cigarette filters

3

chapter one — neil josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. he didn’t want the nicotine; he wanted the acrid smoke that reminded him of his mother. if he inhaled slowly enough, he could almost taste the ghost of gasoline and fire. it was at once revolting and comforting, and it sent a sick shudder down his spine.

8

Neil Josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. He didn’t want the nicotine; he wanted the acrid smoke that reminded him of his mother. If he inhaled slowly enough, he could almost taste the ghost of gasoline and fire.

Sticks, Stones, and Bones; Divination Through Casting Objects

My wonderful friend @peacock-witch and I regularly Skype and have fun divining with found objects. This means, whatever is at hand! One night I picked up a pack of cigarettes and started tossing them in the air to see how they fell. Thus was born my love of casting objects to divine. Casting objects is simple, easy, and super “witchy” and in my opinion quite fun and accurate as well! All you need is a selection of two to ten power objects.

What are power objects?

In this context, a power object is whatever has special significance or meaning to you. Just as a deck of tarot cards has 78 distinct meanings to it, your collection of power objects will each have their own distinct meaning. When you cast them on your cloth, the way these objects fall in relation to each other will determine what the reading is.

Here are some ideas of what power objects could be and what their meanings might be:

  • Crystals, stones: Use traditional magical meanings (love, strength, wisdom, protection, etc.).
  • Runes, ogham: Include a full set of runes or ogham sticks, or include certain ones that have special significance to you.
  • Matches, lighters: Guiding light, technology, civilization, fire element.
  • Feathers: Air element, communication, travel, motion, movement.
  • Cigarettes: Sickness, indulgence, hedonism, disease.
  • Ring: Family, bond, friendship, trust.
  • Key: Answers, wisdom, truth, opening, awakening.
  • Coin: Wealth, prosperity, earth element.
  • Glass beads: Creativity, glamour, manipulation, water element.
  • Pills: A state of being unwell, problems, where healing is needed.
  • Battery: High energy, energy blockage, energy containment, energetic flow has been altered.
  • Pen or pencil: Society, lawfulness, rules, order, regulations.
  • Skittles: Sweetness, well-being, happiness.
  • Animal figurines: Use animal lore and meanings to determine what the animal should represent.
  • Walnuts: Brain, intelligence, mind, cunning.
  • Popsicle stick: Bridge, pathway, path, route, solution.
  • Pins and needles: Pain, attack, aggression, fear, worry, unease.

You can really pick up any object around you, assign it a meaning, and cast it with your power objects. Over time you will gain the discernment to tell when an object adds meaning and depth to your readings, or when it becomes clunky and unwieldy. At the start, just cast 2-5 power objects; as time goes on you should experiment with adding more and seeing how it affects your reading. Don’t be afraid to add or especially remove objects that aren’t working for you.

It is a good idea to search for object that are equal in size. For example, casting 5 cigarettes may be a more balanced reading than casting a dime, a lighter, and a crow’s feather. When objects are similar in size they fall similarly and may provide with a more balanced reading to start with, or at least, a reading that is easier to read! This is in my own experience however, perhaps to you the size of the items doesn’t matter at all.

So where do you find power objects? Anywhere! @peacock-witch​ and I pick up whatever is in the room with us and figure out a way to divine with it. To make that list of objects above I just sat still and looked around my kitchen. Even carrots and celery sticks will do if you’re really short on objects to toss around.

Remember that you can mark on or alter your objects! I draw meanings on the filters of cigarettes. You can draw symbols on coin with permanent marker, write words on Popsicle sticks, or dab paint on figurines to give them extra meaning.

Put meaning to your objects

The way your power object collection looks will reflect what type of questions you want to divine for. If you want to do love divinations you may have five different objects each representing a subtle form of love. If money is your concern, you may have extra objects representing the economy, cash money, debt, savings, wealth, and financial players.

Assign one object to represent the person you are reading for. Suppose you are using Skittles to divine. Red can represent the person you are reading for; Green stands for love, yellow for wealth, purple for spirituality, and orange for success.

Experiment with different meanings for your objects. See what group of meanings works well together. You should be quickly able to tell what meanings work as a group, and what are clunky, redundant, or nonsensical.

Trust your throw

Just as you trust tarot cards to come up correctly, you need to trust your power objects to come up correctly. What works for me, and for many other readers, is to have a ritual you follow each time you cast for a question. One such example ritual is to hold the power objects, focus on your question, then cast in the same way every time.

Observe the fall

Once you have focused on your question and cast your power objects, the real fun begins!

Let’s go back to our Skittles example. Suppose you want to divine a person’s love life, so you cast the red candy (the querent), the green candy (love), and the orange candy (success). Now, you read the position of the candies to determine whether or not love will soon be in their life. Suppose the person is closely touching love but is far away from success. Maybe this means they will get very close to their goal but never be successful. Or, what if it means they do not need to be successful to find love? As a reader it is your job to interpret how the candies fall.

