#but that anger will continue to hurt YOU. it will punish YOU. it will prevent YOU from making new deep connections. it will protect you yes

[jinxvex]

can we get jinx w a very doting gf :3

♱ gf!jinx x doting (affectionate)!reader ♱

yes!! i love this request! 🖤 oneshot vibes fr!

cw: a bit angsty at first, little snippets of act 1/season 2,SFW & NSFW!!!, smutty drabble at the end, jinx pushes you into a wall once, you're very affectionate (obv), kissing, hugging, dirty talk, tribbing, praise, dom-ish!jinx & sub!reader, etc etc

wc: 1.4K

jinx had nothing; no one.

not after the her attack on piltover.

her unhinged, yet powerful act of rebellion ultimately caused a war between the city of progress and the dangerous underground city of zaun.

and had forced her into hiding…

i mean, what was worse? being caught by the stuck-up, zaunite-hating, piltie goons who murdered her mother and father or being alone?

she often contemplated that question.

she contemplated her future.

was any of it worth it now that her sister wanted nothing to do with her? now that she’s laid her adoptive father to rest in the contaminated murky river? now that she has a bounty on her head?

she wasn’t sure.

she wasn’t sure if anyone even gave a damn about her or whether she lived or died.

“it’s all just… pointless!” she replayed on a loop in her head, the place that has always been too loud and too daunting for her comfort.

jinx was alone.

well, until she met you.

as jinx sneakily roamed the dark and dingy alleyways of zaun in her not-so-discreet disguise, she was met with (almost) complete and utter silence. which casts an eerie feeling of unfamiliarity within her bones.

the lively (although still dangerous) streets of zaun were usually bustling with people. drunks, shimmer addicts, salesmen, crooks, and goons alike typically overcrowd every inch of the sunken city, which used to allow her to go wherever she pleased without anyone noticing her.

since the enforcers started raiding the city and imprisoning the people of zaun, a petty punishment for her own wrongdoings, many zaunites didn’t feel safe. they opted to stay inside, shut themselves out, and draw the blinds closed to prevent them from being taken too.

as jinx continues to walk towards her destination, “home”, a wave of loneliness washes over her, a feeling she so desperately had attempted to rid herself of for years.

she isn’t inclined to speak, though. not out loud to empty space or to the voices. maybe she’d save that for home.

as her head is angled downwards, looking at her dragging feet, she turns another corner in order to make her way back to her humble abode.

and all of a sudden, she bumps into a hard, human-shaped object? as she backs up menacingly after plummeting into something, she slowly brings her head up and is met with the sight of… you.

“a girl?” she exclaims in her head.

“a pretty one.”

“does she live near here?”

“wait! does she know who i am?”

“is she here to kill me? take me away?”

“no. no! i can’t let her.”

“not now…”

“damn it!”

her thoughts overflow with endless possibilities and scenarios that cause her to grip your shoulders and harshly back you up into the hard surface of a cement building without warning.

you gasp loudly, but as you bring your hands up to fight back and protect yourself from whatever is about to come, your moments are suddenly still.

as you look into her pinkish, vibrant eyes, you’re met with fear. you’re met with anger, loneliness, and suffering, which prompt you to freeze. her face is littered with fresh cuts, scrapes, and scars. your heart squeezes in empathy as you look into each other's eyes—jinx not even having the energy to reach for her gun out of concern for herself.

“you’re hurt.” you mutter softly. your caring nature immediately wanting to help her. jinx. and yes, you know of her. that doesn’t matter to you now.

her eyes still gaze into yours, even as she removes her hands from your shoulders.

“yeah, tell me ‘bout it, sweetness.” she laughs almost mockingly, not towards you, but at herself.

“want me to clean that up?” you point your chin up at the wounds on her face.

she blinks at you incredulously before allowing a smirk to grace her features for the first time in what seems like forever.

“damn! take a girl out to dinner first, babe.”

you smile.

… ( mini time skip!! a couple months)

jinx wasn't used to physical and emotional affection. love. let alone romantic gestures. silco looked after her but struggled to give the affection a parent would once he took her in all those years ago.

at first, she was incredibly taken aback by your willingness to help her even though you knew who she was. you knew who she was and still allowed her to lead you back to her workshop to patch her up. after that day, spent cleaning her wounds, you never left.

she was enamored by you.

by your ability to love.

you were moderately affectionate in the beginning, but as the weeks passed, your excessive praise and doting intensified. at first, it was lingering touches on her face after you insisted on "checking" her facial bandages. then it was moving her hair out of her face and caressing the sides of her head when she's in an episode.

once you started coming up behind her as she was working on her gadgets to link your arms around her waist and lay your head on her shoulder, she was hooked on you.

she did initially flinch and curl out of your touch, but as she took in your scent and realized it was you, she relaxed. she accepted you.

...

"just me!" you exclaim happily as you nudge your face into her neck, and she softly gasps when you give her small, gentle pecks.

"hmmph! you're too sweet to me, buttercup! scares me sometimes..." she fluctuates the tone of her voice from happy to unsure and back to happy again.

one thing she is sure of, though, is her love for you.

as you peer up at her from the side of her neck, you tighten your arms around her, "you deserve it. all the hugs, kisses and love!"

you both never felt a need to verbally establish a label on your relationship.

the night you took each other's first kiss, there was a mutual understanding. you were hers, and she was yours.

when she's with you, the voices quiet, and the visions aren't as prevalent anymore. she feels safe. not just because she's in hiding, still successfully dodging piltover, but because you're there.

although that is the case, you still make her crazy for you.

your unconditional affection ignites a fire inside her that loving you could only put out.

...(nsfw incoming!!)

"s-shit, babe! fuck!" her voice echoes throughout the seemingly endless depths of her workshop as she circles her hips and drags her wet cunt against yours.

your moans and little "oh my g-god!'s" adding to the music that is your pussies grinding together to make filthy sloshing noises.

"fuckin' pussy is so so good, bunny! pl-eease!" she begs you, although she's the one above you, her hand pushing one of your legs up to rest on her shoulder and her other hand pressing your leg down onto the couch. her ass is perched on your upper thigh to allow her to buck her hips up into your cunt as close as she possibly can.

"yes! yes! more, baby! you feel so good!" you babble as you lay back, looking up at her through your eyelashes. she's sitting right side up as she continues to hump your cunt with her eyes glued shut in concentration.

she can feel every pulse, every throb of your heat as she chases her high, and it affects her deeply.

"you're perfect, y-you know that?" you question. "fucking perfect. i love you so much!" she almost stills. that "perfect" word causes her heart to beat out her chest. she slows down slightly as she opens her eyes and looks down at you, looking back at her lovingly.

now inspired by your praise, she then speeds up, even faster and rougher than before.

"yeah? yeah? 'm perfect, baby? you loveee me?" she asks you mockingly as she stares into your eyes.

"yes! you feel so good. so perfect! fuckin' love you! need ta' cum! you scream out.

"mhm! thought so. then show me how good you're feelin' and cum all over me." she demands of you. "make a mess on this pussy, toots."

she lets out a "give me that shit, baby" and a "need my sweet girl to cum, so fuckin' nice to this pussy" to urge you on.

"fu-uck! right there! i'm cumming!"

"shit, me too!"

...

as you both come down from your high, she eventually lets your leg down and sits you upright to hug you tightly.

she feels so appreciated, so loved in the moment that she cups your jaw with her shaky hands and kisses you hard.

"i love you, hon. you're so..."

"i love you too, pow."

...

and y'all live happily ever after, and the events of act 3 NEVERRR happen!!! 😜🥳‼️

[mymindisneverhere]

late night writes… punishment (pt. 1)

18+ SMUT 

part two

Masterlist

Imagine… Terry orders you to keep quiet after constantly dealing with your smart mouth.

warning: bd/sm themes 

arms and legs restrained. knees bent, calves pressed against your thighs, each leg wrapped separately in rope to prevent you from moving them. your lower set of lips parted from the spread of your legs. arms tied behind your back, wrists pressed together as the rope did its job. flat on your back… head somewhat hanging off the bed.

he left you like this for a while, alone. to think about why you lost a few privileges, one of them; the privilege to move freely. 

so caught up in your temporary emotions, you’d move away from him whenever he’d reach for you as a way to express your anger without actually saying anything. your passive aggressive body language bringing his aggression to the forefront. 

finally returning back to the room after what felt like decades but had only been an hour. he stood in the doorway, knocking on the door frame to gain your attention. you turned your head to him, the only part of your body that went unrestrained. leaning against the frame, he asked you if you could tell him why you were being punished.

with his permission to speak, you finally answer, remorseful of course. grateful that you could finally say something. that was the second privilege you lost: the privilege to speak freely. 

you had been quite mouthy with him over the past few days, slick remarks and smart comments leaving your lips anytime he asked you a simple question. 

“what do you think?” had been your favorite response when he questioned you about your sudden change in attitude, when you could’ve just used your words to simply tell him what you wanted… more attention. 

so he decided to leave you alone all by yourself in silence; no music, no tv, nothing. you couldn’t even hear the sounds of him shuffling throughout your home. 

facetiming himself from the iPad in the room, monitoring you from another area in the house. you weren’t allowed to do so much as whisper to yourself or it would add onto the time you spent tied up and alone. 

walking over to the bed he bent down to take your clit into his mouth, making a smooching sound as he pulled away. the sudden encounter causing you to shudder from the feeling of his lips. 

your mind had been filled with so many different scenarios, you made yourself wet just by predicting what he’d do to you. and he knew how your mind liked to wander, that’s why he left you like this. 

he stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed. his eyes trailing over your body slowly as he made his way to the other side. finally reaching you, he stood over your head, staring down at you. 

‘he looks like a God from this view.’ you thought. 

placing his hands on the bed, both at your sides, he bent down to your stomach, the cold feeling of his chain against your belly sending chills up your body. he planted kisses against your skin, licking and sucking each spot he touched. 

his attempt at trying to soften you up before ruining you the way that he planned to. 

he kissed below your navel, between your thighs, right above your lips, exhaling harshly. the feeling of his breath brushing against your clit caused you to bite your lip, preventing yourself from making a sound.

he made his way to your nipples, hard and sensitive. pulling one into his mouth, rolling it in between his teeth, gradually tightening his bite. you turned your head to the side still fighting against your voice, it hurt so good. 

he did the same to your other nipple, biting and then tracing your areolas with his tongue. you lifted your back off of the bed as much as you could to feel more of him on your body. your hole closing around nothing as he continued toying with your breasts. 

‘just fuck me already’ 

you wouldn’t dare say it outloud though. because you’ve been deprived of touch for a few days and not allowed to speak since the start of today, you have a lot of pent up ‘energy’. but you knew better than to express it verbally at this moment. 

he stood up and stared down at you as he reached between your legs, taking note of how wet you were. that mind of yours was something powerful, he had to admit. running his fingers up and down to collect all of your essence on his fingers, he went two fingers deep in your slit. 

fingering you slowly, making sure to coat his fingers all the way up to his knuckles. he loved playing in your sex and you enjoyed it too but you knew eventually it would become too much to handle because this session was for learning purposes only. 

‘it feels so fucking good tho’ 

you naturally let your eyes roll into your head when you hear “eyes”, signaling your eyes to lock onto his. his eyes a bit dark and low as he dug deep into you. the more you focused on his gaze the deeper felt his fingers go, pulling them all the way out then pushing them all the way back in.  

shirtless. you could see the muscles in his chest flex as he pumped you at his own pace. “did you get your ounces like you’re supposed to?” referring to the amount of water you were supposed to drink on a regular basis, his orders. 

