#the elitism is sometimes so POTENT.

[unavernales]

-- i remember someone (who i am no longer mutuals with, so it's none of you, don't mind your pretty little heads) posting that blogs who have "a study in _____" were so pretentious. it rubbed me the wrong way because although i don't have that in my about page, this blog IS a study in multiple things. this blog was a way for me to process my own trauma, gender, and ed. although some of these themes are not blatant in my writing, a lot of my muses and plot ideas are therapeutic for me. and that's okay.

when it comes down to it, rp blogs are character studies and studies in themes. even if you're just a smut blog, you are a study in bodies and intimacy. never feel pretentious or uppity for labeling your blog as a study in whatever or as whatever you view it as. because "it's just an rp blog" doesn't make you any less of a writer or a philosopher (put the gun down), and this community really needs to foster that. it's fine if you hold the belief that your blog is just for fun and its just your silly little writings! some days i write for nothing but the good brain juice. however, a lot of people pour out their hearts and souls into this work. respect that and love that and acknowledge that.

[oxianamello]

🐍Oxiana Mello reference post🐍

New ref sheet and design up! 'v' See her info and backstory under the spoiler ‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

General information:

Name: Oxiana Mello Age: 29 (Post timeskip) Height: 190cm / 6'9" Personality: Her easygoing nature and demeanor makes her seem very relaxed and.. well.. 'mellow', often making her a target for people and pirates who might be looking for an easy mark. She's very easy to approach, and emits a friendly aura that makes most feel welcome in her presence. However, they way she treats everyone with the same enthusiasm makes it difficult to know if she's being legit or just putting up a font. She gets her kicks from witty banter and sarcastic remarks. Devil Fruit: Hebi-Hebi no mi: model Samar Cobra (a highly venomous spitting cobra)

She can shed her skin to counter superficial wounds such as scrapes, scratches, heat and cold. It is also possible for her to layer it to deflect heavier hits, cushioning them with her own skin. Although it's a potent skill, she hates using it because it flakes horribly, like massive dandruff and dead skin.

Toxin secretion through her teeth and gums, under her nails, able to inject through her own specialized fingergun technique named "Shigan: snakebite" where she uses two fingers to emulate a snake bite. Can also fling drops over longer distances with high accuracy, or fling drops with little accuracy like a shotgun.

Her saliva secretes an antivenom, so any toxin applied along with her saliva is harmless, and tastes kinda sweet.

Like a snake, her initial ambush speed is explosive, but she is unable to keep up the same speed over longer durations. Strengths:

Rokushiki master, specializing in 'finger pistol', 'paper art', and 'iron body'.

Haki: Specialty is observation haki, and paired with her snake senses, she is able to sense certain things and people from afar by flicking her tongue, much like how a snake smells and senses. She's also able to vaguely pick up on people's intentions and feelings if they are within 15 meters. She can also use armament haki, but mostly for offensive means, empowering her 'Snakebite'.

Grip strength. Part of the reason she uses a modified finger pistol with two fingers is to be able to grab on to people better. She's very hard to get off once she grabs a hold of you, she would be excellent at rock climbing. Traits: She's hella expressive and emotional, but she has a kind of disorder where her tear ducts work overtime over the smallest excess of emotion, which has made her adapt a very "mellow" demeanor. Any emotion that is being felt a little more than normal makes her tears roll, not because she's sad or crying, but because her body just can't handle it and uses tears to process it. Any amount of extra joy, anger, excitement, or sadness triggers it. She's been described as a weirdo or sometimes creepy for "crying" while doing her Cipher Pol work.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Backstory:

Mello and Lucci were two kids from the same batch who were recruited by the World Government to undergo training to become Cipher Pol agents. Mello stood out for her relentless optimism, regularly cracking jokes and sporting a smile that brought a bit of light to the rigorous regime the litter of kids faced. Despite their contrasting personalities — Mello's cheerful and witty disposition clashing with Lucci's serious and calculated demeanor — they were drawn together, forming an unlikely friendship. The time came when Lucci, among others, was selected to join the more elite CP9, somethng that would intensify his training and isolate him from Mello and the rest. As he departed, Mello sprinted alongside his departing ship as far as the dock allowed, shouting out for him to promise a visit back to her — a promise Lucci made.

Years rolled by, and Mello found her place in CP7, serving with dedication. Basically she joined the intel unit of Cipher Pol, (I just happened to pick CP7 to be the intel unit), focusing on espionage, as well as gathering and handling of intelligence. But Lucci's absence grew heavier with each passing day; no visits, no letters. Her curiosity and missing her old friend led her to quietly probe for Lucci's whereabouts. This curiosity was met with resistance from her superiors due to the secretive nature of CP9, and ultimately they stopped her inquiries with a lie: Lucci had fallen in the line of duty. Shattered by the belief that Lucci was gone forever, Mello's spirit broke. After over a decade and a half with CP7, the hope of reuniting had fueled her. Now, extinguished. She took leave from her duties to recover, but her lack of income forced her into a poor lifestyle. Hopping from ship to ship, island to island, Mello did whatever odd jobs she could find, all while dealing with sad accommodations, from bug-infested motels to makeshift hideaways in the wild, living like a hobo for 5 or so years.

Circumstances led her to a war-scarred isle in the grand line where the government, stretched thin on manpower, had reluctantly requested a Cipher Pol member to supervise the building of a Marine outpost. It was here, during a confrontation with pirates from her past as an agent, that she crossed paths with the one assigned to the task -- Rob Lucci. The sight of Lucci, alive and now a member of the even more prestigious CP0, turned her world upside down. Overwhelmed with relief and emotion, Mello couldn't help but burst into tears. I like to imagine that all CP9 agents, especially Lucci, went through harsh indoctrination and memory suppression during his CP9 training, which stripped him of any memories that could hold him back, Lucci initially did not recognize Mello or recall their long-ago promise. However, their unexpected meeting sparked… something that was teetering at the edge of his mind.

Ofc they end up reconnecting, and even after 20ish years they are pleasantly surprised to rediscover their affinity for each other, and that the friendship from their childhood wasn't just a chance thing.

[nvghtsignals]

✰ ilsa spector — five of cups

the basics

full name  :  ilsa spector faceclaim  :  jenny slate skeleton  :  oc - five of cups occupation  :  emergency room doctor gender  :  demi woman ( they / she ) sexuality  :  bisexual & biromantic birthday  :  june 2nd age  :  thirty-eight

the details

tattoos  :  several , all random aesthetics languages  :  english , portuguese  alcohol use  :  often   cigarettes  :  sometimes   drug use  :  frequently before , sometimes now though they try to steer clear favorite color  :  lilac

personality

natal chart  :  gemini sun , libra moon , virgo rising  moral alignment  :  chaotic neutral mbti  :  infj  likes  :  early mornings , traveling around the world , gardening , certain musicals , comedy movies , journaling , fresh plants and flowers , teas , paddleboarding , decorating , spring most likely to …  :  die first in a horror movie

biography + olive + angelwoods

tw : drugs , alcohol , death , parental issues , addiction

in college , ilsa was infamous on campus ; everyone knew if you wanted top tier liquor and the most potent of drugs , you just needed to befriend her .  if you were lucky and your timing was right , maybe you’d even get an invite to one of ilsa’s parents’ lavish galas .  olive was no exception .  ilsa tolerated olive .  all ilsa needed was someone to drink and drag into a haze with so they felt less pathetic when they woke up the next day .  olive didn’t judge ilsa , and ilsa drowned loneliness through her presence .  it was mutually beneficial .  so one night when the pair was half-drunk and flying high and ilsa received a call from her parents to attend a fundraising gala ‘right now’ , it only seemed natural to have olive tag along to soften the blow from their family when they’d be scolded for forgetting .  what ilsa hadn’t anticipated was her impossible-to-please , manipulative parents immediately adoring olive .  if ilsa was sober enough to care , they’d have envied the way olive seamlessly slipped from ill-fated , inebriated party girl , to captivating spokesperson conversing effortlessly with colorado’s elite .  ilsa’s parents swore they raised more money with olive around , so her attendance at the galas became a regular thing .  ilsa didn’t mind . ilsa was a disappointment , and olive was the sunbeam of a daughter her parents never had . ilsa was more than willing to provide olive the center of attention that once was hers , stepping aside to allow olive to charm her parents’ donors and absorb them in her orbit . there was just something about parading around a bright , lively showpony to distract everyone from the crossfaded drunk at her side that was so … easy .  all those years of ilsa being told they were worthless faded from view when they brought olive around ; after believing ilsa would never amount to anything , landing a friend as ambitious and radiant as olive proved her parents may have been wrong .   if only they knew when ilsa and olive weren’t dressed to the nines , they were in the bathrooms of dive bars doing ketamine , taking tequila shots off strangers , and screaming at each other in their dorms after comedowns . this is who you always wanted .  i’m not sorry i’m not her , but hopefully she’ll make up for who i can’t be .  ilsa’s relationship with her parents had never been better .  suddenly conversations about ilsa’s lack of a future or husband shifted to “how’s olive doing ?  who is olive dating now ?  can olive join us for dinner next weekend ?”  their dynamic became so consumed by this whole other entity that when olive died , they discovered that ilsa and her parents had nothing left to say to one another . 

the worst night of ilsa’s life occured in olive’s presence , but i’m going to leave that to secret and history for now :~)  that said , olive’s death only added to ilsa’s overwhelming guilt .  though olive’s murder was never solved , ilsa couldn’t help but blame herself in a way .  they’d dragged olive down with them into the underbelly of high society and exposed her to all sorts of sketchy characters who could have contributed to her demise .  

there was so much loss and unexpressed grief in ilsa’s heart from those short tragic weeks that later in life when ilsa got clean and went through extensive therapy and rehab , they committed themself to uplifting and saving others by becoming an emergency room doctor .  maybe if she had been able to help that stranger at the party with olive - maybe if she’d been able to help olive sooner - things would be different .  this subconscious atonement is what drives them , even today . 

ilsa doesn’t know if she’s at this reunion to prove something to others or to herself .  she’s changed , truly changed — right ?  mostly , they’re dreading seeing everyone again .  those who judged and hated them for being such a deadbeat and bad influence , she knows what they think of her .  those who who were her friends may tempt her to drag back down into bad habits they’ve worked so hard to get away from . 

growing up an only child , ilsa wanted nothing more than to get away from her constantly fighting , abusive parents .  since she became an adult her parents have both divorced and remarried , so ilsa doesn’t feel like anywhere in particular is home or family .  realizing they had nothing and no one to depend on but themself , ilsa’s third stint in rehab after college stuck and they rebuilt their life , world , and self .  they desperately cling to the life they’ve now created as a doctor that will surely surprise people at angelwoods , but the fear that it could slip away at any moment is always there . 

[grigori77]

2023 in Movies, My Autumn/Winter Top Ten Runners-Up Rundown

20.  FERRARI – returning after almost eight years in the cinematic wilderness (outside of producing credits and ushering in TV like Tokyo Vice, anyway), director Michael Mann definitely seems to be back with a bang with this opulent, intense and emotionally charged biopic telling the story of automotive pioneer Enzo Ferrari’s 1957 battle to claw his company out of the looming pit of bankruptcy while beset by the crippling recent loss of his son Dino and his tempestuous relationship with his wife and business partner Laura (Penelope Cruz).

