Books are the most common media for magic. The portability and ease of stacking spells (and volumes) makes them ideal for many, but there are countless variations. For instance, reptilian witches often carve glyphs into their scales.
Forest sprites on long journeys stuff pouches with painted leaves. The magic lasts until the leaves dry out or are eaten.
Magic users with a technology background sometimes use USB sticks charged with enchantments, often programmed to convert electricity into spell energy.
In areas where magic need be hidden, pencils work surprisingly well and are favored by pixies in human form. Pens tend to explode due to an inherent conflict between magical spells and mundane ink.
Kraken, lacking hands but being spoiled with tentacles, use a water jet-based technique. Spells are imbued into currents of water exhaled from their bodies. They are then gathered up and woven together by the creature’s tentacles and kept orbiting around them until they are called upon for use. This method is often used to duplicate and share spells amongst the leviathans.
Sentient deserts work the wind to carve elaborate glyphs into sand dunes, often to trap or protect creatures slumbering within.
I. Ninety-two days out of the mental hospital you told me, “cool it with the cookies”.
See, to supplement the Klonopin I cooked up my own cure.
Three slightly underdone chocolate-chip cookies taken by mouth each night with a glass of cold milk and forehead kisses.
I was trying to bake back you to life: to that good old golden brown.
Remind you what it is to have sweetness inside. Convince you to to be alive. If for nothing else, dessert.
II. The same metal spoon that crushed the pink pills under the press of your numb fingers now scoops out the dough into gooey spheres plopped on the pan.
But the chub was chunking, you said with a chuckle. “Maybe some carrots and dip? I want to start running again.”
That’s the first time I knew you had moved back into the home of your body.
III. Movie night, indie flick, Craigslist couch, lightly salted sweet potato chips (sans chocolate).
I am the Little Dipper and you are the Big.
She’s on the floor now, the lady on the screen; she’s committing suicide. No. She’s attempting it. There’s a difference.
My breath is suddenly sucked into the quick sand -trap of my trachea.
We are both so still and so quiet- there is a stillness and quietness to watching any movie, of course. But this is different.
This is a nauseating nostalgia. They will call the police now. She will stay there for weeks. By the time she gets home, the carpet will have been replaced with eggshells. The cutlery with plastic. The locks on the bathroom door with keys atop the frame.
Just then, your arms tighten around the circumference of my belly and you breathe in the hair twisted down my spine.
That’s how I know you want to be here.
IV. Some days the shadows are sticky. Some days you wake up with cinderblocks stacked sixty stories high on your chest.
Some days I pull your parts out of bed, piece by piece, and assemble them back into a body. Paste the knuckles to the palms, screw the knees to the bend, shingle the shoulders into their scaffolding.
Some days it works and you walk out of the house breathing mechanically.
Some days I can’t find the “ON” switch beneath the bruising shadows. Some days I flip it and nothing. I flick it up and down furiously and you don’t even blink.
V. Some days lick you limp. Some days I kneel by the bed and cry into your toe pads, begging them to curl and carry you into your day.
Sometimes I swear we are playing Hide and Seek because I spend all day searching for you; even through you’re right there.
Some days it’s all I can do to push the straw between your clenched teeth.
Some days your shadow stands upright and drags your carcass behind it.
VI. Some days I play a solo game of Hide In Case You Seek. Stash all the steak knives in my sock drawer; bury the box cutter in the plant’s dirt. Count the pills. One, two, three, four…
How long has it been since I checked that you were still breathing?
How long has it been since I took a breath without measuring its length, it’s intention, its air quality against yours?
VII. Last night I watched you get tattooed; the white plane of your wrist reborn in sharp technicolor.
You did not tell the artist how that very swatch of skin had once been promised to another; another blade that was hungry to spill hues across your skin; but only two: red and then black.
As she scratched meaning into your arm, you began to leak with your own pigment. I watched you bleed to live and not to die.
That time blood on your wrist meant you had chosen life.
VIII. You just told me you’re getting your graduation picture taken this Wednesday. And next fall you’re going to the rainforest to save the sick animals.
Look at you baby, going places.
