#I have also concluded that I do not know how to draw filths
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Have this very dumb doodle of the general ultrakill multiplayer experience
@sunkissedspirit and I used the Jaket mod to play together and they had another mod that made them spawn an absurd amount of coins at once, so of course this lead to stupid scenarios
Some screenshots under the cut (+ a video - though it does contain flashing images)
#ultrakill#the doodle is of low quality im having a lil artblock moment but I still wanted to draw something#I have also concluded that I do not know how to draw filths#anyways- woe 5604 coins be upond ye
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Incantation of Incineration pt.2
>>>Read on AO3<<<
As we were blessed by a continuation of the GODLIKE fanart, I have decided to keep my word (for once). Check the picture out if you didn't yet, you are missing out O_O -----> https://twitter.com/NxngOna/status/1388902556693405706/photo/1 Anyway, this one is a bit longer and a tad more sinful than the first one, so beware. Unless you are here for the filth, that is.
How does one control a demon?
That was the question at the forefront of Mikasaâs mind in the last week. Despite her doubts, despite all of her previous bad luck she finally managed to summon one but he was not obeying her in the slightest. The opposite in fact, she very much remembered his whispered threatening question.
âDo you feel in power?â
She didnât, not back then, and Mikasa wanted to be prepared for the next time. Of course that there would be a next time! She had so many questions to ask, so many wishes to fulfill so manyâŠ
Ok, easy, first the controlling part.
The last time he was here the Demon was doing whatever he wanted. While it was only eating her out, for some reason, it was done out of his will and the goth was simply swept in it. Never again. Next time they meet, she will be the one in control.
Yet it was hard to fulfill such a wish.
The internet gave her dozens of websites, hundreds of articles and discussions, but combing through them Mikasa didnât see anything that caught her interest. Searching the amazing book she found in the library, she didnât find any help there either. If there was a demon-binding ritual, she missed it.
In her anguish the goth asked the smartest person she knew â her friend Armin.
âAr, any idea how I could control a demon?â
He looked at her, pushing his glasses up a bit.
âWhat are you talking about?â
âI summoned one last week but I couldnât make him do what I wanted.â
âI seeâŠâ, he didnât believe her, of course he didnât, but Mikasa didnât mind that.
He would still help her because Armin was a ray of sunshine and the best friend a girl could ask for.
âAny specifics about this demon?â, he asked, âMight help me in my search.â
âWell, he was human-looking, but with horns and black claws. He also had strange markings under his eyes and there were torn shackles at his wrists.â
âHorns, markings, shacklesâŠâ, dutiful as ever, Armin marked it all down, âOkay, Iâll do some searching and see what I can find.â
Leaning over Mikasa hugged him, whispering a quiet thank you into his ear.
As always, Armin delivered.
It was in the evening when Mikasa was laying on her bed, eyes rowing over the text in her new spellbook when her phone pinged.
A: Found an article that matches the demon you told me about. Apparently you can bind him to you by the shackles.
M: what do I have to do?
A: You need a key which you have, use the one you keep wearing.
Mikasa did like to wear an old key around her neck, an old trinket she didnât even remember where it came from.
A: The spell is described in the article, use that and the âDemonâ should obey :)
Yea. âDemonâ. Whatever.
M: thx, I owe you one <3
Opening the link Mikasaâs eyes quickly scanned the spell, muttering under her breath. She lacked a few key ingredients, the biggest one being a live bird (?) for some reason. The required red scarf â that was another thing that Mikasa owned, making her wonder just what kind of spell this was.
Luckily her parents were gone on another business trip and wouldnât be back for another two weeks, giving her ample time to gather these things. She bought a canary in a pet shop, a new set of black candles and few flowers. Back home she made those into a flower crown, just as the spell required.
In the middle of the room stood the birdcage, the canary watching Mikasa prance around. The key was put in front of the cage, the flower crown around it. Last the scarf â the goth circled it around the crown before putting the candles in required positions, lighting them up.
There, that should be everything.
Keeping the article open on her phone Mikasa began chanting, strange words once again leaving her lips. Whatever those meant she had no idea, but the effect was almost immediate. First of all the candles snuffed out. Then the flower crown caught fire, burning into nothing in a split second. After that the scarf moved, flying towards her and wrapping itself around her neck without anyone touching it. Last it was the key â it turned on the ground with a screech and suddenly the birdcage sprung open, the canary flapping its wings and disappearing out of the window in a split second.
Mikasa stared at it all with wide eyes.
Well, that was quite something. When everything calmed and nothing moved anymore, she concluded the ritual. Hiding the birdcage and scarf and putting the key back around her neck, the goth prepared the usual pentagram with candles, pulling out the knife. Ready to cut herself under the eye again, she said the spell, raising the blade to her skin.
Yet before it could make contact, the smoke explosion was back.
Knocking her backward same as before, the Demon was there in full glory, eyes immediately flying to Mikasa. Thin lips twisted into a grin that exposed the sharp teeth.
âYou donât have to cut yourself anymore, my beauty, I have your scent now. When you call me, I will answer.â
Collecting herself from the ground, Mikasa took a deep breath and straightened, staring the demon in the eye. With just a slightly trembling hand she gripped the key around her neck, thrusting it towards him. It glowed, his shackles did too, and the demonâs face changed from smug to surprised.
âWhat is this?â he wondered out loud, raising his hand to inspect the torn chains.
âA spell I used.â, Mikasa said triumphantly, all giddy inside that it worked, âI bound you, you are now under my control.â
âIs that soâŠâ
Slow, testing, he took a step towards her, the chains rattling slightly. Summoning all her mental strength Mikasa stood fast, clutching the key like a lifeline.
âS-Stop!â, she commanded the demon, praying to the dark god that the spell will work.
The demonâs whole body shook as he tried to take another step, muscles refusing to move.
âYouâŠâ, his eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint entering them, âYou donât know what you are playing withâŠâ
With a grunt he threw himself against the invisible bonds, straining.
âRelease me! Or I will make you regret it.â
Despite all these dangerous words, despite all the threats he was forced to stand still and Mikasa felt her lips curving into a smile. She won. Finally, she had a demon under her control.
âI donât think that I want to do that.â, confident she circled the frozen statue, admiring his body now that she could take a good look, âI think that I will keep you.â
He had a lot of scars, crisscrossing all over his skin, cuts of all shapes and sizes. Fascinated by one that went around his throat, Mikasa reached out, running her fingers over it.
And that was a mistake.
Fast as lighting the demonâs hand caught her wrist, pulling her body against his. Suddenly staring upwards into his smirk, Mikasa felt all her newfound confidence melting away because there was pure rage hidden in the emerald orbs.
âThat was a good spell you had prepared, witch, but unfortunately for you, I am very good at attaining my freedom.â
âI-âŠâ, she tried defending herself but the demon wouldnât let her speak.
His other hand came up, circling Mikasaâs neck and for a second she feared that he will choke her to death. That fear didnât come true as instead of pressure she could feel his fingers drawing patterns into her skin.
âLetâs see how you like being controlled.â, he whispered, and suddenly there was searing pain on Mikasaâs neck.
She stumbled backward, released from his embrace, and fell to her knees, hands clutching her throat. It burned like hell itself and Mikasa screamed in pain, but as quickly as it appeared it was gone, leaving nothing but a memory in its wake.
Or not, as there was something hugging her neck now.
Carefully tracing the thing with her fingertips Mikasa identified a new choker. She had one before, a simple strip of black leather, but this one was different. It was more like a tight collar, adorned with metal spikes all around.
âHow does it feel, being collared like a dog?â, the demon rumbled, getting her attention.
âI⊠Strange.â, she gulped, realizing that having this âgiftâ from a demon might not be a good thing for her wellbeing,  âC-Can you take it off?â
âI can but Iâm not going to. First I have to show you what amazing things it can do.â, he pointed one black claw towards the magic book, lying on Mikasaâs bed, âYou do love spells, donât you? And what better magic is there than demonic one.â
âWha-â
Again, the demon didnât let her finish.
âWhatâs your name?â, he asked.
Mikasa didnât want to tell him. Names had power, even more so in magic, and telling yours to a demon is a bad move. But as soon as the question left his lips she found herself answering, unable to stop the words from tumbling out.
âMikasa Ackerman.â
He grinned upon seeing her confusion.
âSee? I own you now, mortal. As long as the collar is on you, I can make you do anything I want.â, his eyes raked all over her body, a hunger appearing in them â the same one that was there the last time they were together.
âAnythingâŠâ
The thin, abnormally long tongue slid out of his mouth, licking his lips.
âAnd there is a lot I want to do with you.â
Despite literally owning her right now, Mikasa didnât hear any malicious intent in his voice. There was the primal hunger, lust, and also a fair bit of anger but no real hate or resentment. He would make her pay, but it would not be done in a way that she couldnât handle.
The implications left not only a tingle of fear in her, but also a tingle of arousal, and the goth unconsciously pressed her thighs together to hide it. Only it didnât escape the demonâs ever-seeing gaze.
âStand up.â, was his next order and Mikasa did so, body moving on its own.
âTake off your skirt.â, this time her face boiled red as she mechanically obeyed, and still the demon wasnât done with humiliating her, âAnd your stockings too.â
Just as she unclipped the first garter, a new order followed.
âDo it slowly. Give me a nice show, I like watching you.â
And she did so, rolling the black material down her legs in the most sensual way she could muster, unwilling and unable to meet the demonâs eyes. She could feel them though, as his gaze burned its way all over her pale legs, now bare of any clothing. With her lower half in nothing but the black panties Mikasa straightened, waiting on the next command from her infernal master.
He was breathing heavily now, she could hear, every exhale laden with maddening hunger for her. Watching her undress got all the fires going, it would seem.
âAs much as I would like to get on with the fun, I do have to punish you for trying to bind me.â, he twirled his long fingers, âTurn around and bend over, hands on the bed.â
Again, her body mechanically obeyed, turning around and bending over, exposing her ass to him. And what an ass it was, even better than the demon remembered. Pale, firm, and perfectly shaped, the memories of it in his hands made his mouth go dry. Not to mention the thighs right under, because those deliciously thick and muscled legsâŠ. He was beyond hungry.
Not yet, he reminded himself, first the punishment. Then the fun.
There was a clink behind her and because peeking was not forbidden she looked over her shoulder, seeing that one of the multiple belts came loose from the demonâs black pants. He was twisting the leather between his fingers, snapping it.
The image itself was almost enough to make her fall on her face.
âI believe that a few lashes with the belts will do you good, wouldnât you agree?â
It wasnât an order, she realized, it was a question. The demon, a literal demon from hell, was asking her consent. Normally that situation would be so funny that Mikasa would burst out laughing, but that did not fit what was happening inside her body.
Logically she should say no, of course, but logic didnât have a place here. She summoned a demon â one that gave her some incredible oral pleasure during their first encounter, one she tried to bind, unsuccessfully, and one that was about to give her some good old spanking in retaliation.
Fuck, she wanted it, she wanted it so much.
Biting her bottom lip Mikasa nodded, but the demon wasnât satisfied with that.
âWords, Mikasa, use those.â
This time it was an order but he didnât use the magic collar and when the goth girl spoke it was completely out of her free will.
âYes, I deserve it.â
âWere you a bad girl?â
âI was⊠I was a bad girl, sir.â
Mikasa added that last bit unconsciously, and from the deep grumble she could guess the effect it had on the demon. Ooh, he liked that.
âWhere I come from, there is plenty of sinners like that, so I have a good idea on how to fix you.â, the buckle clinked as he swayed the belt, âI want you to count the lashes, can you do that for me?â
âY-Yes, sir.â
A satisfied huff and a bit of silence after, making Mikasa wonder ifâŠ
The first blow landed on her ass, the slap of leather against skin loud. Taken by surprise she cried out, the flare of pain running through the whole body.
âOne.â, she pushed out and was rewarded by a second sting. It was painful, sure, but it also sent pleasurable tremors towards her core. Mikasa was always a bit of pain enjoyer, and this rough treatment was something from her wildest dreams. Being punished by a demon was more like fanfiction than reality, but it was happening to her -right here and right now, and she couldnât be more turned on.
By the fifth hit, there were tears in her eyes.
By the tenth she was dancing on her toes, clenching against the belt.
Fifteen was enough to satisfy the sadistic demon, and when she cried that number through her tears, the belt dropped to the ground. Suddenly Mikasa was picked up, turned around, and practically slammed against the wall. Her legs automatically hooked around the demonâs waist while his hands held her, one around the neck while the other caught her wrist and pressed it against the wall, immobilizing her.
He was sweating, droplets of liquid sliding over his scarred skin but it wasnât because of the physical exertion. No, it was caused by the inhuman effort it took to hold himself back from ravaging the teary-eyed goth right here and there.
Even as a demon, he had certain standards.
âYou took the whipping well, too well even. Tell me, do you like pain?â
âA little bitâŠâ, she muttered, very conscious of the fire raging between her slick thighs.
A grin spread across his handsome features, the demon couldnât help but admire her face, now that they were this close. Her grey eyes were regarding him with a hint of fear in them, but there was also the undeniable arousal smoldering, and he wanted to see that fire burn.
Letting go of her for a second the demon grabbed the bottom of her black top, bunched between their bodies, and pulled upwards, revealing her chest. Nice pair of firm tits, covered by a simple black bra, just as pale as the rest of her.
Fuck, he wanted to suck on them.
Returning his hand to its previous place, anchoring Mikasaâs wrist against the wall, the demon spoke up.
âI punished you so now we can move on to a more pleasurable activity. However - I may be a damned soul but despite your stunts I do not wish to force myself on you. So Iâll ask now, and I order you to answer me truthfully â do you want me to go on?â
The goth girl in his arms shook with what he guessed was pure lust, squirming against the restrictive hold he had on her body. Her midnight hair slid over his nose, the addictive scent reminding the demon of just how amazing she tasted.
Forcing himself to wait was torture, yet he held on.
Meanwhile, Mikasaâs mind was doing leaps and bounds all over the room. Her ass hurt but it was nothing compared to what was happening in the other place â she was beyond wet at this point, so turned on that stopping her hips from rubbing on the demonâs amazingly muscles stomach was a chore. Yes, she had to prevent herself from humping him like a sex-starved maniac. His words werenât an order, just like last time, and when Mikasa spoke it was her own lust doing the talking, nothing else.
âYes.â
âDo you want me to touch you?â, he continued.
âYes.â
âNowâŠâ, he leaned closer, next words a whisper, â Do you want me to fuck you?â
âHng... IâŠâ
âAnswer!â
âY-YES! Please!â
The self-satisfied smirk grew even wider.
âWell, all you had to do was askâŠâ
Letting go of her wrist for the second time the demon moved his hand between her legs, rubbing her place of weakness through the dark underwear.
âSo wet for me, so willingâŠâ, gently he nudged her face with his nose, rubbing skin on skin, âIs this what you want so much? To be railed by a demon?â
PleasePleasePlease
Unable to speak from the sheer amount of want inside her, Mikasa settled on nodding rapidly.
The hand moved again, much to her dismay, this time stopping in front of Mikasaâs face. A bit of transmutation magic later the claws were gone, replaced by black fingernails.
âOpen.â, an order this time and Mikasaâs mouth fell open immediately.
Pushing his fingers between her lips, a new command followed.
âSuck.â
Again she obeyed, swiping her tongue alongside those long digits.
âAs much as I want to take you right now, I must stretch you out a bit first.â The demon went on monologuing, his eyes glued to her face, âIâd prefer it if you screamed in pleasure when I fuck you, not in pain.â
Those words went right into Mikasaâs core as she throbbed, impatient to finally have him touch her. Maybe sensing her eagerness the demon pulled the fingers out, dropping his hand between her legs instead. Panties nudged aside and suddenly he was rubbing her directly, fingers parting her dripping pink lips. A slight tap on her swollen clit had her gasping for air, but the opened mouth proved to be a mistake.
The demon practically attacked her, lurching forward to press his lips against hers. The abnormal tongue was back, once again slipping into her mouth and caressing the familiar places. At the same time, his digits finally pushed inside her, slipping into Mikasaâs wetness with a somewhat disgusting sound. The moan forced from her throat by the penetration was swallowed by him, keeping her silent.
For now.
Even without the main treat it was still a full meal. The demon fingered her expertly, curving his digits to rub the good places inside while also keeping his thumb occupied by toying with Mikasaâs clit. The kisses were rough and breathtaking, sucking any oxygen from her and he only left her lips to attack the neck instead, biting and kissing everywhere, renewing the faded lovebites from a week ago. Again and again, those sharp teeth sunk into the porcelain skin and Mikasa felt like she was going to go crazy.
