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I cancelled our subscription with HP and they blocked us from being able to use the rest of the ink in our cartridge. The S in IoT stands for security. It is for your own good ;)
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A cult either manages to turn itself into a harmless institution or it becomes progressively more extremist until the state decides to smash it. A genuine Magical Order will be engaged in psychic guerrilla warfare against all black cults and religions including materialist philosophies. In such a cult every man is his own priest. Any member has the right to teach any other member anything he knows. No member has the right to claim any secret within the Order beyond the secret of his own identity if he wishes it. Unlike cults and religions, a genuine Order will not admit people on a number-for-its-own sake basis. Vitality can only be maintained by quality control at the intake. Whatever hierarchy arises within an Order will be a reflection of demonstrable ability. Attempts to use the various tricks of the teacher enumerated in this section will be immediately spotted and ridiculed. There is only one justification for the existence of a genuine Magical Order — to enable individuals to take control of their own spirituality. And that is a very heroic and dangerous objective. Watch out for the Police Raid.
Psychonaut (1982), From The Chapter "Occult Priesthood"- by Peter J. Carroll
So @rosy-bless posted this post (thank u for my life) and uhhh some Eliot fic happened at lunchtime today. It’s not too long (~600 words) but you see your honour I love him. So, Le//verage fic ft. an unapologetically sneezy El/iot Spe/ncer!
The con involves Eliot being a fireman who rescues the mark’s cat from a tree. What Eliot neglects to mention, until they’re back in Lucille (cat rescued, gratitude earned, number and trust exchanged), is that he’s allergic to cats.
“HhESCHuu!”
Hardison jumps so hard he nearly drives them off the road. Eliot flips his hair back out of his face, turning to roll his eyes at Hardison in the mirror. Then his face twitches, and he returns to the crook of his arm with another sneeze, strong and unapologetic. “HhYESCHuu!”
He pushes his hair out of his face again, wearing a satisfied little smile that Hardison associates with many things, but not with sneezes so loud he swears they rock the van.
“Warn a guy, jesus,” Hardison says, but Eliot just shrugs. A moment passes, then he sneezes again.
“Your Nana never teach you to say bless you?” He grouches, when Hardison goes off on another rant.
“Your family never teach you not to deafen people?”
Eliot shrugs again, unbothered. “Cats, man.”
Parker’s been watching him all this time, which, it’s Parker. He’s used to it. But now her gaze turns from calculating to something more troubled.
“You’re allergic? Why didn’t I know that?”
“‘s’no big deal.” He rubs at his face, and Sophie would probably say he’s embarrassed, but then he sneezes again so maybe he’s just itchy.
“God bless you,” Hardison says, dry, “but ‘no big deal’ doesn’t normally change Lucille’s damn centre of gravity.” He’s exaggerating, they both know exactly how much force it would take to tip Lucille, and it’s not this.
“Is this why you’ve been sniffly all week? Because I was with Princess Bojangles?” Parker’s spent the last week up in the tree Eliot had rescued the damn cat from, slipping treats and cat toys up there to lure the cat out of the window.
“I wasn’t sniffly.” He grumbles. He’s Eliot Spencer. He doesn’t sniffle.
“You were a little sniffly,” Hardison points out. Eliot makes his next sneeze louder on purpose, and to be fair, he does have to sniff a few times after that one. He should really tie his hair up, if this goes on much longer. He’s pulling a hair tie off his wrist when the next sneeze takes him, holding him frozen for a few seconds before it finally comes out. When he brushes his hair out of his face, Parker is somehow sat next to him.
“You should have told us,” she says, quiet, stubborn.
He sighs as he sits back, knowing she’s right.
“Yeah. I know. I, uh, it’s not normally this bad.” It’s an admission he’d make only ever to Parker.
She pokes him in the nose, and he knows he’s forgiven. He tilts his head, waiting to see if it’ll make him sneeze. It doesn’t, so she pokes the other side of his nose instead, and he blinks against the size of the flare in his sinuses.
“HehYishuue, hyISCHHoo! hYISCCH!”
He threads his hand through his hair, leaving it there as he sits back again and allows himself one more firm sniff. “That was a good one,” he says, more to himself than the others, the relief heady. Hardison shakes his head again, and Parker is already back in the front seat. There’s a travel pack of tissues in the pocket of his hoody, he realises, that hadn’t been there moments ago.
“No more cat rescue cons.” Parker orders.
“And we’re stopping for antihistamines.” Hardison adds.
“S’just sneezing,” he says, even though they’ll ignore him as much as they do when he growls at them. Whatever. He’ll be fine in a few hours, and until then, well. Maybe it’s time to test that bet on how many of Hardison’s fancy tissues they can steal before he starts twitching.
It is said that it’s only a matter of time to hit the next massive cyber-attack. All government, public or private institutions are said to be vulnerable to these attacks. Even some of the biggest companies in the world were said to have been hit. It is said to be no wonder why global spending on cybersecurity could possibly exceed $1 trillion this year. Worry no more, as this security-related sponsored post might help to secure your data.
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