the land of the living men

To be a Local Witch

Throughout history and our legends, Witches and Wizards were the crazy men and women that lived on the outskirts of the village. Their craft was wild and strange to those that lived in the village, but, nonetheless, people would seek after their wisdom of the land, the plants, the local spirits, and for wisdom or guidance in their path. These men and women, often bachelors, would know the ins and outs of the region and often went walking alone. 

Today, our villages are less rustic and more like local towns, and suburbs. But one can still be a Local Witch, and develop special connections with the land you call home. 



Become a Local Witch: 

  1. Learn Local Lore
    Folktales, legends, and even tall tales develop the culture of a town or area. Learn these. Retell them over summer campfires, and over drinks with friends. People will start to LOVE your stories. 
  2. Start Frequenting locally owned shops and stores
    Develop connections and relationships with the owners and those that work there every day. Learn their names, and introduce yourself after visiting more often. Supporting locally owned shops helps small business owners and provides nourishment to your community. This is putting down roots, and develops your connection with the people that shape your town.
  3. Find a Local Bookstore
    This is an extension of 1 and 2. Locally owned bookstores always have a Local Writers, Local Plants, and Local History sections. Ask inside where these sections are, and start devouring these books. Not only will you be supporting a local shop, but you have a direct source of helpful information. Oftentimes, employees and owners also know a lot of Lore. Talk to them about what you’re interested in learning. They probably have some hidden gems of information. 
  4. Learn about your Indigenous Plants
    Start researching and learning about the flora that grows locally, learn their lore, their uses, and magical or folklore associations. If Natives from your area used these plants, find out how. Learn where these plants grow and research local foraging. If you’ve never foraged, see if you can find a local group that can serve as helpful guides to stay safe. Never ingest anything unless you are SURE. 
  5. Start a local Plant Grimoire
    Keep dried presses of flowers and plants in it, draw and diagram to help you remember what they look like. 
  6. Learn about the indigenous animals
    Research their folklore and mythology. Start finding out what they eat, and what their habitats are. (Safely) Do your part to help foster their growth and health. This could be making insect houses to help local endangered pollinators, or leaving out special birdseed for endangered bird species in the area. (Safely) Start interacting with the non-aggressive species and leave them treats. This is great for birds, deer, rabbits, moles, chipmunks, hedgehogs, etc 
  7. Join local Conservation Projects 
    Getting directly involved in wildlife conservation strengthens our spiritual and natural ties to the land we call our home. Taking personal responsibility and interest in it’s stewardship is honoring the spirits of the land, and the Gods. 
  8. Use Google Maps while exploring parks, or protected open spaces to drop pins and places where you find animal habitats or useful plants for foraging. 

That’s all for now. More will come later I’m sure. Now go be the best local Witch or Druid you can be! 

I love Hamilton, but something about the way white fans engage with the musical really bothers me: a lot of them are posting in the tag about the actual, historical revolutionaries and founding fathers in a way that makes them seem like funny, sweet, good people. They weren’t. I don’t just mean “Jefferson was a piece of shit”: none of them were good. Every one of their asses saw black people as inferior, even if not all of them supported slavery. All of them participated in genocidal policy against indigenous peoples. If you’re watching/listening to Hamilton and then going out and romanticizing the real founding fathers/American revolutionaries, you’re missing the entire point.

Hamilton is not really about the founding fathers. It’s not really about the American Revolution. The revolution, and Hamilton’s life are the narrative subject, but its purpose is not to romanticize real American history: rather, it is to reclaim the narrative of America for people of colour. 

Don’t romanticize the founding fathers and the revolution. They’re already romanticized. It’s been done. Your history books have already propagated those lies. The revolution is romanticized as an American narrative because it was a revolution lead by and for white men. Their story is the narrative of the nation and it is a narrative from which people of colour are utterly obliterated. 

Do you understand what it’s like to live in a nation where you are made marginal and inconsequential in the historical narrative that you are taught from your first day of school? In the Americas, to be a person of colour is to be made utterly inconsequential to the nation’s history. If you are black, your history begins with slavery, and your agency is denied; they don’t teach about slave rebellions or black revolutionaries. You learn about yourself as entirely shaped by outside forces: white people owned you, then some white people decided to free you and wasn’t that nice of them? and then you’re gone until the civil rights movement. That is the narrative they teach; in which you had no consequence, no value, no impact until less than a century ago. If you are indigenous, you are represented as disappeared, dead, already gone: you do not get to exist, you are already swallowed by history. If you are any other race, you are likely not present at all. To live in a land whose history is not your own, to live in a story in which you are not a character, is a soul-destroying experience.

In Hamilton, Eliza talks, in turn, of “taking herself out of the narrative” and “putting herself back in the narrative.” That’s what Hamilton is about: it’s about putting ourselves in the narrative. It puts people of colour in the centre of the damn narrative of the nation that subjugates them; it takes a story that by all accounts has been constructed to valourize the deeds of white men, and redefines it all. 

Why was the American Revolution a revolution? Why were slave revolts revolts? Why do we consider the founding fathers revolutionaries and not the Black Panthers or the Brown Berets or any number of other anti-racist revolutionary organizations? Whose rebellion is valued? Who is allowed to be heroic through defiance? By making the founding fathers people of colour, Hamilton puts people of colour into the American narrative, while simultaneously applying that narrative to the present. Right now, across the United States, across the damn world, people are chanting “black lives matter.” Black people are shutting down malls and highways, demanding justice for the lives stolen by police, by white supremacy. And all across the world, indigenous people are saying “Idle No More,” blockading pipelines, demanding their sovereignty. And “No One is Illegal” is chanting loud enough to shake down the walls at the border; people are demanding the end of refugee detention centres, demanding an end to the violence perpetuated by anti-immigration policies. People of colour are rising up. 

