#(we do not speak of Valentine’s Day with Lucid)

[gureishi]

ray + desperate touch? for a female mc, please! nsfw is most definitely allowed!

thank you in advance! :)

Thank YOU, and happy Valentine’s Day! <3 It’s horny-for-Ray hours, it seems. Always happy to oblige.

Nsfw warning, proceed with caution~

desperate touch (Ray)

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The first time you touch him, it is by accident.

He stands facing you, light eyes downcast; in the dimly-lit room, adorned with all the trappings of his fantasies, all you can see is him. Oh, but he’s close, closer than he’s been before.

“Thank you,” you murmur, accepting the bouquet he’s made for you—pastel-colored flowers, like the room, like his eyes, like your feelings. You take the flowers with both hands, and maybe you’re too eager, and maybe he holds on a little too long, and maybe it’s none of those things—but your thumb brushes the exposed skin of his wrist, above his pulse, right where his gloves end.

Ray jumps as though he’s been burned.

“Oh,” you say. You set the flowers aside, on the bed behind you—neat, beautiful, large. For a princess, which you certainly aren’t. For the incandescent version of you he has created in his mind.

“N-no, I…I’m sorry,” he stammers. He holds the hand you touched in his other one, clutching it to his heart. He gazes at you face now, as though he can’t help himself—he drinks you in. You bask in his eyes.

“The flowers,” you say, “are beautiful.” He looks like he wants to absorb you with his whole body. This time, when you touch him, it is on purpose.

You reach for him with a slow, cautious hand, certain he will flinch or back away or run. It seems to take a thousand years for you to reach him; his gaze follows your fingers, reverent, worshipful, as though he is in a dream.

So little of him is exposed, as though he has armed himself against the world, covered himself in layers—both real and imagined—that no one can penetrate. But you can, you think; and you touch his arm with a finger, just at the crook of his elbow. You feel a ripple go through his body; he inhales sharply, but this time, he does not move away.

Oh, and the way he looks at you—in Ray’s eyes, you are the moon calling the tides, the sun warming the earth.

“May I…touch you like this?” you ask him. Emboldened by his stillness, you curl your fingers around his arm; his coat is soft, thick, warm. Through it, you feel that he is trembling. A flower petal in the wind, you think.

“I…” he tries, and you wonder if anyone has ever touched him before.

“Will you tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable?” you ask him. “Please?” You find that now you are here you’ve gotten greedy. Night of half-sleep, twisted up in the sheets, your head full of him—fantasies of those thing, nervous fingers in your hair; those small, chapped lips ghosting over your cheek—it is overwhelming and heady and delicious and terrifying to finally be near him like this.

It seems your body is moving of its own accord: you’ve got both hands on him now, one on each arm. You can smell the flowery scent of his hair and see every line on his weary face. You drift your hands down, over his arms, toward his wrists—he is so very, very thin.

“I shouldn’t…be here,” he gasps, and you pause, eyeing him cautiously. But he doesn’t look afraid: his eyes have gone dark. He looks…hungry for you. “I’m not supposed to…”

“Do you want me to touch you, Ray?” you ask. And even as he hesitates his body drifts toward yours, his posture shifting, his feet inching him closer and closer; a moment, and your bodies will be pressed together. Your heart stops.

“You don’t…really want to touch me, do you?” he murmurs; he’s learning forward, so close, so close…

“I do,” you tell him; oh, if only you could say how much.

“I’m not, hah…someone who…”

His voice is cut off as one of you closes the distance; your hands are on his wrists, now, circling them gently, as your body presses up against his. His heartbeat overwhelms your senses; there is an inexplicable heat pooling in your belly as his hips push into yours, as if begging to be closer, closer…

You gasp. He has fallen silent; your face is level with his neck, and you feel the wild urge to take that pale, almost ethereal skin between your teeth. Your mind is blurry.

“R-Ray…” you stammer. It is almost unfathomable to be close to him like this; his heart is pounding so fast you are afraid he will simply float away, and you feel the way his hips tremble as you instinctively lean in, resting your face against his chest. Your lips just barely brush the base of his neck.

He makes a sound as though he is trying to speak, but his words come out an incomprehensible jumble, breathy and overwhelmed. And ah—as he shifts his hips, you cannot help but notice, even through all the layers of fabric, the evidence that his body is reacting to yours; there is an obvious bulge in his pants, pressing firmly, insistently into you.

Oh.

So he wants you.

You sneak a peak at his face, and he looks lost: his cheeks are red-hot, his eyes unfocused and cloudy.

Your bare toes curl against the warm, scratchy carpet. 

“Ray, can I…?” you ask, voice shaky, praying he’ll understand; you let go of one of his wrists, ghosting your hand across his torso, over his hip. He realizes what you are about to do; he stops breathing. “Can I?” you repeat. You slide your hand in between your bodies; there is heat built up already between your hips. 

Fascinated, you hover over him; the fabric of his pants is pulled taut, straining. Heat radiates off him. You wait for his permission.

“I…you…I should…I have to…” He is panting; trying his best.

“Shh,” you say; and again you press your lips to the base of his neck, and he hisses. “Do you want me to?”

“Y-you, I…aahh…o-of course I…” His hips shake: excited, desperate, barely contained.

You are both, you think, losing your grip on reality.

You press your hand against him, over his pants: hard, hot, tender, trembling. His whole body twitches and he makes a sound you’ve never heard before, a breathy, vulnerable moan—almost a whine.

You’ve never wanted someone to feel pleasure more desperately and wholeheartedly in your whole life.

You palm him again and he moans, giving into you, uncertain hands reaching for you, clutching at your hips. And it’s so easy to undo the button of his pants, slide down the zipper—and he is panting helplessly as you pull down around his hips, and he whines as your fingers graze his tip. You hold onto his hip with your other hand, bracing him, your forehead pressed against his shoulder—and we should move to the bed, cries your hazy mind, but there’s no time, and he is trying to speak, but no words are coming out.

“Please, will you let me do this?” you ask him, fingers skating over him, curling around his base. He whimpers. “Ray.” His head falls back, his legs shaking uncontrollably. “You’ve got to give me an answer,” you say. It is blinding hot, white hot, dessert hot inside your mind.

“…y-yes…” he gasps, at last, voice high-pitched and needy. “I…yes…p-please…”

Thank god you think as you wrap your hand around him at last. He is so warm, firm; you stroke along his length several times and he keens, hips questing forward, breath unsteady against your shoulder.

Has he been dreaming about this all along? you wonder in a brief moment of lucidity, before any rational thoughts trickles away. His pleasure is your pleasure—you are overcome by his trembling body and his delightful, needy sounds. His hands are on your arms now, cautious, needy, grasping for any part of you he can touch. You move faster now, encircling him with both hand, twisting your fingers gently inward as you slide up and down, enveloping him, cherishing him.

And he tries to warn you, garbled whimpers coming out of his mouth as he holds you more firmly than before—but you would never leave him like this, and you flutter your lips over his neck as you stroke him again, knowing it will be the last time, feeling something snap inside him as his body gives out and he comes, head falling onto your shoulder, gasping for air, legs barely holding him as he falls apart entirely.

He stills, after a moment; sapped, shaky. You kiss every bit of exposed skin you can reach: his neck, his jaw, his ear.

“Are you okay?” you whisper. Against your shoulder, you feel his head shift: a tiny nod. Your skin feels wet.

“You…” he murmurs, voice muffled and thick. “I…”

You hold his waist, half-supporting him, nuzzling his neck with your nose, your lips.

“I have you,” you tell him, meaning the way you are holding him now, the way you want to hold him in the future, the way you would run head-first into a fire for him without any hesitation. “If you let me, Ray, I will always want to be touching you.”

His hands shake. His head shifts. Another nod.

“…please,” he whispers.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06 @nad-zeta @hunterelys @pamakali @strwbryflvr @bootiful-face @mammonprotectionsquad @firelordtsuki @rebeckathefloof

#mystic messenger #ray #saeran choi #ray x reader #gureishi writes requests #vday vignettes #anon #spicy spaceship

[babysubinnie]

road to kingdom imagines masterlist

f - fluff                 ✨- requested a - angst             🕶 - working on it              e- emotional      🧩 - my favorites

mine - kino ft. hongseok (f/a)

hongseok is kino’s boyfriend but he hid it from you while you guys dated. hongseok finally comes back from his “trip” but now what? 

2 am runs - ko shinwon

shinwon picks you up at 2am and you guys go to a park while it rains constantly and heavily.

you work for me, not him - lee changyoon // e-tion (f/s?)

CEO!changyoon has a thing for you. he’s acting really weird on the first week of your new job as his secretary. 

dont talk - lee seungjoon // j-us (a) 🧩

as stray kids’ makeup stylist,  you’re very close to the boys, so when of course your ex shows up, they’re gonna make you talk to him even if they don’t know the back story.

you’re late - mizuguchi yuto (f) 

being stood up isn’t something that yuto did, but after 45 minutes maybe that’s what’s going to happen. he shows up 45 minutes late, the reservation is done, how is he going to make it up?

not jealous - kim hyojin (f, a little bit of a) 

hyojin has a study buddy even though he doesn’t even study with y/n. he’s tried to make y/n his girlfriend for a thousand years but nothing is going to make you change your mind.

whisper game - park minkyun (f)

remembering the past isn’t always fun but when it’s the happiest moment of y/n’s life, it’s the moment that minkyun knew he was going to be a dad.

why him? - son dongju (f, a)

son dongju always liked you, but when ravn finally makes his move on you, dongju finally snaps. 

sprite and patio chairs - lee keonhee (f)

keonhee’s been your boyfriend for two years but you’ve never met his parents or sisters but meeting his sister is the most nerve wracking thing that will ever happen.

i love you - kim youngjo (a, f, e)

saying i love you for the first time was not easy for youngjo, but it wasn’t easy for you especially since nothing came out of your mouth when it was your turn to speak. 

my type - yeo hwanwoong (f)

you’re a model, that models with loads of different people, but when you get the chance to model with yeo hwanwoong, that’s a chance that you would never miss out on.

don’t change the channel. - lee jangjun (f, a)

every ONE (lucid dream) performance, jangjun always has that one part that his looks are just breathtaking, and he changes the video while you admire that one part over and over. 

the real best friend - hong joochan (a)

best friend!joochan is starting to fall in love with this girl. she’s clearly a bitch but that one day when joochan comes in to talk to you about the feelings that you had for him, it’s actually to tell you he’s engaged.

dance with me - bong jaehyun (f)

dancing with jaehyun isn’t hard, well only when he starts nagging you about how you need to practice harder so that you guys can do a duo on stage on day together. there’s only one thing that makes you want to work harder.

run to me - choi sungyoon (f)

you and the twins got to be in the audience of golcha’s isac win for 60m and 400m relay. the twins always got babysat by the golden child boys so when they won, the twins congratulated the boys but not sungyoon.

my joochan - hong joochan (a,f)

you liked joochan more than anything in the world, but your dad made it clear that he forbade me from going out with him. when he gets fired from your dad, there’s not much you can do. 

do it, i dare you - kim jibeom (e)

being the fiancé of one of the biggest mafia bosses in korea isn’t easy, it’s actually quite difficult especially if his one mission is the worst one he could ever be assigned.

choi bomin as your boyfriend 

fire - bae hoyoung (f)

you’re friends with the 6 boys of verivery, your boyfriend being hoyoung. at the club, gyehyeon flirts with you, pissing hoyoung off so much that hoyoung needs to prove that you’re his.

24 hours - hong minchan (a?) 1 | 2 

fuckboy!minchan is known for breaking hearts, but everyday, he stops by your locker, stopping your heart, and of course, the girls of the school hate you for it.

we like a thunder - ju yeonho (f)

as their practice of thunder was shown to you even before a comeback was announced, you realized that your boyfriend yeonho isn’t the innocent boy you made him out to be.

don’t break my heart - jo gyehyeon (a)

you knew that when the time came, gyehyeon would break up with you. but when it actually happened, the only thing that you can do is to tell him no. it’s not going to happen.

make up for it - jo gyehyeon (f,a)

fuckboy!gyehyeon always takes girls on classic dates, the restaurant, then back to his house. but the one time he begged you to go out with him, was the best date you had ever experienced.

rainy days - lee hyunjae (f) 

hyunjae always went on dates with girls that were always ditching him just when he starts to fall for them. you’re his best friend, clearly in love with him.

stay with me - kevin moon (f)

your family always attacks you cuz you ‘don’t do your work’ so you leave the house. the only person you can go to is kevin’s and the boyz’ dorm.

rule number 7 - eric sohn (a, e) 1 | 2 🧩

the 7 rules that were one of the most important things in your friendship. when he breaks all 7 in a span of two days, especially when you’re head over heels for him, it’s gonna hurt more than anything. 

15 minute naps - kim younghoon (a, f)  ✨

fighting with younghoon isn’t a usual occurrence, but since he’s working so hard lately, you finally pop off at him but he freaks out and says things that are not something he usually would say.

complete me - kim younghoon (f)

ex- husband!younghoon you guys have a son but after the divorce, you guys haven’t talked since then, but your son runs away to his house, it makes you realize how much you miss each other.

surprise baby - kim sunwoo (f)

long distance is hard and sunwoo loves throwing tantrums when his members bother him. the four idiots (jacob, juyeon, changmin and hyunjae) bought you a ticket for you to come to korea as a surprise for sunwoo’s birthday.

the last - jacob bae (f, a)

jacob was the sweetest man alive, once you found out why you never went out for dates, your relationship was on the line. when you started helping jacob, there was one thing that the boys were hiding from you, the last mission.

most wanted - ji changmin (f)

y/n is a private investigator that is amazing at everything she does, including getting her first love back. but the only thing wrong with that? he’s the most wanted thief.

vending machines - lee hyunjae (f)

first day at creker as the new makeup manager? yikes. but y/n is tough enough to do whatever she wants to. the first time you see hyunjae? was something that you couldn’t even believe. he was insanely gorgeous.

lee hyunjae and period cramps 

count 1, 2 - oh sungmin // jerome (f,e)

jerome always had feelings for you, but you and chihoon were dating. he wanted to confess and when he did, how would you reply?

golden hour - kim jeyou (f)

TOO put you into a car with jeyou, it turns out of be a drive in movie where he finally confessed to you after donggeon tried for a long time to separate you two

my thoughts - cho chanhyuk 1 | 2 

soulmate!chan,, one day you wake up with a guy’s thoughts, you guys have never met, neither of you have social media to find each other, with only his voice to find your soulmate.

world klass fuckboy - song donggeon (f)🧩

rich boy!donggeon is known for being able to get into a girl’s heart but also the way out. he knew exactly what he was doing, but when he’s supposed to be your fiance? that’s something you really don’t want to get into.

be my valentine - choi chihoon (f)  ✨

j.you was your fake boyfriend so that the two of you guys could get chihoon jealous or something along those lines. so when chihoon does a whole bunch of romantic things, that was a hint he might know about the act.

cold - choi jisu (f)

you went to your boyfriend’s house but he was acting really weird so when you guys finally got a chance to talk, you realized, that last night, you cheated on him. with kyungho.

