#admonition inspired

[markundermark]

"All Stories are the same, and they must be the same."

MINKOWSKI-PLACEHOLDER RETCON EXCLUSION GENERATOR

or MPREG for short

A concept for an eigenmachine based on the events and ideas of the ADMONITION canon.

Mainly did it because it was a funny joke

Tap for a better view btw :D

See Below for sloppy technobabble

Oh you're actually here? Holy shit

So to get things straight, I'm no author, nor really good with words if I'm being honest, but I AM DEEPLY OBSESSED WITH EIGENMACHINES

MPREG in my head is actually just a secondary part for a much much larger thing within Project Anaximenes, yes, well they took Anaximander already so why not grab the similarly named guy

ANYWAYS

what's Project Anaximenes?

This is not real I JUST NEED TO SCREAM THIS BECAUSE I WROTE TOO MUCH FOR A FUNNY MPREG EIGENMACHINE JOKE

Project Anaximenes is a Project proposed by PHMD along with the cooperation of Site-17 and Pilcrow-Minkowski Multidisciplinary Division to basically breach into the storyline themselves and rewrite canon.

And they'll expect that the authors and readers of their narrative will counter this and thus create MPREG, a way to isolate their narrative from alterations whilst keeping their alterations intact.

The ideal narrative anchor.

I haven't made the narrative rewriting machine yet... And maybe never will :3

Anyways HERE'S THE BABBLE PART

P.M.C. Multidisciplinary Division employed different parts of the remaining hyperspecific applied metaphysical departments around the Foundation to basically conceptualize and construct the 2 machines for Project Anaximenes.

The person who designed it, is Director Renan Minkowski, Applied Metaphysician and the Head of Eigenmechanics, and yes Applied Metaphysics gotten employed to make Eigenmachines so much they have a whole division for that now

ANYWAYS REAL BABBLE TIME

What this entire thing is basically a giant metaphysical narrative gyroscope, you know how the Hero's Journey goes on a loop? Well what if you spin that cycle really really fast, maybe so fast that any alterations, any deviations, would just kick it back up to stability until it loses momentum

Narrative Momentum, "momentum" is basically an idea in storytelling I somewhat thought about, which is basically the sequence of events that keeps the story going, no gaps, no fillers, all relevant information to all the cycles of the monomyth, and if you keep that momentum up, you wouldn't be able to break it with a continuity change.

And this shit abuses the hell out of causality because of that.

Now to the specifics

This is basically converting Narrative potential, to Narrative momentum

Where do you get narrative potential?

Well... I wouldn't saaaayy.... Because it's very unethical sourcing but let's just say there's a certain group holding upon a certain narrative archetype that usually holds out such big protagonistic potential due to... Lets say unfortunate circumstances, and since this group is basically young... They don't have those energies released

And you can harvest those

And you can accelerate those narrative energies with a fate accelerator of some sort, or kismekinetic force

Transformed into a static normal narrative

And the narrative forces drive a differential forward

And spins the narrative gyroscope around

Wouldn't that be funny?

[talonabraxas]

��And no man hath ascended up to heaven, but he that came down from heaven, even the Son of man which is in heaven. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life” (John 3:13-15). Cosmic Serpent Talon Abraxas From out of the depths of endless heaven uncoiled the shrouded serpent, his sinuous neck and darting tongue alive with grace and power. There was no corner of the world he did not penetrate, no race of man who did not bow in awe before him. In all cultures there are ophiolatrous practices and serpent carvings exist from early Paleolithic times. Serpent worship has taken myriad forms over the millennia, from the python worshippers of Africa, where God in serpent form is guarded by priest-attendants, to the sanctification of cobras in India and the snake-handling cults of the southern United States. In Greece the sacred serpent of Athene had its abode in the Acropolis, and at Epidauros serpents were fed at the temple of Aesculapius. The ancient Hebrews kept seraphim or serpent images in their household shrines, while the Ophites in the second century maintained a 'Brotherhood of the Serpent,' worshipping them as saviours, representations of the Christos principle. Every tribe of American Indians practiced a form of serpent worship, usually in connection with the sun. In ancient Egypt the headdresses of kings and gods were often capped with the disk of the sun out of which a serpent emerged.

The Uraeon – a hierogram of a disk, wings and serpent – has been found all over the Middle East, Asia, the Mediterranean, and Mexico. In England it was inscribed on the walls of the Druidic temple of Abury, which consists of two giant stone serpents, 1400 feet in diameter and two miles long. The word Abury itself derives from auh, meaning 'serpent,' and aur or ur, meaning 'light.' Similarly, the name Carnac comes from the words cairn and hac, meaning 'serpents' hill.' The Druidic Carnac was patterned after Karnak in Egypt, built by hierophant-priests of the Solar-Serpent Race in still more ancient times. Each stone of the wondrous monument was put in place by successive priest-adepts. The serpent walls of China are impressive in size, but an overwhelming expression of serpentine form can be found at Angkor Wat. Giant serpent causeways span moats to meet with intricately carved temple walls whose every angle and panel is adorned with seven-headed serpents. Just so do the mighty plumed serpents of Mexico impress by their bold size and number. The efforts of ages, of millions of human lives, have gone into the carving of these awesome figures.

As a symbol, the serpent has inspired a wealth of interpretations. The encircling serpent, eating its own tail, is a widespread symbol of eternal life, just as the sloughing of its skin signifies resurrection. This was so for the Old World as well as the Americas, the Gnostic Ouroboros being essentially the same as the Hopi encircled serpent. The Egyptians and Gnostics related this to the Wheel of Life, determining birth and rebirth. The serpent also symbolizes wisdom, a universal idea reflected in the admonition of Jesus: "Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves; be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves."

[gingerteawrites]

Dangerous man - Nanami Kento and Gojo Satoru

A/N: Inspired by this fanart I saw last night. This is a bit different in terms of my usual writing content, but I hope you enjoy it.

