#conjointly

[fideidefenswhore]

Margaret had been through more abrupt changes of fortune than this, and she adapted quickly. The king and queen were responsible for Mary's humiliation, but Margaret seems to have forgiven them both. She was delighted to be in Anne's circle and Henry, in turn, was delighted with her. At the New Year's celebrations in 1534 she gave him a gift and he called her to him so that he could give her a piece of plate in person. Before long Margaret was a fixture of the court, 'beautiful and highly esteemed.'

Ring, Morgan. 2017. So High a Blood : The Story of Margaret Douglas.

[astralnymphh]

making ellie ur anal princess ౨ৎ

𓆩.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝𓆪: subbottom!ellie, bit of a brat obv, spanking ofc!! rough n' nasty, sorta soft, an iota of lore buildup tbh im not doing all that, some fluff at the end i think, 2.4k+ words . BIG TEXT VERSION . MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO . ART BY LOTTIE

Wintry brumes swept through Jackson this week had to have carried some alteration of spores, for Ellie to even chew her teeth over the word yes. Bizarre as the idea should strike— "Wanna try it from behind?"— recoiling lips over her ear rim, sunken in a seat behind, and masticating denimed ass with your honed nails; Ellie was all in, blushed to the bone.

Was she at all candid originally? No, that goes without saying. Humdrums and spectrums of explicitness on your part pervade each crack and inept cough of chatter that she starts days beforehand, throat literally cracking whenever the topic emerges on dreary mornings or alive nights. Twiddly of her thumbs or knees, breaks the thick silence on a spitty click— uncalled for finger jabbing you to see if you managed to evade sleep long enough, "Um, so— it really won't hurt if I.. god— this is so fuckin'.. uh, keep.. practicing?"

Practicing. One way to say it. You assured Ellie; "Yeah, unless you're a masochist praying for a death wish." which maybe could've been articulated nicer, but she's your girlfriend, and one of her major ground-breakers for falling smitten with you— your humor. Spankin' her butt the second she spanks yours, (In turn making her the butt of the running: "That's gonna be you on Friday." joke), or nonchalantly slipping the notion that she'd "Look hotter than a V.S model." in a black thong, flopping your head and averting casual gaze to blank spaces undeserving of your eyes as if your comment wouldn't fuck with her brain for the ticking remains of daylight. Just crude humor, and not serious concepts, right?

So beyond the shadow of doubt, of course, when she's bare lain, spreadeagled of her legs caging you in, maraschino face smudged flat to her bed, perky ass in yours and teased by the caphead of your plastic dick— you give all the humor that girl can get, and fourfold.

"Don't need to clench, baby. Your butt isn't going anywhere."

Ellie clenching for her oh so cherished life felt more like she was squeezing the nervous nectar out, pearly bullets brought upon by all that foreplay— or anticipation— bedazzle the creased parts and frowns she knits as you wrap a grip on your lubed length and brush the tip against her asscrack. It prods at her, mentally. Pokes her to open up, literally.

A drawn-out whine, low and wispy, breezes her throat, "Shut up," jaw tensing grit conjointly, "You're such an ass— and don't you dare make an ass joke, I swear." you suppose she attempted to rein in some essence of control with that suppressed tone of threat, cute threat if we're mincing no words, but it's futile. Can't rise above when you're pinned below.

You snicker, contrary hand swerving over and beginning to palm her butt's half-taut half-doughy feel, and yielding it to a pull, "Hmhm." the soft heat of your touch inciting her muscles to relax, just a slight. "Want you to put it in, set the pace for me, mkay?" your voice curls at the end, tilting your face even if she couldn't exactly see.

"Huh.." she releases a breathy chuckle into the mattress, then shimmies onto her ruddy, pockmarked elbows to allow a pivot of her head. "Makin' me do all the work, can't you just do it already?" she gripes, teetering between frustration and impatience, and nearly hissing, "Fuck me already." instead. Fair skin contours along her shoulder blades as she reaches back, little dimples you wanna deepen with presses.

Muggy fingers skid the bends of your knuckles, "Ts' cute when you do." and you slacken your grip, the harness lacing your hips tugging in nooks as she takes you and levels it to her hole, not quite inserting it before another scoff unbinds from her throat.

"Uh-huh, totally." the brat card was the only thing she could play, Ellie being Ellie— plus, fuck you for shoving such a vulnerability into her by eclipsing over her body and deciphering which touches and words made her tick into a, "Yes ma'am." this past week, making her eager to get piped dumb already, even if the thought conflicts with humiliation.

Intrinsic carnality, had her whipped subconsciously. Hot blood always pooled at her cheeks whenever the mere prediction of how this would go down flashed her mind, having to mosey out of her place for a contemplative stroll. Contemplate, contemplate, ooze her eyes into the raw white, winter void, "Fuck." she couldn't help but moan, and throb untouched.

Bands flex across her grasp as she tries pulling you inside, but her body is a bit too.. antsy, taut. "Babe, it's not— mmph, it's not going in. I think we have to—"

"Have to.. what?"

"Fuck!" a rushed moan tears as skin slaps, harsh and bridging on real tears. Of pain, or by pleasure? Ellie can't convey, but her thrust into the spongy bed and toss of head begging to get strung in your fist impart the guess that fuck— you've stretched her deep, bottomed in perfectly.

You let her hole familiarize the girth for a second prior to drawing out and slamming back in, "Uh!" plush globes rippling wherever the skin spilled on top of your hip bones jamming into her. The pressure clamping you in causes a tiny kickback against your folds, chafes your clit underneath. "Fuckin' tight, aren't you?" you're a damn taunt, winching that whisper ardent to her neck. Evilly; wicked as lusty spirits tempt.

"Holy fuck, holy fu— uhh, uh uh, shit!" streams of nasty and broken up groans hike out of her gaped mouth with each pump into her, poor girl having a gouge out with the bedsheets as a means of taking you, "It's so— uhn! So fuckin' bi— I can't, hhn'can't.."

Musing sighs blur into a pitying coo, you reply, "Mhm, you can. Play with 'urself baby."

"Okay, okay—" Ellie unfolds a breathlessness, "—unhh babeee, fuckkk me." and runs it into straught curses as her tatted forearm lodges in the narrow space separating her from drenched cotton, and forks her pussy lips open, rubbing her neglected bud in sloppy strokes. Her teeth bore into her soft, coral lips when her fingers tug just right, so delectably right she could come undone then and there with your added penetration, waning from pain to indeed— pleasure. Diverts her fingers a moment to massage all the dripping slick and lube through her labia 'till it drew pretty webs between, and resumes again, noisily as ever, "Ghnna' cum, guhhh— ohh my goodd." and so nasty; dribbles of thin saliva traversing the swell of her chin.

Goddamn, she's loud. Sure, it's adorable how you pump her into a blathering mess on your cock, but this was unforeseen; surrendering her every moan to get bumped out nonsensically. Because or for you, both possibly, or definitely. "Already? Aww." you pity, muffling your speech to render your voice into thorns of mock disappointment, but in reality, you just quickened your humps. Shown audibly in the squeaks of her bed frame squawking under your combined weights.

Two splotchy flowerbeds of crimson brim at her asscheeks, owing to how intense this had began and trickled into. Hmm, could make it redder if we so wished.

Wish it is.