…And white people are angry about it. White people are saying “if blacks don’t want to get shot by the police they shouldn’t sag their pants”; saying “get over it” about anti-indigenous policies of assimilation and cultural genocide and land theft; Jennicet Gutiérrez was heckled by white gay men for demanding that president Obama end the detention of undocumented trans women of colour. White people see people of colour rising up and they tell us to sit down. Shut up. Stop making things difficult. The American Revolution was a bunch of white men who didn’t want to be taxed, so white history sees their revolutionary efforts as just; they killed for their emancipation from England; they were militant. That, to white people is acceptable. But those same white people talk shit about Malcolm X for being too violent–a man who never started an uprising against the government leading to bloodshed. Violence is only acceptable in the hands of white people; revolution is only okay when the people leading the charge are white. 

Hamilton makes those people brown and black; Hamilton depicts the revolution of which America is proud as one led by people of colour against a white ruling body; there’s a reason King George is the only character who is depicted by a white man. The function of the visual in Hamilton is to challenge a present in which people of colour standing up against oppression are seen as violent and dangerous by the same people who proudly declare allegiance to the flag. It forces white people to see themselves not as the American Revolutionaries, but as the British oppressors. History is happening, and they’re on its bad side.

So don’t listen to or watch Hamilton and then come out of that to romanticize the founding fathers. Don’t let that be what you take away from this show. They’re the vehicle for the narrative, and a tool for conveying the ideologies of the show, but they are not the point. Don’t romanticize the past; fight for the future. 

anonymous asked:

Um the "slaves" u talk about in the middle east are not tricked into anything, they willingly come and sign up for a job cuz either they can't get one at home, or other reasons. And these "pennies" you speak of are enough for them to build a mansion.

(Here) you can learn about how the migrant workers you claim are being treated well and are being paid enough to build mansions themselves protested against their lack of pay and abuse–and how their employers, instead of listening to their demands, insisted that they go home. 

(Here) you can hear from not one but tens of thousands of south/east asian and african men and women that attest to being tricked into coming to Dubai, they will tell you about how their passports were taken from them upon landing, and how they were they told that their first six months of work would be pay-less. They will tell you about how they were told that their living conditions would be spotless and comfortable, and their shock at discovering the reality of the actual living conditions. 

(Here) you can hear about how a sixteen year old Nepalese boy died of cardiac arrest while working under conditions that no human should ever be forced to work in. You can also hear about how Nepalese men make up the largest proportion of migrant workers but are the least paid. In this documentary you can hear from men that were promised a salary of 800 dollars, but were told they would be paid less than $300 when they landed. You can again hear about how their passports were withheld from them. 

(Here) you can learn about the number of migrant workers in Qatar that are going to die working under inhumane conditions before the first match for the Qatar World Cup even kicks off. 

1-2 Nepalese migrant workers have died every single day since construction has begun–and that’s just one demographic of the hundreds of thousands of migrant workers. 

(Here) you can learn about how migrant workers are forced to work for 12 hours a day under life threatening conditions, all day every day and sometimes for no pay at all. 

(Here) you can learn about how migrant workers were refused water until they worked a certain amount of hours, how their passports were taken from them so they would not leave, how they had to escape their camps and go to their embassies to escape the brutality of their employers. 

Let’s talk about the nepalese boy again–he left his family in Nepal to go to Qatar so he could pull them out from their state of poverty. It was only weeks later that he returned to the same family in a coffin. Do you know what it takes to induce cardiac arrest in a 16 year old, healthy boy? Do you know what kind of physical peril a 16 year old child has to go through to die of cardiac arrest? 

There are 1.3 million migrant workers in Qatar right now that bear the brunt of mistreatment and that have built Qatar from nothing. And what are they given in return? Shallow graves? close to nothing for pay? 12 hour work days in up to 50 C degree weather? What mansions are you deluding yourself with? The Gulf States do not and have not ever cared about migrant workers, they treat them like they are subhuman, the failure to pay them is documented and well known. The fact that these men are tricked into thinking that they will be paid larger amounts, live in better conditions is documented and well known. The face that these men are forced into working under perilous conditions every day is documented and well known. The migrant workers that you claim are being treated well have themselves protested their abuse. What are you getting by making it seem as if these workers are treated better than they are? Why are you so uncomfortable when faced with the reality that these people are treated like machinery? (1, 2, 3

8

The Lord of the Rings II The Fellowship of the Ring
“The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was, is lost. For none now live, who remember it. It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven, to the Dwarf lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else, desire power. For within these Rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race. But they were all of them, deceived. For another ring was made. In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the dark lord Sauron forged in scret a master ring to control all others. And into this ring, he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life. One Ring to rule them all…“

8

Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.

8

colour meme: @lordstark asked game of thrones + rainbow

“Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honour to the Night’s Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.

anonymous asked:

at least non-monosexual wlw don't live in a fantasy land where men don't exist. sounds more like a symptom than a sexuality

i cant read can someone explain this to me

10

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)

Director - Peter Jackson, Cinematography - Andrew Lesnie

“The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it. It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who, above all else, desire power. But they were, all of them, deceived, for another ring was made. In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a Master Ring, to control all others. And into this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life. One Ring to rule them all!”