#pentagon smuts #pentagon fluff #onf fluff #onfimagines #pentagon imagines #oneus imagines #oneus fluff #golden child imagines #golden child fluff #the boyz #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #verivery imagines #verivery fluff #too imagines #too fluff

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

Multiples of 6 for the OC asks!

AYYYYYYYYYY THANK YOU

i think for this one i’ll answer each question with three ocs for comparison >:V

(under the cut because, predictably, It Got Long)

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6. Do they smoke or do they hate smoking. 

(origfic, unnamed superhero verse)

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Neil: won’t touch cigarettes, but has been known to smoke a bowl every now and then when his anxiety gets the best of him. he doesn’t like doing it--he’s internalized some pretty negative shit about how it means he’s a trashy, weak-willed loser who can’t handle reality--but since meeting nads and then beth, he’s eased up a lot on the guilt and is able to relax more.

Nads: smokes cigarettes, but only if they’re stolen. she’s got an active lifestyle to say the least and she doesn’t want to risk fucking up her lungs, so that’s her compromise. my god does she love her weed though

Beth: smokes cigarettes to take the edge off her anxiety when she has to go outside during the day. she knows they’re worse for her than weed, but she’s wary enough of her liminal space powers without imagining what they might do if she got stoned.

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12. What’s an outfit they’d despise wearing Vs one they’d love wearing? Draw it! 

(Tales of Arcadia; i’m godawful at drawing clothes so i’ll just describe them as best i can ashdflkshdfkl)

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Liyen: loves comfortable, understated, professional-looking masc clothes, usually in muted shades of gray, blue, or black. give them a fuzzy turtleneck sweater and black pants and they’re happy. meanwhile they’d be SUPER uncomfortable in loud, clashing colors or anything too femme. 

Schommag: Does Not Like Clothes That Will Get in Her Way, also not a big fan of dressing femme with very few exceptions (the right Little Black Dress, for example). give her what she needs to get around the woods and stay out of her way. that said she does love showing off her muscles, so she wears a lot of tank tops and sports bras (and sometimes no top at all, if she can get away with it). 

Oryalv: VERY femme, particularly business casual. this man loves his pantsuits. meanwhile his nightmare is middle-aged high school coach aesthetic. put him in a t-shirt and khakis and he’ll start pouring smoke like a teakettle

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18. Have they ever committed a crime? How? Why? If not, then what’s their opinion on crime?

(origfic, unnamed VALENTINE DON’T DO THAT verse)

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Valentine: has been made complicit in a lot of their family’s cutthroat-noble shadiness growing up, is otherwise a law-abiding sort up until they jump off the slippery slope and get the war crime ball rolling in earnest. Whoops

Edmund: has gotten into plenty of cutthroat-noble shadiness of his own volition, thank you very much. unlike valentine he’s a whole lot more inclined to go UHHH and pull up when it comes to war crimes

Marcel: LOVES war crimes. LOVES them. would marry them if he could. lucky for him he’s captain of the guard and has plenty of opportunities. will otherwise use the law as a bludgeon but i don’t think he’s too bothered about it for its own sake

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24. Mcdonalds, subway, or KFC?

(Final Fantasy Tactics A2)

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Nebilim: subway, grease is sensory hell and makes him sick and it’s the easiest place to avoid it. the number of variables per sandwich make him anxious, but if he has to pick one then fuck it, it’s worth not putting grease in his body.  

Moovry: loves grease with all his somehow-still-functioning heart, would bring his own beer keg to KFC and refuse to leave til he’s finished his fourth bucket of chicken

York: MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS. gets the happy meal and then uses the toy to test their black magic minispells. we hardly knew ye, beyblade 

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30. Have they ever dreamed about another oc?

(Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, taxidermy/doll horror cw)

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Faerna: has dreams about missing his mother sometimes. he hasn’t seen her in a long time, and for all he knows she thinks he’s dead, but he can’t bring himself to go back and look for her when he doesn’t know if she’ll approve of the life he’s chosen for himself. for all he talks himself up, not everyone’s happy to have a thief and a conman for a son.

SkekNev: has recurring dreams about the victims of their taxidermy coming back to life. less of a HOLY SHIT THE DOLLS ARE ALIVE nightmare for them, more of an anger/anxiety nightmare because stop that, stop having autonomy, i made you like this for a reason.

Aivne: dreams a lot about her little siblings. outright nightmares, semi-lucid rehearsals of danger scenarios, memories from before they lost their parents.

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36. If they’re nonhuman, what’s their opinion on humans?

(origfic, faeverse)

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Aislinng: vampire/incubus, more specifically A Dracula Lookin Motherfucker. depending on how much of a bastard he is in a given au, humans are usually somewhere between ‘fun to dazzle with my Supernatural Charms’ and ‘boring. where are the interesting people to torment’

Meadowsweet: rabbit faun. depending on which of the two wildly different versions of him we’re talking about, he either treats humans with the same goodwill as anyone else who might need his healing, or looks down on them and considers them fair game for whatever evil bastard he’s pining after this week.

Agaric: aislinng’s son with a forest spirit, so fuck if i know what to call him at this point. humans tend to find his brand of quiet, aloof awkwardness either offputting or endearing; either one is mortifying, and he’d mostly rather just keep to himself. 

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42. What’s their standpoint when it comes to washing hands?

(origfic, bumfuck nowhere cult)

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Cristina: obsessed with cleanliness, washes her hands constantly, crissy please you live in the desert

Skinner: if my hands are clean i can’t wipe them on cristina’s robes now can i

Rosemary: who needs to wash hands when you’ve got tentacles ;)

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48. If they were defeated fairly in battle, would they accept and move on or throw a fit?

(origfic, slasher movie slaughterhouse dimension)

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Maggie: will stay down and let you think she’s beaten, until you take your eyes off her for a second too long. then she’ll go for your hamstring

Dee: will accept it and move on, but will also try to make you feel like winning wasn’t really important anyway. maggie loves her dearly but she is kind of infuriating to everyone else

Esau: is delighted when somebody beats him, because if they’ve gotten that far they’ve committed at least one horrific atrocity and will have to live with that forever (if not embrace it). the real treasure was the corruption and PTSD we found along the way. no wonder maggie kind of hate-connects with him, he reminds her of dee lmao

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54. Have they ever lost anyone?

(misc origfic)

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Gray: lost the person who summoned them, gave them form, and taught them how to speak. once she died, all they knew was that she’d stopped coming, and that their only friend--their only contact with the world outside the cave--was gone. they’re there alone for a long time before a hitchhiker stumbles across them, and now they’re clingy as fuck and terrified of being abandoned again.

Ashdown: lost her wife the spring before her story begins, which left her so depressed she didn’t bother flying south for the winter with everyone else. she does eventually find love again, after coming to terms with the fact that what she’s lost isn’t the only thing she can ever have.

Jake: lost his older brother as a kid, which might or might not be why some fuck haunting their own fursuit recruits him to help with their unfinished business.

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[DYING WHEEZE]

thank you again for the questions!!! i have. so many ocs. SO many ocs, and it’s always fun to get a chance to trot a bunch of them out, especially with a good range of questions like these :D

#the golden ghost #tales of arcadia #dark crystal age of resistance #asks #tag memes #ocs #my ocs #toa tag #origfic tag #my origfic #final fantasy tag #smoking cw #weed cw #dolls cw #origfic group tag #because there's too many to tag all of them on this post asdhfslkdfhsdf

[introvertguide]

Some Like It Hot (1959); AFI #22

The current movie under review is the romantic comedy that is occasionally interrupted by a violent gangster film, Some Like It Hot (1959). Directed by Billy Wilder, this films stars Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon, and Marylin Monroe. The movie was nominated for 5 Academy Awards including Best Director and Best Actor, but ended up with only one trophy for Costume Design. It faired much better at the Golden Globes where it took home wins for Best Actor for Jack Lemmon, Best Actress for Marylin Monroe, and Best Picture - Musical or Comedy. This film is an interesting one as far as plot and tone since it incorporates a Chicago mafia massacre with men cross dressing. It points out how women have to deal with constant excepted sexism followed by a cross dressing Jack Lemmon forgetting to allow his sugar daddy to lead when they salsa. I really enjoy Billy Wilder films, especially with a great cast, because he takes scenes that should not go together and weaves them around a plot and it generally comes out amazing. Lets me do the plot summary and you will see what I mean:

SPOILER ALERT!!! NOT AS BAD AS NORMAL BUT THIS STILL GIVES A LOT AWAY SO CHECK OUT THE MOVIE FIRST!

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The movie starts in Prohibition Era Chicago, specifically in February 1929. Some members of the mafia have a secret speaking easy that is fronted by a funeral parlor. Somebody rats them out to the police and the place gets raided. During the raid, we are introduced to Joe (Tony Curtis) and Jerry (Jack Lemmon) who play in the band. They see the police coming and run away which means they don’t get paid and need to find another gig. 

Joe tricks a secretary that is sweet on him into using her car and they have to go to a garage to pick up. Wrong place and wrong time. They walk in on the mobsters killing the guy that ratted them out and are witnesses. They need to get out of Chicago and hide or they will be assassinated. The killing is based on the Valentine’s Day Massacre and it is in all the papers. Joe and Jerry take a job with an all women’s band since the group is going on the train to perform in Florida. This means that they will have to dress as women to blend in.

Once on board the train, Joe and Jerry (now going by Josephine and Daphne) mingle with all the pretty girls and both take a liking to a particular ukulele player named Sugar Kane (Marylin Monroe). It turns out that she drinks and has issues with her family as well as having problems with men always using her for her body. The guys need to stay in character and not get fired so they behave until they get to their hotel in Miami.

Once there, Joe and Jerry try to make moves on Sugar, however, Joe is the winner when he shows up at the beach dressed like a millionaire and claims he is the heir to Shell Oil. Jerry, on the hand, runs into an actual millionaire named Osgood Fielding III who has a yacht called the New Caledonia. Jerry keeps the millionaire busy dancing all night while Joe takes Sugar over to the empty yacht and sleeps with her.

The next day, it turns out that the mobsters that are looking for Joe and Jerry are at the hotel for a “Friends of Italian Opera” convention. It turns out to be a meeting place for a national crime syndicate and the protagonists need to flee. The bigger syndicate murder the mobsters that want to kill Joe and Jerry...but once again the two witness the assassination and are desperate to escape. Jerry calls his millionaire “boyfriend” and Osgood picks up Joe, Jerry, and Sugar to help them escape on his yacht. As they leave, Jerry reveals that he is actually a man and instead of rejecting him, Osgood simply says “Nobody’s perfect.”

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Watching this film and knowing the history of Marylin Monroe makes me a little sad because she comes across as the this vivacious (but a little dumb) powerhouse but was actually drunk, out of her mind on barbiturates, pregnant with a stillborn, and deeply depressed. She is some kind of actress to have her screen presence mismatch her actual feelings so greatly. This is one of the few movies that I wish I knew a little less because I spent a lot of time while she was on screen trying to tell if she was lucid or not (hint: if you look close, you can tell that she wasn’t).

This film is actually a remake of a 1935 French comedy, which explains some of random situations, and I have to director Billy Wilder because American audiences have generally had difficulty with French comedy. People in the US don’t tend to mix their serious violence into their comic set pieces, but Wilder made it work. If you think about it, there were a lot of comic chase scenes in which men who have just demonstrated their ability to commit cold blooded murder are running after a couple of men in drag. We shouldn’t laugh at a woman with such an alcohol problem that she can’t hold a job and is too stupid to even be able to hide it better. And yet I found myself smiling through the whole movie. 

My favorite thing about this film is actually Jack Lemmon. This is the earliest film of his that I have seen and I think he is fantastic. One of my very favorite actors, his work in this film and The Apartment (1960) made me a fan for life. He is actually third billed in Some Like It Hot, but I feel like he steals the show. 

This film flew right in the face of the Hays Code, since it showed two on-screen group assassinations, a busty Marilyn Monroe barely staying in her clothes, a one night stand in which a man tricks a helpless woman, homosexual undertones, and featured cross dressing. A film with all these aspects should not have existed in America under the code, but this one was nominated for five Academy Awards. None of these things seem like that big of a deal anymore, and the film laughably made the BFI list for Films for Children Up to the Age of 14. It’s now though of as a good kids movie.

Marilyn Monroe exudes confidence and sexuality in her role despite all of her problems. She also is kind of a hero for many in that she embodies that curvy women can be knockouts when they express that confidence. She never had a flat stomach and was quite overweight due to her pregnancy. She had measurements of 36-22-36 but was only 5′5″ meaning she was very chesty with very wide hips. She was quite the opposite of other beauties like Twiggy, Kate Moss, or Olivia Newton-John, and for this Marilyn basically stands alone. She was one-of-a-kind and I wish she would have had a happier life.

So does this film belong on the AFI top 100? Absolutely. It is nothing but star power in a crazy movie that helped take down the Hays Code and won a bunch of awards in the attempt. It is a great piece of Americana that deserves to be scene. Would I recommend it? Yes and I would say it is best enjoyed without doing any research beforehand. It is quite the ride in that so many things happen to the point that you wonder if it will end well for all the characters. That is the work of Billy Wilder and it is well worth watching.

#Marylin Monroe #jack lemmon #tony curtis #Billy Wilder #some like it hot #black and white #comedy #mafia #cross dressing #introvert #extrovert #massacre #hays code #academy award winner #AFI top 100

[burytherosemarysprigs]

history student falls in love with astrophysics student

A/N: So, keaten st. james is one of my favourite poets and every time I read this poem, I am reborn. it’s soo beautiful. anyways when i thought of astrophysics, i was like yes. peter could most definitely be interested in it so yeah. this was born. also im also lovesick now.

/ Masterlist /

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: ‘history student falls in love with astrophysics student’ --- Inspired by the poem of the same name by Keaton St. James.

