#and i was getting ready to deal w paradoxes and then i was like wait a minute. there are no paradoxes. time isn't actually looping here

[yesokayiknow]

do you ever think about how one of doctor who's most famous time loop episodes (heaven sent) isn't a time loop. like the fact that time is passing normally is a huge plot point

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 1 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer meets a girl he can't get enough of at the nightclub, then quickly realizes she is not supposed to be there. 

A/N: This work deals with a lot of dark themes. There will be imperfect characters, and they will make mistakes. If you are sensitive, please read each chapter's content warnings carefully and alert me if I am missing any.

This work is undergoing heavy edits. Thank you for your patience!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: NSFW, 18+ Series Content Warnings: Adults w/ Age Difference (10yr), heavy petting, drinking Word Count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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There are many reasons to come to a nightclub. For some, it's an excuse to find someone to kill their loneliness. For others, it's a chance to escape themselves. I wasn't sure which I was more of that night. All I knew was that I was ready for something, anything to break the monotony.

The pulsing bass reverberated through the floor, and I let it take me somewhere else for a while. I let myself get lost in the crowd of other regrettable people, and I allowed my body to move on instinct, to move to the music without much thought.

It was my birthday, as evidenced by the giant sash my friends insisted on me wearing. If anyone were to ask, I had just turned 21. But, truthfully, I still had another year to go before then.

The strangest part about it was that I wasn't usually the kind of person to make a habit out of breaking the rules. At least, not anymore. But something about the last year had made me stir crazy in a way I couldn't explain.

I could've thought harder about it; I could've found a reason. But I didn't want to.

So, I said, fuck it! Everything happens for a reason, right?

The thought perfectly coincided with a pair of pensive eyes that caught my attention through the sea of people I was surrounded by. A man somehow unlike the others was leaning against the bar, seemingly alone. I thought that it was strange, considering how out of place he seemed. Surely, I thought, he must have come with someone else.

But the way he was looking at me told me that, in the very least, he probably wasn't there with a  woman. At least, I'd hoped not.

I almost went to him, but I was stopped by a familiar tapping on my shoulder. My friend was calling my attention to the suddenly relatively empty stage, and not before long she was begging me to join her on it.

I'd never been the best dancer, but I figured it was as good a way as any other to try to get a cute guy's attention. After all, that's what you do in a club, right? As I climbed up with her, I tried to spot him once more. Unfortunately, by the time I gracelessly clambered onto the stage, he'd  already moved from his previous position.

'Oh well,' I thought, 'Maybe he hadn't really been looking at me after all.'

Rather than sulking over the loss, I focused on the music again. I swayed my hips to the beat and closed my eyes. I let my hands run up and down my body the way I wished someone else's would. Not just anyone, though. Someone... different. Someone who might almost make me feel like they'd earned it.

I wondered if that strange man could still see me. I wondered if he was still looking.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when I glanced back to the bar for the fifth time in a relatively short period of time, I finally spotted him again. Once he noticed me noticing him, he quickly turned around, and I knew it was my chance.

I scrambled down off the stage, leaving my friends to enjoy themselves among the writhing bodies and blistering heat. I wanted to enjoy a different primal experience.

Strutting right up to the bar next to him, I leaned over the counter and gave a brief, respectful wave to the bartender. Despite not breaking my gaze, I felt the hairs rose on the back of my neck.

I'd caught someone's attention. I didn't look, though. Not yet.

"Gin and tonic, please," I called when the bartender finally made his way over to me. Once he turned back around to make the drink, I knew it was a good time to look over at the stranger beside me.

Unsurprisingly, he immediately pretended he wasn't looking at me.

"Are you checking me out?" I asked just loudly enough that he would undoubtedly be able to hear me over the music.

His embarrassed reaction answered the question in the affirmative, although he unconvincingly insisted, "U-uh, no. No, I'm not."

"Oh," I responded, moving closer to him to prevent someone from separating us. "That's too bad."

He furrowed his eyebrows, and a small smile broke across his face as he asked, "Is it?"

"Well... Yeah," I laughed.

The way we locked eyes was a challenge, and one he seemed to only half accept. When he looked away from my eyes, it felt less like admitting defeat and more like taking me up on the offer to check me out.

He glanced down at my chest, and I moved from my position leaning against the counter to open my chest up for a better view.

"Can you see it well enough?" I teased with a slow gesture down the sash. I couldn't tell if his face was as red as it looked or if it was just the flashing lights playing tricks on me.

The bartender returned before he answered, and I handed him my change as a tip before holding the drink with my hand over the top. I might have been young, but I wasn't trying to get drugged in a club. I tried not to read into him noticing that habit.

"Happy birthday."

His offering seemed genuine, and this time, it was my face that turned burned. I hoped he didn't notice how flustered such an innocent thing made me, but I had a feeling he did.

"How old are you now?" he followed up, and I realized that I didn't really want him to know. Not the truth, anyway. Still, something about the way his eyes scanned every motion I made just made me feel like he could tell if I was lying.

"A year older than the last."

It wasn't a lie, after all, and he seemed to think it was funny. Behind me, a person was struggling to fit into the crowd at the bar. The somewhat unwelcome result was pushing me closer to the stranger I was quickly becoming acquainted with. But thankfully, when he reached out, he did so respectfully. His grip on my arm was gentle, but enough to stabilize my obviously struggling self.

"Thanks," I said with a bit of a laugh, trying not to seem dramatically inexperienced at this scene. "I'm not used to wearing heels."

He seemed so comfortable despite the chaos. So paradoxically confident yet timid.

"What's your name?" I asked, and he was more than happy to respond.

"Dr. Spencer Reid."

Something was so charming about the way he kept his honorific, which would usually have been irritating. He didn't seem to want to brag about it. He'd just announced it like it was a deeply ingrained aspect of his identity.

"Doctor? You seem pretty young for that," I playfully noted. Not that I was bothered by the prospect of an older man. I sipped on my drink as I waited for a bit of clarification, and his eyes continued to flit back to my lips every couple of syllables.

"Well, if you're talking about a Doctor of Medicine, I'm 30, which is actually the average age a person would be when they complete their residency. But most people with MDs will call themselves doctors after they graduate, so really, I wouldn't be too young at all."

I nodded along as he spoke, wondering if this kind of information dump was common for him. It was... kind of endearing.

Before I could get a word in edgewise, he continued to clarify, "But I'm not that kind of doctor. I have three PhDs; mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. I also have a BA in psychology as well as sociology."

I waited another second to make sure he was finished, and also because I was suddenly feeling quite intimidated. His strange socialization method made sense with his PhD subjects, and the bachelor's explained why he was so observant.

Something told me he didn't need to be told he was impressive.

"What about you? What's your name?" he finally asked, and I realized I never told him my name.

"(Y/n). No honorifics, unfortunately. Not yet."

"(Y/n)," he smiled, repeating it back to me and adding, "It's a nice name."

Uncomfortable talking about myself in light of the foregoing, I opted for a different topic.

"You don't seem like this is your first time in a club."

"Yeah, it's not. I have to go to them occasionally for work. I also grew up in Vegas, so they were kind of... everywhere," he chuckled.

When he raised his glass to his lips, I noticed that the distinct lack of color to his. I didn't mention it. There were so many reasons someone would prefer water, assuming that's what it was, including the basic desire to not be hung over the next day.

"What kind of work regularly takes you to a nightclub?"

I was genuinely curious, but I wouldn't get the answer. At the same time I asked the question, I felt a very strong pressure digging into my arm and yanking me away from the bar.

"Hey there beautiful, why'd you leave the dance floor?"

I didn't even recognize the very drunk man slurring the question to me. He looked like every other generic, idiotic brute that I had encountered through the night.

"Because I don't want to fucking dance with you," I answered as matter-of-factly as I could while seeing nothing but white-hot rage. 

I could see Spencer's demeanor change, like he was about to do something. I shot him a warning glance that this was not his fight, and was pleasantly surprised that he'd respected it. I had gotten quite comfortable with this part of being out on the town.

"Come on, don't be like that," the man barked.

I pulled my arm away. Half of my drink sloshed onto the sticky floor below, but I didn't care. I wasn't going to be drinking it now, anyway.

"I said no," I said in a much louder voice, lifting my foot high enough for it to hurt when I drove the pointed heel directly into his foot. "And don't fucking touch me!"

Before I could throw what was left of my drink onto the asshole, I felt Spencer's much gentler touch. His arm wrapped around my waist as he stepped between me and the man and hurriedly guided me away from the guy and to a nearby table. As soon as I could reach it, I climbed onto a chair at the high top, rubbing my arm where it had begun to raise in welts from his nails.

"What a fucking dick!" I yelled, still fuming from the unwelcome contact.

In stark contrast, Spencer's very warm hand cupped my face, tilting it to look up at him.

"Are you alright?"

It felt like time stopped when he looked at me. Like the earth had halted in its tracks. My perception of the otherwise energetic music seemed to slow down, and the sounds of the crowd drowned away. I wasn't able to focus on anything other than the pounding of my heart and that tried to break through bone cages to find him.

'God, I must be drunk.'

"Hey, are you okay?" he repeated, and I finally snapped back to reality.

With a simple nod, I was suddenly no longer angry at the asshole who had caused the moment to happen.

"Yeah," I mumbled, "Thanks."

"Does that happen to you often?" he asked with a strange mixture of concerned and angry that honestly looked pretty damn attractive on him.

"Unfortunately. Most guys don't like being told they aren't your type. Especially if they aren't used to it."

"I wouldn't know," Spencer shrugged with a gentle laugh, "I'm pretty used to it."

A welcome bit of self-deprecating humor. He moved his hand, and I hated to admit that I'd already missed the warmth of it.

"Well, I don't know why you're used to it. I think you're pretty cute."

