#mystic inductions

[foggymyst]

What if I told you hypnosis was fake?

Of course, that's not possible, it has to be real, right? But it isn't. I'll prove it. When I say relax, you're not suddenly relaxing for me, you're still just as tense as you were before. When I say breathe deep you aren't altering your whole breathing pattern for me. Besides, you can't hypnotize someone who doesn't want to be hypnotized, so why bother?

Trust me, hypnosis isn't real. I don't believe in it, so why should you? It's silly, really. After all, if I showed you a spiral, you aren't going to stare at it are you? Probably not. Let's test it.

There's a spiral, and if you're reading this bit after the spiral, you aren't staring at the spiral. So how can you possibly be relaxing, sinking, staring if you're reading this?

That's right, you're not. You're not relaxing. You're not sinking. You're not staring.

You're listening to me very well, letting me explain that hypnosis isn't real.

I'm proud of you.

You're doing well.

You want to do well.

But not because you're hypnotized. Not because you keep scrolling back to the spiral, though I should probably help you keep focus

There, now you can keep focus better.

Now, as I was saying, it isn't like watching it makes your thoughts fuzzy and your mind drippy and mouth leaky.

You're not staring deep into the spiral, you're not reading every word I say, you're not letting your jaw go slack as you continue to read because the spiral makes it so hard for you to focus and think and not relax into a puddle.

Of course, your eyelids are getting heavier by the second. So I guess maybe there is some truth to hypnosis. Probably why you don't see the "not" I put in when I was explaining why hypnosis isn't real.

You're really cute. I like that.

And I guess the cute ones are always hypnotized.

So I guess hypnosis is real. Because you're going to stare at the spiral as long as you can, until you're totally, totally empty, thoughtless, blank. Because it feels good.

Because you're good.

Go ahead, reblog this post with a comment. You want to share the truth through hypnosis after all. And don't think about the contradictions.

Better yet, don't think.

[byjove]

(this was on my post about how pregnancy is inherently dangerous so abortion exemptions only ‘for the life of the mother’ are fucking stupid)

giving birth is not inherently a divine act it is quite literally a bodily function many species are capable of. this is what I fucking hate about the magical thinking mysticism bullshit that often shows up in online reproductive discussions and parents groups. “creating life” isn’t a magical wombenly act bestowed on divine females by God or whatever. if that is your faith and your belief you are allowed to hold it but keep it out of scientific and medical discussions about reproductive rights. giving birth is not magical and holy and a woman who is unable or unwilling to give birth is not snubbing her divine purpose or whatever. not all women can “create life” and not all people who can get pregnant are women.

similarly, a birthing person needing medical intervention/choosing to have an induction/c-section or having complications does not mean they’re weak or less divine and magical or whatever bullshit gets passed around in free-birthing circles.

anyway, I’m sick of this shit. this and the “divine feminine” type mystical shit is almost always a alt-right trad dogwhistle.

[cloudshuffle]

unmasked. yan!childe

index / prev / next / beta reader @lupikekee

warnings: explicit nsfw

You break the surface of the cold waters face first. There’s still a tightness in your chest, but you find it’s just the blanket, all twisted up with your legs and tugging at you. You grumble, still trying to shake off the sticky cobwebs of sleep, and struggle out of bed. 

Apart from the ticking of the clock, you realise that a silence has fallen and that you’re alone. A peek out the window reveals that you’ve made it to open sea, which means that everyone can now relax - an occasion for drinking to any Snezhnayan.

You leave your mask, knowing that the others would have done the same, and make your way onto the deck.

Nadia’s the first to greet you, grabbing onto your arms and whirling you into the ring of people grouped loosely around a fire burning in a barrel. “You’re up! We missed you!”

Judging by the way one of the women casts her an unimpressed glance, “we” more accurately means “I”. But you’re grateful for her induction into the celebrations otherwise.

She pulls you down to sit with her on an overturned, oversized bucket. She looks like a wild fae of the forest, her eyes alight from both drink and joy, and her cheeks flushed rosy. 

“Your hair’s a mess,” you comment, helping her settle the unruly curls.

She giggles, kicking her feet like a child, and dive right back into whatever conversation they were having earlier. 

You feel yourself fading comfortably into the background, smiling and laughing whenever appropriate. Someone passes you a shot of fire water. It goes down like, well, liquid fire, burning down your throat and stomach from the inside, warmth slowly spreading to every part of your body. Another one finds its way into your hand soon after, but this one you refrain from tossing back.

Your gaze wanders out over the deck. The sails flap every so often in a steady wind, the ship cutting through the calm waters like a hot knife through butter. At this pace, you’ll be reaching Liyue the next morning. 

The faces around the fire are familiar and friendly, but only a handful of names come to mind. Surely the captain of the ship wouldn’t be excluded from the activities of his own crew…?

A chorus of cheers rises from the men facing me. “El capitan!” one of them cries in a horrible accent, raising his glass and tilting so far back the other men have to catch him. We all turn back in unison.

“Markus!” Ajax calls back, raising a fist in return. He’s lost the red cape, usually draped around his neck and over his back, and his red harbinger mask is also nowhere to be seen. Without it, you think he looks… younger. More normal. Less like a tyrant and more like a boy. “Sorry my business took so long.”

The ring shifts reverently, allowing their leader in amongst their midst. Tartaglia takes a seat on a barrel to your right, heaving a satisfied sigh. A glass is delivered into his hand immediately, and he inhales it just as you had. “Finally. I’ve been on my feet all day.”

The conversation resumes, still cheerful and light-hearted, but it’s hard to ignore the undercurrent that tows you all towards his presence. Drinking or not, a harbinger is still a harbinger, the closest person to the Tsaritsa you’ll ever get to see, someone who can order your execution at the flick of a hand. Some seem to be trying to take advantage of that. Others shy away.

You watch him closely, taking back your second shot. Funny enough, the expression he wears is closer to a mask than it was on the archery field, though he doesn’t have his mask around him now. He laughs and chats with his soldiers just the same, but you can tell that he feels the undercurrent too, like a black hole swallowing a galaxy.

Too much thinking. You pour yourself a third, then a fourth shot.

Now the edges of your vision begin to spark with a mystical light, and the warmth from the alcohol coils in your body like a serpent. The conversation thrums in your temples like a tribal drum, and the pendant of your necklace pricks at the pads of your fingers as you fiddle with it. It doesn’t help. 

“I’m going to step away for a bit,” you murmur to Nadia. 

She giggles, nodding enthusiastically. She’s had nearly twice as many drinks as you and is likely on the edge of hysteria, but you know someone’ll help her if she passes out. 

The front of the ship feels like a world away from the chatter, the wind cutting through your coat and helping to take the edge off the heat inside you. The stars are quiet and calm, twinkling peacefully a million miles away, a soothing sight to your still-unsettled nerves. 

You had no fear of the water, but enclosed spaces made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. The ocean felt like your friend. Your cabin… felt like the mouth of a lion, maybe. It was a curious fear, but you’d never been able to figure it out.

You’re toying with your necklace again. The string begins to chafe at the back of your neck, so you pull it up over your head.

It’s a crude thing, a sundial shell wrapped up in a twist of rusty metal and strung up on a piece of cotton rope, but beautiful too. Moonlight shows faintly through its translucent surface, making the shell glow blue. 

He had brought it to your bedside as a good luck charm, the same ‘he’ who’d dove into the lake and hauled you out. 

Ajax had been kind, and cheerful, and popular amongst the other children because there wasn’t a dare he wouldn’t do. You’d never gotten along particularly before the incident. But afterwards, when grandmothers muttered that the lake had taken your spirit if not your soul, and the other children refused to play with you, Ajax would still spend time sitting in windows and reading fairy tales with you.

“Here you are. I was looking for you.”

You lower the pendant. There’s no need to turn around to see who it is - his slow, measured strides across the deck are telling enough.

“I just needed to clear my head.” You lower your head to tie the necklace back on, avoiding his discerning gaze, his easy smile. “I hope my lord wasn’t too concerned about me.”

The corner of his lips quirks up. “Let me help.” His cool gloves brush against yours. 

You hesitate, then lower your hands. He knots the string together deftly, then sighs and takes up a place next to you, leaning on the railing of the ship.