IX. But for now, you are here. My head is on your shoulder. I see your x on my map. What a treasure. You are here.
“stop taking pictures! i’m fucking stuck! be useful and help me!”
drabble week day 2
word count: 940
a/n: so far i’ve had a lot of fun with this challenge! i feel a bit meh about this one, but it’s still cute. thanks for the fun prompt!
you loved the beach. you loved the feeling of the sun on your skin, warming you from head to toe. you loved lying on the sand and cooling off in the ocean. and most of all, you loved when willy went with you.
just a little something for the absolute sunshine who we all adore on her birthday, hope you like this aaron centric theme fic @aarondingel
It’s the sound of trees whistling in the breeze which stirs Aaron awake, he can hear the birds chirping away outside and something travels through him with ease as he flickers his eyes open.
Robert’s laying next to him, face turned towards his, freckles even more noticeable against his soft complexion and bed hair. He looks oddly at peace and Aaron can’t help but leave him like that for a little longer. He’s wrapping an arm around his husband, nestling closer into Robert’s chest and tugging the covers over them both because the world can wait a little while.
He’s woken up again this time by the sound of flipping drums and tin cans being smashed together and he fights the need to swear as he senses two little children bouncing through the room. Robert’s there, turning over in bed and he’s fully awake now, shivering slightly because he probably hasn’t even bothered to put the heating on.
Robert leans down and kisses Aaron, sends something pulsating through the younger man as he looks at his lips. “I’d kiss ya thirty times but -”
Aaron gulps, “Yeah, keep it PG.” He mumbles out, desperately fighting the need to just go crazy and ask Robert to touch him in all the right places.
He can’t go around doing that though because Annie and Jacob are edging closer and they’re looking ridiculously adorable. They’ve both got neon hi-vis jackets on and the colour startles Aaron’s sleepy eyes.
Jacob’s only five but he seems to think he’s much older as he stands there cheekily waiting for his dads to pay him attention. He’d grown so much recently and it’s scary. Aaron can think back to the days when he used to sleep in between him and Robert and they’d just watch him breathe because they were that scared about something going wrong. He was perfect though, in every way he could be.
“Daddy! Happy birthday!” He’s saying, jumps hard on the bed and lands on Aaron’s thigh making him groan out in pain as Jacob fights a laugh and Annie looks all concerned.
She’s like that, Robert says she gets it from Aaron but Aaron’s always there to remind him of how caring and sweet he can be too and yeah, Robert only believes it sometimes.
He’s still got a long way to go before he genuinely believes Aaron’s sticking around and it’s crazy because Aaron was convinced he was the insecure wreck in the relationship. But since they got married officially, it’s Robert who says soppy things about wanting to not waste a single second of happiness.
Like it’s going to just evaporate soon.
It isn’t. Aaron knows it isn’t.
“You can’t do that to daddy anymore, he’s getting old like me.” Robert laughs out, watches Aaron laugh and then start attacking Jacob with tickles as his curly brown hair charges into Aaron’s chest.
Aaron rolls his asks, reminds Jacob and Annie how old he is now and watches them gasp and widen their eyes in shock.
Then Robert tells him his age and they topple over the bed dramatically as they gasp.
It’s a light moment, one Aaron didn’t think he could afford.
Aaron’s got to do the whole blindfold, act like you can’t hear your kids whispering loudly, thing.
He’s fighting a smile, biting down hard on his lip actually and then he feels a tray drop on his lap and he’s gasping.
“Take it off now daddy.” Annie whispers, all soft edges and blonde locks.
Aaron removes the blindfold and reads the toast out with a smile: ‘Happy birthday daddy.’
Robert’s standing there, looking all hot and bothered because he’s probably left the kitchen in a mess and the kids have probably run riot downstairs whilst Aaron’s been lounging about in bed. But he does this wink and something literally melts in Aaron’s heart.
“What about this one?” Alicia asked as she held up a red DVF wrap dress to her body.
Bitty shook his head.
“I like the green better.”
She smiled and nodded in agreement, “You are so right, sweetheart.”
“Great! Now are we ready for the glass of wine you’ve been promising all afternoon?”
Alicia nodded and wrapped her arm around her son-in-law’s as they walked toward the register. “God, yes. And some dessert?”
“You know it, sister.”
“That’s quite a pickle you’ve gotten yourself into, Jack,” Coach said as the two looked at Jack’s golf ball stubbornly settled into the sand trap.
“Exactly, son. That bunker’s got your ball, but good.”
Jack studied the ball carefully then looked at Coach who put his hand on Jack’s shoulder and said, “Remember, if you hit the sand too early, it’ll dig instead of skip.”
Jack nodded and took a swing, as Coach smiled in approval.
“That’s it. That’s it right there!”
Alicia, Bob, Coach and Suzanne had finally left after spending a week with Jack and Bitty, and while they were ecstatic to have their parents at home with them, they were now exhausted and happy to be alone.
