#i think it was actually intended to be real

[honourablejester]

I feel like I want to say ‘yes but no’ here, because I think there are actually two different arguments happening.

Going to the quoted tags, I think what they are arguing against is scenes that are randomly throw in purely for shock value. Moments that don’t tie back to anything larger in the story but are purely there to discomfit and shock the audience. Which. Can actually be useful, if what you are trying to do is create a general sense of unease and lack of safety and ‘anything can happen’, but that’s extremely tone dependent and can often just not work.

Which, as they say, is not what OP seems to be arguing for, judging by the examples they provided. Because those examples are there to serve something larger within the story. The mistake they seem to be making is assuming that ‘serving something larger within the story’ is the same as ‘following the info-dumped rules that have been established for the setting’. Whereas OP’s argument, I think, is that people find a visceral demonstration of the rules (or the exceptions to the rules) significantly more memorable than an info-dumped recitation of the rules. It’s not that you can’t flesh out the rules of your world, even if just for yourself, it’s that you should also demonstrate the rules of your world in a way that your audience will find interesting and memorable, rather than just list them at people.

And it doesn’t have to be rules. Which is, I think, also a mistake the quote tags are making. Because they seem to imply that the examples given work within the established rules of their setting, which …

I’m going to focus in on the example of Artax here for a second. Because Artax’ death isn’t necessarily within the to-this-point established rules or threats of the setting. And I suspect a lot of people did feel cheated and upset at it. It does, to an extent, come out of nowhere. The Nothing was established as a threat, but random bits of swampland that drown you faster the sadder you are, and this sadness inflicting a horse of all characters, probably didn’t feel like it had been foreshadowed in any way. The Swamp of Sadness doesn’t fit the rules.

But it does fit the themes. Artax’ death wasn’t foreshadowed because it is the foreshadowing. It is the traumatic, memorable warning shot off the audience’s bows from a story that is going to end after the complete destruction of this world. The Swamp of Sadness is a warning precursor of the complete despair, nihilism and destruction of dreams that the Nothing will cause. And Artax himself, in some ways, is a warning of the future threat of Gmork. That when it comes to fantasy, hope, dreams, it’s despair and nihilism that are the enemies, and that those who succumb to them run the risk of destroying more than just themselves.

Your visceral scenes should be grounded in the story you’re telling, yes, they should illustrate something that you’re trying to convey, but that doesn’t necessarily have to be the rules, in the sense of ‘how the magic works’ or ‘how the medieval iron trade works’. OPs complaint is that so many pieces of advice for how to write sci-fi/fantasy are about how to establish rules that mimic facets of the real world so it will seem more believable, when what you actually need to do is build a coherent tone and atmosphere so that it feels believable. You need to create moments and imagery and scenes that people will engage with emotionally, because humans are emotional creatures, and emotions, as unfortunate as it sometimes is, will hook people to the narrative faster than all the rules in the world.

The tags, though, do also have a point as well that it’s not just a visceral scene, but a visceral scene that serves some purpose. You can’t just slap a human-faced bear in there willy-nilly, there has to be a reason within the story for it.

But that reason does not have to be explained or fit within the ‘rules’. It just means that you, as an author, have to think about the effect you intend this scene to have, and does that effect enhance or detract from your overall story.

The scenes OP highlights are memorable, and they’re memorable for the right reasons, because they enhance something else about the story. The Pale Man highlights that the fairy world has its own dangers and horrors, which brings it back tonally towards the horrors of Ofelia’s real world, and makes it feel less dissonant and unreal. The blood test in The Thing shows the characters attempting to work out the rules of the creature, and viscerally and dramatically proves MacReady right about the nature of the creature, but so very wrong about the identity of the creature. It also, as do many of these scenes, demonstrates spectacularly that we ain’t in Kansas anymore, that shit is going to happen that doesn’t fit the rules of our world, which is an important tonal shift to establish the baseline of the genre. These scenes work, and they serve to bring the audience inwards towards the story, to establish the baseline for disbelief. But I guarantee you that everyone out there has an example of a scene from a movie or story that did feel just fully random and out of the blue and all the more dissonantly jarring for it. Something that threw them out of the story rather than drew them further in.

So you do have to think before you put in your bear about what you want that bear to do for the story you’re telling, and whether or not it will effectively do it.

your dark fantasy novel doesn't need a logic-based magic system it needs a bear with a human face

[blade-dressed-in-red]

» [FUCK, I’M LONELY] «

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paring: noah sebastian x f!reader

content warnings: MDNI, oral sex (male receiving), protected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool). if you believe i missed anything please let me know! i never want to make anyone uncomfortable :)

word count: 6.1k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. While inspired by real individuals, the characters and events depicted are entirely fictional and should not be considered as factual representations of any real persons. This story is solely for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to be taken as truth or to cause any harm or offense.

A/N: fluffier chapter, hope you enjoy :) also this is my first time writing actual smut so apologize in advance if it sucks lmao

Reader’s POV

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| But I still think about you all the time

When Tessa and I returned to my apartment the night of Ian’s party, I relayed the time I spent with Noah to her, including the dance floor incident which resulted in her almost yelling “You did what?” in response. Noah and I had kept in contact since that night a couple weeks ago, but both of us had been too busy to actually meet up until today. We actually texted quite frequently, him giving me his number the morning after Ian’s party. We had finally found a good day and time to see each other again, our schedules starting to clear up a bit. I made my way into my apartment after a meeting with a newly recruited band at the record label. I debated on grabbing a snack, but didn’t want to ruin my appetite for the “date” with Noah later. We thought about going back to Ernie’s, but we decided on grabbing some food and coffee, neither of us really being in the mood for getting drinks. I mentioned to him there was a cute cafe down the road from my apartment, so we settled on meeting there at three o’clock. 

I started getting ready for the outing, stepping into the shower to wash the work day off of me. Deciding on an “everything shower” to look and feel my best. I washed my hair with a shampoo that I was less than comfortable admitting the price of, only using it for special occasions (this counts, right?). After applying a hair mask and throwing my hair in a claw clip and exfoliating my whole body, I shaved my legs, underarms, and bikini line. After rinsing out the hair mask, I finished off by cleansing my whole body with some vanilla scented body wash, which lingered on my skin as I stepped out of the shower. I started my elaborate after-shower routine, applying vanilla body lotion to my whole body, focusing on the areas that tended to get a little drier than the rest. I did my skincare, making sure to fully moisturize my face so my makeup could apply as best as it could. Finishing off by rolling on some deodorant and spritzing the same vanilla perfume as that night onto my pulse points. 

As I made my way out of the bathroom to my vanity to start doing my makeup, I glanced at my phone to check the time, 2:13pm. I also noticed Noah has texted me..

“I’m about to head out, can’t wait to see you :)”

The message caused nervous butterflies to flutter in my stomach. I’ve gone on numerous dates with other attractive men, I even enjoyed their company, but something about each one of them made me question the possibility of a second date, whether it be how they didn’t understand my jokes or the way they would stare at me as if I was a piece of meat and they were a starved wolf. The memories made me cringe as I sat down to get started on my makeup. There was something about Noah that made me feel completely different to his company than anyone I had ever met. Ever since Ian’s party, I craved to be back in his embrace. I spent the rest of my time getting ready with an excited nervousness slowly building up in my body. Once finishing my makeup, I checked the time again, 2:39pm. Shit, I need to leave soon. It takes about fifteen minutes to walk over there, and driving there would be almost pointless for the distance. I quickly got dressed. My outfit consisting of a cropped black tank top, black jeans that had rips in the knees, a black and white flannel, and my Docs. I put in some small hoop earrings and adorned my neck with the same chunky silver chain from that night. I grabbed my bag, headed out the door, locking it behind me and made my down my apartment’s stairwell onto the sidewalk. 

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| I don’t know how I’m gonna make it out

The bell over my head rang as I entered the cafe. I immediately noticed Noah sitting at a table with two chairs as he was scrolling on his phone. I checked the time on my phone to see if I was late, it read 2:57pm. Not only was I on time, Noah was early, seeing as he already had a drink of sorts for himself. He was wearing black joggers and a black hoodie with various red and orange designs on it, realizing it was one of his band’s merch pieces as I approached, I noticed I could still only see the same tattoos as last time. As I reached the table to meet him, his eyes immediately averted from his phone onto me, making the butterflies in my stomach start swarming around even quicker.

“Hey! Long time no see, huh?” I half-jokingly greeted while setting my bag on the back of the chair while Noah stood up to give me a small hug. God, I didn’t even realize how much I missed his scent until now. 

“Yeah, it’s been a minute. I’m sorry about that, the band and I have just been so busy these past couple weeks.” He promptly responded before continuing,

“But how have you been?”

“I’ve been pretty good, it hasn’t only been you that’s been busy.” I said with a light laugh,

“Ephemera just signed a new band, so I've been spending a lot of time in meetings and helping organize their recruitment to make it as seamless as possible.” He nodded while giving a small smile in response. Fuck, he’s so pretty. His eyes quickly lit up in realization,

“Did you wanna go order something?” he asked while shifting in his seat to lean his elbows on the table.

