somewhere along the lines

the purest specimen of truth

this is actually for @leiascully​‘s @xfficchallenges​: the fic you’d never write. normally i don’t write “everything was beautiful and nothing hurt” william fics, let alone fics where he’s a teeeeeen! so i did that, but i was also at the science march in d.c. this weekend and obvi i had to fic an au where scully was there so…also, all the signs mentioned herein were actually witnessed irl haha also, the title of scully’s academic paper is based in real science but to my knowledge doesn’t exist…yet.


“What about I was told there’d be pie — but it’s the symbol for pi?”

Scully sighed without looking up at him, though she did admittedly choke back a smile which she wasn’t about to reward him with.

“That is clever,” she said, tapping the capped end of a Sharpie against her temple, “But I was partial to your original idea.”

He chuckled, “At the start of every disaster movie there’s a scientist being ignored?

She does smile then, peering at him overtop her reading glasses, which have slowly but surely become a permanent fixture atop her head over the last few years.

“Well, it’s true!” He bellows, playfully slapping his hand down atop the dining room table, “The Core, Dante’s Peak, The Day After Tomorrow, Twister —  that one we saw in theaters where they did an autopsy on Gwyneth Paltrow — ?”

Contagion,” she said, uncapping a marker with her teeth, “Which was impressively accurate, by the way. Not just the autopsy scene but later, the visual showing the way in which new viruses are formed by the recombination of DNA or RNA from different species of animal hosts?”  

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, watching her squint intently down at her poster board, outlining the letters with a pathologist’s steady hand. He reached for a Sharpie, his finger grazing the back of her hand as he did. “So,” he said, flicking the cap off with his thumb, “Are you nervous?”

Her hand froze and she visibly stiffened. He immediately regretted bringing it up but as was his wont, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Yes,” she said after an agonizingly long moment of silence.“I still don’t understand why they asked me to speak,” she muttered, refusing to look up at him.

Mulder scoffed, “Scully — you fucking cured Tay-Sachs.”

“No,” she snapped, pointing her Sharpie at him, “I did not cure it. Not yet.

Recombiant Adeno-Associated Virus PHP.B Serotype for Cross-Correctional Enzyme Transfer Across the Blood Brain Barrier in Lipid Storage Disorders,” he recited on a single breath, “Sounds like a cure to me.”

She gave him a warm smile, “You memorized the title of my paper?”

“What can I say, I’m your biggest fan,” he grinned. She blushed, which of course only made him grin harder.

“I wish you’d look over my speech…” she said softly, picking up her marker again and retracing a giant letter S.

“I told you, Scully, they don’t want a speech from Fox Mulder: former FBI agent and profiler turned New York Times best-selling, National Book Award-winning author,” he said, though not unkindly, “They want a speech from former FBI agent, medical doctor, professor, surgeon, American Medical Association award-winning, guest-lecture giving, honorary degree-having, enigmatic, Dr. Dana Katherine Scully. Who also happens to be my best friend, the love of my life, and the mother of my child,” he said, “And a damn fine shot, too.”

“Oh, Mulder…” she tutted, shaking her head. As if on cue, they heard booming footfalls on the stairs and a second later Will skidded into the room, brandishing a poster board.

At 16, he was just about Mulder’s height and just as lanky and would probably be taller than him by the end of the summer; if his propensity for eating a week’s worth of groceries in a weekend was any indication of his basic metabolic rate and robust genetic profile.

Will cleared his throat, feigning seriousness, but his eyes sparkled with his father’s particular brand of indolence, “Brace yourselves for the unremitting sheen of my brilliance.”

Scully snorted. Mulder and Will threw her identical, indignant looks.

“I’m sorry,” she said, putting her hands up in surrender, “You are your father’s son, Will. No doubt about it.”

Mulder nudged her foot with his under the table, “Was there ever really any doubt, Scully?”

She gave him a long look, which did not get passed Will. Not much did. 

“I detect a rather abrupt change in atmosphere,” Will said, licking his finger and holding it in the air as if to sense a gust of wind.

“Son,” Mulder said gravely, not taking his eyes off Scully, “There’s something we have to tell you.”

Scully frowned, but before she could speak she saw the faintest glimmer in Mulder’s eye and relaxed a bit.

“What?” Will said, slumping down in the chair closest to his father, letting his sign drop to the floor.

“William…Uncle Walter …is your real dad,” Mulder said, his mouth twitching around a grin.

“That explains why I find you and Mom so ridiculous,” Will said, rolling his eyes in with such form that it rivaled even his mother’s practiced art.

“No, that’s just ‘cuz you’re an angsty teen,” Mulder said, ruffling his son’s hair. Will blushed at the childishness of the gesture — more so because, even as a young man, he still craved his father’s approval and affection and was relieved to be in receipt of it.

“Let’s see your sign, Will,” Scully said, capping a nearby Sharpie that was teetering precariously over the edge of the dining room table.

Will reached for the posterboard, brandishing it high above his head. With a flourish, he turned it so they could read its words as he proclaimed them.

SCIENTISTS ARE PRO-TESTING!” He bellowed, and while he expected his father to laugh heartily and give him a high-five, neither of them expected that his mother would laugh. Certainly no so hard.

After a minute or two went by, Will and Mulder both eyed Scully with a kind of nervous fascination, wondering if perhaps they would have to sedate her.

“Have you…have you ever seen her like this?” Will said, his voice low.

Mulder didn’t take his eyes off Scully, who had lowered her head onto the table, collapsed like a pop-tent. Her shoulders still shaking and her muffled giggles getting lost against the polished cherrywood.

“Once,” he said slowly, “But she was drugged.”

This only made Scully laugh harder. When she finally lifted her head, her face was a hot shade of blush-pink and sallow with tear stains.

