#throwing them at the wall like a bouncy ball

[elliscousland]

❝ i know i can’t protect you from everything, but i wish you’d let me protect you from the things i can control. ❞ from big sis elissa || @plusdedragonne

ellis stiffens his upper lip but tears still sting at his eyes. a wave of emotion takes him like a summer storm. he feels like a small child in a too big world, exposed & vulnerable to his sister's gaze. her words cut through him, slicing into his core & driving him to bleed sentiment.

" I don't need to be protected, lissa, " he lies, casting his gaze to the ground. truthfully, he felt like he needed to be protected now more than ever. that the security he had always known in his life was ripped from under him & now he was at the mercy of every terror that laid before them. elissa was under same same threat, standing before the very same terrors. he was being selfish, waning that security, when she didn't have it either.

he tries to fight the comfort he finds in the thought, that his big sister was there to make sure he was safe. it's woven with a terrible humiliation that came with the fact. he wanted to be better, to be strong with her. instead, he was another burden for her to carry. he's not sure when the tears begin to fall but they do.

" i can take care of myself. " he wipes his eyes with his palm, smearing dirt & blood across his cheek in the process, " i'm the last thing you should be worried about in all this mess. "

[insert-rwby-reference]

currently thinking about some blorbos but in like an "I'm about to explode" kinda way

[ultrakillingmyself]

Doyou guys ever think about adddddrift about theee fic that’s titled adrift on ao3 byyyy spiralofshame on ao3. That fic. The fan fiction titled adrift.

[xfindingtrouble]

collecting more quotes for percy & love & this quote made me think of vm

“We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love.” - Robert Fulghum, True Love

[titanofthedepths]

Hand of the King and Giant are like if people who are boyfriends weren’t boyfriends

[revelboo]

May I request a part 2 to “Skin and Bones: Megatron x pet reader”? Maybe megatron is stuck taking care of the reader again. Skywarp’s a d*ck who forgot to feed the poor organic that morning. And maybe there’s another incident where the human doesn’t think anyone is in earshot and megatron hears them singing and/or frees-stying poetry because they are bored. Bonus points if the human gets a bouncy ball as a gift from some con (if you’re choice I’m thinking Starscream or Soundwave but maybe Megatron? Whoever you feel is most likely to do it) for entertainment and just as said con of your choice turns around to address a concerned con to say “Oh don’t worry they aren’t a human sparkling they won’t try to eat it and choke, it’ll be fine.” The human pulls an Andy from parks and rec by throwing the ball against the nearest metal wall and it bouncing back to hit them in the face making them fall to the ground. 😂

Skin and Bones pt 2

Megatron x reader- pet

• A day without drama. Without putting out fires, dealing with whatever abominations Shockwave has created, or handling poorly thought out take over attempts by his SIC. Megatron’s not quite sure what to make of it as he rounds a corner and nearly steps on the human. Because it’s somehow loose and unsupervised and it definitely shouldn’t be.

• Yelping, you throw yourself backward as you nearly run right under the huge foot of Megatron in your hurry. Falling back on your butt, you stare up at him with dread. Especially as you hear your pursuer’s heavy steps. Oh, you’re dead. The leader of the Decepticons stares at you before looking back the way you came. Because you can both hear Skywarp threatening to weld you to a wall when he catches you. Very dead.

• Megatron frowns as the human darts toward him, having apparently decides its pursuer is scarier than he is and he’s not sure what to make of that. That he’s the safe harbor in the storm. Hearing the snarling profanity before the Seeker darts into the hallway, Megatron bends and scoops up the human, once again surprised by how light it is, insubstantial skin and bones. Aside from a sharp intake of breath, it’s silent. Those big eyes stare pleadingly up at him from that oddly almost Cybertronian face. Aside from the softness of it, he can almost pretend it’s a particularly tiny minicon.

• “Lose something?” He asks, dragging his optics from the human to Skywarp as the Seeker freezes.

• “It got away from me. Won’t happen again.” Baring his denta in a smile that promises pain, he holds out a hand. You shrink back, pressing tighter to the hand holding you.