Content: female reader, Gojo x reader, Nanami x reader.

Stepping into the room, you felt your heart thrum with enthusiasm. Finding a jazz lounge in your area that opened at a time you were free to go had been the highlight of your week. Sure, the place was a bit out of the way and not very frequented... But that was beside the point! You were here, that is all that mattered.

The velvet dress that had been collecting dust in your closet finally got its time to shine. The snug material hugging your body in all the right places, hoping to fit into the aesthetic.

In spite of your anticipation, though, you were not fully prepared for the lounge to feel so bewitching. From the maroon lighting that painted the whole area in a dangerously seductive sheen, to the noir jazz being played by the small ensemble on stage. You had somehow stepped foot into a different world. One which only made your heart race with more anticipation for the night to unfold.

You were already enthralled by the ambiance. But something managed to grip your attention even more. The sight of two men you spotted while looking for a seat. They sat almost inconspicuously in a corner, where the light dimmed considerably. One blonde and the other white-haired, sipping languidly on their drinks while in a hushed conversation.

Now sat on a stool at the bar, you ordered a drink, telling yourself that it was impolite to stare. But neither your heart nor your eyes heeded reprimand. The men's suits and pristinely done hair gave off an aura of importance, but the serious expression they donned were straight out menacing. Menacingly alluring. They looked like danger. And for one like you, who tried your best in life to stay out of it, the pull you felt towards them was as foreign as it was exhilarating.

You shifted in the small bar's stool, drink in hand, and turned to face the stage, willing your eyes to focus on the female singer who crooned a sensual tune.

This is why you were here. To enjoy the music and forget the stress of your usual life. To cosplay a person whose duties were not squeezing the life out of her. Maybe that was why you were so intrigued by the men. Indeed, you concluded, your mind just wanted a distraction.

The singer's tone and the gentle swirl of instruments finally lulled your thoughts into semi-tranquility, and your body into a slow sway, tasting the fruity mix of your drink slide down your tongue with every sip.

Her set ended, and you set your now empty glass down, clapping as she exited the stage and sent an appreciative smile your way. You returned the grin and turned to order another drink, but failed to register the presence of one imposing figure who had made his way over to you.

"Incredible performance," the blonde man commented, somehow seating on the stool to your right. The sweet musk of patchouli invaded your senses before your eyes had the chance to find its owner. You startled a bit, but composed yourself.

"Yes it was fantastic. She's a beautiful singer." You spun in your chair to face the bar, ready to call the barista over.

"Oh but I must say," his white haired companion leaned in from the seat on your left.

How on earth had you not noticed him getting closer too? You felt surrounded, but instead of panic, thrill ran through your veins.

"Her beauty pales in comparison to yours." His honeyed voice drifted over you, azure eyes catching yours with electrifying intensity.

Your averted your eyes from his smothering gaze, unable to hide your fluster. You heard the blonde man click his tongue in admonition.

"Satoru," to which his friend responded with a brief chuckle.

"My name is Nanami Kento, miss." He slipped his hand into yours. The man brought it to his mouth, hazel eyes not leaving yours as his lips gently grazed your skin.

You could hear your heartbeat loud in your ears, your skin erupting into goosebumps when his touch left your body.

His friend, whom you now knew as Satoru chuckled, calling your attention back to him. The intensity behind his eyes remained, quickly directed at the other man before they returned to you. "And what is your name, pretty lady?"

"___" You watched them repeat it, as if tasting your name on their tongues. You had never heard it sound so alluring. Like everything about them.

"So, gentlemen," you forced yourself to focus, "what brings you here?" Your eyes fleeted between the two, noting their loosened ties. The next combo took their place on stage, the slow drag of the clarinet introducing the next piece.

Satoru chuckled, leaning into you so that his lips were only a few paces from your ear. "It matters not what brings us here," he whispered, his breath tickling the exposed skin of your neck.

Kento tilted his head, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. You did not even notice when he had a chance to order it. "What matters is where we go from here," His smooth voice almost sounded like part of the song's arrangement.

The music faded to the background and you examined the two men who flanked you. All of their attention focused on you.

What struck you was the oddity of the encounter. There was a sense of lurking danger around them. From the way they had so swiftly surrounded you. To how no one had approached the bar since they found your side. Something in your brain told you to find a way out, but then again their mere presence was oh so intoxicating.

"What do you say, beautiful?" Satoru's smirk widened as he extended a hand, palm up.

"The music is sweeter with company, yeah?"

Would you take his hand, and join them for perhaps the most memorable night of your life?

This was so much fun to write, hehe. I love the idea of having a mysterious encounter at a jazz lounge. It reminds me of the song a night to remember by laufey and beabadoobee. Please let me know how you liked it!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

[sforzesco]

trebonius and cicero jr in athens! cic. fam. 12.16 has done critical emotional damage to me that I will Never Recover From

Nothing could be more popular with everybody at Athens than your young man-indeed I should call him ours, for I can have no interest disconnected with yourself. Nor could there be greater devotion than his to the studies which you love above everything, that is, to the most excellent. Accordingly, as I can do with sincerity, I am delighted to congratulate you—and myself quite as much—that we have in him, whom we should be obliged to love in any case, whatever his conduct, one whom we can love with pleasure as well. In the course of conversation he remarked to me that he would like to visit Asia, and was not only invited but pressed by me to do so if possible while I was governing the province. You ought to have no doubt that in affection and love I shall be a father to him in your place. Another thing I shall take care of is that Cratippus accompanies him, that you may not imagine him in Asia as taking a complete holiday from the studies to which he is inspired by your admonitions. For though I see that he is fully prepared, and has already taken a great stride in that direction, I will not omit my exhortations, to induce him to make farther progress every day by learning and keeping himself in practice.

Cic. Fam. 12.16

weeping. wailing.

[apesoformythoughts]

“But the risen Christ, particularly in Luke and John, is also the perfection of humanity, which can only be described as paradisiacal. The words, gestures, and deeds are of a gentleness that has nothing abstract or other-worldly about it; rather, it is quite intimate and confidence-inspiring, although one senses the transition through death into a life that includes the final human experience.

