#specifically because it offended their religion | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astralnymphh · 7 months

Text

patterned palmistry ⋆ | ellie williams headcanons

༺ ellie x witch!reader headcanons/scenarios ༻ ☽𖤐☾

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

an: being the witchy little gremlin i am i just had to throw some hcs together for myself but ofc i'd share them here🙄ive been practicing witchcraft since i was 15 so it felt fitting to incorporate it whenever i brace my delusions at the bootycrack of midnight that r all abt ellie 💀 regardless this def isnt gonna be my only witchy hcs post i just didnt wanna spoil all my ideas right away <3 tags: MDNI, slight nsfw (no detailed smut), boob jokes, witchcraft (obv), tarot, palm reading, mostly convos, flirting, not mentioned in the writing but u 2 r alrdy dating, playful bickering, more natural casual writing with some bigger words, no specific religion tied to the practice, generally a fluff piece, lowk cute moments. °________________________⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆__________________________°

I. ☆ ellie definitely had a peak in curiosity the first time you mentioned you immerse yourself in the world of the craft, her ears perked figuratively and were tuned in to learn what that entails. she may not forfeit a nip of skepticism right away but she's more than happy to engross herself in the idea of it. you'd stay up till first light rambling on about the 'rituals', 'divination', the history tied to it and why you practice it. you'd be lying in bed adjacent to her, heavenward to the ceiling, but interwoven in a warm and loving cuddle with her palm residing on your lap whilst you chatted.

"mmmmh-" ellie's hum churns 'round your bedroom, "so that's why you collect rocks."

"crystals."

"same thing," she drones an inwardly giggle, "which crystal will give me superpowers?" a witty remark springs from her tongue.

"babe.." you pout, acting offended yet none is taken.

"didn't mean it like that, y'know I believe you, it's all just new to me." ellie tapes an assuring kiss to your temple, "tell me about your favorite crystals, hmm?"

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

II. ☆ now because of this, anytime you're out on patrol and delight the opportunity of scavenging, she always keeps in mind to find you flowers, rocks, unused candles and other oddities of nature.

"hey babe! I found a black candle for'ya." ellie bolstered a long glass cylinder filled with an opaque charcoal wax, wick still intact, "and- ..some wild lavender." her other arm swings from behind her back, twines of dusty purple lavender upheld in a pinch.

"fuck yeah, needed this stuff.." you graciously tweak the lavender from her, whiffing up its poignant scent.

"always on the lookout.." her voice resembles her proud countenance outwards, essentially, a dorky smirk.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

III. ☆ obviously, the second you mentioned the art of tarot to her, she begged for a reading. whenever a card flew from your shuffling motions, she'd patiently wait for you to place it before her and then she'd swipe it up and admire the art piece detailing the cardstock.

"whew! look at the boobs on this one!"

"oh- my god, of course you'd point that out." you snatch the card from her, shamelessly ogling the nude depiction that had her attention.

"you're looking at them too!"

"cuz' you said something 'bout it!" you flick the card towards her face, noting, "those are some nice boobs though."

"why thank you~"

"wasn't talking about you, idiot!"

"eh, but.. urs' are the best." her hoarse tone binds a nonchalant flirtiness in its rumble.

"oh really? should we compare the.. four?"

that really stole her attention.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

IV. ☆ the first time you entertained her with a palm reading, it had her all dappy and touched to the essence at the paltry contact you made with her hand. your fingerprints drafting her calloused palms with such a gentle focus on every river lining her hand. she just wanted to smother you with kisses.

"and… this is your heart line." your finger hovers the crevice of her palm-pads stretching from index to pinkie, "ah.. it's a broken one.."

"is that.. bad?" her juniper eyes study your expression meticulously.

"it just means u're closed off, stubborn, have some emotional trauma.. stuff like that." you mindlessly fiddle with her fingers, "lines can change though, so.."

she nods, taking in the insight. she licks her slightly chapped lips clean, "am I stubborn?" her voice rises partially an octave, bending playfulness in her question.

"mm.. no."

"why'd you hesitate?"

"well- the only times ur' stubborn is refusing to let go whenever you hug me- ur' a life-size sloth!"

"I like huggin' you though." a puppy pout frowns on her lips, "you're like a pillow!"

and oh, how your heart capers a beat, "is that all I am, williams?"

her swift speech conjuncts, "whaddid' I say about that name?!"

"I don't know, I think you like it."

"nuh-uh I don't!"

you pepper a haste kiss to her knuckles still forcepped in your clasp, totally deterring the crime you've just committed when a half impish half taken aback smile creaks her lips.

"c'mere." vaults from her tongue before she lunges her body forward and tackles you in a saucy position riddled with love bites. guess you'll be reading her palms in a different way tonight.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ V. ☆ an bonus hc, you'd totally mention out of the void about her tattoo n the mystic meanings surrounding moths, like, its for sure one of the topics you'll ramble about one night cause you just feel so wise for knowing. "y'know, moths play a pretty large role in the metaphysical world." "really? i mean, i knew they had some kind of.. 'symbolism' to them-" ellie's hand rolls over the knoll of her forearm, reading the bumps glamoured in that beautiful inking. "yeah, like- luna moths represent transformation, renewal.. oh! and death-head moths are an omen of death.. an- and black witch moths mean either good luck, or bad-" ellie is amused at your prattle shown by her raspy giggles, legitimately having to conceal her scrunched face. "what?" "nothin' you- you're just so cute." "stop.." the embarrassment catches up to you, now having to hide your face to the shadows beneath your hands. her finger cranes out to hook and uncover your nerdy grin, assuring, "never stop tellin' me bout this stuff, ok babe?" a wide delighted beam syncs on her cheeks. goddess above, her dimples and nasal lines are to die for. ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

𖤐

in general; she's a curious dork n will ask you oh so many questions, i mean, she loves space and a futuristic sci-fi comic for crying out loud, she's alrdy so imaginative so ofc she'd be open to a realistic amount. she'd also be so respectful and helpful n defend ur practice with so much love. maybe she'd pick up some little traditions and customs like folding letters a specific amount of times, drawing little pentacles, mixing liquid in specific directions, just the simple things that grow on her.

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #lesbian #sapphic #ellie williams headcanons #ellie smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x witch #ellie headcanons #tlou headcanons

437 notes · View notes

mylight-png · 5 months

Text

Hi I have a hot take after seeing too much TikTok bullshit.

Islam and Christianity are religions of appropriation.

This is something that bothered me for a while but specifically came to my attention after seeing a TikTok where someone made the joke that the Christian pride flag is just the colors of Joseph's coat, based on the musical about it.

And fine, maybe that is a little funny. But the story of Joseph and his coat isn't Christian. It was Jewish first. It's still Jewish. Fine, they believe in it too (because they originally broke off from Judaism) but to claim it's Christian like that just rubbed me the wrong way.

So so so many people claim that Prince Of Egypt is a Christian "Bible movie" except it isn't. Or at the very least, it shouldn't be. Because it isn't Christian, it's Jewish. The Christians weren't led out of Egypt by G-d's hand. It was us, the Jews.

I know I seem petty, these are just movies, just musicals, and to some they are just stories. But this removal of Judaism from originally Jewish texts feeds into a larger problem.

Why do Muslims and Christians care at all about Israel? About Jerusalem, specifically? It's because they took our Torah and made it their "old testament" and claim it is the root of their religion. They claim they have equal, if not greater at times, claim to the land they only care about because we care about it.

If these religions were not Abrahamic then they wouldn't give a crap about Moses or Israel or Joseph's coat.

Any claim that any of the stories (for lack of a better word) from the Torah are Muslim or Christian is appropriation. Sorry not sorry. They were Jewish first, are Jewish now, and will forever be Jewish.

Can people of other Abrahamic faiths believe in them? I don't give a shit, I won't tell them what to believe, it's their religion. But they have no right to claim those stories as their own. To believe them and to claim them is vastly different.

When sharing in a culture that isn't your own, it's generally acknowledged to be wrong if you say that it's now part of your culture. Because it isn't. It still belongs to the original culture you took it from.

And since they do believe in the Jewish texts and claim them as their own, they are appropriating Judaism.