“Did you put the chicken in the fridge?”
“Shit, I forgot.”
“But I’m already in bed, Bits.”
“So you’re just gonna let it spoil?”
“I’m tired,” Jack groaned and muttered his protests as he buried his head into his husband’s neck.
“No sir! Cuddling me isn’t going to work. Go downstairs. Go on – I’m not going to do it.”
Jack nibbled Bitty’s neck, as Bitty squealed.
“Jack Laurent Bittle-Zimmermann, get your glorious ass downstairs and put the damn chicken away.”
“Fine,” Jack said as he rose from the bed and began to pout.
“Oh, and Jack?”
“Yeah?” Jack asked as he stood by the door frame.
Jack suddenly reached out and caught what he then realized were Bitty’s underwear. He laughed and swung them around his head before he flung them back toward Bitty. He walked down the hall.
“And hurry back!” Bitty called out.
Jack happily ran downstairs to their kitchen to put the leftover chicken away, then joined his naked husband waiting in their bed.
“Hey I absolutely love your imagines!! And you are pretty much the only one that does prison break imagines, so I was wondering if you could do and imagine where the reader is pregnant with Michael’s twins and he is aware that the reader is pregnant but not with twins. So after everyone breaks out he gets the reader but something dangerous occurs (it’s up to you what) and he figures out the reader is pregnant with twins” -Anon
After Telling Michael I was pregnant, and seeing his reaction; a huge pile of stress left my shoulders. I was now ready to prepare and look forward to what’s going to happen next. He was happy, I was happy and nothing will get in our way. Well, silly of me for believing that.
Because now I’m in a passenger seat, Michael is speeding and FBI cars are racing behind us. Sand would get trapped into the vehicle wheels, occasionally almost tipping us. My hand gripped onto the passengers door frame, till my knuckles would turn ice white; my other hand gently rubbing my 7 months belly that was the size of 3 watermelons.
I know, too big for how far I am with one baby. Only, it wasn’t only one baby. It was two. Two heart beats. Two lives inside of mine. Lives that were in my hands, and my life in Michaels hands; and the car holding all of our lives. Too many lives.
“Michael, slow down” I scream, my heart beating out of my chest.
“We’ll lose them soon, y/n” Michael says while I could still hear the panic in his voice. I don’t think he even believes it himself.
The car we’re in tips a little, and then with a bounce, it’s goes back on all wheels.
“Yeah, well, we’ll lose our kids lives with it if we don’t do something soon.”
“Yes, Michael. Have you forgotten I’m pregnant with your child”
“No…” His voice sounded way too calm for the situation we’re in- “You said kids”
“I know” now my tone was more timid.
“That’s… more than one…”
His eyes connected with mine, longer than it should be. I could see the realisation in his face. The way it softened. The way his bottom lip looses muscle and drops. The way his eye lids quickly closes and opens repeatedly.
“Michael, the road”
His head snaps back to the steering wheel. Focusing on his driving, while in his head he’s going through what I had just accidentally dropped onto his shoulders. Then, out of nowhere, he shuffles in his seat and a smile raises on his cheeks. Excitement buzzing through his body.
“You on drugs, baby?” I ask.
“No, no, this is good news” he exclaimed, “Our family is going to be bigger than we had in mind”
This is my first attempt at a Veronica Mars fan fiction, so any feedback on my characterization in particular would be wildly appreciated. Set immediately after The Wrath of Con in season one. Logan x Veronica fluff/comfort fic. Enjoy!
gasped out a laugh as the frigid water enveloped her fully, soaking her naked
skin. Goosebumps erupted across her flesh and the taste of salt tingled on her
lips. She dove under the water, heedless of her makeup and her curled hair,
exalting in the feeling of the night’s diminished waves breaking against her as
she came up for air.
lit up the waves in a ghostly light, and she could barely make out the details
of the limo waiting for her by the road. Seaweed tangled around her toes for a second
before being swept away by the current. Maybe this wasn’t exactly the sexy,
booze-fueled kind of skinny dipping Lilly would have had in mind for her first
time… her best friend would have had it as a salacious rendezvous with some
attractive, older guy or a drunken interlude to a party between the two of
them; one where they could share secrets and talk of boys and the plans they
could share for the future.
Lilly wasn’t ever going to have…
fingers found the pendent hanging from her neck, wrapping around it, and she
breathed a plume of misty air into the sky. Maybe this wasn’t what Lilly would
have planned for Veronica’s introduction to the scandalous world of skinny
dipping, but maybe her best friend would be proud that Veronica was finally
crossing something off her “Never Have I Ever” list.