19.  SAW X – after years of wallowing in the frustrating mires of diminishing levels of quality, Leigh Whannel’s twisted but sometimes downright BRILLIANT slasher horror franchise has FINALLY got itself back on track with this intriguing (sort of) prequel directed by long-serving series alumnus Kevin Greutert, which see the socially-conscious serial killer with a very specific CAUSE, master trap engineer John Kramer (the always awesome Tobin Bell), go off proper biblical on a gang of con artists who have NO IDEA who they just tried to take advantage of while he struggles with his encroaching terminal cancer …

18.  THE HOLDOVERS – despite trying to play itself off as an old school throwback, Sideways director Alexander Payne’s latest top-notch comedy drama feels wonderfully fresh and DEFINITELY relevant, especially since I was finally able to check it out in the middle of the Festive period of 2023.  Paul Giamatti delivers a career best turn as Paul Hunham, a curmudgeonly classics teacher at an elite boarding Academy in the 1970s who ends up the designated staff member overseeing the handful of misanthropic teenage students who find themselves trapped on campus over the Christmas break with nowhere to go.

17.  WISH – so, does this do a good enough job of marking 100 years of Disney animated features?  I dunno … but it IS a fun movie all the same, a typically spellbinding piece of work from a studio who’ve long since proved they can pull off this kind of movie-making in their sleep.  A big part of the charm in this musical fantasy adventure is Ariana DeBose (West Side Story, Schmigadoon!) as wilful, imaginative peasant girl Asha and her complicated struggle with Chris Pine as King Magnifico, the powerful wizard who wants to exploit the magical sentient star she just wished upon for his own nefarious ends …

16.  NAPOLEON – Ridley Scott’s long awaited return to epic historical cinema may not be QUITE the comeback masterpiece we’ve been hoping for, but there’s no denying this is still a very impressive piece of work and a MASSIVE filmmaking achievement in an artform which is in imminent danger of dying out in the current market.  Joaquin Phoenix clearly really relished his opportunity to reteam with Scott after Gladiator, letting rip with gusto as the complicated French general and tyrant whose story is told here less through the course of his many impressive but bloody victories than his tumultuous relationship with his beloved Empress Josephine (Vanessa Kirby).

15.  MY ANIMAL – sneaking in under the radar to capture my attention entirely by chance, this enjoyably offbeat, erotically charged coming-of-age werewolf horror indie from debuting director Jacqueline Castel tells an intriguingly POTENT tale of dangerous forbidden passions and burgeoning sexual self-discovery as teenage Canadian lycanthrope Heather (I Love Dick’s Bobbi Salvor Menuez) falls desperately in love with Johny (The Hunger Games and The Hate U Give’s Amandla Stenberg), a new arrival in her snowbound early 80s mountain town.

14.  SITTING IN BARS WITH CAKE – another one which largely snuck in under the radar, this time onto Amazon Prime, an irrepressibly adorable romantic comedy drama from director Trish Sie (Pitch Perfect 3) which largely avoids the usual pitfalls that tend to turn me off about these kinds of movies by instead ultimately being about the unstoppable power of FRIENDSHIP as cripplingly shy LA girl Jane (The Sun Is Also a Star’s Yara Shahidi) uses freshly baked cakes as an ice breaker at the urging of her extroverted best friend Corinne (Hellraiser 2022’s Odessa A'zion) as a means to boost her self-confidence.

13.  SUZUME – once again Disney gets eclipsed by an anime, it would seem … yeah, the latest offering from whimsical master writer-director Makoto Shinkai (Your Name, Weathering With You) is another absolute WINNER, following the misadventures of Kyushu highschooler Iwato Suzume as she accidentally unleashes an ancient, potentially massive destructive force intent on opening hidden dimensional doors all over Japan which would spell immense cataclysmic chaos if she doesn’t find a way to stop it.

12.  REBEL MOON, PART ONE: A CHILD OF FIRE – okay, so here we go … yeah, this is gonna be a TRICKY one, since I KNOW that we’re only really getting HALF the movie here, with the as yet unreleased Director’s Cut of the first part of Zack Snyder’s epic sci-fi extravaganza for Netflix promising to be the much more complete package, and I can definitely see how that could to be a potential MASTERPIECE.  So while this is notable for the fact that this will probably be the very first movie to place in TWO YEARS of my rundowns, this is ultimately just a placeholder.  But it definitely deserved it, so I couldn’t NOT.  Please don’t AT ME, guys, this should hopefully all get cleared up in 2024 …

11.  KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON – while Martin Scorsese’s latest super-long epic historical biopic just isn’t the undeniable stone-cold MASTERPIECE that 2019’s The Irishman was, this adaptation of David Grann’s potent novel retelling the dark and bloody tale of the Osage Indian Murders is still a proper belter from one of the greatest filmmakers around.  Leonardo Dicaprio plays things a lot darker than usual as Ernest Burkhart, the money-grubbing husband out to exploit the fortune of his unwitting Native American wife Mollie (Certain Women’s Lily Gladstone, a revelation here) at the behest of his monstrous crime boss uncle William King Hale (Robert De Niro).

[deathfavor]

@sortilegii said: would you like to dance? ( crina for serpent, let them be soft 🥺 )

relentless melt sentence starters

Serpent sits quietly in one of the chairs in chief's office, a finger gently stroking under the chin of the iridescent snake that is always with her. There's no grand purpose to her presence here; nothing to report nor scoldings to be delivered to her. The only reason she is here is that she had asked, adorning the request with a promise not to be a distraction. More often than not, those requests only tend to last only a short period before she wants to talk or do something. Tonight, however, seems a night dipped in somberness because it has been an hour and Serpent has remained quiet and let Crina work while she remained curled up in her chair with music softly floating in the air. Not once has she tried to steal Crina's attention away from the paperwork that Nightingale has left for her.

She yearns to make everyone happy, but it feels closer to despair tonight. Chief said she wasn't a monster, but it feels hard to believe sometimes. More so than she even lets on. Humans don't endanger everyone when they bleed, they don't have potent venom in their teeth or struggle to maintain their temperature. Thoughts like these, memories of crying and bleeding in the dirt outside the Carnival court her thoughts in these late hours of the night. Now and then she watches Crina work, her chest aching like a wound throbbing in winter. Crina deserved happiness. Serpent wants to give her that, but even as she looks away again, she has yet to think of a new way to deliver said happiness. They're both so empty. Where others taste their hopes and dreams, they only taste empty sweetness. Serpent might be chained by the shackles, but the Crina was chained and jailed to her position by laws and politics. Was she happy doing this? How could Serpent give her happiness without freedom? It's one of many situations for her to contemplate.

" Huh? " Serpent lifts her head in surprise, staring at the hand that is extended towards her. When had Crina stopped working? The snake at her side flicks its tongue out, but does nothing more and settles to returning to its usual spot around her arm. It's funny how little things can make you realize sudden facts. Serpent cannot recall a time someone asked to dance with her. Not without selfish intentions at least, though Serpent was more of a solo dancer when she had performed for the eyes of Eastside Elites and those in the underground circles and networks. She also realizes, she's never danced to slow music like this.

Painted lips part subtly before Serpent slowly lifts her hand and rests it in Crina's waiting embrace. Chief is warm. Warm like a sunset on a summer evening with a gentle, cool breeze. Someone who makes you feel seen, but also offers hope and new possibilities that weren't there before. " Okay. " With a gentle pull she uncurls herself from the chair to stand with Crina, hands linked together. It would be strange to see sinner and chief linked in the chief's office, but the night is late and no one is near to disturb the tranquil scene.

One step, then two, and slowly Serpent finds them dancing. Swaying might be a more accurate term - but maybe not. Movies talked about slow dances, Serpent wasn't sure what made something a slow dance rather than just swaying. " I've never danced with someone before. " Serpent confesses quietly so as not to break the spell that the soft music seems to have created. Maybe this isn't a place full of glitz and glamour, but that seems better. Her and chief both wear masks so often, just like glamour often conceals something less picturesque beneath it. Maybe this is the most fitting place for them to be after all. " Always a solo act. "

Still, Serpent does have some familiarity in observing partner dances at events and through movies. So she takes Crina's hand and gently lifts it above the chief's head, urging her into a slow twirl that draws a delicate, breathy giggle from the sinner. Her expression remains soft when she speaks " Have you? Or is this a new adventure for us both? " Serpent pays no mind to the time or their surroundings, only to the Sirius before her, the lonely, bright star.

[luxmaeastra]

//idk what verse this is? But grew up in the "real lands of Chalkydri?"//

Raelyn was five when she saw someone her age be dropped from the balcony. He'd stolen from the magistrate, a Valg desperate for more money and food.

No one cleaned the body for two weeks. They let the Wild Fae pick it apart. When she'd asked her Mama why she'd smiled down at her.

"Because that is the nature of things little one. Food is food."

--------

She knew many Valg children. Nazarius parents were addicted to the Wyrdflowers, lotus shaped flowers that grew in the cove. Their petals were dried and made into a powder distilled Wyrd magic that lasted hours from one single petal.

There was no tolerance level, it continued to be as potent as one's first time. A delicacy among the elite. She'd caught her father indulging it, speaking with Asteri and other Daglan nobles.

She hadn't recognized him in that moment - sharp angles and sharper smile. Was this the same male who read her bedtime stories and painted her nails?

But not all Valg were addicted to it. She'd met others, like Vincent whose parents didn't hesitate to hurt him for his transgressions. He told her horrible stories of parents killing children too powerful than them. Would hers do such a thing?

She didn't understand this world, didn't understand how to survive it. But she seemed to be the only one, the only one too soft hearted to want change.

Even little Melinöe thrived, she charmed and slept her way to safety. She always had a male on her arm, two others fighting for attention.

She tried to train, but sometimes that never felt enough. She didn't know what she was looking for. She didn't know why she kept looking at the manor home where Nox lived. Why she felt it all made some twisted sense when she saw him at parties and balls. He always spoke to her, always made sure she was doing alright.

She didn't know why her heart shattered when she saw the female on his arm. Beautiful, alluring and still kind. Why did she have to be fucking kind?

It was strange how things changed, how easily he had found himself able to stand up for his father since his mother was no longer there. That the male who found himself unable to achieve what he wanted, still thought he could rule this household as if it was his right. He lost that right when he began to play away, he lost that right when he tried taking what was his.

His eyes closed when her hand gently pressed against his cheek, the soothing sensation of someone who knew and understood. If his father had his way, he would have claimed her as his own and he dreaded to think what would have happened to her. He knew the fate of many who had come before he, those who had drew the old man’s attention.

“You’ve been staring at the palace for a while,” Valentina’s voice was soft, calm as she addressed her observation. “You’re thinking about her again.”

His lips quirked as he looked up at her, the quiet of the attic was one of the few places that the pair of them could talk so freely without the fear of being overheard - his siblings were too vain to dare be found in such a place.

“You talk as if I am the only one, did you see when we at the last event together.”

“I did, she was stunning.”

Nox laughed, leaning back as Valentina moved to sit opposite him. “I was half expecting you to trip over the hem of our dress when you were talking to her, I don’t think she noticed how smitten you were.”

He sighed though, looking back to somewhere which seemed so far away. “If we had something we could offer I would say we should storm those gates, but my father’s home…”

Valentina shook her head. “We’ll build a nice home, then we can consider freeing her.”

[thaysenmortensen58]

Where to Buy Delta 8 THC Vapes in Columbus, Georgia

Content

Regularly Asked Questions On Thc Cartridges

Do Live Resin Cartridges Get You High?

Thc-o Vape Cartridges

What's Thcv

Added To Cart

Check out our THC cartridge web page now, and you’ll know you’re getting the real deal. Because actual THC cartridges endure rigorous testing through state-licensed services, shoppers have assurance of high quality and safety from ‘real’ THC cartridges. Fake THC cartridges don’t present the identical luxurious, and you’re taking a danger on ingredients that may be prohibited from passing state testing for safety.

Freedom Cannabis Secures New Cannabis 2.0 Licence - InvestorsObserver

Freedom Cannabis Secures New Cannabis 2.0 Licence.