• “Why aren’t you on patrol?” Shifting his cupped hand closer to his chassis, Megatron huffs as those little hands hold on to him. Clinging to him for safety. That shouldn’t warm his spark, but it does. He’s not soft on the hapless little creature. Of course not.

• “I’m not scheduled for-“

• “Allow me to rephrase that, go patrol,” he says, noting the way the human’s shoulders slump in relief as it looks up at him. Skywarp stiffens and for a moment, he thinks the mech might argue, then he turns on his heel. But not before shooting a filthy look at the human in his hand. He waits until Skywarp is gone before rumbling. “Want to explain what you did to make him so angry?”

• Breath hitching, your lips part, because he’s asking you a question. And he expects an answer. Starscream, Thundercracker, and Soundwave treat you so much like a badly trained, but loved puppy that you forget that they know you’re intelligent sometimes. Those red optics are burning a hole in you as you debate how much trouble the truth will get you in before you start talking.

• It wasn’t really your fault anyway. Thundercracker had given you the dodge ball like you were a little kid not an adult. How old did they think you were? Turning the hard rubber ball in your palms to test the weight of it, you’d offered Thundercracker a smile because he meant well at least. He was always bringing you weird stuff and when you thank him, he does that weirdly adorable wing flutter just like Starscream does when you agree with him.

• No sooner has he left, you’d become aware of Skywarp- your skin had prickled in goosebumps as you’d tried to not panic. Because this one had made it his goal to mess with you. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking, your skin still crawled because he’s there behind you. You could feel him behind you, watching with cruel predatory interest. You’d tossed the ball up and caught it to get a feel for it, then turned and lobbed it right at Skywarp’s face since it was right there. And when were you going to get a better opportunity?

• After admitting what you’d done as revenge for an earlier attempt by Skywarp to drown you that he’d generously called a bath, you fell silent and waited for Megatron’s judgement. Really, it’d been Skywarp’s fault for leaning so close to you- what had he expected? And a lot of the anger was because, by sheer luck, you’d nailed him square in the optic.

• Your tension drains away when Megatron actually laughs, his other hand coming up to ruffle your hair a bit too roughly with a servo and declare you tiny but fierce. Sure. He can call you whatever he wants if he keeps Skywarp from murdering you. You relax in his hand as he carries you back to the throne room to wait for Soundwave or Starscream to notice you’re missing. Previous Next

[noyzinerd]

Derek: So, you guys have both dated Stiles. Now that he and I are going to be living together, is there anything I should know about?

Malia: Hm...I mean, sometimes he drools in his sleep, but other than that-

Lydia: Shadow-Katta.

Malia: Oh...right...I feel like I made myself forget about that...

Derek: Shadow...Katta?

Malia: Every night before bed, Stiles practices a weird type of reflex training that he calls "Shadow-Katta".

Lydia: It's when he locks himself in his closet for an hour so that he can throw handfuls of bouncy balls off the walls and try to dodge them in the dark.

Derek:

Malia: Yeeeeeeah. So, there's...that.

[veritas-scribblings]

cherish - @rosekillermicrofic - words: 890 [mature: some thoughts of cannibalism]

Whomever thought that 18 years of age would be the correct age to force Evan, Barty and Regulus to be entirely self-sufficient obviously had a lot more faith in them than they ever really should have. Evan is fully prepared to admit that he, being raised in the depths of pureblood aristocracy, is high and proud about many things. His ability to independently care for the three of them is generally one of those things.

Normally. But it is surprising what hunger can do to a man.

There’s no fucking food in their home. 

For all the collective intelligence and skill between Evan, Barty and Regulus, it has apparently never occurred to any of them that food doesn’t just magically appear, no matter how great their magical aptitude. Food, unfortunately, actually needs to be purchased, prepared and/or cooked in order to actually be consumed.

There are several bottles of tequila and whiskey on the kitchen bench (the essentials, according to Barty), a jar of preserved horned slugs (because Regulus is a freak), and a sad browning lime. 