“I mean, that’s why we’re here isn’t it?” I quipped while grabbing my purse to head over to the register, him following behind me. I didn’t question it, assuming he was going to order some food for himself since he already had a drink. 

When it was my turn to order, the cashier greeting me as I approached, Noah following behind me.

“Hi, I’ll have a medium dirty chai latte please. Could I get that with vanilla syrup as well?” The cashier confirmed my choice before I continued ordering,

“I’ll also have a caprese panini please.” The cashier typed my order into the register, Noah joined in on ordering which confused me, and also slightly annoyed me. I had no problem paying for him since he covered my bar tab, but he could’ve at least asked first. 

“I’ll just have a garden salad please.” 

The cashier relayed the order to us, confirming it. As I was about to pay with my card, Noah pushed my hand out of the way while handing over his card instead. I tried protesting since he already paid for my bar tab, but he insisted and I didn’t want to cause a scene in the cafe over a bill. I was quickly handed over my drink before Noah and I made our way back over to our table. We made small talk about what we’ve been up to, I told him a little bit about the band we had just signed, he talked about the production of some of the songs he’s been working on with the guys. Our food arrived soon after, us still making idle chatter while eating. Once we finished, he took our plates to the shelf above the trash for the workers to clean up later. When he came back, he began questioning me,

“So.. I heard you met Folio after we.. hung out at Ian’s party.” He smirked at me, with a glint of something in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. 

“Oh yeah, he’s super cool. When I introduced myself to him he kissed my hand as if I were a princess. Oh and when we were doing final shots with Ian he downed his whole glass of whiskey,” I recalled while letting out a small giggle at the memory. 

“Yep, that’s Folio for you,” he replied matter of factly while pressing his lips together. I decided to tempt fate to see how he’d react,

“Kind of unfortunate I met you first, I could’ve totally seen myself being on the dance floor with him that night.” I humorously stated, I knew I was lying. Sure, Folio was pretty attractive, super funny, and a sweetheart, but I knew the second Noah sat next to me that night, I was done for. Something within Noah’s eyes shifted at my remark, something darker, but he tried hiding it with a dry laugh. 

“Well I guess it’s fortunate for me I got to you first, huh?” he quipped, his eyes still hiding something behind them. This was exactly the sign I needed from him. I brushed off his reaction and decided to talk about the other guys I met that night. I found out Matt is obsessed with raccoons and one time Folio had to play a show with food poisoning while on a boat, I almost heaved at the thought. I also learned a bit more about their bassist, Nick. He was a tattoo artist and lived with the rest of the guys. The conversation between us flowed freely, as if we’d known each other for years. 

It was nearing five o’clock, the time the cafe was supposed to close. Noah and I didn’t even realize we were sitting in there for almost two hours until a worker flipped the open sign to close, which we took at our cue to leave the establishment. As we headed out, my heart sank at our time together coming to an end. Before I could wallow in it longer, Noah spoke,

“I have to meet the guys for something in a bit. Let me walk you to your car.” I could tell he wanted to stick around longer, but his work came first and I wasn’t going to be put in the way of that.

“Oh I actually walked here, my apartment is just around the corner.” He looked surprised for some reason, probably taken aback I chose to walk in a city that prioritized transportation via car. 

“Well in that case let me give you a ride home.” He had the same look in his eyes that he had when offering to order me a drink at the bar; hope. But I knew he had somewhere to be soon and didn’t want to impose.

“It’s no big deal really, it’s just around the corner.” I tried assuring him.

“Even more of a reason for me to drive you, come on let’s go.” He grabbed my hand to walk me to his car, the warmth enveloping my permanently cold hand. Once we got to his car, he walked me over to the passenger side and opened the door for me.

“Wow, what a gentleman.” I joked to him, Noah went along with the bit by bowing like a prince before shutting the car door, making me giggle more. Once he got into the driver's seat, I directed him to my apartment’s parking lot, telling him to turn at a corner store to get to my street. He pulled up to the curb, put his hazards on and quickly got out of the car and ran over to the passenger side, determined to open my door for me. As he opened it, he bowed once again while gesturing with his hand,

“M’lady,” resulting in me going into a fit of laughter. If there’s one thing Noah is, it’s preservant. He grabbed my hand as I stepped out and he closed the car door behind me. We stood in front of each other for a few beats in a comfortable silence, just staring into each other's eyes. Wow, his irises looked like tapioca pearls. He softly raised his hand up to the side of my face, grazing his thumb over my cheekbone. The butterflies immediately came back, fluttering faster than ever. I could tell what he was about to ask, but I felt his nerves course through his veins through his hand on my cheek. I decided to take the words out of his mouth,

“Can I kiss you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. His eyes widened at my proposal, eagerly nodding his head once the words sank in. I grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled him down for our lips to meet, his other hand going up to hold my face. The kiss was soft and tender, nothing like the kisses he planted on my throat the night we met. He held me as if I was the most precious object he’s ever found and if he held me too tight, I’d break under his touch. The kiss slowly came to an end, our foreheads pressed together. Noah broke the comfortable silence first,

“I had a really nice time with you today,” he said while staring into my eyes.

“Me too, we should do it again sometime,” I responded while planting a kiss on his cheek. We stayed in each other's embrace for a few moments longer, neither of us wanting to pull away but we knew we had to. Finally, I got the courage to let him leave and join the guys for whatever they needed to do. I gave him one last peck to his lips, said my goodbyes, and made my way up the stairwell as Noah leaned against his car and watched me get inside safely.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| Fuck, I’m lonely. Fuck, come hold me

It’s been a week since Noah and I went to the cafe. I didn’t want to be too overbearing, but the second I stepped foot back into my apartment it took everything inside of me to not ask him to come back whenever he was done with his obligation with the guys. I tried keeping myself busy with work to get my mind off of him, but anytime I received a text from him my heart soared in my chest. I couldn’t wait to see him again. 

He brought up the idea of getting dinner together, nothing too fancy. We settled on going to a small Italian restaurant about a twenty minute drive from my place. I debated on driving there myself, but the thought of possibly dealing with traffic on top of the anxiety of seeing Noah again didn’t sound too fun, so I ordered an uber. Since it wasn’t anything fancy, I wore casual clothes. I settled on a black knit sweater, loose-fitting blue jeans, and my Docs (of course). I got the notification that the uber would be arriving soon, so I quickly left my apartment. I made my way to the curb and waited for the uber, which didn’t take too long. After confirming with the driver, I got inside and let Noah know I was on my way. The ride was mostly silent, which I wasn’t sure if I was thankful for or not. The nervousness was slowly building up in my stomach, so I just scrolled on my phone as a distraction until I arrived at the restaurant. 

Noah let me know he had arrived about five minutes before I got there, keeping up with his punctual track record. I quickly found my way to the booth he was sitting at, water and bread already at the table. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, black slacks, and his usual white slip on Vans. He stood up as I approached the table, engulfing me in a hug as he mumbled “I missed you” into my hair. I could feel my face heat up at the sudden display and words of affection, his face matching my own. We made ourselves comfortable in the booth, asking each other how our week has been since we last saw each other. I gave him updates on the band we had signed the week prior, the production side of things working on a new single. He told me a story of him and Jesse, one of his housemates, attempting to clean their pool which resulted in Noah falling in when he lost his footing on the edge. The idea made me tear up in laughter. Soon, we ordered our food, both of us deciding to stick to water for the night. I ordered chicken alfredo and Noah got toscana soup. We continued talking over dinner, making jokes to one another. At one point, I thought it’d be funny to play footsie with him under the table, at first he paused all movements but quickly leaned into the bit, gently kicking my leg in response as a blush creeped onto his face. Eventually, we finished our dinner, the waiter offering us dessert options we politely declined to. As the waiter came with our check, I quickly handed him my card so I could pay this time since Noah paid twice now, and I was determined to make it up to him. As the waiter walked away, Noah spoke, a surge of random confidence entering his voice,

“You know, I told you you could make it up to me in other ways.” Which I playfully rolled my eyes at, the waiter coming back with my copy of the receipt. Noah and I got up to leave, and as I was about to place the order for my uber, an idea came to mind. As we exited the restaurant, I asked,

“Would you like to come over?” As the words left my mouth, I knew he knew what I was probably insinuating. The memory of him making me climax with just his hand on the dance floor flooded my head, causing my face to heat up. He blinked down at me a few times with a slightly shocked expression written on his face.

“I.. I’d love to,” he said with a soft smile.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| Spent all night just trying to get closer

We repeated the actions from the previous week, him opening the passenger door for me, then darting over to the driver’s side to join me in the car. I instructed him on how to get to my apartment complex from where we were at, but he remembered most of the way once we were in my neighborhood. 

“Turn at the corner store,” I directed him.

“I remember, Y/N.” He said sardonically. 

As we arrived at my complex, I pointed to where the visitor parking was and he pulled into a spot, turning off the ignition. We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just softly staring at each other and enjoying each other’s presence. Figuring if we stayed there a little longer it’d turn awkward, I swiftly got out of the car and inhaled a deep breath to try and steady myself. Noah followed suit, meeting me behind his car in front of my building. He looked at me for further instruction, I grabbed his warm hand and made our way up the stairwell to outside my apartment. 

“Well, this is me.” I stated as I unlocked the door. 

