#anch clothing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

potential-fool · 1 year

Text

Valorant x Reader: You in their clothes

This was fun to write hkhgfhgdjfh

Paring: Sova, Pheonix, Yoru x reader

Tags: Fluff, Established relationship, sharing clothes, teasing

Sova

Will 110% be left slack jawed

The amount of adoration this man has for you

Every neuron in his brain is firing rn

Bro is absolutely flabbergasted

It was a pretty calm morning at the agency, lucky for you there wasn't much to do today; because of this, you didn't let Sasha's alarm go off and rouse him, you knew he needed the rest. You thought it might be a good idea to surprise him with something nice, a smile drew across your face as you knew exactly what you were going to do.

When Sova woke up, he felt surprisingly well rested and was equally as shocked to realize that his alarm didn't go off- he looked over yo your side of the bed. Empty. He was worried for a moment before catching the smell of something being made in the kitchen, with only his grey sweatpants and without a second thought he made his way out into the kitchen where he saw you.

Good god were you a sight to see, his jaw hit the floor at the sight of you in his shirt, only his shirt. Shades of pink and red dusted his otherwise pale face as he took a moment to take in your beauty, the beauty of you, in his clothes.

"My dove.." He couldn't even finish his sentence, instead opting to come up behind you and bury his head in your neck pressing himself up to you and smothering you with kisses.

After breakfast there was definitely more then just kisses and cuddles though ;)

Pheonix

Giddy and excited while he picks you up and spins you around

he's hyping you up

Will probably want to try on your clothes after

dork

It started with his jacket, you were in a silly goofy mood as you like to put it. then it was his shirts, and now you've taken a shoelace out of an old pair of shoes to use as belt to keep a pair of his sweatpants up around your waist. You were proud of your ingenuity and smiled to yourself as you looked in the mirror.

You wandered out with your new outfit into the living area of the Valorant HQ, playing down your excitement as you walked out and greeted your friends, Jett, Yoru, and Pheonix were on the couch and Sage was in the kitchen. Jett and Yoru were both totally in on this plan of yours and Jett had quietly started recording as you caught Pheonix's eye.

Pheonix was, ho boy- he was stunned, his face starting to burn up with blush, Yoru started to snicker at this, earning himself a playful smack from Pheonix before he got up to embrace (tackle) you.

"BHABBBBBEEYYY, youresoprettyandohmygodiloveyousomuchwhatwoudlsndahwdklw-"

Pheonix's jumbled mess of words earned laughter from his friends, though he paid them no mind, instead opting to spin you around and press kisses all over your face.

Sage chuckled to herself as she watched the display, glad they could find these moments of peace.

Yoru

This man is too shy to admit your rock his jacket

Smitten and overprotective

he wants to be the only one allowed to see you like this

he def doesn't think anyone else is worthy of the sight of you in his clothes

Yoru doesn't like sharing, this is a well known fact. You love to tease people, especially Yoru, this is another well known fact. So today in your ongoing and never-ending crusade to mess with your boyfriend you decided to one of his shirts and his jacket.

Yoru was alone with a book on the couch at Valorant HQ and when you walked in he mindlessly greeted you before doing a double take-

"Is that-" He couldn't even finish his sentence as he took in the sight of you in his clothes. "What's wrong baby?" You teased as you walked over, taking the book from his hands and sitting down in his lap.

"Idiot.." He mumbled, blush tinting his cheeks as he drew you in close to him, a loving- though also possessive- hold.

From around the corner Jett and Pheonix were watching with slack jawed grins, though.. Pheonix's camera flash gave them away.

"Pheonix and Jett, you have five seconds." Yoru called into the room, sending a rift anchor after them as they both started to book it, laughter echoing through the hall. He set you down onto the couch, pressing a small kiss to your cheek before opening a rift to the anchor he'd sent after the two.

He'd never hear the end of this.

#valorant x reader #valorant #yoru x reader #sova x reader #sova x you #valorant yoru #valorant sova #valorant fic #valorant fluff #valorant phoenix #pheonix x reader #pheonix x you #valorant hcs

820 notes · View notes

leezlelatch · 6 months

Text

The Fluffy Papa Series: Part 1

Alyssum

A Primo Story

No plot, no drama, no sad. Just fluff. Can be slightly suggestive. Fem reader.

Tiny rocks scrape and crunch beneath your boots as you walk the pebbled path toward the Ministry greenhouse. Wisteria hangs from the lattice framed above the door, interlaced with ivy which blankets the facade and reaches with eager fingers across the roof. Potted plants litter the ground of various shapes and sizes, the stone patio wet from a recent watering.

“Did you have a nice drink?” You question the plants, smiling softly as you continue through the greenhouse door which hangs slightly ajar as if expecting your arrival. The smell of soil and freshly cut flowers greets you upon your entrance, and you take a moment to breathe in the space. Primo’s space.

Primo prefers to do his gardening outside, the greenhouse used mostly as a workshop and a place for his little experiments. You step around a few stray gardening tools, following your nose to the beautiful bouquet expertly potted on a little table fit with a lace cloth. You lean forward to take in the honey-like fragrance, your smile growing. Each day, a new flower. A new meaning. Primo always says each flower tells a story. And these stories are for you.

“Alyssum,” Primo’s warmly accented voice sends a butterfly fluttering about your stomach, and you turn to watch as he takes off his soil-stained gloves, laying them casually to the side. “Worth beyond beauty. And you, my petal, are worth far more than any flower I have ever grown.” His lips twitch with a smile. “Sì, you are beautiful as well. Perhaps tomorrow will be purple heather.”

