Killian Jones, Emma Swan and the nuances of deeply emotional love-making.

A psychologist’s POV on why this particular couple hinting at sex riled up an entire fandom.

So what was it?

We have all been exposed to TV sex and (I assume) most of us have been exposed to a certain degree of personal intimacy with a significant other in our lifetimes. I’ve been witness to some unbelievably explicit TV sex myself, but I can say that not once before in my life, has the notion of an OTP “getting it on” made me daydream anywhere near as hard as Hook and Emma did last night with only the hint of post-climatic morning sex taking place on a kitchen table. I was emotional. (A bit hot n’ bothered too, but mostly emotional).

But why? What is so different about these two??

When we think about how things got started for this particular couple, it’s been a struggle for both, one in which many of us can maybe relate. Maybe you’re the lonely girl who lost faith? The guy who lost everything and is terrified of ever embracing love again? Maybe you’re both. all I can say is, we as humans have ALL felt this way, some maybe on one particular situation and some others could be facing ongoing faith trials in their lives. Regardless, seeing that an orphan and a bucaneer can find home, stability, and happiness is an overwhelming slap in the face. It’s super easy to throw the towel in; staying on the road and fighting, that’s what’s hard!! So to find these two connect that way, it’s almost like finding our own answers on the pages of a book. It’s almost therapeutic (though it would be completely unprofessional of me to say CS is a replacement for therapy, should you need it, lol), and this reaches very deep for some and many.

Now about the sex… why does this particular fandom crave to see them show at least a certain degree of sexual intimacy?

Killian’s question “Have you ever been in love?”, comes into play here. Have you ever been in love? because if you have, you will know very well how sex can change and solidify a bond between two people who are already developing such a strong connection. On a chemical POV, sex is basically a survival tool, designed to make us want it to the point of it being damn near unstoppable and thus guaranteeing reproduction. But there is something more: The bonding. The magic of Oxytocin, where your brain releases such unbelievable amounts of the stuff you find yourself suddenly unable to be without that other person. You find yourself even MORE joined together after sex than you did before, even when you didn’t think it was possible.

There is a huge huge HUUUUGE difference between the gratifying satisfaction that comes from casual sex and the overwhelming sense of completeness, peace and togetherness that derives from lovemaking, both individually and as a couple. Just think about it for a second: Love-MAKING. You are MAKING love. Making it. You are enacting love with all you have: Your body, your soul, your everything. You can only say “I love you” so many times before you feel like those words alone just don’t cut it: You want to become that person, be a part of his or her body, to be as close together as you possibly can, to find a way for your souls to commingle and embrace without the limitations of physicality. Is there physical desire though? Of course there is, we are also biological beings with a libido that needs a release. But when you are in love, there is another fuel behind it, a fuel that is not necessarily derived from just the attraction of “banging a hot guy or girl”. No matter what that person has done or what he/she looks like, you desire that person. You start to overlook the flaws, physical or character-wise, and you look deeply, into that person’s very soul, the soul you want to touch and be a part of… the person you LOVE.

So have you ever been in love? Have you ever made love, or been made love to? If not, you will know it when it happens to you… and if you have, then you will know exactly what I’m talking about.

Killian Jones was the first to fall in love in this situation. He suddenly found himself being rescued from a darkness he never believed could be overcome and there, at the end of a dark, dark tunnel, stood one Emma Swan. He felt intrigued and followed her into the light, only to find himself helplessly drawn to her on a much deeper, spiritual level. His way of proving himself to win the heart of the woman he now unquestionably loved was through loyalty. Unbarred, undeniable loyalty. And for a woman who was used to abandonment, finding a solid rock beside her who would be there for her regardless of the consequences was easily the biggest brownie point in her Captain Hook tally. Now they’re together, finding ways of fighting for that love and to keep it strong, burning hot and always beautiful.

Love-making is the next logical step; these two kids have desire for one another (that they’ve actually had for a long, long time) and while I am sure that they have already done the deed before the glorious little nuance from last night’s show, for us to witness that intimacy, that strength and that bond, is almost a reminder that there is a love strong enough for all of us, and that when we do find it, we have to hold on to it, tooth and nail, because regardless of it being an ever after love or a love affair that lasts less than what you hoped for, true love is solidified through unstoppable, devoted, deeply emotional and romantic sex, whether it’s slow and passionate or fast paced and fiery. It’s just that last bridge to cross to entirely become one with that other soul you love so much.

So there it is, kids. Hook and Emma love each other. And to many of us, this almost flawless, picture perfect version of what love could be (and actually really is with all it’s ups and downs and fights and blowouts and great, great sex) is what we all aspire to achieve at some point with our significant other. And what a fine example they are!!!!

7 Moments In ‘The Wizard Of Oz’ That Still Make Us Howl And Clap And Buy Land And Go To Sleep

Almost 80 years later, this film classic still gets us hooting and slapping and purchasing and dozing!

