#black smoke assimilation

[captain-habit]

LES FRICTION || BLACK SMOKE ASSIMILATION

There in the fade I remember

Ivory snow in December

There we worshipped fire

Now we are embers

#les friction #black smoke assimilation #the end of the beginning #music #musiic #Spotify #the newest album is fantastic

[ickadori]

++ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 — 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

↳ Choso is still unfamiliar with the more human way of doing things, but he is trying, so you can’t fault him too much when his actions resemble that of a curse rather than a human. VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

[cws] yandere. stalking. chikan. mild violence. fem reader. i’ve taken creative liberties and made it so that choso can choose when he’s visible to humans thanks to being half-curse, half-human :3 reader is american.

Right and wrong is not something that Choso concerns himself with - he simply does what he pleases.

It’s not in the sense of him thinking that he’s above human laws (he is) and can therefore ignore them, but rather that he’s not familiar with them.

Yuji has told him time and time again about what is and is not acceptable, but it just hasn’t clicked in his head yet. In the rare times that he shows himself to humans, he always finds himself breaking some type of rule, law, or societal norm, as Yuji tells him.

“You can’t walk so close to people, Choso - they’ll think you’re a pervert or something!”

“I don’t care if she smelt good - you can’t sniff her like a dog!”

“Put your dick away! That’s not a bathroom! You can’t piss there!”

“No, Choso! You can’t kill somebody just because the line is too long!”

Humans were bound by so many rules, it was annoying. Choso found himself staying hidden more often than not, choosing to observe the people around him rather than taking more ‘lessons on humanity’ from his younger brother—Yuji was a big help, don’t get him wrong, but Choso didn’t feel right taking lessons from his younger sibling. Choso was the oldest, the one meant to protect and teach his younger brothers (something he had failed to do on two occasions, as he so painfully remembers every day), and if he didn’t know it, then it was his duty to learn it on his own.

The regular people of Japan, the ones who were terribly unfit to defend themselves (it’d be a hassle trying to protect them - he’s glad they’re not his siblings), were incredibly boring. Majority of them only worked and slept, some occasionally getting drunk at some hole-in-the-wall bar before stumbling home and passing out in the living room.

Choso preferred watching the not-so-regular people of Japan, the ones who led a life that Yuji always turned his nose up at, but Choso didn’t think they were so bad. They do what they want, what’s so wrong with that, he always asked. They didn’t let rules shape their actions or let laws turn them into a completely different person - they were simply them, and Choso found it admirable, in a way.

He watched men cloaked in black skulk around alleyways looking for a target to rob, women dressed in skimpy clothing slipping into cars only to slip out a few moments later with blood on their cleavage, teenagers walking into stores with no money yet walking out with pockets stuffed full of snacks and drinks, men in suits exchanging briefcases full of drugs and money, truck drivers transporting living, breathing humans adorned in chains - the dregs of society as so many called them.

He watched them sparingly, only when he grew bored of the mundane lives of everyone else, everyone else except for you, of course.

Choso had been watching you ever since he first began this poor attempt to assimilate into Yuji’s world. You lived a boring, plain, safe life, but he found himself interested nonetheless. You were an office worker, one with a funny accent that he learned was American. You liked to read and occasionally write, and you went on walks in the park on the weekend and took pictures of the scenery. You didn’t drink and you didn’t smoke but all your friends did. You had a library card that you lost on a monthly basis. You had an unhealthy addiction to carbonated drinks. You hated going to the dentist. You avoided stepping on the cracks in sidewalks. You desperately wanted a pet but your lease forbade you from getting one.

These were the boring, mundane details of your life. Nothing exciting, nothing noteworthy, and yet Choso had memorized it all.

You were on your way home from work now, unaware of Choso’s presence behind you. He was close - close enough to breathe in the scent of your signature perfume and take a peek down the top of your button down. Even your bra was boring, a dull gray that covered you fully, and an annoyed pout formed on his face before he turned his attention to the phone in your hand.

You were checking your banking account, likely making sure that you had enough for your daily sweet treat and tea from your favorite shop. It turns out that you don’t have enough, but he already knew that. You didn’t get paid until tomorrow, and you had used the last bit of your money on a recurring subscription that you had forgotten to cancel.

You sigh under your breath before dropping your phone into your purse, and Choso falls into step beside you, the rest of the journey to the train station going by uneventfully, as usual.

~

It’s a new day, and the same routine.

There’s a couple that steps onto the train before the both of you, their hands intertwined and the woman’s head nuzzled against the man's arm. Physical affection was another thing that Choso wasn’t familiar with.

Even if majority of his life hadn’t been spent locked away in a sealed vial, it wasn’t in his nature to be gentle with his hands - they were tools to protect what was dearest to him, and the only way he knew how to do that was to kill whatever threatened what was closest to him.

Although he wasn’t sure if you would appreciate that in this moment - you were squeamish when it came to blood, funnily enough, and he doubted he could kill the man standing behind you without making a mess.

“Tch.” Choso hovers near you, his eyes taking in the scene. You’re on your morning commute to work, dressed in the white button down he watched you press this morning, and a black pencil skirt that stuck to you like glue - it had been amusing watching you shimmy into it, stumbling around your room and cursing as you threw worried glances at the digital clock on your nightstand.

You were dressed identical to every other woman on this train -your hair was even in a similar updo- and yet the man—the pervert as Yuji would have called him—had singled you out in the overcrowded place. He stood behind you, closely, and Choso leaned to peer around your shoulder, lip lifting in annoyance when he sees the man’s crotch pushed against the swell of your ass.

The act itself doesn’t bother him, but rather that you’re the one the man chose to enact it on. He likely wouldn’t have batted an eye had the man chosen one of the other women to feel on, but the sight of someone touching you had never failed to invoke a feeling of intense hatred in Choso.

He didn’t like it, and he made it known when he moved to stand behind the man. He settled a heavy on his shoulder, his energy dark, thick and heavy as it nearly filled all the corners of the train car - an embodiment of the anger swirling in his gut. The man jolts and looks back over his shoulder, seeing nothing but perhaps a murky, dark substance. His hand grips hard, and the crunch that sounds followed by the pained wail doesn’t do much to quell that anger.

He had touched you, someone that Choso was closely coming to regard as important, and there was only one way that could right this wrong, but that would have to wait until the number of people around were low. Too many eyes were never good, and Choso had studied humans enough to know that their first instinct was to run to the police when they saw a body drop before their eyes.

With a shove to the side, the man is thrown halfway across the car, and a cacophony of shouts sound off as he goes tumbling. You spin around, eyebrows pulled together and mouth set in an angry line, and Choso feels that strange human urge to comfort surge forth.

You cast a glare to the man, your hands moving to hitch your bag higher up your shoulder, and you keep your back to the door, likely in an attempt to keep that from happening again…what’s it called again? He’s seen this scenario play out before in one of Yuji’s books that he tries and fails to keep a secret.

Ch…chi…chikan, train molestation.

His brother is a pervert, without a doubt, but he supposes that works in his favor. The magazine had piqued his interest, firstly because Yuji had gone to great lengths to stuff it into the back of his closet underneath a set of his college textbooks, and secondly because it housed a taboo of society, and the taboo is what interested Choso these days.

He had read it in its entirety, and then had tried to witness it himself. He had spent hours hanging around the station, going in and out of cars and maneuvering between bodies to try and catch a glimpse of the depraved act, yet he came up with nothing, until today that is.

And what a letdown that had been.

His mouth pulls down at the sides, and he gives you a slow once over. He starts at neatly done hair, moves down to sculpted brows that frame glossy eyes, then to a nose that he wouldn’t mind feeling against his own, and down to a set of lips that he finds himself thinking about more and more these days.

He goes further down, down to the way your shirt stretches across your breasts, the buttons straining just a bit, and he tilts his head to the side, a new type of feeling now festering in the pit of his stomach.

Your hands clasp together in front of you, the movement forcing your chest to jut out a bit more, and when the train curves around a bend, Choso lets gravity move him closer to you, head angled down. You tense just a bit, and your senses must be a bit better than everyone else’s, or maybe he’s just doing a poor job at concentrating on concealing himself.

You push yourself a bit further into the corner, and he further crowds you into it, a spark of excitement running up his spine — prey. That’s what you remind him of in this moment as you cower in the corner from a threat you can’t see. He wants to sink his teeth into you—no, his hands. He wants to touch you and squeeze you all over, sink his fingers into soft flesh and leave his mark behind.

So he does.

Tentatively, at first.

The tips of his fingers hover near your cheek, casting a shadow that you’re unable to see, and his breathing grows labored when he finally touches you - it’s shocking, literally. You jump as you feel it, and Choso frowns. He hasn’t learned about the grand thing called static, so in his mind, his mind that was locked away and kept rudimentary for so long, this shock upon first contact signified something monumental…something visceral.

You press further against the wall, brows furrowing as your hand moves up to rub at your cheek, and Choso moves down to the slope of your neck, fingers running along the throbbing vein, racing pulse, and then he’s rubbing at your collarbones. You’re warm just like him, but where he’s hard you’re soft - soft, doughy, fragile.

His hands settle on your breasts, one in each palm, and he squeezes. Oh. You frown deeper, your eyes dropping to where his hands are groping, but you don’t see. He’s right up on you now, head angled down and jaw slack as he tests the weight in his hands - they’re a nice size, a good size. Your nipples get hard under his hand, and he rubs against it with his thumb - your bra is so thin.

He thinks back to that book and what he had read in it, images of the debauchery floating to the front of his mind, and his mouth runs dry at the thought of doing those things to you. He had never thought about sexual gratification, much less craved it, but he felt as if he had been subconsciously seeking it out all his life and he had finally found it.

His breath is practically coming out in pants, matching the rapid thumps of his heart. He traps your nipples between his fingers and squeezes. You suck in a sharp breath of air, eyes darting around at the other passengers who don’t pay you much attention - they’re all warily looking at the man still moaning in pain as he sags in a corner and clutches at his shoulder.

Choso squeezes again, and he knows it’ll feel better if he was touching you skin on skin, but he’s certain you wouldn’t take kindly to him scattering your shirt buttons all over the floor of the train and leaving your bra in tatters so he pushes that thought away for later - maybe for when you’re curled under your blankets at night and in a deep, deep sleep.

The maddening ache in his pants would have taken him by surprise a few months ago, but Choso has gotten pretty acquainted with his body with the help of a few snagged medical books and Yuji’s laptop (which was still an enigma to Choso at times).

Both of his hands leave your breasts to instead push at his pants, the baggy material easily slipping down toned, lean thighs until they pool around his booted ankles.

His cock is pale but noticeably darker at the tip, and there’s a long, prominent vein that starts at the center of his shaft and disappears into black, coily pubes. His cock has never been able to stand up properly, weighted down by the sheer size, so it hangs between his thighs, thick and heavy, identical to his desire for you.

He wraps a hand around his turgid length, hissing through his teeth as he does, and pushes closer. You don’t move a muscle, standing stock-still as you try and fail to make sense of all these ‘phantom’ sensations.

If they were able, he’s sure your knuckles would have long since turned white with how hard you’re clutching onto the purse that’s now cradled against your chest. Your thighs shift together, inadvertently making your skirt rise a bit, heels noisily clinking against the platform of the car as you shuffle, and Choso spreads his legs and bends at the knees, a heaving breath leaving him as he slots his cock right through the opening between your thighs that you so graciously left.

