occupy all the places

You Have Chosen Poorly

I’m playing the Mines of Phandelver campaign with five of my friends via Fantasy Grounds and four of them are totally green to DnD but wanted to give it a try.  (I figured pre-made characters would make it a little simpler on them while they learned the base mechanics.)  As such, I try to be a challenging but forgiving DM while they learn the ropes.

During the course of their adventure, I realized that my players have a bad habit of stacking encounters on top of each other.  The previous week, they managed to stack a grand total of five encounters in one encounter in Cragmaw Castle.  This particular week, they were coming up against a hard-set deadline (because people had work the next morning) and they’d already stacked two large encounters on top of each other while trying to set a trap for what I tried to clue in to the thief (my sister who’s the only one who’s ever played DnD before besides me) was four hobgoblins, not normal goblins like they’d been fighting, but she didn’t pick up on it.  One of the hobgoblins had alerted another encounter that was already on alert from the previous week (the only reason I didn’t have them join the previous five-encounter-dogpile was because of another hard deadline).

So the thief has been nearly killed this session and is getting a little tired of getting wailed on.  So she decides to ninja her way out of there to leave the rest of the enemies to the newbies while she goes hide and loot some random room.  She has a few options: to the north is a lot of nothing, to the southwest is the kitchen the second group of enemies just vacated, to the east is the now empty place the hobgoblins had previously occupied.  All would’ve been good choices.

She chooses the southwest tower.  The worst possible choice.

Having rolled a 21 for stealth, she gets in through the door and I start laughing hysterically.  I have to take a moment to mute my microphone as I howl with laughter and don’t want to blow out eardrums.  I come back online and reveal the one solitary token in the room: an owlbear.

Me (while laughing): “You enter the room and find an owlbear chewing on a bone.”

Human Fighter (Greataxe wielder) who has never seen a token bigger than one square: “WHAT?!”

Thief: “I FLATTEN MYSELF AGAINST THE WALL.”

I have to mute the mic another two minutes while I laugh hysterically.

The other players manage to finish off the other enemies but I don’t release them from initiative since we still had potentially one more enemy now.  Fortunately, she manages to stealth her way back out and shut the door without being noticed.  I give her Inspiration for staying in character in the first place.

And that was how my newbie players learned the age-old adage “Never split the party.”

Billboard: Niall Horan Braces for Stardom Outside One Direction, With Advice From Justin Bieber & The Eagles

When Niall Horan decided to move from London to Los Angeles in early 2016, it’s no surprise that he chose a house in Laurel Canyon, the epicenter of ’60s folk-rock culture. Horan was the one ­toting a guitar in One Direction, the British boy-band juggernaut that was just then going on a hiatus, and he’s got the soul of a singer-songwriter: He’s charismatic, witty and sensitive, but also easygoing and no-nonsense. Viewed alongside his bandmates – born rock star Harry Styles, “sensible one” Liam Payne, “funny one” Louis Tomlinson, moody R&B prince Zayn Malik – Horan, 23, is sort of like the middle brother: the most ­approachably handsome, the second-most popular across social media (29 million Twitter followers; 19 million on Instagram) and the most likely to lust after a gig at the historic Los Angeles rock club The Troubadour. “Playing for, like, 500 people. What more do you want?” says Horan. “I’ve had some good moments with screaming ­teenagers, but I like when the room is completely dead. It’s a ­different kind of respect. People are actually listening.”

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8

 kate’s tv otps: 18/100

↳kara danvers & james olsen 

↳ supergirl 2015-

↳ ❝barry was explaining to us that there’s an infinate number of earths, and they all vibrate at different speeds, so they can occupy the same place but never actually come into contact with each other, the point is if two of these infinate earths can manage to find a way to vibrate at the same speed, maybe there’s a chance they can be together.

The kiss had turned into pleasure itself. It actually happened. It trifled with death, with the horror of the thought. There was no other kiss after. It alone occupies the place of all desire, is at once its emptiness and its immensity, its body and its soul.
—  Marguerite Duras, Blue Eyes, Black Hair
{PART 5} Who Are You? // Im Jaebum

Originally posted by sugaglos

Pairing: Jaebum x Reader (ft. GOT7)

Genre: Angst, Sad

Summary: It’s been 6 months since the road accident, and as Jaebum + the rest of GOT7 talk about all the good times to come in the future - Jaebum can’t help but let self hatred consume him. Until…something unthinkable happens.