Not even fucking her yet but she was already on the edge. The demon sensed it, of course, having his fingers deep inside her, feeling the contractions of her walls grow faster and more desperate. Smirking into her skin, a single word fell from his lips.
âNo.â
The collar burned around Mikasaâs throat and she found her body obeying, disregarding her wishes. On the edge but not falling, she found herself unable to climax, somehow being prevented from doing so by vile demon magic.
âYou bast-â
Her protest was cut short because her lips were slammed by his own, stealing Mikasaâs ability to express herself. Whining in protest she was rudely ignored by the demon, who took his time to scissor the fingers inside her instead, stretching her open, preparation for what was to come.
Despite being denied her release Mikasaâs body was more than enjoying this. She was moaning into the kiss, writhing on his fingers, ready and waiting for him. Seven hells be damned, he couldnât wait any longer. Tearing the panties away with a flick of his wrist and letting his pants dissolve into a puff of black smoke, the demon grabbed his painfully hard length as he angled it correctly against the inviting wetness.
Push.
Mikasaâs eyes widened, and her mouth fell open when she felt the head of his member parting her. She didnât get a chance to look at it but judging from how it felt the demon was rather well endowed. The girth was impressive, stretching her beyond anything she felt before right down to her limits. This was a lot she was taking, and the demon was unyielding, hands gripping her waist as he impaled her, inch by inch. Insistent he forced himself in and Mikasa couldnât do anything about it.
Yet her body accommodated to this fullness and the unpleasant feeling was replaced by a pleasant one. He went on and on until she feared that he will ram himself all the way into her guts but just as she was about to ask him to stop, the demon was fully sheathed.
Mikasa had never felt this filled in her life. The head of his member was pressed against the deepest part of her sex, no more space and no more length combining.
âFuck,â, he cursed, âwe fit together perfectly.â
On her part the goth couldnât say a word, so full of him that thinking was impossible. Not that the demon mind that.
Gripping her waist he slowly pulled out, letting his length rub all the nice places inside her. When only the tip remained he reversed his move, pushing in again. In it went with a wet sound, out it went glistening with her juices, and he almost went feral upon seeing that.
Pushing down the need to ravage her, to split her open by ramming himself inside with full strength he continued this gentle dance of his hips, forcing her body to get used to him. Only when he felt her muscles weakening - when she gave way did he speed up.
In and out like a jackhammer, the demon was finally rutting into her with added strength and Mikasa couldnât take it. She whined and moaned and gasped, unable to control her body at all. Her head fell back, knocking at the wall while her fingers curved against his back. She was holding onto him for dear life, black fingernails creating bloody lines in their path and adding to the plethora of scars on the demonâs back.
Still she couldnât climax, still the collarâs magic prevented her from doing so and the goth could feel her sanity slipping away. She would beg if she could but Mikasaâs voice wasnât of any use to her, anytime she opened her mouth only a sound of pure pleasure came out.
Helplessly open, Mikasaâs âAh-Ah-Ahâ was a direct feed to the demonâs ego. Oh, and what an egoist he was. Her voice was one thing, but when she throbbed down there â that was a feeling the demon etched into his memory with each thrust.
Edged, led on, and denied with the orgasm at the border of her vision, Mikasa was truly losing it.
She couldnât speak so she screamed, screamed in pure desperation because the demon was now ramming the deepest part of her over and over again, grunting into her neck. Mentally she begged â with her eyes, with her touches, with her legs that squeezed his waist.
This was some truly hardcore fucking she was on the receiving end of, and Mikasa needed to let go, she would go crazy otherwise. The coil in her stomach was wound impossibly tight but unable to snap and it was getting too much to handle. The tears that fell from the grey eyes slipped over the red cheeks and landed on the demonâs body, finally waking him up from whatever pit of pleasure he was in.
Watching her, listening to her, and feeling her all around him, the demon deemed the punishment complete. Not even slowing down in the wild hammering of his hips, the slaps of flesh against flesh echoing through the room, he spoke. Three words, one sentence, and it was the most beautiful sound that Mikasa ever heard in her life.
âCum for me.â
The collarâs magic was gone, the barrier dissipated, the coil snapped and the dam broke. Mikasa howled, her eyes rolling back and vision going white, black spots dancing all over it. The orgasm ripped through her entire being, from the tips of her curled toes to the ends of her sweat-matted midnight hair. She clutched to the demon because he was the only link to reality that she had, and the goth had to hold onto something otherwise her mind threatened to break completely, swept away by the overwhelming raw pleasure.
Sensing that if he kept it up she would truly go insane the demon slowed down, letting himself fully enjoy this feeling. Her walls fluttered like the wings of a trapped butterfly, the already tight passage grew even tighter and pulsed around his whole length. It felt amazing, out of this world and if he wasnât a demon he would call it heavenly.
The slight wiggle of her hips woke him up from that place, putting him back to reality. Mikasa was watching him with wide grey eyes, pupils completely blown, the movements suggesting that she wanted to go down from her perch against the wall. She probably thought that this was it, that one mind-shattering orgasm is enough of a gift.
She was wrong.
âNone of that.,â he denied her, tightening his grip on her sweat-slicked body, âI am far from being done with you.â
With those words, the most intense night of the gothâs life began.
During his aggressive fucking Mikasaâs remaining clothes, namely the black top and bra, were torn to shreds, leaving her in nothing but the spiked collar around her neck. In some strange need to bare her completely the demon even snapped her own choker away, leaving only the one he gifted her on.
The key was also allowed to stay and it dangled uselessly between her now fully exposed breasts, reminding Mikasa of her failed attempt to capture the demon. Now she was paying for it, when his sharp teeth closed around a nipple, sweetly tormenting the sensitive flesh.
Overall the demon took his time with her chest, kissing, licking, groping, and biting all over her breasts. Her chest was ravaged and Mikasa was bound to have so many bruises bloom on the skin tomorrow. Yet that was a problem for the future Mikasa to handle, the current one cared only about how great it felt, to have the demonâs teeth and tongue all over her tits.
She was taken in more positions and in more places than Mikasa could even count. The bastard spiked her pleasure with pain, slapping her ass while taking her from behind, irritating the welts that didnât even get a chance to fully form.
Every suitable, and some unsuitable, place in her room was defiled by their activities as she was being maneuvered here and there by his unyielding touch. The demon expertly shifted his torment from denial to overstimulation, giving her more than she could handle and then some. He fucked her right into an orgasm and then right through it, holding her writhing body as she lost her consciousness in an unending stream of pleasure.
A sharp bite into the neck woke her, but if Mikasa thought that she was getting a break she was wrong. It felt like the longest night of the gothâs life and it was far from over.
Mikasa came a lot, losing count early into the debauchery, but the demon never finished, holding his release back. He also never tired, his demonic stamina far outpacing the one of a poor mortal. While at the start Mikasa was an active participant in their activities, by the end of it she was practically limp, praying to the dark god that she will survive this endless assault on her body and mind.
When the morning sun peeked at them from behind the windows, when the demon saw that his partner was on the verge of total blackout from sheer exhaustion, slipping in and out of consciousness, did he allow his iron self-control to break.
Coherent enough to pull out at least, he decorated her muscled stomach with spurts of unnaturally hot release. Wouldnât want any half-demons running around now, would he? It was a lot, a night's worth of it, and Mikasa felt some splash as high as her face, but she was too far gone to care. Being a perfect demonic gentleman he even cleaned after himself with a muttered spell.
Only after himself though, so Mikasaâs filth was left behind for her to take care of. Whatever it was the limitation of the spell or just the demonâs twisted sense of humor, that would remain a mystery.
Just like that, it was over.
He was slipping out of her embrace and soon would be gone, leaving Mikasa with nothing but the ache and exhaustion. A deep part of her needed something, anything to hold onto, a word to connect these memories to, and âthe demonâ didnât cut it anymore. She reached out, weakly grasping his wrist but he didnât pull away, turning back to look at her.
âPleaseâŠâ, she whispered, only half-coherent, âWhatâs your name?â
âMy name? Demonâs names have powers, great powers, we do not give it lightly.â
âYou know mine, itâs only fair.â
He snorted.
âA mortal name in exchange for an eternal one? Hardly equal.â
âPleaseâŠâ, she begged again, âI want to remember you by it.â
For some reason he couldnât explain, those words were tugging at the very base of the demonâs existence. He shouldnât be this affected yet this mortal, this exhausted, sweaty, and filthy mess that could hardly string two words together after a night of demonic sex, this bundle of trembling muscles and pale skin marked by blooming bruises he left behind, this beautiful piece of ass that was welted by his belt just had power over him.
It wasnât any spell the demon knew, but it was perhaps the most powerful pull he ever felt in his whole damned existence. He couldnât say no to her.
He simply couldnât.
âEren.â, he said, âMy name is Eren.â
Leaning down he pushed some of the sweat matted hair away from her angelic face.
âI hope that I wonât have to wait long until you summon me again, Mikasa.â
Giving in to the temptation the demon pressed a last kiss to her forehead, strangely loving and very un-demonic. And with that he was gone, disappearing back to wherever he came from.
On the ruined bed Mikasa sighed, already missing his warmth.
Was there a way to make him stay longer? Maybe even⊠permanently? The thought of having a full-time demon boyfriend made her giggle and she pressed her face into the pillow to muffle it.
The leather choker-slash-collar was still on her neck, gently tight around the skin, most likely left behind as a gift, and Mikasa already knew that it would become her everyday accessory. The spiked looked might be a bit too aggressive for most people, but she couldnât care less. It was a gift from a demon, her demon, and she would treasure it.
Eren. His name was Eren and she would be seeing him again.
Soon.
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ao3
Itâs a sexy, sexy day when Beckett gets her promotion to the Cerritos.
Sheâs been a lower decks officer on the USS Vulker for six slutty years and itâs been the closest thing to paradise that sheâs experienced since that time Marvin tried to snort Dorito dust and ended up summoning an ancient wish giving god when he sneezed it out on an alien substance Dr. LâVertiss was analyzing as a possible cure for the parasites that were infecting the Academy.
Being a lower decks officer meant three things: contraband, causal hookups and constant disrespect of Starfleet Protocol. Everything Beckett wanted in a career. Fortunately, the Vulker was the bottom of the barrel when it came to starships, so they werenât exactly looking too close to her record. Which was fine by Beckett, who was trying to fly under the radar ever since her mother had demoted her so hard, sheâd ended up on a whole other ship, quadrants away from the Cerritos.
Thanks Mom.
So anyway, itâs a sexy, sexy day when her mother calls her, mainly because sheâd just gotten out of alien jail and gotten a cool tat out of the deal, but also because she hasnât heard for her mother in a while and, okay, maybe she misses her just a little bit. Even if sheâs probably calling for Not Good Reasons.
Beckett flips her comm open and steels herself to get yelled at for whatever.
âIâm retiring,â are not the words Beckett is expecting. She squints suspiciously at her comm, vaguely concerned that a shapeshifter has replaced her mom.
âNo, youâre not.â
âYes I am.â
âIâm pretty sure youâre not.â
âBeckettââ
âYou love being Captain and sitting in the chair and telling Ransom to stop giving himself sexy eyes in every reflective surface! Why would you retire?â
Her mom pinches the bridge of her nose, looking tired. âThis is why I wanted to tell you in personââ
âTell me what in personââ
ââShaxs is dead.â
Beckett stops walking. Blinks down at her comm. Once. Twice. âWhat.â
âSo is half the crew. This is less of me retiring and more of meâŠcutting my losses before Starfleet officially demotes my ass.â
Beckettâs day is slowly turning into an unsexy day. âAnd youâre just letting them!? Youâve been a Captain for whatââ
âBeckââ
âFifteen years and a Starfleet Officer for even longer! They canât demote youââ
âThey can and they will. Look,â Mom sighs. âTheyâre putting together a new crew as soon as the Cerritos is given the clear. Thereâs barely anyone left from the main crew who even wants to stay after this mess.â
âWhat happened?â
âThatâs classified,â Mom says, which Beckett takes to mean hack my official report if you want to know. âAnd donât go digging for it,â she adds.
Beckett resists pouting, only because the situation is so. Weirdly serious.
âIâm not calling you because of that, however. Ransom is being transferred to the Titan. Itâs only thanks to his initiative and Officer Boimlerâs quick thinking that weâre even alive right now.â
The sound of the warp core, buzzing in the background, seems too loud, all of the sudden. Beckett swallows, feeling sick.
âOfficer Boimler is being promoted to Captain. Iâve recommended you as his First Officer.â
Beckett doesnât realize sheâs laughing until she starts choking from it. A group of ensigns, clustered at the end of the hallway sheâs standing in, give her weird looks before quickly vacating the area.
âThat,â she says, once sheâs caught her breath, âis the dumbest fucking idea Iâve ever heard.â
Mom gives Beckett her Captainâą face.
âIâm an ensign. Lower decks. Bottom of the barrel.â Beckett continues, grinning. âNot officer material.â
âTop of your class. Present in the Dominion War. Only gets demoted because she cares more about people than rules.â Mom gives a smug smile. âPerfect match for the Cerritos.â
Thereâs a weird, hot pressure in the corner of Beckettâs eyes. âMom.â
âBoimler has a stick up his ass, he could use someone who loosens him up a little. Pays less attention to protocol,â Mom adds.
Beckett shakes her head, smiling. âIâd give him a heart attack a week in.â
âIâm counting on it. At least think about it, will you? And for godâs sake, go shower. I can see the filth on you, light years away.â
Beckett laughs, but this time itâs real. âYeah Mom, I will.â Then, âIâm glad you like. Didnât die or whatever.â
Mom rolls her eyes. âThank you, problem child. So am I. Iâll take to you later.â
The connection blacks out, leaving Beckett staring at her own dim reflection in the screen.
She does look like shit. Maybe a shower isnât a bad idea after all.
_____
The letter stays in her inbox for six unslutty days before she finally clicks on it. Turns out, even though Mom is no longer a Captain, her recommendation mustâve meant something because there it is, a nice, shiny, transfer request.
Itâs signed Captain Brad Boimler and that is where Beckett draws the line because she is not working for someone named Brad.
Maybe if you had been on the Cerritos, Shaxs wouldnât have died, a snide voice sounds in her brain. Beckett immediately shuts that voice down because thatâs fucked up and she didnât go through four years of Starfleet mandated therapy to still be fucked up.
(Sheâs still kinda fucked up, but thatâs okay.)
Dad finally starts spamming her inboxâand she really wants to know how Mom got him on her side, theyâve barely spoken since the divorceâso Beckett, with great reluctance, reviews the transfer request again.
Itâs bullshit.
âThis is bullshit,â she tells Dad.
âI know, but if I have to get one more message from your mother, demanding why you havenât taken the positionââ
âOkay, fine Iâll do it, but only because I want to see why Mom promoted Brad to Captain.â
_____
Mom either promoted Brad to Captain because he was that good of a suck up or because his hair is super distracting. Either way, Beckett is two seconds away from saying fuck this shit and demoting her own ass back to the Vulker.
He walked through the door like a minute ago and sheâs already had him pegged. His clothes are neatly pressed, hair perfectly coiffed, and his hands nervously flutter around, as if heâs unsure what he should be doing with them. He canât have been an officer longer than a few months before he was promoted Captain, thatâs for sure. Beckett literally has no idea what Mom was thinking when she gave him the chair.
She waves him down toward her table.
Brad takes one look at her unbuttoned collar, nonregulation boots, and unkempt hair and sighs. âCaptain Freeman recommended you?â his voice is disbelieving.
âThatâs the word, my dude.â Beckett leans back, eyeing him over the half empty glass of whiskey sheâs been nursing. âCaptain Brad, take a seat,â she says, in her Serious voice.
Captain Brad sits across from her. âItâs Captain Boimler, actually.â
âBradâs fine.â
His eye twitches. âOfficer Marinerââ
âEnsign,â she interrupts, cheerfully.
Brad pauses. Blinks. She gestures to the single pin in her collar.
âOh. Wait. What?â
âYeah, I was lower decks on the Vulker before Captain Freeman emotionally blackmailed me into meeting with you.â
She snaps her fingers at the bartender and gestures toward Brad while she waits for the man in question to process the fact that a lower decks ensign was being offered a First Officer promotion.