My apartment wasn’t too big, but I made it cozy and comfortable for myself. The entryway flowed directly into the living room where I had a black couch with various pillows and blankets I got from Homegoods during Halloween time, with a black coffee table littered with remotes, an empty mug I forgot to put in the sink before leaving, and some random papers from work I hadn’t found a place for yet. The TV stand was on the opposite wall of the couch, adorned with various DVDs (physical media isn’t dead) and movie memorabilia. I had fairy lights surrounding the room to give off some ambience in the later hours of the day. My walls were covered with various movie and music posters, and even a couple vinyl records displayed above my record player between the living room and kitchen. As Noah entered, his expression softened, like he realized that welcoming him into my home was far more intimate than he originally thought it would be. I put my bag on the hook near the door and quickly untied my boots and took them off. Noah noticed my action and repeated it by kicking off his Vans. 

I walked over to the couch, Noah trailing behind me as I made myself comfortable in my corner. He sat a bit rigid, resting his hands on his knees while he looked over at me. 

“So.. Did you wanna watch something or are you just gonna stare at me the whole time?” I teased him. He quickly looked away as a blush crept onto his cheeks, not realizing he was staring. 

“Sure,” he quietly stated. Anxiety and awkwardness started seeping into me, so I handed him the remote as I got up.

“Put on anything you’d like. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna use the restroom.” I’m not sure why I was getting nervous, his fingers have literally been inside me. The memory of him licking his fingers replayed in my head on a loop, making my body heat up at the thought. When I stepped into the bathroom, I ran my hands under cool water, hoping it could literally and figuratively cool me down. After drying my hands, I gave myself a once-over in the mirror and fixed my hair. I realized I was a bit warmer than I preferred, so I stopped into my bedroom to switch into a black tank top and grey sweats. As I returned to the living room, I noticed Noah got himself more comfortable on the couch, removing his hoodie while I was out of the room. He had turned on an anime I hadn’t seen yet which piqued my interest. I realized just how heavily inked he was, tattoos littered up and down his arms and further down his chest from what I could see near the hem of his t-shirt. 

“I see you’ve made yourself at home.” I stated while sitting back in my spot on the couch.

“Well, I found a good show to watch and figured I might as well get as comfortable as possible.” He responded while nuzzling into a blanket he was using as a pillow. We sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, just watching the characters on the screen. After a bit, I felt his eyes on me again, which I looked over at him and met his gaze. 

“Come here,” I requested, wanting to be closer to him. He sat up from his spot, leaning closer into me. I placed my hand onto his cheek, admiring the pretty boy sat in front of me. I could feel how warm his face was becoming, his blush returning to his cheeks. He placed his hand on my thigh, longing to have any physical contact with me but not wanting to cross boundaries.

“I really wanna kiss you,” he whispered to me, his eyes flickering between my eyes and my lips.

“Then kiss me, idiot,” I grinned at him. He swiftly leaned down and our lips connected. It started off soft and tender, but quickly heated up. It was evident both of us were yearning to be in each other’s space again. Without breaking the kiss, I sat up and threw my leg over his thighs so I was straddling him. I felt his cock quickly growing through his sweats beneath me, making me let out a small moan against his mouth. His hands were placed on my hips, slightly rocking me back and forth against him. I broke from our kiss to trail kisses and bites down his neck, similar to what he did to me that night at the bar. I rested one of my hands against his arm and tangled the other in his hair. He was breathing heavily and let out small whimpers and groans whenever I sunk my teeth into his neck. I spent much of my time on one area between his neck and collarbone that seemed to be his sweet spot. I returned to his lips, the kiss was a mess of spit and teeth. I put my hands under his shirt, hinting at wanting it to be removed. He got the signal, and quickly took it off. I sat in awe at all the ink displayed over his chest and tummy. I traced my fingers over the various designs, but he quickly put one of his hands behind my head to bring our lips together again. Our tongues fought for dominance, a dance that went on for a few moments as I kept grinding against him, both of us letting out small whimpers into each other’s mouths. I finally pulled away to ask him.

“Did you wanna move this to the bedroom?” to which he nodded while putting my arms around his neck to secure me against him as he sat up to carry me into my bedroom. The action made me giggle, feeling like I was climbing on him like a tree. There weren’t many other rooms in my apartment so he quickly found my bedroom in the small hallway from the door being open with purple fairy lights on to brighten the room. He delicately placed me on my bed as he stood at the foot of it, admiring my bedroom. It was decorated similarly to the rest of my apartment with a few more personal touches added. I hooked my leg around his to pull him towards me, bringing his attention back to me. He leaned down between my legs and caged my head between his arms. We continued our kiss as I ran my hands up and down his lean arms up into his hair. He pulled away, leaning up a bit to bring his hands down to the hem of my shirt,

“Can I take this off?” He politely asked me, I quickly nodded, wanting to feel his skin against my own. I sat up a bit to assist him in removing the fabric, he threw it somewhere on the floor behind him. His eyes trailed all over my bare chest, making me feel both nervous but turned me on even more. I grabbed him by his arm to pull him down, to feel him against me. He rocked his hips into me as his hand ran up and down my torso, exploring the curvature of my body with a delicate touch. He grabbed one of my boobs in his hand, rubbing his thumb softly over my nipple. His other arm was next to my head to give him stability. I decided he had already tasted me, so now it was my turn. I quickly flipped us over so I could be on top of him again, bringing my lips to his neck, continuing to kiss and bite all over. I slowly made my way down, trailing wet kisses and soft bites down his chest and tummy. As I reached the top of his sweats, I looked at him through my lashes,

“May I?” I breathed out as I curled my fingers around the waistband. He eagerly nodded as he bucked his hips up, giving me access to remove his sweats and boxers, throwing them somewhere behind me on the floor with my shirt. His cock slapped against his stomach as I removed them, my eyes widening at how big he was. I knew he was going to have a big dick, but jesus christ. Before I could think anymore, I brought my hand around the base of his cock, licking a stripe from the bottom to the tip, slowly licking his head with my tongue. My teases resulted in low groans and whimpers from Noah’s throat. I looked up at the boy I wanted to unravel, seeing I was close to being halfway there already. His brows were furrowed together, his lips swollen from our kisses, and his hazy eyes were half-lidded while meeting my gaze. While maintaining eye contact, I put him in my mouth, watching as he threw his head back against the pillow from the action. “Fuck,” he muttered, grabbing my hair in his hand but didn’t push, it being more of an attempt to ground himself. I started working my tongue around him, bobbing my head up and down as he let out the most beautiful noises I’ve ever heard from a man. The size of him resulted in me producing a lot more saliva from my attempts to take in all of him. I had never really ever been that into giving head, but I had a change of heart this time around. I continued working him until he softly pulled my head back. “If you keep going, I’ll cum..” He practically gasped out as I sat back on my heels, wiping away the mess of saliva and precum from my lips.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” I retorted, raising an eyebrow. I quickly got up and grabbed a condom from my dresser drawer. I returned to my spot by his legs.

“Can I put this on?” I asked while holding up the condom, his eyes slightly widening at the request, but accepted it by a nod. I took the condom out of the wrapper and rolled it onto him. I quickly removed my own sweats and panties in one go. He sat up and quickly grabbed me to turn us back over so he was above me again. He kissed me deeply, pulling away and looking me in my eyes. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked softly.

“I’m one hundred percent positive.” I responded, smiling at him as I pulled him down to kiss him again. He leaned back onto his heels, staring at my pussy. He spat on his fingers, bringing it down to lubricate me a little with his saliva. The contact made my hips buck against his hand as he trailed his fingers over my clit and entrance. He bent down to hover over me again, giving me a peck to my lips before he looked down to guide himself into me. His eyes flicked up to me as he was about to enter,

“If you need to stop at any time, please tell me.” He politely told me.

“I will Noah.” I assured him. I felt him slowly slip inside me, I gasped at the pressure. His strokes started small, almost teasingly. He gave me time to adjust to his size, at first it hurt a little bit, but was quickly replaced with pleasure. I grabbed his head to bring him down to kiss me as he finally fully slipped inside of me.

“Noah..” I breathed out, his thrusts started off slow so he didn’t possibly hurt me. I bucked my hips against him to signal to move faster, which he followed up on. I could already feel my orgasm building inside of me.

“Fuck, Noah.” I whimpered out. 

“I know, baby. God, you feel so good.” He grunted. He placed all his weight onto his elbow as his other hand made its way between our bodies. I felt his thumb start tracing circles on my clit, making me let out a whine as my eyes practically rolled to the back of my head. The contact is exactly what I needed to come undone underneath him. I felt my walls tightening around him, and I could tell he was fighting off his own release by his growling and whispering swears into my ear while his thrusts were becoming sloppier and harder. He started slowing down.