Quietude holds, and relents in a hard snap; a sting pricks the entirety of your palm crashing down on her butt, watching as the gentle red gains a series of richer rays and hearing the result of said slap punching through her larynx.

"Ughnn!"

Continuing: you slap once, slap twice, times it by thrice, and drive her into a quiver, procuring those wails that have your goosebumps downright rigid as the earth.

"Uh— uh— agh!"

Retiring your hands thriven of ache, they find oasis curving in the shape of her waist. "So good, isn't it Els? Can tell by how loud you're being, my sloppy girl." praised you, silkily sweet upon the lacy edge of slamming your cockhead rough on her walls.

"Yes, yessh. Make me shl— make me.. fuck— make m'your sloppy girl.." past her grace, is a side long since cowered. It's like you molded her brain to abruptly covet the feeling spurting inside her pelvis. From her spine, unto her clit, a ticklish string invokes its fray, flitting her eyes to darker heavens within her skull.

You coast your knees further up until they parked aside her hips, slanting your groin so you could plunge her wider and deeper, ending up with a draw of lubrication landsliding out. Sheer size alone— she's spread her on your strap thickly enough to stimulate certain sweet spots, and god can you tell when you do hit them. Resistance punts the strap base viciously back, dragging a yelp from your lungs. All the squelches coming from her two holes, egged you to an insatiable fucking. Arousal scorched the curves of your cheeks, in love with that sound, infatuated with her pussy, her ass, how ace of a learner she is.

Ellie's calves give upon sensation and hurtle up, rotating her ankle downwards and pushing cinched toes smushed on your bouncing hind— because that infamous pinch now consumes her fattened clit, riding her sleek-glistened fingers doggishly to pursue that heavenly itch. An oncoming recital of whines and growls coats her timbre, "Baby, uhh— babe— m'gonna cum now, dammit.. 'cum all over you— yeah." pleading for you to hasten up in buggy nudges of her heel, butting your ass.

"Oh yeah?" you swirl muse, arching your thumb into the arch her spine slowly welds into, swooning when her head lies atop her ear and a suffused, smiling expression meets your behold.

"Mhm, hmph!" a hitched gulp interrupts her, "You're too fuckin'— mhh, too fuckin good at t-this." inching into a cocky laugh for a blink in time, then swallows it returned to a screw of overwhelm in her facial muscles. She snakes her free paw under yours set on her waist, collecting it and dragging you to grope a handful of her breast, erect nipples flicking stripes due to your humps jostling her.

Weepy eyes bordered by remnants of her past tears cried inflict a bridge between pride and more praise into the pleasure points of your body, and you had no clue before this that she cried. It felt.. gratifying, seeing freckled flesh resemble pebbled waters in spring, ribbons of light warping along her cheeks.

"Those tears for me?" even so, you lower your lips and lap the pellucid stain up, puckering a smooch in its wake.

But you keep ramming a flood out.

The nod she bobs is swift, swifter than her gullet will ever deliver in this state— nor could now, a contort bolting her face inwards subsequent to a mouse-pitched moan leaving the luring lips of your lover bearing pressure into squirting her orgasm all over you, "Oh fuck! Fuck!" she keens and cants her ass on you, jerking swipes over her clit wildly to fufill the ecstasy piping through her pussy. A timid and weak spray noises below— and then came the webs of liquid pearls cascading around her clit, connecting to her fingerprints as she delicately taps the beady bud.

She got thrashy, and clenched your cock in, having bitten off more than she could chew— and it thrilled your cunt to know that; fire catches, and so does the knot twisting your insides. Relish leaves your mouth as you finish base-deep in your girlfriend, imposing her to your skin-bulged grip of her soft breast melting into your palm lines as you cum, "Ohh, yes baby— good girl, good girl.. fuckk." imprinting her mind with how good that felt in your every reaction, forcing that fervor into her existence.

"I fuckin' love you, babe, I love you so fuckin' muh— yes yes yes.." Ellie reciprocates passion received, unto passion given; parting her muck sweat face from the bed and sundering that space in front of yours, suckling your bottom lip into your mouth and sharing the excess teardrops streaked upon her top lips, unlocking to simply just— breathe onto your mouth, straining the last of her orgasm in gradually dwindling moans.

One last peck at her lips charged by a high, you both temper your elation strewn throughout and become aware of the loss for air in your lungs, inhaling the scent of each other done up in exertion. The stillness sustains for a bit, kind of just drunkenly staring 'till one of you broke into a lopsided smirk— no doubt Ellie, and you just had to mingle lips again. So, you slide out carefully with the expected threads of lube following after, and you roam your damp palms away from her ass and chest and branch them on either side of her clammy waist. Her contagious giggles inspire you to mirror the same sounds as you slink behind her and spoon her, smushing the ball of your nose into her hot nape reeking of sweat.

"Was that everything you imagined— or a pain in the ass?" quiped you, quick rolling kisses on her skin, specks of your spit smearing.

Cringe compels her to split lips from you, chuckling, "Really? Right now?" a row of notches digging between her brows, and a shuffle of her legs rub at the filthy wetness layering her groin, "You've got to be kidding me."

"So it was a pain?"

All you get as a response is her shoulder blades swelling as she breathes in, and shies her face away, giving you the hair-in-your-face treatment. "Guess.. after that, 'could go for a couple snacks. I'm hungry."

You squint, "By snacks, do you mean your two-course aftersex meal?" retorting.

"Yeah! That's like, the best thing to do right after." and, her enthusiastic claim isn't all that spoiled. Ellie commonly does it, and she fucking loves it. Hot meals under some wacky or heartfelt discussion, sometimes checking in on the other person, sometimes asking how they felt— but this time, confessions would stay an enigmatic afterthought to ponder about, as really, she fucking loved what you did to her. But that's— forward. Give her a couple days and a couple hours toppled above the usual hour she knocks slumped into somnolence, and she'll admit that. Sappy sweet on the lobe of your ear, indifferent on whether you're wide awake to overhear or not.

"You felt good, uh, by the way. It hurt at first, but, I think my butt's healed from the trauma. Chair isn't uncomfortable to sit in anymore, hmph. Love you, don't ask me about it in the morning. I'll pretend you don't exist. Night, babe."

Something tells me she wants you to do it again.

[adorkablecringeworks]

That Color Looks Good on You

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Pairing: rottmnt x gn!reader

Warnings: Mild swearing

Summery: Up next Mikey! 83

Author’s Note:

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Part 2: Magic Mike

The lair is calm. Everyone is in their respective places, doing their own thing. All around peaceful and relaxed…

Ooooh boy is that about to change.

Chaos has arrived! Putting the menthos in the cola, NO ONE is safe today.

First up on the list, the youngest, the baby (don’t let him hear that he’ll totally throttle you), Mikey. The clanging of pots and pans echoing through the abandoned train station the Hamato’s call home made it easy in finding him. Currently located over in his domain, the kitchen. It looks like he’s getting an early start in prepping dinner.

You and Mikey cook together regularly, with you assist him or he assisting you. It’s always fun bouncing ideas of each other as well as teaching each other about different foods and new cooking techniques. Leo would join sometimes, but it usually ends up getting too crowded with everyone stumbling over each other. So he often sits to the side. Either joining the conversation or simply reading his comics, just sharing the same space and enjoying the company.

