#capped by vapor

[lord-of-the-weird]

What was Def Leppard's first photoshoot? I need to see that now, dhjsjska

😐

[monsieurbj]

DO NOT REBLOG IN NSFW, 18+ (Porno, Naked), AND not in TRASH BLOGS, racism, politic, guns/wars blogs, thanks. Thanks for your views!

Cap cloud that blew north from Mount Rainier now over Seattle, WA as is the commercial airplane that took off from Sea/Tac. Early morning flight.

[whats-in-a-sentence]

Taken as a whole, we refer to the Earth's water as the hydrosphere or the aqueous environment. The distribution of the Earth's water is shown in Fig. 9.1.

"Environmental Chemistry: A Global Perspective", 4e - Gary W. VanLoon & Stephen J. Duffy

[johnbrand]

Runner's Gas

“Well if it isn’t our little Spark!” Brick playfully taunted, twisting around the black cap on his head. “Looking to catch up to the big leagues?”

Aaron rolled his eyes, continuing to stretch out his toned, limber legs. “What, are you afraid I’m going to catch up to your varsity team?”

Brick smirked. “You wouldn’t dare.” As captain, and the fastest runner on the team, the college senior was proud of his position on top.

“Maybe I would,” Aaron’s smile held that youthful glow all overachievers had. Although he was only a sophomore, he had been sweeping competitions left and right. No one was able to beat him and his “spark of energy” that was always reserved for the last second, hence his nickname.

“What do you say we put it to the test?” Brick prompted, his lithe frame already warmed up after a few quick laps. Besides being a bit taller than Aaron, their runner’s builds were almost identical. 

“If you’re willing to lose,” Aaron cockily replied, enjoying the friendly competition. He could feel the build of adrenaline slowly pumping throughout his veins. A brisk wind was lightly pushing against them, tickling their bare skin. “Mind if I lunge once or twice?”

“Not at all,” Brick remarked, taking his place a few steps behind. “Gives me a chance to take in your backside, seeing as I won't have the pleasure of viewing it again.”

Aaron followed through with his final stretches, feeling his slim muscles flex and retract appropriately. He was excited for this challenge, pleasantly daunted to be taking on his school’s top champ. Their times had been fairly similar, but being in different leagues had meant the two had never been able to compete.

Getting lost in his own head, Aaron did not realize his bowels were rapidly processing information. His body was inappropriately following through with hereditary protocols, having accidentally registered Brick as a threat. Finishing his final lunge, Aaron registered the dreadful rippling in his stomach. But at that point, there was no stopping what was coming next. Aaron’s excitement immediately twisted into fear.

“Watch out!”

PPPPHHHRRTTTT!

Brick had no time to prepare as a massive fart cloud was carried downwind directly into his face. The flatulence bombarded him, its odorous vapors blinding him temporarily and knocking him onto his flat bottom. Aaron immediately rushed in, desperately searching for a way to reverse what had been done. Luckily no one had seen the incident, as the chemical reaction that was about to ensue was–as far as Aaron knew–unreversable.

Brick was sitting back comfortably, dazed and desensitized by the prey’s natural defense. Aaron had accidentally attacked the college senior with runner’s gas. An evolutionary condition, runner’s gas was a fumigation technique used by “weaker” species to protect themselves against predators. The flatulence released altered the predator’s abilities, rendering them bulkier, slower, and dumber, allowing the prey to flee. It was a genetic trait that should have eroded away with evolution, particularly as humans grew more alike. But some were still left with the condition, making its activation incredibly rare and almost always unintentional.

Aaron watched helplessly as Brick’s skin began to ripple. The track star’s body expanded in size, growing taller, longer, and larger. Muscle exploded across his frame, destroying the slim physique by covering it in layer after layer of pure-grade beef. Rounded arms led into broader shoulders, pillowy pecs led straight down to a thicker pack of eight abdominals. Thighs bulked into true haunches, feet so large that their width would prevent them from travelling quickly without the risk of tripping.

As Brick’s buttocks and pouch inflated, Aaron’s eyes trailed up along his victim's body, following the swarm of hair that swiftly painted itself along the surface of skin. He could do nothing as Brick’s jaw cracked into a square shape, as his forehead pushed itself a bit farther out, or as the twinkle of intelligence was dimmed in his eyes. As quick as it had come, the chemical reaction rapidly subsided, leaving behind a new dumb jock in its wake.

“Hey…” Aaron cautiously poked, the college senior now twice his size. He knew they would have to move before anyone saw them. There was one person in particular that he feared.  “Come on, we need to get you out of here before-”

“McNeal!” 

The coach’s gruff shout sent a shiver under Aaron’s skin. He was too late.

“What is this, your fifth one?” The coach was shaking his head as he approached. “It’s one thing to be gassing the competition, but your own team?” 

“It…it was an accident,” Aaron stared at his own feet, embarrassed.

The coach huffed, “Who was it this time?” The affected party was still sitting on the ground, brainwashed and stretching his new muscles slowly. “McNeal…is this my captain?!”

Aaron said nothing. They both watched as the dumb jock began to take in his surroundings.

“Brock,” the coach provided the former captain with a new name. “What are you doing on the track? Football practice takes place on the other side of the complex.

Brock took a moment to process this. “Oh right...." his chuckle was lifeless. “Huhuhuh…I can be so stupid sometimes.” Aaron and the coach simply observed as Brock accepted this new reality.

“Luckily for you,” the coach sighed. “We needed a few more boys on the football team.”

[v1rtualsalvat10n]

there is no market for this. this is purely self indulgent guys please don't hunt me down for this.

you're a chemistry student and you steal a bottle of chloroform from your lab. we all know what comes next. obvious tw for (consensual) drugging.

disclaimer that solvents are bad they can kill easily and there is no safe way to use them don't try this at home guys

Luigi sets the brown, glass bottle in front of you, staring you down while he does.

"Was looking for my charger in your room after I left it in there and found this stashed behind your dresser."

You freeze, face flushing red as you look down at it's label. Trichloromethane. God dammit, you knew you should have hid that somewhere better. Absolutely anywhere better.

"You stole this, right? I mean, it makes sense, you're around chemicals all day and you decided to at least make the most of your arsenal, huh?" He raises an eyebrow.

"It's chloroform," you mumble out. He chuckles softly, taking the bottle and running his eyes along the words printed on the label. "I know it is. I looked it up because honestly, I didn't expect you to tell me that's what it was." He glanced up at you as he said the next sentence.

"You gonna tell me why you stole it, or do you want me to wager a guess?"

You fiddled with your hands for a moment, staring down at the table beneath you, before speaking.

"Can I just show you?"

—

You sat on your bed, Lu behind you, on his knees. The sound of him twisting off the bottle's cap made you tense up in anticipation, as he dabbed the liquid onto a pure white hand towel.

"I'm sure you're already aware of how dangerous this is."

"You're the one who agreed to it," you mumble, and he tilts his head in understanding. He brings his arms around you, one hand clutching the soaked rag, the other resting on your thigh.

