#i should put my music on shuffle more often

[meiloorunsmoothie]

love will come and find me again just slapping me in the face out of nowhere

[bmpmp3]

i dont use spotify but i did end up doing a new install of poweramp almost exactly a year ago because i switched phones so here's what's the top of the "most played" category. i wanna be involved too LOL

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

my girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother's friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

The curtains stir in the summer breeze, the smell of pollen wafting in and tickling your nose. You scrunch your face, resisting as sneeze and flip the page of the book, your eyes racing across the letters, devouring them. After another year of academia, you’re all too eager to spend your summer devouring your ‘to read’ list. 

The flick of pages marks the passage of time. You don’t sense how the sky sifts from a beaming yellow to a gentle blue. Not until the knock comes at the door and draws you from the world built of prose. You blink and lift your head, mark your page and leave it on your pillow. You push yourself across the low bed and yawn. Only as you don’t have words to read do you feel the fatigue in your eyes. 

“Peanut,” your mother calls you by the childhood nickname you can’t seem to shake, “gonna help with dinner?” 

You open the door to her and step out, “yeah, should do something.” 

“You should,” she chides playfully. “I already got the roast beef in, just need you to do sides.” 

“Great,” you shuffle down the hall behind her and rub your eyes. You don’t know if it’s allergies or reading that has you so dried out. 

Downstairs, you go into the kitchen and the aroma of the roast has your mouth watering already. In your delve into the land of fantasy, you may have forgotten to feed yourself. It’s not an uncommon occurrence; during the school year, you often studied until your head pounded and your stomach roared. The human body tends only to get in the way of the mind. 

You work at peeling potatoes as your mom takes out a medley of vegetables to put in a roasting pan. She seasons as you chop, the low murmur of her outdated music filling the hazy summer air. You can hear the children next door running around and the bristle of trees swaying in the wind. 

“Oh, make sure to throw in a few extra, pea,” she says as you go to curl over the top of the bag, “your brother’s bringing his friend.” 

“Friend? Johnny?” You wonder. 

“That man from his work, Syverson,” she corrects, “with the beard.” 

“Uh yeah, I remember.” 

You’ve met Syverson, or Sy as he prefers. Your brother, Isaac, started his apprenticeship last summer with the man down at the metal shop. There are vague instances in your mind when you recall the large bearded man sitting at the table across from you. He’s older than your brother, you too. Probably closer to your parent’s age. He doesn’t say much either but he’s polite. You think. 

You shrug and pull out some more potatoes to add to peel and cut. You do so quietly, your mind wandering back to your book even as the real world threatens to wipe it away. You’re so swept up in the fraught quest to reclaim a forgotten world that you can hardly focus on the blade. 

You blink as the knife hits the board, too close to your thumb. Pay attention. Often your mom comments that you look far away and just as often you are. Existing in this world can be so boring. Potatoes and roast beef. 

You rinse off the spuds and put them on to boil. You’ll mash them like you always do and add your mother’s ‘secret’ ingredient; herb and cheese sour cream. You’re pretty sure every mother on the block claims that as their little revolution. 

As the water starts to steam, you hear a car pull up and a louder engine behind it. Your mom checks the beef, letting out a gust of savoury air. You are starving. 

As you toss the peels in the bin, the front door opens. Isaac’s voice carries through the house as he chatters on about sparks and some work thing. Your mom’s head pops up as she waits eager for his appearance. 

He peeks into the kitchen as a pair of footsteps follow behind him. You mom greets him with a kiss, “hello, bubby, how was your day?” 

“Mom,” he scowls and wipes his cheek, “it was fine. Burnt myself pretty good.” 

He shows a bandage on his forearm and shrugs. Your mother gasp, “oh, honey!” 

“Told him to put his gauntlets on,” Syverson stands just beyond the doorway, his shadow looming like an evil orc in a cavern, waiting to pounce. You shake off the comparison as he comes into the light of the kitchen, a case of beer in hand. “Brought something for dinner,” he puts down the six-pack and shifts as you notice the red cap and label poking out from under his arm. He catches the bottle before it can slip and presents it to your mother, “and for the ladies.” 

“Oh, Syverson, you’re always so sweet.” 

“Mm, least I can do, y’all having me, feeding me,” he reaches to rub his neck. “Mind if I use the bathroom? Gotta wash my hands.” 

“Course, dear, you know where it is,” she preens. 

He leans on his back foot and his eyes glint in your direction. Despite his gruff exterior, his shaved head and thick beard, and his work-stained tee shirt, his eyes seem to sparkle, “evening,” he nods in your direction, as if he’s only just noticed you. 

“Hi,” you murmur and turn back to wash the starch from the cutting board. 

Having company is always awkward. You’re the only member of your family who isn’t very social. You have your classmates and a few friends you’ll hang out with on occasion but your parents and your brother always seem to have someone with them. If it isn’t one of your mom’s HOA accomplices, it’s one of your dad’s neighbourhood buddies arguing over the barbecue. 

You continue to tidy up as you wait for the food to be ready. You take out some plates and cutlery, wanting to distract yourself by setting the table. You stack the plates and the utensil slides around on top as you carry them into the hallway. You have to stop short as you nearly collide with Sy.  

“Sorry,” he apologises and backs up, “need help?” 

He points to your armful and you smile and shake your head, “all good.” 

“Don’t mind,” he says as he puts his large hands around the stack of plates. They’re pretty thick and heavy on their own but he takes them from you easily. 

“Um, right, then I’ll get... cups.” 

You turn back and flit into the kitchen. Your mom hums as she strains the potatoes. She doesn’t notice you counting glasses from the cupboard and balancing them all in your arms. You go down the hall, this time without obstacle, and into the dining room. You angle awkwardly to put down all the glasses at once.  

Sy lays out the plates and cutlery one at a time, certain to have each perfectly centered and straight. He focuses on the task intently. The sight of his earnest effort contrasted by his burly figure is almost silly. You plunk down the glasses at the corner of each plate, staying on the other side of the table from him. 

“Your back from school,” he says as he finishes, stepping back to cross his arms, making himself even larger. Most people are big compared to you. 

“Mhmm,” you nod with a rigid tight-lipped grin. 

“You graduate?” He asks. 

You try not to show your surprise. You’re not sure you’ve ever had a conversation with him. It’s just nods and grunts sent in your direction. Just acknowledgement. Just courtesy. 

“One more year,” you say, “erm, I’ll go help mom.” 

“Right,” he drops his arms and grips the back of the chair in front of him, “don’t let me keep ya.” 

You inch backwards and spin around, trying not to run away. It isn’t him. It’s you. It’s easier to read dialogue on a page and pretend it’s coming from your lips than it is to hold a conversation in real life. You would rather go back and finish your chapter then sit at the table and eat with your family, especially now that you’ve made it awkward. 

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Co-Stars pt.15

Callum Turner X Actress! Reader

Summary: Y/n is invited of cooking with Flo and gets a little drunk.

Warning: Kinda cringe (I'm sorry)/ alcohol/ Swearing/ use of Y/n/

Word count: 790 words

Florence Pugh invited her on her cooking show. She was excited to go with her, she loved to cook, and she was friends with Flo. She brought Callum with her, and Callum brought Austin. When she arrived, she hugged Florence and took the apron that she gave her. It was a white one with pomegranate all over it. ‘’I’m so excited!’’ she squeals. Y/n chuckles and kiss Callum before Florence goes live.

‘’It’s cooking with Flo, bitches!’’ she puts the knife in the cutting board. ‘’And Y/n is here!’’ Flo exclaims, hugging her again. ‘’Hey everyone! How’s everyone doing?’’ they look in the chat for the answers and then, they look at each other before laughing for no reason. ‘’Guys, today we’re going to do chicken Cajun alfredo, or whatever the order is. But for the drink, I made Y/n’s favorite, a rum n’ coke!’’ she gives her the glass and they tap their glass together before starting to pace around the kitchen to get the ingredients. ‘’By the way, if you hear people talking behind, it’s my husband and my husband’s husband’’ Y/n laughs. Austin, Callum and Florence burst out laughing, Y/n is proud of her joke, as she joins the group laughing.

‘’So now the chicken is seasoned – ‘’ Y/n impulsive thought took control as she slapped the chicken, like she would slap someone’s ass. ‘’- Mate, what the fuck’’ Florence’s smoker laugh took over her laugh, which made Y/n laugh even more. ‘’How many drinks did they have?’’ Austin asked, chuckling. ‘’I don’t know’’ Callum laughed. Y/n was out of breath from laughing so much. ‘’Okay, where were we?’’ she laughed again. Florence took a sip of her drink before looking at her friend. ‘’We have to cook the chicken’’ she explained. ‘’Oh, we should put music!’’ Y/n suggested. Florence nodded before she hit shuffle on her playlist, the first song that came to their ear was Vente Pa’ Ca by Ricky Martin ft Maluma. ‘’I love that song!’’ Y/n exclaimed as she took Florence hands to dance. ‘’The chicken is going to burn, love’’ Callum warned. As Y/n lip synced, Florence quickly took care of the piece of meat.

The pasta was almost done, so was the chicken, Florence and Y/n had about 3 drinks, Austin and Callum’s cheeks were hurting from laughing so much; Y/n was unhinged. Every thought that went through her head, she shared it. ‘’I think I would’ve been burned alive if I lived in Salem when the trial happened, because I have great tits and an opinion.’’ She said, touching the side of her tits, laughing. ‘’I’m hot, they want to make me hotter’’ she giggled. Florence face palmed as she stirred the pastas. ‘’I think you had enough to drink’’ Callum laughed. Y/n nods in agreeing with him. ‘’We’re going to take a little bit of pasta water before dumping it. That’s the secret, pasta water!’’ Y/n exclaims as she takes a scoop of the pasta water. ‘’Someone in the chat said that Callum and Austin are the parents and we’re the children’’ Florence laughs.