It, surprisingly, takes only a few seconds before he bounces back. âI didnât have time to look at your file,â he admits, sounding a bit frustrated. âIâm usually more on top of my work butââ
âDonât sweat it, Bradthaniel. If youâd read my file, I seriously doubt youâd have agreed to meet with me.â
He raises an eyebrow. âYou kill an Admiral or something?â
âOr something,â she agrees, mind flashing back to all of the redacted and classified sections of her file. The bartender places a glass of purple liquid in front of Brad and refills Beckettâs drink. Beckett salutes him lazily with her glass. âIâm more interested in you. Howâd you land a captaincy at, what, twenty-six?â
âTwenty-nine,â he grits out, as if that still isnât weirdly young to be that high in the chain of command. âHowâd you get Freeman to recommend you?â
âOh, I didnât,â she flips her ponytail obnoxiously. âShe called me.â
âSure.â
âWhat, am I not âFirst Officer Material?ââ she mocks, wrapping finger-quotes around her words.
He rolls his eyes. âNo offenseââ
âComplete offense already takenââ
âBut you are the least promotable person Iâve ever met.â
Beckett grins. âNow youâre getting it. We got a Bridge Crew yet?â
âIââ he blinks at her for a moment. âIâm still trying to put the rest of the Bridge Crew together, but itâs been insane lining up schedules andââ
âLeave it to me.â
âWait, what?â
âThatâs my job. You manage me, I manage the crew. Iâm basically a glorified secretary now.â
Brad looks like heâs seeing an error screen in front of his eyes. âSo, youâre taking the job,â he concludes, voice hilariously defeated.
âSomeone needs to make sure my Mâuh, Captain Freemanâs ship doesnât blow up.â
âI handled it fine the first time.â He rolls his eyes carelessly, which kind of pisses her off.
She gives him a smile. Knows it doesnât reach her eyes. âTell that to the 567 casualties.â
His face goes very pale. An incredible feat considering his already milky complexion. She canât tell if heâs angry or about to cry. âShut up. You werenât even there, how would you knowâ"
âYeah, you were there, so why the fuck didnât you do something?â she hisses. All she can see is Shaxsâ scarred face in the back her head. Sheâd been a pain in the Bridge Crewâs asses, but most of them had been genuinely upset when sheâd been transferred.
âYouâre a pain in my ass, but youâve got guts,â Shaxs had admitted once, looking impressed, which was his way of saying youâre fucking adopted go do 200 pushups.
Beckett has seen a lot of death in her 26 years, but this one hurts because this is her Momâs family. Half of them are dead and she wasnât there and fucking Brad was.
Fucking Brad is still staring at her, eyes unreadable, mouth set in a hard line. He snatches up the file and flips it open, fingers deftly shuffling through the printed-out paper documents sheâd complied last night. âIâm overseeing ship repairs tomorrow. 0500 hours. Be there.â
âWait what?â Beckett hears herself say, aware that sheâs gaping at him.
âIâll have to run these through background checks before I can approve them for transfer, and Iâd like to meet with them in person before I make any decisions.â
âDude.â
âWhat,â he snaps, eyes meeting hers defiantly.
âYouâre seriously approving my transfer?â
âDo you not want me to?â his brow furrows in confusion.
âYou called me the âleast promotable personâ like ever! I just like insulted the fuck out of you!â she whisper-shrieks. âYouâre supposed to get mad and tell me to fuck off back to whatever corner of the galaxy Freeman dragged my ass out of, not make me your First Fucking Officer.â
âWell Iâm not. Congratulations First Officer Mariner, youâre expected to report for dutyââ
âOh fuck youââ
âOn the Cerritos three weeks from now during her relaunch.â
Beckett is on the verge of stabbing this bastard in the eye with his own stylus. âBut why?â
Brad pauses, halfway out of his seat, hands still clenched tightly around the file. âWhy what?â
âDonât be fucking coy, why are you approving my transfer, you absolute nugget,â she hisses.
âCaptain Freeman recommended you.â
âAre you seriously that much of a suck upââ
âThe Cerritos isnât that great of a starship, but Captain Freeman is a good captain,â Brad interrupts. âWe went through some real shit together. She didnât deserve what happened to her. The least I can do is honor her last request.â
And with that, Brad stands up and sweeps out of the bar.
âDramatic exits are my thing!â she shouts after him.
_____
Sheâs pissed, mostly because Brad had the actual audacity to approve her transfer, but also because how fucking dare he be an actual nice person?
Okay, maybe not a nice person, she decides, as she crawls out of bed at 4 fucking thirty am. Morning people are hell spawn, but heâs a decent person.
Whatever, itâs not as if sheâs going to start liking him or trying to be his friend or whatever.
âIf it doesnât work out, I can get myself demoted in like two days,â she decides, out loud, tying her hair out of her eyes. Her reflection stares back at her, tired.
So of course, Brad is annoyingly awake.
âOf course youâre a fucking morning person,â she mutters, falling into step behind him.
âHavenât had your coffee yet?â he snips back, eyes glued to his data padd.
She glares at his back, but makes no comment.
By the time Beckett is fully awake and functioning, sheâs already dissociated three separate times and had a mini panic attack twice.
The ship is FUCKED.
The primary hull has been completely ripped apart, like something took a large bite out of the side, and both propulsion units are missing. Beckett peaks over Bradâs shoulder and gets a good look at the interior damage.
âYou guys ejected the warp core?â she shrieks in his ear. âDude that is so badass.â
Brad jumps and pushes her off him. âWhaâget off me, what are you doingââ
Beckett snatches the padd away from him and begins to rapidly scan through the damage reports. âShit, itâs going to take weeks before weâre back in space. Whatâs the ETA on getting a new core in? Oooh, we should also add reflective panels, I hear the Enterprise is so bright, nothing ever gets done on there.â
Brad snatches his padd back. âYeah, I think we can pass on that one.â
âYouâre no fun.â
âBeing a Starfleet Officer isnât supposed to be funâalthough I do find enjoyment in managing and organizing informationââ
âOh yawn, youâre a pencil pusher.â
âDid you just say âyawnâ out loud?â
âDo you need your hearing checked, Captain Brad?â
âItâs Boimler,â he hisses.
âCaptain Boimler Brad,â she corrects, easily.
He stomps off, all huffy, but whatever. Itâs not her fault Captain Brad doesnât have a sense of humor.
_____
It takes about a month for the Cerritos to get back into working condition. Beckett would be impressed with how quickly Starfleet is able to get her back in commission, except for the fact that, well. Itâs Starfleet. Theyâre great at what they do, even if what they do isnât so great.
By then sheâs already sent her Dad over seventeen furious voicemails and threatened her mother with six different kinds of legal action if she doesnât âpick up her goddamn fucking comm.â
Mom does pick up her call and she does agree to meet with her.
âThis is bullshit,â she says, after hugging the ever-living shit out of her favorite parent. âI canât believe youâre making me do this.â
Mom rolls her eyes. Itâs like looking in a mirror. âKiddo, Iâve never been able to make you do anything.â
This was probably true, but Beckett needs someone to blame. âHeâs worse than you. Or Dad. Mom he likes paperwork. Heâs a morning person. Yesterday he asked me my opinion on the Oxford comma.â
Mom makes a complicated face. Beckett suspects sheâs trying not to laugh. âThat does sound like Boimler,â she admits, sighing. âPlease tell me youâre playing nice.â
Beckett decides not to tell her about the whole âI was a bitch to him because I have no idea how to grieveâ deal. âHey, I can be nice.â
âHmm.â
âOkay, maybe Iâm giving him a hard time, but come on! You could have chosen anyone to promote. Hell, you should have picked Ransom, not transferred him!â
âRansom doesnât have the head to make tough calls.â
âAnd Brad does?â
Mom gives her a look that says she knows something Beckett doesnât. Beckett hates that look. âI think he knows what heâs doing when he forgets heâs in charge.â
âWhat the fuck does that mean?â
âIt means give him a chance before you decided to drop him in a wormhole,â is the dry response sheâs given.
Beckett makes no promises.
_____
The Cerritos leaves Starbase 375 on an uneventful day. About eighty percent of the original crew has been completely replaced, most notably, the Bridge Crew. Senior staff is now complied of Officerâs Captain Freeman had promoted before her resignation, but thereâs are a few that Beckett herself has recommended. Seems like Brad had actually taken a look at the file.
Beckett takes her seat next to Captain Brad and prepares herself for the madness thatâs going to commence from being First Officer on the lamest ship in Starfleet.
The Cerritos has been in deep space for three boring, uneventful weeks.
The only fun Beckett has found in any of it is by torturing Brad. And sheâs not even trying! Beckett just has one of those personalities that rubs well-organized people the wrong way. Yes, sometimes she thrives off chaos, and yeah she does things in her own time, but itâs just who she is.
Brad doesnât seem to appreciate any of her suggestions, calling most of them illegal and dangerous and being all shouty about it.
Heâs also a huge stickler for regulations and shit. Itâs way, way worse than working with Mom. Beckettâs about to start climbing walls from the sheer boredom of being a First Officer. The only thing she does anymore is sleep, paperwork and fight with Brad, rinse, repeat.
And then she meets Lieutenant DâVana Tendi.
The first thing Beckett thinks when she runs into the hyperactive Orion is that if Dr. TâAna had retired along with the rest of the senior crew, Tendi could have easily picked up the mantle. The girlâs a fucking prodigy, mad scientist level of genius.
The second thing Beckett thinks when she meets Tendi is I am way gayer than I thought I was.
âHey, youâre Mariner!â Tendi chirps, excitedly bouncing up to her. Dr. TâAna, who had been discussing something medical and boring with the Orion, groans and stomps off the minute she lays eyes on Beckett. Which, rude. Beckett didnât want to talk to her anyway.
âOh nice, my reputation proceeds me,â Beckett grins, brushing off her hurt. âAs does yours, Lieutenant Tendi.â
Tendiâs cheeks turn a little blue.
Thereâs an amused snort behind her. âAlready flirting with the locals, Mariner?â a familiar voice dryly asks.
Beckettâs mouth drops open. âRutherford?â
Rutherford, who was messing anxiously with a cyber implant over his eye that he definitely did not have three years ago, grins at her. âLong time, no see!â Â
Tendi whirls around. âYou know Mariner?â
âShe used to be lower decks with me,â he explains.
âYeah, back in the day,â Beckett agrees, examining her nails. âIt was pretty badass.â
Rutherford snorts and gives her a look which clearly conveys I know why you were transferred dumbass. Beckett gives him a look back and hopes it communicates to shut the fuck up.
âYou driving Boimler crazy yet?â Rutherford asks, instead of spilling her dirty secrets.
Tendi does this cute snort/giggle thing behind her Padd. âLike you havenât been present for his âdaily complain about Marinâââ
Rutherford lightly kicks Tendi who quite promptly shuts up.
Beckett frowns suspiciously at them.
âAnyway, itâs great to see you Mariner!â Rutherford continues. âCongrats on making First Officer by the way,â he adds in a tone of voice that implies that she will be telling him exactly how she had landed the position later.
âI guess my record speaks for itself.â Beckett smirks.
âUh hu,â he eyes her disbelievingly. âSee you at the bar after our shifts?â
Beckett sighs. âIâll have to pass. Brad gave me so much fucking paperwork to do that Iâll never get a day off again.â
âLook at you following the rules!â Rutherford punches the air. âI knew you had it in you. I guess Iâll see you around!â He hops off the bio-bed and heads off toward Engineering.
Tendi frowns after him. âAt least he still sounds like himself, right?â
Thatâs a weird thing to say. âHuh?â
The Orion blinks up at her, startled. âOh, you donât know? He was in an accident. Full year of his memory completely wiped. He remembers Brad, and you, I guess, but.â She looks down, defeated.
âOh.â Beckett feels squeamish at the sudden emotion present in the conversation. âThat, uh, that really sucks.â
âYeah.â Tendi shakes herself. âWell, enough buffer time, Iâd better get back to work. It was great meeting you, Mariner!â
âLikewise, Lieutenant Tendi,â Beckett flashes her most charming grin. âSee you on the Bridge?â
Tendi glances back at Dr. TâAna, whoâs impatiently glaring at them. âYeah, weâll see about that.â
_____
The next few weeks go by in rapid succession. Itâs either very very boring and leaves Mariner missing her life as a lower decks officer or itâs incredibly fast pace with weird shit that leaves her chasing the next adrenaline rush.
But of course most days itâs just Brad yelling at her.
âIf you could have your report for Second Contact with the Diququeueâs by tomorrow morning, that would be great.â
âUh huh.â
âAlso, I need you to stop trying to pet Jâviv, his culture finds it offensive.â
âSure thing.â
 âAre you even listening to what Iâm saying?!
_____
âOfficer Mariner could youâwhat the fuck are you wearing.â
âOh yeah, the Padroiques gave me this cool jacket.â
âI donât evenâwhatâMariner, go take it off!â
âBut itâs pink!â
âItâs putting hair all over my Bridge!â
âThatâs not hair itâsââ
 âOh my god just get rid of it.â
_____
âWhat the fuck was that!â
âThat was me. Doing my job. First Officer stuff.â
âThat was you practically starting a war with the Gorgonvians. Again.â
âDude, their government is super corrupt!â
âThatâs their problem! Stop antagonizing alien Ambassadors!â
_____
âWhy would you tell them to go fuck themselves?!â
âThey pissed me off!â
âI actually canât handle you right now. Get off my Bridge and go irritate someone else.â
âFine!â
âFine!â
_____
âThis isnât working,â she tells Rutherford, snatching at his drink. He gives it up with a sigh and wearily watches her down the purple liquid.
âMaybe start listening to him for once? He is the captain.â
âAnd that isnât weird to you? Dude, didnât he start out lower decks?â
This gets an eye roll out of her usually positive friend. âWe all started lower decks. Thatâs how Starfleet works.â
Beckett decides not to mention that it was definitely not how it worked for her, as that explanation would include revealing that sheâs. Well. A Starfleet brat.
âBesides, heâs been a Lieutenant for about a year now and he really handled the Parkled crisis really well. Not that I remember,â he adds, looking a little downcast.
Beckett wrinkles her nose. âWait, the Cerritos was taken down by Parkleds? No fucking way.â She pulls her data padd out and began tapping away.
âPlease donât hack any mission reââ
âToo late.â
ââports. Oh shit.â Rutherford rubs at his human eye with one hand. âSee this? This is why youâre driving Boimler up a wall.â
Beckett glares at him. âBrad needs to chill out.â
âYou need to chill out,â he corrects and then winces. âSorry, that came out mean. I mean, maybe just try being nice to him? Like whatâs the worst that could happen?â
Beckettâs eyes narrow.
_____
âHere, Jen made coffee.â
âIf youâre trying to poison meââ
âWhy would I poison you?!â
Brad gives her a deadpan stare.
âWith coffee!â she adds, for good measure. âI would never defile the godsâ nectar!â
âUgh, fine,â he snatches at the mug. âJust please stop shouting.â
_____
âI donât get it!â Beckett rants to Tendi, whoâs frowning down at her data padd like it holds the secrets of the universe. âIâm being like super chill for once and heâs still mad!â
Rutherford, whoâs doing something cool and science-y to the transporter pad, glances up. âYour version of chill involves way more stabbing than most peoples.â
Tendi nods, eyes still glued to her padd. âMaybe try not challenging Klingons to duels and Boimler will calm down.â
âUh, he challenged me and then was a sore loser. Not my fault. And I bought Brad a milkshake afterwards to make up for it!â
âBoimler did say that it was unfairly delicious,â Tendi says, pensively.
âI donât think that was a milkshake,â Rutherford mumbles.
âPoint is, why doesnât he like me yet! Everyone likes me except lame people!â
âSo, you donât think Boimler is lame anymore,â Tendi inquires, grinning at her.
âShut up, heâs the lamest.â
Rutherford and Tendi share a conspiring look. âSure.â
_____
So, Brad almost dies. And so do Tendi and Rutherford, because it seems that even though Brad is captain now, apparently the three of them are a tight little trio whoâve been getting up to no good the whole time Beckett was on the Vulker.
That explains a lot actually.
Anyway, thereâs some Away Mission nonsense and Beckett just happens to be on the Cerritos because Brad claims that sheâs too high strung and that he hasnât had enough coffee to handle her.
Whatever.
Some shit goes downâagain, Beckett isnât there and doesnât bother to find out the exact details until much much laterâthat involves Rutherford and Brad getting infected by some alien disease and suddenly Tendi is dealing with an outright war between the local Camisitites and the Federation and by the time Beckett gets their asses beamed back onto the Cerritos, itâs almost too late.
Rutherford is going to be fine, thanks to his cyborg implants but Brad isnât looking too hot which means Beckett is Acting Captain.
Fucking great.
It takes her maybe two, three days tops to settle everything out with the irate Camisitite nation and find a cure, but it all works out in the end.
âIf you want a Missions Report you can have it after Iâve taken a shower,â she informs a groggy Brad. He blinks up at her from his bio-bed, taking in her disheveled hair, bloodstained shirt, and exhausted expression.