Posted: Mon, 16 Jan 2023 08:00:00 GMT [source]

Typical hashish concentrates could be a lot too robust for some people who choose a milder set of effects. For many, Delta 9 THC causes emotions of anxiety and paranoia, which is counterproductive when what they really wish to expertise is a sense of calmness and leisure.

Frequently Requested Questions On Thc Cartridges

Some of the customers who used Boston Hempire’s D-8 THC carts complained about the lack of a customer-friendly returns coverage. Easily change the merchandise or transport date on your upcoming Scheduled Orders.

In the Elite line of distillate cartridges, you can anticipate excessive ranges of THC, often topping 80 to 95 %.

Retrieve your vape pen battery and make positive that it’s charged.

Keep in mind that highly effective delta eight may give the user a euphoric high, even whether it is somewhat gentle.

We opt for hemp products which are obtained by safe and eco-friendly extraction strategies. They guarantee the quality, security, and potency of the products. The oil must be derived from natural, GMO-free, and pesticide-free hemp plants. Third-party lab tested for quality and purity; the outcomes are accessible to the brand’s web site visitors. Both 10X cart and Chill Plus contain 900mg of Delta-8 THC. Generally, all vape carts are suitable with 510-thread batteries.

Do Stay Resin Cartridges Get You High?

For the same person to achieve the desired impact, they will take more hits off the milder one than they will off the more potent one. Therefore, the more potent one lasts longer than the milder one. You could choose up a half-gram cart, which has fewer hits than a full gram. Sometimes, it’s just CBD Quiz higher to splurge and get the full gram so it lasts longer. THC oil doesn’t “go bad” within the sense of spoilage and it shouldn’t make you sick. It has a shelf life of a couple of yr, typically fourteen months, and after that time will degrade the compound, rendering it less effective.

me after hitting my pen pic.twitter.com/8KGZum2DuG

— kim (@lunakimm) Cbd Life Sciences, Inc (cbdl) Stories: Marijuana-cannabidiol (cbd) Bill Signals New Interval In Federal Cannabis Protection ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">November 1, 2022

” Since launching, Select has turn into one of many largest multi-state operators in America, selling from California to Michigan and again again.

Thc-o Vape Cartridges

Overall, 3Chi’s products are efficient and reasonably priced. The distinctive factor about Exhale Wellness is that it combines nutritious superfoods with premium hemp extracts to make all-natural, organic, and vegan products. None of its merchandise contain synthetic colours or flavors. It's quite simple to make an educated prediction as to how long a cart will final when you use the 3-to-5 milligram methodology. Other THC vape cartridges are for chilling out at night, releasing the stresses of the day, and preparing for restful sleep. These THC carts can be found in 10 different flavors and strains. You get one gram of hemp-derived delta-8 THC with every purchase.

What Is Thcv

Typically unlicensed cartridges sell for a lot lower than these in dispensaries. However, criminals are selling counterfeits of in style THC cartridge brands with the identical prices as dispensaries. They do that to try and additional legitimize their counterfeit THC vape cartridges. Vaping soiled hash oil cartridges may find yourself in severe health issues. It's safer to purchase THC oil vape cartridges solely from licensed dispensaries. We discover the people shopping for and selling unlicensed and counterfeit cartridges in America. In their line, natural cotton wicks are used to protect the good flavor of the distillate so the style will last. But, a broad spectrum profile with cannabis-derived terpenes is a rising development. Finally, one of the best THC cartridges are tested a minimal of to the very best requirements of their region, if not larger.

Dr Joseph Ambani

Medical Doctor and University Lecturer Narok County Hospital and Maasai Mara University Website: https://glowbarldn.com/pages/dr-joseph-ambani Address: 70 Mortimer St, London W1W 7RY Company: Glow Bar London

[aminiatureworld]

Enigmatic Feelings

Characters: Albedo, Diluc, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 5,544

Warnings: None

Premise: Love is a potent force. And sometimes little things take on larger meanings, especially when one party is unaware of them.

In which the reader’s s/o is jealous

Author’s Note: This trope is 100% my guilty pleasure. I hope I did it justice.

I also realized while writing this that all these characters have the emotional understanding of a teaspoon, but they’re trying their best, so that’s what counts.

Albedo

Albedo was many things. A great alchemist, a man of secrets, a weapon with which one might someday bring destruction. He was even a lover, albeit an unpracticed one. But what he was not was emotional. Or so he thought.

Of course Albedo knew what jealousy was, knew the sort of stupidity that people could fall into when altogether too infatuated with their own love. But just because one knows what jealousy is does not mean one must fall prey to such things. Or so Albedo assumed.

It was the fourth day in a row that a knight had approached your door. Friedrich was his name, and he was doing a stellar job at capturing your attention, and pulling on emotions that Albedo had long told himself he didn’t contain.

Today the flower was a Windwheel Aster, swaying this way and that in the pocket of space between your two hands. You were smiling at it, or rather at Friedrich, brightly, fingers mere moments away from Friedrich as you went to claim the fourth flower this week. Though the was nothing necessarily untoward in Friedrich’s movements, and Albedo would much rather a person of integrity be attempting to woo you, even if the idea itself turned knots in his stomach; nevertheless it still left a bad taste in the alchemist’s mouth, and a worry in his heart that he was not so immune to jealousy as he’d previous assumed.

“Thank you!” You spoke to Friedrich, giving one last wave before walking back over to Albedo. “Albedo look! It’s a Windwheel Aster. It’s very nice of Friedrich to give me one, maybe I can use it, or maybe it’ll be helpful for your experiments?”

“Yes, thank you. I, I think you should keep it.”

As much as Albedo wanted to take the flower and throw it in the incinerator, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter the smile on your face. No matter how dearly it cost him to see you smile down once more at the delicate red petals. And no matter how much it haunted him the rest of the day to imagine you, face framed by a smile, a bouquet of a random knight’s making in your hands.

That knight as Albedo put away the Bunsen burners and the graduated cylinders he kept his mind preoccupied by thoughts of you. Surely he had to tell you his feelings, for if not they would keep building in his chest; building and building until one day he erupted, with you in the line of fire rather than the knight who was creating this whole dilemma, perhaps even unwittingly. Though Albedo had never been in a relationship before he knew stories. Weren’t books full of those kinds of moments? Men, women, people, all of them running over one another in their misunderstanding, in their overwhelming guilt.

No, he wouldn’t turn out like that, wouldn’t let the two of you be hurt in such a way. He had to tell you. Had to make you understand how much his chest constricted when he saw you carrying the gifts of others, had to let it be known before he lost control of these emotions. After all, wasn’t that what happened with emotions? They grow and grow and one day they spill over. And Albedo never wanted these emotions to spill over. No matter the cost.

“May I tell you something?”

The sunlight was streaming through the laboratory windows, the air warm enough that Sucrose had tied up her hair during her shift. And yet Albedo felt cold, oh so cold. He was going to tell you today. He hadn’t been able to tell you three days ago, nor two days ago, nor yesterday. And now the bouquet of flowers that occupied a tiny glass on the windowsill felt quite large indeed. Today would be day eight if Friedrich showed up at lunchtime, and before that Albedo would tell you.

“Of course you can Albedo, I’m all ears!”

You turned around, a soft smile once more spreading across your face. Putting down the pencil you’d been holding you leaned back against the lab table. Albedo took in a deep breath. He could do this. He would do this. He had to do this. No matter what, today. Today, he would do this.

“I-I’m jealous.” The words hung in the air for a moment, as if not understood.

“Jealous?” You tilted your head slightly, worry making your smile slip. “Albedo, jealous of what?”

“Of Friedrich, of you and Friedrich, or rather, I mean, of Friedrich giving you flowers.” Albedo paused, words tangling in his mouth, tripping on each other in an attempt to be understood. What if this was a mistake.

“Albedo,” you shook you head softly, walking over to cup your partner’s face, “I promise that there’s nothing in it. The flowers are lovely, of course, but nothing in this world could replace or stem my love for you. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” Albedo replied hurriedly, worried still that he might be misunderstood, “I’m not trying to accuse you of anything, or say that I doubt you. My love, I will never doubt you. I just, I just feel so uncomfortable when he brings you flowers. It feels like, like I don’t know; it feels like I’m being poisoned, suddenly and all at once. And I don’t want it to affect the way I act towards you. So, so I wanted to tell you. You don’t have to stop, if those flowers make you happy then that’s what matters. But, but I just wanted to tell you.”

You said nothing, staring into Albedo’s eyes, gaze piercing through the alchemist. It was always that way with you. How you managed to destroy the control he thought he had, the wall he’d erected between himself and humanity. How you made him feel unsure and fallible and whole. And, just as before, now your gaze softened and you shook your head, your smile a balm for the raw unfamiliarity of putting together emotions.

“It’s okay Albedo, I’m glad you told me. Just like my emotions matter to you, I’d rather not see you unhappy. To be honest, I just never saw Friedrich’s actions in the way that he probably meant them. We all struggle with our feelings sometimes, I do just like you. Just as long as well tell each other, all will be well. Alright?”

“Yes. Thank you. I don’t know what I do without you.”

“Well you’ll never have to find out, so it doesn’t matter!”

There was no eighth flower that day, at least not one that was successfully given. Albedo supposed that he could pity Friedrich, but in reality he felt nothing but relief. The emotions that had left such a bad taste in his mouth seemed so far away now, for there was you, only you. It would only ever be you for him, and the days in which you said the same thing of him Albedo felt as if he could truly be happy, and truly acknowledge the emotions that swirled inside him, the love for you so great it spilled over into a vast ocean.

 Diluc

Diluc found most merchants loathsome, something perhaps not entirely fair considering his own status as a mover of goods.

Still, merchants in general were an unlikeable bunch. Prone to complacency and greed, this elite circle was comprised of people who thought of little than of ways to line their pockets anew. It disgusted Diluc and as he stood there, watching as a man who had enough jewelry on his body to weigh down a pack mule and a smile that made one want to run in the other direction, throw compliments and boasts your way, the winery owner was reminded about all that was wrong with the world in which he worked.

“So your goal is to attempt to find a route through which we might trade our wine in Inazuma?” You repeated the words the man had just spoken, expression skeptical. “As much as it would mean good business to begin another trade route, I believe the border restrictions will cause no little difficulty.”

“Restrictions such as those are nothing for a man like me.” The merchant smile once more and Diluc felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. “I have the ability to wave past such an issue. Indeed with the right price I believe I could expand your network to include all of the seven major lands, if you haven’t been trading internationally.”

“Thank you for your offer.” You replied, too focused on the work in front of you to notice the merchant’s roving sort of gaze. “I’ll see what Master Diluc has to say. However I warn you, as much as international exports are important for a growing trade, smuggling wine into locked countries will do little good. Especially considering what the damage could do to this winery’s reputation if such a thing was found out.”

“Don’t worry, I assure you my methods are completely secure. In fact, if you’d like to discuss it in more depth, I do believe that I may be able to enlighten you over a meal.”

“Perhaps, although Master Diluc would certainly have to be there.” You smiled slightly, and Diluc wondered for a moment if you were being purposefully oblivious or simply didn’t notice the meaning behind the merchant’s words.

“I will be back tomorrow, perhaps you’ll have an answer then?”

“I’m sure I will.” You replied, smiling as the two of you shook hands. As the merchant walked out of the winery your smile morphed into a sort of smirk and you looked up towards the balcony of the second floor.

“You can come out now Diluc, I know you’re there.”

Diluc couldn’t help but smile at those words, he truly couldn’t get anything past you. Hurrying down the stairs he swept you up in his arms, sighing slightly into your neck as you tightened the embrace.

“Ever so observant, my darling.”

“I know that you’d never let a transaction or a business conversation take place without your knowledge.” There was a playfulness to your voice, coming from the knowledge that you were utterly correct. “Still, you could’ve come downstairs you know. I don’t think that anyone would need to believe that you were going through your ‘very important paperwork, and lurking around is your night job.’”