“I’m not cumming until you have at least one more.” He quipped, grabbing my leg to rest it over his shoulder, making his cock sink further into me. His thumb was still tracing messy circles over my clit, determined to draw another orgasm out of me, which I felt quickly approaching. The stimulation of the new angle, driving himself deeper into me, feeling all of him, made my head fuzzy. After a few strokes, my second orgasm hit me, this one more intense than the last. I felt my vision start to blur at the edges, making me shut my eyes as his hips continued snapping into me. I felt myself still pulsing around him as he removed my leg from his shoulder, craving to be closer to my body, his head settled in the cook of my neck. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” He breathed out while haphazardly thrusting into me, making me clench around him more, which was all he needed to finish. I felt his cock twitch inside of me before slipping out as he relaxed his body over my own. This would usually feel overwhelming from the size of this man, but something about it made me feel safe, like he was a security blanket. He raised his head, grabbing my chin with his fingers and kissed me. The kiss felt deep and meaningful, like he was saying everything he wanted to express without speaking a word. He eventually pulled away but continued gazing into my eyes, his own still had a slight haze over them with his swollen lips curved into a soft smile.

“That was..” He started but trailed off at a loss for words. I giggled before responding,

“I won’t speak for you, but that was amazing.” I softly stated, him nodding in agreement before resting his head on my chest. 

We stayed in bed for a few minutes as I played with his hair and rubbed his scalp. We were both coming down from our highs and just enjoyed the feeling of the other’s skin pressed into our own. Noah eventually got off of me and out of the bed to discard the condom. He found his underwear in the pile of clothes we left on the floor and put them on while throwing my shirt and panties over to me. Before he had the chance to further dress himself, I asked,

“Do you wanna spend the night?” Shit, was that too much to ask? I started rambling to cover for myself, not wanting to seem too needy. 

“It’s fine if you don’t.. I.. uh.. just figured it probably already kind of late so I thought I’d ask. B-but it’s completely fine i-” He cut me off by bending down and kissing me.

“I’d love to spend the night, Y/N.” He stated as he pulled away, giving me a grin which I matched. 

Noah returned to the bed and I rested my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he lazily played with my hair. We stayed like this for a while before I realized I should shower before I fell asleep. I perked my head up, resting my chin against him as I looked up at him, his eyes were barely open but widened to meet my gaze. 

“I’m gonna go shower, would you care to join me?” I asked him lightheartedly as I sat up. He quirked a brow before answering,

“It would be my pleasure,” he replied with a smirk. 

The shower with Noah wasn’t sexual in nature, but sensual. While we both ran our gazes over each other's bodies numerous times, it felt like it was out of adoration rather than ogling. We shampooed each other's hair, him needing to bend down in order for me to lather his hair up properly. After thoroughly rinsing conditioner out from our hair, we washed the other’s body. I took my time while scrubbing the loofah over him as I admired the various ink adorning his skin. While all of them painted stories that I wasn’t aware of and didn’t feel the need to question him about them in the moment, the one that really caught my eye were the lines across his chest that went over his nipple. I had a couple smaller tattoos so I knew the pain associated with getting one, and the thought of a needle going over my own nipple various times made me cringe on the inside.

“So, how bad did that hurt?” I asked as I wiped away the soap from his chest. He looked down to see which ink I was referring to. 

“Like a bitch, but thankfully didn’t last long.” He stated. 

After our shower, I made sure to do my usual skin and body care routine and managed to find a spare toothbrush for Noah to use for the night. Once I was done, I came back into my bedroom to find Noah already tucked into the bed scrolling on his phone but quickly averted his eyes up to me.

“Hi.” He stated while giving me a toothy grin.

“Hi.” I replied as I made my way over to join him in bed. I was quickly engulfed by his large arms. The fairy lights were still on, engulfing his face in a purple glow that somehow made him look even more ethereal. 

“I had a good time today.” He softly spoke.

“I did too.” I responded. We stayed like that for a bit, just admiring each other until exhaustion from the day caught up to us. I remained in his arms, the feeling his breath against my neck lulling me to sleep. 

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| i don’t want to get over you

» [FUCK, I’M LONELY] «

0:00 ──────〇 3:37

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tag list: @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lil-garbitch @fadingangelwisp @dontwantthemoney @heyyoplayer @death-ofpeace-ofmind @thatchickwiththecamera @shayeanna-ashlie @supersquirrel1996 @overmydeadbodysblog @lacy1986 @renegadebirch @bloody-spades @pipidoll @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @lunabuna991

[hannahssimblr]

Jen and I used to play takeaway bingo when we were teenagers. You wind up at enough of them between midnight and two, and start noticing a pattern. Someone fighting—one point for your card. Someone forgetting what they ordered—another. Someone trying to get into the locked staff toilet. Someone kissing. A hen party singalong. The presence of a blow-up doll. Someone passed out in a booth, getting sick outside the door, a drink exploding over the linoleum, hapless drunks jostled around by bouncers.

The kebab shop is quiet tonight. One point for my card, for the guy snoring in the booth next to Evie and me.

She eats in silence under the lights, those grim fluorescents that hum faintly and cast a contaminated grey hue over everything—the kind I always thought made the food look suspect.

Still, she doesn’t care. She shovels it in. A kebab, handfuls of chips, chicken goujons, leaning over the paper packaging with greasy hands poised like a connoisseur of drunk food. Touch nothing but what you intend to eat. Can’t trust the surfaces. Never risk touching your clothing with saucy hands.

I watch her with admiration, fingers drumming idly on the side of my Pepsi can. I told her I wasn’t hungry, even though my stomach’s been growling since ten, and almost believe it myself when I say it. Hunger’s easier to ignore than the blow to my pride that would come from admitting I can’t afford a bag of chips. I long for the tacos I left on the plate earlier. Thirteen euros for them, sitting now in the bin in the Mexican place while I starve here.

But here I am anyway, watching her eat, the surreal, satisfying feeling of being with her again. Her. In the flesh instead of in memory. The different, less triumphant reality than what I had imagined.

She eyes me while I twist open the can, the hiss of it seeming to remind her I’m here. 

“Wow, greedy,” she says. 

“Yeah, I’m a mess. Might have to have me airlifted out after this feast. Here, can I’ve a chip?” I reach for the bag, and she swats my hand away. 

“No. Look at you—doing that thing boys always complain about. Girls not ordering anything and then stealing their food. This is modern feminism.”

I laugh. “Oh, come on. Just one, for Christ's sake.”

She eyes me distrustfully as I pluck one skinny chip out. 

“You want to count it?” I say. “Make sure I haven’t another hidden in my hand?”

“Ugh, shush for a minute,” she says, this edge of desperation in her voice. “Please, I really just want to eat this.”

I lean back, taking conservative sips of my drink while she tears into her food. It’s a bit insane, the ferocity at which she goes at it. This kind of relentless feasting, head down, elbows out, chewing with mechanical focus. Like if she stopped, she’s have to think about talking to me again.

“Skipped dinner?” I say eventually, and she wipes a blob of sauce from the corner of her mouth. “Didn’t have time to eat today.”

“Ah.”

“You went to some Mexican place earlier,” she says between bites. “The guys were saying.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm, risky move, isn’t it? Bringing you to a Mexican restaurant?”

“Why’s that?”

She shrugs, and a piece of kebab meat drops onto the paper. “Because you’ve probably had, you know, actual real Mexican food when you lived in the states. That’s what everyone always says, isn’t it? Like, ‘oh, you don’t know Mexican food until you’ve had it in America’, or something like that.”

“I imagine they’d probably say that about Mexico, too.”

She just smiles. 

“Well, yeah, the food was okay. It was nice to see Claire and Shane again. That was the real reason I went out. They look good.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, of course. Shane’s gotten real fit, you know? He’s in great shape.”

Evie lets out a derisive laugh. “Yeah.”

“Hm?”

“Like, yeah. He’s working out the whole time. Twice a week home to train, then the coach has him sanctioned to the gym every other day, just about. He’s gone full protein-shake mode, at this stage. I assume he’s aspiring to become the Hulk.”

Feel my smile thinning. “Good for him.”

“Mm. Bit miserable, don’t you think?”

“Clearly you do.”

“Well,” she pauses thoughtfully, swallowing a bite of kebab. “He doesn’t do anything fun, in my view. He doesn’t have free time anymore, and his coach has all these rules, even, about things he’s not allowed to do off the pitch. It’s like a totalitarian regime.”

“Alright,” I say, and her face falls. 

She doesn’t speak then. Just wipes her mouth with a serviette and shifts in her seat. Eyes locked on the food, though there’s something stiff in her posture now. 

I sip my drink, watching her a bit as she pretends to focus on the next bite, but it’s like she’s eating something made of rubber, something unappetizing, eyes zoned out, like she’s left the room without her body. 

The silence drags on longer than it should. 

“So come on, Evie, what’s been going on with you? I can’t believe it’s been so long since we last spoke, to be honest. That’s crazy.”

“I know,” she says, flatlined voice. “Seems we lost touch there at one point.”

I hesitate. “Yeah, I regret that. Life got so busy so quickly and… it was all a whirlwind, really. But, I… uh, I thought of you often, Evie. I always imagined we’d run into each other again.”

“Ah, well, what can you do? Here we are. A year and a half on.” I reach for her arm across the table, a bid for connection, to bridge a gap between us, but she moves away, pretends to want a drink from her milkshake. 

Nice, okay. Good to know where I stand, at least. I fist my hand in my lap. “You look really different. I always think of you with that really long hair you had.”

“Yeah. I cut it all off, as you can see.”

“And do you still run? And swim? Do you do all that stuff you used to?”

