#haunted object disposal

[fictionalslvr]

SYNOPSIS: Leon is the most devoted young man you know, and what you always wanted, is to ruin ruin, turn him into a complete sinful mess. And finally, you got that.

PAIRING: Churchboy¡Leon x implied F!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.110k

WARNINGS: CORRUPTION KINK MAJOR! Religious themes!! Sub and whiny¡Leon. Handjob. Descriptions of male anatomy. On the church.

NOTES: After weeks, getting sick and everything, the part two is finally here! This work can be read alone, but there is a part one if you want to see. This was only possible due to the dear @navstuffs! She helped me a lot and she deserves all the thanks for this, thank you Nav!

At the beginning of the world, it was only good things. The literal Eden Garden at dispose, offering just the best of the fruits, the nature in contact with the skin, everything was pure. Until it wasn’t anymore. Leon always thought about how perfect the life could be before the sin, before the luxury of the human beings, in fact, his mind was driven into those thoughts, not fully understanding what could made Eve tempt and change the whole world to the way he know now, he did not understood how she could replace a life of trust, love and literal heaven, in trade with what? A miserable life forever. Maybe it was the idea of being forbidden that got her so allured. The rule was simple, not to eat the apple, and was that’s what got her so ecstatic, Eve could have everything around her, but that fruit was calling her, whispering her name in the most blissful winds ever created, the alluring idea of something being restricted by God himself, called her up on her mind. What could be so different about that fruit? Why was she so special that even God didn’t want to let them have contact with her?

Leon couldn’t understand the meaning behind that forbidden fruit, for him, it was just an easy task to follow his creator's order. Anyway, he didn’t want to face his choleric state, nor to lose all his privileges after creation as the first God miracle, the man. That is until, you appeared on his mind, occupying the only space being used to drive him withered.

Soon, the fruit was replaced, not just a simple apple anymore, but you. You, and that voluptuous body, cute giggle and face builded by an angel, he could appreciate you for hours, if this wasn’t wrong, he didn’t want to be sinful. But just as Eve, your mischievous smile and alluring voice called for him, whispering his name in the depth of the world to keep him distracted from his initial objective, which was to serve his God, you were the luxury itself, right in front of him. There was no apple, just you, that deep into your mind, craved for Leon, and he, just wanted a bite of that pleasure, for being a sinful human as the others too, to see why humans fail so much, you were the perfect representation of a sin to him, the kind of woman that makes him fall on his knees and ask for his forgiveness, that wasn’t his normal state, it can’t be. Leon never saw himself so deprived, so perverted and sick like that.

From days now, you’ll be haunting his mind with unholy thoughts. Leon was in a dangerous line because of you, either ready to fall directly into a painful post life, with no way back, right into the hell for being such a pervert for you, or, resisting to the forbidden fruit and achieving a life of miracles to the end. Poor young man would wake up with a flustered rosy face, sweaty forehead, heavy breathing and surroundings still confused. He could swear you were in his dream, not in a good way at all. He would jump off of the bed, getting on his knees to the floor, hands gripping in each other to make it up for his sinful thoughts, mumbling his sorrows and asking for God help to “return him to his normal”, which never changed, he was always there, waiting patiently to give in and taste the sweet melody of the intimacy between such a thing as sex, but that was restricted due to the fear of a miserable hell. Leon felt filthy, the most dirty man walking on Earth, wearing an catholic third around his neck, gripping into it as his life depends of that, mumbling the God name as he could felt that weird sensation next to his crotch growing more and more painful, he didn’t knew what that is, but it hurt, it felt wrong. Plastered tears glued on his cheeks, he felt so false, so wrong and yet, so good.

“Oh my Jesus, forgive us for our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls into heaven, especially those in the most need of your mercy. Amen.” The words felt so blank, so empty and for the first time, Leon felt like there was no salvation in his actions.

He’s sure that God is looking down at him, thinking that his child is lost, already too wrapped by the Devil’s hands. He would be laughing at him, seeing how pathetic he is, the image he once had for his religion is ruined. He is ruined. Slowly becoming the nasty sinner in his own eyes, there’s nothing that could save him anymore. With his mind slowly descending, he knew that you were the cause of this, you were his luxury, his apple and he was Eve in a kind of way, now, he understand her, he gets that feeling, that he want to have a taste of something forbidden, to know what life truly feels like.

Even though he’s becoming a sinner, his heavy footsteps were echoing through the hallways, the devil himself walking into the church to play pretend with his subordinates sinners, he had a head towards the ground, ashamed for his thoughts, not wanting to face the consequences for that. With another preaching coming closer, he was ready to watch it, with his conscience heavy and heartbeat unusual. But a half closed door got his attention, the before innocent eyes widened as he was more curious than ever before, peeking through the door, what Leon found got his knees weak.

He remembered when he was young, he looked deeply into the priest eyes and did an promise, “not to fall in temptation”, he knew all the words correctly, the way his eyes lit up in that powerful presence of God, how he felt protected from all the dangers of the world for a fraction of second. But the danger is not carrying a weapon, the danger it’s the damn weapon, disguised as a woman, you. Under the dim light of the room, your soft silk dress slowly falling from your shoulders, he could swear your skin glistened with the sun, like you’re shining. The texture of your skin must be the most perfect skin to touch in his mind, it seems so delicate and smooth, not to mention the sweet scent of your body, the natural scent is enough to drive into the most unhinged person ever. Leon was flabbergasted, his jaw open as he almost drooled over the sight, he knows he shouldn’t be watching you change to the preaching, nor even be desiring you like a dog in heat in search for an mate, a gasp escape from his throat, forcing him to put his hands on top of his mouth to shut him off. A faint sound could be heard by you, the creaky floor behind the half open door, plus, a very low gasp being muffled. With only your white bustier and suspender belt, your head turned towards the door, and you saw a dirty blond hair swung in the air, hiding behind it, and that made you bite your cheeks from inside, holding a giggle, you could recognize him anywhere, silly Leon.

Acknowledged of his presence, you decided to put on a show for him. Playing with the straps of your bustier, letting it loose on your shoulders to show him what he’s losing. At this point, you couldn’t imagine you caught him sneaking on you changing, something might've changed on that angel to turn him into that. The teasing only proved your point, you could hear the tender sound of his desperate voice he sounded like a puppy whining, incapable to hold the instincts of seeing something so attractive for the first time, hands squeezed together and eyes in awe as he let out faint heavy breaths.

—”Come here, Leon.” He felt dizzy immediately. You saw him, you caught him red handed while spying you.

Looking like an abandoned dog, eyes on the floor, hands behind his back and short footsteps, he got inside, closing the door with your instruction. He couldn’t look at you, how could he look at you while you wear something so profane as this outfit you’re wearing right now? But he was already looking anyway, this wouldn’t make any difference, he just likes to pretend he was not doing something so wrong like that. Not the innocent Leon, he couldn’t commit his first sin with you, no way.

—”You know that spying is not a good thing, right?” Your feet on the ground made a stomp sound, indicating you were getting closer to him.

With his eyes hidden by his bangs, this was a bad situation that he chose to be into. He bit his lower lip, a wave of guilt all over his body and made him feel even more weaker. Leon nodded with his head, not even able to whisper a single word for you, just to show how embarrassed he is. The embarrassment was not only because he got caught, but of what his image will turn after this, what you will do to him. Your hot aura was invading his space and making him nervous, so much that he trembled like a leaf.

—”I asked you a question.” Your tone got a bit more stern, and you heard Leon suck a sob in between his little crooked teeths. You loved how he was not perfect at all, he was not going to stay forever innocent, you knew that, but you wanted to be the reason behind that. Leon is a grown man, he can make decisions for himself and answer a simple question.

—”Y-Yes! I…I know.”

Pressing him against the closet cabinet, he let out a gasp escape again. Your hands were behind him, dangerously close to touching his body in a way never before. Leon eyes dragged to yours, locking to see that flame in your pupils that he feared to face for so long.

—”You look so desperate, like you never saw a body before.”

—”I-I…never…” The words slipped out from his tongue, he didn’t have any control on his actions nor words at the moment, he was only listening to you and watching you. Your ferocious desire was filling his senses too, tormenting his poor mind. You only chuckled from his words gently, but he felt offended.

He must look so pathetic close to you, you must have plenty of experience and he…he had never seen his own body before, for him, it was wrong to see his own body, he believed that this would make him some kind of sinner. But seeing you, so alluring and bashing your eyelashes so innocently like a doll.

—”Haven't you ever seen a naked body before?”

The silence was his answer, he looked away bashfully, scared to admit the truth. Scared to look silly in front of you, to make a fool of himself. The look on his face said everything, and by the way he’s fidgeting his fingers anxiously, you didn’t need a proper answer. You understood, pressing your almost bare body against his just to hear him gulp audible, the thing was, you could feel a pent up dick hitting your inner thigh, he was so hard from just seeing your body this way, you wonder how he could be so sensitive this way. Just getting closer, made his whole face flushed.

—”You’re so hard already, Leon.” You snickered, looking down to watch his cock stir on his pants, underneath your skin. His eyes were wide open, he looked down with you, confused, tilting his head to the side like a puppy.

—”Hard? Is this what is hurting me?”

—”Hurting you? I’m guessing you never touched your body before to not know this is a boner.” Leon bit his lips again, this time humming in desperation and his hands were supported on the cabinet behind him.

—”Explain to me, please.”

You were surprised. He never really touched himself before? That would be even better than you thought. With a tender sigh, your hands hovered over his chest, slowlying pestering all the way down to his hips.

—”It’s hard to explain, but I can help you to get rid of the…pain, as you say.”

His eyes lit up, Leon whimpered at the touch of your hands on him, the first touch like this on his, the very first one, is yours. Just like you did in his dreams, but you were like a devil cornering him, wrapping him in your claws. At the feel of his cock twitching in his pants, he needed to get rid of that sensation, it was weird, so he nodded at your offer, agreeing to being ruined forever.

The next thing Leon knew, is that he was embraced by you fully this time. His rear resting on the low closet cabinet, his hands were roaming over your tender shoulders, searching for any support not to fall on his knees in front of you. Leon was ruined, there was no turning back from now on, not when his throat let the most obscene sounds your ears could be graced with, whiny soft pants making him look pathetic and adorable at the same time, the mix of feelings messing up with his mind and turning him into this. The way your hands were exploring his body so indecently for the first time is awkward, and yet, brings him to the edge of a just discovered emotion.