Shortly after October 7th, when my mom was talking to a coworker about what was going on, her coworker lamented the safety of the sacred sites. She said nothing of my mom's family living there, even though she knew. She, as a Christian, felt more entitled to care about the "sacred sites" (sacred to them because the land was first sacred to us) than about the Jewish blood being spilled.

I've said it before, to them, Jewish blood is cheap. And this appropriation only serves to cheapen it further.

This appropriation and entitlement has been an issue throughout history. The Crusades, the taxes on Jews for not being Muslim, this repeated and continued oppression of Jews under the justification of the other two Abrahamic religions, it's because those other groups feel entitled to our heritage, because they believe they're the ones "doing it right" and say we're doing it wrong even though what they do has strayed so far from their origins that such a claim is absurd.

I do not think Christians and Muslims should convert to Judaism. We don't encourage conversion (we accept y'all, but we aren't a proselytizing religion, not meant to offend Jewish converts).

What I am saying, however, is that Muslims and Christians should back the hell off from any claim to anything within their religion that is originally Jewish. And yes, that includes their entitlement to Israel and Jerusalem, and any and all "Biblical" stories that originated in the Torah. Those aren't Muslim or Christian, they're Jewish.

Again, I don't give a shit what people believe or practice, but what I am saying is for people to start giving credit where credit is due, and to back off from claiming other people's cultures and religions as reasons for your own entitlement.

Hell, I'm not even saying that only Jews can live in Israel. Anyone can live there now and that's fine. The issue is more so when claims start that Israel is equally important to all of us, or that Jews have no claim to the land. First, you care about it only because we did, that's not equal importance. And second, whether you like it or not, Jews are from Judea. We always have been, are, and always will be indigenous to Israel.

So yeah. Back off. Believe and practice what you want, but back off of what was ours first.

...

If this gets too much hate I'll just delete it tbh. It's a hot take and I recognize that the truth isn't for everyone.

#jewish #jumblr #judaism #jew #opinion #oops angry rant

364 notes · View notes

moghedien · 2 months

Text

the curse of being interested in religion academically is that the number of people you can genuinely talk to about it is extremely small because people who are religious will often take the interest as like a path to proselytize to you and are only interested in that, or will be offended if you try to talk about like historical sources in an honest way that doesn't cater to their specific beliefs. and a large number of atheists are only interested in it because they want to debunk Christianity or Judaism or Islam (the latter two often for bigoted reasons and the first one because they're mad at their upbringing).

like the line you have to walk on if you're interested in religion but not interested in personal religiousness in yourself or others is sooooo maddeningly thin

87 notes · View notes

ayeforscotland · 24 days

Note

What is it with old firm football culture in Scotland that microwaves peoples brains? Growing up my dad got into Rangers FC really hard like would throw himself on the sword for Rangers, even joined the orange order in the 90s which I despised.

He got out of that stuff, joined the SNP years later but he still falls back into it, even hating when anyone says anything negative about rangers or offends rangers fans, even quit the SNP because of McCoist lately.

But thinking back over the years, how did this crap get so bad and why is our football culture so toxic compared to other countries, at least England don't throw religion into the mix, they just want a punch up for the fun of it.

Just intense tribalism and sectarianism. I'm not a fan of football, never really cared for it.

McCoist coming out with his "I'll be committing hate crimes with 40,000 fans at Ibrox this weekend" and then backpedalling like fuck and saying he's no longer going was funny as hell.

Was scrolling through my mutuals on here the other day, and saw someone who now despises the SNP specifically over the hate crime bill, misinformation about it is absolutely wild.

48 notes · View notes

jewish-vents · 4 days

Note

I can't with this anymore uhhhhhhggggg

"AITAH for creating a private doc to keep notes on what my racist teacher said"

I have this teacher who said a lot of shit (eg. "Ashkenazi people were Europeans forcefully converted by invading Jews", "the Torah mentions Jesus and Mohammed", "Judaism started in Ethiopia because it's the oldest religion and therefore must come from where all people do", "getting angry at Houthis for attacking Israel is like getting angry at a l*nched man for struggling on the noose", etc.). No one cared that she said these things besides a boy she kept deadnaming, a girl who she used as an example talking about slave r*pe, and a kid who she humiliated in front of the class a few times.

When I reported this shit to the dean he was concerned as fuck and 100000% on my side because he's really cool. And to report the stuff, I'd been using a private google doc to keep track of what she'd said. The principal though was overly optimistic and decided instead of talking to the teacher in private, she would hold a class discussion! Yaaaaaaayyyyyyy. I was less than pleased by this, and at the discussion most people took her side. I eventually decided to share the doc with the other three kids so I could get better firsthand accounts.

But then the doc started spreading.

One of the other kids shared it with this boy who she used to mock and throw under the bus, and he shared it with his friend. Who shared it with another friend. Things went like whisper-down-the-lane until someone, I don't know WHO, got a hold of it and shared it to the whole. Fucking. Class. Including the teacher. People started claiming the doc was Islamophobic and didn't elaborate why, and saying we were only "attacking" the teacher because she was Muslim. Or that we only reported this stuff to get drama and attention. The principal herself even said that this was happening because we have varying cultures, which is BS because I have plenty of Muslim friends who have never said ANY of the shit this lady has. That is waaaayyyy more Islamophobic of a statement and I felt offended on my friends' behalf with that one.

I feel bad for the teacher for seeing that doc, but then again, I myself am suffering because someone leaked all my personal opinions to the class. I'm a super conflict avoidant person because I have severe ADHD and OCD and mild autism (ASD1, to be specific), and I hate being involved. I want to sympathize for her. I really do. But when asked to apologize for what she said, she started defending herself and saying we were all closed-minded for not thinking what we previously thought was wrong. My mom wants to take me out of the class to do an independent study project so I can pass the required course without being in that classroom. Because nothing gets in the way of Jewish parents. Especially during Passover.

My classmates are saying she's a sweet lady and it was wrong of us to get upset at her, so are we the bad guys and/or am I overreacting to this scenario.

Anon I'm going to be very honest here. You are absolutely NTA here. And you're not overreacting at all. Your teacher is being very offensive, not to mention historically wrong.

And the doc? If she didn't want to have her offensive opinions called out in front of everyone, maybe she should stop being offensive.

I'm going to say, personally if she were my teacher the doc would be the least of her problems. She would not like me very much.

I hope you're safe tho, you and the other students she's hurt. You don't deserve to be treated like this

-🐺

#jewish vents #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism

35 notes · View notes

firstknightvulion · 13 days

Text

Now, there is some discourse regarding Minthara and her romance. Specifically, that it feels out of character for her to romance a Masculine presenting Tav. I respectfully disagree.

Minthara is all about power. Ya gotta prove yourself to her. Be vicious and direct. She don’t give a hoot about your gender identity, she’s looking at your kill streak.

But it did give me an idea. Minthara has spoken about going back to Menzoberranzan and burning that fucker to the ground to spite Lolth (paraphrasing). My Seladrine Drow Tav (half Drow/half moon elf) would join her because he’s got a hate boner for the religion of Lolth that’s been turgent since his family and friends were killed by a Lolth Warband’s attack on his Eilistraeen compound.

Now, I imagine her first target would be her house. Minthara would want to twist the knife. Make them suffer.

Minthara’s Mother stands in the great hall of her house. Two of her daughters stand by her side. They are the last of their house. Hours before a shadow descended into their home and started systematically killing every living thing inside.

The great doors to the hall fly open with an explosion. Shrapnel and smoke fill the space. A heart beat later, two arrows fly through the air with deadly intent. They find their marks in the two daughters. One is hit through the eye, she drops instantly. The other is struck in the throat. She does not die quickly. She gurgles and grasps at her throat, feebly trying to stop the escaping blood. Her hands fall limp as the sound of deliberate footsteps fill the hall.

Minthara’s Mother looks away from her daughters’ corpses and up at the dark figure walking towards her. It is dressed in Drow leathers, a hood and mask covering the face. Two green eyes stare at her from shadow of the hood.

Minthara’s Mother: What pit spawned you!?

A chuckle is heard from behind the figure, a deep and dangerous sound. Minthara walks in, blood and a wicked smile painting her face.

Minthara: Hello, mother.

MM: Minthara?! You heretical traitor! Why haven’t you had the decency to die?!

Minthara: The Spider Bitch’s webs will burn, mother. The house Baenre will be the first of the kindling.

