#INNER Black Soul Religion

[neptunes-sol-angel]

*pchit pchit* Describing your spirituality as a perfume and the essence behind it. Feel free to look up metaphysical meaning behind each note to see additional messages that may resonate with you.

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Pile One

Top Notes:

Tangerine, Magnolia, Peppermint, Fennel

Middle Notes:

Lemon, Rosemary, Arborvitae

Bottom Notes:

Oregano, Bergamot, Sweet Marjoram

Your perfume embodies a warm summer day at a villa in Italy. You’ll feel right at home when your olfactory nerves take in every single accord. Your fragrance is soft, smooth, bubbly, with a hint of what a clean roaring 20s hotel suite would be like with incense smoking in the background. Boujee and boozy. Your spirituality is based on finding awakenings in nothingness. Losses could be something that you experience a lot. Home could be something that is not really guaranteed for you. It could be by choice meaning you find purpose in nomadic living or you’re constantly moving around against your will because of a destructive crisis. This could have made it hard for you to attach or give sentimental value to holidays, milestones, and relationships that are meant to be positive and celebratory. You don’t have to dress in garments or be deep into religion or philosophical teachings and rituals. You’re spiritual in a way that resonates with taoism. No matter how many endings that occur in your life, you are not meant to stay there. Even if you lose your will to keep going, you embody the concurrent flow of circulation. Finding life after death and being open to miracles when you’re at rock bottom. I feel like people could see you as “walking karma”. I feel like there are a lot of people in the pile who do not believe in the concept of karma because you believe in handling retribution yourself. You could be into defense and malefic magic, but you could also have a lot of strength and endurance to push for things to happen in your life. When it comes to pointing out someone’s spiritual gifts, it’s usually the magic that happens naturally. So while people may think you are “walking karma” or have this fear that you’re getting revenge on them, I’m getting that your gifts are more like a blockbuster and a road opener spell.

Pile Two

Top Notes:

Pink Pepper, Siberian Fir, Lotus Flower

Middle Notes:

Black Spruce, Morello Cherry, Ginger

Bottom Notes:

Honeysuckle, Frankincense, Neroli, Nubian Musk

Your perfume is seductive, mysterious, feminine, and mature yet playful. The scent is dark, floral, and energizing with the way it will last all over your body the entire day, even if you shower. Your spirituality thrives in beauty, love, magnetism, and divine enlightenment. You could resonate with the siren archetype with how entrancing you are with your desires and self worship. I keep seeing the majestic creature obsessively grooming theirself in a mirror, so people could think that you’re vain or self-absorbed. But what they don’t understand is that spiritually, you embody what it means to treat your body like a temple, and how your inner world can shift your outer world. You’re extremely powerful with glamour magic, affirmations, and creating subliminals. Like a siren’s voice, you’re just commanding with the words that you speak which can do wonders for you but can also make you have to be very careful with the things that you say and your attention on certain things that may look or seem like a good idea but they really aren’t. I get that in order to master your spirituality, you must place boundaries with what you’re drawn to utilizing moderation and also being specific with what you want. In this collective, I feel that there are a lot of young souls who are eager to learn and experience. Many of you are actually on track to reaching this level of mastery. This pile reminds me of the movie “The Craft” and the phrase “curiosity that killed the cat”. You guys could indulge in divination, spells, or non-occultic shortcuts in life that may have led to getting you in unnecessary trouble or problems that ended up combusting. The more that you experience what you think you may want, the closer that you reach to finding peace with something that may look the complete opposite.

Pile Three

Top Notes:

Citronella, Lavender, Vasaka, Spearmint

Middle Notes:

Helichrysum, Frankincense, Tonka Bean, Celery Seed

Bottom Notes:

Sweet Pea, Matcha, Grapefruit, Petitgrain

Your perfume has a different take on what gourmand can be. It’s probably the most natural sugary scent that you’ll ever find. When the scent hits your nose, it’ll feel like you’re waking up one sunny morning to a matcha lemonade and a lavender grapefruit puff pastry. Discovering your spirituality could or still be very confusing for you. The collective’s energy in this pile feels lost, opaque, and saturn-like because I think that the clarity that’s being sought after most likely will not be received until your 40s or 50s. I’m seeing a lot of switching religions, jumping to the next path to consciousness by dabbling into concepts that you may not fully understand, or being led astray by new-age theories. I’m also seeing a lot of spiraling when things do not work out that may cause you to blame these practices when transitioning onto the next thing. I’m getting that people in the pile could have faced a lot of judgement in these spaces at an early age. Never really feeling like you belong or that you’re welcomed by others which could play a part in why spirituality could be so confusing for you and it not being something that you can trust. You may have even decided to become atheist or agnostic and that is okay. The delivery may not have been right in feeling let down in your spirituality, but the truth is, it is the human thing to crash out when you show your devotion, you do the work consistently, and had the bravery to be positive about it and then next thing you know, things are tumbling down and you don’t know what the hell is going on or if you did something wrong. For some of you, the problem lies in trying to find acceptance from others in these spaces. You’re making material things such as people or social constructs and standards for your god. You find a god in something that’s way bigger and personal than what the next person’s input is. Whether it’s digging deep into your roots to resume your ancestor’s indigenous practices, carving out your own space in christianity to fortify your faith in peace, or even finding the god within yourself, your spirituality will become a lot more clearer to you when you make it less about others and have more acceptance and validation for yourself.

Pile Four

Top Notes:

Ylang Ylang, Rain accord, Ginseng

Middle Notes:

Jasmine, Coriander, Vetiver

Bottom Notes:

Tonga Vanilla Bean, Passionflower, Spikenard

Your perfume could be well-rounded, where you can vividly smell every note all throughout the sillage of when you first sprayed it. The scent has a bold blend of aromas that are both masculine and feminine. It’s earthy, sweet, strong, the perfect scent to acquire if you want to make an opulent first impression. Like this perfume, your spirituality represents the power and respect behind energy exchange. You see life in all things, and believe that everything is energy much like how science demonstrates that everything is derived out of atoms and chemicals. You resonate with herbology, following the moon and stars, and letting the universe speak to you through plants, animals, and the weather. You could be into tea leaf readings, palmistry, or water and cloud scrying. You believe in superstitions that were taught to you by your elders or the people of your culture(s). You could be against anything along with seeing things as something to be taken or owned. Money comes to you easily and it doesn’t have to be in surplus. I just see you being taken care of because of the spirits that you communicate with and look after, even if you’re not directly into mediumship, it seems like you unconsciously connect with your ancestors and other forms of spirits, especially if you have this habit of talking to yourself. I don’t want to scare you, but whoever you are talking to, they are definitely listening to you and responding back to you in many different ways lol. Your spirituality is also brought to life when musical instruments are being played, when you’re cooking for others, and when you’re helping others who have less mobility.

[aurorasgate]

love written in the cards

event details:

event requests: open | normal request rules apply

sfw + nsfw | event tag #🌙.written in the cards

authors note: i feel like i'm always doing events after not writing for a while and when life gets busy n hard but they get me excited n chattin with y'all and it seriously lifts my spirits <3 so here i am with another event to get me writing🩷 since i've been getting back into/deeper into tarot recently i thought it'd be fun to do a little event around it so i hope you'll enjoy it!

how to participate:

i'll be taking tarot pulls for sfw + nsfw requests. if you want nsfw please specify in your request. if not specified i'll stick with sfw. i do ask that for nsfw requests you be off anon and please have your age displayed somewhere on your blog<3

option one ✵ pull your own cards: from the list of major arcana cards below 'pull' your cards to divine the fate of the story. you can pull 1 to 3 cards and please only one character per request. if there's anything specific you'd like to include in your request please feel free to add as much detail as you'd like!

request example: the lovers + strength with diluc

option two ✵ luna pulls: tell me the character you'd like me to write for, the deck of your choice from the list below, how many cards you'd like me to pull (1 to 3) + what kind of pull you'd like me to do (major arcana cards only or full deck of 78 cards). i'll pull the cards like i would for a tarot reading and write a story based on the cards i pull for you

request example: luna pulls for caleb using the crow deck, full deck pull with 2 cards

luna pulls:

available decks:

antique anatomy ✵ skeletal + floral theme. uses rods, blades, coins and elixirs in place of wands, swords, pentacles and cups

crow ✵ mini cards set in a crow theme

gold foil ✵ large. crystal theme. black cards with gold foiling. my first deck ever

neon foil ✵ dark colored cards foiled with neon blues, pink and purples

note: i'm usually very particular when doing pulls for others that they choose the deck and cards themselves butttt that's kinda hard to do online lol i still wanted to give the option that if you'd like to detail how you'd like me to pull please feel free too! i usually lay the cards out in two rows so if you'd like to tell me to focus on cards in a certain row (top row, bottom row) or to a certain point (like middle, left side, ride side) and/or thinking of something in particular with the character you choose, please do!

pull your own cards:

major arcana:

the fool ✵  key words: beginnings, journey, adventure, innocence, joy, creativity, risk, fearlessness

the fool reversed ✵ keywords: recklessness, distraction, carelessness, irrationality

the magician ✵ key words: manifestation, talent, power, magic, problem solving, determination

the magician reversed ✵ key words: communication block, confusion, deceit

the high priestess ✵ key words: intuition, mystery, hidden secrets, hidden knowledge

the empress ✵ key words: beauty, pleasure, abundance, potential, creation, luxury, fertility

the emperor ✵ key words: power, authority, experience, order, control

the hierophant ✵ key words: tradition, religion, study, obedience, structure  

the lovers ✵ key words: choice, desire, love, duality, romance, unions

the lovers reversed ✵ key words: unconscious choices, conflict, disharmony, imbalance

the chariot ✵ key words: willpower, confidence, ambition, courage, determination

strength ✵ key words: inner power, confidence, patience, trust, courage, compassion 

strength reversed ✵ key words: lacking courage, self doubt, vulnerability

the hermit ✵ key words: solitude, seclusion, wisdom, soul searching, retreat

the hermit reversed ✵ key words: loneliness, sadness, fear of vulnerability

wheel of fortune ✵ key words: good luck, karma, fate, change, opportunity

wheel of fortune reversed ✵ key words: bad luck, misfortune, disappointment, fear of change

justice ✵ key words: truth, honesty, fairness, balance, consequence, equality 

the hanged man ✵ key words: introspection, sacrifice, reflection, acceptance, surrender

the hanged man reversed ✵ key words: reluctance, fear, confusion, stagnant

death ✵ key words: transformations, endings, embracing closure, cycle, release

temperance ✵ key words: healing, balance, divine blessing, spiritual guidance 

the devil ✵ key words: obsession, seduction, limitation, dependency

the devil reversed ✵ key words: independence, release, freedom

the tower ✵ key words: destruction, sudden change, devastation, liberation

the star ✵ key words: hope, blessing, renewal, healing, peace, vulnerability 

the moon ✵ key words: illusion, unknown, deception, danger, intuition

the sun ✵ key words: illumination, joy, celebration, happiness, optimism

judgement ✵ key words: rebirth, acceptance, purpose, awakening

the world ✵ key words: wisdom, ending, achievement, success, completion, freedom

the world reversed ✵ key words: limitation, incomplete, emptiness, lacking courage

[sunlight-shunlight]

I think probably in some older version of the story, having access to an awakened Titan through one of your companions was probably going to be involved in "curing" the Blight somehow, even though in Veilguard it's made completely irrelevant to the main plot.