“yes daddy” was all you were allowed to say. your walls tightened around his fingers and your eyes began to roll again until you felt a firm hand right under your jaw, pinky grazing your chin. 

“eyes!”

your eyes followed suit and land on his again, his eyes never leaving yours. the longer you focused on his eyes, the more your inner focus went to the feeling between your legs. 

your breathing was deep and slow, matching the rhythm of his fingers. relaxing deeper into the mattress with each exhale. your eyes were still on his but your mind was solely on the pleasure.

a small smile crept on his lips as he noticed the look on your face, you were pleading with him as best as you could without vocalizing it. he enjoyed having you weak like this, the woeful expression on your face was so satisfying to look at. 

he sped up his pace, hitting your spot over and over again as he curled his fingers upward, not giving you enough time to react to each hit before feeling the next. 

relaxing all of the muscles in your body, you could feel a rush threatening to release and you refused to fight it. you couldn’t fight it anyway, he knew your body too well.

he sped up a bit more, still holding onto your gaze, daring you to make a sound. your mouth hung open as your eyebrows lifted in ecstasy.

“oh-“ escaped your lips before you could catch yourself, your eyes widened as the flood released from your body. you pushed all of your breath out as the juices rushed to leave your center. 

you watched his mouth form the words “don’t test me”, making you regret the sound you had made, it was an honest accident that you would still have to pay for. 

finally removing his fingers from your entrance, wrinkled from the time spent inside of you, he dragged them up to your clit that stung from arousal. using the slickness that had gathered on his fingers, they glided across your clit back forth, left to right, the slippery surface making it easy for him to toy with it. 

your body jerked against the restraints as he ran his hand back and forth, gently slapping your spot again and again. it wasn’t like you could do much moving anyway, the grip he had on your neck kept you in place for the most part. 

“say something.” he dared, his fingers still manipulating your clit. you inhaled deeply as you felt another orgasm creeping up on you. the feeling of his heavy hand providing you both pleasure and pain at the same levels. it was a lot to take but also too good to let go of. 

he stared down at you, one brow raised as he watched your lips, seeing it you’d test him further. you knew better tho. 

your legs shook, torso jumping as you let yourself get played with. thankfully your climax was right on schedule. the splashing sounds were the only noise in the room as his rhythm went uninterrupted. 

you bit down on your lip as you struggled to muffle your cries and keep your eyes open and on him. eyebrows curled in defeat as you looked up at him. he was staring into your soul.

your clit had grown so sensitive, too sensitive to be worked over like this but he didn’t care, that wasn’t his problem. 

finally letting up a bit, he slowly caressed your swollen button, allowing you a small window of time to regain your composure. his free hand left your neck and caressed your forehead that was beginning to bead with sweat. 

“good girl” he said, as he slid his hands back into your opening, curling his fingers upward once again, rolling his wrist a bit, his hands pushing back and forth faster than before. “i love playing in this shit”

he was torturing you solely for his own pleasures, barely allowing you time to come down from your last climax or the one before. back to back. 

his hands slid down your head and locked onto your hair, pulling your head back even further. your chest rose again as he worked to pull yet another release from you, his eyes focused on your center this time, waiting to watch it do its magic again. 

his eyes shined as he looked on in awe at how much of a mess you were making on his hands, taking all of the credit for your ruins. a large puddle formed beneath you on the king size comforter and it was your job to ensure it was cleaned properly after he was done with you. 

he stood so close to you, you could feel his hard dick against your face through his pants. you wanted so badly to feel it inside of you but you were in the middle of a teaching. 

getting what you wanted was at the bottom of tonight’s task list. you’d get there only if you earned it.

“shit here it comes” he announced, so in tune with your body and how it responded to certain rhythms and being touched in specific ways. feeling the pleasure built with each pump, your stomach was tightening as he pushed his fingers into you. 

he kept the pace, lifting your head to make you watch yourself squirt all over his hand. your face was riddled with sorrows and pleasures.

“beautiful” he said to himself. you were unsure if he was referring to you, your pussy, or both. 

he kept pumping and the juices kept flowing. your chin pressed into your chest as your vision blurred, a set of tears forming as he drained the rest of your fluids out of you in a different way. 

he pulled out of you and gave a few slaps to your clit, causing you to jerk each time his hand landed on it. pulling your head back onto the bed, he ran his drenched fingers over your lips. smearing your juices all over you before grabbing your jaw.

bringing his face down just a few inches from yours he stated “watch your mouth when you talk to me, understand?” 

“yes daddy.” you whimpered, staring into his eyes. “i’m sorry.” you spoke honestly, regretting the way you treated him up until today. his stern expression softened just a bit before returning to its usual state.

he kissed your lips and stood up to examine you from head to toe. he reached down and finally wiped the tears from your face as he let out a deep breath. 

he wanted so badly to finish you completely, no breaks but your slow blinking and semi-limp body let him know that you may need some time to reset. 

“make it up to me or do you need a break?” he stared down at you, thick eyebrows bent in genuine concern. 

“a break p-please.” you managed, swallowing the lump in your throat after finally being able to speak words other than the only ones he’d allow. 

he smirked to himself, loving the pitiful expression on your face as you looked up at him. 

“okay.” he walked out of the room, shortly returning with water for you. removing the ropes from your legs, he pulled them straight across the bed stretching them slowly. he left your wrists tied as he sat you up straight. 

tilting the straw forward, you took as many sips as desired before he pulled the glass back and placed it on the nightstand. he placed his hands in his pockets and stared down at your mascara stained face as you looked up at him. 

“you can rest for a bit, you’ll need it.”

with that he walked out of the room leaving you there alone once again with your thoughts. you sat there, yet again trying to predict what would be a part of this punishment next. 

you just hoped you’d be able to finally use your words… 

part two tomorrow night 🩵

[soapyghostie]

Hey! Absolutely random request, but imagine reader being a tired person that out of wounds and stress they just fall asleep when they're being carried, about to go on a hook. How would the dbd killers(any, really) react?

Like, imagine. Being carried, without anything under legs can already make someone sleepy if they don't have adrenaline pumped through their veins. Plus, i know that having wounds(aka blood loss) can make people very tired.

Since this request it a little vague, I decided to get a little creative with it and wrote some angst because I’m a sucker for angst with dad slashers (except Frank is your big brother in this request). 😭 Hope you enjoy!

The Ghost Face/Danny Johnson

Danny would be confused at first, bloodlust still kicking through his veins even after killing all our teammates as he carries you, his injured daughter, to the hook (Sorry (Y/N), he’s just doing his job. No hard feelings). He’ll pause for a moment, trying to process the fact that you feel asleep on his shoulder.

As he realizes that you fell asleep due to exhaustion and stress from your wounds, Danny’s demeanor would soften and his parental instincts within him kicks in. He’ll gently adjust you in his arms from being thrown over his shoulder to being carried bridal style, ensuring that you’re comfortable even as he still proceeds to hook you. 

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state would stir up a lot of internal conflict in Danny. He’s torn between his role as a merciless killer and his love for you as his daughter as he hesitates to sacrifice you to the Entity. Danny’s had a lot of bad performances in trials lately and he really needs the 4K. However, to get the 4K he needs to sacrifice you. Of course it has to be you: the Entity is so cruel. 

As to not get punished by the Entity, sadly, Danny will throw you onto the hook. Danny would feel a pang of remorse and sadness. He knows that he’s the cause of your pain and exhaustion, and seeing you in such a vulnerable state serves as a painful reminder of the life he’s subjected you to. He silently reflects on his actions and their consequences. He’ll gaze at your sleeping form dangling from the hook, grappling with the complexities of his emotions and the choices he made. 

Despite his conflicted emotions, Danny remains committed to his role in the Entity’s twisted game. However, Danny’s determination to protect you remains unwavering. He’ll play the Entity’s game and continue this dark path as a killer if it means to ensure your safety as he doesn’t want you to be harmed as a result of his shortcomings… 

The Legion/Frank Morrison

Frank would be initially shocked and panicked to see you, his younger sister, in such a vulnerable state. Despite his tough ‘bad boy’ exterior, he deeply cares about you and seeing you hurt triggers his protective instincts. 

The sight of you falling asleep from exhaustion and stress while carrying you to the hook fills Frank with anger and frustration. He’ll curse under his breath, feeling powerless to protect you and frustrated with the situation at hand. First off, your god damn heavy after going unconscious and, secondly, he has no choice but to hook you due to the amount of failed trials he’s had lately to try and please the Entity. 

Despite his anger, Frank, also like Danny, would feel a sense of inner conflict. On one hand, he wants to lash out at the Entity for throwing her into a trial with him, but on the other hand, he knows he has to get the 4K by hooking you so you end up safe and sound at the survivor camp instead of the agony the Entity threatened to put you through if he didn’t start stepping it up in trials. You’re the reason he has the strength to keep going in this awful, twisted game of cat and mouse. 

Frank would grapple with the feeling of guilt and responsibility for your condition. As your older brother, he feels entitled to preventing you from getting hurt in the first place and blames himself for everything that has happened to you. Despite his conflicting emotions, he would carefully and gently place you on the hook, making sure you're as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. As he watches you sleep on the hook, Frank would have a quiet moment of reflection. He reminisces about y’all’s childhood together and vows silently to himself to do whatever it takes to keep you safe. 

Seeing you vulnerable would only fuel Frank’s determination to perform better in trials. He would be even more relentless in his pursuit of survivors, driven by the desire to protect you from the Entity’s hungry claws. 

The Shape/Michael Myers

Michael would pause, a flicker of confusion crossing his expressionless face. The sight of you, his daughter, falling asleep despite the dire circumstances briefly disrupts his usual relentless pursuit to satisfy his murderous desires. 

Deep within his obscured psyche, a conflict brews. While Michael is driven by an insatiable urge to kill, his parental instincts stir, conflicting with his murderous impulses. This momentary hesitation leads to a brief internal struggle, the likes of which observers of Michael would never perceive. 

Despite the task at hand and the chaos of the trial, Michael momentarily freezes, holding your unconscious body with an eerie stillness. His iconic breathing momentarily ceases, as if he too, like Danny and Frank, were contemplating the peculiar situation. 

In a rare display of tenderness, Michael gingerly adjusts your position, ensuring that you're comfortable even as he prepares to hook you. His movements would be precise, almost caring, as if he’s trying to shield you from further harm, even in your unconscious state. As he gazes upon your sleeping form, fragments of memories flicker through Michael’s mind. Images of you as a child, innocent and untouched by the darkness that now envelopes you both, momentarily soften his gaze, perhaps even cause a subtle twitch at the corners of his mouth – a long-forgotten smile. You are his world. 

Ultimately, the weight of his desire to kill and the futility of his attempts to connect with you wash over Michael. With a heavy heart hidden beneath his iconic mask, he proceeds with the task at hand – sacrificing you to the Entity. With a solemn determination, Michael carries you to the hook, his obsession with killing eclipsing any semblance of any paternal sentiment.

[cemetegee]

John 00:00 (Or John has the Worst OCD Ever Known to men and yes I Apologize him for that)

I've just thought a lot about John, and our fandom interpretations, and... I just realized we get to see almost nothing of his emotions.

(Before you continue reading: this is probably gonna be a hell of a long post. But I really ask you to read it. I think it's absolutely impossible to understand John without the following knowledge. Please.)