What is more gentle, more intimate than the words exchanged with Mary of Magdala at the open tomb; what is more delightful than the conversation on the way to Emmaus, culminating in the sharing of bread; what is so intimate and, at the same time, so restrained as the morning meal on the lake shore?

And where it is necessary to rebuke because devotion of faith is lacking, what is more merciful, since the admonition always also contains the gift of presence, even of touch, as is seen most poignantly in the first of the closing scenes in John's Gospel: to be allowed to touch after all, but with the invitation to forego it?

Or the withdrawal of himself from Magdalen in order to give her something better, more paschal: the mission to the brethren with the good news of the Resurrection?”

— Hans Urs von Balthasar: Life out of Death: Meditations on the Paschal Mystery

[traintrainingmontage]

Friends and Family

Summary: When Skarloey falls ill, Rheneas becomes uncharacteristically worried. The crimson engine's attitude rubs the SR's newest engine, Duke, the wrong way, until his brother makes a heartfelt request.

Rating: T

Word Count: ~2.3k (Chapter 1)

Chapters: 1/2

Characters: Skarloey, Rheneas, Duke, Peter Sam, OCs (human crews), mentions of other SR engines, mentions of the Thin Controller and Mr. Hugh

Ao3, if you prefer

Many of my headcanons here were inspired by/in alignment with those of Ted from the YouTube channel TTTE Community Radio. He has a great video about the Skarloey Railway and "the lean years" that's very much worth a watch!

The term "granchuffs" is not my original creation, but I've seen it circulated around the fandom, and it's my favorite thing.

A full year had passed since Duke had been found and added to the Skarloey Railway's roster, and summer had wound its way back to Skarloey Valley. The birds were singing, the sky was blue, and the sun peeked through golden-edged clouds. Flowers swayed gently in the calm breeze, and tourists walked about in comfortable clothes, smiles coming easily to their faces. Overall, it promised to be a delightful day at work for all of the engines... at least, for all but one.

Skarloey woke up feeling absolutely dreadful, and the discomfort only compounded the moment the old engine's driver, Graham, a fresh-faced young man of about 28 years old, started trying to light him up. His tubes felt tight and his frames ached, causing small, pained grunts to escape his lips as he shifted in place. As the other engines were steamed up, they spared him sympathetic glances, but could do nothing to ease his pain and were soon sent out by their respective crews. By the time the shed's clock read 10:00, only Duke, Rheneas, and the sick Skarloey were left in the shed.

The silence was broken by the sound of Graham sighing as he finished inspecting his poor engine. "Alright, Skarloey," he murmured, resting his hand on his tank, "I'll get Mr. Hugh to look you over properly. You won't be pulling any trains today."

The driver's gaze flicked over toward the other engines. "Do you think that one of you could take Skarloey's trains? I apologize, but..."

"Oh, it's no trouble," Duke reassured him. "I can--"

"I'll take his trains," Rheneas blurted out. The sudden outburst quieted the shed, Rheneas's concerned expression contrasting with the various looks of surprise aimed his way from Graham and Duke.

Skarloey's face, however, was set in a pained solemnity that had nothing to do with his illness. "Rheneas, don't." the No. 1 began, his voice tight, an edge of pleading whetting his words.

"He's right, Rheneas," Duke added kindly. "You just got out of the Works yesterday. I have only one train on my schedule today; I promise you that I am more than capable of taking Skarloey's as well."

"Exactly," Skarloey agreed, shooting Duke a grateful look before his sharp gaze returned to Rheneas. "It's your rest day, and you should...urgh!"

Skarloey's admonition was sharply cut off as another grunt of pain escaped him, and his brother's worried expression hardened into one of determination. "I will take your trains, Skarloey. Don't worry about me."

"I will always worry about you," the old engine retorted, and the seriousness in his tone caused any outgoing comments to wither and die on Rheneas's tongue. Still, despite Skarloey's pensive expression, he didn't object to Rheneas's plea any further, and Duke found himself at a loss for words in the face of the force of Rheneas's demand. Soon enough, the No. 2 was getting steamed up, and his driver Rodger was steering him gingerly out of the shed, looking for Skarloey's train.

Graham turned his gaze back to Skarloey, his pensive expression a reflection of just how unusually serious this entire situation felt. "Right... well, let me go report in to the Thin Controller and the Foreman, alright? They'll be here soon to take a look at you."

"Alright, thank you."

With another light pat to his boiler, Graham headed off to the main office. It was only Skarloey and Duke in the shed now, and although the space between them was slight, the gap felt insurmountable. Finally, Skarloey began to speak.

"I'm sorry, Duke. It's not that anyone here doubts your abilities, I promise. It's...well..."

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Skarloey," the other steam engine hastened to reply. He tried to keep his tone magnanimous, making every effort to not direct his frustration and confusion at Skarloey, but by the way the other engine's frown deepened, he could see that he hadn't particularly succeeded.

"But I do," the older engine murmured. "You deserve an explanation. All of you do. I just...gah."

