#to be clear i have not actually watched witchcraft so all info i know about it is second hand from ostinatos

[spacetrashpile]

ok so i recognize that shelby said in her stream today that witchcraft joey and pirate joe are not the same person. however, 1. @pixlostinatos and i were having this conversation before we knew about this and 2. this is funnier, so we're gonna pretend.

so we were talking about the implications of shelby and joey's endings, and the fact that, in his episode 3 of witchcraft, joey makes a remark about being "a pirate in a past life" (around the 31 minute mark)

we came to, like, two extended conclusions.

joey's ending for season 2 is akin to his season 1 ending. it was all a hallucination/dream, and he's just dead now. this is not in tone with the rest of the season, and as such, very unlikely, and less fun for all involved.

his ending is NOT a hallucination, and he just dies somehow in between the finale and the start of witchcraft. don't worry about it.

however, if he's reincarnated as witch!joey the Normal way (y'know, being born as a new person), that makes witch!joey, at most, 11 years old. and while it is hilarious to consider that all these adults took the competition with this 11 year old totally seriously, it's also... no. no i'm not doing that.

so, we decided that at some point in witch!joey's life, the soul of pirate joe just got shoved into his brain due to the whims of the universe. cause why not. it's kinda funny.

this leaves two options for how that went about, in our eyes.

the reasonable option: this is why witch!joey developed his fire powers. universe said "here's some new, antithetical powers, and a new soul to mix with yours. have fun!" he figured this out at some point in his life through normal reasons, perhaps by seeing shelby for the first time and being like "hold on, i know her. why am i a pirate in the memories i have with her."

the FUNNY option, and the reason i made this post: witch!joey and pirate joe's souls got combined at some point when he was a kid, and literally no one noticed, including witch!joey, for multiple years. witch!joey (canonically gay) only figured out something had happened when he briefly remembered katherine and was like "wait a second".

[orangepunkwitch-blog]

I'm at my desk briefly because I had to make sure that I didn't fuck up some code when I changed the display pic (I got no idea how goofed this site has become when it comes to functionality anymore). I successfully did it without an issue.

The photo used for my display pic was taken by my muž yesterday. The significance of this as my display pic is that in Serbian folklore, it is believed that witches turned into butterflies. And I adored this photo that he took.

I use "witch" and "veštica" interchangeably from a US context, not from a Serbian one, where there's a difference between a "witch" and a magical practitioner. I don't know if "veštica" is used in a derogatory manner there like... I think "vedma" is (and I think that's the female version). I'm foggy on my memory and can't remember where to look that up.

Real quick before I hop off here for about a week, I wanna point everyone here to some sources if you REALLY need info right now:

Radomir Ristic - He was an ethnographer who released 2 books that I have read, which were Balkan Traditional Witchcraft and Witchcraft and Sorcery of the Balkans. A third book of his is supposed to come out called Vešticja Bašta: A Witch's Garden which would cover the Balkan lore, occult, and other such properties surrounding herbs and plants. Unfortunately, despite having a release date that kept getting pushed back, all site that had it up for pre-order now say that it's temporarily out of stock. I'm certain that it may have something to do with his death, as he passed away in early 2020 from a respiratory illness (it wouldn't surprise me if it was covid back then before we knew what this virus was at that time). The first book, the translation is kinda choppy, so watch out for that. (It's also important to note that no matter what your path or practice is, try to find academic sources if you can! For anyone looking for Balkan (especially Serbian) sources, Radomir's is a good start!) I know Amazon is a shit company, but here's a link for at least the list of books by him in case you wanna search on other sites. There's also some kinda journal with several issues he has some work in but I don't know anything about them, and therefore cannot give you my opinion on them.

Vladimir Zlatic (my alt code thing won't let me get the correct letter here) - This guy was raised in rural Serbia, so he does his best to share in English what he has learned, both from what he was told growing up as well as what he has managed to research on his own. He self-published his work on Amazon, so he doesn't have an editor and doesn't have a translator, so be ready for some semi-clear English (I actually find it fun to read). He has books covering the following topics: gods, plants, objects, demons/spirits/monsters/beings, animal cults, places of power. I don't have the last 2 yet as of this writing. I must warn that this is a rather questionable source, as in the book about the gods, he does cite The Book of Veles, and I'm not sure what other sources could be problematic that he's mentioned. Take the one about the gods with a grain of salt, and never use one source as your basis for your path. (Also, the plant book only talks about some lore, not actual magickal practices. The same can be said for the magical objects one. I'd prefer it this way myself, as I'm technically making up my practice as I go along, adjusting to the times, the awareness of current issues in the world, and accessibility.) Unfortunately, like I said earlier, he self-publishes on Amazon, so unless you know where else to find his work maybe secondhand or something, it's the only place you'll find these books of his. But within this list are books of something else he writes about unrelated to Slavic/Serbian Mythology stuff, and because I know nothing of that topic, I therefore have no opinion about such subject matter.

Lug Velesa - This is a Serbian Rodnovery community where I've found some pretty valuable information (although to be honest, google translate has helped me a lot with their site). They have a tumblr, a website, and even a YouTube channel! If you do visit their YouTube channel and you don't speak Serbian, you can turn on the closed caption subtitles and they're in English (not sure about other languages, sorry!)

Ancestral Witch - Yaya Nganga Yasmina - I think she's Macedonian from what I remember, but she covers lots of Balkan traditional stuff regarding magick. However, be prepared to hear her say things like what paths are best for you, rather than getting to pick any path you want (I can't remember what video(s?) she said this in). This doesn't cancel out the fact that she still gives some valuable info, though. Unfortunately, she also passed away back in 2018 (from what I remember reading, it was a house fire, but I'm not sure if that's correct). You can find her YouTube channel here.

There was one other YouTuber who did specifically Serbian witchcraft; she lives in Canada and had some good tips and such (I hope to share in another post if I remember), but was essentially chased off the internet. I can't quite remember her name, but I THINK I still have the link to her website. I won't be linking here even though she has it locked still (I think) for her safety. I believe it was because of some of the practices she did such as sacrificing a wasp or a small fish. (It's not like she did it willy-nilly. And no, I don't agree with such things. Again: another post for another time.) So unfortunately, I cannot share such a source, and if you know who I'm talking about and came here to find said source, I'm sorry that you've come across a dead-end here.

I hope these sources help you on your path! I'll eventually share a few of the things that I do, but I do wanna share the importance of adjusting some practices with the times (an example in my case would be how important beekeeping is in some Slavic cultures, but I'm in the US and the European Honeybee is invasive, so I would instead turn my efforts towards helping native bees instead and supporting already-established beekepers and apiaries instead of adding to it) as well as how different witches of one tradition's practices differ on colonized land as opposed to the country of origin.

I apologize if all this info is limited, but with the surgery I've had back in 2021 due to endometriosis along with a buncha other stresses from last year and now my periods are irregular, I must go prop myself up in bed and watch monster movies and read books and such (and hope I'm able to focus!) until this period blows over and I can get on with life.

My apologies to anyone searching the tags and stumbled onto this post around the time when this was posted to my blog!

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/9/21

ALMOST birthday problems

listening short ride in a fast machine, john adams. i listen to a lot of instrumental stuff throughout my workday and there are only so many video game soundtracks i actually like.

this version is nearly a full two minutes shorter than the version on spotify i liked best. this piece looks fucking exhausting to both play and conduct, and the comments are full of conductors complaining about it lmao

read the wiki page like “okay what is this About is it an experimental piece about spaceships bc that’s what i want this fluttering-adrenaline-pulse piece to be about” no! it’s about eighties sports cars. it does not sound like it should be about eighties sports cars. 

i know just enough about classical music to be dangerous. i know what i like, which is when people incorporate folk music into their style (copland, dvorak), music featured in the barbie ballet movies (tchaikovsky), and a very small number of bach chamber works (one specific doctors’ waiting room music). this doesn’t really fit into any of those and sounds more like a movie score to my (bad, deaf) ear but it’s a pretty cool four-minutes-and-change.

reading Has Witch City Lost Its Way? by Kathryn Miles for Boston Magazine

the author asks this question and then kind of shrugs at it. this was a weird one! i’ve been to salem quite a few times. it’s a very charming little town on the sea with good nightlife, you can take the train into boston, the rhythm and flow and concerns of a tourist town are very familiar to me, it’s almost the perfect place for me to live, and i could never ever live there bc 1) money and 2) i find it absolutely fucking insufferable in large doses. i think the intersection between queer people and astrology/witchcraft/woo is fascinating, and it probably is a great way for some people to reclaim the concept of religion, but please god get all that as far away from me as possible. i like nondenominational spookiness and vampires and that’s about it.

it’s very difficult for me personally to think of witchcraft without thinking of both queer people and terfs. it’s odd that the author did not address this, nor did she mention that many of the “witches” killed were people of color. the author does point out that hey! it is super weird to disneyify a place where atrocities were committed! but she also flinched away from any real criticism about the modern white witchy movement trying to make itself as palatable as possible though commercialization. except in a very oblique way, bc all her interviews were with people who have a vested commercial interest in “Witches Are Nice And Friendly Actually”

this is quite long for a puff piece, with several interviews conducted for background info, and i get the feeling there was a very heavy editorial hand here. massachusetts people are fucking terrified about losing out on tourism, since historical events are really the only thing the state has going for it (unlike jersey, where yeah tourists drop a lot of cash, but there’s a sort of indifference about how the state is viewed? they’re assholes and proud of it and massachusetts ppl are assholes and really defensive about it).

watching not quite a fallow week, but bouncing off a bunch of anime while trying to find something just okay enough to handsew. bouncing off things for very petty reasons, let it be clear. saving The Harder They Fall as little a treat for myself tonight, bc i have YET ANOTHER work call w/japan.

playing one cycle/playthough of The Remainder (act 1/free prologue) free on steam by Square Weasel Studios.

i like to keep an eye on the LGBTQ+ tag and this one is in fact gay, people have hair and pronouns. there's a sea-based magical and religious system! please pay attention to the psychological horror content warning up top!

art style is delicious- there's been a rash of "magical otome protag with amnesia" lately (the arcana is i think the most famous), and i do like how they're like "what do you look like? hah just kidding, this is u :)"

romance/otome/dating games have consistently been some of the most fucked up games ive ever played, for reasons of Genre that could be several theses on its own. i appreciate the content warnings at the top, but even though this is not a game specifically tailored for a fanbase (i think it would work better without the name customization, actually) it does have a beautiful tragic sadperson whomst i expect to see some cosplay/fanart/fanworks for. there isn’t a good gender-neutral term for sadboy. bear with me.

inside baseball industry musings, my company does not rep them, all thoughts my own &tc: i cannot immediately find a ton of info about this studio, other than they're canadian. this is odd, bc finding info about games and studios is literally my job, esp bc they are also doing all the Indie Marketing things right EXCEPT for social media- releasing a free teaser like this, doing episodic drops with completely different SKUs so they keep getting fresh eyeballs, and a very high-effort and polished art style. they also have a very well thought out steam page that properly sets expectations and gives a good teaser of the game. their thumbnail is fucking killer and drew me in in the first place, and the whole thing (aside from one! one singular typo in the actual game itself! very forgivable!) is very polished. this team knows what they’re about. i'm sad nobody's really talking about this, but we are experiencing an absolute glut of games right now.

it doesn’t really look like anything i’ve seen before, which is always very exciting. it’s got flashes of dry humor that i like very much and i probably will pick up the full game when it’s out in feb (ep 2 is out but i like consuming completed things bc i Never remember to come back to them)

making hey remember this bad boy? finally washed it on cold/delicate/with woolite and on the extreme-low-heat dryer setting, then absolutely crisped it again on high for a bit bc i am quite paranoid about moths and carpet beetles. i would like to hang this on the wall adjacent to my work desk bc there’s been a bad echo on all my calls lately, but this blanket is very hard to look at. so it is folded up small and thrown artfully over our maroon futon and they kind of cancel each other out.

the fringe is in okay shape, i started combing it out before realizing that’s an insane thing to do and i only have a limited number of hours on this here earth. the thing i DID do was reattach the fringe in the seven or eight places it was peeling off. i think it was originally machine stitched on, which makes sense. although if you hand-embroidered and hand-quilted a blanket of this size, a little bit of straight stitch is going to be Nothing to you.

teaser of next week’s tuesday again no problem, bc god willing i will have cleaned/deodorized/built a proper frame for this thing and hung it up

[walker-journal]

Mages and Mortasheen (Adam+ Luce)

Location: White Crest beach after a Nucklavee attack. 

Participants: Adam Walker (Hunter), Lucinda Vural (Spellcaster)

Premise: In the aftermath of a Nucklavee attack Adam is tasked with clearing away the poisonous Mortasheen left in its wake. He and Luce cooperate to try and dispel the miasma before the powerful demon can return.  

Content Warnings: Mass Poisoning, Animal Death, Contagious Disease (Mortasheen)

Adam leafed through the yellowed pages of ancestral journals, creasing back their leather-bound spines to peer closer at anatomical drawings, chemical formulas, and to compare eyewitness accounts side by side to wrap his head around the discrepancies. He explained the situation to Lucinda as books, journals, and scrolls were spread across the table like an occult study date. Hunter lore and witchcraft intermingled in a menagerie of diagrams that contrasted Adam’s materialistic legacy of biology with the higher mysteries that Vurals practiced.

The purpose of this research meeting concerned a Nucklavee, an incredibly powerful aquatic demon that was infamous in the Orkney islands. The creature was gone for now. Nucklavee were dangerous not just for their raw might, but also the demonic plague they breathed. The coast where the Nucklavee had emerged was now coated with the taint of this ‘Mortasheen’ plague. Even with the Nucklavee absent, this biohazard needed to be removed before it started  killing beachcombers.

“Hey stop it!” Adam slammed his hand down on a certain demoniac grimoire that an ancestor had taken from an annihilated cult. The skin-bound book recoiled like a viper struck on the head, letting out a low hiss as the veins of its pages pulsed briefly in anger before calming down. “We can ward off the Nucklavee by burning seaweed on the coast,” Adam continued after squirting a for a while another vein-branched page. “But there’s so much Mortasheen there...this can’t be ordinary fire,” the Hunter concluded, lifting his eyes from the book to the pyromancer across from him.

When Adam had reached out to her, looking for some help with a situation, Luce hadn’t expected it. For one, she couldn’t remember the last time she and Adam had actually talked-- the blender she’d sent his way didn’t count. Just as a general rule, Luce didn’t spend much time talking with frat guys. She saw them enough at Ink as herds of snap-back wearing college students came in and got the dude-bro equivalent of friendship bracelets tattooed around their biceps. But, Adam was a Hunter. And he was dating Nell, which was a trip and a half to think about. As she scanned the documents that Adam had brought with him, she nodded as she scrutinized the words. It seemed like a straightforward enough ritual. Get rid of the Nucklavee bullshit before it could spread by burning away the muck it had left behind.

Raising an eyebrow at the quivering book that growled and hissed on the table, Luce let out a snort. “Someone seems pissy.” She said, tapping the book with the end of her pencil. The grimoire shuddered in response, but she ignored it, listening to Adam instead. “Which is where I come in. Sounds straightforward enough to me. It probably wouldn’t hurt to burn some herbs around the area either.” She said, rubbing her leg absently. Protecting the town, fucking with some monsters? Sure. She could do that. This was easy and normal and something that wouldn’t keep her up at night. Everything she’d done lately kept her up at night. “Anything else I need to know about these knuckle things?”

“Uuuuh if it comes back before we’re done we’re totally fucked,” Adam confessed, scratching the back of his neck with one hand while turning another of the tome’s soft organic pages with the other. “We’d need a whole squad and an arsenal to take a Nucklavee on and there’d still be casualties,” the Hunter said with the grim practicality of someone born into war where humanity was vastly outgunned. “But if the Mortasheen can be purified, the burning seaweed should keep it from coming back to shore...if the texts are right anyway.”

