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cupidkenji · 30 days ago

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Slowing Down

Now playing: slowing down - the backseat lovers whisper in my ear that you need me Pairing: Nam gyu (player 124) x AFAB!Reader CW: smut, drugging, noncon (putting this as noncon but the MC is into it. However, they are under the influence so they cannot consent.), toxic ex bf trope, he's kind of manipulative sorry, p in v, praise, mocking, possessiveness, creampie, this is literally deplorable i'm sorry, kinda ooc, university AU Summary: Four months after breaking up with your boyfriend, your roommate asks you to pick her up. Of course he had to be there. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but in this she's literally not described. WC: 3.7k part 2

this is disgusting and i'm sorry, please head the warnings. this is also not beta'd or proofread. i am tired and going to bed. sorry if this sucks. i wrote some pre-breakup HC if you want more <3

also check out this PHENOMENAL fanart if you want some visuals

The mildly run down apartment of a random university boy was an unfortunate place to find yourself when you had the option of being anywhere else. The brick walls were cracking and the water from the current rainfall made a sheen over the building that resembled porcelain. The glistening building was taunting and never ending as you stared up at the top floor, a single window open and seeping dim lighting out into the dark streets. Smoke was billowing out of it, bringing the scent of weed and the sound of laughter down into the depths of the road with you. You didn’t know how your roommate knew this guy, or why she came here if she didn’t have a ride planned, but you moved forward regardless. The front door was heavy, greasy and gray but lacking any security measures that were common for entry. There wasn’t even a front desk, just a desolate lobby that sat in front of an elevator.

She’d told you where to find her in the text she’d sent twenty minutes ago, begging you to come get her and successfully misspelling words that you’d thought impossible to type incorrectly. It wouldn’t have been difficult regardless, even without the guidance. It was midnight, most people who inhabited the building were either out at their own parties or asleep. The only room that harbored audible life was the one she was pointing you to, and you were less than eager to walk into a room with a group of who knows how many intoxicated strangers. You didn’t even know her that well, just that she was keen to partying, and was usually able to find her own way home. You figured she must be truly desperate to resort to you, you didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

The knocking you did felt like it bruised your knuckles. You hadn’t hit the door hard, but making any noise in the stillness of the hallway felt like a disservice. There was a penetrating calm in the building if you ignored the music leaking from your destination. It seemed wrong. When the door opened, smoke invaded your lungs quicker than you were anticipating, and you fought the urge to cough it up. The owner of the apartment had come to let you in. You recognized him vaguely from campus and knew of him only through stories you’d heard whispered between the girls he’d been with. You just wanted to go home.

A giggly drawl of your name sounded out from behind him, and he stepped back from the doorway to let you lay your eyes on your roommate. You had no idea what she’d consumed over the past few hours, but she seemed loopy and out of it. You walked through the doorway with your eyes stuck to her, thinking about how the fuck you were gonna get her home in this state. She was practically rag dolling on the small loveseat that sat in the living room. She appeared in her own world, and you really didn’t want to haul her back to the car in front of however many people were in here. You hadn’t looked up, going and leaning over her for a moment. She looked right through you, staring at the ceiling with a permanent uptick of her lips carved on her face. She was giddy, and seemingly glued to the furniture. Her pupils nearly encased her irises and you knew she wasn’t moving anytime soon. How she managed to request your assistance in this state was beyond you.

You heard the man who opened the door return to his seat behind you. It wasn’t loud, not like a party, you assumed there were maybe three people besides your roommate there. You were now in probably the most uncomfortable situation of your life - alone with three high strangers and a practically incapacitated roommate that was your responsibility.

“Do any of you know what she took?” It was the only thing you could think to ask, turning around to face the crowd as you said it. If you hadn’t gotten your words out before you spun, you would have choked on them. Of course, among the three people that could have been sitting there, was your ex. Locking eyes with him now was equivalent to letting someone rip the air from your lungs.

You’d met Nam Gyu at the beginning of your freshman year, him being a grade above you. He’d made you feel things you’d never envisioned for yourself. Writing them off trivially as immature and placing yourself above them. For two years you grew intertwined with him, and when he got deep into his problems, you did everything you could to help him. Eventually, it was too much, and you left. The residual devastation had stayed draped over you for the past four months you’ve been apart. You were growing convinced you’d feel gutted forever. He hadn’t taken kindly to the split, pestering and persisting every moment he could spare. He seemed convinced he’d get you back, never failing to remind you of the experiences the two of you had. Just his presence dragged you back to the depths of it, and your knees nearly buckled beneath you. You’d missed his eyes, missed being close enough to see all of him. You did a good job of avoiding him, so he resorted to calling, or texting. You never blocked him, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

You couldn’t read his face, you could only witness the flick of his eyes over you, feeling too exposed even in your covered state. “Probably something from the bag.” The man sitting to his right spoke, sporting purple hair and painted nails. You’d seen him on campus too. “She’ll be alright.” He didn’t seem fully sober either, something in the nonchalance and slight slur of his words keyed you in. At least he was comprehensible. You didn’t even look at him, caught in the pinpoint gaze that stayed locked on you.

You took a shallow breath, stomach stumbling slightly at the thickness of the oxygen combined with the abundance of smoke. That was what you told yourself, anyway. “I’m supposed to be taking her home.” Your eyes flicked to the left. A smaller man took up that end of the couch they were sharing, glossy eyes and shy demeanor. He was caved in on himself, he barely seemed to notice you.

The man of the hour chuckles slightly. “Good luck.” He motions to the girl with his head as he speaks. “She doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon.”

You took a glance behind you, your roommate fully asleep on the loveseat. You were fucked.

The purple haired man looked at you. “You can stay here for a minute if you want. She’ll sober up in a bit. Shit’s fast acting.” You were thankful he didn’t seem creepy. He also appeared in his own world, more concerned about his high than the random girls that were there for the ride. “She could always just crash here too, we’re all planning to.”

You looked at your roommate for a second time, considering the options. You could feel the familiar eyes casting a shadow on you. Regardless of the assumed kindness of the men, you still didn’t know them. You had no idea how well your roommate knew them either. You hated to think about leaving her here and something happening. Technically it would be on your hands, and you didn’t want her to get hurt. “Yeah, alright. I’ll wait her out.” You sunk down in front of your roommate, sitting on the floor wasn’t ideal, but you almost felt like you were protecting her, blocking any harm by keeping her behind you. You heard one of them mumble something about drinks in the kitchen, but you were planning to stay rooted to your spot. Since Nam gyu refused to say a word or steer his eyes away from you, you took out your phone to kill time while you waited.

When your attention was away from him, he spoke with his friends. You hated how deep his voice cut. It was so indescribably comforting to hear it again. You’d been declining his calls for this very reason, you knew the more of him you had, the harder it would be to stay away. After an hour, your phone was getting low, and your roommate was still passed out. The shy one had ducked away to a different room, presumably going to sleep, just leaving your energized ex and his friend who seemed to be getting drowsier as the minutes passed. You didn’t want to consume anything that might have been in that place, but inhaling nothing but smoke for the past hour had sucked the moisture from your throat. You reluctantly stood, drawing the eyes of only one of the men, and taking begrudging steps into the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, you grabbed a random carton of tea after your search for water failed. You grabbed a disposable cup from the container on the table, you were grateful - you hadn’t wanted to look for glasses. Leaving your now full cup, you turned to put the carton back in the fridge. He was standing far too close to you when you turned back, resembling a jump scare from some cheesy horror film. You took a shaky breath, grabbing your cup and walking back to your spot. You didn’t want to talk. He followed suit a minute later, a soda can grasped in his palm. He continued his conversation with the man beside him like nothing had happened, and you envied that ability. Your heart was beating like it was going to stop. You drank your tea faster than you even wanted to, just doing something to fight the urge of looking at him. You could have sworn your resolve would be stronger than this.

His eyes seemed to float to you more than they had been. You felt monitored, stalked, even. It was such a piercing sensation that a mild cold sweat started on your skin. There was something so personal about the way he looked at you. A devoted gaze of a predator, someone intense. It was something that drew you to him in the first place, something that wrestled within you. Fear and want in one. God, you wanted to go home. You spent maybe another twenty minutes on your phone, feeling the world get hazy around you. You hoped the invading mental fog was just a consequence of the late hour, of the smoke around you. You needed to move, so you stood up to throw your cup away. Your legs felt like steel rods, heavy and immovable. You don’t know how you dragged yourself back into the kitchen. Your skin felt like it was buzzing, too sensitive to the air around you.

You heard the couch creak behind you, the sound of confident footsteps as you stumbled and nearly fell. You were an imbalanced scale, tipping to one side when attempting to stand normally. Familiar hands caught you, and the feeling of him on you after so long pushed a small sob out of your dry throat. You didn’t have the strength to suppress it. “Careful.” He spoke low, so close to you that you could feel the vibration of his chest on your back. Your lips trembled as you looked around, things looked like static, marbling patterns blurring around you.

“What’s happening?” You hated how pathetic you sounded, teary and weakened. “Did you do something to me?” You sounded so small; quiet and choking out your words instead of saying them. His hands felt so heavy on your skin. You despised the inherent recognition that your body held for him. You weren’t stupid, he’d probably drugged you. How fucking deranged did it make you that you were still getting wet for him, even in this headspace. You squirmed a bit in his hold, but all that accomplished was making his hands rub against your skin, getting heavier as his hands tightened to keep you in his grasp. You looked back at the couch, his friend had fallen asleep, and your roommate was out like a light. You were so fucked.

“No, no. You’re ok.” He started walking towards the door of the apartment as you stumbled to clutch on to him. The world felt like a pool of molasses. “Let’s go back home, yeah?” He was still holding you, dragging you along with him and mumbling out the words like he was talking to a baby. “Not like you wanted to be here anyway.”

It was still raining when you got outside, the feeling of your clothes sopping up the water and molding to your skin was excruciating. The air felt prickly, like a cactus, and it made your poor roofied brain so confused that your body didn’t know how to react. It was bordering on painful as you sat in the passenger seat of your own car - him grabbing the keys on the way out and getting in the driver’s seat like he owned it. He didn’t even seem high. Your body ached, tingling like a shockwave, but your thighs were clenching in direct opposition to the sensation. Wires got crossed in your brain, and you were practically dripping into your underwear as your skin buzzed like you were on fire. You couldn’t sit still, shifting little by little and choking ever so slightly on some of your inhales. The drive was only ten minutes, but it felt like an hour.

You watched him open the door to your place. You swore you’d taken his key when you left him. Maybe it was yours, you couldn’t remember him taking it out of your pocket. Your apartment was cold, and you heard him sigh as he shut the door. He’d been here a thousand times over the years, something he was clearly remembering as he returned for the first time in four months. You heard the thoughts ring out in your head, bound back and forth with a million different things. Your hand was flat on the wall, looking at him lost like you were waiting for direction, or answers, or just something from him.

You couldn’t seem to properly catch your breath, chest heaving slightly as he moved towards you, his hands cradling your face to force eye contact. “I’ve missed this, you know?” He looked over the space he could see. It was brief, just enough to take it in without diverting his attention away from you for too long. “You haven’t changed anything.”