And now it’s 1.27am and Evan has reached the stage of hunger where his stomach feels like it’s begun to consume itself, and he just doesn’t know where to find food at such an unholy hour of the morning. Unfortunately, this is not a life skill his pureblood upbringing bestowed upon him.

“I once robbed a bakery,” Barty muses. Laying on his back staring at the ceiling (vaulted, Regulus had informed them when they’d all moved in), Barty throws a bouncy rubber ball up and down. It goes thunk, thunk, thunk against the wood. 

“I once robbed a bakery,” he repeats when he doesn’t get a reaction. “Just a little one. A…little robbery. It was 6am in the morning and I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a run and…you know, bakeries start…baking…early. Could smell it all the way from down the road. So I went in. Enchanted the bread sticks to chase the owner out.”

Barty is so full of shit. He never robbed a bakery, Evan is sure, because Barty would have surely brought him or Regulus along. Larceny is not a crime one should be committing alone. And, Evan thinks, Barty sometimes forgets how memorable he is, what with being the son of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement…and just a little bit bat-shit crazy.

“It was run by this little old muggle grandmother,” he says. He throws the rubber ball again. Thunk. Thunk. “One of those old French-style bakeries…”

“Boulangerie,” Evan supplies, because being raised in the pureblood aristocracy is useful for some things, like appearing cultured even when Barty doesn’t actually care about such things.

“Boulangerie,” Barty repeats dutifully. His expression is distant, almost glassy, and the emerald green of his fringe has fallen across his eyes. “Made off with a bag of pastries. Ate ‘em on the way home.” 

“You did not.”

"Did too."

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Evan tries to grab the stupid bouncy ball, but Barty is too quick for him and palms it away before throwing it at the far wall across their lounge. Again and again.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Perhaps…stomach growling, Evan glances side-long at Barty, who is deep in thought. Perhaps Evan could eat Barty, and not in the kinky sense of the word. He could sink his teeth into the rich, golden flesh of Barty’s neck. Of Barty’s arms. The expanse of Barty’s back. The ropes of muscles Barty has developed after so many sleepless nights of running the streets around their home because he has endless reserves of energy.

He could eat Barty, flesh and blood and bone. Digest him. Become one with him.

See, Barty has a smell about him that is deep and heady. A smell that Evan loves, so thoroughly masculine in its warmth. When they were younger and Barty was just hitting the peak of adolescence, it would bother Evan endlessly because it would be everywhere permeating every aspect of their dormitory. The smell would cling to Barty’s clothes. To Evan’s clothes and Regulus’s clothes, that somehow also became Barty’s clothes. To Barty’s bedsheets. To all their bedsheets.

And Evan was sure at the time that his raging hormones (and raging horniness and general raging obsession) would get him in trouble.

That Barty would see it or feel it, somehow notice it, even through the layers of robes they’d had to wear, that Evan entertained filthy thoughts and dreams about him. And Barty would realise that he’d made a terrible miscalculation when he’d decided to claim Evan as his and Regulus’s shared territory, and it would be the end of it all for Evan.

So, thank fuck for Evan that Barty–for all his intelligence–is so fucking oblivious.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Evan had once been so proudly sure that he was past all of that. The adolescent obsession. The adolescent angst. The terror of losing both of his best friends to the depths of his depravity. 

Only, laying on his back next to Barty, Evan realises he’s still caught in the corner between ‘fucked’ and ‘doomed’ with no way out.

His stomach grumbles. 

It’s hollow. Like he’s hollow. He thinks, dimly, through the haze of his ravenous hunger, that he could fill himself with Barty. Every nerve. Every cell. 

And the hollowness might just pass.

[thelien-art]

For the idea ask game, would you do Mîm and Maedhros, please?

This got a bit long... ups, but thanks for the ask :) <3, made me think about the dwarves as a whole a bit more

Mîm:

First impression: Something is fundamentally wrong with this guy for forgiving his son's murderer and simping (?) over said murder...

Impression now: I hate him so much okay? Like that little bastard tried to kill Finrod in his sleep! AND!! And betrayed Túrin and Beleg!