MM: You would have us become ash for the sake of such blasphemy?! Deeper and deeper you fall into a pit of shame!

Minthara: To feel shame, I would need to feel remorse. I assure you, mother, I feel only joy. The fact that you were cast down by one so low shall keep warm and smiling for many decades to come.

Minthara pulls back the figures hood. The scared face of Drow male greets her. His eyes a green and while sporting the dark skin of a Drow, it is very pale, almost ashen.

Minthara: This male is of the traitors that stole away to the surface to follow Eilistraee!

MM: How?! How were we defeated by such an inferior being?!

Minthara: Stealth is very broken in this game, mother.

Tav: Minthara! The fourth wall!

Minthara: He was conceived by a loving union that bridged the gap between Drow and our surface kin! In the missionary position!

MM: *gasps*

Tav: *giving Minthara a very confused look*

Minthara: He is not only a third son, he is a sixth son! You were beaten by a third son times two!

MM: *clutches her metaphorically pearls*

Tav: *is an only child but knows enough of Menzoberranzan culture to be slightly offended*

Minthara: He is my romantic partner! I treat him as an equal!

Tav, somehow, feels the sensation of someone vomiting in his thoughts.

MM: You disgust the Spider Queen! Next you’ll tell me you don’t even peg him!

Tav: No, she does.

Minthara: Mother, please. I’m a genocidal conqueror, I’m not debased.

Suddenly, Minthara pulls the sword out of the scabbard hanging from Tav’s back. Within a blink of an eye, it is driven through her mother’s chest. Minthara leaves it embedded in her mother’s body half the blade sticking out of her back. With a gasp, she falls over.

Minthara: *kneeling down to whisper in her mother’s ear* The blade is of Eilistraee. Fitting, don’t you think, mother?

Minthara stands, throwing her head back and raising her arms, as if soaking up sunlight. She begins to laugh.

Minthara: The first conquest is done.

She walks over to the Matriarch’s throne and sits down.

Minthara: Come, fuck me.

Tav: Now?

Minthara: What better time and place than this? My former house is ended, my mother dead-

Tav: She’s not dead.

Minthara: What?

Tav: Still gurgling.

Minthara: Oh, for the love of-she can’t be long for this world.

Tav: Do you want to wait? I don’t want to pull out the blade in case that kills her. I’ll be hearing about taking the honor of killing the mother for years after.

Minthara: No, I don’t want to wait!

Minthara quickly jogs over and pulls the sword out of her mother’s chest. She plunges it in again, hitting the ground underneath. With pure malice in her eyes, her mother reaches up to clutch Minthara’s leg.

Tav: Wow, she is resilient.

Minthara: Enough of this!

Ripping the sword out of her mother’s chest, Minthara makes a wild swing and cut the Drow’s head clean off. The pair watch it roll down the length of the hall. Before another snarky comment can leave his lips, Minthara’s mouth collides with his. They stand, kissing, amongst the skeleton of Minthara’s old home for several moments.

Minthara: Come, there is a duty to which you must attend.

Tav: You have a thing for thrones, don’t you?

Honestly, I should get an Ao3 account cause my posts are looking like fanfiction chapters.

This post was all to get to that line Minthara says about the sixth son. That and the 4th wall break.

#funny #shitpost #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #minthara x tav #bg3 minthara #bg3 tav #drow elf #dnd drow #black comedy #dark humor

23 notes · View notes

ancestralsurvival · 2 months

Text

A Christian friend once asked me what my temple had to say about Jesus.

“Nothing?” I was confused. “Why would we talk about Jesus?”

“Because he’s Jesus.” Her confusion was as apparent as mine. “Shouldn’t you talk about the son of God?”

“We … don’t believe that.” I didn’t want to offend her, but I wanted to be clear. “We talk about our own religion in our own religious spaces.”

Recent news about how antisemitism can be baked into aspects of Christianity and the Muslim religions has me thinking about that conversation. It makes sense, of course, that these religions that came after Judaism would reference their religious forebear, though I remain frustrated that people believe the context of another religion would give them understanding of a religion that is rejected by the religion proving the “context.”

And, as it turns out, years later, during the height of the seeming ubiquity of WWJD bracelets (for those outside the US or too young to remember, “WWJD” stands for “What Would Jesus Do?” and people wore WWJD bracelets to remind them to keep Jesus’ values in their minds and hearts, and this spawned increasingly specific questions as to how Jesus would approach various aspects of modern-day life), my rabbi did mention Jesus at temple.

“People ask ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ ‘What Would Jesus Drive?’ ‘What Would Jesus Eat?’ Well, we know the answer to that last one.” The rabbi smiled. “Kosher food!”

He then led us in the HaMotzi.

#jumblr #antisemitism #diaspora jewery #kashrut #i don’t even know

22 notes · View notes

withlovewriting · 9 months

Text

All I Ever Knew, Only You 1: Bye Bye, Benny

Chapter One.

You were riding your bike to the sound of ‘It’s No Big Deal’, And you’re trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels, Nothing ‘bout the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming till now, So you tie up your hair and you smile like it’s no big deal.

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities, and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 4,983

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, alcohol abuse, child abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, typical season 1 mean-girl Steve and his little gang of assholes. An offensive term to specific religion, i guess. Also apologies, first chapters are awkward and just plot building but there ya go.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize... ‘wait a damn minute...’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

Next Chapter

Masterlist

(art)

Chapter One: Bye Bye, Benny.

Your legs moved faster than ever before, calves crying out in pain as your lungs burned, feeling like you hadn’t taken a proper breath in forever. But you still continued to push forward, dodging the oncoming vehicle and pedestrians as best you could. A car slammed on their breaks, horn blaring through the bustling streets during the late evening causing you to wobble slightly, hands gripping the handle bars of your bike so tightly you were sure you’d be able to pull them off completely.

Once you had regained your balance, you held up a hand, a silent sorry to the passing car as the driver shouted obscenities that you didn’t have time to be offended by. Just as you passed the coroners office, a loud whoop, whoop sounded behind you, the red and blue lights lighting up the ever darkening evening.

Shit, you mumbled to yourself, head darting around to watch as the officer stuck his hand out of the window, flagging you down. Well, you were definitely going to be late now.

Stopping alongside the side walk, one dirty converse perched on the curb to balance yourself, you waited as he slowly approached you, taking his sweet time. Of course, it wouldn’t be Callahan, the man gullible enough that you could easily spin a tale and get yourself out of this quickly, or even officer Powell, the man much more commanding than the former yet still not as assertive — or nosy — as the man in the unsightly beige uniform that was walking towards you.

“Kid, do you know how recklessly you were riding?”

Tilting your head backwards, face scrunched up slightly, you tried to suppress the annoyance that was bound to seep through your voice, “Hop, listen-”

“You almost caused two separate road traffic accidents, and don’t even think I didn’t see you almost wipe out Mrs. Lloyd.”

“Hopper, I-”

“I should take this damn thing off you, throw it in the junk yard where it belongs. Looks like this piece of shit is falling apart.”

“Are you gonna give me a ticket? Because if you are, can we speed this thing along and maybe save the whole responsibility talk for next time.”

Raising a brow, Jim sent you an incredulous look, “Next time?”

Rolling your eyes, you finally released the pent up, frustrated sigh, “ You know what I mean.”

Mumbling under his breath, Jim took off his slightly off-color hat before gripping his leather belt, hands firm on his hips, “Look, kid. You’re on a bike, which means you’re not gonna win any fight you decide to pick that day with a car. You might not give a shit, but I could really do without the extra paperwork. So stop riding like you’ve just robbed a bank.”

Nodding along with the man, you hoped your silent agreement would make this exchange go by at least a little quicker.

“I’m giving you a verbal warning, alright? If I have even one more complaint about a delinquent teenage cyclist bowling over old ladies in the street, I’ll personally arrest you myself and make you fill out the complaints paperwork. Got it?”

“Got it, chief.”

You couldn’t help but imagine how boring his job must be — especially since moving back from New York — to even bother with a cycling non-incident.

“Now, grab you bike and throw it in the back, if you’re in such a rush my car will get you there a lot quicker than that rusted piece of junk.”

Doing as he said, you then joined him in the car, the man glaring at you until you remembered to buckle your seat belt. Eventually, he pulled away, and you directed him towards Oak street.

“So, hows your Mom doing?”