The thing we see most of his emotions is his anger. Anger is, however, mostly a symptom of being hurt. (We are able to recept pain, therefore we avoid it.) From my experience, there are two types of people:

Those who direct the reaction to being hurt on themselves (being sad, self accusation)

Those who direct the reaction to being hurt on others (being angry with them)

Jod is clearly... well, both, in a way. But he clearly has a tendency to direct it towards others. I mean, what does he plan to do with his enemies?

There can be no forgiveness for them. He will haunt them until they're completely diminished. (Although it is interesting that he thinks that what he's done is unforgivable, and that he sacrifies his friends as some kind of self-punishment. Maybe we should keep that in mind.)

Side note: he also regains a certain amount of control over his enemies by that.

Jod's Primal Fear

But what have they done to him?

He says it himself: they have left him. John is terribly afraid of being left. That's why he needs to punish those who walked away. Because they've hurt him. And that's why he made half of his friends use the other half of his friends as their batteries:

God must be able to touch all of his creation. John must have a certain amount of control over his friends, so that they can't run away. Because he's terrible afraid that they could leave him. (Most likely because of the early death of his parents.)

But hands down, that's obviously not the only reason why he did that. Many people have a fear of loss without "killing" half of their friends. And at this point I'd like to introduce something many people don't really get until they themselves have it: OCD.

What is OCD?

Yeah, what is OCD? I'd say that's something Augustine can explain pretty well...

John was always so damned careful... No vulnerabilities, no lapses in all that time... It took 500 YEARS to trick him to even release genetic material in front of his friends... You know what that means?

John lives in constant fear. He permanently checks all opportunities how things could go "wrong" and tries to prevent them. And exactly that's what the core of OCD is: People with OCD live (more or less, it gets worse) in constant fear. Most people will always focus on rituals but nooooo, they are only ways to prevent (mostly objectively unrealistic, but that's in a way not so important, because the fear is real, and those who are affected will believe them in a certain way) things from happening. The main symptom of OCD is an overactive amygdala. ("The" part of your brain that processes and saves emotions, especially fear.)

John doesn't have (visible, maybe he has some in his mind - OCD thoughts - we don't know) rituals. But he doesn't have to. What I described earlier is the important part. One other important part (and defining criterium for psychic diseases) is... suffering.

And oh boy, does he suffer! THROWBACK to the part where he said he would let the RB's kill his friends to pay for his guilt? Oh boy, does he feel guilty! Oh boy, does he punish himself!

But let's talk about another fascinating aspect of OCD... John is a child of Generation Z, right? Thing is, even this generation doesn't really have an idea of OCD. The general idea is just... ah yes. rituals. washing hands. Like, it can be like that, but it doesn't have to. (There is not even enough relevant research. For example, there is no research if OCD can cause PTSD. OCD runs on the amygdala. PTSD = overwhelmed amygdala. The connection is not that hard.) You know what that means?

If John had OCD, he would probably not know it. (And his statements support that.)

And here another important thing about OCD: Untreated OCD continuinly gets worse. John is over 10.000 years old. Can you even imagine how BAD it must be AHAHAHA? No, really, I want to be serious with you for a moment: he must be so miserable, you can't even imagine. He is probably reduced to a bunch of fear and (self) hate.

(And he is - quite literally. The only thing that's keeping him alive is his hate against BoE. His biggest dream is to die and get to lie in the Tomb next to Alecto. That's why there's even a way in.)

John's Plans

One other thing that makes me think about John possibly having OCD are the *plans* he has. Many of them doesn't really to make sense to me (at least in a rational way that regards all details.) I mean, let's take a look at his plan for keeping his friends:

His plan for keeping his friends is letting the one half of them kill the other.

I am honest with you, I don't think that's a really good plan. You maybe *technically* stay in touch with your friends, but you doesn't really have use of it if, and half of them is dead. And all those things that make a friendship sweet and worth it (the voluntary love, your friends catching you if you can't do it yourself, the fact that you can talk with them about everything that concerns you) are missing. You don't have any purpose of those friends, they just *exist* and half of them is not really alive. I can personally only explain this to me with an aspect of OCD that I'd like to call: OCD tunnel vision.

If you have OCD and a certain fear gets to you (for example losing your friends) your vision will narrow on calming down this fear, and ignoring everything else around it. (People will actually leave their spouses because they fear they could cheat on them for no reason.) At the end you often will have done more damage than you would have done otherwise. (For example, half of your friends could be dead and the other half could hate you.) But! You have calmed down the fear. For a short time.

Doesn't fit John's "I'm afraid my friends could leave me, so I kill half of them, and the other half has to mourn to forever and will hate me" perfectly in that sheme? I think so.

PS: that may be not that controversial (and not neccessary for the rest of the argumentation), but... I'm not even so sure if his friends WOULD have left him if they had found out the truth. I mean, if the horrors of love are strong enough to do what JOHN did, they are surely strong enough to love a person who's done terrible things. And at the end, they don't try to kill him because of the terrible things he's done, but because he made them kill their cavaliers. John thinks what he's done is unforgivable, but actually we don't know. He somehow forgets that they love him as well. We don't really know if they ever could have forgiven him, because he never gave them the chance to do so.

John's Rituals

I said before that it's not possible to know if John has any rituals. But honestly, over making this post I realized, that he has indeed some very obvious rituals. But what is an OCD ritual?

As already said, OCD confronts you with some fear (what's btw hitting hard because OCD sometimes seems to know you better than you know yourself). To get rid of that fear you'll perform a certain action. (You'll mostly perform it very often since the fear will mostly come back. That's the ritual part about it.) That's why it's called obsessive-compulsive disorder: You have an obsession (the fear) and compulse (the action you do to get rid of that fear).

(Image source: M.Bitton – Wikimedia Commons user: M.Bitton)

But OCD actions doesn't have to be real actions in the real world. It can only just happen in your mind. That's called OCD thoughts. And it's what John has in my opinion.

Let's come back to the beginning. What is it, that Augustine says about him here?

What he says is that John:

Constantly checks his environment for signs of betrayal

Always takes care not to be vulnerable

Carefully (and constantly) concerns himself about not doing any lapses.

All those things can already count as rituals, since they intend to calm down a certain fear (fear of loss) (and he does them repeatedly.) They are the compulsion for an obsession and they are what John is (obviously) thinking about all day. Since 10.000 years.

I want to point out at this point that he thinks of this fear as a heavy burden. (What supports the suffering point.) When he talks to Harrow about what her parents have done he offers to free her from living in fear and the consequences of that:

(He breaks his promise. The point still stands :D)

Jod

But hands down, fear of loss, a need for control and heavy OCD don't make a commitant of war crimes. So what is it, that makes John do all those terrible things? He says it himself:

He can do it. He is a God.

And honestly, I don't think any of us would be better at his position. We all have our flaws. "It's not up to people to play God." The truth is, that being God would be completly overwhelming even for a perfectly healthy, stable person.

It surely, definitely is for someone who is not healthy, not stable and has OCD. I have never in my life seen so many people independently of each other describe a disease as "hell on earth." And to be honest, with the knowledge that he is most likely no evil mastermind with the plans for everything, but a very sick man I can't hate him anymore. (That's maybe because he's not real, but book character, but still :D) He is not the God who stands above things, he is suffering himself terribly. His final dream is to die.

That's btw one of the reason he "likes" Harrow so much: Harrow is canonically schizophrenic and schizophrenia is literally just autism and OCD combined. He sees himself in her. (Although I would say she's nothing like him.)

I have OCD for one quarter of my life now - I know how I evil it can be - and honestly, I don't know what I would have done in his position. I'm just genuinly glad I was allowed to be a very normal G when I started to lose contact to reality and experiencing psychological states of emergency. (Although I obviously hope I would be better.) I think it's much more easy to be "evil" if you have the power to be it. I've always said I'd be not a Jod apologist, but - well, I suppose I am.

PS: I ask, I beg you, if you find yourself in this post only the slightest bit and you have NO OCD diagnosis, please seek for help. It's really a thing that untreated OCD gets worse. It's maybe inconvinient to admit to someone that your brain tells you to kill your loved ones (or whatever else your OCD tells you), but it's definitely much more embarrassing to sit there two years later and have to admit that that's only the smallest of your problems.

Further Education (:P)

If you have no idea what OCD can look like I really recommend reading this reddit.

(And btw: I'm very sorry if you didn't feel like your OCD was portrayed right by this post. OCD can be as different as really any other disease. Here I just focused on the kind of OCD John has in my opinion.)

[seramilla]

(How DARE you post it when I promised I’d be good, now look at what you’ve made me do!!)

Lute may want to see Emily but…why?

Does Emily even want to see her right now??

It’s all just complicated.

Emily is with Odette and Clara when Sera comes to let her know Lute is awake and they spoke.

…And that she wants to see her.

Emily is very hesitant to get up and go. Her mind is racing with an endless stream of thoughts and questions.

Clara and Odette watch her carefully for any reaction at all when Clara speaks up.

“Do you want us to go with you? I can punch her in the face if she tries anything.”

Emily shakes her head breaking the trance she was in.

“No, thank you for the offer though. I think I can handle this.”

Emily gets up and follows her sister to the room and takes a deep breath as she grabs the handle.

Lute is sitting in the bedroom alone with her thoughts.

‘You idiot, why would she want to see YOU? You’re nothing but a vile DEMON that got her and her sister cast out of heaven. It’s all YOUR fault they needlessly suffered! You don’t deserve their kindness. Just look at what you’ve become. Now your outsides match your insides. No better than the very sinners you slew…’

“…shut up…”

It’s hard to breathe suddenly.

“Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!!!”

Lute clutched and clawed at her head and pulls at her hair because pain would usually makes those thoughts get quiet again. She stared at her left arm and grabbed a patch of feathers and pulled….ripping them out right as Emily walks in.

Emily can only stare in shock and horror as she sees Lute tearing out a clump feathers.

“LUTE!!”

"Lute, stop!"

Lute doesn't listen. She keeps pulling, and pulling, until there is a patchwork of tiny pinpricks and golden blood marring her skin, like someone had taken a hole punch straight to her arm, leaving tiny, miniscule openings for blood to come through.

"Lute, please, you're hurting yourself!"

Emily pulls on Lute's opposite arm -- the angelic one, that can still fit so perfectly into the other angel's palm. She tugs when Lute tries to wrench it away from her again, to continue her relentless picking of feathers on her demon arm, but Emily is stronger than she looks. She holds Lute's hand to the bed, preventing her from causing more damage.

"Why do you care if I'm hurting myself?" Lute asks. She's trying to project anger, and that same stone-cold demeanor that Emily is used to. But Emily can see that the wall placed around herself is crumbling. This behavior, this blasé and no-care attitude, has always been a front. She can see that, more than ever now. Lute has always used it to hide the pain.

It's not an excuse, Emily reminds herself. It's never going to be a valid excuse to justify everything Lute has done. But it's an explanation. One she can understand...even if she doesn't support what it used to hide.

"Because I don't like to see anyone in pain," Emily says, holding her hand down tighter. "Even you. Even though I'm still...mad at you. I am still so livid, that I almost didn't come in here. What you did...it makes me so angry to even think about. I still haven't forgiven you, for everything you did! But..."

Emily observes Lute for what she is now. A decrepit, mangled creature, constantly fighting against her own will to survive, and wanting to inflict pain on herself. For what? To punish herself for past mistakes? That wasn't her call to make. To the people she'd wronged...this isn't justice. It's insanity! Two wrongs don't make a right...Lute torturing herself won't change what happened!