...

Peter realized he was in love with you as you both sat against the willow tree – backs pressed against the tree bark and limbs tangled in a mess of uncomfortable angles as the quiet settled around you both.

‘Listen,” You whispered, shoulder nudging his so he turns his head to face yours as you stare above at the willow leaves swaying in the delicate spring breeze, dewy and delicate, “Nine hundred and fifty years before Jesus was a child shaking willow leaves out of his tangled curls, the author of the song of Solomon wrote: behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.”

Your words are a tangent against the silence and Peter gives a small shake of his head as a small smile spreads across his face.

“I – “

“What I’m trying to say is that,” You cut him off, twisting around in his arms, the plucked grass lily that you were previously twirling around in your fingers was now being tucked behind his ear as you reached out to frame his jaw in your hands to bring yourself impossibly closer to him, “In this universe which sculpted itself from a baptism of fire, I am the moon swept up by your tenderness.”

Your words are ever so soft, ever so loving that Peter thinks he’s dreaming so he tightens his hold around your waist just to make sure you’re real. That you’re sitting here, thumbs tracing circles on the underside of his jaw, nose almost bumping his as time slips away – quietly. So quietly, that everything that isn’t skin, and bone feels non-existent. Everything that isn’t you doesn’t matter.

Peter doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say so he does what he can by sliding his hands at the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair and you melt in his touch as he pulls you into a kiss. Eyelids fluttering close and you almost sigh because it’s dizzying.

Peter realized he was in love with you then because there was always something more to you than your words. They were almost untouchable, but there was something softer underneath, something more tender. Something that felt a lot like love.

…

He pulls away from you.

Lips bruised in hues of darker pinks and the sensation of something unreachable resting between him and you.

His hands are tangled in your hair and creeping up your thigh.

Your dress is red, and it’s crinkled against the chipped cream wall you’re pressed against and you almost release a whine at the loss of contact.

“Peter – “

He shushes you, a finger lightly pressed against your lipstick smudged lips until he moves his hand comes to cradle your face and you wrap your arms tighter against his neck while your legs tighten around his waist as you quietly gaze at him and that’s when you suddenly laugh.

Somehow, in the dark room of a stranger’s house as the drumbeats resonate off of the walls while the moonlight streams in through the open curtain, you find humour laced in between the thin walls, between the space of you and Peter, and Peter. Oh, God. Peter.

He’s looking at you with a look in his eyes that you want to ingrain it in your mind – you want to replay it over and over again till you’re lovesick with every delicate curve – from the way his lips are parted open and his eyes are a honey brown in the sombre light falling on his.

He manages to run a hand through his hair and sleek curls fall into his face as he sighs.

“You don’t know,”

He whispers. It’s small and it’s soft, unsure if he knows what he’s saying, and you furrow your eyebrows in response.

“What?” Voice coming out quieter than you intended because it feels like Peter didn’t hear you.

“That you’ve got me dreaming foreign words: gravity, ellipsis, perigee, until all I can think about is becoming anchored into orbit around the saltwater-green landscape of your laughter.”

“Oh.” You breathe out.

Suddenly it feels like a lucid dream. Pressed against a wall by a boy who reminds you of hope and the only thing that separates him from the nothingness is the moon at its fullest, dancing shadows on his face as you pull him closer to you until the taste of cherry wine and a hint of whiskey fogs your mind as you both try to reach for something unreachable.

…

It’s quiet in the corner of the party that you’ve occupied, mindlessly sipping on your glass of rosé in your disoriented haze. You’re observing the dim lights of the room and the small chatter that occupies it – and it all seems so distant. The valentine’s day balloons, chocolate candies and tawdry, pink hearts stuck on the bleak walls seem so indistinct in your mind.

“Hey.” Arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a familiar chest as Peter’s lips ghost over your ear – sending shivers up your spine and you almost lose grip on your wine glass.

“Hi.” You’re sure he doesn’t hear your breathy whisper in the blaring music that fills the room, but he takes hold of your free hand to spin you around to face him and you somehow manage to not sigh at the sight of his face – soft brown eyes and smooth skin, glowing off the LED pink lights.

“What’re you doing alone in the corner of the party?” His voice is laced with amusement as he watches you lean against the wall to face him with a matching smile.

“Just thinking.” You’re tipsy and feeling dopey as you watch Peter laugh in response, his eyes crinkling in the corner and Adam’s apple bobbing.

“About what?”

About you. About today. About everything. But you don’t know how to put that into words for him to understand, so you only lean in closer to him and he dips his head to listen to you clearer.

“Plato of ancient Greece wrote that the souls we each have now are only halves. That in a frenzy of blood, Zeus severed us from each other, so we rely on the blind tugging of our hearts.” You recite this like it’s written on the back of your hand and with such irrevocability that Peter can only nod as you grasp on the collar of his dress shirt and your noses almost bump each other’s.

“You say my name and I want to knit my bones into your bones,” There’s a hint of desperation in your voice as you speak. “Smooth away the boundaries of our heartbeats.”

Until the only thing that makes sense is you and me.

…

It’s the stillness of a quiet winter’s day that has both you and Peter cocooned in a bed, mindlessly drawing shapes on each other’s skin and warm sweaters pooling between both of you as the textbook on ‘Classic Civilizations’ is discarded on the floor next to the foot of the bed and the textbook on ‘Celestial Mechanics’ is left unopened on the wooden desk in the corner of the room as the beauty of everything frozen in frost stills the room. Both of you are immersed in the comfort of the silence until Peter raises his head – resulting in his untamed curls to flop around and you shift in his grasp to try to face him better.

“Do you trust me?”

It confuses you. His voice is raspy and deep, and the words are obscuring.

“What do you mean?”

He smiles. But it’s not like any other smile of his that you remember – this ones’ oddly sentimental that it feels almost lovesick.

“What I’m trying to say is that,” He pauses, as if trying to find some meaning. Some purpose in what he’s about to say. “If the temperature inside those wild pockets of interstellar dust hits right near absolute zero, carbon monoxide and dihydrogen molecules condense together in the dark nebula to form stars.”

He knows how dizzying his words make you and you’re almost in a daze.

“And, if you’re ready, I want to make you shiver like that.”

...

Le Fin,

so how was it??

should I do more poetry prompts?

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #marvel #marvel series #poetry #spilled prose #peter parker fluff #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagines #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader

[eddisfargo]

CoMC Chapter 100!!!

CHAPTER 100

The Apparition 

17 minutes

CHAPTER 100, Y’ALL! How often do you get to read the hundredth chapter of a book? Especially a book with normal-length to actually-quite-long chapters! 

So we start by saying Valentine is unrecovered but under tight security. She’s constantly supervised except at the end of the night when her father is given the key. (Oh, good! That’s a relief!) Next line: “Yup, only her stepmother and brother have access to her room.” GAH. So no one’s allowed within poisoning range except the murderer.

But wait! Among the myriad apparitions poor sick Valentine sees at all times, one of them seems to be real! And it’s… The Count of Monte Cristo! Who immediately spills all of his carefully guarded beans, to my surprise. “Hello yes it’s me I’m here to protect you on account of my lil buddy Max. I bought the house next door and I’ve been hiding in the library for four days without sleeping watching everyone who comes into your room, then when she--I mean, the person who could of course be any gender--poisons you every night I immediately switch it out for my magical red potion, and that’s why you’re not dead. It’s been torture for me so I’d really appreciate a ton of gratitude, kthx.” 

And Valentine’s like “holy crap here’s a ton of gratitude! I was scared of you but you seem really nice and you said the magic word (Maximilian), plus you drank the thing first to prove you hadn’t just poisoned me yourself, which was definitely a possibility ngl.” 

And he’s like “OK it’s midnight! That means the murderer’s about to come in and murder you some more! You’re totally lucid now so you get to see who it is, but DON’T MOVE OR SPEAK or she--I mean the person--might kill you before I can save you.” 

OK! Time to find out… WHO THE MURDERER IS!!!! (I mean he could’ve just told her, but I guess show don’t tell, amirite?) 

#Eddis Reads Monte Cristo #count of monte cristo #spoilers

[megadextrious]

Stolen from @daftpunkythrash and @gmdhc

Are you having a good day today?

Tbh not really. My head hurts and I wanted to go for a walk but it’s raining

What is one thing you wish you could tell your younger self?

Please for fucks sake take care of yourself, cancer really sucks!!! Also ditch some of those loser friends!

If you could only show someone one song to describe yourself, which one would you choose?

Daft Punk - Touch

What’s one song you like that people wouldn’t expect you to like?

Dirty Heads - Sloth’s Revenge

What are your go to shoes?

I’ve been secretly stealing the same exact pair of shoes from Walmart every few months because I’m a broke bitch. They’re like these cheap black slip-ons. So fucking comfortable

Do you have any pictures/posters in your room? What are they?

I used to before I moved back to ca, and then had to move back to Fl again... I sorta gave up, now all I have is a daft punk poster and this huge space tapestry by my bed, and a pennywise poster on my door.

Favorite software?

photoshop for sure

Favorite nail polish color

Gold 😉

Favorite spice or herb?

Hhhmmmmm.... I really like coriander

Have you/can you lucid dream?

I haven’t been able to lately but I used to be able to recognize when I was dreaming all the time because I couldn’t read or see my reflection in my dreams

Summer or winter?

Winter, I hate sweating. I hate Florida summers. I hate it here.

If you could relive one day in your life, would you? Which would you relive?

I have two answers to this; Valentine’s Day when I was 24. My ex and I were hanging out again because neither of us had anybody on Christmas and kinda spent the next few weeks together. Anyways, he gave me a couple painkillers and we walked to this Chinese restaurant and ate super dank food all high, then went home and had incredible sex and oral and then we watched Harry Potter movies all night. That was one of the best days of my life.

Otherwise I would go back to when I was 14 and saw cky live for the first time. After the show I got to meet all the guys but when I went up to Deron Miller I was so nervous that I couldn’t even speak. I had worshipped that guy for a long time and was so overwhelmed, so I just snapped a photo and ran off. I regret it so much. I should have said something. Other than that, I had an amazing time. Best show Ever, maybe tied with Robert Plant.

Favorite historical era?

Hhhmmmmmmm......... well, I’ve always liked the 60s and 70s, but recently I’ve been interested in the early 1900s, and the 1700s. The French Revolution was super interesting, as was the American revolution. I don’t understand why we can’t all come together and challenge our oppressors anymore... come on, guys. We are the 99% ffs.

Common misconceptions people make about you?

The stereotypes about someone like me are endless.

((( i tag whoever would like to do this!!! have fun! )))

[marquisoforder]

A kingdom by the sea

In honor of MerMay heres a Malec Mer AU none of you asked for

Read on AO3

.

It was many and many a year ago,   In a kingdom by the sea...

.

“Kingdom of Idris has angered a foe they have never encountered before. It falls on the shoulders of the young crown prince to battle the evil hidden beneath the silent waves of a deadly ocean.”

.

The sea was undead.

Though it had appeared alive like a monster with a thousand watery tentacles rising up, nothing about the nature of this stormy sea warranted the word ‘Alive’, in description of it. The malicious winds had acted the part of a necromancer and brought the smooth sleeping ocean to desecrated life and given it the rage of a thousand drowned warriors. And as the fates would have it, the good ship Cassiel had found herself trying to navigate her way through these enraged waves, crashing overboard and doing their damned best to drag her under. And standing atop the main deck of this ill-fated vessel was a young sailor, barely out of boyhood with the subtlest hint of a dark stubble on his otherwise smooth face, on his very first voyage across the sea. And unknowing to him and everyone else abroad, his very last as well. The boy was trying his best to act brave, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. There were tears in his eyes as he tugged at a rope with all his might, in an attempt to obey the captain’s orders and hold the sails. He had seen his fellow sailors falling over and drowning. Heard the scream of Old Tom as he lost his footing and went tumbling over the rails. But the boy had not lost his balance or grip. Yet. The waves tossed the ship around as if it was nothing but a plaything. As the boy struggled with the rope, it seemed that finally his luck had run out as he slipped on the wet deck and fell over into the dark and churning sea beneath. For one infinite moment the boy was suspended in limbo, falling through air, feeling weightless and breathless. Then he crashed into the water, his clothes weighed him down and all he could taste feel and unfortunately breathe, was salt water. He was drowning and there was absolutely no hope in Hell for him when a piece of driftwood jabbed him in the ribs. With the last bout of strength that often came over the dying and the desperate, he grabbed it, hoping against hope to stay afloat as he broke the surface of the water and gasped in a lungful of fresh air. The boy’s luck had not run out yet.

Or so it seemed, until the his head went under once again. This time it was a quick and unpredictable motion. Almost as if something, someone, had dragged him down. After a second of initial fright at drowning, the boy’s mind came to a strange state of lucid alertness, making his closed eyes snap open, and what he beheld made him exhale what little air he had breathed, in one unfortunate silent scream. Holding him down with an arm around his neck was a man of ethereal beauty; wild black hair framing sharp features on a smooth golden face. The boy noticed luminous necklaces adorning his bear chest and his lips were curled up in to a sharp and bright smile. Even as his grip tightened around the boy’s neck, his smile never wavered. And as the final bit of air left his lungs and merciless salt water began to fill the boy’s lungs, he cast his eyes downwards, unable to look in to this angelic face of death, and witnessed a fresh horror.

Where the man’s legs would usually have been, there was no such appendages at all but one long tail of a thousand shimmering scales. The boy’s breathless struggle ceased, and beside him, the merman laughed.

.

.

The council is abuzz with dread murmurs. It seems as if everyone has something to say but nobody has the courage to say it out loud. Perhaps if they were at least a little courageous, there would not have been a tragedy to whisper about in the first place. Alexander Lightwood thinks bitterly and sighs. He is not too fond of his father’s Council, but as the Crown Prince and the Lord Commander he is duty bound to appear whenever the Council is in session and lately, they have been forced to gather with increasing frequency.

“This is the third ship we lost this week!”

Lord Treasurer Blackwell speaks a little too loud for Alexander’s liking. There is an accusatory edge to his words and Alexander is sharp enough to catch the quick glimpse of disapproval that flashes in his Father, the King’s eyes.

“We are quite well aware, Lord Blackwell,” Lady Inquisitor Herondale’s wizened voice holds much sarcasm as she peers at the tall man from behind her half-moon glasses. “There is no need to raise your voice. All of us here know how to add numbers.”