“It seemed somehow wrong to suddenly appear in front of you two and derail the conversation.” Diluc drew away and placed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose, chuckling when you immediately wrinkled it. “Especially since you were doing so well on your own.”

“Oh he’s just like the rest of them,” you sighed, “altogether a bit too full of themselves.”

“Especially in this one’s case.” Diluc said, finally letting a scowl cross his face.

“What do you mean?”

The look on your face was one of innocence and confusion, and for a moment Diluc felt his thoughts stammer, as he realized that you truly were unaware of the way that the merchant was looking at you, unaware of the manner which caused Diluc even now to continue to press his hand gently against your lower back. If you didn’t notice it, then surely Diluc was overreacting, surely there was no reason for his heart to stutter and his stomach to drop. Surely there was no reason, and surely he shouldn’t tell you.

“Nothing at all, I just didn’t like his face.” He hurried now to reply, realizing how odd his pause must’ve seemed. “Will you be accepting his proposal for a business dinner?”

“I’m not sure. I suppose it couldn’t hurt. And then it might be a good venue for the two of you to talk. Since you find him especially ghastly, I think a more public meeting might be easier.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t think that invitation was meant for me.” Diluc replied, before realizing his gaffe and falling silent.

“What? What do you mean of course it’s meant for you. I mean you are the owner of the Winery. Who else would it be for?”

“For, for you my darling. Why else would he ask you in such a way?” Diluc tried to keep the acid out of his words. It wasn’t your fault after all. It wasn’t your fault that some louche was asking after you.

“But I’m not the one in charge.” You furrowed your brow. “I can’t make the final decision. And I won’t allow him to attempt to bypass getting your permission either.”

“My darling, I, I think he meant it a different way.”

“What way?”

Diluc sighed, capitulating quickly to his want to tell you. Even if it was perhaps selfish of him, he was never truly good at keeping his feelings masked away, at least in a way that didn’t result in him completely shutting down. And you meant to much to him than for Diluc to try and lie to you.

“You see, I think he was attempting to ask you on a more romantic sort of dinner.”

“What?”

Your reaction was immediate, your expression quickly turning into one of shock and then of disgust. Letting out a groan you buried your face into the front of Diluc’s coat, eliciting a short laugh from its owner.

“Why? I… I… Even if I weren’t in love with you I’d never go out to dinner with him.”

“I don’t think he would appreciate the sentiment.”

“Diluc.” You let out another groan, shaking your head as if to rid yourself of the thought. “Archons, ugh thank you for telling me. I, disgusting.”

Diluc said nothing, simply tightening the hold of his arms around you. Though your reaction was certainly justifiable he knew there was something more behind them, and he felt grateful for your consideration. Though he knew that would always have been your reaction, it didn’t stop the pressure that ha been building in his chest, the thoughts that screamed what if, what if, what if. What if there is something better than you.

“Hey, are you alright?” You voice drifted up through the fabric of Diluc coat. He smiled, relaxing his grasp around you and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“I will be. May I hold you a little longer?”

“Of course. You’re the only one for me, you know.”

“And you for me. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Those words, though so small, were somehow enough.

 Xiao

The new guest at the inn had been speaking to you for quite some time. That was Xiao’s first observation. The second was that you didn’t seem to mind. The third was that for some reason he suddenly felt incredibly irritated.

It was a beautiful evening, the kind that would’ve normally had you and Xiao sitting on the roof together, fingers entwined, the silence of nature cushioning the two of your from the outside world. It was a ritual, something that Xiao had come to rely on, had come to almost sanctify. Yet here he was, sitting on one of the thicker branches of the trees that dotted the outside of the Inn, trying desperately to quench the anger that bloomed in his chest as he watched you and the guest talk the minutes away.

Perhaps the worst part was that you didn’t seem to mind. Instead of pulling the conversation towards a close, you seemed perfectly content to keep talking, smiling brightly and quickly answering the questions of this uninvited guest. Normally Xiao didn’t care about , or rather didn’t keep track of, the people you spoke to. Of course you would have friends, would have people that mattered to you. Just because Xiao had disconnected himself from humanity didn’t mean that you had to. So why was he so angry?

His patience ran out when the guest reached for your hand. Sidling next to you as fast as he could Xiao peeled off his invisibility, enjoying the shock that registered across the uninvited guest’s face as he moved his hand back. Reaching to entwine his hand with yours Xiao shifted his gaze towards your face. Shock was painted into your expression, but there was also something else, a glimmer of happiness or of satisfaction. Somehow it unnerved Xiao, and he focused instead on the task at hand, whatever that task was.

“It’s getting late.”

“Oh, of course.” Turning back to the guest you smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but perhaps we’ll speak again some other time?”

“Gladly!” The man’s face lit up, before Xiao’s glaring left him scampering down the steps.

“Xiao, is something wrong?” The question was so genuine, without any sense of knowing more than you let. Unfortunately the question was also unanswerable.

“It’s late. We should go.” Xiao gestured towards the roof, hoping the reminder would flush the question out of your head.

“You’re right, I suppose it is getting late. And we wouldn’t want to waste such a wonderful evening.” You smiled. And yet somehow Xiao felt unplacated. He was happy, wasn’t he? So why, why did the question hang in the air, and why did the discontent remain?

The next day was a lazy one, as Xiao waited for you to be done with work. More than usual he missed you, and he wished that the hours would go faster, so he might be able to once more enjoy your presence, to banish the discontent that he still felt, evening after an hour spent wholly in your company.

Eventually the sun made its descent from the heavens, and Xiao pulled himself once more to the perch on the tree he’d taken the night before. Gazing down at the balcony he saw the familiar figure of the unwanted guest, and a stab of anger flashed through him. This was made all the worse by your entrance, and the fact you once more stopped to make time for this intruder.

The man was just as insufferable as before, full of jokes that Xiao didn’t understand and words that though praising of you felt somewhat hollow, almost insulting. You laughed along to these jokes, smiled at these odd compliments. And when the man asked if you might be willing to talk more over some sort of meal you merely smiled.

Xiao, however, found the whole ordeal unbearable. Why should this person be asking all these things, be prying you with words of intimacy and familiarity. Had he not arrived yesterday? Was he not an utter stranger? Confusion mixed with irritation in Xiao’s head, and he found it difficult to hold on to the stony reason he’d built up. What was going on? What was this terrible feeling of anger and want? He couldn’t understand human ways. Less could he understand why they should have any sort of effect on him.

Still he had to do something. Had to do anything. Swooping down once more Xiao began the same charade. This time, however, the man merely jumped, and for all his glaring Xiao couldn’t dislodge the guest from his place on the balcony.

“It’s late.”

“Ah it is. Are you hungry?” He asked, addressing you once more.

“I’m not at all, but Xiao’s right. It is late. If you haven’t eaten yet then perhaps you should. Smiley Yanxiao is quite strict about his rest.”

“Ah, then perhaps you’re right. Still, why not join me? You can tell me your name, and we can talk a little more about the things you do.”

“You don’t even know their name.” Xiao spat out the sentence, barely able to contain the odd sort of irritation that still spun around him. He asked you all those questions, said all those words of praise, all without knowing your name. It felt somehow dehumanizing, somehow… wrong.

“I would be glad to learn it.” The man smiled.

Xiao simply shook his head. He needed to leave. It was becoming too much again, and the last thing Xiao wanted was for a stranger to see him this way, see him unsure and confused and not a little frightened of these alien emotions. Glaring at the man one more time Xiao scooped you up. Ignoring the surprised shriek that you let out he shot up into the sky, moving towards the familiar sanctuary of Jueyen Karst, deeply grateful that the guest, whatever he could do, could never fly.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” You asked, barely giving Xiao the time to set you down onto one of Liyue’s sloping peaks before asking him the one question he couldn’t answer.

“Nothing.”

“Well it’s certainly not nothing. You’re being awfully rude to that guest, and I can’t understand why. Usually you don’t really care about those sorts of things. So something must be wrong, and I want to know what it is.”

A pause.

“Please.”

“I can’t.” It was all Xiao could say, the only thing that would truly encompass the truth, because in truth he couldn’t. He himself didn’t understand it.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“My chest hurts.”

“What?” Immediately your face shifted into one of worry, and you placed a soft hand over Xiao’s heart. Somehow the gesture was calming, and Xiao closed his eyes, enjoying the receding of the hot bands that had just been restricting him.

“My chest hurt when I saw you with that, that guest. My chest hurt and I felt angry. That’s what’s wrong. My chest hurt, but now it doesn’t; and I don’t understand it.”

There was a pause, and Xiao studied the expressions on your face, watched as they shifted from worry to confusion to caution.

“Xiao, is it possible you were jealous?”

“No.” The idea was somehow insulting.

“It’s alright to be jealous Xiao. It just means you care about someone very much. You don’t have to just dismiss it like that. I want to make sure that you’re alright, so please be honest. Is it possible you were jealous?”

Xiao let another gap form in the conversation, trying to figure out how to answer. The suggestion felt demeaning, felt as if he somehow had no control over himself, no trust of you. And yet it somehow made sense, and even as he shook his head he found himself letting out a different answer.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s okay if you don’t. I know that new emotions can be frightening, can be difficult to deal with. But Xiao, I’ll always love you. It doesn’t matter who else I meet or what else happens in my life. I love you the way that a bird loves the sky. You’re a part of my life I could never lose. So even if this isn’t jealousy, even if I’m wrong, I still want to let you know. I love you.”

Xiao sighed, a smile finally gracing his lips, the pain in his chest finally melting away. What did he ever do to deserve such a person as you, he would never know. He wished he could repeat those words back to you word for word, wished that he could explain that his love for you was all encompassing, had seeped through the cracks of his existence and his life. He wished he could form together the words necessary to convey his love for you. Even if it was impossible he still wished it.

So instead he leaned over towards you. Letting out a gentle sigh he brought his lips to yours, reveling in the soft sensation of your mouth against his, reveling in the way you leaned against him, bringing you arm up to his neck, letting out a soft breath of contentment as the two of you disconnected.

You didn’t ask him anything else, and for the rest of the evening you two sat on the grass, watching the fireflies dance around you as you leaned against one another.

Perhaps Xiao didn’t yet understand the extent to which he loved you, the emotions that had now risen up, given life by the love you’d poured into the adeptus. Perhaps he didn’t understand this yet, but he knew that all would be well. For with you all that irritation seemed so far away, as if it belonged to a Xiao of yesterday. Because here and now you two were together, breathing in the same mutual contentment, the same mutual trust, the same mutual love. And that present was more important than any jealousy could be.

 Zhongli

Looking back on the matter Zhongli admitted that maybe pretending the problem didn’t exist was probably not the best solution.

It was only that you two had seemed so oddly content in talking, so, compatible, that Zhongli couldn’t help but feel a twinge of discontent, a tension that spread through his jaw and down to his stomach. He didn’t quite understand the nature of the emotion that now spread over him, but he did understand that it was connected to the bond that was now forming between you and the vendor in front of you.

“Dearest one.” He spoke softly, walking over to where you now stood.

“Oh, Zhongli!” Your face lit up as usual, and the ex-archon felt a piece of him uncoil. At least some things seemed to be unchanging, just as wonderful today as they had been the day before.

“I’ve been looking for you. I know you spoke of wanting to learn more about the nature of Cor Lapis, and the tea shop has been offering a new brew. Perhaps we could share a drink?”

“Oh that sounds lovely!” Turning around towards the vendor you smiled gently. “I’m sorry, I’ll have to try that lovely soup you were speaking of some other time.”