Please note that this scenario contains mentions of cheating, road/car accidents, hospitals and comas.

This scenario also contains a text message imagine ^_^

{Part 1} //{Part 4} {Part 5} {Part 6}


Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months since the night you had been hit by the car on the street just outside where you had followed Jaebum and the woman he had been seeing behind your back – the woman who Jaebum had been sharing his affections with in the months leading up to the tragic accident.

Since that night, Jaebum – against the wishes of the rest of GOT7, JYP and the hospital staff – had not left your side other than to use the private shower and bathroom in your hospital room. He was grateful to the nurses who allowed him to bring his own futon to lie at the side of your bed; however he didn’t sleep much anyway. Every small noise, every small stir was significant to Jaebum’s psyche as he bolted awake at any tiny noise he heard in the hopes that it was you coming around – in the hopes that you were finally waking up.

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abbadon-abandon  asked:

Light! (For the headcannon meme)

Sure thing Abbo, have some hcs about Lighto and the Yagami family!

Light Yagami HCs:

1. He briefly considered getting involved in swimming rather than tennis. He chose tennis because he likes the mental challenge of reading his opponent. Light also appreciates the one-on-one sort of competition.


2. Before Light learned how, Sachiko often enjoyed reading folkloric stories to him. Light’s favorite was The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter


3. Light was very quiet as an infant but extremely energetic and inquisitive as a child. 


4. Initially he was disappointed to have a younger sibling, but Light soon became increasingly protective of her. He would often ask Sachiko if he could help with feeding or bathing baby Sayu. As adolescents, he consoled her when Soichiro and Sachiko had a quarrel.


5. Light shows affection to Sayu by ruffling her hair. He shows affection to Sachiko by cooking with her. He shows affection to Soichiro by being the ideal ‘man of the house’ in his absence.


6. Light never got in trouble at school. However, he did fantasize quite often about skipping class in his later teen years.


7. Light started to ask Soichiro about work and criminal cases once he was old enough to understand that his father’s job was dangerous. He didn’t like to see Sachiko or Sayu worried.


8. Light didn’t have much of an aptitude for artistic pursuits. He could replicate or echo a certain style, but was unable to construct one of his own.


9. As a child, Light mostly got in trouble just for his curiosity leading him out of sight or somewhere dangerous. Light was frequently caught being in places he shouldn’t have been around.


10. His room was never very messy when he was a child; Light liked that all of his possessions had their own place to occupy. 

The Daughter Of Thomas Shelby

Summary: Thomas was intimate with a girl he met before the war. He comes back five years later learning that she has left Bermingham with his child. He looks for them for years, but eventually gives up as he has to start focusing on the family he does know about. His daughter, (which I named Fiona), comes to Small Heath in search of her father.

On the rainy day of that particular Monday afternoon, Fiona Shelby checked into a motel located in Birmingham, a foreign place to Fiona but it was her mother’s home. She shuffled into the room she paid for, shrugging off her wet coat and hat, letting her long locks fall over her shoulders. She shut the door behind her and lit a candle next to the bed. The sun was now setting, and Fiona was already exhausted from her travels. The search for her father would have to wait another day as she opened her bag containing what little clothes she had and took out a small bag of food. She began eating what she had left, her blue eyes darting around the dimly lit motel room. The bed she sat on creaked with every movement and the walls were slowly decaying with the wallpaper crumbling.

Fiona put away her food, and placed her bag of belongings onto the floor seeing as the cheap motel didn’t have a closet or drawers, only a bed and a bedside table with candles and matches littering it, and toiletries at the far corner in a small room. She shrugged off her shoes and laid back against the bed. She curled into the blankets, shivering from the cold. She thought about what tomorrow would bring, and if her father was alive. She wouldn’t have come if she hadn’t had anywhere else to go. She spent what little money she had on the train ticket here, the lift, and the motel for a couple of nights. Her food was running low and her money was now gone. If her father was half the man her mother told her he was, than he would at least give her food and send her on her way.