!!!!

that is very neat... i was thinking the veil had to have done Something to the titans, since the descent one only woke up after the breach? also there's the fact that orzammar is in the frostbacks, and something there seems to be capable of resuscitating leliana as a lyrium ghost... i do also think the maker was probably a titan and leliana's rose vision thing was a communication from it, haha.

i think my guess would be that the time line went like:

the elves + maybe some faction of anti-titan dwarves sever the dragons from the titans, and bind the dragons to the evanuris somehow, weakening the titans ability to "broadcast" so to speak. i think the titans are naturally connected to the fade, but need the dragons to send out their... titan wifi signals into the physical world, if that makes sense, ahah.

i kind of wonder if that's what the orbs did? like the elves pulled them out of the titans and use them to control the dragons? idk. i think it means something that solas got SO freaked out by corypheus' dragon, bc maybe he thought it meant that corypheus had unlocked the orb fully enough to bind an archdemon with it, rather than using his weird blight stuff to control a random dragon?

i think mythal has a unique relationship to whatever dragon/titan she got her orb from - it may have been more voluntary on her part. that might be why she has the shapeshifting/blight resistance/cares so much about dragons.

the elves go hubris mode and fully kill one titan (the one under the vimmarks where the red lyrium originated). the death of the titan is what generates red lyrium, and why the red lyrium isn't everywhere in thedas, bc not all of them are actually dead.

mythal and solas have the whole area locked away, andruil starts poking around and digs it back up, mythal beats her up and wipes her memories.

time passes, the evil elven regime gets eviller. mythal gets ides-ed of marched. personally my opinion is that the other evanuris tried to kill her and then drink her blood to get her blight resistance, and it didn't work. a last supper + chronos eating his son type of mess.

solas puts up the veil, using the evanuris and their bound dragons as conduits to hold it up. this sunders the last remaining connections the titans had to the fade, and they go fully comatose - this probably turns the titan's... inner ecosystem space(?) much more barren and unlivable, since the descent looked really cool and pretty, and orzammar does NOT have that much biodiversity inside, haha. so the dwarves retreat closer to the surface to survive, and their civilization generally becomes more precarious despite its expansion.

the dwarves eventually forgot about the quarantined red lyrium area bc millennia have gone by. go back in to explore it, and then flee immediately and try to lock it back up. this might be when they remove all mentions of the titans from their records, if they got really scared and thought all the titans were this fucked up.

the tevinter magisters break into the black city, get blighted, and start generating darkspawn. blight time. for some reason, the grey wardens also have a cool idea of drinking blood to resist the blight, and this may be on advice from elves? presumably solas feels fine about this.

flemythal had a galaxy brain scheme of luring dwarven-blooded people to live in ferelden, puts an old god soul into andraste, who then starts hearing one of the titans, and makes a whole religion out of it.

this goes great! except flemythal did not plan for the most evil factor of all: andraste's cringe fail husband betraying her. andraste dies, the titan breaks its connection to her, the whole millennia of effort to get to that point is wasted. this probably makes flemythal corrupt further into vengeance bc she remembers elgar'nan, and after that she picks her next host on a shared Revenge Platform and starts directly possessing her daughters. she's no longer content with just putting the soul in someone and letting them have it, she would want direct control of it (thus, morrigan's whole thing).

the andraste titan is occasionally trying to reach out (leliana's vision!) but can't make much headway. orzammar dwarves still have stone sense sometimes, but that's it. it probably gets killed or severely damaged by corypheus, bc the red lyrium immediately starts spreading out from the sacred ashes temple? the descent titan wakes up when the breach happens, and then by fluke manages to connect to valta. fortunately valta does not have a cringe fail husband who kills her immediately afterwards, so that works fine i guess.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

In the original concept for the Shadowstruck universe, the attitude toward heartlight was simple: It was believed to be an outward sign that something had a soul, and the story would involve scientists trying to show that heartlight has a physical cause unrelated to the soul. But this suggests that there is no religious truth in this world, as if all religion is wrong and science is the only source of truth. It certainly doesn't line up with how similar issues are approached in our world. It's much more realistic for science and faith to both be sources of truth, and for the errors to be caused by the misinterpretation or the twisting of science and religion.

But this requires a much more complicated history. How do we explain a world where shades weren't and aren't always seen as non-persons, but are in some places treated as slaves and non-persons by people who consider themselves enlightened intellectuals?

Since this story is focused on Western society, I'd say the best way is to roughly parallel Western European history.

In an ancient pagan era, shades were largely considered non-persons--usually killed at birth (sometimes sacrificed), sometimes enslaved, sometimes shunned like lepers. (It's possible some cultures attached some sort of mystic importance to them--thinking of them as oracles or somehow touched by the gods).

Christianity comes along (it won't be named as such, but it'll be pretty obvious what it's supposed to be) and says that of course shades are people, we're all made in God's likeness, salvation is for everyone. They could still be considered a burden or hold lesser status in practice, but over time, they became largely accepted as valuable members of the community.

Shades are relatively rare--similar rates of occurrence as certain birth defects. Notable when they show up, most people know at least a few, but they're not a huge population, so it isn't like they're a huge concern.

Then some kind of Black Plague occurs, and shades, for some reason, are much more resistant to it than the rest of the population. Suddenly, shades are a much larger percentage of the population than ever before, and as society rebuilds, this begins to frighten some people.

Some people begin to interpret religious scriptures in ways that conveniently suggest shades are a lesser class or not people at all. Verses talking about things like "God giving his light to mankind" are reinterpreted to be about heartlight--clearly those who don't have light aren't part of mankind.

There are lots of similar twistings. Heartlight is a sign of election. A shadow is a sign of inner darkness. Shades were put on earth to serve people. Their proliferation is God's punishment on mankind. The most extreme interpretations suggest that shades are fiends in human form, come to prey on souls.

You might think that the accompanying rise of skeptical rationalism would counteract these religious lies by holding to objective truth. Well, you'd be wrong!

Philosophy begins to question the notion of "all humans being equal" as absurd and not based on actual fact. Some suggest that society is a war, a survival of the fittest, and that shades, who require extra care and can so easily be dominated, have a naturally lower place in the social order.

When microscopes show obvious differences in the blood cells of shades, anti-shade groups feel vindicated--clearly shades aren't human at all, but something else.

The discovery of genetic inheritance add more layers of anti-shade rhetoric. Shades are naturally lower, a weakness in the gene pool, and they should be weeded out or eliminated.

Obsession with noble/royal bloodlines dovetails nicely with these new genetic considerations. Bloodlines without shades are clearly stronger and purer than those with shades. The birth of a shade can taint an entire family line, so such births are hidden as quickly as possible, whether by killing the child or sending it away.

Over the centuries, shades become second-class citizens, then non-citizens. Early on, they were the subject of witch-hunts, until some places subdued them into a labor force. Intermarriage with a shade is seen as basically bestiality.

Shades become a vital underlayer to this modern society. They're a convenient labor force. They're great subjects for medical testing. If you object to their treatment, you're clearly delusional--how could society go on any other way? Do you want us to go back to the Dark Ages?

Some cultures still hold onto the traditional ideals of shades as people, but these nations have their own problems, which their opponents use to paint them as backward and barbaric, clearly out of step with modern times.

I find it darkly amusing that the social upheaval that led to people with heartlight elevating themselves above shades could be called the Enlightenment.

[whorediaries-09]

girl here's ur request again bc you probably lost it in the amazing algorithm of tumblr. i still do it for you, babe 🩷 sirius black x reader fic with somnophilia and choking? pretty please with a cherry on top? also, WE MIGHT JUST GET AWAY WITH THIS RELIGION'S IN YOUR LIPS EVEN IF IT'S A FALSE GOD

i didn't loose your previous request(s) my love, i was planning to post them on the valentine's week. anyways that is quite beside the point because imma write this one too. enjoyy.

streets;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- 18+ content. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- set during ootp, cause i CANNOT resist dilf sirius 😔. sorry not sorry haha.

the slut club

no final fantasy, can we end these games though? you give me energy, make me feel light weigh

it was a nefariously lustful dream. you grinded against the hard object that provided you the friction against your pussy. a sinful sleepy groan left your mouth. you could feel the hotness creep under your skin as you felt your stomach tug with the familiar coil of ecstasy. you felt yourself arch against nothing, trying to let the coil boiling inside you snap, drive you to an edge of insanity.

it the fire in your nerves felt more real than a dream. it was like a consuming blue flame. you could feel the warmth of the musk infused breathe on your neck. you could feel the rough callousness of his hands across the skin of your thighs. you could feel the cold metal of his rings slide across your hot skin, rubbing over your inner thighs. it felt too real to be a dream.

'open your pretty eyes for me love, i need to see your eyes when i make you cum,'

your eyes fluttered open, when it finally dawned upon you. you met the gray eyes you'd been dreaming about. you met the warmth of the body you'd been wanting. you met the touch you'd been dreaming about. you met the one who's name rolled off your tongue with the sweetest sin of pleasure.

'sirius?' you asked, fazed, as his fingers roamed on your clit through your underwear. he leaned closer to you, simultaneously pulling you closer, shuffling on your sheets, barring his pearly white teeth. his knees locked themselves on the either side of your waist, keeping you in place. he took out his fingers from between your thighs, sucking his digits off your arousal. that earned him a guttural moan from your mouth.

