#and defining a god through the absence of one

[protect-namine]

it's funny 'cause I was reading up on orphism because. I wanted to write a fic of venti given how the church of favonius somewhat mirrors catholicism (or is the closest equivalent in genshin) but I also think. orphic dionysus venti. just imagine it!! I can totally make that work in a fic

[stellocchia]

The fact that, oftentimes, even when the Sanses involved in all the Multiverse stuff still have living brothers they're supposedly attached to, those brothers still become irrelevant to their story has always saddened me a bit.

Especially because the Papyruses have the potential to be just as interesting as their brothers.

Like, imagine being Horrortale Paps and your brother gets taken away. Your brother who is the only one holding the little community you live in together. Your brother who is the one making sure that, despite the food scarcity, you still got something in your plate every day.

You worry endlessly about him. You spend days hoping he's still alive, holding fiercely onto that hope that has always defined you. And nobody else believes it. Sans had been starving himself for years, he was bound to drop dead at some point, they say. They all knew it would happen, and they didn't know how to comfort Papyrus when he still refused to believe it.

Papyrus learns to be a leader in his brother's absence. He learns to take charge, become more assertive, and stand up to Undyne. And yet, through it all, he still has the strength to remain kind. He still follows his passion for puzzles. He still cooks any chance he gets. His brother isn't there to act as a buffer between him and the world, so he has to adapt, but adapting doesn't mean giving up everything that is at his core.

And then, one day, Sans comes back. And he has some friends with him. He goes by Horror now, and he's got a bunch of new traumas to deal with. And his friends do too. Killer, Cross, Dust, they're all huddled together, hesitant to approach. Killer's putting on a front, he's all sharp edges and deceiving smiles, Cross is being all formal, he's walking on eggshells constantly, as if Papyrus would hurt him if he dared to step over a line that isn't even there, and Dust doesn't say a word. He doesn't even look at Papyrus.

Papyrus welcomes them all to his home. Horror seems uneasy at first. Papyrus is fine after all. He survived and he and Snowdin are both thriving as much as they can. For a bit, their chat is awkward and stilted, but, eventually, Horror asks: "You don't need me here anymore, do ya bro?". And Papyrus, who never gave up hope and never changed any more than he needed reassures him: "I don't need you, but I would like it if you stayed. I would like to know you're safe" and he's as loud as he's ever been, as bright and positive and, well, Horror can't say no to his little brother.

Cross, Killer, and Dust can also stay as often as they want. His brother has a big heart and he won't care about their bloody pasts. And, yeah, Killer and Cross will probably go back and forth between the Epic Sanses and Horrortale, but at least they have some stability now. At least they know that there is someone out there in the Multiverse who won't look at their scars, their high level, and their EXP and immediately think they're the scum of the Earth, and that's... well, that's nice.

On the other hand, imagine being Underswap Papyrus, and your brother was never taken from you, he chose to leave. And everyone assumes it must have been your fault. Perhaps you were too protective, and that's why. Perhaps you didn't support him enough. Perhaps you didn't get along. Perhaps you were straight-up abusive. The rumors abound both out in the Multiverse and in your own home because Blue didn't go quietly. He doesn't do quiet.

He said goodbye to all his friends while parading around with two literal gods and then he vanished into a golden portal. He dismissed all of your concerns and almost resented you for them. Because he's not weak he's not stupid and he can take care of himself. And you agree with all of those points, he's the coolest after all, but also you know nothing about the Multiverse and there are gods out there, so you can't know if being the coolest is gonna be enough to keep him safe.

Papyrus was never social. He got along with his brother, Ms. Muffet, and the man behind the door. That's his entire circle of friends. And now one of them is gone, and many more people than before have turned hostile. Because Blue is a nice person, he's nice to everyone, he's outgoing and social, of course, he wouldn't just leave his brother unless he did something to deserve that! Especially when everyone knows that Papyrus' HOPE is so low and that he's been struggling with depression for a long time. Blue wouldn't just leave.

Except he did.

Except he left.

Except he's not there anymore, because the Star Sanses could offer him glory and fame, and the love of thousands of AUs, and Papyrus could give him none of that. The only thing he could offer was his support for Blue's dreams and his unconditional love. And it was obvious to both of them that those two things could never be enough.

Papyrus doesn't change, because he was always well-rounded enough to make it by himself, just like his brother was. They were two whole people who never completed one another.

If they meet again, it won't be a sweet reunion like for the Horrortale brothers. It will be in the Omega Timeline if their AU ever gets destroyed. And they will be strangers making awkward small talk that will never develop into anything more than that, because neither of them wants the other to stay.

However, perhaps there in the Omega Timeline Papyrus can find a nice ending to his story. There are people there who are rejects just as much as he is. Who have wild rumors spread about them that are more or less founded than those about him. Other people who lost everything and are trying to find themselves with some help.

And maybe one day he can meet other Papyruses who dealt with being left behind, willingly or not. Horrortale Paps certainly wouldn't mind acquiring a lanky brother too

[austinbutlerslovers]

The Belt

Label Mature 18+

Summary During the cast party for his latest film, you spoke very poorly about Austin to a co-star, confessing your dissatisfaction about him being overly controlling when he is stressed at home and a neglectful workaholic when he is not.

When word gets back to Austin about what you said, he is livid because you didn't tell him and he prides himself on his professional reputation. Despite him giving you everything you desire, you still remain unsatisfied, behaving like a brat. He decides it's time to punish you again teaching you a lesson to make you behave.

When he summons you to his office, you already know he's going to punish you and that somehow, word got back to him. If he weren't so dominating, you might even enjoy it. However, he loves to make you red and raw until the very end, providing you with sexual relief only when he's ready.

Established relationship married 💍

⚠️ Hardcore Smut ⚠️ Male dominance • spankings• name calling•choking •overstimulation •nipple play • biting • manhandling •manipulation •oral sex on male by force • clit play• body slapping • humiliation kink • dirty talk•oral on female •cum eating•multiple orgasms

You guys voted hard for this……😬🫡 💀 Austin Punishment level 💯

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The Belt

Austin sat in the leather reading chair of his office. The room was a grand sanctuary adorned with movie posters memorabilia and mantled awards that attested to his successful acting career. The city skyline glimmered through the expansive window behind him contrasting sharply with his tensed demeanor.

He glared at you upon entering the room his fingertips pointed together on his lips, his hands were interlaced palms apart, and his elbows were firmly rested on the armrests.

He was in a pose of deep contemplation, his legs spread wide one tapping restlessly in agitation the only movement betraying his otherwise calm demeanor.

He looked immaculate wearing a sleeveless black tank top accentuating his muscular defined arms. His leather pants hugged snugly around his firm legs, the material molding to every curve and contour. A belt adorned his waist fastened with an ornate silver buckle that gleamed in the low lighting.

He was the definition of a sex god. His sandy brown hair tousled perfectly contrasting sharply with his furrowed brow. His blue eyes were intense and piercing as they bore into yours, making it impossible to look away.

You understood exactly why he summoned you to his office of your shared estate. A sense of apprehension filled the room as you awaited his response. You knew full well he was displeased with your recent behavior.

There was an unspoken dynamic in your marriage. The more he sought to control you, the stronger your desire to rebel, the tension between you two increasing drastically whenever he was away.

This time, when he returned from filming his latest movie, his absence once again fueled the familiar strain on your marriage and feeling neglected, you pushed back against his control upon his return. The intensifying conflict finally reaching its peak at one of his events.

During the extravagant cast party celebrating his latest film, you committed a cardinal sin: divulging intimate details about your marriage with him.

After a few drinks and meaningful conversation with his co star at the party you began to blabber about Austin over the loud music.

“He’s profoundly loving and handsome on one hand always making me feel special and adored.” You confided taking another sip of your drink before continuing. “But on the other hand, he has this intense need for control over me. When he isn’t obsessing over every detail of my life, he’s a total workaholic, letting ‘his craft’ overshadow everything he does and completely neglecting me.” You added downing the last of your drink. Even though your words are true, his co star gave you a concerned look, it didn’t sound like Austin at all.

Those words would come back to haunt you because if there was one thing Austin prided himself on, it was his reputation.

Word reached Austin swiftly due to it sounding so out of character. His co star only relaying to him.

“You might want to make sure your wife is okay, she mentioned something about feeling neglected and controlled?”

The remark ignited a fury inside of Austin. Though he didn't show it outwardly, he was seething inside. You had been behaving so well, and he was giving you everything you desired while he was away filming his newest film; your betrayal cut deep.

Now in his office as you stood in front of him the intensity of his gaze bore down on you, the tension in the air was thick. You knew from his clenched jaw and furrowed brow that he was deeply displeased. It was in the way his eyes narrowed, glinting with a mixture of disappointment and frustration.

You had seen this look before feeling the sting of his reprimands. It was a familiar pattern, one that left no room for doubt. As you stood there chest tight with anxiety, you braced yourself for the inevitable consequences of your disobedience.

"Well?" Austin demanded his voice ripping through the silence of the room. "Did you or did you not share personal information about me with my co star last night?" He inquired.

You took a deep breath before answering already feeling the depth of his dissatisfaction.

"Austin, I didn't say anything," you lied, your voice trembling slightly under his intense gaze as he glared at you from his chair.

Austin took a sharp inhale and sighed heavy with disappointment.

"As soon as I ask the one you told, it’s going to get back to me exactly what you said. It's better you tell me now, and I punish you, than I find out from the other person and punish you even harder." He relays as his eyes narrow awaiting your response.

Your breath catches in your throat from his intense gaze. You understand exactly what he means by ‘punish you harder.’ No matter what you know he wont be able to contain his temper for what you did. With your heart beating wildly, you nod in acknowledgment.

"Alright, Austin, I did say some personal things about you. I told your co star you were extremely controlling over me, a workaholic who when isnt obsessing over me, ignores me completely," as soon as the words leave your mouth, Austin's eyes burn with displeasure.

"Bend over my lap "he orders in agitation.

“Austin this is exactly what I mean by your control! You can’t discipline me like this I’m a grown woman!” You say firmly standing up for yourself for the first time wanting a more reasonable way to resolve the issue.

Austin remains stoic and places his hands calmly on the arm rests of his chair.

"Age has nothing to do with it, it’s about respect," he says with his tone resolute.

“You're my wife, I keep you safe, I feed you, I clothe you, I deeply care for you. Nothing you have is yours without me, and yet you disrespect me at a party hosted for my film? in front of my co stars ?" he questions, his voice rising in anger on each word.

After a contemplative pause he makes his decision.

"You’ll get your spankings with my hand for disrespecting me and then youll get the belt for lying to me about it."

Your heart drops

“Please Austin not the belt!” you beg, your legs almost give out knowing you’ll be sore for hours if not a full day.

“You brought this on yourself,” Austin replies sternly. “You need to understand the consequences of your actions.”

"Austin, I confessed!" you plead, your voice filled with desperation, hoping to reduce the punishment but It only enrages Austins and he erupts.

"But you lied first! You lied to me to cover your own ass because you knew what was coming. Now get over here and kneel," he snaps, and you hesitate. Your heart pounding loudly in your chest from the adrenaline.

“Don’t make me get up,” he says sternly, and by the tone in his voice you quickly come to kneel in front of him.

“Take off my belt,” he demands staring down at your kneeling form and you slowly reach to his waist, unclasping the buckle as you shudder at its thickness.

All you can think of is how painful it will be snapping across your ass as you pull its thick length through the loops of his pants.

As you work, your forearm brushes against his hardening cock. His pleasure is evident, he will become extremely harder as he spanks you. The power play of his dominance is too intoxicating.

Once the belt is free, you hold to up to him, but he pushes it back.

“You hold the belt this time while I’m spanking you so you know what’s next,” he says adding another layer to your apprehension.

You hope maybe he will soften his resolve if you apologize first this time.

"I'm sorry, Austin," you say quickly, your voice trailing off as you await his response.

"No you’re not sorry yet, but you will be.” He says eyes narrowing.

He firmly grabs your arm and swiftly pulls you across his lap. He positions you in a submissive posture over his knees, and you close your eyes bracing for the inevitable, as you hold his belt in your hands awaiting your punishment.

Austin rests his large hand on your skirt, rubbing it over the thin material as he speaks.

“You think you can get away with disrespecting and lying to me? You’ll learn your lesson tonight.” He pauses, letting the words sink in before continuing. “Now, let’s see how sorry you really are.”

He raises his hand and brings it down with a resounding swat on the back of your skirt. The force of the spank rocks you on his lap, but it doesn’t hurt.

He brings his hand down several more times, each spank forceful enough that you begin to feel the heat radiating from the impact. His cock pokes into your stomach with each strike in rhythm with the sound of the spanks echoing the room.

All you can think of is what is to come, how he will pull your skirt up and pull your panties down and the spankings will really begin.

As you feel Austin begin to peel your skirt up, you tense feeling the material slide up your thighs and over your panties, exposing your ass.