Fiona was really hoping to just know him as her mother’s side of the family disowned them for reasons unknown to Fiona. She just wanted a friend in her father. She didn’t like being estranged from the only family she knew and since she could remember she has wanted to know him. All she had of him was his name. No more, no less. Her mother never even described what he looked like, not even when she told Fiona to look for him before she passed. Her mother said he was a good man from a hard working family, he was young when Fiona was conceived, and that’s why her mother apparently left Birmingham for Sheffield. Fiona shut her eyes, trying to rid her nerves and thoughts of her father. She fell asleep instantly, exhaustion catching up with her.

The next morning, Fiona ate the biscuits left at her door by the owner of the motel and bathed in cold water. She styled her hair neatly and picked out a dark blue blouse with a brown skirt. She put on her grey coat with her hair cascading down her back. She owned no makeup, but her youth didn’t require it. She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her bag before leaving the motel. She had no idea how she was going to find her father in such an overcrowded city, but she prayed that at least one person recognized her father’s name. She began walking down a busy street, following a crowd of people into the centre of the city. Fiona wanted to ask the passbyers of Thomas Shelby, but her nerves got the best of her and she instead walked into a shop.

Fiona had asked the shopkeeper of Thomas Shelby, and his guarded and frantic response startled Fiona and she was suddenly being pushed out into the street. She looked behind herself in shock as the shopkeeper shut the door in her face. She gaped at the door, before leaving to the shop next to it. As the hours grew, Fiona began to realize that people either feared her father, or thought she was joking when she told them she was his daughter. The last place she decided to look was at a pub at the other end of the city. She walked tiredly into the business, watching as only men were occupying the place. They all turned towards her suddenly, eyeing the young girl with hungry eyes. She ignored them, clearing her throat slightly as she walked to the bartender that also stopped his work to look at her. He was tall, and his age showed through the lines on his face. The chatter of the business stared again, and everyone had turned away a second later.

“Leave little lady,” the bartender said as he picked up a glass. “This ain’t no place for a girl like you.” The man picked up a rag and began drying the cup in his hand. Fiona leaned closer into the bar, as to not let anyone hear her.

“I’m looking for my father, please sir. You must know him, maybe he comes into your business.” Fiona looked at the man pleadingly and he paused his drying. He set the rag over his shoulder and put the cup down. He walked towards where the girl was standing, placing his knuckles onto the counter in front of him.

“This ain’t my business, but alright then,” he gave in. “What’s the blokes name?”

Fiona swallowed harshly, hoping the man wouldn’t have the same reaction as everyone else in the city. “Thomas Shelby.”

The man let out a cackle, backing away from the girl as his eyes glinted with amusement. “Yeah right,” he laughed bitterly. “You better not be goin’ around tellin’ people lies, little lady. Now get goin’!” The man’s sarcastic smile dropped and he pulled the rag off his shoulder wih force. Fiona stared up at him pleadingly.

“I’m not lying, sir!” She said truthfully, but the man just waved a hand. She sighed, and turned on her heels. Fiona didn’t understand why everyone kept turning her away, was it so hard for them to just point in the direction the man might live. She looked down at the floor as she reached the doors, but they opened suddenly. She stepped back, letting the three men in front of her pass. They barely glanced her way as they walked towards the counter. Fiona left after that, walking towards where she could see the sign of the motel in the air. It was a good walk from where she was, and she was sure it would start raining again before she even made it back. Fiona knew she would just have to try and find her father tomorrow, and this time she would have to ask the customers of the shops rather than the shopkeepers.

“Harry, serve us a scotch will ya,” Arthur said as he sat himself down. His brothers, Finn and John sitting to his right. Harry nodded, bringing out three cups and began serving their drinks in front of them.

“Want to know something funny?” Harry looked at the men in front of him. Arthur shrugged as he brought out a cigarette while his brothers gulped down their drinks. “A girl just came in here, saying she was Tommy’s girl.” Harry chuckled and shook his head. John’s forehead creased.

