#a dream is my brain playing with my meds like Barbies

[mymainwastoocluttered]

I dreamed Ruggie took his girlfriend to this romantic trek through the woodsy mountains during winter and somehow roped Leona into going with and taking their pictures. Then they ditched him somewhere along the way because he was napping on the snow.

[yudgefudge]

tagged by: @erlingshaalands <3

tagging: @kylivier @liverpool-enjoyer @cryingforcrocodiles @childishfirmino @goopynoodle @iluminad00 @waltzshouldbewriting @the-phoenix-heart @charlesluvr @lhpics7 @little-red-devil @tam-is-blogging @addictivewhispering and uhhh anyone else that sees this :) tagging is very very hard and my brain is taken up by balls. thanks

name: daniel

sign: virgo sun, cancer moon, taurus rising!

time: 21:09

fave band/artist: taylor swift + nicki minaj!

last movie: this is embarrassing...barbie. i dont watch alot of movies

last show: chicago med

when i created this blog: dont remember and i dont care to check. i broke into footyblr around april 2023 but I know I posted b4 that? idk

other blogs: only this one.

do i get asks: sometimes. not really. i wish i got more but im grateful for the ones i do get haha

followers: 107 (???? how)

average hours of sleep: like 6 or 7 hours. I actively try not to nap during the day

instruments: piano + I used to be able to play guitar

what am i wearing: a basic bitch shirt + basic bitch cargo shorts

dream job: goalkeeper (shoot me) or author or showrunner

dream trip: paris (i can rescue mbappe)

fave song at the min: bad idea right? by olivia + deli by ice spice

[k-indie]

This is from my Wattpad look it's Revenger Dreams

Or should I change it to delinquent dreams ??

Anyway

Again, it's Nicki Minaj she got bars and profanity for days PLS- watch yourself now

//just a thought I had where the reader is performing on stage and all of the characters are there and she's rapping a remix to Nicki Minaj's barbie dreams

"I'm looking for a gangsta to give some babies

A hand full of Mikey's, a sprinkle of Takashi

Man, I ain't got no type, like Takuya Yamagishi

But if he can't fuck three times a night, peace

I tried to fuck Taiju for a powerful hour

All the gangsta wanna do is talk Power for hours

Beat the pussy up make sure it's a K-O

Step your banks up like you movin' that yayo

Somebody go and make sure Hinata okay though

I heard she think I'm tryna give the coochie to her baby hero

They always wanna beat it up, goon up the pussy

Man, maybe I should let him autotune up the pussy

All these Edward challenged niggas lying and shit

Man, these Kakucho niggas stay eyeing my shit

Koko worth a hundred milli, always buying me shit

But I don't know if the pussy wet or if he crying and shit ('akane-san', *wiping his tears with yen*)

Terano still be in my DMs, I be having to duck him

"I used to pray for times like this"

Face ass when I fuck him

Man, Sanzu is my baby, he ain't takin' an L

But he took it literally when I said "go to hell"

Used to fuck with Muto, I ain't addressing this shit

Caught him in my dressing room stealing dresses and shit

I used to give this nigga with a lisp tests and shit

How you want the pussy?

Can't say your s's and shit

Dreams of fucking one of these little 'linquents

I'm just playing, but I'm saying

Dreams of fucking one of these little 'linquents

I'm just playing, but I'm saying

Dreams of fucking one of these little 'linquents

I'm just playing, but I'm saying

Dreams of fucking one of these little 'linquents

I'm just playing, but I'm saying

I remember when I used to have a crush on Special Ed

Shoutout to Baji, 'cause he made it out of special ed

You wanna fuck me, you gotta give some special head

'Cause this pussy had these gangstas on some special meds

Like Hanma Shuji, he was biting my shit

Talking 'bout "yo, why you got these gangstas fighting and shit"

On the real, I should make these gangstas scrap for the pussy

Yuzuha and Senju, get the strap for this pussy, uh

And I would've had Osanai banging the cake

'Til I saw him hopping out of cars dancing to Drake

I been a five-star bitch, man, word to 'Kashi

I'ma do that gangsta Kisaki dirty, word to Take (takemichi)

Had to cancel ole Pah-chin, boy, we ain't speaking

Ain't no fat nigga telling me what he ain't eating

Blue Ogre and Big Cheesy with the hammer yelling "gang, gang"

This ain't what I meant when I said a gang bang

Atsushi wanna menage, I said Tre-Way

Curved him and went the Emma and Draken way

Ran copped the Barbie Dreamhouse and you can play the part

I ain't tryna bust it open in the trailer park

Dreams of fucking one of these little 'linquents

I'm just playing, but I'm saying

Dreams of fucking one of these little 'linquents

I'm just playing, but I'm saying

Dreams of fucking one of these little 'linquents

I'm just playing, but I'm saying

Dreams of fucking one of these little 'linquents

I'm just playing, but I'm saying

Revenger dreams

Revenger dreams

I'm just playing, but I'm saying

Revenger dreams

You know I'm all about them dollars

I be supporting them scholars

I let Ran give me some brain

But he wanted me to ride it

So I said, "fuck it, I'm in"