ââŠcool,â he mutters. âGo away.â
She scoffs at him, dragging a seat up. âIâm good here, actually.â
Brad wakes himself up enough to give her a half-hearted scowl. âDo you ever do as youâre told?â
âNot really, no.â She examines her nails. âYour fault for signing my transfer.â
âSo this has all been punishment? Because a good person talked you into a nice, well paying job that I signed off on. I donât get you.â
âI donât get you,â she retorts. âCommand fucking sucks. It was way cooler when I was an ensign.â
âBut youâre really good at it,â he says, surprised. âYouâre smart and badass and like way better at everything than everyone else.â
âWait what?â
âYou could have everything! And youâre just wasting it? Do you want me to kick you off ship?â
âMaybe!â
âWell Iâm not going to!â
âWhy not?!â
He glares at her sullenly. âFigure it out yourself, if youâre so smart.â
_____
âI canât figure it out!â she snaps, resuming her wild pacing.
Rutherford, who looks like his unending patience is finally, for once, running out, sighs.
(People seem to be doing that a lot around her recently.)
âFigure what out, Mariner?â
âWhy did the bastard make me his First Officer?â
âMaybe heâs hot for you,â Tendi suggests, eyebrows wiggling up and down. Beckett shoves her face away.
âShut up, no way.â
âJust ask him?â Rutherford suggests.
âI did! Like twice! First time he gave me stupid answer and second time he deflected.â
âHe gave it to you because he likes you, dummy,â Rutherford says, giving her a friendly shove. âNot like that,â he adds, as Tendi began make kissy faces. âBut like. He thinks youâre cool.â
âHe thinks Iâm cool,â Beckett parrots, unimpressed.
âYou are pretty cool,â Tendi agrees. âYou like kick everyoneâs ass and are super smart and you have street cred.â
âStreet cred,â Beckett repeats, trying not to laugh. âYeah, weâll go with that.â
âPoint is,â Rutherford went on. âHe thinks youâre cool. And you know what? I think you think heâs pretty cool.â
Beckett makes a face. âI do not, take that back.â
âYou think itâs impressive that Freeman promoted him and it has you all pissy because she threw you off the ship, but you secretly think heâs smart and you think itâs funny that he gets all tied up in knots over protocol,â Rutherford summarizes.
âWhat are you, my therapist?â Beckett snaps.
âIâm youâre friend. And I think you could be his too if you tried?â
Beckett groans, dropping her face into Tendiâs shoulder. âFine maybe youâre a little bit right. He hates me though.â
âTrust me, he doesnât hate you,â Rutherford says, grin in her voice. âYou annoy the fuck out of him, sure. But he likes you plenty or heâd have gotten rid of you already.â
âSo what do I do?â she mumbles into Tendiâs uniform.
âGo apologize, dumbass,â Tendi advises, shrugging her off her shoulder.
âUgh.â
_____
She finds him laying on one of the Observation Deck floors, a half-drained bottle of blue substance beside him. Before she can change her mind, she flops down into a seated position next to him. Theyâre drifting through hyperspace, creating that weird blue effect as their ship speeds past distant stars.
Beckett takes a swig of his contraband, grimacing at the bitter taste.
âI have no idea what Iâm doing,â he says, staring blankly out into space.
Beckett feels surprise at his admissionâyeah, this man is a bit of a wreck, but he seemed to the type of guy whose contingency plans had contingency plansâbut decides not to show it.
âCongrats dumbass, neither to the rest of us.â
Brad frowns. âYou always know what youâre doing.â
This actually coaxes a surprised laugh out of her. She collapses backward, laying on the cold deck beside him. âThatâs where youâre definitely wrong, dude. I never know what Iâm going to do until I do it. Could be committing arson today, could adopt one of those turtle-puppies we saw on Karklon III last week, the list goes on. Weâre Starfleet Officers, we have to be flexible about shit,â she adds, turning her head look at him.
He continues to stare straight ahead of him. âI think you make a better Captain.â
Okay, so heâs in a brutally honest mood. She can chill with that.
âI think Iâd get us killed in a week,â she counters, truthfully. âIâm way too impulsive to be in charge. For every badass rule breaker, we need pencil pushing stickler, ya know?â
âSo what,â Brad turns his head to the side, squints at her skeptically. âNow you want to work together?â
She drops her chin into the palm of her hand, leaning on her elbow. âIâm just saying, maybe I could get myself demoted back to the fucking Vulkner again and maybe you resign your position and become one of those sad sad researchers that get eaten by their own plants and Starfleet discovers your remains six years later when they have to find a cure for a face-eating parasite or whatever. Or,â she continues, before he can interrupt, all pissy, âmaybe you need to loosen up, and maybe I need to suck up to command a bit more.â
Itâs the closest to an apology as heâs going to get from her.
(Heâs been kind of a bitch too, and they both know it.)
Brad turns back to the windowâif you can call the entire wall being made of glass a windowâand sighs.
âI guess it couldnât hurt to give it a shot,â he musesâhis version of an apology as well, she notesâand then adds, âI can always demote you.â
âHa! You couldnât last a day in the chair without me and you know it,â she replies, smugly. âYou pretend like you want constant order and everything to be perfectly organized and on schedule, but I know the truth.â
âReally now?â he dryly says. âAnd whatâs that.â
She grins, leaning in. âYouâre secretly a rebel.â
âFuck off.â
âPffft, I saw your eye twitching during our report to Admiral Travional. You were practically begging me to spill my coffee on him.â
âOkay, I did not tell you to do thatââ
âOh, and that sexy, sexy moment when Tendi punched Captain Lohnersen out? You never once wrote her up forââ
âHe was harassing her, I wasnât going to write her up when he clearly was disrespectingââ
Beckett dangles the bottle of ale in front of him. âWhy Captain Brad. Is this. Gasp! Contraband?!â
Brad laughs, snatching the bottle away from her. âI found it in your quarters.â
âAnd just what were you doing in my quarters, my good sir?â
âIâll have you know I was dropping off paperwork. That you still havenât done. From three weeks ago.â
âAnd you just swiped it off my desk. Tsk, tsk.â
âConfiscated it,â he corrects, still grinning up at her. âFor research purposes, of course.â
âOf course.â Beckett grabs the bottle again. Takes another swig. âSurprised youâre still conscious. This shit can blind you, ya know.â
âYeah, I know.â He grabs the bottle back. âSo maybe slow down.â
She rolls her eyes because she has clearly proven numerous times that she can hold her liquor but decides not the start anything. Itâs weird, getting along with Brad, but notâŠunpleasant.
âHey,â she says, poking his shoulder. âIâm glad you didnât die.â
His face looks pinched. âThanks for not letting me die,â he replies, suddenly wary.
She scoffs. âLike Iâd let anyone die under my watch.â
Brad sits up. âYou mean like I did.â
âOh.â Beckett blinks at him. âOh shit. Dude, I was just being an asshole then, I didnât mean it.â
âBut you werenât wrong. If I had been smarter orââ
âDude, you cannot think like that,â Beckett grabs his shoulders and makes uncomfortably steady eye-contact. âEven if I had been on the Cerritos when shit went down, I donât think I could have saved him. You guys were on a time crunch with no backup and Iâm surprised Rutherford survived the explosion.â
Bradâs eyebrows furrow. âWhaâdid you read Freemanâs Mission Report? I told you to stopââ
She waves him off. Â âDoesnât matter. Point is, stop beating yourself up over it. And stop letting assholes like me make you feel bad,â she adds, as an afterthought.
âOnly if you stop challenging people to duels in the Jefferies Tubes,â he counters.
âDeal,â she lies. âYou should get in on some of those duels, though. You seem like a sword guy.â
âI canât even tell if thatâs a euphemism or not,â he mumbles. âAre we cool?â
âThe coolest,â she confirms. âAt least until you see my Missions Report.â
Brad sighs deeply and flops back down. âIâm not even worrying about that right now.â
âGood, because I definitely broke like every protocol ever.â
âOf course you did.â
âAnd I told the Camisititeâs to call me Captain Mariner, First of her Name.â
âOh my godââ
âAnd I challenged their leader to a duel.â
âMariner what the fuck.â Â
#reblog for the non ao3 users#tumblr reblog#my fanfiction#star trek lower decks#beckett mariner#brad boimler#d'vana tendi#sam rutherford#carol freeman#marinler#first officer au#star trek
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Death Note Audio Drama 01
Disk 1: Pattern Recognition - a summary / partial translation
The Death Note audio drama is a German audiobook production that is officially licensed, but has been written and produced without any further involvement from the Japanese copyright holders. A Japanese release is, as such, not planned. An English release was announced in 2017 and has since never received any more news nor a release date announcement.
The audio drama starts of pretty benign as a retelling of the manga with some changed facts and dialogues.... and eventually full-on diverges from the plot and leads to a completely alternative ending. Itâs pretty wild for officially licensed media. Wild enough to absolutely warrant being shared with the English-speaking fandom at large.
Since the whole drama is 12 hours in total in 12 disks (covering roughly one manga volume each), I wonât be able to provide a full translation and instead will summarize the less juicy bits while doing a full translation of anything funny or interesting.Â
All future episodes will be found in this tag on my blog.
Without further ado, letâs begin.
We open to the sound of someone typing.
LIGHT: Something is rotten. Post-modern. Post-truth. Post-Justice. Day in day out, the same lies in endless repetition. Killers get away with murder. Drug dealers sell poison to children. The world is drowning in its own filth. The world is infected with corruption. I am the cure. I am the--
A knocking sound.
SACHIKO (muffled): Dinner is ready, dear!
LIGHT (groans, but then goes on): I am the surgeon who cuts out the cancer, I am the--
More knocking.
SACHIKO: Itâs your favourite dish!
LIGHT: One second, mom!Â
SACHIKO: Are you talking to your friends online again?
LIGHT: Itâs fine, mom, Iâm coming!
SACHIKO: Hurry up, itâs getting cold.
______
We cut to a scene of the task force entering the school in which Kuroh Otoharada has taken children hostage. The scene is fairly simple. Someone (I think Matsuda?) is pretty violently insistent on shooting Otoharada if necessary. They find Otoharada dead in the bathroom.Â
______
Ryuk, who has a voice like a friendly fat little man narrating fairytales, tells us the rules of the Death Note. We cut to Light coming home and giving Sachiko his test results. They cut out the whole ânumber one in the nationâ and simply changed it to top grades in a nation-wide test exam. Probably because Germany doesnât have ranking lists like that at all.
_______
A TV report about Otoharada is playing. A lady named Noriko Takai is trying to interview Matsuda about the incident. Matsuda refers her to the upcoming pref-conference, but admits that Otoharada died of a heart attack.
_______
Typing noises again.
LIGHT: To all those who are interested... If you are reading this text, something went wrong. If you are reading this, I might even be dead. In that case, dear me, dear Light Yagami. This is your younger self. In case youâve forgotten everything, this story may be hard to believe, yet every word is true. Yeah... You found a notebook on the school grounds. Yeah... It claimed to have the power of bringing death to anyone you name in it. And yeah... you laughed about it. You were thinking of a prank. However... you couldnât resist, am I right? You wrote the name of this guy from the school hostage taking and he died. But it could have been a coincidence. So you tried again. And what you saw, scared you. But in the same moment, you understood the power you had. So you ran home into your room and the confirmation was already waiting for you. With his claws, and glowing devilâs eyes.
________
Ryuk is indeed in Lightâs bedroom. The meeting dialogue is largely very similar to the manga. However, this snippet happens....
LIGHT: I didnât expect something so---
RYUK: Something so demonic? Iâm hurt. Iâm quite the catch for a denizen of the netherworld. I could be a sex god, if I wasnât so good with death.
Ryuk elaborates that the notebook now belongs to Light, that nobody can see him, that he wasnât chosen, that the shinigami world is boring... yadda yadda, we know this from the anime already. Light says his famous âif someone dies, does that make me a murderer?â line and Ryuk just says âof course it does.â Another funny Ryuk line: âYou killed someone else too? Awww, youâre my man.â
________
In a flashback Light walks Shinjuku. Takuo Shibuimaru shows up and Light kills him, hurray.Â
Back in the present:
RYUK: Fantastic. You killed this guy for flirting with a woman?
LIGHT: She wanted to be left alone.
RYUK: Alllright, social justice warrior. But isnât that a little... strict?
Light launches into a speech about his ambitions. Ryuk keeps pointing out that he is afraid. Light gets annoyed at being condescended, since Ryuk is the one who gave him the weapon in the first place. However, he also admits to being scared. But still, someone needs to do it. But who else could do it, if not him? Etc, etc, etc. HE WILL MAKE A BETTER WORLD.
_______
A TV segment about the early Kira deaths. The chief prosecutor is under fire for treating prisoners badly, since people assume the prisoners died of bad food in prison. Other people deny that this is how it is, because they assume that bad food would have more than 3 victims. Someone else assumes it is the will of God. Some other guy is praising whoever does the killing in a flippant and humorous tone. The interviewer criticizes him for these views.
________
L: Come in, Watari, come in.Â
WATARI: I thought you might already be in bed, Mr. L. Itâs fairly late.
L: No sleep, no, not sleeping. Canât sleep.Â
WATARI: How much coffee did you...
L: Thereâs a killer on the loose, Watari!
WATARI: That is always the case, Mr. L.
L: No, this time itâs different. Different, you understand? I looked at the data, check it out. Heart attacks going through the roof.
WATARI: The deaths among criminals? Wasnât that about the food?
L: No, it canât be the food, when itâs taking place so hand-picked and world-wide. These people canât all have been poisoned by the same dose. What do the deaths have in common...? The only connection really appears to be that all of them are criminals...
WATARI: You are a master in pattern recognition, L. Youâre famous for it.Â
L (laughs): Famous, yeah. We have to contact interpol. I looked at the data. Someone is killing criminals by the dozens. We need to talk to interpol.
WATARI: They had a conference announced for later today anyway. Well... tomorrow. In their time.
L: Time? Time zones, of course!Â
WATARI: Mr. L...?Â
L: Letâs look back at the data for a moment.Â
_______
Ryuk is impressed by how many people Light killed. Light admits to getting nightmares due to it, but he also is determined about his mission. He explains his idea of heart attacks leading to recognition of the pattern. Ryuk is pretty flippant about Lightâs plan, saying he is the only danger to mankind.
_______
Nature noises.
WATARI: Are we working in the park now, Mr. L?
L: I need to stay on the move. Change wifi hotspots.
WATARI: Isnât that a little... paranoid?
L: In the face of a killer who can kill from a distance? No, itâs only appropriate. Completely appropriate. Watari... You need to create a filter. Something to distort my voice over the phone.Â
WATARI: Thatâll be done in no time, Mr. L.
L now explains his initial idea of how to catch the killer. He asks WHEN someone would use their power to kill and concludes that theyâd do it after work before bed, in free time timeframes. L assumes someone would likely kill between 4pm and 2am, but which timezone? 78% of people die in that timeframe, in GMT-10. Thus L narrows it down to countries in that timezone for a start. And he also wants to factor in weekends, holidays, other free time events... for all those countries, to narrow it down with reference to the 32% of killings done at other times.Â
_______
The interpol meeting is in session. The French representative argues that if the assumption is that this is black magic or something, then it isnât under their jurisdiction. After all there are no laws about magic or cursing people. The US representative and meeting leader explains that there werenât any laws about cyber crimes (or even a concept of cyber crimes) either before there were computers. Thus she argues in favor of investigating.Â
________
RYUK: I mean, I love it. Donât get me wrong, Iâm a god of death and you are basically my dedicated intern.
LIGHT: Canât you just---
RYUK: I will just do what I feel like. You canât write my name into my own book. I am practically the only living being on this planet that is pretty much safe from you. And thatâs exactly why Iâm asking: when is it over? I look at you, putting on airs full of significance, how youâre killing the killers, the rapists, the serial killers.... You declared yourself the highest arbiter.Â
LIGHT: Someone has to do it. Someone has to tidy up!
RYUK: And what happens when youâre done with murderers? Tax evaders? Jaywalkers? Two hairdressers having a brawl at a bar? Where do you draw the line after which the world is cleansed? Let me tell you something. This world has always been a cesspit.Â
LIGHT: Iâll know it when it happens.
RYUK: Or when someone stops you.
LIGHT: Oh come on, whoâs supposed to find me?
______
Back at Interpol, theyâre debating the need for an international task force. Soichiro suggests bringing in L. French representative is just like âoooh, youâre calling a mystery to solve a mystery?â. Who L is gets explained.
Watari comes in and explains that L is already on the case. Lâs message is played. He wants cooperation from the police.