“Grace won’t like that one bit,” John said sarcastically. Harry laughed quietly, shaking his head again.

“No, I meant his daughter.”

The three men stopped their movements, looking at Harry with raised eyebrows. They immediately thought back to Elizabeth, Thomas’s first love. They knew she carried a baby and left before they returned from war. Finn remembered her briefly as he was just a child when this happened.

“What?” Arthur asked, completely caught off guard. “Where is she?”

“I sent her on her way,” Harry shrugged, pointing a hand at the door. “You passed her on your way in.” The men simutaneously looked at the door behind them, as if the girl would be standing there.

“How old was she?” Finn asked, trying to put two and two together. He remembered Tommy searching for Elizabeth and his child for years, but Tommy had to give up finding them in order to save the family’s name.

“No older than seventeen,” Harry shrugged once again. He looked at the confused faces in front of him, his own features casting with confusion. “She was lying right? Maybe she just wanted some money.” Harry suggested. The three brothers looked at each other, before they all stood up abruptly. They left before leaving an explanation to Harry and climbed into the family car.

“Do you think the girl might be Elizabeth’s?” John asked Arthur as Arthur sped down the street.

“Has to be,” Arthur responded quietly. His little brother might have closure after all, if he let this slip from their hands Tommy might not have his oppurtunity again.

“Is that her?” Finn pointed from the backseat at a girl just down the road. He had seen her as they walked into the Garrisson when she was leaving, taking note of her dark hair.

The other brothers didn’t respond as Arthur pulled the car to a stop right next to her. The girl looked up at the strange three men, and they saw her eyes riddle with fear.

“Heard you was looking for Thomas Shelby?” The girl stopped walking. She looked at them, silently nodding. “Why?” Arthur asked.

“I’m his daughter,” Fiona answered simply.

“What’s your mum’s name then?” John asked, and Arthur lightly hit his chest. John shrugged at his brother and turned back to Fiona, waiting for an answer.

“Elizabeth,” she said finally. “My mother said she knew him before the Great War.”

The brothers all turned to each other, they found her.

“Get in, then.” John opened his door. They waited patiently for Fiona, but she stared at the men wearily.

“Get in, love. We’re just takin’ you to him.” Arthur said. Fiona didn’t know if she could trust the men and her eyes drifted to the motel sign not far from her. She sighed, knowing that they could be telling the truth. She walked around the car, aware of the three pair of eyes that watched her. She climbed into the backseat and an older man smiled at her.

“I’m Finn, I’m Tommy’s brother.”

Fiona stared at the man, staring at her own uncle. She never knew if she had one on her mother’s side. The girl smiled. “I’m Fiona.”

“Fiona?” John looked back at her from his seat. “I’m also Tommy’s brother, I’m John and this is Arthur, the oldest.” Fiona smiled and nodded at them too as she leaned back into her seat. She tried to remember where they were going in case the men were lying. She placed her hands in her lap, fidgeting with her fingers as she bit her lip anxiously.

“You have his eyes,” Finn said after a couple minutes of silence. Fiona turned to him, not quite knowing what to say. “But your hair’s dark like your mother’s.” Fiona just nodded.

“He’s been lookin’ for ya,” Arhur said, turning his body to face the girl briefly. “Thought you should know,” he turned back around. Fiona looked down at her lap, covering the smile that formed on her features. Her father looked for her, it made her heart beam with joy.

“We’re here,” one of the men said as they came to a stop in front of their home. John helped Fiona out of the car and she followed closely behind them as they entered. A woman sat at the table in a kitchen, her eyes peering at Fiona curiously.

“Who’s this?” She asked. Her nephews just smiled and Arthur opened two green doors Fiona hadn’t even realized were there. Fiona looked away from the older woman and at the crowded secret room. People ran around yelling and fussing. Some were at desks and others were standing outisde.

“Everyone out!” Arthur yelled. Everyone stopped, and looked at the Shelby in confusion. “Now!” Arthur said after no one moved, less than a couple seconds later, men began scurrying away and leaving the premises quickly. Fiona watched them go, her eyebrows raising at how fearful they looked. The woman stood from her chair, looking at her nephew in anger.