You turn and delicately pick one of the blooms from the bouquet, approaching Primo with a blushing smile. He chuckles softly, his well-used hands reaching out to settle upon your hips the moment you are close enough. You hold out the flower, “And for my Papa? Whose green thumb, clever mind, and sweet nature are invaluable. And very much loved.”

Primo hums, his hands sliding higher, fingers squeezing and massaging your sides. He lets go of one to take the bloom and bring it to his hooked nose, inhaling deeply with a gentle sigh. A slow smirk crosses his thin lips, and he bops you on the head with the flower. “Sweet, my petal? You know more than anyone how passionate my true nature can be.” Primo’s words end on a soft growl and he pulls you closer, his head dipping into the crook of your neck. You squirm and giggle against him as he bites playfully at your soft skin, soothing it with his tongue. Your hands come to settle on his shoulders and you relax in his grip, sighing gently. Your eyes flutter shut as Primo drags a wet line to the shell of your ear. “Ti amo.”

A tiny squeak of happiness erupts from your throat, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Primo grins, dropping another kiss to your neck. “Hmm, my petal?” He murmurs softly. “Does that make you happy?”

“Very happy, Primo,” you say, your voice dreamy. You place a hand on his wrinkled cheek, feeling how soft the sagging skin is under your fingertips. “Oh! And…anc…anche…io?”

“Anche io, sì,” Primo encourages, smoothing a few flyaway hairs back from your forehead. “Very good! Learning more every day, amore. I am very proud.”

“It’s just a few words,” you say a little sheepishly, glancing to the side.

Primo catches your chin with a thumb and forefinger, drawing your gaze back to his. “A few words that make my heart sing. It’s how you are willing to learn that makes me proud, not how quickly or how well.” He tickles your side and you can’t help but laugh, the sound of your happiness warming even an old man’s cheeks. “Do not worry, tesoro. You will be able to eavesdrop on my brothers’ conversations soon enough.” Primo’s eyes twinkle as you gasp, and he swallows your rebuttal with a kiss. He tastes of rosehips.

“Did I interrupt tea time?” You ask softly when you part, your lips brushing against his as you speak, neither of you willing to part fully.

“Interrupt? Non essere sciocca! Do not be silly. You improve it,” Primo takes your hands, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “Rosehips for the arthritis, il mio amore for the soul.” He brings your hands to his lips and you beam, turning your hands in his to rub gently at his aching joints. Primo smiles sweetly at you for the gesture, his grip tightening as he pulls you toward his little parlor set up in a corner of the greenhouse.

You delicately step over pots, and watch out for his propagating babies, ducking under drying herbs, and avoiding bubbling beakers on bunsen burners. Primo walks amongst it all, well-practiced and unworried, depositing you with a kiss into your favorite high backed chair: pink, and patched, and plush. You sit contentedly as he sets about preparing fresh tea things, humming some old Italian love song as he takes out a tin of loose tea. “Il mio amore’s favorite,” he mumbles to himself with a small nod, shaking the tin as if to accentuate his point.

“Four sugars, please!” You say, leaning back in your chair with a broad smile. Primo glances at you with a raised brow, placing the kettle on the hot plate. “Or maybe five, I’ll have to taste it first,” you continue.

“How about we make it two,” Primo chuckles, approaching your chair. He makes a gesture with both of his hands to rise, and you stand. Primo takes your seat and then slowly pulls you down onto his lap, adjusting you here and there so you’re both comfortable. “Don’t give me that pout.” His finger taps your bottom lip. “I won’t have you diluting the flavor.”

You sigh, and in favor of replying, you nuzzle your nose into his cheek. You drape an arm loosely over his shoulders while your other hand becomes occupied greebling his ear. You press little kisses on his face, and Primo practically coos. His hands can’t decide where they want to touch, his fingers traveling up your spine, over your thighs, across your stomach. They eventually settle on cradling your face. Primo looks at you with unfettered adoration, his eyelids hooded and mouth drawn into a lovesick smile.

“I do not know what I did,” he whispers. “To deserve you. But I will pray to Lucifer every day to keep you.”

You close your eyes and focus on the feeling of his gnarled hands on your cheeks. Your fingertips explore the wrinkled and rough skin of his face, the wiry white hairs which are barely hanging on atop his head, the divots across his forehead, and the sagging skin of his neck. Alyssum. Worth beyond beauty. Primo earned every line of his face from hard work, dedication, and a life as well-lived as any of us could wish for. And a love like his? Completely worth it.

#the band ghost #fluffy papa series #fluff #papa emeritus i #primo emeritus #papa emeritus primo #papa emeritus i x female reader #papa emeritus i x reader #reader insert #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost headcanons

94 notes · View notes

theraggedygirl11 · 3 months

Text

Kad nemam tebe sa mnom su moji demoni

Part 1

SUMMARY: Kris is a succubus, but he hates what he is and what he's forced to do for his demon sire. Then he meets a photographer, Damon, and something special blooms between them.

PAIRING: Kris Guštin/Damon Baker

WARNINGS: (kinda implied) drug and alcohol abuse, implied non-con (not between Kris/Damon), sex (not too explicit), hurt/comfort, angst/fluff, swearing

WORDS COUNT: 2.434

LINK: AO3

NOTES: Before diving into the first chapter of this short fic, I'd like to thank @anxious-witch for beta-reading it and giving me really good advice while I was writing it and @lahobbitdiazeroth for fangirling with me, even if she's not in the fandom (kinda).

This is my first ever work I publish in English. I got inspired by Hazbin Hotel and Damon's photoshoot with our guys, and I had to write something.

I'm sorry for the angst you'll find in it, but you know who to blame.