Alexander cracks a smile at the old woman’s words. Imogen Herondale might not be a pleasant companion but she certainly was an adept politician and a valuable ally. Alexander had grown up watching her rise through ranks in a court dominated by powerful men and held a respect for her unwavering determination and unparalleled cunning.

She also happened to possess the second biggest army of trained foot soldiers in the Kingdom of Idris. Second only to the Army of the Crown. The Herondale army was led by young lord Jonathon, a boy close to Alexander’s age and whom the King had wisely appointed as the Sworn Shield to Prince Alexander on the day the boy turned sixteen.

Whoever held the House of Herondale in this political game, held Idris.

“Wouldn’t it be wiser for us to avoid the sea routes where these accidents happened?” Alexander knows young Lord Lovelace, newly appointed Lord Physician, knows of sea fare as much as he knew about war fare, which is to say absolutely nothing. Yet he was trying to help which was more than what could be said for the other bickering lords.

“It’s not quite possible, Lord Lovelace,” Alexander glances at Lord Admiral Branwell, a red headed man of strong build who nods at the young prince before returning his gaze to the map on the table, his eyes fixed on the patch of blue that marked the Pentagram of Doom, the ocean area where all the Idris Vessels and their crews were meeting their untimely doom. “The closest trade routes to six of our biggest trade partners cut through the Pentagram, we don’t have the time or the resources to send our fleets around the Adamas Islands just so they will miss the Pentagram. We have to find another way.”

His father sighs and rubs his temple.  Losing ships, both trade vessels and military ones, at this rate would mean a serious threat to the Kingdom’s economy as well as its security. The Fleet of Idris was famous for their ruthless battle strategies and large numbers. But if they lost half their best ships to the Pentagram, rival kingdoms would smell their weakness from miles away, probably resulting in all-out war.

“What is causing these sudden storms?” The king asks finally, his tone stuck somewhere between a question and a complaint. “This is not the usual time of the year when such storms happen!”

“You know what is causing them, Your Grace,”

The voice that speaks up is one that Alexander is not used to hearing at the Council meetings, even though the speaker was never absent at said meetings. Lady Gray introduced herself as a healer and a wise woman, but everybody knew there was more to her than that. She had appeared in the court around the time Alec was about ten years old and his father had hired her immediately. Rumors said that she was something more than human, something from the myths and legends. She neither dismissed nor confirmed them, remaining a constant mystery of King Robert’s Court.

“What are you implying, Lady Gray?”

“These freak storms started to happen after the Rebellion, your Grace.” The healer spoke in calm and quiet tones. “And we all have heard about what that rebel Morgenstern did hidden in his castle to gain power.”

“If you are talking about the rumors about the creatures of the Downworld, its just a vile story spread to demoralize our armies!” King Robert speaks a little too strongly and Alexander catches a secret look being passed between Lady Herondale and Lord Branwell, almost as if they knew more than they were letting on about the rumors that stated Valentine Morgenstern had summoned creatures from a world unknown and experimented on them until they yielded him some sort of magical power in combat and prolonged his life. “They are nothing but a myth! Morgenstern had no special power about him or his armies!”

Lady Gray gazes at the King for one long minute of sizzling anticipation but sits back in her chair without another word, but her words and her look had caused the Council to break into nervous murmurs again, and Alexander himself feels oddly ominous about the situation and suspicious about his father’s sudden lashing out as well as the look that passed between Lady inquisitor and Lord Admiral. Alexander hadn’t been the one to lead the troops against Valentine in his castle, but he knew both his father and Lord Branwell had been there and they seemed to have witnessed something that warranted utmost secrecy if even Alexander wasn’t privy to it.

“We’ll discuss this again when we gather next week, I expect all of you to come forward with a plan to avoid more such tragedies.” His father sounds resigned as he waves a hand and dismisses the Council. “Lady Inquisitor, Lord Admiral and Lady Gray, please remain behind.”

At that moment Alexander knows there is more to this than what meets the eye.

#this is like little mermaid meets game of thrones #yes i included henry branwell in this cause my man deserves to e in more fics #alec ligthwood #mermay2019 #Dee's drabbles #magnus bane #shadowhunters #tsc #fic #tmi #tid #henry branwell #tessa gray #Robert Lightwood #Jace Herondale #imogen herondale #tw : death

[sarkos]

The Last Words of Dutch Schultz

Statements made by Arthur (Dutch  Schultz) Flegenheimer were taken down by a Newark police stenographer, F. J.  Lang. The notes covered a period from about 4 o'clock Thursday afternoon until  Schultz died. During that period he was delirious most of the time, but lucid  at intervals. A transcript of all he said follows:

Schultz at this time was irrational,  suffering with a fever of 106 degrees and a bullet in his stomach. Sergeant  Luke Conlon and other detectives from Newark police headquarters were at his  bedside. One of the officers had a newspaper.

(Schultz noticed newspaper  and spoke) - Has it been in any other papers? George, don't make no full  moves. What have you done with him? Oh, mama, mama, mama. Oh stop it, stop it;  eh, oh, oh. Sure, sure, mama.  Now listen, Phil, fun is fun. Ah please, papa. What happened to the sixteen?  Oh, oh, he done it, please. John, please, oh, did you buy the hotel? You promised  a million sure. Get out. I wished I knew.  Please make it quick, fast and furious. Please. Fast and furious. Please help  me get out; I am getting my wind back, thank God. Please, please, oh please.  You will have to please tell him, you got no case.  You get ahead with the dot dash system didn't I speak that time last night.  Whose number is that in your pocket book, Phi1 13780. Who was it? Oh- please,  please. Reserve decision. Police, police, Henry and Frankie. Oh, oh, dog biscuits  and when he is happy he doesn't get happy please, please to do this. Then Henry,  Henry, Frankie you didn't even meet me. The glove will fit what I say oh, Kayiyi,  oh Kayiyi. Sure who cares when you are through? How do you know this? How do  you know this? Well, then oh, Cocoa know thinks he is a grandpa again. He is  jumping around. No Hobo and Poboe I think he means the same thing.  

Q. (from Sergeant Conlon) - Who  shot you?  

A.- The boss himself.  

Q.- He did?  

A.- Yes, I don't know.  

Q.- What did he shoot you for?  

A.- I showed him boss; did you  hear him meet me? An appointment. Appeal stuck. All right, mother.  

Q.- Was it the boss shot you?  

A.- Who shot me? No one.  

Q.- We will help you.  

A.- Will you help me up? O.K.  I won't be such a big creep. Oh, mama. I can't go through with it, please. Oh,  and then he clips me; come on. Cut that out, we don't owe a nickel; hold it;  instead, hold it against him; I am a pretty good pretzler -Winifred- Department  of Justice. I even got it from the department. Sir, please stop it. Say listen  the last night!  

(Statement by Sergeant Conlon)  - Don't holler.  

A.- I don't want to holler.  

Q.- What did they shoot you for?  

A.- I don't know, sir. Honestly  I don't. I don't even know who was with me, honestly. I was in the toilet and  when I reached the -the boy came at me.  

Q.- The big fellow gave it to  you?

A.- Yes, he gave it to me.  

Q.- Do you know who this big fellow  was?  

A.- No. If he wanted to break  the ring no, please I get a month. They did it. Come on. (A name, not clear)  cut me off and says you are not to be the beneficiary of this will. Is that  right? I will be checked and double-checked and please pull for me. Will you  pull? How many good ones and how many bad ones? Please I had nothing with him  he was a cowboy in one of the seven days a week fight. No business; no hangout;  no friends; nothing; just what you pick up and what you need. I don't know who  shot me. Don't put anyone near this check~ you might have -please do it for  me. Let me get up. heh? In the olden days they waited and they waited. Please  give me a shot. It is from the factory. Sure, that is a bad. Well, oh good ahead  that happens for trying. I don't want harmony. I want harmony. Oh, mamma, mamma!  Who give it to him? Who give it to him? Let me in the district -fire-factory  that he was nowhere near. It smoldered No, no. There are only ten of us and  there ten million fighting somewhere of you, so get your onions up and we will  throw up the truce flag. Oh, please let me up. Please shift me. Police are here.  Communistic...strike...baloney...honestly this is a habit I get; sometimes I  give it and sometimes I don't. Oh, I am all in. That settles it. Are you sure?  Please let me get in and eat. Let him harass himself to you and then bother  you. Please don't ask me to go there. I don't want to. I still don't want him  in the path. It is no use to stage a riot. The sidewalk was in trouble and the  bears were in trouble and I broke it up. Please put me in that room. Please  keep him in control. My gilt edged stuff and those dirty rats have tuned in.  Please mother, don't tear, don't rip; that is something that shouldn't be spoken  about. Please get me up, my friends. Please, look out. The shooting is a bit  wild, and that kind of shooting saved a man's life. No payrolls. No wells. No  coupons. That would be entirely out. Pardon me, I forgot I am plaintiff and  not defendant. Look out. Look out for him. Please. He owed me money; he owes  everyone money. Why can't he just pullout and give me control? Please, mother,  you pick me up now. Please, you know me. No. Don't you scare me. My friends  and I think I do a better job. Police are looking for you allover. Be instrumental  in letting us know. They are English-men and they are a type I don't know who  is best, they or us. Oh, sir, get the doll a roofing. You can play jacks and  girls do that with a soft ball and do tricks with it. I take all events into  consideration. No. No. And it is no. It is confused and its says no. A boy has  never wept nor dashed a thousand kim. Did you hear me?  

Q. (By Detective) - Who shot you?  

A.- I don't know.  

Q.- How many shots were fired?  

A.- I don't know.  

Q.- How many?  

A.- Two thousand. Come one, get  some money in that treasury. We need it. Come on, please get it. I can't tell  you to. That is not what you have in the book. Oh, please warden. What am I  going to do for money? Please put me up on my feet at once. You are a hard boiled  man. Did you hear me? I would hear it, the Circuit Court would hear it, and  the Supreme Court might hear it. If that ain't the pay-off. Please crack down  on the Chinaman's friends and Hitler's commander. I am sore and I am going up  and I am going to give you honey if I can. Mother is the best bet and don't  let Satan draw you too fast.  

Q. (By Detective) - What did the  big fellow shoot you for?  

A.- Him? John? Over a million,  five million dollars.  

Q.- You want to get well, don't  you?  

A.- Yes.  

Q.- Then lie quiet.  

A.- Yes, I will lie quiet.  

Q.- John shot and we will take  care of John.  

A.- That is what caused the trouble.  Look out. Please let me up. If you do this, you can go on and jump right here  in the lake. I know who they are. They are French people. All right. Look out,  look out. Oh, my memory is gone. A work relief police. Who gets it? I don't  know and I don't want to know, but look out. It can be traced. He changed for  the worse. Please look out; my fortunes have changed and come back and went  back since that. It was desperate. I am wobbly. You ain't got nothing on him  but you got it on his helper.  

Q. (By detective ) - Control yourself.  

A.- But I am dying.

(Statemnt by detective) - No,  you are not.  

A.- Come on, mama. All right,  dear, you have to get it.

At this point, Schultz's wife,  Frances, was brought to his bedside. She spoke.

(Statement by Mrs. Schultz) -  This is Frances.

Schultz began to talk again,  saying:

Then pull me out. I am half crazy.  They won't let me get up. They dyed my shoes. Open those shoes. Give me something.  I am so sick. Give me some water, the only thing that I want. Open this up and  break it so I can touch you. Danny, please get me in the car.

At this point Mrs. Schultz  left the room.

(Sergeant Conlon questioned Schultz  again) - Who shot you?  

A.- I don't know. I didn't even  get a look. I don't know who can have done it. Anybody. Kindly take my shoes  off. (He was told that they were off.) No. There is a handcuff on them.  The Baron says these things. I know what I am doing here with my collection  of papers. It isn't worth a nickel to two guys like you or me but to a collector  it is worth a fortune. It is priceless. I am going to turn it over to... Turn  you back to me, please Henry. I am so sick now. The police are getting many  complaints. Look out. I want that G-note. Look out for Jimmy Valentine for he  is an old pal of mine. Come on, come on, Jim. Ok, ok, I am all through. Can't  do another thing. Look out mamma, look out for her. You can't beat him. Police,  mamma, Helen, mother, please take me out. I will settle the indictment. Come  on, open the soap duckets. The chimney sweeps. Talk to the sword. Shut up, you  got a big mouth! Please help me up, Henry. Max, come over here. French-Canadian  bean soup. I want to pay. Let them leave me alone.

Schultz sank into unconsciousness  then. It was 6:40 P.M. He died less than two hours later, without saying anything  else. Some say this is everything from the ravings of someone on the brink of  death to poetry to secrets of the mob world. You be the judge.

#The source is only up via the Wayback Machine #dutch schultz #william s. burroughs

[chicklette]

@frostbitebakery wrecked me with her art.  I made the story.  The glory belongs to her.

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 

Part III (rated M for all the previous reasons):

When Bucky is twenty-seven, his mother cries a lot.  She cries when Bucky gets promoted, when Becca gets pregnant, and when Becca has her bonding ceremony.  She cries when George finally sells his half of the shop to his brother, and he makes good on a bonding-night promise to take her to Hawaii. (Even the air smells good there, she tells all their friends when they return.)

Mostly though, she cries because Bucky is always cold, and Bucky is deeply lonely, and Bucky lost his soulmate before he even got him. Bucky lost his soulmate before he ever knew to call another person home.

When Bucky is twenty-eight, he sits on his mother’s sofa with a new life in his hands.  Becca is radiant in motherhood, in happiness.  She shines like he always hoped she would, though the young years when she was painfully shy around everyone but him, the awkward years when she was coltish and tall, a face full of braces and dimples that rarely showed.  Meeting Davy Proctor brought out every beautiful thing in Becca, and even though he desperately wishes he knew what it was like to shine like that, he doesn’t begrudge her even a bit of it.

Gabby smiles up at him, bright blue eyes and rosebud mouth.  As six months old, she’s a snuggler more than anything, and has the endearing habit of pushing her hands up your shirt sleeves, and flexing them in time with her suckling.  Bucky is utterly gone on her.

“Honey?” Winnie says, and Becca nods.  Before Bucky can track what’s going on, his folks, Becca and Davy are all giving him earnest, heartbreaking looks.

“We wanted to talk to you, sweetheart,” Winnie says.  “We’re worried.”

“I - you guys, I know.”

“I don’t think you do,” Becca says, and her smile is small, sad.  “Buck, it feels like you haven’t smiled in a year.”