“No, actually I don’t,” she says. “I suppose I fell out of the habit when I moved here. Don’t really do most of the things I used to.” She fixes me with a new look, eyebrow quirked in some expression of defiance, like hey, you don’t know me at all anymore, and I will punish you for trying to. “How’s Berlin, anyway? Better than here, after all?”

“Yeah, really good. Hey,” again I move to reach out to her, knowing it’s futile before my hand rises above the table top. Drop it back down to my lap. “If you’re angry with me for losing touch—”

“Why’re you wondering about that?” she cuts in. 

“You’ve gone chilly on me all of a sudden, I don’t know.”

Her eyes widen with fury. “It’d be a bit intense if I was still angry about something like that, wouldn’t it?”

I say nothing. 

“Good to know you got my email, by the way. It was a pity it wasn’t worth responding to, apparently.”

I can’t help but laugh. In shock, really, instead of amusement. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. Yeah, I could have dealt with it better, but I was getting to know a new city, and there were all these new people… I left your email sitting there a bit too long and then, well, I suppose it started feeling like it’d be weird of me to respond after so long.”

“You didn’t really try, exactly, did you?”

I let that one sink in for a minute. Rougher than I expected. I always knew I should have tried harder, but I thought she’d just... forgive me, like she was supposed to. I didn’t want to be the bad guy here. I wanted proof I wasn’t one.

Say something. “You could have sent another message.” A reflex. Hollow sounding, and words sticking in my throat like they belong to someone else. Some weak little man.

Her face seethes. Oh, yes, good. She loathes me. Loathing is preferable to indifference. I might actually take that. The horrible, ugly victory of it. The proof she feels. Felt. Missed. Longed, maybe, for me to fill some dark and terrible hole. I hate the thought and the feeling. Sick triumph, like the smell of decay. I didn’t want to ruin you, not really, Evie. I just needed proof I mattered.

“Look, I–” 

“You have a new piercing in your ear,” she says, sharp jerk of her head, like, no. Don’t dare go on. Her features swiftly neutralise as she goes back to picking at her food while I touch my finger to the silver hoop through my left helix bone. 

“Uh, yeah. I did. I figured–” clear my throat and adjust in the seat. “You know, since my dad already hates the other two, might as well swing for a third.” It was a piercing I got done in Slovenia. Drunk. “It hurt,” I offer. Bled, in fact. She might relish the thought, but I don’t disclose it.

“Little baby,” she replies, smile tugging at her lips. “I got the same one done when I was like sixteen and it wasn’t bad at all.”

“I remember the piercings you had,” I say. “You had four on one ear. Can I see?”

And she turns her head for me, revealing a single hoop, the rest of her ear dotted with tiny punctures. Emptiness now in places that used to be studded with silver and gold. 

“I took them out,” she says, rueful. “They didn’t feel like me anymore.” 

And I am too—rueful about it. “Damn. I thought they were cool.” 

She hums in vague agreement and glances around, eyes on a group of rowdy lads who come in, chanting some tuneless chorus on their way to the counter. “So, any other surprises up your sleeve?”

Yes, literally, up my sleeve. I risk it for another chip. She lets me have it, and I pop it, cold and rubbery, into my mouth as I tug my sleeve up for her, exposing the soft underside of my forearm to the fluorescent light.

“Did you design it?”

“No, I just thought it was cool.”

“Ah, okay. And like, does it mean something in particular? The mango, like. Bit unusual.”

“Uh, no, actually. It really doesn’t. It’s just I was in Thailand and kind of thought it’d be fun to get one.” How devoid of depth and opinion do I sound now, really? I think. Have yet to come up with a decent reason to have a tattoo—can’t even formulate a lie about its meaning. Just cos. That’s why. Stupid thing, really. Artistry is impressive, yes, but I’m not even sure I pull it off. 

“Thailand, yeah? When was that?”

“June,” I say. “I always wanted to go. I think everyone should, if they can, to be honest.”

“Well, go on, then,” her straw squeaks in the lid of her milkshake. “Tell me all about it.”

“Oh, I can’t do it justice with words, really.” I retrieve my phone, aware that photos are safer than conversation. “Here, I can show you.” 

“Yeah,” she shrugs, and gets up. Slips into the booth next to me. “New phone, I see. I thought you’d still have that piece of shit you used to.”

“Had to upgrade. Needed maps to survive Berlin.”

“Hope you’re making good use of the torch feature.”

I chuckle. “Alright, well, let’s look at my holiday pictures when you’re ready.”

She leans over but never close enough to touch as I scroll through Bangkok temples, islands, markets. She’s performing interest, laughing at the right moments, asking non-probing questions. 

When her hair accidentally brushes my arm, she yanks away with a whispered “Sorry” like I might be contagious. 

“Here’s Koh Samui. Near the end of the trip.” 

“I could tell. You look aggressively tanned.” 

“Yeah, I tan easily.” 

“I remember.” A flash of something genuine in her voice. 

“There’s a photo somewhere of a monkey that jumped on my shoulder. Let me find it—” My thumb scrolls too far. “Oops. Uh...”

A photo of Astrid and me flashes on screen. At the lake. Barely wearing anything. 

Panic detonates, my thumb fumbles, scrolling too fast, Jonas asleep on the plane. Then back again. Astrid. My hand on her arse. Nowhere to hide from it. 

I can’t exactly lie or say she’s my friend. 

“Uh, yeah,” I look up from the photograph too fast, my thumb stills on her waist, mid-kiss, glowing on screen. “That’s my girlfriend, Astrid,” I admit. Feeble smile. Might as well be confessing to a crime.

Evie’s gone rigid in her seat. Not smiling, just observing. “Yeah, she’s very pretty,” she says. 

“She’s… yeah. She’s absolutely beautiful.” 

I flip to another photo. If we’re doing this. Astrid posing for the camera, hair sleek and straight, so long it brushes the waistband of her bikini. In moments like this, I see her as others do. Objectively. She’s extraordinary.

How’d you pull her? They always ask, and I have no idea how to answer. 

Evie sits there in this calm way that makes me wish she’d just scream, or something.

“Wow. Yeah. There she is,” she says. Her eyes flick to the men at the counter, clinging to each other’s coat sleeves, bawling out their orders, rocking unsteadily as a unit. And it occurs to me that, though they fill the place with noise, her silence is louder than all of them.

I shut the phone off quietly. Slide it back into my pocket. 

“We should go back, I think,” she says, all mild again. “They’ll all be wondering where we are.”

“Yeah, sure,” I reach for her food wrappers to help, but she tells me no. Takes them herself. 

The men start on her as she moves.

 Here, my mate fancies you. Can he have your number? He’s a gentle lover, he is. Ye’d have a beautiful life together. 

Evie looks bored. Takes her coat from the booth and zips it to the top. 

“We going?”

“Yeah, we can,” I hurry after her to hold the door. 

“This was nice,” I say as she slips out ahead of me. “Thanks for the chips.”

“It’s fine. Thanks for coming with me.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[enodia-polymorphous]

Hii! I was wondering if you could shed some light on whether the Deipnon was a real ancient tradition? I watched this video [ https://youtu.be/jMEcXJpPHt4?si=5TxmS8CyT68-sGSD ] where the OP claimed that there are no ancient sources about the Deipnon and it’s just a modern misconception, so I’m curious

Is Hekate's Deipnon a real ancient tradition?

Hello there!

I watched this video recently as well (within the last few weeks) and wanted to get back to it at some point - and here we are.

To anyone reading this and interested in what I have to say, the context is important! So have a listen to this video which is just under 20 mins long, and you can increase the playback speed too.

I like this video! And I'm surprised that I haven't heard of it sooner. Because it does dive into how fragmented our sources for Hekate's Deipnon are and how lacking they are, too.

I don't intend to re-analyse each fragment and the commentary provided by Fel, but instead here's my perspective on the situation, which doesn't necessarily make me an expert or "right"!

Assumptions When Reconstructing an Ancient Religion

Fel includes a quote from Sarah Iles Johnston's "Restless Dead" which I will pull some sub-quotes from to help explain my thinking here.

It has sometimes been assumed that these suppers were taken to the crossroads every month [...]

But like the Selinuntine rite for the Tritopatores, it is also possible that [...]

The monthly suppers are not mentioned in an festal calendars, which would tend to support the latter idea, although the omission may also mean only that they were taken to the crossroads by individuals on their own behalf [...] In either case, their regular offering does not seem to have been understood as so critical to the health of the polis as a whole.

Johnston demonstrates how we approach reconstructing concepts of Ancient Greek religion. Much of what we know about the practice, in a scholarly sense for academics and practical sense for hellenic polytheists, is based on educated assumptions.

You might ask someone in the field of classics, archaeology, or ancient history how they know if something was done or seen a certain way back then. They are likely to tell you that they don't know and that they tend to be careful with their wording because they never know when new evidence might be uncovered that changes what we have recorded of ancient civilizations and of this religion. Or even if we "never" uncover further evidence, they surrender to the idea that they are more than likely to never know.

When we apply this idea to the fragmented evidence of Hekate's Deipnon, we can make the following assumptions ourselves:

We don't actually know if it wasn't celebrated at all.

