#dreamlife beats

[allmimsyweretheborogroves]

II.

golden hour, You rise  to greet me and fall away again— heel to toe, we dance You, O star most-beloved sing down the heavens for me —photonic heartstrings  beating down brilliantly— and i, shaken, wilt  in Your gaze can there be any other? to You i swear diurnal dreamlife (would You still have me anyway? offering  nothing but adulation, i) come empty-handed before You —i cannot bear Your touch. if You are shy, bright best-beloved, hide Your face in the moon’s pale bosom

(I know you’ll return to me.)

Prompt: Write a platonic love poem written directly to the object of your affections.

[bigsuthen1]

Please check me out and enjoy!!

[soundslikesunshine]

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[fa-headhoncho]

Fake Boyfriend: Part 3

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Prompt: The fake dating plan has some... complications.

Word Count: 1351

Reader: Female

Warning: Americanized. Leading up to drama, if I still to the plan lol. lmk if u want to be tagged

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

=====

It was the weekend once again and the plan for the was to go to the mall with some of the class. You were very excited since it’s been a while since you left the campus other than the patrols during your internship. Getting up early, showering, and even putting on a cute outfit.

You bounce down the stairs, sending the girls a wave before making a b-line to the kitchen. Katsuki stands at the counter, preparing the plate of food he just cooked. The sound of someone rummaging through the cabinets near catches his attention.

He turns around and nearly drops the pan of eggs onto the floor. You were on your tippy-toes, trying to reach the top shelf… in a dress. He hasn’t seen you in a dress since your elementary school graduation and he was flustered. Yea, he sees you in a skirt every day in class but this was different. The way the garment hugged your curves and accentuated your--

“Can you help me, Suki?” Your sweet voice snaps him out of his daze. He nods, fearing his voice would reveal the effect you had on him. He quickly sets down the pan and makes his way over to you. “Can you grab the Sugar-O’s?”

“Tch.” He shakes his head at you, his mind finally piecing itself back together to scold you. “You are not eating Sugar-O’s for breakfast. You’re going to feel like shit all day if you eat a shitty meal.”

You immediately pout out your bottom lip causing him to let out a sigh. Years of friendship have taught you what you needed to do for the blonde to give you what you want. It was a true talent. “Please, Bubba?” You beg, putting the nail in the coffin.

“No.” He spits out in your face. You let out a scoff, shoulders dropping as he saunters back to the counter to continue his task.

“Well, what am I supposed to eat then?”

He just shakes his head, holding back a chuckle at your child-like actions. “Will you stop whining for ten seconds?” He grumbles out.

“I haven’t eaten since last night, Katsuki, I’m starv--” You cut yourself when he spins back around to look at you. A warmth starts from your toes and climbs up the rest of your body as you see the two plates of food in his hands. “You made me breakfast?”

He rolls his eyes, “No, I made too much food and I know your dumbass would want some.” He simply states but you know it’s a lie. He’s skilled enough in the culinary arts that he knew how much of each ingredient to put in to make the correct portion size for one plate. He specifically made enough to share with you and it made your heart skip a beat.

“Are you going to take it or stand there?” Katsuki gestures to his outstretched hand holding the food.

You give him a grateful smile as you grab it, daring to lean forward and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, bubba.” You whisper in his ear before walking away.

Katsuki bites his lip, trying to push down the blush that was fighting to spread across his cheeks. He lifts his head and watches you join the girls at the table, a small feeling of disappointment washes over him since he wanted to enjoy breakfast with his girlfriend.

She’s not my girlfriend. He has to remind himself.

The girls and you chat about the day ahead while eating your breakfast. The group planned a day to the mall and were trying to narrow down which shops they wanted to stop by. Some of the boys were coming along as well but were still sleeping so they weren’t here to discuss.

“I hope Todoroki is going.” Momo absently says, eyes dazed as she drags a finger around the rim of her teacup.

“I’m not sure.” Orchaco looks over to Mina who shrugs in response. “Izuku said that some of the guys are coming and he didn’t mention him--” Momo’s shoulders drop but no one takes notice, “--Is Bakugo coming?”

All eyes turn to you as you happily munch at the delicious pancakes. You have to ask Katsuki for the recipe, they were the best thing you’ve eaten in months. The fork was still hanging out of your mouth when you notice that the girls’ attention was on you.

