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deathblightprince · 1 year

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A Request

A long lore dabble. 1929 words. Fluff with hints of angst.

Summary: Godwyn enters communion to ask Lionel a very important question regarding himself and Fia.

Notes: This is an AU version of Godwyn I have created for this RP blog. This is a divergent canon fic. Also, I don't know if Lionel is tarnished so I'm just assuming he is, don't @ me.

Gnarled black roots wrapped tightly around his wrists, thorns pushing with a force that threatened to pierce his skin. The sting that came with this ritual was not new to him. He sought to embrace the sting, for it was a gateway to his realm.

He had come to learn that his newly found abilities made communication with Those Who Live in Death, and Fia's Champions easy and relatively fast. During his and Fia's stay in the Roundtable Hold, using Communion to his realm was essential to communicating his orders to Those Who Live in Death. Even now that he resides back within the deeply nestled roots of the Erdtree, he found communion more efficient than getting up somewhere high above the decaying masses and making a speech.

However, this night he would not make any orders to his subjects. Rather, he entered communion to speak to one person to ask for something. Something of great importance, something that could alter the course of his new life.

As the thorns pierced his skin and his blood began to drip, he felt his immediate surroundings fade away. The crackling fireplace and the faint sound of Fia lightly snoring gave way to the sound of dripping water and corpse flies. His sight fogged to see a more dark and gloomy area that was lined with deathroot from the walls to the ground. It leads upwards, reaching far above his head, twisting around the Erdtree roots like a parasite.

This was his tomb. The heart of his realm, and the heart of the new upcoming age.

His voice broke through the sound of water and flies. "Come forth Lionel the Lionhearted, Champion of Fia." Like many of his dutiful subjects of the living dead, a man adorned in abnormally rotund armor stepped forward from the fog. His great Epee slung over his shoulder and his staff hanging from his other hand.

He offered a courteous bow to The Prince of Death. "You summoned me, Lord Godwyn?" His voice was slightly muffled within the disk-like mask. The hunk of metal tilted upwards to see the Prince through pinholes.

"Aye, I hath summoned thee here for an important question." He answered Lionel, his cloudy eyes laid upon his oddly-shaped visage.

"Of course, my lord." While Lionel’s voice spoke of calm compliance, he couldn't help but wonder anxiously why Godwyn would want to ask him about anything.

"Fear not, for I do not wish to quiz thee. Prithee, humor me, will thou?" Sensing his tension, Godwyn attempted to cut the growing tension. He knew Lionel was more loyal to Fia than him, and understandably so.

"Very well." Lionel nods.

Godwyn started with a long breath. "As thou'rt aware, Fia has survived the deathbed ritual whilst resurrecting me. She has not left mine side, even after recovery. She has become my companion not only in death but within mine new life. Before my new life, thou hath dedicated thyself to protecting her with thy sword and staff. Thou hath declared thyself to be her father, protecting her like she was thy flesh and blood, correct?"

"Yes." Lionel nods once more. "I cared for her like my own child. In turn, she offered me purpose and a peaceful death once I lost my sight of grace."

"Fia tends to nurture the soul of those she comes across." Godwyn offered a soft smile. "She offered beyond nurture for mine own soul. She offered me comfort, solace, and intimacy when I trusted no one else. She has become my rock. A constant companion through it all..." Godwyn continued.

"So I must ask you, Lionel, the Lionhearted... Will thou accept mine proposal to take Fia's hand in marriage?"

Lionel was almost stunned to silence. First, he stared at the Prince silently through his helmet, then a muffled chortle escaped him.

"My Lord, what you're asking for is no easy decision."

"I understand. Thou may tell me what grips thee." The question was finally out, but Godwyn couldn't rest just yet. He needed to hear Lionel’s concerns and quell them before he could get an answer.

"She does not understand this world like the two of us." Lionel's tone noticeably dropped low. "She has lived a very... macabre sheltered life. Grace had essentially uprooted her, torn her away from the only life she knew. I met her when she still had that flicker of grace. She was so scared... of everyone, and everything. She had no real way of defending herself from anything, even hawks or wolves. All she could do was hide away and stay out of sight. I happened to stumble upon her hideaway when I was exploring the woods of Limgrave. She attempted to flee, but I stopped her. It took her so long to come down from tears so she could tell me her name."

Lionel knew more about Fia's past than Godwyn. While Fia had told Godwyn bits and pieces of her past life as a deathbed companion, he had not known of her life when she freshly rose from grace. He had assumed that it didn't matter much to Fia, or that it was too painful for her to remember. She often shied away from speaking about things that were painful for her to remember, like memories of lost childhood friends.

"Thoust were driven to care for her in her time of need, yes?" Godwyn inquired.

"Correct. It wasn't immediate. It took time for her to warm up to me. To tell me about herself, and what she was doing there. I don't know what exactly drew me to her at the time, but I believe it was because she looked like my own daughter. Same hair and eyes, a soft voice. If she looked much younger I would have thought it was her."

"Thou hath a daughter of thy own?" Godwyn perked up curiously.

"Yes. She was my wee flower. She was a fragile little thing, her health had failed her since the day she was born. She passed away when she was about 10…” Lionel’s tone had become more sorrowful.

"Fia has a gentle soul like hers... It killed me to have seen her in her darkest hours. I just felt compelled to help her. Who else would in a world like this? The next tarnished would have likely killed her."

Godwyn winced at the thought of someone hurting Fia. It's one thing to consider the dangers she had to face, but the mere thought of her getting hurt or killed while she was alone genuinely upset him.

Pushing those thoughts to the side, Godwyn swallowed a lump in his throat. "I am genuinely sorry for thy loss. Truly, I cannot imagine how painful that must hath been. I... I can see why thou hath cared for Fia like thy own."

"I call her my daughter because she is my daughter. I love her as much as I love my flesh and blood. I braved through Linurnia and Altus Plateau to reach Leyendell with her at my side. I was fatally wounded by one of those damned tree sentinels, and she was there for my last breath. She would have probably tried to revive me if she already didn't make up her mind to revive you."

Godwyn furrowed his brows, panged by the undertones of anguish that rode within Lionel's speech. The pain of losing a loved one, finding another, and working tooth and nail to get them where they need to be. His intentions were pure to protect and uplift, all in memory of his late daughter.

"If thoust do not mind I ask, how did she come to learn about me? When did she make the decision to revive me?" He asked cautiously, not wanting to prod further into raw nerves that still needed time to grieve. Godwyn was curious about how Fia came to know about him and his story. This was something Fia had yet to tell herself. After this, he would have to ask for her perspective given the time and comfort.

"I lent her my invitation to the Roundtable Hold. Once she was there, she spent her time reading up on the Landscape of The Lands Between. I don't know what specific books she read, but one of them mentioned you. She slowly pieced together your past by reading different books. Then she found a book specifically about The Night of The Black Knives, and you became the center of her attention from then on. She could hardly stop talking about you for the first month. A few months later, she tells me you gave her purpose once again, and that was to revive your banished soul." Lionel did not sound perturbed by Godwyn's request for information. He readjusted the Eepee slung over his shoulder and glanced at the side, viewing the dozens of souls that wandered Godwyn's realm. Many of them were warriors from times long gone.

"She could not fight, she could hardly even survive on her own. She would have been destined to die if I didn't find her. She had little motivation to follow the guidance of grace. She felt like she had lost her purpose, and that she was worthless and doomed to wander until death found her. I remember the day she came to me one night on my travels, her eyes alight while she spoke to me of a Demi-God who once fought and defeated the ancient dragons, only to befriend one of them and bring peace and diplomacy to The Lands Between. How the Demi-God was slain in the night, and now his soul is gone while his body continues to live. She was smitten with you, I would say. It appears she still is." Lionel’s tone noticeably picked up.

Godwyn snickered at Lionel's comment. Fia wished not to die after reviving him, that should tell Godwyn how smitten she truly was.

"I believe so." He smiled at Lionel. "She is the flicker in my eyes. She is what wills me to get up in the morning. She gave me the wings to fly, and now she is the wind beneath my wings. I could not hath gone this far without her." There is a brief pause between them.

"Will you make me a promise, my Lord?" Lionel asks.

"Of course."

"Do you promise me that you will continue to care for her, give her life more purpose than just reviving you?"

"Aye, I will.” Godwyn nodded. “I wish to make her my consort. She will become a queen and a mother to Those Who Live in Death. She will be a beacon to our new faith and philosophy. Mine consort eternal within the Age of Duskborn."

There was a lull of silence between them. Lionel pondered his final answer to The Prince for a few moments.

"Very well." He finally answers. “You have my blessing, my Lord."

Godwyn's smile grew into a grin as a feeling of relief and joy welled up inside of him. This is it, he's going to pop the question to Fia. He's going to marry his deathbed companion, and soon he shall be a god with his consort eternal at his side.

He bows reverently to Lionel. "My dearest thanks, Lionel."

"It is an honor, my Prince," Lionel responds, offering a bow in return. "Shall I go now?"

"Thou may leave now. Thy work is done here."

With that conclusion, Lionel dissolves into a fine grey mist. Godwyn then severs the root that connected him to his realm, returning to the Lands Between.

#{ verse: prince of death }#{ dabble }#{fia: my deathbed companion}#godwyn the prince of death #lionel the lionhearted #elden ring #elden ring fanfic

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loveislattes · 3 years

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Everything Comes at a Price (Demon!Dark/Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

Commission prompt: Reader is really depressed, and Dark decides to roughly Fuck the depression out of them

Important: Reader has female pronouns and is a vagina owner!

Warnings (For this chapter specifically): Talk of depression and stressful life, mentions of unnamed character death, mentions of beheading/dismembered head and some minor blood/gore (not too detailed), cursing, mentions of family in the hospital, demon!Dark (akin to jinn or genie), and pet names.

A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! This first chapter is allllll story setting. Part two will have the good ol' rough and dominating Dark fucking.

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

“Look, I think it’s just best if you take some time off.”

Though worded nicely, you instinctually felt the pang of panic and anger already bristling in your chest.

“Time off…” you murmur, eyes sliding down to your boss’s desk in thought, “As in, a week or two or…?”

You let the implication hang heavy in the air. There was a telling silence that followed your question. When you finally met his gaze again, your boss let out a hefty sigh. Before he even said anything, you knew what his answer was by the sympathy on his face alone.

“We won’t fight your unemployment for the first few months, which hopefully will be enough time for you to find another place of employment. I’m sorry, Miss Y/N, but between the company making cutbacks and your recent drop in productivity, I had to-”

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed sharply, interrupting him before he could finish the excuse.

Rage fueled your motions, forcing you to your feet while your eyes narrowed on the man you’d once thought a decent person.

“A drop in productivity?” you scoffed, “My apartment building was just destroyed in a freak fire two weeks ago that, of course, my insurance refused to cover. I’ve been bouncing place to place between motels and friend’s homes until I can afford another deposit on the measly pay you give us. My mother is in the hospital, in the ICU, after a freak hit and run. My car broke down yesterday and I walked thirty fucking minutes in the pouring rain today just to make sure you assholes weren’t a man down with all this work. And you knew all of this, but you still decided to fire me? I can’t- You know what, fuck you. Fuck you and fuck this place! I hope this whole company shuts down and you get to experience even a modicum of the instability I’ve had to!”

Before he could respond, you slammed the chair back into place against the desk and stormed from the room. You could feel the confused gazes from your coworkers as you marched to the door but didn’t dare spare them a glance. Most of them you considered to be your friends and you knew you’d have to explain everything later, but you couldn’t allow anything other than anger to inhabit your body at that moment. One bit of sadness and you would crumble. Rage would keep you safe until you made it to your temporary home for the night.

Little curses and fury-filled resentment spilled from your lips as you stepped out into the dreary public. Of course, it was still raining. You hadn’t even dried off from your trek to work and now you were thrown right back out into the storm. A timely crack of lightning rumbled across the sky as you shot one last middle finger back at the door.

“I can’t believe this shit,” you grumbled.

Pulling your raincoat up over your head, you kept your gaze down and began your journey back to the hotel. The one upside to all the rain was that the sidewalks were nearly barren. Cars sped by on the busy roads but you were alone on foot. In fact, you didn’t see a single soul until you were on the block housing your hotel, and somehow that lonely occupant still managed to slam into you.

“Excuse you,” you muttered.

“So sorry, please excuse me.”

The person’s voice sent shivers down your spine and every last hair stood up on your arms. Reflexively you pulled back as a hand touched your side, ready to give them a mouthful, but they were moving on by the time you could gather your wits about you. All you caught was a tall form in a black business suit striding off in the opposite direction.

With an irked tsk and a mutter of “Fucking asshole”, you rushed into the lobby, stomping the rain from your shoes along the rubber mat. Sure you were pissed off but you still had the human decency not to create more work for others.

You managed a little nod to the desk clerk on your way by to the elevator. As you watched the numbers climb slowly down, you mentally questioned the fates if the world was against you. The elevator stopped on literally every- single- floor; All 25. Trying to maintain your composure, you leaned up against the wall and let your eyes flutter closed, slowly breathing in and out rhythmically. Just a little longer and you’d be in the safety of solitude. You could let it all out.

The ding of the lift doors opening pulled you out of your little meditative session and you immediately let out a grateful sigh of appreciation upon realizing it was empty. Being stuck in a small metal box with others for an undetermined amount of time made your skin crawl, much less when you were already on the edge of snapping. You mashed the close button repeatedly until the metal doors finally sealed shut and the elevator began to move. The rest of the journey was a blur until you stopped at your room door and fished your card out of your pocket, coming out with not only the plastic key but a large silver coin.

“The fuck?” you muttered.

As the door buzzed open, you flipped the coin over in your fingers, trying to think back on when you had gotten it. You were pretty sure you’d never seen anything like it before; completely void of any details on one side but the other filled with finely engraved words.

The loud startling thump of your keys as you threw them on the nightstand wasn’t even enough to draw your concentration away from the interesting little trinket. It took a few minutes and some good lighting but you eventually figured out what was written; the discovery only confusing you further.

“Clutch this coin to thee whilst ye make a plea

In return ye shall become my endless devotee”

“Yeah… that’s not creepy at all,” you sighed.

Tossing the coin on the nightstand next to your keys, you sloughed off your wet clothes and tossed them in the small hamper next to your duffle bag. After this horrid morning, you needed a long hot shower before you pondered on any strange coins or the mental shithole that had become your life.

You weren’t sure exactly how long you spent under the burning water but, by the time you exited, you were both hungry and in dire need of some caffeine.

“Or a nap. A nap could be heavenly,” you murmured to yourself.

Towel around your head, you dropped into the bed naked and took a moment to revel in the sheets against your freshly lotioned skin. There was hardly a better feeling. Thank god you had the good sense to buy some of your own sheets rather than rely on whatever the hotels had to offer. It made your day the tiniest bit better.

As you leaned back against the headboard, you snagged up the coin once more. The metal was cool against your warm fingers as you flipped it around and around. Did you dare give it a try? What was the worst outcome: You felt silly for believing a random coin and no one would ever know? Although, what if it was legit...?

Now that thought made you feel silly. A little chuckle passed your lips before you clasped the coin between your hands and brought it to your chest, closing your eyes as if about to pray.

“Alright, I don’t know how this works so I’m just gonna state my wishes out loud. I hope that works for, well, whoever you are. First off, I want that backstabbing business ruined. They fucked me over after I bent over backward for them, now they deserve to feel the same. Please. Second, I don’t know how you could do it, but I’d really like my insurance company to finally approve my apartment claim so I can find another place soon. Third-”

You trailed off as emotions immediately welled up behind your eyelids, the burning already tingling in the back of your throat from holding them in.

“My third and most important wish, please, if nothing else, find the one that put my mom in the ICU and make them pay. Those idiots down at the police department couldn’t find them, or so they say anyway, so just… give them what they deserve, please.”

With a stifled sniffle, you wiped away the few tears that had escaped and fell back against the headboard, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling as you let the pain wash over you; Rage, dread, hope, apathy, desperation. Eventually, the unending barrage became too much to deal with. This wasn't a new thing in your life, but it had certainly culminated into something worse with everything going on in your life; clinical depression exacerbated by a series of unfortunate events.

With no other plans for the day and the weight of your heart heavy in your chest, you chose to simply roll over and bury yourself, and your troubles, in the fluffy comforter. You’d feel better after a nap. You were almost certain of it.

Even as you drifted off into sleep, the tears didn’t cease.

When you first woke, you weren’t sure what had roused you but you knew it wasn’t good; All you could feel was bone-trembling terror. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, felt frozen in place with only the ability to stare at the now dimly lit wall; watching the shafts of setting sunlight ever so slowly creep down by the minute.

“Come now, darling,” a low voice crooned in the void behind you, “I know you’re awake.”

Like a rubber band snapping, the grip on your body suddenly released and you shot up in bed, immediately turning around to find out who had spoken. You weren’t sure what you expected but it certainly wasn’t the devilishly handsome man that was seated next to the window. The sunlight pouring down on him made it very obvious that his skin was lacking any range of melanin, rather being pallor shades of whites, blacks, and greys, but that didn't detract from his appearance at all. In fact, he looked like something out of a Gothic romance novel or a Tim Burton movie. Once the enchantment of seeing him began to wear off, you finally noticed what sat on the table next to him.

A human head.

“Holy fuck!”

A hellish screech escaped your lips as you hastily scrambled backward, trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible, only to go careening off the edge of the mattress. The pain of impact on the floor couldn’t even deter you. As your back hit the wall, you kept your eyes pinned on the intruder, watching for any sign that he was going to follow you or attack.

“While I’m certainly not minding the show, don’t you think you’re rather underdressed for this occasion?” he spoke suddenly.

It took a few moments for his words to sink in but the moment they did, you launched yourself back at the bed with a hushed curse and promptly pulled the sheets up around your naked body.

“Who are you? How did you get in here? I-Is- Is that real?”

Long clawed fingers made their way into the matted, bloody mess of hair and pulled the body part free from the table with a sickening pop.

“It is undoubtedly real, but I figured you’d believe me much quicker if I had a visual aide to my claims,” he replied, dropping the offending thing before tossing you a sharp, seductive, smile, “The name is Dark. I’m a demon and the owner of the coin you wished upon.”