"If you want me to stop, tap my arm twice and I'll let you breathe." He nuzzled into your neck, looking at you as he slowly pressed the fabric to your mouth and nose. We're really doing this, you think to yourself.

You take a deep inhale of the fumes, being met with a sickly sweet scent that surprised you. It encouraged you to press your hand against his, forcing the rag closer, as you took another breath, reveling in the pleasant scent of it.

"Careful," he coos, and fuck his voice sounds so good. "Don't take too much at once, amore."

You don't listen, chasing the high as you take another huff, feeling it fill your lungs. The tension in your body starts to melt as you lean back against him, maybe a little harder than intended because he holds your waist to stabilize you.

Now the intoxication is clear. Your vision turns hazy and the corners of it darken as the world swirls around you. It looked grainy yet clear, like a sharpness filter, and your overhead light was suddenly blinding, so you shut your eyes softly.

Your breathing turns more shallow as you pant softly, moaning into his hand, feeling his bulge press against your back. What could he say? You were helpless under him, and that turned him on more than he cared to admit.

"You know," he whispers, the sound of his voice making you dizzy. "In movies and TV shows, it takes only a minute or two for someone to black out from chloroform. But in real life it takes quite a bit longer, isn't that interesting?" He pressed the rag harder to your nose, prompting you to take another deep inhale.

A strange, siren-ish whirring makes itself clear, and every time he spoke that sound would ease up, so you pushed your hips back against his to draw a moan out of him. "Fuck," he whined. "I might not be able to wait that few minutes for you to pass out."

The cool vapor against your nostrils felt so good, you couldn't stop yourself from desperately huffing it, one of your hands reaching down to rub yourself through your shorts. He notices, and swats your hand away, replacing it with his own.

"You're soaked," he observes. "The idea of me using you while you're unconscious gets you off, huh?"

You let out a muffled confession into the rag, your body beginning to feel heavy and numb. It was originally used as anesthetic, after all, so that made enough sense - and he had to hold you closer to keep you from toppling.

"What's wrong? Feeling sleepy?" You nodded softly, eyes still shut as you tried to open them, the brightness of your room almost nauseating to look at. You whined in discomfort, and he covered your eyes with his hand, leaning you back onto him.

"Shh, don't fight it. Just let yourself go, amore. I'll take care of you." When you'd closed your eyes, you felt his hand slip back down between your legs, still rubbing his two fingers on your clit, his cock throbbing under his jeans.

Fuck. His voice was so soothing, and your body just felt so heavy that you wanted to give up. You stayed there, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, mind spinning as he rubbed the last of your logical thinking away.

He slipped your panties aside and pushed his two fingers inside, and that was enough for you. You took another deep inhale, the deepest yet, your head throbbing pleasantly again as you felt yourself slip.

What he did after that? Well... you woke up with tons of hickeys, half your clothes off, and a hangover, so it didn't leave much to the imagination.

But he was there, with a glass of cold water and lots of kisses for you.

"Have you learned not to steal, darling?"

[elbiotipo]

There is a trope in older sci-fi that Mars was once green planet like Earth, but then something happened and it turned into a dessert where water is scarce, but biosphere ultimately survived.

Like, is there any way something like this can happen realistically on any planet? Maybe not water disappearing of the planet but largely going deep underground so it's not accessible to surface inhabitants?

Well, it IS what literally happened to Mars. Actually, what happened, or what it's believed happened, is that Mars didn't have enough of a magnetic field to prevent the solar wind from stripping away its atmosphere, and it didn't have a large mass like the Earth to keep it in any case. Incidentally, this is why the Moon is also lifeless despite being in the "habitable zone" where it could have liquid water: it simply doesn't have a magnetic field or is massive enough (despite being so big it could count as the Solar System's 5th inner "planet"). Another thing against Mars is its apparent lack of plate tectonics, which, at least on Earth-like worlds, require oceans as a "lubricant", so to speak. Without plate tectonics and only with ocassional volcanoes, the Martian atmosphere and its CO2 could not regenerate (and this is vital for keeping greenhouse gases, especially for a world far away from the Sun like Mars), so it's the way it is today.

However, this was apparently a slow process. Oceans on Mars apparently existed as far as 2 billion years ago, at the same time Earth also had life. It's possible that the own circulation of the water in the ocean managed it to keep from freezing, even if the atmosphere was cold. This is all very on the air right now but if this is true, it means that the Solar System had 2 worlds with liquid water oceans. Maybe 3, the situation at Venus is not well known.

And indeed, like you said, water doesn't just "dissapear", it has to go somewhere. In the case of Mars, it froze underground and on the ice caps, or otherwise was blown away as water vapor as the atmosphere depleted (with not atmospheric pressure, it can't remain as liquid). This is still hugely debated though. Every time something like water flows or subsurface lakes is discovered there's endless debate on what's going on Mars, but I think it's fair to say there must be lots of frozen water there.

In worldbuilding, you could indeed have a desert world this way. It could be that intelligent life evolved at the last days of it as an oceanic world, with the water cycle mostly locked in glaciers and sub-surface ice, and besides the equator everything else is cold, barren desert. In fact, Mars is basically this. If it had a breathable atmosphere it would resemble such a setting.

However, one has to wonder how would life would survive in such a setting, if there's no oceans with phytoplankton or forests and vegetation to replenish oxygen. Vegetation is very hardy, many deserts that aren't dunes or rock have some. But there are limits.

Arrakis from Dune had this same logical problem and Frank Herbert knew it. He solved it by making the sandworms (MAY HIS PASSAGE CLEANSE THE WORLD. MAY HE KEEP THE WORLD FOR HIS PEOPLE) produce oxygen. This makes a lot of sense. After all, Dune is covered in dunes, and sand is made mostly of silicon dioxide. So if the digestive processes of the sandworm digest silicon dioxide, this would give a lot of oxygen. How many sandworms and at what rate would they produce oxygen is debatable, but there is a working mechanism. Some funky stuff like that might work in places like Tatooine too. But I believe even some small oceans or places with vegetation would be able to sustain an oxygen atmosphere, especially if the atmosphere was oxygenated already. It's a careful balance though.

Another way to get desert worlds is to look at the future of our own Earth. Even before the Sun becomes a red giant, the Sun will increase in brightness and the temperature will rise. One billion years from now, most carbon dioxide on the atmosphere will be sequestered by erosion and geological processes, and if not replenished by volcanoes and tectonics (which are predicted to slow down too, especially with the oceans deplenishing), there would be little photosythesis with only hardy plants surviving, most life will only survive in the poles or at high altitudes, it's likely that water life will also start going extinct without dissolved oxygen. The oceans will also eventually start to evaporate and there are two options here: Earth might become a hellish greenhouse world like Venus, if they evaporate slowly and it remains in the atmosphere, or the evaporation might be rapid, which might make, as I understand it, a brief wet period, and then desert as it desintegrates in the upper atmosphere. It all depends on how long tectonics go on (as continents grow, deserts will too) and if there are other events, though. This is still hugely debated, currently I'm reading The Life And Death of Planet Earth which talks about such happy topics as these.

