#ConQuesT Art Show

[gastlyarts]

Quick doodles I did in between classes today :). I LOVE the friend trio.

[jebbeesketches]

Corrin Twins Ready for Azura's dance class!

This was a Request on Twitter!

"Draw both Corrins in modern clothing, I want to see what others come up with" so I went with the flow and drew them in casual clothes for Azura's dance class!

Cuz why not have a small story in a drawing? :3

[cakesforlosers]

thats just the weight of the world

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls Lore Concept- The Oracle and Bill

The Oracle:

I was initially inspired by the Twitter user @SUwu159's depiction of the Oracle in their take on Relativity Falls, and made my own adaptation as I learned about her in canon.

(Assume she can change colors because I couldn't pick what I liked most)

This version of The Oracle isn't malicious per se, and does not desire the same conquest or chaos sought out by Bill. But she likes universes to be organized and quaint (or answers to another high power that demands it), and finds fulfillment in achieving these goals through any means necessary.

The Oracle and Dipper:

(Sorry if this dialogue tastes like a corndog in your mouth. I just needed to write a semi-resolution to Dipper's side of the relationship, ha.)

Getting into the real struggle with the Pines family. Dipper and Mabel don't fight and hold grudges like the Stans (that we've seen of), so my opinion is that they drifted apart in their late teens and twenties, both feeling pressured to be less attached at the hip. My current belief (though I'm very willing to rewrite this section) is that Mabel and Dipper both poured a lot of energy into pretty niche fields, and being very busy meant very short and rare windows to reach out. Both assumed the other was doing bigger and better things and felt self conscious / childish for wanting eachother's company.

I'm still considering Mabel's backstory, since I think she probably hit lower points than Dipper. You know. Starving artist, lol. But Dipper entered into paranormal investigation, pest control, etc. before his ghost + monster catching went far enough for his name to gain some notoriety. Hell, maybe Pacifica's family reached out to him to take care of "rats" that were actually ghosts, cementing his interest in Gravity Falls and giving him a window inter supernatural work.

Dipper was taken on as something of an apprentice to the Oracle 30ish years before canon as word of his good and dangerous deeds spread. However, what was at first a personal dream come true (saving lives with nerd magic) soon became a personal hell as the Oracle began to overwhelm Dipper with knowledge of various futures and universes where everything he cared about could be destroyed. He's always been over prepared and incredibly paranoid, and became obsessed with protecting the world by acting as a partner to the Oracle.

He ends up doing- or not doing- a lot of morally ambiguous things and gaining a lot of enemies. He is too ashamed to face his family- especially Mabel- with what he's done and burden them, giving the Oracle more to use against him to keep him working for her. Basically "you've already done all this and risked it all, there's nowhere to go if you stop now." Eventually this ends in her seeing him fit for her work and convincing him to hide out in and save other universes, which he gets trapped doing for the next three decades.

Little throw away idea: Pacifica could have been an investor or partner, but left as they uncovered secrets about the Northwest family. Maybe she wanted to undo something (debating making any of the Oracle's powers time related just because I hate time travel) or stop a current show of corruption, but Dipper had to stop her for the "greater good."

In the main universe, Mabel goes to Gravity Falls upon news of her brother's disappearance, searching for any loose end to trace back to him.

I love that in canon, Dipper is willing to do anything for Mabel, and Mabel gives it back. Dipper here spends all of his life keeping as many versions of her as safe as he can, and she spends all her life trying go seek him out- maybe even dropping a larger opportunity outside of Gravity Falls for her art and settling on business at the shack. Dipper wants Mabel alive, Mabel wants them both happy. I like the idea that it's Dipper and Mable vs. The Future but the future is a demon, alien thing.

Which leads me to...

Bill Cipher:

I'm actually gonna cover a couple versions of Bill I think are fitting for this AU, because I initially wasn't sure if I wanted him here at all.

Child Bill:

Pretty straight forward. Bill as a baby, child thing is tempting and this is the au where he'd exist. Personally though, I think Ford's friendship with Fidds would be more enriching to his growth, and Bill's personality is so close to Stan's they would likely be competing to fill very similiar roles. (If Bill behaves differenty as kid, I don't know about it.) Honestly, Bill is super similiar to Ford and Stan, and works better as a kind of foil or antagonist because of that (imo). I do find the mental image of Ford carrying Bill around funny. I do not enjoy human bill like, conceptually, so I'm probably never gonna design one as an adult or child, lol.