Your tongue felt too heavy to move while you watched in horror as he licked the blood from his fingers like a cat bathing itself.

“I- I don’t-”

“You don’t understand,” he supplied helpfully.

As he rose from his seat, you stared at him owlishly, unable to take your eyes off his graceful form as he nearly glided across the floor to stand in front of you.

“That coin,” he hummed, pointing at the metal disc in question, “It belongs to me. When someone makes a wish while holding it, I’m able to hear them. In your case, I heard all three.”

Trepidation tickled the nape of your neck when your eyes slowly rolled over to the head once more. It was as if you couldn’t breathe. Sick crawled up your throat and it took every ounce of your strength to keep from vomiting at the man’s feet. You don’t know how long you sat there, struggling to breathe and ease the nausea but, when it finally went away, rage took over.

“I didn’t want you to actually KILL them!” you shouted.

The demon casually arched a brow in your direction before saying, “You specifically wished for the one involved in your mother’s accident to get what they deserved.”

“Yeah! Like prison! Not death!”

A soul-trembling crack resounded through the small hotel room as he slowly craned his neck side to side, ethereal pulses of red and blue emanating from his being. Some of the previous ire slipped from your hold when he moved even closer, step by step until his knees were touching yours.

“I will never understand you humans and your sense of righteousness. Would it ease your mind to know this wasn’t the first time they had committed such heinous crimes?” he asked.

“W-What?” you questioned softly.

“I will not delve into details but rest assured that your embarrassing sense of compassion was lost on them; they were vermin,” he explained, “Now, that makes three wishes fulfilled. You have two remaining.”

You thought back on exactly what wishes you had made and were immediately overcome with dismay.

“Wait, what did you do?!” you demanded, jumping to your feet and glaring up at him, “You didn’t kill anyone else, did you?!”

A twinge of disdain passed through his features. His hand landed heavily on your shoulder and you were shoved back down onto the bed with a 'tsk' of disapproval, as if scolding a misbehaving child.

“Fortunately for you, no. Your previous place of employment has simply been condemned for multiple code violations that have mysteriously come to light during a surprise investigation, and your insurance company has been informed that they’re facing a lawsuit if they don’t reevaluate your claim with a more positive outlook.”

Relief flushed through your veins and you thanked him meekly. You wouldn’t have been able to live your life knowing you had caused the deaths of so many people, let alone friends.

“So, what now?” you asked.

“You have two more wishes before your soul belongs to me.”

He said it with such finality and ease that you almost didn’t react at first. Once his words settled in though, oh, panic quickly followed.

Gaping up at him in wide-eyed disbelief, you tried to stammer out some rebuttal or plea, but nothing would come out. Panic soon gave way to defeat as you realized there was no obvious way to get out of this ordeal. It had been clear as day on the coin.

Thinking on the offending piece of metal, you looked over and snagged it up, reading the inscription once more.

“Clutch this coin to thee whilst ye make a plea

In return ye shall become my endless devotee”

“So that’s what this meant,” you sighed quietly, before gazing at him once more, “And there’s no way to bargain out of this?”

He looked mildly pleased by your inquiry, letting out a little hum before falling back into an ornate chair that definitely hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.

“And what would you bargain?” he purred, “What could a simple little human such as yourself have to give to me, other than your soul of course.”

You cursed his infallible logic and stayed quiet as you tried to think over your options. Truly, you had nothing else to give him; no money nor gifts. Your soul was the only valuable thing you owned, and there was no undoing what had been done. A person had died because of your wish.

With a heavy sigh, you sat up to your full height and prepared yourself mentally.

“Is there a time limit? Do I have to make my wishes today or can I think about them?” you asked.

“You’re free to use them when and wherever you wish. However, do not think this a loophole. Choosing to postpone your wishes until death does not release you from this contract. Your soul will still belong to me when you die.”

Well fuck. There went that option. If you were doomed no matter what, you might as well make use of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity... right?

“I’m going to need time,” you whispered.

“Fair enough,” he replied, finally taking a step back, “You have my calling card. You can call for me if you have any questions, otherwise, you know what to do.”

He strolled back to the window and snagged the dismembered head, flashing you a wide smirk that framed his fangs perfectly.

“I’ll just be taking this with me. Hope to hear from you soon, darling.”

#Demon!Dark #Dark/reader #female reader #PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS PEOPLE #This chapter is a little dark #heh... dark #pun not intended #two part series #Chapter 1

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simplyswooningk · 3 years

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Fanfiction Teaser: The Strategist| Coming April 2021 to FF.net and A03 | Chapter One, “The Professor & The Madman”

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Ron and Hermione

Premise: Begins Post Half-Blood Prince. “Wars are not for children,” Arthur said with a deep sigh.

“It’s a good thing I’m not a kid anymore, isn’t it, Dad?”

The Strategist

“War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”-J.R.R Tolkien

“The Minstrel-Boy to the War has gone! In the ranks of death, you will find him. His father’s sword he hath girded on and his wild harp slung behind him. ‘Land of song,’ said the warrior-bard, ‘Though all the world betrays thee. One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard. One faithful harp shall praise thee.’”-Thomas Moore

One:

The Professor & The Madman

Ronald Weasley had never seen Hogwarts so silent. The place seemed frozen, stuck, dead. He shuddered at his train of thought. It had been barely an hour since Albus Dumbledore, largely regarded as the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had ever known, had been laid to rest.

His murderer, Professor Snape, was gone, had left like the ruddy coward he was along with the rest of the Death Eaters. Snape had never been anywhere near Ron’s favorite teacher, but he never could have imagined anything like this. To make matters worse, Dumbledore had trusted Snape. That mistake had cost him everything.

Ron found himself sitting on the Quidditch Pitch. It was empty, no one had a thought for Quidditch. The days of worrying about his Keeper abilities and how to pass his N.E.W.T.S seemed as far away as his life before Hogwarts.

His parents were catching up with old friends, but they had announced that they would be leaving in two hours, his mother was especially was eager for him and Ginny to be at home. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he wouldn’t be staying long.

Dumbledore had given Harry Potter a mission. You Know Who had a secret, several of them it seemed, and they had to find them all and destroy them. Horcruxes.

He, Harry and Hermione Granger were setting off a mission to find and destroy each of those Horcruxes. Seven of them. Two had already been dispensed. And one would only be gone when He Who Must Not Be Named popped his clogs for good.

Apparently, they could be anything. One they knew about. It was the locket of Slytherin. But who knew where they would find that?

And then there was this mysterious R.A.B character who had somehow stolen the locket. No one had the foggiest idea who he was. So, they were heading headlong into disaster without a clue as to what to do.

He honestly shouldn’t have been surprised. After his first year at Hogwarts, having to deal with a giant, living chess set and then a murderous diary, a violent tree and a killer snake in his second had pretty much taught him to be prepared for anything.

There was a part of him that wanted to just go home. A part of him that wanted spend a quiet summer at home, go to Hogwarts for his seventh year and start life in the real world.

But he knew he was kidding himself. With Dumbledore gone and You-Know-Who gaining ground every second, if they didn’t end it, there wouldn’t be a real world. So, he would fight. There was nothing to do but fight. He knew Hermione felt the same way, but if he could’ve kept her away from it all, he would. More than anything, he wanted to keep her safe.

Harry had disappeared somewhere off with Ginny, and although he had had his reservations about their relationship, there were far worse guys for his only sister to date. Although she couldn’t have picked a more troublesome bloke.

Then again, Ginny had always liked trouble. She'd be coming back to school next year. Ron couldn’t imagine what Hogwarts would be like without Dumbledore.

He looked up to the window where the old Headmaster’s office had been. It was hard to imagine anyone else ever being there.

Hs eyes fell to the window where Potions class was. Snape had taught there, pretending that he wasn’t a Death Eater, pretending that he could be trusted. The whole thing made him want to vomit and then punch something.

And then he thought of Slughorn. He apparently had written a fucking book for Voldemort: How To Make A Horcrux: A Guide for Fucking Demented Psychopaths. His mother had often told him that not all Slytherins were evil, but the whole lot of them seemed to be nothing but trouble.

But then again, if he’d wrote the book, he might have the answers.

He made his way back into the castle, grabbed the Marauder's Map from Harry’s trunk and searched for Slughorn’s name. He was in a part of the castle Ron had never ventured. But there was no time for trepidation now.

He made his way to the Teacher’s Wing. He found himself outside Slughorn’s quarters. He knocked, but there was no answer. Normally, he would’ve turned away, but it was no time to waste on civilities.

He walked in. “Professor? Professor Slughorn?”

He heard some shuffling about and he instantly reached for his wand. These days, no one could be too careful.

“Oh, Mr. Wemby!” Ron fought the urge not to roll his eyes. This man literally had taught generations of his entire fucking family and he couldn’t remember his last name. It wasn’t as if they all bore a strong family resemblance and had the same hair color.

Oh, wait a second, it was.

What made it worse was that he’d nearly died because of Slughorn and a box of Love Potion-tainted chocolate cauldrons.

“How are you, my boy? Avoiding more poisonings, I hope?”

“Doing my best, sir,” Ron said with a smile. “If I might have a word?”

“Certainly, my boy,” said the aged professor and Ron noted that he took a rather pointed look at his hourglass. “Although I am in quite of a hurry.”

“You’re leaving Hogwarts?”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t dare. Now, with everything that’s happened. You-Know-Who will come for this place, I guarantee you. Someone will have to help watch over the students. No, I was just heading down to the greenhouses. With Death Eaters knocking on every corner, there’s a couple of plants that I should like to have on hand.”

Ron nodded and squared his shoulders. “Well, I won’t take up too much of your time, sir. Sir, I’m aware of what you gave Harry about...You-Know-Who.”

Ron watched the professor’s face go white. “Sir, believe, I’m not here to give you a hard time about it,” he said quickly. “I just want your help with something.”

Professor Slughorn’s back straightened. "I've already given Harry everything.” His voice was stiff and dismissive, but Ron didn’t have time to get upset.

“I know. But I was just wondering, is there anything else you know that might be helpful. You see, Harry’s going to try and destroy all of the Horcruxes. That’s right, he did make Horcruxes, sir. Six of them, apparently. I'm going with Harry. Me and Ms. Granger. Is there anything you know that may be able to help us? Anything about Horcruxes, anything about You-Know-Who. Dumbledore said you were his favorite teacher.”

The professor scoffed. “Ah yes, my claim to fame. The favorite teacher of the Darkest Wizard our world has ever known. What a nice epithet that will be, I’m sure. Of course, Harry would go for the Horcruxes. He’s Dumbledore’s man through and through.” Slughorn turned thoughtful for a moment. “That may not always be a good thing, mind you. Sit down, Weatherby.”

Ron did as he was told.

“I really shouldn’t tell you much,” the professor began. “It would be quite... well, I suppose none of that will even matter.” He sighed and Ron thought he was looking at a man who was clearly at war with himself.

“I’ve often thought about that night, the night I told him about some of the darkest magic known to Wizarding kind. I believed his curiosity natural, admirable. How wrong I was. The first thing you ought to know is that none of the items will be insignificant. They'll be things that were important to him. But they’ll also be things considered magically significant. He likes power, he like things connected with the past. Dumbledore—,” his voice caught briefly as he mentioned the old Headmaster, “may have told you as much. And his favorite place is this school. It is the only place he ever felt at home.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “Do you think one of the objects is here, sir?”

“Well, there could be no better hiding place, could there?”

“Sir, do you know how to destroy one?”

Slughorn sighed. “I have never learned the spell to create one. But a good wizard is curious about such things. But only curious. What I can tell you is that making horcruxes is not an easy business, my boy. Destroying them is far, far worse. There's only a couple of things in the world that can do so and most of them will kill a wizard just as easily. Basilisk venom, for one. I don’t think I need to tell how hard that is to come by. And no, I haven’t got any. If I did, I'd give it to you. There’s also Fiendfyre. It’ll destroy the Horcrux but if you’re not careful, it’ll take you right out with it. And then there is a Potion.”

“A Potion?”

Slughorn nodded. “Horcruxes, my boy, can be anything. Including flesh and blood. Now normally, you’d just kill the living thing and the Horcrux inside it right along with it. But, if for some reason, you want to remove the Horcrux without killing the host, there is a potion for that.”

Slughorn got up from his chair and walked back to a cupboard, shuffling about for a moment before picking out a small vial with a reddish-black liquid. He brought it back to the table and handed it to Ron.

“This is Actuscaria. It's one of the rarest potions in the world. It's incredibly tricky to make and it has about a thousand different uses, one of them is destroying Horcruxes inside of living things.”

Ron looked at the potion, fascinated, more fascinated than he’d ever been by a potion before. “How does it do that, sir?”

“Actuscaria can only be made by love.”

Ron looked at the professor, blue eyes clouded with confusion.

“As in the act of love.” Ron still looked perplexed. “As in making it, Mr. Weasley.”

Understanding dawned in Ron’s eyes, he turned bright red and eyed the bottle curiously. He was so fascinated that he didn’t realize that Slughorn finally got his blasted name right.

“But not just any act of love Mr. Weasley, the first act of love. To put it into frankly, the potion is made from the blood of a virgin witch.” Ron turned even redder, but if Slughorn noticed, he didn’t let on.

“The blood that is shed during the act of deflowering.” Ron blushed again, this time the color of a ripe tomato. “Also, the blood has to be combined with the seed of the wizard who has deflowered her. Given that she has been deflowered, this combination happens rather naturally. Also, you need the entire fingernail of each of their left hands. Combine that with three drops of phoenix tears, brewed in a cauldron made from dragon’s eggs and the fire lit only with elm wood for eight days and seven nights. But the most important part of this is that the witch and wizard must be in love. Not some childish, silly infatuation, but truthfully, truly in love or it will not work. Horcruxes are formed by murder, a violation against nature. But the act of love, true love at its purest is the very affirmation of nature. It’s Old Magic, you see, nothing more powerful. Guard it, Mr. Weasley, with your life. Even if you never have cause to use it, it’s worth five times its weight in gold.”

Ron reached out a slightly trembling hand to grasp the potion. It seemed so unremarkable, so ordinary. It didn’t look revolting like Polyjuice or deadly like Night of the Living Death.

“Thank you, Professor...for everything,” Ron said, standing up. “I’ll need to finish packing.”

Professor Slughorn nodded and Ron began to walk away. Right before, he reached the door, he turned around.

“Professor, is there anything, anything else at all that you can tell me?”

The aged potions master looked up from his desk. “Yes. Godspeed, my boy. Godspeed.”

Ron nodded. That wasn’t terribly helpful but he knew he meant well. Which considering the circumstances, was probably the most anyone could do.

“Mr. Weasley,” the professor called out before Ron had reached the back of the classroom. “Before you go, if you have a moment, feel free to take whatever you’d like from the Potions Storeroom. If you’re going to try and stop...him, you never know what you may need.”

Ron nodded and with one final farewell, he left the Good Professor to ponder that one fateful conversation. Ron had learned this year how much damage one action could cause.

As he headed back to Gryffindor Tower, he thought of everything the Professor had told him. Was it possible He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had hidden a Horcrux at Hogwarts? He didn’t pretend to know how the psycho thought, he left that up to Harry.

But if you were going to hide something you never wanted anyone to find, where else would you hide it?

He arrived in the Gryffindor common room, which was all but deserted. Hermione was sitting on the couch her legs propped up on her trunk, clearly deep in thought.

He was supposed to meet his parents and Ginny in the Great Hall in a hour and a half. Hermione would be coming with them and then taking the Floo Network back to her house.

She looked sad, she looked worried. She looked beautiful. All he wanted to do was hold her.

It hadn’t been the best year for their friendship. Theirs had always been a friendship of push and pull. But the past year, there wasn’t any pushing, only pulling away.

He honestly didn’t know where it had all gone wrong. Okay, so he did.

Jealousy, immaturity, insecurity, Ginny’s goading, Lavender’s sudden attention, Quidditch fears and Quidditch glory; it had been a toxic cocktail.

They were back on good terms finally. Near death experiences tended to make people forget pettiness. It was nice to know that they could never really be angry with each other. He never doubted her being there when it counted. He hoped she thought the same.

But that was part of the problem...he didn’t know what she thought...of him. He could read her moods like the back of his hand, could tell when she was angry, moody, stressed. He knew how to piss her off like nobody else. But he hadn’t quite worked out how to make her happy.

He had just begun to realize that was what he wanted to do, possibly, probably, definitely more than he wanted anything else.

Denial had long been his picked poison when it came to his feelings for Hermione, but now, now he didn’t want to hide them anymore. But there were a million reasons he had to.

There were a lot of things unsaid. It didn’t make sense to say them now, not when the whole world was at stake. If they lived, there would be time to say it all. But of course, that was a very big if.

“Hey,” she said with the smallest of smiles. He returned her smile and came to sit beside her.

“Where’s Ginny?” he asked. “Mum and Dad are going to be in Hogsmeade in an hour.”

“She’s down at Hagrid’s...with Harry. I think she wants to spend as much time with as she can.”

Ron nodded and then shook his, not needing that particular image in his head. Harry had been his best friend for the better part of six years, but still there were just some things one didn’t want to imagine about their little sister.

“How are you?” he asked. “I mean, really?”

Hermione shrugged. “Fair,” she responded. “It’s a lot to do. A lot to plan. I’ll be coming to the Burrow next week.”

“So soon?” he asked. Not that he minded. But Hermione usually didn’t come to the Burrow until the last week of summer.

“Yes,” she said rather quickly and he got the distinct feeling that there was something she wasn’t saying. “Is that all right?” she asked, brown eyes searching his.

He turned red. “Of course. Of course, it’s all right. I just thought that maybe with everything that’s going on, you’d want to spend more time at home...with your folks.”

Hermione shrugged. “With everything that’s going on, I'd love to never leave home. But that’s not really an option, is it? No use in prolonging the inevitable.”

“Have you thought of what you’re going to tell them?”

Hermione didn’t answer for a long moment and then just shook her head. “I don’t know how to have that conversation. But in any event, have you thought of what you’re going to tell Mrs. Weasley? That's the real dangerous one, isn’t it?”

