send forth

Ten staples that every woman needs in her closet

1. A vast empty hooded cape that you can control with the power of your mind, sending it forth from you to terrify and amaze.

2. A dress that can be whipped off by a bare-chested dancer to reveal another, more sparkly dress underneath, for those occasions when you accidentally find yourself in the Eurovision Song Contest.

3. A formal grappling-hook, for arriving at all the best parties. Make sure to have yours personalised, so that you do not arrive at the party via the same grappling hook as another attendee.

4. A khaki tank top. That is, just the swivelly bit with the gun on. The caterpillar tracks bit is probably too big for a closet but can be stored in a shed or garage until it is needed.

5. A leather jacket tanned from the tattooed hide of the last bull to cross you, as a reminder to other bulls that you will be crossing this field now, thank you very much.

6. Pumps. You will thank me for this recommendation when your boat starts to fill with water. Using buckets to bail is just tedious and may require more crew members than are left after the mutiny.

7. Pencil skirt. Never forget, wear with the pencils facing outwards. Inwards is super-uncomfortable and much less helpful in getting personal space on metro systems.

8. A dragon-proof cardigan.

9. Trousers that can be worn by a horse, in case you should meet a horse that wants trousers or that curse ever comes to fruition.

10. A good book with a light attached, so that on bad days you can just get into the closet and read without having to bother about all that clothes stuff. Make sure not to sit on the pencil skirt.

Sweat [M]

Pairing: Hoseok x reader x Yoongi

Summary: It’s a hot summer day and your boyfriends have an unorthodox method of trying to keep you cool.

Genre:  smut, pure smutty threesome, goodness, Poly!yoonseok

Word Count: 

Warnings: graphic depictions of sex, dirty talk, ice play

Originally posted by rapmonsexpensivegirl

The sun was already shining high in the sky when your eyes fluttered open. The overwhelming heat of the day had your shirt soaked to your skin. You groaned, reaching over to chug the glass of water on the table next to you. But the room temperature water wasn’t enough to satisfy your thirst. “It’s so fucking hot.” you mumbled as you slid off your mattress. The sheets were crumpled in a pile on the floor, somehow the 3 of you managed to kick them off the bed in your sleep. 

You padded down the hallway and the familiar sounds of your boyfriends arguing rang through your ears. Yoongi and Hoseok were on opposite sides of the spectrum. Fire and ice. Water and oil. But there was something about you that brought the two of them together.

Hoseok’s eyes immediately fell onto yours as you entered the living room, “Tell Yoongi you want to go to the beach today. He’s being a lazy ass and won’t let us go.”

You chuckled, “The beach does sound nice, Hobi. But it’s probably going to be packed.” you squeezed his shoulder gently as you made your way to the fridge and out of the corner of your eye you could see him pouting. Clearly not happy that you were siding with Yoongi in this democratic household.

“See, I told you she wouldn’t want to go.” Yoongi teased as he laid back down on the floor, a gummy smile spread across his glistening face. He stared at you with mischief in his eyes, but the thought of intertwining limbs in this heat sounded like the worst possible idea, no matter how hard he made you cum.

You opened the door to the freezer, finding sweet relief in the blast of cool air rushing towards your skin. It was days like this when you cursed your boyfriends for letting them talk you into this place. Your apartment was beautiful, and you loved it, but it didn’t have A/C. So every summer the three of you wandered across the apartment in various states of undress, hoping that the lack of clothing encasing your skin will offer relief.

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@pilferingapples Have I mentioned lately that you’re awesome? Because you are.

I’ve been thinking about professor!magnus and soldier!alec since yesterday and idk if I want to commit myself to writing something like that when I know nothing about the army but I feel like there could be something very heartbreaking about it. 

Like maybe Alec is about to be deployed and it’s his what… 2nd? 3rd? tour and he’s happy to be unattached, despite what his siblings always say, because he knows how hard it is to be separated from the ones he loves but also to be left behind and he doesn’t want to do that to someone. So he doesn’t date and he doesn’t have a lot of close friends apart from his family and it’s ok, hes doing something important, serving his country and following his family’s footsteps (ofc they’d be a big military family) but then he meets Magnus … Idk where, somewhere random like a bookstore or grocery store or the outdoor market Izzy dragged him to and sparks  f l y. And Alec is confused/overwhelmed and reluctant despite Magnus flirting 110% with him. Maybe they exchange numbers maybe not, maybe they randomly meet again and Magnus is like uh funny twist of fate *flirty grin* and Alec is just…. abort mission holy shit help ???Because even though he’s had flings and hooks up, he’s never had a crush or somebody that made him go w o w  like this and it’s new? But he kinda wants to break his rule and say yes when the hot college professor asks him out and that’s new and kinda scary but he blurts out yes before he can fully think about it or change his mind. Of course, he has a nervous breakdown afterward and Izzy is like pls find your chill but he can’t find his chill cause he’s going away to get shot at in less than 3 months and the timing couldn’t more off and that’s not fair to Magnus to get him involved like that… Because, of course, Alec is the type of person to worry too much before anything even happens. Anyway, so they go on a date maybe a walk at dusk and some ice cream?? Idk why but I’m imagining this is set in a small coastal town? They can walk near the water while talking about everything and nothing?? I’m seeing a make out session on top of a lighthouse? Anyway, when Alec tells Magnus what he does and where he’s going he’s all sorry about that I should have told you straight away when you asked me out but Magnus is all its ok lets just see where this goes, it doesn’t have to be serious since you’re leaving so soon and they agree to have a fling… but feelings happen and it’s inconvenient!!!

