#buy rosary bracelets

[bullet-prooflove]

Rosary Beads: John Winchester x Reader (NSFW)

Tagaging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @cosmic-psychickitty @desimarie12 @witchygagirl

Prequel to:

Did You Miss Me? (NSFW) - John shows you just how much he's missed you.

Staged - You wake up surprised to find John's stuck around.

It’s starts with a game of poker, strip poker to be exact.

Your clothes are piled in the centre of the table, your damp neon pink panties tossed on top of John’s denim jeans. The cards are long discarded, scattered cross the surface as John presses you down upon it, your hands bound behind your back with the rosary that’s usually twisted around your wrist like a bracelet. The beads dig into your skin as his palm grips your ass, kneading the red imprint he’s left on that perfect peach. You’re glistening for him, he can see your wetness in the dim lighting of the bar you’ve been working since you quit being a hunter.

His hand roams up your back, his fingertips tracing over the scars left by the monsters you’ve faced, the ones that almost killed you the last time.

It scares him how close he came to losing you, he thinks that’s why he keeps coming back, to remind himself that you survived the attack. 

Just a glimpse, he always promises himself, just a glance to make sure you’re doing ok but it’s not enough, it’s never enough because the only way John feels truly alive is when he’s with you. That’s what’s so heart breaking about the whole thing.

It’s a relief when he fills you, he can tell you feel it too by the way your body responds to him. His palm comes to rest on the nape of you neck, tracing over the tattoo of a crescent moon behind your left ear. He has the same one on his wrist, a sign of his commitment to you, one that can never be erased.

“God it feels like coming home.” He whispers as he begins to move in long, slow thrusts.

The rosary beads clack together as you shift, turning your cheek so it presses against the table, your skin flushing that pretty shade of pink. Your breathing hitches and already he can feel you tightening around him, forcing his own climax. A tear leaks down your cheek as you come together and he understands in that moment how overwhelming it is to be with him again.

That love, it’s always there, it never really dies.

“Oh honey I know.” He whispers, his voice raw with emotion as his thumb wipes the salt from your skin. “I feel it too.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[faun-the-fawn77]

Next Contestant

Sinner!Adam x F!Reader

desc: Adam is so so tired of the demon scum hitting on you…especially when you’re working…in that outfit.

warnings: swearing(it’s Adam guys…), some violence, that’s about it:)

note: i am obsessed with Adam and he just for some reason fits Nickelback so much to me so be prepared for like… 18 more Adam fics with Nickelback songs(I’m doing ever song i have of theirs on my playlist)

word count: 1.7k

I judge by what she’s wearing

Just how many heads I’m tearing

Off of assholes coming on to her

And I wish she’d take the night off

So I don’t have to fight off

Every asshole coming on to her

The bar was packed tonight. Sinners of all types crowded the booths and bar table with drinks in hand and eyes bleary. The lights were dimmed to accommodate the partiers for their headaches and turning stomachs. The two workers behind the bar were making drink after drink and passing them out to the customers who ordered. 

The older worker was an octopus-looking demon who was able to make and serve drinks with all six of their arms. The other worker was that of a beautiful demoness who you could tell was only there for the paycheck. Her outfit was what made more of the male demons ask her to make their drinks. 

The door to the packed bar opened and was slammed shut. No one batted an eye at the sound but those who caught a glimpse of who just walked in looked surprised and horrified. This new demon was bigger than most. Decked out in full leather with a plain white tee under the jacket, chains dangling from his neck with a couple that had crosses(One being a rosary), the horns protruding from his head were pitch black that faded into a nice golden colour at the ends. His eyes were bright gold and golden piercings littered his face. 

Adam growled at the people who stared and whispered. He should be used to this by now but he wasn’t. That little insecure part of him always tugged at his brain. When he caught a glimpse of the bar, he made his way through the throngs of demons. His golden eyes caught onto the demoness working tonight. His eyes scanned her up and down, taking in her scandalous outfit she chose for work tonight. A black, ripped crop top with a push-up bra and high waisted black shorts with a leather studded belt to hold them up. Fishnet tights and arm covers were incorporated and he could tell that the outfit caught many demon’s eye. 

It happens every night she works

They’ll go and ask the DJ

Find out just what would she say

If they all tried coming on to her

Don’t they know it’s never going to work

He strides closer to her side of the bar and noticed a couple male demons “flirting” with her…Or what was an attempt at flirting. Adam let out a low growl and grabbed two of them by their collars. 

“Get your filthy demon asses outta here before I really show you what happens when you piss me off.” He dropped them and watched as they scrambled towards the exit. The others who weren’t as scared had held up fists and glared at the bigger demon. Adam rolled his eyes and with a flick of his bracelet-clad wrist, a shot of gold light struck the demons in the chest which blasted them across the room. 

“Fucking bitches…” Adam huffed and turned towards the demoness who was staring at him in amusement. Her eyes were lidded as little giggles escaped her black lips. Adam smirked and leaned against the bar counter. 

“Got any wine back there or is this only the hardcore stuff?” The demoness smiled and produced a bottle of vintage red wine. She only served this stuff to Adam since he was basically the only one to request something at such a place. 

They think they’ll get inside her

With every drink they buy her

As they all try coming on to her

This time somebody’s getting hurt

Here comes the next contestant

Adam noticed all the drinks left at her right side and tsked. Of course some of these fucking pricks would buy her drinks that she, no doubt, had to make herself. He could already see that none of them were any of her favourites. 

“Does this happen every night you work when I’m not around?” He gestured towards the drinks that weren’t touched. She looked at the drinks and then him and nodded her head. 

“You know I’m not working here willingly but for the money. This is the only place nearby our apartment that actually pays good. And yeah, maybe dressing this way doesn’t help me personally but does help to make more money.” Her gaze bored into his gold eyes. 

Adam was never happy about this. About having the one person he loved, dressing skimpy just to get the money to provide for them. If he could do more then he would but no one would hire him because…yeah. 

The next night was no better. Adam walked through those bar doors and noticed a shark-like demon getting real handsy with his lover. He stormed towards them when he noticed his lover struggling to get the guy off of her.

Is that your hand on my girlfriend?

Is that your hand?

I wish you’d do it again

I’ll watch you leave here limping

And I wish you’d do it again

And I’ll watch you leave her limping

There goes the next contestant

“Is that your hand on my girlfriend you fucking freak?!” The shark demon let go and turned towards Adam. 

“Touch her again and you’ll leave here limping you sorry sack of shit,” Adam growled. The shark demon nodded and scurried out of the bar. 

Adam turned back towards his girl and noticed how shaken up she was. He reached out for her hand and waited till she put her smaller hand in his and was pulled towards his chest. He hugged her tight and whispered sweet little things in her pointed ears in hopes of soothing her. He could feel himself cringe a bit and was a bit angry at both the demons here and that the shitty redemption hotel that Lucifer’s brat hosts is actually working for him.

“Let’s call it quits tonight, babe.” His girlfriend nodded and he gently guided them towards the exit. He knew this type of shit wasn’t gonna stop but he’ll try and be there to stop every single asshole who dares to touch what’s his.