‘’Ok! It’s done! Look at how pretty it is!’’ Y/n says as she shows the plate to the camera. ‘’Austin, Callum, come and taste!’’ Florence says. The boys come behind the girls, Callum puts his hands on Y/n’s waist, making her giggle. ‘’That smells amazing!’’ Austin comments. ‘’Yeah, it does!’’ Callum adds. As they take a bite of the food, Y/n and Florence looks at each other. ‘’It’s so fucking good!’’ Y/n exclaims. Florence nods and chuckles. ‘’Babe, you need to come on the show more often’’ Florence says. ‘’I’ll gladly come back’’ Y/n smiles. Austin and Callum take a bite at the food and smile. ‘’That is Gordon Ramsey level’’ Austin exclaims. ‘’It’s really good, oh my! I love it’’ he smiles.

‘’Okay guys, so that was cooking with Flo and Y/n, bitches! See you next time!’’ Florence says as she stops her live. ‘’That was really fun! Thank you so much for the invite’’ Y/n hugs Flo. ‘’You’re welcome here any time. Maybe with less drinks’’ She laughs. Callum agrees as he puts his arm around Y/n’s waist. ‘’Ouh! Next time we can cook shrimp tacos!’’ Y/n proposed. Florence nods as she says goodbye to Austin.

The aftermath of the video on the internet is good. People are saying that Drunk Y/n is unhinged, the fact that Y/n called Austin her husband’s husband is funny, Florence needs to invite Y/n again, Callum’s love contact is physical touch and many more stuff. Y/n was a little bit embarrassed about things she said, but overall she had a really great time, and she wanted to do it again…

[fvllingflower]

5 STAR

pairing: idol!wonwoo afab!reader

genre: smut with some fluff

word count: 1976

warnings: petnames (baby, honey), cursing, hickeys, boob play, soft sex? praise (f receiving), unprotected sex (pls actually be protected tho), softdom!wonwoo, aftercare

--------------------------☆-------------------------------

As a little side hobby for whenever you got bored, you’d write lyrics to made up songs. You keep them in a journal that you keep hidden from your boyfriend Wonwoo. You love him dearly but you knew if he found the journal he would constantly ask what you wrote in it. Majority of the songs you write have to do with Wonwoo, you just think it eases you to write about him. Music was one way you two connected so whenever one of you are listening to songs that remind you of one another you send the song to each other. You remember one time you had your music on shuffle and ‘Ready To Love’ started to play in your ears so you sent the song to Wonwoo, he seemed to think it was cute.

Your anniversary day arrived and you got to come home early. You sat in the living room, curled up on the couch, writing another song for your beloved. You finished the chorus of your song, you titled ‘5 STAR’ and you fell asleep with the journal wide open. Wonwoo knew you’d be home, since you texted him saying you get to go home early. Although when coming home he didn’t expect to see his girlfriend asleep on the couch. He found the sight cute, he smiled softly at you. He sat down the flowers he got you on the counter and walked over to you and he grabbed the journal to put it down but some words caught his eye and couldn’t help to read it. He knew deep down you’d be pissed if you found out he read it but he just couldn’t help it. He felt like his heart could explode with love as he read the words. God how he loved you so much. He kissed your forehead and sat the journal on the coffee table.

He walked in the kitchen and fixed up the daisies. He sat the vase of flowers on the coffee table so that you’ll see them when you wake up. He went to the kitchen and started to cook dinner for the two of you. Midway into him cooking you woke up to the smell of kimchi. Wonwoo heard some muffled groans and looked over at the couch to see you sitting up.

“Hi baby, how was your nap?” He asked. You stood up and walked towards him.

“Well needed,” You murmured. He hugged your waist and kissed your forehead.

“At least you got some rest,” He smiled at your sleepy face. Oh how he adores you.

“What you cooking?” You looked up at him.

“Anniversary dinner for my baby,” He let you go and went back to cooking. You walked back into the living room and picked up your journal and put it back into your purse.

“You know honey I didn’t know you write, so I was shocked to see you have a journal,” He called out. You looked at him and walked into the kitchen where he was.

“Yeah, I do it whenever I’m stressed,” You admitted.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you write about?” He knew the answer but wanted to hear it from you. You smiled at him and hugged his thin waist.

“Mainly about my lovely boyfriend,” You looked at him to see his cheeks turn red.

After some time he finished cooking and served it to you and then to himself. He sat right next to you. You took a bite and looked at him. You felt like teasing him.

“What? Do you not like it?” He asked worriedly.

“Nothing it’s just..” You said monotone. You took another bite.

“You should cook more often,” You smiled. He sighed like he was holding his breath.

“You scared me,” He pouted. You kissed his lips.

“Baby I believe you’re good at everything,” You kissed him once more. You guys continued eating. Once you guys finished, he took the bowls and started cleaning them. You looked at him as he cleaned up and just thought about how lucky you are. He noticed you staring.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He chuckled.

“It’s been four years since our first date, and our first kiss,” You stated.

“Yeah? And I have enjoyed every single kiss since that day, and loved every single smile," He held your hands and kissed you softly.

"I love you so much," You smiled.

"I love you too," His hands went from your hands to your waist. You kissed him again.

“Let me finish cleaning up and then I’m all yours,” He smiled and kissed your forehead. He let you go and went back to the dishes.

You walked into the living room and picked up the vase of flowers and smiled. You carried them into your shared bedroom and sat them on your nightstand. You walked back into the kitchen and hugged his waist.

"Thank you for the flowers," You smiled. He put the last dish up and turned around to look at you. Your arms moving to clasp around his neck.

"They're beautiful," You added.

"Not as beautiful as you," He moved a piece of your hair behind your ear.

"If I'm not wrong, I think you might be in love with me," You teased.

"Madly in love," He leaned in and kissed you softly. His hands went to your hips and fell slowly to your ass. You two started making out in the middle of the kitchen. You pulled away and smiled at him.

"Baby please don't tease me," He plead. You grabbed his hand and lead him into the bedroom.

"I'm not that cruel honey," You shut the door and pulled your shirt off. You walked over to him and tugged at his shirt. He got the hint and threw his shirt off. You two then took off your pants, leaving you just in your underwear. He placed his glasses on his nightstand before he sat down on the bed and you climb on to his lap.

"You're so beautiful," He whispered against your lips before pressing them together. You two started making out again this time your kisses falling down his neck and to his shoulders. You started sucking and nipping on the skin on his collarbone. Oh how you were tempted to leave marks on his neck but if you did the makeup artist would curse you. But you couldn't help yourself and you started nipping at his neck, making sure the guys know that he's yours. As you continued to mark his body, you felt his hands slide up your back and unhook your bra.

"Oh what will the guys think," He groaned. He finally picked you up and quickly changed your positions.

"They'll be jealous that you have someone to do this to," You smirked. He started kissing down your neck. He started biting the skin of the crook of your neck, he'd go from biting to kissing and back to biting. His kisses found your boobs. He started kissing the creases of your boobs and then he started sucking on your nipple and his other hand pitching your other nipple giving extreme pleasure.

"Oh Wonwoo!" You moaned. He raised his head and looked at you.

"I need you," You begged. He kissed your cheek and smiled.

"Anything for you," He whispered. You lifted you hips as he stripped your underwear off. He moved down and started kissing up your legs. Inching closer to where you need him the most.  He then finally placed a kiss on your clit. He stood up and took his underwear off. He collected some of your wetness and spread it across him. He lined himself up and slowly slid into you. He placed kisses across your face as you adjusted to him. You patted his back as a signal for him to move. He slowly started thrusting. Oh you loved how full you felt with him inside of you. He thrusts quickly starting to get faster.

"F-fuck Won," You moan loudly. The pleasure was overwhelming.

"You're so perfect," He groaned. As he continued thrusting you slowly felt the knot tighten and soon release everywhere. Wonwoo continued thrusting until he came inside you. He stayed above you, letting you calm down before he pulled out.

Once he pulled out, he walked into the bathroom and came back with a wet cloth. He softly pulled your legs apart so he could clean you up.

"Honey I'm gonna clean you up," He whispered and you nodded. You flinched at the sudden contact to the cloth. Once he finished cleaning you up, he threw the cloth into the dirty towel bucket. He climbed back into bed with you and cuddled you.

"You okay honey?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah," You moved to look at him.

"I'm sorry this wasn't the best way to celebrate 4 years of us," He mumbled and you shook your head.

"Don't apologize baby, today was perfect," You smiled and kissed his cheek. He then kissed your lips softly.

"I love you," He whispered.

"I love you too," You smiled.

-----------------------------♡--------------------------

You woke up the next morning by yourself. You assumed Wonwoo just had work today. You got up and threw on one of his hoodies and some underwear. You walked into the kitchen and saw Wonwoo, shirtless, and drinking his morning coffee. He turned around and smiled at you.

"Morning sleepy head," He sat his coffee down as he got towards you to give you a kiss on the lips.

"Why are you shirtless?" You asked.

"I'm washing clothes," He replied.

"Mhm, just so we know I'm not complaining," You smiled softly and he chuckled and took a sip of his coffee.

"Baby I know you well enough, I'd know if you're complaining," He smiled. You noticed the hickeys you left on him and couldn't help but touch them.

"You like them? My beautiful baby gave them to me," He joked.

"Sorry I marked your neck.." You looked down and Wonwoo cupped your face.

"Don't be sorry, I like them," He smiled widely. His words making you blush.

"Do you have practice today?" You asked and he nodded.

"You can't stay home?" You pouted.

"No, I wish I could," He kissed your forehead. He walked away and into the laundry room to put his clothes into the dryer. He came back and sat on the couch, you followed and sat next to him. He picked you up and sat you on his lap. He looked like he remembered something but shrugged it off.

"Did you remember something?" You asked and he smiled.

"You know me so well," He kissed your cheek. He pulled you off of him and onto the couch as he stood up and went into the bedroom for something. He came back out with a tiny black box.

"I remembered I got you a little something for our anniversary," He smiled as he sat next to you. He handed you the box and you opened it. You saw a gold ring with a ruby heart in the middle. You looked at him in shock.

"It's a promise ring honey," He smiled, knowing you thought he was proposing.

"Wonwoo it's beautiful," You smiled widely, you sat the box aside and hugged Wonwoo tightly. He took the ring out of the box and slid it onto your left ring finger.