I like imagining Alec walking Magnus to his classes when he’s stayed over the night before (Magnus teaches history in this, I feel it). And maybe on mornings he wasn’t at Magnus’ he does a little detour on his morning run to buy him breakfast and he leaves it in his office during the 8am lecture that Magnus hates so that he’ll have something nice after that hardship, a little muffin and a coffee with a cute note on the cup ‘cause Alec is sappy af even though he tries very hard to hide it. And maybe he buys Magnus peonies at some point, just because they’re pretty and Magnus is pretty and he’s never bought flowers for anyone before and he wanted to… And Magnus keeps teasing him flowers are not casual Mister!! because it’s easier to flirt and tease than to acknowledge the fact that Alec is leaving really soon and he might not come back, and Magnus isn’t even important enough to be considered someone he’s leaving behind (or at least that’s how he feels). Magnus tries not to think about it but he’s obsessing over the idea that he doesn’t even know Alec’s family and friends, doesn’t know anyone who would tell him if something happened??? But he doesn’t want to bring it up because it’s supposed to be casual and meaningless, something that ends when the semester ends. So they keep going on dates and Alec cooks for him and Magnus tries to ignore the uneasy feeling growing in his chest as time flies too fast. Until there aren’t any time left and Alec is leaving. So they take a walk just like their first date and they have ice cream and they make love and they definitely don’t talk about it even though they both know that they should and Alec just… leaves. 

And Magnus tries not to have a hard time about it but it’s tough and he’s grateful it’s the end of the semester ‘cause at least he’s busy between marking terrible essays and correcting exams. He goes out with his friends from the history department once they’re all done and he tries to have a fun time, but truth is… he’s worried. He starts watching the news a little too obsessively and his friends don’t like it but he can’t help himself. 

Alec has been gone three weeks when the first letter comes. It takes Magnus by surprise at first because in all the times they’ve been together Alec has always been a man of little words. That’s not to say he was emotionally unavailable or unwilling to discuss things and his feelings, but this is new, the way the words flow easily on the page like it was no hardship at all to put it all down, descriptions of his unit and where he is, a full paragraph about how much he misses Magnus’ cat and nothing about them at all. But Magnus gets it, he sees it for what it is, a peace offering maybe or a stubborn unwillingness to let go, so he writes back. He talks about his students, their successes and their struggles, and his friends, little things that have reminded him of Alec since he’s been gone. Soft stories for a soft boy in a hard place. And they keep going back and forth, sending each other little pieces of their respective lives and it should be enough, it’s more than Magnus expected, but it’s tough and he misses Alec like a limb, misses him in his bed and in his kitchen, misses him when summer classes start and he has no one to hold his hand on his way to work, no callused fingers to wrap around his… But every new letter is a blessing. It says many things but underneath it all, the most important message is I’m still here, I’m alive and I’m thinking about you. 

Okay so maybe it all comes to a halt one day when his phone rings and it’s Alec on the line, after all those weeks, all those months, and he sounds like h e l l  and he’s there on the phone, apologizing to Magnus because his phone bill is gonna be awful but I …. I just… I needed to hear your voice Magnus, I’m sorry. You… you c-can send me the bill if you want, I just… and it takes everything Magnus has for him not to break down and cry right there and then because Alec really doesn’t sound okay and he has no idea what happened and he has no idea what they are but that’s his boy there on the phone who’s hurting and he hasn’t heard his voice in weeks… So Magnus is like Please shut up about my phone bill, I don’t give a fuck about that. How are you? Are you okay? What happened? And Alec is reluctant to talk about it, doesn’t want to give any details, just keeps saying rough day, Magnus, rough day in this small voice and Magnus hates it more than he’s ever hated anything in his life. He doesn’t want to push Alec too hard so he just asks what can I do? and he hates the way his voice shakes, he wishes he could be stronger than this but Alec doesn’t seem to mind, he just sighs like he’s tired deep in his bones, deep in his soul, and says: just talk to me. So Magnus does, he rambles on nervously about what he had for breakfast and what he taught today, his lecture plan for tomorrow, his neighbor’s hatred for his cat and his favorite designer on the new season of Project Runway. He just babbles on, hoping it can help. All he wants to do is help. Alec hums here and there, asks a few questions, especially about Magnus’ work and at some point he runs out of things to say. There’s a beat of silence before he whispers I love you and he knows that won’t help but he can’t keep it inside anymore, he can’t live with this trapped inside of him, fighting to break free. Alec sighs again. I.. I w-wish… You… you shouldn’t say that. Don’t say that, please. It shouldn’t take Magnus by surprise but it does and it hurts. Me not saying it won’t make it untrue Alexander. Alec groans in frustration and Magnus can picture it perfectly, the way he’s probably bent over, head between his knees, one hand harshly buried in his hair. I didn’t want to put you through that. I didn’t want to put anyone through that but especially not you. He’s so noble and he’s so caring and Magnus knew that already but it hits him again, hard, that this is a man who puts others before himself every single time and who will fight tooth and nail anyone who dares try taking care of him. So Magnus does his best to sound as stern as he can:  Well just too bad because I’m here and you’re there and I love you. And you wishing it hadn’t happened won’t change anything and if you like me even the tiniest bit you’ll call me again because I have been worried sick. 

Alec calls every week after that. There’s a new kind of anxiety that comes with waiting for the phone call, waiting for the confirmation that Alec is okay, but Magnus is happy to live with it when it means he can hear Alec’s voice once a week, warm and soft when he asks Magnus what he’s been up to and insists to be put on the phone with the cat. I don’t want him to forget me! 

That boy. 

They don’t talk about what they are again and it takes until Alec is back on American soil, his head buried in Magnus’ neck so no one can see him cry, for him to say I love you back, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need it. For now, Magnus cherishes every time his phone rings and he gets connected to Alec, he cherishes every time he can make him laugh, he cherishes every single plan they start making, every single hint that they can have a future together. 