It would be cool to see a world where Bill didn't accidentally kill his parents though.

Bill - Reincarnated Original

Technically I guess they could all be reincarneted (especially baby Bill), but this version of Bill experienced and holds memories of the original canon events in GF. Beings like Bill and the Oracle can remember recent/soon approaching lives, and catch glimpses of more distant cycles as well.

What I like about Bill's recent role as an antagonist to Ford and Stan is that he constantly describes them in the terms of their worst traits, and sees them through the lens of the roles the world placed on them. In this AU, Bill is the epitome of the past (in this case a past life) coming back to bite the twins. He rattles their progress in communication as well as their sense of inner peace by bringing old Glass Shard Beach issues into Gravity Falls.

(Depicted here-> moments after Ford summons Bill using the same ritual as Gideon.)

The drawback to this is that it feels a lot like covering old ground.

Simply Bill:

This is pretty much just regular old Bill with the same fresh perspective as everyone else, and also the one I'm going with. He tried and failed to get Dipper's trust in the past and had to lay low at the arrival of the Oracle. Once they left, Bill targeted Mabel. I think it could be very interesting for Mabel and Bill to either have a fresh relationship wherein Bill is actively taking advantage of her desperation to find Dipper, or for Bill to be an old betrayal (not romantic, but not dissimilar to the opportunistic exes Stan and Ford have to be wary of and beat back under the rug regardless).

Either he shows himself to Mable early on, or decides that Gravity Falls is both Oracle-free and worth the time after either Ford or Mable summon him. Afterall, 30 years isn't much to him.

Maybe he exists in the background like he's always done, or the kids (being snoopy and disrespectful of Mabel's secrets) discover what Mabel's doing and run into him on their own.

Whether Bill is aware of the original series or not, I think he could be neat to stick in between Stan and Ford again for conflict. My favorite aspect about Relativity Falls is the prospects of the Stans having a larger support system and better tools to help themselves with. Beating Bill faster and better would be the ultimate testament to Mabel and Dipper's skills as functioning role models, even if Mabel is currently blinded by her focus on Dipper.

Stan and Ford will fight and they will make up, but this time maybe they can overcome it on their own.

I also think a good idea is having Ford and Stan's issues be completely Bill free (outside of like an episode or two's worth of relevance, unless he put them into a particularly stinging situation). It would feel fresher and also streamline the plot, lol.

Overview:

- Dipper is stuck travelling the multiverse with the Oracle and keeps himself sane by thinking of Mabel and protecting various versions of her.

- Mabel is investigating his disappearance in Gravity Falls and is working on a portal/portal equivalent with Bill to bring him back.

- The kids may or may not be aware of this.

Looking at the main series of events, I think it'd be neat go back to the apprenticeship conflict, where Ford could be approached by the Oracle (or something else that makes sense) with the promise of being a "hero," but knows better now because of Dipper and his experiences with Bill. It's kind of a more convoluted version of Ford's proposal to Dipper in canon, and they basically learn the same thing, lol. You can hang out with ghosts if you want, but demons are gonna get you. Maybe being a child with siblings is all you need.

(Stan could also be offered this, given the Oracle already knew he- or at least someone with his face- would beat Bill, but I think it's well established he isn't very interested in doing anything without family.)

All in all, things might be a bit crowded with two antagonists. But I do like the concept of Bill's arrival and subsequent chaos triggering Dipper and the Oracle's return to Mabel's dimension. I also love the idea of Bill, the Oracle, and some secret third thing all trying to pull the Pines family apart, and it's like a Man vs. God turned into a Family vs. Destiny thing, idk. Just trying to make it feel bigger.

Thank you for reading all this. It was a lot to draw. Next time I do anything for Relativity Falls, I'm gonna go back to the smaller things like Mabel bonding with the kids and stuff like that.

[cutiekelley]

Yay red eyed Leo!!!!