  • Look at how your power objects are oriented on the board. Do they appear to make a shape or picture? Do all the power objects appear to be pointing towards one side of the board? Do they give you a feeling of active motion, or a feeling of stillness? Do some seem to be clustered together as if they are stuck in a gravity well, or are they spread outwards as if there was an explosion? Take time to consider the board as a whole and the entire picture made by the objects.
  • Look at how your power objects interact with each other. Are some objects touching or even stacked on top of each other? Do some objects seem to mirror each other across the board? Are two or more objects pointing at each other or facing away from each other? Consider everything!! This is the true fun and excitement of casting power objects :3 Take time to consider the objects individually and how they interact with each other.

Casting power objects is an especially useful form of divination to use when you want to determine the nature of relationships between things. It is a powerful system because you can select as many objects as you want and give them their own meanings, as opposed to runes or tarot where there are a set number of meanings for a set number of objects. It is also impressive because you can pick up literally anything and cast it, and you will be able to divine (once you get the technique down of course!)

My advice is to be careful about how you label your objects and pay special attention as to how the objects interact until you get a good team of power objects working for you. Also make sure to keep looking for new levels and depths of meaning. Group readings are a great way to get new levels of depth in your readings, by having multiple friends each read the same spread and share their interpretations.

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(Also, a li’l snippet under the cut if you want the full conversation since I hate handwriting lots of dialogue in these things :) Rated T for language and references to sex. McReyes is mentioned.)

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La Belle et la Bête

(if this is your fault you know who you are, i’m using previously established au rules @megan-mayhem and i came up with and no one is allowed to judge me)


Wayne Manor was even more empty than usual, and the emptiness made it feel haunted. Diana found it horribly unsettling.

“Bruce?” she called, and it echoed through the empty halls. She opened the curtains in the front parlor to let the sunshine in. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, I was in Italy.” She’d come as quickly as she could once she’d gotten his message, but he’d sent it in the dead of night.

Something’s happened. It’s not life-threatening, but I’m not myself. I sent everyone away to minimize the incident, but I think you’re the only one who can help. Come alone if you come at all.

“Bruce?” she called again. Perhaps he was downstairs. She listened carefully. There was the distant muffled clicking of a mechanical keyboard, intermittent and slow. She didn’t think she’d ever heard anyone in this house ever type so slow. Not even Alfred.

Her phone chimed. She checked it. A message from Bruce. In my office. She looked toward the stairs. The clicking had stopped.

Her walk up the stairs was cautious. What could possibly have happened to him?

In the hall, one of the side tables had tipped sideways. Its former contents had been neatly arranged into a stack beside it on the floor.

“… Bruce…?” She peered into his office.

She shrieked, then put her hands over her mouth to try to muffle her shrieking. It lessened to a high-pitched squeal.

“Tiny baby!”

“I am a grown man, Diana.”

He was a black Pomeranian of less than five pounds, standing on his computer desk.

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anonymous asked:

can u do a pharmercy prompt where angela smokes

It’s amazing that you requested this because after I saw this post I literally thought to myself “I really want to know what a smoking Mercy is like.” And I never wrote it because I thought it might actually be too out of character.

But now you’ve given me an excuse to do it anyway, so THANK YOU. <3




It isn’t a habit, entirely. She does not skip out in the day to come out here. She knows the medical ramifications, has studied them intently in school, and later, on her own; a morbid curiosity into her own self-destructive tendency.

Everyone has them, Angela reasons, why shouldn’t she? She is not an angel, for all she pretends. For all she hopes and aspires to. In her mind there is an ideal woman there: proud and strong and unbelievably kind. Angela endeavors, and she fights - as she always has. One day, she thinks, she may become the thing the world repeatedly tells her she is.

It is midnight, everyone is asleep, and she is sitting on the flat metal roof of the base in Gibraltar, mapping the constellations her father had once pointed out to her.

It’s the anniversary of his death - their death. The neural implant in her spine is dislodged by a fraction of a hair from a previous mission and it hurts.

Angela lights a cigarette, her knees pulled up and tucked under her chin and she accepts the pain of both these things as wisps of smoke float away, illuminated by the moonlight; there’s Orion.

The other night Angela had sat beside Fareeha and pointed out the stars, their significance - had talked about Greek mythology, a favorite subject of hers, and had listened to Fareeha recount what she remembered of Egyptian mythology from her time in school. Angela, studious to a detrimental degree and endlessly fascinated with the things Fareeha has to share, looked up more, learned more.

Angela breathes in; breathes in smoke, lets it burn her esophagus a little bit, thinks of how it is killing her a little more with each drag and admits to herself that she may truly love another person again.

It is terrifying.

It is terrifying because Angela cares deeply for life, in general, her friends in particular, but she knows that each string she ties to them, binds them to her, is a liability - the best medical professionals in the world are the ones who look first for results; last, out for the people around them. Statistically, their accomplishments are often more significant. Angela has always kept a professional distance - it is the best way she knows how to save lives.

Fareeha is a wild card. She is so brave and so loyal and so unbelievably beautiful, good, much more than Angela deserves. And yet she lingers; to eat lunch with her and invite her out to walk around town; to spend thirty minutes at a claw machine in a super market trying (unsuccessfully) to win trivial items. (Angela has the dinosaur shaped trinket on her bedside table even now).