“I appreciate the encouragement, Mom,” Will said, “But there’s no need to stroke my ego that much. It’s a good sign but it’s not that good.”

Scully reached up to wipe her eyes on the sleeve of her faded Quantico sweatshirt — which was older than Will by about a decade. She sighed deeply, then looked at them both through damp eyes and with a warm, almost cherubic smile.

“No, no, it is a good sign, Will. It’s just…” she sighed again, then drew in a long, sobering breath, “After all your father and I have been through, all that we’ve seen, the things that we’ve fought for…” she looked at Mulder, then. “The FBI sent me to your father because of my faith in science. They believed that science and reason would take him down. It didn’t, though. If anything it became an asset to his cause, and somewhere along the line I became — and so did the science I brought with me — the enemy.”

She lowered her eyes to her own sign, which suddenly seemed incapable of capturing everything she wanted — and needed — to say.

“The science helped sometimes,” Mulder said softly, “But you were the real strength, Scully.”

She smiled up at him as he reached across the table to squeeze her hand, “I guess I just find it preposterous that we have to protest this at all,” she said, shrugging slightly, “That the persecution we faced as a result of our pursuit of the truth has somehow become so much bigger than just us, than the X-files.”

“This whole political milieu is a freakin’ X-file,” Will grumbled.

“Nice 10-point vocab word there, dude.” Mulder said, clapping his son on the back.

“What can I say — my dad writes books.” Will shrugged.

Mulder beamed at Scully, who had rested her chin on her hand.

“Mulder,” she said, her voice hoarse from her laughing jag, “You never told me Skinner was a writer.”


“There must be almost 50,000 people out there,” Scully breathed, her nails digging into the skin of Mulder’s left hand. They could hear the roar of the crowd from beyond the stage — or possibly the rain, which was coming down in sheets. Of course, given that it was a crowd of scientists, they were prepared with slickers and umbrellas, upon which many had inscribed: “Science predicted rain today.”

“You’re gonna be great,” he said, kissing the side of her head which was damp with sweat or rain water or both.

“At least you’re not after Bill Nye,” Will offered, “No one wants to follow him.”

Scully groaned and pressed herself into Mulder’s chest.

“That’s true,” Mulder said, rubbing her back, “Plus, if you screw it all up, no one will remember because they’ll just remember Bill Nye and the fact that Thomas Dolby is gonna sing She Blinded Me With Science.”

“Wait, what song is this?” Will said, digging his phone out of his pocket presumably to YouTube it.

“It’s about your mother,” Mulder said, “Especially the lyric: she’s tidied up and I can’t find anything.”

“Mulder, I want a divorce,” Scully said from somewhere under Mulder’s chin.

“We’re not married, Scully.”

She pulled her head back from his coat and looked up at him, “Fox William Mulder, will you marry me?”

“Sure,” he grinned, running his thumb along her chin.

“Ok,” she said, pressing herself back into his chest again. Then, “Mulder—?”

“Yeah, Scully?”

“I want a divorce.”


The gray sky opened up over the undulating crowd.  If anyone looked up, they’d drown.  

“She looks — ” Will said, standing next to his father backstage, watching his mother at the podium.

“Brilliant? Amazing? Powerful? Divine?” Mulder finished.

Will snorted, “I was gonna say scared shitless.

Though her voice was steady and clear, from his vantage point Mulder could see what the audience could not: how Scully was anxiously lifting and lowering her stockinged foot from her sleek high heel, running the front of her toes along the back of her calf.

God, he was proud of her. God, he loved her.

“…to shed light on what has typically been sequestered away to labs and libraries and lecture halls. To put on full display the humanity that has for centuries stoked the fire of scientific inquiry, refined it, rejoiced in its revelations and more often, endured the frustrations of its arcanum.”

She looked up from her notes, then, and not out at the audience — but to her right, to him and to their son. The next words she spoke, he understood, she had not written for the masses, or for history — but for them.

“The truth exists whether we believe it or not. It endures even the most violent scrutiny and ruthless persecution. As we persist in seeking it, may we find solace in knowing that there is no person, no institution, no government, with jurisdiction over it. It can be suppressed, hidden, censored, altered or misappropriated, refuted and denied,” she paused, looking back to her audience who waited on baited breath, “What those who try to manipulate it beyond recognition, who try to eradicate it and replace it with calculated imitations, fail to recognize is that when all of those measures fail – and they will fail — what remains is the purest specimen of truth.”

She looks back at Mulder, then. At their son. And she smiles, “And it is those of us who want to believe such a truth can be revealed to us who will one day find it, and bring it into the light.”

Love is when you put so much faith in them (and forget about planning your future.)

Taehyung makes a move, he has plans and he’s itching to bring the other with him. No one listens to him, everyone keep saying thats not it. That taehyung couldn’t see it yet, that he’s delusional.

Somewhere along the line, he placed a love in a soul that smiles with him, cries with him and we’re brothers hyung. We’ll love each other till the end of time. We’re a family. And he picks the love up by fingers, by smiles, by sentences.

Taehyungs going to show them that it means everything. and if it takes a little longer than that alright too. Because after all jungkook understands. He always does.

At some point he is trying to say, maybe someone will say it to him. But not today.

Gladnis: Wrestling with One's Self.

The scent of ebony and gentle flame are engraved in Gladio’s memories, both creating an earthy, warm, lush scent. He remembers Ignis sitting near him while enveloped in gentle flame, bearing a billion cares on his shoulders but lighter than moonlight around him. Trusting him.

Which is why Gladio hates knowing they are now separated by memories he can’t see. Touch. Reach. Comprehend.

Nurse Lunafreya told him that there are wounds unforgotten, untouched by time. Noct’s father blessed them with the gift of a happy future, but Ignis somehow carried wounds from his past into their present. Into their realm of bliss.

