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unusualtfs · 3 months ago

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The Roommate Compatibility Program

this is my first time posting something like this to tumblr, hope it's an enjoyable read !

Arthur and Jimmy may have had the same last name, but that was the only thing they had in common.

Arthur Lee was, by all accounts, a nerd. When the Asian math major wasn’t dutifully taking notes on complex equations at his lectures or studying in silence at the library, he could usually be found holed up in his dorm, gaming until the wee hours of the morning. His only extracurricular activity to speak of was his weekly participation in the Chinese Student Union, if by “participation” one meant “sitting in the back of the room and not speaking to anyone.” His naturally pale skin was made even more so by a lack of sunlight, and his messy black hair resisted any attempt at styling. Short, shrimpy, and gay, he had clearly never seen the inside of a gym. In short, he was the exact opposite of his roommate.

Jimmy Lee was everything Arthur was not. Tall where Arthur was short, buff where Arthur was skinny, popular where Arthur was friendless. The straight white jock spent his days living out the all-American college fantasy — playing sports, pumping iron, and partying all night long. Of course, that hardly left any time for Jimmy to work toward his comms degree — but that hardly mattered, because everyone knew he was as dumb as a bag of rocks. His brutish Neanderthal features, extensive body hair, and blond buzz cut only added to that impression.

Maybe it would have been unrealistic to expect Arthur and Jimmy to be friends, but certainly no one could have anticipated the sheer antipathy that defined their roommate relationship. Arthur’s reasons for hating Jimmy were predictable — he was dumb, loud, and obnoxious; he left dirty clothes and sweaty exercise gear everywhere; and he stank up the dorm with his alpha musk. Jimmy equally couldn’t stand his prissy, prudish roommate. Arthur nagged him constantly, and he shot down all his invitations to work out or go out. Not to mention, he forbade Jimmy from getting laid while he was in the room, which was all the time. Nothing said unsexy like the presence of a judgmental Asian nerd hunched over his gaming PC at two in the morning.

Needless to say, it was not an ideal situation for anyone. So when a flier for the Roommate Compatibility Program was slipped under their door one evening, their interest was piqued.

Having issues with your roommate(s)? The Roommate Compatibility Program is here to help! Our trained experts use scientifically proven methods to ensure you and your roommate have a lifelong bond. 100% success rate, guaranteed!

In a rare moment of agreement for them, they decided they had nothing to lose.

That was how they found themselves entertaining a stranger in their dorm the next day. The man, who had introduced himself as “Mr. Thompson-Filipowski, from the RCP — but you can call me Mr. T.F. for short” had shown up out of the blue, giving them no time to prepare. So now they sat in their respective beds, answering Mr. T.F.’s questions as he appraised their living space thoughtfully. He wore a loud blue suit and had in hand a clipboard that he occasionally used to jot down notes, but otherwise he had no distinguishing features to speak of. Everything else about him, from his build to his skin tone to his hairstyle, was somehow impossible to pin down. He must have just had one of those faces.

“Thank you, boys,” he said after he was done interrogating them about their (lack of a) relationship. “I just have one more question for each of you before we can officially get started.” He turned to Jimmy first. “Jimmy, what would your ideal roommate be like?”

Jimmy had to think for quite a bit at that question. Finally, he responded in his vapid baritone: “Uh, I dunno… I guess he would just, like, be my bro.”

Mr. T.F. nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. “Okay, excellent.” He turned to the Asian nerd next. “And Arthur, what about you?”

“My ideal roommate would be someone who’s, well, similar to me,” Arthur said, wincing at how his voice still cracked at every word. “Someone who shares my interests, and who I can spend time with, and… yeah.”

Mr. T.F. returned to his clipboard. “Right,” he said. “So, to summarize — Jimmy, you want your roommate to be your bro. And Arthur, you want your roommate to be similar to you. Is that correct?” There was a strange weight to his words, exuding the sense that something significant was carried within them, but Jimmy didn’t register this and Arthur thought it irrational, so both roommates ignored it. They nodded.

“Excellent!” Mr. T.F. said, the ominous presence now gone from his voice. “Okay, so often what we’ve found at the RCP is that roommate incompatibility is often a case of misapplied expectations. Often, our roommates do meet our expectations, you just need to keep an open mind about it. I’d wager you boys have much more in common than you think.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and Jimmy audibly scoffed at that, but they both kept listening anyway.

“For instance, looking around your dorm room, I can tell that both of you have a pretty similar fashion sense, wouldn’t you say?”

Arthur wanted to protest that all of the clothes strewn about belonged to Jimmy, not him, but the more he looked, the more he realized that wasn’t entirely true. That jersey on the floor definitely belonged to him, as did the baseball cap hanging from his bed and the sweaty white socks next to his desk. In fact, now that he thought about it, roughly half of the clothing he could see actually was his. Huh, he supposed he did dress similarly to Jimmy, then…

“I guess so,” Jimmy said as Arthur was distracted. “It’s hard to remember whose is whose sometimes because we dress the same and wear the same size, huhuh.”

As Jimmy spoke, his words became reality. He didn’t notice, but he shrunk down a few inches from his previously monstrous height until he was just under six feet — still respectable, but no longer anything more. Meanwhile, Arthur rose dramatically to meet him, until they stood at the exact same height. Since the two were equally small and shared the same taste in schlubby, sporty clothes, they essentially owned one wardrobe between them, borrowing and swapping constantly — although what looked tight and well-fitted on the muscular Ajimmy was loose and baggy on the lanky Jarthur. Curiously, the shirt Jarthur currently wore was the one item of clothing he wore that didn’t update itself to match his new reality; as such, it was now uncomfortably small on him.

Mr. T.F. continued, “And judging by the sports gear and gaming equipment in here, it looks like you also have similar interests, isn’t that right? Have you ever tried bonding over that?”

Again, it seemed Mr. T.F. was mistaken. Yes, their room indicated their respective interests in fitness and video games, but those interests were far from shared. Jarthur wanted to correct him, but then he had to reconsider. While he wasn’t into sports like Ajimmy, he certainly knew his way around them. He got as hyped as any other guy watching the Super Bowl, and he had fun whenever he was invited to play a quick game of basketball or soccer.

Meanwhile, Ajimmy was trying not to laugh at the implication that he liked video games. What did Mr. T.F. take him for, some nerd like Jarthur? But now that he thought about it… he did have fond memories of owning his bros with his mad gaming skills. He didn’t really want to call himself a gamer — he wasn’t into any of that anime or Nintendo kiddie shit. But Madden, CoD? Yeah, he fucked with those.

Imperceptibly, the dorm room shifted to match the roommates’ changing interests. Posters of popular players duplicated themselves from Ajimmy’s side of the room and pinned themselves into the wall above Jarthur’s bed. At the same time, the gaming computer vanished from Jarthur’s desk, swiftly replaced by a small TV between their beds. Well-used controllers popped into existence, one for each of them. The roommates themselves weren’t spared from the wave of changes, either. The tan leached out of Asjimm’s skin until he was quite pale, although not unhealthily so. Meanwhile, muscles made themselves known for the first time all across Joethur’s body. He was still lanky, but there was a definite sculptedness to his body that had never been there before, demonstrating his newfound appreciation of physical activity and straining his shirt even further.

“Yeah, all the time,” Joethur responded to Mr. T.F.’s questions. “I can destroy Asjimm at basketball in real life and in 2K,” he bragged.

“As if!” Asjimm retorted good-naturedly. “Next time, I’m kicking your ass, nerd!”

Joethur laughed. He may have had some problems with his roommate, but their shared competitiveness was not one of them.

“Ah, that’s lovely to hear,” Mr. T.F. said, checking a box on his clipboard. “The best way to become closer is to spend time together, after all. But that should be easy for you two — I’d imagine your class schedules are quite similar, since you’re in the same major.”

What was Mr. T.F. talking about? Joethur had never taken a comms class in his life, and Asjimm would certainly never be caught dead in a math classroom. But then Joethur went over his class schedule in his head again, and he realized that he did share most of his classes with his roommate. There was Accounting 101 on Mondays and Wednesdays, and Entrepreneurship every Thursday morning… In fact, aside from Joethur’s one math class and Asjimm’s lone comms class, their schedules were identical! But how could that be the case…?

“Well, I mean, yeah, I guess we do,” Asjimm said. His face twisted into a cocky smirk. “But just between you and me, it’s not like we bother to show up to class most of the time, right Joethyr?”

Everything suddenly snapped into place for Joethyr. Ausjim was right, of course — being a business major required confidence, charisma, and leadership skills more than anything else, and both Joethyr and Ausjim had that in spades. It certainly didn’t require studying or smarts, which was fortunate for Joethyr, as his brain was rapidly shrinking to match his meatheaded roommate’s. In fact, it was even smaller than Ausjim’s — he had scored highly enough in high school math that he was able to take an elective comms class for an easy A this semester, while Joethyr was being forced to struggle through calculus for a second time.

Records across campus rapidly rewrote themselves to reflect this new reality. Ausjim’s grades rose slightly, even as Joethyr’s GPA dropped from a 4.0 to a 2.0 — but whatever, C’s got degrees. In turn, the two roommates underwent their own changes. Joethyr’s unkempt hair retreated into his skull, leaving behind a slick fade. Moreover, the spark of intelligence retreated from his eyes, leaving them dark and hard. Ausjim’s hair experienced the opposite change, growing out into an impeccably groomed quiff that perfectly framed his face, neutralizing his unattractive Neanderthal features. His body hair also faded into nothingness, leaving him totally clean-shaven. The business classes he was taking had taught him the importance of presentation, after all.

“Yeah, bruh,” Joethyr agreed, now speaking in the same vacant timbre as Ausjim.

“Well, how do you boys spend your time then?” Mr. T.F. prompted. He was nearly at the bottom of his checklist — this far into the process, he didn’t even need to guide the roommates’ transformation. Their new personalities had largely subsumed who they used to be, and would be happy to fill the remaining gaps by themselves.

“Isn’t it obvious, bruh?” Ausjim said. “The gym — duh! Gotta get those gains!”

At his roommate’s proclamation, Joethy underwent a startling change. At last, his muscles ballooned all across his body until they were identical in size to Ausjim’s. No longer did he have to settle for merely toned — he was well and truly ripped. So dramatic was the change that his shirt was instantly torn apart, revealing his glorious pecs and washboard abs for the world to see. The Asian hunk subconsciously flexed as he thought about his answer to Mr. T.F.’s question, realizing something funny in the process.

“Hell, we probably even spend more time at the Chinese Student Union than class, right bruh?” Joethy nudged his equally jockish roommate.

The word “Chinese” resonated in Ausjin’s mind as he experienced sudden changes of his own. His lush hair was quickly thickening and inexorably staining itself midnight black. And as for the rest of his body, his lack of hair down there became much easier to maintain, as he naturally had less of it. Meanwhile, his facial features were shifting all at once — brow softening, nose broadening, eyes narrowing, lips plumpening. Eventually, they settled on what the rest of his body had already become — a carbon copy of his roommate.

“Yeah, bro, totally…”

At the word “bro,” the roommates’ final changes began. The physical refinements were over, but there was still work to do mentally. Ausjin’s brain was purged of the faces of his former family, their white features morphing into far more familiar Asian ones. Fond memories shifted as his mother’s famous meatloaf became her authentic dumpling recipe, and the destination of his childhood summer vacations was corrected from Europe to China. Through it all, he remained the dumb, popular jock he had always been. That was also true of Joethy, who could no longer remember being a lame, skinny nerd. Nights spent studying were replaced with nights spent partying, and members of an extensive social circle easily entered the parts of his brain that had never experienced true friendship. His memories of his family remained the same, however — with one key addition. The newcomer’s face was blurry, but the more that he focused on it, the more familiar it seemed. Almost like… his own face…? Or was it Ausjin’s face? That seemed closer, but…

By Joethy’s side, Ausjin found his memories haunted by an identical face. The two jocks sat there in dumbfounded silence, both trying to recall who it was that featured so prominently in their memories. What was his name? Not Joethy or Ausjin, but rather… rather…

“Joey! Austin!”

Joey and Austin Lee snapped back to attention, refocusing on their strange guest.

Mr. T.F. chuckled, putting his clipboard away. “You boys zoned out there for a sec! It’s okay, I’ll get out of your hair soon. I just have one last question for you — are you getting along as roommates?”

“Well, of course we’re getting along, bruh!” Austin exclaimed.

“We’re basically the same person already!” Joey finished his twin’s sentence with a pure, dull guffaw.