“Not at all!” The vendor’s smile was good natured, and Zhongli didn’t understand why he nevertheless felt a twinge of uncertainty. “I look forward to it. I hope you two have a nice day, and we’ll talk about it more later.”

Though the stall receded into the distance as the two of you turned the corner, Zhongli couldn’t help but let the moment run through his mind once more, finding it as sore to think about as a bruise might be to the touch.

“That vendor? Oh they’re new on the scene.” You smiled, taking a sip of tea.

The tea house was as calming as ever, the noises of the outside a distant song, and the hushed whispers inside adding to the intimate atmosphere. Zhongli normally loved to sit here, drinking cup after cup of tea, watching as the people came and went about their business, immersed in a small fragment of Liyue life. Now, however, he found he couldn’t stop thinking about the vendor. If he closed his eyes he could still remember their face, and the way yours was lit up while they were talking to you.

“Their name is Eli.” You continued on, oblivious to the way Zhongli’s hand tightened around his teacup. “They said that they set up shop maybe… two weeks ago? It hasn’t been a very long time, and they’re still struggling a bit. I hope that they’ll be able to get their business off the ground, who knew that street food was such a cutthroat world.”

“The city of Liyue is full of people who might make their way in the world, doing whatever they can. Perhaps it is unsurprising that competition is second nature to Liyue’s citizens.” Zhongli replied, hoping his tone wasn’t too curt. If it was you didn’t seem to mind, nodding softly in agreement.

“Speaking of Liyue and stories, perhaps you would like to tell me the story you were going to tell? I very much doubt that Cor Lapis is the blood of Morax.”

“How humans love to spin their stories.” Zhongli chuckled.

But even as he began to speak of jewels and pressure and the minerals that lay deep beneath the earth a bit of him was still preoccupied by the vendor’s easy words and your smiling face.

The next time he ran into you with the vendor the pit in his stomach had only gotten heavier. Standing a little ways away he let the conversation between the two of you flow in and out his ear, frown slipping deeper the more he heard.

“I cannot believe that your stall nearly caught fire on your first day! How unlucky.”

“Even worse that I didn’t know who to try and tell about it. If I had known you were part of the Guild then I would’ve asked you.”

“Well next time there are troubles you can just send a message to the Adventurer’s Guild. We can’t have our citizens being injured on our watch.”

“You sound like true heroes. I wish I could do the sorts of things you did. Your commissions sound fascinating! I would love to see how you go about your day some time.”

“Really it’s nothing, most days it’s quite boring really, just like any other job. Still, it’s nice to know that people have an interest in what we do.”

“Oh certainly! I find what you do very interest– ”

“My dearest one!” Zhongli called out, unable to continue listening to the conversation, feeling somewhat guilty and certainly upset. You turned slightly, smile brightening as you saw your partner.

“Zhongli! So sorry that I didn’t meet you outside your office, I must’ve lost track of the time. Eli here was telling me all about their first days at work.”

“I’m sorry that I got out late. I hope that you did not have to wait awhile.”

“Oh not at all Zhongli, like I said I’ve just been standing here. You don’t need to feel bad at all!”

“I’m glad. Perhaps now we can go?”

Zhongli attempted to smile, but it felt a lot more like a grimace. You stared at him, face the picture of confusion. Taking a step forward you glanced one more time at Eli, shrugging apologetically. Before any more words could be passed between the two of you Zhongli grabbed onto your hand. Walking quite quickly he didn’t let go until the two of you were at your apartment and he could finally breathe again.

“Zhongli, what’s the matter with you?” You asked, closing the apartment door behind you. Walking back towards Zhongli, who stood there silently, you let your hands rest lightly on his shoulders. “You can tell me you know, I can tell you’re unhappy.”

“I have a confession.” Zhongli started, feeling somehow compelled to reveal his thoughts, as if keeping them locked away would only be dangerous.

“Yes?”

“I, I did not like the way that the vendor spoke to you.”

“Eli? But they were perfectly nice.”

“I do not mean that they were rude. They were perfectly cordial. I mean, when the two of you were speaking, I, I felt uncomfortable. It was as if there was a barrier between us in that moment. I, I did not like it.”

“Oh Zhongli.” You breathed out, an indulgent smile on your face.

Reaching up you planted fleeting kisses on the archon’s face, peppering his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, touch featherlight. It was a familiar gesture, one of comfort, one used in darker nights, when shadows dotted the periphery of Zhongli’s vision.

“Zhongli, I assume you know what jealousy is?”

“I know the term and what it means. I admit I am not personally familiar with the concept.”

“Well I am, so let me tell you. What you experienced, that was jealousy, plain and simple. I know it’s very uncomfortable. Jealousy can be such a messy feeling, it sticks everywhere. But it’s also normal. So you don’t need to worry. I promise that nothing will happen, and I promise that these feelings would go away. I also promise that I love you very much, so even if you feel these emotions, you don’t have to worry.”

“How could I ever worry about you?” Zhongli murmured, wrapping his arms around you, basking in your proximity.

The apology only came in the evening, after words and kisses and love had hung long enough in the air to dull the feelings that Zhongli had been carrying around. Now he lay there next to you, chin resting gently on your head, suddenly realizing that he’d most likely acted quite rudely.

“I’m sorry I ignored Eli.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand.” You murmured. “Though I’m not actually sure what got you riled up about them.”

“You are also a bit oblivious dearest one,” Zhongli let out a soft laugh, “it seems they were quite taken with you.”

“Were they?” You asked, tone betraying your surprise. You paused for a moment, as if trying to replay your interactions. “I never noticed. To be honest, I don’t think I could ever notice, not when I have you.”

“Thank you.” Zhongli whispered, oddly overcome by the confession.

As he lay awake, carding gentle fingers through your hair and listening to the even breaths of your sleeping form he pondered just how lucky he was. Precious gems might come from pressure and earth and chance. But you were more precious than all of them. And he’d never forget that.

[rockislandadultreads]

Squid Game Readalikes

Battle Royale by Koushun Takami, Nathan Collins (Translator)

Koushun Takami's notorious high-octane thriller envisions a nightmare scenario: a class of junior high school students is taken to a deserted island where, as part of a ruthless authoritarian program, they are provided arms and forced to kill until only one survivor is left standing. Criticized as violent exploitation when first published in Japan—where it became a runaway best seller—Battle Royale is a Lord of the Flies for the 21st century, a potent allegory of what it means to be young and (barely) alive in a dog-eat-dog world.

The Grace Year by Kim Liggett

No one speaks of the grace year. It’s forbidden. In Garner County, girls are told they have the power to lure grown men from their beds, to drive women mad with jealousy. They believe their very skin emits a powerful aphrodisiac, the potent essence of youth, of a girl on the edge of womanhood. That’s why they’re banished for their sixteenth year, to release their magic into the wild so they can return purified and ready for marriage. But not all of them will make it home alive. Sixteen-year-old Tierney James dreams of a better life—a society that doesn’t pit friend against friend or woman against woman, but as her own grace year draws near, she quickly realizes that it’s not just the brutal elements they must fear. It’s not even the poachers in the woods, men who are waiting for a chance to grab one of the girls in order to make a fortune on the black market. Their greatest threat may very well be each other. With sharp prose and gritty realism, The Grace Year examines the complex and sometimes twisted relationships between girls, the women they eventually become, and the difficult decisions they make in-between.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

Could you survive on your own in the wild, with every one out to make sure you don't live to see the morning? In the ruins of a place once known as North America lies the nation of Panem, a shining Capitol surrounded by twelve outlying districts. The Capitol is harsh and cruel and keeps the districts in line by forcing them all to send one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen to participate in the annual Hunger Games, a fight to the death on live TV. Sixteen-year-old Katniss Everdeen, who lives alone with her mother and younger sister, regards it as a death sentence when she steps forward to take her sister's place in the Games. But Katniss has been close to dead before—and survival, for her, is second nature. Without really meaning to, she becomes a contender. But if she is to win, she will have to start making choices that weight survival against humanity and life against love.

How We Fall Apart by Katie Zhao

Nancy Luo is shocked when her former best friend, Jamie Ruan, top ranked junior at Sinclair Prep, goes missing, and then is found dead. Nancy is even more shocked when word starts to spread that she and her friends--Krystal, Akil, and Alexander--are the prime suspects, thanks to "The Proctor," someone anonymously incriminating them via the school's social media app. They all used to be Jamie's closest friends, and she knew each of their deepest, darkest secrets. Now, somehow The Proctor knows them, too. The four must uncover the true killer before The Proctor exposes more than they can bear and costs them more than they can afford, like Nancy's full scholarship. Soon, Nancy suspects that her friends may be keeping secrets from her, too. Students at an elite prep school are forced to confront their secrets when their ex-best friend turns up dead.

[lailoken]

‘Heathen Survivals’

“In Scotland, as in other parts of the British Isles, the conversion to Christianity was largely led by foreign saints who were of noble birth or royal descent. They converted the tribal kings who then forced the new religion onto their subjects. For this reason the process was resisted by the lower class, and even by some members of the ruling power elite. The Chronicle of Lonecast recorded that as late as the 13th century Father John, the parish priest of Inverkiething, seduced young village girls so they danced wantonly around an ithyphallic stone idol. He allegedly 'stirred them to lust and [to] use filthy language' while leading a procession around the churchyard holding aloft a representation of 'the male organ of generation' on top of a pole. At Loch Mournie in the 17th century the local minister condemned his practitioners for continuing to practice the pagan ritual of sacrificing bulls. Twenty years later Hector Mackenzie of Mellon, his two sons and his grandson were summoned before a session of the kirk (church) elders to explain why they had killed a bull on their farm "in ane heathenish mannere". In his defense Mackenzie told the elders the sacrifice was an attempt to recover the health of his sick wife. It was not recorded who the animal was sacrificed to.

In 1650 a woman was called to account before the kirk elders for killing and burying a lamb under the threshold of a house, a magical liminal place. She told them she had sacrificed one of her flock of new-born lambs, the healthiest, so the rest would be protected from disease. When Isobel Young was charged with sorcery in 1692 for burying a live ox, her son told the court it was common husbandry practice and nothing to do with witchcraft. In a program broadcast at Hallowe'en 2009 the local radio station on the Isle of Lewis mentioned a letter written by a 17th century visitor to the island calling on the laird and the church to outlaw 'barbaric customs' at that time of year. The writer said he had seen a bull sacrificed and its blood spilt on the earth and ritual bonfires blazing on every hill. (Letter from Linda Fallows to author 31.10.2009)

On the Isle of Mull disease broke out in the herds of cattle in 1767. It was decided to take drastic measures to deal with the outbreak. A need- fire was lit on a hilltop without the use of flint and by friction between two pieces of wood. 'Need' is from the Old English niedfyr and the Old German nieten, meaning 'to churn'. The fire had to be lit before moonrise and during its lighting an old man chanted an incantation. Then a sick heifer was sacrificed and the diseased part of the animal was cut out and burnt on the need-fire. The rest of the good meat was then cooked and eaten by all those present as the fire gradually burnt down.

An ancient druidic cure for epilepsy still practiced in the Highlands at the beginning of the 20th century required the sacrifice ofa black cockerel. A hole was dug near to where the patient had experienced their last fit. The bird was buried alive while an incantation was read out calling on the earth to "swallow the evil". Shortly afterwards the sufferer would recover and, it was claimed, would have no more fits during their life.

In 1909 when a farmer died on Orkney his grieving family sacrificed his prize heifer. This was said to be an offering to the hogboy or hogboon, from the Norwegian haug-bui or haug-buinn meaning 'mound dweller'. This was the Norse term for a tutelary or guardian spirit associated with ancient burial mounds. Sometimes the hogboy was believed to be the shade or earthbound spirit of a former owner of the nearby farmstead or the ancestral founder of the family concerned. They remained earthbound to watch over their property, land and descendants and to monitor the progress of the estate down the generations.