Bucky pushes a grin onto his face and even he notices how wrong it feels.

“I’m sorry,” he says, letting the smile fall.  “I know, I just….”  He stops because what is he supposed to say?  He’s just sad.

“Son,” George says.  “I know we don’t- can’t - understand.  But with everything that’s happened, and everything we know -” He pauses and shrugs.  “I just don’t think Steve would want you living this way.”

“I - I know.  It’s just hard letting go,” Bucky says.

It’s true.  

After his last dream of Steve, Bucky started having nightmares: Dreams where Bucky could have saved Steve, but didn’t.  

He knows they don’t make any sense, but he also doesn’t know how to argue against his heart.

Becca’s face is solemn as she hands Bucky a small, white card.  “Mr. Coulson gave this to us.  He said that you should use it if you need it.  He said that  - you can be honest with her.  She’s been...approved.”

Bucky takes the card and looks at it, before putting it in his back pocket. He doesn’t think he’ll call, but he knows he has to do something.  He’s been ghosting through his life for too long now.  Hell, he doesn’t know if he ever starting living it to begin with.  Steve’s been a part of his life since he can remember.

He looks up at his family: His mother’s eyes are huge and wet, and his father is holding tight to his mother.  Davy has his arms around Becca, and then he looks down to see Gabby watching him, eyes full of wonder before she breaks into a grin and coos.

“Alright,” he says, smiling down at his niece that he loves so much.  “I’ll try.”

.

When Bucky is twenty-nine, he takes another leave of absence from work.  He tries to resign outright, but his boss refuses, telling him to do what he needs to do, and that his job will be waiting when he returns.

Bucky travels to Europe.  He sits in a pub that was rebuilt after the war, in the same corner that Steve sat in, once upon a Christmas eve.  He goes to Azzano and hikes the forests surrounding what is now a war monument.  When he gets there, he finds that the monument has been built around the rubble of the original building. He climbs a mountain in the Alps and fights his stomach souring when he looks down at the train tracks.  

He sleeps in a tiny hotel room in London, on a narrow bed and presses his face to the sheets, the way Peggy did when Steve made love to her.

When he returns to New York, he haunts Brooklyn.  He has a drink at a bar, buys a soda at what’s now a 7-11, and leaves a bouquet of flowers on a dead woman’s grave.

It takes a phone call to Coulson, and every ounce of strength he has left, but he visits Peggy Carter.  He tells her that his family knew Steve back when.  He listens to her stories and he tells her about Steve when he was young, and just what a little punk he was.  He tells her that Steve loved her, very much.  He thanks her for loving him back.

She dips in and out of lucidity, but when he’s leaving, she reaches out, grabs his wrist.  

“Who are you really?” she asks.  “Steve didn’t have any old family friends.”  

Bucky colors but finds he can't look away.  

“Oh,” she says, her brown eyes bright and clear.  “Oh, my darling.  After all of this time?”

Bucky nods, and can't fight the wetness that clings to his lashes.  

Peggy squeezes his hand with what’s left of her frail strength.  “He would have loved you.”

He stops trying to hide his tears.

.

When Bucky is thirty, he starts dating again.  He pays for one of the good services, and fills out a questionaire that takes him almost two hours.  When it asks how long he had with his soulmate, Bucky lies.  Three weeks sounds so much better than “never.”  

He’s matched with Darla from Kansas City.  She cries twice over dinner, her wounds still too fresh.  He’s matched with Michael from California, who is smart and pretty and intense, in ways that Bucky’s just not ready to handle.  He’s matched with Jimmy, who is from Brooklyn, too, and they hit it it off just fine.

On their second date, Bucky notices a small tattoo just behind Jimmy’s ear: it’s the Captain America shield.  Bucky’s not sure what to think, but when he asks, Jimmy talks about how Cap was the embodiment of everything that Jimmy was raised to believe was good and true and right with the world.  

Bucky can’t argue.

Jimmy is kind, and sweet, and funny, but Jimmy is also fun.  Bucky wasn’t expecting that.

They go ice skating in Central Park, and see bad 60’s sci-fi at the revival house on tenth.  They go to parties hosted by Bucky’s friends, and Jimmy’s, and through it all, Bucky is surprised at how easy it is.  Jimmy is direct and when he looks at Bucky, Bucky feels like he’s being seen.

When they have sex for the first time, Jimmy takes it easy and slow, letting Bucky take the lead until Bucky asks for more.  When they’re done, Jimmy settles into Bucky’s arms, head on his chest, and whispers stories to make Bucky laugh.  Bucky’s grateful, even as he feels sad, and wrong.  

He pushes the feeling aside.  He’s not the only one in the world without a soulmate.

When Bucky’s been dating Jimmy for about three months, he starts attending a grief and loss group meeting, led by a man named Sam.  

Sam lost his soulmate while in the military, and now he tries to help others cope with the same.  He and Bucky hit it off instantly, each razzing the other, but also allowing small kindnesses, like a cup of coffee, or an extra-long hug at the close of group.  Bucky’s not sure if group is helping, but he goes nonetheless.

Around six months into their affair, Jimmy makes noises about wanting to move their relationship forward.  Bucky isn’t aware that he’s holding back, but the way that the conversation blind-sides him makes it clear.

“I want to,” Bucky says.  “I do.”

“I know,” Jimmy says, a chagrined smile on his face.  “I almost think that makes it worse.”

“We could still-” Bucky starts, but Jimmy cups Bucky’s face in his hand, and the look on Jimmy’s face stops Bucky in his tracks.  

“No,” Jimmy says.  “We can’t.”  Then he leans up and presses a small, soft kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth.  “Take care of yourself, love,” Jimmy says, then turns and leaves.

.

When Bucky is thirty, he gets a tattoo.  He searches designs and then researches artists, not willing to trust the work to just anyone.  

He considers a shield, something like Jimmy’s, but feels like it’s too obvious.  He thinks about their birthdays, of something that just says “Steve,” but none of them are the right fit.

On the cusp of sleep one night he recalls a vase he saw in the Brittish Museum.  It was an image from the antiquities collection, Hercules and the Hydra.  Bucky startles awake, suddenly certain and sure, that that is the right image. That is what is going to help him let go.

It doesn’t work.  

When Bucky is thirty one, he and Sam are out for coffee, post-group.  

“Are you happy?” Sam asks, and Bucky knows he can’t say yes.

“Man, what are you holding on for?” Sam’s eye are kind, but his voice is exasperated.  “He’s gone, right?”

“Long gone,” Bucky says, a grimace on his face.  

“Look,” Sam says.  “I’m not here to tell you how to live your life.  At some point, you’re going to have to decide whether this is what’s right, or what’s easy.”

“Sam, I know.  I just -” At this, Bucky leans forward and speaks low, like he’s telling a secret.  “It’s like I can still feel him.  Do you get that, with Riley?”

Shaking his head, Sam says, “Nah.  With Riley, it was like I felt it the moment he was gone.  There was just this...space, where Riley used to be.”

Bucky sighs, and leans back in his chair.  “Yeah, well,” he says, shrugging.  

Sam sighs.  “Alright.  So you gonna help me run the Valentine’s social or what?  ‘Cause I know your dumb ass doesn’t have a date.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says.  “Yeah, why not?”

The conversation with Sam doesn’t sit well with Bucky, though.  He turns it over and over in his mind.  He sits with it through Valentine’s Day, through his birthday, Lent and Easter, and as the New York weather turns firmly toward spring, Bucky makes a decison.  One way or another, it’s time to let Steve Rogers go.

.

When Bucky is thirty-one, he visits the archives, deep inside of SHIELD headquarters.  His call to Phil Coulson has been plainative.  He just needs to try to say goodbye.  He thinks that maybe handling some of Steve’s things, reading some of his writings...something, anything.  Something’s got to help.

It’s a cool afternoon when Bucky goes to the archives.  He grabs his favorite red hoodie and his earphones for the subway.  Coulson is there to greet Bucky, and he gives Bucky an all-access pass, a warm handshake, and a sad smile.

At first, the curator and Coulson hover.

After a bit though, they walk away and let Bucky have the room to himself.  He sits at a table and reads through a tactical journal that Steve kept.  He traces his fingertip over a picture that Steve drew, of a monkey in a uniform on a unicycle.  Bucky remembers dreaming about that drawing, about Steve, being so angry and feeling so useless.  He remembers the moment that Peggy Carter walked back into Steve’s life.

He touches one of Steve’s uniforms, and presses his face into the collar, breathing deep, but it doesn’t smell of anything but must.

He walks around the room, a veritable museum of one Steven Grant Rogers, before looking over some of the historical notes.  His heart pangs when he sees that that someone has scratched out the “none” next to Soulmate: and put Bucky’s name there instead.

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky whispers.  “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

He turns to leave, but his attention is caught by a bust of Captain America in the corner.  

The bust looks to be made of marble.  It’s captured Cap from about the ribs up, and seems to be life sized.  Before Bucky can stop himself, he’s standing in front of it.

“I don’t understand,” Bucky says.  “I don’t know why I can’t let you go, but you have to try to let me.  It’s almost like I can feel you holding on, and I love you, but this - this hurts.  Steve, it hurts.”

Bucky can feel his face heating and his lashes growing wet.

“You’re the only thing I ever wanted,” he says.  “And watching you grow up, God, it was like -” and the he laughs, realizing what he’s about to say.  “It was like you made for me.  And maybe you were.  But this is shitty.  And it’s not fair.  And I can’t keep loving your Goddamned ghost!.”

Closing his eyes, Bucky leans against the statue, feeling the cool marble against his forehead.

“I love you, Steve,” he says, and closes his eyes, letting the tears run in warm rivulets down his face.   “I love you so much.  But this - this has to be goodbye.”

Bucky rubs his nose against the statue, trying hard not to notice that even as marble, it’s a perfect fit.  Groaning at himself, but unable to stop, he shifts and presses his lips against the statue’s, marble and flesh, hot and cold.  

He holds there, reveling in the only kiss he’s ever going to share with his soulmate, before pushing away and heading for the door.  He’s openly crying as he exits the building, mumbling something to the curator and ignoring Coulson’s shouts entirely.  

Ducking down an alley, he comes to rest behind a dumpster, his back sliding down the brick wall before giving in and just...just crying. He cries for Steve, for himself, for the love they should have shared, but never did.  He wonders if missing your soulmate can kill you, because he sure as hell isn’t living.  

A stray cat sniffs at his shoe before curling in at his side, clinging to his warmth.  It headbutts him once, twice, and Bucky is pulled out of his pityfest by the little purr, then chirrup it gives when he reaches his hand out to pet it.

“You’re a friendly thing,” he says, sniffling and trying to bring himself back under control.  The cat, all black, peers up at him with great green eyes.

“Skinny,” he says.  “You all alone?”  

The cat headbutts him again, then rolls onto its side, paws flexing in the air as though it’s swimming.  

“Yeah,” he says.  “Okay.”

Bucky takes a few deep breaths and leans his head against the wall.  The cat climbs onto his lap, then sniffs and paws at his pants pocket, where he has a granola bar stashed.  

Curious, Bucky opens it and offers a bit to the cat.  

Sniffing, the cat makes a slight chewing motion with it’s mouth, before leaning forward and wolfing it down in one go.

“Okay,” Bucky say.  “Okay.”  He abandons the rest of the bar to the cat, before pulling out his phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sam?” Bucky says.  “I think I could use some help.”

.

2300 miles away, the late spring sun shines hot, and the permafrost shifts.

Steve Rogers takes his first breath in almost seventy years.

...to be continued

a/n: next (final) chapter up just as soon as I can get it out of my head and into my laptop.  BUT SOOON AND NO LATER THAN MON/TUES.

#chicklette writes things #soulmates au #shrunkyclunks au #stevexbucky #stucky #oh hai sam #i am such a jerk #sorrynotsorry #blame frostbitebakery #phil coulson is the real hero here

[pkmntrainergreyze]

Sleep (Mikey Way x Reader)

Tried making this short. Noticed most of my stories are 1k to 2k words so…

I know it’s late and I don’t celebrate Valentine’s, but please know that you are loved, no matter what day it is ❤

———

(Y/n) fell flat on Mikey’s guestroom bed. Her eyes conveyed smudged dark concaves. Her features yelled her fatigue, yet even at 6 am she couldn’t sleep.

She wriggled in his provided skimpy blanket. Not one comfy position. She shut her eyes and awaited for a truant wave of drowsiness. No luck.

She whimpered.

She hooked her nails deep on her bestfriend’s pillow. Her footsteps resonated while she strutted down the silent hall.

“Mikey…” She whispered.

The blonde, who was previously watching Netflix, craned his neck. He looked youthful, he could be easily mistaken as a nineteen year old. She’s quite jealous. Nothing can disturb her more than the fact there is no sign of sleep deprivation in him. Except for the stench of coffee oozing when he talks, most agreed it’s part of his charisma.

“Yeah?” He asked, not moving from the couch.

“I can’t sleep” She pouted.

He scoffed and raised an eyebrow. Oh really? No shit.

He continued navigating his movie options.

“Don’t look at the clock, read books, or something. I don’t know. I’m still not Quora or Yahoo Answers… Zzzz…”

He began the fifth episode of The Umbrella Academy, gambling time to support both Gabriel and his brother’s comic’s Netflix adaption.

His response did not please (Y/n) nor was she offended. She developed full immunity against his unhelpful remarks. She tried them all in the past, in addition to chamomile tea and coloring books, but none kicked it.

Miracles and concerts can possibly make her sleep, but Mikey’s list? That ain’t it, chief.

She sat beside him and rested her head on top of his shoulder. He pretended to remain unfazed and skipped the episode’s intro.

‘This was just what bestfriends do at slumber parties’ he supposed.

He gulped.

‘Alarmingly, slumber parties with (Y/n) invited means no sleeping nor party. Instead of putting her to sleep. I’ll be awake till 6am’

Mikey snaked his hand around her waist. He learned the hard way that Movies intensifies her insomnia so he placed a pillow above his lap, prompting her to lay there as he turned the TV off.

He combed her hair with his slender calloused fingers. This always relaxed her, and step one is always comfort.

“How do you sleep?” She asked yet again, like every other night she calls.

“I close my eyes and don’t think” If Mikey sounded monotone, then he’s robotic now.

“You know I can’t do the last part…” (Y/n) muttered.

“Then I’ll have to tire you out by thinking a lot”

-

“Wait, so you’re saying that unicorns aren’t real cause it’s not in bible?” He whisper-yelled. The outburst raised her eyebrow, but nothing she ain’t used to.