The statement was fueled by the alcohol, but it was still true. He wasn't joking about being used to a lack of desire. Seconds after I'd complimented him, he shifted uncomfortably. I tried not to read too far into it. I hoped it was how he would've responded to anyone. 

"Thanks..." he started, shoving his hands in his pockets as he struggled to find something to do with them now that they weren't touching me. "But I feel like an asshole now."

I raised my eyebrows and chuckled at the strange response to a compliment.

"Why?"

"I uh, I lied to you earlier."

My attention piqued, I turned my body towards him and leaned forward to hear him better.

"Oh? To which question?"

He released a hand from his pocket, running it through his hair as he worked up the courage to look at me while he spoke.

"The... first one you asked."

I couldn't help but laugh. All of the air in my lungs was quickly drained by his absolutely endearing honesty. The way he just had to admit that he had been checking me out, as if I didn't already know.

"You are absolutely adorable, Spencer Reid."

He reacted much better to that compliment, although he seemed confused when I held my hand out for his.

"Come here," I instructed.

When he didn't listen, I reached my fingers out to grab his forearm and proceeded to tug him towards me. He took the few steps forward, and I took a moment to appreciate that his height granted me perfect access to his face from the high top.

I bit down on my lip as I glanced between beautiful eyes and his lips that parted softly. I heard his breath come faster the closer I came.

Without moving away, he asked, "What are you doing?"

While wondering if it was possible for him to do anything without being charming, I tightened my grip on his arm and looked up at him with the most lustful look I could muster.

"Well, I guess I'm going to kiss you. I hope that's alright."

"Why?" he asked.

An equally charming and maddening response, to which I just gave a small shrug. His eyes glanced back and forth, clearing trying to read between the lines of my own gaze. I let him. He didn't seem to have any follow up questions or reservations, so I used my free hand to pull his face to mine.

When our lips met, I was transported back to the dance floor in my mind. I could feel the vibrations shaking every inch of the club, but it was nothing compared to the butterflies erupting in my stomach. His hands returned to my face shortly after, and when his tongue slipped into my mouth it was the only confirmation that I got that he had also been drinking.

The taste of vodka and gin mixed, creating a cocktail of alcohol and hormones between us. A small moan escaped my lips at the thought, and part of me hoped he could feel it distinct from the bass. I wanted him to know the effect he had on me. Because, as it turned out, he wasn't just cute and smart, he was an incredibly talented kisser.

Not wanting to stop yet, I hooked a leg around the back of his knee and increased my hold on him. He lowered a hand to grab onto my thigh, and I gasped at the contact. I wondered if this was his first time making out in a club, because it was certainly mine.

Selfishly, I hoped I could be a first of something for him. Realistically, I knew it was unlikely. He was just too damn good at this.

Spencer began to retreat from the kiss, and before he could leave entirely, I bit down on his lower lip. The last, lingering contact seemed to have its desired effect, as he looked down at me like there was nothing else that he wanted more in this world than to keep kissing me.

"Was that a good enough reason?" I asked.

Instead of using words, he just kissed me again in response, with more pressure and less reserved. It was an answer I was more than happy to accept. His grip on my leg tightened, and it was nothing like the way other men grabbed me. When we broke apart this time, I knew it was time. I had to make my move.

"Come outside with me," I begged. 

He seemed not to have expected any invitation, especially such a vague one. Nonetheless, he nodded and stepped back enough to let me hop out of the chair. His hand in mine, I led him through the crowd. He never let go. Not even when we got outside.

The air felt cool and crisp in comparison to the stuffy club. My ears were still ringing, and I wondered if we would sound the same to each other now that we weren't practically screaming. I let out a laugh from pure nerves, excited to be alone with him, but also not really ready to have this conversation.

Of course, he thought I was cute, but I was still a stranger. What if he wasn't actually all that interested and decided to ditch me? That would be embarrassing.

"Heeeeyyy! (Y/n)! How's it going?!" A familiar voice sounded from over by the smokers.

It wasn't one of my friends, per se. More like a friend of a friend. A very drunk and very excited acquaintance. I finally let go of Spencer's hand but glanced back to let him know to follow me over.

I stayed at a  modest distance as I called back, "Hey, how's it going, John?"

"Goin' pretty fucking great," he slurred, and I laughed at how hammered he had managed to get in a couple of hours.

"Sounds like it."

"So, how's 20 treating you so far?"

Now, this is the point where I have to admit to myself and everyone else, that I am not the cleverest person. Because the question seemed so normal, and I was expecting it so much, that I seemed to have forgotten that I was not, in fact, old enough to be at this club.

So, without thinking, I responded, "Pretty fucking great."

To Spencer's credit, he didn't say anything, but I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull. It took me another second to realize what I had just admitted.

Fuck.

I was too scared to turn around. He seemed to know that I wasn't going to address it, and he wasn't the kind of person to make a scene. So when his hand grabbed mine again, and I felt the insistence in his grasp, I knew that I was utterly and completely fucked.

I grimaced to John, who just burst out laughing before yelling, "Oooh, jailbait got busted!"

My head fell backwards as I groaned, letting Spencer begin to drag me away from the crowd as I shouted back, "I'm not jailbait, you dick!"

Following the boy I actually wanted to be with, I tried not to give up hope yet. In a twisted sort of way, I was actually somehow looking forward to the lecture I was definitely about to receive. Seconds after we'd turned the corner into the small alley, he had me backed against a wall.

"What the fuck was that?!" his voice was hushed, although he was clearly still yelling.

I bit down on my lip to stop myself from laughing at his attempts to be scary when his voice was still cracking. I raised my shoulders to shrug, but he continued his ranting.

"You're only twenty?! You can't be here!"

"Well, actually, we're in an alley, which I'm totally allowed to be in."

He did not appreciate my humor.

"You know exactly what I mean. You're not old enough to be at a club, and especially not drinking! What were you thinking?"

He looked so delectable when he was angry, I wasn't sure how he'd expected me to take him seriously. Resting my head against the brick wall behind me, I looked up at him with a bored expression.

"What are you, a cop?"

I honestly wasn't anticipating a genuine response, so when he responded, "An FBI special agent, actually," all I could think was, "Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah, really, (y/n)!" he yelled back, taking a step back when my arms immediately fell from their defensive position.

"That's so cool!" I answered with equal enthusiasm, which he still, clearly, did not like.

"What are you saying? That is not cool! None of this is cool!"

"I mean, I think it's pretty cool."

"I could have you arrested! I should have you arrested!"

The way I raised my eyebrows and smiled was clearly not the reaction he wanted, but I could tell he was intrigued by it. He paused, and I licked my lips with a wicked grin.

"You gonna cuff me, Special Agent?"

I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and he continued to distance himself from me. I took a step forward to maintain the gap.

"Wait, is it Special Agent or Doctor? I need to know now."

Before I could get too close to him, he had pressed his hand against my shoulder, pushing me back against the wall. 

"Cut it out! Stop trying to distract me," his voice was stern, but his breath was ragged. One of my hands devilishly snuck up, wrapping around his arm that was holding me against the wall. "It's not going to work," he warned.

I didn't believe him. I could also tell that, despite the words, he did not want me to stop.

"How am I distracting you, Special Agent Dr. Reid?"

He could tell what I was doing, but he couldn't stop himself from falling for it.

"Is my proximity distracting you?"

I was pushing his buttons, very purposefully and with a very specific goal. I wanted to see what happened when he broke.

"N-No, that's not—"

I cut him off once more, leaning forward against his hand, dragging my nails against the skin of his arm.

"Do you want to kiss me again?" I asked.

He had to think about the answer, and that angry, tempted face left me burning. I rubbed my legs together in anticipation, and he seemed to notice the subtle movement. With the strength I could muster, I inched his hand against my shoulder lower, letting him feel my heart racing above my breast.

"You do," I responded to my own question, recognizing his silence as assent.

I met his eyes in another challenge, knowing this time would be much easier than the last. He was already hooked.

"Well then, Dr. Reid. You have at least two options. You can either dig out your work issued handcuffs, haul me downtown and explain what exactly happened between you and a drunk twenty year old girl at the club..." the pressure on my chest lessened as he obviously considered what it would require of him. "You can help them with all of the paperwork, prematurely ending the night, leaving me in a jail, and go home alone... "

The compassion in his eyes was clear, and I knew it was a bit unfair of me to go for such low hanging fruit. He was a good man. He was just trying to follow the rules. He didn't want to hurt me. Unless I asked for it, perhaps.

"Or you can get into an Uber with me to go somewhere else, and I'll let you do whatever you want with mine. Or yours. I'm fine with either."

"My pair, or my place?" he asked, much to my surprise and excitement. I could feel the rush of blood in my ears, but I begged it to be quiet. I hadn't closed the deal yet.

"So you're considering it?"

He finally released his hold on me, but he didn't move away. In fact, he moved closer. Close enough to me that I could almost feel the body warmth radiating from him. I couldn't look down yet, but I was pretty sure what I'd find bulging between his legs.

"I-I... I don't know."

An honest answer, albeit disappointing. My puppy eyes demanded a clearer one. He obeyed their call.

"I'm a law enforcement agent that just caught you in a crime, since I'm assuming you got into that club with a relatively convincing fake ID that I'm certain you still have on you."

I nodded, still unsure where he was going with this monologue.

"I should be arresting you, or at least taking you somewhere safe, not... coming back with you for..."

He trailed off, and I smirked a bit at his inability to finish that thought.

"And yeah, I figured you were young but... I'm ten years older than you."

"And?" I finally asked, wanting him to get to the point that I had figured out, just so I could turn it down.