Duke sighed quietly as Skarloey flinched, words failing the crimson engine as shivers wracked his frames. "I would be more than willing to hear you out later, Skarloey. For now, however, you must rest. Any explanation that you wish to give on the subject of Rheneas's behavior can wait until you feel less miserable."

~~~

Later in the day, Skarloey was fast asleep, having been given a cursory examination by Mr. Hugh. The foreman had wanted to move Skarloey into the Works immediately, but he had been called away from the station in order to handle an urgent family matter. As such, Skarloey had urged him to take care of whatever else needed handling, and that he would be perfectly fine with waiting. As the older engine slept, Duke was finally steamed up, readying himself for his scheduled train--set to run soon after lunch--as a comfortable heat settled in his smokebox.

A familiar whistle caught his attention, and he looked around to see the smiling face of Peter Sam.

"Hullo, granpuff!" the little green engine called as he pulled into the yard. With a quick pat, Rufus, his driver, alighted from the cab, likely off to take lunch alongside Richard, Duke's own driver. "How are things?"

"Well enough, Peter Sam," Duke replied with a smile, unable to keep a dour mood around his more chipper granchuff. "I'll be leaving to take my train soon."

"Oh, wonderful!" Peter Sam chirped. "It's a lovely day for it, although with the way poor Rheneas has been bustling around, he'd put a big-yard shunter to shame. He seems overworked, if you ask me, especially since it was supposed to be his rest day."

Duke paused for a moment as his smile drooped, trying to order his next train of words carefully. "About that... this morning, I offered to take Skarloey's trains, seeing as he is clearly unwell. But Rheneas was... rather insistent that he take on the job himself. I wish I knew why."

"Oh..." Duke didn't miss the sudden downward shift in Peter Sam's expression. "Right, I should have guessed. This sort of thing has happened before. But it's nothing to do with you, granpuff!" he hastened to add, trying to dispel any doubt. "It's nothing to do with any of us, actually. From the bits and pieces that Skarloey's told me..."

Here, Peter Sam hesitated a moment, his expression turning a morose shade of thoughtful. "It's something to do with the war, I think. Or maybe the aftermath."

The green engine's voice dropped to a whisper and his eyes darted around furtively, even though nobody else was around. "You see, granpuff, when Sir Handel and I were first brought on, Skarloey could barely move. They sent Rheneas away to be mended the week we arrived, and he looked so worried about Skarloey, even though the Thin Controller and Mr. Hugh promised him it would be fine."

Once again, the No. 4 hesitated, and with all the contrition of a confidant admitting a secret not theirs to tell, soldiered on. "When I asked Skarloey, he said that he'd been heavily damaged during the war, and that Rheneas had been doing all the work himself for years. We think---"

"I think that it's time for us to get going, Peter Sam," Rufus interrupted, although not unkindly. Peter Sam looked rather abashed, the two of them having been so absorbed in conversation that he hadn't noticed his approaching driver.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Rufus! Alright, I'm ready. We can talk later, granpuff."

"Of course, of course!" the old engine smiled, whistling in farewell as Peter Sam hurried along to collect his next train. He still had a good while before his own was set to depart, so--

"Did you two enjoy catching up?"

The wry, raspy voice caught Duke off guard, and his gaze whipped over to see Skarloey staring at him, his expression unreadable. Duke quietly gulped, finding the weight of the other engine's gaze to be rather unsettling. It wasn't mean, like that of the Mid-Sodor's horrendous management. Rather, it was judging, but not judgemental. Whatever Duke said next, he would have to take great care.

"We did, yes. How long were you...?"

He trailed off, but the crimson-colored engine seemed unbothered. "I was awake for most of it. It's very difficult to sleep when Peter Sam is in a good mood."

Duke couldn't think of a reply, so he simply hummed in agreement. After a long moment, Skarloey took it upon himself to fill the silence.

"Duke, may I... make a personal request of you?"

The gravitas in his tone, so unusual for what he'd seen of Skarloey thus far, caught Duke off guard despite the fact that this had been a rather strange day already. "Y-yes, of course. What can I help you with, Skarloey?"

"I would like you to speak with Rheneas. About his behavior, about his worries--mmhm!--about everything that he can't bear to speak of directly to me."

Shock flooded Duke's frames, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out "Me? Are you quite certain?"

Some of that shock must have shown on his face, because Skarloey graced him with a wry grin, even as a harsh cough shook through him moments later. "I am. It must be you, Duke. Nobody else here could understand what we went through besides you. Nobody else here... has seen two of the most terrible wars in this planet's history with their own eyes and lived to tell the tale."

The comment caused all of the air in Duke's tubes to woosh through him a half-step quicker, and he almost choked on his own breath. "I... I suppose that's one way to put it..."

Heedless of Duke's distress, or perhaps in spite of it, Skarloey elaborated. "During the second world war, Rheneas and I were the only two engines on this railway actually owned by the Skarloey. However, many Ministry of Defense engines were sent here to help mine and carry slate for various rebuilding efforts. The visitors were... mmmm... rather disinclined to worry about keeping our railway in decent shape, and more focused on the unending river of slate traveling from here to Kirk Ronan. We were constantly pushed around, nuisances in our own home."

Skarloey closed his eyes and took a deep breath, images flashing across his memory as though he were watching a movie. After a long pause, his eyelids fluttered open again as he continued his story.

"Rheneas often tried to stand up for us, but I didn't bother. It wouldn't have gotten us anywhere to argue. Instead, I focused on keeping our spirits up and doing as much work as I possibly could. After all, the more we did, the less damage others could cause to the railway. Also, because I was the only one of the two of us who could use the haulage wagon, I ended up taking trains of slate to Kirk Ronan when nobody else could. Unluckily for me, that tended to happen more often than I or the Thin Controller would have liked."

"Thankfully, the war ended, and the visitors began to depart. All of that work, however, left me severely damaged. Were this any other railway, they may have seriously considered scrapping me. However, this railway takes care of its own, and they actually built me this little side-shed in which I could rest and watch the rest of the world go by."

A weary note had entered Skarloey's voice, one that Duke, while not having had such an experience himself, could sympathize with.