'i've heard you moan my name so many times before. when you get your pretty mind dumb with dirty thoughts and play with yourself,' he said, a glimpse of malice in his stormy gray eyes. your heart burned in anticipation. the line between your dreams and reality crashed, when he wrapped his hands around your waist, manhandling you to sit on him, your knees on the either side of his hips.

you felt his growing erection through his pants on your wet core. his well defined pectorals had intricate designs of tattoos inked upon traced thin lines of healed wounds. the thin strands of gray hair hidden between raven locks reflected under the moonlight.

heinously, he grabbed your throat, his fingers pressing lightly on your arteries. he pulled you closer, so your mouth was in line with his lips. he smiled coyly, as if mocking you.

'tell me what you want,' you whimpered as you felt him buck his hips your clothed core. hotness of euphoria lust crept under your skin. he brushed his lips with yours, increasing the force on your artery with each passing second.

'i need you to fuck me,' you whispered. the embarrassment of the situation had dissipated. it was just the bubbling covet of bliss which simmered into every inch of your body.

so when he captured your lips with his teeth, dissolving you into his very soul, devouring you while ripping apart your underwear, your head was fazed. your fingers tugged at the waistband of his pants, freeing out his cock. he pushed himself inside you, stretching you out perfectly, causing a broken moan for him to swallow. he increased the force on your throat, blocking your supply of oxygen.

he thrusted into you, blurring the lines between the real and the fake. the summer air cooled upon your hot skin, as the hair on his pelvis rubbed on your clit. you felt yourself melt with his touch as he thrusted into you. he left your lips, a string of saliva connecting your kiss bitten lips.

you chanted his name like a fucking mantra, your moans and whimpers broken by the force of his hand around your throat. the cool metal of his rings contrasted against your hot skin. you lost yourself into cloud nine, in his heaven like eyes. he was a drug, a dream an overdose of sinful heaven.

it was sweetness and danger, when you felt the coil of orgasm bubble inside you again. your mind was dizzy with the lack of oxygen. you rolled your hips, as his cock hit your sweet spot just right. the scream got caught in your throat, and you rolled your eyes. you felt your toes curl, and thighs shake as your euphoric pleasure hit you. you clenched your walls around his cock, releasing your juices on his stomach.

he pounded into you, his hand leaving your throat, as you came down from the high, your lungs savoring in the supply of air. you hid your face into the crook of his neck, sinking your teeth into the soft flesh. you heard his soft gasps and felt his cock twitch inside you. you rolled your hips, urging him to release himself inside you. he bit your shoulder, as he came, painting your insides with hot ropes of cum.

the final fantasy had melted into a reality, as you fell beside his heaving body, your thighs slick and sticky.

[writers-potion]

hey, can you do a circles of hell post like the heaven one?

The Nine Circles of Hell 😈🔥

Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy is divided into 3 parts: Inferno, Purgatorio and Paradiso. The Inferno presents us with the popular concept of Nine Circles of Hell.

Ante-Inferno

Think of this as the Ground Lobby for Hell.

The Gates of Hell have this inscription: "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate" (Abadon all hope, ye who enter here)

Souls who couldn't choose between good and evil reside here, tortued and chased by hornets and snakes. (Seems like indecision is also a sin, haha)

There are angels here as well who chose to be on the side of neither good and evil, and they're also tormented.

After crossing the river on the boundary for hell with Charon, you meet the first level of hell:

First Circle: Limbo

The first circle is home to the unbaptized and virtuous pagans, who simply didn't know that Christ exist.

These souls have lived morally, but failed to accept Christiantiy as a religion

No physical torture, but waves of sadness flow through the souls, lamenting the fact that they're close to Heaven but aren't in it.

Retirement community of the afterlife: Hippocrates, Aristotle, Virgil, Homer, Horace, Ovid, Socrates, Plato, Saladin

Second Circle: Lust

The wind-buffeted second circle of Hell is the final destination of the lustful and adulterous.

Souls are blown about in a violent storm, without hope of rest. They are torn in a raging storm and thrown against rocks.

Cleopatra and Helen of Troy were among its most famous residents. Francesca da Rimini and her lover Paolo.

Third Circle: Gluttony

Those who overindulge themselves are forced to lie in vile, freezing slush, guarded by Ceberus

Unable to move, they lay on the ground forever while being hurled with sweage and dirt.

Ciacco of Florence is here.

Fourth Circle: Avarice & Prodigality

This section of Hell is reserved for the money-grubbers and overly materialistic among us. Those who hoarded money come here.

The greedy battle each other, forever rolling giant boulders on each other. When they push the heavy weights, it rolls back and the process starts all over again.

Plutus guards them.

Fifth Circle: Wrath & Sulllenness

Dante tells us that the wrathful and angry souls of this circle spend eternity waging battle with each other on the banks of River of Styx.

The sullen are forced to breath below the dark waters, chocking on the black mud derived from the world above.

Fillippo Argenti is here.

───〃★ Door to Lower Hell: gate guarded by fallen angels ★〃───

Sixth Circle: Heresy

Heretics spend eternity entombed in flaming crypts in the sixth circle. Think of a graveyard with burning tombstones.

Heresy is the sin of having beliefs opposed to the Christian belief, which can be a little vague in modern times.

Florentines Farinata degil Uberti and Cavalcante de' Cavalvanti are here.

Seventh Circle: Violence

The Seventh Circle is sub-categorized into 3 smaller rings: Oter, Middle and Inner.

The outer ring is filled with blood and fire and reserved for murderers and thugs. Centaurs guard the Outer Ring, shooting criminals with arrows.

The middle ring is where, according to Dante, suicide victims go. They’re transformed into trees and fed upon by harpies.

The inner ring, a place of burning sand, is reserved for those who are violent against God and nature (blasphemers)

Eighth Circle: Fraud

Geryon, a creature symbolizing fraud, welcomes you to the eighth circle. He has a human face, a scorpion tail and giant wings.

The eighth circle is subdivided into ten trenches, where you’ll find con artists of all sorts. These trenches are called Malebolge (Evil pockets) and each contains different types of criminals who commited fraud.

Panderes and seducers, flatterers, sorcerers, false prophets, liars, thieves, people who created false money, counterfeits, impersonators, schismatics, etc. reside here.

Ninth Circle: Treachery

The final circle is a frozen wasteland occupied by history’s greatest traitors. Betrayers of are frozen in a lake of ice, and most of Satan's body is also immersed in ice.

It is divided into 4 stages: (1) Caina - traitors to family (2) Antenora - traitors to nation or politicians (3) Ptolomaea - hosts to betray theiur guests (4) Judecca - those to betray their lords/masters.

In the very center, Satan punishes the greatest betrayers of all time: Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Christ, and Brutus and Cassius who betrayed Julius Caesar.

Satan has three mouths, each of which eats a specific person: with left and right devouring Brutus and Cassius and the centre mouth devouring Judas. 

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Les Misérables 5.4 - Javert Off the Track

I have to say again how well I think the musical expresses the core of this chapter despite having far fewer lines to work with.

Book: Give up Jean Valjean, that was wrong; leave Jean Valjean free, that was wrong. In the first case, the man of authority would fall lower than the man of the galley; in the second, a convict rose higher than the law and set his foot upon it.

Musical: Damned if I live in the debt of a thief! Damned if I yield at the end of the chase!

Book: Javert felt that something horrible was penetrating his soul, admiration for a convict. Respect for a galley-slave, can that be possible? He shuddered at it, yet could not shake it off. It was useless to struggle, he was reduced to confess before his own inner tribunal the sublimity of this wretch. That was hateful.

Musical: How can I now allow this man / To hold dominion over me

Book: “This convict, this desperate man, whom I have pursued even to persecution, and who had me beneath his feet and could have avenged himself, and who ought to have done so as well for his revenge as for his security, in granting me my life, in sparing me, what has he done? His duty? No. Something more.

Musical: This desperate man who I have hunted / He gave me his life, he gave me freedom / I should have perished by his hand / It was his right

Book: But also why had he permitted this man to let him live? He had, in that barricade, the right to be killed. He should have availed himself of that right. To have called the other insurgents to hus aid against Jean Valjean, to have secured a shot by force, that would have been better. His supreme anguish was the loss of all certainty.

Musical: It was my right to die as well / Instead I live, but live in hell!

Book: acts of violence committed by pity upon austerity, respect of person, no more final condemnation, no more damnation, the possibility of a tear in the eye of the law, a mysterious justice according to God going counter to justice according to men. [Note: this is one area where I think the musical errs with Javert - it roots his inflexibility in a (rather Calvinist, for a majority Catholic nation) view of Christianity. That is not the case in the book, where Javert’s religion is the law, the state, order, and in the end that worldview breaks upon the rocks of Christianity.]

Musical: Shall his sins be forgiven? Shall his crimes be reprieved?

Book: He saw before him two roads, both equally straight; but he saw two; and that terrified him - him, who had never in his life known but one straight line.

Musical: And must I now begin to doubt? / Who never doubted all those years

Book: To be granite, and to doubt! to be the statue of penalty cast in a single piece in the mould of the law, and to suddenly percieve that you have under your breast of bronze something preposterous and disobedient which almost resembles a heart!

Musical: My heart is stone and yet it trembles!

Book: To have the unknown over his head, he was not accustomed to that…Now Javert was thrown over backward, and he was abruptly startled by this monstrous apparaition: a gulf on high…

The darkness was complete…A ceiling of cloud concealed the stars. The sky was only an ominous depth

Musical: The world I have known is lost in shadow!…I am reaching, but I fall / And the stars are black and cold / As I stare into the void / Of a world that cannot hold

Book: But how to manage to send in his resignation to God?…

Unnatural state, if ever there was one. There were only two ways to get out of it. One, to go resolutely to Jean Valjean, and to return the man if the galleys to the dungeon. The other –

Musical: I’ll escape now from that world / From the world of Jean Valjean

Book: Could that be endurable? No.

Musical: There is nowhere I can turn / There is no way to go on!

[ranahan]

Mandalorian soul(s) & Mando’a words for them

So have you noticed how Mando’a has three different words for a soul or a spirit: manda, kar’am, and runi?

Warnings for lots of speculation and headcanons about Mandalorian religion and spirituality.

What is a soul?

First of all, I want to note that cultures around the world have very different ideas of what the soul is. The Christian idea of an immortal soul that goes to heaven after the body dies is hardly the only or even the most prevalent one. Many cultures believe there are many different kinds of souls and that humans have more than one soul.

I was going to draw examples from earthly cultures and religions, but I just put about 50 posts in my drafts folder and I want to publish this before it disappears in that black hole where no information escapes from. Suffice it to say that people have really different takes on what a soul is. Seriously, look up some examples. Blow your mind a bit.

GFFA of course also has the Force, so who knows what kinds of Force traditions Mandalorians have if any, and how those would affect their views of souls and spirituality. I recently reblogged Izzy’s interesting headcanons about Mandalorians and the Force, if anyone is in need of inspiration.

