#innumerable useful offers
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oh no i shouldnt have listened to the TAZ forgetting sequence rn. it has ignited my antipsych rage
bc i recently became aware that by not treating my adhd with stimulants a psychiatrist has in all likelihood doomed me to early onset dementia. if i can even live long enough (without the help they are allowed to withhold) to get there. and i think they each deserve the worst anyone could do to them, because if they didnt they'd've been fired or imprisoned
#my great grandmother had alzheimers. i was looking at her face as she had a moment of lucidity and remembered me#and then wept bc she hadnt. and these ppl are making us go through that just so they can enslave more ppl#the only reason i have even the slightest hesitation to say they deserve all the pain one can feel is that i dont feel its enough#they deserve the mental anguish they have left the ppl they call patients in. and to know its for nothing. and to be pitied by no one#and to have the expectation on them that they should suddenly rise up from under circumstances beyond their control. with no help#they should ofc be offered drugs that feel like poison but make their suffering easier for others to tolerate#and i think when they try to kill themselves it should be botched for them. bc they've put innumerous ppl thru that as well#sorry. maybe you can tell i got pretty mad & upset. 🙃
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Hey listen. A bunch of people will now try to convince the public that the killing of Brian Thompson was ethically wrong. They will try to use the same old tired arguments: that murder is always wrong, that we should stand against political violence in all forms, that CEOs are people too, etc.
Now, you probably won’t fall for all that bullshit, but a lot of people might. Here is what you need to tell them in return - it’s not guaranteed to change their minds, but every time you offer someone a chance to accept the truth you’re making it ever so more likely to take it.
In philosophy, the idea that people should never do certain “bad” things (e.g. killing) is called deontology. The thing is, unlike utilitarianism (which states people should choose actions that create the most wellbeing in society), deontology is inherently flawed as a morality system.
See, only through deontology can people end up finding themselves having to choose outcomes that will lead to more suffering in the world; think, the trolley problem. Now, ask yourself, what kind of morality system expects its followers to selfishly pick the choice that ensures their own moral purity, even if it dooms the wellbeing of possibly hundreds or millions of others?
Understanding this, you might ask yourself: who benefits from having deontology be the crux of understanding morality for so many people? Who benefits uplifting rules like the Ten Commandments as the ultimate guideline to ethics, as opposed to what it was in the original context of it’s religion - a simple list of base laws meant to instruct a small group of escaped slaves several thousand years ago?
The answer is twofold. First, there are the authoritarians, who wish to instill obedience by making people believe that breaking their rules, no matter how justified, is wrong. Secondly, there are the bystanders, who watch nervously as the world crumbles around them, but excuse their inaction by latching onto a false belief that they are still somehow better than the people who are doing something about it in a way they find aesthetically displeasing.
Therefore, it is imperative to look at the world through a utilitarian perspective, and judge every incident like so. Brian Thompson is part of a very exclusive club; he had wronged so many people so severely that the suffering caused to him and his loved ones by his murder is still innumerably outmatched by the joy his unlikely retribution will give the literal millions of people he’s wronged.
Remember, by similar logic it is still very unethical to kill 98% of people, so think of all the choices Thompson had to make to put himself in the top 0.1% of the 2% of people who’s murders can be justified. In a better society, a society that prevents and punishes exploitation, it would be hard to even conceive of a murder that could ever be so righteous.
In fact, in a society that uses classism and bigotry to block people from achieving their fullest potential through non-violent means, we must celebrate those who risk their lives and legal rights to push humanity forward, bringing to justice the true criminals of decency.
TLDR: Brian had it coming.
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➳ my soul searches
--͙[naoya zenin x female! reader]-͙-
╰┈➤ word count; 6512
╰┈➤ rundown; you might be ignorant about anything concerning naoya zenin but somehow he knows everything about you.
╰┈➤ caution; mean! naoya, DUBIOUS CONSENT, virginity loss (mentions of blood), dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, no prep, choking, use of the words slut, whore, bitch (degradation), MISOGYNISTIC ideologies mentioned, manhandling, 1 thigh smack, cum eating, cunnilingus, fellatio (head pushing & rough), belly bulge, throat bulge, size kink, mentions of fingering, hair is referred to as 'cascading' on one occasion. sex on a futon (just so it won't be confusing).
if there are any more warnings i should add please let me know. not proof read!
naoya is awful.
he is a horrible man.
everyone knows it.
whether it be due to the countless stories everyone gossips about or witnessing firsthand the vicious things he does.
you were privy to outrageous hearsay spreading but you did not care enough to understand.
as far as you know, he is a powerful man.
and in your clan, you bow down to powerful men.
you have been fed lies that you do not have much to offer.
women were responsible for wifely duties and child bearing.
it is all you learned your entire life.
you are surprised when there is news of a member of the zenin clan's impending visitation. the people within your district make countless preparations and take any precaution necessary to ensure they meet naoya's standard. the last thing they want is to face his acrimony.
there are rumours of a potential alliance and it seems exceedingly promising to be closely associated with such a powerful family.
the day of his arrival, everything looks auspicious. you are shocked at the innumerable women adorned in luxurious clothing and decked in lavish jewellery.
you certainly do not understand all the fuss about him. you swore everyone hated him.
the welcome is extravagant and curiosity gets the best of you because you find yourself tip toeing to catch sight of him.
he is definitely not what you expected. he is young, his expression is all too smug. you never had the opportunity to see him before but he is gorgeous. in every sense of the word.
he is the definition of it.
sharp narrow eyes were lined, push pink lips with a barely visible cupid's bow and a straight nose although the tip was slightly upturned. his brows were thin and straight. if anyone looked for long enough and he smiled you could see the indents of dimples. he was truly pretty.
naoya tells the head of your clan that an alliance will only be formed provided he receives something. that whatever he wishes must be granted to him for congruity in return.
somehow, someway he pinpoints you in a crowd of too many people.
you were astonished when his stony eyes found yours. you try to tell yourself, you are not the one. it must be someone else. it has to be! you are proven wrong when your mother grips your arm and drags you up to him.
she bows, her hand roughly shoving your head down while you fidget. his stare is heavy, it makes you want to hide away. your parents practically offer you to him on a silver platter.
your eyes look everywhere but at him while he requests a room. unabashedly he speaks for everyone to witness.
his fingers find your chin, tipping your head back to look over your face. he towers over you. "dress her up." his voice is raspy and deep. he speaks to your mother though he does not spare her a glance.
you are speechless, you can only imagine what it means. an uncontrollable amount of thoughts pile into your head as your mother takes you away.
virginity means everything to a young girl like you. you need to be one to get married. it is your clan's way of life so why do your parents not care? your mother dresses you in the finest silk, something they could never afford before. she knots your hair in a bun and it hurts when she pulls at the strands.
decorative pins are stuck into your hair, some nicking your scalp. she drapes a heavy chain around your neck and squeezes your hand as she forces bracelets onto your wrists.
you look just like every other woman that dolled up for naoya zenin in anticipation of his attention.
you realise your parents do not care for your dignity as they usher you into an intricately decorated room.
they crave the validation of everyone else more than they care about you. you always knew that but you never thought they would go to this extent.
"be good and listen to everything he says." your mom commands. she shoves you to your knees on the thick layers of satin.
"this is for everyone's betterment." your father adds like it would make any of this right. you have no choice in the matter.
they were giving you up for naoya to do whatever he pleased because they were greedy for admiration.
you worry what it meant for you afterwards. you worry what people would think once you left these four walls.
the door slams shut upon their exit, you nervously shift. you wonder if you could run away. the weight of the jewellery feels uncomfortable, the clothes are so thick you swear you are sweating. they seem impossible to do anything in.
it feels like an eternity when naoya enters. his broad back faces you as he closes the door. his presence is intimidating, his aura is immense.
you swallow hard.
you are only to speak when spoken to.
yet you want to ask what took him so long.
why did you chose me?
what are you going to do to me?
you cannot question him. that is not your place.
you are sitting, hands anxiously twitching where they rest on your thighs. your eyes drop to the floor as he faces you.
he draws closer, your breathing stops as he circles you. he does it slowly, intently like he wants to memorise you from every angle.
you feel like prey, you are awaiting your predator to strike. there is absolutely no escape. his gaze sears into your being.
in a way he is scary. "strip." his deep voice instructs. your body tenses, breathing more laboured. you are unmoving as he steps closer. he cups your head, it is softer than you expected. he tilts you back to look at him, you are made aware of his bulge right in front of your face.
it is when he grips your hair, disheveling your bun that you realise it is all pretence. you shriek as he forcefully lifts you to your knees. the way you reach for his hand is futile because you cannot stop him no matter how hard you try.
"don't make me speak twice, y/n." you wonder how he knew your name. you were no one. you were not anyone important to this clan or world. "now take your fucking clothes off before i do it myself."
he shoves you back, you just barely brace yourself. his nimble fingers reach for the laces on his robe as he undoes them with ease. tears prick your eyes, you shakily tug at your bracelets. your movements are frantic enough to send them scattered across the floor. you rip the necklace from your throat, it stings where it nicks your skin.
your hands endlessly tremble when you pull off the layers of heavy fabric draped on you. you are too busy removing your clothing to see that he is already bare.
once you are rid of anything that preserves your modesty, you fold your arms to hide your body. a man has never seen you like this and you never thought the first time would be under this circumstance.
naoya's eyes trail over you, he is already hard. it is borderline painful. he was hard from simply thinking about you obediently waiting for him.
you feel his presence behind you, he lowers himself to his knees. his hands reach for your shoulders first. they are large and rough, they elicit goosebumps across your skin as he trails them down to caress your arms.
he pulls you into him, the hardness of his chest meeting your back. his arms surround your body and you tense at the feeling of his heated cock brushing your skin. his dexterous fingers remove the pins from your hair, he undoes the bun to allow the strands to cascade down your back. he brushes it over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your nape.
you are shocked by the softness of them. he trails more kisses down the upper part of your spine. it is mind muddling.
"i can tell you haven't fucked before." you jolt at the sound of his gruff voice. his warm breath meets your skin and you shiver. his forearm comes around your front to keep you flush against him.
"spread your legs, let me see your cunt." he speaks without any shame. you hesitate and his displeasure is evident because his palm connects with the flesh of your thigh so hard that you shriek. your skin stings.
you have no choice but to open your legs for him. he slips his hands between them, his wide palm cupping your cunt.
you cannot breathe. it is all so overwhelming. you notice the evident veins on his lower arm as his hand covers your sex completely. it dawns on you that you have never had this intimacy before. you have never even touched where he would be.
he clicks his tongue, his presence makes you anxious. everything he does makes you tense.
he grimaces, you are not wet. not in the slightest.
naoya removes his hand to spit into his fingers, the fluid is pressed to your clit as he strokes it. he does not like the way you bite down on your lip to muffle your sounds. he hates it.
he rolls the bundle of nerves, pinching it before he slowly trails his fingers down your slit. the tip of his finger prods your entrance, gliding along it though he does not enter.
your smaller hands grip his forearm and for some reason it makes him hug your body tighter.
you breathe shakily in anticipation of his next move. it is a foreign feeling to be caressed but you can hardly complain. it is the furthest thing from unpleasant. it annoys you how good it feels.
"i'm shoving my cock in here." he huffs. the length of his finger coaxing through your lips has you writhing.