Something interesting I noticed with his alts so far is this:

His eyes have progressively gotten redder as time went on!! In chibi form at least. His eyes have stayed pretty red in the actual art too. This happens to a few other characters, where they are drawn in FEH with slightly different colors, but something else that I think points out some significance here is the chibis, cuz Takumi's eyes have looked pretty red in the art (compare his eyes to the red ribbon in his hair), but HIS chibi's eyes are always the same:

This doesn't really mean anything, but I love red eyes Leo, so I wanted to point this out!! Someone could always argue on the canonical status of FEH to say this doesn't count ig, but I personally don't really care. Red eye Leo!! Yay!!

Me, to myself: Now I know you hc Leo's eyes as red but don't be an idiot you know they're canonically supposed to be brown

Leo's Meet the Heroes doodles: *delivering some of the reddest fuckin' eyes I ever did saw*

Me:

Me: Ok so Leo's eyes are canonically red I guess–

[lis-likes-fics]

Mine

Pairings: Klaus Mikaelson x werewolf!Reader Word Count: 2.3k words Kink: Biting/Marking Warnings: NSFW, biting, claiming, fingering, oral (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex... A/N: Yeah, I'm so tired of writing smut rn but fuck it, we ball. we are halfway through (should be more than halfway but shhh) and we will persevere. Thanks for your patience and enjoy!

Your back slammed into the wall as Klaus' strong hands grasped your hips. His lips smacked against yours. You sighed against him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and weaving your fingers into his hair.

He took your lip between his teeth and bit down, kissing you again. Hungry lips moved to devour one another, tongues clashed and fought as the tension in the air turned to heavy heat. Your breath was loud, gasps and sighs escaping you at his touch.

His kiss was heaven, and your head spun as you tasted him. His hands moved to your sides, gripping you to bring you closer to him, even if your bodies were already pressed together so closely. You hummed when his lips pressed to your throat. His teeth darted out to nibble at your skin, red marks arising as he leaned your head back to continue his conquests.

"Klaus," you mumbled, your eyes fluttering shut and your mouth parting.

"You taste absolutely delicious, little pup," he smirked, his teeth clasping around your shoulder in a rather large almost-bite.

You moaned when his large hand came up to cup your breast and grasped, sending beautiful sensations straight to your core as another muffled moan slipped from your throat where he bit and sucked and lapped at your skin.

You were already high off his pleasure. Your body felt so alive.

“Fuck,” you gasped as his teeth brushed that special spot on your neck. You were like putty in his hands as he pressed into you harder, just to keep you from slipping down against the wall as you melted against him. He held you tighter, his grip bruising, and bared as if he was going to take a bite out of you.

You gasped when he took hold of your shirt and ripped it from your body with a foul tear. When you went to moan his name again, he silenced you with his lips, biting down on yours again but fore finding your neck and your shoulder and down to the skin of your breasts peeking out of your bra.

His hunger for you was endless as he continued to suck and bite, pulling blood underneath the surface of your skin and creating mark after mark in his quest to claim you.

And he didn't stop there. His mouth traveled further until he was breaching your jeans, working at them as he lavished teeth and tongue at your belly.

Just looking down at him now, you could see how many marks were beginning to form all over you. He was marking his territory, staking his claim like a painter to a finished work of art.

He pulled your jeans down your legs, but he skips straight to your thighs with the intention of marking you up there as well. It takes everything you have to stay standing, to avoid melting in his hold as his hands keep you still by your hips and his lips lavish your skin.

He continued the graze of his teeth until your panties were being slipped down your legs. You were bare, the bottom half of your body entirely naked for him to gaze upon and admire. You held onto his shoulders as he grasped your waist, licking your lips while you took his shirt in your hands and pulled it off of him to expose the expanse of his chest. He was strong and lean, and it showed.

You felt his fingers first, his middle finger brushing through your folds all of the sudden to collect your wetness on his digits with a groan. “I haven’t even touched you, and you’re dripping,” Klaus smiled. “Is this all for me, little pup?”

You let out a breathy moan as you nodded. “Yeah. All for you.” He smirked proudly at you, his grin crooked and his eyes dark with lust. His middle finger buried itself inside of you, sinking in all the way as he curled it against that spongy spot within you. A moan slipped past your lips, too loud and too exposing as your hips moved with the curl of his finger.