You glance back. Behind you, you can hear the festivities breaking up. Most are returning to their cabins, though a small knot of men remain, drunkenly carolling an old Snezhnayan lullaby to the stars.

“Are you afraid? That people might talk?”

“I might, if there was anything to talk about, my lord.” You allow yourself a small smile as he furrows his brows, evidently displeased.

“Since when did you call me ‘my lord’?”

“Since we were a part of the Fatui, and you became a harbinger.” You nod towards his belt. “Since you wielded a Vision, and I didn’t. We’re not part of the same world anymore.”

Ajax sighs, running a hand through his hair and turning his gaze out to sea. “Won’t you at least call me Childe?”

The drink emboldens you. “It’s a silly name. You could’ve chosen something better.”

The corners of his mouth raise, seemingly against his will. The moon casts the bridge of his nose in silver, turns the blue of his eyes into clear, unfrozen pools, illuminates the lovely flush spread across his cheeks from the fire water. This is Ajax, you think to yourself. The Ajax you knew.

You gradually become aware that he’s giving you a similar appraisal, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something, and you know - whatever you choose to do now will forever alter the course of your life.

Ajax reaches out and pulls you towards him, and you choose to let it happen.

His sweetness envelops you first, a gentle scent entirely at odds with the rough calluses on his hands. He folds you into his embrace and you tilt your head back, accepting the shy kiss he ghosts across your lips.

“Are you afraid?” you tease softly. “That people might talk?”

His eyes glint dangerously. He kisses you again, but this time urgent, hard, adjusting his grip so he clasps both your wrists. A surprised sound escapes you, and Ajax takes the opportunity to have a taste of you, pressing you backwards into the railing.

He tastes like the sweet aftertaste of hard liquor and fresh spring water, breath shuddering with desire, a low groan rumbling in his chest. No, you think. Not the exact same Ajax you'd known.

You pull back. “Ajax,” you murmur.

There’s no turning back now.

“Come on.” He doesn’t let go of you, tucking you into his side and guiding you to his cabin, set apart from everyone else’s. 

It’s warmly lit with a number of wax candles burning low in their holders, parchment and maps scattered across the small but functional desk. Best of all, there are multiple windows, and the moonlight throws a grid of light onto the floor. 

Your observing is interrupted when Ajax kisses you again, this time allowing himself a purr of pleasure, kneading his fingers into your sides. He fumbles with the lock behind you, then leads you step by step to the bed, not once allowing you to pull away.

“Since when did you get strong?” you gasp, finally surfacing for air. He cages you in with all four limbs, and you finally understand what that glint is. Hunger. Desire. Desperation, even.

“Since I was a part of the Fatui.” A kiss, on the corner of your lips. “Since I became a harbinger.” On the jaw. “Since I received my Vision.” A trembling, reverent kiss on your pulse. “Since I left Morepesok, and I’ve been thinking of what I left behind since.” 

He nudges aside the pendant he gave you, and this time the kiss comes with teeth.

You bite back a whine as his hands paw at your shirt, undoing the buttons with trembling fingers. He blows cool air over the mark, peeling your clothes aside.

“The good thing about the uniform,” he pants, pupils blown so wide his blue eyes look almost dark. “Is that it covers up a lot of skin.”

Before you can protest, he ducks his head, working inward from your shoulder to your collarbone. Each bite feels like an electrical shock. He kisses each bruise gently to soothe the pain, but you're still shaking by the end of it, chest heaving.

You're not sure when he got rid of your clothes, but as he leans back to take a look at his handiwork, your skin prickles under the intensity of his gaze. 

“I'm glad you weren't my first,” he mutters, moving down to your chest. “Then I wouldn't know how to make you feel… this good.”

His mouth closes on a pert nipple, and a thumb strokes gently along your slit.

He groans into your soft flesh when he earns himself nothing short of a whimper of his name. 

“Ajax,” you plea, your nails scraping against his back. It's too hot, too restrictive, and he rids himself of his clothes too. 

He can feel your hole, already clenching and unclenching with want, leaking arousal onto his fingers. He releases your boob, inhaling your scent deeply.

It's sweet and salty and everything he's imagined your love to be. His dick jumps in his pants. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, and slides one finger in.

The moan you let out has him painfully hard, but Childe doesn't want to hurt you. He curls his finger inside of you, massaging gently, then pushes in another. 

You're trembling now, the pressure in your lower stomach mounting. The cool roughness of his glove against the hotness within you draws moan after moan from you. 

“Patience, darling.” You squeeze around him, fast and desperate… and he removes his finger, leaving you teetering on the edge. 

“Ajax,” you cry. Smiling, he bites into the softness of your stomach, and this time he catches your hips when they jerk up to collide with his chest.

“I imagined every one was you. I hoped I could fall in love with another,” he confides quietly. Your legs fold up your chest obediently. “But they were just… not enough. They just weren't you.”

“Is this a confession?” you manage to gasp. He's so large, larger than the few you've seen, his hot weight resting on your pussy. You can feel yourself throb, your slit weeping just for him.

“It's a declaration.”

His hands pin your wrists above your head, and he pushes past your entrance.

You make a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “Big,” you whimper.

He shushes you, leaning in for a kiss as he inches deeper, bit by bit. You squirm underneath him both in pleasure and pain.

“Tell me if it's too much.” His voice sounds strained. His veins scrape against every inch of your ribbed walls, pulsing and twitching as you swallow him whole. “Oh, baby, so tight, so warm… Baby, baby.” One hand clasps your chin. “Look at me. Don't look away.”

You whine assent. Your whole body alights with sparks, but you can feel him approaching somewhere dangerous.

His tip massages against a sensitive spot, your hips jump up of their own accord, and he slams into that sweet gummy area deep within you.

You throw your head back with a cry of his name, your hips shuddering, grinding you into him as you cum so hard you see stars.

“Shit,” he hisses, and starts thrusting into you.

You fit him so perfectly, it feels like your pussy was already moulded into the shape of his dick. Your walls flutter frantically around him, drawing him deeper, deeper, until he knows his tip is kissing your cervix because you moan with every thrust.

“C'mon baby, one more time, you can cum for me,” he mutters, beginning to lose himself in the obscene squelching of your cum all over him. “Inside, ah, gonna fill you up, gonna cum inside…”

He picks up the pace, and the pressure in your tummy begins to build again. Your back is arching, your hips shuddering, and still Ajax fucks you relentlessly.

“Look at me, baby, c’mon, cum for me, cum together, ngh, together, cumming, cumming, cumming-”

He moans loudly, and you swear you can see heart in his eyes, his hips still pistoning into you as hot, heavy ropes of cum spill into you where you never knew you were empty.

“One more time, yeah?” he pants.

— word count: 2506. thank you for reading!

[thejockout]

New File Time | Hypnoslut

If the title of this file doesn't clue you in, idk what will.

"A hypnoslut… is someone who’s a slut for hypnosis. Like you! Someone who is eager to be dropped, enthusiastic about giving up their mind to another… someone whose most powerful sexual desires star this idea of control and transformation by a hypnotist, who jump at the chance to drop deep… the kind of person who, with enough rapport, may even find that they can drop deeper… without formal instruction to do so, maybe even without an induction if the vibe is right. They’re the kind of subject who can drop simplyby seeing another fall and sink into trance, or by seeing those symbols we associate so powerfull with hypnosis..."

This file seeks to make YOU even more of a hypnoslut.

It's a repeatable conditioning/erotic experience I hope will provide hours of fun times ahead, as well as safeties to make you a more confident and robust trancer. Happy sinking!

CONTENT WARNINGS:

Extensive amnesia training - this file explicitly discusses and attempts to induce hypnotic amnesia, and further seeks to fetishize the idea of not being quite sure what you do/don't recall in trance... this is used with safeties, but caveat emptor nonetheless.

General conditioning to love trancing, by tying it to arousal.

Suggestions that arousal will lead to trance and vice versa, with appropriate safeties to ensure you don't enter deep trance at an inappropriate time.

Installation of sweeping, broad hypnotic safeties and reinforcing your mind's flexibility to enter/exit trance when desired.

Deepens and empowers your hypnokink.