"I promise to love you endlessly, no matter what hardships we face, and that I'll be with you forever," He smiled.

"I fucking love you Jeon Wonwoo," You cupped his face and kissed him passionately.

"I fucking love you too Y/N," He smiled. He went back to kissing you, this time pulling you back onto his lap. You two continued attacking each other's lips. Easy to say he ran a little late to practice.

[lonely-pcp]

Alternatives to telepathic communication

hey y’all! I just wanted to compile my own little list of communication methods that aren’t telepathic, as I struggle a bit with that sorta stuff and it’s kinda annoying seeing posts that don’t really go in depth about how many different ways there are to communicate with spirits and egregores. So I decided to make this post for the people who struggle with that as well!

Tarot

tarot is one of my favorite methods of divination, so I wanted to start off this list with it, of course. It definitely deserves a post of its own on using it for communication, so I’m not gonna go too in depth. Plus, some people have strict parents, but there’s plenty of alternatives. But tarot is definitely one of those things that you should research on your own, because there’s way too much to be said, and I’m listing methods, not doing a crash course on tarot. But a good way to use it for communication is to interpret the images intuitively, and if you get stuck, only then try looking up the meaning of the card. Chances are you might get a feeling that doesn’t exactly relate to the card meaning, but trust your intuition! The best way of knowing what the spirit is saying is by trusting the first thing that comes to your mind. Don’t doubt yourself!

but anyway, if tarot interests you, feel free to research it!

Playing card divination

this form of divination is basically tarot’s slightly easier cousin. It works amazingly for yes/no questions as well! Plus it’s a good start for people who practice in secret. I personally used this method of communication when I first started working with J, and it’s helped me a bit with my intuition as well, as I was able to guess what he was up to without being overwhelmed by too many meanings.

Here’s a chart showing the meanings of each playing card, excluding jokers. I personally use one joker as the fool, and the second joker as the world. It’s up to you if you even want to use them though.

There’s also an exercise for telepathy that can be mixed with cartomancy if you so choose! It involves drawing a card without looking and trying to intuitively guess if said card is red or black. If you do this with a spirit you can interpret the card after turning it over as well!

Shufflemancy

This form of divination is ABSOLUTELY AMAZING for beginners and closeted witches, as all you really need is a device that can play music, and most people have phones anyway! A lot of people recommend making a dedicated playlist for this form of divination, but I recommend using your entire music library if possible, because it can take a while to build a perfect shufflemancy playlist from scratch.

I’ve heard of 3 main ways to do shufflemancy, at least with a music streaming service like Spotify or Apple Music:

1: shuffling and skipping - this is the most common form of shufflemancy. It involves putting a playlist on shuffle and skipping a desired number of songs to get an answer to your question.

2: indicator songs - this involves assigning the spirit a song to represent them, and listening to music on shuffle. If the indicator song comes on, the song after will be their message. I use this method quite often since I usually listen to my liked songs on Spotify using shuffle anyway. You can even ask the spirit what they want their indicator song to be using the shuffling and skipping method!

3: asking the spirit - this method involves simply asking the spirit to play a song and pressing play on whatever playlist you’re using and seeing what comes up. If you feel the song relates to the spirit, then you’ve probably contacted them.

The only downside to shufflemancy is that you do have to have a wide range of music to get a decent reading, as it has better results the more variety you have. And another downside is that if you listen to a lot of instrumental music (like EDM, piano covers, etc) then you won’t have lyrics to go by, which kinda makes things a little harder. But it’s still a great method for beginners who want to practice their intuition!

Some general advice

TAKE NOTES! This is something that is definitely needed for this type of work, especially if you forget stuff easily. Take notes on what you ask, what card or song you get, the context and meanings. It will help you in the long run!

adding onto the first point, don’t be afraid to look up meanings! This mainly applies to tarot, as there are pre-established meanings for each card. Take notes on what you find!

Your intuition will always be above the traditional meanings. If you get a feeling that doesn’t align with the traditional meaning of what you’re looking at, it most likely means that you need to know whatever your intuition is trying to tell you. If you don’t get that feeling, that’s completely fine too.

that’s all for now, because I need to get this post out of my drafts. Let me know if you’d like a part 2, as there’s a bunch of other methods that I could list!

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #3

Prompt #3: Battle

It's a bit peculiar that Subway Master Emmet wears white all the time. The commuters just think it's a 'twins' thing- the depot agents know better. In other words, Emmet's tailor hates him.

*Inspired directly by @kobandan. Their comic for day two absolutely activated the few neurons in my noggin.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

Wrappers crunched. Small talk and loud chatter alike filtered in and out of the office as footsteps echoed on the polished linoleum.

“C’mon Ingo! Relax a little!” From within her chair right beside Ingo, Elesa reached across the table into the takeout bag, pulling out a handful of loose fries. “You know, there’s a concert that’s gonna be happening in Virbank this weekend,” she hummed, taking a sip of her drink. “The one with that singer that you liked back when we were teenagers. What’s his name again? Piers, I think? And then you got Emmet into it too!” Elesa then brightened.  “I know! You should come with me! Both of you guys! I have extra tickets and I think it would be nice- to reintroduce you to that kind of stuff.” Elesa playfully nudged Ingo in the ribs with her elbow. “A fun little bonding activity~ Well? Come on. What do you think, Go-Go?

“A…band? Ah, but aren’t musical concerts quite… loud?” Ingo replied hesitantly. It had been some time since he had returned from Hisui and he had found that the modern world was… well, to put it mildly, ‘loud’ would be an understatement. The Battle Subway was loud enough- Ingo often found himself making a beeline to his and Emmet’s office to recover from the mental strain of working in such a vivacious environment. But he found himself warming up to the idea more and more as his friend enthusiastically elaborated, taking small bites out of the ‘loaded burger’ that Elesa had so quickly jumped to buy for him.

               At that moment, the door to the main office clattered open. Boots clicked on linoleum. Fabric shuffled. Keys jangled.

               In strode Emmet, a massive grin on his face as he closed the office door with one foot, hanging his hat on the stand and ripping off his gloves. Upon seeing both Ingo and Elesa leaning up against one another, the man practically beamed. He opened his mouth to speak. Elesa beat him to the punch.

“Em... Honey... Sweetheart. What in dragons’ name happened to you?” Elesa immediately set down her food but made no attempt to rise, leaning back in her chair with a disgusted expression as she gave the man a slow once-over. “Your clothes!” The woman then stiffened, crossing her arms. “Tell me you didn’t go and service another engine with your battling gear. You have a bad habit of forgetting to change.”

“I. Did not!” Emmet pulled off his subway coat and half-fell into an empty spinning chair, picking his feet up as his chair rocketed into the wall. He then pushed himself over to his desk and eagerly pulled over his stack of maintenance documents. “This isn’t oil. It’s dust. Soot. Ash.”

               Emmet’s entire outfit- his usual sparkling white slacks, jacket, hat, and dress shoes- each were stained and smudged with varying levels of grime, each atrocious and each downright offensive. His hat and slacks were splashed in sickly purples and greens, speckled black patches like soot decorating his shoes and slack edges. His jacket had numerous holes in the tail end as though a dragon-type had gnawed on it and a few buttons had either been torn close to falling off or were gone entirely. A massive chunk of Emmet’s hat- including the Gear Station insignia pin- were just completely gone, exposing the stuffing and the nylon inside.

Even Emmet’s standard black dress shirt and gloves were completely ruined. The starched collar and sleeves of Emmet’s shirts had what looked to be bleach spots on them, one of his shirt tails completely untucked and shredded to bits. His black gloves were almost completely white to the fingertips, the leather around the knuckles- concertedly- missing as if cleanly taken out with a hole punch.

Emmet didn’t look the least concerned that half of the skin along his arms and a section of his leg were completely visible, instead seeming to enjoy the attention as he tapped his foot against the tile. His own hair- messy and half-alive with static, was blown backward as if Emmet had decided to go skydiving for the first portion of his shift.

               Ingo raised an eyebrow. An inkling of his mind raised the question that he wasn’t nearly as concerned for his brother as he should’ve been. As if it was something to be expected and just as easily tolerated.  “You are unusually chipper for a man that’s filthy and practically indecent,” Ingo murmured, locking eyes with Emmet who leaned his head against his hand lazily. “You look as though you’ve crawled through the insides of an unmaintained tender.” Ingo took a long swig from his drink, narrowing his eyes. “Slept in one, too.”

               Emmet smirked. “You’re one to talk. The water ran black when you were reintroduced to modern plumbing,” he drawled, still staring unflinchingly into Ingo’s eyes. “You thought being dirty was normal. And you were covered in actual, literal dirt.”

               Ingo immediately felt his face heat up. “That is not the point here!” he claimed, not quite meeting Emmet’s eyes as he crossed his arms. “Why do you look as though you’ve strapped yourself to the tracks and let numerous trains run over you?”

               Elesa snorted, almost choking on her drink. Her entire face went flush as she began laughing. “That’s one way to put it, Iggs!”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Elesa” Emmet chided, his own face beginning to redden as he scooted his chair purposefully away from the two of them. “That is not what happened.”

“Would you care to explain then, Emmet?”

               Emmet grinned before unclipping his pokémon belt and setting it on the desk for both Elesa and Ingo to see. Almost every single pokéball was in the same state of disrepair: burn marks, scrapes, dents, and dings in each one. “A verrry powerful trainer visited my line today!” Emmet beamed. “They arrived with a looot of super strong pokémon! It was very cool! They brought friends! A lot of strong friends! It was fantastic!” Emmet then hunkered down into himself, bringing his shaking hand to his chin as he snatched up a loose piece of paper, frantically scribbling down barely legible words. “I should remember that. ‘Follow Me’ on a bulky pokémon- preferably attached with a defense-boosting item or maybe leftovers. Skill Link Ability pokémon with a Rocky Helmet maybe? Or perhaps Loaded Dice would be better?”

“Okay, so your battle was crazy,” Elesa interjected, carefully but concertedly scanning the massive amounts of damage in Emmet’s outfit. “But how did your clothes get so bad? What’d you do? Stand in front of your pokémon while they were fighting?”