Because it was true. Joey and Austin Lee were clearly cut from the same cloth: The identical twin Asian jocks were both brainless, buff, bisexual business-major bros. The only appreciable difference between the twins was their hairstyles. Austin fancied himself a pretty boy, spending hours by the mirror meticulously maintaining his gelled hair. Joey, meanwhile, rocked a utilitarian crew cut, confident enough to put his angelic face on full display. But other than that, they were totally inseparable — everything they did, from working out to gaming to partying, they did together. (Rumor had it that they even fucked together, only bringing a lucky girl or guy home when he or she was willing to share.)

“Great to hear that! Thanks for participating in our Roommate Compatibility Survey, you two — although I don’t know what results we were expecting from twins like you… Anyway, have a great one!” As Mr. T.F. exited the room, he allowed himself one last glance back at the Lee twins as they mindlessly bantered. Both of them had certainly gotten their wishes. Joey was exactly like Austin, and Austin was exactly like Joey, and they were certainly each other’s bros — in both senses of the word. Another success for the Roommate Compatibility Program.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Mr. T.F., the Lee twins promptly forgot he had ever existed, returning to their existences as paragons of young Asian American masculinity.

“So, what’s the plan for today, bro?” Austin said. “Hit the gym, then hit the streets?”

Joey smirked, admiring himself and his twin in the mirror. “You know me so well, bro!”

#male transformation #male tf #racial change #race change #personality change #mental transformation #jock tf #twinning tf #broification #jockification #dumber tf #gay to bi #straight to bi

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inky-duchess · 20 days ago

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Fantasy Guide to Constitutional Monarchy

As there are many breeds of government, there are equally as many species of monarchy. Today, we will be learning about the concept of constitutional monarchy and how we can write them within our WIPs.

What is a Constitutional Monarchy?

Constitutional Monarchy is a monarchy that is bound by a country's constitution, where the monarch doesn't rule but they reign. The government acts and runs in the monarch's name, at their pleasure and owes their allegiance to the Crown but they are the decision-makers.

The Power and the Glory

The monarch doesn't have the power to rule but as Head of State, they still retain certain powers and responsibilities.

The monarch has the right to:

Warn a Prime Minister/Chancellor against a decision.

Be consulted about all state matters, crisis and news.

Advise and encourage.

The monarch has the responsibility to:

Be impartial, no matter their true feelings

Support the Prime Minister/Chancellor in their efforts to lead the country

The monarch usually retains power in the form of the Head of the Armed Forces (though most can't declare war), has the power to dissolve a sitting government, has the power to sign bills and legislation into law, by the opening of Parliament and recieves diplomats and ambassadors.

Why a Constitutional Monarchy?

You might be asking, why would a monarch agree to all these rules and limits? They are the King/Queen, no? Shouldn't they have all the power? Easy answer, they want to maintain both their power and their heads. Most modern monarchies have ceded to be bound by constitution because autocracies come with as many dangers as they come with benefits. A constitutional monarchy is often chosen to protect the monarchy, ensure it's longevity, appease the public and modernise to fit with changing opinions. The monarchy that doesn't adapt, doesn't survive. If a monarch truly believes in the role of monarchy and their duty, they would do well to consider how much they are willing to sacrifice in its name. It also provides a unifying figure for the country to look up to without the divide of political opinion and creed.

Constitutional Monarchies Across the World

The UK: The monarch's role is ceremonial, they open Parliament, grant Royal approval to bills and meet with the Prime Minister to be informed of the government's doings.

Sweden: The Swedish monarchy is symbolic only.

Japan: The Emperor of Japan has no governing powers, he recieves foreign dignitaries, participates in traditional events and rituals.

Spain: The Spanish monarchy has the power to dissolve government, summon government and appoint the Prime Minister.

Norway: Norway's monarchy is heavily symbolic but the monarch resides over the Council of State, signs official documents and undertakes state visits.

Belgium: The Belgian monarchy is also ceremonial but has the power to appoint the formateur who leads coalition negotiations, signs laws but these acts must require the signature of a government minister.

The Netherlands: The Dutch monarch has a ceremonial role, with the Prime Minister and Parliament holding political power. The monarch’s duties include signing bills into law and representing the country at official events

Thailand: The Thai monarch has a cultural and ceremonial role but politics is the business of the elected government.

Monaco: The Principality of Monaco is an exceptional version of a constitutional monarchy. While the Prince is bound by the constitution, he had the power to appoint the Minister of State and the Government Council. These bodies are directly accountable to the Prince. The Prince has the right to propose laws to the National Council, veto laws and formally enacts the laws approved by the National Council.

Denmark: The monarch appoints the Prime Minister who leads Folketing, they sign all acts passed by the government which must be countersigned by a Cabinet Minister and participates in state ceremonies.

Lesotho: This monarchy is ceremonial too but the King has the power to appoint the Prime Minister and other officials (on governmental advice).

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bioethicists · 4 months ago

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Come Chat about Psych Abolition + Harm Reduction!

Over the past several weeks, I've hosted 5 Zooms where we chatted about psych abolition + its futures + the work we want to see in the world. It was a deeply healing experience for me + I appreciated hearing from all of you so much more than you could even know. As I discussed, I am hoping to host a second set of these Zooms, this time 6 in sequence, focused on harm reduction + psych abolition. Harm reduction is both my vocation + my passion in life + I'm really excited to share about it with you all.

As some people requested, the format this time will be a little different- I will open each session with a brief (~15 min) presentation from either myself or one of my comrades discussing the topic + explaining crucial works in a way that is accessible to someone with no prior knowledge of harm reduction. After that, we will chat similarly to the format of the first set of meetings, bouncing ideas off one another + sharing what resonates with us + what doesn't.

A reminder to anyone who wants to attend that under no circumstances may anyone contact the authorities as a result of anything spoken about during the Zoom. Free discussion of self-injury + suicidality + substance use are expected without fear of being “crisis” intervened upon. That being said, the goal of these chats is not necessarily to be a support group but more to talk about psychiatric abolition, build community, + increase knowledge.

I will be doing 3 weekday evening sessions + 3 midday Saturday sessions (apologies to those who observe Shabbat! My Sundays became a bit haywire), hoping to accommodate people with different work schedules + time zones. They will be via Zoom. Each topic will repeat 2x, but I still encourage people to attend both if they want to chat more about it! 'Lurking' (aka camera off, no speaking) is encouraged! Any way that you want to show up is okay- we regularly have people attend who do not engage at all, or only engage in the chat. Chat messages are read aloud by me to ensure that chat participants feel equally included in the group.

Also, I am looking for people who have resources that may be helpful for these, as well as people who might be interested in speaking about their experiences with these topics. Unfortunately this is all just done by me, in my office, so I don't have compensation to offer, but anyone who wants to contribute in any capacity is encouraged to reach out <3 Elliott @trans-axolotl will be giving the presentation portion for Harm Reduction (Self-Injury + Suicidality).

Also, if you would like to join the Madness + Liberation forum where we discuss psychiatric abolition at greater length, please feel free to fill out my Google Form here.

Those of you who need a dial-in number, please message me on Tumblr or send an anon + I will provide it.

Resource Masterlist

Summary of the first set of sessions, Substance Use

Summary of the second set of sessions, Disorderly Eating

Summary of the third set of sessions, Self-Harm

(image by asako narahashi, 2003)

#psych abolition #anti psychiatry

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for-ests · 6 months ago

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Blood Bound: Sukuna x Reader

Pairing: Heian era Sukuna x witch concubine reader Warnings: hella plot w/ eventual smut Word count: 6,800+ Summary: Gifted to the King of Curses by your coven to produce the strongest heir, Sukuna gets more than he bargained for when he realizes you come with conditions. But once he finally gets a taste, he can't get enough. I honestly don't know what compelled me to write this. But if others enjoy I was thinking about making an actual fic!! this isn't fully flushed out yet but I hope it makes sense. This will eventually connect to my Gojo fanfic too!

Sukuna had all the concubines he could ask for, but there was one who was a big headache. You. Disrespectful and conniving, you were the only one who stood up to him. And for some reason, he allowed it. But that was because you were different from the rest. You weren't like the other pathetic waifs he was expected to entertain; you were special—a witch, a curse user from one of the most powerful covens in his territory. And you loved to remind him of it, stalking around him and nosing your way into his business but never giving in to his desires. He could have disposed of you long ago, but that would've wasted your talents. And, of course, your beauty.

When you first arrived at the palace, you didn't want to get closer to Sukuna, you didn't even want to talk to him. Especially when you realized he was unaware of the conditions he bound himself to. But with each day that passed, you found yourself seeking him out more, with whatever attention you could get—which was usually his lingering eyes as you paraded around with the other women. Like cats and dogs, you argued with Sukuna just so he would respond to your defiance. You didn't submit to just anyone because they asked. Even though Sukuna was the King of Curses, you were still a powerful witch—and you wouldn't be demoted to just an ordinary concubine.

You weren't just something pretty to look at. Your purpose was to continue your bloodline, to pass that magic down as your ancestors did, with another man of equal or more power. The first night where you revealed the truth to him was a night you didn't want to repeat.

Sitting under a cherry blossom tree, Sukuna let out a growl. You had forced him to attend another garden picnic with all the concubines.

You often did things like this intentionally, smirking at him whenever he would complain and spreading the rumors to everyone before he agreed. Even Uraume was in on it, always preparing the best foods for him at your request to soften the blow.

Why do you have so many concubines if you don't want to spend time with them? You would mock, your underlying intentions amiss in his brain. All you did was play mind games. If you wish for an heir, shouldn't they be happy, too? A happy and healthy concubine will bear the strongest children.

Whether you were referring to yourself or not, Sukuna was open to the idea. You were right, after all. And that's why he put up with it, partially to spend time with you, too. You always ensured you were busy whenever he thought about calling you to his room. And the few times you had, you only played Go with him and won.

What an insufferable woman. He thought, watching you fan yourself from across the garden, twirling a lock of your hair around your finger, only glancing at him when he looked away.

"More wine Master?" One of the concubines approached Sukuna.

"Master, would you like to try what we cooked?" Another concubine animatedly served him a plate.

But you would bask in the sun on one of the finest cushions conquest could provide, away from the rest of the group, only participating when he requested you.

His eyes narrowed on you once you stood to get a cup of wine. "Let Y/N serve me, this was her idea so she must be the one to deal with me," he told the others, shooing them away with the raise of his hand.

Sukuna wasn't in the mood to have any other concubine clinging to him but you.

As you approached, you rolled your eyes. "Don't call him Master," you said to the women as they backed away. "He doesn't deserve it."

Sukuna smirked as you poured him some wine, his fingers grazing yours softly. "You never learn, do you?" he asked in a quiet, mocking tone so the others couldn't hear.

You didn't have much to learn, though. You knew he liked power, and you had a lot more than all of his concubines combined. You were the only woman there who had almost mastered sorcery.

Then, a little more loudly, making everyone stop and pay attention to you, he said, "How would you address me then? Surely, you're not the kind of woman who calls your master darling, are you?" he joked mockingly while licking his lips.

Once you finished pouring his wine, you smirked to yourself, knowing that in the end, you were his favorite concubine. And in his own way, he respected you in return.

"I would call you by your name," you replied, loud enough for the other women to hear, satisfied to hear their giggles, knowing it would rile him up further. Even if you loathed the other concubines, entertainment was welcomed as the months passed. It's not like you could just leave the castle and return to your coven whenever you pleased.

Bending down slightly, you whispered into Sukuna's ear with a lustful drawl. "Such a title must be earned."

As you turned around, Sukuna raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips as he watched you return to your cushion, another glass of wine waiting for you to devour. You always acted unbothered, but ultimately, he suspected you were. Why else wouldn't you accept the offer of being his concubine? Your relationship with him was in limbo because you craved something more.

He sipped the wine, letting the flavor spread across his tongue. He knew you liked to defy him, and he found it quite amusing. "You're quite the bold one," Sukuna said, his voice low yet teasing. "But I assure you, Y/N, soon enough you will beg to call me Master."

Sukuna was transfixed by your defiant behavior, knowing full well you challenged him because you knew he wouldn't lay a finger on you. He knew your coven protected you with a spell, so he couldn't physically punish you. Despite the frustration, there were still beneficial reasons why he kept you around. It took bravery to even bother with him, and he admired you for it. Perhaps you were the only woman he was genuinely interested in.

