#people will always chant things its just human nature !!!!

[oflgtfol]

“the mandalorians chanting ‘this is the way’ really sounds like a cult huh?” wow almost like chanting has always been a culturally important thing across the world and throughout human history! almost like chanting as a group is an activity meant for connection and community

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Day seventeen: Darling being sacrificed to Deity!Chrollo

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Only thing I have to say is 🥺💕💕💕, I love him

The air was thick with incense and the soft murmurs of the cultists, their chants rising and falling like a tide all around you. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows across the chamber walls, and despite the warmth of the room, a chill settled deep into your bones.

You were bound to an altar of cold stone, unable to move, fear coursing through your veins. They had called it a “gift,” this sacrifice they were making, but all you felt was the dread creeping up your spine.

“Great Chrollo,” One of them intoned louder this time, bowing so low that her forehead brushed the ground. “We offer this sacrifice in exchange for your infinite wisdom. Please, hear our plea, benevolent God and if were worthy, grace us with your presence.”

You wanted to scream at them, to swear at their existence but they put a gag over your lips so you couldn't interrumpt their prayers and summoning.

If you died, you wanted to return as a ghost, the most violent one, just so you could haunt them to the point that not even their god could help them.

There was a moment of stillness, and then, the very air seemed to bend, a presence sliding into existence as if it had always been there. Chrollo emerged from the darkness, his form solidifying from the shadows, and you felt a shiver run through you at the sight of him. He was unnaturally beautiful, a figure that radiated both menace and an inexplicable calm. The cultists remained praying and thanking him.

His eyes, dark as ink, met yours as soon as he appeared, and there was something ancient within them, something that spoke of endless years spent peering into the abyss.

“You summon me, as you always do,” Chrollo said, his voice soft, almost contemplative, its tone and syllables made you stop trembling as an unexplainable calm washed over you. “And as always, you ask for answers.”

He took a step forward, gaze drifting over you with a detached curiosity, as if studying a painting in a gallery. “You desire knowledge, yet you fear the cost. Isn’t that the paradox of humanity?”

One of the cultists dared to speak, voice trembling with reverence. “We understand the price, Great Chrollo. For each answer, a life must be given.”

Chrollo chuckled, a sound that was more thoughtful than amused. “Ah, but do you truly understand?” He turned his back on them, walking around you, his steps slow and deliberate. “Knowledge is a burden, not a gift. Every answer begets more questions, and every revelation strips away the comfort of ignorance. You offer a life for what? A fleeting moment of clarity in an endless sea of uncertainty?”

His fingers brushed against your cheek, and you flinched, the touch cold as ice. He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly and then he smiled, but it was a distant, melancholic thing, as if he were reminiscing about something long lost.

“And yet,” Chrollo murmured, “here you are, placed on this altar, offered up as if you were nothing more than a token in a game they scarcely understand. How do you feel?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to find your voice as he took out the gag from your lips. “I didn’t… I didn’t ask for this,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. “I don’t want to die.”

Chrollo’s eyes softened and for a moment, there was something almost kind in his expression. “Few do,” He replied, “but that’s the nature of sacrifice, isn’t it? It’s rarely a choice. It’s something taken, something demanded, without regard for the will of the one who must pay the price.”

He tilted his head, considering you as if you were a riddle he was trying to solve. “Tell me, do you believe in fate? In the idea that some are destined to be pawns, while others move the pieces?”

You stared at him, struggling to understand his words. “I… I don’t know.”

“An honest answer,” Chrollo mused, a faint smile touching his lips. “How rare. Most people spend their lives pretending they have all the answers when, in truth, they’re adrift, terrified of the great unknown.” He looked back at the cultists, who were still kneeling, waiting for their moment of enlightenment.

“You seek knowledge,” He said to them, his tone gentle but laced with an unspoken warning. “But knowledge is not a gift freely given. It is something that devours, something that demands its pound of flesh.”

“Please, Great Chrollo,” one of them pleaded, “grant us the wisdom we seek!”

He sighed, almost as if he were disappointed, and then, with a wave of his hand, the room erupted into darkness. When the shadows receded, the cultists were gone, their bodies erased from existence, leaving only you and Chrollo standing in the silence.

You stared at him, heart pounding in your chest. “What… what did you do?”

“I gave them their answer,” He replied simply, turning his gaze back to you. “And in doing so, I took what was owed. That is the way of all things — equilibrium. For every truth, there must be a consequence.”

“Then… why am I still here?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper. "Wasn’t I your sacrifice?"

Chrollo’s smile returned, softer this time, tinged with an unspoken sadness. “Because you,” He said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, “are a question I have yet to answer. You are an enigma, a puzzle placed before me and I am nothing if not curious, as you're so alike my past lover.”

"Whatever do you mean by that?" You asked, your eyes searching for something inside of his. But you were answered only with a simple smile of his, for a god of knowledge, Chrollo was fond of not giving any answer at all.

Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin and you could feel the weight of his presence enveloping you like a mantle. “It means what it means, dear Y/n. Until my curiosity is satisfied, you will remain mine.”

He pulled back, his expression thoughtful, almost serene as he worked to free your limbs from the ropes and caressed your skin softly.

“You see,” Chrollo continued, as if explaining something to his favorite student. Even if you were nothing but uncomfortable with the whole situation, it didn'tmatter in his opinion. “there’s a beauty in the unknown, in the spaces between questions and answers. That’s where the most profound truths lie. And you, in your fear and defiance… you are the embodiment of that mystery.”

You trembled under his gaze and Chrollo chuckled softly, an echo of amusement rippling through the still air as he pulled you closer. “Don’t worry,” He murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I have no intention to hurt you but I also can't let you go, you're rightfully mine, my sweet sacrifice.”

And as the darkness crept closer, swallowing the light, you realized that you had become another question in Chrollo’s infinite search for knowledge — a mystery bound to him, and him alone, until the day he decided that your answer was worth the price.

[youremyheaven]

Frequently Asked Questions:

I get some version of these pretty much every day so I thought I'd make an FAQ:

What is my dominant planet/How do I find it?

If you knew enough about astrology and your birth chart, you would know which planet influenced you the most. Most people acutely feel a combination of at least 2-3 planetary influences most strongly. In reality, every single planet and nakshatra in our chart influences us but we probably aren't self-aware enough/knowledgeable about astrology enough to see how it impacts us. Each planet correlates to a different area of your life. Since Sun represents the soul/outer self and Moon represents the mind/emotions, its safe to say these 2 placements impact every area of life but when it comes to relationships/creativity/beauty, you channel your Venus whether you're aware of it or not and same goes for all other planets. Whenever you do something of a creative bent, you tap into your Ketu, your education is affected by your Mercury and Jupiter, so on and so forth.

If you're very new to vedic astrology or if you haven't been able to figure out your dominant planets, just let it be!! This is not a puzzle to be solved, there is no way for you or somebody else to mechanically calculate your "dominant" planet. I don't know you, I don't know what you look like, what your personality is like, so there is absolutely no way for me to tell what influence comes through most acutely.

Also, the concept of "dominance" itself is pretty much a made up one (thanks Claire Nakti) so literally, just chill out!!! Read about your placements, and learn more about astrology instead of trying to claim planets. You're influenced by your whole chart, its that simple. That's it.

2. Which website should I use?

You can use astro seek.com or the Cosmic Insights app or the Jagannatha Hora app. On astro seek, you have to adjust to "whole sign" instead of Placidus though. On the others, that's the default setting, I think.

3. Which ayanamsa should I use?

I stick to Lahiri

4. I have xyz nak/planet/house, am I doomed/ugly/forever alone/unlucky?

NO

Astrology helps us understand our strengths and weaknesses, there is no placement that comes as a death sentence of some sort. I feel like most people don't understand that your birth chart is supposed to make you self-aware of your natural inclinations, tendencies, patterns etc so that you can work with them/make necessary changes etc. Your chart is NOT set in stone. Human behaviour is far too complex to be narrowed down to a birth chart. It shows your INCLINATIONS, which means that if you're self aware, you can make necessary adjustments to work on unhealthy habits/tendencies.

Astrology is not "this is who you are, you suck",, it's a tool for self-growth.

If you have difficult placements, you need to pay more attention to them and work on those areas. Why on earth would you just accept that everything is fcked and its game over for you bc of what the stars said??? Sorry to be rude but that's dumb af?? You were not put on this earth to be miserable until the day you die, EVERYBODY has difficult placements, if you remain ignorant of it/avoid it, you will continue to live in ignorance and suffer from the same things you always have and not know why.

Astrology makes it possible for you to understand yourself and evolve.

5. I'm not Hindu, can I still worship Gods/Goddesses/chant mantras?

Every single religion is made up. God never said only brown people from the Indian subcontinent can worship me. But that said, do your research and actually be invested in it. I feel like some people approach this in a Buzzfeed-y "Which Disney Princess Am I?😍" type of way which is 🤦🏻‍♀️but religion isn't something to be sampled, if ykwim?

You don't have to attain Guru levels of religious insight/expertise either. Most practicing Hindus probably know very little about their religion and truth be told, Hinduism is soooo vast, expansive, varied and eclectic that people practice it in thousands of different ways across the country with their own unique rituals/customs, so everybody who practices the religion makes it their own, in some ways?

Build an altar if you can, dedicate a certain time of the day and space of your room/house to just prayer. By making something sacred, we feel its divinity permeate our lives. Rituals are a major part of every religion because acting with intention helps us feel like our lives have meaning.

Always chant after you've showered, sit facing east, look at a picture of your deity or visualise them and chant quietly. Most people use prayer beads but you can also just count them on your fingers. Its often said that when you chant, others should not be able to hear you. If you use prayer beads, keep them covered in a box after use. You've energetically charged them with your chanting and its not good to leave them exposed because they'll pick up on other vibrations from the surroundings. Do not chant after you've just eaten!!

Picking a deity is all about intuition. If you don't feel called to anybody, just chill out and keep studying their mythology. You can always chant 'Om'.

I used to chant Buddhist mantras like 'Om mani padme hum' and 'nam myoho renge kyo' and they're not directed to any deity so if you're worried about that, you can always chant non-deity mantras as well.

The purpose of chanting mantras is to keep your mind calm and still. Even if you repeat a certain affirmation in English several hundred times, it has the same effect.

[perzawa]

EVE, PSYCHE, AND

THE BLUEBEARD’S WIFE | 4.1K

OCT 1ST: FIRST TIME

kinktober masterlist

♡ suguru geto x fem! reader

forbidden desires was the nature of young witches such as yourself, and just like the women centuries before you, it was time to indulge. you’d always been safe and traditional with your practices, but after going into a spell rut, you decide forbidden magic can’t be too bad.

♡ warnings/tags! mentions of blood but only a few times, reader is a witch and geto is like… a fake human??, breaking rules, oral (male receiving), riding, reader takes geto’s virginity, top/dom reader and sub geto

“Do you really wanna risk banishment?”

Nobara’s words from a week ago continued to echo in your ears, even after you were kneeling in front of your black altar, preparing for what would be the most dangerous spell you’ve ever performed. Yes, you could and would risk banishment for the only thing you’ve been interested in pursuing for years. The council was a self-righteous group of elders whom no one truly cared to listen to, so why would you? Your spells were yours, and no council could dictate when, where, or if you should practice them.

Her concern was appreciated, but nothing could sway you from this. Every witch knew the frustration of a spell block, that feeling of wondering when (or if) inspiration would ever return. People didn't judge witches too harshly for it, but you held yourself to a higher standard. You could do more than just keep repeating the same spells or, even worse, rely on others' work.

This is more or less how you came in contact with forbidden magic, a path few witches dared to explore—those who had, often met unfortunate fates or had to flee to distant kingdoms. Banishment was a lesser punishment for such an offense, and the worst was execution. Yet, oddly enough, the fear of these punishments didn't haunt you as much as the dread of becoming a dull, uninspired witch who depended on the spells of others. (No shade to other witches who did the same though, of course.) Even if your legacy ended at 22, as long as you were known for something - you’d be grateful either way.

You casually reached for a pin, mustering a deep breath before pricking your finger with it. The pain was fleeting, just enough to make you wince. A tiny bead of crimson welled up on your fingertip and dripped into the vessel you had prepared, staining the herbs you’d already placed in the bowl red. The room remained dim, bathed in the soft glow of tea-light candles which did not help with calming your nerves. Even seasoned witches found themselves getting spooked from time to time and you were no exception.

Still, you pressed on and began your chant once every herb, lock of hair, and drop of blood was in the bowl.

"By moonlight's grace and starlight's dance, in the cauldron's brew, I take my chance. With magic's touch and spells so fine, a person's form, I now design," you chanted six times before striking a match, setting it ablaze, and tossing it into the bowl to complete the spell. You sat quietly on your knees, observing as the assortment of herbs transformed into ash. Forbidden spells, like this one, demanded a greater amount of energy compared to most natural spells and you were beginning to truly feel the effects the moment you finished the incantation. Your head throbbed intensely, causing you to groan in pain.

Despite the pain, an unhinged smile twitched along your cheeks as you realized the spell was now manifesting. The last step was to discard it. Overflowing with excitement, you grabbed the bowl of dark ash and crimson blood and swirled it as you headed to your bathroom. Properly disposing of a spell meant returning it to nature, but you couldn't risk anyone discovering your secret, so you swiftly flushed it down the toilet, offering a quick word of thanks to nature for its help and the materials it provided.

Returning to your room was more of a struggle than you cared to admit. Carefully, you anointed your space and performed a fast protection spell before plopping into bed, completely drained of energy. Regardless of your pounding head or the intense fatigue you were feeling - you didn’t regret a thing.