Favorite moment: The three hunters original!! No, never mind, he betrayed them because of his dislike for his son's murderer´s situationship… - I think it´s a bit funny that he was so jealous of Túrin´s love I believe it was a platonic obsession born from the need for control for Beleg, he might just be one of the first "if I can´t have you no one can"

Idea for a story: Redemption Túrin gets to kill him, instead of Húrin, right before dying as he takes Mîm in trying to claim the treasure for himself, and Mîm´s course gets so much more fucked up because it gets mixed with Túrin´s own.

Unpopular opinion: His curse wasn´t swag enough. I love angst okay? It would have been so cool if we had more stories about the cursed treasures, more than just the Nauglamír.

Favorite relationship: Death :) I would like to know more about the petty dwarves, so I guess his family ties...?? Although, I think it was a bit... complicated... with his sons at least...

Favorite headcanon: Upon his death Glaurung let some of his power out which Mîm somehow got maybe because he was the most wicked near?? that made him able to cast such a precise and powerful curse.

Maedhros:

First impression: First born of a "mad" king? I know to many fairitales to know how this is going to end, but I do like tall ginger dudes with long hair :)

Impression now: Favorit depressed ginger elf I want to throw against the wall as a bouncy ball. He´s a horrible guy, but man I love his tragic story and his tries for redemption (?) before realizing it´s all hopeless... I love him so much, one of my favorit.

Favorite moment: "A king is he that can hold his own or else his title is vain" like this little fucker grew up in a political world, and he has seen so much shit and he will not take any more!! I just love how ready he is to mock people and call them out on their BS. - although I think the quote carries a bit more than that, I don´t think Maedhros is mocking Thingol, even though that is who he speaks about. Thingol IS Lord of Beleriand, as all Sindar heed him, so I think Maedhros with his little speech managed to both get people over on his side, questioning Thingol, while still acknowledging his Lordship, and mock Morgoth, all in the same breath.

Idea for a story: An AU where he didn´t give the crown to Fingolfin. Maybe they shared kingship to prevent a civil war, or maybe Fingolfin thought that as long as he at least could be the right hand of Maedhros he would do everything to prevent a civil war as none of them would survive a civil war with Morgoth still there. I don´t know, I just see a lot of potential in this kind of AU :)

Unpopular opinion: Maedhros did grow up in a politically tense environment, although I´m not sure how much he felt of it as little, and I think it affected a lot of how he sees the world and how low he is willing to go for things he wants. I don´t think he´s a nice guy, and I´m not sure I ever believe he was a nice guy, I think he´s willing to lie and kill (as is seen) to get what he wants, although he prefers the... cleaner way. I see his story as a story about how someone can fall and what reasons are behind it and what pushes the character to their actions. Just make it as tragic as possible. He´s a tragic hero to me, one who did so much, yet still failed.

Favorite relationship: Platonic or romantic, either way, Fingon. From one day I see them as platonic the next as romantic, but I love their relationship so much, like they WILL, one HAVE, save each other both from themself but also from straight up hell!

Favorite headcanon: The closest brother to him is Caranthir!! And they got even closer after Angband where Caranthir was the one to help him teach him to use his left hand, here he also learned how to sew for the first time, as he needed to do something he hadn´t been good at before to show that he wasn´t bad he just needed practice!

My impression of character...

[selfshipgushing]

thinking about the god awful irritatingly irredeemable f/os.. like they’re not tolerable. At ALL. like I love them.. but I’m also acknowledging everything they’ve done and then I feel conflicted because what am I supposed to you with you vro THIS ISNT EVEN A VENT BTW SORRY IF IT SEEMS THAT WAY ITS JUST CONFUSING AUGH.. I think what makes it harder to associate myself with that f/o is the fact they’re a longtime enemy of another f/o I have but at the same time I’m like a magnet for these types of characters

anyways I love him and MIGHHTT give him a smooch on the cheek but after that I’m sending him flying down the stairs it’s okay he has regenerative powers .. he’ll get over it … I think Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

-📹🐺🥩

throw him against the wall like a bouncy ball

[cconfusedkat]

KAT OMG YOUR PFP IS SO CUTE??? LITTLE GUY!!! LITTLEST GUY!!! IM GONNA SQUISH THEM- HOLD THEM- CRADLE THEM- THROW THEM AGAINST THE WALL AND WATCH THEM BOUNCE LIKE A LITTLE BOUNCY BALL!!!