Sukuna listened to his concubines gossiping amongst themselves as he sipped his wine, wondering how he would break his little witch in. He had already tried using his power on you, but as expected, the protection spell had kept you safe. Not that he minded; it just made the chase more amusing.

Ever since you'd been offered to him as a bargaining chip to save your coven, a day hadn't passed where he didn't think of you. When he saw you for the first time, an unquenchable flame ignited inside him. How you looked that night, emerging past the elders in a revealing black dress decorated in gold and jewels, a tiara with rubies dipping between your brows, was a sight he couldn't seem to forget. The Onryo. They called you.

At the time, Sukuna didn't want a bride, only a concubine. But each day you tempted him, his resistance faltered. Months came and went without you in his bed, and he grew restless and irritated. You opted to tease him instead, insulting him whenever he disappeared with one of his concubines. He knew you were a prized possession; he knew it was dangerous to overstep the protection spell your coven put on you, ensuring no rules would be broken. You already promised him the strongest heir possible, but he still hadn't agreed to every condition in the pact. He wasn't ready to give up his concubines, and you knew that.

And you didn't budge, only wishing to fulfill your duty when the time was right, for your coven and Sukuna's dynasty.

Over time, Sukuna continued to tire of the other concubines, increasingly ignoring them to the degree that his chambers remained barren for the past few months. It was bothersome, as he didn't like this feeling of… dissatisfaction. None of them excited him the way you did. None of them challenged him like you.

It all came to a head when he caught you flirting with the palace guards. His eyes burned with frustration, and he summoned his fire, stepping forward before Uraume's sudden presence distracted him.

"Permission to speak freely, Sukuna-Sama?" they bowed their head slightly.

"Yes." Sukuna's tone was sharp, eyes still daggering at you, cozying up with the guards and laughing with them as he supposed you did every night when he didn't request you. The only thing he allowed you to leave for was your rituals; sometimes, they lasted all night. It made him wonder if you were fucking his men behind his back.

A long silence passed, with only the faint echo of your laugh heard. It graded against his eardrums, hearing that another man had captured your attention, let alone make you smile.

"I wish to remind you that Y/N is a smart woman. I would not want you to do anything in haste."

"As if I don't know that!" Sukuna snapped, "she belongs to me, after all."

Shaking their head, Uraume sighed. "My Lord—"

"I am aware," Sukuna interrupted. If anyone knew the truth, it was Uraume. You treated them with extra care, feeding them bits and pieces of your predicament in hopes they would reveal them to Sukuna when necessary. You weren't just playing with Uraume, though. You considered them a friend. Probably your only friend in the palace. They knew that deep within their heart, which is why they bothered to defend you. Seeing your face every day made the palace more lively. Did Sukuna even realize all that you sacrificed for him?

"That wench of a Supreme tricked me into a binding vow."

Tricked was a strong word. Nobody could really trick the King of Curses. Uraume knew it was his way of admitting he was weak at that moment. Meeting you for the first time, which even Uraume could admit you looked divine, ravishing, unlike any woman they'd seen before—that spectacle was what led to this entire mess. Sukuna was the one who allowed your behavior to continue. He wasn't tricked. He just wanted the chase and the power. He wanted you from the moment he saw you and was too arrogant to admit it.

There was no way Sukuna could ever love somebody, right? It all finally made sense to Uraume at that moment. Based on your own admission, based on the fact that he hadn't taken one of his concubines to bed in months, growing more frustrated with each day that passed, only craving a presence he couldn't obtain.

"Are you…" Uraume chose their words carefully. Sukuna was clearly jealous, but it was your job to say that word, not them. "...Considering to follow through?"

His crimson eyes narrowed. "It has crossed my mind," he finally admitted. "But I won't be tricked by that she-demon again."

"I speculate that if Y/N wanted to deceive you, she would have done so already."

Sukuna let Uraume’s advice pervade. He imagined every possibility for trickery on your part but came up with nothing. You were waiting for him, not the other way around. You were already bound to him, the contract only in limbo because you witches were just as power-hungry as him and incredibly selective. They would not allow a woman from their coven to bear children with a man who also produced bastards. The magic would cease to work for that purpose alone. And that was a sacrifice you wouldn't make, even for him. Even if he was a king, even if he was a curse, the coven always played the long game. As they've done for centuries and would do again.

"Demand that she visit my chambers when she's done being a harlot," Sukuna spat, turning his back on them and deciding to leave.

"Sukuna-Sama," Uraume warned, glancing back to the palace gates, where you still chummed with the guards. "Are you sure?"

Sukuna waved his hand. "My mind is made."

They stared at their lord as he walked away, acting as if he wasn't bothered by the revelation, acting as if he didn't just spare you and his men from certain death. That was when Uraume recognized Sukuna's true feelings for you.

However twisted they might be.

An hour later, the kitchen door swung open, presenting you in a seductive, revealing dress. Whether Sukuna noticed or not, you always wore your best garments on nights when the moon was absent.

Hunger twisted in your stomach as you realized how late it was and how long you'd gone without a meal. All you wanted was to steal a few snacks without anyone noticing before retreating to your chambers.

But, for once at this hour, Uraume was chopping away at a slab of meat, some already cooking in a stew on the firewood stove. It smelled delicious, and you sighed blissfully. They would be the last person to mind if you stole a few bites, as you often did, complimenting them with a smile on your face before disappearing again.

"Sukuna requests you visit his chambers," Uraume said, their tone leaving no room for debate. They didn't even turn around to greet you. No excitement to see you, no friendliness in their tone. It made you pause.

"Is it a request or is it a demand?" you asked, covering your worry with a displeased smirk, rounding the stone countertop to see precisely what Uraume was preparing. It looked delicious, and your stomach grumbled with comedic timing.

Uraume finally glanced at you, knowing that you were beside them. "I would suggest going to see him now." They nodded to the elaborately prepared tray beside them. You watched as they spooned a bowl full of cooked meat, steam billowing into the air. "He's already waited an hour."

"Before he gets angrier?" you asked, plucking some food into your mouth. Once you swallowed, you grabbed the tray in both your hands. "Does he ever feel another way?"

Only a slight crack in the corner of Uraume's lips signaled they weren't sending you to your death. Their eyes were serious. Even if you were their friend, Sukuna was still their King.

"He was boiling when he saw you fraternizing with the castle guard," Uraume said, refusing to reveal anything else. "Have you no shame, Y/N?"

You quirked an eyebrow, unable to hide your surprise. "What else am I to do to pass the time?"

"You are bound to him, Y/N, don't forget your place. Sukuna-Sama has been generous enough. He can still kill you if he pleased."

"Generous is a bit theatrical," you huffed, parting from Uraume after one last smile. "But thank you," you added, nodding to the food. Whatever conversation you were about to have with Sukuna might be softened once he saw that you were fetching his meal.

The castle halls were eerily empty and quiet. There were never many people around, but it had never felt this dreadful to you before. All you could hear was the sound of your own sandals scuffing against the rug as you approached his chamber.

The sound of your pattering knuckles filled the silence, and you quickly slid the door open and entered before receiving a reply.

Sukuna's back was to you, his fingers grasping the balcony's edge. He didn't turn around when he heard you enter the room, but he tensed slightly. "Did I give you permission to enter my chambers?" he said curtly, his voice laced with annoyance.

"You had requested me," you replied just as harshly. "Where have you been all night?"

"None of your concern," he said, tone cold and final.

There was an agonizing minute of silence that passed. He didn't turn around to look at you, still avoiding having to look you in the eyes. Once he did, he wondered if he could resist the temptation. From afar, he saw what you were wearing. If he had to see it up close… an almost identical dress on the day he first met you.

"Are you going to stand there staring at my back?" he asked irritably, still not bothering to turn around.

"If you want to be alone, so be it," you snapped, turning around and heading for the door. "I'll leave your meal on the table and thank Uraume for you."

He turned around quickly, a scowl on his face. "You defy the simplest of orders and instructions," Sukuna muttered under his breath, his annoyance vanishing once he glimpsed the very body he was trying to resist. That damn dress. It was far too revealing. All that was missing was a crown. What a seductress you were, almost bringing the King of Curses to his knees at the very sight of you.

He was clearly upset. Provoked that even though you purposely annoyed him, hardly followed his orders, and kept yourself and your body off limits to his desires— he always sought you out. "Come here," he ordered savagely, his hungry eyes locking with yours.

You knew when he was angry, as he usually always was. But the look in his eyes was different tonight. Was it sadness? Was it jealousy? Obeying his request, you left the food inside and walked onto the balcony. You were grateful for Uraume's hint, leading you to approach him more cautiously.

The two of you often played board games out there when the weather was nice. Go was your favorite, and Sukuna still had yet to beat you. Perhaps he relented because he couldn't have sex with you all night, and it was the only way you'd spend time with him alone. Go was maybe the one thing you'd mastered besides magic.

A part of you wondered if that's what he wanted, too. It had been about a week since the last time you challenged him. You watched him sit down before asking, "Would you care to play a game to release some stress, my Lord?" You added the honorific with the raise of your brows, suspecting you might actually be walking on a thin, thin line with him already.

"I don't want to play games, witch," he grumbled impatiently, his scowl deepening at your sudden prudence. He much preferred the attitude that kept him on his toes. "Sit down," he incited, hand pointing to the spot next to him on the sofa.

The wind was blowing briskly, making the trees surrounding the palace sway and rustle softly. The atmosphere was tense, almost dangerous, the air seeming to crackle with electricity.

"It's a beautiful night," you said, watching the branches tangle around each other in the breeze. The stars were shining bright in the absence of the moon. As you finally sat beside Sukuna, you turned to look at him. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"

"Would it not be easier to use your magic to root through my mind instead?" he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. What a ludicrous answer.

There was a momentary silence. It was tense and heavy. The only sound that could be heard was the rustling of the trees.

"What fun is there in that?" you sighed, the tease in your tone fading away with the wind. For once, you didn't come there to defy or disrespect him. For the first time, you came for comfort, to know him better. Yes, you enjoyed your life at the palace. You knew your place, but it wasn't to just be his concubine. What you really wanted was to be his Queen. But Sukuna was cruel, heartless, and malevolent. Rarely, almost never, did fragments of his true self emerge.

"A strong powerful man like you should be able to express what you're feeling."

"I'm in no mood for fun," he said curtly, his expression remaining cold.

Another pause, the tension in the air so dense it felt like he was physically curling his hands around your throat.

Until finally, he heaved a frustrated sigh. "I want you to be honest with me." There was no reason for him to struggle this much with the thoughts swirling in his mind, but being in your presence often did that to him. Sharing his power was something he never wanted to do. He never expected any woman to even stand remotely close to his level of wickedness and hunger for domination. "Did you reject my proposal because of the coven or because of your wishes?"

"What proposal?" you tilted your head, confused. His red eyes burned with emotions you didn't expect him to be capable of.

"My proposal to you as my concubine," he said, tone hardening.

There was a pause; the wind rustled the trees gently and seemed to echo his words. Your reply was absent, which frustrated Sukuna further. He was growing impatient, watching as your lips parted and your eyebrows furrowed. "Why must you refuse to be just a concubine?" he asked.

"I lust for power just as you do, Sukuna, it is what is required of me," you sighed. "I cannot just be a concubine. I will not descend to the level of those lowly, moronic, women you keep around for no other reason than your twisted pleasure. They cannot give you the heir you need. To them, the title of concubine is an honor, but to me, it is an insult," you said with a bitter tone before glancing away and looking back up at the sky. Sukuna only knew pieces of your bloodline, your coven, and what the spell cast on you entailed. "And I'm not fond of sharing," a displeased, tight smile cracked across your face, hoping he wouldn't pry further.

Sukuna narrowed his eyes and reached out to grasp your chin, turning your head so that you were facing him again. His expression was cold, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, almost a hint of tenderness.

"Are you saying you no longer wish me to bed other women?" he asked in a low, menacing tone, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

Once he released your chin, you nodded but kept your gaze glued to his. "The thought of your hands on another woman, your body against anyone's but mine makes me..." you trailed off, not wanting to overstep. You loved teasing him. You loved that you had power over the other concubines. But your defiance came from the desperation of your situation. To be handed off to the King of curses like you were nothing but a prized cattle, forced to watch as he took his other concubines to bed, enraged you. The Supreme had tricked him, leaving it up to you to convince the most evil man in the country that you deserved respect. The most rigorous challenge of all.

Sukuna paused for a moment, considering what you just said. He then leaned close to you, his forehead almost touching yours as his crimson eyes studied your expression intently.