If you want to listen to the song that inspired me, here's a link. There's also an English version (and maybe one in your own language, this series got translated into many languages). Keep in mind that it mentions toxic relationships, abuse and trauma.

È un inferno tutto mio (This hell is all mine)

Me lo sono scelto io (And I chose all of this)

Tu sei il mio veleno (You are my poison)

Dammi il tuo veleno (Give me your poison)

Non possono farne a meno (I can’t help it)

Mi scivola in gola e va giù (It slithers into my throat and goes down)

Veleno, ne sono pieno (Poison, I’m full of it)

Anche questa notte per me forse è l’ultima (This night could be my last one too)

Dimmi che ti piace, baby (Tell me you like it, baby)

Sono tuo, fa ciò che più ti va (I’m yours, do whatever you want)

Un giorno tu mi ucciderai (One day you’ll kill me)

Col tuo veleno (With your poison)

“I took enough pictures.” Said the photographer after a couple of hours, smiling at his model.

Kris looked at the guy in front of him, hair almost as black as coal and deep dark brown eyes, then stood up from the ground. He was used to being alone with other men, but the more he was with this human, the more he felt a weird feeling growing inside of him. He didn’t know how to name this sensation.

“May I go, then?” Kris asked.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll call you when the pictures are ready.” The photographer nodded. “If you need to recompose yourself, you can stay here, I’ll give you some privacy.”

“No, don’t worry. It’s ok.”

Kris glanced at the human, then went to the wardrobe area to change his clothes. He felt his eyes on his body. Why was he feeling so uncomfortable? God damn, he was a fucking succubus, he shouldn’t feel like this when a human was staring at him! Because that photographer was enchanted by his beauty, right? He should be.

But Kris perceived this specific human in a completely different way because he was looking at him differently, like he wanted to analyse him. Look right into his soul. If only he still had one.

* * *

Another night, another lover, another soul to bring closer to damnation. It didn’t matter if it was a male or a female human being. He still enjoyed the physical proximity, the skin-on-skin contact, the moans. He was still a demon that fed on pleasure and sexual intercourses.

But that night his mind flew to another place, even if the man above and inside him was extremely gorgeous and he liked how he moved and his attention on him. For a moment he saw that photographer instead of this random human. He didn’t even remember his name. But, just for a second, he imagined he was there, with him, loving him.

He closed his eyes and let an intense moan out. No, he needed to focus on this other man, on his soul, his job was to corrupt it. Thus, he closed the image of the photographer in a small and secluded corner of his mind and gave all his attention to this stranger.

At the same moment, not so far from where Kris was, that same photographer, whose name was Damon, was checking the photos he took of that beautiful and young man. His mind went back to a couple of days before when he had met him in a cafe in the centre of Ljubljana. He was alone at a table, his glance was wandering around observing the people in that place. Damon had noticed a trace of sombreness in his bright blue-greenish eyes.

He decided to approach him, talk to him, be friendly to him before asking him to take some pictures. The guy seemed kind, but there was a trace of sadness even in his voice. And he could see it even more in his photos. Kris, that was his name, was trying to be seductive, but that gloom was still perceivable behind his piercing look.

Damon stopped his scrolling on a photo where Kris was standing against a wall, head slightly tilted on a side, hair covering one of his eyes, an arm raised and bent behind his head. He was wearing a simple white shirt with long sleeves. His golden necklace with a purple heart was visible around his neck. The heart was hidden by the shirt, but he knew it was there because he had seen it.

Maybe he could contact him and try to talk to him to see if he could help him in some way. He seemed like he needed to talk to someone.

The next morning he tried to call him. Someone else answered the phone, he didn’t recognize the voice.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Is... is this Kris Guštin?” Damon asked.

“This is his phone, yes, but I’m a police officer.”

“A police officer? What happened?” He pressed, apprehension in his voice.

“The guy was arrested yesterday evening. He started a fight in a pub. He was completely wasted, high and drunk.”

Damon’s eyes opened widely. His face paled. “Is he still at the police station?”

“Yes. Are you a friend of his?”

“Kind of, yes.”

“You can come and take him away, if you want. He won’t be charged, he’s an habitue here.”

“I-I’m coming.” He quickly replied, then ended the call. An habitue? Drugs and alcohol? Was he so that deeply stuck in his bad situation?

He immediately went to the police station, without thinking twice about it. Kris was locked in a cell, alone and with handcuffs on his wrists. He looked like a model even in that moment, back laid against the wall, vacant eyes staring in front of him like he was lost in his own world. And that usual gloom in them.

“Your friend here came for you, Guštin.” Said the police officer.

The demon turned to look at him and was surprised to see the photographer. He stood up and got closer to the entrance of the cell. The police officer freed him from the handcuffs, then gave him his phone back and let him go with Damon.

“Thank you.” Whispered Kris once they got out of the police station. He let his phone slip inside one pocket in his trousers, then put his hands in his jacket pockets.

“I know you don’t know me, but what happened? Is... is everything ok?” Damon was more than worried, Kris could hear the concern in his words.

“Yes.” he replied. “Everything’s ok.”

“You used drugs. You drank, a lot. That’s not ok.”

“I’m fine.” He almost snarled at him, turning his head towards the photographer. “Why did you come, anyway?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Damon explained. “You seemed lonely and sad. I was worried.”

Kris blinked and winced a bit. He was truly worried? His senses weren’t wrong, then.

“I’m... fine, I told you.”

“I know you don’t know me.” He repeated then continued. “But I’m here, if you want to talk to me.” The human smiled shyly, yet he could see friendliness in his eyes. He didn’t perceive any lust coming from him.