“You wanted to test my patience?” He says gripping and squeezing the soft skin of your ass with a seductive dominance.

“You’re about to find out exactly what happens when you push me too far.” He rasps and hooks his hand into the band of your panties sliding them down and revealing your pussy.

His cock pokes into your stomach at the sight.

“You’re fucking wet!” he confirms firmly grabbing your thighs pulling them apart.

“Mmm" you whimper from his rough handling. “Moaning too?" He questions. “Why are you so fucking wet this is a punishment?" He demands but you have no answer.

He spreads your ass cheeks apart, squeezing each one and exposing your pussy. Then he realizes he doesn’t just want to spank you anymore he wants to fuck you.

"I don't think spanking and using my belt is going to cut it this time.” he says sternly.

Your eyes grow wide as he firmly presses his large hand on your back holding you in place in his lap.

“What are you going to do Austin?" You ask panicked.

"You will have to wait and see. But for now I have a special punishment for my defiant little whore wife who gets wet from spankings."

Before you can protest Austin claps his hand hard on your bare ass cheeks in rapid succession intensifying each smack harder and faster until they are burning red. You begin to squirm in his lap with each sharp clap of your skin echoing in the room.

He alternates striking the bottom of one cheek to the other relentlessly harder on each pass until you begin to moan. Your skin starts tingling as you go numb from the pain. With each loud clap, you begin to grunt through gritted teeth, struggling to endure, your body tensing with each strike. Sensing your limits, Austin finally stops and rests his hand gently on your reddened skin.

“You’re handling these spankings like a pro” he says with a smirk playing on his lips. His touch becomes gentler and he moves his hand in slow deliberate circles over your reddened skin soothing the sting away.

Then he delivers a series of sporadic, loud resounding spanks, each one harder than the last, until you are struggling in his lap, groaning to endure.

“Austin …please” you beg through gasps. When he doesn’t stop at your limit your cries begin to mix with the sound of each impact, echoing through the room.

“Take it,” Austin growls low and commanding. “Feel every bit of it.” He continues. The intensity of each spank sends shock waves of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

You gasp for air as your body constricts against him. Your muscles tighten with every spank until desperate breathy noises escape your mouth in a mix of agony and ecstasy.

Austin suddenly stops with his hand lingering on your reddened skin.

“You’ve had enough for now,” he reassures, allowing you a moment to catch your breath.

Your entire being feels consumed by the intensity of his spankings. The heat and stinging sensation radiates from the aftermath of his relentless discipline but you know it’s only the beginning.

As you hang over Austin’s lap holding his belt you want to reach back and rub your soreness but you know he won’t allow that he isn’t done with your punishment yet.

Austin’s touch transitions to soothing again as he rubs down your back and traces his hands along your inner thighs, his fingers are firm yet firm gentle against your skin.

When he grabs the tender flesh of your ass, you flinch and cry out from the pain and he swiftly gives you two sharp swats on it intensifying the pain making you cry out and squirm even more.

“Hold still,” he orders angrily as he holds you tightly in place. You realize he will spank you even more if you disobey.

His breathing is heavy as he releases you revealing his arousal in the moment as he forces you to endure him rubbing your sore cheeks. You remain perfectly still wincing as you bear through the pain.

His hand changes to moving down your thighs with deliberate slowness before his fingers brush against your soaked pussy and you softly moan overwhelmed with the sensation.

The contrast between the intense stinging of his spanks and the tender teasing touch of his fingers against your pussy leaves you breathless and craving for more.

"Why are you moaning? Do you like it when I touch you like this? " he asks.

“Yes Austin” you beg “please more” You say feeling the pleasure course through your entire body as he continues.

“What makes you think you deserve to have me touch you like this hm?” he asks, his tone low and commanding.

He wants you to face him and takes ahold of your waist forcing you to sit up in his lap. You wince in pain when your skin makes contact with the slick leather of his pants rubbing against your soreness. Once you settle he studies your face locking eyes with you.

“With that smart mouth” he says holding your jaw firm in his grasp “you’re lucky I touch you at all,” he chastises but his gaze is intense and seductive unable to hide his desire for you.

“Show me your pussy,” he commands, and you obey, opening your legs wide in his lap and leaning back to hold onto his knees for support. The erotic sight enraptures him entirely and you hope that means he is done with your spankings.

With a skillful movement you slowly release his belt from your hand allowing the leather to slide through your palm until the buckle softly thuds against the floor.

You feel a surge of excitement when he doesn’t notice.

“I can’t see your pussy that way,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “Show me your full pussy.”

Wanting to prove your obedience, you take one hand and spread your pussy lips open with two fingers giving Austin a clear view of your wet entrance.

Austin’s eyes are fixated as his large hand moves with a deliberate slowness grazing his fingertips along your sensitive folds.

The touch sends shivers through your entire body making you relax in his lap as his fingers slide through your slick folds tracing the outline of your wet entrance.

He slowly circles your clit with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. Each touch is deliberate his thumb moving in slow tantalizing circles that send waves of pleasure radiating through you.

“You feel how wet you are for me?” he asks alternating between gentle strokes and firmer presses through your slick folds as he smirks at you.

“Y-yes, Austin,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your breath hitching at his soft touch.

His fingers slide lower teasing your entrance before returning to your clit increasing the intensity.

“Tell me how good it feels.”he says low and seductive.

“Austin it feels so good” you relent. Every touch, every word drives you closer to the edge, your body responding eagerly to his skilled hands.

“I can feel you trembling” he says with a grin as your thighs involuntarily shudder. You’re getting close” he observes with a devious stare.

“…-Yes…” you pant, the sensation of his touch is almost too much to bear as your breath hitches with each delicate stroke.

You begin to arch into his touch and he abruptly removes his hand leaving you yearning for more.

"Austin . . . Please " your beg almost at tears.

“You’re even wetter than I thought.” he observes, seeing your glistening folds.

“These spankings are a reward for you, aren’t they?” He asks glaring up to meet your gaze, his eyes piercing yours with intensity.

“No! Of course not Austin!,” you protest in shock.

“Let’s see how wet you get from me spanking your pussy, then,” he says with a sadistic gleam in his eye. With deliberate precision, he begins delivering sharp swats onto your spread pussy as you hold it open.

“Oww, ow!” you cry with each swat as jolts of pain shoot through your sensitive clit. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as he increases the intensity.

“Please, Austin, it hurts so much,” you finally whimper, feeling like the punishment is going on forever.

He looks up into your pleading eyes, his expression softening slightly.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me taking your punishment,” he says with a mix of sternness and affection as he looks over your body. “Let’s see if I can make you feel better.”

Austin pulls your shirt up, exposing your chest. His fingers gliding along your supple skin, caressing your breasts gently until your nipples harden under his touch then he catches one between his fingertips and rolls it, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“Does that feel better?” he asks, his tone softer “Do you want more?” His eyes search yours, waiting for your response.

"Y-yes …Austin” you say barely above a whisper wanting him to give you more. You know you’re still being punished somehow but you are relieved he isn’t spanking you anymore.

“Please keep touching me softly like this Austin,” you beg tilting your head back and replacing your hand to his knee, surrendering to his touch. He catches your other nipple between his fingers rolling it gently before giving it a firm squeeze making you gasp.

He watches your reactions intently a smirk of satisfaction playing on his lips at how easily you give in knowing what he can do.

His hand gently cups your breast and he splays his fingers out to squeeze and knead the soft flesh. His thumb brushes over your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine as he teases the buds.

He leans in and brushes his lips against your other nipple. His warm breath fanning across your skin heightening your arousal to a peak.

He takes your nipple into his mouth sucking it gently at first, then with more intensity drawing it in deeper. His tongue swirls around the peak, flicking it teasingly before he sucks hard and his teeth graze the sensitive flesh just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through you.

He continues to cup your other breast, squeezing it firmly digging his fingers into your flesh. He rolls your nipple between his fingers pinching and pulling it harder causing you to gasp and arch your back pushing your chest closer to his mouth.

He moves his mouth back and forth between each breast, lavishing attention, gently sucking and flicking his tongue across each nipple, eliciting soft moans and gasps from your lips. Then he releases sucking your left nipple with a wet pop, focusing all his attention on the right one.

He sucks it deeply into his mouth, his tongue pressing and flicking against it as his hand continues to tease and squeeze your other breast.

The combination of sensations makes your head spin every touch and suck of his mouth sending waves of pleasure coursing through your core until you are practically dripping with arousal for him.

He gently releases your nipple, his lips glistening as he looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks low and seductive as he cups both of your breasts, squeezing them affectionately.

“You just want all my attention because I’ve spoiled you too much,” he reveals. Not waiting for your response he brings his lips over your breast again, capturing your nipple in his warm mouth, sucking and licking it with such intensity that you become breathless.

The urgency of his suckling, the heat of his mouth, and the way he teases your other breast is too much for your body to handle. Your moans and gasps begin to fill the room as you endure so much pleasure you cave in and orgasm your walls throbbing around nothing pushed to the edge and beyond.

He pulls back to study your condition. You are panting with your pupils blown wide and look of pure sexual bliss on your face. He knows you are reeling in the high of your orgasm completely forgetting you are being punished, and he smiles seductively before returning to his torturous routine.

He leans in and closes his lips over your nipple again, this time holding you tightly in place as he tugs on it with his nipping teeth.

“Ow, Austin!” you exclaim angrily and glare down at him. He abruptly stops and slaps you hard across your breast. “Stop whining,” he reprimands, and you stifle your cry, looking at him in shock.

Locking eyes with you as a warning, he moves to your other nipple, his lips parting slightly as he takes the bud between his teeth. With deliberate precision, he nips and tugs on your nipple with a piercing bite inflicting just enough pressure to elicit a tantalizing mix of pleasure and pain to course through your core before he releases it

“You think your punishment is over don’t you?” he asks, as you feel the radiating sting of his bite. You don’t react to it, knowing he will slap it harder.

"Where’s my belt ?" He asks commandingly

"No, no please Austin ," you plead.

“Baby… don’t make me ask twice,” he says with a threatening tone. You immediately lean back, feeling a surge of adrenaline, as you pick up his belt from the floor. You hold it tightly in your grasp presenting it to him ready to obey.

“Stand up,” Austin commands, and you rise on your feet, feeling the soreness from the spankings you just endured flood through you all at once.

He stands up from his chair, towering over you. His height is accentuated by the way he squares his shoulders making him appear even more imposing as he looks down at you.

“When you misbehave like this, it makes my dick painfully hard. Do you enjoy making me so hard that it’s painful?” he questions, a mix of frustration and desire in his tone.

Your gaze naturally drifts down his commanding figure, settling on the piercing, erect bulge straining against his leather pants. Feeling the intensity of his gaze, your eyes return to meet his.

“No, Austin.” You reply softly.

“Good because you made me this hard now you’re going to take care of it,” he commands, his voice firm and demanding.

He grips your shoulders tightly and forces you down on your knees. He steps closer with his cock inches from your face as he looks down on you with intent.

“Take me out,” he commands, and you obey placing the belt down on the floor. You reach up and unbutton his leather pants lowering down his zipper, the sound sending a shiver of anticipation through you.

As you reach inside, you feel the warmth of his hard erection and gently wrap your fingers around his thick shaft pulling his cock out from the confines of his pants, revealing his throbbing length in all its pulsating glory.

The sight of his impressive cock wrapped in your hand fully arouses you, sending a surge of desire through your body as you prepare to please him.

He guides you with a firm hand on the back of your head and you feel his control as his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer to his erect cock.

“Take it deep,” he commands, his voice tense with desire. “Show me how much you want it.”

You look up to him as his large cock enters your mouth and fills you up stretching your lips around its girth. “That’s it, baby,” Austin groans, his voice husky with desire. “Take me all the way in.”

The sensation is overwhelming, the weight and heat of him pressing against your tongue with each glide in and out as you feel yourself succumbing to his rhythm. “That’s my good girl,” he praises, his words spurring you on.

Your tongue traces along his shaft as he moves, exploring every ridge and vein, and Austin groans in response as his hand grips into your hair harder “Don’t stop,” Austin urges, his voice thick with need.

The taste of him is intoxicating, and you feel the fullness of him as he thrusts deeper, filling your mouth completely on each movement. With every stroke, you feel yourself growing more aroused, the intensity of the moment building with each passing second.

“I’m so close baby….-keep going,” he says, his voice strained with arousal. He places both of his hands at the back of your head with his fingers tangling in your hair he begins bucking his hips thrusting into the back of your throat.

Each thrust becomes more deliberate, and you struggle to accommodate him, feeling the strain on your jaw stretching as the sensation pushes you to your limit. You finally gag as tears brim your eyes looking up at him through wet lashes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his thrusts.

“You take me so well, don’t stop,” he growls, his voice thick with desire. You try to relax your throat as your mouth works to bring him over the edge, but he’s too forceful, each movement becoming more demanding as you feel the strain on your jaw and throat with each intense penetration.

