#corpus indulgence

[thecorpuscorpse]

#6- An Anonymous Source

CW: Knife use and blood, some 'fighting', mild kidnapping

It had been two months since the sealed letters began showing up on Villains bedroom window at night when they weren't there. Each one with a different wax embellishment on the front, made of paper worn with time, and never signed. The swirling perfection of the calligraphy was unlike anything Villain had seen before, just like the words they formed. Five letters were stacked on the desk, and the sixth Villain held by the lamplight, eyes scanning over words they always wished to hear. In brief moments, they almost believed them.

The life they lived was not as tender as the words directed at them. There was no beauty in bloodshed- not anymore, at least. Yet, whoever seemed to be hiding in their blind spot thought otherwise. With how long they ran Headquarters, it was refreshing to have a little spice in the routine of wondering who thought so highly of someone as lowly as them.

After sending their squads out for recon, Villain remained tucked away in their office at headquarters to keep an eye on cameras when one detected movement in the server room. Villain knew each employee schedule inside and out- after all, they arranged each one. Within the orchestrated machine-like facility Villain spent so many years building up, the blaring alarm was akin to grinding gears.

Hero.

Every so often, Hero would figure out a new password Villain set, or intercept shipment plans that then would lead Villain to foil Heros plans, and the process would repeat in a few weeks. It was so hard to find good help nowadays, so Villain found handling Hero a nice break from handling paperwork. There was monotony in routine, but at least they could take their impatience with their anonymous admirer out on the other.

"Dammit... now of all times, Hero?" They snapped as they stood from their desk.

As much as the alarm irked them, Villain was more irritated their work was being interrupted. Scanners failed to pick up any DNA trace, leading them to another dead end. Somewhere, someone saw Villain and thought fondly of them. For a while, the simple knowledge of it was enough to qualm the loneliness, but now was more of a curse. They called the author a coward. They called the letters a trap. Yet, Villain headed down the hall to pursue a perpetrator after they stayed up until four in the morning... again... to read the letters in hope something would tell them who claimed to adore them so.

The door to the server room was ajar, main lights turned out. The dull glow of blinking red, blue and yellow lights cast shadows on the wall in varied patterns. The main lights were shorted, forcing them to identify misplaced figures in the dim light. It only dug further into Villains impatience with the matter. Against the low hum of the computers, a tinny clank echoed near the back wall.

Villain kept steady strides slow, mindful of the linoleum under their shoes and how quiet their breath was. Silence, as well as any leverage, was better than none, and it worked to Villains virtue when it guided the blade to the turned back of who they knew was tampering with their tech.

"I don't have time for you tonight, Hero," Villain said as they pressed the knife against their spine. "There is plenty of work for me as is without you getting involved."

Dressed in all-black, which happened to be quite flattering for the Hero, they tuned after setting their tools down and raising their hands. Villain took a step forward and pressed the edge to their throat.

"That's why I figure I'd lighten the load~" Hero said, offering an innocent shrug. "By-"

"Yes, yes, thwarting my recruitment of more people through disrupting our log system," Villain droned, pressing the blade harder. "Now really, I do have pressing matters to attend to."

There was a static in the air, and not from the whirring machines around them. The more Villain stood in it, the more irritated they got. It showed in the quick right cross-swing of butt-end of the knife towards Heros head before the move was blocked by Heros hand.

"Wow, whats the matter with you?" Hero mused with a shit-eating grin as he twisted Villains arm into a lock behind their back. The knife clattered onto the floor. "Not very like you to 'not have time for me', Villain. Plus, what a sloppy execution."

"You don't know me, Hero," Villain hummed with a smile in their voice, flexing their hand under Heros grip. "So I'll show you a real sloppy execution."

Villain dug their heel into Heros foot, and used the momentum to twist them to slam into the server paneling. With the grip loosened, Villain snaked away and went for the knife. It was only a second more before Villain was swept off their feet- literally- and hit the ground.

"Yeah, that was pretty sloppy too," Hero said as they went to further restrain the fallen Villain. "You're making me jealous, don't tell me there's another Hero you have to go cause havoc for~ Ugh, I'll be heartbroken!"

Villain struggled against Heros grasp, writhing and twisting their body so they could never get a solid pin. While Hero had their brawn at their side, Villain knew it was only a matter of leverage.

"I do, but they aren't a Hero~"

They took the moment Hero stalled in their attempts to pin them down to get their lets out to kick Hero back, knocking the wind out of them. Villain went for the knife again and came up behind Hero to hold the knife to their throat again.

"Bullshit," Hero gasped out, though an amused smile graced their stupid face. "I can barely tolerate you as it is."

Villain contemplated for a moment. What harm would a white lie do when they didn't even know who was writing the letters? There would be no one else to go after. It would be nice to pretend- Villain did it enough as it was.

"Oh, you should hear how they talk about their love for my vile and vulgar ways Hero. How they adore the plans of misery I make for the thousands," Villain gripped Heros hair and tilted their head back to look at them proper. "And the tongue they have..."

"Then why aren't you with them now?"

"Because I'm dealing with you," Villain said as their jaw set. "A thorn in my side since we crossed paths, and always coming back like a damn infection," They brought the edge up against Heros neck. "You are pestiferous- a plague in my life every time your head pops up." Villain narrowed their eyes, bringing small beads of blood against the blade. "And I think I'm going to purge the source tonight."

"Then do it."

Below them, there was a rumble followed by a blaring alarm from what Villain assumed was a few floors down. It only took one distracted second for Hero grab Villains wrist and flip them over and onto their back before they dove behind a rack of server blocks. There was a flash, and the room filled with smoke. The colors against the smoke were disorienting, yet once Villain got hold of their knife, they could barely make out a figure escaping through one of the vents.

"One thing after a-fucking-nother..." Villain hissed as they ran out from the server room and towards the blaring fire alarm down below.

Once done dealing with the aftermath of a blown-apart storage unit, Villain trudged back up to their office and collapsed in their chair. It was now six in the morning, and looking at the camera they had set up to face their bedroom window at home- no letter to be seen on the window. They pushed their hair back with a sigh, before deciding to freshen up there, and continuing their monotonous work for their empire, with breaks reading loving words Villain needed to hear after such a long night.

---

The seventh letter was different than the rest.

It had taken longer than the rest to arrive- almost a month later than the last one, when the others came once or twice a week. Nights were seemingly endless when Villain would simply stare at the window from the camera. They knew if they were home, they wouldn't arrive, and so they worked long into the night, going home every few days to make sure their plants were watered.

Unlike the other ornate and delicately put together envelopes, the newest came in a simple black one. The handwriting was reminiscent of the others yet the words scrawled unsteadily. The droning news anchor in the background discussed the impending weather as Villain attempted to make sense of everything they were reading.

What was said was not the romantic poetry they were used to, of regrets and promises they wished to keep to Villain of seeing them, of truly being with them and being sure there would be nothing keeping them apart anymore.

The signature at the bottom made Villains heart sink. Not because of who had written the confession they read. Not because it was from someone they wouldn't have wanted at all. But because it wasn't a signature at all.

Except a smear of blood.

Villains head felt light, the corners of their vision hazing a little as they tried to make sense of what it all meant. They sat down in their chair, still staring at the letter before them. It wasn't until the news anchor interrupted their broadcast with breaking news.

'The beloved and respected savior of our beautiful city, Hero, has officially been pronounced dead today by coroners after their body had been returned to city officials by an anonymous source. Further details the cause to be released.'

"No..."

They took a long look at the radio, eyes wide in disbelief as their mind began to piece everything together. In a moment, they were at their sequencer and after they got a sample of the paper, pulled out their knife. What little blood left from their fight with Hero remained, and they flaked off the dry remains in the other bottle. Time blurred as they waited, walking crop circles into their carpet while the machine processed the samples.

They didn't see anyone on the cameras the night before. No sound, no disturbance. First nothing was on the window, and when daylight broke, there it was. They hadn't dealt with Hero recently, which they only grew to notice the more they thought.

They couldn't settle down, and any time their office door was knocked on, they would simply throw a book at it and tell whoever it was to bother them tomorrow. Word must have gone around because soon the knocking stopped and Villain was left alone with the machine, which whirred just like the servers did their last night with Hero.

They were pulled out of their mind when the machine stopped, and the face glowed green with the information Villain already put together in their walk about their office.

DNA Sequencing Completed- Results: 100% Match

---

Villain drummed their thumb against the steering wheel of the car. Occasionally, it would follow the tempo of their racing heart, or the shake in their muscles from the adrenaline in their blood. The timer they set on their phone for five minutes was halfway through. Villain regretted even permitting that much time to wait. It had been too long already, and with any more time, they could be too late.

Three minutes and no sign. Villain shifted in their seat, instead now tapping their foot and squeezing their hands together. The last they slept was indistinct, waiting for the right moment to make their next move. A drastic one, which would leave more loose ends than they would like, but it was just as a drastic situation they had on their hands.

Four minutes and Villain was getting ready to get out and handle the ordeal themselves. They checked to make sure their gun was loaded, as they did a dozen or so times before even though they hadn't used it. Before they reached the door handle, the passenger side opened to Villains relief.

"Very good. Hurry up." Villain said, gesturing with the gun to get in.

Five minutes was all Villain needed. As they sped off, the silence was cushioned by the low hum of the car. Villain didn't know what to think. What to say. What if, in the time they were gone, Hero was too? The thoughts were heavy as Villain drove, until their passenger pulled them out of their head.

"I shouldn't be doing this..."

"Then why are you." Villain said, rather than asked.

"Well, you told me with a gun to my head that you hunt me down and kill my girlfriend in front of me, then send my body parts to various family members."

"Good memory, and I will if you make any attempts to run."

"Good to know..." The accomplice said with a tight-lipped smile before looking down at the bag.

"And... I'm helping someone, aren't I?" They asked after another moment of passing silence. "Someone you care about?"

There was a thick lump that sunk into Villains throat. It irked them to know they had to get outside sources with such a high risk, but they were pushed to no other choice. They offered a single, but humble nod before turning off onto a dirt road.

"What the fuck did you say you did again?"

"I'm a first assistant," they said as they shuffled the medical bag on their lap while twisting the handles nervously. "Not quite a surgeon, but I'm getting there."

"Of course, I pick up the intern in the operating room..." Villain uttered as they watched the road. The car, being small, only allowed the young surgeon to hear the remark clearly.

"The operating rooms of the ICU," they huffed a bit too confidently for Villains liking. "Much more intense and less room for error. I mostly make sure the room is clean but I do help with sutures, and other general care."

With a less than patient sigh, Villain parked the car in the driveway and looked the young surgeon square in the face, gun held towards them with a finger threatening pressure on the trigger.