"Rheneas... Rheneas has always felt guilty, I think. Guilty that I tended to get more work even before the war, guilty that he hadn't been able to help with some of the shipments to Kirk Ronan, guilty that I had ended up in such a state while he'd been spared. He nearly worked himself to a similar state of disrepair in those years before Sir Handel and Peter Sam came to our railway, and although I couldn't alleviate any of his physical burdens, I did my best to encourage him. Perhaps that only made him feel worse, though..."

The older engine's expression had morphed into a grimace, and Duke was suddenly hit by how worn Skarloey looked in this moment, his pain much greater than a physical malady could ever cause.

"And now, I've been mended and I feel better than ever--most days, anyway. But whenever I'm ill, Rheneas feels the need to pick up the slack, no matter the consequences to himself. When he looks at me, he sees the ghost of that terrible time. It's like he can't see the present for the past."

Skarloey licked his lips, clearly agitated, and Duke worried that he'd soon have another coughing fit. However, the crimson-clad engine simply pressed on.

"He doesn't want to worry me, so he won't talk to me. Not about this sort of thing, anyway. He's always been strong, and his work ethic saved our railway, but..."

Skarloey trailed off with a sigh, his frustration seeping out of him, but Duke understood. No more needed to be said.

"He needs a peer, is what you're saying. You're too close to the issue; he needs someone neutral that he can bare his heart to that isn't you. And it can't be any of the young'uns; they wouldn't understand."

"Yes! Exactly," Skarloey exclaimed, looking at Duke with wide eyes. "I know that I'm asking a lot of you, but like I said... I think you're the only one who can get him to open up at this point. I've tried, but--"

"Skarloey, Duke!"

An urgent shout drew both engines' attention, and their gazes quickly settled on the haggard-looking Richard, who was approaching Duke with urgent steps.

"Duke, Sir Handel will take your next train. Right now, we need to go rescue someone."

Skarloey and Duke looked at each other in alarm before their anxious eyes turned back to Duke's driver.

"Who is it?" Duke murmered, having a foreboding feeling that he already knew the answer.

"Rheneas," Richard replied solemnly. "He's completely come off the rails."

[crowdsourcedgender]

[Image ID: Two versions of a five stripe flag with two thicker outer stripes, and the middle stripe being the thickest. The middle stripe is divided into two halves by a jagged teal line. The colors from top to bottom go brown, dark orange, light beige, teal, light blueish grey, blueish grey, dark blueish grey. The first version has a teal circle in the middle with a white, radially symmetrical flower. /End ID]

Name: EIGHTHCOMMANDMENTadic / 6488adic

A gender related to SCP-6488, or "EIGHTH COMMANDMENT". Part of the ADMONITION series, so it uses the -adic suffix and flag template.

Flag colors are orange from VJDS's text color, light blue from LOTUS, and grey from deviancy & WAN*. Flag symbol is inspired by the LOTUS symbol.

*I... think that's the implication. Also, it's red in the text, but red wouldn't have looked good.

Tagging @radiomogai and @eparchclass because SCP!

Coined for day 22 of @anomaluary, prompt: A technology-related SCP

[placeholder-mcd]

This might have been asked before.

Could you give any advise on writing+on definite traits of PHMD, and maybe a sort of how he is characterized in both Admonition and Paraline?

Asking this due my own autism hindering my ability somewhat on identifying his traits and behaviors on part.

(ps. your works are awesome and have inspired me in some of my own works!)

I'm kind of figuring it out as I go, honestly. Like, Primeline McDoctorate is very similar to me as a person but has some slight differences in personality that I haven't quite nailed down yet, but intend to as I continue to endlessly rewrite Archetypicals into something I can respect as a first novel. So figuring out how an alternate version of Place responds to alternate scenarios is largely dependent on the scenarios and the archetypal function he's destined to serve therein, rather than being a function of his underlying personality. He's put in a position where he's willing to completely destroy himself as a character to become something differently entirely. The nature of what he wants to become remains to be seen and giving pointers on that would effectively be a spoiler.

TLDR what's going on in his head will remain mysterious out of both personal and narrative convenience

[thurifer-at-heart]

The Bible is resistance literature.

In the case of the mutant creatures of Daniel and Revelation, [biblical beasts] represent the evils of oppressive empires. It’s easy for modern-day readers to forget that the Bible was written by oppressed religious minorities living under the heels of powerful nation-states known for their extravagant wealth and violence. For the authors of the Old Testament, it was the Egyptian, Assyrian, Babylonian, Greek, and Persian Empires. For the authors of the New Testament, it was, of course, the massive Roman Empire. These various superpowers, which inflicted centuries of suffering upon the Jews and other conquered populations, became collectively known among the people of God as Babylon. One of the most important questions facing the people who gave us the Bible was: How do we resist Babylon, both as an exterior force that opposes the ways of God and an interior pull that tempts us with imitation and assimilation? They answered with volumes of stories, poems, prophecies, and admonitions grappling with their identity as an exiled people, their anger at the forces that scattered and oppressed them, God’s role in their exile and deliverance, and the ultimate hope that one day “Babylon, the jewel of kingdoms, the pride and glory of the Babylonians, will be overthrown by God” (Isaiah 13:19). It is in this sense that much of Scripture qualifies as resistance literature. It defies the empire by subverting the notion that history will be written by the wealthy, powerful, and cruel, insisting instead that the God of the oppressed will have the final word.

—Rachel Held Evans, Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again, p. 118

[skaruresonic]

VN Anon here. Sorry if my ask caused up a stir. I genuinely wanted to compliment you on your efforts with your first VN and understand your inspirations behind it without coming off too strong.

I was so invested with how you approached Sonic and Knuckles' conflict -- it's a very solid adaptation of what tends to be the heart of their disagreements. I was a little caught off guard when I was trying to help Amy, so I did feel like I was thrown for a loop when I accidentally prioritised her external conflict over her internal conflict (I got a real good scolding from Sonic TwT). And Cream's event made me feel personally responsible and protective of her, and the background story that Vanilla wants the best for her but considers discouraging her dream of becoming a baker made me feel a bit seen lol. So I commend you for making me feel human emotions like I'm a part of the cast even as Sonic's buddy^^