*maan- ‘original’ & Manda

In the canon dictionary, this root on its own is an adjective:

maan (adj): original, first

That’s “original, first” in the sense of “genuine, true” and given the derivations, the root *maan- at least probably also carries the meaning of “inherent, intrinsic, innate”.

*maan- also appears in words like:

veman (adj): real, genuine

Probably from *vut- ‘special’ + maan. “Really original”.

ramaan (n): death (a neutral term)

Probably from *ram- ‘attack’ + maan, “the original attack(er)” or ram + an, “one who attacks all”. Could be either. I’m more partial to the latter etymology, but I’m putting ramaan here just in case.

I believe that the element *mand- that appears in lots of words like mando, manda, and their derivations, is etymologically maan-ad, which has lost an unstressed vowel. This carries the meaning of ‘first person, original person’ or as a plural, “first/original people” which is actually what a number of earthly peoples call themselves. Like that’s a very, very common etymology for the name of your own tribe.

So I reconstruct *maanad (or the same with a short vowel, *manad) as an archaic word with the meaning of “a mandalorian”. I also reconstruct it with a second meaning of “true self, innate self, inner self”, or a soul in that sense. So then…

manda (n): collective soul

…could be an archaic plural of manad-a, with a lost syllable in the middle which is a really common pattern in Mando’a. Mando’a uses plural as a way to form collective concepts, so this is “all Mandalorian souls”.

So when you have gai bal manda, “name and soul”, or kir’manir ‘to adopt, give a soul to someone’, the soul here is specifically the Mandalorian soul, a partaking of the shared identity.

Kir’manir could also be glossed as “to give an origin”, which in Mandalorian terms is exactly what you are doing when you adopt someone: you take them in as a part of your clan. For Mandalorians who don’t care about bloodlines, this is just as legitimate a tie as being born into a clan: in both cases, you become a part of the shared ancestry and heritage.

This is a headcanon, but the picture I get of Mandalorians is that anyone can be a Mandalorian (if you have mandokar, literally “Mandalorian heart”)—but no one can be a Mandalorian without a clan (it’s in the Resol’nare & and in words like kir’manir). You need to get adopted in order to convert and become a Mandalorian. You need to have a clan to hold up the basic tenets of being a mando’ad. You need to be adopted in order to share in the web of souls that make up the manda. This is a really interesting dichotomy. It makes Mandalorians kind of into an ethnic religion like Judaism, only you don’t need to be born as a Mandalorian, only be adopted as one.

In fact, I think that adopting your biological children is really common if not the norm. If you view the gai bal manda in the light of giving the child a soul and a tie-in to the manda, then gai bal manda is to Mandalorians what baptism is to Christians. You can’t go to the Christian heaven without a baptism, and you can’t reach the manda without gai bal manda. I imagine this is where the fanon of adopting dead children so they don’t have to wander eternally comes from (someone hit me with a name; who came up with that? I love it!).

But also! Mandalorians in general are not depicted as very religious. So I guess this is one belief, but it is probably not shared universally and perhaps not even widely. Maybe it’s an old belief, developed in the aftermath of the Mandalorian Wars, when the tie of the non-Taung to their adopted ancestors was still tenuous, and while they were moving away from the worship of the old gods, religious beliefs of all kinds were still rampant. And in the upheaval before they settled on a new canon, all kinds of beliefs and split-off religious sects sprung up left and right.

kar’am

kar’am (n): breath

Okay, not soul. But I believe this is “breath” in the sense of “spirit” (breath and spirit are connected words in many many many languages). Not breath in the sense of “to breathe” as in the bodily function (that’s haal).

So what kind of a spirit is this? Well, it’s made of two roots: *kar- ‘heart, core’ and *am- ‘change’. Heart for mandalorians is also the seat of knowledge and by extension, consciousness. Change is a loaded concept spiritually.

But the interpretation I want to go with is that change is also considered the true nature of the reality and natural world, and is thus connected to a lot of words that relate to nature and reality. The Aay’han dictionary has aman (n): nature, lit. “one who changes all” and I absolutely adore that. So kar’am would be a more bodily spirit, related to life force, vital force, vitality and physical states. So you could derive words like:

akaan’karam: morale, fighting spirit

to’karam: “together spirit”, the spirit of pulling together for a common cause.

ures kar’am: listless, lifeless

Alternatively, you could derive these form oya instead.

Runi

runi (n): soul (poetic only)

My best guess is that this is *run- + nominal suffix -i.

Best I can tell, there are no other words related to it in the dictionary, unless it’s related to the past prefix r’/ru’ and ruug ‘old age’, in which case the sense could be something like “the thing which has gone” as in “the soul has fled”.

So what about the definition? Traviss says “poetic only”, so which poetic sense is she referring to? English (in which the translation is given) has several:

The innate quality that makes something itself, “the soul of (something)”. I would have been tempted to go for this sense, but for me that seems like repeating *maan-. It could of course be that over the time, maan has come to mean Mandalorianness specifically, so runi has acquired this more general sense which maan had originally.

The animating principle, vital force. Already interpreted kar’am this way. And even if I scrapped that interpretation, I’d go with oya instead, not runi.

Embodiment, personification. “You are the very soul of the party.”

Psyche, “body and soul”. Does not seem very “poetic” to me?

Person. “Not a soul.”

A strong positive feeling, inspiration, passion, fervour. Hmm, in Mando’a words like that seem to be derived from oya.

A supernatural spirit.

So which sense was Traviss going for? Shab if I know.

I’ll make a part 2 with some more derived words later, but now I want to post this before going to bed.

[anamenooneowns]

A Creepy Fanfic: The Big Dick.

A/n: This is a fanfic to indulge my inner pre-teens creepypasta phase (which was never really a phase🥀⛓️🖤🤘🏽😔) also, the woman above is not a face claim and you're a spirit entity thing. i'm obviously making up shit bc it sounds cool in my head. so yeah. enjoy.

warnings: Cursing. Death/dead people. Gore? sorta. Horrible jokes bc i think i'm hilarious. No use of y/n. Use of religion to bully another. Bullying. Sex (use condoms pls). Spanking. Name-calling (bitch and cunt). Rough sex. I think thats all... if I missed something lemme know🙂

pairing: ticci toby x you

Water was still when it was untouched. The water in Lake Black has been still since the death of that poor girl–it was so sudden, so awful–awful how everyone in that bumfuck town pretended they had nothing to do with her death. (♱) didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t her fault that her mother was sick, that her mind was broken since the terrible death of her husband, (♱)’s father. 

The witches of Black Falls is what they called her and her mother. Rolling their eyes back and pretending to spasm whenever she passed them in school hallways and in public, reciting prayers in their Religion class to ‘ward’ her away, refusing her food in line at the church when she and her mother had been hungry–starving.

But no longer. A dead girl didn’t need to eat after all, right?

Wrong. Because (♱) was hungry. Starved. Ravenous with a need to sink her teeth into the rotting meat that was this town. A stain is what it was. All heretics.

A head split the still waters of Lake Black. Jet-black hair plastered to brown skin, droplets of water clung to her hairline before rolling down, connecting and parting over and again as she continued to rise. The fog that had settled over the water billowed around her body, rising with her slowly, the currents below swirling angrily and bubbled with the white-hot, scalding, burning anger of a woman scorned. 

Eyes, white–having lost their iris and pupil–were all sclera and thin, red veins. When her pale blue lips kissed fresh air after having been lost to the bottom of Hell for so long a hiss escaped them. The water relinquished its hold on her as she continued to rise into the embrace of the moon on this beautiful night. The only companion she’s ever had her entire life.

The woman in the moon. Her daddy would make up stories about it. How she had been cast away into the stars for bringing darkness…darkness associated with anything bad. Yet, she was so warm right now. Anything would be considered warm compared to (♱)’s cold body. Undead.

She was going to eat this fucking town. And everyone in it, alive. 

Drenched, scuffed sneakers dragged along the asphalt of the street. (♱)’s only goal was to reach the only person here who mattered: her mommy. Each step she took in line with a house on the block set it ablaze, screaming long having made its symphony in the night as they all burned alive. Skin shrinking and fat rendering–it was all so delicious. Her body absorbed it like she was eating, the wounds of her body fading as she gained more… ‘life’ into her.

And when she reached that house, the door opening for her before she could touch it, the sight ran flashbacks through her mind when she was still alive. Out of the mudroom, the stairs to your left in the hallway, up the stairs, the first door to your right was her mother’s room. The door creaked open and there her mommy lay. (♱) neared her and laid on the bed, wrapping her wet, slimy arms around her before weeping softly. 

Because her mother was dead. A pill bottle in her hands, and her body cold, but smiling. To think she was ready to leave this place and be with her husband and daughter again, but (♱)’s soul knew where it belonged, and after tonight–it was destined to one place only.

“You shouldn’t be alive.”

Silence.

“I… know,” (♱) croaked. “But I am.”

“So you are,” they affirmed. “You’re gonna stir a lot of shit, but, you don’t know the rules yet so The Operator is letting you off the hook, but you need to come with me. Come with us, and learn.”

“If-if I don’t?”

Something cold pressed against her throat. It was sharp. “You die here, and your soul is sent straight to Hell where it belongs.”

(♱) didn’t care that the blade has sliced into her neck a bit. “I don’t believe in Hell. I don’t think I ever did.”

“All the more reason to come with us then. None of us believe in it much either,” they moved the sharp blade. 

She sat up slowly and looked at them. It was a man. He had shaggy brown hair, light brown eyes, and skin as pale as the moon. Looking back at her mother, she leaned down and kissed her on the cheek before standing. “Okay,” she agreed.

A black tar-like substance webbed across the ceiling of the room before lighting up, fire licking away at the interior of the once warm home. It was the end of her old life, and the start of another.

“Y’know, I hate when you do this shit,” Toby grumbled. “It ain’t playin’ fair.”

“Playing fair? That’s for losers, baby,” (♱)’s voice echoed like a purr in his mind, the exact way she’d voice her words if she was in fucking front of him and not hiding.

“Callin’ me a loser, little girl?” he huffed, cutting down the greenery blocking his way.

His eyes flitted around the clearing as he looked for (♱). Ever since she joined them and fell into step quickly with the whole undead thing and learning the extent of her abilities-and them falling in love yada, yada, ya-she was the prettiest damn nuisance he’s ever experienced in his life.