There's also another posibility, that your planet just wasn't formed with enough water and atmosphere in the first place. It's some point of debate on how much water and atmospheric pressure an Earth-like planet needs to sustain life. But you could concievable have a much lesser atmosphere and surface water than Earth, and this atmosphere would remain 'sunk' in lowlands, valleys, craters, etc. separated by lifeless highlands (or highlands with very sparse extremophile life). This might make some really strange stuff, but it would be great for a speculative biology project.

(if you liked this post and would like to read more worldbuilding stuff, consider tipping me here!)

[hexwhore]

HIII BRIIII I’m so excited you’re doing this AUGHH Smooch kiss

How about 148 + trans Viktor? 👀

Yee-haw baby, your wish is my command 🧚‍♂️🤠

Tags/Warnings: 18+, Trans!Viktor x G!N Reader, modern flavored, public sex, shotgunning the devil's lettuce, frottage. Terms used for Viktor: Tits (pre-op, pierced), cunt.

The split vinyl groans as he levers himself up, felt more than heard. Sounds get lost beneath the mixtape of chatter and heavy reverb, bass like a second heartbeat. You catch the raw hem of his sweater, tugging, shouting, asking: “Where are you going?”

“To smoke,” you read off his lips, invited to slide out of the booth and follow him through the humid churn of darkly dressed bodies. He leads you deeper into the bar, shouldering into the drop-ceiling, checker-tiled bathroom. But this isn’t new, and while you may snort, there’s nothing to say. It’s not as if he’s going where you won’t follow. 

In the second stall, farthest from the door, Viktor props open the inset window like a nimble-fingered expert. And he is—at avoiding the aching cold. He’s considerate about it, nonetheless; convinced that the scent of his vape is present enough to be off-putting, though you hardly ever smell a thing. 

Music melts through the plaster walls, the pulse running through your companionate silence. There is only you, hitched on the sink’s edge, ankles crossed, and him, leaning neatly against the wall, taking a meditative drag from the pen between his fingers. 

You watch his head fall back against the tile and have to wonder: “You wanna go home?” 

“No,” seeps out with his exhale, angled out the window. “I only needed an intermission. This is… fun.”

Your brow lifts.

“I’m having fun.” And his lithe little smile is earnest enough that you believe him. 

Your eyes drift to the door, returning a smile of your own—this one wry. “Not as much as them,” the undisputed champions of PDA, of course. Last you saw, Caitlyn had her hands in Vi’s patchy black, spray-dyed hair, and they were getting hot and heavy in front of the sound booth like the main characters of emo night at The Last Drop. 

“Mm.” He offers out the vape, drawing you off the sink and into the stall. “Their definition seems somewhat different.” 

“Not that different,” you shrug, plucking it from his cold fingers. “Just less subtle.” 

The shade of interest that darkens his eyes certainly is, something warm sparking to life between your bodies inching closer. You meant it to be heady, but your slow pull, holding his stare, is not as pretty and graceful as his had been. It tickles at first before the burn in your throat, your lungs, registers. Makes you sputter into your arm like you’re green as he takes the pen back—the cheap one that runs too hot—with a soft laugh.

“I forgot to charge the good one,” he apologizes, touch soothing over your shoulder. 

With one final cough and your watery eyes wiped, you begin to step back and grieve the ruined moment. (Which, yes, is completely his fault.) 

But his hand fits to the curve of your jaw. “A solution,” he murmurs as he shapes his mouth around the intake, and you follow the intimate thread of his logic. He breathes in, you breathe out. He leans back, you crowd closer. And when he seals to your lips, in accordance with this tidal push and pull, you drink deep of that earthy vapor and let his breath pool in your lungs. 

You pull away, barely able to exhale, before he’s hauling you back by the jacket and licking into your mouth like he wants to taste your teeth. You have the good sense to fumble the door closed, catching a split, smudged second of yourself in the mirror, framed in the stall, tangling into him.

Viktor pants into your mouth, and your hands grope beneath his sweater, eliciting a breathy, “Fuck,” out of him. His tits are subtle and sensitive, malleable in your hands like supple dough—a  harsh contrast to the ball-capped bars lanced through the center of each.  

“Don’t make too many noises or we’ll get caught,” you hush, as if thumbing his steel shot nipple helps. 

His jaw falls open, throat cinching around a fractured sound. Still, licking his spit-slick lips, he manages to chide, “That’s part of the thrill,” urging his chest into your hands for more. 

But you want more too. 

More takes shape to be his long, bird-boned arm draped over your shoulders, his pants shoved down and the thick, crude smell of sweat and slick in your nose; it is your grip on his narrow hips, at once setting the pace and letting yourself be used. His dark hair bobs starkly against the white tile, silver earrings glinting—all in the periphery of your focus. Because when you’re not watching him rut bare against your thigh, his swollen cunt catching and dragging when it meets skin through the rips in your dark jeans...

You can’t stop looking at his hand, clapped over his own mouth.

[bokutoko]

hello!! i really enjoyed your writing for kita! i was wondering if i can request one where reader (fem) gets really emotional over little things (ex. smth doesn’t go as planned) and kita comforts her?

ꜱᴍɪʟᴇ

character: shinsuke kita (timeskip!kita)

wc: 792

content/warning(s): emotional dysregulation, slight cursing; there's a reason your boyfriend is the farmer and not you...

a/n: hi anon!! thank you so much for the love and the req🫶🏻 this was healing for me to write bc i tend to get emotional over the little things sometimes too. i hope i did our fav rice farmer justice once again <333

Growing up around his grandmother, Kita always had a green thumb. Ever since he was taught that all life was built by small, daily acts, he was always patient with his crops. He made sure to be thorough with maintenance all throughout harvest—up until they reach the consumer’s hands. Because of this, he ensured the highest quality of rice.

You, on the other hand, were not-so secretly known as every plant’s worst nightmare. Of course, you didn’t mean to kill all your plants, they just always somehow died!

But you decided to give it another shot. Watching Kita work so hard outside made you feel confident; if he could manage countless acres of land, you could handle a little garden. You excitedly picked out your favorite fruit and vegetable seeds from the local market, and Kita was happy to build you a little enclosure for your plants.

Now here you were, standing before your little plots of soil with tears in your eyes. You’d tried so hard, but you forgot to water them for one day, and to just your luck, they all died due to an unforeseen heatwave in Hyogo. 

“What the actual fuck?” Huffing in frustration, your eyes squeezed shut, letting the first couple tears fall. Despite the extreme heat, a cold, harsh wave of embarrassment washed over you, and you couldn’t help but feel like a complete failure for messing this up. How was it possible that your boyfriend managed the entire farm, having a near-perfect harvest every year, and you couldn’t even take care of a 6x10-ft plot?

—

Out in the fields, Kita removed his cap, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and looked to the sky. With sunset approaching, he began his trek back home to see you after a long, satisfying day’s work—just a couple more months until harvest. 

As he stepped into the clearing behind your home, he was expecting to see you waiting for him with your usual bright smile that still made his heart skip a beat. But instead, you were standing with your back to him and your hands on your hips.

Uh oh. He walked up behind you, calling, “Evenin’, darlin’.”