For today, Mikey’s on his own, razzmatazzing in his own element. You would normally join him when you're over, but not this time. You have a mission to accomplish with Leo.

You and your co-conspirator approach with caution, quietly peering through the doorway. There he is, singing along to his music playing from his good ol’ trusty boombox. Throwing little dance moves here and there. All in all, It’s quite adorable…

He has no clue to what’s coming.

Unfortunately, you can’t help but bop your head along to his tunes. Leo elbows in your arm to get you back into focus. You grumble back under your breath as you rub your arm. Damn those boybands and their infectiously catchy music.

Time to get to work.

=======================================================

Look at this!

A wild Michelangelo! A true rarity!

Michelangelo’s are traditionally called Mikey but are also know as; Michael, Mike, Miguel, Angelo, Angie or simply as Orange.

Agile as they are adorable, Mikey’s are far stronger than they appear.

They are known for their friendly, sweet dispositions and are quite affectionate. They are highly social creatures, having strong familial bonds and usually are found in family groups of 4. Although Mikey’s have been reported being seen in bales of up to 7 individuals.

Do not let their adorable and friendly nature fool you. Mikey’s are fast, powerful and destructive. They have the ability to lift bajillion times their own weight.

Though not easily provoked, Mikey’s do have a limit to their patience and is a force to be reckoned with when pushed too far.

=======================================================

You do your best (frankly, that’s not saying much. It’s just terrible) Down Unda accent for your nature documentary as your slider records you. Conjointly, with overly dramatic hand gestures along your narration. Leo can’t help his snickering once you’ve finished.

“Shshshshshs ssshush shshusssh shhsh”

You adjust yourself to get back into your role

“Ahahem”

=======================================================

As I mentioned before, Mikey’s are friendly and affectionate so approaching is relatively easy. Mirroring this temperament, he’ll be none the wiser on what’s to come.

=======================================================

With that, you stand up and enter the kitchen.

“Hey big man!” You casually approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck and give him a soft squeeze for a hug. Causing him too squeak softly.

“Getting an early start on Dindin?”

(Dindin… Really? You’re a nerd)

“Hey yourself!” His smile never faltering, Mikey returns the hug by leaning back into you. He flashes his signature blinding smile your way (why do you always forget your damn sunglasses when you’re around him? Even from this angle!).

“I didn’t know you were coming over! Will you be staying for dinner?”

“That depends on what’s on the menu for tonight?”

You peer down over his shoulder to see what he has lined up. Surrounding him are different spices and seasonings along with some garlic and olive oil (it all smells so good). In front is a cutting board, his chef knife, and a bowl of-

“Brussels sprouts again!?” You grimace at the offending vegetable. There it sits, a vibrant, healthy green, mocking. Throughly washed and ready to be prepped.

“Why Mikey? Why must you do this to us?” You whine, bouncing up and down on your toes. “You’re not gonna do that soup again are ya?”

The box turtle chuckles at the pout he can hear in your voice

“Come on it wasn’t that bad.”

“Dude… it had paprika and trout…”

“Paprika and TROUT!” Leo echos in disbelief, making his appearance known.

“Hi Leo. I should of known.” Mikey rolls his eyes and let’s out a sigh. “Where there is one, the other isn’t that far behind.” Despite the sass, his smile never wavers.

His response makes you and Leo chuckle. It seems that the youngest has yet to notice Leo filming with his phone.

Mikey picks up his knife to begin stemming and peeling the bustle with you comfortably still attached to his back. Apparently very much relaxed and content in your arms. All the while Leo continues his rant.

“Not even Raph could stomach it little brother.” He shakes his head. “And he ate that origami salami that had been manhandled by two foot clan’s hands, that have touch pizza supreme knows what, from off that old ship’s floor for Zza sake!”

“Yeah I’m all up for trying new stuff but that…. That certainly did not ‘Unleash The Flavor’.” Leo and you shudder simultaneously.

Mikey pauses in his work to deadpan at the both of you, then continues with his task at hand.

Leo saunters over to his usual spot over at the kitchen island takes a seat on his claimed stool. He keeps his phone steady, resting his elbows on the counter as he continues to film. This angle is perfect to capture everything. Mikey finally picks up on his older brother holding his phone out but pays it no mind. Figuring that he’s just watching some video on the internet. Yet, he somehow completely misses that Leo’s face is marked up.

“And let’s not forget the time you put it on pizza. For all things sacred you don’t put brussels spouts on pizza Miguel!”

Mikey snubs his sibling with a ‘humph’. “Raph ate that just fine.”

You chuckle at the the two of them.

“Well, for ‘all things sacred’,” You make air quotes with your hands over Mikey’s shoulder, “You don’t put pineapple on pizza either lEOnArDo.” Then wrapping them around Mikey again.

Leo scowls at your teasing, sticking his tongue out at you in an pouty blep (adorable). Both you and Mikey snicker.

“Aaannyways that’s not saying much Michael since it’s a known fact he eats moldy bread.”

“Ok ok your right, I agree.” The turtle in orange deflates, “The soup was not my finest moment and the pizza wasn’t that great either. But this is time it’s different!” He perks back up and peeks over his shoulder at you. “They be roasted with garlic, rosemary, olive oil with a dash of wasabi.”

He finishes his presentation with the bounce of his brows.

“Ok now THAT sounds yummy.” You glance over to your companion who nods in approval.

“Ok then yes I’m staying if there is enough.”

“Duh! There’s always enough for you.” He beams at you once more.

There! You catch your opening.

“Thank you Mikey” You nuzzle your cheek against his. “You’re the best!”

As someone who’s known for his physical affection, he readily nuzzles back, giggling, unknowing in what’s about to befall on him.

Seeing the affectionate display of you and his baby brother spreads a warmth through in the leader’s chest and a gentle smile on his face. Thankful for how the important people on his life getting along so well, bonding so easily. However, the feeling is short live, his gentle smile morphs back to his signature smirk for he knows what’s next.

The poor lovable, ignorant fool.

With Mikey momentarily distracted from his form his task at hand, he lets you turn him around and cup his face with in your hands. He in turns, grasp your wrists gently for support. His face is your favorite. Always so soft and squishy, so you squish, causing his eyes close.

“You are the sweetest ever!”

The bush returns to his cheeks at your praise however, before he can respond, (and once again) you attack.

Your smooches are precise and swift, producing a squeal from the youngest ninja followed by a torrent of incredibly epizootic laughter. It takes all of your willpower to fight his affliction.

On the other hand, Leo has no need to resist and freely cackles along. It makes your task that much harder. A few snorts and giggles manage to escape you in which resulted in small raspberries against Mikey’s face.

That was a mistake.

Leo’s cackles delves into a deep belly laugh. Laughing so hard he drops his head to the counter and bangs his fist against it. Remembering that he’s suppose to be filming, he fights not to fall off his stool as he over corrects himself.

Meanwhile Mikey is laughing so hard that he starts to tremble and completely loses the ability to breathe.

The situation is hilariously getting out of hand and you are finally forced to stop. Finally able to let your giggles free. You check to see if you were able to enough coverage. You’ve succeeded and are loving how your shade of lipstick compliments the soft flush of the turtle’s cheeks. As well as adoring just absolutely how infectious his smile is with his adorable tooth gap on prominent display.