The tension is evident in the way you gasp for air between his movements. Your moans of discomfort come in short wet gurgles around his cock, unable to keep pace with his relentless rhythm.

You claw at his thighs and whimper around his thrusting cock. Despite your efforts, he doesn’t release his grip, his hold on you firm as he continues thrusting into your mouth, driving deeper into your throat.

“Just like that, keep going oh fuck,” he urges, his grip tightening. “Oh fuck…oh fuck! I’m gonna cum,” he rasps.

As he reaches the peak you hear his primal cries of release echoing in the air as he ejaculates, filling your mouth with his warm cum. On his final thrust you swallow every drop savoring the taste of him.

Spent and satisfied he makes small sounds of pleasure as he pants, slowly withdrawing his cock from your wet mouth.

He looks down at you while you kneel before him, a mix of exhaustion and contentment washing over his face. You feel utterly drained your eyes wet and your body trembling from the intensity of the encounter.

His gaze shifts to the belt lying beside you and he nods towards the leather strap wordlessly instructing you to pick it up.

“You were a good girl,” he praises, his voice low and husky. “But we’re not finished yet.

With a sense of apprehension, you reach for the belt and take it in your hands knowing that it signifies the next phase of your punishment

“Stand up,” he commands, offering his hand to guide you to your feet. You feel a mix of anticipation and apprehension as you grasp his hand and rise from the floor.

“We’re going to the bedroom,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He tucks his cock away into his leather pants and takes your hand firmly in his, while you clutch the belt in the other, its weight a constant reminder of what’s to come.

He leads you up the stairs as you try to think of a way to avoid your fate. The hallway seems longer than usual and every step amplifies your anxiety. When you finally reach the end of the hall, he opens the door and pulls you into the master bedroom. As he closes the door behind you, the quiet click of the latch sends a shiver down your spine.His eyes are dark with intent he approaches.

“You know what’s coming next, don’t you?” he asks, his voice low and almost dangerous.

“Hand me the belt,” he demands and your hands tremble as you hold out the belt, your eyes pleading for any hint of leniency. The feeling inside of you a mix of fear and anticipation.

He takes the belt from you without a word, his gaze unwavering and stern. You feel a wave of anxiety wash over you, the room around you blurring slightly as your focus sharpens on him and the belt.

“Go on, get on your hands and knees,” he says, pointing to the bed with the belt. His voice is firm, leaving no room for hesitation.

You climb onto the bed, the soft sheets a stark contrast to the hard reality of the situation. Your heart pounds in your chest as you assume the position, hands and knees resting centered on the mattress.

The anticipation is almost unbearable as you wait for his next move knowing that whatever comes next it will be intense and unforgettable.

���Please, Austin, I’m sorry,” you beg as a finale cry hoping for an any sort of leniency.

“Do you understand why you’re being punished?” he asks, his voice a mix of frustration and authority as he collects the belt running it through his hand.

“Yes Austin,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“And you know it’s for your own good, don’t you?” he continues, his tone softening slightly as he slaps the belt in his palm.

Yes,” you reply struggling to contain your anxiety hearing the leather slap against his hand as he tests it.

“Good,” he says and you hear the faint sound of his zipper as he begins to strip naked. You peek over your shoulder, wondering why he hasn’t spanked you yet.

He climbs up behind you, his knees sinking into the bed, and you feel his hand roughly tugging your skirt up, making sure your red ass is fully exposed.

He raises his arm to bring down his thick belt across your exposed ass, but then he hesitates. Seeing your glistening pussy, he falters, deciding the spanking can wait. His cock is aching to be inside of you again.

“Look at you, dripping for me,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire.

“You think you can tease me like this and not face the consequences?” he rasps, pressing his hard cock against your entrance.

You feel a sense of relief wash over you when you hear the belt buckle hit the bed.“I-I’m sorry,” you say, fully aroused, feeling the heat of his tip pressing and slipping against your entrance

“Sorry isn’t enough,” he whispers, gripping your hips, enjoying the feel of your wetness covering his cock. “You’re going to take every inch of me first. Then we’ll see if you’re still sorry,” he says.

With that, he thrusts into you,and you moan as he fills you completely. His grip tightens as he sets a relentless pace, each movement sending waves of pleasure and pain through your body. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, mingled with your gasps and his guttural groans.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growls, his voice strained with pleasure. “You’re so tight, so perfect.”

Despite the initial shock, you quickly find yourself gasping in pleasure feeling the intensity of his desire. Your body starts responding eagerly to his every thrust. “Austin, oh God, don’t stop,” you manage to say between breaths.

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “I won’t stop until you’re begging for more,” he murmurs, his pace quickening, the sound of his hips slamming against you growing louder.

“Austin you feel so good,” you cry out your voice filled with lust.

His breathing becomes ragged as you match his rhythm, pushing back against him, desperate to satisfy him. The tension in the room mounts, every touch, every sound amplifying the connection between you.

With each powerful thrust, he collides his hips into yours, the intensity driving you over the edge. “Austin, I’m going to cum,” you say, your voice filled with ecstasy.

He groans in response, his own pleasure evident in the primal sounds escaping his lips. “Don’t cum yet …-you need to…-learn your lesson ” he urges, his voice husky with desire.

He pulls you up to him, his hand wrapping around your neck with just enough pressure to make you gasp. Your breath catches in your throat as waves of pleasure wash over you.

“You ever going to disrespect me in front of my friends again?” he demands, his voice low and intense.

“No, Austin,” you promise your voice trembling with arousal. His grip tightens slightly, sending a shiver down your spine as he thrusts harder.

"What about lying to me?” he asks with authority.

"I won’t lie to you! Austin I promise!” you cry out obeying his every word as his hips clap against you.

"Good girl.” He says bringing his other hand down spreading your pussy lips wide and rubbing around your clit.

"MMMM Yes !" You cry out feeling like it’s a reward from his punishment.

"Do you like this, baby?" he asks, rubbing a little harder.

"Yes Austin! Please more!" you beg and he slows his thrusts focusing his attention on your aching clit.

“Good,” he growls, his lips brushing against your ear. “I like when you’re a good girl for me you’re going to take every bit of pleasure I give you.” He says as his fingers continue to work your clit, each movement sending sparks of ecstasy through your body.

You moan loudly, the sound reverberating his hand around your throat. He leans in, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “I want to feel you cum for me now.”

You are unable to form words, completely lost in the sensations he’s creating as he sets a relentless pace slamming his cock deep within your throbbing walls. His touch becomes more insistent, his fingers moving faster on your clit as he brings you closer to the edge. The rhythmic clapping of his hips against yours fills the room as your breaths come in short, desperate gasps, mingling with his groans of satisfaction.

“Oh fuck Austin” you moan out feeling dizzy from so much pleasure coursing your entire body at once.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice filled with desire. “Let go for me. Show me how much you need this.”

He chokes you, and it cuts off your moans as he pounds into you. With a final fluttering of your walls on his cock, your body trembles as you reach the peak of your pleasure and you orgasm. Austin’s grip on your throat loosens and he watches you with a satisfied smile as you fall apart.

“That’s it, baby. Let it all go,” he whispers, his voice husky with satisfaction feeling your walls flutter on him with each thrust.

He holds you in his arms, pulling you close as your body endures wave after wave of intense pleasure until you go limp against him trembling and moaning.

“You came so well or me,” he whispers in your ear.

You pulse around his cock as he nears his climax and his movements becoming erratic, his sounds more primal. “I can’t hold back…” he gasps feeling the surge of your arousal.

With a final, shuddering thrust, he reaches his peak, his cries of release filling the room as he orgasms, his cock pulsing rope after rope of cum into you as he holds you steady breathing heavily.

As you both catch your breaths the intensity of the moment begins to fade and he withdraws from you slowly, his movements gentle yet deliberate.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice husky with satisfaction as he pulls you down on the bed with him and wraps his arms around you. “You were amazing,” he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

After a moment he gently strokes your hair, his eyes softened with satisfaction. “You really do satisfy me,” he admits, brushing his hand along your jaw. “Even when you rebel like this and I have to punish you.” He grins his pleasure evident that he’s regained control.

He kisses you deeply as his earlier anger melts away. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I love you too Austin” you confess feeling complete.

He holds your jaw firm locking eyes with you “But don’t think I won’t punish you if you misbehave again.” He finalizes.

You nod in agreement as his words linger in the air, both a promise and a warning as he pulls you into a tender embrace.

Deep down, you revel in testing the limits of his control, feeling his passion, his desire, and his unwavering commitment to you. In those moments, you feel exhilarated beyond compare.

It’s a thrilling exchange of his controlling power and your submission of rebelliousness that reinforces the dynamics of your relationship. His punishments make you feel alive and deeply connected to him in a way that nothing else can.

⛓️‍💥 End ⛓️‍💥

🏷️ Always Tag Me List 💌

@burnthheparaphilia @abswifey @faegoddessog @lindszeppelin @purejasmine @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @magicovento @thegabbyh @fallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @unicoreads @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @shegatsby @denised916 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @meetmeatyourworst @rougegenshin @avidreader73 @jkdaddy01 @mamawiggers1980 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha

[sugar-omi]

Oh gosh, now yan!Cove was mentioned on this blob, might I swoop in to further yan olba agenda by mentioning Baxter? (Bae-xter, anyone? Ahah) Like, *sure*, he leaves. But in step 4 his apartment is decorated basically to copy Sunset Bird rental home--who does that? He was there 3 months tops! He's also eaten away by guilt for 5 years even if you're just friends in the playthrough-- and if you date? He can fall in enduring *LOVE* in those 3 months!! That's hella Intense.

Perhaps yan!Baxter is on the more self-aware side, removing himself from u initially not just due to all his issues, but also an effort at protecting you. Poor sweet little martyr. Although one could say he's protecting himself. Most futile of him. There's no lover after or before you to rival your effect on him--no, there's no such *person*. Baxter's happiness is defined by your name. You fulfill him. His life it nothing but absence carved in your shape.

Could he survive being haunted by your memory forever? Who's to say. But he's certainly fated to loose himself fast once you re-appear in the flesh.

"his life is nothing but absence carved in your shape." A POET!!!! apologies for the late response but ive been reeling over this for DAYS. THIS IS SUCH A LINE......

but god... self aware yandere baxter who knows his obsession is unhealthy. he fills up his lonely life with shiny things, trips, and lovers to temporarily fill the hole and yet when he meets you. oh god.. he's hooked.

you're so beautiful, a special charm that comes with a small town local with a brilliant smile and caring nature.

he knows his love is like blood on white carpet. but even though he knows that he goes and falls for you anyway... you may not even return his feelings, you may even love someone else. but god if he doesn't center his life around you.

he remembers what your room looks like, the stuffed animals you had in the corner and the recovering fern on your windowsill, tucked in the corner carefully so that cove could come through your window...

his heart clenched painfully when you mention him.

he wants you to look at him and only him. he wants you to call his name in your sweet, attractive voice and look at him with those piercing eyes.

baxter looks at you and he sees heaven, he sees his future and his life and his end in your eyes and he is done for.

he wishes you would beg him to stay, to pull open his chest and see all the nasty stuff inside of him, filth and worms and darkness crawling around and reaching out from the cruelest part of his soul and you still ask him to stay.

you ask him to pull your body into his until your skin is flushed and your hearts beat at the same time and pace, that your breathing is shared and your world is blank when the other is outside of it.

he wants you to beg him, tell him, urge him to taint you.

put it in the most romantic words that only the sick but brilliant edgar allen poe could write, pull his darkness from his chest and cradle it..

but he knows that his obsession is too intense. it's too much.

because now, even though he hasn't heard a word from you in years-- a consequence of his actions, but if you knew.. if you knew why you'd talk to him still right? you wouldn't be mad because you know he did it for you.. right?

but furniture similar to the townhouse covers every inch of his home and your little gifts sit near his bed for him to gaze upon when he goes to sleep.

he has any and all little mementos of you.

he needs to fill up the empty space you've left in him... he knows he pushed you away, but he can still crave you, right? you don't mind that he has your picture on his shelf and that he kisses it goodnight when he's a little too drunk and indulges himself in dreams of you?

when you finally meet again though... god, everything breaks.

his sham of being put together and fine falls apart faster than wet tissue. he has been at the brink of snapping since he left you, his yearning increasing day by day, minute by minute in fact.

and even though you're looking at him with a mix of pure anger and sadness, he doesn't care, he loves it. he loves you.

your angry tone.. god he's never heard anything so beautiful in his life, and when you spit venom at him about breaking your heart and betraying your trust.. he knows he should feel bad, and he does, but he wants to kiss your feet and beg you for forgiveness and be allowed to serve you.

he wants to give you everything, he doesn't want to leave you ever again and he promises that he'll be good, he'll do better and he'll never hurt you and he will worship every step you take for the rest of your life if you just let him by your side.

even if you stay angry at him, he'll love that too. he'll take anything you have to give if you just give it to him and him alone.

and even though he promises to love you and take care of you (his normal way of saying he's going to worship you)... it's less like you are his god and he is your loyal servant, your beloved and treasured follower and more like you are his prisoner.

he treasures you hard, and deeply. he tries to hide the intensity of his feelings, he tries to be calm.. he knows that his jealousy and possession- his obsession. is wrong. it's sick and cruel and he is sick but he is also in love and what is more important than loving you?

you can start to hate him, you can start to find his habits and "treasures" creepy and/or concerning, you can try to talk to him and eventually snap and yell at him to let you go. to leave you alone. to stop being such a fucking werido! to stop being a stalker!

but he doesn't care, and he only reels when you slap him, caging you in his arms and inhaling your scent... he loves you so much.. everything you do, everything you are, everything about you he loves.

he loves his times with you, always recreating the memories, making new ones and even though he loves you like a believer giving an offering, he loves you like a cat loves a mouse.

you are his for his greedy heart to feast on, you are his beloved who loves him so kindly and gently, so wholly...

he can't let your time together go. he can't let you go.

not again... he'll never let go again. so stop asking him to let go, even an inch is too much. he has to give you his all, his everything... his heart, body, and soul is yours and he intends to give you every breath his takes if you just let him.