You quickly gulp down the bite and raise your eyebrows. “Sorry, what was the question?”

Mina lets out a chuckle, “Is Bakugo going to the mall with us?”

A small blush coats your cheeks and you duck your head away from them, hoping that they don’t see it. “Probably not, he’s not much of a social person.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll come if you mention you’re going.” Mina counters, wiggling her eyebrows up and down. The girls let out various hums of agreements, some even giggling. “He’s seemed to enjoy movie night.”

Your blush spreads from your cheeks to your whole face at the memory. After you dozed off, you woke up the next morning with your head on Katsuki’s chest and him sprawled out under you on the couch.

“Who knew Bakugo had a soft side.” Hagakure coos out, her arms close together showing that she was clasping her invisible hands. “So, are you guys together?”

You don’t trust your voice so you nod. A few of the girls let out excited squeals and move to your side, spewing out questions at ten miles an hour. You hate this kind of attention, especially since it was all coming from a lie.

“I don’t know how it happened really… we kind of just started dating.” You say what comes to mind since you didn’t think about this part of the plan. “And, he’s always had a soft side with me. Nothing has changed between us… he’s still my best friend just with a different title.”

“That’s adorable.” Hagakure gleams. “I never really thought Bakugo would get a girlfriend.” She quietly admits leading some of the other girls to nod too.

You furrow your eyebrows at them, confused about why they say that. Yea, he’s never had any other girlfriend in the past but that is only because he never wanted one. You knew they meant no harm at the comment but there was a fit of slight anger lingering inside you at their words.

“There’s a lot more to Katsuki than just exploding fists. Under all that anger, there’s a soft little teddy bear.” You tell them with a dreamy expression on your face. “He’s just... “ You go to continue but stop yourself since you know Katsuki would kill you if you mentioned any of the vulnerable moments you’ve had with him. You didn’t want to break the trust you had built up with him over the years just to prove something.

You let out a sigh, eyes going back to the plate of food in front of you. “Bakugo has a very complicated personality and once you figure it out, it’s hard not to love him.” You meant it, growing up with him was easy but when you came back from school it was like you had to start over with him.

His aggressive personality developed into what it is now, a defensive wall to block anyone who would get in his way to becoming the number one hero. And you admired that, his passion and determination was beautiful. But once you broke down those walls, you saw the real Bakugo Katsuki. The one who reads romance novels before he goes to bed; the one who still slept with the same teddy bear from his childhood; and the one who is constantly reevaluating what he did so he could improve.

What you didn’t realize is that the said boy could hear the entire conversation from his spot in the kitchen. A small smirk on his face at your confession. A hopeful voice in the back of his head says to maybe make this dating scheme a reality.

_____

fake bf: @yn-dreamlife @yaskna @bakugouswh0r3 @bkgkhaos @addictofsupernatural @littlemaladaptivedaydreamer @thoroughlycaffeinated @riot-race @missyredbean @speedmetalqueen @anime-weeb-bnha

[antigonick]

Yet her poetry from beginning to end is concerned with prisons, vaults, cages, bars, curbs, bits, bolts, fetters, locked windows, narrow frames, aching walls. “Why all the fuss?” asks one critic. “She wanted liberty. Well didn’t she have it? A reasonably satisfactory homelife, a most satisfactory dreamlife—why all this beating of wings? What was this cage, invisible to us, which she felt herself to be confined in?” Well there are many ways of being held prisoner—

Anne Carson, excerpt of “Thou”, from The Glass Essay, in Glass, Irony and God

[sapphic-luthor]

“She wanted liberty. Well didn’t she have it?

A reasonably satisfactory homelife,

a most satisfactory dreamlife-- why all this beating of wings?

What was this cage, invisible to us,

which she felt herself to be confined in?”

Anne Carson, “The Glass Essay” from Glass, Irony, and God

[buckys-little-hoe]

Guys my age | Peter x Fem!Reader, Tony x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Peter x Reader, Tony x Reader

Summary: Years pass and you’re not the little girl anymore.