Somewhere along the line, the deep, transcendental bond between Ignis and Gladiolus snapped.

The imprint Gladiolus left on him was so great, it transcended time.

Here we go again..................

That MTV interview with the photographer was a well written piece of propaganda for “Bare with me”, basically saying that love is love, and it is beautiful in all forms. The stuff about Lauren and Lucy was all propaganda to prop up the narrative.

The photographer and the wardrobe lady were only saying what they were advised to say. LIES! (though the wardrobe lady decided to fuck the narrative a bit with the “sisterly and maternal connection”) Management did the same thing with DWTS. Val was advised to lie about when and where he had his first meet up with Normani for DWTS. They had been rehearsing for days before that Houston Rodeo, yet they wanted to push the narrative to the general public that the girls were in on the surprise, and helped introduce Mani to her dance partner. Why? To show how much they support her decision to do her own thing.

My point is, they (management) have no problem getting outside forces, other than the girls, to help sell their narrative. The ladies who did that photo-shoot with Lauren and Lucy are no different. Why have the photographer say what she said? They needed someone, other than Lauren or Lucy, to confirm that Laucy was real, to prove that Camren wasn’t. That one interview killed three birds with one stone. It confirmed Laucy, destroyed Camren, then destroyed Laucy, all at the same damn time. Brilliant actually.

Keep reading

aquiver | 02 (m)

aquiver (adj.) [uh-kwiv-er] in a state of trepidation or vibrant agitation; trembling; quivering

pairing: min yoongi x reader
genre/warnings: mature themes, talk of masturbation, smut, language, fluff
words: 11,520
summary: Yoongi can’t remember the last time he was able to successfully bring himself to the point of orgasm, then Namjoon gives him a business card advertising ‘Healing Hands’, and that’s where he meets you; pretty and innocent looking, who gets paid to provide hand jobs for a living…
note. inspired by the novella ‘The Grownup’ by Gillian Flynn, literally just the character’s past occupation haha

» playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 |

Keep reading

Imagine if you will: it’s six months later in game-time.  Keyleth finished her Aramente, Hotis is dead, Taryon has paid the party and wandered on his way, so on and so forth.  There’s still a few Lingering Questions™ perhaps about that book and other things, but Vox Machina are prepared to take a well-deserved rest for a while.  Their keep is finally empty of refugees, there’s time to take a break from things like governing Whitestone, and everyone heads back to Greyskull for a little while to just enjoy their home and one another’s company for the first time in an age.

They send a message to Scanlan, an olive branch: we’re going back to Emon, back to Greyskull Keep.  We’d love to pick out a room for Kaylie, if you feel like coming by.

No reply.  Keyleth considers scrying on him in case something’s the matter, but finally decides not to intrude any further on his privacy.

The day arrives.  Bags are packed, they step through the Sun Tree and into their garden; the only familiar faces waiting are a few of their servants and Jarrett, but it’s still their good old long-lost home.  Emon is finally starting to really bustle again in the Conclave’s aftermath.  They consider a quiet dinner at home, but it almost seems like a waste; Vox Machina, as they’re wont to do, leave their things behind and head out to a tavern for a good time.

The one they pick is a big bustling place, and being the local heroes and all, they opt for one of the less conspicuous tables off in a corner.  They can’t really see the minstrels performing way over on the stage for all the heads in between.  (Well, Grog can, but he’s busy with his ale.)  The fiddler is uncommonly good, though, accompanied by an abrasively lively shawm and then an equally nimble lute.  It’s good music to get drunk by, so they toast and laugh and nobody thinks anything more of it until there’s a smooth tenor voice that they’d recognize anywhere:

“Let me tell you the tale,” it sings, “of Vox Machina.”

One of the group drops their ale mug, and the crowd whoops and cheers for Scanlan Shorthalt’s latest masterpiece, which of course he’s been performing here for days already to be sure the regulars know the words.  There’s a verse describing all the heroes, naturally, and Scanlan meets their eyes one after another with a small smile on his face.  Olive branch returned.

He looks different.  Less jewelry.  Somewhere along the line apparently he cut his hair, and now it’s half grown out again.  The only earring he wears is Tiberius’s, and the front of his shirt is closed.  He’s dressed like a man who’s decided maybe female attention isn’t that important to him after all.

The song is several verses long, glowingly detailing Vox Machina’s exploits.  It must have taken ages to write.  There are even some lines about Taryon Darrington, the end of the Aramente, the harrowing journey to the Nine Hells.  Things Scanlan wasn’t anywhere near, things which are definitely partially bullshit, but some of which ring startlingly true.  Perhaps Keyleth wasn’t the only person doing a little scrying.

The last verse ends with a flourish, proclaiming how Vox Machina triumphed through the power of their bonds, the strength of a family working as one.  Then amidst the raucous applause, he squeezes Kaylie’s hand and hops off the stage, leaving her considerable talents to finish the set alone.  He makes his way over to the corner with a smile, an awkward and old and honest smile, to buy everyone a drink.

(”So, little elf girl,” he starts, and Vex immediately punts him down the table.)

Hate is Bad You Guys

I wanna preface this with a quick disclaimer - this isn’t directed at anyone specific, I love all of you guys and I’m posting this out of concern for our community as a whole. If you feel called out or hurt by this post, I’m sorry. *hugs*

Brace yourselves though, because we need to talk about this.

The anti-Butch Hartman spree that’s been going on? Guys, you need to ease off. A lot.

Somewhere along the line it became cool to push the Butch hate as far as possible? It’s treated as some kind of joke or something that’s acceptable because hey, ‘we all think Butch sucks’, when really it isn’t. What’s worse is that these actions have been met with positive responses. It’s becoming socially normalized, and that is not okay. That’s actually scary as crap.

