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coldslaws-gear-station · 20 days ago

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Here's a few miscellaneous fun facts about the AU because rn it's actually giving me extreme brain rot;

UD Ghetsis' favourite flower is a Hydrangea, it was the first ever flower he ever cultivated. When Alder decided he wanted to challenge himself by raising a bigger plant, Ghetsis gifted him a hydrangea seedling, which grew into gorgeous pink hydrangeas. Though Alder was confused why his were pink and red while Ghetsis' were purple are blue.

Ghetsis himself is actually royalty born, however he was a half blood bastard child. While all of his half siblings were clawing their way into to being in the head seat of the royal clan, he stepped away, forfeiting his right to the throne. Fortunately they all perish mysteriously after their castle was seemingly set ablaze out of nowhere, since he was the only living relative of the family name, he got all of the inheritance. Hense why he's so unbelievably loaded.

Ghetsis' Hydreigon was actually the offspring of his father's Hydreigon that was going to be gifted to his much older half brother, however he refused to take the egg, claiming he could just buy himself a fully evolved dragon and he doesn't want to waste his time raising it. They were simply going to dispose of the egg since he didn't want it but Ghetsis stepped in and offered to raise it. Despite the fact that his father quite literally hated his existence, he gave the egg to him, probably expecting him to die raising it.

After the events of BW and during the events of Alder's healing, he steps down from the league and gifts the position to Drayden. He sees it as an apology for always making his life harder as he always has to deal with the aftermath of when a trainer would lose in the league. He knows he'll set the other Elites straight, he'll do more good with the position than he himself will ever do.

N isn't actually a random child Ghetsis found in the woods, he's actually his biological child. However his mother and Ghetsis' late wife had passed away during child birth, is why Ghetsis went so particularly feral when N was being held captive.

When N was held captive both Colress and Juniper tried to read through all his notes about the dragons to make the dream mist versions as real as possible. However he writes exactly as he talks, too fast, looks like chicken scratch.

N was born intersex (intersex N peak), Anthea is a trans man and one of the Triad's is a trans woman, though all three of them use they/them commonly. Concordia is cis, however he's a raging lesbian, hopeless romantic even. She's exactly like her father, dramatic.

Since the Striaton City triplets aren't actually gym leaders, they work with Ingo and Emmet as mini conductors. Cress guides people to the correct trains, Cilan greets passengers whenever they get on or off the trains, and Chili kicks out rude and brash people being rude to staff. They live in Anville time and you can battle them on Thursdays only.

The brain rot is real, I fear that one day I may be consumed.

- 💌

YES!!! THESE ARE SO GOOD.. all of ghetsis's horrible family conveniently dying in a mysterious fire though hello?? ghetsis. you wanna talk about smth /hj

drayden<3 he deserves it thank you. that's really gotta suck for drayden to have to clean up the mess. dealing with irate and probably distraught trainers. jeez

not sure what it is about ghetsis and having "my wife is dead" vibes. this is like the 3rd or 4th ghetsis ive seen with a dead wife (including my own) hey peepaw you okay. lowkey it's accurate though he really has widower vibes

AGREE WITH NS HAND WRITING. THINKS TOO DAMN FAST TO WRITE GOOD. AND INTERSEX N YEAAHH^!!! i wanna talk more about ns gender on my blogs really bad i just haven't had the opportunity. especially with regards to how ghetsis felt about his "son" not exactly being a boy and how he treated them over it. but intersex n real. also glad to see anthea not being cis is a decently popular interpretation for people who actually write them

shoutout that 1 triad member. woman winning per usual

ALSO!! i love that the triplets get to work at the station bc it works so well. bunch of identical siblings at the subway is hilarious and also the fact that cilan is canonically a huge train nerd in the anime iirc. i bet he's so happy and i love that for him<3<3

let yourself be consumed with brainrot

#long post #💌 anon #unova upside down #death mention cw

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odinsblog · 1 year ago

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ROME — What a difference a few months can make.

Ahead of Italy’s election last fall, Giorgia Meloni was widely depicted as a menace. By this summer, everything — her youthful admiration for Benito Mussolini, her party’s links to neofascists, her often extreme rhetoric — had been forgiven. Praised for her practicality and support for Ukraine, Ms. Meloni has established herself as a reliable Western partner, central to Group of 7 meetings and NATO summits alike. A visit to Washington, which takes place on Thursday, seals her status as a valued member of the international community.

But the comforting tale of a populist firebrand turned pragmatist overlooks something important: what’s been happening in Italy. Ms. Meloni’s administration has spent its first months accusing minorities of undermining the triad of God, nation and family, with dire practical consequences for migrants, nongovernmental organizations and same-sex parents. Efforts to weaken anti-torture legislation, stack the public broadcaster with loyalists and rewrite Italy’s postwar constitution to increase executive power are similarly troubling. Ms. Meloni’s government isn’t just nativist but has a harsh authoritarian streak, too.

For Italy, this is bad enough. But much of its significance lies beyond its borders, showing how the far right can break down historic barriers with the center right. Allies of Ms. Meloni are already in power in Poland, also newly legitimized by their support for Ukraine. In Sweden, a center-right coalition relies on the nativist Sweden Democrats’ support to govern. In Finland, the anti-immigrant Finns Party went one better and joined the government. Though these parties, like many of their European counterparts, once rejected membership in NATO and the European Union, today they seek a place in the main Euro-Atlantic institutions, transforming them from within. In this project, Ms. Meloni is leading the way.