The unique spin you added with the puns, the dogs, Knuckles' weeb deal was a fun break from expectations. And your thoughtfulness over avoiding narration fatigue is also something I appreciate heavily since I'm frankly not a vn player by trade. I was interested in seeing your spin on the cast since I tend to agree with your thoughts on the game cast.

Currently still on the meta section (the character swap is entertaining), but I like how Eggman is a genuine threat, an absolute control freak, and sees me as a tool! Guy's a hilarious bastard as always!

I guess I'm trying to say that from one artist to another, I think your art's really nice and I resonate with it! I'm gonna play Antigravity once I have some spare time!

No worries, you didn't say anything wrong. Everything's cool. :>

Thanks! Originally it was going to be a kinetic novel (linear VN with no choices) but due to my inexperience with RenPy at the time, I couldn't figure out how to make branching paths; every choice tended to loop back around, so I decided to work with that conceit instead.

OaS isn't fully non-kinetic, but it isn't fully kinetic either. Only one choice really matters, which determines whether you get the bad ending, and even that can be reversed if you know what to do. You might just have to suffer for it a little, is all.

Without getting too spoilery, each choice has a "bad" alternate route, which is implied to be Eggman veering things off-script. You can see this as early as the first choice, where he pops in with a jumpscare. Because there aren't a whole lot of choices, I tried to make each one weightier than usual, as well as fairly obvious.

The overall idea is that you'll evaluate each situation and choose the option that's best for the characters, rather than something you may personally want them to do. ex. Sonic says he's getting stir-crazy, so it would be kind of imposing your will on him to be like "no, stay home and read a book." The original plan was to tally each of the player's bad choices and have Sonic issue a warning if it looked like the player was on the path towards a bad ending, with each one slowly increasing the volume on the alarm. But, again, due to my inexperience with RenPy, I didn't know how to set up those variables. What I wound up doing instead was a more binary system where one choice is the "good" choice that progresses the VN like normal, whereas the other is the "bad" choice that loops you back around following a jumpscare.

There's nothing in the code that will punish you for making poor choices - you won't get any friendship points docked or anything like that - but since the game is about friendship, I was hoping Sonic's admonitions would be enough. The deterrent needs to be a little harsh in the absence of flagged variables.

(And that's before Vanilla puts the fear of God in you. :P)

---

Currently still on the meta section (the character swap is entertaining), but I like how Eggman is a genuine threat, an absolute control freak, and sees me as a tool! Guy's a hilarious bastard as always!

nobody appreciates Eggman's contributions xP

"Do you have any idea how hard I work, Sonic?"

"well maybe you'd ship on time if you let somebody else handle the co---"

"SHUT UP, SONIC"

And yeah, Sonic and Eggman pulling a Freaky Friday has always been my jam. There's something about it that just tickles my funny bone.

---

I guess I'm trying to say that from one artist to another, I think your art's really nice and I resonate with it! I'm gonna play Antigravity once I have some spare time!

Ty, I'm glad you're enjoying it. ^^ And no rush. I'm still working out the bugs in Antigravity.

Two recommendations, though: don't try to rollback or button-mash if you can. RenPy doesn't remember the last action you took while you're in the battle loop, so if you try to rollback during battle, it'll take you to the title screen.

I do want to see if disabling rollback will fix the issue, but that's for later. I'm currently working on making more maps.

[limeade-l3sbian]

hi i know this is weird and tmi but idk i need to get this out of my system and tell someone anonymously

tldr I live with my parents & was using my dad's computer and he had a porn tab open. not that surprising unfortunately. but the reason im freaking out (& cant tell if im overreacting) is bc it was stepdaughter stuff

and i went in history and typed in 'daughter' and yup theres a couple months of history there

i don't know it's just scary. i have a good relationship with my dad generally but there's definitely some Complicated elements to it. he's very affectionate to me above all my siblings. and now i'm just like.. freaking out.

Is it a coincidence?? There's no way for me to know. I just have to hope it is. Idk it's weird and scary knowing this. I feel like my perspective has totally changed and when he comes home in a couple hours I don't know what I should do.

I'm sorry if this is upsetting or disturbing, if u wanna delete this that's fine. I really hope this isn't out of line to send I'm just upset and disturbed and can't find anything online and aaaah i don't know

I'm really sorry, anon. That is a fucking traumatizing thing to see and you the fact that this is not the first time he has just left porn tabs open for you or siblings to discover is concerning in and of itself.

I don't have a clear answer. Know that all of my suggestions are coming from someone who does not know the finer details and dynamics at play within your life. I also do not know the cultural complications of what my suggestions might bring so PLEASE use your personal discretion. This is your life and I am some random lesbian on the internet just concerned for you.

If you can, you need to tell someone. I don't know if you're underage but if this is unsettling you to the point where you are feeling unsafe, you need to tell someone. I don't know if telling your mom is a viable option but if you can, please do. I say this with the admonition that you may be brushed off or his deeds will be considered as "normal" and that you have nothing to worry about. But if nothing else, have this behavior on public record to those around you.

"But what if it embarrasses him?" He should have fucking thought about that before he left porn tabs open for his literal daughter to find. You deserve to feel safe as much as anyone else, and if you don't, then something needs to change.

Not to make any assumptions, but it concerns me that if this not the first time you have found a porn tab open, that he might have intentionally left it open to be discovered to inspire curiosity in the things he is watching.

Please be careful, anon. I wish I had better words and better advice to give. I'm hoping other women on here will have better advice.

[staceymcgillicuddy]

For the three word sentence prompts: Don’t you dare. Thanks 😊

Oh boy, this one might have inspired a whole new AU. The vague premise in my head is that Eddie spent a couple years in Hawkins before leaving for... elsewhere. But he still did the talent show. And kept up with Gareth, I guess. IDK! if people like it, I might flesh it out into a full thing of college girl Chrissy and bar band Eddie!

“Don’t you dare!”

The words are a whispered admonition; Shawna pays no attention and leaves Chrissy standing, mortified, by the side of the building while she marches over to where the band from earlier is loading equipment into a van. 