Take a deep breath and step back. Look at what you’re doing. This is bullying. It’s not cool, and it’s not funny.

Even if you feel your dislike is justified, treating another human being in such a way is wrong– and unhealthy. It’s creating an angry atmosphere in the phandom that really saddens me as a long-time member. We all have our criticisms, and criticism is a good and valid part of creative communities, but there’s a distinction between taking issue with someone’s creative work and attacking the person themselves.

You don’t have to like Butch Hartman. Criticize his actions as a creator, have a discussion, even make jokes about it. But please, remember to treat him with basic respect. Don’t get nasty. Don’t be mean. Don’t stalk him looking for weaknesses to pick at. He may be a public figure as a creator and semi-celebrity, but he’s also a person.

Tumblr is a place that likes to talk about safe spaces - rejecting hateful speech, accepting those who are different and flawed, giving people a chance for acceptance – but ironically there’s a real struggle in extending that openness to people outside of the Tumblr subculture.

Come on guys, we’re better than this. You aren’t helping anyone this way. Hate doesn’t erase hate. It never does.

The Phandom has so much creativity and diversity of style and people and topics. We’ve built so much together, had a lot of fun and weathered all kinds of ups and downs over the decade-plus this show has been in existence–an existence, I might add, we owe to Butch Hartman.

So let it go, please. Let’s keep the tag (and our phandom) a positive space!

8

‘’ War is nothing but hate. It makes men animals. But love keeps us human.’’

‘’ I always wanted to be a hero. But somewhere along the line I realised i didn’t want to be their hero. I wanted to be yours.’’

‘’ Imagine if mankind reached for the stars instead of trying so desperately to annihilate each other’’

‘’ Believe you’ ll survive another day. And don’t just believe in tomorrow. Believe in next week, and next month,and next year. Believe in survival. Believe in joyful survival.’’

George Devalier.

Long Angsty Sterek Fics

All at least 20k words long (by request)

Divided We Stand by KouriArashi

Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn’t expect and aren’t sure they approve of….

By Any Other Name by entanglednow

He doesn’t know his name, he doesn’t know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he’s on the run with. But he’s pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.

Permanent Fixture by linksofmemories

Derek is Scott’s older brother. Stiles is Scott’s best friend. Derek is falling in love with Stiles. This is a bit of a problem.

Mating Habits of the Domesticated North American Werewolf by lielabell

Derek doesn’t do pining. He doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that Stiles is much more interested in having Derek as a new best friend than a boyfriend, he puts on his big boy pants and makes it fucking work. He becomes the best goddamn friend a spastic teenager could ever hope to have.

Don’t Speak by fatale

The Alpha pack has systematically attacked Stiles and his friends for months, testing their strengths and weaknesses. When one of the Alphas goes after Stiles, he awakens in the hospital and realizes that something’s wrong. Very wrong. All sounds seem to hurt him, he can’t understand what anyone is saying, and when he tries to speak, it’s gibberish. How is he supposed to deal with the fact that he’s lost the ability to communicate with his dad and his friends?

Without his ability to talk, his sarcasm, and his wit, what does Stiles even have left? Enter Derek, the only one who seems to make it better.

Enemy Lines by qhuinn (tekla)

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.

Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.

Keep reading

I’ve been thinking and

it occurred to me, just now, right here, that the reason Granny and Vimes feel like such different characters even though they’re not, not really- both are old and angry (so, so, so angry) and understand that everyone’s “just” people and really, really would rather not be Good thank you very much, but they will do the job in front of them, because no-one else will- is that their books approach the idea of Responsibility from different angles:

Granny’s books* say ‘I am responsible. No-one else. I made this choice. I picked this job and now I am going to do it’ and then proceed to do just that. In every finale Granny stands, and wins, by herself.

On the other hand, Vimes tries this. He does, really. But whenever he tries to pick up the weight of the world someone runs up to help him. In every book when Vimes faces the villain, he prepares and goes in alone, but someone always follows him (Carrot in MaA, the  Patrician in Jingo, Angua in Thud!, etc.). And that pretty much takes the above ‘I am responsible’ and answers: ‘Yes, you are. But so are we’.

And I don’t know where exactly I was going with this but i guess it’s somewhere along the lines of how the Witches books deal with personal, individual responsibility, while the Watch books deal with person-as-a-member-of-society and societal in general responsibility.

(Also, like, proof that Granny is the single badest badass motherfucker in the series. No-one else reaches her feet)

*And later Tiffany’s. Because say what you will Tiffany is Granny, just with the edges slightly smoothed.

anonymous asked:

Is there a story behind the blue jacket?

kind of. 

besides me being a fashion bombshell, even in the midst of wwii, the jacket was nice and warm and full of pockets. which is always a nice thing when you have to literally carry everything you need with you everywhere you go.

but on top of that, i grew up with tiny pre-human-lab-rat steve. among a very long list of medical issues which fueled his must-punch-everything attitude, steve was colorblind. (in a very typically steve move, he decided to become an artist, despite not being able to see half the colors out there.) 

 the modern term for what he was is ‘protanopia’ which is a type of red-green colorblindness which meant his ability to see the color red was not so great. pretty much everything in the red spectrum got toned down to taupes and greys, and yellows and greens were kinda muted. but his ability to see the color blue was basically unimpaired, so blue things stood out in his field of vision. back in the day, i wore a lot of blue because it was easier for steve to spot, and somewhere along the line it just kinda became my favorite color, and i tended to pick blue clothes out of habit. 

these days steve’s favorite color is red, just for the novelty of being able to see it.  

my mind can’t even wrap itself around the fact that somewhere along the line in the last four months dan howell reached a point where he was completely okay with not only entertaining jokes/innuendos about him and phil in sexual situations but also referencing the notion himself????????????? this? ??? would be so incomprehensible ?? not even a year ago???

okay

One example of how an exchange with a spirit works for mutual benefit

As a spirit worker of some years of experience, this is how I would personally go through contacting a spirit in order to receive help from the spirit world.