Her laughter echoed from the crows above on the gnarled trees. He growled and huffed out a deep breath from his nose-

“Are you?” A boline knife shaved a bit of his five o’clock shadow. (♱) tilted her head at Toby and smiled, black lips parting to reveal pearly whites at her man. “Loser,” she whispered.

Toby chuckled and pulled his goggles up to rest on his head, brown eyes slicing over to her from the corner of his eye. “Alright, mama… you got me. Training over.”

He turned to her and pulled down his mask, revealing his own smile. A vicious scar ran jaggedly from the left corner of his mouth into a permanent sneer. A half-glasgow as (♱) would tease, a running joke after she had said it to hurt him during a particularly nasty argument. The skin there was taut and deformed, the flesh puckered and a whitish-pink, healed but forever marred. With his skin ripped and pulled back, teeth–which were slightly yellower on this side but just as straight as the rest of the teeth in his mouth–were on permanent display.

(♱) leaned up on the balls of her feet and pecked his lips. “What’s my reward?”

Toby raised an eyebrow and snorted. “You’re jokin’, right? This is part of the job description, sweetness.”

“So? Don’t I deserve a.. I dunno, a fuckin’ blowjob or something?” (♱) huffed. 

Toby’s eyes widened. “Babe, what the fuck are you-”

“Look, after how I just fucked you in the ass with that win, I’d say I have a pretty-” (♱) squealed as Toby picked her up and threw her over his broad shoulder-“big dick!”

“Big dick, huh? I’m gonna show you a big dick, little girl, always runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth,” he smacked her ass sharply and then her thigh.

Toby walked toward their cabin, passing Tim and Jeff–Jeff whistling at the sliver of the bottom of (♱)’s ass on display from her ridden-up shorts because, of course–cursing a “Fuck!” when Toby cracked him on the back of the head with the stick of his axe. “You may not be able to close your eyes you lidless fuck, but watch it unless you want me to pluck them out for (♱) to use in her witchy shit.”

(♱)  giggled, kicking her legs lazily and waving at the two other men. “Bye, Tim! Fuck you, Jeff.”

In their cabin, which was in a more secluded section of The Operator’s woods, Toby kicked the door open and shut it behind them. “So fuckin’ cocky and thinkin’ you can talk to me however, babe-” he dumped her onto the bed and (♱) giggled, biting her lip as she rolled onto her belly, Toby grabbing her throat and lifting her head to force her into an arch. His eyes looked into her own, seemingly sightless without an iris or pupil, but he knew she could see.

“Then what’re you gonna do about it?” she hissed.

His permanent sneer stretched.

(♱) bobbed her head with a voracious need for the mouth-ripping burn of swallowing down Toby’s dick, a thick oozing string of saliva filled with bubbles and mixed with pre-cum drooling onto her chest and the bed. (♱) was still on her belly on their bed while he stood up above her, a big and pale tatted hand clamped around her neck, rough fingertips digging into the joint connecting her skull and jaw to force her mouth open. Her clothes were sliced off with her own weapon, courtesy of her boyfriend, the bastard.

Those gorgeous white eyes, not as soulless as one would think, looked up at him.

And then there was the rough scrape of enamel against flesh. “Fucking- oh, you litte cunt,” he hooked his fingers over her bottom teeth and pulled her jaw down as far as he could before pistoning his hips forward. A wet gurgle came from her throat as (♱)’s gag reflex was triggered, her nose buried into his pubic hair where the pungent smell of sweat from training had become stale. (♱) gagged and choked, tears rolling down her brown cheeks as her nose burned, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his shaft with each thrust of his strong hips.

And she loved it. God, hearts would be fucking floating around in her pupils if she had any.

“God- you’re fucking disgusting,” Toby laughed dryly. “Bet that pretty pussy is all wet just from suckin’ cock, right, mama?”

(♱) moaned around his length and he finally pulled out of her mouth, smirking as she panted-and also because she let his cock rest against the fold between her cheekbone and nose. “Huh? What was that?” he asked.

“I said… I-I alr..already told you I have a big dick,” (♱) panted with the most impish fucking smile.

Toby let his head fall, shoulders rising and falling in short intervals. He was laughing. “Alright, bitch-” he grabbed a handful of thick curls and (♱) whimpered as he pulled her up to her knees and then used both hands, tucking them between the back of her thighs and calves to pull her forward, making her bounce onto her back. With the wind knocked out of her, Toby was already pushing his turgid cock into her, the pierced head of his length breaching her first, cold and shocking.

(♱)’s hands pressed against his lower abdomen and he snatched her wrists together in one hand and held them in front of him as he fucked her, smirking as the sight of her back arching away from the bed and her hips canting forward, making a bridge. “T-Toby, oh my… fuck!” she whined, breathily. “Sho… big,” she slurred.

“Nah, that doesn’t sound like what I was just hearin’ sweetness. Fuckin’ say it. Who has a big dick again?”

“Y-you-”

He leaned down to her face, head turned so his warm breaths were spread over her ear and neck. “I can’t. Fucking. Hear you,” he snarled.

“You, baby- on…only you!” (♱) wailed.

“Good girl,” Toby licked up the side of her neck, her sweat making his salivary glands sting. He let go of her wrists and she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, whining and pursing her lips which he responded to. His lips pressed against hers, tongues sliding against each other as they kissed, suckling and smacking. He pulled away the ripped side of his mouth making divots where the puckered flesh connected to normal skin, he was smiling. “Yeah, there we go… can’t even get a word out.”

(♱)’s eyes were lidded, the muscles of her neck loose as her head fell back onto the mattress. Just babbling quietly, legs crooked at the knee and splayed open, cradling his body between them. Her cunt gripped him tightly, small spurts of cream coating his cock in a thin sheen as he buried himself inside of her warmth over and again. “T-Toby,” she whined.

“Shh, I know, mama–m’gonna take you there,” he panted. His thumb strummed over her clit, his hips stuttering every time she clenched too tight around him, jaw falling open so his ragged breaths could fall from his lips. His free hand wrapped around her throat and she bit her lip and he could tell she was looking at him, straight into his eyes.

It felt like electricity crackling through her nervous system, each shock waking her up but the lack of proper oxygen flow making her dizzy and hazy.

Toby’s balls, heavy and tight–churning with cum–pulled upward, the seam of his sac making the separation of each ball prominent. (♱) sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth that developed into a groan as she was right there. Right… there!

White-hot heat coiled and burst in (♱)’s belly, lava overflowing and extending through her body as her toes curled and her muscles contracted and trembled. Toby pressed her thighs against her chest, her pussy squeezing around him so tight that it forced him out of her, her squirt sluicing over him while he humped himself to completion between the chubby folds of her sweet cunt. His cockhead dipped between her pressed together thighs until it was jumping and twitching, thick ribbons of cum streaming over her plump lips, dripping down her brown skin.

He sighed, grabbing his shaft and running it up and down the seam of her pussy until she whined. “Alright, alright, m’done,” he chuckled.

“R-remind… remind me to p-piss you off-” she lifted her head and smirked at him- “more often.” Toby leaned down on the bed, the muscles of his back shifting and rippling. “Sweetness, you can piss me off as much as you want as long as you remember one thing at the end of the day: I’m the one with the big dick in this relationship.”

[derekpadron]

Dear ACLU of Florida:

I would Love to Start a Series of Rent Control Protests Nationwide here in Our United States, as unfortunately Millions of Us Disabled Americans with Diabetes and Our Hardworking Mothers who are Nurses with Vitiligo Skin Conditions, including Our Disabled Veterans, with Blindness, Deafness, Armlessness, Leglessness, Kidney Failures, and Skin Cancer are forced by Ronald Reagan's and Republicans' Big Republican Government Mandates to pay for Swimming Pools and Gyms almost Everywhere in the State of Florida and All Across Our United States in Mandatory Memberships that we pay for Criminal Thugs and Drug Dealers to use instead of us with No Security Guards, instead of shifting and transferring the Swimming Pools to 24-Hour Fitnesses and to Public Parks that can be Commercialized.

Our Democratic Lawmakers - at Local, County, City, State, and Federal Levels - are forcing Us Disabled, Our Retired Elderly, and Our Hardworking Family Members to pay for Big Passive Income Taxes; Property Taxes; Ad Valorem Taxes; Corporate Taxes on Rich Landlords' and Landladies' Investment Companies, Property Management Companies, Maintenance Companies, Lawn Mowing Companies. Security Companies, and Construction Companies; Rich Capital Gains Taxes; and Earned Income Taxes on Property Managers and Leasing Office Ladies, Maintenance Workers, Construction Workers, Lawn Mowers, Janitors, and Security Guards - which must change and cease to be.

The High Rents almost Everywhere in the State of Florida and the Obstacles that Lazy Landlords and Landladies are placing upon us Disabled Americans and Our Veterans and Immigrants are Unconstitutional, because they violate our Rights to Property Ownerships in Our Bill of Rights, the Abolition of Slavery, the Anti-Bundle Clayton Act, and the Civil Rights Acts for Disabled Americans.

My Proposal is we Protest as Big as Mr. George Floyd's Movement as many Disabled, Black and Poor Americans and Immigrants are Dying from Poverty and Suicides, as unwell as being Locked Away in Psychiatric Asylums with Dangerous Criminals.

I also need Public Protests and Demonstrations for us Zen Buddhists, Hindus, Taoists. Confucianists, and Shinto peoples of Asia who are being invaded in their Home Countries by Pro-Crucifixionistic Christians in Asia like in Nepal where a Christian activist from South Korea is trying to Overthrow Buddhism and Hinduism in Buddha's Birthplace in India to Spread Too Much Christianity, while No Buddhists, Hindus, Taoists, Confucianists, and Shintos have protested in Vatican City and Jerusalem to Spread their Asian Religious Faiths in those Heavily Christian Regions.

To be mindful, Christianity is the most Overwhelmingly Populous Religion in the World with Islam in Second Place, while Hindus are being invaded by Muslims in India, the Hindus' only Native Country, while Islam has Saudi Arabia, Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Egypt, Morocco, Afghanistan, Spain, France, Pakistan, China, Latin America, and other Nations as their Lands for No Meditations with Nature as Buddha would sit with and sleep with Trees to meditate and heal his Mind, Body and Spirit.

In the United States, it is currently Illegal for us Zen Buddhists, Hindus, Taoists, and Shintos to sit with Sacred Trees and Hug Sacred Trees for mental health purposes in Our Backyards due to Highest Rents against Our Rights to Property and Religious Faith-Based Healing, in Public Parks we pay taxes for so that the Cops we pay taxes for can shoot at and kill us with their Guns with our tax monies in our Rents and Homes, in College and University Campuses, and in Public Libraries' Campuses.

