Step 1) Brew tea with rose hips and spearmint. As it steeps, swirl it 3 times and say the following: As this power slowly steeps, so shall beauty steep in me. I am smart, I have confidence, and I am beautiful.
Step 2) When the tea is finished brewing, kiss the surface of it (if it’s too hot, wait for it to cool). Imagine this connecting your energy to the energy of the spell.
Step 3) Sip the tea! Imagine the energy flowing into your body and coursing through you. Let the words echo throughout your mind. “I am smart, I have confidence, and I am beautiful.”
Step 4) When done with (or at the same time as) drinking the tea, rub your favorite lotion all over your body. Imagine it bringing your beauty and confidence to the surface so everyone can see it.
if dc wanted a another tt book with damian so much they could have created a whole new team with kids around his age: jon, maya, suren, idk colin or kathy, you know creating a new dymanic. instead of butchering beloved characters, de-aging them and not letting them grow for the hundreth time. i know that’s too much to ask for you dc cause you’re literal garbage but c’mon
So I asked my friends on snapchat for a prompt to write something yoi and @urdumb-1 came up with mutual pining and angst. This is has very little pining and very little angst and mostly fluff and dense children whoops.
It was late and Victor hadn’t come back yet, so Yuuri was left alone in the hotel room, scrolling through his social media. Bored.
He rolled onto his back and thought about today’s events, blush blooming on his face as he thought about how soft Victor’s lips felt when he leapt on top of him at the rink. He remembered how Victor stared into his eyes, flickering down to his lips last second as they fell. Ugh, Yuuri couldn’t stop the grin spreading on his face flopping back onto his front and pressing his face into the pillow to hide it even though there was no one in the room.
Victor had kissed him. On the ice. After his literal love declaration for Victor wrung out into his quad flip at the end. In front of millions of people. On national TV. Ack.
“The only think he could think of to surprise me, indeed.” Yuuri murmured to himself.
“Surprise.” Yuuri’s mind went back to what Victor had said after the kiss. “Surprise.” Worry gnawed at his mind as he turned the word over and over in his head as dread ate at his chest.
Was surprise the only thing Victor thought of though? Did Victor even feel the same way? Or was it just a ploy to one up Yuuri’s surprise?
He clutch the pillow in his arms tighter into his chest curling up on his side into a position as comfortable as he could manage at the moment.
Had Yuuri thought about this all the wrong way? What if Victor did it for show?
No, the look in his eyes was definitely fond whenever Yuuri caught Victor staring at him.
But what if it was just platonically fond? Yuuri had absolutely no clue. Victor always told him he tended to think about the little things longer than necessary.
But this wasn’t little right? Yuuri had looked up to Victor with adoring eyes even since he was twelve. It’s not like he expected Victor, the “Living Legend” of the figure skating world, this beautiful amazing person that had never seemed more human before the kiss.
Now, Yuuri wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Victor walking into the hotel room right now, not when fear and worry and dread were swirling in his stomach. Whatever Victor felt for him, whether is was playful and competitive, or platonically fond, or (Yuuri dared to hope) romantic feelings, this kiss changed everything. Yuuri never felt farther away from Victor than he did when he first came to Hasetsu, not knowing was the worst.
After half an hour Victor still wasn’t back and Yuuri tense every time he heard footsteps in the hallway, listening out the mechanical whir of the lock. Every time the footsteps faded away and Yuuri was getting tired and decided to take a shower.
After taking his clothes off, Yuuri step into the shower and let the hot water run down his body, still thinking and worrying about Victor and whether or not he liked him back in the way Yuuri liked him. He sighed to himself. God he had fallen in so deep hadn’t he?
Yuuri dried himself and put on his pajamas ready for sleep and lay in bed with the lights still off waiting for sleep to take over, but his mind went back to Victor over and over, his mind drowning him in useless thoughts that debated back and forth.