Since becoming prime minister, Ms. Meloni has certainly moderated her language. In official settings, she’s at pains to appear considered and cautious — an act aided by her preference for televised addresses rather than questioning by journalists. Yet she can also rely on colleagues in her Brothers of Italy party to be less restrained. Taking aim at one of the government’s main targets, L.G.B.T.Q. parents, party leaders have called surrogate parenting a “crime worse than pedophilia,” claiming that gay people are “passing off” foreign kids as their own. Ms. Meloni can appear aloof from such rhetoric, even suggesting unhappiness with its extremism. But her decisions in office reflect zealotry, not caution. The government extended a ban on surrogacy to criminalize adoptions in other countries and ordered municipalities to stop registering same-sex parents, leaving children in legal limbo.

It’s a similar story with immigration. The agriculture minister, a longtime ally of Ms. Meloni’s who is also her brother-in-law, has taken the lead in appealing for resistance to “ethnic replacement.” Hardly averse to the slogan — she used it to successfully oppose a 2017 bill that would have granted citizenship to children born in Italy to noncitizen parents — Ms. Meloni has avoided employing the phrase herself since taking office. But her call for “births, not migrants” expresses the same sentiment, and aggressive opposition to migration has been the centerpiece of her administration. A law passed in April forces asylum seekers to live in state-run migrant centers while their claims are considered — a process that can last up to two years — all without legal advice or Italian-language classes. In recent weeks, Ms. Meloni spearheaded a European Union deal with Tunisia, whose authoritarian regime promotes the great replacement conspiracy theory, to curb migration in exchange for financial support.

(continue reading)

#politics #giorgia meloni #italy #lgbt #fascism #authoritarianism #homophobia #xenophobia #transphobia #lgbtq #neofascism

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when-we-drive-away-in-secret · 2 years ago

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It had started with a rivalry. No, before that, it had started with a meeting. A simple tea party on an innocuous Thursday afternoon, when she’d been introduced to the Count’s son and distant cousin-turned-adopted daughter. They’d all gotten on like that infamous and ill-suited metaphor, and then they hadn’t seen each other for months and what was she to make of it? When she finally arrived at Prufrock and suddenly they weren’t friends at all.

But she hadn’t misremembered that first meeting. She didn’t misremember any of the subsequent ones, either.

Beatrice had friends, and money, and talent, but most importantly, she had the spotlight, and she couldn’t bear to share even a little of it with some girl a year younger than her from no particular family or relevance. But Esmé had worked. She’d already had an in with Olaf, and so she worked tirelessly to create her own little group of admirers, to build herself an immaculate reputation, to hide her own intellect because they had already assumed it was all but non-existent. That was the real way in, in the end. That was the way to convince everyone that she wasn’t a threat—that group of pretentious children, all quoting books she’d never be bothered to read. They all thought that reading was the same thing as intelligence, and who was she to correct them? So she laughed, and didn’t have to pretend to understand the literary references they made, but did have to feign ignorance when they used those infuriating quotes and allusions as a paper-thin veil to insult her right in front of her face. But as long as she wasn’t a threat, they let their guard down around her. Enough that she found out about the tattoo they all had on their ankles, enough that she identified the triad of initials that wormed its way into every conversation, enough that she could begin to formulate a plan.

Beatrice was never truly convinced, though. And so, when she showed up to their headquarters after bluffing her way through the recruitment process, Beatrice was the only one who didn’t try to fight it. Others argued that she wasn’t clever enough, but they’d been too well-trained to do so within earshot of anyone important. And so, she stayed. And so, the rivalry grew.

Two actresses with accents, both vying for attention and recognition. Both with dedicated admirers, both with a passion for theatrics even when they weren’t treading the boards. It wasn’t hard to see how rival could easily turn to friend. And, as they got older, just how naturally friend morphed into something else. Beatrice wasn’t her first, and she was almost certain she wasn’t Beatrice’s, but even so… they were never public. Never quite private, either. Attending an event at the same time but with different men on their arms, disappearing at staggered intervals but reappearing together after fixing their hair and makeup as best they could under the circumstances. Some people knew, some people didn’t. Most pretended they had no idea, because really, who would possibly accuse Beatrice Baudelaire of stooping so low?

They’d had fights, of course. Ones so vicious that Beatrice’s lions would flinch away, preferring to press themselves as far away from them as possible. They’d spit cruel, angry words—Beatrice always staying perfectly calm while Esmé screamed and threw things and lived up to exactly the kind of person everyone expected her to be. As she got older, she didn’t stop getting angry like that, but she did stop doing it by accident. She always used to think that Beatrice’s way was best, but there was certainly something to being the unpredictable one, the one people felt the need to tiptoe around, just in case they set her off.

Then she got married. Esmé attended the wedding, and Beatrice didn’t look at her once. That night, she went home with someone else, made sure she was seen doing it. She was seen doing a lot of things. Then Beatrice had a baby, and Esmé wasn’t seen interacting with her, not once. No reporter saw her hold her unofficial niece, cooing at her with an audience of the only person that mattered. No one saw their beloved Beatrice Baudelaire sneaking around, in dressing rooms and cast parties and a thousand others places she had every right to be. Even though she had other reasons for being there.