“Hey,” says Shawna to the curly-haired drummer, who looks like a muppet and a teddy bear had a baby. “You guys were really great.” 

The drummer stops cramming his kit into the back and turns, giving Shawna a once over and evidently liking what he sees. Which makes sense—she’s in a skintight blue dress with zig-zag green stripes, and her hair is teased and crimped like she’s Tawny Kitaen’s little sister. Or, big sister, considering the size of her boobs. 

Chrissy’s never had a friend like Shawna before. She’s half in love with her because Shawna is scary and brave, and mean sometimes. She does what she wants when she wants to, whether talking back to professors or flirting with bar bands in parking lots. 

“Hey, thanks,” says the drummer, leaning against the van’s edge and grinning at Shawna.

“Do you have, like, a tape or anything?” 

“Uh, we’re working on it. We play here every—” 

He’s cut off by the back door opening, where the reason Chrissy didn’t want Shawna talking to the band emerges. The lead singer, carrying an amp, looks every inch as terrifying as he did onstage, stalking around in tight jeans and a cropped t-shirt that shows his stomach and whose hair makes Chrissy think about Richie Sambora. 

Chrissy kind of has a thing for Richie Sambora. 

“Move,” says the lead singer, and the drummer hops out of the way with milliseconds to spare. 

“Hey,” says Shawna. 

“Eddie,” says the drummer. “This is uh… what’s your name, honey, sorry?” 

“Shawna. And this is Chrissy.” 

Chrissy’s feet shuffle forward before her brain can catch up. Shawna always does this—drags her in to talk to guys when she’s not even sure how she’s feeling about guys these days. Not since she broke up with Jason before the start of freshman year, then had some bad dates, and attended a disastrous frat party in the wake of her freedom. 

“Hi,” she says, only her introduction is drowned out by the lead singer jamming his thumb between the amp and the door. 

“Jesus fuck, Gareth,” he snaps at the drummer. Gareth, apparently. 

“What the fuck did I do?” 

“Move your fucking shit, man. I’m bleeding out for space back here. Hey, sorry.” That’s to Shawna, who he’s looking at with some interest. Obviously. Most guys look twice. 

“Hey.” Shawna nods, then tosses her head at Chrissy. “Chris, come say hi.” 

God, Chrissy should never have said she thought the singer was cute. Idiot. Idiot! 

Still, she goes. Takes Shawna’s hand and lets herself get pulled into her side and smiles at Gareth, then goes stock still when the singer—Eddie—gives her a once over. 

She fully expects he’ll find her wanting. Next to Shawna, she’s still a church mouse. Country mouse. Plain black dress and flats and her hair in a ponytail, and, honestly, she’d wear sexier things, but she never feels quite right in them. Life was easier when all she had to worry about was a cheerleading uniform on Fridays. Choices stink. 

To her surprise, though, Eddie smiles. Leans against the door of the van and says, “Chris, right?” 

“Chrissy,” she corrects, then feels dumb for correcting him. Chrissy’s such a babyish name, but Christine sounds too grown-up, and Chris is just for certain people who know her well. 

“Chrissy.” He tucks some hair behind his ear and smiles. He never once smiled onstage, and it’s a relief to spy some kindness on his face. “You liked the show?” 

“Uh-huh,” she says, which is mostly correct. The music wasn’t her thing, but she really liked watching him perform. 

“Cool. You guys from around here?” 

“We’re at IU,” Shawna supplies. 

“Cool, cool,” he echoes. “We play there sometimes, too.” 

Eddie won’t stop looking at her. He’s doing that thing that guys do where they have a whole conversation without transferring their attention, and it makes her want to squirm. That would be undignified, though, so she fiddles with the sleeve of her dress instead, and hopes to God that Shawna will pick up the loose threads of the fraying conversation.

“Like at parties, or what?” Shawna asks. 

“Sometimes.” Eddie cocks his head to the side, studying Chrissy closely. “Hey, question.” 

“Hmm?” 

“You didn’t grow up in Hawkins, did you?” 

[dino--draws]

On a roll with all these fullbodies, FINALLY have an inked look at my own lil take (inspired a lot by my buddy’s design) on Paradox Admonition Reynders :}

[treasuresfromthearchives]

Taking the Census

Francis William Edmonds American 1854

"The United States Census of 1850 initiated the requirement that heads of households provide information about each of their dependents. The new regulation caused a good deal of confusion. Edmonds’s humorous image, which is the earliest known portrayal of the census-taking process, features a father’s painstaking efforts to recall his family statistics, while several of his children hide from sight. The small framed portrait of George Washington above the mantel evokes not only the genesis of the country’s political system but also the legendary admonition never to tell a lie. The carefully lit interior and wealth of detail in the composition were inspired, in part, by earlier Dutch genre scenes."

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Daily Devotionals for Tuesday, January 28, 2025 

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 4:1-4(KJV): 1 Hear, ye children, the instruction of a father, and attend to know understanding. 2 For I give you good doctrine, forsake ye not my law. 3 For I was my father's son, tender and only beloved in the sight of my mother. 4 He also taught me and said unto me, Let thine heart retain my words: keep my commandments, and live.

Thought for the Day

Verses 1-4 - These verses contain some important instructions for the present generation. Many children have become disrespectful of their father's instructions and anyone else in authority. This creates havoc in society. I thank God for the Christian youth who serve God and respect their elders. These are making a difference in their circle of friends. But, at present, they are a minority. We should all remember to pray for our young people.

Throughout Scripture, children are admonished to obey their parents. The Bible also instructs fathers to be the right kind of parent. "Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right. Honor thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with a promise; that it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth. And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord" (Ephesians 6:1-4).

Prayer Devotional for the Day Dear Father, thank You for the youth of this nation who know You and are attempting to follow You and Your ways. I know it is not easy for them in a society like ours. Give them grace and strength to live the Christian life. Give,  us the holy boldness to witness to their peers. Lord, help us who are parents and grandparents to be the kind of example that will inspire our children and grandchildren to want to know and follow you. Give my offspring respectful hearts for their elders and all those in authority, even as You have instructed. I pray that I will also have a respectful attitude toward those in authority. Dear Lord, when those in authority are wrong, give us the grace to honor the office they represent. Let us be an honorable example to the youth of our day. In Jesus name, I pray. Amen. From: Steven P. Miller, Jacksonville Florida USA @ParkermillerQ,gatekeeperwatchman.org, TM, ‎Founder and Administrator of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups. #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #SPARKERMILLER Monday, January 27, 2025, Jacksonville, Florida USA 5:13:39 PM EST