There are Prejudiced Preconceptions from Christians that we are mentally insane Criminals on Street Drugs for sitting with and hugging trees to Spiritually, Soulfully Heal and Cure Ourselves of sins; Voodoo curses, hexes and jinxes; Inner Demons and Outer Demons from Others as Exorcism, and Soul Possessions.

We can get Killed for Meditating with Trees here in the United States while Leasing Office Ladies of Apartments Communities here in Florida will call the Police on us and kick us out of our Apartments if we dare Practice Our Religious Faith-Based Healing.

Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism, Confucianism, and Shinto are Minority Religions here in the United States and All Over the World.

Unfortunately, the Republican Conservatives have Motivated and Encouraged the Majority of Buddhist Temples and Hindu Temples to kick us Gay American Men out of the Buddhist and Hindu Temples, rendering us hopeless in our pursuits in reaching Enlightenment through Trees and Grass as well as in Curing Gayness and Other Desires as described by Oprah Winfrey, Eckhart Tolle, Kim Eng, and Thich Nhat Hahn from Buddha's Teachings.

My Goal is to have my own Home in New Jersey with my Own Backyard to Meditate in Zen with my Trees while traveling to visit my Family in South Florida, as New Jersey's Colder, Windy, and Moist Weather can help me Practice Deepak Chopra's Breathing Exercises Meditations, but unfortunately All Airlines in the United States have banned mentally ill Schizophrenics and Bipolar people from riding on Flights without providing us mentally ill Americans with our own Psych Airlines that would provide more Air Marshals, Police, Guards, Nurses, Doctors, and Medications that could ensure Safest Flights for us all.

Currently, Psychiatric Medications are Very Expensive and they cause us patients to suffer from High Blood Sugars and High Blood Pressures that also require Expensive Medications such as for Diabetes and Blood Pressure, so Meditating with Trees in Our Own Safe, Designated Public Zones would be a Great Alternative to treat mental illness and reduce the dosages if possible. Tree Meditations and Nature Rests can lower insulin resistance, blood sugar and blood pressure, but Politicians have made Public Parks very Dangerous because of Crime Sprees and Crime Waves, so Lowering Rents to buy a Home with a Backyard with Cameras would be better.

I call for the creations of Buddhist-Hindu-Taoist-Confucianist-Shinto Psychiatric Asylums, Mental Institutions, Behavioral Rehabilitation Centers, and Medical Hospitals here in Florida and All Across the United States so we may sit, hug and heal with Sacred Trees to Connect with God and His and Mother Earth's Healing Powers and Wisdom, as unfortunately there are way too many Holy Christian Cross Hospitals that would force us Buddhists, Hindus, Taoists, Confucianists, and Shintos to give up on our Religious Faith-Based Sacred Trees Healings just to be medically and mentally treated by Catholic Nuns in Catholic Hospitals in a Christian Monopoly here in the United States.

I Sincerely Thank You, ACLU of Florida, for reading this Email. 

Take Care! 🌳🧘🏻‍♂️🧘🏻‍♀️🧘🏻🧘🏽‍♂️🧘🏾‍♀️🧘🏿‍♂️🧘🏼‍♀️🧘‍♂️🧘🏼‍♂️🧘‍♀️🌳🌏🌎🌤️

Sincerely,

Derek Hernandez Fuentes Luna (aka Derek Padron)

[murdcrofcrows]

we'll tell our stories on these walls. every year, measure how tall and just like a work of art, we'll tell our stories on these walls. let the years we're here be kind. let our hearts, like doors, open wide, settle our bones like wood over time, give us bread, give us salt, give us wine.

inspo ・ visuals ・ threads ・ wcs ・ playlist ・ pinterest 

( general stats. )

— name : santiago manuel díaz muñoz — nickname(s) : santi, san, sir — date of birth :  april 2nd ( 44 years old ) — occupation : retired eaa psyops specialist / private investigator / silver linings commander — nationality : chilean-east atlantean — ethnicity : chilean & basque — religion : christian— catholic  — residence : burnington — gender : cis man ( he / him ) — orientation : homosexual, homoromantic — status : married to lindsay o’halloran

( physical & mental characteristics. )

— voiceclaim / accent : pedro pascal & spanish accent — height :  5’11” / 180 cm — body type : muscular, athletic, strong — hair colour : black — eye colour : dark brown — dominant hand : left  — tattoos : several that all have meaning. inca lily behind his left ear that he got matching with one of his sisters, compass tattoo on his wrist an ode to his father and one of his greatest skills,  'i love you' in his mother's hand writing at the crook of his elbow inner arm, the letters ' L O ' on his left hand between his index finger and thumb with ' V E ' in the same place on the right hand— this has two meanings his partner's initials on the hand closest to his heart and it spells love when put together, and five small wolves on random places around his body that signify him and his siblings who he shares a close bond with and his father used to call them his ' manada de lobos ' which means wolf pack. — piercings : none — physical health : in excellent health condition, has spent most of his life doing regular physical activity and training. he continues to keep up with his fitness. he does need reading glasses for fine print though. — scars : two inch scar under his chin from jumping off the sofa as a child wanting to fly and hitting it on the coffee table needing stitches, several without much explanation from his years in the military and working outdoors. — style : tactical clothing, casual, work/hiking boots, flannels, outdoor wear- see pinterest for examples — conditions : attention deficit and anxiety as a child he regulates through his many different years of conditioning and training.

( personality stats. )

— qualities : survivalist ・ tactical ・ compassionate ・ selfless ・ helpful ・ optimistic — flaws : worried ・ stubborn ・ evasive ・ avoidant ・ suspicious — mbti : estj — moral alignment : neutral good — temperament : sanguine-choleric — enneagram : 7w6 - the pathfinder — soul type : warrior — zodiac :  aries sun ・ aquarius moon ・libra rising

( background check. )

— birthplace : puente alto, chile — intelligence : above average — education : equivalent to high school diploma ・ certificates in psychology & human behavior — skills : heavy survivalist skills ・ psychology ・ advanced military combat ・ master tracking ・ engineering (basic) ・ hunting ・ fishing ・ trapping ・ intelligence/analytical (the ability to read situations and people well) ・ advanced first aid and first responder training ・multilingual ・ cooking ・ carpentry ・ leadership — likes : family ・ coffee ・ cooking ・ lindsay ・ quiet mornings in bed ・ tequila ・ the sound of the waves hitting rocks and sand ・ fresh socks・ teaching something new ・ corny jokes ・ the sound of laughter ・ smiling so big his face hurts  ・ spice ・ helping people — dislikes :  bigotry ・ afterglow ・ mayonnaise  ・ too many people in the kitchen ・ not being able to help ・ not protecting his loved ones ・ television shows ・ piercings ・ too restrictive clothing ・ small confined spaces — languages : can speak arabic, french, italian, spanish, portuguese, mandarin, japanese, hindi, urdu, and some korean, pieces of african languages and other indo-european languages — pet (s) : none

( facts. )

lindsay and santiago got married years ago in an effort to signify their commitment to each other and these days, you don’t know how long you have. they haven’t told any of their family and friends yet, however.

loves to cook. being heavily fond of his mother growing up, he spent a lot of time in the kitchen and has memorized most of her recipes. unfortunately he has no ability to cook small meals because of the big family he comes from, so there are often leftovers or he’s feeding lots of people. 

helped maisie with their nightmares and continuously helps with their ptsd suffered from losing their mother / watching her die

is often seen as a father like figure to people, but beau clary and ashton ryder are definitely his most son-like surrogates

[xinalith]

background.

thousands of years ago, humans conjured up the beliefs of all-powerful deities that were given the titles of God. hundreds of stories with different ideas and beliefs agreed upon by millions, passing down through generations and into modern day. whilst many Gods have been lost over time, the belief of there being an all-powerful being—or several—who created everything remains today, regardless of religion.

that is also when the idea of the demon was born.

a foul creature originating from the underworld, from hell, from wherever one may believe. a manipulative being that hunts souls and toys with humanity through fear, violence or bad luck. on the other hand, many also believe these creatures can grant any wish wanted, all for a dreadful price. they are often grouped under the supernatural conspiracy linking to ghosts and the undead, but are notably formed from religion.

xinalith is a demonic entity created accidentally by the sheer belief of humanity. curious beings, greedy desiree’s, performing rituals to summon a demon to either quench the thirst for knowledge or fulfil a desperate wish. after a long while, xinalith was born in the inner depths of the infernal realm, and would be summoned to fulfil a contract.

except, this did not happen. Xinalith was a bloodthirsty creature who had just been born. they were starving, confused, violent. those who summoned them were consumed immediately in the most grotesque way imaginable.

now, Xinalith is a powerful demon who is able to wander the mortal realm in a human form. they normally are seen in a male body, with messy black hair and attire dating back to the 1800s, victorian era. they wear dark shades to protect their eyes from the harsh light, their crimson hues mirroring the blood they crave. they go by a human name most of the time—Victor—but will also answer to Xinalith.

they are able to revert to their demon form to save their energy, but they do not carry the same conscious. their feral mind will dominate and they will become extremely violent. their form is also tall, disgusting and they possess no eyes, so often use a form of echo location to hunt humans or animals. more detail of their demonic form will be revealed as time goes on.

Xinalith only cares about one thing. power. they will strike deals with mortals, granting them anything they want within their power so long as they get something in return. they will never do favours for free. they do not care about human emotions. to them, humans are mere pawns to get them to where they want.

to become the most powerful demon within the hells.

. . . APPEARANCE.

mortal form: 6'3. messy, dark hair. dark shades. crimson, almond eyes. 1800s victorian attire. lanky body frame.

demon form: 8'4. pale body, long black hair. no eyes. a wide, fanged mouth that reaches their cheeks. long, black-tainted claws. a skeletal-like tail. often hunched over due to the ability to walk on four legs. pale, sharp horns that are tainted black at the ends. black tongue.

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

We are living through a great showdown between hysteria and reason. On one side stand the adherents to the cult of transgenderism, hawking their hocus pocus about gendered souls and self-authentication through castration. On the other side stand those of us who know that biology is real, and that every cell in the human body is sexed, and that a man is as likely to become a woman as that chalice of wine is to become the blood of Christ during Mass (apologies, Catholics).

You’ll never guess which side some New Atheists are taking in this clash between delusion and truth. The crazy side. The side that says a bloke with a beard and balls can literally be a lesbian. Which is infinitely more cranky than the idea that a bloke with a beard and balls can literally be the Son of God. How did rationalist bros, those secularists on steroids, those Dawkins acolytes whose hobby for years was to make fun of the faithful, become devotees of such a strange, post-truth sect?