"...But?" Lute asks. She tries to make it sound disinterested; like she doesn't care. She fails spectacularly.

"But I never wanted this!" Emily clarifies, motioning to the whole of Lute's body to illustrate her point. "I would never want you to suffer like this!"

"Then what do you want?" Lute asks, turning her head away, and grunting as she tries to lie down. Emily can see it's hard for her to get comfortable. Lute won't look at her now.

"I wanted you to change. See that there could be another way," Emily explains. "Heaven made you do such awful, terrible things. Then told you it was okay, because it was for the Heavenly mandate. Heaven doesn't know everything! They get things wrong, sometimes! They were wrong about me! You could have stood up for me and Sera, but you didn't!"

Lute flinches away. She turns over on her good side, facing away from Emily. Emily can see how much it pains her to do so. But she doesn't let Lute's feigned indifference make her stop talking.

"I know you can hear me. You know I'm right. What I want, Lute...is to be able to forgive you someday. I didn't want to trade my suffering for yours. That doesn't solve anything and just perpetuates the cycle of pain. I just wanted you to see...see where I was coming from. I think now you have. I hope I can try to forgive you, but...you'll need to start learning to forgive yourself first."

Lute doesn't answer. She doesn't even acknowledge Emily's words, even though Emily knows she heard them. Emily apologizes, tells her to "Think about what I said, okay?," and turns away. As she leaves the room, she doesn't see Lute's shoulders quake with grief. She doesn't see Lute cry, as her tears mingle with the golden blood that's already stained her pillow, and wallow in her self pity even more.

[klausinamarink]

In Thunder, Lightning, Or In Rain

rating: M | cw: major character death, mild gore | tags: witch Steve, necromancy, rituals, brief appearance of possessive Steve | wc: 992

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Dec 20: Magic au

Despite the roar of thunder above him, Steve continued his trek into the woods. He stomped hard onto the still-fresh footprints of the crowd that had passed here. Beneath his boots, the ground smothered and turned the new trail into golden-red flecks of ember, floating towards the town by the growing winds.

The willow trees wept to Steve, their leaves brushing across his raised shoulders and wet cheeks. We tried to stop them. We heard his cries but we had done nothing. One older willow stopped him for a moment’s notice, pleading for his mercy. I offered shelter for you and your beloved but they burned my fingers when I reached out.

Steve forgave them all. You made your attempts but do not harm yourselves, he told them. The older willow tree wept again and let him go.

Lightning flashed in the sky. Steve sparsely caught his reflection on the bubbling creek. He looked disheveled. His hair was tangled in different directions, his clothes looked baggy, tears stained his cheeks, and his hands were already from gripping the shovel and ax for so long.

The creek with its minnows and newts lamented for him. We tried to stop them. We tried to drown them but they shoved his head into us. Our waters have always been refreshing to both of you so we couldn’t end him, even in his suffering.

Steve forgave them all. You were always kind and accommodating to us so do not poison your waters with your suffering, he told them and continued on his way.

As he reached the end of the trail, where the embers under his boots stopped burning at the tainted clearing, thunder and lightning embraced each other at once. Then it began to rain. Thick droplets landed on the new grave, twisting the torn up ground awake. They wailed to him.

They’ve hurt him. They hurt us. We tried to stop. But their feet trampled on us and spilled his blood like it was their precious alcohol. They’ve violated the grounds of your loving embraces into this.

Steve forgave them all. Please do not hurt yourselves, but take your revenge on anyone who trespassed here, he told them. The ruined ground wailed again, their cries going silent as Steve started digging.

They haven’t buried him too deep. When Steve saw why, his anger turned the thunder deafening.

They had cut Eddie’s body apart. His bloodied head was placed under his arm, which was missing a hand. His torso had chunks of flesh missing and was only attached to his legs by a single intestine. His feet looked like they had been broken by a hammer.

Steve kept his tears secure in his eyes, careful not to spill them onto Eddie’s remains as he tenderly lifted him out. Once his body was found whole, Steve wrapped him around a quilt like he was tucking in a child for a long journey.

Underneath his knees, the ground wailed again and turned angry, rolling down to the south. Steve stood up and picked up the ax again. The ground was already sinking a blond man, whom Steve recognized at once.

“Witch!” Jason Carver spat, his hair drenched on his forehead, “Release me and face punishment.”

Steve shed exactly three drops of tears as he raised the ax above him.

To revive a soul is to sacrifice a soul, no matter how good or wicked either may be.

—

In his secure and well-hidden covered wagon, Steve worked feverishly in the dark. He shook not with the cold, but with grief and exhaustion. He had rushed back to the town once the winds carried Dustin’s panicked news of the accusations against Eddie for suspected murder and witchcraft. But even though his return failed to prevent Eddie’s fate, Steve refused to let his beloved rot from such injustice.

The storm rattled on, contempt in his aid.

He finished the stitching, cutting the thread with his grandmother’s golden scissors. Then he took the moon-crescent silver knife and carved it into his left side. Steve focused onto the rapid plattering of the rain as the blade touched his sixth rib bone. Once the rib was cut, Steve dragged the knife so it slit easily through his flesh, allowing the bone to come out.

He gently placed his rob bone in Eddie’s hands, positioned to be crossed over his chest, right above where his heart would start again.

Steve lit the candles. Two on both sides of Eddie’s head and seven at his feet. Representing the two lives his lover will now have and the seven realms that gifted magic at every witch’s fingertips.

Steve placed his hands firmly on top of Eddie’s still chest. He sucked in a deep breath and, after hours of containment, finally screamed out his anguish.

In between the short pauses for air, Steve thought of every memory he had with Eddie. Their first run-in at the market, Eddie’s musical flirting, Steve growing a sunflower in between their cupped hands, their first lovemaking, and the very last kiss Eddie had given him when Steve had left.

The flames of the candles grew brighter and taller. Steve could no longer hear the thunder. His horrible cries filled the wagon more. He tasted the salt of tears as they fell onto Eddie’s unmoving face.

An ice-cold breeze passed through Steve’s body, silencing him. He dared not to look up, for no one knows what their own death would look like, even to the Foresights. He kept his eyes on Eddie, watching and waiting for the first sign of life.

A small light-blue wisp fled through Eddie’s lips. Then his eyes shot open, coughing and gasping for air. His chest finally heaved underneath Steve’s hands, though he only removed once he felt the confident heart beat.

As Steve held Eddie close and tight, thanking for his lover’s second chance, he Swore to him to never let Eddie escape his sight again.

[weyounsgal]

Castle Freak: Alternate scene (rating 15+)

My first post and attempt at Castle Freak fan fic so be kind. It's a rewritten scene where instead of rejecting John, Susan succumbs to him. It's pretty smutty - probably because I'm totally head over heels for Mr Combs!

Enjoy!

A soft knock sounded at the bedroom door.Susie looked puzzled. “Who is it?” She asked.Who was wandering around the castle at this time? “It’s me,” came a quiet reply almost hesitant . Susie's breath caught in her throat for a second. The smoothness of her husband's voice had always stirred her. She often longed for him, but her grief and anger had prevented her from succumbing to him for nine long months. She opened the door.The moonlight caught his beautiful brown eyes. They looked sad and hopeful. They always had the power to make Susie weak at the knees. His bed clothes hung loosely around his shoulders, letting his slender softly muscled chest peek through. Susie looked away, refusing to meet his beautiful gaze lest she should succumb and melt into him.“What do you want?” She asked.“Oh, erm, well…as it is our first night in this new place, I thought we could make ff..fresh start,” he stammered, as the hope choked him.She looked in despair at him. “No, no no,” she began to object.He interrupted, grasping her shoulders gently.“Please,” he began to beg.“I was just about to sleep John - I took my pill,”He smiled a handsome smile.“Well, I can wake you Sleeping Beauty, you are in my castle y'know,” he gave a soft laugh as he said it.Susie stirred. He was so handsome; his brow furrowed and his smile…he was a beautiful man.John was now caressing her hair. “You're so beautiful, I've missed you so much Susie. I've missed you so, so much!”He captured her mouth with his.For a moment, Susie let the kiss happen . She had missed him too, missed his taste, missed his soft lips and his mischievous tongue. But then the image of the crash invaded her thoughts she pushed him away.“No!” She screamed.The hurt in his eyes struck her heart like a knife. “It's been nine months!” he lamented. I haven't touched a drop!”“I know…and you've been very good. But..” Susie began.John knelt before her.“I love you. I made a horrific mistake. But how long do you need to punish me for?”She looked deep into those two brown pools. Soon, she’d drown in them. She reached out a hand and touched his soft, white skin and traced his strong, clean-shaven jawline. He leaned in and lightly kissed her fingers.She did not pull away. He was right; she had been punishing him. And she could not deny, she loved him. And in that moment, ached for him. John understood the look she gave him and he continued gently kissing her hand, travelled upwards slowly. He reached her neck.Her scent was intoxicating. He nuzzled in and she gave a soft moan. John spent time there, enjoying her smell and taste too much to move on. He was thrilled to hear her moan in pleasure. He hadn't heard her moan like this for months. The longing to taste other parts of her became overwhelming.He kissed her mouth deeply and only broke away to lift her onto the bed.Susie returned his kiss. Hesitantly at first, as images of the crash and his drinking invaded her mind, but the images faded quickly as she remembered their first encounter in the bedroom, and the endless sex they used to have before the children were born. They worshipped each other's bodies, fascinated and in love in equal measure. Susie looked at him. His slender waist and toned chest had never altered. They were as perfect as ever.John's strong hand was wandering down her body beneath her silk slip. He gently caressed her breast, letting his thumb and index finger explore her nipple which responded quickly to his touch. He moved down slowly to her slim thigh and squeezed her buttocks. She began exploring his body in the same way. She'd forgotten how wonderful his smooth chest felt, with just enough hair to be masculine but enough skin to make it wonderful to touch.“I've missed you so, so much” John repeated over and over as she moaned in pleasure. His hand lightly touched between her thighs, almost hesitating. Susie knew he wanted permission. She grabbed his jaw and pulled it towards her face. She looked into his eyes and nodded before kissing him softly.

Suddenly her moans became louder as she responded to his touch. His soft hand was massaging her exquisitely. He knew where and how his wife needed to be touched. He placed soft kisses on her lips as he circled his fingers. He felt himself harden so much he could almost not bear it. He wanted so much to be inside of her, as close as two people could get, but he wanted to make sure she had her pleasure. It was so long overdue. And he loved making her moan like this. He explored her, inside of her with his fingers, and all around. She begged him to return to the place, and when he obliged, and she felt her own wetness, she shook. He had made her come.She thanked him by way of a deep, passionate kiss.He gently grasped her buttocks and dragged her slowly to the end of the bed. She knew what he wanted, and she longed to feel him moving inside of her. She opened her legs obligingly, and let him place himself inside her. Both of them gave out a soft moan as they joined.Susie wrapped her legs about his waist as he slid a pillow under her pelvis. He wanted to be deeply inside her.He put his arms under her upper back and brought her face as close as possible to his own whilst he slowly penetrated her.He never dropped his gaze. She was a beauty. He truly loved every inch of her and had ached for her for so many months. Now they were finally joined and it was bliss.He barely moved himself - he wanted this to last and knew if he moved too quickly he'd explode too soon.But the way she wrapped her legs she controlled his thrusts, and she wanted him a little faster.He succumbed and began pumping hastily. Their collective moans turned into passionate screams and echoed in the castle. John grunted primally as he reached his peak and they kissed as deeply as they had ever done.“I love you,” Susie said simply.John smiled that irresistible smile.“I love you more, “ he returned.They snuggled down beneath the covers. The smell of their sex lingered in the air and it was delicious. John caressed her hair as she closed her eyes and slept.