He pulled your hand off the wall, turning you around and forcing you to walk in tandem with him as he headed to your bedroom. He was right against your ear, speaking so low and knowing, your brain felt like a puddle in your head, only thinking about him and what he was going to do. “Most people go through breakups and they want to change everything, get something fresh.” Your stomach lurched as he opened the door, your own room causing a new feeling to stir in your gut. It wasn’t comfort, or fear. You couldn’t tell what it was. “What does it say that you left everything the same, huh?” He put his chin on your shoulder, holding you from behind in such a disgustingly intimate way. Your underwear was sticking to you at this point, you felt sick. “Did you really think you could stay away from me?” There was none of the usual malice in his tone, he sounded amused. As if he was scolding you for such a comical belief.

Your back hit the bed, as gentle as the first time he’d ever laid you on it. The lack of standing was a welcome relief, and you could have wept with the feelings that swept over you as you drank in the sight of him standing above you. You tried so desperately to remember why you’d left in the first place, fighting through the haze to not lose your will. “Wait- you-” You didn’t have a clue what you were even trying to express. “No- I can’t.”

He was heavy on top of you, hands drawing lines of fire as they dragged your shirt off. That exposed feeling you’d been sitting on all night cranked up severely as he stared at you, tracing his hands over you as he remapped old trails he’d been so familiar with. Nobody had touched you in four months. You’d been reeling so hard from the loss that you’d barely touched yourself. With your already limited capacity to process what was happening, combined with your recent celibacy, you felt like you were going to die, and it just made you all the more wanting.

“No?” He mocked, slipping the pants you were wearing down your legs. “Why’s that?”

You were breathing heavy, lungs filling with the air that seemed too thick, bearing the weight of the tension. “We’re not-” You stumbled over your words as he kissed down your chest. “We’re not together anymore.” He nipped at you, leaving a stinging feeling that forced quiet groans from your mouth. “And you fucking drugged me-”

“And you’re fucking soaked.” He ran his thumb over the prominent wet patch on your underwear, pushing it aside to make bare contact with you. “You’ve always been easy, honey, but this is something else.” He takes his time sliding against you, making you preen at the contact. You were so caught between right and wrong. He’d touched you a thousand times, dragged the same sounds out of you he was doing now; but he didn’t have the right to do that anymore, he shouldn’t be doing it, not like this. The argument formed and died in your mushy brain, the feeling of the craving you’ve had for months finally being satisfied pushed all reasoning out of sight. It felt so good, and he was barely doing anything. A couple slow lines up and down, and you could practically hear it. He was right, and you were in borderline tears from how much you needed this.

You watched his clothes come off, wishing you could have helped, but rejoicing in the view of his bare skin. It was fucking pathetic how much you reveled in the sight. You felt like a lapdog, some pavlovian response firing up in your brain as you stared at him. Had you truly thought you could stay away? You could have changed the locks, or cut your hair, maybe reinvented your wardrobe. You had been devastated, yes, but maybe the reason you were never heartbroken was because you knew the split wouldn’t last. A dedicated devotee rarely deserts the altar, why would you be different? Why would you want to be different when he felt so fucking good against you?

You choked on a tiny gasp as he started pushing into you, your hands reaching to grasp his shoulders as easy as any instinct is. You hear the small noise that pours out of his parted lips, tightening around him as he bottoms out. You go practically brain dead at the feeling, mourning that specific fullness more than you ever thought you could grieve anything. He seems to sense it. “Don’t you miss me inside you, honey?” Even if you can barely process anything other than the feeling of him, you still pick up on that sleazy tone he can never seem to shake. Mocking and arrogant, always talking down to you somehow. “It was stupid to leave.” He starts moving his hips, calculated and slow - loving in a way that’s out of character for him. “You know you’re fucking made for me.” His words were breathed out in a sigh, audible content in his voice, as if he could stay like this forever. You realized with slight horror that you wanted him to. You wanted to be here forever.

You were being driven so thoughtfully to the edge that you could barely keep up. The hand that wasn’t holding himself up was rubbing timed circles on your clit, his face finding home in your neck. If he wasn’t leaving marks, he was saying something that was only making you tighten around him more. “I didn’t want to have to do this, you know that.” You nodded, eyes watering from the intensity. “I tried so hard.” You just nodded again as he sucked a bruise into the underside of your jaw. You were scared to look at the damage when this wore off. “If you had just talked to me, we could have worked it out.” You couldn’t pick apart his words right now. Not when you were so close and he said them in that tone that just killed any critical thinking you had in you.

“I’m sorry.” You could barely hear the words as you said them, whispered hoarsely as you tensed up. Your lips were trembling, a tear running down the side of your face and dripping onto the sheets.

His hips stuttered at the sight, cursing under his breath. “I know, It’s ok.” He put his mouth on your jaw, mumbling his forgiveness so you could feel the vibrations, etch them into your skin. “Don’t hold it, honey, you can cum.” The permission made you lightheaded, air rushing from your lungs. “Just let me back in, yeah? I’ll forget it even happened.”

You were so close that it was painful, his motions speeding up. You whimpered, small and meek. Your hands were shaking, hiccupping as a couple more tears streaked down your face. The thought of having him back was so enticing, even through the mild sedation that was still coursing through you, you felt like you were whole again like this. You came hard, so hard that you thought you might black out for a moment as it fully hit you. He followed right after, cumming inside you for the first time in your entire relationship, as if to physically demonstrate his intentions, to emphasize that you were made for him. You belonged together, something that he whispered with various other praises as his hips slowed to a stop. You sat with the weight of what just happened, what was most likely going to happen when you were sober. You couldn’t imagine being away from him anymore. It was hard enough holding out for four months, but after this? It seemed impossible. You realized that it hardly mattered, even if you wanted to leave, after tonight,

you doubt he’d let you.

#squid game fanfic #nam gyu x reader #nam gyu smut #squid game smut #squid game season 2 smut #squid game fanfiction #squid game x reader #ex boyfriend #ex boyfriend smut #ex boyfriend fanfiction #x chubby reader #x fat reader #cupid:NG #namgyu x reader #namgyu smut

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witch-hazels-musings · 4 months ago

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hi pls for my crying dragon man monsieur neuvillette

sandalwood ginseng dalmation stone

hugs and kisses

Sandalwood (ceremony), Dalmatian Stone (loyalty, family), Ginsing (communication, guidance) Neuvillette x gn reader | Divination Ritual warning: reader is grabbed by the arm forcefully (very brief), heights (like really high up), kiss on the hand -- this is my first time writing for Neuvillette. I asked people for help on this and *hopefully* he came out alright!

He pulled you from the group with far more force than you expected. "Where is he?" His contorted face held little patience. His tight-lipped smile and frantic eyes conveyed who this event was significant for.

"I'm sure he'll be here any mome-"

"He better. His absence is unbecoming as the Iudex," he said, his grip intense as he stared you down. "I will not be made a fool."

With metered composure, you tapped the man's hand but he didn't release you. "It's very likely he's been delayed by something. If you'll excuse me, I can uncover what has kept him."

The man took a breath, scanned the crowd once more before letting you go. "Be swift about it."

"Of course," you said and bowed your head. He fussed with his overly decorated clothes, finely pressed and perfectly tailored - though it did little to hide the signs of gluttony around his midsection. He sneered at you before walking away to put on a show for the patrons he no doubt invited to this 'celebration.'

---

You made your way through the halls of the Palais Mermonia, stopping at every place the Iudex liked to wander - hide. When he wasn't sitting as judge, or tucked away in his office, there were a few spaces you could always find him, and if not there, then always -

"There you are," you said as you stepped onto the balcony. Though calling it that was generous. It was more of a ledge, one service member would use to clean the massive windows and - now - where Neuvillette would find solace. You didn't blame him. Being up here away from the noise was far more enjoyable than the stuffy halls and formalities.

Neuvillette was slow in registering your presence. His elegant fingers coiled around his chin, his gaze distant as he looked out across lapping waters that surrounded the Courts of Fontaine. When you approached, his apathetic expression shifted with slight surprise.

"Ah, apologies. I did not sense your approach," he said, voice even, calm like steady water. He gazed upward and glanced behind you at the warm light from beyond the turquoise windows. "I've let myself wander too long haven't I?"

You shook your head. "It's alright. As you know the party will rage on with or without you."

"Undoubtedly," he said and looked back to the landscape. You felt bad for him. A cruel existence to be tied to the fate of others - to witness them at their lowest and most vulnerable and render their judgment. It exhausted you just thinking about it but he rarely complained. You wished he would.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you joined him near the edge and looked out over Fontaine. Though heights were not necessarily your favorite thing you had to admit that in the twinkle of twilight, the view from this high seemed to make the world glitter.

"It's beautiful up here," you said and caught a faint smile on his lips.

"I am quite fond of the tranquility and stillness. It allows for a great deal of reflection."

He was right. Being completely alone and away from prying eyes was nice. Almost like a dip in cool water after a day under the sun. You closed your eyes and breathed in the moisture on the wind, the electricity of the evening, and let them mingle on your skin.

Behind you, a swell of voices rose up through the open window and you remembered what awaited you below.

"I should get back. I'll let them down easy so don't worry about joining us."

"That would be improper. I will return with you."

"Stay," you said, stopping him with a gentle hand on his arm. "I can handle them."

"I should not forsake the duties that are asked of me. Though my interests are far more idle than they may approve of, this aspect of my role cannot be forsaken based on personal preferences."

"Neuvillette, this 'celebration' is nothing more than a way to work your favor."

"How foolish. Festivities such as these would never sway my opinion in court," he explained matter-of-factly, his brows furrowing at the thought.

You chuckled. "I know, but it's just - it's how some people operate. They likely know it won't help them when it comes to the law, but there are many reasons to seem friendly to the Ludex. Connections are equally as valuable as coin in this world."

"I see." He thought for a moment. "Then what of you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are your intentions holding ulterior motives?" he asked, his eyes flickering to the hand resting comfortably against his arm. You panicked and pulled it back.

"Oh, no. No! I'm so sorry, I didn't -" You flared out your palms and let out an uncomfortable noise before clearing your throat. "I'm here for you because I like - wah! No. I mean, yes, I like you but like in a way of being supportive and - like, like assisting you with your work. I'm on your side is what I mean to say. Ugh, please stop looking at me." Embarrassed, you covered your face and pressed your fingers against your brow in a desperate attempt to bring your mind under control.

Neuvillette laughed, soft, almost impossible to hear but it was enough to set your ears on fire. "'You like me?'"

"Professionally, I like you, professionally."

"I have spent countless years evaluating the words of humans. Their core truths and hidden lies and, were this be our first encounter, I may not be so confident in my evaluations."

"Forget I said anything, please."

"How can I," he said and you tensed at the sudden contact of his lithe fingers as they pulled your hand away. "When such blatant falsehoods are being uttered in my presence?"

You swallowed, stared into his intense eyes, and willed yourself not to tear free from his grip and jump off the building. This was the worst. An accidental confession to the man who was 1. your boss, and 2. as unavailable as they came. It took you months to get close to him, for him to be comfortable with you and now - now what have you done?

"It slipped out. I'm sorry," you mumbled.

He smiled, kind, patient, understanding. "There is no need. Yet I am proposed now with a conundrum. It seems a balancing of the scales is in order." Neuvillette lifted your hand to his face and sweetly pressed his lips to your middle and index fingers. "I am quite fond of you, as well," he whispered above them but his words were stolen by the wind.

