#After Sun Products Market | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

abbyshands · 2 months

Text

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ YOU GOT ME, DARLING 𓄀 part 1

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

𓄀 pairing: cowgirl!reader x city girl!abby anderson

𓄀 includes: masc!reader, tall!reader, reader has tattoos and piercings and is implied to be muscular, established friendships (abby x ellie, dina, and manny), reader has an established backstory, modern setting, flirting, reader has an accent so read as such!

𓄀 summary: you decide to represent your business, cowboy classics, at seattle’s annual farmer’s market, unaware that the universe would send an angel with blonde hair and blue eyes to your feet.

𓄀 notes: so i had a lil’ idea and i ran with it so i present this lil’ series i’m gonna start <3 i have lots of ideas for it so be prepared for it to be a lil’ all over the place if i’m being honest. also, eventual smut of course! please comment or let me know if you want to be tagged. alright now, enjoy! ♡

𓄀 wc: 3k

every year, seattle hosts a farmer’s market that lasts a week, the hottest week of the summer. for the last, dear god, however many years you had lived here, you had never come to it, much less represented your business at it. but this year, you figured, why not? all your other friends were pooling into the heart of the city to attend the yearly market, so why couldn’t you?

you weren’t the biggest fan of seattle when you first arrived here. it was a stark contrast from where you grew up, a little prairie in rural texas. you remember shuddering each time you passed by a building the first week you lived here, wondering, where the hell are the fields?

seattle was just so different. rainy, cold, urbanized down to the last letter. you had moved here from texas when you were only 18 by your parents’ wishes for you to go to a college, get a degree, and get a damn job. your parents had been hard on you growing up for reasons unbeknownst to you, not like it mattered. not then, and not now.

after studying in college for two years and narrowly managing to get an associate’s degree in business, you decided to not pursue your bachelor’s, instead getting right to work. you earned yourself a job as a construction worker, the closest you had gotten to home since moving to seattle two years prior. the hot days when the sun came out in the summer, the rigorous work outside, the dirt on your skin by evening to show for a job well done. it was all you could have asked for and more.

when you managed to get yourself afloat, considerably well off, you ventured right outside urban seattle and scored yourself a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, far up a mile long dirt road. it was perfect, reminiscent of that old texas charm you had missed so dearly since leaving it. and then, when you finally settled down, you purchased a place bordering the urban and rural areas of seattle to make your own, where you used your associate’s degree and your casual texan charm to open a business.

cowboy classics read the sign hanging off your stand as the hot summer sun beat down on your back, shining down on your skin, which glistened with sweat as you set up your stand. thank god your stall had a roof, or else you’d be a goner for the next few hours that you’d be at the farmer’s market.

the market was crowded that morning, and more people were drawn to you and your stand than you were ready for. you couldn’t say you weren’t flattered, especially when you made a solid hundred dollars in the first hour and pretty girls were all but falling at your feet to buy your merchandise.

cowboy classics consisted of several products right off your farm. fruits like apples, berries, and melons, veggies like corn and peppers, and herbs of all kinds, such as cilantro, parsley, and rosemary, which you had grown yourself. dairy products, like fresh milk in classic milk jugs, regular and strawberry, cream cheese, and smooth butter. jams and jellies that the folks back home and your friends here in seattle could die for. and last but not least, handmade soaps and candles.

one would wonder why your shop was called cowboy classics when you were clearly a girl, if it weren’t for your heavily masculine energy. it seemed to radiate off of you, like the very sunrays shining down on your skin. from your voice, deep and low, thick with a rural texan accent, to your attire, a flannel and jeans, a belt with a big buckle and boots, and you couldn’t miss the cowboy hat, to even your scent, musky cologne mixed with the smells of your farm and all the products you produced from it.

now, city girl abby anderson couldn’t be further from a cowgirl. having grown up in the heart of seattle, washington, abigail “abby” anderson works as a personal trainer at a gym a few blocks away from her house. as tall, big, and muscular as she is, she couldn’t be more awkward. she wasn’t clueless, she just preferred her bed to being so human as to socialize. she was a little shy, but complex in nature, her sweet blue eyes easy to get lost in, her blonde hair shaping her freckled face to flawlessness.

the yearly market was always fun for abby. her dad would always take a few days off his shifts at the hospital just to bring abby to the market, unable to resist the way her eyes lit up when they settled on all the wonders the place had to offer, at least for a little girl. now that she was older, she had grown to adore it even more. it was all so raw, so natural, and the products at the market were inexpensive and could actually be of use to her.

abby was walking through the market with a few friends beside her. her best friend, ellie, her girlfriend, dina, and one of abby’s closest friends, manny. manny liked the market as much as abby did, though it was less for what you could buy and more for what you could take home with you. in other words, the pretty girls. ellie previously just liked to accompany abby to the market, but since having met dina, she came more for dina’s love of it.

“shit, it’s hot,” abby said, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead for the third time in the last ten minutes. her pale forehead glistened with sweat, little blonde baby hairs plastered to it.

ellie chuckled, nodding. “this heat wave’s no fucking joke. we’re going to be liquid by the time we get out of here.”

“ooh, look at that! those shirts are so cute!” dina suddenly exclaimed, causing the group’s attention to snap to a stand of hand knitted shirts and randomized accessories, like scarves, purses, and gloves. before ellie could even respond, dina was dragging her by the hand to the stand.

abby chuckled, having grown quite used to dina’s impulsive nature. when she turned to her side to look to manny, she realized that he had also wandered off, easily finding him chatting up a pretty girl at a different stall. abby rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the amusement off her face. those were her friends for you. looks like she was on her own.

if she was being honest, she preferred to walk through the market alone, at least when she was actually looking through the vendors for good finds. it was reminiscent of her childhood, this little piece of seattle that gave the city girl a taste of what it was like on the other side of urban, even if it only lasted a week.

abby was walking through the market, having yet to find a stand that piqued her interest, when one poked out at her. curiously, she squinted to get a better look at it, her feet approaching it of their own accord. the owner’s back was turned, but abby could tell that it was a woman, one that was a sight for sore eyes, at that. but what interested her, too, was the variety of products at the stand, produce and dairy products, jams and jellies, paired with what looked like soaps and candles.

it was only when she turned around that abby’s attention was hers, and hers only.

who the hell is that?

the closer abby got to your stand, the more intrigued by you she was. you had a face that could bring anybody to their knees, clad in a flannel and dark blue jeans, a brown belt with a huge buckle, and jesus christ, a black cowboy hat to top it off. it was like she had looked one way and been in seattle, washington, than turned and teleported into rural texas. she couldn’t help the way her eyes raked over your body, taking you in in all your glory, tattooed arms and hands with a prominent tattoo on your neck and collarbone, several silver piercings in your ears.

alright, she’d bite.

and she hoped you would, too.

your interest was piqued when you saw her walking up to your stand. the girls who had approached you thus far were pretty, but this girl was a downright stunner. blonde hair tied back in a braid that fell over her right shoulder, exposed by her black tank top, paired with her brown cargo shorts. she had these pretty blue eyes, too, pretty blue eyes that sparkled like sweet diamonds in the burning seattle sun, accompanying the prominent freckles on her nose and cheeks.

she was muscular like you, only it peaked out in her arms, hands, and thighs, whereas your muscle presented itself in your broad shoulders and chest. you can’t wipe the grin off your face as she approaches your stand, and you set down the soaps you’d just picked up from a crate behind you on the stand, seeing as you had just sold out for the second time since arriving at the market.

“hey there,” you smile at her, and shit, even your voice is alluring, and it matches your face just right. dark, deep and low and thick with rasp, a texan accent to it that was impossible to miss. it was embarrassing for the blonde, just how fast her face heated up, that is, and she gave you a shy smile in response, along with a little awkward wave. “see somethin’ ya’like, baby?”

yes, you.

abby cleared her throat, nodding, trying so hard to ignore the way her stomach flips at the way that last word slipped off your lips. “uh, yeah. your stand is really cool,” abby said, a rosy blush covering her cheeks and nose as she inspected the soaps you had just set down on the counter. before you can respond to her compliment, she asks, “did you make these yourself?”

you nod to confirm, looking down at the soaps she was referring to. “sure did. handmade all day. the folks here quite like ‘em. sold out twice,” you said, leaning over the counter, eyes settled on the blonde girl before you. abby’s battling to ignore how nervous she feels at being in the presence of such a handsome woman, heavily aware of how much taller than her you are.

and she never meets girls who are taller than her.

abby takes one of the soaps into her hands. pine, her scent of choice in cologne, hair products, air freshener, candles, whatever it may be. she would marry the damn scent if she could. reading the label, she realized the scent of the little handmade bar of soap was a mix of pine and vanilla, and she lifted it to her nose to give it a smell, earning the blonde’s instant approval. “well, i can see why. this smells great,” abby commented.

“i’m glad’ya like it,” you chuckle as your tongue darts out to lick your lips, your eyes raking over the girl for the millionth time since she had walked up to your stand. you can’t help but be curious about her. unlike most of the girls you had met at the market thus far, she wasn’t throwing herself at your feet.

though you wouldn’t mind if she did.

“i’m abigail, by the way. abby,” abby said with that awkward grin of hers, putting her hand out for you to shake. abigail. jesus christ, she never introduced herself like that. you were making the poor girl so nervous she couldn't even think right. you take her hand into yours, kissing the back of it before telling her your own name, tipping your hat. shit, even your name made her heart skip a beat.

was there a damn thing about you that abby anderson wasn’t attracted to?

“it’s nice to meet you,” abby smiled, unable to tear her eyes away from you and all the products your stand had to offer. she walked over to a little shelf beside it, stocked with candles of all scents. “did you make these, too?”

“that i did, darlin’. use the same scents as i do the soaps, so if’ya like that pine one, it’s there,” you say. abby nods. you didn’t have to tell her twice. somehow, it only smells better to her when the scent of pine and vanilla fills her nose in the form of a candle. and, of course, because you made it. she sets the candle and soap onto your stand, timid as she slides them over to you, a small mumble of, “just these,” leaving her lips.

you take the candle into your hands, grabbing a piece of brown wrapping paper from the stack of it you had behind the stand. you put it down, setting the candle in the middle of the sheet of paper before wrapping it up and putting it into a little bag alongside the soap. abby would be drooling if her lips were parted, watching the way your muscles flex at even the smallest movements as you wrap the candle up for her.

you give abby a price, to which she takes out her wallet and hands you the bills, graciously telling you to keep the change. you smile at her, more than thankful for her kindness, but not needing the extra money. “that’s alright, baby. i’ll get’ya your change, though i appreciate the gesture,” you return, reaching behind you to fetch a few ones and coins. but not before abby cuts you off.

“n- no, really, i insist. you deserve it,” abby says a little too quickly. an angel this one was, that was for damn sure.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “well, aren’t you sweet. insist, huh?”

abby nods firmly, though the blush on her cheeks betrays the show of confidence. “yes, i insist. you’re going to be here all day, you’re selling awesome products, and you’re hot. it’s the least i could do,” she says, like the fact was common knowledge. you lean in just to tease her, raising an eyebrow.

“ya’think i’m hot, darlin’?”

abby’s eyes widen at how close you get to her face, and how suddenly aware she is of her own existence. she almost can’t hear you over the sound of her heart rattling in her ears, pumping in her chest as the musky scent of your cologne fills her nose. she tries and fails to not let her eyes wander down to your lips and fuck, her head was spinning, spiraling with the handsome cowgirl she could die happy now that she’d met.

you sure as hell don’t miss it.

“well, thank’ya kindly, darlin’. you’re mighty fine yourself,” you smirk, and abby’s head was spinning. how did people like you even exist in real life? you were right of of a western movie, the way you looked, the way you sounded, even your energy alone was enough to throw a city girl like abby for a loop. “but you’re damn right. fuck, sweatin’ like a damn sinner in church in this heat,” you say, taking a second to stretch as you do.

abby can’t help the way her cheeks burn at the simple act of you cussing. and she’d tear her eyes from you right now, if it weren’t for the way your flannel rises when you stretch, revealing the lower part of your torso. you make direct eye contact with her and shoot one of your signature smirks her way before speaking. “well, if you’re gonna be such a sweetheart, s’only fair i do a little somethin’ in return,” you say. you reach behind you to the little cooler that’s filled with all the dairy products you make on your farm, rummaging through it. “d’ya like strawberries?”

abby nodded, wondering what you were getting at. “i do.”