“What was all that for? You’ve stayed for dinner many times already”

“I know. Just wanted you let you know how much I appreciate you. I don’t think I do that enough.”

Mission accomplished. You let go of his face and he, in turn, your wrists.

“Well let you get back to it.” You give the orange ninja one last kiss on the squishiest part of his cheek, making him give one last squeal as you pull away. With lingering chuckles, Leo takes his cue and follows you out of the kitchen. Carefully wiping the tears from his eyes as to not smear the lipstick on his face.

As swiftly as you arrived, you and your cohort depart. Leaving Mikey there beaming and sooo confused.

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[lazyworksinprogress]

a very long post about hozier - unreal earth

Index:

Lyrical allusions

Visual imagery

Reading list

Interviews

Reviews

Lyrical allusions

The lyrics on Unreal Unearth are informed by texts such as Irish writer Flann O’Brien’s philosophical 1967 novel, The Third Policeman, Dante's Inferno, and Jonathon Swift.

De Selby (Part 1)

At last, when all of the world is asleep You take in the blackness of air The likes of a darkness so deep That God at the start couldn’t bear

"Human existence being an hallucination containing in itself the secondary hallucinations of day and night (the latter an insanitary condition of the atmosphere due to accretions of black air) it ill becomes any man of sense to be concerned at the illusory approach of the supreme hallucination known as death." The Third Policeman - Flann O'Brien

Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Ach tagais 'nós na hoíche Trína chéile; le chéile Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Claochlaithe is claochlú an ealaín Is ealaín dubh í Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Ach tagais 'nós na hoíche Trína chéilе; le chéile Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Claochlaithe is claochlú an еalaín Is ealaín dubh í

Although your bright and light […] You arrived to me like nightfall, you come like nightfall You and I sort of mixed together You and I metamorphosized So that same idea of you can’t see where one begins and where one ends that, that is some kind of metamorphosis of some kind

“a body with another body inside it in turn, thousands of such bodies within each other like the skins of an onion, receding to some unimaginable ultimum”

De Selby (Part 2)

What you're given, what you live in Darlin', it finds a way to live in you

"The gross and net result of it is that people who spent most of their natural lives riding iron bicycles over the rocky roadsteads of this parish get their personalities mixed up with the personalities of their bicycle as a result of the interchanging of the atoms of each of them and you would be surprised at the number of people in these parts who are nearly half people and half bicycles"

First Time

Remember once I told you about How before I heard it from your mouth My name would always hit my ears as such an awful sound

First Time refers to Beatrice Smiles: Canto XXXI - Dante's meeting with Beatrice after being left by Virgil, where she rebukes him for his sins. Dante does not remember his name but recognises Beatrice. He was dunked into the River of Forgetting by Matelda

“Respond, you of poor memory, confess. _Lethe awaits. Your thoughts are undeterred.”

These days I think I owe my life To flowers that were left here by my mother Ain't that like them, giftin' life to you again

Francesca

In Dante's Inferno, the character of Beatrice embodies love inspired by God - she is a religious object that should inspire faith, devotion, and salvation. By contrast, the character of Francesca da Rimini is encountered in the Terrace of Lust. She was a medieval noblewoman who was killed by her husband, Giovanni Malatesta upon discovering an affair between her and Paolo Malatesta (his brother). She represents love that leads one's soul to destruction.

I would not change it each time Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I I would not change it each time

"Love led us to one death, conjointly felled. __For him who slew us, Cäina waits below."

I Carrion (Icarian)

One deep breath out from the sky I've reached a rarer height now that I can confirm All our weight is just a burden offered to us by the world

This song has a connection with Inferno 17. Phaeton, Icarus, Daedalus and Arachne: are symbolic of Ulysses, the embodiment of transgression in Dante’s personal mythography. Icarus is a figure of fear for because he was equipped by his father to alter the boundaries of man's physical nature. It is the sin of pride that leads one to folly.

Eat Your Young

“Eat Your Young”, a contemporary riff on the Irish writer Jonathan Swift’s 1729 satirical essay “A Modest Proposal” that suggests Irish people eat their children to alleviate their hunger and poverty.

Come and get some Skinnin' the children for a war drum Puttin' food on the table sellin' bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young

The first verse also contains allusions to Canto 6 of Inferno - this level is related to "gluttony" but it's used by Dante to discuss the political landscape and moral failures of the City of Florence. Gluttony, in this case, is defined as excessive desire for dominion and power. So Hozier comments on inequality and poverty with a distinctly political air.

Damage Gets Done

Here Hozier refers to Canto 7 of Inferno and the concept of misura - a lack of moderation or self-control

And darlin', I haven't felt it since then I don't know how the feelin' ended But I know being reckless and young Is not how the damage gets done

In this Canto, Dante is discussing wealth management - hoarding and wasteful spending. While avarice is a traditionally Christian sin, Dante inserts the sin of prodigality by himself. This tells us that Dante's moral standard is not essentially Christian. Hozier also plays with the intentions of the texts he refers to and inserts his own takes on philosophy and biography. Very Dantean, if you ask me.

Who We Are

I think this is a narrative shift similar to Canto 8-9 where the fallibility of Virgil is explored and the tension between faith and fear.

You only feel it when it's lost Gettin' through still has a cost Quietly, it slips through your fingers, love Falling from you drop by drop What I had left here I just held it tight So someone with your eyes might come in time To hold me like water Or Christ, hold me like a knife

Son of Nyx

All Things End

The mystery at the heart of Inferno 10, the mystery that generates its enormous poetic power, is the connection of love to sin.

All Things End is superficially about the end of a relationship but it's also about heresy. The specific heresy in the canto is Epicureanism: materialism that suggests the soul dies with the body. It is a denial of the idea of an immortal soul and a "wilful separation of the soul from God". The Epicureans in Canto 10 are represented as eternally trapped in the temporary and ephemeral materialistic reality of the present. They are denied what is eternal and transcendent (ie divine)

And all things end All that we intend is scrawled in sand And slips right through our hands And just knowing That everything will end Should not change our plans When wе begin again

To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuarithe)

‘Uiscefhuarithe’, as described by Hozier, is an irish word for ‘something that has been made cold by water’.

Butchered Tongue

The Genius annotation gives a lot of detail here: In “Butchered Tongue”, Hozier tackles the 7th Circle of Hell Canto XII to XVII, known as the ‘Circle of Violence or Hell of the Violent and Bestial’ which is one of the lower circles of Hell and is divided into three distinct rings, each punishing different types of violence. The track focuses mainly on the first ring called the ‘Outer Ring’ where those who commit violence against others and their property are punished by being submerged in a river of boiling blood called the Phlegethôn, and centaurs patrol the area, shooting arrows at those who emerge from the blood.

The song has a number of allusions to the horrors of colonial violence.

Anything But

I think this song refers to Canto 26 which establishes the critical metaphor that equates desire with flying. Here Dante encounters Ulysses - the embodiment of the epic wandering hero.

"But here one must fly, I mean with the swift wings and the pinions of great desire."

Canto 26 is critical of imperial ambitions and expansionism as Dante casts the city of Florence as a giant bird of prey whose wings beat over land and sea. This is thought as representing a specter of tyranny.

Dante presents Ulysses as the ultimate flawed hero that embodies the expression of desire as flight. Hozier expresses his desire for flight and wandering in Anything But.