"Keep your attitude in check, and keep them alive." They said flatly. "Both the person I'm bringing you to, and your girlfriend."

It had just been the two of them since Hero showed up battered, beaten and bloodied just two weeks before. They hadn't gotten better and while Villain was good at many things, medical diagnosis weren't one of them. They took leave from work to get Hero somewhere more secluded than Villains home closer to the city.

When Hero was awake, Villain limited themselves to one question because Hero would get winded from speaking too much. Day by day, they learned how Hero wanted things to be different, not only for themselves only, but between the two. How they grew to love Villain, admire them and respect them, to want them yet be restricted from doing so. Hero detailed how they convinced a select few to assist them in faking their death with a glow which made Villain hopeful, but then Hero fell asleep before telling them how it went, and hadn't woke up since. It'd been three days.

With a nervous nod in understanding, the two got out of the car, and Villain walked the man to the house with a gun drawn on them the entire way. Sleepless nights were still to come, yet there was a bit more relief in knowing Hero stood more of a chance now. Villain hoped they didn't make a mistake, for Hero wouldn't be able to survive it.

#WOW much thank you for your patience! #with so much to work with I toyed around with what I wanted to do #plus life stuff idk #did you know it takes like weeks to sequence dna but the world record is 5 hours #so im going with that #i remember in my criminology class playing a ncis game about dna sequencing which I thought was pretty neat #did you also know that servers rooms benefit from valley areas because the wind is able to keep the building cooler? #there are also surgeons and first assistants and then surgical technicians like a tiered thing #anyways enjoy! #corpus indulgence #my writing #villain x hero #hero x villain #angst #writing #villain × hero

[vacancy-virtues]

#1- "A Life for a Life"

Cw: Kinda spicy with gun usage

The villain was no stranger to hiding from everyone's beloved hero. They always made sure they had some class about where they stowed away and it was no less than more than moderate in any circumstance. They found a cabin in a thicker part of the woods. It wasn't isolated, but too much commotion would alarm neighbors accustomed to the quiet.

It was small, but had a warm, cozy minimalist charm. French doors opened into a studio setting, the bed directly in front of the door. A darkened stone wall accented the adjacent wall with a small fireplace in the center, separating the bedroom and kitchen area. Sleek black appliances and marble countertops were spotless under the hanging lights. Off the kitchen was the bathroom, which was nothing short of extravagant as well. The bathtub was lined with fine agate pieces, and the fixtures were a bright and brilliant porcelain. Villains desk was in direct view of the bathroom and gave them a clear shot of the mirror on the wall. They could glance up, and see themselves, the glow of the laptop on their skin.

They wrote away their thoughts listlessly and at a dead-end of getting tired. Tired of the games. Tired of the tension. They didn't want to give up villainy, per say, but there was something hollow about it and the hole just grew with every dalliance. With every lead-on and cheat. The only thing Villain wanted most was Hero, but those days had been long gone when Sidekick came into the picture. Hero swore they'd just be an intern, and the other had nothing to worry about.

Things change, they supposed, and now were calloused to the destruction they caused even more so than before, hardly looking over plans before they went though and not caring what the outcome was.

The evening was quiet, save for the billowing wind outside on the rooftop. Snow had begun to fall at some point during the night, leaving the porch of the cabin a sludgy, frosty mess. Villain thought it lucky to be inside, wrapped in a blanket and enjoying their room.

And so was someone else.

"My, you sure like writing about me. You say I am the obsessed one?" Said a surprisingly familiar voice, different than that of the singer on the computer speaker.

The moment happened in an instant. Villain shot off their stool, and before they could run, Hero cornered them against the desk, their arms bracing on either side to prevent a quick escape. They were forced to look at each other, which wouldn't have been so bad if Hero didn't wear an expression of... well, Villain didn't know. They'd never seen this look before.

"What do you-"

"Seven months."

"...What?"

"It has been. Seven. Months. Since I have seen you. I thought I killed you! I-"

"You should be so lucky."

Hero reached up and grabbed Villains jaw forcefully, eyes shooting daggers to the sound of their gritting teeth.

"Don't get smart with me right now," Hero warned lowly.

Villain grinned, even under pressure on their jaw. "Or what, you're gonna 'disturb the peace?'" Villain air quoted. "Not very smart for a hero".

"You may not want to be the one saying who's smart when I was able to get in here without you noticing. It's a very nice place you've got. Even made myself tea."

And they did. The faint aroma of peach and white tea lingered on their breath, making the Villain crave the tea themselves. Depending on how things went, they may not even get the opportunity to try it. Villain had to play their cards right. They knew how to charm and dazzle, and no matter how badly Villain wanted Hero, they just had to treat them like someone else.

Villain decided to play along, "Yeah? Then I'm sure you've felt how comfortable the bed is," they said in a near purr, which caused the Hero to shove their face back forcefully in disgust, grip not loosening.

"Don't get vulgar with me, either," they spat.

"Oh, that wasn't even dirty, darling. Don't get that confused with me getting filthy either." Their hand moved from their jaw and latched onto their throat. Villain held onto their arm to brace for stability, noting the increased definition of it since they last saw each other.

"You. are not making this easier for me," Hero said lowly.

Thats right. Fluster them until their let their guard down, and then take them down in a choke hold when they weren't expecting it. Quick, quiet, and they could vanish to another end of the world before Hero woke back up. Just like they always did.

Villain never made it easy. That was their whole deal.

Villain grinned from the pressure on their neck. "When have I ever?" They inquired. "Its delightful watching you suffer so."

"Suffer?" Hero pointed, their grip tightening.

Wait.

"Suffer?" There was a change in tone - a beat of deepened seriousness.

Villain found themselves tossed to the ground and the moment they hit the hardwood, they scrambled up and raced for the door. A second too slow allowed Hero to pull on their wrist, twisting them around and slamming their body against the door. Heros hands wrestled down Villains onto either side of their head, leaving them panting and disheveled. This was it. This is the moment where Villain will quip something which-

Their train of thought derailed when they felt heated lips against theirs. Lips moved with fever and desperation, and Villains mind reveled at the fact their own lips moved back with shared intent. Their hands against Heros, but they kept them braced against the door, deepening the kiss by pulling Villains tongue with their own. They'd always wondered what they had tasted like, and it was better than they imagined.

Hero pulled away, a line of saliva connecting their lips. "Suffering is believing I killed you," they began, their head diving between Villains head and shoulder. "It's believing I took you out of the world when I so desperately need you in it." Their kisses were hot and peppered. Their voice was raspy and deep. Villain was overwhelmed, pleasantly so, but overwhelmed nonetheless.

"Don't bullshit me," Villain growled. Their hands tugged again, only to be squeezed harder. "You and Sidekick have got it good now.." Their breath hitched at a bite on their neck. ".. you got your publicity for my death.." A harder one. "So.. why are you doing this?" They breathed out softly.

"Again, you assume you're so smart, when you miss the blatantly obvious, like the tea on the counter before you checked in, or the fact I'm here on the grounds that I missed you."

The villains eyes widened slightly but they kept their resolve of feigned disdain. "You missed the fame I gave you. The plans I ruined for you. You missed showing off for your little fucking sidekick and-"

They were cut off by another kiss. Hero let Villains wrists go, and rather than turning to bolt, their hands wrapped around Heros shoulders as the kiss deepened. Hero kept them pressed against the door, and a leg maneuvered between Villains, earning a choked back groan.

"I let you live. I let you win. I showed off for you, and you kept coming back," Hero uttered near Villains ear. "Until you didn't, and it drove me mad."

Villains face was various shades of red at this point, hair in disarray from the heat of the moment. "I don't believe you," they started, their eyes narrow and mixed with cautious uncertainty. "This is a trick. A ploy, a-"

For a Hero, they were certainly rude about interrupting. Villain felt something hard, and cold against their stomach. They looked and saw Hero holding a sleek black gun with a gold barrel.

The grip faced Villain.

"Use it. You know its the one thing I always carry on me," Hero said, eyes steady on Villains. "A life for a life."

As Villain took the gun, they noted its significant weight compared to what they were used to. No wonder why Heros hands were so toned and defined. Villain looked the gun, rotating it in contemplation and observation, and then up at Hero.

"Get on your knees."

Hero nodded, maintaining eye contact while they slowly lowered themselves. Villain couldn't believe this was happening. Surely they would expect accomplice agents, or even that godforsaken Sidekick, to burst in and foil yet another plan. This was different. Hero had tells they showed when they knew backup was coming; shifting eyes, different foot posture, the way they carried their shoulders. Years of learning each other prompted this, yet now, Villain wasn't seeing any of it from Hero.

Villain kept their eyes on Hero, taking the gun more properly in their hand. They ran the muzzle alongside Heros jawline, the barrel reflecting their gaze on Villain. It pissed them off. Its not like Hero made the effort to look for them, and now they were here on their knees for them saying they missed them.

"You're pathetic," Villain muttered. "I could kill you right now and your last thought will be you on your knees for me." They angled the muzzle just below their chin and tilted Heros chin up.

"What a way to go, don't you agree?"

Villain scowled at this, and drew the muzzle up to their lips.

"Part them."

And Hero did, rather obediently at that. The moment their lips parted, Villain pushed the barrel of the handgun in their mouth, their finger dangerously caressing the trigger in a pointed way to let Hero know they weren't playing. However, the debauched sight of Hero, spit threatening to spill from the corner of their lips as they held the gun in their mouth let Villain know they weren't playing either.

Logic and feelings collided in their head as they had Hero choking on the barrel of their own gun at Villains wish. Their thumb cocked the barrel, the click of the rotating chamber echoing in the silent room. Villains finger lulled over the trigger, curling onto it only slightly. Hero didn't flinch or jerk at the sound, or even at the mere fact their life could be stripped away from them in an instant. Instead, their lolled out, pulling the barrel deeper into their mouth.

It was all too much.

Villain leaned down and took Heros hair in their hand, pulling it back. The gun left their mouth and instead was replaced with Villains. They could feel Heros tension melt away as their jaw slacked into the sloppy kiss, and this time, it didn't stop.Their tongues pushed together as Villain knelt over them, Hero remaining on their knees.

None of this made sense, but none of it seemed to have mattered to either of them. When the kiss broke apart, Villain used the the gun to gesture towards the bed. The two barely made it to the edge of the bed before Villain was on them again, bodies pressing together desperately as they shed layer upon layer of clothes.

Hero reached to grab Villains hands, but were met with resisting force. Villain pushed Hero back onto the plush comforter, pinning their arms down to either side of their head. Their hips ground down onto Heros, earning a stifled groan from the other, which was devoured in another kiss.