It’s enough. 

Prayers for Suicidal Hellenic Polytheists

(I’m having a really bad suicidal day, so this is inspired by @aro–aphrodite)


May Zeus provide you the strength to live, and the safe refuge of his protection for when the urges become too much.

May Hera remind you in your darkest hours, the most important relationship is the one with yourself; and may she bless and strengthen the bond of that very union.

May Poseidon keep you safe in all voyages, including the journey that is life. May he prevent you from drowning in both your thoughts and the waters deep below.

May Demeter keep you warm and love you just like a mother. May she send forth gifts of a still soothed mind, and allow all your efforts in recovery to be fruitful.

May Athena, destroyer of Giants, slay the urges and intrusive thoughts too large to defeat on your own. May she protect you and bless you with the will to keep fighting.

May Apollon be by your side, whether it be during therapy or at your bedside in the ward. May he be a ray of light to give you a glimmer of hope.

May Artemis shield you, and provide you relief. May you never be thrown to the wolves, but rather have the courage to bear your teeth for your own defence.

May Ares cover your battle scars, and protect you from more. May he give you the courage of an entire army,
and the support of one to. May you be reminded that you need not to win every battle to win the war.

May Aphrodite shower you with the love you deserve, including the love of yourself for yourself. May she remind and teach you that you are beautiful.

May Hephaistos provide you a creative outlet; a distraction to keep hands busy without a blade. May he teach you you can’t forge yourself without the flame, but you have been setting yourself on fire far too long.

May Hermes provide you a safe haven; be it a support group, or even just long drives in the rain to clear your head. May he hold your hand as you cross bridges, and let you find change on the ground after you do not jump.

May Dionysos put a smile on your face, and stand strong along side you, urging you to dance; he knows mental illness all to well. Dance away the demons, dance into relief.

May Haides, somber but not always impartial, lead you away from the incoming cars, and drop sweet nectar into your mouth. It is not yet your time.

May Persephone remind you that the greatest fall can lead you to the greatest heights. There is something honourable about walking out of rock bottom with your head held high, or walking on through like you own the place.

May Hestia keep you warm when your emotions are spent, leaving you numb and cold. May she bless you with a feeling of home whenever possible, and keep those hearth fires burning. And your own inner fire strong, as well.

The Gods demand Arête, your personal best. Arête is not being the most successful person in the world. Sometimes it is merely staying alive. And staying alive, well, that makes the Theoi very happy.

Curses

Just a reminder, over on my spell blog, I am way behind on updating my spell listings, but I do have a fair amount of spells already added to convenient links. Well here’s my curse list so far:

PEN PALS

Ok so this is super grade 8ish but I’m looking for girls to send letters back and forth with!
It would be nice to have a few to just send to Canada or the US but it would also be super cool to have a pen pal on the opposite side of the world.
If you’re interested reblog this and message me!

Beauty and the Beasts

Originally posted by lokiandbooks


Summary: Fairy Tale AU. Reader is the child of Steven Rogers, the King of a poor land about to be attacked by a dragon. They call upon the Trickster, Loki, for protection. But is the price of his help too high for him to pay?

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: None really, might be light swears, I don’t remember. 

A/N: Uh… so this might be a series if people like it… In the title Beasts is correct, it’s plural for a reason, but it’s not revealed in this chapter. So yeah… Oh and it is kinda supposed to be a Once Upon a Time ish story. 

———–

It was a sound like thunder from the north. The outskirts of the kingdom were ablaze and the king had called council with his best knights and advisors. His daughter sat quietly on a throne next to her mother. The young girl glanced around at the knights.

There was the Sir Thor, known as the Knight of the Storm. He came from somewhere unknown. There was Lady Romanoff, she was strong and had a quick wit. She may have even been the very best of the guard. Romanoff was often seen with the archer, Clint Barton. He never missed a shot and had the sharpest eye of all the knights. Lastly there was Y/n’s betrothed, Anthony Stark.

Stark was cocky, but smart. He was was inventive and could work his way out of any problem. Of course he was handsome, but Y/n did not love him. Unfortunately Sir Stark seemed to fancy the idea of trying to win her affections with flirting and daring acts of foolish bravery. Neither of them had a say on the matter of marriage, King Steven had planned their betrothal the day his daughter was born.

“Your Highness, why do you not send forth your knights?” Anthony Stark asked irritably from his seat.

“You may be a great swordsman, Stark, but none of you are a match for the dragon.” The king replied.

“What will you have us do?” Asked Lady Romanoff. “Sit and watch as the innocent die?” The King sighed and one of the advisors cleared his throat.

“May I make a suggestion your Highness?” Bruce Banner was the foremost royal advisor, as well as the royal family’s doctor. The king nodded for Bruce to continue. “Sir Thor… Your adopted brother is a sorcerer, is he not?”

The council was in immediate uproar once the question left Banner’s lips. Thor did indeed have an adopted brother, but he was full of black magic and evil illusions.

“How dare you even think to ask The Dark One for assistance.” Said Sir Barton. “You know magic always comes with a price.”

“The Trickster cannot be trusted. He would take what he wanted and leave us to die.” Said Stark. While the Knights argued with Bruce, the King said nothing. Sir Thor took notice.

“Your Majesty, your mind seems to be elsewhere.” He said. Steve looked around the table of knights and advisors.

“I agree with Banner.” He said. They began to protest, but he silenced them. “He is the best option we have if we want to save our people.”

“Right you are King Rogers.” Declared a new voice. He stood in the doorway, Loki, The Dark One. The Beast, the Trickster. Tony rose to his feet and drew his sword, thrusting the tip toward Loki’s chest.