50% OFF Starters pt 2
  • "If you continue your attempts at flirting, I will be forced to take DRASTIC measures."
  • "I like watching you from behind."
  • "Stunning deduction sherlock."
  • *demonic voice* "by the darkest sun that casts its menacing rays of the furthest madness, we sense your intentions, (name). the gibbering of mad cultists whisper wicked words to temporal winds, they inform us that you are not to be trusted. Usurper. Usurper."
  • "USURPER!"
  • "I've heard a lot about you and your extensive collection of tank tops, like I'm thinking about getting like 10 more."
  • "Calm down little dude."
  • "the fear of drowning is a primal one. it's a feeling of helplessness, of losing all control. struggling against an inevitable fate as your lungs fill with water..."
  • "I don't need a piece of paper to tell me how to swim or how to fuck Dean Winchester."
  • "You know I had a dream like this once, you surprisingly had more clothes on, though, at least at the start."
  • "ten bucks says he dies."
  • "I'm gonna go run my feelings off."
  • "Yeah it didn't work out... for them."
  • "I have to go scream confusing, end-of-the-world ramblings at people under the freeway."
  • "I feel like I should argue this, but the potential for implied sexual antics is far too appealing."
  • "do not be alarmed! I am about to be hilarious."
  • "Maybe you should stop dragging me to these rap battles then!"
  • "I WANT YOU TO SHARE THE THINGS IN MY LIFE THAT ARE IMPORTANT TO ME!"
  • "I was under the impression there would be implied sexual antics, time to take matters into my own hands!"
  • "This feels a little exploitative."
  • "I need a soda. Or therapy. Probably both."
  • "Yeah it started because K-pop concert security is tougher than it looks but I just got hooked on the feeling of crushing someones face in with a solid right cross."
  • "sHHSHHshhshhhhh shut up shut up! shh I SMELL BOYS BEING GAY."
  • "Excuse me I am trying to scream my feelings into your mouth!"
  • "That wasn't hot... it was just fucking weird..."
  • "It's not what I would have you in, but I do appreciate beauty in all its many forms. mostly that cute booty though."
  • "hey, the heart wants what the heart wants."
  • "It may be hard to believe, but recently I lost the ability to read."
  • "Just because you can't read the words, doesn't mean you can't enjoy the book in a different way."
  • "boom! done. advice over. let's go get shitfaced!"
  • "Alright I brought the bitch-board for (name)."
  • "Alright let's call it what it is, a sissy paddle."
  • "calm down (name) we weren't talking about your internet search history."
  • "MY SWEET BABY SWAM!"
  • "didn't we make a pact to stop her from doing this weeb shit?"
  • "this better not be anymore or (name)'s weird porn!"
  • "Please call the police, because I look so good in this it should be against the law! uh, don't actually call the police though, I WILL incriminate all of you."
  • "Yeah but didn't they train on those islands where all those teenagers were killed? ...and those witch burnings happened? ...and all that toxic waste was spilled?"
  • "if you die, I get fired and I like this job. people don't ask questions here."
  • "fish-men walk among us. conquerers of land, BORN FROM THE OCEAN--"
  • "I don't need him to make weird pornography, I have prawns for that."
  • "Finally moving out, son? I'd like to say it's been fun. I'd like to. But I won't."
  • "hey check me out! I'm on a bout!"
  • "Sit down and stop making 2009 references!"
  • "nah, I scream enough at the unforgiving void of space."
  • "DON'T STEAL MY BONES!"
  • "You know, the ocean goblin? He lives in the ocean and if you don't brush your teeth he steals your bones."
  • "Ok I'm done for the day. If anyone needs me I'm gonna be in the tent looking at weird porn."
  • "Hey, you miss every ball you don't hit."
  • "You say 'you people' like you're not part of the family. I've got some news for you, you're already on the christmas card."
  • "You think these antics would fly at the german club?"
  • "brush your teeth, kid."
  • "Can you hear it? the ocean... it wants blood."
  • "I'm the best damn shot we've got."
  • "You know, when I was a kid, before my dad got hit by that train, he said, '(name) don't let your friends swim out into the ocean and get stranded on the haunted island of camp kill-a-teen.' and here we are... stranded on the... haunted island of camp kill-a-teen..."
  • "that's fair."
  • "hey tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumbass!"
  • "It's fine, baby, if you get scared you can squeeze my hand."
  • "now let's make like scooby-doo and split up to find a clue."
  • "In 1991 a case was discovered where a man had the remains of over fifteen victims hidden in his apartment, over 40% of which were stored within his refrigerator. do you know how unsanitary that is?"
  • "you're so cute when you never shut up. Now shut up."
  • "all hail decision cube!"
  • "that's when you started walking on the wild side, right?"
  • "I AM NOT SOME PETTY CRIMINAL!"
  • "Does anyone want to hear my tragic backstory?"
  • "Bed? But what about possible axe-murderers?"
  • "And we solved the curse of the island, and realized that the real axe murderer was love, all along."
  • "It was a good night for all of us, let's spend more nights in abandoned lighthouses."
  • "That hottie from the track team is here and I wanna ask politely is he wants to get rowdy in the back of my dad's Prius."
  • "YOU CAN'T CATCH ME GAY THOUGHTS"
5

You are more than the son of your father, you are the son of the earth, the sea, the sky. Magic is the fabric of this world, and you were born of that magic, you are magic itself, you cannot lose what you are.