Spencer took a deep breath before admitting, "I don't want to take advantage of you. I get that there is no sudden change in your brain when you turn twenty one, but the younger you are, the less developed your prefrontal cortex is. Your judgment, your impulse control, the ability to truly anticipate the consequences of your actions, that won't be fully developed for at least another five years!"

He would have kept going, but I had already planned for this response. My hand on his arm jerked him forward, pulling his crotch directly into my other waiting hand. Completely on brand for him, a small yelp sounded as I gently palmed his erection.

With an innocent smile, I whispered, "Dr. Reid, I don't think you're the one taking advantage here."

His features were contorted into an infuriated, yet pleased mess. After another very brief moment of contemplation, he gave into the temptation I was dangling in front of him, laying a deep, frustrated kiss on my waiting mouth.

When we separated, he practically panted into my mouth, "Do you have a hotel room?"

Giggling, I nodded.

"I guess I'll call that Uber now."

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| Part 2 |

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

Hey! I am asking for advice. I fucked up a few years ago at the telling apart ghosts and gods and would rather not go through that again. Could you help me out? I really want to get back into it but that was a very bad experience so I'm anxious. Thank you!!

Anon, I love this question and if you're willing to drop some more details in my inbox, anon or not, please do. I'm sorry that you had such a bad experience, but take heart, maybe, that everybody does this at SOME point, and taking a few years off to process is actually a pretty snappy turnaround time.

(spooky occult people only pls)

(scroll along, the rest of you)

It IS a tricky question, though.

Tough love up front: there is no entirely safe, entirely pleasant way to do magic. Fundamentally magic is transformative and therefore often uncomfortable. There's fears and negative emotions to work through, and there's also just some straight up tedium and drudgery, and no matter how cool you are, no matter how sure you feel about your place in the grand scheme of the universe, you will eventually question everything and get some things wrong. There will not only always be risk: sooner or later there will be pain.

But! Is it worth it? ABSOLUTELY, anon, and I'm not gonna try to persuade you because if you're asking, you've already made up your mind. You just want to not make the same mistakes over again. You want to make brand new mistakes! It is the only way to move forward.

There is a difference between the merely uncomfortable and the truly dangerous, so ultimately it's a game of knowing when fear is a just a trial to get through versus when fear is a warning keeping you safe. The first time I tried to answer this question I made a quick list of protections, but that's not really the issue. You're wiser than that. You're asking about something diagnostic.

Discernment is the greatest occult skill and one that’s difficult to quantify. It's one of those paradoxes of inexperience, nigh impossible to hone without practice, yet a skill you need in order to get out there and practice.

whatever your prior experience was: what did you learn from it? what was the point where you started to feel something went wrong? identifying that moment, how it felt, how you felt it, will help you more than anything I or anyone else can tell you.

I am, honestly, not the best person to describe how to increase your psychic sensitivity or whatever. The good news, maybe, is that you don't have to be great at discernment before you start. Yes, you can put all your effort into sharpening your senses before you even go out there, which is a noble way of doing it and maybe it will eventually even work, OR—you can put on some safety gear and wade out into the swamp wearing your little floaties so that you don't sink.

Your metaphorical swimming wings here are protections and banishments and the preemptive assistance of something bigger than you on your side. This answer is mostly going to focus on that last part, because "ghosts and gods" implies, I think, that you are ready to work with gods, or at least eager, which is, like, at least half of the process.

However, even then, I do wanna say—while I don't want to discount your negative experiences at all! I don't know anything about them, but I'm sure it was awful!—you, all by yourself, can probably banish most ghostly things you're likely to run into. There's a lotta bark, and usually not that much bite. I wrote up some less formal banishing methods and posted them here on ye old witch blogge, but really, you can mostly just yell at stuff to leave.

(there is a fair amount of repetition between this post and that one! I apologize. I mostly typed these late at night over the course of several days)

Now! Assistance. An ounce of prevention vs a pound of cure and it’s good to pack light.

So much of magic across time and cultures is about negotiating with spirits of some flavor or another. Maybe it's worship or maybe it's bindings or maybe it's strictly transactional, but as beings made of flesh we are forever making pacts with beings made of something else, and hey, it usually works.

The complication here is that the distinction between ghosts and gods maybe isn't that simple. Mess with the wording a little and Catholic saints are basically both. And so are some orisha, some loa, and so on. Baron Samedi (lord of the cemetery, best bang since the big one, etc etc etc) in particular, out of the vodou pantheon, may or may not have been human once, depending on who you ask.

Further: the most readily available spooky occult forces you have are your ancestors. So you'd file that under ghosts, maybe, except that with ancestral veneration practices and all, we inch closer to god territory, in a sense. At least—the rituals start looking the same from an outside perspective. Santeria, Vodou, Epiritismo and many more practices that the ones I'm familiar with involve working with your ancestors to accomplish your worldly goals. We don't consider them ghosts when we work with them; that's not the word we use. But arguably—why not?

So the trick here isn't necessarily how to sort ghosts from gods as much as it is to hang out with some NICE (to you) ghosts and/or gods.

How do you do that?

If you have a good relationship with your ancestors, then you start there. If you, like me, or lots of other long disowned and disinherited magicians, have a disconnect there, then—welp. Consider getting over it by going back further in the family tree (this is what you will inevitably eventually do). Somewhere in there you have someone kind, I promise. But that's not advice I could have followed ten years ago, so I'll get to the alternative in a minute. Let's assume, for the moment, that you accept the logic that your ancestors have a vested interest in protecting their line, and in fact having an active magic user willing to work with them probably makes their afterlives much easier.

There's tons of guides online about how to work with your ancestors. I think sincere, unstructured prayer and a glass of water are the simplest and most powerful of offerings. A candle, if you have one. Just flipping on a lamp or a light switch if you don't.

(I travel with a little LED tealight and a mala made of skull beads carved from ox bone, but I am unnecessarily spooky and dramatic. If anything, my ancestors prefer the plain obsidian mala I first started with. But the aesthetic.)

I'm very, very informal in my ancestral practice. It still works.

Tell them you want to establish a working connection, talk to them about what's going on in your life. Keep it short and don't worry about whether or not you feel anything yet. It might take weeks before you feel something, and that's okay—discernment is, like I've said, the most important but also hardest skill, and it usually takes time and repetition. Offer them something—anything, really, and honestly the plain glass of water is traditional—and ask for their protection. They will almost certainly give it to you.

"But Flowers," you might say. "Fuck that and fuck 'em. I'm not ready to fuck with my family yet."

Alright, little one! I feel ya. It took me ages to warm up to the idea. I promise that it's worth it when you're ready, but having covered ghosts, let's move on to

GODS

Step one: ask yourself if you need to fuck around with gods in the first place.

Step two: fuck around and find out.

Step three varies depending on who you're looking for. There is a great deal of anxiety about this in occult circles, especially among people who use the term "baby witch." People are terrified of making the wrong choice. They want it to be PERFECT. They want to be correct. "Who is calling me?" ask a thousand seekers, across forums and places. "I saw a butterfly the other day. IS IT A SIGN?"

(shit, dude, I dunno, probably not, but potentially maybe. Nobody can know but you. just keep in mind that butterflies etc exist on their own and go around doing their own thing and this has absolutely nothing to do with you the vast majority of the time)

You don't need to be wait to be called by a god to offer worship and/or develop a working relationship. I would argue that most people aren't really called, and if you are, you will KNOW. Tumblr likes to say gods need consent and I think that's fucking hilarious. There is no folkloric precedent for that. If you are Called, capital letter Called, you will know, and whatever happens next is between you whatever bizarre shamanic experience you end up having, because you WILL have it, good luck.

But probably that's not the issue here! Moving on with our hypothetical.

You're not waiting around for divine intervention. You're being proactive. You're not waiting for The Call, or even a mild call. How do you choose what god you're petitioning for protection? I doubt you're entirely neutral about it. You probably have a god you identify with or just find really friggin cool. That's a fine and dandy place to start.

The working relationship need not be forever.

Which brings me to my next point. If you are absolutely undecided about what direction to go in, consider going to one of the liminal gods. Your crossroads gods, your messenger gods, often trickster gods. Your between spaces gods. Your portal opening gods.

In Santeria and Vodou, which I keep on referring back to because those are the systems I was raised in, your messenger gods get called very early on in the ritual. Why? To open the way for everybody else. There's a suggestion here that certain gods are closer or more easily reached, so if you want an opener—ask somebody with keys, yeah?

(also technically there's spirits called before then like the rhythm/dance/drums but let's not complicate things. Broadly speaking: key holding gods first)

Catholic saints wise, you've got Saint Peter, right? Santeria has Elegua. Vodou has Legba. Vodou also has the Baron as a crossroads god and yer liminal spaces god and sometimes he also has keys and hey by the way, he's really great, but where was I?

Hermes is another option. Mercury.

There's a bunch of American indigenous options I don't know enough about to confidently say.

SPEAKING of indigenous american, right, there's always Quetzalcoatl—technically—sky god, wind god, messenger god.

There's Odin and I'm actually a big fan, but the Norse magic community is often kind of garbage these days because we've got too many nazis running around, which is a shame.

My point is: there's gonna be somebody who feels close, either because of your cultural background or your aesthetic, and you might as well ask.

Settle down. Call their name. Offer water and a prayer and ask for protection, tell them what it is you want to do, ask for their help on this new life journey.

Worship isn't really complicated unless you want it to be.

Again, don't worry about "feeling" anything. Don't expect anything dramatic. Just offer something, every day or every week or whenever you have the time and headspace for it. Do the motions and mean it even a little bit and with time the rest shall come.

Because EVENTUALLY, you will feel something. It will probably be a mild sense of peace. The ritual feels calming. Something about it feels cozy. Presence is often subtle, but that counts.

