purely stunning

I’ve seen a lot of fanfiction where they portray Elain as being very quickly adjusted to life as a fae in the Night Court, and Nesta being the one to shut down and not be able to deal with it. But I predict it will be the opposite , even straight out of the cauldron we can see their immediate way of reacting to the change: Elain is almost completely numb to what’s happening, not getting up from the floor on her own, not saying anything , just stunned by pure shock and horror, while Nesta is active and herself right out of the water. She’s walking, talking , and fighting back , and that drive and ferocity that Nesta hold will enable her to thrive as a Fae instead of wallowing . Sarah j Maas even said in an article somewhere that the two Archeron sisters deal with being made in very different ways, leading me to be believe one will adapt better than the other. Elain has really lost the most in the situation, her title , her home that she loved and flourished in , her lord fiancé ( she really loved him according to Nesta) , her friends , and her dad ( she also was the only one who really seemed to care about him). So in conclusion , Elain is gonna be hella sad in ACOWAR.

hamelin-born  asked:

Now that you've posted it, I can't stop thinking about the Dark Creatures!Fluff! Did Grindelwald actually try to /recreate/ the original lycanthropy curse? (It's just the kind of thing he'd do, you must admit). What /did/ happen after Graves' first transformation? Does dragon-shaped Newt curl up with him in the case during Full moons, and thus keep him from mauling himself? How did Graves react to the realization that Newt was a /dragon/? (reminds me of a dragon!Newt worldbuild I did once.)

@hamelin-born You actually just nailed a lot of my headcanons I eventually want to explore with this AU. 

How Graves was turned - 
In my mind, werewolves (I’m thinking of that scrawny looking Chihuahua thing Remus turned into in the movies, I will never not be upset about that abysmal creature design) in the Harry Potter universe have slowly been degrading over the generations - the original line of creatures being powerful things of legends as most of us think of them today (so in my mind, something like below)

Originally posted by hey-there-little-red-riding-hood

Their venom being the most potent. And each bite victim from there becoming steadily weaker and weaker (until you have something like Remus - scrawny and rabid and balding). Remus being the result of many generations of bite victims until the man that infected him had venom so impotent, it resulted in the following…

Originally posted by suitelikechocolate

Grindelwald is interested in the old ways. In restoring old magic and old rituals and old orders. That includes creatures. In his mind, lack of teaching and knowledge and protection of werewolves (in order to shield the no-majs and keep the secret of magic) has forced werewolves into repopulating in this quick and dirty way as compared to the old ways.

Knowing he would have a decent amount of time with Graves as his captive, he decides to punish the man while also using him in such a way that would most benefit Grindelwald - seeing if the old ways still worked. He doesn’t tell Graves this, lest the man try and resist. Most don’t know of the old ways anymore. Most wouldn’t recognize the ritual. He keeps Graves bound to a comfortable bed lined with enchanted wolf pelts - plush and rich and exotic. In the meager food he feeds him, he hides subtle hints of herbs made to encourage the change - unnoticeable if you don’t know what to look for. Graves no doubt thinks the horrid taste of his food to be part of his captivity.

And when Graves sleeps, Grindelwald performs the rituals. First he leads Graves deeper into slumber lest he wake. Then he fills the room with incense and chants spells in old tongues - and little by little each night, Graves dreams transform from him huddled in a dark cell, awaiting execution at the hands of Grindelwald to him running through a dark forest. And every night, his vision is a little lower to the ground and a little lower to the ground and a little lower to the ground.

It takes three months to complete the change - but when it finally happens, Graves is stunning. A pure image of what lycans once were - tall and proud and majestic. And Grindelwald couldn’t be prouder. He is caught before he could begin to curtail Graves’ will to his own. 