(Please also see individual captions.)

On AO3.

Soundtrack.

Very late holiday art! Happy New Year! Inspired by Hana’s Merthur aesthetic, for which i have no chill. ILU bb! uvu *hold hands* <333

2

I want to live forever in a land where summer lasts a thousand years. I want a castle in the clouds where I can look down over the world. I want to be six-and-twenty again. When I was six-and-twenty I could fight all day and fuck all night. What men want does not matter. Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue.

100 Years Ago

100 years ago today, a group of Canadians in Northern France proved themselves as a formidable force, showing greatness in their own right, and not as a subset of Great Britain. 

Vimy Ridge is 7 kilometres long. It was heavily fortified by German forces. Previous attempts to recapture the Ridge had been unsuccessful, leading to the death of over 100,000 French and British soldiers. But the Canadians were determined. 

The 4 Canadian divisions, more than 15,000 infantry, attacked together at 5:30 am on April 9, 1917. Faced with heavy fire, the Canadians showed incredible bravery - even with the deaths of their officers, the soldiers continued moving forward. Countless Canadians single-handedly charged machine guns and German dugouts. The highest point on the Ridge, at the time protected with machine guns, was captured with a bayonet charge. The battle continued for three days, ending on April 12, 1917. By then, 3,598 Canadians had given up their lives. Another 7,000 had been wounded. 

The Battle of Vimy Ridge was so much more than just a victory for the Allied forces. It was the first time that all 4 Canadian divisions attacked together - men from all regions of Canada fighting side-by-side. Vimy Ridge became a symbol of the sacrifice of the young nation. In 1922, the government of France ceded the Ridge and the land surrounding it to Canada in perpetuity. The Vimy Memorial now stands on the Ridge as a reminder of the Canadians with no known graves who were killed in France. 

Following the war, Brigadier-General A.E. Ross famously declared, “in those few minutes I witnessed the birth of a nation.”

The signs as mythological creatures

Aries : Griffin ( Greek )
- a legendary creature with the body, tail and back legs of a lion ; the head and wings of an eagle; and an eagle’s talons as its front feet. The lion was traditionally considered the king of the beasts and the eagle the king of birds, the griffin was thought to be an especially powerful and majestic creature.

Taurus : Auðumbla ( Norse )
- a primeval cow ; Auðumbla’s name appears in different variations in Prose Edda manuscripts. In some legends Auðumbla licked man called Búri out of ice blocks.

Gemini : Huginn and Muninn ( Norse )
- two ravens that fly all over the world and bring informations to the god Odin ; Odin gave them the ability to speak.

Cancer : Rain Bird ( Native American )
- a bird who bought rain ; the rain is symbolised as the bringer of life by the Native Americans. The Rain Bird was also often drawn on some of the Native American pottery; it brought life by watering their plants and hence, giving food & water to the animals they hunted.

Keep reading

I had a bad thought

I read somewhere that after a great trauma, hair can start growing white. Like completely white. 

 So what I was thinking was that after the war, Terrasen went back to something similar to what was before Adarlan, but better. 

 A commander of the armies with golden-honey hair and flaming blue eyes, brave and noble and kind. He talks to his men as often as he can and greets them by name, asks about their families, their wives and children. He is a swordsman to behold, a warrior whose tales are told across the continent, who young boys and girls idolize. Though his ears are rounded, he will live for a long, long time. And he will remember a time when Terrasen wasn’t free. When demons plagued the land and darkness threatened the innocent. 

 A black haired Lady, who rules over her land in quiet peace. Who defends it with tooth and claw, literally. Her people love and respect her, but are aware of her power. She cares for her ward, who despite her scars looks beautiful and regal and has learned to be kind to others. And, sometimes, the people catch glances of a brave commander visiting as often as he can, smoothing down his golden hair before walking into her state. 

A black haired King, whose kingdom had once been a foe. Sparkling blue eyes that haven’t stopped reading and will not stop for a while. A pale band of skin mars his throat, and he wonders if it will ever go away. His realm, which was once filled with fear and hate, is now ruled by love and kindness and magic flourished and is wielded to the best capacity of healers, farmers and every other who wishes to do good. 

A moonlight haired witch, who rules not far from Adarlan. Her and her unit of warriors take to the skies, both for the joy of flying and the call for battle. Fearsome and undaunted, they fight battles with impossible odds and emerge victorious. By blood and the strength of her sword, she is Queen and Unifier. She brought her people home, and gave the witchlings land. 

A Lady of Terrasen, young, dark haired, and cunning. Smart, clever, beautiful, kind and strong. Her dresses, reaching down to the floor, hide her ruined ankle, even if she is not ashamed of it. A dark Fae living in her lands, because, for once, he could chose for himself. Both of them ruling together. 

And, in Orynth, in the court of Terrasen, are both the Queen and her Consort. The Queen’s husband is beloved by the people who were once reluctant to welcome him. He takes joy in a prosperous kingdom and in a happy marriage. And when he gazes in the mirror, he no longer sees a story of shame written on his skin, but a story of rebirth and destiny and hope. When he looks around himself, he no longer sees cold-hearted killers, but driven, focused loyal warriors sworn to a Queen worthy of an Oath. 