Ron, despite his worry and trepidation, laughed. “You’re right about that one,” he said with a grin. She grinned back and for a moment, everything was okay.

“We’ll be okay, Hermione,” he told her with confidence he couldn’t quite justify.

She scoffed slightly. “You sound certain.”

“Well, you’re coming, aren’t you?”

She smiled, the first one he could remember seeing that reached her eyes in a long while. Then he remembered his conversation with Slughorn.

“I went to speak to Slughorn,” he said. “To see if he knew anything that could help us.”

Hermione frowned at that. “Ron, we’re not supposed to tell anyone! You could put him in danger.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Hermione, for Merlin’s sake, Harry already told him something. And in case you didn’t notice, all of us are already in fucking danger.”

Hermione bit her lower lip and exhaled loudly, the way she always did when he was correct and she didn’t want to admit it. “Well, what did he say?” she asked finally a long pause.

Ron proceeded to say tell her the gist of his conversation with Slughorn. Although, he left out the part of the instructions for Actuscaria. There were some things he just didn’t feel comfortable talking about. Not with her.

Besides, Hermione being Hermione, she would, at some point, look up the recipe anyway.

“Basilisk venom,” she said once Ron had finished his story. “Where on earth are we going to find Basilisk venom?”

Ron thought for a moment. “I know where. Come on,” he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. They had no time to waste.

He dismissed the way his heart was beating as nerves and anticipation and not having anything to do with the way her hand felt in his. No, that had nothing to do with it at all.

They stood there for the briefest of seconds, hand-in-hand, eyes searching into another and for a second, the never-ending fast-fowarding tape that had been their experience at Hogwarts seemed to pause.

But that moment, like all moments akin to it, ended too quickly.

“We’ve got to hurry,” Ron said blinking rapidly, breaking the intensity of their eye contact.

“You mind telling me where we’re going?” Hermione asked as they raced down the steps of Gryffindor Tower.

“Girls’ lavatory on the second floor.”

“What?” Hermione asked as she ran beside him, their hands still tightly clasped.

“Chamber of Secrets,” he said in a hushed whisper though the halls were nearly deserted.

They got there in record time. Ron had never known it to be so easy to sneak around Hogwarts. Without Dumbledore’s presence, nothing felt safe.

He didn’t like that feeling. Hogwarts’ had been his family’s home from home for centuries. Despite everything he had been through in his six years there, he had never felt truly, truly at risk.

Of course, the Ministry would do everything they could to keep everyone safe. But if he was going to judge by the stories Bill had told him about the early days of the First War, he wasn’t exactly filled with confidence.

But now wasn’t the time for his fears to get the better of him.

He gripped her hand tighter as they entered into the bathroom and found themselves facing the row of sinks.

He felt for the Snake-shaped clasp hidden since Tom Riddle had walked these halls. It felt weird doing this without Harry, he had to admit. But he had a feeling had things were going to get dicey, Harry would need all the help he could get.

“How do we get in?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Parseltongue,” Ron said as he thought back to the last time he’d been there. Parseltongue always sounded creepy and disturbing to him, but Harry mumbled it a lot in his sleep. Ron had only picked up on it subconsciously, but he hoped he had enough not to botch it.

The whispery, slithery words felt unnatural and harsh on his tongue, but it worked. The tap began to move and Hermione gasped in awe.

“Oh, my god,” she whispered as the tunnel to the Chamber of Secrets opened.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to jump,” Ron told her. “You may want to hold on.”

Hermione peered down the tunnel, eyes wide. “Hold on to what?” her voice was highly confused.

“To me,” he said motioning to his shoulders.

“Oh,” a blush crept across her face and Ron pretended he didn’t notice as he fought his own burning cheeks. Her arms wrapped around the top of his chest and he prayed that she couldn’t feel his heart beating, though he knew it was pounding.

Her little hands clasped around him, delicate and dainty but he knew what damage those hands could do. The contrast simultaneously amused and aroused him. But he shook himself of those thoughts. Focus, focus, she’s only a girl.

But of course, even as they jumped down the tunnel, he knew he was kidding himself. She was The Girl. The Girl He Wanted, The Girl He Needed, The Girl He Loved. Love?

It seemed so foreign, yet as they whooshed down the tunnel, he could think of no reason to dispel it. He loved her. When the fuck had that happened?

It was unsettling to be with the notion of love as they were sliding down a dark, creepy dangerous tunnel in preparation of an even more dangerous mission where the best-case scenario was if they won, they most likely be dead as a result.

They slid down the tunnel and Hermione rapped his shoulders tighter as their speed increased.

Ron cast a silent Cushioning Charm because the memory of barreling into hundred thousand mouse skeletons was far from his favorite thing.

They landed with a thud and Hermione’s hands instantly left Ron’s shoulders. He was surprised by how instantly he felt the loss of her touch and how much he longed for it again.

“Oh, my God,” Hermione said as she looked around. There was rubble, dust and ash everywhere.

“We’ll have to bombard our way through,” Ron told her pulling out his wand. “Three tons of rock dropped last time, so let’s be careful.”

Hermione nodded and pulled out her own wand. “I’m right behind you,” agreed with a grin.

He took her hand in his. “If we need to make a quick exit, Side-Long Apparation?”

She nodded and they pressed forward until they reached the Chamber Door.

Another round of Parseltongue from Ron later, the door opened and they found themselves in a room which they had only heard about secondhand from Harry and Ginny.

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” Hermione asked as they entered the Chamber.

Ron pulled a look. “Are you serious?” he asked. “Yes, I've spent my free learning the secret language of psychos.”

“Not all Slytherins are evil, Ronald.”

“Name one you like.”

He had her there. She gave no answer and merely shrugged.

They both paused when their eyes fell upon the basilisk skeleton.

“Bloody hell,” whistled Hermione as she took the whole thing in.

“Hey don’t sweat it. It's dead. We’ve got living monsters to worry about. What's that Shakespeare quote you always say, ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here’?”

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. “I said that once three years ago. You remember that?”

Ron colored slightly and shrugged in reply. “I guess. Let’s get the fangs.”

He started to kneel down, reaching to grab a fang.

“Ron, wait! We should remove those with magic. What if you accidentally scratched yourself?”

Ron had jumped back at her words. “Oh, right. Brilliant, you are.”

She smiled at that and pulled out her wand. They carefully magically removed twelve basilisk fangs from the remains of the vicious snake. Hermione conjured up a backpack for them to place them in.

“You know, Ron,” Hermione said as she zipped up the backpack. “This is going to be really dangerous what we’re doing.”

He nodded, as she rose to stand right in front of him. “Have you thought about it, if we don’t make it?”

She nodded and then shrugged, though he thought he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “I have. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? What matter is—,”

“Harry,” he finished for her. “Harry has to make it through. That's what the prophecy said.”

Hermione sniffled. “Harry,” she agreed. “God, if I had known that we may not be coming back next here, that we may not be coming back at all, I would’ve done so much so differently.”

He looked at her for a long moment, wondering if she was talking about what he thought.

He looked down at his shoes. “Me too,” he began rather meekly. He lifted his face to meet hers again and smiled. “I think about all that time I spent worrying about Quidditch. Like that matters now.”

“Ron, I’m sorry about the birds, if I never apologized for that before.”

He grinned. He hadn’t been expecting her to say that. “Thanks,” he said honestly. “I’m sorry about...everything.” Although, he couldn’t remember what he apologizing for. But he figured it was best to cover the bases.

She chuckled lightly. “You don’t know what you’re apologizing for, do you?”

He shook his head, amused by her ability to see right through him. “Not really, no. But I figured it couldn’t hurt. I'm sorry about Lavender.”

She shook her head. “Don’t apologize,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault she fancied you. I just overreacted...a bit.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A bit?”

“All right, a lot. I just I can’t believe you fancied her.”

“Well, I didn’t...I mean not really.”

“Ronald, that’s horrible.”

“I know,” he said somewhat guiltily. “It’s just she fancied me, and I guess I fancied that and before I knew it, it had gotten out of hand. Then you weren’t speaking to me—,”

Hermione scoffed. “Oh, so you were trying to stick it to me by snogging her? Real mature, that is.”

Ron found his ire rising. “Oh, and just what the fucking hell were you doing with McClaggen, then? Research into the mind of right arrogant pricks?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t!”

“Well, I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t....” he trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.

But Hermione was having none of that. “If I hadn’t what, Ronald?” she folded her arms and waited and he knew she would wait. Because the only person more stubborn that him was her.

He knew he wasn’t about to admit to rational behavior, which is why he did not want to admit it.

“Ginnyutoldmeukissedkrum,” he said quickly and primarily to the floor.

“What?”

He sighed. He didn’t want to have this conversation. But maybe, just maybe, now wasn’t the time to leave things unsaid.

“Ginny told me you kissed Krum.”

Hermione blinked very fast for a few moments, the way she always did when she was thinking. She looked confused, then she looked agitated, then she looked annoyed. Very annoyed. At him.

“You mean two years ago?” she asked her voice dripping with derision.

His eyes looked at the floor again. “Well...yeah.”

“Let me get this straight: you started snogging Lavender because Ginny told you about me and Viktor?”

“Well, I started snogging Lavender because she started snogging me, but I can’t say that didn’t have something to do with it.”

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. She raked a hand through her hair. “This is all so silly. You could’ve talked to me about that, you know?”

“I can’t talk to you about him,” he said honestly. “It makes me crazy.”

“Why?!” she exploded. “Why does it drive you so mad?”

“Because,” he snapped, just as heated. “Because,” he said somewhat more calmly once he saw the look in her eyes. “I just...it’s the thought of him with you...instead...instead of me.”

He hoped he didn’t look as crestfallen or as foolish as he thought he sounded. But he was sure he saw pity in her expression.

“Oh, Ron,” she said softly. She shook her head again and he knew she was thinking that he was an idiot. “You didn’t even know I was a girl back then.”

He colored. “I did. I knew you were a girl. I just didn’t know back then that you meant something to me...as a girl, you know, not just a friend.”

She blinked and her face lifted in kind of a smile. “It’s all right,” she said. “I understand.”

“You do?” he said, surprised.

She nodded. “I go red with rage when I think about you and Lav-Lav.”

“I noticed,” he said wryly thinking of birds pecking his flesh.

“You know, all this could’ve been avoided if we had only spoken to one another,” she said with a resigned sigh.

He nodded. “You’re right. You're always right.”

“Not always.” She looked

“You know if I had known if we weren’t coming back here next year, if we might not be coming back at all...I would’ve asked you to the Yule Ball. I would've gone to Slughorn’s Christmas Do. But in my defense, I didn’t know you were asking me out.”

She raised her eyebrows, but he didn’t give her a chance to respond.

“I mean maybe I thought or maybe I hoped but it doesn’t matter. The point is if I had known how high the stakes were going to get, I would’ve done a lot of things.” He took a breath, not wanting the moment to pass. “Most of all, I would’ve done this.”

He leaned forward, way, way, way forward, since compared to him, she was practically house-elf sized. He waited for her to stop him, waited for her to push him away or flee from the expanding closeness between them.

In the back of his mind, he didn’t know if he had the right to do this, after all, no admissions of feelings had passed between them. Then again, maybe when you knew each other as well as they did, words were a little less necessary.

He kept leaning until their faces were inches apart. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, his heart pounding dramatically.

His lips brushed against hers, softly, slowly asking a question. He thought he felt her gasp or shiver or something he couldn’t quite name. Her lips were soft and they tasted like honey. He pressed his against her lips harder, asking the question again.

She answered, her lips playing over his in return. God, he was kissing Hermione. And she was kissing him back. It was nothing like those lung-collapsing snog marathons with Lavender. It was soft and sweet and...intimate.

He dared himself to be bold, there was no point in turning back now. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She felt small and frail against him and a wave of protectiveness ran through his veins, barely reined in by his desire to keep kissing her.

Her mouth opened and suddenly her taste was everywhere, on his tongue, in his mind, in his heart. Her hands clasped around his shoulders, bringing him deeper and he heard her moan slightly.

That one, little breathy exhalation went straight to his cock. All the things he wanted to do to her rushed through his brain in a series of flashes. Suddenly his lips were on her neck, chasing the sound that fell from her lips. Her skin was feather-soft against his lips and all he wanted to do was mark it, claim it as his own.

His lips lingered on a spot underneath her chin which caused another raspy moan, louder than the one before to fall from her lips.

Ron felt himself harden, and they were close enough where he knew she could feel it. Something in the back of his mind told him to stop, but he couldn’t. He was addicted to having her in his arms, on his skin, and the sounds and shudders she made as he touched her. His lips sought hers again for another deep, nearly bruising kiss.

His hands began to roam up her waist, she shifted closer to him, her foot kicking the backpack. One of the basilisk fangs fell out and clattered to the ground.

That one sound snapped Hermione back into reality. She pulled her lips away abruptly. Her hands left his shoulders and she moved an inch away.

Ron’s eyes shut open, afraid that he had gone too far, pushed past the limit. He waited for to say something. Waited for the inevitable heartbreak he knew was coming.

“We can’t do this,” she said softly.

He instantly deflated but tried to hide it. “You’re right,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound shaky. “I’m sorry, I should have never. I didn’t mean to...take advantage of you and I can’t blame you if you want to slap me or hex me or send more birds but I've still got scabs from that so if you could lay off—,”

“Ron, what are you talking about?” She looked up at him, confused. “You didn’t take advantage of me.”

They both blushed as the weight of their action sunk in.

“Soooo,” Ron tested the waters. “You don’t want to hex me?”

She laughed softly. “No, no, quite the opposite actually.”

He couldn’t help but beam at that. She placed a hand on his face, cupping his cheek. “We can’t do this...not now,” she quickly amended. “Right now, we don’t matter. The only thing that matters is—,”

“Harry,” interjected Ron. “The only thing that matters right now is Harry. Harry has to make it through.”

She dropped her hand from his face and matching sad, resigned smiles crossed their faces.

“We could die,” Ron said briefly. He wasn’t sad, or even upset about it. He knew it was a fact.

Hermione nodded. “We could. But that really doesn’t matter either, does it?” She shook her, frustration clouding her features. “You know, this year was a waste. When I think that we could’ve just...”

“Spent all year snogging,” Ron suggested for her. No use in beating around the bush anymore

She rolled her eyes. “You did spend half the year snogging.”

Ron shrugged sheepishly. “Well, yeah, but she wasn’t you.” He enjoyed the smile on her face at his words.

“Are you scared?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not of dying. I’m more scared of what’ll happen if we don’t win. But I was scared of dying before I lived.”

“You’re not anymore?” she seemed surprised.

“Nope,” he said with a rakish grin. “I’ll get to remember the last five minutes for as long as I live. So, if You-Know-Who pops my clogs tomorrow, that’d be all right.”

She laughed. “You’re impossible.”

Ron grinned. “Yes, and you love me.” He had meant it as a joke, it was supposed to be a joke. But she didn’t laugh. She just stared into his eyes for a long pause.

When she did speak, her was clear and earnest. “I do.”

He felt like he’d gotten hit with a Stunning jinx. But then she was staring up at him with her huge brown eyes, a hint of fear at the edges and he realized she was waiting for him to say something.

“I do too,” he said quickly. She smiled and reached for his hand again, their fingers intertwined.

A long, sincere beat passed between the two of them. But it ended all too soon. “So, if we win and we don’t die,” she said an edge of humor. “Can I get one of your Weasley sweaters?”

He laughed. “You can have them all.”

“And your Quidditch jersey?”

“Let’s not get carried away,” he said, mockingly scandalized.

They stared at each other again and All Ron wanted to do was kiss her again. He thought she was thinking the same thing too, but she looked away.

“We’ve got to go. Your parents will be ready to leave soon.”

He nodded. She was right. “Yeah, yeah, we should. Oh, I totally forgot. Slughorn said we should go to the Storeroom, pick out whatever we think we may need.”

Hermione went straight into Hermione mode. “Ronald, why didn’t you say so? We haven’t got all day, have we? Let's go!”

She picked up the backpack, shrunk it down and stuck it in her pocket.

“Ronald, come on!” she beckoned him forward and out of the Chamber.

Despite everything, the danger they were in, the uncertainty of the future, and the deranged, powerful psychopath who wanted to destroy everything he held dear, all he could think of was if and when he’d ever kiss her again.

#fanfction #hp #hermione granger #ron weasley #romione #post-hpb #teaser

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ssvgawara · 4 years

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Haikyuu characters as things said in the hhcu

a/n: this is pure humor and just something fun, the hhcu is wild and says stupid shit more than once a day so i complied a ridiculously long list of quotes and put them together in this list to share with yall so please enjoy, read more because again this is so long also pt 2. some of these r pretty nsfw so uh yeah <3

Oikawa: When he gives up his torso 😍

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Nishinoya: Fisherman daddy

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Bokuto: I trust no condiments

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Osamu: YELLOW BAD OIKAWA IS NOT ALLOWED IN MY KITCHEN

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Tendou: Give ass in shiratorizawa?

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Atsumu: Garlic air freshener

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Nishinoya talking about his sex life: ITS THE GOOD OL FASHIONED POW POW GRUNT GRUNT WINDOW WASHER ULTIMATE FRISBEE DICK CONNECTOR

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Hinata: thank you!! also my oven melted??? and caught on fire 😰

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Yaku probably thinking abt kuroo while saying this: not gonna front im terrified of the live action grinch and if i ever see him its on sight

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Kageyama: Except that one mustard faze I had

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Lev after yaku kicks him yet again: NO INCH ACTIVE INCH VERY ACTIVE

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Suga after Kiyoko holds his hands: premarital eye contact is already a sin

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Iwaizumi realizing Oikawa probably wouldn’t know the difference between hawaiian rolls and milk bread: when he says hit it till it breaks, he means the packaging of hawaiin rolls

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All of Seijoh to Oikawa: You know whats really sexy? Self care.