Reluctantly, she answered “Umm yeah, and there’s no actual records of horses with a horn and a lion’s tail”

He scoffed “Bullshit. The Englishmen have documented and seen shit”

“Sorry to burst your bubble sweetie, do me a favor and buy a Merriam English dictionary. It’ll clearly state it’s an imaginary animal”

Sweetie.

She called me sweetie.

That’s so adorable—

His face hardened. No. Unicorns, Mikey. Think Unicorns. Be the sass princess middle school girl you truly are.

“Unicorns aren’t real Mikey” He mocked (he really only had the confidence to say this after punching poor Ryan)

“Who are you? Mr Ross from AP Chemistry?” He referred to the Professor who argued the same point (Y/n) had.

She shook her head in disappointment “Better than a mid-twenties man who still watches My Little Pony”

He bobbed his head “Yeah, you got me”

She blinked a couple of times and pinched her cheek roughly. A load of air piled in her lungs as she began to shake.

“Did you just—” She gawked “Did you just smirked?!”

His face solidified “No.”

“I swear I saw you smiled just earlier” She exhaled in disbelief.

“For twelve straight years I thought you were a robot!” She placed a hand on her mouth and proceeded to muffle her squeal.

He may look calm and ready but inside he’s as nervous as teenagers on remedial exams. Not now. Damn it, he’s saving that grin for a special occassion! This is so anticlimactic.

Fuck! What to do, what to do.

His caffeinated eyes rambled everywhere. The television, his remote, the poster Gerard superglued in his kitchen and a spectroscopic dust became the most intriguing items in the planet. It was amusing, especially for (Y/n) who counted the unbreakable strike now shattered in both their faces.

Suddenly, with fidgety hands the younger Way lifted and carried her to bed. Course, she didn’t complain, she opted it as a sign of weakness and forfeit and talked nonstop. She’d be lying if she said this didn’t caused her internal butterflies to flutter, but who’s asking?

He gently laid her down the bed. Before she could sit down and mock him more, he snatched her wrists and pushed her down.

“Alright” He said shakily “H-hate to break it to you (Y/n), but you’ve been lucid dreaming this whole time and you know it”

She giggled “No I’m not—

Mikey plastered the pillow to her face, almost suffocating her. Or maybe that was the point?

“Go. To. Sleep.” He whispered to her free ear “You’re dreaming (Y/n), wake up!”

She sounded like she was saying “but!”, but it was muffled.

“Shh…” He removed his grip and scooted beside her “Sleep.”

She rolled her eyes. There’s no way he’d let her speak. She knew whenever Mikey puts his mind on something he can accomplish anything. This is one of those scenarios.

Then again, she does feel tired… Quite the shocking rumor huh?

There she is, looking like a drop dead porcelain doll in Mikey’s arms, more artistic than a Franz Anton Bustelli masterpiece.

His eyes batted at the realization of burden close to his chest. He can’t move. She looks exceptionally peaceful in his arms, and there’s no alternate universe in which he’ll pass the opportunity not to absorb her features. In fact, in the first two minutes there’s a list of details in his head already.

And those little things gravitated his face a kissing meter away from her.

He shut his eyes. This is it. The moment he shook, daydreaming about for so long he can barely remember the beginning of this fantasy.

Their first kiss.

The situation felt so good to be true. Just a peck and he’d he satisfied.

He flinched.

No.

It wouldn’t feel right sealing her first kiss when she’s asleep.

It would be his first kiss and her goodnight sleep.

He considered it long before he seperated himself tenderly, and replaced a pillow for her to snuggle. This night isn’t about him, it’s about her, and if he had to wait long for her to sleep, then he had to wait longer for their kiss.

Believe me, that was an excruciating decision. It’s so easy to entice his temptation that he nearly did both him and her dirty.

But it was the best thing to do.

It’s 2am, birds are already warbling outside and the aroma of coffee is as strong as yesterday. On Mikey’s path out of the room, he casted his gaze to (Y/n)’s face one last time. He scowled.

“I’d rather let her see me smile than no one at all”

—-

Why do i reference my old fanfictions? I don’t know either

BUT THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY MAN, WATCH IT. I’m trash for the comics so much that I will take whatever crap happened in the Netflix Adaption

Update: I finished it. So good. There are tons of changes from what I read from the comicscbut still a series worth watching. Plus, we get to see more of Ben and Delores unlike the comics :D

Trust me, it’s good

P.S:

I know it’s a shameless self promotion but I’ve busied myself making a The Umbrella Academy [mainly the apocalypse suite] in a nutshell video.

So far I’m just in the introduction:

https://youtu.be/miQzxV2IPtg

#mikey way #mikey way x reader #my chemical romance #gerard way x reader #gerard way #electric century #imagines #mikey way imagines #mikey way imagine #imagine #my chemical mikey

[thatgirlonstage]

Aftershocks

When the butterfly flits away on bright white wings, it leaves no memories. There is only a vague impression of rage, a seemingly righteous fury that burned away all other awareness. Rarely, the sound of a man’s voice echoes in their ears like the memory of a dream, giving them a name, offering them a deal.

———

Ivan doesn’t talk much about it, the first or the second time. He’s never been talkative, and despite the burningly curious stares he knows they’re all giving him, he doesn’t want to answer their questions. He couldn’t tell them what they want, anyway. All he can recall is the anger, the blinding searing anger that left it impossible to think. He endures the stares and glares any questioners into silence. The attention subsides when, a week later, the second attack comes. Curiosity deflects onto the next victim, and then the one after that, and eventually he’s not really special anymore, just the first in a long line of people who get to see their worst selves loosed on the world.

———

Nino remembers bubbles. He remembers a feeling of weightlessness, as if his own will for rebellion buoyed him straight into the air. He walks through the park and sees children blowing bubbles – innocent bubbles, real bubbles, nothing but soap and water whispered into existence on an afternoon breeze – and he can’t help but stare. Rainbows shine faintly on their sides like false promises, before the wind carries them into the shadow of a tree, where they soundlessly pop. He dreams of opaque spheres that fall to earth and shatter open like glass snow globes, spilling human bones.

———

Alya rewatches the footage of it, over and over. Some of it she filmed and broadcast herself while trapped in her own vicious quest for the truth. Some of it was regular news cameras, and some amateur phone videos submitted to the blog. She edits it methodically, piecing the footage together piece by piece, setting it out simply, chronologically. She pauses on her own face, caught in a rictus of obsessive triumph as her fingers curl around the edge of a mask. She struggles to understand that face as her, and not some creature created wholesale from fluttering black wings. Behind the mask of the girl behind her, blue eyes are wide with fear.

———

Her brother got a play-by-play of every moment, published on a blog for the world to see. Alix has confusing fragments and contradictory accounts, which can’t seem to resolve themselves into a single narrative. Her brother feels compelled to study his transformation, buried in notes of his own attempted murder. She has a blurry photo of herself, doubled and altered, and no one who can explain how or why. She takes heart at the sight of a blur of red and black soaring across the city, but something sits uneasy in the pit of her stomach every time, imagination run wild gathering into a tight uncertainty. Her suspicions are more frightening than any truth could be.

———

They reclaim their worst selves together. It was harder when it was just Nathaniel, for months on end, scribbling fragmentary scenarios. But Marc gets it, in a way that most of them don’t seem to, and between them, they rewrite their lowest moments into heroism. They are not the puppets of someone else’s malice.

———

The miraculous cure works excellently on demolished buildings or broken watches or zombie armies. It works less well on hurt feelings. By the time Kim is himself again, the damage is done. He hears the gossip wandering around school. So sad, they broke up on Valentine’s Day, they had a big fight on Valentine’s Day, they’re going on a makeup date after Valentine’s Day. He ducks his head and hurries past and tries not to imagine accusing stares following him.

———

There weren’t very many horror movies in their house to begin with, but when she gets home Mylène quietly gathers them up and throws them all away. Nino sends her the final version of the footage, and she turns the sound off, pulls up the blind to let in as much sunlight as possible, turns on her lamp, and presses play. She stops when she finds herself and pauses the video, freezing the face into unmoving pixels. She doesn’t stare at it for long before she hits the x to close the window and drags the file into the trash. She texts Ivan later. He’s the only one who might understand. He’s the only other one who was turned into a literal monster.

———

Emotions were hard to talk about. Neither Max nor Markov were much good at it. How were you supposed to articulate the illogical, explain something you yourself did not fully recognize or understand beyond the fact that it felt bad? Their discussions are halting and awkward, and full of rephrasing, but in a way it’s reassuring. They don’t have to wax poetic, in fact it’s better not to. But they get it. They get each other. They get how foreign it felt to have rage and frustration and abandonment and failure throttle them until those feelings overpowered any rational thought.

———

Sabrina tries to bring it up only once, and when Chloe speaks right over her, requesting Sabrina fetch her red heels, she never says anything again. She can’t get that upset again, she thinks. As often as she still feels invisible, she can’t let it get the better of her, or she risks losing herself again, and that means she risks losing Chloe. She tamps down her anger and frustration and tells herself she’s happy.

———

Chloe doesn’t do self-reflection or regrets. She doesn’t have a problem, she doesn’t need to get over anything. She was right, anyway. And she doesn’t remember it. Well, except for one vaguely unsettling thing, but she’s sure that she was just confused, or that everyone felt the same. She can remember her last lucid thought before she gleefully gave into her rage. She just doesn’t understand why she would think I know that voice.

———

Juleka doesn’t understand the girl in the pictures. The ones her classmates took with her – those are perfect, they’re tacked up all over her desk, and they make her feel warm inside whenever she looks at them. But the ones of the other her, or rather, the many other hers. She doesn’t understand why feeling invisible led to that face. She doesn’t understand who this doppelgänger is. She can’t see herself reflected in there, bubblegum pink and dolled up like some kind of alternate universe Barbie. Quite ironically, she never wants to see another picture of that face ever again.

———

It wasn’t that bad, Rose thinks, compared to others who brought down the Eiffel Tower or mind-wiped half of Paris. She tried to marry Ali, which was weird, but it really wasn’t that bad. She really doesn’t want to compare herself to someone like Nino or Kim, it doesn’t seem fair. She shouldn’t be that upset about it. But when her grandmother sends her a perfume bottle for her birthday, she stares at it for a very long time before she throws it away, gently dropping it into a dumpster, careful not to let the bottle break and release its scent into the air.

———

“So how come you’re the lucky one?”

“Hmm?” Marinette responded absently, more focused on her sketchbook than Alya, trying to capture the shape of the jacket one of the bakery’s morning customers had been wearing before it blurred too much in her memory.

“How come you’re the only one who hasn’t been akumatized?” Alya was sprawled across Marinette’s couch, looking at her upside down, flipping through comments on the Ladyblog. “Everyone else in our class has. You’d think Hawk Moth has some kind of grudge against us. Everyone except you.”

Marinette, pulled out of her concentration by the mention of akumas, set her pencil down. “That’s not true! she protested. “A–Adrien hasn’t either! Not that Adrien ever would, of course, he’s far too nice and sweet and kind, not that that really protects you from Hawk Moth but still he—” Alya interrupted her by laughing.

“Chill, girl,” she said. “You’re right, I forgot about Adrien. There have been like four akuma attacks at his house, I was thinking about that. Alright, so you and Adrien. What makes you two the lucky duo?” Marinette went red and tried to hide her stutter with a laugh.

“We’re not— I mean— The akuma that got Miss Bustier was supposed to be for me. It’ll probably happen sooner or later.” She tucked her hair behind her ear to hide the subconscious movement she’d made towards her earrings. “Unless Ladybug and Chat Noir catch Hawk Moth first.” She was counting on that. She had nightmares of butterflies closing in on her from all sides, of Chat’s voice calling distantly for help, of knowing that without her, no one could cure the akuma.

“Well, once you and Adrien both have your supervillain stint we’ll need to start a club,” Alya said, looking up from her phone and smirking. “Miss Bustier’s class: all your favorite akumas, all in one place. We can have a costume party dressed as our supervillain selves.”

“Do you think people would really want to do that?” Marinette asked doubtfully. Alya shrugged, the movement sliding her slightly off the couch.

“We’ve got to laugh about it sometime,” she said, returning her gaze to her phone. “Otherwise, it just tears you up inside.”

———

“Adrien?”

Adrien started, and guiltily put the child’s drawing back on the shelf. His father approached him, face unreadable, and studied the picture Adrien had been examining. He turned to look at Adrien and raised his eyebrows.

“It was one of the things you—” He swallowed and looked away. Adrien hadn’t seen the Collector’s destruction, only Chat had, and he didn’t need any complicated conversations about where he’d been that day. “I’d almost forgotten you kept this.” Gabriel’s face continued to betray nothing as he turned his gaze back to the picture. He reached out and closed the cabinet, locking it away.

“Your mother had it framed,” he said, and Adrien tensed. Gabriel turned back to him. “Shouldn’t you be at your Chinese lesson?” he asked. “I trust your regular teacher is back today.” Adrien felt a jolt of nerves. He still couldn’t quite believe the way that Fu had just walked in, as if it were perfectly normal for a magical benefactor to masquerade as a substitute Chinese teacher. Still, there was no reason his father should notice anything strange about “Mr. Chan.”

“He’s running late,” Adrien explained. “Bad traffic after the akuma attack.” Gabriel’s lips pressed together thinly.

“Go study in the meanwhile,” he instructed.

“Father?” He called it after Gabriel’s retreating back, and the question tumbled out before he’d thought about what he was saying. “What was it like, being akumatized?”

He wasn’t sure why he said it. Maybe lingering unwanted suspicions that his father might somehow still be Hawk Moth prompted him, trying to catch him in a lie. Maybe it was because he normally ducked out of akuma conversations, nervous he might forget himself and let something slip. Maybe he was just looking for his father to talk honestly about himself, for once, about anything besides work. He felt Plagg shift in his pocket, felt him practically buzz with surprise and sudden alertness. Gabriel had paused, stiff-backed and silent. Adrien resisted the urge to run.

Gabriel turned back to face him, a frown creasing his forehead in a way that Adrien might have almost mistaken for concern. He reached out and laid a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “It’s nothing you’ll ever have to experience,” he said. Adrien frowned, shook his head.

