#psychedelic hair is crazy!

[occamstfs]

Man Of Your Dreams

Wallflower Dylan is gifted a new psychedelic from his friend. Used to watching frat bros from afar he finds the pill seems to affect far more than his mind.

Intended this to be plot light but so it goes! Probably going to take this week off to avail myself to other authors entering my Viral Transformation Challenge! The next story will likely be my own take on the theme so look forward to that next week alongside those from a litany of other stellar TF writers! Until then! -Occam

Dylan was fairly straight-laced, going into his senior year of university he hadn’t strayed much at all from class besides tagging along with his friend from high school to some of the more boisterous frat parties. Said friend Tony was quite more of a wild child, often invited himself because he was the source of some of the more illicit substances to be found at these parties. He’d invite Dylan whenever he’d need a more sober pair of eyes, namely if he was planning on rolling or otherwise getting high on his own supply. Despite his mild manner, Dylan always hopped on the chance, going to ragers was supposed to be part of the whole college deal right? And besides, he didn’t mind the chance to ogle brazen men he would under normal circumstances be fearful of making eye contact with.

Knowing of his friend’s meek disposition, and repressed hunger for the most vulgar of men, when Tony hears of a crazy new psychedelic on the market he has a feeling Dylan might finally let his hair loose. Reviews say the stuff makes reality feel like a waking dream. Anything seems possible and to your body it might as well be. Steamier sources swear that dreaming about sex on the stuff is even better than the real thing. Tony, never concerned about side effects of his material, gets straight to hitting up the usual channels to see what he can get and is able to scrounge up a single pill of the stuff. He wonders if he should try it out himself first before deciding he owes his friend at least first dibs.

Dylan is floored at how quickly he agreed to taking the pill. After initially being standoffish at Tony’s suggestion that he use it to fuck frat bros in his mind, once his friend started explaining what he’s heard Dylan couldn’t pass up the opportunity to really live out his fantasy. He’s not going to outgrow being a wallflower, nor is at all confident that any of the performatively masculine men would fuck him. Staring at the pill the only thing holding him back is Tony’s vapid instructions. ‘Just have a blast dude, fuck your way through those bros hah!’ Dylan’s asking about the side effects falls on deaf ears as Tony just crassly humps the air to try to convince his friend to go out on a limb. Despite his qualms and fears, and the lack of confidence inspired by Tony’s actions, Dylan feels sure that his friend wouldn’t give him something actually potentially dangerous.

Holding tight to that misplaced confidence, as soon as Tony departs Dylan pours himself a glass of water and chokes the pill down. The small tablet leaves a metallic taste in his mouth, quickly hidden by the copious amount of saliva and bile starting to rise in the back of his throat as he immediately feels the urge to vomit. Man of will despite appearances, he keeps it down and just as soon scowls as he thinks about the lack of preparation offered by his friend and prepares to tear into Tony as soon as the trip is over. Standing up he feels the room spinning around and murmurs in shock, “su- surely it’s shouldn- work this… fas-” He stumbles over to his bed and falls face down as he feels his body growing sweaty.

Before his well-practiced anxiety response can rise his mind is flooded with every pleasant hormone it’s able to produce. Every muscle in his body tenses and he feels his cock struggle to force itself erect in the awkward position he’s fallen in. Dylan moans as every sensation sends signals so intense and potent that his mind can barely maintain consciousness. Indeed he finds himself struggling to even hold his eyes open as his eyelids grow weighty. Even perfunctory bodily functions feel erotic as he begins to fade, the burning of cold air in his stretching lungs, the sound of his own heartbeat and the warmth of blood coursing through his veins. Drool immediately pools under his head as he crests into a stuporous induced unconsciousness, far too unprepared for what awaits him in his trip, and the new world he is to encounter afterwards.

Dylan is sitting in a chair across from a man he knows too well and not at all. Face to face with Ben Harrington, president of Beta Delta Alpha, Dylan has to push down the immediate rush of fear. Taking a breath he reminds himself that this is a dream, one that Tony swears he should have pretty lucid control over. As the president stands opposed, leaning on nothing he flexes his arms and the pastel button up Dylan usually sees him clad in changes into a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. He smirks as he pushes sunglasses up his face and speaks in a tone intoxicated, under the influence of nothing but Dylan himself. His raspy voice sends a shiver down the meek man’s spine as he feels himself unable to retreat, “So, uhh, Dylan is it?” 

Approaching enough to touch him, Ben puts an arm over Dylan’s shoulder, exposing his clearly unwashed pit. Dylan takes a deep breath and forces his eyes closed from the burning over-stimulation of this man baring down on him. Still, from the sticky breath blowing across the face it's clear he is continuing to inch even closer, “You want me do you?” Dylan gulps as the man gets even closer, Ben’s lips almost touching his own, “Or do you just want to be me?” This takes Dylan out of it as he steps back away from the imposing man. Eyes opening he tries to manipulate the scene as Tony implied he should be able to. The Ben of his mind tilts his head and tsks, “‘Fraid you’re not the one in charge here after all.”

Ben closes the gap once more and throws his arm around the easily manhandled Dylan pulling his body against his own sweat stained form. He smirks and leans in directly to whisper something into the dreamer’s ear, “and if you do really wanna fuck me, well. You’re gonna have to become something more my type. Yeah?” Dylan blinks in surprise, he’s heard of bad trips and the like but something seems decidedly wrong here. Before he’s able to come to any cogent conclusion the dream Ben reaches down his free hand into Dylan’s pants. His sweaty hand instantly wraps around the smaller man’s balls and squeeze. Dylan hasn’t a chance to scream in shock he feels himself lose control. Of his body, his mind, and the world around him as he begins to fall back.

He’s humping the air as he’s falling into an abyss. He doesn’t feel the fear that this descent should evoke. Usually nightmares that turn this way immediately blast him back to consciousness, instead it fills him with adrenaline that only heightens the delight coursing out from his cock. Sure that he’s now laying face down in a pool of his own semen in the real world, Dylan does what he can to focus on the pleasure as intended. 

The sound of wind tearing past him makes him unable to hear his moaning screams as his clothes are shredded by the searing gale. Rapt in delight, the blaring gusts begin to slow. Air caresses him like a full body hug and suddenly he is deposited onto soft ground. Dylan doesn’t quite repose as his body continues convulsing. Cum begins to sprinkle down on him from the plethora of loads released during his descent and he finally finds wherewithal to paw at his crotch. Grasping at his balls he finds them unmistakably larger, “Wha?” No longer falling, Dylan opens his eyes and seems to be back in reality.

Dylan awakens and blearily rubs his eyes with clearly semen stained hands. “Oh what the, ugh- Am I awake?” His eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the lighting of a room that is decidedly not his bedroom. “Can’t be right?” Shaking the mess off his hands without a second thought he stands to his feet with a grunt and feels his cock bobbing, still impossibly rigid. His hands return to this turgid beacon before they almost happenstance fondle his balls. His sluggish mind struggles with how heavy and large they feel, nothing like the ones he has in reality. He smirks as the last words of Ben snake through his mind- “Become something more my type.” Who’d’ve thunk the president was into horndogs.”

Sniffing the air he begins to inspect the room surrounding him. Dirty clothes litter the floor and he finds a pervasive musk filling the air. Something in the back of his mind itches that there should be a can of axe around somewhere to cover it up, which he ignores for a number of reasons. He should be able to will the room to stop stinking. He certainly wouldn't do so with cheap body spray, and for the life of him he can’t bring himself to want to. Each deep breath of the stink he finds himself growing even hornier. Dylan feels his balls churning as he grasps them, he’s already cum a good number of times and yet he still craves release. 

He imagines the firm ass of a frat brother and leans against his dresser he uncontrollably begins to hump once more. Something flickers at the back of his mind yet again and he rips into an open drawer. Throwing clothes onto the pile of dirtied garments already littering the floor, Dylan removes a fleshlight which he proceeds to make exuberant use of. No time for his mind to question why he’s suddenly a top as his cock fills the sex toy more with every grunting thrust. 