“Thanks.” He murmured.

* * *

In the next weeks Kris kept doing his job as succubus. Almost every day he had at least one new lover, male or female it didn’t matter. His sire chose each new prey for him and he couldn’t refuse.

But he also started going out with the photographer. He learned his name, Damon. He was a lovely person. He didn’t talk much, however he compensated for it with his presence. His closeness was uncomfortable at the beginning, but after a few times the demon started appreciating it.

The moments spent with Damon quickly became the most awaited ones for the succubus. He started laughing at his jokes, he talked more, he even shared some bits of his life, obviously he kept them pretty vague. He couldn’t tell him he was a demon. He needed this friendship. He missed being human, having friends to hang out with.

Kris loved when Damon talked about his job. He could almost physically touch the passion he radiated when explaining his art and his vision.

“And you saw all of this in me?”

“Yes. And even more.” Damon nodded, then looked at him. “There’s a whole world behind those sad eyes and I wanted to eternalize them.”

“A world behind them?”

“Yes. I see that you are happier since we started hanging out, but there’s always a shadow in them, sometimes it’s nearer, sometimes it’s in the back, but it’s always present, lurking around. There’s something in your life that makes you feel sad, that maybe you’d like to change but for some reason you can’t.” He gently touched one of Kris’s hands.

The demon was petrified. How...? He read right through him like an open book. Was it because he was an artist? Did artists like him have a different way of seeing life and people?

“I want you to know that I’m still here for you, if you want to talk about whatever is making you feel this lost.” Damon looked right into his eyes. Kris felt his heart falter.

He wanted to scream, to say out loud that he didn’t want to be a succubus anymore, that he was tired of being a slave and following every order his sire gave him, that he just wanted to become a human again, go back and not say “yes” to that contract. His mouth opened to speak, but no sounds left it.

Damon was human. He wouldn’t understand. He would probably think that he was crazy, that drugs and alcohol destroyed his mind and his ability to think with clarity. He was his little happy bubble in between a huge red and black world overruled by pain, suffering and damnation.

“It’s... complicated, Damon. Too complicated.” He whispered in the end, closing his eyes. A tear ran down his face, but never reached his chin because a gentle touch caught it.

“When you are ready, Kris.” Damon murmured with a tender voice. “Only when you are ready. I’ll wait, even years, if it’s necessary for you to be comfortable enough to speak about it.”

Kris startled and sobbed. His heart was hit by an invisible dagger. How could a human soul be so kind? How could two creatures so different like them meet? Damon behaved like a blessed soul from heaven with him, a damned soul transformed into a being of corruption.

Damon took Kris into his arms and gently stroked his hair. The succubus grabbed his shirt, he was his safety net and he didn’t want to let him go.

But he had to. His sire called him that evening and he punished him for behaving like a pathetic child with that human. This time he had three lovers, three muscular men. He felt stronger, the energy radiating from them was so delicious and so invigorating that he had to close his eyes because his head was spinning, but they were rough and violent with him. And so went on for seven days.

Damon saw Kris again a week after their last afternoon together. He appeared in front of his door during a night storm, completely wet and with a tired, distant look in his eyes.

“Kris, what happened?” He immediately asked.

“Can-can I come in?” Kris replied, his voice was trembling and his entire figure was shaking. He wrapped his own arms around his body.

Damon let him in, closing the door behind him, then rushed to get a big towel from the bathroom. He put it around Kris while guiding him to the couch. He sat down next to him.

“Dear, what happened?” He asked again.

Kris slowly showed his trembling arm, the interior part of his forearm was filled with small red holes, clearly signs of syringe pricks. His hand was twitching. Damon turned white.

“Who did this to you?” He pressed, extremely concerned. “You need to go to a hospital, right now, you could have an overd-”

“I’m fine.” Kris managed to say. “I-I will be. Few hours.”

Kris moved his arm nearer to his body, but Damon grabbed his wrist with care. “You could die.”

He shook his head vehemently. “I won’t die. I can’t die. Not like this.”

“Kris, you are a human being, drugs can kill y-”

“Stop worrying about me!” he shouted. “I will be fine.” He repeated it like a mantra. If he kept saying these words, they would become true eventually, wouldn’t they?

He closed his eyes. “P-please, I just need a safe place to stay. You... you are the only person I know here.”

Damon let him take a shower, a long and hot one. He also lent him some dry clothes and prepared some food for him. Kris ate without saying a word while keeping his eyes low. His hands suffered less spams, the drugs’ effects were dissolving pretty quickly.

Damon continued observing Kris. The summer storm outside didn’t give any sign of wanting to calm down, in that moment there was a bright lightning and a loud thunder. The thunderbolt lighted up the whole room and Damon noticed a weird shadow around Kris, like he had some sort of wings closed behind his back. He shook his head, he must have been tired to see things that didn’t exist.

An hour later Kris was sleeping in Damon’s bed, his face was more relaxed. Damon was totally awake on the other side of the bed. He was observing the younger man. He didn’t see anything else weird on him, but he remembered he noticed some weird shadows in some of the pictures he took months ago.

Damon grabbed his laptop, opened it and searched for those photos. He observed them attentively and he saw something indeed. In some of them the “wings” were barely visible, but they were there. In other pictures he saw weird horns rise from his forehead. In some others there was some sort of tail around Kris.

They were just shadows or reflections, but those elements were there. Was this possible? Or was it a weird coincidence? Kris didn’t have wings or a tail, or even horns! He turned to look at him while he was sleeping. Should he ask Kris what was that?