Warnings: Half naked woman, alcohol, sexual thoughts, grammar and spelling mistakes (I really don’t feel like reading through it again lmao)

A/N: Do I smell a possible series? Tell me if you like it and I will probably continue this. Hehehe

-

Peter Parker. The cutest best friend someone could only ever find in their wildest dreams. He helps you with your homework, he’s been there when you were lovesick, when you were hurt, he trusts you with his life. You’d do anything for him and he’d do the same. He’d get you the moon if you’d ask him. 

You’ve been close friends since Freshman Year - therefore you know his secret identity. Countless nights you spend in eachothers arms, both of you have changed in front of the other. Nothing is really a big deal to you two anymore. Now that you’re two years into college - you traveled around the world for one year after highschool - you’re legally an adult. Drinking is something you can legally do now, not that you often would. You feel like a woman. No. You are a woman. Things change. Feelings change. You often spent the weekend at the compound, sharing a room with Peter back in highschool. So spending Spring Break there isn’t really different. What Peter didn’t tell you, was that everyone is going to be home. This situation is rare. More than half of the team you’ve last seen when you were like sixteen. It will be something completely new, not only for you. “Y/N?”, your dorm roommate calls after you. “Yeah?”, you respond while packing the last things into a suitcase. She barges into your room and scans the room, looking for you. She sees you standing in front of your small closet. “Ohh. You’re leaving. Where to?”, she asks, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “I told you. I’m staying at Peter’s.”, you answer smiling. “Peter? Oh, your boyfriend!”, she says. “He’s not my boyfriend.”, you mumble now. “Whatever, he’s totally into you.”, she responds and sits down on your bed, which is a mess by the way. “He’s not.” Your cheeks start to burn and you turn around. “If you wanna believe that. Have you seen my black dress?” You're grateful that she changes the conversation. “Yeah, you brought it to the salon to get it cleaned.”, you respond, still not facing her. “You’re a literal angel, Y/N. I guess we’ll see eachother after spring break again, so have fun and wrap it before you tap it, darling.”, she says and gives you a kiss on the cheek. Before you can turn around she’s already out the door. 

“I’m bored Peter.”, you sigh looking out of the window. “We’re almost there.” You can feel how he rolls his eyes. “Why are we spending Spring Break here anyway?”, you ask him now facing him. His brown messy hair almost falling into his eyes. He needs to cut that. “I want to work on my skills again and maybe Captain can teach you something, like he promised when he saw you last.”, he replies, still focused on the road. Oh yes. That five years ago. Captain please fuck me America. Man, what a sight for sore eyes. That man could literally run you over with a car, you’d be thanking him. “So instead of relaxing, you want them to murder me?” “Basically.” He finally pulls up to the compound after passing through all those security checks. You look at the time. Almost ten p.m. You feel so tired. “Alright Parker. You bring in those bags, I’ll shower and we watch a movie while falling asleep?”, you question. Well not really, It’s more of an order. He sighs and kills you with his eyes. Before he can say anything, you run into the empty compound. Seems like they’re on a mission. “FRIDAY?”, you call. “Hello, miss Y/L/N. It’s good to see you back.”, the AI greets you. “Well, thanks. Where can I take a shower?”