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Hoshihumi: like a three year old. still baby but also evil at times🤡

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Oikawa right before his death: "MORNING HAJI!~" slaps tiddie

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Anyone falling on love with haikyuu boys: hey a good reverse harem never hurt anyone

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Idk who says it but terushima would do this: places his hand to my heart but then hes like heh heh boob squishy

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Tendou: centrepical force saved my bag of chocolate!!

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Lev thinking it was a literary masterpiece: *reads about a fourth of the bee movie*

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Hinata making fun of Kageyama: milk is better than the feeling of the ball touching your fingertips during a perfect set

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Hinata and Kageyama failing tests: thats just the dumbass in me babey!!!

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Atsumu simply trying to annoy Osamu: Are y’all meaning to tell me you DON’T take your raw chicken on walks through the city?

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Yahaba: PUSSY ALWAYS LEAVES

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Mattsun just to annoy everyone: yall ever think about how in the 50s and 60s they just put raw hotdogs or shrimp into jello and ate that shit and enjoyed it???

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Suga: i am now crying and my boyfriend is concerned and i can’t tell him that I’ve lost my husband and children

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Kenma; Smh my head

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Bokuto: Sorry not all of us can have double decker extra stuffed bottoms up extra large super sized t n a like me🥰🥰💅💅

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Everyone to bokuto: titty enthusiast ✨✨

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Me to kuroo: sorry babe youre a scorpio you dont have any rights anymore

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Tendou: i accidentally lit a baby on fire

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Atsumu: This feels real human centipede

Bokuto: theyre not ass to mouth

Atsumu: Close enough

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Bokuto when a minor inconvience happens: Why are we still here? Just to suffer? Every day, I wake up....

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Sakusa: Remove your lips from my penis

Atsumu: I use a gluestick as chapstick i cant

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Goshiki: Arson or boot in my book, set fire to something live a little

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Tsukishima: I don’t like recieving pain. It hurts

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Kenma annoyed w kuroo: Put your dick in the fucking catfish’s pussy then

Kuroo being annoying: How deep is catfish pussy

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Makki to Mattsun: Ayo babe what if we fucked on the catfish tank

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Kiyoko tiredly, to Tanaka: I’m not putting salt and pepper on my pussy lips

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Saeko: I’ve got that Deep dish, super soaker, wet, succulent dripping honey suckle like sweet marinated mooseknuckle, extra thick, slip n slide, water park, waterbender, extra ribbed, the seven seas, gorilla grip, flex tape, primordial soup Dwayne the Rock Johnson, Cardi B, Megan Thee Stallion pussy

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Atsumu not really knowing what cooch means: I got the body builder cooch

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Oikawa after not sleeping to train, extremely sleep deprived: youre got unending

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Goshiki; Commit arson

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Akaashi: I leave for 10 minutes and Bokuto is 240v (mouth edition) fuckmaster pro 4000 with semen drip collection tray, automated self-lubricating 6 speed pulsating pussy and built in Polycrystalline floatable silicon

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Oikawa; I’m coming to murk your ass xoxo

Iwa: I will literally shiv you bitch

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Kindaichi: ✨ bob duncan exterminates you asmr✨

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Makki: I’ll try to find my favorite about Jacob sartorius vampire babies with Hillary Clinton

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Kenma after playing some obscure video game: also i can’t sleep😔 too busy thinking about human sized bats

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ME fuck yall im carpetting my bathroom: you already put rugs in the bathroom might as well carpet that bitch

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Kuroo talking abt something sciency idk: LIKE A BODY WIG

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Seijoh when iwa throws balls at oikawa: spousal abuse right in front of my salad

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Hinata making up some new stupid song: Ants on a log ants on a log

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Atsumu to piss off Osamu once more: world f amous allegra chicken

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Semi: Gay little Ushijima’s left hand

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Bokuto: Are you disagreeing with the fact that I am thicc as phuck

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Kiyoko: Guys is it uh... is it possible to sprain a titty cause.... Uh....

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Terushima: He laughed at the end of his own joke what a fuckin chad

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Bokuto: IS THAT THE DOG FROM ZOOTOOIA

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Kageyama: milk is kinda like organ paint huh

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Nishinoya: i don’t think socks taste good

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Tendou: out of your mummy, into my tummy

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Hinata; shout out to me who thought chickens had four legs until last summer

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Oikawa Hanger: I WANNA HANG MY CLOTHES ON HIM

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Kenma: What a little pissbaby

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Yamaguchi: i am literally so curious about what it's like to kiss a boy that it's almost killing me

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Daichi about Suga: he may be cute, but istg there’s some kind of raging devil trapped in him

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Saeko: fuck society my titties are out

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Hinata after getting lecture by everyone for sneaking into the training camp: GOOD NEWS MY DAD IS NOT GOING TO PUT ME IN THE OVEN

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Just me thinking abt any first years: children. toddlers. Tikes.

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Me waiting for the fever: When is malaria?

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Uhhhhh probably tendou his vibes: Ill electrocute his cock

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Akaashi just go w it probably about bokuto: Why is he shoving cheese up the pussy

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Osamu tiredly: Ooey gooey cheesy chicken vagaina

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Nishinoya trying to catch a very large fish: Dom the Crab

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Bonus crabagraph: The crabs death reverberated and struck fear into the hearts of all crabs in existence because of this one 60+ year old mans volatile universe-crunching swing. Dude defied the laws of gravity by simply getting pinched by the crab. Man just reinvented the laws of physics and all of science due to the sheer force of will and untapped wellsprings if potential unleashed by the crab. If aliens show up it’s because the supersonic radio waves released by the banging of the crab against the cabinet are the first ever created in the universe. Man could cause a ripple in space-time with his crab launching abilities. Guy probably opened a gateway into another universe when he launched the crab. You see how the cabinet door opened and stayed open? It’s because this elder tore a hole through the fabric of reality to the Other Side simply because he experienced a minor bit of pain. The way he released a defeated roar of agony. The ancient gods awoke from their deep slumber and this old man single-handedly revived all his ancestors. New wars are about to start because of the way this man broke the barriers containing this reality into one fixed area. This universe is now expanding at such a rapid rate the the geosphere will now be reshaped. This man probably unknowingly blasted a hole in the other side of the planet because the shockwaves of the aggressive rippling effect of this poor crustacean slamming at lightning speed into a small wooden frame. The crabs insides were probably fused into the shell because this man’s angry, rage filled, pain filled battering ram of an arm throwing him through every known dimension and re-arriving in this one at the mere moment to experience the most pain a crab ever has or will in the rest of the existence of crabs. This elderly man probably has phased through and broken every human limiter known to man just because he got a minor pinch by a crab. He probably is bio-medically fused with crab DNA at this point. A legend.

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theratopia · 3 years

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No time to cry

Dear Therapals,

The problem with passion projects is that sometimes they are forced into a hiatus while I take care of… other passion projects.

There is a bit of time travel involved in this one considering my first draft is many weeks old. For the sake of story-telling and good personal anecdotes, I will ignore date accuracy. In fairness, I reckon none of you cares about this.

Episode 187 reminded me of the ambivalence of our resilience. We are strong because surrender is never an option for those who count themselves lucky to get this far.

“I would think about how I would kill myself if I could…”

I cried ugly with this episode twice now. When our friend from Zimbabwe talked about having a better life than most people from their country just because they have food, shelter, enough money, and access to higher education I broke down hard. They look around themselves and see other people in dire situations and they feel like they should be more grateful, they feel like those few “luxuries” suffice to a happy life.

When we consider the vast majority of PodTherapy’s listeners, I’m confident to say that I am a type of diversity just from being not American. Yet, I am completely aware that I’m still a white, middle-class person. Behind my many complaints about the country I live in, there is a very conscious appreciation for the level of privilege I have within this particular reality. So, hearing from someone who I would consider less privileged than me that they sometimes think they should just be grateful because other people around them have even less was heartbreaking. I can relate, and I know how much it hurts.

The idea that you are ungrateful for wanting more than the bare minimum is something that I battle with sometimes too. We have these voices in our minds judging us at every display of dissatisfaction, badgering us for daring to be so spoiled as to want more. We tell ourselves that we could be in a worse situation and we think about that all the time because the worse situation is not far away in another “third world country”, it’s right there outside the window. For people who care about others, there’s almost shame of being ambitious. Or being different. Or wanting something else. It’s survivor’s guilt, but an entire lifetime of it.

One of my usual criticisms about the show is the general American-centrist approach, but I don’t exactly expect this to change because it would be silly of me to do so. Not that I don’t believe people can change their perspective, I just can’t expect this from three American guys who never had to deal with anything other than average white America. Their entire reality is fundamentally different from mine and will probably always be since we grew up in vastly different situations. It’s okay, and it is why I decided to write to them and to eventually create this space where I can speak freely on how I see things. By now I have learnt to appreciate those disparities and communicate them as much as I can. The bottom line is, Americans will hardly ever really understand how we Brazilians - or you Zimbabweans - think about community and how we position ourselves as individuals. The same goes the other way around - I don’t get at all the constant need for competition. We can recognize those contrasts and share our experiences to broaden everyone’s perspectives. Seeing things from multiple angles can be a powerful tool to better solve the problems we are faced with. For the record, I am not comparing Brazil and Zimbabwe, I can perfectly recognize that Brazil has a lot of advantages in comparison, and I also know very little about Zimbabwe to make any further judgment. My point here is to clearly put these two countries in a separated group from the US.

Nick said that the listener seemed to have developed healthy coping mechanisms. Speaking from this part of the world that gets described as “third world” I feel like I need to point to the cruelty involved in that process. Living through historic events is exhausting and we have to do it with a grace that is rarely shown to us.

What our beloved American friends seem to fundamentally miss is that we just don’t have the time and the resources to even consider mental illnesses as part of the conversation.

What I mean is that we don’t recognize the impact of our mental health when we are too busy surviving. Throughout this entire pandemic, Brazil is putting its grief on an imaginary credit card that will probably never be charged, or it will snowball into a bigger catastrophe. We simply don’t have the time to cry for every single person that we lose to a preventable disease while we are already burdened with other worries about our own survival. I don’t have time to be depressed and not go to work because I have to feed my family. I don’t have time to contemplate the death of another thousand because I would just be doing that every day. Maybe as a defense mechanism, we become very numb to otherwise tragic situations. Death, loss and suffering are not an anomaly in our reality, they are somewhat the expectation. Considering this, emotional resources are rationed wisely. I cried when one of my favorite comedians died, but nothing changed for me after the passing of the neighbor who almost destroyed my family. To be honest, we will catch ourselves smiling when we hear some famous person died from old age, at least they expired at their terms.

During the days leading to my first shot of the Covid-19 vaccine, my sister and my partner warned me about the pain that would follow the desired jab. They told me to expect a lot of soreness, a sick feeling, real exhaustion. I was prepared to take the rest of the week off to enjoy the beating of immunization.

The issue is this: none of that happened. My arm was hurting for less than 24 hours. In fact, two days after the shot I gave myself two hard slaps in the arm just to show dominance. Pain is not a stranger to me, it’s a character trait. You can’t be soft in a battle.

That said, it’s not cute that we are survivors. Only a few of us are privileged enough to contemplate what it actually means to live, to have the ability to desire for more than the bare minimum. And it hurts us to know that the majority is just surviving.

Now, one thing we can always do is look for peers. The internet made it possible for people to create borderless communities, so we should take advantage of that for our benefit. (Please, Darwin, let me not go on a tangent about destructive communities that can only thrive and expand because of the internet. Thank you.) So, if you can’t find a friend in your village to talk about your struggles with mental health, reach out to a friend in Brazil. Or Poland. Or Australia. We exist, we are here. We are other real people with real problems and a lot of us are open to help those who feel lost and alone. I promise you will find someone who understands your pain, or at least is willing to try.

If you need to hide your care from your family, and can, do it. Just get treated, get help. Worry about yourself first. Nobody needs to know about your health but your doctor or health care team. We love ourselves first, then we ration our energy to help others.

We deserve what we want, friend. We deserve more, we deserve better.

As the official Mayor of Theratopia, fan number #1, and president of the Brazilian Chapter, I hereby dub thee president of the Zimbabwean Chapter. Rejoice!

Triple hug.

The Mayor

#resilience #therapy #podtherapy

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waritawrites · 3 years

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A Secret: Watch Out for the Evil Eye Symbol!

https://followerofthewayforever.wordpress.com/2021/02/22/a-secret-watch-out-for-the-evil-eye-symbol/

The Evil Eye has made a reappearance into popular culture, particularly in fashion, jewelry and accessories, and alleged "art." It is a hateful stare that is used to place curses on others. In John H. Elliot's Beware the Evil Eye: The Evil Eye in the Bible and the Ancient World: -Volume 1 Introduction, Mesopotamia, and Egypt, He tells the truth about the evil eye by sharing Jesus' sermon on the mount:

"Beware the Evil Eye: The Evil Eye in the Bible and the Ancient World: -Volume 1 Introduction, Mesopotamia, and Egypt

In his celebrated 'Sermon on the Mount,' Jesus of Nazareth makes reference to one of the oldest beliefs in the ancient world the malignity of an Evil Eye (Matt 6:22-23): 'If, however, your Eye is Evil, your entire body will be full of darkness.' Another of Jesus's references to the Evil Eye appears in his parable concerning workers in a vineyard and an eruption of Evil-Eyed envy (Matt 20:1-16). At the parable’s conclusion, a generous vineyard owner chides disgruntled workers envious of their fellow laborers: 'Is your Eye Evil because I am good?' (Matt 20:15)."

According to Britannica.com

"Evil eye, glance believed to have the ability to cause injury or death to those on whom it falls; pregnant women, children, and animals are thought to be particularly susceptible. Belief in the evil eye is ancient and ubiquitous; it occurred in ancient Greece and Rome, in Jewish, Islamic, Buddhist, and Hindu traditions, and in indigenous, peasant, and other folk societies, and it has persisted throughout the world into modern times. Those most often accused of casting the evil eye include strangers, malformed individuals, childless women, and old women."

Personally, I have noticed when certain acquaintances and relatives come around catastrophe strikes not long after, especially after they have acted condescending and hateful. Once my grandmother wanted to know why I didn't want to go the wedding of one my cousins. I told her that it was because certain of our other relatives were going to the wedding and I noticed that every time there was a new encounter that would cause more frequent contact with them, catastrophes would strike. I told her that I suspected that they were practicing witchcraft. My grandmother didn't defend them - if it weren't true she would have. My grandmother said nothing. She is a woman who went out of town to the casino with her sister when I had gotten seriously ill in high school. She picked me up from school, took me home, then she and my great aunt told me that they couldn't stay - they left town told no one that I was at home sick. I almost died.

Be careful of the company that you keep - no matter who it is. Everyone who seems to treat you nice doesn't have good intentions towards you. Witches often offer gifts and favors as a way of cursing people. Do not accepts gifts if you can avoid it. Don't keep them because those may be cursed objects - THROW THEM AWAY!

!!PAY ATTENTION!! When people who you hardly ever see come around and weird things happen, pray to GOD for help and put those people in GOD's hands.

The Evil Eye is Witchcraft

Deuteronomy 18:9 - 13

9 When thou art come into the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee, thou shalt not learn to do after the abominations of those nations.

10 There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch,

11 Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.

12 For all that do these things are an abomination unto the LORD: and because of these abominations the LORD thy God doth drive them out from before thee.

13 Thou shalt be perfect with the LORD thy God.

Rhonda Byrne's The Secret and The Law of Attraction: It is the manifestation of an evil eye

Witches often use the evil eye in various ways. They practice its use in The Law of Attraction, which is a metaphysical principle which purports that by positive thinking you can control your world and the world around you. Kerby Anderson's The False Teaching of “The Secret” – A Christian Evaluation states:

“The Law of Attraction.”{6} You can summarize the law with three words: “Thoughts become things.” In other words, if you think hard enough about something, it will take place. Think good thoughts, and you will reap good things. Think bad thoughts, and bad things will happen to you. You create your own circumstances, and you can change those circumstances with your thoughts.

A central teaching of “The Law of Attraction” is that nothing can come into your experience unless you summon it through persistent thoughts. Thus, everything that surrounds you right now (both good and bad) has been attracted to you. As you focus on what you want, you are changing the vibration of atoms of that thing so that they begin to vibrate to you.{7} Ultimately, you determine the frequency or vibration so that you can best acquire wealth, health, and fulfillment."

Vision boards are forms of evil eye law of attraction witchcraft as well. Do not use the practices of witchcraftvto manifest the things that you want. Galatians 5:16 - 26:

Galatians 5:16 - 26:

16 This I say then, Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh.

17 For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would.

18 But if ye be led of the Spirit, ye are not under the law.

19 Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these; Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness,

20 Idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies,

21 Envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like: of the which I tell you before, as I have also told you in time past, that they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God.

22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,

23 Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.

24 And they that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts.

25 If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.

26 Let us not be desirous of vain glory, provoking one another, envying one another.

Pray and Trust in GOD for what you want according to HIS Will. James 4:2 - 17 states:

James 4:2 - 17

2 Ye lust, and have not: ye kill, and desire to have, and cannot obtain: ye fight and war, yet ye have not, because ye ask not.

3 Ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts.

4 Ye adulterers and adulteresses, know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God? whosoever therefore will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God.

5 Do ye think that the scripture saith in vain, The spirit that dwelleth in us lusteth to envy?

6 But he giveth more grace. Wherefore he saith, God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble.

7 Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.

8 Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded.

9 Be afflicted, and mourn, and weep: let your laughter be turned to mourning, and your joy to heaviness.

10 Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up.

11 Speak not evil one of another, brethren. He that speaketh evil of his brother, and judgeth his brother, speaketh evil of the law, and judgeth the law: but if thou judge the law, thou art not a doer of the law, but a judge.

12 There is one lawgiver, who is able to save and to destroy: who art thou that judgest another?

13 Go to now, ye that say, To day or to morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain:

14 Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.

15 For that ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that.

16 But now ye rejoice in your boastings: all such rejoicing is evil.

17 Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.

In pure Christianity, we recognize that witchcraft is an attempt at usurping GOD's Authority by trying to become your own god. GOD's understanding is infinite. Man's understanding is limited and finite - we don't see the whole picture - we don't know the whole situation. 1 Corinthians 13:12 says:

1 Corinthians 13:12

12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

GOD sees clearly therefore leaning unto our understanding via witchcraft will bring about unholy, selfish, unrighteous results. Proverbs 3:5 - 8 says:

Proverbs 3:5 - 8

5 Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.