Mars?” Veronica spun in the water, sending an arc of water flying around her as
her arms instinctively came up to wrap around her chest despite the depth. “As
I live and breathe.”
Hey hi I'm sorry to bother but I really?? Feel like I've been hexed or cursed. I've had nothing but bad luck for the past few months, people I think love me end up using me, losing people and I'm nearly in tears constantly from the hurt. I'm so tired and I want it to stop but I have no idea what to do. I've never dealt with something like this before. Is there anything I can do to help or stop this or just bring back some good luck?
Sorry you’re having such a hard time right now.
I find trouble often collects together in one big lump and that’s often how life goes. However, if you do truly feel like you’re cursed, there’s several measures you can take to help yourself out.
Unhex and uncross yourself. This is literally going through the steps to counter any curses that may have been placed on you.
Cleanse yourself, your home, your workplace, and your vehicle. You might not be able to actually cleanse your workplace or home for whatever reason but try if you can. Blessings and similar spells or rituals should take place during this time. Healing spells are also good to do after cleansing yourself.
Set up protections and other household spells. If you have protections on your home beforehand, pull them down during the cleansing process and rebuild them afterwards. Best to get all the gunk out in one go rather than having to repeat this down the line because you missed something.
Spells to boost luck, finances, love, or whatever else you’re currently lacking. This is the time to cast all the other spells to help you balance your life again. What you select to cast here is entirely up to you and your situation but I recommend a general luck spell and probably a new friend attraction spell.
Sometimes our minds become our own traps and the only way to release ourselves is to set them free and get away for a short while. Go somewhere where it’s calm and peaceful. Like the beach at sunset for instance. Don’t think about anything. Listen to the waves crashing onto the golden sandy shores. Listen to the birds chirping and the subtle wind blowing through your hair. Don’t think. Watch the sky change from every color right in front of your eyes. If you’re lucky maybe there will be heat lightning to dance along the clouds. Don’t think. Listen to your own heart and the rhythm as it tries to follow the calm of the waves. Breathe in the fresh ocean air and let it fill your lungs. Close your eyes for a moment and picture your self here. Picture your self sitting on the boardwalk taking in all this beauty. Picture your self waking along the shoreline picking up shells and small rocks to take home to remember your time at the beach. Don’t think. Remember how calm and quiet this moment is. Remember it when you have gone back to your crazy reality. Just close your eyes for a moment and think about it. It’ll ease your mind. Like I said……Don’t think.
You told me before that your goal was out of this world. That space has always been a part of you, your heart and mind. Every fiber and sinew in your body ached for it. You breathed the nebulous unknown and it filled your chest with its thousand possibilities light years from Earth.
You’re there now, and you’re not coming back.
I suppose I’m not surprised. I’ve watched long enough, behind gyms and classes after school, sweat-slicked hair, coffee-stained sweatpants, long nights and arid summers when you stood out in the desert just beyond the Garrison fence. Looking up, feet in the endless sand, eyes trapped in a blank canvas. You saw things that no one else did and when you spoke of them it appeared as if your heart had settled on the tip of your tongue, danced for the world’s majesty.
It’s a beauty hard to forget.
They say you’re dead now. You’re not. There’s too much vibrancy that bursts forth with each thing you do that it’s impossible to believe a man like you could ever die without tipping the world on its axis. I’ve never felt that I’d stand as an equal with you. But now I have to because no one else will.
Rey’s section of Before the Awakening starts least a year before the events of The Force Awakens. I’m omitting most of the plot details the story, in case you are inspired to read it, but here’s some stuff that struck me.
The long wrap she wears seems to serve both to protect her mouth (and eyes, at this point, because as of the start of the book she doesn’t have the goggles yet) from the sand, as well as hands when she grabs metal that’s been in the sun for a while, like gloves.
She mentions trading her previous set of goggles for “two portions, barely enough food to silence her stomach for a day”; in the movie, we see her get ¼ portion and ½ portions for various days hauls, so, like, yeesh, Rey. That poor girl is regularly starving.
Most of the scavengers on Jakku work in teams, but Rey never, ever has; she starts interacting a little more with two people over the course of her story & is very very prickly about it at first.
Over the course of her section of the book, she finds a complete ship that no one’s found yet, and her biggest fear is finding a dead body on it; she doesn’t, but she does find a bunch of rations, and a bed, which “was far too soft. She ended up on the floor.”