I wanna be the shadow when my bright future's behind me I wanna be the last thing anybody ever sees I hear he touches your hand, and then you fly away together If I had his job, you would live forever

Abstract (Psychopomp)

Here Hozier references a childhood trauma of witnessing an animal being hit by a car and Canto 28. It's somewhat alike to the canto in a metatextual sense because it presents a gruesome picture. In Inferno 28 souls are mutilated by devils. The language is pretty clinical and graphic, like the song.

"Who, even with untrammeled words and many attempts at telling, ever could recount in full the blood and wounds that I now saw?."

The poor thing in the road, its eye still glistening The cold wet of your nose, the earth from a distance

Unknown / Nth

This one has a lot of references that have been discussed by Hozier for its allusions to the ninth circle of Hell and Cantos 34. The ninth circle is sometimes referred to as treachery but the sin is fraud.

betrayal is fraud committed against those who trust us

Hozier said he conceived of Satan/the Devil as the first prisoner of hell. I've got to link the Digital Dante article about this Canto because it's very relevant:

You know the distance never made a difference to me I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea Ignored the vastness between all that can be seen And all that we believe So I thought you were like an angel to me

First Light

One bright morning changes all things Soft and easy as your breathing, you wake Your eyes open at first a thousand miles away But turning shoot a silver bullet point-blank range And I can scarce believe what I'm believing in Could this be how every day begins?

"Whichever day it was, it was a gentle day – mild, magical and innocent with great sailings of white cloud serene and impregnable in the high sky, moving along like kingly swans on quiet water. The sun was in the neighbourhood also, distributing his enchantment unobtrusively, colouring the sides of things that were unalive and livening the hearts of living things" - The Third Policeman

Visual imagery

"Down into the earth where dead men go I would go soon and maybe come out of it again in some healthy way, free and innocent of all human perplexity." - The Third Policeman

"Not everyone know how I killed old Phillip Mathers, smashing his jaw in with my spade." - The Third Policeman - Flann O'Brien

“If a man stands before a mirror and sees in it his reflection, what he sees is not a true reproduction of himself but a picture of himself when he was a younger man”

Reading list

“Eat Your Young”, a contemporary riff on the Irish writer Jonathan Swift’s 1729 essay “A Modest Proposal”

The Third Policeman by Flann O’Brien: an expert investigation

Bestselling author Michael Foley celebrates a comic, Kafkaesque masterpiece and explores what makes it great. But why was it cannibalised

The Irish Times

The Icarian Community Nauvoo | Paul M. Angle

Re-admitted to France, Cabet made plans to move his ideal so­ciety from the printed page to reality. In December 1847, he an­nounced that Ic

fee.org|Paul M. Angle

An overview of the 1798 Irish rebellion

Interviews

“We betray ourselves in the act of opening up to somebody and believing so much,” Hozier says, passing a hand across his face. He looks weary, all of a sudden, voice cracking a little. “Our eyes betray us, our hearts betray us, our minds betray us. And that’s the ‘Nth’ reference: we open ourselves up to something, only to betray ourselves…”

Hell, at Least According to Hozier, Never Sounded Sweeter

On the eve of his return to the spotlight, the Irish crooner mulls over Ovid, 'Inferno,' and his status as the internet’s forest king.

Vanity Fair|Condé Nast

Hozier: ‘I think everyone goes through their version of hell’

The Irish artist is releasing his long-awaited third record ‘Unreal Unearth’, which was inspired by Dante’s Inferno. He speaks to Roisin O’C

The Independent

“There’s a subtle element and I wanted to be light and playful with it. The album can be taken as a collection of songs, but also as a little bit of a journey. It starts with a descent and I’ve arranged the songs according to their themes into nine circles, just playfully reflecting Dante’s nine circles and then an ascent at the end”

the album reflects upon two of the nine circles of hell: gluttony and heresy.

“There’s some moments that are a bit more old school and stuff that’s Nineties grunge sounding too. For other moments we were leaning into playing with a lot of synthesisers. But we’ve arranged the album into circles and the EP just represents two of those – those soul moments within it.” - Rolling Stone Interview

Divine Comedy explainers

Dante's 9 Circles of Hell: A Guide to the Structure of 'Inferno'

Here's a structural overview for the nine circles of hell in Book 1 (Inferno) of Dante Alighier's Divine Comedy.

ThoughtCo

Full Glossary for The Divine Comedy: Inferno

Absalom Bible. David's favorite son; killed after rebelling against his father: 2 Samuel 18.Acheron the River of Sorrow.Achilles Greek Mytho

cliffsnotes.com

Dante Alighieri: Mythology in the Divine Comedy

Mythology in the Divine Comedy  Throughout Dante’s work “The Divine Comedy”, the author uses Greek and Roman mythology to elevate and to pro

ITAL3550SLU - Medieval & Renaissance Italian Literature

Reviews

Hozier - 'Unreal Unearth' review: Epic, expansive and ethereal

On his third album, the Irish sing-songwriter utilizes simplicity and space while venturing into new sonic territory — Read the NME review

NME|Aliya Chaudhry

Hozier: Unreal Unearth album review — solitude, spirituality and a touch of Dante | Financial Times

The singer’s roar is as impressive as ever but he also deploys other vocal styles to fine effect in his third album

ft.com

On Unreal Unearth, Hozier Makes His Boldest Work Yet

On Unreal Unearth, Hozier works through biblical source material and Dante's Inferno to make sense of isolation and human sorrow.

Paste Magazine

Hozier – ‘Unreal Unearth’ album review: A beautiful, angst-filled journey through the nine circles of hell

'Unreal Unearth' dives into the concept of Dante's Inferno.

Far Out Magazine

Unreal Unearth review | Hozier merges pop with profound prose

From the haunting echoes of Irish folklore to the pulsating beats of indie pop, this is Hozier at his artistic peak. Read our Unreal Unearth

whynow

Album: Hozier - Unreal, Unearth

Only a few artists can be said to have exploded on to the scene like Hozier. The solo, Irish musician – full name Andrew John Hozier-Byrne –

theartsdesk.com

[plateauofmemories]

"I took advantage of the opportunity, and told her that my old master, Van Helsing, the great specialist, was coming to stay with me, and that I would put her in his charge conjointly with myself"

Mrs. Westenra: Oh, a specialist? What does he specialize in?

Seward: ...yes.

[dongnan001]

This is an if line I made up:if Zahariel and Corswain are conjointly related.I.e., they used the same identity:Lord Cypher.

I think it's gonna be fun.And Zahariel must be the weaker party,because he can't defeat Corswain.

p2 shows the timeline of Legacy of Caliban.I guess when Cypher was being interrogated by Asmodai was Zahariel (smile

p3 Zahariel vs Corswain on Caliban (pre-destruction).

[loving-n0t-heyting]

for an agent A to control the answer to a question Q and a distinct agent A* to control the answer to a question Q*, Q and Q* must be modally independent: any answer to the latter must be compossible with any answer to the former. Or that, if this isnt true, this is bc As control over Q or A*s over Q* must be only “limited” or “partial” or w/e.

Here is a principle i think i accept:

if an agent knows, holding fixed everything else it knows, that were it to undertake some action α in its power, an outcome O would obtain, and were it to take some incompatible action α' in its power an incompatible outcome O' would obtain, and the agent takes α, it controls which of O and O' occurs. Smth like this principle underwrites much of the motivation of causal decision theiry.