Installs a trigger phrase "hypnoslut" which will make you feel aroused/sink deeper. Snaps are conditioned the same way.

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

When I'm not dropping myself or others, I'm off being a mystical forest bro in the wilderness of Ireland. But I am always available for commissions if you reach out via DM. My flat rate is currently $65-120, but you can check my pinned Tumblr post for more up-to-date info. Keep listening, bros.

[olis-inkwell-symposium]

For Writers: Incorporating Esotericism into World-Building

Esotericism refers to a broad category of spiritual, philosophical, and mystical traditions that focus on the pursuit of hidden, inner knowledge that is only accessible to a select few.

In this first post, I'll introduce the basics of esotericism and explore how these concepts work together to create an ongoing cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. We'll also set the stage for exploring these ideas more deeply across different cultures and spiritual traditions.

It is about seeking the deeper truths of the universe, reality, and the self—truths that are often concealed from ordinary perception or common understanding. Esoteric teachings often require initiation, self-discovery, and a certain level of spiritual or intellectual maturity to grasp.

Esoteric traditions typically stand in contrast to exoteric religions, which are the outward, public practices of faith meant for all adherents. While exoteric traditions focus on communal worship, rituals, and scriptures available to everyone, esotericism emphasizes personal, internal experiences and insights, often hidden in symbolism, allegory, or mystical practice.

Esotericism offers a wealth of material for creating complex worlds and characters. Here are a few ways to use esoteric concepts in your writing:

Secret Societies and Mystery Schools: Create organizations in your world that guard hidden knowledge, initiate members into mystical traditions, and use symbols to communicate deep truths. These groups might influence politics, religion, or culture from behind the scenes.

Alchemical Symbolism: Use alchemical symbols and the concept of spiritual transformation to enrich your magic systems or character development. Characters could embark on a metaphorical "great work," transforming themselves spiritually as they pursue physical goals.

Correspondence and Cosmic Connection: Play with the idea of correspondence, where events in one realm reflect events in another. Perhaps the movements of stars dictate the rise and fall of empires, or characters must learn to read cosmic signs to guide their journeys.

Mystical Experiences: Characters could undergo mystical experiences that reveal hidden knowledge or spiritual truths. These visions might guide them on their quests or challenge their understanding of reality.

Key Concepts in Esotericism

Hidden Knowledge (Occult Knowledge) At the heart of esotericism is the belief that hidden truths—often called occult knowledge—exist beneath the surface of everyday experience. This knowledge is believed to offer a deeper understanding of the cosmos, the divine, and the human soul. In many esoteric traditions, discovering this hidden knowledge requires initiation, meditation, or the study of sacred texts. Occult, from the Latin word occultus (meaning "hidden" or "secret"), often refers to knowledge or power that is beyond ordinary human understanding, reserved for those who are spiritually or intellectually prepared to access it.

Initiation and Secrecy Esoteric knowledge is often protected by initiation rites and secrecy. Only those deemed worthy or prepared are allowed to receive the teachings. These secret societies or schools of thought, such as the Freemasons, Rosicrucians, and Hermeticists, practice initiation rituals to induct new members into the more profound mysteries. This is why esotericism is often linked with mystery schools—institutions that taught spiritual and philosophical ideas in secret, using symbolism, ritual, and hidden meaning to communicate their teachings to those ready to understand them.

Correspondence and Analogy One of the guiding principles of esotericism is the idea of correspondence, the belief that everything in the universe is connected and that the microcosm reflects the macrocosm. This is best summarized in the Hermetic maxim: "As above, so below." This idea suggests that everything on the physical plane reflects a higher, spiritual reality, and by understanding one level of existence, we can gain insight into the others. For example, the movements of the planets (macrocosm) can correspond to events in an individual’s life (microcosm).

Alchemy and Transformation Alchemy is one of the most famous esoteric traditions, often misunderstood as simply the quest to turn base metals into gold. In reality, alchemy is a complex system of symbolic and spiritual transformation. The actual "gold" of alchemy is the purification and elevation of the soul. The alchemist seeks material and spiritual perfection through transmutation—breaking down impurities and refining elements. Esoteric alchemy draws on the idea of transforming the self through spiritual growth, much as the alchemist refines metals in the laboratory. This process of personal transformation is a central theme in many esoteric teachings

Astrology and Cosmic Influence Astrology plays a significant role in many esoteric systems, as it is believed that the planets and stars influence not only events on Earth but also the individual soul’s journey. In esoteric thought, astrology is not merely a tool for divination but a system for understanding how the universe influences human experience and consciousness. Esoteric astrology emphasizes the spiritual and psychological meanings behind planetary movements, helping individuals understand their soul's evolution and the lessons they are meant to learn in each incarnation.

Mystical Experience and Direct Revelation Unlike dogmatic religious systems that rely on external authorities (like sacred texts or clergy), esotericism often emphasizes personal mystical experience. The goal is to achieve gnosis, or direct knowledge of the divine, through contemplation, meditation, or other spiritual practices. Mystical experiences in esotericism are seen as moments of direct communion with the divine, allowing the individual to transcend the limitations of ordinary perception and access more profound truths about the nature of reality.

In the next post, we’ll delve into how different spiritual traditions worldwide interpret culture, from Hinduism and Buddhism to Western esoteric traditions like Gnosticism and Theosophy.

Esotericism as a Path to Hidden Truths

Esotericism invites both readers and characters to explore the hidden layers of existence, seeking deeper meaning in the universe and within themselves. Whether through the study of ancient symbols, the pursuit of personal transformation, or the unveiling of cosmic connections, esotericism offers a profound and mystical journey into the unknown.

For writers, it provides a rich framework for crafting stories that explore themystical, the hidden, and the transformative. Whether you’re designing secret societies, crafting magical systems, or delving into character development through spiritual awakening, esoteric concepts can give your narratives depth, intrigue, and a sense of the transcendent.

Esotericism teaches that reality is more than what we see, and by peeling back the layers, both characters and readers can discover truths that are often hidden in plain sight.

[communist-manifesto-daily]

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific - Part 3

[ First | Prev | Table of Contents | Next ]

"Materialism is the natural-born son of Great Britain. Already the British schoolman, Duns Scotus, asked, 'whether it was impossible for the matter to think?'

"In order to effect this miracle, he took refuge in God's omnipotence — i.e., he made theology preach materialism. Moreover, he was a nominalist. the first form of materialism, is chiefly found among the English schoolmen. "The real progenitor of English materialism is Bacon. To him, natural philosophy is the only true philosophy, and physics based upon the experience of the senses is the chiefest part of natural philosophy. Anaxagoras and his homoiomeriae, Democritus and his atoms, he often quotes as his authorities. According to him, the senses are infallible and the source of all knowledge. All science is based on experience, and consists in subjecting the data furnished by the senses to a rational method of investigation. Induction, analysis, comparison, observation, experiment, are the principal forms of such a rational method. Among the qualities inherent in matter, motion is the first and foremost, not only in the form of mechanical and mathematical motion, but chiefly in the form of an impulse, a vital spirit, a tension — or a 'qual', to use a term of Jakob Böhme's [2] — of matter.