Pubes scratch against his thumb as his crotch shifts into one that would instantly render a razor unusable. Likewise hair that has never even had to be controlled on his ass begins to thicken, growing itchy as a true jungle of curls begins to flourish on both sides of his waist. Soon enough his cock grows large enough that the toy is rendered unusable, with a furrowed brow and ungrateful grunt he tosses it to his room leaving it dripping on the floor as he somehow remains just as sexually unfulfilled as when he began, “Fuck I need the real thing…”

The real thing not present Dylan looks down at his cock and gasps as he sees what has become of his package. He doesn’t have a ton of sex but he usually keeps it clean and pretty hairless down there just for his own sake. Beyond the forest of pubes thick enough to get his hand stuck in, he covers his mouth in shock as he sees a veiny cock larger than he’s ever seen on a man with the low hanging massive balls to match. He does his best to focus up on anything besides how horny he is, but as pre continues to trickle from his hardened cock that becomes increasingly difficult. He bites his lip and looks past his throbbing cock at the floor. If he puts it away perhaps it’ll quiet of its own accord.

Dylan doesn’t pay heed to which clothes are clean or dirty as he throws on whatever best could hide his cock from his hands and mind. Nor could he notice just how far cleanliness and decency have fallen as priorities for him as he struggles to fit his package in clearly stained sweatpants. Itching at his waist as his pubes begin creeping up into a treasure trail racing to mee the spreading curls beginning to decorate his chest, his dull awareness finally notices that his whole body has begun changing. His thin arms have clearly put on powerful muscle from his mindless sessions of self-love, veins trailing down them make it difficult for him not to get straight back to masturbating at the thought of his own strength.

Similarly his eyes latch onto a chest that has somehow exploded into pecs without his knowing. Muscle that has never begun to grace his body now jiggles with every movement. He clenches his jaw hard trying to muster willpower not to give into his most basal urges, but as he feels his thighs fill the sweatpants he just threw on he wonders how long he could possibly hold out. His cluttered mind struggles to recall that he is on some kind of psychedelic trip as he fails to remember how long Tony said it would last. Instead swimming through dulling memories the voice of his, er, the frat president speaks up. “Ah god… You’re looking fucking good Big D. How’s your mind hangin’ in there?”

It takes a few moments for the words to sink in before Dylan can reply, “My, unh- mind?” His balls pulse as his eyes dash across the room while he struggles to think. God he’s been struggling to think this whole time. His cock lurches as he’s able to realize that every thought in his mind has been growing increasingly clouded. “Big D?” Dylan can’t help but smirk as his beyond impressive cock strains his sweatpants at being called Big D. He grunts as he tries to shake off the lusty delirium, “Need to chill out. Ugh. Sober up.” He hears the president tsk at him yet again, waiting with bated breath for the mans words his pecs bulge even larger on his chest. “Too late for that bro, just give in. Why have a trip into true unadulterated ecstasy when you can have a lifetime. You can finally be the man of your dreams.” 

As soon as the words of Ben, his president, are spoken in his mind it becomes clear that Big D doesn’t even have the ability to fight back against the ever-present urges that now control his body. He tears off the sweatpants that were barely holding in there as he fully give himself to whatever is calling out for him, the drug, Ben Harrington, whatever. His body bulks beyond measure to become man enough to carry the vulgar package that lies in his crotch. He masturbates into the leg of his sweatpants torn asunder as his torso bulks up, evidence of his endless celebrations as a man of Beta Delta Alpha.

Bestial body hair begins to cover his torso as his beard grows thick and dark. The tangle of hair in his pits thickens and spreads enough that it, nor it’s dominating musk, could ever be hidden. Muscle bulges on his arms large enough to haul kegs and toss out fuckers that get to rowdy at their festivities. Beyond apathetic to manicuring his appearance as he knows he’ll have people lining up at his doorstep regardless of needless things like hygiene or cleanliness he rubs his thick sweat covered thighs and feels how sensitive every inch of his skin has become. 

He smirks as he imagines, recalls rather, how constantly he gets to enjoy the sensual opportunities offered by his new form. He’s got all he needs dangling between his thick thighs and everyone who matters already knows it. The president certainly does. Big D smirks as he thinks of their vacations together on the frat’s dime. He puts his arms behind his head and sniffs his musky pits as he lays in repose, a thick cloud of musky sweat surrounds him as he begins to hear the sound of festivities breaking out on the floor below him and someone’s fervent footsteps racing up the stairs to his den.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and Big D imagines that some couple is looking for an empty room with urgency. He paws at his crotch excited to join in on their fun. Instead he sees some nervous looking guy who freezes as soon as he sees the behemoth, fear in his eyes. “D-Dylan!? I- That drug, there was something, something s-” He stutters and his hands shake as Big D rolls his eyes and stands almost two heads taller than he should over Tony, one of their frat’s little party drug dealers. Still, he wouldn’t have come up here for no reason. Big D silences him with a finger and slams the door shut behind him. Tony’s brow furrows as he looks around the room in confusion. Even his perpetually drug-addled mind can tell something unreal, something impossible has happened to his friend. “That pill can’t have done this right?” Tony takes nervous breaths and Big D’s musk rapidly fills his lungs, distracting him from whatever petty issue brought him in. Who cares about concern when his small cock is beginning to rise from simply standing near the priapic titan.

Big D’s voice rumbles through Tony, making him weak at the knees, “You wanna have some fun don’t you?” The drug dealer can’t help but nod and swallow the drool pooling in his mouth as the bestial Adonis stands over him, cock dripping ever-ready for another round. Tony isn’t sure if he’s started tripping himself or what, but as he begins making out with the frat bro he finds himself not minding as memories of whoever Dylan was disappear. After all pleasure is the most important thing, and no one is better at spreading heady delight than Big D.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 67

part 1 | part 66 | ao3

cw: recreational drug use

Waiting around to die or get arrested or whatever fucking sucks. Partly because there’s no running water (Steve’s never wanted to take a stress shower so badly in his life) and partly because Eddie won’t let him stay sober. Has it in his head that altering Steve’s mental state will keep Vecna away, like hanging a mosquito net over the opening of a tent.

It’s not not working, he guesses.

He hasn’t fallen in to any more hallucinated open graves, at least.

He comes down the stairs a little before noon, towel-drying his hair after a bottled water sink bath, and finds Eddie in the kitchen: Reeboks on, hair a cotton candy mess, head-to-toe teddy bear tie-dye under his leather jacket — a matching shirt and sweats that he fished out of Rick’s dresser. He’s stirring Spaghettios in a small pot at the stove, and when he sees Steve come in he turns to offer some, the wooden spoon held out with a sort of desperate perkiness. “Morning! I found food that isn’t expired. You want some?”

Steve shakes his head.

Eddie shovels the whole spoonful into his mouth; wipes sauce off his chin, speaks before he’s finished chewing. “I also found blotters in the freezer and shrooms in the bedroom closet, so uh. Pick your poison.”

Steve picks the shrooms. They wait a few hours to take them because Eddie swears the sunset while you’re tripping is unparalleled, man, although Steve kind of suspects that he’s just giving him time to work up the nerve to eat them. He still gets nervous about chemicals — probably always will, after the shit the Russians did.

In the meantime, Eddie rummages through Rick’s cassette collection, and Steve talks to Robin on the walkie; gets all the new details in staticky half-sentences — something about mind flayers and mental hospitals, what else is new? He tells her to be safe; tells her that he loves her; keeps his eyes trained on the clock.

—

Shrooms smell and taste like ass. Steve can’t stomach them; spits into the grass while Eddie laughs sympathetically and hands him a little square of paper to put on his tongue instead, and they spread out side by side on a few old beach towels by the water and wait for it to kick in.

Nothing, at first, not that Steve expected different. Twenty minutes; forty-five.

“Still nothing?”

“Nothing.”

And then.

Eddie holds up a glossy aquamarine pebble, squinting at its glow in the late afternoon sun. “I should give this rock to Skye. Bet she’d love it.”

“That’s a shard of glass.”

Eddie blinks at it. “Oh, shit.”

Steve snorts, and when he looks at Eddie sideways there’s a glimmer of that same cerulean shade outlining his whole body, a low-frequency feather of energy rolling off of him in waves. Eddie moves his arm and the color chases it, a long-exposure photo of high beams on rain-slick roads.

“Oh,” Steve says, mouth slack. His voices echo in his head; all six of them. “I think I’m…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, eyes alight, pupils blown.

“Yeah.”

All at once something slots into place, attunes itself inside of Steve, and it’s like… he can see Eddie’s mind; touch it, cradle it, reach out to it with its own. It feels crazy. Psychedelics are fucking crazy. He reaches out a hand, slicing through ribbons of shimmering light, tasting the colors as they fade, and Eddie’s emotions spread out in high-definition before him — like the image has always been there but now it’s crystal clear; someone’s shifted his focal point, filled a kiddie pool with Epsom salt and left him there to float.