Angela sighs, the cigarette is to the filter so she unfurls, presses it against the heel of her boot to extinguish what’s left and puts the butt back in the box, to be thrown away later.

Orion hasn’t moved, her parents are still gone, the pain at the base of her neck is nearly unbearable.

Perhaps nothing has changed.

Angela brushes off her pants, shivers against the chilly evening air and considers going back to her room. Walks there, in fact, but detours to walk further down the hall, to stop at a familiar door.

Should she go in? She has before.

Fareeha is undoubtedly asleep; Angela would be displeased if she wasn’t.

The door opens for her when she slides it. Fareeha, afraid of confined spaces, small rooms, does not lock doors. She has confessed this to Angela; not even bathroom stalls, she is especially adverse to elevators.

Angela removes her shoes, placed them by the entrance. Removes her pants and her sweater and folds them, placing them on Fareeha’s desk, so that she is standing in her shirt and underwear.

She moves to the bed, sees Fareeha there, sprawled out as she often is - the woman does not sleep as she had once assumed she might - curled into herself. She’s breathing through her mouth, her shirt loose, her hair splayed against her pillow.

Angela pushes her lightly and she stirs, she is a notoriously light sleeper.

“Hmm?” She hums, and moves slightly towards Angela. Angela crawls over her, lays in the space between Fareeha and the wall.

“Can I stay?” She asks, quietly.

“Of course,” replies Fareeha, wraps an arm around her middle to pull Angela into her. Angela is not always in this position, sometimes Fareeha hurts too, so they trade. But tonight Angela wants to be held and she is glad for it.

Fareeha buries her face in the nape of Angela’s neck and even that seems to alleviate the pain there (tomorrow she will have to fix it; tonight she cannot be bothered).

“I did not know you smoked,” Fareeha says eventually; it occurs to Angela she must smell the lingering traces there in her hair, or perhaps from her mouth as she breaths out.

“I don’t,” Angela says.

Fareeha squeezes tighter, seems to engulf her. She says nothing else and soon her exhales even out and Angela is left awake, feeling warm - so warm. Feeling okay.

[PAN UP ON THE SMOKE]
there’s something about seeing him again that hurts worse
than the bruises littering your body,
than the knowledge that the identity you erased
has been filled back in, and announced to the world.
maybe it’s the way he won’t acknowledge you.
maybe it’s his [MONOTONE VOICE]
“you stay. the rest go.”
his dismissal of you.

consider: you’re not all that observant at all.
not even a little bit. because you know,
he’d burn the world for you, and you’ve missed that.
you’ve missed how he looks at you, missed
how he acts, missed how he would
[BRIEF SHOT OF A GLINTING KNIFE]
cut down anyone who dares lay a hand on you.
he promised to protect you, sure, but
you missed how that changed from a selfless promise
to a selfish one.

perhaps this is why it hurts when the countdown begins.
he’d fight for you and you’d tear the world apart for him,
and this is the first time you’ve let yourself have that.
this is the first time [CUT TO THE NUMBER
ON THE SCREEN, FLASHING ZERO]
you’re going to lose that.

and so here it goes.
here you go.
[SOUND: A DYING MAN’S GASPING BREATHS]
here everything goes.
[SOUND: A DEAD MAN’S SCREAMS]
kiss it all goodbye.
you’ve reached the end and you know it.

[FADE OUT]
[AND BACK IN]

his cigarette burns to the filter and
your heart burns in your chest and
the ground burns at your feet.
another day another day another day.
you have another day.
you have [SOUND: THE COURT DOOR CLOSING]
another chance, to keep this.
to keep everything.

[SOUND: THE FINAL BUZZER]
[CUT TO YOUR LIFE FLASHING BEFORE YOU]
[PAN OVER TO HIM SAVING YOUR ASS
EVEN THOUGH HE DOESN’T HAVE TO ANYMORE]
[FADE TO YOU BREATHING AGAIN]

this is everything you’ve ever wanted.
you’re not about to let it go.

—  THREE: THE FOX

Carl exhales slow, smoke rising sluggishly from his painted red lips; lipstick smeared not only on his face, but his partner’s as well. Fresh hickies cover barely week old ones, scattered over his neck and the expanse of his pronounced collarbones. A few peek from the inner part of his thighs, along with patches of reddened skin akin to rug burn. His mascara is running and his hair is wild, but in a state of post-orgasm bliss, he doesn’t even care what he looks like.

He flicks the cigarette, filter stained with lipstick, over the ashtray on the bedside table before passing it to Negan. The man takes it, shifting so he’s a bit more comfortable; wincing when his back scrapes against the sheets. That earns a smug chuckle and smirk from Carl, who buries his head into Negan’s chest and sighs as Negan takes a drag.

“You really know how to treat a lady,” Carl jokes, dramatically batting his eyelashes up at Negan. He laughs, still breathless.

“Course I fucking do, baby. Only the best for my girl,” He jokes, too, flashing a wolfish grin in return, meeting Carl halfway for a lazy, drawn out kiss.