Before the blade could even reach him, Stark was surrounded in what appeared to be a blue cloud that froze him in place. With a roll of his icy eyes he stepped out from in front of Stark’s frozen form and snapped his fingers. Tony was set back into motion and the follow through of his sword only struck the air where Loki had once stood. Confused, he looked around only to find Loki’s smirking figure completely unscathed. There was a brief moment where he thought about striking again, but he lowered his blade instead, keeping a watchful eye on the sorcerer. Seeing that Tony had - mostly - given up, Loki turned toward the King.

“I’ve seen your kingdom’s distress, your Highness.” The way he said the word ‘highness’ was not out of respect, it was a mocking tone. “ And I am indeed willing to help you.” Thor stood from his spot at the table to stand between the King and his brother.

“What would you plan on doing to help us? How would you defeat the dragon?” Thor questioned. Loki gave a lopsided smirk in reply.

“Lovely to see you too, brother.” He said, Thor scowled. “I see there are no time for pleasantries.” Thor frowned sadly. Y/N frowned too, she knew how upsetting it was for Thor to see his brother so absorbed in black magic. “My plan is simple. Very few things can pierce the hide of a dragon, magic is one of these things. It just so happens, that in my collection, I have an arrow.” Loki moved his hand in an upward motion and a flick of his wrist, in a puff of blue smoke an arrow appeared in his hand. “I’ve been told Sir Barton never misses a shot, if he aims for the head with this arrow the dragon will die.”

There was a small amount of awe from the council, even the King was intrigued. Thor was still frowning at his brother, he knew there was more to this bargain than any of the others knew. Though he had said nothing when Banner suggested the idea of asking Loki for help, Thor did not agree with him, for he knew that it would not come to a bargain that any of them would like.

“You’re help always comes with a price,” Thor began. “So what is it you want? You know our kingdom is poor, what could we possibly have that you would offer us this safety so willingly?” King Steven spoke from behind Thor.

“We are poor, but we could come up with a way of paying you back in small amounts on a timed schedule.” Steven suggested. “Or-”

“I don’t want money. I can get enough of that on my own.” Loki said.

“Than what do you want?” Asked the King. Loki’s eyes darkened as his smirk widened into a malicious grin and he gave a deep chuckle.

“Her.” It was a single, vague word, but he pointed at the prize he demanded. His cold gaze landed on her, Y/N Rogers. She shivered when she met his gaze. King Steven rose to his feet and Tony had his blade raised again.

“No! This is nonsense!” Steven shouted. “What could you possibly want my daughter for, and watch your tongue when answering this question.” Steven said threateningly, placing his hand on the sword hung and sheathed on his hip. Loki shrugged, as though innocent.

“Well you see, I had to dispose of my last servant a few months ago.” He said. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to clean my home myself.” He said striding closer into the grand hall. “It could use what you call, a woman’s touch.”

“You will not have her.” declared Stark. Loki chuckled again.

“Well then this,” he waved the arrow in front of Tony. “Will just have to go back to my collection and you can all burn in a fiery rage from Hell.” Chaos erupted in the council again, they shouted and argued about what to do. Despite the words of many, King Steven refused to give in to Loki’s offer. While all this happened, Loki watched as Y/N sat quietly, with a thoughtful expression.

“STOP IT!” She shouted as she rose to her feet. The council fell silent and Loki grinned.

“The Lady does speak.” He mocked. She delivered a strong glare before she turned to a look of seriousness.

“If I choose to go with you, you will make sure my kingdom and my family survives?” She questioned. Tony stepped forward.

“Lady Y/N, you cannot-”

“I can do as I decide Sir Stark.” She said coldly, cutting him off. Loki sent a smirk in Tony’s direction. “Can you promise me these things, Dark One?” She returned her gaze to Loki.

“As long as Sir Barton hits the beast, I can guarantee safety from the dragon.” He said. “So what is your decision, Princess?” She frowned and turned to her father with doleful eyes. The King appeared to be near the edge of tears. She turned back to Loki again.

“I will go with you.” She declared and Loki’s smirk grew larger still. He placed a hand on her waist and pulled her closer to him. Out of surprise Lady Y/N’s hands landed on his chest, her face only centimeters from his.

“Then let us seal the deal.” He leaned in toward her, but she did not move. His lips met hers with slight harshness, she made no move to return his kiss but did not resist. As he pulled away from her he tossed the arrow to Sir Barton and in a puff of smoke everything around them disappeared.

They were no longer in the Castle of King Rogers, but instead were in a much darker grand hall in a new castle. Once they were there Y/N pushed herself away from Loki angrily. He gave her a rather dull expression, as though now that the deal was made he didn’t care about anything that happened.

“You didn’t even let me say goodbye!” She exclaimed. Her eyes glimmered with tears, but she held them back, refusing to cry in front of him. He rolled his eyes and strolled over to the table in the middle of the room.

“Goodbyes are tedious, Small One.” Loki said picking up a tray with an empty teapot on it. “You can start your duties as a servant by going and making a fresh pot of tea. You’ll find the kitchen at the bottom of the second stairwell down the hall.” he handed her the tray and she scowled, but followed his instructions nonetheless.

Lady Y/N found the kitchens with ease, and learned that the layout of the Dark One’s Castle was not much different from her own, except this place was much darker and dustier. Once she reached the kitchens she set the water to boil and lit the stove. She stood watching the water bubble while she thought about what was happening. Surely, she thought, I must be dreaming. After delivering a quick pinch to her arm, she realized she was in fact awake and she finally let a tear slip down her cheek.


That was three months ago. 