And I even fear the ladies

They’re cool but twice as crazy

Just as bad for coming on to her

Don’t they know it’s never going to work

And each time she bats an eyelash

Somebody’s grabbing her ass

Everyone keeps coming on to her

This time somebody’s getting hurt

Here comes the next contestant

A few weeks had passed with no more incidents. Adam showed up when he could and made sure to handle those who were getting a bit too much for his girl. On this particular night, however, was when shit really hit the fan and opened up Adam’s eyes. 

A flock of succubus were crowded around his girlfriend’s side of the bar. Their tails all seemed to swish in sync as their little bat-like wings fluttered whenever the demoness behind the bar talked to them. 

The hearts in their eyes are what really threw Adam off. They were attracted to her? To his girlfriend? He glowered at the thought that there was more competition for his girl than just the male population of Hell. 

Don’t they know that it’s never going to work? That batting their eyelashes and attempts to grab his girl’s ass was really just about to make him blow a gasket. He saw red. He made his way towards them and cracked his knuckles. This time someone was going to get hurt. 

“Hey sluts! She clearly doesn’t want you so why don’t you back the fuck off and leave her alone?” The group of succubus turned towards Adam and glared. Did they think they were scary? What are they gonna do? Scratch him and pull his hair?

“I’m not afraid to hit bitches like you.” The group of women looked at each other and nodded. They rushed towards him at incredible speed and attempted to catch him off guard. A blast of holy light shot from his palm and nailed them straight in the face. The screams of the succubus were deafening. 

“There goes the next contestants…” Adam wiped his hands on his jeans and made his way towards the bar. His girlfriend smiled at him and thanked him profusely. He can’t believe how crazy those bitches were. 

“They were cool for a while but they started getting twice as crazy as the men who hit on me.” His girlfriend complained. Adam laughed. He knew women could be crazy. He could picture how some of his exorcist bitches would get on the battlefield. After chatting a bit, Adam sipped on his wine while his girl stirred and shook up drinks for the different patrons. He scanned her outfit for this night and grumbled.

I’m hating what she’s wearing

Everybody here keeps staring

Can’t wait ‘till they get what they deserve

This time somebody’s getting hurt

Here comes the next contestant

“I really hate what you’re wearing tonight, sweet-cheeks.” The demoness paused and glanced down at her rather skimpy-looking outfit. Her cheeks puffed as she playfully glared at him. 

“Really? I thought this was a favourite of yours? I mean, that’s what you said last nigh-” Adam slapped a hand over her black-stained lips and shushed her. 

“I just hate that everyone is staring at what’s mine. Only I should see you in clothes like that,” he grumbled to himself. He glanced around and noticed how some were looking at her with lust in their eyes. He growled.

“They’ll get what they deserve, hon. Just wait.” His girlfriend hummed and went back to cleaning several glasses before making more drinks. Adam huffed and nodded. He knew that. Karma was a bitch and these lowlife demon scum were definitely going to get what they deserved.

Is that your hand on my girlfriend?

Is that your hand?

I wish you’d do it again

I’ll watch you leave here limping

I wish you’d do it again

I’ll watch you leave her limping

And I wish you’d do it again

Each night seems like it’s getting worse

And I wish you’d do it again

This time somebody’s getting hurt

There goes the next contestant

MY FIRST EVER ONE SHOT!!! Hope ya'll like:) I now have sympathy towards all the writers on here who write fanfics. That was hard and I tried my best with this one! I read too much and write too little.

Also! For future reference: I will be giving Adam a last name in my fics cause it's so hard writing someone with no last name:(

His full name for me will now be Adam Edenis. I thought of it while I was writing another fanfiction...on wattpad...Anyway! That's it:)

[mimaveil]

Haze (VIII)

Governing concept: Chatty mpreg political thriller, feat. an arranged marriage between two anointed sociopaths and the grownup hangups of their caretakers.

Summary: Permission to misbehave, with honor? or: sex as chronos <> sex as kairos

prev: the orchid and the wasp, worm moon, haze (i), haze (ii), haze (iii), haze (iv), haze (v), haze (vi), haze (vii)

cw: VERY nsfw, mention of child abuse

Nut on the carpet, and describe the weave. 

“Yeah, don’t think your,” leaving the é ambiguous, “fee-on-say’s ready for an industry-grade fuck,” Boyd says, hurling his shirt out the en-suite door while catching his heel against the drawer pull of the vanity. 

Off his right, within a pigtail yank, Eweyan flicks on the sonic. The shower’s diverter valve trims actually have factory-style wheel handles, matte black. Same with the sink faucet — Roman numerals etched on the gears. 

After docking, the airyacht expedition module is serviced; bugs swapped, 630-gram terry sent for laundering, so 10ccs of Second House come—that’s the civilian term*—might get noticed on the pricey textiles. 

Meaning, with all the congenital delays of investiture, they’ve got, say, 21 offline minutes for a tactical quickie plus wipedown before they’re ushered to some dais. 

Under frosty incandescents, he licks a line up the curb cut of Eweyan’s torso—nice and crisp, from all those weighted repeaters. Barrel-leg fatigues, briefs, crew socks back-chucked out the door, the clunk of a vape falling out of pocket. Their quarters are hilariously, insultingly small. 

“So try romance?” He finishes his thought with an inhale of peaty moss, Eweyan’s cock spring-loaded against his smirk. 

Ricochet, the slick gore of Eweyan’s inner thighs: Make it as hard or easy as you like, but I want perfect form. As someone whose bpm crests at 70 during sex— the wearable on his wrist doesn’t even light up—Eweyan has an agenda. “Any idea what happens during this pony show?” he asks, puff of musk, as he saddles up on Boyd’s face. 

Lube’s out, so. The blowjob buys him time on penny-round tile. Plus, the meditative sucking gets him hard, natively. 

“Any time now,” Eweyan brats, rapping the sink-lip with his knuckles. 

With a sigh, Boyd slips cock from mouth to fist. His sole knowledge of investiture protocol comes from shadow-scripts of the porno that the Eighth quashed production on. 

“There’s a, tiara and some imperial swag, most likely a sword, jewel and mirror. Which you’d know,” tugging meanly on sponge, “if you read the dossier instead of posting your betrothed’s face-pic on r/am-i-ugly.” His neck creaks. 

(The most upvoted comment, which Eweyan had shown him, was “looks like a seahorse but id still glaze it.”) 

Toying with the beads of his rosary bracelet—the old-fashioned kind with ground-up rose petals in clay—Eweyan beckons him up. Not for a face-to-face kiss, he doesn’t like that. Obstructs his eyeline, which limits Boyd’s options. 

Fine, intercrural’s kiddie league—phrasing—but with the lube jar empty, he’s not going to trust his junk to the travel toiletries of the Eighth. Hoisting himself up on knurled brass pulls (that’ll leave diamond marks on the palm, cute), he swivels Eweyan around to grip the washstand gears and sinks a bite into his ward’s left delt. They’re matched for height. 

Huffing, in between pumps, the tassel swing of Eweyan’s braid, fist to cosplay-faucet: “Baby Scion gets on set and ritually informs his ancestors that he’s assuming power,” presumably without rimming, but joke’s on them: 

If there’s a dumb idea, the military’s tested it twice. 

If there’s a kink, the church holds patent.  

“Uh, um, privy seal, state seal, scepter, juice box  inna ‘jacent—courtyard to represent the ho,” re-adjusting their join, “ly people. Speech-speech-speech, vạn tuế, vạn tuế, vạn vạn tuế.” Lotta wig glue to keep the tiara on. 