Damon put away his laptop and laid down, turned towards Kris. In the dim light of the room he examined him: he seemed relaxed and peaceful while he was resting, he couldn’t see anything weird on him. Could he really be some supernatural creature? While he kept thinking about this possibility, he slowly drifted off, the tiredness winning on his restless whirl of thoughts.

#damkris #kris guštin #annies writes #my writing #joker out fanfic #joker out #kad nemam tebe sa mnom su moji demoni

17 notes · View notes

gabihime-jegulusseeker · 6 months

Text

marauders x maneskin songs

Regulus & James

(specific parts for each one of them):

Regulus:

È una bambina però sente come un peso

E prima o poi si spezzerà

La gente dirà, "Non vale niente"

Non riesce neanche a uscire da una misera porta

translation:

( She's just a kid, but she feels something weighing on her

And sooner or later she'll break

And people will say "she's worth nothing

She can't even walk out of a miserable door")

Ma Coraline non vuole mangiare, no

Sì, Coraline vorrebbe sparire

E Coraline piange

Coraline ha l'ansia

Coraline vuole il mare ma ha paura dell'acqua

E forse il mare è dentro di lei

translation

(But Coraline doesn't want to eat, no

Yes, Coraline would rather disappear

And Coraline cries

Coraline has anxiety

Coraline is longing for the sea, but is afraid of the water

And maybe the sea is inside her)

James:

Coraline bella come il sole

Guerriera dal cuore zelante

Capelli come rose rosse

Preziosi quei fili di rame, amore, portali da me

Se senti campane cantare

Vedrai Coraline che piange

Che prende il dolore degli altri

E poi lo porta dentro lei

translation:

(Coraline, as beautiful as the sun

Warrior with a zealous heart

Hair like red roses

Those precious copper strings, my love, bring them to me

If you hear bells singing

You'll see Coraline crying

Taking in other people's pain

And then carry it within her)

jegulus:

Sarò il fuoco ed il freddo

Riparo d'inverno

Sarò ciò che respiri

Capirò cos'hai dentro

E sarò l'acqua da bere

Il significato del bene

Sarò anche un soldato

O la luce di sera

E in cambio non chiedo niente

Soltanto un sorriso

Ogni tua piccola lacrima è oceano sopra al mio viso

E in cambio non chiedo niente

Solo un po' di tempo

Sarò vessillo, scudo

O la tua spada d'argento

translation:

(I'll be the fire and the cold

A winter shelter

I'll be what you breathe

I'll understand what you hold inside

And I'll be the water you drink

The meaning of good

I'll even be a soldier

Or a light in the evening

I ask for nothing in return

Just a smile

Every little tear of yours is an ocean on my face

And I ask for nothing in return

Just a little time

I'll be a battle banner, a shield

Or your silver sword)

Sirius

specific parts translation:

I hear a thousand voices speaking, but I don't hear what they're saying

I look in the mirror and I imagine to be in a circus

On a merry-go-round of happiness and I don't want to get off of it

Even if I'm not having fun anymore

Sometimes I feel like a miracle and sometimes ridiculous

Then I lose my mind in a second, but don't go tell it around

I'm out of myself

............

I've been preparing my waltz with the devil

Since I was a child

You can call me crazy, bastard, insane

I'll toast over it with wine

I’m only 20 Therefore don’t be surprised if I make drama from nothing I’m afraid of leaving only money to the world For my name to disappear between those of all the others But I’m only 20 And I already ask forgiveness for the mistakes that I committed But the road is tougher when you’re aiming for the sky So choose the things that are really important Choose love or diamonds Demons or saints

Marlene:

Marlena, win over this evening Take everything that you might need and be sincere Open the sail, come on, travel lightly Show beauty to this people

Marlena, win over this night Strip black Take everything that you might need and be sincere Open the sail Come on, travel lightly Show beauty to this people and I

Remus

They don't know what I'm talking about Clothes are dirty, bro, of mud Cig's yellow in between the fingers I'm walking with a cig Pardon me, but I really do believe That I can make this jump And even if the street is uphill I'm training for this now

#marauders #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #merodeadores #sirius black #starchaser #james x regulus #remus lupin #sunseeker #wolfstar #marlene mckinnon #maneskin #headcanon #marauders incorrect quotes #marauders headcanon #marauders songs

34 notes · View notes

itastrologia · 1 year

Text

astro notes | one

—🥪 Venus or Ascendant in Leo may like wearing animal print, specially leopard print clothing. I'm thinking of leopard coats 🐆👑

—🥪The 3rd house pertains to television content that is liked or loved the most watching, based on its sign. Example: Aries in the 3rd house cusp could love action shows or real-life based tv movies.

—🥪Mars in Scorpio could have be prone to have tattoos specially of something symbolizing Scorpio itself.

—🥪Sagittarius Jupiter has a plethora of dreams/wishes to be hopeful about. Perhaps, even a liking for knowing everything more than anyone else. It gives a rush of motivation and adrenaline.

Might even have loving and lenient grandparents (Jupiter represents grand-parents, too)

—🥪Lilith at 9 degrees could have an attraction towards esoteric practices of a shady nature or might even know a lot of it already or else, might even believe in magick. There's a lot of taboo surrounding such practices.

—🥪Vesta in the 6th house takes routine as a pretty sacred thing. There's the possibility of becoming a nun or doing volunteerism for disadvantaged people.

❤️‍🔥

-🥪 A Venere o all'Ascendente in Leone può piacere indossare abiti con stampe animali, in particolare leopardati. Sto pensando a cappotti leopardati, adesso 🤭

-🥪 La terza casa riguarda i contenuti televisivi che piacciono o che si amano di più guardando, in base al loro segno. Esempio: L'Ariete nella cuspide della 3a casa potrebbe amare i programmi d'azione o i telefilm basati sulla vita reale.