His comment was meant to come off as flippant, uninterested in your actual answer and just trying to fill the silence. But you’d had your fair share of interactions with Jim Hopper since he crawled back to Hawkins in 1979, as had your mother.

He’d vehemently deny it if he was ever asked, but Jim Hopper — in all of his gruff, cynical glory — had a soft underbelly. He didn’t care about much any more. Not his job, not himself, nor any family, but in the few months he’d had some kind of relationship with your mother, he had unwittingly taken on a role in your life that had been missing for so, so long. So, what did it matter if he checked in every now and then?

Shuffling uncomfortably, you peered out of the passenger window, hoping he wouldn’t push too hard, “She’s fine. Got a cold, at the moment, so…Can’t exactly make it into work right now.”

“You’re covering for her again? You really shouldn’t be out late, and especially not on a school night-”

“She’s not well, Hop. A lecture won’t pay the bills.”

Despite reading between the lines, Hopper shut his mouth, even for just a moment before changing the subject, “No car tonight?”

“Mom forgot to get gas after work last night.”

“I thought she was too ill to work.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you couldn’t have been more happy to see the shitty, run down bar you’d be spending the next couple of hours. Barely letting the man come to a full stop, you hopped out of the car before struggling to pull your bike out of the trunk without scuffing the police vehicle,

“Thanks for the ride, Hop.”

As if it took him a moment to realize you’d even exited the car, he quickly rolled down his window, “You’re not even old enough to be in there-”

It was safe to say your ride home from covering your mother’s shift wasn’t as fast paced, or exciting, as your previous journey.

You felt exhausted after a long day working at the arcade, revising for a stupid chemistry test that Mr. Kaminsky seemed determined to make half of the class fail, and then rushing like a mad man toward The Hideout, a long 6 hour shift bussing tables for old men who seemingly had boundary issues when it came to teenage girls. If it wasn’t for Thomas, the owner, you might’ve had another run in with the chief, certain you’d of stuck a fork through one of Mr Hanson’s wandering hands.

Turning down Morehead Street, you were almost relieved to be home. Almost.

All you wanted to do was shower off the smell of stale beer and greasy burgers and flop into bed. This wasn’t exactly how you’d wanted to spend your Sunday.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the lurking feeling of uneasiness crawled up your throat, the familiar, yet uncertain apprehension causing you to slow to a stop outside of the large, blue house that sat at the other end of your street. Hauntingly intimidating, the formidable house had sat abandoned since before you were even born. Children would often dare each other to play ding-dong-ditch, especially around Halloween, but nobody to your knowledge had actually made it much further than the path that led toward the rotten porch stairs. It had been boarded up since before you could remember, and nobody seemed all that bothered to disrupt it, the memories of what happened there more than two decades ago settled like the dust that was sure to line the floorboards inside.

Despite the desolate appearance in the daytime, the house only looked even more daunting in the shadows that lingered in the night, crawling their way over the house to leave it in almost total darkness.

Swallowing down the lump of uneasiness, you placed your foot back onto the pedal, ready to push off when you heard something. Your head swiveled back toward the large house, eyes wide and inquisitive, certain you’d heard voices.

Maybe the teenagers of Hawkins had finally become brave enough to step forth into the house, or maybe it was the ghosts of the slain family. Either way, you weren’t hanging around to find out, cycling home a little faster than before as you willed yourself to not peer back at the house for one last look, too worried about what, or who, you might find staring back.

Leaving your bike in the front yard — it was Hawkins, after all and the only thing more boring than the teenagers in this town, was the workload, or lack thereof, for the police — you quietly made your way up the creaky, half-rotten porch steps, all too aware of the television blaring so loudly from the living room that you could hear it from outside.

After taking a moment to prepare yourself, you finally pushed the door open, silently grumbling about how your mother always left it unlocked, regardless the time of day. Creeping toward the archway leading to the living room, you caught sight of your mother slumped on the sofa, eyes heavy from more than just sleep, but somehow still conscious. Stepping into the room, you called out for her, hoping she’d hear you over the loud laughter from whatever bullshit show she was half-watching.

“Mom?”

Her head turned, eyebrows raised as if she was surprised anyone had entered the house at all, before her glossed over eyes narrowed, pointing the empty bottle in her hand in your direction, “Where the hell have you been?”

It took everything in you not to release a frustrated sigh, telling her that you had in fact been covering her shift in order to guarantee you’d be able to keep the heating on this month. Winter in Indiana was a bitch and you were certain neither of you would survive another year without at least a mildly-warm house.

“I was working, Mom. C’mon, lets get you to bed-”

“Were you late? Cause you know they dock my wage by a whole hour if you’re even a fuckin’ minute late.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shook your head, avoiding her eyes, “No, Mom. I wasn’t late. I-”

“Fuckin’ liar!” Standing, your mother wobbled on uncertain legs much like a newborn foal as she stumbled toward the telephone, where the answering machine blinked a devious, betraying red. Your mother almost looked too happy that she’d caught you in a lie as her clumsy pointer finger pushed hard at the button, playing the message out loud,

‘Rebecca, this is Thomas. You’re late for your shift, again. You better be on your way, I swear to god, this is the last fucking time. And you better not send your kid, again. I’m sick of it, Bec. So unless your face-down in your own vomit somewhere, you better be in work within the next 10 minutes, or- Oh, hey sweetheart-’

Bottle still in hand, your mother floundered toward you, nose scrunched in annoyance and distrust, as if you’d lied to her about something so much worse, like smashing up the car, or god forbid, pouring one of her beloved bottles down the kitchen sink.

Thankfully, by the time she reached you, she’d not only half forgotten what she was mad about, but wouldn’t be able to work out which one of you she saw to swing at. So instead, you took her gently by the shoulders, ushering her toward her bedroom. She collapsed onto her bed face-first and rather ungraciously her fingertips still gripping the empty bottle as if her life depended on it, and by the time you’d placed a throw blanket over her body, soft snores were already escaping her.

Despite your mother now being out cold, you still closed your bedroom door as quietly as possible, the fear that you’d manage to wake her up too ingrained in you to do anything but.

Keeping the light off, you sprawled out onto your own bed, deciding to forgo the shower and overflowing laundry basket that had been calling out to you most of the week.

Deciding to shower when you awoke in the morning, you didn’t have a choice but to drive your mother’s old Fiat Brava to school, knowing you’d be late otherwise.

Grumbling at yourself for not finding time to do the laundry, you dug deep into your drawers, trying to find something both suitable for school, knowing half of the clothes were creeping up on being too small for you. But money was sparse in your household, and an oversized jacket that you were yet to grow into had sufficed so far.

Pulling out a blue blouse that you absolutely knew was too small, meaning you would be pulling down the sleeves all day in an attempt to stop them ending up halfway up your forearm, you knew it would have to do.

Leaving with barely enough time to fill up the coffee pot in hopes your mother would be drawn to the bitter smell rather than the temptation of the alcohol cupboard, you remained just under the speed limit, gnawing at your lip for the entirety of the drive.

School was dragging by, every minute feeling like an hour, and you knew clock-watching wouldn’t help, the gentle tick, tick, tick lulling you into a drowsy mess as you tried your best to keep your attention on your school work.

Making your way toward your locker, ready to dump half of your books out and enjoy your free period sleeping in the library, you saw Barb staring off down the hallway, her eyebrows pulled together as she watched Nancy turn the corner in a hurry.

“Everything OK?” You asked, causing her to jump slightly, head whipping toward you.

Relaxing as she realized it was you, she released an annoyed sigh, “It’s like he calls and she goes running. Literally.”

“You mean Harrington?”

“She’s still denying they’re even a thing.”

Your eyes remained in the direction of where Nancy had disappeared to, the hallways clearing out as people prepared for their next lesson, “Nancy’s a smart girl. She knows what he’s like.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Barb sighed, pushing her glasses to sit a little higher on the bridge of her nose, “He’s gonna use her, and dump her, and she’ll end up hurt. Just like every other girl he’s dated.”

“Dated is a very loose term,” you joked, Converse heel digging into the hard floor when Barb didn’t quite appreciate the joke, “He’ll get bored eventually, alright? He always does. But Nancy’s not an idiot. I highly doubt she really thinks he’s gonna be the love of her life, or even her date to prom if his reputation is anything to go by.”

