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ancientcraftnoccultism · 1 year

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🌿 Herb Of The Day

Title: Lilac

Gender: Feminine

Element: Water

Planet: Venus

📜 Folklore & History 📜

Lilacs are an old, old, species that originated in Persia and then traveled to Europe. They were brought to America in 1750 and then planted at New Jersey Governor Wentworth’s home. Other prominent men fell in love with lilacs. They were reportedly one of Thomas Jefferson’s favorite flowers, and he documented his lilac-planting-methods in 1767. George Washington followed suit and moved existing lilacs on his property to his garden in 1785.

In Greek mythology, Pan, the god of the wild, chased a nymph named Syringa. She turned herself into a lilac bush to escape Pan, and in anger, he broke off the reed-like branches which made pipes. With regret, he tried kissing the broken branches, and as his air pushed over them, sounds were made. Lilacs were responsible for the creation of “Panpipes.”

Russian folklore believed that hanging lilacs above a baby’s bed would bring the child wisdom.

American folklore thought that lilacs could drive away evil and that placing them in a haunted house would displace ghosts. Thought to be symbolic of “old love,” Victorian widows often wore lilacs as a sign of remembrance. One hundred and fifty-five years ago today, April 15th, Abraham Lincoln died after being shot by John Wilkes Booth. Any American — and much of the world — knows the story of the self-educated, country lawyer who became one of our nation’s most beloved presidents. But what many Americans might not realize is how the death of Lincoln reverberated into so many areas of our collective psyche, including literature and horticulture, thanks to Walt Whitman. Walt Whitman was a reporter, printer, writer, traveler and Civil War nurse who is considered one of America’s greatest poets. He self-published Leaves of Grass and worked on it throughout his lifetime, eventually modifying it so that there are eight different editions. Whitman felt a great affinity with President Abraham Lincoln, and when Lincoln was assassinated in the spring of 1865, Whitman grieved.

He wrote years later in Specimen Days about learning of the President’s death:

"I remember where I was stopping at the time, the season being advanced, there were many lilacs in full bloom. By one of those caprices that enter and give tinge to events without being at all a part of them, I find myself always reminded of great tragedy of that day by the sight and odor of these blossoms. It never fails."

While lilacs are first to bloom, their flowers are short-lived. The heady fragrance lingers sweetly at first, but then the blooms start to die, leaving a heavy, cloying smell. One of the first flowers of spring, lilacs contain a natural compound called indole that’s found in flowers — and feces. It’s that undercurrent of the “bottom note” of fragrance that suggests decay and death.

🔮 Metaphysical Properties 🔮

The beautiful May-blooming lilac is one of the loveliest tokens of spring. But they are much more than beautiful shrubs with showy, sweet-smelling flowers. Originally lilacs were planted to repel all evil. Planted near the entryway, lilacs were believed to send out protective vibrations. When the flowers are cut and brought into the home they cleanse any living space. And they'll also remove any unwanted spiritual presence. Blue and white varieties work well for this purpose. Since lilacs are ruled by Venus, they are also used in love spells. Try placing some pink lilacs on your altar while performing a love spell. The dried flowers make a powerful addition to any love sachet.

🍴⚕️ Culinary & Medicinal Properties

The simplest way to enjoy lilacs is as an infusion of the flowers for a lilac sugar. The sugar can then be used in recipes to add lilac flavor to baked goods. This also works with a lilac simple syrup which is just a liquid form of the same thing that’s perfect for making cocktails. For my money though, I think lilac infused honey sounds the best. The sweet floral flavor of lilacs translates beautifully into an ice cream base.

To prevent the recurrence of disease, lilac flowers were used to help strengthen the system and prevent relapse after a patient had healed. They’re said to be specifically good after cases of malaria. Tasting the raw flowers you can actually pick up some of the astringent qualities, as they make your mouth dry and pucker a bit (along with their floral flavors). This astringent quality makes them good for use in skin care products. Lilacs are used as a folk remedy for intestinal worms, as well as a treatment for gastric discomfort and gas. Regardless of the purpose, the most likely medicinal lilac preparation is a tincture, which is just a lilac infused alcohol

#elder witch #baby witch #beginner witch #dark witchcraft #herbalism #herbology #herbs #whimsigoth #witch aesthetic #witch herbs #divination #spirituality #spiritual #witchblr #witchcore #witchcraft #witch tip

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delimeful · 1 year

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to know that song (and all its words) (7)

warnings: injury, misunderstandings/assumptions, threat of murder, implied violence, cliffhanger

By the time trouble caught up to them, things had settled into a strange equilibrium on Virgil’s ship.

The sense of something close to casual co-existence with three Deathworlders was about the last thing he would have ever expected, but it was undeniably present.

He knew they were dangerous, knew that he was a danger to their secrecy and thus his life had an expiration date, knew that even the friendlier members of the trio were capable of surviving things Virgil could hardly imagine.