Graves struggles with the transformations once he is free - not because he lusts for human blood or anything that most werewolves of his generation (those changed via bites) experience. But because his wolf half is afraid of the city and the bright lights and the strange smells and the loud noises. What is this place? Where are the woods? He runs and he runs but cannot find them - until finally, a wooded place. It had strange, hard paths but it also has grass and trees and earth. It’s there that Newt finds him, exhausted from captivity and starving and afraid. He recognizes the length of wood in Newt’s hand. He knows its bad. But Newt rids himself of the stick and holds out his hands until dark sigils of tattoo like scales suddenly blared to life along the backs of his hands and the pale underside of his wrists. Warm and dark and ancient and understanding. His words are soft and assuring as he tells him he has somewhere Graves can stay. Somewhere he can eat and rest. Somewhere with other creatures. Graves is enough man still to know that while he can’t completely follow what Newt’s suggesting, the man is offering safe harbor. And the wolf cares only for food and woods and kin and somewhere to rest. 

They go into the case together. Newt gives him space. He places meat into the field and leaves so that Graves might eat in peace. He lets him rest. He lets him sleep in the dark grass. And when Graves finally wakes, he’s naked and staring up at a smiling, innocent face.

“Feeling better?”

Graves doesn’t remember the scales at first. But he connects the dots after a while. Newt runs to hot to be human. He speaks in tongues. There’s an ancientness to him that calms other creatures - and when he interacts with Newt, the creature inside himself immediately stills and calms beneath the softness of Newt’s voice. But its a dream that finally reminds him. A dream, a memory, from the war. Of Theseus suddenly disappearing and a dragon coming to save their squad at the last conceivable moment. Of hot hands hands sealing his sucking gut wound shut and soothing back sweat slick bangs as Graves tried to feverish tell Theseus all about the dragon he had seen. Theseus to this day mocks him for it. He didn’t see it. So Graves must have been delusional. 

But Newt was Theseus Scamander’s brother - a man who had served in the war with dragons. He connects the dots. He’s not crazy. Newt is surprised by how well Graves takes it.

“Do I need special paperwork to be here, director?” Newt says as he lazily rocks himself on Graves’ hips, grinding sensually. A teasing smile on his lips. “Being an illegal creature and what not?”

Graves rescue - could have gone smoother. No one anticipated he was a werewolf. He had no markings to suggest it. He nearly mauls a young auror in fear from so many crowding him. He acts on instinct. Barrels through a window and runs. Newt knows if the man knew how close he had come to slaughtering the men and women he had sworn to protect, Graves would have put himself down right then and there - no questions asked. No one blames him for reacting as a cornered and injured creature would. So no one tells him. And that’s that.

anonymous asked:

Could be an scenario where Keith realize that his is madly in love of his s/o and he can't hide it anymore. Obviously, the others know, even before that he actually realized of that, so they press him to confess until finally he blows up in front of her. Ps: you are amazing!


Thank you!

I hope you enjoy!

“I’m…I’m gonna tell them!” Keith cried, his hand held up victoriously in the air as the others stood around, watching him pour his heart out, 

“Yeah!” Shiro cheers on, clapping Keith’s back, “That’s the spirit! You can do it!”

“I’m gonna go right up to them a-and…and kiss ‘em!” Keith spoke with vim and vigor, excitement gripping his voice with every passing second. Shiro grinned, watching the red paladin with a small, small sense of pride,

“I’m sure they feel the same way, Keith! Now go on, sweep them off their-” Shiro paused, his eyes widening at the swiftly changing figure in front of him, “Keith?”




  Lance screeched, almost launching himself across the table onto Keith, 

“What the quiznak! Keith! You’re lactose intolerant!” 

And I’ll drink ‘til it fucking kills me,” Keith whispers back, his eyes burning with an unnatural, dark gaze. Pidge’s eyebrows shot up, slight amusement in their voice,

“Didn’t you just say you were going to tell Y/n that you-?” 

“Nope. I lost all motivation. Every little bit,” Keith replied, a milk-mustache prominent on his lips, “I…I thought I could, but-”

“But what? Keith, this Y/n we’re talking about here, they’re not going to eat you!” Hunk chimed in from the back, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes sparkling with passion as he spoke, “They’re the sweetest ever! Even if you get rejected, I’m sure you’ll be let down gently!” 

  Lance simply looked at Hunk incredulously, 


 Keith slammed his head into his arms, his grip on the glass of milk lessening slightly, 

“I mean they’re so…them. You know? And I’m…me.”