( this is me saying au love your pfp- it’s so cutesy and squishy and JABDINSBDJXNS /pos )

Face of a man who Absolutely TRICKED YOU INTO LIKING YOUR OWN ART STYLE ATTRIBUTES. /SILLY

MY PLAN ALL ALONG.......... IT WORKED.........

[xfindingtrouble]

The day had been busier than she had anticipated. Not that this was an unusual occurrence. Cassandra felt like her hands were always full or tied, depending on the situation. there was always something to do, even when she wished desperately to have some space to breathe. for every half-baked promise her brother had to offer, there was something new she would have to take care of ( because he surely wouldn't. )

it was understandable, often, but that didn't make it any easier. It made it much harder than it needed to be. Perhaps it would be better if she were irritated over things she couldn't make sense of. Then she couldn't rationalize it away & pretend it was just the way things were. It felt as though her skull was filled to the brim, packed tight with everything that had to be fine else she would drive herself mad. It seemed Percy was hellbent on collecting things to drive her Insane as he was.

One of these things was Taryon Darrington, a blonde, bold idiot who seemed intent on flitting about the castle with his brother like he'd been there his whole life. he could be endearing at times, but infuriating just as often. combined with Percy's lingering insanity… well, it could prove to be maddening when they caught her in the right mood.

This is why she had waited, ever so carefully, for the two of them to leave Percy's workshop for lunch. She'd collected a handful of tools, the book Percy was reading ( there was surely another copy in the library, but this one was his, marked & worn by his frequent use ) & a well-worn pair of tongs he would likely look for all week before accepting they were gone.

She nearly holds her expression steady, but there is a devious glint that threatens her gaze. The instinct to act out, to agitate, to poke & prod at a situation beyond what was on the surface. It rears it's head in the twitch of her brow, the way the corner of her mouth threatens to lift.

" A bit of both," she admits, carefully. She releases a sigh, letting her shoulders fall, "I didn't think I'd say it, but I miss the Scanlan. Odd as he was… " She waves her hand to the side as if referencing some unseen example of their oddities, " he was no Taryon. "

It was a sore spot for her brother still, but Scanlan had made a bit of a point. Vox Machina tended to let the details slip through their fingers, to forget about the people around them… it was no surprise when she heard of their falling out. they had forgotten about one of their own in their pursuit to save the world. It was strange, silly even to feel an odd tinge of satisfaction in it. Scanlan calling out their frequent neglect. It would fall on deaf ears if it were spoken from the outside. After all Percival had done for the world, it was still difficult to forget all he hadn't. But it was still an astoundingly loud truth & it was about time someone shared it… What they hadn't expected was for them to collect another adventurer in his place. an overtly confident adventurer with idiosyncrasies that only encouraged Percival's insanity.

she should be happy that he was happy & in a way she was. but their shared laughter acted as an odd sort of reminder, a sentiment only available in Scanlan's absence. scanlan who had died, scanlan who they had brought back. and her damned brother had died once again as well. everyone around her was dying, being brought back to life & was treasured for it… it was surreal, in a way, to see how everyone fawned & fussed over their resurrected comrades.

It filled Cassandra with a private sort of jealousy, the type she could never speak aloud… but it was a comfort she had been denied when she was young. when it had happened to her. Not that any of them knew it, how could they? they never asked. the void left in Scanlan's place was an odd reminder of their relative mortality, how it was treated, how it was dismissed. it made the thoughts in her skull feel uncomfortably tight.

" You can stay if you'd like. " it's almost a request, though pride keeps her from asking. Cassandra had known that someone may be down here. there were always guards posted, she had already lost the defense of deniability… but she had found strange understanding in Astoria. Truth be told, Cassandra was afraid of being trapped in the walls of her mind. tunneling her vision towards every indirect irritation, every lingering sentiment. There was a dam in her heart & she feared what would happen once it bursts. She dismisses the notion, as is her way.