#villain × hero #hero x villain #angst #my writing #yeah i more wrote this for myself yall #but oh well huzzah to yall if you enjoy it as well #Corpus Indulgence

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monster Hunt: An Evil Without An End

Lady Talmere was a monster long before she rose from her grave, having taken to the recreational murder of commoners the way that others of her social class took to falconry or painting. Killing was a hobby for her, a privilege of her aristocratic birth that she could indulge while others were forced to work for a living. She chose her victims purely for the fact that it was easy to make them disappear: her country estates were far from prying eyes, her demanding nature excused the high turnover rate in her staff. She employed those with nowhere else to go, to hardworn by life to ask questions, and when complications did occur it was so easy to wriggle out of them by charming or greasing the palms of the local magistrates .

It was a true injustice that Lady Talmere died happy and of old age, moreso that her wretched spirit was not claimed by some devil and dragged to hell, instead rising some decades later as a mohrg. While most of her old self has rotten away, Talmere still possesses her love of killing and scene of digression, prefering targets that will go unnoticed. To make matters worse Talmere is now prone to reanimating her victims with the parasitic worm that makes up part of her undead corpus, simultaneously creating a new minion while getting rid of the evidence.

Adventure Hooks:

In recent weeks rumours are beginning to spread about the "Tattergaunt", a thing that wanders the night preying on lone travellers and isolated homesteads. The authorities are skeptical and have yet to post a bounty, suspecting beasts or even slavers given the lack of remains left behind. It's only when the party stumble into some of those remains on the side of the road, reanimated, worm bloated, and dragging another corpse that the picture becomes clear.

Talmere is having her zombie minions clean up after her, stashing away the undead that are about to slip out of her control in the hopes that no one will find them. Her choice of using isolated locations for these zombie stockpiles makes for a great random dungeon encounter.

The party may find themselves tasked with investigating a haunting at Talmere manor, inadvertently begun when the spirits of the lady's victims sensed that she'd risen. Unable to communicate through any means other than terrifying vision or violent poltergeist activity, the spirits long to be put to rest, and don't care how much they have to terrify or imperil the manor's mortal occupants in order to get that message across.

Challenges & Complications:

The old groundskeepeper served Lady Talmere in the final years of her life. Though he was only a boy he assisted the previous groundskeeper in all his tasks, which meant he also helped dispose of quite a number of bodies in the first few years of his employment. Riven by guilt and fear of punishment, he'll point the party in the right direction while keeping mostly to himself. However, Interrogating the old man or secretly leafing through his journals might provide the party a vital clue.

Though they want the haunting dealt with, Lady Talmere's descendants are just as prideful as any noble family and won't stand for their ancestor's honour to be besmirched no matter how true the accusations are. The party could make powerful enemies should they go blabbing about the old woman's crimes to the commons, or worse yet the local temple.

Likewise resistant to the investigation is the demon that's been lurking in the Talmere family estate for generations. It didn't corrupt the lady or drive her to violence, merely fed off the injustice of her kills and used it's power to ensure she was a little less likely to be caught. Every body burned to ash in the estate's furnace was a sacrifice on it's altar, and it seemed only reasonable to return the favour by seeding her body with the spark of unlife as she lay on her deathbed. If the party investigate well enough to disturb the demon they will soon find Lady Talmere's corpse knocking on the door of her own home with a small army of undead at her back, ready to massacre anyone inside, including her decendants, just for the thrill of it.

As her life (and subsequent unlife) suggests, Lady Talmere has a knack for escaping punishment. Any time she is slain, her mind transfers to another of her worm-animated undead, beginning a process of transforming it into a mohrg. As such she always keeps a few of her undead in reserve, scattered about the countryside or mixed in with those stockpiled zombies that've slipped her control. Once she's "settled in" to a new body she can start making more zombies provided she finds someone to kill, meaning unless the party stikes her hard and fast (ideally getting rid of her stockpiles before fighting her) she'll always be one murderspree away from cheating death again.

As she exists as an emboyment of moral and cosmic injustice, it seems only right that a weapon of true justice would be Lady Talmere's end. If they haven't already gone searching for divine aid, Midway through their troubles the party is approached by a temple scholar dedicated to the goddess Erathis, who has received a vision compelling him to help the party and lead them to a weapon wielded by a saint of the lawbearer herself. This might be as easy as swearing an oath on the saint's tomb, or as dangerous as tracking down where the stolen relic was hidden by the goddess's enemies.

(thanks @thirdtofifth for the monster stats)

Artsource

#undead #monster hunt #mid level #haunting #manor #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder #horror

[familyabolisher]

Before electing to name himself for the state to which he owed a significant portion of his family tree, Tennessee Williams toyed with penning his work under the pseudonym of Valentine Sevier. To do so would be to take the name of an ancestor and early settler of the Tennessee frontier who fought both in the American Revolutionary War and in the series of battles against indigenous populations that constituted the process by which the land was claimed and settled by Europeans and their descendants, and naming himself as such would have marked his corpus of work as a continuation of the process that the first Valentine Sevier started — that of negotiating the frontier with ultimate intent to conquer it.

The echo of such an impulse continues to reverberate even in the name he ultimately selected for himself. Williams was from Mississippi — whilst we can attribute his choice of pseudonym in no small part to the common-sense fact that ‘Mississippi Williams’ simply lacks the musicality that ‘Tennessee’ manages to carry, the flicker of the frontier and the desire to posit himself as agentive within a family mythology cannot be entirely disappeared; indeed, such a desire bleeds into his writing in forms that are often weird, and contradictory, and indulgently horrifying. The individual Williams is articulated through and within the land, and the process of individual identity-making (through his infamously heavy autofictional tendencies) is carried out in negotiation with the process of settlement; long after the disappearance of a traditional ‘frontier’ as the whole American continent came under the control of the agents of settler colonialism, the lingering presence of a space which is conquered, ordered, and sustained and a space which exists beyond the processes of ordering and sustention is the key ingredient in articulating anxieties of American sexuality. In name, Williams as the momentum behind such figures as Blanche and Laura and Maggie the Cat becomes not just a man but a body of land; moreso, he becomes the ideology baked into the naming of that body of land as ‘Tennessee.’ As such, Williams’ plays, so frequently preoccupied with the artificial yet brutally enforced social limits of desire against the plenitude of the human spirit, necessarily anchor themselves in the landed space through which those same paradigms of desire that sway their movement must be understood.

What does it mean to read Williams’ plays in such a manner? Certainly his major scholars have shied away from the suggestion that anything of serious political import might be read into his work; Williams was a deeply emotive writer who tended to mete out his appeals to social issues very lightly and sparingly and reserved the best of his grandiosity and conviction for statements about the condition of the individual human heart, and though he was a self-proclaimed ‘Socialist’ in name, he was no political firebrand and certainly no communist. Yet this question of land — lost land, settled land, land that was sacrificed to ‘epic fornications’ — pervades his work and haunts his very particular imaginary, and provides an easy point of reference by which those very same questions of desire and the human heart can be teased out and re-examined from a differently illuminating angle.

Ko-Fi / Patreon

hello, at long last, here is my piece on tennessee williams; questions of desire and literary production and how american writers attempt to uneasily negotiate the land they write on. thanks!

#mine #tennessee williams

[atinylittlepain]

Chapter Five

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: 18+ heavy angst, references to past injury related to DV

a/n: so we are in for another heavy sitting. as always, my goal is always truth, nothing gratuitous, but honest. my DMs are always open, I'd love to hear what you're thinking about this one.

............................................

And on this bed there lyeth a knight

His wound is bleeding day and night

By his bedside kneeleth a maid

And she weepeth both night and day

Corpus Christi Carol - Jeff Buckley

.........................................

Suicide watch. When he first moved out here, those were the two words he was offered about the month of January. The darkest, meanest, coldest stretch of winter. Spring isn’t even a promise yet, and any warmth, any light from the glow of the holidays has already flickered and faded out. A lonely time, a time when people start thinking about things they shouldn’t. A time to check on your neighbors when you can, when the snow lets up and parts clear enough to venture out on the roads, at least. But for now, everything is close and quiet and white, a sheer wall of wind and freeze when they trudge out in the mornings to check on the chickens and the sheep.  Always quick to shirk and shiver back inside, the promise of a near-continuous fire and coffee that stings warmth back into fingers,

Sarah came home for Christmas, another strange explaining, maneuvering and moving around the fact of the friend, right, friend, staying with Joel. A swell of pride when his daughter was gracious about it, if not a little smug, knowing smiles when Dolores wasn’t looking that Joel refused to indulge. Everyone making careful room for each other around the dining table until, by the end of the week, New Year’s flirting, it wasn’t careful anymore, just care. Definitely on purpose, Sarah saying something more like see you later rather than goodbye to Dolores. A promise and a prayer for her lonely father. Another thing he heard when he first moved out here from his daughter over the phone. Worry, I’m worried, dad, it’s lonely out there, lone and alone out there.

But he’s not alone, not lone, and certainly not lonely. Learning, the both of them. What he thought would be two steps back had been more like a stopped breath, quick to catch itself and keep humming. Because she stayed, is staying. For the winter, at least. But for now, spring is so far away, so he can allow for this to feel like a staying. Like something has changed, and it has.

When did it change, he isn’t sure. Early December, her still collecting all the tender angles of herself, that terrible thrum of bruise still healing around her throat. Middle of the night and he heard something, the creak  of floorboards jumping his heart hot and to the hilt of his chest. Bleary, both of them, he found her tucking up into the corner of the couch, something dark pulling around her eyes. He had asked her if she was alright all on one quiet exhale. She started to speak, then stopped herself, taking her bottom lip between her teeth as if to dam the words back. Maybe a breath, maybe two, and she finally told him that her room was too cold and that she would just sleep on the couch, really, no worry, really. But he knew that she wouldn’t, all those mornings in the beginning, finding her folded in on herself, awake and unblinking, on alert. Easier, maybe, for her to say that her room was too cold, to call it something else, even when they both knew what it was. 

And he knows for certain now, because now,  when night pulls a heavy pall down over the mountains, they both toe their way upstairs, a careful accounting of space when they slip into bed. His side, her side. She cries in her sleep, small, broken sounds that rouse him. She kicks in her sleep, thrashes and jerks, and he lets her. Takes every small hurt she could possibly lay upon him, and doesn’t make a sound. He hasn’t decided if it would be better to wake her when it happens. It always passes. Always, eventually, her hand finding some part of him, clutched in the thin fabric of his t-shirt, or caught around his arm. And it passes, quietly, carefully, bodies curling around each other, nothing ever said about it in the morning. By the time Sarah came to visit, a conversation about who would get the guest room didn’t even have to happen. It had already changed by then. 

But tonight it isn’t cry or combat that wakes him. It’s her, well awake and shaking his shoulder, her eyes shining in the pale slant of moonlight. He murmurs, quiet, what, what is it?  Slow to sit up and fumble with the lamp on his nightstand, finally awake enough to fully see her, kneeling in a rumpled nest of sheets on her side of the bed, her hands dropping in her lap in an anxious twist.