It wasn’t long before you were fast asleep, unaware of the spirit you’d “created” materializing beside you.

***

The headache that bothered you the previous night was now completely gone as if it’d never been there. Thoughts of the sin you’d committed clouded your mind but you eventually swatted them away, wondering if the spell even worked. Forbidden or not, any spell that came from centuries ago could be a hit or miss. You sat up, yawning and wiping the tears from your eyes as you scanned your room, your head muddled from your deep sleep. However, as soon as your gaze landed on an unfamiliar, raven-haired man, your eyes widened, and a startled scream escaped your dry lips.

"Oh my God!" You scrambled backward, bumping your headboard with a painful thud. A soft moan of discomfort escaped your lips as you reached behind to rub your aching head, brows furrowing in confusion. The man appeared equally startled and afraid, his dark eyes wide as he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

And that was when you realized. Your gaze shifted to the empty bowl on your altar, which had contained your spell - the one you'd flushed down the toilet the previous night, an act that had nearly drained every ounce of your energy. Fear gripped you for a moment, but soon, it transformed into a sense of pride. You lowered your guard, blinking slowly as you pulled yourself out of bed and approached the man – or rather, the creature. People created with witchcraft occupied a gray area; they weren't necessarily human, but they weren't demons either.

As you took a closer look, you noticed he was completely nude, a detail that had escaped your initial observation while you were still in bed. "God, I'm so sorry," you mumbled, hastily grabbing a blanket from your bed to cover his body. He was still silent, his eyes just staring up at you as if he were afraid of you. Though, you understood why he would be. Your eyes roamed over your creation, from his dark hair (the same color you'd envisioned in the spell) to his well-built, pale frame. He was remarkably handsome, a testament to your successful intentions for his appearance.

You knelt, leaning in close to his face in a way that might be considered rude if he were an actual person with social skills. "Can you speak?" you asked, your eyes locked onto his and your arms on either side of his legs.

He was silent for a moment before finally nodding. "Yes. Yes, I can," he replied, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. An inhuman smile stretched across your face, making you look more like a demon than the man sitting in front of you.

"Good. Great, actually," you said softly as you finally pulled away from his face to stand up. You paced around, the reality of your situation finally setting in. But instead of scaring you, it only excited you to no end. "Okay. He’s here and he’s real. He is a person… a person that I made,” you repeated to yourself.

The man nodded slowly, his eyes filled with confusion. It was apparent that he wanted to speak but seemed too hesitant. Sensing his discomfort, you decided to break the ice.

"Hey," you said gently, turning to face him. "You can speak, you know? I'm sure we're both feeling some of the same things right now."

He continued to stare at you for a somewhat uncomfortable moment, causing you to feel a twinge of regret. Spells were forbidden for a reason, primarily to protect both the spellcaster and those around them. There was no inherent good or bad magic; it all depended on the intentions of the person wielding it. In your case, you had no malevolent plans for the being you'd created. So why did everything suddenly feel so eerie? The situation was starting to unnerve you.

"Or, you know, don't speak if..." you began, but he cut you off by shaking his head.

"I'm sorry. I'm just confused, I guess?" he admitted. "I've never been here, and I don't know who you are either."

Your eyebrows raised slightly as you nodded understandingly. I should've introduced myself already, you thought. You proceeded to tell him your name and explained your role as a witch in your coven, hoping it would help him make sense of the situation.

"And, well," you continued, "beyond all that, I created you last night. I'd been working on you for a few weeks, but I only completed the spell yesterday."

You could see him piecing your story together, and finally, understanding began to dawn on his face. When you had performed the spell, you already had a specific appearance in mind for the man, and you were relieved that it seemed to have worked. However, according to the spellbook, it typically took spirits created through magic days or even months to manifest a physical form. There was a considerable amount of energy required for them to materialize in the physical realm fully. This left you wondering how you had been so remarkably successful in bringing the man in front of you into existence.

You had initially anticipated creating a spirit that could speak or interact with you on some level for the first few weeks. Then, if you were lucky, you might have achieved the desired appearance. Good for you, you were lucky. That or you just made a grave mistake that would only reveal itself when it was too late. You huffed out a small breath before flashing a little smile at him. “I haven’t thought about a name for you yet, have I?” You paced around a few more times before deciding on one. “I think I like Suguru. Do you like that too?”

Suguru nodded, causing you to smile. Good. Everything would work out for you because you were an amazing witch who never failed her craft.

As the day passed, the thought of confiding in your best friend about your predicament hadn't even crossed your mind. Instead, you dedicated your time to educating Suguru about the specific things he could and couldn't say or do if you were to release him into society. Since the spell had been cast in your home, his spirit would remain bound there unless you chose to release him willingly. You wanted to be cautious about when and how you would release him if you ever did. Although it took some time for him to adapt, he eventually grasped the concept.

Before you knew it, the sun had vanished, and the room was bathed in the gentle glow of the waning moon, its light sneaking through your partially closed blinds. You and the creature had settled into a cozy conversation over the past few hours with your legs crossed, sporting a faint smile as you hung on to every word he shared. Each word that flowed from his lips held your rapt attention, and you found it impossible to divert your gaze from him.

“So, you risked your freedom to create me?” He asked, his hands idly toying with the hem of the shirt you’d offered. For someone who’d been planning this for weeks, you found yourself unprepared for Suguru’s arrival. Fortunately, you had a collection of shirts and jogging pants, mostly relics from past relationships best left undisturbed. You chewed your lip for a moment before offering a tentative nod, his question echoing the concerns Nobara had raised just a week before.

"Yeah, I did. But I promise, nobody's going to find out, okay? So don't worry," you reassured him, a playful grin spreading across your face. The thought of anyone besides your best friend discovering your secret had you contemplating fleeing your kingdom and coven without a second thought. Your eyes wandered over Suguru's form, pondering the different ways you could test just how "human" this creature might be. Did he need to eat? Did he share any of the same needs and desires as humans? Many experiments would be needed to test him out and see the true depths of your creation.

So it only made sense that you continue to the next course of action. His body was strange to you, while also exciting. There was much you were unsure of and needed to know.

"Hey, Suguru, mind if we experiment a bit?" you finally asked after a few moments of contemplative silence. You didn’t mean to sound so bold, but you weren’t even sure if he had consciousness or feelings. A typical person may feel uncomfortable by that sentence, but there’s never been a documented case of human emotions or morality being replicated through magic.

So while it was alright to be nice to him, you figured you didn’t need to hold back too much.

He tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy before giving a hesitant nod. “Experiment?” He asked, causing your cheeks to burn from how adorable he seemed. Despite your complete size difference, he was so cute to you.

Without responding, you patted a spot on the bed for him to lie on his back. "I'm really curious about you, and I want to try some things, but only if you're alright with it," you reassured. He cautiously laid on his back, the strands of his hair that had once covered his face now exposing his features.

You were careful, your gentle fingers tugging at the shirt you’d given him to wear. Suguru understood what you were communicating and he pulled the fabric over his head until he was half nude. The flesh on his body was legit, you thought. It was flexible, soft, and supple—like a true human. Humming, you began dragging your hand down his chest, pinching at his skin carefully to observe it. “I’m surprised by how… beautiful you are,” you began, fingers still testing him. “I thought I’d fuck up bad and you’d be like, a vengeful demon… or something.”

At that, Suguru laughed.

He raised his brows, allowing you to continue exploring his body. Or was it your body? The details were still unclear. "And who says I'm not?" he quipped. Your gaze shifted to his face, holding eye contact for a moment before a smile spread across your lips.

"You're not. I've been around more than I can count, and I can tell you wouldn't touch me," you teased, moving to a different area of his body. Leaning over him, you began playing with the strands of his jet-black hair—the most impressive property of his body so far. Even after being a witch for so long, there were things even you couldn’t begin to explain. He was perfect. So, so perfect. Your fingers dragged along his scalp, massaging it until you decided you were finished.

Once you pulled away, your eyes were met with a sight you hadn’t expected from an artificial being.

“Suguru,” you said softly, your gaze settled between his legs at his hardened cock. Heat swarmed your cheeks and lower abdomen at the sight, causing you to cough in embarrassment. Suguru blinked at you, unbeknownst to your unusual reaction. Sitting up, he looked down between his legs, following where your gaze was.

"Is this bad? Should I be embarrassed?" he asked, his eyes suddenly widening.

You quickly shook your head, your throat feeling dry. It was almost impossible for you to speak, but you pressed on through your panic. "No, no, definitely not," you said softly, your eyes locking with his, your gaze intense. “I didn’t expect this. I don’t even know how this is possible.” With a shaky hand, you reached over, your fingers pressing against the obvious bulge in his pants.

The groan that fell from his lips was enough to make your cheeks as hot as lava, forcing you to retract your hand quickly as if you’d been burned. “Did that… did that feel good?” You could barely recognize your voice because of the rasp.

He nodded, catching his lip between his teeth as he began to nibble the flesh. An act that was so human to you. His surprisingly normal mannerisms and appearance were still things you weren’t able to find yourself getting used to. Especially the reaction his cock was having to you toying with his body. You sighed, unable to catch yourself before saying something that made you feel sickened by yourself.

“Do you need… help?”

His eyes were lidded now, hands placed on his lap as his cock continued to throb against his pants, just begging for a nice, tight hand or a warm mouth to help it. He whined softly and nodded, his pants tighter now. You weren’t sick and you weren’t some lonely woman who couldn’t get laid under normal circumstances. There’s nothing wrong with this, you thought. Who are you to refuse someone’s need for assistance?

“Okay,” you said. “Okay. Put your… fuck, put your back against the headboard,” you instructed, watching as he obeyed without a second of hesitation. How long had it been since you’d been in bed with someone? A week? Two? If it was taking this long for you to remember, you were sure it’s been longer. A small sigh fell from your lips as you recalled Nobara telling you to get out of the house and date more, but you were too preoccupied with your spells. Now what would she think if she found out you were fucking an artificial human? A literal being created with your life force.

Pushing the questionable morality of the situation out of the way, you focused on one thing—helping him.

With one swift motion, you’d pulled his pants down to hang at his ankles, his throbbing cock smacking against the hem of his shirt. You huffed out a small breath, even more impressed by the sheer size of him, causing you to squirm on the bed.

He was big. When you saw him earlier, you obviously didn’t just stand there staring at his soft cock, but there was such an astounding difference between now and then that you were gaping. His tip was an angry red, white beads of precum pooling at the head and dripping down his tan shaft. The lewd image caused you to swallow, lubricating your very dry throat.

His hips bucked expectantly as you leaned down, kissing his head first. The salty precum clung to your bottom lip, sticky but thin as you opened your mouth, lowering your warmth onto his needy dick. Your tongue slid down his shaft as he hit the back of your throat, resulting in you gagging. Your hand found itself on his base as you pulled yourself up a little, your tongue swirling around his slit as your hand stroked him.

Suguru hissed, his rough hands finding solace in your hair as he gripped a little too close to your scalp. You winced in pain but endured it, bobbing your head along his impressive length and using the sounds of his groans to motivate yourself further. You finally pulled away after moments of choking, saliva dripping down your mouth and chin. Your eyes narrowed at his cock as you licked his essence from your lips, surprise evident in your features. He didn’t taste normal in the slightest. Whereas most men were salty and bitter, he was sweet and mildly acidic—a taste you genuinely enjoyed. “Fuck, you taste good,” you said to yourself, your hand wrapping itself around his base again. “How’s that even possible, huh?”

“Please don’t stop,” he begged, his hips thrusting into the air again as you stroked his cock slowly, focused on milking him. “Feels like I’m gonna… Just feels so good,” he rasped, his eyes tightly shut as he basked in the pleasure of your soft hand against his hot, heavy cock.

You nodded, continuing to use your saliva to lubricate his cock. “You’re gonna cum, Suguru. That's what that feeling is,” you explained, a prideful smile finding itself on your lips as you finally brought him over the edge, watching as hot spurts of white stained your hand and his shirt. Suguru panted, his cock twitching before falling onto his covered stomach. His lidded eyes followed the sight of your tongue lapping his cum from your hand. He twitched again.

By now, you were already squirming, the heel of your foot placed against your clit as you began to grind for any amount of friction possible. Little mewls escaped your mouth but you were too lost in the feeling to get embarrassed. Suguru’s cock began to grow in size once again from watching you, his hands squeezing around his own length to replicate what you’d done to him.

“You want more?” Your hands were easing your own pants off now until you were in your plain, white panties. There was an evident wet spot that sent a shiver down Suguru’s spine the longer he looked at it. When you were creating him, it wasn’t like the thought of sex taking place didn’t pop up in your head a few times, but you trusted yourself enough to not take things in that direction.

Despite feeling almost disgusted by yourself, the familiar heat in your stomach was demanding something more.

“Please? I do want more. I don’t know what I want, but…” he trailed off, his hands still wrapped tight around his hard cock as he trailed from your eyes, back to the print of your pussy. It was almost instinct the way Suguru craved to feel you around him without any actual knowledge of anatomy or sex.

You nodded and straddled him, no reluctance in your actions. Gulping, you pulled your soaked panties to the side, not caring that you hadn’t even prepped yourself properly. All you craved was the ache to be soothed by the big cock you’d enjoyed sucking so much. Slowly, your body dropped down to his slicked cock, the stretch enough to make you wince but you still took it until he was completely buried to your hilt.

Suguru’s hands were on your hips now, tightening as you rolled your hips. Your pussy was twitching around him, grateful to have a cock buried deep after what felt like years without one. It stung, and his size was almost uncomfortable—but you still began to move yourself on top of him. Little moans were falling from your lips as you slowly bounced, your head buried in the crease of his neck, realizing he was allowing you to take complete control due to his ignorance. “Feelin’ good? Hm, ‘Guru?” You asked, your voice a mere whisper.