When Barb remained silent, her top teeth worrying at her bottom lip you sighed, “Hey, if he hurts her, we can always key his car. Or set his hair on fire. God knows it’s got enough product in it to go up like a bonfire.”

That, at least, caused a smile to pull at Barb’s lips. Feeling satisfied that you’d at least kind of cheered the girl up, you left your friend with a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making your way down the long hallway.

Pushing the bathroom door open, you came to a halt almost right away, body colliding with the same person you’d just been shit talking for the last five minutes.

“Watch where you’re going-”

Scoffing at the boy, you pushed him away slightly, “This is the girl’s restroom, nimrod. You watch where you’re going.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve lent back against the wall slightly, hands grasped at his hips, “Nice shirt, but I think you’re shopping in the wrong age department of the Goodwill.”

“Says the person wearing a polo. Mommy pick it out at the GAP?”

Your stand off would’ve continued for much longer, had the second bell not have rung. Grabbing his yellow gym bag from the floor, he brushed past you with an annoyed glare, “It’s a vintage H R Robinson’s.”

God, he was such an ass.

Word about Will Byers’ disappearance had spread around town quicker than the time Mrs. Hunt’s husband had been caught balls deep in his receptionist at the local car dealership.

After returning home, your mother was nowhere to be found and to say you spent your night pacing around and doing absolutely anything to take your mind off the fact she was gone, was an understatement.

Your laundry was washed, dried and shoved back into your drawers, homework finished in record time and by 9pm you were certain you were a chemistry master. At least, you would’ve been, had any of the information stuck in your brain, instead using your notes as nothing more than a distraction.

So when the sound of shoes kicking up rocks and unsettling the gravel on your driveway roused you from your light sleep, you felt your heart finally settle back down to a normal speed as your mother carelessly stumbled down the path, slamming the front door shut behind her — still not learning to lock it — before making her way to her own bedroom.

Peering at your clock, the illuminating numbers spelled out 4am, causing you to release a long sigh before rolling over, hoping that you wouldn’t sleep through your alarm, less so for the fear of being late to school, and more-so for the fear of your mother’s hungover wrath if it woke her up instead.

Shoving a few books into your locker, you felt too mentally drained to even bother with the chemistry test, and if it didn’t count for half of your grade that semester, then you probably would’ve skipped.

The doors at the end of the corridor opened, the cool November wind slipping in behind a head of brown, scraggly hair, and you felt your heart plummet. Closing your locker, you heaved your half-empty messenger bag over your body and made your way towards the boy,

“Hey, Jonathan.”

The boy peered back at you, a strained smile on his face as he struggled holding everything in his hands and attempting to pin one of the papers to the board, “Oh, hey.”

Taking the papers from under his arm, you tried to send him a reassuring smile, “I, uh… I heard about Will. He’s a smart kid… He’ll be back soon, he’s probably just… hiding out, you know.”

Jonathan’s smile grew meeker, “Yeah… Yeah, I’m sure he will. It’s just not like him, you know? He’s not the kind of kid to just run off.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, eyes peering down at one of the many sheets you held for him, the boy’s smile wide and genuine. You didn’t know, though. You felt like you barely knew Jonathan, let alone Will. The eldest of the siblings, you’d met during your quick stint working at the cinema down town. You had similar music taste, bonding over your disdain for the popular kids in school, and he’d even taught you how to properly change the pump for the buttered popcorn. Your job there had only lasted a few months, but your friendship with Jonathan had lasted a lot longer. But it wasn’t like you two sat around braiding each others hair.

He was quiet and meek, whilst you were indifferent and aberrant. At least, that’s what your mother had always called you. You had perfected the art of acting like you didn’t care, and Jonathan seemed to not care at all. He kept to himself, and that’s how he liked it. You had bulldozed your way into his life, pouring flat half-cups of Coca-Cola and stale barely buttered popcorn and given him no real chance but to accept your sudden appearance. He took it in his stride, at least. But he remained quiet and shy, nonetheless.

“Hey,” a small, familiar voice called from behind you. Turning, you both send Nancy a small smile. Handing the papers back to the boy, you gave them space to talk, ready to make your way towards Kaminsky’s classroom in hopes of looking over your notes one last time.

Barb, however, had another idea, her arm halting you mid-stride before you could pass, “How is he?”

Before you could answer, you could hear the snickering of the three people to your left, “Yeah, hows he doing? Heard guilt can really tear a person down from the inside, out.”

Watching as Tommy’s face broke out into a large grin, the boy finding himself all too funny, your eyebrows pulled together in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about, Hagan?”

“He’s talking about the rumor that your boyfriend over there had something to do with his brother’s disappearance,” Steve explained, his eyes still set on his girlfriend, “Might wanna be careful. I wouldn’t be in any rooms alone with him.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms over your chest, eyes darting toward Jonathan, Nancy, their eyes soft and sweet, and then back to Steve, an insolent smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, “I think if anyone needs to be worried, it’s you, Harrington.”

Steve’s dark eyes darted toward you, and you made a point of looking back at his girlfriend, eyebrows raised as the smile broke onto your face. Deciding you’d had enough, you strolled down the hallway, ignoring Steve’s confused calls of your name.

“Absolutely not,” you shook your head, sucking in a deep inhale of smoke, trying your best to aim it away from your friend as you blew it out, “The last thing I intend to do tonight is go to a lame-ass party at Harrington’s house. I’d rather fry my own eyeballs.”

Barb pouted, her eyes widening as they silently pleaded with you, causing you to turn your attention to the cigarette between your fingers,

“You have to come, please. I really, really don’t want to the the 3rd wheel tonight.”

Rolling your eyes at the girl’s dramatics, you sucked in another deep breath, the smoke burning your lungs slightly, “You won’t be a 3rd anything, Carol and Tommy will be there, too.”

“Ugh, 5th wheel, then. Please? I really don’t want to spend my entire evening there alone.”

“And I don’t want to spend even a second of my time there, at all. Why don’t you just tell Nancy no, for once? Put your foot down? I mean, she’ll be swapping spit with Harrington all night either way.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Barb send you an exasperated sigh, “You know I can’t do that.”

Your hand halted mid-way to your mouth, cigarette burning right down to the end, leaving you only faintly aware of the slight pain, but your eyes were focused on Barb. Of course, you knew Barb couldn’t — and wouldn’t — let Nancy go to this party alone. And you knew why, too. But that didn’t mean you had to be dragged along too, did it?

Dropping the butt of your cigarette onto the floor and crushing it with your worn sneaker, you frowned, forehead creasing as you sighed, staring off into the distance, “Oh my god, fine. I’ll go. But only for an hour, and then I’m out.”

Barb had never looked more grateful, pulling you into a strong hug and thanking you a million times.

Unable to not smile back at the girl, you shook your head, “Who even has a party on a Tuesday night?”

The plan was for Barb to pick you up at 8pm, along with Nancy. The girls had told their parents that you would all be studying at the library before sleeping over Nancy’s house. It was only a half-truth at best, and one that needn’t be repeated for your own mother.

Around 5pm you drove out towards Randolph lane, deciding to grab some burgers for yourself and your mother, hoping that it would at least sober her up whenever she wandered in that evening. Grumbling, you realized you still hadn’t topped up on gas, and decided that after you’d hit the gas station before heading home, hoping you still had some change in the car.

Pulling into the parking lot, a frown pulled at your features, dipping your brows towards each other. The lights were shut off, and as you approached the door, you almost bounced right off it, realizing a little too late that it was locked. Jiggling the door handle a few times, you knocked on the glass. Sure, Benny could’ve closed up early… But Benny never closed up early. Not even on week nights. He was always open for the evening rush normally fueled by hungry teens and loitering pre-teens.

“Benny? You in there?” Rasping your knuckles against the door one last time, you huffed, annoyed that your plan of an easy dinner and been thwarted. Before you turned to return to your car, something through the darkened window caught your eye.

It was definitely a figure at the table, but not quiet sat… More-so slumped. Backing away from the window a little too quickly, you stumbled off the deep curb, falling backwards onto the concrete. Eyes wide as you pushed yourself back, you managed to heave yourself up before taking off across the road, heading into the gas station.