[freyito]

I'm in that 'damn I'm too feminine guess I'll die' phase right now, pretty sure it happens monthly, so, I was wondering if I could ask for Liu Kang with a ftm reader who's normally happy just crashing down one day, specifically because they think they're too feminine for people to perceive them as a guy?

Thank you for writing such amazing stuff btw!! :D

anon, you saved me. you SAVED ME. ive been in such a mood and ive been wanting to write something comforting!!! but i havent been able to think of a prompt and i didnt really have the energy for anything in my inbox. and then you BLESSED me with this absolute banger of a request oh em gee.

and don't worry, you're not alone either anon, im also lowkey goin thru it. twinsies!!!! letting you know, from a very feminine (androgynous, but apparently i seem fem aligned) trans man, its okay to feel this. there really is no definition to masculinity and you are a man regardless of what people say!

added some bonus characters for myyyy self indulgence if you don't mind

cw: male reader, ftm, just fluff, implied romantic relationships w/ all, proofread

ʟɪᴜ ᴋᴀɴɢ (ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴏɴᴜꜱᴇꜱ) + ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ꜰᴛᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

-Liu Kang...

is almost disheartened at the sudden change of behavior. Just the other day you had been so vibrant, bringing color, a certain tone to the world. Something even he didn't think was possible. When he had met you, he was smitten. With your positivity, your optimism, and above all else, you.

To find you, quiet, sullen, hiding from him, it was heartbreaking. The absence of your voice and your light was something that very clearly rubbed off on him.

Finding out you've broken because you do not feel yourself, because you cannot look in the mirror without seeing the man you aren't, it fills him with sorrow. Because, he sees you as a man, regardless. He always will, and it will never change.

To be honest, he's quite unsure how to comfort you. He's by your side, reassuring you that you are masculine, that he and many, many others see you as a man. And he wants to make sure you see that. The best he can be is sympathetic, it hurts that he can't necessarily understand you on a deeper level.

However, that does not change how he sees you. Nothing defines masculinity, nor what makes a man in his eyes. Even as a god, he believes there really is no definition to anything, aside from what you make it.

He lets you know exactly that. There is nothing in the world that could change his mind, no insecurity- no matter how big- you find will ever change his view of you.

-Kuai Liang...

originally thinks you are playing a game with him. So suddenly, you disappear. He looks for his sunshine around every corner, every closet, any possible hiding place he can think of. You are the light of his life, your shining brilliance cannot be matched.

So when he finds you sulking in your room, hiding, back turned from him and the world, suddenly concern eclipses his light. The pit in his stomach forms, ever expanding with worry.

Hiding because you do not see yourself as... yourself. You can almost hear his heart shatter. You are afraid other people see this, too. That you are not a man in anyone's eyes.

At first, he believes someone had put this through your head. Someone had told you this, had made you feel this way. And the fire burned within him, something telling him to find whoever had said this to you. Yet, when he finds out it is simply you perceiving everyone else's looks towards you like this, his mind slows down.

Kuai insists you are wrong. His usually calm temper replaced by him adamantly denying that you are seen as anything else. You are a man, regardless. He has never seen you as anything else but one.

Knowing you put yourself down this this claws at him, he partially feels guilty. But he puts in the effort to make you feel exactly like who you are, to bring your radiant light back into his life again.

-Johnny Cage...

can't stand loosing your positivity, your light is an ever-burning warmth that keeps him rather grounded, despite his wit and charm.

He's plunged into sudden darkness when he wakes up to you with your back turned to him, pushed as far away as possible at the edge of the bed. In an instant, it feels like his whole world is ripped away from him.

But, he's determined to make sure it isn't, and he begins with the questioning almost immediately. This was the quickest you've ever seen him wake up. And to find the reason you've pushed yourself away from him is because you don't see yourself how he sees you, and that you are ashamed- no, no. He can't have that.

Johnny cuts you off immediately, showering you and pampering you with affirmations. He does not allow you any room to let your mind twist your identity. He makes it known that you are a man, he sees you as a man, everyone sees you as a man.

He's serious, too. All traces of the signature Cage tone are wiped out, his voice soft, yet heavy. He doesn't let you, not even for a second, get back into your dysphoric mind-space. He tries, real hard, anyways.

Johnny only lets up when he finally sees even a potential smile on your face. And once he's so sure he's affirmed your gender,- and you've affirmed yourself- he's back to his over-the-top persona, bathed in wit and perhaps even a little bit of pride.

© freyito, 2023 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[ganondorf--apologist]

I was running through Godhome again and something that I've been wanting to ramble about for a while is the differences in the lead up to the Dream No More ending vs the Godhome endings.

Throughout the Dream No More run, Ghost's journey is almost defined by having allies, by not being alone. Quirrel is there to help with Uumuu, Cloth is (sometimes) there to help with Traitor Lord, and Hornet is there to save Ghost from the collapsing Cast Off Shell and later to restrain THK for them to dreamnail. This builds up to the events of the final fight with Radiance, where as Ghost progresses towards the end their siblings start appearing in the background and the music swells as they ascend to the top to land one last hit on Radi before THK themself appears to help Ghost out one last time. Ghost's victory secured because of all of the help they've received, because they were not alone.

The Godhome endings seemingly exist in complete contrast to this. The absence of allies is prevalent throughout Ghost's Godhome run. Fights where Ghost once had allies are now done without even the slightest inkling of that same external help in sight—made even more prevalent when you remember that Oro was able to call in Mato halfway through the fight and all three sisters of battle were allowed to step in to try and curb stomp Ghost. Everyone else gets to call in allies, Ghost does not. Ghost has to do all of these fights alone, twice. Once for the first four pantheons and then again all at once in P5. While running through P5, Ghost is stopped by intermittent chats with Godseeker about all of the other gods in the game, but none of the gods are ever discussed together. Each one is placed on a pedestal, all alone. The entire journey through Godhome even started by finding Godseeker in the Junk Pit by herself, and while going through each of the pantheons, despite being surrounded by other godseekers, each time Godseeker talks to Ghost she does so entirely alone. And after all that, finally, Ghost makes it to Absolute Radiance, and for the first two parts of the fight it's identical to Dream No More Radiance. However, once that ending part rolls around, it changes. Ghost's siblings are no longer in the background, it's just Ghost now, and as they ascend the music gets quieter and quieter until it's entirely gone, replaced by the loud ringing of Godhome. They get to the top and it's no longer just one last hit, no, Hollow isn't there to help them anymore, no one is. They have to keep hitting Radiance on their own until the fight is finally over and Ghost can finally become The Lord of Shades.

At that point Ghost has done it, they've ascended, become powerful—more powerful than anyone.

They've won...

... but they're all alone.

[thomas-jefferson-miku-binder]

was talking to my partner about Arcane Janna and how differently it contrasts with her other identities in both Riot games and why that is. LoL Janna doesn't look nor feel like the character her biography wants her to be. Ok, she's a Zaun saint, a wind spirit, it makes sense she would be worshipped by people who live in place with toxic gases, but that isn't really taken further in her design, as she looks like a generic MOBA nymph. However, as flawed as her deisgn may be, the main idea still gets across through her voice lines and gameplay kit, that she is benevolant and cares about the people that worship her.

then Legends of Runeterra releases Janna and it's one of the best redesigns they've done, in my opinion. yes, she is still Janna, the kind wind goddess we've always known, but we get to know a little bit more about how that came to be. they fix her origin point in the Shuriman pantheon, and expand on how she herself was victim of cansorship as were her followers in ancient Shurima, and how Jan'ahrem eventually found new purpose in Zaun. it expands on themes of godhood fantastically and how Janna fix herself to places as long as she in needed

And even if the LoL and LoR conceps differ, i think the main constant is how present she is. yes, she is a god, but a god who lives among her people, a god who doesn't shy away from meeting those who pray for her

and then we get to Arcane Act I, and the most striking characteristic about Janna, the thing that defines her, is her absence. she is still decipted as a savior, as a helper, as benevolent, but it's not Janna we see being reffered to that way, but a mural where her face used to be. Arcane Janna feels like a primal power, like something to be respcted just as much as admired. and i really like this new way to engage with her story

[allastoredeer]

SALTY RANT

When did we collectively decide that Alastor is so obsessed with control?

Like, when did that happen? And what proof is there to it?

Do I believe that Alastor likes having control over himself and certain situations. Sure. Do I think he obsessively needs to be in control of everything all the times?

NO.

Seriously, can someone point out the scenes to me where Alastor exhibited an obsession with being in control? I've watched the show several times at this point, and when I try to pin-point any time that showed him wanting to be in complete control I come up with...nothing. Nada.

Throughout most of the series he wasn't even that involved with the rest of the Hazbin crew. He was there, in the hotel, but he was never trying to run things. He was aloof, he observed, he manipulated things to better serve him personally (like getting Vaggie to agree never to ask him to use television technology again), he sat in when Charlie did her exersizes, he did things they asked him to be, at no point did he show an intense obsession with being in control over OTHER PEOPLE.

I think the only time he has ever shown anything like that was with Husk in the "Dad Beat Dad" episode, but that wasn't even so much wanting to control Husk than intimidate and scare him for even suggesting that he's on "a leash."

I've never seen him want to control Charlie, even when he was manipulating a deal out of her. He's never tried to control Niffty, Angel, Pentious, Lucifer, literally none of the characters.

Any obsession he has for self control I think goes to himself, and even then, he's not perfect at keeping control of himself either. He rose to the challenge so quickly when Vox started to shit talk him, he was obviously annoyed when Carmilla dismissed his 7 year absence, and Lucifer got him riled up enough to say "fuck you" within minutes of meeting him.

Someone PLEASE tell me where in the show Alastor is actually shown to display characteristics of being obsessed with control?

Was it this line to Charlie: "A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing, and ensures your the one who's always in control?"

Was it that? Was it this line that created the monster that is Alastor maintaining an obsessive level of control over other people?????? OH my god, I'm actually starting to feel insane.

I'm so tired of Alastor being boiled down to this control-obsessed, prim & proper, stick in the mud. There can be so much more to his character, please stop making this his defining character trait I swear to god i'm going to start chewing through my computer

Idk I'm feeling too many things tonight. i forgot to take my meds so my patience is so much thinner than it normally would be. Might delete later, I just needed to get it out of my system.

[miyamiwu]

4S Blue Lock Ego Classification v2

@mathematical-apprentice left some insightful suggestions on v1, and I’ve been pondering over them to see how I can improve the classification system. Although I think their idea for a major class and sub class is good, I decided to keep all the classes on the same level for the sake of simplicity. @mathematical-apprentice has also pointed out that the Striver and Supporter classes are too broad, and I think this was just because I didn’t define them well. What v2 will include, then, is better definitions on the different categories to make them more specific, limiting their scope. Additionally, I will be changing the name of Striver to Savant because I think it better captures the idea I have for that class. More examples for each class will also be included.

Moreover, I would just like to clarify that this system is meant to classify character egos based on what a character desires and what would bring them fulfillment (i.e. what would boost their ego). It does not refer to how a character plays.

Lastly, all characters strive to improve in one way or another, but how they measure their improvement varies. This is also partly why I decided to rename the Striver class because it sounded like they’re the only class who cares about self-improvement when that isn’t the case at all.

Strategist

A Strategist is fueled by the desire for success through careful planning and problem-solving. They find fulfillment in being in control of the situation and having others revolve around their vision. They may have metavision, but it is not a precursor to be assigned to this class. (Metavision is a tool that any character of any class can use; it is simply a means to an end.)

Characters with this ego: Isagi, Hiori, and Snuffy

(Too lazy to find a panel for Snuffy, but I don’t think I need to prove this. You get it.)

