#i leaned into being stoned

[baby-prophet]

summary of my night. I was expecting to cringe so so hard at the rap but it was pretty good and only a little bit corny OH and tattoos. wish I got one but....... nah not my first tattoo lol

[onesidedradiostatic]

If velvette is aroace and Val is demiromantic does this make vox the token allo

reference to this ask? I think it is? but um

I think you missed out part of my answer anon

I like the idea of alloro demisexual vox, mostly cause val and alastor are both people vox has known for AGES (longer than you or I have been alive) and well he made sexual comments in relation to alastor in episode 8 and makes out with and sleeps with val but was literally the only vee completely uninterested in lucifer's "NOW I am going to FUCK you" to adam (in the case of aroace velvette idk maybe velvette is aegosexual, I don't usually hold onto it though cause I don't have a solid velvette sexuality hc)

incredibly funny to me he just lost all interest after alastor fled, was screaming about how hard he was and how watching alastor get the shit beaten out of him was better than sex but the prospect of lucifer and adam going at it in bed? uninterested.

alloromantic is just cause the idea of vox love at first sight-ing alastor is funny to me (but I'm fine with that not being the case) and it's like the inverse of demiro allosexual val. I mean I'd just as easily buy him being double demi but idk, vox being alloromantic is just funny to me especially in the context of having interest in arospec people (alastor (canon) and val (hc))

[palossssssand]

1, 2, and 3 for Rena :D

the renaaaaa

1. What's your oc's gender identity? What's their relationship to their gender?

She's Girl. She hasn't given it all that much thought and is perfectly comfortable with her assigned gender. She is firm on her expression, though, she subconsciously likes to feel "dangerous" and "unapproachable" due to growing up with overbearing parental figures.

2. What's your oc's orientation? (Romantic/sexual/platonic alterous ect) Do they have opinions about it?

I think she may be a lesbian. or bisexual with a preference for women. And perhaps aromantic, or someone who doesn't really want to bother with the labels. I say "I think" mainly because admittedly I myself haven't given it much thought, but it does feel fitting.

3. How did your oc discover themself? Did something cause them to question, or did they always know?

Most likely Rena either encountered a real life butch lesbian or watched media with one in it and was like "ohhh okay. she's so me"

[squuote]

the narrator being a construct that depends on relevancy and to be heard and thought about in order to live is something that can be so personal. it makes me think a lot.

[dullahandyke]

Films good movies good banshees of inisherin was good

[comradecowplant]

Love how the new PLL writers were like okay FINE fans were right to point out that A was never really a slasher villain and continuing to use that moniker for these new villains is a slap in the face to the original evil girlbosses-- Mona, Cece, and Ello Spensah-- who worked 👏 hard 👏 scheming and stooging (sometimes YEARS of preparation!) in order to torture the original liars...... so for these new girls we will call the villains B instead :)

[todayisafridaynight]

fathers day is this month how am i going to inflict psychic damage on myself

[thebeetleball]

i love you giant footprint in fo1 i love you psychic flesh hallway tryin to flay your brain and psykers in general i love you ghosts and talking deathclaws in fo2 i love you mothman in 76

[mybrainproblems]

sometimes (okay, a lot of the times) i think about how a showrunner took 12 years of his combined work, both as a general writer and eventual showrunner, and just lined everything up and blasted it to bits in 40 minutes.

and that takes either a lot of effort or lots of interference bc the thing that dabb has consistently put forward is that dean wants a home, wants a life, wants to retire.

[cursedmystic]

okay im awake.

[mariniacipher]

okay, but i have to say- i love this so much? like… there’s this subtle element almost of horror and i think it’s so wonderful?

like…. i’ve recently read the hp works of @astolat and smth that really caught my eye with them was the way that the wonder of wizardry comes with a cost, a certain measure of viciousness, and the way houses work especially- absorbing the magic of their inhabitants to gain a semblance of sentience, and thus being either a grand or, if one fails to care for it, a great danger

(pls read house proud if this at all speaks to any of y’all)

ANYWAY- this reminded me of that, but what i think is interesting is that this Nameless Fear seems to come from the stone itself-

the dwarves create beauty out of stone, a grandeur and a homeliness, but in doing so they also make themselves vulnerable to the danger that lies in the depths of the earth, displaying that same balance between beauty and danger

and i think it’s so interesting and such a lovely concept. and it really makes me wonder what dwells beneath khazad-dûm, although i also dont want to know-

i feel like part of what tickles me here is the lack of knowledge. there was a great city and it dug too deep, and was buried under tragedy as a result. assigning a monster to it seems almost too mundane for it

[jlf23tumble]

about the broke up/never broke up theme; I don’t think it’s reaching to say that they broke up looking at their lyrics and signs. I, personally, don’t think they’ve broken up. not fully. but I definitely don’t think they’ve had a perfect ao3 relationship. I think they’ve had some rocky patches, more than once. I think they’ve fought a lot. I think they’ve had small “breaks” where they are don’t talk to me leave me alone. I definitely don’t think they’ve had a fairytale relationship where everything is always good between them, but I don’t think they broke up. I think that all of these fights and leave me alone’s where intensive, and I think they sucked at communication. especially when the band broke up and they were no longer required to spend every hour with each other due to band stuff. and all of this, together with them both being dramatic people, can create songs that sound like break up songs imo.