The tights clinging to your thighs are smooth and silky, and coupled with the heat of your skin that perforates through, Choso feels himself jerk and twitch at the feeling. It’s leagues better than his hand, and his mind is already spinning at the thought of how you’ll feel on the inside.

His hand comes down heavy against the door beside your head, and you flinch as your head whips to the side to look, eyebrows furrowing when you notice the large handprint on the glass. His other hand curls around the pole to the left of you, hand gripping it so tight that he can feel the steel denting underneath his grip, and he rocks his hips, slowly.

Warm, soft, squishy, the adjectives flit through his mind one after the other, a new one coming with each push of his cock between your thighs. He’s hot all over, skin burning and strands of black plastering themselves to his damp face. His balls are tight, and his left eye twitches when a soft sound escapes your mouth, a look of bewilderment on your face.

He comes, hard. His orgasm locks all his muscles up and makes his teeth snap together so hard they nearly shatter. His eyes roll back, the pole caves in under the pressure of his grip, the window beside your head shatters as his hand goes through it, and he makes a split second decision to show himself in an effort to shield you from the hail of glass.

Choso can nearly see the scream of fright that gets caught in your throat at his sudden appearance, and a grin that lacks remorse twists onto his lips. Your bugged eyes slowly trail down, and the scream finally un-lodges itself when you catch sight of his softening length and the mess it’s left on your clothing.

Choso hides himself once again and steps off at the next station as he fixes his clothing. You stumble off as well, frantically heading towards the security booth as your eyes dart around to catch sight of him.

Soon, he thinks.

He’d let you see him again soon enough.

#choso x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

[salaciousdoll]

Trading Places- Multi JJK Men

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ Pairings : Geto, Gojo, Sukuna, Toji, Hiromi, and Nanami x Cloned! Fem!reader

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ Encapsulation : if she won’t remove herself, you’ll do it

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ Tw : Smut, Dacryphilla, Somnophillia, Dub-Con, Dark!content, vi0lence, G0re( just a little), cigarette smoking, latex gloves used for pussy inspection, anal play, pet names, pussy eating, dick sucking, plot with smut, story turned to HC’s, double penetration, Gojo and Geto are bi-sexual here, mxm( just in geto/ Gojo part), squirting, split-tongue Sukuna, assimilating to the pass wife life, clone mention, dr*g mentions( only in the backstory), lube use, house wife reader, chubby reader hint, just overall smutty headcannons.

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ WC : 4.5k

18+ Barbies Allowed

This idea was in my mind for some time, but I thank @toji-bunny-girl for coming to me for her kinktober collab, it was a honor to join

You envied your doppelgänger or should you say “ clone”. She had everything you desired and more. She had seven men fawning over her and obeying at her feet so why couldn’t you have that. Was it because of her smile? Was it because the way her feet graced the earth’s surface so celestially?

She physically and emotionally irks you because she got the life that you deserved. You were an complete bitch to everyone. You had a reason, it was your own reason too. Whether it was extreme or simple, it’s the reason behind your atrocious behavior towards everyone.

You manipulated a lot of people in order to get your way so manipulating her and her men will be as easy as cutting a piece of pie . Maybe you should hang her organs as Halloween decorations in front of their lawn, but that would be too extreme. You couldn’t do that to the “nicest woman” you have ever seen from a distance. You constantly watched her and you’re doing it now while she walked with a polka dot sundress on with black flats surrounding her feet. God! Did she have terrible taste in clothing, it was almost pitiful to see her dress like a common woman in the 1950s era. She radiates housewife energy and you hoped once you took her place, you didn’t have to become a housewife like her. Deep down you know that the thought is ludacris on your end.

They liked her for what exactly? What did she have that you didn’t have? You’ll never get the answer to that question. But never say never right.

You followed her into her garden in the green field expressing itself with all types of flowers, dandelions, and other garden accessories. You finally got her in your grasp and you weren’t gonna miss this opportunity, “ Why have you been following me?”

To say you were shocked was an understatement, but it never displayed as an expression on your face. You smirked at the back of her head before pulling your hoodie off your head, “ I think you know why, sweetie.”

She quickly turned around when she heard a voice similar to hers, gasping loudly at the sight of you, “ Whatever joke or prank this is, this isn’t funny because why do you have a mask of my face?” God! She was a classy Bimbo! You noted that thought to yourself.

You rolled your eyes stepping towards her in your own pair of shoes/heels/ boots, “ Let’s skip the dumbness and theatrics, k’? I want your life. Your lifestyle but you could keep the shitty fashion statement you got going on. Not my style especially with the bad eyelashes and liner you have on. Now we could do this the easy or hard way? I’ll be a good person today and let you choose.”

“ Wait what?! Why are you doing this? I didn’t do anything to anyo-”, you snapped her chin up allowing her to bite her tongue with a cry of pain slipping out her pretty-pouty lips. You didn’t care how much she looked at you with innocence dancing in her eyes with bliss, she took everything from you and you were about to take it right back while making her life a living hell.

A vicious grin crossed your lips, “ don’t act innocent, y/n or should I call you your real name: Stephanie. You are supposed to be in my spot and you know that. Don’t worry I’ll take care of you and then I get my life back. I’m supposed to be in your shoes, not these. You are supposed to be in mine yet you just had to switch places with me when the scientist was about to do his final experiment.”

You continued on speaking, circling around her shaking body, “ you have brought nothing but terror and agony in my life all because you managed to fool the scientist after giving me a drug, which almost took away my ability to speak, yet you didn’t care, so I don’t care about this.” You grabbed the scissors from the bench she sat them on, pointing towards her neck, “ Strip, Now!”

Her faint cries and pleads were going in one ear and out the other. You had no time to spare her sympathy as you watched her look around while stripping out of her clothes, “ Now hon I want you to tell me what you do at this house, want every detail.”

She didn’t want to speak or look at you but she had no choice especially with the scissors pointing to the vein on her neck. You hated that she looked exactly like you, it’s like you’re killing yourself.

She told you everything that she does around the house and what her interests are. She was confused about the question until she caught on to the way you were smirking at her, “ I’ll see you in hell maybe, who knows.” You moved the clothes out of the way before slashing her throat. The slash of her throat was almost too satisfying to you. You loved the look of panic and hopelessness reflecting in her eyes like the moonlight reflecting on your skin on a warm summer night. She was playing dumb until the very end. You respected her for it, honestly.

The blood looked so good on her skin complexion, you honestly thought about eating her but you would never be into cannibalism. Maybe if she wasn’t such a backstabbing ass bitch, you two would have gotten along. Maybe.

Her body finally went limp and now you had to bury her right beneath the soils of your feet. What a beautiful garden with a new accessory being added to complete the garden.

After an hour, you were done burying her heavy body in the ground of her garden. The dirt under your fingernails irked you, maybe the vision of dirt just irked you or maybe you needed a shower. So you managed to get into her clothes, fixing your hair like hers in whatever hairstyle you had.

You got off your knees and put the vase she had outside with her. You guessed she was getting some more things from the house when she finally caught you stalking her, hence why the flower vase was here already.

Dusting off your knees was the easy part but dealing with seven different husbands will not be so easy especially when you just killed their wife. Oh well, may she rest in peace.

You walked to the house with the basket of garden tools setting them down by the rest of the tools lined up on the little stand just outside the back door of the house. You were amazed at how organized she was. You were also amazed at how big this house was. I mean there are seven of them here, including her of course, so you felt this house size was valid until you heard her name being called by someone with a deep voice.

“ Step?! Babe, we’re home.”, you swore you were about to piss yourself because he and the others were home before you got to wash your hands of dirt and the blood of your enemy.

You took a deep breath before opening the sliding door, taking off your shoes before walking to the sink, “ Uh, I’ll be right there baby.”

Gojo was highly confused because “you” always called him babe or sato, not baby. That was for Nanami. He thought you must’ve been tired so you mixed them up. He looked around at the others and knew they felt something was off from the way half of their facial expressions showed confusion.

You were practically scrubbing bits of her blood off since you knew their footsteps were near you, “princess, I missed you so much, why didn’t you greet us at the door like you usually do.” That was a different voice and you couldn’t make out who it belonged to. This was starting to get frustrating but you had to keep your composure since they were now entering the kitchen standing behind you in a line, waiting for your answer.

“ I’m sorry, I just didn’t get the time to since I just came back from gardening, would you like your kisses now.”, you say looking down at yourself to make sure not an inch of blood was shown on your glistening wet skin.

You turned around and put an ample smile on your face. You walked towards the blonde man you were quite fond of since you’ve been following their other wife around.

You leaned to kiss him on the cheek, slowly and passionately savoring this moment. Meanwhile they were all thinking the same thing, why are “you” kissing them so sensual like this? You never kissed them like this: affectionate and passionate. You always looked tired too, right now, you didn’t look tired at all. There weren’t any deep bags under your eyes that weren’t genetic so that means you were sleeping right?

After you finished kissing every last one of them on their cheek, you walked away with a wide grin on your face. You were gonna love this and you were right.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Toji:

Toji loves it when his wife gives him a blow job after a long day. She always willingly got on her knees whenever he came home before or last of the men. He always made it his mission to come first or last served. The feeling of “your” warm lips wrapping around his cock was like feeling the mild air hit you in the grocery store on a cold, icy day in the winter. So imagine his confusion when you’re not already waiting on him with your knees on the bed. He was confused but then thought his wife was trying to be a brat, so he had no choice but to fuck your throat.

Toji grinned at you like a cashmere cat waiting for the chance to get his food. He took in your lips that were covered in his pre-cum mixed with your saliva. The only difference you could tell from lipgloss is that it doesn’t have the glitter that embodies the little tube you always used.

Your freshly manicured nails grabbed his cock with both hands prior to licking from his balls to the tip of his cock. You swirled your thick tongue around his tip, taking him into your mouth inch by inch, wetting his dick with your saliva even more. For the parts you couldn’t fit into your mouth you stroked with both hands to occupy his pleasure, “ Atta girl! You’re taking my cock in your throat so good, the best I've ever seen you do. Fuck!”

You wanted to smile but you couldn’t do how wide your mouth was stretched and how full it was of his cock. Spit dropped down the veins of his cock, onto your hands and down to his big breeding balls. The sound of your dick sucking was so perfect to him. The way you hollow your cheeks was pristine as well. “You've” gotten so much better over these past few weeks and he wondered why. He was about to ask but you took one hand off his cock to massage his balls while his dick was still lodged in his throat, “ Holy fuck! You're such a little slut, wanna record ya’ can I, my pretty little princess? Hmm?”

When you hummed, he had no choice, he almost nutted from the vibrations dancing along his thick cock he fumbled with his phone, finally turning the flash on recording you with low groans in the background. His groans to be exact. He was about to cum, so he was restraining himself. This was the best head he’s gotten, so he had to capture the moment.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Gojo & Geto:

Geto and Gojo were two people that were the same but polar opposites. You couldn’t explain it well because it’s only been a few weeks since you took her out. Their wife always indulge with them during sexual moments. She either likes to watch them kiss or watch them fuck before joining. You couldn’t blame her because when they tied your arms up and told you to sit on the bed and wait for instructions, you were confused until you saw them kissing each other. That’s when you knew she liked to watch them and so did you, joining them later.