               Ingo involuntarily snorted, struggling to conceal his laughter after remembering that his good friend Dawn used to perform that exact same scenario when they were still in Hisui- to psych out the few wielders that existed. That or just mess about. Ingo could perfectly imagine Emmet doing the same right in front of his Eelektross.

“Overheat,” Emmet started, pointing to the massive burn streaks staining his shoes. “Acid Spray.” Another gesture to his heavily bleached shirt. “Bug Buzz.” The torn threads in his shirt. “Discharge.” Another pointed finger at the torn fabric on his jacket sleeves. “The battle was verrry serious! So much fun! They used all kinds of new strategies that I haven’t seen before! They brought a bunch of new pokémon! Them and their friends! There were six of them!” Emmet exclaimed, his grin growing wider and wider as he rocked back-and-forth in his chair, causing the frame to squeak. “Each one stronger and smarter than the last!”

“Did you at least win, Em?” Elesa asked tiredly. “You better have. Getting all that fixed is gonna cost a pretty penny.”

               Emmet’s grin almost stretched across his face as he fully leaned back in his chair. “All six of them won against me! Just barely! It was the most fun I’ve had in months! I hope they return to the Super Doubles Line soon so that I can battle them again!”

“Wait. The Super Doubles Line?” Elesa clarified. “As in, the ‘challenging trainer usually gets obliterated by the seventh car’ Doubles Line? The ‘nothing but depot agents’ Doubles Line? The- ”

“You can just say that you haven’t prevailed on those particular tracks,” Ingo teased, stealing the rest of the spare fries at the bottom of the bag. “I would never presumably figure out that a record exists of how many times you have been ejected from the Super Singles, Doubles, and Multi Lines. And I would certainly- never- look at those records.” Ingo then blinked innocently at Elesa as he scooted his chair just the tiniest inch away from the woman who looked as though she were about to strangle him.

“You do not have a record!”

“We do!” Emmet replied snappily. “All trainers have their battle facility records locked onto their IDs. It is not hard to find.”

“Nevermind. You’re being overly ominous again and we’re not going down that road. But the Super Doubles Line? Wow. Must’ve been some kind of monsters to get all the way through- the six of them in one day- just to destroy you… You had fun?”

“Yyyup!”

“What on earth are you guys feeding the Depot Agents on your supers lines anyway?” Elesa groaned, pointedly asking Ingo instead of Emmet who had begun to whizz through his papers. “I tried getting through once- way too strong for me.”

“We feed them coal slag and commuter debris,” Ingo answered with a stoic face, crumbling up the wrapper of his burger and tossing it in the nearby trash can. “Food wrappers. Plastic. Newspapers. Chewing gum. Some rust scraps off of repaired engines prevent any potential iron deficiencies.”

“Ah, but you are forgetting grease, Ingo,” Emmet chimed in. “Grease- Curve rail grease is essential for a depot agent’s balanced diet. That and stripped screws. And maybe a healthy serving of handrail and seat sweat.”

“Eugh. You guys are absolute loons,” Elesa responded without missing a beat, fully leaning against Ingo as the woman took a joking picture of Emmet in his atrocious work attire looking completely unbothered. She then sent the picture to Skyla unprompted. “You know, I’ve never seen someone so happy to have lost six times in a row at their place of work,” Elesa commented snidely under her breath. “Did you at least steal some pointers from them like you usually do, Em?”

               At that, Emmet whipped out a small, battered notepad from his coat pocket, eagerly showing off the multitudes upon multitudes of detailed battling graphs, paragraphs of messy handwriting, and heavily highlighted sections. “I did! And now! I want to recruit more pokémon to the team!” He said it more to himself than to Elesa or Ingo, pulling open his desk drawer in order to pull out a thick, heavily-banded book that looked close to bursting.

“Oh sweet dragons above- you’re pulling out Ol’ Reliable, Em? What’s the occasion? Gonna make some more abridgements? Honestly, you should just have the library make a copy- that’s a whole concrete brick right there.”

“Says the woman with five hand-banded design template books twice the size in her house,” Emmet snarked back, struggling to open the cover of his tome. “Let’s see. Eenie, meenie, miney… huh. That’s odd.”

“What’s the matter?” Ingo asked, taking a massive bite out of his second burger. He was quick to wipe the sauce off of his cheek. “What are you looking for?”

“Foreign pokémon.” Emmet then paused, scowling before stowing the book away back under his desk, crossing his arms. “Foreign pokémon,” he grunted. “Abilities. I don’t know the abilities of the pokémon I battled against today. I don’t even remember what the names of the species are.”

“Emmet. You do realize that the Battle Subway collects and archives trainer data during registration, don’t you?” Ingo piped up. “The free connectivity to the C-Gear? To Entralink? To the recommended vs recorder? You were the one to tell me that all trainers must register their preferred pokémon with an attendant before they even so much as board a subway car. Unless perhaps… you did forget about that particular clause…?”

               Emmet was out of his seat in a moment’s notice, the seams in his shirt beginning to splinter and pop apart as the man shoved his hat back onto his head and grabbed his jacket off of the hook, marching squarely over toward the office door. “Be back soon. Next destination: the attendant’s desk.” The door slammed shut after him.

               A moment passed by before Elesa once again reached across the table and pulled out a carton of onion rings alongside Emmet’s burger that he hadn’t even touched. “I call dibs.”

“Absolutely not. I paid for those.”

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Shifting Wings: Chapter Fifteen

Shifting Wings: Before the Raven Matthew, there was Jessamy, and Jessamy came with a little sister by the name of Adrienne. Dream adores his two little Ravens, but after over a hundred years of imprisonment and the death of Jessamy, Dream will find that he has not just lost his companion, but his beloved little Raven Adrienne no longer brightens the halls of his Palace. None of his staff wish to speak of where the Raven has gone, but the silent new resident of the palace is cause for question. After all, she was the one who aided in his release. If none of his subjects would help him find Adrienne, perhaps she could lead him to the whereabouts of the missing Raven. If only the woman wasn’t so flighty and hard to track down.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material (Unprotected Sex is a No No), You Get ONE Happy Chapter!

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x FemaleRaven!Reader, NAMED Reader (I like the name).

Word Count: ~2.4k

Previous | Masterlist

“I’ve got ‘em, Luce,” You called as you picked up the books that had appeared on the shelving bookshelf, newly written. Lucienne leaned over the railing of the second floor, her brow furrowed.

“That is not your duty, Adrienne,” Holding the books against your chest, you looked up at the librarian with a raised brow.

“I didn’t say it was,” You replied before pointing out the obvious. “But you are swamped and I’ve nothing to do so don’t argue with me.” Lucienne wanted to glare at you as you moved towards the shelves, but she couldn’t argue with that fact.

“If Lord Morpheus catches you…”

“Lord Morpheus is far too busy to be constantly watching me,” You cut her off while sliding a book into place. “And should it come to that, I will handle it.”

“He may be busy but he shall never be so busy that he does not have the time to check on you,” Lucienne warned before shuffling away. You turned back to the shelves and put the rest of the books in your arms, away. Ultimately, you found yourself wandering the halls of the palace, enjoying seeing the many dreamers that now frequented the realm. You preferred it to be more lively for you knew that it pleased Morpheus to see his realm filled once again.

There were a group of dreamers wandering through the open parts of the palace, guided by Pācātus, the dream of calm and peacefulness. Of course they weren’t explicitly supposed to follow her, for the Dreaming was a place to dream not be hindered by walls. Occasionally some broke away to inspect places of the palace closer, like the ballroom, or the billiards room, even the music room was a popular gathering place. Hands behind your back, you wandered yourself, admiring the many murals painted upon the ceiling.

You probably ought to spent a week just walking the halls, seeing all of the murals that decorated both walls and ceilings… but even then it wouldn’t be enough time to full enjoy the place you lived within.

“You like art too?” Upon hearing a voice beside you, you turned your head to see a dreamer admiring the artwork. You smiled pleasantly.

“Very much so, I consider it my profession,” The dreamer raised his eyebrow at your words and his own smile widened. “I haven’t painted murals like this,” You continued, turning your eyes back to the artwork high above. “But I love to draw and paint.”

“Is that why you are here and not with the tour group?” The dreamer asked, taking a step closer. “I mean the dream leading it seems really knowledgable and how often do you get to visit a place like this?”

“I’m not one to follow the predetermined path,” You answered, turning in place to face him. “Do you enjoy the pencil and brush as well? Or do you prefer to appreciate?”

“I’m a photographer,” The dreamer explained to you, he flashed you another charming smile. “I do a lot of portraits and I can say that you are a very photogenic woman,”

“Am I?” You blinked and considered his words. “I do not think I have ever had my picture taken, let alone had a portrait made.”

“Well that’s a shame, you are such a beautiful woman.” You opened your mouth to thank him for his compliment, when someone called your name, your other name.

“Corvus,” Your head snapped around to see Morpheus brooding at the other end of the room. He was glowering, you could see that. He had also called you Corvus. He only did that for official business and even then it was never to you, always in reference. “Come, we have work to do.” Had you forgotten a meeting or talk with him? What had sullied his mood? You couldn’t remember and looked back to the dreamer with an apologetic smile.

“Apologies, but I must return to my duties, please enjoy the rest of your stay within our realm,” You were walking past the dreamer towards Morpheus, unable to see the shock and disappointment on the dreamers face. When you reached Morpheus, he took your elbow and was promptly striding away, pulling you along. Morpheus’s pace was fast, his long legs taking great strides while you scrambled to catch up. “Morpheus?” You asked, panicking that you had forgotten something important with the way he was dragging you along. “Morpheus did I forget—”

You were spun in dizzying circle while ushered into an alcove. Just as your back hit the wall, Morpheus cupped the side of your face and loomed over you, pressing his lips against your own. He kissed you with ferocious passion, highlighted by a touch of possession for he had not liked the sight of a dreamer flirting with you. You were his consort, not that dreamer’s. So the Endless kissed you, licked at your lips with his devilish tongue until you parted them with a soft sigh and then took more.