You shot around, and he took note of the tear stains that you quickly wiped away. “Hi, Shin,” you greeted with the slightest quiver in your voice. 

“Everythin’ okay?” He looked down at your little plants that were vaporized from the sun, then back to you, noticing your glistening eyes.

“Why do all plants hate me?”

“Ya know plants can’t hate ya.”

“It sure feels like they do!” you snapped, immediately feeling guilty for your attitude when Kita did nothing wrong. You were well aware, as was Kita, when spurts of overwhelming emotions engulfed you—whether happy, sad, angry, embarrassed—your instinct reactions were to either get snappy or briefly cry. Or both, in this case.

Kita watched as fresh, hot tears rolled down your face as you whispered a soft, genuine “I’m sorry,” and he stepped forward to comfort you. You immediately wrapped your arms around his waist and smushed your face into his chest in defeat, mumbling, “I feel so dumb, Shin. What the hell am I doing wrong?”

Always to your rescue, Kita removed his gloves to gently tip your chin up to look into his pretty brown eyes. “Yer not dumb or doin’ anythin’ wrong. Sometimes, plants don’t sprout, an’ sometimes, the ones that do just die. Ain’t nothin’ else about it,” he assured as a gentle thumb wiped your eyes. “Somethin’ as small as this sure ain’t worth yer tears, though.”

You shut your eyes and released a small sigh, your bottom lip jutting out. “I know.”

Kita leaned forward and pressed three tender kisses against your forehead, signifying three words: I love you. “We can always plant some more. We can go ta the market tomorrow an’ pick out more o’the seeds ya want,” he suggested, “and I can help ya take care of ‘em.”

“But you already do so much for me,” you objected.

“It ain’t a big ask, sweetheart,” he reasoned with a loving gaze, “and ya know I’d do anythin’ ta see ya smile.”

You squished your face into his chest in a tight hug again. “You’re kinda cheesy, Shin,” you teased as you hid your reddening cheeks.

He chuckled, grateful that the slight sun on his face hid his own blush, muttering, “Guess I am.“

From that day on, Kita never forgot to give your garden a little extra love in the mornings before tending to the farm. It was worth seeing your big, proud grin when it was time to pick your first round of thriving produce. 

And to Kita, anything was worth doing to keep a smile on your face. 

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please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2024.

[indieyuugure]

hmmm what really happens when you throw dry ice bombs in a trash can?🤔 Also how does Raph know that? 😦

I personally have never done this, but my dad was a very bored and Chronically unsupervised teenager and he did this a few times.

To any who don’t know what a dry ice bomb is, it’s where you take a small chunk of dry ice (frozen carbon dioxide) and put it in a plastic water bottle with a small amount of water in it and screw the cap on quickly and as tight as possible. When the dry ice touches the water it immediately vaporizes back into gas form and builds up pressure inside the closed bottle and explodes (or blows the cap off, either way it makes a small boom sound). Maybe there’s other ways to do it, but this it what I’m familiar with

Anyway, according to my mom who watched my dad throw these into trash cans with his friends for fun, the tiny bomb blows up inside the trash can and sends all the lighter weight trash flying everywhere which makes a very big mess. According to my dad, this is very entertaining 🤣

How does Raph know this? Um idk, probably boredom, or saw it on tv or something. (Maybe Donnie?)

Good question! :]

[blackkatmagic]

If ur taking Moonknight ships, Marc Spector and Steve Rodgers with mind control!

“Fuck you, that’s a lie,” Marc hisses, pressed as flat as he can get to the wall of the shrine that the Prince of Orphans led them to. The Mandarin was supposed to be here. The Mandarin is not here.

Scarlet Witch is, though, and it seems like she’s having one hell of a bad day.

Sprawled out in his throne, one leg crossed over the other and a dusty glass of something that absolutely isn't wine in his hand, Khonshu chuckles. “I would never lie to my knight,” he lies. “It’s the simplest way to break her control over him, my son. You asked for a cure and I've provided one.”

“Fuck you,” Marc growls, and ignores the look Clint is giving him from the other side of the small shrine. Clint knows Khonshu is real, or he’d better, after their detour into ancient Egypt that one time when the West Coast Avengers were still a thing. “Give me a different cure. A better one.”

Khonshu cocks his head thoughtfully, like that will hide the gleam of wicked mirth that swirls through the galaxies in his empty eye sockets. “That would require a quest seeking my sister-son Heka, my knight, and a remedy brewed by his divine hands. I don’t believe you have that much time at the moment.”

“If you depart your body now of all times,” Valkyrie tells him, low but very definitely dangerous, “I will tell your cab driver friend where you hid all of his false mustaches.”

Marc grimaces, ducking a little more as there's a loud crash, a thud, a groan. The Prince of Orphans lands hard on the stone, and Natasha drops down a few paces from him, breathing hard with a bruise already disappearing across one cheekbone.

With a loud, ringing thud, Steve’s shield embeds itself into the stone of the wall just to the left of the Prince, and heavy footfalls sound.

“Shit,” Marc mutters, and closes his eyes, ignoring the heavy weight of Khonshu’s amused stare. Breathes, steeling himself—

“Moon Knight,” Valkyrie warns, alarm sliding into her tone. “If it is that foolish an idea—”

“All of my ideas are foolish,” Marc tells her. "If he throws me across the room, try to catch me.”

“Moon Knight!” she protests, but Marc ducks away from her grab, vaults the wall, and then stops dead, something thudding in his chest. Steve is staring at him, looking dangerous as hell in the black of his old Nomad costume, even though no other man alive could probably pull off that V-neck. His eyes are red, though, and his expression is icy cold, in a way Steve would never be when standing in front of his own team. Whatever Wanda did to him—

Whatever she did, Khonshu gave Marc the way to fix it. It’s just a really fucking stupid fix.

“Moon Knight,” Steve says, and there's a rough, almost gravelly edge to it that makes Marc feel like a stupid teenager sneaking Captain America comics and fantasizing about them again. Him again. Which is absolutely not an appropriate thought to have when Steve’s currently a brain puppet of the Scarlet Witch during one of her breakdowns over her teenage kids getting pissy at her. Especially not given what Marc is about to try and do.

Steven would be better at this, Marc thinks, mostly resigned to getting punched in the face. Too bad Steven is a squishy human and Cap would turn him into a slinky.

“Hey, Cap,” Marc says, and tries to think of a way to say how about you let me get within grabbing distance without breaking my arms in a way that will go over well. “If Iron Man sees you walking around like that, you're going to give him the vapors.”

Steve’s expression darkens, and he flexes one hand like he’s imagining closing it around Stark’s neck. That’s a pretty standard reaction to Stark, though. It does give Marc cover to take two steps towards Steve, braced to move if things get violent, and he opens his hands, like an offer.

“Think you want a henchman?” he asks, and hears the bursts of indignation that come from four different directions as the team catches his words. Ignoring them, because Natasha is the only one close and conscious enough to be a threat if they decide to dogpile him, marc reaches up, pulling his mask off deliberately, and tells Steve, “Look, I don’t want to stick with these lunch detention nerd rejects if you're going off to do your own thing, Cap. I can be a good little right hand if you want me to.”