Even so, it was hard to keep that knowledge pulled around him like a shield when the three of them treated him more like a crewmate than a hostage.

Having access to food and hygiene facilities had done wonders for the Humans, the tension knotted up in every line of their bodies fading more and more until they hardly resembled the (weary-harsh-terrified) fugitives that had originally stolen onto his ship.

Virgil had thought he’d resent the very idea of invaders being on his ship long enough to grow comfortable, but the reality was that some strange tightness in his lungs eased when he saw the Humans indulging in things other than that single-minded focus on surviving future threats.

Noisy would chatter to himself while messing with the material printer’s settings until he got exactly what he was looking for, and while he mostly printed items for utility, like specific styles of dishware and what Virgil suspected were the Human version of first-aid materials, he would also occasionally spend ages fiddling with the tiniest details until he had created a design for a small, intricate sculpture. They didn’t have any practical use, but going by the (fond-happy-treasured) reactions when he presented them to the others, they were a form of expression.

He would put hours of work into each carefully crafted art piece, his face scrunched up with the force of his (concentration-effort-patience) focus.

Heartfelt could occasionally be found sprawled out on the floor of the bio room, face turned upwards to face the light as though they were just as sustained by it as the rest of the plant life. They often dragged Noisy or Square in to lay down with them, but the first time Virgil had witnessed it, they’d been on their own and he’d assumed the worst: that they’d fallen and hurt themself, or fallen victim to one of the many toxic specimens in the room. He had worked himself into a panic that took them an embarrassingly long time to soothe, and immediately set about labeling the plants by level of danger.

Now, passing the bio room, it had become a habit to glance over and check for a Deathworlder stretched out amidst the leaves and UV lights, acting more plant than person.

Even Square had been coaxed from their standard position hunched over a display or graph in the nav room, their attention tangibly catching the moment Noisy and Heartfelt showed them the lab. They curiously inspected every inch of the space, poking through the instruments with varying levels of recognition and surveying the chemical and organic compounds in the storage cabinets with a bright glint in their eyes.

Virgil offered explanations the best he could, but the language barrier didn’t discourage them; if anything, they seemed almost delighted about the prospect of puzzling out the purpose or composition of each individual component.

Somehow, it was… nice.

The company was far different from what he was used to, and his instincts were still constantly set off by Deathworlder body language, but the trio was such a departure from what he’d initially expected from their infamous species that he’d found himself drawn into their orbit.

It didn’t help that the more Common they picked up, the more they spoke to him just for the sake of conversation, friendly and curious about nearly everything they saw.

It didn’t help that he’d taken to sleeping in their makeshift den room most shifts, far away enough that he felt the illusion of security, but more than close enough to see the way they spoke softly to each other and curled up together in sleep like fledglings.

It didn’t help that while Square was still stringent about guarding the nav room, Noisy and Heartfelt had, by all appearances, outright forgotten that Virgil was a hostage who needed to be closely supervised at all times.

He’d returned to his usual habit of wandering the ship’s halls when he couldn’t sleep, and even though it was technically a violation of one of their rules, Square had let the unsupervised pacing go uncommented on, apparently seeing the wisdom in Virgil’s decision to leave the other two’s rest undisturbed.

It was during one of these insomniac sessions that the ship was boarded.

The pirate vessel must have been cloaked, because its approach went entirely unnoticed by the autopilot sensors. If it weren’t for the very subtle vibrations it sent through the walls of his ship as it locked on to the side of it, Virgil may not have noticed the intrusion at all.

As it was, it took him far too long to understand exactly what kind of trouble he had waded into this time.

Raiders didn’t typically risk direct boarding other vessels in open space unless they were hugely profitable, often preferring to prey on those who stopped at fueling bays or cargo loading areas. Less risk of a hull breach or other catastrophic failure taking out their victims and them, that way. Virgil’s undersized little repurposed research vessel was hardly an ideal target, much less worth that much risk.

Half-convinced he’d imagined the tremors, he’d headed down the main hall to run a security check, and reached the loading bay just in time for his gaze to catch on the handle of one of the emergency jettison exit hatches, and watch it twist and yank open.

The moment he realized what was happening, he’d tried to bolt.

Unfortunately, these raiders seemed to be well-practiced in their profession, because the first thing to pass the mouth of the hatch was the muzzle of a paralyzer, and Virgil’s sprint towards the door turned into a painful collision with the ground, every muscle locked up in pain.

He lost a bit of time– Ampen were well known as one of the smallest spacefaring species, and paralyzers weren’t anything close to gentle even on the largest– and by the time he’d blinked his way back into the realm of mostly-conscious, the raid on his ship was already underway.

There were a few aliens still in the loading bay, mostly prying open cargo boxes and guarding their entrance, but most of them had delved further into the ship to search with the methodical viciousness raiders were known for. Even from here, Virgil could hear the distant crashing of things being destroyed as his home was upturned and sifted through for valuables.