1. When the color kicks in: No one who’s seen The Wizard Of Oz will forget their first time watching vibrant Technicolor bloom across the screen when Dorothy finds herself in Oz. Even watching today, it’s impossible not to start screaming and applauding and bidding on tracts of Alaskan hinterland and nodding off as she takes her first steps into that fantastic land.

2. When Dorothy oils the Tin Man: The chemistry between those two still pops off the celluloid, and watching their first scene together, we just can’t help but let loose awful window-rattling whoops as we frantically bat our palms together and pour our inheritance into acre after acre of worthless property and then promptly lie facedown and faint dead away. No matter how many times you watch it, it still has that effect!

3. When the trees start hurling apples: As soon as that first apple is hurled, we’re already hoarse from the involuntary animal cries tearing out of our throats. The callouses on our palms have been torn back open from blow after blow after blow, and we’re tearing splinters out of the floorboards with our knees as we clap and howl and writhe. We sound like an a cappella group freaking out on salvia. Not only that, but we’ve also bought up every foreclosed farm we can get our hands on and capped it off by plunging deep into a dreamless void we’ll have to claw our way back out of if we ever want to escape.

4. When the flying monkeys show up: If you ever see us snoozing on the floor of the bank, clutching dozens of land titles to our chests in throbbing pink palms or hear our guttural roars wafting out of long-vacant lots, chances are we just caught a few frames of flying monkeys. That’s really all it takes.

5. When the real wizard is revealed: The moment when Dorothy & co. reveal the man behind the curtain is a stone-cold classic, and just like it must have for audiences in 1939, it never fails to start us screeching and windmilling our arms and bowing and mortgaging our homes and burying documents and discovering inner stillness and getting shot by rifles and overheating and sinking. If anything, watching it with modern eyes just makes us buy land and sprint and pulsate and crawl under our bed and pass water and declare bankruptcy all the more! Any Oz fan knows the feeling well!

6. Whenever Toto’s on screen: No one put this better than the late, great Roger Ebert in his Wizard Of Oz retrospective: “Whenever Toto comes trotting on by, I find myself having fallen fully asleep, and yet I’m shrieking and shrieking so hard that my head freely whips around on my limp body. It’s not long until my hands begin pouring every cent I’ve got into deeds for uncultivated French hills, stopping only long enough to slam into each other over and over and over, the dry thwack of flesh on flesh commingling with my increasingly ragged yelps and yawps, and god help me, but I’m not stopping till Toto’s long gone!”

7. When Dorothy sees her family again: Gets us loud, thrashing, prosperous, and comatose Every. Damn. Time.


The above photo? My friend and I, happy, soaking up the sun’s energy and each other’s energy.

The other night, a doctor in the emergency room that I work with said that I radiate light, and he can tell that I’m well connected to my surroundings. Little did I know that he meant it literally. We’ve been discussing photons emitted by human bodies. How he thinks in terms of science, doesn’t necessarily “believe” in God, but thinks that the world gravitates around the concept of light. Another doctor, an atheist, has discussed the Higgs Boson with me, saying that he thinks we have been looking at this from the wrong angle. He thinks there’s a correlation between particle physics, subatomic particles, light, photon emission, biochemistry, happiness, and our health/existence in general. He even, in a way, thinks of light, if anything, as “god”. Which I find absolutely intriguing.

I’ve spent the past several hours reading about Nobel laureates, physicists, and even MIT’s take on photon emission; but doing my best to stay away from nutty quacks, who’s explanations have no scientific basis. Here’s a research article, beginning with Planck himself:

“I regard consciousness as fundamental. I regard matter as a derivative of consciousness.” —Max Planck

The development of quantum theory in the early twentieth century and the elegant Einstein equivalence established once and for all that matter is energy. Perhaps this led Einstein to state enigmatically in 1916: “For the rest of my life I want to reflect on what light is.” David Bohm (1980) also saw all of existence as an unending sea of light, a “holomovement” in which matter is a crystallized form of light. We too are left to reflect on what light itself is. Biologic science has been slow in the uptake, failing to appropriate the implications of quantum physics, and attempting to abstract bodies from their greater matrix of energy. Medical researchers and practitioners need not repeat this mistake, but can and should appropriate the knowledge of this dynamis for the healing sciences.

Researchers in the biologic sciences are beginning to come to terms with a complementary model of biologic functioning pioneered by Gurwitsch et al. (the Vernad-sky-Gurwitsch-Bauer school). Gurwitsch (1944, 1948) introduced the concepts of the morphogenetic field (1944) and mitogenetic radiation (i.e., ultra-weak photon emission from living systems). Research continues with the work of Popp (1992), Voeikov (2000), van Wijk (2001), and others. It is a brave new world wherein the basis of life is located in the world of biophotons, electron excited states (EES), and quantum coherence; biologic systems functioning as lasers (Korotkov, 2002). At a deeper level, a truly holistic approach requires vacuum biophysics (Bischof, 2000) where the potential is as important as the actual (Dürr, 1998). These perspectives portray the body more as an energy biocomputer (Gariaev, 1994; Hurtak, 1973a) than a molecular machine. A system operating in nonequilibrium thermodynamics (Beloussov and Popp, 1995; Prigogine, 1967), it is understood as open to fields and energies that from the contemporary human perspective may seem new. These fields include consciousness fields of a mind reality operating beyond the functions of neuronal interactions and microtubule structures (Stapp, 1993).