Isagi is the very obvious example of this for reasons I don’t have to explain.

Then as mentioned in v1, Hiori is so close to falling under the Supporter class because of how he desires to “produce the world’s best striker.” However, I opted to put him under the Strategist class because he is not bound to any one striker, nor is he supporting anyone for the mere sake of seeing them succeed. And in a way, Hiori is a lot like his parents.

Savant

A Savant is fueled by the desire to win through their weapon (or personal style, in the absence of a clearly-defined weapon), as they greatly think of it as a part of their identity and not just a tool that can help them win. They focus a lot on sharpening their weapon and may follow a training regimen that targets its enhancement.

Characters with this ego: Bachira, Chigiri, Yukimiya, Kaiser, Lavinho, and Chris

(Once again too lazy to find relevant panels for the coaches…)

Bachira’s and Chigiri’s developments in the NEL arc centered on them improving their weapons and making a name for themselves based on it (i.e. Ginga x Monster or just Monster, and Red 44)

Yukimiya’s Sword Screw (alt. tl, “Sword Pierce”) shot is a direct improvement of his previously blocked shot, but it didn’t come out of nowhere. He took inspiration from Chris’ shot, understood it, then made it his own. This shot is also an assertion of what he believes in, the “sword” piercing through his fate (“I won’t hand my fate or my ego over to god!” –c202)

In v1, Kaiser was tentatively put under the Strategist class, as it wasn’t clear yet in the manga what his ego type should be. But after c266, it is now apparent that Kaiser is a Savant. His magnus shot was something he thought of and carefully crafted, and him executing it was an assertion of his identity, a callback to the young!Michael Kaiser. (Heck, his own weapon is even called Kaiser Impact.)

Saboteur

A Saboteur is driven by the desire to destroy and disrupt, as it is a way for them to mark their presence in the world. They find fulfillment in undermining their enemies’ plans and obliterating their efforts.

Characters with this ego: Aiku, Niko, Lorenzo, Sae, Rin, and Barou

Niko, Sae, and Rin all have metavision, so it can be easy to confuse them as Strategists. But as aforementioned metavision is just a tool, and these three have decided to use it as a means for destruction.

To better understand the difference between Strategist and Saboteur, just look at the Isagi-Yukimiya winning goal in the match against Manshine City. This play shows how Isagi is a strategist through and through, as he found pleasure in defeating Kaiser not through direct destruction but by outwitting him.

You may also wonder why I put Rin under Saboteur and not Strategist. This is because Saboteur is his true ego. Right now, he’s acting like a Strategist, still obsessed with planning and calculating, but that’s not where his true strength lies. Sae knows this, so he keeps provoking Rin in order to bring out his Saboteur ego. And to be a Saboteur, you must have someone you want to destroy. In the beginning, Sae used himself as a target for Rin, but after Rin defeated him in a 1v1 during the U20 match, he then shifts the target to Isagi so Rin can still have the drive to destroy.

Now, for Barou, I previously put him under the Striver/Savant class, but after @mathematical-apprentice pointed out that they should be a Saboteur instead, I realized that they were right. Barou’s new weapon is even called predator eye, and he’s obsessed with hunting/killing.

Supporter

The class that nobody should hate because Supporters have done nothing wrong ever.

A Supporter is fueled by the desire to see their partner succeed. They find fulfillment in providing valuable assistance and thrive on the positive impact they have on their partner. Their development thus revolve around how they can become more useful to their partner.

Characters with this ego: Ness, Nanase, and Kurona

With ego often interpreted to be equivalent to selfishness, it can be easy to dismiss Supporters as having no backbones or in need of a development arc to evolve into a typical bluelocker who’s strong and independent. But I believe that there’s also strength and beauty in being content with oneself and seeking instead to serve others. Not everybody has to want to be a star.

Besides, without Supporters, a lot of strikers won’t be able to do much. (Especially you, Isagi!)

Kunigami gets me. (And idk what class Kunigami should belong to, but for sure he’s no Supporter.)

Characters I’m not sure how to classify...

Nagi - Although Nagi is in football because of his shared dream with Reo, I don’t think he’s actually a Supporter. I think he should either be a Savant or a Saboteur.

Reo - Most likely a Supporter, with how obsessed he is in seeing Nagi succeed. But I’m gonna have to see how the MC vs Barcha match plays out to decide for sure. He may also be a Strategist.

Kiyora - He needs more screentime coz I honestly can’t tell. But I think he’s either a Supporter or a Saboteur

Kunigami - Savant/Supporter before his emo era. I don’t know what’s up with him right now, but I’m leaning into Kunigami being a Saboteur post-development (if he ever gets one coz he’s been cooking for too long now…)

Hmm… I should make a uquiz of this sometime...

But for now, take this and go!

[yourlocaltreesimp]

All Chained Up

All chained up masterlist

last part ੈ✩‧₊˚ next part

Chapter 5: Stunted in sentience

The foolish nature of humanity lies within itself. Only once one has gained sentience can they fully gauge the factor at which they are alive. With such developments is the ability to feel beyond what has been coded into you. A creator's hand can mould a picture out of pigment and canvas— can mould you a form from nothing more than the earth, but it is sentience which gives the form meaning. It is sentience that attaches value to nothingness, that makes you mourn when it’s ripped away. It is sentience that betrays primiality. It is sentience —the very thing we have come to define ourselves with— that breaks you.

Days passed by with the similar mundane of your original life. You consider that it is fate echoing to you, the cage begging for something to trap. The Veteran still stands firm that everything is fine and like the world is normal. Like you’re not even there. The group has gotten more lax the longer you linger— ceasing the pass of distrustful stares in exchange for an uneasy silence. But still, you find your footing. You learned when to push yourself forward and pull back. You leaned when and who to bargain with and when you were better set focusing on that pull towards stagnation. With your progress you’d only been given easy tasks, safe tasks, with which you were usually monitored. You could find and forage food for dinner with Hyrule and Wild, gather kindling or logs for a fire (not that you were allowed to split them, that was down to Warriors or Twilight) or your personal favourite task of keeping the sailor entertained. While the world you hailed from was by no means intriguing to you, it proved to be incredibly so to the others. You’d forgotten how foreign your surroundings were to you also meant how foreign you were to them. It was there in that odd sense off middle ground, no man’s land… or perhaps every man’s land, you found a bit of adoration within the wonder-filled eyes of the young hero as you spun your tall tales. And with it came some small sense of acceptance into the group, as they find themselves getting caught tangled while you strung together story after story. You saw why it united them after they all began to open up, slowly at first. Wind exchanged stories of Outset, his home and his family. With every anecdote from your life was one from him. Surprisingly to you, it was Rulie who came next. He picked his words haphazardly as he spoke of his own home in a daze. His eyes were glassy and he spoke with a half smile, regret biting at his words. Clearly in your mind’s eye could you see his life of running through fields and meadows, living his life before fate came crashing in on him. Many of the others then followed suit, the Champion and his fight to tame the divine beasts, the Captain and his unfortunate situation pertaining to his love life, the Smith and why you presume he’s so short and Sky, who told a tale of a land among the skies and Hylia herself. All who you’ve heard from speak of her. Her gifts— her blessings. Her existence. Her existence in such surety, a word you’ve never known to associate the divine with. Through what you can only trust is true, you learn of gods and their battles. Their war zone among the mortals, fought by iterations of the same. Two gods and one mortal man set to stand between them… In the end, while you get no story out of Time, Twilight or Legend, you’re willing to lay that to rest. For now the knowledge you hold —while carefully curated and heavily gilt— is enough to fill mundane day after day of walking and chore.

After gathering food for dinner and split logs for a fire, you finally let yourself settle. You let yourself sink into your joints and let the world go quiet once more. There was still idle chatter and the quiet call of nature through the shaking of leaves and cawing of birds, but you found yourself within absence. No thoughts your brain sought to process, no motion you sought to make. Instead, you let yourself simply exist for one given moment. A capture in time before-

“Oh c’mon you could at least eat before you nod off.” Wind snickered, plopping himself right down next to you. “You’re Worse than Sky”

“Hey!” He sat up from the stump he was leaning on as he ‘rested his eyes’

“What, he’s not wrong,” Legend added before he could forget to hold his tongue. He’s been getting worse at ignoring you, occasionally passing snide comments in jest before realising who he was sharing his company with. He dropped the blades of grass he was braiding, flinching back from the cold earth as if it burned him.

Dinner would’ve been painfully quiet if it weren’t for Wind's rambles about some massive lava crab he fought during his journey. He might not have been able to pick up tone in nearly any capacity, but who were you to rain on his parade? When was the last time he had adults or mentors he looked up to take him seriously? You’re not sure the longer you think. And think is exactly what you do, all the way until the sun had led the sky and night was beset across the land. The small hero had already curled up with his head resting on your thigh by the time you snapped out of your thoughts. He’d seemed to be well out, not responding as you moved him so you too could lay down. The fire had started to dwindle without it being fed, and yet its characteristic warm glow was still cast upon the camp. It was then you noticed it. The moon. Crimson blood cast over the surface of the moon, eerily reminiscent of the same night you arrived. You lay awake for a long while after, never casting your eyes upon the carmine glow as much as you can help it to. You repeat a mantra of stories within your mind to push its influence out. You hear small voices begging for your attention clawing at your mind and no longer do you have the energy within you to shove them out. Your mind is not your own, cradled by tiny hands that sift through you. The coddle and coo as you’re split at the seams of your mind.

The nothingness fills you.

The sentience swells and crashes like an uneasy tide.

It draws back.

You are whole.

[efadefoks]

I decided to put everyone into one post and to talk about some assosications I have with the characters and their cards

The Fool (Folly, mania, extravagance, intoxication, delirium, frenzy, bewrayment. [If the card is] Reversed: Negligence, absence, distribution, carelessness, apathy, nullity, vanity.) Of course it is Han Juwon in the begining if the story. "In many esoteric systems of tarot card interpretation, the Fool is interpreted as the protagonist of a story, and the Major Arcana are the path the Fool takes through the great mysteries of life." He is a Fool afterall: careless in his investigation, doesn't think about the people around him. He thinks he is the smartest guy in the room and the bestest boy in the area.

The Lovers. Here I decided to interpret it in the most literal way. But the card itself provides quite a nice explanation too. "6. THE LOVERS.—Attraction, love, beauty, trials overcome. Reversed: Failure, foolish designs. Another account speaks of marriage frustrated and contrarieties of all kinds." I really love the ending. The whole reunion thing is straight out of the romance story. That's why I chose this image to represent this card. The moment of piece at last.

The Hermit. When I first thought about this collage idea I was absolutly sure who should represent this card. "9. THE HERMIT. Prudence, circumspection; also and especially treason, dissimulation, roguery, corruption. Reversed: Concealment, disguise, policy fear, unreasoned caution."

The High Priestess. Oh Jihwa my beloved. There were several posts about her recently. She is a wonderful character. "Secrets, mystery, the future as yet unrevealed; the woman who interests the Querent, if male; the Querent herself, if female; silence, tenacity; mystery, wisdom, science. Reversed: Passion, moral or physical ardor, conceit, surface knowledge." Tell me this is not about her, I'll wait.

The Sun. The Moon. The Star. I thought it would be really symbolic to choose three young (and dead) characters to represent this cards. (of course, LDS is alive and old now but I think we can considr his younger self to be buried somewhere really deep in his mind. He wasn't the same person he'd been before his sister disappearance). Another thoought that I had in mind while making these three pieces was that scene from the first episode. The dialogue with Mother and her friend. "You are so lucky to have your daughter. Such a pity the God decided to balance it with your son." How almost everyone thought that Lee Yuyeon was a blessing and her brother - just a delinquent.

19.THE SUN.—Material happiness, fortunate marriage, contentment. Reversed: The same in a lesser sense.

18.THE MOON--Hidden enemies, danger, calumny, darkness, terror, deception, occult forces, error. Reversed: Instability, inconstancy, silence, lesser degrees of deception and error.

17.THE STAR.--Hope and bright prospects, Reversed: Loss, theft, privation, abandonment; another reading says: arrogance, haughtiness, impotence.

Kang Minjeong is a little star flickered out too soon.

The Magician. "Tarot experts have defined the Magician in association with the Fool". "While the upright Magician represents potential and tapping into one's talents, the reversed Magician's potential and talents are unfocused and unmanifested."

The Strength. One of my favourite cards and my favourite brave girl. I need to come clean I am not a fan of a lor of women portrayals in asian culture. But Yoo Jaeyi just stole my heart. She is kind, she is angry, she is loving, she is grieving. She is real. She is her own person. I love this image of her. "8. FORTITUDE.—Power, energy, action, courage, magnanimity; also complete success and honours. Reversed: Despotism, abuse of power, weakness, discord, sometimes even disgrace."