It was hard to care about that, though, when he could feel the aethers of the closest raiders, and knew exactly how much (glee-want-satisfaction) greed they were saturated with.

The feelings were far too strong to be about the simple rewards pillaging a small cargo vessel would offer.

Someway, somehow, they had learned about the Humans onboard. That was their true target.

Virgil’s limbs were still mostly-numb, entirely useless to him. Panic hovered over him like a wave about to crash, only held at bay by his impotent fury at both the raiders and himself.

He couldn’t believe he’d darted for an exit so mindlessly, so predictably. He should have tried for the control panel instead, should have locked the loading bay doors and cut off the intrusion at its source, should have sought out Square the moment he had felt that first mild tremor.

Stars, Square was the only one even awake when he’d started his pacing. Virgil imagined Noisy and Heartfelt waking up at weaponpoint and was filled with hollow misery.

Deathworlders were powerful, sure, but unexpected ambushes could take down even the most dangerous opponents.

And his Humans had lost their hunted look. They’d found security in Virgil’s ship, and he dreaded watching them get caught because of it, that sense of safety stripped away.

When the raiders began trickling back in through the doorway, however, it was with empty hands and mutinous expressions. The room began to fill with (frustration-apprehension-irritation) tension thick enough that it almost overshadowed Virgil’s own stunned disbelief.

His ship was not large by any stretch of the word. All the escape pods were present and only accessible through the loading bay. Most importantly, three entire Humans were hard to miss, how had they simply… vanished?

The leader of the raiders seemed to be thinking along the same lines. He turned to Virgil with a displeased air about him, a twitch of his head directing one of his nearby underlings to hoist Virgil into the air by the scruff so that they were at eye level.

His body barely spasmed at his mental command to struggle, but his feathers fluffed out without conscious control, an automatic defense that was entirely useless at the moment. “Let… go, you… shithead,” he managed to wheeze out, his Common saturated with the whistling pitch of his home tongue.

The leader made a derisive-sounding chk-chk-chk in the back of his throat, stepping closer. “With an attitude like that, I’m even more surprised they kept you alive this long.”

“My ship,” Virgil said, straining to get his limbs to respond.

“Only as long as you’re the strongest one on it,” the leader replied, like classic raider scum. “You know what we want to know. I can’t imagine you’ve had a very pleasant stay here with those creatures.”

The only reason Virgil didn’t bristle more visibly was because his body wouldn’t let him. “Don’t know. What you’re talking about.”

“Come on, even a scrapped-together pile of junk like this has heat sensors, doesn’t it? Just give me admin access to the system, and we’ll be on our way.” The leader paused, and then leaned in a little closer, his voice coaxing but a silent threat in every motion. “This is an excellent opportunity for you, you know. We’ll leave you unharmed, with your ship securely back into your possession, free of any and all bloodthirsty intruders! All we need is a short moment of your cooperation.”

This close, all Virgil could sense was his aether. There wasn’t a single trace of trickery in it; his promise was genuine.

The offer was generous, considering who it was coming from. It was the smart choice to make, considering that Virgil had anticipated from the start that he would be a loose end to tie up the moment the Humans decided to leave his ship.

If he agreed, he could be saving his own life.

In exchange, he’d be sentencing his captors to be forced into working for– killing for raiders, locked into service against their will. And that was at best. At worst… they’d be subjected to the kind of black market horrors he’d only heard stories about.

Virgil tucked his chin down, a habit borrowed from Crav’n body language and a fairly common indicator of stubbornness in this quadrant. He made direct eye contact, intentional rudeness to compliment his next words. “I don’t… give starscourge pirates shit. Nobody on this ship… ‘cept me, anyhow.”

A ripple of mocking jeers spread through the gang surrounding him, and the leader shook his head with faux-pity. “Looks like we’ve got a liar on our hands. You think we just picked your ship randomly out of the ink, little guy? We’ve been tracking you for weeks. Ever since we checked the sec-cam footage from a conveniently-located fueling station and saw some very interesting stowaways slipping aboard this very vessel.”

Virgil’s antennae flattened back against his head, panic seeping in.

The leader whistled in a pathetic mockery of a soothing Ampen call. “Now, don’t get upset. You had to know someone would figure it out eventually, I mean, look at all this cargo. A bit strange that you abandoned all your latest deliveries with no warning, isn’t it? Unless you had something more valuable on board.”

He hadn’t been thinking about it. First, he’d been too grimly certain of his own death to worry about things like failed delivery fees, and then he’d assumed that wherever Square was headed, he was competent enough to keep suspicion off them.

“No more stalling.” A prompting shake jarred him from his growing desperation. “Admin access, birdy. Now.”

Virgil hissed lowly, jerking his head in the closest gesture he could get to a negative, and the leader’s impatience twisted abruptly into fury.

“Useless.” The hand holding Virgil up vanished without warning, the metal floor rising up to meet him. He reflexively tried to catch himself, but his arm barely jerked in response to his brain’s screaming signal, and when he landed, something gave way with a sickening snap.