Consider this case:

Smith and Jones decide to kill meredith, and the way they have contrived to do so is by sneaking into her coffee a couple of chemicals (one having each) individually harmless but conjointly lethal. Only if both slip their part of the poison in will she die. They have to each put theirs in separately, not in the others presence, having to trust the other will do his part. And, in fact, they both do, knowing as they choose to follow thru that the other will as well (and would irrespective of their own follow thru). Accordingly, meredith dies.

By the principle, smith and jones each control her death. Nor does it make sense to suggest they each control part of it: as the principle and case description make clear, her life is left entirely in the hands of each, bc absent either she would be left in perfect health. And so the original principle i was quoting way above is contradicted

There is a temptation to say there is some vicious circularity present: smiths choice is made on the basis of his knowledge of jones choice, while jones choice thereby known is made on the basis of that very choice of smiths! But the description and principle said nothing about "bases" of choice, just about counterfactuals and thr knowledge thereof. What this worry about circularity really proves is that thinking of one being made on the basis of another is the wrong way to think of it. Better to say, if one is going to set up a causal-rational order of this sort at all: the individual choices are two parts of a more basic action, undertaken by smith and jones jointly, of whose effects they are each fully the author, and which is the common basis of their individual choices. This is reflected in how we would treat such a case criminally: smith and jones are not each given half the length of a full murder sentence, the murder is punished in full twice over

And this primacy of collective action, whereby from a certain circular pov each contributor thru his choice explains the choice of the other (one might even say: each of their choices is a member part one of the other), does not mean a shrinking of their freedom and power; rather, it augments that freedom, so that each achieves accompanied what neither could alone

This is not an exotic or contrived story. To the contrary, we play out ones like it every day

You can generalise this to much larger scales, less mutually certain setups, and higher stakes, im pretty sure. This is prolly discussed among serious theorists too, idk im just kinda spitballing

[oldschoolhiphoplust]

Know Your Hip-Hop Pioneers: Grandmaster Caz

Image Credit: Joe Conzo

Once the declaration of hip-hop was born, known as Casanova Fly to Grandmaster Caz he was the first to conjointly rap and DJ. In the early 1980s, as the leading MC of the Cold Crush Brothers, Grandmaster Caz's lethal rhymes healthily vexed fellow emcees. Their battle against The Fantastic Five in the paramount film Wild Style became a prominent moment for hip-hop culture. Grandmaster Caz became the elite of hip-hop supremacy as his fluid rhymes ended up on Sugarhill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” without proper accrediting.

By Ime Ekpo

*Originally published in 2016

[bluecoolr]

Branch

Part 2 of Darron and Baeron's Backstory

Link to Part 1

The training hall had been Darron's home for the last three years. The hall itself. Tucked in a quiet corner was a cot, where he slept; a small chest, where he kept his clothes; and a chamber pot. Darron believed that the lack of privacy - the utter indignity he was forced to endure - was part of the punishment T'zeklochar had cooked up.

Darron spent his first sixteen years as a weanling drow cared for conjointly by his father and teacher, but the brunt of his upbringing fell to T’zeklochar, who was more predisposed to raise the stubborn twin.

His refusal to undergo schooling as a noble consort was testimony to his stubbornness.

He had come into his sixteenth year as a slender, spritely sprig of a boy, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. A dancer's body.

Ryld had come to his boys proposing dancing lessons. Dancing lessons, by Lolth! It didn't matter that Darron was close to mastering the Draa Velve (“two sword”) fighting style, or that Baeron was by far the best knife thrower House Barriurden had ever produced. No, they had to take dancing lessons.

Darron had screamed “No!” and “I won't!” through the years more times than T’zeklochar could count. This time, he refused to hear it.

He'd grabbed the boy by the arms and squeezed. “I have indulged you for long enough,” he said through gritted teeth. “You will do as your father says.”

“I. Won't.”

T’zeklochar's grip tightened.

“I'm going to be a warrior, and I will train, even if I have to break into the training hall everyday.”

T’zeklochar fumed, his obsidian skin turning darker as his face flushed. He turned to Ryld. “He gets that from you,” he admonished.

“And who found it entertaining enough to nurture it?” was Ryld's haughty reply.

T'zeklochar released Darron with a defeated sigh. “Fine.” The smile he pulled made Darron shrink back. “I'll make you beg for dancing lessons by the end of the month.”

The Weapons Master could be gentle when he wanted to be. Darron could remember getting cuddled and hugged as a weanling. Even the odd kiss on the cheek.

He wasn't averse to corporal punishment, however, but those were reserved for when Darron had been particularly difficult.

Darron's first sparring session with T’zeklochar as a sixteen-year-old involved no inhibition on the master's end. Darron froze when his guardian punched him full-force in the face.

“You seem upset,” T’zeklochar remarked.

“You just hit me!”

“And you think a real opponent won't? Quit your whining.”

He'd walked away from the spar grumbling and covered in bruises. Matron Dinbreena had laughed. “Aww… you look even prettier this dark,” she told him.

Baeron, the more docile of the two, seemed to actually enjoy his lessons. Well, he'd enjoy anything as long as he was showered with splendid gifts and praise, the buffoon.

Darron often saw him with his instructor - a strikingly masculine Szarkai. An alabaster-skinned drow, what his people called a “ghost spider”. Their complexion allowed them to pass for surface elves and carry out business on behalf of wealthy clients.

Nobody spoke his name. Darron doubted if anyone knew his name, but he knew that Szarkai were all spies and assassins.

He wondered whether the “dancing lessons” were so bad after all. And with how much Baeron and the Szarkai flirted, he wondered what kind of “dancing lessons” they had exactly.

Now, at eighteen, Darron was sinewy and quick; his motion fluid, precise, and cutting - the potential for dance still very apparent. He wore his long hair down. It hung low to his waist, straight and shiny like molten silver. It was a symbol of his nobility, and something to distract from his ice-blue eyes.

He was a voracious reader, preferring books about romance and adventure. If he wasn't reading on his cot (or trying his hand at poetry of his own), Darron was on his feet, wielding two swords and practicing against a dummy.

This was how Nalaghar found him on his visit from Melee Magthere.

Nalaghar was Secondboy of House Barriurden, the Patron's son, who didn't exactly admire Darron or his ambition of becoming a drow warrior. In his world, there was no room for rivals.

“Well!” he cried out, his deep voice bouncing off the walls. “Look who it is!”

Darron stood his ground. Drow were short by surface dweller standards. Darron stood at 5 feet and 4 inches. Tall, but he was not likely to grow anymore. Even still, Nalaghar loomed over him, cutting an imposing figure in his black, belted tunic and trousers. He was also wearing light armor, making Darron feel extremely vulnerable in just his soft boots and cotton pants.

He tightened his grip on the sword handles as his half-brother strode up to him, a peevish glint in his blood-red eyes.

“If it isn't our very own little Drizzt!”

Darron could feel himself grow red in the face. A very unbecoming color.

“What are you, now?” Nalaghar flicked Darron's ear. “Huh? Eighteen?”

Darron gave a curt nod.