Relaxed, you get out of the shower, seeing the dampness all over the mirror. That’s when you realise you forgot to bring in clothes. No big deal, right? It’s just good ol’ Penis Parker. You wrap a towel around your curves. You slowly open the door just to see nothing. No Peter, no suitcase. No clothes? You moan in disbelief. This can’t be true. Your old clothes already went down the laundry chute. “FRIDAY?”, you call once again. “Yes, miss?”, the voice answers. “Where is Peter?” “It seems to me that mister Parker went to the kitchen with the luggage.” You’re going to murder him. “Well can you tell him to come?”, you ask. “Unfortunately he has his headphones in at full volume. I can not reach him.”, FRIDAY replies. “That’s fine, thanks.”, you huff, annoyed. It’s been only like ten minutes. They’re not gonna be here, right? Peter said they’ll return tomorrow. Alright. You pull the towel tighter around your body and slowly walk across the room. It’s now or never. You open the door and look outside. No sign of anybody. So you slowly walk next to the wall. You just need to reach the elevator, go into the kitchen and beat his ass. Man, you’re really nervous. You take a deep breath and walk to the elevator. The elevator opens and you slip into it. Thank god, you’re alone. You turn around to look into the mirror. Your wet hair falls on your decollete, your cheeks still a little red from the hot shower, your lips are plump from the lip masks. Wow, you look really good. What a shame that you don’t have your phone to take a selfie. You don’t even notice when the elevator stops. You do notice when the doors open. Your heart drops when you hear two voices, now becoming clearer to hear. No. No. No. You try to keep your cool. Both of them enter and you could drop dead right now. They stop their conversation when they notice you. “Uhm. Ma’am?”, Steve asks while pulling his eyebrows together. Bucky looks really confused. Of course. A half naked woman stands in their elevator. “Oh. Hey.”, you smile softly, trying to ignore your fast beating heart. “It’s me. Uhm. Y/N Y/L/N.” “Little Y/N?” “Queen’s girlfriend?” Both of them ask at the same time. “I’m not Peter’s girlfriend.”, you answer with an eye roll. “Also, I’m not little Y/N anymore. I’m a woman, Bucky.” He looks you up and down and nods. “Yeah, no. I can see that.”, he stutters. You remember how you're clothed and get shy again. You clear your throat and ignore Caps stare. “Have you guys seen Peter?”, you ask, changing the conversation. Captain awakes again and blinks. “Uh, yeah. He went upstairs.” “That little fucker.”, you whisper while pushing the button to your floor again. So the elevator stops one last time before going up again. Your eyes are glued on the floor. That’s awkward. “It was nice meeting you guys again.”, you smile, still not looking up. Instead you just exit the elevator, walking straight to your shared room, ready to beat his ass. “Was that really Y/N?”, Bucky asks Steve quietly while the doors close again. He just nods as a response, his eyes still on the closed doors. 

You yawn and turn around, just to see Peter’s already dead asleep. The movie finished a few seconds ago. Your phone buzzes and you turn around again to see a notification. With tired eyes you unlock your phone. Your roommate sent you a picture of her with a bottle of vodka. A Sigh escapes your parted lips. You’d give anything for a little bit of a party. Why not make one yourself. Excited you grab your headphones and walk out. A few minutes later you stand in the kitchen searching through the cabinets. The headphones blast your favorite music into your head. What a dreamlife, you think as you pull out something. There you go, a little bit of Tequila never hurts. You don’t waste time searching for a shot glass. Instead you drink it straight out of the bottle. Nice. You lean on the counter, humming the little song. Even swaying your hips a little bit. Peter can be such a nerd. Instead of getting your brain fucked out, you’re stuck in this golden cage with a bunch of old people. Suddenly someone pulls one headphone out. The music stops automatically. You turn to your right and stand right up when you realize who it is. “Mister Stark!”, you say with wide eyes. Your head shoots to his hand where he holds your headphone and then back to him, your two little braids flying with you. “Y/N?”, he asks confused and you nod. He then looks you up and down. There you are again, in shorts that barely cover your ass and a cropped sweater. “Yes, sir.”, you reply nervously. Of course you are. Who is standing half naked in his kitchen in the middle of the night just to down a little bit of vodka? Right, you are. “You grew up, huh.”, he says taking the bottle out of your hand. You make a pout but don’t resist. “You could say so, sir.”, you respond. “Well, compliments, princess. You look beautiful.”, he tells you and finally looks into your eyes. And the longer you look at him, the faster your heart beats. Was he always this handsome? “Thank you, sir.”, you reply shy. “Please, call me Tony.”, he sighs. “May I ask why you’re already here?”, you ask now. He raises an eyebrow. “I mean.. Peter. He, uhm. He told me you’d arrive tomorrow.”, you stutter. “Pepper broke up with me so I thought I could as well already return.”, Tony answers. “Oh. I’m sorry.”, you say. “For what?” For asking. “I’m not sure.” He looks you up and down again. “You should go back to Peter, princess.”, he whispers, still not taking his eyes off of you. You feel the heat in your cheeks and once again you ask yourself if he’s always been this gorgeous. “I don’t feel like returning.” Your answer is fully the truth. You’d rather stay here next to him. “You feel like playing with the big ones, sweetheart?”, he wants to know. His voice is hoarse. You bite your lip. And when you understand what may happen you can’t help but giggle. “You could say so, Tony.” 