You whimpered softly when his tongue tangled with yours and lifted yourself onto your toes. Your hands slipped over his shoulders and pulled Morpheus closer to your body, and the Endless fed off it. Morpheus clutched you closer, his free hand wandering over your sculpted body and devouring what he found there. Breaking the tongue lock, Morpheus kissed you again and again, ravaging your lips until they stung and you were gasping. Melting against him.

“You are my consort,” He growled against your lips, his breaths heavy and thick. You shuddered and raised a hand to slip your fingers into midnight strands. He kissed you once more, this time pressing so close your faces were touching. “And I should make you my queen so that all dreamers know the you are not available.” Oh, oh my. Now you understood what had gotten into him. Stroking your fingers through Morpheus’s hair, you pushed back against his rabid kisses. You flicked your tongue along his lips, enjoying the way Morpheus’s grasp upon your body tightened, and then slipped your tongue across his once more. You really could never get enough of his cosmic taste. Several more moments of fevered kisses passed before Morpheus pulled back, resting his forehead on yours and brushing his fingers down your cheek. “I am going to make you my queen, Adrienne, tomorrow if it means that every dreamer knows you are mine.”

You blinked and tilted your head back to look in his eyes.

“Morpheus, I am sure that is not necessary…” You soothed, running your fingers further through his hair and nuzzling your face against his. Your physical touch always seemed to calm him down. “The dreamers are fleeting and ignorant, take no mind to their whims.”

“Their whims should not involve you, beloved,” Morpheus answered you, soaking in the heat from your lips and face. He wanted more. He wanted so much more and he could have it. You didn’t gasp or blink when Morpheus plucked your feet from the floor, you didn’t mind when sand wove around your body and the alcove disappeared. You definitely didn’t complain when you and Morpheus appeared in your bedroom and you were deposited onto your bed. Morpheus loomed over you, framing you in while his lips carved lines of tingles along your shoulder and neck.

“You know I am only yours,” You whispered, sliding your fingers over Morpheus’s shoulders and up his neck. Turning your head, you kissed his hair. “Did you not form me for you?” A rumble sounded from Morpheus, one caught between satisfaction and yearning. “Your dream of ravens. Your Corvus.”

“I wish for all who sets their gaze upon you to instantly know that you are mine,” He added, teeth tugging at the neckline of your waistcoat, then to your button down. You were always dressed impeccably, there was no denying that, but at the moment? Your clothes were a hinderance. So he got rid of them without a second thought. Morpheus pressed his mouth against your neck, kissing your skin and running his teeth at the point where your pulse of life fluttered.

Moaning sweetly, one of your hands departed onyx locks to drag down Morpheus’s neck. The Endless shivered beneath your touch, raspily groaning beneath your barely there touch. Morpheus had an infinite amount of patience, but not when it came to you. While his hands wandered your body with an increased fervor, teeth scraped up your neck. Morpheus returned his lips to yours. He kissed you hungrily, body draping along yours as remaining fabric separating your bodies disappeared.

Morpheus held your jaw and kissed you repeatedly for a few seconds more, slowly, deeply, making sure that his tongue was as tangled with yours as possible. Your fingertips trickled down his back, tracing the beautiful lines before you sank your nails into his flesh and breathlessly whined. You could only take him kissing you like this for a little while before needed more.

“Morpheus,” You whined, squirming beneath him and scratching further at his skin. Your Endless lover dragged his tongue across your lip and kissed you deeply once more before pulling back to look in your eyes. You gave him a pleading look and tugged on his hair. “Please don’t tease me, not this day,” You whimpered, feeling his beautifully sculpted body pressing against yours. Morpheus nuzzled your face and brushed his lips back over yours.

“Do not despair, my dream, for I do not intend to keep you at my mercy,” Morpheus purred, running a hand down your side and appreciating your gentle curves. That devilish touch didn’t stop until your legs were pushed apart, and even then, as Morpheus slid his cock into your eagerly waiting body, his touch was quick to return to your stomach. He could feel the way you trembled, lavished in your breathy sounds, and thoroughly enjoyed the way you twisted beneath him for more.

“Morpheus, my love,” You gasped out when he pressed the length of his body against yours. You could feel every inch of his length within you, feel every hardened muscle and tendon that was draped along your softer body. Your walls clenched around Morpheus’s cock and he angled your face so he was looking in your eyes once more.

“Are you really that hungry for me, my dream?” He questioned softly. You opened your mouth to reply but midway through your first syllable, Morpheus drew his hips back and sank back into your hot cunt. A strained gurgle departed your lips while you dug the nails of your left hand into his back. He nuzzled your face and brushed his lips against yours. “Hmm? Use your words, beloved,” You wanted to. Oh how you wanted to, but every time you tried he just thrust back into your body and stole your breath and sound. That made the Endless very happy, for his smirk widened every time you whimpered or squeaked when his hips met yours. He liked the feeling your pelvis rubbing against his, the more skin the better.

It was a particular vice of his to feel your arousal slipping from your body and smearing against his skin when he ground his hips against yours. Feel the way you slowly writhed and clung closer each and every time Morpheus’s cock slipped through your clenching walls to bury so deeply you would feel him for days. Morpheus was obsessed with you, obsessed with your touch, with your love, and his being ached with how much he felt for you. You cried out once more, your body clenching around the cock that somehow managed hit the perfect spot every time Morpheus thrust into your body. The pleasure building within your body was getting to be too much, that you knew. Morpheus pressed his lips against the skin beneath your ear.

“Tell me, my dream,” He rasped, urging you, pushing you towards ecstasy in a way that left your nails raking harshly across his back. “Tell me, beloved, how much do you need me?” You gasped and clenched your legs around him, digging fingers into his flesh, bucking your hips into the ones crashing against your own. “Tell me.”

“Ravenous,” You finally managed to wail, twisting your face so your own as near his. You had tears of frustration within your eyes because as much as you wanted to feel the high of an orgasm, your dark and dangerous lover was keeping you at the brink and not allowing you to fall. “I. Am. Ravenous!”  Entirely pleased with your wails, Morpheus kissed your lips and pushed you over the edge.

Head falling back, your entire body convulsed for a few seconds, tremoring and shaking as you came harshly around Morpheus’s cock. The high and pleasure rushing through your veins had such a grip on your body you could barely feel Morpheus continuing to fuck you, eyes glowing as he finally chased after his own pleasure. He spilled his seed into your body, shuddering and clutching you close to him when you whimpered and twitched, your body going slack beneath him. Morpheus allowed himself the pleasure to half lay on you, using your soft body as a place of comfort.

“I do not believe Abel will forgive us if we elope.” You spoke softly, slowly coming down from the high of pleasure and ecstasy. Your fingers returned to dark strands and you stroked Morpheus’s hair “And Matthew said he wants to be a bridesman, but I do not know what that means…”

“It is tempting thought.” Morpheus mused, nuzzling his face into your neck. “But you are right, beloved, many of our people would not be happy if we did so.”

“So what shall we do then?” You asked, wondering what to do about this predicament… because the longer you remained unmarried, the higher the chance there was of Morpheus taking off with you to elope.

“First thing tomorrow I shall convene with Lucienne and Mervyn to discuss planning our wedding, beloved,” Morpheus murmured, kissing your neck. You smiled and stroked his scalp, holding him close and resting your cheek against the top of his head. “We shall be joined within Fiddler’s Green, at the lavender grove, surrounded by our people and family.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest. Jessamy’s remains were buried in the lavender grove. You would be getting married with your sister at your side. Tears prickled at the edges of yours, tears of both sadness and happiness. Jessamy would never truly be gone, for she would live on in the heart of The Dreaming.

“That sounds perfect, my Dream.” You whispered, finally at peace with your sisters passing.

Date Published: 8/9/23

Last Edit: 8/9/23

Previous | Masterlist

[crowborn666-writes]

Red Feathers

(Real in Río popped up in my shuffle list and I NEEDED to write this. Such a jam. The song probably doesn’t match the vibe I’ve got in mind for this fic, but the image of Hawks seeing his s/o wearing red feathers won’t leave my head.)

Hawks x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romantic

Summary: While enjoying a festival in Japan, you’re suddenly dragged away to create a surprise for your husband.