“What are you doing, Arthur?” The woman asked as she approached him. Arthur didn’t respond as a door slamming shut caught all of their attention. Everyone turned to a man standing with a cigarette lit in his mouth, his blue eyes scanning the empty room. He looked at his brothers for an explanation and John walked forward, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder.

Thomas,” John said. Fiona’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at her father. He was clean shaven and did have her bright blue eyes. His hair was styled neatly to one side and he wore an expensive suit. Fiona could feel herself begin to get nervous, and she tried to hide behind Finn’s and Arthur’s taller figures. “We found her,” John said. Thomas looked at his brother, still waiting for an explanation as he brought the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing smoke into the air.

Who?” Thomas asked, his voice sounding impatient.

Arthur suddenly gripped onto Fiona’s wrist and tugged her forward. Aunt Polly and Thomas looked at the teenager in confusion, Thomas just now realizing a stranger was here. Thomas looked at her, wondering why his brother was bringing her towards him.

“Thomas,” Arthur said as they stopped in front of him. “Meet your daughter.”

Thomas dropped the cigarette he was holding, and Fiona watched it fall to the floor. She heard the woman behind her gasp and bring her hands to her mouth. Fiona looked back up at her father, watching as he scanned her face for familiarity. He suddenly snapped out of whatever trance he was in, bringing his eyes into a cold stare. Fiona knew he was going to turn her away, maybe he didn’t believe her.

“What’s your name?” Thomas asked. Fiona couldn’t believe she was having a conversation with her actual father, something she never knew she would be able to do.

“Fiona,” the girl answered. Everyone was startled when Thomas stumbled back, flashbacks of him telling Elizabeth that he liked the name Fiona coming back to him. He remembered Elizabeth clear as day and now that he looked at the girl in front of him, he could see the similarities between both Elizabeth when she was a teenager and Fiona.

“Fiona,” Thomas repeated. “Fiona,” he said again this time reaching for the girl. She was surprised when he pulled her into his arms, hugging her to his chest. She hugged back, closing her eyes as the men and woman around her began cheering. She heard the woman crying as Thomas released her. He cupped her hair into his hands as he pressed his palms against the sides of her head. He stared down at his daughter, his child of whom he only had dreamed before that he would meet. The pair embraced again and Thomas stepped away when she heard a sniffle. He looked down at the crying girl.

“I can’t believe I’m hugging my father.” She said, tears spilling from her large blue eyes. Thomas and the rest laughed, small tears forming in Thomas’s own eyes.

“Fix her some tea,” Thomas told his aunt as he turned to face her. She nodded and quickly walked into the kitchen. “Come,” Thomas told the girl as he handed her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes as she followed him into the office he was in before she arrived. Thomas walked her to a chair and she sat as he walked to the opposite side of the desk.

“Tell me,” Thomas said eagerly. “Where have you been? How old are you? Has your mother come with you?”

Fiona laughed, her tears coming to a hault as her hands dropped to her lap. “I’m from Sheffield.” She answered his first question. Thomas nodded, wondering if he had even checked Sheffield but he probably hadn’t as he has no connections there. “I’m sixteen,” Fiona said. Thomas nodded again, but his heart broke. He missed sixteen years of his daughters life. “Mother hasn’t come with me.”

“Why?” Thomas’s eyebrows furrowed and he leaned forward. Why would Elizabeth send a sixteen-year old out into the world by herself?

“She’s passed,” Fiona sighed. Thomas leaned back in his seat, sadness washing over him. “Months ago, from an untreatable disease.” Fiona tried not to become sad herself. Her mother was everyhting to her, they only had each other for the past sixteen years.

“Where are you living now?” Thomas asked, clearing his throat as to not show he was phased by the death of his first love.

“The motel just a couple streets from here,” Fion said. She looked at Thomas who pursed his lips.

“That won’t do.” Thomas shook his head. “I’ll take you to get your things, your my daughter. I won’t let you live in some motel.” Thomas looked at Fiona, eyes glinting with joy when she smiled. Her smile reminded him of Elizabeth.