In the 18th century Martin Martin said that the inhabitants on the Isle of Lewis still performed sacrifices to an ancient sea-god called Shoni or Shoney on Hallowe'en (October 31s). They brewed a special beer and after sunset threw cups of it into the sea. Afterwards everyone went to the local kirk and sat in the pews in silence while a candle was lit on the altar. This candle had to burn down and go out before they would leave. The rest of the night was then spent in the fields drinking, eating, singing and dancing. It was believed this ritual would ensure a good crop of seaweed used as fertilizer on the fields and therefore a bountiful harvest for the next year.

In the Hebrides St Michael, the patron saint of horses, horsemen and boats, was spoken of in the 19th century as "the god Michael". On the saint's feast day of Michaelmas (September 29th), a special bannock or oat cake was baked inside a lamb's skin. It was then blessed at a special Mass by the priest and dedicated to the saint. It was also a traditional custom on the same day to hold horse races and, unusually, both men and women participated in these events.

As well as blood sacrifices there was also a folk tradition of making offerings to the genii loci, the 'spirits of a place' or nature spirits, that inhabited the countryside. In 1697 when Martin Martin was travelling through Scotland he said country people still held pre-Christian beliefs. Although they claimed to outsiders that they were God-fearing pious folk, secretly they believed the hills were inhabited by spirits and made offerings to them. These entities could appear in an instant from their natural hiding places whenever they wanted to startle a passing traveller.

In January 1657 at Cullen in Forfarshire Margaret Philp was arrested on a charge of practising witchcraft. Her servant, Isobel Imblaugh, who may have been related to Philp's husband as they shared the same surname, testified she had seen her mistress have dealings with a spirit taking the form of a talking hare. Imblaugh said she had seen Philp put out a bannock, a jug of beer and a piece of meat for the sprite and the next morning it was all gone. On another occasion the spirit-hare had allegedly entered the house through an open window and drank the beer left out for it in a bowl. In the 19th century superstitious Highlanders left offerings of milk at 'fairy hills' (prehistoric burial mounds) and standing stones for the faeries known as brownies.

Aspects of pagan moon worship also survived in folk magic and folk customs. People believed warts could be cured by a simple ritual at new moon. When its crescent was first seen in the night sky a handful of soil was taken from under the right foot of the sufferer. This was then made into a paste using the affected person's saliva and spread over the infected part of the skin. This was then covered with a dressing and left until the lunar disc had waxed to full and then waned again. It was removed when the crescent of the next new moon was seen in the sky. It was said that this procedure was always successful in removing the blemish. Unmarried women also performed a ritual at the new moon to divine who their future lovers or husbands would be. When they could see the lunar crescent in the sky they sat astride a gate or stile without any underwear on. They then recited the following charm:

'All hail to thee the moon, All hail to thee, I privy good moon, declare to me, This very night, who my husband shalt be'

Various wells and springs all over Scotland were visited until comparatively recent times for healing purposes. Many of these places were said to have specific properties to heal diseases and illnesses in a throwback to pre-Christian times. For instance any well dedicated to St Tegla was claimed to be able to cure the 'falling sickness', probably dizziness caused by fluctuating blood pressure levels. St John's Well at Balmanno in Kincardshire was frequented by parents taking their children to be cured of rickets, a once common disease caused by malnutrition. St Kilda's Well cured deafness and drinking the waters of Trinity Well in Perthshire was reputed to be able to cure even the so- called Black Death, or bubonic plague.

St Fillan's Well near Tyndwell in Perthshire was visited by those suffering from mental illness. They were first dipped in the water by their carers and then taken to a nearby chapel. Once inside they were tied up and the chapel's bell was placed on top of their heads. The patient was then left in this uncomfortable and rather undignified position overnight. When their relatives returned the next morning at dawn they were supposed to have been cured.

Another well used to try and cure the mentally ill was situated on the isle of St Maelrubla on Loch Moree in Ross and Cromarty. Near the well was a tree where pilgrims hammered coins into its trunk as offerings to the saint or the spirit of the well. There were also the remains of a stone altar on the island allegedly used by the druids to sacrifice bulls on in ancient times. When St Columba arrived in the area he reconsecrated it to the Christian faith.

People suffering from depression, anxiety, or other mental problems were rowed out to the island in boats. Just before reaching landfall they were thrown out into the shallow water and then dragged by ropes the rest of the way to the shore. Once at the well they were forced to drink the water and a piece of their clothing was cut off and hung from one of the branches of the tree. An offering of a coin was then made by hammering it into the trunk. It was said that the well's healing properties were negated when a shepherd threw his mad dog into it. This apparently caused the spirit who inhabited the well to leave.

Some of the holy wells were only potent at certain times of the year. One example was at Craigie, which only possessed healing properties on the first Sunday in May. Its waters were said to be a powerful antidote to all known diseases, malefic witchcraft and the baleful influence of the Good People or faery folk. Crowds gathered at the well and colored threads and scraps of clothing were hung on the shrubs and rocks surrounding it.Other wells were given offerings of pins, needles or coins in a far memory of the sacrifices given to water deities in pagan times.

The prehistoric megalithic monuments of Scotland still retained their special nature after the conversion to the new religion. An ancient custom of holding legal courts at stone circles for settling property and land disputes survived into historical times. The bishop of Aberdeen held one at the Ring of Peddles and a nobleman called William de Saint Michael was summoned to attend it. He was asked to explain why he had seized some property from the Catholic Church. Forty years later the son of King Robert II of Scotland held a special court at a stone circle and called the bishop of Moray to justify why he was making a claim on some land at Badenoch. This ancient custom also survived in Wales. In the 1980s a man asked a council official to meet him on neutral ground at the Pentre Ifan cromlech near Newport in Pembrokeshire to discuss a longstanding property disagreement.

Following the conversion of the pagan Scots prehistoric sites like stone circles, standing stones and burial mounds were popularly believed to be the meeting places of witches, the haunts of spirits of the ancestral dead, and the habitat of faeries, elves and goblins. One witch was seen to regularly visit a local standing stone for unknown purposes of a magical nature. Another, Helen Rogie of Lumpahana, was accused of building a cairn or pile of stones on a hilltop for the practice of alleged 'devil worship.' She was probably making offerings to, or doing rituals involving, the genii loci.

In 1649 the male witch Andro or Andrew Man was accused of setting up a stone as an idol. He was seen to perform a "superstitious ceremony", taking off his hat to bow to it. In his defense Man claimed it was only a boundary stone marking the edge of his land and the beginning of his neighbor's. This is interesting in itself as in prehistoric times standing stones were often erected for just this purpose, to divide one tribe's land from another's. Such boundary makers were also regarded as having a magical liminal significance. The kirk refused to accept Man's explanation and decided he was performing some kind of “heathenish practice". He was ordered to break the stone into four pieces.

One of the earliest recorded examples of witchcraft in Scotland was in the 2nd century CE when King Natholocus consulted a famous witch living on the sacred island of Iona. The King had just lost an important battle with a rebel army who were trying to overthrow him. He sent a messenger to the witch to ask her advice about what he should do next. Unfortunately after consulting the spirits she predicted the King would be murdered. This dastardly deed would not be carried out by one of his enemies, but by somebody close to him who he trusted.

The King's messenger demanded to know by whose treacherous hand his master would be killed. The witch gave a mocking laugh and replied; "Even thine, so shalt be well known within these few days." The man returned to court in some distress and at first he was reluctant to pass the witch's prediction to the King. He thought if he told the truth the King would put him to death. However, if he kept it secret one of the others present might tell the King anyway. Only one possible alternative was left. Just as the witch had predicted, he entered the King's bedchamber during the night and stabbed him dead while he slept.

St Patricus or Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, was a 5th century Romano-British subject allegedly kidnapped by Irish pirates and sold as a slave to the king of the Dalriada tribe in Scotia. However an alternative story says that Patrick was forced to flee from his home country of Scotland to Ireland after being attacked by the witches of Dumbarton. He fled in a boat across the sea to escape them as he knew the dark sisterhood were unable to cross water. 

During the 7th century King Kenneth became so concerned at the widespread practice of witchcraft and wizardry in his Scottish kingdom that he passed a new law condemning its practitioners to death. Three hundred years later King Duffus (who reigned from 962 to 966), the son of King Malcolm I, fell ill with a mysterious malady and began to physically fade away. His physicians could not help him and they began to believe some form of witchcraft was involved in the ruler's dramatic and potentially fatal decline in health.

A few days after the King became ill word reached the court that a number of witches had been gathering nearby to magically bring his death. A young girl who worked in the royal kitchens had been overheard threatening Duffus' life. The governor of Forres Castle immediately ordered her to be arrested and interrogated about the alleged plot. She named her own mother as the head of a witches' coven casting spells against the sick King. As a result of the servant girl's confession several women including her mother were detained. They were caught red- handed in the act of roasting a wax image representing the King over a fire. Once the image had been destroyed and the witches summarily executed the King recovered his health.”

—

Scottish Witches and Warlocks

by Michael Howard

[prof-peach]

How strong is your team?,I remember you saying that you and your team have won some leagues back when you were a trainer so they must be pretty strong, did they ever face the elite 4 or champions, I faced Drake back when I entered in the league and he almost wiped out my whole team and Steven Stone, my blaziken couldn’t even leave a scratch on his metagross

I’d say they’re strong enough yeah. 20+ years working with them, whenever I go on holiday to new locations I usually take some of the original set to help boost their skills and abilities, Val and Booker (vulpix and teddiursa) are the two who stick by me no matter what, so they’re by far the most potent and capable. We’ve done the gyms and leagues sure, even a couple of the elite 4 sets, but not officially. Winning some certificate or trophy doesn’t really appeal to any of us, our merits are won through hard work, not shiny showy items or titles. You won’t find our names, or my trainer number on any form, or in the records, but we usually hunt down the regional champs to fight for fun, like a jovial spar more than an official match. Most of them we win, some we lose, it’s about 80-20 win ration so far, last one we lost to was Diantha, with the recent discovery of fairy typing when we first visited her location, it took us by surprise at how adept she was with the Pokemon within that bracket, but who knows, might go back one day and try again. It was a long time ago now, so we’ve all probably gotten a lot stronger, I know for a fact my team don’t take losing very well, and put their energy into training to cover their weaknesses or disadvantages once back home from trips. More recently we caught Leon out in the field, I think he got lost but it was convenient for us, was a nice test of strength, and we did win, though I had a couple of Pokemon with me that were Galar born and bred, and I’d been working very hard with them to strategise and increase their skills. One Golisopod, one Lycanroc(midnight), that’s all it took, just happened to pick a couple of partners who had all the advantages against him. Luck perhaps, and he didn’t have that ridiculous gigantamax gimmick to lean on, perhaps that’s why we won that day.

As for the johto champs where we’re located, they send us their Pokemon when they go away for vacations and stuff, so we have to handle them. Lance often drops off half his team for care and rest, we see Cynthia come by too sometimes, leaving a couple of troublemakers with us to take a vacation or get treatment. We offer up resort level care for Pokemon who come by, and try to give them as much time and space as they need. That being said they don’t always like us at the start, especially if it’s their first visit. You’ve got to deal with flared tempers and distrust, so we try to handle them with stern but non-hostile methods to put them in their place for their stay, a lot of handling them is based in confidence and standing your ground when they act up, it’s not easy or for the feint of heart but we manage just fine. Seems the dragon tamers trust us, though I’ve not really paid it much attention until now, we get a lot of them come by. My team handle their work well, I’m not sure how to gauge their skill level, I suppose they’re veterans now, but I put my trust in them entierly. I know just how much my confidence in them means, and that faith gives them the power they need to do their job well, and protect the staff and other Pokemon. Hard work pays off.