Your hands felt all over his body, exploring every inch as that was your last chance to show him the sin you could be. In fact, that could be a one lifetime opportunity, and you needed to get him addicted to make sure he would crawl back to you, begging for more of that thing only you can bring him to. With the way you looked, your eyes felt sore, like you just saw a golden flash in them so abruptly, that was, seeing Leon's dick for the first time. It was…cute, but desirable, that's for sure. The reddened tip looked untouched as the rest of his body, he was not thick, but he was considerably lengthy, you felt the urge to kiss it, tuck him inside your mouth, push him to the back of your throat and send him to heaven early as he wanted, but not in a glorious way. Leon couldn't even look into your face anymore, everything was blurry, but every single touch got him shivering, anyway, he agreed to that, and regret is not a word that could describe how he was right now. Deciding to have some pity on the man and take things slow to be just a bit passionate once, your hands pestered all the way down to finally touch his cock, watching as it stirred into your hands so adorably.

Leon's whimpers were everything you could ask for, he hid his face on the crook of your neck, nibbling your skin ever so gracefully to try to shut him, but he was loud, VERY loud. It was his first time being touched, you couldn't blame him. You started to touch his length, going up and down as you felt his hips jerking forward into you, showing that he wanted (needed) more. Turning your hands into a cupping one, you started to masturbate him at your own pace, taking his time as you heard his reactions, if you got quicker, he could get so much louder than before.

—”You don't want the whole church to hear us now, do you?” Your voice didn't need to get loud for him to listen, the distance was enough for a whisper in his ear that made him moan.

He knew it was wrong, and that anyone could hear him moaning like a bitch in heat for you, but he couldn't care less now. He had lost his innocence and faith, there's nothing else to lose. And yet, he kept his tone loud, he couldn't lower them in any way, everything felt so overstimulating that he felt like he was going to explode at any time.

Leon was trembling in your arms, you could see how he was holding onto you, crying, mumbling something incoherent as the same time your shoulders felt wet. A mixture of tears and saliva that escaped from his inside cheeks. You kept teasing him, some times, pressing his tip until you heard him whining and his trimmed nails pressed against you, marking you so slightly it wouldn't last long. His legs were wide open for you, and yet, he was almost closing them, if it wasn't for your body in the middle of them, the proximity allowed your breath to hit on his face, and you, to see his godly constructed face contorted in pleasure for you, everything you asked for.

Since he was a beginner at this kind of situation, he wouldn't last long, you knew that. Just a few pumps were enough to drive him crazy. As soon as his arms involved your back, his teeths into your shoulders and his moans got even more whiny (which you didn't think was possible), you knew he was close to cummming. Leon's hands tapped your back, he was mumbling and mumbling something non stop, and it took you a few seconds to understand

—”W-What….what is this?! I feel like…I'm…going to burst! Please!” His pleas were adorable, he didn't know what was coming, but he was begging for it.

—”It's completely normal, Leon…”

You soothed him, a gentle moment that kept you moving around his overwhelmed dick until he was fumbling and hyperventilating, he was a mess of heavy breaths, whimpers, grunts and every sound possible he could muster at the moment.

It didn't take long to see Leon's soul escaping from his body. His eyes were as wide as possible, the blue orb in the middle almost submerged on that white ocean of his eyes. Leon gripped into you, his legs failing for the first time, his toes curling up together and his head thrown back as he moaned in a strangle of breath. That's until the long ropes of cum made contact with your hands, escaping to drip on the cabinet wood underneath him. Took him long enough to stop seeing stars, his eyes drizzled off to somewhere distant until he could finally look into yours, to see your big grin and blush like a silly.

—”I…is it wrong to…ask for more?”

#fanfic #fictionalslvr #smut #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x fem reader #leon x reader #leon x you #leon kennedy smut #leon smut #sub leon kennedy

[thefirstknife]

I think it was really fitting that Calus, who has been obsessed with chasing grandeur (or at least the illusion of it) should have such an inglorious death, and yet in death he was somehow more impressive than in life.

Absolutely same. Calus is a fascinating character who was really an utter loser his whole life, but due to extraordinary circumstances, achieved such power and status. Deeply recommending Caiatl's portion of the Lightfall Collector's Edition book, as that really goes in depth about Calus before he became the guy we know now. And if you can stomach it, The Chronicon, which details a sharp shift in Calus' behaviour after he met the Black Fleet and the Witness, which worried even his closest advisors.

Now that we have his end, the full scope of his life is incredibly fascinating. A guy who kept chasing pleasure, easy life, hedonism and luxury ended being a tool to a higher being he pledged himself to, thinking that this higher power would see him as an equal and grant him everything he seeks.

One of my favourite visual cues in Lightfall's cinematics with Calus is the focus on his empty chalice. The first thing he does as he emerges from the Disicplenator cube, is take an object and turn it into a chalice. He walks forward, looking at the chalice and then at Tormentors by his side, trying to arouse some sort of celebration or cheering. But he is met with silence and an empty chalice.

He keeps looking at the chalice as if expecting it to be filled. Expecting his newfound power to give him all the pleasure and hedonism he sought, so he could party and celebrate until the end of the universe when he would become the last thing alive, as per his wishes expressed in the Chronicon.

But it stays empty. No matter how many times he looks and waits, it's empty. His throne is lavish and gold, he controls an army in service of the most powerful being in the universe, he has everything at his disposal, but the throne room is silent and his cup empty. No celebrations, no cheering, no party, no lavish dinners, no friends, no advisors, no servants.

There is nothing in service to the Witness. You are nothing to the Witness. You are an empty shell with no choices or wishes or belongings or friends. It's an empty life, devoid of meaning and joy. Calus' chalice would never have been filled as long as he served. He would never have a celebration or cheers or friends ever again.

You can see how he gets mad when the Witness suggests that he failed. How can he fail when he is doing everything required of him and has been doing so for untold centuries? And never gets anything in return? After the Witness beats him into submission again, the first thing he does is crush the empty chalice he's been gripping so tightly and throws it away. The illusion of grandeur shattered. He realises it won't fill and that he will not have anything and he dedicates himself fully to the Witness. Anything else and he will be destroyed.

And even at the end, he still swears on the Witness for power and importance. In the final fight, he still yells at us "I am a disciple!" as if he's trying to convince himself more than us. And he dies alone, hated and despised by everyone that ever knew him and abandoned by the Witness he swore his life to long before Lightfall and long before our fight at the end of Haunted and long before the Leviathan raid.

He swore himself to the Witness at the Black Edge, at the end of the universe, where he was sent to die in exile. Everything he did from that point onward was for the Witness. And it abandoned him in the blink of an eye. He died with his chalice empty, chasing the promise that it would be full forever. He could've had that had he been a better person, a better father, a better husband, a better emperor. But instead he chose a path that led to emptiness and nothingness and he has no one to blame but himself. A fitting end for one such as he.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #lightfall #lightfall spoilers #calus #long post #ask #THE EMPTY CHALICE MOTIF WAS LIKE. MAN. every time he appears #such a good visual pointer to his whole fate #and to the fate of being a disciple in a way he chose it

[bitter-bats-cult-of-the-moon]

Ways To Protect Yourself – Banish Negative Energies and Entities

Cleansing: This is mainly for weaker negative entities and energies. Do something you think will actually work for you and your situation. Keep it simple and use salt or smoke to cleanse your spaces. Simple protection spells also serve as a solution in these scenarios. Creating and tailoring your own spells will make things more effective and overall efficient.

Traps and Binds: There are many different ways to bind and trap spirits and entities depending on the culture things originate from. Many of these methods involve using specific symbols or objects.

Fire Rose Thorn Spell Jar

Ingredient List

  – Salt water - 1 part Sea salt to 8 parts of spring water.

  – 1 dried Rose 13 Rose Thorns

  – 1 Small Glass Jar + a tightly fitting lid

  – 1 teaspoon cinnamon powder

  – 1 teaspoon honey

  – 5 hardware nails

Instructions

Put the Rose Thorns into the jar one at a time focusing on the intent desired; in this case driving negative entities and spirits away.

Crush up the Thorns in the jar.

Crush up the Rose petals and add them to the jar.

Slowly add the Saltwater.

Add the cinnamon powder, honey, and nails one by one.

Keep the jar open overnight.

The next morning before the sunrise close the lid.

Cover the jar with a cloth and dispose of it away from the house.

Holy Water

Christians use water that has been blessed by a church official. Wiccans use water blessed by their coven leader. Wet your fingers with the blessed water and run them along the thresholds for protection.

Banishing Rituals

Different rituals exist, but a simple way to perform a banishing ritual is to write down the problem on a piece of paper, being specific as possible. After deeply focusing on the problem written down on the piece of paper, burn it. Cleanse it with fire.

Objects of Protection

Herbs: Sage, Acacia, Angelica, Aloe, Amber, Bay leaf, Betel nut, Carnation, Lavender, Peat moss, Peony, Radish, and Yew.

Crystals: Agate, Amber, Calcite, Citrine, Jade, Jasper, Malachite, Moonstone, Onyx, Tiger’s eye, Tourmaline, Obsidian, and Topaz.

Counting Remedies

Many people feel that bad spirits must perform certain tasks when faced with them. One of these tasks is the activity of counting individual grains. 

Having a great many of them in one space and the inability to pick them up as they go, the spirit gets frustrated with having to start repeatedly and will soon leave your house.

Merely spill the grains of your choice in the haunted room, preferably the doorway every night and clean up in the morning. 

Black Salt

Ingredient List

  – 1 cup of Sea Salt

  – Ashes From Incense

  – 2 Crushed Eggshells

  – 2 teaspoons Black Pepper

  – 1 Bag or Jar

Instructions

Finely crush eggshells.

Add sea salt, ashes, and pepper blending them together.

Put contents into a jar or bag for safe keeping.

Sprinkle black salt upon the thresholds for protection.

Keep near the bed to ward away nightmares.

Witches Bells

Bells are hung from the door handle or near the thresholds to protect your home, and ward off harm, negativity, and bad spirits. Any type of bell will do. Some practitioners even have a collection of bells.