“Thank you,” Fiona gasped. “So much,” she smiled even wider.

“You family, Fiona. I won’t have my family living on the streets.” Thomas reassured the teenager. Fiona got more that day than what she came for. She got to know her father as he years passed and the weeks grew. They grew close, bonding mainly over horses and Elizabeth. Thomas kept Fiona away from the family business and got her a proper education, the finest that a woman could recieve. He was able to bless her wedding and watch her grow a family of her own. Fiona never left Birmingham, and she wished on many nights that her mother never had too.

anonymous asked:

I'm a Linguistics student at your almamater and my non-Linguistics student boyfriend, as lovely as he is, seems to be a bit misguided in the fact that he is absolutely convinced that it is possible to one day invent a language which completely eliminates all ambiguity. I pointed him in the direction of pragmatics, arguing that no invented language could eliminate something like pragmatic ambiguity, but he seems absolutely convinced that it could and *should* be eliminated. What do you think?

If we were really better off without ambiguity in our languages, we wouldn’t have it. But you should ask him to define ambiguity first. I gather he probably wouldn’t distinguish between the different types of ambiguity—e.g. syntactic vs. lexical. But if you go down that rabbit hole, you’ll quickly find there’s no bottom. By that I mean we couldn’t really have lexical items if we wanted to be certain that we only ever referred to unique objects, people, or processes. Take a word like “man”. Terribly vague. It could be anybody that fills a certain number of characteristics (and these characteristics, incidentally, are not anything that can be absolutely determined. Not all people agree what those characteristics are). So a sentence like “I talked to a man yesterday” is specific for me, in that I’m referring to some specific man I talked to, in my estimation, but the word is not. The word is ambiguous. If you go that route, you may as well get rid of all human nouns and replace them all with unique identifiers (note that names aren’t unique enough for this).

And then moving on to objects, consider that all objects are situated in space and time. Even if you’re talking about a ball bearing manufactured in the best ball bearing factory in the world which ensures that every single ball bearing is identical as possible, each one will only ever occupy one specific place in time and space. So they’re all unique, and each will require its own unique designation—with a time stamp (recall how different we humans are depending on the time you find us. Like I don’t care how tough you are, me at 20 can beat you up at 1 year old. Boxer? Weightlifter? Soldier? Don’t care. MY 20 YEAR OLD SELF WILL TAKE ON YOUR ONE YEAR OLD SELF AND PUT YOU IN THE GROUND).

And think about actions—like the verb “kick”. We know what it means. But has there ever been any two kicks that were identical?! How imprecise that we just have one word for all these different types of motions! And yet we tolerate it!

And don’t even get me started on modifiers like “hot” or “red” or “acceptable”. Like “acceptable”, really?! Just…no.

So yeah, talking about eliminating ambiguity is misunderstanding the nature of…everything, I guess. You can only eliminate ambiguity within a specific domain of experience. The result probably wouldn’t be too useful, though.

For an attempt at this, see John Quijada’s Ithkuil, which is a great language, but which picks its battles. Even so, though, note that John isn’t pushing this as a language that everyone should learn and use in their daily life. That’s not the point. It’s a philosophical experiment—and a good one—but it’s not supposed to be a chatting language you use as a primary means of communication.

“These structures and roads are old, but his distinctive use of light allows them to exist in a surreal and futuristic space. They’re photographs of things from the past, but at their core, they seem to occupy a place and a time that never happened at all” (photo: Noel Kerns Photography)

Unofficial Home

Pairing: Luke & Female Reader (only because of the pet name princess other than that it’s genderless) 

Words: 1200+

Warning: sfw 

I’m making this into a series based on Luke getting his new apartment bc you guys don’t know how happy i am he’s settling down in Sydney !!!

Masterlist | Feedback 

(gif isn’t mine) 

Part two

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“Oh auntie, what did you do with me! You told about me to our neighbor Mr. Merx. Now he started blackmail me! He sends me e-mails, in wich calls me "my Babe”, “my Princess”, “my Sweetie” and threatens to say about me to all the inhabitants of your town!“

"Oh dear, and how he should to name you yet!” she smiled. “Look at yourself! Delicate cute young lady!”