“alright, then,” you nod in return, pulling out one of your jugs of strawberry milk and sliding it across the counter towards her. “can’t have a pretty thing like you burnin’ up in this heat, now can we? promise you’ll like it.”

abby cursed the blush on her cheeks, hoping you’d think she was getting sunburnt instead. pretty. you think she’s fucking pretty. “i- i’m sure i will, but i don’t think the change i gave you covers this,” abby said, just about ready to reach into her wallet and give you every last bill in it. but you shake your head, taking her previous words.

“ah ah ah. i insist. alright?” you say, and there’s a no nonsense way about the words that leave your lips, like you won’t take no for an answer, so firm that it sends chills down abby’s spine. she pouts and she’s fucking adorable as she does it. and when she gives you a reluctant nod, you smile. “attagirl.”

jesus christ.

“i’m going to pay you back for this. somehow,” abby says, a hint of brattiness to her voice. you can’t say you don’t like it, especially when it’s accompanied with that cute pout of hers. you chuckle as she asks, “what do you want?”

“hm,” you pretend to think about it, putting your hands on your hips as you push your tongue into your cheek. abby’s trying and failing hard not to look at the sweat dripping down your tattooed arms. you make up your mind, then look down at her. “why don’t��cha come back tomorrow? late, when the market’s ‘bout to close. i’ll show’ya how to make it up to me,” you say with a wink.

abby’s heart skips a beat at your words. she doesn’t think she’s ever been more happy to hear a promise like that one. her smile is equal parts coy and shy as she responds to you. “i’ll be here.”

no matter how confident you look on the outside, butterflies are swarming ‘round your belly within. a pretty girl like this one, shy and sweet, generous and kind, was going to come back tomorrow to see you, no convincing needed. had you died and gone to heaven? you smile, blowing abby a little kiss. “alright, then. take care now, abigail,” you tease, just as she’s about to walk away. abby playfully rolls her eyes at you.

“abby.”

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ taglist! @aouiaa @plutolovesyou @soupycloud @xayn-xd

378 notes · View notes

honeytonedhottie · 4 months

Text

HONEYS IT GIRL MAGAZINE may edition⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the may catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion. a magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

FOR THE WELLNESS GIRLIES ;

this month i discovered ballerina tea! and if u dont know what ballerina tea is, im going to put you on bcuz thats the whole point of the it girls magazine. the key ingredients in ballerina tea is senna and chinese mallow.

so essentially ballerina tea contains herbs that some cultures have traditionally used for a long time. its marketed as a weight loss tea but thats not all true. ballerina tea has a laxative effect and is really good for DETOXIFICATION and translate into lost weight in the form of water and stools.

while we are on the topic of consumption this is your reminder to eat ur fresh fruits and veggies! lets talk about ways to incorporate more fresh foods into our everyday diet.

if u like to snack, make fruits and vegetables more accessible for you. by prepping snacks before the cravings start, your snacking smarter.

start making smoothies or açai bowls as a rly yummy and easy way of getting fresh fruits daily.

make tasty veggie platters with home made sauces as a way to get in vegetables, or find a way to incorporate veggies into ur favorite recipes.

something that i did recently that has improved the quality of my diet is simply making some foods from scratch. for example i had a huge craving for fries, so i made home made fries and i can guarantee its 10X better then the processed fries that i would've gotten.

THE SCRAMBLE FOR SUMMER PLANS ;

school is FINALLY done. we are free to enjoy our hot girl summers! but now that school is done i find myself faced with the "now what?" question. no but seriously now what? no one wants to have a wasted summer, and ik u dont either so make sure to live up ur summer!

i did not take my own advice and i did not make preparations in advance for my summer so as of writing this post i have no plans, so im scrambling to make plans with my friends and set things up for myself. im planning out things like girls trips to the city, shopping trips, parties, dinners etc etc. and ofc manifesting for the vacation that i deserve.

HONEYS BEAUTY CORNER ;

SUPER EASY TANNING ROUTINE - tanning is one of the most important parts of summer! to start ur tanning routine, first things first set up a tanning playlist. my tanning playlist consists of songs like espresso by sabrina carpenter, nasty by tinashe, and turn it up by pink pantheress.

next apply some SPF to protect ur skin from the hot sun and apply some tanning oil if u have it. something else important to remember when tanning is to cooldown after tanning so keep some aloe vera gel on hand to avoid burning. we wanna TAN not burn.

tan the front then the back (each in 10 minute intervals) by the time ur done each side should tan for about 20 minutes each. so it'd be something like (front - 10 minutes, back - 10 minutes, front - 10 minutes, back - 10 minutes)

afterwards COOL DOWN with some swimming, some aloe vera, have a tasty mocktail/cocktail, apply some tanning oil and repeat the process one more time.

SMELLING LIKE THE BEACH - if u wanna smell like the beach, go to the beach. but if u wanna have the same effect i recommend the following products : the watermelon and coconut scented tree hut scrubs. the maui hair products. cabana girl body wash from philosophy. the bum bum body scrub. sol de janeiro rio radiance. ;

DIONNE FROM CLUELESS - STYLE DISSECTION ;

dionne is my absolute favorite character in the clueless movie and show for a MULTITUDE of different reasons. she is the embodiment of black femininity, girlyness, and she just exudes the lavish energy that we all know and love!

lets start off by talking about the way that dionne styles her hair. dionne's hair is so healthy, bouncy and absolutely GORGEOUS. she frequently styles her hair with things like headbands and clips. i've seen her in lots of different hairstyles and she always EATS.

dionne isnt particularly drawn to one specific color, the colors that she wears ranges depending on her outfit but everything is so well put together. one of dionne's most ICONIC looks is her unforgettable burgundy velvet dress with some white detaling.

423 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months

Text

A taxonomy of corporate bullshit

Next Tuesday (Oct 31) at 10hPT, the Internet Archive is livestreaming my presentation on my recent book, The Internet Con.

There are six lies that corporations have told since time immemorial, and Nick Hanauer, Joan Walsh and Donald Cohen's new book Corporate Bullsht: Exposing the Lies and Half-Truths That Protect Profit, Power, and Wealth in America* provides an essential taxonomy of this dirty six:

https://thenewpress.com/books/corporate-bullsht

In his review for The American Prospect, David Dayen summarizes how these six lies "offer a civic-minded, reasonable-sounding justification for positions that in fact are motivated entirely by self-interest":

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2023-10-27-lies-my-corporation-told-me-hanauer-walsh-cohen-review/

I. Pure denial

As far back as the slave trade, corporate apologists and mouthpieces have led by asserting that true things are false, and vice-versa. In 1837, John Calhoun asserted that "Never before has the black race of Central Africa, from the dawn of history to the present day, attained a condition so civilized and so improved, not only physically, but morally and intellectually." George Fitzhugh called enslaved Africans in America "the freest people in the world."

This tactic never went away. Children sent to work in factories are "perfectly happy." Polluted water is "purer than the water that came from the river before we used it." Poor families "don't really exist." Pesticides don't lead to "illness or death." Climate change is "beneficial." Lead "helps guard your health."

II. Markets can solve problems, governments can't

Alan Greenspan made a career out of blithely asserting that markets self-correct. It was only after the world economy imploded in 2008 that he admitted that his doctrine had a "flaw":

https://www.pbs.org/newshour/show/greenspan-admits-flaw-to-congress-predicts-more-economic-problems

No matter how serious a problem is, the market will fix it. In 1973, the US Chamber of Commerce railed against safety regulations, because "safety is good business," and could be left to the market. If unsafe products persist in the market, it's because consumers choose to trade safety off "for a lower price tag" (Chamber spox Laurence Kraus). Racism can't be corrected with anti-discrimination laws. It's only when "the market" realizes that racism is bad for business that it will finally be abolished.

III. Consumers and workers are to blame

In 1946, the National Coal Association blamed rampant deaths and maimings in the country's coal-mines on "carelessness on the part of men." In 2003, the National Restaurant Association sang the same tune, condemning nutritional labels because "there are not good or bad foods. There are good and bad diets." Reagan's interior secretary Donald Hodel counseled personal responsibility to address a thinning ozone layer: "people who don’t stand out in the sun—it doesn’t affect them."

IV. Government cures are always worse than the disease

Lee Iacocca called 1970's Clean Air Act "a threat to the entire American economy and to every person in America." Every labor and consumer protection before and since has been damned as a plague on American jobs and prosperity. The incentive to work can't survive Social Security, welfare or unemployment insurance. Minimum wages kill jobs, etc etc.

V. Helping people only hurts them

Medicare will "destroy private initiative for our aged to protect themselves with insurance" (Republican Senator Milward Simpson, 1965). Covid relief is unfair to people that are currently in the workforce" (Republican Governor Brian Kemp, 2021). Welfare produces "learned helplessness."

VI. Everyone who disagrees with me is a socialist

Grover Cleveland's 2% on top incomes is "communistic warfare against rights of property" (NY Tribune, 1895). "Socialized medicine" will leave "our children and our children’s children [asking] what it once was like in America when men were free" (Reagan, 1961).

Everything is "socialism": anti-child labor laws, Social Security, minimum wages, family and medical leave. Even fascism is socialism! In 1938, the National Association of Manufacturers called labor rights "communism, bolshevism, fascism, and Nazism."

As Dayen says, it's refreshing to see how the right hasn't had an original idea in 150 years, and simply relies on repeating the same nonsense with minor updates. Right wing ideological innovation consists of finding new ways to say, "actually, your boss is right."

The left's great curse is object permanence: the ability to remember things, like the fact that it used to be possible for a worker to support a family of five on a single income, or that the economy once experienced decades of growth with a 90%+ top rate of income tax (other things the left manages to remember: the "intelligence community" are sociopathic monsters, not Trump-slaying heroes).

When the business lobby rails against long-overdue antitrust action against Amazon and Google, object permanence puts it all in perspective. The talking points about this being job-destroying socialism are the same warmed-over nonsense used to defend rail-barons and Rockefeller. "If you don't like it, shop elsewhere," has been the corporate apologist's line since slavery times.

As Dayen says, Corporate Bullshit is a "reference book for conservative debating points, in an attempt to rob them of their rhetorical power." It will be out on Halloween:

https://bookshop.org/a/54985/9781620977514

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/27/six-sells/#youre-holding-it-wrong

#pluralistic #corporate bullshit #lies #books #reviews #taxonomies #labor #denialism #consumerism #Nick Hanauer #Joan Walsh #Donald Cohen #history #object permanence #taking the right seriously

838 notes · View notes

breelandwalker · 3 months

Text

Strawberry Moon - June 21, 2024

Grab your baskets and your moon jars, witches - it's time for the Strawberry Moon!

Strawberry Moon 🍓

The Strawberry Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of June in the Northern Hemisphere. The name is taken from the ripening of those little red heart-shaped berries we find in so many summertime treats. Strawberries are typically ready to harvest beginning around the summer solstice, though this will vary depending on variety, planting times, and local weather. Sadly, the Strawberry Moon does not turn red or pink to match the berries.

Other European names for this moon include Honey Moon, Rose Moon, and Mead Moon. North American Indigenous names for the June moon include Blooming Moon (Anishinaabe), Green Corn Moon (Cherokee), and Hatching Moon (Cree).

This year's Strawberry Moon also roughly coincides with the summer solstice in the Northern Hemisphere, with peak illumination occurring at 9:08pm EST on June 21st. (The solstice is occurring one day prior, on June 20th.)

What Does It Mean For Witches? 🍓

Full moons are excellent times for bringing wishes to fulfillment and plans to fruition, all the more so under one named after a prolific berry. This is an optimal time to make things happen!

Your intuition may be stronger than usual during this time, so pay attention to those little inklings and gut feelings that won't be ignored. They might be telling you something important. Dreams may also be more vivid, though not necessarily more accurate or revealing.

This is a time to explore things that catch your attention or pique your curiosity, and to let yourself be open to new ideas and new opportunities.

What Witchy Things Can We Do? 🍓

With a full moon ripening in the sky and the summer solstice upon us, it's time to prepare for a full bloom. Here's hoping you've been nurturing those plans and seeds of growth you planted in the spring, because they're about to start flowering and the way is clear to sow the next stage of your plans. What they will be and what new prospects the summer will bring is entirely up to you.

The full moon is always a good time to look ahead to the future. Think on the plans you have in process and let yourself dream of how things might turn out. If you're inclined to journaling, make a note of how things are going so far and how you hope they'll turn out. Pick your favorite divination method and do a reading for the month ahead. (Make sure you write that down too so you can check back later!)

This is a great time to go berry-picking or flower-gathering, so check your area for pick-your-own farms or farmer's markets with local produce. Have a picnic with friends or just enjoy a quiet afternoon with your own thoughts and a few favorite treats. Make a jar of sun tea or a sweet and summery berry salad. If you're partial to strawberries, indulge that sweet tooth!