(Reader has an established quirk similar to Monoma’s where they can copy quirks! You can copy a quirk longer than Monoma can, but the drawback is a weakening in power using said quirk. I’m calling it Mimicry.)

~~~~~~

You and Keigo walked hand in hand, weaving through the crowd as you visited the various shops and stalls.

You had come to this festival every year since you were little, but this is the first time you were going with your husband.

“What do you think we should do next?” Keigo asked, just as you caught sight of familiar white ears.

Mirko was suddenly pulling you off to the side, shouting to Keigo that she’d return you later.

“I’ll be back, Kei!” You laughed behind you, earning an easy grin and a wave in return.

“(Y/n), me and a few others are gonna do the annual dance up on the stage, but we need a bird. Think you can copy Hawks’ quirk for a while?”

You flushed at the thought of so many people watching you dance, but then the image of a red faced Keigo popped into your head.

And you love seeing a red faced Keigo.

So naturally you agreed.

You and Mirko had practiced the dance ever since you both were little kids, so you knew it by heart.

You were pulled backstage, sending a quick text to Keigo to go see the show for a surprise.

You were dressed up in a short, red and black yutaka, and as the other girls were tying up your hair, you grasped the red feather earrings you wore and copied Keigo’s quirk from them. Red plumes of feathers sprouted from your shoulder blades, fanning out into brilliant red wings.

A few costume feathers were tied into your hair, and after a bit of makeup you were ready.

Mirko was naturally dressed up as a rabbit, and one of the Pussycat girls was there to stand in as a cat.

The dance told a story that featured animals in the forest, and how they had to put differences aside to guide a human home.

You all got into position, and waited for the curtains to open as the music and narration began.

Keigo had wandered up to the huge stage you’d mentioned in your text, just in time for the narration to begin. He quickly dug out his phone camera, ready to record the show for you in case you missed it when the curtains opened.

He froze, thumb hovering over the record button until his phone locked itself again, a heavy flush overtaking his face as he spotted red feathers.

The bird was introduced in the play, and you stood in time, flaring out the winged copy of his quirk for emphasis of your character.

The other girls were introduced soon after, and the play went on normally, just like every year before it.

But Keigo was too distracted to pay attention, too focused on the red feathers that adorned your form. Keigo couldn’t look away. Was his face as red as the feathers? Were his own wings puffed up?

The play ended sooner than he would’ve liked, but you came waltzing up to him once people began to disperse.

“What’d you think, Kei?” You asked, grinning cheekily at his blushing face.

Keigo was at a loss for words, eyes roving over your costumed form before he shook his head.

“You were amazing! I didn’t know you could dance so well.”

It was your turn to flush now. “Ah well, practicing that dance with Mirko for several years has its perks.”

He was at your ear now, arms looping around you to pull you closer. “You should borrow my quirk more often.”

You giggled in response, patting his chest. “I borrow it again when we get home, for now I need to return this costume.”

[blooming-violets]

43: giving them a piggy-back ride

[from this prompt list] [feel free to request a prompt from the list]

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

The Piggy-Back

"Are we there yet?" Peter dragged his feet behind you as you trekked ahead. "Can't I just swing us there? It would be so much faster."

You stopped walking and turned around with a huff, "Peter Benjamin Parker, you are worse than a child!" You stuck your finger out at him in an accusatory manner. "We have to walk six blocks. That is not far. We do not need to swing everywhere. And, besides, it messes up my hair and I get wind burn. I'm sick of swinging. I would like to show up to this event not looking like I crawled out of a wind tunnel."

The two of you were attempting to walk the few blocks to your friend's house party. It was colder than you anticipated outside and, you had to admit, that swinging there would be faster. Still, you didn't want to risk the hard work you put into doing your hair. No amount of hairspray could hold it in place after a swing through the city.

"But it's cold," he pouted at you. His bottom lip stuck out to resemble a toddler about to throw a tantrum and his eyes widened into pleading, round saucers.

The look made you burst into laughter, "You're pathetic. Aren't you supposed to be a tough crime fighting superhero?"

Peter shook his head, keeping up the pout, "Not when I don't have a suit on. Now I'm just a normal person who's cold and sick of walking." He shuffled up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, hiding his face into the collar of your jacket. "Carry me the rest of the way."

You gave him another laugh, "You should be the one carrying me." You untangled yourself from his grasp and bent your knees. "Hop on, Spidey. I'll piggyback you. It's only two more blocks."

His amused giggle filled you with joy, "I'll squish you."

"Give it a try! I'm stronger than you think."

Peter didn't question you further and he carefully hopped up onto your back with a kind of grace that only Spider-Man could manage. The second his weight hit you, you took a few running steps forward to keep your balance, before quickly finding your footing again. He wasn't as heavy as you thought he'd be but it was still a struggle to stay up right.

You gave a grunt and attempted to stumble onward to your destination, "Alright. I got this."

His laughter filled your ear and tickled your cheek as he nuzzled his head next to yours, "I'm impressed you didn't immediately fall flat on your face. I should travel like this more often."

You responded with another grunt, struggling to get any words out as you concentrated on not dropping him. The two of you made it approximately one full block before your legs gave out. Peter jumped off and wrapped a protective arm around your waist right before your knees could hit the concrete.

"Careful," he warned with a smile. He steadied you back on your feet and planted a kiss to the top of your head. "I told you I would squish you. Come here, it's my turn now."

He bent down nice and low for you to scramble onto his back instead. You clambered on top of him, a lot less graceful than he had been getting onto yours, and wrapped your legs around his waist. He hoisted you up higher with ease and started a steady jog down the street.

"Now you're just showing off," you rolled your eyes but smiled as you tighten your grip around his neck.

"I'm making up for the lost time. It took you a solid five minutes to walk one block. Slowest horse I've ever ridden."

You gently slapped his chest in protest, saying sarcastically, "You ride a lot of horses, Peter? And, relationship tip, never refer to your partner as a horse."

He chuckled, "Yeah, the second it came out of my mouth, I regretted my choice of words." He slowed his jog as he approached the party. "Oh god, I can hear the music already. Terrible choice. Awful music. Let's go back home instead."

You couldn't hear what he could but you tried to protest, "No, we came all this way. Your antisocial behavior and disagreement on music choice is not an excuse to miss out on our friend's party."

You felt him tighten his grip around your legs and could see the glint of a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Who's riding who?" He asked.

"What are you talking ab-"

Before you could finish the question, he spun around and started a swift walk back in the direction you came.

"Peter!" You gasped.

"This horse says that it's time to go home. You have to be better at controlling your animals if you want them to listen to you!" He quickened his step. "Hold on tight."

He didn't have to tell you twice for you to know what was about to happen. You tightened your arms around his neck and braced yourself for the inevitable jerk as he shot the two of you up into the air. Taking the time to get dressed up, just to skip out on your friend's party right as you arrived, wasn't the sort of disappointment you would have felt a few years ago. Instead, you were relieved as the wind tossed back your hair and you clung to your boyfriend's back. Even hurdling 50 feet above the ground, you felt safe tucked against him. If Peter didn't feel comfortable being somewhere, he would simply just not go. It was a quality you had learned to admire about him even if it often led to moments like this.

"Promise me that the music was actually insufferable and that we would have had a terrible time," you shouted over the wind whistling in your ear.

He nodded, calling back, "They were playing Cotton Eyed Joe, babe. I promise you, this is for our own sanity. I'm saving you from a night of pain."

"Ew," you grumbled. "Fine but at least swing us to the nice Mexican restaurant instead. We look cute. Let's not waste it. Might as well make use of our night."

"One sexy, hot date night, coming right up!"

[kolcheksluver]

MARLIENE BARRETT , the daughter — all the poison, i convert it and i turn it to love here comes the FEMININE URGE, i know it so well to nurture the wounds my mother held — abigail original character. 8teen. College student. Queer. She/Her. Cis. Female. Libra. ISFP. Atheist. Chaotic Neutral. Alive. Daughter of Adam Barrett; very, very, very poor relationship. Visualized as SOPHIE THATCHER.

Most people are happy to hear they’re like a parent, whether it be a mom or a dad, but whenever Marliene hears the words you’re just like your father, it enrages her to a point she didn’t know she could reach. It was the lowest someone could go when it came to insults to her.

She hates it because it’s true.

It wasn’t always like that, though. She used to adore her dad. When people told her they were similar, she felt accomplished. More than anything, she wanted to be like him. Marliene and her dad were close, so very close. He was her hero, as a parent should be. She adored her mom just as much, though. He was a good dad, until he wasn’t.

He thought she didn’t notice him getting home later and later, but she did. She was observant. More than Adam would care to admit. He’d often walk in the door and find her sitting in the hallway of the apartment, or come into her room and see her sitting at the windowsill of her room waiting. Watching. A Scorpions CD that was actually his that she stole playing from a CD player he had gifted her. Rock You Like a Hurricane was always her favorite song he played in the car. He would not raise a pop music listener.

He would ask her what she was doing up and the answer was always the same; “Waiting for you.”

All this to say, Marliene was the last person to see him before he left her life for good. She remembered it like it was yesterday. Three - Thirty in the morning, she was thirteen. It was a Saturday, technically Sunday, and she couldn’t sleep and was reading a book she would hold very near and dear to her heart. J.D Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, a controversial classic that she had read many times even at her young age. She had a few classics scattered about her room. Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath and Of Mice and Men, though she found that one to be a bit boring.

She heard him shuffling about their small apartment and walked out just as he reached for the doorknob. She asked him where he was going. She’s pretty sure she scared him, because he jumped a bit and looked at her with a wide eyed expression. Marliene noted that Adam looked nervous. On edge. He told her that daddy had to go away but he’d be back soon, despite her having referred to him as dad for a few years by this point. He ushered her to go back to bed as he left.

Marliene watched his car drive off into the night of Queens, New York from her Windowsill and that was the last anyone would ever refer to her as Marley again.

From the ages fourteen - eighteen she experienced multiple stages of grief and depression but one that always lingered was anger. She was so angry, all the time. At him. At herself. The world, anything she could be angry about. Marliene didn’t speak from thirteen to fifteen. She waited at her window consistently every night for those three years until she accepted the fact that he was gone. And he wasn’t coming back. And instead of coping with it, Marliene had decided to simply tell people he was dead when they asked. It made them uncomfortable and they never asked again. And to be fair, he was dead to her, so it wasn’t exactly a lie.