“But, you made it with me! You forcibly feminized me! And moved me in this damn town!”

“I saved you from a sinful life in a big city! Remember yourself 1 year ago: a rude, impudent 18 year old boy who had only alcohol, whores and debauchery on his mind! The Lord told me that I can only save your soul by completely changing you. And this town is blessed by the Lord!”

“In fact of the matter! If the local hypocrites will know that I’m a guy, I will not have fared so well!”

“Well, dear, at first, right to say "I WAS a guy”, at second if you will act yourself like a virtuous young lady should, none of the pious town dwellers will never doubt, you were borned as a female.“

"You know, that last Sunday, the first time you took me to church, I had to sit on the back pew with Mr. Merx, since you went ahead and all the places near you were occupied. But you maybe don’t know, why I asked you to give me a white blouse, a pleated skirt, conservative shoes on heels and nude pantyhose though I always resisted of wearing pantyhose and it was my first time when I put on them. He forced me! When he has seen me wear to church this clothes, he whispered me: "Dear, you look like a real godly young lady!” and sit with me. He said me: “Cross your ankles and listen to pastor.” Oh auntie, during the service I noticed that he watchs on my ankles And I swear to you, I saw that he was excited!“

"Oh, you looked at the male crotch, and did not listen to the pastor! Though it says, that you started think as a woman. And you attracted by mature men like Mr. Merx. He was right. We must accelerate the process of your mental transformation. You need a strong, but virtuous mature man, who will take you further along the path of godly femininity. And the earthly goal of every virtuous Christian young lady is to be a wife and mother!”

“What?! You all knew! It’s you who brought us together! And now you want me to become his wife!”

“Yes dear! Not only a wife, my dear, but also a mother. He is a widower and has a baby boy of 2 years. The boy needs a mother. And Mr. Merx needs a wife. I think when he will fill you with his seed every night, such embarrassment with him will not happen again and you will come to church only for the sake of prayer and gratitude to the Lord that He connected your hearts. But your correction is possible only in this way! This will be the complete atonement of your former sins! Yes, and about pantyhose, from this day you will wear them constantly. Firstly, they protect your female modesty, and secondly your future husband likes them  … I’m sure soon you will become a real virtuous Christian lady!”

Look, I’m not trying to impose on your space or anything - but if we’re being realistic, the seating in here is limited as is. My feet are killing me and I need a place to sit, so can I just … sit here?” There was only one occupied place at the table, after all - and while she wasn’t one to just ask, she wasn’t exaggerating. Between spending all night staking out a village for The Order and having to work all day afterwards, she was functioning on four cups of coffee, and hell did she ever need another one.

A Different Kind of Game (Yami/Seto)

Friendly competition does not really satisfy Kaiba - turns out that a crushing defeat is not the only way in which Yami can subdue him.

This is basically “Kaiba not so secretly wants his one true rival to step on him - The Fic”.

Warnings for masochistic kinks, light bondage, allusions to Shadow Games. nsfw for kinky but clothed sexual activities. 

PS: Can be read as ace&aro!Seto (and Yami, if you wanna). Because ace!Seto being turned on by kinks (and card games) is my jam. Also Yami utterly wrecking Seto is my one true love.

Excerpt below, the rest is on Ao3! :>

-

The room was only dimly lit by the light of the setting sun, but the two opponents had been too absorbed by their game to notice. They had been playing chess all evening, but the pieces and the board that had been sitting between them on the couch were scattered on the floor now, entirely forgotten.

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kevin920  asked:

I have two questions, What do you think about Unitarian Universalism and do you think special needs people and children should stay away from religion?

With respect to tolerance and religious freedom, I’ve no problem with Unitarian Universalism (UU). With respect to epistemology, I have a major problem with UU. UU allows people adhering to different religions or no religion at all to occupy a space peacefully and respect the place and importance of religious or non-religious views in other people’s lives. However, this notion of everyone being entitled to seek their own personal truth simply doesn’t appeal to me because truth simply doesn’t work that way. There’s no such thing as my truth, yours, his, hers, and the next individual’s. There is, in every respect, a truth or truths or matters of fact pertinent to the object in question, and our perspectives don’t change that. Even Nietzsche’s perspectivism doesn’t argue that.