Yes, Victor kissed him. And that meant something to Yuuri (God it meant so much Victor probably didn’t’ even know how much he affected Yuuri like this).Yuuri just wasn’t sure whether it meant anything to him. Victor would have done this a billion times with other people. He was so beautiful there was no way that he hadn’t kissed anyone else like that before. Again, Yuuri was “dime-a-dozen” in yet another part of his life.
He hated that that kiss, that kiss that made Yuuri’s whole face red with the thought of doing that again, meant nothing to Victor.
Yuuri turned over and buried his face into the pillow, berating himself for thinking so negatively. There was still a possibility that Victor did like him back.
A few minutes later, Yuuri’s thoughts calmed down enough for him to feel drowsy closing his eyes, he was grateful for the reprieve sleep brought him. At least he could put off facing Victor until the morning.
Yuuri woke when the bedroom lights turned on squeezing his eyes extra tight against the intruding light under his eyelids. Victor must have noticed his sleeping form facing the wall on the bed because Yuuri heard him whisper, “Oh shit,” to himself and promptly turned the lights back off followed by a series of shuffling feet and rustling suit cases.
Yuuri turned over to face the room and saw a sliver of light coming from behind the closed bathroom door and heard the running water of the shower turn off. Yuuri shifted in the bed and brought his arms up to rest his head on them comfortably. The movement made the blanket shift down the back of his torso, but the room wasn’t too cold as to warrant moving to pull it back up, besides Victor was coming out of the bathroom and Yuuri didn’t want to let Victor know he was still awake. Didn’t want to face him and his incessant buzzing thought about Victor’s feelings and the kiss and— every other thought that came with it.
Yuuri pretended to still be asleep when Victor came out of the bathroom, listening to Victor move around the room, to the other side of the twin beds.
To Yuuri’s surprise, Victor leaned over his bed and grabbed the edges of his blanket, and covered Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri saw, though slits between his eyelids, that Victor as still standing in front of him, not making a move to get in his own bed.
Yuuri’s hearing honed in on the sound of a tender sigh escaping Victor’s lips into the dark and quiet room, and then the soft shifting of Victor’s pajamas as Victor leaned over Yuuri again and—
Victor’s lips brushed his cheek and Yuuri stiffened, Yuuri’s breath catching in the back of his throat, as he stiffened under the touch of Victor’s lips, warm and soft. Unnoticed, Victor let his lips linger on Yuuri’s skin before after what felt like a millennia, pulling away.
Yuuri felt Victor’s breath brush the shell of his ear as he whispered, “Goodnight, Yuuri,” the soft ‘r’ in the way Victor said his name sounded like it rolled off his tongue so naturally. Yuuri was glad for the darkness in the room, because he didn’t want Victor seeing the bright red that must be all over his face. “I love you.”
Yuuri froze again at the words, the denial hitting him first. He was dreaming wasn’t he. Testing his theory, he whispered back, “Goodnight, Victor. I love you too.” It wasn’t possible for his eyes to get any wider now, the adrenaline in his veins making him near hysterical with confidence he felt in saying the words.
Seconds later, Yuuri heard more shifting of the hotel’s crisp sheets.
“Yuuri? Can I sleep with you?” Victor’s voice rang loud in Yuuri’s ears, still in disbelief of the situation. Victor said he loved him and now he’s asking to sleep in the same bed?? Not to mention so casually as if it was something he did every day! How was Victor so calm collected and casual about something like this??
“Mhm,” came the dumbfounded reply.
More shifting, and Yuuri lifted the blanket as shifted over for Victor to slide into the bed next to him.
Victor however had other ideas, his arms went around Yuuri’s waist and rested his head on Yuuri’s chest as the other man automatically pulled his arms around Victor and hand splayed between his shoulder blades and one resting on top of his hair to try and hold him closer and never let go.
“I love you,” Victor murmured again, he let out a content sigh and nuzzled the side of his face into Yuuri’s chest before lying still in his arms.