Once you feel solidly good about your ritual, I would say that means you have at least some degree of protection, and it's time to wade around the swamp and see what's up. What do you do next? I dunno! I don't know what your goals are! But you have your ancestors at your back, or you're on a god team, or maybe BOTH—go explore!

Confidence isn't everything. But confidence, my friend, is a LOT. There's more to it, of course, but especially early on: fake it till you make it and dream it and you'll be it.

Best of luck, anon. <3

[gegenji]

(Chachanji Gegenji) Saint Fathric's was usually a pretty serene and idyllic location, out and away. Perfect for tasty grasses for sheep or playing hide-and-seek. Very serene. However, that serenity was somewhat marred by the racket that seemed to be coming from below the lip of the cliff. Scratching, scraping, rumbling, and the sounds of rocks cascading into the lake below. And some low whining. (Chachanji Gegenji) "Do I -hafta- climb it thi' way? 'm sure there's gotta be a better way fer me ta get up there..." Silence. "Well, yeah, thi' DOES make it easier but..." A shorter beat. "N-no no no, thi' is fine! I dun need more!"

(Metarutaru Koradrixl) An unhelmed dwarf would begin his survey around Saint Fathric's. Concerning reports have mentioned of a powerful monster causing quite a bit of trouble for Il Mheg and even the Outskirts of Lakeland, so he's taken up the job to defeat this creature for the citizens' safety... and the money of course, can't forget that. (Metarutaru Koradrix) "Whew! Quite the climb! Shame I couldn't bring Gidgett with me, but she oughta be fine waiting back at Lakeland." (Metarutaru Koradrix) "Now where is that thing..."

(Chachanji Gegenji) The scrabbling and scratching would continue to grow louder until a rather sizable hand crested the lip of the cliff face to dig for purchase into the dirt and grass above. Followed shortly by the rest of a rather oversized-looking Lalafell (or helmetless Dwarf, here on the first) pulling himself up and flopping down in the dirt. "Ugh. Agh."

(Metarutaru Koradrixl) Hearing a voice that... definitely doesn't sound like a monster, but louder than he expected nonetheless, would turn to the source of the voice. "Lali-WHAT!?" He would be shocked at the sight! A Giant Dwarf! A contradiction if he ever heard one! Perhaps that is the monster causing all the mayhem! He'd have a hand on his weapon, ready to attack as he moved closer... (Metarutaru Koradrix) "What in all of Norvandt...?"

(Chachanji Gegenji) Whatever the oversized creature was, it was breathing heavily from its exertions. Which ended in a long, rumbling groan as it pushed itself up and into a seated position with a very upset look on its face.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Well! Part of me feels it's hardly sporting to fight a monster that seems ready to keel over on it's own, but regardless!" He hops down from the rock. "Lali-Ho to you, ya foul experiment gone wrong! When I heard something was terrorizing citizens, I didn't know it was some-one-!"

(Chachanji Gegenji) Those large, long ears wiggled at the voice and he looked about. "H-huh? Someone's already found th' monster?" the understandably monsterously-sized figure mused in surprise - failing to notice the Dwarf as he clambered up to his feet to look around for where the beastie might be. Not entirely realizing that the Dwarf had been talking to him.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Hey! Don't you go ignoring me, you overgrown hunk of slag! And don't play dumb either! Course the monster's been found. I'm lookin' at ya right now!" He'd claim to the giant with a huff under his breath. To be looked down upon by another dwarf, and literally, no less!

(Chachanji Gegenji) Those long ears wiggled again, and the paradoxical giant dwarf finally had the sense to -look down- and see the other figure not even thirty fulms away from him. "... Oh hey, I didn't think I'd see 'nother Lalafell out thi' way!" he stated in surprise, kneeling down to get a better look at him. "Ya sayin' somethin' 'bout how ya found th' monster?"

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Whaddya mean If I found the monst- YOU! You're the monster! And what the heck is a Lalafell anyway! Eesh, whatever those pixies did to you must've warped your brain too! Don't worry, poor, corrupted Dwarf. I'll put ya out of your misery caused by those troublemakers, yeah?" He felt a bit bad about it. Poor guy must've been subjected to such horrible pixie magics to have them do his bidding and such.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "M-me...?" Chachan echoed, pointing to himself before scooting back a half-step as the pieces clicked into place. Which was a decent distance, comparatively. "A-ah! N-no no no! 'm-m not a monster! Honest!" He waved his hands out wildly in front of himself as if that would clear the air between them in a figurative sense.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Riiight, and I'm the bleeding Crystal Exarch!" He shook his head. "You're as tall as a small hill, when I got reports of a monster terrorizing the folks of Lakeland and Il Mheg." He looks around. "And I don't see anything else that would qualify as monstrous here! So what would that make you, hm?" (Metarutaru Koradrix) the Dwarf seemed a bit unconvinced at the scared giant dwarf/monster's claim.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "I-I dun ev'n know who tha' is!" he stammered back. "'n-n I haven't ev'n been outside'a Il Mheg! 'm tryin' ta find th' creature too! 's-s why 'm up 'ere!" He looked about wildly. "Gria! W-where'd ya go? A lil' help!" There was a flash of light and a delighted giggle and the oversized beast started getting LARGER. "N-not like tha', Gria!"

(Metarutaru Koradrix) He jumped back a bit. "Oh! Going to make it a challenge I see! You and that twisted little master of yours are going to have to go down!" He bangs upon his chest a few times to psych himself up, ready to take down this threat!

(Chachanji Gegenji) "'m-m not tryin' ta challenge anythin'!" the now excessively large Lalafell rumbled out, stumbling back another couple steps - the ground cracking dangerously beneath him as he neared the cliff edge.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Well, you'd better explain yourself, or I'll gladly find out if cowards float!" He got up the rock to be able to be somewhat closer to face level with the giant... though it's not by much.

(Chachanji Gegenji) Despite the obvious size difference between the two, the much larger one seemed very visibly upset by all this. "'m-m tryin' ta! Y-ya jus' dun believe me!" Seeing the dwarf clamber up onto the rock, he sat down to try to be closer to eye level. Hopefully so they could converse better and reach an understanding. "'m-m not normally thi'... big! Gria thought it'd be th' best way fer me ta get up 'ere ta find th' -actual- monster!" (Chachanji Gegenji) The ground rumbled dangerously again as that much Lalafell settled into a seated position (Chachanji Gegenji) ... Of course, even atop the rock, the dwarf was only up to the oversized fellow's knees.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Hey! Mind not taking the entire mountain with ya!?" He almost lost his balance for a moment. "Look... You can't really blame me for thinking you're the monster. No Dwarf is as big as a hill!" He decides to sit down. "Alright, be level with me here. What's the deal, yeah? Who are ya, what is this Lalafell you're talking about when we're clearly Dwarves... at least you -Look- like one."

(Chachanji Gegenji) "A-ah! S-sorry!" he yelped, reaching out to try and catch the dwarf before hesitating and instead drawing into himself. Trying to stay as still as possible. He looked... honestly hurt. Ready to cry even. "I-I know thi' ain't normal..." he whimpered, another odd sound coming from someone of his stature. "'m-m Chachanji. 'n... um... I thought WE was Lalafell..." He motioned between the two of them. "Th-though I guess ya call us Dwarves ov'r 'ere in North Rant?" (Chachanji Gegenji) "Gria kept callin' me one too."

(Metarutaru KoradrixCoeurl) Now he just felt bad. Fighting a monster is supposed to be a fearsome, angry, and dangerous encounter!.... Not this. "Okay okay, no need to start with the waterworks. Il Mheg's got enough water with the Fuath in the lake." He shook his head. "So, Chachanji yeah? Definitely not a Dwarf name I've heard of before. Yeah, in -Norvandt-, we're known as Dwarves, as opposed to... Lah-lah-fell? from wherever you're from... Must've been somewhere real far out there before the whole Flood." He ponders.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "Flood?" he echoed curiously to himself, trying to both quiet his sniffling and also think of any floods he knew of. The one that came to mind was, of course, the one his brother spoke of - the flood that ended the War of the Magi. The Lalafell on this side of the world had been over here THAT long? Chachan looked honestly impressed as he rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. "A-ah, I-I 'spose so. Pretty far 'way. Th' pixies brought me 'ere ta play." (Chachanji Gegenji) "'n help 'em wit monsters 'n stuff... w-which 's why I came up 'ere."

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Well... if that's really the case... Pixies do have a habit of messing with anyone and everyone. The fact that they didn't flat out turn you into a leafman or leave you lost forever is, honestly impressive on its own! So, what's say we start over, Chachanji. I'm Koratt, formerly of the Tholl tribe. I'd shake your hand but uh, your hand would crush my whole body... So a proper Lali-ho will suffice!"

(Chachanji Gegenji) "A-ah... I-I think they have more fun makin' me huge like thi'..." he stated, rubbing at the back of his neck. Their interest in that - and his reactions to it - were probably what was keeping them FROM turning him into a leafman. At the comment of the handshake issue, he raised a hand and waved it worriedly. "A-ah, I wouldn't crush ya! H-honest!" Though, seeing Koratt seemingly more keen to do this... custom, he tried to mimic it back. "'s-s nice ta meetcha, Mr. Koratt."

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Well! It's good to meet ya! Sorry about the uh... threatening to kill ya thing. And Shoot, if you're here to fight the monster too... I'd have no qualms 'bout working together! So long as you make sure I don't wind up like dirt under your boot, yeah? Don't want my life to end by an accident."

(Chachanji Gegenji) "'s-s fine, honest..." Chachan admitted, though his smile was a sad one. "'s-s not s'prisin' folks'd think 'm... w-well... a monster." He shook his head as if to dismiss the gloom from his mind and gave a bit warmer smile. "O-oh, ah, sure thin'! 'd be up fer workin' t'gether. 'n-n I ain't gonna step on a new friend! O-or anyone, fer tha' matter."