“I see you,” he says nonsensically.

Eddie frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“…That I can see you?”

“I usually am.”

That’s not right. Eddie’s thoughts shouldn’t sour on his account, shouldn’t sag in the middle like a moldy tangerine. “I can close my eyes?”

“Fuck,” Eddie laughs, thin and strained. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m not allowed to kiss you.”

“You’re not?”

He hesitates. “Am I?” Antsy fingers drum the grass, overgrown with vibrant clover and dandelion stalks. “Just feel like we should talk first, if uh, if it’s safe.”

Steve probes his own mind, tests it for outside threats, but there’s nothing. The acid forms a fractal fortress. Penrose steps, paradoxical and strange. “It’s safe.”

He moves to lie on his side, invites Eddie to do the same. “Talk into the kiss,” he suggests when Eddie joins him — face to face, chest to chest, Steve can see the thrum of Eddie’s heartbeat in the hollow of his throat; wants to press his thumb to it, so he does, the sense memory of ripe cherries bursting on his tongue.

Eddie’s lips against his own; hovering. Static electricity like the scent of summer rain. “I think my pride makes me a coward.”

Steve rubs his dry lips across Eddie’s, chapped skin and shared heat.

“It’s like… I kept trying to tell myself that I was being… I don’t know, valiant, or some shit? Like, ‘oh, he’s so much better without me. I’m the town pariah; I’m keeping him safe by running away.’” He thumps his fist against his heart as if beating a shield to shining armor, and Steve can’t see his eyebrows with their foreheads pressed together, but he can feel Eddie scrunching them into a picture-perfect hero frown. Almost has to laugh — so fucking theatrical even when he’s serious.

“But if I’m honest,” Eddie murmurs, “it wasn’t like that at all. Nothing fucking brave about vanishing on you. Like, what?” His voice shifts again, lilting but critical, a comedian doing crowd work. “I get a liiiittle fucked up by townies two too many times, and I sabotage my whole life over it? Ruin the best thing I’ve ever had over it? As if this goddamn horseshit hasn’t been happening to me since— forever! Shit.” He blows his bangs out of his face; calms himself. Goes a little cross-eyed trying to look Steve in the eye. “I got scared, Steve. There it is. That’s the ugly truth of it.”

He swallows harshly in the dense silence that follows.

Robins chirp; cars pass.

The lake laps at the shore and casts prisms like fishing line, spiderwebs of rainbow light flashing behind Steve’s eyelids. He brings his hands up to Eddie’s face.

“Christ.” Eddie shudders; lets himself become dead weight, rubbing his cheek into the touch, warm stubble scratching over the pads of Steve’s fingers. “Am I making any sense? I feel like I’m not making any sense.”

Yes. No. “You’re making sense. I mean. As much as anything is right now.” The sandy brown freckles on the bridge of Eddie’s nose are swirling like snow flurries. Steve traces them with curious hands. His knuckles blur and swivel, too. “You left because… you wanted to protect me from… yourself?” He sums up, not sure if he’s getting the math right.

“I left because I’m a scared little shit who couldn’t handle getting bullied in a parking lot, but uh. Yeah. I guess I, like, didn’t want to…” His eyes go big and startled, cheeks flooding bright pink. “Oh, shit, I was about to say I didn’t want to curse you, Jesus Christ.”

Steve honks with laughter. Loud and deep and punched out without warning, because the irony of that — that there’s a literal big bad running around cursing people, and the person who was actually doing some real good in his life decided that he was the problem — it’s fucking— hilarious! Hysterical! Steve giggles himself sick, lungs burning as it tapers to a silent wheeze, and Eddie joins him, confusion giving way to compulsion; contagion in the manic giddiness spewing out of Steve.

“You thought—” Steve struggles through hiccups, tears beading in his lash line, “you thought you were the bad luck charm in this relationship?”

“Don’t mock me!” Eddie whines, still laughing. “I already said it was dumb.”

“It’s so dumb.” Eddie may be the cutest, dumbest thing he’s ever seen. He rubs his thumbs over his cheekbones, smile fading. “If anyone’s a curse, it’s me.” Four for four here on getting dragged into supernatural shit. Does Eddie really think homophobes are more dangerous than hell dimensions?

Eddie’s already shaking his head. “You’re a fucking blessing.”

Warmth radiates through Steve, drips from the crown of his head like a downpour of holy water. He feels anointed. Ascended. He feels— “Please tell me we’re allowed to kiss now.”

Their mouths crush together, impossible to tell who moves first, whose tongue is in whose mouth, whose desperate breath Steve swallows as Eddie rolls him onto his back. Hands roam and pull and clutch, molding the shape of him into the earth. Maybe someday, Steve thinks, if aliens invade, they’ll study these imprints like crop circles, trampled declarations of how much Steve loves this boy. “God,” he gasps into the kiss. “Missed you so much.”

“So much.”

“Don’t do that to me again. Don’t go.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. His grip tightens on Steve’s waist. “Never again, baby, I fucking promise. I think I—”

On the far side of the house, leaves crunch and branches snap as a car pulls up the drive. Boots on pavement, rowdy voices; unfamiliar; red alert.

“Spread out, boys!” the voice of Jason Carver bellows. “If that Freak’s in here, we’ll find him.”

—

part 68

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[bizarrelittlemew]

okay. i just watched the movie Snakeskin (2001). i bought a physical dvd in the year of our lord 2024 because Taika has 6.5 minutes of screentime in it. and now i'm sitting here trying to process wtf i just watched asjdhfdjsk so here are the highlights (thank you Meow @blakbonnet for going through this experience with me)

first of all, enjoy these screenshots from the trailer (i'm still not sure if they're mandatory disclaimers?):

...but say yes to snake imagery, because there will be a lot of it

we are definitely in 2001. this is extremely apparent throughout the whole movie. but especially from this girl's hair

Taika's character (Nelson) and his girlfriend (Daisy, pictured above) drive around in a repurposed ice cream truck and sell drugs btw. it's called Mr. Trippy.

main character Alice (Melanie Lynskey) is a huge fan of ✨America✨. her best friend is in love with her but she only wants Bad Boys. also said friend's name is Johnny but it's actually Craig

ALSO Craig-slash-Johnny is played by Dean O'Gorman (Fili)??!?!?!?

their hobby is to drive around picking up hitchhikers but only those who look not boring

enter The American. this guy is the most American you have ever seen. americans wish they could be as American as this guy. no one else has ever Americaned harder.

as you can see, i'm not lying. he even says "howdy ma'am" so we're convinced he is a real American

three skinheads are after The American because he stole their drugs (i think). he also stole drugs from Nelson and Daisy, who now owe money and/or drugs to their boss, who also has beef with The American for reasons i'm still not totally sure of

The American not only steals drugs and money, he also has a real gun(!!!) and fucks pretty much everyone?

"darlin'. u gotta earn the raaaiht. ter wear snakeskins 😎"

oh my god the sunglasses emoji just reminded me of the fucking sunglasses oh no i'm not sure i can do this akjsdhjsk this will make sense later i promise

do not learn gun safety from this movie

at one point, there is a whole lotta sheep. we are, after all, in Aotearoa New Zealand. and ok this had the cutest moment of Taika yelling "SHEEPY" out of a car

there's a scene where uhm. uhhh no not gonna describe this i think but. yeah fair warning this movie has some period-typical homophobia let's just say 💀 this is the live reaction:

MOVING ON

if you enjoy the 2000s aesthetic of "look how edgy we are doing drugs" *colorful-haired people on couches in dark club* *echo-y laugh* *hallucinations* *it's mushrooms look it's mushrooms we're doing psychedelics* then this is the movie for you my friend

oh and Alice also did acid at some point while being very "i've totally done drugs before" about it (((doubt)))

GIRL GET UP FROM THAT DIRTY BATHROOM FLOOR

[New Zealand accent] "wow. six and acid." yes she is living all her american dreams as you can see

by nighttime, all three cars (main characters, mr. trippy, and the nazimobile) and the motorcycle (mr. drug boss) have made it pretty far up the mountain, it seems. cute moment between mr. drug boss and nelson. look how :D he is!

but you know a movie with Taika in it needs to have a father figure talk down to him so he gets very 🥺 right after this

lots of shit goes down (i won't spoil too much if by any chance you still want to watch this) and it turns out that the older skinhead guy is the best actor in the movie??