Feverish (Ethan x Reader)

Summary: Requested by two anons: “Can you write an Ethan imagine thing where he comes home really sick and throwing up and Grayson is trying to take care of him and he calls you (Ethan’s girlfriend) to take care of him and come over and see if you can help him get better?” and “shower with sleepy e or g? I’m not asking for anything smutty, just cute cute sleepy baby”
Word Count: 1,562
Warnings: Vomiting (if that makes you icky).
A/N: My deepest apologies for everyone who have waited for a new imagine. I’ve been so, so busy with life that I’ve had to put writing aside. But I hope you like this one! xx


“What’s going on, G?” You asked as Grayson answered the door, a squeak of protest as he pulled it open. He squinted as the sunlight hit his eyes and they settled on you after a few seconds.

You frowned as you saw the worry in his eyes, wondering what the hell was going on. Both Grayson and Ethan had been out for their daily pancake date and you had been at home, studying for your finals and sending Snapchats back and forth to your boyfriend. He had seemed fine, but he stopped answering after a while and you hadn’t thought anything of it.

Grayson had called you a few hours later, asking if you could come over because Ethan needed you. That was all you needed to hear, taking the bus as fast as you could to their apartment, worry eating you from the inside.

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“I open my heart and send forth my energy of love and understanding to everyone who has made me suffer, to those who have destroyed much of my life and the lives of those I love. I know now that these people have themselves undergone a lot of suffering and that their hearts are overloaded with pain, anger, and hatred. […] I pray that they can be transformed to experience the joy of living, so that they will not continue to make themselves and others suffer. I see their suffering and do not want to hold any feelings of hatred or anger in myself toward them. I do not want them to suffer. I channel my energy of love and understanding to them and ask all my ancestors to help them.”

~ Thich Nhat Hanh, ‘The Five Earth Touchings’ ~

anonymous asked:

Can you write one where dan is wearing sexy lingerie and takes pictures in it for phil?

- The panties are maroon and lacy, and they show off his ass really well. Plus, they match his new thigh highs, his lipstick, and his choker. He takes probably 50 pictures, but only sends the best three and a video of him palming himself to Phil, who’s away visiting family.

- He gets an answer about five minutes later, and it’s Phil in his bed with an obvious bulge in his pants, alongside the message, Look what you did, baby.

- It sends shivers down his spine, but Dan just stuffs a pillow between his legs and records himself slowly dragging his hips against it, sending that to Phil too with a message about how he wishes it was Phil’s thigh.

- They keep sending messages back and forth for an hour until Dan cums first, staining the lace. What pushes Phil over the edge is a picture of Dan with his own cum-messy fingers in his mouth.


Send us your sins

-Emmett

The Undertaker


The midnight hour, the darkest hour
That human grief may know,
Sends forth it’s hurried summons-
Ask me to come—I go!

I know not when the bell may toll,
I know not where the blow may fall,
I only know that I must go
In answer to the call.

Perhaps a friend—perhaps unknown-
‘Tis fate that turns the wheel-
The tangled skein of human life
Winds slowly on the reel.

And I? – I’m the undertaker,
“Cold-Blooded,” you’ll hear them say,
“Trained to the shock and chill of death,
With a heart that’s cold and grey.”

Trained—that’s what they call it
How little they know the rest-
I’m human, and know the sorrow
That throbs in the aching breast.

QKW’s Curse Index

Quick Note: Here is a rebloggable version of this page just in case tumblr breaks the page again.  Links are to my reblogs of these posts, please see the original post for the original author–I make no claims of ownership for the vast majority of these posts.  

Keep an eye out as I will be making similar pages and posts for other (non-curse) spells.


| Cursing 101 | Curspiration | FAQ |

Below is a list of all curses I’ve reblogged organized loosely by intent.

Last updated: 1/30/2017

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Creepypasta #1071: The Free-Writing Friday Assignment

Length: Short

Last October, I gave a special assignment to my sixth period Literature Arts class on the Friday before Halloween. The instructions were simple. Write a story or poem that is scary, about anything as long as it is school appropriate. That meant no excessive use of gore, no vulgarity, no sexual content, and no overwhelmingly descriptive violence. Just scary enough to horrify me.

They took it as a challenge. Well, most of them anyway. I taught a class of teenagers and as with all high school classes, not all of them worked. Some talked and laughed with their friends or focused on sending texts back and forth or watched YouTube and Netflix. Classic teenager stuff.

To be fair, there were a few students who actually worked on the assignment during the period.

Anyway, after the bell for seventh period had rung and my students left for their next and final class of the day, I read over their papers. A majority of them were unfinished sentence fragments and paragraphs detailing cliche horrors. The Slender-man. Ghost girls crawling up from underneath little children’s beds and out of closets. Killers who wore masks and went after teenagers. A girl having a rattlesnake slither up her throat. Monsters already seen in countless horror films and stories and shows. Nothing too original, mind you.

Only one stood out of the pile. It was written by one of my least social students, Amanda Gonzalez, a brown eyed, black haired Latina girl who kept to herself. The other students didn’t like her, not all of them but enough for her to keep her hand down when I asked for volunteers. They threw racial slurs at her. I didn’t help because I didn’t see any malice to it. Almost everybody in our southern town throws those words around without a care.

As I read what she had wrote, my face went cold. It was only a single sentence.

“I’m sorry Mr. Richard, but I don’t want to hear those names again.”

A few seconds later, the first gunshot rang out from down the hallway.

Credits to: EvantheNerd83

S/C RPF

Originally posted by coldrainy

And the Hard Rain Fell

The hard rain fell.

I wrapped my coat tighter around my body, the sheets of rain pouring off my hood like a steady waterfall, masking my face.