Strawberries are also excellent ingredient in spells for love, beauty, fertility, and emotional healing. Create a charm for self-love or perhaps to attract a summer romance. Enchant your favorite makeup or skin care products with a glamour of confidence. Just as expectant mothers once carried strawberry leaves as a folk remedy for pregnancy pains, you can carry a clutch of them in your pocket to help heal a broken heart or assuage the pain of grief. A packet of strawberry leaves is also a potent good-luck charm. Snack on strawberries to bring fertile abundance into your life, whether you're looking for creativity or opportunity or perhaps hoping to grow your family this year.

Charge your crystals and spell jars and moon water under the light of Strawberry Moon to catch the energy of blooming flowers, ripening fruit, wishes coming true, and carefully-laid plans realized. (If you're planning to use it for any consumables, please make sure you're using fresh, potable drinking water rather than rain or runoff.)

Spend a little time reflecting on how your year has gone thus far. Try to focus on the things that have improved and how you've grown as a person and in your life journey. Reflect on your accomplishments and what you plan to do next. Take a moment to be unashamedly proud of yourself for everything you've done and for making it this far despite everything life throws at you.

Happy Strawberry Moon, witches! 🌕🍓

Further Reading:

Bree's Lunar Calendar Series

Bree's Secular Celebrations Series

The Full Moon of June: A Special Solstice Full Moon, The Old Farmer's Almanac.

Strawberry Moon Meaning: The Spectacular Full Moon of June 2024, The Peculiar Brunette.

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison.

Image Source - Pesto and Margaritas

(If you're enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

#witchblr #witch community #lunar magic #full moon #strawberry moon #witchcraft #summer solstice #witch tips #moon magic #lunar calendar

390 notes · View notes

eqt-95 · 4 months

Note

A double whammy? I hope you don't mind, but I think you're up to it... ❤️💜

Lena was a woman of science, and anyone in that industry could tell you that external factors could interrupt normal behavior. Like heat.

It was summertime, and Lena did not do well in the heat. Her skin would burn, she’d melt with discomfort, and her brain would get muggier than the humidity. Sure, National City's heat was contributing, but it was nothing on the exposed arms and glimpses of midriff and polished abs her very best friend’s outfit had on display.

Lena stood with her popsicle melting under the summer sun and pretended not to stare like she was the thirstiest lesbian on the planet. Meanwhile, Kara debated between the keylime or the berry cream popsicle from the very patient vendor with Ruby and Esme weighing their own very serious choices.

“Careful, someone might catch you gawking,” Sam grinned, taking a swipe across her own raspberry-lemonade treat.

“I’m not gawking. I was… just…”

“Admiring? Observing? Panting?” Sam offered.

“What’d you get?” she continued, not waiting for Lena’s reply before crunching into the strawberry basil popsicle in Lena’s hand.

“Hey!” was her lame, muggy-brained response. A pout came next as she looked at the Sam-shaped teeth marks in her popsicle.

“Yum,” Sam mocked, chomping down on the icy treat and shooting Lena a mischievous smirk and an antagonistic wag of her own, unmarred popsicle.

Lena would blame it on her sufficiently over-baked patience later, but for the moment, a surge of irrational competitiveness overpowered normal social behavior which was why, without warning, her hand extended to grip Sam’s forearm and her mouth plunged downward, wrapping her lips fully around Sam’s popsicle and slurping upward.

Revenge was achieved. The world was balanced. Sam looked mutinous. Lena grinned, wiping a small dribble from her chin. Esme giggled from the popsicle cart. Then: “Aunt Kara is eating wood!”

Lena turned her attention to the trio. Ruby was smiling ludicrously while happily licking away at her orange treat. Esme had her little hands clutched around a purple one laughing with unhinged delight. And then there was Kara. Kara who was negotiating three and a half popsicles. Half because Kara’s mouth was clearly full. And chewing. And crunching - gnawing. And looking red faced. And uncomfortable. And like she might take flight any second.

“Kara?” Lena managed, ignoring the suggestive elbow from Sam. “Are you… are you eating the stick?”

Kara immediately shook her head; eyes watering, shifting awkwardly. Then, slowly, nodded when Lena’s brow arched in suspicion.

“You know you’re not supposed to do that, right?” Ruby inserted, casually twirling her own.

And Kara simply nodded again.

—

Lena was a woman of science, and anyone in that industry could tell you about how any hypothesis was established through extensive observation.

It was through regular observation that Lena knew all of Kara’s quirks and habits. It was why Lena was quick to notice a new habit appear. Kara squirmed. She squirmed and blushed and stammered more often than usual.

So Lena pushed the limits, checking in when Kara’s new traits showed up and, perhaps Lena was putting a little bit too much hope into it, but there seemed to be a correlation with, well, Lena.

But she needed more data. She was a woman of science after all, and anyone in that industry could tell you about the months and years it took to observe, test, and bring to market a new product.

That was where a range of experiments came in:

Experiment no. 1: Weekly Brunch

Constant: location (Noonan’s), time, day, and table

Variable: Lena wore a low cut dress

Results: Kara dripped egg yolk onto her pants, syrup onto the table, and dribbled orange juice down her chin and onto her shirt

Experiment no. 2: Compromising Situation #1, the elevator

Constant: location (L-Corp private lift), floor change

Variable: an IT cart was ‘accidentally’ parked in the cab, taking up 95% of the space and requiring Lena to press into Kara for the full 63-floor ride

Results: Kara’s work laptop screen was crushed between her fingers

Experiment no. 3: Game night

Constant: location (Alex + Kelly’s), time, day, company, food

Variable: wine; more specifically, wine location: top shelf, hard to reach without a little black ink revealed on Lena’s back.

Results: Alex called Kara out for floating

Experiment no. 4: Compromising Situation #2, Al’s

Constant: location (Al’s), time, day, and company

Variable: their usual table was ‘missing’ one chair, leaving a musical chair situation until Lena simply sat in Kara’s lap

Results: Kara didn’t speak the entire night

Experiment no. 5: Movie night

Constant: location (Lena’s apartment), time, day, company

Variable: chocolate covered strawberries

Results: invalid

Note: experiment considered an outlier and to be noted in future studies. Before Lena could follow through with her protocol, Kara lifted a strawberry to Lena’s lips who, taken aback, bit into the strawberry. Kara replied ‘good girl’, popped the rest into her own mouth, and Lena didn’t speak for the rest of the night

Experiment no. 6: Lunch date

Constant: location (L-Corp), food, time, company

Variable: Lena ordered the greasiest double-patty available

Results:

The experiment wasn’t going well, and even Lena Luthor’s patience had a limit for inconsistent data. That data was currently slurping her straw through the final dredges of an extra large milkshake from Big Belly Burger. That limit was when Kara Danvers stopped squirming and blushing and stuttering over Lena’s sultry, albeit ineffective, attempts at making a juicy burger look sexy.

The limit was crossed when, unaware of Lena’s greasy chin and flexing fingers and soft moan, Kara went and flipped the tables by turning Lena's anatomy into goop. How? It started when Kara dragged a finger over the cup’s inner wall and licked it clean with a demeanor that was making a different sort of mess.

Another set of underwear ruined by a Kryptonian. And not even in the way Lena dreamed it.

It was when Kara reached a second finger into the cup that Lena’s patience let out a small whimper which years of practice covered up with a tiny cough.

“Darling,” she choked, throat tighter than the forgotten straw on the coffee table. She stretched her lips into a smile and crossed her legs. Always crossed her legs.

“Hm?” Kara asked, two vanilla-covered fingers deep inside her mouth, tongue swirling with the practice of

“I think you've sufficiently polished your milkshake.”

And Kara, blessed Kara, stared longingly at the empty cup like a puppy who'd just been abandoned on a farm.

And Lena, cursed Lena, only then noticed the dribbles of milkshake left behind of Kara's lips and chin and now her tongue was-

“Right,” Lena said with a finality that included slapping her hands on her thighs, exhaling shakily, and standing with hopes that Kara couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary on her walk back to a desk of libido-killing work.

“Hey Lena?” Kara asked, and when Lena turned around, Kara was standing. Close. Like, directly-in-front-of-her close. Like, Lena-could-have-wavered-an-inch-and-collided-with-her close.

“K-Kara, what-?” she asked before taking a step back and pressing into her desk.

“You’ve got a little something-” Kara began, staring intently at Lena’s mouth.

“I-I do? Where-” Lena stammered. She lifted a hand to wipe at her mouth, only to feel it captured by a strong, warm, steady Kryptonian hand.

“I got it,” Kara offered instead, and before Lena could process air or space or time, Kara’s lips were on hers. They were on hers and sending shockwaves of surprise and confusion and arousal and - to hell with thinking. Instinct won out, and she returned the kiss, letting out the soft whimper she’d always concealed and leaned into the softness of Kara’s lips, and gave access when her tongue trailed along Lena’s lower lip.

“I don’t think you can call these outliers anymore,” Kara smirked minutes later.

And Lena, too breathless and stunned to play calm, cool, and collected, absolutely folded: “How did you-?”

“Sam,” Kara said simply before interrupting Lena’s outrage with another kiss.

“Well, you know what they say,” Lena offered, still breathless but less stunned, “twice is just a coincidence.”

“Care to make it a pattern then?”

“Absolutely.”

Lena was a woman of science, after all.

#thanks for the ask!#anon #and that's a wrap on the heart fics!#ask game #qs with quinn

202 notes · View notes

tbzhub · 2 months

Text

Money Shot

Pairing: photographer!Lee Hyunjae x afab!reader

Summary: a night in with your boyfriend turns into a photoshoot

Warnings: MDNI, smut, marking, fingering, unprotected sex, lots of photos are taken, pet names like twice

Rating / Genre: M, established relationship au, some fluff, smut

WC: 3.6K

Artist Note: this is a little part 2 to this fic: just go fuck him ♥︎ thank you for the love on that story, i'm sorry the title is so misleading alvjbhvxzgfn. i figured i'd revisit these two!

Tagged: @deoboyznet @everykebbie @blizzardfluffykpop

psst i finished it @the-boy-meets-evil

m.list tag list

It’s a wonder how much a person can change in a year or two.

These days your chest doesn't feel as tight. Your thoughts aren’t as intrusive and insecurity visits you infrequently. The smiles that grace your lips are genuine– often prompted by the joy that's found its way into the tight confines of your heart.

With each passing day, came a further understanding of what it meant to live. To experience the world with an abundance of love intertwined with your being.

Hyunjae wouldn’t agree, but he made all the difference. You are far more vibrant now; confident, social, witty. Being deeply in love brought out a version of yourself that was content and yet utterly fearless.

There’s peace, both in knowing someone has seen the harshest parts of you and that they still love you just the same.

Hyunjae gave you the space to be yourself– to show up however you were able to on any given day. With you, he was gentle and understanding in a way that’s reserved for people who care.

Dating him meant never having doubt– not when he made every day feel like a gift. It was easy to smile with him around. He was funny without trying and hilarious in times when laughter was needed most. His spontaneity took some getting used to, but only because you were a homebody. Now, you look forward to the days you spend with him, enamored by Hyunjae’s innate ability to make every moment memorable. He saw the world in a way that left you inspired. Through his photography, he taught you that beauty was found in the most unlikely places. Like at a run-down flea market during sunset, or while walking past a vacant flower stand on a late night– the florist long gone after an honest day’s work. Overexposed shots of your hair dancing in the wind as you slump in front of a fan, trying to survive in the summer heat.

He was always taking pictures of you. Initially– you hated it. You’d go shy or tense up when you saw him bring out a camera, on high alert when he brought out his phone. But over time, you appreciated it. Being his muse– being able to see yourself the way he saw you– helped you in areas that you hadn't realized needed assistance. Through your days in front of the lens, you've learned that you have a brilliant smile. That your hair harbored a different tone in the wake of a setting sun. Sometimes you’d catch yourself anticipating the camera on days when you knew you looked your best, growing confident as more time passed with him by your side.

Now, more than anything else– you both are beyond comfortable and obsessed with one another. Your ears perk up when you hear the bedroom door creak open and the way you immediately step out of the bathroom to greet Hyunjae with a face covered in skin care products proves the aforementioned sentiment.

Coming over to kiss him sweetly, you briefly melt into his firm arms and as you lean back you swipe your thumb over the gray dot of mud mask that sticks to his nose with a chuckle.

“Aww…” Hyunjae coos, taking in your spa headband and the little strip across your nose.