Adam hesitated. “Hey uh, Luce I can't pay you for this right now.” The ebbing of Adam’s abilities also meant money from bounties wasn’t a thing at the moment. “But I swear I’ll figure something out. This thing just can’t wait.”

Totally fucked. That tracked Luce thought as she nodded in understanding. But, at least this seemed like something good. Something that wouldn’t involve killing and murder. Something that could actually help this fucked town. “In that case, I’ll get the good sage.” She said with a nod before rummaging around in the drawers of the room. They’d hardly be able to call themselves a house full of witches without bundles of herbs crammed in every other room. Nell’s garden supplied them with an abundance of magical herbs that were used to power the various rituals the girls performed. “Sage and lavender should work, but thyme never hurts either.” She said, grabbing a handful of corded bundles of herbs. Tossing one to Adam, she shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Nell won’t mind a few of these going missing, we have a bunch in the greenhouse drying.” She said, keenly aware of how he’d let her beat the shit out of him in the wake of Bea’s death. “But yeah, we’re square once this is done.”

The truck that Adam piled their equipment into was a tough and utilitarian vehicle, its worn sides sporting plenty of nicks, dents, and few perforations with a suspicious resemblance to bullet holes. The Daemonic tome snarled in protest as Adam bound it back in blessed silver chains and chucked it back into the recesses of a military footlocker full of ‘deer’ hunting paraphernalia.

The path from the Outskirts to the beach was a long one, wandering through the caution zone after caution zone as they passed through the proximity of the high school, and the endless construction projects or rather ‘reconstruction’ projects that seemed a constant fixture in this town.

“How are you doing Luce,” Adam asked after a time, keeping his hands on the wheel and eyes on the road. “I don’t mean in the sexy exiled witch is always great sorta way.”

Under normal circumstances, Luce would have preferred to drive. But, the driver's seat of her Jeep was still covered in blood and she hadn’t found the time to get it cleaned. And besides, Adam’s truck probably had some useful hunter gear crammed in it. Riding shotgun, Luce kept her eyes trained on the landscape as it flew by them. She and Adam didn’t really talk under normal circumstances-- why would they? He was just some Hunter dude who was presumably doing shit to keep the town safe. Outside of the few times their lives intersected, she really didn’t feel the need to reach out to him. But, as they kept driving and the silence continued, it was eventually broken. Eyes still focused outside the window, she shrugged. “Oh you know,” Murdering a woman. Stabbing her with the same iron spear that had been taken from her attacker months ago. Lighting her corpse on fire and burning it to ash. “Just taking it one day at a time in this fucking town. You know how it is. What about you?” She asked, deflecting the question. She wasn’t interested in opening up to Adam Frat-Bro Walker of all people.

“Aw trying to figure out if I should stop killing people and just try and be a stable guy for your hot sister,” Adam said with the same brusque plainness with which he shared everything in life, though this afternoon of relationship choices and demonology had an uncharacteristic lack of sexual innuendo, perhaps showing things were truly dire without even a single dick reference. “Otherwise living the dream y’know?”

Pavement became gravel as they neared the shore, apartment blocks shrinking to beach houses and harbor piers. Traffic became sparser until the gravel paths became sand under the truck’s wheels and trees gave way to whispering beach grass. “Alright this is as close as we can drive,” Adam said, noting the sickly green-blue fog over the next dune.

Adam’s nonchalance, the easy way he talked about killing people--because that’s who they were, people-- it caught Luce off guard. “I mean, you shouldn’t do something just because you’re dating Nell.” She said, as though they were talking about something like kicking a smoking habit or eating clean. “That sort of thing should be like… because you want to. Or don’t want to, I guess.” Luce muttered, watching as the beach rolled up into view. “I get that.” She said though, not bothering to clarify which part of his words she agreed with. Adam didn’t need to know what she’d done, or the misgivings she was having about it. She could deal with that just fine without him. As they continued to drive, Luce could see that there was something wrong with the area just right off the bat. Nasty, discolored fog didn’t usually hang around the ocean. Slipping out of the truck, she led the way, a bundle of herbs in each hand. Balance. This was a small act, but hopefully it would bring her back to where she should be. Away from death and murder and delivering justice by her own hands. But was it really even justice?

Swallowing, Luce looked over at Adam. “So… you want me to just light it up? This shit, it won’t fight back, right?” She asked. Not that she couldn’t handle it if it did, she just wanted to know specifics before she let it on fire.

“Dunno honestly,” Adam admitted. “Pretty much everyone who's tried to study Knucklavee has died horribly and this info was taken from diabolists who wanted to summon one, not stop it.” However Adam was used to working around threats that were steeped in hearsay and had come prepared to deal with the factors he knew for certain. “But Mortasheen causes a sorta necrosis in anyone who breaths it, so we can’t risk it even at a distance”  

Adam vaulted into the back of the truck and began producing various military surplus accruements. “Eli sent these and says they’ll keep out pretty much anything,” Adam noted, trusting an older brother’s judgement as he handed down an Avon M50 gas mask, breathing canisters, and combat haz-suits designed to be used on battlefields were both bullets and chemical weapons were being employed.

Luce nodded, folding her arms over her chest as she regarded the hills that lay before them with increased trepidation. “Fun, fun. Good thing that fucker isn’t hanging around, huh?” She said as she scanned the area around them, just to make sure that the creature wasn’t lurking around. The last thing she wanted was another run in with some new terror that was literally plaguing the town. As he tossed her a pile of random ass military gear, Luce’s eyes shot up. She wanted to ask if this was a bit much, but the whole necrosis business sounded like serious shit. “You hunters really don’t fuck around.” She said as she eyed the haz-mat suit critically before stepping into the suit. She really didn’t like the idea of shoving herself into a giant sauna suit, but it was better than the alternative of breathing in literal lung-rotting fumes. Zipping it up over her clothes, Luce could already feel her natural body heat warming the suit to uncomfortable temperatures. If she got heat stroke from this fucking thing… “Who’s Eli? Some other hunter chilling in White Crest I don’t know about?”

Adam’s reply was distorted through the mask as he snapped on the last pressurized straps. “Eli’s one of my brothers and nah he’s stationed in the Middle East right now.” The Hunter did a quick inspection of his gear and Luce’s if she let him, keeping an eye out for any misalignments or gaps that could let toxins in. “Conflict zones tend to create lots of monsters from all the death, violence, fear and whannot,” he explained, referring perhaps to the many demons and undead that are literally born from bloodshed and psychic trauma. “But to Hunt in those conditions you gotta double down on gear.”

When Luce was ready Adam began the trudge towards the green-blue clouds of steam fog, boots leaving a line of impressions in the sand. The miasma soundlessly enveloped them in its own deathly silent world, blotting out the sun and sounds of the tide. The dunes were covered with a tainted greasy patina as the Mortasheen seemed to soak into the very ground itself. The desiccated corpses of poisoned fish and seagulls were barely recognizable husks squelching beneath Adam’s footsteps.

“A brother? I didn’t know you had siblings.” Luce said as she let him look over the straps and zippers-- for one thing, she doubted he was gonna objectify the fire witch sister of his demon summoning girlfriend. For another, she wasn’t about getting necrosis-ified just because she didn’t like the idea of a frat guy checking out her hazmat suit. As he explained why his brother was in the Middle East, Luce’s mind went to Remmy. They’d served in Afghanistan, been turned there. But, they weren’t a monster, not in the way that Adam was talking about things. They were just… a person. Someone who constantly had the world bearing down on them, forcing their hand. By that token, though, then Lydia--

Forcing that particular train of thought from her mind, Luce nodded. “Makes sense. Let’s roll.” She said and followed him out into the hazy sand dunes. The air was thick with rolling, sickly green fog that clung to the suit like grease. Her boot sunk into the rotting corpse of a seagull, the chest cavity offering no resistance as her foot came down. Shuddering, Luce was suddenly real fucking glad that Adam was kitted out like an apocalypse prepper. Because fuck, if this didn’t look like the goddamn apocalypse… “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.” She called out through the plastic and filters of the mask. “Be sure to save some of the classy joints for Nell.” She joked drily before turning to one of the large piles of seaweed that had amassed on the beach. “Light it up.” She muttered to herself, reaching into grasp the familiar magic that lived within her.

Her hands were outstretched, pointed at the seaweed. But nothing happened. The magic, the fire, the heat that lived within her… It remained stubbornly, willfully unmoved.

It took a minute or two before Adam looked back at Luce, eyes questioning behind the goggles of his gas mask. Adam’s knowledge of magic was generally limited to demonology and what magical critters had useful parts. Luce could’ve started doing the Macarena across the beach while ominously chanting Tik-Tok memes and Adam really wouldn’t have been the wiser.

But eventually even a muggle like Adam noticed that there was a distinct lack of burninating going on here.

“You alright Luce?” Adam asked, glad that the muffling of the suit helped disguise the tension in his voice. It was hard not to have a countdown in his head at the Knuclavee’s possible return. “If you need like matches or whatnot I can go grab em.”

Fire. The energy within her, magic, part of life itself-- “Fuck! What the fuck?” Luce swore as she tried to tap into the magic within her. She didn’t have the words to describe what it felt like, being unable to conjure her flame. From the time she was a child, fire had always leaped to her finger tips, a constant presence that lived inside her. It was always there, always waiting for her to let it run wild and free. And now… It was like a wall had been placed between her and the flames. Lowering her hands, she stared at her gloved fingers, wishing she could see her skin. Was there something wrong with her? Had Lydia placed some kind of final Fae curse on her, taking away the magic that had been used to wipe her from the face of the earth? “I’m fine! I’ve got this!” Luce snapped at Adam’s question, the sound of her fear dampened by the layers of plastic that separated the two of them. “I’ve got it, just, just give me a second!”

“Focus on your breathing, girls. Fire rises and falls, fed by the air we breathe.” Luce’s teeth grit as she remembered the words her mother had told her when she was a child. But, they were right. In, out. Calm and centered breathing, it would fuel her magic, give it what it needed to spark and grow. Holding her hand out once more, she reached out for the flames. In the tangle of seaweed, the barest hint of a smoldering spark appeared. It was nowhere near the inferno that they needed.

The truth was that Adam didn’t need just any old fire here. If that was all then he could’ve just gone at this place with a flamethrower and incendiaries. The Mortasheen had seeped into the land and some of his coworkers were rightly concerned about the possibility of a place so near town becoming permanently infused with demonic poison.

No, Adam needed something that was more than just fire. It would have to be a truly pure energy that was just as partially spiritual as the hellish miasma swirling around them both like a living thing.

Which is why all the ‘oh shit’ bells started going off in Adam’s head when Luce turned out to be more Zippo lighter than mighty she-dragon.

Aw shit ok, well Adam would’ve really preferred the all-consuming firey pillar right about now but he’d work with this.

“Alright, lets try and light the ones nearest the coast first,” said Adam as he tried to fan the seaweed flames and light some dry kindling he brought.

This was fucking pathetic. That was the biggest thought going through Luce’s mind as she watched Adam try to feed the fire oxygen and coax it to life with kindling. She was a goddamn fire witch! This was her element, this was her magic, this was all she had! She should be better than this! Rage boiled within her and she tried to channel it through her the way she always had. It had always felt like a roaring fire that built within her until it spilled over into the world, a mass of flames that consumed all within their paths. “I’ve fucking got this!” Luce yelled, the words coming out in a strangled growl as she strained. Fire, real, billowing torrents of flame emerged from her hands. But, the blue flames were sputtering, biting, and flickering in ways they never had for her before. Her fire had always been steady and obeyed her command. Now, though? They fought her at every turn, as though they were trying to be extinguished. “C’mon, c’mon, come ON!” She yelled and directed the sluggish lines of blue flame that consumed the seaweed beneath them.

It had seemed to be the illumination of a distant lighthouse far beyond the harbor at first, a sickly green light that seemed both distant yet somehow burned so intensely that Adam could see it even through thick obscuring clouds of Mortasheen. The Hunter occasionally glimpsed the distant light through the poisoned fog, but initially pushed it from his mind, focusing on trying to get wood lit and carry the feeble blue fire to other clumps of seaweed along the shore. The Mortasheen around the sapphire witchfire did seem to be burning away, the corroded grease stains boiling off the sand in a way that looked promising. But it was like candles in a coal mine, and steaming fog backs of putrefaction were still roiling around them in waves thick enough to block the sun….but not that green light weirdly enough.

But eventually that light drew close enough to become two sets of burning eyes approaching through the far-off water, set just above each other in a vague silhouette that brought to mind a horse and rider.

“Fuck fu--,” Adam’s ensuing steam of profanity almost broke the sound barrier before he managed to get a hold on his thoughts. “Hey Lucinda!” Yup screw it, this was full name time. “We’ve got company! Shit needs to burn!” .

Why the fuck was this happening? What even was going-- Luce’s head whipped violently around and she stared at Adam. “LUCINDA?” She yelled, the fire around her leaping up into a massive wall of flame. “You did not just “Lucinda” me, you shitty fucking dickhole!” She shouted, the hazmat suit doing little to muffle the sheer outrage in her voice. The seaweed around them crackled and withered away under the heat of the blue flames that were finally behaving like she’d wanted them to. With wave of her hand, the all consuming heat rushed forward, charring the sand as it burned away at the toxic mass that covered the beach. “Fucking Lucinda.” She muttered, not paying attention to the figure in the distance that had Adam on edge. Of course, she was the one with the shitty fairy godmother sounding name. Beatrice and Penelope sucked too, but fucking Lucinda? Fuck. Their. Mother.

Her rage fueled the flames and as they continued to burn, Luce pulled out several of the herb bundles she’d brought and chucked them at Adam. “Burn these.” She grunted shortly before lighting the remaining ones herself.

Adam was doubly grateful for the protective layers of the tactical environment suit as blue witchfire consumed the Mortasheen. Clouds of demonic miasma ignited in mushrooming chain reactions until it felt like Adam felt was in the middle of a napalm bombing. Sickly green and aquamarine vapors yielded to waves of shining flame whose sapphire incandescence grew so intense that the Hunter had to shield his eyes even with goggles’ light filters.

The putrescent film that coated the beach’s sand and rocks boiled up in the supernatural inferno. Adam stepped away from the noxious tarry masses that’d seeped up beneath his boots like toxins being sweated out. Remembering Luce’s instructions, Adam began scattering the herbs in the larger conflagrations, discoloring the flames with occasional tinges of violet and gold as the purifying steam began to circulate through the superheated currents swirling across the beach.

Adam looked to see that two sets of smoldering demonic eyes had halted in their approach through the water. The shore was now lined with blue bonfires of burning seaweed, rising into the clearing sky like the bars of an intangible gate slamming shut. The Hunter tensed as the dark shadow of the immense aquatic centaur-thing brooded the water, hoping that the translations upon translations within journals and scrolls hadn’t distorted some crucial piece of information that was about to get them both butchered.

The eyes winked out as quickly as they’d appeared and the equine shadow abruptly gone, leaving Adam nervously scanning the horizon for a few breathless minutes before he finally let himself exhale in relief.

“Luce you did it,” Adam hollered through the mask’s distortion, holding two gloved thumbs up. “Your fucking legend! It’s gone!”

Her magic was back, but as her anger began to recede, it took every ounce of Luce’s concentration to maintain the fire until the beach was wiped clean. The herbs helped dispel the sickly mist that shrouded the beach, doing most of the dirty work for them while her flames took care of the source of their troubles. She was glad that it was working, glad that she could do something… good, that would help the town. But, the thoughts and worries creeped in the back of her mind as she herded the flames around, fighting for control. Why was this happening? What was going on with her magic? She’d felt weak ever since that day, the fucking day she’d helped Winston and Athena wipe Lydia from the face of the earth. But, she hadn’t thought it would affect her magic.