"going to stick my dick in this little hole and make you my bitch." his words are vulgar. the obscenity of his remarks have you furrowing your brows.
"it sounds good, right? having your pussy filled to the brim. i'll even fuck my cum into you." his jaw presses into your temple and you unsurely blink. he is so big, you feel like you are tucked into him.
he pinches your clit and you choose to focus on that rather than what he is saying. it feels good, enough to make you squirm. each time he does it, your cunt leaks with liquid. his entire palm strokes up and down, smearing sticky liquid over your cunt.
"naoya." you mewl. he has you spread open on his lap as he strokes your dripping pussy. he knows one thing for certain, your pretty voice forming his name is the greatest thing he has ever heard. he loves the sounds you make because of him.
you are so wet now, you are drenched and leaking. the sticky liquid trails out of your slit endlessly. his fingers steadily collect it and your lips part when he pulls away. your eyes follow his hand as he brings the sodden liquid digits near his mouth.
it is dirty. it is gross, it must be. somehow, you find yourself entranced. his tongue slips out to lave over his drenched palm.
"so fucking messy." he grits his teeth, he tilts his head to you. his wet hand grips your jaw, "you always taste so good." he presses his mouths to yours.
you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue as he aggressively kisses you. despite your inexperience you try to replicate him.
his expression looks irritated as he wetly separates from you. he forces you onto your back, leaning over you. his eyes glimpse at your cunt and they trail up your body.
you are on display for his prying eyes. he gropes your breasts, kissing and licking down your sternum. you are delirious as he sucks on your skin. he kisses all the way up to your jaw before he covers your mouth with his.
he licks into your mouth until you are a breathless mess.
"i'm not prepping you. m'not." he squeezes your jaw. "the first thing i'm stuffing in your pussy is my cock and it's gonna hurt. it'll hurt a lot but you deserve it." he airily speaks, his eyes dark.
you stare in confusion, panic sets in your chest. what wrong did you do? you wonder what warranted having your virginity stripped with no compassion.
you were more than aware he did not care for you.
as far as you know, you are suppose to pride yourself in your virginity. you were to save it for your husband and no one else. the man between your legs is a stranger, the man telling you such nasty things is nothing to you.
you swallow hard as you stare at his intimidating size. the head of his cock is purplish and dripping pre cum. his shaft is thick and it seems to go on forever. you wonder how it is suppose to fit inside you.
naoya grasps his aching cock to tap the head on your clit. you try to move away, you really do but he is so strong. he is completely unmoving. he coats his tip in your slick before pressing into your hole.
despite how tight you are, despite how big and thick he is. you shove at his abdomen, his abs flexing under your palms. "naoya please." tears stream down your cheeks but he relents. he cups your thighs to bring them over his and spread you open.
his rough fingers find your perked clit, rubbing it in aggressive circles. you hate to admit it but it feels too good. your hands clamp down on your mouth to mute the moans escaping you.
you gush on him with no fanfare. this entire circumstance makes you feel like an easy slut. he presses more into you, reaching the ridge where his cock and shaft meet. your legs jolt the further his girth fills you.
your insides squeeze and clamp down trying to deny his intrusion, you make naoya crazy. "fucking stop." he hisses. you are like a vice around his pulsing cock.
he says what you should be saying. you should be telling him to stop but you do not. you should be screaming and crying, telling him to get off of you but that is the last thing in your head.
it feels good. more of him is pressed into you and your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. it is an unfamiliar feeling but the pressure in your abdomen is more pleasurable than painful. you find yourself adjusting, you are still so tight that naoya loses his mind.
he presses down on your clit an inch accompanying the motion and you shriek at the feeling. he continually rocks his hips, slowly coaxing over your bundle of nerves. your hands find purchase in the sheets, panting while you try to gather your bearings.
the stimulation has you fidgeting, it has you moaning his name endlessly. your thighs tremble on either side of him and your expression is contorted at the feeling. he looks down at your body, tongue slipping out to coat his lips and you find yourself wishing it was in your mouth, on your skin. anywhere you wanted him.
he leans down, his muscles rippling and the flesh along his abs bunching in little rolls, his biceps are almost as big as your head. you feel like he was strong enough to lift you with one finger. he seemed that way, strong and mighty in all that he did.
his hips shallowly move to thrust the portion of his length he has managed to shove into you. "you're fucking me." you stutter, your voice barely audible. you have never spoken those words, have never even conjured them up.
naoya's eyes flash, his large hand spanning over your stomach, trailing between your breasts and then gripping your throat. "m'not. but i can, i can fuck you so deep you feel it here." he squeezes the sides of your neck, eyes glancing to your leaking cunt that soaks him even though he has not gotten to the hilt.
the warmth and tightness of you makes him ache to have his entire cock deep in your pussy but you are little and you are looking at him with the sweetest eyes.
he wants to hurt you, he wants to make you cry but you are so adorable. "i can fuck you and have your belly bulging every. single. time. i shove my cock in your dripping cunt."
you have never had someone speak to you like that. you never heard those words strung together nor spoken in such a depraved tone.
you wonder how he could be this handsome. you wonder what led him here, with you.
"i'll make this pussy mine whether you want it or not but you want it, don't you? you want me to fuck you, you want me to have you shaped to my cock and mine alone" he pants. you nod your head, you swear there is cotton between your ears, there is empty space perhaps but there is surely not a working brain.
not after he painted such an image of him fucking you like you were his and turned it to mush. "say it. say it all, say you want naoya zenin to fuck you." you whine, he squeezes your throat, his grip so strong you swore he could crush it to dust.
you whine and babble and your hips move to get more of the stimulation as he shallowly fucks you. your hands find his broad shoulders, just barely gripping them and he leans down. no you could never move someone like him, he let you. he conceded because it is you.
his face is so close, he is composed and collected while you are a mess beneath him. "i want naoya zenin to fuck me" your voice is broken by a moan as he forces more of himself into you.
you whine in his face "i want him to claim me, break me. i only want him in my cunt." your voice is a warbled mess and for some reason naoya did not expect you to be so nasty. to tell him those things. claiming you is one thing but breaking you?
he would do more than break you. he would wreck every inch of you, destroy and decimate it all, there would be no way to return you to what you were.
"then loosen up, slut." you cannot mute the scream that escapes you when the thickness of his girth is pushed entirely into your walls. your legs desperately hook on his hips, so tense they feel sore.
it burns, it hurts and stings but it feels unbelievably good, it did not feel like something you could fathom in a real world only in fantasy.
why, why, why? why does it feel so good? you had no expectations of sex. absolutely none.
when the women spoke they did not entertain such topics. was this what they did behind closed doors? did such depravity remain hidden while they portrayed themselves as saints?
he is so hot, you feel him everywhere. he is nestled inside you like he belongs there, he throbs into your gummy walls.
his large palm graces your tummy, gliding to your lower abdomen. he presses down and you sigh in unison. your eyes wildly look down. "look where my cock is in you, you really are too small to take it."
he is not your husband, he should not have stuffed his cock all the way inside you that his head impresses in your stomach. what right did he have to lay claim?
it does not matter, not anymore. he has your cunt wrapped around him and your body does not protest. no, your body welcomes him with endless slick. it yearns and begs for him. it felt like you were just waiting for him to come and take you.
he pulls out until only his leaking head is enclosed by your cunt. his expression is pleased at the sight of red streaks along him. "got your blood all over my cock. y'know what that means?"
your head is too empty to hear, to function. you cannot quite make out his words but the sound of his voice makes you mewl. you are soaking him again and again.
"means you're all mine." you eyes roll as he shallowly pumps into you. you swear you cannot see beyond him.
his hands grope the perimeter of your waist. "i haven't even fucked you yet and you already look like a brain dead whore." he coos but his eyes are dark.
he is caught up in the sight of your dripping slit stretched around the girth of his cock. his strong thighs flex, you shriek when he starts pounding into you.
naoya bullies his cock into your pussy that will not stop pulsing around him. you are so tight he sees stars. your insides are gooey and warm. he wants to be wrapped in you forever.
his abs strain, his cock is coated in your juices. slick strands are covering him. the more he slams into you the nastier sounds your pussy makes.
"shouldn't be this tight or feel this good." he huffs, he uses your body like a sex doll. he holds you down and thrusts into you so hard your skin stings. every loud collision of his flesh with yours hurts.
"you're my slut, fuck, you're the only bitch i want." your entire body shakes with the weigh of his movements. your eyes water and you fist the soaked sheets.
naoya looks too good above you. the sweat on his forehead dampens his hair and his muscles shift every time he sinks back inside you.
you are delirious, he did as he said he would, he makes your stomach bulge over and over again. he turns your brain into useless chum.
your cunt sputters liquid, his movements are flurried and aggressive. your sex loudly squelches. you never thought it would feel this good.
every vein on his cock slides along your gummy insides, you feel like you are about to pass out. "a whore like you doesn't deserve to cum but i need to feel you gripping me. i need to know how tight your pussy gets when you're cumming." his fingers find your buzzing clit.
"m'not a whore."
"you're getting fucked like one."
all you can focus on is him, he rolls your clit with experience. a part of you hates that despite him being nothing to you. your vision is blurred by tears but blinking them away allows you to see him.
his body seems like a sculpture. every muscle is evident for prying eyes. beads of sweat leak down his temple and his jaw is locked. he looks unreal. you wish he was yours although you do not know him. you have no relation but he is stretching out your cunt and making it his.
your hand grips his, head thrown back as you writhe on the sheets. you breathe in exasperation as his much larger fingers intertwine with yours. he is holding your hand. he is holding it while he pummels your insides.
you are too sensitive and too overwhelmed. when you cum, your entire body trembles. your eyes squeeze tightly and you clamp down on him like a vice. you cream on his cock your entire body coated in sweat while you shake.
the sight of you throws him over the edge.
"shit, fuck, no one is as good as you. no one." he grits his teeth, eyes fluttering. his length is soaked in you, strands coating him and the harder he pounds the more frothy cream collects at his base.
"want you like this forever." his body covers you completely. his arms wrap around your waist to hold you tight to him. all his weight is pressed into you, desperately thrusting his hips as he chases his release.
despite how you whine and cry at the excessive stimulation. your nails digging into his flesh and scratching lines down his skin.
you seem to mark another area of his back every time he pounds into you.
his movements have your body jerking and his muscles flexing. your cunt feels like it is forcefully drawing the orgasm from him, his teeth grit and his eyes flicker as they threaten to roll back.
he is so powerful but right now he looks like he is losing it. his mouth roughly presses into yours, his tongue and spit in excess and his hips stutter for a moment before he slams into you so hard your cunt squelches.
his hips rock as he stays flush to you and for the first time you are getting filled up. it is even hotter than his cock, it sears along your walls, endlessly pouring and leaking as he grows soft.
"you take it so well for a virgin." he pants before his lips claim yours in a nasty kiss.
he says that like he has not already stripped that title from you.
his weight crushes you beneath him but somehow it is comforting. somehow you like it. you like that there is no space between you and him.
your arms reach around his neck, tears streaked down your cheeks while your mouth desperately returns his kiss.
he briefly parts before leaning back in. it is unfair that he has everything. he is too pretty and he seems to be good at everything.
you whine when he sits up on his knees, your hands losing their grip on his muscles. his eyes train where his cock still fills you.
you wince while he slowly pulls out, the cum still dripping out of you. you feel empty without him.
he takes in the cum leaking from your used cunt. all he can think about is doing it again and again. without tire or care. a surprisingly gentle touch swipes your hair from your face before he strokes your cheek and leans down.
his soft lips though swollen softly move along yours. he breathes a bit more laboured as his hands touch and squeeze along your body and his kisses make their way from your neck to your sternum and tits.
you are panting while he trails open mouthed kisses on your skin. his eyes do not leave yours and they are so golden you swear they glow.
your body grows tense when he drifts lower than your belly and suddenly he is kissing right above your cum filled slit and your inner thighs.