The bell rang as the door bounced off the wall, hinges squeaking as the owner, Earl, turned his annoyed glare in your direction, “Careful with the damn door-”

Upon seeing your panicked face, Earl quickly made his way around the counter, brows pulled together in a frown as he held his hands out, “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“I think… I think something’s wrong with Benny-”

“Benny? Benny Hammond? I saw him yesterday, he’s fine-”

Shaking your head, your eyes whipped back toward the diner, “No, I… I don’t know. I came to get dinner, but it’s closed, so I looked through the window and I think… I think I can see him.”

Earl’s eyes darted between yourself and the diner, concern and skepticism evident on his features, “Right. I’m gonna go check it out, you get on the phone to the Sheriff. But I swear to God kid, if this is some stupid teenage prank-”

Perched on the wall just outside the diner, your leg bounced erratically as you waited for Hopper to return from inside. He’d arrived within 30 minutes, Powell to his left and Callahan to his right, and a face stormier than a rain cloud.

It didn’t take 10 minutes after his arrival for the fire department and ambulance to turn up, backdoor open as they carried out a stretcher.

“What happened, kid?” Hopper’s once dour expression had melted away, smoothing out into something slightly softer, though his frown remained. Maybe, after so many years, his face was stuck like that, you wondered.

Shrugging, your teeth worried at your bottom lip for a moment, “I came to get dinner. The door was locked and… Benny never shuts this early.”

Nodding, Hopper scribbled something down on his notepad before turning his attention back to you, swallowing uncomfortably at your tremulous voice, “Then what?”

“I thought it was weird… Knocked on the door a few times, but I didn’t get a response. So I looked through the gap in the curtains and… I don’t know. I saw someone leaning over a table. I didn’t know what was going on so I went and got Earl. He said to call you guys.”

“Alright. Look, I’ll have to take an official statement, but that can wait until tomorrow. Why don’t you-”

Before Hopper could finish his sentence, your attention was pulled away by the door opening, the familiar bell above it ringing like it always did. Two paramedics rolled out the stretcher, a large white sheet stretched across a white, zipped bag. A body bag.

Feeling your stomach lurch half-way up your throat whilst your heart dropped the other way, you couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath, body all but toppling off the wall and thankfully into the arms of Hopper.

Sure, he’d seen a lot of shit during his time in New York, but they had all been strangers and that seemed much easier to disassociate from and get the job done. But Benny… Well, they went way back. They were friends.

Despite Hop’s insistence to not look, you couldn’t help but turn your head, watching as they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance and carted off toward the morgue.

The last suicide in Hawkins had been in October of 1961, and despite not even being born then, you knew all too well about it. It had been your Grandmother, after all.

Crazy old Colette, the town had so lovingly referred to her as. Lost her husband in the war as well as her mind and never got either back. And, of course, instead of helping, the town simply ignored and gossiped, watching as she wandered around town at all hours, jittery and talking to herself, shouting that the ‘end was nigh’.

What was strange, however, was your family weren’t particularly religious. Your mother only worshiped the God she found at the bottom of a bottle, and you couldn’t even guess the last time you’d stepped inside the town’s chapel. Sure, Hawkins had it’s fair share of bible bashers — typically the overprotective PTA moms and their husbands who would frequently break their marriage vows whenever they headed out of town — but your family weren’t exactly known for their love of Jesus Christ. Or any other higher being, for that matter.

You had frequently wondered if that was the start of your mother’s downward spiral, the loss of her father and consequently her mother too, her drinking only exacerbated when your father headed out for a pack of Embassy Gold cigarettes one evening and apparently got lost on his way home, ending up in Georgia, or Colorado, or wherever the hell he was now.

Worse than that, however, was the torment that maybe whatever had caused your Grandmother to lose herself was hereditary, trickling down through the generations of your family right to the very bottom.

To you.

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington smut

60 notes · View notes

loveandlive4eva · 10 months

Text

HOW TO SHIFT TO VOID/DR/IMAGINATION (using yoga nidra!)

[ hi guys! I’ve been researching for ongoing shifting attempts I’ve been doing and I found out about a really interesting meditation/yoga method, yoga nidra, that looks like it could help a lot with visualizing our imaginations/4d and shifting to the void/dr! disclaimer- I’m like not at all an expert on this technique. yoga, or desi culture in general, I literally like just started researching it today, what I hope to do is introduce LOA methodology to some of this technique to help manifestors and shifters in their LOA journeys, if I get anything wrong, offend anyone or if theirs something you’d like to enlighten on, please comment, reblog, or send an ask! ♡ anyways let’s get onto the post ~ ]

so, what is yoga nidra?

[ from my (brief) research, yoga nidra is a yoga technique which allows for access to the states between sleep and waking consciousness, which is relevant to manifestors and shifters because this intermediary state allows for the brain to be more susceptible to allow our subconscious to manifest our dream live and wants. Yoga Nidra is an ancient practice vital to the Hindu religion for millenia, but the specific form of yoga nidra I’ll be discussing was established during the 1970s, and I am mostly going off of the teachings of Satyananda Saraswati (this figure is controversial and is tied to accusations of sexual abuse, I in no way am supporting his actions and only want to share the information he provided with my additions, his action are super, super, gross, don’t support him as a person or financially). The following brackets will be profiling the seven steps needed to achieve the yoga nidra state. Also, this method is greatly aided by the assistance of a guided meditation, which can be provided through audio form such as through youtube or spotify (which there are numerous resources) or irl through a yoga instructor or friend, but make sure this environment is safe, and research your yoga gurus. you can lets begin ♡ ]

HOW TO ACHIEVE YOGA NIDRA : STEP 1 - STARFISH / SAVASANA POSITION

[ the first position which is recommended for yoga nidra is to assume the shavasana position, more commonly known as the starfish position in western circles due to having all four limbs spread openly, similarly to the animal. We’ll be further using the effects of this technique during the course of the yoga nidra state. ]

STEP 2 - THINKING WITH INTENT

[ this step might be familiar to shifters and some manifestors, as we’re often instructed to think with intent to achieve your desired manifestations or reality. In this state, we will think with intents to fully relax our mind and body, and later, think with the intention that no matter what, you will achieve your desired state or want, think with the intent that all limiting beliefs have been discarded. ]

STEP 3 - ROTATION OF CONSCIOUSNESS

[ I think this is basically just body scanning, but can also be used as an oppurtunity to position your consciousness into that of the desired person, state, reality etc you want to achieve. Disconnect your body fully from the 3D world at this point, you should only be aware of the 4D world ]

STEP 4 - AWARNESS OF BREATH

[ it’s basically what it sounds like lol, so just do your preferred breathing excercises ]

STEP 5 - FEELINGS AND SENSATIONS

[ this is where you should start to visualize your inner world more vividly, invoking the ability to use your 5 senses in your inner world to further immerse your brain in this experience. I’ve already made a post (that no one read) about how to easily invoke your five senses to shift :) ]

STEP 6 - CREATIVE VISUALIZATIONS

[ this is an extension of the previous step, where you visualize your inner world. in this step, the focus is specifically on the sense of vision in the inner world, where intense mental traning and concentration is used to invision complex imagery. remember, visualizing (and vision in general) is a sequence of succeeding imagery, it’s not that complicated at all, and you’ll become better and better every time you try! ]

STEP 7 - INTENTIONAL THINKING - THE RE-UP

[ This final step invokes once again intentional thinking, but instead of easing you into the dream world, it eases you out, returning the mind to wakefullness. ]

conclusion ~

[ what originally drawn me into this method was that it provided the clearest instruction of how to bring ourselves to the inner world I’ve seen before, and I hope it was able to inspire you also~ you’re going to manifest your desires, it’s literally destiny, remember that, and byeee! ♡ ]

#law of assumption #loass #loa #manifesting #states #yoga

65 notes · View notes

ghost-of-a-slave · 9 days

Note

As a fellow necrophille I don't understand how you don't understand that, zoophilla, and pedophilia shouldn't be compared to necrophilia. Very much not all paraphillas are equal, and some are very much more actively harmful. I understand if you'd like to dismiss my comment but I'd just like for you to give you your opinion. I also understand the struggles of having paraphillas but it's important to note more are harmful.

Pedophilia is actively harming a child who can develop trauma and suffer significantly due to being affected by these actions.

The same can be stated for zoos but in regards to animals.

Then on the other hand necrophilla is an action that is doing something to a body that cannot develop trauma nor be affected by the actions that are being done to it.