And the Queen, bent not broken, is no longer a golden haired beauty. In her spare time, she twirls a lock around her finger and refuses to think of that dark time, in a beach, in a coffin, in a dark room filled with blood-curdling screams. She pulls back her white hair, and refuses to break. Her Prince distracts her, loves her and helps her in any way she can, but he can’t drive away every nightmare, can’t light a fire in each shadow. And even though the Queen Who Was Promised is perfectly capable of lighting her own fire, darkness hasn’t left her, and the dreams won’t stop. And she burns and burns with the magic of her Goddess, but she just can’t make dawn chase away the night 

There is a village by the sea full of sirens who use any means to silence their song in order to not drag men to their deaths. Their town is partially on land, partially in the water. The sirens and humans/elves/etc. all live in peace. One of the sirens has gone off and killed dozens of innocent travelers and villagers. The town requests that you take care of her. They communicate using sign language, or write everything down. 

Vancouver To Texas

Summary: Y/N is a flight attendant on J2′s plane

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1434

Warning: None

A/N: I wrote this on possibly the worst flight of my life on my phone. Beta by the lovely @jpadjackles  and aesthetic by @babypieandwhiskey


You’ve been a flight attendant for the past five years and it’s the best job you’ve ever had. You couldn’t imagine doing anything else. You get to travel the world and get paid to do it! All you have to do is serve your passengers some food and drinks, easy enough.

This was your last flight of the day, a nonstop flight from Vancouver to Texas. You were on this route often and always loved it. When you had a few days off you would stay in Texas for a few days or in Vancouver if that was your last flight. They were two beautiful areas, each unique.

Today you had a pretty empty flight so it was going to be easy. Especially since you spotted a very attractive green-eyed man. When he was getting on the plane you made eye contact with the gentleman and he flashed you a smile that could have melted you into a puddle. He turned and took the front seat that was right next to your jump seat. How were you going to concentrate on this flight!? A very tall man sat in the seat next to him and as he sat down he elbowed his green-eyed friend and snickered.

Keep reading

Too Far

Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: The boys unintentionally hurt the reader’s feelings after making some careless jokes.

Pairing(s): MET x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, a lil bit of angst but ultimately a happy ending (spoilers).

Originally posted by antisepticdark

“What would grandma find disturbing, yet oddly charming?” Mark asked the three of you, waggling his eyebrows in a comical manner.

You scanned your cards before sliding your best into the centre along with Ethan’s and Tyler’s. Kathryn was watching from the sidelines, desperate to get some extra work done, whilst Amy was in bed ill. That just left you and the troublesome trio to record the entire live stream; not that you were complaining, they were your best friends after all.

“Okay,” Mark announced, picking up the cards in front of him. “A big, black dick. Geese. Or…” He trailed off and you suppressed a smirk as you watched his face scrunch into a grin at your card. “Mark’s unquenchable thirst for Jacksepticeye’s delicious asshole.”

The boys roared with laughter and, in turn, you laughed at their reactions. Mark had one hand clutched to his chest as he tried to control his giggles, whilst Ethan was slamming his fists on the table. Even Tyler had one of those rare, toothy smiles on his face as he chuckled alongside them.

“That’s obviously the winner.” Mark managed to get out after his laughing fit, holding up the card for someone to take it.

“Thank you, although it was Mark-luverrr-number-one-xxx that wrote that card.” You declared, plucking the black card from his fingers and adding it to your growing pile of winnings.

“Your turn to pick one, Y/N.” Tyler told you, pushing the cards across to you.

You chose another fan written one and groaned. “What does Y/N do to stay in shape?”

“Y/N? In shape? Please, I saw them get a stitch from running down the stairs too fast.” Ethan laughed and you playfully hit him on the shoulder.

“Just gimme a card so I can judge it.” You nagged him and he stuck his tongue out in retaliation, finally handing you a white card. Tyler and Mark played theirs and you spread them out in front of you. “Ethan’s dying YouTube career. Vigorous jazz hands. Or projectile vomiting.” You studied the cards before picking the ‘Vigorous jazz hands’ card and handing it back to Ethan.

“Yay, I won!” He hollered. “Although I didn’t appreciate the dig at my channel.”

“Ethan, you have three hundred thousand subscribers. That’s great, man.” Mark reassured him, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “And only about ninety percent of them came from me, be proud.”

“You fucker.”

“Ethan’s right,” Tyler cut in. “He got a few from Jack too.”

“At least I have a real channel, Tyler.” Ethan shot back. “Go on, what else were you gonna mock me for? My acne? The fact that I’m copying every major YouTuber ever? That I moved from Maine to work here?”

The other two boys sat in silence, trying to think of something else to say.

“It could be worse,” Mark said after a while. “You could be Y/N. How many subs have you got, Y/N?”

“Forty thousand.” You grumbled. YouTube was always a sensitive topic between you three, the amount of subs you had compared to your best friends was slightly insulting and you kept finding yourself wondering why your channel was so much more insignificant.

“Now, aren’t you grateful that Mama Mark got you so many subscribers?” Mark asked Ethan.

“I’m clearly not the one who needs help.” Ethan remarked, nodding towards you.

“You’re right!” Mark cried, facing the camera that had been rolling the entire time. “Whoever is watching this, go subscribe to Y/N, they’re not that bad at making videos. Well, they are, but their ideas are original. Expect the gaming, the commentary and the overall theme of it. But yeah, check it out.”

“Gee, thanks Mark.” You mutter sarcastically, trying and failing not to take it personally.

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.” He admitted. “I didn’t mean to insult your channel.”

“Right, he was just wondering why he’s friends with you when you don’t get him extra views.” Tyler joked.