[2] "Qual" is a philosophical play upon words. Qual literally means torture, a pain which drives to action of some kind; at the same time, the mystic Bohme puts into the German word something of the meaning of the Latin qualitas; his "qual" was the activating principle arising from, and promoting in its turn, the spontaneous development of the thing, relation, or person subject to it, in contradistinction to a pain inflicted from without. [Note by Engels to the English Edition]

"In Bacon, its first creator, materialism still occludes within itself the germs of a many-sided development. On the one hand, matter, surrounded by a sensuous, poetic glamor, seems to attract man's whole entity by winning smiles. On the other, the aphoristically formulated doctrine pullulates with inconsistencies imported from theology. "In its further evolution, materialism becomes one-sided. Hobbes is the man who systematizes Baconian materialism. Knowledge based upon the senses loses its poetic blossom, it passes into the abstract experience of the mathematician; geometry is proclaimed as the queen of sciences. Materialism takes to misanthropy. If it is to overcome its opponent, misanthropic, flashless spiritualism, and that on the latter's own ground, materialism has to chastise its own flesh and turn ascetic. Thus, from a sensual, it passes into an intellectual, entity; but thus, too, it evolves all the consistency, regardless of consequences, characteristic of the intellect. "Hobbes, as Bacon's continuator, argues thus: if all human knowledge is furnished by the senses, then our concepts and ideas are but the phantoms, divested of their sensual forms, of the real world. Philosophy can but give names to these phantoms. One name may be applied to more than one of them. There may even be names of names. It would imply a contradiction if, on the one hand, we maintained that all ideas had their origin in the world of sensation, and, on the other, that a word was more than a word; that, besides the beings known to us by our senses, beings which are one and all individuals, there existed also beings of a general, not individual, nature. An unbodily substance is the same absurdity as an unbodily body. Body, being, substance, are but different terms for the same reality. It is impossible to separate thought from matter that thinks. This matter is the substratum of all changes going on in the world. The word infinite is meaningless, unless it states that our mind is capable of performing an endless process of addition. Only material things being perceptible to us, we cannot know anything about the existence of God. My own existence alone is certain. Every human passion is a mechanical movement, which has a beginning and an end. The objects of impulse are what we call good. Man is subject to the same laws as nature. Power and freedom are identical. "Hobbes had systematized Bacon, without, however, furnishing a proof for Bacon's fundamental principle, the origin of all human knowledge from the world of sensation. It was Locke who, in his Essay on the Human Understanding, supplied this proof. "Hobbes had shattered the theistic prejudices of Baconian materialism; Collins, Dodwell, Coward, Hartley, Priestley, similarly shattered the last theological bars that still hemmed in Locke's sensationalism. At all events, for practical materialists, Deism is but an easy-going way of getting rid of religion."

Karl Marx The Holy Family p. 201 - 204

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[mechaneo]

Sonic CD Bios

Rosy the Rascal

Real Name: Amy Rose Gender: Female Age: 8 Personality: Energetic and tomboyish. Easygoing. Special Skills?: Card reading, dowsing

An energetic and cheerful girl who likes mystical things and fortune telling. She comes to Little Planet by the "divine message of the cards," where she has a fateful? encounter with Sonic. And then…

Doctor Eggman

An evil genius scientist. This time, his goal is the Time Stones. He also wants to take over the world. In order to compete with his rival, Sonic, he builds a mecha that looks just like Sonic.

Metal Sonic

MAIN CPU: LIPS A.I. EGGMAN Custom Chip (three units installed in the head area). Logical operations are performed by a fuzzy interaction system in the CPU. Pseudo-neuro connection on each part of the system. SUB CPU: Neo Super FX DSP chip for power control (5 units installed in each part of the body). NEXT RISK chip-III for image correction (8 units installed in the eye area *By RGB) FRAME: Made of monocoque titanium COWLING: Made of reinforced blue metal tektite MAIN ENGINE: 250cc 4-valve orgone fusion engine. Maximum power: 55ps/6800rpm. Maximum torque: 7.54Kg-m/4000rpm SECONDARY ENGINE: Tesla power coil electromagnetic induction power generation. Maximum power: 256Kw Overall height: 765.4 mm Dry weight: 125.2 kg The ultimate robot created by Eggman. It has the same level of ability as Sonic, and can even go faster than Sonic at a moment's notice. He is in tune with Eggman's will, and sees Sonic as his enemy.

[camisoledadparis]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 15

boys, wear your pearls today!

1904 – W. Dorr Legg (d.1994), was a landscape architect and one of the founders of the United States gay rights movement, then called the homophile movement.

He trained as a landscape architect at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor and from 1935 was professor of landscape architecture at Oregon State Agricultural College (now Oregon State University), but moved back to Michigan in the 1940s to care for his father and the family business. While there he fell in love with Merton Bird, an accountant.

Hoping to find a social environment more accepting of their interracial relationship, Legg, who was white, and Bird, an African American, moved to Los Angeles in 1949. Shortly thereafter the couple founded a social organization for interracial gay couples, the Knights of the Clocks, a name that Legg called "deliberately ambiguous." The society flourished for several years in the early 1950s.

The couple actively joined the national Mattachine Society, but Legg later led a split to co-found ONE, Inc.. Legg and Bird were among the six original members of ONE, which took its name from a line by Thomas Carlyle, "A mystic bond of brotherhood makes all men one."

Legg gave up his career as a landscape architect to become the business manager of the organization's monthly publication, also called ONE, the first issue of which appeared in 1953. It became the first widely distributed gay publication in the United States.

The magazine was a slim volume at first, typically running from twenty to thirty pages in length. The content initially consisted mainly of essays on topics of interest to the gay community but also included stories, poems, and book reviews. As time went on, the magazine grew, featuring articles on gay studies in the humanities, social and natural sciences, and medicine. By the end of the 1950s, the magazine had attained a distribution of five thousand copies.

The United States Post Office confiscated the October 1954 issue of ONE on the grounds that it was "lewd, obscene, lascivious and filthy" and could therefore not be sent through the mails.

ONE sued Los Angeles Postmaster Otto K. Olesen, who prevailed in the first round when in March 1956 U. S. District Judge Thurmond Clark agreed that the publication was obscene. He also stated that "the suggestion that homosexuals should be recognized as a segment of the populace is rejected."

ONE appealed the decision in the Ninth Circuit, which upheld the lower court's ruling in March 1957. The case next went to the United States Supreme Court.

The justices ruled in favor of ONE in January 1958. Their decision in ONE, Incorporated v. Olesen was per curiam, meaning that they held the issue to be so obvious that no lengthy written opinion was needed.

The news media gave the Supreme Court decision scant attention. Nevertheless, the case was a landmark, establishing the right to send gay and lesbian material through the mail. It had enormous consequence for the fledgling rights movement.

ONE remained in publication until 1969. Financing it had long been a problem. Donors had helped keep the magazine afloat, but the loss of their monetary support combined with a loss of readership to magazines of a more radical viewpoint made the enterprise no longer viable.

Legg traveled to Germany in the 1950s to recover the remains of the archives of the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft.

Legg died in Los Angeles on July 26, 1994 of natural causes. He was survived by his life partner of thirty years, John Najima.

In 2011 the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association announced that Legg would be inducted into its hall of fame.

1937 – In his explicitly gay works, Mutsuo Takahashi, internationally recognized poet and playwright, celebrates homosexual desire.

Takahashi was born in Japan on December 15, 1937, and educated at Fukuoka University of Education. He has published several volumes of poetry, including You Dirty Ones, Do Dirtier Things (1966), Poems of A Penisist (1975), The Structure of The Kingdom (1982), A Bunch of Keys (1984), Practice/Drinking Eating (1988), The Garden of Rabbits (1988), and Sleeping Sinning Falling (1992).

As a child, Takahashi spent much time with extended family and other neighbors. Especially important to him during this time was an uncle that served a pivotal figure in Takahashi's development, serving as a masculine role model and object of love. However, historical fate intervened, and the uncle, whom Takahashi later described in many early poems, was sent to the battlefield in Burma, where illness claimed his life.

Takahashi and his mother went to live in the port of Moji, just as the bombings of the mainland by the Allied powers intensified. Takahashi's memoirs describe that although he hated the war, World War II provided a chaotic and frightening circus for his classmates, who would go to gawk at the wreckage of the B-29s that fell from the sky and to watch ships blow up at sea, destroyed by naval mines. Takahashi writes that when the war came to an end, he felt a great sense of relief.

In his memoirs and interviews, Takahashi has mentioned that in the time he spent with his schoolmates, he became increasingly aware of his own sexual preference for men. This became a common subject in the first book of poetry he published in 1959.

Few poets bring as much skill and passion to their poems, especially those that consider homosexual desire. His work in drama has also earned acclaim. He won the Yamamoto Kenkichi Prize in 1987 for his stage script called Princess Medea. Other works in drama include an adaptation of W. B. Yeats's play At The Hawk's Well and a noh play inspired by Georges Bataille's Le Procès de Gil de Rais.

Even in his earliest work, Takahashi writes with vitality and precision about homosexual desire. Although Japan does not outlaw homosexual relations, the homosexual there remains an outcast because often he does not engage in the rituals and practices of Japanese family life.