Things were still different, though. And when she had a son, Esmé wasn’t allowed to meet him. Later, after she’d broken that rule, on the rare occasion she allowed herself to think about it, she knew it was because she’d have seen too much of his father in him. Would have been the only one to say what other people must have been thinking. And so she was no longer an aunt, but she was most certainly a mistress.

Until one unusually warm autumn day, when Beatrice broke every rule and came to see her in her office. It had just been redecorated. After Beatrice left, she’d made the call to redecorate it again. Her family had been outside, but that hadn’t stopped her from pressing Esmé up against the shelf full of books she hadn’t read, from doing exactly what they always did whenever they were alone together. And then she’d asked for a favour.

It’s what they always did; sex first, difficult conversation after, using the chaos of trying to find their clothes and straighten their hair to get the other to slip up and agree. Except this time Esme didn’t. Not in the way that they always did—lying and saying they wouldn’t before conceding, tallying up another favour owed or repaid. No. This time, Esmé wasn’t being playful or pedantic. She was horrified. She remembered it so clearly, the memory coming to her unbidden for the rest of her life, over and over and over again. Perhaps, if she’d responded differently, so many people wouldn’t have died.

But her former distaste for death was what had led her to make that choice in the first place, and she knew she couldn’t have done any differently. Not for anything, or anyone. Not even for Beatrice.

So when Beatrice invited her to the opera, casually, as she was reapplying her lipstick, Esme had said no. But she hadn’t just said no. Perhaps it would have ended differently, if she’d been casual, or non-committal, or played Beatrice’s game like she usually did. But she’d been caught off guard—when she thought back on it, she assumed that had been rather the point. And she’d done what nobody ever did. She’d said no to Beatrice, and she’d meant it. She’d warned Olaf, and he hadn’t believed her. And later that month, when Beatrice had attended her garden party, she’d thought perhaps the matter was settled. Until afterwards. When the rumours began to spread about her loyalties lying elsewhere, when her lifelong friends refused to take her calls.

She was down a sugar bowl, down a reputation, down a friend and lover and, most importantly, down an organisation. She was down, and Beatrice was decidedly up. One of them In, the other Out. Just like it had been at the start, from that first day at Prufrock Prep. She’d had no choice but to prove the rumours true, or risk being alone in the City with no protection—still, she had tried to stop the opera. But Beatrice had new help, now, people to manipulate that wouldn’t question her like Esmé had, wouldn’t dare. And then there’d been a fire, which she’d had to read about in the paper the next morning, never learning who had set it, or why, or how. Even though she could guess. Had guessed. Had never been proved right, but was never proven wrong, either. And the rivalry had ended exactly the way it had begun.

Like a house on fire.

#esmé squalor #beatrice baudelaire #beasme #asoue #the sugar bowl gen #i don't know what this is #a collection of headcannons that doesn't really count as a fic???#idk #wanted to string together some Thoughts i've been having lately and it turned into this #basically the plot of a WIP i started ages ago #but condensed into narration

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onekisstotakewithme · 2 years ago

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favourite thing about BJ and Hawkeye is that you can read it as a love story, but this is a story where they love each other, but they both love Peg more.

#punnihawk #they also really love each other. if this wasn't clear. they're just both honourable men #BJ loves his marriage. Hawk also loves BJ's marriage #the solution to this is obviously a triad #bj x peg x hawkeye #bj x hawkeye #m*a*s*h #mash #mash 4077 #triad thursday

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devildom-moss · 1 year ago

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1 Year Anniversary Flash Requests

The blog is turning 1 on December 14th. Although I still have other requests to work on, I thought I would try to do a flash request event. Flash requests will be short (~500 words), focusing on one relationship (one character, ship, or triad).

I'll be opening requests all day on Thursday, December 14th (12/14 0:00 AM - 12/14 11:59 PM PST). Update: extended until Friday, 12/15 11:59 PST. Over the following two days, I will work on them and try to get as many as possible done. I'll offer 12 SFW and NSFW prompts each. The days will be separated by prompts type.

Friday, December 15th - SFW prompts

Saturday, December 16th - NSFW prompts

I will only work on/post SFW on the 15th and NSFW on the 16th. If I can’t get through them all, I’ll try to get to them between regular requests. Flash requests will be completed first come first serve. So, please don’t send in requests until the 14th PST. I'll schedule a post to let you know when the requests open.

SFW prompts

Surprise hug

Jealousy

Cooking

Rainy day

Dance

Hurt/comfort

Sleep

Stolen kiss

First date

Drunk/Tipsy

Shower/bath

Your choice

NSFW prompts

Religious

Bondage

Blood

Cosplay

Food play

Primal

Pain

Oral

Tears

Vanilla

Public

Your choice

[Rules under the cut. PLEASE READ. If you don't follow them, your request will not be fulfilled]

RULES

Requests must be formatted to include:

SFW / NSFW

Prompt and/or prompt number

Character selection

You can request:

Character x MC/reader (gn, if not specified)

Character x character x MC/reader (gn, if not specified)

Or character x character (yeah, I’ll indulge your ships)

Optional:

specify dom/sub/switch and top/bottom/verse

specify MC sex and/or gender

Other rules:

If you choose #12, prompts must be general ideas (you should be able to summarize it in less than 5 words).

Since this event is mostly romantic, no Luke requests will be allowed for this event.

I probably won't do duplicates of the requests, so if two people send in the same requests, I'll group them together and write one post.

I don't know if I'll end up writing headcanons or short fics, so I might just feel it out (I hope you don't mind).