  Shiro merely looked on at the interactions with his team, watching as Keith jumped from feeling like he was on top of the world, to feeling like dirt; Hunk and Lance were trying to console Keith, though their ideas of consoling were very different to each other- and Pidge simply stood in their corner, chewing bubblegum, their eyes as wide as ever. 

C’mon Keith, you’re not that bad! I mean, you gotta weird glove fetish-”

“It’s not a fetish! MY HANDS GET COLD! We’ve been over this!”

“I don’t know man, I’m with Lance on this one,”

“Oh, so we’re taking sides now?”

“Yes.Yes, we are. Thank you, Hunk,”

“I’m going to actually fucking murder you,”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure that the milk is doing that to you already- AH!” 

  …It was kind of mesmerizing to watch. 

  Like a train crash. 

  You kinda…can’t just look away, can you?

  Shiro laughed at that thought in his mind, his gaze returning to the wrestling paladins on the ground, both screaming obscenities and yelling at each other recklessly, with abandon. 

“What’s going on?” 

  Everyone jumped at your voice- the calm, collected tone had shifted the chaos of the room into that of pure and utter stunned silence,

“Oh! U-uh, hey, Y/n,” Keith said sheepishly, still holding Lance in a headlock- you had heard all of the commotion from down the way- just what in the world is going on?

“Hey, Keith,” You say with a smiling, giggling at the awkward position the red and blue paladin were in, “I think the training room is three doors to the left,” 

  Keith’s eyes widened as if he just noticed Lance, who was now doing his best to not pass out. Promptly dropping Lance to the floor, he swiftly stood up, looking away from you nervously, “I-I, um, we were just seeing how, uh, far we could go without…breathing.” 

  Though your heart said otherwise, you merely nodded your head, “Right…you know, there are easier ways to do that than sticking your friend into a choke-hold, right?” 

  Keith was looking a bit green around his cheeks, suddenly, his face paling as he responded with a very weak, “Right.” 


  Once again, Shiro felt as if he was watching a train full of orphans derail into a nearby ravine- because good God, it was painful looking at this transpire. 

  Come now, it was obvious! The way you spoke to him, the way you looked at him with your big, glimmering eyes like you just found all the luck in the world- 

  When you looked at him, it was very obvious that your heart seemed to cease its beating. 

  Keith, perhaps, was slightly less romantic. His lips would be pursed, his eyes pulled together as if in anger, his face would turn a very sharp, very scary scarlet- but still full of heart and soul all the same. He loved you, Shiro mused himself, the red paladin, the guardian of fire and known all too well for raising hell-

  he loved you. You crippled his ego, his ‘threat’, his danger…and you made him into the goofy, lovesick mess that couldn’t so much as lay an eye on you for a confession! 

  Perhaps out of spite, or something less ill-intentioned, Lance spoke up, finally catching his breath, 

“Keith wanted to…to tell you something,” 

  You raised an eyebrow, surprised, “Oh?”

  Your crush frantically shook his head, 

“N-No, I don’t!”

  Shiro chuckled, “You sure?” 

“Yes!” Keith cried, “I’m…” his voice cracked, “I’m sure.” 


  You bit your lip, bracing yourself, and knocked on the door, 

“Keith?” You called out, “Keith, I have some medication!” 

  A groan was your answer, a sorrowful, embarrassed one, 

“Y/n? I’m…I’m fine…hngh…” 

  Your face scrunched up at Keith’s painful tone, 

“Are…are you sure? Because you had milk earlier, and I know how you can get-”

“Y-Yes! It’s…it’s not as bad as last time!” 

“You were in there for three days, last time!”

Y-yeah, but I mean…I mean…hnghhh…” Keith’s response ended in another groan, much to your dismay. Sighing, you slid down to the floor, taking a few pills from the bottle, 

“Can you at least take some of these, then? Please? For me?” 

“I…I don’t want to!” 

  By God, it was like fighting with a child, 

“Please? Keith come on, take the damn meds, will you?” 

“I said I don’t need them!” His voice was strained, “Why do you care so…so much anyways?” 

  You gawked at the question, “Because I care, dammit! Why don’t you listen?” 