"you're so soft." you did not expect it. was that a good thing? his breath is so close to your pussy, it is weird to think he was just inside you.
you squeal, a hand covering your mouth as his tongue swipes over your cunt. "naoya, that's dirty." your voice is muffled beneath your palm, all he does is clamp his mouth on your clit and suck.
laughing into your cunt before his tongue is gliding up and down your slit endlessly.
a man of his calibre was between your legs with his mouth in such a place. it did not make sense. his heated muscle slips into your pussy, saliva coating you in excess.
your feet lift onto the tip of your toes while you moan. you moan for naoya like you were made for it, made for him.
his fingers gently caress the back of your thighs, all while he sloppily sucks up your messy cunt.
he does not want to stop, his cum is inside of you, it is in your pussy.
he came there. he came within your silky walls and he will never stop thinking about it, about you. he pulls back, licking his lips and nipping the flesh of your thigh before trailing his tongue along your slit.
his cum is still seeping out despite the amount he lapped up from your hole. there are sticky strands of liquid on his jaw and mouth as he brings his face to yours
"it's not dirty. what's filthy, is that you let me fuck you like a cock hungry slut." his large palms grasp your tits while you are speechless.
"is that what you are, my cockslut?" you find yourself nodding your head, whimpering in agreement.
you just want to be something to him.
his thumb strokes over your lips while he grips your face, you are so much smaller his entire hand seems to hold it. "you think you can suck me off? get me nice and wet in that little mouth and make me cum?"
you stare up at him with the prettiest wide eyes. you were crying for so long. you cry so much it makes him hard. "i can." you softly whisper and naoya cannot help but kiss you sweetly.
he nips your lips, laving his tongue over them before he sits next to you.
you swallow, he helps you up by a firm grip on your upper arm. your head feels light.
you are surprised when his hand cups the back of your head and shoves down. his erect cock presses against your cheek. "c'mon, don't waste time."
your hand unsurely surrounds the base, you cannot believe something like this had managed to fit inside you. naoya sighs at the softness. your tongue clumsily laps at his slit, the taste of his cum and your juices filling your mouth.
your lips enclose just before his shaft, your mouth insanely warm it makes naoya pant. "take more of it, i don't fucking care if it's your first time." he gruffly says. you are perched on your knees with his cock in your mouth.
moments before you had never seen one in your life.
you are so unsure, you lower on him but the second his tip brushes the back of your throat you gag. you lurch, the muscles constricting around him.
you pull back frantically, coughing as you clutch your throat. naoya finds your eyes more teary. "so fuckin dramatic." he tuts.
his tip presses against the seam of your lips and you have no choice but to open up.
you really do try to be good. you try your hardest to take more but it seems never ending. you gag so much desperately trying to get him seated deep in your throat. but you can't.
that tight little throat of yours can hardly get even half of him in on your own.
"you're shit at this." he laughs airily. you are drooling so much it is insanely messy, he never had it like this before.
every bit of him says to bruise the back of your throat, to fist your hair and fuck into your mouth so that every inch of him feels the silky walls of your throat.
he listens.
at first, his fingers gently caress through your hair. it lasts for a second before he is pushing your head down. your throat constricts and he shudders. he cannot tell which liquid that drips onto his skin is your spit or tears.
he is vicious and rough. constantly bobbing your head along his cock regardless of how you choke. the sloppy noises are all he needs to get there. the feeling of your gooey throat objecting his forceful intrusion. your muscles resisting. "fuck you're such a good bitch. little baby throat s'taking it all."
his body tenses, hips stuttering to fuck into your mouth. he does not usually come this fast. he shoves you down until your lips surround his base. he swears he can see your throat bulging from his cock. your hot sticky saliva drip all over him as he shallowly ruts his hips.
naoya grits his teeth, moaning loudly before he spews cum down your throat. you jerk in confusion but he does not release you. your hands scramble. he feels you swallowing around him but it is not enough.
liquid spills past the perimeter of his cock.
he tugs you off, your mouth wetly separating with a sticky pop.
"you look pretty like this." your hair is knotted, tear streaks coat your cheeks, your lips are swollen from sucking his dick and his cum is spewed in your mouth in a sticky web. it drips down your jaw but he still kisses you.
still does it all sweetly and cups your cheeks as if he is a nice man.
you eagerly accept it. you kiss and kiss and his salty cum is messily exchanged. you are a breathless mess when he pulls away with spit still connecting you.
"so stupid." he shoves your forehead with his forefinger. you want to cry. he leaves you sitting while he lies on the sodden sheets.
it hurts to hear. you sniffle, looking at him. you let all this happen. you slept with him. this is not some lucid sex dream, it really occurred. he came in you, he touched you everywhere.
he had you in way a man never did before.
you are crying for a different reason now. when the lust that clouded your brain finally dispels you realise everything is ruined.
"do you have any idea what you've done?" tears are profusely coating your cheeks, you tug the blanket to your chest.
you are hiding your body as though he has not violated every inch of it. as if his desecration has not tainted you in the form of bruises and cum.
naoya breathes, his eyes rolling as he folds his arms under his head. "i fucked a bitch, s'all."
your face contorts in more pain. this was never supposed to be your life. you meant nothing to the man who was just inside you.
you were nothing to him. "i can't get married now."
naoya looks angry. the muscles in his arms flex, eyes flitting over to you.
in a second he sits up, the expanse of his palm covers your throat. it draws a sound of shock from you. his face is all too close and you wince at the flashes of him fucking you as they are forced into your mind.
how can you forget it? especially when he is at this proximity, when his hands were all over your body and now he simply held your neck.
his gaze flits downwards, he is angry without a doubt. it is hard to not see it when his skin is flushed red and his jaw is locked.
he rips the sheet from your body before he roughly shakes you.
your eyes flash in panic as you grip his tightening hand. "you have me and you want to marry some lowlife prick from your shitty clan?" he hisses into your face, his nose brushing yours over the nonexistent distance.
you gasp for air because he holds too tight. "you weren't a good fuck. not at all." his hand slips between your legs to cup your cum filled cunt and you blanch.
"you're just a prissy little virgin but you're pretty. i'll give it to you, you're gorgeous." without any warning his digits slide inside of you.
it is forceful and rough as he repeatedly thrusts his long fingers into the soaked walls of your pussy. you grit your teeth. it should not feel good. it should not but you cannot help the uninhibited movement of your hips.
your legs practically part for him on instinct despite how badly you want him to get away from you. that is what you want, right?
you should not want him and your eyes that are trailing all over his defined muscles should be looking to the heavens for some hope.
they should not be gleaming at his pretty features or his damp hair. "and you'll be one hell of a bitch but you gotta prove it to me before i marry you." marriage.
oh marriage, marriage, marriage.
it had been on your mind since you were a little girl. you have ached and dreamed and wished upon the stars for it to find you.
"how?" his brows tilt at your broken voice. he shoves you down until your head meets the wooden flooring and your back stings at the impact.
he is over you, his shadow casting along your figure. "let me fuck you. submit yourself to me alone. if ever you touch another man, i'll know."
his voice is deep, his expression dark. he is terrifying, you wonder how someone so pretty could look so horrific. you swallow hard.
"i'd kill him and i'd kill you." his eyes do not leave yours for a second. he brings your legs around his narrow waist, the weigh of his erection digging into the flesh of your inner thighs.
"but if you be good, i'll marry you. i'll take you away from this place."
you want so desperately to escape, you want so desperately to be anywhere but here. you want to be with him even if he is awful.
"will you marry me?" your fingers itch with the urge to draw him closer, your voice a warbled mess. your legs tighten around him, you want him close. so close.
it seems he knows because he nears until his body is flush to yours. until you are engulfed by his scent and the hardness of his figure.
"i swear it." his eyes flick to your lips, so close to him that they brush with his words. his admission has you gripping his cheeks and kissing him.
it's an inexperienced and sloppy kiss but you do as best as you can and naoya finds your mouth one of his favourite things.
tears leak from your eyes as he shoves his entire length into you and your body tenses.
for the second time that night he claims you.
---
despite wanting to be angry at him, you cannot. not when he kissed every bruise he left on your skin, not when he pressed his lips to yours like you meant something to him.
not when he tugged you into his side and you find revery in his scent.
something about naoya is so comforting you find yourself falling asleep with no issue.
or maybe it is because he used and exhausted your body.
he has you wrapped in his arms with familiarity. your face mushed to his chest and your leg thrown over his waist.
his thumb coaxes along your back, his face nuzzling your hair. you look adorable, you look too precious. even in your sleep you press into him more.
naoya wants to burn the sight into his brain.
you are his forever.
"my soul always searches for yours but you have never remembered mine. not once." he whispers into the air although you cannot hear it.
although you do not respond.
isn't he so dreamy ^^
#🩷.jjk#san.stories#📁.size kink#📁.virginity kink#📁.dumbification#tw.dubcon#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk#naoya smut#jjk naoya#jjk x reader#jjk smut#naoya x you#naoya zenin#naoya x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut
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Left to right. First row.
1. The Faggots and Their Friends Between Revolutions by Larry Mitchell.
In a joyous and perverse intermingling of fable, myth, heterotopian vision, and pocket wisdom, The Faggots & Their Friends tell us stories of the 70s gay countercultures and offer us strategies and wisdom for our own time living Between Revolutions. These pages sketch a different shape to time and offer instructions for living within it. This story, like our own, plays out in liminal time. Not the time of revolution, and not after-the-revolution, the story occurs between revolutions. Being between revolutions: being enmeshed in slow entropy, in abandoned spaces, in lives forged without recourse to “winning” or “after.” The faggots feel this disintegration, and live best when empires are falling.
2. Be Gay, Do Crime by The Mary Nardini Gang.
Among the discordant chorus of anons who penned the defining texts of the queer anarchist network Bash Back!, none was more fervent in its glorification of criminal desire, decadent hedonism, and social undoing than the Milwaulkee-based Mary Nardini Gang. Their fiery “Towards the Queerest Insurrection” still circulates as an integral manifesto of riotous queerness, while the “Criminal Intimacy” and “Whore Theory” have made their more subterranean way into innumerable conversations and correspondences.
Ten years later, the secretive group supplements these collected writings with a subtle retrospective. Carefully unlocking the hidden layers of their theses on insurrection, they face up to what they got wrong, concede that the world ended somewhere between the Greek insurrection of 2008 and now, and insist upon the vital task of ushering new worlds into being as we live amid the decomposition and cataclysmic death throes of the old one. To their theses on insurrection, they prepend a new arcana tooled for opening onto the queerest of outsides.
Dedicated to their friends among the dead, this pocket edition is a necromantic mirror, an encrypted message to old loves, and an invitation to those finding these words for the first time.
3. The Criminal Child by Jean Genet.
“As for me, I have chosen: I will be on the side of crime. And I will help the children, not to win back access to your houses, your factories, your schools, your laws, and sacraments, but to destroy them.”