“Exactly. Why do you think Ethan hangs out with me?” Mark agreed, nudging the blue-haired boy playfully.

“Go ahead, you’ve made so many jokes about my career and acne that I’m immune to it.” He challenged.

“Crap, he’s right.” Mark said. “But if we really want to make jokes about physical appearance then we can just rip on Y/N again. Their whole face is one big joke.”

Shock consumed you as you struggled to blink back the tears that were fighting to escape. You couldn’t believe that one of your closest friends had gone there, especially after you had confided in him about your insecurities.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? The weight of reality finally setting in?” Tyler asked, commenting on your silence.

“Dude, not even the weight of reality can compare to Y/N’s weight.” Ethan laughed.

That did it.

“Excuse me,” you whispered, standing up and practically running out of the room. You covered your face with one hand so that neither the camera nor the boys saw the tears flowing down your cheeks.

Locking yourself in the bathroom, you let out a loud sob that triggered several more until your throat hurt and your eyes stung. You glared at yourself in the mirror, scrutinising every part of yourself that you hated. Finally, you wiped away any traces of tears and took a deep breath before exiting the bathroom. However, you got the wind knocked out of you when you immediately walked into something solid on the other side of the door. Looking up, you realised you had crashed straight into Tyler’s chest as he and the other two stood waiting for you with concerned looks on their faces.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Ethan asked softly.

“We wanted to check on you but decided to wait until you were finished in there to apologise.” Tyler added.

You glared at them, hurt sketched across your features. Mark stepped forwards slowly and wrapped his arms around you cautiously, as if you could shatter like glass at any second.

“I’m really sorry about what I said,” he apologised. “We all are. We realise we shouldn’t have made fun of you, even if it was just a joke. It was tactless and we want to make it up to you.”

“You know, I normally wouldn’t care if you make jokes about me,” you admitted. “But what you said is true. I’m constantly afraid that you’re going to cut me out because I’m not as successful as you. And what you said about my looks, well, that just hurt.”

“Are you kidding? Y/N you’re our friend, we couldn’t care less about how many subscribers you have.” Mark reassured you. “And as for your looks, you’re the only one that sees anything besides the smoking hot piece of ass you really are.” He paused before grimacing at what he had just said. “I kinda regret saying that, but you see my point.”

“Thanks, guys,” you mumbled, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m sorry I left in the middle of the live stream.”

“Don’t worry about it, you are our main priority. We turned the microphone off as soon as you walked out. Right now it’s just showing Chica sleeping in her bed, the viewers love it.” Tyler told you with a grin.

“So do you want to continue with the stream or should we wrap it up?” Ethan queried.

“No, let’s carry on. I’ll be fine.” You told them, walking back to the table and scratching Chica behind the ears as she woke up from the commotion.

Mark switched the mic back on and apologised for the brief intermission before explaining that you were okay and everything had been resolved.

“And I just want to say in all seriousness that you should check out their channel. I have never known anyone more dedicated to their work, or as passionate about the community as Y/N. We’re all extremely grateful to have them in our lives.” He concluded.

You beamed at him, silently thanking him, before announcing that you should get back to the games.

A few hours later, you had quite possibly destroyed your friendship with the boys in Monopoly as you counted their money and stacked it into neat little piles.

“This is ridiculous, Y/N has all the good spots.” Ethan whined after landing on your square again.

“What can I say? Taking money from men is my speciality.” You say with a smile.

“That makes you sound like a hooker.” Mark laughed.

“Nah, hookers can get laid.” Tyler joked with a wink, resulting in a rude response from you as you struggled to hide the smile that had formed on your face.

“And there goes the last of my cash.” Ethan grumbled.

“Dolla dolla bills, y'all.” You cheer, making it rain with their money. “I win, bitches.”

“Congratulations,” Mark drawled. His phone buzzed and he read the notification on the screen. “It’s Amy, she says to check your YouTube account.”

You frown before pulling it up on your own mobile. Everything looked normal except… wait.

“Holy shit!” You cried, clapping a hand over your mouth in shock.

“What is it?” Tyler feigned ignorance, but the smirk on his face suggested he already knew what was going on.

“Four hundred THOUSAND subscribers! I have four hundred thousand subscribers!” You screamed, grabbing the boys and pulling them into a group hug.

“You have more than me? Ouch, that hurts.” Ethan joked, holding a hand to his heart.

“Shut up, Ethan.” Mark scolded, turning back to you. “You deserve every single one of those subs and more. I just wish it didn’t take all this for people to figure that out. Including us.”

You beamed at him, tears springing to your eyes again, only this time you were crying for a different reason. “Thank you, I love you three idiots so much.” You told them. “But just so you know, once I’m Internet famous, I’ll have no use for you.”

“Ouch.”

“Rude.”

“So true though.”

Reid’s Tirade

A/N: Anon request where the reader is working on a case which involves a really sexist cop, who happens to be working with the Bureau (not an unsub). He makes some very sexist comments toward the reader, and Reid steps in and stands up for her. @coveofmemories

Warnings: Sexist bullshit?

                                                              —–

Dammit, this case needed to be over already. You were going to have to take about a million showers to wash the metaphorical grime off your body. “I need out of here,” you said to JJ and Emily as Hotch and Morgan dealt with the lead officers. Apparently, you still worked in the dark ages when women were supposed to do nothing but walk around in big fluffy dresses, impossibly high heels and corsets that didn’t allow you to breathe, instead of modern-day America where women and men were suppose to work together equally. That would be the day. The officers couldn’t seem to control their mouths around yourself, Emily and JJ, so Hotch decided to run interference. 