#energy work #baby witch #beginner witch #pagan #pagan witch #witch #witch community #witch tips #witchblr #witchcraft #spellwork #spells #witchery #witches #witchythings #magick #witches of tumblr #pagan stuff #paganism #paganblr #pagan blog #spellcraft #spell work #spellcasting #ritual #metaphysical #metaphysics #energy manipulation #spiritual #spiritual knowledge

[fatehbaz]

In the ruins, ‘master narratives of history as progress decompose into the tense confabulations of a continuously remembered past that hits the present like a nervous shock’ [...]. The ghosts of this past rear up in the ruin, they are the debris of unprecedented material destruction [...] ‘the “trash” of history’ [...]. Forgetting this carnage [would be to support] the myth of [...] progress [...]. But the ruins remember [...], revealing the fragility of the social order. [...] Hauntings rupture linear temporality, inconveniently bring forth energies, which have supposedly been extinguished and forgotten. [...] Cities [and places, generally] seem to becoming increasingly regulated. In the transformation towards a service economy during the 1980s [in Britain], [...] [o]ld industrial sites were turned into shopping centres, retails parks and leisure sites. [...] There is then, in the drive to market places, [...] an aesthetic imperative to smooth over the cracks [...], and to fix the past, so that it does not intrude into an imagined linear future. [...] In cahoots with [...] marketeers, they suggest that the past is a distant, romantic echo that resounds faintly in museums [...]. Yet the ruins shout back at the refurbished urban text. [...] [T]hey haunt the city, for the unofficial past cannot be exorcised [...]. Ruins are sites where we can construct alternative stories to decentre commodified, official [...] descriptions, and [...] keep the past opened [...]. Counter-memories can be articulated in ruins, narratives that talk back to the smoothing over of difference. Away from the commercial and bureaucratic spaces of the city, ghosts proliferate where order diminishes. Ruins are [...] especially important, because [...] it is ‘essential to see the things and the people who are primarily unseen and banished to the periphery of our social graciousness.’

Text above by: Tim Edensor. “Haunting in the ruins: matter and immateriality.” Space and Culture Issue 11, pages 42-50. January 2002. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

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-

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[T]he contemporary Western city [...] [is] the site of [...] regulatory regimes concerned with strategies of surveillance and aesthetic monitoring [...]. The modern city can never become a wholly Appollonian, seamlessly regulated realm for it continues to be haunted by the neglected, the disposed of, and the repressed [...]. Within the interstices of the city there are a host of other spaces, part of a “wild zone”, a “[…] site […] which avoids the objective processes of ordered territorialisation […]”.

Staged […] through the intensified mediatisation and commodification of popular sites, myths, and icons […], mediated imaginary geographies circulate through adverts, soap operas, ‘classic’ rock stations [...] typically drenched in […] ideologies. […] These exhibitions memorialise culture via ‘publicly sanctioned narratives’ and institutionalised rhetoric [...]. [I]n which people are encoded and contextualied, categorised and narrated.

Accordingly, ruins are places from which other memories can be articulated, from which “the things and the people who are primarily unseen and banished to the periphery of our social graciousness” [...] may be encountered. [...]

[T]he outmoded object can become charged [...] with a certain power, and "might spark a brief profane illumination of a past productive mode, social formation, and structure of feeling -- an uncanny return of a historically repressed moment" [...]. Thus we might stumble across seemingly archaic decor or furniture, [...] toys, and mascots of yesteryear [...], the debris of discarded fashions [...]. Although such objects [may] seem [...] absurd or comical, they may bring back knowledge, tastes, and sensations [...]. This was debris which was enfolded into the mundaneity of a shared everyday [...].

Along with other places on the margins of regulated space, industrial ruins are “points of transition, passages [...], moments of magic that exist at the interstices of modernity” […]. Modern attempts to cleanse, banish ambiguity, and order the memory of space are always disturbed by such disorderly spaces and by the ghosts they contain, who refuse to rest quietly, [...] a “spectral [...] residue“ which haunts dominant ways of seeing and being [...].

In contradistinction to the fixed memories [...] and to the imaginary linearities proposed by hegemonic […] memories, these ghosts foreground ambiguity, polysemy, and multiplicity, enabling us to “disrupt the signifying chains of legitimacy [...].” Although it is often overcoded and regulated, the city nevertheless contains multitudinous scraps from which alternative stories might be assembled. […] In spaces such as industrial ruins, the excessive debris confronted constitutes material for multiple modes of narration about the past: “the debris of shipwrecked histories still today raise up the ruins of an unknown, strange city. They burst forth within the modernist, massive, homogenous city like slips of the tongue from an unknown, perhaps unconscious, language” [...].

This kind of remembering implies an ethics about confronting and understanding otherness (here, the alterity of the past) which is tactile, imaginative […].

---

Text by: Tim Edensor. “The ghosts of industrial ruins: ordering and disordering memory in excessive space.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space Volume 23, pages 829-849. 2005. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

#halloween #i guess idk #abolition #ecology #haunted #imperial #colonial

[natasha-in-space]

To me, Rika's relationship with Saeran is one of the most tragic aspects of her story. Even bigger than her complicated feelings towards V, her Mint Eye ideology, or her inner longing to be loved and cared for. It's the ironic tragedy of it. In my opinion, it most blatantly depicts her descent into her violent and ruthless ways, and how it slowly went from something good to nothing but pain and misery.

She went from seeing her past self in that small and scared boy, wanting nothing more than to give him all the love and happiness she couldn't receive as a child, to barely even treating him as a human being. Sometimes I wonder, if Rika could get a glance into her own future, back when she has just taken small Saeran under her wing, back when she hadn't yet sullied her hands with his mother's blood... What if she could see the way she would eventually end up treating Unknown. As nothing but a disposable object to leave behind and abandon the second he does not meet her indifferent expectations of him. Not a sliver of warmth of affection towards him in her cold eyes. Or how she would end up forcing Ray to work and work, and work, until he can't even sit up straight, how she would forcefully keep him away from such basic needs as food and water. Or how she would thrive in Suit Saeran's self-destruction, simply because it benefits her goals, despite him hurting so very deeply and so suffocatingly on the inside.

What would her reaction be? Looking down at the redheaded boy she genuinely wants to love and protect, and knowing just what horrible things he would go through because of her?

I truly think that she loved Saeran genuinely at that time. How could she not? When those dull eyes of his were so reminiscent of the emptiness she has faced as a small, helpless child with nobody there to hold her, or to tell her that she is good, and she is loved. Her only desire was to make him smile. To give him something she was never given by the adults around her

But, how are you supposed to make someone happy, when you took away something as precious as a mother from them?

In my opinion, her accidental murder of the twins' mother was the beginning of the end of their relationship. Once that event has happened, there is no healthy framework for them to follow from then on. Not when she never confronts that action of hers. She doesn't get any closure, nor does she heal from the trauma of it. She keeps it all hidden, stashed away like a dirty secret to take to her grave. Only V knows about her crime. She can't confess to it to her therapist, and she certainly can't say anything about it to anyone else.

Her never confronting, never working through it eats away at her slowly, and it'll continue to do so.

And we know that this particular event has stuck with her throughout her life. She is haunted by it. In a way that forever alters her relationship with Saeran, and how she perceives herself in relation to him. She has always wanted to take on a more parental, motherly figure in his life, but it isn't until his mother's death, does she openly expresses her desire to be a full on mother to him.

Except, this time, it doesn't come from a genuine place of love and care for this boy. An innocent desire to make him smile. It's her guilt. It's her inner feelings of shame and disgust at what she has done, and her immediate desire to take that pain away from him. It's her inner guilt at the fact that those tears of his, as he breaks down from the realization that now even his mother has left him, are her fault. She took his mother away from him with her own two bloodied hands. And she's the reason he's suffering now.

As a result, she turns her trauma and guilt into action.

It is evident to us, that Saeran did not think of Rika as his mother or V as his father. Rika forced him to follow this role model, especially so after he was initiated into Mind Eye. And we know he kept a lot of things inside, even as he lived with them. Much like he kept a lot of things from Saeyoung to not upset him, like his pessimism towards the idea of surviving to adulthood. Saeran was always a child who showed compassion and empathy. I believe that his empathy is the reason why he didn't speak up about it. Subconsciously, he felt that Rika needed this, despite him not really understanding why. So, he went along with it. He was already receiving so much support from her and V, it's the smallest thing he could do for her.

The scene of Saeran's cleansing (or initiation, as they are technically two different ceremonies with different purposes, but I digress) is heartbreaking to witness. The scene is both grisly and violent, making it extremely difficult to watch. And, from Saeran's diary, we know that it happens after a while of horrible and definitely traumatic experiences for him. It's the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak.

But what always hurts me the most is Rika's attitude towards it. There is no malice, anger, or resentment in her voice. She is concerned, she is upset, and then, she is happy. She's not upset because Saeran is suffering from the violent actions she herself has inflicted upon him, no. Instead, she recontextualizes that pain he goes through as something that she is actively saving him from. She completely loses herself in the false assumption that Saeran is just like her.

She openly says so.

You are like me. We are the same. Therefore, I am saving you, in a way nobody saved me. I am saving you from the pain I know you are going through, because I hurt the same way.

And, in a way, I believe it is yet another, far more darker and horrifying expression of her guilt. She is desperate to cleanse him. She openly snaps at the believers to hurry up, because she needs to save him. It's not a want. It's a need. In a way, I think that's her way of atoning for the sin of taking his mother away from him. As, once he is fully cleansed, she takes that pain away from him. Even if she doesn't say it, her actions and behavior reveal everything you need to know.

It's okay now. Now I am your mother. You don't have to grieve anymore. You'll be safe with me, and you'll never feel that pain again.

Isn't it ironic that, over time, she treats him almost as horribly as his mother had treated him? She starves Ray, punishes him for making the slightest of mistakes, threatens him into being terrified of the outside world.

All the traumatic experiences he had as a child.

Even down to locking him up in a dark and cold place.

Rika's relationship with Saeran reveals how she has become the same cruel monster she swore to fight against. It's not easy to think about. Buy, God, is it interesting to pick apart.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #rika kim #kim rika #mystic messenger rika #i could write so so so much more on this but i feel like that would be too long to read... ugh #rika is such a compelling antagonist to me #how you can pick apart her descent into what she has become piece by piece

[eye-of-yelough]

Being into dehumanisation but in more of an inanimate object way than a petplay way kinda suuucks ngl like NO Aeryn is not Gortash’s attack dog, he’s his favourite haunted doll!!! He’s Gortash’s dagger and also the cloth he uses to clean the dagger and also the stone he sharpens it with. His puppet. His block of marble waiting to be turned into a statue (it’s a self portrait), His Artificial Intelligence, his executioner’s axe, his biomechanical plaything, his coin operated boy, his disposable darling that he just can’t throw away. And, most damning of all, his actual heart.