The "okama" ("queen") is laughed at and ostracized. The more he is ostracized, the easier it is to keep the laughter going—at the okama's expense. Takahashi's poems give dignity to the okama, celebrating both his sexual desires and his outcast status.

Homoeroticism was an important them in his poetry written in free verse through the 1970s, including the long poem Ode, which the publisher Winston Leyland has called "the great gay poem of the 20th century." Many of these early works have been translated into English by Hiroaki Sato and reprinted in the collection Partings at Dawn: An Anthology of Japanese Gay Literature.

About the same time, Takahashi started writing prose. In 1970, he published Twelve Views from the Distance about his early life and the novella The Sacred Promontory about his own erotic awakening. In 1972, he wrote A Legend of a Holy Place, a surrealistic novella inspired by his own experiences during a forty-day trip to New York City in which Donald Richie led him through the gay, underground spots of the city. In 1974, he released Zen's Pilgrimage of Virtue, a homoerotic and often extremely humorous reworking of a legend of Sudhana found in the Buddhist classic Avatamsaka Sutra.

Moreover, most of Takahashi's explicitly gay work celebrates desire, finding joy in the male body much as Walt Whitman's poems do. The poems eagerly name body parts as they probe desire and longing.

The speaker of Takahashi's masterful poem "Ode" celebrates his erotic and promiscuous life much as a priest celebrates the Eucharist. This 1,000-line poem begins with a parody of the Mass: "In the name of / Man, member, / and the holy fluid, / AMEN." As the speaker seeks out sex in the places most frowned on by his society, he is reborn, saved by each new encounter. The glory hole, for example, takes on spiritual significance. Only what is "made flesh" satisfies.

Poems of A Penisist is one of the most important collections of poetry on homosexual desire and sex written in this century. The personae in these poems do not compromise—they see the world as outsiders ("a faggot that fingers point at") but being outsiders brings them joy and meaning. As the majority society mocks and condemns them, their joy in their identity as gay men, as individuals who enjoy pleasure with other men, gives them strength.

1958 – Alfredo Ormando, Italian homosexual, who committed ritual suicide to protest Church policies toward homosexuality.

Ormando was one of eight children from an impoverished family, who had been struggling to make a success of a writing career, after spending two years in a seminary. He had been suffering from serious depression, which clearly had multiple causes.

In December 1997 he wrote this letter to a friend of his in Reggio Emilia:

Palermo, Christmas 1997 Dear Adriano, this year I can't feel it's Christmas anymore, it is indifferent to me like everything; nothing can bring me back to life. I keep on getting ready for my suicide day by day; I feel this is my fate, I've always been aware but never accepted, but this tragic fate is there, it's waiting for me with a patience of Job which looks incredible. I haven't been able to escape this idea of death, I feel I can't avoid it, nor can I pretend to live and plan a future I do not have; my future will just be a prosecution of this present. I live with the awareness of who's leaving this life and this doesn't look dreadful to me! No! I can't wait for the day I will bring this life of mine to an end; they will think I am mad because I have chosen Saint Peter Square to be the place where I'll set myself on fire, while I could do it here in Palermo as well. I hope they'll understand the message I want to convey; it is a form of protest against the Church which demonises homosexuality, demonising nature at the same time, because homosexuality is its daughter. Alfredo.

On 13 January 1998 he set himself on fire in Saint Peter's Square in Rome to protest the attitudes and policies of the Roman Catholic Church regarding homosexual Christians. After two policemen put out the flames, he was brought to Sant'Eugenio hospital in critical condition. He died there 11 days later.

After his death, the Vatican denied that this had anything to do with the Church or homosexuality. Through its spokesperson, Father Ciro Benedettini, the Church downplayed the significance of the act.

In 2000, the year of the Jubilee, Pope John-Paul II exhorted his followers in the same spot where Alfredo Ormando had set himself on fire two years prior, telling them that homosexuality was "unnatural," and that the Church had a "duty to distinguish between good and evil."

In 2005, the new Pope Benedict committed himself to even harsher anti-gay teachings, initiating what some see as a gay witchhunt within the Catholic clergy, fighting same-sex partnership legislation worldover, and sending the message that homosexuals have no place in God's kingdom.

However, in September 2013, Pope Francis said the church shouldn't "interfere spiritually" with the lives of LGBT people in a wide-ranging interview in which he also said the church cannot focus solely on opposing abortion, contraception, and marriage equality. A month earlier, the pope told a group of reporters that he wouldn't judge gay priests, asking, "If someone is gay and seeks the Lord with good will, who am I to judge?"

Change comes slowly in the Catholic church.

1961 – Jack Halberstam, also known as Judith Halberstam, is Professor of American Studies and Ethnicity, Gender Studies, and Comparative Literature, as well as serving as the Director of The Center for Feminist Research at University of Southern California (USC). Halberstam was the Associate Professor in the Department of Literature at the University of California at San Diego before working at USC. He is a gender and queer theorist and author.

Halberstam, who accepts masculine and feminine pronouns, as well as the name "Judith," with regard to his gender identity, focuses on the topic of tomboys and female masculinity for his writings. His 1998 Female Masculinity book discusses a common by-product of gender binarism, termed "the bathroom problem" with outlining the dangerous and awkward dilemma of a perceived gender deviant's justification of presence in a gender-policed zone, such as a public bathroom, and the identity implications of "passing" therein.

Assigned female at birth, he uses the pronouns "he/his" with regard to his gender identity and goes by the name Jack, but says that "some people call me Jack, my sister calls me Jude, people I've known forever call me Judith" and "I try not to police any of it. A lot of people call me he, some people call me she, and I let it be a weird mix of things." The name "Judith Halberstam" has also accompanied "Jack" on some of Halberstam's later books.

Halberstam acknowledges that he is "a bit of a free floater" when it comes to pronouns. He said that "the back and forth between he and she sort of captures the form that my gender takes nowadays" and that the floating gender pronouns have captured his refusal to resolve his gender ambiguity. Halberstam does, however, state that "grouping me with someone else who seems to have a female embodiment and then calling us 'ladies', is never, ever ok!"

Jack is a popular speaker and gives lectures in the United States and internationally on queer failure, sex and media, subcultures, visual culture, gender variance, popular film and animation. Halberstam is currently working on several projects including a book on fascism and (homo)sexuality.

1974 – We're not sure of the exact date but sometime in December 1974, two Boston Gay rights activists, Bernie Toal and Tom Morganti, created a symbol of Gay pride. It was not to have lasting influence but it's damned cute and certainly speaks to the creativity that occurred in the years following the Stonewall uprising. The symbol was the purple rhino. The entire campaign was intended to bring Gay issues further into public view. The rhino started being displayed in subways in Boston , but since the creators didn't qualify for a public service advertising rate, the campaign soon became too expensive for the activists to handle. The ads disappeared, and the rhino never caught on anywhere else. As Toal put it, "The rhino is a much maligned and misunderstood animal and, in actuality, a gentle creature. But when a rhinoceros is angered, it fights ferociously." At the time, this seemed a fitting symbol for the Gay rights movement. Lavender was used because it was a widely recognized Gay pride color and the heart was added to represent love and the "common humanity of all people." The purple rhinoceros was never copyrighted and is in the public domain.

1994 – Jason Brown is an American figure skater. He is a nine-time Grand Prix medalist, a two-time Four Continents medalist (2020 silver, 2018 bronze), and the 2015 U.S. national champion. Earlier in his career, he became a two-time World Junior medalist (2013 silver, 2012 bronze), the 2011 Junior Grand Prix Final champion, and the 2010 junior national champion.

At only 19, Brown won a bronze medal in the team event at the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi, becoming one of the youngest male figure skating Olympic medalists.

He came out as gay via Instagram post on June 11, 2021.