“ Come on, pretty baby, you can hold on, Gojo’s taking my dick in his mouth, so why can’t you take him inside of your warm pussy? Hmm?”, Geto taunts, pulling his hips back and forth fucking into Gojo mouth on the side of your head as you lay underneath Gojo getting spilt in half by his long cock, he lacked in the grith area and you honestly didn’t mind since it was gonna be much harder for him to fuck you espciallyif you ain’t use to dick like that.

He was too big to fit inside you and they always smiled at how you can’t take either of them, not even Toji inside of your pussy. Mouth is a different story, Toji learned the other day and the others didn’t, but they will eventually know.

You felt Gojo thrusting his cock deeper into making you scream out, earning a light slap on the face from geto, shutting you up as your face turned into a shock expression, only going back to the moral lewd look when Gojo moans on Geto’s cock brought all three of you pleasure. Pleasure for Gojo since you tighten around his cock with your pretty walls meanwhile geto moaned from the vibrations upon his thick cock as he face fucked one of his lovers. He loved having sex with two of his lovers and it wasn’t gonna change, especially from the way you have Gojo panting and moaning on his cock.

Gojo couldn’t help but to roll his eyes to the back when you tried to lift your hips to fit more of him inside of you. You were hungry for his cock and he loved it. He couldn’t wait to do more with you, same as Geto, who now had his long hair sticking to his forehead while his head was tilted back, face screwed in pleasure. Gojo and geto never had this much fun before, it was like you were a different person.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Sukuna:

Sukuna was something different. The way his tattoos littered his body was a clear warning to you. You didn’t understand why that should be a warning because he’s just like everyone else right. He’ll treat you nice just like he’s been over these past few weeks, especially when you made dinner for all of them every now and then, so why is the voice in your head kept screaming warnings? It was annoying you and you wanted to ignore it, so you did. Oh, how much of a mistake that was.

“ kuna’, I don’t think I can hold on, please!”, You moaned as his split tongue teased your clit over and over in different directions. It was becoming too much for you. His fingers were even too much for you.

He laughed against your pussywhile looking up at you, “ You should know this now, my pretty dove, I don’t stop on your account. If I want to keep tasting my pussy that’s what I’m gonna do. Now, shut the hell up and take it before I give you something more iniquitous to cry and bitch about.” You gasped at his tongue flicking back over your clit even faster now and at the type of wording he chose. Was he always this vicious, damn I guess you underestimated her and them, her in general given that she took this much tongue and dick from these beautiful men every other day. You thought they, including her, were vanilla/ simple, you thought wrong.

Sukuna laughs caused waves on your pussy and you whimpered at the feeling. This felt too real and good. As soon as you got out of the shower which was 30 minutes ago, he pushed you on the bed and started devouring you, nonstop. you pushed your hips into his feeling his fingers reached deeper into you making you squirt out clear liquid at the jamming of his fingers at your g-spot. He ate pussy like a strayed fat man during the eating contest at the pumpkin fair. He watched as your body shook and loved it.

Your love handles/ hips along with your thighs were his favorite thing to grab as he ate you out. The key part he noticed is that you squirted on his face and chest. He didn’t mind since he kept eating you out, it just never happened before. Your body raised up in an acute angle as you grabbed his pink hair tightly in your pretty little hands, making him groan from the pain. His split tongue circled your clit counter clockwise and clockwise causing you to orgasm from the impact of his fingers and tongue. You orgasmed two times already and this was your third one he managed to pull from you. Sukuna was now sucking on your clit as he slowly took his fingers out of your soaking pussy. You screamed at the movement of him sucking on your clit after abusing it with his tongues.

My pretty girl, shaking like a warm starter-up truck in the winter, he thought. He also thought you looked different since there were tears in your eyes. You never cried until now. He studied you as you tried to move your body away from you while you squirt on his face nonstop with tears flowing down your eyes. He studied you until he came up with a conclusion. This was somebody different, this reaction was very different from his wife because she would’ve passed out after the second round. Maybe you grew and learned how to take him. Yeah, you learned, right? Right?!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Choso:

Choso was a big fan of somnophilia, he managed to talk his wife into that at the beginning of their long-lasting relationship. Their wife was someone who wanted to understand each of them and they loved her for that. Of course, that’s not the only thing they loved her for. Choso was tired and had a long day at work. He hated working in the same company as Gojo and Geto because these two are non stop talkers and pranksters. He just needed a good sleepy fuck and you were his prime target right now. He slowly made his way into the room and looked at your silk pj dress covering your beautiful body.

“ Fuck, I’m getting hard just by imagining your body underneath me.”, Choso whispered to himself as you lay there sleeping like a doll in her dollhouse. God, were you his most precious doll of a wife he could ever ask for. He noticed you’ve been stepping your game up especially from the stories he heard from everyone else you fucked already. He also noticed how different your aura and clothes were. He loved every minute of it and now he couldn’t wait to hold your body close to his as he fucks you in your sleep.

He watched as you turned to your side, giving him the perfect position he was gonna take you in. He peeled his clothes off, one by one before taking his place behind you. He breathed in your new and exquisite scent, letting out a dreamy sigh. He reached down to pull your panties to the side, taking in the feeling of your warm pussy juice on his hands. You were soaking his hand in your juices, that’s how he knew you were having a wet/good dream.

Choso glided his pretty fingers over your clit, rubbing in circles about 4 times. Lining his angry tip to your opening made his body shudder from the impact. He let out a few curses when he slid inside of your warm pussy and immediately after your walls clamped down on his dick like a snake catching its prey between its venomous teeth, “ Hah, hah, fuck yes, squeeze around me just like that honey.” His hands slid over your body so carefully like he was afraid to break you, “ I’m gonna take good care of ya’.”

You could feel your pussy being split open as you slowly gained consciousness. You didn’t know what was going on until you heard the grunting of a deep voice inside of your ear. He was hungry for you and you knew that. You had to guess that this was a routine so you went along with it for your sake. Or maybe you just loved this feeling too much. This was something new and you liked it especially when you looked back to connect your lips with Choso’s warm lips. The fact that he was moving so sensually and slow was enough to make your legs shake, let’s not even get on his beautiful facial expressions he made whenever you tightened and untightened around his cock in want and need. You uttered the one word he never got to hear, “ More.” His wife let him do what he wants and never asks for what she wants and needs so why did this feel so new?

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Nanami & Hiromi:

These men were the epitome of mysterious and sexy with a hint of danger. You couldn’t tell where the danger came into mind while hanging out with them but you could feel it. They had the brawn and brains, you guess that could be considered dangerous, but you knew that wasn’t it. These two were the reason for the house. Whatever conflict you all had within this house, they heard everyone’s side, putting their input in later. You were amazed at how the other 5 men listened to what they had to say. What made them so dangerous in your mind though? You didn’t find out until today on a Saturday night.

“ Nanami, do you think we should see how sensitive her little pussy has been, I mean you have been fucking this entire week? Right?” Hiromi says, putting his leather gloves on. You looked at the both of them standing side by side in their clean suits as you were tied by the hands waiting for them to touch your leaking pussy.

You shook your head which earned a low chuckle from Nanami, “ Come on, sweetheart, tell us the truth and we could just get to the good part. Yeah?” His voice along with Hiromi’s was making you squeal inside. You couldn't believe that you finally got the chance to have the men you wanted since the beginning and you would never let them get it done and over with quickly, so you stayed silent with your hands tied in front of you. Hiromi noticed your silence and raised an eyebrow. What Choso and Sukuna brought up in their conversation they had the other day came to mind. Oh you’re definitely different and he couldn’t understand because “you” hated pussy inspections so why weren't “ you” trying to talk your way out of it now.

The next thing you felt was your hair getting pulled roughly by Nanami as your body now lay on the bed with your legs up against your chest, “ Since you’re not speaking, we have no choice darling.” The lube-covered leather glove he has on glided over your labia in excitement. Hiromi had his eyes peeking down at you similar to the wolf peering in the houses of the three little pigs: malnourishment. He squeezed your pussy lips together while Nanami placed small kisses all over your face easing you up. Hiromi put one finger inside of your pussy and used his other hand to place a finger inside of your ass, taking a moan away from your pretty glossed lips. He moved his finger in and out of both holes making your face scrunched up at the pain coming from your ass. After a minute of teasing your little, fat pussy and ass, he took both fingers out to inspect it prior to nodding his head at Nanami, “ She’s ready.”

Indeed you were because now you were getting fucked in your wet pussy by Hiromi while Nanami took you from behind. They were both bare right along with you after taking their clothes off. Nothing but moans and groans were heard around the room as you three joined together. Hiromi bites your neck as your chest bounced against his chest, earning a low moan from him. Your moans were so beautiful to them, but they had to get their point across, “ Ahh, fuck yes, this feels am-amazing! Fill me up, nigh!”

Hiromi lifted his head to lock eyes with you, then locked them with Nanami, “ first, smoke this with me.” Your eyes widened when you saw a white cigarette in his hand. Nanami kept fucking your ass while leaning to grab a lighter from the dresser. Hiromi smirked up at you with his head against the headboard, “ Why the, mmh, surprise face. Loosen up for me, darling.” You wanted to cry right then and there because you couldn’t understand if he was talking about you smoking a cigarette or your pussy. It was both. You had tried to smoke cigarettes before and it didn't work out even if you were playing their now dead wife. You made up excuses time after time saying that you weren’t feeling it. You hated that that bitch smoked cigarettes like a pro.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice that they stopped moving and Hiromi was now offering you the cigarette, which was already lightened by the way. You hesitantly wrapped your pretty lips around the tip of the cigarette, bracing yourself to inhale the scent and flavor of the cigarette. Once you got the smoke in your mouth you released it too late and now you were coughing like a maniac. They both laughed because their suspicions were right. This was someone else, not their wife. They were gonna confirm it later with everyone else. Right now, your ass and pussy felt too good to not cum inside of them. Nanami moans started again as he thrusted into you while Hiromi put out the cigarette, kissing your lips as he moved his hips up into your pussy letting his dick ruin your perfect little pussy.

After the tiring night from yesterday, you woke up to your arms being tied to the bed with your legs being tied at the end of the bed. You had on a new bra and pantie set on, so you knew after you passed out yesterday, they bathed you and put you on something new. Your pudgy stomach was showing, thighs too. They loved those features on you and their wife.

The sun shines through the window on your pretty skin. You were yawning and trying to stretch, but couldn't because of the restraints, “ Let’s get down to business should we?”

You knew that voice belonged to Toji. You looked where it was coming from and saw all of them standing at the foot of the bed, well Toji, Nanami, and Hiromi were.

Gojo, Geto, and Choso were either sitting on the chair beside the bed or leaning on the wall/ door frame.

“ Who the hell are you?”, Gojo asked, walking closer.

“ Where is our wife? Because you’re definitely not her.”, Geto says after Gojo.

You smirked at their questions, which only made Choso get up from the chair on the side of the bed, snatching your face to him, “ And don’t play games, just answer us. Not really in the mood for playfulness right now.”

You smirked at them. You got them and her, that’s all that matters now. You could now die a happy woman.

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ Tagging: @dejwrites @simpingforwakasa04 @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @emomanswhore and plenty more people who wants to join( just tell me)

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #chubby reader #x black reader #black reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #toji smut #gojo smut #geto smut #sukuna smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #fem reader #Choso smut #jjk headcanons #headcannons #hiromi higuruma x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #hiromi higuruma smut

[fashionsfromhistory]

Hi! I don’t know if you’re still answering Met Gala questions. If you are, I still as wondering if you could explain why you had Quannah Chasinghorse in Atelier Prabal Gurung as part of your top 10? I love her look and would wear the dress in an instant; she’s definitely one of my favorites in terms of loving the fashion, but I can’t figure out how it fits the theme. Did you put it on the list because of fitting the theme (which you definitely know more about than me) or just because it’s an AMAZING look? I’ve loved reading your thoughts; thank you for sharing your knowledge and expertise with us!