-🥪Marte in Scorpione potrebbe avere tatuaggi, specialmente di qualcosa che rappresenta lo Scorpione stesso.

-🥪Giove in Sagittario ha una marea di sogni/desideri in cui sperare. Forse, anche è propenso a voler sapere tutto più di chiunque altro. Gli dà grinta.

Potrebbe anche avere nonni amorevoli e indulgenti (Giove rappresenta anche i nonni) che gli danno tutto quello che vuole.

-🥪La Lilith a 9 gradi potrebbe essere attratta dalle pratiche esoteriche di natura oscura o potrebbe addirittura conoscerne già molte, oppure potrebbe addirittura credere nella magia. C'è molto tabù a riguardo.

-🥪 L'asteroide Vesta nella 6ª casa considera la routine come una cosa assai sacra. C'è la possibilità di diventare suora o di fare volontariato per le persone svantaggiate, ad esempio.

Thank you for reading!!! 🤭😘

#astro observations #astrologia #astrology #astrology community #astro notes

71 notes · View notes

a-tarassia · 10 months

Text

È un concetto semplice. Ogni cittadino crea, con ciò che fa o non fa, delle reazioni, crea un prodotto, che sia materiale o non materiale, che può portare un cambiamento nella vita della società di cui il cittadino fa parte. È quindi necessario che l’individuo sia cosciente di ciò e agisca per il bene di tutti, per creare valore. Idealmente. Il valore può essere di tutti i tipi, anche solo sicurezza o solidarietà o anche conoscenza o bellezza e armonia.

In economia viene chiamata esternalità l’effetto che le azioni di consumo o di produzione di un soggetto ha sugli altri soggetti. Anche un parcheggio fatto male, per esempio quando trovate una macchina piazzata in mezzo tra due posti, crea una esternalità negativa. Chi arriva dopo non riesce a parcheggiare né in uno né nell’altro posto. Il famosissimo caffè sospeso a Napoli è un tipico esempio di esternalità positiva. Chi prende il caffè al bar e decide di lasciarne uno pagato regala un sorriso e un caffè ad un’altra persona. La fabbrica di Gentilini che sta sulla tiburtina a Roma sforna biscotti a catena e succede che se passi vicino senti quest’odore di biscotti nell’aria, è un’esternalità, per me che c’ho lavorato accanto per due anni ad un certo punto da positiva è diventata negativa, dopo qualche mese quell’odore mi faceva venire voglia di strapparmi via il naso a morsi, ma datosi anatomicamente impossibile allora ho desistito.

Non è facile gestire le esternalità e visto che ne ho già scritto e anche abbondantemente sul mio altro tumblr anni fa, oggi volevo solo dirvi questa cosa qui che sto per dirvi.

Ho una vicina, su cui dovrei scrivere molto, ma mi limito a dire che vive con altre quattro persone, tutte adulte e oltre e lei si occupa del bucato di tutti, perché, salvo le due anziane, il marito e la figlia evidentemente sono nati senza mani, ma sorvoliamo. La mia vicina ha la lavatrice fuori casa, sul retro e sul retro ha anche il lavatoio che, dio solo sa come mai, usa in continuazione con una certa passione. Questa mia vicina fa una lavatrice al giorno, almeno, e la fa sempre la mattina presto, questo comporta che dalle mie finestre esposte verso casa sua, ogni mattina entra un piacevole odore di ammorbidente e dura tutto il giorno e io la consideravo una esternalità positiva, mi dicevo che meno male che sta povera disgraziata c’ha da lavare per un esercito ad ogni rotazione terrestre, io mi sveglio ogni mattina con un bellissimo odore che mi accoglie e che profumo e che cazzo di ammorbidente usa e quanto cazzo ne usa? Glielo devo chiedere. Ad onor del vero credo sia talmente forte che anche la mia dirimpettaia dall’altra parte della strada lo sente al punto che la domanda sul prodotto gliel’ha fatta lei, lo so perché, la dirimpettaia, quando parla urla fortissimo, esternalità negativa, so anche quando ha dei problemi con le colleghe e la sorella e quando deve andare dal ginecologo e quando la figlia non rifà il suo letto la mattina, ma non c’ho mai parlato.

Io questa del profumo di bucato la credevo un’esternalità positiva, no? Sono anni che mi dico che fortuna, che bello, che profumo rasserenante, che potenza del bucato che ha la mia vicina, ma come fa? È una maga? E invece no, @autolesionistra a mi ha riportato coi piedi per terra in un suo post in cui ha gentilmente spiegato che non è profumo di bucato la mattina quello che sento, manca poco che sia quello del napalm (cit.) perché in verità è inquinamento amici miei.

Il mio bucato del resto non profuma così perché a momenti lavo solo con acqua e se riuscissi a rifiltrarla la riutilizzerei, giuro, anche perché come dice un tipo su tiktok you do not need to be washing your fucking clothing like a maniac, Are ya’ll rolling in fucking manure, cause a lot of ya’ll wash your clothing like you rolling in fucking manure everyday.

Babies we don’t have all that money to waste and not even all that time to waste and not even the luxury to use all that detergent anymore sis.

La mia vicina inquina ed è un’esternalità negativa, ma certamente non è che adesso posso addossare a lei le colpe di secoli di storia e corporazioni, chiaro, però adesso nella mia testa quella che credevo fosse una roba bella mi metterà invece ansia.

Ciao.