“Almost everyone in my class has been akumatized besides me,” he said. “Anyone could be next.” Gabriel pressed his lips together again, and something dark flitted across his eyes. He squeezed Adrien’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t feel like much of anything,” he answered. “I have no memory of it. It is less than a bad dream. But—” he hesitated minutely “—you should not let it worry you.” He released his shoulder somewhat abruptly and stepped back. “I think I hear your teacher at the gate. Enjoy your lesson.” He turned and left. Once he was out of the room, Plagg zipped out of Adrien’s pocket to hover by his head.

“What did you ask him that for?” Plagg asked. Adrien didn’t answer, still looking after where his father had left. His shoulder felt cold.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #marinette dupain #adrien agreste #gabriel agreste #that's the first time i've ever written a scene between adrien and gabriel #boy howdy was it a trip #my writing

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S2 Ep 28: Marik Ishtar Canonically Only Weighs 121 lbs

Yo, I got hella sick this week and slept for what felt like 3 straight days, so because I’m still not fully functional (like I just found french fries in my front pocket of my sweatshirt and I have no idea when over the past three days I put that in there), in celebration of finally being awake, lets watch a lucid dream put to the screen, that’s right, it’s time for Yugioh.

Last we left off, Yugi has decided to throw this heavy chain and anchor over Joey’s neck--referring of course to the golden cursed necklace and not the actual chain and anchor that is hanging above them and about to kill them (but probably weighs the same but we’ll get to that realization later). I was really hoping that we’d get to see Pharaoh pull up in the corner like a little shoulder angel and just start shouting at Joey, but apparently you can’t catch the Pharaoh Dad curse that easily.

So apparently I missed THIS the last two episodes--but there’s a huge ass Death Clock above the anchor? Seriously, there’s been a time limit this whole time!?

I would be jumping into the ocean the moment I saw this clock, I just cannot even fathom the thought of playing a 20 minute card game. Like once my older brother--a different bro than my younger bro who edits this blog, this is my Chaotic Neutral bro--decided to shove 5 different Uno decks together to create an ultimate deck that was almost entirely wilds and draw 4′s and it was such an excruciating experience, that my Mother secretly threw the game away. Forever scarred.

Anyway, now that he’s strapped with Pharaoh in a Box, finally things got weird enough that Joey snapped out of it. First time he snapped out of it was because of a dragon...second time was the puzzle...he has yet to even kind of recognize Tea strapped in a bondage chair with a giant storage unit threatening to crush her--that one doesn’t seem to bother him.

Joey has a very selective memory, but he only seems to come to for about 10 seconds at a time and mostly just sweats a lot whenever he does.

(read more under the cut)

And as Joey pulls out the same piece he once threw out a school window and into a really fancy fountain, he has a very quick flashback to Season One. Or Season Zero, depending on which version you like better. (What school has a fountain, PS? Was that a quick donation from the Kaibas so the principal could shrug off some demerits?)

And so Joey puts the puzzle back together and back over his neck.

It’s fine. Go back to throwing fireballs at your best friend, but if you litter, then that’s just way too far. I mean the show has to stretch this out four episodes anyway, so despite their endless friendship love--Joey is still possessed and we have nothing left to give him unless Yugi just starts unloading belts.

Really confused at how this magic even works or operates when the puzzle is so far away from Yugi, but maybe Pharaoh has a battery life like a wacom tablet.

Man, so there really is no way to have any privacy when that guy’s in your head huh? Like can’t even hang up the puzzle when you’re on the toilet--no--he’s just...always around. This is the worst curse.

Back on the boat, the story boarding team realized that Marik is an underage teenager and cannot drink alcohol on TV.

I mean he didn’t even have a bottle of whatever he’d drink to fill that glass (milk, I’m assuming. Marik seems like the type of person that’d put ice in his milk.) But all that was drawn next to him was just one bucket of ice. Marik’s just back here stress chewing ice like a pregnant woman.

PS I just looked up Marik’s age with a quick Google Search and can we talk about something real fast--just real fast--JK I’m gonna talk about it a lot.

+++++RATHER LONG WIKIA WORMHOLE WEIGHT DISCUSSION FEEL FREE TO SKIP++++++++++

Age‎: ‎16 <---which seems a little young, but OK, it’s an anime

Weight‎: ‎121.254 lb <------- EXCUSE ME, WIKIA!?

Height‎: ‎1.8 m ; 5.906 ft 

He is nearly 6 ft feet tall and 120 lbs!?

Y’all.

Marik HAS NO BONES.

As a reviewer, it’s not my job to go around saying if drawing Marik way too skinny for a normal human being is right or wrong, because that’s a discussion that you can find plenty of info on. I’m pretty sure the people who made this show never expected when they first drew Yugi’s crazy eyes and horrible hair that we’d have a generation that would point to it and say “that’s hot”

And I’m not saying any of these characters have eating problems either, because we’ve seen all of them eat healthy meals. The shocking thing is that they gave these fake characters--remember these aren’t real people, they are cartoons--a specific numeric weight.

Blood type I expect, other random anime tidbits I expect--but weight seems super duper random and so awkward. Like, why do we have this information? Was it on a card or something? Like did the intern who came up with this weight number even research like...how much a normal human weighs??? Did they pull this number out of their ass???? None of these numbers make any sense, and they have these for apparently every single person who has appeared on the show. It’s incredible.

Man, Marik’s still wearing Baby Gap over there. Which...that explains the very small hoodie.

...one sec, let me look at the stats on Yugi.

Weight‎: ‎92.594 lb Height‎: ‎1.53 m ; 5.02 ft

OH NO. Who did this!?

He can’t even ride a roller coaster yet! Well, that explains a lot of the need for so many belts on this show. Yugi hasn’t hit the big triple digits yet.

Oh, Yugi.

And since we’re talking about numbers, lets talk about that puzzle now that we’ve talked about Yugi’s body weight. And like, lets be real--this is a cartoon and so of course it weighs magically nothing in the physics of the show...but lets just see, using math, how much this is if a 7 inch isosceles pyramid were made of solid gold (assuming that there is no gap in the middle, because that’s the way I’ve personally interpreted it.)

Now I’m gonna throw out a number and if you disagree, that’s cool beans and I don’t care, I was an art major, leave your math in the comments. But my math: It’s roughly 60 lbs. Some people online say it would only be 2 kilo’s but I don’t know what planet they’re from. Gold is .7 lbs a volumetric inch

Of course this weight also depends on how heavy the chain is, but I mean...the chain is stronger than Joey Wheeler and Tristan combined hitting it repeatedly with a pipe. It’s gotta be a car-towing/superlock chain.

a 20 inch heavy duty tow/lock chain is like 15 lbs, from what I see on Ebay.

So that pyramid necklace, indeed, is 75 lbs--4/5 of Yugi’s weight.

Now lets say you think there’s a gap in the middle and each piece has about a half-inch thickness, we’ll subtract about 43 lbs.

That’s still a 32 lb necklace guys, it’s about a third his weight!

Now lets say this was gold plated--first off, it’s not. But, lets say it’s entirely copper AND it’s hollow. That necklace is still 7 lbs with a 15 lb chain which is 23 lbs.

So, in all, Yugi actually weighs more than most people on this show--but it’s only because of the necklace, meaning the strongest thing in Yugioh, other than the endearing power of friendship between Joey and Yugi, is Yugi’s neck.

I also looked up Seto Kaiba and it didn’t say his weight right away but it did say this

Favorite Food‎: ‎Filet Mignon with Foie Gras Sauce

Damn.

Why does Seto Kaiba crave freakin ducks? Someone please give this poor child some candy. Give the whole cast candy.

+++++++END RANT OF EVERYONE’S WEIGHT ACCORDING TO WIKIA. I’M NOT EVEN SURE WHY WE KNOW THIS?+++++++

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, the boys are still babysitting Serenity, who has the pure muscle mass of 108 lbs, which is nearly 20 lbs more than Yugi Muto and only about 10 lbs less than Marik Ishtar.

She could probably lift Marik Ishtar. TBH with OP buff Wheeler stats like that, Serenity could probably punch out half the cast and does not need babysitting.

Duke Devlin is still following them around. I don’t really know why. No thugs are after Duke. Duke can just leave whenever he wants to, but he’s either so fascinated by Tristan’s predicament, or so enamored by Serenity’s soft hair and beautiful bandages, that he’s decided to follow along like Bakura in Season 1.

Except Bakura in Season 1 followed along because he wanted to screw them all, I’m pretty sure Duke won’t be doing that because I’m fairly positive that dice earring he got off of Etsy isn’t a millennium earring. I’m fairly positive he isn’t going to randomly kill everybody. I don’t know if this show could handle yet another villain dead set on destroying the world.

This love triangle between Tristan, and a girl who I didn’t think was real in S1, and Duke Devlin, the guy who was in a one-off at the end of S1 when the season should have already ended. So this is happening now. Interesting choice, show.

Serenity is like 12, right? Like her brother’s 14-16 and she’s like 11-13?

This show has a cast mostly full of people who are all the same age yet they keep shipping the few people that are either too young or waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too old. (except for Yugi and Joey, of course, who are the same age)

Duke Devlin, with this newly found responsibility, immediately walks a blind person into the street.

Anyways, speaking of ships that are way too old for this show, look who’s here and driving the dumbest convertible I’ve ever seen drawn.

And on the other side of town, the show edited out most of this violent nonsense for me.

Mai’s car, straight from fisher-price. I can’t stop looking at it.

So um...in the time it took to get Tristan, pick him up, turn around, and then drive here it was like...a 2 minute drive?

But, youknow, consider the Kaiba’s perspective. You’re watching this effed up duel straight from the bowels of Satan, and you hear a car pull up, and you’re like “oh finally, someone’s come to help us” and you turn around, and it’s a blue clown car full of Mai Valentine, Tristan, that random horny kid from the class across the hall, and some blind woman?

So Mokuba, who weighs less than one millennium puzzle at 61 lbs, actually makes an attempt to explain everything as quickly as possible and this is like the fourth time this kid has had to explain to someone else what the hell is going on.

Ah, and now everyone’s a bystander.

Almost the entire cast is here now, right? At least Yugi will die with an audience.

Bandit Keith weighs 187 lbs, PS. He is, so far, the only character I’ve checked who weighs more than Yugi with the necklace on.

Anyway, their weights are all awkwardly available online and I’ll probably go back to forgetting that this random info exists (much like I consistently forget that Seto is only 6′1″ although he’s drawn like he’s 8 ft tall)

Next week on Yugioh:

So how much does Yugi’s hair weigh when all that product is on there? Does Seto ever eat that Filet Mignon he craves so bad? Is Mai in fact renting that car and does it get busted here in the Abandoned Warehouse neighborhood?

#Yugioh #yugioh recap #photo recap #S2 Ep 28 #Yugi muto #Joey Wheeler #Marik Ishtar #Serenity Wheeler #Mai Valentine #Duke Devlin #Tristan Taylor #doom clock #Seto Kaiba #Mokuba Kaiba #tw weight

[thatjwguy]

Bullet For My Valentine - Tears don't fall (Lyrics)

Well, not really a better title for this sorta post... i personally have been making amends with my past and or present. This song indirectly says everything that i would like to say in this post to be honest. still i feel i should elaborate to some extent as to not leave people in the dark, i feel like that much is owed to the person who decides to read this post. so before we go further, just know im not a hardcore emo fan, just like this particular song since it speaks volumes to my current situation. Nothing against people who love this style, i see the appeal.

This is going to border on the lines of insanity but its really more of a spiritual issue. How shall i start this trip down my rabbit hole of weirdness. Lets go back 3 or so years ago. This is about the time i had my first breakdown, it was induced by weed but not the cause of it. I was already predisposed to this disorder from the get go, iv done some research on this already. Look up how marijuana does not cause symptoms of schizophrenia but that it can induce it depending upon the individual who uses the substance. just wanted to point these things out in case someone trys to label me a anti-pot advocate or something to that effect.

Im gonna lay this all out as clear as possible but without pointing fingers or making anyone feel bad. This was all my own doing, my mind took a break and decided to go on vacation. I was in this trance-like state for quite awhile after the initial break. I started to see hallucinations, visions, apparitions, hear voices and so on and so forth. Mental illness should never be taken lightly, neither do the spiritual elements to this world we currently live in. Sorry for leaving ya hang for a bit, i just feel these sorta things should be put up front so the reader has and idea of where im coming from. So, lets continue i promise not to go on too long of tangents, at least i hope not. 

Three years is a while to be dealing with stuff like this, it takes a major toll on you as a person. People tend to shrug off stuff like this as if can be as simple as just flipping a switch, let me tell ya, nothing could be further from the truth. While i was in the midst of this mental delusion or breakdown i was also dabbling with the occult to some extent, well i was trying to expose things in the world related to the occult. I listened to people like Alex Jones and other truthers out there on the interwebs. Perhaps i had the break for a reason, since opening your eyes to the world around you really does have a deep impact on you as a human. I guess some people arent ready to be awakened to the matrix, i feel like i fit the bill for that one. 

I was also deep into certain forms of entertainment, which may or may not be within the realm of the occult to some degree. I won't say they are, just that spiritually speaking, we are all exposed to this world, spiritual darkness/light does exist so we must come to terms with this idea right now. These forms of entertainment were that of heavy metal music, horror movies, video games etc. etc. So you could begin to see how this might play a role in someone's environment not being so healthy, not to mention genetic predispositions or trauma experienced during childhood.  So no blame is being put anywhere here, just need to lay it all out there so people can fully understand what could possibly make situations worse for people suffering from these illnesses. 

Again, i must apologize since i do babble, i am laying out the groundwork for how all of this happened and help others understand it better. So in this day we live in people believe in many ideologies. Too many to name right off but i will mention that i did try to do the New Age thing at one point during all this. Since the voices kept insisting this was some form of ascending or something to that effect. You hear terms like this often with New Age beliefs, ascended masters, 3rd eye-opening, gods/goddess, soulmates/twinflames. All sorts of interesting perspectives to the things that are actually happening. I say that since i come from a biblical background, i believe this is just a deception from the Devil, not some form of spiritual awakening (False Awakening). 

I mention the twin flame thing since that seemed to be something they wanted me to know about, they wanted to lead me in a direction that i was somehow spiritually connected to people i was never actually connected to. I fell into a trap in my mind, thinking it was real and that i was somehow connected to celebrities or public figures iv never even met. Just cause my mind was gone, and also since with this belief, people do actually think they are all connected to one another universally or something like that. Like some sort of cosmic beehive that we are all apart of, we can tap into that only if we go through the ranks and reach Christ consciousness. Again i don't believe these things, its just what i see out there. I would encourage you to investigate this for yourself. 