Of course! I've gotten a couple of questions about her look and I think she did a brilliant job of incorporating her culture while also understanding what the MET Gala is about.

Quannah Chasinghorse in Prabal Gurung with Jewelry by Lenise Omeasoo of Antelope Women Designs

While the Gilded Age was a massive boom of wealth and culture in the United States, much of this success was built off the exploited lands and labor of immigrants, Black people, and Indigenous Americans. Quannah went and flipped that narrative on it's head. Many people went with the Glamour part of the theme, but she went with the gilded. I pulled some quotes from this article in Vogue from Lenise Omeasoo herself and Quannah's mother, Jody Potts-Joseph. I think they articulate the deep message and meaning far better than I can.

"Chasinghorse’s accessories—her intricate jewelry and feather hairpieces—celebrated the idea of Native community and love in a unique way. The custom jewelry by Lenise Omeasoo, a Blackfeet and Cree artist who runs Antelope Women Designs, was intended to quite literally envelope the model with Native pride. “The piece was inspired by the Native community,” Omeasoo tells Vogue. “The tipis surrounding Quannah represent the love of her community, there with her.” Omeasoo applied dentalium shells, porcupine quills, and beads on smoked hide. “All the traditional materials I used were gifted through trade with other Native artists over the years,” says Omeasoo. “This was my first quilled jewelry set—a bit risky, but I wanted to give my all for Quannah’s iconic moment.”" -Lenise Omeasoo

"For Chasinghorse, the celebration of her Indigenous heritage overall was also important given the theme. “Quannah’s look encapsulated the Indigenous perspective on Gilded Glamor by showcasing Indigenous artistry, ingenuity, resiliency, beauty, and excellence,” says Jody Potts-Joseph, Chasinghorse’s mother. “It is important to understand that for Native Americans, the Gilded Age represents a period of  United States policies of removal, genocide, and assimilation all creating generations of trauma for Native Americans. Yet, we are still here—and Quannah gracefully reminds the world of our strength, beauty, talent and resilience in every space.”" - Jody Potts-Joseph

#quannah chasinghorse #met gala #met gala 2022 #asks and such #popular

[dwellordream]

“By 1900, the domestic role of women was already beginning to reflect the long-term effects of social and technological changes that had been taking place since the Civil War. Most significantly, women’s marital and maternal roles were different from the ones that their grandmothers had experienced in 1850. Marriages themselves were not as permanent as they had been in the past. By 1900, the divorce rate had risen to one in twelve couples; by 1915 the rate was one in nine. Two-thirds of divorces were sought by women, a clear indication that a growing number of women were unwilling to accept unsatisfactory marriages and that, increasingly, they had the courage and the means to obtain their independence.

The proportion of women choosing never to marry at all had risen from 6 percent (where it had been throughout the 19th century) to 10 percent in the 1890s. Within this new group of women who never married were many educated professionals and others who felt that they could find satisfactory lives, work, and companionship without husbands and children. Among married white women of childbearing age, the birthrate had dropped 50 percent in the course of a century; it had gone from seven children for each woman in 1800 to three to four children in 1900. Among African-American women, the birth rate began to decline dramatically after 1900. By the 1920s about half of all married black women in northern cities were remaining childless, compared to only one-fourth of married white women. The birthrate of immigrant groups also decreased as they became more assimilated into American culture.

…As a rule, innovation happened more quickly in cities than in rural areas, and new technology was available to the well-to-do many years before it reached the homes of working people. Few of the new home utilities and labor-saving machines were ready for mass consumption before 1920. Between 1890 and 1920, for example, most American women were still washing household clothing and linen by hand in tubs with corrugated scrubbing boards. In a series of separate operations, each of which required fresh hot water, they boiled the clothes on the stove, rinsed them, blued the whites, and starched nearly everything except work clothes. Every item was wrung out through a hand-cranked roller mangle and hung to dry, outdoors or indoors, depending on the weather. The next day almost everything, including sheets, had to be ironed, using heavy flatirons that were heated on the stove and reheated as they cooled.

All but the wealthiest housewives did some laundry themselves, or assisted their domestic servants with the backbreaking labor. Any family who could afford it hired a laundress to come in by the day or take clothing to her own home to wash. By 1910, commercial steam laundries--staffed mostly by women workers--had become big business in cities and large towns, easing the chores of wash day for housewives. In later decades, automatic washing machines would return laundry to the home, making it, once again, the responsibility of the housewife.

…In 1900, nearly all American homes had cast-iron stoves, which had replaced fireplace cooking and heating in all but the most primitive houses. Stoves made cooking much easier and used fuel economically, and their temperature could be more or less controlled through the manipulation of a set of dampers. Many kitchen stoves had attached water-heating and storage reservoirs, which made dish washing and laundry easier than they had been in the days when all water had to be hauled and heated in kettles over the fire.

Most Americans used coal for heating and cooking, though families burned wood in parts of the country where trees were still abundant. Coal and wood smoke left a thin film of grime on furniture and windowsills and embedded itself in carpets and curtains, making housecleaning a repetitive and thankless task. Coal-fired furnaces and central heating systems, which burned more clearly than small stoves and had been available for decades, were still so expensive in the 1890s that they were found only in the urban homes of affluent people.

…Ironically, the opportunity to improve housekeeping with new sources of energy and new appliances would actually make housework more complex, multiplying some tasks while relieving the burdens of others. The presence in the home of hot running water meant washing and cleaning were easier, but also suggested the need to take more baths or to mop the floor more often. Washing machines made it possible to wash the same clothes more frequently than before. Easily regulated gas or electric ovens meant the housewife could attempt more elaborate cooking and baking than her mother had been able to produce in her day.

Despite its heavily advertised promises, the new domestic technology did not actually liberate women from housework. Rather, it served to intensify the personal importance of the home and the woman’s role in it by suggesting that her housework could be scientifically perfected. All the domestic experts and professional home economists promoted scientific housekeeping and the consumption of new appliances and energy sources. In magazines and books, on the lecture circuit, and in secondary schools, where domestic science became part of the required curriculum for girls, these authorities encouraged homemakers and potential homemakers to time their tasks, to break household jobs into segments, and to follow strict sanitary guidelines, especially in cleaning bathrooms and kitchens, potential sources of infectious disease.”

- Karen Manners Smith, “Women at Home.” in New Paths to Power: American Women, 1890-1920

#karen manners smith #history #1890s #1900s #1910s #gender #marriage #edwardian #american

[aemontargaryen-bloodraven]

Jon Snow & The Trees With Faces

In Jon V, ADWD, Jon comes across three trees, the Ash, the Chestnut and the Oak. The way those trees are described and the fact that the number three always says something significant seemed to me that these three trees indicate phases of Jon's life?

The Ash Tree

The first tree that Jon encounters is an Ash Tree,

"The drunkard was an ash tree, twisted sideways by centuries of wind. And now it had a face. A solemn mouth, a broken branch for a nose, two eyes carved deep into the trunk, gazing north up the kingsroad, toward the castle and the Wall." Jon V, ADWD

The Ash Tree on the whole symbolises Jon's duty as a Stark, to the Nights Watch or the Nights Watch itself. It is called the "drunkard", which is a nice call back to Jon's first chapter where Jon got too drunk because he was upset and blurted out that he wanted to join the Nights Watch.

Also, the fact that it is twisted sideways is intriguing because the Nights Watch is not what it was once before. Its purpose and state are twisted, it was meant to keep the Others Beyond the Wall and not the Wildlings. The same can be said about the Starks as well.

And now it has a face again - Jon's. Jon is solemn, "lord Stark's sullen bastard" is of a "broken branch" of the Starks (female line, Lyanna's son) .. "two eyes carved deep" ... He's always been presented as observant "You don't miss much, do you Jon?"

The tree is gazing up the Kingsroad toward the Castle and the Wall, which is again a throwback to when Jon realises that he had no place else to go and that Wall was where he had to be.

He had no destination in mind. He wanted only to ride. He followed the creek for a time, listening to the icy trickle of water over rock, then cut across the fields to the kingsroad. It stretched out before him, narrow and stony and pocked with weeds, a road of no particular promise, yet the sight of it filled Jon Snow with a vast longing. Winterfell was down that road, and beyond it Riverrun and King's Landing and the Eyrie and so many other places; Casterly Rock, the Isles of Faces, the red mountains of Dorne, the hundred islands of Braavos in the sea, the smoking ruins of old Valyria. All the places that Jon would never see. The world was down that road … and he was here.

Once he swore his vow, the Wall would be his home until he was old as Maester Aemon. "I have not sworn yet," he muttered. Jon V, AGOT

He ultimately does swear his vows and chooses the Wall and he has, throughout the story been focused on the North, Castle Black and the Wall.

The Chestnut

Growing.. beside an icy stream, where its eyes could watch the old plank bridge that spanned its flow. The chestnut was leafless and skeletal, but its bare brown limbs were not empty. On a low branch overhanging the stream a raven sat hunched, its feathers ruffled up against the cold. When it spied Jon it spread its wings and gave a scream. When he raised his fist and whistled, the big black bird came flapping down, crying, “Corn, corn, corn.” Jon V, ADWD

As of ADWD, he is creating a bridge between the Wildlings and South of the Wall. He is assimilating them in the North by marriage, taking hostages and making them guard the other Castles of the Nights Watch.

Though the tree is leafless and looks skeletal, it's not dead just in stasis, just like Jon is in the Nights Watch. He is leafless because till now he keeps cutting his connections from his blood/Starks/family. While in the Nights Watch, Jon has done what was within his power and more to set things to right but he is getting stagnant at the Wall.

The tree's bare brown limbs are not empty, the sap will flow, it will put out leaves. The sap flows, it did flow when blood called, his little sister, Arya was in danger. He is the blood of Winterfell.

Mormont's raven is there. The Corn King has been buried/dead. The raven saying, Corn King Jon Snow is this part of Jon's arc.

The Corn King is a sacrificed fertility figure, either a god or sacred king. Jon does die at the end of ADWD, but will return to life to play his part in the War to come, possibly with his third eye opened and bring restoration to the land somehow.

The Oak Tree

Just north of Mole’s Town they came upon the third watcher, carved into the huge oak that marked the village perimeter, its deep eyes fixed upon the kingsroad. That is not a friendly face, Jon Snow reflected. The faces that the First Men and the children of the forest had carved into the weirwoods in eons past had stern or savage visages more oft than not, but the great oak looked especially angry, as if it were about to tear its roots from the earth and come roaring after them. Its wounds are as fresh as the wounds of the men who carved it.

The oak is huge and great ..and Jon may become a huge (great) figure, and Kingsroad is again mentioned, that was when he looked at Kingsroad again this time it is what is coming from the South (Ramsay, Bolton/Politics of the Realm).

Not a friendly face, Jon won't be a friendly man when he comes back to life either. He would be especially angry considering what he has experienced.

Jon while "dead" may learn what he needs to learn about himself. And the wounds that he was given during the assassination would be fresh as well. He is not going to trust anyone easily, considering how betrayed he will feel after not only being dead and then revived but also learning that he has lived a lie and was sent to the Nights Watch with that lie.