  He didn’t say much after that. Instead, you quietly rolled the pills under the door, a shadow picking them up, 

“…Thanks, Y/n,” 

  A tug of a smile was on your lips, 

“No problem.”

  It was steady silence thereafter. Occasionally, you’d knock on the door, Keith would respond with a grunt, and the waiting game continued. 

  Did you have anything better to do? 


  Did you care? 

  Not really. 

“…Are you still there, Y/n?” 

“Yeah, something up?”

  He hesitated, his voice lower than usual, 

“This….this is probably a really bad time, um…I…” 

  You didn’t say anything, but your ear moved closer to the bathroom door, Keith simply continued, 

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, Y/n, but I…I appreciate you, and I- uh…” 

“…and?” You pushed, waiting with baited breath for the answer, 

“I like you. A…A lot. A-and I thought that all of this was gonna…uhm…go ruin things, but you’re still here, so…that…that has to count for something, right?” 


  It was like watching a train crash, Shiro thought. 

  Looking on from a distance, his body hidden by the shadow of a corner, he watched with a proud grin. 

  It was like watching a train crash because the both of you professed to each other whilst one sat in the bathroom, but Shiro supposed it was about as good a time as any.

  But this time, unlike the morbid curiosity of watching something get destroyed, it was the hopeful aspirations of something a little bit better for you and Keith. 

…Though again, perhaps you and Keith should save the rest of your conversation until much, much later, yeah?


Fjaðrárgljúfur, The Most Beautiful Canyon in the World

Fjaðrárgljúfur is a canyon in south east Iceland that’s known for its breathtaking beauty. It’s up to 330 feet deep and about one-and-a-quarter kilometers long, with a river called Fjaðrá flowing through it. Created by a progressive erosion of flowing water from glaciers through rocks, the canyon has been hallowed out for millions of years. The walking path along the eastern edge offers stunning views over both the plains and the glacial brooks below.

Beck And Call

Embry Call imagine requested by awesomedaisyisd. “Embry imagine where the reader has a nightmare, and they call him on their cellphone, he comes over, climbing in through her window to comfort her.” Hope you like it!

It happened suddenly and simply; one moment, you were staring down the hardened gaze of a frozen killer, irises unmoving, focused, nearly serene in their concentration. His face was admittedly beautiful, and the part of you that possessed knowledge of the danger you faced, literally, was overwhelmed with a sense of peace; how could anyone that stunning, that pure, have any intention other than good? Your instincts were at war; all you had learned from your history with Sam Uley’s pack had taught you to flee at the sight of such a beast, that crimson irises were a herald of death, that even though a struggle was useless, it was best to cause even insignificant hassle for the monster before you. And yet… his face still held the innocence of youth. He couldn’t have been older than twenty, physically, with cheeks still plump with the roundness of childhood, not yet carved into craters by the stress and responsibility of life. You knew, despite his obvious beauty, that he would end your life quicker than you could prevent. As the beast stepped forward, a painless grin painting his lips, you caught movement in the corner of your eye, an unassuming flash of black shining like obsidian in the sun. Without once hesitating or ceasing pursuit, the monster reached forward, grasping a hold of Embry Call’s neck as gently as if he intended to cradle the boy. Embry’s eyes were calm as he stepped between you and the vampire, forcing his body to become a barricade, following Sam’s orders in a most ultimate and extreme manner. His features were uncreased and elastic, his brows straight in his serenity, his lips tugging downward with grim, if willing, acceptance. With his eyes drilling unspoken apologies into yours, his neck was guided by alabaster hands to a most inhuman angle, his body crumpling quietly to the earth below, his eyes losing focus almost as soon as the creature behind him twisted his wrist. It had been so simple. You could not bring yourself to lift your gaze from the twisted corpse at your feet, not even to meet the eyes of the monster approaching, his polished shoes creeping over the body of the boy who had loved you enough to sacrifice his life in hopes of preserving yours, the boy whose heart had stopped beating at the drop of a pin to ensure your own continued to pulse within the confines of your chest. Your own death came as suddenly as Embry’s; you hardly remembered the vice-tight hold of frigid fingers clamping around your throat, and you were numbed to the shortness of breath that should have followed. Instead, your world began to haze over like steam on a mirror, fogging your view of your savior, his eyes open to the world, seeing nothing, as your surroundings faded to a blank.