You can submit one SFW and one NSFW request, but please send them in separately.

Any request that includes two character names must mention "MC," "reader," or "threesome" if you want character x character x mc/reader content. If not, it will be assumed to character x character.

If you can't decide, you can offer one alternative (ex: Satan or Solomon; Satan x Solomon or Mephisto; MC x Thirteen x Asmo or MC x Lucifer x Mephi; MC x Levi or Beel x Diavolo)

All other normal request rules still apply.

Examples:

NSFW. prompt 12, cockwarming. Top!MC x bottom!Diavolo

SFW. Rainy day. Barbatos and Mephistopheles.

NSFW. M!dom!bottom!MC x dom!top!Thirteen x sub!bottom!Belphie. #2 Bondage

I hope you all are looking forward to it!

If you want to leave me a tip: ko-fi

#moss update #moss 1 year event #one prompt option for every month #I know I should probably finish my other requests first but this seemed fun and I have a bit more control over what I get to write #also a lot of the regular requests are going to take a lot of time and thought but this is pretty easy

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fiction-pod-recs · 1 year ago

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For this week's Fiction Podcast rec Thursday,

The Soft-Boiled Detective

[ ID/ The cover art of The Soft-Boiled Detective. It shows a flat colored, short, black hat with a gold band going around the base of it. It is outlined in gold. The background is black with a design mirroring that of a computer chip also highlighted in gold. In the middle "The Soft-Boiled Detective" is written in all caps in white text. /End ID]

Summary as given, “In 2420, HBD, a soft-hearted detective, teams up with Tiffany, a sardonic crematory operator who is targeted by the triad, to take on an organized crime dynasty to solve the murder of his childhood friend.”

There are currently 7 episodes out, averaging around 20 minutes each. Those 7 episodes make up the first season. The casting call for season 2 was finished in August so I think it is safe to assume a second season is in production. Content warnings are available but I don’t believe there are transcripts.

I love the soft boiled detective, it is just so! I love the way each of the characters is characterized and just everything about HBD. He’s just amazing! Its almost similar to the penumbra podcast, but its more lighthearted (though it can also get kind of heavy in some places). HBD fills all the tropes for a detective even in the future and it is amazing

They do have a Tumblr: @thesoftboileddetectivepodcast

Thank you for coming to this installment of fiction podcast rec Thursday! Apologies for this one also being later (and shorter) than usual, but I’m starting to work ahead so hopefully this won’t be a problem anymore.

#the soft-boiled detective #fiction podcasts #audio drama #audio fiction #fiction podcast rec thursday #podcast recs #podcast recommendation #described #I promise i'm getting work ethic #it just takes a while #and as allways critizem and corrections are welcomed

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misscammiedawn · 2 years ago

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Charmed! 2023 Recap - (Day 2: Thursday)

Part 1 link

Part 2 (you're here)

Part 3 link

Part 4 link

Part 5 link

As before this is an edited version of my personal therapy journal tailored for public posting. All scene names and stories included are done with permission. - This entry was half written at the con and edited for internet so there will be times where the tensing refers to events in the future and in the past. Apologies for that confusion

I slept from 1:45am-7:30am, my heart raced as the narrative of a scary dream pulled me to wakefulness.

Not the kind of heart racing I was hoping for to begin my day, alas. But the timing was *perfect*. Daja had just at that moment sent a message that she was starting her route. She was less than 5 hours away.

“Come to me.” I softly commanded, extending my presence far across the distance.

My heart ached, my lips could feel the air where they desired her lips.

“I am here, waiting for you. Come to me, my dear.”

And so the countdown begun.

I took a few moments to hug my plushie familiar who goes where I goes and come down from a dream which should not have terrified as much as it did. My boyfriend, Copper, and I were to share a coffee before he went down to the museums.

I had a coffee date! It was time to change!

Charmed! Outfit 1: Sunrise's dress.

Perfect for being plugged into brainwashing devices and reunions with long distance loves ~<3

While I did that my COVID test pinged negative. I grabbed a snapshot.

I maneuvered to add my gender dysphoria protection, my “chicken cutlets” but a somft voice in my head scolded me for the effort. “This is me.” It insisted.

We're going in to the con on our own esteem then? No augmentations? Good to know.

I went to grab my badge and got the 4th one. Nath, one of my metamours, was 2 spaces ahead of me so got a brief hug. Nath is a good friend, though I tend to be shy around my metamours. A little bit of that old programming from a life before keeps insisting that any love I take from a partner is taken away from their other partners and I should feel guilty about that.

Life doesn't work that way. Love doesn't work that way. But the thought persists. That's mine to deal with. I try not to burden other people with my baggage until they ask for it.

There was not enough time to do a full reunion though as Copper and I had our coffee date–

PERSONALLY CATERED BY A PANDA!

A playful and bouncy panda billing itself as "Panda Express" which is both adorable and charming.

It was so lovely! Drip coffee with a smooth flavor that lingers pleasantly!

Happy chats and calm comfort!

There was talk of plans and recounting of the prior night’s fun, including the plane ride. Hair coloring. Hopes and fantasies and the relief of feeling Seen.

I had long awaited my moment to meet with Panda and the Triad that it belonged to. I am overjoyed that it didn't disappoint.

But it had plans, Copper had a trip and there was a convention to begin!

Everyone scattered and I thought about diving into the con--- but perhaps first some weekend prep!