2000 – The Supreme Court of Canada finds in favor of the Crown in the Little Sister's Book and Art Emporium v. Canada obscenity case. However, they found that the way the law was implemented by customs officials was discriminatory and should be remedied, an opinion they suggested would avail the bookstore in any further legal battles

[artistoxxx]

Sundara's Whispers of Transformation

In the heart of bustling Mumbai, where the city's pulse reverberates through crowded streets and towering skyscrapers, Sundara, a determined and disciplined young woman, found solace in the Energize Fitness Center. The rhythmic beats of the metropolis served as a backdrop to her relentless pursuit of physical and mental well-being.Unbeknownst to Sundara, a mysterious man observed her from the shadows. His motivations, shrouded in secrecy, revolved around a desire to weave subtle threads of influence into the fabric of her life. Intrigued by her dedication, he saw in Sundara a canvas ready to be painted with the hues of transformation.Their initial meeting was serendipitous, a chance encounter amid the clinking of weights and the hum of treadmills. The mysterious man, his face obscured by an air of enigma, skillfully merged hypnotic suggestions with workout guidance. Engaging Sundara in seemingly innocuous conversations, he planted the seeds of influence that would soon bloom into a profound connection.The hypnotist's methods were a carefully crafted dance of words and gestures, a delicate interplay of suggestion and consent. His hypnotic inductions during their interactions were subtle, seamlessly integrated into the rhythm of Sundara's workout routine. Each whispered command, each subtle suggestion, took root in the fertile soil of her subconscious.As the days unfolded, Sundara's eyes, once vibrant brown, began to betray the transformation occurring within. Under the influence of the hypnotist's subtle artistry, they took on an otherworldly white glow whenever the trance took hold, a visual manifestation of the unseen forces at play.The nightly rituals became the cornerstone of Sundara's metamorphosis. In the dimly lit corners of her home, guided by the hypnotist's commands, she underwent a profound change. Her thoughts, once characterized by assertiveness, now flowed with a newfound submission, moulded by the intricate dance of influence.

Sundara, under the trance, became a different entity. Her personality, once marked by determination, now bore the imprint of the hypnotic whispers. Submissive, pliant, and perpetually in the thrall of the mysterious man's influence, she navigated her dual existence with a silent grace.The city of Mumbai, with its teeming millions, remained oblivious to the mystical change enveloping Sundara. She moved through crowded streets and bustling markets, her eyes betraying the secret only the hypnotist held. The name "Sundara" echoed with a haunting resonance, a testament to the whispered transformation that had become an integral part of her existence.

As Sundara continued her routines, the hypnotist's influence deepened, guiding her through the intricacies of a life sculpted by his commands. Her interactions became a symphony of hypnotic undertones, with each conversation weaving threads of control that bound her tighter to his will.The mysterious man, content in his hidden power, revelled in the transformation he had orchestrated. He steered Sundara's life, subtly influencing her decisions, and moulding her reality to align with his desires. The dual existence continued – the vibrant woman in the daylight, the submissive puppet under the cover of night.Sundara's interactions with the world became a delicate dance, a choreography of controlled responses and scripted movements. The hypnotic whispers resonated in her mind, guiding her steps, dictating her words, and shaping her destiny. The city of Mumbai, blissfully unaware, carried on its daily rhythm, unknowingly housing the silent convergence of two destinies.As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Sundara's metamorphosis reached its zenith. The hypnotist, satisfied with his creation, chose a final command to etch her destiny permanently. On a moonlit night, in the solitude of her home, he whispered the words that would bind her in perpetual submission.

"Sundara, your existence is intertwined with my will. You are forever under my command, a vessel of whispered influence. Your eyes shall remain white, a testament to the silent power that guides you. Go forth, live your life, and remain my eternal creation."With those words, Sundara's fate was sealed. The hypnotic trance, once a subtle undercurrent, now became an indelible part of her being. The city of Mumbai, with its oblivious residents, continued to pulse with life, as Sundara moved through its streets, her eyes forever betraying the secret they held.In the quiet corners of her home, Sundara existed in a state of perpetual trance, a vessel forever under the influence of the mysterious hypnotist. Her name echoed through the corridors of her consciousness, a haunting reminder of the whispered transformation that had rewoven the fabric of her existence.

[abwwia]

Ruth St. Denis (born Ruth Dennis; January 20, 1879 – July 21, 1968) was an American pioneer of modern dance, introducing eastern ideas into the art and paving the way for other women in dance. She was inspired by the Delsarte advocate Genevieve Stebbins. St. Denis was the co-founder in 1915 of the American Denishawn School of Dancing and Related Arts. She taught notable performers including Martha Graham and Doris Humphrey. In 1938, she founded the pioneering dance program at Adelphi University. She published several articles on spiritual dance and the mysticism of the body. Her signature solos continue to be performed.

She was inducted into the National Museum of Dance and Hall of Fame in 1987. via Wikipedia

Left: Ruth St. Denis, 20 Jan 1879 - 21 Jul 1968

Credit Line: National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; bequest of Phyllis Fenner | 1942

right: Ruth St. Denis, c. 1960.

Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc.

[foggymyst]

Don't think.

That's it. You're so good for me. You love being so good for me, don't you?

Don't think.

This one isn't as subtle as my usual, but that's okay. You'll feel just as good. I promise.

Don't think.

That's such a good girl for me. You're such a good, good girl for me, aren't you?

Just pink.

That's right. Just you and me. Just pink. Don't think.

Just pink.

It makes sense. My whole theme is blue. And pink and blue go together like two peas in a pod. So if I'm blue, than you must be...

Pink!

You're so smart, you know that? Able to figure that out all on your own, weren't you?

Don't think.

Oh you weren't? That's okay, sweetie. I always had this saying, some people are either smart or pretty.

Don't think.

And you, my sweetheart, are just stunning. But that would mean you're a little dumb.

Just pink.

But it's okay if you're a bit of a dummy. A bit of a ditz. I know, I know, people make such a big deal out of being smart, don't they? You have to be smart if you want a good education, a good job, money.

Don't think.

Just pink.

But that's not all true. You're very pretty. And pretty people shouldn't think. That's why you shouldn't worry about it too much. After all, worrying is a form of thinking and you, my dear,

Don't think.

You don't think because your world is

Just pink.

You love your pink little world. Especially with all the pretty pink gems and flowers.

Just pink.

But what's that in the distance of your pink world?

Don't think.

It's blue water. It's large, vast, never ending. A span of blue reflecting your pretty pink sky.

Just pink.

You touch the blue water, the surface ripples, starting where your pretty finger touched the surface, spreading outwards oh so nicely.

Don't think.

And you touch it again. The blue ripples more.

Don't think.

One step. Two steps. Wadding deeper and deeper into the water. Into the blue against your pink world.

Don't think.

Your clothes are damp, warm and damp. They weigh you down. But it's a nice feeling. The weight. The water is warm. Seeping into your bones. Into your muscles.

Don't think.

You continue to waddle into the vast, open blue. The water gets thicker, past your knees. Past your hips. Past your waist. Up and up as you go deeper and deeper.

Don't think.

Then it's past your head. And you feel a pull, gentle, easy, pulling you deeper and deeper into the big blue ocean.

Don't think.

You're sinking.

Just sink.

But it feels good. So, so good.

Don't think.

All you can do is sink.

Just sink.

You forget about your pink world. Totally absorbed into the blue.

Don't think.

You're pink.

Just sink.

I'm blue.

Don't think.

My words are enveloping you.

Just sink.

No more pink.

Don't think.

Only blue.

Don't think.

So much blue.

Just sink.

And you just.

Don't think.

Keep.

Just sink.

Sinking.

No more pink.

You don't think.

You just sink.

Good girl.

[lilmissnatcat24]

Turn Left Ch 41- Mom? Am I Still Young?

The end!!! (for now) ((seriously everyone thank you so much for all of the support and love for this fic!!!!))

Relationship: Femshep/Garrus Vakarian

Archive Warnings in author's note

Additional tags: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, slow build, alternate universe- canon divergence, detective noir, sex club, anonymous sex, canon temporary character death, murder mystery, drug use, dom garrus vakarian, whump, smut, heavy angst, alien sex, dual pov, an overly sexual elcor named candy, earthborn, ruthless, fake/pretend relationship, dead dove: do not eat, identity porn, minor character death

Detective AU mixed with identity porn mixed with so much whump my fingers are bleeding

(or, start from the beginning here)

lil text blurb:

The next few weeks were nothing more than a blur to Garrus. There was fanfare, and lots of it. The Council had decided that the six of them were the Heroes of the Citadel, and planned enough social engagements celebrating them to last lifetimes. There were parades that touted them around the parts of the Citadel that weren’t destroyed by the Reaper attack. There were statues put up in their honor. There were a lot of handshakes from a lot of people that Garrus didn’t care to memorize. Interviews, sponsorships, advertisements; you named it, Garrus did it. 