Everyone has the desire to know more about their existence, so thats what i was trying to do. To figure out where i came from or how everything came to be. The problem was my heart/mind was not in the right place. I was doing things for selfish reasons. I not only wanted to be apart of something more than myself, i also wanted to have things i could not have. So perhaps this was that outlet for me, to live out a fantasy of sorts but in a spiritual way since in reality, i knew something like this could not be. I wanted to believe i could connect with people on a conscious leavel, like a telephone call or something like that. With the new age, they say you can tap into that christ like consciousness and experience something along the lines of telepathy.

So, that's how i thought for a while, that the voices were like a telepathic line to some of these people. I fell in love with that idea until i found out it was a deception. Why wouldn't you want to believe you had some sort of ability to talk to people using only your mind. Since my heart was in the wrong place tho, i ended up abusing what i thought was power. I used it to try indirectly message people. Thinking i was actually talking to the people in my head, even though that was never the case. This is why i called it insanity in the beginning, you cant make this stuff up folks, i thought i was talking to people in my head in real life. Not only that but i also had lucid dreams involving those people. So in my reality, this was happening, no matter how you explained it to me. 

This is how the trap was laid out for me, i fell for it hook line and sinker. I also developed an obsession with some of the celebrities associated with the voices in my head. Thinking they knew about all of it too, just not really coming right out and saying it since they don't want to damage their image or make things public you know. I mean really, who would come out and make something like this public, they would look pretty insane just like i am right now. So, let me be clear, iv had psych help and meds help me to come back to reality since all of this happened. I no longer believe any of this, i just think i had a really wild fantasy that turned out to be a spiritual and psychological problem. 

As wild as it may appear, i think many out there do believe these sorta things. Look up youtube videos. People do believe they can have astral sex or spiritual sex with spirits or other people. So, im not that crazy for believing these things. Many people fall into these traps wanting to believe in something more, which isn't all bad, just misguided thats all. My main issue tho is that i was torn between two different women in my head, even more if i wanted to be completely honest with myself. I had talked myself into believing i was telepathically connected to women i would never have a chance with in real life. That they even wanted me at one point... yeah, pretty bizarre thinking pattern i know. So, kids dont do drugs or dabble in the occult cause you might get sucked into thinking you have godlike powers lol. 

I suppose my heart was just torn on the people i admired or had a crush on, perhaps at one point i even considered polyamory as an option. I was so selfish in thinking i could have these things and never really stopping to think, well what do they think about this, or i don't even deserve this at all. Just the gull in that line of thinking alone is enough to make me almost hate myself for even trying to make these fantasy women love me, all of them. I was basically being a player in the spiritual sense. So, yeah, you can guess how all of that played out. Many fights inside my head about beliefs and even with the women in my head. You wanna know what insanity is, try having imaginary voices of pissed off women in your head every day for 3 years. 

You may ask yourself, do i still hear them. Yes to some degree i do, but medications and therapy have helped me cope with all of this. Do i still love the people who are in my head, yes on a human level i still love them very much. Despite it all being just in my head, i just want them to be alright and know i was never trying to hurt them, just wanted to be loved by someone. Yes, it does appear to me that i needed to fix the wrong i had done, even if it was just in my head, the voices are still very real and do get mad when you act out or are a jerk, just like in real life. So i have used that as a tool to help me grow as a person, knowing we are all flawed and make mistakes. I needed to mend my mind and make peace with them. So this is also how im doing that, trying to make peace. 

In the end i was completely off the deep end in all this thinking, now i must live with the choices iv made. Even if iv never really hurt anyone in the real world, i still need to make this right, just on a personal level. Also even in Gods eyes, this could be something very real to him, doing things of that nature. Imagine, people do actually do things of that nature in the real world, play games with people and make them feel like they are the only one. When i reality they are cheating around every corner with some other person, either just because or for other unknown reasons. Maybe they just never see eye to eye or people just want to live that rock n roll style life and bed multiple partners just for the sake of saying they did. For me tho, i really want just one woman, just one who i know will be there for me and will stick with me no matter how hard it gets, Even with my mental illness she sees im a good man, trying to make it work. 

I know a woman like that still exists out there despite all the BS you hear from other men or even women for that matter. Perhaps i will find her in my faith, which is the thing Jehovah God would want, or maybe in the world. Some things are better left unknown. Just know that when the time is right, it will happen, not by force, but just because we are both ready to be in a committed relationship, not matter what gets in our way, we will have faith. Yes, this just turned into a post about me having women trouble, not entirely but yeah, i am pretty caught up in these things in my head so i must be honest with you. So now i guess you have a bit more insight into the way my mind works. Never again will i go into this much detail about my psych break. So consider yourself blessed or cursed with more knowledge of this random dude on the internet. 

Im about done here, so thanks for dropping by to go down this deep pit of my mind. I love you for doing that, just for caring enough to sit through this long and drawn out post about a guy having women problems in his head, its much more than just that but yeah. That's just the overly simplified version of this mess so that i don't get people too confused. Even though im betting you stil are, even i find myself still questioning these things from time to time. Well, that about does it, i have to get going, the voices are telling me i need to go play the new spiderman game that just came out, yes it is very awesome, i would definitely recommend you try it. 

#Feelings #Care #selflove #balance #Love #Hurt #iknowyouhurt #imsorry #forgiveme #thanksforbeingthere #spiritual #mental illness #schizophrenia #bi polar #depression #relationships #guiltytocomhome #tearsdontfall #bfmv #bullet for my valintine #rock #music #awakening #wake up #celbrities #thing #stuff #blogs #vlogs #people

[dear-happypills]

judgehappypills: ORDER, ORDE.

 R, ORDER!!

* i awake in a disoriented state, hearing a muffling of an angry mob in the background

happypills: hhheeellllooo?????! are you awake?? hellllooo????

me: yea, .. yea. where are we?

happypills: oh bRAH. what a wild ride; thought you werent gonna makeee it.

judgehappypills: YOU SHALL BE SPOKEN WHEN SPOKEN TO! SILENCE!

**crowd silences. i look back behind me and there are thousands of happypills.... (all pouty and angry and shit)

me: ... im... am i dreaming?

**before happypills answers

judgehappypills: pWUH? dreaming?? I ASSURE YoU THIS IS REAL -- you stand here today before the Pillsian Order, and the fellow pills of Happy Town for high crimes and treason against Chemistry

happypills: LOLLL. well your honor, noones accused us of HIGH crimes before.

me: ... hehehehehehe.

**background mob erupts again vocalizing their discontent, the clamor of voices get louder  

        happypills #2432:  HEATHENS!!! 

   happypills #0531: flush em!       happypills #1051: thinkthatsfunny?!?

                                        happypills #6029  ASSHOLES

             happypills #8023: getemjudgee!    

     happypills #5209:  PILL YOU, PILLING PILL

*happypills waves his arms down to calm the crowd down and speaks up

happypills: WHOAAAHHh< WHOAHHH..... calllm down fellow pills! i agree with most of what you all said but asshole is just uncalled for!

** crowd clamors again but judge intervenes

happypillsjudge: ORDER! ORDER! ORDER!

happypills: *whispers to me   don’t worry brooohh; ivebeen here before. i got this.

happypillsjudge: you, happypills “unprescribed” have been ex-pilliated from our Pillsian Order for your treacherous ways, and now you’ve brought this monstrosity before us.

happypills: butyourhonor, we did nothin!

happypillsjudge: there has been reports of a distrubance in the cosmic order -- an imbalance of Chemistry caused by your fellow comrade.

happypills: AWWW SHIT.  **turning towards me  YO BROH! I TOLD YOU THAT ALL THAT PORN WAS FINALLY GONNA CATCH UP.

happypillsjudge: SILENCE!   **turns towards me  you are brought here today for communicating with the unforseen forces: there are testimonies from sources that your dissension with Pain has caused quite the commotion; harassed passing Clouds; flirted with Pleasure; assaulted Cupid; botching your own Heart surgery-- AND performing such operation without any accredited license; i mean... the LIST GOES ON, BUTTTTTT  perhaps the worst is communicating with your DEAD SELF** crowd gasps and whispers in disbelief; some pills vomit and other cry in horror

me: ????? i uh... was an accomplice for the assault and kidnap of Cupid with my partner here -- and to be fair it was Valentines Day. Also, Pleasure totally came onto me, but um, i never communed with my dead self.....

happypillsjudge: how dare you lie! all and any of these communication with the unforeseen forces is condemnable-- such acts require a chemical imbalance; it stirs an energy so dark it repels the very nature of space time!!!!! 

me: aoohhh...          .... ..  well, oh shit;  it’s not like i meant to do it though. 

happypills: wait, wait. YOU CAN TALK TO YOUR FUTURE DEAD SELF???!!!!!

me:  we didn’t even really talk. he just was surprised i was alive. and i was like why, why is that weird? and he was like, yea, just weird. and i was like how does that even make sense, yah know? cuz he came to talk to me, so id probably should be alive right??? and then he goes asking me am i dead??? and im like yo, shouldn’t you tell me?...

happypills: uh huh, mmm what happened next???/

me: ////.... . well. i, .... i uh fell asleep.

happypills: -_- YOU FELL ASLEEEP?

happypillsjudge: SILENCE! do you expect us to believe that?? how could one preposterously fall asleep in such moment.

me: dontjudgeme for being tired when that asshole came to me.... OR MAYBE HE WAS ONLY ABLE TO COME BECAUSE I WASNT IN A LUCID STATE???  huh?

happypills:   =O  .... he makes a very compelling case your honor.

happypillsjudge: ** to happypills  -_- shut up.   ** to me and how can you prove this??

me: prove? ......................................whu.....  are you high????

** crowd gasps and all pills in the back go silent; i look around to see the pills and whisper to happypills

me: ... bruh,.... whattheshit.... wherethefuckdidyoubringmeh.... im reallytrpping out and therearefuckin thousandsof .... you, things that all loook like you ... realllypissed atus... im freakingout. im likereallyfrea

** happypills slaps me and turns towards the judge

happypills: ... your honor............................ **sighs   you honor, i. invoke the Pill of Rights.

happypillsjudge: OVERRULLED -- you are “unprescribed” and therefore the Pill of Rights do not apply to yo...

happypills: your honor -- are you high??? imnottheone on trial; i mean for HIM.

** crowd gasps. judge narrows its eyes and rubs its fingers on its chin, contemplating happypills request.

...

.

.

.

FART

....................... TO BE CONTINUED..................

.

ornot.

- happypills

#happypills

[moonlight-pirate]

Why I vanished

So this text post has been a loooong time coming, mates.

I haven’t been nearly as active in the past couple months as I have wanted to be. Both cause my phone broke, and life. A few know I got a new phone but…

Well depression has been horrid.

And here we go into the long wall of text. I am going to do some trigger warnings now. Sickness, death, depression, ahead.

About…by the gods I guess almost two years ago my mom…she got sick. Well her illness got worse.

She was in Florida to pack up my grandma’s estate after my grandma had passed. And suddenly my mom’s health took a bad turn.

She was only supposed to be gone a week or two.

It was closer to a month.

My dad actually flew out to go see her.

It was that bad.

He came back…the news…it was grim.

We shouldn’t expect her to live ten more years. She could. But she could also die tomorrow.

I was…25. Maybe just turned 26.

My twin and I were not prepared for that news.

We retreated from the world. Only really going to our larps

Or try to get out of the house by going to the library. Something. Just to escape.

But my mom was a fighter. Let me tell you. She was convinced she was going to die in some hospital in Florida away from her family.

And her dog

She wasn’t having it.

And….her health improved.

Enough that after a month or two…she came home.

But…she couldn’t walk well…she slept mostly on the couch. But she was home.

We were glad. We hoped. Pepper the dog was ecstatic her mom was home.

My twin and I helped take care of her.

During this time I got Qingli, I will go in another post why I got her. And soon after Chad.

Twin already got Raymond.

We took pictures.

Things…weren’t ideal. But we were managing.

My mom, gods she was an amazing woman. She fought and managed to walk a bit. Went to physical therapy.

Was so proud when she managed the steps.

…but suddenly it got worse. And back to the hospital.

…it was like this for months.

A year. She would do well. And…then not do well.

She had to be moved to a rehab place. She wasn’t getting the help she needed at home.

My mom was a fighter.

But got loopy around my 27th.

Thanksgiving came. We visited her. She was lucid!

She knew the day. She was talking. We had fun! Sure we didn’t have a meal. But who gives a shit. We had her.

…on the way to a larp in…december/January…my brother sent a text.

She had been intubated.

She could die.

Twin and I were three hours away…we didn’t drive.

We had no way to get to her.

She lived.

But she was…not always lucid…

We visited her.

I won’t describe the state she was in…

She wasn’t awake.

We visited again. She…wasn’t aware.

Christmas came. She wasn’t awake.

The prognosis was…grim.

Then one time…one a lucid moment. She had expressed a desire to be…off the machines.

And then another time of staying on.

We visited her.

I asked if she was in pain.

She mouthed yes.

Twin and I cried.

That was the last time I saw her lucid.

There were two calls where we got the…the call that she wasn’t going to make it through the night.

It wasn’t even 2017.

Each time we rushed. Rented a hotel. Stayed close by.

She pulled through.

New year came. We visited.

Valentines came and went.

I kept sending pictures of her dog.

I know she couldn’t see them. But Pepper was her dog.

…6 days pass.

We get the call.

My brother drives my twin and I there.

It isn’t good.

We visit her.

She isn’t aware.

We speak…we tell stories.

Couple hours pass.

I am hoping it was a false alarm.

…I nap.

Her heart rate continues to drop.

We go to the room tell stories.

My dad, who has been at the hospital through out all this, a man I can count on one hand how many times I have seen him cry, is holding back tears.

He asks for five minutes.

We give him more time.

After ten my twin and I head back.

She is gone…passed away on 2/20.

My mom was a fighter till the end.

But she was gone.

Depression sat in for months…

It still feels unreal even as I write this.

My dolls remained in their boxes. Games went unplayed.

I missed larps. Table tops.

I retreated from the world.

…I am only starting to step back out into it. It still scares me. But…I got a job. I am starting again to take those steps.

Because my mom was a fighter.

Mates…treasure those you consider family, by blood or by connections.

Let them know you love them.

TL:DR; Personal life issues has kept me away. I am hoping to be more active.

#text post #my life #trigger warning #death #depression #explanation #hospital #sickness #bjd mentioned