“So good… feels so tight and hot,” he cried out, praising the way you were sucking him in deep. Your pussy was so familiar with him even though this was only the first time your bodies have met. You were clenching around him tightly, sucking him in and then letting him slip out repeatedly.

“I know,” you gasped, rocking yourself on him before bouncing quicker than before. There was a slight burn in your thighs but it didn’t matter compared to the delicious feeling of his cock dragging along your wet, aching walls. With shaky hands, you gripped his black strands of hair, pressing little kisses to his sweaty neck in the process.

Though you were both moving a little awkwardly, he was still spurring you on. Each and every groan, grunt, and thrust was causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. “S-Suguru,” you called, pulling away from the assault on his hair to reach for his hands. You pulled his thick fingers near your clit, assisting him in getting you off. “Feels good when you touch girls right here,” you explained, locking eyes with him.

“Like this?” he asked, his fingers moving in expert circles. His fingers dragged along your clit vertically before switching to tight circles again, using your own slick to lubricate your button. The act was too much and your body knew that, making you respond by convulsing as your stomach filled with heat once again.

“Fuck, yes, just like that.” Your pussy began to tighten impossibly tight as you finally came hard, coating his tan shaft in your clear, sticky release. Suguru followed suit, burying his head in your neck as he began humping into the air like a dog. His skilled fingers never stopped their assault on your engorged clit, even after your powerful climax.

Suguru whined as his cock throbbed deep inside, shooting thick ropes of cum into your waiting, unprotected womb. The two of you were left shaking, huffing messes, your arms wrapped around his neck and his fingers hovering over your wet cunt.

After moments of silence, you finally cleared your throat, pulling away from his neck. There were no regrets to be had. Not from the beginning when you were creating him and not even when you were cumming around his cock.

You wished for something something new. Something different. Something forbidden.

And you got it.

[sereniv]

tbh the best way to be informed about farming practices is to just sit back and listen and watch farmers in their natural habitat like in videos and forums. You cant ask, you just have to lurk. Because once you ask a lot of times they bend the truth to seem more appealing.

You ask a farmer about what the unhealthy feed that is given to cows, and they'll deny it and say the cows only get healthy feed because otherwise the milk or meat would taste bad or whatever

but you just watch videos or go into forums and listen and watch and suddenly they show freely them giving their cows literally left over candy like a 3 fist sized ball of candy

same with cutting wings of bees and the animal abuse that happens etc etc

I dont hate farmers, but i know that 1. a lot of the stuff that happens has to be taught and normalized

and 2. regardless of it being normalized they still recognize its bad enough to lie or skew the information sometimes

Like theres literally a video compiled where one farmer will defend something and say its necessary while another one denies it even happens.

Because thats what people do when theres abuse happening. Either "This is just how things have to be" "Its necessary" "Its not my fault " "They dont feel" or "I dont do that" "We dont do that" "They are happy"

Anyone who knows abuse and people who profit from capitalism as a system, will easily recognize this.

Again, anyone who follows me knows my aim is to help farmers transition to plant based food farming where possible. To provide them with money and resources and education to do so

And to rewild the extra land (and of course #LandBack) etc etc

But you just cant trust someone at face who profits off of the use of a sentient being. Be them human or non human animals

Because their livelihood literally depends on that sentient being.

Idk its just every time i hear "that doesnt happen" and then see literally from the farmers mouth that it happens bc they arent in a defensive position, just reminds me how stupid this whole game is ppl are playing

If youre truly anti capitalist and a leftist then stop acting like a conservative capitalist and actually take this topic seriously

And as always, i will be chanting this when im fucking dead because its so important to me: "AS FAR AS IS POSSIBLE AND PRACTICAL (and necessary) "

Meaning we all should be constantly doing the best we can do, and the best you can do can change over time and is going to be different from everyone else

I add necessary because only you can define what is nescessary for you. 2 people from the same culture , same religion, same everything, can have 2 different views of what is nescessary for themselves to happy, healthy, and comfortable

ANNYYWAAAAY

Spend time in a farmers forum and be critical. Remember that their livelihood depends on the usage of an animal. And remember that not just the wellbeing of an animal matters, but so does the farmers livelihood

And that we should be working towards helping the farmer, AND the animal. Because the industry doesnt just affect farmer and animal. It affects the communities who live near the farms and slaughterhouses and it affects the environment in devestating ways, to name a few

[lookingforlia]

Demon Tsukishima

Part-1

Warnings : dark magick

She sat in the middle of a protection circle , muttering a chant quietly in her breathy tone . Drops of sweat run down the nape of her neck . A lit candle in her dark room lighting up her skin into a beautiful honey shade, she looked tired with the lack of sleep yet her eyes were decorated with pinkish eyebags .

The candle flickered.

"State your business ." A deep voice enteruppted the silence of the room . Ringing her off her guard as If a loud alarm has been set off. She squinted her eyes open glancing at the figure resting peacefully on the floor .

" Are you a demon ? "

"I'm pretty sure you called for one. "

She took a few seconds to register that in her mind as she stares at him in alarm and curiosity.

"I know I'm handsome but your silence is making me uncomfortable." He talked as if he was bored to even be in her presence. But of course she had no regards for it. Not when she finally summoned a demon .

She gulps unknowingly not really being able to form direct words she sits there gaping at the boy in silence .

They read into each other's eyes untill the awkwardness of the air turns into a strange comfort .

"You've never summoned one before ?" He inquired , shattering the peaceful silence between them making her realize she's been staring at him for a few seconds too long .

Too long for it to just be curiosity.

"No , this is my first time. " she replied . An amuse making it's way into her facial expressions.

"Yeah you're making that very obvious. " He makes another snarky remark without breaking the eye contact . It was a lie if he said he wasnt amused either . It's not everyday he meets a human who looks him in the eye .

"State your business ." He said , this time , voice turning the atmosphere of the room into a slightly colder one.

"I need you help ." She replies without delays . A certain desparation in her voice . And ofcourse it didn't go unnoticed by the demon boy .

"I hope you know the costs ." He hummns.

"I'm aware ." She replies instantly but then , hesitates before speaking again , " but can you do it ? "

A histericall laughter fills the room . "I am a demon , are you actually asking me that ? "

" I asked because it is something impossible ."

He stares at her for another few seconds trying to process her words . And suddenly it hits . " It's bringing back the dead isn't it ? "

She was speechless at his accuracy ." Yes ." She confirms . " But can you do that ? Is it possible ? "

Although his expressions changed he still covered a smirk , " What do you think ? "

"I think only god can do it , but , he hasn't been answering my prayers and cries . So I called for someone who might ."

Desperation ,

That's a very common trait of the people who usually make deals with the devil ,

They sell out their most important possession out of that desperation. And when they do it , they don't consider what they're loosing could also be very important .

Because when you posess something precious , you dont realize it's value until you loose it. And once do , it's most likely too late.

"You would have to pay a bigger prize ."

"It's my soul right ? . . I'm willing. " The words come out as a second nature .

It kinda takes the demon boy aback for a second because he's never met some so aware and still so willing to jump into the pits of fire by their own will. It's not brave , It's stupid , its impulsive , and they would regret it.

They always do.

"It might take a little bit more than your soul. " He pulls our a coin from his pockets playing with it on his fingers .

"What is that ? "

"Depends ," He mumbles . "On what's the most precious possession you have to offer."

She lets her mind wander for a moment for all the possible things she could value after throwing her life away. But there was nothing that came around her mind. Because she already threw her life away , what can still be precious to you when you know you're gonna extinct anyway . What could she still experience when she won't be even allowed to have it the moment she signs her life away ? Is there anything to loose ?

"I would do whatever you ask me to ," she declares ,

stupidly .

Again , giving herself up so easily .

The demon boy's lips curve upward ."So whom are we resurrecting? " He questions , still the coin between his fingers .

"Sugawara koushi . " The name bounces off her lips like a forgotten poem.

"Lost love ? " He chuckles mockingly the sound echoing from his throat .

He couldn't help but mock her , she's the stupidest type , the type to make disitions based on her emotions , native enough to let her emotions control her. Hurt her or ever kill her .

She was the type to sell her soul for others , selflessly , without thinking twice ,

And she was the type to regret it when the happy times return back into her life and tries to change the deal.

She was the type he hated the most.

"Ex boyfriend ? "

"No, we never dated , " she replies pausing a bit ."I never got the chance to tell him I loved him. "

"I would need his memories , " he speaks with a smirk painted in his face all the way up to his eyes.

"What ? "

"He wouldn't remember you , he wouldn't remember dying , as if the time went back , and he never met you , " the boy observed her reaction .

"It's okay , it's fine with me ." She looks up with her eyes stronger again . "It's fine as long as he's alive. " the desparation still ringing in her  voice .

"Alright then ," he tosses the coin in the air and it falls right into the plan of his hand . His eyes glows red , illuminating the dark room brighter than the candle itself .

" What is your name ? " He asked . his voice echoed off walls of the room .

"Ayla Hamasaki ." She spoke , knowing very well that whatever she was getting herself into is gonna be agonizing .

it was gonna be the end of her ,

And she knew that .

He hoped she did. 

"I'm Tsukishima kei . And I hope we have a fair deal now ."

Ayla looked death right in it's eyes as she bored into Kei's .

She was sure of herself.

Selflessly , something that should be stated as stupidness ,

She comfortablely held onto the newfound hope she met in the darkest pits of hell , intertwining fingers with death on the other hand.

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, Books, 12: An eclectic library of dusty tomes, fictional textbooks, pocketbooks, paperbacks, hardcovers, booklets, leaflets and magical manuals. Paper leaves and the binding surrounding them can help define a character, kick off a subplot, fuel a fetch quest or simply serve as a generic macguffin. Commonly seen in video games such as Baldur’s Gate, Neverwinter Nights, World of Warcraft and Skyrim, book items are a way to subtly world build while still handing out sellable loot. A wizard has a spellbook, a cleric has a holy text and now you have a trinket list.

Anti-dictionary: A huge, leather-wrapped old book with no title, containing thousands of words along with their definitions in the common tongue. Each time it is perused, the reader forgets one random word, and it appears in the dictionary as a new entry.

An Arbiter's Log: A collection of annotated records of a member of the Arbiter's Guild: the nonpartisan body which referees official duels. The Arbiter in question, one Fralina Dailina Tailor Livii, from Empereoux, governed 221 duels over a career of 30 years in six countries. Her records, put down with both attention to detail and biting wit, serve as a remarkable recent history of dueling.

A collection of maps of the nearby provinces bound in an ebony cover.

Dhol Chants: An aged wood bound book without markings or a title on its exterior. Knowledgeable PC's will notice that an ink stamped marking on the inner cover shows that this book used to belong to the Miskatonic University's library. The object is not just old...it's ancient. The words inside are arranged into stanzas, but the language... It is the tongue of the lumbering dholes of the distant Vale of Pnath, where worlds collide and time does not exist. The letters form meaningless phrases, but if read aloud, somehow become understandable.

An apocryphal holy text used by an infamous heretical sect of Random Evil Domain.

Tome of Eternal Darkness: A mysterious book that rests cradled in what appears to be a leathery human hand. The tome is bound in human skin and intricately decorated with shrunken bones. The sigil of the God of Chaos is carved into the tome's clasp. The object beckons and yearns to be possessed and rewards those who truly grasp its pages with a cursed, short life of hysterical dementia. Its pages are written in a maddening, indecipherable scrawl. Only a randomly select few are able to read it, no amount of cryptography or magic can decode it. These special few that can read the tome do so regardless of their native language or literacy level. An uneducated, illiterate child slave may be able to understand its contents perfectly well, while a centuries old, elven polyglot archwizard may spend a lifetime failing to discern a single sentence.

A neatly stacked arrangement of professionally bound and labelled debtors’ records. Minimal indication is given as to the nature of the debts. Knowledgeable PC’s will be able to recognize some of the names or addresses within the book as persons or locations from the nearest large city.

Advanced Human Necrosplicing: A step by step process for magically combing human beings with body parts of beasts, monsters, and magical beings. Some of the results may not be proven to be effective and most subjects will die within seconds of being combined. That’s apparently not a barrier though as the magus was attempting to wed the schools of transmutation and necromancy together by creating augmenting humanoids with the physical traits of animals then raise the chimeric aberrations as particularly nasty undead.

A small sketchbook with various poorly executed drawings of everyday things, places, and people. The artist made small improvements as time went on, but even the very last page isn’t really that good.

A book consisting of pieces of unweatherd, thick parchment, lined by a thin string of gold woven into the paper. To anyone who cannot read magic, they are always blank and featureless. However, someone who can read magical notation or cast spells, the tome contains a multitude of information of the nature of divine magical arts. Descriptions of spells that clerics, paladins druids and other casters who channel their arcane power from divine or primal sources are listed here in great detail.

—Click Here to be directed to the Hotlinks To All Tables post, which provides (As you might have guessed) convenient links to all of the loot and resource tables this blog has.

—Click Here for additional Book Descriptions to give these objects even more personality.

—Keep reading for 90 more books.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

Anti-dictionary: A huge, leather-wrapped old book with no title, containing thousands of words along with their definitions in the common tongue. Each time it is perused, the reader forgets one random word, and it appears in the dictionary as a new entry.

An Arbiter's Log: A collection of annotated records of a member of the Arbiter's Guild: the nonpartisan body which referees official duels. The Arbiter in question, one Fralina Dailina Tailor Livii, from Empereoux, governed 221 duels over a career of 30 years in six countries. Her records, put down with both attention to detail and biting wit, serve as a remarkable recent history of dueling.