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Hey, if you wanna step on the monster I'm all for it! So! Let's see if we can't find this critter causing trouble in Il Mheg, Chachanji!" He nods, eager to lend a hand now that this prior confusion is dealt with... and hey, if they're busy messing around with him, here's hoping the Pixies won't start messing with him too! That'd be troublesome otherwise.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "W-well... i-if'n I hafta..." the oversized pacifist stated, lifting the dwarf up on his glove as he got to his feet. Which incidentally gave Koratt a pretty good vantage point to look around for where the creature would be. Being this high up was pretty handy! "I-I honestly dun like hurtin' anyone, but we can't let some monster go 'round hurtin' others neither..."

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "The way I see it, a bit of violence be necessary to keep the peace! Specially the way things have been now that all that corruption's going down! People and critters getting rowdy now that the end of the world isn't really coming to pass and whatnot. Still wishin' I can thank the folks who did all that work to fix things in Norvandt..." He let out a sigh, but he seemed content. "Now then!... Hmm... little critter, where would I hide if I were it...." Metarutaru Koradrix looks around.

(Chachanji Gegenji) Chachan blinked at that. The corruption was probably those Sin Eater things he'd help chase off now and then. Like ashkin or voidsent, really. But end of the world? Maybe that whole Bahamut thing had ramifications all the way out here? The oversized Lalafell shook his head. Now wasn't the time to worry too much about that. "R-right, th' monster, um..." He looked about too, scanning around from his sizeable vantage point for wherever this ACTUAL monster had gotten off to. (Chachanji Gegenji) "... Mebbe in those ruins ov'r there?" He pointed with his free hand.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Ah! That's as good a spot as any! Could be there or maybe hiding in a cave nearby or something. being all sneaky and whatnot, you know?" Metarutaru Koradrix nods to you.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "Ah, if'n they're in a cave then 'm gonna have pro'lems if'n Gria keeps bein' a meanie." The Lalafell would quickly regret those words, as the Pixie in question didn't take too kindly to being called a 'meanie.' "Maybe ye need ta be as big as yer mouth!" came an irate chime from up by Chachanji's ear. The oversized Lalafell panicked as more magic was pumped into him, covering his new friend carefully in both hands until it was over. When it was, Koratt had a much higher viewpoint. (Chachanji Gegenji) "'n ev'n moreso now," he sighed, moving quickly away from the cliff edge as it groaned worrisomely under his bulk. (Chachanji Gegenji) Once at the ruins - which was a matter of a few steps at this scale - he set his new companion down gently in front of it.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Ah jeez! Whatever is causing you to grow, mind telling her to slow it down some? You're gonna break everything the way you keep growing, villages included!" He shook his head a she was set down. "Hmm... Least we're both in one piece. Anyhow!" He would move in closely and would see the ruins. "Hmmm.." He'd take a small bag inhand toss it in the ruins, before keeping hidden behind the wall. The bag would pop and something that seemed sparkly would fly about in the ruins... (Metarutaru Koradrix) (A Glitter-like material! cuz it's always so hard to get that off of ya. Easy to find invisible folk with it! (Metarutaru Koradrix) well, if it's there!)

(Chachanji Gegenji) "'s-s Gria, sorry," he stated quietly as he gently settled down into a seated position to keep watch from outside the ruins. Even seated he could see a fair bit, and trying to help with the search would likely cause more harm than good until he at least convinced his upset pixie friend to get him back down to more manageable sizes.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) Looking carefully in, among the glitter there would be juuust a few specks of the glitter not on the ground or on the ruins walls, but instead floating... a tad unnaturally at that! "There you are, you sneaky little bugger..." Meta mutters and looks to his new giant friend and gives a nod to confirm something is indeed in there! He can't see it though aside from the specks of glitter on it, and wonders. "Does your magic mumbo-jumbo let you see it?" He'd ask.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "A-ah, I jus'... get big. If'n it's hidin', ya can prolly find it better'n I can..." he admitted. "I can... um... try'n spook it out by movin' th' rubble 'round or somethin'?" (Chachanji Gegenji) He likely could also just crush it at this size, but he didn't seem too keen on pointing that out. Not without knowing what it was first - if it was a sin eater or an ashkin or something, sure. But if it was a living thing - or, worse, another person - he wanted to try and avoid outright killing it if possible.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Hmm... Nah. you're big, so tell ya what, let's figure out what it is. If it really is a monster or not, I'm gonna draw it out. If it's dangerous, we get rid of it, if it ain't we'll see if we can't catch it and find a better way to deal with it! The Nu Mou are good with magic and might be able to help pacify it if we catch it, if it's worth saving."

(Chachanji Gegenji) "A-ah, so 'm on catchin' duty then?" the Lalafell asked with a sudden bright eagerness at the thought of capture over killing, shifting in his positioning so he was on all fours. "I-I'll do me best!" Somewhere nearby, Gria couldn't help but laugh at this visual of an oversized Lalafell hunkered down in front of the mouth of the ruins like a cat at a mouse-hole.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) Koratt ran in and cause a ruckus, letting out a burst of energy. It would be successful in revealing what was hiding in there, and Indeed it was indeed their quarry! A sin eater, and a Bear-sized one at that! Which compared to Koratt would be large indeed. "Ah-ha! There you are, you little bugger! You're done hurtin' the Lakeland folk!” (Metarutaru Koradrix) Koratt would move out of the ruins, the Bear-like sin eater following angrily, but it would only make it easier for Chachanji to assist once out!

(Chachanji Gegenji) Chachan started to lunge when Koratt was the first one out, but noted it was his friend just in time to hesitate - hand over the doorway but letting him go past. Due to that, however, when the sin eater came out right on his heels, he was too slow and the hand slammed down right behind the beast as it chased after the dwarf!

(Metarutaru Koradrix) With the hand behind the bear, Koratt is confident! The monster can't get away now! He smirks and charges the bear, using aetherical energy to slam into it hard, and knocking the sin-bear into the giant Dwarf's hand!

(Chachanji Gegenji) The sin eater crashes into the oversized Lalafell's thumb, and he's quick to rotate that hand and completely engulf the beast in it. It's like he's holding a guinea pig rather than a huge bear monster. His grip isn't super tight, and the beast wriggles and flails against him - clawing and biting at those large fingertips. Chachan winces in pain, but refuses to let go! (Chachanji Gegenji) "Th-thi' looks like a sin eater!" he states the obvious.

(Metarutaru Koradrix) Wouldn't be able to get a good clean shot at the bear as he'd like, due to the creature's wriggling and writhing. He'd get a swipe in, but the bear's struggling would get him hit with it's hindpaw, sending him back quite a bit. "Ack!"

(Chachanji Gegenji) "A-ah! Koratt!" Chachan yelps in alarm at his new friend being backhanded (or backpawed?) like that. Distracted by it, the sin eater gets a solid CHOMP on his thumb and the oversized Lalafell yelps and loosens his grip just enough that it's able to wriggle free!

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Grr! I ain't letting some bear make a meal of me!" He gets back up and would charge at the now freed bear! Taking a blocked hit from the sword, it pushed him back a bit and winced, but he went right back in and fought the creature tit-for-tat. thanks to the struggle earlier from their teamwork, it wouldn't be able to keep up and eventually fell, though Koratt was quite winded and a fair bit hurt too. "Hah....hah... Whew... Sin Eaters always are, quite something..."

(Chachanji Gegenji) Chachan wanted to assist in the scrap but the two were too interlocked with each other for him to get a blow without risking hitting his companion as well. His hand hovered nervously back and forth trying to find an opening until the stalwart dwarf got the final blow in.  As the beast slumped to the ground, Chachan shook his hand before lightly suckling on his bit thumb to numb the pain some. Given the size difference, it hadn't broken skin but that monster's jaws had PINCHED it pretty good. (Chachanji Gegenji) Given the creature was a soulless husk like an ashkin, and leaving any chance of it still able to move could result in his new friend or someone else being further harmed - or infected! Chachan only felt a twinge of regret for the life the bear once had before its transformation before he slammed a fist down into it, tendrils of white smoke curling up around the impact. (Chachanji Gegenji) "Th-there," he added as a bit of lame finality before looking to his friend. "A-are ya akay, Koratt?"

(Metarutaru Koradrix) Koratt winces a bit at the sight of the crushed sin eater, full glad he is on his side and actually didn't try to hurt the giant Dwarf before! He opts to sit down. "A little banged up... But nothing I can't get over with some rest, recovery, and alcohol, heh..." He snickers a bit before wincing. "Ow. How about you? He... He didn't infect you, I hope, did he cut your stab you with his claws?" He asked, visibly very concerned for Chachanji as he is unsure.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "Ah, I can help wit tha' a lil'..." he offered, holding a very large hand over the Dwarf. The hand would glow with a faint golden light as he sent some healing energy into his companion. His healing magic was usually rather weak - not good for much beyond minor scratches and scrapes - but bolstered with some of the extra aether in him due to his increased size, it would actually be able to do SOME actual mending. His form actually dwindled a bit in size as that aether was used up, but it would-- (Chachanji Gegenji) be difficult to notice given it was a couple fulms out of around a hundred and fifty. (Chachanji Gegenji) "'n 'm fine, dun worry... th' bites 'n stuff hurt, but it didn't break skin."