and NOW things get weird

Craig and The American have so much beef by now that they decide to solve it by russian roulette

Alice's reaction to this is something like "ugh, you guys are crazy, i can't watch this 🙄"

like she just walks away?? GIRL THEY'RE AIMING A REAL GUN AT EACH OTHER

she keeps COMPLETELY UNDERREACTING TO WHAT IS HAPPENING like (spoilers from now on) CRAIG IS SHOT AND KILLED and she doesn't even run over and she doesn't even say anything to The American?? WHO SHOT HIM???? he's just standing there??

and then. AND THEN.

ok this is where i fully lost it for several minutes and missed half the following scene. i was fucking HOWLING like actually crying with laughter, i couldn't see or breathe and my partner got worried ksjdhfdjsk ok so here's what happens

they're in the car. craig is obviously very dead. alice is kinda in denial i guess. The American tells her to shut his eyes and she's like why? BECAUSE HE DEAD GIRL!! but she doesn't, she doesn't shut his eyes, no, this is what she does instead

I COULD BARELY MAKE THIS GIF BECAUSE I KEPT LAUGHING TO THE POINT OF TEARS

NOT THE SUNGLASSES ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. THE UNTAPPED MEME POTENTIAL HERE IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS

ANYWAY shortly after this we hear one of the funniest lines in the movie (and it's not even about the shooting and killing of Craig):

"fuck, Seth! this isn't fucking America, you can't just go around shooting everybody!"

oh yeah The American does have a name and it's Seth

i'll just post a few chat screenshots for the next part because i can't really describe it, i promise we're almost at the end

after some incredible visual effects™️, we end with Return of the Sunglasses (and me scaring my cats away because i was sobbing again)

i haven't even really talked about Taika's scenes much (the reason i watched this in the first place) because the ending took me OUT and honestly he is maybe the most normal person in this whole movie. one review (from the trailer) wrote this:

and yeah that may honestly be the best way to describe it. 10/10 movie watching experience, highly recommend. thank you for coming to my snek talk

[sincerelyamee]

Magic and Moonlight

| Gojo x Reader | Reader's third year & Gender-neutral |

Like any child, you used to dream that one day your ordinary life would transform into something special. That somehow, despite all appearances, you were actually made of magic and moonlight, and you had a grand destiny waiting just out of sight.

When you were younger, you would read fantasy novels under the blankets long after bedtime, picturing yourself as the protagonist who would discover power beyond comprehension. The one who would be whisked away by some powerful being into a secret world of wonders and adventures.

But with adolescence came painful self-awareness - the sinking realization that you were no protagonist. That you were no magical child – Just another awkward teenager struggling to belong. That there was no grand plan, no higher purpose… only this small, ordinary life you had not asked for.

Your days became monotonous cycles of school, books, and enduring your parents’ bitter arguments. Though some small, wilted part of you still pathetically clung to those childhood fantasies for escape, daydreaming about the moment your very own Hagrid would come knocking on your door, declaring yer a wizard.

And so he did, though a little… unconventional.

The psych ward was clearly not expecting visitors that day, unless depressed white walls and itchy hospital socks counted. Yet there you were, sitting across from quite possibly the most wildly out-of-place person you’d ever seen. Silver hair all spiked up like a Dragonball character, a stupid blindfold over his eyes, rocking a suit sharper than the cafeteria knives they didn’t allow patients to touch.

Maybe you should be more concerned that this psychedelic anime daydream man had somehow slipped past the visitors screening, but you were a little too busy wondering if you had accidentally been given hallucinogens instead of your good ole antipsychotics this morning.

“You’re a jujutsu sorcerer,” the flamboyant man repeated, his grin spread so wide it was unsettling. You couldn’t tell if he was another mental patient off his meds, or just really committed to… whatever cosplay therapy routine he was trying here.

Was that supposed to be the line? Shouldn’t it be wizard? The haze of medication made it hard to think straight, so you simply blinked at him slowly.

“Not in the mood for conversation, huh?” The man chuckled, leaning further across the table. “What a shame. I was so curious how you managed to tear apart a second-grade curse with your bare hands. You don’t seem to be any higher than grade 3. Gotta say, your cursed energy reserves are pretty disappointing, too.”

Gojo was rude as fuck even back then. But he came for you when your own family had left you behind. That had to count for something, right? So, you let his questionable social skills slide. You always had.

Read the rest of your batshit crazy life as a Tokyo Jujutsu High Background Student here on AO3

[dinsmechanic]

𝐉.𝐌 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

──.★ mornin' sunshine [ @tightjeansjavi ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 1.5k

⌗ 18+, smut, piv, slow sex, handjob

──.★ rock me to sleep [ @randofantfic ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 1k+

⌗ 18+, cockwarming, piv, size difference, size kink

──.★ blow [ @toxicanonymity ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 2k

⌗ 18+, drugs, grinding, breeding, blow job, piv, creampie

──.★ a day in the filth [ @toxicanonymity ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ brat tamer!joel

⌗ 2.7k

⌗ 18+, smut, legal age gap ( big & girthy ), breeding, piv

──.★ undone [ @sinsofsummers ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ dbf!joel miller, joel's pov

⌗ 2.2k

⌗ no outbreak,

⌗ e-mature, masturbation (m), legal and girthy age gap, slightly pervy joel

──.★ vicious [ @sinsofsummers ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ depraved!joel miller

⌗ dark fic

⌗ 1.1k

⌗ 18+, consensual free use, semi public sex, rough piv, hair pulling

──.★ kiss, kiss, kill, kill! [ @netherfeildren ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ dark, mean, crazy!joel miller

⌗ 9.7k

⌗ no outbreak, graphic descriptions of violence, murder, blood, gore, threat of SA ( i guess its a dark fic )

⌗ 18+, piv, loss of virginity, pussy slapping, spit, breeding

──.★ teach me [ @pascalswift ]

⌗ innocent f!reader

⌗ dbf!joel miller, slightly dark!joel

⌗ 1k+

⌗ alcohol consumption

⌗ e-mature, grinding, dirty talk, fingering, legal age gap

──.★ come clean [ @cupofjoel ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 4.7k

⌗ fluff

⌗ 18+, piv, rough / shower sex, size kink, fingering

──.★ nasty [ @healmydesires ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 4.2k

⌗ slight fluff

⌗ 18+, consented somnophilia, piv, doggy, hairpulling

──.★ feels so right [ @fake-bleach ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 9.9k

⌗ 18+, car sex, thigh riding, piv, spanking, small choking

──.★ youre my sunshine [ @littlelou22 ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ insecure!joel

⌗ 2.5k

──.★ red dress [ @toxicanonymity ]

⌗ pregnant!reader

⌗ horny!joel

⌗ 1.8k

⌗ 18+, piv, pregnant sex

──.★ what he didnt do [ @joelsgreys ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 5.1k

⌗ soft!joel, joel had ( and still has ) a crush on you for years

⌗ fluff, cute

⌗ hint of smut at the end but no actual smut

──.★ push and pull [ @javiscigarette ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 6.3k

⌗ 18+, piv, oral m & f-receive, degradation, multiple orgasms, cum play

──.★ always and forever [ @saph-cyare ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 1k+

⌗ fluff

⌗ 18+, piv

──.★ stranded [ @soullumii ]

⌗ afab!f!reader

⌗ soft!joel

⌗ 7.6k

⌗ fluff, no outbreak

⌗ 18+, piv, fingering, slight somnophilia

──.★ the fisherman's wife [ @joelmama ]

⌗ afab!f!reader

⌗ fisherman!joel, soft!joel

⌗ 28.2k

⌗ arranged mariage, angst, fluff

⌗ mentions of death

⌗ 18+, piv, oral m & f-receive, virginity loss

⌗ YALL THIS SOUP IS BUSSIN IM SCREAMING ABOUT THIS

──.★ cave [ @yeollie-plz ]

⌗ gn!reader

⌗ 1k+

⌗ angst, jealousy, fluff

──.★ 5 + 1 kisses [ @forever-rogue ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 3.7k

⌗ language

──.★ pretend [ @littlelou22 ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ mean!joel, insecure!joel

⌗ 6.2k

⌗ angst, hurt, fluff

⌗ language, violence

──.★ trying not to love you [ @supernaturalgirl20 ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 1k+