While his wounds are still fresh, he will tear his roots from the earth, get away from the Nights Watch, down the Kingsroad again and will come roaring after his enemies.

#Jon Snow #Canonjonsnow #ASOIAF #valyrianscrolls

[anim-ttrpgs]

Vampires in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, Part 2 of 3

Monsters in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy are made up of two Traits, which leaves them room for more regular Traits as well. Here is the first vampire Trait.

Dark Powers (Vampire): When not exposed to direct sunlight, this character has access to a variety of vampiric powers, such as the ability to walk on sheer walls and ceilings as if they were floors, and the ability to instantly relocate when in complete or near complete darkness. (The endpoint of this relocation must also be in complete or near complete darkness and be within ‘sight’ of the startpoint. It cannot pass through solid objects, and does not drop any of their equipment.) In addition to these abilities, this character can effortlessly transform their body into three alternate forms besides human: A small bat, a large wolf, and a cloud of autonomously-mobile black smoke/mist. There is one more extreme transformation further down. For stats of the wolf form, see Lycanthropy(although this wolf has a tail.). The gaseous form can do anything a gas could do, but is vulnerable to strong currents of air. The bat is capable of echolocation in complete darkness and can fly at high speeds, as well as do anything else a bat could do. Small, low-density objects that they have been carrying on their person for some time, including clothes that are not exceptionally thick, will transform with them and reappear on their person when they return to human form. Things that cannot transform with them will fall to the ground, and should also be marked as such in their inventory for convenience.

[flavor text] Vampires may not even be fully conscious of the fact that they are instantly relocating in total darkness. 

Walk on shear walls and ceilings as if they were floors.

Can instantaneously change their position at any point when in near total or total darkness, though the endpoint must also be in darkness and within ‘sight’ of the startpoint, it cannot pass through solid objects.

Effortlessly transform into a small bat, large wolf, or smoke/mist.

As a wolf, gains a +2 bonus to all Athletics, Stealth, Senses, and CQC rolls (within reason), and their melee attacks double in damage. Additionally, their base movement speed is tripled. For vampires, the stat bonuses only apply if they are weakened. Otherwise, just use the other Dark Powers modifiers. 

Low-density objects that have been in contact with the body for a long time(essentially clothes, wallet, possibly car keys) will transform with them. Denser objects and objects that have had less time to ‘assimilate’(usually guns, Armor, and most other things too big to fit in a pocket) will not transform with them. Mark these somehow in the inventory sheet.

This character can also transform themselves into a monstrously massive bat-like beast larger than most cars, but maintaining this form requires near constant intake of fresh human blood. For every 5 minutes this character goes without consuming a human worth of blood, this form will take 5 Superficial damage. This bestial form is counted as having 35 of both types of HP, and its melee attacks deal 4 Penetrative damage by default. When they transform, their percentage HP values remain consistent across manifestations. For example, if they had lost 20% of their Penetrative HP before transforming, then this monstrous form would also be missing 20% of its Penetrative HP from the start, and if they revert to a human shape after taking damage, their human form’s HP percentage would match that of the monstrous form. Round decimals up. Weaknesses also still apply. While in this form, failing an Injury roll while under the effects of a debilitating Weakness will immediately revert the vampire back to human form. 

Transform into a massive bat-like beast that has 35 of both types of HP and does 4 Penetrative damage with melee attacks.

In this form, must consume a human worth of blood every 5 minutes, or else suffer 5 damage. 

Percentage HP values remain consistent across transformations. Round decimals up. Weaknesses still apply.

Failing an Injury roll while under the effects of a debilitating Weakness will revert vampire back to human form.

Even in human form, this character’s nails are hard and sharp like claws, and this allows them to deal Penetrative damage with unarmed melee attacks. This is the only exception to this character losing all their powers when exposed to a debilitating Weakness, the claws do not stop being sharp. When not exposed to a weakness, these claws deal 2 Penetrative damage. When in mild exposure, they deal 1 Penetrative damage. When in severe exposure, they deal 1 Superficial damage.

Due to claw-like nails, can deal Penetrative damage with unarmed melee attacks.

When not exposed to a debilitating Weakness, 2 Penetrative damage.

When mildly exposed to a debilitating Weakness, 1 Penetrative damage.

When severely exposed, 1 Superficial damage. 

Vampires can always see well in the dark so long as there is at least a little bit of light, such as moonlight, starlight, or even a match. A literally lightless cave, however, would blind a vampire just like anyone else. (Time to try out echolocation as a bat!) 

[flavor text] With miniscule sources of light, their vision may still feel somewhat impaired, but not enough to warrant a mechanical penalty modifier. 

[flavor text] Bright light, however, can cause discomfort, even if it is not sunlight. Many vampires may opt to wear sunglasses even indoors or at night. 

Vampires can see well in the dark with even a miniscule source of light. Total complete darkness, however, will still blind them. 

Vampires do not need to sleep, ever. The only exception is if the vampire wants to enter dormancy for years or even decades at a time, which is a good way to recuperate after being “killed.”

[flavor text]  This is also a good way for vampires to fein death and let the heat die down if their most recent identity has been found guilty of multiple gruesome murders. 

Vampires do not ever sleep, though they may lay dormant for long periods of time after being “killed.”

Vampires do not need to breathe to stay ‘alive’. However, they do need to draw breath in order to speak or sniff the air.

Only need to breathe for the purpose of speaking. 

Vampires do not have saliva, skin oils, or anything else of the sort. If they lose hair, it will disintegrate like any other lost body part, and soon reappear on the body. Vampires will never leave fingerprints or any other DNA evidence behind. 

[flavor text] This can make shaving very tricky!

No fingerprints, no DNA evidence.

And here is the second vampire Trait, which they share with the Wolfman.

Unkillable (Vampire, Wolfman): All hits against this character deal half of the damage they normally would, to a minimum of 1. This character does not die permanently upon reduction to 0 Penetrative HP, but instead must flee to enter hibernation for months or years at a time to recover. This effectively still results in removal from the investigative party for the remainder of the current mystery as if they had died, but they may return in later investigations. Characters with this Trait will typically have the special ritualistic means of killing them for good listed in their Weakness.

[flavor text] Vampires take half-damage not because their flesh is extraordinarily durable, but because they just don’t need most of it to live. Wolfmen, however, take half-damage because they are extraordinarily dense and durable. 

Take half-damage from all damage sources.

Do not permanently die at 0 Penetrative HP, may return later. Still effectively counts as death for the rest of the current adventure. 

Can only be permanently killed by special means.

This character also regains 1 HP of both types at the end of each play session, rather than the usual medical attention required to restore HP. This character does not require the use of professional medical facilities to remove their Injured status.

Regains 1 HP of both types at the end of each play session. 

Does not require the use of professional medical facilities to remove their Injured status.

This character is also able to reattach severed body parts and have them soon work good as new. Body parts that are not reattached will disintegrate in the case of a vampire or just rot normally in the case of a wolfman. This character will complete the regeneration of one lost body part at the end of each session so long as their Superficial and Penetrative HP are both full. See: Monster Dismemberment. 

Able to easily reattach severed body parts. 

If at full HP, will start regenerating one body part at the end of each play session. 

If they took any damage at all, characters with this trait also recover 1 point of the type of HP that they lost immediately at the conclusion of an instance of combat. This does not apply if they took no damage at all. For instance, if a vampire got in a fist-fight and took 2 points of superficial damage, they would recover 1 point of superficial HP at the conclusion of the fight. However, they would not recover any penetrative HP, even if they already had some missing from a previous fight. 

At the end of combat, will recover 1 point of any type of damage they took during that combat encounter. 

Characters with this trait may spend 1 Eureka! Point to instantaneously recover all of both types of HP as well as restore any missing limbs. If done during combat, this is considered to take an Action. 

Spend 1 Eureka! Point to instantly restore all HP and missing limbs.

Link to Part 1.

#ttrpg #eureka: investigative urban fantasy #eureka #roleplaying #tabletop #indie rpg #coc #dnd #rpg #indie game #indiegames #indiedev #indie games #vampire #vampires #monsters #monstergirl #monster girl #monster #monster boy

[notfknapplicable]

just venting about irl things

Ya know it just blows me away sometimes. When I was a kid/teen I was really into rock and punk, but I was also a Black girl so of course I was endlessly teased and bullied over my artistic tastes and how I presented myself to the world. Everyone was in on it but the majority of this criticism came from other Black girls. Blah blah something something internal racism internal misogynoir etc. But one thing I never did was encourage racial assimilation or criticize my peers for "acting Black" in the same way that I was criticized for "acting white." I didn't back then and I do not today. Black Americans are as diverse as any other group of people and we are allowed to express ourselves however we'd like, including in the most typical, expected, and stereotypical ways. The Black experience is valid, always.

Now that I'm an adult I can't help but notice that it is the dummies who ostracized me and tried to bully me into conformity who have all kinds of smoke for ghetto Black women on television. Straight up losing their minds over Glorilla's accent or the way Young Miami speaks. Accusing these young Black women artists of bringing our entire community down for speaking the way they've always spoken, they way that y'all yourselves yes YOU speak. The way your motherfuckin children speak. Actually using the word "ebonics" to describe the way these women speak.

I don't know that I have like 'smart words' right now to describe how I feel, but this shit really does blow my mind. To have been treated like I was a traitor by members of my community when I was little, just to see y'all dumb asses exalting and worshipping whiteness and racial conformity as an adult. Y'all treated me like I was the one who didn't "get it" but now look at you hatin' on a young, successful Black woman for being Black in public.

#tales from scumbag city #and none of them ever got further than 100 miles from our hometown either #y'all told me that I was the one who was supposed to be the race traitor #y'all heard me speak and accused me of hating my Blackness #but look at you now #stuck in a shitsplat bump in the road ass town and encouraging Black people to code switch #literally arguing it because white people will see and what if they think less of us??????? #fuck OUTTA here #I don't know...there's something poetic about all of this

[ramshacklefey]

I was reading this post from @headspace-hotel, and it got me back into a bunch of thoughts I've been rolling around in my head for ages.

The emptiness of white culture in the USA comes a lot from what the original post mentions: that people who started out with a variety of different cultural heritages in Europe were forced to assimilate to a hegemonic white culture or be crushed.

However, world history is full of examples of one culture conquering and assimilating another, but the extent of this homogenization to... nothingness seems to be somewhat unique to the history of the USA.

And I think part of that is the result of the precise historical and political situation that laid the foundation for what became the dominant culture in the USA.

The English Puritan Christianity that the early colonists brought with them to North America was largely defined by rejecting things: not only many of the traditions of Catholicism, but also everything in secular culture that was deemed immoral. I mean, these were people who forbade theater or celebrating most holidays. They basically stripped themselves of everything that we would usually think of as "culture" and left themselves with nothing but the imperative to work hard and not have fun.

In other cases, when one culture assimilated another, the assimilated group actually picked up the practices and traits of the assimilating culture. But in this case, there wasn't much to pick up. The only demand was to reject whatever your previous culture had been.

And this had a particularly strong effect on people from European countries and others who would eventually come to be considered white. Black and native peoples were subjected to more violence, but because they couldn't effectively "disappear" into the white cultural hegemony, they had less incentive to do that and managed to (in many cases) maintain or recreate some kind of culture for themselves. For white Europeans, the story was different. If you were Irish or German or Scandinavian or Russian, you could disappear into the rest of the white people in America if you dropped your language, dropped your accent, dropped your religious identity and culture specific practices and just started acting like the vaguely Puritan people around you.