19 notes · View notes

libero-de-mente · 7 months

Text

𝗟𝗢 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗢

- 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙤

"Si certo, prendiamo l'autobus... che palle. Poi il treno, gli orari? Che palle... Si si, allora partiremo molto prima... che palle. Hai visto quale metro prendete? Due?! Che palle... Per il ritorno? Ah non può? Aspetta chiedo al mio...

Papà..."

"Dimmi Gabri"

"Martedì c'è la partita di Champion, vado a vederla con i miei amici. Per te sarebbe un problema venirci a prendere a Milano, quando sarà finita?"

Sono stato tifoso. Quando essere tifosi, della mia squadra, dava tante soddisfazioni. In quello stadio, chiamato anche "La Scala del calcio", ci andavo ogni domenica o mercoledì di coppe. Probabilmente li sfogavo, gioendo delle vittorie, l'amaro di una vita in cui dovevo accontentarmi. Credo.

Comunque, mi ero ripromesso che se Gabriele ci fosse voluto andare, lo avrei accompagnato io la prima volta. Dove io ho passato ore senza pensieri lì ci sarebbe entrato con me. Io, suo padre.

E così me ne esco con: "Vi porto io, così ritorno a San Siro".

Con tanto di dito alzato al cielo

- 𝙇'𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙤

Ci siamo, dopo un viaggio dove l'autostrada ha dato il peggio si se con forti rallentamenti, arriviamo in zona quando i cancelli dello stadio sono già aperti da mezz'ora.

Parcheggi completi ovunque. Rassegnato invito i ragazzi a scendere e dirigersi allo stadio a piedi, circa 25 minuti di camminata.

Nel frattempo troverò un posto dove lasciare l'auto. Lo trovo. Stessa posizione del concerto di Weeknd (chi ha letto il mio racconto "Weeknd con il morto"su quella sera sa).

Mi avvio verso lo stadio, che non ho la più pallida idea di dove sia. Seguo ragazzi e adulti che indossano le maglie con i nomi di oggi e di ieri dei giocatori.

Fa caldo, 30° e afa. Ho lasciato casa mia con un 24° gradi e la freschezza dell'autunno.

Cammino e rantolo, passo veloce. Siri l'assistente digitale del mio iPhone si attiva e urla in mezzo a tutti: "Sessione FitHard Core, Ottimo! La salvo nel tuo allenamento settimanale?"

Imbarazzato le dico, sussurrando: "No"

Siri: "Dai, lazzarone, che l'ultimo allenamento ancora avevo l'aggiornamento iOS 15 e siamo al 17!"

Io "No, fatti i fatti tuoi"

Seguendo le maglie e passando attraverso un parco alberato sbuco davanti a lui: lo stadio.

Sento l'urlo "The Chaaaaampions" di tutto lo stadio, dovrei essere lì con Gabriele, padre fallito che sono. Ma non ho tempo di questi rimproveri, ho davanti a me proprio il gate d'ingresso che devo prendere.

- 𝙇𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙤

Arrivo al primo controllo, un tipo sulla sessantina mi fa cenno di andare da lui: "Meh, tien l'accendin tu?"

"No" gli rispondo

"Meh, non fumm"

"No, ho smesso"

"Brav da quant?"

"Aivògghiie"

"Meh, pugiese pur'ttu"

"No, parl a' muzze"

"Meh, Ce sì bevùte, u leàndre?"

Mi fa passare, passo anche i tornelli per la vidimazione del biglietto.

Entro...

Guardo il numero del settore, lo vedo e mi dirigo a passo deciso.

Mentre cammino vengo puntato a distanza da un omone alto, tipica persona anglosassone che mi si avvicina, porta un cartellino appeso al collo che lo rende ufficioso.

"Excuse me, he's a Newcastle fan?"

"No, thanks" - Con tutte le risposte possibili vado a dire no grazie?!

"Excuse me but the English support sector is here"

"Oh no, sorry. I'm not English, mi rend cont che my clothing is from Royal Ascot, ma belive me, sto sudand come a caiman. If io sapevo I was dressing da murator. The soul of my dead ancestors"

Questo steward inglese comprende l'italiano e comincia a ridere, "Ok, man... ok" mi dice lasciandosi andare da quella compostezza seria, di chi è li per evitare contatti tra le tifoserie, a quella più divertita.

Salgo.

Salgo. Le scale sembrano non terminare.

Poi penso ai miei coetanei che ammiro su Facebook che fanno ferrate in montagna a quote elevatissime, chi fa camminate o corse lungo i fiumi partendo dalla foce e arrivando alle sorgenti.

Chi dalla Calabria attraversa a nuoto lo Stretto di Messina, si mangia una granita con brioche con il tuppo, per poi ritornare a nuoto sulla sponda calabrese e far ruttino. Come se nulla fosse.

Resisto, i messaggi di Gabriele arrivano a raffica:

Dove sei

Oh, ti aspetto

Quanto manc

Cominc

Oh pa' ndo stai?

Che palle

Sbuco nello stadio, devo salire le gradinate, vedo mio figlio.

Sembro Gesù Cristo sul Monte Calvario, grondo sudore e non sangue. Per fortuna. Anche se un polmone mi sa che è collassato.

I gradini dello stadio non me li ricordavo così irti, li facevo due alla volta quando stavo in curva. Adesso mi ricordo di quando salii sulla piramide di Chichén Itzá.

Devo guardare davanti a me, mi ripeto, altrimenti perdo l'equilibrio.

Alzo lo sguardo e noto che davanti a me non sta salendo un sedere femminile palestratissimo e perfetto, inguainato in un fusò aderentissimo.

No.