These new fields and new energy realities that have awakened human scientific curiosity are more than passing energy phenomena; in a deeper sense they reflect the structured processes of multiple-body-vehicles that already exist within the biologic complex of the human being. This paper looks at the interplay between the two: the consciousness and material realities. For if these other models are true, holism will come to have an even more expanded meaning, and holistic medicine will be compelled to include the many subtle consciousness and energy fields that interpenetrate and commingle to form the totality that we call the human being. In so doing, medicine will evolve to draw on the full healing power implied by the insight of physicist Bernard d’Espagnat, who said: “The doctrine that the world is made up of objects whose existence is independent of human consciousness turns out to be in conflict with quantum mechanics and with facts established by experiment.”

Light, energy, electromagnetic waves, vibrating the atoms that constitute our bodies. E=mc^2. We are made of matter and matter is energy.

When you wake up, go perch outside and soak up some sunlight. Turn off Netflix. Look up at the stars. Embrace those around you. Anyway, I love you guys. I know i’m not on here as much as I used to, but I’m still here. Curious as ever.

Writer’s Block 4.1

So I’m taking a different approach to finishing this story. Instead of writing a monster chapter, it’s easier for me to do chunks of it at the moment. I’ll post every 2000 words here, and when it’s complete I’ll post it as one continuous chapter on the archives. Just seems easier for me. Hope you like this one! 4.2 isn’t far behind… Let me know what you think!

Originally posted by couplenotes

What the fuck am I reading? I toss the book aside and try to forget about the alien species commingling with human women as they take over the world with their disappearing magic lube, never-ending sexual appetite and nanocytes that heal the bruises they leave behind from their love-making. If it can be called that.

None of that garbage is going to help me write the next scene. The scene. The one I have zero experience with. Every time I sit down to write it I get nervous and edgy. But I need something written down that at least Peeta can make changes to. He won’t be much help to me this week since he’s busy finishing up an art project that’s due at the same time. I told him not to worry, that I would wrap things up on this end so he could focus elsewhere.

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The {Soul} Alchemist’s Trap Box 

I’ll preface this by saying two things – 1) I have yet to attempt to create these boxes, and 2) There is a third box – but one I do not intend to share. I do not uphold the Crede, nor fear the wrath of Karma – but the third box would undoubtedly bring down a maelstrom of horror on any who dare use it incorrectly. Hence… why I’m not including it. Tender eyes and what not.

To create these boxes, you will first need a few supplies:

  • (2) Boxes – of equal size would be ideal, but I would not think necessary
  • (1) Divider – as one of the boxes you will be compartmentalizing
  • (3) Separate Colors of Paint (at least) – one of which MUST be black
  • Salt – quite a bit, an entire carton or more, depending on the size of your box
  • Hair and Blood – your own
  • (2-3) Stones – regular, run of the mill stones would be best – larger than a quarter
  • Paintbrushes and whatnot
  • (Optional) Broken Mirror Pieces

Begin, first and foremost by prepping your paint: for which you will need your blood and your hair. Burn the hair and collect the ash, add this to your second color (i.e. not black) – in the photo tutorial, this will be marked in red, You will also need to add your blood to the same paint as your hair. While not necessary, it is strongly recommended that you add the blood. And you’re going to want to add at least a drop or two… or three. Mix thoroughly. While the paint shouldn’t spoil, I would recommend doing this just before the ritual, so everything is still relatively fresh.

Take your first box and paint the interior black – this will act as your Trap Box. It will be the one used as a snare to collect unsavory spirits of many kinds. As for this part, it works just as any trap box would. Lure/command the spirit into the box, wherein it will be trapped, yadda yadaa. You will be using a Trap Sigil in the box – feel free to design your own, for this tutorial, I’ve elected to use this:

Since you’ve painted the inside of the box black (and yes, that is an important step), and added the blood/hair to a second color, use the third (here, white) to paint in your sigil. Shown here is just the flat bottom of the box – if you wanted to use the same symbol, I would make sure to bring the lines up the edges to the mouth – perhaps even continuing them onto the lid.

When the white has been painted and had time to dry, dip your finger into the red paint and mark the center of the sigil. It is now sealed to you.

On top of the box, you will be painting a “lock” sigil, but also using the red as a sort of guide – which I’ll explain later. For this design, the top of the box would feature (the main image above):

(Note: I used a white background, but if I were to make one, I would undoubtedly paint the entire box black – then paint in the sigil with white. Notice, also, that the tridents overlap the hand print. The painting process would go: circles/rings, hand print, trident – for which I have my reasons)

(It would also be at this point that you might affix your broken mirror shards inside the box – making sure not to cover the sigil, but filling in along that inside edges and the inward facing part of the lid would be both interesting to look at and useful for containing the spirit).

For now, this box is complete.