Of course, Puritanism is no fun at all, and over time people started reinstating a lot of things. They picked up Christian holidays and such, but there wasn't much left to them on a community or spiritual level for a lot of people. And that made it really easy for corporate entities to turn them into commercial hullabaloos.

What's that you say? Christmas has been stripped of the solemnity of Mass and the power inherent in ritual practices? Guess all that's left is the decorations (which we'll sell you since you're too busy working to make them), and the food (which we'll sell you since you're too busy working to cook), and the gift-giving (which you gotta spend a lot of money on or you're being a selfish bastard).

Something similar happened to food. If you actually go to Europe and eat the food that has been made in various countries for hundreds of years, it's varied and interesting. True, Europe isn't home to a lot of the more exciting spices that are used elsewhere in the world, but people everywhere like food that tastes good. European food is traditionally flavored with herbs and garlic and pepper. And because they had to preserve a lot of stuff to last through the winter, they got pretty ingenious with pickling and smoking things. They went nuts with baked goods and dairy.

Come to the USA, and a lot of those foods were considered "gross," so people stopped making them and the recipes got lost. Throw in the early to mid 20th century rise in pre-cooked foods that made it easier to feed a family on almost no money when you didn't have time to cook, and you get a lot of really bland stuff that can be made in huge batches. This was especially true in the poorer areas of the midwest where there was less in the way of interesting ingredients being brought in from other places around the world, and the growing season was pretty short.

Oh right, and people's stories and folk practices got culled, because they didn't fit in with the dominant religious views. So those were out.

You mix all that together with the general social alienation and death of community and family life that capitalism has been steadily forcing on people for the last couple centuries, and you have an entire population of people who don't have any solid roots or traditions. No spiritual connection to ancestors and only the foggiest, most watered down understanding of their ancestral cultures. And it isn't a far jump from there to people feeling like the only thing they have that counts as culture is "being white."

We need a solution to this, and I'm not sure what it is. I know that we're going to have a helluva time changing anything as long as we're stuck under the thumb of a capitalist system that makes it almost impossible to build real-world community. That things aren't going to get better as long as any religious or spiritual belief system other than bland, Evangelical Christianity is considered hokey and idiotic.

What I'm sure of is that the only way it's going to start is if people start actively trying to build communities in real life. People who you can actually talk with and share food and build traditions and rituals... People who can help each other and form bonds that can be passed down to younger generations so that they have some sense of connection to the rest of the world.

I'm just one dude, and I'm not advocating for any particular shape that this should take. Just that it needs to happen.

#ramshackle thoughts

[tutchando74]

Memory

As I close my eyes, I do what I'm used to do every night, try to remember.

I open my eyes and see what I think is my home. A bulky pitch black man and a pitch black woman that crawls on all fours are on my side. I guess they are my parents or something like that.

They bring me outside, there were other members of my species there, all with different forms, sizes, all shadows of different beings. I was different from them, I had a tail with a hand in the end, sharp claws and a white hole on my chest. I don't know what I'm a shadow of, not that I care.

Everyone looked up. I guess it is because this was the birth of a new star, close to this planet.

The explosion happened out of nowhere, but it was beautiful. It's like nothing that I have ever seen. A vision I can't even describe. An explosion of lights, mutiple different colors, shining the entire sky. Soon after it all compressed in a single ball that expanded and turned into a new star...

But something was different about it. I don't know if anyone else felt that feeling, but that star seemed to be looking at us. It was strange.

Some months passed and nothing unusual happened, until we noticed...

The star was getting closer.

Some got out of the planet, thinking it would hit it. I don't know what happened to them, since we never had any news on their status. Maybe they lived, maybe not.

Others stayed, like me and my "family". We tried to find a way to stop the star. We spent days and days trying to find a way to stop the star, but nothing worked. It all seemed hopeless, until...

It got worse.

We noticed that it wasn't just one star. There were mutiple coming straight towards us. It was something so strange that it couldn't just be a coincidence, and oh, it wasn't.

We discovered that those stars were actually a life form. They were ambushing us, and now, we didn't have any way of escaping.

I don't remember what happened, but everything was destroyed.

I woke up in a white place, nothing in view. After my vision adapted to this new enviroment, I noticed that I was surrounded by those stars. They were all over the place, hundreds and hundreds of them. There was nothing I could do, only give up. Closing my eyes, I accepted my fate.

Opening them, I see a familiar floor, a familiar ceiling and walls. I was back. I could hear S and Carleen whispering. I didn't find anything new. Getting more information is getting harder and harder. I sigh.

I look at my chest and pierce my claws on the white spot. The sound of flesh being ripped was plentiful in the air, but it didn't hurt. I put my hand inside the newly formed hole and from inside I grab a box of "Memory cigarettes".

A very old thing my species made. It was supposed to help beings with memory loss, but it's just a scam. It doesn't work and is just a stupid idea overall.

I take a cigar, placing the box back in my chest. I punch the lower part of my face, creating a little white crack in it. Placing the cigar on the crack and with a snap of my finger, creating sparks and lighting it on. The smoke was black, the moment it was dispersed in the air, my body would assimilate it. I sigh, once again, not knowing what to do.

(OOC: Here is what Tutchando is doing in this moment @the-simple-creature, @carleenchoco, @shadelessanon)

#murder drones #murder drones rp

[mychalicetheworld-more]

WIP(Chalice Food)

Food and the culture of food in fantasy worlds is a very neglected part of worldbuilding. Since starting Chalice as a worldbuilding project, I’ve taken food as way to give more personality and life to the cultures of these fantastic lands.

Some Quick Notes

Fesmargo feels like a very bisque and decedent culinary center.

Medy isn’t overly original or inspired on its own, a lot of its ‘dishes’ descended from Yusador who assimilated culture after culture

Xarlgos is tough, but they lean towards an efficient and bloody meal

Black Bellia is variety and sea/water heavy

Anterro is without fail a bread and meat crazy place. Where pie comes to evolve

Tantimar has a climate unlike the rest of Chalice, and it shows in their dishes. Also have a spread of deserts and grasslands

Locheckle is forest heavy and has a taiga as a neighbor. Milk based alcohol for sure

Baslen live underground and have spider meat so yeah...

Food

Breads

Biscuit (Medy)

Black Bread

Bark Bread 

Barley Bread

Lichen Bread (Medy) 

Honey Bread(Anterro)

Acorn bread(All of Chalice, originated Locheckle)

Puff Pastry(Fesmargo)

Sesame Flatbread(Xarlgos)

Potato Bread(Baslen)

Rice Bread

Meats

Goat Cutlets(Xarlgos)

Smoked Herring

Jellied Eels (Black Bellia)

Medy Smoked Ham

Medy Sausage 

Roast Goose (Locheckle)

Roast Cockatrice (Fesmargo)

Ground Spider(Baslen)

Oyster

Cheese

Cow Cheese

Oscypek Cheese/Anterro Cheese

Sheep Cheese

Goat cheese

Spider Cheese(Xarlgos & Baslen)

Blue Cheese(Fesmargo)

Sauces

Plum Mousse(Fesmargo)

Almond Sauce(Tantimar)

Spicy Almond Sauce(Tantimar)

Herring Gravy(Anterro)

Plum Sauce(Anterro)

Gravy(Xarlgos)

Yogurt(Locheckle)

Applesauce

Mushroom gravy(Baslen)

Honey(Anterro)

Pepper Gravy(Anterro)

Dishes

Boiled Meat and Innards with Lichen Bread(Baslen, for peasants usually)

Meat Pie(Anterro)

Bellia Egg(Poached egg with herb/spiced yogurt)

Curry(Originated from Black Bellia)

Medy Dumpling(Pierogi)

Xarlgos Dumpling(Mongolian style/khuushuur)

Peasant Surprise Stew(Filled with the most available veggies and protein, Medy)

Seafood Bisque(Fesmargo)

Wine cooked venison with boiled vegetables(Anterro) 

Fried eel(Black Bellia)

Corn Crab Soup(Black Bellia)

Deviled Goose Egg(Locheckle)

Potato Pancakes(Baslen)

Xarlgos Remedy(A porridge filled with pork(bacon or sausage) or venison and fruits, a chicken egg served on the side and drank down with a cider)

Baslen Porridge(always uses ground spider or spider meat and alcohol infused meats)

Venison Porridge(Xarlgos)

Rabbit Stew

Fang Steak Tartar(Tantimar)

Fried Scorpion(Tantimar)

Turtle Soup(Fesmargo)

Black Pudding(Medy)

Fish Chowder(Black Bellia)

Turnip & Barley Stew(Medy)

#Chalice wiki #psy talks #creative writing #writing #fantasy worldbuilding #fantasy world #chalice misc

[meirimerens]

I loved your stamatwins headcanons! any for Daniil or Yulia, if you’d like? Love ❤️!

#YAAASSS ok let's get to it

DANKOVSKY

only child. he sooooo is an only child to me it's unreal

from that: momma's boy so much it's unreal

armenian mother whose parents came to russian, georgian father whose family had been in the country for a while (enough to have an ""assimilated"" name

speaking of dad... daniil is a mikhailovich to me... daniil mikhailovich dankovsky.

speaking again of dad: it's lore that he was a military officer, and to me he taught dankovsky to use a weapon very early (indulgence to me: he taught dankovsky to use a weapon because he was afraid his son was becoming "less manly" after his parents started having an inkling he might be gay, and father tried to compensate by teaching him how to war)

to me he learned to play the cello after seeing his mom play it :3 as a little kid he loved to just pinch the cords like bling blang blong

also papa-related: just as dankovsky was leaving for university, his dad gifted him a tailored chokha as (indulgence to me: as a confirmation of "you might be gay... you might... do all sorts of things once you're away... but you're still my son and a Real Man To Me")

dankovsky loooves black tea with milk and honey literally literally i see if i witness it. so powerfully to me

he wears his gloves out a psychologically-protective measure: when nervous, he scratches the back of his hands, and as such keeps them covered both to hide the fact that he has scars and also to Avoid scratching at all

YULIA

either only child or eldest daughter to me... but i tend to go with only child

also the type who knew reeeaaal early she was gay like thinking what it would be to kiss the girls in her class at age 10

i'm thinking she'd be some sort of eastern european (other than russian) on her mother's side, like ukrainian, polish or slovakian...

canon P2 lore that she plays cello but i need it to me i see it i witness it i #confirm it. i also think she could play the piano or some other very classic instrument, like violin

oh girl she's multilingual... i think on top of russian and her mother's native language i think she speaks At Least french and german, maybe spanish too

i think she's ridden horses a lil before she developed chronic knee pain (and since i think she developed knee pain around 20 she probably rode horses from the ages of like 10 to 18)

she likes to collect musical records but barely listens to them because she likes to be in complete silence with her thoughts (like a freak)

also a huge fan of tea. to me she likes black tea Pitch Black over-infused & really sweet things (again, she'd love chai latte. she could get one with eva. sigh...)

nervous nervous woman, yeah... canon lore that she smokes out of nervousness, i think she used to bite/pick her nails out of nervousness too but then she met eva and. well hurt nails get in the way...

what i got for now :3

#ring ring (answers) #anonymous #pathologic headcanons #yulia lore #dankovsky lore #daniil lore #<- putting both in case i forget