Art had been a big thing for Marley. She was quite good at it the older she got. Even painting on her walls sometimes. She went through all the different drawings she did over the years and scribbled out any that had Adam in them, put all the pictures of her and him away in storage boxes that were excessively sealed with a big DO NOT UNDER ANY FUCKING CIRCUMSTANCES OPEN written on it. Despite her tendency to skip she was a good student and was in multiple Honors and AP classes. She was eligible to graduate early and thats what she did.

She picked a school all the way out the way, far from home. Got a two jobs, one in retail and one in a bar, to pay for tuition. She was kicking herself for not seeing if she was eligible for scholarships. When she working her job at the bar a day or two prior to the job is when she would come face to face with her dad again. It was unmistakably him. And she knew he recognized her too. She promptly went into the back and had a panic attack, practically begging her co worker to take the table once she calmed down enough.

Later in her dorm she got a call from an unknown number. Though her gut feeling told her to answer, and she did. It was her dad — how the fuck did he get her number?

Words were said. Most were profanities. They couldn’t properly have a conversation in this state. They tried, but they were far too similar it was like Adam was arguing with himself that he just got annoyed. Eventually she told him to lose her number and to not contact her again, and hung up.

Marliene thought on it for a few days and decided to call him again, to apologize. When she called, that happened to be just as he was being tag teamed by Joey and a 12 year old so naturally, voice mail. She admittedly wasn’t the most sober, but nonetheless she left one.

“Hi Adam. I know you’re probably busy so like, I don’t know if you’ll get this but, uh, I’m sorry for how our last phone call ended. I was just … so angry. I’m not the most sober right now, but if I’m anything like you which … is all I’ve ever been told my entire life, that’s probably the only way I can say I’m sorry. Just. I don’t know. Call me back. Bye dad.”

[starfilled-galaxy]

Sending the actual thing so you don't have to fuckin cross check what emoji is what ask /lh

🎼 Your favorite music to draw to right now?

✨ How often do you draw?

🙊 Share your latest silly doodle with no context

 ✏️ Do you prefer traditional art or digital to relax?   

 🖍️ When did you start drawing? Do you remember?  

🙌 Draw a doodle with your non-dominant hand

🌗 Is night or day better for drawing?

(Im just rlly curious about your art I'm so sorry)

@o-m-o-r

hehe dont say sorry :D

also thankies i should prolly start doing that too when i send ppl asks lmao

🎼 uhhhhhhh anything not distracting. I rlly just put my liked music playlist on shuffle and skip all the songs that make me jam a lil too hard lmao

✨ its so so so very inconsistent i. cant rlly answer

🙊 [Share your latest silly doodle with no context]

 ✏️ Digital!! cuz I suck a traditional

 🖍️ When I was 9? I think?

🙌 [Draw a doodle with your non-dominant hand]

🌗 I havent gotten a chance to draw at night recently but I remember I use to enjoy it more than day!!!!!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: told myself to slow down, didn’t.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You finish your cocktail before you go into the concert hall. Roxie grabs a third and you pass, not wanting to run back and forth to the bathroom. Besides, you don’t really like the way the vodka stirs in your stomach and little behind your eyes.

The band is decent. You don’t know any of the songs and only vaguely heard of the artist they are a tribute to. Still, you enjoy the live show; you focus on their instruments and how they use them. You always wanted to be musical but never had a sense of tone or melody.

By the end of the set, you’re yawning. Your sister is on her fourth drink and you can’t tell if she’s swaying to the music or if it’s more than that. As the rows empty, you shuffle out with the rest of the concert goers. The bright lights of the casino greet your squint and your ears pulse slightly from the noise of the strumming and crashing show.

“Mm, so, what’d’ya say?” Your sister makes almost every word into one, “how do we spend this?”

She fishes out the chip and you give a sheepish frown. You almost forgot about it. You still think you should turn it in. You don’t feel right spending someone else’s money. You do that often enough, much too old to be living off your mom.

“Don’t be boring,” she warns, “jeez. It’s just cards. Odds are, whoever dropped it, would’ve lost it to the house anyway.”

She claps her hand around your shoulder. You pull back the sleeve of your cardigan to check the time. It’s after ten! You haven’t been out that late since... ever.

“I’m not boring,” you cross your arms and shrug her off. “I just... am different than you.”

“Boring,” she repeats. “You can’t spend all day in your room.”

Yes, you can. And you do.

You don’t argue. When she’s like this, it’s only bound to become a scene. There are too many strangers around for that.

“Black jack,” she declares and spins the coin. It slips from her grasp and falls between her feet. She bends over shamelessly in her dress to pluck it up. “Come on, let’s clean up.”

She struts ahead and you shuffle after her, nervously wringing the strap of your purse. Hopefully she loses it quickly and you can just retreat home in defeat. You catch up to her as she reaches the stairs. She giggles as she leans on the railing and you take her other arm, trying to support her wobbly steps.

“Want another drink?” She asks.

“No, think we’re good.”

“We?” She scoffs, “I’m fine.”

“Please, Rox, let’s just find a table,” you peek around as her voice rises a bit louder than you like.

“Pfft, fine, but if I win, I'm getting a drink.”

You nod. Go along to get along. That’s what your mother always told you when it came to your sister. She’s more like your father than she cares to admit.

You get to a table and she sits easily on the high seat of the tall stool. She lays down the single chip and the dealer offers to break it into smaller ones. She nods and shrugs. You envy how smoothly she just breezes through things.

You stand behind her. You don’t want to take up a seat and the stool is too much of a climb for you. You can see it wobbling as you attempt to hitch yourself up with the crossbar. You’re good, you shouldn’t get comfortable.

You listen to the shuffle of cards as your sister murmurs something you can’t make out. You can only hear the low drone of voices as you stand back. You sidle out of the way as a man claims the empty stool beside your sister. He buys in and another hand is dealt. Hasn’t she lost yet?

The man leans into your sister and you grimace. She turns her head to listen to him and she giggles. Your cheeks blaze hotly and you cross your arms and rock. Neither seem to notice you as they get closer and closer.

As the game progresses, you can only really make out what the dealer says; the different numbers that have grumbles coming from other players. You bring your hand up to pick at the button on your cardigan. The man puts his arm around your sister’s back, his hand on her hip as wiggles in her seat coyly. What about Tom?

You peer around awkwardly. Do you stop her? Remind her of the boyfriend that got her the tickets for tonight? You bounce in your flats and pause as you find someone else staring back at you. Or are they? Just as quickly as your eyes meet, the stranger’s eyes flit away and he’s back to chatting with another man. It’s the very same man who gave you the chip. Maybe her forgot you. That’s not a surprise.

You return your attention to your sister. The man has moved his arm between them and your sister squirms. You watch his elbow as he pulls his hand back. He’s touching her leg. She’s wiggling and suddenly, she shoves him away and screeches.

“EH! I got a boyfriend, perv! I said stop.”

Her voice carries along the high ceilings and you cringe. You back up, cowering away as she stands and the stool teeters dangerously. She fists her hand and you think for a moment she might just hit the guy. He scoffs and turns in his seat.

“Babe, just wanted to buy you a drink.”

“Whatever. You fucking creep!” She hollers.

“Ma’am,” the dealer calls from the table, “is there a problem?”

“Y-yeah,” she hiccups, “this dude had his hand up my skirt.”

“She’s drunk,” the man shakes his head, “listen to her.”

“I’m--” your sister’s denial catches in her throat, “doesn’t mean he can just touch me.”

“Ma’am, if you’re drunk, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m fine. I'm not that...” She slides off the stool and stands, grabbing the chips in front of her seat and tossing them across the table. “You’re all a bunch of crooks.”

Her ankles tangle as she spins and she barely gets her balance before she storms away. Her strides are uneven as she bobbles drunkenly. You watch after her with wide eyes before you follow. She leads you into the bathrooms as she growls and grumbles. She slams into a stall and you stand outside.

You wait until she comes out. She’s quieter and her eyes are hazy. She washes her hands and applies a new coat of lip gloss.

“What a bust,” she pouts and rolls her eyes, “one more drink and we’ll go.”

“Maybe we should just leave now.”

“That guy was such a pervert,” she sneers at you, “you saw where his hand was.”

You nod, “yeah, I did...”

“So, you know I wasn’t being dramatic.”

“Yeah, but... everyone heard.”

“Oh fuck off,” she pushes your shoulder and stomps past you.

You feel bad. It’s not that she shouldn’t defend herself. You admire that she can, but she didn’t need to be so obnoxious. You trail after her into the casino. She heads directly for the bar. You hang your head and wait behind her. This time, she doesn’t offer you a drink. She’s mad at you now so it’s the silent treatment.

“Honey,” another man approaches, “how about I get that for you?”

“Huh?” She babbles, “oh, sure, baby, that’s sweet.”

The man offers his card to the bartender and orders a highball. He leans his arm on the tall bar top as he faces your sister. She bats her lashes at him and giggles as she pulls her drink closer.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?” He asks.

You blink. It’s like you’re not even there. You watch awkwardly, wishing the floor would swallow you up. Instead, you find an empty stool one seat away.

“Roxie,” she answers as you struggle up onto the seat. “And you, handsome?”

“Sam,” he returns, “what’re you drinking then?”

You notice him touch her glass along the brim but can’t see much else around your sister. She replies and his own drink is served. You shrink down and sigh. She’ll get her free drink and then you can just leave. You hope. You hold your chin as you dread another scene.

“Can I get ya something?” The bartender approaches.

“Er, water, please,” you choke out. He seems disappointed but gets you a glass.

You try not to overhear your sister and that man. It’s awkward and you hate this. It’s not the first time she’s done it either. The few times she’s brought you along, you’ve somehow become a third wheel. It reminds you of when you were kids and your mom forced her to take you with her somewhere. She doesn’t actually want you around, she’s genetically obligated.

“Woah, baby, you okay?” The man raises his voice and your sister’s body slumps. Shoot. No.

You barely get off the stool as the man clings to her drooping body. She giggles wildly as you tweak your ankle and rush over. That man, Sam he called himself, seems somewhat calm given the situation.

“Slow down, babe,” he chortles, “Jesus.”

She’s drunk. You knew she shouldn’t have had another drink. Your eyes meet Sam’s and he squints.

“You know her?”

“My sister,” you murmur.

“Oh, right, well...” he clears his throat and looks around, “you can take care of her then.”

“Wait--” you barely keep her up as she leans on you as she’s almost sideways on the stool.

He’s just leaving you? What the heck? You guess if he can’t get anything out of her, she isn’t worth the effort.

You sniff and struggle to slide your sister down to her feet. She’s heavier than you expect and her height makes her difficult to balance. You glance over as the bartender nears.