“Only two more years until you qualify for the Academy,” remarked Nalaghar loftily. He was uncomfortably close now, advancing even as Darron moved to put space between them. “I can't wait,” growled Nalaghar, “for you to come to Melee Magthere. I'll be sure to arrange a little accident for you. One where they'll have to scrape what's left of you off the floor. Matron Dinbreena can keep you in a jar.”

The Patron's other sons flanked Nalaghar, baring their pearly teeth in nasty grins.

This scene had played out dozens of times before; Nalaghar would bait him into a fight, Darron would bite, and he would be whipped for insubordination. He would not take the bait, not this time.

Without a word, Darron walked away.

Infuriated by this display of emotional control, Nalaghar closed his fist around Darron's long hair and gave it a savage tug. “Don't you turn your back on me, you miserable insect!” he snarled.

Instinctively, Darron reached back to free himself. When Nalaghar's grip showed no signs of slacking, he twisted about and punched his half-brother in the mouth.

Nalaghar let go, stumbling from the hit. His bleeding gums stained his teeth scarlet.

Heaving like a beast, Nalaghar locked his gaze on the young drow and slowly unsheathed his sword.

The training hall echoed with the clash of swords and the muffled thumps of fists against flesh. Quickness and well-rehearsed blows are no match against brute strength, and Nalaghar quickly dominated the fight.

Even as Darron successfully cut and disarmed him, aid came from Nalaghar's brothers, who readily tossed him their swords.

Finally, locked in a parry, Darron forced himself to withstand Nalaghar's crushing weight as he tried to force Darron's knees to bend. An awful glimmer suddenly came into Nalaghar's eyes.

In a split second, Darron's vision darkened, and a loud ringing erupted in his ears. Nalaghar had headbutted him.

He did it a second time, and a third. By the fourth time, Darron had lost his grip on his weapons and was staggering blindly in the middle of the hall.

He fell down, groaning from the agony of a broken nose.

“You think you're a warrior, do you?” He pinned Darron down with his boot, making him sputter. With one swift motion, he'd swooped down and bundled up Darron's long, silver hair in his fist.

“You're nothing but the bastard son of a kitchen slave, and that won't ever change. No matter how many times your whore of a father beds the Weapons Master.”

The hairs on the back of Darron's head stood on end when he felt the cold blade of Nalaghar's sword at his nape. He was going to shear his hair off.

Before he could, a knife whizzed past Nalaghar's ear. He reached up to his cheek where a cut began to bleed.

“The next one, I'll put between your eyes,” Baeron warned, brandishing a knife in each hand.

The Szarkai stood by the door, commending Baeron's graceful form and perfect aim.

“You -!”

“That's enough, boy!”

Nalaghar faltered as the Weapons Master strode past Baeron, who got to his knees to examine his brother.

“You may be a master at Melee Magthere, but here you're still only Secondboy.”

Nalaghar looked like a kicked puppy, looking up desperately at T’zeklochar. He'd spent his entire life trying to impress the Weapons Master - his hero. He dressed like him, moved like him, even wore his hair in twists like him, but he never got more than a passive nod at his best efforts.

“Now, get out.” T’zeklochar shot a glare at the Patron's sons. “All of you.”

Darron awoke several minutes later, his head pillowed on Baeron's lap. The moment his eyes focused, and his gurgling turned to words, he was propped up on his back.

“I did terrible in that fight.”

“Nalaghar had to headbutt you four times before you fell, so that's saying something.” Baeron sopped up the blood from Darron's nose with his jacket. “Now, hold still.”

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

September 6th

Terrible change for the worse. Come at once; do not lose an hour. I hold over telegram to Holmwood till have seen you.

IT’S LA TRAVIATA ALL OVER AGAIN (bis)

My news to-day is not so good. Lucy this morning had gone back a bit.

Euphemism of the century

Mrs. Westenra was naturally anxious concerning Lucy, and has consulted me professionally about her. I took advantage of the opportunity, and told her that my old master, Van Helsing, the great specialist, was coming to stay with me, and that I would put her in his charge conjointly with myself; so now we can come and go without alarming her unduly, for a shock to her would mean sudden death, and this, in Lucy's weak condition, might be disastrous to her.

UH OH.

< Prev 🦇 Next >

[scottishcommune]

Allowing for the nuances that appear in all great books, The Origin of Species accounts for the way in which individual species originate, evolve, adapt, survive, change, or pay the penalty of extinction as if they were fairly isolated from their environment. In that account, any one species stands for the world of life as a whole, in isolation from the life-forms that normally interact with it and with which it is interdependent. Although predators depend upon their prey, to be sure, Darwin portrays the strand from ancestor to descendant in lofty isolation, such that early eohippus rises, step by step, from its plebeian estate to attain the aristocratic grandeur of a sleek race horse. The paleontological diagramming of bones from former “missing links” to the culminating beauty of Equus caballus more closely resembles the adaptation of Robinson Crusoe from an English seafarer to a self-sufficient island dweller than the reality of a truly emerging being.

This reality is contextual in an ecological sense. The horse lived not only among its predators and food but in creatively interactive relationships with a great variety of plants and animals. It evolved not alone but in ever-changing ecocommunities, such that the “rise” of Equus caballus occurred conjointly with that of other herbivores that shared and maintained their grasslands and even played a major role in creating them. The string of bones that traces eohippus to Equus is evidence of the succession of ecocommunities in which the ancestral animal and its descendants interacted with other life-forms.

One could more properly modify The Origin of Species to read as the evolution of ecocommunities as well as the evolution of species. Indeed, placing the community in the foreground of evolution does not deny the integrity of species, their capacity for variation, or their unique lines of development. Species become vital participants in their own evolution — active beings, not merely passive components — taking full account of their nascent freedom in the natural process.

- Murray Bookchin, Freedom and Necessity in Nature: A Problem in Ecological Ethics

[dannoromann]

Holy Trinity

When God first made man, He said, “Let Us make man,” not let Me, but “Let Us make man in Our own image.” The covenant Elohim said to each other, “Let Us unitedly become the Creator of man.” So, when in ages far gone by in eternity, they said, “Let Us save man,” it was not the Father who said, “Let Me save man,” but the Three Persons conjointly said with One consent, “Let Us save man.” It is to me…

[gctchell]

💭 If Lilith and Lucifer are both banished to Hell and neither can actually leave..

💭 What if there was just one enormous house - perhaps a mansion, hell, perhaps an old castle that the Ars Goetia personally set out to mark their sigils within, side-by-side? They can pop out of Hell into this house. They can't leave it, but they have a place to pop off to for a while and watch the world through the windows.

💭 Naturally, this house would be regarded haunted as HELL and only the most daring soul attempts to encroach upon it. It's very difficult to get into, the place is locked down tight. Either you have to make a deal with a high ranking demon to be granted access inside, who is going to read you inside out to make sure you're exactly the sort of soul they want to have wandering into this house, or you must be a very dedicated worshipper of one, the other, or both. Someone genuine in faith. There is a feeling being very closely watched the entire time, though. No sneaking around, your movements are monitored.

💭 As such, perhaps this can be known as the 'Deal House' ; this is where one comes to make deals with Lilith and/or Lucifer. This is how the concept of 'Deals with the Devil' are born, and it's been happening for a very, very, very long time. The abode just keeps getting updated and refurbished, but keeping its old, haunting charm.