The second box is where things get a little more complicated. As I said, youll need a divider of some sort to section the inner compartment in half. It needs to be sturdy. This is a crucial divide and you would not want any commingling between the compartments! 

Again, I’d suggest painting the inside black, as well as the divider.

This shows the four inner walls of the left compartment. In all honest, it doesn’t matter which side is which – but does matter that the red, hatched circle is on the divider. Feel free to switch sides, just make sure the red is on the divider. For now, disregard the above fingerprint, as this related to the stones, which we’ll discuss later. Do not stamp it. Do, however, paint the above symbols on each “wall,” then fill the compartment with salt.

This, obviously, shows the other half – again, the circle that is not like the rest goes on the divider. Do paint the symbol fixed in the bottom of the box – as well as continue the same symbols (the “starred” circles) onto the inside of the lid, by either doing one on each half or one large one across the entire lid.

At this point, the construction of both boxes is complete. Feel free to decorate the outside of the “Filtration” Box (box #2) however you so desire.

Now this is where things get fun! Take one of your rocks (we’ll be calling this the “Evil” Rock) and stamp the same finger print as you did on the inside of the first box (hence why the fingerprint also appears in the first side of the second box – as this is where it will eventually go!). At this point, you will also want to make a separate (easily repeatable) symbol on the same rock. This symbol will pair it with the “Good” Rock. Of course, now recreate the symbol on the Good Rock.

In essence, what you’re doing is setting up a proverbial circuit. The first box ensnares the spirit – which is then drawn through the coordinating symbol (in this case, your fingerprint) into the first compartment of the corresponding box – the one filled with salt. The circuit continues, of course, with the second symbol on the Evil Rock, which leads through the divider to the Good Rock.

Theoretically, this sort of “filtration” process should cleave the entity into a Dark and Light aspect – (this factors into my beliefs that “evil” does not exist outside of the human perception and is thus a creation of the human psyche – thereby, this process should leech this “evil” from the host spirit and keep it trapped within the first rock, while the “good” – or rather, the purest essence of the spirit is transferred into the “Good” Rock, from whence they should be released.

The same rocks should be usable for quite a few spirits, but as I mentioned, you should free the “purified.”

For information on my personal beliefs in regards to the Trap Box – briefly touching on the Soul and the Spirit and whether or not it (ethically) should be used, see:  (Beliefs Behind the Trap Box) – which basically means read before you try to send me any flack!

Maybe you do this, too.

Maybe you take all the negative emotions that swirl around you—the rage, frustration, regret, worry, shame, longing, guilt, the dark stuff you can’t even share with your shrink—and force them all into a crucible where they melt together under high heat and pressure. They’re contained, at least, in the approximately heart-sized and -shaped pot at your center.  They commingle, white hot and emitting the occasional spark, but otherwise sitting quietly out of the way.

Some people will tell you it’s better to process these things as they come and to let them go, but that’s not your way. That’s hard work. Instead, grab them and pour them in the melting pot. Problem solved.

It takes enormous psychological energy and willpower to carry this crucible, and to keep balanced so its molten contents don’t spill out and burn everything in their path. You collapse exhausted every day from the effort, though unfortunately it’s not enough to guarantee more than about four hours of sleep. Does all this require more energy than to process the components on input? Who knows? Who cares! That’s not how we do. Pour them in. That’s how we do.

Every once in a pink moon, though, something comes along that causes you to stumble and lose your balance. It’s often a tiny, inconsequential thing you could normally handle that just catches you at the wrong instant. Whoops! You lose your grip on the forceps that holds the crucible and it all comes spilling out on the poor sap who didn’t use his turn signal, or the coworker who made that sound with his mouth one time too many, burning the hapless bastard beyond recognition.

Here’s where the metaphor breaks down: even after you just about kill someone with the blast, the crucible is still full, ready for the next victim.

| Iwaoi | oneshot | au | read on ao3

And it’s for my heart that I’ll live

Down the hall the vending machine hums, mixing with the muffled voices of the nurses and their shuffled steps on dull linoleum. Sparse fluorescent lights illuminate the corridor in a dim gloom. Everything seems distant and lost in reverie.
An odd atmosphere in contrast to Tooru, running on thin nerves and cheap hospital coffee for two days now. The empty coffee cup in his hands is long useless. Turned and switched between restless fingers until the thin plastic budged and snapped.

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Falling in love is like friendship on fire:
Aquarius, Leo, Gemini

Falling in love is like your boner gets a brain, like a heart orgasm that just won’t quit:
Scorpio, Pisces, Aries

Falling in love is wanting to fix and resolve instead of simply walking away:
Gemini, Sagittarius, Libra

Falling in love is chemicals in the brain telling you this person is good to commingle your genes with:
Capricorn, Virgo

Falling in love is like your chest hurts a fucking ton whenever you see, hear, or think about that other person - except you like the feeling, and it kinda buzzes all the way up and down your spine and the back of your skull:
Cancer, Taurus, Libra, Aries

smolish-bean  asked:

DUDE HAVE YOU HEARD ABOUT THE WILDWOOD THING? do you know if its true cause i love laika and wildwood and it would be great if it was a thing

I HAVE heard about Wildwood! There’s an article (from 2011, mind you) on LAIKA’s official site that talks about it:

SEPTEMBER 7, 2011: LAIKA has optioned Wildwood, the debut HarperCollins children’s novel written by Colin Meloy, lead singer and songwriter for The Decemberists, with illustrations by award-winning artist Carson Ellis. The announcement was made today by LAIKA President and CEO Travis Knight.