So reads this new clandestine translation of a previously censored and unavailable text by Jean Genet. “The Criminal Child” is a critical engagement with the French youth prisons, a reflection on Genet’s formative years within them, a document of hostility towards society and its benevolent reformers, and – as argued by the anonymous afterword – an initiatory magical system.
5. Witchcraft and the Gay Counterculture by Arthur Evans.
This radical faerie classic, first published in 1978 by Fag Rag Press, uncovers the hidden mythic link between homosexuality and paganism in an elegy for the world of sex and magic vanquished by Christian civilization. From Joan of Arc to the Cathars and the underground worshippers of Diana, the author shows how every upwelling of gender transgression and sexual freedom was targeted by the authorities for total and often violent repression or appropriation. The concluding manifesto calls for pagan reconnection with the living world, the creation of armed anarchist cells, and the destruction of industrial civilization.
Left to right. Row 2.
1. What is Gender Nihilism? A Reader.
A collection gathering readings for discussions on an end to gender: not the proliferation or liberation of gender, but its catastrophic cancellation. The reader brings together writings as old as 1883 and as recent as 2015, juxtaposing nihilist, radical feminist, queer, trans, anticolonial, communizing and insurrectionary approaches with other unclassifiable textual/existential disruptions. Many of the readings are out of print or have only appeared online or in zine form, and include: Adrienne Rich, Monique Wittig, Michel Foucault, Judith Butler, A.R. Stone, Paul B. Preciado, the entities known as Radicalesbians, Gender Mutiny, Baedan, Ehn Nothing, Laboria Cuboniks and, as always, Anonymous. Also includes “My Preferred Gender Pronoun is Negation,” “Gender Nihilism” by Aidan Rowe, and the gender nihilism anti-manifesto that inspired the collection.
2. Baedan 1 – journal of queer nihilism.
3. Baedan 2 – a queer journal of heresy.
If the first issue of Baedan was a knife thrust wildly in the dark, the second is an effort to examine our enemies in a new light; enemies who bear scars yet endure. In a sense, this issue follows through our initial attack and pushes beyond our own horrors at the consequences of words. We write at a time when everything which seemed slightly possible two years ago has borne its rotten fruit; when queer recuperation has become more powerful and accepted than ever, while the fetish for technology has reached an unprecedented frenzy; when so many efforts at subversion languish under the tyranny of cybernetic identity and aesthetics (even our own etymologies have become identities!); when friends turn away out of fear of the unknown, turn toward all the comforts and certainties of the past (identity politics, traditionalism, religious morality, activism, et al). The old enemies rear their heads and the terrain is as bleak as ever. And yet we take seriously that adage: “There’s no need to fear or hope, but only to look for new weapons.”
4. Baedan 3 – journal of queer time travel.
Bædan: journal of queer time travel marks a further attempt to pose and to flesh out a queer critique of civilization. Queer not only in the sense of coming from those outside and disruptive of the Family, but also in the sense of a critique weirder than its more orthodox cousins. We imagine the Bædan project as an effort to pose the critique of civilization otherwise, to begin from another place. In this issue (and beyond…) we have conjured a strange bestiary of thinking, trying to unearth and trace the tradition of anti-civilization thought in the literature of queerness and in queerness as immanent critique.
*I couldn't find this one online*
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jjk 271 has convinced me that no famous piece of media can ever have a tolerable fanbase.
To start off, Gojo’s death was actually very beautifully done and not once have i believed that he should’ve come back. One thing that Gojo strived for after Geto’s defection was to create a Jujutsu society that wouldn’t corner their sorcerers as mere weapons and take away their youth. He was a firm believer of the fact that honing strong students would reshape and shake the very foundation of jujutsu society.
We know of Gojo’s inherent weaponisation. But it is not only Gojo who undergoes this objectification and weaponisation, it is actually every sorcerer in the jujutsu society. We don’t see Nanami, Yuki, Gojo or even Yaga get a funeral. It is because of two prominent reasons. One being the fact that the jujutsu society was built upon such shallow beliefs that the death of these sorcerers was simply brushed aside as a common occurrence. They are not offered a “funeral” or a memorial simply because these sorcerers are mere weapons to the jujutsu society and the death of a weapon simply concludes its existence and its period of serving. It is to be discarded, not mourned over, for it is simply a weapon. But another, surprisingly kinder reason, is offered to us by the narrative. As Todo Aoi says, “Grieving over the departed can tarnish their memories. Instead we must carry their will forward.” Through this we are allowed to finally understand the reason for the innumerable Gojo flashbacks during these last few chapters.
Gojo is a character who suffered from loneliness and isolation in his own unique way. It was never something that held him back yet he expresses his want to not be forgotten in the last conversation he had with Yuji. He also expresses his firm belief in his students rather than himself because he is aware that even if HE loses his students won’t. This completely changes the meaning of the infamous “Nah I’d win” panel because he wasn’t talking about his solo victory, but rather his victory as a teacher who raised sorcerers to be stronger than him and of the victory his students would achieve for him.
For a character like Gojo who wants not to be forgotten, Sukuna offers him the much needed solace of remembrance. “I’ll never forget you.” Sukuna ensures that Satoru and the very narrative make note of his choice to remember the sorcerer for the rest of his life. The two strongest sorcerers who exist as complete anti parallels to each other in both ideals and beliefs find a common ground in their shared loneliness that comes with being the strongest.
Satoru’s death was a very deserving and beautiful end for his character. He died while being acknowledged and remembered. He passed on to go south, back to his old self where his happiest memories lay, no other ending would be greater for Satoru Gojo than this.
Secondly, the interpretation of Sukuna and Uraume’s relationship. There was no context given as to who they used to be or where their uncanny companionship stemmed from, throughout the story we only see them as entities of the present, not getting a look into their dynamic during the heian era. The only few panels we get during Yorozu’s part just reestablish Uraume as a dutiful and faithful servant to their lord. So to see Sukuna display such tenderness towards them in the last chapter kind of dismantles our idea of their relationship. Mahito says Sukuna sought revenge for the execution of “that wench.” Then further, Sukuna explains how he had two paths, one with a black haired woman and one with Uraume, he chooses the one with Uraume to begin their lives anew.
In the conclusion of their story, Gege’s choice to keep Sukuna and Uraume’s joint past unexplained was a clever choice to not tarnish the sanctity of their relationship. It allows the reader to interpret their dynamics in whatever way they wish to. Because what is more important than the nature of their relationship, is Sukuna’s openness to understanding and partaking in the act of “love.” You may see it as parental, familial or romantic, it is not the nature that holds significance, it is the act itself.
Personally I like to picture Sukuna as a guardian or authoritative figure who took in Uraume with a guardian like intent to raise them and in this new life, will be able to nurture them with love. But again, the ending is quiet open for everyone’s own interpretation. Its just that i feel for Sukuna, a character who refused to believe in the very concept of love, a guardian-like role would be truly grounding as it wouldn’t impose conditionality on them, like a romantic relationship does. However, as i said, the nature matters less than the act itself.
To argue over the nature of their relationship is simply stupid. People are allowed to have their own interpretations of unspecified relationships, and creating unnecessary arguments over the validity of your own interpretation of their relationship takes away from the very essence of Sukuna and Uraume’s ending.
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could you do a yandere demon mitsuri or shinobu with a demon slayer darling
Demon Slayer Reader in Reverse AU | Yandere KNY
In this alternate universe the hashira are the equivalents of the Upper Moons. Unbelievably strong, incredibly devious, and just as responsible for innumerable deaths as their creator. You on the other hand are like Tanjiro Kamado, a demon slayer dutifully following the orders of Muzan as he’s determined to finally stop the rampant killing that those demons do. But there’s something special about you. Something that the demons just can’t deny. That has them persistently chasing you their greater their connection to their beloved creator. Maybe it’s the blood of their kin, or your kissable lips, or the curses you mutter as your sword doesn’t slice through their necks. Either way they are down-bad:
Mitsuri Kanroji
Turned after being rejected for her strength and differences
Now she uses them to eat scores of humans particularly the most bland people she can find
Can you believe just how few people she actually loves?
Too few people are special because of their differences or physical traits
Which means she’s happily devour all those who don’t which is a lot
She of course claims it’s love at first sight when she sees you
It really can be something as simple as a colorful hanafuda or being deaf
Anything unique to you makes her weak in her knees
“You’re making me so happy just to have met you! I love you!”
So busy fawning over you, she barely misses your swing
Stronger than others she only falls for you deeper
In her twisted mind the blood of Ubuyashiki makes beautiful people of his divine choice even more beautiful
Thus her mission when fighting you is to turn you
So she can have your beauty be eternal
“Don’t avoid me for long my Love! I’m going to make you perfect soon!’
The biggest challenge other than her flexibility, the cherry blossom flooded air, and her insane physical strength is her beau
Rarely does the Demon Moon of Love leave without the Demon Moon of Snakes in tow
And while for your first meetings he definitely is not trying to keep you alive for the change
After he get’s to know you and a nice talk that involves lot’s of dying lower rank demon slayers they’ll both be on the same page
Which will spell absolute doom for you as the conniving duo is not going to bother being upfront
They’ll scheme
They’ll plot
Hold your tsugoko or friends from up high as they take advantage of your heightened emotions
“I want to love you forever and ever and ever. And no one is going to stop me! Not even you”
Shinobu Kocho
She was turned along with her sister who Ubuyashiki saved after she fell ill
For years prior she had devoted herself to science, to medicine only for it to fail her at every turn
Only when she incorporated the great Ubuyashiki’s blood into her creations does she find proper results good results
And she is praised with having so many willing addicted meals and servants to offer as she produces her remedies for masses
Interacting with prey so often gives her a better way to hide and know about the demon slayer’s actions
And amateur slayers that come into her shop swords drawn are usually bullied by the surrounding towns folk
All to be beaten up and kicked out of the town becoming easy pickings at that point
She thought she’d do the same to you
By the way you walked she could sense your power and her mortal end coming closer
But you didn’t attack
Surrounded by many of her loyal customers you ask that she try the contents of a vial to tell what it is
Since it’s suspicious to the people you offer to drink it, another villager drinks it
“You’re the greatest medic in this region. Won’t you tell me what it is and where to find it?”
It’s Wisteria
Potent and poisonous wisteria
Here shinobu is faced with a choice
Attack you ruin her reputation and have to deal with a mob
Or…
drink it and writhe revealing her demon form to be attacked by the mob
“You think you’re a cunning little butterfly don’t you. Flashing your poisonous colors at me. You aren’t aware of the hunger you’ve aroused in me!”
She wasn’t happy as a human with the limits she had
So she doesn’t choose any of those options opting to kill everyone
You block the attack finding out it’s a feint for her to run away
Run away with a snarl that she hasn’t shown for hundreds of years
How dare you!?
Ruining her perfect system
When she reports to the Ubuyashiki compound by night she’s got her head down low while reporting
As expected she was chewed out not only by The Ubuyashiki but the Upper Moons as well
And there is one person she blames above all for her shame
“That despicable little demon slayer!! I’m going to make them pay!”