When he lowered your hand toward your chest, he didn't immediately let go. Instead, he let it rest in his grip while you stared, stunned, at his chest.

"Shall we find our way to the celebration?"

You nodded but your lack of movement told another story. "Yeah, yes. We should do that."

Neuvillette's amused laugh fluttered to your ears and rattled your heart, and your legs. "When you are ready."

"Mmhm."

Thaumaturgy Anthology (October 11-13, 2024)

This event is based on spells and rituals. Inspiration does not equal understanding; liberties have been taken. All content is owned by Witch Hazels Musings, theft of these images and stories will result in immediate action.

#hazels events #hazel event thaumaturgy #thaumaturgy event #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x gn reader #neuvillette genshin

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alientimes · 4 months ago

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🀥 ᴀʟʟ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ… ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ?

➩ Who dyed this guy's hair? (2)

The clock was ticking. In less than thirty minutes, your new roommate would be knocking on that door and there was nothing you could do about it. As much as you would’ve liked to avoid the encounter, it would make a horrible impression if you did. And you feared that maybe a little bit more than you feared talking to people. And you adored impressions so much to the point you forced yourself to organize your room, even though it would be ridiculous for him to take a peek inside. You’d put together your best fit, but for the love of god, you hoped he’d take his shoes off inside the house. You’d look weird if he didn’t, and the amount of dirt you’d have to sweep up would be criminal. Now, you didn’t want to bring it up, of course, but if he did maybe some unspoken judgment and guidance could help him in the right direction. Only if he didn’t.

You glanced up at the clock, and within your time spent rethinking your life choices, fifteen minutes had passed and now you were down to pacing back and forth, full of anxiety. It made the wait so much worse, but you couldn’t help but glance back to the clock time and time again, and the wait was both nerve-wracking and relieving. You would’ve calmed down if you could’ve, but social standards were so high nowadays you just wanted to impress. Any moment now would the clock hit 2:30 and you would hear the jingling of keys and the door would swing open. You forced yourself to sit down, but even then you had to move, foot rapping against the floor. God it would be so embarrassing if he heard it from outside, if he could. Of course, you still had ten minutes, but in your opinion that was ten minutes too many. Would it hurt for him to be a little late? Five minutes? Ten? An hour? It wasn’t something you’d usually ask for, but now you were praying this guy had a bad sense of time management.

Almost as if on cue, you hear the all-too-telling squeak of the door (you really needed to oil the hinges) and the creak of the floor as he stepped in. You sprung up, almost tripping over yourself as feelings of intense resentment for him rose in your mind. Of course he had to be early. It appears whatever’s listening chose to take a blind eye (or ear) to your prayers, and maybe did the opposite of them instead just for a kick.

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However, despite what you might’ve thought, Sukuna only came early because he was bored out of his mind with nothing else to do, and thought he might as well get set up a little early. It definitely wasn’t planned with even a little spite involved. Absolutely not. He was over that, of course. In fact, he’d never felt spite before! That was ridiculous.

Well, either way, now Sukuna was standing at your (his) doorstep ten minutes earlier than planned. Luckily, he had his keys, and was quick to step inside. It didn’t take long for someone to come bounding (read: trudging) up to him, greeting him with a forced smile. “Hi,” they said. Really, if they were going to force a smile, they should at least try to make their tone a little more convincing. “I’m Y/N. Your new roommate.” Sukuna did a quick glance over you, and couldn’t help but feel you were almost… plain. At least, compared to the people that brat knew. And he didn’t even have to glance to tell he could take you down without a second thought if he needed to. Always good information to know, of course. After a few seconds, Sukuna noticed you were just awkwardly standing around, and so graciously decided he could introduce himself back. “I’m Su-Sebastion, yes. Do you have a room prepared for me, or am I going to have to do it myself?” Whoops, he almost messed up there. He didn’t know what you’d think if he introduced himself by the wrong name. Kick him out? He didn’t have enough money left to afford that. While you calling the police would’ve normally been the easy way out, now that he (painfully has to admit) isn’t anywhere near as strong as he used to be, he certainly wouldn’t be able to take them all out in a fight. You, sure. Maybe even a couple more ridiculous humans. Unfortunately, guns had to be invented, and he can’t regenerate from injuries with reversed curse technique anymore. He checked.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Well, the ‘Su-Sebastian’ part was a bit odd, but you never know what other names people might have. Perhaps he was of another nationality, but had an English name that he went by here in America. You try not to judge. Other than that, he seemed kind of… quiet, which you appreciated. Maybe nonchalant was a better word, or even high, but whatever. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to change that at 2 AM. You’ve had some bad experiences. Still, the thing you most judged him for (it’s really hard not to judge it), was his hair. He kind of gave rich kid vibes (the ‘do you have a room prepared for me’ part was still getting to you), and yet couldn’t afford a good hair job? His bangs were uneven, he had random wisps of hair everywhere, and you could see those untouched roots. You wondered how long it had been since he last dyed his hair.

After a couple of seconds, you similarly realized you unfortunately had to respond. Awkwardly, you told him “Your room’s down the hall. The door’s propped open.” You pointed in its direction, praying you actually remembered to close your door earlier. Well, either way, he would see the amount of stuff you had strewn all over your room, and hopefully avoid it. Maybe your messiness was a good thing (you doubted it)!

After you glanced back at him, desperately hoping he was moving towards the direction of his room so you could escape this suffocating situation (your hopes were shattered when you saw he wasn’t), you noticed he had like, one suitcase. Other than that, no luggage. Like, literally none. He didn’t even have a backpack. You didn’t even bring that little on a two day trip. Burning with curiosity, you asked “Is the rest of your stuff coming tomorrow?” before you could stop yourself. Great, now if he actually didn’t have any stuff you just made him feel horrible. What if he just got disowned by his maybe incredibly rich parents? Think, Y/N, think! However, before you could spiral more, he thankfully just tilted his head and kind of glared down at you. Actually, maybe that isn’t something you should be grateful for.

“...Yeah,” He responded. You silently let out a sigh of relief, trying not to show too much of it. You looked back up at him, and he didn’t seem confused, insulted, or anything. He just seemed like he was searching for the most sensible thing to say (you had a lot of experience in that). Actually, something about him seemed a little off, now that you thought about it. You had just met, but some of his mannerisms seemed weird, like he wasn’t sure how to act. That wasn’t something completely unusual, of course, but it wasn’t in an ‘I’m-not-from-around-here’ way. It was in an ‘I’m-an-old-geezer’ kind of way, but not just an old geezer. An old geezer. Wait, maybe that was mean. You should probably stop thinking that.

Of course, stopping yourself from thinking that effectively shut down any thought that something just wasn’t quite right about this (tall) man named Sebastian as well.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Was that slang? Sukuna thought that was slang. Really, he did not spend enough time listening to the brat’s conversations to pick up on modern-day slang, and this was even worse (he had spoken about two words to you and almost no slang was used). Now you even had him thinking about luggage. To keep up appearances, he should probably buy some things. Furniture. Decorations. Maybe some of those Jennifer Lawrence posters the brat had up, because surely that was a sensible thing for someone to have in their room.

Sukuna took a look over to where you had pointed. Sure enough, there was one… two open doors. Handy. Despite this horrible lack of clarification from you (you wouldn’t have survived a day in the Heian era), he rolled his suitcase (handy invention, he had to give you humans that) down the hall. The first door was full of stuff, and from your lack of confirmation about setting up his room, he was forced to assume it was yours. Continuing down the hall, he had the sudden thought that it would be quite inconvenient if he didn’t have a mattress.

He didn’t have a mattress. A strong sense of rage boiled up in him, and he cursed the idiotic designer that made this apartment. Who put in a bed frame with no mattress? Only idiots, of course. That much was clear. “Um…” Sukuna almost jumped at your voice, and cursed himself at that. How could he be scared by some puny human? How dull had his senses gotten? Why did you follow him? Angrily, he turned around, fast enough to see you shrink away slightly at the sight of his face (did you find him ugly? Were you that horrified by him? Why did he care so much about someone’s reaction to his face? He already knew he was worth and looked nothing.). “What do you want?” He demanded, crossing his arms. In turn, you hooked your fingers together, lowering your arms and head. “Uh, Sebastian, right?” (Did you always have to stutter with ums and uhs?) “Do you… not have a mattress?” As if he didn’t feel pathetic enough. What a sorry turn of events. Still, he had to sigh and agree. “Unfortunately, it appears I do not.” You glanced around the room, at what he did not know, before laying your eyes back to him. Or rather, to the floor in front of him. “Would you like… to sleep on the couch? Or, my bed if it’s more comfortable? I can sleep on the couch.” Why did you offer your own bed? Was it intimate? Or were you just stupid? You obviously weren’t truly entertaining the idea of lending your bed to him, but now that you had suggested it, Sukuna wasn’t about to turn you down.

“I must thank you, and I will take up on your offer. I’ll sleep on your bed until I… my mattress arrives.” Don’t try to hide it, he could see that grimace on your face. Human, at least be honest about it. And he could hear that sigh. You should be grateful he pretended not to notice. He supposes he himself should be grateful you don’t protest. After all, it is basically still your home with how little he is moved in. That will switch soon, of course, but he can be courteous.

✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦

In a couple hours, Sukuna was settled in, and was chowing down on some of your edible ‘snacks’ (he never ate such things in the Heian era, but that brat certainly did.). You were rushing all around him, muttering something about “Work” and “Stupid night shift” and “No way she invited me to a party knowing I have to work”. Quite disturbing, if you asked him. He watched you apathetically, though found your scurrying about somewhat amusing. It reminded him of a mouse, or a rabbit. Rabbits, he liked the taste of. Mice, not so much, but you could live off them. Some might consider them a delicacy, but they obviously had never tried cannibalism.

You tugged on your shoes, and he once again found it amusing how you grew practically five centimeters in height. Humans these days. You grabbed your keys (he found himself hoping they were yours, not his. It would be annoying if they weren’t, of course), and unlocked the door, even going so far as to open it before you stopped and scrambled back to him. You held out an odd rectangle, screen flashing brightly. “Here, give me your number so I can contact you if I can’t get back or if I get stuck outside,” you say. Sukuna blinked, pulling back slightly. His number? Were you humans all assigned numbers at birth? Was that how society was done nowadays? “...What?” At his confusion, you seemed confused, which confused him further, and so on and so forth. “Your phone,” you suggested slowly (and infuriatingly). “Give me your phone so I can put my number in, then.” Sukuna could only stare at you, mouth hanging open slightly. Handily, any memory of Itadori using a phone (the few times he actually did) immediately flew from his mind, leaving him with nothing.

What on earth was a phone?

oh my god i did it

im sorry it took so long but 2k words yay!!! im so inconsistent with my work effort i wrote like 400 words on saturday and crammed the rest in today because i wanted to get it done

not entirely happy with the result (?) cuz it's kinda rushed but i hope yall enjoyed!

i hate dialogue so much please i can't

part 1 of Who dyed this guy's hair?

all curses go to earth masterlist

#🀥 all curses go to... earth?#all curses go to earth (2)#who dyed this guy's hair (2)#jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #reverse isekai

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queerprayers · 8 months ago

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1/2- Sorry if this is a weird ask. You're a person of sincere faith who doesn't judge and I'm desperate for outside opinions. I've recently learned that many modern tarot readers don't believe in divination or spirits, but rather that the images on the cards can help us think about things and bring out deeper ideas from our own subconscious. Zero future telling, only for self reflection. That sounds ok to me, and using the cards for visio divina has done really good things for my prayer life.