Instead, She finally allows the faintest of smiles to invade her face. When she speaks again, she could be joking. It's hard to tell, " I can't guarantee the safety of your jars if they're left unattended. "

@xfindingtrouble

Will it disturb her, Astoria wonders, if Cassandra knows that her guest identified her by scent alone? Or will it feel, sickly, strangely, like coming home? The sound of footsteps doesn't startle her; enough people have come in and out while she worked, some to bring her the supplies she requests, some out of curiosity, some out of suspicion. But she breathes in, her nostrils flare, she parts her lips and lets her jaw drop as if to allow the scent to hit the roof of her mouth, like a prowling cat trying to locate its prey.

(But for once, she is not on the hunt. She does not lay in wait, considering all the ways to play with her food before she devours it. She simply waits, and wonders.)

The footfalls get closer, and sound more familiar to her. Delicately, Astoria sniffs again, as if to ensure that Cassandra is alone. She has been here the past six hours, legs tucked under her as she sits on the floor, books stacked high beside her and several small jars beside her. They appear empty to the casual observer, and they appear empty even to her: the brilliant gossamer threads inside them have faded, and though it pains her to lose the material, she is in the midst of an experiment.

The pages beside her are covered in her scribbles. At the top of one page she's written the words is vampirism magic in origin? and underlined it twice; that she hasn't died of old age yet suggests not, though she wonders, not for the first time, if Sylas would have been undone if he spent too long here. (The gods certainly love their tricks, she thinks bitterly, even the men who wish to be gods.) It is a waiting game, now, observing how long the jars can remain near the orb before being removed without the magic being stolen from them permanently.

(Halfway down the page is another question, this one circled: Can it undo a resurrection?)

And the footsteps are closer still, now, and they stop for a moment when Cassandra no doubt sees that she's not alone. Astoria glances over her shoulder at her and offers her a smile, careful not to show too many teeth.

"I can step out if you'd like some privacy," she says, rather warmly, "though please be careful of my jars if you do?" And then her eyes flicker down to the small basket filled with things that it looks like have been taken at random from Percy's workshop, and her smile grows crooked. Someone has infuriated her, no doubt, and Astoria knows better than to try and defend her lover in the face of his sister's rage. "Percival," she asks, maybe a little wickedly, "or Taryon?"

[dchuntress]

i don't know if this is cuteness aggression or a symptom of severe mental illnesses but i just think that both helena wayne and helena bertinelli are so. throwable. literally. like i can just imagine you could throw them hard through a wall or whatever and both the huntresses would still come back to beat up your ass as if nothing happened. their elastic limit is infinite and they're bouncy balls and they're never going to break a bones they should get thrown at walls with the force of a thousand cannonballs 1 billion times

[catamaurrr-star]

neither spinning my blorbo in my head nor throwing them at the wall in my head like a bouncy ball but a secret third thing. poking them with a stick

[xfindingtrouble]

“can i kiss you?” / PERCIMAUK

Percy had opted to take the midnight watch. It was supposed to be a couple hours at most, they were the quietest parts of the night. The silence often left him with time to think, sometimes too hard. It was difficult not to be swept away in the thoughts buzzing & barking in his mind, trying to claw their way out through any means they could. perhaps this is why he was thankful when Molly couldn't sleep. it was a selfish view, but one he cannot deny.

he's found familiarity in them, a feeling he often tried to swat away before he could succumb to it. It was tricky to think about tomorrow, but Molly often left them thinking about how it could be better. How things could change & improve, whether it was unconventional or not. they had a kindness about them that Percy had not immediately seen. he had been too caught up in his frustration, in his irritation. But the longer they spent together, the more he craved them. It wasn't something he could deny, not tonight as he got another taste of that intimacy. It was sweet in his mouth, their shared suffering, the sense that everything was never as it seemed.