______
A TV report about further killings. A different channel, a religious speaker claims the final days have come. A different channel again, a stand-up comedian talks about the Kira case and jokes that if all killers gets killed nobody would be left to run the government. Says heâd love to do it, but he smoked weed as a college student, so heâs probably on the list too....
Yet another channel recalls that the most popular theory about the killing has religious qualities and that people online are talking of âKira, the saviourâ.Â
Light turns off the audio on the TV and Ryuk complains.
RYUK: They assume Kira is male... How sexist.
Light is currently busy googling âKiraâ. Light complains that people donât manage to spell âKillerâ correctly, if that is what they mean to say. Ryuk is the one who brings up how âyou Japaneseâ swap L and R and thus explains the name.
Then the Lind L. Tailor broadcast happens and Ryuk tells Light to put the audio back on. Â
______
The Task Force is discussing the broadcast. Matsuda thought L would be more self-assured and less... reading his text off flash cards. He then realizes the name sounds familiar to him and looks it up.Â
______
Light talks to Ryuk about writing Tailorâs name and does so. He dies.
LIGHT: Oopsiedaisy, heart attack.
Lâs voice picks right back up. Light is confused and angry. L explains the scheme. The taunt proceeds as in the manga.
_____
Matsuda is just like âI tried to tell you, boss. Tailor was on death rowâ.
______
There is actually noises of Light breaking things in his room as he gets mad about this. Ryuk tells him to calm down. L disconnects on TV.
RYUK: Mic drop. Rock ânâ Roll.
LIGHT: Shut up.
______
Matsuda and Soichiro have their conversation about Lâs stunt and also Kira lowering crime rate while Soichiro is rushing to catch the train home.
______
SAYU: Oh no, not curry again....
SACHIKO: Sayu, you love curry, you---
SAYU: That was when I was 6, mom! It makes you fat.
SACHIKO: Donât be silly, dearie.
LIGHT: Everything makes you fat, if you eat too much of it.
SACHIKO: Thanks, Light. At least one person in this family uses his brain. You get that from your dad.
As if on cue, Soichiro comes home. He is delighted about the curry. Talks about the Kira case. He also brings up the idea of Kira being a teenager. Light chokes on his curry quite lengthily at that.Â
______
Ryuk expresses his surprise at Soichiro leading the investigation. Light comes up with his plan to change the time of death.
______
L calls Soichiro and Soichiro gives him the news that Kira now kills hourly. L declares people connected to the investigators to be suspects.
______
The US Interpol representative and Watari are meeting for coffee, though Watari does not get coffee because it messes with his heart-rate. Watari requests the FBI to supervise in Japan. Specifically the FBI because the CIA might include a mole. The FBI meanwhile is meant for inland and thus not yet related to the case and can function as external. The representative is pretty shocked and initially refuses, based on the rules for the FBI.Â
______
Three detectives leave the case because they donât want to risk their lives by fighting Kira.Â
______
Watari informs L that the FBI has agreed to investigate. L has already looked into the suspect pool via social media. Related to investigators, 16-24, only in the Kanto region....Â
______
Ryuk informs Light of someone tailing him. Itâs a lengthy dialogue but very canon-close and not super interesting.
LIGHT: If this is the police....
RYUK: Youâll put up your hands and surrender?
LIGHT: Iâm going to have to kill them. All of them.
RYUK: Yeah, thatâs what I thought.
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Being conscious
Illusion
Mystics talk at length about the illusory nature of this world and our existence in it. They use a variety of graphic words to describe it: dream, falsehood, shadow, sham, illusion, unreality, mirage. What do they mean when they describe our life and our world this way? Isnât my body real? My house? My wife and children? Mountains and oceans?
Letâs look at the many ways in which the mystics tell us that everything we see, touch, and value so highly is, from their perspective, illusory.
The world is illusory because itâs impermanent
Someone once asked Hazur Maharaj Charan Singh:
Q: We are told that this whole business is a dream. Would you comment on that; what you mean by that? Master: Well, it is a dream in the sense that thereâs no reality in this body â and so the dream consists of 50, 60, 70, 80 years. Where are our forefathers, where are they now? Havenât they quit the stage? It was just like a dream; they came and went away. They donât exist anymore; they donât exist permanently. Anything which doesnât exist permanently is just like a dream.1
That was always Hazurâs primary way of defining what made this body and our existence like a dream â that it was impermanent. He would say that, in contrast, reality or truth was permanent and unchanging. So this world and our life in it were obviously not real, because theyâre so short-lived and changeable.
He continued:
Our past relationships, the role which we played in the last life as a husband, as a wife, as a child, as a friend, isnât that a dream to us? Where are they? Weâve forgotten everyone. It was just like a dream. So this will also become a dream after we leave this body. Thereâs no reality. Saints say thereâs no reality to that which you are attaching so much importance. A real thing always exists â it doesnât perish, it is stable.
Then he said: âWeâre all in a dreamland. We have to be awakened from this dream and find the reality, and when you are with the reality then you will know that you have got to get up from this dream â not before that.â
What does he mean by âwhen you are with the realityâ? Perhaps he means in the Masterâs presence, where the influence of the Guru changes our perception enough so that we can see this world more clearly? Or when we are able, in our meditation, to bring the attention higher and begin to escape from the world of duality? He says we only really understand that we have to awaken from the dream when weâve at least temporarily escaped its influence.
Finally he concluded: âMystics want to explain to us not to give so much importance to all these things because theyâre not going to last. Theyâre going to leave you.â
The egoâs belief in its separate existence is an illusion Another key source of the illusion we live in is the essential error in how we see ourselves. At the deepest level, each of us thinks, âI am me and I am separate from everyone else and separate from God.â That is the ego speaking, a part of our mind that is responsible for creating an imaginary barrier between our soul and the Father.
Guru Nanak Sahib describes, from a very high perspective â one that is outside time and above this physical plane â how we cycle through life after life, caught in the delusion created by the ego. That delusion or illusion, though not real, still has the effect of binding us to this world. He said:
Each one from ego takes his birth, And clad in ego dies; And comes and goes, Gives and receives, and earns and spends, And deals in lies or speaks the truth, In ego all the while. 2
âIn ego all the whileâ: Everything, everything we do, he says, is tainted by ego, that sense of being a separate self. But despite this powerful illusion and its repercussions, âwe are in fact not separate from the Lord and never have been. But our mind and ego convince us that we are, and we have to escape that illusion before we can surrender our being into His.â 3
Maya draws its power from our unfulfilled longing for the Lord
For reasons we cannot understand, the Lord sent us out from his kingdom ages ago, into this strange existence we find ourselves in. We were given bodies and minds, and the ego developed. But underneath all those coverings, we have always carried deeply embedded memories of him. The mystics tell us that every desire, every need we feel is an expression of our native hunger for God, that yearning to end our separation and return to him. But our mind corrupts that pure longing and tries to satisfy it with impermanent and petty things.
Hazrat Inayat Khan says:
[A manâs] mind, his reason, always puts forward some other cause for his unhappiness rather than the real one, in order that he may be kept in illusion all his life, in order that all his life he should run after things which are not the real aim of his soulâŠ.And if the whole universe were given to him, his heart would not be satisfied, because the demand of his soul still has not been understood.3
And according to Idries Shah:
People, Rumi teaches, do not really know what they want. Their inner yearning is expressed in a hundred desires, which they think are their needs. These are not their real desires, as experience shows. For when these objectives are attained, the yearning is not stilled.4
So maya, in a sense, perverts our natural yearning for the Lord into lust, greed, gluttony and whatnot. The desires of the mind are all based on a false premise â that if we satisfy them, the craving will stop. But of course the mind is never satisfied, because it doesnât get what it really misses. And the desires are almost irresistible. A disciple needs to beware of them his or her whole life.
The body is illusory Letâs look next at another seemingly solid pillar of reality â our body. The mystics see it as utterly ephemeral, nothing but a dream, and they encourage us to realize how short-lived it is and to prepare for its end.
The mystic-poet Eknath says, âYour body is the shadow of a cloud, the water of a mirage â passing, unreal.â5 And then:
The body goes in a moment, â but we donât believe it. A ripple on water â this is the world. A mirage of water is not water, â the shadow of a cloud gives no rain. A statue of salt dissolves in water â â this body is dying while you look at it, â says Eknath.6
And yet we donât believe weâre going to die. Thereâs a story about a minister who began a sermon on death by saying, âEveryone in this congregation is going to die.â As he scanned the audience to see the effect of his words, he noticed a man in the front with a big smile on his face. He asked the man, âWhy are you smiling, given what Iâve just said?â The man replied, âIâm not from this congregation!â
We use any excuse to fool ourselves!
Saints see the entire arc of a bodyâs existence, from embryo to corpse, as the briefest flash. They also see the whole range of our past incarnations, all the many bodies we have inhabited. So how can they take this particular body seriously? They warn us to look higher and not get caught in the bodyâs dream.
Although the body is a dream, it is a magical gift Although the physical body can indeed be a trap and is an illusion, it also carries within it the secrets and power of the Shabd, the divine energy that permeates the universe, which transcends all illusion and is the ultimate truth, the ultimate reality. In a way, the body is a sort of Trojan horse. Kal, the negative power, created this creation so cunningly that every aspect of a human being is surrounded by maya, so the poor human is trapped. But the Lord hid himself within the human body in the form of Shabd, and is there to sustain the soul and, when a Master appears, awaken the soul and help it escape.
Hazur once said, âSister, it is better to treat this whole life just as a dream and during the dream try to find out the reality which is within every one of us.â7
So during the dream, we need to discover the ultimate reality inside ourselves. The saint Bahinabai says:
Only within this dream of a body â can you awaken to Truth and rest in the One.⊠If you walk the way of a teacher of Truth, â youâll reach the Real through the unreal.8
Sheâs saying that to reach the real (the Shabd, the Lord) we have to use the unreal (this body), and, of course, we have to have a Master. And the Master contains that same dichotomy â his Shabd form is real, but his physical form is unreal, is maya, as he has been saying. So again, we reach the real through the unreal.
Another mystic speaks on the enormous value of this strange lump of flesh we inhabit:
What a treasure has been placed in your hand! Unlucky souls turn this treasure to dust â â this body that holds the essence of all goodness, â this body that holds a library of scriptures, â this body that breathes true holiness into holy places. Kanhoba says, Nothing can compare â with being born human.9
So in this amazing device, this pot of filth and temple of divine love, we have to find the real while immersed in the unreal.
Are we wake or asleep? A story goes like this:
A disciple met with his Master to discuss the nature of liberation and to ask about the position adopted by those who attain it. The disciple asked: âMaster, how is it possible that a liberated human being can remain at peace when faced with the tragedies suffered by humanity?â The Master said, âImagine you are sleeping and that you dream that you are in a boat with a lot of other passengers. Suddenly the boat hits a rock and starts to sink. In your distress, you wake up. Would you go back to sleep in order to warn the other passengers that the boat is sinking?10
Now, this is not to say that masters arenât compassionate. They are supremely tender-hearted and feel for the suffering that beings undergo in this world. But they have a higher perspective, which helps to answer the common question, âHow could a loving God create a world that contains so much suffering?â They say that human beings are, in effect, dreaming their existence and their suffering. As Baba Ji has told us, only the Shabd is real; everything else is illusion.
Mystics say that the problem isnât with the creation, but with our perception of it. Hazur once said that the creation looks perfect to the perfect one. The bottom line is that the masters are trying to wake us up from the dream so we can share their higher perception.
Scienceâs argument against the illusion of this physical world Letâs consider our situation from the perspective of a modern physicist. It turns out that physicists also argue that we are living in an illusion.
They say that each of us is made up of about 50 trillion cells. Each of those cells contains 20 trillion atoms. Each atom, when looked at closely, consists of a lot of sub-atomic particles, but each sub-atomic particle, if looked at closely, consists of nothing but energy. So, we are in effect, nothing but energy. What we see when we look at ourselves or at another person or object is just an energy field, an illusion of solidity that is in fact almost entirely empty space, with just a certain amount of energy creating the illusion of substance. 11
For example, if you expanded an atom to the space taken up by a football stadium, the nucleus would be the size of a marble sitting in the middle of the field, and the much smaller electrons would be whizzing around at the outer reaches of the stadium. Everything else would be just empty space. Not much there! But very convincing to our senses.
Hazur Maharaj Ji once had the following interchange with a disciple:
Q: Is this world really here or is it a dream world? Master: This world is perishable. You will not be able to stay with this world forever. This world is perishable.
Q: Does it really exist? Master: It exists in a manner of speaking. When you are in a dream, everything looks real to you. When you wake up from a dream, then only you realize that there was actually no reality at all. It was just a dream. While being in this world, we think it is absolutely real. When we leave this world, then we know it was just a dream.
Q: Are we in the world or arenât we? Master: At this time we are dreaming! When we wake up from this dream, then we will know that this world is perishable. 12
So thatâs a good transition from talking about all the different forms of illusion to asking why it matters and what we do about it.
Why do the mystics emphasize the illusory nature of this world, this body, this life? Essentially, they are trying to wake us up, to shake us out of this trance induced by maya, in which weâre completely seduced by the world â its pleasures; its promises of wealth, power, and fame; and its horrors, which fascinate us so intensely that we canât take our eyes off them. The saints keep telling us not to get sucked into the show of this world: itâs only a very compelling reality show, but itâs not Reality. Turn your attention, they say, away from the reality show to not Reality. Thatâs why Baba Ji has told us to be serious about our meditation but not take life too seriously.
But we donât want to wake up; weâre absolutely glued to the screen of life and canât tear our attention away. And weâre so dead asleep that we donât even realize it most of the time.
Fortunately, our master is not content to let us sleep. He will wake us up. And thatâs the single most important lesson from this discussion â that we will never wake up from the dream, we will never see through these myriad layers of illusion, without the assistance of a living master, someone who is awake, someone who exists outside the fog of illusion.
In her book The Case for God, Karen Armstrong, a writer and former Roman Catholic nun, retold this famous story:
One day a Brahmin priest came across the Buddha sitting in contemplation under a tree and was astonished by his serenity, stillness, and self-discipline. âAre you a god, sir?â the priest asked. âAre you an angel ⊠or a spirit?â No, the Buddha replied. He explained that he had simply revealed a new potential in human nature. It was possible to live in this world of conflict and pain at peace and in harmony with oneâs fellow creatures. âRemember me,â the Buddha told the curious priest, âas one who is awake.â 13
So our master is constantly shaking us in various ways, to try to get us to open our eyes and wake up from this dream, this illusion. And he urges us, prods us, tries desperately to persuade us to do our meditation with all the intensity, love, and commitment that we can muster, as thatâs the only path to awakening to Reality.
And what is that Reality? The Shabd or divine power or Name. The Shabd or Name is God in action, and it takes physical form as our master. The Shabd or Name is the power that will save us from this world.
As the mystic Narhari taught:
A painter strokes his brush on a wall â â this is the world, nothing real here. Children build houses of sand, â then knock them down and go home. Everyone does their work here â â they love it as their own so they take it to be true. If you really want to achieve something real, â just repeat the Name, says Narhari, and stay close to the mystics.14
Illusion - RSSB Satsangs & Essays
Mystics talk at length about the illusory nature of this world and our existence in it. They use a variety of gr...
Maharaj Charan Singh, Spiritual Perspectives, Vol. I, #39
Quoted in Divine Light, 7th ed., p.32-33
RS Greetings, Autumn 2001, p.9
Idries Shah, The Sufis, p.140
Many Voices, One Song, p.260
Ibid., p.208
Maharaj Charan Singh, Tape of 2 December, 1988, Question 10
Many Voices, One Song, p.147
Ibid., p.143
Quoted in Spiritual Link, March 2009, pp.24-25; from 101 Cuentos Clasicos de la India, comp. Ramiro Calle,
Much of this was drawn from a 2011 TED talk by Jeff Lieberman on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0--_R6xThs
Spiritual Perspectives, Vol. I, #18
Karen Armstrong, The Case for God, p.330
Many Voices, One Song, p.166
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Pretty Moans
Genre:Â SMUT. FILTHY FILTHY SMUT. and fluffy aftercare
Word Count: 3744
Warnings: This is filth, a fuck ton of teasing, gags, handcuffs, jimin is flexible, vibrators and shit, a mountain of filth, i am ashamed of myself, disgustingly fluffy aftercare. Youâve been warned.
Jimin whimpered pathetically under Namjoonâs touch. Eyes screwed shut in concentration, he tried to be as quiet as possible.
âCome on, baby, donât hold back. You know how much I love hearing your pretty moans.â
A strangled groan. Jimin twisted in the sheets, desperate to get as far away and also as close to the torturous pleasure as possible.