Literally everything she owns is due to her scavenging and trading for it (like the generator she uses to power her little home), or building it herself (the speeder: “She’d had the speeder for years, built it herself as she had so many other things, and as much as she could allow herself a sense of pride in anything, she was proud of that.”)
She has workbench where she takes fixes up a lot of the stuff she finds, because “Unkar always paid more for things that still worked.”
SHE ALSO PUTS TOGETHER A COMPUTER: “using pieces scavenged from several crashed fighters over the years, including a cracked but still-usable display from an old BTL-A4 Y-wing”, AND finds a bunch of data chips, one of which is a flight simulator.
So whenever one of the (DAYS-LONG) sand storms traps her inside her little AT-AT home, she uses the simulator: “She could select any number of ships to fly, from small repulsor-driven atmospheric craft to a wide variety of fighters, all the way up to an array of stock freighters. She could set destinations, worlds she’d never visited and never imagined she would, and scenarios, from speed runs to obstacle courses to system failures.” She’s been doing this for long enough that she purposefully programs the simulator to throw EXTREME SITUATIONS at her, to keep it challenging, but she’s had so much practice she pretty much aces them.
Like, “with a perverse sense of determination that she would not allow herself to be beaten by a machine that she herself had put together with her own hands, she learned.” OH REY.
Hola there business partner in crime can I get a sceanio where kookie ts a teen dad and is kid is half he takes his baby to the park where parent judge him for being a dad and his mixd baby
Genre: Fluff / Family
The afternoons were starting to get cold, not
enough to keep people inside their houses, but just a light touch of chill on
the air that reminded everyone to at least take a jacket before going out.
Jungkook let the curtain fall, covering the window through which he’d been
eyeing the sky outside to see if the weather wasn’t that gloomy to interrupt
–Daddy? – a soft sweet voice resounded behind
his back and made Jungkook turn to face his two years old son. He walked
towards him and crouched to be at Junho’s level, the baby had made his way to
the living room, still holding tightly his little blanket inside his fist.
His face was a little swollen from the nap he
had just taken and it made Jungkook smile, it was cute, was what it was, there
wasn’t other way to describe it. He patted softly Junho’s head and saw him
blink a few times.
–What is it Junho? Are you hungry? –
Junho rubbed one of his eyes with his free hand
and nodded softly, Jungkook should have known, his nap was longer than normal
and his son was used to eat something around that hour.
–Alright, let’s see what dad has got for you–
He leaned forward to grab Junho, who instantly opened his arms for his father
to carry him.
By now, Jungkook was already used to the way
his child felt between his arms, already knew the safest ways to hold him, knew
how nice it felt when Junho rested his head on his shoulder. It’d been a
journey of learning, and where Jungkook had been once a fumbling and unsure teen,
afraid even of the little creature that now depended of him for practically
everything, now he was used, confident while holding his baby up and sitting
him on the high chair by the kitchen while he rummaged around with developed
confidence to pour some water into Junho’s sippy cup and grab the smashed potatoes he’d leaved to cool earlier.
He fed Junho throwing a few airplane
effects to make his son laugh, and whenever the baby did, Jungkook felt his
heart expand a bit. He would have never imagined he would find himself in this
situation, when he looked back two years ago to his life, the person he was
wouldn’t believe anyone who told him he was going to have a baby while still
being so young himself; yet there he was, pushing another spoonful into his son’s giggly mouth and the person he was now wouldn’t believe anyone
who told him he should be having another life.
Hi there! One of my younger siblings just came home with three (!!) goldfish after a science unit, and of course, we're woefully unprepared- I know about the 30 gallons per fish rule, but do you have any suggestions for what kind of basic set-up would be best for them? I only know about betta fish, haha...
Uh oh! Arguably the most important part of goldfish ownership is having a good filter and doing regular water changes. Goldfish are messy little critters. I don’t have any filter recommendations, however… So if any of my followers keep goldfish or know what a good filter type/brand is, that would be great. Otherwise, a basic setup is really just a tank, or one of those plastic fish ponds. I’ve read that the best ‘substrate’ to use is either none (bare bottom), tile, or larger river rocks, as sand or typical gravel trap and hold ammonia, which goldfish produce in high amounts, making it harder to keep the water clean. You can use just about anything as decoration that you want, so long as your fish isn’t going to swallow it or get stuck in it. You can try planting the tank, if you want, but don’t be surprised if your fish eat the plants.