[lady-sci-fi]

“Assimilation” - Data and Picard

(click for Big and Detail)

Text:

Black smoke in our lives Breathing it, breathing it Black smoke in our eyes Blind by it, blind by it We can't run from it We can't hide from it We will give to it If we live through it 

“Black Smoke Assimilation” by Les Friction

https://youtu.be/2mmcfRcOti0

#tng #data #jean-luc picard #star trek : the next generation #art

[gxlden-angels]

Shiny Happy People Thoughts: Episode 2

TW: The Duggar Family

- This episode begins on Josh's crimes and abuse as well as his family's attempts to cover it up

- I thought the documentary would focus more on them, but it's actually going more into how these environments foster so much abuse, which is honestly great but also a lot harder to watch

- Like it's one thing to point at them and say "This is where it could lead" but it's another to say "This is the environmental set-up. It was widespread and you may have grown up with it. Here are some of those factors you may know"

- It's weird to watch a family like the Duggars and go "oh most people think this is weird" like I was never homeschooled but I didn't need to be. We were actively taught that public school would teach you these specific worldly things so ignore those and listen to us instead

- We "had church" at home during birthday parties and holiday dinners or whatever where they sat all us kids down and insisted on teaching us these things

- Older women in the family would tell testimony after testimony about how happy they were being under their husband's protection even if that meant having sex when they were exhausted, not in the mood, and sick

- Men complained about abuse being exposed on the news because they felt like an abused wife should handle it privately at home

- I honestly can't imagine where I'd be if I was homeschooled on top of everything

- I do agree that the insistence on homeschooling only is more of a white evangelical thing. After such a fight to even have the right to get into and finish public school, I think in black evangelical communities it was seen more as a blessing to be able to go to public schools, especially if you convinced your friends to go to church with you

- The 2nd to last church we went to even bribed us into it. They gave us a dollar if we brought our own paper bibles and we had a sticker chart or something if you brought friends we'd eventually get a celebration

- There was also this fear that if you didn't assimilate into white evangelical culture in the South, then you'd end up on the streets doing illegal shit and going to jail or whatever. It's very victim blaming. There was a mix of understanding systemic racism in the U.S while also saying Black people are at fault for not just staying married and spanking their children to prevent them from being "fast"

- Like sure my own parents are older than the Voting Rights Act, but somehow "welfare queens" are the issue. Black communities are very quickly assimilating into the individualist white evangelical mindset of be good and god will bless you individually

- Spare the Kids: Why Whupping Children Won't Save Black America goes into that a lot. People have mixed feelings about it but I related a lot to it

- Black kids in these spheres were seen more as a risk if not raised this way essentially. Don't hang out with so and so's kids they don't go to church, spank their kids or insist on parentifying their older kids and that's how you end up smoking crack or something

- I honestly had to pause during the section about hair. That's a major trigger for me.

- It was such a confusing balance because I was told I need my hair done well because it needed to glorify god and honor my father, but it also couldn't be too beautiful because then I was being vain/causing lust but also my grandfather would tell me he liked me better when my hair was a certain way but also I should focus on what god wanted, not what he wanted but also

- And it was even more difficult with my coils and curls. I relaxed my hair from ages 5 to 15 and it legitimately took years for my hair to recover from it. It was a difficult transition because my grandfather insisted that I was much prettier and more godly to him when my hair was long and relaxed and he even talked about how unattractive my grandmother is between hair styles when her natural hair is out to convince me to start relaxing and stop cutting my hair again

- The insistence on framing your face correctly was wild. I had this unhealthy bob for years because it "framed my face well" like no my hair was one bad summer day from being fried to death and falling out (and sometimes it really did fall out)

- "Instead of learning math, you're leaning slut shaming"

"Don't think about your sisters' boobs. What are you gonna do? Think about your sisters' boobs."

- Unrelated but Bill Gothard looks like a deepfake in every video of him

- They've come back to the effects of parentification. My dad got the worst of it as the oldest of 6. I was parentified but not as much as he was

- "I had to break his will" another hard trigger

- I was told at 11/12ish that I was allowed to spank my younger stepcousins when I was babysitting them. I hate to admit that I did once when the youngest slid down the stair railing she was told not to slide down and I felt so guilty I never did it again. I shouldn't have been told to spank her and I also shouldn't have been put in this situation that young. That was around the time I first developed intrusive thoughts about my family dying so at the time I legitimately thought it was the only way to keep her safe from falling to her death

- "You were spanked until you stopped crying, which could be hours" for me it was "now stop all that crying before I really give you something to cry about" which all seems counterintuitive

- Took another break because of To Train Up Child. Did not have the book growing up, but definitely recognize a lot of the ideas from it. I've talked about it before on this blog

- Its difficult to get through but I also feel such a weight off my shoulders. Like it's one thing to have a therapist say "you're not a bad kid, you were raised in bad circumstances" but it's another to have a docuseries say it. It's another thing to see others have this same uncomfortable bodily reaction. Nervous laughter, moving around, fidgeting, etc.

- "You know, a little psychological terror is sometimes more effective than the pain" I was much more terrified of the threat of being spanked than actually being spanked. I hated the feeling of "I disappointed you enough that you have to plan to hit me later"

- My dad says he remembered spanking me a couple times when I was like 2 and never again. He felt like positive reinforcement and explaining why doing something bad was wrong was more efficient for me cause I liked being helpful, I was just super independent and easily overwhelmed. There's a reason he's the only family member I honestly care to keep contact with

- "Michael and Debi Pearl are some motherfuckers" SAY IT AGAIN LOUDER

- Amy Duggar crying about the "rod of encouragement" made me also tear up. I'm working on the guilt of not being able to change the rest of my family's mind and save my younger family members.

- This episode is harder than the first but it's honestly what I needed right now. I needed a third party to say "you survived the best you could. you're still trying. you can't save everyone, especially if you aren't fully free yourself yet"

- There's stuff I didn't even think of as traumatizing that I realize still controls so much of my actions. This is so good and I highly recommend it so far if you think you can handle it.

- I wasn't blanket trained. My biological parents loved my independence. They loved how much I liked being helpful independently and they never wanted to break that spirit.

- My dad even raised me to focus on education and be able to support myself before I ever got married. I never had a conversation with him about relationships since he felt awkward about it he much preferred I learned from women in the family/church. They taught me purity culture.

- "If a man says he wants you, then he's god's man for you and you have to learn how to adjust your feelings and thoughts around that." This is how my grandparents and uncles saw things. They insisted this was romantic and good. I did a survey of my high school to see if anyone else thought that way and only like 3 out of the 50-60 people I asked did. When I pointed that out to my uncle he said it's because my school was full of sheltered nerds.

- My dad was horrified by all of it. I honestly think watching this documentary could make him deconstruct more than he already has. He's still a christian, but a progressive one. He's still growing each day

- Had a lot of feelings about this one. I think this one hit the hardest cause it essentially explains how these circles groom people, especially young girls.

#SHP Thoughts #I had a lot to say on this one #This one HURT but I feel #less heavy ig? #hopeful? #idk #I talked about my dad a lot with this one #and looking back I honestly think he realized how fucked it all was #and did his best to get away from it #he held me out of range of it as much as he could but there was still stuff holding him back #I think living with his parents again really was the final straw #seeing how I was treated there was his final straw #it's a lot #Genuinely think this is exactly what I needed #ex christian #religious trauma

[just-a-silly-boy]

Ominous Offer of Peace

Just a random lotf fanfic i had writen and decided to translate and post here so i can delete it from my computer. Main character here are Ralph, Jack and Roger.

Sumary: The boat come to rescue them. The former hunters and their prey agreed that everything will be better now. This but darker.

.

Ominous Offer of Peace . . The breeze that came from the sea was not enough to aliviate the heat of the fire behind the boys with painted faces who, as if they had been caught between two different atmospheres, remained static in their places. Their minds slowly assimilated the scene that passed before their eyes. Spectators of a play in which they were also performer. The roar of vegetation crackling under flames made it difficult to hear and fully understand what was being said between the man in an impeccable uniform and the boy in rags and dirt at his feet. Little by little, the former hunters escaped the torpor that gripped them and tried to approach with uncertain steps to the adults, as if magnetically attracted back to civilization. Only one of them stayed static in his place. The tallest of them, who came to the front, looked over his shoulder in his direction. .

The dark hair was glued to his forehead by sweat and that white clay that covered his face hiding his identity and giving him a ghostly appearance. A bright red line ran down his left cheek and blended with the charcoal black to form an obscene grin on the boy's naturally emotionless face. The blood-red stain continued, running down the sweaty neck and meeting more clay and charcoal and fresh blood that coated the heaving chest from the recent run. It was hard to make out the real emotion of the human behind the painting that served its exact purpose, but the eyes were wide open and roamed the scene anxiously. When they met the eyes of the taller boy in front of him, they fixed on one another. . "Roger?" . Jack's voice was almost a whisper, a mixture of a call and a warning. . Roger slowly lowered the spear he still carried in attack position, sticking one of its sharpened ends in the soft sand, and turned with his back to the scene on the beach and to Jack, to look at the giant bonfire that they had made of the island. . Jack looked too. . And his mind became aware of everything that fire was consuming. Vegetation, pigs, flies, and wild violence. . "Are you two injured? Can you tell if there's anyone still in the woods?" . Jack looked at the officer and realized he was addressing him and Roger. They did not answer. He laid a trembling hand on Roger's shoulder and wished his voice wasn't as obviously unsure as he felt. . "It was all an accident. It's not my fault. Not our fault", he said through gritted teeth. "We won't… We won't say-" . "If you say anything I'll kill you." . The dark eyes fixed again on the blue ones. Emotionless. Intense. The corner of Jack's lips curved on what could slightly be a smile under the rigid clay mask and he lowered his hand from Roger's shoulder, and there was blood painting his palm in vivid red. Smoke from the fire rose in thick clouds, blotting out the sunlight and casting shadows over their masked face. Nothing more was said. . . . Ralph had a sickly look like he could throw up or pass out at any moment. He boarded the ship with staggering steps coming in one of the last rescue boats. On the island, now covered in black smoke where the fire was slowly dying out with nothing left to consume, some officers said they had identified what appeared to be a body trapped between the rocks on the steepest part of the coast where the ocean waves crashed against the wall of pink stones at the base of the mountain. He fell there, the tall maskered boy said. It was dark, he triped on the rocks at night, the other explained. Ralph didn't say a thing but he knew whose body it was and how he got there. His own body and mind refused to react with anything other than the tears that still rolled down his face and he couldn't stop them. On board, a tall, thin boy, with poorly washed clay-covered skin and countless freckles and soot in his red hair, came to meet him. . Jack put a hand on Ralph's shoulder, who instinctively flinched in a movement that simultaneously tryied to avoid and seek human contact. With some effort he managed to look into the eyes of the one who had hunted him like a wild pig a few hours ago, but he couldn't tell if what he saw there was recognition or a threat. . "You were right. Everything will be fine now and we can forget about everything that happened." . Jack offered, and over his left shoulder, a few feet behind him, Ralph met Roger's dark gaze assuring their ominous offer of peace.