“No…” you groan, shielding your face away from him and his predictable nature.

“But you look so cute, right now.” He whines, peeking from behind the camera while his fingers hover over the button.

“No, I don’t. I look like the moon emoji” you mumble back.

“What do you mean? Hyunjae asks, looking at you with a clueless squint.

“You know, the one that’s like…” you give a side glance to look more like the little gray icon.

There’s a small flash of light as the shutter clicks and Hyunjae chuckles as he looks at the tiny screen while you stand stunned that he tricked you so easily. You playfully push him in response, causing him to laugh harder and you can’t help but join him, finding his antics funny.

You kiss him on the cheek before heading towards the bathroom.

“I’ll be right back.” You announce with your back turned. “Don’t miss me too much,” Hyujnae calls out absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the camera in his hands and you smile at the remark as you walk onto the cool tile floor.

You come back to him with a washed face and a silly smile embossed into your pretty features. Bounding onto the bed, you allow Hyunjae to tug you into his arms. He peppers you with kisses, lips smacking against yours a couple of times until he’s pulled a wide smile and a few giggles out of you.

“Wait– stay right there,” he says and you groan but your smile only grows wider.

“Don’t you get tired of taking pictures of me?” You ask, looking him over in amusement as you honor his instructions, holding your current angle. “Nope,” he replies, twisting in his spot to grab his polaroid camera. “Maybe when you have a hot girlfriend, you’ll understand.” He jokes, sending you a flirtatious look over the top of the camera while his finger turns the camera on with muscle memory.

Your laugh is accompanied by the roll of your eyes. Hyunjae presses the shutter and you ready yourself for the flash, relaxing thereafter as the camera goes to work.

The whirring of the film getting developed halts your joking, Hyunjae carefully plucks the film out and shakes it in his hand gently once it pops out of the top of the camera.

Falling further into the comfort of his pillows, you smile up at Hyunjae, observing the way he looks at the picture. His eyes were soft as he swept over the image, the arches of his cheeks raising slowly as a smile blossomed on his lips. For whatever reason the sight struck a chord within you.

“You really think I’m beautiful, don't you?” You voice the thought without realizing it, not until Hyunjae’s gaze shifts to you and you're taking in the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t say anything else and you didn't need him to. Not when he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists in the world. The only thing worth gazing upon. His hand trails its way into your hair and you look into the lens again, relaxing under Hyunjae’s touch as the shutter clicks again. You shift slightly on the bed as Hyunjae inspects the second polaroid the same way as he did the first. He puts the two pictures on the nightstand for safekeeping before leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

With your arms looped around Hyunjae’s neck, you steal more kisses off his lips until he drops the camera onto the bed and climbs on top of you. The kiss deepens as one of his hands roams down to grab at your waist and pulls your body closer to his while he props himself up to keep from crushing you with the other. He lingers on your lips, pressure changing from soft and teasing to hard and wanting once you wrap your leg around his hip.

You stay like that long enough for your heart to mimic the rapid thud of Hyunjae’s heart rate.

When Hyunjae pulls away from the kiss you’re left wanting more, grabbing at his shirt in an attempt to bring him back but you stop when you notice what he’s doing.

He hovers above you with a polaroid camera in hand. “Just one more. Your lips look perfect,’ he murmurs as he lines up the shot and you lick your kiss bruised lips before giving bedroom eyes to Hyunjae through the lens. You hear the sound of the camera going off and the flash follows before the whirring begins. You watch patiently as he studies the picture with a smirk on his lips. His hand moves smoothly up and down your bare thigh as his gaze flits across the film.

It was hot seeing him like this, so obviously turned by what he’s doing– by you.

His hand comes up to caress your neck before falling lower, squeezing your chest over the thin fabric of your tank top and you pick up on how he bites his lip before finally tearing his eyes away and placing the picture to the side with the others.

“Wanna take more?” You ask, gingerly tiptoeing into uncharted territory. “I mean… I’d be down?” You suggest lightly while looking up at Hyunjae’s face. His expressions bounce between confusion and surprise before settling on mirth and something else indescribable.

“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation, his voice suddenly low and velvety.

As you nod your head yes, you wrap your fingers around Hyunjae’s wrist and guide his hand down to rest at the hem of your top.

His hand scrunches up the fabric, exposing most of your stomach as he dips down low to meld his mouth with yours hotly. He kisses you slowly, taking his time with you in a way that you’ve never experienced with him before. His hand slides up further, delicately cupping your chest as he sighs against your lips. The sharp sting of Hyunjae’s fingers digging into your skin sends a shock to your center and your lips part in a soft moan in response. His tongue brushes against the tip of yours tenderly as your skin pebbles under his touch.

The kiss remains slow as he savors every last second of having you like this, nibbling on your lower lip before sucking the tender spot and kissing you hungrily. You lay slack underneath him, body and mind being led by the pleasure he pours into you with his sinful lips.

Your back arches as he lifts your tank top up further, pulling the garment over your shoulders. Hyunjae’s hands fall onto either side of your cheeks, holding your face in place as he presses his lips onto yours firmly and warmth floods your chest. His hands travel down your neck and sweep across your shoulders as he drags his lips along your jawline. He continues his descent until he reaches a particular spot on your neck that makes you bite back a loud whimper. He sucks the sensitive area while you squirm underneath him with your eyes half closed. You shake out a soft moan, bliss surging up your spine as he moves to another spot on your neck.

He sucks mark after mark into your skin until you're nearly trembling and soaking wet with need. Your shoulders and neck are covered in splotches of deep reddish and purple hues that you can’t fully see but the look on Hyunjae’s face as he leans back tells you that look to die for. He drinks you in with a lust-clouded gaze, looking you up and down a few times before reaching out for his camera.

“Fuck– you look perfect like this…” he praises, voice imbued in admiration and want. He lines up the shot, standing on his knees above you and you can see just how much he’s into this.

You reply with a moan and glance up, giving the camera a heated look before the camera flashes. His hand comes into the next shot as he wraps his fingers around your slender neck. You catch his dick twitching in his sweats as he takes a second picture with you posed like this. Hyunjae doesn't wait for the film to come out before casting the camera to the side. He yanks at your shorts and underwear, pulling them off of you quickly with your help. You spread your legs wide for him while he works his way out of his clothes. He’s back on you hot and heavy the minute his cock is free, settling between your legs as he devours you with an intense gaze, tracing your form lustfully.

“Eyes on me, okay?” He orders softly, smoothing a hand over your bent knee lovingly as the other snakes its way up your thigh, leaving behind a sweltering tingle that lingers on your skin.

His fingers sink into your wet heat and a sultry moan rings through his bedroom. Hyunjae rocks his palm back and forth, two fingers curled upwards against the soft walls of your pussy. You coat the digits, eliciting the sloppiest noises that you’ve ever heard from your wet cunt but you couldn’t be bothered to be ashamed about that in the wake of what he’d just put your neck and shoulders through.

He picks up the pace and your legs fall open further as a long sigh leaves your chest. You obediently keep your eyes open, trained on Hyunjae while he works you over. The look you share is a charged one as he fucks you with his fingers, his determined gaze contrasting your unbridled blissed-out state. Your swollen lips part as you pant his name, pleading for him not to stop.

Hyunjae blindly grabs ahold of his camera, never stopping the steady rhythm of his deft fingers urging you dangerously close to an orgasm. Your toes curl and your legs tremble as he readies the camera. He lifts it until he’s got the right angle. His biceps strain and sweat trickles down his arms as he pumps his digits in and out of you while rubbing your bud rhythmically. His arm is getting tired but he waits… and waits, finger resting just above the shutter as he waits for the right moment. The one where your face scrunches up and your pussy tries to choke his fingers. He fingers you with just the right amount of pressure to grow the feeling inside you until it bursts–

The shutter goes off and a flash brightens the room.

You toss and turn as you cum all over Hyunjae’s fingers, moaning loudly as he fucks you through it. Gradually his pace slows just enough to gently bring you down from your peak. His fingers slip out of your sloppy folds and he licks them clean without a second thought before retrieving the polaroid from its slot.

You shiver through the aftershocks of your high while you come down further. “How’d it turn out?” You ask, still breathless. Hyunjae looks over to you with dark eyes and you swallow under the passion in his gaze.

“Unreal,” he replies through a husky tone before setting that picture down beside the others. He climbs back on top of you, kissing you repeatedly as he lays his warm body flush with yours. Your legs tangle with his while you make out and your dainty hands mess up his hair as you roll on top of him in bed. You straddle his hips in haste, desperate to ride him but he clamps his strong hands around your waist freezing you in place.

“There's a shot that I want to get,” he hesitantly admits.

You look down at him with an endeared smile. You knew him well enough to know what he wanted. He always say you look so pretty sucking him off. “Okay, baby,” you say, shuffling down the bed until your lips are inches away from his cock.

Hyunjae groans, tilting his head back into the pillows as you take him past your lips. You don’t tease, dipping your head forward to ease more of his cock into your mouth while your tongue glides down his length. Your lips tighten around him, sucking in on your way up and swallowing around the head before gliding down again.

“Fuck–

You grind your nose into his pelvis when he reaches the back of your throat and you feel him squirm in bed. You let up again, going slow as you cover his entire cock in your spit. Hyunjae fists the bedsheets and hisses at the sight of you– his cock, dripping with the attention that you’ve lavished it with, tucked between your plush dewy lips. You sink his cock into your mouth again, moaning as you sense him preparing to snap another picture of you.

Your eyes begin to water as you take him to the back of your throat a few more times, looking up at Hyunjae just in time to hear the shutter go off again. You close your eyes and hum, sending another shiver of vibrations down his cock as he tries to check out the picture.

All you hear is shallow gasps for a while as Hyunjae holds the polaroid up to his face, coaxing you up and down his length with his other hand.

“This one is golden,” he rasps, voice ragged and thick with pleasure as he bobs you up and down his cock for a bit longer, entranced by how sexy your eyes look in the picture. You suck harder, swirling your tongue around before Hyunjae gently pulls you off of him by your hair.

“Let me see?” You ask, sitting up and straddling his lap as he places that picture to join the rest.

He just shakes his head. “We have to round out the set first,” Hyunjae teases, hands going to rest at your hips as he lines you up with his stiff cock. Placing your hands behind you on his toned thighs as you lift your hips, angling them to catch his cock between your wet folds before you lower yourself onto him. You sit on his cock in one fluid motion and sigh. He feels so good– the sweet slide against your walls as you’re filled making your head spin. You rock forward, leaning back against your arms for leverage while you rock back, savoring his thick cock pressed against you. You raise your hips and drop back down, moaning at the feel of his cock teasing your needy cunt.

You circle your hips while you bounce in his lap, slamming your hips down harder with every motion. Your head tilts back as you ride him, so satisfied yet so greedy for more, hips beginning to roll faster. Hyunjae tightens his hold on you before matching your thrusts, sending his cock as deep as possible causing you to cry out in abandon. You bounce faster, breathing ragged as you start to work up a sweat, a sheen covering your stomach and thighs. Your skin slaps against Hyunjae’s as you move in sync, connected as one as your bodies heat up.

His fingertips press into your skin, as he takes control, lifting you up and down with only the strength in his arms. Hyunjae fucks you nice and slow, dropping you down on his cock and sliding you off so you feel every inch of him leave your insides.

“Fuck Jae,” you moan, core aching for release just when he’s decided to slow things down.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You look so good like this. I don’t wanna rush,” he whispers, licking his bottom lip as he looks up at you– still dragging you up and down his cock like you weighed practically nothing.

He doesn’t forget the camera, reaching for it with one hand while you take over once more. You slide down nice and slow before raising your hips, pausing at the top when he tells you to.

“You look fucking incredible, baby.” He says as he takes the last shot.

The shutter clicks and you carefully push the camera out of Hyunjae’s hands, feverishly crashing your lips into his a second later. He immediately falls in line, kissing you and giving you exactly what you’ve been waiting for. His arms circle your back as he holds you close and pounds into you.

You gasp and writhe, taking all that Hyunjae gives you as your thighs give out.

Pleasure and fatigue build, and build within you, threatening to overflow as he continues his onslaught on your pussy. He snaps his hips into you with unprecedented strength, and thrusts rough and careless, eliciting nothing but filthy sounds out of you.

His pace picks up, strokes falling out of rhythm as he chases his climax.

The steady push and pull of his cock filling you up crowds your senses. Your mind goes hazy as you focus on how good Hyunjae makes you feel every time. Pushing your body to places that you didn’t think it could go. You clench around him as another huge orgasm shuts down your body.