“I have a feeling.” It takes his mind a moment to configure those words into any meaning. A feeling, right. She’s been anxious all week, lingering in the barn with Avril and Lucy, had even called the vet of her own accord, asking if he was sure that it would be another few weeks until it was time. He was sure, but Dolores wasn’t.

“Okay.” No questioning it, he’s already unfolding himself from bed and stumbling around the room to get enough clothes on to keep him warm when they trudge out to the barn. She quietly follows suit. 

Snow has a way of turning everything silent. When it’s this cold, the flakes coming down are more like fluff, a constant blink to clear them from his eyes as their boots sink and slurry into the thick muffle of it. Dolores is undeterred by any of it, a few paces ahead of him, already slipping through the barn door before he can help her open it. 

Of course, she was right, somehow. He hears it before he sees it. The doleful bleating of a very ancient pain, an understood pain. The ewe is laying on her side, lifting her head with a despondent huff from time to time, lips curling back to loosen another moan. As if they know, the rest of the flock huddles away from the corner she has nestled down in, nervous chatterings and thumps of hooves in the dim light of the barn. 

There’s no hesitation in how she kneels down alongside the animal, palm to stomach, a smooth circle through her thickening wool. Joel knows that the ewe will do this all on her own, that, unless something goes wrong, they could have stayed in bed and waited until the morning to greet whoever is coming without the viscera of this moment. But he doesn’t say a thing, hangs back with the rest of the herd and lets her murmur quiet comforts to Lucy. 

It isn’t much longer before there is a body, slick and slight, tucked behind its mother. It is perfect, curled on its side, cream coat, and so impossibly small. It is not moving, and Joel knows that life must move, quickly, and as soon as possible. But it does not move, does not cry, does not unfold its thin legs. 

Something that Joel had failed to tell Dolores. An intentional failure. Something that the vet had told him. This was Lucy’s first time lambing, only one, they had discovered through the thick thrum of an ultrasound. A warning, a preparing, that the first is always uncertain, always a question mark. That afternoon, when he picked Dolores up from work and she asked him what the vet said, perfect hope rounding her cheeks, how could he do anything other than lie to her? And now, oh, how he regrets that. His fault, her hope, his fault. 

She shuffles over on her knees to the quiet, unbeating body, and she knows immediately. He can see the quick jolt of knowing pass through her, a tensing, a turning inward. 

“I–” That is all she manages to get out, her hand doing something that looks like reaching or grasping, suspended somewhere in the air between herself and the lamb. And Joel is going to have to lie to her again. A gruesome thing, what must be done when something like this happens. A body cannot just be a body, and it certainly cannot be treated like one. It had made him feel sick when the vet first told him what must be done to something small and unmoving to protect the rest of the flock.

“We need to call the vet, he’ll come make sure Lucy’s okay and take the body–”

“What?”  It startles him, the loudest she’s ever spoken to him, a clipped bark of a question, her head jerking around to look at him with narrowed eyes. Made even more striking by the strange scar of pain that rasps in her voice now. He has to swallow hard before he answers.

“The vet, he’ll take the–”

“No, he’s not taking anything.” She sets her jaw in a firm line when she finishes speaking, and Joel still finds himself stunned by this steeled resolve of hers, trying to stay gentle, careful with what he says.

“Dove, it’s not safe to leave it in here with the rest of the flock.”

“I’m not going to leave it in here, Joel. I’m going to bury it.” She glances back at the lamb, its mother still laying in a slump of exhaustion, nearly as unmoving as it is, save for the soft rise and fall of breath. And Dolores is already getting up before he can say anything else, shrugging out of her coat and laying it out in the hay, careful hands cupping around the fact of the lamb’s body, his protests die in his throat as he watches how gently she wraps it in the fabric, some sort of makeshift funeral shroud. She cradles the bundle in one arm, like a gift, like a child, and she spares no attention to Joel as she walks past him, plucking a shovel from the wall of the barn before shouldering her way back out into the night. All he can do to dumbly follow after her.

It’s insane, and frankly, it’s stupid. A good couple inches of snow on the ground, the frozen solid ground. Dark for miles save for the cast of light from the front porch of the house. Yet Dolores moves with a schooled purpose, like she knows just the spot, like there is a place for something like this, out behind the house. 

Well below freezing, and she’s no longer wearing a coat, but there is no hesitation to her movements, how carefully she sets the small bundle down in the snow, and how decisively she drives the shovel down through the frozen layers, the clean slice of sound when she sinks it into the dirt. There will be no arguing with something like this. She is ready, hackles raised when he says her name, fierce eyes and the hard jut of her chin, all slanted in the shadows of the dim light bleeding out from the house. But he is not looking to stop her, not looking for a fight, only to offer her his jacket. 

“I’ll go get the other shovel.” And so he does. And so they dig. And so it is a tedious, terrible task. Snot freezes to his face, tears too. His whole body moves past the shake of it, a resignation to the cold, muscles locking up close and tight. Neither of them say a thing, the hard pant of their breath getting swallowed up by the snow. 

Eventually, there is a hole in the ground that is big enough for the lamb. She does that thing again, that near-painful thing to watch, how she cradles the body close to her chest, like a mother, like she knows exactly what to do in a situation where nothing could possibly be a right answer. And a small part of him wonders if the way she moves comes from something in her past. Care that once was, and no longer is. 

By the time the earth has been turned over fresh and lifted where they buried the lamb, the sun is sending the first stream of milky light down the face of the mountain. Both of them too cold to do much more than prop the shovels against the side of the house and crawl inside, instant relief in the fast flood of heat. Dolores wordlessly shuffles into the bathroom downstairs, the shower starting to run as Joel calls the vet. He’s too tired, and too cold, to give the vet much more of an explanation than that the lamb has been taken care of, and that Lucy needs checked out. He hangs up before any questions can be asked. 

Everything smarts and stings under the heat of a shower, and when he gets out, skin pink and singing with it, he can see through the crack of his bathroom door that she has gotten back into bed, turned away from him on her side, sheets pulled up tight, one hand clutching at them to keep them up over her shoulder. And it seems like the best idea, really, to try to put a few unconscious hours between them and what just happened, so he pulls on a clean t-shirt and boxers, and joins her. He turns on his side, hands kept close to his body, the slightest bend in his knees so that they won’t brush against hers. Her eyes are open, palm tucked under her cheek, unwavering gaze that he gives back to her.

“Are you okay?” 

“I think it was a girl.” When she speaks as quietly as she does now, everything starts to rasp a little, and he has to wonder if it isn’t painful, the sound of struggle present and clear. 

“I’m sorry, Dovey.” Because it is certainly painful for him, a thick flood of tears gripped in his throat. Something nearly loosens in his chest when she lays the gentlest palm on his cheek, her thumb stroking just beneath his eye, like she can feel the salt collecting there, soothing it away. 

“I am too.” He could tell her that she has nothing to be sorry for, but he knows that isn’t what she means. Sorry for the situation, sorry for what had to be done. His sorry, something else. Sorry that protection seems to always turn into something sour. Sorry that he can’t seem to get it right for her. They curl their sorry around each other. For the first time like this, conscious closeness. He lets her lead, shifting closer only when her fingers curl in the front of his t-shirt, draping a careful arm around her waist, only letting it rest there when the quick tensing of her body smoothes out. 

How long does it take? For them to fit all the pieces of themselves together. A slow process, a small process, muscle shifting and shaping around muscle until her nose is pressed in the center of his chest, and his palms have spanned the slope of her spine. 

Sleep, he finds, comes easily like this.

…

The vet comes later in the day, a merciful break in the snow. Lucy is fine, he says,  just an unlucky first season. Dolores doesn’t speak to the man, but keeps close, arms crossed over her chest and mouth screwed to the side. 

There is just enough daylight left for them to go into town after the vet leaves, groceries and the library, and Joel using whatever will he has left to not ask  the question that has been chewing at the edges of his mind since last night. No good way to ask it, no right way, wanting to know where she learned to care like that, pretty certain that he already does. 

Until unfortunately, after dinner, on the couch, the words find their awkward way out of his mouth. A question that’s more like observation. She sighs. 

And he learns that hers is a phantom care. Something that could have been, but wasn’t. Something that she didn’t let get far enough for it to become another thing shackling her to husband. How often small things, cared-for things, become pawns, become lock and key and chain. How quickly love can get used against us. No, she did not let that happen. 

“Did he know?”

“He knew nothing.”  They sit on the couch side by side, close enough that her shoulder brushes against his with every small shift she makes. So when he asks her how she managed that, she doesn’t look at him when she answers, eyes turned down to her hands in her lap.

“I caught it early, so it was simple.” He nearly laughs, because what else could he do with the sick feeling her words swirl in his stomach? Nothing about this is simple, no matter how hard she tries to convince him that it is, tries to convince herself that it is. What gets saved, and what must be lost. 

“Dove.” Quiet and small, she makes an indignant noise in the back of her throat at the way he says it.

“Don’t, Joel. I don’t regret what I did.”

“I didn’t say that you should.”

“Well, I don’t.” Anger, that’s what this is. What it has been since last night. He hasn’t seen her angry, not before this. Like she doesn’t quite know what to do with it, fists bunched up, knuckles tightening over and over again, on the brink of tears. 

He can, he thinks that he knows he can, that she will not recoil if he does. Though he still moves slowly, plenty of space and time for her to give him no. But she doesn’t, lets him smooth out the tight furl of one of her hands with his. Fingertip to fingertip, every line in his palm pressed to hers. 

There is nothing that he could say. And there is no making this right, any of it. But he can hold it for her, right here, in his palm. 

She has managed to sustain this anger for long enough that he can see the fatigue starting to slip in around the edges of it. The pained pinch between her brow, and the way she keeps letting out little huffs that are starting to sound more like sighs. He sits with her, watches and waits for it to turn from simmer to slump. And when it does, he is ready to tuck her into his side, and she is ready to allow it. 

“I don’t like that vet.” Said with a weak breath of a laugh, he can feel the small jump of it in her ribs pressed into the side of his.

“He’s just doing his job.”

“I know, I still don’t like him.”

“Then I don’t like him either.” He thinks he can see a smile trying not to curl in the corner of her mouth. Like bird or butterfly, some rare and winged miracle in her palm settling on his thigh, soothing a circle into the fabric of his jeans. Her care, and how she shows it. 

…

It’s another week before Avril gives birth. Two perfect girls that come in the middle of the day. They meet them in the evening, just home from work, Dolores always heading to the barn first before anything else, still in her uniform. The rest of the herd steps aside, something dignified in how they part around her to let her into the barn, clear now who they really answer to these days. For every martyr there is mercy, and it comes in the sight of two small, uncertain bodies, stumbling over each other, still tinged pink around their young angles, already nursing sure and strong  from their mother. 