I was too excited to get started and went straight to outfit and mild make-up without a super grooming session. Checked my phone for the temporary GPS of Daja's car. A countdown I could follow for her arrival. She's not here. Not even close. Not yet! I couldn't begin all the fun stuff we had prepared and negotiated. The plane scene was only the start.

I couldn't do the fun stuff, but I could do a ton of ironing to save time for when I was able to enjoy things a bit more!

While I ironed I had a big conversation with my Counterpart Puppet and Sleepyhead. I got emotional about my inconsistencies and volatile personality. Started crying for no gosh darn reason for I am a silly Kitty x.x;

Sad to say this would be the first of a ton of times my emotions caught me off-guard this weekend x.x;

Don't worry, I'm editing the meltdowns out for the public facing recaps! Y'all know where my BPD tag is <3

With ironing done there seemed to be less than an hour until the promised arrival. A morning well spent and a heart full of cheer, I moved on to greet Daja!

The original plan was to do the dommey “come to me!” moment but my heart was too explode with joy so I just glomped. Daja woke up early for me! “You’re the only Sunrise worth waking up for!”

I am squishy melty squee! So so happy!

It was a short-lived reunion as her trance card had other names on the list above mine, but she was sure to show me all the ways I would later be doomed. Mind melting VR headsets and hypnotic orange chocolate. As well as a surprise tool which we may need later.

The afternoon was fairly lowkey. I found some familiar faces in Turq and Mazirian in the common area and took some time to discuss simple things like anime and wrestling. I was introduced to some of the more flavorful acts and some of the feats of incredible strength such as picking talent up by their ankles and hammer throwing them like Miss Trunchbull. Made me think about the fact that people picking me up is one of those horseshoe things. Right on the border between ABSOLUTELY NOT red and ...please....? green...

Only one person is allowed to pick me up. I am Excalipurr.

Turq and I have a decent enough relationship as metamours. I share the same shyness with him that I work hard to conquer with Nath and Puppet. It's a shame because Turq and I have a *lot* in common. We can talk about anime/manga and focus on the classics. We enjoy wrestling, Transformers, video games and we both are quite fond of a certain lass.

Maz is someone I have had very limited contact with. We flirt online openly, which is fairly rare for me, but he is firmly in the circle of people I have marked as Trusted. He's vouched for by my Goddess, my girlfriend and is partners with one of the fleeting few connections I had with the hypnosis community in the 2000s. He's fantastic with hairplay and---

--if I may be a little self-obsessed in my self-obsessed journal? ...he makes me feel attractive. His compliments on my hair, the genuine flirting... it makes my gender dysphoria go away. I present myself as an attractive woman a lot, especially in these spaces. I don't know how he does it, but he makes my mind forget that it's something I'm presenting as. It's just something that I am.

It was nice to just enjoy some gentle social energy and try to get added to the trance card of a lovely friend who worked with me briefly at Beguiled. I also finally got to meet Glitter-Spiral who is a very important human that I have evaded meeting for 3 years worth of events.

Glitter-Spiral has not let up on complaining to Daja about the fact that I have been RIGHT THERE for all this time and we keep missing one another. It was nice to finally meet her the energy that she exudes is so bright and forceful. Sassy and flooded with color. I could see instantly why she was scheduled to teach bratting.

As I enjoyed breaking street-date and hugging GS, Turq looked at his phone and audibly responded to the message “She’s sitting right next to me and I can ask for you.” Apparently Daja asked her spouse, Turq, if she could use the room to spend some time with me.

So I rushed upstairs and we worked a little on a couple things.

Firstly, practice for the Presence class. We ran some drills on the Big Moment we had discussed as an endcap to the hypnotist side of the demonstration. Something flashy and showy that I just needed practice with and we discussed blocking for the showy end of the hypnotee segment.

I had run many of these drills over and over with Sleepy but the script was not sticking to my mind and my nerves kept me from embodying my Top Space. I kept telling myself "we'll just read the script and do it live." "Trust that performance will give you the push you need." - another case of that dysfunction where my brain cannot accurately or coherently visualize the future and so lets all that hard work and practice disintegrate.

That used to be a big issue for me when I was a coder, but that's a story for another time.

The reason I mention it is because after running those drills with Daja, I finally felt prepared. I finally think I can teach a class!

Second on the agenda was working on an amnesia suggestion which will come up later and lastly installing a kiss summon trigger– because kiss summon triggers are my thing.

Daja returned the favor by plugging me into a 20 minute custom VR session to add in a few suggestions and gently scrub perception of them away.

During the session Daja installed two suggestions, both of which I shall lose memory of the moment I finish typing, the first is that when I nuzzle her I will drop deeply into trance and the second is a return of the summoning trigger from Beguiled.

(Future Cammie edit!: I now have full memory of this. As part of my therapy I journal daily and this was written on the day. I will make notes in the text when I am typing from after the convention)

There was a point where she heavily reminded me of Goddess’ control and that no hypnosis at all would work without my collar. I was told I reached for my collar and held it as I drank in that suggestion.

The aftercare for the scene progressed and triggers were tested and promptly forgotten once more.

From here on I type from after the convention. My memories of the above session remain with me both while working on the journal, for Daja ensured I could always journal reality, no matter what my mind perceived in a hypnotic compulsion (especially if I allowed myself to forget again afterwards) - but more crucially those memories will go with me back to Minnesota.

My hope is that by typing these words they may not fade as far too many tend to.