2/2- But still I worry- what if the more conservative types are right and all use of the cards is bad? What if it's displeasing to God? I beg and pray but I can't seem to find any peace or inner sense of guidance on the topic. Can you please pray for me, and share any wisdom you might have about this? Thank you so much.

Hello, beloved--I don't think this is weird at all! There's so much fearmongering among Christians about things being Satanic or pagan or whatever else, and it's important to not give into that panic while also taking our faith seriously.

None of the people I know who have been interested in tarot do it as a religious or really even spiritual practice--for most of them, it's been a fun thing, like getting your fortune read at a county fair, and it's not something to "believe in" so much as do and think about. I also know people who, as you said, find it useful for reflection, usually for finding new ways of looking at things. I'm not scared of tarot, and I don't think it's demonic.

Christian history is full of things like opening your Bible to a random page to see what God has in store for you or protecting yourself from evil spirits or saying a certain prayer so that a saint will do something for you. Everyone has these superstitious instincts, to find stories in chance, to not waste the few things that are in our control. I don't think there's inherent evil there--evil comes when we trust these things more than God, when we look in our own actions more than God's, when we think we can know the full story, when we try to pin God down. And I don't think superstition with Christian wrappings is any less superstitious, or any more truthful, to be honest.

A lot of people fearmongering about stuff like this are scared about where it might lead--that you'll end up somewhere chanting around a human sacrifice. And of course there are people who start with harmless religious experiences and end up in evil places--lots of Christians go to a potluck and end up believing in prosperity gospel and putting their kids in conversion therapy. But I don't hear you in danger of abandoning God or of harming anyone. And any religious practice can go too far, no matter how pure its roots. What you bring to the practice makes up most of whether you are reaching out toward God with it, and we can balance it with other traditions and other impulses.

In case someone's using the Bible to scare you: what the Bible tells us about fortune-telling/magic/communing with spirits is from a very specific Ancient Israelite perspective that I'm not qualified to unpack, but we don't find it an applicable worldview today. We have different ideas of how to live in community with other religions, and religious practices serve very different functions. We don't follow Ancient Israelite cultic practices--nor do modern Jewish people, for that matter. Christian practice has developed in the past two millennia in so many directions, and barely any of it would be recognizable to the Biblical authors. I obviously trust that God gave us these writings for a reason, and am not saying to ignore them--we can find useful ideas, but not a rule book.

The tarot deck most people know was created in 1909 by an occult secret society, who used symbols from Christianity and astrology. I think it's misguided to find truth in them as they exist, but neither do I think they're inherently evil--they're archetypes, stories. They're just human. I find occult secret societies generally more silly than demonic--although there is lots of racism/cultural appropriation in their histories. I respect those who avoid tarot based on its origins, just as I respect those who won't do yoga because it's a Hindu practice. But so many things come from non-Christian origins, and we cannot throw away the world if we want to live in community with it. (Yes, we are called to be set apart from the world as Christians, but also to love it--there is the line we must walk.)

There is real Biblical precedent for avoiding a practice associated with things outside of your faith--ancient Israelite religion was very concerned with these associations. Paul did not think meat that had originally been offered to pagan gods was sinful to eat, but basically advised people not to eat it because of how it would affect others or perhaps normalize idol worship. These are things we're continually navigating, and in any Christian community you're gonna have to be clear where your faith lies and probably answer some questions. I think it's a good thing that we're called to be purposeful, and to be aware how our actions affect others.

So my general advice would be to really think about it, to do it all purposefully, paying attention to how it affects your life, relationships, and practice, and whether it's bringing you to the life you know God wants from you (one of love). But this sounds like what you're already doing! I think you care more about this than most people I know, and you're coming to God genuinely--these are gifts.

Prayer is sensory, story-filled, interactive. It's a way of moving through the world. You say this has done good things for your prayer life, and I believe you. Contemplation is a major Christian prayer tradition. Anything can give us a new perspective, anything can shove us toward the truth. You're not causing harm, and neither are you abandoning your faith. There are other people navigating the same things as you--Contemplative Tarot is a book by a Catholic tarot practitioner, and it looks really interesting. I know people who have made their own tarot cards, and I wonder what that would look like with more intentional Christian symbolism/stories, even saints. Sometimes I pick a random prayer card to say--this is coincidence, and while it's not something I'm depending on, it does affect how my day goes.

Don't fall for anything or anyone that claims to know the ultimate truth, don't fall for the people who say that tarot has ancient Egyptian/kabbalah roots, don't fall for people who are just selling you things, don't believe anyone who tells you the truth is inside you if they aren't making clear that it's God that's living there, don't base your entire religious practice on something like this. But don't throw away a way of looking at things if God has led you through it. Don't put your life in the hands of cards, but move through your life with stories and new perspectives and contemplation. God's mercies are new every morning.

I don't know if I've given you peace--maybe just more questions. The good news is, you don't have to figure it all out now, and the bad news is you'll never figure it all out. Religious practice is a continuous dialogue and negotiation with the world. I have faith in you, and in the ways God is moving in your life. Bring Jesus with you, wherever you end up--he'll come regardless, of course, but see it happening. A man with a sword or a cup doesn't know your future, nor is he doing anything--but you know that. You're seeing more of the story, you're contemplating the wonders of God, you know the swords and cups that matter, and they are present with you, and seeing them everywhere is a gift.

Something my mother says before I start anything new, or go anywhere important--what she said when I went to the psych ward, and on the first days of school, and when I go to a protest--is "remember your baptism." I think my grandfather said it to her, too. I don't know whether you've been formally baptized, but remember your calling. Remember the beginning of your journey, and why you're still on it, and how you're being a representative of it. Remember your baptism, whatever that means to you. We have been marked with the cross of Christ forever.

<3 Johanna

#asks

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aheathen-conceivably · 11 days ago

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Hi, sorry to bother you, I would like to ask, how do you make a page with all the posts? Like you do in the one that says "from the beginning". I'm new to this and I've been looking, but I can't find anything. Maybe you can give me some guidance! If it's not too much trouble, thank you very much!

Hey there, Nonny! It’s absolutely no bother at all, but I appreciate you being so considerate ♥️

So I’m sure there are people who could be much more helpful on doing this in an aesthetic or organized way, but we know that I’m a bit tech unsavvy. Therefore I try and do it all it the easy way. I taught myself mostly by looking at other blogs and figuring out their links, but I’ll try and explain it here to the best of my ability.

At its most basic, you’ll need to know how to add links to posts. If you’re a visual learner like me, I thought this tutorial may help:

But in essence, you highlight the word (or words) that you want to have the link (such as “From the Beginning”) and you find the icon that looks like two chain links. Then you paste the URL you want to link and voila.

Of course, you’ll also need to have the URL you want. This is why looking at other people’s blogs helped me, so I encourage you to do that, just because I think that’s a bit easier to understand than my written instructions.

But my links are organized around tags. So when you go on a blog, you can navigate it by tag. This groups all posts that have the same tag on the same page, and in the URL bar at the top Tumblr will show that tag. So for instance this is a link to my tag for the 1920s, and once I learn what that URL is, I can replace “1920s” with “1930s” or even words like “WCIF”. In that way it’s like a formula, where the “tag” part of the URL can be replaced with whatever you want. Similarly, you can add “chrono” to the end of the URL to view that tag in chronological order. This is how I am able to link “from the beginning” and “most recent” differently, as they direct to the same tag but in a different order.

The only thing that makes this a bit more complicated is that some URLs on Tumblr automatically open on a browser, while some are “mobile friendly.” This means that it allows users to open that link on the app rather than redirecting to a new page. I would again encourage you to look at the URLs on my linked page to see the difference between these, because it is subtle, but it is about the ordering of words. Of course, when doing your own links, you would be using your own blog title and tags, but it’s helpful as far as learning the “formula”!

I’m sorry if any of this is confusing! Due to aforementioned ~tech unsaviness~ I find explaining these things a bit tricky. But I still hope it’s somewhat helpful! And if anyone has anything to add or clarify please feel free to do so.

#also sorry this took me a minute Nonny #I’ve been hiding from the world a little #but I think I should have content for yall next week 🥲#ask #answered #resources

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afvall · 4 months ago

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whumptober day 7! magic with a cost

Nate's powers do an oopsie, leading to his T.O. getting his flesh as a treat about it! Then him and Wade do gay stuff or something i dont know don't ask me

setting vague because whenever i read a comic all the info i absorb just drops out my ass

It pours, man, it pours

A thin, metal vein reached across Nathan’s chest from his left shoulder, skin surrounding it blushing a soft red, like flowers in the spring. His reflection in his bedroom’s full body mirror traced its fingers around the intrusion, a sharp pain crashing across his nerves then dulling as he continued the contact along its length. He’d been reckless today, disobeying the tactical and philosophical lessons he’d been taught for his whole life, ever since he was a young child, throwing caution to the wind when Wade had been put in a compromising situation in battle, he didn’t even think about using his psionic powers before they’d neutralised the enemy and gotten Wade to safety. And it was strange, they’d functioned without his command, without any effort even, and mulling it over afterwards, he’d realised it was honestly a bit scary. Without any guidance from him, like his T.O., like how it consumed him devoid of any conscious thought or motivation other than simply to devour. And now, caressing the metal tendril trails across his chest, he’d seen that that unintentional usage of his telekinesis for reasons other than strictly controlling the disease consuming him had let it inch further into his body, and it wouldn’t retreat this time.

This couldn’t happen again. Like an animal, he’d acted without upper thought to ‘save’ Wade, of course, helping out Wade was a good thing, but not when he was without a plan and directionless. Nathan was a master of his mind and body, he’d been in his head his whole life, he knew the ins and outs of himself, he couldn’t understand why his powers, not him, reacted like that to Wade in danger. Of course, he and Wade were close, closer than friends, but to act with reckless abandon to save him in a situation which Wade was most likely competent enough to save himself from? Nate wanted to lock himself in a room to meditate and train for a month straight, and realistically, that wasn’t too out of the question for him. A knock wrapped on the door, Nathan hesitating before he opened it telekinetically. Wade was behind it, waltzing up towards Nate, who also then had to shut the door behind Wade, as the merc either forgot to or didn’t care.

“Can you not ask whatever you need to ask from the door?” Nate asked, hands now at his sides.

“If you didn’t want me in your room so bad, why did you let me in and then shut the door behind me?” Nate didn’t know, much like how he didn’t know why his powers had slipped from his control earlier. “Admiring your awesome tits, priscilla?” Nate feared if Wade gave him a headache with his useless prattling, in that oddly satisfying Demi Moore voice, it would happen again. He sighed and rubbed his temples, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Where have all your snarky quips gone, Nate?? Usually it takes me a bit more effort to get you to exasperated sighs! Hey, is that metacle, metal tentacle for those not in the know, new, or am I right to not trust my memories?” Wade spoke like how most people thought, in long, semi-senseless sentences, changing topics as he so wished.

“It got a hold on me while I was helping you out on the mission earlier, using my telekinesis…” Nathan wondered how to continue before Wade spoke anyhow.