âTheyâre embarrassing.â He barely managed to get those two words out before he clenched his jaw and exhaled heavily through his nose, Namjoon purposefully assaulting his most sensitive parts to get a vocal reaction. Seeing that Jimin was determined not to make noise, Namjoon pulled his hand away and smirked at Jiminâs unintelligible begging to continue.
âWhy is it embarrassing, Jiminie?â Namjoon questioned, ignoring the small pleas to be touched again.
Jimin huffed in frustration. âEverybody living around us looks at me weird,â he whined.
âTheyâre just jealous that they donât get laid as hard as you do.â
âBut Iâm too loudâŠwe get noise complaints sometimes,â he said in a small voice.
Immediately, Namjoon took hold of Jiminâs flushed cock and jerked him off fast and hard. Jimin screamed, legs squeezing together, violently arching off the bed, handcuffs clanking against the bed rails. His shirt slid up his chest to reveal his stomach, a thin layer of fat hugging hard muscle.
Namjoon let go after a few unsatisfying seconds, and Jimin collapsed back onto the mattress, panting and pouting.
âThey donât matter, Jiminie,â he assured, using a finger to collect the precum coating the head of Jiminâs cock. âSay âahâ, baby boy.â Namjoon nodded with approval when Jimin obeyed. He smirked, drinking in the sight of the pink tongue occasionally peeking out from between plush lips, stroking delicately along the finger in its mouth.
âLetâs not tease each other, hmm?â Namjoon suggested. His palm ran lightly over Jiminâs length. âYou give me what I want.â Jiminâs hips were stuttering up into his touch, but Namjoon kept his hand just far enough to draw out a muffled groan. âIâll give you what you want.â
Jimin nodded furiously in agreement.
Pleased with the cooperation, Namjoon left from his position of nearly sitting on top on Jimin and left the room in silence for several agonizing minutes. Exasperated, Jimin twisted onto his stomach as far as he could with his arms secured above him and began to rut into the mattress.
Finally being able to satisfy the tension felt so good.
He knew he shouldnât be doing this. Every touch belonged to Namjoon, if he were to get caught it would be-
âBabyâs hungry, I see.â
Jimin froze in shame.
âNo, donât stop. Keep going.â
Confused, Jimin gave an experimental thrust into the sheets.
âGo on. Fuck it like you were just a moment ago. Show me how desperate you are.â
Jimin slowly began moving his hips again, suspicious of Namjoonâs intent, but far more fearful of the outcome if he refused to listen. A harsh smack over his ass drew out a pained cry and spurred him to move faster.
âI told you to fuck it. Donât play games with me,â Namjoon warned in a low voice. He watched with disappointment as Jimin rolled his hips in silence broken only by an occasional sigh. He was still vigilantly holding back. Brat.
âStop,â Namjoon commanded, halting him right as he began to chase after his own orgasm. Jimin moaned in frustration, unsuccessfully attempting to gather what self control he had left, but his hips were slow to listen. Namjoon smacked him again, harder, and he watched Jimin kick his legs in pain.
âYou really donât want to listen,â Namjoon concluded. He flipped Jimin onto his back, handcuffs clattering into each other as he snatched away the satisfaction of friction. âI thought we had a deal, Jimin. Itâs a shame really.â Namjoon looked at him with irritation and noticed the tears running down Jiminâs face.
Namjoonâs expression immediately changed.
âDo you know why Iâm doing this, baby?â he asked in a soft tone, wiping away the tear streaks. Jimin shook his head. A few more tears fell in frustration.
âBaby, Iâm sorry,â Namjoon apologized and cradled Jiminâs cheek. âDo you want a hint?â
Jimin nodded.
âWhat do I want, baby? You turn me on so much, with almost everything you do, but thereâs something that really gets to me, baby.â
Jiminâs eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
âCome on, I know you can do it,â he encouraged.
Jimin looked up at Namjoon in realization. âMy voice. You wanna hear myâŠâ His ears turned red with embarrassment. âMy pretty moans,â he repeated quietly.
âThatâs right, baby.â Namjoon rewarded him with a kiss. âMy baby is so smart.â Jimin flushed at the praise. It made his stomach feel fluttery and light.
âBut,â Namjoon continued regretfully, âmy baby didnât listen the first few times I asked, which canât go unpunished. Otherwise my sweet, beautiful, charming baby will become a spoiled little brat. Do you want to be a spoiled little brat?â
Jimin shook his head fervently. He wanted to be a good baby for his hyung.
âSo you understand why I need to punish you, right?â
Slowly, Jimin nodded in agreement and understanding. âIâm sorry, hyung,â he said in a small voice.
âItâs ok, baby. Hyung will always give you a second chance. You can prove yourself again and listen to hyungâs words and then hyung will give you whatever you want.â
âWhatever I want?â
âThatâs right, but your punishment isnât going to be very easy. Hyung is going to test your flexibility. Do you need to stretch first, baby?â
Jimin shook his head.
âAre you sure?â
âPunishments should hurt a little.â
âIâm not about to injure you, Jimin,â Namjoon said sternly.
âHurt, not injure. Iâm flexible, I can take it, I promise, hyung.â
âAlright, but if you think youâre even getting close to tearing something, youâre going to stop me.â
âI will.â
Namjoon sighed. âYouâre being so good, itâs hard for me to punish you now.â
âIâll become a spoiled brat if you donât. Youâll have a hard time making me moan anyway.â
That struck a chord.
âIâll have a hard time? Are you challenging me?â
âMmm, getting you to show me how youâre gonna punish me. Iâm not convinced at the moment, hyung.â
âYouâre going to shut that mouth of yours,â Namjoon threatened.
âBut then how will I moan for you? How will I scream so loud we get another noise complaint from our floor? How will the neighbors downstairs hear me?â
Namjoon tsked. âYou think youâre winning this game? Baby, Iâm already two steps ahead of you.â Namjoon pulled a ring gag out from his back pocket. âSay âahâ, baby.â
Jimin barely opened his mouth, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.
âYou think youâre funny?â Namjoon gripped Jiminâs jaw and forced him to open his mouth wider, fitting the ring behind his teeth. A low, unrestrained groan filled the room as Namjoon tightened the gag behind Jiminâs head one loop smaller than was comfortable. He watched him struggle with the gag for a moment before he unlocked the cuffs holding Jiminâs arms above his head and pulled them out as far as he was allowed, clicking them onto new rails. Jimin huffed in response and shifted to make himself more comfortable.
âNow your legs,â Namjoon muttered to himself and searched under the bed for their shoe boxes of toys. He dug through the first box with no success, but he found the two extra cuffs in the second. He pulled Jimin up into a nearly seated position to make stretching his legs a little easier on him and began securing his legs to the bed rails when Jimin made a strangled noise that sounded vaguely like âhyungâ. Namjoon looked down at him to see if he was ok.
âToo much?â
Jimin shook his head.
âFeels good?â
A hesitant nod.
âWell, we canât have that, can we?â Namjoon stretched Jiminâs legs farther and relished the moans pulled out into the room. He sat back and admired the lewd position displayed in front of him. âNow, since you canât say anything, if you need me to stop, pull against the cuffs on your left hand three times. Do you understand?â
Jimin nodded.
âShow me how youâll do it.â
Three hard yanks.
âAlright. Now. How am I going to start your punishment, hmm? Do you want me to play with your cock or with your ass?â
âA-ahhâŠaah-â
âSorry baby, itâs hard to understand you when youâre wearing that gag. Did you say ass?â
Jimin nodded frantically.
âWell, too bad baby. This is a punishment, not a reward. Iâll play with your cock first,â Namjoon decided, drinking in the way Jimin squirmed against his restraints. He pressed a finger against the dripping head, rubbing small circles around the slit. A long moan passed easily from Jiminâs open mouth despite his attempt at choking it down. Namjoon dug his finger into the slit and Jimin slammed backwards into the headboard with a high pitched wail.
âMmmâŠI never realized how responsive you are to this,â Namjoon noted, continuing to prod. âWe should try sounding sometime, donât you think?â
Jimin was reduced to indecipherable noises.
âUnfortunately, we donât have anything safe enough to start with, so thatâs gonna have to wait,â Namjoon said with a sigh and began stroking Jiminâs cock lazily. He looked up and grinned at the sight of that sinful tongue slipping out through the ring involuntarily as his baby panted. He continued to pump his hand as he leaned forward to suck Jiminâs tongue into his mouth. Startled, Jimin pulled his head back, banging it against the rails.
âOuch. That sounded like it hurt,â Namjoon sympathized. He rummaged around in the box next to him to find a bottle of lube. He popped open the cap and poured it directly onto Jiminâs skin, watching him tense up and whine from the sudden chill. Namjoon spread the lube over Jiminâs cock with one hand while the other used whatever was left over to begin stretching his hole.
It didnât take long for Namjoon to fit three of his fingers into him, but the instant Jimin began fucking himself onto them, Namjoon removed his hand.
âI bought a present for you not too long ago,â Namjoon said calmly, wiping his hands and ignoring the frustrated pants. âYouâll have to wait for me to go get it, but I donât want to leave you untouched, so we can use this instead,â he continued and retrieved a vibrator from the box. Jimin shook his head and tried to protest, but his words came out as garbled nonsense.
âNow, now. Donât worry. It wonât be on the highest setting.â Namjoon clicked the button three times to set the vibrations at a medium level and proceeded to hold it against the base of Jiminâs cock. âYouâre waiting for the catch now, arenât you?â Namjoon asked as Jimin moaned loudly and nodded.
âMy smart baby,â he praised. âYou see, since I have to leave the room, no oneâs going to be able to hold it in place.â
Jiminâs eyes widened with realization. Namjoon began balancing the vibrator on the bed to lean against Jimin in a way that was infuriatingly teasing yet nowhere near satisfying. âNow donât move, or else itâll fall and you wonât have anything touching you for the next few minutes. You donât want that, now do you?â
Jimin tearfully shook his head.
âGood boy,â Namjoon approved and kissed his cheek before he left the room again.
Jimin was easily sweating through his white shirt. He closed his eyes and desperately tried to think of something other than how badly he wanted to rut against the toy. Each shuddering breath terrified him. He feared that if he breathed too hard, he would make the vibrator fall. His mouth was beginning to feel dry from the constant exposure to the air, and he couldnât control the frustrated whines he was constantly making as his thighs involuntarily tensed every few seconds.
He wanted to be touched. He needed to. Otherwise he felt like he would lose his mind.
Why was Namjoon hyung taking so long?!
As if on cue, Namjoon returned to the bedroom, and tears of relief began spilling from Jiminâs eyes.
âHyung,â he tried to call out, but all that left his throat was another moan.
Namjoon shushed him gently, switched off the vibrator, and opened the water bottle in his hand. âDrink this. Iâll pour carefully.â
Jimin hungrily gulped down the water, half lapping it up as Namjoon poured a small, steady stream into his mouth.
âFeel better?â Namjoon asked, and Jimin confirmed that he was ok. âGood. Youâre doing so well. Your punishment is almost over. Weâll finish with these,â he promised and revealed the present he had bought.
Thick double vibrating bullets.
Jimin stared at the toy and then looked back at Namjoon.
âDo you want to try it out?â
Jimin nodded anxiously. Namjoon smiled.
âSince youâve been taking your punishment so well, Iâll listen your choice this time. Do you want one on your pretty cock and the other inside you or do you want both of them inside you?â
Jimin thought hard for a moment, brows furrowed. He yanked on his cuff twice when he decided.
âBoth of them inside you?â
Jimin nodded.
âFuck, Jiminie. Do you have any idea what youâre doing to to me?â Namjoon growled and began removing his clothes, unable to ignore how painful it was for him to keep his pants on any longer. âShould we play with the settings first?â
Jimin shook his head with an impatient huff. He had been teased for so long, all he wanted now to be fucked hard. Namjoon sensed this and chuckled. âAlright, alright.â
Jimin watched his hyung lube himself and the toy up, his breaths, heavy and thick with lust, clearly audible.
âI wish you could see how hungry your little hole is right now, clenching like that, begging for something to fill it up.â Namjoon pressed the power button on the remote and the bullets began whirring to life. He clicked through the settings to start at a low, basic speed. Jimin was practically crying through the ring in his mouth.
âYou wanna be filled, baby?â
Jimin pulled harshly against his restraints, his eyes pleading for Namjoon. Namjoon waved one of the bullets at him before he lowered his hand and rubbed it against Jiminâs hole.
With an erotic cry, Jiminâs stomach muscles tightened as he rolled his hips with what little motion he was allowed against the stimulation, trying so ardently to have it inside him.
âFuck, baby,â Namjoon groaned and drove the bullet into Jimin until it was swallowed up. The connecting wire threading out to the remote was the only evidence that it was even there at all. That and the escalated moans dripping from Jiminâs throat and he ground into the bed, craving more.
Namjoon set the remote down and stilled Jiminâs movements for a brief moment to line himself up. He moved the wire aside and slowly plunged into tight, suffocating heat. Jimin cried out and his knees vainly tried to bend and close from the overwhelming pleasure of his hyung finally taking him. Namjoon, too, groaned as he pushed the bullet further into Jimin, the vibration rough against his sensitive head. He paused for a moment while flush against Jiminâs heaving chest to give him an encouraging kiss on the forehead. He began thrusting slowly at first so Jimin could adjust, but within a few moments, he was pounding into him, shoving the bullet farther in. Jimin screamed openly with pleasure, voice breaking with each drive, every muscle in his body tense, hands clenched, toes curled, tears rolling down his face, neighbors completely forgotten.
Namjoon abruptly halted and pulled out, but Jimin continued to whimper repeatedly, his hole contracting around nothing but waves of buzzing throbs. Saliva leaked from the corners of his mouth, and he couldnât even keep his eyes open anymore.
Namjoon patted away stray tears that clung to Jiminâs cheeks. âIâm putting the second one in. Are you ok with that?â
Jimin nodded feebly, a few seconds too late to be considered a normal response. Namjoon was about to continue when Jimin suddenly made a sound and rattled the handcuffs weakly.
Despite the lack of three distinct tugs, Namjoon immediately stopped and unbuckled the gag. He carefully wiped Jiminâs chin, totally indifferent that he was cleaning the spit drooling from his babyâs exhausted mouth. He gingerly massaged Jiminâs jaw, which must be aching terribly by now.
âBaby, did I hurt you?â Namjoon asked, voice full of concern. He turned off the vibrator.
âLehâŠplea-â Jimin was still struggling to make coherent words, but Namjoon understood him. He instantly uncuffed Jiminâs ankles, gingerly placing them on the bed before slowly, painfully slowly, closing them so as to avoid hurting him as much as possible.
âDo you want me to take out the bullet?â
âNo.â
âYou want to keep going?â
âInna sec. Mâlegs areâŠdead.â
Namjoon brought Jiminâs arms closer and locked them to the rails right above his head, so he could lay down more comfortably. âWhat do you want me to do, baby?â
Jimin stretched out his jaw for a moment before replying. âStretch my legs towards my chest.â
âLike this?â Namjoon proceeded to pull his legs up.
âAh, ah! Slower, please. It hurts a lot.â
âSorry.â Namjoon carefully help Jimin bend his knees so his legs were folded against his shirt. âYou doing ok?â
Jimin sighed happily. âYou have no idea how refreshing it is to move my legs,â he said with a smile. Namjoon grinned and massaged Jiminâs legs, rubbing out the tension and soreness. He had him groaning for an entirely different reason now, not that the neighbors would be able to tell.
Before long, Namjoonâs hands wandered down to Jiminâs cock again. He focused on making him feel better, and from the shaking moans and the way Jimin was grinding up into his hand, he was doing fine.
âIâm so proud of you, baby. You didnât cum yet, and Iâve been teasing you for so long. Youâre so perfect.â
Jiminâs stomach fluttered at the praise. âHyung,â he breathed, voice getting needy.
âDo you want hyung to play with your pretty cock until you cum? You deserve it, baby.â
âNoâŠI want hyung to fuck me until I cum, and I want to feel hyung's cum inside me.â
âShit, I could listen to you all day,â Namjoon cursed and kissed him hungrily while one hand slowly began fingering him. âFuck, baby, I canât even feel the damn thing.â
âHyung, please, I was so close, please just- oh fuck!â
Namjoon pushed into him again and quickly pulled out. He grabbed the vibrator remote and turned it on to the highest setting. Jimin swore loudly. Namjoon grabbed the second bullet and pressed it against Jiminâs hole. It slipped in without any resistance and Jimin moaned shamelessly. âHyung, fuck meâŠâ
âStill hungry? We need to fix that donât we?â Namjoon gripped Jiminâs legs and pushed them down, using them as leverage for him to hammer into Jimin ruthlessly. The room filled with explicit begs and unchecked cursing.