He want a cut like a trim

And if he act like he know, I let him fuck it again

I got them bars, I'm indicted

I'm popping, I'm uninvited

I said just lick on the clitoris nigga, don't fucking bite it

I ride his dick in a circle

I turn Keisuke into Urkel

I go around and around and I'ma go down in slow motion

Then I pick it up, look at it

I said, "daddy, come get at it," uh

Yellow brick road, he said I am a wiz at it

Yeah, they want it, want it

You know I flaunt it, flaunt it

I'm a trendsetter

Everything I do, they do

Yeah, put up 'em on it, on it

Dimelo papi, papi

Yo quiero sloppy, sloppy

I'll give it to you if you beat it up like Baji, Baji

I'ma kill 'em with them shoe

No ceiling is in the roof

And I'm BIG, give me the loot, twelve cylinders in the Coupe

I get dome with the chrome, now tell 'em when I'ma shoot

I just bang, bang, bang, real killers is in my group

The Gorillas in my unit, vacationin' where it's humid

And I shine, shine, shine

I got diamonds all in my Cubans

I'm in LA Times more then when niggas lootin'

And my flow spit crack, I think that niggas usin'

He done bodied everybody, in closing these bitches losin'

Using, using, up a bitch moving

No I ain't Takuya, no no, I ain't Suzuki

*snore sounds* *snore sounds*

Damn, a bitch snoozin'

Shoutout to my Jews, l'chaim Rick Rubin

Big fat titties yes, they be protruding

I be like, fuck 'em, fuck 'em, bring the lube in

I be like fuck 'em, fuck 'em, bring the lube in"

"Goddamn..." Hanma said to himself, giving a cheesy grin to Kisaki who was staring blankly ahead, wondering why he had to be the butt of your remix. 

Mikey, Draken, and Baji were laughing together, while Chifuyu and Takemichi were just watching with open mouths, almost shocked but more impressed than anything, and a single tear started running down from Takemichi's eye. 

Hinata was smiling halfway, looking over at Takemichi and grabbing hold of his arm while Yuzuha, Senju and and Hakkai were slow clapping for you. 

Everyone was shocked to an extent because they didn't know you had bars and it was so wild to be put in the remix. Some were angry, like Osanai and Muto, but they couldn't help but to laugh at the remix anyway. You were... sensational.

Needless to say, everyone was highly entertained but they'd never forget such an outstanding and outlandish performance, having snatched everyone's metaphorical wigs off.

After those few moments of silence, everyone had cheered for you and you were cheesing so hard on your way off the stage, haing dropped the mic at the end of your last verse. "Ha ha ha, I love this girl!" Kisaki yelled  out, making everyone do a double take as he dapped up Hanma. "What the hell..."

[finding-my-way21-blog]

Dreams: Lost and Found

When I was a child, stories would find me. In the basement of my family home with my younger brother, on the playground with my best friends, in the moments when I felt perpetually alone and misunderstood. I never struggled when the teacher told us to open our exercise booklets and journal our thoughts, create something different. Pencils worked my hand like a rake against leaves: pulling colourful, scattered words into neat, concise piles. 

Before I could write everything down, the stories were preformed via Barbie dolls. I’d set them up, each character provided with a distinct personality and motives. When I was eleven, my parents gifted me with my own laptop-a place to write. The stories poured out of me, water flowing from a faucet. I never knew why I was writing or who I was writing for, but I couldn’t stop. Writing was like breathing to me, an impulse I did without thinking. Words floated around me, ethereal and beautiful. I understood their power, fell in love with their magic. It was the most profound expression of art; the ability to paint a picture without a palette, attach meaning by stringing letters together. 

But, as I grew older, I started to question these stories, resent my brain for manifesting them. Why couldn’t my brain understand numbers the way it did words? I saw the value placed on those who were gifted in mathematics, science. Suddenly, the omniscient voice feeding me stories began to fade, pushed away. I pulled myself from the clouds, focused on what lay before me. My future needed concrete paths that led upwards, a job that provided stability and money. I tore myself away from the flowing words, Alice waking up after visiting Wonderland. 

I think that this happens to all of us. A time to be a children, a time to grow up. A time for the line between dreams and reality to be blurred, and a time for it to come into focus. You want to be a writer? Dream on. Something to be mocked, the art of expression lost in a world dictated by facts and figures. A new dream provided to us, the colours clear within the lines-simple, clean. Go to university. Go to law school. Go to med school. Say you want to be a lawyer or doctor and people understand; say you want to be a writer and people raise their eyebrows, wish you luck. The stories around me hushed, the time for play at its end. 

Still, a familiar ache remains. A bruise that won’t fade, refuses to be ignored. As much as I try to silence them, the stories come to me. Probing, picking, pestering. How sad that we spend childhood wishing to be older, only to spend adulthood wishing to be younger. The stories will always find me, whisper in my ear; this is an irrevocable fact. Only one choice remains: Do I listen?