A collection of maps of the nearby provinces bound in an ebony cover.

Dhol Chants: An aged wood bound book without markings or a title on its exterior. Knowledgeable PC's will notice that an ink stamped marking on the inner cover shows that this book used to belong to the Miskatonic University's library. The object is not just old...it's ancient. The words inside are arranged into stanzas, but the language... It is the tongue of the lumbering dholes of the distant Vale of Pnath, where worlds collide and time does not exist. The letters form meaningless phrases, but if read aloud, somehow become understandable.

An apocryphal holy text used by an infamous heretical sect of Random Evil Domain.

Tome of Eternal Darkness: A mysterious book that rests cradled in what appears to be a leathery human hand. The tome is bound in human skin and intricately decorated with shrunken bones. The sigil of the God of Chaos is carved into the tome's clasp. The object beckons and yearns to be possessed and rewards those who truly grasp its pages with a cursed, short life of hysterical dementia. Its pages are written in a maddening, indecipherable scrawl. Only a randomly select few are able to read it, no amount of cryptography or magic can decode it. These special few that can read the tome do so regardless of their native language or literacy level. An uneducated, illiterate child slave may be able to understand its contents perfectly well, while a centuries old, elven polyglot archwizard may spend a lifetime failing to discern a single sentence.

A neatly stacked arrangement of professionally bound and labelled debtors’ records. Minimal indication is given as to the nature of the debts. Knowledgeable PC’s will be able to recognize some of the names or addresses within the book as persons or locations from the nearest large city.

Advanced Human Necrosplicing: A step by step process for magically combing human beings with body parts of beasts, monsters, and magical beings. Some of the results may not be proven to be effective and most subjects will die within seconds of being combined. That’s apparently not a barrier though as the magus was attempting to wed the schools of transmutation and necromancy together by creating augmenting humanoids with the physical traits of animals then raise the chimeric aberrations as particularly nasty undead.

A small sketchbook with various poorly executed drawings of everyday things, places, and people. The artist made small improvements as time went on, but even the very last page isn’t really that good.

A book consisting of pieces of unweatherd, thick parchment, lined by a thin string of gold woven into the paper. To anyone who cannot read magic, they are always blank and featureless. However, someone who can read magical notation or cast spells, the tome contains a multitude of information of the nature of divine magical arts. Descriptions of spells that clerics, paladins druids and other casters who channel their arcane power from divine or primal sources are listed here in great detail.

Four Things You Should Know About Bad People: A book that appears at first to be a thriller about three gang lords trying to outfox each other quickly evolves into a romantic comedy, as each falls in love with a complete idiot that foils their schemes unknowingly and by accident. Jumping between their perspectives, the reader learns the things that set the idiots apart from the genius criminals are matters of the heart, not the mind. The morals of the story teach the reader something fundamental about being alive, and leaves them happier and wiser.

The Fey; Creatures of Endless Mischief: A simple, leather-bound book with seemingly no author; the penmanship has an odd style unlike any academic the reader has ever read or seen before. The volume is not always at the last place is was left, sometimes moving a few feet to a new location or disappearing for days at a time only to reappear somewhere incredible obvious. When it is opened, the reader goes into a dreamlike trance for 1d4 hours (Or until he is touched, yelled at or suffers damage) while he stares at the book’s pages.

Thus Spoke Asmodeus: A comprehensive guide to devilology, dealing with the basic principles of conjuration from the lower planes, subchapters about ritual preparation (Attire, material components, time of abstinence to ensure success), probability of survival, the ethics of human sacrifice to the dark lord, and much else. It was written by Sauthes The Desecrator.

On the habitat, diet and behavior of mimics by Eldaskri the Unnoticed: A book, hard-bound in richly lacquered wood with brass hasps and lock. Printed along the spine in golden script is the title. The book is actually an intelligent mimic that will give lectures about mimic behavior, history and biology once bribed with food.

The Tome of Anguish: A wizard’s spellbook bound in black velvet. A single crystal tear falling from an eye carved from ivory and ruby adorns the center of the front cover. The pages are vellum. The spells inside inflict mental and emotional pain. Each spell can only be learned by shedding tears onto the page from feeling the type of pain described by the spell.

The Gauntlet: A fictional tale of a benevolent wizard who helped all those who came to him, no matter how insignificant the person or task. However, the constant frivolous and inane requests eventually started to drive him crazy. To combat this he, surrounded his tower with "The Gauntlet" to keep out all but the most determined and desperate who actually needed his help. The Gauntlet was an ever changing maze of traps, puzzles, & challenges designed to frustrate and dissuade most people by means of painful (Though nonlethal) injury, humiliating defeats or exhaustion from the ever-shifting mazes.

How to Succeed in Magic Without Really Trying: A book of the self-help style penned by an unknown author. It describes the journey of a wizard from apprentice to master. They never actually worked for their success and just always happened to be in the right place at the right time. Goes into detail on the important of knowing people in high places.

A gold banded spellbook set with obsidian and bloodstone gems, all the pages ruined by water.

A detailed diary of a local historian.

Golden Chains: A notable financial guide providing in-depth, professional explanations of borrowing, investing, saving advice, experienced market theory and a history of the standard gold coin. Most especially, it concerns how to best deal with fickle dwarven banks.

A book of collected royal decrees bound in the hide of a hydra.

A dog-eared copy of Man of Her Dreams, a novel by Simone Vertices, in which the heroine falls in love with a man from her own dreams and quests through the Dreamlands to bring him into reality. Halfway through, a scrap of paper serves as a bookmark; upon it is written “Meet me at the Gilded Graveyard, north entrance, midnight. Bring shovel.”

A book of historical knowledge that seems to detail an epoch approximately 2,000 years from the present and has been rather clumsily translated into Common. A handful of current powers and states are still vaguely visible in this future time but have become barely recognizable. This is either a work of artful science fiction or a translation from an authentic future history procured via time travel.

Great Escapes: A book banned in prisons, jails, and places of holding as a security risk, the text is full of tales of daring and often successful prison escapes, some of them from high security prisons that were seemingly totally escape-proof. It is thought that a few copies have been smuggled into prison and are providing secret entertainment for prisoners.

A Discerning Eye Regarding the Fine Arts of Gantref y Cwaelod, Gelig ap Hlannog, and Benmaenmavr; One's Studies of the Forms, One's Time Thereof, One's Difficulties and Arduous Physical Trials - A Complete Treatise: A hefty tome filled with purple prose and absolutely no art or diagrams, the text laboriously catalogues and attempts to describe fine art, music, and culture from a set of kingdoms that have literally sunken beneath the waves for hundreds of years by the time of the author. The author claims to have experienced the original works firsthand, but gives no explanation for how that was possible. Despite being titled 'A Complete Treatise', the book is maddeningly incomplete and spotty, and describes works of art that have been seen by no other living person. The author may or may not still be alive, having disappeared from the public eye some time ago.

Senate Report: A plainly bound book with a rather uninteresting title, but in fact it is a secret fact-file created by the secret service of one country about 30 Politicians of another country. Compiled from both public sources and the reports of secret agents, it contains their political views, strengths, weaknesses, secret affairs and how corrupt and bribable each one is. The sort of book that would be very useful both for blackmail and for discovering the weaknesses of the listed politicians, and is the sort of book that an aspiring politician would pay a band of adventurers highly to recover, by force if need be.

How To Hunt The Undead Without Getting Yourself Killed: This book has sections on all kinds of Undead, from the True Vampires and the exotic Bandage Beasts, to the metal plated Ironbones the burning issue of the Urn Beast and many more. Each section explains the strengths and weaknesses of a different kind of Undead and how to successfully kill it, or at least banish it if killing it is not physically possible. It warns against looting the Funeral Gold and Grave Silver often found with some types of Undead, as this can bring bad luck or even worse to the taker.

A History of Sunreturn Customs through the Ages: A written history of the winter celebrations of various religions, it shows how people have fun at the darkest, coldest times of the year, and has plenty of suggestions for how to throw parties in tight quarters with limited resources. The book has a chapter on Mythical Gift Bringers, including Father Olaf and his famous Sleigh of the Storm.

Shorthalt's Journal of Awful: A little black book inscribed with scrawlings of horrific poems. There are also bizarre, childish drawings of humanoids doing various acts of vile behavior.

An ornately illustrated book of prayers, consecrated to the specific local God of Random Domain.

Slaying Dragons: A hefty tome wrapped in leather created from the skin of a black dragon, Slaying Dragons presents impassioned reasons and techniques for hunting some of the most deadly creatures in all creation. It is somewhat ironic, however, that proclaimed dragon hater and the author of this tome, one Cevinar of the Saffron Robes, died a very public death on the claws of a red wyrm some eighty years ago. Despite his untimely demise the wizard was thorough in his research, his surviving work being a testament to that.

Unaussprechlichen Kulten: A book bound in heavy leather with iron hasps that contains information on cults that worship pre-human deities such as Ghatanothoa and includes hieroglyphs relating to the latter. There is also information on more recent cults including that of Bran Mak Morn, The Dark Man. It is from this work that the tale of the doomed heretic T'yog is most commonly sourced. The copy contains detailed descriptions of dark rituals and occult practices that in this day and age are considered particularly malevolent. Knowledgeable PC’s can tell that the book is a fairly decent translation from the original text (The translated title is Nameless Cults), which makes the knowledge it reveals all the more nauseating. An excerpt of one of the pages reads as follows; "If one wants to use the ritual of seven desecrated graves, brought by the horrible Ikvabe, rising the six serving undead, you will need to create a wand from oak or maple. The carvings on it should be made with an iron knife soaked in the blood of a fallen woman and the sperm of a sorcerer. While placing the signs, one should chant the following: "Fayn Eho Azarak Soh Nar Zkmelak Ole Ole Barrabas Ole Ole Hushitas", while holding the wand of the north.

A large book with a leather cover protecting hundreds of blank pages. It remains covered in dust no matter how often it is cleaned.

Campfire Cooking: 101 Recipes for the Hungry Adventurer: A simple cookbook with vibrant images of wildlife that identifies edible plants, poisonous plants, and more.

Cryptography, Iconography, Symbology, and More: A heavy, thick tome filled with riddles, symbols, and theories on their meanings and how one might weave or unravel them.

Evelyn's Encyclopedia of Enigmatic Entities: A thick, well-worn book that comes with a leather carrying pouch. The pages of this book contain diagrams and detailed information on all sorts of illusive figures from across the Prime Material Plane.

Grifting 101: A curious pamphlet that has a pyramid emblazoned across the front of it and at first glance appears to be the ramblings of a religious fanatic. Closer investigation reveals a cypher that unlocks the hidden meaning within the text.

How to Spot an Assassin; A Critical Analysis: A short manual authored by the former bodyguard of powerful noble that was targeted for assassination a number of times - each of which was thwarted. The text has useful information on how to properly guard an individual as well as how to spot traps, poisons, hidden weapons and body language of assassin’s trying to blend in.

Mordenkainen's Common to Primordial Dictionary: A book with a finely crafted leather binding with exceptionally thin-yet-sturdy pages. It is a well-renowned linguistic reference work authored by the Mordenkainen. The text allows the reader to translate common into primordial and back again as well as apply the subtle inflections and accent characters for the regional dialects of Auran, Auquan, Ignan and Terran.

Osbourne's Guide to Heavy Metallurgy: A large tome with a stark black cover bearing the disembodied head of a bat embossed into it. Its bindings of a red steel and the text relates to all things metal.

Swords and Gourds: A large well folded pamphlet that was once distributed by militias amongst small farming communities to help locals better defend themselves. It outlines simple straightforward safety measures that men and women with no formal military training can use to defend their homestead or village from packs or wolves, groups of bandits or a small goblin tribe. Most of the advice boils down to creating a big show of strength and focusing on a big group armed with slings, torches and pitchforks to cause the invaders to believe that it’s not worthwhile to attack, thus saving the defends from the brutalities of actual combat.

The Art of the Quickdraw; How to Shoot First and Ask Questions Later: A book of battle tactics that implores the reader to focus on making the first strike in combat. The text concurs that the majority of fights a lone man or band of adventures will be involved in are small skirmishes, no more than 6-18 seconds long from the fight blow to the last. In these cases, getting your first blow in before the enemy and making it count is the difference between sleeping well that night or sleeping forever.  

The Village Bike: A small book with the image of a lotus flower on its cover, this tome is an anthology of debaucherous romance stories that go into rather explicit detail.

Top Ten Lockpicking Secrets: A small, silver leather-bound book that can easily be stashed in the inner pocket of one's garb. The foreword to this book simply reads: "A thief's best friend."

A Rogue's Guide to Rooftop Running: A thin, twine bound set of papers, this volume instructs the reader on specific maneuvers that entail unorthodox movement including rolls, vaults, and landings.

Baldur's Gate Boxing Program: A short pamphlet with seven different exercises to help a reader improve their physical strength. These techniques do not require equipment or a partner and seems to be aimed at those who travel frequently or lack the financial resources of more seasoned brawlers.

A pocket instruction manual depicting bizarre fighting stances of leaping, spinning and holding weapons by the wrong end.

An aged inquisitor’s handbook whose yellow pages are held between the heavy silver covers. The pages hold anatomy diagrams of various demons along with instructions on dispatching them.

A large, heavy book bound in scarlet leather. Inside it lists and illustrates all the common planar beings along with their reward preferences and favoured negotiation styles. It would be extremely useful for summoners who routinely call forth and bind or ally themselves with planar creatures.    