Letting the last of the flames sputter out in the remains of crackling seaweed, Luce looked over to Adam, who was giving her a big thumbs up. Turning to the skyline, she glanced out and saw nothing but the ocean and the moon shining brightly down upon the scene. The Knucklefuck must have figured out it wasn’t going to find an easy town to plague. Good for it. Walking back to Adam, Luce pulled off her mask and chucked it at him, with a bit more force than necessary. “If I hear you call me Lucinda ever again...” Luce let the words hang in the air before smacking him lightly on the shoulder. “Come on. We have drinks at the house. We should celebrate saving this place from its latest brush with hell.”

[maverick-werewolf]

Wulfgard: The Hunt Never Ends - Pre-order Link & Preview

Interior illustration for Wulfgard: The Hunt Never Ends, drawn by Justin RR Stebbins

More promised previews - as well as a preview of an interior illustration of Caiden wrestling with a werebear! You can find a lot more werebear action (and berserker lore for my setting) in the previews below, please be sure to check them out!

For more info on the book itself, you can also check out this post. Also be sure to check out the Hunt Never Ends tag for a whole lot more book previews!

And now in very important news... Wulfgard: The Hunt Never Ends is available for preorder on Amazon.com!

Pre-Order Link

Please note that, while the ebook is now available for preorder, Wulfgard: The Hunt Never Ends will also be available in paperback on October 30 from the same Amazon listing! Paperbacks cannot be preordered using Amazon’s system, however.

Be sure to check back October 30 for the physical (paperback) edition!

In the third section of the book, Caiden and Gwen hunt for a mysterious berserker whom the locals claim is causing trouble... and, for the first time, Caiden truly sees how hard it is to draw the line between man and monster.

If you’re interested in purchasing the book digitally, you can now pre-order it right here and have it immediately on October 30!

(Paperback edition will be available on Amazon on October 30)

------------

“Thoughts?” she asked.

Caiden threw her a quick look. “We check the forest north of here, the direction he was heading. By now, maybe he’s calmed down some, even if he hasn’t turned back.”

‘Turned back.’ It was insane. Humans weren’t meant to turn into anything else, and neither was any other creature. The curses and magic he’d learned about since joining the Venatori, even not being able to read… He still couldn’t imagine a man turning into something he wasn’t.

No way he could imagine what that actually sounded like, what that drunk had to have heard – or what it looked like, for that matter. What it actually involved. It defied all nature, all sense, or at least any he’d known for his entire life.

They left their horses in town, setting off on foot to track the monster. As Caiden pulled his crossbow from his back and loaded it, Gwen nocked an arrow to her bow and spoke.

“So what do we know about berserkers – we know they bond their souls somehow to some kind of magical skins they wear, and this gives them special powers. Usually they bond with wolves, but they say that’s also the most dangerous, so some of them bond with other animals like bears instead. Because if they take it too far, they can lose control and lose themselves, turning into monsters.”

Caiden nodded. “Do we know for sure if they ever turn back?”

“There were at least two cases where they did that I read in some old accounts, but I don’t know how accurate they were.”

Tracking the berserker was easy, like Caiden figured. The monster had carved a swath of maddened destruction leading away from the city, toward the forest. He’d barreled over saplings, charged through streams, knocking aside underbrush and stones as he drove ever deeper into the wilderness.

Then, the tracks stopped.

There, sitting with his back against a tree trunk, was a man clad in little more than a few tattered clothes and furs that barely kept him decent. Every inch of him was made of tattooed muscle, scars, and some fresh bloodstains. A ragged grey beard covered half his face and reached down to his chest, full of unkempt remains of braids…

But he wore no animal skin.

What he did wear was not physical: a palpable cloak of regret. A pain so deep Caiden almost felt inclined to regret along with him as he drew near, the berserker’s emotions filling the air like a cloud of dreary, remorseful rain.

“I won’t fight,” the berserker said at once, showing empty hands and fingers stained with blood. “Show me mercy – I won’t fight.”

Gwen stood a few feet away, bow at the ready again, watching them. Caiden narrowed his eyes at him.

Slowly, the berserker stood, keeping his hands in plain view. Gwen swore under her breath, just loud enough for Caiden to hear. Even if he couldn’t match up to Caiden’s height, that didn’t make him small.

“I never meant to do what I did,” the berserker said slowly, his deep green eyes flicking between the two of them. “Whatever it was that I did.”

“You don’t remember?” Gwen asked.

“I remember some Imperials gathering around me and throwing insults…”

Caiden could hardly focus on the berserker’s words for the emotions churning in the air. Worry, even fear, and some strange anger that seemed to lurk like a monster waiting to spring. But there was a weariness, too. Something old and tired that yearned for only one thing: peace.

And always that remorse. Like someone who’d taken a life out of necessity, not desire – like a soldier in his legion who’d killed a man in self-defense. He’d felt this regret before, this guilt.

But monsters, supposedly, didn’t have remorse.

Caiden blinked, scowled harder against the sensations, and locked his eyes firmer onto the berserker before him.

“I fought for control, but… I am old. My skin took me years ago. I can fight it, but when pressed, it will always win in the end.”

“Yet,” said Gwen, “you came into an Imperial settlement knowing perfectly well you might lose control and kill innocent people there.”

Caiden glanced at her. Gwen kept her bow trained, ready to loose, a fire and distrust in her tone not quite like any he’d heard from her before. Still the berserker didn’t move, maintaining his calm, despite a sorrow in him that deepened to the point of leaving a lead weight setting heavy in Caiden’s stomach.

“Yes,” the berserker said, quieter now. “I was traveling – tired and hungry, in need of only shelter and nourishment.”

“None of that,” Gwen answered firmly, “excuses what you did.”

The berserker’s voice lifted, defensive, and pride came to grapple with his fear. “I am Gundahar of the Frost Raven clan, once a respected warrior. This is the first time I’ve ever harmed another with this curse – do not accuse me of not being careful. I know what I am and what the beast will do.” Wearing a scowl, he let his hands drop at last. “I only wanted a drink.”

Gwen glanced at him. Caiden glanced back.

And he lowered his crossbow.

“Caiden?” she said, perhaps a little stunned, the grip on her bow tightening in a way Caiden didn’t much like.

“Easy, Gwen,” he said, extending a hand toward her, lowering it, motioning for her to back off. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

She wasn’t having it, and she didn’t lower her bow. “Monsters hide in good men. The Venatori have taught it for eons – once someone is cursed, they can’t be trusted.”

Cursed. There was that word again, one he’d heard so often in this order of monster hunters. It meant so many different things, and every time he heard it, he wondered if there was some dark corner of that word reserved for him.

“Maybe not,” he said, stepping nearer to her and looking her in the eye. “If that turns out to be the case, I’ll shoulder the blame. But I’m asking you to lower your weapon.”

Gundahar neither moved nor spoke. He stood there watching with a dark look of jaded weariness etched across his features. Caiden couldn’t help but feel he’d seen a look disturbingly similar in one of the mirrors in Castle Greywatch.

At length, Gwen nodded. She lowered her bow, straightening herself and taking a deep breath, saying only, “I hope you’re right.”

Caiden nodded back. He returned his attention to Gundahar, but the berserker to speak first.

“I am sorry, truly, for what happened… Though perhaps your Imperial youths could use more lessons in how to stay their tongues. I came here peacefully, did nothing wrong, and they ridiculed me. Insulted me. Accused me of witchcraft and devilry – they didn’t know the holy powers of Odin they slandered with their words…”

His voice drifted. The pride faded away again, dissipating, pushed aside by the resurgence of guilt. Caiden’s near-eternal scowl almost softened around the edges. Almost.

“Tell us what happened,” he prompted.

(Werebear action under the cut!)

------------

Down in the lamplit streets, a mob surged furiously around their quarry, torches aloft and voices raised. From here, Caiden couldn’t make out much, but he didn’t have to make any guesses to know what was happening.

Turning, he threw his crossbow over his shoulder, grabbed his harness covered in weapons and potions, and pulled it on over only his shirt while he burst through the door to his room and stormed down the stairs. No time for his armor or the rest of his gear.

Not far from the inn doors, where the innkeeper and his daughter stood watching in horror, Caiden found exactly what he’d feared.

In the center of that mob they dragged Gundahar along by a rope around his neck. He struggled, clawing at it, getting to his feet to stand tall around most of the civilians around him. The instant he did, several rushed forward, brandishing cudgels to beat over his arms and legs, trying to force him back down.

Gwen, groggy and confused, appeared at his side with her weapons in hand.

“Dammit,” Caiden growled.

Charging forward, he shouldered his way straight into the mob with Gwen following in the wake he cleared. They parted around him like water against a stone.

He glanced at her and said, “Talk them down or distract them. I’m going after the berserker.”

She nodded.

Each step he took toward Gundahar, the air seemed to grow thicker. Stuffier. Harder to breathe, full of a desperate fear, a wild need to escape. He felt like he walked toward a cornered animal, one tired and scared – but not wanting to hurt anyone.

They reached the center, where Caiden grabbed one shoulder of a man with his club raised over the fallen Gundahar and shoved him aside hard enough to send him staggering away, teetering awkwardly like a drunk. Judging by the smell, he probably was. As was half the mob.

Somewhere behind him, Gwen tried to raise her voice over the din of confusion, anger, and accusations. Telling them to calm down, that this was their job, to go back home…

Caiden barely listened. He’d trust her with that. With the talking. She liked doing it, after all, and he’d be damned if he had words for these idiots. Not with how he felt something in Gundahar that wanted to snap. He couldn’t let that happen.

Kneeling, he put a heavy hand on Gundahar’s shoulder as he half lay in the street, bruised and bleeding. He’d fallen silent. Gone were all the hoarse yells and pleas and him trying to explain. Spent. There weren’t any words left in him, only ragged, sharp breaths and a hard twitch of the muscles in his neck. The instant Caiden touched him, something almost seemed to lash out – something with claws, and something very intent to kill.

Caiden gripped his shoulder anyway, prompting Gundahar to look up at him. He blinked, locking gazes, sending Caiden almost more pain and remorse than he knew what to do with.

“Gundahar,” he said, “breathe. Focus. Get on your feet – I’m taking you out of here.”

“N-no— no, Venator—” he gasped. “Too late— please—”

Whatever else he might have said died on his lips, fell to a look of resignation that passed over his features in a blink. Caiden knew it was over then, even before Gundahar’s jaw set and frigid determination rushed from him, like a gale from the North.

Gundahar surged to his feet, and with one swipe made of inhuman strength, slammed his arm across Caiden’s head powerful enough to send even him sprawling into the street, skull cracking hard against the cobblestones.

Whatever happened next, Caiden didn’t see it. Didn’t much hear it, either, for the ringing in his ears. Screaming, ripping, popping – strange sounds rippling like water swam through his head as if they were ten leagues away and drowned.

This was new. All of it. The wash of cold, biting down deep, right to the bone, and the fury. It was like nothing he’d felt before, a high-pitched scream tearing on around him, and into him, settling like it wished to stay. Wished for him to scream along with it, to give in to the anger. He almost didn’t even realize that screams – even worse, distorted, full of more pain than he and all his experience could even imagine – were also very real, filling the air around him.

And when Caiden scrambled to his feet again, his head pounding from where he’d knocked it against the ground, Gundahar was already gone.

A monster stood in his place.

Caiden stared straight down a wrinkled muzzle, lips already starting to drip strands of white froth. The thing before him looked like the largest bear he’d ever seen. Massive, hulking, covered in brown, grizzled fur and twitching muscles the size of which no man could ever achieve. Yet its shape looked almost human, with arms, and great hands bearing fingers that ended in long, hooked claws.

No recognition stirred in the green eyes like he’d seen on the man wearing this monster’s skin – or the man skin the monster wore. Maybe Gwen had been right.

Because when the bear-monster turned, it opened its wide, toothy maw and lifted a hand-paw the size of Caiden’s entire head, ready to bring it down on the nearest fleeing civilian.

This was their fault – the civilians.

But right now, that wasn’t important. All that mattered was stopping it.

[aglimmerintheriver]

How to mentally keep baneful spirits out - no tools required AKA How Not To Give A F*** About the Uninvited

You can find so much info on here and throughout the web about negative entities and protecting yourself from them. Just as there is so much info, there are all of these different perspectives on how our energies associate with them. In this post I hope to cover a lot of different perspectives, as well as some creative methods for dealing with baneful spirits and your own defense magic tool set.

Introduction

A lot of mythical creatures are based in energetic truth- the vampire is aligned with the energy vampire, the evil and feared witch (like in the Witch movie) is aligned with the early-Christian understanding of the Wise People. The word Witch came from Wic, which means ‘Wisdom’ in Germanic languages. Think of anything given malevolent or benevolent power in the media, and you can likely tie it to misconceptions about the witchcraft and pagan community.

In Shonda Rhimes’ “Grey’s Anatomy” there is an episode where Dr. Miranda Bailey talks about how her OCD creates negative, scary fears within the mind that feel so real that they become real, but she also says that if her mind can think up and believe in these terrible, scary things, she can also think up positive things that make her feel better about those fears- things that help create a buffer, to save her from being so afraid. I’m completely blanking on which episode this was, if you know please let me know and I’ll add it in. By bringing this up, I want to point to something that inspired me to write this post: that elasticity of our perception and of the power we hold within ourselves being dependent on our awareness of our power.

All of this to say that this is not a post created for someone experiencing demonic intrusion. I may or may not have experienced this kind of interaction and if I have, I was simply saved by calling on Jesus (holy freaking heck did not expect the Christian god to help me out but he did) and asking that he save my soul from the attack. If you are under demonic attack or believe that you are, please consult a shaman or a witch who knows how to deal with demonic power. My understanding of demons is that they were the very first spirits here, and so they are the oldest of the old and have a lot of power. That’s not to say your power stands no chance against them, but if you feel overwhelmed by the spirits you’re facing, a lot of the times it is helpful not just for our spiritual protection but also for our perception of how safe we are to call on someone outside of us for help- whether that be a deity or other type of spirit we revere as having badass protective strength or another human we believe can help protect us/banish whatever’s in your sphere.

Perception and Reality

What we believe is what we see. Another way to phrase this is, ‘Where the mind goes, your energy flows”, a very famous phrase within the spiritual community (I believe it has Buddhist origins but not sure of who said it first). This is why a lot of witches are recommended to meet with a therapist or psychologist regularly to ensure our mental health is strong. A lot of people within our community believe that mental health creates spiritual gaps wherein baneful spirits can creep in and target us, but others believe that the cause of mental problems is our spiritual health itself. I’m in the camp of believing mental health is important no matter how you see the correlation- taking care of your brain is just as important as keeping up with the rest of your practice. 

Another aspect of protection and magic is not just ‘what we see’ but how. To bring in a little cognitive function theory, someone with extroverted intuition (or Ne) would likely see a situation and the world from twenty or more different lenses. This is like viewing the world through a multi-faceted crystal and being able to look at all these different crystal-edges and see a different distortion. And that’s really what our view is mostly, because it is nearly impossible to go around living your life and be able to see everything EXACTLY as it is. It’s just not reasonable to think you’re going to be able to have a clear lens every time. If you do and if you’ve developed that, please share how you did and help me figure that out haha, but until then I’m going to work with my understanding that our perception is going to have some type of illusion to it.

And here comes what this post has been leading to- the thing I’m excited about. The Imagining, and the power in that imagining. This is mental craft.

The You-Shaped Perception

In focus meditation you’re told that attention to the breath or to one sensation is important, because you’re narrowing your cannon-sized attention to the size of a pinhole. In much the same way, mental magic is about not just changing your lens, but also how you use that lens.

You       can.         do.            Anything.

It’s true. I mean, within physical means, right? You’re only going to fly if you know how to build mechanical wings, so this isn’t some offhanded promise meant halfheartedly. Nope, I mean this with all of me.

The mind is our friend and our enemy. I’m not even a big fan of meditation and yet I know that. It’s that changeable lens we see things through and how we think of them.

Our mind, my friend, is our power.

In speaking of the mind, I am not just thinking about your brain matter, or your reason, or whatever. I’m talking intention (leading to manifestation) and conscious attention to changing our thoughts.

Think something long enough and you start to believe it. Don’t like your thoughts, or how you feel? What thought or visualization would help you feel better?