#i’m sorry but gortash being utterly sincerely convinced that it’s HIS heart between Aeryn’s ribs is driving me crazy. #still. #sorry to everyone ever but dogs are so boring to me. if aeryn is gortash’s pet anything it’s monster. his alien. his pet demigod. #and yes coin operated boy by the dresden dolls HAS made its way onto the gortae playlist. heart <3 #your daily dose of idiocy #aeryn and gortash #gortash #durgetash #gortae sci fi au

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Two

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Language, Psychological Trauma, Electroshock Therapy Gone Wrong (In The Real World You Are Fully Anesthetized), Flashbacks.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later).

Word Count: ~2.6k

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“I cannot believe you are actually doing this,” Jemima sighed from where she lounged on your bed as you carefully packed away your belongings. ��I mean, you handed in your two weeks' notice! This is not just visiting, Y/N, you are full-on bloody moving to Wych Cross. When I said to visit Paul and Alex, I didn’t mean for you to bloody quit your job and bloody move in with them!”

“I don’t think you’ve said bloody enough, Jemima,” You drawled out, glancing at her. “One more for good measure?” 

“Bloody hell, Y/N! I’m serious!”

“So am I!” You retorted, flaring your fingers from where they gripped a packing bin. “Face it Jem, my parents didn’t fix me, they only found a place to shove all of my fears and dreams in, close and lock the door, and dispose of the key. I’ve never dealt with it, just medicated myself so I didn’t have the thinking capacity to deal with it.” 

You stared at each other, not breaking eye contact until Jemima heaved out a sigh and her face morphed into one of concern. 

“I’m worried about you, Y/N/N, you’ve been off since that night at the club. What happened?” You dropped your head and stared at the packed, wrapped objects from your room, pursing your lips. You wanted to tell her everything. She was your best friend and you told each other everything. But this, this wasn’t something you could talk to her about. You didn’t want her to think you were going crazy, you didn’t want anyone to think you were going crazy. You had been in that situation as a child, and you did not want to be subjected to the same treatment as you had in the past. Haunted by silver blue eyes in both your dreams and waking hours, you were determined to go to Wych Cross and get your answers. 

“This is something I need to do myself, Jemima, and I love you, but I can’t do this with help.” You could tell Jemima wanted to argue with you, but thankfully she remained silent on that matter. 

“What are you going to do about your finances, Y/N, you’ve quit your job.” You snorted at that.

“I’m Paul and Alex’s only grandchild and they smother me with gifts and love. I’m set to inherit the manor and they’re loaded, I’m not going to be in financial trouble any time soon, Jemima.” She didn’t look entirely appeased and was still clearly upset that you were leaving. Abandoning your packing, you walked over to your bed and climbed onto the mattress to lay next to her on your back. Staring at the ceiling, you pondered on what to say. You hadn’t ever strayed too far from each other, nor had you ever stayed away for too long. But you moving away entirely? You didn’t know how either of you would deal with this. “You’re always welcome to visit, you know. It’s not like I’m never going to let you come. I’d be a horrid friend.” 

Jemima rotated her head to look at you laying next to her, her brown eyes still filled with worry. 

“I don’t know what’d I’d do if something happened to you, Y/N. Whatever your great-granddad got himself into, I don’t think the rumors are just rumors. You know what they say about what he had in the basement.” You didn’t laugh at her worries or try to correct her statement that in all your years of visiting Paul and Alex, no demons had ever come out of the basement… not that you had ever been down there. 

“Well I don’t plan on going into the basement and I’ve never heard anything while in the house. I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine. You know that Alex and Paul will never let anything happen to me.” Jemima sighed and rolled over, wrapping her arms around your body. You did the same as she buried her face into your neck. “I’m sure everything will be fine, you can come to visit during your summer break, and spend a few weeks there. I’m sure you’ll love walking the grounds.”

Your attempts at packing stopped for a moment as you and Jemima took a few moments to yourselves. That feeling of foreboding danger was still growing in the pit of your stomach, but you weren’t going to run away anymore. It was time to face your nightmares. 

You had departed from Manchester Victoria train station at approximately 05:11 in the morning, to arrive in London at about 08:25. It had been a brutal early morning on the train ride despite riding first class and having comfortable seat. You hadn’t bothered trying to sleep, knowing that you would only be plagued by dreams you still tried to avoid. So you spent the morning texting back and forth with Jemima who had driven you to the train station. She was still a ball of nerves and you doubt they would subside any time soon. You hoped that by texting her you would ease her worry by letting her know that you were okay. While you were waiting for your train to Wych Cross, you sat down with a coffee and scone. 

Paul had written you a full-length letter in the excitement of your coming to live with him and Alex. In the letter, he talked about everything that had been happening recently including Alex’s most recent decline in health. He was spending more and more time in his wheelchair and physical therapy was now coming more regularly. It was hard for Paul to continue to take care of Alex and your presence could certainly help with the strain. You were worried about Paul hurting himself and if you could prevent him from doing so by being there, your worry would lessen.  

Upon boarding the train that would take you to Wych Cross, you found a seat directly next to the window and decided to just enjoy the scenery you hadn’t seen in so long. Greenery and quaint houses passed by and you had vague recollections of them in your memories. Leaning your head against the glass, you let your thoughts wander.

Sitting on the edge of your small bed in your equally small hospital room, you stared at your sock-covered feet and ignored the man trying to talk to you about your latest therapy session. You didn’t want to talk about it, talking about it usually ended up with more treatment, or medication, or more shocks. Shocks you could still feel running up and down your spine. The doctors told you that the therapy would help your apparent psychosis. You didn’t understand what that word meant, but according to everyone around you, including your parents, it was bad. 

You worked so hard to pretend to be normal, to reduce the number of painful treatments you were subjected to. To reduce the number of times you were forced to swallow the medicine they gave you. It was never enough though, you could control yourself during your waking hours, but not when you were asleep. Your unconscious state gave you away every time.  

“Y/N, I need you to work with me. It’s the only way to make you feel better.” Dr. Cunningham spoke, tapping his pen on the clipboard he carried around. Your bloodshot eyes finally lifted. Dr. Cunningham looked old enough to be the same age as grandpapa Alex or Paul. His hair was greying, his face wrinkled, and his dark eyes dead from life. You didn’t like him because he personified everything you hated in this place where you were alone and scared. Mama and papa said they would fix you here, but all you felt was terror and pain. 

“I want to go home,” Your voice was soft yet scratchy, rough from the screams of pain during your shock therapy. You were supposed to be sedated, but every time you retained just enough consciousness to feel and remember every muscle twitch and spine-tingling shock that left your strapped-down body jerking place. You didn’t know what was worse, the shock therapy or the feeling of the sedatives they had started pumping into you at night to stop your dreams. You hated the lethargic feeling that bogged your body down so much you could barely move or speak. 

“We’ve talked about this, Y/N, you can go home when you’re nightmares go away and you stop having those dreams of yours.” He reminded you candidly. His pen clicked on his clipboard a few more times. “Perhaps it is time to have another session with Dr. Springer, I think it’s been quite a few days, hm? Let’s see how this session goes and reassess.” 

While your body started trembling in terror and crippling fear, Dr. Cunningham rose to his feet, wrote a few notes on his clipboard, and strode out of your room without another word. Drawing your legs up to your chest, you hugged your legs as hot tears leaked from your eyes. You wanted to go home, you wanted to go home so bad and forget that you had ever been sent to this place. No, you wanted to wake up from this nightmare and return to a life where you were happy. If only you didn’t have to forget about him to do so.

It wasn’t long before two orderlies arrived to collect you for another session with Dr. Spinger and herded you toward the treatment room, you let yourself fall into a state of numbness. Shutting down deep within yourself seemed to help you through your sessions, but it didn’t help the pain that crackled its way through your bones and body in sharp waves. Twisting through your nerves until your very fingers spasmed. You were lifted onto the treatment table by your arms and when the padded straps were strapped over your ankles and wrists, you stared at the same spot you always stared at before the treatment began. The orderlies moved around you without talking, poking and prodding you while sticking you with a needle and shoving a mouth guard between your teeth. As the electrodes were attached to your forehead Dr. Springer appeared overhead.

“Hello Y/N, Dr. Cunningham has told me it’s time to have another session. We’re going to up the frequency this time, and see if that makes a difference. Your mind is a tough nut to break, but don’t worry, we’ll make it crack soon enough and have you on your way home.” He said cheerfully. You didn’t like the way he spoke about breaking your mind. Your mind didn’t need to be broken to be fixed, did it? There was some chatter between the orderlies and the doctor and the metal probes were brought to your temples. Something was injected into your I.V., causing a wave of burn up your arm. Sleepiness started taking over, your body feeling heavier and heavier as each second passed, and just when you thought you would be able to slip into a sleep that would protect you from the shocks to come, intense lightning rippled from your temple straight to your toes, burning and tingling every inch of the body it passed. 

Biting down on the mouth guard, you thought you’d break your teeth with how hard your jaw clenched. Your uncontrollable jerking limbs were caught by the restraints as Dr. Springer counted out loud. You couldn’t hear what number he counted to, but the intense buzzing stopped momentarily as you sagged back to the cold table and another machine in the room started beeping and making other sounds. Whimpering through the mouth guard, your blurry vision settled on one of the nicer orderlies who sometimes held your hand, letting you squeeze hers as hard as you could.

“We’re almost there, love,” She whispered to you gently, patting your messy, unwashed hair. “Promise.” 

Maybe if you tried harder to let them break you, this would all be over. You focused on that thought as the next wave of electricity ran through your body, seizing your limbs until the leather restraints dug into your skin. 

Jerking from sleep while feeling the painful ghosts of electricity running through your limbs, you blinked against bright sunlight and winced as your head hurt. Straightening up in your seat, you rubbed your forehead and tried to get the memory out of your head. That wasn’t a particularly helpful memory to remember, you’d have preferred to not remember the fact that you had been shocked until your mind had forced itself to forget all about your dreams and experiences. At times your toes still curled from the phantom pain rattling up and down your spine. Apparently, they had gotten your medication dosage wrong and the anesthesia you were supposed to receive before the procedure, failed to work properly, leaving you to fully experience and remember the treatment. 