“Wildwood is a marvel, an exquisite, staggering and lyrical work of art,” said Mr. Knight.  “It’s an uncannily perfect fit for LAIKA, commingling the time-honored qualities of classic fantasies and fairy tales with a bold, contemporary sensibility.  Colin’s captivating, melodic prose and Carson’s gorgeous, spellbinding illustrations form a rich bounty of ideas, language and imagery.  Wildwood is a wonderful work of literature, and LAIKA is fully committed to honoring it with an exceptional, groundbreaking film.”

Full post:

I haven’t heard of any recent news concerning Wildwood, but this official LAIKA tote bag HERE is very reminiscent to the illustrations of the book…

Lastly, I heard that Focus Features has a panel this Wednesday at Cinema Con, so it’s VERY likely they will announce the next LAIKA film! We’ll just have to wait and see!

Rest assured, I’ll keep you all posted!

In 1993, seven students from Cooper Union formed an artists’ collective called Art Club 2000 with the help of Colin de Land, who gave them an exhibition at his gallery, American Fine Arts. There, they showed “Commingle,” a series of staged photographs shot around New York City in which all the members of the collective wore clothing purchased at the Gap (and returned shortly thereafter because of the store’s lenient return policy).

Donald Trump, however, represents something much more radical. A president who plausibly owes his office at least in part to a clandestine intervention by a hostile foreign intelligence service? Who uses the bully pulpit to target individual critics? Who creates blind trusts that are not blind, invites his children to commingle private and public business, and somehow gets the unhappy members of his own political party either to endorse his choices or shrug them off? If this were happening in Honduras, we’d know what to call it. It’s happening here instead, and so we are baffled.

anonymous asked:

8 - McCree x reader? Love your blog loadsss!!

You’re so kind!!! Sorry this is a bit late, I saw a movie tonight @_@

“Come lay on top of me, I’m cold.” 

McCree paused in his flippant polishing of his Peacekeeper to look over at the bed juxtapose to the desk he and you shared as a workspace. Pieces of rifle and ammunition commingled with sketches of new technology and bioware notes he could not read but you could decipher with maximum efficiency. The room was, at least for him, average temperature yet there you were on your back, arms straight up in the air, and a pout without a doubt on your lips.

This only brought a smile to McCree’s own set of lips as he chuckled and stood up, laying his pistol down to stretch and approach you. “It ain’t that cold darlin’,” He teased you while he rested his knees on the bed, arms holding himself up on either side of your head as he grinned playfully, “Sure you ain’t just lookin for an excuse to get me in for the night?”

You responded by pushing yourself up, reaching around his neck, and dragging him down so that his head rested on your chest. He grunted and you grinned triumphantly, stroking his soft strands of brown hair while humming a playful, “Would you be complaining either way?”

“You know me better than to start complainin’ around you, darlin.” He declared back, accepting his fate as your personal heated blanket. His chest was heavy on your stomach, but you felt no room to complain as his arms went around you. The metal of his prosthetic was warm from the movements and steam it had been ventilating, leaving no part of him as cold as your own body. 

Leaning up, McCree placed a tender kiss to the bottom of your chin, his scruff tickling your neck and making you giggle. “My perfect blanket,” you declared delightfully.

“Should ask 76 to keep the heater off more often, then.” He teased back before shutting his eyes and allowing the both of you to drift off into the comfort of the night. 


growing up the things that informed my life and me the most were experiential. these were the moments that you could live inside. i remember there was a summer where guns n’ roses, terminator 2 and slalom water skiing all met up in my head. it was relentless in the way i thought about them and the way they commingled with each other. i can remember that summer and still in some ways go back and live inside of it because of the way it was so experiential and transformative for me. there is a texture to it. like pop culture was curated by some force that summer for me personally… BLOOM is meant to be an experiential idea- one that started as a conversation between us and bobby hundreds… just an idea. then it became a short film about how you can empower yourself, how falling/failing can make you stronger… but that conversation became bigger and we realized that we could create a film, stage uniforms, stage look, show design, and merchandise and have them all inform each other. so that we could make a moment that would be different than all the moments before it and after it- that you could take with you as a texture. in so many ways it is amazing the dialogue we can have and the art we can create and share with each other now. i love seeing the fan art from tv shows and movies i love… its that conversation that wasn’t truly possible in that summer to me- thats what i appreciate most about now. so if you are reading this, you are part of BLOOM.

sometimes you have to crack the pavement before you can BLOOM.