I feel like you can support them, but you should know that we are not equal. They are very much more harmful then us.

Reading this leads me to assume that you haven't actually read much of my blog nor what I stand for. I want to be clear of one main thing that is at the core of how I approach these topics; I am anti-contact (aka against enacting the fantasies of victimizing paraphilias, whether that is allowing harm to oneself or doing harm to others). I am also anti-contact for necrophilia as it does harm to the families of the dead and crosses over to doing things that could be harmful to people depending on what spiritual beliefs you have. Just because you, the person enacting something do not believe in their religion does not mean that you then should have the right to devalue their own beliefs they had held in life. In addition until one is able to provide substantial evidence that the beliefs of these religious people are false- it is better to simply not indulge. (Consent before someone dies gets more shaky, I personally likely would not indulge even in these circumstances due to the risk of disease as well as afaik it is illegal where I am and one form of physical pleasure is not worth jail time.) I also find it necessary to mention that in my case my necrophilia developed from my trauma. Part of this trauma was an abuser of mine, specifically a human trafficker, raping me using the corpses of those whom he had murdered. Though it is true in a vacuum, necrophilia would not cause harm, there are ways that people can turn any and all attractions into abuse.

I myself do see corpses as objects and no longer having the same level of importance as people. However, I understand why it is wrong to do things to people's bodies after they are gone when put in the context of modern society. I consider necrophilia in the first place to be a self-victimizing situation (when it is not paired with erotophonophilia as murder clearly is victimizing another and obviously wrong) as the one whom would be physically harmed via disease and illness is the one who would be engaging. The corpse cannot experience any harm that matters. The reason I then layer care and consideration for people's religious beliefs on top of that is because I also want my own wishes for my death to be withheld. Though I may not care what is done with my body in this regard for a period of time before my own burial or otherwise proper disposal, I would have wishes for how things should be when I am eventually properly laid to rest. Thus it is similar to other ills in society- we must give up our rights to do as we please with the dead in order to ensure our own rights to have our body treated as we wish.

Erotophonophilia has overlaps with necrophilia as well. In fact it is considered to be a subtype of specifically necrophilic disorder.

(wikipedia is not a good source in of itself but this is one of the most concise ways I have seen the current proposed classifications be broken down. I personally find the classifications annoying as it doesn't seem to accurately assess for specifics of types of attractions in those who are non-acting/non-offending side from classes 1 and 2, but I digress). The point of bringing this up is to be clear that yes, though the innate harm of most necrophiles acting on their attraction would be less severe than the rape of an animal or a child- harm to living people can in some cases be a part of it. That is not something I am into myself, but it does happen.

I do not believe I have compared pedophilia or zoophilia to necrophilia before aside from the context of them all being paraphilias and having the ability to be a paraphilic disorder. In this regard they are grouped in the same area of the DSM and as well sometimes have comorbidity or dual attraction so to speak. Everything I support and condone is specifically and strictly anti-abuse and anti-contact for anything that could result in harm. Bestiality, animal abuse, child abuse and pederasty are things that are inevitable to result in harm. I will not deny the severity of the issue if someone were to act on those desires, and I do genuinely believe that acting on either will usually be more harmful than someone acting on necrophilia as the damage done is to victimize another living being in a way to permanently traumatize them. This would possibly result in physical injury, permanent damage, mental trauma, or permanent changes to the victim's brain structure. Necrophilia can result in disease and pain and distress for the family of the deceased, which though still bad does amount to a lesser harm.

Pedophilia is not actively harming children. I understand that the term for our attraction to corpses remains the same as the legal term for acting on that attraction (something I hope some day will be changed) but that is simply not the case for Zoophiles and Pedophiles. Child abuse/rape/exploitation, and endangerment are the names of the crimes against children. Bestiality, animal abuse/rape/exploitation are the names of the crimes against animals. I believe you are conflating the criminal actions with the paraphilias which is something I like to avoid. I believe further separating the attraction as well as the paraphilic disorders from the crimes that occur when someone acts upon those desires or opportunistically takes advantage of someone or something will result in a better understanding for those struggling with their paraphilias and ultimately lead to more harm reduction in the long run.

What I do support is non-offending/non-acting and anti-contact zoophiles and pedophiles. I do not support people abusing animals or children, nor do I support those advocating to be allowed to do that. I don't support zoophiles like the people from Zooier than thou (or whatever that podcast was called) who try to claim that animals can consent and somehow like being abused by humans. I do not support the zoos who post sexual content of real animals whether that be just the animal or full on bestiality porn (which I believe should be illegal in the same way CSEM is as it is a form of animal sexual exploitation) I personally find feral NSFW to be disgusting, however as that is fiction that should be allowed to exist as it has no victims.

I don't support pedophiles who do things like NAMBLA. Any advocacy to lower the age of consent is deeply concerning and does not come from a good place. I do not support people who look at and consume real CSEM. I am someone who is the source of likely massive amounts of CSEM (I was the victim, my trafficking was often recorded or photographed). I know how horrific it is and how much worse it makes the trauma when there's CSEM out there of what happened to you. Trust me I am not okay with things that do real world harm.

Paraphilia is someone's mentality specifically atypical attractions. That is what zoophiles and pedophiles share with people like us. Supporting all paraphiles is important to make sure less people are abused. Acceptance and understanding helps people to be able to get help sooner.

#pro para #paraphile safe #para safe #paraphiles please interact #pro paraphile #anti contact #sa tw #trafficking tw #csa tw

10 notes · View notes

daenerysstormreborn · 5 months

Text

Guess I’m making this post in this blog after my accidentally posting my last one here but I just watched the Todd in the Shadows video on Somerton and that combined with the hbg video make it so clear that Somerton is a misogynist. Todd says he can’t speculate about an agenda for James’s lies but I can!! It doesn’t account for all of them but his sexism is clearly driving some of these claims.

The way that many straight women treat gay men is atrocious. But are they more homophobic than straight men? No! Absolutely not! This publication from the UK reports that perpetrators of sexual orientation based hate crimes of all levels of severity are 82% male and that the more severe the crime, the greater the male dominance. However, these data from the US report that 95.7% of offenders committing hate crimes on the basis of sexual orientation and gender were male, although the sample size is more limited (N = 171) and with the caveat that this category includes anti-female attacks, which, of course, are going to have male perpetrators.

Actually, little tangent, the previous data set is weird.

It’s kind of weird that the fact that the crimes were overwhelmingly committed by men isn’t commented on. It seems like this is hidden on purpose based on the fact that they use female as the characteristic instead of male. Then they don’t note this in the “significantly higher rates” panel even though being male is OVERWHELMINGLY the greatest predictive factor in committing a hate crime with dominances of 95.3% (sexual orientation, gender identity, gender), 93.3% (race, ethnicity, nationality), and 91.5% (religion). The next highest numbers (not including the “violent” characteristic because that’s a characteristic of the crime and not the offender) are for attaining a max level of education of high school or lower, and they’re 69.3%, 72.8%, and 53.3%. So why is the overwhelming male dominance not highlighted? In fact, the male dominance of offenders isn’t mentioned AT ALL in the document. I’d chalk this up the fact that most violent crime is committed by men but these data also include non-violent crime. Plus, these numbers are higher than the % male for general violent crime and for most specific categories of violent crime, save for sexual offenses. The exact numbers vary from year to year but this overview from 2012 (which is simply the first result that came up) indicates that 80.1% of arrestees for violent crime are male. For some reason the app isn’t letting me paste the link but the source is the FBI UCR (Uniform Crime Reporting) report on crime in the US in 2012, table 42. Like, hello? Rather low sample size nonwithstanding, if we take these data at face value, they tell us that men in the US are overwhelmingly more likely to commit hate crimes.

Anyway, this is supposed to be about James Somerton. Many of his lies involved things that he claims straight women do or did. Sometimes he even specifies white women, as if he is not a white man. He’s mad about the injustices gay men face and have faced throughout history, and rightfully so. But instead of going for the men who are actually violent, instead of talking about the actual ways straight women do perpetuate homophobia, he makes up straight women to direct his anger at. It seems as if the only times he does discuss real problems with straight women’s homophobia or the homophobia of straight men, he’s just plagiarizing! He could have just said that it makes him uncomfortable that there are straight women who write gay porn about Jeffrey Dahmer and left it at that! But he lied instead to make it seem more outrageous!! Aaahhhh!!!!

