#Best psychic readings in London

[astroravi]

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[vishnuastrologer]

Famous Astrologer in London

[psink]

Saiki Kuusuke and Teruhashi Kokomi guidebook full pages translation:

(left side) Disaster element: Unsuccessful attempted triggering of the World War.

Kusuo's older brother and a genius inventor with an IQ of 218. The eldest son of the Saiki family, currently studying abroad at Cambridge University. A genius who spoke his first words at 1 month old, but due to an inferiority complex because of his psychic younger brother, he ran away to London. ↑He takes pride in his top-class academic abilities even within the prestigious Cambridge University. ? To avoid encountering･･････ Don't get caught on the surveillance cameras!! Kuusuke can hack into all of London's surveillance cameras in an instant. Isn't Japanese security a piece of cake in his hands? Let's find a place without cameras.

! If you happen to encounter･･････ The topic of his younger brother is not allowed!! Because of his "younger brother complex", talking about his younger brother is strictly forbidden. If you do, he'll psychologically corner you. (right side) Ecological information: 【Name】 Saiki Kuusuke 【Height】 179cm 【Weight】 64kg 【Birthday】 June 16th 【Blood type】 B

Disaster Status: Intelligence S, Physical Strength B, Obsession S Genius ◎ Cambridge University Kuu-kun Extreme masochist 0 wins 4254 loses Dr. KU-SUKE

Overall disaster difficulty: 80% (C) You're safe in Japan, but be careful when travelling to London!

[Kusuo:] It seems that is such thing as a younger brother who surpass his older brother.

Main appearance spots Having left Japan at the age of 14, his current base of operation is mainly London. Almost never returns home.

(top left) Relaxing tea time Elegantly enjoying tea time while looking at his personal computer in a luxurious hotel room. He has amassed a massive wealth thanks to his patents! (bottom left) This is the best place to concentrate He goes to the library at the same time every week to read. Everyone knows that reading in this place is part of his daily routine. (top right) There is no such thing as a younger brother who surpasses his older brother･･････ Due to studying abroad at Cambridge University, he is currently living alone away from his family. (bottom right) Reunion through the monitor You shouldn't feel safe just because he's not in Japan. Various machines can immediately turn into his cameras. There's no room for carelessness or weakness.......

Asou-sensei's idea memo: I indented from the beginning that Kusuo would have an older brother, and I also decided that he'd be a scientist who competes against Kusuo. However, it was difficult to find the right timing to introduce him. The only foreshadowing is on 2nd panel of page 12 of volume 2, where 3 fingers are held up.

(left side) Disaster element: The world revolves around Teruhashi-san.

The most beautiful girl in the world, loved by God. She is the idol of PK Academy and prides herself in such beauty that even God is captivated by her. Teruhashi-san is aware of this, which, frankly speaking, makes her invincible. →Even naturally formed clouds take shape of Teruhashi-san's wings.

? To avoid encountering･･････ Avoid the crowds!! A crowd of onlookers gather around Teruhashi-san. So if there's a crowd, it's a warning sign.

! If you happen to encounter･･････ Offu-ing! In case of encountering her, that'll bring you happiness, so there's no such thing as an avoidance technique. If you want to leave quickly, just say "offu".

(right side) Ecological information: 【Name】 Teruhashi Kokomi 【Height】 171cm 【Weight】 ?kg 【Birthday】 August 6th 【Blood type】 A

Disaster Status: Intelligence A, Physical Strength C, Appearance S 7 billion people's love A kind and perfect girl Children × Captive [of love] Offu Life on easy mode

Overall disaster difficulty: 75% (B) Since Teruhashi-san has an impressive number of followers, she is quite dangerous.

[Kusuo:] Even God obeys her.

Main appearance spots The reason Teruhashi-san goes out, is to show people her appearance!! Truly noble!! (top left) Bringing happiness to Hidariwakibara-chō by letting people see her On days off, even though she doesn't have much to buy, she strolls around the main street of Hidariwakibara-chō as an eye-candy for the purpose of enjoyment of people around her.

(bottom left) I only accompanied my brother Her brother is a super famous celebrity. They often go to the cinema together to watch the movies he's in.

(top right) If I wear it, it'll fly off the shelves, you know? Being a perfect beautiful girl, anything she wears will suit her. Therefore it's fine for her to shop in an ordinary clothing store in the town.

(bottom right) After-school girl talk. Lately, her way of enjoying herself has been talking about love with Yumehara and other classmates at cafes and dessert shops. Asou-sensei's idea memo: When you think about what person would be able to oppose Saiki, it has to be a "perfect beautiful girl", right? And if she's a perfect, beautiful girl, I think she'd definitely be aware of her charm, right? The reason she doesn't have any ribbons, a unique hairstyle or other prominent feature is because, being perfect, she doesn't need them.

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

Thinking about how Kipps is everything an adult supervisor should be and it’s those exact reasons he cannot live with himself being one... this was just supposed to be a post of contrasting block quotes and it’s still mostly that but I added a bit of commentary/context:

“The adult supervisors had zero psychic sensitivity and, since they were mortally afraid of going anywhere near an actual Visitor, never ventured far into a haunted zone. Instead, they hung around on the sidelines, being old and useless.” 

- Lucy in The Creeping Shadow

Kipps, meanwhile, during the Guppy escapade:

“The one exception was Kipps, who sat cross-legged in the kitchen, drinking hot chocolate and reading a newspaper. He didn’t have sufficient Talents to do psychic exploration.”

(emphasized because he’s actually in the home, none of Lucy’s adult supervisors have ever done that -- also he’s staying out of the way) 

Later, he makes an official suggestion in his capacity as Fittes observer, but when the actual psychic kids reject it, he goes along with their plan anyway. Not only that, they’re actively trying to draw out Guppy and Kipps helps: 

“Lockwood inserted his crowbar into a narrow space between a countertop and the cupboard below.  ‘Kips and I will start,’ he said. ‘The rest of you keep watch”  ....After a bit, he moved back and let Kipps take over with the mallet.