There are rabbit holes we fall into where we either can’t control our thoughts and feelings due to mental illness and other times when we just don’t want to control them. Sometimes it feels good to be swept away by our own ocean of emotion and madness. It’s part of being human. The former situation (with the rabbit holes) is likely to be helped by a mental health professional and possibly some anti-depressants. The latter can  a p p a r e n t l y  be helped by meditation. 

(Also, did you know that meditation helps grow the gray matter in your brain? Sitting down and just watching your thoughts pass like clouds, allowing your body to rest, opens you up to expanded compassion, self awareness, contemplation, and helps your memory. If anyone is interested in practicing this, I’m going to be working through this free online MBSR/Mindfulness course in the hopes of helping my depression and my powers of intention- it looks like a great resource especially during this time of political and global tension. I believe our souls are deeply connected to one another and also to the overall soul of the world. Everything that happens in it is something we collectively experience and all of the stress along with this social isolation that the majority of us are experiencing is incredibly traumatizing. I highly recommend checking this out and seeing how it affects you over a few weeks’ time: https://palousemindfulness.com/ )

The point I’m trying to make here is that 98 times out of 100 times, YOU control your perception. And that’s a very empowering and creative thing. Especially when you identify as a witch 😄

gif of Joaquin Phoenix as the joker with a smiling mask on, then pulling up the mask and grinning.

DAMN TABITHA JUST GET TO THE POINT ALREADY

Okay okay. Here’s my point.

You can use creativity in your craft. You know this already. But you don’t need a book of spells (they’re fun to read though) and you don’t need the latest books on psychic magic. You can seriously just use your magical brain.

Intention is everything. Your natural intuitive powers are where your strength lies- I’d say it’s the key to unlocking whatever the heck you want in life. 

Look at your life like it is a children’s story book or movie, alright? It sounds stupid but please stay with me if you made it this far, because I think this is where it gets good. You know how the main character faced this seemingly impossible task or challenge, and they didn’t know how they’d do it but they did it anyway? Things just worked out for them, either because they did some work to help meet their goal and they fought to believe in themselves, or because the writer(s) wanted to throw them some tools that would help them easily get their goal.

You’re the main character and you’re the author of your story. And not only are you the author, but you’ve got all these spirits helping you co-author what unfolds in your life. So it doesn’t matter if there’s a damn fire-breathing knife-throwing monster standing on top of you while you sleep because in your witch brain, all you need to do is say “I am stronger than you will ever be. I am the apex predator” and watch that nasty bugger fucking deflate.

What is the most empowering thing is realizing that you are worth fearing, yourself.

Now this isn’t an excuse to take on a bad-bitch persona and mess your life up. Don’t go around hexing people willy nilly, please. Don’t think you can conjure a demon and be able to control it.

Just know that you can control yourself and the space you’re in. Cause you a badass, bitch.

An actual example from my real life

I have a little known disorder called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Essentially it’s scary AF because I have dislocations on the daily and they’re painful and honestly, it’s the bane of my existence. 

That’s not even exaggerating haha.

So along with it comes a lot of second guessing self worth, because of how it’s perceived and how I’m perceived because I’m a lady with EDS. The questions I’ve fielded, the conversations I’ve had, the experiences I’ve had to deal with as a result of it are utterly ridiculous (sometimes, downright despicable). 

One day I was talking to my therapist about self-perception and not feeling strong enough to face life with my handicap, and she asked me to point out the strengths it’s encouraged in me. I was able to point to a few things and while I did, I could see Brigid beside me and this oak shield forming around my body, and I imagined that every word I spoke, every good quality I have grown from having my disorder, made that shield stronger.

There are the times when I rabbit hole and I forget what that armor means and looks like. I forget that it’s there. But inevitably, something happens that would normally feel like it was undermining me and instead, I remember that oak shield and Brigid’s protective, loving energy, and I remember how expansive it feels to see myself as being worth this life and as having valuable traits to offer to the world. That’s when I see that shield again.

As you can see this isn’t only for spirits, but it applies even in those situations too. I’ll detail my channeling session that ended with calling on Jesus another time haha as this is getting quite long. To wrap this up:

TL;DR: “How not to give a f*** about unwanted spirits”

- Decide not to give a f***

- Decide what you will give a f*** about

- Find a couple practices for protection that you like and stick with them

- Know what clairs you have that are strongest (and if none feel that strong right now, that’s perfectly normal. Don’t put pressure on yourself, just enjoy exploring how your intuition works and pay attention without obsessing (or try not to obsess anyways). You have time to experiment with intuition, I’ll try to find some good sources for this and write something for those of you frustrated with figuring out where your skills lie or how to use them.

- Know that they’re working, that you’re a freaking badass witch, and that nothing can come into your space without earning your wrath (which can just be a GTFO and a call on your fave deity if you like)

A lot of the time, spirits who show up don’t actually have any dominion to stay. You have the power. You own the space, you own YOUR space (the space of your body). So own that you own it and do it with certainty. Feel the POWAH haha.

Sources mentioned:

https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2011/01/eight-weeks-to-a-better-brain/

[sonicrainicorn]

Made of Love, Chapter 21

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Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: Virgil is getting really tired of the universe causing problems.

TW: Cursing, alcohol, death mention

Prefer to read it on Ao3? Click here!

“Joan says they have no idea who gave them the info,” Thomas sighed as he plopped down in his seat.

He, Virgil, Roman, and Patton were in the living room trying to solve their big mystery. Logan was still clocked out in the bedroom. His earlier incident didn’t quite ease up as well as the previous ones.

“They never met each other. It was just a written message.”

“Where did the message come from?” Patton asked. “Are they okay? Does Altair know where they are?”

"I don't know. Someone from Talyn's old clan said it was waiting there for them. But Talyn hasn't been there in years." Thomas frowned down at his phone. "Maybe his info is outdated?"

Patton fidgeted with his hands. "I don't know. I'd still be cautious."

"Yeah. They're both keeping their eyes out."

They had no idea what else to do. Without a doubt, Altair created this Figment specifically for them. It was someone Patton and Logan recognized and knew well, while the others have always been Magi they’ve never seen before. It boiled down to three major issues: how did Altair know about Arlene? Who sent them after her? And how did he create such a powerful Figment?

They didn’t have answers for the first two. But Patton figured out the third one.

Figments take up a lot of power and magic. They are a soul forced to recreate their former body without the magic that once held them together. Of course some things are going to be a little off because of that; an essential part of them was missing. But if there’s enough power, then less of them would be missing. Arlene was able to exist as herself because her soul and magic were able to come together almost to completion. There was enough power to put them together. Altair had enough power to put them together. Unfortunately, there was one way he would have gained that jump of strength. Logan’s magic.

There were many, many reasons to why that sucked, and Virgil didn’t want to focus on any of them. He knew plenty of them front and back already. They never left his thoughts since the moment he saw his timeline.

The more magic Logan lost, the more of it went to Altair. If he was able to get all of it, he would be able to get it completely under his control. And if it ever got to that point, there wouldn’t be any more Logan. That would lead to all kinds of bad things.

It couldn’t ever get there.

“What are we supposed to do, then?” Roman asked. “We don’t have anything to go off of, we don’t know where Altair is now -- it’s like we’re back at square one. We just keep getting pushed farther back anytime we make progress.”

“We can’t exactly stop making progress,” Patton said. “Even if we have nowhere to go, we can’t let that be the end. There’s too much at stake.”

Virgil frowned at the coffee table.

“But we have even less time than before,” Thomas replied. “You said it yourself, Logan’s running out of magic. He can’t wait around for Altair to just show up. It took us forever to even get an idea of where he was the first time. How are we supposed to find him now?”

“I…” Patton floundered. Virgil felt a flash of panic -- desperation that was not his own -- enough to make his heart drop before disappearing. Patton clasped his hands together. “I don’t know. I have no idea what to do.”

Neither did anyone else.

Did Virgil accidentally take a nap that wasted most of the day after that? That wasn’t anything you could prove. The answer was yes, though. Yes, he did. It was a complete accident. He decided to go to his room to think about stuff then all of a sudden he was waking up. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it), he had a closing shift today. That meant he got to go into work a bit later.

But since he woke up feeling like trash, he decided to stay in bed until the time came to get ready. The first thing he did after was march straight into Roman’s room.

“Ro --” The rest of his name broke off.

Roman sat at his little desk. Fast asleep. His head rested on his folded arms with his laptop on and right in front of him. It displayed a picture opened up in editing software. The picture wasn’t complete yet, but it seemed to have gone through a lengthy process already. Without hesitating, Virgil crept forward and saved the file. Just in case.

He decided to let Roman get the extra sleep. It was obvious he needed it.

So Virgil wandered into the living room to recruit someone else. Patton, Logan, and Thomas were all there. The TV was on, but Patton was the only one watching. Logan sat beside him with his legs pulled up, focusing on his notebook. Thomas was on the floor with a new painting in front of him.

“Roman’s knocked out so I need someone to come to work with me.” He shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets.

“I volunteer,” Thomas muttered from around a paintbrush. He didn’t lift his eyes from the canvas as he used a different sized brush.

“No.” He turned to the other two. “Patton? Logan?”

Logan lifted his head. “What?

Patton smirked and shook his head. “I’ll go with you, Virgil.”

Virgil grabbed Roman’s keys and they were on their way.

When they got there, the bar wasn't very crowded. With it being the middle of the week, only the usuals showed up. Which was fine with Virgil. He knew almost all of them by name and knew they wouldn't be a bother. Half of them didn't even drink -- they just liked to hang out. It led to Virgil conducting a bit of an experiment.

Patton threw back another shot and set the glass down on the counter with the nine others. Virgil waited in anticipation.

“Yeah, I feel nothing.”

Now that just wasn’t fair. “How the hell…?” Virgil examined the shot glasses as if that would somehow provide answers. “I’m -- what witchcraft are you doing and how can I get in on it?”

Patton laughed. “Unless you somehow get healing magic, I don’t think I can help you.” He put his head in his hand. “And for once, it’s less witchcraft, more science.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, alcohol is basically a poison, right? And I have a fast healing body. So poison, plus extra-good liver, equals no effect.” He smiled.

“I’m jealous.” Freaking real-life Captain America here. “How much of that passes on to Picani?”

“Almost none of it, actually.” Patton used his free hand to move a shot glass over to him with a finger. “So Picani can totally get drunk.” He paused. “Don’t ask me how I know that.”

Virgil smirked. As he collected the other shot glasses, someone ran up to the counter and took the empty seat by Patton.

“Virgil. I’ve been thinking about that contract thing you mentioned and I might’ve finally figured it out.” The Theorist’s string of words staggered to a halt when he caught sight of Patton. “You’re… not the one that usually sits there.” He looked almost on guard. “Where’s Roman?”

“Couldn’t make it.” Patton studied him a bit suspiciously.

A gut feeling told Virgil to intervene. “Uh, Patton, this is the Theorist. He’s the one that tried to help us.”

“But led us right into a trap.” Patton’s suspicious gaze didn’t waver.

The Theorist shifted a bit. “Look, I told Virgil this before, but the future isn’t so clear cut all the time. It was a chance.”

“Maybe next time you should consider all possibilities before endangering people,” he lifted his glasses, his brown eyes swirled into that bright blue, “or there’s a chance you might have a big problem on your hands.”

The Theorist almost knocked down the stool in his attempt to scramble away fast enough. He sputtered, pointing a finger at Patton as he put distance between them. “Y-you’re a -- a --”

Patton dropped his glasses in place. He seemed a bit satisfied with the reaction.

Virgil didn’t understand.

“You’re a Machai elf.” He looked horrified at just saying the name. “Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with a Machai elf?” He leaned over the bar to hiss at Virgil.

“You never asked,” was Virgil’s automatic response. “What’s the big deal? I thought you saw my timeline.”

“I saw glimpses I didn’t pick out any details.” He eyed Patton worriedly.

Fair enough. “Well, why does Patton being a Machai elf or whatever make any difference?” He continued his clean up of the shot glasses.

The Theorist gawked at him like he was an idiot. “Do you have any idea what a Machai elf is?” He continued to be flabbergasted after receiving a deadpan expression from Virgil. “Machai elves are some of the deadliest creatures of the magic world. They’re ruthless and intimidating. They don’t back down from a fight and they're trained to kill from birth. They're one of the most notorious elf tribes, how can you not know this?"

Virgil shrugged.

"Ugh, humans. You never bother to ask important questions." He sent another weary glance Patton's way. "I've never heard of one straying away from the tribe, though. Are you the only one?"

Patton scowled. "We're not going to get into that."

The Theorist shut his mouth.

Holy shit. Talk about impressive. "So what's the reason you're here? Other than being afraid of puffball Patton over there."

The Theorist's face twisted at 'puffball' but continued regardless. "Well between your anger issues and his ability to rip out my spine like a Mortal Kombat finisher, I don't know how eager I am to say anything anymore."

"Oh, come on," Patton said, voice dripping with faux sweetness. "I'm not going to rip out your spine. There are less messy ways of getting rid of you."

"Patton." Virgil couldn't believe he had to use a parent voice on Patton of all people.

"I'm kidding. A bit."

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Ignore him." He turned all his attention to the Theorist. "He honestly isn't going to do anything to you. Patton's one of the nicest people I know."

The Theorist didn't seem too sure about that.

“If it makes you feel any better, I learned my lesson from last time. I won’t be trying to stab you again anytime soon.”

Patton stared at him in disbelief. “You what?”

“Fine.” The Theorist took a seat but made sure there was enough space between him and Patton. “But the minute any of that changes, I’m running right out of here.”

Virgil rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Just get on with it.”

“So the contract. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since you rather rudely accused me of making it --” he sent a look that Virgil ignored -- “and I managed to narrow it down to a few things. The word ‘contract’ is actually important here. You called it a contract. You didn’t say deal or bargain, you said contract. That helps a lot. It eliminates several creatures like imps and faeries -- which leaves us with things that are capable of creating contracts. That’s obviously the more human things like witches, but it’s also less human things. Things like demons, shadowlings, boogeymen --”

“Boogeyman.” Virgil didn’t hesitate. “It was a boogeyman.”

The Theorist faltered for a moment. “Okay. That makes things a bit more complicated.” He tapped his fingers against the countertop. “Boogeymen are difficult creatures, and every culture has its own interpretation for what they do. Sometimes they’re even considered demons.” His fingers stopped. “But they all have one thing in common. They prey on fear -- they can create it. Depending on the variation, they can even manifest that fear and take it with them.”

“But why?” Patton asked with full sincerity. “Why would -- what does this have to do with a contract?”

“He didn’t want to be there,” Virgil explained. “He said he was bound by a contract.”

“And that wasn’t a figure of speech,” The Theorist continued. “To make a contract with a boogeyman is to literally bind them to you. It makes the contract a million times more effective because the boogeyman won’t be freed unless they complete it. And if you’re going to try to get rid of someone -- and you’re insane enough -- why not make a contract with a boogeyman? I mean, at their core, boogeymen are basically ideas.”

Virgil’s throat closed up. “It’s impossible to kill an idea.” He didn’t die. He didn’t die. He didn’t die. He didn’t die.

“Or at least, the manifestation of an idea is very hard to get rid of. And I think we might all know of someone who’s willing to literally bind a malevolent creature to do his dirty work.” The Theorist stirred a bit in his seat. “And for once, that’s not a theory.”

Patton frowned.

“What would Altair need fears for?” He got away. Virgil let him get away. He fucking let Anxiety complete his contract.

"Just think about it. If you're after someone, you'd want to use their greatest weakness against them. What if you knew what that was? What if you knew what could bring them to their knees -- something they wouldn't win against? Something that strikes them down to their very core? That would be useful, wouldn't it?"

A bit too useful.

The Theorist noticed the expressions on both men’s faces and cleared his throat. “Uh, do with that information as you wish. Unless you need something else, I’m going to get out of here.” He prepared to stand up.