I guess I wanted to show that not all ppl in the never broke up camp believes they’ve had a fairytale story. but there are some that believe that they might not have been far from a break up, but just didn’t take that final step, if that makes sense. you don’t have to publish this if you don’t want to, and if this was a really unwanted message, then I apologize!! have a good day/night

I got three in a row in this vein, and I'm not one to just say the same thing and give a wall of anon answers, so to the other two, see the tags! For this particular anon, I get what you're saying--I do!--but I also want this camp to lean into why it's such a goddamned problem to say the words "break up." Especially if you can easily say yeah, they had all these fights and arguments and I'm not talking to you periods, it's not a fairytale, they could have "had a break" for a week (a month, a year) and then gotten back together (because you CAN say that, I totally see that, too), so why can't the words "break up" be part of that narrative?? And I ask because I can think of at least two hardcore break-up points in time off the top of my head, zero research, and I'm sure more out there beyond lyrics. It's not an illogical thing to say, and yet for some reason it is? Like it's this forbidden concept, and much like people saying it's some kind of travesty for Louis to be perceived as a father, I do not get the issue here, why is this a problem??? AGAIN, I'm not saying I know for a fact they broke up, I can point to all kinds of "back together moments," too, but it grinds my gears that so many people can jump out there and say they know for a FACT that they never ever broke up, they've only fucked one person--each other--it's a concept that blows my mind, given so many things pointing to the contrary! (anon, I love you, please never apologize, I always want your messages, you can even DM me if it's easier, hope you're having a good day/night, too!)

[exileorexodus]

School this time around scares me, yes , but not nearly as bad as the crippling fear that’s grappled me my entire life

There’s a comfort in knowing that now that I’ve gone through it, something akin to seven rings of hell, nothing will hurt nearly as bad

I won’t have to go through it again

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

It's just a spot of weak vinegar

Good tree fertilizer

[beggars-opera]

On the road leading into the center of Concord, Massachusetts, there sits a house.

It is a plain, colonial-style house, of which there are many along this road. It has sea green and buff paint, a historical plaque, and one of the most multi-layered stories I have ever encountered to showcase that history is continuous, complicated, and most importantly, fragmentary, unless you know where to look.

So, where to start? The plaque.

There's some usual information here: Benjamin Barron built the house in 1716, and years later it was a "witness house" to the start of the American Revolution. And then, something unusual: a note about an enslaved man named John Jack whose epitaph is "world famous."

Where is this epitaph? Right around the corner in the town center.

It reads:

God wills us free; man wills us slaves. I will as God wills; God’s will be done. Here lies the body of JOHN JACK a native of Africa who died March 1773 aged about 60 years Tho’ born in a land of slavery, He was born free. Tho’ he lived in a land of liberty, He lived a slave. Till by his honest, tho’ stolen labors, He acquired the source of slavery, Which gave him his freedom; Tho’ not long before Death, the grand tyrant Gave him his final emancipation, And set him on a footing with kings. Tho’ a slave to vice, He practised those virtues Without which kings are but slaves.

We don't know precisely when the man first known only as Jack was purchased by Benjamin Barron. We do know that he, along with an enslaved woman named Violet, were listed in Barron's estate upon his death in 1754. Assuming his gravestone is accurate, at that time Jack would have been about 40 and had apparently learned the shoemaking trade from his enslaver. With his "honest, though stolen labors" he was then able to earn enough money to eventually purchase his freedom from the remaining Barron family and change his name to John, keeping Jack as a last name rather than using his enslaver's.

John Jack died, poor but free, in 1773, just two years before the Revolutionary War started. Presumably as part of setting up his own estate, he became a client of local lawyer Daniel Bliss, brother-in-law to the minister, William Emerson. Bliss and Emerson were in a massive family feud that spilled into the rest of the town, as Bliss was notoriously loyal to the crown, eventually letting British soldiers stay in his home and giving them information about Patriot activities.

Daniel Bliss also had abolitionist leanings. And after hearing John's story, he was angry.

Here was a man who had been kidnapped from his home country, dragged across the ocean, and treated as an animal for decades. Countless others were being brutalized in the same way, in the same town that claimed to love liberty and freedom. Reverend Emerson railed against the British government from the pulpit, and he himself was an enslaver.

It wouldn't do. John Jack deserved so much more. So, when he died, Bliss personally paid for a large gravestone and wrote its epitaph to blast the town's hypocrisy from the top of Burial Hill. When the British soldiers trudged through the cemetery on April 19th, 1775, they were so struck that they wrote the words down and published them in the British newspapers, and that hypocrisy passed around Europe as well. And the stone is still there today.