The Devil. Do I even need to explain myself? Well probably yes. Another candidate for this card was you guessed it - Han Kihwan. But after some thinking I finally decided on this one. "15. THE DEVIL.—Ravage, violence, vehemence, extraordinary efforts, force, fatality; that which is predestined but is not for this reason evil. Reversed: Evil fatality, weakness, pettiness, blindness." While Juwon's father is the evil person and the real villain of the story I do consider Kang Jinmuk the Devil.

[alwaysonthemend]

A Lazy Night | JTK

Author’s Note: Request from bestie @iheartjakekiszka for a fluffy Jake fic. I made myself Very Sad with this one because soft Jakey makes me want to sob bc I can’t have him. Alas… Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Unbeta’d so apologies for any mistakes. Now please excuse me while I go drink wine and think soft Jake thoughts. 

Summary: Jake and the band have been working non stop on their new album. But, with a long weekend on the horizon, you decide to give Jake a night of relaxation and rest. Lord knows he needs it. 

Content Warnings: Literally none. Just fluff. 

Word Count: 1968 

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

Meeting Jake Kiszka has been the best thing that ever happened to you. From the very first time you met him, you had immediately known that he was the one. There was something about him that drew you in, and there was no going back. 

Because of this, you couldn't help but to divide your life into two halves. There was Before Meeting Jake and After Meeting Jake. The before had been okay. You had a successful job – however boring it was, and you were happy. You’d had a handful of relationships – though few of them ever lasted long. But life was good. Boring, but good. And then Jake waltzed into your life. And only after did you ever realize how empty the before had been. Jake was your light, and you couldn’t fathom how you had ever managed without him in your life. He made falling in love easy. Jake had entered your heart quickly and made a home there. 

The only downside to being in a relationship with Jake was the distance. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and you couldn’t agree more. While you're proud of Jake and the fame that he and Greta Van Fleet had acquired, you can’t help but miss him when he’s on tour and desperately wish that he would come home. But his time away only makes the times that he is home that much more special. 

Unfortunately, despite Jake not currently being on tour, it still felt like he was never home. The boys were busy putting together their new album, and so Jake was either at the studio with them or running around doing interviews and photoshoots. You got to see him at night, of course. But often, despite his tiredness, he would stay up much later than you to go work on his ideas for new songs. You had work in the morning and so – no matter how much you wanted to, you could rarely stay up late enough to fall asleep with him. 

Tonight was probably going to be one of those nights. It’s already 10 PM and Jake was only just walking through the door of your house, guitar case in hand and eyes excited but tired. 

“Hey, Jake.” You say, rising from your place on the couch to go and greet him. He places his guitar case on the ground and wraps his arms around you, squeezing tight. 

“Hey, babe. I missed you.” He nuzzles his face into your neck, pressing his nose unto your skin, eyes closed. You breathe in his scent, immediately taking comfort in the smell of vanilla and something else that you couldn't define as anything other than just “Jake.” 

“I missed you, too. You look tired.” You pull away from him, noting the tightness around his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. 

“I am. But it was a good day. We got a lot done, so me and the guys decided that we’d take the rest of the week off.” 

“Really? That’s awesome! And I’m off tomorrow anyways so we can have a whole three days to ourselves!” You exclaim, practically beaming with excitement. Jake gives you a soft smile, touched by your desire to spend time with him. 

“Thank God.” He says, walking over to the couch and collapsing into it. “I feel exhausted. I love working on music and we’re having a lot of fun. But holy shit…” He leans his head back on the back of the couch and closes his eyes. “I feel like I could sleep for ten years.” 

“You probably need to.” You tell him, walking over to the kitchen. “Did you eat already? I can fix you something if you’re hungry.” 

“Nah, I’m okay. I’m too tired to eat.” 

You tsk as you grab two wine glasses from the cabinet and grab a bottle of red wine from the counter. You pour yourself and Jake a generous amount. 

“That’s not very healthy, Jakey.” You say, walking back into the living room. 

“And wine is a better alternative?” He chuckles, taking the glass that you offer him to take a sip. 

“Better than nothing, I suppose.” You take a seat next to him, happy to just share the space with him. “So, tell me about the album? How’s it going?” 

He grins, his eyes lighting up. No matter how tired he is, he’s always excited to talk about music. 

“It’s great! I think we’re really making something special. It’s a little different from what we’ve done before, but I think the fans will like it.” He takes a thoughtful sip. “I think… It's just different enough that it’s fresh and exciting. But similar enough to Garden’s Gate that the fans will still like it. We’re trying to toe the line as much as we can – keep what’s worked in the past without getting repetitive, ya know?” 

You smile at his passion. Seeing the man you love get to do something he enjoys so much, with thousands of fans who adore him as much as you do – it’s an amazing feeling. 

“Whatever you guys do, I know it’s going to be amazing. You all are so talented. The fans will love it no matter what.”  

He finishes his glass of wine and places it on the coffee table. 

“Thank you, y/n.” He leans back onto the sofa and a grimace flickers across his face. It’s so fast you probably would have missed it had you not been studying his face so closely. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, babe,” He says, giving you a crooked grin. “My back is just a little sore. Spending a lot of time crouched over a guitar.” He laughs, but you recognize the tightness around his eyes to be pain, not just tiredness. You place your own glass on the table next to his and stand up, offering him your hand. 

“Come on.” 

“Where to?” He asks, already standing and taking your hand. 

“You’re gonna lay down and I’m going to give you a massage.” 

His eyes fill with a mischievous sparkle. 

“Not that kind of massage, Jake.” You scold, leading him up the stairs to your bedroom. “An actual message that will hopefully help your back.”

“Fine.” He sighs, smiling at you as you drag him to the bed. 

“Take your shirt off and then lay down on your stomach. I’m going to make it a little more comfortable in here..” 

“Yes ma’am.” Jake takes off his shoes and shirt and watches you as you move around, lighting the candles that you have scattered across the room. Jake sinks into the bed just as you turn off the overhead light, the only light now coming from the soft glow of the candles. 

“Y/n?” Jake asks as you walk into the bathroom to grab some lotion. 

“Yeah, babe?” 

You walk back into the bedroom to see Jake laying on his back, eyes soft as he looks at you.

“I should have eaten dinner like you said because I think that wine went straight to my head.” 

He giggles, and you notice the flush that’s overtaken his cheeks and chest. You just laugh and shake your head, taking a moment to admire him in the candle light. His hair is pulled back in a loose bun, with little wisps falling out and framing his face. It looks so soft and you want nothing more than to run your fingers through it. Your eyes move downwards, again noting the flush on his chest before your eyes find his soft stomach – no doubt your most favorite thing about him. If he wasn’t so tired and the mood was a little different you’d take the opportunity to bite him. Instead, you walk softly over to the side of the bed and nudge his shoulder. 

“Roll over on your stomach, baby. Just relax.” 

He complies, and you climb up onto the bed. You nudge his legs apart and you gently sink down and straddle his waist.. You squirt some lotion onto your hands and warm it up between your palms before splaying your hands out on his shoulder blades. Immediately, Jake lets out a sigh of relief and you can feel him relax further into the bed. You begin to message him, and you can clearly feel the knots in his upper back and shoulders. 

“Jesus, Jake. No wonder your back hurts.” You say, working your hands down his shoulders and kneading your fingerstips into his biceps. “You’re so tight back here.”

“I know.” He mumbles, voice muffled by the pillows. “It’s been hurting for a while but…” He trails off and sighs as you find a particularly tense knot in his back. 

“You should have said something and I could have helped you sooner, babe.” You say, sliding your hands down farther to his lower back. 

“Didn’t wanna bother you.” He says quietly. 

“Jake…” You say, reaching out to turn his head towards you. His chocolate eyes are glassy with sleep and wine. “That’s what I’m here for. I want to help you.” 

He gives you a lazy smile. 

“I know. But I still feel bad.” 

“Don’t ever feel bad. I love you. And I love helping you in any way I can.”

He huffs a laugh and lowers his face back down into the pillow. 

“I love you too, y/n. So much.” 

You continue your massage on his back, slowly but surely working out the knots and tension. You relish in the feeling of his skin underneath your hands. He’s warm and his scent is so comforting. You feel more at ease than you have in months. Eventually, you hear his soft snores and you rise carefully from his back. You pull the covers over him and take a moment to watch him. The tightness around his eyes is gone, replaced with a softness that you hadn’t seen in a while. His mouth is slightly parted, and his lips look so soft. It’s moments like this that make all of the absence worth it. One moment with Jake like this is worth all the hours of missing him. You’re overcome with a feeling of complete unworthiness. You can’t believe a man like this has fallen in love with you. Of all the people in the world, it’s you that he allows himself to be this vulnerable around. You feel like if you think about it too long you might cry so you shake your head and begin to quietly walk around your bedroom to blow out all the candles. Jake doesn’t stir as you walk to the bathroom to put the lotion away. You walk as quietly as possible back to the bed and crawl in next to him, pressing your back to him and closing your eyes. 

‘Mmmm.” He mumbles, cracking his eyes open. “y/n?” 

“Go back to sleep, Jakey.” You whisper. 

He mumbles something unintelligible before rolling onto his side to face you and slinging his arm around your waist. He pulls you tight against his chest and presses his face into your hair, breathing in deeply. 

“Don’t deserve you.” He whispers. 

“You deserve the world, rockstar.” You’re met with nothing but his soft snores. 

You smile and close your eyes. 

[lipstickchainsaw]

What do you think about the Fury and the respective routes that you can take to her (Tower, Adversary)? In my playthrough I got her through the tower and was subsequently a little disappointed at Adversary's take (probably since I was expecting a little bit of variation due to the absence of godhood)

And, if you have time, what do you think of the Apotheosis?

Well, this one's been waiting in my inbox for a while, so let's get to it.

The thing about the Fury is that she is defined primarily by a great identity crisis, having a certain identity/role established at the end of Chapter 1 and then having it totally denied over the course of Chapter 2. Yes, the Tower and Adversary are very different, and the way you deny them are different, but the result of that is remarkably similar, so let's have a look!

(I'll talk about the Apotheosis in a reblog.)

I, too, got to the Fury via the Tower the first time, so let's start there. The Tower is a Princess defined by your attempt and subsequent absolute failure to slay her. Your perception of her is that of someone impossible to lay a finger on, so why even bother, and the role she grows to fill to meet that perception is of a god.

And your inability to resist her extends even to your choices in the Tower, because she can outright overrule or preempt your choices in a way no other Princess can, even taking control of the Narrator. It's how she defines herself, and being joined by the Broken only further enhances this.

And then you defy her anyway. You go right against what she demands of you, defy her even as you stab yourself at her command to cut her heel, to draw blood. This sullies her image to such an extent that it causes a mental break, because this shouldn't be possible. You should be a broken simp worshipping her at her feet, freeing her from her bonds in the culmination of her being as a god, and instead, here you are, plunging your blade into a god's heart.

So the Fury ends up looking the way she does, her flesh torn, her perfect image clearly sullied and corrupted, her heart open for all to see. At the same time, this incongruence between the two roles your perception might've made her fill (and the tension between the Broken and the Stubborn), the thing that's making her have this mental break, also leaves her tapping into some genuinely incredible power, basically insta-killing you no matter what you try, pissed off as she is.

Taking the Adversary route to get here, the connotations are obviously different. It is, as you mentioned, missing the divine element, but crucially, the Adversary is also defined by one very simple thing: you both fighting to the death and clearly enjoying it.

She outright says, as she dies in Chapter 1, that doing this was 'fun'.

So when you meet her again, her sole purpose in life, the one thing she wants and cares about, is fighting to the death. If you give her this, everything is fine, and she reaches the culmination of her reason for being, and it is glorious.

However, you can turn this desire to ash, either by talking to her and force her to think about her circumstances, or by turning this glorious desire into a horror show as you keep getting up despite your, uh, face being gone (which is fun, I definitely recommend doing this once).

And here, too, the Fury is an identity crisis. All her muscles, all the power you imbued her with in Chapter 2 were useless, so you see her tear her skin off, tearing the chain binding her (to her role, her position with this entire set-up) off along with it. She still wants to fight and kill you, but instead of being glorious, it's now turned bitter and hateful, and she can't even use physical violence to satisfy this urge, so, in her frustration, she just rips you apart with her grander power as she comes unshackled.

In short, by forcing either Adversary or Tower to go against her initial nature, you break a bit of the greater system operating behind the scenes, and let her tap into some of the Shifting Mound's power to break you, right before the Shifting Mound claims her.

(Also, I compared the Adversary's lust for violence to sex, and I think you can apply some of this to the Tower, too (literally worshipping the domme 'goddess'), which makes the Fury the result of orgasm denial. You're welcome.)

[talonabraxas]

Shiva and Shakti - The Divine Union of Consciousness and Energy

In the Tantric cosmology, the whole universe is perceived as being created, penetrated and sustained by two fundamental forces, which are permanently in a perfect, indestructible union. These forces or universal aspects are called Shiva and Shakti.