When you finally come to your senses, you notice that you're sore and covered in sweat. You feel kind of gross, but there's nothing that could make you abandon your place on Hyunjae’s chest right now.

You’re so tired that when you try to speak, your words come out as syllables abstractly strung together. The last thing you’re aware of is Hyunjae’s cool lips pressed against your forehead as you drift off to sleep.

In the morning, you wake up sore. The marks that litter your neck and shoulders are a little tender and you feel like you did 200 sit-ups and 300 squats right before bed.

Hyunjae wasn't around, but you weren’t surprised by that– he never missed catching the sunrise at dawn.

As you sit up in bed, the stack of polaroids from last night catches your eye and you leap out of bed to sift through them all. The first photo is so innocent that you chuckle, knowing where the night led you. You glance through the rest, cheeks heating up at how bold you are in front of the camera.

You flip to the last picture in the stack and can’t help but swoon. You set the stack down, covering the unfiltered pictures with the one of Hyunjae kissing you on your forehead while you were fast asleep.

#kvanity #lee hyunjae imagines #lee hyunjae #lee hyunjae x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz smut #lee hyunjae fic #lee hyunjae smut #the boyz imagines #tbz smut #tbz x reader #tbz drabbles #tbz imagines #tbz hyunjae #hyunjae smut

168 notes · View notes

somanyratsinthewalls · 4 months

Note

Congratulations on 700!! May I request Magenta Rooster? Our lovely Corazon is so clumsy to begin with and I really wanna see how clumsy he can get during drunk/high sex (I'd love to see him high af tbh) some fluffy smut would just be 🤌🏼 chefs kiss

When I read this request from @firefistussy I screamed because it's the cutest thing I've ever heard in my life. As a stoner who loves dorks and high sex, this was the perfect set up.

Under The Influence (18+)

Pairing: Corazon x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Drunk/High Sex

WC: 2000

Warnings: I wrote this high on 20mg of edibles (I felt it was appropriate for this occasion, but sorry babes if it sucks ass) high sex, marijuana usage and mention, p in v sex, unprotected sex, OKAY JUST LIKE A BRIEF SECOND OF BUTT TO V BUT DONT DO THAT, ITS FUNNY FOR THE PLOT, fingering, creampie, breeding, clumsy idiot cora, awkward sex, cute cora tho.

— —

It was a hell of a day.

From sun up you had been busy with paperwork and handling purchase orders for the Don Quixote family. You hated being associated with such an infamous family, but they always paid your salary on time and that was what mattered. Being a member of a notorious pirate family came with another perk… you never had to worry about running out of weed. The Don Quixote family was dealing in markets much darker than marijuana, so they had no problem keeping your supply full.

All you wanted was a hot shower and to lay up on your couch with an obscenely large joint. And so, you made plans to do that after retiring to your quarters for the day. You rolled yourself the perfect marijuana cigarette and set it down on your pink mirrored tray (a “gift” from your boss) next to the lighter. Next, you stripped yourself of your sweaty clothes and started the shower.

Once hot enough, you stepped through the foggy glass door and submerged yourself under the water. You let out a long sigh as the hot water soothed your tired body. You take the time to tenderly massage your scalp while you shampoo and condition your hair. Once the products were rinsed out, you lathered your body in the sweet vanilla scented body wash that the men around you always commented on.

After your shower, you hopped out and dried off before you wrapped yourself in a short, black terrycloth robe. You towel off your hair and return to your bedroom where you flopped onto your loveseat and grabbed the lighter. You bring the joint to your lips and light it carefully so that it burned evenly.

You throw your head back against your velvet throw pillow as the first clouds of smoke hit your lungs. You kick your feet up entirely so that you can recline on the couch as you continue to smoke. You weren’t sure how many minutes had gone by before you heard a gentle knock on your door.

*tap tap*

“Come in…” You shout as you exhale smoke.

The door opens but you don’t turn around.

*thunk*

“Shit-“

You hear the lamp on your end table rattle.

“How did you know I was up, Rosi?” You smile and take another hit off your joint, knowing exactly who it was without sitting up and turning your head.

“The whole place can smell that you’re up. You’re not exactly discrete.” Corazon says with a smirk as he walks towards the couch.

“I wasn’t trying to be.” You grin and tilt your head back on the pillow so you were looking up at his imposing figure upside down. You hold the joint straight up so that it was near Corazon’s face. “Come take a hit?” You asked.

Corazon shook his head but didn’t back away.

“I shouldn’t. I’m still on the clock.”

“You’re always on the clock… with that monstrous brother of yours… come on, a few puffs won’t hurt.” You coo as you wiggle the marijuana closer to him. Corazon sighs before plucking the joint from your fingers.

“You know I can’t say no to you…” He huffs as he sits opposite your reclining form on the loveseat. His large stature requires you to put your legs up and crossed on the back of the couch to make room for him, your robe riding up your nude thighs a bit. Corazon catches himself ogling your exposed skin and adjusts his gaze. He takes a long drag from your joint and you raise your eyebrows expectantly.

He starts coughing immediately, violently.

“Gods, Rosi take a drink.” You giggle as you hand him your glass of wine. He chugs several sips and then catches his breath.

“It’s been awhile…” Corazon chuckles and tries to cover for his inexperience.

“You’re so cute. Just shotgun it from me.” You smile and take the joint from his large, outstretched hand. His huge fingers made it look comically small.

“Just… what…?” Corazon looks up at you with his brows furrowed.

You laugh again and sit up to cross your legs in front of you on the couch facing the blonde man.

“I’ll smoke, and blow it in your mouth. It’s less harsh for you that way. Come here.” You say as you straighten up and beckon him closer.

Corazon looks nervous as he leans closer to your much smaller frame.

You suck in a large hit and reach out to grab the back of his head and gently pull his mouth to yours. You breath the smoke out slowly into his open mouth, lips just barely ghosting each others. Corazon inhales the smoke and breathes it out much easier this time.

He pulls back and smiles down at you.

“That was better…” He laughs.

“I liked it too… come here.” You whisper as you take another long drag. You pull Rosinante by his hair back to your lips, pressing them together lightly this time before exhaling the intoxicating smoke.

“If I was speculating… I’d say you were trying to get me high, Miss y/n.” Corazon says as he breathes out another cloud of smoke in your face.

“Hmmm and what would be so bad about that?” You muse as you prepare to give him another hit. You deliver the thick smoke straight to his lungs while darting out your tongue to swipe across his bottom lip, teasingly. “Afraid you might not be able to resist your subordinate with your guard down?” You whisper into his lips. You unfurl your legs and rest them on either side of Corazon’s body.

Corazon blows out his smoke. He shifts his body so he’s hovering over you.

“Who says I’m resisting?” Corazon smirks.

“Kiss me, Rosi.” You softly plead in your dazed state. You drop the almost finished joint in the ashtray beside you.

Wordlessly, Corazon presses his lips firmly onto yours as he cups your cheek gently with one hand, the difference in pressure sent your mind swimming. He tasted like both tobacco and marijuana. He slid his tongue past your lips to explore the rest of your mouth sensually. You sighed in approval and he slipped his hand up your bare thigh to rest at the juncture of your leg and body, squeezing your flesh teasingly.

You buck your hips with need.

“What do you want, y/n?” Your massive blonde lover asks you.

“Touch me…” You say quietly as you spread your legs fully beneath him.

“As you wish…” Corazon whispers as he moves his hand from your hip bone to swipe two fingers down your slit and back up, wetness from your hole coating his large digits. He circles your clit gently, and you whimper, the marijuana heightening every sensation.

“M-more, Rosi.. w-want to feel you inside…” You plead as he teases your clit with soft pets.

“You know how I feel about saying no to you…” Corazon smiles before plunging those two fingers into your quivering hole, a deep groan leaving you as he crooks them upwards immediately into your favorite spot.

“Shit.. yes… just like that…” You say as you grip the blonde locks at the back of his head, bringing his head closer to your chest. Corazon uses his other hand to rip your robe open as he balances carefully on his knees, he then delves into your right breast with an eager mouth. He suckles desperately at your erect nipple as you melt into his touch.

“Just a little more, yes, fuck Rosi!” You thrust your hips up into his palm so that it would rub against your clit while the pads of his fingers hammer into your g-spot. “Shit, right there… I’m gonna cum, fuck!” You pull harshly on Corazon’s hair as you see stars and gush all over his large hand.

You breath heavily and loosen your grip on the back of Corazon’s scalp. You sooth over the patch that you pulled on with soft strokes of your hand.

“Good, love?” Rosinante pulls away from you and asks.

“Yes, just take me to bed now, please.” You demand with a wicked grin.

Without needing another verbal reminder of how he’d always tell you yes, Corazon picks you up in his strong arms and carries you to the bed.

“Fuck-“ Corazon huffs as he trips over your discarded high heels and flops the both of you onto your purple comforter unceremonious.

You can’t help but giggle up at him, shocked he’d survived this long on earth with how clumsy he is. Choosing to ignore his misstep, Corazon attacks your neck with nips and bites, sending you immediately back into the mood. Your head was still so fuzzy from the weed and now the orgasm, that you shivered under his rough kisses.

“Turn around for me, baby.” Corazon whispers into your skin.

You gladly obliged and sluggishly toss your robe off and position yourself on your hands and knees on the bed. It took far longer than it should, due to your inebriated state, but it gave Corazon the time to strip himself of his own shirt and pants. He comes up behind you wearing nothing but his pink love-heart printed boxer shorts. Swiftly, he tugs down his underwear and lets his painfully erect cock spring free and prod at your soft skin. Corazon’s head was swimming with intoxication and arousal as he smoothed one large hand over your spine and nudged the head of his cock into you with the other.

“Fuck me, Rosinante…” You coo as you push you ass back into him.

“Yes, mama… Anything you want…” Corazon pushes his hard member into you and sinks about two inches in before you yelp and push your hands back against his abs.

“Cora! Wrong fucking hole!” You grit out as you whip your head around at him.

“Gods! Sorry! Fuck!” Corazon jumps back in surprise and pulls himself out of your ass, even though he had just dipped his tip in.

“Lower!” You hiss out.

“Right, shit, sorry baby…” Cora grips his hard cock and shifts it lower and finds your drooling hole without any more difficulty.

“Yesssss…” You moan out as Corazon bottoms out inside your wet walls.

“Fuuuuck…” Corazon groans as he begins to thrust his hips against yours, lost in the feeling of your pussy sucking him in.

“Harder! Fuck, Rosi, harder!” You yell as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Anything for you… OOF-“ Rosinante grunts as he loses his balance on top of you and ends up pinning you to the mattress on your stomach, slipping out of you in the process.

Frustrated, you groan.

“Get on your fucking back.” You push him by the shoulders and flip his body over. You straddle his waist and align his weeping cock up with your clenching hole.

“Please give it to me, mama…” Corazon whines at you.

It was such a beautiful sight, high out of his mind, drooling on himself trying his best not to slam his hips up into you. You oblige and sink yourself down on his massive cock. You grin stupidly as your pelvis reaches his, his public bone tickling your clit.

You brace your hands on Corazon’s massive torso as you begin to grind yourself back and forth on top of him, making sure his length was rubbing against your g-spot with every movement. You couldn’t help but moan as you begin to get closer and closer to your second peak of the evening. You grunt like an animal as you grind yourself to the edge of another orgasm.

“I can feel you getting close…” Corazon whispers out as he grips your ass with one hand and wraps the other gently around your throat. “I’m close too… want you to cum so you can milk me dry, baby… just let go… use me…”

With those filthy words you finally snap and release all over Corazon’s thighs and abdomen.

“Fuck!” You cry out and throw your head back.

“There it is, stay there and take all of it…” Corazon grips you by your shoulders and pushes you impossibly far down on his cock, causing you to whine at how it pushes against your cervix.

“So… full…” You sigh as you collapse into Corazon’s shoulder.

You can hear laughter rumble from your lover’s chest.

“I’m tired, too.” Corazon says. “Best we go to sleep before we raid the kitchen.”

You immediately pick your head up from the crook of his neck.

“Oooh, kitchen?” Your eyebrows raise.

Corazon rolls his eyes.

“I’ll fix you a snack.”

— —

Hope you enjoyed!