"There's another reason, is there not?" he said in a low voice, his words almost like a whisper. Then Sukuna smirked wickedly, his eyes gleaming with amusement as if it finally made sense to him. "Do you envy them, Y/N?" he teased, his hand reaching your waist, grasping it, and pulling you onto his lap.

You let him encircle his arms around you. It didn't matter if Sukuna was enjoying your torment. This was precisely what you expected. "It's not envy, Sukuna." you rolled your eyes, eyes flickering down to his smirk. His arms slipped around your waist tighter, causing a breathy sigh to leave your lips. The temptation was unbearable. That's why you never sat on his lap until now. Possessiveness glistened in your eyes, nostrils flaring slightly. "It makes me sick to my stomach to see you with those whores."

Sukuna's smirk grew wider as he heard your response, his eyes filled with amusement and desire. "Then prove your worthiness," he dared in a low, seductive growl that sent shivers down your spine. "Prove to me that you deserve to be my queen," he continued, his hand going further down, his fingers slipping under your dress, gripping your inner thigh.

Just from that intimate touch underneath your clothes, your body felt like it was on fire. You wanted more so desperately, which was the cruelest curse of all. You should have slapped his hand away, but something within you yearned for him vehemently. His fingers crept closer to your pulsing core, and you couldn't pull away. For months, all you had craved was his attention.

"Sukuna-" you warned, willing to explain it all to him, but was caught off guard when he bit down on the delicate skin of your neck. He sucked the spot roughly, his other hand creeping under your dress and to your thigh.

"Y/N..." he murmured, his mouth still lingering on the spot, the sound of his voice low and filled with passion. Sukuna's fingers moved higher, brushing against your heat, grinning against your skin as he felt your shiver. He could easily seduce you; he was sure of it, but that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to see you beg for him to take you to bed, and that wouldn't be easy. He wanted you to be willing and eager. He wanted you to give yourself to him.

"Sukuna...I am not..." you began to protest, your words caught in your throat as his hands pried between your thighs, forcing your legs open wider, teasing your entrance with his fingertips.

Fuck. That was what your mind screamed at his touch. You had been so determined to beat him with twisted power plays, only to care for him in a different way than just the empowerment of your coven through an heir. You thought it would take much more convincing for Sukuna to agree to your demands and understand the repercussions. But he was worshipping your body instead, enticing you to join him in hell.

Your yearning for him panged so harshly that it came in a sudden wave from your stomach to your core—etching a gasp from your lips.

"Are you always this exposed underneath such revealing dresses?" he chuckled once he found you weren't wearing undergarments, pressing a finger against your clit. Jolts of electricity shot through your body, and you let out a fervid whimper. Did he know what he was getting into? Was he really considering making you his Queen? It would happen soon enough, though, for the second he impregnated you, the spell would annul every other possible heir if he didn't accept you as his only.

Once his finger started to swirl in circles, you knew it was over. Your body was begging for him, begging for release. The allure of it all made your explanation die in your throat, and all you could choke out was, "If you take me tonight, I want all the other concubines dead."

Sukuna chuckled wickedly at your words, the sound resonating deep in his chest and vibrating against your skin.

"Is that so?" he replied, inserting a digit inside your eager, desperate pussy. "How bold of you to give me orders, Y/N." He grinned, red eyes glinting with lust and satisfaction. "Will you deal the finishing blow?" he murmured teasingly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, before he pushed another finger inside.

"Y-yes," you nodded, stuttering, eyes flickering down to the position he finally had you in across his lap. Your ruffled dress almost pushed up to your waist; legs spread, flush against his growing length as his hands teased your cunt.

Another gasp escaped you as he began to pump his fingers, his other hand gripping your waist and forcing you to stay still. "You want me...all to yourself?" he murmured in your ear.

"Need you to myself," you whimpered, finally giving in to the temptation.

"Need me to yourself..." he mimicked seductively, his words filled with desire. He could sense your restraint waning, your body trembling in his grasp. "You need me." He continued pumping harder, his hot breath fanning across your neck. "To be all yours..." he whispered, his own voice filling with desperation and passion.

But then, Sukuna suddenly paused. He withdrew his hands and leaned back into the sofa. He needed a second to process what was happening. How frustrating it was to be under your spell. It hardly took anything for you to seduce him; he was all over you, getting off on your pleasure and not his. It was strange how willing he was to submit to your desires. Was it some sort of trick?

"What?" you whimpered at his withdrawal, opening your eyes to gaze at him. Without his touch, you felt cold. Shifting around in his lap, you faced him.

"Prove your love for me, Y/N," he demanded, his eyes intense as he stared at you, the weight of his request hanging heavy between the two of you. "Tell me," he added, leaning forward to gently take your lips with his. Your eyes widened, but you kissed him back, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself, the need for all of him panging deeper. "How far are you willing to go to show me your devotion?" he pulled away to breathe, hot breath caressing your face.

Love…devotion… Have you not already proved it?

"Anything," you whispered against his lips, grasping his wrists and moving them to the back of your gown. Once he loosened the knot, your dress fell around your shoulders. You tugged the lace down yourself, revealing your breasts to him for the first time. "My power will be yours to wield."

Sukuna's eyes burned as they drank in your body. How perfect you were, the right amount of beauty and insanity. He admired you in silence, eyes studying the perk of your breasts before his expression turned more serious. One more question, and he would take you. Only if you answered right, though.

"I will need you to give your blood and body to me, an offering that permanently binds your life to mine," he said, a chill settling over the air. You had already begged, and now he wanted you to prove your loyalty.

"Are you willing to pay that price?" he asked before his mouth pressed gently against your collarbone, then down to the middle of your breasts. Once he lifted his head, he searched your eyes for any hint of hesitation. Just a pause of uncertainty from him made you smile, revealing that he actually cared, that he was solemn and somewhat apprehensive.

But, you had none, already understanding this action would be forever, for eternity, transcending time and any powers you could comprehend. Powers that had yet to even manifest.

You were willing, you were eager.

"I thought it was given." You stared deeply into his eyes. "I am no stranger to binding vows, my King."

Sukuna nodded, a small smile forming on his face. "Very well then, Y/N," he said, his voice low and firm. "It's settled. From this day forward, you'll be my Queen and I'll be your King. Nobody else will dare to defy your wishes except me," he concluded with finality, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours, all four of his hands coming to cup your cheeks. Your heart swelled with pride as he revealed his true form to you.

In acceptance, you kissed him harshly before reaching up to pull out the hairpin he gifted you the first day you arrived at the palace. With your hair cascading down your bare shoulders, you revealed the hidden blade inside and swiped it across your finger. "My life is yours, Sukuna," you promised.

Sukuna watched as a small cut appeared on your finger, blood welling up quickly at the shallow wound. He grasped your hand, bringing your finger to his lips and running his tongue along the edge of the cut. Then he placed your finger in his mouth, sucking on it lightly, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin, tasting the metallic tang of your blood.

When the cut had closed, Sukuna pulled your finger out of his mouth, his crimson eyes fixed on yours. "All mine," he whispered, his voice low and sultry.

Taking the hairpin from you, he swiped over his own thumb, deeper than you had. Your eyes were wide in astonishment as he pushed his bleeding thumb into your mouth, sealing the bond he requested. You sucked, eyelashes fluttering, waiting until the cut closed.

The King of Curses was now yours, completely.

"Now, you can have me any way you'd like," you whispered, eyes darkening with lust and excitement. "And afterward, we can go on a killing spree."

A fervent need flared in his eyes as you spoke, your voice dripping with desire. "You are a dangerous woman, my future Queen," he murmured, his voice gravelly as he stared down at you, a smirk playing on his lips. But it was clear that he was just as aroused as you were, his body tense with need. "I cannot say no to you when you look at me like that."

In the next breath, Sukuna was all over you. His mouth latched onto your breast while the other pinched your nipple. All you could do was hold his face in your hands, moaning as you watched him prepare your body for his length. Desire pooled lower and lower in your abdomen, and all you could do was sway your hips for release, remembering what his fingers felt like inside of you.

"Can't wait any longer," Sukuna grunted, swirling his tongue across your chest and up the side of your neck before taking your lips with his once again. The kiss was deep, and his tongue dominated your mouth, claiming it without protest. Breaking away for air, a strand of saliva connected your lips to his, the heat and desperation of your emotions were overwhelmingly noticeable.

"Why don't you just ride me now," he ripped your dress off in a swift movement, etching a gasp from you. "Since you're so desperate for my cock."

"Y-Yes, Sukuna." Your voice shook from the trepidation and pact you made with him. It was as if you sensed the change, felt your bond to him solidify. Wobbly, you stood up from his lap as he pulled his pants off, kicking them down to his ankles. He was bigger than you imagined, so long and thick that you wondered if you could even take him. But, you were determined, you needed him, craved him, and now you were forever his.

Sukuna watched your eyes widen as his cock sprang free. All he could do was smirk, especially when he could smell your arousal. "You can take it, Y/N," he encouraged. "You have to take it now."

You were engorged, dripping, swollen, all for him—from the thought of consummating your pact to him on the balcony, hopefully where everyone could hear you cry his name. He was unable to take his eyes off you as you sat back down on his lap, positioning his cock at your entrance.

A whimper of elation escaped your lips as you sat upon him, slowly, letting yourself sink down on his throbbing cock, feeling the length stretch your walls until it was impossible to go further. Watching you struggle against him made him grunt with satisfaction. Your pussy felt too good, a prize he'd been pining over for months. The best he ever had and will only have from that night onward.

Taking your time, your entire body erupted with pleasure as you began to bounce on his cock. It was vivifying; every whimper you let out only fueled his desire further. Your pussy was pulsing erratically, so wet and welcoming for him, but you weren't going fast enough. What Sukuna really wanted to do was fuck you senseless, claim each and every inch of your body. After all, you had made him wait long enough.

A low, possessive growl rumbled from his chest as he stood up from the sofa, gathering you in his arms with his cock still sheathed inside you. He brought you inside but left the door open, laying you down on the futon. Sukuna let you adjust to the position, let you squeeze against his cock, humming as your legs wrapped around his waist. "Tell me who you belong to," he demanded, staring down at you with a feral gleam in his crimson eyes.

Nodding obediently, you whimpered, "You, Master." Hardly able to reply before he pulled his cock all the way out and then slammed it back in, burying himself deep inside your pussy, a groan of ecstasy leaving his lips at the way your walls coddled him so tightly, so perfectly, like you were made just for him.

Crying out, you were a stuttering mess as he pounded into you over and over again, to the point where you swore you could see stars. Sukuna was huge, fucking you until your moans were mixing with his, the sound of your pussy squelching, taking him fully until he was balls deep, causing a devilish grin to spread across his face.

He was consuming you, feeling his cock twitch inside of you as he glimpsed your breasts bouncing wildly underneath him. You felt too good, heavenly, the best he'd ever had.

"M-Master!" you cried, climbing higher and higher, your walls constricting, building. "I can't take it—ah—yes!" you choked out, unable to control yourself from the relentless pace, causing you to orgasm all over his unyielding cock.

He smirked, satisfied at how quickly he could make you unravel. "How am I making you feel?" He asked, not slowing his pace or relenting, helping you ride out your high before he was going to throw you into another body-shaking orgasm.

"Euphoric," you sobbed, tears clouding your vision, the sound of his skin slapping against your now-drenched pussy causing blood to pound louder in your ears. You could barely breathe, completely cock drunk and fucked-out.

"Since you have arrived, you wanted this, didn't you?" Sukuna grunted, glimpsing the look of intoxication on your face. "I wanted to fill you up until you cry, you wretched creature."

His sensuality was music to your ears, and all you could do was moan, nodding with parted lips, body rocking back and forth against his relentless pace.

Your beauty enraptured Sukuna. How well and eager you took his length. "M'gonna breed you until you can't speak with that wicked tongue, forcing me to wait all this time to claim you."

"Please S-Kuna, please," you whimpered, grasping onto his arms that caged you underneath him for support. You were unraveling in his grip, and he couldn't be more satisfied. "It's too much!"

"Take it," he groaned an order, ramming into you over and over again. Your back arched against the bed as Sukuna hoisted your legs up higher around his waist, your ass cupped in both of his hands, thrusting right into your already inflamed g-spot.

All you could feel was him; all you could think about was him. Opening your eyes, you saw his eyes narrowed, determination in his expression. He looked so handsome above you, focused on ruining your body for his pleasure. He was finally all yours. And the memory of it caused the pressure in your abdomen to tighten once again.