⌗ jealousy, mild angst

⌗ mentions of drug and alcohol

⌗ 18+, piv, oral f-receive

──.★ jealousy, jealousy [ @atinylittlepain ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ jealous!joel

⌗ 1k+

⌗ slight angst, slight fluff

⌗ 18+, piv, rough sex, semi-public

──.★ on your mark [ @psychedelic-ink ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ fallen angel!joel, possessive!joel

⌗ 5.2k

⌗ morbid cult setting, angel experimentation, some violence, blood

⌗ 18+, piv, creampie, breeding, dirty talk

──.★ something in the orange [ @mandoisapunk ]

⌗ afab!reader

⌗ 1.7k

⌗ biggest fluff ever, tiny tiny angst,

⌗ implied smut

[rocknrollbabydollblog]

★☆THE ESSENTIAL ROCK N ROLL STYLE GUIDE (PART 1)★☆

Second-hand, thrift and vintage stores are your best friend - especially the aisle that no one can find and the corners that no one is bothered to rummage. First priority is to choose a rock muse style icon. Pattie Boyd’s cut-crease makeup, perfect pout and psychedelic mini skirts, Marianne Faithfull’s thick bangs and love for velvet and snake-skin, Pamela Des Barres’ wild locks and clown makeup, Anita Pallenberg’s chunky belts, hot pants and huge sun hats, Bebe Buell’s 70s cover girl waves and backless halters, Linda Keith’s fur hats, Ginger Gilmour’s golden ringlets and lace bell-bottom sleeve tops, Mary Austin’s skinny scarves and bohemian prints, May Pang’s octagonal sunglasses and straight jet black hair, Linda McCartney’s classy midi skirts, Lori Maddox and Sable Starr’s spandex shorts, wedgie platforms and crazy hair, Charlotte Martin’s baggier effortless Parisian style, Alice Ormsby Gore’s bohemian layering and flowy midi skirts, Jenny Boyd’s medieval-esque dresses and peasant-style, Iggy Rose’s eye crystals and makeup, and of course Miss Priscilla Presley’s perfect feline Egyptian cat-eye, black hair and ivory complexion. Groupie rock muse style ranges from where you’re going to who you’re seeing. If you’re offering your boyfriend arm candy at his Album Launch, you’re not going to be wearing the same pair of hot pants and lace-up boots that you did at his last concert. And if you’re lounging around in the studio at 12am, you’re not going to be wearing that glam paisley dress you wore backstage on tour. Groupie style is all about knowing what to wear and where to wear it. Gigs and concerts will call for a more flamboyant, and ‘out-there’ look. Style staples for concerts and gigs include hot pants, knee-high boots, snake-skin, fur coats and of course afghan coats, chunky jewelry, face gems and body glitter, halter tops and mini skirts and dresses. This is very similar to festival style if your rockstar boyfriend is playing there - however, more flowy and bohemian styles are more welcome and especially face gems and body glitter. Sun hats, lace-up gladiator boots and sandals, and peasant maxi dresses and blouses. 

Stay tuned for part 2 where I will be discussing style staples for album launches and recording sessions.

[albertstrustie]

April

I was in my early twenties, living in New York City.

April. The word always reminds me of the beginning of a song or the title of a novel. In reality, it's just a month in the middle of spring, yet it holds a singular memory for me.

Her.

I’d never had a relationship with a woman before that night. I never thought I’d want to. But then again, I never expected to find myself in the situation I did.

It was late on a Thursday, and the city was its usual self—alive, teeming with the nightlife it was so famous for. I was standing outside a party that was being held in my apartment, needing some air after having too much to drink. The streets were still crowded, even though it was past one in the morning. After all, it was the weekend.

I wasn’t drunk, but I had that nice, floaty feeling you get when you're just a little over tipsy. I wasn’t sure where I was going or if I was going anywhere at all.

The street lamps and flashing neon signs gave everything an almost psychedelic hue. The night was warm, but a chill breeze blew in from the water. Just as I started to feel cold and debated going back inside, I caught a flash of red hair out of the corner of my eye.

I hadn’t seen her at the party, but here she was, in the flesh. I remember being transfixed by her face, the way her eyes were bright and blue, her smile soft. There was something in the curve of her neck and shoulders that made me ache.

I remember her skin—smooth and pale, with a slight dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Her hair was the color of fire, the kind that can burn you. I remember wondering what it would be like to touch it, whether it would feel silky or coarse.

She was alone, her polka dot summer dress short and fluttering slightly in the breeze. When she moved, I could see her calves, the smooth expanse of her thighs. She was slim, petite, and I remember wondering if I appeared that small to others.

I don’t know how long we stood there, looking at each other but I didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to break the spell that had fallen over us.

I had no idea what I would have said if I could speak, but I wanted to know. I wanted to know her name, her favorite song. I wanted to know where she grew up and what made her laugh. I wanted to know where she was staying in this crazy town and if she liked it. I wanted to know if she was seeing anyone, what she liked for breakfast, how she took her coffee, if she liked cats or dogs, if she had siblings.

I wanted to know, wanted, wanted, wanted.

And then, I had her.

Her hands were in my hair, mine on her waist, pulling her close. Her lips were on mine, and I was kissing her. Kissing her with everything I had, and more.

It was hot and needy, and when she ran her fingers through my hair, tugging gently, I moaned against her mouth. She tasted sweet, like the fruity drink I imagined her sipping—probably a daiquiri or some other cocktail.

I couldn’t believe this was happening.

Was it a dream?

She pulled away, breathing hard. I felt a little lightheaded, but not enough to pass out.

“I’m April,” she breathed, and her voice was the prettiest sound I had ever heard.

I didn’t care if this was a dream. I was going to enjoy it, make it last as long as I could.

“I’m Jasmine.” The words came out as a whisper, and she laughed.

—

The New York breeze fluttered through her curtains, and I was instantly awake. My head hurt, and I couldn’t remember where I was. I blinked, trying to focus.

A window.

Curtains.

City noise.

April.

She was curled up beside me, her arms wrapped around a pillow. She looked like a goddess, her hair splayed out on the bed and her pale skin glowing. She was still naked, and I could see her curves, the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist.

I watched her chest rise and fall.

I watched the sunlight dance across her face.

I watched her eyelids flutter, and her lips part.

She was breathtaking.

I didn’t want to leave her, but I had to go. I needed to go.

But as if she could hear my mind, she whispered my name.

My heart skipped a beat, and I turned to face her. She was awake, her blue eyes shining.

“Don’t go.”

Her voice was soft and sweet, and her words made my heart melt.

“Please, stay with me.”

I wanted to. God, how I wanted to.

So, I stayed.

I intertwined myself with her again, our foreheads pressed together, our legs entangled. I listened to her breathing, her soft moans. I touched her, felt her, kissed her.

She was more knowledgeable than me, and she taught me so many things that left me feeling as if I was floating. I didn’t know it was possible to love a stranger so deeply but in that moment anything felt possible.

We didn’t go back to sleep. Not after the sun had risen, and the morning had come.

I watched the clock turn from five o’clock to six o’clock, to seven o’clock. Her mouth descended to my core, and the clock disappeared. Everything disappeared.

It was Sunday, and the sun was shining. My headache was gone, and I was in heaven.

April.

I don’t think I could forget that name even if I tried.