Shame about Salt Haze, Haze8 or whatever. He hadn’t been called in for that project, but the set designer Safira (?) had posted sketches: the great acrylic pavilion with good impact resistance, voile curtains on a quiet-glide pole top, the octagonal pedestals hoisting the minimalist throne. 

Safira, right? Against Eweyan’s tight squirm, he tots up the names, beads clacking on rods, upper deck and lower deck, the marble slat tumbling on the bright girlish shag: Nera, Norfolk, Nomad, Bria, Kalindi, Weber, Boden, Ford, Corbett, Fairfax, Garner, Holton, Cedro, Roland, Baylor, Tyne, Greenwich, Gavin, Montego-on-Butler, wonder where they are now…

The whine startles them both. Hasty, backreach, Eweyan grabs his dick. In the anti-fog mirror, hexagonal: “Do you want to come in me?” his reflection asks, clumsy. The uncertainty rakes his mouth into softness, Boyd’s well-trained dick pulsing like live bait. 

Quick, lie. Soft eject, Boyd drops a kiss to Eweyan’s spine, accent on the L2 and L4, sweat cooling on a rope braid. Sure, he could fuck him raw-to-rosy, drive him to a dirt parking lot of a beach. Pelt of tilapia from a surf shack, grease napkins, stare down the barrel hole of a red sun, a leather clutch cut like a picnic basket for his moon watch and Eweyan’s cherry vape. Every inch he sinks in him is another inch he’s not thinking about Liv, but.

God’s truth, they’re meant to be worn loose to each other. 

Boyd’s jizz gutters the diamond knurling, so that drawer handle’s due for a wipe. He lets Eweyan come on some high-micron plating, laps up the evidence. Sex with men, in the wild, is like jazz; it’s just—yeah, swing. Blunt instrument, he briefly wonders how the Eighth Scion’s body plays, yeek. 

Safrya! That was her name, he remembers the logo she drew. Y like the legs of the costume-throne lounge seat, likely scouted from an estate sale and re-upholstered in a washable for the money shots, and through it all, probably still more comfortable than every single fucking chair the Eighth has provided on this tour. 

“What complaint against comfort do these freaks have?” Boyd says in the sonic, accidentally. The fennel and grated wasabi (the hell?) face-wash fries his sinuses. 

“Right?” Eweyan gurgles around a toothbrush, naked except for his rosary bracelet and chain loafer suede mules. He lifts his braid to spit in the sink; the washcloth barely covers his chin. “I’ve been eating these cassava-root gummies—I think they’re for dogs.” 

Nonchalantly, toweling off, “What did the Eighth want to borrow me for?” He’s read up on Ben’s law. Even what little he was offered—made him kinda sick. 

Their clothes mingle on the scented, still-broken bed; afterwards, Boyd’s satin jacket lining will smell like juniper berry and red wine. Eweyan steps into his coat-dress with a shrug, hairline oily, rebraiding with his good side to Boyd. 

“To feed you to the mountain. She likes bilateral symmetry,” touching his own cheek, scanning Boyd’s expression. Under the rose-clay rosary beads, Eweyan’s formal wearable flares ulcerated orange: Funny, Boyd’s never seen it that color before. 

The hamster wheel in Boyd’s head whirls, slurry with come. 

“Huh,” he says, holding his socks. 

The bathroom door shuts of its own accord; the auto-tuned hornbill splits the silence.  

“I told you, I told him no,” Eweyan frowns, suddenly offended. Briskly dressing, sliding his wearable into a welt pocket: “Anyways, what does van-tue mean? When they chant at the end.”

Boyd steps into his padded suede ankle boots, rubs a stain off the split-grain. Lining’s wool; he should have packed a thinner sock. “Variant of a myriad chant. Means 10,000 years,” or a coupla trees. “It’s a big thing in Sinography. Shorthand for ‘forever.’” 

The corridor’s dark; on the exposed helipad, south side of the mountain, the docked airyacht peers into perforated mist, hunched granite domes, the chunky pulse of the service machinery, the ancient bee-hive kilns and white-resin weevils and the sticky red needles below. 

Back home, the ancients used to mix weird shit into their buildings. Tree bark, volcanic ash, rice, beer, piss. Supposed to heal cracks where they formed. 

From behind, Eweyan’s breath curls off his jaw, fennel-minty. “I don’t think I want the earth to have you.” 

He looks down dumbly at Eweyan’s arms around his torso, half-expecting a stick poke. “That a poem?”

“It’s a line from your robot-fucking screenplay.” To a tongue-tip, Eweyan’s teasing black jellybean lipgloss into his ear. He can smell the smile against his skin. 

Shit, Liv, I’ll give it up. 

Fine, he’ll die in exile with dirt in his mouth, just like his brother. 

“The dialogue was experimental,” he defends, Eweyan’s rosary beads pressing into his belly. Piss in a mortar.

Before the Second had bricks, they had boys. 

And beside, God don’t take a safeword. 

—

In much sport, an offensive player challenges a defender to a duel of imaginations: 

Can you think the way I do? 

Can you taste my pre-cog and mesh your muscle with mine? 

Or am I about to rip the binding from your mind?

—

Ben thinks, offensively: Can’t you let me die the way I want.

A myriad or more ago, when this Cathedral of Our Mum with the Good Nails was a dream curled in an ovary, livestock used to be driven around this mountain-foot eight times to ward off disease. Witness the rice villages where all the women wore wigs made of their foremothers’ hair; in this great genetic time-braid, mitochondrial mutations pass intact, an heirloom in a jade claw-clip. 

Owen’s an idiot if he thinks this lingerie’s gonna pull. Ben had seen the party dress, strung up, and laughed. Pouty mesh, pearl cuffs, pitiful. 

If he really knew what Ben liked, he’d be in a ringer tee, rugby jaw, scraping his bare dick against curved denim. Instead he’s here in this rehabbed confessional, a churchy cuddle-nook of black pitted tile, linear chandelier swinging its bulbs wildly against the dark.  

Owen’s meant to get ready. There’s a ceremonial bathing basin right under the chandelier, gobbling up most of the 8’ by 8’ floor plate. Wall hooks for clothes and towels, a hinoki bath bucket atop a matching stool. The steam, satsuma and cypress, is a little much on the sinuses. 

“They’re not going to start without me,” Owen says, standing naked by the filled tub, palm skiffing the water. From a nook, a pierced candle-holder casts firebugs over the anointed’s scabbed torso. 

Ribs flicking shadow, the anointed-elect’s nervous. Ben’s clothes are wet; Owen presses against him with a full promise, at sea level: 

“I’m giving you permission to misbehave, with honor,” he says into Ben’s damp neck. 

Above them, a single luna moth is trapped in the chandelier.