Her hatred for you becomes a widely welcomed truth among the other demons
Hanging your whereabouts above her head
As she snaps at them like a snarling dog
But her hatred is not simply that
She wants to own you
To hold your face as she successfully demonstrates her mass attack absorbing all within the vicinity
To clip your pretty little wings and delight in your forbidden flavor for as long as possible
When one of her colleagues theonesheclaimsshehatesthemost pressures her she’s rambling to him about how she’d never want to actually kill you nor turn you completely into a demon like she
“They’re not good enough for Master…but it’d be a shame for such a beautiful butterfly to die so quickly.”
So she’ll turn to science
Once again using her expertise to craft some serum that she plans to keep you attached to for the rest of your not-so mortal life
She’ll use her own blood measuring and testing how little is needed to give you the best parts of being a demon
She knows the clock is ticking as your life goes on
So she’ll be excited to track you down, learning as much as she can about you
Almost as much fun as she’ll enjoy making simple humans that remind her of you as test subjects
She’d even be willing to get help from one of the Upper Moons with her hunt for you
“I hope your ready for a change, butterfly! There’s nothing I can’t do without his blood.”
#yandere x reader#yandere x you#lovelyyandereaddictionpoint#yanderexrea#yandere#yanderes#yandere demon slayer#yandere kimetsu no yaiba#yandere kny#yandere kny x reader#yandere demon slayer x reader#yandere revers au#yandere demon slayer reverse au#yanderes x reader#yandere kimetsu no yaiba x reader#yandere demons#yandere shinobu kocho#yandere shibobu x reader#yandere shinobu kocho x reader#yandere mitsuri kanroji#yandere mitsuri kanroji x reader#yandere mitsuri
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Deity: Boccob, the God of Magic for Magic's Sake
Artsource
It is strange (especially for those who view their relationship with the gods as transactional) that one might offer up prayers to a figure known widely by the epithet " The Uncaring". Why perform oath and ritual for a being that will not intercede on your behalf? Or grant you good favour in exchange for your sacrifices? Those that study the words of Boccob understand they have no need to beg for miracles when they have magic at their command.
Known to commoners as a god of magic, foresight, and balance, Boccob is not so much a deity as he was a great teacher, a philosopher-sage who's now ancient treatise on magic and council on it's use are as much an object of faith for many as a more ordinary god's scripture. In instructing his students how to be wizards, Boccob taught his students how to be good wizards, and these lessons form the ironshod foundations of innumerable magical traditions practised to this day.
Central to Boccob's teachings was the idea that magic was a path that must be walked to gain greater understanding, and that an adherent of this path should study, experience, and witness as much of its wonders as possible in order to become better arcanists, leading to the adoption of the open and unjudging eye as his symbol. Boccob himself followed this path to the outer planes and beyond, never to be seen again, leading many to credit Boccob with being the first mortal to climb the fabled infinite staircase, or perhaps even its architect.
Adventure Hooks:
Millennia after his (literal or figurative) ascension, a scroll containing hitherto unseen passages of Boccob's writings have been discovered in a crumbling library, setting off a disastrous chain of events as jealous archmages scrabble for the text like seagulls after a frenchfry. Their clashes are frequent, leaving the surrounding area scattered with hastily summoned servitors and all manner of misfired magic. Perhaps if the party is quick and clever they could sneak in and take the text for themselves, learning its wisdom or using it as a bargaining chip with one of these powerful spellslingers.
If it’s one thing Boccob’s Acolytes like almost as much as uncovering the arcane secrets of the universe, it’s proving their intellectual superiority by hiding their findings behind inscrutable riddles and logic games, the way The Uncaring did for his first pupils. Ledoran’s Labynthical Libram is an infamous example of this practice, a spellbook containing all manner of useful rituals and genuinely brilliant insights hidden behind a gauntlet of ciphers, mazes, and "gotcha" enchantments. Any self styled master of the arcane is likely to have a copy on their shelves, meaning that' it's only a quick looting spree away from ending up in the party's possession.
If "a wizard did it" is the answer to the age old question of "how?", "because they were listening to Boccob?" is the answer to the inevitable follow up of "why". Arcane crossbreeds, inexplicable puzzle dungeons, magical items amounting to bad jokes with bodycounts, all of these are created by The Uncaring's followers as a means of testing and expanding their abilities.
More of my adventures involving Boccob and his followers can be found HERE
Lets get into some philosophy...
While Ioun promotes the study of arcana for the sake of furthering knowledge, Mystra maintains and obscures the secrets of the weave, and Corellon glories in the wonders spellcraft might create , Boccob focuses on the pursuit of magical ability as a means and end of its own.
To Boccob, " I want to learn magic so I can be great/help people/make life easier" is a false start, because it ties the acquisition and understanding of magic to an external metric, encouraging the practitioner to take shortcuts with the magic to achieve their worldly desires.
Greatness, beneficence, and ease of living are but some of the infinite virtues that follow from being a great mage. Indeed, a reoccuring theme in Boccobian writing (especially in the ensuing literature made by his followers) is the idea of the Panexplicatic endstate of magic, where the perfect mage (and the body of wisdom they represent) has an answer for all things, specifically a magical awnser.
While some followers have taken this to mean that a mage's pursuit should always be towards omnipotence (Vecna's grasping eye motif can be seen as a direct response to Boccob's unjudging one) the largely more accepted thought is that arcanists should specifically dream small, creating a self sufficient life for themselves withdrawn from the world while focusing on the inward path towards enlightenment. That's why you'll so often find wizards at the top of spires in remote areas, interacting only with their apprentices or whatever travellers have gone far afield to seek them out for magical guidance.
This leads into one of the main critiques of Boccobian thought, which is that it alienates the practitioner from the world at large, not only focusing on magic to the exclusion of all else but also contextualizing magic as something that exists only to help the practitioner along their individual path, other people and consequences be damned. A hedgemage living a simple life in the forest may seem like they're hurting no one when they create a tree that grows a full crop of apples every day so they don't need to worry about stocking their larder... but what happens to the local ecosystem when these everladen trees start cross pollinating with others, to say nothing of the drain/disruption to nearby laylines and how such magic might have downstream consequences. To take a completely different tack with the same problem, the poor in the village nearby might LOVE to have a bottomless supply of apples, but the Boccobian adherent would say that because they haven't devoted the years of study required to create the tree, they're not entitled to its fruits.
Titles: The Uncaring, the Master of all Magics, Archmage of the Infinite
Symbols: An eye in a pentagram, often crowned with a crescent arc.
Signs: Light through a cracked open door, stars that seem longer than they should be, the appearance of inexplicable magical text.
Worshippers: Sorcerers, wizards, and any with an access to magic innate or otherwise. Adherents usually worship in private practice but occasionally band together into temples or schools.
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that one slower scene in every superhero movie when the good guys take a beating from the villain and need to regroup, so one of the members of the team is like 'i know a place'.
so, nik gets some coordinates from soap and flies them to a countryside in scotland where mrs mactavish greets them on the front porch of a lovely house and immediately threats them with an ass whooping if they don't take their muddy combat boots off before going inside.
momma mactavish seems completely unafazed by a helicopter in her backyard, doesn't ask any questions, treats them all like a family. she's tiny and a little scary, makes them eat their vegetables and treats them to a delicious dessert. she can't stop kissing johnny's head and roast him for his mohawk.
ghost notices how relaxed and happy johnny is and how domesticity suits him. he would like to see it more often. for the first time in his life he is reluctant to come back to work.
immediately pictured the avengers at hawkeye’s house
-
Usually when someone on their team says I know a place when they find themselves in a bout of trouble, they don’t usually mean their childhood home.
Usually, I know a place means a warehouse, a run-down safe house, or, God forbid, some cave. And yet instead, here they all exist idly in Soap’s mum’s house while she coddles them in between scolding her son like it’s just another normal day for her. Like they aren’t all hardened soldiers standing in her home, each with innumerable kill counts and severely blacked-out personnel files.
It’s… weird, being crowded into a dining room and served a home-cooked meal despite coming unannounced and uninvited. That isn’t to say they’re not all thankful, having surely used up the last of Mrs. MacTavish’s gauze and bandages to get to this point, but it’s just—not at all what any of the team had been expecting.
Soap’s about the only one who seems unperturbed. Price is still rubbing his wrist from when Mrs. MacTavish smacked him for his insistence on helping with supper.
You’re guests, she had said, sounding positively aghast. What kind of host do you take me for?
Ghost can certainly see where Soap had gotten his fiery nature, as he bickers back and forth with his mother while the rest of them eat quietly, tentatively, like they’re not sure they’re allowed to. They may not share much in looks, but it’s no doubt that Soap is his mother’s son.
By the time dessert rolls around—which is yet another surprise—Mrs. MacTavish has finally been directing conversation to the soldiers sat around her table, asking about work and life as if they aren’t all bruised and scarred and about half-dead from an awful fight. Yet they all find themselves discussing what’s asked of them like it’s no more than the weather.
Something about Mrs. MacTavish’s spirit instills a sense of familiarity, homeliness. Ghost understands why Soap thought to bring them all there.
Ultimately it’s Gaz who charms Soap’s mum away to the living room along with Price and Nik that lets Ghost, at the very least, get away with helping with dishes once everything is said and done. Unfortunately for Soap, he’s never offered the choice.
“Good thing you have goin’ on here, Johnny,” Ghost eventually remarks, once they’re finally in the swing of wash, dry, wash, dry. “Not afraid of anything getting traced back here? To her?”
Soap shakes his head as he scrubs at a particularly tough stain. “Nah. It’s no’ on any of my records. Hell, it’s barely on any records. We’re off grid, LT, no need to worry your pretty head.”
Ghost rolls his eyes. He wipes off the plate that’s handed to him before setting it on the drying rack, and tossing his towel over his shoulder. It’s not until Soap’s trying to hand him something else does he take notice of Ghost’s pause.
Slowly, Soap sets the dish back in the water, frowning up at Ghost. “What?”
“…Nothin’,” Ghost says after much too long. He huffs. “Just… nice seeing what home looks like on you.”
Ghost doesn’t allow himself to linger watching Soap’s expression change from confusion to a near softness, instead making a reach for the discarded dish in the murky, soapy water to kick their routine back in gear.
He doesn’t want to think about it too closely. Doesn’t want to think about the things he’s realizing about himself this evening, or the fleeting thought that maybe he’d like to stay here forever, instead of return to the field where death waits openly at every turn.
It’s still appreciated, though, this moment of tranquility. He’ll have to make sure to thank Mrs. MacTavish when he gets the chance.
#ask#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#captain john price#task force 141#ghostsoap#soapghost#writing
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Humans are weird: Savage wisdom
*A debate between an Elder species and a young human over humanities intervention in an unfolding galactic disaster after the Elder species refused to get involved.
Human: What?
H: Do you come to critique me old one?
H: Do you object to how I handled things?
H: You have no grounds on which to lecture me.
Alien: Mind your tone.
A: I am older than the stars themselves little one; my wisdom is the stuff of ages.
H: You are indeed old and wise, but what have you done with that knowledge?
H: Nothing.
H: You have sat and watched from afar as we have struggled to survive innumerable problems that you could have fixed in a blink of an eye.
A: Then what would you have learned?
H: The dead learn nothing, and the grieving care not for your pontificating.
A: And what if I had intervened as you insist?
A: If my people solved every problem and minor dilemma you younger races face, what growth could be expected of you?
A: You would become nothing more than pale mockeries of who you are now.
A: Lesser than that even; creatures so afraid of your own shadows that you would cling to my robes like an adolescent.
A: A life without struggle, without hardship, will leave you frail and weak; and this is a galaxy that does not tolerate the neither for long.