He knows that these lambs can be sold for slaughter. Small, unknowing bodies are worth so much, after all. But he has never had the stomach to do it, something that will soon be a problem with how the flock continues to grow year after year. Maybe he will just build a bigger barn when the time comes for it.

“Will you name them?” She’s pleased with his question, he can tell, a smile over her shoulder for him. She names the one with a blot of black on her nose Punch, and the one with ears pink as shells Judy. A peculiar harkening to those old, slapstick puppet shows, though maybe it’s fitting with the way the lambs shove and stutter into each other, still learning grace. 

Dolores maintains a distance of respect, her arms clasped around her middle, intent to watch new mother and daughters figuring each other out for the first time. Not wanting to disturb, Joel murmurs something about starting dinner, only a faint nod from her as he steps out of the barn. 

He has gotten better in the kitchen these days, Dolores showing him how, to the point that dinner is almost ready by the time she comes inside. Her cheeks are flushed down by frost and something else, something that’s rounding them up until her eyes crinkle. Warmth floods in his chest at the sight. 

“I could watch them all night, but I don’t think Avril would appreciate that.” 

“She’s always tended toward the fiercer side, but I reckon she wouldn’t mind your company.” Because he certainly wouldn’t, not ever. Never minding, not with her. 

When they sit down to dinner, it’s intentional, the way he keeps his chair tucked in a little closer so that his knees brush against hers under the table. If she notices, if it bothers her, she doesn’t show it, cheek propped in palm, all the ways this is different now. Puts her elbows on the table now. Takes a bite before he does now. Small, contented sounds in the back of her throat now, a swell of pride that he did okay for her. 

… 

“I need to buy a new coat.” 

“Alright, then you and I are gonna have that talk.” That talk, the one he promised to Patty two months ago. He’s done a good job of avoiding her, blame it on the weather, blame it on the holidays, on business that no one in this town can really lay claim to. But he had to come in, because he needs a new coat, happy to give his old one to Dolores, who seemed glad enough to be wearing it that he wouldn’t imagine ever asking for it back. Or maybe he’s the one glad enough that she’s wearing it. Either way, there was no more avoiding Patty, a new coat too needed. 

Easy enough to find something that fits, something warm enough, it’s the rest that he’s worried about. Maybe not worried, but resigned. Because with Patty, there is never anything except for the truth. 

It all comes out slowly, a bit awkward. After all, Joel has been telling many lies lately. But he tells it all to her, sitting in the backroom of the shop, surrounded by the sweet, soft smell of old clothes. And when he finishes speaking, Patty sits back, silent for a moment, nodding, the lines around her mouth deepening in a tight purse.

“And that’s all of it?” 

“Yes.” 

“And he’s not coming back?”

“No.”

“Who else knows?”

“No one, just you.” 

“Jesus, Joel.” Like a scolded child, the fact of the mess he has made finally faced by someone else. And it is a mess, he knows that. That doesn’t make him want it any less. 

“Does she plan on staying?” A question he wasn’t prepared for, because he has been battering it away to the edges of his mind, not letting it seep in. A good question, one he cannot answer. Patty sighs when he says nothing in reply. 

“Is she okay?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.” Yes, he can answer that with perfect confidence. Even with everything that isn’t right, that hasn’t been right, he knows that Dolores is okay. That, at the very least, something he can be sure of, make sure of.

“Well, okay then.” It is left at that. Because, somehow, Patty understands. And he’s pretty sure that a handy majority of the people in town would understand too, not that he is eager to test that theory. It takes something happening to move to a town like this. It takes something happening to choose a town like this. It takes something happening to get out, and not look back. 

…

Something has changed again. Still the shared, quiet ascent upstairs at night. Except now, there is no his side, and there is no her side. They are still slow about it, shy about it, but eventually, every night, their bodies relearn the boundaries of one another, seeking out the softest parts, the places that will give to a gentle palm or a tired cheek. Sometimes, she still cries, the small shake of it beneath his hands, over his ribs. But there’s no more thrashing, no more dormant violence. Maybe she just needed something to hold onto. 

..................................

taglist: @cassiopeia @eleganthottubfun @anoverwhelmingdin @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @casa-boiardi @suzmagine @syakhairi @spookyxsam @northernbluess @hier--soir @joelsgreys @wannab-urs @tieronecrush @trulybetty @softlyspector @noisynightmarepoetry @csarab615 @ratoonstown @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @lizzie-cakes @beskarandblasters @narxisus

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller fics

[alteredsilicone]

My Feelings for You

June 27, 1999.

The pastry from the baker was a little bit stale, but the strawberry filling was just the right amount of sweet, if a little sticky. Virgo ate it absentmindedly. Albrecht had suggested they buy the sweet pastry. She expected him to be a meat pie kind of guy, but here they sat, eating a sweet snack. A little bit of respite after Midsummer madness. Perhaps, sometimes, even Albrecht Entrati allowed himself to indulge in simple joys.

A curious thought wandered into Virgo's mind.

"What kind of snack does Loid like?"

Silence. Albrecht chewed his pastry and looked inside it, as if the answer lied somewhere in the strawberry jam.

"We would usually eat the same thing. I ate what he liked."

"Or did he pick out something that you liked and made himself like it too?"

Silence. Albrecht stopped eating, a third of a pastry still in his hand. Virgo finished hers hastily, suddenly she felt like they would be moving on any second.

Silence hung over them. Albrecht did not move.

"You don't know." Virgo spoke up. It was as simple as that.

No answer.

Cold. Virgo felt a cold knot in her stomach, then she felt bile rising up to her throat. She was angry, disgusted even. What a sorry excuse for a man. Selfish. Doesn't even know the simplest things. Does he even care? Did he ever care?

Loid. Loid, however. He was good and soft and kind.

Virgo tensed up. Those aren't her thoughts. She jumped up from the bench and walked a few good meters away from Albrecht, until the bile in her throat seeped back into her stomach. She swung her arms, stretched her legs, as if she had suddenly remembered there was a marathon due in a few days and she needed to prepare.

Albrecht stood up from the bench as well. The remains of the pastry were thrown in a waste bin by the bench.

"Tenno. We should go."

---

Virgo watched as Loid tapped at the terminal, he was logging her most recent trip to 1999. It was another doomed timeline, but this time they managed to arrive almost on time.

Loid worked tirelessly and diligently, no matter what tidings Virgo brought back. She knew how hard it was for him to watch the same failed attempts over and over again. She did not dare bring up the ritual after the first failure. When there was no other way, she felt the sorrow in his soul as they talked of Albrecht and the Indifference. It tore at Virgo.

Loid was good and soft and kind.

She felt safe in his presence, calm. It was strange. Virgo did like Loid, despite the rocky beginning of their acquaintance. She found a way to endear herself to him, find common ground. He seemed to find some respite in having someone who also remembered the long lost past of the Orokin Empire. Virgo did her best to entertain him, to take off his mind from the Kalymos Sequence, if only for a moment.

This sense of safety, however, was a new sensation.

My strength, my support, my sanctuary.

Those aren't her thoughts.

Talking to Albrecht was infuriating and difficult, getting anything out of him was like pulling a rotten tooth out of a lion's maw, armed with nothing but a pair of pliers. If Albrecht had been a Corpus aristocrat, Virgo would have thrown in the towel long ago - this much effort for this little payback would not have been worth the diplomatic headache. She had dealt with all sorts of problem clients, but Albrecht was like every flavor of nightmare rolled into one human being. Yet now, she had somehow gotten something out of him. Something priceless, that she would have never in her wildest dreams hoped of getting.

His love. The softness she felt, standing at Loid's side as he was fussing over mission logs, that was an echo of Albrecht she had stolen, unknowingly.

She felt a little embarrassed, perverse even. It's as if she snuck up on their bedroom door and peeked through the keyhole, into the scenes of their most intimate moments. Love. Love was something that made Virgo dizzy and mad, it was unlike any feeling she picked up from other people.

If only she could show that love to Loid, to expose his mind to Albrecht's. Connect them.

Virgo walked away and sat down. No. That was not for her to decide. She was feeling greedy and selfish, perhaps that too, she stole from Albrecht. She needed to cleanse her mind and clear her head.

"Loid?"

"Yes, Virgo?"

"What kind of snack do you like?"

#viriverse #wf 1999 au #my writing #the cringe floodgates have opened #viri about to steal all of albrechts mental problems #im sure that will end well

[sorenblr]

thoughts on Akihiko Yoshida? hes done several greatest game of all time contenders but I still don't know how 2 feel about him tbh

I would rank him highly, although I do think his best work belongs to a bygone era. I've always had a lot of affection for Yoshida as the Square-affiliated artist most likely to describe form with profuse hatching. The original Tactics Ogre cover is one of my favorite pieces of game art:

I think he produced his most compelling work around this period, in collaboration with Hiroshi Minagawa, and more generally prior to the onset of HD development. I don't know how deeply involved he was with the process (Minagawa is credited as supervisor in both cases), but between Vagrant Story and Final Fantasy XII, his designs have been treated to the most compelling applications of texture mapping in the medium.

I also love the lush storybook style he adopted for Four Heroes of Light, and I wish that quality had carried more cleanly into Bravely Default.

His contributions to FFXIV are obviously accomplished but they don't really stand out in my mind due to their proximity to so many other artists on that project working in a style that roughly approximates his own. I think that's something that has muddled my impression of his work over the past decade, the glut of designers seemingly trained in his style, or the new prominence of those who simply came up in the industry working in a comparable idiom, usually in the Ivalice games. The deliberately abstracted faces contrasted with baroque or luxuriously rendered dress, the almost exclusive use of earth tones etc. It's evident everywhere from certain of Kazuya Takahashi's key art in FFXVI to Naoki Ikushima's entire corpus of Yoshida-lite emulations, even Hideo Minaba's work on Granblue Fantasy.

At one point this was a perfect triangular complement to the sectors defined by Amano and Nomura, but as we recede further and further from any remaining stylistic imprint of the former and all the appealing extravagance is bled from the latter, a sort of repetitious sameness sets in. It's no fault of Yoshida's, and I think his own work still consistently outshines his "imitators", but it probably accounts for my cooler feelings of late.

As an aside, the guy has definitely indulged his predilections to a greater degree as time goes on. He's settled on an anatomical template for his female characters that I find vaguely disquieting, as evinced in this Tomb Raider illustration. That one has especially chitinous proportions, but most of it is basically just, like... hippy zettai ryoiki shit. A fetish so mild that it's one step removed from being really 'into' big titties. Guys with active accounts across multiple booru image boards will be cranking their shit to 2B for long and silent aeons, when even the memory of man is only a shadow over the wine-dark sea.