He couldn’t have helped the high-pitched shriek of pain if he’d tried, and though the leader kept talking, he hardly caught any of the words.

He did catch the sound of the loading bay doors sliding open once more.

Surprise-excitement-fear jolted through the raiders, so overpowering Virgil was startled he hadn’t blacked out already.

“Well, if it isn’t exactly the beasts we’ve been looking for,” the leader said, and a frisson of worry-fear-desperation slid through Virgil before being overwhelmed by the pain and the aether once more. He tried to say something, a warning for– for someone important, but the words wouldn’t come, only a high, thin whistle to accompany each painful exhale.

“You hurt him,” someone said. The voice sounded like Heartfelt, but it couldn’t be them. They’d never spoken with such a flat numbness to their words.

“My crew is one of the most feared in the entire quadrant,” the leader replied, his pride blooming like one of Janus’s deadlier flowers. “Those who defy us don’t live long to tell the tale.”

“Similar things have been said about us,” a cool voice responded. That was Square, wasn’t it? “And yet, you still boarded our vessel.”

“This can hardly be called a proper ship for creatures as powerful as you,” the leader said, radiating enough amusement to soothe his crew’s unease. “Bigger and better accommodations is the least I’ll be able to offer you as your new employer.”

There were large steps, slow and unobtrusive, making their way towards where he lay.

That seemed important, but his attention slipped away anyhow. His mind felt thick and cloudy with aether overexposure, each thought made distant and disconnected by the pain.

“Employer,” Square echoed. “This is your idea of a job offer.”

Their voice was different, too. Icy and carefully-controlled, the way it had been back when they’d first boarded his ship. Virgil felt his feathers– why were they so extended– ruffle in quiet apprehension.

Why were they mad? Had he broken a rule?

“You’re lucky,” the leader was saying, “most crews would see you as mindless beasts, and try to put you down for parts or sell you as entertainment. I’m on the sharper side of the blade: if you’re clever enough to speak, you have enough of a mind to take orders.”

They were being hired? Oh. That was why Square sounded like that.

They were leaving, so they had to get rid of Virgil.

Those steps, again, accompanied by a shadow falling over him. The crowd around him shrank away, taking their amalgamation of rough-edged (fear-anticipation-eagerness) aether with them.

In comparison, Heartfelt’s (desolate-tender-resolved) familiar presence felt like a down-fluff blanket against his mind, and he relaxed slightly despite himself. He tried to greeting-chirp at them, and the noise came out strangely.

“We’ll have to get rid of that one,” the leader said. “He’s a stubborn thing, and not the sort of witness that’ll play witless when questioned about raiders. We wouldn’t want the authorities to come sniffing around and find someone like him, would we?”

There was the barest tremor in Heartfelt’s hands as they delicately wrapped around his sides, lifting him slowly into a hold that could almost be called a cradle. They were careful to avoid jostling his arm, their eyes growing alarmingly wet at the sight of the snapped bone.

No matter how hard he tried, Virgil couldn’t hold onto his fear. He was too relieved, the specifics of why he’d been worried in the first place escaping him. The Humans weren’t in danger, after all. They needed Virgil gone, but Heartfelt was gentle, and they would be quick about it.

He could see Square, now, as Heartfelt returned to their side. Their body was rigid with tension, but they weren’t looking at him. Virgil’s antennae flattened back in consternation. There was something strange about seeing the both of them side by side.

“Thank you for your time,” Square said. “Unfortunately, we will not be accepting the offered position at this time.”

Their voice was low and measured. Next to them, Heartfelt was entirely silent, their eyes scrunched firmly shut. Something about the quiet…

“What–,” the leader spluttered, only to be cut off by Square whistling, three short but piercing bursts of sound.

Where was Noisy?

In the next heartsbeat, everyone was plunged into an all-encompassing darkness, as though someone had flipped every light breaker switch on the mainframe all at once. The hum of the ship’s electrical grid cut off, leaving a short stretch of dead silence.

Humans could still move fairly well in the dark, Virgil remembered idly. Even better with a warning.

His consciousness finally dropped away as the first screams started.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #humans are deathworlders #tktsaaiw #to know that song and all its words #ampen virgil #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #ts roman #my writing #writing #reverse wibar

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nailsofvecna · 7 months

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These striking specimens, imported from the wildflower meadows of the Feywild, possess a luscious red colouration with gold and black patterns that look a lot like arcane glyphs.

A cursory divination tells us that the glyph-printer butterfly is saturated with raw abjuration magic, to the extent that its touch can inflict a forceful arcane shock. The giant version is even known to inscribe runic wards on the surfaces it lands on, possibly as a defence against predators. Take care about where you step when one of these is abroad!

#stat block sunday #d&d 5e #homebrew #monster

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

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Tulip

Summary: You find yourself using your safeword while role-playing a scene with Andy.