After the wonderful scene had been completed and sweet Cammie was puddlified and programmed, we agreed that it was a good time for food. My room contained myself, Sleepyhead and Puppet. Daja's room was her and Turq. We agreed that the two rooms should be a bubble for both COVID safety and meal sharing when appropriate.

The original plan was to connect Daja and Cammie rooms so we could just Kramer in to one another’s space all weekend. I feel that may have been a benefit to all had it have happened.

Alas. We had to walk a *whole flight of stairs!* Unacceptable.

Dinner for the night was a local Italian restaurant’s pizza. For Puppet a pasta dish (which required Daja and I to run over to Oikos Prime (remote) and grab cutlery, while saying hello to my Goddess Lady Ru’etha as well as other Oikos household members Jukebox and Copper… as well as sweet Timbit, the most adorable floof in the world) Sleepy got a 14” and for Turq, Daja and I we split a 16”. Sleepyhead had AGDQ on and insisted on showing Turq the AIRBOAT run, a modded Portal run that used Half-Life 2 objects on spawn to proceed through the testing facility instead of the normal portal guns.

The meal was well enjoyed and ended with Turq heading off to mingle and Daja had some more time put aside for scenes with other partners.

I decided that if I were going to get into a headspace less puddlified and a little more casual for the night then perhaps I would need to stop wearing my Sunrise dress, which was typically used for subby bliss scenes, such as the mind melting machine.

But my Dawn outfits were booked out for later in the weekend… so I made a quick change based on my proposed Travel Day outfit:

Charmed Outfit 2: Cozy Camden Winter-wear

For after brains have had time to be melted and one wants to drink coffee and see some familiar faces for no reason beyond socializing.

Socializing, as intended, was not as simple as I had assumed it would be for the majority of the time. In fact I felt quite overwhelmed. I am told that Pre-Pandemic Con Lifestyle involved a lot of group lunches and comfortable hangouts which were more accessible to making connections and melting shy exteriors. As it stood, I had a number of people do the “hey, it’s Cammie!” Moment and I never really worked out how to capitalize on it.

My own fault, really. Shyness is a crippling affectation and I cannot always be a forceful personality capable of running movie theatres or mingling on command.

But all too soon, Daja let me know that her personal jewelry commission from one of our lovely vending friends (whose I will edit in a name for if I get permission) was finished.

The commission was a blue bottle. A blue bottle because of a conversation the two of us had from when the vendors were showing off their wares.

As I typed on the final day of our last meet-up:

We did clean up. She packed away the summoning trigger and any other things which may have been picked up. I put away the blue fire, which I hadn’t intended to become a trigger, but Daja’s eager and clever brain picked up on it without hesitation. It was placed inside a glass bottle, waiting to be revealed again.

Blue Fire. The gift of perfect obedience. A trigger I had worked with in our last meeting, based on a story from the Tammy Pierce books Daja and I each love. A finger to the forehead. A magical blue fire. Then the enchanted individual would awaken having completed a single command. Whether it be as simple as climb down a tower or something unthinkable.

We had placed the magical blue fire which could melt her mind away inside a blue bottle, a reference in itself to Ocarina of Time.

We had agreed to unbottle the fire and return it on the night of the Soiree and use it to get Daja all nice and dressed up for the event while I offered her “my heart”, knowing she would return it in time. Theoretically it could be used in mingle with another scene we had that weekend, though.

Daja wanted to break street date and get to enjoy the blue flame for the entire weekend. I told her I was willing to go ahead and do that for her, but only if she was certain she wanted it.

Now, Miss Dawn is a Fae. This has been true since the days she was simply an expression of gender euphoria in tabletop scenes and LARP. She was not going to accept a simple “I’m sure” as a method of consent.

“Please, Miss Dawn. Uncork the bottle.”

You must say it of your own volition three times. Uncoerced and unbound by a fractionated mind. Say it three times and I shall uncork the bottle and unleash the spell which effortlessly bewitches your mind and engulfs you in the flame of Pure Obedience. Knowing that once that spell takes hold and melts your mind away there will not be a single thing you will not do for me when I command you under its enchantment.

“Please, Miss Dawn. Uncork the bottle.”

I lowered myself and took her arm and kissed her fiercely. Looked her in the eyes and held her gaze. I reminded her that she would act without any memory of her actions, that she would be giving me complete control of her and doing so without a long thought was simply unwise.

“Please, Miss Dawn. Uncork the bottle.”

Utilizing a previously installed trigger I commanded her to kiss me and enjoyed the moment. My fingers laced around the bottle. If she were to ask me one more time then I would be bound by my Fae Contract to comply and control her.

Was this really? Truly? Deeply desired?

“Please, Miss Dawn…”

I gave her hair a tug and looked her in the eyes.

“Please uncork the bottle.”

As you wish, my love.

What else could a Fae say when bound by a contract? I followed the pre-negotiated scene, which had some lovely amnesia laden suggestions hidden within. Because I am a tricky Fae and if the airplane ride and the MMM scene had not already proven, Daja and I studied for this test and had written a dissertation on how to make these scenes work.

I am also editorializing a little bit because I have a broken brain that doesn’t remember things and imagines things between the gaps.

“Hand me the bottle, my dear.”

And it was at this point, Daja learned that her arms were hanging loose at her side. She couldn’t reach up. She couldn’t unclasp it. If she couldn’t unclasp it she couldn’t hand it to me. If she couldn’t hand it to me, she couldn’t receive my gift of Perfect Obedience.