PEN AND PAPER For a serious working I will take a piece of paper and write things down and organize them just as if I was planning them for a spell. What I want to happen, what I would not like to happen, and so on. Then I will also plan my offerings to the spirit. This does not always mean physical items like candles, incense, or bread. This can regularly mean offerings of service. For example some nature spirits may request you spend a certain number of hours doing litter removal or conservation work. Another type of spirit may request that you make a post about it, to increase its fame so it may work with more humans. An important part of this step is what you are not willing to give. 

If I am in a more informal setting or doing a less serious act of magic I will often do this phase of planning in my head.

PREPARATIONS Depending on the type of spirit being called there must be certain preparations in place. For a certain type of ritual (which you can find under my articles tag called “spirit worker’s spell”) I will call the quarters and see which spirit of the elements is best suited for the job. To prepare for that I would want my ritual tools to represent the quarters as well as a simple offering to thank the spirits for showing up. If it were a Goetic demon there would be very formal preparations, for example. Just be prepared for your guest.

In general: Work in nature or a clean space (clean space = respectful of your guest). Incense is nice because it is pleasing, especially if you can determine a scent your guest might like. In my path it is polite to have a simple offering of incense to thank a guest just for arriving. Then if you anticipate the spirit will require other physical offerings, have them close at hand. Also have things you regularly rely on such as your grimoire, tarot deck for communication, and so on.

Extra Safety: Work within magic circles. Cast one around yourself with the specific intent to keep out all negative energies and any spirit which wishes you harm or ill-intent. Then, summon the spirit in to a second protected circle, from which it may return home but otherwise cannot leave. (This is assuming the spirit is summoned, as opposed to walking up to it in nature and saying hello). Besides your magic circle have with you a strong amulet of protection (excellent practice if you don’t have one yet!!) and special banishing and “emergency” tools like banishing powders, flying devil oil, salt, and highly uplifting and banishing incenses such as frankincense, rosemary, and bay leaf.

If I am doing a very serious spell I will take a full purifying bath. In general I make sure to never go in to spirit communication with too much “gunk” on me and I often do small or large purifying rituals before spirit work. If your spirit contact made you feel uneasy in any way, consider a purifying and protective bath afterwords (try rosemary, bay leaf, and a heap of basil in salt water!).

CONTACT If I am seeking the help of a specific nature spirit I will go to that place and simply say hello and initiate conversation. Another way to work with nature spirits is having a piece of that natural thing, like some bark, a stone from a mountain, or a jar of water. Use this smaller element to contact the larger spirit! The way I perceive spirits is through the platform of my imagination. A being will appear in my mind’s eye, and I will speak to it through words, visions, and feelings. Other people will have different experiences. “Seeing spirits” is a Golden Standard ™ that distracts people from real communication. A big hint for me is that the energy changes around me when a “real” spirit is near. I really recommend just talking with plants and stones and trees to learn what spirit communication is for you. Don’t compare your experiences to that of others. Don’t you want your own beautiful and unique way speaking with spirits, true to you and your true nature?

If I am instead summoning a spirit I will go through the steps to do that. Usually I can feel the energy change around me before I perceive the spirit. Nature spirits can still be dangerous but especially if summoning ensure you have the proper protective steps such as those mentioned in italics above.

PLEASANTRIES I don’t go straight to business unless I am working with an entity who is known for not liking small talk. I don’t sit down and have a cup of coffee with a spirit and catch up about the kids, but I introduce myself with my magical name, say why I have asked them to come, and ask them if they are agreeable to continue. Sometimes spirits will have certain questions, such as, “why am I in this circle?” I will answer honestly (don’t lie!!!!) and say, “this circle is for my personal protection.” Often, spirits congratulate my forethought on safety. Another spirit may ask if they may first have a glass of water, which is alright by me. I do consider it a red flag if a spirit asks for a big offering right away, as this is not proper protocol. Just as we treat them with etiquette, they should treat us with etiquette.

At this time I also begin reading this spirit in a polite way (not trying to force my way in to their mind; like reading body language). I want to know if the spirit is uncomfortable or gives of bad vibes, or if they seem pleasant and helpful. To do this I pay special attention to my emotions and “back of the mind” thoughts that often slip by unnoticed.

In general once the spirit has finished asking questions, if they even have any, most seem willing to get right down to work. This is after all a business meeting.

THE CONTRACT I will state plainly what I wish to be done. There is no need to say why; I don’t think it’s the spirit’s business, and I don’t think most would care! “I need to ensure my credit card is paid off by June.” “I need my friend’s day at work to go smoothly and quickly.” “I need a teacher in meditation.” Whatever it is I have to say I am clear about it, using carefully thought out language so I am not confusing or vague in the slightest.

There’s a caveat I put in, somewhere, along the line. It sounds like this: “If you are able to accomplish this task for me, then…” You want to make sure you actually state that you expect RESULTS. Anyway, moving on.

Right away, without pause, I roll in to what I have to offer the spirit. If I am working with a certain spirit or type of spirit I have worked with before and I know what they usually like I will come out and say, “I have prepared for you the best wine and cakes” or whatever. Otherwise I will say, “I wish to know what I may pay you in return for this great service.”

This is the moment the spirit may reject this contract. If they have heard what you want and aren’t interested in helping, they’ll make it known to you and either leave immediately or wait for you to say goodbye. Sometimes your first offering wasn’t what they were looking for and that “hold up” feeling you are experiencing could just be the spirit looking for something else. If you get this “woah pause” feeling, try asking the spirit if it prefers a different payment and go from there.