I would still like another game where he's allowed a fuller reign over design responsibilities. Like Nomura, he's reached a position of seniority that precludes him from designing anything beyond a few core characters and some key art, leaving the heft of the work to younger artists or middle-talents like Roberto Ferrari. Hopefully he'll be on tap for something other than Nier Automota phone games or FFXIV package illustrations or whatever the fuck Little Noah: Scion of Paradise is supposed to be. Damn, videogames are rough! This shit is not cooking!

#ask #akihiko yoshida #final fantasy #tactics ogre #vagrant story #nier automata #hiroshi minagawa #naoki ikushima #hideo minaba

[chicago-geniza]

Van Helsing can commute back and forth between London and Amsterdam within a few hours, in the age of steam and sail. Also he's both Dutch and Roman Catholic (believes in corpus christi etc., got an indulgence from Rome to use the host as ammunition against the undead) because the Reformation happened differently in the Dracula Extended Universe

#raya reads dracula

[derelicthorror]

@a-tenno-called-prin digital extremes does this really cool thing where they have ideas and INDULGE them and i am never going to get over how it felt to get humanframes confirmed real like (bc of course warframes are humans orokin are humans corpus grineer etc it is all people! but humanframe!)

but also i so hope that loid and necraloid come to terms with each other - the former especially. all jokes aside i think that characterwise guy!loid is in a place where seeing necraloid just kind of lands as a gut-punch for a lot of reasons, and he reacts to things that hurt him by getting cold.

you have to warm him up to his little robot twin like he's a skittish horse and you're desensitizing him with burlap

#i talk like im in any way a loidwhisperer but i'm not sdkfjsd #its very much just the impression i get from gijinka loid yk? guy who does not cope well and feels a LOT #and boy does that suck sometimes when you gotta come to terms with the sorts of things he does #also re: gijinka loid WHAT ELSE AM I TO CALL HIM DFKDSJ #whispers in the walls spoilers #gijinka loid #loid

[once-was-muses]

How open are the muses to smut without a preexisting romance?

Antonio da Vinci: manwhore supreme, ready to go 80% of the time. And 15 of that missing 20%? He'll agree anyways. Especially if booze is or already was involved. Hello, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

The Artist: Carmina is a complicated case. Overall, her answer is not even remotely- unless they were friends first. She has to have some level of trust with another before even considering sex.

The Blight: unsurprisingly, the Fog's biggest recluse is not down for casual sex. Barely even has interest in sex to begin with- partly because he's so absorbed by his work and the thralls of the serum, but also because he refuses to realize that he's attracted to men rather than women.

Bookworm: he'll need some flattery and flirting first, but Winnie is relatively open to hookups. He's hired more than a couple prostitutes before- The only difference is a financial transaction. Maybe.

Candyman: highly unlikely. Daniel is an extremely romantic individual; there will be wooing and all that beforehand (and during if he has it his way.)

Claudette Morel: she's much too shy to pursue anything like that- any girl that's interested would have to approach her first, and even then there's no guarantee Claudette won't panic and bail.

The Doctor: manwhore supreme, spooky edition. Sex is one of his biggest vices, one which he is all too willing to indulge in with almost anyone.

The Dredge: depends on what it has to gain from the exchange. Not a hard no, but it will not be a healthy experience for either of them.

Goswin: very shy about the whole intimacy thing. Like Dan, xe thinks it would be demeaning for both involved to skip straight to knocking boots, more inclined to take things slow with proper courting.

Habeas Corpus: it has absolutely zero qualms about anonymous or casual hook ups, sex being one of their biggest and most common vices.

The Ichor: despite the ego Athanasios puts forth, they will be extremely suspect of any actual desire being present if proposition. They'll likely consent anyways, but be second guessing the genuineness of the whole thing the entire time.

March Harriet: she'd be flattered, really, but would probably decline (with some flustered stittering and plenty of blushing.) Harrie's a hopeless romantic through and through- she'd much rather try a date or two first, see where things go.

Rorschach: you're kidding, right? He's listed as "demi-homosexual" for a reason. It would take many, many years of trust before one could even begin trying to convince him to take his pants off without losing blood.

Saint Walker: bashful and shy about the topic by nature, but exceedingly sex positive. Casual hookups were far from taboo on Astonia. Whoever's interested will have to broach the topic first, though.

Salaak: also a big ol virgin, but way more uptight- and coming from a background where sex=marriage, thus there being a lot of anxiety for him. It would take A While before Sal would be open to sex with an established partner, so he's extremely unlikely to respond well to any advances from someone he's not involved with.

Scarecrow: he borders on demiromantic, needing a significant amount of trust before romance is an option, but he's not a stranger to picking someone up when the need strikes him. Granted he's not especially likely to have sex with someone in general because of his repression, prone to bottling any urges up for as long as he can when there's not someone to semi-regularly coax him into letting go.

The Spirit: Rin is Extremely Asexual- sex neutral, but still ace. The only appeal sex has to her is intimacy, and she only desires that from a romantic partner.

Thoth: surprisingly picky and flighty despite his reputation, very much reliant on his mood and the events leading up to any proposition. He's also unlikely to bring it up himself unless he's particularly frustrated. Just be warned; while he doesn't have godlike strength, he does have a ridiculously high libido.

The Wraith: once upon a time, Philip was a little looser with his life, more exploratory and outgoing. Now, he's extremely guarded and suspicious of others, unwilling to let anyone get too close- but, he still has needs in this nonhuman form, and has given into desperation on a rare few occasions. It's certainly improbable, but not impossible.

#Offered Insight : headcanons #Headliners : all muses #all muse hcs reposts #Such is Predestined : queue tag #nsfvv

[who-is-muses]

How open are the muses to smut without a preexisting romance?

Antonio da Vinci: manwhore supreme, ready to go 80% of the time. And 15 of that missing 20%? He'll agree anyways. Especially if booze is or already was involved. Hello, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

The Artist: Carmina is a complicated case. Overall, her answer is not even remotely- unless they were friends first. She has to have some level of trust with another before even considering sex.

The Blight: unsurprisingly, the Fog's biggest recluse is not down for casual sex. Barely even has interest in sex to begin with- partly because he's so absorbed by his work and the thralls of the serum, but also because he refuses to realize that he's attracted to men rather than women.

Bookworm: he'll need some flattery and flirting first, but Winnie is relatively open to hookups. He's hired more than a couple prostitutes before- The only difference is a financial transaction. Maybe.

Candyman: highly unlikely. Daniel is an extremely romantic individual; there will be wooing and all that beforehand (and during if he has it his way.)

Catwoman: she has no issue with casual sex- but isn't nearly as "easy" as some claim, in fact rather picky about her choices for all genders.

Claudette Morel: she's much too shy to pursue anything like that- any girl that's interested would have to approach her first, and even then there's no guarantee Claudette won't panic and bail.

The Doctor: manwhore supreme, spooky edition. Sex is one of his biggest vices, one which he is all too willing to indulge in with almost anyone.

The Dredge: depends on what it has to gain from the exchange. Not a hard no, but it will not be a healthy experience for either of them.

Goswin: very shy about the whole intimacy thing. Like Dan, xe thinks it would be demeaning for both involved to skip straight to knocking boots, more inclined to take things slow with proper courting.

Habeas Corpus: it has absolutely zero qualms about anonymous or casual hook ups, sex being one of their biggest and most common vices.

The Ichor: despite the ego Athanasios puts forth, they will be extremely suspect of any actual desire being present if proposition. They'll likely consent anyways, but be second guessing the genuineness of the whole thing the entire time.

March Harriet: she'd be flattered, really, but would probably decline (with some flustered stittering and plenty of blushing.) Harrie's a hopeless romantic through and through- she'd much rather try a date or two first, see where things go.

Rorschach: you're kidding, right? He's listed as "demi-homosexual" for a reason. It would take many, many years of trust before one could even begin trying to convince him to take his pants off without losing blood.

Saint Walker: bashful and shy about the topic by nature, but exceedingly sex positive. Casual hookups were far from taboo on Astonia. Whoever's interested will have to broach the topic first, though.

Salaak: also a big ol virgin, but way more uptight- and coming from a background where sex=marriage, thus there being a lot of anxiety for him. It would take A While before Sal would be open to sex with an established partner, so he's extremely unlikely to respond well to any advances from someone he's not involved with.

Scarecrow: he borders on demiromantic, needing a significant amount of trust before romance is an option, but he's not a stranger to picking someone up when the need strikes him. Granted he's not especially likely to have sex with someone in general because of his repression, prone to bottling any urges up for as long as he can when there's not someone to semi-regularly coax him into letting go.

The Spirit: Rin is Extremely Asexual- sex neutral, but still ace. The only appeal sex has to her is intimacy, and she only desires that from a romantic partner.

Thoth: surprisingly picky and flighty despite his reputation, very much reliant on his mood and the events leading up to any proposition. He's also unlikely to bring it up himself unless he's particularly frustrated. Just be warned; while he doesn't have godlike strength, he does have a ridiculously high libido.

Two-Face: Harvey isn't overly keen on the idea, but Harv doesn't crave romance nearly as much as his headmate and thus is far more interested in something casual. It ultimately depends, like most things with them, who has the most sway over the other that night.

The Wraith: once upon a time, Philip was a little looser with his life, more exploratory and outgoing. Now, he's extremely guarded and suspicious of others, unwilling to let anyone get too close- but, he still has needs in this nonhuman form, and has given into desperation on a rare few occasions. It's certainly improbable, but not impossible.

#Offered Insight : headcanons #Headliners : all muses #nsfvv

[thecorpuscorpse]

Greetings!

About the author: Val- 24 he/they Latiné transmasc queer who is a bit too dramatic for his own good.

While works were once posted on my side account, vacancy-virtues, I have decided to relocate my pieces to a more writing-centric area. Additionally, my ao3 will also be available for lengthier pieces with a better filter system (TheCorpusCorpse).

The Corpus Indulgence Series:

Completed works are tagged as #Corpus Indulgence

A project started in attempts to spark motivation to write, which has now turned into the most delightful endeavor I've pursued. Characters are depicted as gender-neutral, unless requested otherwise, to allow for more resonance with readers.

Master List of Works and WIPs:

#1- "A Life for a Life"

#1.5- "To Hell With Peace

#1.75-"Bringer of Happy Endings"

#2- "Nothing but Static"

#3- "A Bow of Rough Twine"

#4- "Killing Without Consequence"

#4.5- In Progress

#5- "A Change of Pace"

#6- "An Anonymous Source"

#7-In Progress

#8-In Progress

Rules about asks:

-I do not write topics of pedophilia, non-con, bigotry, or incest. Heavy topics will be indicated within the notes prior to the story.