💭 This is also a place where the dedicated simply come to leave offerings. It's considered a pilgrimage in the couple's religions, one invented by the humans, but one that they have accepted. The first place you walk into is the offerings room - it has two enormous altars side-by-side, and it's clear which belong to who.

💭 Lilith and Lucifer enjoy coming up here, and they have brought Charlie with them (also Pomni & Lilu, as well!). Charlie is actually able to fully leave the house and make her way around, something that made both of their hearts drop with shock and immediately spike into high parental concern. They didn't see that coming! They probably thought their cursed passed onto their baby girls. NOPE!

HOLDONHOLDONHOLDONGETBACKHERE-

💭 However, it's not only known as the 'Deal House'. This is where the birth of vampirism amongst the human race originated, as Lilith is its progenitor. It all began with those who were specifically her devotionalists, the deeply faithful who she offered the gift of potential immortality to. It was not a trap, she told the full details of what would come with changing their nature from human to night creature - the good and the awful, the downfalls and the bliss, and just how to create another. Many still accepted, and they were turned. Vampirism splintered off from them and infected the world beyond Lilith's followers. This has led to the Deal House also being known conjointly as the House of Night.

Given this nature, there are a lot of blood offerings left on Lilith's altar.

💭 Heaven hates this place! Priests and Preachers, Pastors and any Clergyman who try to break in to bless the joint just get devoured or offered at the altars by those who watch the place - if they are not handled by the lovely couple themselves (Fizzmodeus style). It's truly godforsaken, a black spot on the Earth where absolutely no holy power can tread. It belongs to the Queen and King of Hell.

[cloudcountry]

I'M SORRY I KEEP SPAMMING YOU 😭😭😭

I've been re-reading irl Edgar Allan Poe's stories, and I'm losing my damn mindddd

Look at thissss

[Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token] -The Raven

AAAHHHGGGGGG I CAN'T EXPLAIN WHY BUT HOLY SHIT IT'S SO GOOD??? I LIKED IT BEFORE BUT IT'S JUST HITTING DIFFERENT NOW IDK

[But may God shield and deliver me from the fangs of the Arch-Fiend ! No sooner had the reverberation of my blows sunk into silence, than I was answered by a voice from within the tomb! -- by a cry, at first muffled and broken, like the sobbing of a child, and then quickly swelling into one long, loud, and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and inhuman -- a howl -- a wailing shriek, half of horror and half of triumph, such as might have arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the throats of the dammed in their agony and of the demons that exult in the damnation.] - The Black Cat

AAAGHHHHHHH THE WORDING IDK ITS JUST GREAT *Giggling and kicking my feet like a small child*

I LOVE HOW THINGS ARE DESCRIBED!!!

I've been reading this guy's poems and stories since I was a little kid, and he's the reason I know so many words and like so much dark(ish) content. I lost my book full of his stories, but thankfully, they're all free to read if you just look them up.

Again, sorry for spamming you lol I just really needed to rant about Poe again lololol

Aside from my obsession, I do have something to say!

Please take care of yourself, I know I say it every day, but I really do hope you are. I know you're pretty stressed and busy, so I worry for you sometimes. Even though I know you can take care of yourself.

OH NO I GET IT I WAS AN EDGAR ALLAN POE GIRLIE A WHILE AGO,.,.,. that phase was about two years long i think!! i have a raven skull necklace hehehe

thank you for your concern :C i will do my best <33

[hackfuel]

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Even if you’ve got a tireless crew, a Truly powerful and unique plan and come what may you have got organized the cash, however, your startup won\’t be successful in case you don’t have a decent area to figure. The geographical point is fantastically crucial for each the employee furthermore due to the fact the customer because it gives Associate in Nursing ambience to each of them, this is notably essential.

Earlier, the entrepreneurs were familiar with operating on rented buildings and flats that don’t have numerous centres and rectangular measures highly-priced. But with a financial place of business residence in Bangalore known as the co-working concept, the whole thing has changed. Co-operating areas rectangular degree massive homes and halls for the duration of which multiple companies will paintings along by means of sharing the resources furnished in the co-operating workplaces.

The phrase sharing indicates that the decrement in investments and costs that is directly proportional to an increase in earnings, that is all Associate in Nursing bourgeois dreams. When you square measure working throughout a co-running residence, you will stocks instrumentality like printers, fax machines, scanners, repetition machines, and so forth. And you may incline your very own non-public residence that is awesome from any other anyplace you\’ll work quietly.

Conference hall booking Bangalore rectangular measure startup workplace house that is supplied with brief and comfortable web affiliation that is needed for the marketers. Most of these regions conjointly provide options kind of a term backup of information and a couple of layers of protection. Co-operating areas square measure like your very own house and you may get admission to them 24/7 and 12 months with no downside.

They even have a couple of virtually ready rooms that a replacement bourgeois will completely dream of, these conference rooms leave a very good effect on the shoppers and also you furthermore may also get self-belief when you provide a presentation in one among those rooms.

Almost all of the Coworking residents in Bangalore have personal kitchens, restrooms, and lounges that square degrees shared with the aid of all of the companies working there. These things conjointly allow in slicing the price of protection of the corporate and ultimately will grow the income of the bourgeois.

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Conference hall booking in Bangalore-Shared Office Space In Bangalore

Being an Associate in Nursing bourgeois is particularly troublesome recently mainly for the duration of a place like Conference hall booking Bangalore place of business house Bangalore this is frequently due to the extremely good opposition and unfitness of the marketplace all over the global. The key matters to becoming a winning bourgeois square degree hard work, powerful plan, coins and maximum vast a respectable vicinity to parent.

Even if you’ve got a tireless crew, a Truly powerful and unique plan and come what may you have got organized the cash, however, your startup won\’t be successful in case you don’t have a decent area to figure. The geographical point is fantastically crucial for each the employee furthermore due to the fact the customer because it gives Associate in Nursing ambience to each of them, this is notably essential.

Earlier, the entrepreneurs were familiar with operating on rented buildings and flats that don’t have numerous centres and rectangular measures highly-priced. But with a financial place of business residence in Bangalore known as the co-working concept, the whole thing has changed. Co-operating areas rectangular degree massive homes and halls for the duration of which multiple companies will paintings along by means of sharing the resources furnished in the co-operating workplaces.

The phrase sharing indicates that the decrement in investments and costs that is directly proportional to an increase in earnings, that is all Associate in Nursing bourgeois dreams. When you square measure working throughout a co-running residence, you will stocks instrumentality like printers, fax machines, scanners, repetition machines, and so forth. And you may incline your very own non-public residence that is awesome from any other anyplace you\’ll work quietly.

Conference hall booking Bangalore rectangular measure startup workplace house that is supplied with brief and comfortable web affiliation that is needed for the marketers. Most of these regions conjointly provide options kind of a term backup of information and a couple of layers of protection. Co-operating areas square measure like your very own house and you may get admission to them 24/7 and 12 months with no downside.

They even have a couple of virtually ready rooms that a replacement bourgeois will completely dream of, these conference rooms leave a very good effect on the shoppers and also you furthermore may also get self-belief when you provide a presentation in one among those rooms.

Almost all of the Coworking residents in Bangalore have personal kitchens, restrooms, and lounges that square degrees shared with the aid of all of the companies working there. These things conjointly allow in slicing the price of protection of the corporate and ultimately will grow the income of the bourgeois.