As noted from Johnston, the omission of the tradition in a common source (in this case, the festal calendars) doesn't necessarily mean the omission of the tradition entirely. Hekate's Deipnon could've been a household/private practice (in line with household purification rites) for those who wanted to honour the dead or cleanse their home or honour Hekate.

Fel mentions that Plutarch, who in a translation of Moralia writes of suppers to Hekate, in his time much later than Classical Athens, could have been writing based on literature we no longer have [or haven't found] on this potential tradition.

And I have a few notes under the section "What else do we know about Hekate's Deipnon?" with some topics and sources that can be further delved into when exploring this topic which weren't in the video - whether or not they tell us if this was a real ancient tradition.

2. We don't know if it was celebrated at all.

Fel notes in the video, based on their independent study, that the nature and existence of Hekate's Deipnon is not conclusive (i.e. we can't conclude that it was celebrated). I agree, to the best of my knowledge!

I mean, we don't have much of a record of any other festal calendar traditions for Hekate either. And Hekate is said to have "joined" the hellenic pantheon later than other deities were established (especially in discussions about Hekate's roles as a deity in the hellenic pantheon, and the potential overlaps. See example: Johnston's chapter Hecate and the Dying Maiden from Restless Dead which theorises on Hekate's entrance to the hellenic pantheon and how overlaps with other deities such as Artemis influenced what we know of Hekate's functions). (Does this mean she may have had holidays that weren't recorded in a way that we have evidence on these days? Does this mean they didn't exist in the first place? We don't know.)

I think it's fair and reasonable, based on what Fel has concluded in their video and if we were to look into what Fel said ourselves (i.e. actually look at/for the sources and consider our interpretations), to go forward saying: "Hekate's Deipnon is a [modern] celebration that we assume took place on the last day of the lunar month in antiquity and is assumed to involve [...]" -> and in stating this, we try our best to research into the potential traditions we're discussing (for example, purification rites involving Hekate, even if they aren't particularly associated with Hekate's Deipnon) and provide sources or be ready to provide sources.

If you wanted to, you could even say that "we lack the sources to confidently refer to Hekate's Deipnon as tradition from Ancient Greece" - which I also consider reasonable to state. Perhaps this is what I will say from now, until more evidence comes along.

Though we may now consider, what does this mean for current day celebrations of Hekate's Deipnon?

Modern Day Deipnon

My personal belief is that we shouldn't go around telling worshippers of Hekate that Hekate's Deipnon is fake and to never celebrate it because of our lack of sources. (I'm not assuming you would, Anon - I'm just making myself clear here).

I respect if other hellenic polytheists decide that they don't want to include Hekate's Deipnon on their festival calendars [anymore] after watching Fel's video and looking into the sources themselves. I imagine that celebrating better-sourced festivals (or some may interpret celebrating festivals that existed in antiquity) may be important to their practice and that's fine.

For myself, I intend to continue celebrating Hekate's Deipnon as a monthly observance either at the end of the lunar month or the start of a new one (the cusp, even, if that's your jam) because it fits into my practice and I like how it brings me closer to Hekate. I think it's okay and even good to celebrate new festivals for our deities, in a solitary practice or with a community.

From my understanding, this isn't a misconception in the same way as the maiden, mother, crone depictions of Hekate. MMC is a Wiccan concept which has its own issues around misogyny and the bastardisation of Hekate and other goddesses.

I would still consider Hekate's Deipnon as an ancient tradition as a misconception, yes, though one that is unproblematic.

Hekate's Deipnon doesn't make new assumptions about the goddess herself. Observing the deipnon doesn't change who Hekate is. Hekate's association with the restless dead is separate from the deipnon. Her association with crossroads offerings is separate. The deipnon being celebrated on the new moon doesn't necessarily make Hekate the goddess of the new moon (the new moon is simply the end of the lunar month). Deipnon being the concept of supper is separate from Hekate's Deipnon.

If some practitioners may form new associations with Hekate based on Hekate's Deipnon, that is less about the observance itself and more to do with missing research or knowledge (in my opinion!).

Again, the main turning point I see here is how we refer to it as a tradition. Rather than confidently stating that this was something the ancients did back then, we can acknowledge how little we know about Hekate's Deipnon plus consider how Hekate's Deipnon has become a religious development for many hellenic polytheists.

Religion changes and evolves. New traditions are and can be created.

(Plus the Attic calendar of festivals isn't the only one and there are many festival calendars we may never know about from different cities, rural areas, sanctuaries and more! Who knows what festivals were celebrated for the Theoi in Ancient Greece and around the world that we might recreate unknowingly nowadays?)

That is to say, I actually quite like how Hekate's Deipnon has evolved despite the rocky sourcing. It has become more than an assumed recreation of what was practiced in Ancient Greece. A fleshed out modern celebration for a goddess who is largely misunderstood. It brings worshippers together, teaches worshippers about the important concept of purification, honours the goddess, and puts Hekate on the calendar for those who want her on their festival calendars.

What else do we know about Hekate's Deipnon?

Apart from what was mentioned in Fel's video, I have a few more things to throw in the ring. These may or may not support or be associated with Hekate's Deipnon as an ancient tradition. All of these require more research on their origins and associations.

At some point I want to write something up about what I find on all these, but for now you can have this list to explore yourself if you'd like:

ἕνη καὶ νέα (hene kai nea) - "old and new", stated to be the last day of the lunar month, and sometimes associated with Hekate. A name/phrase that Hekate's Deipnon (or sometimes the triad of Deipnon, Noumenia and Agathos Daimon) has been referred to as. Mentioned: https://www.worldhistory.org/article/833/the-athenian-calendar/, https://chs.harvard.edu/primary-source/hesiod-works-and-days-sb/#fn27.

Triakas - Another term similar to hene kai nea.

Genethlia - Mentions found in non-english literature on Lagina/Caria and "Reconstructing the Sacred Experience at the Sanctuary of Hekate at Lagina" by Amanda Herring. Potentially a monthly feast of Hekate at the end of each lunar month or a yearly "birthday" feast of Hekate at the Temple of Lagina. Non-English literature includes "Stratonikeia Kuzey Şehir Kapısı Girişleri ve Kült Bağlantıları Üzerine Değerlendirmeler" by Özdemir and Söğüt, and "Les cultes indigènes en Carie" by Alfred Laumonier (pg. 393 - 397)

From what I found, the celebrations of Hekate at the Temple of Lagina may be of interest and a potential origin point for Hekate's Deipnon. (Ironically you should note that even her potential origin in Caria is still a scholarly debate and her geographical/cultural origin is non-conclusive too.)

This is all I have to say at this time on Hekate's Deipnon! I hope that it was insightful and provided some direction for you.

It is quite the development to learn this when we're comfortable in our assumptions about Hekate's Deipnon and hellenic polytheist festivals in general - it definitely took me some time to formulate these thoughts, though I'm glad to have this written up now!

divider credits -> @enchanthings-a and @strangergraphics

[youthereader]

Near Zero part 10.

PAIRING: cillian murphy as j. robert oppenheimer x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 1.1k words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.

RATING: E; (no smut in this part), angst, period-typical sexism

A/N: Although based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character, and does not intend to be accurate. This is merely for entertainment.

masterlist.

“Love is not an exact science,” you hear someone say as you weave through the masses. The source is a chemist whose cigar smoke clouds your vision, your hand dispersing it with a short wave. 

You’re with your neighbors Mary and Barb. Knowing that everyone will be dressed up, you compromise and wear burgundy, and actually bother to do something a little more sophisticated with your hair. It’s better to have tried than to have not, since you’ll stick out more for looking sloppy on a night like this. 

You crave gin, your stomach a flurry of butterflies. You could hear the music from the street, the raucous laughter of the crowd inside. The hall heaves with bodies. “Hello, hello,” Barb says, waving and kissing people as you pass through. “We’ll catch up.” You reach the bar and she gives a sigh of relief, which Mary mimics. You order three martinis, putting your purse down. 

“Haven’t seen you in forever,” Mary says, and Barb nods. You’d waited for this. 

“Busy with John?” Barb adds, and your brows lift.

“Not so much,” you reply. You tap their glasses with your own. “Cheers.”

“Chin-chin,” Mary declares with a wicked grin. “Single women on Christmas. Hallelujah.”

You laugh with them but don’t feel free. John is somewhere there, he told you he’d be around. You’re not seeing one another anymore, you don’t think, hence your ambivalence. Unfortunately, you don’t expect him to keep to himself tonight. As if summoning him with your thoughts alone, he appears by your elbow a few minutes later, offering a hand. 

“Dance with me?”

You reluctantly take his hand, feeling eyes on you. You look around and don’t see the Oppenheimers, or anyone from your department that can save you. John keeps trying to make eye contact, his grip tightening on your waist as if to prompt you. You glance his way, tempted to stop moving, to let another couple collide with you. You’re not prone to dramatics, however John constantly irritates you now. It’s effortless to despise him, actually.

“How have you been?”

“Busy.”

“I wanted to see you,” he adds.

“You are seeing me,” you retort. “And you made it clear that you find me completely un-serious.”

His blandly handsome face falls a little and you don’t smooth anything over. This is what happens to people that put you in a box. 

“But we…”

“Fucked?” you prompt, and he flinches at your crassness. 