[many-gendered-mothers]

All tight and right in which condition it is to be hoped we shall all be this      day 4 years,” she wrote in her Diary Paper of 1837. Yet her poetry from beginning to end is concerned with prisons, vaults, cages, bars, curbs, bits, bolts, fetters, locked windows, narrow frames, aching walls. “Why all the fuss?” asks one critic. “She wanted liberty. Well didn’t she have it? A reasonably satisfactory homelife, a most satisfactory dreamlife—why all this beating of wings? What was this cage, invisible to us, which she felt herself to be confined in?” Well there are many ways of being held prisoner,

Anne Carson, The Glass Essay

[criticalrolo]

If you're still doing it, would you make a playlist for Whitney? My half-orc watch captain rogue you did that fantastic piece of? I'd love to see what you come up with.

AAA WHITNEY I LOVE

Take It From Me by KONGOS

Nothing can stop me Nothing holds me back Think you could slow me down? There ain't no turning back

Champion by Barns Courtney

I can take a beating, I'll rise again Burning through the jungle until the end I can live forever, I'll rise again Keep rising up I'm Champion

Man of Stone by Matthew Thiessen & The Earthquakes

Take it down, break it over Until they fit together Move the pieces all around Break it over, from now on

Dreamlife by Tony Anderson

Instrumental

In The Heat Of The Moment by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds

The more that you want it The more that you need it I know you'll be by my side In the heat of the moment When the thunder and lightning come I know that you'll be by my side

[fantasticfelicityfox]

Thinking about my dreamlife of living in a beat up mobile home in the middle of the Nevadan desert again

[fairerhousethanprose]

“Emily is in the parlour brushing the carpet,” records Charlotte in 1828. Unsociable even at home and unable to meet the eyes of strangers when she ventured out, Emily made her awkward way across days and years whose bareness appalls her biographers. This sad stunted life, says one. Uninteresting, unremarkable, wracked by disappointment and despair, says another. She could have been a great navigator if she’d been male, suggests a third. Meanwhile Emily continued to brush into the carpet the question, Why cast the world away. For someone hooked up to Thou, the world may have seemed a kind of half-finished sentence. But in between the neighbour who recalls her coming in from a walk on the moors with her face “lit up by a divine light” and the sister who tells us Emily never made a friend in her life, is a space where the little raw soul slips through. It goes skimming the deep keel like a storm petrel, out of sight. The little raw soul was caught by no one. She didn’t have friends, children, sex, religion, marriage, success, a salary or a fear of death. She worked in total six months of her life (at a school in Halifax) and died on the sofa at home at 2 P.M. on a winter afternoon in her thirty-first year. She spent most of the hours of her life brushing the carpet, walking the moor or whaching. She says it gave her peace. “All tight and right in which condition it is to be hoped we shall all be this day 4 years,” she wrote in her Diary Paper of 1837. Yet her poetry from beginning to end is concerned with prisons, vaults, cages, bars, curbs, bits, bolts, fetters, locked windows, narrow frames, aching walls. “Why all the fuss?” asks one critic. “She wanted liberty. Well didn’t she have it? A reasonably satisfactory homelife, a most satisfactory dreamlife—why all this beating of wings? What was this cage, invisible to us, which she felt herself to be confined in?” Well there are many ways of being held prisoner, I am thinking as I stride over the moor. As a rule after lunch mother has a nap and I go out to walk. The bare blue trees and bleached wooden sky of April carve into me with knives of light.

 The Glass Essay, Anne Carson

[istandardpro]

Wiz Khalifa - Fly Times Vol. 1: The Good Fly Young Credits and Streams

Wiz Khalifa – Fly Times Vol. 1: The Good Fly Young Credits and Streams

Wiz Khalifa is back yet again, and this time it’s with another anthem for all smokers on 4/20! Wiz follows up his release and collaborative effort with rapper Curren$y, “2009”, and now gives us “Fly Times Vol. 1: The Good Fly Young”. If you’re wondering about the credits for “2009”, we also did a credit check for that as well! You can stream and check the credits here. The night prior to the…

[youngsoulcity]

AUNDREY GUILLAUME. / REFUND

Produced by BREGMA & Dreamlife Beats

2022