There's a pause, more thoughtful than before, and Steve finally turns, gives Marc his full attention rather than keeping one eye on Natasha and the Prince. “You want to be my henchman,” he says, flat, and the red light clinging to him like a second skin flickers, whirls.

“Henchman, goon, pet damsel if that’s more your speed,” Marc says, taking another two steps closer. He’s almost within arm’s reach now, and Steve still hasn’t tried to twist his head off his neck, so that’s promising. Probably. “I look great in a pink feathered negligée.”

Somewhere behind him, Clint gags pointedly, and Marc tries not to scowl, making a mental note to put ink in his coffee as soon as he gets the chance.

“Pink feathers?” Steve asks, and for the first time his tone slips out of cold anger, right into bemusement.

“I can lounge around your secret lair and let you test it out, if you want,” Marc offers, not even bothering to try for charming. Steven could manage that, but—yeah, Steven isn't going to touch this one. Besides, Steve seems blindsided enough by the offer that Marc steps right up to him, reaches out, and presses a hand to his broad chest without losing his head. When he looks up at Steve, halfheartedly trying to make it looking through his lashes like Marlene sometimes used to do to him when she couldn’t tell it wasn’t Steven in front of her, Steve looks down at him, something Marc can't read on his face, but—well. It’s not violent, at least. Marc got worse responses from other guys in the Marines, and given Steve’s from the 40’s, he wasn’t holding out much hope of better.

“So what about it?” he asks, leaning in, and Steve’s hand settles on his waist—

Marc kisses him, hard, no time wasted with finesse. He slams their mouths together, and feels more than hears the dry-bone-rattle of Khonshu’s laughter. Something burns, burns right through him and into Steve, as bright as the moon hanging full and round above them, and Steve jerks. His arm snaps tight around Marc’s back, and Marc braces to get tossed like a frisbee—

Instead, there's a groan, winded, warm. The kiss gentles, and a hand curls over Marc’s cheek, tips his head into an angle that’s a little less awkward. It feels a bit like an electric shock, and Marc twitches, almost jerks away, but…this is actually kind of pleasant. Not just awkward bodies, like sometimes happens, but—well. All those years spent crushing on Captain America probably have something to do with that.

Then, slow, gentle, Steve draws back, the shimmer of red around him gone. His eyes are sky-blue again, bright and familiar, and Marc takes one look at him, catches his breath, and says, “Fuck. Cap?”

Steve blinks, blinks again. Then, all at once, his eyes widen, and he says with deep relief, “Marc. You broke her control?”

“It was the image of the pink feathered negligée,” Marc tells him, flat, and desperately tries to jam his mask back over his head before something in his face gives away the whole I have a crush on the most unattainable man in existence thing. “You’re welcome. Thank Khonshu.”

“If I'm thanking Khonshu, I feel like it probably wasn’t that,” Steve says, and grimaces, putting a hand up to his head. “Ugh. I think I have a migraine.”

“Wanda’ll do that to you,” Clint says, cautiously poking his head above the edge of the low wall. “Moonie, did you really just break the evil witch’s curse with a kiss? Are you a fairy tale princess?”

“No, I'm Sailor Moon. And Wanda’s not evil,” Marc says, rolling his eyes, and drags his mask down a little more securely. “Shut up, bastard.”

Khonshu, still chuckling, tips his glass full of unidentified and unsettlingly-colored liquid at Marc. “You would make an excellent henchman, my knight,” he says, and is gone in the space between seconds.

“Damsel?” Natasha asks judgmentally, raising one red brow.

“Who wouldn’t want an easy retirement?” Marc counters. “If Cap wanted to take over the world, I think he could.”

Natasha weighs that for a moment, then snorts and waves in agreement, leaning down to check the Prince of Orphans.

“Please don’t ever let me take over the world,” Steve says, one hand still pressed over his eyes. “Even for the sake of your retirement.”

“Don’t look at me,” Clint tells him. “I look terrible in pink feathers. And my kiss can't break a curse.”

Marc flips him off, going to grab Steve’s arm and steer him out of the shrine. “Come on,” he says pointedly. “You should probably lie down. The birdbrain can handle getting everyone back to the ship.”

“While you play damsel? Come on, I can rock purple feathers—”

“Not as well as Moon Knight,” Valkyrie says, and between her and Natasha, they heave the Prince up. “Retrieve the good Captain’s shield, Hawkeye.”

Marc very firmly kicks the door closed before he can hear Clint’s protest.

Steve makes a quiet sound of amusement, body heavy where he’s leaning on Marc’s shoulder. “Do we need to have a talk about you offering to be a villain’s henchman?” he asks.

Marc rolls his eyes. “Only yours,” he counters, but instead of getting uncomfortable, the way he expects, Steve shoots him a thoughtful look.

“We should have downtime in Berlin once this mission is over,” he says after a moment. “I know you normally go back to New York, but you should stay. If you meant that kiss.”

Electricity, again. A frisson, sharp through Marc’s nerves, but—it makes breathing a little more difficult than it really should be.

“I could mean it,” he says, and looks away, feeling entirely too self-conscious. It was a bad kiss. Right up until Steve took over. “Assuming I didn’t scare you off.”

“I'm hard to scare,” Steve says gently, and—

Well. There's a fine line between supporting Steve and walking with Steve’s arm over his shoulder. Not that Marc is about to protest.

[hedgiwithapen]

DHD: ALRIGHT, TIME TO DELIVER ON THAT "ELLIOT WAS BRIEFLY PART OF THE STARGATE PROGRAM" WORD OF GOD CANON!

Hardison would have been impressed if he’d had room for that particular emotion, which he often did. As it was, he had room for the ever conflicting “we’re gonna die” fear and “Eliot’s gonna save us” reassurance, the latter  of which normally won, which left room for being impressed. Currently, though, any space for that was filled with pain, which he hadn’t even been aware was an emotion.  The guy holding Parker with inhuman grip strength had some kind of hand-mounted… light… ray gun… thing, and it was both cool as hell and hurt like it, too, which outweighed the coolness factor. Hardison tasted blood, rolling up to one knee with absolutely all of his bones protesting. “I told you,” he panted. “We don’t know--” “Then you will die,” the voice that tore from their captor’s throat was all wrong, like it’d been run through a pitch adjuster set to ‘scary-ass-monster-man.’ “Nah,” Eliot swung around the corner, one hand braced on the door frame. The other held some kind of snake-themed horror movie prop, which would not have been reassuring in the hands of anyone but their boyfriend. Well, until it fired. The guy dropped Parker, writhing on the ground the way Hardison had been moments ago. Eliot pressed whatever trigger again, and the blue-purple lightning crawling over the guy intensified, even as he stopped moving.  A third shot and…