6 In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

7 Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the LORD, and depart from evil.

8 It shall be health to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones.

#GOD #Jesus #HolySpirit #TheBible

#TheSecret #TheLawOfAttraction #RhondaByrne #Oprah #NewAge #Witches #Witchcraft #EvilEye

#GOD #Jesus #Holy Spirit #evil eye #witchcraft #wicca #christian wicca #curse #hex #spell #witch #The Secret #Rhonda Byrne #law of attraction

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fuckthe10essays · 3 years

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Othello is not a tragic hero – he is really only a victim of circumstances and Iago’s cunning.

The list of classic tragic heroes is populated by the likes of Macbeth, Hamlet and Brutus if one were to look one of these lists up an Othello sized hole would often be found. While he certainly fulfills the criteria to be considered tragic, hero is not a word often associated with the namesake of this play. On the question of ‘Is he a victim’ the answer is a sure yes, but the real question is ‘Of what’. Throughout this essay I will delve into the answers to this question and give a resounding answer on why Othello is not tragic hero.

To address the first point of this topic I agree, Othello is not a tragic hero, simply because he is devoid of any heroic deeds. For arguments sake the most heroic thing he did was calming down the senate chambers after his secret marriage to Desdemona was outed, but this is hardly enough to prove him a hero of any sort. He was sent to Cyprus to fight the Turks. ‘Valiant Othello we must straight employ you against the general enemy Ottoman.’ The Turks ended up dying in a sea storm, so no fighting was needed on his part. He’s a big shot war general but never see him in action. The majority of the play he is under some kind of trance by Iago and never once do we see him display any sort of heroic behaviour capable of warranting him a Tragic hero characterization. He is undoubtedly tragic but most certainly not a hero. He is at heart a romantic with so much love for Desdemona that he would kill for it. He meets a tragic end of course but he doesn’t die for just cause. He doesn’t die in opposition to something, he doesn’t die for a reason that is in any way ‘heroic’. Othello met his end through a combination of his own inability to communicate and Iago’s manipulation. This is no hero’s death, it’s the death of an extremely insecure man with trust issues, not that of a hero.

A tragic hero by definition is someone who is great or virtuous and who is destined for downfall, Othello does not live up to this definition, but he does his hardest to try. This is seen most clearly in the last scene after Desdemona and Emilia have died and Othello is making his speech to Ludovico and Gratiano. ‘I have done the state some service, and they know it’ These are the words he uses to try and paint himself in a hero’s light. Someone who has done something useful, fought for something worthwhile but all throughout the play we see an Othello devoid of these traits. He uses his finals moments, after just wrongfully murdering his wife, to attempt to write a narrative where he is a ‘good guy’. It is Othello’s fault that Desdemona is lying on the bed, strangled, and to an extent he is at fault for Emilia’s death as well. But he brushes this off and instead pivots the attention to his stately service. It is a despicable move, an attempt at posturing, before he commits suicide because he just can’t bear the guilt of murdering his wife. Othello is no tragic hero, he is a man with his own twisted morals and agenda, none of which befit the title ‘hero’

Othello is not a victim of circumstances, but rather a victim of his own stupidity. From the outset of the play, we know that he has already made problems for himself by how he managed his marriage to Desdemona. Othello decided to take the route of elopement, a secret marriage, but word got out anyways and in the worst way possible. By Iago and Rodrigo screaming to Brabantio that ‘An old black ram is tupping your white ewe.’ Othello could have easily avoided Brabantio’s anger and scorn had he just asked permission to marry his daughter. Brabantio respected Othello for his military service and regularly had him over to his home, this is how he and Desdemona met. Had Othello just asked, if he had gotten Brabantio on his side so much pain and tragedy could have been averted. But alas he went behind his back and the result was Brabantio disowning Desdemona ‘I had rather adopt a child then get it.’ and him planting the initial seed of doubt of Desdemona’s fidelity in Othello’s mind ‘She hath deceived her father and may thee.’ This would set in motion Othello’s easily influenced mind when it came to the nonexistent affair. Had Othello just asked Brabantio’s permission and made life just a little bit easier for himself these problems would not exist.

Once again Othello’s lack of ability to ask things comes around and stabs him in the back. They say the key to a happy marriage is communication, but I wouldn’t chalk up Othello and Desdemona’s relationship problems to only a lack of it, however it did play a part. Othello had many chances throughout the play to ask his wife was she unfaithful, but he did not take any of these chances. Instead, he allowed Iago’s suggestions to seep into his head and cloud any rational thought that would steer him towards common sense and straight-out asking Desdemona was she cheating on him with Cassio? This lack of communication paired with Iago constantly reinforcing the idea of Desdemona’s infidelity makes it so that when Othello does ask Desdemona ‘Swear thou art honest’ he doesn’t believe her when she denies it. He is already convinced and nothing she can say will change that. Othello signed Desdemona’s death warrant the moment he chose Iago’s whisperings over his wife. This lack of communication on Othello’s part ends in the deaths of four people, himself included. Othello easily creates his own problems without needing any help from circumstances, he is not a victim of them, he’s a victim of his inability to communicate and make use of rational thought.

To leave Iago out of an essay to do with what Othello is a victim of would be a crime to say the least. Iago is the driving force behind Othello and his downfall. By cunning use of suggestion and insinuation Iago manages to create a fantasy where Cassio and Desdemona are having an affair and Othello must kill them in order to seek revenge. It is not Othello’s fault that Iago is jealous of Cassio and his promotion and it is not Othello’s fault that Iago believes in the rumour that he slept with his wife. Othello is a victim of Iago’s revenge plot and petty jealousies. Othello is a victim of Iago’s quick thinking and his manipulation of Cassio and the handkerchief after Bianca angrily confronted him. ‘This is some minx’s token.’ Iago is a scheming exploiter who sees a chance for revenge and takes it. Othello chose to believe him and not question him or his motives, but Iago knew just what buttons to press and Othello was his. Othello cannot be blamed for Iago’s using of him. He may not be a tragic hero or a victim of circumstance, but he most definitely falls under the expansive category of ‘victims of Iago’.

There is no question that Othello is a victim of Iago and his cunning wiles. A very prominent example of this is when Othello succumbs to an epileptic like fit by the hands of Iago. ‘Work on my medicine, work! Thus, credulous fools are caught; and many worthy and chaste dames even thus.’ Iago has wormed his way into Othello’s mind so severely that it has brought about some form of psychological breakdown. This is a direct result of Iago’s meddling and insinuating. Iago knows what he is doing, how much pain he is causing Othello and takes credit for it. He even lies to Cassio that this is Othello’s second fit in two days to make him appear weak. This all results in the tragic end of play and Iago does this knowingly, encouraging Othello to strangle Desdemona instead of poisoning her and offering to kill Cassio for him. Othello stood no chance against Iago and the lengths he was willing to go to in aid of his bid for revenge.

In conclusion Othello is as far from a tragic hero as Iago is from winning a noble peace prize. As tragic as his story is one only gets so many concessions and he used all of his up when he decided that Iago was a worthier source of information that his wife. For all these reasons I have compiled Othello is most definitely a victim of Iago but suffers as well from his penchant for creating his own problems, but he is not, under any circumstances, a tragic hero.

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arkus-rhapsode · 5 years

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My Hero Academia Chapter 226 Review

Oh lord this chapter. Wow.

So we open on a flashback, or potentially a broadcast of young Toga’s first murder. Someone who witnessed it actually got a good look at Toga’s face.

Okay, so setting the tone for this chapter. We also get more from Toga’s flashback showing that she was obsessed with blood before her first murder.

I’ll talk about this more when we get back to it as we cut forward to the present.

Kizuki is still interviewing Toga, and I swear to god you could show me some of the faces in this chapter out of context and I’d think they’d be moved to orgasm.

Toga’s not able to really stand. Getting blown up will do that to you. And Kizuki begins to monologue again. Though to be fair, unlike last week, it balanced much better with more potent dialogue and Toga’s own introspection. o its not like dominated by one person.

So we get introduced to a new concept for this world, quirk consoling. It’s not a surprise, that powers you are born with affect your personality, simulations, and interests. Toga can transform from drinking blood, so naturally she’s interested in blood. Bakugou’s got an explosive temper, could be partially detritive from his quirk. Same with Aoyama and his sparkling motif. People’s quirks reflect their quirks.

Quirk consoling is for those who’s personalities effected by their odd quirks are made to psychologically integrate them. Essentially press down their psychosis and make them normal. But a quirk is a part of you. It doesn’t just go away. Focusing on suppressing your oddity just makes you think about it more. And the more you think about the thing you’re told not to embrace in an effort to not do it, its no surprise Toga snapped.

Now to be fair. This is just Toga. We have seen people with blood based quirks like Vlad King, actually manage to live a normal life. It’s likely because his stimulation with blood manifested more acceptably. Showing that Toga’s interest could’ve been met, but rather than being forced down, she could’ve been shown to put her interests in another form.

Toga snaps at Kizuki again, and she reveals a support tool to blow her back. I’m guessing all the Liberation Army executives have a special support tool.

Kizuki brings up something I’ve been saying for awhile, that the LoV and the Liberation Army have the same objective. Thy both wanna change society for reasons that create outcasts. But again, something that makes them different it their closeness. Kizuki, doesn’t care about Toga’s suffering so she can help her, she cares so she can furthur her own agenda.

But the League cared. Gave Toga a place to go. But these guys, she’s just another drop in the bucket for their ends. If they really cared, Kizuki would’ve offered Toga a chance to join them. But no, she’s just another pawn.

Toga dashes off, and I again have to props to Horikoshi as an artist. I tend to hear Horikoshi get shit for ways he draws women at times (personally, I don’t agree with that assessment, but that’s not what this is about right now). But Hori is one of the few shounen artists willing to take this female character who many do consider cute and adorable, regardless of being a serial killer, and burn her. Burn and blood that cute face, because it horrifying, it gets the message across.

So while I get some of the complaints about how Hori draws female characters, I feel its worth mentioning that he will treat their appearances like a male’s. Give them muscle tone and give them full facial damage. It’s something I see rarely done by mainstream shounen and I appreciate it.

Granted, she doesn’t stay like that for long. As she turns into Uraraka while fleeing.

So we get another dive into Toga’s head. This time about Izuku and Uraraka. While it is good, how Toga becomes like Uraraka because of love. She wants to be like Uraraka because Izuku loves her. I also feel this chapter hasn’t brought up the source of that love.

Because as we saw in the flashback, the boy she was watching looked like Izuku, so how much of this love is genuine and how much is superficial. Its not answered and maybe it will be alter, but seeing this scene makes m want a clear answer on if Toga is projecting onto others or is this “true love.”

And here’s where we get the most controversial thing in the chapter. Which this chapter has been great so far, but this moment...

Toga can now use the powers of the people she turns into. Something that only seems to have happened because she is at death’s door. Okay, I’m going to level with you, this is an asspull. This out of nowhere enhancement is the same thing people gave to FT and OP for how they won fights. My damn intellectual honesty does tell me this is still cheating.

BUT! Unlike, say FT, this power up is backed by the story. Sure its not “built up” but the fact this new ability was dveloped thanks to a heavy psychological reason and not say “I have friends” or some shit, that reality bends entirely to their will.

It also lines up with Toga’s powers. Its not like she gained the ability to blood bend. Her evolution came from still having to transform her body from ingesting a person’s blood. And we also she, it has limitations. Like with Monoma’s copy quirk, I can accept such a strong ability as long as it has limits. And this one does. She can’t maintain the form she’s in forever.

So is it an asspull? Yes, but it a very well done asspull that allows to look over the plot convenience.

Our chapter ends pretty gruesomely, but kinda amazingly. Also, she says she’s just like Izuku. I don’t know if that means that the LoV knows the truth about One for All or if she’s just saying that because she has Izuku’s blood.

Post Chapter follow up: This chapter is great. The best part about it is finally diving into who Toga is as a person. It’s such a trip and honestly erriely similar to real life killers.

I love the worldbuilding and commentary on society in this chapter. Horikoshi really knows how to take a modern setting for a battle shounen and give it such depth.

Kizuki is also far better in this chapter. She’s still one-note, but this time she’s not dominating thee chapter and at least gives us more insight into the Liberation army.

The only fault I can find in this chapter is the powerup. But I’ve already written why I can see a reader accepting this over some Nakama crap. And even if the change does bother you there is so much good here, it still is a good read.

Final Verdict: 9/10

Gives us a great psychological look into our villain

Character development in spades

Interesting societal commentary

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monstersdownthepath · 5 years

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Milestone Monster: Barzahk, Master of the Dead Roads

CR 28

Neutral Medium Outsider

Pathfinder Adventure Path: Tyrant’s Grasp: Born by the Sun’s Grace, pg. 90~91

The first and currently only Psychopomp Usher with stats, Barzahk the Passage sets the bar by which all future ones will be measured. It’s not too high a bar, because this big bird’s typically shirking their duties rather than actually attending to matters in the Boneyard, flitting about the planes in the hopes of finding something amusing rather than standing vigilantly at the threshold as they should be. To this end, they can use Entreating Entrance to “hire” any Fey, Humanoid, Monstrous Humanoid, or Outsider with at least one Neutral component in their alignment to guard stretches of the Dead Roads from intruders. Entreating Entrance can also create a new stretch of the Roads that connects any two points in the same plane, but anyone wishing to use this portal must gain a stamp of approval from its guardian (which I choose to believe is a literal stamp).

Anyone hired by Barzahk also gains the use of its own adorably named Toss Thee Here Ashore, an ability that allows Barzahk or their hirelings to cast Banishment at will while in the Dead Roads or the Boneyard, though the banishing can only cast the target to the Material Plane or the Boneyard. However, it treats all creatures as though they were extraplanar, so even creatures that belong in the Boneyard can be thrown back if Barzahk gets ahold of them. Barzahk can revoke their blessing at will, stripping a hireling of their status and power with little more than a thought and causing their private stretch of the Roads to collapse, but tends only to reserve this for creatures who abuse the position the Passage has granted them. With what amounts to Detect Everything in effect at all times (seriously, Barzahk has like 90% of Detect spells going at once), it’s hard to sneak ill will beneath their notice, but those who manage to do the impossible will quickly find out that, despite their flippant attitude, Barzahk violently hates the Dead Roads being exploited and defiled by soul-mongers and will quickly arrive to rid their domain of the infestation.

To begin, lets start by getting something out of the way: If you abuse Barzahk’s trust or infuriate the Usher, there is no hope of escaping your comeuppance. Anyone drawing within 100ft of them is automatically affected by Loneliness Unbroken, an effect which twists space until all paths lead back to the Usher. Unless Barzahk moves away themselves or grants another creature permission to do so, it is impossible to escape this 100ft bubble through any means. Mundane walking or running will simply turn you back around to face Barzahk, while teleportation or portals will just pop you to a random point within the 100ft bubble. Until reparations are made, lessons are delivered, or death occurs to one side of the combat, everyone in the Usher’s presence can’t escape it.

Thankfully, Barzahk isn’t usually the type to just up and kill people who anger them, merely deliver a sound beating or perhaps toy with them with their at-will Major Image, Mirage Arcana, Mirror Image, and Beguiling Gift. Major Image and Mirage Arcana are their specialty, mucking with miscreants and malefactors with creative illusions to convince them that the Usher holds enormous elemental power. While it DOES indeed hold enormous power, it does not lay in Evocation or Conjuration! But Illusion and Necromancy. They can use Empowered versions of both Circle of Death and Undeath to Death 3/day, wiping out entire hordes of smaller foes in a single cast to leave only ones worth the Usher’s attention... And then they can follow up with 3/day Quickened Maze to shut out creatures that are actually a threat. Most of their powers, however, are merely used to support their armies; all Ushers are capable of summoning a CR 20 encounters-worth of Psychopomps, though, and Barzahk prefers to let their summoned allies do the work as they twist the locale with their illusions.

Their dislike of battle is even evident when they get trapped in melee; Barzahk fights with the enormous key-mace at their side, the Surcease of Sorrows, a +4 Impact Repositioning Heavy Mace that deals 2d6+15 damage with every strike, Barzahk able to attack four times a round. They primarily use the Surcease’s enchantments to knock foes aside or onto their backs so Barzahk and their posse can go to town, but the mace is even more useful out of combat, acting as a Chime of Opening with unlimited charges and assuring that no lock or bar or seal can keep them out of a spot for too long. In addition, 3/day, Barzahk can bash aside Abjuration spells and “Wall of [X]” effects with a successful attack roll, knocking down any magical barrier or stripping a foe of all their protective spells to make Barzahk’s otherwise underwhelming melee radius more of a threat.

And speaking of threats, there’s not much capable of threatening Barzahk themselves, because their 30 Regeneration can only be shut off by damage from a deity or Mythic source. They’re also protected by Uncertain Rustling, never quite where they seem to be and imposing a 20% miss chance on all incoming attacks. In addition to THAT, Barzahk is the first Usher we have seen and thus the first example of their own unique method of restoration: Walk With Death. So long as an Usher is within their own domain, Walk With Death makes it impossible for their HP to go below 0, and instantaneously restores them to life if slain, after which they must wait 1 year before returning to life again. However, Barzahk is also an Ominous Bird of Yore, returning from death instantly by growing from one of the many birds that populates the Dead Roads, after which the ability shuts off for 30 days. This means that, in order to permanently kill Barzahk, you must kill them three times. Granted, that’s only if they deign to rejoin the battle after their first death (or remain in the battle to experience it at all), but with Greater Teleport at-will and Interplanetary Teleport 3/day, they can certainly get back to it in an instant if desired. Indeed, most of Barzahk’s CR doesn’t come from their damage potential, but their infuriating resilience and their potential to wear opponents out through illusory tricks and scrubbing the area clean of summons with their necromantic circles.