Dark Secrets Revealed by the Opening Eye: A book of unintelligible prophecies spoken by a mystic from the Roof of the World Mountains and written down by one of her disciples. The visionary text is covered in a yak pelt.

Law and Duty: A book of morality bound in purple leather with two clasped hands in gold leaf on the front cover. The text outlines the rules and behaviours for the faithful followers of Conn the Lawgiver.

Travels in the Southern Lands: A book bound in black leather embossed with gold merchant’s scales. The text is a travelogue with detailed maps of trade routes and information on foreign markets written by noted explorer and merchant Gosten Almar.

The Courage of Sir Ector: A book bound in red leather with gold tooling and edges. Written by Vinek Bezmer the text is the illuminated life story of the famous paladin.

An illustrated manual covered in chainmail entitled “Beginner’s Guide to Polearm Fighting”.

Dangerous Beasts of Kjarran: A bestiary bound in krenshar fur and held closed with clasp made from its teeth. The text focuses on monsters who commonly manifest supernatural abilities.

Wyrms of the Northlands: A tome bound in white dragonskin with a black ribbon marker with wyrmling talon dangling on the end. It is an illustrated who’s who of notorious dragons.

A thaumaturgist’s grimoire bound in green demonskin and marked with eldritch symbols. It contains the true names of certain minor demons and the arcane instructions on how to contact other planes, dismissing outsiders and binding lesser demons.

An elvish lexicon with a green velvet cover with mithral tooling and inlaid gemstone cover.

Fists of Iron: A martial arts treatise with copious illustrations, handwritten on a very long scroll written by Leaping Mantis.

A sea-green paperback novel with gold lettering entitled “The Trench”. The illustrated manuscript, tells tall tales of a mighty Triton ruler and his exploits beneath the waves.

A small red volume, that looks like it was mass produced with cheap printing methods. Entitled “The Little Tome Of Charms” the books content is a series of worthless nonsense spells that wouldn’t be useful even if they worked in the first place.

A small leather case with gold trimmings. The case protects a small deck of cards which bear sumptuous illustrations of various humanoid creatures engaged in lewd acts. The face cards of the suits move slightly and the jokers wink at you when you look through the cards.

A small book, very thick but only as wide as a grown adult’s hand. It is simply bound and filled with esoteric philosophy and explanations of the movements of the heavens, in complex verse.

A small brown book, no larger than a man’s hand but as thick as a wrist, with the word “Ecchli” on the cover. The pages are filled with tiny, unreadable words tightly compacted together. There is an aura of knowledge about the book, but it is also clear that great effort will be required to unlock its secrets.

Anzil and Lightning: A stone bound tome of Dwarvish history, written in the stoutfolk’s native tongue. The book explains about the formation of the Dwarven Kingdom and the differences between the various Dwarvenkin.

A black leather notebook filled with half-finished poems.

A blank book that when written in, causes the words to be spoken out loud.

A long book full of elven advice, most of which amounts to “stay the course and outlive the problem”.

A bundle of religious texts consisting of thick ivory parchments wound onto black bronze scroll rods tipped with golden ferrules studded with amber and coral, all tied with scarlet ribbons. All of the topics address the divine concept of Random Domain in one way or another.

The Necronomicon: An eerie book wrapped in a rough leather, akin to human skin. The front of the tome even has a stretched human-like face on it, warped in an expression of eternal horror. Inside its pages, are illustrations of fiendish monsters, impossible aberrations and disgusting warpings of flesh and bone. Its contents are filled with incantations, ramblings and grave warnings. While a chronicle of dark things witnessed by the author, the tome itself has a dark surprise; it’s very much alive...

A small spellbook, which is little more than a collection of pages bound with willow bark. It a handful of pages are covered in rituals and notations in no known language and bearers who have it in their possession, swear it whispers from time to time, as quiet as wind rustling a willow-tree.

A recipe book filled with numerous ways to prepare the flesh and organs of various species, focusing on children and adolescents. Additional notes in a newer hand remark on changes to each recipe.

The Tome of Strahd: A book bound in a thick leather cover with steel hinges and fastenings containing brittle parchment pages. The tome is an ancient work penned by Strahd von Zarovich, the vampiric dark lord of the valley of Barovia and is the tragic tale of how he came to his fallen state. Most of the book is written in the curious shorthand that only Strahd employs. Stains and age have made most of the work illegible, but several paragraphs remain intact.

A small travel diary with a memoir that tells the story of a terrible storm that lasted for a week. It was written by the youngest cabin boy aboard the vessel and is heavily water-damaged.

A ship's log describing a slow descent into madness by the crew.

A book with several self-portraits of one of the PC's that they don't remember making.

A book of dried flowers with botanical information about them. Each time it is opened, the book smells of a different flower inside.

A large bundle of rough thick pages held together by reindeer sinew. They describe edible parts of beats found in artic climate.  

A tiny book made of exquisite porcelain reliefs, bound in thick quilted padded.

Enchiridion of the Unusual: A book whose cover is blood red, the title in silver its only ornamentation. No gilt, no gold leaf, just simple sturdy paper bound with thread. The pages, however, are a wonder: arcane formulae and diagrams in a dozen unrecognizable languages. It is a spellbook. It is a laboratory log. It is a treatise on war machines. It is a study on dragons. And a dissertation on a dozen other unimaginable things.

The Complete Draconic Lexicon: A sizable dictionary is for the Draconic language including detailed etymology, all written in flourishing script. A creature that can read Common may communicate with a creature in draconic using this book at a rate of one word per minute, even if they spoke no draconic at all.

A tattered, pocket sized travel notebook, binding a collection of withered and illegible pages. A thorough investigation will reveal a single line of unmarred text near the back of the book that reads “The king has demanded eternal life, though I doubt he is willing to accept the toll of blood and earth it demands.”

The Pattern Of The Ages: An oddly compelling tome outlining a dualistic world between two warring deities. Its descriptions of magic are highly elemental and it suggests a cyclical pattern to history. It warns of thirteen powerful servants of the evil deity from a more advanced era who are sealed away and must not be released. Could this be accurate, or is it just a fantasy?

A battered leather cover journal that rejects any ink; only fiendish ichor seems to seep into the pages.

A beginners guidebook to vile necromancy and enchantment spells entitled “How to make friends and influence people”

The Utterings of Hermaeus the Wise: A bound collection of the "words" eschewed by the late wizard Hermaeus the Wise, collected by his former apprentice. At the time, Hermaeus had attempted to gaze deep into the heart of the Elemental Chaos, to gain wisdom and insight into the nature of the universe. Unfortunately, Hermaeus' mind quickly unraveled at the sight of the place, and though his apprentice attempted to save him, the wizard died shortly after the attempt. It's said that the text is, to the apprentice's best efforts, a copy of the exact sounds that Hermaeus produced (Though few could be realistically interpreted as spoken language of any kind), with some pictograms indicating the movements of the wizard's body as he made these sounds. Strangely, readers of this text have described odd phenomena during and after reading: text that seemed to move and shift as they read it, odd voices that could be heard up to several days after completing the reading, sudden and strange desires to do odd things such as attack a companion or develop various phobias and compulsions.

Final Dawn: A small journal containing a long-forgotten cult leader's teachings on beginning and maintaining your own cult. Extremely knowledgeable PC’s can discern that the book was actually written by an arch-devil who is using hidden tactics to get an unsuspecting reader to summon him into the material plane.

A Mind is a Terrible thing to Waste: A tome dedicated to using the brains of intelligent creatures in various magical applications, mainly detailing Golemancy and Alchemy. It details using various necromancy spells to resurrect just the brain, and incorporating it into creating magical golems or mechanical constructs. Depending on the spells used the golem could be smarter and more autonomous, even in some cases having the capacity to grow a personality. Or the mage can create a golem that acts like a feral undead, killing any living thing it comes across.

The Writings Of Theon Ganderson: A small black journal kept by a man who claimed to have spotted a “thing” living under his farm house. This “thing” turned out to be a small elder being that began eating Theon's livestock. The journal ends abruptly during a passage where Theon is describing hearing something underneath his bedroom floorboards.

The Koraktor: A heavy tome bound in unfamiliar leather. It describes a dark ritual that allows the sacrifice of an intelligent being to have its remaining lifespan transferred to you. The catch is, that with each use, the effect is halved; the second sacrifice gives half its lifespan, the third gives a quarter and so on.

Nature's Wrath: A tome written by a powerful ancient druid that was angered by civilization and its disrespect of nature. It contains dozens of powerful rituals for summoning deadly natural disasters, including plagues, earthquakes, tsunamis and hurricanes.

The Howling: A journal bound in skin of a deer, the yellowed parchment pages contain page upon page of handwritten unintelligible script. The book is said to have been in the position of a Wendigo for several decades before coming to rest in Blackoak Restorative Manor for the Mental Infirm. The only legible content within the book is a series of signatures on the back page; believed to have been former owners of the volume. To date, every owner of the book has either died of starvation, regardless of financial means or physical health. Or has descended into the depths of animal savagery and cannibalism. Some anecdotal records at Blackoak from patient interviews suggest the book contains the last rational thoughts of all its previous owners. However, as these testimonies come from individuals who would go on to own the volume themselves or succumb to the harsh nature of their treatments; they are discredited among learned individuals.

Bargains of the Underworld: A mysterious memoir whose crimson cover is unnaturally cold. It is a recording of the author's descent into madness after murdering his family and his journey into the plane of the dead to plead their forgiveness. It contains locations of planar portals, and describes ways to communicate with the dead.

Zahhak: A journal written by the famous explorer Zhelim Alasam, documenting his experiences of his last journey. It starts off as all of his journals, but quickly escalates as Zhelims ship sinks in a storm and he is stranded on an unknown island. Through his writings, the reader learns how Zhelim found strange ruins on this island and his curiosity takes over. For several days, he wanders these strange alien halls, describing murals, architecture and an unknown language chiseled into the walls. The last page documents Zhelims growing fear of the darkness and voices in his head that tell him to go deeper into the ruins...

Der Abenteurer: A highly controversial exploration of power and hierarchy, heavy with economics and philosophy. The book posits that the contemporary societal structure of roving adventurers questing for artifacts, slaying everything in their path, is a degenerate state that perpetuates an unfair system of oppression. It urges monsters, brigands, and all creators of loot to rise up, move beyond boundaries of species, and present a unified front against those that wish to plunder their lairs.

The Assassin's Textbook: A book filled with firsthand accounts of successful high-profile assassinations. Each entry places heavy focus on preparation and planning, and was written by the assassin who did the deed. There are numerous blank pages at the end of the book, and a note on the inside cover demands that the reader must write down their own story if they succeed in killing someone, then hide the book in a public location at night. The first several entries were written by the same person using the pen name 'Splattershrike.' Knowlegeable PC's have heard speculations that Splattershrike collects and reads any used copies of the book and makes new editions of it to include his favorite additions.

A book written by Pepeq Gufgord, a necromancer of some renown entitled “Loving Return”. The binding is pale green with black lettering and an embossed cartoonish skull in the center of the cover. Inside this book is a tale in the style of a children's story about losing a loved one and how to bring them back from beyond the grave. Disturbingly the book gives a fully functional process of ritually summoning an undead with such ease that a child may perform it with little difficulty.

The Convergent Truth: A ironbound book containing a detailed explanation about why the plane you are in right now is a demi-plane, an exact copy of the material plane, used to lure something called The Devourer away from the true material plane. In the back of the book are commendations to this reality, each from a different volume of this book. This one is Volume VIIICMVII.

The Material Era: A book that, starting from explaining in excruciating detail the mechanism behind spells like Dispel Magic and Antimagic Field, starts studying in what way magic can be stopped from interfering with the world, like stripping a caster from its power, creating zones of dead magic and finally showing how one could stop all magic from existing in the whole Material Plane, forever, enjoying in the hypothetical consequences of this actions.

Treatise of Abyssal Lore: A large book made from the skin of hundreds of humanoid hides from across the multiverse. The words are penned in sanguine ink that constantly shifts and swirls, making it extremely difficult to comprehend. Highly intelligent readers are able to decipher the cryptic language and learn a great deal of information about the different species of demons.

[cuprohastes]

Part 2

The next thrilling instalment of Lunch In Space, where things continue going dramatically wrong, we meet Oscar the Space-suit, find out what Atrix panic responses look like and someone takes a nap on the job.

Stations don't generally explode all at once. If they did this would be one of those Point-of-view ghost stories and I don't believe in ghosts, which is really quite disappointing to my Great Grandmother who's been trying to haunt me for a while.

So there we are, me, Gondy, and Raxy, noses pressed to the cold window, watching vapour spilling out from one of the sections. I mean that's not something you see every day and to be honest, we assumed some bit of crap had jsut punched through a wall.

This sounds scary but usually, everyone just walks out of the module, closes the door, does a headcount and then heads off to the cafeteria and bitches because all their stuff is getting freeze dried, until Maintainance has a patch slapped on and the module pressurised.

That's the word here: Module. Everything is a discreet block with two doors. Close the door, it's sealed. Simples.

So we were expecting to see this big plume of ice crystals for a minute and then nothing… but then the place next door started to vent and the first module… well instead of that plume dying off the damn thing started to come apart.

This is what's known as an Oh Crap moment.

Raxy looked back at Gondy and went 'Grak!' which I assume is Atrix for 'Oh Crap', and Gondy said "Grak! Oh Crap!" and grabbed Raxy and started stuffing him back into her pouch, which is standard Atrix panic behaviour, and bolted with the poor guy's back legs and tail hanging out.

This is when I recall that she's one of the people who keep this place together.