“Everything okay?” He asks sternly.

“We’re leaving,” you assure him, “sorry.”

“Five minutes,” he taps his watch face, “or I call security.”

You nod and move your arm around your sister’s back, “please, Rox, gotta work with me.”

She laughs again, “hey, where’d that cute guy go?”

“Please,” you beg again, “don’t...”

“Oh, hi,” she touches your faces and squeezes your cheeks, “baby sister.”

You hate when she’s like this. She’s always been a drinker, ever since high school when her friends would sneak out bottle from their parents’ stash. What was once an act of rebellion as a teen is now concerning as an adult.

“Excuse me, everything okay?” The timbre makes your heart drop and you nearly let go of Roxie as she leans in the other direction.

You look up. Oh god. It’s him. That dark-haired man in his expensive suit.

“I’m just... we’re on our way out--”

“She alright?” He points at your sister.

“Tipsy,” you utter.

“I see,” he pushes his hair back as it slips forward, “can I help?”

“Uh, you don’t--”

Before you can answer, he has your sister’s other arm. He almost lifts her entire weight off of you as he supports her against his shoulder. Your entire body is emblazoned in humiliation. You refuse to look above the floor as you’re certain you must have an audience.

You get your sister across the floor and into a hallway. There's an exit sign ahead but you're all turned around. The man stops you and Roxie.

"Where'd you park?" He asks, "this leads to Lot 5."

"Oh, uh..." you blanch. You hadn't thought of any of that. You slouch under Roxie's weight and try to see around her. "I'm not sure but... I don't drive. She was supposed to."

"Ah," he clucks, "and now she can't."

"Right," you agree glumly, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Why?" He asks.

"I didn't think... I let her--"

"Did you let her drink or did she make that choice knowing she was supposed to get behind a wheel?" He challenges.

"I guess... yeah. Sorry."

"Really, doll, no need to keep going on like that," he dismisses, "well, it's late and I can't in good conscience let you wander out with her like this. Especially if you don't have a way home."

"I could..." you begin. A taxi? You'd have to ask your mom to pay the driver when you get home. "Why would you... care?"

"Well, as the owner of this establishment, it won't look good on me if two pretty girls left and went missing," he chuckles then stops himself, "sorry, that's not funny. I just... we overserved your sister obviously so it's on us."

"Owner?" You gulp. You didn't think this could be any more humiliating.

"Bucky," he reaches around you sister.

You hesitate. You can't shake his hand properly as yours is around your sister so you just sorta grab his hand briefly and squeeze two fingers, retracting with another raze of embarrasment. You barely squeak out your name.

He repeats your name before he continues, "I'll get you two a room so she can sober up."

"What? No. That's... too much."

"It's late," he insists, "here," he pulls Roxie away from you as her head lolls and she snorts. He lifts her against his chest, carrying her easily. "I know a back way, just follow my lead, doll."

"Ummmmm," you drone and he waltzes back the way he came, hardly detered by the drunken body in his arms. You can only kick yourself and scramble after him. This night could not have ended any worse. Well, you guess it could if it went the way he suggested.

[divinationrose]

Tarot reading 💞

With Tarot cards you have to learn the meanings of 78 cards and every one of their reverse meanings too and each card has different meanings for a person, situation, love life etc.

They don't have the meanings wrote on them haha.

Even so I also can't just state the meaning I also rely on clairaudience, claircognizance and clairsentience.

Your also learning the minor and major arcana, different tarot spread layouts, then your also having to tap into your intuition for guidance and in my case visions, clairaudience and having to interpret them. I also dont just pick any card like some tarot readers do.

I literally shuffle until the card jumps out of the deck, my deck gets super lively I also only read one card that jumps out 98% of the time if more than one does, personally I feel the cards that jump out the one at the top needs to be read most, if my intuiton feels I should read the others I will, this is me personally.

I also cleanse the cards before each read and put on meditation/spiritual/music so I can concentrate and relax. I also reach out to my spirit guides for clarity. I'm new to having visions and doing tarot so currently I'm trying to decipher what is fact and what needs to be interpreted. It's a lot more difficult than you can imagine aha 😂😅

After reading I can feel extremely lethargic and drained. Often my hands burn too. I've also noticed if I have a picture of the person I'm reading for it's a tad more accurate in regards to the visions I see, maybe that will change the more I develop my abilities I don't know and it helps if I'm in a darkish room.

So anyways even though I have had these abilities all my life it's only extremely recently that I'm embracing/learning more about them and developing them and being open to this side of me instead of feeling shame.

Honestly I have had that much growth mentally that I feel it's the right time. So in sense I feel completely new to it all. I only want to help people, and if I can give people clarity on things then all the better haha 😊💞

[wen-kexing-apologist]

On Repeat Spotify Playlist Tag Game

I was tagged by @waitmyturtles. The name of the game is to put your On Repeat playlist on Spotify on shuffle and listen to the first 10 songs. Mine were:

Chaconne in sol maggoire: variazione 9, Lazar Berman

Which is funny cause I am not sure I’ve ever actually heard this one. It’s fully a left over from when I used Spotify for piano and or cello music to help me fall asleep at night

2. Gut Punch//Don’t Meet Your Idols by Everybody’s Worried About Owen

This song fucking slaps. I am obsessed with it, and we can just pretend like I didn’t listen to this on extensive repeat before I got on depression meds…haha, oops.

3. Dead Mom from Beetlejuice the Musical sung by Anne Caruso

Is my Mom dead? No, thankfully. Does screaming the line “a no one sees me” at the top of my lungs in the car help me when I’m in a mood? You fucking bet it does.

4. Nocturnes, Op. 9: No. 2 in B Flat, Emma Czaplica

It is at this point I debate cheating on this game and skipping the classical songs cause they are my falling asleep music. But maybe this makes me seem more cultured than I am so 🤷🏻

5. I Deserve to Bleed by Sushi Soucy

I’m a very happy go lucky person. Pay no attention to the mental illness songs behind the curtain.

6. I Really F**ked It Up by girli

7. I’m Not Boring, You’re Just Bored by The Tilly Birds

Do I understand the lyrics? No! Does that matter? No! This song is GREAT and I love it

8. Bad Guy Necessity by Little Negrito

A friend of mine made a Vegas Theerapanyakul playlist and I put this song on it, it gets stuck in my head quite often. It’s very good and I feel like very in character for that fucked up character whom I love dearly.

9. Pacific by Chase Petra

Alright maybe I should start cheating on this game…I’m sorry that angsty songs are good, okay?! I have no excuse.

10. The Red Means I Love You by Mads Buckley

Another one from the Vegas playlist. Mads Buckley also sings Brother which I absolutely love even if it’s about an anime character I don’t know from a show I’ve literally never seen.

tagging @twig-tea, @respectthepetty, and @ranchthoughts

[mermaidsirennikita]

Even though I was used to the melodramatic soap opera that is the Marguerite show my jaw dropped when they showed billy fully drinking in the finale lmao they truly missed the mark on almost every aspect of the book it’s almost impressive

I was... blown away by how rough those final episodes were. Biggest complaints, though I have many:

--The way Camila was just shuffled out of importance in the narrative is... staggering. And sad. This really was just Daisy and Billy Fanservice: The Show. Camila dies two decades earlier than she should, she has two fewer kids than she should, she's treated worse by Daisy and Billy yet tells them to get together, basically, and she loses one of her most powerful moments in the book. The moment where SHE tells Daisy that Billy is in love with her, and it doesn't matter, because nothing will tear Billy and Camila apart. Her ownership of that moment is given to Daisy, a woman who has been a piece of shit to her through the entire show, despite the fact that Camila has been nothing but kind and gracious to her. She's given one moment to tell Daisy what's up, and even that is muted (though I liked how Camila Morrone played it; she's one of the cast standouts for me).

The thing is that if you read interviews, they say they made these changes to give Daisy power, as if they're striking out on this feminist creed lmao, but in doing so they deprive Camila of all the power and agency she had in the book. And Daisy has power. She's single, she's independently wealthy, she's successful, she's adored, she's talented. Her biggest enemy is herself. Camila's power is meant to be this internal strength--despite on the surface seeming like a stereotypical housewife financially dependent on her man, she's got a willpower and a determination to not give up control of her life, and to not let Daisy and Billy and their bullshit wreck the life she wants. They absolutely took that away from her. I fucking hate it.

--By girlbossifying Daisy you basically undermine exactly how much of a mess she was. The show already portrays addiction in an extremely fluffy way. It's so dumb lmao. Have Riley Keough hop around in circles a lot, that is THE FACE OF ADDICTION. Have Sam Claflin be basically obnoxious, that is WHAT ADDICTION LOOKS LIKE. Give me a break. The fact that Daisy had to be shaken into recognizing how bad shit got by other people was... honestly? Kinda real in the book. Like, yeah, she made her final decision to leave, and that was the first step of her claiming power. But she basically had to be slapped into reality by Camila because she was unable to see clearly through this cloud of drugs, and also frankly a life in which, though she worked hard, she did often stumble into success and was born into money.

--Billy falling off the wagon... and not because Teddy died? Lmao? Was HILARIOUS. In the book Teddy dies and Billy I think like, sips a drink; he almost totally relapses, and then he doesn't, and it's very intense. Here, for some reason Teddy lives... The tension of which they totally undermined by showing that he was alive in the 80s, by the way, great writing choice there... and Billy falls off the wagon because his baby, who he previously seemed to give zero fucks about, left his ass. And then we see Sam Claflin give a truly... interesting... off the wagon performance. I say this as someone who thinks Sam CAN act--if I wanted to see a man demonstrate "I'm off the wagon and you can tell because I'm doing crazy eyes on stage", I would've watched Walk The Line.

Fuck, if I wanted to watch "two performers make eyes at each other while the wife glares in the audience", I would've watched Walk the Line. I have issues with Walk The Line, but for real, JUST WATCH WALK THE LINE. The music is much better and it won Reese Witherspoon an Oscar. (REESE. GIRL. WHAT EVEN WAS THIS SHOW. PUT THE NFTS DOWN SLOWLY.) Reese going "YOU CAN'T WALK NO DAMN LINE" in Walk The Line was 10000% more subtle and engaging than anything this show gave me, ever.

--Warren remains great. The standout of this show.

--Karen being all sads face about Graham I... Lol, the point in the book is that Karen looked back on that shit with some fond wistfulness but lived a banger of a life because she ultimately loved herself and her career more than she loved Graham, and she was mature enough to realize that and to realize that she and Graham could not POSSIBLY make each other happy. I just wish we could have a story about a woman who had an abortion and went "no regrets". Camila supporting her was lovely, but that was a blink and you miss it abortion story in a time where we need good abortion stories onscreen.

Maybe they would've had more time for it if we hadn't had as many shots of Daisy hopping around like an energizer bunny. DON'T DO DRUGS KIDS, YOU BECOME A POGO STICK.

"Let's be broken together" and then she realizes it's a bad relationship so she sloughs him back to his wife. Lol I can't.