[cassidyafton]

REIMAGINATION: CHAPTER 1

Summary: A dark reinterpretation of the events of the Mr. Hopp's Playhouse series.

Chapter summary: Isabelle Hemlock's last moments before being burnt at the stake.

Chapter content warnings: Child death

"NO!"

The girl kicked wildly, attempting to swing her restrained arms. "NO! NO! NO! LET ME GO!" She wailed, anger slowly subsiding into fear. "LET ME GO RIGHT NOW OR I'LL HURT YOU! I SWEAR TO HIM THAT I'LL HURT YOU!"

The villagers murmured in shock. She didn't dare speak its name- even her- but they all knew exactly who she was speaking of. They'd seen its face in grimoires, biblical texts, and most recently, frantically scratched out on the wall of the almshouse recently set ablaze. They called it not he but it, not out of ignorance but fear.

"LET GO!" The girl begged, swinging wildly, trying her best to pull away, to drag her heels against the paved road, creating friction in an attempt to give her even a second to weasel out. "LET GO!"

The men tugged. She wailed again. She'd been dragged along a meter or so more before the blood was visible. Skin scraped right off from around her Achilles tendon.

Fitting, in a way.

"STOP!" She cried, more and more frantic by the second. "STOP IT! LET GO OF ME!"

The men didn't comply.

Two grown men, it had taken, to grab the girl by the arms and pull her along to town square. One of them had taken her in the middle of the night to be imprisoned, and even then, their little mass murderer had fought with just as much strength as the man who'd come to take her away. This time, when she was fully awake and conscious, there was no way that only one man could bring her. Usually it only took one- most prisoners, they suspected, wanted to be hanged with dignity, knowing they had nowhere to go and no way to escape- but the girl didn't stop fighting, didn't stop yelling and trying to pull back. The precursor to her execution had become a spectacle of its own, with a crowd forming like the audience to a freak show to see who would manage to overpower the other party: the little girl who burned down the almshouse or the ever-growing team of men to force her to face her punishment.

Of course, they were all holding their breath for her to finally surrender.

By the time she was brought around the stake, the girl was bleeding, bruises beginning to form on her arms. Hand over her mouth to prevent her from biting, one man held her immobile against the stake while three more tied her around it.

Finally, she stopped struggling.

Black braids fell over her shoulders as her head rolled forward. The only sign of life was her heavy breathing.

"Isabelle Hemlock has been found guilty of the burning of the Beaumont Almshouse," The old priest started, facing the crowd that had only grown since the girl began her tantrum. "And with it, the deaths of twenty. Children, loved ones, family members, friends, charitable caregivers, members of the church. Exactly as she wanted it- these deaths were not accidental. They were by design. Her motivation? A sacrifice to give power to one said to once have been the ruler of hell... and be given her own power in exchange."

Hushed whispers. Nothing was audible or intelligible from where the priest stood. The girl hissed under her breath.

He shook his head and continued. "What we see before us is not an innocent young girl of eleven, but a murderer. Because of the young woman before us, our community has lost these twenty innocents."

He turned to face her.

"Thomas Adalbald. Four years old. Odele Caesar. Sixteen years old. Angheret Adalbald. Twenty-one years old. Lucia Radhold. Twenty years old. Clarimond Pura. Sixty-three years old. Henry Ramiro. Twelve years old. Beatrice Idalia. Six years old. William Hywel. Nineteen years old. Thomas Engelman. Nine months old. Maude Engelman. Seventeen years old. Tristan Baldwin. Fifty-eight years old. Edith Berengar. Forty-one years old. Emmeline Geldwin. Eight years old. Nicholas Fuscian. Six years old. Constance Hugh. Thirteen years old. Ansel Gwen. Ten years old. Jane Lefrich. Five years old. Austin Lambert. Fifteen years old. Elizabeth Macduff. Twenty-four years old."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Sibley Beaumont. Thirty years old. Owner of the Beaumont Almshouse. The poor soul who took you in and raised you, Isabelle, when your own mother and father would not. This is how you repay her."

It started off as a laugh- not a sinister one, but manic. Wheezing and struggling to breathe, the girl cackled like something was really, truly funny.

Finally, she spoke.

"Do you think you're making me feel bad, Mr. Priest?" She mocked. "Ha! That woman didn't care one bit about me. I don't regret a goddamned thing I did!"

The priest bit his tongue. It would be too easy to give the little devil the satisfaction of getting angry. Too easy to yell, too easy to react. He kept his eyes narrow, his gaze dull.

“And for that,” He said simply, “You will perish in the flames. May the Lord have mercy on your soul- if there is one left to spare.”

Another laugh, coughed out and bitter.

“He’ll get no such satisfaction,” She spat. “I’ll follow that whore Sibley to Hell and wait for you to join us, you useless, frigging impotent!”

The old priest nodded to the executioners to light the kindling beneath the girl’s feet. Among the small sticks and leaves, three fabric dolls which had miraculously survived the fire at the almshouse were to burn with her. They dropped their torches to those dolls, and the flames began to lick and eat at the fabric and the wood almost instantly.

Face melting from bitter amusement to fear as she watched her toys burn, Isabelle Hemlock screamed one last time for them to stop before she died.

[littleshiz]

Eng: I would like to tell you a little about Valtor in my fanfiction.

Do you remember the end of the third season? How stupidly did Valtor win? I love and adore this villain and often resented that he was so stupidly leaked.

So I came up with my own version of fighting him and how he was defeated!

I called the war with him the "Fiery Month". Although the war lasted 1.5 years)

After being released from Omega, he almost killed Trix, as they strongly resembled his mothers... But he decided to use the witches for his own purposes.

He was motivated by hatred. Hatred of their mothers, creators. Self-loathing that he can't disconnect from them, do what he wants, not them.

In this state, he destroyed many planets and kingdoms. Some were able to recover, but... Unfortunately, many people died.

Alphea, the Red Fountain, the Cloud Tower fell under his power. Winx, the specialists and their allies created a resistance unit, where the best of the best were. But few people had any hope, especially Bloom.

At some point, the Trix escaped from Valtor, not wanting to die by his hand in another fit of anger, where he communicates with his creators. (They often talked to him, humiliated him, and the like).

Only Icy and Stormy continued their atrocities, but Darcy... She decided to help. I decided to tell you at what point it would be better to grab the magician and win.

The great blacksmith Hagen created special shackles that close the magic inside the wearer, preventing him from casting spells.

The resistance squad managed it. Bloom was the one who shackled Valtor, and then the nearest warriors knocked out the magician, since he was conscious and could still hurt someone.

Princess Bloom (the current queen of Domino and Eraklion), wanted to kill the magician, but could not. Not because she was afraid to kill someone, but because Valtor is immortal. He is recovering quickly. Even if you cut off his head, he will survive. It will recover.

Valtor was placed in the most guarded prison on the planet. To the Punishment Cell. There, the prisoners are in a small room all the time. They are being watched by five or six of the best warriors, who, if anything, will be able to stop the rebels. The prisoners are monitored 24/7, and no one will ever be able to escape from there.

At the moment, Valtor, almost thirty years in prison, is going crazy because of the voices of mothers. They hate him, they say that they should have killed him, not created a Dragon out of Fire. It was necessary to take his life while it could still be done.

What will happen next? Something interesting, because Valtor is not alone in the Punishment Cell... He has an older half-brother who has been there much longer than the younger one...

The older half-brother is the native child of Belladonna (the witch of the dark cold, sort of). His name is Albert and he is... Much crazier than the youngest, but, unlike him, does not suffer from the voices of his mother and "dear" aunts.

I hope you enjoyed a little digression into this story ^^

Русский: Хотела бы немного рассказать о Валтора в своём фанфике.

Помните окончание третьего сезона? Как глупо победили Валтора? Я люблю, обожаю этого злодея и часто негодовала, что его так глупо слили.

Поэтому я придумала свою версию борьбы с ним и как его победили!

Войну с ним я назвала "Огненный месяц". Хотя длилась война 1,5 года)

После освобождения из Омеги, он чуть не убил Трикс, так как те сильно напоминали его матерей... Но он решил использовать ведьм в своих целях.

Им двигала ненависть. Ненависть к своим матерям, создательницам. Ненависть к самому себе, что он не может отсоединиться от них, делать то, что он сам хочет, а не они.

В таком состоянии он уничтожил множество планет и королевст. Какие-то смогли восстановиться, но... К сожалению, множество людей погибло.

Алфея, Красный Фонтан, Облачная башня пали под его силой. Винкс, специалисты и их союзники создали отряд сопротивления, где были лучшие из лучших. Но надежды мало у кого оставалось, особенно у Блум.

В какой-то момент Трикс сбежали от Валтора, не желая умереть от его руки в очередном приступе гнева, где он общается со своими создательницами. (Они часто с ним говорили, унижали и тому подобн��е).

Только вот Айси и Сторми продолжили свои злодеяния, но Дарси... Она решила помочь. Решила рассказать, в какой момент будет лучше схватить мага и победить.

Великий кузнец Хаген создал специальные кандалы, которые закрывают магию внутри носителя, не давая ему колдовать.

Отряд сопротивления справился. Блум была той, кто сковал в кандалы Валтора, а после ближайшие воины вырубили мага, так как он был в сознании и до сих пор мог кому-нибудь навредить.

Принцесса Блум (нынешняя королева Домино и Эраклиона), хотела убить мага, но не смогла. Не потому, что она боялась убить кого-то, а потому что Валтор бессмертен. Он быстро восстанавливается. Даже если отрубить ему голову, он выживет. Восстановится.

Валтора поместили в самую охраняемую тюрьму-планету. В Карцер. Там заключённые находятся в маленькой комнате всё своё время. За ними следят по пять-шесть лучших воинов, которые, в случае чего, смогут остановить бунтовщиков. За заключёнными следят 24/7, от туда никто и никогда не сможет сбежать.

В данный момент, Валтор, почти тридцать лет заключения, сходит с ума из-за голосов матерей. Они ненавидят его, говорят, что надо было убить его, не создавать из Огня Дракона. Надо было лишить его жизни, пока это ещё можно было сделать.

Что будет дальше? Кое-что интересное, ведь Валтор заключён в Карцере не один... У него есть старший сводный брат, который сидит там куда дольше младшего...

Старший сводный брат является родным ребёнком Белладонны (ведьма тёмного холода, вроде). Его зовут Альберт и он... Куда безумнее младшего, но, в отличае от него, не страдает от голосов матери и "дорогих" тётушек.

Надеюсь, вам понравился небольшой экскурс в данную историю ^^

[leuchtstabrebell]

Whumptober Day 4 / Prompt: Shock

It did not rain often in Mos Espa. Some years it did not rain at all.

But Anakin remembers how he could feel a coming storm in his bones, remembers the sweet metallic taste in the air before a thunderstorm. When the storms came, they rained down on Tatooine with a mighty, violent force that seemed to shake the world itself. His mother used to say that it was a cause for celebration because the storm made them all equal. Even the masters could not rule over lightning and thunder.