Good. It hid the tears.

I didn’t want to be here. I’d have chosen anywhere in the world to be, rather than here. But sometimes, you don’t get to choose your moments. Sometimes, they choose you.

He would be home soon. I watched as headlights passed me by, one by one, none of them him. My eyes looked to the street-light above, hoping for some guidance; some light on whether I was doing the right thing. It didn’t even acknowledge me, but simply hung its head, unmoving, across the river below.

I watched as old winter leaves, floated along the streets, destined for the world below. An endless whirlpool of dizziness and cold. I knew its pain.

The water rushed forth, sending a small tidal wave to cover the sidewalk, soaking my shoes. I simply watched as the water parted round the leather, carrying along further down its path. I looked up to watch the car settle, but the engine still ran. Would he need a quick getaway?

I swallowed the tears down my throat as he exited the cab. Was there someone on the other side? Did I see blonde, or was it a figment of my imagination? My exhaustion. My eyes fought to adjust, like in some drunken stupor, a kaleidoscope of memories, fragmented throughout my brain.

He closed the car door gently, not moving far from its grasp, and just stood. I swallowed once more, too old for childish games, but in this moment, I could have been all of fourteen, my heart breaking for the first time.

He stole a glance to the sky as his red hair quickly lost its curl to the violence of the skies. Some strange wonderment in the back of my mind suddenly sent my mind whirling in a pool of curiosity. Why did he not put his hood on? It just lay there, cradling his shoulders, but he made no move to shield himself.

Instinctively, my hand reached out, a desire to cover and protect him, always close at hand; always the most natural of thoughts. But I didn’t walk forward; my arm just hung in the rain like some forbidden touch.

I slowly dropped it, as he closed the distance separating us. I could see his tears through the rain. They fell…differently, down his face. I suspected they did the same for me. He tilted his head to the side, and with barely a moment in time, his finger crossed my cheek to fold his open palm around my head, pulling me to his breast.

Still, the rain fell.

I sank into his body, the tears turning into full weeps. He didn’t try to hush me. Didn’t try to make it something other than what is was. There was no easing of pain. No words he could say, that would change the outcome of this day.

I gripped his coat, turning my head to the side. No. No blonde in there. Not this time, anyway.

I pulled back, my mouth opening, begging to call out his name. But if my voice had crossed my lips, it was lost in the sounds of the flooding night.

He took my hand, guiding me into the building. I vaguely recall the cab pulling away. She wasn’t in there. I know. I would have seen. But my mind played tricks, weaving along a spider’s web, from little white lie, to a magnificent trap of deceit.

The fluorescent light from the hallway, initially harsh and offensive, softened in my haze-filled mind. The fog of tears, making it almost ethereal. I sighed, my eyes closing as I listened to their soft hum. Angels singing? No. Angels weeping.

He pulled me from the hall into his dark flat. The heavy rain, snarling at the windows, casting a moving abstract across the shadowed floor.

I don’t remember the hitch of the door, leaving us in the glow of the watered-down streetlights outsides. I don’t recall him tugging on my sleeves, ridding me of my drenched coat. What I do remember is the coolness of his lips against my wet skin, almost reptilian, cold, like some demon, seducing me back into its grasp. I was aware of it all, and yet, my feet did not run.

His lips travelled around my neck, and with each moment, I felt the chill of the room grow colder. A new piece of clothing falling heavily on the floor.

And still, the rain fell.

I never turned to him. I never made a loving gesture or gentle caress. He did, though. He played me like a man picking up a finely tuned instrument, feeling its curves and flesh for the first time. Falling in love with each detail and dying inside as he played it, all the while, never feeling so alive. He knew the strings to play and the notes to pluck. And when he laid me down, my naked body below his, he conducted my body as if I were his magnum opus.

My legs around his thighs, sliding along his sweat like a steel guitar as he pushed inside me. His fingers, frolicking atop my clit, like a pizzicato on a violin, before the long, slow, push, deep inside me, joining his manhood, opening me to the first climax of our opera.

We were mostly silent, our gasps coming out in short breaths, but no words were spoken. It was rough and soft and all the wonderful things in the middle. It was racing to the end, and loitering around the beginning. It was two teenagers, learning each other’s’ bodies for the first time and it was two people, that had loved each other their whole lives and couldn’t bear to let go.

His body, blanketing mine, was still, save the shallow thrust of his hips. We had climaxed several times; the sheets, stained with all we had left to give, felt cool and tainted. No longer sexy and erotic.

I turned my head to the window as he held me tight, his lips imprisoning a taut nipple. I couldn’t go back. Too much had happened. My heart, bruised and tattered like so many before, had ceased to beat. At least, for him, anyway. There was a numbness when his name was spoken, like some distant song you struggle to hear, as the rest of the world falls away. Too many stories were told; too many photos scattered across the floor.

I couldn’t hear him anymore. His voice, no longer the sound of happiness and titillation inside my body. His lips, no longer speaking the words of passion and beauty. His caress, like icicles forming across my skin on a cold December night.

Ever still, the rain fell.

He had fallen asleep inside me, as he had often done before. But the faintest of memories, told me I had once loved that feeling. Held him tighter still. But now, now there was this unyielding, cruel, weight across my breast. He felt wrong. A momentarily sadness floated through my mind that I shouldn’t feel this way, but I pushed him off anyway. When he fell alongside me, I breathed an air that felt fresh and invigorating, like a drowning child, being pulled from the waves.