Your eyes fluttered open as if from a dream, as if you had merely woken from a sea of flowers instead of a scene as gruesome as you had experienced. Normally, you found your nightmares were punctuated in sweat and a struggle for breath, sheets tangled about your limbs like vines, suspending you thousands of feet above reality. Tonight was calmer, less hectic, though this terror had been much stronger than any you’d yet to be tortured by. You’d dreamt of Embry’s death on many occasions before, which was only to be expected when you were fully aware of the danger he put himself in during his routine hunts. As vampires encroached on the borders of the wolves’ territory, you were plagued with visions of animals being torn in two by the unnatural strength both the wolves and their foes possessed, but Embry rarely survived your imagined battles unscathed. You’d witnessed his body being laid on his mother’s dining room table, long, lanky limbs hanging limp over the edges. You’d watched from beyond the treeline as his jugular was pierced by teeth sharp as razors, his body reverting to the figure of an injured boy, his palms slick with scarlet blood as he fought to slow the impossible flow of blood spurting from his throat. In reality, he had shown no reason for you to be afraid for his well-being; Embry was as accustomed to fighting in his wolf form as he was to holding your hand while human; it was as simple as breathing, and he phased as quickly as the thought presented. He had always been skilled, and he had always returned to your side, crowing tales of victory, his eyes burning brightly beneath the glare of the sun. Never before had his death been linked to you, never had it been your fault, even if indirectly. You ran a hand over your forehead, swiping instinctively at the clammy dew you’d come to expect, your palm sliding easily from your smooth skin, unhindered by masses of salted water. Your lungs filled easily with the stale, unmoving air of your bedroom, your eyes boring sightless punctures in your darkened ceiling. Your mind raced to replay the events of your nightmare, the moment you realized Embry was interfering, the moment his eyes lost their intensity on yours, surrendering fully to unfeeling death.

You shook the image from your mind, your head spinning as your eyes fought for stability in the unpredictable darkness of your bedroom. You reached blindly towards your nightstand, your fingers scouring the papers and discarded jewelry until you encountered the smooth glass of your cellphone. With the touch of a button, your bedroom was illuminated in a numbing white-blue light, washing the colour from your furnishings, drenching your walls in monochromatic shadows. You dialed the only number you could think of that held a remedy to your concerns, no matter how illogical. As the mechanical ringing reverberated around your room, your mind began to race once more. First ring: what if he was sleeping? You tried not to wake him when he was able to catch his limited rest shift during the night; the boy hardly ever had a chance to enjoy a full five hours of sleep, and you could be the cause of yet another bout of exhaustion. Second ring: perhaps he was… incapable of answering your call. He only ever kept his jeans and his underwear with him when he was running on all fours. Your call could very well go unnoticed. By the third ring, the receiving line picked up, and Embry’s voice was crunching through your phone like gravel through a sifter, his tone preaching volumes on his level of fatigue.

“Y/n?” he whispered, his volume docked to ensure his mother wouldn’t wake at the sound of his voice. You could almost see him as he rubbed at his eyes, his brows knitting in confusion and worry. He didn’t sound as if you’d woken him. Sam must be having him running border checks, and that was hardly ever a good sign. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” You cleared your throat, your eyes on the ceiling, your spine melting into the cushion of your mattress. He knew you all too well; calling at night implied an error in your usual routine, given the possibility of interrupting his own. You sighed, chewing your lip as you thought  of how best to formulate your response. “Y/n, are you there?” You sniffled, fighting the tears that threatened to build along your waterline, your voice emerging from the depths of your throat a cracked and busted version of what you’d hoped would pass for steady.

“I’m here, Embry, I’m…” your voice faltered and broke, your throat closing as the images of his death painted themselves on the blank expanse of your ceiling. Your cheeks blazed like the final embers of a dying fire at the thought of your own embarrassing wordlessness. Once more, you shook your head, attempting to either scramble your thoughts or knock them into order, you didn’t have a preference. “Em, I’m… I can’t…” Before you could organize your speech into a pattern easily recognizable as English, you heard Embry’s line muffle and crunch with his movement, the telltale sound of his window opening cluing you in on his actions before he thought to speak of them.