There’s a grey quick-dry mat, for grip. This unsupervised rig-up is where Ben’s supposed to finally admit it, dick slack between them, that he would like to, formally, stash in the vault, save it for the wedding night, in for a penny round—

The papal tiara’s gonna be heavy on Owen. The Seventh sent over an 18-pounder, made deliberately too small for his head. Three tiers, the cloisonné moves, he’ll receive the tiara adorned with three crowns and know that thou art mother of princes and kings, holy ruler of the world, earthworms on pavement like uncut pasta, a leather cock keyring on a dog clip, 

truth on earth of our Necro-Lord, to whom is honor and glory in the ascent, stained-glass tulle, sequins washed in the river, all well and fine at dinner, the owner setting out gratis pureed melon for the girls and condensed-milk tea for the adults, until Caro tried to order that one fried rice dish and he—almost hit her, the smell alone? the yell rollicking off his tongue, her alarmed eyes bouncing like garlic cloves on the pan, sliced tangerines on broiled duck, the takeout tipping over in the trunk so the car smelled like anise pork broth as he and Emma silently fought all the way 

church militant, church suffering, church triumphant in eternal date on the pier and he’d written down the recipes and burned the journals, left ‘em shredded in compost, pisco, falernum, passionfruit, grilled pineapple agave, borghetti, coffee, horchata foam, 

order — ma’am, it very much does appear this grown man is fucking your son— 

jurisdiction—how did you get clean, Ben? Do you even remember? You checked yourself into Nazareth Terrace because you lost your phone and concocted some wild story about

and magisterium, daddy, is a confessional where you tell the truth?

 The Emperor conquers! Reigns! Commands! Hear, O Necro-Lord

For the Keeper of the White Glass, everlasting safety! Redeemer of the glass, come to her aid

Holy Mother, Queen of Apostles, come to her aid 

Saint Malaga, Khauri, and Pavna, come to her aid

Saint Varsha, come to her aid

Saint Suvali, come to her grubby negotiations in rosy estates

For Supreme Pontiff and universal Father, life!

For the bishops, custodians of the apostolic faith and for the faithful in their care, life!

Saint Striata

Saint Kavala

Saint Matira

Saint Marbella

Saint Vigo

Saint Mesa

Saint Olema

Saint Bahira

Saint Trellica

Saint Trieste

Saint Cassale

First Martyr, First Schist, come to their aid, all ye holy sawed-raw on blond wood, his guts write like a dream, pinky-quartz

Journalistically, would knowing make the hurting less? 

No, 

Put your cock on the hinoki, he orders. A charred luna moth-wing drifts to his wrist. His blood’s the proper soak of a storm, like he just bellyflopped into a dirt-lot puddle while the gulls work overtime. Unload your pallet, short it out, mate, he saw you bring yourself off, show your dinosaurs, Boyd says in a jolly hand-wave, used to have an ex-girlfriend with a son, handsome kid, kinda, squint-hesitates, retarded, and man he loved those plastic toys, wave ‘em under my nose, we’d race ‘em along the apartment complex fences. They were precious and he wasn’t shy about sharing. Touches his buffed chest, above the rosy nipple. He didn’t know me, didn’t know I’d stay—I didn’t, his mom’s husband was an asshole—but shit was courageous. I try to live like that every day.

In this aromatic steam, every moan burns. He tells Owen, nicely, to put his dick on the hinoki shower stool, as you please. Corners are rounded, that’s good, Owen squeals as he lowers himself and finds the groove that digs right into, ah, the inky glide of Ben’s hands guiding his haunches, squeezing the acoustic fat that starvation won’t fix. Thisclose prey can’t dodge or jam, and Ben’s nearly knocked over on the grippy mat, probably where the previous cavaliers got fried, steam gouging their eyes.

“It won’t hurt me if you come,” he drily informs, but the hot jolt of Owen’s spine against his shirt, lungs tight, the sore throb—

No metaphors. He can finally admit it, his dick hard in quick-dry trousers, that he wants to finish on Owen’s face, pinch his constant-frequency clit to jam the soul-pull signal. Say something mean and then plunge his nose to Owen’s gash, where the pube-moss’s been razed. 

If Owen’s willing to offer an apology tour of his cosy cunt&ball quarry, Ben will take those fucking reparations starting now. Gag him, blind him, make the tile rattle. Hit him with the bucket, wipe him clean, see him get wed in some come-mantilla, please him, spoil him, let some—vapid prick—kiss him with hungry scoops, smell the dent in his pillow, flush his pills, feed him jam? Hold his pup wriggling to the light and lick its astonished eyelids clean?

No echo without a call. He’s impaled on these spikes of fantasy everywhere he goes, I come in you pre-installed, the boy says, the high of their grunt-deep call-and-response. The shame and the light. These contradictions breeding in his body the only magic you’ve ever known, we can close this audition, you can wake up to me on the balcony, the wind-cut linens, a moth-wing dress hooked on the wall, almost dry. I’m your arena, your kernel of the universe, the toy, the puzzle, the mystery, the blood, the pollution, end it but not yet, show me the kingdom to come, not that, but a white glass where we get the choreo right, scritching my hair while you remark, “I never had a dog,” and what did those sluts on the Seventh offer you? A new puppy, a new face? A fixed son, a forever-flushing toilet, mirrors all set to child’s height? 

“I’m your dream boy,” Owen insists, and knees to the mat, Ben submits, Ben wants this, vạn tuế, vạn tuế, vạn vạn tuế.

FOOTNOTE for civilian terms: 

“On-set? Oh yeah, lotta terms!” Boyd grins his hairline into the ruby lighting, all cinnabar. “Depends on consistency, production, and angle/object. You’re gonna wanna high-visc,” stretching his hands, “that means high-viscosity, Monomer A and Monomer B going cootchie-cootchie coo down your principal’s cheek in close-up,” mimicking a pretty linger, “but in group work, you’re gonna amp up the splash, take that dial from 12k cps to bout an 84,” reminiscing, “some directors get hyper-specific with the numbers, just so’s everyone on the same page.” His eyes mist, fond.

Over the Minister of Education’s chagrined shoulder, the Eighth House Scion is still sketching out his bento-uterus.  

“It’s all about communication,” he concludes to himself, scratching at his oblique through his kidskin shirting. “Makes the difference between 5cc of gob and a plug of groats drying down on your nutsack.”

[curemoonliite]

here's this year's naka-kon haul!

the ruby plush and the madoka soul gem were from @silvermoon424! we split an oshi no ko blind box and i got ruby and she got aqua!

i also got an ai figure i've been wanting, which i'll unbox after posting this!

some more madoka items! madohomu might not be my fave ship, but they're cute together and their kandi bracelet is super cute! the homura soul gem is a phone grip/ring/whatever it's called

some neopets stickers, featuring three of my fave species! always glad to see ixi getting some love.

this particular booth was part of a vtuber stamp rally and gave me a stamp even though i didn't buy vtuber merch from them. i did, however, end up buying some from another booth!

(having social anxiety and asking for this charm at a booth where they're selling both indie and corpo merch is like "i don't wanna cause discourse, i swear" and that's all i'll say about that rabbit hole)

glad to see so many people still making charms for older magical girl properties! tmm was my first proper japanese mg (my actual first was winx club)

i had the white version of this utena rosary, but some paint spilled on it when i moved back home with my parents, so i'm glad i found another one!

[beetlethebug]

so we know that like, Kristen's whole deal is religion and such, right? I'm just kinda thinking about the other Bad Kids and the Gods. Maybe it's my own multi-deity pagan ass just wanting to consider what it would look like. (I'm using primarily Forgotten Realms Gods and my absolutely vague knowledge of them).