Daja noted her inability and I teased the chain. “I need you to offer it to me, my dear.”, my honey sweet voice taunting with my knowledge that she simply could not obey.

“Please, Miss Dawn. Please.”

Energy flowed between the pair of us and the Perfect Obedience trigger was tested. A finger to the forehead and Daja’s mind was set ablaze by blue fire. Her eyelids rolled up so beautifully and she would do *anything* I asked.

I am particularly proud of the two times I was able to show it off for an audience.

With the Obedience trigger installed and some more fun had, it was time to prepare for the morning. We were to go to Nath’s class, Daja and Tenn’s and then mine.

In order to go to mine we needed to have me ready to spend the night. So I masked up and rushed back to my room to perform the Walk Of Shame. Which I find lovely and amusing, given Nothing Was Going To Happen. But I got my pyjamas and tomorrow’s outfit and transported them to Daja’s room so I could Spend The Night. <3

I was still a lil’ bit overwhelmed and frazzled and made some silly mistakes like forgetting(?) my Precious. Precious is supposed to go with me and I forgot her!

It’s okay though. Miss had Faithful, Precious’ twin, and let me hug him while I slept…

And curled up with Miss and Faithful… I did sleep.

Part 3 link

#charmed recaps #hypnosis #hypnokink #charmed 2023 #hypnocons

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apocalypticavolition · 1 year ago

Text

Let's Play Book of Hours! Up & In

Monday April 20th

In my dreams, the Wood fell away to stranger places, closer to Nowhere. I wandered empty landscapes, searching for a way to consciousness but finding none. When it seemed there was no way left to go but down past the threshold of the abyss, a terrible wind picked me up and carried me away, presenting me with gray robes. Whispering in my ear, the breeze said that Solomon Husher had worn these when first he came to the library. I knew at once upon waking what I must do. It may be some time before I return; I dare not let this journal leave the library.

Friday April 24th

I have received a true boon. A week on the wilderness, fasting, camping under the stars, sacrificing some rabbits for nothing else was on hand, and it has paid off. In the hollow of a tree, I found a strange package. Clearly it had meant to be sent in the post, but how it had wound up in the wilderness I cannot fathom. I shall take to battle and cut it open tomorrow in a fashion deserving of the belongings of the great Solomon Husher. Tonight I shall bathe and thus cleanse myself in preparation.

Saturday April 25th

I don't want to talk about it. What on Earth was someone's laundry basket doing upon the moors?

Sunday April 26th

Between my excursions for the past week and yesterday's rather depressing debacle, I decided to spend today at The Sweet Bones, helping the proprietor clean the back storage area. I'm not sure what were in the boxes there but I imagine that it at least belongs.

Monday April 27th

I turned my attention today to one of the other two manuscripts that had been left behind in the Keeper's Lodge. This one was much more recent, written within my own lifetime. Again, much of my day was dedicated merely to preparing a new cover that I might be able to recognize it on sight. Due to its connection to the Lantern-light of Glory, I elected for a charming yellow. It was The Locksmith's Dream: a Light through the Keyhole" by Teresa Galmier. If only her examination of parallels in the mystic dreams of artisans had been available to me before, I might have realized my own dream was building to disappointment. Alas, hindsight is everything.

Tuesday April 28th

I finished my cataloguing of what had been left in the Keeper's Lodge with the third book, which was a little older as it belonged to the Curia period. That said, it is an updated version of an older work: Kerisham's heavily censored manuscript on The Three and the Three. It describes operations of the Chancel and the Calyptra, two triads of Hours with subtle, far-reaching powers and responsibilities, though most of the original's juiciest details have been excised for political reasons. Nonetheless, I suspect that there are secrets that might be revealed by Moon-light or similar machinations.

Wednesday April 29th

I spent a good deal of time at The Sweet Bones today. The miners are warming up to me a little, but I soon concluded that none of them were up to the task of helping me repair the Watchman's Tower. I barely know what I'm doing; architecture is far too mundane an art to be recorded in my journal. In the end, I posted a notice that I was hoping for assistance. I must make progress quickly; people in the pub were complaining about the prime minister's plan to increase taxes to pay for defense. War comes.

Thursday April 30th

Though I still have had no reply to my advertisement (I checked at breakfast and dinner), I have done what surveying of the top floor of the tower I can. My work here is sadly quite limited: a leak developed in these past seven years and the ceiling of the first floor study is sagging noticeably. I dare not wander freely for fear of plummeting back down! Thus, the various covered instruments - and they are immense - remain a mystery to me, though I have my hopes based on the large windows. All I've been able to do so far is determine that the leak definitely isn't directly above the door to the stairs.

Friday May 1st

I have had luck at last! This morning at The Sweet Bones I met Thomas, a traveling performer of sorts. Though these days he makes his living traveling the Isles and getting tips in pubs and on street corners, he explained that he had once been part of an orchestra. It seems he fell out of favor after getting into a fight with the conductor shortly before a performance; something about a woman. Though it has been some years since Thomas has visited the capital or other large cities, he remembers well the theaters he once toured. He says he enjoyed wandering the backstage and seeing how the fascinating architecture of large buildings was held up from within. I hired him at once.

We have spent most of the day laboring away upstairs, first testing the floor with the safety of a second pair of eyes and then moving a ladder about to gain access to the roof. We patched several holes and will be ready to continue tomorrow.