He coaxed you with his finger a while longer before pulling it out of you, listening interestedly to your disappointed sigh. You watched as he stuck his finger soaked in your arousal between his lips and sucked. You bit your lip.

He hummed, “Absolutely divine.” And then he went in for a better taste.

Klaus leaned forward and your lips parted so delicately when his tongue darted out to lick you. Your breath hitched, halting in your throat as his hot tongue delved between your folds. Like fire coursing through your veins, the warmth consumed you. You melted into him and your hips jerked, seeking his mouth.

His lips wrapped around your pussy, tasting you with an intoxicated moan. When he sucked on your clit, your breath trembled and a whimper managed to weave its way through your vocal chords. His talented tongue glided through your folds, plunging inside of you. He was addicted to your taste as he hummed against you.

He separated from you for a moment to look at you, replacing his tongue with two thick fingers as he stuffed you with them, curling and pumping and spreading them inside you. His lips were swollen from being kissed and bitten, wet with spit and arousal. He stared at you with dark, primal eyes.

“Do you like that, pet?” You mewled. “I know you do. I can hear it in your pretty little moans, I can feel it in the way you squeeze around my fingers…”

“It feels so good,” you sighed, nodding and allowing your hips to seek him out.

He buried his face between your legs again, pulling a leg over his shoulder as he did. His tongue flicked at your clit and drove you insane, worse when he sucked in it. It was not long before you were begging him to let you come, and he didn't deny you. He wanted to taste all of you, conquer all of you.

 "Come, darling. Let go for me. Let me taste you,” he urged, curling his fingers and rubbing at your clit with his thumb. Your body shuddered as you clenched tightly around his fingers, a moan slipping from your lips as you gasped. His hot tongue lapped against you, dipping inside of you to collect everything you gave to him. He grasped your thigh to keep you still as he kept you spread for him, loving every moment of being on his knees for you and watching you come undone.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Look at you. So beautiful.”

You carded your fingers through his hair as you came down, taking a breath and smiling. “Not so bad yourself, handsome.” He raised a playful brow at you, taking hold of you as he hoisted your other leg onto his other shoulder and stood. He carried you on his shoulders like you weighed nothing, and you held onto him as you laughed, hoping he wouldn’t drop you on the way to the bed.

Klaus dropped you onto the bed, smiling down at you as he climbed over the bed and over your body and kissed you, bending down to devour your lips and add a few more bite marks and hickeys to your flesh (as if you hadn’t already received enough of them).

When you heard the sound of his belt buckle clinking, you shuddered against him and tightened your legs around his waist. He took your lip between his teeth and tried not to bite too hard before he unfastened your legs around him and turned you over onto your belly. You moaned at the idea, readjusting yourself to stand on your hands and knees as he grabbed your ass and kneaded the flesh in his hand.

He kissed your shoulder, humming to himself at the new territory he had yet to make his mark on. “I’m going to fill you now, my little pup. I’ll have you trembling before long.”

You already were as a shudder ran down your spine. “Please do.”

He smiled to himself, taking himself from his pants as he pulled down down and off his legs. You could feel his hot length pressing against your fold, sighing at the feeling as he took himself in his hand and pumped his cock twice.

When he entered you, you gasped. Your mouth fell open and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his cock made you feel nice and full as he pushed in inch by delicious inch.  “Be a good pet and moan for me,” he groaned. You clenched around his cock and felt a moan slip from your lips.

His cock slid in and out of you in long, slow strokes as he filled you to the brim. You bit down on your bottom lip, your eyes closing as you breathed a heavy sigh. As you continued to tighten around him, he grasped your waist tighter and tighter, pushing himself deep inside of you as he slowly lost a grip on his measured thrusts. A groan rumbled in his chest as he sighed. He was hardly slow or gentle as he rocked in and out of your squeezing cunt. He was paced, although his rough thrusts were not as forgiving anymore, and they left you pleading for more. You threw your head back as a stifled moan caught in your throat.

“Fuck, Klaus,” you huffed.

Rather than respond, he just bent down to press his chest to your back as his lips and teeth continued their conquest. His teeth were not as dull as he became more and more consumed by pleasure. The dull cut of his fangs grazed the skin of your back.