Spirits are sometimes quite clear in what they want in terms of offerings and will tell me immediately, perhaps through a vision of what they want to occur, or maybe through words. Other spirits are a little more reserved and want to know their options; obviously I can’t offer everything, so what’s on the table?

NEGOTIATE In general we settle what the payment is quite quickly. Then comes the negotiation! You are in a business deal. Unless you’re working with some high level systems that tell you otherwise, never give the entire payment up front. If I expect this task to be performed quickly, in a matter of days or a week or two, I say I will give a small offering now to thank them for their arrival, and the full payment will be delivered when the task has been complete. Spirits so far have not had a problem with this. Sometimes I feel reservation as the spirit thinks it through. Don’t worry if you get “pause” emotions or messages like this. You are communicating with another being. Give them space to think.

If you’re asking for something that will take a while to manifest, work out a payment plan. “I propose that I will give you a portion of this payment every time I see X manifest. Is that agreeable to you?” and let them respond. Most spirits I work with tend to prefer simpler arrangements. They will tell you what they can deliver, and expect fair pay for it. A spirit may request payment on a time table (such as partial payment once a week) and I find this to be an alright deal as long as I see results manifesting. Like put your foot down. You are expecting something out of this… you are paying for a job to be done.

Talk about what might happen if the job is not done. In general I just consider all terms to be broken and we walk away. Don’t go in to punishment land. If the spirit fails to uphold their end of the job, their payment is denied. Walk away. On the other hand, if they do the job and you don’t pay…. that’s a whole other ball game. PAY THE SPIRITS. Like omg don’t even go there.

Once the payment has been agreed on, and the payment method has been agreed on, I proceed to the “handshake deal.”

BROKERING THE DEAL No need to sign contracts in blood. You can, however, have a written contract which I think is a great idea, especially for longer “jobs”. Write out the terms clearly. Sign your magical name, then ask the spirit to put its energetic imprint on the page as a symbol of your deal. I rarely bother to do this but it may be preferable for some people.

Generally, I just say, “I am Crann, offering you X and Y payment to help me get my credit card paid by June. I will pay you in full once the job is complete in June. Do you accept this agreement?”

I will then get a word of “yes” or “I agree”, or a vision of a handshake or some other symbol which means “we are in a contract”, or an emotion of acceptance.

SAYING GOODBYE Once the deal is done I often light a candle and incense in honor of the deal agreed upon. I ask the spirit to stay and enjoy the incense as long as it wishes to, which usually is not long. I usually ground out right away by cooking, watching television, and talking to friends.  

MONITORING THE DEAL I will keep an eye on things and make sure it all seems to be going according to plan. If it’s an “easy” deal I generally expect to see results immediately; within the day or so. If it’s a big working with big goals I would not be surprised if I had to wait many days or even a period of weeks before I see the results I desire. However, in my opinion there should be signs your spirit agreement is working out. If you make an agreement with a spirit and within a week or two nothing is really happening, there is a possibility that spirit was taking advantage of you or something in your contract imploded.

PAYING THE SPIRIT When the correct time(s) come I will do a small ritual to give payment, partial (according to a ‘payment plan’) or whole, to the spirit. I will typically use a candle as a monument to the occasion as well as pleasing incense. If it is a physical offering I will present it and call the spirit and ask it to partake of its payment. If it is a nonphysical offering I will contact the spirit and tell them I am going to begin my end of the payment, and they can expect to see my end of the deal be performed shortly.

Once you believe you have fully paid the spirit, contact the spirit again and ensure that everything is even-Steven. If it is a physical offering ask them, “are you satisfied and pleased with this agreed upon payment?” Don’t let a spirit weasel you in to even greater payments; if you provided what you agreed upon, you are good. If it is a nonphysical offering I believe it’s good to check in just to make sure there is no misunderstanding of what you are supposed to provide, and to ensure that you are carrying out your payment as you need to.

Here’s a word of advice: Don’t forget to pay them. If you are neuroatypical like me, if you forget things, if you get distracted, if you cannot GUARANTEE you will give the payment, don’t enter in to contracts. Use alerts on your phone, journals, calendars, written contracts, whatever you need to do to remember. But if you are at risk of not remembering, don’t make deals.

BITS AND BOBS There is a fine line when it comes to working with spirits that make you feel uncomfortable. Sometimes a being is just so powerful that our little instincts go AHHHHHH and that’s not necessarily negative. But then sometimes, the spirit does mean us malicious intent and the feelings can be similar. In general I would just advise people to work with spirits that do not give them any feelings of discomfort; many of these spirits exists, and there are times to work with more intimidating spirits up ahead :)

You do not need the MOST POWERFUL ULTRA MEGA SPIRIT to get the job done. The more powerful a spirit is, the more you will have to pay it, and the more experience you will need to manage your encounters with it so you remain safe (this doesn’t even mean negative entities… encountering a huge power wave from a positive entity is something you have to know how to control and handle. I have almost passed out from encountering powerful, positive energies.)

Think about nature. Do you need a problem swept away? Ask a stream spirit. Do you need something burned away? Ask a fire elemental. Do you need something glamoured? Ask a fae. Don’t start with encyclopedias of powerful, named spirits. Start small and local :)

If you need magic done, make a deal. But in general it’s really polite and positive and just a good thing to befriend spirits before you ask them for help. This is in my opinion only!!!! For example I have good connections with many species of magical plant spirits. I am known to them and they are known to me, and in the past some have state they will help me when I need it. If you are a stranger knocking on a door a spirit may help you for pay, but if you are knocking on a friend’s door in need, imagine how much better they may care for you and see your needs are met. This is also why it’s important to give back as much as you can. Take care of the spirit world and nature when you can, and be polite and respectful as often as you can. The spirit world really does take notice.