Credo di averlo percepito come un sedere nudo con la pelle colorata da fusò.

Però la motivazione mi ha aiutato. Arrivo in cima all'anello. Sono vicino a mio figlio. Questo conta. Lo guardo, lo ammiro. Sono contento per lui ha gli occhi che brillano di bello, di gioia. Con i suoi amici, nello stadio della sua squadra del cuore. Il resto è calcio, che si vinca o che si perda. Pazienza.

- 𝙇𝙖 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙚

Finita la partita. Un pareggio Gabriele e i suoi amici mi guardano. Hanno la faccia perplessa del pareggio.

Li guardo e dico loro: "Potrebbe esser peggio"

"E come, una sconfitta?"

"No, potrebbe piovere"

Mi guardano, li guardo, si guardano.

La mia battuta del film Frankenstein Junior evidentemente non la conoscono, nonostante la mia espressione da Igor.

Le basi della filmografia proprio, dovrò spiegargliela in auto.

Che palle!

#libero de mente #amore #racconto #stadio #calcio #partita #figlio #dialoghi #pensieri #vita

13 notes · View notes

gibbish-anon-from-hell · 23 days

Note

Hi my name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I'm in the seventh year (I'm seventeen). I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

Hmm. Penso che metterò anche te nell'armadietto dei feti, per dare a Stanbley un po' di compagnia.

2 notes · View notes

mayorwhisper · 11 months

Photo

These rompers are SO cute!

4 notes · View notes

shit-talk-turner · 1 year

Note

There is a French interview with Louise from 2019/2020 (before her album was released) where she said she said something along the lines of wanting to appear as a "naughty child'. She was 31 at the time. As for Alexa, she said at one point she never read the book Lolita but loved the 1997 film. She was still mid 30's with a Lolita phone case. // mods I know you love Alexa but she’s said quite weird and unhinged things. I found this article that seems to summarize some parts of her book IT: “My favourite book is Lolita because I just adore the pubescent teenaged girl look. It rocks. I also like the Edie Sedgwick look. How many drugs can one girl take? Never enough, because taking drugs looks really, really cool.” She also has said that her style looks like a child or something like that. “I love men. By men, I mean famous men.” an ask was sent a few days ago about Jane Birkin saying she was not ambitious and just wanted to look like Jean Shrimpton, here Alexa says why she loves Jane: “My biggest influence has been Jane Birkin. Probably because she has never done that much either.” “My mum is the coolest mum in the world. Whenever I break up with a boyfriend, she tells me to go out and shag someone else. How cool is that?” “Sometimes my male friends get really depressed. That's because they don't have enough leather jackets. You can never have too many leather jackets. I've got 25 at least. I really do believe that if everyone in the world had 25 leather jackets, no one would be unhappy again ever.” “I loved everything about the Spice Girls. Their clothes, their music, their manufactured artificiality. But I especially loved the fact they showed women could become celebrities without having any talent.” (The article: https://amp.theguardian.com/books/2013/sep/08/it-alexa-chung-digested-read) — the interview Alexa said Lolita changed her life: Q: Book that changed your life? AC: ‘Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.’ (https://www.harpersbazaar.com/uk/culture/culture-news/news/a32800/my-cultural-life-alexa-chung/) and I remember Louise saying something like she’s an “enfant terrible”, also here: “Her name is Louise Verneuil and since the stage name it has been mentioned the golden age of French song. She is with Alex Turner of the Arctic Monkeys and she too, like Birkin, wants to be a “terrible girl” ” (“Si chiama Louise Verneuil e fin dal nome d'arte che si è data cita il periodo d'oro della canzone francese. Sta con Alex Turner degli Arctic Monkeys e anche lei, come la Birkin, vuole essere una “bambina terribile” ” / https://www.rollingstone.it/musica/interviste-musica/dicono-che-questa-cantautrice-sia-la-nuova-jane-birkin/491395/ ) ridiculous how the selling point of Louise and her music in all of the press she did for her album was being the “companion/girlfriend/etc” of Alex Turner, yet in the same interviews she says she’s been making music for 8 years and people shouldn’t know her for her “man” and called the society “misogynist” lmao. also the journalist wrote “are the fans of Alex Turner the problem?” Like be serious, if it wasn’t for Alex she would’ve stayed unknown with an unreleased album and no listeners, no luxury clothes, trips, hotels, Paris apartment, invitations to events like Celine fashion show, Beatles documentary series premiere, aanndd, ……….

Just because we are fans of many of Alexa’s qualities and her work doesn’t mean she’s never said anything weird or dumb to the press. Almost everyone in the public eye will, at some point. We also think some of these may have been jokes. The leather jacket comment sounds very different if you read it as serious vs with sarcasm.

The topic of the book Lolita is a complicated one. Like the other mod mentioned, we both read it recently to try to help us understand. It’s challenging to process and discuss because it’s written with great skill for language and structure and yet tells such a dark, disturbing and sad story. Anyone mentioning something that nuanced and complicated offhand in an interview about fashion/style/music is likely to sound foolish, and is foolish for not realizing it. I will also note that as part of this exercise I watched the 1997 film and it’s not nearly so disturbing because you don’t get so much of Humbert’s internal monologue. Its beautifully filmed and directed and much more superficial in the storytelling, as movie adaptations often are. It’s easier to see how someone could watch that film alone, not read the book, and not quite get the full picture of how dark the story is.

Anyway, pardon this brief monologue. Moral of the story: if you only watch the film and don’t read the book and then try to sound cultured, it won’t work. Just do your homework or better yet, just be yourself and talk about your real interests. 🤷🏻‍♀️

10 notes · View notes