“Fuck-oh-Sukuna!” Another cry was loudly called into the night, as you came again. It was hard. Violent. Sukuna watched as your entire body shuddered, your legs trembling as you squirted against him. You couldn't stop it; you couldn't stop your moans.

At your quick and vocal release, Sukuna found himself unable to breathe, unable to even mutter a word as he plunged into euphoria, releasing his load into your sanctified cunt just seconds after you finished for the second time.

Panting heavily, your legs dropped from his waist. You gazed up at your forever lover with rapture in your eyes, satisfaction pulling at your lips. When he pulled out, his load started to leak from your core.

He simpered, admiring how beautiful you were like this, a smile on your face, skin glistening with sweat, his cum painting your pussy alabaster.

Some of it started to leak out, but Sukuna would not let it go to waste. He leaned down to your pussy, flicking his tongue out to force it back inside, holding it until you were shaking again.

Once he was satisfied, he lifted his head between your legs, chin resting against your abdomen. The part of you that panged for his attention every night for eternity, that yearned every second to be like this, to see him so submissive between your thighs.

What mattered was his promise, an utterance that had no bounds, not even blood. No amount of sorcery could stop either of you. "I'm gonna breed you like that every night until your belly is swollen with my heir."

That promise you knew he intended to keep, until the bounds of death were unshackled, and you came face to face with infinity.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #sukuna #ryomen sukuna

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 6 months ago

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by Lincoln Brown

Beckett Law, a religious freedom advocacy group, has taken up the cause of three Jewish students at UCLA. The students claim that in the wake of the October 7 terrorist attack on Israel, they faced mounting antisemitism, which included barring them from access to areas of the campus. The students are also represented by Clement & Murphy, PLLC.

In the lawsuit, Frankel v. The Regents of the University of California, the plaintiffs claim that pro-Hamas/anti-Israel protesters set up barricades on the Los Angeles campus, effectively creating a "Jewish Exclusion Zone." Beckett Law states that after creating the encampment, protesters not only constructed barriers but also linked arms to prevent Jewish students from accessing the most popular areas on campus. They also imposed an ideological test, and those whose views were deemed to be sufficiently anti-Israel were issued wristbands and allowed to pass unmolested through the "checkpoints."

By contrast, Beckett law says that Jewish students were harassed and even assaulted. Law student Yitzchok Frankel was forced to find other ways to reach his classes because his route was blocked by the exclusion zone. Sophomore Joshua Ghayoum could not attend classes or study sessions because of the zone and the antisemitic activities on campus. Additionally, he was forced to listen to chants of "death to the Jews" and "death to Israel." Eden Shemuelian had trouble getting to her final exams because of the zones and had to listen to the vitriol from the encampment as she tried to study. These, said Beckett Law, are just three examples of the problems faced by Jewish students at UCLA.

Mark Rienzi, president and CEO of Becket, stated:

If masked agitators had excluded any other marginalized group at UCLA, Governor Newsom rightly would have sent in the National Guard immediately. But UCLA instead caved to the anti-Semitic activists and allowed its Jewish students to be segregated from the heart of their own campus. That is a profound and illegal failure of leadership. This is America in 2024—not Germany in 1939. It is disgusting that an elite American university would let itself devolve into a hotbed of antisemitism. UCLA’s administration should have to answer for allowing the Jew Exclusion Zone and promise that Jews will never again be segregated on campus.

The suit notes:

Defendants have deprived Plaintiffs of the free exercise and enjoyment of religion without discrimination or preference, as secured by the California Constitution, through a policy and practice that treats Plaintiffs differently than similarly situated non-Jewish individuals because Plaintiffs are Jewish.

Defendants furthered no legitimate or compelling state interest by engaging in this conduct.

Defendants failed to tailor their actions narrowly to serve any such interest.

As a result of Defendants’ actions, Plaintiffs have been injured by losing access to educational opportunities, losing access to library and classroom facilities, losing in-person learning opportunities, losing the ability to prepare for exams, being denied equal participation in the life of the university, suffering emotional and physical stress that has diverted time, attention, and focus from study, and by other harms.

In addition to seeking compensation for damages, the primary goal of the lawsuit is to hold the leadership of the University of California accountable and ensure that such a situation never arises again.

As usual, "never again" is here and now. The fact that these "students" take a great deal of pride in slinging the term "Nazi" at anyone with which they disagree yet use tactics that echo those of the Third Reich is ironic and chilling. But their savage nature can be attributed, at least in part, to those who educated them.

Given that, one must ask if the regents of the University of California were merely caving to mob pressure. Did they turn a blind eye to the madness out of fear or because of the optics? Ideally, there should be nothing wrong with discussing the war and even debating whether or not Israel's response to the Hamas attack has been proportionate.

The regents, president, vice-president, and chancellors never stopped to think, "Gee, it seems to be getting awfully brownshirty around here." And if they did, they were too cowardly or indoctrinated to say a word.

#ucla #jewish students #lawsuit #antisemitism

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elierlick · 6 months ago

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What’s the real story behind “outside agitators?” Joe Biden, the NYPD, and others have been slandering anti-genocide activists with the phrase since protests began in 2023. I did a deep dive into its history via news and book archives. The term is actually much older than you might think.

The concept of "outside agitators" gained prominence to defend slavery during the Bleeding Kansas conflict of the 1850s. The fight broke out over whether to admit Kansas as a free or slave state. White supremacists claimed abolitionists were “outside agitators” and “anti-slavery squatters” (see the 3rd image). After the North won the Civil War, racist Southerners then accused progressive “outside agitators” of “deluding” the newly freed Black population into believing they were equal to whites (4th image).

The term spiked again in the early 1900s during the fights for suffrage and unions (5th-6th images). Unionists found the accusation ridiculous. Working people don’t need to be union members to participate in supporting them!

The term gained prominence again in the 1960s to defend segregation, reaching a peak in 1969. It became so prevalent that the left began to make fun of Southerners using it so often (7th image). Devout racists, including President Truman and Alabama Governor John Patterson, even called the most respectable protesters “outside agitators.”

When my friends and I were called “outside agitators” at Columbia by our mayor Eric Adams, he wasn’t entirely wrong. We weren’t students and we were there to agitate as Jews for Palestinian liberation. We are invested in our communities and want institutions in our city to reject genocide. Is that a morally harmful position to take? Or is it necessary to ensure disclosure, divestment, and amnesty for students?

They call us "outside agitators" because they know we will win. And after the dust settles, even the most milquetoast liberals will tease those declaring protesters "paid," "ignorant," or "dishonest." It wasn't outside agitators who won suffrage, unions, or healthcare, after all. It was the people.

#gaza #palestine #act up #activism

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djuvlipen · 4 months ago

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Hey

I know there are many, many things happening in the world right now and there is only so much time, energy and money people can invest in social justice but with the advance of fascism in Europe - 84 fascists from 12 different countries were elected to the European Parliament this year - and with the news of a 15yo Romani teenager dying during a police confrontation in England last week, I have compiled a list of different human rights organizations dedicated to helping Romani people in Europe.

Please donate if you can!

💙❤️💚🦔💙❤️💚🦔💙❤️💚🦔💙❤️💚🦔💙❤️💚🦔💙❤️

🇪🇺 Roma Education Fund

The Roma Education Fund (REF) is an international foundation established in 2005 and dedicated to closing the gap in educational outcomes between Roma and non-Roma. With an active and growing network of representative offices across Central, Eastern, South Eastern Europe and Turkey, REF provides grants and scholarships to entities and individuals who share its belief in quality, inclusive education and desegregated schools and classrooms. The Roma Education Fund is active in countries such as: Hungary, Montenegro, Romania, Serbia, Slovakia, Switzerland, Albania, Croatia, North Macedonia, Turkey, Bulgaria, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Kosovo and Russia.

🇪🇺 European Roma Grassroots Organization (ERGO)

ERGO Network mobilizes and connects grassroots, national and international organisations and individuals who share a set of core values to create the courage, capacity and opportunities to combat antigypsyism and Roma poverty; strengthen Roma civil society participation in decision-making at grassroots, national and European level and commit governments and European institutions to effective social inclusion and anti-discrimination policies, standards and funds for Roma.

🇪🇺 European Roma Rights Center (ERRC)

The ERRC is the largest transnational Romani rights organization in Europe. They provide judicial and financial help to Romani people facing poverty, police brutality and racist violence all across Europe

🇷🇴 Resource Center for Roma Communities Foundation (RCRC)

The operational activity of RCRC includes training programs, consultancy and comprehensive community development in Roma communities. The grantmaking activity of RCRC has involved managing grants and scholarship programs, including the administration of the European Union’s and EAA grants programs focused on health, vocational training, small infrastructure and income generating activities.

🇨🇿 Cesta Von

Cesta von (This Way Out) organization is based in Slovakia. Their Omama program works with the very youngest Romani children in particular. Their aim is a big and important one – extricating the inhabitants of the segregated settlements from the vicious circle of intergenerational poverty. The program targets the development of the intellect, motor skills and social skills in an attempt to increase the chances of children from socially excluded localities at living better adult lives. One of the main conditions for choosing the Omamas is that they must be Romani women who know the excluded locality well (source).

🇪🇸 La Fundación Secretariado Gitano (FSG)

The FSG develops all kinds of actions that contribute to achieving the full citizenship of Roma persons, improving their living conditions, promoting equal treatment and preventing all forms of discrimination, as well as promoting the recognition of the cultural identity of the Roma community.

🇪🇸 La Asociación Nacional Presencia Gitana

Presencia Gitana is dedicated to confronting and correcting negative opinions about Spanish Romani people. They promote all kinds of initiatives and projects to ensure that Spanish Romani people's basic needs and fundamental rights are met and guaranteed, work to promoting Romani culture and advocate for the providing of historical reparation for Spanish Romani people.

🇫🇷 ANGVC

The ANGVC (association nationale gens du voyage citoyens) is a French Romani-led organization whose goal is to fight anti-Romani racism and to improve the living conditions of French Romani people and travellers. They provide judicial help to Romani people victims of environmental racism and police brutality, organize workshops to raise awareness about anti-Romani racism and are now leading a project dedicated to educate people about the Romani genocide, which still hasn't been recognized by France.

🇬🇧 Roma Support Group

The Roma Support Group offers free advice for Roma communities on financial inclusion, debt, welfare benefits and housing. They promote Romani arts and culture, fight for the improvement of mental health within the Romani community and helps Romani people victims of racism.

🇬🇧 Romano Lav

Romano Lav is a grassroots Roma community organisation based in Govanhill, Glasgow. They organize youth-led events including artistic and cultural performances, workshops, exhibitions and educational events.

🇬🇧 Luton Roma Trust

The Luton Roma Trust provides advice to British Romani people about housing, employment and education, helps them find jobs and accessing healthcare.

💙❤️💚🦔💙❤️💚🦔💙❤️💚🦔💙❤️💚🦔💙❤️💚🦔💙❤️

#i'll keep this updated as i find more #roma #romani

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yandere-kokeshi · 10 months ago

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What about Yandere! Dad Price 🤔

Warnings: yandere behavior and everything platonic. Nothing romantic.

A/N: ohh boy, you just gave me an ultra writing spree. Enjoy!!

You have him wrapped around your finger. You could ask anything, and Dad! Price would give it to you within seconds. He values everything about you, including your opinions and support. He wants your input of things, or at least when you can.

John is a Mufasa type of dad. Incredibly protective, only wants the best for you, and lets you have some type of independence. In honest aspects, he’s considerably chill regarding his dark behavior, or at least appears to be. Yet, the second something seems off, he’s pulling you behind him with his thick words, urging you to get to the truck.

He has no desire to have another s/o. He’s not risking it with someone else who can easily come into the family and could sabotage the bond between you two. Plus, he prefers raising you on his own.

Your phone is wired with trackers — a green dot, glowing frantically on John’s phone, easily telling him your location. And by chance when you find out, it’s easy to cover it up, reminding you that his job is dangerous, and all he wants is safety for you.

Would’ve homeschooled you, but with the large percentage of depression and antisocial risks, he decided against it. And because of it, you have many perks as being the kid of a famous military Captain, which means everyone respects you; including the school district. Despite his rank, he doesn’t use it unless necessary, wanting people to naturally respect you and him.

With school, Dad! Price participates a lot. He often picks you up from school, taking you out for ice-cream on Friday’s. Makes you delicious home-made lunch when he can (including leaving notes), and does whatever he can to help decrease your worry. Doing homework with him is rather nice, he explains it in multiple ways to ensure you understand it; definitely the type to do flash-cards, and gives you candy if you guess them correctly.