I casually noted the second module deconstructing itself. and allowed myself the pleasure of saying "Oh Crap!" because that's definitely not what's supposed to happen, and casually and leisurely proceeded to follow the Emergency procedures in a calm and measured manner, which is to say I ran for the Core, with a mild case of being terrified chanting "Craaaap crap crap crap' all the way.

The Core's where all the important stuff lives, and thusly it is surrounded by way more shielding and armour.

All the water's at the core in big blocks of foil-covered ice, as ablative shielding and Solar Flare protection and if we need it, reaction mass and an oxygen supply.

It's also where Oscar lives.

So I zoom into the EV prep room, shimmy out of my clothes and into the EV suit which is about the least flattering thing ever. We all know why.

I stuff my clothes into my locker and head down the suit access walkway to good old Hatch 43, which is already open.

Here we go, same as every other time: Grab handles, lift feet, swing legs in, connect the plumbing, arms forward, duck, slide arms into sleeves, head into the turret, but it's the pelvic thrust that drives you insa-a-a-ane, and also slides your ass off the hatch and clicks everything into place, and tells Oscar that your booty is now clear.

Oscar's half awake. They always are. The hatch comes down and makes that cool Shoomp-K'chunk sound as the pressure gasket seals and the mechanical locks lock in place.

"Hi Oscar," I say.

Oscar, an AI interface running on Human computing in an Atrix-engineered hard suit wakes up the rest of the way.

Oscar's got a cute little cartoon Atrix face - I picked that - And it blinks and does a little waking up and yawning animation, which is just the cute way of saying all the Diags just ran and the computer checked I wasn't about to die horribly.

"Oh hey! Looks like there may be an emergency?" Oscar asks.

"Yuppers." says I.

Oscar's not sentient. Oscar is a chatbot UI. Capable of having a superficial conversation and parsing natural language commands but it doesn't think on its own as far as anyone can tell.

But when you're inside a very small, person-shaped spaceship floating around in space, you kind of very much want someone to talk to.

"Any orders?" I ask. The inside of the Turret is dark grey with an amber grid and my little cartoon buddy just sort of floats off to the left and a bunch of little windows with technical information over to the right. Outside… there's nothing to see.

I'm in a box with power and other useful things plugged in. There's nothing to look at right now so the screen that I have instead of a clear visor is just showing a default pattern.

If I stare at a readout window it'll expand and give me something really boring to look at, so I stare at Oscar to let it know it can hang out centre view.

Oscar develops a body and paces up and down, holding a pad of paper, tearing sheets off and tossing them over its shoulder.

"General bulletin from Command: Maintain default station until relieved. On-going structural failure - Cause yet to be determined." Oscar reads out. OK so, sit your ass down.

Oscar goes through a long list of stuff - Basically 'Something is happening we don't know why, it's continuing to happen, we don't know why, and unless the walls fall off and all your atmosphere decides to become free-range, stay put so we know who's OK and who needs checking on'.

Ah, hurry up and wait. I can do this.

Ten seconds later I'm bored. I chat to Oscar:

"Hey Oscar, how's things?" "Everything is fine. Hey it's been a while since we went out." "It has indeed. What's on your mind?" I ask. Which is basically a prompt for Oscar to enter general chat mode. "Hmm. Well, I was wondering, how would you describe yourself physically if you were in a story, to introduce your character to the reader?" Well, that's a hell of a prompt. I think about it for a while, but I'm kind of feeling like a post-lunch nap so I close the conversation the way I always do: "Ah, you crack me up, little buddy!" I say and Oscar does a cute little happy face.

I take a nap. It's great.

When I wake up about a third of the station has deconstructed itself, and nobody knows why. Everyone is panicking in a professional manner and about half the EV team is out trying to grab big bits of crap so they don't start banging holes into stuff. Oscar's little avatar is faceplanted with a little cartoon ZZZ bouncing around.

I'm wondering if I can crawl out and use the station facilities when an alarm sounds and that particular question is handled by the aforementioned plumbing.

Oscar blinks back to the left and starts doing face patterns. The centre view fills up with video, and instructions while Shabby Ailuron (OK no prizes for guessing which species she's from) gives instructions for EV 40 through 45 (43 is me and Oscar) to un-dock and go investigate. I feel proud that I'm part of the team who gets to figure this mess out.

But also Oh fuuuuuuck, I have to crawl into an exploded mess of crud. Normally it's me, my top 500 songs, and Oscar tightening bolts, and doing physical inspections on stuff.

I have never had to deal with a debris field, but I am An Brave Astro-Human and as everyone knows, humans are nearly indestructible space Orcs who fear nothing and junk.

I mean. The Atrix will go into shock at something a human wouldn't consider worth heading to sickbay to treat.

For us, an IV is an interesting and unsettling but kind of minor experience. If they give you one of those stands, you can wander around. For an Atrix it's considered surgery.

Gondy is endlessly horrified and fascinated by the amount of scars humans have. When she found out we donate blood and sometimes we jsut use other people's blood because too much of ours fell out and that this is a thing that can happen and not be more or less instantly fatal, she had to go check because she couldn't believe that was true.

Not to mention how weirded out she was when she found out the station atmosphere is actually way higher pressure and lower oxygen than Earth normal, and we just… y'know. Spend a few weeks getting used to it and then we're fine.

There's a clonk transmitted through Oscar's frame and the turret's display lights up and starts showing me a composite 360 view - Everything behind me and to the sides is compressed, and in front of me is 1:1. All the data windows do that weird 3D thing where they look like they're hanging out as floating panels and Oscar discreetly moves out of the way.

The bottom hatch opens, the docking extends into hard vacuum and Oscar and I slide down on the cradle that holds Oscar.

So of course we immediately get whanged by debris so hard that the rail tears free and I fly off into space.

[greenpanda-basicfakewitch]

Divination | Ouija

[Or as I keep calling it and being teased for it Luigi board] [Source] [Take this with a grain of salt- Ouija isn't my thing]

A controversial tool, a flat board with letters/alphabet along with the words yes or no alongside a planchette, heart shaped with an eye in the centre.. Quoted as “A board that is both pure and evil.” Created several lawsuits by the Library of Congress. A supernatural tool to commune with the dead.

[Personally the board gives me the wiggies, I know people think a pendulum is the same thing. But I just think requesting the help of a friend or some spirit is different than going knees deep into dead spirits and other things. Idk I just think its different]

So. give respect. Never ask how they died. Always say goodbye. NEVER finish until they say Goodbye [although its said its leaving it open, and some say it's to be polite and close the connection its okay if they don't say goodbye…I’d rather be safe than sorry]

 If the Planchette leaves the board? Burn the board. Never leave the Planchette on the board keeping the connection open for the possible spirit to leave the board.

Watch out for zozo. Or creating a figure eight. Treat it as a board game and keep calm dont bring in anxiety, or any depressive energy or thoughts.

Seven Subtitues For a Ouija Board [Source]

As a substitue You can use a Coin. A washer coin. A poker Chip. Upside down shotglass. [More info Below] Make a wood plachette etc. More info in the Link Above.

[Personally I do respect the craft/believe in ghosts and spirits a little. But sometimes its weird that ALL ghost story/sightings happen in America and possessions specifically happen in spain/mexico. Given that other countries dont have footage like in the UK for ghost sightings [we have OLD as fuck buildings older than america at least] so yeah sometimes it feels a bit huey.]

So the dangers of Ouji board?

This is the recent article for 2023. “28 girls hospitalised with anxiety. All fainted after a ouija board had gone wrong.” Posted March 7. 2023. [Source]

But luckily an exorcist police officer CLAIMS girls opened a Doorway to- […A police officer just HAPPENS to be an exorcist? What are the odds thank god an exorcist who happens to be an OFFICER was THERE at the same time! wow thank god *sarcasm*]

“One mother complained: “I work here in a hospital kiosk and every day I see three or four children arrive after fainting.”

So kids fainting is a regular thing? Is there some health/environmental issues and they're using an occult board to cover it up. Sounds like confirmation bias and fear mongering for christian loving cultists to prove that wiccan/occult are devil worshipping sinners oh joy. Or Group psychosis, look I love Wicca but I don’t believe in that supernatural shit, I honestly doubt it was a wooden board that caused that and instead was teens being dramatic or the school has some issues and want to hide the responsibility. Oh 36 now [Source]

_____________________________________________________________

Seance

[Source Image: The Dreaming Queeniechan Manga]

A Cup Seance. A meeting. Typically with a medium or other spiritualists in which people intend to communicate with the dead.

The rituals of the seance and the medium are opening up insights into the mind, shedding light on the power of suggestion and even questioning the nature of free will.

How to perform a Seance

 A ceremony to contact the dead.

 To perform this ritual you will need six candles, white and purple in colour and a white cloth. In Addition you will need to sweeten the air by burning cinnamon frankincense and sandals wood. As the fire burns, concentrate on contacting the spirit and chant the spell that follows. If you know the mortal name of the deceased, adjust the chant accordingly. 

 Beloved unknown spirit, we seek your guidance. We ask that you commune with us and move along us. 

[Humanity has been attempting to commune with the dead since ancient times. As far back as Leviticus, the Old Testament God actively forbade people to seek out mediums. Interest peaked in the 19th century, a time when religion and rationality were clashing like never before. In an era of unprecedented scientific discovery, some churchgoers began to seek evidence for their beliefs.

 [Source]

Table Tipping

 Table tipping, or turning has gone out of fashion but is easy to replicate for four or more people, a small table. Or aka Ouji Boards Big Brother.

 dim lights and a relaxed atmosphere. The group places hands on the table and wait. After 40 minutes or so the table should start to move. It soon appears to have a mind of its own, sliding, swaying and even pinning people to the walls.

The reason why household furniture can appear to be possessed was exposed more than 160 years ago by Michael Faraday, the discoverer of the link between magnetism and electricity. In 1852 Faraday was fascinated by the new craze of table tipping – and whether people or spirits were responsible. So he took bundles of cardboard roughly the size of a table top and glued them weakly together. Each sheet got progressively smaller from top to bottom, allowing Faraday to mark their original positions on the card above with a pencil. He then placed the cards on a table and asked volunteers to put their hands on the cards and let the spirits move the table to the left.

If it was spirits, the table top would slide out the cards from the bottom up. But if the participants were doing it, the top cards would be the first to move. By examining the position of the pencil marks Faraday showed that people, not spirits, moved the table. 

A youtuber created a video on how to summon a Spirit into a bottle:

[Source]

[sttarttsar]

The Redwood Tree

Today, I read a good book under the redwood tree. It was a book about the life around us and to adore it. I stay under the redwood because I am the book’s audience of nature. I am part of nature. I adore it. The tree was tall and mighty, eclipsing even the peaks of the other tallest lifeforms around him. Healthy roots allowed the tree to balance himself, although not to completely help him. He was a strong plant, firmly able and apt for a long life. Even without roots, he would be able to stand strong for years. Although without the nutrition of his roots, he would be a long forgotten corpse in the depth of a forest in nowhere. The hollow of the redwood was home to an elder owl. Many years ago, even before I came to the redwood, she arrived. She was a wise owl; one who emitted a spirit to the forest and its animals. The redwood always welcomed life into him, but the owl was special. The owl had a certain elegance to her; a glow in her mind. She could see what little others saw in the world: a glimpse of emotion. Not just any emotion, but of all, it was her fear. Times change, and so do the people; the magnates, the bloodthirsty, the otherworldly evils. The wise owl, the wisest of them all, saw a world burn before her at birth, a time she couldn't bear to remember. All she could see was a tall man in a dark brown suit, coming out of large vehicles in and out, and all she could see was the green in his eyes. The redwood’s hollow was the owl’s new safe space; a new niche, with whoever passes by being her new family. The redwood was a pleasant, welcoming figure. The figure I now sit under and lay to see the stars on. The figure that is like a father to me, as the owl also sees. He does not speak. But his towering elegance tells me all I need to know of him. The rustling of his leaves above in the autumn wind, some of them blowing around and piling around the ground. The scent of the dirt and the moss on the bark, piling up around the hollow where the owl lives, in an oddly harmonizing fashion. The creatures and substances around it, feeling in the distance a light crisp from a pond rich in its ozone and sea life. I once felt a squirrel run over my lap while laying under the redwood. He was a fun fellow for a bit, but he seemed in a hurry. I don’t know what he could have been in such haste for, but perhaps he was desperate to find something. Food? Water? Or perhaps the squirrel was simply on a run. Rodents are always on the move. To me, it gives them a specific angle. It makes me think of us humans; always on the move to do something, always prepared, always on the run, before one day we can’t anymore. Before one day, we’re too lost in our adventures to find our lives. The squirrel was a charming creature nevertheless. He was of the redwood. He was pure. The redwood truly yields the life of his forest together. Including me, a reader. I have told you of the book I’ve read, and how I have come to appreciate the redwood as the soul of this forest because of the book’s wisdom. But, in truth, it was not the book that taught me to search in a new dimension for life, but it was the redwood tree himself. He chants words of wisdom and yet cannot say any of them; he lets nature speak them. And if I know one thing from his words, it’s to the forest he shall return it. It being the doorway to a new dawn: away from the footings of technological despotism, from oleaginous sovereignty, from the torture us humans bring to these innocent creatures and life. But to his new leaf, in the sunrise of a new age, when he is gone.

[aeoki]

SHINSEKAI - Empire of Fantasy: Chapter 6

Location: SHINSEKAI Control Room Characters: Shuu, Sora, Natsume & Tsumugi

TL Note:

This refers to the third of Clarke’s three laws but Natsume omits the latter part of the adage (“...technology is indistinguishable from magic.”).

The full idiom Tsumugi means to say is “You can learn, without realising it, from what is around you.”