(Metarutaru Koradrix) He would feel himself getting better already! He smiles brightly at him. It would at least be enough to get back home safely, for sure. He nods to him. "Wow, wasn't expecting that... Thanks a bunch. Man, do I owe you an apology and then some for earlier! Tell you what, if you can find a way to be proper sized to walk into a town, You just have to let me treat you to some good food and drink! The least I could do for helping me here, Chachanji." Metarutaru Koradrix smiles at you.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "'m sorry I can't heal much more'n tha'. Ain't never been too good at it," Chachan stated apologetically, but with a smile. "'n-n dun worry about it. I... kinda can't blame ya fer thinkin' I was th' monster, y'know?" The smile is slightly tinged with sadness, but not nearly as much as before. Hard to be as upset about it when misunderstandings were corrected and a new friendship was forged! "'n-n 'm sure Gria'll help get me back down ta size." He scratched at his cheek. "I figger I owe 'em an-- (Chachanji Gegenji) apology first, though."

(Metarutaru Koradrix) "Well... Alright, I won't question magic shenanigans in Il Mheg... But if ya got the time, Meet me sometime at the Ostall Imperative! It's south of the gate to Il Mheg itself, and I'll treat ya! I need to head back to them and give 'em a heads up things are all safe here now. Well, as safe as Il Mheg can be, hah! I'll see you soon Chachanji!"

(Metarutaru Koradrix) He waves farewell to him, and making sure not to be in Il Mheg too long, risky business that is after all. He'd begin to work on his trek back down, revitalized by the healing.

(Chachanji Gegenji) "Ah, sure thin'. Will ya be able ta get down alright or...?" he started to offer, but the dwarf was already on his way. So he just gave him a wave as Gria twirled into existence next to his oversized ear, hands on hips. "Sure as ye are over a hundred fulms tall, Chachanji," they stated with a pout. "Ye -better- be apologizing! I gave you all that aether and you call me a MEANIE."

[journeysintowebcomics]

Homestuck Liveblog #182

UPDATE 182: Nothing Goes According to Plan

Last time the epilogues had started. First the meat route! Featuring John going to fight Lord English with many teenage versions of his friends, and Dave and Karkaroni launching their candidacy for president to stop Jane from getting there. Let’s continue.

Wherever John just zapped everyone to is very dark. Given the final destination likely is the place where they’ll fight Lord English, this would be inside one of the bubbles, no? I don’t remember them being particularly dark or dreary, so maybe they’re in the space between the bubbles instead. Shouldn’t be too difficult to find the one with Lord English, just look for the one with the destructive light show.

Apparently they arrived very early. It’s Caliborn, Gamzee and that robot rabbit. Hm. Perhaps this is when they went to fight Caliborn according to the clay theater show?

Lord English is holding something that looks like... Lil Cal? It’s definitely Lil Cal, and Lord English is definitely waltzing around with it in his little spotlight in the middle of the nowhere, swinging the puppet around by both its floppy arms. Well, rather, he was waltzing around. He stopped the moment you looked at him.

...okay then, of all things for Caliborn to be doing, dancing the waltz with the puppet wasn’t really one of them. Consider me surprised, story.

John and Caliborn do a staredown that’d have filled like eighteen pages of Homestuck, and John gives him a thumbs-down. Caliborn takes umbrage with that, although it’s just for a little while, before laughing and deciding this really was the moment represented by the clay theater thing. So, if I recall correctly, that ended with the Original Wonderkids being trapped in the juju, and Dirk shoving Caliborn and the red sprite whose name I don’t remember into the puppet. Foregone conclusion?

CALIBORN: BE QUIET.

CALIBORN: I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT YOU JUST INTERRUPTED A GROUNDBREAKING INTERPRETIVE ART PIECE.

CALIBORN: IT WAS THE FIRST OF ITS KIND. PERFORMED ONLY ONCE. AND MADE MORE VALUABLE FOR ITS RARENESS.

JOHN: wow.

Yes, John, the guy who will destroy existence and also ruin everything still is a dork. Surprise?

Caliborn seems very confident everything will go according to plan and maybe he has reasons to believe that. I mean, it has to, for this to not be a paradox and doom everybody in the process. And yup! Effectively, the ninth page is all about how the heroes lost and got trapped in the juju. It didn’t go all according to the claymation theater because there were some minor and unimportant deviations, but it ended with their loss. I do wonder if we’ll see what happened after they got trapped, though. Kind of doubt it, given this is from John’s point of view.

Nope, it’s Jane. Alright, time to see what’s going on with her and how accurate Dave and Karkaroni’s assessment of her is.

So, I have read several paragraphs now. I can definitely see why those two would say that, and although it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, I do sense a constant and unsettling ‘I know better than everyone’ vibe over all this. Then there’s the matter of word choice:

In fact, Jane is pretty sure that Karkat Vantas would probably literally burst into flame if too many people happened to look at him at the same time, like a vampire walking out into the sun.

Wait. Jane lowers the pillow from her face and stares at her brass-and-glass art deco ceiling. Was that vampire thing xenophobic against Kanaya? Or whatever it was that Kanaya was supposed to be? No, of course not, she assures herself.

---

And despite being inarguably the dimmest of his family’s impressive ecto-biological stock...

Oh, dear. Stock. That’s likely a problematic word, isn’t it? Jane thinks. She crosses it off her mental list of “appropriate words to say during a press conference.”

----

And the consorts? Who had even given them the right to vote in the first place?

----

But Earth C’s paper-thin idyllic history was very close to a boiling point—its very first boiling point, in fact, which will have everything to do with the problematic nature of troll reproduction. The first generation of natural-born trolls obviously cannot be entrusted to a troll.

Which was absolutely not a xenophobic thing to think. It was just realistic. The citizens of Earth C were able to rest easy knowing that the government held careful rein over the... well, over matters of equity.

All that? It’s not outright awful, but it’s enough to leave a nasty aftertaste when you think about it for a moment. Can’t say I know how anything’s supposed to work in the so-called idyllic society of Earth C, or what kind of intricate social problems exist, so I can’t really comment about most of this without making a loooooot of assumptions that are a burden to deal with, but all this about controlling troll reproduction is an uncomfortable callback to the Condesce’s efforts to control human reproduction and mold it to her tastes. I doubt Jane would go that far, but it still is too much of a similarity to it. When I said last update she totally was the Condesce’s descendant it was a joke, not a wish for this, golly.

That aside, in all this I have the impression Hussie isn’t walking the walk, or whatever the colloquial saying goes. I don’t know why exactly he decided to go in this direction with the character, but to me it feels like he’s both trying to push in that direction and try to keep Jane similar to how she was in Homestuck. It’s just a few paragraphs and she hasn’t even said a word to another character, but to me it feels like he’s not committing to the characterization he’s trying to make here. You can’t do both at the same time, seriously. Maybe it’d work if it was an entirely new character instead of an existing character – and by Jove this story doesn’t need new characters, that’s for sure – but yeah, right now? All this with Jane? It’s...not really working for me. It feels kind of clunky.

I definitely can see why I heard people were unsatisfied with the epilogue, though! A character being given unsavory traits and inclinations it didn’t have before must have been an unwelcome shock.

Welp! Time to call Jake! I suppose she’ll try to get his political endorsement thanks to the major political capital he now has. Let’s see if it works!

JAKE: Ahoy ahoy!

Jane has to suck in a hard breath to stop herself from groaning. Why were so many of the finest young minds on this planet slaves to this foolish man’s perky glutes?

Can Jake be treated as more than a one-dimensional character with an ass jutting out? Would be great.

Apparently getting shot with horse tranquilizers is how the shows have been ending for a while already. No wonder there are riots every time, so much for the underdog victory in that show. Still, it’s working, because he’s adored by everyone. Jake sounds like he’s okay with this, but really, he must have a breaking point. You can get shot with horse tranquilizers only so many times before you demand it to stop.

JAKE: Its beginning to feel like all people want from me is to stick my derriere on a signpost for their own profit.

Funny you’d say that, given how much it’s been featuring in this epilogue.

Jake isn’t really the brightest bulb, but he’s not so dense he wouldn’t notice this, yup. Maybe he’d be relieved to know Dave and Karkaroni want him to wink and give double pistols at the camera instead of showing his butt on a billboard. If that’s what makes Jake support them over Jane I’ll laugh and also feel pretty bad for him.

In all this, Jane invites Jake to see her, saying she’s ready to give him what’s best for him. That’s...pretty manipulative, knowing what she wants. Still, she managed to convince him to go see her, so that’s that. I don’t think this meeting will go like she wants to, so I’m kind of dreading it. Next page!

Apparently John never considered the possibility they’d lose against Caliborn. I mean, it’s hard to imagine you’d get trapped into a juju that’s essential a complete void in the universe, but still! He says he screwed up, and praises Rose. Looks like John is alone in the space he’s in, while the rest of the Wonderkids are in their own little pockets of nothingness not too far away. Inside this juju they can’t feel time or space, which is...good? Means they’re not going to die, at least. Dave and Jade are powerless. Can Rose use her seer powers?

ROSE: What did my future self say it was we had to do?

JOHN: erm... she never rea—

DAVE: WHAT?

JOHN: she—

DAVE: I CANT HEAR YOU

JOHN: UM, SHE NEVER REALLY TOLD US WHAT WE HAD TO DO, EXACTLY?

JOHN: JUST WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN, IN A REALLY LOOSE SORT OF FASHION?

ROSE: DOES THAT MEAN WE’RE STU—

What does it say of me I thought she was going to say ‘stupid’. For charging ahead without getting as many details as possible of what future Rose said, I guess. Maybe it’d have been less of a shock when this happened.

Apparently what future Rose foresaw is that they would be trapped in the juju and then freed in the future. Sounds about right, I think that was implied to happen in Act 7. So it’s only matter of time before they’re freed, although, knowing who wrote this, I wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the fight against Lord English is just shunted aside with a vague description of how it went. Hah!

From what John can imagine, the battle outside is going just like the claymation theater had predicted. By now Caliborn must be getting shoved into the puppet and thrown into the fabric of the multiverse, to doom everyone. You know, now that I think about it, how are the New Wonderkids going to leave wherever they are right now? Without John they’re kind of stuck. Whooops.