It comes with no surprise that you have a lot of fun uncles, and two awesome aunts. The team equally place themselves as your extended-family, visiting when they can, and adoring you. Laswell frequently visits, not only to see your father, but also to take you out when you need a break.

Undoubtedly the type to have a ‘no cussing jar’ in the house. However, the rules mostly apply to you. However, he does cuss — grumbling out when he gets caught before throwing cash into the clear jar. Either way, he uses the cash to spoil you.

Calls you a few cliché nicknames instead of using your name; only using it when you’re in trouble of sorts. He usually rests on calling you little one, kiddo, scout, and bubs.

Dad! Price never smokes cigars around you, and hides them out of reach. He doesn’t want you to seek them out, because 1) they’re bad for you. And 2) he wants you to be better than he can be. He only smokes out on the porch, and hates when you are present.

Makes the best barbecue and smoked foods that you could imagine.

It’s no surprise that Dad! Price teaches you a lot of self-defense and about your surroundings. Reminding you to take a taser, or pepper-spray when you leave the house. He knows that you’re protected, him and the others are highly trained SAS soldiers ready to pounce on any threat. But, having you know things — especially if he’s training you himself — lets his paranoia rest a bit.

Despite his large leeway with you, he’s pretty strict about school. John wants you to be good, and expects you to follow the rules. If he notices your grades dropping, he asks what’s up and how he can help; giving you the ‘dad-look’ when you don’t do assignments.

However, it’s easily noticed that he hates homework — you’re working at school for 8+ hours, pretty much exhausted when you get home, and they expect you to finish these long pages at your comfort zone? Not on his watch.

Rarely brings you to the base, but when he’s missing his kiddo, he’s fetching you from home and brings you to foot. His office is large, enough space to place a pull-out couch, which is made for you. He lets you sleep whilst he works, having calls with many, and carries you back to the truck when he’s done.

John is strict about rules in the house, and doesn’t listen to any excuses or give you leeway when you break them; it’s easy to follow, and you know the consequences.

One of the rare things he actively allows is potential partners. He rarely threatens them — and he doesn’t need to. He’s a Captain, a man who is unafraid to show his strength. So, in a quick sense, nobody would be stupid enough to try to hurt you, right?

And if they do, we all know what will happen. And it’s certainly not a pretty sight.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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pharawee · 4 months ago

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If you are in Thailand or following Thai politics you probably already know that today Thailand's Constitutional Court has ruled to dissolve the Move Forward Party for "attempting to overthrow the Thai political system", barring current leader Chaithawat Tulathon and former leader Pita Limjaroenrat from participating in politics for the next ten years. [source]

This is, of course, some major bullshit (but what else is new). Move Forward is responsible for pushing for many if not most progressive policies in Thailand, including marriage equality. This is the party that won the 2023 general elections and, although not part of the current government (which is also bullshit), it's currently the biggest parliamentary party.

Move Forward's remaining MPs have already announced that they will join a new party and continue in their efforts for democracy and reform in Thailand. This is what Move Forward MP Rangsiman Rome has to say (you can find his original tweet here - I'm only providing a somewhat clunky English translation because I think it's such a powerful and important message):

[No matter what the name of our new party will be, in 2027, the whole country will be orange.] Throughout the time from Future Forward Party to Move Forward Party, we have pushed for progressive agendas for the public, including advocating for the abolition of military conscription, marriage equality, a new constitution, as well as policies to promote freedom and protect human rights through various party policies. However, we have faced severe accusations such as overthrowing the government and subversion, culminating in today's Constitutional Court decision to "dissolve the Move Forward Party." In a democracy, each political party has a set of values, ideologies, and the hopes and dreams of the people who choose that party, conveyed through policy creation and implementation as the people desire. We affirm that the only acceptable way to dismantle a political party is through the verdict of the people in the election booth, according to democratic principles. The legal warfare process of dissolving a party erodes public confidence in democracy and does not strengthen democracy in Thailand. If we persist in pretending that the process of party dissolution, which is disconnected from the people, is normal, it will continually destroy the dreams of the people. This implies that if a group of people with similar dreams and ideas come together to form a political party and propose policies to the public but differ from the state or the elite, they will be destroyed mercilessly, right? We must affirm that the policies of the Move Forward Party are what society needs. We must affirm that what the Move Forward Party has done to solve problems is what Thai people need, whether it is exposing the patronage system, human rights violations, corruption, or various progressive policies. These are what Thailand needs, and we affirm that we, as citizens, will be the ones to fan the winds of change. We will ensure that the Move Forward Party is not just a political party but represents the people and the journey of all of us. No matter what the name of our new party will be, in 2027, the whole country will be orange.

#thai politics #thailand #and if you wonder why orange #it's (currently) the colour of move forward and political progress #this isn't the first time this has happened #but that doesn't make it any better #this is also why i'm super skeptical about the current government trying to exploit... uh sorry i mean promote~ ql as a soft power

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just-aake · 5 months ago

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Everlasting Devotion - Part II

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Warnings: light angst, light fluff

Words: 4494

The council meeting had just started moments ago, and Natasha could already feel a headache forming as the members continued to argue with each other.

“Lord Dreykov has made significant contributions to this kingdom,” one councilman insists, his voice rising above the rest. “We must remember that as we decide whether he is truly at fault for any part of the failed coup.”

“Providing the means to execute such acts is participating in treason no matter who they are,” another member counters, her tone equally forceful.

“Wasn’t that governess’ body found in this so-called Red Room? That’s where the soldiers were conditioned to be controlled, isn’t it?” a third councilor interjects. “How can you be sure he provided this information to Lord Rumlow and not her?”

Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose as the debate raged on, voices rising in volume and intensity.

She was beginning to regret not choosing to remain in your company for a while longer before coming here. The warm comfort of your presence is a stark contrast to the current chaos.

Over the past couple of weeks, neither Natasha nor the Captain of the Royal Guard, Steve Rogers, have found additional evidence to bring to the council to prove whether Dreykov is guilty of any crimes, leading to this current situation.

A council divided.

The tension in the room is palpable, each side remaining firm in their defense or prosecution of Lord Dreykov.

“A failed coup involving the head of the house himself,” another councilman remarks derisively, shaking his head before continuing with a scoff. “Not to mention, their governess was also behind that assassination attempt the previous year. Obviously, that family can’t be trusted. Who knows, perhaps Lady Y/n has a plot as well.”

Natasha’s brow twitched slightly in irritation upon hearing your name uttered in such an insulting manner.

Removing her hand from where it had been pressed against her temple in an attempt to soothe the tension there, she straightens her posture and places her now clasped hands on the meeting table with a soft thud.

The subtle commanding action had an immediate effect as a hush fell across the room, each of the council members turning their focus to the young queen.

Fixing the councilman who had just spoken with a hard stare, Natasha’s intimidating demeanor made him shift nervously in his seat, seemingly realizing his mistake.

“Let me remind you,” Natasha begins calmly, her voice cutting through the silence, “that Lady Y/n was also poisoned during that assassination attempt and almost lost her life in this incident as well. Both of which were to save my life.”

Her tone hardens, carrying a subtle warning as she continues, “If I were you, I’d take a little more time to choose your words carefully before making such remarks about her.”

The councilman swallows hard and quickly nods in acknowledgment.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” he murmurs, the earlier bravado gone from his voice.

Natasha’s gaze sweeps across the room, ensuring her message is clear to all.

After a moment of silence, a clearing of a throat gathers the council’s attention as everyone turns to look at the head Chancellor.

“Since we obviously have disagreements concerning Lord Dreykov, let us move on to the other houses involved,” Chancellor Ross declares firmly.

His directive was met with murmurs of assent as the council reluctantly shifted their focus, the tension in the room easing slightly but not dissipating entirely.

With a tiny sigh, Natasha turns to Captain Rogers, who is seated at her side, and gestures for him to begin discussing the verdicts of the remaining two Houses.

At least the council has already agreed on the definite guilt of the other parties involved. Now, all that needs to be discussed is the consequences of their actions.

Steve clears his throat, taking command of the room.

“Lady Eleanor Bishop has withdrawn her title from the Bishop household, accepting guilt for aiding in the coup, and agreed to carry out her sentence in prison.”

At his words, Natasha’s gaze dropped slightly to the table. She remembered how Kate had reacted to news of her mother’s punishment—a mixture of grief and conflict etched on her face before shifting to one of determination and declaring to make amends for her mother’s betrayal.

Though Kate had put on a tough front, Natasha could tell the young noblewoman was still reeling from the emotional toll of the situation.

“Lady Kate Bishop’s now the head of her house. Should she also assume her mother’s previous position on the council?” a member asks, sparking immediate debate.

“She’s too young and has no experience.”

“A new perspective could be good.”

“Is she even prepared for such a role?”

Natasha shakes her head in disbelief at the onslaught of comments from the other nobles, discussing someone’s future without care or consideration for their input.

However, unlike them, she knows about Kate’s personal aspirations as her friend.

Leaning slightly toward Steve, she whispers, “Does Kate still come to the training to be part of the Royal Guard?”

In response, Steve nods, answering, “She’s never missed one session yet.”

Natasha’s expression turns contemplative at the revelation that the young lady is still pursuing her goal despite the additional pressures of taking over her mother’s role and responsibilities.

“Should we consider assigning a different noble house to replace the Bishops, Your Majesty?” Ross asks, looking at Natasha for her input and drawing the council’s attention.

Natasha thinks for a moment before ultimately shaking her head.

“No, the seat belongs to House Bishop,” she states firmly. “Lady Kate will have the choice whether or not she wants to keep the position.”

There were murmurs of agreement, though some dissent was still noticeable. The conversation then shifted to the next pressing matter.

“The replacement for Lord Rumlow’s seat is still under consideration,” Steve announces. “Until then, the responsibility and handling of the mercenaries and weapon dealings must be temporarily assigned to another House.”

A hand raises in the air at his declaration.

“I would like to offer my services,” Lord Jasper Sitwell interjects smoothly. “Seeing how I was previously in charge of that division before.”

“Before you gave it to Lord Rumlow, you mean,” Lady Maria Hill remarks pointedly, her eyes narrowing in accusation.

“How dare you,” Sitwell snaps, his tone defensive as he stands and slams his hands against the table. “What exactly are you implying here?”

Steve starts to stand as well, his expression a warning glare against the other lord’s aggressive behavior, but Maria gestures at her cousin to halt his action with a slight wave of her hand, signaling no need for assistance.

The commander then turns her focus to Natasha, ignoring Sitwell’s glowering posture.

“My house can oversee the mercenaries and weapons with our soldiers. We’re already in charge of the kingdom’s military, so it’s not much of a stretch in responsibilities,” Maria reasons confidently.

“With no war to fight, at least this will give you some purpose for existing,” another council member mutters under their breath, earning a few stifled chuckles.

“Enough!” Natasha reprimands, tired of the constant arguments at every turn. “Attacking each other will get us nowhere.”

She turns to Maria, making the decision.

“Commander Hill will take command of Rumlow’s operations and responsibilities for now.”

That is the safer option between the two.

Lord Sitwell has been one of the more reserved nobles over the years, so his sudden outburst today does raise some suspicion for Natasha, especially since she and Steve are still working to investigate and uncover if any more noble houses are aligned with Dreykov or Rumlow.

Although Sitwell will probably deny it, Natasha knows that he has had dealings with Rumlow in the past. However, the extent of their previous connection is unknown.

The only reason she had some clue to be cautious of the noble comes from the information you provided, based on years of Rumlow boasting and showing off to you.

At her declaration, Maria nods in acknowledgment as Sitwell scowls in displeasure, sitting in his seat with a disgruntled huff.

Observing his reaction carefully, Natasha makes a mental note to discuss further investigation of the noble with Steve.

The rest of the council meeting continues in a similar manner, with moments of agreement punctuated by dissenting voices.

At every decision, Natasha feels the weight of their judgments and opinions pressing down on her, a constant reminder of how she’s supposed to maintain the kingdom’s delicate balance of peace.

After what felt like an eternity, Natasha decided to end the meeting. She was exhausted, and the constant bickering and political maneuvering were wearing her down.

“That will be all for today,” she announces.

However, before the nobles can stand, Lord Sitwell raises his hand for attention. His eyes lock onto Natasha with an inscrutable expression that causes her instincts to rise slightly in caution.