Get limited edition BLOOM merch

Directed by: Bobby Hundreds
Produced by: We Are Famous
Starring Scout Taylor-Compton

Étienne Carat     Victor Hugo, Paris     1876

Letters to the rich and to the poor, c.1884

I am asked what has been the lesson of my life, which I have learned in my years of living to bequeath as my most precious legacy to humanity. I reply that my soul has two messages of council, of promise and of threat to deliver. One to the rich and the other to the poor. The two contain the sum of human wisdom.


The poor cry out to the wealthy. The slaves implore the rulers. And as much now as in the days of Spartan Helots. I am one of them and I add my voice to that multitude that it may reach the ears of the rich. Who am I? One of the people. From whence come I? From the bottomless pit. How am I named? I am Wretchedness. My lords, I have something to say to you.

My lords, you are placed high. You have power, opulence, pleasure, the sun immovable at your zenith, unlimited authority, enjoyment undivided, a total forgetfulness of others. So be it. But there is something below you. Above you, perhaps. My lords I impart to you a novelty. The human race exists.

I am he who comes from the depths. My lords, you are the great and the rich. That is perilous. You take advantage of the night. But have a care; there is a great power, the morning. The dawn cannot be vanquished. It will come. It comes, it has within it the outbreak of irresistible day.

You, you are the dark clouds of privilege. Be afraid. The true master is about to knock at the door.

What is the father of privilege? Chance. What is his son? Abuse. Neither chance nor abuse is enduring. They have, both of them, an evil to-morrow.

I come to warn you. I come to denounce you in your own bliss. It is made out of the ills of the others. Your paradise is made out of the hell of the poor. I come to open before you, the wealthy, the grand assizes of the poor-that sovereign who is the slave, that convict who is the judge. I am bowed down under what I have to say. Where to begin? I know not. I have picked up in the cruel experience of suffering, my vast though struggling pleas. Now what shall I do with them? They overwhelm me and I throw them forth pell mell before me.

I am a diver and I bring up from the depths a pearl, the Truth. 1 speak because I know. I have experienced. I have seen. Suffering? No, the word is weak, O masters in bliss ! Poverty-I have grown up in it; winter-I have shivered in it; famine-I have tasted it; scorn-I have undergone it; the plague-I have had it; shame-I have drunk of it.

I felt it requisite that I should come among you. Why, because of my yesterday’s rags. It was in order that my voice might be raised among the satiated, that God commingled me with the hungered. Oh! have pity! Oh, you know not this fatal world, whereunto you believe that you belong. So high, you are outside of it. I will tell you what it is.

Abandoned an orphan, alone in boundless creation, I made my entry into this gloom you call society. The first thing I saw was law, under the form of a gibbet; the second was wealth- your wealth-under the form of a woman dead of cold and hunger; the third was luxury under the shape of a hunted man chained to prison walls; the fourth was your palaces beneath the shadow of which cowered the tramp.

The human race has been made by you slaves and convicts, you have made of this earth a dungeon. Light is wanting, air is wanting, virtue is wanting.

The workers of this world whose fruits you enjoy live in death. There are little girls who begin at eight by prostitution, and who end at twenty by old age. Who among you nave been to Newcastle-on-Tyne? There are men in the mines who chew coal, to fill their stomach and cheat hunger. Look you in Lancashire. Misery everywhere. Are you aware that the Harlech fishermen eat grass when the fishery fails? Are you aware that at Burton- Lazers there are still certain lepers driven into the woods, who are fired at if they come out of their dens? In Peckridge there are no beds in the hovels, and holes are dug in the ground for little children to sleep in; so that, in place of beginning with the cradle, they begin with the tomb.

Mercy, have mercy for the poor! Oh, I conjure you, have pity ! But no, you will not. I know ye all. Devils bred in hell, and dogs with hearts of stone. Upward to your golden throne for ages has gone the cry of misery, the groan of hunger, and the sob of despair, and ye heeded it not. What mercy hast thou given shall be meted out to you in turn.

Bear in mind that a series of kings armed with swords were interrupted by Cromwell and the axe.

Tremble! The incorruptible dissolutions draw near; the clipped talons push out again; the torn-out tongues take to flight, become tongues of flame scattered to the winds of darkness, and they howl in the Infinite. They who are hungry show their idle teeth, Paradises built over hells totter. There is suffering and that which is above leans over, and that which is below gapes open. The shadow asks to become light. The damned discuss the elect. It is the people who are oncoming. I tell you it is Man who ascends. It is the end that is beginning. It is the red dawning on Catastrophe. Ah! This society is false. One day, a true society must come. Then there will be no more lords; there will be free, living men. There will be no more wealth, there will be an abundance for the poor. There will be no more masters, but there will be brothers. They that toil shall have. This is the future. No more prostration, no more abasement, no more ignorance, no more wealth, no more beasts of burden, no more courtiers-but LIGHT.

To The Poor,

Shall I now speak to the poor after having in vain implored the rich? Yes, it is fitting. This then have I to say to the disinherited. Keep a watch upon your abominable jaw. There is one rule for the rich-to do nothing, and one for the poor- to say nothing. The poor have but one friend, silence. They should use but one monosyllable: yes. To confess and to concede-these are all the “rights” they have. “ Yes” to the judge. “Yes” to the king. The great if it so pleases them give us blows with a stick; I have had them; it is their prerogative, and they lose nothing of their greatness in cracking our bones. Let us worship the king’s scepter which is the first among sticks.