The pleasure echoed off your bones just as your sounds echoed off the walls of the bedroom. Your open mouth was unrestrained with noise of lust and passion. The arousal was leaking down your flesh, painting the insides of your thighs like a canvas, offering a generous lather of paint to the space. His cock spearing into you made the dirtiest sounds—skin on skin, wet against wet.

You fist the sheets as he fucked you. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly as he pulled you back to meet his thrusts. Your legs were a trembling mess, your arms were slowly dwindling in the strength they needed to hold you up. You lost track of your moans, you could hardly hear yourself begging Klaus to keep going.

"More," you begged, despite the loss of breath in your lungs, despite the haze of your mind. You chased the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you took all that he gave you. "Please, more." He cursed under his breath.

He braced one hand next to your head as you reached out to grab it. His breath was loud in your ear, full of broken moans disguised as heavy grunts.

"I like you begging," he purred in your ear.

You clenched around him, whimpering at the feeling of his cock keeping you full as his hips thrust into you. "Please let me cum, Klaus," you moaned. "I need it, feels so good. Please."

He hummed deeply, satisfied with your pleas as he smiled. "Very well, then," he said, his thrusts becoming a little rougher and his hands gripping you a little tighter. You nearly cried out when his finger found your clit, pressing down and rubbing rhythmically as he worked to push you over the edge.

You were getting so close, addicted to the passionate rock of his cock inside you. Your pussy fluttered as you grew nearer and nearer to your release. You could tell he was close too, with the way his breaths become moans, the way his thrusts become a little bit more erratic.

“Klaus,” you gasped. “Klaus, please. Gonna cum!”

He kept going, his breath fast and deep. "Cum for me, love." His thumb moved quicker, and the sparks went wild in your belly. You moaned deeply as you squeezed around his cock, your breath stuck in your throat for a moment as your orgasm washed over you.

He gripped you tighter by the hips, moaning at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him as you clenched his cock in a snug fit inside you. He cursed under his breath, burying his head in the crook of your neck. You felt his sharp fangs graze your skin, teasing your flesh for a moment as he kept rocking into you. With a few rough thrusts of his hips, he buried his cock as far inside of you as he could go as he came.

Your vision blurred and you gasped when his teeth sunk into your skin, piercing your flesh and burning in your veins like a fierce ecstasy. He groaned roughly as he spilled inside of you, rutting his hips a couple more times as he rode out his high.

He pulled away from you, kissing the bite mark Imprinted into your skin as he claimed you with much more than a simple love bite. He sighed deeply, a pleased hum slipping past his lips  before he pulled out of you.

You sat back on your knees as you caught your breath, bringing your hand to your shoulder where he'd buried his teeth. "Did you claim me?" you asked, looking up at him in surprise.

He disappeared one moment and reappeared in the next, a damp cloth in his hand as he rounded you once more. He wrapped an arm around you from behind and kissed your neck again, licking the skin and taking it between his teeth once more.

"You're mine," he whispered.

Always and Forever taglist: @avala-moon​ @xxwritemeastoryxx @melodiclovesong @katsukis1wife @thebrotherssalvatore321 @strangerliaa @njeancastro316 @dumble-daddy @thelastpyle @lovelyy-moonlight @hb8301 @athena-royal @alexxavicry @hellfire1986baby @dumb-fawkin-bitch @papichulo120627 @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @evansstan-akya Tag yourself here or send me a message...

[blueiscoool]

Archeologists Uncover Alexander the Great’s Royal Tunic in Vergina

The remains of a garment from an ancient tomb in Greece may be a tunic that was once worn by Alexander the Great, a scholar claims in a new study.

The garment was found in a tomb that many scholars believe belonged to Alexander’s father, Philip II. It's next to two other tombs thought to hold other royal members of Alexander's family.

The new study, however, claims that this particular tomb doesn't belong to Alexander's father, but to Alexander's half-brother, Philip III (also known as Arrhidaeus). The study also claims that the cotton cloth found in the tomb was once part of a tunic worn by Alexander that, after his death, was passed to Arrhideus and buried with him in this tomb.