And then :

“We have to go and help him, Kipps,” I said.  Kipps didn’t seem to have moved since Lockwood had left the room. His face was white. He gathered his wits. “Yes. We must. Come on.”

He doesn’t end up having to do anything because George finds the Source a moment later but he’s willing! He can’t see the ghost but he’s gonna go help Lockwood fight it! 

I don’t have my copy of Screaming Staircase with me to double check so I’ll edit this later-- I can’t remember if Lucy asking Jacobs to come into the house and offer advice is in the book or a show addition, but it’s such a contrast!!! 

And then, of course, these are all the reasons that Kipps ends up resigning-

“I just had a realization,” he said when we were on the train and rocking slowly through the south London suburbs. “After the Guppy job. I mean, there we were-- in a house possessed by a wicked and powerful entity, and you all were running around like madmen-- fighting, screaming, being fools-- but dealing with it... I was just a fifth wheel. I couldn’t see it, I couldn’t hear it... I was too old to do anything useful. And that’s what being a supervisor is: it’s a life of sending others out to fight and die. I’ve known that for a while, but it took you to make me realize I couldn’t bear to continue with it.... it was probably another dumb decision... like agreeing to come along with you today. Lockwood says he wants my expertise, but I’m not sure what I can contribute aside from standing around like a fence post. Maybe I can make the tea.” 

which like wow! The acceptance that he no longer has Talent, that his leadership can no longer continue to the way it used to -- which is exactly what an adult supervisor should do -- be there for input, listen to the psychic kids, advise and support-- it’s what Kipps does !  

we very frequently see Kipps actively engaged with his Team in Whispering Skull and Hollow Boy- obviously he has a Prideful streak, he’s pompous and makes mistakes, but we generally see him trust his team and do his best as a Leader. Again, don’t have my copies with me so can’t make the point further in those books, but also remember the reason he falls into hot water with Fittes in the first place is he goes a little rogue-- and the reason for that is because none of DEPRAC or the other Adults know what’s going on with the Chelsea outbreak, and, in the wake of his agent’s death, Kipps doesn’t want to lose anyone else to arbitrary nonsense (there’s something here in direct contrast to Marissa but maybe I’ll expound more in another post) -- instead, he trusts a Talent he actually knows and makes the best choice for his team members 

Which is all to say-- Kipps is a good adult supervisor, but the system isn’t made for good adult supervisors 

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 16 - Prompt: Adore @pandalilymicrofics

February Daily Series - 799 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Lily was still reeling from Pandora’s disconcerting ability to switch to flirtatious after she’d looked so concerned, angry, or annoyed. It was startling to see her wide, innocent eyes become lidded and dark as her pupils blew wide with little provocation. She caught herself staring far more often than was polite.

When combined with Pandora’s visceral reaction to her fall, Lily couldn’t deny that there was something about her that felt almost…addictive. She wanted to stand closer to her even after she’d assessed that the logical choice would be to move away. They weren’t actually connected by an invisible string, after all.

Unfortunately, the desire to know everything about this woman overshadowed her distaste at her best friend — and his new cohorts — blatant attempts at matchmaking. Despite the reminder that this was all a set-up, Taylor Swift lyrics continued to tease the back of her mind. Lily was fascinated by her.

“So, Lily,” Sirius said, sidling up beside her with a sly grin. “Having fun?”

“The music hasn’t even started yet.”

“Yeah, but the festival is fun. Right?”

Lily folded her arms over waist and shrugged. “It’s alright. The festival hardly changes from year to year.”

He bobbed his head side to side with a noncommittal hum. This little performance was clearly well-rehearsed. Sirius’s nonchalance was anything but casual.

“What’s your favourite part so far?” he asked.

“The tent for the fudge shop.”

Remus perked up at the mention of chocolate. “Fudge shop? How did I miss that?”

“It’s on the other side of—” James started to explain, having just returned to drape himself over his boyfriend’s shoulders after greeting the DJ.

“Focus, James,” Sirius said under his breath, waving him away. He turned back around with a bright smile. “I adore a little drama myself, so the tarot card reader was my favourite. She was brilliant!”

Pandora jerked forward and grabbed Sirius’s arm. “Tarot? Where? Do I have time to find her before the dancing starts?”

“Hmm? Oh, I think so. She’s right there.”

Lily followed the path of his outstretched hand toward a small stall on the other side of the bandstand. It was covered with beautiful tapestries decorated with bold colours and tassels that parted in the centre to create a doorway. The hand-lettered wooden sign read, “Madame Trelawney, Psychic and Seer.”

“Oh! I have to speak with her,” Pandora insisted, striding forward purposefully while her skirt whipped around her ankles.

“Wait, wait!” Regulus called after her. He flailed within James’s unyielding hold. “I have to go with her or she’ll waste all of her money!”

“She’s an adult, love. It’s her money to waste.”

In the end, it was Regulus’s frustrated huff that won her over. Anyone who paid the slightest bit of attention to the pair could see that he and Pandora were close. In fact, Pandora seemed to value Regulus’s friendship over her brother’s, which Lily understood perfectly.

“I’ll go with her, Regulus,” she assured him.

Relief washed over his face. “Thank you.”

Lily lightly jogged after the eager blonde. “Pandora! I’m coming too.”

She was frowning when she spun around, but as soon as their eyes met, a slow, soft smile replaced it. Her steps hesitated long enough for Lily to catch up. Thankfully, she hadn’t bolted like last time.

“You want to hear about your future too?”