This got long so read under the cut ;u;

Gorgug is absolutely Garl Glittergold's favorite child. He loves the shenanigans. Do you think he starts connecting with Gruumsh when he starts connecting with his birth parents? Baby Gorgug leaving bits of metal and toys he accidentally broke on the altar the Thistlesprings' have in their workshop. Gorgug pre-artificer offering up the songs he makes as a tricky sort of "metal" working. Feeling a connection to Gruumsh in the heats of his rage, the nudge of a hand during his frenzy guiding him to the right target. Keeping bits of scrap from their enemies to melt down into his next artificing project. He also probably talks to Helm, sometimes, asking for guidance on how to best protect his friends. Gorgug has big protector energy.

Adaine who is, in a way, a deity in her own right, depending how revered the Oracle is. I don't know if Adaine would connect with Elvish gods, but she and Oghma vibe. I think that after the Bad Kids all talk and bond, Kristen makes a joke about her being a Gruumsh follower with her furious fist and so Adaine jokingly buys a pin to wear in offering. Jawbone also had a talk with her about sometimes it can help to talk to someone about your anxiety--whether that be a counselor or even the Gods, sometimes. Just Adaine praying to Gruumsh to have the strength to punch her anxiety in the face is very beautiful to me. Azuth is the god of wizards, so he and Adaine might vibe. Adaine feels like the type to vibe with the Gods mostly in jest; she talks to them sometimes, but they're silly little guys to her. Because of Tracker and Jawbone's lycanthropy, I think she either has a small shrine to Galicaea or has the biggest beef with her imaginable. Maybe a little bit of both.

Riz. God. I think once Riz meets his Father, he definitely like, sets up a little shrine to him. Ancestor work feels really important to Riz. He dedicates a lot of self-care things to his dad, I think. Mainly sleeping and drinking water. Does he do them? No. But it's the thought that counts. Riz is definitely the like, mundane acts of worship. Incorporating it into miniscule parts of his day that would go undetected unless you knew him and where to look. He also probably has some devotional jewelry to Yondalla; I think that Penny probably had a habit of repeating prayers while touching the beads of her bracelet (kind of like a Rosary) and that rubbed off on him, especially when she was babysitting him. The whole family also probably have at least some sort of worship to Tyr due to their connection to justice and law enforcement. I think Sklonda is more connected with some of the deities associated with Goblins, specifically Gruumsh (can you tell I love him?) and Maglubiyet. He prays to war gods to get through the absolute shitshow of Adventuring school. He and Adaine probably dedicate their research to Oghma.

Fig is really interesting because I feel like she is probably in the vein of demon work instead of divinity. Although I think that she unironically thinks Riz's dad is super cool so like, playfully worships him. Fig is the Bad Kid that I feel like collects all the different pieces of her friends and wears them proudly upon herself. She dedicates concerts to Kristen's new deity of the week. She sighs and asks Oghma for help on exams; she includes prayers to Gruumsh in her tracks. I feel like Fig also might have a tendency to like, worship the people in her life. She thinks they're so important and she cares about them so much. So she elevates them to the status of a God in her mind. They are invincible. They are young and powerful and the bonds they share are much, much magical then some God who pretends to be high and mighty. Her body is an altar--she wears jewelry and draws sigils and uses so much color magick. She is, in a way, a walking beacon to the gods, saying, "Look at us! We're just as good as you, and if you doubt it, then we'll kick your ass!"

Fabian Seacaster my beloved. This man follows his Father's footsteps for a long time. He worships Gods of the tempest, of the sea and sailing. Yondalla holds a special place in his heart. Riz nearly has a conniption when Fabian corrects him on a prayer to Yondalla, and the two of them bond about it. But once this man starts dancing, this man worships Corellon Larethian with his whole chest. He does a lot of his worship through dancing. Moving his body, getting in touch with his roots. Because of the fire elemental, he also does some like, elemental magic? But I think a lot of his forms of worship come through bodily experiences. Braving a storm, dancing in front of a crowd, making just the right maneuver to protect his friends in battle. Sometimes he and Fig and Gorgug will sit together and make devotional playlists!

[pomegrandiosebeads]

i make rosaries now!

prices start at $80, depending on materials used. dm me to discuss a commission!

you can find the rest of my commission information (i also make keychains, bracelets, necklaces, glasses chains, and earrings) here, as well as my pay what you can tiers.

if it matters to you, i'm a multiply disabled nonbinary lesbian living in a red state. between autistic burnout and my physical & cognitive disabilities, i am unable to work for the foreseeable future. i live with my parents, and can't apply for disability because they believe i should be working. commissions & jewelry sales are my only source of income.

if you want to support me but can't afford or aren't interested in my jewelry, you can tip me on ko-fi or help buy supplies on throne!

thank you for reading & sharing and i love you all <3

[helltiervriska]

haii!!! im rlly interested in where you got the garments and parts for your kanaya cosplay. the outfit looks rlly good and ig im just looking for clothes like that so if you could point me in the direction of a shop that sells that kind of stuff thatd be great !! :D also ur rlly pretty and i love your cosplays theyre so cool !!

lmao so funny story.

outer satin top w symbol: hand sewn beads on butchered thrift store top. beads are from a broken bracelet my gramma gave me. had to chop the back up then pin it together with the safetypin-hairtie-safetypin manuver bcs it is maybe 10 sizestoo small

translucent black flowy top/skirt-like garment: bathing suit cover, pieces thrifted separately but from same source somehow

red top underneath: thrift store, butchered neckline. had to also pin this up in the back

red cross black velvet skirt: base thrifted, butchered/burnt/painted w fabric paint. birthday gift from my brother 3-4 years ago

rosary: thrifted, broken as fuck

cross earrings: crosses found on etsy, put on hoop earrings by me

silver hoops: thrifted a whole pack of them og from claires a while back. Score!

green large shiny decora earrings: thrifted

boots: 6yo clearance mens demonias, broke in the middle of this cosplay. had these bitches since i was 16!!!! 30$

corset: some cheap crap from amazon i got a few years back ill wear until i can afford an orchardcorset or it breaks entirely. cannot stress enough how much i do not reccomend wearing cheap corsets

contacts: i thiiink ifairy cara green. uniqso. tip: colored contacts absolutely make or break a cosplay. good to splurge on

makeup: everything green via eyeshadow/lipstick made by me. slowly in the process of formulating all my makeup bcs im very allergic to everything. black eyeliner is nyx, one pencil one felt tip. used on eyebrows/lips too. dont bother w lipliners/eyebrow products they r expensive and eyeliner/eyeshadow works perfectly well.

eyelashes: top were from local beauty supply, bottom lashes were like. wet n wild crap i got from a relative that i chopped up.

gray paint: mehron paradise, get it from the OG website if u dont need it quickly and want it a lil cheaper

fangs: cheap amazon bullshit. u can find fangs in bulk anywhere there no matter the seller theyre all from the same manufacturer so u always know ur getting cheap fucking crap

wig: CHEAP lace front from some beauty store clearance bin in DC, styled to hell and back

horns: made by meeee (model magic + modge podge/plaster outrecoat bcs model magic cracks like a bitch, i only use the low tier acrylics bcs who the fuck is gonna pay 20$ for a tube of something u can just layer a few times to get opaque)

armsocks: welovecolors (spraypainted w white cos i bought the dark gray instead if light gray like a dumbass, heavily abused). i highly reccomend welovecolors seamless armsock/seamless bodysuit line im trying to get their bodysuit at some point. expensive (45$ for the socks, 90$ for the bodysuit) but worth it bcos homemade armsocks rip stupid easily and id rather break my skull than paint my hands.

nails: cheap shit from sallys, painted w my mommas 10+ year old nail polish collection

i think thats it? yeah. its all cheap crap. all i can reccomend is find a local non-chain non-christianity based thrift store and go to town man . im not out here buying premade bullshit that i aint able to make myself! i dont ever spend a fortune on my cosplays. i find scarcity is key in innovation and creativity. use lots of safety pins. cheers.

oyea her wedding ring my nanna gave me when i was like. 12? it could be real onyx/gold but it could also be costume jcpennys shit. who knows

[aphrodite1288]

Please tell us the religion of other EXO members if you know

Take it with a grain of Salt. Those are screenshots from my archive many years ago. The members may have changed their beliefs.