“Why are you being so vague about it? I can’t believe it’d be because the author has barely read your comics and doesn't know how to be more specific without more research than they’re willing to do right now, I'd never forgive them! And, weren’t you only saving my ass for a second? How’s it already made purchase on you? How come you couldn’t y’know… multitask controlling the T.O. and using your TK like you usually do? Ooo, I love these exposition lead-up questions! Reminds me of all the lovely numbered questions in Cable & Deadpool, sent in by our adoring fans, Nate!” Wade prattled on with no end.

“The T.O. is vicious Wade, it would consume me rapidly without my powers to stave it off. I believe, as I've aged, and it has grown alongside me and gotten used to me and my powers, it’d kill me in minutes. I didn’t think about using my telekinesis, either, it simply took action on its own accord, and didn’t have my guidance keeping it on top of the virus as well.” Nate answered the numbered questions in a numbered fashion.

“Nathan Dayspring Askani’Son Christopher Cable Soldier X Summers not thinking? Does this mean we’ve gotta tag the ao3 upload as ‘OOC’?” Nate knew he’d regret asking what OOC meant, because inquiring into the majority of Wade’s made up words just lead into more confusion usually. He’d save it for another time.

“It was so strange, I didn’t even realise I’d done it for a second, I’ve always considered myself like, well… a well oiled machine, I’ve never felt a disconnect from my actions and mind, and i hate the feeling of it right now.” Nathan explained, looking at himself in the mirror instead of at Wade,

“I fear that’s where we differ, but also, maybe even where I can help! Maybe all my neurotic behaviours and issues have been leeching off on you Nate, now we’re spending so much time together, but I have experience with feeling that… disconnect… unfortunately, I can't offer solutions, but I can offer coping methods! Not even the ones including pain and death. How about… Ben and Jerrys with some Netflix right now? That might soothe your T.O. aches.” Nathan skimmed Wade’s thoughts and understood a sense of worry, and an undeniable desire to help. He thought now that the fretted comment about his usual quips being absent from the conversation was genuine, and a weird feeling twisted in his chest and pooled in his stomach. Wade was worried about him, and wanted to help him, and it made Nate feel just as weird as the slip of his powers made him feel earlier today, yet in a far nicer way.

“That sounds… nice, thank you, Wade.”

#whumptober 2024 #no.7 #magic with a cost #x men #fic #cablepool #cable #deadpool #nathan summers #wade wilson

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blackjackkent · 4 months ago

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Continuing Rakha adventures! We left off on Thursday after meeting Nine-Fingers Keene, who informed Jaheira that things are more than a little complicated regarding finding her old friend Minsc, by which I mean that she is having him killed for "being the Stone Lord" crimes.

Jaheira is not pleased about this and consequently neither is Rakha, and honestly Rakha would have gladly picked a fight right there in Nine-Fingers' office if Jaheira hadn't stopped her. But the plan is, most definitely, to go find Minsc before Keene's people can get to him.

The quest merely says, "We should search the Guildhall for clues." I know of one clue off the top of my head - a letter to be found in Astele's office - but I'm curious if there are other ways to find out where to go next, so we're gonna ask around a little bit more first.

I first tried out talking to Nine-Fingers without Jaheira in the room, just to see if she'd provide any useful guidance. She didn't, but she did have some OTHER interesting bits of conversation - some relating to the Guild, some relating to Jaheira, and some relating to the plot. (The Jaheira bits are of course of interest to me personally, and also because I am reading all of them in the context of what I have in mind for Fault Lines. XD )

-----

"Keep the Harper out of trouble. Just because I don't want to kill her doesn't mean I won't. Beyond that - be welcome, be merry. Is there something you require of a humble guildmaster?"

-----

"What can I do to help you?"

"Keep me from having to kill the Harper. Which means keeping out of the Guild's way - all right? Wonderful."

-----

"Why do I need the Guild? I've been doing well enough without you so far."

"You have. But don't be so quick to bat away a helping hand. You'll find few enough of them in this city. The Flaming Fist can be bought, the Harpers are scattered, and the Parliament of Peers-- well, they're just generally too inbred to be useful. The Absolute's at our gate, and the Guild are the only ones truly standing against it."

-----

"We're not done discussing Minsc. Call off your ambush."

"No begging? Not even a snotty little 'please'? It's almost like you don't know who you're talking to. The order's been given. It's done. So I hope you know another tune, because I'm getting bored of this one."

-----

"You and Jaheira are an odd pairing. How do you know one another?"

"We've crossed paths over the years. Two hands trying to steer the city - just not *always* in the same direction. I can't stand Harpers as a rule, but Jaheira's the exception. She's only really half a Harper at most. The same way I'm not just the lowly thief, vagabond, and murderer the Watch and Peers would paint me as. I happen to be a fine singer too."

(A/N: I love her, haha. Nine-Fingers is such a fun character.

I was a little scared when I saw this dialogue option, worried that I was going to get something that directly contradicted the story I'm telling in Fault Lines, cos I haven't run across this conversation before. However, luckily, Astele is being pretty vague here; it's a little at angles to some stuff I have in mind, but that is easily explained by the fact that Astele is fully capable of being evasive or flat-out lying to this rando who just wandered into her office. And she most certainly is; her opinion of Jaheira is a lot more complex than she is letting on.)

-----

"How's your fight against the Absolute going?"

"Hah. Which part? The Stone Lord's hollowed this place out; half my crews are fled are in hiding. Orin's Faceless try to pierce my ranks every day, while Gortash's tin soldiers control the streets. When the Absolute's army arrives to wage war on the city, our best hope is to make sure they have no leaders in here willing to open the gates for them."

-----

"I noticed the mercenaries in your hall. Since when does the Guild work with the Zhentarim?"

"We don't. The Zhentarim work *for* me. Time was I'd charge the bastards double if I let them into my hall at all, but times change. The Guild is many things, but it's not an army. If the Absolute keeps pushing in on our territory, then I need a little weight to push back."

-----

"I'd like to know more about the Guild."

"Thieves, frauds, and miscreants - if it's just the Watch warrants you're reading. The Guild isn't any one thing. We're *everything* - all the parts of the city the Watch don't want seen, so they push us to the far side of their law. But it's not that Watch that keeps the peace, or gives justice to any Baldurian who asks, whether they can pay for it or not. It's us. If we take a little tribute in return, or tie strings of service to those we help, well, what of it? So long as we're working as one, it all runs quick, quiet, and clean."

"And what is it the Guild wants?"

"Clean water, filthy riches, and everything in between. We're citizens of the city, no more, no less. Right now, I'll settle for taking our city back."

(A/N: *chef's kiss* :D :D :D)

-----

"I ran into some of your thugs - the Rivington Rats?"

(A/N: Had to look this one up. It's the merc who were helping Arfur try to evict the squatters from his house.)

"Oh? Did you enjoy the encounter?"

"I killed them all."

"Am I supposed to swear vengeance? I heard they'd grown a little... indiscreet. The Rats usually kept a lid on their nastier notions, but with the Stone Lord business distracting me... some are starting to test the leash. All the more reason to be rid of the cult quickly, so I can remind my crews it's not a leash round their necks if they cross me. It's a noose."

----

By far, however, the most interesting bit of conversation with Nine-Fingers is this one.

"How is it you know so much about the Absolute and its leaders?"

"Simple enough. After Jaheira warned me - and then disappeared - I went nosing into the cult for myself. I could bore you with the details. How I found evidence of Gortash's 'projects', traced him to Orin the Red, and made a safe bet there was some dried out old necromancer to round out the three. Because it's always the Dead *bloody* Three - has-been half-gods who can't help but make their irrelevance everyone else's problem."

"There's more to it than just the Dead Three."

"Oh? You've got some juicy little tidbit I haven't heard yet?"

Tell her everything. The enslaved Elder Brain, the Astral Prism - you.

(A/N: This is not actually Durge-specific content, even though it sounds like it. And given Keene's response, it seems reasonable to assume that Rakha isn't actually telling her EVERYTHING - just about the tadpole and the illithid element of the Dead Three's plot.)

"Huh." A pause, then, more seriously, "Huh. It seems like my intelligence on you was patchy at best. That's annoying."

"Annoying? That's it?"

"Don't pout. For a brief second, I did weigh the odds on killing you. But if there's a tainted elder brain slopping around below my city, I think we need one another more than ever. So long as you can keep a lid on what's growing inside you, we're allies. Until you can't and we're not. Simple enough, I reckon. Now - war to be fought. You need anything?"

I love her, your honor.

Honestly I think Rakha would be more intrigued/impressed by her if she weren't threatening to kill Jaheira's friend; she has in the past seemed to gravitate to tough women who have confidence in their own worldview and are willing to beat the shit out of her if necessary. So we will see if her opinion evolves once Minsc is safe.

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #eeeeeeenteresting :D

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theic-manic · 1 hour ago

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Asmodeus manipulates as a king who owns the very game

Which is very Hermes + Apollo of him (Asmodeus as other deities posts are currently in drafting stage).

I also noticed that he loves pop culture. A demon of Theatre, if you will.

Think, Theatres des Vampires in Interview with the Vampire.

Remembering my recent dream about King Asmodeus, after the dream, he gave me the insight that Dracula is more like him than like Lucifer (also on my "King Asmodeus' assigned tasks list", demons forbid he just calls it a to-do list)

King Asmodeus is also one to send messages through others, or use other "avatars" (his wording). Why?

King Asmodeus:

When you're the demon of desire, the king of lust, master of strategy -

Me: You're rambling

King Asmodeus continues:

- you people fail to realise that my control of desire isn't limited to the arousals of the groin.

I don't just rule the house (casino) I am the fucking house and it's time that people see that.

(He naturally tells me this after bringing my attention to the movie Casino)

Anyway... I kept seeing a character on tiktok called Astarion from Baldurs gate 3 shortly after Asmodeus' recent reveal to me and I've see the character a few times at different periods in the past year while he was larping as other gods for me.

I've never played this game, nor do I have any intention to play it but it occurred to me that astarion looks very similar to the Asmodeus i saw in my dream.

(King Asmodeus seems to enjoy this because he, too, is a traumatised pansexual who appreciates fine clothing who does open up to some).

I then looked up the character and discovered that he is a vampire. Importantly, he is also known as "Astarion the decadent."

Me: 🤨 "Okay so this whole Dracula to Baldurs Gate pipeline is interesting but I don't get how-"

King Asmodeus: "Look up my epithets"

Me: "uh okay but I don't see how-

Wait a minute...

The Lord of the Ninth

You mean like that message you gave me about nine demons?!

That's a D&D reference*, King Asmodeus 🤨 why are you using D&D?

I don't play D&D... how does all of this connect?"

King Asmodeus: "What has nine hells?"

Me: "Dante's inferno (which is on my backlog), which has some artwork by Gustav Doré that you decided I needed to see yesterday... my answer to your riddle is in that poem..."

King Asmodeus: "That and Hekate's 9 keys."

Me: "of course there are additional layers... is this why you had me try to replay Dante's Inferno last year?"

King Asmodeus: *nods*

Me: "Okay now back to Astarion the decadent from Baldurs gate."

King Asmodeus: "You really know nothing about this game? Keep reading that article about Astarion."