“You too?” Emily said. “I feel like I need 18 showers.” She hugged her arms around her body and JJ wiped the grime off her shoulder.

“Do we still work in the 50s?” she asked. “And I feel like even 20 won’t wipe the grime off me.”

“Yea apparently,” you said. “I’m gonna go outside for a few minutes. I need some air. If you need me, send someone out to get me.”

As you walked outside, you felt like you could finally breathe. During the course of this case, the team had come across quite a few women that needed to be interviewed. Mothers and wives of victims. A couple of possible suspects. Some eyewitnesses. And these men had absolutely no finesse. They had no idea how to talk to or interrogate men, no less women, who more than likely wouldn’t respond the same way as men would. Plus, there were a few older ones that seemed to think that women didn’t belong in the work force - no less the police force. Ah, Middle America. Lovely. You couldn’t wait to get back home to DC. 

Taking a deep breath, you leaned your head back into the wall, grounding yourself and your roller-coaster of emotions. Blocking out the world tended to do that for you. Instead, you focused on your breathing, the up and down movements of your chest, the feel of the concrete at the back of your head, the sweet smell of fresh air…which was now contaminated by cigarette smoke. Goddammit. 

One of the officers, late-40s to mid-50s, had walked outside for a cigarette. The smoke wafted closer to you and you coughed, remembering your years as a child, when your grandparents would smoke pack after pack with you in the house. You’d praised the gods when they finally quit. “Sorry, little lady,” the officer said as he leaned against the wall next to you. Though he said sorry, his next puff of smoke was let out in your direction yet again. You were about to show him what a ‘little lady’ you were.

You figured being outside with one of them, or even a few of them, was better than being inside with all of them, so when another couple of officers came back from their lunch break early to smoke against the wall of the station, you stayed there, browsing your phone. But it was really hard to breathe with three cigarettes going simultaneously, so you moved a couple steps to the side the hopefully evade their next puffs. “Why don’t you go inside if the smoke is bothering you?” one of the younger ones said.

“Because we’ve been stuck inside all day and I needed some fresh air,” you replied not looking up from your phone and trying your best not to smack the arrogance out of them. It was truly difficult. Under your breath, you heard the younger one say to the older one that first came out, “This is why women don’t belong on the force, too delicate.”

Okay, now. What?

“Excuse me,” you asked disbelievingly. “What did you just say?”

He tried to backpedal, but you were so far beyond that. Four days of working with these motherfuckers and you were about to blow. “I meant nothing by it, sweetheart.” 

“First of all, I ain’t your sweetheart,” you said, realizing you were about to go off. You took note of their faces so when you went inside you could tell Hotch you wouldn’t be interacting with them anymore. “Second of all, I was out here first and if you can see that the smoke is bothering me, why the fuck do you keep blowing it in my direction? There’s a perfectly good direction, that way, that you could aim your smoke, but you continue doing it toward me.”

“Now I see why they hired you,” the third one chimed in with a laugh. This was going to be good. 

“Why is that?” I dare you. I dare you to speak. You were about to burst. You needed out of this hellhole.

“That face,” the older one said, apparently knowing what the third officer was thinking. “You’re very cute when you’re mad, still wouldn’t have made it here though, gotta have big tits to work for us, don’t you boys?”

It took you a minute to speak because you were so stunned, but by the time you were about to lose your mind, you heard someone speak from behind you. It sounded foreign to you. “Excuse me?” Spencer asked, having come outside to tell you they were about to go over the profile to hone it again. “What did you just say to her?”

“Nothing, man. Nothing,” the first officer said. “You don’t wanna get in our faces either? I really don’t understand what the Bureau is doing hiring women and boys with no muscle.” You were about to just grab Spencer’s arm, tell him to just go inside and forget about it, that they weren’t worth it, but he went off, and it was one of the most glorious things you’d ever seen. 

“Well, to start, Y/N here was hired because she as an IQ of 183, has two Ph.D.’s, one in microbiology and the other in criminology and psychology, and in addition, she’s also a double black belt in Aikido, Karate, Taekwondo, and Jujutsu. As for me, I’m also certifiably a genius with an IQ of 187, and eidetic memory and the ability to read 20,000 words a minute, while you, let’s start with you, I’ve been doing a little research, I hope you don’t mind. You,” Spencer said, pointing to the oldest one, and the one that had come out near you first, “You have two failed marriages under your belt and from what I’ve heard you had to bribe your chief to pass you for your last marksmanship test, because you failed miserably. Even I, the ‘boy with no muscle,’ passed my marksmanship test. And you,” he kept going, calling out the third one for his criminal background that was swept under the rug because the area was so desperate for officers. You were living for this. Sassy Spencer was everything. “And finally, you,” he said, landing on the middle one, the smile from tearing these men to the ground wider than the highways in DC, “you’re truly pathetic. The fact that you even made it onto the force is incredible. Failed marksmanship test, barely passed on the psychological, minor criminal background, but the one thing you did have? A father who was willing to donate to the precinct in order to get you a job. Couldn’t even make it in on your own merit. We had no issue with that,” he said, pointing between the two of you. When he caught your eye, you just smiled. “Now, we’re going to go inside because we have a profile to go over to give to the competent members of your precinct, but not before you apologize to Agent Y/N for what I just heard.” 