The tunic was sacred because only Alexander the Great was allowed to wear it, said Antonis Bartsiokas, professor emeritus of physical anthropology and paleoanthropology at the Democritus University of Thrace and author of the study, published Oct. 17 in the Journal of Field Archaeology. By the time of Alexander's death, some people considered him a god, Bartsiokas said in an email.

However, not all of the scholars supported the findings, with one scholar saying that it is not a tunic at all.

A king's tomb

The garment was found in 1977 in a gold chest in a tomb near the town of Vergina (formerly the capital of Macedonia) in what is now Greece. The tomb has two skeletons that are, according to Bartsiokas, those of Arrhidaeus and his wife Eurydice.

After Alexander died in 323 B.C., Arrhidaeus became king of Alexander's empire. Historical records indicate that Arrhidaeus lived with some form of mental disability and was unable to rule. Alexander's officials and generals fought for power, and the empire disintegrated with the killing of Arrhidaeus in 317 B.C.

Bartsiokas contends that after Alexander died, this tunic was given to Arrhidaeus and, after Arrhidaeus was killed, was buried with him. In his paper, Bartsiokas cites evidence for this idea, such as the art on the tomb's walls, studies of the skeletons found in the tomb, and an analysis of ancient historical records. Bartsiokas also looked at past tests done on the garment, including energy dispersive X-ray spectroscopy, a technique that analyzes X-rays to determine what an object is made of, and fourier-transform infrared spectroscopy, which uses infrared light to analyze objects.

Alexander's tunic?

Bartsiokas contends that tests done by other scholars show that the garment was a sarapis, or a tunic. The tunic is made of three layers. Two of the layers are made of cotton that has been dyed purple. Between the two layers of cotton there is a flexible layer of a mineral called huntite. Purple was worn by kings in the ancient world, he noted, and cotton was grown in Persia, but not in Greece, during Alexander's time. Ancient historical records indicate that "cotton was introduced to Greece and Europe by Alexander’s army following the conquest of the Persian Empire," Bartsiokas wrote in his paper.

Bartsiokas also cited ancient records claiming that the king of Persia wore a tunic that used cotton and huntite and that Alexander wore a tunic like this after he conquered Persia. He noted that Philip II was not a ruler of Persia and would not have worn a tunic that used cotton or huntite.

In addition, the artwork on the wall of the tomb — an illustrated group of hunters — depicts Alexander wearing a tunic similar to the one found, Bartsiokas said, and the artwork's details suggest the artist was familiar with Persia's landscape and wildlife.

Additionally, the painting is done in a complicated style that would have taken a long time to complete, meaning the burial likely didn't belong to Philip II. That's because Philip II was assassinated in 336 B.C. and Alexander went on a military campaign shortly afterward, which means the artist would not have had time to create it before Philip II's funeral, Bartsiokas explained.

Another reason the garment didn't belong to Philip II, Bartsiokas said, is that the king suffered a wound to his right eye, but neither skeleton in the tomb has an indication of such a wound.

Controversy

Scholars had mixed reactions to Bartsiokas' paper.

Hariclia Brecoulaki, a senior researcher at the National Hellenic Research Foundation's Institute of Historical Research in Greece, said there is no evidence to support the idea that this garment was a tunic. "The textile, according to the excavators, looked more like a piece of scarf that served to wrap the bones of the deceased," Brecoulaki said in an email.

Athanasia Kyriakou, director of the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki's excavation project at Vergina, also criticized the paper. "This article is full with faulty understandings due to a lack of the relevant background," Kyriakou said in an email. Bartsiokas did not conduct tests on the materials himself, Kyriakou noted, adding that Bartsiokas "has not even seen the materials."

Other scholars were more supportive of the paper and its findings. "I am sympathetic to Antonis Bartsiokas's arguments that it belongs to Philip III," Susan Rotroff, a professor emerita of classics at Washington University in St. Louis, said in an email. "If the textile in question really is cotton, it is hard to support a date before the time of Alexander the Great."

Richard Janko, a classical studies professor at the University of Michigan, was cautiously supportive. "This is a very exciting piece of research," Janko said in an email. "The original identification of the male occupant of the extraordinarily rich Tomb II at Vergina as Philip II, the father of Alexander, is far from secure."

However, Janko noted that the cotton used to make the garment could have been imported through trade from Persia, which means that it could have been acquired and used by Philip II.