“If I may, Your Majesty,” he begins, “concerning our earlier disagreement, I propose that Lady Y/n be brought in for questioning by the council. Given how she’s the next closest person to Lord Dreykov, she could provide valuable insights into these unknown techniques created by her House.”

Natasha’s hands subtly clenched on the arms of her chair at his suggestion. Her protective instinct for you flares as her expression hardens into a disapproving frown.

She is not going to subject you to the scrutiny of these nobles in an interrogation about the Red Room and Black Widow operations, especially since her family is partly responsible for its creation and secrecy in the first place.

“Information on those methods was restricted after the end of the previous war,” Natasha reminds him, her voice steady in an attempt to deflect.

Not missing a beat, Sitwell presses on, “So, you’re saying Lady Y/n knows nothing about the details of the Red Room or the methods used in controlling people?”

His tone carries a hint of skepticism, challenging her assertion.

Natasha’s mouth presses into a thin line, her agitation barely concealed at his targeted remarks against you.

However, the main unnerving thing for Natasha is that his suspicions are on the right track.

If anything, you probably know the subject the most, having learned the different pieces of information held by each of the original collaborators of the Black Widow operations.

But revealing that fact won’t help you in this situation.

Natasha can feel the curious eyes of the council on her, waiting in expectation for her answer.

“Everything that needs to be known by the council is included in the reports from the investigation that Captain Rogers conducted,” she asserts firmly. “There is no need for Lady Y/n to be questioned.”

A pleased smile appears on Sitwell’s face as he looks at the other council members. His eyes now gleam with a calculating light.

“Yes, I’ve read the report of the incident, but something seems to be missing from the timeline of events recorded,” he remarks pointedly, flipping through the documents in his hands. “After your duel with Lord Rumlow, the accounts directly move on to your encounter with Lord Dreykov and Lady Y/n at their manor.”

Natasha’s expression remains steely as she asks in suspicion, “And what are you hoping to discover by questioning her? Lady Y/n was a victim in this incident, not a suspect.”

“Then perhaps she can provide the missing perspective of what transpired between her and her father before you arrived. Something that might explain the reasoning of Lord Dreykov’s actions at that time,” Sitwell suggests before asserting, “Surely there is no problem in asking her to speak with us, Your Majesty.”

Around the room, the council members exchange glances, most nodding in agreement.

Scoffing lightly under her breath, Natasha can’t believe that out of everything they’ve discussed today, the one thing that most of these squabbling nobles can agree on is to target you.

With most of the others favoring his suggestion, Sitwell continues, challenging with a confident smirk.

“Unless Lady Y/n is planning to use her relationship with you to conceal certain secrets.”

“You—” Natasha clenches her teeth in anger. Her words are cut off when she catches Steve giving her a subtle shake of his head, silently urging her not to continue in her defense of you.

Taking a deep breath, Natasha realizes that losing her composure and responding to Sitwell’s provocation about her relationship won’t be beneficial, especially if she wants to protect you from their scrutiny.

“Fine, I’ll consider it,” Natasha grits out, the words bitter on her tongue, before declaring firmly, “You’re all dismissed.”

The tension in the room dissipates slightly as the council members gather their things, casting furtive glances at Natasha, whose protective anger simmers just below the surface.

As some members slowly disperse from the room, Natasha catches snippets of their disgruntled voices rising in quiet but pointed murmurs.

“No surprise that she favors Lady Y/n, given their relationship.”

“Cunning, just like her father, to befriend and make the queen fall for her over the years to defend her.”

“It’s a shame, really. Limiting ourselves from a more beneficial match. We need alliances, not romantic indulgences.”

Her jaw tightens as she resists the urge to snap at them, her hands curling into fists on the table.

When the room finally empties, leaving only the Captain and Chancellor, Natasha’s head falls into her hands, and she sighs heavily.

“That went terribly.”

“I disagree. You handled it well,” Steve reassures her, a small, friendly pat on her shoulder.

Standing from his seat, Ross makes a tiny sound of acknowledgment, remarking, “It was certainly better than your father’s first attempt at it. However…”

His tone grows serious as he continues, “…I believe you should have firmly agreed to Lord Sitwell’s final suggestion, as your mother would have done if she was in that position. Your response shows obvious special treatment toward Lady Y/n.”

That comment snaps Natasha upright, her glare now fixed on the chancellor.

She’s known Ross for almost all her life, given how he was her mother’s adviser and now hers, so she understandably values his insight after everything he’s witnessed in his role.

However, she cannot stand for this remark, particularly supporting the other nobles’ opposition to you.

“They’re not searching for answers,” Natasha accuses, her voice hardening. “They just want an opportunity to intimidate Y/n.”

“Because of her relationship with you,” Ross states plainly in understanding before giving a slight shrug. “It makes sense. To them, she’s a big threat.”

Steve waves his hand in a stopping gesture, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Come on, Ross. You don’t actually consider Lady Y/N a threat. She’s one of the most loyal nobles to the royal family.”

“Considering she’s also the leading candidate to be the queen’s partner, and her father is under investigation for attempting to overthrow said queen,” Ross points out. “It’s understandable that people in the kingdom might target her or her character.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow at his words, recalling the cryptic warning Dreykov had given her about potential threats looming over you. She rises from her seat, exuding authority and a hint of intimidation.

“Have you heard anything specific, Ross? About individuals targeting Y/n?”

Ross clasps his hands behind his back and responds with a shake of his head, his voice calm and measured.

“It’s merely an observation, Your Majesty. Relationships of this nature are scrutinized closely if they don’t meet the council’s expectations. This means that Lady Y/n will likely face continuous pressure from them if she remains by your side.”

“I can protect her from such things,” Natasha declares, her resolve unwavering.

“Maybe, or maybe not,” Ross remarks calmly. “However, if you truly wish to protect Lady Y/n, then I advise you the best option is to reconsider your relationship with her.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief, crossing his arms as he faces the chancellor. “That’s terrible advice…how can you say that…”

Letting the discussion continue between the two without her, Natasha turns her attention toward the large window in the chamber. She watches the sun slowly setting, remembering her commitment to meet with you later by the lake.

With a small smile at the thought, Natasha disregards Ross’ suggestion, her mind already resolute in her decision.

There’s nothing to reconsider.

You are the only one she wants by her side, and Natasha knows she will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

~ ⧗ ~

The lake waters shimmer under the bright moonlight, casting a silvery sheen that dances with each gentle ripple, enveloping the clearing in a serene atmosphere.

A soft breeze rustles the leaves of the towering tree under which Natasha sits, her back against the trunk while you rest against her front as her arms remain wrapped around you in a warm embrace.

The air is filled with fragrances of blooming night flowers, reminding Natasha of the one she knows has not bloomed yet.

Her eyes glance up at the tallest branch on the tree where that flower rests, untouched and alone. Its time of bloom is still a few weeks away, near her birthday, which will mark exactly one year since the incident that tore the two of you apart.

The memory of that night remains vivid in her mind: the overwhelming fear and panic she felt when you collapsed from the poison, followed by the helplessness she experienced when she also succumbed, unable to help you.

Her arms instinctively tighten around you at the reminder of how close she had almost lost you at that time, too.

You must have felt the slight tension in her body since you decided to break the silence.

“Is there something else that’s bothering you?” you ask, your voice soft and filled with concern.

Natasha already told you everything that was said during the council meeting, including Lord Sitwell’s proposal. The last thing she wants is to add her worries to the pressure that the nobles are trying to put on you.

Shaking her head slightly, she softly whispers, “It’s nothing you have to worry about.”

At her response, your hands stop moving from where they were gently playing with her fingers before slowly falling to your lap as your head lowers slightly to your chest.

Sensing the sudden unease in your body, Natasha leans forward curiously, tilting her head to the side to see your face. She catches a glimpse of sadness in your expression before it shifts away, a small smile quickly appearing on your lips when you notice her gaze.

Frowning slightly, unsure if she truly saw that anxious look, Natasha still moves to reassure you.

“You don’t have to do it, you know,” she remarks softly. “I can always tell them no.”

You shake your head, huffing lightly in exasperation.

“And have them prove to everyone that you are showing favoritism to me,” you point out, raising a brow pointedly.

“Or that I’m just using our relationship to hide some sinister plan,” you repeat mockingly, shaking your head in disbelief at the extent of the other nobles’ conspiracies about you.

Natasha rests her chin on your shoulder, asserting with a playful smirk, “You are my favorite,” before pressing a soft kiss against your cheek.

Her lips are warm and tender, a fleeting touch that lingers in your heart.

“Charmer,” you accuse teasingly, rolling your eyes slightly with fondness as you turn in her arms to face her.

You brush her shoulder lightly, removing some leaves that had fallen there, and then drift your hand down her arm to her wrist, caressing the path gently.

At her hand, you interlock her fingers with yours and bring them to your lips, pressing a soft kiss before pulling away with a sad expression.

“I told you that bringing me into the castle would cause some problems for you with the other nobles,” you remind her.

Natasha scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief.

“You suffered a major injury, and your manor was damaged. The circumstances are completely reasonable for you to be at the castle,” she defends, her voice firm and unwavering, showing no regrets about her decision.

“But I’m fine now, and my manor is mostly repaired,” you say pointedly, knowing that Natasha is also aware of these facts, before adding, “There’s no reason why I should continue to stay at the castle.”

In response, Natasha tugs gently on your clasped hands and wraps her other arm around your waist, pulling you closer. She tilts her head and leans in, tucking her lips against the side of your neck.

Her breath tickles your skin as she whispers, “What if I want you to stay?”

You bite your lip lightly at her action, warmth spreading through your body as you hover above hers. You know what will happen if you let Natasha continue—the closeness of her presence is already almost overwhelming.

So, to keep your train of thought, you pull back slightly from her embrace.

Natasha immediately starts to follow your movement, leaning forward further, but you stop her with a small press of your hand against her chest.

You shoot her an amused, teasing smirk and raise your brow pointedly at her distracted action.

At your silent reprimand, Natasha twists her lips in disappointment but relents with a sigh. She leans back against the trunk of the tree as you bring her focus back to the previous discussion.

“The one issue that most of the other nobles seem to agree on is our relationship,” you say with a sigh. “They don’t like me as your partner since I don’t bring any political benefit to the kingdom, especially now that my house’s reputation is in question with Dreykov’s involvement in the coup.”

“It shouldn’t matter what they think,” Natasha says, her voice filled with frustration. “They don’t get to choose who I get to be with.”

“But as their queen, you do have to consider all of their concerns,” you chastise gently, giving her a pointed look. “Even if it’s about us.”

Groaning lightly, Natasha presses a hand to her head to ease the exhaustion of the memory of the constant bickering among the council members throughout the entire meeting.

“I doubt even they would remember that there are other issues in the kingdom that need addressing, with how they’re so distracted by scrutinizing my love life,” Natasha remarks, a hint of exasperation in her tone.

You ponder her words for a moment, twisting your lips in thought before an idea comes to mind.

“If our relationship is what’s distracting them from focusing on other matters,” you say, a determined expression forming on your face, “then let’s remove the distraction.”

Natasha’s brows furrow in surprise at your words, and she crosses her arms in disapproval, turning her head to stare out at the distant waters of the lake.

The surface now appears still and frozen, an illusion of tranquility, but Natasha knows that with a tiny action, ripples would spread across the entire lake, shattering its peaceful state.

That feeling mirrors the turmoil in her heart at your suggestion.

“I don’t think I like where this conversation is heading,” Natasha comments, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Chuckling softly, you cup her cheeks, bringing her face back to meet your eyes.

A tiny frown remains creased on her brows, and her lips are pressed together in a pout, showing some reluctance to your suggestion.

“We’re not breaking up, Natasha,” you reassure her. “At least not for real.”

Natasha relaxes slightly, but her eyes still reflect confusion and concern as she tilts her head curiously.

“What do you mean?”

You stroke her cheek gently in comfort, easing the distress still on her expression as you explain.

“If they believe that we’re no longer in a relationship, then they can’t bring it up against you anymore,” you reason. Then you can focus their attention on all of the other real matters of the kingdom.”

“They’re going to have to accept you as my partner eventually,” Natasha points out before stating firmly, “It’s not like I’m ever going to choose another person to spend my life with.”

You lower your head slightly at her indirect declaration, hiding the tiny happy smile, and blush at her words.

Shaking off those thoughts about the future, you meet her eyes again with a somber expression.

“I don’t want to be the thing that complicates the beginning of your reign, Natasha.”

“You’re not,” she insists, her voice firm and reassuring.