Warnings: Smut, Role Play, Degradation, Aggressive Andy, Submissive Reader, Spanking, Safe Wording, Panic Attack, Aftercare, Concerned Andy, Soft!Andy, Past Abuse (mentioned), CMNF, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for my friend, @birdie-girl - Please heed the warnings. I don’t want anyone to be inadvertently triggered by the content below. Part of my Growing Pains Series. Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!

—

You force yourself to take a deep breath as you stand outside of your boss’ office. Smoothing your hands down the fabric of your pink blouse and black pleated skirt, you desperately hope that the man is in a good mood for once. Squaring your shoulders, you open his door and then somehow manage to trip over your own two feet.

“You’re late.” He growls without looking up from his computer as you practically tumble inside the room holding a large stack of files.

“I know, Mr. Barber, and I’m so sorry. There was an issue with the printers this morning and it took poor Reggie from I.T. forever to fix it. But I’ve got the documents you requested so -”

“Did I say I wanted to hear your excuses?”

“Um…” Your teeth begin to gently worry your lower lip. “No, sir, you did not.”

“Then why are you still talking?”

That shuts you up real fast. What an ass.

You stand there in the middle of his office, unsure of what to do as you try to keep your knees from wobbling.

“Jesus Christ. Don’t just stand there, Y/N. Have a seat already.” Not needing to be told twice, you plop yourself into one of his cushy office chairs.

Mr. Barber, the CEO of Spotlight Enterprises, was the most handsome and intimidating male specimen that you’d ever laid eyes on. At just over six feet tall, the man was nothing but pure muscle. Couple that with his thick, tawny locks, his perfectly trimmed beard, and his intoxicating blue eyes…

Let’s just say that everyone you worked with was either terrified of him, attracted to him, or both.

And you fell solidly into the last category.

After what seems like forever, he finally manages to pull himself away from his screen.

“Do you have everything I requested?” He asks, motioning for you to hand over the folders you were holding.

“Yes, sir.” At least you hoped you did.

“Can’t blame me for having my doubts.” He mutters as he thumbs through various pages. “You’re far from the best assistant I’ve ever had. Even on your good days.”

You bow your head as you feel shame begin to creep over your features.

That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t that you were bad at your job, it was that the man you worked for had a well-known reputation for being difficult.

“I can go if you’d like a few quiet moments to review. I know how it feels to try to work with someone constantly looking over your shoulder.” You offer up a weak laugh.

“Stay where you are. And you need someone looking over your shoulder because you are apparently incapable of functioning on your own.” He looks up at you with those gorgeous blue eyes and shakes his head.

Over the next few minutes, you watch as he grows increasingly frustrated. His brow furrows, his jaw clenches.

“You know, Y/N, sometimes I’m convinced you like making my life difficult.”

“What? I - no! I gave you what you asked for, sir.” You try and fail to keep the panic out of your voice.

“No.” He snarls as he tosses three files into the waste bin. “No, you silly girl, you did not. I asked you for the Watson, Duncan, and Markish accounts and what did you bring me?” He picks up the garbage can. “You brought me the Walker, Dresden, and Matya files.”

“That - that can’t be right!” You stammer. “I brought you all of the accounts you requested in your email. I know I did!”

Mr. Barber just shakes his head. “You know how much I hate when people waste my time, especially you.” He mutters. “Get up and go lock my door. I’m going to show you what happens to dumb little girls who can't seem to do their job.”

You feel hot tears prick the backs of your eyes at his words.

“Mr. Barber, sir, I’ll go reprint everything right now. It’ll take me ten minutes tops -”

“Go. Lock. My. Door.” He grunts. “Show me you can do as you’re told.”

Your mouth is suddenly dry as you move to comply. Once the lock is in place, you step back and await further instructions.

“Remove your skirt, Y/N.” Your boss purrs, his deep voice pitched to arouse. “Slowly.”

Once again, you do as he asks, revealing the lacy, jade green panties he’d purchased for you.

And had ordered you to wear. Today.

Scooting his chair back, he pats his lap. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

Keeping your head down, you walk over to him and place yourself over his knee. You wince as he caresses your curvy backside before he yanks down your panties and delivers a hard smack, making you yelp.

“You precious little idiot.” He hisses before landing another blow. “Because of you, I have to cancel my 3:00pm meeting so I don’t show up looking unprepared.” Mr. Barber slaps your ass again. “And it’s all your fault.”

Each word is peppered by a rough smack to your ass.

“You can't do anything right, can you?" Another smack. "Swear to God, you’re so lucky you’re pretty, baby. Because I’m starting to think that you are as dumb as they come. I can’t even begin to fathom how you’ve gotten this far.”

You can’t help the tears as they begin to fall. You weren’t dumb, damn it. You had graduated at the top of your class!

“You had better take your punishment like the grown woman you pretend to be, my dumb baby girl, before I decide to make things worse.”

The tears are falling harder now.

You didn’t like this game anymore.