[dailyanarchistposts]

J.6.1 What are the main obstacles to raising free children?

The biggest obstacle is the training and character of most parents, physicians, and educators. Individuals within a hierarchical society create psychological walls/defences around themselves and these will obviously have an effect both on the mental and physical state of the individual and so their capacity for living a free life and experiencing pleasure. Such parents then try (often unconsciously) to stifle the life-energy in children. There are, for example, the child’s natural vocal expressions (shouting, screaming, bellowing, crying, etc.) and natural body motility. As Reich noted:

“Small children go through a phase of development characterised by vigorous activity of the voice musculature. The joy the infant derives from loud noises (crying, shrieking, and forming a variety of sounds) is regarded by many parents as pathological aggressiveness. The children are accordingly admonished not to scream, to be ‘still,’ etc. The impulses of the voice apparatus are inhibited, its musculature becomes chronically contracted, and the child becomes quiet, ‘well-brought-up,’ and withdrawn. The effect of such mistreatment is soon manifested in eating disturbances, general apathy, pallor of the face, etc. Speech disturbances and retardation of speech development are presumably caused in this manner. In the adult we see the effects of such mistreatment in the form of spasms of the throat. The automatic constrictions of the glottis and the deep throat musculature, with subsequent inhibition of the aggressive impulses of the head and neck, seems to be particularly characteristic.” [Children of the Future, p. 128]

“Clinical experience has taught us,” Reich concluded, “that small children must be allowed to ‘shout themselves out’ when the shouting is inspired by pleasure. This might be disagreeable to some parents, but questions of education must be decided exclusively in the interests of the child, not in those of the adults.” [Op. Cit., p. 128]

Besides deadening life energy in the body, such stifling also inhibits the anxiety generated by the presence of anti-social, cruel, and perverse impulses within the psyche — for example, destructiveness, sadism, greed, power hunger, brutality, etc. (impulses referred to by Reich as “secondary” drives). In other words, this reduces our ability to empathise with others and so the internal ethical guidelines we all develop are blunted, making us more likely tp express such secondary, anti-social, drives. So, ironically, these secondary drives result from the suppression of the primary drives and the sensations of pleasure associated with them. These secondary drives develop because the only emotional expressions that can get through a person’s defences are distorted, harsh, and/or mechanical. In other words, compulsive morality (i.e. acting according to externally imposed rules) becomes necessary to control the secondary drives which compulsion itself creates. By such processes, authoritarian child-rearing becomes self-justifying:

“Psychoanalysts have failed to distinguish between primary natural and secondary perverse, cruel drives, and they are continuously killing nature in the new-born while they try to extinguish the ‘brutish little animal.’ They are completely ignorant of the fact that it is exactly this killing of the natural principle which creates the secondary perverse and cruel nature, human nature so called, and that these artificial cultural creations in turn make compulsive moralism and brutal laws necessary.” [Reich, Op. Cit., p. 17–18]

Moralism, however, can never get at the root of the problem of secondary drives, but in fact only increases the pressure of crime and guilt. The real solution is to let children develop what Reich calls natural self-regulation. This can be done only by not subjecting them to punishment, coercion, threats, moralistic lectures and admonitions, withdrawal of love, etc. in an attempt to inhibit their spontaneous expression of natural life-impulses. The systematic development of the emphatic tendencies of the young infant is the best way to “socialise” and restrict activities that are harmful to the others. As A.S. Neill pointed out “self-regulation implies a belief in the goodness of human nature; a belief that there is not, and never was, original sin.” [Summerhill, p. 103]

According to Neill, children who are given freedom from birth and not forced to conform to parental expectations spontaneously learn how to keep themselves clean and develop social qualities like courtesy, common sense, an interest in learning, respect for the rights of others, and so forth. However, once the child has been armoured through authoritarian methods intended to force it to develop such qualities, it becomes out of touch with its living core and therefore no longer able to develop self-regulation. In this stage it becomes harder and harder for the pro-social emotions to shape the developing mode of life of the new member of society. At that point, when the secondary drives develop, parental authoritarianism becomes a necessity.

This oppression produces an inability to tolerate freedom. The vast majority of people develop this automatically from the way they are raised and is what makes the whole subject of bringing up children of crucial importance to anarchists. Reich concluded that if parents do not suppress nature in the first place, then no anti-social drives will be created and no authoritarianism will be required to suppress them: ”What you so desperately and vainly try to achieve by way of compulsion and admonition is there in the new-born infant ready to live and function. Let it grow as nature requires, and change our institutions accordingly.” [Op. Cit., p. 47] So in order to raise psychologically healthy children, parents need to acquire self-knowledge, particularly of how internal conflicts develop in family relationships, and to free themselves as much as possible from neurotic forms of behaviour. The difficulty of parents acquiring such self-knowledge and sufficiently de-conditioning themselves is obviously another obstacle to raising self-regulated children.

However, the greatest obstacle is the fact that twisting mechanisms set in so very early in life, i.e. soon after birth. Hence it is important for parents to obtain a thorough knowledge of what rigid suppressions are and how they function, so that from the beginning they can prevent (or at least decrease) them from forming in their children. Finally, Reich cautioned that it is crucial to avoid any mixing of concepts: “One cannot mix a bit of self-regulation with a bit of moral demand. Either we trust nature as basically decent and self-regulatory or we do not, and then there is only one way, that of training by compulsion. It is essential to grasp the fact that the two ways of upbringing do not go together.” [Op. Cit., p. 46]