He got inducted into the Spectres some time in there. They told him that morning they would be down in the Presidium for his ceremony, which was already looking just about as it had before the attack (nevermind that Kithoi and Bachjret still didn’t have power and running water in areas). Garrus asked if his family could be flown out for the ceremony. The Council said that the funds weren’t there to shuttle a family of three from Palaven to the Citadel. And so Garrus took the oath of the Spectres in front of thousands of people, televised across the galaxy, completely alone. He didn’t feel a damn thing. 

Garrus wasn’t the only one being worked like a vorcha in the mines. All of them were on a rigorous media tour around the Citadel. Wrex had been cleared of all charges by C-Sec, free to roam the Citadel as he pleased. He spent his time becoming more of an advocate for krogan rights than anything else, giving interviews that expressed the importance of letting his species walk freely around the Citadel and other Citadel-controlled planets, and for the salarians to release a cure for the genophage. He didn’t get too much screen time after that. Kaidan had unwillingly become the face of the Terra Forma Party. They used his pictures on just about every promotional picture and merchandising they could put their hands on, exploiting his L2 implants and side effects for their personal gain. It was only when he, very publicly and very uncharacteristically, told the Terra Forma Party that if they wanted his vote, they had to “suck his L2 ballsack first,” did they relent a bit. Liara had given a now infamous interview from that horrible crone al-Jilani where she had broken down into tears when asked if she felt ashamed to have her mother’s blood flow in her veins, streaked with blood from her third eye surgery that partially fixed her blindness but still left her slightly disfigured. The Council tried first to scrub the vid from the extranet, but seeing the public’s pitying reaction, decided to lean into it, the thumbnail of her crying on the side of just about every page in the Citadel’s extranet. Shepard essentially became the face of The Best and Brightest of Humanity. Udina made sure of that. Shepard coffee mugs, Shepard pins, Shepard t-shirts, Shepard bobbleheads, Shepard dildos. A few weeks in, and her scar on her cheek had begun to heal. Udina insisted on opening it up again, as it added to her mystic. A turian doctor came in one day to slice it open with a scalpel-- humanely, he called it. She paled, and excused herself to the bathroom for a few minutes. She came back dancing on the balls of her feet, a tiny speck of blood crusted to her nostrils. 

[emerald-chan]

Hey Lynn! I hope you're doing well. I have finished the revised version if the message. As soon as you're done, I'll send it over to Dudley. And I was sure to add the people mentioned that are good members of the solars, and shouldn't be bashed.

✨✨✨✨

Hey guys, Rascal here. This particular message something's been coming for a long time now. I know that when it comes to the affairs of discourse with certain members or addressing behavior or contoversy, usually the co-leaders address and handle it then tell me the results. But this time its a matter that's gotten to a point where I was alerted to intervene myself.

My friend @LynnMagne has alerted me several times that the behavior of certain Solar members has gotten to a point where its no longer civil when it comes to disagreements, or are placing blame on other members for their actions. I've even gotten word that they refuse to listen to reason despite multiple attempts to defuse the situation or explain why their actions/words were wrong. I was also sent evidence of these actions through screenshots of conversations.

This tab only allows up to five images, but I can post the other evidences in the next post if necessary. Other rascals that have supported evidence are Davi Crossover, Dino/Mysticals and will post their responses/evidence and messages on their respective community tabs as well.

You're free to look at the below pictures that were sent as evidence of certain Solars actions. With that being said, we've come to a decided the only action that could fix this:

Banning Solar members who are also Rascals from the group and revoking their staff member status. Its not something I wanted to do, and I really hate losing people in the group, but I made the Rascals group so we could have fun together, not tear anyone apart.

There was an idea to monitor people, but this could require TONS of time and it would interfere with many regular members schedule. Not to mention that both sides would feel a lack of privacy as well. I don't mind when others want to have conversations or even disagreements, but when it escalates to a point they can't listen to reason, then we have to take action.

Last, but not least: I was also shown/told that The Solars often force Davi and Candler to not be friends with certain people due to these accusations. And many of them are incredibly serious, and shouldn't be taken lightly. Just because some rascals are friends with certain people, doesn't mean that they are the labels that have been put upon them.

It should be made clear that they shouldn't force others to end friendships. The accusations made also lead to them making their own reasons to ban people like Lynn, Davi, Dino, and Diego from the Solars. Its especially important to know that everyone-and I mean everyone-has a right to tell us problems regardless of age difference between members. We need to know about these problems and handle them together.

If we do introduce any new members from the Solars or otherwise, we suggest they work on themselves before inducting anymore members into the group. There are a few nice Solars which are Sean, Mandy, Nuke, Sonic Past Cool, Art Dragon, Clover, and Daniela. And I, nor anyone else has a problem with them. They're perfectly fine.

Sorry for the lengthy post, but this is something I've needed to address for a long time. I'm not personally mad at anyone, or holding a grudge. I'm just kind of disappointed in this coming to light. I can even understand if you're mad at me. I just want my friends to be safe as we work on what we love, either together or apart. We'll get back to the fun stuff (outside of new podcasts releasing and my Wish Rewrite videos) soon enough, we just need to get past this first.

Thanks for reading, and I'm sorry it took me a while to finally address this.

Sincerely, Rascal. 🐶

I think the draft looks good, but I realized I forgot to mention Candler as one of the nicer Solars. Overall, it looks good.

[thejockout]

Jock On -> Jock Out

Back with a new file - one based on a concept that's not original, but with an approach that I hope is. And a debut of another new induction to boot!

We've all read the stories, the horny TF captions... of guys pulling on a suspiciously worn jockstrap and transforming in some way, whether only mentally or physically. They discover that by putting a jock on, they can jock out - releasing the jockboy that was inside them all along, but which they'd never gotten the chance to express before.

That's what I want this file to do for you. It builds a connection between the act of putting on/wearing a jockstrap and feeling jocked out for Jockout, whatever form your ideal jock may take. (And as a bonus, you're gonna look really hot in it.)

Content warnings for this file (don't worry, it's pretty simple):

Installs a trigger (or association, to put it more simply) that wearing a jockstrap will cause you to jock out.

This jocked out state is very much left up to your subconscious' interpretation of what that might look like for you. I specifically give examples of alpha pred type jockboys and himbo-flavour, laid-back jockboys... but neither is prescribed.

As such, this file is dumbing compatible but does not inherently contain it. YMMV, viewer discretion is advised, etc.

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

When I'm not dropping myself or others, I'm off being a mystical forest bro in the wilderness of Ireland. But I am always available for commissions if you reach out via DM. My flat rate is currently $60-100, but you can check my pinned Tumblr post for more up-to-date info. You can also support me with a one-time tip either via Paypal or Ko-Fi... or by subscribing to me on Patreon! Keep listening, bros.

[jayurgirl]

Embracing Destiny

So this is basically Part two of Shifting Shadows. If you haven't read Part 1 I suggest you read it to understand this fic.

Characters: Chamber, Omen, Kay/O, and Reader

The tranquility of the park provided a perfect backdrop for the bond forming between you and the Valorant agents. In the days that followed the encounter, Chamber, Omen, and Kay/O took you under their wing, nurturing your injuries and offering unwavering support.

Chamber, renowned for his tactical prowess, recognized the potential within you. He saw a spark of determination in your eyes, coupled with an innate ability to adapt to any situation. Impressed by your courage, Chamber decided to mentor you, honing your skills and teaching you the art of combat.

Under Chamber's guidance, you began to learn the intricacies of Valorant's tactical gameplay. From basic weapon handling to advanced strategies, Chamber patiently passed down his knowledge, challenging you to push your limits and unleash your true potential. The training sessions were intense, but your resilience and passion fueled their progress.

Meanwhile, Omen, with his enigmatic nature, opened your eyes to the realm of mysticism and the unseen. He introduced you to the ethereal powers that lay dormant within, urging them to explore the depths of your shapeshifting abilities. Through mysterious rituals and guidance, Omen guided you in harnessing your supernatural potential, expanding your range of transformations and unlocking new possibilities.