“Yes,” he hisses, turning pink. “And you thought so little of it?”

A few drunken cheers surrounding you drown out your voices a little. You lean in to speak beside his ear.

“I don’t think about it at all.”

He doesn’t let go, a flash of anger in his eyes as you move together, slow spins. He opens and shuts his mouth a few times, cogs turning. You delight in this, having felt little of much else towards him during your fling. You’re truly bored with anyone outside of the laboratories. 

“I told everyone,” he says finally, and you blink. “And I told everyone what you’re like.”

“I supposed you would,” you drawl. “Can’t say I’ve done the same.”

If you did, you’d say he wasn’t good in bed. He was a terrible conversationalist, and you didn’t think he had much of a future career, either. His most interesting years were behind him, at college, or even as early as high school. 

“You make me sick-”

“Excuse me, may I cut in?” 

Your eyes snap to the voice you know in your marrow, your face flushing as you see Robert standing there with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, eyes sparkling with mirth. John says nothing, frozen as you’re whisked away with ease. Your stomach somersaults as the world around you fades away. 

He speaks in warm murmurs, his tone practically for pillow talk. 

“Was he bothering you?”

“Yes,” you say, taking a deep breath. 

You watch as he deftly strikes a match and lights his cigarette without letting you go, his other hand still guiding you along. 

“And am I bothering you now?” 

“Was I bothering you earlier?” you throw back, and he exhales away from you, eyes never leaving your face. “When I found you with Groves?”

“Of course not.”

It is always so easy to adore him, and you have the urge to kiss him. He leads you around, unbothered by any of the staring crowd.

“I’m not a nice person to be seen with anymore,” you say. “Or haven’t you heard that about me in the last few months?”

“I’m not going to acknowledge any of it,” Robert says, and the song changes to a slower tune. 

Your face burns as you move in closer to one another, the same as the other couples dancing with you. For the first time, you search for Kitty in the crowd. You find her with a group of women all nursing their drinks, her eyes drifting to meet yours. You wonder what you look like, and whether she believes what she’s heard, too. 

Her drink meets her lips and you feel everything shrink again. She has no evidence to suspect you, surely. There’s no reason, except this dance, for Kitty to think anything happened between you and Robert. You haven’t been alone in the same room for months. 

“Why did we do this, again?” you whisper. “Any of it?”

“I couldn’t stay away,” Robert says, and you look his way once more, seeing the sadness there, mixed with an undeniable fondness. “And I think you enjoyed it somewhat, too.”

You give a shrug, knowing he can see right through you. “At times I did.”

“What do you think about riding off into the mountains?” he whispers, leaning in further. 

You long to embrace him, and feel his fingers on your waist give a little caress. You swallow. 

“Would you chop wood every night and grow a beard?” you ask. 

“For a couple nights, darling. Sleep under the stars with me. We can count them together.”

His words curl around you, squeezing your heart. 

“Don’t make fun,” you retort, stepping back. 

You long for a cigarette, stealing his, looking away because you can no longer stand to see his piercing eyes. You smoke as you fall into silent companionship. You wish you could lean your head onto his shoulder. You’ve never done that while dancing, never wanted to with anyone until now. 

“I meant it,” he says, and you close your eyes briefly, knowing this already. 

“We’re trying to do the decent thing, Robert,” you whisper. 

Your mask only slips with him and you can’t do it again, you can’t risk it. You’re too bruised. You think about healing from this and know it will be another long battle. He will never, ever leave Kitty. There will always be other women with him. 

As you separate when the song finishes, you fix a smile to your face and return to Mary and Barb, snatching up your drink. You drain it and immediately go in search for another. 

To hell with it all. 

a/n: It's been so long. I don't expect many people to read this. If you've got this far, you deserve the world. Here's hoping it's not as long of a wait for the next part. Offline everything has been kicking my ass his year.

taglist: @indulgence-be-thy-name, @forgottenpeakywriter, @amiets2@dilfsffx (hmu if you’d like to be added)

[jinstronaut]

a taehyung a week until he's released ♥

week 11/52 (cr. namuspromised) for @jkvjimin ✨

[nightbornfeyre]

If you think Feyre is an unreliable narrator just because the story is in first person, you’re not actually reading the story — you’re projecting onto it.

There’s a huge difference between bias (normal) and unreliable narration (purposefully misleading).

-------------------------------------‐-------------------In literature, an unreliable narrator is a narrator who intentionally misleads or distorts the truth of the story. It's often done on purpose by the author to create mystery or plot twists — think of books like Gone Girl (Amy), The Girl on the Train (Rachel), or Fight Club (the unnamed narrator). These narrators lie, omit truths, or hallucinate.

Feyre is not doing that.

She’s telling the story from her perspective, and while she has feelings and flaws (like every human being), her narration is actually in perfect alignment with what Sarah J. Maas herself says about the story.

Example after example proves it:

•In Chapter 15 of ACOMAF, Feyre reflects:

|> "I’m thinking that I was a lonely, hopeless person, and I might have fallen in love with the first thing that showed me a hint of kindness and safety."

She realizes that her love for Tamlin was rooted in loneliness and trauma, not in real partnership.

In an interview, Sarah J. Maas confirms exactly that:

> "Feyre had always needed to take care of her family, and suddenly, Tamlin was the first person who ever prioritized her. It was easy for her to fall in love — but she didn’t quite see the red flags."

•In Chapter 30, Feyre reflects again while training with Cassian:

> "Maybe those things [love, happiness, lust] had blinded me too. Maybe they’d been a blanket over my eyes about the temper, the need for control..."

She’s critical, self-aware, and grows from it — exactly as Maas intended.

•Another strong proof: Feyre thinks that Elaine is the strongest sister because she still looks at the world with hope. Later, Sarah J. Maas says verbatim in an interview:

> "Elaine has a different kind of strength. Hope is stronger than hate."

Even smaller details match: Feyre mentions spending lots of time in her father’s office talking about spices or how terrible her mother was, and Nesta later confirms this memory from her own perspective — without contradiction.

----------–-‐-----‐----------------------------------------------

If Feyre’s point of view were truly unreliable, these characterizations wouldn’t match so precisely with what the author herself says.

Sarah J. Maas is speaking through Feyre, and Feyre is speaking directly to the reader.

Being emotional isn’t being unreliable. It’s being human.

And if you say Feyre is unreliable just because her story is told in first person, then you would have to question every first-person narrator:

•Katniss from The Hunger Games (is she lying about how awful the Games and the Capitol are because she hates them?)

•Hazel Grace from The Fault in Our Stars (is her experience of cancer fake because it's emotional?)

•Claire from Outlander (is her love for Jamie an exaggeration?)

•Violet from Fourth Wing (is she unreliable just because she’s terrified of death?)

And hundreds more...

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

First-person POV doesn’t mean the narrator is unreliable. It means we see the world through their eyes — their emotions, their trauma, their healing, their love. That's not deception.

That's storytelling.

"canon isn't ACTUALLY canon"

...

then what is?

i'm sorry but this is ridiculous. feyre's not wearing "rose coloured glasses" that make everything she says unreliable. what the author writes is canon, not what you decide to pull out of your ass.

[fjordfolk]

puppy fever, might be terminal

[tifa-simp]

Theory time!

Ok, so I made a post (here) about how frequently Tifa's "I'm sick of it all!" scene is brought up, the last time it makes an appearance is in Tifa's trial in the ToTA. But now I think about the other trials more and have this thought:

What if Tifa's trial and Cloud's trial were switched?

Firstly, let's take a look at Tifa's trial.

(Source)

As mention above, Tifa's trial stands out to me due to the anomalies appear in it: young Tifa, young Cloud and Brian.

Brian is the vision of the past, like Myrna to Barret, Hojo to Red, Ifalna to Aerith, Jessie, Tifa and Barret to Cloud. (Yuffie's case is different). But unlike Myrna, who Barret can only interact with the body according to the timeline (whole arm when she's alive, 1 arm lost when she died), or Ifalna, who Aerith can't interact with her current body. Tifa can touch Brian just fine despite being adult.

Young Cloud looks like a mimic of Tifa memory like Brian at first. But he seems to have a mind of his own than a mere copy. He has terrified expression when he doesn't see Tifa, which didn't happen in real memory. He still lingers in Nibelheim accident memory, where he doesn't belong. Not only that, he even guides her to Brian like a puppet.

Young Tifa is the only one interacts with Tifa. She shows off her dress, smiles in a uncanny way, acts on her own and disappears without involving in her intended memory.

So, it's safe to assume there's more than 1 force behind Tifa's trial other than the temple's power. Something can change the memories and make the people in the illusion act on their own. Later I'll discuss more about the nature of the trial compared to the rest.

Now let's analyze Cloud's trial.

Cloud's trial is actually pretty standard. If I have to make a comparison, his trial is most similar to Barret's:

Both has 2 events. Barret has his daily life with Myrna and after the Shinra attack. Cloud has the first bombing mission and the plate fall.

Both have their body transform according to the memories. Barret regains his arm and then lost it. Cloud has the bomb with him.

Both experience both events in 1st person.