The smell of ozone used to mean reckoning.

It doesn’t anymore.

Palpatine does not use force lightning often to punish Vader – after all, the machinery keeping him alive is vulnerable to that sort of thing, and it is so bothersome to have to keep replacing fried circuits and broken parts. However, he has no such concerns about torturing Luke or Leia with it. So of course, when Anakin tells them about the mighty storms, about the sacred rains, about the sublime sight of lightning striking the earth, they look at him with disbelief and even some sort of envy. He can’t bare it. Instead, he tells his children other stories from his childhood, about silent defiance, about chain-breakers and cruel masters, and of course they understand those much better. He never tells them that on Tatooine, children born to a free mother are also free. It feels too much like mockery.

Anakin doesn’t know what it was this time – a failed mission, suboptimal performance in training or simply perceived disobedience but in the end, it doesn’t really matter. If Sidious wants to hurt them, he will find a reason, and there is little that could prevent him from doing so. When the twins were small, Anakin used to be able to redirect some of his master’s ire. He hasn’t done that in a long time, hasn’t even seen them much in the past three years. They’ve become adults while Palpatine sent Vader through the Galaxy to do his bidding. They’re fifteen already. Stars, they’re only fifteen. Vader had begged and pleaded to see his children for a few days and Palpatine had finally relented, which means that this time, he is there to witness the aftermath of Palpatine’s increased cruelty. Fifteen is old enough to bear the pain with dignity, after all.

When Luke comes stumbling in, Leia draped over his shoulder and struggling to support them both, he rushes to their side instantly. At first, he thinks it must have only been her this time. She is whimpering in pain, and her muscles keep spasming and she can’t really walk. Then he sees the fine tremors still running through his son, the sweat on his brow, and he feels a deep and horrible ache and anger dwell. He pushes it down. It is neither the time nor the place.

“Sit down Luke,” he rumbles, taking Leia from her brother and placing her carefully on the floor, her back leaning against the wall. Her muscles are still contracting but she is conscious. There are no burns, there never are if Palpatine doesn’t want them to be there, and with Leia and Luke being semi-public figures he cannot afford too many obvious injuries.

“Is your shoulder dislocated again?” Luke asks, sitting down carefully beside her. His breath is still labored, and he seems to occasionally suppress sounds of pain but other than that, he seems, well, not fine, but at least not badly injured. Vader is so focused on watching them that the words only register a few moments later. He didn’t even know that she had been electrocuted that badly the last time. They must have dealt with it themselves. It makes sense – there is no use in whining, and you should never let your Master hear you complain. Lessons he taught them well.

Leia has closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the white wall, while her body continues to move painfully in small spasms. Still, she looks almost nonchalant.

“Father, could you get me that book I left laying on the table this morning?” Luke asks, with pained boredom in his voice. Anakin recognizes that tone far too well, and for a moment he looks at his children, shaking on the floor and he cannot move. The moment passes. He leaves to bring Luke that book.

[deramin2]

This!

And yeah, this is still a big structural problem with Tumblr moderation, but it has a different solution than "kick bigots out of the moderation team." It's that the appeals process needs a more robust way to report targeted harassment as a factor in why someone was reported in the first place.

It's the same reason Black people are more likely to get prosecuted for drug possession: Black people smoke weed at the same rate as white people, but white people aren't reported frequently and Black people are due to racism (by privateer citizens and police). So even if you fixed prosecution to only prosecute people who clearly broke the law and didn't have cops frame them, the enforcement of drug laws would still be biased because who gets reported is biased. (Which is one reason prohibition laws need to be repealed and post convictions nullified.)

It's also why "trans people aren't breaking the rules and being banned anyway" is a bad argument. Quite frequently there was a TOS violation. It's just that most of us are constantly flouting the TOS and it's completely ignored. Meanwhile transphobes ensure that trans people, and especially trans woman, are constantly living under a panopticon where the slightest infraction gets reported, and are constantly baited into violating the TOS through abuse.

Exactly the same pattern as childhood bullies using constant verbal abuse to bait their target into hitting them to make it stop and then running to the teacher about it to complain that actually they were the one being targeted and assaulted. Most schools rules say teachers have to punish hitting other kids, but don't give a shit about ongoing campaigns of psychological torture (a trauma that a lot of trans children also loved to and are predisposed to react too as adults). I'm betting a lot of these dedicated transphobes were also abusers in childhood and faced few consequences or were even rewarded for it.

All these factors are also why Palestinian blogs are getting nuked. Staff aren't searching the tags for Palestinians to ban, anti-Palestinian bigots are. Both looking for the smallest infraction and baiting Palestinians into those violations by using their justifiable anger and trauma.

The fact that transphobes water not being banned for hate speech when it's reported is absolutely a case of moderation rules enforcer bias and them being given continual free passes to be hateful is absolutely enabling them and allowing them to mass report.

Moderation tools that rely on reporting and are especially sensitive to mass reporting are incredibly vulnerable to coordinated reporting attacks. But moderation teams are taught they can't pick and choose who to enforce the rules against. Either there was a violation or there wasn't and what series of events led to the violation are not important. Theoretically this prevents bias and favoritism at the enforcement level, but it doesn't protect against reporting level bias.

(This is why the ACLU's philosophy is that they'll still defend hateful people against first amendment violations because even if those people are garbage, far more and better people are hurt by the legal system picking and choosing unequally. Opinions differ on whether that is an effective strategy to create a better society.)

No social media platform has solved this problem. I think Blue Sky probably has the best protections between the extremely thorough way blocks work and subscribing to user-created moderation lists on top of site moderation. Mostly it just keeps people separated so it's harder for transphobes to interact with trans people at all. It's not foolproof either, but it has led to a much more thriving and safe trans community where most threads aren't full of hateful replies. But that was designed into the structure of the site nearly from the beginning by people that got burned by multiple older platforms. Tumblr's structure would make it extremely hard to implement something similar.

Obviously things need to change this is a completely unacceptable moderation situation leading to the persecution and silencing of a vulnerable minority. But understanding where is actually going wrong will help us identify and advocate for specific policy changes that would improve it. Simply railing at Staff for being uniquely bigoted does nothing to address structural drivers of bias that are outside their hands.

The number 1 change I recommend is considering targeted mass reporting to be a policy violation. It wouldn't solve everything, but it would improve things and there's precedent for it in other site moderation policies (like AO3). If we can bend our energy towards that one change, we can then identify other specific policy changes.

it's so strange to see the response whenever someone gets banned that this is like. Intentional targeted banning from Tumblr. It's not! It's almost always someone getting brigaded until the autoban gets triggered, which is bad but it's a different category of problem and much, much harder to solve.

If what you get from this is "Tumblr bans trans women" and not "transphobes in particular have organised methods for report brigading accounts until they get banned" you will misunderstand the problem and why it persists. It's not a secret that the people getting banned are usually highly visible and/or get into fights a lot!

[opalprince]

Hate Leads To The Devil

By opalprince

*Content warnings for racism, sexism, homophobia, graphic violence, abortion, and SA are mentioned in this story alongside religious corruption; read with caution.*

Once upon a time, there lived a kingdom ruled by a god who ensured that his people were treated well.

If the children were lost, he would ensure that they would safely return to their families; if a woman was abused or accosted by force, he would make sure that her tormentor was punished severely; if the crops were destroyed, he would heal it so that the people would never starve.

The people of the kingdom were grateful for their ruler's kindness and justice; everyone appreciated everything that he had done for them.

Yet the same could be said for a select few,

Among the kingdom of God were his followers, who ensured that God's teaching was spread across the kingdom. Every moral that God taught was their job to teach to the people. Yet, despite their loyalty, they were discussed by some of the choices he made.

The first choice that God made was to ensure that everyone was treated as duke and duchess, and the followers had a problem with this as some of the people who were of different color and beliefs were going to be at the same levels of royalty as they were despite their background and what they look like. So the followers went to God to complain how the people of different colors shouldn't become duke and duchess because they deserve to be at the bottom. However, when they voice their judgment, God says,

" These people have struggled throughout their lives; their ancestors were forced to make sacrifices against their will, fight their way out of slavery, and fight to earn their right to live among you through the harsh environments of poverty and prejudice; they have no sin so they shall become duke and duchess in my land."

Disgusted, the followers left anger but refused to let God know of their disappointment in his choice.

His second choice was to make sure that women had access to a medicine that would ensure that they would never get pregnant till they were ready to reach motherhood. This upset the followers so much that they complained to God again. Saying that women shouldn't have this medicine because it prevents them from learning motherhood, as well as the possibility of killing their womb if they continue to use this. However, after they made their case, God said,

" Women have been through enough, just as they have earned their right to be your equal. This medicine allows them to be ready for the days of motherhood; it helps them they can ensure that they have a stable home, escape their abuser and rapist, as well as they survive death; I will not destroy the medicine that serves them and them alone."

Disgusted once more, the followers left God irritated more by his answer.

God's third choice was to create a potion for those who wanted to change their genders, as well as a powerful blessing because he saw how unhappy they were with the bodies they were in the roles assigned to them after their birth. The followers were livid to the point where one of them attempted to harm the queer couples. However, an Angel appeared before the follower, taking the blow instead. This time, God came to the scene and demanded his followers explain themselves. Once again, the followers discuss their problems and how the people who choose to change their gender and who they love are a sin. To which God replied,

" They have done no sin; they have done nothing but chose the path they wanted for themselves. They did not kill, they did not steal, nor did they hurt anyone. There for they shall not be punished; they will face punishment for you all have not only shown hatred in your hearts, but you have chosen to commit an act of violence in my kingdom, leave and do not come back for a hundred days til you have learned how hatred leads you nowhere."

Punished by their God, the followers left the kingdom and went into the forest, waiting till their hundred days were up. But within the days of their exile, they were approached by a devil.

" Why are you all still in my forest?" asked the Devil. "I thought you would be only around for a few days, but you have been here a month. Why is that?" One of the followers explained their story to the Devil, whining about how God is making fair to those who they hate and how it angers them. And with a gleeful smile, the Devil suggested an idea.

" Your God may have decided these choices for freedom and free will, but they are not permanent, for in four years, another angel will be chosen by the people to become the next ruler and have his title; I will make sure that these laws will disappear for your comfort, however in return, you have to make sure that I am chosen to be the next ruler. "

And without a second thought, the followers agreed to the Devil's term, unaware of the mistake they had made. And once their times of exile were up, God allowed his followers to return with a warning to their hatred. And not wanting to piss God off again, they agreed; till then, they waited till the four years were up till the day of the new ruler came. During those days, they told other people to vote for the Devil by spreading lies, lying about how God wants the Devil to be the next ruler and how the Devil can make everyone rich, but not telling their reason why. Some of the people were skeptical and cautious because they knew that the Devil was nothing but a liar and a narcissist, so they avoided following the follower's advice in favor of the Angel with her promise of lower payments and more potent medicine. Yet, for the others, they accepted it out of the belief of being rich.

As the day came, the Angel and the Devil came among the people to plead their case. The Angel who cared for the people in God's Kingdom claims to protect the laws that God made while ensuring what she had promised to ensure the people that their health will be the main focus. When it was the Devil's turn, he claimed that he would punish every wrong person that God had allowed to live in his kingdom while making rude and inappropriate gestures toward the Angel without care.

Despite the Devil's confession, the people who were convinced by the followers stayed with their decision, and after many trials and tests, in the end, everyone chose the Devil.