Absolutely not.

“Sure,” Lily said, flipping her plait over her shoulder. “Maybe she’ll see if I end up moving to London after all.”

Pandora’s smile bloomed beautifully. “Oh, yes! You must ask her about London.”

It was unlikely that “Madame Trelawny” could see the future or tell her anything useful about her life, but Lily knew better than to say that aloud. Perhaps she would try to keep an open mind. If only to show Pandora that she really didn’t mean to offend her beliefs.

“What are you going to ask her?”

“I always ask psychics the same three types of questions. The first is about my past and establishes their credibility. I’m not as naive as Regulus thinks. I know a charleton when I see one.”

Lily nodded, but didn’t interrupt. She hadn’t expected Pandora to acknowledge the possibility of a fake, let alone to have a method for exposing one. The more she learned about her, the more interesting she became.

“The second question corroborates the last reading I had with my personal psychic — who I trust implicitly — and the third is open to speculation. I think it’s interesting to see how each psychic interprets the signs or signals they receive,” Pandora explained.

“So, if two psychics saw the same thing, they might still interpret it differently?”

Pandora nodded, then pointed at Lily. “Exactly. Just like when two scientists review the same information and reach opposing conclusions.”

“Huh. Alright, consider me intrigued.”

Next Part>>>

[archiveoftara]

London Boy

Part 2

I found myself under a pile of bills. Utility bills, water bills, rent, things that needed to be paid but I don't even have a single penny to feed myself .

This small precious dream of mine is costing my life but I can't back out right now.

Six months ago I ran away from my toxic family, to make a living in London, to own a jewelry company but it didn't go as planned.

I banged my head on the table in frustration. What am I gonna do?

After a moment of contemplating my life, I begin to clean up the mess. Slowly picking up scattered papers when my eyes fell on an advert.

Lockwood and Co

The prestigious psychical agency requires a junior field operative and an assistant researcher. Duties will include on-site analysis of reported hauntings and the containment of same. The successful applicant will be SENSITIVE to supernatural phenomena, well-dressed, preferably female and not above fifteen years in age.

Unsuccessful applicants will include time-wasters, fraudsters and persons with criminal records. Apply in writing, together with a photograph, to 35 Portland Row, London W1.

I carefully folded the paper and rushed to my room.

33..34..ah 35. This must be place.

I check the advert again just to make sure I'm at the right place.

I fix my hair and clear my throat one more time before ringing the bell.

"Um hi-"

"Are you Arif's new girl?"

"....who's Arif?"

"Runs the corner store, usually sends someone over with donuts as you don't have any, you must be here for the interview."

I nod awkwardly. Not the best start I see

"Name?"

"Y/n y/l/n. Are you Mr. Lockwood?"

"Me? No." It seem like he is offended. "The last girl just went down but from the look of her, she won't take long."

I step inside the wide hallway, filled with artefacts, books and a chipped plant pot around the corner. This is where they keep their rapiers I guess.

"You win George. That was the last one."

"Then who's this?" The boy named George pointed at me as if I'm some alien. (and I took offense to that)

A boy with very bright, dark eyes and nice lopsided grin said "Hello, I'm Anthony Lockwood." I shook his hand and introduced myself.

"What's your talent?" Lockwood asked.

I gave a small smile "I don't have one."

For a minute I thought the time stopped. I tried to read their faces. I'm sure they're gonna kick me out.

"Well that's fine, we're looking for a researcher anyway and it doesn't need much talent, does it George?" He looked at the boy, sitting at the corner sofa.

He wiped his glasses on his t-shirt "I don't mind."

"Do you have any past experience?"

"Not really." I blushed. "But I am a fast learner, I will work hard. I really need this job."

"George will train you so don't worry." He clasped.

"This means..I got the job?"

"Yes. Welcome to Lockwood and Co"

My eyes shined like a diamond. "I'm not going to disappoint you sir, I desperately needed this job. I'll do anything, thank you so so much." I thanked them like my life depended on it and it kinda did. Lockwood and George exchanged a look (they were talking in some code word I can feel it.) It doesn't matter. I won't be here for too long.

It's been a few weeks since I've been working as a assistant researcher. We also have a new member, her name is Lucy Carlyle. She's really cool, we get along well. Lucy stays with them, they offered me accommodation, too but I refused, I still have a dream to chase.

The work is actually interesting but George makes it a bit difficult for me, he's a perfectionist. I don't blame him. I just try my best to live up to the standards. 

It's the beginning of November, the nights are chilly lately. I've just finished some papers regarding the latest case.

"We should head back it's getting late." George looks at his watch.

"Hmm?" People already left the library, it was just me and him now.

I quickly stood up but felt dizzy. I felt an arm around my waist, I felt a pair of warm brown eyes on me. His mole is cute..has he always been this cute?

"Y/n you alright?" George holds my arm.

I clear my throat "yes. perfectly fine." I quickly gathered my books and walk as fast as I could. The moment I step out of the building I was welcomed by the chilly wind hitting my face. I stood for a moment, my back against the wall. 

I feel so weird.

"Y/n, It's best we see a doctor." He frowned.

"I'm fine." 

"You wanna walk by yourself? Alright, Let's see that." George scoffed.

"Why are you so mean George Karim?" I winced.

"You're being crazy. You clearly need help." 

"George, I can manage." 

"At least let me walk you home." He insisted.

"Nope." With that I make my way home little did I know what was waiting for me.

Maybe I should've been more polite. All he wanted was to help me but I'm a big girl I can manage. It's just a little fever. I slowly made my way to the neighborhood when I felt something strange. I feel nauseas, like something rotten is near me. I felt a heaviness on my chest, something was pulling me away. Soon I felt the cold hard ground, I tried to call for help but nothing came out of my mouth that's when I heard a sound of metal drawn.