The only confirmed members are Suho because he said it himself that he's Buddhist and Sehun because again he said it himself and wrote it in his chart and he always wears bracelets with Bible verses on them.

Most say Baekhyun might be Catholic or Christian because of his Rosary ✝️ Bracelet he once mentioned his mom gave it to him and he wore it since he was young because it brought him luck and protected him. But to ask me I don't know, but everyone says maybe he's christian because him and Chanyeol always wear couple shirts and rings and necklaces that have the "✝️" on them. Or maybe it's just a chanbaek thing Baek seems to like wearing anything Chanyeol buys for him they have a lot of couple shirts and items. Also Baekhyun's obsessed with Chanyeol's Closet anyways he always steals clothes from him. 😅

Jongin is not a practitioner of the religion he's more lenient and open. Not too religious but still a decent. I don't know if he really wears it cos of religion or just accessory styled by his stylists.

You should know such thinks are subjective and you can't know them at all unless the idol himself tells you or you see him going to church or Temple. Here's below the differences between Catholic and Christian and Protestant

[lars-n-drix]

Nicholas who's trying to rejoin the Christian faith yet is still doubtful. It's not like reconnecting with an old friend who you lost contact for years after drifting apart. Rather, it's more akin to trying to become friends with a tumultuous ex after all the dust has settled.

He had gotten rid of all his religious paraphernalia. No longer owning a bible nor a cross, not even the Punisher. Not even a rosary. Nicolas now feels like he has to prove himself—prove that he can be faithful. Vash is the one that convinces him that it's okay to buy it. Especially as it might help him feel closer to his lord and savior.

Instead, he buys a bracelet with chunky glass beads on it. Nothing too fancy as the words of how adornment shouldn't be external played on loop in his head. Ultimately, it gives him peace of mind. Feeling a bit more secure in his choices as he takes it off his wrist, folding it in half. Rubbing his thumb over the beads' texture as it sat in his palm.

Nicholas let silence fill the room, still struggling to find the words for prayer. How he hoped the rumination was taken into consideration. That his trying wasn't for naught. Eventually getting up to join Vash in bed.

[tabslabs]

My Best Friends Have All Been Named “Gabby”

Your name was Gabriella, it probably still is, but everyone called you Gabby.

G-a-two bs and a y

Our first grade teacher decided she’d call me Tabby too, because we were such good friends.

T-a-two bs and a y

My mom objected, “It’s spelt T-a-b-i! All the letters are already in your name!” I remember that.

But I wanted to match you.

So when we were a pair, I would be Tabby, and you would be Gabby.

I think we met in preschool, I don’t remember how many times I went to your house anymore…

But I remember the living room- or rather I remember your 3:4 CRT TV and sitting on the floor around it.

We watched shark boy and lava girl there once, in 3D. There must’ve been a whole group because we didn’t have enough blue & red glasses for everyone… I watched it without them.

I remember showing off our Barbies on that floor in front of that TV… one of your dolls sang songs from Princess & the Pauper. I think another was a fairy.

I remember your kitchen, I remember the island countertop. I think we ate there. I think I made food with your parents there. I don’t remember your parents.

I want to say we made tortillas in your kitchen. I have vivid memories of using a tortilla press many times as a young child, but I don’t know who else I could have made them with…

I had gas station tacos in Texas recently. They felt like tacos I used to make with someone.

Homemade, small, authentic. Familiar. They tasted like a memory I can’t place.

I think it was with you.

Haha how embarrassing would it be if I didn’t make them with you after all.

I don’t remember your bedroom, but I remember you had a lava lamp, and I was jealous of it.

I remember you moved away before second grade.

You moved to Pennsylvania. You were kinda close to Bushkill Falls and lived in the woods.

I visited you two or three more times. Each time a surprise planned by our parents.

I remember your new house had one of those fake rooms above your front door that you can’t reach. I remember saying we should try to jump the distance from the second floor and you telling me not to.

I remember sleeping in your bed and waking up to the sweetest cereal I ever had. They were probably just lucky charms or fruit loops.

I remember going to Sunday School with you and not understanding what exactly was going on. I answered the questions right and got to pick a prize… I chose a bracelet because it was the least obviously Christian to me. I did not know what a rosary was.

I might still have that rosary…

In the car back to your place we listened to something about Christmas around the world. I also remember that they said that people in China made the Christmas ornaments everyone buys.

I remember that confused me. My family had German ornaments.

We said we’d see each other on our birthdays when we left.

And then I never saw you again.

…

In 8th grade I met another girl named Gabby online.

G-a-two bs and a y

My family didn’t believe in online friendships at the time, they thought I was being catfished or preyed on.

I told them she was my friend Gabby and didnt live nearby.

“Oh the one who moved away?”

“…yeah…”

I used you as an excuse for my new friendship to exist. Hope you’re cool with that?

This Gabby’s name is Gabrielle. I remembered because it wasn’t your name. Her name is still Gabrielle.

She became my best friend too. But we never met in person until after I had graduated from college.

I have memories of her family and her school though. We would often go on camera. She introduced me virtually to her German teacher once and I’ve seen her younger brother with his shirt off.

I don’t know if she had a lava lamp in her bedroom. I don’t know what Barbies she had.

But maybe those things wouldn’t have been so impressive to me at 14 anyway.

She was my maid of honor at my wedding. I wonder if you’re married…

I wonder if you hadn’t moved away if you would’ve stayed close enough to come too.

I drifted away from all my other childhood friends anyway… maybe it was always a matter of time.

I just hope it wouldn’t’ve ended like my last childhood friendship…

I still have your picture in my bookshelf. I never felt right getting rid of it entirely. I just moved it under some books.

I don’t know if I want to reconnect… I’m not sure what that would even be like. I haven’t missed you in over a decade.

But when I hang out with her, we’re still Tabby and Gabby.

And I think of you.

[weeping-laurels]

What do e and n look like? -🛍️

You can stop reading once you reach the cologne descriptions if you don’t wanna bother with all the added praise and fluffiness.