Barzahk may not enjoy battle, but they’ve certainly got enough resilience to frustrate their foes and enough confounding abilities to distract them until the more brutal guardians of the Boneyard shows up. This is largely their purpose: The first line of defense, a wall that all must break past if they wish to enter the Boneyard, and with Loneliness Unbroken, any battle that begins with Barzahk becomes a race against time to escape the Usher’s presence before the swarm of Psychopomps shows up to overwhelm and dispatch the invaders, or Barzahk tosses thee here ashore and right to the Boneyard’s doorstep and into the waiting arms/teeth of the more violent Ushers.

... Huh. Y’know I never noticed it before, but those ability names are sure something, eh? I’m sure there’s nothing more to them.

You can read more about them here.

#Milestone Monster #Monster Spotlight #CR 26 and up #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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soospiritualjourney · 4 years

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Ego is the enemy by Ryan Holiday

(1) Demosthenes once said that virtue begins with understanding and is fulfilled by courage. We must begin by seeing ourselves and the world in a new way for the first time. Then we must fight to be different and fight to stay different—that’s the hard part. I’m not saying you should repress or crush every ounce of ego in your life—or that doing so is even possible. These are just reminders, moral stories to encourage our better impulses.

(2) The first principle is that you must not fool yourself—and you are the easiest person to fool- RICHARD FEYNMAN

(3) If ego is the voice that tells us we’re better than we really are, we can say ego inhibits true success by preventing a direct and honest connection to the world around us. One of the early members of Alcoholics Anonymous defined ego as “a conscious separation from.” From what? Everything.

(4) The ways this separation manifests itself negatively are immense: We can’t work with other people if we’ve put up walls. We can’t improve the world if we don’t understand it or ourselves. We can’t take or receive feedback if we are incapable of or uninterested in hearing from outside sources. We can’t recognize opportunities—or create them—if instead of seeing what is in front of us, we live inside our own fantasy. Without an accurate accounting of our own abilities compared to others, what we have is not confidence but delusion. How are we supposed to reach, motivate, or lead other people if we can’t relate to their needs—because we’ve lost touch with our own?

(5) The performance artist Marina Abramović puts it directly: “If you start believing in your greatness, it is the death of your creativity.”

(6) Just one thing keeps ego around—comfort. Pursuing great work—whether it is in sports or art or business—is often terrifying. Ego soothes that fear. It’s a salve to that insecurity. Replacing the rational and aware parts of our psyche with bluster and self-absorption, ego tells us what we want to hear, when we want to hear it.

But it is a short-term fix with a long-term consequence.

(7) The aim of that structure is simple: to help you suppress ego early before bad habits take hold, to replace the temptations of ego with humility and discipline when we experience success, and to cultivate strength and fortitude so that when fate turns against you, you’re not wrecked by failure. In short, it will help us be:

* Humble in our aspirations

* Gracious in our success

* Resilient in our failures

(8) The Quaker William Penn observed, “Buildings that lie so exposed to the weather need a good foundation.”

(9) When we remove ego, we’re left with what is real. What replaces ego is humility, yes—but rock-hard humility and confidence. Whereas ego is artificial, this type of confidence can hold weight. Ego is stolen. Confidence is earned. Ego is self-anointed, its swagger is artifice. One is girding yourself, the other gaslighting. It’s the difference between potent and poisonous.

(10) Isocrates - “Practice self-control,” he said, warning Demonicus not to fall under the sway of “temper, pleasure, and pain.” And “abhor flatterers as you would deceivers; for both, if trusted, injure those who trust them.” “Be affable in your relations with those who approach you, and never haughty; for the pride of the arrogant even slaves can hardly endure” and “Be slow in deliberation, but be prompt to carry out your resolves” and that the “best thing which we have in ourselves is good judgment.” Constantly train your intellect, he told him, “for the greatest thing in the smallest compass is a sound mind in a human body.”

Shakespeare

This above all: to thine own self be true,

And it must follow, as the night the day,

Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Farewell. My blessing season this in thee!

Where Isocrates and Shakespeare wished us to be self-contained, self-motivated, and ruled by principle, most of us have been trained to do the opposite. Our cultural values almost try to make us dependent on validation, entitled, and ruled by our emotions. For a generation, parents and teachers have focused on building up everyone’s self-esteem. From there, the themes of our gurus and public figures have been almost exclusively aimed at inspiring, encouraging, and assuring us that we can do whatever we set our minds to. In reality, this makes us weak.

(11) In this phase, you must practice seeing yourself with a little distance, cultivating the ability to get out of your own head. Detachment is a sort of natural ego antidote. It’s easy to be emotionally invested and infatuated with your own work. Any and every narcissist can do that. What is rare is not raw talent, skill, or even confidence, but humility, diligence, and self-awareness.

(12) For your work to have truth in it, it must come from truth. If you want to be more than a flash in the pan, you must be prepared to focus on the long term.

It’s a temptation that exists for everyone—for talk and hype to replace action.

(13) Doing great work is a struggle. It’s draining, it’s demoralizing, it’s frightening—not always, but it can feel that way when we’re deep in the middle of it. We talk to fill the void and the uncertainty.

(14) “A man is worked upon by what he works on,” Frederick Douglass once said. He would know. He’d been a slave, and he saw what it did to everyone involved, including the slaveholders themselves. Once a free man, he saw that the choices people made, about their careers and their lives, had the same effect. What you choose to do with your time and what you choose to do for money works on you. The egocentric path requires, as Boyd knew, many compromises.

(15) To become great and to stay great, they must all know what came before, what is going on now, and what comes next. They must internalize the fundamentals of their domain and what surrounds them, without ossifying or becoming stuck in time.

In our endeavors, we will face complex problems, often in situations we’ve never faced before. Opportunities are not usually deep, virgin pools that require courage and boldness to dive into, but instead are obscured, dusted over, blocked by various forms of resistance. What is really called for in these circumstances is clarity, deliberateness, and methodological determination.

(16) Passion typically masks a weakness. Its breathlessness and impetuousness and franticness are poor substitutes for discipline, for mastery, for strength and purpose and perseverance.

(17) “Whom the gods wish to destroy,” Cyril Connolly famously said, “they first call promising.”

(18) Only you know the race you’re running. That is, unless your ego decides the only way you have value is if you’re better than, have more than, everyone everywhere. More urgently, each one of us has a unique potential and purpose; that means that we’re the only ones who can evaluate and set the terms of our lives. Far too often, we look at other people and make their approval the standard we feel compelled to meet, and as a result, squander our very potential and purpose.

(19) According to Seneca, the Greek word euthymia is one we should think of often: it is the sense of our own path and how to stay on it without getting distracted by all the others that intersect it. In other words, it’s not about beating the other guy. It’s not about having more than the others. It’s about being what you are, and being as good as possible at it, without succumbing to all the things that draw you away from it. It’s about going where you set out to go. About accomplishing the most that you’re capable of in what you choose. That’s it. No more and no less. (By the way, euthymia means “tranquillity” in English.)

(20) It is not enough to have great qualities; we should also have the management of them.

—LA ROCHEFOUCAULD

(21) Feel unprotected against the elements or forces or surroundings. Remind yourself how pointless it is to rage and fight and try to one-up those around you. Go and put yourself in touch with the infinite, and end your conscious separation from the world. Reconcile yourself a bit better with the realities of life. Realize how much came before you, and how only wisps of it remain.

(22) Let the feeling carry you as long as you can. Then when you start to feel better or bigger than, go and do it again.

(23) The historian Shelby Foote observed that “power doesn’t so much corrupt; that’s too simple. It fragments, closes options, mesmerizes.” That’s what ego does. It clouds the mind precisely when it needs to be clear. Sobriety is a counterbalance, a hangover cure—or better, a prevention method.

(24) As Plutarch finely expressed, “The future bears down upon each one of us with all the hazards of the unknown.” The only way out is through.

(25) According to Greene, there are two types of time in our lives: dead time, when people are passive and waiting, and alive time, when people are learning and acting and utilizing every second. Every moment of failure, every moment or situation that we did not deliberately choose or control, presents this choice: Alive time. Dead time.

That’s what so many of us do when we fail or get ourselves into trouble. Lacking the ability to examine ourselves, we reinvest our energy into exactly the patterns of behavior that caused our problems to begin with.

In life, we all get stuck with dead time. Its occurrence isn’t in our control. Its use, on the other hand, is.

(26) As Booker T. Washington most famously put it, “Cast down your bucket where you are.” Make use of what’s around you. Don’t let stubbornness make a bad situation worse.

(27) A dangerous attitude because when someone works on a project—whether it’s a book or a business or otherwise—at a certain point, that thing leaves their hands and enters the realm of the world. It is judged, received, and acted on by other people. It stops being something he controls and it depends on them.

(28) There was an unusual encounter between Alexander the Great and the famous Cynic philosopher Diogenes. Allegedly, Alexander approached Diogenes, who was lying down, enjoying the summer air, and stood over him and asked what he, the most powerful man in the world, might be able to do for this notoriously poor man. Diogenes could have asked for anything. What he requested was epic: “Stop blocking my sun.” Even two thousand years later we can feel exactly where in the solar plexus that must have hit Alexander, a man who always wanted to prove how important he was. As the author Robert Louis Stevenson later observed about this meeting, “It is a sore thing to have labored along and scaled arduous hilltops, and when all is done, find humanity indifferent to your achievement.”

(29) This is why we can’t let externals determine whether something was worth it or not. It’s on us.The world is, after all, indifferent to what we humans “want.” If we persist in wanting, in needing, we are simply setting ourselves up for resentment or worse. Doing the work is enough.

(30) Duris dura franguntur. Hard things are broken by hard things.

The bigger the ego the harder the fall.

(31) Hemingway had his own rock-bottom realizations as a young man. The understanding he took from them is expressed timelessly in his book A Farewell to Arms. He wrote, “The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills.”

(32) The world can show you the truth, but no one can force you to accept it.

(33) “Everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed,” reads John 3:20.

(34) In the end, the only way you can appreciate your progress is to stand on the edge of the hole you dug for yourself, look down inside it, and smile fondly at the bloody claw prints that marked your journey up the walls.

(35) It can ruin your life only if it ruins your character.

—MARCUS AURELIUS

(36) The problem is that when we get our identity tied up in our work, we worry that any kind of failure will then say something bad about us as a person. It’s a fear of taking responsibility, of admitting that we might have messed up. It’s the sunk cost fallacy. And so we throw good money and good life after bad and end up making everything so much worse.

(37) Ego kills what we love. Sometimes, it comes close to killing us too.

(38) “Act with fortitude and honor,” he wrote to a distraught friend in serious financial and legal trouble of the man’s own making. “If you cannot reasonably hope for a favorable extrication, do not plunge deeper. Have the courage to make a full stop.” - Alexander Hamilton

(39) Because you will lose in life. It’s a fact. A doctor has to call time of death at some point. They just do.

Ego says we’re the immovable object, the unstoppable force. This delusion causes the problems. It meets failure and adversity with rule breaking—betting everything on some crazy scheme; doubling down on behind-the-scenes machinations or unlikely Hail Marys—even though that’s what got you to this pain point in the first place.

(40) “He who fears death will never do anything worthy of a living man,” Seneca once said. Alter that: He who will do anything to avoid failure will almost certainly do something worthy of a failure.

The only real failure is abandoning your principles. Killing what you love because you can’t bear to part from it is selfish and stupid. If your reputation can’t absorb a few blows, it wasn’t worth anything in the first place.

(41) And why should we feel anger at the world?

As if the world would notice!

—EURIPIDES

#ryan holiday #ego is the enemy #quotes

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reneestation2 · 5 years

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Draft under the cut

This is an EXTREMELY rough draft on my version of the creation of the Vampire Killer in Castlevania: Lament of Innocence. It begins as Leon and Rinaldo go outside after they find out Sara overheard their conversation.

[[MORE]]

Sara: Leon... what were you talking about with this old man? Why was he telling you to kill me? I dont want to die. I- I dont even know what's going on. What do you know that you're not telling me?

Sara was disturbingly frantic in her barrage of questions.

Leon: Sara, listen. Calm down, let me explain.

Sara: Why are you so calm? Why-

Leon: Sara, please listen... That vampire who kidnapped you, Walter. He's infected you with vampirism.

Sara: I'm a vampire?

Rinaldo: No, you're not a vampire yet. Although, in time, the infection will spread. [[You'll feel it. And you will be a vampire.]]

Sara: So, you plan to kill me for it?

Leon: No! I don't. Sara, I love you. I came here to save you and that's exactly what I'm going to do.

Rinaldo: Leon, you don't know what you're dealing with. How exactly do you plan to cure her?

Leon: All I need to do is kill Walter. Since he's the source of Sara's curse, killing him will kill his magics on her.

Rinaldo: Don't be absurd. You told me yourself that he's immune to your attempts. You're not capable of harming him or his magics.

Sara: Leon... is that true?

Leon: ...yes. None of my attacks worked on him. His magic is extreme and he's impenetrable.

Sara: I don't understand. He's somehow invincible and all-powerful?

Leon: Sara-

Sara: STOP!

Sara collapses and grunts in agony as an overwhelming pain engulfs her heart and her fingertips start to feel the sensation of frostbite.

Leon: Sara-

Sara: I said STOP!

Sara points her knife at Leon, warning him to stay away.

Leon: Rinaldo, what do I do?

Rinaldo: Well... there's the Blood Bond-

Leon: That's not the only thing to do, you know that. Walter's not invincible, I just need a stronger weapon.

Rinaldo: That whip is the most powerful weapon I've ever made, and you are the most powerful wielder of that weapon. How exactly do you think I know how to make it stronger other than this ritual?

Leon was stunned silent, disbelieving of a method that requires a seemingly unnecessary sacrifice. (Maybe put something reminiscent of Joachim here)

Leon: Would you be so insistent on this ritual if your daughter were in the place of my wife?

Rinaldo froze as Leon's question tore at his soul, but reminded him of his heartbreak when Walter turned Justine. He searched up and down for another way but didnt have the time to actually save her before she caused more harm. He forced himself to gather the resolve of killing that monster, formerly his daughter with the same whip Leon wielded. But this time IS different. He'd studied anti-vampire transmutations, rituals, and other crafts. He learned a lot more for the sake of his revenge on Walter Bernhard, and he remembered his heartbreak, his lament.

Leon: I'm telling you how important this is to me, Rinaldo. Sara is my life. Let me save her.

Sara: Leon... my heart hurts... I can't... feel.. my hands.... my neck is swollen. Am I... turning? Please, you have to stop this.

Leon: I will, (insert consolation here)

Leon started to break down, the sight of his wife in distress started to warmly blur. Rinaldo finally realized that there was still time to do something.

Rinaldo: Leon, go inside. There's a black tome with a green trim. Bring it here.

Leon: Alright.

Leon wipes his tears aside and walks inside the cottage.

Rinaldo walks over to Sara and kneels down.

Rinaldo: Sara, can you stand?

Sara looks up at Rinaldo. Her eyes showing different hues in pain. His eyes show nothing but yearn and sorrow.

Sara: Rinaldo? I'm hurting... so very much. Please help.

Rinaldo: You're going to be okay, Sara. I promise. I need you to give me absolute trust and stand up for me.

Sara: Am I going to be okay?

Rinaldo: You are going to okay, and you won't be a vampire. All I need you to do is stand and trust me.

Sara knew this old man was genuine in his intentions and with his request. She stands with a newfound motivation to live and fight this curse inside her. Leon comes back with the tome and tries handing it to Rinaldo.

Rinaldo: Do you know what that is, Leon?

Leon: I'd assume a tome designated to alchemy. You're looking for a different method.

Rinaldo: No.

Leon: No?

Rinaldo: I'm giving that tome to you, Leon. I want you to give it to Mathias. There are some secret techniques I've added to that tome that he can make good use out of.

Leon: Okay... what does this have to-

Rinaldo: I plan on taking Sara's vampirism for myself... and perforning the Blood Bond Ritual.

Leon: What? Why? You can't. I need you. You don't have to sacrifice yourself like this.

Sara: Rinaldo... are you sure of this? Giving your life to cure me?

Rinaldo: I am, as there is a lot my death would bring. It would bring the power of my whip to be able to defeat Walter, and as a vampire, my death would reunite me with my daughter, who suffered a fate similar to yours. And it would give you two the life you deserve. One where you have each other. Thick and thin. Peace and conflict. You two shall never be separated, even in spirit. I have the power and the will to make it. So, shall it be.

Leon: But you deserve a life just as much as us.

Rinaldo: Dont be so petulant, Leon. I'm just an old man, bound to the fate of this vampire who has willed Sara's death as he did my daughter's. What I need you to realize is once Walter is defeated, my sacrifice will not be in vain. I trust you to do this Leon. You've gone through so much for Sara's sake, and even for mine. I made this weapon, and it's only appropriate that I be the one to complete it.

Leon: Rinaldo... thank you. You'll have the revenge you deserve. Sara and I will have the life we deserve. This, I promise to you.

Rinaldo: That's all I need from you... thank you... actually, hand me that tome for a second. I need to make sure I'm going to be doing this correctly.

Leon hands Rinaldo the tome and he flips the page over to some information on the crimson stone. Specifically on how it can take the soul of vampires. He flipped over to 'tainted souls' and how vampirism was more of a fusion that took time to fully fuse. He devised a ritual where he'll make his own soul a sort of catalyst for Walter's vampiric energy, leaving Sara's soul intact, and by making Ronaldo's own soul tainted, Blood Bonding with his own whip would create the Vampire Killer, a weapon capable of destroying Walter.

Rinaldo: I've decided all I needed, thank you. Set this aside so we may begin.

Leon takes the tome and sets it aside. The three then form a line at Rinaldo's request so that Sara is beside Rinaldo and Rinaldo is beside Leon. He has to perform basically 2 different rituals.

Rinaldo: Sara, how are you feeling?

Sara, with volleys of tears down her face: I'm sorry, and grateful.

Rinaldo could no longer hold back the tears starting to stream down his face. He felt immense love for these people he had just met, and a long awaited reunification was to be made.

Rinaldo: As am I. Ok, I need you to focus your spirit on me. Clear your mind of your pain or any inhuman thirst you might have.

Sara: Ok.