"Are you alright?" He keenly looked at me.

"What happened?" I panted. 

"You were ghostlocked. Please just let me walk you home we can argue later." He pulled me with him. 

I think my dream is gonna end before it even starts.

Hello my dear readers, first chapter is done and dusted. Excuse my crappy writing. Hope you like the chapter. Do let me know your thoughts in the comment section. I love you!!! 

Word count: 968

[neevedafoe]

I have written something new.

I want to talk to you by NiahmDaFoe - Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud https://archiveofourown.org/works/51631282

You can also read it here:

Summary:

A fanfic in which Lockwood and Lucy call each other.

This is set during black winter. Between The Hollow Boy and The creeping Shadow.

This Fanfiction was inspired by Twitter and got me into a writing rage today thanks to Lavenderghostco posting a picture from the very talented Artist aenniyam from Instagram in which a rain drenched person dramatically leans over the telephone in a telephone booth.

--------------------------------------------

*bip* *bip* *bip* *bip*

Lockwood listens to the busy signal of the telephone-handle pressed to his ear, clasping it tightly, water droplets running down his hands, falling from his hair leaving streaks on his face. He is soaked from the heavy downpour, which paints the early dawn in light greys and dark blues. How did he even end up in this Telephone booth?

He had run from the argument he just had. George had had enough. His reckless behaviour put them all at risk. And Lockwood couldn't face that he was indeed, losing it.

He had lost everything. He had lost her. Lockwood was so angry, angry with himself and his emotions of weakness. He couldn't stand George telling him off. He knew full well that he felt incompetent and lost deep down and didnt need his best friend pull it out into the open.

Lockwood had been reckless, although he knew that George and Holly were his responsibility. He knew he had to be a better leader, to be more cautious for them, but at the same time he had lost all will to do that. What does it mean if he can't even get Lucy to stay. Or to come back. He'd shown her that the agency was strong enough, so why didn't she come back? She could at least call.

So, why did he run here? What was he about to do in this telephone booth? Whom was he going to call? Lucy? Ridiculous!

He hung up the receiver.

*clack*

Maybe he just unconciously went inside to find shelter from the rain? Lockwood dropped his arms, took a deep breath, and tried to listen to the sounds around him. Around this little cubicle of space.

Night caps and the first few cars of the day were passing by on wet asphalt.

*drip*

Rain pondered against the telephone booth, corners of the now colourless notes glued to the booth by old scotch tape were flapping in the wind.

*drip*

Slow drops fell from his shirt to the floor.

With a deep breath through his teeth, he decided: he would call her; he'd show them that he's okay.

Maybe he'd tell her that she was stupid for leaving. That he'd be ready for negotiations to take her back into the agency. Tell her, that most debts were paid by now and that he could employ another agent to have more time to train with her to control her talent.

He realized that even in his thoughts he was rambling. He hated this. He'd show her. He'd show himself that he was over this!

He gripped the receiver once again, rummaging in his pockets for a coin and called the directory enquires.

He didn't - couldn't wait for the operator to speak:

"Lucy Carlyle, psychic investigations, London please" he heard himself say.

"Certainly sir. Do you just want the number or shall I connect you?" The voice of the operator was nice, soothing even.

"Connect please." he cleared his throat

"I'll connect you now. Have a good day sir!" the operator chimed. He heard a clack in the line and then the dial tone rang heavy in his ear.

*beep*

He took a deep breath.

*beep*

He didn't dare breathe out.

*beep*

Was she out on a case? What took her so long to answer?

*beep*

After a surge of impatience he felt all hope deflate. Maybe she was on a case after all. It was stupid, really, to think that she would be home at this time of day.

*beep* *click*

"Lucy, Lucy Carlyle - psychic investigations. How may I help you?" her voice sounded hurried and tired at the same time.

"...ah..." There were no sounds he could make. All his elaborate anger and prepared words were gone. She was there. She was alive!

"Hello? Can you hear me?" Lucy asked.

"..." he held his free hand to his face to stifle the sob trying to escape his lips.

"Are you okay? Do you need help?" she inquired.

...

*drip*

...

He felt his face go hot with tears.

"Are you still there? Do you need assistance? Shall I send someone?" Her voice now laden with a hint of anxiousness.

..

Lockwood couldn't breathe.

"I'm sorry." it was barely a whisper that escaped him. He took the receiver from his ear and it felt like it got heavier with each moment he held it, while Lucy, Lucy was still there. She was there.

Just mere moments from hanging up he heard her :

"Lockwood?! Is that you?" She sounded concerned.

With a heavy “Thud”, he hung up.

*drip*

He curled himself over the telephone and allowed him a moment to gather himself.

*drip*

Tears mixed with rain as it fell in little droplets onto the telephone.

Why was it so hard to breathe? Why did this feel like his chest had been ripped open?

*drip*

Lockwood stood, wiped with his hands over his face and sighed.

He put on a smile like an armour and made his way back to 35 Portland Row.

********

As he got into the house at Portland Row, he was greeted by Holly.

"Lockwood, are you waiting for a call? We have had a caller all morning which only hangs up on me or George. So I figured it was .."

*riiiiing* *riiiiiiing"

George stomped out of the kitchen cursing "Oh for god’s sake, who is this?!"

"I'll get it." Lockwood said with a strange composure and he felt a small smile creep onto his face.

*riiiing*

"Lockwood and co, Psychic investigations. Anthony Lockwood speaking, how may I help you?" He tried to beam his Lucy Smile into his voice and hoped that it would come across.

"..."

Lockwood paused, contemplating what to say. George and Holly were still with him in the hall looking at him questioningly.

The other end stayed silent

"I'm here." he said. And with that the caller hung up.