E: 18, 5’10, broad shoulders, stocky, strong and slightly chubby, his slight tummy is adorable. Brown hair that’s straight and short but fluffy, parted just slightly to the right, soft hooded brown eyes, a round face, medium brown skin, a short beard, he’s Mexican Filipino, oh and very hairy which is incredible. Wears mostly light colored t-shirts, sweaters and sweatshirts, often paired with his two favorite corduroy jackets or his varsity jacket which is burgundy and tan and looks so good on him. White trendy sneakers. And linen pants, or khakis, almost never jeans or cargo pants like most of us, oh and he has this pair of chinos that badly make me want to sit on his lap whenever I see him in them. And his cologne is like this smoky Texas cedar that’s reminiscent of burning wood or leather paired with like this smooth, earthy patchouli that’s like soil when it rains or even dare I say like chocolate, and also sweet vanilla and a citrus like bergamot that balances out the raw bold woodsiness so well but whatever formulation is used for the synthetic cedar, I have to know, because it’s the only one I know that doesn’t bother my nose and that I haven’t gone noseblind to despite being around E all the time. Anyway I’m rambling. HE SMELLS WONDERFUL. His hugs are amazing, his hands are big and holdable, his voice is deep and he’s soft-spoken and has an accent (Spanish is his first language). He has the tendency to get very close to me and whisper something right in my ear that he thinks we should keep between us (usually just jokes, but when he curses I imagine something else entirely). When we walk the crowded halls to and from class he’ll keep close and put his hand on my lower back to help guide me since I’m claustrophobic in crowds. He has a promise ring on his finger, a couple of braided boyfriend bracelets on his wrist that bring me back down to Earth when I remember why they’re there. Sometimes I’m appalled when I realize he might see me as a little sister because of the way he always pats my head, ruffles my hair and calls me short or the things I do cute. He’s playful and a tease and sexy. He likes when I get flustered over something, but can’t bear to see me upset. He cries when I cry. Laughs when I laugh. Stares when I stare. And stares, himself. He’s Catholic (but very progressive) and he keeps a tiny Bible in his bag and his friends make fun of him for it. He likes to read it from time to time in Spanish, and keeps a rosary in his backpack. He says I look like how he’d imagine La Virgen and honestly I’ve never blushed more. To say I look like the mother Mary, the prettiest, most beautiful woman in the eyes of Catholics, goodness it makes me weak. He’s always curious when I buy a new indie perfume and likes to bend down to my neck and guess what it is. Swoon. Then he’ll look up at me and go “um, is it an ancient library? A cabin in the woods?” “It’s called Hallows’ Eve Museum Heist.” And he’ll close his eyes and breathe me in again til it clicks for him. He’ll tell me he gets it with the most satisfied look on his face.

N: 30s, I would estimate 6’1. Slender, very fit, muscular, does a lot of working out and lifting and running. Has the nicest ass. Dark blonde hair that’s wavy some places, curly others and that I can best describe as like Christian Bale’s long, but not longest hair. He’s saying he should cut it. I’m begging him not to. God. His wife wants him to cut it. He’s now saying he’ll hold off. He’s white. American. Light skinned, but tan too because he’s out in the sun a lot. He’s often half naked whenever I happen to see him… otherwise it’s t-shirts, tight long-sleeves with the sleeves always rolled up, paired with unbuttoned flannels he can barely keep on and cardigans and long coats. The occasional district meeting button-up. Jeans. Always jeans. Shirtless? Better be with jeans. Big boots, Converses. If I’m lucky, a tan cowboy hat. He wears this pretty belt a lot that I can picture tied around me, and his wedding ring is always on. My favorite outfit of his? His concert black. His all black suit… oh, it must drive all his band girls wild. And while E smells like cedarwood, it’s funny because N’s signature base note is sandalwood: rich, smooth like butter or soft wood, so gently, effortlessly sensual. Creamy, milky, like ambrosia of the Gods, paired with something fruity and somewhat floral like fig, as well as myrrh for an incensey handful of dried fruits under the sun. And again, some bergamot for a hint of spice and earthiness that reminds me of our backyards. Maybe some cocoa, but I can’t quite tell—all I know is he smells like the best cafe I’ve ever been to, where they had a stage with an unknown band always playing. So, so comforting. And his voice is so sexy too, so confident and calm, and he constantly has the cadence of how you’d imagine saying “you’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” And he does. “You got an A on that essay huh, good girl.” “That’s a good girl.” “Attagirl.” More recently, “there's my girl.” And I die a little bit each time. He likes standing behind me and holding my shoulders when talking to someone else about me, when praising me. He loves to take me to his music room and have me sit on the couch while he plays me something he’s really proud of, usually on his guitar or piano. His concentration and skilled fingers really stir me, and he likes to watch for my reaction and smile when he sees me enjoying him, before getting all focused and intense again. In the corner of this room he also has an easel with a shelf full of oil pastels. And he’s so damn messy with these, he manages to get the colors all over him. He gardens outside… spends a lot of time on his hands and knees. He’s such a good cook, the few times they’ve invited me for dinner he insisted on cooking. Sometimes I’m worried he sees me like a niece, with the way he likes to treat his kids and me, the way he talks about me to his wife and the way he’s so comfortable around me and with me being in his home. I know the whole layout of their kitchen and their house, and borrow things from them all the time. I even have a spare key. They’re Protestant but he he’s managed to let me know he doesn’t really practice and that he believes firmly in sex before marriage, which is hilarious. Completely unrelated, but one thing I appreciate that he never does is invite his students over to his house. The closest is me. And I’m very okay with that. In October he went for a long evening run so I watched his kids, when he got back he was panting and sweating and said “thank you Daphne” in the best possible way. I waited with them for him to finish showering, he stepped out from the hallway with wet hair (oof) wet shoulders (oooof) and a towel around his waist, then apologized because he forgot his clothes. His daughter giggled at a face I made when he walked away and when he returned in a t-shirt and sweatpants she told him about my face seeing him “naked”, and he laughed and said “Sarah, we should leave Daphne alone to her thoughts” while looking me straight in the eye.

Ugh, I’m so fucked knowing these men.

In any case, I tried to be as thoughtful as possible so you can hopefully know them too. Thanks for the ask!

[golden-route]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Unique 10K Tri Tone Multi Color Gold Rosary Bead Ball Link Chain Bracelet - 7" L.

[bat-last]

hey, im artemis, you can call me artem. or roman. i'm a 17 yr old trans-masc bisexual, my pronouns are they/he. my hobbies include but are not limited to; music, literature, singing, working out, writing, and making/customizing clothing. i'm just a near adult boy who loves a lot of things. i use the word love not so sparingly, so you're going to have to bear with me here. im kind of a dog...

music im into and familiar as fuck with right now:

type o negative, mitski, system of a down, idk how, dom fera, fish inside a birdcage, destroy boys, rammstein, jack off jill, the buttertones, cigarettes after sex, siouxsie, and a whole bunch more stuff

as i write to you, i realize that i'm finally becoming the age i dreamed of being when i was 12, i will finally be able to express myself exactly how i want to. i'll finally be able to get top surgery! i'll be able to go on t and have my real voice. fuck high school! fuck my mom! im gonna get the hell out of here!!!!!

i wish i had friends i so sincerely wish i did. im so terrifyingly lonely but also very fucking afraid of more disappointments.

i think this is my new therapy, tumblr of all things, pfft.

im so excited and so scared of becoming an adult. the free trial is finally coming to an end and i'll be able to be myself fuck im so happy i get to reinvent myself like this okay enough with the rant where was i...

oh i want to dress masc but so much more than i have been. i wanna go thru my clothes and figure out what does and doesnt spark joy. i wanna smoke weed and be a dumb college kid. i wanna get wasted so hard it feels like my eyes are falling out. i wanna hook up with girls i only just met. i wanna be friends with all kinds of people.

im gonna dress punk ish. more like alt or something.

colors: primarily black, white to contrast, some very dark primary colors sprinkled in (and lots of silver metals)

vibes?: 90s goth, punky vampire, kurt cobain with baggier pants type shit, etc etc

accessories: need a rosary, various chains, chunky earrings, cuffs and weird bracelets, potentially random thrifted necklesses and also hats potentially

where to buy?: etsy, MAYBE..... TEMU/any fast fashion company online.... but my morales are stubborn as fuck tho like. ew fast fashion disgusting. i can thrift or buy cool shit off ebay, make a bunch of shit. but damm i gotta plan and visualize more of what i do wanna make

ok pt. 2 tmr bc im falling asleep. oh dont forget to remind me to write out all my kinks and stuff tmr, i feel like its a very important aspect of who i am. also love language obvvvv. goodnight universe.