“Wow, you vaporized that guy.” Parker said, rubbing her neck where the man had held her. “Cool.” “Are you ok?” Eliot asked them both, his intensity ratcheting higher, Hardison noticed. “Aside from that guy trying to kill us, yeah,” Hardison said, looking pointedly at the place the body had been. “Uh. Are you? Ok? Because, I mean I know, we don’t pry or nothing but I thought, you know, you had a pretty solid Batman thing going on and uh…” “Trust me,” Eliot said gruffly. “That was mercy.” “Ok, ok, cool, uh, wanna run that back and maybe fill us in a little bit on that… ray gun thing you got there?” “It’s a Zat gun,” Eliot said. “Not a ray gun.” he ran a hand over his sweaty face. “ shit. This isn’t good.” “Move now, talk later?” Parker pointed out. “I mean. No body but still? Unless you’ve both completely forgotten how to be criminals?” “Yeah, we need to get to the Cheyenne Mountains,” Eliot said, looking at Hardison. “I’ll conjure plane tickets as soon as you tell me the hell is going on.” “Remember that conspiracy board?” “From the Hunter job?” Hardison asked. “Yeah. good prop. How much am I gonna not like asking why?” “A lot,” Eliot said. “So this guy tried to kill us and you got a …Zap gun--” “Zat. With a T.” “S’what I said, so you got one of those because of… one of those things? Which one? Moon landing?” “Nah, that was real.” “It better not be that racist secret hyperborea beyond the ice caps bullshit.” “Nah,” Eliot said again. “It’s the Pyramids.” “Oh, really,” Hardison said. “ had you not just saved my life I would be scolding you, like it is the twenty-first century man, the Egyptians were really good at--” “They sure were. That’s why the Aliens took them.” Eliot interrupted. “Hardison, how much have you learned about the SGC?” “The boring Air Force branch that doesn’t do anything except waste taxpayer money?” “Try the Air Force branch that’s the only reason this planet didn’t get blown up in ‘98. And ‘99. And--” “Oooh,” Parker shook out her arms. “What are we stealing?” “Nothing! Yet. “ Eliot amended his statement swiftly. “Look, if there was a goa’uld here, that’s a really really bad sign.” “Oh, it’ll be like DC again,” Parker nodded. “It’ll be a whole lot worse.” “That guy was an alien?” Hardison asked. “Yeah. It’s a very distinctive vocal pattern, ok? Tickets.” “Calm down, I got them. Got us a car, too. We need fake IDs or you got this?” “They know me,” Eliot confirmed. “Or at least, they better.” He glanced up, and Hardison peered at the cloudless sky with him, half expecting to see it full of spaceships and fire.  The perfect blue seemed too good to be true.

[taes-kookie-blog]

DATES WITH BTS

these days i’ve been daydreaming on what kind of date our boys would bring us on 🥹 i jinja miss them. pls enjoy dear~

-

JUNGKOOK

he’d call you late at night. you’d facetime for a bit, this is what your dates have been lately due to the military. things get a bit freaky a while into the facetime call, and jungkook loses it. “i cant kiss you through the phone.” he says. you laugh, thinking he’s making a soulja boy joke bc you’re listening to it. but he’s serious, and he’s getting all worked up… he bites his lip and leans closer to the camera… “i wanna see it.. in motion… in 3D.” upon hearing this you get up to strip for him but he hangs up. you receive a text from him; an address. you go to the address and it’s the military grounds, where he sneaks you in so you can do it in 3D. but then you get shot and you die :(

-

SUGA

it’s a friday night. due to suga’s busy schedule, you don’t see eachother much so you want to go a bit crazy and go to the club together. he’s wearing sunglasses and a cap to disguise, so everyone in the club thinks he’s weird. he drinks a lot due to stress and judgement. “yoongi.. slow down…” but he doesnt. he’s been drinking a lot more lately but you brushed it aside as you haven’t seen it; until now. glass after glass, shot after shot… he’s almost blackout by this point. he buys a bottled beer to go home with, so you wrap your arm around him to help him out. while waiting for your uber, you turn to see he isn’t there… that’s when you hear a load bang. you immediately run down the street towards the commotion. there he is, on the ground, a wound on his head. he drunkenly laughs and sits up, but the situation isn’t laughable. beside him is a scooter and a pram. a pram that fell over.

-

JIMIN

jimin’s ideal date with you would be a karaoke bar. he loves to tease you as you try your best to sing, and of course, he loves to sing too. but he’s banned from all the karaoke bars in seoul. you’re walking along together, moreso you’re being guided along by him after he told you he ‘knows a place.’ you reach a strange part of the city, where you’ve never been. there are a lot of buff shirtless men around. “this way babe.” he tugs on your hand towards a staircase leading underground, so you follow, confused. at first glance, the place is amazing and lively, a cool underground club, you figure it’s probably so hidden because it’s for celebrities only. but upon walking further into the club…. “jimin! what the fuck?! this is a gay bar!”

-

V

tae has always been reluctant about taking you out due to his dislike of PDA, and of course, the attention to his public image. you understand, dispatch can ruin careers after all. he calls you to come over, so you do. you reach the apartment and notice how foggy the windows are, is he cooking? you smile to yourself happily, smitten at the fact that beyond his stoic image, tae would cook for you. you walk in and immediately begin coughing. you stumble into the room, tripping over something on the floor. it’s hard to see through the smoke, steam, vapor..? what is this? but after crouching down and picking up what you tripped over, you can see it’s a vape. not just one, the whole floor is covered… emerging from the clouds, tae holds one out to you. “choof sesh?”

-

JIN

jin is usually a stay at home watch movies and snuggle type, so when you got the text asking you to come out with him, you were more than excited. you dress yourself up to look your best, and meet him outside. he compliments you which makes you blush, but then there’s an awkward silence. he waits, until you compliment him too. then you go, and arrive at a carnival. walking along together, getting cotton candy (he won’t eat it but at least he paid), playing games, going on rides… it’s so much fun. until you go into the hall of mirrors. at first it’s funny, seeing so many of your reflection, but of course it’d get boring after a while. “jin, let’s go!” but he doesn’t answer. he’s entranced by his reflection, and refuses to leave. good luck getting him out…

-

RM

namjoon likes to make dates personal and meaningful. he wants to connect, not just through your bodies, but your mind and heart. when he told you he wants to show you where he grew up your heart was touched and you couldn’t wait. the car trip is fun, and eventually you pull up to a run down part of the city. checking your location on your phone, you knew this wasn’t where he grew up. “babe-“ before you can speak, he cuts you off, sighing and shaking his head and he drives slowly and looks melancholically out the window. “this is my hood.” you look at him in confusion, he seems totally lost in thought. he’s still driving, but you go to open the door to hint you wanna go and see it for yourself. before your hand reaches the handle he quickly grabs it. “don’t. it’s not safe out there…”

-

JHOPE

jhope had recently recovered from his emo phase so you could finally enjoy time with him, and you couldn’t wait. he invited you over. upon entering, he greeted you with excitement, wearing a cute apron and ushering you towards the kitchen to show the meal he prepared. you’re beyond surprised and excited, your heart warmed from this gesture. you sit at the kitchen counter as he continues cooking, the room filled with laughter and joy. he falls into conversation with you, his back facing the stove as you joyfully exchange conversation. until suddenly, a fire breaks out. he turns to face it, his expression unreadable as you scram to get the fire extinguisher. you run over but he silently holds a hand out, gesturing for you to stop. “what if.. what if…. what if i have no dream? no hope?” he mumbles, his expression still as he stares into the fire. “hoseok we need to put it ou-” he shushes you, still staring into the fire. “let it burn. let it all burn.”