Your mind might have blocked out most of the memories of your experiences with your dreams but it had no issue remembering what you had gone through while at the psychiatric ward. It protected you for some time, but now you were remembering what it had worked hard to keep a secret, and you weren’t sure you wanted to remember what your brain had repressed. But then there was the raven-haired, silver-blue-eyed man who continued to haunt you even after all this time. Who was he and what did he want with you? Continuing to run your fingers through your hair, you noted that the train was slowing down and that the conductor was speaking over the intercom system. You had arrived in Wych Cross. 

Exiting the train and collecting your luggage was easy enough, finding a taxi that would take you to the manor was another story. Even today the locals were wary of approaching the old manor, but eventually, you found one willing to take you after explaining that you were the granddaughter of Alex and Paul and that they were expecting your arrival. It wasn’t that long of a trip to the manor and after paying for the taxi, you picked up your luggage and walked over to the grand front doors still just as polished as you remembered. You hit the door knocker and waited. It was a few moments before the door creaked open to reveal Herman, the steward of Paul and Alex. 

“It has been some time since you last visited us, Little Miss,” Herman spoke, opening the door wider and holding out his hand for your luggage. 

“You’re going to have to get used to seeing me around, Herman, are my grandfathers in the study with tea?” Herman bowed his head while taking your luggage. 

“As you suspect Miss, I shall bring your luggage to your room?” Nodding in thanks, you glided through the familiar halls, heading in the direction of the study where you would find Alex and Paul enjoying a cup of afternoon tea. They were creatures of habit after all. Quietly letting yourself into the long room, you saw Alex sitting in his chair, sipping from his cup while Paul held a paper in hand, reading the morning news no doubt. 

“I hope I’m not intruding,” You spoke up, emerging from the shadows. Paul beamed at you as Alex’s face glowed with happiness in his old age. You were honestly surprised they were both still living given their ages, but you were glad to have them as long as you had.  

“Y/N! You’ve arrived! We’ve missed having you running around the manor in the summer.” You went to Alex first, leaning down to kiss his cheek and hug him before doing the same with Paul. 

“You needn’t worry about me leaving, grandpapa, I’m here for good now,” You reassured Alex as Paul prepared you a teacup from the tray on the table. He handed you the cup. “So, do tell me what you two have been up to as of late?” 

Date Published: 8/19/22

Last Edit: 4/25/23

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#dream the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus #lord morpheus #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless #dream x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #the sandman

[danpuff-ao3]

Snarry-a-Thon 2014 Recs

Snarry-a-Thon is an annual fest of Snarry goodness that always brings so much creativity and joy in the Snarry community. I am forever blown away by how much talent and passion Snarry-lovers have. With that in mind, I wanted to create some special recs for a fest near and dear to my heart.

With that, here are my Top 5 picks for the 2014 fest! But first...

Disclaimer: my rec lists are created based on my personal experiences and preferences. There are plenty of other stories and authors who are quite good and deserve just as much love. This is not meant to be an objective “best of the best” list, but the subjective opinion of a longtime reader and fangirl.

The Mirror of the Hidden

by agneskamilla. Rated: T. Words: 4,217. Angst. Violence. Case fic.

When the Ministry gets stuck with a murder case they ask for Harry Potter’s expertise in the area of mirror-magic. Guess whom he has to work with. Originally written for Snarry-a-Thon14, for prompt #54: They had a relationship that ended badly. A couple years later they meet again, still in love and still bitter about how it ended.

The Trouble With Bargains

by darkmistress. Rated: E. Words: 7957. First Time. Robin Hood AU.

Harry needs a favor from the Sheriff, but neither end up expecting this turn of events. Anonymous Prompt: Harry Potter as Robin Hood, and Severus Snape as the Sheriff of Nottingham

This Unavoidable Thing Between Us

by emynn. Rated: E. Words: 35,787. Angst. PTSD. Postwar. Writing. Reunions. Romance.

Haunted by memories of the war, Harry has spent the past twenty years hiding from the Wizarding world. But when he's convinced against his better judgment to help the Ministry commemorate the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, he is forced to confront both the ghosts of his past and the man who abandoned him when he needed him the most – Severus Snape.

Knight Moves

by suitesamba (@suitesamba). Rated: E. Words: 8663. Humor. Romance.

Harry and Severus get to know each other a few years after the war ends when each of them is sentenced to community service on the Knight Bus.

Birdsong

by Writcraft (@writcraft). Rated: E. Words: 11,855. Forced bonding. Romance. Horror.

When Harry goes to look for Snape’s body after the war, he encounters an apparition in the Forbidden Forest which instructs him to dispose of Snape’s memories. Higher plans are set in motion, and four years later Harry and Severus find themselves irrevocably entwined.

Snarry-a-Thon 2014 Masterlist

#danpuff recs #snarry #snarry-a-thon 14 #thon recs #snarry-a-thon

[dramioneasks]

Hello! Maybe this is a hard ask to answer, but could you guys rec dramione fics with the best villains/antagonists in your opinion.

These are fics that I found had unique mysteries and were very AU (in a good way):

Femme Fatale By: cleotheo - M, 26 chapters - Draco Malfoy’s new position as an Auror for the British Ministry throws him head first into a hunt for a serial killer. Working with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, he sets out to catch the killer as well as entering into a romantic relationship with their other colleague, Hermione Granger. Murder mystery with a side helping of Dramione romance.

The Assignment - Nightbloom7 - E, 17 chapters - Cursed objects are causing death and destruction. When the objects themselves are found to hold no trace of Dark Magic, the Department of Magical Artefacts is stumped. Draco Malfoy leant back in his chair and crossed his arms in bafflement. “And your professional assessment is that the best way of gathering evidence is sending Granger and I together to a sex club?” “Worried about your reputation, Malfoy?” Hermione asked flatly. He scoffed. “Hardly. If I were outed for going to an expensive parisian sex den it would be considered very much on brand.” "That’s why it’s so important we’re believable as a couple. We should talk about touching,” Hermione insisted. "Touching,” Draco repeated, alarm bells going off in his mind. "As in how much of it you’re okay with, where…" "Casual touching,“ he nodded. "But also, passionate touching,” Granger pressed. Merlin’s beard. Draco was quickly coming to the realisation that he was likely to regret this.

The Order of Serpents by bl_crtz - E, 43 chapters, Words: 190,103 - During the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter walked into the forbidden forest, died, and walked out with crimson eyes as the new vessel of the Dark Lord. Since then, Hermione Granger served as an elite member of the True Order, isolating herself from other Order members and going on missions alone, not only haunted by the loss of her best friend, Harry, but Ron who had run away after the battle. Three and a half years later, Draco Malfoy shows up with his two year old son on the Order’s doorstep seeking to switch sides. Together, Draco and Hermione are forced to deal with not only each other, but their own past and confront who they’ve become because of the war.

Tremble & Depart - DarkoftheMoon - E, 30 chapters, Words: 139,609 - Draco Lucius Malfoy. Death Eater. Disposable. Life on probation at the Ministry meant keeping his head down and his mouth shut. On his first field assignment he’s tasked with investigating an abandoned Death Eater manor hiding more than a few secrets in its walls. Stuck with the only witch who agreed to work with him.

The Best of Me - MrsRen - M, 21 chapters - Officially, Hermione Granger was killed in action during the Battle of Hogwarts. Unofficially, Draco Malfoy has never stopped searching for her. Years after the war during a mission in France, his salvation comes in the form of a little blond boy and a familiar half-Kneazle.

High on Magic - LightofEvolution - M, 18 chapters - After years of living a life as a successful doctor, Hermione is needed in the world of magic again. A dangerous drug causes dramatic problems for the magical society, and it’s up to Hermione to solve them. And then there’s this certain blond Auror she can’t get out of her head… AU, EWE

The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man by ianthewaiting - M, 28 Chapters - Ten years after the fall of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger leads of life of self-imposed obscurity, that is, until the day Headmistress Minerva McGonagall is murdered and a certain ‘hero’ is responsible. DM/HG, written originally in 2007-2008, and finally making its debut here! AU, DH-EWE, non-canon elements, time travel, character death, etc.

Hunted - bex-chan - M, 36 chapters - Forced to work together when their old schoolmates start dying, Hermione & Draco must overcome their differences to solve the mysterious deaths. The tension in the office is getting rather…heated. Mature themes. 4years PostHogwarts/War. EWE.

Inheritance By: bifmonzo - M, 31 chapters, Words: 190,240 - Draco is an Auror. Hermione is just trying to do her job. Neither of them are prepared for what happens after she wakes up hungover in his bed. And someone, but there’s really no telling who, has a secret that threatens the reality upon which their entire world is built. Dramione, nine years post-war.

WANDS OUT! - persephone_stone - M, 10 chapters - Albus Dumbledore appeared to have the perfect life: a successful career as a novelist, a loving family, and a dedicated staff. But when he is found dead of an apparent suicide on the morning of his 90th birthday, the life that seemed so perfect from the outside begins to unravel at the seams. With a team of investigators on the case, a greater mystery than any Albus could have written begins to unfold, full of lies, secrets, and murder. There’s only one thing to be sure of: everyone is a suspect. Join your favorite HP characters on a manic murder mystery romp, adapted from the Rian Johnson movie Knives Out! Note: Reading this will not spoil the movie, and having seen the movie will not spoil the story. I invite you to enjoy both!

Sins of the Past By: cleotheo - M, 36 chapters, Words: 100,880 - When Scorpius Malfoy and his best friend, Alex Zabini, go travelling the last thing anyone expects is for the two boys to run into trouble in Wizarding Britain. But when Alex is found unconscious outside of a nightclub and Scorpius is on the missing list, the Malfoys past comes back to haunt them as it becomes clear that someone is after revenge.

-Lisa

#anonymous #mystery #au #favourite fics

[atundratoadstool]

A Mr. Swales Glossary for August 1

[Organized in the order in which words appear in the text; definitions taken from Stoker's notes and his source: F. K. Robinson's A Glossary of Words Used in the Neighborhood of Whitby ]

Nowt: Nothing

Ban: Curse

Waft: A ghost; a passing shadow

Boh-ghosts an' bar-guests: Apparitions that take on human or animal shape. According to the glossary Stoker consulted, barguests are frequently said to haunt castles and may take the shape of dogs, calves, mastiffs, or pigs, with a common feature of their appearance being their burning coal-like eyes.