Something switched in Virgil’s brain. “Hypothetically --” he made sure not to look at Patton -- “if someone who wasn’t meant to see into time, uh, happened to see into time, how long would side effects last? If any.”

“Hypothetically --” the Theorist glanced between Patton and Virgil, somehow seeming to put the pieces together -- “that’s an unknown factor. Seers don’t usually force that ability onto someone as it usually results in, uh, bad things. Like losing your mind type of bad things.” Comforting. “But if I had to guess, if someone was capable of handling it, they might get vivid visions of whatever timeline they saw lasting between a few days to a couple of weeks. Though, once again, there’s not much information on it.”

“Alright. That’s an interesting concept.”

“I’d say so,” Patton muttered as he eyed Virgil. He then turned his eyes away and onto the Theorist. “So you’re a Seer, then?”

The Theorist sat up straight. “Uh, yes.”

“Care to tell me my future?”

“Oh, uh,” he shared an uncertain glance with Virgil. “Okay. If you’re sure about it.” He held his hands out, palms up.

Patton placed his hands on top. “I’m fairly certain.”

Virgil tried to pretend he had better things to do while that went on. He didn’t want to draw any attention to them by standing there and staring. What brought him back was the Theorist yanking his hands away as if he had been burned.

He failed to cover up such a reaction. “Is there a specific question you want to be answered?”

Patton clasped his hands together and placed them on his lap. “What’s the ratio of bad to good?”

“Normally, I’d say that’s relative.” He delayed his next sentence. “But I get the feeling I know how you'd perceive it so I'd say it’s mostly bad.”

“What happens in the good parts?”

Once again, he hesitated, but for a different reason. He took a glance around the bar before grabbing the leftover shot glass and turning it over, making the bottom the top. He waved his hands over it. Little moving pictures projected on all sides of the glass. A makeshift crystal ball. "You get a normal life." He placed his hands on the counter. "There will be ups and downs, but you get through all of them. It was a little tricky to see since you spend most of your time as a fusion, but getting passed this stretch of hardships will lead to some of the best moments of your life. You might even consider it a happy ending."

Patton stared at the glass. The little pictures floated around of scenes that had yet to come. A majority of them had Picani rather than Patton himself. "And what of the bad?"

The Theorist's fingers curled up. He swallowed thickly and focused on the glass rather than anyone else.

Virgil put his hand over it. The happy images faded. "I don't think we need to focus on that," he whispered. He knew a lot about those bad timelines. It wasn't anything Patton should see. Especially since in many of them, Logan died in his arms.

Patton's brows knitted together.

"He might be right." The Theorist pulled himself together. "Focusing on the bad parts of a possible timeline tend to create a self-fulfilling prophecy." He fidgeted. “Virgil, can I talk to you outside for a moment?”

“Uh.” Virgil did his best to gauge how much of an effect his absence would have. Eh, it might be fine. “Sure.”

They left a confused Patton to try to figure out the pieces himself.

The moment they stepped outside, the Theorist heaved a sigh as if he had been forced to hold his breath. “And that is why I try not to do future readings anymore.” He dragged his hands down his face. “I’ve never seen a future so full of despair. All his timelines are so drastically different! I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“What d’you mean?” Virgil didn’t like how it sounded.

“I mean, normally, someone’s timelines don’t have such intense extremes. Their future is up to them to choose and interpret. Sometimes a minor inconvenience is what they see as devastating. Sometimes finding a dollar on the floor in two months is the best thing to happen to them. That’s all mundane stuff -- stuff I usually see out of many people.” He looked down at his hands and frowned. “All of the bad timelines were so short. If we continue to follow a bad path, he has what -- a few weeks left at most? But in all the good timelines he goes on to be thousands of years old. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“How would that even happen?”

“Because he doesn’t have a choice,” the Theorist snapped.

Virgil’s back straightened, caught completely off-guard by the harsh tone.

A slow realization crossed the Theorist’s face. He sighed and blinked to get rid of the tears in his eyes. “Virgil,” despite speaking to him, he didn’t lift his eyes, “I’ve been able to see into time since I was five. I’m almost five hundred years old now, and I’ve seen some pretty awful things come to fruition -- things I could’ve stopped.” He pressed his back against the wall of the building. “I used to think that time was a straight line. I thought it was something that couldn’t waver from its path. But that’s not true.” He looked right at Virgil. “The future can be bent in any shape you make of it. That’s the beauty of free will. Good and bad futures are interchangeable and any bend you make can bridge the gap between the two.

“But Patton doesn’t have that option. His future is affected by the decisions of others. Where we are now, in this current mess of a timeline, he can’t affect his own future. Not unless we get out of it. But he has no way of getting out of it himself. And that just isn’t fair, is it?” He held such a genuine sincerity in his voice that Virgil wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “Promise me you’ll do whatever you can to fix this. I’ll try to help out to the best of my ability, but ultimately it’ll come down to you. You, Roman, and Thomas are the only ones who’ll be there to change anything. Promise you’ll try to do something.”

“I…” That was a rather tall order. The answer was obvious, however. “I promise.”

Virgil didn’t want to talk about the future for the rest of the night.

He would have gotten through with it if it wasn’t for Patton.

The bar closed. They were the only people in the building. Virgil had a few things left to clean up before they could go. He tried to insist that Patton didn’t need to help, but of course, it didn’t work. It always went faster with two people, anyway. It was as they cleaned that Patton decided to bring up a certain topic for discussion.

“Hypothetically --” Virgil’s blood immediately ran cold -- “if someone were to see into time when they weren’t supposed to, they’d tell their friends, right?” Patton stopped and stared right at him. Somehow, it seemed more like a demand than a question. Everything in his expression and posture said that he knew.

Virgil couldn’t face him. Like a kid that got caught in a lie. “If we’re purely speaking in hypotheticals here, I’d think maybe that person wouldn’t want to say anything about it. Because they wouldn’t want their friends to have that burden.”

“Burdens shouldn’t be carried alone.” With that finalizing statement, he carried on with what he was doing.

Oh, man. Come on! That wasn’t fair. He made it sound so easy. And why the hell did he start sounding so serious today? Throughout the whole exchange with the Theorist, he didn't sound very Patton. It was kinda weird. Virgil decided to do what he did best; deflect the situation. “So, uh, was what the Theorist said true?” He heard Patton stop moving. “About what you are, I mean.”

“You mean how the Machai are emotionless, ruthless creatures?”

“Yeah -- emotionless?” Virgil whipped his head around to look at him.

It seemed that particular statement went ignored. “Most of it was true. The Machai are warriors. I’ve known how to handle a weapon for almost as long as I could walk. I was raised to stay with the tribe -- that all outsiders are bad." He leaned against the edge of a table. "There’s a lot of fighting and killing, and just flat out messy ways of dealing with stuff. But I-I don’t do that anymore. That’s part of the reason I left.”

Well, he didn’t have enough time to unpack all of that. “What’s another part?”

Patton’s whole demeanor changed. His eyes brightened like a warm fire had been lit in them. A soft smile slid onto his face. “Love.”

(Next)

[juni-ravenhall]

writings about juni as an oc

30 questions about Juni (with unnecessarily long answers), from this SSO OC asks posts except i just filled it all out in one go. i want to try developing her into a more detailed character just for fun so this seemed like the best way to start! i hadn’t decided anything about her besides “non-binary and pan” until starting to fill this out hahah, i just tapped into my jorvegian feels and went along with what felt right.

this is already stated on my “about” page but, to be clear, Juni is some kinda persona/OC thingy and not “me”, while having some traits and details inspired by my real self. (you can definitely get to know about me by reading this, but, it’s not me me.)

BASIC CHARACTER INFO (remember her details are not mine!) Name: Juni Ravenhall Age: around 18-20 i guess, don’t wanna make her too old to fit with the other characters in the story. Gender: non-binary / genderfluid?, but more or less OK with her female body, and she’s fine with any pronouns. Sexuality: panromantic pansexual.

1. What is their home stable in-game? Why?

South Hoof Peninsula (headcanon:ing that there is a home stable there, obviously) because it’s her home. While travelling she makes use of stables and accomodations anywhere, so some people know her in the places she stays over a lot (Valedale, Moorland, others).

2. Where do they actually live in Jorvik?

Her home is on South Hoof, although she doesn’t stay there for long periods of time anymore with all the travelling and adventures going on. She was born in Valedale, but was taken to South Hoof as a small child. (My headcanon is that there’s a few more people living on the peninsula than what’s shown in-game.) It’s worth noting she’s an orphan (or is she...?! *dun dun dun*) so she grew up without a biological family. (btw, that’s not just to be dramatic... I’m from an abusive home and parents mean nothing to me, so I wouldn’t be able to relate to her as much if I gave her some kind of normal, caring parents, I don’t know that stuff. I’d much rather she has no parents / doesn’t know her parents, than that she has to grow up with awful ones.)

3. Who is their favorite NPC?

Hmm, I would make up some OCs for her proper personal story, but out of the NPCs that exist..... (these are not all my favourites, just some of them that I think works well for her story.) - She knows everyone at South Hoof to some degree since she grew up there, I think she’s especially close with Jonas as a parent-figure of sorts, and of course, Madison. She helps the hermit and is on good terms with him. When Hugh moved there, she started making friends with him, I imagine they’ll get close as Juni really cares about animal rescue. - She's fairly close to Conrad, mix of mentor, friend and parent-figure. (He’s taught her more than what’s shown in canon, and she visits him anytime she’s staying in Moorland.) - She likes helping Agnetha and Björn with their garden projects so they have a friendly relation, though casual. It’s the kind of thing where she’ll stay over and help them for a few days, and at the end of the day they have cozy outdoor dinners outside the house, watching the sunset view from the cliff and smelling the roses. They probably get some great fresh food from around Silverglade. - I think she's somewhat friends with Ed at Wolf Hell Inn (or stays over and sees what crazy stuff he’s up to often enough). - She definitely likes Rania and like going out for rides with her, whether there’s a special cause or not. I forget the name of that crazy ranger girl... but she likes her and Alonso too. - She likes hanging out with Mario, and they’ll have picnics on the mountain or on top of the observatory after she’s been helping him out, watching the stars together (platonically). - She’s a wary friend of the Bobcats and Justin, like, they could be friends (since she’s at Moorland often enough) but they aren’t quite. I think she gets along with Josh (pole bending guy). - I was going to write about the soul riders and druids... but I think in my made-up headcanon, Juni's situation and role in the soul rider team would be different. I’ll have to think more about it.

4. Who is their Soul Steed? What breed are they? Do they have any markings or look different in some way from the in-game appearance you could give them?

Winterborn, a Jorvik Warmblood stallion (here’s his tag on my blog). He’s a brave and loving companion, thoughtful sometimes, a bit silly and spoiled sometimes. His bond with Juni is very strong. He probably does look a bit different in my headcanon but I’d have to draw/edit it to make a decision, so let’s leave that in the air for now...

5. What is their favorite location? (Ex, Hollow Woods, Greendale, Silverglade Manor Library) Why?

- South Hoof, as her adopted home, and because of the ancient and “wild and free” energy it has. She feels relaxed and at home there, and somehow connected to the magic of the land (even before she learns about magic). - Valedale and the surrounding areas like Hollow Woods, where she feels a nagging sense of nostalgia and belonging, a tingling mysterious feeling (similar but not the same as what she feels on South Hoof). She loves the flowers, buildings and nature there. - Moorland Forge, for Conrad. - Agnetha and Björn’s gardens. - Wolf Hell Inn, she likes it there and (as mentioned) she likes seeing what weird stuff Ed is up to. - Dino Valley, she loves the winter, the solitude, and the challenge of survival (she’s an adventurer after all). - Crescent Moon Village, just for how cozy it is, and the Mirror Marshes, for its beauty. There’s a lot of spots around New Hillcrest and Epona she likes in general too. - Goldenhills Valley, she loves the autumn colours and the ruins, and takes an interest in the witchcraft that she sees, starting to wonder what’s good and bad magic. - Cape West, a cute little village to visit now and then. - Jarlaheim, as a place to hang out and shop / rest, after a day of helping out with farm chores around the area. - Greendale, where it seems like faeries might pop out if you’re quiet enough. - Ydris’ circus, because she can’t help but get curious about it. (I love circus / fairground aesthetics personally... I’m one of those people who’s always loved clowns and everyone else is like “what?! clowns are creepy man!”) - Mistfall and Firgrove are places she likes both for the nature and buildings, but she doesn’t tend to stay there long. - The Observatory, and other spots high up with great views, like the shortcut between Firgrove and Valedale, and the secret path up the mountain in Firgrove, too. - Aideen’s Plaza in Jorvik City, a cozy and fun place when you need a break from the countryside, especially if there’s an event / festival / market going on. - Pandoria? -- there’s certainly something about it...

6. Who’s their favorite horse? Why?

I’m going to say Juni doesn’t own any other horse than Winterborn, at least at this time. (Obviously I have lots in-game but for this OC story it doesn’t really make sense, so let’s say the rest aren’t canon, haha. Maybe they’re horses she’ll own later in life.)

7. What are their powers? Are they stronger with one Circle over any of the others?

Hmm... I dunno, I have to think more about this one. I probably want to draw some pictures to figure out more about her relation to magic and Pandoria and all that.

8. What’s their usual style? Any favorite tack sets or color themes for them?

She likes all colours and likes putting together new outfits and tack sets of various styles, but some particular favourite colours are red and purple, and overall her style tends to be bold and graphic rather than soft or gentle. She can do soft and gentle too though, when she feels like it!

9. Thoughts about Jorvik City? How do they feel about Rania’s petition for a horse-friendly Jorvik City?

She likes it there (especially Aideen’s Plaza as mentioned), but definitely thinks that there’s such a thing as “too much city” and has to retreat to nature after some time there. A horse-friendly city would be nice, as Winterborn would probably really enjoy getting spoiled with treats at the Plaza on a warm evening, getting petted by nice strangers.

10. Thoughts about Justin? (I’m sorry, I’m curious, he shows up so much)

She pities him in a kind way, thinks he’s sensitive and immature. She wouldn’t mind being friends with him once he starts growing as a person. She also likes lasagna, so they could organise a lasagna party together with the Bobcats sometime.

11. How do they feel about the magical horse race at the circus? Did they enjoy being a horse?

While she doesn’t like how Ydris treats people, she thought it was really interesting and insane, and had a lot of thoughts about what magic is / what magic can do after starting to come into contact with all its different types (Pi, Ydris, the soul riders and druids, etc etc). Maybe being able to turn into a horse at will and gallop around with Winterborn would be really cool!

12. Do they trust the Druids? Or how do they feel about them?

Once she starts getting to know about them, she trusts them as soon as she knows Conrad is involved with them, because she trusts him. Of course she doesn’t trust them 100%, due to all the weird stuff that goes on, but she trusts that they have good intentions even if it doesn’t always come out right, or maybe the right people aren’t in charge.

13. Least favorite NPC?

That’s a tough one... let’s just say she doesn’t like when people use or abuse others. However, she believes that anyone can change and become a better person, it’s just exceptionally hard for some people (and nobody is entitled to forgiveness). (Honestly it’s just difficult because I’m an open-minded person and I appreciate villainous *fictional* characters for their roles in a story, just as well as I appreciate the heroes and background characters. I don’t see a point in being pissy about fictional villains, they’re just part of a story, and in fiction everyone has a chance at bettering themselves. Plus, the victims of their actions are all fictional... nobody really got hurt. I wouldn’t think IRL people like Tr*mp is going to change for the better, plus even if he did he’s caused a lot of people a lot of harm, so IRL is another thing. but I can accept any character’s change and redemption in fiction because... it’s fiction, a fantasy.)

14. How do they make their money?

Before travelling she made them by doing odd jobs around South Hoof, now she does odd jobs around Jorvik. Often she’ll take a trade and do work for food and someplace to stay for the night instead of getting paid. She sells things she’s found and things she’s made now and then (having some skills in crafts).

15. How many horses do they own?

Same answer as before, as an OC she only owns Winterborn (right now).