-I am open to feedback! It's great to share tips to better writing styles and flow but if you're coming at me to just be a dick, I am very liberal with the block button.

-I work two jobs, on top of trying to find my own time for whimsy and tomfoolery. If you have sent in an ask, please be patient as I get through them.

The more you look, the more there is.

-Val

Last Updated: April 24th, 2024

#Corpus Indulgence #writing #creative writing #hero x villain #villain x hero #writeblr

[xx-vergil-xx]

tell me about holy teeth dog god please :)

thank you for this opening my friend <3 rant: unlocked

a fic that has developed from a discord drabble I wrote a bit ago, fueled by my current progress through nightmare country, festering unabashedly in my mind, notes app, and one train wreck of a google doc.  originally it was titled communion, but I recently swapped to sanctus dentes/canem dei (shitty vernacular latin for holy teeth/dog of god) because it’s expanding in premise a bit

effectively, it’s about the corinthian post-rebuild, post-kindly ones –– he didn’t know morpheus long enough to love or hate him, but daniel –– ethereal, gentle, distant daniel –– is a perfect font of potential approval for a newly-resurrected nightmare to fixate on.  I am so curious about him, carrying disjointed sense-memories of his first self, being told from the moment of his creation that he was not to make the same mistakes (one of his first spoken lines is “I won’t disappoint you” which.  well now that’s loaded isn’t it.) and yet being granted the same nature as his first self.  being told he was wrong, he was wrong in construction and design, and still feeling the same violent hungers.  it’s also heavily inspired by jean-luc nancy’s long essay corpus, which I'm reading slowly right now, which is all about bodies, the way that we do and do not occupy them, the way that the body is at once the truest extension of ourselves and some strange alien thing, exaltation of the flesh, etc etc  

what it really is, right now, is a series of disconnected bits (the body horror bit I wrote first, a segment of him recalling his recreation and a broken memory of the cereal convention where he remembers only the feeling of having disciples, a little moment between he and daniel that is.  odd.) and I think it’ll probably shape up as vignettes of the new corinthian convincing himself he is a saint of the dreaming (like gault wishing to be a dream, only the corinthian is angling more for exaltation –– maybe he doesn't realize these are the same urges his first self had, or he convinces himself these ones are righteous and true –– who’s to say!).  I wanna crack open his suave southern boy persona and poke at all the bits of unending starvation and self-denial mixed with an indulgent nature, the strange relation he must have to a creator that died and was reborn, as he died and was reborn (I well and truly believe the corinthian sees himself, deep down, as being built in dream’s image, but that’s another rant).  

so anyway what if the corinthian’s relation to dream-daniel was a violent saint desperate to be exalted? directed to a crusade?  what if he thinks his brutality is love?  I just love the corinthian’s opportunity to examine humanity through the lens of the body and its destruction and I also think its incredibly fucked up to be told that you have been made with a certain nature that you must resist always in order to be saved (yeah okay this is definitely chock full of religious parallels but so bet it)

thanks for indulging me, no clue when it’ll be done enough to post anywhere, but it’s a steady work in progress <3

#the sandman #the corinthian #dream of the endless #daniel hall #work in progress #im a corinthian girl first and a person second #holy hell do I love how charged his character is #thanks for giving me the opening to ramble on my friend <3 #vergil says hello #anyways back to the grind actually writing a hounds corinthian scene rn my boy is in all things dear to me <3

[veganandvegetarianlife]

Natural Remedies for Male Impotence

"You are old Father William", the young man said, "And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head - Do you think that at your age it is right?"

According to this quote from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, Father William was obviously a very vigorous man for his age.

If I knew his secret and published a book about it, no doubt I would make a fortune.

There probably isn't a man on the planet that doesn't know what Viagra is. It's up there with Nike, Coca-Cola, Pepsi and Microsoft as one of the world's most instantly recognizable brands.

The anti-impotence drugs first became available in 1998 and since then has helped more than 16 million men around the world, who suffer from varying degrees of erectile dysfunction (ED) or impotence, to enjoy a healthy and satisfying sex life.

Erectile dysfunction or impotence is what we call the inability of the body to achieve and maintain an erection. What can be a distressing condition is surprisingly common among men of all ages at some time in their lives. If this sounds like something that happens to you, the first thing you must do is to take comfort in is the fact that you are not alone. Impotence is more common than you think.

Most men will have a problem getting an erection at some time in their lives. Studies in the United States show that roughly half of all men between the ages of 40 and 70 experiences ED to a greater or lesser degree. That's nearly 30 million men in America alone.

Worldwide, the figure could be hundreds of millions. Whilst for some it is just an occasional inconvenience, for others the problem can be more persistent. Under normal circumstances, when a man becomes sexually aroused or 'gets turned on', a substance called nitric oxide (NO) is released in an area of the penis called the corpus cavernosum .

NO in turn activates an enzyme called guanylate cyclase that itself triggers levels of guanosine monophosphate to increase. This allows the muscles in the corpus cavernosum to relax and allow blood to flow into the penis.

As the arteries in the penis expand and harden, the veins that normally carry blood away from the area become compressed, restricting the blood flow out of the shaft. With more blood flowing in and less flowing out, the penis enlarges, resulting in an erection.

When the man has finished having sex, the blood flows back into the body and the penis once again becomes limp. However, certain physical or psychological factors can interfere with this natural process and, for whatever reason, men at any time of their lives can find it hard to gain and/or maintain a firm erection.

This in turn can have a knock on effect psychologically, as the man gets dispirited or depressed at his inability to perform, which can further exacerbates the problem.

The good news is that ED can be treated and is not something you have to learn to live with.

There are many herbal products on the market that have been proven over the years to both stimulate sexual desire and/or improve your ability to get an erection.

Let's take a look at some of the more common causes of impotence and some possible remedies that could treat the various conditions that can lead to impotence. Very often it's another medical condition, possibly one you don't even know you have, that is causing ED. If you can identify the cause, this condition can be successfully treated, so allowing normal sexual function to return of its own accord.

Diabetes

We all like to indulge in the odd sweet treat every now and again and when you do, you can justify your indulgence by knowing that your body requires sugar, in the form of glucose, as a vital form of energy. When you eat that candy, your blood sugar level goes up and the hormone insulin is excreted by the pancreas to control the level of sugar in your blood.

If the pancreas fails to excrete enough insulin to control your blood sugar level, health problems can begin to occur, and this is known as Diabetes.

There are two types of diabetes. Type One is treated with regular injections of insulin, whilst Type Two sufferers can usually control their insulin levels through a carefully controlled diet.

There is no known conventional cure for this condition, and it is one of the more common causes of ED, but there are things you can do with your diet to help alleviate the effect diabetes has on your sex life.

The following advice, whilst vital for diagnosed diabetics, is also relevant to anyone wishing to improve their health because both conventional doctors and followers of complimentary medicine agree that these dietary changes can contribute to overall health and the avoidance of disease.

Switch to a high fibre diet that includes wholemeal bread, bran cereals, beans, fruit, vegetables and spinach as these are believed to reduce the body's need for insulin.

Weight reduction is also a good idea, as those who are overweight increase their chances of contracting this disease. As a basic requirement, cut down or cut out saturated meat and dairy fats, high sugar foods and convenience meals. Later on, we will show you great ways to burn off excess fat through exercise without having to spend thousands on a gym membership.

Reducing your intake of alcohol will help because wines, beers and lagers can also be high in 'hidden sugars.' Alcoholic drinks such as wine, beer and lager can also be high in 'hidden' sugars; therefore these types of beverage should be avoided or replaced by their low sugar equivalents.

The following vitamins and minerals are believed to combat health complications associated with having diabetes.

Chromium is found in eggs, wholemeal bread and cereals and plays an important part in the manufacture of what is called the glucose tolerance factor. This in turn plays a major role in controlling blood glucose levels by encouraging the uptake of glucose by muscles, organs and so-called insulin receptors. It also stimulates the burning up of glucose for energy.

A good, all-round multi-vitamin can 'cover the bases', but for specific ailments, a higher dose of a specific nutrient may be required. When taking high doses of minerals or vitamins, always read the label and do not exceed recommended doses. If you are diabetic or have any other ailment mentioned in this book and are on medications for it, consult your physician before embarking on any dietary modification.

A couple of vitamins known for their beneficial effects on blood, circulation and arteries are vitamin C and vitamin E.

Zinc is a mineral found in significant quantities in semen and is known to play a part in insulin activity. Men who ejaculate frequently may be deficient in this mineral, and supplementation may be required.

Eating zinc-rich foods is always good, but as we only absorb around 20 percent of that available, taking zinc pills may be a good idea.

Garlic is believed to curb the increase of blood sugar levels and other herbs such as burdock help the kidneys to work normally and gentian stimulates the pancreas.

Heart Disease and High Cholesterol

There are two types of a cholesterol that circulate throughout the bloodstream. The first type is HDL and is manufactured naturally by the liver and is essential for our health. The other type of cholesterol is knows as LDL or low-density lipoprotein, and the amount you have in your bloodstream depends on genetics and diet.

It is common knowledge that overconsumption of foods high in saturated fat contributes to the 'clogging up' of arteries, which in turn reduces the flow of blood and oxygen to the heart and increases the chance of future heart problems.

Reducing high cholesterol foods such as hard margarines and cooking fats, fatty meats and meat products such as lamb chops, mince, hamburgers, bacon, frankfurters, salamis, pâté and pies, biscuits, cakes, chocolates, pastries and full fat dairy products will reduce LDL levels. Replace these with wholemeal grains, fruits, vegetables, cereals containing bran and other foods high in soluble fibre, which has been shown to lower blood cholesterol.

A higher consumption of antioxidant vitamins such as vitamin C, A, E and selenium have been shown to prevent blood fats from oxidisation. It is only oxidised fats that are thought to enter blood vessel walls and cause health problems. We will look at how anti-oxidants can contribute to overall health and slow down the ageing process in the body later on in this volume.

Garlic once again has been shown to reduce blood cholesterol levels by as much as 11 percent, and also reduce and even reverse the furring up of the arteries.

To increase levels of HDL (good) cholesterol in your body, try upping your intake of omega-3 essential fatty acids found in fish, flaxseed oils and soy products.

Regular aerobic exercise that enhances blood flow and strengthens the heart, and we show you how you can do this later on.

Heart disease is a major contributor to erectile dysfunction because circulation to the penis may be compromised. Your risk of suffering from impotence rises to 80 percent if your diet is high in foods containing saturated fats and LDL cholesterol.

High Blood Pressure

Blood pressure is taken by measuring two different readings – systolic pressure when your heart is pumping blood through your veins and diastolic pressure when your heart is at rest. A healthy young adult's pressure is usually around 120 over 80 whilst a 50-year-old man's may be slightly higher at 150 over 90, but this is considered normal as blood pressure tends to rise slightly with age. A consistent blood pressure reading of 160 over 95 is generally considered to be high.