[famousjewelrytrends]

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[smtown-tourist-juliette]

Juliette Chapter 39 Cover

It's the night before Jonghyun's long-awaited return from Hiatus and he is filled with anxiety. He's afraid that the fans have forgotten him, or worse - thinks that SHINee is better of without him. Lucky, he has five amazing groups members to help cheer him up. Join the SHINee members as they distract Jonghyun from his worries and celebrate their 5th year anniversary with some never-before-told stories from their rookie years.

Jonghyun isn't the only one in dire need of distracting as Hana comes face to face with her new biggest fear: the beach. SHINee is in Okinawa to film the music video for Boys Meet U, the title track of their next Japanese album, and Hana is feeling on edge, fearing being triggered by the familiar setting. However, unlike with Jonghyun, the SHINee boys don't seem to realize that being on a beach is a problem for Hana and she quickly grows resentful and envious of their abilities to have fun and enjoy the beach setting. Will Hana be able to keep herself from having a flashback, and will her group members ever take notice that Hana is secretly suffering?

Taemin has gone away with the rest of SHINee to prepare for their next Japanese Comeback and the start of their SHINee World 2013 concert tour. It's hard being away from Naeun for so long but We Got Married decides to help him out by taking him on an impromptu shopping trip to buy Naeun a gift. It's the day before SHINee's concert in Osaka. Will going out in public with so many Shawols lerking around be safe for Taemin?

During his shopping trip, among many things, Taemin buys Naeun a new rosary bracelet to replace the one she lost. He hopes to give it to her before Apink's Comeback Stage for their newest release, NoNoNo, but being stuck in Japan, that's easier said than done. It's Kai and EXO to the rescue as the boy group helps Taemin surprise Naeun and Apink. Now that she has the rosary bracelet, will Naeun wear it on stage with her? Will Taemin have the time to watch the Live Broadcast or will SHINee's concert get in the way?

What's this? Key is going on a date with a girl?! After mistakenly asking Taemin to set him up on a blind date with one of the Apink members on camera, Key finds himself paired with Eunji on a blind turned double date with Taemin and Naeun. Key has no problem with pretending to like Eunji for the sake of the show, but with Eunji be able to tell that the affections Key shows her are all fake? Lying is the name of the game as Key must work hard to convince the world that he's straight while also keeping Eunji from falling in love with him. Will someone as horrible of a liar as Key be able to do so effectively, and will Taemin be of any help during all of this?

Discover how the power of love and the help of others resonates with our favorite idols in Chapter 39 - Live, Laugh, Love, Lie. Head on over to Asianfanfics to check it out!

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WEEK 9 - Draft Poster Presentation (Left Side Elements)

20 Elements/Objects

1.Baybayin 'Palangga' - Baybayin is a pre-colonial script from the Philippines historically used for writing and communication, it serves as a cultural heritage symbol and source Filipino pride. This reads ‘Palangga’ which translates to ‘Beloved’, one of many nicknames my grandparents have called me since forever.

2. Rosary - Born into a Catholic household, in times of joy and sorrow, the rosary is a constant, offering solace and a profound reminder of our Catholic heritage and the importance of faith in my family’s life.

3. Luggage - Leaving my home country was akin to zipping up that suitcase, a bittersweet moment of closure, with each zip echoing the finality of a chapter’s end and the promise of a new adventure waiting to be unpacked.

4. Goko Film Camera - My film camera is a time capsule for my memories. It brings a unique, deliberate mindfulness to preserving moments in a world of digital convenience. Each click of the shutter captures a piece of my history, it’s a tangible link to my past, preserving my life’s essence in a way no digital device can.

5. Star Bracelet - The star bracelet my mom gave me is a precious keepsake that holds immense significance in my life. It’s not just a piece of jewelry; it’s a symbol of her love and the countless times she’s been there for me, like a guiding star in my journey.

6. Dream Catcher - During my childhood, the dream catcher above my bed was a source of wonder and comfort. I believed in its ability to ward off nightmares and found solace in its delicate twine web and gentle feathers. It was a tangible link between my imagination and the mysterious realm of dreams, a treasured reminder of the power of belief.

7. Three Stars and a Sun - The three iconic shapes in the Philippine flag. My culture and heritage is something I truly am proud of, I cherish my experiences and will always refer to Philippines as my home.

8. Passports - My passport is my humble reminder of being a first gen immigrant. It represents not only my identity but also the hopes and dreams of my family who left their homeland for a new beginning. My passport is a tangible symbol of resilience.

9. Plane Ticket - The thrill of new adventures, diverse cultures, and breathtaking landscapes fills me with a profound sense of joy.

10. Philippine Jeepney - The filipino jeepney has truely been part of my most vivid memories, from falling asleep in it on the way to school to riding it on the way to the airport where I had to part ways from my loved ones to immigrate to NZ.

11. Grandma - Maming has been my number one supporter for as long as I can remember. From the earliest days when she cheered me on at school ceremonies & games to the more recent milestones like graduation and career achievements, her pride in me has never wavered, she has been a guiding light.

12. Headphones -Music is an escape for me, it’s there when I need to focus, cheer up or extinguish my emotions. My Bose Headphones are always with me wherever I go, it feeds into my creativity and helps me visualise my ideas.

13. Fridge Magnets - Being fortunate enough to travel to different countries, growing up in a family full of memory hoarders, we always make sure to buy a fridge magnet suitable to the place where we are to bring souvenir back home.

14. Record Player - In our family, the record player is significant as we come together to share our love for music. It’s not just a source of creativity but a bond that unites us, these are memories that I can cherish forever.

15. Dog Tag - My dog is my best friend, I wouldn’t know what I would do without my Bucky.

16. Journal - A journal is a treasured tool for self-reflection. Its blank pages become a sanctuary for my thoughts, dreams, and emotions, where I can pour out my innermost self.

17. Sea Shell - Being born in an area near the water and still being close to water to this day, I find the ocean as my comfort place especially going to the beach to cool down or to past time. I’ve also grown up to collect shells from beaches that I have visited.

18. Before the coffee gets cold - Written by Toshikazu Kawaguchi, It underscores the importance of seizing the present moment & expressing one’s feelings.

19. Backpack - Backpack is an essential companion, reliably holding all my important essentials close at hand. Beyond its practicality, my backpack symbolizes independence, self-sufficiency, and readiness to tackle whatever challenges come my way.

20. Acoustic Guitar - Coming from a family full of music enthusiasts, I am fortunate enough to own a guitar and learn songs along with compose my own for my own enjoyment. It feeds into my creativity.