-

i hope u enjoyed dears~ pls send requests

[briarberrythornedhart]

Eddie Casts Song of Restoration

Content: Sick hurt/Comfort, innuendo and flirting, reader described as having breasts, reader has never heard of Vic’s vapor rub going on your feets 😅. I know, that’s gonna ruin this for some of us. Just pretend with me.

🦇 ♥️ 🦇 🎸 🦇 💀 🦇 🎸 🦇 ♥️ 🦇

You’d been together for 19 days and 6 hours when you caught the flu.

You told Eddie to stay away from your house until you were well, but Eddie is not exactly stellar at following orders.

It was the fatigue that was the worst and you didn’t want to ever see Eddie as listless as you felt. You liked it best when he was revved up and bouncing around like a coiled spring.

He was very bouncy right now.

“Orange juice, check. Ginger ale, check. Chicken soup and crackers. Check Check. More tissues - the Good Ones.” Eddie said, plopping his purchases onto the counter. “Vapor rub which Uncle Wayne says cures what ails ya’. And Of course - movies for distraction purposes. Plus me, as a bonus distraction.” He bowed to you, but he was the opposite of humble.

“Babe, didn’t want you to get sick.” You said weakly. “Didn’t Dustin tell you I said to stay away?”

You clutched the afghan around you and shuffled further away as if a few measly feet would protect your beloved from the plague you carried.

What you needed was hazmat suits, then you could hug him safely. You wanted to hold him so badly.

Eddie cocked his head and licked a canine. “You ever known me to do what that little shrimp says? Also, I knew you needed me.” He held out his arms to catch you up in them, but a sudden sneeze caught you without tissue in hand and slightly green goop was now dripping from your nose

“Awwww gross…” you complained and begged him. “Don’t look at me, I’m so disgusting.”

Eddie laughed, not cruelly, “Sweetheart, where is all that ectoplasm coming from??” He brought his bandana up to wipe your face off, ignoring your complaints that it would need to be BURNED afterwards. “Listen, you are not gross. It’s just snot. You are as gorgeous as ever, and I loooove the outfit.” He had clocked that you were wearing a Megadeth shirt and just underwear underneath your your afghan ‘cloak’. His voice dropped an octave - you felt it rumble in your ears. “That’s my shirt...Don’t you know what that does to me…?” sliding his warm hands under the afghan to meet your thighs.

You felt the traitorous cough building in your chest and couldn’t stop it no matter how hard you tried. It bent you double. It sounded atrocious.

“Whoa-whoa, hey, I’m sorry, I won’t molest you while you're sick, don’t cough up a lung on me.” Eddie slung an arm around your shoulder and led you back to the couch.

“You would… if I wasn’t sick, though?” You asked glumly, “You’d molest me to my heart’s content?”

Eddie did a double take at that, and then chuckled in his best demonic manner, “Say the word and you’ll be thoroughly molested, good and proper. Soon as you want it.” Quixotically changing tone to be sweet again, his doe-eyes soft and concerned. “Do you wanna lay down, or prop up against me?”

“Can’t lay down, get too stuffy.” You sniffed, a bit pathetically.

“Okay, sit here, imma put on the first movie and then we can cuddle up.” Eddie popped open a white clamshell VHS case. “You said you loved Muppet movies, Robin suggested I get you ‘Hey Cinderella’ - and ‘The Frog Prince’ - both are Muppety versions.”

“I think you might be the sweetest boyfriend in the whole world.”

“I know, right?…and now…” he unscrewed the cap of vapor rub, “to put this mentholated greasy shit…sorry... stuff.. on your feet.”

“What? Vapor rub is…chest…stuff. Chest rub. For chests??”

“Wayne said he puts it on his feet when he has a cold - said he did that for me when I was a toddler.” Eddie suddenly looked at you with a little smirk, “Dooooo youuuu want me to rub this on your chest? All over it? Cause that’s the kinda sweet boyfriend I am, I will do that, for you, if you want?” He licked his upper lip, face all mischievous.

He was a good distraction. “Yeah, well... when they say ‘chest’ they mean upper chest,” You patted just below your neck. “... not these.” You cupped your breasts at him.

His eyes widened and so did his smirk. “Show me again, I’m confused. Where doesn’t it go??” He scootched closer.

You tsked your tongue. “Actually what would be best - is if I rubbed this on your chest and stomach - and then laid my head on you. Like a big warm sexy healing pillow.”

“I don’t want to be described as a pillow - but I’ll take the rest.”

He let you put the chest rub on him, only wrinkling his nose up until you started massaging it in (avoiding his nipples), then you sent Eddie shivering into a little body-roll of pleasure as you drifted your hands down to his naval.

“Your hands feel s-s-so good... go lower??” His voice broke slightly on the ask.

“I’m not sure this is okay to go on any sensitive skin - like - pretty sure crotch is a no-go, babe.”

Eddie sighed a laugh, “Whoops, I didn’t come over here to have you take care of me. C’mere.” He held out his arm so you could get as close as possible and lay your heavy head on his chest. He held you sweetly and watched your silly muppety movies and sang you some Led Zeppelin until you drifted off to sleep.

But it has to be said, that as soon as you felt better, you gave him a full body massage with body safe oil and it did not disappoint.

[sunkissedchld]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇-𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

dedicated to @nashikahan for suggesting the idea ❤️

relationships are important of course, no matter if it's a friendship or romantic or work-related or otherwise, but one of the greatest and most important types of love is the love we receive from ourselves.

i've said this before (a very long time ago), but in general, when most people are interested in tarot, they tend to ask about and lean towards content that speaks about the future (ex. future spouse, next 5 years, next career endeavor, etc), but i’ve realized that falling into that trap of future readings can be harmful if it’s all one ever thinks about.

thinking about the future is great of course, and it’s fun and sometimes comforting to think about the future and what successes and highs one might claim, but too much focus on the future makes it hard for one to focus on the present.

you can’t ever reach that future if you’re so wrapped in the fantasy of it that you forget to bring yourself to the present and work on whatever is needed in order to get there.

therefore, this PAC is not about the future. it's about the now. it's about what you need to hear right now in order to find comfort and love for yourself the way you need it.

the piles go from top left to right. so, "you are exactly where you are meant to be" is pile i, "be kind to your mind" is pile ii, and so on and so forth.

take the time to close your eyes, breathe, and meditate on the PAC prompt, then open your eyes and let your guides lead you to the pile for you.

i hope you enjoy and learn to love yourself the way you deserve to be loved 💖

(TW: slight s*icidal mention in pile vi)

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Rover and Benz" by Aint Afraid

"Blazed" by Ariana Grande

"Lose" by Wonho

Reading:

i think this is my creative pile :)

life is always moving and as hard as it is for you to be okay with it you always find a way to get on the right footing despite there seemingly not being a reason to.

are you a dancer? or at least, do you wanna be? if so, don't deny yourself that art form. i can tell you pour your heart and soul into it. i think it's where you tell the story of your pain. please, continue to use it to continue to be the strong person you are.

you're a fighter and a creative. i don't know a better combo than that to be honest. i don't think you hear this often enough, or you doubt people when you do hear it -- your art form is enough. as a matter of fact, it's more than enough. it's exactly what's needed for the Earth right now and for years to come.

the card i pulled literally says, "SHARE YOUR VOICE" in all caps like that and everything. your mind, your voice, your creativity, your dance, your art is valid. even if self-critique is necessary, also remember that you've come a long way from your very first piece to right now.

the other card i pulled says, "YOUR LIFE IS A CANVAS". continue to use it as such. continue to foster your art. it's beautiful. every ounce of love you put into it can be seen. it's so obvious that art (in whatever form) is of and in you.

love it.

especially your own.

love your own work.