H: You speak as if we asked you to move the stars themselves!
A: It does not matter what the request was, nor that we refused it; only that you came to make it at all
H: So that’s it then?
H: The most powerful species in the galaxy and you are content to sit on the sidelines while we play out our lives?
A: You still do not see….
H: Then make me!
H: Show me what I am missing!
H: End your parade of riddles and half-truths and give me a straight answer!
*Alien ascends to full height towering over the mortal human
A: Were you naught taught that your actions have consequences!?
A: You throw a stone into a river and it casts a ripple.
A: I throw a stone and it casts a tidal wave!
A: Worlds would burn, galaxies snuffed from existence, trillions of lives looking up to the heavens begging me and my kind to save them from their inevitable demise we could no more prevent than I could stop the sun from rising!
A: And you have the arrogance to come before me and think you can cast judgment for my inaction!
*Alien leans down to glare at human
A: I have seen the lure of power corrupt time and again and all too quickly does the adulation of the masses turn to screams as those with power become consumed by it.
A: The universe becomes nothing more than a playground and those within it toys to be played with then cast aside.
A: In your tongue you call these beings “Gods”, and that is what you would make of us.
H: We would not.
A: Do not lie to me!
A: I have seen your histories little one.
A: I know those we save would build monuments in our name, pray and offer us gifts and sacrifices for our favor, and not long after denounce any who would not believe as they do an cast them into the fires of war and hatred.
A: The younger species would place us upon a throne high atop a mountain of corpses and call it paradise.
*Alien retreats from human and begins pacing away.
A: You asked if my kind was content to simply watch.
A: We are not.
A: I am not.
A: But such are the ways of the universe.
H: * Shakes head
H: I don’t believe that.
A: *Laughs
A: One day you’ll see it as I do.
*Alien begins to vanish into dense smoke cloud
A: That is, if you can survive that long.
#humans are weird#humans are insane#humans are space oddities#humans are space orcs#scifi#story#writing#original writing#niqhtlord01#short story#debate#philisophy
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a little domesticity
pairing: Tess x F!Reader word count: 2.3k summary: You discover it's Tess's birthday. You decide you want to make it special. Tess fingers you while you cook her dinner. Same universe as Drive Me Home if you like?? content/warnings: basically just porn, no implied age gap, this is so domestic!!!!, established but new-ish relationship, lil bit of daddy Tess, fingering, very mild degradation, no outbreak or pre-outbreak AU, pet names (baby, honey), Tess works at a high-powered but undefined job a/n: For @ozarkthedog 🩷 Congrats on your 11k, and happy birthday Ozzie!! You've given us so much with your celebration, but you should be the one getting gifts! I know this is pretty extraordinarily late (sorry, love) but I hope you like it 😚
You are determined not to have to make two trips. Tess's apartment is up five flights, the elevator is on the fritz, and your legs already ache from the gym yesterday. You want to do anything you can to not have to go back and forth.
Three grocery bags hang off your left hand and two on your right, slowly cutting off any remaining circulation. A bottle of wine and a gallon of milk are tucked into your elbows as you heave yourself up the steps. Grocery shopping is a truly Sisyphean task, and the slog up to the apartment only confirms this.
By the time you turn the corner past the fourth landing, you're cursing yourself. It's so much. You know your arms will be aching, but of course you're stubborn enough to overdo it.
Finally, you make it to the fifth floor landing, and Tess's door is the third on the right. It's inelegant, trying to keep the bags steady while shoving your hand into your pocket to dig around for your keys. Your fingers are verging on numbness, and right as you move the key to the lock, you fumble and drop it.
That's the moment you hear the phone ring inside.
It sends you into a rush, and in your haste, you drop half the bags and still don't manage to open the door before the ringing stops.
Instead, you swing the door open right as the beep of the answering machine sounds, a bunch of bananas and a bag of English muffins fallen at your feet.
A man's voice chimes out, tinny and a little distorted.
"Tess! It's Joel. Happy birthday! We're gettin' old, huh? Let's get dinner soon, on me. Tommy's wishing you well, and Sarah, too. I'll catch you later."
Then you hear the click of a receiver, and the machine stops.
You frown. Leave the groceries where they're sat and rewind the tape a few seconds. Hit play.
"'S Joel. Happy birthday! We're gettin' old, huh? Let's get dinner soon, on me. Tommy's wishing you--"
You click it off.
He definitely said Tess. And 'happy birthday'.
So why the fuck didn't Tess tell you it was her birthday?
You know it's not really a big deal. Maybe she's just not a birthday person. It wouldn't really surprise you; there's a nonchalance that she exudes that sometimes throws you off .
If you're honest, though, you love birthdays. The gift-giving. Getting to make a fuss over your loved ones. And, you reason, if the Millers can wish her well, then it's probably not a sore spot for her.
More than anything, you've been wanting an excuse to celebrate her. Maybe this can be it?
As you prop the door open and begin to drag the grocery bags in, as you scrubbing the produce and putting everything away, you allow a plan to form.
It's been a long day but a good day. Work was a series of tasks that required some creative problem solving, and Tess felt like a fucking magician the way she'd been kicking ass and putting out fires.
Trekking up the innumerable steps, she felt suddenly lighter when she remembered that you had offered to make dinner.
From the moment she turns the key in the lock, she immediately starts salivating.
"Babe?" she calls, shucking off her shoes and shrugging off her jacket.
"In here-" you call back.
A moment later, soft footfalls are padding into the kitchen, and she's slipping her arms around you. She rests her chin on your shoulder and surveys the scene in front of you both.
"Shit, hon, this smells amazing."
You do a happy wiggle against her and start pointing out everything in turn. "So, we've got garlic tossed broccolini. Parsnip ravioli in that one, only has a minute or so left. I'm just starting the sauce now, so it'll be a few minutes before everything's ready, but you've made it in perfect time."
"Ugh," Tess groans, appreciative, "You spoil me. What's the occasion?"
"OH, don't let me drain the pasta water without saving some."
"I got you," she promises, sliding past you to grab two beers from the fridge. She notices when your eyes linger on her hands as she pops the bottle caps. "Careful, don't burn-- whatever you've got on the flame there."
With a shake of your head, you roll your eyes. "But seriously, is that a real question, or are you testing me?"
She frowns. Hands you a bottle and takes a swig of her own, sliding back behind you. She presses against you and wraps her arms around your waist.
"What are you talking about?"
You grind your ass back a little more and she puts one hand on your hip, but now she's smiling at you, mildly puzzled.
"Do you know what the date is today?"
"Oh shit, did I forget something important?" she detaches. "Did I forget our anniversary?"
"You tell me." You nod your head towards the calendar hanging on the fridge. "I'll help you out, it's a Tuesday today. And we've only been together six months. And you brought me flowers for that, like, a week ago."
She stares at the calendar for a moment and then looks at you. Looks back and forth.
"I--"
She's frozen in an incredulous frown.
"Happy birthday, honey," you tell her.
"I can't believe I fucking forgot. And how did you know?" she laughs.
"Hah," you laugh, "Answering machine went off when I got in. Your friend, Joel, he was calling to wish you well."
She snorts. "Fuckin' Miller saves the day?" Then she looks you up and down. "And you, baby, you've definitely saved the day." She looks over the spread again and notices the counter covered in flour, the kitchenaid with a roller attachment, a piping bag nearly fully emptied, and various pastry cutters. "Shit, did you make all this yourself?"
"The ravioli? Sure did. Just wanted an excuse to spoil you."
Tess plants a kiss on your lips and you moan into her mouth. When you pull apart, you're panting.
"Now," you tell her, suddenly serious, "I prioritized dinner and didn't have a chance to get you a present."
"Oh, hon, you don't have to-"
You cut her off, waggling your eyebrows. "But you do still have someone to unwrap."
"Don't have to tempt me, honey," she grins.
"Just let me finish up with dinner-"
She has a different idea. "I bet you can finish up while I open my present."
You snort. "Be patient."
"I don't have to be patient--it's my birthday."
"Tess, I-"
She ignores you, pressing gentle kisses down the side of your throat.
She know's it's a guaranteed horny button for you, and she exploits that weakness mercilessly. You have to fight not to melt. Even so, you let your eyes flutter closed, bathing in the sensation and not wanting anything to stop or change. She lets you relax into it for a moment, before bumping her hip against you, nudging you forward.
"Go on, baby. Better keep cooking. I'm hungry."
You let out a deep breath and snap yourself back. You spark the cooktop and place down the sauté pan. (You prefer cooking at Tess's apartment. Hers has a gas range. Yours has electric.)
After checking the temperature, you place a stick of butter in the pan. Tess runs her hands up and down your sides at a leisurely pace. Just her touch is enough to make you weak kneed again.
She passes you a slotted wooden spatula and you start to push the stick of butter around, watching it sizzle and melt as Tess makes you melt. You hear the clink of her own belt before you feel her undoing the button of your jeans.
Your pasta timer dings and the moment is broken. You grab the pan and are about to drain it in the colander you have set up in the sink, but before you can tip it out, Tess stops you.
"Hold up, hon, save that pasta water."
"Shit! Yep, nearly forgot it."
You set a liquid measuring jug beneath the colander and let the pasta drain, before taking the pasta water and turning back to the melting butter.
Tess's hands are back on you, pulling down your zipper now. She shimmies your jeans past your hips, kneading your ass with one hand as she trails the other from your belly button lower and lower and lower-
You start to lose focus on dinner and can only pay attention to her.
Tess slips her hand down your front and gasps when she gets to your bare cunt, hot and wanting. You're wearing no underwear, clothed only in the curls between your thighs.
"Naughty girl," she praises, and you swoon as she starts stroking her fingertips along your cunt, collecting your wetness and smearing it on your clit before pressing harsh circles into you that make you shudder and squirm deliciously.
"Don't let the butter burn," Tess chides, and you blink your eyes open, reaching for the utensil and moving the last of the unmelted butter around the pan, watching it start to foam at the edges.
"What else do you need, hon?" she asks, "Got all your ingredients?
You glance around. The sage is there. The pasta water. Garlic. Pepper.
"Uh-huh."
"Good," Tess says, "'Cause I'm gonna need you to stay put and focus."
A surge of heat pulses through you and you feel Tess's breath on your neck, a delicious sigh.
You add sage leaves to the browning butter, savouring the sudden aroma as the sage begins to heat, releasing its fragrance.
Tess resumes her work, slipping your jeans down to your ankles and guiding you to step out, all the while you stir the pan.
As the sage sizzles in the butter, she presses a finger against your folds, finding your opening, and eliciting a gasp from you as she enters you with two long fingers.
Finding a rhythm, she starts pumping the digits, pulling whines and moans from you, pausing only to let you smash the peeled garlic with the palm of your hand against the flat of a chef's knife and mince it a little more. You toss it into the pan and, once the knife is out of your hand, she resumes.
Two fingers become three, and as you splash the pasta water in with the butter and sage and yelp as she picks up the pace.
"Love those lovely little whines you make for me. All those sweet noises, that's all for me, huh?"
"For you," you agree, another whine escaping.
"Messy fuckin' hole, taking my fingers so good. Such a good girl, baby," she praises, and you don't realise she's not referring to you until she says, "Look at her, gettin' all puffy and wrecked."
You let out another sound, this one closer to a growl. You can feel yourself beginning to drip down her hand as she fucks her digits into you, pressing into you so nicely, working you open, making your knees quake.