If a poor man is happy he is the pickpocket of happiness. Only the rich and noble are happy by right. The rich man is he who being young has the rights of old age; being old, the lucky chances of youth; vicious, the respect of good people; a coward, the command of the stout-hearted; doing nothing, the fruits of labor.

Carriages, poor slaves, exist. The lord is inside; the people are under the wheel; the wise man makes room.

The people fight. Whose is the glory? They pay. Whose is the magnificence? The king’s. And the people like to be rich in this fashion. Our ruler, King or Croesus, receives from the poor a crown piece and renders back to the poor a farthing. How generous he is! The colossal looks up to the pygmy superstructure. How tall the manikin is! He is on my back. A dwarf has an excellent method of being higher than a giant; it is to perch himself upon the other’s shoulders. But that the giant should let him do it, there’s the odd part of it; and that he should admire the baseness of the dwarf, there’s the stupidity. Human ingenuousness.

The equestrian statue reserved for kings alone is an excellent type of royalty. Let us be frank with words. The capitalist who steals the reward of labor is a king as well as the man of blood. The king mounts himself on the horse. The horse is the people. Sometimes this horse transfigures himself by degrees. At the beginning he is an ass; at the end he is a lion. Then he throws his rider to the ground and we have 1643 in England and 1789 in France; and sometimes devours him, in which case we have in England 1649 and in France 1793.

That the lion can again become a jackass, this is surprising but a fact.

What happiness to be again ridden and beaten and starved. What happiness to work forever for bread and water ! What happiness to be free from the delusions that cake is good and life other than misery! Was there anything more crazy than those ideas? Where should we be if every vagabond had his rights? Imagine everybody governing! Can you imagine a city governed by the men who built it? They are the team, not the coachman. What a godsend is a rich man who takes charge of everything. Surely he is generous to take the trouble for us! And then, he was brought up to it; he knows what it is; it is his business. A guide is necessary for us. Being poor we are ignorant; being ignorant we are blind; we need a guide. But why are we ignorant? Because it must be so. Ignorance is the guardian of Virtue! He who is ignorant is innocent! It is not our duty to think, complain or reason. These truths are uncontestable. SOCIETY reposes on them. What is “society”? Misery for you if you support it. Be reasonable, poor man. you were made to be a slave.

Not to be a slave is to DARE to Do.

Victor Hugo

No Shay-Delphine AU update, but...

There’s no fic update today and possibly next week, if I need to give myself a little buffer room and distance (by which I mean I like coming back to edit a section at least a week after I wrote it so that it looks and reads differently), but I had a very silly conversation with @jaybear1701 last night that she thought I should share based mostly on setups like this in Orphan Black:

Keep reading

Ezio/Leonardo Fic list


The man I met at my sister s wedding 

Written after the prompt: We met at a weeding and I thought you were one of my distant cousins but apparently no one knows you . How do you get in and will you dance with me. Ezio/Leonardo 

Beginning of the Ocean

Leonardo was never a strong swimmer. And yet, he seemed drawn to the ocean in some way. He would walk along the sandy beaches by his home at dusk, stopping to stare into the void a while. The blonde would stand still for minutes at a time, letting the cold water lap at his ankles. Many people walked past him, but he paid them no mind. All he did was stare. Stare, and think.                                 “Something’s out there.” And he would find it.

Of ghosts and scares

Ezio drags Leonardo to go see a horror movie, even if Leonardo is terribly scared of them

Trip to Amboise

Leonardo is working in Amboise as a university art teacher, Ezio is still in Florence with two part-time jobs. Seeing each other becomes hard, but nothing can separate them. (Ezio/Leonardo, modern!AU)

The Plague

Kink Meme Fill: Modern day AU with bubonic plague, chaos, and one immune researcher. Inspiration from “28 Days Later”.


Leonardo and Ezio have been best friends they were children. But now that they share the same roof, Leonardo finds his patience dwindling when it comes to Ezio being around other females. Why should he keep letting himself get hurt over it? 

Group Therapy

Ezio, Leo, and Rosa in a group therapy session. Things do not go well (Crack!fic)


Leo likes Dr. Seuss. Ezio doesn’t.

Ever After

Crossover with the movie Ever After, with old!Leo and Ezio.


Finding humanity lacking, an artist pursues perfection in his work. The Pygmalion myth, by way of Assassin’s Creed.

The Colour of Magic

Leonardo never thought of himself as someone special, until the day he discovered his hidden powers. All of a sudden he was in high demand – especially from evil sorcerers like Cesare Borgia. Will Leonardo be able to survive as Borgia’s captive with the help of his new friends?