[onewomancitadel]

I probably need to do actual research in order to articulate my point properly about foiling vs. romantic coding.

Though I think that if you have two characters who make a lot of sense in respect to each other, or define each other, it's probably quite natural to ship them (especially if you don't have romantic language to articulate why you like a certain thing, e.g. the dialectical relationship of ideas defining each other realised in a character driven thematic romance) - so that itself is not the issue - but it's an error to assume that's all it is, that foiling isn't in service to a greater idea and simply a method of realising said idea.

To use a platonic example: Qrow and Tyrian are clearly defined foils as respective borderline fanatics of their bad wizard leaders (Salem and Ozma); the purposeful foiling conveys Qrow's commitment over Tyrian's worship, and Qrow's subsequent disillusionment (and recommitment) contrasted against Tyrian's worship which was always cemented in true knowledge and belief.

It forces you to reconsider Salem and Ozma's conflict, and their respective heroism and villainy. Tyrian is the only of Salem's followers to know the whole truth. Likewise, it's necessary for Ozma's side to all learn the truth. In an ironic way, Salem is 'better' to Tyrian than Ozma was to Qrow (so to speak), but that also makes Tyrian worse. What makes Qrow more compelling by extension is that he commits to doing the right thing anyway. Ultimately what it says about him is that it's not just about Ozma anymore, it's about that true heroic drive.

That's not romantic coding, though you can definitely read what you like into that tail curl at the end of V7. That fight is great too, because Clover is Qrow's other foil (of the blind fanatic good guys aware of what their boss truly wants). Clover is, 'I'm you, if you didn't suck,' but the irony is that Qrow is and always will be 'the better Huntsman,' as Robyn put it.

Clover and Tyrian are the two true characters alike, whereas Qrow is the middle path and balance.

Romance is much more than that, though it certainly can use foiling, that's not all it is. To demonstrate: Cinder is nobody, nothing, who has no parents and had to choose her own surname, meanwhile Jaune comes from a line of Huntsmen and family legacy is a major theme of his early arc. Winter has the similar family legacy theme, contrasting against Cinder (Schnees, top of Atlas elite, compared to the literal child slave), so this isn't sufficient on its own to say which ship is necessarily better than another. Rather, the question here would be what's the purpose for their character arcs and what the romances could be doing in the story. Winter and Cinder's stories contrast each other, because both of them suffer (and succeed) in different ways, and if one can be redeemed (Winter) so too should the other (Cinder) to heal those structural wounds.

Meanwhile with Jaune and Cinder, whilst that nobody/somebody theming is still itself potent - especially the 'good' Huntsman who would want to help independently of whatever and whoever they're both meant to do and be - the way it answers their respective character arcs (what is Jaune meant for? Who was ever supposed to help Cinder unconditionally?) and the overall themes of the show (legacy of Salem/Ozma, reaching out, compassion, not fighting what you hate but saving what you love) is really doing the work there above all. Character contrast/foiling is in service of that.

And then sometimes it's as simple as a je ne sais quoi. I like when she steps on him and he's looking up at her with bedroom eyes.

[kemetic-dreams]

In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Africa witnessed an explosion of missionary activity. The success of missionaries during this period was due in large part to the onset of colonial rule, which made clear to Africans the benefit of European education. 

Robin Horton writes: “With the advent of the twentieth century … Europeans came to be seen as symbols of power, and Christianity itself came to be seen as part of a larger order, comprising Western education, colonial administration, commerce and industry, with which everyone had henceforth to reckon. These changes created a much more favorable climate for conversion.” (Horton 1971, 86). The provision of education soon became the main reward used by missionaries to lure Africans into the Christian sphere, and so much so that even by the late colonial period, nearly all education was still provided by missionaries.

The decision of where to locate foreign mission stations is of central importance for the empirical analysis. A number of factors played a role in determining a mission’s location. Among the most important were access to a clean water supply, the ability to import supplies from Europe, and an abundance of fertile soil that could be used to grow crops (Hildegard Binder Johnson 1967). The locations of missions also exhibited a form of path dependence. The routes of initial missionary explorers determined which parts of Africa were the most well-known

 From these first stations, larger networks of stations, that together formed a series of trans-shipment points from the coast to the interior were developed. By creating these networks, missionaries could penetrate deep into the interior while maintaining access to supplies from Europe. The colonial railway network also provided an additional means of remaining connected with Europe, and therefore was another factor that affected mission locations. 

The final factor of importance was the slave trade. Missionaries sought to bring an end to the slave trade within Africa, and thus a concerted effort was made to locate mission stations in areas where slavery was prevalent (Johnson 1967). In the analysis, I am careful to control for these potential determinants of the locations of mission stations. If these factors have an independent impact on long-term conversion, then not properly accounting

The early planters of Christianity did not intend to enter into the thoughts world and patterns of the Africans, into their religious psychology, their ethos, and ethical conceptions and values. Struck and shocked by those gross and transient aspects of our culture, the missionaries shuddered and glossed over the positive merits of our cultural institutions.

 Christian missionaries in their invisible if inculpable anthropological ignorance of the Africans conceived or seemed to have conceived their mission as that of imparting not only the Christian religion, but also culture and civilization-and the Western civilization precisely. The battle of the cross and the crescent and other local studies revealed certain major characteristics which formed a pattern in missionary expansion. 

When the humanitarians and evangelicals turned their attention to overseas mission and away from alleviating the dismal by-products of early industrialization in England, they had to depend on the aid of the colonial governments.

Toyin Falola asserts that there were some missionaries who believed that "the agenda of colonialism in Africa was similar to that of Christianity". 

Falola cites Jan H. Boer of the Sudan United Mission as saying, "Colonialism is a form of imperialism based on a divine mandate and designed to bring liberation – spiritual, cultural, economic and political – by sharing the blessings of the Christ-inspired civilization of the West with a people suffering under satanic oppression, ignorance and disease, effected by a combination of political, economic and religious forces that cooperate under a regime seeking the benefit of both ruler and ruled.

Edward Andrews writes: Historians have traditionally looked at Christian missionaries in one of two ways. The first church historians to catalogue missionary history provided hagiographic descriptions of their trials, successes, and sometimes even martyrdom. Missionaries were thus visible saints, exemplars of ideal piety in a sea of persistent savagery. However, by the middle of the twentieth century, an era marked by civil rights movements, anti-colonialism, and growing secularization, missionaries were viewed quite differently. Instead of godly martyrs, historians now described missionaries as arrogant and rapacious imperialists.

 Christianity became not a saving grace but a monolithic and aggressive force that missionaries imposed upon defiant natives. Indeed, missionaries were now understood as important agents in the ever-expanding nation-state, or "ideological shock troops for colonial invasion whose zealotry blinded them

Adriaan van Oss wrote: If we had to choose a single, irreducible idea underlying Spanish colonialism in the New World, it would undoubtedly be the propagation of the Catholic faith.

 Unlike such other European colonizing powers as England or the Netherlands, Spain insisted on converting the natives of the lands it conquered to its state religion. Miraculously, it succeeded. 

Introduced in the context of Iberian expansionism, Catholicism outlived the empire itself and continues to thrive, not as an anachronistic vestige among the elite, but as a vital current even in remote mountain villages. Catholic Christianity remains the principal colonial heritage of Spain in America. More than any set of economic relationships with the outside world, more even than the language first brought to America's shores in 1492, the Catholic religion continues to permeate Spanish-American culture today, creating an overriding cultural unity which transcends the political and national boundaries dividing the continent.

The Native Americans only gave way to the force of the European after they were overcome with the diseases the Europeans had spread. The Evangelization of the natives in the Americas began with private colonization. The Crown tried to establish rules to protect the natives against any unjust war of conquest. The Spanish could start a war against those who rejected the kings authority and who were aware and also rejected Christianity. There was a doctrine developed that allowed the conquest of natives if they were uncivilized.

Friars and Jesuits learned native languages instead of teaching the natives Spanish because they were trying to protect them from the colonists’ negative influences. In addition, the missionaries felt it was important to show the positive aspects of the new religion to the natives after the epidemics and harsh conquest that had just occurred

The Spanish were the first of the future European countries to colonize North and South America. They came into the region predominantly through Cuba and Puerto Rico and into Florida. The Spaniards were committed, by Vatican decree, to convert their New World indigenous subjects to Catholicism. However, often initial efforts (both docile and coerced) were questionably successful, as the indigenous people added Catholicism into their longstanding traditional ceremonies and beliefs. 

The many native expressions, forms, practices, and items of art could be considered idolatry and prohibited or destroyed by Spanish missionaries, military, and civilians. This included religious items, sculptures, and jewelry made of gold or silver, which were melted down before shipment to Spain.

Though the Spanish did not impose their language to the extent they did their religion, some indigenous languages of the Americas evolved into replacement with Spanish, and lost to present day tribal members. When more efficient they did evangelize in native languages. The introduction of writing systems to the Quechua, Nahuatl and Guarani peoples may have contributed to their expansion.

In the early years most mission work was undertaken by the religious orders. Over time it was intended that a normal church structure would be established in the mission areas. The process began with the formation of special jurisdictions, known as apostolic prefectures and apostolic vicariates. These developing churches eventually graduated to regular diocesan status with the appointment of a local bishop. After decolonization, this process increased in pace as church structures altered to reflect new political-administrative realities. 

Ralph Bauer describes the Franciscan missionaries as having been "unequivocally committed to Spanish imperialism, condoning the violence and coercion of the Conquest as the only viable method of bringing American natives under the saving rule of Christianity." Jordan writes "The catastrophe of Spanish America's rape at the hands of the Conquistadors remains one of the most potent and pungent examples in the entire history of human conquest of the wanton destruction of one culture by another in the name of religion

[sasorikigai]

“ are you okay, my love? “ goddess liv @ scorpion!

comfort prompts for a lover’s nightmare || @somniaxperdita || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Although Scorpion’s body stays in their shared bed, his mind drifts along, and he cannot bare to close his white iridescent full moon eyes, because his existence is getting heavier and heavier. The conflict in his heart is not merely a simple war for independence and liberation, for his scalding, surging streams of hellfire will ravenously want to eat. Like the wolves’ teeth, ravaging and devouring through his being. His memories of crude, vicious death is never clouded by sharp and bitter winds; for no dying spark of his Arcana and heartstring could match the internal strife and defiant rage of his heart and soul. Hanzo Hasashi could never fathom to perceive the weak despair of his hardened, scarred body, made to be the perfect weapon against any looming threats of usurping darkness that will annihilate the Shirai Ryu and Earthrealm as a whole. 

Even as the broken proverbial strength of the Shirai Ryu’s Elite desperately crawled to find the unbroken light fueling the gentle flame of his indomitable willpower and passion. In the settling, darkening twilight, Hanzo Hasashi’s defiant, yet fatally-wounded being would ebb and flow as the eradicating vigor would permeate the Earth with the vehement ebb and flow of his sanguine waterfall. In Scorpion’s deep rumination, crossing the threshold of death-like slumber, how such self-reflection turns into self-destruction when he lets himself be caught in the midst of a spiral. The Demon of Crimson screaming and yelling, begging to see itself, painted further across Hanzo Hasashi’s body to be excused as a masterpiece of Scorpion’s existence. Comfortability with anything loved and treasured has left which means the scratchy monsters are howling at his vulnerable heart, as violated ribcage continue to gape and excruciatingly drain as the twisted blade unfurls his viscera out in the open. 

Without his proverbial harnessed strength and the sheer force of his hellfire’s nature, Scorpion’s body remains lingering in the empty nothingness of this cold, merciless universe. With eyes blinded, mouth sewn shut, voice silenced, as to all they have betrayed him. He is already far from sane, as his heart rumbles and entrapped hellfire roars to char the expanse of his internal organs. How the frigid coldness of Death once again strips him naked, showing his wounds cut open, macerated, and mutilated. 