"Sweet little pussy opening right up for me. Think she can take another?
"Fuck, daddy, please-"
Trying to keep stirring while she works on you is a near impossibility. With a focus that can't be anything less than witchcraft, she smacks your cheek while you're moaning, eyes closed and keening.
"Don't let it burn," she scolds, and your eyes snap back open.
The sauce has started to thicken, and you turn down the flame so you can take a moment to grind yourself deeper onto Tess's hand.
"Wanna put on the strap?" you ask. "Want me to put on the strap?"
"I'd take either," she admits with a laugh, "But the dishwasher's running."
"Fuck."
"Did you just put the cycle on?"
"Yep. Are our dicks in the dishwasher?"
"Our dicks are in the dishwasher."
You let out a whine. She just maintains her pace and rubbing a fingertip in blinding, tight circles around your clit.
"Poor baby," she teases, "I barely have to play with you and your cute lil hole soaks me like a fuckin' whore. You're so fucking easy."
"Hnnnggg-"
"My pretty little slut. Just gotta give me one, baby, just one and I'll let you finish dinner."
Another whine.
"C'mon, honey, I feel you gettin' close. Clenchin' on daddy's fingers. Fuck, cum for me baby, let me feel you-"
She reaches around you and turns off the flame, the fingers of her other hand pumping faster and rougher. You're bent forward, gripping the counter for support, as you feel yourself start to tip over.
"Fuuuuckkk-" you cum with a cry, Tess's fingers working you through it as her other hand wraps around your waist, steadying you. You hear the splash of your release against the laminate floor as she keeps going, pumping her fingers fast and deep, hitting just the right spot, dragging your orgasm out longer than you knew yourself capable of.
It takes a couple of minutes, coming back down. You feel your slick cooling on your thighs and turn around to see Tess leaning against the hallway behind you, grinning wickedly as she licks her fingers one by one.
"You're gonna be the death of me," you tell her, and she slides back behind you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
"Not allowed to die. It's my birthday."
"Hmmph," you roll your eyes and begin to plate up.
The groan Tess lets out as she takes her first bite is more than worth it.
"Fucking fuck, honey, I mean- holy shit this is so good."
You grin. "Glad you like it."
"I know what I'm having for dessert," Tess smirks, waggling her eyebrows.
"Yeah," you agree, "I made you a tart."
"You're my tart."
You roll your eyes again. "I am, but I made one special for you. Dessert first, then you can eat me as much as you like."
Tess nods solemnly before breaking into another grin. "Thank you honey."
"Happy birthday, baby."
#tess servopoulos fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou fanfiction#tlou#tess servopoulos x reader#tess x reader#tess x f!reader#okay it should PROBABLY be your birthday rather than hers but this is what flowed pls forgive meeeee
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WHY IS BIG BANG SHOWN AS A TUBE??
Blog#448
Saturday, October 26th, 2024.
Welcome back,
For as long as humans have been around, our innate curiosity has compelled us to ask questions about the universe. Why are things the way they are? How did they get to be this way? Were these outcomes inevitable or could things have turned out differently if we rewound the clock and began things all over again? From subatomic interactions to the grand scale of the cosmos, it’s only natural to wonder about it all. For innumerable generations, these were questions that philosophers, theologians, and mythmakers attempted to answer. While their ideas may have been interesting, they were anything but definitive.
Modern science offers a superior way of approaching these puzzles. No longer do we consider the Big Bang, once thought to be the ultimate origin of our Universe, to have occurred at a single moment or event in space and time. We can now ask questions such as “What existed before the Big Bang?” as well as “Why did the Big Bang happen?” When it comes to even the biggest questions of all, science provides us with the best answers we can muster, given what we know and what remains unknown, at any point in time. Here and now, these are the best robust conclusions we can reach.
When we look out at the galaxies in the universe today, we find that — on average — the farther away it is, the greater the amount its light is shifted toward longer and redder wavelengths. The longer light spends traveling through the universe before it reaches our eyes, the greater the amount that the expansion of the universe stretches its wavelength; this was how we discovered that the universe is expanding. Because stretched, longer-wavelength light is colder than shorter-wavelength light, the universe cools as it expands. If we extrapolate backward in time instead of forward, we’d expect the early universe to exist in a hotter, denser, more uniform state.
A visual history of the expanding Universe includes the hot, dense state known as the Big Bang and the growth and formation of structure subsequently. The full suite of data, including the observations of the light elements and the cosmic microwave background, leaves only the Big Bang as a valid explanation for all we see. As the Universe expands, it also cools, enabling ions, neutral atoms, and eventually molecules, gas clouds, stars, and finally galaxies to form.
When we look out at the galaxies in the universe today, we find that — on average — the farther away it is, the greater the amount its light is shifted toward longer and redder wavelengths. The longer light spends traveling through the universe before it reaches our eyes, the greater the amount that the expansion of the universe stretches its wavelength; this was how we discovered that the universe is expanding.
Because stretched, longer-wavelength light is colder than shorter-wavelength light, the universe cools as it expands. If we extrapolate backward in time instead of forward, we’d expect the early universe to exist in a hotter, denser, more uniform state.
Originally, we took the extrapolation as far back as we could imagine — to infinite temperatures and densities, and an infinitesimally small volume: a singularity. Evolving forward from that initial state, we successfully predicted and later observed:
the leftover radiation from the Big Bang, observable as the cosmic microwave background
the abundance of the light elements before any stars were formed
the gravitational growth of large-scale structure in the universe
However, we also observed things we couldn’t explain if the universe began from a singular state, including why there were no leftover relics from the highest-energy epochs, why the universe had the same properties in opposite directions that could never have exchanged information with one another, and why there was absolutely no spatial curvature, leaving the universe indistinguishable from flat.
Originally published on https://bigthink.com
COMING UP!!
(Wednesday, October 30th, 2024)
"DID LIFE BEGIN IN SPACE??"
#astronomy#outer space#alternate universe#astrophysics#universe#spacecraft#white universe#space#parallel universe#astrophotography
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Traditional Evil Eye Amulets (SOLD OUT)
The Evil Eye is an affliction recognized and dreaded across cultures, with innumerable traditional practices utilized to avert its affect. One especially popular method for protecting against the Evil Eye is the employment of magical devices designed to turn away its influence, and what I offer here is one such traditional amulet.
Each amulet is crafted from hand-foraged shed horn antlers, which I cut and sanded to shape, before lightly sealing them with a ritually empowered wood varnish made from a number of arboreal resins, such as Dragon's Blood, Storax, and Amber. Using this same empowered varnish, I then meticulously capped the tips of each piece with a gilding leaf made from .999 Pure Silver. When they were all fully dried and burnished, I sealed each piece with one final coat of preservative lacquer and set each one with a Sterling Silver pendant bail. With physical construction complete, each amulet was hallowed in a Warding Ritual, which activated and aligned the defensive virtues present therein.
Each piece can be purchased on my webshop, Wending Wares, as a standalone pendant, or can be outfitted with a Sterling Silver box chain measuring approximately 18 inches / 46 centimeters in length for an extra fee using the drop-down menu. Feel free to reach out through tumblr as well, if you can't use my website for some reason.
If your piece breaks suddenly, it traditionally indicates that it has absorbed an especially potent attack directed at its bearer. It should, thereafter, be buried at a Crossroads. If this does happen, and you find that you would like a replacement piece, simply reach out with a picture of the broken amulet, and I will gladly offer a new one at a discount.
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✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩
All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.
Harry Potter
The Ordeal of Being Known by louisfake
When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge... especially from Potter.
Features fuzzy cartoon slippers, devious house elves, 90s music, and lots—LOTS—of memories. Ron is annoyingly hot, Hermione sees right through you, Harry is a powerful idiot, and Draco is a reclusive masochist that would buy an entire city if it would make a kid happy. (And Pansy is "5'2, I wanna dance with you, and I'm sophisticated fun.")
Super Mario Bros
Cooking Mama (Luigi)! by Little_RedHots_Riding_Hood
Luigi was having a perfectly peaceful stroll through the Toad Market - the sun was shining, he'd just found a lovely handmade blanket, and was on his way to the bakery before heading back to his and Mario's home.
Only... what was that sniffling noise from that dark, scary alleyway?
Of all the creatures he was expecting to find, the littlest prince of the Koopa Kingdom certainly wasn't it.
Star Wars
the tiger is out by elumish
Wolffe looks like he’s regretting having a second Jedi with them.
DC
Cryp-Tim by PrinceJakeFireCake
"The cons of dating Tim Drake were innumerous. For one, he was almost impossible to photograph, and so none of Kon’s friends at school actually believed he existed. His family was scary, horrifying really, and all of them seemed to find joy in making Tim regret ever being born. And Tim had charmed Ma and Pa Kent so thoroughly, they had ditched their shovel talk to instead coo at him and offer him pie and compliment him for fixing their tractor, so Kon was at a disadvantage when it came to intimidating someone with his family.”
Kon and Tim date. It goes pretty well, all things considered.
Tim Has a Hero Worship-y Crush on Every Robin Ever by PrinceJakeFireCake
"Tim as an adult was bad enough, Tim with no filter as a child was too much to be around."
Cork Board Contingencies by PrinceJakeFireCake
If you don’t use a cork board to obsessively plan contingencies for every possible way a date with your best friend can go, how can you go on a date at all?
Excerpt: “Are you free next Saturday?” Tim asked, pretty sure that Kon’s jumble of words was agreement that he wanted to date Tim.
“Maybe!” Kon exclaimed.
“Cool,” Tim commented, taking another sip of his drugged grape soda (“Dammit, Tim,” he mentally told himself. “Do not give in! Buy new grape soda! Stop drinking the drugged grape soda! I’ve shotgunned another can of drugged grape soda, haven’t I? Dammit, that makes five!”) then saying, “That gives me just enough time to pass out for fifty-two hours and plan our first date."
Immunology by JustGettingBy
Hypothetically speaking. Could a hybrid creature become suddenly not viable? Like say it survives being an embryo, makes it through growing up, and then just one day… stops? the text from Kon reads.
Tim’s heart spikes up through his ribs. Kon. What’s happening?
(OR Kon gets the flu. It becomes Tim's problem.)
Change of Plans by PrinceJakeFireCake
"Who’s your friend, Tim?” the voice asked.
Jason hissed. This was his baby! Not his friend!
“Sorry, sorry,” the voice hastened to apologize. “I mean, who’s your parent, Tim?”
AKA, who has the time to be a murderous crime/drug lord when there are kittens to adopt
Motion Blur by sElkieNight60
At Damian's school art showcase, Bruce realizes he needs to help Tim reframe their relationship.
#my posts#weekly fic round up#dc recs#sw recs#hp recs#misc recs#fic recs#yes there is a bowuigi fic on here#but the found family is so good
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El's protectiveness and friendships in the lab
wanted to take a minute to appreciate that El's protectiveness isn't a character trait that only emerges post-lab. she's always been that way [assuming, for this post, that NINA stuff more or less happened]; it just couldn't always present in a way that looks badass on a poster.
El and Eighteen
only crumbs here, but if I have to point out a lab kid that El is friendlier with than the others, it's Eighteen.
El holding Eighteen's hand is the only affectionate act I've ever noticed between any of the lab kids, and offering that comfort to her littlest sister is probably as "protective" as El can afford to be (esp as an eight year old with the least power and social standing of anyone).
when the kids in general laugh at El for failing at the light game, Eighteen is not one of the kids shown doing so.