Xx Mo

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece anime #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #one piece smut #corazon #donquixote rosinante #rosinante corazon #one piece rosinante #rosinante x reader #op rosinante #op corazon

121 notes · View notes

rustytrident · 2 years

Text

beelzebub who has obscure knowledge because he cares so much about his brothers' interests, they become his, too – or, a slight beelzebub character study at 3am because i need it and so do you.

beelzebub who can name every constellation in the night sky of all three realms, who knows both astrology and astronomy, who has read all of belphie's essays and research papers, who was there when they were written.

beelzebub who knows how to play (and cheat, and win) about every casino game, who knows how to do fast math even if he doesn't really care for it, who checks the fucking stock market every morning to see if mammon's mood will be affected by it or not.

beelzebub who knows the difference between the scent of white and red roses, who knows how to properly do your (and his) makeup, who has memorised which products are good for his complexion and how many times a day he needs to apply sunscreen, because asmo swears that the fridge light hits him as much as the sun would have in the human world.

beelzebub who can quote jane austen and poe and shakespeare and euripides from memory, who makes references from books that were destroyed with the library of alexandria, who knows about every breed of cat there is, who listens to satan explain whose fur is the thickest and whose the softest.

beelzebub who will rewatch tsl for hours, who will carry boxes upon boxes of games upstairs, who will (poorly) draw ruri from memory, who will know how to play most games levi hyperfixates on and the plot from most anime he has rambled about.

beelzebub who knows even the most bizzare of genres of music, who can taste the difference between a thousand year and a thousand and one year aged demonus, who immediately recognises the jazz song lucifer is playing when he wants to spend quality time with him but doesn't want to disturb him.

beelzebub who, if you ask him about his interests, will reply that he doesn't really have any, who will search within him for an ounce of self, who will give up after a while because he is six beings in one, and he doesn't know if there's room for one more.

beelzebub who decides that it's okay to be a mosaic of his favourite beings, who finds out that he has been carrying seven in him all along, who gazes in your – a human's – eyes and understands why she fought and why she fell and why she tried so much.

beelzebub who, in his spare time, will go in the human world to visit museums and archaeological sites and long abandoned villages, who will reminisce about when everything he just saw was once new and shining, who will retrace the steps he took aeons ago, alone this time.

beelzebub who often feels lost, who grieves and eats and grieves some more, who carries the memory of his sister because he once read that one truly stops existing when they are forgotten, yet smiles when he sees red roses and shiny coins and old books and video games and cursed records and the starry sky, who sighs into your neck right before he falls asleep and promises to never forget the way your skin feels under his.

beelzebub who, without you asking him, tells you he likes flowers and animals, who likes everything the sun touches, whose eyes glimmer when you ask him to tell you about yarrows and their meaning and their colours, who will explain in a heartbeat, just for you.

beelzebub whose self is a wounded one, a fighting one, whose self is a memory box he just keeps adding into, a scrapbook of eternity's erosion, who finds happiness in the little things, in the simple things, who binds his family together.

beelzebub who loved and loves and will love until there's nothing of him left, until he is the last one remembering, until the night sky is no longer a painting, but just an accumulation dead stars.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #beelzebub obey me #beelzebub x reader #i feel like he has so much depth #and if he doesn't he does in my head #some people only view him as the nom nom himbo but good lord #i beg to differ #finally being able to let out the 2 year beel brainrot to real humans and not the voices in my head is fantastic #i hope this wasn't too messy #sing me a song // the song of our glory

2K notes · View notes

chemicalresearchupdates · 1 year

Text

After Sun Products Market CAGR Status, Emerging Trends and Forecast till 2030

After-sun products are specialized skincare products designed to provide relief and hydration to the skin after exposure to the sun. These products are commonly used to soothe sunburns, reduce redness and inflammation, and restore the skin's natural moisture barrier. The after-sun products market has seen significant growth in recent years, driven by the increasing awareness of the harmful effects of sun exposure and the growing demand for skincare products.

Market Size and Growth

The global after-sun products market size was valued at USD 1.1 billion in 2020 and is expected to grow at a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 6.7% from 2021 to 2028. The growth of the market is driven by the increasing demand for after-sun products, particularly in regions with high levels of sun exposure.

Product Types

The after-sun products market is segmented into several product types, including:

Gel: After-sun gel is a popular product type that is designed to quickly absorb into the skin, providing a cooling and soothing effect.

Lotion: After-sun lotion is a thicker product that is designed to provide long-lasting hydration to the skin.

Cream: After-sun cream is a heavy-duty product that is designed to deeply moisturize and repair damaged skin.

Spray: After-sun spray is a convenient product that can be applied directly to the skin, providing a quick and easy way to hydrate and soothe the skin.

End-Use Industries

The after-sun products market is segmented into several end-use industries, including:

Retail: After-sun products are commonly sold through retail channels such as drugstores, supermarkets, and online retailers.

Professional: After-sun products are also used by professionals such as dermatologists and aestheticians as part of their skincare treatments.

Regional Analysis

The after-sun products market is segmented into several regions, including North America, Europe, Asia-Pacific, Middle East and Africa, and South America.

North America: The after-sun products market in North America is driven by the increasing awareness of the harmful effects of sun exposure and the growing demand for skincare products.

Europe: The European after-sun products market is driven by the popularity of beach vacations and the growing demand for natural and organic skincare products.

Asia-Pacific: The Asia-Pacific after-sun products market is expected to grow at the highest CAGR over the forecast period due to the increasing awareness of the harmful effects of sun exposure and the growing demand for skincare products in countries such as China and India.

Key Players

The key players operating in the after-sun products market include Johnson & Johnson, L'Oréal S.A., Beiersdorf AG, Unilever, and Estée Lauder Companies Inc.

Regulatory Framework

The use of after-sun products is subject to various regulations in different countries, particularly regarding the labeling and advertising of these products. In the United States, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) regulates the labeling and advertising of after-sun products through various regulations such as the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act. In the European Union, after-sun products are regulated under the Cosmetic Products Regulation.

Conclusion

The global after-sun products market is expected to grow at a significant rate over the forecast period due to the increasing awareness of the harmful effects of sun exposure and the growing demand for skincare products. However, the market is subject to various regulations, particularly regarding the labeling and advertising of these products, which may constrain the growth of the market in the coming years. The increasing demand for natural and organic skincare products is also expected to drive the growth of the market in the future.

#After Sun Products Market #After Sun Products Market Growth #After Sun Products Market Trends

0 notes

themidnightcrimson · 1 year

Text

tinseltown ࿏ wm

summary: in which you are drawn to an old movie theater playing an 80s sitcom called wandavision.

words: 4.8K

warnings: fear, horror, manipulation, mind control, oh how i wish this happened to me, no smut surprisingly, straight outta goosebumps episode

this post should be read with discretion.

masterlist.

It was almost summer.

The last cool breezes of spring strung their chilly tendrils throughout the air, desperate to hold on, desperate to provide relief before the blazing sun and suffocating humidity took its hold over the town. When the sun went down, spring was back in full swing again, offering its comfortable air and soft winds that refreshed your lungs as you walked downtown.

The night was quiet and desolate. There weren’t many people on the streets, though usually the streets are still crowded even in that late hour of the night. You passed by shops and markets who kept their lights on though they were closed. You peered into the window of a drugstore as you passed, seeing the eerie stillness of the empty store as its lights flickered over the rows of products, no clerks standing at the counters.

Even the roads were relatively empty save for the occasional passing car that drove smoothly down the road, as if relaxed to be free from the usual traffic that prevented the driver from soaking in the beauty of the historic downtown of your city. When a car was not passing, the only evidence of the town being alive was the interval change of the redlights going from red to green, to yellow, then back to red again as its adjacent constituent followed the same pattern.

You stuffed your hands into your pockets as you walked. Recently, you have been suffering bouts of insomnia. You wake in your bed in the middle of the night, sweating, restless, panting, desperate to break out of your apartment and get out into the fresh air. It had become a routine. You try to go to sleep early, wake up in the middle of the night, and find your apartment lacking oxygen, throwing on the nearest pair of shoes and proper clothes you can find before heading out to walk the streets.

Tonight, you were extra antsy and reluctant to go back home. Usually, you walked around the corner of your apartment building and up six blocks until you passed the drugstore. You would cross the street, an easy feat due to the empty roads, and walk back down the six blocks, cross the street again, and turn the corner to your apartment to head back inside. Usually, you feel relaxed enough after that to go to sleep for the remainder of the night. Tonight, you didn’t cross the street. You kept going after the sixth block, after you passed the drugstore.

Hearing no car around, you didn’t bother waiting for the crosswalk to signal for you to walk. You stepped right onto the row of lines and crossed the street, until suddenly headlights were flashing into your eyes and a loud honk made you jump and freeze.

“Hey!” someone yelled, and you turned your face to see that a car’s bumper was inches away from your knees, the yellow headlights blaring into your face and blinding you from seeing the driver who was sticking his head out of the window and yelling at you.

“Sorry,” you murmured and skipped out of the way to the other side of the street. Once your feet hit the sidewalk again, you turned to watch the car zoom past the greenlight angrily. You hadn’t even seen the car coming.

Wiping your face that was hot now from the adrenaline of nearly getting hit by a car, you stuffed your hands back into your pockets and kept walking, now feeling much farther from being able to relax and sleep.

You needed to go back to your apartment, as much as you hated to. You were obviously getting delirious from lack of sleep and were going to get yourself killed—you hadn’t even seen a car driving towards you as you crossed the street. Even if it meant just sitting up all night on the couch watching TV, you would be safe back home and not endanger yourself or others.

So, after the next block, you turned the corner and decided to walk down the other street. It would put you farther from your apartment, meaning you would have to cross two blocks to get back, but you didn’t mind. Maybe a change of scenery would intrigue you enough to soothe your racing mind. You noticed that this side of the block was darker than the other side. The shop owners did not leave their lights on, as the other block did. Every building and store was entirely dark, and the only thing that lit your path was the orange flickering streetlights and the full moon hanging above the sky like an animated sticker.

As you realized that there was no chance of you getting sleepy enough to go back to sleep, you noticed something sparkling down the block, too far away for you to see what it was, but close enough for you to see green and purple lights and the dazzling white sign in cursive letters you could not read from so far away.

“Huh,” you murmured to yourself, casting a glance around the block and seeing not a soul in sight. You found it odd that there was only one building not cast in total darkness, thinking that maybe it was some nightclub. It was a bad part of town to put a nightclub, since it was so empty here tonight, and you wondered if it was just recently established. You had never seen it before, though you have only walked this side of the block a few times since living in the city. There wasn’t much on this end except pawn shops and electronics repair and bail bonds and a dingy fitness gym.

As you walked on the other side of the street and came closer to the dazzling building, you could finally read the big sign across the front.

Tinseltown.

A movie theater, you realized—one that stayed open all night, apparently. How had you never known that you lived a few blocks away from a movie theater? You didn’t recall ever seeing it on the maps, nor hearing people speak of it, nor noticing it on your occasional walks through this street.

As you came closer and saw the retro way in which it was built, the cinema signs looking like they were straight out of the 90’s or 2000’s, you couldn’t convince yourself that this theater was so recently built, unless its purpose was to look old-school and vintage. It looked like the kinds of movie theaters that your parents might have taken to you when you were only a small child.

You stopped walking as you stood face-to-face with the theater across the street. There was still nobody around, not even the pigeons that usually pecked at the day’s crumbs on the sidewalk. The street was entirely lifeless, except for this movie theater whose LED stars sparkled and blinked invitingly.

Maybe a movie would calm your nerves—it looked open, besides the fact that there was no one around going in or out. Maybe sitting in a dark theater would soothe your nerves, get you sleepy enough to go home and finally sleep. Something was drawing it towards you—the bright lights, the buzzing noise of the electronics of its face, the bright purples and greens of its temple.

Why the hell not? You couldn’t remember the last time you had went to a movie theater, anyway. And this theater seemed to you like a little hidden gem in the neighborhood just waiting to be picked.

This time, you looked both ways before crossing the street. As you came near, you noticed that the breeze picked up, sending chills up your spine. You clutched your jacket closer to you and came towards the wide front doors, your hand touching the cold metal handle—was it buzzing under your palm? You pulled, and the door swung open with a squeak.

You stepped into the warm theater and found that the first room was the ticket center, booths lined up along the wall with two sets of doors on either end. You stepped up to the glass, pressed your nose close to the speaking hole and looked around.

There wasn’t a single worker in the booths. There were no noises besides the whooshing sound of old central air conditioning coming through the dusty vents. “Hello?” you called, wondering if someone would come through the back.

Not a sound, not a soul.

Maybe the workers were further inside, you thought. Maybe the theater was brand new and still understaffed, so they sold tickets inside where you could get concessions simultaneously, reducing the effort of labor.