[vileviale]

why am I just discovering Pink Floyd at 19 at midnight I’m such a loser I have the music taste of a middle schooler and I found this kid who I really liked and then I found out he was already dating someone and he referred to them as his partner which probably means he’s gay which doesn’t change anything but he’s the strangest dude I’ve met in a while first of all he’s a lot smarter than me and it makes me feel embarrassed so I act dumber around him and that makes me feel better about myself for some reason idk I’ve just always been the smart one so it feels weird secondly he likes to go to these like abandoned buildings and sit on ledges that are like 40 stories high with his friend and he showed me these breath taking pictures and that’s when I realized I’m mediocre at everything and I’m so plain when this whole time I thought I was the coolest person alive and he’s got this long hair that I just wanna brush cause it looks so brushable I bet I could put a nice braid in it too but that’s wrong to say cause that’s for his partner to do or something but if you saw his hair you’d think the same thing and I fell in love with him when he was explaining halbach arrays to me and then realized he didn’t know what he was talking about and I think that’s so funny and he’s got this real funny laugh don’t worry I’m like super respectful I just gotta talk about this dude bc he’s so weird when I first saw him he had duct tape on the corner of his glasses like what a fucking nerd he’s got nice hands too and he likes indie folk music like me well who doesn’t but dammit after he showed me those crazy pictures where he was dangling off skyscrapers I realized I couldn’t show nothing cool about myself but the bad thing is this bitch does not like fiction he isn’t into any novels or movies or nothing and I just. Idk need a confidence boost so anyways back to Pink Floyd he says he say cool graffiti of some of the albums in a storm drain and that’s when I remembered I’ve only listened to like one of their songs also he’s got adhd and is dyslexic so we always are talking and getting distracted and it so much fun but yeah I’m listening to Pink Floyd rn and it’s ok I can see why people like it so much it’s like the Beatles but more dramatic and rockish and it’s got this very abstract psychedelic feeling? I should go to bed oh also he’s helping me with my project and he laughs at my jokes. But maybe he thinks I’m an idiot idk okokokok brain calm down it’s not all that why do you always do this to yourself all the creepy guys and girls try to go after you and all the cool people are in a relationship

[kay-bot-bug]

I sorta came up with how I want Hoodude, Scarah and Jackson to be in g3

Scarah

I think she’d be a quiet fashion designer who incorporates death and 70s psychedelic art into her work

Scarah is very nervous around people because she can see when they die but she’s more Comfortable around Hoodude because he’s basically immortal

She’s only really talkative around Hoodude and often speaks her mind about things with him

Even though she’s smart Scarah would be really clumsy like Hoodude and they often help eachother out of situations

Jackson

Even though he looks socially awkward and timid on the outside he’s a total mad scientist whenever he’s alone being really obsessed with bringing things back to life and even grave robbing for more body parts to test on(he’s also the grandson of Dr.Blunder and gets his craziness from them)

I think it’d be pretty interesting to see him and Holt interact more like whenever they switch the one who’s not in control acts as a voice in the other one’s head

He and Holt are like total opposites with Holt being the more chill personality and Jackson being the more crazier one(Also Jackson is the one who struggles in his classes because he stays up all night doing experiments)

I want him and Frankie to interact more in a platonic way with them both sharing experiences with being trans and stuff(Same with Clawdeen since they’re both half human)

Hoodude

I’d so love if him and Frankie were actually sibling because I absolutely hate how he was treated in g1(like they’re both just figuring everything out and helping eachother with new things)

Hoodude is definitely a theater kid who takes an interest of being in movies and pleats involving romance

I think it’d be cute to have him and lagoona be friends with her introducing him to romance films and the concept of love

He and Scarah are definitely best friends and they help each-other whenever they’re facing problems

Scarah and Hoodude definitely are each other’s support and infodump about each-others interest

Also for fun headcanons:

Scarah helped Hoodude with his outfit and overall appearance(she sewed on his button eyes and helped with his patches and hair!!)

Hoodude models Scarah’s outfits for her and let’s her use him as a mannequin

Hoodude cleans himself by throwing himself in the washing machine-

Jackson has a pet eyeball spider who he calls splitz (they’re his child and he WILL kill you if you hurt them)

Jackson,Ghoulia and Manny hang out by playing video games and studying

I kinda have artblock rn so I thought it’d be fun to share these lol-

[skeleboys-askblog]

✧Here’s some of mod Scorpii’s headcanons for Calibri while I work on his designs.✧

(Also!! Me and Bee’s headcanons might not always line up with each other’s so we’ll be labeling them and tagging them with either #Scorpii’s headcanons🦂 or #Bee’s headcanons🐝 respectively!!! Ty :-)!!!)

✧I think Calibri would be a total deadhead!! He’s really into psychedelic rock and has a Grateful Dead hoodie he wears everywhere.

✧He definitely flunked high school really bad. He’d show up to class absolutely zooted at 7 A.M. and just coast through the day on nothing but vibes and the edible in his pocket. Papyrus made him at least get his GED afterwards.

✧He totally models his guitar playing after Jimi Hendrix, and Napstaton samples his riffs for his music.

✧That being said!! Calibri definitely has access to Napstaton’s official social media and posts the worst things imaginable on his professional account. It’s always like low res images of Goku with captions like “shidded” and then nothing else.

✧Calibri is the chill homie harboring an unfathomable amount of sadness.

✧Like, his inferiority complex has only gotten worse with age (He’d be about 19-21 in our future au) To be honest, he’s a total basket case that really wants to change, but is too scared to put in the effort.

✧He brings a “we should all quit” vibe to the work place that managers don’t really like.

✧Expanding on that; he’s been fired from pretty much every single job he’s had until Napstaton gave him a job at his record store/radio station.

✧He previously worked at a movie theater and helped kids sneak in to shows through the back, but eventually got caught.

✧Calibri can give you solid music recommendations based on your vibes alone and he’s got a 99% success rate.

✧He asked Trajan to be his trip sitter one time, but as soon as the shrooms hit he got terrified of Trajan’s four eyes and locked himself in the laundry room.

✧He and Hapstablook love to cook together!! He also cooks with Sans too, but it can get to be a really exhausting couple of hours trying to wrangle him into actually cooking the taco meat. So Calibri really values his time with Hapstablook cause it’s usually just a very sweet and calming experience.

✧The bandana in my new design for him is from his uncle Sans 🫶 he has like, a million and wanted Calibri to match with him.

✧He’d rather die than cut his hair.

✧Calibri’s style now leans more into a hippie-punk kinda look, mainly cause he aligns himself with most of the ideals of both subcultures.

Here’s my sketch of his new design so far!! I’ll have a more confident piece for him, this is just a lazy slap-together.

He’s got on that stupid Grateful Dead hoodie and a battle vest full of patches of all his favorite artists.

Never ditched the chucks! He still rocks with his converse- and his fingerless gloves.

He doesn’t tie his hair up as often anymore, but he does dress it up with that bandana that I mentioned!

His tank top underneath has a Misfits logo on it 💪

And that’s a crazy ass monster boof from the Hot-Lands so who knows what’s actually in it.

-Scorpii

[mstornadox]

Eurovison 2023 Semifinals 1

Norway - okay song and performance

Malta - feel like this performance would fill a bingo card. Sax player? Check. Cheesy graphics? Oh yeah. Blah song? Most definitely

Serbia - Emo boy whose lipstick kept distracting me. Also 2nd performance with video game imagery

Latvia - ooh, a rock band,

Portugal - best song so far. Backup dancers had very expressive faces

Ireland - liked the chorus. Drummer was having a fabulous time

Croatia - love their style. Psychedelic crazy fun energy

Switzerland - another anti war song. Liking the backup dancers

Israel - music good; lyrics meh

Moldova - best costumes and hair so far. And a satyr

Sweden - power ballad. Like the post-apocalyptic aesthetic

Azerbaijan - goofy aesthetic. song is mashup of early Beatles with 2000s alt rock. (I’m loving the floppy hair)

Czech - best promo vid so far. Wish they had kept more of the aesthetic in their performance; all pink outfits were boring in comparison. Did like how each one had a different cut. Also, loved the song when they sang together

Netherlands - very sincere

Finland - I want to take a ride in the sauna Ferris wheel. Very metal, good performance, energy dipped towards the end

Faves: Portugal, Norway, Croatia, Moldova, Finland, Czech

Wish I had been able to participate in the Rest of the World vote.

France - looks promising

Germany - love their look, song ?

Italy - maybe

Additional thoughts

So. Much. Glitter. Eye. Makeup.

Glitter and sequins everywhere

Bedazzled saxophone!

Backup dancers were often more compelling than the singers

Lots of single color costumes.

I like how they show the performers up next. However. I keep getting fooled into thinking a group will play when it is a solo singer.

