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سكس عربي : امامي خلفي لحس و مص زوجته السورية كسها وطيزها كبيرة احلى من منى _ فاروق _ 2022
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forcibly opened this site out of deeply ingrained habit from college years... i should probably update my theme to be more accurately reflective of my current mental state. i've avoided the environment here out of pity and boredom but the bird site becomes less and less attractive every passing day. this poor laptop probably feels the loneliness radiating off of me and entices me with its general ease of use...
yk maybe one of these days ill actually post about some of my OCs and their lore and universes. big fucking emphasis on the maybe. idk, even i have at best a vague understanding of these worlds lmfao
pluvi begging you to expand on gojo not wanting what happened to his mother to happen to you 🙏
warnings: it’s all a dream so nothing is real aside from the flashback stuff but pregnancy as horror, (sewing) needles, implied gore/eye trauma, implied child harm, gojo is messed up yo!!! and its bc of his mama!!!
he dreams about her.
it’s an odd thing, really. gojo isn’t much of a dreamer—not much of a sleeper, all things considered, but it’s difficult not to give in when you drag him to bed and curl up in his arms. the soft rise and fall of your chest, the steady thump of your heart, the sound of your breath; it soothes him into slumber.
and he dreams about her. she was always young. he’s older now than she ever got to be. frail, thin; borderline skeletal, robes hanging from her body like webbing. she sits in a chair facing a window, swathed in moonlight, the silver of her embroidery needle glinting with each stab. her face is veiled. her stomach is swollen with child.
she doesn’t turn to him, but she beckons without noise. his feet take him easily to her, and he kneels at her side as she sets aside the embroidery hoop to let him place his head on her knees.
her hand is cold as it threads through his hair. it’s gentle, at first. then harsher a moment later. she grips firm, tugs him up by those electric white threads, stares down at him through all that elaborate lace.
he imagines she’s weeping beneath it. his mother never wept before him, but she was pretty in the aftermath, eyes puffy and pink and shining. they were a cold kind of loving when they regarded him. she must have been beautiful once, elegant and lithe and willowy, cruel like the heartless sea and sharp like a brilliant diamond, but whatever was there is long gone. he thinks all sons must empty their mothers, bleed them dry from within, because his was always a shell.
she trails her hand down the side of his face, and he turns into the palm and closes his eyes, and she is silent as she sets down her embroidery to lift her veil. she is silent and hollow and eidolic as her fingers brush down his jaw and tilt his head up to look at her.
but it’s your face that he sees when he opens his eyes.
it’s your hand against his cheek, your eyes pink and puffy and pretty, your stomach bulging by his own doing. it’s your fingers that pluck up the needle, still attached to a thread of brilliant cerulean, and raise it to his eye.
his mother never was able to pierce him with that needle. she stopped herself, each and every time, dropping it and tugging him close in shame. she never doted, never was kind, but she never did manage to harm him.
you do. he lets you. it’s only fair. whatever thing is in your stomach can’t be human—whether god or demon what does it matter, at the end of the day—and didn’t he put it in you himself? if his mother never got the satisfaction of spilling his blood, shouldn’t you?
but he wakes just as the tip pierces his iris, and you hold him in your lap, eyes wide with concern and not puffy from weeping, and you hold no child within you. your hands thread through his hair and they’re warm, your lips plush when you bend to press a kiss to his brow.
he turns inward to press his face into your (empty, blissfully vacant) abdomen. the wetness he leaves there, falling from his so very coveted eyes, is colorless.
sorry weird question but does things like gender reassignment work differently in the veil? They know how to do surgery im assuming but are they more advanced with the utilisation of magic?
related question which was anwsered for prothetics im pretture sure though I wasnt able to find anything on other mobility aids so I was wondering if there were things of the sort that are more advanced than ours/different
feel free to ignore if this gets touched on in the comic, I just thought it might be unlikely (which might be an incorrect assumption sorry) and was curious
That isn't a weird question, no worry!
So, while surgery is sometimes necessary for certain dire situations where magic alone cannot aid (or, for example, someone has expended all of their aetheric capabilities during the middle of an emergency), Magi and Maven both often rely on both restorative and surgical magics and potionry for medical assistance, using practical medical tools and practices in unison when needed.
With that said, things like gender reassignment are taken care of by the veil's apothecaries! The more simplistic potions aren't dissimilar to the glamour potions Maia (illicitly) sells-- things like hair, nails and skin care are available to the patient's desire, from rugged to fair and all in-between. The brews are made custom and exact, though some ready-mades exist, those are more akin to normal shampoos and aren't for, say, quickly growing a full bushom beard or flowing locks.
The more complex brews are what outworlders would consider to be gender reassignment. These can only be made by exceptionally skilled, Eidolic magi as they require working with a variety of exceedingly potent Liminal ingredients and using a sample of the patient's pure aether to use within the brew itself as the core binding. The liminal species required for this brew only grows in the deep zones where reality seems to ebb and flow, thinking of itself more a suggestion than a fact, so any apothecaries or botanists looking to harvest often need to seek the assistance of a pair of reapers when their stocks have run low since this exact species and others who grow alongside it are exceedingly difficult to grow in even an Eidolon's garden.