You know whose stone doesn't survive in the burial ground?

Benjamin Barron's.

Or any of his family that I know of. Which is absolutely astonishing, because this story is about to get even more complicated.

Benjamin Barron was a middle-class shoemaker in a suburb that wouldn't become famous until decades after his death. He lived a simple life only made possible by chattel slavery, and he will never show up in a U.S. history textbook.

But he had a wife, and a family. His widow, Betty Barron, from whom John purchased his freedom, whose name does not appear on her home's plaque or anywhere else in town, does appear either by name or in passing in every single one of those textbooks.

Terrible colonial spelling of all names in their marriage record aside, you may have heard her maiden name before:

Betty Parris was born into a slaveholding family in 1683, in a time when it was fairly common for not only Black, but also Indigenous people to be enslaved. It was also a time of war, religious extremism, and severe paranoia in a pre-scientific frontier. And so it was that at the age of nine, Betty pointed a finger at the Arawak woman enslaved in her Salem home, named Titibe, and accused her of witchcraft.

Yes, that Betty Parris.

Her accusations may have started the Salem Witch trials, but unlike her peers, she did not stay in the action for long. As a minor, she was not allowed to testify at court, and as the minister's daughter, she was too high-profile to be allowed near the courtroom circus. Betty's parents sent her to live with relatives during the proceedings, at which point her "bewitchment" was cured, though we're still unsure if she had psychosomatic problems solved by being away from stress, if she stopped because the public stopped listening, or if she stopped because she no longer had adults prompting her.

Following the witch hysteria, the Parrises moved several times as her infamous father struggled to hold down a job and deal with his family's reputation. Eventually they landed in Concord, where Betty met Benjamin and married him at the age of 26, presumably having had no more encounters with Satan in the preceding seventeen years. She lived an undocumented life and died, obscure and forgotten, in 1760, just five years before the Stamp Act crisis plunged America into a revolution, a living bridge between the old world and the new.

I often wonder how much Betty's story followed her throughout her life. People must have talked. Did they whisper in the town square, "Do you know what she did when she was a girl?" Did John Jack hear the stories of how she had previously treated the enslaved people in her life? Did that hasten his desperation to get out? And what of Daniel Bliss; did he know this history as well, seeing the double indignity of it all? Did he stop and think about how much in the world had changed in less than a century since his neighbor was born?

We'll never know.

All that's left is a gravestone, and a house with an insufficient plaque.

[intoxicating-goddess]

TW - intox, somno, cnc, forced breeding

We're talking on a video call like we usually do in the evenings. I'm smoking a bowl to help wind down for the night. When I finish, you suggest I might want to do another. I've been really stressed out lately, it'd be helpful to have a little more, you tell me. I have been stressed lately, why not? I fill another bowl half way, but you convince me to make it another full one. After I'm done the second bowl, you can see how faded I am. I tell you that the weed is hitting me really hard and I think I'm gonna go lie down. You wish me well and say goodnight. I stumble through the house in a stoned haze, eventually making it into bed. I drowsily strip myself of my clothes before rolling over and falling asleep. I'm too deep in slumber to hear the door unlock. I gave you a spare key for emergencies, after all. You creep into my bedroom and see my naked body sprawled across the bed. You quietly take off your clothes and climb on top of me. Kissing your way down my back while running your hands all over my limp body. Feeling up my ass and tits and then finally, my pussy. I let out soft moans in my sleep. As you rub my clit and fondle my ass, I start to become wet. You then line yourself up with my slick entrance and ram your entire cock inside me. I wake with a scream, a concoction of panic and pleasure. As you begin violently thrusting, I try to get my bearings. My head is so dizzy and my body is so heavy. I let out a feeble scream as I try to resist, but it's no use. My body is far to weak and I can't put up a fight. I am pinned in place by the weight of your body on top of me. I have no idea who is inside me, but I can't seem to focus on anything but how good it feels. You lean down on top of me and begin grabbing at my breast. You pinch my nipple and I can't help but let out a moan. You chuckle softly between grunts, you know a filthy whore like me likes being used. Your thrusts are so hard and deep that it doesn't take long for me to cum on your cock. You continue to fuck me for what feels like hours. I am so out of it that I have no concept of time. I eventually let myself drown in the pleasure. It doesn't matter who is fucking me, the only thing that matters is how good it feels. After you've lost track of how many times you've made me to cum, you feel yourself get close. Your thrusts become faster and faster. You pull my hips hard against you, forcing your cock as deep into my pussy as possible. With a loud grunt, you let your load out inside me. You pull out and let my hips go, causing me to slump onto the bed. You watch as your seed seeps out of my throughly used pussy. You then put your clothes back on and leave, locking the door behind you. I lay in the wet patch knowing I should feel mortified, but instead I feel euphoric. Having my rapists seed pouring from my violated pussy turns me on all the more. It's not long before the exhaustion and intoxication lull me back into a deep sleep. I sleep well knowing my only purpose is to be a good cocksleeve. It doesn't matter if I'm conscious or not.