Briefly, his perspectivism argues that different perspectives are required to apprehend the full truth about something. Look at physics, for instance. Einstein, with his relativity paradigm, nailed the macro-level universe. The Copenhagen school, Bohr and Heisenberg, obviously didn’t nail down quantum mechanics, but made important discoveries in quantum mechanics. Both the macro perspective offered by Einstein and later, Levitt and Hubble, and the micro perspective offered by the Copenhagen school and expounded on by Schrödinger and Everett are both necessary to acquire a full understanding of the universe. Hence our attempt to unify both paradigms. 

The history and progress of science is a confirmation of Nietzsche’s view of perspectivism and far from an endorsement of epistemic relativism. Perhaps if UU did away with that philosophically dubious idea, it would fair better in my view, but doing so would threaten the tolerance it looks to harbor, for the second any member of the UU congregation begins to seek an objective truth, s/he is threatening to lay siege to the personal beliefs of most of the congregants, indeed even his/her own beliefs.

Special needs children should definitely stay away from organized religion, but the fact is that the more cognizant among them already do. High functioning autistics, for instance, tend to be non-religious (see here). The fact that religions like Christianity and Islam tend to see people with special needs as “possessed” or as a “curse,” should give any self-aware individual with special needs pause. Some religious people aren’t even willing to understand what’s really going on in their unique genetics and neuroanatomy; they’re quite satisfied with the notions that the special needs individual is either possessed by a malevolent spirit or a curse on a parent who led a mostly irreverent and rebellious lifestyle. Muslims tend to view mental illness, learning disability, and cognitive disorders as expiation for sins. There’s even precedence for this in the texts. Epilepsy and even paralysis are due to demonic possession or oppression in the Bible and demonic possession or possession by jinn in the Qur’an; in fact, epilepsy was once so poorly understood that it was mistaken for possession and Muslims view possession as a form of insanity. That’s setting aside that autistics have been killed during exorcisms. Organized religion doesn’t cater to people with special needs and as such, they should steer clear of it.

Are We Friends or Are We More?

A/N: So I got a request for a Bestfriend Harry, and this is what I came up with. I’m thinking of maybe doing some kind of series witht his, what do you guys think?

Part Two  Part Three

“Harry,” You frown at the curly haired boy currently occupying your couch, “You’re getting crumbs all over the place.”

“Hey,” He drawls out, pouting childishly, scarfing down the cookies you baked like it was his first meal in days, “I’m injured, be nice to me.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that, Styles,” You raise an eyebrow in question, smirking at his perpetual pout.  

“You’re my best friend, you’re supposed to take care of me when I’m crippled, not make fun of my pain,” He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, no doubt waiting for you to apologize.

Never able to resist him, you give him what he wants, “I’m sorry, baby,”You take a seat next to him, running your fingers soothingly through his curls, “What can I do to make it better?”

“That’s more like it,” He groans, loving the feeling of your nails scratching against his scalp, “Keep doing that.”

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I Still Love You //Draco Imagine//

Requested by: le-bord-de-seize-ans

Pairing: Reader x Draco

Plot: Y/n and Draco are Aurors and after a rather dangerous battle with a dark wizard, Y/n and Draco end up having a little fight of their own.

Warnings: none


Being an Auror wasn’t easy. You were constantly putting yourself in danger in order to protect the safety of others, but thankfully, you had your boyfriend of a year-and-a-half to do it with you. Draco Malfoy. The two of you had met back in school but never had any interest in each other then. Not until you two became partners did you begin to get involved.

You loved your job. Solving mysteries and tracking down dark wizards was much fun to you. And facing them was the most fun of all. You had a habit of getting a little cocky and overconfident when you faced a dark wizard which often led to Draco being mad at you. He got over it each time, but it would happen often.

The two of you had been assigned the dark wizard Delphini and after about a month of tracking and gathering all information needed about her, you and Draco were ready to go after her.

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