Lockwood gathered himself, put down the telephone, put on a smile and turned to George and Holly. "Maybe wrong number?"

He shrugged overtly and began hopping up the stairs. "I'll be with you in a bit. Let's properly debrief then." He tried to sound as confident and careless as possible while stealing away to his room.

With the comforting sound of his heavy door closing behind him, he tried to sort his feelings. He knew the caller had been Lucy. She was concerned about him.

He felt a pleasant warmth rising in his chest while simultaneously feeling guilty to have made her worried about him.

They both knew that they were alive. That had to be enough - for now.

[talentforlying]

NINE NIFTY THINGS YOUR MUSE CAN DO.

01. write & read music. not that punk band mucous membrane was churning out grammy-winning material, mind you, but knowing where all the notes go on a sheet of staff paper, which ones sound good together, and a handful of things about tempo and rhythm aren't half-bad skills to have. of course, constantine's process for writing music would make professional composers cry, but these days he most often puts this skill towards creating new spells, since he finds the principles remarkably similar, so the music world is spared his endeavors for now. ( underground single venus of the hardsell excepting. )

02. miniature-scale arts & crafts. he's really gifted with his hands, and with any activity that requires fine motor skills: intricate ritual-carving, cutting his own hair, braiding other people's hair, restringing an instrument, rolling insanely long joints, fixing jewelry, sewing, threading a corset, building a detail-accurate small scale model of a chair out of matchboxes for an ex-girlfriend's miniature house.

03. electrical work. another useful application of his excellent fine motor skills. he's lived in enough shithole apartments and had to hot-wire enough cars for friends to know his way around a wiring issue or two, not to mention the fact that electricity can be a handy supplemental power source in certain spells and it's helpful knowing how to get to it wherever you are. it stands out because he's pretty terrible with most other forms of household maintenance; there's just something uniquely mind-boggling about a guy who can't unclog his sink but can install a circuit breaker like a pro.

04. tie a cherry stem with his tongue. natch.

05. get anywhere in london, and cite almost anything in its history, from memory. a big bloody city with a big, bloody history attracts a lot of unearthly creatures with a lot of different emotional, spiritual, psychic, and physical fancies; it's been useful for him to know where significant events have happened, and when, and why, in case something starts up and the symptoms strike a chord. it's also useful to know where to go when he needs to gather specific kinds of information: the seedier pawn shops, gang territories, high-end clubs where celebrities and politicians go to hide from the press. on top of the strategic reasons, he's also spent a significant amount of time being homeless under a few different circumstances, and keeps his accumulated knowledge of last-ditch shelters, times that the police patrol the sewer tunnels, and safe places for a meal close at heart.

06. gamble with a 100% win rate. two of his best tricks are synchronicity wave traveling and probability manipulation, where he basically feels out the flow of luck in the space around him and shifts the current to go his way. it's incredibly dangerous on a larger scale, since it can cause a butterfly effect — too risky to use on avoiding a hit that would have killed him or sabotaging a villain's scheme, for example — but as long as he sticks to small-scale, short-term events like horse races and poker games, he cleans up easy. it's his primary source of income, since he doesn't have an actual job.

07. melt the face off a vampire. specifically the former king of the vampires, but supposedly any. demon blood is a nasty thing to have in your veins, and incredibly corrosive upon ingestion/absorption, for unknown reasons. if anyone wanted a snack they'd have a bad, bad time.

08. semi-fluently sign in & understand BSL. he credits his reason for learning to a deaf ex-boyfriend he dated in the 90s and has continued to brush up on his skills over time, although his preference to learn languages from the people who use them, lack of consistent lessons, and geographically-wide variety of friends has resulted in a . . . frankly nightmarish hodgepodge of dialects that can make him harder to understand.

09. play electric guitar, bass guitar & harmonica. he was lead vocalist and bassist for mucous membrane, and although they were only together a year before the newcastle incident, he'd been learning both electric and bass for a year or two before. it took him a long, long time to pick it up again, given the circumstances, but he managed to get his hands on a fender 1962 jazz bass a few years back and has been slowly but steadily working on getting the old feel back. the harmonica started as a joke gift from gary after constantine and chas got arrested for a pub fight in '77, so they could play it to pass the time when they inevitably got shafted by the system ( they didn't, constantine talked their way out ) but he became quite genuinely good at it, and now it's his shameful secret.

[astroravi]

[fromrosepetalcottage]

Wabi sabi life

Photo by Sakagura London.

I've been thinking about the Japanese practice of kintsugi as seen in ceramics, as well as the sashiko mending technique in clothing. Kintsugi encompasses the concept of wabi sabi. Wabi-sabi is the view or thought of finding beauty in every aspect of imperfection in nature. It is about the aesthetic of things in existence, that are “imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete."

Is this not something that we can apply to humans in all our imperfections, psychic wounds new or old, bodies easing into "vintage" years? I read something on a Japanese website that translated the concept in an accessible way that really made me think of how wabi sabi could apply to us, especially as older women. To quote:

Wabi sabi is a beautiful way to describe what is natural and pure and to acknowledge the beauty of any substance or being in its most natural and raw form. It eliminates the rather Westernized concept of artificial beauty and idolizing a state of perfection that is seemingly unachievable and unnatural. The western world has made the concept of beauty into something that is becoming more and more refined as well as more and more unachievable with each passing day and it distorts the idea of natural beauty and accepting the flaws of existence, however, on the contrary, the Japanese belief and concept of wabi-sabi embraces just that and allows the people to be more accepting and open to embracing the beauty of flaws and rawness. Source: https://www.kyoto-ryokan-sakura.com/archives/191

I can't be the only person who scrolls social media and is dismayed by the ubiquity of certain types of selfies. There is a depressing sameness of makeup, hair, expressions, poses. A famous actress once said that adolescence was the time of life when young people had to prove their individuality by looking exactly like everyone else. And that's what social media has become. Extended adolescence on a worldwide scale. Even influencers targeting a mature crowd seem to have fallen into the look alike/dress alike mold. Style blogs that are supported by retail outlets spotlight similar fashions, and while some might link to different size ranges, few share resources that help women understand their shapes or unique natural coloring, leading to a different type of clone wars.