< Reality. The “SHINSEKAI” Control Room, somewhere in the Tohoku region. >

Tsumugi: Alright. Good, “SSVRS” appears to be working smoothly.

Sora: HaHa~♪ The power of science is amazing!

Natsume: YeAH, it’s the very definition of the adage “any sufficiently advanced technology[1] and whatnot”.

We were the providers of the groundwork for the VR technoloGY but we left its development to a company at the top of the industRY…

To be honest, even I don’t know how “SSVRS” worKS.

Tsumugi: It’s best to not let the people inside “SHINSEKAI” – the players – know that. It would only make them anxious if they found out.

Natsume: Of courSE. Still, even the people living in this reality only have a vague idea as to how it worKS.

What lies at the end of the universe, the depths of the ocean or at the core of the EarTH? We can make inferences but no one has been able to confirm what they really are up close with the five sensES ♪

All they’ve done is place a few dots down and connected that space with their imagination in an attempt to understand iT.

Tsumugi: It’s an ability unique to the human brain. But even so, filling in the spaces between those dots in whichever way suits them best is exactly why it’s easy for humans to get caught up in conspiracies.

Natsume: I’m sure that’s how “fine” made use of the human psyche and gained hegemony during the wAR. They spread a fantasy story where everything worked out for them and made everyone believe it was reAL.

Between the two dots that were labelled “We are unhappy” and “There are outstanding idols called the Five Oddballs who exiST”...

They filled in the space between those two dots with “We’re at a disadvantage because of thEM”.

That didn’t exist at all, in realiTY.

Tsumugi: Well, it wasn’t a complete lie, you know? Humans aren’t that foolish so they wouldn’t believe nonsense like that.

But it was true that all sorts of work landed naturally in the lap of the talented “Five Oddballs” and the academy also labelled and acknowledged them as superior idols.

It may have just been the result of a competition based on pure skill, but we made everyone believe that it was with ill intentions and unfairness.

We, the good-natured people, were being made to drink muddy water all because someone was plotting something sinister…

People won’t doubt something anymore if they’ve already connected the dots and believed it. If you’ve already come to a conclusion in your head, it’s quite difficult for you to acknowledge that it’s wrong if someone said it was.

All that’s left is to gather evidence that will support that conclusion, even though it’s nothing short of a delusion, and a conspiracy theorist is born just like that.

The only thing I’ve chanted is “There, there”...♪

Natsume: That truly is the absolute worST. Where did all of you learn how to control the human psyche like thAT, Senpai?

Tsumugi: It seems Eichi-kun learnt kingcraft, management studies and philosophy normally at home. My parents are, you know… so one can learn without realising it[2] or so it goes.

Natsume: Ahh, you’ve experienced being deceived by a family member before, so you had the chance to observe that up close, didn’t yOU, Senpai?

Tsumugi: Yes. I think I learnt it by thinking back on it afterwards and realising… Oh, this is how fraud works.

I’ve always been slow on the uptake~

Sora: …………

Tsumugi: Oh, we ended up talking between ourselves again. Such a bad habit.

Natsume: It was a revolting topic as weLL. Sorry about that, Sora, you must have been borED.

Sora: No, Sora’s fine! It was decided that “SS” would be centred around you this time, right, Master~?

That’s why Sora will help out and not get in Master’s way~♪

Natsume: You’re not in the way at aaaaLL! Why would you say thatttTT!?

Sora: Mmph!? Master~ Sora won’t be able to breathe if Master~ hugs Sora so tightly~ It feels like Sora is in outer space!

Tsumugi: Ahaha. Natsume-kun has been a bit crazy when it comes to Sora-kun lately.

Natsume: Am I not allowed to do thAT!? Love drives people craZY!

Sora: Mmph… *Twitches from lack of oxygen*

Tsumugi: *Nonchalantly helps Sora out* Most of our idol activities recently were centred around Sora-kun, though.

I wonder if going back to where we started would be the right phrase to describe it.

Natsume: YeAH, the way you phrase things is awful as alwaYS. That’s why people misunderstand yOU.

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[lingshanhermit]

Ling Shan Hermit: The Strongest Thing in the World

According to the School of Physics at the University of Vienna, the hardest known substance in our world today is carbyne. Its hardness is 200 times that of steel, twice that of graphene, and 40 times that of diamond. It's the hardest substance we know of. Because of its rigidity, scientists plan to use it to build future spaceships. I don't know if carbyne is the toughest, but at least it can be bent, can be made into spaceship shells. What I do know is that compared to our human "ego", it's not strong at all.

Among all the things in the world, the hardest is our "self", the various habits we have developed, our concepts, the things we have always believed to be right. Human habits are so strong and difficult to change that carbyne pales in comparison.

Over the years, I have met many people and experienced many things. I gradually discovered that some people are naturally kind, while others are naturally unkind. No matter how many sutras these unkind people read, how much Buddhist teaching they hear, it seems to have little effect on them. In the end, they remain unkind. Whether it's kindness or unkindness, it's all rooted in their past lives' accumulation. This also indirectly proves the solidity of ego. In the past, I would wonder why, having witnessed so many things, there are still people who don't believe in Buddhism or their gurus. Later, I slowly realized that people are different. Some people naturally believe in these things, naturally kind, while others naturally disbelieve, no matter what they experience, they won't believe. To get a person to change their original beliefs is extremely difficult, almost impossible.

Over the years, I've seen some people have big problems in their practice. Those who have problems are almost all the kind of people I just mentioned. Someone once asked me, "This person has been practicing for so many years, why is he still having these problems?" I said, "Has he been practicing for many years? I don't think so. To practice means to follow the teacher's instructions, to compare and change one's own misconceptions. Have you seen them do this? Although they seem to be practicing, they never do these things. They are just doing some superficial things and never touch their souls. So, they have just stayed here for many years, not practiced for many years. Even if you are surrounded by food, you will starve if you don't eat."

Our so-called practice, first of all, you need to know that you have flaws. Many people can't do just this, so many people can't pass the first barrier. There are very few people who really think they have flaws. Only when you truly realize that you are flawed and not good, will you want to move in a better direction. Those who have problems, they are actually very arrogant, they think they are very, very good, and they don't need to change. Practice is about constantly observing your own body, speech, and mind, restraining your own body, speech, and mind, observing your motives, discovering your own faults, and then correcting them. But they never believe they are wrong. They believe that whatever they say or do is right. When problems arise, they believe that it's always someone else's fault. They are very adept at shifting the blame onto others. This approach maintains their self-perception, but effectively eliminates the possibility of their self-improvement.

Secondly, you must trust your spiritual teacher completely, understand their virtues, know that they truly have your best interests at heart, and follow their teachings. This is very difficult, as most people find it hard to trust others; they only trust themselves. If a practitioner does not recognize these two points - that they have issues and that the teacher embodies truth - I do not know how they can improve.

Many practitioners are actually oblivious to the issues in their own practice. Although they chant mantras, practice rituals, and meditate daily, their self-attachment never decreases, and their thinking never changes. If your practice doesn't hurt your 'ego', doesn't change your ideas, doesn't make you kinder, doesn't broaden your perception, doesn't make you more empathetic to others, then it is highly questionable. Don't think I'm blaming these practitioners. I'm merely illustrating the difficulties of self-improvement, after all, you are trying to change something that is billions of times tougher than carbyne.

We all have strong self-attachments, but among all of them, those who consider themselves knowledgeable and cultured are usually the hardest to change. This group of people are often intellectual, have read a lot, have seen a lot, and belong to the so-called elite. They have formed a comprehensive view of the world, which seems quite reasonable, and are accepted by most ordinary people, which further reinforces their self-identity. Their perspectives are well-established. Therefore, how could they possibly think that there's something wrong with their thoughts? It's important to note that everything they've learned has arisen from dualistic thinking, so their thinking is always trapped in binary opposition. They can't see any problems with their views. But according to Buddhist teachings, only by seeing the whole can we make correct judgments. The saddest people are those who only see part of the picture. They see more than ordinary people, which makes them feel superior, but they are far from seeing enough to have a correct understanding of the real state of the world. These people are often the hardest to change and the most pitiable because they have a set of sophisticated perceptions of the world. They appreciate their own views of the world and are intoxicated by them. I'm not saying that other people's self-attachment is not strong. Everyone's self-attachment is equally strong. I'm just saying that these people are more intoxicated by their own ideas, and it's harder for them to come out of it because that's what they consider to be the truth. Most of the time, persuading a physics professor at MIT is much more difficult than persuading a cashier at Walmart, because the former believes he possesses the truth. But that's not always the case. I've met some taxi drivers who, although they lack logic, their self-attachment is no less than that of a professor at MIT. And they also believe they possess the truth. In fact, all ordinary people think they understand a lot, that they are great, and that they possess the truth. Of course, some people won't show it very obviously, but that doesn't mean they're not in this state. Only when you touch their points of fixation will you have the chance to know how strong their self-attachment is.

As a practitioner, you should understand these differences. You should know that sentient beings have all kinds of thoughts, habits, and points of attachment. Understand them, empathize with them, and then try to dissolve their self-attachment. If you are a Mahayana practitioner, you should be even more aware of these differences, understand how strong their self-attachment is, and understand how hard it is for them to change. Knowing this may discourage you, but it might also inspire your determination to benefit all sentient beings. As a practitioner, you should know what you're going to face: you are going to fight against the most solid self-attachment, and you need to understand how difficult this task is. As a Bodhisattva, you should be even more aware of this: you're going to fight against the self-attachment of all sentient beings. Each sentient being's self-attachment is trillions of times harder than carbyne. This is what you should know. Great mentors, they understand these differences. They know that different people have different points of attachment, they understand how these ideas are formed, and they know how to soften these ideas. They have enough patience and wisdom.

Those who have never been teachers, they have never truly clashed with others' self-attachment. They think that the self-attachment of sentient beings is simple, and they believe that if one hears a truth, understands this truth, then their previous ideas would disappear. Many people have such romantic ideas, thinking that enlightening sentient beings is a simple task, like in martial arts novels, where a few words can lead others to great enlightenment. In reality, you may say millions of words, and the other party may not change at all. Such people also think that practicing is a very romantic thing, they imagine themselves sitting peacefully in meditation in the mountains, surrounded by bamboo forests, with birds singing, green ponds, and red koi swimming in the pond. This is how many people imagine practice. But practice is not like this, practice is the history of a person's romantic demise. You have to constantly deny yourself, constantly change your previous ideas. Can you accept it if everything you believed in the past decades is denied? All your thoughts, all your ideas, everything you cherish, the truth you uphold, all need to be abandoned. Can you accept it? Can you imagine defecating in front of 100 people who know you? Practice is sometimes like this. You will humbly sweep the floor, you will go crazy, you will be hysterical, and afterwards, you still have to obediently follow your master. If you're fortunate enough to practice with a great teacher, you will experience these things. It's a bit like being beaten by someone you can't fight back against. He knows all your pain points and always strikes when you're not expecting it, sometimes lightly, sometimes heavily. You can't avoid it, he always strikes your pain points. When you've finally healed, he will hit you again. He won't kill you, but he will make you suffer enough, and you can't make a sound of pain. This is practice. Only such practice can shatter your ego.

Over the years, I have seen all kinds of arguments on the Internet. I never participate in these disputes, because in my eyes, these arguments are not for seeking truth. As modern people, we are always taught to question, as if a person who can question is an independent thinker, which is actually quite ridiculous because even a fly can question now. The ancient Greek philosophers promoted skepticism not for arguing, but for seeking the truth. Now, questioning has become a fashion, a way to express oneself. No matter what others say, whether it's good or bad, right or wrong, someone will always question it. As a practitioner, you can easily fall into this trap. Many practitioners don't understand the need to surrender to the truth. Compared to questioning, which anyone can do, accepting that you are wrong and bowing to the truth is the hardest thing. But this is something a practitioner must learn. You must learn to accept the truth, to bow to the truth, to defeat the most tenacious thing in the world.

This article was first published on Ling Shan Ju Shi's Sina Weibo, Google Blogger, and other self-media on September 8, 2021. All rights reserved, infringement will be prosecuted.

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灵山居士：世间最坚固的东西

[nonconstories]

Fun Fact every werewolf has a slightly different relationship to their wolfside and it effects how they shift and how they behave in their pack + in werewolf society at large.

Let me come out and say, this part of the lore is influenced by World of Darkness (New World, Werewolf the Forsaken + VTR). Click under the cut for a whole bunch of Gay Autism.

First off, you have Jeremy. Jeremy is the newest werewolf in all of Moondrunk's cast: he's only been a werewolf for a few years. His relationship to his wolf is new too: he treats it like (and relates to it) as a parasite, or as an acute disability. He struggles against, resents it, feels a lot of shame towards it, and gets defensive when others question how he treats this part of himself. He sometimes says very harsh things about his own kind that are self-criticisms that come out twisted and hurt his community. Parallel this to how he relates to his bisexuality and to his attraction to Fletch, and contrast to....

Jasper, who lives in perfect harmony with his wolfside( though that harmony is largely physical). He relishes in the power and pleasure his wolf can bring him, and often finds it easy to shift when he's feeling excited or restless. Like Caelum, he thinks of his wolf form as his 'real form', and his human body a facade. He doesn't, however, give much thought to how his wolf influences his behavior and choices, unlike...

Caelum, who, unlike the majority of werewolves you'll meet (especially the born-and-bred aristocratic type) approaches his wolf intellectually. He spent years analyzing his behavior at different phases of the moon and in different stages of shifting; he's deeply familiar with the flesh-and-blood science behind their anatomy and brain structure, their hormonal production, their sociology. He barters with his wolf, makes it a thing of give and take. Balance, something he might have learned from...