Heartbroken by the choice that the people made, the Angel left in grief in her heart but was stopped by God, who told her to gather the people who chose her and to take them to the castle.

While everyone celebrated the devil as their new ruler and God, the followers came forward asking if the Devil would do as he promised in punishing the people they dreamed unworthy as well as the riches he promised along the way.

" Why, of course, I kept my promise," said the Devil, " but I'm just thinking of how to make things worse for you too. Did I focus on the people who don't deserve the title of royalties, medicine, and positions? ALL OF YOU ARE TRAPED WITH ME AS WELL!!!!"

Before the followers could process what was going on, the Devil summoned his minions to terrorize the people who made him the rulers, with the laws that were made by God destroyed. The followers suffer the consequences of their hatred and ignorance by being forced to become slaves, unable to escape as their tounges were cut off, and forced into shoes filled with rusted nails whenever they walked. And they spent the rest of their days serving the Devil till one of them dropped dead.

As the chaos continued for days, the Angel and the people stayed at the castle. God promised the people that the Devil would be gone in four years and that a new ruler would make things right again.

[thepitofjob]

Job 9: 14-20. "The Storm."

In the previous frame we discussed God's Anger. God's anger can be incurred when man is stupid. We recently missed a big pass and got tackled by the Mormons, but they have been planning nefarious things for years, right out in front of our noses so this was really kind of stupid.

Then they attacked the Capitol on January 6, then they attacked Israel on October 7, then well then there's been nothing but more Mormons! And what the world needs is less of is more Mormons.

So while most Jewish people do not consider themselves gluttons for punishment from Mormons, the Mormons are winning a nasty, nasty fight with humanity. All we need is a little anger, some justice, some alone time, and it should be easy for even really stupid people to look and feel smart in this situation at last.

Why are we waiting to administer justice? Why does mankind always wait to the last retarded minute to do what has to be done when this creates more work? Unnecessary work is a sin. It is the greatest sin there is in Judaism especially when social justice is concerned. So right now, the Department of Justice needs to get its asses in gear, do something about the state of things on this lawless and lost planet and put it on a hard charge towards Shabbat.

The Book of Job continues by adding there is no need for mercy when there is Justice. Swift horrible justice alleviates the need for mercy because it acts on the root causes of the sins that are causing the innocent to cry out. The following tract deals with guilt. Where there is a dispute there must an innocent party one that bears the burden of guilt.

Now on an internal side, should we feel guilt when we sin? Guilt within the self is useless. If one has sinned, one must repent, not feel guilt. The absolution of sin follows a specific track in the Torah from the confession, next is the repentance, then the sacrifice, the offerings, and then the blessing. The attitude present during the cause of the guilt determines the sacrifice that is required.

Dumshits who think one hoists an entire bull up onto an altar, so one can feel for lumps in its intestines need to go to the back of the Shule for a nice plump ass whipping because that is also stupid.

Sin and repentance are first discussed in Vayera:

6 So Abraham hurried into the tent to Sarah. “Quick,” he said, “get three seahs[b] of the finest flour and knead it and bake some bread.” 7 Then he ran to the herd and selected a choice, tender calf and gave it to a servant, who hurried to prepare it. 8 He then brought some curds and milk and the calf that had been prepared, and set these before them. While they ate, he stood near them under a tree. 9 “Where is your wife Sarah?” they asked him. “There, in the tent,” he said. [Tents are the heart, where the imprint of the Testimony Stones takes place during the Seven Sacrifices, it is the crucible where one faces all the gossip, slander, the wiles of our flawed perception of history, our animal nature and traditions and become Israeli, it is the desert we cross in order to Overcome. It is where Sarah the Queen of Israel resides.] 10 Then one of them said, “I will surely return to you about this time next year, and Sarah your wife will have a son.”

We repent because we feel love for other persons. To turn three seahs [three hours] into flour and bake bread is the greatest of all the sacramaents. The Number is 1825, יחבה‎‎, "to feel love."

So the way a dispute ends is well before it begins through the prevention of sin because one cannot bear the thought of hurting someone they love. In Torah Time, the amount of time it takes to second guess the incidence of a sin is three hours, the equivalent of three seconds. As the Book of Job says three seahs are a matter of strength as well as reason.

Where there are strength and reason, there is no regret, because there is no need for justice at all. Our governors have never cared all that much for this magic formula because as human beings they never learned how to do it. Just look at all the suffering people on this world because our governments refused to be reasonable and just and convict a few lousy criminals.

The Book of Job and the Torah itself teach us to resist a world that cannot deal with the guilty and protect the innocent, it calls such resistance a storm which explains that totally awesome scene in Dune:

Job's reply to Bildad, "the beloved husband" continues:

14“How then can I dispute with him?     How can I find words to argue with him? 15 Though I were innocent, I could not answer him;     I could only plead with my Judge for mercy. 16 Even if I summoned him and he responded,     I do not believe he would give me a hearing. 17 He would crush me with a storm     and multiply my wounds for no reason. 18 He would not let me catch my breath     but would overwhelm me with misery. 19 If it is a matter of strength, he is mighty!     And if it is a matter of justice, who can challenge him[b]? 20 Even if I were innocent, my mouth would condemn me;     if I were blameless, it would pronounce me guilty.

Storms are equivalent to the First Year after any kind of resistance to the guilty. The oxymoron is obvious, criminals should be arrested not resisted. We are far too tolerant of violations of the rules, we feel too sorry for people who do not need empathy but a pair of handcuffs instead. The Book of Job cautions, discipline thine own self first and be an instrument of justice second. Self-righteousness is not any good:

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 14-15: “How then can I dispute with him?" One can dispute with Ha Shem. Moses and God did not always get along. And we know what happened to him.   

The Number is 13498, יג‎דטח‎, "I will crush, then I will surface."

No one wants their grapes crushed, but unless one is put under the feet of God via the study of the Torah, one shall not exit the Shule as a Jew but as an abomination.

v. 16-17: "I do not believe he would give me a hearing." For thousands of years man has wondered if God is real or not, and if yes, how do we best obey and please this being, who gives us not one second during the day? I once saw this skinny Jewish boy flap in the breeze in a Starfux claiming he wanted Adonai to just give him a sign.

The answer was in his plea, in the word Adonai, which he did not properly understand:

Ado= witness

Na= please

I= The Island Israel.

God is a subtle Spirit, only to a few will He speak and when He does, He speaks though Behaalotekha, the Pillar of Fire so everyone can hear. If God were to answer one crazy Jewish boy at a time, it would defeat the purpose of creating Eretz Israel.

Personal audiences are exceedinly rare unless one digs properly in the Torah. The Number is 10820, קחך, "laugh."

Laughter is Isaac, about which there is a great deal of material, but in this case, it means, "do not perform work without happiness." The near sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham while it was an obedience test, Abraham failed rather than passed it. He did not yet understand the meaning of Shabbos.

We forget primitive man, who was exposed to the elements and to other savages did not have any hope for happiness, he suffered but did not have the means to do anything about it. The sins we are committing now, forcing people to live without the ability to sacrifice for their happiness is grave. The Storm, an abrupt and noticeable shift in our consciousness about the fact most of humanity cannot perform Shabbos has to change. Once this happens, persons who are suffering will know God has been listening to them through the accute ears of his Hebrew saints.

v. 18-19: And if it is a matter of justice, who can challenge him[b]?

It does not matter if someone is running for president or if he lives on the street. All a judge has to do is look in his online calendar find an open spot, set a trial date and execute the law. These delays in the administration of justice, especially in the case of Donald Trump, a mass murderer, are why this planet is going bug-eyed crazy.

Recall how rapidly we wanted to apprehend Osama Bin Laden and how determined we became. His arrest and execution became a do or die objective for the Obama Administration because the world worried failure to do so would be the same thing as paying a terrorist's ransom. Joe Biden needs to pursue Donald Trump, a vile terrorist and put him in the ground with the same ferocity or this idea, the "the just cannot be challenged" will become as utter rubbish.

All mankind must sit on this judgement seat and ensure the right approach is taken, so the Torah is not made to be seen as a foolish ideal that is not worth following. Just repeat the circumstances: Donald Trump led an insurrection against the US Government, was released free of penalty, and then he and his friends in the LDS attacked Israel and now thousands of people are dead. Justice for the Jewish people is a must and cannot wait.

The Number is 11718, יא‎‎זאח‎‎, yazah, "to be delivered."

Deliverance is the real objective of one's trip through the Shule and engagement with the social justice system, though both may seem hopeless at times, this can be changed. Nothing is holding mankind back from fairness in his transactions with himself. This is otter delusion, a holiday from good sense.

v. 20: Even if I were innocent, my mouth would condemn me;     if I were blameless, it would pronounce me guilty. The Number is 8109, חא אֶפֶסט‎‎, ha apest, לא אֶפֶסט‎‎, not ephest, "offset notes."

Spoken words, according to the Rab are no good, only those which are also demonstrated. To offset the notes means to duplicate them perfectly in one's behavior.

We knew the attacks on Israel on October 7 were diabolic but the word's first reaction was "I'm not surprised." Everyone is convinced because of a propaganda engine that the Jewish people deserve to be mistreated because of a few lousy myths and the presence of Nazis on their soil.

Yes, the Ottomans that inhabited Palestine before the people of Israel settled there were allies of Hitler, and now also of his successor, Charles Mary, who is egging on the destruction of the Jewish people with the help of his imp, Donald Trump.

There are grounds within the law to change all of this, but we are recalicitrant from having the hearing because the victims are Jewish. This human civilization was founded and is held together by Jewish people and their sentiments dictate persons like King Charles and his sons and Donald Trump and his fellows must be shorn from the surface of this world as a consequence of their actions.

Nothing else at this time matters to the future of the Shule but this. The law, especially laws forbidding state sponors of terror from projecting force on the basis of religious affiliation or ethnicity, something called genocide, must be honored.

Then we must never, ever be made to have this conversation again. Wherever there is sadness because of injustice the Laws say we must break free and remain free. This has never happened before but now is a good time to pay heed.

[slimeywooper]

Labmas AU - Unintended Consequences

Chapter 16 Part 2 - Event Horizon

The alarm jerks you awake. Sometime between the bouts of weeping, drifting in and out of sleep, and now, you must have been cognizant enough to set your clock, though you don't remember doing so. It doesn't really matter what time you get to the laboratory. Kudari can't be punished because of you anymore. Still, you should at least arrive right when you're supposed to, so Colress isn't angered to an even greater degree than he already is. His good mood is imperative for you to see Kudari, unless you ask Nobori to help sneak you into his room.

You get dressed reluctantly, throwing on your lab coat last. Skipping breakfast, you go straight to the elevator, exiting into the reception room after the ride. Marcello is only given a small nod today, as you go through the door and beeline for the next elevator. Colress is usually in the reception room waiting for you, or he tells you where to meet him. Yesterday, he was so pissed he just ordered you to leave. If he isn't right around this area, he may be fuming in his office. As much as you didn't want to go there, that was a better bet than wandering around searching for him, potentially upsetting him even more for wasting time. Taking the next elevator to the second floor, you exit, taking a left, then turning the corner. Colress is spotted right outside his office, having a heated discussion with Nobori. You immediately slow down, not wanting to interrupt.

"Nobori, please," Colress pleads. "It's not an optimal outcome, but there's no other way. We all need this." Shifting gears, he speaks pragmatically. "I'll let you deliberate for now, but it's not something that will change. I expect your full cooperation tonight."