It doesn’t sound like Terezi is in the new world. Either she isn’t or she completely cut contact from the rest, because John misses her. I figure he’d at least know what she’s up to, if she were around. Hm.

She wouldn’t have let you neglect relationships with certain friends for so long that you missed whole chapters of their lives. She wouldn’t have put up with you moping around with the salamanders for so long. She would have kicked your ass for being such a loser about everything. She would have poked you in the forehead and called you insufferably lame and told you to pick up the damn phone. You would have called her a weirdo and pretended you hated it, and maybe you would even have believed you hated it. But now, sitting here in this little white cubicle, contemplating your regrets, you don’t think you’d have hated it much at all.

Definitely sounds like she isn’t around. I can’t remember what happened with her in Homestuck...maybe something in these epilogues will answer that?

Also, it’s possible John is depressed. It’s not impossible, really! It’d be surprising if after the events of Sburb and its very traumatic qualities they’re not affected in some manner. Some seemed to be better-adjusted, somehow, but it’s not out of the question others have been affected negatively. Maybe John is depressed. Nothing to do in this juju than tell the rest about that, I suppose.

It’s strategy meeting time right there at Karkaroni’s hive. Dave is in charge of everything, outlining their strategy and what the consequences of Jane’s reign of terror will be. Most of it goes over my head, I admit, thanks to Dave’s verbose way of talking, and Karkaroni and Jade don’t seem to be faring much better.

DAVE: are you two even listening or are you just making noises with your mouths

KARKAT: HOW DARE YOU.

KARKAT: I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M BEING ACCUSED BY DAVE STRIDER, REIGNING EMPEROR OF SPEWING ENDLESS VERBAL DIARRHEA DIRECTLY INTO MY INNOCENT HEAR DUCTS EVERY DAY OF MY FUCKING LIFE, OF MAKING THOUGHTLESS MOUTH NOISES.

KARKAT: JADE, ARE YOU HEARING THIS?

JADE: im scandalized

JADE: especially when

JADE: there are much better things we could all be doing with our mouths.....

...

...

...

...did I mention already I have heard so much dissatisfaction about the epilogues? I didn’t get many details back then, but I definitely am realizing why I heard those opinions all the time. What’s wrong with you, Jade. Nobody else knows how to react, so Dave just continues his strategy meeting.

From what I can gather here, Dave’s opinion is that Jane will capitalize on the very violent and very disturbing features of troll life back in Alternia, and boy is there plenty of that. The average person would be incredibly fearful of a repeat of any of that, especially if the Condesce is brought up. Really, in terms of humans, I’m preeeeetty sure Jane has their vote, no contest. Can’t say I wouldn’t vote for her if I was told about the brutality of troll life and the effects it’d have on us. It’s all about how it’s presented, and Jane would definitely present it at its most raw.

Jade gives an overview of the consequences of the Jane presidency in a manner that stuns our dear underdogs here, and also dog hormones are mentioned. Are you telling me that in the fusion Jade was somehow implanted with her dog’s endocrine system? Was that a thing? Because if she wasn’t then this doesn’t make sense at all, unless somehow her dog ears and tail are secreting hormones. It’s illogical. Not that Jade being fused with her supernatural omnipotent dogsprite is incredibly logical.

You know, when I started reading the epilogues I didn’t really expect to be reading about Jade’s polyamorous urges. I don’t want to read about Jade’s polyamorous urges. Let me just...skip this until the topic changes.

I can’t believe that took the rest of the page, and that’s not a joke-y ‘I can’t believe’. Well then. Next.

Oh, great, it’s Vriska. You know, I like Vriska enough, buuuuut her influence in the narration was never really something I liked of her. Guess I’ll have to endure that, then. The narration starts with reminding she still has quite the hero delusions. Peachy! Off to kind of a bad start. Still, what’s important is that she’s facing Lord English and she has just deployed the juju that’s hosting the Wonderkids, so this really is picking up from Act 7. I didn’t think this would be happening yet here we are. Nice!

Now that the juju has been deployed, the majority of those present – Meenah, Tavros and a myriad of unnamed ghosts – should be retreating, but Vriska wants to see how Lord English destroys reality, which he does with just a roar, sending literal pieces of reality crashing down and bonking Vriska on the head. Above her, a black hole is forming, consuming reality itself. It’s so strong that, without Tavros to anchor her, she’s lifted off the ground and sucked towards it. She’s unable to hold onto the juju or onto anything, and disappears into the black hole.

Well that was quite the random aside, but that’s how Homestuck is.

John and the rest emerge from the juju, just in time to see the huge and realize things are falling apart. There’s nothing about Lord English being nearby, so maybe he was absorbed into the black hole as well? Not much time to wonder about that, because reality unravels.

In Jane’s office reality isn’t unraveling, though, what’s unraveling is her patience, because Jake doesn’t figure out entering through the door is what anyone would do, instead of entering through the window from what’s likely not a ground floor office. Once he enters like any person without powers would do, Jane receives him.

And intimate knowledge of his hoarding habits—particularly the type of sultry, cerulean content he is known to hoard—is exactly why Jane is wearing a blue dress with a very high hem. Jake’s bow tie practically spins at the sight of it.

Thaaaaat’s also manipulative. Clever and it most likely will work, but it’s manipulative. I’m still having a hard time trying to associate this with Jane, honestly.

Well she tries to seduce him, which, knowing how hard of a time she was having enduring her romantic trouble in Homestuck, is darkly hilarious, especially when it fails completely because she’s not good at this. All Jake can do is spit bourbon at her. After that little stunt she’ll need to have incredible patience not to kick him out immediately, but the political capital must be really worth it.

Although she’s clearly very frustrated, she still plows ahead and starts talking about the economy, trying to get Jake up to date with the intricacies of what’s going on. He doesn’t know anything at all, so she has to explain to him everything. She still seems to be kind of aiming to seducing Jake, though. Sigh.

Who are they now? The same Jake and Jane who passed like particularly dysfunctional ships in the night a decade ago? Or is Jane wiser, and Jake kinder? Are they better versions of themselves?

Well it sure wasn’t the other way, Jane sure didn’t get kinder and Jake wiser. That much was very clear just from this update.

I’m not entirely sure if her reminiscing about how they may be all drifting apart and how the trajectory all of their lives have taken is fake – part of me believes it may be sincere, after all – but what I’m sure of is that she doesn’t miss Jake. She makes sure to say she does, though! And he reciprocates. This leads to a lot of kissing. This sure escalated fast! And on Jane’s favor, dare I say. It was a complete accident, but it’s going pretty close to what she had intended.

Or not, because through all this Jake keeps thinking of Dirk and his abysmally romantic attributes. Boy, if Jane heard about this she’d be even more frustrated. But yeah, pretty clear Jake hasn’t gotten over Dirk no matter what. Seems to me like he’s doomed to think of Dirk for quite a while. He realizes that in a flash of inspiration and yelps in panic, deciding to scram and ending Jane’s underhanded romantic overtures. That went pretty badly!

JANE: What the...

JANE: Everliving fuck!

It really is for the better she’s not aware what was going through Jake’s mind, hah! She even calls Dirk to talk about what happened. He’s not understanding, he simply states you can’t be nice to Jake if you want him to be interested in you, and pretty much tells Jane to stay on her line and stop trying to play romance with Jake because that’s his turf. Paraphrasing. This is starting to seem more and more like Jake won’t throw his hat in their ring, in my opinion.

She’s also looking emotional support, and she’s not getting it from Dirk because she has other things to deal with, more important than the election of president of the entire planet. Rose is here, and given how they have a mutual problem, they have to talk about it. But that’s for next time!

[team-free-will-you-idjits-67]

This Crazy Life: Part Three

Description: Your life changed the moment Jared Padalecki walked through the doors of your shit job, in your shit town. You helped him as much as you could, becoming extremely close. (Characters, Warnings, etc. will change per part.)

Characters: Jared Padalecki and Reader

Warnings: Just a little bit of cuteness lol.

Word Count: 846

A/N: This is PURE FICTION. I do not mean ANY harm to Jared or his absolutely wonderful family! Taglist

Masterlist / Jared Padalecki Masterlist

You slipped out of bed the next morning, trying not to disturb the sleeping giant beside you. You froze when Jared stirred in his sleep, but sighed a breath of relief when he settled down before you fell off the bed.

You grabbed your bags and disappeared into the bathroom quietly. You scrolled through your phone and settled on some classic rock to play softly while you were in the shower. You hated taking quiet showers, some sort of music needed to be playing, no matter what volume it was at.

You undressed and slid into the glass encased shower. The hot water flowed over your body, loosening your muscles and providing some relief from the stressful last 24-hours you had endured as ‘Just Breathe’ by Pearl Jam softly ebbed through the bathroom.

The song was your favorite. It always helped calm your nerves, the soft playing of the guitar and Eddie Vedder’s rough voice singing gently along with the music always seemed to help your anxiety, no matter what situation you were in.  

As you soaped up, you thought about what was going to happen now.

Jared had to at least call Jensen. Someone needed to know where he was. You were not about to have your life ruined over some false kidnapping accusations. Your heart sank at your next thought. Would Jared still want to be in contact after all of this? Were you just the next best thing he could get since Jensen wasn’t around?

You sighed, trying to not let your anxiety overtake you as you exited the shower. Steam had filled the room and effectively clouded the mirror. You began to wipe at the mirror when a soft knock landed on the door, “Y/N? Ca-can I use the bathroom?”

You chuckled softly, “Yeah Jare! Just  a sec.” You wrapped your towel tightly around your chest and opened the door. You had to stifle a laugh as Jared stared at you, mouth slightly agape, “It’s all yours.”