Saturday May 2nd

Another busy day. We finished our survey of the roof and I think we've taken care of everything. I suppose there's no way to be certain until it rains. We then spent the day ripping out the damaged wood. Neither one of us is much good at this, but I suppose I am only going to get better.

Sunday May 3rd

Much too tired to keep writing. Lugging the new wood up the stairs quite exhausted me. We are done though.

Monday May 4th

Today I was finally able to appreciate the Observatory. Baron Silence had it constructed just in time for the passage of the Great Comet of 1577. I nearly squealed in excitement when I pulled away the massive sheet covering the telescope and got to enjoy it in its full glory. (Later I would use the sheet to wrap up the laundry basket I found on the moors that I might never be taunted by it again.)

My regret is that today was a little too cloudy for any sustained observations. I am certain that with a fuller understanding of the stars my progress may make leaps and bounds. I may even be able to create something, if I could deduce the recipes. For now I contented myself with a brief examination of the waxing moon, which was visible for an hour after sunset before disappearing behind the sky.

Tuesday May 5th

I returned to The Sweet Bones once again in the hopes of finding good jobs to do. Until the Trust sends me another annual stipend, I fear that I am going to be struggling making ends meet.

Wednesday May 6th

I examined the door on the far side of the Cloistered Garden today. It is covered in many strange sigils and signs that my diary has few notes upon; I was always a man of more conservative tastes when it came to painting. Until I understand them, I dare not open the door, for what little I can recognize carries a warning against disturbing the sanctity of the library. I went down to the pub again to place another advertisement.

Thursday May 7th

Success! Today I met Olivia, an experimental painter of some sort. She showed me her catalog and frankly I'm not certain if she isn't a bit deranged, but her work has been displayed at several minor exhibitions in the isles, so clearly someone appreciates it even if it's not to my tastes. In truth I'm uncertain if she'll be able to make any headway at all, but she was quite enthusiastic to hear that I was the new librarian. She'd expected she'd be painting the library from afar, but I've agreed to let her spend some time on the premises if she makes serious progress - and while there is little of the library to show off, I gave her a tour of Hush House to get started. She promised to return Saturday and begin in earnest.

Friday May 8th

I spent today cataloging one of the books I found in the Watchman's Tower. Another work of Forge, I think.

Saturday May 9th

Olivia returned today. She spent the day in the garden asking me strange questions. I wonder if there is more to her than there seems or if she simply is so ignorant of the occult that she has no fear of asking preposterous questions. She wanted to know the age of the rooms, whether they had ever been built in a different fashion, what I thought the house might look like if the Watchman's Tower had never been built, and so on.

Sunday May 10th

Unfortunately, I spent the day indisposed. I think I caught a cold passing around the village. I hope Olivia didn't catch it, but I saw no sign of her.

Tuesday May 12th

My fever broke today. Still no sign of Olivia. I spent the time cataloging The Book of the Centipede. Unlike most of the books I've catalogued so far, this one is written in Greek. I suspect it pertains to that strangest of Principles: Rose, which contains all hopes and possibilities within.

Wednesday May 13th

Olivia returned. As I feared, she'd caught ill and needed slightly longer to recover. I left her to her work while working on another book from the Curia period, which I suspect might refine my Knock, that principal which opens and allows passage. Serendipitously, Olivia revealed the fruits of her labor: still feeling a bit ill, she elected to paint the hall doors and all the sigils on them, entirely obscuring them. I was uncertain, but she passed through the doorway without incident. I will check on her tomorrow.

Thursday May 14th

Olivia was fine. Finally able to enter the Entrance Hall, I spent today appreciating the glorious collection of statuary present. Much of the history of this library is captured within. Two busts of the Dewulfs - Hendrick and Valentine, first and last of the barons. A full statue of the first Eva, Lady de Braose who donated generously to the Abbey in the thirteenth century, an odd statue of the protector of the House Lady Rowena (none have ever seen her, but either she is real or someone is pretending to be her through St. Rhonwen's Trust), and a truly ancient bust from the Dawn labeled "Sister". Two of the abbots: the early Thomas and the later Geffrey, who built a tower to house a Jewish surgeon. Another bust, St Melancthe, the alchemist, inscribed "The cross died not but passed within."

There are other wonders here as well. A homey fireplace for visitors to warm themselves beside as they put on leather gloves and slippers, soothing paintings of trees, the crook Authority (no doubt left behind by the Suppression Bureau), and gloomier paintings too. One is of the beach at high tide, the other is called "The Boy Prays" but I see no boy in the picture and nothing resembling prayer. Finally, an ancient wood sits over the fire. I cannot imagine simply burning it however.

Friday May 15th

Truly I must be a fool. Once again I have had a strange dream brought by the winds. They led me down into the depths of the Earth, following after the Cross, so far down that the caves around me became like shifting seas with every step uncertain. They coiled around themselves and spiraled down and down and down. I shall set out on the moors at once.

Wednesday May 20th

I returned from my excursion late today. I circled the island many times, perhaps seven times seven, eating only bread and drinking only water. I followed the winds as they blew me, listening in to the rumors of war they foretold. On my last circle, my foot stumbled and I nearly fell headfirst into a little pit in the earth. I reached in and pulled out this single viper's egg. I am still far too low on resources to have a pet at the moment, but I think I shall hatch it once I can.

#let's play #book of hours

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