“Pretty sure I’ve met bricks smarter than you.” He growls, as the blows cease and his big hand moves to massage your vulnerable pussy, prompting you to try to wiggle off his hard lap. “And yet here we are. At least you know how to suck dick. Might be the only thing you’re good at.”

You feel your body begin to shake.

“Should make you get on your hands and knees and beg to keep your job."

And that’s when you break.

“Tullip.” You whisper, your voice coming out rough as you begin to hyperventilate. “Tullip.”

Everything stops immediately, and your body is quickly maneuvered so that you’re sitting upright. Try as you might, you can’t catch your breath. Your body keeps shaking, whimpering, and wheezing without your permission.

“Hey, Y/N, baby.” Andy coos as he rubs your back. “Baby, calm down. It’s over. We’re done.”

You try, but you can’t.

“Okay, Okay. Okay.” Your boyfriend takes your hand and presses it against his chest, letting you feel his heartbeat. “Everything’s alright, baby girl. You’re alright. I just need you to slow down your breathing. Breathe with me, Y/N. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

You struggle to do as he asks, but eventually, you manage.

“Good girl. Again. In through your nose - there we go - and out through your mouth.”

Andy makes you repeat this exercise several more times as he gently rests his forehead against your own.

“That’s it.” He murmurs when your breathing finally begins to even out. “You’re safe, you hear me? Can you please acknowledge that you hear my voice?”

“I - I hear you.” You manage between the occasional hiccup. “I’m okay. I’m safe. I’m not stupid. Or dumb. Or an idiot. Or a brick. I’m not. I’m not!” You find yourself screaming the last part.

Your father used to call you those things. And no matter how many times you asked him to stop, he never did. But your man stopped. You remind yourself. He stopped when you asked.

“Of course you’re not, my beautiful girl.” Andy tells you as he rocks you back and forth. “You’re the smartest, sweetest, sassiest little thing I’ve ever met.” Sliding his chair over to his mini-fridge, your boyfriend pulls out two cold bottles of water. He then opens one and gently holds it to your lips.

“Small, slow sips, my love.” You let out a small sigh as he rests the other unopened bottle at the base of your neck. “There we go.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper after you drain every last drop.

“Stop it, Y/N. You have nothing to be sorry for - that’s why we have that word. Keep holding this to the back of your neck. It’ll help cool you down.” He says as he picks you up and carries you out of his office and into the living room.

Once you’re both safely snuggled up on the couch, you allow yourself to bury your face in your Big Man’s chest before realizing that you needed more.

“Skin.” You tug at his shirt. “I need to feel you please.”

Nodding, Andy makes quick work of undoing the buttons and removing his dress shirt. And then he removes yours, along with your bra, leaving you naked and him still in his slacks. But you didn’t care, so long as you were able to touch him. Feel him.

“Better?”

“Uh huh.” He takes the still cold bottle of water and presses it to your chest.

“You ready to talk to me yet, little love? What happened? Did I spank you too hard?”

Andy sincerely doubted that that was the issue.

“No. It was - it was the words. My father used to say some of those things to me. And to hear you call me a “dumb baby girl” instead of your “good girl” while we were playing rough…it…it threw me a bit.”

“I’m so sorry, baby. You know I don’t really think of you that way. And I didn’t realize about your Dad either…”

And then a thought strikes him.

“He, uh, he didn’t ever tell you to beg…did he?”

Andy’s blood begins to boil when he feels you tense against him. Fuck! Yes, you two had been playing a game earlier, but he hated that the words he'd used had set you off like this.

“He did. Once.” You whisper. “We had a fight when I was in my twenties while I was living with him and my mom. Later when I tried to approach him and talk things out, he told me that the only way I could continue to stay there was if I begged him. My mom didn't believe me when I told her what happened, and since I’m not built to do that, I left the next day.”

“Shit, Y/N, baby girl…” Unsure of what else to say, he continues to gently stroke his fingers across the soft skin of your belly. “I’m so sorry. ”

You’re both quiet for a moment.

“I’m proud of you for sharing with me. And I’m even more proud that you didn’t let him win like that. You don’t ever need to beg for anyone’s acceptance. Not your father’s, not mine. Swear to God I will never ask you to do that.” Andy begins to sweetly pepper your face with kisses.

“I know you wouldn’t. And I like it when we play rough. It’s just that, um, that scene didn’t work for me the way I thought it would. But I still wanna play sometimes.”

“Okay, and we will. But we’ll just have to talk it through a little more next time. Figure out what words might upset you in real life. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Now, I’m going to get us a blanket and when I come back, I’ll order us something to eat." He says, just in time for your stomach to rumble. "Do you feel shaky at all? Do you - you know what? Never mind. There’s a Gatorade in the fridge. I’m going to snag it, and you’re going to sip it for me, sweet girl.”

“Okay.” You respond, smiling up at him.