Within minutes, Jimin succumbed to the powerful vibrations pounding through his core as his hyung brutally fucked him. His eyes screwed shut, and incomprehensible sounds fell from his lips as his orgasm ripped through him, cum streaking his legs, stomach, and chest.
Jimin was limp with exhaustion when Namjoon reached his climax, pumping his load inside Jimin with low moans. He kissed him softly on the lips and pulled out when the tight heat was becoming too much for him. Namjoon turned off the toy and carefully tugged at the wires to remove the bullets. As they were drawn out, Namjoon watched as his cum was pushed out of Jiminâs hole, running down onto the sheets.
Jimin whined and exhaled deeply through his nose at the feeling of being emptied. Namjoon unlocked the cuffs that held Jiminâs arms up and placed tender kisses on his bruising wrists before leaving to draw a hot bath for him.
When he returned to clean the bed and the toys, he found Jimin sleepily humming a mildly familiar tune while he slowly stretched out his legs.
âMmmâŠIâm gonna have to call in sick for the next few days,â Jimin said as Namjoon scooped him up into his arms.
âWhyâs that?â
Jimin rolled his eyes. âBecause Iâm not gonna be able to walk, hyung, and that probably gives you one hell of an ego boost.â
Namjoon chuckled and brought Jimin into the shower.
âYou donât have to stand. Just sit down and Iâll rinse you off really quick.â
Jimin sighed contentedly and sank further into the soothing warmth of the bath. Namjoon was taking a shower in the glass cubicle next to him. âHyung,â he called gently.
âHmm?â
âDid I make you happy?â
Namjoon turned off the water and stepped out. He tied a towel around his waist and knelt next to Jimin. âNow why would you ask such a silly question, baby?â
âI meanâŠwas I loud enough for you?â
Namjoon laughed. âThe neighbors definitely hate us.â
Jimin snorted and began playing with his hands. Namjoon watched him for a while before dipping his hand in the water and intertwining their fingers.
âItâs a shame really,â Jimin mumbled.
âWhat?â
âI wanted toâŠâ His ears blushed.
âWanted to what?â
âI, well, I-I kinda wanted to hold all ofâŠitâŠi-inside me. At least for a little longer. I donât know, this is stupid and embarrassing.â Jimin sank into the water, attempting to hide how red his face was getting. His nose peeked out over the surface of the water and he kept his eyes averted.
Namjoonâs heart wanted to burst. God, he was so fucking cute. Instead of squishing Jiminâs cheeks like he wanted to, he settled for playing with his hair. âNext time,â he promised.
Jimin looked at him and pulled himself back up. âNext time, I get to do whatever I want. You said so.â His lips were pouting and begging to be kissed.
So Namjoon did.
His lips were always so soft and perfect, and he smelled sweet and clean and likeâŠhimself. Namjoon didnât want to stop, but he gently pulled away and kissed him on the forehead.
âNext time you can do whatever you want, my Jiminie.â
#bts smut#jimin smut#namjoon smut#bangtan boys#kpop smut#jimin scenarios#namjoon scenarios#rap monster smut#jimin fluff#namjoon fluff#rap monster fluff#kpop fluff#kpop scenarios#bts scenarios#rap monster scenarios#minjoon smut#minjoon fluff#minjoon scenarios#minjoon#jungkook#taehyung#v#suga#yoongi#min suga#jin#seokjin#hoseok#jhope
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No More, Mr. âNice Guyâ.
My heart breaks and goes out to all of the women who have had the courage to come forward recently in the media about men in power who have violated them. Â I refuse to compare traumas, and some could make the ignorant argument that what Iâm about to say âDOESNâT EVEN COMPAREâ to other more violent acts in Hollywood, but this particular story about Aziz hits very close to home and has left me slightly undone.
Yesterday, my little sister bravely put a post up on her social media that I hope contributes to changing the minds and hearts of Azizâs defenders. Â Years ago, she had an encounter with him that leaves no doubt in my mind that this man is a serial predator, and is in fact very aware of his behavior. Â When I started seeing posts going up about him not knowing any better, it being a one-time accident, give him a chance, etc, my blood boiled over. Â Because for every one story that receives light, there is almost always a painful trail of those that donât. Â We, the general public, have absolutely zero knowledge or qualification to conclude this manâs innocence. Â But Iâve heard enough true stories that absolutely confirm that he is guilty, and NOT a ânice guyâ.
When I first heard this news story, I became very upset about how this brave woman, Grace, is being torn apart by the media. Â The criticism, the atrocious âopen letterâ by another woman, was deplorable enough being directed at her. Â But these attacks go further than Grace. Â Just like weâre unqualified to say that Aziz is innocent, criticizing and destroying Graceâs character is also insane, because nobody making these comments actually knows her. Â Therefor, these words are attacks on every woman, every person, who has ever suffered at the hands of sexual assault, violation, and manipulation. Â I moved through the phases of generalized rage, to rage over my sister being targeted, and eventually right over to my own miserable encounter with a different celebrity who is widely known to be a ânice guyâ.
What happened between this ânice guyâ celebrity and I could also be judged as just a really, really bad date. Â Okay. Hm. Here are some examples of dates Iâve been on that qualify as really bad, in my opinion:
1.      Met up with a dude on OkCupid around the corner from my apartment.  He was totally different online versus in person.  He didnât pick up on any social cues, spoke about himself the entire time without asking me any questions, begged for a kiss at the end of the night, and then attempted to make plans to see me again. It was so gross that I desperately texted another OkCupid match immediately after in an attempt to brain-bleach the experience away.  Dude #2 picked me up around midnight and took me to a diner. He was super nice, but I didnât feel any chemistry. All in all, the night left me feeling gross, sad, lonely and exhausted.  I deleted my profile shortly thereafter.
2.      Went out with a guy who claimed that he was such a powerful wizard that he could turn invisible, and had me âwatchâ him do it (IâŠstill saw him).  Later that night he somehow convinced me to go back to his place, where he proceeded to makeout with me under a crystal pyramid.  I still laugh about that one.
3.      My first super-serious boyfriend didnât know I was 20 when he asked me on our first date. I got kinda lost and was late to meet him in Revere, realized I had forgotten my wallet with all of my money back in Rhode Island, got in the car with him while I was still on the phone with another friend, and then when I asked what weâd be doing that night, he responded that there was a bar heâd like to take me to. I had to give him the news that I was underage. I was absolutely the cause of this horrible date. We ended up being together for five years after that, but good lord was that awful. Forever in my shame fileâŠ.(side note: the night ended really well, fortunately, and has remained a very sweet memory)
Those are what âbad datesâ look like. Â There is no sexual assault or emotional manipulation in those stories. Â There was no fear for my safety, no violation, no feeling of absolute filth or the kind of humiliation that makes you completely question yourself and turn to ice, drawing up traumas from the past or activating mental illness. Â As soon as those qualities enter the picture, one is no longer on a âbad dateâ. Â It becomes a different entity; a bastard child of rape culture.
My âbad dateâ with this ânice guyâ celebrity still haunts me to this day. Â He had met me a year or so prior during a big performance I was in, and pursued me to varying degrees over time. Â I was completely star-struck. Â I had been a fan of this guyâs music since forever, and couldnât believe that he was paying so much attention to me. Â My friends made fun of me because he was a bit older, or at least had aged poorly from years of heavy drug use, but that didnât matter me. He was sober now, and so devoted to his art, and so smart and funny, and sooooo nice. Â After months of more intense flirtation and a solid makeout session after one of his shows, he became insistent on spending more time with me, wanting to treat me like someone he was actually seeing, rather than a casual long-distance flirtation. He begged me to come stay with him in New York for a couple weeks, telling me about all the places he would take me, the fancy dinners, and so on. Â I agreed to make it happen, but shortly after saying yes, he began getting a little cold. Â Energetically, I knew something was off. Â I backed off of the plans, confused, and made up an excuse that I would have to check with my work to see how much time I could take off. Â Ultimately I gave in and decided to go down for two nights. Â That weekend ended with me going hungry and thirsty, abandoned in a hotel room, fucked twice and then completely snubbed. I felt awful. Â I felt used, manipulated and lied to. Â I felt cheap, pathetic and outrageously humiliated. Â I hated how his coldness made me shut down, and that I felt unsafe being myself. I hated what an idiot I sounded like around him, because my brain was so dissociated from confusion and fear around not understanding the extreme shift that was occurring with him. Â I hated how ugly I felt, and how stupid. Â I hated that I was treated like a nameless sex worker, and STILL didnât get paid. Â At 1 or 2am on the last night, I sent a frantic text to one of my sister-wives who supported me in an incredible way, offering to buy me a different room so I could sleep before getting back on the road to Boston. Â Talking to her gave me the strength to leave there and tell him to fuck off forever. Â I wrote him an email while his âsoberâ ass was drugged up and unconscious on pills next to me, and hit send as soon as I left the hotel, because I had no desire to look at his face or hear his excuses in person. Â I told him how horrible his behavior was, to which I didnât receive any kind of response for hours. Â No, the first thing I saw from him was a video on Instagram of him in the back of a cab, just staring into a camera with tears in his eyes so all of his followers could see what a sweet, sensitive man he was in that tender moment of pain.
BARF.
He finally made contact, with his first text saying âwell that fucking sucked.â Â I tried asking him why he did what he did, to just give me some hint or clue or anything that would help me stop feeling so awful and insane. The last text I remember receiving was, âI said Iâm sorry. Â I donât owe you any explanations.â
Outside of work, I spent the next couple days in bed, mourning the experience. Â There werenât enough showers. Â I exhausted my tears. Â I felt such a depression that I stopped feeling anything at all. Â This man continued to follow my friends online, liking their sexy pictures and making fun and flirty comments, as if there were zero consequences to his actions. Â Not a drop of guilt or self-awareness. Â A few months later, a song of his came on, and like women are conditioned to do, I questioned if the badness of the interaction was all my fault; that my being a desperate loser made him rightfully neglect and mistreat me; that my sensitivity and awkwardness caused me to lose a lover and friend.
SO I SENT HIM AN APOLOGY TEXT AND TOLD HIM I MISSED HIM.
He responded simply that he was glad to hear that. Â And we never spoke again.
I dare you to ask me why I didnât just leave.
I dare you to call that a âbad dateâ.
I dare you to bring up my age, my fragility, my anxiety or history of depression.
I dare you to ask me why I donât just say his name, or why I havenât spoken up sooner (one reason: he already has one autobiography out in which he shares graphic and personal details about the women heâs hooked up with, often through the lens of him being some kind of savior, unless heâs looking for sympathy because he was on drugs. On our âreally bad dateâ, he informed me that he has a deal with a publisher and was in the middle of writing his second autobiography. Â I would like to not end up in that book for the rest of time. Â If Iâm already in that book, I would like it if nobody bought it, so Iâm not about to call attention to him. Please thank you amen).
I dare you to tell me that I put myself in that situation.
I dare you to tell me this whole thing is fake because I tried to resume contact.
I dare you to tell me to toughen up and just get over it, that I should be grateful that I donât live in a part of the world where acid could be thrown in my face.
I dare you to tell me that I asked for it.
I dare you to tell me that it wasnât technically rape, and that this is just how men are and itâs not his fault.
I dare you to bring up my entire history of sexual assault and dysfunctional relationships, and make an argument that Iâm either lying, that Iâm a magnet for this, or that Iâm just attention seeking.
I dare you to tell me what a fan you are, and that heâs such a nice guy.
Just try me.
These days, I feel mostly healed from this interaction. Â Iâll occasionally have a dream about it, or snarl a bit if his name or music come up. Sometimes I try to change the story in an attempt to reclaim any power from the situation, bragging to folks who arenât close to me that I had the chance to bone a rockstar. Â Itâs super rare that I feel angry about this anymore. To be honest, my anger about it only flairs up when I hear other women getting trashed for having the courage to come forward about rape culture. Â Which, these days, is more and more frequent. Â But I think 90% of that anger is that of a collective rage for having to ask/answer these questions, doubt our worth and authenticity in the face of those who hurt us, and lay ourselves out to be slaughtered in the name of âjusticeâ. Â 5% of it is still being angry at him. Â The last 5% is being mad at myself for not acknowledging the red flags for what a loser he is.
While I do believe that there are people who do nice things in the world, Iâm all set with ânice guysâ. Â Or just, ânice peopleâ in general. Â More and more, I find that many people who identify as âniceâ or are described as âniceâ, are simply performing niceness. Â I, as with most women on the planet, have had more than my fair share of ânice guysâ getting angry with me for not giving them my pussy in exchange for all of the âniceâ things theyâve done for me (most of which I never asked for, I just say âoh wow, thatâs nice, okayâ when itâs presented). Â There are countless ânice guysâ out there who were my dear friends, who have miserably rejected and abandoned me now that they know Iâm not going to fuck or date them. If you ask them, theyâll probably tell you a version where I was so mean or ungrateful, whatever. Find Jesus and call me in the morning.
Iâve had âniceâ friends of all genders who use ânicenessâ like some sort of currency, that when theyâre being absolute douchebags, they like to avoid personal responsibility and remind you about how you canât be upset with them because theyâve done so many âniceâ things. Â Or they use ânicenessâ as a way to create co-dependency. Â There are a lot of âniceâ people in powerâcops, celebrities, clergy members, girl scout leaders, teachers, family members, etc. who have done some really nasty things. Â A lot of classist racists give to charity. Â This is not to say that the rest of us are infallible, no no. Â I by no means will try to make you think Iâm any kind of angel. But thereâs something manipulative and deceptive about the performance of ânicenessâ. Â These people in power who would ânever hurt a fly!â have raped, stolen, been abusive, lied, exploited, and hellâeven been serial killers!
DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY âNICE GUYSâ WHO ARE ACTIVE IN CHURCH AND ARE COMMUNITY LEADERS AND HAVE BEAUTIFUL FAMILIES ARE ALSO MURDERERS??????
SO I DONâT EVEN WITH ME.
Sorry, I donât mean to contribute to mass hysteria. Â No, I truly donât believe that the average nice person is a murderer. Â My point is, âniceâ is not an argument toward someoneâs innocence. Â Nice can be a defense mechanism, like animals who pretend theyâre dead so they wonât get eaten. Â Underneath that is a world of emotions, thoughts, fears, motivations, experiences, and so on. Â I know very, very few people who can be defined with niceness being their authentic, primary trait. Â I know infinite humans who are awesome, who are incredibly kind and loving, and do very nice things. Â But they also get angry. Â They also tell people the truth and say no, which can be met with a lot of resistance and backlash. Â They also have moments of being bitchy, and owning that bitchiness. Â They can be sad, really really sad. Â They can be jealous, cold, selfish, and really a vast array of things, BECAUSE THEY ARE WHOLE HUMAN BEINGS AND THAT IS REAL.
When a person tries to push their niceness on me, or insist that I see them as nice, or others argue with me âbut theyâre so niceâ as a largely defining quality, I am immediately suspicious. Â I donât care if youâre nice. Â I care about whether or not youâre mature, and if you have boundaries and empathy. Â I care about your actions matching your words, and if what you do behind closed doors matches who you are on Facebook (I mean like, itâs none of my business how much you pick your nose or how many days you go without bathing, but donât let me find out that your yogi feminist-posting ass abuses women). Â I care about whether or not you have genuine love in your heart, and pure intentions. I care about your ability to be kind, and your honesty about when youâre not. Â I care about whether or not you have integrity, and if youâre willing to be authentic. Â Iâm not interested in Nice People. Â Iâm interested in good people. Â Just like self-deprecation is an easy go-to in comedy, how being âprettyâ and âcuteâ are the easiest approaches to burlesque, and how using auto tuning can turn anyoneâs voice to gold, the performance of ânicenessâ is the easiest and most classic manipulation tactic in the book. Â Iâm not asking you not to be nice. Â Iâm asking you to be real. Â And if being nice in this moment for you is real, then I accept. Â But if your ânicenessâ pushes past my wellbeing, then you are not nice, and your actions are null and void. Â Please understand this point.
I am very tired of being fed âtruthsâ based on superficial assessments. Â None of you truly know Aziz Ansari. Â None of you truly know this celebrity I had a negative experience with. Enjoying a personâs product or public persona is not the same as knowing them. Â Destroying a vulnerable person who is suffering at the hands of the strangers you call heroes is unacceptable. Â Do not create more wounds and more victims because you canât hold the hard moral dilemma of enjoying the work or benefits of knowing a person who does bad things. Â That is your own cross to bear, not theirs. Â They already have enough to deal with.
Next time you say âoh but heâs really a nice guyâ, youâd best be able to back that up with extensive, concrete evidence.