No Manners [Prince!Jungkook x Reader] - PT. 1

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader

SUMMARY: You tutor Jungkook the etiquette expected of a prince like himself; it’s an easy job and pays well enough for a side job. However, the prince seems to also have other things on his personal agenda.

WORDS: 7.1k

GENRE: Fluff, future smut. [ Prince!Jungkook AU ]

A/N: this is the first part to a four-or-so-part story. omg this is my first piece of writing i’m posting on tumblr so don’t have super high expectation hfhghgnfkjn idk enjoy!

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What Do You Feel?

Who: Jughead Jones
Where: Riverdale

{Decided to try out a jug imagine}


Part One ||| Part Two 

[Y/N] had, had enough. She couldn’t stand the one-sided tension between herself and Jughead. She respected Jug enough to give him space and time for this novel of his. She was thrilled about his idea and fully stood by what he was trying to achieve. [Y/N] would always support Jughead in everything he did because she absolutely loved him for who he was. She would never dare try to change a single thing because that was what made Jughead, Jughead.

But, this summer and the beginning of the school year was driving her insane. She felt second best and despite knowing that Jug needed to invest as much time as he needed into this novel, she just couldn’t’ stand having one-sided conversations. [Y/N] needed to know if anything more was going to come out of their odd relationship.

Nothing was ever talked about what they were, it just sort of happened. It was known that [Y/N] was off limits to any boy in Riverdale and not that Jughead had a line of girls waiting for him but it was clear who had his attention. Even Archie and Betty never talked about it, it was just there. A relationship built without words. But, [Y/N] needed answers. She could deal with the little notions of affection Jug would throw in her direction. In fact, she loved it. She loved that Jughead would reach across the table and gently grab her hand and hold it while he reread paragraph after paragraph; running his thumb over the top of her hand while she worked on her homework or read a book. She especially loved it when he’d just look at her and cup her face and press his warm lips against hers. Or when he’d gently bump into her on their way to her house and swiftly fit her hand inside his. And even the moments when he’d finally put his laptop away and they’d binge watch horror movies and pull her into his chest.

No words. Just actions. And [Y/N] could live with that. But being blatantly ignored and feeling as if she was talking to a brick wall, just wasn’t cutting it. She couldn’t sleep at night thinking that everything she had tried to talk to Jughead about, he didn’t even hear. It was frustrating because she was a human being that wanted to talk out her feelings. Express her everlasting love she had for him and wanting to know if he felt the same.

“Jughead.”

The tone in her voice snapped Jug from his thoughts, tearing his eyes from his screen. His brows furled as he looked at her standing in the doorway of the Blue and Gold news room. “[Y/N]?”

Stepping inside, she flickered a look towards Betty who gave her a concerned look. [Y/N] was never stern, and it was odd that she sounded so. “Could you give us a minute, Betty?”

Betty nodded, ruffling around and gathering papers to sort through in another room. “Of course, [Y/N]. Um, I’ll be back later.” Zipping by her friend, she exited the room.

“We need to talk.” [Y/N] said with the same tone as before, she was fidgeting with her fingers, trying to figure out her next words. It was now or never.

Jughead chose to ignore her strange behavior, “I really can’t, I’m finishing up the last few pages of this chapter.” Turning his focus back onto his laptop, his fingers started typing away. “You understand.” He spoke quickly before diving back into it.

An irritated sigh came from her lips as she turned around and shut the door. Slamming it loud enough to catch Jughead’s attention again. Turning to face him, she crossed her arms across her chest. “That’s the thing, Jug. Your novel is exactly what I want to talk about.”

Sensing that [Y/N] was as serious as her tone, he turned in his chair to face her. Nodding, he motioned towards the air. “Okay, shoot.”

“Am I second best to it?” She asked, her voice faltering a little. Her eyes were drilling into his, glossed over from feeling the emotion building inside her.

“What? No.” His eyes squinted, slightly shocked she asked. “What does that even mean, [Y/N]?”

“Second best, Jughead. Am I a less adequate, less desirable alternative?”

“Why would even ask me that, [Y/N]?”

Tears were brimming her eyes, taking a deep breath, she walked over towards him. Pulling a chair right in front of him. She sat down, her heart sinking further into her chest. Afraid to venture into this conversation. “Jughead, I love this novel of yours. I think it’s great, and if anyone is going to write about this town, it’s you. No one else could ever pull it off like you will.” Pressing her lips together, she looked up at the cracked ceiling. “But, it seems like that’s all you ever do. We used to talk to Jug. Talk all night about everything and anything. And when we would, I forgot where I was for the moment. All that mattered was that you and I were together. And that one day we would leave this town together and embark on this adventure away from Riverdale. But, I feel like you don’t feel the same.”

Jughead took in her words, analyzing them in his head. Taking in her hurt tone and trying to understand them. Was he invested in his novel, of course. Did he want to make [Y/N] feel like she was second best? Absolutely not. As much as he was a fluid with his words on paper, speaking them out loud was a different story. Jughead wasn’t normally one to shy away from voicing his opinion or putting his two sense in something he shouldn’t. But when it came to [Y/N], she took the literal words straight from his mouth and put them in a blender. He could never express what he felt other than by just showing her what she meant to him.

“Can you say something, Jug?”

Biting his lip, he looked down at his hands. “I don’t know what you want me to say, [Nickname].”

Sucking in hair, she ran both hands through her hair. “I want you tell me what you feel, Jug. I want to know what you truly think of me. If I’m just crazy and think what we have is more than what it really is. You write so beautifully, Jughead. I’ve read your stuff and for someone who’s so elegantly articulate, you never use them with me. I want you to use your words, Jug.” Her voice was breaking and it pained Jughead to see her so upset. How did he not see this coming? How could he have been so blind?