Yuuri must have gone mad. This isn’t real, Victor didn’t say he loved him and he wasn’t snuggling in the same bed with Yuuri.
“Victor?” Yuuri whispered.
“Am I dreaming?” May as well say it out right, said the bud of confidence and invincibility brought on by near hysteria.
Victor huffed in amusement. “I don’t know are you? I sure hope you are, because that’d make me the man of your dreams.”
The darkness made it even easier for Yuuri to visualise the smile on Victor’s lips. He smiled and put the thought away for a rainy day. Yuuri thought about Victor’s lips too much anyways.
To remove burdens from oneself and inspire new beginnings
Lavender, Chamomile, and other cleansing/refreshing herbs of your choice
Step 1) Before getting your hair cut, wash with regular shampoo/conditioner/etc. Squeeze out the normal amount of product in your hands and hold it as best as you can for a few seconds (if it starts pouring out of your hands, it’s cool to go ahead and start applying it). Imagine it drawing in all the negative energy, thoughts, feelings, etc. from your body and holding it.
Step 2) Say the following as many times as you want: “Absorb and contain that which burdens me.”
Step 3) Run it through your hair as normal. As you do this, imagine it soaking up your burdens/etc. and storing them in your hair. Imagine the negative energy sinking to the bottom of your hair strands, weighing your hair down but remaining separate from your body so that it doesn’t affect you. This is where it will stay until it is cut loose. Wash your hair as normal, but imagine the negative energy stays in the ends of your hair.
Step 4) Get that haircut! Wow, you look sharp! As the hair is being cut, imagine it falling from you and taking the negative energy with it. As it is swept away, so it is swept away from you and your life.
Step 5) After your haircut, make a hair rinse from lavender, chamomile, and your other chosen herbs (careful: make sure you aren’t allergic). Wash your hair with this rinse and imagine it cleaning the rest of the residual negative energy from your hair. Say: “My burdens have been cleansed from me, so I can start anew.”
And you’re done! Optionally, you can cleanse the bathtub/bathroom afterwards as well if you’re afraid of residual energy.
Bet you can’t say that title 10 times fast. For those previous spells that are out there running in the world that you don’t really need anymore.
- String (you choose the color)
- Small rock(s) or weight(s) of some sort
- Jar of water
Step 1) Think of the specific spell you want to dismiss. If you just want to dismiss all past spells that you aren’t using, think of those past spells in general up to the date that you want stop.
Step 2) Tie 9 knots in the string, evenly spaced out (or as close as you can get). With each knot, imagine the energy of the spell(s) getting sucked into the knot and becoming trapped there. Ultimately, all the energy of the spell(s) will be trapped in the string’s 9 knots.
Step 3) When you’ve finished tying the 9 knots, tie your small rock or weight to one end of the string. Holding it from the other end, drop it into the jar of water. Let it sit for 1 hour. (Be careful what rock you use. Some rocks/crystals are water soluble.)
Step 4) An hour later, take the string out and let it dry. Cleanse the water and pour it out away from your home.
Step 5) When the string dries, cut the rock off or untie it. Cleanse the rock, then throw it somewhere away from your home (be careful not to hit anything if you decide to literally throw it). Burn the string (be careful with fire, yada yada yada) - this cleanses the energies and disperses them, to me.
[For this post, I’m heavily indebted to Newton’s Alexander Hamilton: The Formative Years. Newton writes for over 12 pages and offers 109 glorious footnotes discussing the controversy over AH’s birth year. I’m detailing this because it’s important to appreciate how many St. Croix ties AH had when I get into his friendships, that never-ending post.]
Until 1939, nearly everyone thought AH’s birth date was January 11, 1757. 1757 is the birth year that AH used consistently throughout his life; it’s the birth year his family and friends attested to. The few writers who objected to this year did so on the grounds that he was so small and delicate he likely appeared younger than he actually was, or that he could not have been employed so young.