Next time you catch yourself huffing and crying, justifying your actions with, âhey, Iâm a really nice guyâ, check yoâself, because youâre probably about to wreck yoâself.
So what am I really aiming for here, in yet another rambling blog? Â My hope and prayer is, whether itâs rape culture, deceptive behavior, or our society trivializing stories that make them question themselves and feel uncomfortable/inconvenienced, that Iâll be able to see a day when this bullshit doesnât rule our lives. Â We need to stop waiting for it to magically appear for us, too. Â Each woman who comes out and speaks her truth is doing her part. Each person who is directly acknowledging bad behavior and holding their friends and family accountable is doing their part. Â Donât wait for change to fall in your lap. Â Examine the role you play in all of this, and adjust yourself accordingly. You can drag along behind, crying and trying to stop this boat by kicking the waves, or you can jump on board and help us sail collectively to shore. Â Either way, this baby is moving forward. Â You decide how you want that experience to go for you.
Link here for an amazing article by Lindy West, dismantling the argument that boys and men donât know any better, and the toxic nuances of rape culture:
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/17/opinion/aziz-ansari-metoo-sex.html
#niceguy#nice#this is why we can't have nice things#aziz ansari#rapeculture#bad date#consent#feminism#fedora#guywithguitar#idiots
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THE HISTORY & REALITY OF PLAGUES Deadly Covid 19
In the Name of Allah, Who with His Name nothing can cause harm in the earth nor in the heavens, and He is the All-Hearing, the All-Knowing. There were many epidemics if you read any classical book of history that is and history books written and you cannot read a book of history except that you come across a number of plagues. For example in the year to eighteen he draw a plague affected Egypt and not a single household was unaffected in fact it is said that all the governors and leaders and statesmen died into a teenager in Egypt . And 228 that plague reached they said that so many people died that they ran out of cloth to cover the bodies and they could not bury the dead in Basra. As well in the year 406 the plagues became so deadly that their the the graveyards were full and the bodies were basically in the streets for a few weeks. Is he said that in some cases the entire family has passed away and they would simply just you know close the house and that would be their burial for many months until the plagues finished . In the year 448 Hydra another plague swept through some lands including Egypt and Andaluz and because of this emember. They're happy mentions in his seal Adam a novella you can look this up volume 18 page three one one for those who are interested because this is a very interesting quote here . Remember there was a plague in a famine in and endaros and musr that people never had seen before had untill masajid amore shutted until the masajid remained shut without anybody praying in them . so this is very explicit here in the year 448 Hydra the plague was so severe and the famine was so severe that the masajid were shut and not a single musalli remained in certain areas and lands and this is expressly mentioned in . And other books as well and there are many other incidents as well but I want to jump to now of course the infamous Black Plague or the Black Death. That swept through the century of 14th century of the Gregorian calendar and it swept through the Mediterranean and Andalusia and it affected the entire globe. Of course the epicenter was Europe but it affected the entire globe . As I said this plague the bubonic plague or the black plague it was the greatest plague that recorded history has ever seen . Once again in a number of regions the plague was so severe let me quote you from the famous historian Al mikaze who writes in his book a salute volume 4 page a deed and I give these references because again sometimes people doubt like oh my god how can this be true look at this up yourself am a crazy . Black Plague that occurred in the year 749 Hydra in a number of regions the Adhan was stopped being given people stopped giving a ban in entire regions . Oh dear it must surely be a ban in white and in the famous place that he's gonna mention our he said mentions it only one man was given in the entire city. Were over the masajid it was Hawaii and the majority of masajid and the majority of monasteries where Sufis would gather together they were closed down. They did not remain open, saying the plague was so severe that the majority of masajid and in some places all of the masajid in some regions they were shut down. So this is something that is not new now the the issue of us being proactive is something that is new it is true because those people were being reactive in those times . When it's too late then they're reacting. we're trying to be proactive and shutting the masajid down before it gets to the level where there are no more people and we have to shut the masjid down . But the point is that it has happened in Islamic history that regions have had to shut masajid . Stop the event because of the plagues that were I'm happening no doubt and I'll be the first to say. I don't think it has ever happened to the global scale that we are witnessing now. But it is because we have more knowledge and we understand the real of plagues and we're being proactive . Because of that now back to my series of anecdotes here, the greatest commentator of Sahih Bukhari Ibn Hazar in the year 833 Hydra he lost three of his daughters to a plague that affected. All of Egypt during the reign of Sultana Ashraf of the Mamluk era . Because of this he wrote the encyclopedic work it is an encyclopedia over 400 pages . It is printed you can buy it in the classical bookstores and books and book stores that sell classical works. You can buy it in in the the bookstores that have these types of books. It is a very big treatise 400 pages it's an encyclopedic work that covers many aspects that , Theology of plagues. Where plagues come from? What to do in times of plagues? The hadith about plagues the filth of plagues. Plagues are a mercy for the believers .Is Allah Punishing Us By Coronavirus ? And this is a very interesting book that maybe again Allah knows what my future lectures are gonna be but maybe we'll summarize this book at a lecture. I don't know we'll see in any case of some of the takeaways from this book , he wrote this book Subhan Allah . what a Alim and what a Genius. His family has died he's seen three of his daughter dies. How does he react he takes that grief and he channels it to write one of the best books the world has ever seen about the fifth of plagues.
Look at this the the mindsets of this greater. In any case so of the things that we can get lesson from this book that he mentions he has chapters that plagues are a mercy for the believers. Plagues are a mercy for the believers and the punishment unto others . He mentions the famous hadith which is Sahih Bukhari that the Prophet Muhammad Sallallahu alaihi wasallam was asked about plague and the Prophets of Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala said that " pleague are punishment for whomever Allah wants and it is a Rehema that Allah has made for the believers ". So this is our theological understanding of plagues . It is an either notice by the way he did not say an Adhab for all kuffar . He did not say this. He said it is an Adhab that on whomever Allah wants it to be and it is a Rhema for the believers . So this underscores our mentality. Dear Muslims all that is happening around us . Now we need to understand this as being a Rhema for the movement and we asked all that we are amongst the movement. We wanted to be our Rahma for the Mu'min, even as we suffer some of the pains and the pinches and the consequences in our heart of hearts . Our attitude is whatever is happening there's a greater wisdom . And in the end it will be Rahma for me. Ibn Hazar mentions that he has chapters here about those who died in the plague , and of course these chapters are very emotional very powerful because of course he's lost three of his own family members . Of course he has in this the famous hadith of the Prophet Muhammad Sallallahu alaihi wasallam "That anyone who remains in a land of plagues and he stays there" . And anyone Stay there patient expecting the reward of a Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala without knowing that nothing will happen except whatever Allah has willed it to happen . Then if he dies he shall die the death of a Shaheed . He mentions therefore you know that we all know this insha'Allah. I hope we all know this now that whoever dies because of the plague with Iman and taqwa that death will be considered the death of a Shaheed . This is a great blessing from Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala and it is also a comfort and a consolation that had been had you felt much consoled that my daughter's my family members died the death of a Shaheed . He also mentions many chapters about the issue of running away from plagues fleeing from from plagues. Of course the famous hadith " if you hear of a plague in another land don't go there and if you're in that land don't run away from it" . And then he mentions that when is this hadith applicable and when is it not applicable. He actually ends up concluding and this is the opinion by the way of the vast majority of Olama that it is allowed to travel to and from such lands if there are pressing reasons to do so. What you're not allowed to do when the plague has come to your land you run away in cowardice and fear thinking that running away will save you. That is how long but even had your mentions and after him o sleuthy and before him others call this. As well if you're in a land and you have a genuine reason to go somewhere for example to protect your family for example for medical treatment somewhere else and so you leave one land to another land for legitimate reason . Ibn Hazar says this hadith does not apply to you. Now should you leave should you not leave this also goes back to the experts of our times , we listen to the medical experts. But the point is that if we are in an epicenter where our experts have said this is an epicentre of disease . We are told we should not travel to flee thinking that running away from it is going to protect us . That is obviously going against what our Prophet SAW Allah . And Allah knows best. https://www.islamilecture.com/history-of-plagues-deadly-covid-19/
For protection against diseases
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Ùۧ ŰźÙÙÙÙÙ A'oothu bikalimaatil-laahit-taammaati min sharri maa khalaqa. I seek refuge in the Perfect Words of Allah from the evil of what He has created. O Allah, You are my Lord, there is no god but You, I put my trust in You, You are the Lord of the Mighty Throne. Whatever Allah wills will happen and what He does not will, cannot happen. There is no power or strength except with Allah, the Exalted, the Mighty. I know that Allah has power over all things, and Allah comprehends all things in knowledge. O Allah, I seek refuge with You from the evil of myself and from the evil of all creatures under Your control. Surely the straight way is my Sustainerâs way. May Allah Protect Us from everything Amin. #anewvirus #coronavirus #covid19 #disease #history #plagues https://www.islamilecture.com/history-of-plagues-deadly-covid-19/ Read the full article
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-raises hand- So you put Reesumi on your list of pairings for your Valentine's Boogaloo and my first thought was 'angst', so...if you're not busy and in the writing mood, may I please request some Reesumi Valentine's day angst? I apologize for bothering you, and I hope you have a good rest of your day ^^
my BUD iâm always busy never feel bad about bothering me also the power keeps flickering on and off and if its anything like it is here at work itâs gonna be an interesting time today
tw: blood gore injury
yumi ishiyama arrested for drawing eileen galvin parallels
valentineâs day boogaloo - guidelines
~~
Reese hacked and coughed, dragging her half-useless body under the roof of the Hermitage. Rain slated down, which was half of a blessing as he was pretty sure it masked how much blood there had really been spilt. Yumi flinched as he flopped her onto the floor, quietly wailing herself back to consciousness.
âHey,â he croaked, grimacing at how grisly his voice had become, âCan you move?â
âM-MommaâŠ?â Yumi cried weakly. As if he heard his command but couldnât respond any other way, she weakly tried to fold her legs under her and stand up. Her heavy boots, useless without any strength behind them, skidded on the filthy floor of the Hermitage and her hips flopped like a dying fish. A firm growl stuck in his throat as he reached down and curled his fingers into her jacket. No use just standing in the entryway like this. He tugged, pulling her across debris until she laid in the hallway near the stairs. She groaned in pain the entire way. Reese couldnât respond, knowing that she still wasnât sure of her surroundings.
Leaving her in the hallway he stepped into the first floor bathroom, pushing away broken tiles and glass to get to the one cabinet door that wasnât infested with spiderwebs. Pulling out their stash of first aid, he returned to Yumi.
He didnât talk to her. He had convinced himself that it would do no good or make things worse. XANA hadnât just aimed at her mind for no reason. The fact that he had pierced through and Yumi had lost her eye seemed to just be a bonus at this point. If her mind was lost, it was a coin toss as to how much Reese would be able to get back while the others struggled on Lyoko. XANA was still lurking about. It was easy to go for Jeremieâthe stress left him weak-minded and a simple target, so Aelita theorized. But the same could be said for Reese, and if Reese too lost his mind, then Yumi would be the first to go.
He gingerly pulled her head onto his lap, took a deep breath, and pulled the hair over her damaged eye away.
Involuntarily, and unsurprisingly, his sharp teeth clamped down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Okay. He couldnât say heâd seen worse or tried to fix worse. But. It was time to get to work.
It was messy to the point of feeling cruel. Alcohol to cleanse what wasnât already cauterized caused her to screech and scream, swatting weakly with one arm (why wasnât the other arm moving? no, canât fix that. focus.), once he started swabbing and cleaning she started to cry like a child, and when he was wrapping gauze with further disinfectant around her she complained that it was scratchy, momma, that she wanted to take it off.
That she wanted to go back to Japan.
That she wished daddy had never taken the job in France.
Pain that he had been ignoring swelled up at the base of his throat. Oh, the pounding rain had made it hard to hear what she was saying, but he got the gist of it. It was an old pain, one that he could never fucking befriend. The pain of four years ago. When he opened his jaw it creaked like he hadnât done so since the same four years.
âWhat about your friends?â
âIâŠI donâtâŠ,â she brought her working arm to cover her head. He watched as her fingers played with the gauze, careful to make sure she wasnât trying to tear it off, âI donât. Have any friends.â
Thatâs right. She didnât have friends, before him.
âNo?â he placed a hand over hers, gently but firmly prying her fingers away and wrapping them in his fist so she wouldnât undo the gauze further, âWhat about Jeremie? Odd? And Aelita?â
She tried to pull away from his hand as he spoke, again like a child yanking on their parentsâ arm. Her face scrunched up, trying to deny him, but after many worrying cries of pain in succession her arm went limp and he released her hand. It fell from her face, revealing her one good eye open and staring into the distance.
âYumiâŠ?â he asked. She shivered, blinking her eye as it roved around. Perhaps she was finally coming to, and heâd be able to talk with her and figure out a way to get to the factory with her in this condition to make sure Jeremie and the others were okay. Her eye rested on him. He expected her pupil to focus in fierce disgust and acceptance.
It didnât. He raised his brow in worry.
âUlrichâŠ?â
Worry skyrocketed to panic.
âUhâ,â
âUlrich, where have you been,â Tears spilled out of her face and mixed with the blood, filth and alcohol. Reese shifted away, trying to distance himself from her which was hard when she remained on his lap.
âU-Uh, I think youâre making a mistakâ,â
âWeâve needed you so muâIâve needed you so muâ,â Yumi struggled to move, gasped in pain, and collapsed back into his lap. The tears rejuvenated, thin and hot.
âI-I canât move,â her voice cracked, pleading to him for help or at least an explanation. Reese couldnât respond, frozen solid as he stared at the pathetic mess of the strong, leading young woman he had coveted for so long. Wailing and broken and twisted and lost. Distressed, she tried to move again, and he finally broke to grasp her, holding her still.
âNo, no no no, shh, okay, youâreâExtremely hurt.â
âUlrich,â she choked, âWhy.â
âUh, please, uh, I really think youâve got the wrong guyâŠ,â
âS-Stop it!â she screamed suddenly, âStop it Ulrich! I can see itâs you!â Reese flinched, noticing that his unscarred cheek was facing her one good eye. Here, the dilemma began. He could turn his face, point to the scar, and force her to realize it wasnât Ulrich (leastways not anymore) or he could start playing along, further breaking her already shattered mind. Or would the first option shatter her mind more? At first he was glad she wasnât calling him momma anymore, but at this point heâd take that back.
âWhy are you hidingâŠ,â Yumi sobbed, âWhere did you go, we needed youâŠ,â
âYumiâŠ,â
Thunder rumbled overhead. Moments before Yumi had been struck down by what was soon concluded to be XANA, thunder had rumbled too. Reese swallowed and looked up at the cracked ceiling.
âWe need to go,â he said, starting to gather her up. She shrieked, clawing at him.
âNo, no, I canât!!â she refused in between shrieks of pain, âI canât move, donât go to Lyoko, Ulrich, stay, please, donât leave me here!!!â
Reese froze.
Donât leave me here!!
He wasnât planning to, no, butâbut the idea that she was expecting him to, that instead of asking him to go to Lyoko and fight sheâd rather him stay there, with her, even if it was uselessâthunder rumbled again and he gripped Yumi harder. If I lose my mind Yumi will die if I lose my mind Yumi will die if I lose my mind there would be no one here to help her or me and XANA could pluck us off like feathers on a dead chicken
âYumi, no, we have to go!â he tried to command but it came out more like a plea. She dug her nails into the back of his neck, pulling at his hair.
âUlrâ,â
âIâm NOT Ulrich, we have to GO!!â he roared, causing Yumi to melt into a mess, sliding off his lap in an uneven, inhuman way. Sobs and cries became lost in the rain and thunder as Reese stood up, already trying to calculate the best way to carry her to the basement and then hopefully to the sewers.
âI just wanted you to be with meâŠ,â she barely spoke above a whisper. Had he not already leaned down to pick her up he wouldâve missed it.
Against his better judgement, he raised a hand, forcing it to be light, and grasped her shoulder.
âI know,â he whispered back in that voice he hadnât used since he left, âI know that, now, okay? Iâm taking you with me. We have to go.â
She shook her head, âYouâre not him.â
âYumiâŠ,â Reese pleaded with frustration as the thunder grew stronger, âNot now, jesus christ,â
âYouâre not him,â she whispered again and Reese gasped as her nails continued to dig farther and farther, surely drawing blood. She opened her eye and fear clawed as his throat as her pupil recognized him in the form of XANAâs symbol.
âYouâre not him and youâll never be him.â
Lightning struck.
#code lyoko#iwry#reese anders#yumi ishiyama#xana#blood tw#injury tw#gore tw#valentine's day boogaloo
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