Astarion Ancunín is a fictional character from Larian Studios' Baldur's Gate video game series, which is based on the tabletop fantasy role-playing system of Dungeons & Dragons...

Me: "You motherfu- you brought my attention to your little traumatised pansexual vampire as a way to remind me to read Paradise Lost?!"

King Asmodeus: "I like the part where I chose to do this through a character voiced by an actor called Neil"

Me: "Because you used my friend Neil to bring my attention to you...

okay that's just fucking crafty."

King Asmodeus, grinning: "Not to mention your brief love affair with that D&D player you know who brought out your kinky side and you resumed your rather delectable foray into BDSM & kink research."

Me: *sighs* "Okay, checks out. Especially when you hit the poor guy with extreme arousal only to ... cause equipment malfunction for many of our interactions....

Anyway, back to Gustave Doré.

Why do you keep insisting that I see this?

King Asmodeus: "Oh, right. While that isn't publicly described as being me, it is relevant to my history in a way."

Lesage attributes his lameness to falling from the sky after fighting with another devil.

Okay I'll read into that later.

Wait...

...he likened him to Cupid

Me: "What?!"

King Asmodeus: "Yesterday you asked me for guidance on whether to use those cherub candle holders that 'Hermes' guided you to purchase.

You forget that I have not only influenced your recent purchases, but I've influenced all of your deity altar items shopping."

Me: "Such as the cherub candle holders that have 3 cherubs, aligning to your triple aspect...

and that random triple sided bottle that I joked was like a genie bottle."

* Asmodeus is a king of demons. He was supposed by some Renaissance Christians to be the King of the Nine Hells.

#asmodeus demon #demonolatry #demonology #king asmodeus #asmodeus mythology #asmodeus worship #asmodeus deity #polytheism

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iwoszareba · 1 year ago

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truthbound

Knave/Socothbenoth

cw: questionable use of trickster powers of mind altering variety. (if i'm allowed VtM terms something like incomplete blood bond level of problematic.) also this is love-hate, awful, evil people ship

Socothbenoth's first dialogue was taken directly from the game

_ _ _

'Satisfaction' could not begin to describe how Socothbenoth felt. How can you properly put into words the pure euphoria of seeing your plans, that were years in the making, finally come to fruition?

The look of defeat on Nocticula's face will warm his heart for decades to come. To think that all it took was the right person at the right time for everything to fall into place. That and his invaluable guidance, of course. Helping to make the Crusade a spectacle of madness was an enjoyable diversion but there was nothing more he could gain from it.

"Well, now that everything is decided... I will bid you farewell, Knave. It is time for me to look for a new frien... I mean, someone new and exciting... Someone I can lead astray. I will convince them to join the glorious ranks of fools, jesters, and lovers of funny and vulgar stories! It's been a pleasure! I know you'll miss me!"

That's what he needed: a fresh start. But for now he could just kick back and bask in the afterglow of his accomplishments until it's time to set more goals or readjust the old ones.

"Don't you want to ask if I have a parting gift for you?"

He was already reaching for the door handle but that question stopped him in his tracks. He could just leave. He should just leave. But after all the crazy things this Knave-Commander pulled off… he couldn't deny curiosity. He turned around.

"You got me something? Darling, you shouldn't have. Getting to see you grow from a confused, bloodthirsty puppy, into a distinguished creature of chaos was a gift enough."

He expected to see him as usual: all smiles, craving any scrap of his attention, practically begging. Instead Knave looked at him with an unreadable expression, head slightly tilted as if considering. Somehow that was more concerning than any of his touch too wide grins. Curiosity wasn't worth this.

"Really it's fine… just send whatever it is via messenger, maybe that mangy thief of yours can drop it off at my place when he comes to the Abyss."

He grabbed the handle and pushed but his relief was disturbed by the sharp, electric sound of magic. As he took one step through the doors, a portal brought him face to face with the Commander once again.

"I can't believe you thought you could just leave without my say-so. I would take offence at the rudeness if it wasn't so adorable."

This was not how Socothbenoth imagined this goodbye. Maybe he miscalculated, maybe he shouldn't have implied earlier that they probably will never meet again. He often forgot that some people can get attached so easily. No matter, he can play along for a while more.

"Can you blame me? I am a busy man. Especially now, when you helped to create so many new opportunities for me. Something I'll always be grateful for."

"Tsk tsk, tsk. Liar, liar pants on fire. Do you ever get tired of your own bullshit?"

Socothbenoth opened his mouth but before he could find words to rebuke such insolence Knave continued his little tirade.

"I wonder if there is a single person you have ever been truly loyal to? I doubt you see anyone in your congregation as worthy enough, your lovers are tools to be kept or discarded, the Council was always a sham… you couldn't even keep a semi-decent relation with your own sister."

Mentioning Nocticula in such fashion was a step too far and even now it made Socothbenoth wince. He gritted his teeth and tried not to snarl his next words, but they still came out as an angry hiss.

"Is there a point to this?"

There was a level of smugness to Knave that only people who delight in hitting a nerve can display. Normally an attractive trait, not so much right now.

"I know such things are not in your nature and I don't blame you for that but… I admit it does make me curious. What would happen if I took all the honeyed words you fed me and made them true? Wouldn't that be refreshing? The sense that you said something and actually meant it."

Was that something he could do? Of course Socothbenoth heard the stories of Knave's exploits in Alushinyrra. Changing someone's form was not far from fleshwarping the demon lord would perform himself or teach to his faithful, but while similar in effect, Commander's powers seemed to work under a completely different paradigm. And physical matter still was nothing compared to something as intangible as 'the truth'.

"We can just talk about thi-"

Something deep inside him hummed, as if his very essence started to slightly vibrate awaiting what is going to happen to it next.

"You already talked plenty enough. Mmm what lies have you uttered... Maybe when you said you've been looking for someone exactly like me all these years?"

He was standing still but the sensation escalated to scraping at the back of his skull and squirming inside his chest. Impatient search for remembrance followed by a swift judgement.

"That was the truth! It's not my fault the meaning wasn't quite what you desired."

Knave nodded despite not looking convinced.

"I see, then what about those times you called me special… captivating… irreplaceable?"

The last word was the one that fully did the trick and started to ring at Socothbenoth's core with near-painful veracity. He felt feverish, as if his body was fighting to reject this foreign element, something so at odds with his demonic nature. But it was too late, this… connection has already taken root, strong and true, but twisted by the environment it found itself in. Addictive in its cravings and covetous in its devotion. Socothbenoth started to laugh hard enough that tar-like tears formed in the corners of his black eyes.

"What's so funny to you?"

The look of smug satisfaction on Knave's face was first replaced by confusion and then visible distress. He grabbed his chest as if to check the sensations there. Despite everything Socothbenoth couldn't help but delight in having the upper hand again.

"Oh, I just remembered something else I've said: we were made for each other, you were made for me."

Knave blinked in surprise.

"What? I don't recall anything like that."

Socothbenoth smiled lecherously, closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Knave's waist bringing their bodies together.

"At the time I had you so deep in the throes of passion, no wonder you were a little… distracted."

"...You are lying."

It sounded as half-hearted bargaining of someone not ready to accept the reality.

"Does it feel like a lie?"

Knave was biting his bottom lip in frustration, quite a tantalising sight.

"No. I guess I made sure of that."

It was easy to expect this sentence to be punctuated with an angry groan but what followed instead was a soft rumble of laughter. Knave's next words were barely a whisper.

"It is kind of funny, when you start to think about it."

That was not really the word Socothbenoth would use to describe their situation, but if comedy is in the unexpected… he had to admit that in his long life as a demon lord he has never felt… this, whatever it was. They stood for a while in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, still wrapped in an embrace. Neither seemed willing to release the other but Knave was first to break the strange tranquillity of the moment.

"I still hate you, you know."

Demon lord faux gasped.

"Shouldn't it be 'I love you more than anything else in this world'?"

There was a pause for struggle between admission and denial.

"The two aren't mutually exclusive."

The amount of vitriol in his voice was delightful. The Commander was way more exciting like this compared to when he was acting all star-struck.

"I just thought you would be all pliant now."

He purred trying to rile him up more but instead Knave furrowed his eyebrows in consideration.

"I don't… fully understand what I did but I'm fairly sure it's not a compulsion nor geas. I don't have to do anything. And neither do you. If you wish, you are free to leave."

He waved his hand around in a specific but messy gesture and Socothbenoth could tell that the portal in the doors behind them deactivated. Which was a sweet sentiment but he was no longer in a hurry.

"I am a busy man but I may have another moment to spare. Other jesters and madmen will have to wait another day…"

He pulled Knave into a kiss that felt hungry to the point where it made him consider a crazy notion, that perhaps the two of them exchanged a fraction of their souls and would have to tear each other open if they wanted to get them back.

#writing tag #oc: knave #have you ever accidentally bound yourself to your shitty i guess boyfriend with chaos powers you only somewhat understand?#biggest trickster self-own of the decade #i'm sorry for this whole premise being genuinely unhinged #also the easiest VtM au imaginable: knave is a sabbat malkavian and socoth is a local setite

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basingstokemercury · 1 year ago

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Album liner of "Come All Ye Fair And Tender Ladies" (Pernell Roberts, folk/country, 1963).

Transcript below image.

HOW A FOLK SINGER GETS THAT WAY...

by the co-star of the "Bonanza" TV Show

At the age of 32, two and one-half years ago, I bought myself a guitar along with Pete Seeger's instruction book and record. Very painfully, I learned to play - not too well by any means, but enough to chord and accompany myself for folk songs. I can't possibly describe the joy and sense of accomplishment when my fingers finally behaved themselves and formed A, E and B-7. (Then a whole new world opened up with C, F, G-7, A-7, D-7, etc!) I was born again! However, I ran into a problem... if I played Chunk! Chunk! Chunk!, I sang "Chunk! Chunk! Chunk!" What to do? Well, it's like when the tourist came to New York and asked a little old lady, "How do you get to Carnegie Hall?" She replied, "Practice." I did and it's richly rewarding. Aside from acting, the thing I enjoy most is singing and - most of all - folk songs. Of course, next to singing folk songs, listening to folk songs… especially when performed by people like Odetta, Joan Baez, Bob Gibson, Pete Seeger, Jack Elliott, Woody Guthrie, Leadbelly, Big Bill Broonzy, Lightnin' Hopkins, Barbara Dane - and, oh, so many others that it would take the backs of three album jackets just to list them. Although I realize that folk songs, singers and records are exceedingly popular, I know there are also a lot of people who are not familiar with this area of music. I know that most of you who pick up this album will do so because of the television series I'm associated with. But what I'm hoping, more than anything else, is that you also pick up something new in the way of music appreciation. I highly recommend all of John and Alan Lomax's books of folk songs and, most essentially, the folk song magazine "Sing Out." What a rich heritage we all have in this form of music. When I sing a song like Woody Guthrie's Pastures of Plenty, my problems in life seem a bit unimportant compared to the problems of other people. I quickly realize just how un-unique I am, that we all face many problems of daily living, and singing about them seems to make it all a little easier to take. That's why folk songs and folk lore were the basic source of material for this album, and I'd like to thank Steve Sholes for asking me to do it, Neely Plumb for his infinite patience and guidance, Jim Malloy for his engineering seal, Perry Botkin, Jr. for his perceptive arranging "pointing", and last of all - but far from least - Dick Rosmini. Dick, in my opinion, is a talent to be reckoned with. Besides being an extraordinary six or twelve-string guitarist, banjo player and folk singer, he also writes beautiful songs and adaptations, notably - in this album - Alberta and Mary Ann. Richard, thank you for making this such a rewarding and exciting experience! PERNELL ROBERTS

#pernell roberts #bonanza

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gatekeeper-watchman · 10 months ago

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Daily Devotionals for April 29, 2024

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 15:10-12(KJV): 10 Correction is grievous unto him that forsaketh the way: and he that hateth reproof shall die. 11 Hell and destruction are before the LORD: how much more than the hearts of the children of men? 12 A scorner loveth not one that reproveth him: neither will he go unto the wise. Proverbs 15:10-12(Amp): 10 There is severe discipline for him who forsakes God's way, and he who hates reproof will die (physically, morally, and spiritually). 11 Sheol (the place of the dead) and Abaddon (the abyss, the final place of the accuser Satan) both are before the Lord; how much more than the hearts of the children of men? 12 A scorner has no love for one who rebukes him, neither will he go to the wise (for counsel).