#not asoiaf #james somerton

22 notes · View notes

cromulentenough · 2 years

Text

Given the number of times someone going on about cultural Christianity has assumed I used to be Christian when I'm talking about Islam and the number of things in the list of things that prove you're culturally Christian that apply equally to Islam, y'all need to do some learning about other religions yourself.

Did it take some time to unpack assumptions that are holdovers from Islam for me? Yes. Is there some stuff I still need to unpack? Probably.

But the number of things that those people assume atheists MUST have gotten from Christianity and couldn't POSSIBLY have already examined it already or even just never have internalised in the first place is so large that it's pointless to apply it to specific people unless you've specifically caught them doing those things and talked to them enough to know where it came from.

My culture is influenced by Christianity and Islam and Judaism and Hinduism and Roman paganism and Zoroastrianism and a million other things. At the level of vagueness that you're using to define people as culturally Christian (given how few of that big list apply to many people but apparently just one is enough to count as making you culturally Christian) it makes just as much sense to call me culturally Zoroastrian.

Anyway I'm gonna start calling orthodox Jews from New York cultural Christians now because they know what Christmas is if they don't turn up to work when it's closed even if they don't celebrate it themselves. I'm sure they won't be offended at all.

#exmuslim stuff

310 notes · View notes

lestatthebrat · 2 years

Text

About the Racists, Homophobes, and Purists Reviewing amc’s “Interview with the Vampire”

To put it bluntly: the people giving this show bad reviews are racists and homophobes. This is a damn good show that breathes new life into an old story, and the fan reviews claiming that this adaptation is “horrible” and a “disgrace” to Anne Rice’s work are simply bigots who cannot stand to see two men kissing on screen and/or who are ridiculously offended that Black actors are playing Louis and Claudia.

Don’t believe me? Look at what fan reviewer joshua g had to say on Rotten Tomatoes: “Of course they would take a classic that does not need change, and turn it into a homosexual love story.” Obviously, his 0.5-star rating (the lowest rating possible on Rotten Tomatoes) was not motivated by the quality of the show but by his own homophobia. P W is another fan reviewer who gave the show a whopping 0.5 stars, because he has a problem with People of Color playing some of the leading characters. He says: “At some point, the intentional casting of minorities in reboots is going to end. History will look unfavorably at the practice.” Fan reviewer Rich G says it even more bluntly: “I dislike this show for one very specific reason. The race swapping of Louis and Claudie” (the misspelling of Claudia’s name is his mistake, not mine). Meanwhile, a fan reviewer on IMDb, GeorgeWHAMMYBush, gave the show a 1/10 (the lowest possible rating on IMDb) and this review: “They made the whole thing a dismally shot propaganda piece and it's painful to sit through… The plot gets obliterated completely in this and it's barely about vampirism at all and is now about race and sexual orientation. The whole thing is a waste of time. They then go after religion because while it was touched on as offensive to vampires in the books here it is clearly the target of the hacks who made this abomination. This could be studied in school as a part of a series on why American media failed when it had every chance to succeed. Whoever made this should be banned from the media industry entirely. Do not bother watching this. It will just aggravate you.” Most of the very low reviews on Rotten Tomatoes and IMBb are reminiscent of these examples, and it’s cringingly obvious these people just hate the show because they are racist and homophobic.

It amuses me that some of these bigots are attempting to use their alleged “love” for the source material as a mask for their racism and homophobia. Like “HOW DARE THEY CHANGE ANNE RICE’S BOOK AND MAKE LOUIS A BLACK MAN INSTEAD OF A SLAVE OWNER!?” or “HOW DARE THEY MAKE LOUIS GAY JUST TO SEEM WOKE!?” But if these so called “avid fans” actually read any of Anne Rice’s books, they must have stopped after book one, because if they got even to book 2 they would have known that Louis and Lestat have ALWAYS been an LGBT couple. If you read book 1, “Interview with the Vampire,” and missed the pretty-hard-to-miss subtext, go re-read it. To recap: Louis talks about how Lestat “had me mesmerized, enchanted” (direct quote); Louis explicitly compares Lestat turning him into a vampire to sex; he and Lestat live together for over sixty year; and they adopt a child together. By book 2, “The Vampire Lestat,” Lestat has male lovers both before and after becoming a vampire, and he confirms that he and Louis were lovers. He and Louis also have a heartfelt reunion in the 80s, and they kiss multiple times on the mouth. (I know, too gay for people who didn’t get past the Neil Jordan film.) By the time we reach the final book in of series, “Blood Communion,” Louis and Lestat are again living together, and in the final chapter of the book, they dance together at a ball, embrace, kiss multiple times on the lips, and profess their undying love for one another. Sorry, homophobes, but these vampires ain’t never been straight, and you’d know that if you actually read the books.

Aside from the raving racists and homophobes, there are some fan reviewers who seem to genuinely love Rice’s “Vampire Chronicles” but have a problem with the amc series diverging from the source material. Again, the “race swapping” is commonly mentioned, so I wonder how many of these people are also motivated by prejudice, but they have other problems too, such as changes in the time period, the ages of the character’s, the dialog (come on, what tv show preserves all of the dialogue from the books?), and even tiny unimportant details like the vampires “spilling blood” when they kill people. I understand when you passionately love a book series (and I myself passionately love “The Vampire Chronicles”), you imagine the story and characters a certain way, but what these people need to realize is that it is not unusual, uncommon, unfair, or disrespectful for tv reboots or movies to make changes from the books. “Interview with the Vampire” was already made into a very successful and well-known movie in 1994, and most remakes/reboots that do NOT try anything new but simply repeat what has already been done fail miserably. “Psycho,” “Nightmare of Elm Street,” “Carrie”... these are all movies that took a classic and remade it more or less the same as the original, and all of these films were brushed off and forgotten because they offered nothing new and exciting, nothing updated and relevant, nothing thought-provoking that would allow the audience to think of things in a different way or see things in a new light. In simply repeating the original with different actors, they failed to live up to the original. The same thing has happened when books have been made into movies and then later into tv series: look at “The Shining.” Most people don’t even know the inferior miniseries exists, even though it is more accurate to the book and Stephen King wrote it himself. On the contrary, some of the most successful remakes, the kind of remakes that make people say, “This is better than the original!”—which, by the way, the majority of critics and fans ARE saying about amc’s “Interview with the Vampire”—are remembered and beloved because they do not just rehash the same old material but because they put a spin on old characters and content; they make changes and updates; they offer the audience something new, exciting, current, and relevant, something more and something deeper. Some examples: “The Fly,” “The Thing,” “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” This is what amc is doing with “Interview with the Vampire.”

So, if you earnestly love the original books, that’s wonderful, but you have the books, and you can read them as many times as you want. You also have the Neil Jordan film which you can re-watch to your liking. Now, the amc series is remaking/rebooting this series, and it is not a crime for production teams to take creative liberties, and I honestly do not see this as a disrespect to Anne Rice’s work either. She SOLD the rights of her work for this television series, which means the production team can make whatever changes they want. That’s how it goes for any author whose book is being made into a movie: they sign the contract, they get paid (and Anne Rice most likely got paid millions of dollars for this series) and they don’t have any say over what changes are made to the production. Even most script writers who spend months or years creating characters and writing a story, if they are lucky enough to sell their script to a production company, they lose creative control over that story. That’s just the way it works. It’s nothing new. It’s nothing shocking. And it’s not a “disgrace.” This has been going on literally always since movies and television shows have been made based on books. Have you ever seen the “original” 1931 “Frankenstein” movie? Ever compare it to Mary Shelley’s book? So like I was saying, movies/tv shows departing from the source material is nothing new and nothing to be “furious” or “disgusted” about.

Now, if you love the show, please go leave a review on IMDb and Rotten Tomatoes, because it’s being review-bombed by racists and homophobes and purists who want to see it tank! But we won’t let that happen because they dumbass bitches and love wins! ♥️

#amc's interview with the vampire #AMC+#AMC #amc plus #interview with the vampire #Lestat De Lioncourt #lestat #Louis de Pointe du Lac #lestat x louis #loustat #homophobia #racisim #rotten tomatoes #imdb #reviews #critic reviews #the vampire chronicles #claudia

171 notes · View notes