David Gill, a fellow at the University of Kent's Centre for Heritage, commended the paper's findings. "Some years ago I published the weight inscriptions from Tomb II — and I argued that they had to post-date Philip II," Gill said in an email. Several objects in the tomb, such as silver plates, have their weights inscribed on them.

He found the paper's arguments that the garment was a tunic used by Alexander the Great to be strong. "It is likely that this was an item that was worn by Alexander the Great," Gill said.

[beautifullache]

🦄The Sims 4🦄

🎆PATREON ONLY🎆

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A product and master of the true, traditional craft of ink, Don Ed Hardy, "The God Father of Modern Tattoos," is an American born, internationally recognized artist. A brilliant creative who developed the potential of tattooing as a legitimate, expressive art form and is primarily responsible for its global growth over the past fifty years. His unique aesthetic and innovative techniques are still being utilized by tattoo artists today.

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[superficialdomina]

Fray (Into Submission, Part 4)

Part 3: Lost

Series masterlist

AN: An Avengers training session gives you a chance to show Loki how fun it would be to let you win.

As always, an enormous thank you to @acidcasualties for making this whole series happen. Special thanks to @lokisgoodgirl for checking the accuracy of my swordplay!

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: 18+; minors DNI. Thirsty with some reminiscing, but nothing explicit in this one. Inaccurate descriptions of combat training. Mostly just lurid descriptions of Loki's smoking hot bod in workout wear, with a touch of plot development.

Days. You hadn’t seen him in days.

There were hints of him; you knew he was still in the Tower. You’d heard his voice a couple of times, and yesterday when you’d stepped into the elevator you could smell that he’d been there minutes before. But he’d upped his avoidance game. It made you sad, and a little afraid.

The look of anguish he’d worn as he’d cast you out of his apartment remained etched in your memory, leaving the subtle ache of guilt in your chest. Had you gone too far?

You mulled it over as you pulled on your gym gear. Loki might still refuse to talk to you this morning, but you were confident that you would at least see him. After several of your coworkers had missed Saturday afternoon’s impromptu training session, Rogers had rescheduled for first thing Monday morning, with strongly worded insistence that everyone be in attendance. His WhatsApp message didn’t quite single Loki out by name, but none of you was in any doubt about its intended target.

The spacious training hall gleamed with the sunlight that streamed through the large 26th story windows, casting a warm glow on the polished mats. The luxury of the Tower was as prominent here as on every other floor. The gym was loaded with state-of-the-art equipment and comprehensive accessories, all meticulously maintained - as though getting your arse kicked by a handful of superheroes would hurt less because there wasn’t a speck of dust on the yoga mats, you thought wryly. You peered hopefully around the room as you entered. I just need to know that he’s OK, you told yourself.

Loki and Thor were sparring hand-to-hand in the open rink, the soft thudding of their bare feet resonating as they moved around one another. Occasional grunts carried as one of the pair landed a strike. Despite Thor’s size advantage, they were evenly matched; Loki was always a fraction faster, seeming to know exactly where Thor would move next, as though each step were choreographed and practiced to perfection. Observing them was like watching an ancient dance. Which is exactly what it is, you thought, momentarily awed. A fierce, millennium-old dance.

Thor’s bare chest, though impressive, was still somehow less appealing than Loki’s lithe form, clad in workout wear that clung tightly to his broad back. You let your eyes blatantly traverse him. His elegant ankles smoothed into perfectly sculpted calf muscles; his Godly hamstrings flexed under the hem of his training shorts, which in turn restrained his flawlessly rounded glutes. His body was utterly splendid. A delight of form and function, forged by centuries of practice and power. A work of art.

If he would just put that phenomenal dedication and discipline to good use in service to you…

“Time!” Rogers called loudly, and the brothers stepped back, arms lowered, chests heaving. Thor clapped Loki on the back amicably, and for the briefest moment, you saw Loki wince. The small movement made your blood run hot.

Pain.

“Three minutes, everyone!” Rogers continued, before consulting the pairs listed in the complicated run sheet on his ridiculous clipboard. “Two and eight,” he began. “Three and twelve. Four and… Sixteen.”