“But to them, I am,” you counter softly.

Your hand rests lightly above her heart, feeling its steady beat beneath her skin—a reassuring rhythm that speaks of her steadfast love and strength.

“You need time to demonstrate your capability as Queen without them using our relationship to undermine your every decision,” you say before withdrawing your hand to clasp it against your chest. “And I need to prove to them that I’m not afraid to confront them…”

Your eyes shift down to the ground, your expression falling slightly as you finish softly, “…to show I’m not a threat to the kingdom or to you.”

At your tone, Natasha examines you carefully, trying to read the emotions on your face as she’s done many times before. Her brows furrow when she notices the subtle uncertainty and sadness in your eyes and the tension in your body that was not there earlier when she met you.

“Y/n, you know you don’t have to prove anything to them, right?” Natasha asks gently.

Your mouth begins to open to respond, but you hesitate, Ross’s earlier words lingering in your mind. With a tight press of your lips, you manage a slight nod.

“Of course,” you answer weakly.

Natasha’s frown deepens suspiciously, studying you intently, but you press on before she can delve deeper.

“At least let me show them that I didn’t be your friend all these years just to seduce you to be mine,” you joke lightly with a roll of your eyes.

Raising her brows, Natasha slides her hands to your waist and pulls you in with a sudden tug.

You catch yourself on her shoulders to keep from falling entirely on top of her.

When you pull back, curiosity in your gaze, her eyelids flutter at you with a compelling mix of desire and affection.

“Is that what happened?” Natasha whispers teasingly, her voice low, sending shivers down your spine and warming your cheeks at her tone.

Her lips curve into a seductive smile at your reaction, inviting you closer, and her intense and penetrating green eyes captivate you, daring you to resist the undeniable attraction between you.

And you don’t.

Cupping the back of her neck, you draw her face close to yours, tilting your head slightly as you lean in. Before losing yourself to her irresistible pull, you reaffirm your idea.

“We’ve pretended to be together when we weren’t,” you whisper against her lips, brushing them lightly in anticipation. “How hard can it be to pretend we’re just friends?”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A/n: Thank you for reading!

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mywitchyblog · 3 months ago

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Ethical Considerations of Murder in Reality Shifting

Introduction

Reality shifting is an intriguing and deeply personal practice that allows individuals to experience alternate realities, known as Desired Realities (DRs). These DRs can be based on fictional worlds, historical periods, or entirely original creations. As shifters explore these alternate realities, they often face complex ethical dilemmas, particularly when it comes to actions that would be considered morally questionable or outright wrong in their Current Reality (CR). One such dilemma is the question of murder within a DR. This essay explores the ethical considerations surrounding murder in DRs, arguing that while murder may be justifiable in extreme circumstances such as self-defense, shifting with the intent to kill is ethically problematic and reflects deeper psychological and moral issues.

Masterlist :

Disclaimer : Read post fully and if you didnt understand something tell me i will clarify it for you.

Part 1: Justifiable Cases of Murder in a Desired Reality

1.1 Murder as Self-Defense in a High-Stakes DR

One of the most commonly discussed scenarios where murder might be considered justifiable in a DR is when it is done in self-defense. A prime example of this can be found in a DR based on the fictional world of "The Hunger Games." In this universe, participants are forced into a life-or-death competition where the primary objective is to survive, often by killing other participants. Shifters who enter such a DR might find themselves in a situation where they must defend their lives against others who are equally determined to survive.

In this context, the ethical dilemma is clear: is it morally acceptable to kill another person if it is the only way to ensure your survival? From a utilitarian perspective, which focuses on the greatest good for the greatest number, one could argue that self-defense in such a scenario is justifiable. The shifter is preserving their own life, which is a fundamental ethical priority. Similarly, from a deontological standpoint, where the morality of an action is determined by whether it aligns with certain rules or duties, self-defense can be seen as a moral duty to oneself.

Another example could be a DR set in the "Attack on Titan" universe, where characters are constantly under threat from massive, human-eating Titans. If a shifter enters this DR, they might be forced to kill these Titans or even other humans who pose a threat to their survival. In such a high-stakes environment, the line between survival and morality becomes blurred, and murder in self-defense might be seen as necessary.

A third example can be drawn from a DR based on the world of "Resident Evil." In this universe, shifters may find themselves in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by zombies and other bio-organic weapons. Killing in self-defense, especially when faced with creatures that threaten not only their life but the survival of other human beings, may be seen as morally justifiable.

However, even in such high-stakes DRs, the shifter must grapple with the emotional and psychological consequences of taking a life, even if it is to save their own. This brings us to the importance of intent and the recognition that, while self-defense might be necessary, it is not an action to be taken lightly.

1.2 Protecting Others: Murder as a Form of Heroism

Another scenario where murder might be seen as justifiable within a DR is when it is done to protect others. Consider a DR based on the world of "Harry Potter," specifically during the time of Voldemort’s reign. In this scenario, a shifter might find themselves in a position where they must kill Death Eaters or even Voldemort himself to protect innocent lives. Here, murder might be framed as an act of heroism—a necessary evil to prevent greater harm.

Similarly, a DR set in the world of "The Walking Dead" presents situations where shifters might have to kill other survivors who pose a threat to their group or even infected individuals (zombies) who could harm others. The ethical principle of utilitarianism again comes into play, as the shifter may argue that the death of one malicious individual could save countless lives, thereby maximizing overall well-being. Furthermore, virtue ethics, which emphasizes the development of good character traits, could be used to justify the action if it is seen as an expression of courage, justice, and protection of the vulnerable.

A third example can be found in a DR set in the world of "Lord of the Rings." Here, a shifter might find themselves battling against orcs or even powerful enemies like Sauron or Saruman, where the killing of such beings might be necessary to protect Middle-earth and its inhabitants. The act of taking a life, though difficult, could be seen as part of a heroic effort to preserve peace and safety for many.

However, even in this context, the shifter must carefully consider the ramifications of their actions. The line between heroism and moral compromise is thin, and the psychological toll of committing murder, even in a DR, can be significant. The act of taking a life, regardless of the reason, is one that can leave lasting impressions on the shifter's conscience, potentially affecting their mental and emotional health in both the DR and their CR.

Part 2: The Ethical Issues with Shifting for the Purpose of Killing

2.1 Shifting with Malicious Intent: Ethical and Psychological Concerns

While there are scenarios where murder in a DR might be considered justifiable, shifting with the sole purpose of killing is a different matter entirely. When a shifter enters a DR with the intention of committing murder, this action raises serious ethical and psychological concerns. Such intent indicates a desire to engage in harmful behavior, even if it is within a fictional context, and reflects deeper moral and psychological issues that need to be addressed.

For instance, consider a shifter who enters a DR inspired by "Dexter," a world where the protagonist is a serial killer who targets other criminals. If a shifter enters this DR with the intent to kill, even if they believe they are targeting “deserving” individuals, it raises ethical concerns about the glorification of murder and the psychological impact of repeatedly engaging in such behavior.

Another concerning scenario might involve a DR based on "American Horror Story: Murder House," where the shifter intentionally immerses themselves in a reality filled with ghosts and murder, engaging in violent acts against both innocent and guilty characters alike. The focus on murder as a primary activity reflects deeper psychological issues and could have significant consequences for the shifter's mental state.

A third example could be a DR where the shifter assumes the role of a notorious serial killer, like Hannibal Lecter from the universe of "Hannibal." Entering such a DR with the intent to indulge in the calculated and gruesome acts of a serial killer presents profound ethical and psychological risks. The desire to embody such a character and commit acts of murder, regardless of the victim’s innocence, highlights the dangers of reality shifting when driven by malicious intent.

From an ethical standpoint, shifting with the intent to kill contradicts the principles of many moral theories. For instance, Kantian ethics emphasizes the importance of treating individuals as ends in themselves, not merely as means to an end. By shifting with the intention to kill, the shifter is dehumanizing their targets, reducing them to mere objects of their own desires. This approach is fundamentally at odds with the respect for human dignity that Kantian ethics upholds.

Psychologically, engaging in such behavior within a DR can have lasting consequences. Even though the actions may take place in a fictional or alternate reality, the shifter's mind and emotions are still involved in the experience. The act of killing, especially when done with malicious intent, can leave emotional scars, create feelings of guilt or remorse, and potentially lead to a distorted sense of morality. Moreover, there is a risk that such behavior could bleed into the shifter's CR, affecting their real-world interactions and ethical decision-making.

2.2 Ethical Frameworks Against Shifting for Murderous Purposes

To further explore why shifting with the intent to kill is ethically problematic, it is essential to delve into various ethical frameworks and their application to reality shifting.

Kantian Ethics: The Imperative of Human Dignity

Kantian ethics, a deontological framework, argues that individuals should be treated as ends in themselves, never merely as means to an end. This principle of respect for human dignity applies not only to our interactions in the Current Reality (CR) but also extends to our behavior within Desired Realities (DRs). When a shifter enters a DR with the intent to kill, especially in scenarios where the purpose is solely malicious, they are fundamentally violating this moral imperative. By reducing others—whether fictional or real—to mere objects of their violent desires, the shifter is disregarding the inherent worth of these beings. Even in a DR, where the consequences might seem detached from CR, the act of treating any entity as a means to an end erodes the shifter's moral integrity.

Virtue Ethics: The Development of Character

Virtue ethics, which focuses on the cultivation of good character traits and moral virtues, offers another strong argument against shifting for the purpose of killing. Engaging in murder within a DR, especially when done intentionally and without justifiable cause, can foster negative traits such as cruelty, aggression, and a lack of empathy. For instance, a shifter who repeatedly engages in malicious killing in a DR like "Dexter" or "Hannibal" risks nurturing a mindset that is desensitized to violence and detached from the virtues of compassion and respect. This desensitization can undermine the development of a virtuous character, both in the DR and the CR, as the shifter becomes more accustomed to disregarding the value of life.

The Impact on Moral Integrity and the Self

*Maintaining moral integrity

involves aligning one's actions with their ethical values consistently,* across all aspects of life—including within DRs. A shifter who intentionally engages in murder in a DR, especially in scenarios inspired by "American Horror Story: Murder House," where the plot centers around violence and death, is likely to experience a fracture in their sense of self. This internal conflict arises when one's actions in a DR are at odds with their moral beliefs in the CR. The result can be emotional distress, guilt, and a sense of disconnection from one's core values. The long-term impact on the shifter's psychological well-being can be profound, leading to a diminished capacity for empathy and an erosion of their ethical compass.

Consequentialism and the Ripple Effects of Intent

Finally, from a consequentialist perspective, which evaluates the morality of actions based on their outcomes, shifting with the intent to kill can have far-reaching consequences beyond the DR itself. The experience of repeatedly engaging in murder, even in a fictional context, can alter the shifter's behavior and mindset in their CR. The normalization of violence in a DR may lower inhibitions against harmful behavior in real life, leading to a desensitization to the suffering of others. Moreover, the emotional and psychological toll of such actions can manifest in anxiety, depression, or even an altered perception of reality, where the lines between right and wrong become increasingly blurred.

In conclusion, these ethical frameworks—Kantian ethics, virtue ethics, and consequentialism—collectively argue against the practice of shifting with the intent to kill. The act of murder in a DR, especially when driven by malicious intent, is not just a fictional escapade but a deeply ethical issue that can have lasting repercussions on the shifter's character, moral integrity, and mental health. Reality shifting, when approached responsibly, offers an opportunity for personal growth and exploration. However, it is crucial to ensure that one's actions within a DR align with their ethical values to maintain a sense of moral integrity and psychological well-being in both the DR and CR.

Conclusion

In conclusion, while murder in a DR might be justifiable in extreme cases such as self-defense or protecting others, shifting with the intent to kill is ethically and psychologically problematic. Justifiable scenarios, such as those found in high-stakes DRs like "The Hunger Games," "Attack on Titan," or "Resident Evil," highlight the moral complexity of survival and the protection of others. However, these actions should always be approached with caution and a deep awareness of their potential impact on the shifter's well-being.

On the other hand, shifting with the sole purpose of committing murder, as in a DR like "Dexter," "American Horror Story: Murder House," or "Hannibal," reflects deeper issues that need to be addressed within the shifter's CR. Engaging in such behavior can have lasting psychological effects and undermines the ethical principles that guide moral decision-making. Reality shifting offers a unique opportunity for personal growth, exploration, and positive experiences, and it is crucial to align one's actions within a DR with their ethical values to ensure a fulfilling and responsible practice.

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