The Bond of Brotherhood

Leonardo da Vinci is wickedly clever, amazingly talented, surprisingly devious, and always there to support Ezio in his endeavors, no matter how dubiously moral. It’s never mattered before that he’s an omega, or that Ezio is an alpha. It still shouldn’t matter, except that Leonardo smells so good, and Ezio knows that there’s no one else for him to spend his heat with…

Suburban Neighbors drabble series:

  1. Suburban Neighbors  Leonardo may accidentally spot Ezio walking naked in his kitchen. Because these two are dorks.
  2. Uptown Funk  Leonardo catches Ezio dancing by his mailbox.
  3. A Favor  Ezio has a favor to ask of Leonardo.
  4. The Incident  A first kiss and the incident that follows.
  5. Sketchbook  Ezio finds Leonardo’s sketchbook.
  6. French girls  Leonardo wants to paint Ezio.
  7. Midnight Phone Call Ezio is determined to comfort Leonardo.

Non-Canon/AU Ezio/Leonardo as sideparing/not mainparing

A Day in the Life of a Mobster

Sometimes it’s good to be a gangsta

Altaïr’s Army

That one Hogwarts AU complete with mischief, kissing and the occasional hex.

A Pound of Flesh (VAMPIRE AU)

“You have a touch of melodrama in you, Altezza.”

Wind from the gathering storm whistled through the cracks and rent windows of the vacant church, the shadows long and deep from the light of the lantern on the bench at the pew. Lorenzo kept an iron hold on his instinctive fear, willing his fingers away from the silver dagger hidden under his robes. The church had been empty when he had arrived; now a man was leaning against the pulpit, long fingers folded under his chin, his smile amused, much of his aquiline face swallowed by the shadow of a white cowl.

and history books forgot about us

Shaun isn’t an idiot. He is good at connecting the dots, like he imagines the men who thought up the constellations–seeing the whole picture in the lines between the pin points of stars.                                                                                             So it’s pretty easy to figure out that Ezio is head over heels for Leonardo.             It’s a bit harder to realize he may be smitten too.

Never Have I Ever

Supernatural/AC crossover where the assassins are brothers in Desmond’s time and have commingled with the hunters. (It’s a big AU, don’t ask lol)                       They end up playing strip!Never Have I Ever, hilarity ensues.

Just Once

A modern AU set in the year 2012. Story started being written pre Revelations. After years of running from the Order, Desmond is finally discovered working at a bar in New York City. He’s reluctant to go back to being told what to do, and reluctant to leave one of his favourite surly customers, NYU history major Shaun Hastings. Altair is caught in the middle of what his Grandmaster, Al Mualim, and what his recovering partner, Malik, want from him. Ezio is just busy trying to charm as many people in Manhattan as possible. Che sorpresa!                      

Main pairing is Desmond/Shaun, with lots of Altair/Malik and some Ezio/Leonardo to top things off.

10 Things Malik Hates About Altair

Desmond Miles is new in school and he has no idea how things work, but he wants Kadar Al-Sayf and he will do anything to get him. Even have some rich idiot pay the scariest guy in the school to take out Kadar’s older brother so they can date.

Drawing Battle Lines

In a world where everybody is born submissive or Dominant, Altair struggles to find his one true place. Working as a cop in a department surrounded by Dominants doesn’t really help. When assigned to the latest case, Altair doesn’t realize yet that it will change him and his life forever. (Omega Verse shenanigans)

Writers are people so after you finished reading a fic even if it´s a one-shot or smut leave them a comment/review

I open a box filled with fragments, “lost events.” Inside folders, pressed between leaves, I find perfect quatrains beside barely legible lists of words held together with straight pins… I am under the spell of traces, strange comminglings…
—  Mara L. Werner, “Most Arrows: Autonomy and Intertextuality in Emily Dickinson’s Late Fragments”
It is fair to say that within the particular symbol system of this gospel [of Philip] the fact that Jesus and Mary Magdalene are mentioned as kissing one another on the mouth is clearly to be understood as an indication that theirs is an engendering, begetting, fully incarnate, spiritually procreative friendship through which the sacred spirit flows. Their kiss represents a deep and intimate commingling of their beings on both a physical and spiritual plane.
—  Cynthia Bourgeault, The Meaning of Mary Magdalene

I’ve been seeing a lot of post about how A.D. Could be Spencer’s twin and/or Bethany Young. Many of which go to say it would be a interesting plot but would still lack reasoning as to why A.D would go after Emily, Aria, and Hanna. But guys there is (kinda) a connection. We know the DiLaurentis/Hastings/Drakes are all commingled because of Peter Hastings. We know Byron Montgomery cheated on his wife (eventually resulting in divorce). We know Hanna’s parents are divorced and that when her father finally comes back it’s to tell her he’s getting married (which seemed kind of fast?) so what if he was also cheating? Now, I love Wayde and have no reason to believe he cheated so I’m still not sure how the Fields play into this. But who ever A.D. Is obviously knows all these (not so secrets) secrets and has all along while also realizing that the kids are, in around about way, allowing what happen to them happen to their friends. OR they are on this like “if you come from evil you are evil” kick and decided to punish the kids because the parents had already done their damage.

Not sure where I’m going with this but just a thought after the last few episodes