“God, how I love that smile.” He leans down to cup your face for just a second. “You just take it easy and let me take care of you. That’s an order, Missy, from the man who loves you more than anything.” Your Andy Bear winks at you before trotting away.

Well, if you hadn't been in love with the man before, you certainly were now.

END

#chris evans #andy barber #chris evans smut #andy barber smut #chris evans black!reader #andy barber black!reader #chris evans woc!reader #andy barber woc!reader #chris evans imagines #andy barber imagines #chris evans fanfiction #andy barber fanfiction #cevansbrat0007 asks #cevansbrat0007 fics #cevansbrat0007growing pains series #chris evans x you #chris evans female!reader #chris evans x yn

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notthesaint · 29 days

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If you had a 3d printer how many nosk would you print, and how large of a nosk would you make with one?

Realistically, I would definitely make 3d printed models of characters that I find very hard to draw, IT WOULD BE A REALLY GOOD REFERENCE *it makes the poses more accurate and easier to study (which is a bonus point)*

For the nosk part.,I will make it tiny, the same size as the palm of my hand, one singular nosk to analyze as a specimen...

#ask #I am finally clearing my inbox (I am winning)

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northwindow · 2 years

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random acts

a chaotic, uncertain, and disorderly syllabus [x]

why fish don't exist & “the eleventh word” by lulu miller

book and essay by npr journalist lulu miller on the search for order in a world of chaos. miller was inspired by the story of naturalist david starr jordan, whose collection of carefully classified and labeled fish specimens was scrambled in an earthquake in 1906. while researching his quest to rebuild his life's work she discovers surprises about his life that yield insights about her own search for order and meaning. “the eleventh word” follows her family after the onset of the covid-19 pandemic and the publication of why fish don’t exist, when her young son learns the very word “fish” that she attempts to complicate in her book.

chaos: the making of a new science by james gleick

the first popular science book on chaos theory aimed at non-physicists and non-mathematicians, published in the 1980s by science reporter james gleick. presented chronologically, chaos begins with the story of meteorologist edward lorenz's experiments with a weather simulator and expands to cover the ubiquity of chaos in fields like astrophysics, ecology, economics, geometry, and biology; as well as the ways the study of chaos has altered scientific paradigms.

"the lava lamps that help keep the internet secure" by tom scott

video in which youtuber tom scott visits the web security company cloudflare, where a camera photographs the changing patterns in a row of lava lamps to generate unpredictable values for their cryptography. in another office, a receipt printer generates outputs such as magic 8-ball responses, mazes, and sudokus from their random data.

"just randomness" by michael marder

essay in real life magazine by philosopher michael marder about ethics and algorithmic decision-making, in which he argues that algorithms should not recuse us from making fundamental decisions about justice. by trying to use randomness to create fairer systems, marder writes that we are prone to the pitfalls of perceived randomness-- particularly at the hands of the learned gender, race, and class biases absorbed by artificial intelligence.

"what does chaos theory have to do with art?" by dean wilcox

paper by culture writer dean wilcox on the connections between chaos theory in physics and image/process-driven work in art. wilcox uses the plays of robert wilson and the films of david lynch, both of which eschew predetermined narrative structures, as artistic corollaries for chaos science. for an analysis on art and entropy focusing on the work of many 1960s artists and architects, see robert smithson's "the new monuments and entropy." (thank you to @vis-uh-vis for the suggestion!)

"divination and game theory" by john henrich

short section of evolutionary biologist john henrich's book the secret of our success, which as a whole explores various ways that cultural evolution may advantage the human species. he touches on several examples of how random divination techniques, such as augury or osteomancy, are an evolutionary boon in situations where random decisions are valuable. for more thoughts see "paul the octopus' death and other thoughts on animal oracles" by alice dos reis from the dutch socio-political research project, schemas of uncertainty (many other interesting pieces here too!)

"the elusive apple of my i," "consciousness = thinking", "a courteous crossing of words," & the final pages of i am a strange loop by douglas hofstadter

a selection from cognitive scientist douglas hofstader's book on consciousness, i am a strange loop. these parts are dedicated to pondering how our coherent sense of self is established in spite of the chaotic "mass of seething and churning” at the level of cellular structures or subatomic particles. (note: brief references are made to concepts from elsewhere in the book, notably epi from ch. 7 and careenium from ch. 3 in the full text. thanks to @calliopecantaloupes for pointing me to this!)

alan watts on the myopic view of the world

lecture by theological writer and speaker alan watts on the common western perception of the universe as chaotic, alien, and unsympathetic. he explains how we might expand our "myopic" view of life, which focuses on our individual egos and voluntary actions, to see a larger order of magnitude in which the self and environment depend harmoniously on each other.

#syllabi #header image is by alison filice

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adhdnojutsu · 11 months

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It's a month till my birthday and I'm being financially stupid again, so here's a friendly reminder t hat you can get this perfectly normal Itachi Uchiha phone holder as a DIY kit for only $60/€60 shipped! Includes 3 heads (gagged, blissful, ouchie face), body and feet, no cloak because my printer is too small. DIY: unsanded, unpainted, head supports left on to prevent shipping damage. Comes with instructions & tools recommendations.