Love Hannah Waddington’s dress

[mando-abs]

Alright after almost having an irrational breakdown over whether or not I’ll see Spiderverse spoilers, I went to go see it

And since @psychedelic-ink wants to talk about it with someone, here are my notes :)

Spoilers below the cut, proceed with caution

My sibling said they knew of a cameo and I thought it was gonna just be J.K. Simmons as J Jonah Jameson (in two universes)

I was surprised that Gwen took up the intro. But I’m not mad about it, just unexpected. Which is exactly what she said “let’s do this differently”

THE RENAISSANCE VULTURE AHHHH so cool. Loved how the style clashed with the rest of the universe

Miles’ mom’s Spanglish is no joke. She would change mid sentence (mid- word???) my (limited) Spanish class knowledge can’t keep up 😭😭😭😭New respect for the Spanglish kids having to decode their parents all the time

Also was Miles’ roommate playing the Spiderman PS2 game? Like the controller was new but I swear it looked like the PS2 game. I understand the new Spiderman PS4 and PA5 game is popular rn so I’d get if it was that instead. I’m just not as familiar with that

I thought from the trailer that the spot was going to be a minor villain and they weren’t gonna show the main villain. But I like how they made him a genuine threat. He’s still a nerd tho

WHEN GWEN’S FATHER TRIED TO ARREST HER OMG. A cop’s a cop

Pavitr is so 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 I love him

His hair is that luscious bc of shampoo and genetics lol. I get that a lot with my complexion. Never had any publicly visible acne, and yes I love flaunting that fact at least once a year so. This is the one

I thought “wouldn’t it be messed up if they reversed this a killed the captain anyways?” And I’m so glad they didn’t. Please let Pavitr continue to be the golden child. He deserves it

AND HOBIE!!!! He hates the AM and the PM (prime minister) lol. The comedic relief we didn’t know we needed. Also he is super hot. Is he a teenager tho? Hold on. Still don’t know. I’m not about to swoon over a teen but he looks over 18 and I have a soft spot for punk guys 😌😌😌😌

Hobie and Mayday is the best pair and they only had a few seconds together. Sad

ALSO, only critique, I was severely lacking in Mayday content. I would like to see the baby. Give me more Mayday

Does this make Miles Mayday’s godfather? Cause I hope so.

DONALD GLOVER AHHHHHHHHHHH

Donald as the big cameo was the best. I audibly gasped. Our hero. Thank you for sparking Miles Morales

Of course I loved the other Sony Peters.

Also I didn’t realize that was PS4 Peter saying “are you talking to me?” during the video game characters in prison. I thought it was Miles

ALSO WAS THE SPECTACULAR SPIDERMAN TALKING TO (I believe) MILES BECAUSE IT LOOKED LIKE IT

Oh! How could I forget the Lego Peter Parker ❤️❤️❤️ I cackled that Miguel said Lego Peter did some of the best work. Like hell yeah he did. Legos don’t mess around 😂

ALSO DID YOU KNOW THE LEGO SEQUENCES WERE ANIMATED BY A 14 YEAR OLD???? Crazy

Moose-teriyo

I know Miguel is trying to to save a whole universe and doing it for the greater good but holy cow man. He’s a child. It’s his dad you’re talking about. He’s not gonna be rational, and don’t ever expect him to. I wouldn’t. Like I don’t care, I just want my dad to be alright.

Also what is his beef with Peter B. Parker? I feel like there’s more there

Miguel’s backstory hurt tho. No wonder he’s traumatized. I’d become the antagonist too (not villain - just the person that gets in the way of the protagonist)

Also who’s the daddy of Jessica’s baby? We only got glimpses of her backstory. Like did she remove herself from the baby daddy? Did he die? Is Miguel the dad? I doubt it but I’m just nosey. I need her specific trauma gimmie gimmie. Jessica having a soft spot for Gwen. Women protecting women. Gotta love it

Is this the first movie to incorporate footnotes? I feel like it is. It’s certainly the first one I’ve seen. Also “I haven’t got a Scooby Doo” is a phenomenal phrase. And I’m so disappointed that the Brits use it and not us. Like, come on. We’re Scooby Doo capital of the world. Every American loves Scooby Doo.

Okay, Miles being an anomaly was a great twist. But wouldn’t his world collapse then? Wouldn’t Earth 42 collapse? Wouldn’t Miles glitch more? If Mike’s was never meant to be Spiderman than why is the multiverse not already erasing itself?

I think Miles and his universe is the key to restoring other universes, especially the ones where the holes were contained.

PROWLER MILES AHHHHHHH

I kinda knew he’d get stuck in a dimension tho with the “don’t get lost” line from mom. But I didn’t expect a world without Spiderman! So cool.

[odysseywritings]

Interviewing the Sorceress

@flashfictionfridayofficial

She caught my eye with her colorful purple clothes, half her hair jet black and half white, and a collection of gold trinkets that had no obvious origin, such as a cyclops and a three headed alien. For privacy, her real name and location have been omitted, yet her van had an elaborate painting of a wizard surrounded by trees. She appears to be born in the 50s yet her energy is youthful and loose.

My dad fought in the Second World War, and he never shook that off, so I grew up a military brat. I went across the states but also Germany. And everywhere I went, I saw premonitions coming from anything at any time. I didn't think about them a lot until they came true. It started off small with what food would be in school or what buildings I'd see. You couldn't say this stuff out loud or you'd be labeled insane so I kept it inside like a good little patriot.

Then bombs showed up nearly every week, us being the "Duck and Cover" generation, and I had this growing anxiety that the world would end. It made me cold and violent toward anything and anyone, small or big. Why bother being good if the world would turn to fire and rubble before I could drive or get my first kiss?

My teenage years had me running away a lot, meeting outcasts, smoking, bussing with rock stars, joining protests, all that. I dabbled in tarot and psychedelics, but what I saw was different, more real. By the 70s, I'd go through these invisible doors that would open up.

When did you realize you were entering these doors?

They would be around corners: alleys, woods, interiors. I didn't feel anything change on my body, but I felt I was in a transient state. Like a caterpillar turning into mush in a chrysalis. Suddenly, I was no longer in my world. It was like being in an alien planet in those hokey B-movies. (laughs)

People looked the same, but the fashion was radical, people were teleporting in these phone booth things, and robots were much more life-like. And before I knew it, I'd flip back to the world of tie dye and an energy crisis.

Some people claim to be abducted by aliens. Do you think you experienced a similar fate?

Oh, goodness, no. I didn't see any little green or gray men. I always felt like I stayed on Earth. The free love movement and sexual revolution made the culture shock easier to absorb, but it was overwhelming at first. As the 80s went on, and progress was slowing down, I felt a longing to go back. I was so tired of people being cruel and dumb, getting obsessed with yuppie greed, settling down in unhappy marriages and jobs. Things were becoming hazy and I wondered if there was any optimism.

It took a few years before another door opened and I couldn't wait! Everything was even more futuristic. There was no smog, no poverty, no real divisions. People had magic, or some kind of advanced technology, where they could just create things out of thin air!

I spent so much time in that future, I left my old one for... I think, 8 years. In that time, I could feel the universe and grab all the atoms. They could be weaved and crafted like a sewing kit for any problem. Viruses, fuel shortages, broken bones, hunger, all gone. I didn't worry about survival like I used to, and I studied and traveled with all the time in the world. I even trained to be an astronaut!

I could see so much of the galaxy and beyond. Even in space, the most terrifying and lonely place, I felt secure knowing I was closer to knowing life in its entirety.

What made you decide to return here?

I didn't want to learn everything while I was still healthy. What else would I do besides get bored to death? I'm over 70 but I haven't felt this young before. All the regrets, shame, anger, confusion, and pessimism in my youth are so distant that they belong to someone who doesn't exist anymore.

What matters is that I keep doing new things, making the impossible happen, and delivering the truth to others. I know I seem like a crazy old lady, but you can find doors to enter if you turn your head around the corner, and discover a new way to live life when everything seems to drag you down.

Thank you for taking the time for this interview.

My pleasure, dear!

[cliffburton]

ex. for the most part remants of the vessel by faetooth sounds like photos and quick videos on top of each other in a layering way, actually let me list it

(iii) moribund is the intro to saturn devouring his son, sdhs makes me feel far too many things so i'm gonna write that down later.