As the Japanese point out, in the West our idea of beauty is something that is so airbrushed and Photoshopped into perfection that it's often unrealistic. A friend and I recently had lunch then stopped in a local IG hotspot to shop and get a couple of snapshots. A nice bystander took a few photos of us, but I was dismayed to see the unfiltered evidence of my current age. I look old, was all that I could sputter. As my friend pointed out, I'm pretty good with editing software and apps, so after a little tweaking, I uploaded the best shot later. But that reflex has nagged at me a little. I don't like looking older, but it's my reality. I am 64, although I could pass for late 40s on a good day.

In the Western Hemisphere, as well as the U.K., the idea that youth is best reigns. When I was in my 20s, I learned that once you hit 30 you were considered over the hill in Brazil. Maybe this idea came from ancient Greece. During the Classical period, idealized sculptures had perfect proportions, but also illustrated the Greek's belief that people peaked at about the age of 18 or so. Even a sculpture of Zeus, king of the gods, might have depicted him as an older man with flowing hair and beard, but Zeus still rocked a body that would make Arnold envious. Over millennia canonical artists have continued to use youthful models. However, the two years of art school that included life drawing classes with nude models ranging from fit and young to older and soft taught me to look differently at bodies.

Model mama, art school, 2002.

For whatever reason, I had an easier time drawing bodies that had a surplus of "fluff" on them. Students weren't supposed to have contact with our models, but our class threw a shower for one. She had taken a maternity leave and on her return, still obviously hadn't lost any of the baby weight, but it didn't matter. Her Rubenesque curves were a delight to try and capture on my drawing board. Unlike some of the young guys in my classes, for me there was nothing sexual about drawing an unclothed body. I saw light, shadow, lines, curves, textures. It takes a certain kind of bravery, and maybe some healthy vanity, to model nude for a studio full of strangers four days a week at universities and art schools around the county to earn enough to live on. This woman gave no fucks that she was considered large in that pre-body-positivity era. Her body had functioned beautifully as it was meant to. She brought a healthy baby into the world. The abundant curves of her abdomen and hips were certainly evidence of their recent use, and she was still breast feeding - again her body was functioning as nature meant. What society might consider imperfect served not only her child, but also students looking to refine their technique in depicting the human form.

We all have some type of imperfection whether visible or invisible. Childhood wounds to the psyche aren't always apparent, although the effect of physical wounds remain visible or physiological in limps or twinges. Our culture pushes near perfection via magazines, films, television programs, and online influencers who seem to want to sell us something that will bring us closer to that elusive goal.

I have another friend who is fond of saying that we already have all we need inside us. While meditating this morning, that thought drifted into my consciousness. I was focusing on wholeness and trust - self trust to be exact. I've made so many mistakes at this point that they could be used as examples on how NOT to live. But I'm ok, and I do have all that I need externally. I have a job and good friends. My home isn't the fanciest, but I have a comfortable place to lay my head at night, there is food in the pantry, and there's good reading and music at hand. Experience has been a tough teacher, but instead of being broken my body has mended the external damage, and the practice of meditating and journaling has helped to salve the emotional wounds.

As those thoughts came to me after I finished meditating, the concept of wabi sabi surfaced. Beautiful imperfection. The kintsugi technique is the repair of shattered pottery and then using gold leaf to highlight the lines where the vessel had come back together. The jagged lines aren't seen as flaws, but as something to be cherished and the gold makes a treasure of the piece. Sashiko mending involves using decorative stitches to patch or darn a spot on a garment that is fraying or has developed holes. The technique has come into fashion in the West with people becoming more conscious of sustainable clothing. Rather than disposing of a worn garment, repair it and add a personal touch that is a thing of beauty in and of itself. I tried sashiko on the elbow of a much loved topper that I was wearing at work every day. The technique salvaged the piece and kept it out of the recycle bin.

Sashiko source: https://perennialstl.org/event/boro-sashiko-mending/

After a pretty traumatic road accident the same elbow on my body had to be stitched back together, along with some other spots. The stitches didn't quite heal right, and 12 years later, the scars are still there on my arm. Maybe they're my personal kintsugi, although it's not possible to apply gold leaf. The scars are evidence that I am still here, still functioning - got motion back - and I'm still useful. I'm broken but unbowed.

I believe that anyone who has made it this far is going to have some internal or external damage; it's natural. Life is not perfection; life is messy and if we just accept that we can't control everything, it's a bit easier to accept the occasional mess and imperfections. While I certainly have things I'm still working on, things that are in my sphere of control, the rest is what it is. Like the kintsugi vessel, my scars are golden. If you've read this far, yours are as well...

[sneakymystique]

Headcanons

Some old headcanons, posted here to archive them.

Sleep: Mystique can use her control over her cells to minimise the need for rest. She usually sleeps with her eyes open and remains a higher degree of awareness than someone who sleeps normally.

Body: The Brotherhood boys are teenagers and therefore Mystique is used to having her breasts and other parts ogled. She encourages this when she wants to manipulate them, tolerates it for most of the time, but when she’s in a bad mood…that’s when the Brotherhood get their bruises.

Eyes: Yellow and serpentine, Mystique’s eyes grant her superior vision which is why she often retains them when using the forms of animals.