Tragic as the affliction of their dreams was, he is elated by their company. for their quips & insight as the stars pass overhead. Where Percy usually finds comfort in the sky's stability, his focus is centered on Molly instead. Percy finds his watch bleeding into theirs, the moon inching across the sky as it illuminated their closeness. Percy was unsure when they had moved so close together… but their shoulders were touching & then the tips of their fingers. It is hard not to melt into them, he wants to be engulfed in every sense of the word. It wouldn't be so terrible to be a part of Mollymauk Tealeaf, he muses. He is taken from his dreamy haze when he hears Molly's words fall from their lips ( "Can I kiss you? " )

when they ask, Percy has to take a moment to let Molly's words settle between them. He has to be sure that's what he heard, really & truly. That it wasn't another fantasy or another misunderstanding for them to navigate. he has to fight the instinct to push them away, to reject the undeniable want swelling in his stomach. a thousand excuses shift through his mind. Molly can't want this, Percy is scared, & his lips are too dry… those doubts become secondary when they are only a breath's width away.

So rather than answer, Percy takes it as an invitation. He nearly jumps out of his comfortable spot at their side to press his lips to theirs, savoring the moment. Breathing them in, melting into the blatant longing he feels at their side. He weaves his fingers in between theirs & he feels like his heart may jump out of his throat & into Molly's mouth.

So Percy pulls back, albeit reluctantly, his breath tighter than before. Percy chews his bottom lip, holding their hand too tight. He's afraid if he lets go, the moment will fade & he will wake. At last, he admits, " I was wondering when you'd ask. "

[starlit-wanderer]

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆

　　✦　　　.　　.　　　　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　★

Q: What is Charmcasting/ Charm Throwing?

A: It is a form of divination that uses any type of charm that you may find on a bracelet or another piece of jewelry-- such as earrings, or a necklace-- as well as any other small trinkets. These pieces of miniature odds and ends are collected and then used to perform fortune-telling or any other means of divination! You may draw them out of a bag, or throw them onto a mat! There are many different ways to cast and read charms, and it is all highly intuition-based and unique to each reader, as you are encouraged to build your own sets for casting!

⋆⁺₊⋆ Charmcasting as a divinatory art is: ⋆⁺₊⋆

☆ Versatile

☆ Extremely unique to each person

☆ Usually entirely custom-made

☆ Something that can be changed/added to/edited at ANY TIME

Each facet of this form of divination is wildly interchangeable and able to be reused in multiple different formats and setups with the same core pieces/charm set!!

What you need:

✦ Around a dozen or more charms and trinkets

✦ A place to throw them (or a bag/ box to draw from)

……..THAT'S IT!!

Star's Recommendations!:

♡ Interchangeable mats or cloths or bowls with different labeled sections or imagery on the mats that you also can assign meaning to.

♡ Dice (Different shapes, sizes, themes, and colors. Astrology dice!!)

♡ Runes or any other symbol sets

♡ Pieces of trinkets and charms that are extremely personal to you! This can be literally anything small- usually marble-sized, but can be anything from the size of a pea to the size of a small rubber bouncy ball!

So, what's in My charmcasting set? 🔮

♡ Side sets with a dozen or so of the same charm/object

🌟 I keep my multiple sets in drawstring pouches that I hold inside of a cylindrical wine carry-box that I used to keep my tall paintbrushes in! The rolled-up mats I have and plan on adding fit very well in there, wrapped around the bags in the center!

🌠 I cast my charms on lap trays with my mats or on a large flat surface like a table. If the space is smaller, I try to use spots with edges/walls so that my charms don't fall off and get lost! Dice Trays also work for this, and I'm planning on getting some for when I travel!

✨ I have Charm Sets for:

⚝ myself

⚝ others

⚝ spares

⚝ and a jumbo set im currently working on!

✨️ When casting, 10, 15, and 20 seem to be the numbers of charms i use per reading ✨️

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡⋆.・゜゜・✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆・゜゜・．⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩‧

Additional Resources: (these are NOT cited sources, just articles I found and liked and decided to include for more reading material/ alternate means of explanation)