16. How many pets do they have? What kind? What are their names?

I don’t think I want her to have any at this time, I might change my mind later. She loves the farm animals and the wild horses on South Hoof, of course, and helps take care of other people’s pets when needed. (I love my baby seal in the game though.)

17. How do they feel about the Soul Riders? Do they trust them? Feel like an outsider? Are they closer to some over the others?

I’ll have to decide on her role in the story and relating to the soul riders before I can answer that, so I’ll leave that for now. I don’t think she’s very close with any of them, if anything it’d be a somewhat good relation with Linda and Alex, I think.

18. Do they believe something mystical, magical, or otherwise strange really exists in Dino Valley? How did they feel about the leaving of the Kallter and the roar/scream/screech in the Valley?

There’s absolutely something strange about it, and her heart beats at the idea of more adventures there. The Kallters must have had a reason to leave.

19. Thoughts about Jorvik Wild Horses?

I think for headcanon OC story purposes, Jorvik Wild Horses and Starbreeds are probably the same thing? Just like, I’d go with that there’s a one type of magic horses with Jorvegian magic (or Pandorian) flowing through them, but then they can look different from each other. In the headcanon there wouldn’t be random Jorvik Wilds running around or anything, it’d be super special rare stuff like the Starbreeds are.

20. Do you think they are a Wild Whisperer? Or are they just bonded with their Soul Steed?

I’m not sure, leaning towards that she’s mostly just bonded with Winterborn. Maybe she has some level of whispering abilities but it’s definitely not one of her strongest skills.

21. What’s their favorite Jorvegian holiday or celebration?

All holidays, any excuse to celebrate, although she prefers peaceful and homely celebrations over parties or high-tempo events. Life is precious, so she celebrates every day to some degree (like I mentioned... sunset picnics, enjoying nature).

22. What do they think or feel about Pandoria? Have they or do they visit outside of the quests (using the rifts)? If they have or still do, why?

I think at the time I would place Juni’s story, she’s only starting to learn about Pandoria and is still confused and thoughtful about the different types and uses of magic. So what she’s going to think of Pandoria and what she’ll do about it would be something to figure out.

23. How has their visit(s) to Pandoria affected them? Do they have scars? Has it affected any of their life views?

See above. But also, since I want to explore Juni’s relation to magic, I’ll say I think the magic (or something else about Pandoria) might start to eat at her, and maybe she starts losing herself a bit the deeper she gets into those thoughts and the magic itself. (Hint... I think it’ll have to do with being an orphan and feeling alone and depressed.)

24. Would they ever consider working for Dark Core or believing their side?

No, I can’t imagine she would unless there was some very specific reason.

25. What or who is Garnok to them? A dark presence? A squid-like monster? A child with a ridiculously complicated jumping course (fuckin @’s Lizzy)?

I love Lizzy’s course lol, but maybe Garnok did have a hand in it... Anyway, I don’t think Juni knows anywhere near enough to have an understanding of Garnok at this point, so it’s just some vague thing the druids aren’t describing enough.

26. Do they ever go to the Disco? If they don’t, would they ever consider going? What would it take to make them go?

She goes sometimes, but she quickly gets tired of both dancing and socialising in crowds and has to wind down afterwards, maybe just sitting down at the disco balcony to look at the ocean, or heading down to the beach to lie down and rest. The evening ride back to her home on South Hoof (or to a place to stay in Moorland if the ferry stopped running) is a moment of winding-down, too.

27. Disco or Moorland Beach party?

The beach party is probably a little more chill, which suits her.

28. Are they interested in helping with archaeology or fishing?

She likes trying to do archaeology, and finds ancient (or just old) things really interesting, but she’s not necessarily the best at it. It’s something she does from time to time, or when someone asks for help. Fishing is something she’d only do when hanging out with someone else.

29. How do they feel about Igor, the waiter/manager of the Dino Valley cafe, and whom seemed interested in your horse for… “culinary reasons?”

She hopes he was joking, and appreciates his efforts in starting up the café since the Dino Valley crew is so small, and everyone needs each others’ help to survive and explore there.

30. Do they like the perpetual winter of Dino Valley or the perpetual autumn/fall of Goldenhills Valley, or is it strange to them? Do they prefer one over the other, or neither?

She likes them both, but she’s curious about what they’d look like if the seasons did change.

[rnurphyslawed-archived]

Verses

Verse ?? // I don’t really know, either. [Default.]

In which everything is mostly the same as in canon. 

Verse 01 // It’s My World and We’re All Living in it [Canon.]

In which everything is the same as canon. (Occurrences in this verse are often remembered and considered canon for all intents and purposes. Ships excluded.)

Verse 02 // 104 Days of Summer Vacation [Camp Camp verse.]

In which the Murphys are remodeling over the summer, and Milo is whisked away to the affordable Camp Campbell to prevent Murphy’s law from racking up debt. He’s officially enrolled in music camp but... he’s just sort of excited to try everything. 

Verse 03 // Lonely at the Top [Supervillain verse.]

In which he is Milo Murphy by day, regular kid and bad luck extrordinairre. By night, he’s Danville’s supervillain of misfortune, manipulating his own mindset to affect Murphy’s Law to his will. Milo, technically not ‘super’, has spent the last few years learning to fight and hold his own. No matter how many times a hero has thwarted him, he manages to escape arrest, thanks to EHML.

Theorists speculate that the source of his power comes from magic or witchcraft, no one thinking to draw the connection between clumsy, hapless little Milo Murphy and the notorious villain.

( More info here. )

Verse 04 // It’s a Wild Ride [Wild Grinders verse.]

In which Milo’s the new kid in Sprawl City, and somehow manages to make friends (and eventually become an item) with Lil’ Rob of the rising teen skate group, the Wild Grinders. Milo has no idea how to use a skateboard, admittedly, but he can roller skate pretty well.

Verse 05 // You’ve got the Power Inside of You [Pok.emon verse.]

In which Milo was deemed prepared for his life-changing P.okemon journey upon turning 14. He has his starter, a Murkrow he’s had from childhood, and together they take their time travelling across the Unov.a region on a journey of self-discovery and exploration. Milo prefers to capture P.okemon that are typically avoided due to their bad luck, and has a team full of mostly dark types as a result.

Verse 06 // Two Angels of a Feather [Guardian Angel verse.]

In which Milo is a guardian angel sent to watch over someone who may be in danger of injury or death. Though frankly, Milo isn’t actually a guardian angel. While guardian angels do exist, Milo’s actually a fallen angel posing as one. He feeds off of his host’s misery and causes chaos to create more misery. Milo hates feeding from innocent people’s despair, but he can’t survive without it. He just hopes his host doesn’t find out.

Verse 07 // We’ll Always Find a Way [Steven’s verse.]

In which Milo takes Connie’s place in the series. Milo likes to go on adventures with his best friend (and perhaps boyfriend) Steven and his gem family, and he tends to shake up their lives a bit.

Verse with partcfyouruniverse. Please discuss if you are interested in using this verse.

Verse 08 // [Young Adult verse.]

In which Milo is the lead acordanist in a traveling band. Just Getting Started started picking up some traction in their later high school years, and the crew decided to take a gap year (or few years) just to see where the beat carries them.

The band travels across the nation in a decomissioned truck that Milo and his father refurbished into a tour bus. They’re playing gigs and concerts where people will have them, gaining some popularity, earning income, and over all, just enjoying life for whatever comes their way.

The band has a reputation of being a little destructive, but their music is amazing, they’re fronted by an already well-known face in the music industry, and you’re guarenteed to have a fun time at one of their shows.

Verse 09 // Lights, Hazardous, Chain reaction! [Actor verse.]

In which Milo’s a boy with a killer singing voice, a natural knack for acting, and a dream! When he auditions for a role in a TV show with his sister, he manages to charm his way into the starring role. Upon his casting, the show’s concept is tweaked slightly to accommodate his natural EHML into his character.

The show is called “M.ilo M.urphy’s Law”, and it’s about a boy who’s afflicted by Extreme Hereditary M.urphy’s L.aw and his two best friends going with the natural flow.

Milo is friendly, silly, funny and energetic, using kindness to charm his way into others’ hearts. He’s friends with everyone in the studio and greets them by name every time he sees them. He genuinely loves to meet his fans, hosting as many meet-and-greets as possible, setting the prices as affordable as allowed, and likes to give away meet-and-greet tickets and autographs. Milo loves to laugh and have fun, and he’s known for being a bit of a prankster, and rumor has it that Milo has plans for the last day of filming and even bigger schemes for the premiere.

[more info here]

(Based on my actor au! Will link when posted on my personal. Feel free to make a matching verse if you want, but talk to me first so I know!)

Verse 10 // How my life life flipped ‘round; turned upside down! [Time Travelling Family verse.]

In which Milo gets adopted by the pistchio duo... but, sadly, it’s not that clear cut. The pistachio duo had reason to believe that Milo was about to die, and in a panicked, rushed decision, opted to save an injured, unconsious Milo from a gruesome accident scene, despite how definitely illegal it was and the severe punishments the may face if they’re caught.

With a forged adoption paperwork reading the full name “Milo Danger M.urphy C.avendish-D.akota” for the boy and a promotion from pistachio duty for the adults, Milo and his new dads need to learn how to survive in 2175, and keep both Murphy’s Law and Milo’s true past on the down-low. It isn’t easy, but there’s no room for screwing up and it’s do-or-die.

[more info here] [part two here]

(This verse is my very own growing composition, so I’d very much appreciate it if you wouldn’t steal it for roleplay use! Especially since I have plans to make something REALLY COOL out of this verse in the future. I’m not stopping you from adoption au’s! Just please don’t take my plot.

If you are a C.avendish and/or D.akota, and you want to do this verse with me (and me only), you may add this verse to your page, as long as you credit me and talk to me first.)

Verse xx // Did you just put an egg in your pocket?

In which reality is broken as we know it... sometimes. [Crack verse.]

[impala-dreamer]

Words Can Hurt

SPN FanFic

~Dean and Y/N investigate a couple of strange deaths in upstate New York.~

Dean x Reader, OMC (Ryan), Sam (barely)

4,129 Words

Warnings: SFW, few curses, mentions of show level gore and deaths, tiny bit o’angst, mostly crack and fluff to finish. 

A/N: This is my entry for @jalove-wecallhimdean  500 Followers - Do It Like Dean Challenge! Congrats Sweetheart! My prompt was, “Start talking Chuckles!” Hope you like it!

“I just do not get it. It’s like… the guy literally took a long walk off a short pier.” Dean shook his head, confused and also just a little bit amused by their current case.

Y/N nodded, looking out at the calm water. “Yup, that’s exactly what he did.” They were standing on the edge of a broken down pier overlooking the Hudson River. The old wooden dock had been long abandoned and overtaken by the greenery that lined the coast. It was mostly hidden from the road, but today, police tape and flashing lights brought attention to the crime scene.

A man walking into the cold water and drowning in itself wasn’t enough to bring hunters into town, but add that to the three other odd deaths that had taken place over the last week, and Y/N’s interest had been piqued. She turned and climbed back up the small frozen hill, her heels digging into the dirt, and smiled at the handsome detective who held his hand out for her.

“Well thank you sir,” she said, accepting his assistance.

He flashed a brilliant smile, all teeth and twinkling eyes as he looked her over, his hand locked around hers. “Not a problem at all Agent. It’s not every day we get the FBI to help us out; and never agents as beautiful as you.”

Y/N laughed, blushing at his compliment, “Well, we do try to help out where we can.”

Dean cleared his throat behind her, annoyed at the blatant flirting happening before him. “So, Ryan… it is Ryan, isn’t it?” The young detective nodded, releasing Y/N’s hand and facing Dean. “We’re gonna need to see any files you have on Mr. O’Donnell, follow up with his family and that sort of thing. Also the info on the other cases we spoke about.”

Ryan nodded, “Sure, but I’m still not sure what those have to do with this?”

Dean scoffed, puffing out his chest, asserting his fake authority. “Why don’t you let us worry about that, son?”

The detective agreed and walked off, leaving Y/N to scold Dean in peace, her hand flying to her hip. “Why do you have to do that? Poor guy’s probably new at this and you go treating him like he’s a toddler.”

“Me? Why do you have to flirt with every cop we talk to? It’s unlady like Y/N.” Dean pushed past her and headed towards the Impala.

“Excuse me!” She called after him in a hushed voice, leaning over the hood of the car as she glared at him. “I can’t help it if guys like me! If you haven’t noticed lately, I fill out this power suit quite nicely.”

“You’re unbelievable. Why don’t you go cozy up to your boyfriend and get the files?” He waved a hand towards the detective and hopped into the car.

Y/N rolled her eyes and set off. There was no use arguing with Dean, but she did enjoy the back and forth. Kept things interesting when the hours got long. She missed Sam; he usually stepped in to shut them both up. Without him around, who knows how long they could go on like this.

“OK, so… victim numero uno dies of quote: ‘self imposed asphyxiation’,” Dean read from the case file while Y/N paced around the motel room, trying to piece together the information they had. “It sounds like he held his breath until he died.” Dean looked up, his brows knitted together. “Is that even possible?”

Y/N shrugged, “I mean, I guess it is if you’re cursed or something.” She stuck her thumb in her mouth, chewing on the nail as she pondered. “You think we’re dealing with witches?”

Dean sighed dramatically and rubbed his forehead, “God, I hate witches.”

“Yeah, I know.” She kept pacing as she talked through her thoughts. “The woman who choked last Tuesday, it was on a sock, right?” Dean mumbled in agreement. “And the kid two days ago, he literally bit off more than he could chew, died eating an entire ham. You see the pattern here?”

Dean was watching her with glassy eyes as she jogged back and forth across the ugly green carpet. “Yeah, I think I get it.” Y/N kept up her pacing, turning around once she hit each wall and starting again.

“So, great, now we just have to figure out the whos, the whats,” she rambled on just as quickly as she walked. “The wheres, and the whys, and all that crap. Do you think it could be something else? I mean, maybe it’s not a witch.” Dean blinked wildly as she carried on, trying to follow her through his exhaustion. “If it is, it’d have to be a very powerful witch to curse so many people. And they’re not connected at all. So how is it happening? How is the witch doing it, ya know? Maybe we should call Sam. He could have some ideas worth thinking over…”

“Sit down and shut up, Y/N!” Dean yelled, his patience finally breaking.

Almost instantly, Y/N fell to the floor, sitting down cross legged on the scratchy carpet; her lips sealing shut. Dean sighed, hanging his head and covering his eyes with his hand, thankful for the moment of silence. It took a few seconds before he realized what had happened and his head snapped up, looking at Y/N in shock. “Hey, you… just sat down and shut up. You never ever listen to me. What the hell?”

Y/N’s eyes went wide and she shook her head, unable to answer him.   

Dean laughed. He couldn’t help it, and he knew she’d be angry, but he did. He threw his head back and laughed at the amusing possibilities of the curse. Y/N glared at him from the floor, waiting patiently for her speech to return to her.

Dean calmed down after a good while, wiping the tears from his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “OK. OK. This is… awesome. So, if I understand correctly, whatever anyone is told to do, they do. The curse, or whatever it is, is making these idioms become fact. Or commands. I told you to can it, so you did. Mom tells her kid he’s gonna bite off more than he can chew, he does. What’s with the sock?”

Y/N mumbled from below, “Ick ah oct in in” She struggled to open her mouth, stretching her jaw until it finally gave way a little.

“What? Excuse me?” Dean started laughing again, but held himself in check.

“Stick a sock in it,” she finally said clearly. “So she did. Until she choked. That’s just terrible.”

Dean pursed his lips and shrugged, “Yeah, especially if the sock was dirty.”

“You are such an asshole, you know that?”

Dean’s phone rang before he could offer a witty retort; the raunchy guitar lick filling the small room. Y/N climbed to her feet, stretching her legs as Dean answered the phone. She shuffled through the files on the table, looking over each victim’s life, written in short, choppy paragraphs on photocopied paper. How sad, she thought, that an entire life could be boiled down to a few lines of smudged black and white.