Skin: Raven’s clothes are an illusion produced by her powers-they’re just reshaped skin. She can take them off-it’s like shedding a layer of old skin, there’s some pain but it’s very minor. It amuses her to donate these husks to charity shops or leave them in people’s wardrobes, she thinks it a delicious irony that humans are unknowingly wearing the unwanted cast-offs of a superior species.

Horseman powers: From what I can tell Mystique was the only mutant to retain her enhanced powers from Magneto’s machine. Therefore I theorise that her x-gene is malleable enough to accept and retain changes made and that this includes the changes wrought by Apocalypse. However using these abilities is physically and mentally taxing for her, so she uses them sparingly.

Probing her mind: In her natural form Mystique’s mind is like a blank space to a telepath, no matter how hard they press they won’t be able to break in. This is because her grey matter is ever changing and grants her a natural immunity. When wearing other people’s forms Mystique usually creates a kind of psychic blanket to go around her mind. The top layer is a number of surface thoughts that she pushes out to match what she thinks her mark would be thinking. Under that is a layer of chaotic mental static, still flavoured like the person she’s disguised as thoughts, but it hurts to stay there long. Beneath that a place only the nosiest telepaths go is where Mystique’s tell-tale mental blank lurks.

Ronnie Lake: In 616 verse Ronnie Lake was an identity Mystique created when she got bored. Ronnie was the ‘model of the millennium’, and was considered to be one of the most beautiful women who’ve ever lived until a tragic yachting accident off Florida, her body was never found. Mystique smiles every time she sees Ronnie’s face on posters or in commercials, knowing that if people knew who was lurking underneath, they wouldn’t stare at that perfect face so dreamily.

Children: Mystique loves her children in her own twisted way, and their rejection of her is one of the most painful things that have ever happened to her. She really only wants what’s best for them, and what’s best is something a woman of her experience can best decide. Consequently she is working on plans that will bring them round to her point of view…big plans.

Fatherhood: Mystique is secretly Rogue’s father, Irene Adler is her mother. Rogue knows it which was why her nervous breakdown on discovering the truth was so severe. Mystique generally prefers the label ‘mother’.

Sherlock Holmes: Mystique was posing as a detective in London when she met Arthur Conan Doyle. Her ability to read body language and razor sharp memory was what inspired Conan Doyle to create Sherlock Holmes.

More headcanons here

[whatsthecolouroftheskyblog]

Hello, how are you?✨

Today I am here to try to convince you to pick up (or at least consider) the Lockwood & Co. series by Jonathan Stroud. The series is also going to be adapted into a Netflix TV show coming out in January, so this is the perfect time to give the books a try.

The story is set in an alternative version of London in which "the Problem", as people call it, has spread: ghosts are coming back to the mortal world, putting everyone in danger 👻 Only children can see and hunt them in order to protect the rest of the population, and they do so through organizations called Agencies.

All agencies are controlled and monitored by adults, except one: Lockwood & Co. The owner is the young, confident and with a mysterious past Anthony Lockwood, who runs his agency from the walls of his dead parents' home, alongside his nerd best friend and associate, George Cubbins. The story starts when Lucy Carlyle, a girl with strong psychic talent from the countryside, starts working with them.

If you are looking for a funny and creepy story filled with sarcasm to read during fall, this is certainly for you! 😊

Filled with amazing character dynamics, this book will make you fangirl and laugh out loud, just to break your heart at the end 😭✨

https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck8jXkBIhjn/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[geeoharee]

And now in ‘DVDs someone got for Christmas so we watched it while we were round at their house’, ‘Cruella’ is a fucking weird film

Like OK, you think it’s starting out with “she’s a misunderstood misfit child!” and ripping off Wicked, which is justifiable cos Wicked is great. Then there are, I cannot stress this enough, killer CGI dalmatians. There are three of them. They are owned by an evil rich woman and they kill Cruella’s mother. Cruella runs off to be an orphan thief in London (source of ripoff material changes to Oliver Twist, bad child acting abounds) and is taken in by Jasper and Horace (I had to check: yes, these are the henchmen from the movie, guess that reads)

So then there’s like twenty minutes where it’s a fun heist film and they use a trained chihuahua called Wink to steal jewels from rich people and stuff. But Cruella’s dream is to be a fashion designer, so Jasper gets her a job working for the evil rich woman who is the best fashion designer. (Yes, we’re now doing Devil Wears Prada. Just watch Devil Wears Prada instead, it’s fucking great and this film is not even an adequate ripoff of it)

Theeen something ... I forget ... Oh yeah, she finds out the evil rich woman (played by Emma Thompson, incidentally, who is at least having fun) killed her mother with the killer CGI dalmatians and did I mention a little fluffy dog has been Cruella’s only friend this whole time? It’s one dog when she’s a kid and a different one when she’s Emma Stone, obviously.

So she decides to become a rival fashion designer but in secret (apparently this whole sequence with the punk stuff and the vandalism is ripping off Joker, which I’ve not seen, but also had the same plot about ‘...but actually he’s your real dad’. Oh did I not mention? We find out later that Emma Thompson is her mother.)

And there’s this whole thing with an amulet which contains the secret knowledge that Emma Thompson is her mother, and she tries to steal it, but the dalmatian eats it, so then she kidnaps the dalmatians for a bit, here are where the jokes about sifting through dogshit go. And Emma Thompson’s evil sidekick (Mark Strong) defects, for reasons I don’t really understand. And it ends up with a big confrontation where Emma Thompson is tricked into admitting she killed Cruella’s adoptive mother in front of a load of people, so then she goes to prison, and Cruella gets all her stuff (? not sure that’s how that works)

Oh also the killer CGI dalmatians defect at this point and apparently there’s a post-credits scene where one of them has puppies and Cruella sends puppies to Roger and Anita? (Anita is her childhood friend in this one and Roger works for the fashion house) Because Cruella is psychic and knows this will kick off the plot of the animated film? I guess?!