He awkwardly smiled and disappeared into the still slightly steaming bathroom. You sat at the end of the bed, silently cursing at yourself for leaving your phone in the bathroom. It would have given you something to do while you were waiting. You could hear another Pearl Jam song, ‘Jeremy’, start softly playing through the bathroom and progressively get louder.

You stood up from the bed with a furrowed brow when Jared walked out of the bathroom, a smile plastered across his face, “You like Pearl Jam too, huh?”

You let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah. Almost too much sometimes.”

He chuckled as he walked past you back towards the bed, “I hope you don’t mind that I turned up the volume.” You shook your head in response as he flopped onto the bed, “Bathroom’s all yours.” He cleared his throat just before you disappeared behind the door, grabbing your attention, “I want to go somewhere today. Before we call Jensen.”

You nodded and smiled softly as you walked into the bathroom.

You got ready quickly, throwing on clothing as fast as you could. You didn’t want Jared to change his mind. It put you slightly at ease that he wanted to leave the hotel. But, as you put on your clothing, your anxiety of going out in public with him hit you like a freight train.

He’s a celebrity. How much attention is he going to get even though he’s in a small town? Would pictures go online before he called Jensen? What would happen if Gen saw the pictures? How would people think of you?

A million different questions ran through your head as you finished applying your makeup. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself as you tried to slow your breathing. Everything is going to be okay. Jared deals with this kind of stuff every day, he will know what to do. Just be there for him. That’s all he needs right now.

You inhaled one last time, and let out your breath slowly as you grabbed your phone and stopped the music. You opened the bathroom door and sat on the bed beside Jared, “What did you want to do today?”

He smiled the most genuine smile you’d seen cross his features in the last 24-hours, “I kind of want to explore the area.”

You scoffed, “Good luck with that. You’ve seen it. Everything.” You picked at your fingernails, “There’s nothing here to do.”

He chuckled, “There has to be somewhere, a place that you would take someone in town.”

You pursed your lips as you were thinking. Your eyes squinted, causing Jared’s to squint along with yours. You looked at him, “You okay with driving like, half an hour?”

He nodded, “Totally.”

You hopped off the bed, “Good.” You grabbed your wallet and chuckled, “Food is fine, right?”

Jared belly-laughed, “Oh yeah, definitely.”

You walked out of the hotel room, Jared following behind closely. You both got into your car and started your ‘adventure’ to your favorite Mom and Pop restaurant a couple towns over.

Tags:

Forever Tags:

@emoryhemsworth , @nanie5 , @gabrielslittleangel, @alexwinchester23 , @assassinofmasyaf , @caswinchester2000 , @justawaywardwinchester , @thehufflepuffblog , @kittenofsarcasm , @missihart23 , @spnfamily-alwayskeepfighting, @team-free-gallagher, @rhiannonj79 , @curly-haired-disaster, @mogaruke, @supernaturalsammy01, @heyitscam99, @hobby27, @crazyrebelbitch87

Sam/Jared x Reader Tags:

@agentaguilera-kaz2y5, @andyl394, @justkindafloatingalong, @rebelminxy, @totally-magoatally, @jointhehunt67 , @m-i-c-r-o-w-a-v-e-s , @xxtheoutsidersxx , @paradoxical-sleep

This Crazy Life Tags:

@my-proof-is-you, @somilotopia, @everythingisoverrated, @emilyshurley, @squirrelnotsam, @drakelover78, @mymoriii , @1-800-kill-me-im-gay, @mannls, @sillydecoy, @daphne-fandom-writing

[omcik-blog]

New Post has been published on OmCik

New Post has been published on http://omcik.com/op-ed-why-trumps-dangerous-trade-policy-wont-work/

Op-Ed: Why Trump's dangerous trade policy won't work

It seems President Trump is ready to start rolling back globalization. Let’s hope he doesn’t blow up the postwar economic order.

While Mexican negotiators waited for the United States to make its first move in its proposed renegotiation of the North American Free Trade Agreement, the president last week against another trade deal he called unfair — that negotiated by the Obama administration with South Korea.

Largely in place with the confirmation of Robert Lighthizer as the in May, the president’s trade team seems itching to deploy a wall of trade protection around the United States.

More from New York Times:

This would include new tariffs on imports of steel — and maybe also aluminum — based on the that the imports somehow endanger national security. The administration is also mulling anti-dumping duties on Canadian aircraft and countervailing duties on .

A lot of this may look tame when set alongside Mr. Trump’s fiery campaign speeches portraying trade as the bane of the American worker. He no longer calls for a 45 percent tariff on imports from China, nor does he threaten to walk away from Nafta.

Despite his campaign promises to voters in industrial states eager for , some analysts suggested that Mr. Trump might ultimately be hemmed in by the standard pro-trade orthodoxy of the Republican Party.

But the of the administration’s recent trade initiatives is hardly reassuring. It’s not just that many of his proposals will invite retaliation from the nation’s trading partners — inviting the prospect of a protracted tit-for-tat trade war. The most frightening aspect of Mr. Trump’s approach is the seeming contempt for the rules and institutions that have underpinned global trade since World War II.

Might Mr. Trump hew to the rules overseen by the even as he retreats from prior American commitments to global trade? Or will he eschew the multilateral framework in pursuit of a set of bilateral deals, turning his back on a long history of trade diplomacy?

These days, quite a few economists show sympathy for the argument that some trade protection may be warranted to help workers in industries threatened by imports.

Protectionism will not add to American jobs or raise wages, on the whole. At best it will shuffle jobs around — adding some in protected companies like steel makers and cutting some in industries that buy steel, like auto manufacturers. By making the economy less efficient, protectionism will also make the nation poorer as a whole.

But maximizing economic output is not the nation’s only objective. The case for trade liberalization also relies on the proposition that winners in the process will compensate the losers whose jobs are displaced. If American politics impedes any redistribution of trade’s spoils, for restoring equity by throwing sand in the cogs of trade.

“It would be decreasing the size of the pie to increase the size of some slices,” as David Autor, a top labor economist at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, put it to me once. “We have always done the opposite thing without making people whole.”

What’s more, unanticipated shocks over the last quarter-century — when information technology swept through every industry and China emerged from nowhere to become the world’s biggest exporter — might justify reconsidering market-access commitments made earlier. “Maybe at the end of the day some trade responses are reasonable,” said Robert W. Staiger, a trade economist from Dartmouth College.

And yet even accepting that the United States may find it reasonable to retreat from trade somewhat, it is critical to figure out what this retreat might look like.

The many rounds of trade liberalization after World War II were anchored in two core principles that, in fact, had been in 1934: reciprocity and nondiscrimination. Countries could expect to receive concessions as valuable as those they offered. Most critically, a concession made to one country would automatically be extended to all, under what was called the most-favored-nation rule.

The cocktail worked. Notably, the principle of nondiscrimination ensured that a given trading partner could not negotiate a tariff cut with the United States and then offer a more favorable deal to another country — undercutting the American competitive position. This broke through a logjam that had stymied previous attempts to liberalize international trade by encouraging countries to make only miserly offers.

The problem is that these principles make for an ill fit with Mr. Trump’s worldview, honed in the zero-sum sphere of real estate deal making where one party’s win is the other’s loss.

In trade diplomacy, the objective is to arrive at an agreement that everybody can call a win. “The best way to have a trade commitment enforced is to make it mutually beneficial,” Professor Staiger told me. “If we push to get the very best deal for the United States, we will push other countries to the point that they are indifferent.”

Mr. Trump has railed against the fact that Germany’s tariffs on imported cars from the United States are higher than American tariffs on German cars. “Reciprocal is, if you’ve got a 30 percent tariff, you know what, we should have a 30 percent tariff,” he told Chancellor Angela Merkel and other leaders of the Group of 7 most advanced nations in May, according to Gary D. Cohn, his chief economic adviser.

This misunderstands the multiple trading of concessions that has guided trade liberalization over more than a half-century under the most-favored-nation rule, opening deals in which India offers something of value to Europe, in exchange for which Europe offers something of value to the United States and the United States offers something India likes.

As Chad P. Bown of the Peterson Institute for International Economics , the Germans could equally complain that the American tariff on German shirts is twice as high as Germany’s tariff on American shirts.

And this presents the risk to global trade: that Mr. Trump follows through on his talk of eliminating the nation’s bilateral trade deficits through a series of one-to-one deals, abandoning the multilateral framework. This is not only pointless; in a market economy it is not possible. Trade agreements set the rules, but not the trade balance.

Bilateral trade deficits are not losses. Bilateral surpluses are not gains. They say little about the overall strength or weakness of the economy. “I have a deficit with my grocer and a surplus with my firm,” said Carla A. Hills, the nation’s trade representative during the Nafta negotiations under the administration of the first President George Bush. “As long as I run my economy properly, I stay above water.”

Paradoxically, if Mr. Trump wants to reduce the American engagement with global trade, his best bet is to stay within the strictures of the multilateral trading system. The World Trade Organization, in fact, does not prevent the United States from raising tariffs unilaterally to protect a few industries and their workers. He does not have to convince any of the nation’s trading partners.

All he must accept is that the trading partners would be allowed — after negotiations — to retaliate proportionally by raising barriers against imports from the United States. “The system allows you to reset your commitments,” Professor Staiger said. “But other countries are also allowed to react.”

Not unlike the guarantee of reciprocal benefits extended to all, the opportunity for retaliation merely ensures that the United States proportionally bears the costs as well as the benefits of its choices. Whether the ultimate objective is more trade or less, it seems like a sensible principle upon which to negotiate. And yet the big risk for the global trading system, and the postwar economic order, is that it is a cost that Mr. Trump will refuse to bear.