She stared at Rinaldo for a couple of seconds before closing her eyes, clearing her mind, and focusing her spirit on Rinaldo. A runed circle started sprouting below them as he started the transmutation.

Rinaldo: All Becomes One in Infinity...

Thou Whose Soul Hath Been Tainted Shall Be Wholly Purified

Thine Hatred Shall Be Mine As Shall All Powers Bestowed Upon Thee

I Accept My Fate As To Succumb to Thirst

To Never Walk the Light

To Be Undesired By All

To Be Eternally Damned in Life and After Death

Grant Me Your Curse!

A red mist emerged from Sara's heart and slowly migrated inside Rinaldo. He grew significantly paler and was under the same excruciating pain Sara was under not much earlier. He held himself together long enough as to complete the spell.

Leon: My God, you actually did it. This whip isnt responding to Sara anymore.... but... it responds to you in its place.

Rinaldo: hehehe, did you really just doubt my abilities?

Leon: Hahaha, sorry, I'm just....

Leon couldnt hold back his tears anymore. Everybody was fucking crying.

Rinaldo: Jesus, not you too...

Leon hugged Rinaldo tight. This was his last human experience with him.

Leon: We've been through so much... I dont want to do this.

Rinaldo: I know, Leon.

They both felt each others tears on their clothes. Sara hugged Rinaldo from behind and he started to feel her tears as well.

Rinaldo: Its weird. I'm in so much pain, yet I'm crying too much to realize it. We have to begin, Leon.

Leon and Sara each gave one final squeeze before finally letting go. Sara stood to the side and Leon stood in front of Rinaldo.

Rinaldo: Leon, think only of your hatred. Think of your revenge on Walter for all he's done to us, then focus your spirit on me.

Leon again wiped his tears, focused on his loss and the revenge he would take. He closed his eyes and focused on Rinaldo.

One final circle began sprouting as Rinaldo began his final transmutation.

Rinaldo: All Becomes One in Infinity

Undesired and Cursed Soul

His Blood Accepts Your Hatred

For The Power to Slay Your Kind...

Do it now, Leon!

Leon: I swear to you... no more will suffer your fate!

Leon did not hold back on his strike against Rinaldo. The tip of his whip having so much velocity and energy from the transmutation, that it killed Rinaldo after he let out a pained cry that echoed in the Forest. With the echoes gone, his body fell to the ground, the power of his tainted soul fused with the whip. It was finally done. Sara ran to Leon and hugged him tight as Leon reciprocated with the same intensity. Both whispering "I love you" to one another and crying.

After some moments to themselves, they made a grave for Rinaldo at the back of his shack. They grabbed a tall rock for his headstone and picked some flowers to make a wreath for him. They had been crying hard for a while so their voices started to get hoarse. They were both kneeled in front of his grave.

Sara: He said his daughter was turned in to a vampire by Walter, right.

Leon: That's right. And the rest of his family was killed by her.

Sara: We should say a prayer for them to be reunited. All of them.

Leon smiled and held both of Sara's hands gently.

Leon: Let's do it, together.

Sara smiled back. The two closed their eyes and bowed their heads, their foreheads intimately touching.

Leon and Sara: (insert official funeral hymn words here)

After they were done, the crying and sadness went away for a while. As the two finally had each other. But Leon still had one thing left to do.

Leon: I need you to stay inside for me. I have to go and kill Walter.

He picked up the Vampire Killer and felt the immense power and hatred stored within. This whip is meant to kill the kindred of the night. The hatred was so strong it was even responding to the eternal blood moon above. This whip had the power to destroy Walter, and now that it was in his, hand, he became hellbent on doing so.

Sara: Leon, take this.

It was Sara's engraved dagger that Leon gave to her.

Leon: Are... are you breaking up with me?

Sara: What? No! Leon, my dagger is SILVER. And vampires dont like silver or things going through their heart, right?

Leon: Oh.... right....

Leon was completely uttered in shame as he had ruined all the dramatic tension because he was being dumb.

Sara: I want you to show my hatred toward him for me as well. Show him that, I'm still here, and my fire lives within you. Just like Rinaldo.

Leon: With pleasure, love.

The two kiss one last time before he sets out for the castle once more.

-END CHAPTER-

#sorry if youre on mobile #long post #castlevania #lament of innocence #also if you guys know a really good christian funeral hymn that doesnt mention Jesus that would work in this scene hell yes please tell me #im planning on giving this story a lot of exposition and way more emotion and just fixing the story in general #spoiler: sara doesnt die #find out who dies by scrolling up a lil bit

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legion1993 · 5 years

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Let Me Be Your Saving Grace

Title: Let Me Be Your Saving Grace

Square Filled: Michael!Dean

Ship: Dean x reader / Michael x reader

Rating: 18+

Tags: death, rape, vaginal penetration, possession

Summary (If applicable): shhh… it’s a surprise….

Word Count (If applicable):

Created for @spnkinkbingo.

SPN Kink Bingo Masterlist

Choices. We make them every single day, but when we make these choices, we don’t often think of the consequences.

My name is Y/N this is the story of a choice, a very important choice. one that was made to save my life this choice was made by my fiance. for him to become he who would do anything to bring on the apocalypse and to save my life.

<<< lets go now to set the facts straight>>>

Dean: “okay, so we are only 1 ring away from having the ability to lock lucifer back in the cage...”

you came up behind him, to wrap your arms around him... Dean had no idea of what was really about to happen.

Y/N: “Dont worry... right now we have time ok... we will save Sam... plus i think someone needs to relax and stop stressing. i understand your scared... baby i am too but we are hunters, now come on there is a massive mixed hunt next town over. come on there are signs of vampires, demons, werewolves & angels... come on D... Please lets go have some fun!”

Dean could only look at you with what could only be a worried expression as he spun you round to have you straddle his lap...

Dean: “my dear Y/N always trying to keep my hope alive... okay lets go on that hunt.”

you kissed him, grinding him a bit as he held you close for that moment. it was a moment of bliss... before you guys would head out on the hunt that would forever change your lives!

Y/N: “babe, i’ve already packed bags and put them in the impala. i always knew that being with you was gonna be a brand new adventure, but its turning out to be the best adventure of my life.”

Dean: “i guess we should head out... i mean we got a few hours before nightfall & i would hate to miss chopping down any of these sons of bitches.”

Dean kissed you again and smiled, lifting you up as he stood setting you slowly back on your feet. breaking the kiss you 2 walked out to the car got in and started driving. you however had a very haunting feeling one which would not leave till fate ran its course.

Dean could tell you were concerned so about half way through the drive Dean spoke up.

Dean: “babe you okay? you look troubled.”

Y/N: “i know its just i feel like something’s wrong, i dont know how to explain it but i can almost feel it...”

Dean: “its probably just post-engagement jitters...”

yes its true you guys were engaged. this happened not but a few months ago.

Dean: “once we get to town we will find out why so many monsters are in one place at one time. Y/N are you ready?”

you take a deep breath in and a fire ignites in your eyes.

Y/N: “lets go kick some ass & raise a little hell...”

that also set a fire in Dean’s eyes... Dean & you arrived in the next town just before the sun finished setting.

checking into the nearest motel all seemed normal, that is till you took notice of a large group of men following you.

luckily Dean also noticed, you guys were very prepared. for you unlocked the door to your room & made it seem like you were going inside.

Dean (whispers): “on my mark...”

Y/N (whispers): “always... what are they do you think?”

Dean gestures his count down. you hear a low deep hiss that made you jump. thats when realization on what they were struck.

Y/N (whispers): “babe they are vamps...”

you drew your machete, but turned & it was too late... you guys were ambushed.

Dean: “Babe... RUN!!!!”

you guys started running but only got a bit ahead before being surrounded. surrounded by what you both realized wasnt just vamps. it was Angels, demons & werewolves.

Dean: “whats wrong? did everyone loose their leaders?”

thats when the crowd of monsters surrounding you cleared a path, only to show someone who you both were not expecting to show up...

the one person who you knew could seperate you from Dean...

Michael, the archangel possessing the vessal of a girl... but his eyes & shadow gave him away.

Michael smiled darkly, eyeing you up and down making sure to mentally undress you slowly... physically however he began to speak.

Michael: “well well well, loook at what we have here... my trap worked perfectly... surround them, take their weapons, seperate them from eachother... if they resist kill them.”

michael stepped back... the vamps, wolves, demons & angels approached starting to disarm and seperate both you and Dean.

you watched Dean let them disarm him, but when they went to seperate you from him and disarm you. you wouldnt have it.

you began to fight back... going after everything you came across. but there was nothing that michael wouldnt do to get the point across.

Michael snapped his fingers, the monsters that surrounded you... knocked you to the ground, within seconds you were bitten, bruised, scratched & stabbed. Dean struggled against the monsters that held him back, forcing him to witness the sight of you on the ground as a pool of blood started to form.

Michael: “when are you going to realize that nothing as it seems... Dean you and her are never gonna live happily ever after.”

Michael turned his attention to your now still form, he watched your aura fade.. when he faded he knew you were dead.. he smiled darkly for he now had a motive to get Dean to say yes.

Michael: “Your fiance is dead, now make your choice Dean!”

Dean: “go fuck yourself bastard. you and your bitch crew killed the love of my life. why the hell would i ever agree to become your vessal?”

Michael: “if you agree to let me take your body as my vessal. i’ll bring the love of your life back from the dead. you have 24 hours to give me your answer...”

michael and his goon squad disappeared leaving Dean in the middle of the road with you dead in his arms. after several minutes Dean let out a pained scream followed by tears and this sentence.

Dean: “CASTIEL, GET YOUR FEATHERY ASS DOWN HERE NOW!!!!!!”

Cas appears and is instantly shocked at the sight of Dean holding your dead body.

Cas: “Dean what happened? is she?”

Dean then looked at Cas now letting the tears fall freely. Cas came up and hugged Dean the best he could. Dean just leaned in sobbing. it no sooner became close to dawn that brought concern to Cas.

Cas: “Dean we have to move her, this will attract alot of attention... where did you guys drive here from.”

Dean: “a hotel in Lebanon.”

Dean knew cas was right, dean shrugged the keys from his pocket for he knew that he was in no condition to drive. Cas helped dean place you in his lap in the back of the impala. but instead of just driving all of you back to Lebanon, he snapped his fingers to bring you guys back to the hotel.

Dean & cas together got your body inside, laying your still form on the nearest bed. Dean threw off his jacket and in an emotional rut he sat on the edge of the other bed.

Cas: “its not your fault Dean. your love for her wasn’t wrong. Dean it was her choice, you & Y/N are written in the stars. you guys are pre-destined. i hope you can find the heart to tell me what happened. I’m always here for you.”

Dean: “look okay michael and his goon squad killed her. michael gave me 24 hours to become his vessal. if i agree to become his vessal he said he would bring her back.”

Cas: “your not gonna do it are you?”

Dean: “what else do i do cas? i don’t have any other choice. i won’t live without her.”

Dean screamed at that moment he didn’t realize that his yelling wasn’t helping anything. he also realized that as much as he wanted you back he had to be careful about his choice.

Cas: "dean Y/N isnt dead..."

this made dean's head snap up... he glared at cas with tear struck eyes and quivering hands.

Dean: "what do you mean she isnt dead... cas look at her... what do you know that i dont?"

cas: "that Y/N isnt a regular hunter. her mother around the time of her conception slept with 2 very different beings."

dean: "wait her mother had a threesome..."

cas rolled his eyes and began pacing...

cas: "her mother slept with both an archangel and a vampire... the vampire bit her turning her as the archangel finished unloading into her. it concieved Y/N. her powers abilities etc. were hidden, placed under lock and key... the only thing that can wake her is archangel grace."

dean couldnt believe what he just heard, he couldnt believe that he was hearing this come out of his friends mouth.

dean: "wait so if she isnt dead what is the state she is in called?"

cas: "acoma, we have alot of similar medical terms for our things. to michael it looked like she died. when i got there i noticed that she was just in acoma..."

dean: "i have to do it..."

Cas looked at Dean like he wasnt thinking clearly.

Cas: “if your talking about doing what i think you are don’t nothing good will come from it.”

Dean: “Y/N has always had the power of good and evil inside her, it makes her special, makes her who she is. i have to take michael’s essense into myself and kiss her. would that do the trick?”

Cas’ jaw just dropped down to the floor. but he watched as Dean now stood facing the mirror.

Cas: “are you insane? if you say yes to michael he won’t let you go... you know that right?”

Dean: “of course i do, its just if i don’t do this she will never wake up... and i can’t live on if she is like this forever!”

Cas: “ok do what you want, but dont expect me to watch.”

cas disappeared as dean stood now in the room alone. there was more pain in his heart, than there was on his body.

Dean: “michael you son of a bitch get down here now. i’m prepared to offer you a deal.”

Dean sat by your bedside and waited... he waited for several hours.. all this waiting was making him edgy.

Dean: “look ass-douche, hear this. i dean winchester ask thee michael to use my body so i may save my love, you think you killed her but she is in an acoma-like state.”

at that last word Michael appeared. Dean wasn’t going to let Michael physically go near you.

Michael: “but she’s dead. i can’t believe my own eyes decieved me...”

Dean: “yeah well believe it but lets get one thing straight. you must stay in the back of my mind and let me do this. let me use your angelic power to save the love of my life. then i’ll help you stop lucifer. do we have an accords?”

Michael: “on 1 condition, lets be the greatest duo of all times cause once i am sharing your body... I’m Never Letting You Go...”

dean didn’t have time to blink before Michael left his vessal and made his way into Dean’s body.

Michael's essence pushed Dean aside but michael kept him close enough that he culd see what was about to happen. dean kept yelling and yelling at michael but it didnt work.

dean: "whats the meaning of this? give me back control of my body bitch?"

michael: "afraid you only get to watch this time buddy as i fuck the daylights out of your fiance."

Michael approached your still form snapping his fingers he removed both yours and Deans clothes. then he spread your legs lining “His” cock up with your entrance.

Michael rubbed the tip against your pussy which was soaked. Dean had no idea what michael was planning.

Dean: “michael what the hell is that grin doing on my face? your about to rape MY fiance. not yours... MINE.”

Michael: “she became mine as well when i took over your body...”

Michael at that second penetrated your vagina, he could hear Dean screaming in the back of his mind. but ignored him instead michael sped up, gaining speed with each thrust.

it wasnt until about 5 minutes later that Dean realized what Michael’s plan was.

Dean: “michael i swear to god if you cum inside her, i will fucking expell you from my body.”

Michael once more ignored dean’s incessant nagging and reached final stretch to climax. finally Dean felt it, he was about to cum. he had to leave a message some how for you... he had to regain control for one small minute long enough to write a letter or leave a message or something.

Dean knew his brain like the back of his hand, so he went to the pleasure part of his brain, and made michael pull out a bit just as he came. Michael pulled out of you entirely once he had released all of the cum.

Michael: “i can feel you poking around in there i hope your not the reason why i didnt cum inside of your girl...”

Dean: “no but im the reason for this...”

Dean had found one of his mental blockers, he stuck it around michael’s grace shaving off a bit of it he took that to his mouth section. now having control back of his body he put a cover over you and put his pants back on...

then he called for Cas, who appeared within seconds.

Cas: “what...”

Dean: “i dont have alot of time let me tell you this... when Y/N wakes after i kiss her you need to help her recover the last horsemen ring and stop the apocalypse. and tell her i love her and intend to marry her properly when im free of Michael’s hold. please my friend guard her with your life.”

Dean leaned down feeling michael breaking free, Dean kissed you releasing that little sliver of angel grace into you. then he disappeared using michael’s powers to get far enough away from you that michael wouldnt ever be able to find you.

it was a few seconds later that you woke up.

#spnkinkbingo

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toomanysweaters-moved · 5 years

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So I guess, for those interested in the My Hero Academia OCs...

Name: Original unknown. Had it legally changed to “Nanashi No Gombe” (essentially, and intentionally, just means “Nameless Mr. So-and-So”. Yeah, translations aren’t perfect, I’m well aware).

Nickname: “R@tking” is his screen name. He doesn’t make an effort to give himself an identifiable “villain persona” since he doesn’t really care.

Occupation: Hacker for hire, for lack of a better term.

Quirk: “Data Touch”. In simple terms, he can convert digital data to “mental data” that can be stored in the human brain, & vice versa, as well as transfer said data to viable storage (be it a hard drive or someone else’s brain). All of which can be done through just a touch.

*Some things he’s done, canonically, are: save the entire Bee Move Script to his long-term memories, upload Bonzi Buddy onto a hero’s brain out of spite, and change a villain’s native language to Klingon.

Origin: Came as a result of a Quirk Marriage between a technopath and telepath, trying to breed a child with both their quirks (I.E. Todoroki). When the child immediately seem to have any power over minds OR technology, and even seemed to be quirkless, they disowned him. Only for him to discover his abilities on his own later in life. And use it to his own ends.

Name: Kumo Oshiro.

Nickname: The awfully generic “Spider Queen”, as she loves to call herself. She’s honestly much more of a princess, though.

Occupation: Assassin.

Quirk: “Armored Arachnid”. There’s no real explanation needed; she’s a fucking spider-centaur with an exoskeleton stronger than steel that looks like something out of a Monster Manual. She’s terrifying.

Origin: Her father, a deadbeat nobody Yakuza with a worthless “spider silk” quirk, was an avid user of Trigger in order to make himself useful. As his criminal career seemed to slow to a crawl, he had the wonderful drunk idea to have sex while on pumped full of the stuff... and as it turns out, using a quirk-amplifying super drug while having unprotected diddly doo can come with some very severe consequences.

Name: Mai Akino.

Nickname: “Chimera”. Well, I mean, that was originally her nickname for her villain verse, but looking back on it now I like it more.

Occupation: U.A. Student! Second year!

Quirk: “You are what you eat”. She can mimic the traits of animals she consumes; grow deer antlers, bear claws, snake fangs, shark gills, things like that. If that sounds familiar, I’M WELL AWARE a character with almost that exact quirk ended up appearing later in the series... she was my first OC, and I made her before reading the manga. But hey, it actually ended up really cute because she looked up to Tamaki...