“Well that was your boyfriend, Ryan,” Dean informed her with extra emphasis on the detective’s name. Y/N rolled her eyes beautifully. “They found another body.”

“Really now? And what’d this vic do? Face-palm too much? Eat shit and die?” Y/N chuckled and Dean sneered.

“You really should leave the jokes to me, Sweetheart.” He sighed and continued. “Nope, this guy…” he smiled, trying not to laugh again, “ripped an arm and a leg off at the used car dealership.”

“Because the car was gonna cost him…”

“Yeah, an arm and a leg.” Dean scrunched his eyes shut and did his best to not make a tasteless joke. After all, someone had just died. “This case is gonna kill me.”

“Any ideas Agent Nicks?” Ryan asked, his pretty blue eyes focused on the line of cleavage peeking between Y/N’s blouse; a fact that did not escape her notice.

“A few, none that we can share with you yet unfortunately. But thank you again for all your hard work Detective.” She batted her eyelashes and touched his arm, laying her fingers in the crook of his elbow. The young man smiled, swallowing hard, his face turning a deep rose at the attention he was receiving.  

Y/N heard Dean let out a huff behind her, surely, she knew, accompanied by a stunning eye roll.

Ryan reluctantly left the two fake Feds to examine the body, turning back not once, but three times to smile at Y/N before he turned the corner and disappeared into the labyrinth of hospital hallways.

“That dude needs to chill,” Dean commented as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

Y/N flipped the file folder onto a clean examining table and joined Dean by the corpse. “Huh, I was actually thinking I might let him take me out tonight. I could use a little wine and dine.”

Dean sucked in a breath, filled with uncalled for jealousy. “You bite your tongue! You don't want to go out with-”

“Ouch!” Y/N yelped, her hand flying to get mouth; tears of pain springing to get eyes.

Dean cringed, “Shit, I'm sorry. Did you?”

“Yes.” Y/N whined

“Is it bad?”

“Yes!” she groaned through clenched teeth and gave him a hard stare. “Let's just get this over with. And stop with the idioms please!”

The body was a mess. How a forty three year old, out of shape, restaurant manager could rip his own arm and leg off was a mystery never to be solved, but there it was, plain as day. He'd been able to sever both limbs before collapsing from blood loss and shock, the gruesome event caught on security camera.

There were no marks, no ritualistic carvings, no hex bags on his person or at the scene; nothing that could account for the strange deaths overtaking the quiet New York suburb. There was no connections between any of the victims, and nowhere to start digging for an answer. They didn't even know what they were looking for since the lack of  paraphernalia made it clear the cause was not witchcraft.

Y/N and Dean walked down Main Street, silently observing the bustling neighborhood, raising eyebrows at each other as they noticed the strange behavior around them.

Dean nudged Y/N in the side, calling attention to a man loading up his truck with what looked to be the entire contents of his home. “See what's missing?” Dean asked with a chuckle. “It's everything but the kitchen sink.”

Y/N shook her head, trying not to laugh. It was funny, sure, but it could very easily turn deadly. A scream filled the air nearby, and Y/N took off towards it. Dean followed to find Y/N at an outdoor cafe, looking at a shrieking couple. It seemed the wife had jabbed a fork into her husband's hand.

Dean grabbed Y/N’s arm, pulling her away, heading back towards the motel as she giggled. “She stuck a fork in him, Dean. Cause he was done.” Neither hunter could hide their amusement any longer, and seeing as how the man would live, they allowed themselves a moment of laughter. They chuckled all the way back to their room, collapsing, out of breath onto the bed once they arrived.

“Did you see that old man, Y/N/N? He was foaming at the mouth!” Dean slapped a hand on his stomach, enjoying the merriment.

Y/N began to settle, sitting up on her elbows. “This is all very funny, but also not good dude. What about the guy who was sitting in the E.R. after trying to ‘keep his eyes peeled’? We gotta make with the research tonight. This has to stop.”

Dean sat up, “OK. You get started, I'll go grab us some burgers.”

Y/N’s eyes were burning as she scrolled through page after page on her laptop, coming up short with each new idea. Finally she gave up and called Sam, filling him in with what they had so far.

“Huh, it sounds pretty bad there. You want me to take a ride?”

“No, Sam. We got this. I’m just having trouble pinning down the cause, but thanks.” Y/N sat at the table, pouring over the files for the thousandth time.

“Well, it sounds like this case we worked a while back, but it can’t be that,” he confessed, his voice pouring out from the phone speaker.

“Oh yeah? What was it?”

“The Anti-Christ.”

Y/N laughed, “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Uh, yeah Y/N. But I don’t think it’s that. Have you considered a Trickster?”

“I… have not…” Quickly she typed the name into her search engine and scanned through some page summaries. “Huh, that could be it.”

The door burst open then, Dean rushing in with take out bags and a proud grin on his freckled face. “I got it! It’s a Trickster!” He said excitedly.

“We know,” Y/N said, motioning to the phone.

Dean deflated instantly, sighing, “Oh man, you called Sam?”

“Hi Dean.”

Dean glared at the phone, “Hey, you wanted to sit this one out, so sit it out.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and picked up the phone, “Thanks Sam, I’ll call you later.” She glared at Dean with her usual expression when he was being an ass. “You’re so cranky lately.”

He opened one of the bags and dug through it, pulling out a foil wrapped burger and tossing it at her. “Yeah, well I don’t like this case. I feel like I can’t say anything.”

“Maybe if you just tried being nice…”

“I’m always nice! I’m a joy to be around!”

“Right, clearly. Anyway,” Y/N picked up some crime scene photos and flipped through them. “The trickster theory might fit.” Dean settled down in the chair across from her, unwrapping his dinner and barely paying attention. “It’s funny, well, if you’re not on the receiving end of it. It’s clever, and there’s been random candy wrappers found at each crime scene.”  

“What? No there hasn’t,” Dean took a huge bite of his cheeseburger.

“Yeah, there have.” Y/N stood up and dropped the pictures in front of him, “Read ‘em and weep cowboy!” She walked away, pulling out a dress from her bag and slipping into the bathroom.

She showered quickly and changed, keeping an eye on the clock. She dried her hair, and pulled it back, letting loose waves fall around her shoulders. It wasn’t until she was fiddling with her mascara that she heard it. A strange stuttering noise coming from the room behind her. Cautiously she opened the door and peeked out, seeing a sight that simultaneously made her cringe with guilt and stifle a laugh. Dean was sitting where she’d left him, the photos clutched in his hands, crying like a baby.

“Are you actually weeping?” She asked, stepping out of the warm bathroom. She went over to him and place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He pushed her away, wiping at his eyes. “Not cool Y/N,” he sobbed.

“It’s OK Dean, you just have to wait for it to pass.” She tried to take the pictures away from him, but his grip tightened around the edges. “I’m so sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He looked up at her with red eyes, his cheeks stained with tears. He looked pathetic, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “Why are you fancy?”

Y/N stepped back and spun around, showing off her tight black dress, “You like?”

“Yeah,” he said, the tears finally stopping. “I mean, no. What? Where are you going?”

“I have a date,” she grinned.

“A date? You’re not really gonna go out with that pretty boy detective, are you?” Dean stood up, jealousy clearly plastered on his wet face.

She shrugged, “So what’s it to you?”

“We’re on the job for one thing! And… and… he’s… no! Why would you do that?”

“Calm down dude. He’s hot and I’m bored.” She turned away, grabbed her purse and checked herself in the mirror one last time, adjusting her hair.

“Yeah but Y/N…”

“But what Dean? I’m not allowed to have a little fun? You get to pick up hussies in every town, but I can’t let a guy buy me some drinks? Don’t be an asshole.”

Dean pulled in a breath of air, puffing his chest out, “You can’t go out with him!”

Y/N spun around, her eyes wide with anger, “Give me one good reason why!”

He opened his mouth, ready to strike, but couldn’t. His lips snapped shut and he looked down at the ugly carpet under his feet.

Y/N shook her head, “There, see? That’s what I thought.” She stalked towards the door, pulling it open before turning back for one last jab at her friend. “Ya know what Dean? Go fuck yourse-”

“Don’t say it! Do not say it!” Dean threw his hands over his ears, screwing his eyes shut tight. “While the pipes could use some cleaning, I do not have time for that right now! Someone’s gotta finish working!” He yelled.

Y/N bit her lip, her eyes mere slits as she glared at him. “Fine. Sorry,” she softened. While it would have been amusing, she really didn’t need to think about Dean jerking off until he died. “Don’t wait up,” she said with a flip of her hair as she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

All things considered, she probably should have listened to Dean. What started out as an amazing date, drinks at the fancier bar in town, Ryan dressed in a tight, sexy red sweater, had turned into the stuff of nightmares. Well, a nightmare for anyone else; for a hunter, it just seemed par for the course.

Somewhere between handsy flirting at the bar and drunken kisses in the alley, he had gotten the best of her, knocking her out with a quick blow to the head. When she woke up, Ryan was securing her wrists to a bedpost, giggling to himself as he worked.

Y/N came to, pulling hard at her bindings as she took in the situation. “Well, fuck, I’m all for a little rough sex, but usually I get asked first. You don't even know my safe word.”

Ryan just laughed spun around, turning away from her. Y/N sighed and took stock of her surroundings: the room was rather nice, one of the nicest she’d ever been held hostage in anyway. The bed she was sitting on was soft, with a plush golden comforter and plenty of pillows; her hands tied together against the wooden headboard. All in all, it could have been worse. Her purse however, filled with her cell and gun, was across the room staring at her. She was stuck; there was no getting around it. However, if he was going to kill her, he’d have done it already.  

“So, Ryan, if that is your real name,” she joked, trying to distract him while she wiggled her wrists from the tight rope, “what’s your deal, man? Roll into a new town, get a fancy job, start killing people? That’s cool, a little psychotic, but cool. I can dig it.”

Again he only laughed. He sat on the edge of the table that held her purse and watched her with glee in his eyes.

“You’re not very chatty, huh? Well, good news is, I am. It’s a problem, really, I’m told. I just get to yappin’ and I can’t stop, you know? Some find it endearing, but mostly I just get yelled at to shut up. What can you do?” More giggles. “So you gonna tell me what you want from me? I can only assume you know what I do with my time, as well you realize that I know what you are.” Laughter. “OK, start talking Chuckles! What do you want from me?”

A loud boom of laughter filled the room as Ryan lost himself in his amusement. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as the wave of mirth washed over him. Y/N rolled her eyes and then got a spark of excitement as the ropes holding began to loosen.

“You know, I’ve been having such a good time here,” he said, finally calming down, but still grinning like an idiot. “This town is just chock full of sarcastic folks who don’t really think before they speak. They just spit out whatever’s in their tiny heads without a caring how their words could affect other people. I’m merely showing them that words can hurt.”

“Oh yeah, you’re a fucking saint.”

He tilted his head and frowned, “No need to be mean, Y/N. I’d be nicer if I were you, especially since I still haven’t decided what to do with you and your hunting buddy.”

Dean. Dean had no clue where she was, no idea she was in trouble. Suddenly she found herself hoping that he’d been overly jealous and had come looking to bust up her date.

“Well why don’t you just get it over with? This is beginning to bore me.”

Ryan bolted forward, climbing onto the bed next to her, his knee pressing against her leg. He looked down over her, his voice filling with a sharp bite as he spoke. “I think I want to play with you a little more. Have some fun.” He ran a cool hand down her face and Y/N cringed, turning away as best she could. “What should I make you do? Could tell you to bang your head against the wall, or… maybe… let the whole thing… ‘go up in flames’...” His fingers closed around her cheeks, forcing her to look up at him. “The possibilities are endless, and oh so much fun.”

“Yeah, how about you drop dead?”

Ryan turned quickly at the sound of a voice behind him. He released Y/N’s face and she craned her neck to see Dean in the open doorway, holding a wooden stake high in his hands. “Hey Y/N/N, you cool?”

“Oh I’m just chillin’ Dean, you?” She sighed, and pulled at the ropes with renewed vigor. The Trickster flew off the bed towards Dean as Y/N watched on nervously.  

“You know me,” Dean smirked as he dodged a punch, “thanks for keeping your GPS on.”

Y/N laughed, “Thanks for being so untrusting.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he said while driving his fist into Ryan’s face. “It’s that I don’t trust anyone really.” He punched again, sending the fiend reeling backwards. “Especially baby-faced detectives who hit on my girl.” Ryan lunged forward but Dean fended him off, grabbing his head and forcing it into his own knee.

“Your girl?” Y/N questioned.

Ryan fell backwards onto the floor, dazed and exhausted. In one quick motion Dean fell to his knees, jamming the blood-soaked stake through the monster’s heart, killing him instantly. Dean bobbed his head proudly and pursed his lips, “Suck on that, dick.”

Y/N smiled, as Dean stood up, so proud of himself. She gave a final twist to the ropes and managed to release one of her hands. “Dean?”

He looked over and remembered that she was tied up. He came to her side quickly and released her other wrist.

“Dean?” she asked again, trying to catch his attention.

“Yeah?”

“You said ‘your girl’. You think I’m your girl?” She bit her lip, looking up into his bright green eyes.

They filled with something she hadn’t ever seen before, something she couldn’t name, something that looked like, but couldn’t possibly be, love. “Yeah, you are. I mean, if you…”

She didn’t need to hear the end of his sentence, she’d heard enough clique phrases to last her a lifetime. Y/N lifted her hand and placed it gently around the back of his neck, pulling him down as she sat up. Their lips met and the friends turned a corner together. Dean’s hands flew to her face, cupping each cheek between his big fingers. He pulled away and held her there, just looking down into her face. “So, I guess that’s a yes?”

“Just shut up and kiss me Dean.”

The Trickster’s spell had been broken, but her words still took root within him and he complied willingly; pressing their lips together and kissing her like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do.

Forevers: @1-800-misha @amanda-teaches @arryn-nyx @atc74 @autopistaaningunaparte @ayeeitsemry  @bea789 @because-imma-lady-assface @babypieandwhiskey @blanketmadeofstar @brewsthespirit-blog @britt-spn @buckysmetallicstump @bulletscrossbowpie @charliebradbury1104 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @chelsea072498 @cici0507 @clairese1980 @collectivekiera @cosmicpeanuthologram @createdbybadappreciation @cyrilconnelly @dannnyphantomm @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @demonangelimpala @docharleythegeekqueen @dustycelt @evyiione​ @faithfulpanicmoon @feelmyroarrrr​ @flowermisha​ @freaksforthewin​ @frenchybell @fuckyeahfeysand @gemini75eeyore @ghostkitty1103 @hamartiamacguffin @impalaimagining @im-super-potter-locked @inmysparetime0 @jpadjackles @jotink78 @kristaparadowski @kas-not-cas @katrodriguez99 @lavendellove @love-kittykat21 @luciisthebest @maddieburcham1 @mamaredd123 @mogaruke @megafrontliner311 @megansescape @mija-novella @milkymilky-cocopuff @mogaruke @mrsbatesmotel53 @mrswhozeewhatsis @my-life-is-here-soo @myfand0msandm0re @mysteriouslyme81 @naadestiel @notesfromalabprincess @notnaturalanahi @obi-wan-my-only-ho @pain-of-artifice @percussiongirl2017 @percywinchester27 @petrovadixon @pinknerdpanda @poukothenerd @riddikulus-obsessions @riversong-sam @sam-winchesters-long-locks @scxrchy @smoothdogsgirl @spectaculicious @spontaneousam @summer-binging-spn @superbasementflower @supernaturallymarvellous @supernaturalyobessed @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @thecynicalnerd @the-latina-trickster @therewillbeblood @tom-is-in-my-tardis @typicalweirdbookworm @thegreatficmaster @vine-colored-assbutt @whatareyousearchingfordean @wi-deangirl77 @wvnchxstxr @xxthevampirediariesexpertxx @yearoftheweasley @youtubehelpsmesurvive @yvngkinggchristyy

The Dean’s List:  @anokhi07 @assbutt-fan @bringmesomepie56 @deadinside-muser @deangirl-withanimpala @delessapeace-blog @ellexirmalfoy @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @leather-moccasin-hero @msdooos @mskitty416 @ruprecht0420 @soullessbabee  @tmccarney @torn-and-frayed @twoboys-and-afallenangel @vesperlady04

[bi-apps]

Accepted - Greta Catchlove

gigicatchlove

submitted:

OOC Information:

Name/Age/Timezone- Ice/21/UTC+1

Activity Level- 7

Ships/Anti-Ships- To be honest, I’m open to almost anything.