In 1939, H.U. Ramsing published an essay on Hamilton’s birth with extracts from the probate record for the estate of AH’s mother. This document, completed in February 1768 by a clerk and signed by James Lytton, Sr, uncle of AH, in place of Peter Lytton, AH’s cousin, states that she had “two sons, namely James Hamilton and Alexander Hamilton, one 15 and the other one 13 years old.*
This causes a flurry of re-evaluation of AH’s birth year. Now I will note that 1939 is in a period of decline in AH’s popularity. He gets hammered for his seeming love of banking, capitalism, aristocracy, protection of the rich, etc. That he seems to have spent his entire adult life lying about his age is just gravy.
Some historians accept the 1755 birth year, making the following Arguments:
The probate record must be correct;
AH’s youthful poetry endeavors support a 1755 birth year;
AH was witnessing legal documents as early as 1766 for Beekman and Cruger, and there’s no way a 9-year-old would have this responsibility or even have a job;
AH is a liar and schemer, so it makes sense that he would lie about his age for his entire adult life. Or (Chernow!) AH is so desperate to fit in he’s even shaving two years off of his age, because he’s such an insecure outcast in his own mind.
[Now there remains the possibility that AH may have thought he was born in 1757, when he was actually born in 1755. My grandmother did not know if she was born in 1908 or 1910. But she also knew that she didn’t know - she wasn’t declaring a birth year for herself the way AH did. As a contemporary of AH’s, Newton offers up James McHenry as someone whose birth year is also unclear.]
Argument 1, the probate record must be the correct claim:
Records from the West Indies are highly unreliable. To quote Newton (pg 20): ‘Dates and ages were recorded incorrectly, names were spelled and misspelled in every possible variation, and records were poorly kept, inaccurately transcribed, lost, damaged, or destroyed.” One example of this is AH’s mother. How many different ways are there to spell Rachel Fawcette Levine? Her burial registry is also incorrect on several details. [Newton produces several other examples of the inaccuracy of West Indian records.]
Refutation 1A: the clerk made an error, or the information was transcribed incorrectly.
James Lytton, Sr. was signing this document in place of his son, Peter Lytton. “Present for the two minor children and heirs was Mr. James Lytton on behalf of Peter Lytton.” It’s not clear why Peter was not present, only that he was designated as the person to complete the document and did not do so. Therefore, it’s possible that his father, James, having to rush to finalize this document in Peter’s place, simply did not know or mis-stated the ages of his nephews to the clerk. It also seems possible from the record that neither James nor Alexander were present to correct any misinformation. Flexner states that James Lytton may have deliberately lied about the ages of his nephews in order to increase their likelihood of employment, and then AH returned to his real age (the 1757 birth date) when he arrived in America. Though I don’t really care what Flexner thinks because that speculation would be impossible to substantiate, Flexner’s wrong about employment ages anyway, and Flexner makes stuff up all the time in The Young Hamilton.
Argument 2, AH’s poetry points to a 1755 birthdate:
In April 1771, “A.H.” submitted poetry for publication in The Royal Danish American Gazette, stating “I am a youth about seventeen.” Hamilton’s authorship of these poems can’t be demonstrated. Even so, with a 1755 birth date, he would have recently turned 16, not 17. Of course, it’s also possible Hamilton is the author, and lied about his age at the time of sending in the poems anonymously for publication to make himself appear older. [There’s also lots of stuff in some biographies about AH’s sexual precocity and what age it’s more likely he would have written such poems, but those poems don’t guarantee that “A.H.” is sexually active - actually, they read as the opposite - a fantasy.]
In October 1772, The Royal Danish American Gazette published “The Soul Ascending into Bliss.” Elizabeth Hamilton was very proud of this poem, sent stanzas of it to a friend, and stated that AH wrote it when he was 18. J.C. Hamilton wrote that AH wrote it when he was at King’s College. It’s likely that EH was JCH’s source, so all that establishes is that EH believed her husband to have been born in 1757 and to have written this poem when he was at King’s.