"So soon? Is there no way we can postpone it?" Nobori sounds as if he has been blindsided by this information.

Colress answers by shaking his head, not breaking eye contact.

Wearing an anguished expression, Nobori mumbles, "Understood. I will contemplate this. You may page me with the time you wish to commence." After his affirmation, he vanishes.

When you approach Colress, he turns and greets you as if nothing happened, "Hello, (Y/N)."

"Is everything all right?" you ask, knowing you aren't going to get an adequate answer.

"Positively wonderful," Colress informs you, with no smile present. "Now for today…" he continues speaking, but you aren't paying attention. This is the first time you've seen Nobori teleport. Something must have really upset him to get that kind of reaction. Refocusing on what Colress is saying, he ends with, "…we can head there now."

"Before we go," you interject, "I need to ask you something. Don't worry, I'm not going to try and talk you into letting Kudari work again. But I have to make a request that you let me visit him."

His response is quick and blunt, "Why would I allow that? He was absolutely heartbroken yesterday. Besides that, Nobori let me in on the details of the conversation that I wasn't present for." He's solely concentrating on his tablet, shaking his head as he speaks.

Great, so he does know most everything that was said, including the desire of Kudari's to escape. Colress probably bullied the answers out of Nobori. "I just want to make sure he knows I never planned to hurt him."

Colress exhales sharply, lifting his head to face you. "Give him a few days to think it through. I'm sure he's deeply embarrassed from the whole situation. I did everything I could to prevent something like this, but it happened anyway. I should never have let…" He stops himself, shifting the topic back, "It's useless to think of 'what ifs.' As I said, wait a few days, give him time to cool off, then I'll let you speak with him."

You don't want to wait, but perhaps it would be for the best. Kudari was very upset, he likely doesn't want to see you right now, anyway. Hopefully he will realize that it really was just a misunderstanding.

Restarting the original discussion, Colress says, "Alright, we'll head to the entrance and you can replace Marcus at the reception desk, then I'll lead him back up to Plasma headquarters."

"Marcus? Do you mean Marcello?" It really shouldn't come as a surprise that Colress doesn't know the names of all of the people he works with, but it still irks you. He literally sees this man a few days a week.

"Marcello?" Pondering for a moment, he then shrugs, "Whoever it is that's there, that's who you are replacing."

"Okay, and why is he going to headquarters?" you inquire.

His face shifts with impatience, "As I just told you, we're implementing some changes to our laboratory policies. He and his coworkers that watch the entrance are all having further training on these policies."

"What exactly are the changes?" Now you're curious, and regret not paying attention when he started his explanation.

Brushing past you on his way towards the elevator, he calls back, "You'll find out when I have a moment to spare, as of right now, that's not happening. Let's go."

Following behind him, you both make the journey to the first floor, Colress solely invested in his tablet, and you silently looking over to him every now and then.

When the door to the reception area is opened, Colress orders, "Marcello, you're coming with me. (Y/N) here will be taking your place. There's something we need to discuss at headquarters."

Marcello looks between the two of you, before announcing, "You're the boss." Standing up, he walks out from behind the desk.

"It's all yours, (Y/N). We'll be back down in a little bit. Don't have too much fun." Colress tells you, with a blank expression.

They board the elevator, leaving you staring at the spot they just left. You snap out of your fixed gaze and settle yourself in the seat on the other side of the desk, placing your phone on the obscured shelf underneath it. The day progresses slowly, and isn't anything other than boring. Perhaps you should be thankful for that.

After a couple hours, they show up again. When Marcello takes his place at the desk once more, Colress dismisses you, "Thank you, (Y/N). You're free to return to your room. I have nothing else for you to do right now. Have a good day."

Somewhat confused, you prod, "That wasn't much work, are you sure you don't need help with anything else?" The only times your shifts have ever been this short are when something bad or unexpected happened.

He gives a curt nod, "Yes, I'm sure."

"Alright, I'll just drop off my lab coat, then be on my way." You make to go back through the door, but Colress holds out an arm to stop you.

"That really isn't necessary," he comments, giving you an emotionless glare that let's you know you should leave while you have the chance.

"O-okay. I'll see you tomorrow." You wave to the both of them and call the elevator, feeling their eyes on your back. When it arrives, you bolt inside and hit the first floor button. As the doors close, you can see Colress is still staring at you, that same distant look on his face.

Feeling shaken from the encounter, you decide to have something tasty to eat, in an attempt to settle your nerves. Lingering on the first floor of headquarters, you place an order for delivery from the same restaurant you ate from on the day you were pining for Nobori. Waiting by the entrance, you thank the delivery person, then head upstairs to your room, so you can sit down and enjoy it. After arriving and hanging your lab coat, you bring the food to the table and retrieve a fork, beginning to eat.

The strange interaction with Colress keeps replaying in your mind, as you take slow bites. Obviously he is still angry with you for what happened, but when you were leaving, his expression wasn't that of anger. It was something that you can't quite pinpoint. It must have to do with the conversation you witnessed him having earlier. If possible, you will try to speak with Nobori tomorrow. You'll be able to ask what it was about, and find out just how sad Kudari is. This will better help you navigate how to go about cheering him up. In just a few days, you'll get to see him again. Hopefully he will have calmed down enough to at least listen to you.

Finishing the last of your meal, you throw the container in the trash and put the fork in the sink. Entering the bedroom, you turn on your Switch, and wait for the game to load. It serves to get your mind off of everything and to give you something to talk about with Kudari when you visit him. After you explain yourself and things go back to normal, that is. Or at least as close to normal as they can be. You won't have him as your work partner anymore, but he will hopefully agree to remain friends, and you can hang out when you have time.

You'll be patient, there's no other option. Just a few days to survive, then you can talk to him and tell him how much his friendship means to you. Perhaps Nobori can even join you two and play some games. When you told him you wanted to be a good friend to Kudari as he is to you, you meant it. Even if he's still upset, he'll come around. Sometimes he has trouble controlling his emotions, but he has a good heart. Smiling at the thought of his excitement at any little thing, you decide to play as many different games as you can, anticipating telling him all the details and strategies you employed. Eventually settling in for the night, you fall asleep with visions of his smile filling your mind, interspersed with his laughter.

[thatnerduknow98]

“I don’t actually enjoy defeating you, you know. I just do it because I’m the only one who can. And I know why you wreak havoc. I know your backstory. You were abandoned and forced to work terrible, abusive jobs that no longer exist. That’s a valid reason to want to burn down the government. But I have to stop you, because that’s my job. And you refuse to surrender until I’ve knocked you bloody to the ground, so I have to continue to knock you bloody. But I don’t like doing it. I know you’re a person under that mask and I know that you’re human and you hurt and I don’t like causing you pain. So why do you keep letting me do it?”

The villain had to think about this for a moment. “My therapist says I do this because I don’t know a life without abuse so I create the circumstances in which I am comforted by familiarity. You knocking my teeth in for the hundredth time is familiar. I have gotten to the point where I begin to enjoy it.”

“So it’s a kink?”

“No, no, nothing like that. You are much too young for me anyway, and that would be super wrong and gross. I may be evil but I have morals in that regard.”

The hero sighed. “Look, I really don’t like it when you force me to hurt you. Can you please find another way to outlet your needs?”

“I don’t know how,” he said. “I wasn’t good enough to qualify for boxing or ufc, but the first time you kicked my butt I didn’t even have to be good enough, you know? You saw a hint of me harming something else and put me in the hospital for a week. It was nice to be taken seriously, I guess.”

“Ok, but there may be other ways you can outlet your issues. Have you tried a peaceful hobby, like gardening or art?”

“Oh I’m actually an artist when I’m not a villain. My lab is covered in paint and canvases of unique shapes and sizes I cut myself. I even have a contemporary piece at the local art museum two towns over.”

The hero nodded and chucked. “Take your pain out on the paint. Or even find another sport. Men’s volleyball is really picking up here. You can take it out on the ball.”

“It’s not the same,” the villain said, face drooping. “I feel like I deserve to be punched and punished. Even before I started doing the things that warranted you to come defeat me.”

“Ok dude that’s called trauma and you need to figure out how to get thru that,” the hero replied, with a hint of annoyance. “Most of us actually feel that way too, like we deserve to be beaten, when we’ve never done anything that warrants it.”

“Why do you feel that?”

“My grades weren’t high enough in school so Dad paid more for me to go to college and then held it over my head.”

“Oh that’s awful.”

“Yeah. But now I save lives to prove to myself that you can be fucking dumb and still a good person.”

The villain pondered this for a moment before replying, “How would everyone react if I just quit? If I took a career change and never needed to be defeated again?”

“Well, we have secret identities for a reason. Just become your identity, and utilize your art and chemistry skills toward something better than colorful bombs.”

“Perhaps I should. But that’s scary.”

“It is scary, but honestly I wouldn’t acknowledge that you as a villain disappeared. If the press asked, I’d just shrug. This way you can change quietly.”

The villain nodded. “I appreciate that. I think I’m gonna try it.” He began limping away.

“You’ll be great!” the hero said. “At least take pride in knowing your decision is preventing me from doing something I don’t want to do.”

Six months later, the art exhibit two towns over had grown so big and expanded that it moved to the duo’s town. The hero went undercover, knowing this was his former enemy’s work, and was surprised to watch the work go from anger to peaceful. The red buildings became soft blue flowers in a meadow.

The hero turned to leave and made contact with the former villain, now an artist. The artist smiled- with his new pearly white teeth- and approached him.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. But they both knew the gratitude was from more than the hero visiting the exhibit.

“Foolish hero. As long as there is evil-” “-Yeah, yeah, you’ll return. But why? Each time you show up, you get your teeth kicked in.”

[mechanical-cryptid]

While all of this has been difficult to watch, and harder I'm sure to love through for those in Gaza and anywhere else Israel has bombed recently, but this is the first time that I was truly brought bro tears. My heart broke into a million pieces reading such a tragic story. There has been a lot of stories popping up (or repopping up, as the case may be) that have made me incredibly angry, disappointed, and occasionally scared. The heartbreak I felt from those was something I would equate to being witness to a train crash. It's scary, it confusing, and you can think about everyone who was hurt or killed, but there's nothing you can do, so the feeling is very surface level. But then you find out what could have been done, and you start to wonder why we still aren't doing it after. Then you find out the victims of the crash are being blamed for the crash, and now it's angering and confusing, because how could the ones who died, or the ones who were injured be at fault for a thing we already new how to prevent?

I keep seeing these stories. I keep feeling the surfa feelings, but I never thought I could really do anything. Sure there's ways to donate, but I am not financially able to do that. The good news for what I can do is that Chicago has a whole governing body assigned to the handling of Israel and Palestinian relations (or something to that effect) (also, I should look into why Chicago has that? Like why specifically Chicago? It's a city in Illinois, which is a larger governing body). There is a way you can reach your local politicians. There are people you can demand change from. While these things may have had nuance in the past, the reality of the present has never been more clear cut. People are being killed as punishment for a crime they did not commit, but a government that seeks to kill anyone who they don't agree with. The people of Israel are protesting the actions of their leaders every day, and Palestine continues to be eradicated because their leaders committed crimes they did not want. A ceasefire won't solve everything, but it will give time for lives to be saved. It will give time for the people to breath, to assess, and to maybe come together against the real problem, the wrong leaders. No one should have to see their child's body, certainly not a child that died for the crimes of someone miles away that they would never know.