You pushed through the swinging doors and stepped into a much larger, well-lit room. The ceilings, floors, and walls were painted deep scarlet with golden designs. A large counter stood at the front of the room, a menu hanging on the wall. You could smell popcorn and looked to see a large golden popcorn machine behind the counter, humming as it popped fluffy kernels into the vessel below. You saw hot dogs roasting on a rotating spit. You saw rows of candies and drinks, and even an icee machine that hummed with life. The sounds and sights and smells of it all soothed you deeply, but still, you saw no one.

“Hello?!” you called more loudly, coming up to the counter and peering past it. “Um,” you began, “I’m here to see a movie.” You looked at the popcorn machine and the buttery, golden fluffs, your mouth watering. “And maybe get some popcorn.”

Is this place even open? Surely it would be, since it was unlocked and lit up and had the machines going.

Then, you heard a noise coming from deeper in the building. Your eyes turned towards the noise—a wide hallway to the right. You heard the distant sounds of people talking, of laughter. Your stomach, which had started to knot, soothed as you felt relief at the evidence of people. Maybe the graveyard shift was still a little unexperienced and expected no one to come in this late at night and were all huddled somewhere down the hallway in a break room.

Your feet led you toward the hallway, hesitantly leaving the delightful smell of the popcorn and candy. You came closer to the noise, to the sound of a woman’s voice, of a man’s, too. You look around the hallway and see the doors to theaters with the numbers written on a sign above them, along with what is playing in the theater—all the signs are blank, and the voices are not coming from them. You come to a jog, eager to find the workers so you don’t get in trouble for being there without a ticket.

Finally, near the end of the hallway, you can hear the muffled voices more clearly now, light flickering from the circle of glass on the theater door. You glance up—the sign says Theater #13, and below it, the title of what’s playing: Wandavision.

You’d never heard of that, and you wondered why the workers were watching a movie if they were supposed to be out in the front hall selling tickets. Carefully, you push through the swinging door, and you freeze.

The entire theater is empty, not a single soul sitting in the crowd of red seats facing the screen. The theater is entirely dark, except for the ray of light particles above your head projecting the film onto the screen; you look.

You see a woman on the screen, with fiery red curls, wearing a blue plaid shirt and jeans with suspenders. She is in a kitchen, picking up toys and putting them into a basket under her arm. You see the camera shift—a blonde man walks into the kitchen, looking distressed.

“You can’t do this again, Wanda,” he says in a refined, almost robotic voice. They start to argue—this looks like something from the 80’s, like some sort of sitcom rather than a film. How old was this theater?

With legs that suddenly feel wobbly, you step down the stairs and look around again. There’s evidently no one in the theater. Even as you glance up at the projector box high up on the wall, you don’t see anyone in the little room there either.

There is not a single soul in this entire movie theater.

You hesitated, considered. What would a worker say if they walked in and saw you watching the screen without a ticket? It wasn’t your fault that there was no one around. You would easily pay for a ticket right there if they asked you to. Surely, they would understand that you simply couldn’t find anyone, and that the seats were calling your name, and that suddenly you found yourself sitting down on a seat somewhere in the middle, red fabric scratching your fingers as you gripped the squeaking cushion and sat down, eyes stuck to the screen.

“Do you know how lonely it gets, Vision?” the woman with red hair, apparently named Wanda, asked the blonde man named Vision, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at him. “You are hardly ever home. The kids have grown up—God, it feels like they were just born yesterday!” A laugh track of an audience plays, and your lips curl upwards at the comedy of it, though you didn’t get the joke. It definitely was an old sitcom—maybe they were still practicing using film rolls and were using this old TV show to test their machines. The quality of the show was grainy, a colorful little square box of images on a wider, more rectangular screen.

“Wanda,” Vision says, stepping closer to her and placing his hands on her shoulders, but she moves away from him. “You are abusing your authority. Your… powers.” Vision face tilts to the side towards the camera, and for a moment you thought his eyes looked right into the lens and at you, as if you were interrupting the conversation, before he turned back to Wanda. “Please don’t do this.”

Wanda only raises her eyebrows and smirks, a satisfied and amused look crossing her features. She was beautiful, really. You didn’t recognize her as an actress, nor him, but the green in her eyes and red on her lips, with her fiery hair and fierce cheekbones, mesmerized you.

“This conversation is over,” she whispered, and suddenly credits started rolling up the screen, listing the names of the directors and producers and actors over the image as an audience clapped in the background.

“What the hell,” you mumbled, disappointed that the show was ending right as you had just sat down to watch. Through the letters of the rolling credits, you saw Wanda turn away and walk through a door, Vision following after her.

“Wanda!” he exclaimed, trying to follow her through the door, but suddenly the picture was jagged on the screen. Your eyebrows sewed together in confusion as the image froze, of Vision just getting to the door, the credits flickering.

“What the…” you began, glancing up to the projector box. There were no more light particles in the air.

The image blinked and glitched in pixels of red, the image warping and the saturation fading as if it were melting right off the screen, only incoherent bits of audio glitching through the speakers before suddenly the screen went black, leaving the theater in complete and utter darkness and silence. It must have been an issue with the projector.

“Shitty movie theater,” you grumbled, throwing your head back on the seat. You got the sudden feeling that you should not be there, that you should leave immediately, that you were about to get in trouble.

You should just head back to your apartment, you thought to yourself. Stop running from your problems and lay down in your bed and just force yourself to go to sleep no matter what it takes. Do anything. Just get out of there.

As you stood to leave, a light emerged from the screen. You froze, looking at the screen to see that the projector was working again, that the show was back on. Only this time, the blonde man named Vision was not there, and Wanda was in a living room right now, sitting on a couch and staring right into the camera with an eerie half-smile. You felt the shock of the fourth wall breaking.

You blinked—why was she staring into the camera, making it seem as if she was looking right at you? What kind of a show was this?

“Where do you think you’re going?” she spoke languidly, her voice echoing through the large, empty, dark theater. A hot fire of fear rose up through your chest, alighting your nerves.

Was this another one of your insomniac episodes, like when you didn’t see the car coming as you crossed the street? Was it the projector glitching again? Was it some strange joke within the show that you didn’t understand?

She was silent again, staring right through the screen with her lips curled into a subtle smile, hands resting on her jeans. On the screen, on the projection, she was ten times larger than you, like some sort of purveying giant watching the theater with catlike, observant eyes.

You looked around the theater again, now hoping to see a worker, but there still was no one.

“I’m talking to you,” Wanda spoke, the ends of her words curling up like crumpled paper, the edge of a foreign accent. “Yes, you.” She tilted her head patronizingly, her voice lilting. “The girl with the jacket and the sleepy look on her face.”

Your hands in your jacket pockets started to sweat. There were no other people in the theater, and you were a girl, wearing a jacket, donning perpetual dark circles under your eyes. You opened your mouth to say something but stopped, feeling stupid for the urge to talk back to a TV show. But how did she know? Was it a joke? Was the theater playing a prank on you using the magic of technology?

“Come closer,” she said, whispering. “I want to get a better look at you.” You only stood there in the row, lips agape, eyes widening and moistening with fear. She stared at you expectantly—what were you supposed to do? You were curious about this, albeit terrified.

With unsteady feet, you stepped out of the row and onto the center aisle, taking a few steps downward, closer to the screen. Her eyes squinted and followed your figure.

“Oh,” she said, her smile turning into a wide, pearly grin. “You are a pretty one.”

A pretty one?

“Why don’t you tell me your name?”

This would be the final evidence of whether this was real or not. If this was some pre-recorded clip, some kind of uncanny coincidence, there was no way you could reason its unreality if she said your name.

“Y/n,’ you murmured.

She leaned forward, turning her head and cupping her ear. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

Your mouth was dry as you licked your lips and said louder, “Y/n.”

She leaned away and grinned. “That’s a pretty name, y/n.”

Horror sparked within you, your feet stumbling backwards as you gasped. All the hairs on your neck stood up on their ends, and you finally listened to your instinct telling you to run. Grabbing at the railing, you sprinted up the stairs towards the door, only inches from grabbing the handle when a sudden wall of red energy bolted itself against the wall. You stopped, staring at the strange red energy that buzzed and circulated within itself as if it were alive. You reached out—fingertips met the wall of red and zapped you, sending you stumbling back down the stairs.

Wanda’s voice was louder and deeper now through the speakers. You stared up at the screen as she stood up, smile fading, camera following her to focus on her face. “You’re not going anywhere, detka.”

Shadows cast down on her face as you watched her green eyes swirl into vermilion orbs, her hand lifting and reaching forward, that same red energy swirling around her fingers. You watched her fingers, so close to the camera that they were blurred, make a gesturing motion. Red energy jumped through the screen and wrapped around your ankles like a rope, pulling you down to the ground harshly.

A scream left your throat as the magic started dragging you by your ankles towards the screen. You grabbed at a railing to catch yourself, but the magic was too strong. The metal railing slipped from your sweaty palms and sent you off again, down the long center aisle, the stairs bruising your body as you turned onto your back and flailed, reaching for anything but finding nothing. You were dragged closer and closer to the screen, and when you expected your feet to rip through the paper, instead a red orb opened and swallowed you whole.

Hot energy surged through you, and you felt things moving on your body, moving within you, the air getting hot and cold and then there was no air at all, a loud buzzing sound piercing your eardrums, redness blinding you, until suddenly you felt the feeling of cold wood on your face. Catching your breath, you laid your palms flat on the wooden floor and lifted yourself up.

Blinking, your vision cleared, and you looked around the room you were in. It was a house, a living room—the same one that the redheaded woman was in on the TV show. You were lying on the floor in front of the couch as if you had just fell off it, and as you raised your head, you saw her sitting there.

The redhead named Wanda, who had just been a projected image on the movie screen, was sitting on the couch right in front of you, now proportioned to real life.

“This isn’t real,” you whispered, grabbing at your face and scratching to wake yourself up. Surely this was a dream, a nightmare. Maybe you never left your apartment at all, never walked past the six blocks and the drugstore, never stepped into the theater. Maybe you had fallen asleep that night and were having this horrific nightmare safe in your bed.

“Oh, it’s all real,” Wanda said, glancing around the living room with a proud smile. “Down to the details.”

You could feel the wooden floor under your hands and knees. Her voice was clear in your ears. You smelled the lingering smell of dinner having been made just hours before. You heard an engine—looked outside a near window to see a neighbor mowing the lawn, and another neighbor with long black hair and a purple sweater clipping the hedge bushes, discreetly looking towards the window.

You moved your hand outwards to touch the coffee table—it was real. You swiveled your head around to where you had fallen through, expecting to see the other side of the screen, but you only saw the other side of the room. It was all dimensional now, all real right in front of you. You were not dreaming.

“Let me go,” you said, clumsily getting to your feet. “Please.”

Wanda smiled and stood from the couch, stepping towards you. You took a step away. “I’m afraid I cannot do that, y/n. It’s a one-way street, as they say.”

You turned in a circle, trying to find the movie screen again, the red seats, the golden popcorn machine. There was nothing but this unknown house you were standing in.

“The man,” you said, turning to look at her again, feeling yourself dwindling down. “Vision,” you remembered, thinking back to their conversation before the screen had glitched. He was asking her, pleading her, to not do something. You remembered the way he nearly looked at you. Maybe he could help you. “Where is he?”

Wanda laughed, her voice ringing eerily in your ears. You were still having trouble realizing that she was real, until she reached forward and snaked a hand on your shoulder, her touch warming your skin there. “Oh, he went out of town,” she said, holding back her strange laughter. “Don’t know when he’ll be back.” Her laughter ceased, smile fading as she stared at you.

You tried to step away from her touch, but her hand squeezed your shoulder. “Wanda,” you said, and it sounded strange saying the name of this woman you didn’t even know, who had only been a character just moments before. “What is this?”

She blinked and creased her brows. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Where am I?” you demanded. “I was just in the movie theater—Tinseltown.” You tried to remember walking into the theater, seeing its dazzling sign from across the street, but your brain could not conjure the memories. You froze, feeling fog fill your mind. Why couldn’t you remember walking in? It was all fading fast from you now. “And you…” you trailed, trying to catch onto the memories of your last few moments before you were pulled into the screen, but you couldn’t. “You…”

“Oh, honey,” Wanda cooed, placing her hands on either side of your face, grinning at the confused look on your features. “You must have had a bad dream.”

A bad dream is what it felt like to you. You wanted to ask her how she pulled you right into the TV show, right through the screen with that buzzing crimson magic roped around your ankles, but it was gone from your mind now. All of it was. All you remembered was standing up from the wooden floor and touching the coffee table. Did you fall asleep on that floor? Had a bad dream, like she said?