Refutation 2: The identity of “A.H.” is unclear; EH likely mis-attributed the date of AH’s poem.
Argument 3, AH was witnessing legal documents in 1766, so he was more likely 11, and anyway would have just been too young for employment if he were born in 1757:
There’s zero evidence that 9 vs 11 was considered a substantial difference in maturity in young boys in the West Indies, so that an 11-year-old can serve as a witness, but a 9-year-old can’t. A two-year difference in age is not that drastic.
Additionally, boys were often working by the time they were 7 in the colonies. Newton also provides the examples of Henry Knox, who started working at a bookstore at the age of 9; and Benjamin Franklin, who worked for his father at the age of 10 and by 16 was managing a paper. Also, as AH himself notes, he was still a 'lowly clerk’ in 1769, at the age of 12. He wouldn’t become the de facto business manager of the firm for another couple of years, and he is without question a prodigy. The fact that it’s unclear what happened to James Hamilton, Jr after his mother’s death also points to both boys having to seek employment at early ages, likely at the time that James Hamilton, Sr. left.
Refutation to 3: There’s no evidence that the witnessing of a document by an 11-year-old carried more weight than that of a 9-year-old. Boys frequently worked at young ages in the colonies. It does not seem a two-year difference in age would account for such a drastic difference in responsibilities, including the ability to witness to legal documents.
I could get into the number of contemporaries, even his enemies, who attest to AH’s honesty and frankness throughout his life as Newton does, but I won’t here. Instead, let’s assume for a moment that AH did lie about his age.
Question 1: Why would AH want to make himself appear younger? According to some, because he wanted to more closely match the ages of his classmates at King’s College. Students at King’s College were between 12 and 19, with the average age of entrance as 15. If born in 1755, AH would have been 18 upon beginning his studies. Newton points out that one of AH’s classmates, David Clarkson (enrolled in 1774), was born in 1751, so AH would not have even been the oldest person there.
Question 2: So if AH wanted to lie about his age to appear younger at King’s, when exactly did he start lying about his age? On that, historians who push the 1755 birth date can’t agree, strangely. It seems obvious that because of the intertwining of people in AH’s life, he really would have had to decide that he was shaving two years off of his age from the very time he enrolls at Elizabethtown Academy (the people he knows there carry through to King’s), if not at the moment he arrives in America.
But wait, plenty of people who knew AH or knew of him in St Croix, also lived in NYC or traveled through there often!** His employers are based in NYC! Let’s run down the people who would have had to go along with this lie:
Edward Stevens - AH’s childhood St. Croix friend, who studied at King’s College from 1770 to 1774. Their time at King’s likely briefly overlapped, and they shared some of the same friends.
James Yard - brother-in-law of Edward Stevens and knowledgeable enough about AH and life in St. Croix to provide details of AH’s background to Timothy Pickering (for Pickering’s attempted biography of AH where he entertains the notion of Thomas Stevens as AH’s real father).
Hugh Knox - possibly knew AH as early as fall 1771, definitely knew him spring 1772, travels to NYC intermittently also.
Ann Lytton Mitchell - AH’s cousin who traveled back and forth between St. Croix and NYC and discussed AH’s parentage with EH.
Nicholas Cruger and family- AH’s St. Croix employer - originally from NYC and based there; Cruger’s son marries the eldest John & Angelica Church daughter.
Cornelius Kortright and family - AH’s St Croix employer - originally from NYC and based there; Kortright & Co handle AH’s financial account when he first moves to NYC. Cornelius is the brother of Lawrence Kortright, Elizabeth Monroe’s father - I think AH lying about his age would have been a fun detail to share with James Monroe, if true.
David Beekman and family - AH’s St. Croix employer - originally from NYC.
Ship captains and merchants who traveled between NY and St Croix - not going to list them, except for George Codwise, NYC ship captain for Cruger who dealt with AH on St. Croix and years later hires AH as his attorney; he names his son Alexander Hamilton Codwise.