The tradition has associated to these principles a form, respectively that of a masculine deity and that of a feminine one. Accordingly, Lord Shiva represents the constitutive elements of the universe, while Shakti is the dynamic potency, which makes these elements come to life and act.

From a metaphysical point of view, the divine couple Shiva-Shakti corresponds to two essential aspects of the One: the masculine principle, which represents the abiding aspect of God, and the feminine principle, which represents Its Energy, the Force which acts in the manifested world and life itself.

Shakti here stands for the immanent aspect of the Divine, that is the act of active participation in the act of creation. This Tantric view of the Feminine in creation contributed to the orientation of the human being towards the active principles of the universe, rather than towards those of pure transcendence.

Therefore, Shiva defines the traits specific to pure transcendence and is normally associated, from this point of view, to a manifestation of Shakti who is somewhat stronger (such as Kali and Durga), personification of Her own untamed and limitless manifestation.

Owing to the fact that in a way, Shakti is more accessible to the human understanding (because this regards aspects of life that are closely related to the human condition inside the creation), the cult of the Goddess (DEVI) has spread more forcibly.

Shaktism on Shiva and Shakti

Shaktism’s focus on the Divine Feminine does not imply a rejection of Masculine or Neuter divinity. However, both are deemed to be inactive in the absence of Shakti. As set out in the first line of Adi Shankara’s renowned Shakta hymn, Saundaryalahari (c. 800 CE): “If Shiva is united with Shakti, he is able to create. If he is not, he is incapable even of stirring.” This is the fundamental tenet of Shaktism, as emphasized in the widely known image of the goddess Kali striding atop the seemingly lifeless body of Shiva.

Broadly speaking, Shakti is considered to be the cosmos itself – she is the embodiment of energy and dynamism, and the motivating force behind all action and existence in the material universe. Shiva is her transcendent masculine aspect, providing the divine ground of all being. “There is no Shiva without Shakti, or Shakti without Shiva. The two […] in themselves are One”.

The 5 Powers of Shakti

There are many aspects, forms and names of shakti who is the mother of all. In creation she distinguishes herself, or through the will of Siva, into three basic aspects:

para-shakti (transcendental energy),

apara-shakti (immanent energy) and

para-apara-shakti ( an intermediary energy).

In the texts of Shaivism we also find a reference to five supernatural powers of shakti, awakened in himself by Siva. Their permutation, combination, concealment and manifestation is believed to be responsible for the multiplicity, plurality, diversity and duality of the beings and objects and their forms and shapes in the manifested worlds. The five aspects of shakti manifested by Siva are:

chit-shakti or the power of consciousness,

anada-shakti or the power of bliss consciousness,

iccha-shakti, the power of desire or will,

kriya-shakti the power of action and

jnana-shakti or the power of knowledge

Siva unleashes these five powers in the beginning of creation and withdraws them back into himself at the time of dissolution. In between he employs these energies for the purposes of creation (srishti), preservation (sthithi), samhara (destruction or modification), concealment (tirobhava) and revelation (anugraha).

Shiva Shakti Story

The legend of the marriage of Shiva and Shakti is one the most important legends related to the festival of Mahashivaratri. The story tells us how Lord Shiva got married for the second time to Shakti, his divine consort. According to legend of Shiva and Shakti, the day Lord Shiva got married to Parvati is celebrated as Shivaratri – the Night of Lord Shiva.

The Legend goes that once Lord Shiva and his wife Sati or Shakti were returning from sage Agastya’s ashram after listening to Ram Katha or story of Ram. On their way through a forest, Shiva saw Lord Rama searching for his wife Sita who had been kidnapped by Ravana, the King of Lanka. Lord Shiva bowed his head in reverence to Lord Rama. Sati was surprised by Lord Shiva’s behavior and inquired why he was paying obeisance to a mere mortal. Shiva informed Sati that Rama was an incarnation of Lord Vishnu. Sati, however, was not satisfied with the reply and Lord asked her to go and verify the truth for herself.

Using her power to change forms, Sati took the form of Sita appeared before Rama. Lord Rama immediately recognized the true identity of the Goddess and asked, “Devi, why are you alone, where′s Shiva?” At this, Sati realized the truth about Lord Ram. But, Sita was like a mother to Lord Shiva and since Sati took the form of Sita her status had changed. From that time, Shiva detached himself from her as a wife. Sati was sad with the change of attitude of Lord Shiva but she stayed on at Mount Kailash, the abode of Lord Shiva.

Later, Sati’s father Daksha organised a yagna, but did not invite Sati or Shiva as he had an altercation with Shiva in the court of Brahma. But, Sati who wanted to attend the Yagna, went there even though Lord Shiva did not appreciate the idea. To her great anguish, Daksha ignored her presence and did not even offer Prasad for Shiva. Sati felt humiliated and was struck with profound grief. She jumped into the yagna fire and immolated herself.

Lord Shiva became extremely furious when he heard the news of Sati’s immolation. Carrying the body of Sati, Shiva began to perform Rudra Tandava or the dance of destruction and wiped out the kingdom of Daksha. Everybody was terrified as Shiva’s Tandava had the power to destroy the entire universe. In order to calm Lord Shiva, Vishnu severed Sati′s body into 12 pieces and threw them on earth. It is said that wherever the pieces of Shakti’s body fell, there emerged a Shakti Peetha, including the Kamaroopa Kamakhya in Assam and the Vindhyavasini in UP.

Lord Shiva who was now alone, undertook rigorous penance and retired to the Himalayas. Shakti took a re-birth as Parvati in the family of God Himalaya. She performed penance to break Shiva’s meditation and win his attention. It is said that Goddess Parvati found it hard to break Shiva’s meditation but through her devotion and the persuasion by sages and devas, Parvati, also known as Uma, was finally able to lure Shiva into marriage and away from asceticism. Their marriage was solemnized a day before Amavasya in the month of Phalgun. This day of union of God Shiva and Shakti is celebrated as Mahashivratri every year.

There is no Shiva without Shakti and yoga is a realization of the unity of all things. That is not to say that everything in tantrik texts is figurative; many describe practices which are said to bring about this realization.

Shiva Shakti Mantras

Shiva Shakti Panchakshari Mantra

“Om Hrim Namah Shivaya”

Important Shiva Shakti Mantra

(i) “Om Shiva Om Shakti”

(ii) “Namah Shiva Namah Shakti”

(iii) “Om Sarva Mangal Mangaley Shivay Sarvarth Sadhike

Sharanye Trambhake Gauri Narayani Namostutey”

Therefore, Shakti is the dynamic power of Siva through which he manifests the worlds and their myriad objects and beings. He brings forth the worlds and their beings through his will and his dynamic energy, Shakti.

Art – Shiva & Shakti by Talon Abraxas

[astarlons]

baldur's anatomy.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

no answer from your god, but one from the vampire spawn. autonomy created from the greatest threat to your brains, bodies, and the entirety of Faerun if this threat would have its' way. autonomy created despite the great illithid in your head forcing otherwise. or: autonomy comes when an absence of your worship exists. how do you move? who do you speak with? with both of the powerful sadists that guided astarion & dark urge, they go through the complications of reclaiming one's autonomy. & dark urge has a crisis in their faith, religion. there is an ache to get an answer, a feeling from their god. they witnessed it among their friends -- shadowheart, lae'zel. gale. even astarion knew cazador's gaze was upon him. where was the gaze for you? where was the gasp in the wind where the gasp leaves your victims body? what would you do for that answer? AO3 Link

Bhaal had created you for a purpose.  

     It stops there . What purpose? What were your hands crafted to do? There was much more to discover; and would you have the opportunity before the world as everyone knew it? What was your world as you knew it? Were you meant to bring that order and society back to the surface? 

What was the reason for your purpose? Was there a reason? Was it to simply be?

Cazador had created him from sadist hands for a purpose. 

     To sate the sadism hunger that no doubt grew with the promotion of Vampire Lord. Entrenched in Astarion’s own flesh on his backside; loosely translated by you and finished by Raphael – Astarion’s main purpose for Cazador. 

Autonomy was not for the jester concept of purposes. You have a purpose, and you do all in your power to reach it;

           – even if everything and everyone you have reached for has claw marks entrenched. 

Both parties with maddened hands, all for occult and different purposes. Sadism lies in different homes, perhaps even villages eons away from one anothers location. Sadism always leads to a greater good – an increase in impossible power. The roads that lead to the greater power, a greater good – for somebody; laid with lakes of red, bodies with rich and tragic lives, ended with the same tone. Lives that were enriched and lived fully, ones that had potential testified by their loved ones that soon laid next to the bodies. All slain for a greater purpose. 

— And you both have defied two very, powerful sadists.  but have you been defined? 

The both of these tragic personas should have never crossed paths of one another, idly brushing shoulders in busy roads of Baldur’s Gate — much less be responsible for taming a Netherbrain. Much less being entangled in each other's sheets, durations getting longer as the days grew the same. Leaving small items of one in another's tent, assuring a retrieval at the soonest possible time. Much less meeting, but knowing the other; the feral claiming of your own bodies, choosing to merge the two of you, together . 

A choice. Made by the both of you. A choice made less cautiously each time; there is a safety net to catch your body from the hundred foot fall. The first time ‘no’ was even hinted at through small jerk-backs, a shying away look, all of it was respected and respected mutually. There were moments later down the line where words had been used; no hesitation nor poor excuses to revoking one’s consent. 

A choice. Made by the both of you.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

A tongued path of your saliva leads to your destination. Your own sharpened teeth press down on Astarion’s ice flesh. A subject of desire — not a subject of death , sits below your weight. Your mouth leaves behind a trail of purple bruises  on the vampire’s neck down to his chest. There is a . . . foreign gentleness with the way your teeth select each spot to mark. It surprises the two of you; foreign to your bodies. You should tear into the spawn’s thin skin, rip his skin apart with your teeth to expose his stilled heart and glistening rib cage.

You do not. This is autonomy . 

Your minds intensify – as if a rope pulled around both of your heads and an impossible figure uses great strength to pull forward. Like a dog . Minds slip into their own intimate connection, into their own rich bed. Your minds frame one another and become one – Astarion was you, and you were him. Inside each other in the most intimate of fashion - even spilling inside you was a whisper compared to reading the scripted walls of your brain. Etched in every corner; a memory you had yet to uncover, your urge tethered to every corner. He could see the homicidal bile that fills your head; and you could see flashes and fragments of his two tortured centuries. Hesitation writes on his walls; but the performance to please is his first instinct. Was it simpler to be an actor of an applause worthy performance? How long have you worn a mask? How long have you been in this profession?

Far too long, my love. 

You take a risk. Are you violating? His internal walls etched with two centuries worth of torture until his body comatosed numb, sadistic abuse used in horror stories, and a taunting from his former master. He alluded to Cazador appearing in dreams once his head falls to the bedroom. No, Astarion is letting you in. What his vocal cords could not mutter into words that once would be tortured out of him for a sadist’s amusement. You see he reaches even his own wits end several times over the course of his imprisoned centuries. Heavy bags hang as heavy draped under his solar eyes the same color as what bleeds from his victims. No choice but to accept what hands detach him - then reattach him - to do it all over again. No soul in their right mind willingly submits to a vampire lord’s torture; but after witnessing what his hands have done, what else could you do? You pass away; by yours or his hands, and he travels to the ends of Faerun to find the very antidote to bring you back. Only to torture art out of you, to torture a beautiful, life enriching song from your yelps. Only to do it all over again. 

– Your hands were not those of his sadistic former Master. He knows that, you know that. So why does his flesh feel like a performance of execution when your teeth graze over his skin?

Your head lifts as the intimate connection fades and your minds leave the rich bed. Astarion’s white brows furrowed as his eyes darted frantically around the small enclosed tent, before finally setting on your face which awaits his sight. A bead of nervous sweat drips down from the tense forehead. 

     “The pesky worm loves to kill a mood. Doesn’t it, darling?” A dry laugh comes from the spawn. Your time off the Nautiloid, you have started to connect and understand unspoken emotions with body language. You knew how to instill fear; you knew how the goosebumps littered a body, the breath remaining iron locked still, anticipating your next move.

Astarion was anticipating your reaction to his poor excuse. Would you be able to clue in on the undertones of his words? How his laugh is drier than his usual that echoes with a soft bass to it? The sudden dip in his tone as if a child caught in the middle of pickpocketing? 

You could. You did . 

     “No mood was killed.” You assure him; the left side of your lips curling to an assuring smile. You continue to humorously play; while he understood you knew the true reason. “The ‘ pesky worm ’ advising us on more important matters.” Dry laughter earns a genuine chuckle from the vampire. You see as relief washes over him; mind, soul and body. 