His eyes jumped, like a frog leaping from stone to stone, as I watched him sleep. What was he dreaming of? After weeks – months - of strain, I finally saw it there. The curve of his lips as his body relaxed in sleep. The rumble of his chest as he softly snored. A man, that only found true peace, when the rest of the world fell away. I etched out his form in my mind, memorizing and cataloguing every ripple of muscle and each vein, strong and proud. Each slope of his knees and freckle upon his flesh. The way the curve of his hips, guided your eyes to his groin, and the sharpness of his collarbone, you wanted to slice you lips on as you tried to bury yourself in his body. And his fingers, with their gentle stroke and whip of pleasure, his thumb drying my tears, before the middle and index fingers joined in a marriage of pleasure, pushing inside my body, calling forth the ecstasy that lay hidden deep within me.

I inhaled his smell, my own sex, twisting and catching in my senses as well. I closed my eyes, sealing each piece in memory, like strands of hair nestled in a locket.

I eased my way from the bed, gathering my clothes from the floor, my eyes never leaving his sleeping face. He was beautiful once. We were. But too many lies and too many schemes, had taken their toll. He wasn’t mine anymore, but I suspected, I would always be his. In his thoughts, late at night, when the world is asleep, and the phone is set to silent as the glow of the computer is extinguished, and all he has left are his thoughts that he fights so hard to rid himself of; he’ll recall me. And I might just come crawling back, like a wounded animal, begging for love and mercy. Or, just maybe, I may hear his haunting voice calling my name on the breeze, calling me for comfort, to lay in his bed and in his arms, and promptly shut the window.

And with the twisting of a handle, a tug on the door and the strongest will I could gather to not look behind, I left the dark, and welcomed the light.

And the rain fell silent; its rapping on the walls, no more.

The American Burden

And now I see how it has evolved, into a lesser injustice but still an injustice in itself, oppression cloaked in self-serving liberalism. “The White Man’s Burden” slowly turns into “The American burden.” 

(Inspired by those US-centric people who can’t stay their lane) 

For the Filipinos who’d been called names because they want the Filipino voice heard, this is for you guys! Don’t be discouraged to speak up and be heard!

Note: The White Man’s Burden is a poem by Rudyard Kipling. It was used as a propaganda for the U.S. to exploit the Philippines in the 1900s.

“Take up the White Man’s burden, Send forth the best ye breed
  Go bind your sons to exile, to serve your captives’ need;
To wait in heavy harness, On fluttered folk and wild—
Your new-caught, sullen peoples, Half-devil and half-child.”

They may call us “a Slavers’ Race”, “Slavery Apologists” or whatever words they let out lightly. Don’t let their words get to you. These are chains they put on us. These are their new labels for “half-devil and half-child.” These are words they use to dominate over us and talk over us with things we know better than they ever can and they ever will. Don’t let them hold you captive. Don’t let them hold you back. Your voice is important. Your voice needs to be heard.

“Take up the White Man’s burden, In patience to abide,
  To veil the threat of terror And check the show of pride;
By open speech and simple, An hundred times made plain
  To seek another’s profit, And work another’s gain.”

They may tell you that this is for us, that this is them trying “to seek another’s profit.” But you’ll find it in their words. It was never about us for them. It was never about us trying to find our culture, the very one they’ve robbed us of. At the end of the day, they just clean the hands of White oppressors so they feel better about themselves or they change its course to talk about black people, at the expense of our own voice, our own struggles. When you hear them say it is for the Filipino, don’t believe them. They don’t know an inkling of what we’ve seen, what we’ve lived first hand. They can sympathize but they can never understand. That is why we speak. That is why we stand. Take hold of this. Take hold of what defines a Filipino. This is not meant for their gain. This is for ours, for us to gain a better grasp of our culture and ourselves and further both. This is for the Filipino people.

“Take up the White Man’s burden And reap his old reward:
 The blame of those ye better, The hate of those ye guard—
The cry of hosts ye humour (Ah, slowly!) toward the light:—
 "Why brought he us from bondage, Our loved Egyptian night?“

They may twist your words, tell you that it is only your bitterness towards the Americans that drives you to speak up, that they are right and you are wrong, that theirs is the way “toward the light.” Don’t let them. You have every right to be bitter. They’ve benefited from America’s exploitation of the Philippines. Let their privilege be known to them. Tell them the dimming light of this country is because of the oppression from America and those centuries worth from colonizers, both foreign (Spain, America, Japan) and Filipino themselves. We know better than they do how the lights go from bad to worse. This is our roof. This is our home. It is us who can find the light to fix our struggles. It is us who can change the lightbulb.

 So speak up. Be heard. We’ve gone unnoticed and unheard for far too long. Let them know who the Filipino people really are. Let them know of our culture, of our struggles, of how tangled our society is. Let us attempt to dismantle them and build them anew, better and stronger. 

Bagyo lang yung mga insulto ng mga kano at lilipas din yan. Pero yung mga bagay na matututunan natin mula sa pakikipag-usap sa kapwa nating Pilipino, tatatak yan sa puso natin habang buhay. 

Prompt: “What about a Soulmate one with bones.” -Anon

Word Count: 2,140

Author’s Note: In doing my research for this one, I learned that I think I love this trope. It’s so cute. I hope you guys like this, we’ve been waiting on this one for a while!

Tags: @bkwrm523

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Nocturne op.48 No.1
Frédéric Chopin
Nocturne op.48 No.1

The Nocturne in C minor, Op. 48, No. 1 is initially marked lento and is in 4/4 meter. The piece becomes poco più lento at measure 25 and enters its middle section, which is a chorale. Later, it moves to doppio movimento agitato at measure 49. The piece is a total of 77 measures long. In general, the scheme of the music is ternary form and follows A-B-A’.