One by one, atheists are falling at the altar of trans. This week a Twitterfeed called The New Atheists slammed Richard Dawkins for becoming a TERF. Dawkins is a rarity in the new rationalist ranks: he thinks people with penises are men, not women, just as bread is bread, not the body of Christ. He is ‘utterly confused’, decreed his angry apostates. Biology ‘isn’t black and white, it’s a full spectrum of colour just like a rainbow’, they said. This hippyish belief that humans can pick their sex from a multicoloured smorgasbord is entirely an article of faith, of course, not science. Behold rationalism’s turncoats.

We’ve witnessed Neil deGrasse Tyson, America’s best-known scientist, bow to the creed of gender-as-feeling. In a TikTok video he said ‘XX/XY chromosomes are insufficient’ when it comes to reading someone’s sex, because what people feel matters along with their biology. So someone might feel mostly female one day but ‘80 per cent male’ the next, which means they’ll ‘remove the make-up’ and ‘wear a muscle shirt’. Sir, that’s cross-dressing; it does nothing to refute the truth of chromosomes, which absolutely do tell us what sex a person is. As destransitioner Chloe Cole said to Tyson, you’re ‘confusing basic human biology with cosmetics’.

We’ve seen Matt Dillahunty, a leading American atheist, promote the mystic cry that there’s a difference between ‘what your chromosomes are’ and your ‘gender identity’. ‘Transwomen are women’, he piously declares, perhaps keen to prove that while he might be fond of bashing the old religions, he has not one cross or blasphemous word to say about the new religion. Well, no one wants to be excommunicated from polite society.

Stephen Fry is another godless lover of science who appears to have converted to the trans belief. Phillip Pullman, Stewart Lee and others who were once noisy cheerleaders for rationalism are likewise strikingly reserved on this new ideology, this devotional movement which, among other things, invites young women to submit themselves to bodily mortification in order that they might transubstantiate into ‘men’. Seems like something a rationalist should question.

Then there’s Humanists UK. Even Britain’s most influential God-free organisation has thrown its lot in with the Flat Earthism of the post-sex ideology. It entreated the British government not to change the definition of sex in the Equality Act to mean ‘biological sex’. Why? Because some people have a mysterious inner gender – soul? – which apparently counts for more than their biological sex when it comes to the question of which social spaces they should be allowed to enter. Forget biology, forget science; make feeling king. Some women resigned from Humanists UK over what they viewed as its abandonment of ‘compassionate, scientific [and] rational’ principles in favour of the unreality of gender subjectivity.

Witness the treachery of the atheists. Yesterday’s warriors for rationalism are now footsoldiers of postmodern delirium. The religion-bashers who came to prominence in the 2000s now pray to the gods of gender correctness, whether from fear of cancellation or because they really have had a Damascene conversion to the idea that feelings override reality; that scientific truth must sometimes play second fiddle to our flattering of the self-esteem of men who say they’re women, women who say they’re men, and presumably mere mortals who claim to be God. After all, if Dave with his dick and five o’clock shadow can literally be a woman, why shouldn’t Gary be the Second Coming? Subjectivity rules, no?

The rationalist bluster of the New Atheists was all sound and fury, it seems. The minute a real struggle over reason exploded into public life, they vacated the battlefield or joined the other side, crying ‘transwomen are women!’ as they went to signal their fidelity to the new faith. It’s easy to bash the old religions, especially Christianity. Newspaper columns, invites to literary festivals and conference halls full of the fawning godless middle class awaited those who said: ‘Jesus walking on water? As if!’ The consequences of deviating from the trans ideology are far more severe. Columns are taken away, invites evaporate, the middle classes will gather to scorn not cheer. It is hard to avoid the conclusion that some public atheists value their reputations more than rationalism.

What makes their desertion of reason even more galling is that they’ve done it in response to a neo-religion that really is harming the young. Fundamentalist Christians might try to convert gay kids out of their homosexuality, but this new religion mutilates them out of it, by transing young lesbians into ‘boys’ and gay lads into ‘girls’. Faith schools might promote zany miracle stories to their pupils, but this new cult imbues kids with far more disorientating beliefs about 72 genders and girldick and lesbians with penises. The old religions frown on blasphemy, and so does this new one, with its treatment of any ‘denier’ of its theological criteria as a social leper. Especially if the ‘denier’ is a woman: yes, this religion also hates uppity women. And yet it is at this moment, with all this unfolding, that some rationalists take a break from rationalism. It is moral cowardice in the garb of social justice.

Others go further than to criticise the complicity of some New Atheists with modern unreason. They say these godless agitators are to blame for the new madness. In chasing God from society, in further weakening the church, they ‘created a void that a new, dangerous ideology [has] filled’, says Tim Stanley at the Daily Telegraph. Kill God, get trans. Which means that even Dawkins, TERF-ish as he is, is partly culpable for the lunacy he now laments.

I think there’s something in this. But the problem is not that the New Atheists made a ‘void’ that others rushed to fill. It’s that they actively helped to foster the very hyper-atomisation that underpins an ideology like transgenderism. With their promotion of the post-God and post-humanist belief that human beings are nothing more than genetic machines, bundles of DNA in a pitiless world without meaning, the New Atheists contributed to our era’s great, tragic retreat of the individual from the social world into the self. From the external world of connection and engagement into the diminished universe of genetic determinism, bodily transformation and jealous cultivation of one’s own narcissistic virtue.

So, yes, there is a line from Dawkins to trans. Dawkins’ contribution to elite thinking was colossal, especially with his 1976 book, The Selfish Gene. He made evolutionary biology mainstream, the idea that we humans are not as special as we thought. Our universe has ‘no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind pitiless indifference’, he once wrote: ‘DNA neither cares nor knows. DNA just is. And we dance to its music.’ Dance to its music. The most striking thing about Dawkins and other neo-Darwinists was not their atheism, said the great moral philosopher Mary Midgley, but their ‘fatalism’. In The Solitary Self, her stinging critique of the new evolutionists, Midgley rebuked Dawkins for his depiction of ‘helpless humans enslaved by a callous-like fate-figure’. Only his fatalistic view was more deadening than that of Ancient scribes, she wrote, because this time the ‘cosmic bully’ controlling our fate is not a ‘pagan deity’ but ‘a chemical, DNA, a part of our own cells’. ‘Like other organisms’, she lamented, we’re seen as ‘lumbering robots ruled by [biology]’.

The Dawkins view grew in influence in the 1980s and 1990s. It was given expression in the soulless technocracy of the New Atheism. It merged with other atomising trends of our time – the decline of social institutions, the rise of a culture of fear, and, yes, the withering of religion – to exacerbate a view of the individual as utterly alone, a genetic creature more than a social one, ruled not by reason but by instructions sent by our DNA. ‘Biological Thatcherism’, Midgley called it.

And here’s the thing: if we are our biology, and that alone, doesn’t it make sense that individuals who want to change themselves would feel the need to change their biology? If we dance to the music of our DNA, doesn’t it follow that people who want to become something else, something different, will have the urge to change the music of their DNA? In short, there is a link, surely, between the post-1970s reduction of the human being to mere genetics and this new millennium’s fad for trying, however forlornly, to alter oneself at the level of genetics. Taking hormones, cutting bits off, removing testes, removing ovaries, injecting, mutilating, pursuing a ceaseless, pitiless war against one’s very biological essence. That the trans movement, and identitarianism more broadly, treats the body as the sole site of change should not be surprising in our era of biological Thatcherism where there is no society, no morality, no good, no evil – just bodies, stardust made flesh, all following genetic impulses. There is a close relationship between the modern ideologies of atomisation and the fruitless infernal war the young now wage on their own bodies, on their DNA prisons we’re all told we inhabit.

Perhaps Dawkins is the grandfather of transgenderism. I jest. But I do think we need to wriggle free from this clash between biological determinism on one side and self-destructive biological ‘liberation’ on the other. Biology is real, but it does not control us. You cannot change your sex but you can change your circumstances. That, however, requires that we go beyond both the biological Thatcherism of the new sciences and the neoliberal self-regard of identity politics and rediscover our place in a world of other people and other ideas. We’re social creatures, not ‘lumbering robots’ to be controlled or, worse, carved up and replaced with new parts.

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

Brendan O’Neill is spiked’s chief political writer and host of the spiked podcast, The Brendan O’Neill Show. Subscribe to the podcast here. His new book – A Heretic’s Manifesto: Essays on the Unsayable – is available to order on Amazon UK and Amazon US now.

[mysterycharacterflowers]

Round 2; A bouquet of poppy, zygopetalum, echeveria, dandelion, yucca, twinspur , lotus, tagetes, ursinia, purple hyacinth and hibiscus Vs A bouquet of blue and purple daisies, desert lilies and black tulips

If you know who they are, or you are pretty sure of it, please don't tell until this poll has ended!

First, let's talk about the bouquet of poppy, zygopetalum, echeveria, dandelion, yucca, twinspur , lotus, tagetes, ursinia, purple hyacinth and hibiscus

Meaning and why these flowers were chosen: Poppy, for fertility, remembrance, strength, hope, resilience, sleep, and peace. When we meet her, she is stumbling through the wake of her trauma--including grief for both herself and her dead child— without any real goal of recovery, trying to cope through substance abuse, but over a long hard walk she gradually uncovers her inner strength Zygopetalum, for fertility and spiritual connection between people. Fertility is relevant because her pregnancy as a young teen overturned her life; spiritual connection, meanwhile, doesn’t apply in a soulmates way like would be typical for this flower, but instead as a moment of profound enlightenment that she experiences and later relates to someone who very nearly understands. Echeveria, for endurance. She’s been through a whole lot, curled up in a ball, got back up and kept going. Also because it’s one of a few plants called hens-and-chicks, and she was a mother. Dandelion, for determination, joy, and youthful thoughts. She’s just a teenager with big dreams, a love of stories, a history of tomfoolery, and a not irreparably broken soul. Yucca, for new opportunities, loyalty, and purity. She has to leave home to find hope; she is a good friend, or at least she’s trying very hard; and she’s certainly not ‘pure’ by her conservative quasi-Christian mother and culture’s standards, but whose fault is that and what does that mean anyway? Twinspur, for fidelity and friendship. She reconnects with an old friend and tries to accept who they are, their journey, and what they’ve done despite the rift in her since she last knew them; she also ends up befriending/befriended by someone she justly punched in the face before, so there’s that. I also chose this flower by its name because she’s a twin; that’s also complicated. Lotus, for spiritual growth and transcendence. She went looking for it, with her friend who was far more interested in it than she was at first, and she certainly found it even the transcendence suffered for it. Tagetes, for faith (and use in religious contexts), creativity, jealousy, and loss. Religious faith is very important to people in her life and was formative, in an abusive manner, to her in the childhood she’s only partly left; her mother clung to fundamentalist religion in a time that had seen a lot of change, and because of this shamed her all the more for her perceived transgressions against polite society. (After experiencing that, she wound up trying to combat religion-backed colonialism and generally being unwilling to let others be hurt with religion as the weapon like it was for her.) Creativity is a central part of her mind—she pranks, she explores, she lets herself become enveloped in possibly silly ideas and fascinations. Jealousy is something she has for those with more privilege getting into situations not unlike hers and getting away with it, and for those without her knack for getting into trouble (and thus getting, in this case, unjustly punished); in other words the jealousy is for her siblings. The loss part is probably clear by now—loss of her child, loss of faith of varying kinds, loss of social acceptance. Ursinia, for temptation and innocent love; she fell for a man not the least bit worth it. Purple hyacinth, for playfulness and regret; connected in this case since her playful, adventurous nature was a part of what she was shamed for, loosely speaking, when her pregnancy came to light and with the aftermath. In other words, she was too much to be considered a good girl to begin with. Hibiscus, for youth, first love (little good though it did her), and the shortness of life; she was a child giving birth to a child who didn’t survive.