Difficulty in making and obtaining aside, the brew can be flavored-- thankfully, so it's a pleasant experience to drink alongside the comfort of finding oneself soon.
The lasting effects of each type of potion varies (Nightingale's Hymn, a potion for a softer voice, must be taken daily for example), so upkeep is required. Old texts point towards seemingly miraculous, permanent healings and permanent transformations into one's true self, but either the techniques used by the ancient magi responsible for these splendors have long since been lost, or it's a load of Baloney scrawled down by a bunch of ancient lush bastards.
some credits. the constellations triangulum (representing TRIPLE-POINT) in circuit purple, canis major (representing CAUSTIC) in circuit green, lynx (representing alsciaukat, aka sou spacius lynk) in their particular shade of purple, as well as circuitry in the circuit's green-purple gradient
enjoy :)
a mirror (representing TRIPLE-POINT) displaying [dog teeth? cracks?] on its glass on the left; lynk with angelic imagery on the right. lyric displayed: you're an angel / i'm a dog
additional note: as implied, the lyrics are sung by an aspect of TRIPLE-POINT, one that speaks in lowercase and developed a reverse savior complex towards lynk. everyone else does not matter to them, including themselves, hence the crossouts
the mirror is now displaying a silhouette of a person holding a leash connected to lynk's prosocollar, now without angelic imagery. lyric displayed: or you're a dog / and i'm your man
SCHRODINGER'S LYNX, lynk's persona while in the Circuit, stands with some other Circuit members: T|GHTL||SH, Operamandible, Conductive Noose, Synaptic_Static, AVERSION COMPLEX, END.repeat(end);. lyric displayed: you believe me like a god
SCHRODINGER'S LYNX, now alone. its projected lynx head displays more glitches, and its X-eye melts, as if crying. the Spire can faintly be seen in the background. lyric displayed: i destroy you like i am
lynk kneeling on the ground, tearfully reaching out to TRIPLE-POINT's broken casket post Event Horizon. lyric displayed: i'm sorry i'm the one you love / no one will ever love me like you again
some glass shards in circuit purple. lyric displayed: so when you leave me, i should die
the Spire. lyric displayed: i deserve it, don't i?
BEAKS AND BEAKS AND BEAKS AND BEAKS AND BEAKS AND BEAKS AND okay i'll stop. it's her! the namesake of the campaign! lyric displayed: i can feel it getting near
WINGS AND WINGS AND WINGS AND okay yeah you get the point. more of her (simulated self in the CRYPT OF STARS) :] lyric displayed: like flashlights coming down the way
featureless door in the VORSEHUNGSMOTOR. lyric displayed: one day you'll figure me out
Event Horizon time. CAUSTIC looks at the viewer. TRIPLE-POINT, eidolized, is visible in the background. lyric displayed: i'll meet judgement by the hounds
some Circuit embers from before, smiling. less of them because i was getting tired. for what it's worth, these are the three who are the most fond of TRIPLE-POINT and CAUSTIC, not counting SCHRODINGER'S LYNX: Operamandible, AVERSION COMPLEX, Conductive Noose. lyric displayed: people always gave me love
blurrr. lyric displayed: others were never to blame after all
lynk reaches out to TRIPLE-POINT, like adam in michelangelo's the creation of adam. lyric displayed: you believe me like a god
TRIPLE-POINT vanishes, leaving lynk alone. i should note that TRIPLE-POINT did not die in our playthrough — this segment moreso represents the several times lynk abruptly woke up from the dreams in which they speak to TRIPLE-POINT. lyric displayed: i betray you like a man
the following segment is just lynk and TRIPLE-POINT's conversation after Event Horizon. this was honestly just a last-minute decision to fill in the ending instrumentals. also they were quickly patched by the team members with Patch beforehand dw
OH MY GOTTTTTT!!!!! SILENT NEMESIS AHHHHHHWHHEAUWHHE. MY TIKTOK EIDOL MADE THIS SO COOL OMGOGMGOGMGOFMFMF QHEHEGWHEIBDIENSNSNS IM GOIJG INSANENOMGOG WHAT ETHE FUCK OMFOGM BITTE GIB SIE MIR, OH MEIN GOTT, SIE SIND FÜR EB JUSBANDS GEDACHT, OH MEIN GOTT!!!!!!
PLS OMG SUPPORT HER STUPID SHITTY ASS WORK ON TIKTOK OMG WHY SHE IGNORE ME AFTER THIS.
i very much miss being social haha.. im using my old laptop now and its just so.. much easier. in every aspect. to actually think about talking to others. what is it about this thing? is it the years of trauma and escapism connected to the time i used it? is it just genuinely easier for me to process things through a screen and keyboard that actually work?? honestly who fucking knows BUT WHO CARES! i want to talk to people and make cool sexy art and be in a community again. im making it happen.
leon kennedy took over my life last summer and i'm now writing a two-part fanfiction to cope...part one hopefully out tonight. technically a collab with mavis (@notrattus) as a prequel to her fic "eidolic"