Eighteen is the first dead child El is shown to be upset about. it's not that she looks more distressed about her than the others, but it's odd that she saw Ten dead on the floor next to Brenner a second before this and didn't really react. (maybe she couldn't tell Ten was dead from the doorway? idk)
maybe an El/Eighteen friendship is cornplating or whatever the youths are calling it, but bearing in mind that we're never actually told that El/Eight had some super close friendship, maybe theirs looked something like this.
side note - are friendships even permitted in the lab?
letting the kids form friendships could be dangerous, as Brenner, couldn't it? risks them forming alliances against you? this is why I was asking the other day if socializing seems discouraged in the RR. like, even the bullies, who were "friends," never chatted openly in there unless the cameras were off. maybe any lab friendships have to be hush hush by nature.
anyway idk there's just something about us going "🤯 same numbers!!!" upon seeing the 001 / 011 tattoos, and then 008 + 018 being the only other kids El is hinted at being friendly with... why are we reusing the same pattern? 001 / 008 / 011 / 018 just happen to be every combination of those three numbers within the number of available children.
especially with El "being 8" (as in, years old) at this time. it's giving Henry, 12 / mother of 5. idk where I'm going with that but I'm squinting. Eighteen, you're not some bizarro Little Eight who has an inverted friendship with Big El, right?
El lashing out in the lab
we're shown repeatedly that El hates seeing people get hurt, but multiple times onscreen (and you know innumerable times off) she witnesses severe abuse to her siblings, and we never see her act in their defense like post-lab El would. of course, that's because she realistically can't. we know trying to help anyone in the lab accomplishes little except getting both people in trouble. but I was thinking about how we DO see El lash out for her own sake in 1983. so what's the takeaway? El cares more about protecting herself than others? nah. let's look at the other guard killing scene (again. assuming this really happened):
when similarly cornered in 1979, El's immediate response is silent surrender.
why is her behavior so different? because she's weak? too scared / well controlled? too nice to kill? all those factors have already been established as non-issues in this moment. (she does have her powers here; the circle game proved that Brenner can't control El and knows it; killing when cornered is canonically within her nature)
you might think having a staff member on her side would make her more defiant, but instead she's more compliant here than in '83 (either time. even in the non-guard-killing flashback, El screams and struggles the whole way.)
El and One
he's the difference. she doesn't know he's her brother or has powers yet, but he has presented himself as a fellow prisoner rather than someone in a position of authority. she's also already seen him get punished because of her.
as far as El knows right here, if she lashes out - whether she then escapes successfully or not - she'd be bringing SEVERE punishment onto a nice guy who can't defend himself or escape.
she has a chance at freedom, the power to kill, and the escape route all planned out, but she doesn't do it. the thing that's not in her nature is abandoning a friend to God-knows-what punishment on her behalf.
so while One killing the guards is an act of protection to El, it's also a massive act of protection to One that El is ready to throw out the whole plan right here. don't miss it just because it's not the classic El-screamy-hand thing.
she's sacrificing her chance at freedom in hopes of slightly mitigating his punishment. (they're both doomed to very bad punishment upon capture right here, but if she escapes I think he'd get punished even worse. so she's choosing to share in pretty bad punishment over him being punished extremely severely and her not at all.)
even aside from punishment, she knows she'll be returning to an even worse home life than the one she believed necessitated her immediate escape (Brenner apparently arranging for her to be killed).
so here, can she afford to act out not only because she's acting alone, but because she's an only child, so to speak? there's no one else who could potentially suffer as a result of her actions. no other siblings to use as leverage. no one to protect.
whatever consequences Brenner carried El off to after killing those orderlies, she bore it alone.
I can sorta read this as protective of the other kids in general - not that she did it, but that she didn't until now.
am I saying Brenner might have randomly punished other kids as a result of something El did?
have you met the guy? definitely would've threatened it, might've actually done it. manipulation by whatever means necessary.
when you work in a building full of superpowered people who hate you, you gotta control them psychologically, because physical control isn't something you can maintain for long. it's imperative that they're more afraid of the consequences of kicking your ass than they are of whatever torture you're putting them through. emotional manipulation using friends and innocents as pawns is a classic move. (another reason the kids might want to keep lab friendships secret even if they're allowed.)
that's not theory - we've seen Brenner use this tactic onscreen, telling El that he'll have Owens killed if she tries to get to him. he knows he can't physically control her, so he exerts psychological control by placing Owens' blood on El's hands to get her to cooperate.
the phrase "blood on one's hands" means being responsible for deaths, not having literally, personally committed murder. this imagery is used onscreen to denote El's sense of guilt about the massacre well before she comes to the conclusion that she actually did it. (this could be symbolism that El's mind organically dreamed up instead of engineered fuckery, but who knows. we have no textual explanation yet for how her hands would be that bloody).
and together with Brenner very textually using the kids against each other in other ways - having them literally duel each other in the circle game, but also the "driving them to do exactly what he wants" stuff - I don't think it's unreasonable to figure that fear of harm to the other kids was a manipulation tactic used in the lab.
that definitely includes One - lines like "I'm not going with you / if he finds me he will find you" "I wanted to help you, but I only made things worse" smack of a guy kept in line by fear of something happening to the kids.
and the Brenner-orchestrating-El's-murder story smells like a psyop. is this just Brenner wanting One to think harm would come to El as a consequence of his actions? (she became "uncontrollable" as a result of his coaching). El is too valuable an asset to actually kill. who would know better than One that the treatment for being uncontrollable is soteria, not death? assuming One is being truthful, why would he not see through that. idek what I think is going on here anymore
anyway. MKUltra is ALL about manipulation but I'll talk more about that in my other post
times El protects her friends the same way she protected One
practically every move El makes is about protecting her friends but I want to point out a few times that are specifically reminiscent of her protection of One, where she's ready to give up her freedom to protect her friends even at risk of the worst case scenario (going back to the lab):
sacrificing herself to protect the party from the demogorgon ("no more") <- is that line in reference to the 6 people the demogorgon has snatched, or is that a massacre reference given how incredibly parallel these scenes are. I'm not sure whether "goodbye Mike" meant she thought she'd die or just get so wiped out that she'd be easily recaptured by the lab
leaving Kali and "freedom" to return to Hawkins and protect her friends, where she volunteers to go back into the lab to close the gate
leaving Cali and "freedom" to return to the lab to get her powers back to protect her friends
final thought: I just had a chuckle with myself at the fact that iirc it's Mike and Nancy whose lives El has individually, directly saved the most times.
[honorable mention for Max because I don't know how to quantify 4x9. is that like one massive save?]
like, Mike, okay, but why the Nancy emphasis when she and El have basically zero onscreen relationship. (actually I have a lot to say about El and Nancy coming up soon that might add context)
idk.. lab sibling guilt smth smth El protecting Nancy "she'll be like your new sister" and Mike "will you be like my brother" Creeler. you gotta love it
#another chunk off the analysis. I promise it's coming#givehimthemedicineanalysis#putting 'El saves Holly Wheeler's life' on my s5 bingo card
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Fuck it more SpellBomb fic snipits
Gale rubs a hand over his furrowed brow. “I can feel myself growing weaker by the moment, and without my ability to manipulate the Weave I’d only become a burden on the others, on you.” He sighs, the sound lodged deep in his chest. “You know, sometime I do wonder if wandering off into oblivion would be best”
“It wouldn’t be whats best for me” Dotty says softly.
“Really?” He says. “Perhaps I could understand I were still useful, weigh the pros and cons of having a walking cataclysm in your mist, as it were. Magic is my life. Without it - well, I’m hardly deserving of your shelter.”
She’s staring at the fire, fingers twisting anxious knots in her lap. If only it were his place to sooth her.
“I suppose I can’t understand exactly how you feel, but I understand not feeling worthy.” Dotty says. “I’m useless. All my life I’ve been useless. A useless daughter, a useless bride. I dont have anything of worth to offer anyone, aside from my name, and even that’s not worth much all the way out here. But I think- we might have spent our lives around the worse types of people.”
The firelight reflects like a sunset in her pearlescent eyes as she turns her steady gaze towards him.
“Because there are people out there who will treat you well just because you’re you, that care about you just because you’re you. I know it can feel impossible to hear but, we’ve found people like that, havent we? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as kind as Wyll or Karlach before. Or anyone as kind as you.”
“And I care about you.” She continues, untangling her fingers and resting her hand on the ground between them. “Just being around you makes me happy.”
“Perhaps it would ring hollow from the mouth someone so recently filled with self doubt, but you are anything but useless.” Gale rushes to say. “The breadth and depth of your character could fill libraries innumerable.
“It is hard, to imagine someone might care for me simply as the man I am, and even more difficult to accept, but I would be wise to take your words into consideration—— You make me happy as well, very happy indeed”
Dotty smiles over at him, small and shy and tinged with sadness, rather than the typical laughter that seems to soak into her every word. He doesn’t need the Weave to feel the anticipation that envelops them. Its covered them like a heavy clock since their return from the goblin encampment. He can feel it, the way it hums like a stray current reaching from her fingers, now tangled up in the grass, towards his own cautiously questing pinkie. A feeling he’d very much like to embrace, but like a kitten dissatisfied with with its owners preoccupation, the orb in his chest flares, pouncing to rack its claws across his ribcage from the inside.
Gale winces, then cursed, then retreats. At least her sympathetic smile is able to somewhat soothes his frustrations.
“Well-! Thats enough self pitting for one evening. I’d best let you get some rest.” He stands, ready to retreat to his tent for another lonely night. But not without saying: “Thank you, so ofter do I find solace in your presence. Sleep well”
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“The cross is the principle of our salvation; the cross is the basis of innumerable goods. Because of it, we, who were previously deprived of honor and rejected, are now accepted into the title of sons; because of it we are no longer in delusion, but have known the truth; because of it we, who before worshiped trees and stones, now know the Creator of all things; because of it we, who have been the servants of sin, have been brought into the freedom of righteousness; finally, because of it, the earth became heaven.
It freed us from delusions, it guided us to the truth, it reconciled God and people, it pulled us out of the depths of vice and raised us to the very summit of virtue, it destroyed demonic delusion, it destroyed deception. Because of it, there is no more smoke, the smell of burned idol offerings and the shedding of blood of unscrupulous animals, but there are spiritual services, chanting and prayers everywhere. Because of it, the demons were forced to flee, because of it, the devil was banished, because of it, human nature began to compete with the angelic one, because of it, virginity gained power on earth. Namely, since He was born of a Virgin, human nature has come to know this path to virtue. It enlightened us who sat in darkness, reconciled to God us, who fought against Him, it made us, who were far away, come closer, it made us, who were strangers, the citizens of heaven; it has ended our war, it has become a pillar of peace for us. Because of it, we are no longer afraid of the fiery arrows of the devil, since we have found the source of life; because of it we stopped being widows, because we have found the Bridegroom. Because of it, we are no longer afraid of the wolf, because we know the Good Shepherd. And the Lord Himself says: “I am the Good Shepherd” (John 10:11). Because of it, we are no longer afraid of the tyrant, since we are sitting next to the King.
Do you see how much good the cross has caused us? That is why we celebrate it justly.”
—St John Chrysostom, “Sermons on the Cross and the Robber”
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