Description: A young woman—eventually admirable, never despicable—with a bad reputation kept small, a self-sabotaging streak that can’t compete with the actual sabotage other people deal to her, and quite a lot of self-loathing her parents don’t care or know to help her process. Desperately needs to be told that what she went through wasn’t funny, actually, but doesn’t know that until it’s actually said. The daughter of a lawyer and a miserable housewife, and it shows. Wildly eccentric when she’s not forcing self-effacement; gets more philosophical as she goes, and unlearns the hatred she was taught for her supposedly sinful body. Once constructs an alter ego whose name is a crude joke, but completely accidentally on her part. Chaotic good

Check their post here

Now, let's talk about the bouquet of blue and purple daisies, desert lilies and black tulips

Meaning: Desert lilies (redemption, resurrection) Black tulips (strength, elegance) Blue/purple daisies (blue: loyalty, trust, peace; purple: thoughtfulness, having fun, unity) Why these flowers were chosen: The desert lilies and black tulips symbolize his outside demeanor, someone intimidating and poised. (Plus, desert lilies are often grown in the desert, where the character resides.) On the other hand, the daisies show who he really is inside, being loyal, thoughtful, and caring. Plus, all the flowers match with his main color scheme! Description: A man in a very high position of power, with a reputation for being ruthless and willing to do anything to carry out his work. Because of this status, he's become very aware of himself and the fear that surrounds him, to the point of breaking his typical mold to lighten the mood (in his own, very cringey way) when things are looking glum. You'd be surprised to find out how thoughtful and genuinely kind he is; you'd also be surprised to find him at a local card game tournament, just less so. Seriously, he never shuts up about it. He has a big heart for those he cares for, though he acts practically heartless around those he doesn't. He has a terrible sense of humor and is the purest definition of a nerd, but he can still pack a punch when needed. He's even transgender (headcanon)

Check their post here

[tactiturn]

i’ve been thinking a lot about how we tend to separate the sacred from the everyday, and how that split between “spirit” and “matter” can get us into trouble. marion woodman talked about it in one of her lectures—this idea that western culture especially has elevated spirit as something pure and holy, while treating the body (and everything “earthy”) like a second-class citizen. we see it in the myth of eve and the serpent, where matter—literally “mother”—got shoved into the realm of sin and darkness, and spirit got to float off into the realm of light.

thing is, this attitude isn’t just about a bible story. it’s also about how we view ourselves. whenever we shove down our anger or jealousy or lust or grief, telling ourselves we should “rise above” all that, we’re basically saying our human messiness isn’t acceptable. and that, i think, is where addiction often steps in. if you’re stuck in a world that doesn’t want you to feel what you feel, it’s easy to see why so many people look for ways to escape—from booze, from food, from shopping, from endless doom-scrolling.

one of the coolest parts of woodman’s talk is her emphasis on honoring the feminine as embodied in this figure she calls the “black madonna.” it’s a symbol of the divine that’s fully down here with us on earth, not hanging out on some cloud. the black madonna is strong, messy, rooted in the body and the soil, and she’s not afraid of darkness—she sees it as the place where new things are born. that’s such a radical shift from traditions that say you have to follow strict rules and keep your “bad” impulses in a box if you want to stay spiritually clean.

that brings me to organized religion and why i think it’s so often part of the problem. don’t get me wrong—there’s value in having a community and a shared set of values, especially if it gives you comfort and a sense of purpose. but in many cases, these institutions have historically doubled down on the spirit vs. matter split. they push heaven or some transcendent realm as the “real” goal while treating the earth, the body, and especially women’s bodies as corrupt or lesser. and that has huge consequences, because if you think your body (and by extension the entire physical world) is just a testing ground for your soul, you might not care about it as much. you might ignore its signals, blame it for your problems, or see it as a temptation that has to be beaten into submission.

all of this can lead to a lot of shame, fear, and guilt—sometimes to the point where people give up on themselves or adopt a hyper-judgmental attitude toward everyone else. nobody wins in that scenario. personally, i think the best way forward is to reclaim our wholeness. we can still be spiritual beings, but let’s do it in a way that doesn’t make us hate our humanness. there’s something magical about realizing that the “divine” might be right here in the sweat and tears and mud of our everyday lives, not off in some perfect sphere.

when we start to pay attention to our own bodies—listening to that inner voice that says, “hey, i’m hurting, can we slow down?” or “i’m craving sweetness, but maybe it’s not actually chocolate i want, it’s emotional warmth”—we build a bridge between spirit and matter. we learn to hold tension between higher ideals and lower impulses, and in that tension, something new arises, something that actually respects both parts of who we are. that’s what woodman calls the emergence of a “third thing” or a new consciousness. it’s that moment when you’re no longer killing off half of yourself just to stay “good.”

honestly, i believe if people stopped treating this planet (and our own physical forms) like some moral prison we’re trying to escape from, we might actually solve a lot of global problems. we’d probably treat each other with more compassion, too, because once you accept you’ve got your own messy darkness, it’s harder to judge someone else’s.

anyway, that’s what’s been on my mind lately: that maybe if we can end the war between spirit and matter—if we can embrace our bodies, our emotional depths, and the earth as sacred—we might finally find a little more peace within ourselves and with each other. it’s not an easy road, especially when so many people keep telling us we have to choose between our souls and our bodies. but i think it’s worth trying to prove them wrong.

[mealvaan]

Lend an Ear

Under the banner of Garlemald, the Decurion would commit all manner of atrocities. It was here in the privacy of his bedroom that he indulged in his most shameful act, one that he could no longer justify as a sacrifice for the greater good.

There were curtains, he made sure of it; he penned with an inconsistent hand and still hid behind his mother's name. He found it made his heart all the easier to bear.

As a final precaution, he made sure to always start his letters with a lie.

Dear Gale,

Thank you for the garments. My little sister greatly appreciates them. We've not much to our name, and it's nice for her to have something for special occasions.

He indulged his quill in another dip. He couldn't even imagine what a sister of his would look like, or if he even had one. It was difficult to conjure the image of himself fresh-faced, inkblots in place of features. The lies died short and he moved onto the next paragraph.

Advice from Garlean political philosophy: If your negotiators show you what they want, you'll find out what they need. Not many people understand what they need, truly. You could apply this to your suitors. If you're able to glean why they want you in their words, you can glean what there is to offer in lieu of your hand. This way, it's also not as if you're giving something back. They remain ingratiated to you because unlike marriage, a favor is not a two-way street.

Alternatively, there is always the option of your more embarrassing suitors suffering an unfortunate 'accident'. In a hypothetical, of course.

He wondered what Gale Amante looked like to earn the admiration that they did. It was difficult to glean an attractive Ishgardian in his mind; those he'd met struck an unflattering silhouette in bulky chainmail uniform and square helms, making it all the easier to knock their heads around. Perhaps under the helms there were pretty faces. Unfortunately, no face was pretty in the throes of war, nor with glassy, dead eyes. The real star they lived in was not a romantic frame of reference.

He imagined Gale penning this letter. Perhaps girlishly, kicking their feet towards the ceiling and smiling puckered. Hiding his letters in their bedside drawer or under their pillow, then retrieving them moments later just to read them again. It was an indulgent, fluttering thought, one that he knew to plague only the hearts of schoolgirls.

Forgive me. Killing has become such a recurring thread in our lives that it's become part of my comical lexicon. I trust you understand that I'm not truly suggesting it.

Though, sometimes the sinless acts of man become their own kind of violence. We often speak ill of the common traumas: those wrought in red, black and blue. However, I find the trauma of social expectation to be far more permeable, and profess far more damage to the soul.

What of the systematic trauma we impose on our Viera young, that they must conform to a path of solitude for characteristics only developed epochs into their lives? What of the trauma of religion, where one's life is considered only valuable when it suits the mold of a particular philosophy's law? Do these not also kill in a way more permeable than the mercy of death? Have they not killed historically?

A deep breath wracked through him to stay his shaking hand. This was hedonism, and as monastic as he acted, he knew it well. A terrible pall took hold of him as he scribbled.

In the face of this suppression, is killing truly the worst that man can commit? Amid the trauma of societal ills, the imposition of a false truth in the name of culture, violence is the most direct translation of our inner will to worldly form. Death may be our only way to overcome these impositions. Certainly, the change of the guard is inevitable, but to tie the pace of change to the slow roll of the generation is wilful ignorance.

Philosophy aside, it feels good, cathartic, an instrument of closure, does it not? To impose your will? Make a tangible mark upon the world where words fail to?

It was as if at the end of the sentence he came to. This letter could not be sent. It was more akin to a diary entry or a confessional. He couldn't burden his mark with thoughts he wouldn't even express under his own name.

Yet as his eyes met the nearby candle, he couldn't bring the letter to bear. He had to send it. He had to understand if anyone felt the way he did. If Gale understood him as they had time and time again.

He buffered the missive with what he thought was a lie.

I am still saddened to see so many fall to the Empire, though.

And he signed it.

Sincerely yours,

Nerva aan La'phir

And he sealed it.