Only difference is that while Barret's memory plays till the end, Cloud's memory is interrupted by, you guess it, Sephiroth, who is shown to be behind the illusion in Cloud's trial. You can see him transform from Tifa back to himself.

So we can guess that the trial is directed or heavily influenced by Sephiroth- a being doesn't belong to the temple.

Now, let's take a step back and look at how each trial operate and the meaning they carry.

All trials have at least 1 of 3 traits:

Everyone has to revisit a replica of their old memory.

There'll be someone from the past that acts like a "guide" signaling the memory being shown: Hojo, Myrna, Sonon, Ifalna, Elymra, Brian, kid Cloud and Tifa, Barret, Biggs, Jessie,...

The body will change depending on which memory is being played.

Now, why does Tifa stands out the most to me?

Not only she has 2 different memories, but both of them are wrong

There's no star in the water tower memory, and there's no corpses in the Nibelheim accident memory.

(Note: there's a minor error in Cloud's trial, too. In the bombing mission, there's no one in the room where the bomb is set, but in the trial, there are a couple of strangers and Biggs. Yuffie trial doesn't quite play 100% like the real event either.)

2. Tifa is the only one whose "guides" act independently and disobey the memories timeline. Young Cloud wasn't supposed to be in Nibelheim accident.

Tifa is the only one whose guide can break the 4th wall - young Tifa. Everyone else have to "roleplay" their old selves, or else the guides won't be aware of their presence (Aerith). Young Tifa not only acknowledges Tifa, but she also lures Tifa to the water tower instead of playing her part like other guides. It's almost like young Tifa was waiting for adult Tifa, like a trap.

There's only one person who fulfills both young Cloud and Tifa' characteristics: someone knows that they're in a trial and someone appears in memory that doesn't contain them: Sephiroth in Cloud's trial.

3. Tifa is the only one whose body both remains unchanged and can interact with the guide without stopping the illusion. Yuffie doesn't change, but she can't touch Sonon, same with Aerith with Ifalna and kid Aerith.

So yes, I can confidently say that Tifa's trial is the most unique among all the trials.

It's finally time for the million dollars question:

What if Tifa's trial and Cloud's trial were swapped?

What if Tifa has to face the first bomb mission that she refused to join but still has to carry the responsible for it?

What if Tifa has to face the plate drop again?

Put Tifa in 1st person pov in the trial and force her watch the failure of her effort to salvage the damage Avalanche has done to sector 7 and witness Jessie's death again, that will absolutely destroy her. The guilt has already eaten her inside since Remake, and it still haunts her till Rebirth.

Tifa never stops thinking about what happened in Midgard, about sector 7 and Avalanche. Rebirth never forgets to remind us of Remake through Tifa. The Nibelheim massacre is a disaster due to the wrong person in the wrong place. To Tifa, it's a misfortune. But the bombing and plate fall are the real challenges to her morals. She couldn't stop the bomb from hurting innocent people, and she couldn't stop the plate fall despite having both refused and taken part in them. Cloud's trial is a nightmare to Tifa in a much deeper, more personal level. Experience that trial would leave her heartbroken, just like the others, instead of feeling rage.

How about Cloud? Let's go back to Remake again. In the very first chapter, what happened in Cloud and Sephiroth' first encounter?

And for the first half of Rebirth, what has Sephiroth insisted on telling Cloud?

His first love, his village, his parent. Just-like-Tifa's-trial. And these tactics worked incredibly well on Cloud. Both times, he reacts exactly how Seph wants him to act. But isn't there another event in the future that also has all of these elements and more? That's right.

It's not time to fully break Cloud yet.

WHAT IF Sephiroth has the power to control the temple of ancient trials? What if he has switched Tifa and Cloud real trials with each other to delay the real blow? That would explain the similar glitch and trace of outsider's influence in their trials that can all trace back to Seph. Now Tifa just gets confused and angry at everything, and Cloud just deludes himself that he's ok even more.

Don't forget in Gongaga LS, Seph said this to Tifa.

If he was there in the LS the whole time, maybe he had a glimpse of Tifa's memory and knew about the water tower. So he constructs a false water tower with a fake Tifa to mess with the real one. That'd explain why there's no stars in that memory. Cos Sephiroth couldn't see what the sky was like in Gongaga LS. That'd also explain why there's no one in the village. Just like the illusion Seph showed Cloud in Remake, he doesn't care about the victims in Nibelheim. He only keeps Brian there to add salt to the wound. He let Tifa touch Brian to remind her of that night. It'd also explain the strange attitude of young Cloud. Even tho we don't sense any malice from him, in fact, he's the only one who helps Tifa. But it's not hard to catch that he looks extremely anxious and lost when he can't see Tifa. And when she does talk to him, he acts like a puppet who follows order. His face when he points to Brian is so emotionless, completely different from what he looked like just a second ago. Almost like he'd being kidnapped to a strange place and forced to take order. Was the anxiety sign of real Cloud spirit trying to resist?

If we see Tifa and Cloud' trials under the lens that they're distorted by Sephiroth, you'll see why Cloud's trial is more standard compared to Tifa's. Cos it's supposed to be her actual trial, designed by the temple. But now it's given to Cloud, aka someone isn't qualified (remember, he doesn't have the red light at first), Tifa is left with a fabricated trial made by an outer force with the intention to mock her. Consider that later, Tifa doubts her own recollection of her childhood with Cloud and the Nibelheim accident. And Cloud has to face the death of Aerith, which affects him so much that his mind plagues his senses into seeing things others can't see. I think they all line up pretty well.

Sephiroth holds all the cards when it comes to Nibelheim and Cloud's mental health, so he wouldn't want to use the trump card too soon. Whatever happened in Gongaga, Seph has laid groundwork for Northern crater, even went so far to warn Tifa that she has no impact on Cloud now. The trial fits in perfectly with his long record of tormenting Tifa throughout Rebirth.

What do you think about this theory? I would love to hear more opinion on this.

Thank you for taking your time to read this long rant.

Tifa's trial in the temple is so confusing but so interesting to analyze. The fact little Tifa, little Cloud and Brian feel like 3 separate entities instead of belong in the same illusion group like the rest of trials really sparks a lot of questions about how much of her trial is the temple's doing and/or if there's other third part's involvement?

I feel like her trial has a lot of setup for part 3, but I also think part 3 won't out right answer the questions we have with her trial, we'll have to gather informations and piece the answer together, just like what Tifa does with Cloud.

[flowersforthemachines]

Lucanis's Logbook, 6

Relationships: Female Rook/Lucanis Word count: 3300 (oneshot, complete) Rating: General Audiences Main tags: Diary/Journal, Established Relationship, Mid-canon, Missing scene, Angst

Excerpt and summary:

We are back from Tearstone Island. Rook is gone. Davrin and Bellara are gone. I don't know what else to say.

Lucanis’s journal kept throughout the time between Rook’s disappearance at Tearstone Island and the day she’s rescued from the Fade.

[tibli]

Regardless of how you feel about the action, the assassinations of Shinzo Abe and Brian Thompson have got to be some of the most materially effective assassinations in recent memory. Shit changed almost immediately in response.

Usually, changing societal problems isn't so simple, and one has to dismantle those issues piece by piece, over a long period of time.

But sometimes, one influential person's murder makes all the other people in the same position scared and so they start immediately trying to fix their bullshit so they don't face the same fate.

[mariocki]

Gareth Thomas returns - still running a car hire service, now inexplicably called Tom Lewis - in Public Eye: The Bankrupt (6.1, Thames, 1972)

[idolbound]

I think the fandom's hate for DA2 often forgets that the devs were forced into a like, 15 month development cycle by EA. It was pretty clear in how the game's levels were designed and reused, and it couldn't be polished into something more. But, what we got was a micro-level scale story with macro-scale consequences to the overall story of the series; it was a personal journey of an everyday person and all of their friends living in a shitty city, enduring the impossible stories of grief and change, all while dealing with the overarching consequences of the conflicts caused by a religious-political institution in real time.

Also, DA2 gave us Meredith, who is, by and large, not a god or supernatural entity, but just a woman, who was allowed far too much power that went entirely unchecked during her reign. It's a reflection of real world politicians and military leaders, which therefore makes her the most realistic type of villain in the series (and that's long before they gave her the red lyrium idol to turn her into a Boss Fight™).

Ultimately the other aspects of the games in this series - the level design, the combat, music, etc. - are all going to be subjective, especially when in comparison to the other games / your own personal preferences, but to say that it's just "objectively bad" when the story in and of itself is a departure from the other games where you get put into the role of Designated Hero™, whereas Hawke, for the most part, is Just Some Guy (gender neutral) (and this is also why I enjoy Rook in a similar-ish kind of way, where you accidentally become important at work), is really missing the point of what they were trying to do. I fully stand by the point that if Kirkwall got the DAV environment treatment today, it would be way more popular than it is.

[k2ulhu]

thinking about that line in existence when mulder is asked how he found scully and william without coordinates and he says "there was a light. I followed it" and I really love that line because just...look. the man has been chasing lights in the sky since he was 12 years old. he's been running after ufos trying to find his sister, trying to find the truth, searching for a meaning in it all. he has been following lights his entire life and they led him to scully. they led him to his son. they led him to his family. like he always wanted to believe they would.

[designernishiki]

it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now