Did you read the rules? Oui.

IC Information:

Character Name- Greta Catchlove

Age/Birthdate- 22/14 May

Faceclaim- Barbara Palvin, Bridget Satterlee, Celina Sinden

Occupation- Writer

Blood Status- Half-blood

Traits- +Ambitious +Friendly +Open-minded -Distant -Stubborn -Easily provoked

Patronus- The doe

Boggart- Dead parents

Key Points-

Greta grew up in the centre of Edinburgh in an airy 18th century building with her parents. Her father, a muggle, worked as an important journalist for The Scotsman newspaper while her mother, a witch, used her magic in the kitchen and became a famous chef, leading one of the finer restaurants in the city. Even though Greta’s parents were fairly busy with their careers, they made sure to spend enough time with their daughter. When Greta was little, her Dad would read her a story before going to bed everyday.  Her all time favourites were the Tales of Beedle the Bard and any of the tales of the Grimm brothers. Her mother had enchanted the little sketches in the books so they would move and Greta was absolutely fascinated by them. As she grew up, her fascination with books didn’t fade and she dove deep into both muggle and wizard world classics, as well as contemporary works. Her aspiration to become a writer became clear to her quite early and she soon started to write short stories, essays and other short pieces on her own.

It came to no surprise to Greta that she would receive an education at Hogwarts. Her mother had been a Hufflepuff before her, so Greta felt quite honoured to be sorted into that house. Greta loved the school dearly. The busy buzzing of the Great Hall in the mornings, the Hufflepuff common room – all of it held a very special place in her heart. Greta had been quite popular with other kids in Edinburgh (whom she absolutely remained friends with during her stay at Hogwarts) so it wasn’t hard for her to make great friends at the new school at all. Greta formed a close bond with one particular girl – Elsie Shacklebolt. They had met in Muggle Studies and had gotten along immediately. They bonded over their knowledge of the muggle community, their love for words and languages and their determination. The two girls are nothing alike, however, but their friendships works perfectly because of it. After graduation, Greta rented a two-bedroom apartment in London and worked on establishing herself as a writer. Elsie moved on to travel Europe but the two worked it out by writing letters religiously and visiting each other frequently. As well as meeting Elsie, Greta had met Edgar Bones, her first love, at Hogwarts. The first love stays with you forever, they say, and even though after graduating the two of them grew apart and eventually broke up, Greta hasn’t quite gotten over it yet.

Upon arriving in London, Greta quickly realised the changed atmosphere in the city. She had gotten to know London as a colourful and buzzing place but it was now only a shadow of itself. The disappearances, the deaths - You could almost smell the fear in the air. Greta’s father had gotten her a job opportunity with a newspaper in Fleet Street to work at until she was able to publish her first book and she frequently documented the situation for the paper. Whenever she was about to hand in an article, she had to update the numbers of missing an/or dead people because their numbers just kept rising. Of course Greta knew the source of the disappearances. She had not turned a blind eye to what Lord Voldemort and his followers were up to. But the activities of the Order of the Phoenix had also not gone unnoticed by them. She burned to report about both of the sides or even writing a book about the uprising while remaining neutral, as her father had taught her in good journalist fashion, but Greta was cautious and had put the thought aside for now.

Changes/Extra Info- a wee moodboard I made for her on Pinterest:https://www.pinterest.de/popsicleice_/g/

Para Sample-

The sunlight tickled Greta’s nose as she was laying on the sofa in her parents living room. The windows were open and the wind blew in fresh air that smelled like grass and rain, making the white curtains blow in the wind. It was an exceptionally beautiful day in Edinburgh but Greta knew that smell in the air. It was going to rain. This afternoon or maybe tonight. It didn’t matter to her. She was captured by another world entirely. Her fingers were clasped around a first edition copy of Wuthering Heights that her father had gotten her for her birthday. He had been in London for a business meeting and met her for a quick lunch before they took a flight to Edinburgh. Greta usually didn’t come up to Scotland for weekends. She found it to be too long of a journey. But it was her birthday weekend, she didn’t have any deadlines and she longed to see her mother and father. Her actual birthday was tomorrow and it was bad luck to get presents earlier than that but her father had been so excited that he couldn’t resist giving her the book at that lunch. Greta had read Wuthering Heights before but reading a first edition copy, the smell, the touch of the paper under her fingers…It was an entirely different experience.

She almost didn’t hear the door hit the lock or the hurried footsteps in the hallway. Her mother stopped in the door frame and watched her daughter. What a dreamer she was, always had her nose in some book. She should tell her as soon as possible. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t rip her daughter away from that book, from her life as it was. She sighed. It was no use, she had to tell her. Anything else would be irresponsible and Greta would never forgive her. She walked towards her daughter, touching her soft hair and sitting down next to her on the sofa. „Greta, my love…“ She didn’t even bother to bring a smile to her lips. Greta would call the bluff immediately. The young woman lifted her intelligent eyes and looked at her mother. Something was wrong, she could tell. There was a stern look on the older woman’s face, a look that Greta had not seen very often before. She closed the book, put it to the side and sat up. „What’s wrong, mum?“ Greta could see the thoughts flicker behind her mother’s eyes. She was struggling to tell her something. Greta grabbed her hand, pressed it softly and cocked her head ever so slightly. „What is it?“ Her mother looked down. „It’s Emily.“ Emily. Her childhood friend. They had known each other for 16 years, they had met in kindergarten. Emily was a muggle but she knew about witchcraft and wizardry. One of her great-aunts had been a witch and she was so excited when Greta had told her about it. „Emily? What’s going on? Is it the baby? Is the baby coming?“ Greta’s eyes lit up at the prospect. Emily had gotten pregnant exactly one year after marrying her boyfriend that she had been together with forever. Her mum shook her head. Her entire body was trembling. Greta got up. This wasn’t right. Her mother would not act this way if a baby was on the way. „Mum! Please. You’re scaring me!“ Greta’s mother looked up, tears in her eyes. „I think you should go to see your father.“ Nothing of this made any sense to Greta. What in God’s name did her father have to do with any of it? She hesitated. Took a step back and a step forward, shifting her weight on her feet. Her mother would not look at her anymore, her hands were shaking and she looked as though the life had left her body.

So Greta ran. Out the living room, out the house, down the street, around the corner. She knew the way by heart, she had walked it a thousand times. Only, this time, it felt as though she was flying through the city. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her and stumbled into The Scotsman’s offices. Everyone knew her here so she did not bother greeting anyone and simple hasted up the stairs to her father’s office. She pushed the door open and there he was in his chair, his head buried in his hands. „Dad.“ He looked up, his eyes were red from crying. Fear gripped Greta’s insides. She had only seen her father like this once, when his father had died a couple of years ago. Greta stumbled towards him, walking around the desk and touching his shoulders. „Dad, what’s going on?“ He shook his head slightly and gestured for her to sit down. So she sat down on his lap, like she used to do when she was a little girl. „Greta, this is hard for your mother and I but…It’s going to be even harder for you.“ – „For God’s sake, will you please tell me what’s happened already?“ Her father nodded and leaned towards the desk, shuffling some papers. It was tomorrow’s newspaper. „Eric was here earlier.“ „Why would Emily’s boyfriend come here? You two barely know each other.“ Her father’s slender fingers grabbed a page and opened it in a way that Greta could see. The newspaper had begun publishing pictures of all the people that had vanished ever since the disappearances and killings had started. Of course, muggles didn’t know how these things came to happen. For the wizarding society it was crystal clear. The Daily Prophet was issuing search warrants for missing persons every day and when Greta had shown it to her father, he had decided that muggles deserved to be informed as well.  It was usually only a handful of people but this time, it was two pages full of unknown faces. None of these faces meant anything to Greta. But she felt a painful tugging in her stomach. A feeling as though her body wanted to tell her something. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and Greta felt her heart rate fastening. „Why are you showing me this? I don’t know any of these people.“, she whispered, furrowing her brows. Her father looked at her. „Look again.“ Greta was struggling to bring herself to look back at the paper. She knew what she was going to find. She had known it all along but the realisation only became clear to her now. She scanned the page until she found familiar eyes. Round and blue like the sea. Red-ish blond hair. Freckles on the nose and cheekbones. It was an exceptionally beautiful picture of her. It had been taken on her birthday last year. There was a big smile on her lips. She looked so happy. Emily. Missing since Monday.

Outside, it had started to rain.

[thatjwguy]

Spiritism And The World Around Us     

  Disclaimer: Like before, this is in no way officially tied to the JW (Jehovah’s Witness) organization besides the articles i may share, i do these as a way of exposing the false spirit of the world and how it deceives the masses. Along with just general educational purposes, if you wanna call it that, alternative research material is what i tend to call it. Keep on the watch tho, many people are out there trying to mislead and distract people from what the truth really is. Agape!

 Deuteronomy 18:10-13                    

10. “There should not be found in you anyone who makes his son or his daughter pass through the fire, anyone who employs divination, anyone practicing magic, anyone who looks for omens, a sorcerer 11. anyone binding others with a spell, anyone who consults a spirit medium or a fortune-teller, or anyone who inquires of the dead 12. For whoever does these things is detestable to Jehovah, and on account of these detestable practices Jehovah your God is driving them away from before you.”

This could be added to one of my previous posts, since its essentially going through most of what i had talked about. I have left this picture linked to the article so all you gotta do is click on it to go to the page. I feel i have already done this topic to death, as well as the others online and offline. Anyone with common sense and a basic bible understanding should already understand these concepts, now im not sure how seriously they take the media they watch but i feel now its about as obvious as a person shouting in you face, so i feel its just more like they just dont WANT to believe it, or simply dont care.

Joshua 1:8

This book of the Law should not depart from your mouth, and you must read it in an undertone day and night, in order to observe carefully all that is written in it; for then your way will be successful and then you will act wisely.

Romans 9:20

But who are you, O man, to be answering back to God? Does the thing molded say to its molder: “Why did you make me this way?

This is unfortunate, for many reasons but for the sake of this post im going to go into only one. Lets talk about the influence of this media we watch, the people who we let into our lives, informally maybe but still nevertheless a part of your life in some way. These personalities rub off on you, would you not agree? I mean, we dont really think about this when we are viewing something or playing something in a video game. We detach ourselves from it, we see it just as entertainment and nothing more, but is that really the case? Is it really harmless to watch graphic images in horror movies or pornography?

Amos 5:15

Hate what is bad, and love what is good, Let justice prevail in the city gate. It may be that Jehovah the God of armies Will show favor to the remaining ones of Joseph.

2 Corinthians 11:14

And no wonder, for Satan himself keeps disguising himself as an angel of light.

Proverbs 22:3

 3 

 The shrewd one sees the danger and conceals himself, But the inexperienced keep right on going and suffer the

consequences

.

I know i know, this is touchy stuff, when you go into subjects like these you gotta step lightly. Lets focus on the impact that it can have on your overall thinking patterns, the way you are wired. From birth, we are a clean slate, so throughout our lives we are constantly learning from the environment in which we live, our parents and those who we spend our time with will greatly impact our personality. Not always in a good way either, take for example, your best friend perhaps. Maybe you two hit it off like two peas in a pod, but i bet one of you might be more of a bad influence on the other, kinda like brother and sister relationships sometimes, one might be a little more rebellious then the others.

Acts 14:2

But the Jews who did not believe stirred up and wrongly influenced the people of the nations against the brothers.

1 Corinthians 12:2

You know that when you were people of the nations, you were influenced and led astray to those voiceless idols, following wherever they might lead you.

This is a good scene, movie called  Double Indemnity  which has a detective going against his morals, being seduced by a vixen.

Might not be too bad but you might find yourself starting to take after them after awhile, not even knowing it usually. I should know, i have had my fair share of bad influences growing up, informally or formally. I have since separated from most of that scene, but still have some stuff to clear up. Anyway, the main point here, is we are all impacted by those around us, the world around us as a whole. So, with media, dont you feel that it would have the same effect? This is where common sense should kick in. Keep in mind, i love all forms of media (aside from the obvious garbage that goes against bible standards) for different reasons, so this in no way is an attack on media. Just to clear that up.

     Jeremiah 17:9                    

9The heart is more treacherous than anything else and is desperate. Who can know it?

    Proverbs 28:26                    

26 Whoever trusts in his own heart is stupid, But the one who walks in wisdom will escape.

What are some of the thoughts you have while listening to music or watching your favorite movie? How is it effecting your overall mood at that particular time? Some music might take you to a nice fairy tail land or paradise like setting in your mind. While others might make you think of dark and sinister settings, doom/gloom type stuff. Movies and tv provide the picture, no need for imagination, unless you tend to picture yourself in some of those movies or scenes with actors. See where im going with this? Our minds can go on tangents, one second we might be cleaning the fridge but our minds might be in lala land with our loved ones or thinking about a nice hot-rod you saw.

Romans 12:2

And stop being molded by this system of things, but be transformed by making your mind over, so that you may prove to yourselves the good and acceptable and perfect will of God.

So lets drive this point on home shall we? Think about the things you where exposed to when you where growing up, remember how it effected you? What about the kids you know in your life now? Do you do your best to be a good influence on the young ones of this generation? I would hope the answer would be yes, with no hesitation. If not, consider some more wholesome ways to spend time with your loved ones young or even old. Just because you grew up in a different generation doesn't mean you dont have any effect on someone elses life. In fact, we all can benefit from one another in a variety of ways. I have found knowledge in the young and in the old. Just depends on if you are actually listening and paying attention.

Proverbs 4:7

Wisdom is the most important thing, so acquire wisdom, And with all you acquire, acquire understanding.

Ecclesiastes 9:16

And I said to myself: ‘Wisdom is better than mightiness; yet a poor man’s wisdom is despised, and his words are not heeded.’

Just felt like putting in this pic, kinda liked it.

I’ll leave off with saying that us as humans are very fragile and impressionable. We tend to overlook the real problems and overthink the insignificant ones. Spending more time in a fake world, rather than participating in the one right in front of us. We are shaped and molded by the world in which we live, what we see and do are a direct result of all our past experiences and the current situations we find ourselves in today. So, instead of listening to that rapper talk about how much money he has or playing that video game that comes out every year with the exact same premise as the last, shoot this guy to get to the next objective. How about we take some time to read a good book (I could think of a REAL good one) have deep conversations with people, go out sight seeing or just something that doesn't involve an internet connection/tv. Even if just for a little bit, to keep you grounded in reality, which is something im still trying to master too, so don’t feel bad lol.

Proverbs 24:19

Do not be upset because of evil men; Do not envy wicked people,

Ecclesiastes 8:14

There is something futile that takes place on the earth: There are righteous people who are treated as if they had acted wickedly, and there are wicked people who are treated as if they had acted righteously. I say that this too is futility.

One last thing, i will leave some links to other videos and websites that could give father info on the effects of the entertainment we watch. Keep in mind that this blog is only intended to help people discern or to challenge ones previously held beliefs, i feel that its good to keep an open mind about spiritual matters. Also, this isnt real spiritual food either, yes it might give you better perspective but you still should be getting your spiritual food from the bible (Intended for believers). Thanks if you have reached this point, if you like it, dont forget to show it some love. :) Jahbless

(Videos And Websites)

How Porn Affects the Brain 

How Violence in the Media Effects Children 

Part 1 of 4: ex Occultist, Secret Society, Psychic, New Age, Spiritualist, Witchcraft( Pennie Reese)