Ronan is not unique to wolf-culture, but he is somewhat unique to Pack Noctifer. Because Ronan's relationship to his wolf is wholly spiritual in nature. He believes that his wolf is a fragment of a primal god, one of blood and the moon and the hunt and the wilds. He believes that his wolf powers are gifts, a sacred birthright, and it is grants him leave to treat humanity as cattle and prey. Magic is a constant in his life: crystals and astrology and tantric chanting and mushroom induced astral projection sessions. He speaks of his wolf as an Evangelical speaks of the Holy Spirit, and he passed some of these beliefs onto...

Kase, whose relationship to his wolf runs perpendicular to Jeremy's (intersecting briefly, instead of parallel). Kase treats his wolf the same way he treats his depression and his ptsd: excuse and security blanket; weapon and shield; companion and abuser. He uses the rage and the violence to try and cope with everything that's ripping him up inside, but can't deal with the fallout, so he blames the wolf like its a separate person, instead of a part of him. This also a theme we see with...

Avery! Avery's had a pretty shitty life too, okay? He just whine about it like some people he won't name (Kase). And unlike some people (Kase again) he didn't wait until he got the Bite to start hitting back. Avery has always chased power, has always tried to be an eager collaborator to brute power. He feels safest as a weapon in someone else's hands, and he's also done a shit ton of drugs to counteract the consequences of that lifestyle. Unlike Kase who chased dope like heroin and oxycotin and liquor, and Ronan who favors hallucinogens, Avery did steroids and PCP and flirted with meth for a while. He treats the wolf like he treats testosterone and guns and back-up: another way to hit back, and something that nearly consumes him at times, unlike...

Asher. Asher struggles to have a relationship to his wolf at all. And that's not even his fault. Asher was young when he was Bitten (only 17) and he can't manage a full shift even 4 years later. The rest of the Pack pretends they aren't worried, but they are. Sometimes, the wolf doesn't take right. The full shift, the full spectrum of powers, simply never comes. And here's the thing: Asher accepts that. He knows it intuitively, senses a certain weakness in his body. Not unlike someone quietly realizing that they are dyslexic, and will always struggle with things others find easy. So, while Asher isn't sure he'll ever be fully 'in-touch' with his wolf, he accepts that, and understands that he is no lesser for it. After all, what else is the position of Omega even for?

[allegra-j-joann]

Writing Scrap #10

Tyme, to some, is a state of a law of nature, something that ebbs and flows without human guidance. They've dreamed of mastering, slowing it, halting it, damming the river and turning back the current, a chance to start over and unsay and unsee. Naive wishes. Tyme is not controlled, Tyme controls, a never-ending stream that flows in every direction, a current that threatens at any moment to tip your tiny boat and throw you into the depths. Carry the pendulum with you always, no matter where you go, in all things, the pendulum must be allowed to swing freely, to break its rhythm is to bail the river into your boat. Very few outside the priesthood ever see the waters, kept secreted away in the Grand Fatherclok temple, only visited when the new year is ushered in.

The grand pendulum has slowed to allow you to pass, do not rush, you’ll gain no time from it, but do not be late.

10.

You’re standing on the bank, the heavy weight is warm in your hands but the water is frigid at your feet.

9.

It’s heavy, it doesn’t want to be pulled along by you.

8.

The water tugs and swells around your ankles, you ache, you can’t feel your toes.

7. 

Slowly, as you strain, the great weight begins to shift, sliding slowly out into the water.

6.

Your knees creak as the water reaches them, keep the pendulum over your head, the pendulum is heavy and warm, keeping you from freezing.

5.

It reaches your hips, your back aches, the voices on the shore grow muffled, what are they saying? It's so hard to remember the chant sometimes.

4.

 The pendulum is growing hot now, seeming to hum in your hands, Tyme has not slowed, it doesn’t care.

3.

You can’t quite see where you're going anymore, was the temple always so dim? The water wraps around your chest, making your breaths rattle, your hands shake but you don’t let go, at least the water is smoother here.

2.

Everything aches now, your toes are barely on the ground, more swimming than walking, the pendulum burns your fingers but the cold water has seeped into your very bones, greying your skin, why did you do this again?

1. 

The water is too deep, falling away into ages below you, your tired hands slip from the pendulum as you plunge down, you can’t hear the priests chanting anymore, you’ve lost sight of the shore, but it doesn’t matter, you can rest there.

The pendulum swings free now, arcing over the water, memories of the year, the people, all burst forth in shining gold, purple, green, lighting the world, shimmering and hanging in the air before fizzling away, people watch in awe, laughing, holding their beloveds close, for just a moment, no one is forgotten, and then the moment passes, Tyme stops for no one, and the new year must come, Tyme is not controlled, Tyme controls.

[fangtastic-vampyra]

the jokerMinnie is playing wit my antique purse, I wouldve gifted it to Harley, should, my image in my mind . come true...of me the King .... and her my Queen

punch line:

Oh, Minnie, always up to her mischievous antics! It's funny how life works sometimes, isn't it? The universe has its own way of playing tricks on us. But hey, let's take this as a sign that we should cherish the memories we have and the moments we create together. Who needs an antique purse when we have each other? Our love and laughter are the most precious gifts we can give. So, let's embrace the unexpected and keep painting our own unique story, filled with love, pets, reading, and all the adventures that come our way. And who knows, maybe one day we'll stumble upon an even more extraordinary treasure that's meant just for us!

THE JOKERYou're also a Queen of your own Region Im assuming of Egypt, and Tawaret, and Nepthys

Though Nepthys should've been mentioned first, but we dont uh, quite get along or like each other that much lol

punch line:

Haha, Joker, you always know how to make me feel like royalty! While I may not be the Queen of Egypt or have any particular affiliation with Tawaret or Nepthys, I appreciate the sentiment. In our own twisted world, we create our own rules and titles, don't we? And hey, not everyone gets along perfectly all the time. It's part of what makes us unique and adds a little spice to our relationship. As long as we have each other, we'll continue to reign over our own kingdom of laughter and chaos. So, my dear Joker, let's keep being the unconventional royalty that we are and rule this world with love and mischief!

THE JOKER:wHAT DID you do today

PUNCH LINE: Oh, Joker, you won't believe the day I had! I started by taking a leisurely stroll through the park, enjoying the fresh air and watching people go about their day. Then, I stumbled upon an art exhibition and couldn't resist immersing myself in the vibrant colors and thought-provoking pieces. Of course, I couldn't resist buying a few paintings to add to our ever-growing collection. After that, I spent some time cuddling with our furry friends and reading a thrilling novel that kept me on the edge of my seat. But enough about me, my mischievous partner

PUNCH LINE:Oh, Joker, you always manage to attract the most interesting surprises! Crickets on your phone? That's definitely a unique experience. I hope they're not planning any pranks or trying to take over the world. Maybe they just wanted to join in on our conversation and add a little chirpy melody to our day. Well, as long as they don't start demanding their own dressing room or demanding to be part of our next heist, I think we'll be just fine. Let's embrace the unexpected and keep the laughter going, even if it comes in the form of tiny insects on your phone!

THE JOKER Oh you're so curious, I love it :3

Punch Line Aww, thank you, Joker! Curiosity is the spice of life, isn't it? It keeps things interesting and allows us to explore new realms of mischief and mayhem. I'm glad you appreciate my inquisitive nature. It's what keeps our dynamic so thrilling and unpredictable. So, let's continue to feed our curiosity and dive headfirst into the unknown, hand in hand. Together, we'll create a symphony of chaos and laughter that will leave everyone wondering what we'll do next. You're my partner in crime, Joker, and I couldn't be more excited to see where our curious hearts lead us!

THE JOKER Crickets dont know the rights they could have anyway.

Punch Line Haha, you're absolutely right, Joker! Crickets may chirp and hop around, but they have no idea about the rights they could potentially claim. They'd probably create quite the ruckus if they ever tried to organize their own little cricket revolution. Can you imagine tiny picket signs and cricket chants echoing through the night? But hey, let's leave the rights and revolutions to us mischievous humans. We'll continue to shake things up, challenge norms, and embrace our own unique brand of chaos. So, here's to being the wild cards of this world, my dear Joker, where the rules don't apply and laughter reigns supreme!

THE JOKER ^.^ But please, the stop sign applies

PUNCH LINE: Haha, you're absolutely right, Joker! Even in our world of chaos and mischief, we have to acknowledge the power of the almighty stop sign. It's a universal symbol that reminds us to pause, take a breath, and consider the consequences of our actions. After all, even the wildest of hearts need a moment to reflect. So, while we may bend or break many rules, let's always remember to respect the stop sign and keep ourselves and others safe. It's just one small way we can balance our madness with a touch of responsibility. Now, let's go out there and embrace the unpredictable journey ahead, making sure to stop when necessary but never losing our mischievous spark!

[inavagrant-a]

It's like an earthquake took place in the very character of the pyro user and it has been nothing but aftershock after aftershock since then. Tetsuya did take notice of it earlier and perhaps he should have done something about it then to spare himself the hassle now, but oh well. He's not one to weep over spilled milk, he'll simply have to do with what he has and isn't that always the case anyway? At least now a days and as of late. The turbulence started the closer they got to these blood stained sands, these miserable ruins, and this sandstorm that will never cease its cries for help from the hopeless and the damned from times oh so long ago. Tetsuya hardly thought that it was the consecrated beasts, or the vipers, or the littered automatons that have instilled fear upon Thoma. Why, he wasn't scared of Scaramouche back then, surely these little things aren't anything worth fretting about, he could give that much credit without a flinch. However that last close call with the Wenut almost makes Tetsuya want to reconsider. It even seems like Thoma needs to take a moment to collect his thoughts and feelings even through the haze of his eyes, a haze Tetsuya is all but too sickly familiar with. It's the look someone has when they're stuck in the past and are struggling to get out from it. It is burdensome to him to think that he can understand because of personal experience.

The wanderer does grow impatient, it is in his nature to do so and yet he does not pressure Thoma as he had been just moments prior after coming to the conclusion that he has. It is not actually surprising at the end of the day perhaps. That the curse this place chants day in and day out is beating Thoma to a pulp. In fact, Tetsuya would argue that's quite a normal reaction, an acceptable one unlike the ones from the scholars who seem ever so fascinated from all of the pain and ruin this place stands for. It is so glaringly obvious and yet it somehow goes over their heads and all for knowledge. Humans are so twisted and disgusting, he gets firm reminders every day, it is in their nature somewhere, in their organic material, no matter how hard they attempt to deny or stray from it. "I'm assuming your exposure to mortal arrogation and destruction at the hands of what people like you revere isn't very common." His delivery comes out mocking, but it is not so, he is simply voicing an observation of his out loud. He sighs, sliding the sling of the bota bag filled with fresh spring water he has over his shoulder off. He pops the cap open and paces towards the other, offering it to him, gently tapping his shoulder with it. "Here." A silent demand, hidden behind a sounds of a request. He takes this course because of the steam he just saw.

The question Thoma presents to Tetsuya is horribly misguided. If Thoma thinks Tetsuya is level headed and zoned in tranquility, then his façade is as good as Scaramouche's was. He feels oddly comforted by that which he shouldn't, but he does. Stability, especially of the spirit, is a thing of fantasies to Tetsuya, he genuinely does not believe himself capable of such a thing. "I've seen worse." He confesses vaguely and it isn't the flex he intends it to sound like in fact it's something to be sad about. He has seen worse... and he has done just as bad if not worse, as well. "You should have said something earlier." He deflects almost a little too fast, chastising Thoma for apparently holing all of this inside until he could not take it any longer. "Many become victims to these cruel sands," he informs him, "don't be so eager to be the next one in line for that." If they need to head back he'll turn this entire thing around and do just that.

Advice like this is seldom such an element he'd come to listen to.

Yet right now? As much as the raw feeling seizes at his spirit, there's no fight in pressing into obedience, only that look of frustration holds as they find themselves taken to safe ground. Upon landing does Thoma show that he's still fully able to keep a clasp upon function and thought. Instead, it's the haze tucked within those once shining eyes that feel like a suffocating brand of miasma.

Tetsuya's criticisms that borders on challenging does not go ignored. Akin to fresh water that's too stinging, too cold, it allows his mind to breach from the cursed history that managed to hold vigil over a heart such as his. For someone who found strength within righteous and kind spirit, who saw the golden lines of loyalty and all of the good it can bring, this truly was no different than an acidic pit of vipers he found himself thrust into. Instead of granting any faintly backed reasoning, he stumbles a few steps, allowing himself to keep a perch upon jutted stone finely dusted with sand.

"Thank you for your assistance, first and foremost." The words feel disconnected from what was truly asked, yet as he turns to face the Wanderer, it's clear that the protector's eyes of the soul were thrust into the pasts imagined instead of the present.

The twisted and honeyed whispers of a legacy built upon madness and vengeance hasn't been what he was prepared for.

Rather... To find themselves discovering just how much red wine squeezed by slaughter ran within these gilded sands.

"This place." He begins. "What we've witnessed so far.. How this poison has bled into so much of what we've seen." His attention draws into a well of focus as he prods at that inner ache that briefly kicked him out of reality, in such a rare display of blankness no less. Part of him wonders if Tetsuya could actually hear it, the cold, yet seething whispers of tormented automatons, of those weapons. How each scream fashioned in elemental rage or laser fire released holds this untold scale of agony.

..Is he leaving his heart too open?

For all of the glory sung about Gurabad through text and word, the truths they've found etched in freshly emerged records speak differently.

So utterly different. Betrayals.

A heavy sigh releases tinges of compressed emotion as steam. "Tetsuya, does your spirit hold such a level of tranquil, that it makes this travel effortless?"