Spencer grabbed your hand and brought you up to him as the three officers muttered half-assed ‘sorry’ in your direction. “Good, you ready?” he asked, nodding his head at the officers.

You headed back inside, leaving the stunned officers behind. You could’ve taken care of that yourself, and he knew that, but the fact that he had been so offended on your behalf felt great. “Hey, Spence,” you said, standing up on your tiptoes and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem, Y/N,” he said enveloping you in a hug. “Plus, it was cathartic for me. It was like I was standing up to the bullies that used to torment me, so thank you for letting me go off.”

As you walked into the conference room that the lead officer had given the team for the case, Hotch, along with everyone else, noticed the smiles on your faces, and the lipstick you’d left on Spencer’s cheek. “Care to tell us what happened or…?” Morgan laughed.

“Nothing, you guys,” you said. “I was just the target of some sexist bullshit from a few of our reluctantly-cooperating officers. Spencer overheard them and told them off. The lipstick was from a kiss on the cheek as a thank you.”

“Who was talking what about you, babygirl?” Morgan asked, and as they walked back in, you pointed them out. “Don’t worry, they say anything else, I’ll rough them up a little bit for you.”

“No need,” you said, looking at Spencer. “I think Reid embarrassed them to death. It was awesome.”

Elidyr’s Sojourn
9x12, watercolor and pencil

The tradition of fairies in the Vale of Neath goes a long way back. In his Journey Through Wales (ca. 1191), Gerald of Wales tells the following story, set around Neath and Swansea:

‘The priest Elidyr always maintained that it was he who was the person concerned. When he was a young innocent only twelve years old and learning to read, he ran away one day and hid under the hollow bank of some river or other, for he had had more than enough of the harsh discipline… meted out by his teacher… Two days passed and there he still lay hidden, with nothing at all to eat. Then two tiny men appeared, no bigger than pigmies. “If you will come away with us,” they said,“we will take you to a land where all is playtime and pleasure.”’

So, they led him through an underground tunnel to a beautiful land of meadows and rivers, where the days were dark because the sun did not shine, and the nights pitch-black, for there was neither moon nor stars.

The people there were very tiny, but perfectly formed, fair in complexion, the men with flowing hair. They had horses about as big as greyhounds, and never ate meat nor fish, but lived on junkets. More than anything in the world they hated lies. Elidyr was brought before their king, who handed him over to his son, a child like himself, and they would play together with a golden ball. Elidyr would often return to the upper world to visit his mother, and was never hindered. But one day she asked him to bring back some of the fairies’ gold, and he stole the golden ball. He ran home with it to his mother by his usual route, hotly pursued by the fairies. He tripped over the threshhold, and and as he fell the ball slipped from his hand. The little men at his heels snatched it up, and as they passed Elidyr they spat at him and shouted, “Thief, traitor, false mortal!” The boy was red with shame for what he had done, but was ultimately unable to relocate the entrance to the underground passage. He searched for a year along the overhanging banks of the river, he never found it again.

The boy later became a priest, and whenever the Bishop asked him about the tale, Elidyr would burst into tears. He could still remember the language of the fairies, and when the Bishop related it to Gerald of Wales, he responded that it reminded him of Greek.

If Elidyr was lying to cover his truancy, he was spinning a traditional yarn which he knew could be believed. The underground land of the fairies is found in other early fairytales in Britain as well as Ireland, where the fairies inhabit the sidh or barrow - suggesting that fairies owe at least part of their origin to a cult of the dead.

The Day Before Worlds thoughts
  • Medvedeva is so bored she’s become a triple triple factory. Is she gonna #yolo the judging system and throw an invalid triple for shits and giggles (again)?
  • Pogorilaya skates last. Oh man. If that’s not the ultimate test for one’s nerves I don’t know what it is. It’s like hmmm okay Anna okay you’ve been consistent all season. But are you really consistent?
  • Hongo is probably dreading this competition more than anyone. She knows she’s gonna make a mess, she can’t avoid it but she’s trying to accept it. 
  • Kostner’s lutz is back. Is she gonna land everything? *drum roll*
  • Osmond has yet to keep her butt off the ice in the FS
  • I know everyone is excited about Tursynbaeva landing quads in practice but. Have you seen her lately? Is she cured of the tano disease? 
  • Bell and (Karen) Chen are almost as unpredictable as the men’s FS
  • Someone somewhere will call Mai Mihara Mai Miyahara 
  • The weight of Japan is on Mihara and Higuchi’s shoulders. Mihara has proven she can take it but it’s a big challenge for Higuchi 
  • It’s the last competition before Marin Honda is crowned the queen of JSF, enjoy it. Or dread it, there’s no in between. 
  • Haven’t seen Wagner in a while and it hasn’t been a good season for her. She can either pull herself together or - you know. 
  • Can you believe Gracie Gold isn’t here wow 
  • Will the Chen vs Hanyu battle live up to the hype or are they gonna sing some pop songs while Fernandez #yolos his way to his 3rd gold medal 
  • Will Uno survive after 1001 competitions this season 
  • Will Jin get it together
  • Will Chan get it together 
  • Actually, will any of the men get it together 
  • Oh yeah Denis Ten still exists 
  • The men’s event can only go two ways: Guinness record for most number of quads landed in a competition vs Razzie record for most number of splats splatted in a competition 
  • Pairs and dance… idk man I hope Sui/Han win and I’m pretty sure Papadakis/Cizeron won’t defend their title.