Bogle: A fearful object, hobgoblin, or bugbear

Anent: Concerning

Bairn: Child

Dizzy: Half-witted

Bledder: To blubber or weep

Air-bleb: A bubble or an unsound scheme

Grim: A type of ghost resulting from an old tradition in which animals were interred in the foundational walls of churches, such that their spirits might guard the premises and give warning of approaching death via their howls.

Illsome: Evil disposed

Beuk-body: A learned person

Scunner: To scare

Hafflin: A half-wit

Airt: Quarter or direction

Acant: Leaning in one direction

Scowderment: Pandemonium; the bustle and confusion arising before a meal or major event

Death-Sark: Shroud

Joup: Jumbled together

Trimmle: Tremble

Dither: To thrill or shiver with cold or fear

Dozzen'd: Shriveled

Yabblins: Possibly!

Poorish Few: Only a small number

Balm Bowl: Chamberpot

Kirkgarth: Churchyard

Consate: Imagine, conceive

Hap: Bury, cover

Snod and Snog: Safe and sound; smooth and compact

Lay-bed: Grave

Toom: Empty Old Dun: The public hangman (I've also seen this given as "the Devil," if I recall)

Bacca-Box: Tobacco box Aftest: Hindmost

Abaft: Behind

Bier-Bank: A churchyard path, particularly one leading from the Lichgate to the church building.

Antherums: Doubts

Thruff-Stean: A table tomb

Gawm: Understand

Acrewked: Twisted, crotchety

Lamiter: A lame or deformed person

Cleg: Horse-fly

Dowp: Carrion crow

Addle: (In Stoker's notes, the definition of this word is listed as "to live." In Robinson's glossary, however, it is given as meaning "to earn a living.")

Keckle: To laugh or chuckle

#Bram Stoker #Dracula #Dracula Daily #Mr. Swales #long post

[jeweled-blue-eyes]

Why the jester being the secret son of King Klaus would have been a good twist: a compilation of circumstancial evidence

the king is said to be haunted by the ghosts of the dead. His first wife. His second wife. His brother. He cannot let go of the past and keeps tormenting himself by projecting the dead onto the living.

2. blue eyes are seen as an indicator that someone is royal. Clear blue eyes like the sea. The king has them. The first princess Varona has them, the second princess Lux has them, the rumored bastard prince Fanton has them. And who else has them? The only character with blue eyes who is not part of the royal family? That's right. The court jester. (I also find the paneling very interesting as it focuses on the jesters reaction when the message about a prince who has been secretly living on the palace grounds is being read aloud.) - chapter 51

It is implied that Fanton might be a pretender to the throne. Wouldn't it have been hilarious if there had been indeed a secret heir and this boy has been living right under the princess' nose enjoying her protection and affections? That princess Varona has been agonizing over the wrong person the entire time when the real threat has been by her side all along?

3. the Jester, princess Varona and the late king Klaus look alot like each other

do I even need to elaborate. Other readers have said that the princess and the jester look alot like siblings.

4. The king's hallucination. In chapter 19 the king had locked himself up in his room and has been smoking bokhwa seeds (a foreign drug). The consumption of the drug caused him to experience nightmares and auditory hallucinations. He asks the jester if he can hear the screams of soldiers dying. What was the king hearing? Could it possibly have been a memory of the night when he staged the coup d'etat to dispose of King Klaus?

The jester asks him if he had an unpleasant dream and worries about his health since the King had been using drugs. To this the king answers: "You sound just like him." The jester assumes the king was talking about the prime minister but what if he wasn't? Couldn't this scene have felt familiar to him? - chapter 19

5. the scene where the King runs away from Lux because he sees his dead wife in her and then turns around the corner, almost running into the jester and he has a look of pure horror on his face. - chapter 22

6. we know nothing about his parents. the protagonist himself confesses that he was never curious about them since his mind was preoccupied with finding ways to survive in the harsh environment of the orphanage he was raised in.

what we do know is that a nobleman took a shine to him and acted as a father figure. ("as for a father I suppose I had some of sorts"). It is highly unlikely that an aristocrat would take in a dirty orphan boy without having any ulterior motives. If the nobleman knew about mc's identity as the King's trueborn son it would serve as a logical explanation why someone like him took in a homeless child. He either did this to protect him following the King's orders or to use him once has grown up. - chapter 47

but something must have went wrong. The aristocrat died and mc became the court jester.

7. The protagonist is said to be the court jester that the king adores so much, yet the king calls him to his side and makes him perform tricks for him for hours. He doesn't care if the jester gets hurt, with a cruel smile on his lips he demands the jester to continue juggling knives while he is bleeding. Granted the king is occasionally cruel to servants (throwing objects at them when he is in a terrible mood but he seems to have been the cruelest to the jester.) - chapter 2

Presuming that the protagonist had been the previous king's son this would certainly explain the abuse and humilation. Making the surviving son of king Klaus a jester could have also been a petty form of revenge.

#tears of a jester #in conclusion: missed opportunity dear author #I want an AU where this theory is true very badly

[pandolfo-malatesta]

The Problem in British Libraries, Archives, and Museums Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements of the MSc I’m apparently doing in the Sociology of the Lockwood & Co. Universe

As the Problem made itself known, there was most likely a period when many cultural heritage institutions in the UK closed, whether temporarily or permanently, due to hauntings.  Not everything old is a Source, but the nature of collecting items of historical significance and sometimes unclear provenance means that the possibility of a repository owning at least one Source is higher than it would be for, say, the average household.  In a similar vein, not every work of art is a Source, but there are likely those with which an artist, owner, or muse had a strong connection and to which a spirit became tied.

Probably the most well-known piece of legislation regarding the collections in the British Museum is the British Museum Act 1963.  It’s well-known because it sets out the Museum’s famously and contentiously strict rules about deaccessioning (that is, removing items from a museum’s collection altogether, whether to sell, destroy, or repatriate them).  The policy is usually boiled down to the fact that the Museum can’t easily get rid of stuff it owns, no matter how dodgily it came to own said stuff.  The text of the 2018 “British Museum policy: De-accession of objects from the collection” states that

“Under the [British Museum] Act [1963], Trustees do not have the power to sell, exchange, give away or otherwise dispose of any object vested in them and comprised in the Collection unless - (a) the object is a duplicate of another object held in the Collection, or (b) in the opinion of the Trustees the object is unfit to be retained in the Collection and can be disposed of without detriment to the interests of the public or scholars; (c) it has become useless for the purposes of the Museum by reason of damage, physical deterioration, or infestation by destructive organisms.”

To my mind, subsections (b) and (c) above suggest that the deaccessioning policy in the L&Co universe would be more lax than in the real world.  “Unfit to be retained in the Collection” is fairly ambiguous and could certainly describe a Source; and “destructive organisms” would definitely include Visitors.  (I’m so glad I looked up this text because I love the application of that phrase to ghosts, and I also know that in that universe there would be arguments about whether or not it really applied.)  So it’s possible that, given the ability to transport objects safely, the British Museum may have been more open to repatriating items than they currently are.  From events in The Empty Grave I think it’s reasonable to infer that the Problem is limited to Great Britain*, so returning objects to their home countries might have the effect of neutralizing them as Sources.

Of course, there are objects and artworks that museums would be loath to lose.  Those could be kept on display in enclosures made of silver, iron, and silver-glass.  Extra security might be warranted, though, to prevent Sources from being stolen and/or Visitors from being released.  Silver-glass might also affect how colors look; museums and galleries could circumvent this distortion by posting true-color reproductions alongside informational texts.

While the average public library probably wouldn’t experience much trouble with their collections--their materials belong to the institution, not to an individual, and that the items circulate would keep any one person from becoming too attached to them--special libraries, rare book collections, and archives potentially would.  Here, however, some special collections have an advantage.  Beginning in the Middle Ages, when books were more time-consuming and expensive to produce, some institutions, particularly cathedral libraries, kept their collections secure by chaining books to shelves or tables.  If the chains were made of iron, as I think it’s safe to assume they are, these libraries, still in existence in places like Wells Cathedral, would have a built-in defense against Visitors.

And some buildings themselves would guard against hauntings: for example, the Herbarium at Kew Gardens is in a building with iron features, including a spiral staircase and columns.

Whereas works of art known to be Sources could still be viewed safely using established precautions, archival materials suspected of harboring Visitors present additional difficulties.  Archival materials tend to be documents with inherent significance and significance within the context of the rest of the collection; removing a piece of the collection is not ideal.  Add to that the fact that researchers handle documents individually, and that the information that they’re looking for is not always contained in the text of the documents but in the material itself and therefore that transcriptions or other reproductions do not always meet the researcher’s needs.  With all this in mind it’s clear that destroying documentary Sources is not the best option.  That said, I’m not sure what the best option would be.  Run outside in the sunshine, unfold whatever document so all of the writing is visible, and stick it in a silver-glass float-style frame?  It’d keep the interns busy, at least.

As most LAMs tend to be open during the day, when supernatural activity wanes, materials could be handled and viewed relatively safely.  But additional measures could allow them to carry out their missions all the more efficiently.

Thanks for coming to my TEDTalk.

*

Future topics for consideration: comparative safety of different forms of transport, both domestically and internationally; the global impact of the UK’s stagnation and decline; the fact that Doc Martens totally makes ectoplasm-resistant boots.

*

*if it somehow included all of the British Isles: lol imagine the Derry girls as agents

#Lockwood & Co #Lockwood and Co #L&Co #putting my actual degrees to use here

[bluetooththereptilethethird]

The blessed one

Yandere vampire Ra’s Al Ghul x fem reader

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

(This fic is one of the multiple choices of this post)

Summary: Your suffering won’t end when you are blessed by your master’s touch…

Tw: Mentions of injury and death

The sound of glass shattering filled your enormous room as you watched the remaining of its red liquid taint the curtains. "Tell your master I'm sick of his dirty games! I don't need his blessing!" You used the remnants of your lungs to scream this at the maid who had brought you a drink from your master when he was still in sleep. The maid panicked as she knelt to gather the glass shard not wanting to face the consequences of keeping sharp objects at your disposal.

Your body reacted to your sudden screaming and you started to cough violently, your hands giving in and making you fall onto the soft embrace of your bed as you tried to catch your breath. You wished you'd die and be free of the pain that was inflicted on you by your master for the 10th time that day. Your head turned to look out of the window, the sun was setting and the sky was red because of its faltering rays, it was like even the sky was mourning by being like the color of blood. The thick black pillars of smoke could be seen easily, the disgusting smell of the burnt flesh and smoke reaching to you by the wind and the incense couldn't mask the smell.