Thought for the Day

Verse 10 - Correction and reproof keep a man on the path of life. Just as a child requires correction to learn the things that will help him grow and mature properly, we all need the correction of our heavenly Father to avoid the things that can destroy us. Notice that the death spoken of is physical, moral, and spiritual. All who are without Christ are spiritually dead, though they do not know it. Only with Christ and by His guidance can we safely journey through this life.

"And you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins: Wherein in time past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience: Among whom also we all had our conversation in times past in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and the mind; and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others. But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, Even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by grace ye are saved;)" (Ephesians 2:1-6).

Verse 11 - If hell and the place of the dead are visible to God, how much more are men's hearts visible to Him? We may be able to deceive people into thinking that we are good Christians, but God sees our hearts. If we are not walking in the truth, He knows it. We will reap what we sow. If we belong to Christ, our lives should show it.

Verse 12 - Fools despise correction and their pride keeps them from coming to the wise ones for guidance. Their lusts and desires lead them. If they do not repent and turn to Jesus, their end will be hell. The Lord does not desire that anyone should perish, but because He has given each of us the gift of free will, we choose whom we serve, either God or Satan. We may think we can choose to serve ourselves, but this is not an option. If we serve ourselves, we are serving Satan. God has given us, His children, the task of sharing the Gospel with those around us so that they will have the opportunity to accept Christ as their Savior and escape hell (2 Peter 3:9). May we welcome the Lord's correction so that we will not open the door for Satan to attack us through our rebellion and sin. May we also pray for and witness to the lost so that they may be saved and escape the torments of hell.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Father God, thank you that You are a good Father to me. Deliver me of any rebellion that would cause me to ignore Your leading in my life. Strengthen and help me, so that I will always be an obedient child. I do appreciate Your patience toward me. Give me patience with those around me who do not know You. Let me share the gospel in love with each of them. Thank you, for delivering me from hell. I am grateful for the promise of Your presence with me in this life and the promise of heaven to come. Lord, watch over all of Your children and keep us from evil. I ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen. From: Steven P. Miller @ParkermillerQ, gatekeeperwatchman.org Founder of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups, Sunday, April 28, 2024, Jacksonville, Florida., USA. X ... @ParkermillerQ #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller, #Eldermiller1981 GROUP: https://www.facebook.com/groups/Sparkermiller.JAX.FL.USA

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akilsposts · 10 months ago

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In Life, In Sickness and In Death...

There are some people who leave an indelible mark on your life. While it would be futile to say that we as individual entities are the product or handiwork of a single person, it is no stretch to state that there are some people about whom we can confidently affirm, "I wouldn't have been here, if not for them!" Today, I lost one of those people.

At the age of thirty three, when I still have more regrets than any sense of accomplishment, there are still a few things I feel proud about. It is in the accomplishment of these few things that I am most indebted to comrade V. Venugopal. Venu maaman, as he's affectionately called by most of the younger generation whom he brought up with the utmost care, left his mark on me while helping me achieve those few things that I genuinely count as my accomplishments.

I have known Venu maaman for a long time: twenty seven years is how far back I can stretch my memory. However, for long he had remained as someone I only knew and occasionally saw. I knew him as one of the important leaders of SUCI(Communist) and someone who lived in Ambalapuzha, and as someone who brought up a battalion of children. I would also see him at the Children's Camp organised by Prachodana which was held every year during the summer holidays. These camps were memorable affairs, not just in themselves, but also because this battalion of children were there without fail. They were all talented, verbose and most things that I was not. Naturally, I found them fascinating. Looking back, and of course in hindsight, they were my first gateway to the personality that was Venu maaman. Yet, I don't remember having a single conversation with him. That was until I turned 16. In the summer of 2007, my mother 'volunteered' me and my sister for a 'camp' in Kannur. She did not know that it would change our lives forever. (Neither did we). The usual battalion was present. There were a few others too. The one week we spent in Kannur, collecting funds and practicing a street drama which was presented at the farmers' agitation in Wayanad is marked in bold letters in the pages of my mind. The organisation which we became a part of, Komsomol - the league of young communists, became our organisation. It was in the course of formation and development of this organisation that I came to really know Venu maaman. Unlike the Children's Camp, the Komsomol camps and classes were by and large conducted under his direct supervision. It was through these camps and classes that we were inducted into the philosophy of Marxism. Venu maaman used to personally take many of these classes, or used to make the concluding talks for many topics. I found his speeches profoundly enlightening. I did not understand them fully at the time but there have been times later in life when I could see many aspects from his speeches come true. It felt like the future was being predicted. Needless to say, it not only increased my confidence in the philosophy that Venu maaman was trying to impart in us but also my confidence in his leadership. However, most important to me was the sense of belonging that was slowly starting to sprout inside my mind. Till then I had lived my life with a feeling that I did not belong anywhere. The gnawing insecurity had contributed much to the lack of confidence and a weak character. It was through the activities of Komsomol, under the guidance of Venu maaman that I first truly felt that I was in a place that I wanted to be and that I was doing something that I wanted to do.

Nonetheless, being the person that I was, I had to go away and make more mistakes and learn a few things on my own before I could make my way back to Venu maaman and his guidance. For this, I'll always be grateful to comrade Aparna. It took some amount of coaxing and nagging on her part for me to finally approach Venu maaman with my thoughts and concerns. Being a private person who was open with only a few people in life, it was very difficult for me to go to Venu maaman with my problems. Even more unthinkable was the thought of speaking about them. Therefore, I did not do that. Instead, I sent him a letter. He addressed my issues when I visited him later. I repeated this process once more. Later, once when I told him I had something to tell him and that I would write, he insisted that I speak and not write. That was one more odd to surmount but he made sure I did.

Venu maaman was the perfect guide: tailor made for me, or so I would like to believe. He listened to my concerns but did not hand out any solutions. Instead, he laid out an approach and left me to find my own solutions. Again in hindsight, I realise that was an essential process. Handing out solutions would have been easy for him to do but by laying out an approach he was allowing me to chart out my own thought process and make my own mistakes. For someone who was very limited in making decisions on my own, all these were important and essential steps of a process. This continued all the way till he could no longer do it physically. In the meantime, he and comrade C.K. Lukose imparted enough lessons for me to trust the leadership of the party and to develop a dialectical relationship with the organisation.

It was a surprise when the party listed me among the volunteers entrusted to care for Venu maaman when he became bedridden. I did not feel I could do justice to what was being asked of me. However, I am glad that I was chosen because each time I came for my turn, I learned something new. Many of these filled me with wonder and awe, including about his intellectual capacity. Yet, the most beautifully striking thing that stood out for me was that even amidst episodes of memory lapses, each and every thoughts of his were about the party and its well being. In extension, each of his thoughts were for revolution. In sickness, he was imparting important lessons.

Venu maaman's death was not totally unexpected. However undesirable the thought, there was a feeling that it was slowly creeping up on him. He was small in death. His body had emaciated very much. Yet, as he lay there, I was again struck by how death has only served to make him even bigger. There were raw emotions at the loss. There were tears shed for the immense loss the society has suffered. There were lots of people. The old who could barely stand. The young who could not and would not hold their tears. Comrades of many years. Acquaintances few meetings old. The renowned who had shared many a distinguished stage. The poor and the struggling masses who had fought and won under his command. Friends and doubters. Supporters and opponents. They were all united in their conviction that an individual of barely believable qualities had passed away. In death, he was teaching us what boundless love could achieve.

Even as I say this, I am acutely aware of many of the limitations that are holding me back. It would be a lie to say that I have unwaveringly stuck by all that Venu maaman has imparted. I have wavered, at times more than others, but now I can confidently say without any reservations that I am in that place and station in life that I belong. For someone reluctant to show my love, I have seen what I stand to lose by not sharing it. Even more, I realise I simply have to love more and more, and then some more. Of course, I continue to make mistakes but I believe I have a process to fall back on and correct myself. The path ahead is illumined but how I tread it will depend on my realisations. Now that I have looked back, it has made me realise that comrade V. Venugopal has left an even greater mark on me than I had thought. All these have also made me realise that he remains with us, no matter what. In life, in sickness and in death. Red Salute comrade V. Venugopal!

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whentherewerebicycles · 2 years ago

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my beloved pups :) period started overnight and I woke up so sad. but I think the one good thing from this bummer of a weekend is that I feel like I’ve reached some clarity about next steps. I want to hold firm to the original boundary I set before starting this process: no IVF, at least in the US. truly zero judgment of anyone else’s choices but having a biological child is not so important to me that I want to mortgage my own future (and my kids’ futures) to it financially. and I’m genuinely interested in and open to fostering to adopt even though I have some nervousness around the idea.

so here’s my plan, because you know I can’t function without a plan:

depending on what my dr says tomorrow, I’ll pursue additional testing if it’s not crazy expensive. if there’s a physical reason IUI can’t work for me I would like to know so I can feel confident I’ve fully tried that option.

assuming there isn’t a physical reason and I just haven’t gotten lucky yet… I have gone through a lot research to try to understand the clinical guidance. I wanted to understand if the “3 failed IUIs = IVF is your only option” advice is based in good science or if it’s one of those things that people repeat to each other because they’ve heard it a lot. (I also wanted to know if it’s one of those things where our culture’s tendency to pathologize and hypermedicalize pushes people towards the invasive high-tech expensive options sooner than necessary). I am not 100% confident in my ability to interpret scientific data so you know, grain of salt but: it does seem like a lot of the studies that recommend the 3 cycle limit are single-clinic studies with small sample sizes. I found a more recent and much larger study that concluded that people who do 6-9 cycles still achieve similar rates of pregnancy as people who do 3-4. so it seems like the drop-off maybe isn’t as precipitous as the internet would have you believe. it’s hard to imagine doing 9 cycles (financially and emotionally) but I think I could do up to six.