#lord of the flies #lotf fanfic #lotf ralph #lotf roger #lotf jack #lotf rescue fic #justsillywritings

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

The Primrose Path Pt. 1: Capture

Table of Contents/Intro Post

Content Advisory: Discussion/effects of war, prisoners of war/refugees, cultural clashes/misunderstandings, hints of forced assimilation, fantasy racism, threat of annihilation, death themes, death magic, the undead

The enemy caught them in a clearing, just after they’d finished performing noon prayers. He didn’t regret stopping. Judging from the grim but resolved faces around him, neither did his people. Not even the children whimpered, though, naturally, they clung to their families as the circle of mounted soldiers closed in. His eyes flitted to each Mortigean as they came trotting from the trees. None bore any grafted limbs, thank Cyanos. No tails draped down over their saddles. Not a single horn or tusk sprouted through their battered helmets either. More important, their wickedly curved sickle-swords and less flashy yet effective short swords remained sheathed. Perhaps perversions such as extra body parts were reserved for Mortigean nobility. Equipment cost enough as it was—commissioning a cuirass to accommodate four arms, or sandals for bird feet would likely be a nightmare. Despite the doom surrounding them, his mouth twitched with an improbable smile.

At about fifteen paces, one of the Mortigeans raised a closed fist. The others reined in their mounts. Enough space remained between each horse for a person to run though. Whether they’d be quick enough to avoid being hacked down was another matter. To his relief, none of his people tested their luck.

The soldier in charge nudged their tall chestnut mount forward. His people shuffled back, but he remained rooted to his spot, reckoning what came next. Sure as sunrise, the Mortigean stopped almost within touching range. Their attention fell on him and both took a minute to size each other up.

No beard grew on the soldier’s chin or the jawline he could see beneath their helm’s cheekguards. A woman, as far as initial impressions told him. One who was long, lean, and brown as the loam of the forest, like most Mortigeans. Older than him, but not by more than ten years as far as he could tell. Large eyes the color of smoke and filled with a lifetime’s share of weariness met his. She took in the columns upon columns of scripture adorning his exposed—as well as currently hidden—skin. Scripture he'd retraced every week since his ordination twelve summers past with a paste of clay and honey before sitting in the morning sun to meditate. Beige against deep golden-tan, the words stood out as clearly as ink on paper.

“Priest?” Her inflection almost warped the word into a different one, but he had to give the soldier credit. Most outsiders were too intimidated to even attempt speaking Matroian.

“Yes,” he replied, embarrassed for an absurd moment that he didn’t have a clue how to do so in Mortigean. “I serve Cyanos.”

The name had several of the other Mortigeans spitting onto the ground. It provoked nothing more than a nod from their leader. She lifted her arm to point to the long black and brown striped plumes sprouting from her helm.

“Ara Aleqa.” She lowered her finger to her segmented cuirass. “Ife.”

Ah. Rank and name. A good sign—people didn’t typically introduce themselves to those they intended to murder, not even in Mortigany.

Setting a hand on his chest, he noted his thundering heartbeat. “Thịnh Ân.”

The soldier, Ife, considered that a moment. “Tin Un? Priest Tin Un?”

“Close enough.”

She nodded at the people behind him, who instinctively crowded together tighter, children shielded at their center. “Are running from Sern?”

“Yes. A messenger rode into the village before dawn to warn us you were coming.”

Ife’s mouth mimicked a smile, but sadness shaped every other line on her face. “To where?”

Ân could barely lift his shoulders in a shrug from the burden pressing down on them. “Away from the border. Away from the fighting.” Taking a deep breath, he did his best to keep his next words from rushing out. “Are you going to kill us?”

Shaking her head, the soldier spoke a string of words in her own language. Ân understood just the last three—a name—but they explained everything.

Phan Thí Tiên.

It was his people’s turn to spit on the leaves underfoot. While Ân understood their reactions, he was all too aware that The Exile Queen’s soft spot for her former homeland was the only thing sparing them from the sword. Or worse.

Despite the sunshine beaming into the clearing, Ân shuddered. “Are you going to damn us?”

Tilting her head, Ife fixed him with a puzzled stare. His hands shaking even as he reflected how silly he must look, Ân pointed to the sickle sword sheathed at her hip, drew a finger across his throat, then lifted his arms straight out in front of him, doing his best to mimic the blank expression of someone who’d had their soul ripped away by dark sorcery. More than likely he just looked like a queasy drunkard.

Guffaws and snickers broke out amongst the Mortigeans. While Ife silenced them with a hiss, he caught the way her lips kept trying to wiggle up into a smile.

“No,” she told him. “Taking all. Moving.”

“Where?”

In answer, he received a shrug and apologetic grimace. Knowledge above her rank, apparently. Ân bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling something foolish at the Mortigeans. They marched in from their light-forsaken country, drove his people—simple woodcrafters, hunters, artisans, all with families, with children, with elders, with sick—out of their homes. And they hadn’t even thought to ask their superiors what might become of their captives.

Then again, they’d have to care enough to wonder. As much as he wanted to, there was no point in cursing at them. They’d chosen to follow orders rather than conscience, just as they’d embraced darkness. Pleas or sermons wouldn’t change that, not in a day at least. Likely not in a year either.

“Are you going to tear our families apart?” he asked, voice weary and drained from his struggle to keep his emotions tethered to reason.

A dent of confusion appeared between Ife’s brows. Ân gestured to a child of about nine summers clinging to her mother—little Kam and Thoa, the village smith. He pressed his hands together, as close as parent and daughter, before jerking them apart. Understanding sparked in Ife’s gaze.

“No…” She dragged out the word before pointing to him, then Thoa and Kam. Putting her own palms together, she pulled them away from each other.

So, the Mortigeans meant to divide the villagers by gender? Or keep immediate family together but separate distant or non-relatives? Ân supposed it didn’t matter in the end. The tactic would have the same effect: to demoralize and better control their prisoners, keeping the people of Matroi from forming an organized resistance. He figured he ought to be grateful their lives would be spared. Instead, he could do nothing for a moment except silently despise Phan Thị Tiên for not having the decency to die alongside her royal parents five years ago.

“Illuminator.”

The sound of his proper title fished him out of the dark whirlpool of his thoughts. Ân turned his attention back to the village smith. Studied the strong arms hugging her child to her side. Suppressed a flinch as he met the huge, fear-shiny eyes of tiny Kam.

“Illuminator, what should we do?” asked Thoa. Though her expression remained sturdy with determination, her own stare had more in common with her daughter’s than just color and shape.

The question looked far into the future—too far for Ân to see. However, the immediate answer was as clear as the tense, worry-bleached faces turned toward him.

“Go with the heathens. Don’t fight them by force.”

Cries of dismay and protest erupted, but he silenced them with a glare and clap of his hands.

“Give thanks to Cyanos they don’t just slit our throats and raise us back as undead slaves right here. And you forget two of the Radiant Gifts even as the sun shines directly on us: Courage and Tenacity. This may look like the end of Matroi in our limited vision, but surely the god has set us on this path with a purpose. Mortigany may invade our borders and divide us physically, but they do so at their peril. Remember, the word and will of Cyanos goes where we do. So, I say let them bring us deep into the heart of their lands! Watch and listen for the moment the god calls you to action, whether with blade or blessings, then strike with all of your might.”

Hope sparked in his people’s dim stares, rekindling the dying embers of his own. Turning back to the Mortigeans, a vicious breed of satisfaction flexed its claws in his chest to see some of them had rested their hands on their weapons, postures wary. They were wise to be. Resistance took many forms, some only growing stronger the more hardship thrown in the way. First thing was first, however. He had to make sure everyone lived to see another day.

Ân held out his arms, palms up. “Very well. We will go with you as long as you don’t abuse us. Where are we being taken?”

Relaxing only partway in her saddle, Ife gestured northeast. “Camp. Dejaza Negasi will be deciding where to put all.”

“There are elders and children with us. Others who have difficulty walking too.”

After a few sharp commands, about a score of Ife’s soldiers dismounted without attempting to hide their grumbling. Despite himself, Ân let the knot in his guts unravel. At least Mortigeans remembered a few basic human decencies. Horses were a precious commodity, always needed on the front lines, so his own people had done their best to pull those who needed help keeping up in what small carts they had—and in makeshift litters of branches and blankets when they’d run out of those. Though Ife’s orders had more to do with expedience than mercy, Ân wasn’t about to complain.

He kept the same attitude throughout the march that followed. He didn’t have much breath to spare for it anyhow. The Mortigeans didn’t set a brutal pace, but their speed made it clear they wanted to reach their camp sooner rather than later. Though Ân preferred the open plains of central Matroi and always would, traveling in the heat of summer wasn’t for anyone without a sturdy constitution. The shade of the borderland forests made a journey much more bearable. Still, he plopped down with a sigh on a mossy log the moment they paused to rest a couple of hours later. Buzzing legs stretched straight out is where Ife found him. Helm tucked under one arm, she walked over and watched in silence for several moments while he folded and tucked the prongs of a maple leaf.

“What is this you do?” she asked at last.

“A tradition from my home region. We fold leaves or squares of paper into birds. Vultures or hawks mostly, since they ride the thermals and fly highest. Along the coasts they make kites of gulls or pelicans instead.

She swiped away a trickle of sweat from her temple with a forearm, cuirass clinking with the movement. “Doing why?”

“Well, once you’re done folding, you tell the bird your wishes or prayers, then let it go on the wind to carry your words to Cyanos.”

“No plain here. No wind. No Matroi. Old forest. Deep.” Though her tone stayed light, her meaning weighed the corners of her mouth down into a frown.

He paused to stick his hand under one of the shafts of sunlight streaming through the canopy. “Yet Cyanos is still here.”

“Thinking he can hear you?”

“I doubt some trees are going to block him out, no matter how big or old.”

A whole conversation had amassed on Ife’s tongue. Lacking the Matroian words to organize it, however, she could only gaze at him with soft eyes and a hard line for a mouth, as if he were a child tracking mud into the house.

“Many ears, Tin Un,” she replied finally. “Not only your sun god.”

That he couldn’t argue with. Ân watched her put her helmet back on and return to where her horse nosed at the leaf litter, searching for something to graze. As she roused the other soldiers, a strange chill crept up from the base of his spine. He didn’t know what to make of Ife’s warning—if warning it was. The Mortigeans had acted annoyed more than anything else in their dealings with the villagers. They wouldn’t have been so lenient toward anyone who caused trouble, but Ân had confidence the council he’d given his people would hold at least until they were separated.

No plain here. No wind. No Matroi.

Did she mean her own gods were listening? The Mortigeans did have patrons of wind and water and wood, just as Matroi did. What they would care for a lone Illuminator he had no idea.

Unless…

The shiver slithering along his spine sent tendrils to touch his heart. Ân eyed the shade of the trees. The shadows that pooled in the crannies of ancient roots. The hollows and screens of branches that might conceal owls, possums, or other nocturnal agents. But no…Cyanos still had another few hours before he had to leave them in the care of his children, the stars, while he slept. The most infamous member of Mortigany’s pantheon wouldn’t dare show their ghastly face while the sun held sway in the sky.

“I’d like to see them try,” he told the leaf-bird perched in his hand despite the shards of frost stuck between his ribs. “Give me the strength to do what I can, what I must, when the time comes. That’s all I ask.”

Before the march resumed, Ân scrambled up the nearest tree, ignoring the peculiar looks it earned him from Mortigean and Matroian alike. He nestled his little bird confidant in the crook of the lowest branch. Like all believers, it would find its way to the light.

Part 2: Answered Prayers

#beyond & between #fantasy #fantasy romance #fantasy story