“I’m on my way over. Unlock your window. I can be there in five, maybe six minutes. You’re not hurt, are you?” The smooth calm of his voice quickened to panic, which you quickly shut down.

“Not hurt, no. Not physically,” you responded, your tone wavering like broken branches in the wind, your throat scratching over every word before release. You heard the rush of wind against the speaker, followed by a solid thump. His breathing was unaltered by the speed at which he ran towards the woods beside his home, but you could hear the sound of his clothing as it was dropped to the dew dampened earth below.

“Six minutes. I have to ditch my phone so I can phase, okay? I’ll be there soon,” he promised, his pace sped along by the power of his anxiety. “I love you, okay? Don’t lock me out,” he whispered, your lips turning upward at the corners, if only slightly. You returned his token of adoration, watching the line go dead, your body lying numbly atop your tangled sheets. You inhaled slowly, working yourself from your bed, your feet padding quietly against your floorboards as you shuffled to your window, flipping the latch and working the frame upward, exposing your skin to the cooling rush of night air. your fingers thrummed against the windowsill, running absentmindedly over the grain of the wood, the pads of your thumbs rubbing circles into the ledge. Your eyes scanned the woods beyond your window, watching for any movement, for any sign that Embry, wolf or not, had arrived. When he finally emerged from the forest, he was clad only in jean shorts, hand-cropped just above the knee, his eyes finding yours instantaneously. He hiked his waistband, bending his knees at the base of your home, his hand warning you away from the ledge. You watched in silent admiration as he scaled the side of your house, first climbing vertically with the assistance of your rain gutter, next by leaping for your window. He pulled himself inside with impressive strength, tucking his legs over the edge, his feet landing silently on the floor of your room. He twisted his body, shutting your window before reaching for your waist, guiding you into the safety and comfort of his chest. You buried your face in the crook of his shoulder, allowing the heat of his body to relax the tension building in you muscles. His open palms ran down the ridges of your spine, clutching at the fabric of your shirt, cementing you to his form. “Shh, you’re alright. You’re gonna be fine,” he lulled, his voice a quiet whisper on the wind of his every breath. His lips pressed to your temple with a gentle softness he reserved only for times of high stress and injury, most of which matched your current situation to a tee. He was smart enough to piece the puzzle of your mind together before arriving. He worked the both of you backwards until you were sitting atop your bedspread, your legs folded as Embry cradled you, his breath warm against your scalp. “What was it this time?” he inquired, his voice inching on humour, falling drastically short of the intended appeal. You emptied your lungs of air, feeling the weight of the organs intensify within your chest as they deflated, your mind scrambling for the easiest description.

“It was a vampire,” you admitted, feeling his chest move against your cheek as he breathed a confident chuckle; he was under the assumption that he and his pack-mates were invincible to vampire attacks. You continued, Embry’s attention as tangible as his hands roaming your back, kneading knots from your sides. “I was the target, and he started to come for me… you stepped between us,” you paused, your chest tightening as you recalled his stance, his acceptance. Embry was silent, likely anticipating what he had already guessed was the outcome. “You didn’t even turn to look at him, Embry, didn’t turn to fight… or phase. You just… you looked at me, and I could see in your eyes that you knew you would-” you choked on your words, feeling the warmth of water trail from your eyes, droplets streaking over your cheekbones. “You just watched me, and you were… it looked like you just wanted to see me before… before it ended.“ You closed your eyes, watching the scene replay, the emotions dancing behind Embry’s eyes piercing your heart, the unadulterated expression of relishing those last seconds, and the silent snap of his neck. Embry shifted his hold on you, resting his chin atop your head, rocking his torso from side to side, his grip ever tighter around your body.