Fully painted & assembled with a little Akatsuki blanket: $150 shipped with all 3 heads, $110 with one head of choice.

Length: approx. 21 cm, height: approx. 9 cm.

Please allow a production time of 21 days for the DIY kit, 90 days for the fully done one.

Extra insurance for international orders is $20. Ships from Germany, so please mind import taxes.

More images: https://www.deviantart.com/adhdnojutsu Please keep in mind the specimen pictured is a sloppy prototype and you're not getting that. He had printing errors and suffered hair breakage, so he was my practice item. I'm working on prettier presentation specimens now that I have an airbrush. Also the white lines around his bussy are light reflections from the glazing. Yes, the painted one can get glazed at no extra charge :D

Keep in mind this is a 1-man-business and a hand-made item.

Here's an example of the DIY kit, except the body has been primed and the supports removed from the heads. Due to breakage risk and potential imperfections, I am selling this particular set for $50/€50 shipped. He will be packed with great care, but as with other anime resin figures, those hair strands are super vulnerable when the supports aren't on, so you may wanna keep UV glue handy.

#naruto #itachi #itachi uchiha #naruto fanart #itachi fanart #naruto shippuden #itachi naruto #uchiha itachi #naruto uzumaki #resin kit #garage kit #anime resin #naruto art #resincraft

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scotianostra · 7 months

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On October 28th 1880 Dr Henry Faulds, a Scots medical missionary working in Japan, published a letter in “Nature” which gave the first evidence that fingerprints could be used as proof of guilt or innocence in legal cases.

Like my last post about Liston, fingerprinting was not a new concept,in 14th century Persia, various official government papers had fingerprints (impressions), and one government official, a doctor, observed that no two fingerprints were exactly alike.

In 1686, Marcello Malpighi, a professor of anatomy at the University of Bologna, noted in his treatise; ridges, spirals and loops in fingerprints. He made no mention of their value as a tool for individual identification. A layer of skin was named after him; “Malpighi” layer, which is approximately 1.8mm thick.

In 1823, John Evangelist Purkinji, a professor of anatomy at the University of Breslau, published his thesis discussing 9 fingerprint patterns, but again he too made no mention of the value of fingerprints for personal identification.

The English first began using fingerprints in July of 1858, when Sir William Herschel, Chief Magistrate of the Hooghly district in Jungipoor, India, first used fingerprints on native contracts. On a whim, and with no thought toward personal identification, Herschel had Rajyadhar Konai, a local businessman, impress his hand print on the back of a contract. He went on to use this method regularly, and as his fingerprint collection grew, however, Herschel began to note that the inked impressions could, indeed, prove or disprove identity. While his experience with fingerprinting was admittedly limited, Sir Herschel’s private conviction that all fingerprints were unique to the individual, as well as permanent throughout that individual’s life, inspired him to expand their use.

During the 1870’s, Dr. Henry Faulds, the Scottish Surgeon-Superintendent of Tsukiji Hospital in Tokyo, Japan, took up the study of “skin-furrows” after noticing finger marks on specimens of “prehistoric” pottery. A learned and industrious man, Dr. Faulds not only recognized the importance of fingerprints as a means of identification, but devised a method of classification.

In 1880, Faulds forwarded an explanation of his classification system and a sample of the forms he had designed for recording inked impressions, to Sir Charles Darwin. Darwin, in advanced age and ill health, informed Dr. Faulds that he could be of no assistance to him, but promised to pass the materials on to his cousin, Francis Galton.

Also in 1880, Dr. Faulds published an article in the Scientific Journal, “Nautre” (nature). He discussed fingerprints as a means of personal identification, and the use of printers ink as a method for obtaining such fingerprints. He is also credited with the first fingerprint identification of a greasy fingerprint left on an alcohol bottle.

Sir Francis Galton, a British anthropologist and a cousin of Charles Darwin, began his observations of fingerprints as a means of identification in the 1880’s, no mention by Galton was made of our hero Dr Faulds, but it is more than a coincidence don’t you think? Galtons observations are basically still in use today, and are often referred to as Galton’s Details, but surely without Faulds work Galton might never have even explored the field?

In 1891, Juan Vucetich, an Argentine Police Official, began the first fingerprint files based on Galton pattern types. In 1892, Juan Vucetich made the first criminal fingerprint identification. He was able to identify a woman by the name of Rojas, who had murdered her two sons, and cut her own throat in an attempt to place blame on another.

Her bloody print was left on a door post, proving her identity as the murderer, the first known case of identification in a criminal case.

So to recap, he did not discover the fingerprint technique, but was first to explore its use in possible criminal case to prove guilt or innocence.

#Scotland #scottish #history #Fingerprinting #Pioneer

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