(i promise that it's good enough).

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Donald Trump" by Mac Miller

"Run The World (Girls)" by Beyonce

"The Vapors" by Jhene Aiko

Reading:

know that you have a reason to be cocky!

i can tell that you're a hard-worker. every action you take is calculated and in an effort to reach the "promised land" of what you want. what you've always dreamed of. although recently (and maybe just in general) you may feel as if this uphill climb feels harder than ever.

the card i pulled says, "it's happening for you. not to you". i think those words may be of help to you right now. sometimes you may feel like God has put you up against these seemingly unwinable battles, but they are winnable. you're the one that can win them.

although you put in the work and action behind all of your wants, i think you mainly need to hear that you're not alone. you are being supported.

more than anything, i think you need to focus on healing yourself before going any further. specifically, go outside. breathe in the cold air and let it hurt your lungs. let the humidity frizz out your hair. listen to the waves as the crash violently or splash little by little.

i think you already know that you're strong, but also know that it's okay to rest.

it's necessary to rest.

please, allow yourself to do so.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Songs About You" by Chika

"Fool For You" by CeeLo Green

"Silent Cry" by Stray Kids

Reading:

there's a calling for you to do something, and you're avoiding it.

now babe.. you know better than to do that!

you feel like logic isn't aligning for you to be able to do it, or you doubt your own abilities, don't you? yeah.. you gotta stop doing that like immediately.

that dream or urge you have that feels so integral to your person and so primal to you in terms of needs is something you can totally achieve, but you have to believe in yourself. pay homage to yourself.

you are unique and honestly, your alignment is not of this world. that's why it feels as if the logic is off because they logic you've been conditioned to follow is not the one you should be following.

listen to yourself. listen to your body. trust that you will end up at the right ending because you're the one who knows how to best lead yourself. the cards i pulled say, "trust where you're led" and "surrender to the alchemy of life". i think that's important for you.

the most important thing i can say is that you control your destiny, and know that there's a path for you that so beautifully laid out, and you naturally lead yourself there.

you are worthy of your own trust.

you know exactly what you're doing -- even if it doesn't feel like it.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Shufflemancy:

"Sorry Not Sorry" by Bryson Tiller

"in my head" by Ariana Grande

"I'm The One" by Ateez

Reading:

you allow people to walk over you too much :(

is it because you don't think you're good enough? do you think you're not worthy of respect? YOU ARE!

maybe you don't fit society's standard of things. education, beauty, intelligence, material posessions? to be honest, it doesn't matter because you are so much more than that. who you are inside and who you try to be is so much more valuable than any of society's standards.

you don't have to take on everyone's burdens in order to be of use. you don't have to break your own boundaries and beat yourself down in order to receive basic respect.

your unique knowledge -- your unconventional knowledge- is so special to you! it's such a unique trait that gives you a different way of thinking and experiencing than others. use these differences to uplift yourself!

so what you're different? so what you don't blend in with everyone else? THAT'S THE ENTIRE POINT OF BEING UNIQUE AND BEING DIFFERENT!

fitting society's standards isn't helpful to yourself or the collective.

embrace your differences. they are valuable.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐕

Shufflemancy:

"Alone" by Ayanna

"Motivation" by Normani

"Do It Like A Dude" by Jessie J

Reading:

the people who chose this pile are changing! transtitions and transformations are in progress or on the way, and you feel unprepared for them. that's okay!

you keep holding on to old habits and old ways of thinking, but you need to trust yourself and the universe. the card i pulled literally says, "YES. just say yes". the other one says, "you go first. the universe will catch you".

your old ways of thinking and being don't work anymore because they're too mundane. your ability and your intrinsic nature is so much broader! so much bigger!

your personality and energy is so intoxicating to others. i wish you could see yourself through outsiders eyes. if you felt drawn to pile ii, then go ahead and read it. i think the message there also applies to you.

know that you are so much bigger than the little problems and intrusive thoughts that hold you back. for every pessimistic thought that goes through, write down a positive one.

also, learn to praise yourself. you deserve praise.

you are doing well.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐕𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Cuz I Love You" by Lizzo

"Without You" by Ledsi

"Practice" by Drake

"breathin" by Ariana Grande

Reading:

i think you're tired, just like the photo says.

you may feel like you don't wanna be here anymore. not even in a s*icidal way, but more so in a wanting to be away from your environment -- from Earth -- just for a little bit if it were possible.

the people who chose this pile a very likely starseeds. you miss home. you miss being around likeminded people, and more than anything you miss feeling as if you belonged.

you have so much love you want to give to others, but it's like people don't want it. like they follow the saying of "you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink it".

i think you may be tired of hearing this, but you are here for a reason. more than anything you just want the backpack of rocks that lies on your shoulder to be lightened -- even if just by one stone. you're tired of hearing that you're strong and that you can handle it because if you feel that backpack get loaded with one more stone, then you;ll explode.

you don't have to be strong all the time.

it's okay to cry.

please cry.

you are human too.

you have emotions too.

it's valid and okay to feel them.

[smoqueen]

age 16: have you heard of this thing called, vapor wave

age 20: yeah its kind of crazy how profooound of an impact this "quote unquote" (does it like that) "fad" on electronic music but you ought to branch out and listen to way more kinds especially what vaporwave already contextually draws from

age 28: hitting my caps lock key HARD and typing "VAPORWAVE" into the search bar to click a floral shoppe reupload that doesnt sound as good as the casette tape i had in my teenage car and CRY ANYWAY

[d4ught3r-0f-n0n3]

"Burn?' I heard something happened and I kind of came to check on you."

The Satyr smiled as she sat on the floor, chewing on a couple of Bottle Caps she had stolen from a few members of the Hermes cabin.

- yk who

*Her ears were red and so was her face. Not of embarrassment but, anger. Her ears twitched and she sat next to Zippy. Sliding down the wall before landing on the ground and rubbing her temples.*

“It’s nothing zip. Just an argument with my father is all.” *She said as she hit her.. vaporizer tool.. in her hoodie sleeve and blew it into her jacket. It was better if Zip didn’t see her stress smoking..*