“My heart remains tattered, and yet, my undying resolve becomes all it takes for hope to bloom in my kintsugi heart - for it looks at myself with such yearning, such potent desire to break this deathly spell and triumph over it,” even in the throes of his tribulations, Scorpion’s resilience remains unfaltering, lest the bleeding cracks of his lips and shattered mirror of his face begins to gradually crumble. How he continues to be tormented with all too familiar darkness, as he simultaneously yearns for the light of death in the same way as a lover yearns for his beloved. The light of death falls upon Scorpion, and its softness and brightness would sever his ties with darkness. If all the memories of his life could only depart him with sorrow, as his life would become nothing, but a fragment of a dream... 

“My mind feels so loud and dominating sometimes, polluted with thoughts and feelings of my unjustified death, and yet, the only reprieve, the sound of deafening silence dwelling within me simply wishes me to relinquish it all, to meet my disintegrating death... and yet, I am not foolish nor weak to simply let my nonexistence take its place.” With his chiseled, once-handsome features contorting with excruciating pain, Scorpion relents, even against the suffocating onslaught of whipping tendrils as the light dwelling within his eyes flicker and flutter. “If I bore the weight of my crumbled world, then I can endure through this as well.”  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

[pokemonthingsandstuff]

My mum offered to help me train up, since Hop's busy and Jamie's just got a lot on his plate.

It's really hard to forget that she's a former Gym Leader, but it's getting been getting easier to beat her each year. She decided to bring a full team of six, three of which were her old gym battlers, so here's a quick fact about all six species.

Aegislash: Roland, this sweet steel bastard, has a tendency to do very stupid things. He is nocturnal, he can float through walls but he makes stupid loud metal screeching noises when he does, and just. Floats. Menacingly. I love him, he's just terrifying if I don't expect him.

Bisharp: Juno is a surprisingly nice Bisharp, so I've had some fun experiences with these sharp chess piece pokemon. They aren't very loving parents, mostly, but if a Pawniard's blade chips, the Bisharp parent will take extra care of that specific Pawniard until they're once again an equal in the group. Usually, that's about a month or two.

Corviknight: Morgan is a very smart, albeit shy, bird. Since she's got soft feathers on her underwings, I'll sometimes hang out under there since she likes me. She's also had a few nests, and sometimes her birdy babes from the year before come to help her raise her new hatchlings. This is common behavior for the line, and it's adorable.

Roserade: Adonis was raised by my mum since she was a little girl in Kalos, and she openly admits that he's her favourite. Wild Roserade poison is much more potent, but a domestic one has bigger and brighter flowers. Domestic rosies are usually much heavier than wild ones, too.

Gallade: Jupiter has, and forgive me for saying this, pretty much become my uncle by this point. The adults of the line tend to do that with human children. Funnily enough, Gallades are much more likely to hang around human civilizations than any other member of their line. It's actually kind of hilarious, seeing a wild Gallade sitting on a bench in the middle of Motostoke.

Lucario: Athena isn't particularly skilled at being a Lucario, since she just evolved and is very insistent on battling to get better. Anyways, she spent the entire battle telepathically asking me and Mum questions about how she could do better, something about 50% of Lucario trainers might have to deal with upon evolution. It was kind of a shock at first, but it was like answering a 10-year-old's questions after a while.

Oh, and bonus battling tip: Make sure your moves have variety to them. Grandma Aubrey got through almost the entirety of the Kalos League with only a Delphox, a Chandelure, and a Houndoom. She kept their moves varied, and only got knocked out at a Water-type Specialist Elite 4 member, not Siebold because he wasn't born yet.

I, meanwhile, managed to make it two years with Loki only knowing physical Dark-type moves. I managed to get her through the League in a half-year, and then after 18 months Dean asked me to battle him the next day. (For reference, he uses mostly Fighting-types.) I ended up teaching Loki Play Rough beforehand so that she had at least one counter. She's now got a revolving door of moves, with Beat-Up being the only consistent move she has. It's made battling a lot easier, now that I actually have more counters to other types.

[sahbibabe]

Hello! Hope you're having a wonderful day. I have a request, if that's okay with you. Can I have a soulmate AU 1#? The one about the craving? With Rufus? I was thinking, Rufus with a poor soulmate who craves the expensive foods he eats but doesn't have the money to buy them and sometimes doesn't even know what she's craving because it probably doesn't exist where she lives. I'm sorry if it's too detailed. It's okay if you don't want to do it. Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Here you go! I hope you enjoy! Tell me if you liked it and if not, what I can improve on! Thanks for requesting, hon! ♡

THE FIRST TIME IT HAPPENED, you were sitting in Seventh Heaven and trying to ignore the excited chatter and boisterous energy around you. You had just ordered what would be your meal for the night and the next morning─it was all you could afford, given your meager salary as a scrap collector. Tifa had given you a hefty discount, since you helped her out a lot by finding spare parts and fitting them to the building when she needed it, but you sometimes suspected it was out of pity.

     Your dinner─a plate consisting of two pork chops, rice, and a small salad─had cost you twenty gil. In the eyes of some, that was cheap, practically a penny out of their pockets; but for you, that was half your salary gone, and you rationed out the rest through cheaply packaged ramen that ran for one gil at the market. You weren't very healthy as a result, but Tifa did her best to meet at least some of your body's nutritional requirements with what you could afford to buy. She had even slipped you a free slice of pie and a beer, said it was on her for helping out with watching Marlene, and disappeared before you could argue.

      When you couldn't afford even ramen, you bought food replacement tablets. They were cheaper than even those packets of noodles, could be gotten anywhere, and worked well enough to keep your appetite low as long as you didn't burn off too many calories working. Compared to you, Tifa and her group were well off, and they bought more food than they could handle. They didn't even box the rest up; Tifa would, though, and stow it away for later for them. It made you angry, and a little jealous.

       So when you had gotten the barest sip of your beer and tasted the most exquisite flavors you had ever been privy to in your entire life, you felt your mind go white trying to catch up with it. You had never tasted this before, whatever it was─it was strong, and tasted like pizza smelled, but it was… off, more potent.

       Your sister, before she married and moved topside, had told you about this; that people, when they were a certain age, tasted what their soulmate was eating. She also had said sometimes people have threads, others have telepathic thoughts, and even names on their arms. There was no real rhyme or reason to it, she told you, but it helped narrow down the selection pool to general salaries. Whatever that meant.

       The taste still lingering in your mouth, you looked down at your pork chops in disappointment, knowing you would not get the same satisfaction out of your food. You ate with a mechanical slowness, forcing yourself to appreciate what you got and to savor it. The beer and pie was only a little satisfying, mostly to your sweet tooth, but as you were walking to the bar to pay Tifa, the taste changed. Your soulmate was taking dessert, it seemed, because all you could taste was the cloying sweetness of strawberries and sugar, something tart or somewhat bitter.

       Your stomach felt very, very empty.

       You paid Tifa and she rung up your receipt.

      "How was the pie?" She asked, her eyes bright. Keen on conversation. "Did you like it? You were pretty slow tonight."

       "I'm sorry." You took the receipt from her and stuffed it down your bra with a sigh, too lazy to flip open the button lapel at your breast. "I just got my first… soulmate taste thing. Whatever you call it. I wish I could have enjoyed it more, to be honest."

      "Really?" Tifa motioned for you to sit down. Clearly you weren't going anywhere until she got all of the details out of you, haven't experienced it herself yet. "Tell me all about it and I won't get offended."

       "I'll take that," you laughed. Your stomach clenched uncomfortably, tasting the delicious dessert your soulmate was having but confused when nothing came down. "I don't know about the main course, but the dessert had fresh strawberries… I remember those from when my mom would steal them from up topside. Sugar. Something bitter, but with its own sweetness. I've only ever eaten ramen and your food my whole life so I can't say what it was."

       You hadn't noticed that Cloud had taken a seat one over from you until he spoke.

       "That sounds like the Soireé up top." When you blinked at the long absent merc with confusion, he elaborated grudgingly,"A lot of Shinra execs would eat it. It's a dessert. Strawberries and blueberries. I overheard a conversation about it. Sounds like what you were describing."

       "Oh, so they must have money, then, to eat topside," Tifa gasped. "I wonder who it could be!"

       "I don't know." You shrugged and rubbed your stomach, grimacing at the twang of pain. "Well, I'll head on home now. Thanks for the pie, Tifa. Just call if you need anything."

        "Sure thing, [Name]! Get home safe."

       For the next five years, you suffered with your soulmate's eating habits, and over time, you got good at determining when they ate. Their favorite food seemed to be some kind of soup that had very little flavor, but their palette was large and vast. They ate three times a day, ate a snack inbetween, or drank some gods awful concoction of chocolate and bitter powder that you couldn't stand and took days to get out of your mouth.

       In those five years, you had gone from lowly scrap collector to the illustrious Madame M's secretary and student. She boarded you and fed you extremely better food than you had ever eaten before, supplied you with a far more generous salary because she liked you and treated you like a daughter, and even helped you get healthy and into physical shape.

       You could massage someone's hand like nobody's business, or even do the poor man's massage, but what you really specialized in was a unique method of acupuncture that stimulated relaxation and blood flow. Madame M had deemed you successful enough to take your own clients, but refused to let you take hers; you had to gather your own.

      So topside you went, clothed in traditional garb as she had told you, with your hair pinned up and decorated with jewels from Madame M's prized collection. She had given them to you with a proud smile, along with some rather serious looking adoption papers that would allow her to become your official mother. Even at twenty-nine years old you had cried like a baby and hugged her. She didn't even tut like she normally would and hug you back.

       But as soon as you were topside, you couldn't resist it.

      You tracked down the restaurant that sold the Soireé.

      +

      When Rufus woke up tasting strawberries and blueberries in his mouth, he sat ramrod straight in his chair. At his feet, Darkstar whined and nudged his knee, but he ignored it and focused more intently on the flavors playing on his tongue.

       It was the unique taste of a Soireé.

      Over the years, he had tasted many things, things that he had looked up and found belonged to the slummers, then the middle class elite, or the oriental flavors of Wall Market cuisines. None of it had ever come close to touching the foods that he ate or the indulgences he found himself to favor, but this was the first time he had ever tasted something so expensive from his soulmate.

       A slummer no more, it seemed.

      He raised an eyebrow and hit a number on a rotary phone his father insisted on keeping. "Tseng."

       "Yes, Mister President?"

       "Find out who's eating a Soireé at Vallei Astra."

      Tseng was very, very quiet for a few moments. He wisely didn't question it. "Yes sir. I'll be back with you in a moment."

    +

       She sat on the back patio facing a genuine ray of sunshine. The manager had escorted him to her with a sickly smile, sweating bullets, and mumbled under his breath the entire time while he did. Rufus had quickly made him leave once he got sight of his target.

       She wore the oriental styles of the Wall Market; a black kimono, a dark purple obi, and brilliant red and white cranes and dragonflies sewn into it with a careful hand. A very expensive piece of silk indeed. She wore true jewels in her hair, a far cry from a slummer's jewelry, and from behind, wore her hair in a high bun with some strands left to dangle around her shoulders.

        He had seen Madame M once, when she answered a personal call for his father. She had left the building in a rage, but he had heard her yelling at him when the massage had been finished. Her obi har been untied when she left. Rufus could only assume his father had been attempting to make her his mistress.

       This girl, her student, was bound to be a spitfire.

       He straightened his tie and stepped outside. A pair of cool, calm [color] eyes turned and regarded him, a plucked eyebrow raised, as if asking who dared to interrupt her dessert. Even sitting, she looked down her nose at him.

       Oh, yes, he would enjoy every part of this… Starting with those eyes.