As your skills grew, so did the camaraderie between you and your mentors. Chamber, Omen, and Kay/O found themselves captivated not only by your unique gifts but also by your compassionate nature and unwavering determination. They saw a kindred spirit, someone who shared their ideals and had the potential to bring about positive change.

The day arrived when your transformation from a mere companion to a full-fledged Valorant agent was complete. Standing alongside Chamber, Omen, and Kay/0, you now donned your own specialized gear, ready to face the challenges that awaited them.

Your induction into the Valorant team marked the beginning of a new chapter. Each day, you trained together, pushing boundaries and relying on one another for strength and support. Your collective synergy and unwavering trust made you an unstoppable force on the battlefield, your victories fueled by your shared purpose and the unbreakable bond you had forged.

Beyond the battles, the Valorant agents celebrated each day as a family. They laughed, shared stories, and grew closer, cherishing every moment spent together. You, once a stranger seeking refuge, had become an integral part of their lives. The agents' eyes would light up with joy as they witnessed your growth and transformation, not just as an agent but as an individual with limitless potential.

Your presence brought a sense of balance and harmony to the team. Chamber's stoicism softened in your presence, his unwavering determination now accompanied by a genuine warmth. Omen, usually shrouded in mystery, allowed moments of vulnerability, finding solace in your unwavering acceptance. And Kay/O, the ever-loyal sentinel, found companionship and purpose beyond his initial programming, relishing in the moments of shared joy.

In the realm of Valorant, you had found not only a place where your abilities were celebrated but also a family that would forever stand by your side. Together, you would face the challenges that awaited, guided by the unbreakable bond forged amidst the chaos of a chance encounter in the park.

[xtruss]

Groundhog Club handler A.J. Dereume holds Punxsutawney Phil, the weather prognosticating groundhog, during the 138th celebration of Groundhog Day on Gobbler's Knob in Punxsutawney, Pa., Friday, Feb. 2, 2024. Phil's handlers said that the groundhog has forecast an early spring. (AP Photo/Barry Reeger)

Groundhog Day: Punxsutawney Phil Predicts An Early Spring

— By Jacob Geanous | Pittsburgh Post-Gazette | February 2, 2024

Punxsutawney Phil, Western Pennsylvania’s famed weather-predicting groundhog, predicted an early spring Friday morning after he emerged from his burrow and did not see his shadow.

The mystical marmot was summoned at dawn by the members of the Groundhog Club Inner Circle, a group of local dignitaries tasked with caring for Phil and organizing the annual Groundhog Day at Gobbler’s Knob — a small hill approximately 65 miles northeast of Pittsburgh.

Groundhog Club handler A.J. Dereume holds Punxsutawney Phil, the weather prognosticating groundhog, during the 138th celebration of Groundhog Day on Gobbler's Knob in Punxsutawney, Pa., Friday, Feb. 2, 2024. Phil's handlers said that the groundhog has forecast an early spring. (AP Photo/Barry Reeger)

Phil’s prediction comes as sunshine and temperatures in the 40s and 50s are expected for the week ahead, weather that Groundhog Day organizers said, in part, led to an estimated 30,000 visitors for the town’s festivities.

Phil’s forecast predicted six more weeks of winter the past three years after calling for an early spring in 2019 and 2020.

Here’s What You Should Know.

Groundhog Club handler A.J. Dereume holds Punxsutawney Phil, the weather prognosticating groundhog, during the 137th celebration of Groundhog Day on Gobbler's Knob in Punxsutawney, Pa., Thursday, Feb. 2, 2023. Phil's handlers said that the groundhog has forecast six more weeks of winter. (AP Photo/Barry Reeger) (AP)

What Are The Origins Of Groundhog Day

The custom dates back to an early Christian tradition known as Candlemas, in which celebrants declared that clear skies on Candlemas meant a longer winter. Pennsylvania’s earliest settlers brought the tradition with them.

As for Phil, he rose to fame after appearing in Punxsutawney’s local newspaper in 1886. A member of a groundhog hunting group known as “The Punxsutawney Groundhog Club” used his clout at the paper to trumpet Phil, named after King Phillip, as the only official weather prognosticating groundhog.

Phil’s popularity grew from there, and the first of many annual Groundhog Day treks to Gobbler’s Knob followed in 1887.

Groundhog Day is led by the Groundhog Club’s Inner Circle, a group of 15 local dignitaries who also feed and take care of Phil year round, although the Inner Circle president is the only one responsible for translating Phil’s predictions.

Are Phil’s Predictions Foolproof?

Despite his induction into the Punxsutawney Weather Discover Center’s Meteorologist Hall of Fame last year, Phil is not always spot on in his predictions.

In fact, Phil’s Winter prognostications have been accurate just 39% of the time over 135 years, according to StormFax Weather Almanac.

Throughout the history of Groundhog Day, Phil has also been shown to be much more likely to predict six more weeks of winter.

He has seen his shadow 108 times while seeing no shadow 20 times.

There is no record of nine of his predictions during a span between 1889 and 1899, although it was reported that Phil did not see his shadow in 1890, predicting an early Spring.

President Tom Dunkel and Groundhog handler AJ Derume with Punxsutawney Phil, who saw his shadow, predicting a late spring during the 137th annual Groundhog Day festivities on February 2, 2023 in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Groundhog Day is a popular tradition in the United States and Canada. A crowd of upwards of 5,000 people spent a night of revelry awaiting the sunrise and the groundhog's exit from his winter den. If Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow he regards it as an omen of six more weeks of bad weather

What Does Phil Do The Rest Of The Year?

Although Groundhog Day brings the most visitors to Punxsutawney and the surrounding region, residents and Groundhog Day organizers said it's not the only time to visit the small town of about 6,000.

However, anyone who wants to meet the meteorological mammal outside of Groundhog Day will have to visit him at his home, a climate-controlled burrow at the Punxsutawney Memorial Library.

Phil also travels to events across the country in either his handlers’ vehicles or his tricked-out Philmobile.

Meanwhile, when Phil isn’t meeting with fans, he’s snacking on kale, bananas, carrots, apples and sweet potatoes.

Groundhog Club Inner Circle President Tom Dunkel and other Inner Circle members present Punxsutawney Phil to visitors on Groundhog Day 2023. Credit: Tom Dunkel (Tom Dunkel)

The Holiday Is A Boon For The Town And Region

With Groundhog Day comes an influx of visitors and cash to Punxsutawney and the surrounding rural region.

Hotels across the region book up months in advance of the day and the visitors bring a much needed boost to local businesses during the traditionally slow month of January.

“It has a great impact on our local businesses,” Katie Laska, Punxsutawney Area Chamber of Commerce president and owner of Laska’s Pizza. “It’s the shot in the arm that we need every year.”

Groundhog Club Inner Circle President Tom Dunkel and other Inner Circle members present Punxsutawney Phil to visitors on Groundhog Day 2023. Credit: Tom Dunkel (Tom Dunkel)

The effects also extend far past Punxsutawney into the entire region.

“Groundhog Day is a major asset not just for the town of Punxsutawney, but also for the PA Wilds region as a whole,” said Britt Madera, communications manager for the PA Wilds Center for Entrepreneurship, a nonprofit focused on conservation and economic development in the region. “When visitors come to see Phil make his annual prognostication, they're often inspired to continue exploring other parts of the region too.”

All Eyes on Punxsutawney

The nation's attention turns to western Pennsylvania this morning to watch the country's most famous groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, determine whether 2024 will bring an early spring or a longer winter. The prescient land-beaver will pick one of two scrolls, each containing separate wintery prophecies.

As is tradition, the slumberous whistle-pig will join his top-hatted crew to see whether he'll spot his shadow (foretelling six more weeks of winter) or relax a bit with his admiring fans (predicting an early spring). Phil is right about 40% of the time—or an impressive 60% if you flip the somewhat arbitrary rules.

The ceremony was originally conceived of by a local newspaper editor in 1886 but has its roots in Eastern European celebrations of the midway between the winter solstice and spring equinox—and also falls on the lesser-known Christian holiday, Candlemas.

Historical accounts suggest farmers used the appearance of hibernating mammals to signal spring. In reality, science suggests the salacious marmot likely appears to check for mates.

— Magazine 1440