Noticing the smell getting stronger your body jolted as you started to gag, the maid in the room running to you so could throw up the non-existing remains of the food in your stomach in a bucket. You hadn't eaten in days, since the plague had haunted your body you hadn't had the chance of having a proper meal and not throwing it up. You cursed under your breath as you whimpered, trying to lay on the side that didn't hurt much, the wounds on your body were still fresh and the medicine that was applied to them made them burn even more.

Your master was playing with you, torturing you by letting you live through your sickness, slowly feeding you the right medicine so you wouldn't heal fast. You were aware of his revival skills, he had brought you back to life when you had successfully hung yourself in your room after all. He had made you gain your sanity back so you could watch him make humanity perish by the disease he had created with your help. Well, you were not aware of it until it was too late, and you had tried to kill yourself to get away from the great shame that was going to cast its shadow on your life for eternity. But your master had other plans for you.

The sun went down and the candles and lamps were light on their own, letting you know that your master was awake now. You hissed as you pulled the covers on you trying to ignore the door of your room opening on its own. "Greetings master!" The maid's voice echoed in the room as you heard two different footsteps, one was hurried and quick and another one was calm and you could tell easily who the second one belonged to.

The door was closed shut when the maid hurried away, leaving you and your master alone. "I see that you refused to take your medicine today my dear...such a pity..." his words made you scoff to yourself, he acted as if he cared for you, and though he did care for you, he also played you around like a rag doll, so his concerned voice seemed more of an act to you than being genuine. "Hiding under the covers won't make me go away my dear...why don't you lift them so I can see your beautiful face?" You didn't move, you were being dared tonight by refusing his bidding, you hoped he'd get angry and finish you off like what he had threatened you with in the past, but unfortunately for you, Ra's was in a good mood today.

Your foot was left out of the covers and you didn't realize it until his ice-cold touch made you jolt up in your place as he took your foot in his hands, sitting next to you. He patiently removed the bandages on your foot, letting the air touch your wounds, making you wince in pain and clench the covers you were holding. You couldn't see his amused smirk as he examined your wounds. "It hurts doesn't it?" You didn't reply, making him let out a hum. "They will leave marks on for sure..." he said, his words were pitiful but his voice was interested. You turned nauseous again at that, knowing well how sick he'd get when he wanted to make his subjects suffer.

You regretted your decision every day you woke up, finding yourself in your luxurious room that was filled with the finest. You hated every second of your life in the Ghul's castle, but you couldn't escape it, even though death was not on your side in this life. At first, you had thought Ra's was a decent man with ambitious thoughts and a really strange affection for you. He had treated you well which was surprising for a man with his reputation, you could move around the castle freely and the only time your service was required was when he needed to use your powers for his inventions which you were not aware of their purpose. Even when he wanted to have you you were not forced into it, you were seduced by his charm.

Oh, how foolish you were, when you found out about your master's ominous plans it was too late and his plans were going to work and it was all because of you, who had provided him the energy he needed. That was when you found out about his true intentions, his charming mask was shattered and now you could see why he was fearsome to many. He was a genius, you couldn't deny it, but he was a mad one at that. He had the best intentions but only for his race, he believed in race's hierarchy, and to his tastes, humans were too disobedient to the superior race, which were the vampires. So he had spent his life researching the science of creating diseases and he had succeeded in it.

His plans were simple and complicated at the same time. He'd spread a deadly plague that only affected humans, killing most of the population. Then the survivors who were stronger than the others would be under the heavy hands of the vampires who'd use them as slaves. Thankfully their blood was no longer a necessity for vampires, after the Wayne family invented dried artificial blood pills vampires no longer were worried about their food supply, though still many enjoyed hunting humans down just for the sheer joy of the hunt. Ra's had his plans almost ready but he needed something to power up the disease and make it flourish, but he couldn't find anything that powerful. Until the dark gods gave him an effective hint. You.

Although you had killed yourself to run away from him and the world he was going to shape to his desires, he had revived you with help of his vast knowledge and as a punishment, he had made you witness the process of the disease spreading through the dark lands and for the extra effect of it, he had infected you as well. You hoped you'd die but no! You were his blessed concubine and he didn't want to lose you, the only person that had let him taste the pleasures of the mortals again. So you were given the cure for the disease but the process was painfully slow and it took a mental toll on you.

"Hiding won't help my dear...you know you have to serve me soon..." he said as he wiped the medicine off of your skin so he could apply a fresh layer on. "W-what do you mean?" You asked in shock when you pulled the covers away quickly, to meet his grinning face. "You have to serve me, my dear Y/N, you know you can not refuse me..." he said as he arched his brow at you, making your stomach turn in disgust. "Never! I won't touch a monster like you!" He chuckled at your refusal as he applied for the medicine gently. "We will see...we will see..."

"Why are you doing this to me? What did I do to you?" You said as your voice trembled. "You tried to take away the flavor of my life my dear...you need to be punished for being selfish..." "Oh I'm being selfish or you who killed who knows how many people just to clean the face of the dark lands from the taint of humanity?" He didn't give you a response, but the pressure he applied on your foot as he was wrapping it up with bandages made you whimper in pain. "You are still naive, you can not see the world the way I do. Your mortal mind is like a child's compared to mine, I'm not blaming you for being naive...but doing something reckless like taking your life is what infuriates me."

"I'll take my life again!" You hissed "And I will show you why the royalty is afraid of me!" "Why do you care about my life? You just said I'm nothing more than a naive mortal!" He sighed as if he was arguing with a child, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he just put your foot down and stood up. Leaving your side. You watched as he walked away, looking out of the window. "Life as a vampire, without something to cherish, is bland..." he started "It is indeed a gift to live forever, but this eternal life comes with a price...you'd lose your taste to what you enjoyed before, you'd reach a point where you can tell you know everything and after that, the world seems boring and you want to amuse yourself."

He turned to you "Either by debauchery or finding the one that dark gods have chosen for you a vampire can enjoy their life...and I was blessed by the gods to find my chosen one..." you clenched your fist on the covers as he spoke...was...was it true? You must have been cursed or something! Why? Why him out of all people? "I don't expect you to understand, but I'd like to warn you, my dear...don't ever try to take what is mine! And your life, your body and soul...belongs to me!" His words echoed in your mind as you cried, ignoring the burning sensation of your tears on your scared skin. You could hear the mischievous laughter of the dark gods when you closed your ears to not see your master anymore, they had cursed you and you were fully aware of it.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x fem reader #fem reader #yandere dc #yanddre batman #yandere Ra's Alghul #yandere vampire #vampire au #vampire dc

[fatehbaz]

[T]he contemporary Western city [...] [is] the site of [...] regulatory regimes concerned with strategies of surveillance and aesthetic monitoring [...]. The modern city can never become a wholly Appollonian, seamlessly regulated realm for it continues to be haunted by the neglected, the disposed of, and the repressed [...]. Within the interstices of the city there are a host of other spaces, part of a “wild zone”, a “[…] site […] which avoids the objective processes of ordered territorialisation […]”. [T]he ‘spaces between buildings’, the unadorned backsides of the city, the alleys, [...] and other microspaces, along with wastelands [...]. Staged […] through the intensified mediatisation and commodification of popular sites, myths, and icons […], mediated imaginary geographies circulate through adverts, soap operas, ‘classic’ rock stations [...] typically drenched in […] ideologies. […] These exhibitions memorialise culture via ‘publicly sanctioned narratives’ and institutionalised rhetoric [...]. [I]n which people are encoded and contextualied, categorised and narrated. Accordingly, ruins are places from which other memories can be articulated, from which “the things and the people who are primarily unseen and banished to the periphery of our social graciousness” [...] may be encountered. [...] Along with other places on the margins of regulated space, industrial ruins are “points of transition, passages [...], moments of magic that exist at the interstices of modernity” […]. Modern attempts to cleanse, banish ambiguity, and order the memory of space are always disturbed [...] by the ghosts they contain, who refuse to rest quietly, [...] a “spectral [...] residue“ which haunts dominant ways of seeing and being [...]. In contradistinction to the fixed memories [...] and to the imaginary linearities proposed by hegemonic […] memories, these ghosts foreground ambiguity, polysemy, and multiplicity, enabling us to “disrupt the signifying chains of legitimacy [...].” Although it is often overcoded and regulated, the city nevertheless contains multitudinous scraps from which alternative stories might be assembled. […] In spaces such as industrial ruins, the excessive debris confronted constitutes material for multiple modes of narration about the past: “the debris of shipwrecked histories still today raise up the ruins of an unknown, strange city. They burst forth within the modernist, massive, homogenous city like slips of the tongue from an unknown, perhaps unconscious, language” (de Certeau and Giard, 1998) [...]. This kind of remembering implies an ethics about confronting and understanding otherness (here, the alterity of the past) which is tactile, imaginative […].

Text by: Tim Edensor. “The ghosts of industrial ruins: ordering and disordering memory in excessive space.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space volume 23. 2005.

---

[W]hat has to be forgotten to make things [legible to hegemonic systems] [...], the survivals of other ways of thinking that creep in as ‘lapses in the syntax created by the law [...]’ where ‘they symbolize a return of the repressed [...].’ Their irreducible ‘thingness’ renders them resistant to representation. [...] [L]ook at the authority mechanisms through which speech is credentialised [...]. The propre creates objects through transforming the uncertainties of history into readable spaces [...]. These are the ruins of non-hegemonic systems [...]. Instead he seeks a mode of knowledge through travel to open space to difference [...]. Stories are not about movement, but make movements, not objects but effects, they transform [...]. [R]eading, narrating and speaking. Where ‘pedestrian utterances’ [engaging, commuting, interacting with the landscape] speak the city [...]. [S]pace is practised place. [...] The gaze of power transfixes objects but also thus becomes blind to a vast array of things that do not fit its categories. [...] Control of space is a matter of strategy which is orientated through the construction of proper knowledge. In contrast, there are tactics -- the arts of making do, like reading, or cooking --  which use what is there in multiple permutations. This practical knowledge of the city [or other types of places] transforms and crosses spaces, creates new links [...], comprising mobile geography of looks and glances. A crucial well spring is memory. [...] The alterity is that these memories contain not just events, but still carry the remains of different conceptual systems from whence they came. These then are the ghosts in the machine. Walking [traveling, moving, exploring] is to create [...] haunted geographies.

Text by: Mike Crang. “Relics, places and unwritten geographies in the work of Michel de Certeau (1925-86).” In: Thinking Space. 2000.