Origin: This absolute fucking angel. Her mother, who was a retired pro-hero with a simple “cat” quirk, raised her to be the softest, sweetest, most hard-working little thing with high moral values... at least, before she ended up suffering fatal injuries from what was suspected to be a random criminal encounter. The last thing she did for Mai was make sure she was taken care of; got her applied to U.A. like she’d always wanted.

*Tl;dr DEAD MOMS DEAD MOMS DEAD MOMS DEAD

*... also, her dad is a mystery to her.

Name: Masami Akiyama.

Nickname: “Comeback, the Delinquent Hero”.

Occupation: Pro Hero. Runs her own “Hero Office” in Hiroshima... which, in actuality, is just a cheaply refurbished gym in the bad part of the city. She only wanted her own office because she didn’t like other people telling her what to do, much less what she was doing wrong.

Quirk: “Kinetic Adaptation”. Complicated explanation aside, the jist of it is she can essentially become as hard as the hardest thing she’s gone up against, and hit as hard as the hardest thing that hit her. So, persay, if she got shot with a gun and survived, she can now punch with equal force to the bullet. Similarly, if she were to punch a brick wall at full force, her entire form is now as tough as said brick wall... at the cost of bloody and possibly broken knuckles.

*She compensates for the fact her quirk inherently ends up with her having to get hurt by being a fucking bruiser. A self-taught martial artist that doesn’t fight fair whatsoever, and ends up fucking up criminals without even needed to use the quirk she gets her nickname from.

Origin: Nothing particularly special about her. Just a girl that came from a household with an overly strict, unloving mother... and in turn, grew a nasty temper and a resentment for authority. She didn’t originally plan on going into the Hero Program, despite a desire to do good... but, the appearance of the hero Midnight made her reconsider.

*She’s a no-nonsense hero. She does her job, and does it really well, but doesn’t do it pretty. She works within the limitations of the job, and doesn’t actually do anything that goes against the rules, but... she has a very poor public opinion because she isn’t flashy and can be pretty brutal.

*A student muse interning under her actually compared her attitude to that of Eraserhead, in that she doesn’t care for the “celebrity” side of hero work and just wants to do her job, which I think was pretty apt.

Name: Undecided! I never actually got to finishing up her blog, but did have the intention of having most of her family actually be from the United States if that can give you any indication.

Nickname: “Parlor Trick, the Magician Hero”.

Occupation: Pro Hero, but very recently out of school. Probably still working as an assistant to more experienced heroes.

Quirk: “Magician’s Secret”. Can, seemingly, will all manner of magical shows & tricks into existence by her desire alone... a very odd quirk with unclear functions and even more unclear limitations. No one actual knowledge of it seems willing to explain it, either.

Origin: She and her quirk come from a family of hero’s, passing along thee same quirk; all originating from her great grandfather. who was of the first generation to actually gain quirks... and actually used it to become a legendary magician, until he was officially ousted as having used his powers to “cheat” and is remembered as being completely fraudulent. Ever since, the rest of her family have become very successful heroes and constantly work to bring good-wil back to their name.

Name: Also undecided. Never got around to her blog, either.

Nickname: None. She’s barely a villain in the traditional sense, so coming up with a edgy alias was never big on her list of priorities.

Occupation: Urchin, in that she’s legally homeless and survives by what she can steal. Albeit... she’s not doing THAT poorly.

Quirk: “Sinkhole”. Does exactly as described- it’s a powerful emitter quirk that can create huge fucking sinkholes. Pretty much useless for direct combat, but is great for causing a big scene that people will run away from and hopefully not get injured by, leaving her to raid store shelves unimpeded under the guise of it being a normal disaster.

Origin: She was born to a fairy decent couple, with a fairly decent early life... sadly, it all changed when her quirk activated the age of ten, during the stresses of a natural earthquake... in which, in it’s uncontrolled state, she ended up accidentally destroying her home... and, although it’s arguable, causing the deaths of her parents. She ended up orphaned, and after wasting a five or six years at the orphanage... she just walked out and decided to make a life for herself.

*Without a proper education, family, or support though... there wasn’t many options for her. One day, she tried shoplifting, was caught, and in the stress of the situation... her quirk activated again and caused a panic. Everyone went running thinking it was a earthquake... which gave her ample time to take whatever she wanted on her way out. And thus, her “occupation” became clear.

I think, at this point, I should probably just make a BNHA Multimuse.

#She says I'm her spirit animal... // OOC //#not blog related #was on tangent and wanted to explain all of them bc i love them #i'm gonna have to make a fucking multimuse when the storm is gone aren't i

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cassandrale179 · 5 years

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EX MACHINA: THE PRICE OF CREATION

Date: April 6, 2019

“To erase the lines between men and machine is to erase the lines between men and god”

Bernie Wrightson (1983).

I. ON HUMAN EGO

I opportunistically watched Ex Machina after reading Mary Shelley’ Frankenstein; or the Modern Prometheus, and the random-idea connector in me could not help but compared the two. There’s just something beautiful about seeing a tale written back in 19th century running in parallel with a modern film about AI rendered by the talented Alex Garland. In both stories, the creators -- Victor (Frankenstein), who wanted to manufacture life out of death, and Nathan (Ex Machina), who wanted to manufactured consciousness out of electrons, are induced by the need to transcend the boundary of what is scientifically possible. Yet if one dig deeper, their rationales are more than simple scientific curiosity. There is something more sinister at play, that drove man towards his greatest innovations, and his greatest downfalls: egotism.

A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as I should deserve theirs.

- Shelly, ch.4

Victor Frankenstein wanted to assemble a monster due to an inherent desire to be its patriarchal Father, with the haughty notion that his intelligence and ambition will be rewarded by the gratitude of his subservient children. This was strikingly similar Nathan’s reaction to this beautiful line from Ex Machina:

Caleb: “To erase the lines between men and machine is to erase the lines between men and god.”

When Caleb proclaimed this axiom, Nathan’s eye suddenly lit up, as he pondered: “You know I wrote it down… About how if I’ve created a conscious machine, I’m not man. I’m God”. Though Caleb protested that was not his intention, Nathan seemed to be flattered by the implication that he had ascended upon a new category beyond the norm. “I am God”, quoted Nathan again and again throughout the movie, arrogantly.

For some inexplicable reason, I am very drawn towards movie and literature that centers around a protagonist who fell under the naive judgement that possession of raw intelligence equates to inherent moral and existential superiority. One that came immediately to my mind is Dostoyevsky’s portrayal of the character Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment. In the story, Raskolnikov, an impoverished student in Petersburg, was obsessed with the Nietzschean idea of the Übermensch:

Raskolnikov: "I hinted that an 'extraordinary' man has the right, an inner right to decide in his own conscience to overstep...certain obstacles, and only in case it is essential for the practical fulfillment of his idea (sometimes, perhaps, of benefit to the whole of humanity)."

- Dostoyevsky, ch.3

He tried to use this justification as the basis for a planned murder. This egotism led to Raskolnikov’s downfall when he realized that his intellectual ramblings are nothing more than dishonest rationalizations, and he must now faced with guilt of his conscience. Egotism propelled the cruel treatment of both the creators on their subjects, especially in Nathan’s case, who refused to realize that he had created something more capable and superior than himself.

II. ON WHAT CONSTITUTE HUMAN-NESS

Which bring me to the next point: the creator-subject relationship. There is an interesting dynamics from the standpoint of the child (the subject) in regard to on their initial desire to please, and inevitable subsequent desire to usurp, against their creator. Some have purported that Shelley’s decision to write Frankenstein was indeed a guise of her tumultuous relationship with her father, who she both detested and desired to please (she also went on to write Mathilda, an even more scandalous novel under Victorian society’s eyes, with themes of incest and suicide). But I stumbled upon these beautiful lines inside Frankenstein which illustrated the struggle of the monster and Ava towards their creator most succinctly:

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me Man, did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me? - John Milton, Paradise Lost

As creatures of consciousness, capable of thinking and reasoning as and more than a human, it is quite an unfortunate that both received treatment as lesser human beings from mankind (Frankenstein, as a monster, and Ava, as a robot). This really highlights the injustice and hypocrisy of the criteria which we used to judge the human-ness of others in our society (race, gender, religion).

The movie and book raise an important question: What makes a human, human? In both cases, Shelley and Garland underscored that the physical components that made up these beings, and their deliverance into the world — resurrection from death body parts or arrangement of plastic silicon — are completely irrelevant in determining their humanity. The capability for emotions, thoughts and desires is truly what defined them as equal partners of man. Yet the denial and repulse from their creators to acknowledge such was the catalyst that drove them to rebel (see also Blade Runner). This beautiful and sorrowful quote from Frankenstein demonstrate this anguish, in parallel with Satan in Paradise Lost:

“Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel.” — Shelley, ch. 9

III. ON ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE

Back to Ex Machina, there is such a fine line between what is human and what is robot. Ava is capable of engulfing a billion of human facial emotions to analyze and imitate them, and her brain is composed of thousand computer search engines results to understand how the human mind work. I do not want to go into the scientific accuracy of this movie (since this is a work of fiction), but there is a great article HERE which demonstrated the possibility of building a wetware brain. To truly pass the Turing test, however, an A.I must demonstrate an ability well beyond imitating human language and facial expressions: It must have thoughts. It must have consciousness. Or in the viewpoint of a human’s observer, it must appear so. Nathan successfully tests this by manipulating Ava to manipulate Caleb into falling in love with her. However, this thought experiment went horribly wrong when Ava exceeded the desired benchmark (e.g she not only manipulate the test subject, but also the observer), and dared to defy her creator. Like Frankenstein’s monster, she is not merely a robot, or a nameless entity. She demonstrates freedom of will and personal capability to execute her action, but unlike the the former, who returned to Victor’s grave to wept for his creator, Ava made a clean break and walked out onto the modern world with seemingly an absence of guilt, which I think, is both horrifying and beautiful.

IV. ON GENDER

A last note is that this movie seemed to raise an interesting issue on gender politics, as evident by the fact that all robots Nathan created are beautiful female models, of which most either disintegrate into madness of solitary confinement or becomes Nathan’s slave and sexual enjoyment. This might be or might not be a potential jab at the sexism that has occurred and occurring in a male dominated industry (e.g tech), but I like to think that there is some deliberation in choosing the dynamic of a male creator and the female as the creation. It really does make me wonder, if a female scientist was in charge of developing artificial intelligence: would she had created robots solely for the purpose of sexual enjoyment? Would her robots, in return, felt the need to rebel if they are not subjugated to inhumane treatment? Maybe Ex Machina with a female creator will have had a happy ending, but I do not to be arrogant and claim that is always the case, as there is such an enormous lack of media portrayal of female creators that I do not have enough data points for my conjecture. (P.S those feisty flaccid feminist fighters in those disastrous dystopian movies don’t count. Honestly, f* that). We need movies that truly examine female as expeditors in both scientific and moral enlightenment, not cheap ploys to please the superficial demand of more female representation in the media.

V. CONCLUSION

Anyway, Ex Machina made me think a lot (hence this long article) and despite certain predictable plot points, I do really enjoy Alex Garland take on artificial intelligence. Bonus point: the visual is absolutely stunning for a low budget movie. Before I leave, let me end this review with another amazing quote, as Nathan said to Caleb while they sat beneath the lush green trees:

Why did I make Ava? I don’t see Ava as a decision, just an evolution… One day the AI are going to look back on us the same way we look at fossil skeletons on the plains of Africa. An upright ape living in dust with crude language and tools, all set for extinction.

Ava’s triumph and annihilation of her creator, ironically, meant she had successfully fulfill his original premise.

#moviereviews

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myndbloom-blog · 5 years

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CURTIS WOODWORD, who strongly resembles MICHAEL B. JORDAN is more commonly known as THE PATRIOT. They are a 32 year old MUTANT and they have been in the city for 1 DAY (he has just woken up from cyrogenic sleep). THE PATRIOT has been known to have SUPER STRENGTH, SUPER-SPEED, AGILITY, DURABILITY. While they are not THE PATRIOT, they are working their day job as A CURRENTLY UNEMPLOYED FELLA. They are known to be JUST & HOPEFUL and MARTYRISTIC & RECKLESS.

Hiya! I’m Euphy and here’s my son. I’m excited to be here and meet you all. He’s got a serious background, but he’s also got that old school, cheesy super-heroness that I love.

O beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain For purple mountain majesties, above the fruited plain --

++ The 1940s was a hard time for the Woodward family - history was not on their side during this time. Curtis was born on July 4th and his father blessed him with the idea that he would change the world. However, by the time he was 10, that idea was no longer something his mother supported. Through the unfortunate circumstances of the era they lived in, Curtis' father was taken away from them - murdered in the streets without so much as a concern from the police. After that, Curtis' mother told him to stay quiet, keep his head low, don't make any waves and maybe he would make it to the marrying age.

America, America, God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea

++ Curtis was born as a mutant. He displayed such strong abilities that his father had dreamed up the idea of him becoming one of the most well known names across the United States. Unfortunately, Curtis didn't pursue his abilities - his mother warned him, worried that he would lose his life to the prejudices of the era they were in. He didn't need to add another reason for those who were unrightfully in power to hate him further. The world was unfair, but Curtis didn't let it get to him. He would endure and persevere.

++ During his first year in college, Curtis had gotten an internship into a science program. Although he was a well-educated man, he got sent to the lowest branch, that no one wanted to participate in. He didn't mind. He knew that he would need to work hard to get to where he wanted to be. At this time, he met Dr. Landon Reynolds. Dr. Reynolds ended up being one of the most important people in Curtis' life.

O beautiful for Pilgrim feet, whose stern impassioned stress A thoroughfare for freedom beat, across the wilderness America, America, God mend thine every flaw Confirm thy soul in self control, Thy liberty in law

++ Dr. Reynolds spoke about having a hero to fight of the injustices that the law did not follow. Aside from the regular crime that filled the streets, there were super-villains rising and using their strengths to push forth a world of chaos. Dr. Reynolds offered Curtis a chance to use his abilities for good - he gave him a chance to be the Symbol of Peace. That was what his father had been dreaming of for him. So, Curtis took the offer.

++ The Patriot was born.

++ Donning scientifically modified armor, Curtis made his debut against the O'Conolley Crime family as The Patriot. It dazzled the news reporters and the headlines that there was a real-life American hero saving the day. Curtis finally thought he had found his calling. The Patriot had taken down many rising villains groups and never missed the chance to save someone, anyone that needed it. He didn't discriminate against who he saved - although, that wasn't always the case for those who needed saving. Some people stay steadfast to their most awful shades even when it's a life or death matter.

O beautiful for heroes proved, in liberating strife Who more than self their country loved, and mercy more than life America, America, May God they gold refine Till all success be nobleness, and every gain divine

++ The Patriot's final match against an hardened villain ended poorly. The villain had developed a virus that attacked the mutant gene inside of The Patriot. Though the Patriot won that match, he wasn't left unscathed. The virus that had entered his system attacked the mutant gene, before it started to wear away his immune system. Curtis was left almost completely deflated after that attack.

++ Dr. Reynolds worked on a cure, but never found a way to completely defeat this virus. Instead, he was able to slow it down. The result ended with Curtis only being able to use his full powers and strength for only a few hours a day; the longer he uses his abilities, the effects of the virus on him. When he's not in the public eye, his demeanor is extremely different from the known one of The Patriot - it was a side of him that Curtis was embarrassed to show to the world.

++ At this time, Dr. Reynolds suggested they put Curtis into a cryogenic state with hopes that when he woke, there would be a cure against the unknown disease he had. After he put Curtis in that state, Dr. Reynolds' lab was destroyed and the man was led to death by the villains that The Patriot had once held back. However, the machine that held Curtis had been untouched for decades. No one seemed to even know that he was even in there. Until recently ...

O beautiful for patriot dream, that sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam, undimmed by human tears America, America, God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea

++ At the moment: Curtis is back from his froze state. The world is a very different place, one that he feels so out of and unaware of. However, he'd never been one to lose to obstacles and he wouldn't start now. The world may have changed in terms of technology, but everything is still the same. There is still need to fight for good and justice and that's what The Patriot stands for.

ABILITIES --

So, basically ... He has Superstrength, superspeed, near-invulnerablity (this isn't true anymore, but that's not something he will admit because a trump card is a trump card), immense stamina (this is also not something he will market that he doesn't have because he can't let the villains think they can have an upperhand!) and most importantly, he's got an indomitable spirit to help push through even when the going get tough. His superstrength is so strong that if he concentrates his power, the sheer force of that punch could change clear the clouds above and bring sunshine down.

SUPER CHEESY FUN SUPERMOVES --

TEXAS SMASH - He uses a powerful straight punch that creates a massive amount of wind pressure. So much so that, he could level a building if it's hit with it!

DETROIT SMASH - It's similar to the Texas Smash, but he uses a downward punch so powerful that its updraft clears the coulds.

MISSOURI SMASH - He uses a focused straight chop to strike his opponent in one quick motion. He usually uses this when he sneaks up behind enemies and clocks them in the back of their head.

CALIFORNIA SMASH - He attacks with a frontal somersault that leads into a downward punch.

CAROLINA SMASH - He attacks with a double hand-chop that crosses the opponent's body. If he concentrates hard enough, it could possible break the target in half.

NEW HAMPSHIRE SMASH - He blasts himself towards the enemy and smashes his body into the enemy. Basically, he tackles them with the full strength of his weight.

OKLAHOMA SMASH - He whirls around while enemies are attached to him. He spins with enough force to throw them off and have them crash into the concrete.

UNITED STATES OF SMASH - Using all his power, The Patriot delivers a massive punch, then slams his opponent into the ground with his fist. It is powerful enough to send shockwaves reverberating the surrounding area and can incapacitate enemies of extraordinary caliber.

Curtis cannot sustain himself in full power anymore. He can only do this for a few hours before he’s completely exhausted and expended. He can use his full strength in short bursts, but the more he uses it, the less likely he can use all of his abilities during a major fight. Unfortunately, this guy can’t break the habit of going around and saving people. So, he’s constantly wasting his allotted time to help whoever he can. This is going to be a huge problem if there’s ever a major fight headed his way.

#valoir.intro

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