Note: AH would be employed as a lawyer for no fewer than 15 cases involving a Cruger, Kortright, or Beekman, and worked on cases dealing with merchants based in St. Croix. AH didn’t cut ties to St. Croix as some may think.
AH lied about his age for 30+ years, and not one of the people above ever said anything? Maybe they didn’t know that he was born in 1755? It seems highly unlikely that Stevens, Yard, Mitchell, Knox, Cruger, and Kortright would not have known AH’s actual age in St. Croix.
And it’s not like NO ONE knew that AH claimed to be born in 1757 until funeral orations were being delivered and his tombstone went up. For example:
Nicholas Fish wrote to EH that AH was “about eighteen” when he wrote his political pieces, and he’s “certain” of this because they “compared and knew each other’s ages, he being one year older than me.”
Benjamin Rush notes AH as "a young man of 21 years of age” in Oct 1777.
The Pennsylvania Gazette reports in 1781 that AH was 23 years of age in the previous year.
In AH’s letter to his uncle William Hamilton (1797), he states that he was “about sixteen” (three months shy of 16) when he arrived in America (Oct 1772) and “by the age of nineteen” could earn a college degree and became an artillery captain (1776). Both point to him believing he was born in 1757.
James Kent wrote to EH in 1832 that AH died when he had not yet reached his 48th year.
So we have to believe that AH confidently went around telling people that he was an age consistent with having been born in 1757, and never gets called out on it even though there are several people around who could have done so and caught him in this lie.
The probate record is incorrect (either the clerk or Lytton made an error, or the probate record was later mis-transcribed);
The poetry authorship or dating is mis-attributed;
Historians don’t know exactly how old one had to be in St. Croix in the 1760s to act as a witness on a property record;
AH and a number of co-conspirators lied about his age for to prevent him from being an older student at King’s College, and got away with it for over 150+ years, with no hint of this ever making its way into any record or correspondence, until the discovery of a 1768 probate record that has to be accurate.
As Brookhiser states, “[B]elieving that a man is more likely to know his own birthday than a clerk in a probate court, I will accept 1757.” pg 16, Alexander Hamilton, American
*The date of James Hamilton, Jr.’s birth, whether he is older or younger than AH, whether he’s really AH’s brother, or whether he even existed at all(??!!) is also up for debate in Hamilton biographies.
**This is a huge thing to me that I’ll get into in a few days, but gosh, AH was FAR from “an immigrant coming from the bottom” - he was wrapped in privilege with elite NYC/NJ people who knew him/of him from the very beginning of his American adventure.
A/N: This is a shorter part but it’s fluffy and adorable because you know what, there’s not enough fluffy Logan! Yes he’s kind of an ass and yes he probably kinda is a jerk but I think he’s a character that has the opportunity to change cuz like most of us daddy issues. Actually have no idea if this is reflected in his character on the show anymore cuz i haven’t watched Westworld since November, its just the background story I’ve decided to live for him ha ha! At least in my head…..either way enjoy
Logan watched you carefully as you chatted enthusiastically to the older couple beside you, sipping your coffee occasionally as you droned on about how you were able to see the great master chef himself bake the buttery croissants placed in front of you all. He knew the smile creeping on his face was a result of the way your eyebrows furrowed together as you listened intently to the older man drone on about how the community had changed, the way you licked your lips before taking a sip of your latte, the way you absentmindedly pushed your hair out of your face.
He had it bad. He knew he did and yet he couldn’t stop himself from pushing further into it. You had every right to call him out on his newfound affection. Though you were both comfortable with each other and you always tried to cuddle with him while you both mindlessly watched Netflix, he never crossed the line, respecting the men you decided to have in your life.
But you were free now and he had started to notice small things. Like your perfume. The way it mingled with your shampoo when he was near. He wanted to bury himself in it. Then the way your skin felt, smooth and soft. He could spend hours worshiping it. Wanted to spend hours memorizing every inch of it.
You laughed, redirecting his attention and he groaned internally.