“[Y/N],” He started, his mouth pursed as he tried to pick the perfect words from the garden in his brain. “We function without words. That’s how it’s always been. I couldn’t tell you when we started us, because in a way we were always us. Just somewhere along the line, you and I delved into different world and never left. It worked. I shouldn’t have to tell you that I care about you, [Y/N]. It’s written clear as day on my face when I kiss your lips.”

Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. “That’s the point. We never talked about us and maybe we should have because I’m so confused, Jug.”

His brows knitted together, the wrinkle along his forehead becoming more defined. “What are you confused about, [Y/N]?”

Looking at him in his eyes, she calmly asked. “Is your novel more important then what we have?”

Jughead hesitated, the words getting caught in his throat. Closing his mouth, he shook his head. “No.”

“Oh, Juggie.” She breathed, a tear falling from her eye. “If you had to think, then I know my answer.”

“What do you want me to do, [Y/N]! This is who I am, you knew this before you dived head first into my dark waters. I am not the only one to blame for this.”

Standing up, [Y/N] whimpered out. “I want you to fight for me, Jug. I want you to tell me I’m being crazy and that this-whatever I’m feeling will pass. That you’ll make it up to me or that you love me or something.”

Jughead stood up too, his eyes searching hers. “I don’t know what to say, [Nickname]. What I feel for you can’t be described because I really don’t know what I feel. You’ve always just been there, [Y/N]. I care for you, I do. I just don’t know what more I can give you then what I’m already giving you.”

She stepped forward, “What do you feel when you kiss me, Jug? What do you feel when you hold my hand? What do you feel when I’m lying on your chest in the middle of the night? What do you feel when you haven’t seen me all day? Do you even feel anything for me at all? Am I just some girl you can practice on for the real thing?” Tears were falling now, she couldn’t hold them back anymore. “We’ve been best friends since were six, Jughead. I’ve grown up with you, watched you turn into the person you are and fell in love with it all. You’re flaws, you’re oddly humorous morbid personality, everything.”

Shaking his head, and turning slightly away from her. His hand reached up to his forehead, “[Y/N],” he warned.

Taking in a deep breath to settle her tears, she scrunched up her nose and wiped underneath her nose. “I can’t do this anymore, Jug.” Biting her lip, she held back a whimper at his darkened facial expression. The cold look he gave her was enough to shatter her fragile heart.

“So, that’s it, then?” Jug asked coldly.

Avoiding his harsh stare, she softly spoke out. “I asked a simple question and you couldn’t give me the answer. So why should I pretend that I never asked? I screwed up, I had this picture in my head of how we are supposed to be and we are far from that picture.”

“You’re throwing away years of friendship because-“

“-because I love you, Jughead. It’s just like Betty and Archie except in our case, you fed it. You kissed me, you held me, you caressed me. Over and over again.” Moving the chair back to its place, she wiped away more tears. “I’m too emotionally invested in you to continue our friendship right now but maybe when I get over it, we can go back to how it used to be, the days before you first kissed me on my front porch.”

“[Y/N],” he called out to her.

Shaking her head, she headed for the door. Swinging it open, she looked over her shoulder and pressed a smile. “I’ll always love you, Jug. That I have no control over but they say the soul usually knows what to do to heal itself, the only challenge is to silence the mind.”

Jughead watched her walk out of the news room, his heart pounding in his chest. What in the world just happened? Never in a million years would he have ever pictured his life without [Y/N]. She was essential to his life. She had always been there, always. Despite Archie being his best friend, so was [Y/N] but in a different way. She believed in everything he wanted to do, no matter how crazy. She was always someone he could rely on no matter what. And even though she would still be present in his life by going to the same school.

It felt like a part of him had been ripped from his body and thrown away, lost in the cruel world they lived in. He felt empty.

“Juggie?” Betty was leaning against the doorframe, “Everything okay?”

He stood there for a minute, still stunned that apart of him just walked away from him. “No.” He shook his head, “No, everything is not okay.”


Goodbyes hurt when the story is not finished and the book has been closed – jnd

jungkook; morning kiss(es)

❝there’s no such thing as singular in jungkook’s book of kisses. only plural.
►1870 words // scenario
♡ this is for @cno-inbminor​ bc we reached our 200th day snapstreaksary (it’s a word i swear) and this is a little overdue but here it is i tried my best and it’s short but i LOVE YOU KAREN

Originally posted by officialwookkibby

Jungkook was a person who could be satisfied (and happy) with the littlest of things in life or, could find significance in anything he came across with. 

One, you (not to be taken literally but hey, he does use the benefit of being taller and you know when you’re shorter you have a better aim at his di-). Two, discounted prices on set meals he wants to eat. Three, finding a dollar lying on the floor and claiming it as his even though he knows damn well it fell from your purse but finders keepers losers weepers. Four, Jimin and Taehyung messing with Hoseok, only got get a beating after and his devil ass is watching from the side the whole time. And last but not least, sleeping until the sun breaks through the window and rakes his ass awake.

He was a heavy sleeper and that, ladies and gentlemen, was not a surprising thing at all. God no. Almost everyone around him had experienced troubles waking him up at least once (thrice) in their lifetime. As quoted from none other than Kim Seokjin and editing from Kim Namjoon: “That boy can sleep until the world burns down and he’ll wake up being alone.” (end scene)

It was all about getting used to, in your opinion. You’d gauge around the time he’d wake up and plan your day on from there. See, if you can’t change the boy’s habit, change the way you work things around. Simple. (unless you’re living with six other guys who gives no shit with your sleeping habits then kudos to you, good luck chap, better luck next life)

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