(i) naissance as the intro to echolalia is like slow brush strokes to build a layer for the song, i find the division tasteful

echolalia is the one with the fuller photos and the movements are chaotic on the chorus and ending but steady and even square like (like a square falling down) for the rest of the track. oh also the end feels like a circle maze like the echo from being driven insane. it also feels very golden/brown which i guess is what they intended

la sorcière sounds very very witchy there's black smoke since the beginning of the song and it keeps building up til it suffocates you, and it's only released when the song ends and the rain walks you to the next song, the shapes are usually sharp and the movement feels symmetrical for the most part except for some flashing images. i've seen some minutes of belladonna of sadness and they captured not really the colors or art style of it (don't think they were going for it either) but they 100% capture the pain and the psychedelic ish changes of the film. i think this is a VERY purple track, ofc, it's witchy with some reds (esp on the intro), some few silver daggers and some very loose gold, but maybe that's just me projecting my personal fave colors LOL.

she cast a shadow has that typical dragging movement of doom and it's nicely contrasted with shiny textures of the guitar intro and that section before the "all her wrath..." section, a lot less sharp, it also feels very very horizontal, related to that dragging feeling. sometimes it feels like it's crushing something.

then there's (ii) limbo which is really the resolution to she cast a shadow, and i think it's a similar situation to it with some changes. first, it feels like it's underwater, like it's drowning, at some point i can see hairs flowing in water and it also makes me think of art nouveau hair. it sounds very dark cyan + bright red (dk if it's red with a blue undertone or yellow undertone tho i'm however leaning to yellowish). it also kinda reminds me of a cosmic horror feel with the whole cosmos-deep sea relationship

remains feels like a movie at moments, light colors used in a heavy way, i like it, it's desaturated at times but i mean it in a good way, and it can be hard to make a track with desaturated colors sound to this good. it feels rosey sometimes but it's also very gray. movement feels concave and the texture is ash-like. not very discernible but i love that there's mystery to it, like the colors in a black and white photo, up to interpretation. very floaty too but not in a levitating way nor in a cloud way, more like in a fabric way, or like sand in the wind. some fog to it but it's not really heavy. oh and i love the bass line at the beginning. dragging down, it's more on the vertical movement side, but there's some crazy diagonals here and these.

discarnate !!!!!!! more on the average doom end of things but I think that's precisely what makes it stand out on the album. thundering, and fleshy, very flesh-like. it also reminds me of the moon. very silver, then. scythe-like def. rough texture def. but that's a given i feel. def rainy too. OH ALSO the ending riff makes me think of the bridge riff in sabbath bloody sabbath

strange ways,,,,,,,, also somewhat film-like, like a 70s artistic interpretation of some romance story, ig that exists but i'm not in the mood to look it up. sharper and clearer than remains, orangey tbh, but in a somber way. early morning golden hour on a cloudy day maybe. regretful. sunny in a very sad way but not in the way that makes me dissociate. sunny in a way i haven't seen the sun.

[ask-aurachnid]

Enter, Punisher

Part 1: Tricks and Illusions Part 2: Proceed With Caution

[TW: Unreality, intrusive thoughts, hallucinations]

Word Count: 1k ◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

Frankie’s grip on the passage of time is weak. The sky is still dark and they haven’t moved from the corner, but clearly, some time has passed. There’s a cup of water in their hands, less full than when Nicky handed it to them, the straw tap-tap-tapping on the sides as their hands continue to shake.

They take another sip. They don’t feel thirsty, but Nicky says “good job” every time she sees them drink. 

She’s sitting next to them now, a phone in her hand while she chews on her lower lip. Her hair has stopped turning into blood. Frankie gave up trying to get her to leave. 

“You’re gonna hurt her.”

They don’t respond. It’s not real. It’s one of the few things Frankie’s sure of. 

“Sweetheart,” Nicky says, voice low. “Can I call someone for you?”

Oh, the phone in her hand is Frankie’s burner. “Who?”

“I think it might help if you see Castle.”

“You replaced your dads with a murderer who doesn’t even like you.”

Frankie frowns. “But he left. I’m not his family, I’m a cuckoo. I remember that, I think?”

Castle had left, hadn’t he? He called them a parasite and then walked away? But he’d promised to have their back, too. He kept clothes for them in his safe house and came to their graduation. Frankie’s fairly certain that he left, but they know he did those other things. It’s so confusing.

“Man, you’re just as crazy as Jigsaw. Remember what happened to him?”

“You’re not a cuckoo, Frankie. He loves you,” Nicky promises. “Can I try and prove it to you?”

Frankie nods and takes another sip of their water. Nicky tells them “good job” before getting up to make the phone call. She always paces on the phone. Frankie takes another deep breath and finishes their water with a loud slurp. They put the glass on the  floor so the straw will stop tap-tap-tapping. The rainwater has dried, but their skin feels sticky with sweat-and-blood and their hair is stiff. They’ve been so anxious for so long that it’s almost starting to get boring. Their legs are cramping. 

Castle doesn’t answer, the first time Nicky calls. Frankie knows it’s rude to eavesdrop but Nicky’s voice is much nicer than the ones in their head. 

She groans, and the phone beeps as she dials again. Castle answers on the second ring, voice slightly garbled. It’s not on speakerphone, but Frankie’s ears are more sensitive than they’d like.

“Hullo?” He sounds like he’s just woken up. Please don’t be mad. 

“Frank Castle? Don’t hang up!”  Nicky says in a rush. “My name is Nicky. I’m Frankie’s girlfriend.”

“What happened?” He sounds more awake now. “Are they safe?”

“They’re a little banged up, but they’re safe. I’m calling for something else. Are you in New York?”

He grunts in a way Frankie knows means “yes.”

“They had a fight with Mysterio today. She hit them with some sort of psychedelic gas and it made them see some horrible things,” she explains. “I don’t know most of it, but I think she convinced them that you left? The toxin is still messing with their head, but I think it might help if they could see you?”

“You at their apartment? Can I talk to them?” Castle asks. Frankie can hear fabric rustling and the stomp of heavy boots. Jangling keys. A slamming door. 

“Yeah, let me ask.” Nicky holds the phone to her collarbone as she kneels down in front of them. “Sweetheart, Castle wants to talk to you. Is that okay?”

Cautiously, Frankie nods. He has their back, right? He promised, and Nicky doesn’t lie to them. 

“Okay. I’m gonna put it on speaker and go get you some more water. Good job drinking all of it for me.” She gives a soft smile, picking up the cup and leaving the phone on the floor by their feet. “Go ahead, Castle. They might not respond, but they can hear you.”

“Hey, kid,” Oh. His voice is softer than it was before. He sounded so mean when he walked away. “Heard you had a rough day.”

“Mm-hmm,” Frankie answers, resting their chin on their knees. “She lied about the titans. Made me see things. Hear things. Are you real?"

"I'm real, sweetheart." Creaking hinges. An engine turning over with a hitch. Tires squealing against pavement. "I'm on my way. Ten minutes. You gonna be okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Alright. I'm gonna hang up now. Drink some water and breathe. Ten minutes.”

They hum again before the line clicks and Nicky comes back with a new cup of water. There’s ice this time, and the cold feels good on their throat. 

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

Frankie watches the clock after Castle hangs up, waiting. Nicky sits down next to them again. She’s talking about something, maybe homework. Frankie isn’t listening, really, but her voice makes the other voices easier to ignore, so they don’t say anything. 

Nine minutes and fourteen seconds after Castle hangs up, the door buzzer goes off. It’s loud and Frankie’s heart kicks back up. They have to set their cup down so they don’t spill it. Nicky stands up to go answer it. Nine minutes and forty-seven seconds after Castle hangs up, he walks through the door. 

He’s dressed differently than before. Cargo pants and his tac boots, a knife around his ankle. He takes off his coat before he kneels down in front of them. Nicky hovers awkwardly in the kitchen. A worn-out olive tee, a gun on his hip, and white gauze around his forearm. He must have just finished some business.

“Hey, kiddo. How you holding up?”

“You’re here?” they ask, instead. “You really came?”

“Yup. Hell or high water, right?” Castle answers. There’s a scrape on his brow and a gentle expression on his face. “You wanna come outta that corner and see for yourself?” he offers.

“You won’t leave?”

“I won’t leave,” he agrees, shifting so his back is propped against the wall, legs stretched out underneath Frankie’s bed. “I’ll wait as long as you need.”

[theophagie-remade]

I'm pro legalisation regardless so fuck what I think I guess, but it's crazy to me that "all drugs are 100% bad no matter what and no distinctions can be made between them" is still such a common way of thinking, especially when people continuously do arbitrarily decide which drugs are socially acceptable (eg alcohol) and which aren't, all while every other month there's a study on how things like psychedelic drugs can be useful for treating certain mental illnesses or disorders and shit. I mean, I understand that asking for consistency from certain individuals is useless, so I'm not surprised that a while ago people here tore their hair out at the prospect of having to put warnings on wine bottles because oUr eXcElLeNcIeS, all whilst vehemently opposing ~recreational drug use~, but like. I can't take you seriously boo lol. And there's also that tiny little problem of capillar organised crime in the whole country, which would maybe even if only a little have a harder time if we made a good choice on the matter for once, but whatever I guess