Symptoms of high blood pressure can include headaches, dizziness or ringing in the ears. Although blood pressure fluctuation is fairly normal, the wrong kind of diet is widely accepted as being a contributor to abnormally high blood pressure. Drinking and smoking too much, being overweight, too much salt and too little exercise are all contributing factors, as is anxiety, stress and hereditary.

A high fiber diet that is low in salt, caffeine, saturated fat and too much alcohol is recommended Giving up smoking and taking up gentle aerobic exercise is also suggested.

A daily dose of around 100mg of co-enzyme Q10 has been found to reduce blood pressure significantly and our old friend garlic has also proven effective in reducing blood pressure by as much as 8 percent in clinical trials.

Acupuncture has also been used successfully to treat high blood pressure and the regular practice of yoga or meditation to relieve stress can also be effective.

High Blood pressure and ED have a strong link. In the United States, roughly 40 percent of those men with ED also had high blood pressure and/or high blood cholesterol, rising to 70 percent of those aged 60 or over. This is because when you have high blood pressure, your heart has to work harder to pump blood through abnormally narrow blood vessels that consequently can't supply organs like the penis with a sufficient amount of blood to function normally.

Depression

We all have occasional bouts of sadness, sorrow or grief but depression is a mental illness that includes feelings of worthlessness, inadequacy, isolation and despair which in turn affect the patient's ability to carry on a normal life.

When feeling depressed you can experience loss of energy, dry mouth, digestive problems, loss of appetite and weight loss due to not eating properly.

Psychiatrists agree that there are two types of depression. Exogenous depression as a result of external factors such as divorce, job loss and financial problems. The Endogenous form of the illness is a result of internal factors, such as a biochemical imbalance in the body.

Nutritionists and dieticians believe the intake of vitamin C, the B vitamins, calcium, copper, iron, magnesium and potassium could all have a positive effect on brain chemistry.

A diet high in whole grains, pulses, fresh fruit and vegetables, lean meats and seafood as a way of providing these and other vital nutrients. An all-round multi-vitamin and mineral tablet may also help ensure the diet is not deficient.

It may be a good idea to stop drinking beverages high in caffeine such as tea, coffee and some soft drinks due to their caffeine content which can contribute to sleeplessness and insomnia, both of which are often associated with depression. Also cut back on alcohol, which can also have an adverse effect on mood and sleep patterns.

A popular natural anti-depression herb is St. John's wort. The extract of this herb found in shop-bought preparations contains active ingredients such as hypericins, antioxidants and vitamin C and clinical trials have shown a dosage of 900 mg a day equally effective as drug-based anti-depressants but without the possible side effects.

Take regular exercise to stimulate energy levels, and talk to a partner or friend about your feelings. Positive thinking, creative visualization of peaceful images can also help, and self-hypnosis can prove particularly helpful in this regard.

Please read the chapter on self-hypnosis to learn more. ED in men prone to depression can have a physical and emotional cause or be the cause of depression due to low self-esteem, poor self-image or problems with their partner. The taking of orthodox anti-depressants can further aggravate the problem because certain anti-depressant drugs can cause impotence as a side effect.

Prostate Surgery

The prostate is a chestnut sized gland, involved in the production of semen, that lies at the neck of a man's bladder. The urethra passes through this glad on its way to the bladder. Prostate problems are most common in mature men aged 50 or more, when the gland enlarges and effects the flow of urine to an uncomfortable degree.

Increasing your intake of zinc has been shown to give relief from symptoms of an enlarged prostate because enlargement is often caused by the build up of a hormone called dihydrotestosterone which itself is triggered by an inadequate amount of zinc in the diet. Cells in enlarged prostates are found to contain below normal levels of this mineral.

It is also recommended that you reduce your consumption of animal fats, alcohol, coffee and tea. Studies have shown a link between ingesting these foods and a prevalence toward prostate cancer.

Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash

#home remedy tips #natural remedies #remedies #impotence #impotent

[saintsenara]

im just hyping u to post more of one year in every ten 😈😈😈

not me promising to update in december and then just... not. what am i like!

[there was a real-life reason - and not a particularly fun one - but also i do just enjoy sowing/claiming i'm about to do things rather more than i enjoy reaping/doing them.]

but with that said...

...i have actually written the next chapter, we are so fucking close to the end, the erratic update schedule will cease to matter when you realise that everything hinges on a combination of oral sex and the habeas corpus act, and everyone can be made to feel vaguely uncomfortable by the realisation that my redemption fetish is being indulged so openly puriteens will be writing posts about how i should be banned from pride.

so hang in there, anon! and thank you for picking one year in every ten from the work in progress tag game selection.

#work in progress ask game #asenora fics #one year in every ten #shocked to learn that fics actually need to be written

[queenlucythevaliant]

Why did Martin Luther reform the church?

Okay, you asked for it.

I’m going to try to do this bullet-point style for the sake of organization, because I know I invited you to ask about this, but at the same time. Man, what a question. This will be long-ish. Others, please feel free to correct me or add on if you like.

Martin Luther was not by any means the first person to observe the problems of medieval Catholicism, nor was he the first to attempt reform. John Wycliffe, Jan Hus, and others should be given their due, even if they did not set off a Reformation the way Luther did.

By God’s providence, Martin Luther and the newly-invented printing press existed in Germany at the same time. It is for that reason that he, not another, is the father of the Reformation.

Okay, so Luther. Martin Luther was the most scrupulous kind of monk, bordering on madness in his obsession with God’s holiness and his own sin. Yet after a trip to Rome in 1510, he found himself increasingly cynical about the cheap, transactive way in which he saw Christianity being practiced. Have you ever gone into a megachurch and had the horrifying realization that it had a gift shop? That feeling, but way worse.

Do you know where the magic words Hocus Pocus come from? Catholic Mass was said in Latin and the people, of course, didn’t understand a word of it. Even the clergy frequently found that learning the service rote was quicker than learning a whole new language. Thus, when the priests speaking Latin presented the bread for Communion and spoke the words Hoc est corpus meum, parishioners heard “Hocus pocus” and thought that the words themselves had some kind of power.

Luther’s experience in Rome led to a personal study of Scripture during which he found what would become the seeds of Reformed theology. It wasn’t fully formed yet, but it was definitely growing in his heart, so to speak. The bun was in the oven.

Johann Tetzel was like the P.T. Barnum of his day, or maybe a really sleazy televangelist. His job was to raise money for the Pope’s new basilica by selling indulgences. This involved ad jingles (“♫When the coin in the coffer rings, the soul from purgatory springs ♫”), overwrought sermons (“Can’t you hear the voices of your wailing dead PARENTS?????”) and even haggling over price.

Luther was not okay with this.

You can read the Ninety-five Theses here in their entirety. It’s a short read; each point is about one sentence long. It builds an argument against the way indulgences were being sold and it's s a great bit of argumentative writing, even putting aside the historical and theological importance. You should totally read the whole thing if you’re at all interested. However, I will pull some highlights here:

1. When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said, ``Repent'' (Mt 4:17), he willed the entire life of believers to be one of repentance.

37. Any true Christian, whether living or dead, participates in all the blessings of Christ and the church; and this is granted him by God, even without indulgence letters.

49. Christians are to be taught that papal indulgences are useful only if they do not put their trust in them, but very harmful if they lose their fear of God because of them.

62-64. The true treasure of the church is the most holy gospel of the glory and grace of God. But this treasure is naturally most odious, for it makes the first to be last (Mt. 20:16). On the other hand, the treasure of indulgences is naturally most acceptable, for it makes the last to be first.

94-95. Christians should be exhorted to be diligent in following Christ, their Head, through penalties, death and hell. And thus be confident of entering into heaven through many tribulations rather than through the false security of peace (Acts 14:22).

It’s important to note that Luther posted the Ninety-five Theses on the church door of Wittenberg in an effort to be a good Catholic. This was not originally an act of protest; it was a civilized list of topics for discussion written in Latin. And, honestly, while the Theses did cause a stir, they absolutely could have blown over pretty quickly had Luther not, in writing them, basically been led head-first into a completely different understanding of Christianity.

To quote the man himself, “God led me into this business against my will and without my knowledge.”

What a mood, honestly.

Johann Tetzel was understandably ticked off that Luther had made him and his line of work out to be so sleazy. (I mean they were, but like...) He ran his little temper-tantrum up to his superiors, which through a long series of Church Politics, ended up with Luther famously debating Johann Eck in 1519.

Eck was a kind of a slippery debater, but he actually did the Reformation a big favor in the long run. He succeeded in expanding the issue from “Is the whole indulgences situation chill or not?” to “Who has the final authority: the Bible or the Pope?”

Luther said, “The Bible, duh.”

The Pope got a little mad at Martin Luther. However, for the moment, it still wasn’t a super big deal. Luther was just one guy, after all.

More importantly, the fact that the question of Papal authority was raised also got Luther thinking, “hey, that’s right! This whole Pope situation is kind of BS, isn’t it?”

Around two years after posting the Ninety-five Theses, Luther finally had something like what we might call Reformed theology. It was missing a bunch of stuff, but the important stuff was there. God doesn’t want us to be perfect, He wants us to trust Him. Sola fide. Sola gratia. Solus Christus. Sola Scriptura. Soli Deo gloria.

Naturally, Luther started writing a bunch of stuff.

A whole, whole bunch of stuff.

He got away with it for a while! But after a while, enough was enough and the famous papal bull excommunicating Martin Luther from the Catholic Church was issued.

Luther burned the papal bull and wrote a response: Against the Execrable Bull of Antichrist.

(Just a reminder that the Martin Luther Insult Generator exists and it’s awesome)

Luther got summoned to the Diet of Worms to stand trial. He faced down the HRE, the pope, burning at the stake, and the prospect of hell if he was wrong. “Here I stand. I can do no other.” He refused to recant.

I wish I could go on to talk about the rest of Luther’s life, about Zwingli and Calvin, Bucer, Knox, Cranmer, Cromwell, Chemnitz, and so many others. I wish I could talk about the extraordinary courage of the ordinary people who became martyrs of the Reformation. People who staked everything—their careers, their families, their very lives—on the fact that in the Reformation, the very soul of the Gospel was at stake.

In conclusion, Martin Luther was a badass and the Protestant lineage of which we are a part is absolutely glorious.  

Fun fact: on the way back home from the Diet of Worms, Luther staged his own kidnapping

#this turned into a super long history lesson sorry #i slipped and wrote two pages on Martin Luther #no one is making me do this #it is not for a class #i had an awesome time #...why am i like this? #the unquenchable fire #unquenchable i say! #ask me hard questions