“I’m okay. I’m here,” he breathed, his heart beating against your cheek. You were both silent for the following few minutes until Embry’s voice broke through the air, a hesitant and confident tenor for so tender a moment. “You know, this probably isn’t what you want to hear, but… I’d do it for you. It wouldn’t even be a question. If it came down to you or me… it’d be me, every time. Y/n,” he shifted, his hand ghosting to your cheek, angling your face upward until your eyes met his. “You’re all I care about. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, nothing I wouldn’t risk to keep you safe. There isn’t a single scenario that would keep me from stepping between you and something that could hurt you, and I know you know that. I know it’s not easy to hear, and Hell, it’s even weirder to say out loud,” his eyes traveled to the ceiling, his exhale steady. “But I would risk my life for you, drop of a hat. You mean that much to me. And it isn’t just the imprinting that makes me say this… you’re just too important to die. I love you too much. I couldn’t live without you, not anymore. So, I’m sorry, but I’d do it for you.” You ducked your face to his chest, oddly comforted by his words despite the fact that they serviced to prove the likelihood of your nightmare becoming a reality. Embry would never let anything harm you, and as long as you were locked within the protective heat of his embrace, you were safe. For now, at least, you could manage in the comfort of his company.

Lucario Spell: Strength and Confidence

Originally posted by another-nintendo-kid

This is for those times that you need some extra strength and confidence. Time to channel your inner aura and face the day!


  • Blue Candle
  • Silver Candle
  • (white candles are fine if you don’t have colored ones)


  1. Light the candles.
  2. Cleanse your aura, even if you just woke up. Do so preferably by meditating so you can get in the proper mode. I like to picture a wave of light engulfing me until all the negative energy is gone.
  3. Now that your aura is clean, concentrate all of your thoughts on it. Look at how bright and clear it is. Its newfound radiance is making the entire room glow! Take a while to be proud of how nicely it shines. This is you. Pure, radiant, and absolutely stunning!
  4. When you are ready, recite the following with conviction:

With my newfound strength, I will conquer this task.

I will do so confidently and with complete devotion!

  1. Repeatedly recite it until you feel energized and ready to go!
  2. Blow out the candles with a tiny thought of gratitude for their uplifting energy, and get out there to show the world that you are ready for it!

Note: Candles aren’t necessary. Add incense, oils, or whatever you feel gives you confidence. You can feel free to modify this as you please.  This is just a simple spell that is meant to be adjustable to help you conquer all sorts of feats.


Imagine Sam slipping up

Sam admired you. The guy adored every last detail about you. Your laugh was the first thing he ever noticed about you, instantly picking it up from across the room the first time you’d met. The very sound of it was infectious, there was something about the way you tilted your head back as the laughter flowed from you. It was a warm sound, one that settled over him and made him fell safe, at home. 

Then there was your looks. To him you were nothing but breath taking, purely stunning. There was not a single flaw he could point out from you rich y/e/c eyes to your long y/h/c hair to your perfectly molded red lips. And damn that body, the curvy shape you possessed had him drooling at the simple thought of it. 

But it was your personality that had him hooked. It shocked him to see how down to earth you were, how much you cared for other people. There was not a single bad bone in your body and Sam loved you for it.

He was suddenly brought out of his thoughts by your loud singing. He looked over to find you tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, you head swaying along to the beat. He had no idea what the song was or who had originally sung it, all he knew what that he loved seeing you like this, so carefree, your voice hypothesizing to his ears. When you caught him looking, you began to belt the words louder, adding your own little dance moves as you shot him a quick wink. 

“Marry me?” The two words slipped from his lips in between laughter and he was just as shocked to hear them as you were. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d said them, he was just simply caught up in the moment and what he was feeling at that point, yet somehow, weirdly, he didn’t regret it one bit.

“What?” You pulled the car to a sudden stop, the two of you flying forward in your seats. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I didn’t think…” Sam tried to hide his disappointment at your reaction but failed miserably, the look on his face making your heart break.

“Yes.” You smile grew wider with the word and you could barely contain your excitement anymore.

“Really?” At that point Sam was sure that if they could, his eyes would have popped out of his head. He stared at you dumb founded, his mouth forming the shape of an ‘o’. 

“Yes!” You squealed jumping over your seat so that you were on his lap. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly as you peppered his face with kisses, you lips covering every inch of skin. “Yes, yes, a million times yes!”