#abolition #ecology

[conjuremanj]

How To Stop A Boo Hag From Riding You Or Your Family. Hoodoo Working.

In this post I'll be talking on Boo Hags and giving a working to capture one from writing you are a family member.

But before I do let's talk on what they actually are.

Where Did The Story Come From? Boo Hag is rooted in African American folklore, mostly by the Gullah-Geechee communities along low country. Now one origin of the Boo Hag is traced back to West African folklore and there is a creature known as the “Adze” or “Ade” a Adze.

What Are They? Boo hags are spirits, their similar to vampires that may be undead beings or spirits that feed off of living humans by sitting on their victims chest and sucking the energy or life sustenance from a person's breath, instead of their blood. I think their spirits of dead witches who continue to do bad after death, over time they change into this enity. Boo Hags can also give a person the medical condition known as "Sleep Paralysis"

You may wake up with strange scratches, recurring nightmares, exhaustion and illness as a result. All together, these symptoms will lead to mental illness or death

How To They Get In My House? They can easily enter your house through very small openings like a window, or a crack in a wall, key holes etc.

Fortunately, there are some warning signs that a Boo Hag may be close by. Some dogs are able to sense their presence and will start howling or barking. Crows will also recognize them. The air will be hot and damp, smell of rot and decay can happen. Now I never experienced one my self but if you have these signs then It could be a hag.

How Can One Hope To Stop Such Evil? For all of the Boo Hag’s power, there are a number of ways to keep her at bay.

Story goes that they obsessive-compulsive disorder and feels compelled to count the actions any small objects. Scattering sesame seeds around the bed will accomplish this as well can help you escape.

Who knows how fast they count but they do like to count. Sun light can destroy her.

Fake Hoodoo. I see this a lot, Boo Hag, hates the smell of asafoetida. This plaint is native to places like Turkmenistan, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Uzbekistan so understand how did the African Americans use this in the south. DON'T BYE.

WORKING: To Catch a Boo Hags.

Get yourself a blue bottle. Haunt blue and a plain white candle. (You can bye these bottles cheap online or use a bud platinum bottle or a milk of magnesia bottle)

Clean the bottle out. Then turn the bottle on its side and place it by the door of the room or where you believe the hag might be coming in at.

Next place mustered seeds under the bed making a line from the bed all the way to the bottle, then around the bottle. (You can add a pinch of salt to it a well.

Light your white candle in the back behind the bottle. Pray the 23rd Psalms.

If and when the candle start making hussing or crackling sounds you have it trapped in the bottle. Take your cap and close the bottle up take it out side and dispose of it. The sun will destroy it.

#Boo Hags #african hoodoo #african spirituality #african practices #hoodoo ritual #hoodoo practitioner #traditional hoodoo #southern hoodoo #like and/or reblog! #spiritual #google search #rootwork #follow my blog #southern conjure #southern magic #traditional rootwork #rootwork questions #ask me anything #Hoodoo working.

[bluetooththereptile]

The Blessed One

Yandere vampire Ra's Al Ghul x fem reader

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

(This fic is one of the multiple choices of this post)

Summary: Your suffering won't end when you are blessed by your master's touch...

Tw: Mentions of injury and death

The sound of glass shattering filled your enormous room as you watched the remaining of its red liquid taint the curtains. "Tell your master I'm sick of his dirty games! I don't need his blessing!" You used the remnants of your lungs to scream this at the maid who had brought you a drink from your master when he was still in sleep. The maid panicked as she knelt to gather the glass shard not wanting to face the consequences of keeping sharp objects at your disposal.

Your body reacted to your sudden screaming and you started to cough violently, your hands giving in and making you fall onto the soft embrace of your bed as you tried to catch your breath. You wished you'd die and be free of the pain that was inflicted on you by your master for the 10th time that day. Your head turned to look out of the window, the sun was setting and the sky was red because of its faltering rays, it was like even the sky was mourning by being like the color of blood. The thick black pillars of smoke could be seen easily, the disgusting smell of the burnt flesh and smoke reaching to you by the wind and the incense couldn't mask the smell.

Noticing the smell getting stronger your body jolted as you started to gag, the maid in the room running to you so could throw up the non-existing remains of the food in your stomach in a bucket. You hadn't eaten in days, since the plague had haunted your body you hadn't had the chance of having a proper meal and not throwing it up. You cursed under your breath as you whimpered, trying to lay on the side that didn't hurt much, the wounds on your body were still fresh and the medicine that was applied to them made them burn even more.

Your master was playing with you, torturing you by letting you live through your sickness, slowly feeding you the right medicine so you wouldn't heal fast. You were aware of his revival skills, he had brought you back to life when you had successfully hung yourself in your room after all. He had made you gain your sanity back so you could watch him make humanity perish by the disease he had created with your help. Well, you were not aware of it until it was too late, and you had tried to kill yourself to get away from the great shame that was going to cast its shadow on your life for eternity. But your master had other plans for you.

The sun went down and the candles and lamps were light on their own, letting you know that your master was awake now. You hissed as you pulled the covers on you trying to ignore the door of your room opening on its own. "Greetings master!" The maid's voice echoed in the room as you heard two different footsteps, one was hurried and quick and another one was calm and you could tell easily who the second one belonged to.

The door was closed shut when the maid hurried away, leaving you and your master alone. "I see that you refused to take your medicine today my dear...such a pity..." his words made you scoff to yourself, he acted as if he cared for you, and though he did care for you, he also played you around like a rag doll, so his concerned voice seemed more of an act to you than being genuine. "Hiding under the covers won't make me go away my dear...why don't you lift them so I can see your beautiful face?" You didn't move, you were being dared tonight by refusing his bidding, you hoped he'd get angry and finish you off like what he had threatened you with in the past, but unfortunately for you, Ra's was in a good mood today.

Your foot was left out of the covers and you didn't realize it until his ice-cold touch made you jolt up in your place as he took your foot in his hands, sitting next to you. He patiently removed the bandages on your foot, letting the air touch your wounds, making you wince in pain and clench the covers you were holding. You couldn't see his amused smirk as he examined your wounds. "It hurts doesn't it?" You didn't reply, making him let out a hum. "They will leave marks on for sure..." he said, his words were pitiful but his voice was interested. You turned nauseous again at that, knowing well how sick he'd get when he wanted to make his subjects suffer.

You regretted your decision every day you woke up, finding yourself in your luxurious room that was filled with the finest. You hated every second of your life in the Ghul's castle, but you couldn't escape it, even though death was not on your side in this life. At first, you had thought Ra's was a decent man with ambitious thoughts and a really strange affection for you. He had treated you well which was surprising for a man with his reputation, you could move around the castle freely and the only time your service was required was when he needed to use your powers for his inventions which you were not aware of their purpose. Even when he wanted to have you you were not forced into it, you were seduced by his charm.

Oh, how foolish you were, when you found out about your master's ominous plans it was too late and his plans were going to work and it was all because of you, who had provided him the energy he needed. That was when you found out about his true intentions, his charming mask was shattered and now you could see why he was fearsome to many. He was a genius, you couldn't deny it, but he was a mad one at that. He had the best intentions but only for his race, he believed in race's hierarchy, and to his tastes, humans were too disobedient to the superior race, which were the vampires. So he had spent his life researching the science of creating diseases and he had succeeded in it.

His plans were simple and complicated at the same time. He'd spread a deadly plague that only affected humans, killing most of the population. Then the survivors who were stronger than the others would be under the heavy hands of the vampires who'd use them as slaves. Thankfully their blood was no longer a necessity for vampires, after the Wayne family invented dried artificial blood pills vampires no longer were worried about their food supply, though still many enjoyed hunting humans down just for the sheer joy of the hunt. Ra's had his plans almost ready but he needed something to power up the disease and make it flourish, but he couldn't find anything that powerful. Until the dark gods gave him an effective hint. You.

Although you had killed yourself to run away from him and the world he was going to shape to his desires, he had revived you with help of his vast knowledge and as a punishment, he had made you witness the process of the disease spreading through the dark lands and for the extra effect of it, he had infected you as well. You hoped you'd die but no! You were his blessed concubine and he didn't want to lose you, the only person that had let him taste the pleasures of the mortals again. So you were given the cure for the disease but the process was painfully slow and it took a mental toll on you.

"Hiding won't help my dear...you know you have to serve me soon..." he said as he wiped the medicine off of your skin so he could apply a fresh layer on. "W-what do you mean?" You asked in shock when you pulled the covers away quickly, to meet his grinning face. "You have to serve me, my dear Y/N, you know you can not refuse me..." he said as he arched his brow at you, making your stomach turn in disgust. "Never! I won't touch a monster like you!" He chuckled at your refusal as he applied for the medicine gently. "We will see...we will see..."

"Why are you doing this to me? What did I do to you?" You said as your voice trembled. "You tried to take away the flavor of my life my dear...you need to be punished for being selfish..." "Oh I'm being selfish or you who killed who knows how many people just to clean the face of the dark lands from the taint of humanity?" He didn't give you a response, but the pressure he applied on your foot as he was wrapping it up with bandages made you whimper in pain. "You are still naive, you can not see the world the way I do. Your mortal mind is like a child's compared to mine, I'm not blaming you for being naive...but doing something reckless like taking your life is what infuriates me."

"I'll take my life again!" You hissed "And I will show you why the royalty is afraid of me!" "Why do you care about my life? You just said I'm nothing more than a naive mortal!" He sighed as if he was arguing with a child, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he just put your foot down and stood up. Leaving your side. You watched as he walked away, looking out of the window. "Life as a vampire, without something to cherish, is bland..." he started "It is indeed a gift to live forever, but this eternal life comes with a price...you'd lose your taste to what you enjoyed before, you'd reach a point where you can tell you know everything and after that, the world seems boring and you want to amuse yourself."

He turned to you "Either by debauchery or finding the one that dark gods have chosen for you a vampire can enjoy their life...and I was blessed by the gods to find my chosen one..." you clenched your fist on the covers as he spoke...was...was it true? You must have been cursed or something! Why? Why him out of all people? "I don't expect you to understand, but I'd like to warn you, my dear...don't ever try to take what is mine! And your life, your body and soul...belongs to me!" His words echoed in your mind as you cried, ignoring the burning sensation of your tears on your scared skin. You could hear the mischievous laughter of the dark gods when you closed your ears to not see your master anymore, they had cursed you and you were fully aware of it.

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