One of his capable hands reaches to your sharp jaw; usually clenched, and he frames the side of your pink, sky freckled cheek. There is a rush of cold to the side of your face; but it feels safe. You could pool yourself in his hand, in his body; it would be safe. He knows you are safe; your hands are safe. Some painful memories and feelings entrenched for over two centuries carried its burdens; and he was cautiously optimistic after you proved you were willing to carry. That was a double edged sword; a two way street. However you may see it fit. As you first confessed to him the bile of murder that fills your head; the obsession to smear campgrounds with internal organs, he never turned his backside to you. The burden of Bhaal and its remaining unknowns, the burden of centuries under Cazador’s sadistic rule; burdens you both willingly carried together.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

     Fate . What constitutes and governs such an idea, such a way of life? How we exist. Who holds the puppet strings for the ultimate control? With the red and deceased fragments your hands have mutilated and picked up along this journey, would fate have you here? Were you a mad god’s experiment gone wrong? Unleashed to wreck hells in your existence? Were you an associate of the very cause you hunt?

Your hands should never have traced over the cold flesh that is entrenched with Inferno. Despite the lack of knowledge you had of your bloodstained origins prior to your bones nearly crashing falling off of the Nautiloid; your brain understood and could translate Inferno quite easily. However, the fragments of the language on Astarion’s skin were left in parts of a larger puzzle. Using a single digit to trace over his backside; the placement of your hand on skin that could be compared to a skilled ice spell felt . . . right. Was this a test to your worship? Was the vampire you now spent more days with than isolated merely a test? Were you a test? 

Autonomy worn on any other flesh form was owed, was a way of life. Why was your autonomy to be questioned? Why were the words and commands brought by Sceleritas Fel’s haunting jester tone the way of your life? Why did you feel inclined to follow it? To go against any command; your bones felt as if they were being grinded, snapped into several pieces. Your head hangs heavy; like an Orthon sat on top of you. Your head fills with an impossible screech; only sated with giving into its desires. Was this your autonomy? If so, why fight against it?

Your body convulses like an undead patient against the violent urges every time you touch the vampire spawn. Every time you share food around a crackling fire with folks who should serve as your walking grounds. Their mutilated bodies should hang on sticks around your encampment, creating your kingdom that fell to ash. And yet, you share long-cooked food and watch the backsides of each other. Why ?  

Fragments of red only exist. As if the flesh on your fist rained red down your forearm; smashing a most prized mirror of several hundred feet tall. It would take eons to put the fragments back together, to see the flesh – the truth, the origins where your bloodthirst – where you come from. Your worship from prior to the Nautiloid must have been entrenched in not only yourself, but the grounds you walk; the walls that hear you speak and pray. Your God must be watching for you, must be directing your hand. This worship must be sacred and held as such ; a beautiful , bloodied and dead babe.  

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Inside the circle your blacked out hands must have created, that laid the poor Bard Alfira’s body, you prepare yourself in a pose of worship. Your head lowers – being closer to your unknown worship. Not that you knew, but if you were to hang your head any lower, you may be bestowed with a kiss from the Hells. After all,

               where else could you have been birthed from? 

Your hands form together in a tight fashion; your fingers interlock with your knuckles fleshing a shade of lighter pink. 

     “ My . . .” You already show hesitation? Do you even know who you are addressing this prayer to? This act of decreed to your worship? “- . . . .Lord.” Whoever, whatever held strong affections and love for you, they continue to remind of your worship even with your lack of memories, they must hear you now.

     “It seems I stray from your light.” Darkness? What God of light would have you dismember innocents and place them for dining decorations? Was this all a part of a grander scheme for good ? “Your guidance. Your hand as you see fit.” Whether your worship’s hand beat you into a deeper state of submission, rewarded you for finally using your words for it? You ached with a need for any and all confirmation; any sort of sign that your worship has not abandoned you. 

Or that you had abandoned it.

Lae’zel, Shadowheart, their religion had shown through vague feelings, wounds, a change in the air. Maybe judgment arose from some of your other companions who did not falter to religion, but you all saw how they welcomed their gods and purposes with open arms and hope. Why did yours only answer when a body is present? Who were you? What crafted you? 

     “ Please .” Your voice strings out. “ Anything. Anything you can give me.” You hiss out, desperation in the way your face scrunches in annoyance and your flight or flee rises in your gut. Your hands tighten in a sweat-tight grip, frantically going from a pose of prayer to a pose of a merged clenched fist out of two. Anything your worship could give you? What about what you could give your worship?

No Answer.

The very subject of your worship remained mute. Was this all a part of a greater plan? Was the whistle or the snapping of a branch a caution from your subject of worship? Was the circle of innocent blood you stained your clothes with and sitting in your answer? There was no discrimination of who or what your hands manipulated and ravaged – or was there? 

Your nails gently scratch the forest ground’s dirt, before entrenching your fingers in the soil. Your knuckles grip as if you were digging a pile of united bodies from your camp; as if you buried them and their full lives. Perhaps you did. Perhaps that is why your worship remained mute. Frustration grows in the way your teeth clench, jaw clicks shut. Your urge slowly grows from your gut to your throat all the way to the brain that leads your hands. A nauseating process, oftentimes blurring your vision. It comes up in a bundle of nerves through your throat - it remains stuck. What words could you form with a razor blade aching to be swallowed with your next protest? All you could use to communicate anger was with your very two hands. Responsible for some of the most gruesome communications. 

Yet . . . this is not the urge, is this disappointment? 

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

An answer.

With your hands entrenched deep in your victim, your sacrifice’s exposed stomach contents – twisting the intestines as if they were your daggers and your subject clung to life. Your beloved sacrifice’s eyes drained of life, hung heavily to the back of their skull. Eyelids half closed - enticing a small laugh from you. “Unsure whether to go peacefully or fight back?” You taunt a corpse, their blood staining your teeth when you smile widely. The sight was degrading, absolutely appalling – but to your worship? Worthy of an answer. 

You drag your victim to a secluded area – far from campgrounds. A lesson you should have taken when Alfira came face to face with her fate, now bloodied all over the forest floors. Do you manipulate them with a sly tug of your lips in one direction? Does honeyed liquor do most of your job for you? – No , you would not have been rewarded if so.  

Do you nearly dislocate your victim’s arms by dragging them to your seclusion of choice? Do you hear the cracks of their sockets as your strength nearly rips them to shreds? Does your tadpole sing entrancing words to their head? Was this all of your doing? Could you be a theatre professional for your worship? However your worship would have you. As long as they have you.

With no living soul rushing to the aid of your victim, or a member of their company becoming increasingly worried of their disappearance, this was your answer. This was your calling. You played god, the ultimate creator undisturbed . You did so freely. Your digits leisurely run across the already disorganized streams of blood; and paint with the life source freely on your victim’s face. 

This was autonomy; and your answer.

     “My, My…” Your internal organs nearly erupt from your flesh before your body jumps. Your face immediately turns to the familiar disappointed voice. He taunts with a tsk. Astarion . Standing there in the open – how? Surely , you evaded detection. Of course he would be a step ahead of you. Your nerves with the unexpected arrival shove down the urge down your throat, until its in its near grave of your organs. With fresh blood and innards all over your garments; you shove your sacrifice away.

     “Oh! No, don’t let me stop you, darling.” Astarion raises his hands in a similar position to a pose of surrender, but one of jest. “Continue on with your masterpiece. Planning on a grand surprise to our friends?” He amused as he assumes a position of kneeling in the blood soaked grass. He holds a gaze over the life your hands have undone, your creation. “Terribly messy. Didn’t your god teach you manners?”

You attempt to unravel an excuse. “I. . I need-” 

He interrupts with an audible laugh, raising concern the others could hear you. “You now want to talk? Oh, oh! How cute.” Mockery hangs heavy in his tone. Clarity sinks back to your core; all you feel is utter embarrassment. Embarrassment eats away at your core and its surroundings; what possible reason would you come up with for justifying another gruesome torture ending in death? 

A lower register; so not even the sole birds who watched over your hands’ creation could hear. “ Nobody has to know .” He stands - towering over your frame. 

He could end it all right here. Your bloodied life, your intimacies, all of the personality you have carved with the amnesia you suffer. You weren’t sure if you would stop him. Not like the first situation where his cold knife was pressed against your neck on that abandoned seashore’s ground. Your eyes follow his movements; they stalk to the body and with ease, the adult body is thrown over his shoulder. You see the well practiced routine from over two centuries of luring and a diversity of victims. How he effortlessly picks up the victims weight, throws the weight over his shoulder as if a tailored scarf. How he disappears in a blink with your sacrifice. He may be on his way to your band of misfits to show – “Look what again they have done!” It would be nothing but sense, perhaps even justified. Yet, your mind is slowly convinced that at this very moment, the vampire is hiding the evidence of your misdeed. 

This very interruption. – Another answer. Not from your worship, but from Astarion.

       — How would you answer? 

[prove-it-or-lose-it]

@wayward-wren that other post was getting to be a chore to scroll through, so I hope you don't mind that I'm moving my responses to a new one. If I've missed something you'd really like a response to, just remind me about it and I'll do my best. I think I've pulled everything that I wanted to go over here.

> Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 1:22-23  "For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles..." You're not alone in your skepticism, and that's why we have to rely on God.

I understand why you think that way, but my skepticism means that I can't rely on god. I can't appeal to something that hasn't met its burden of proof in order to explain other things that haven't met their burden of proof either. This just doesn't work, it's not a logical conclusion to make. In the absence of evidence for the claims, I must reject them until they can be shown to be true.

> Where does your morality come from? You can't claim God is evil without defining what evil is. Is evil hurting others? Then being a personal trainer would be evil, because exercise hurts.

This is hard to explain briefly. I mean, philosophers have been trying to nail down morality for about as long as all of written history. But what we see is that morality is an ever shifting social construct. There are things that we understand now to be morally bad which were seen as good or neutral in the past. And in the future I'm sure there are things we won't look upon favorably that are totally fine today.

Morality can't exist in a vacuum, so it needs a goal in order to sort of ground it. For me, it starts simply; the goal is to promote human flourishing and well-being while mitigating as much harm and suffering as possible. The evidence that this is a worthwhile goal is this: we, and even other mammalian species, have an awareness that individual suffering diminishes the chances of group survival, so in order to make sure we all flourish we ought to care for one another.

So I really don't believe in evil, though this might be a semantic point. With respect to my goal stated above, how can I see any moral value to a commandment that tells me that people should be used as property? This degrades and dehumanizes both subject and master, maybe even irreparably, and does nothing to promote human flourishing.

And this view is capable of accounting for nuance, whereas "don't look at someone and think they're sexy," is a harsh, black and white statement that amounts to thought crime, which is something that has no use other than to mentally dominate people and make them subservient. And for what? Thoughts like this cause no harm as long as the thought doesn't lead to any external, non-consensual action, and most of the time if not all, they're completely involuntary. It's control for the sake of control without even approaching being a moral value.

The nuance comes in as well with your personal trainer example, though I'd argue that the trainer is not harming directly but guiding a person through a process that will indeed cause some self harm, but with a positive goal. It's contractual and the recipient knows that the slight harm is to their benefit. Similarly, we consent to surgery which can be very risky harm, with the goal of becoming well. Absolute, black and white commands don't leave room for this and should ultimately be rejected in favor of a reasoned approach that takes all available information into account.

If god commands us not to lie, did he know that in 1930's Germany a great number of compassionate people, often devoted believers, would hide people in their homes who were taking refuge from a fascist regime? Did he expect those people who lied to the officers banging at their door, in order to protect innocent lives, to beg his forgiveness for misleading men with murder and torture in their minds? If my friend is in an abusive relationship and they've come to my place to call for help, and their enraged partner comes to me asking where my friend is, what forgiveness do I need for telling them that my friend isn't there? I've done no wrong, but this imperative given with no caveats or grey areas allowed brands me with the title of sinner and I object. Real life application of morality is rarely, if ever, as cut and dry as these ancient edicts would imply.

> If there is a God who created the world and is so much more powerful than the beings He created, why can't he make the rules?

I don't think that there is a god, or that the world was created, but to entertain the hypothetical; of course, I'd have no choice but to accept that those are the rules, but I'd also have no obligation to follow the rules if I have the free will you say I do. I don't necessarily believe in free will, but I would never follow an immoral command. If a god told me to go and do a genocide on the Canaanites or to keep slaves, for example, I would have all the information I needed to conclude that this god is a tyrant and undeserving of obedience or worship. I'd be damned, but my conscience would be clear.

> The thing with Christianity, is it's a story of God reaching to man. Every single other religion is man reaching to God. Every single other religion is a works based religion. Every single other religion is focused on how we can be Good Enough for God.

I don't have much to say here, except this: do you know every single other religion that has ever existed? Have you studied the Vedas of Hinduism, or whatever texts are foundational to Shintoism? How about ancient religions of fallen civilizations lost to time? Is it not more than a little bit dishonest to make broad, sweeping claims about "every single other religion," especially when your own's adherents can hardly agree among one another on what the official doctrine demands? These things are complicated and we shouldn't make such generalizations given the vast amount of study one would have to go through in order to truly know what you're claiming to know here.