I dunno. I just feel that if you present a film as a prequel which sets up why Cruella de Vil wants to murder a load of puppies, she should, at some point, express the desire to murder a load of puppies. There’s a fake-out where you think she turned the killer dalmatians into a coat, but she didn’t. That’s exclusively to get a picture of her in the coat they could put on the poster. It’s just very unsatisfying.

Did they just have too many people on the team? Did the ‘she’s traumatised by a dalmatian attack’ guy not meet the ‘we’re doing Wicked now’ guy? Had any of them actually SEEN ‘101 Dalmatians’? Will Disney ever stop lying about the queer content of their films? (His name’s Artie, he runs a vintage shop and helps Cruella out a couple of times, he could plausibly be a very androgynous straight man and can be effortlessly cut for the Chinese market.)

We all KNEW what Cruella’s deal was. ‘See My Vest’ is a better explanation of her motives than this film. And now I want to rewatch Devil Wears Prada.

[slllimmme]

Pesterlog I had with myself to get a feel for a character

—————————————————————

——arcticExplorer[AE] began pestering badBatter[BB]——

AE: Helloo

AE: I listened too that album yoou sent me,

AE: The clash oone,

AE: didn’t soound how low I expected really,

BB: :F< ?

BB: :F< By not how you expected what do you mean?

BB: :F< Like, not like the pixies shtuff you listen to?

BB: :F< Actually, the pixies are pretty good, disregard my last statement.

AE: uuuh, noo, I expected it too be like that, but I guess because it was soofter than I expected,

AE: I mean, the coover’s got this dude,

AE: this sick ass dude,

AE: and he’s all shirtless and smashing his guitar,

AE: soo I guess I thought it would be harder,

AE: yoou said it was a “seminal album in poost punk” or soomething,

AE: I doon’t really relate punk too soongs I could just put oon and jam too

BB: :F< Post punk was like, a reactionary genre.

BB: :F< It was basically taking punk and slowing it down, taking all the ideas of punk and making this dancy, calmer, more controlled rebellion.

BB: :F< I really like it personally.

AE: yea, I mean it wasn’t bad, just,

AE: disappointed me a bit,

BB: :F< You have horrid opinions.

AE: 88(

BB: :F< How the hell do you not like London calling, yet think make believe is a good album.

BB: :F< Actually reading back that last sentence maybe it’s good we have differing opinions.

AE: yoou’re soo mean soometimes 88(

BB: :F< Sorry.

BB: :F< You’re just so strange.

BB: :F< I simply must study you.

AE: as loong as I doon’t have too wear a hoospital goown,

AE: they make me uncoomfy,

BB: Hospital gowns may or may not be required.

BB: Based off your level of tastelessness.

BB: ——arcticExplorer[AE] began pestering batBitchcrazy[BB]——

AE: Helloo

AE: I listened too that album yoou sent me,

AE: The clash oone,

AE: didn’t soound how low I expected really,

BB: :F< ?

BB: :F< By not how you expected what do you mean?

BB: :F< Like, not like the pixies shtuff you listen to?

BB: :F< Actually, the pixies are pretty good, disregard my last statement.

AE: uuuh, noo, I expected it too be like that, but I guess because it was soofter than I expected,

AE: I mean, the coover’s got this dude,

AE: this sick ass dude,

AE: and he’s all shirtless and smashing his guitar,

AE: soo I guess I thought it would be harder,

AE: yoou said it was a “seminal album in poost punk” or soomething,

AE: I doon’t really relate punk too soongs I could just put oon and jam too

BB: :F< Post punk was like, a reactionary genre.

BB: :F< It was basically taking punk and slowing it down, taking all the ideas of punk and making this dancy, calmer, more controlled rebellion.

BB: :F< I really like it personally.

AE: yea, I mean it wasn’t bad, just,

AE: disappointed me a bit,

BB: :F< You have horrid opinions.

AE: 88(

BB: :F< How the hell do you not like London calling, yet think make believe is a good album.

BB: :F< Actually reading back that last sentence maybe it’s good we have differing opinions.

AE: yoou’re soo mean soometimes 88(

BB: :F< Sorry.

BB: :F< You’re just so strange.

BB: :F< I simply must study you.

AE: as loong as I doon’t have too wear a hoospital goown,

AE: they make me uncoomfy,

BB: :F< Hospital gowns may or may not be required.

BB: :F< Based off your level of tastelessness.

AE: d’awww…

BB: :F< Anyway.

BB: :F< Did you watch that show?

BB: :F< I am not okay with this, the old earth thing.

AE: yea, well, I got like two episodes in,

BB: :F< Annnnddd…?

BB: :F< If you say anything bad I’m keytaring your face so hard.

AE: yoou coouldn’t toouch me if yoou tried

AE: i’m scary as hell

AE: boooo

AE: but yea its fine soo far, like I’m invested,

AE: life oon oold earth looooks soo booring thoough.

BB: :F< Maybe that’s a good thing though?

BB: :F< Hate to break it to you Ten but this place kinda stinks.

BB: :F< Like, really bad.

BB: :F< Really REALLY bad.

BB: :F< Like, if I made a universe I would want it to be like that.

AE: psychic girls trying their very best noot too kill everything?

BB: :F< Quiet and suburban.

BB: :F< Rolling hills beyond our little slice of heaven of a town.

AE: meh,

AE: I’m soooooooooo satisfied,

BB: :F< With what?

BB: :F< Living under Crocker every day?

AE: I’m way far away froom all that,

BB: :F< I wouldn’t put it past Crocker to… find you.

BB: :F< Lets stop talking about this.

AE: alright,

AE: I goota goo too bed anyhoow,

BB: :F< Night.

AE: night,

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