I signed up this morning for the foster care licensing course online (in my state you have to be licensed both to foster and to adopt from foster care). I have to complete eight 3-hour sessions plus additional in-person stuff at the end. I want to set a goal of completing one session per week—maybe an hour a night spread over a few nights. I also want to use this process to engage in sustained reflection and writing about my feelings/fears around pursuing parenting by another route. it seems totally normal and expected that I’d have a lot of head/heart-clearing to do before I’m ready to tackle a big life-changing commitment. so I want to begin that work now. I would like to complete the online training by July 15 (and I of course have my own syllabus of secondary readings I want to do too lol). I’ve heard the home study process you have to complete after training can take anywhere from 3-9 months, so starting now will get me moving in that direction but won’t obligate me to make any big decisions for a while yet.

IVF abroad is still a possibility—I budgeted it out for one of the Greece clinics and I think I could do it for $8-9k which includes all travel and lodging costs (not bad if I also get a fun two-week vacation out of it!). but I couldn’t afford to do that financially or PTO-wise until November/December, so I think it makes sense to move forward on other fronts for now and keep that as a back-burner idea I can return to in a couple months.

and lastly: here’s a final emotional thing I want to register. as I expected it might, this process has been stirring up a lot of old buried gender shame, which isn’t specifically about my body but has more to do with that one quote people reblog on tumblr that goes something like I have always been ashamed of being witnessed in the act of wanting what I can’t have. my gender shame has always had so little to do with my gendered body and so much to do with the feeling that people are watching me want to embody something I can’t embody in a way that convinces anyone. I spent so much of my life feeling shut out of girlhood, and even though most of the time I couldn’t decide if I even wanted to be let into girlhood (my feelings are still decidedly mixed!), that feeling of being shut out still kinda fucks you up inside, you know? I feel like I’ve made a lot of peace with that old pain and a lot of progress towards expanding my conception of what being a woman means (as emi koyama puts it in the transfeminist manifesto: there are as many ways of being a woman as there are women). but it makes sense that when you encounter new triggers for old pain it would take a while to kinda recalibrate and find your equilibrium again. right now I want to have a baby—ie I want to do this human thing that our culture associates (strongly, insistently, at times punitively) with “successful” womanhood. and I am so far failing repeatedly to have a baby! I am failing even with the help of medical interventions that are supposed to ramp up my ~insufficiently feminine~ body’s ability to do this thing that “women’s bodies” are supposed to be able to do without help. like, one million scare quotes around ALL of this—this isn’t what I believe in my head but it is the deeply ingrained cultural script that’s been drilled into my heart! so I think a lot of the heaviness I’m feeling around this whole thing is just like, the old pain, the old shame, the old buried humiliation of being witnessed in the act of wanting something I can’t have. and I may need to make a bit more space for myself to do some gentle and compassionate excavating of those ugly, shameful feelings so I can look at them in the light and say: yes, that’s a thought, but it isn’t mine. it never was. it came from somewhere else, a tiny little fragment of cultural shrapnel embedded in my heart. I may never be able to remove it completely but I don’t have to confuse it for part of me and I have the tools now to keep its slow poison from leaching into my blood. I am whole as I am. I am loved as I am; I love myself as I am. I can acknowledge the old bad feelings with compassion, but I don’t ever have to ever go back to that time in my life when I treated shame as the only or truest truth.

#IUI tag #long post #personal #girls I have been

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zoeykallus · 2 years ago

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Hello Zoey,

I hope above all that your morale is better and that you are doing well?

I saw the last episode of the Bad Batch and I find it too cute the little flirtation between Tech and Phee.

Suddenly I wondered that it could be the sexual orientation of the members of Bad Batch and Rex.

Here is my feeling:

Hunter: Hetero

Wrecker: Gay

Tech: At first I thought no guidance but now Hetero

Echo: I don't know

Crosshair: Hetero

Rex: Gay or Bi

Omega: Leave him his innocence. ☺️

I'm curious to know your feelings?

I send you lots of positive thoughts and you always make exciting fics to read 😍

Aloha!

It's an up and down, but at the moment I am doing okay so far, despite the circumstances. Thank you for asking 😊

Well, to be honest, I never really put a lot of thought into what their sexual orientation is. Okay, aside from automatically assuming they are hetero, which I guess just happens automatically when thinking about beloved characters and being hetero yourself. Okay, maybe not 100% hetero in my case, but yeah.

So, honestly, I think they could be anything. When it comes to writing, I'm open to any suggestion, there is no limit, at least for me when it comes to 'love', or in this case imagination, they are fictional characters after all.

I love to dive in and imagine while writing, but aside from that, I didn't really have an opinion on their orientation.

Being an Afab and identifying myself as female, of course, one of my first instincts is to imagine and write that way, if not asked for something else. But honestly, I'm generally intrigued by the thought of affection between two people, no matter the gender. So, yes, it could be that some of them are gay, bi or what else there is in terms of sexual orientation.

Before Phee showed up and the last episode in particular, I honestly thought Tech would be not really interested in physical contact in terms of intimacy, and canon wise, I was wrong with that assumption... I guess.

Yes, I wrote steamy, dirty things about this guy simply because I adore my goggled genius, but in the back of my mind was always the thought that Tech was more interested in other stimulation with someone he had affection for than sex. But honestly I'm not sure what that's called.... Yes, I'm an idiot in some regards, but I'm fine with that 😋

So no, aside from Tech, I didn't have any deep, preconceived thoughts about the sexual orientation of The Bad Batch or any other clone. Oh, but stop….Fives, if I had to guess, I would absolutely guess that Fives is interested in all genders, and that he has no preconceived opinions or tastes physically either. I think Fives is someone who likes to sweep others along and let himself be swept along. By that I don't mean that he fucks everyone who comes his way, but that he is excited by people who approach him in an open, lively and curious way, that something like that attracts and stimulates him much more than a certain sex or appearance.

But that's just my headcanon, my idea of this fictional character.

Well, I see I wrote a lot more about this topic than I planned to in the first place 😅 Does this answer your question?

#tbb s 2 spoiler #spoiler #bad batch spoiler #asks #clones #tbb #just my thoughts

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kyzveryown · 2 years ago

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K I N G D O M H E A R T S | R E : W O R K S E R I E S DIVERGE: CHI + BACK COVER — The Foretellers, Ava

Ava was the youngest of the Foretellers and, despite her young age, she was adept at magic – even being able to cast grand spells. Still, she was naïve. As a Daybreak native, she lived a mostly sheltered life free of any exposure to darkness. It was hard for her to imagine that a calamity such as the darkness scourge existed, even much less that there were realms beyond the skies of Daybreak. In her eyes, things couldn’t have been as bad as they’d seemed. Ava, like many, was spoiled by the light’s grace. However, that gave her the freedom to be her spunky and cheerful self. Her heart was so pure it was infectious, but that’s what drew people to her, and what allowed her to get close to others.

Having received his request the day prior, Ava ventured to the Master’s chamber. When she arrived, he was deeply engrossed in an alchemic experiment. He was unusually silent, which was a rare occurrence. After finishing up his notes, he turned in his chair then slapped his thighs.

“So, you're curious about the Book of Prophecies, right?”

“Huh? Uh, well, maybe. Is that the reason you asked me to come by?”

“Hmm, yes and no. The Book of Prophecies is a golden trove of information. But unfortunately, that's all it is. It can't prevent catastrophes from happening, and it can't change anything. However,” The Master paused for a second, then wagged his index finger. “Knowledge is key. And with enough knowledge, you can do just about anything ‒ even tip the scales of destiny. So, the Book of Prophecies is a must have! Unfortunately, that's what makes it extremely dangerous. In the hands of someone with dark intentions, they can turn our reality upside down.”

“That’s why you keep the Book hidden?”

“Yeah, it's a bummer though. I don't get to read it at all” the Master pouted, palming his cheek. “Just imagine the kinds of juicy secrets that are in there?! So many things to know like, for example, my face under this hood! The Book knows what I look like! If you were curious enough, you could find out just how dashing and drop-dead handsome I am! Who knows, I could be an Adonis under here!”

Ava frowned. “Uh, Master, what you look like doesn't matter.”

“Huh?” The Master replied in a softened and dejected voice. He lowered his head then whimpered while clutching his chest, “My spirit is broken, and my heart is irreparably damaged.”

“I didn't mean it that way. You're our Master, and we value you and your guidance. So...”

The Master lifted his head for a second, then leapt from the chair to his feet, stroking his chin. “Of course, you do!! I mean, I am amazing. Hehe.”

Ava couldn’t help but frown again.

(Didn’t take long for him to snap out of it…)

“Anyway,” the Master continued, looking down at her. “Having limitless knowledge opens the door to infinite possibilities. And who doesn't want that kind of power? In fact, I can think of one group of dastardly creatures that'd absolutely LOVE to get their hands on it. Care to guess who?”

“Hmm…the Darkness?”

“Bingo!” he nearly shouted. “Like I said, whatever the book records will happen. Well, that is, unless someone comes into possession of it and starts throwing everything out of whack. So, in preparation for that eventuality, I have an mission for you and only you.”

“Uh, me?” Ava asked, confusedly pointing to herself.

“Yes. You might be the only hope of keeping the light from expiring.”

“Light expiring? W-What do you mean? And why me??”

“Because you’re like a light that never stops shining.” He said, then placed his hand on her shoulder. “A little candle whose fire never fades even in darkness. And you’ve got a heart stronger than anyone that I’ve ever come across. Who, better than someone like that to carry on the legacy of the light? Hmm?”

“Uh huh. You’re just trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

The Master chuckled. He tapped her shoulder then took a step back. “More or less. The fact is, is that you’re the only person I can turn to for such a huge undertaking. The others simply aren’t reliable enough. This is something that you, and only you, can do.”

Ava paused for a moment. On the one hand, knowing he’d had that much faith in herbmade her happy. But on the other hand, the “important mission” he was coaxingbher into didn’t inspire much confidence. After all, she had no idea what the “mission”bwould entail, and she lacked the experience the others had. Still, she couldbsee that he was being sincere. The Master was never one to take serious matters lightly. So, having thought about it, she made up her mind.

“All right, if you say so. What is it that you need me to do?”

“It's simple – forget the notion of unions, find keyblade warriors with potential, and nurture them until they've fully matured ‒ in secret, of course. Then, when the time comes, send them off to another world. They will keep the light alive.”

Ava lowered her head and gripped her robe’s sides. “Are you sure that I’m right person for this?”

The Master gently lifted her head with his hand. “Ava, you're the only person for this. I know you can do it, and I trust you wholeheartedly. If I didn’t have some faith in you, then I wouldn’t have taken you under my wing. So, lighten up. This is your big break.”

“I understand but...you said that the Book falling into the wrong hands is something that could happen. But from the way you’ve been talking, it almost seems like you know something will happen. I-I'm not doubting you or anything! It’s just that…if someone does find the book, then…”

“Let me guess, you want to know what’s inside the Book that’s sooo dangerous, right? Hmm, I guess I could give you a hint. But you have to promise me one thing…” Suddenly, his voice darkened. “Don't get involved in anything going forward – not even squabbles between the others. You hear?”

“O-Okay. I promise.” Ava nodded.

“All right then. Tell me Ava, what is the one thing that people fear the most?”

She thought to herself for a moment. “I guess...the end of life? Or the darkness, maybe?”

“Good choices but no. The answer is rather simple.”

The Master bent down to her level then whispered into the side of her hood.

“It’s the truth.”

#kingdom hearts #writing #fanfic #khux #union cross #kh union x #fanfiction #rework #master ava #master of masters #au fanfic

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