The Nocturne in C minor has been categorized as one of Chopin’s greatest emotional achievements. Theodor Kullak said of the piece, “the design and poetic contents of this nocturne make it the most important one that Chopin created; the chief subject is a masterly expression of a great powerful grief.”Jan Kleczyński, Sr. calls the nocturne “broad and most imposing with its powerful intermediate movement, a thorough departure from the nocturne style." Some musical critics, including Charles Willeby and Frederick Niecks, do not think the piece deserves its fame and position; though James Huneker agrees with this assessment, he notes that the nocturne is still "the noblest nocturne of them all." James Friskin found the music to have "the most imposing instrumental effect of any of the nocturnes,” calling the crescendo and octaves “almost Lisztian.”

Jim Samson notes that the nocturne intensifies “not through ornamentation, but through a new textural background." Kleczyński commented that the middle section "is the tale of a still greater grief told in an agitated recitando; celestial harps come to bring one ray of hope, which is powerless in its endeavor to calm the wounded soul, which…sends forth to heaven a cry of deepest anguish."The ending, according to Samson, is "in the nature of an elaborated ’feminine ending’, articulating the reactive final beat of an amphibrach grouping.”

One of Chopin’s most beautiful pieces. People like to call this one of Chopin’s mini ballades… This ever evolving piece evokes the strongest of emotions in me.

Performer:Arthur Rubinstein. There is no better version of this piece by anyone else. He didn’t want to show his technic but his sensibility.Definitely  he was an awesome pianist !

Aqours - academical headcanons

@kyokanan and I come up with some good (and sometimes crazy and more often angsty) stuff for Aqours. Like, seriously, what are we doing? I don’t know. xD

Now, have a blink on what’s constantly being send back and forth between us. I spare you the angst, have the fun - Aqours’ academical headcanons.


Dia - Uranohoshi’s top student, pride of the Kurosawa family. She’s just as you’d imagine her. Excells at all subjects (PE does not count, in her opinion) with relative ease. Extremely proud that she always scored first in every test… except that one time where someone actually managed to beat her. She refuses to acknowledge that ever happened. She is the student council president and a Kurosawa after all. She won’t fail. Never. And of course she expects nothing less from the rest of Aqours, too, but…. yeah.

Mari - The one and only who managed to beat Dia once! To this day, no one knows how she did that and Dia was so done after the announcement. No one has ever seen her study. She fools around, gets distracted and does not pay attention in class. So everyone expects her grades to be not that good? But she is actually second, closely behind Dia. Only smirks if you ever question her how the hell she does that. Fun fact: The night before tests the orders of coffee at the Awashima Hotel skyrocket.

Riko - She’s the ray of hope for Dia because she is actually quite good and ranks third among Aqours overall. She may not be as naturally gifted as others and has some problems in some subjects but she makes up for it by working hard. Actually the best among all second years at Uranohoshi. Fun fact: Ever since transferring her results in PE, especially track and stuff, have improved a whole lot. There might be a connection with a certain Mikan mentioning a certain dog once it’s Riko’s turn to run.

Ruby - You’d never guess it, but Ruby ranks 4th overall. Rather similar to Riko actually. She does have her fair share of problems but she really tries and studies. Her big sister is her role model after all and she wants to make her proud. Dia thinks she could do better with a little more self-confidence but she is still proud. Shines whenever she gets interested in a topic because she’d look up all kinds of stuff. If that happens she even rivals Dia.

Hanamaru - Zuramaru could be a lot better… if it weren’t for science. She excells at literature and languages and she enjoys these subjects a whole lot. Sometimes even the second and third years ask her stuff and 9 out of 10 times she can help them. But science… not a single lessons goes by without at least one quite and amazed “Mirai, zura!” from the back of the room. All attempts to tutor her have failed so far because Maru would be so amazed by little things that they won’t be able to deepen the topic.

Kanan - Under normal circumstances Kanan would be 4th or on par with Riko. But due to her absence from school she missed quite a lot and has to catch up on all of it. Which is actually quite difficult for her. She’s the type who picks up a lot of stuff during lessons by listening to explanations; not so much by studying. So Dia (and Mari, too, but she is not that much of help) tutors her. Fun fact: Got scolded by Dia ever since middle school “Kanan-san, if you’d spent less time diving and more time studying then-” “Nah, it’s fine. Wanna go swimming?”

Which leads me… to the baka-trio of Aqours.

You - She’s “the best” out of these three. Ya’ see, You is giving Dia a headache. Naturally she is about average in all subjects. Without studying that much. Except PE, she’s the MVP among all the second years and the team with her almost certainly wins. That’s a rule. The problem is that someone is a rather bad influence and manages to distract her 99% of the time she should be studying. Fun fact: Did I say she was best at sports among the second years? Not even You can beat Riko running for her life when she is “chased” by a dog.

Chika - According to herself she does study on a regular basis, she doesn’t know why she has bad gra- Oh, is that a seagull sitting on that branch? How pretty. Literally 1000 things will become more interesting than studying and all of them will manage to distract her. Will manage to get You joining her in doing everything but studying every single time. The reason why she hasn’t failed tests yet are the last minute study sessions she’ll have with You. Fun fact: Dia is her new tutor, alongside Riko. Or they should be, but to Chika they are totally different people.

Yoshi.. Yohane! - There is no need for a fallen angel to study human arts or science. The black arts are most important and should be taught at school. Handed in quite a number of application forms to include this into the normal schedule. Dia has torn every single one of them into half. Study sessions with her are a pain and Dia would have already given up if it weren’t for Hanamaru who takes Yohane’s black feather “hostage” for as long as she doesn’t take things seriously. Fun fact: Zuramaru and Yohane make a deal for every test that’s coming up. If she manages to score more than 60 little demon Maru will volunteer in the next dark ritual. Yohane does study.