You didn’t know that the Tinseltown theater was closed during the day. It was closed because, under the sunlight, around the swarms of people, it was a fitness gym, filled with weights and machines and sweaty people. During the night, under the stars and the full moon, it transfigured into the Tinseltown theater, empty and luring with its flashing lights, inviting any stranger in, never letting any of them out.

You didn’t know that the neighbors you saw out the window of that house had once walked into Tinseltown, curious about the retro theater with not a soul in sight. They had once walked that same block, wondering why they didn’t see anyone around, why they had never seen that theater before, why it was totally empty, why the only thing playing was a TV show called Wandavision. They never left the theater. They were residents of Westview now, the population built from the number of individuals who were lured into Wanda’s trapping illusion. Once Wanda pulled them through the screen, they forgot who they were, what life they lived before, where they came from.

You didn’t know that the reason you didn’t see any other people on the streets that night was because Wanda’s reach left you blind, made you see what she wanted you to see, made you do what she wanted you to do. In reality, the theater was still a fitness gym at night. When you stood across the street, the dazzling lights you stared at was actually the dark face of the closed gym. When you walked in, the ticket counter was just a service center. The popcorn machine, the candy, the hot dogs, none of it was there. You were only staring at stacks of weights and metal machines in the dark, empty gym.

You had fallen for her hex.

“Come, detka,” she whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead and holding you in her arms. Suddenly, you no longer remembered your apartment or your friends or your parents. You only remembered living there with Wanda as her lover and wife, raising Billy and Tommy with her, leading a simple, calm life in Westview suburbia. Your life built up behind your eyes, constructed by the vermilion flare in Wanda’s fingertips.

Wanda’s lips kissed down your cheek as you remembered these things, as if her lips were pressing the memories into your skin. She kissed the corners of your mouth, then her lips melted against yours. Her lips moved to your jaw, your neck, behind your ear, encasing you in a familiar lust that it seemed you had known all your life. “Come to bed,” she whispered, and you did, not seeing the devilish, malignant grin on her face.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #marvel #lgbt #horror #dark!fic #wanda maximoff x f!reader

1K notes · View notes

cornyonmains · 6 days

Text

I'm hoping the insane box office take Deadpool and Wolverine had drives Marvel towards targeting adult audiences with more of its properties. I've been reading comic books all my life. The medium is a messy one that started with some standard issue white dudes in the 40s, queer counter culture personalities after Vietnam, and then showbiz writing talents going into the 90s in a desperate move to recover from market saturation.

In this VAST canon of creative works, the MCU's biggest problem is they're trying to give every single storyline this family friendly tone that audiences are starting to recognize as creative bankruptcy. As Marvel and Disney being more concerned with milking families of four for cash than preserving the creative integrity of a product to properly translate that magic to the big screen.

Deadpool and Wolverine reminded me of how great it would be to finally get to see Peter Parker grow up. To get to see him hanging out with Deadpool AND Logan (could you fucking imagine), having finally been given a story that keeps him out of this state of perpetual boyhood the movies and TV shows have always kept him in.

The comic book fandom has never been one where family friendly rules the roost, ESPECIALLY not with Millennials. Marvel is making the audiences who grew up with their movies feel pushed aside for a younger and newer audience, so of course they're not going to show up, which basically takes Gen Alpha with them. That leaves Gen Z and they're broke.

I've said it once, I'll say it again. If Disney is going to continue to buy up every studio under the sun, they need to learn to acknowledge adults exist and are complete exhausted with origin. coming of age, and overcoming adversity plots. We're old. We've learned these life lessons. Now we just wanna see shit get weird, sexual, and frankly, a little gay. Is that too much to ask?

#Deadpool and Wolverine #Spideypool #MCU #Marvel

40 notes · View notes

fiapartridge · 7 months

Note

mack and graces first date !!

first date | m + g 🌷💌⭐️

macklin x hughes!sister

summary: mack and grace go on their first date!

fia's notes 💌: like i said in my other post, grace & mack spent like their entire first year of knowing each other just being friends so them being on their first date is kind of like a long time coming vibe sooo enjoy !

not proofread

The sun stretched its golden fingers across the landscape of Michigan’s lakeside as a gentle breeze whispered throughout the leaves of the towering oaks. Grace’s sunkissed nose was hidden behind a book as she sprawled herself out on a blue beach chair. Her long brown locks were tucked beneath a camo trucker hat, her back exposed to the light as Macklin smiled silently to himself, making his way over to the girl.

“Did you know that 1-in-4 girls are involved in entrepreneurship?” Grace asked, feeling Macklin sit down beside her.

Macklin chuckled quietly. She always knew when he was around even when she wasn’t looking. “No, I didn’t.” Macklin reached for the sunscreen in her tote bag, opening the cap, and squeezing the thick liquid into his hands.

“I think I should go on Shark Tank. I really think I could get a deal done,” she said, mindlessly talking as he moved her hair to the side, working the sunscreen into her skin.

“What’s your product, Teddy?” Macklin first called her ‘Teddy’ after hearing Brock Boeser call Quinn ‘Huggy Bear.’ She could remember that moment like it was written across the walls of her mind: “Can I call you Teddy?” he asked, his hands in her hair and hers playing with the rings on her fingers.

“Why,” Grace laughed, turning her head to look up at him.

“‘Cause Quinn is Huggy Bear, so you can be Teddy Bear.”

She rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. “Except I’m not soft like him.”

“No,” Macklin grinned. “You’re the toughest around, Teddy.”

“How do you feel about a VR vacuum cleaner,” she suggested, flipping onto her back and shielding her eyes from the bright sun rays.

“VR vacuum cleaner?” he smirked, shaking his head as he applied more sunscreen to the front of her body. His hands worked over her stomach as she stared up at him in awe. She never had to ask.

“Think about it: you’re sitting on the couch, you don’t want to get up and get the vacuum cleaner and clean the whole house, so you put on your VR headset and it connects to your vacuum, and you’re vacuuming from your spot on the couch!”

“Teddy—”

“Nope, nope. It’s gonna work, you gotta trust me, Mack. This is a billion dollar idea.”

“Totally,” he chuckled before getting up from his spot behind her, grabbing her hands to pull her up with him. “Come on, let’s go.”

Grace furrowed her brows, closing her book and stuffing it in the tote bag she brought. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere.”

“Yes, said by every serial killer ever,” Grace rolled her eyes, huffing as she reluctantly followed him.

“I’m not gonna murder you, G.”

“Murderers never admit it to the victim, dumbass.”

He slung her tote bag over his shoulder as he held Grace’s hand in his, pulling her in the direction towards the lake house. “I’ll tell you if you go get dressed.”

She raised a brow, her eyes narrowing at the boy. “Are you not comfortable with what I’m wearing?” She wore a blue denim-patterned triangle bikini and a light sunburn on her freckled face.

“Trust me,” he inched closer. “I love what you’re wearing, but I don’t think the people at the flea market will.” Everytime he talked, Grace swore shocks ran up and down her spine. She could feel him on every piece of her. He just had that effect on people. Macklin Celebrini makes people feel special, and this past year, that’s all she’s ever felt with him—special

“The flea market?” she eyed him suspiciously. She hadn’t even known there was one in town that week.

He pushed her gently toward the house. “Come on, woman. Just get dressed; I’ll wait for you out here.”

She spun around, her hands colliding with his chest as her puppy dog eyes burned heart shaped rings into him. “Just one hint?”

Placing his hand on her bare hip, he ran his thumb over her tanned skin. “Our first date. Now will you please go. You’re really ruining my itinerary.”

“Your itinerary?” she laughed.

“Stop laughing and go,” he chuckled, pushing the girl away from him. God, she was gonna be the death of him.

Rows and rows of stalls littered the Michigan streets as Macklin held Grace’s hand, pulling her in every direction. By the twelfth stall, she was already holding a bouquet of white tulips and a soft cat plushy that looked exactly like Mittens, her Russian Blue back at home.

“I bet you’re glad I kidnapped you, huh?” Macklin smiled, swinging their hands back and forth between them.

“So you admit it,” she smirked, turning to him as they walked along the row of stalls, watching the couple pass by. “You kidnapped me.”

“It’s not kidnapping if I take you somewhere where you’re happy.”

“You will be surprised by how many kidnappings end up with the victim being happy and then, when they’re most vulnerable, they’re stabbed to death.”

Macklin shook his head, dragging Grace along. “You’ve gotta stop watching true crime documentaries.”

“But what if a hot guy tries to seduce me and I end up killed?”

He squeezed her hand, bumping his shoulder with hers. “I’m not gonna let any hot guy seduce you unless it’s me.”

Just before Grace could trip over her own two feet and melt into a blushy puddle right on the asphalt beneath them, a worker in one of the stalls called out to them. “You! The couple!” she pointed as Grace and Macklin looked at each other, silently asking if they should go or not.

Despite the hesitation, the couple made their way over to the older woman who was adorned with crystal jewelry and an eclectic mismatched quilt skirt. She sported black round glasses and curly gray hair—totally dyed for the effect.

The woman, her eyes sparkling with ancient wisdom behind her round glasses, leaned forward with a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Well, well, well," she murmured. "What do we have here?"

Grace shifted uncomfortably, her fingers nervously intertwining with Macklin's as they both gazed at the array of cards spread out before them.

The reader's gaze flickered between them, as if she could see right through them. "A couple in the making, are we?" she mused, her tone light yet knowing.

Macklin chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, not exactly," he replied, shooting a quick glance at Grace, who blushed furiously in response.

Grace cleared her throat, mustering up her courage. "We're, uh, sort of testing the waters. This is our first date," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The tarot card reader raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Ah, the dance of courtship," she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Well, let's see what the cards have to say about your little...experiment, shall we?"

With a flourish, she began to flip over the cards, each one revealing a glimpse into their future.

As The Lovers card appeared, the reader's eyes twinkled with delight. "A powerful connection," she murmured, her voice filled with certainty. "The kind that transcends time and space."

Grace felt a flutter in her chest, her gaze meeting Macklin's with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. His lips quirked up for a moment, a hope deep inside of him wishing that this was real and not just some superstitious, otherworldly money grab.

Next came the Ace of Cups, its image shimmering with promise. "New beginnings," the reader whispered, her voice tinged with reverence. "A love that knows no bounds."

Macklin squeezed Grace's hand, not daring to look at her. He was as red as a tomato, and this was their first date. He was sure she was scared off by now, but Grace felt a sort of warmth spread through her chest. She didn’t care if this was real or fake; she liked hope.

Finally, as The Ten of Cups appeared, the reader let out a soft chuckle. "Happiness," she declared, her words carrying the weight of prophecy. "A lifetime of joy and fulfillment." The tarot card reader smiled, her eyes crinkling with age-old wisdom. "Hold tight, kids," she said, her voice a gentle whisper. “You’ve got a whole lot more dates ahead of you.”

#macklin celebrini x hughes!sister 🌟#macklin celebrini

102 notes · View notes

breelandwalker · 1 year

Text

Strawberry Moon - June 3, 2023

Grab your baskets and your moon jars, witches - it's time for the Strawberry Moon!

Strawberry Moon

The Strawberry Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of June in the Northern Hemisphere. The name is taken from the ripening of those little red heart-shaped berries we find in so many summertime treats. Strawberries are typically ready to harvest beginning around the summer solstice, though this will vary depending on variety, planting times, and local weather. The Strawberry Moon, sadly, does not turn pink to match the berries.

Other European names for this moon include Honey Moon, Rose Moon, and Mead Moon. Indigenous names for the June moon include Blooming Moon (Anishinaabe), Green Corn Moon (Cherokee), and Hatching Moon (Cree).

What Does It Mean For Witches?

Full moons are excellent times for bringing wishes to fulfillment and plans to fruition, all the more so under one named after a prolific berry. This is an optimal time to make things happen!

This is a time to explore things that catch your attention or pique your curiosity, and to let yourself be open to new ideas and new opportunities.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

With a full moon in the sky and the summer solstice hot on its' heels, it's time to prepare for a full bloom. Here's hoping you've been nurturing those plans and seeds of growth you planted in the spring, because they're about to start flowering and the way is clear to sow the next stage of your plans. What they will be and what new prospects the summer will bring is entirely up to you.

With the moon in Sagittarius again this year, it's a good time to look ahead to the future. Think on the plans you have in process and let yourself dream of how things might turn out. If you're inclined to journaling, make a note of how things are going so far and how you hope they'll turn out. Pick your favorite divination method and do a reading for the month ahead. (Make sure you write that down too so you can check back later!)

Happy Strawberry Moon, witches! 🌕🍓