You groaned inwardly, pushing thoughts of your recalcitrant conquest from your mind. The Black Widow. Not exactly a leisurely start to the morning, then.

“Come on, sixteen,” Natasha laughed. “Show me what you’ve got.”

The room filled with the sounds of Avengers in practice: thudding boots, wordless shouts, the familiar hum of mutual respect and collective, focused power. As you sparred, you began to relax into the collaborative energy, muscle memory activating as your training partner led with her familiar fighting style. Nat feinted here, and you responded there; the two of you were strong, and graceful, and -

Thump. You landed flat on your back on the hard mat. Again. At least this time you’d seen it coming. Your body just… didn’t move that way. Or that fast.

“You’re getting better,” Nat insisted as she hauled you to your feet. “You almost avoided that one.”

“I saw what you were doing,” you agreed, somewhat reluctantly. “I just couldn’t do anything to stop you.”

“They rarely can,” she winked, as Steve’s obnoxious whistle sounded again.

“Drinks!” he shouted, “then re-pair for weapons.” He returned to his spreadsheet, muttering numbers to himself, as you reached for your water bottle and your thoughts – and eyes – returned to Loki.

He was sauntering towards the group with Bucky, shoulders thrown back in haughty masculinity, animatedly wiping sweat from his brow with his sinewy forearm. Whore, you thought lustily. They looked almost amicable. You gazed at him, curious; confused. He seemed… fine? Loki caught you watching him and gave you a wink. A wink. Almost like…

Like old times, you thought. What is going on?

You turned away, chugging water, then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He seems fine. Was it real? If he was truly so nonchalant, why the vanishing act over the past few days?

You were still standing there, bemused, when the team began to pair off again. In your distracted state, you’d missed the next call. Who…?

Only one person remained by your side, and his imperious gaze left you in no doubt as to your next partner.

Loki.

You moved together to one end of the training mats. This close, you could see the fine trails of fresh sweat across his bare shoulders; smell the sweet scent of it heavy around you when he raised his arms to pull his curls back into a messy plait. You imagined the saltiness of it gathered in the valleys of his muscular, sinewy body, with which you had so recently become better acquainted; the way it would pool and concentrate in the deep hollow of his jugular notch.

I could make you sweat like that.

He continued to smirk at you mischievously as he moved into position, as grandiose and egomaniacal as ever. “Short swords, Agent?” he drawled, a short, thick blade appearing in each hand with a flicker of green.

“Just one, Laufeyson!” Rogers shouted, before you could respond. Loki raised an eyebrow at you, flirting with the idea of arguing; but he wordlessly vanished the weapon on his left.

“You didn’t want to lend that to me?”

“Darling, they are hundreds of years old,” he drawled coolly. “I don’t lend them to anyone.” Turning to fetch a training sword, you hid a smile at his words. Had he forgiven you?

Or he’s just feeling cocky.

The gym’s practice swords were hung neatly at the far wall. You tried to pick one that was long enough to be effective, but not so long as to be cumbersome. It was highly irrelevant; he was faster, stronger, and infinitely more skilful than you. You selected a narrow doge sword that at least felt comfortable in your grip.

The gym echoed with the ring of steel on steel as your peers sparred. How many rounds had it been? Each time you lasted barely a minute before he outdid you, the sharp edges of his blade finding their mark at your shoulder, your thigh, and once, your collar bone. Despite your budding fatigue, you found yourself mesmerised by him. He wielded the ancient sword with harmony and fluidity, so fluent was he in its unwritten language, so familiar with its little quirks. Like an old lover, you thought madly, as you struggled to steady the vibrations of the blade with each parry and clash.

His weapon whistled again; this time the flat of his blade struck your hand, and you dropped your own sword. He stepped back to patiently wait for you to ready yourself again.

His fitness was phenomenal - you were breathing hard, your arms burning, and he barely seemed to have slowed. The smirk he’d given you earlier was once again pasted across his beautiful, pretentious face. Patient, but smug.

“Where have you been, Loki?” you asked as you retrieved your weapon, buying time to catch your breath. Dammit, your knuckles stung; you hoped it wasn’t obvious.

“Here and there,” he replied easily. No denial this time. “Are you ready?”

“I was worried about you.”

“If you mean that you feared for my safety, I am most able to defend myself.”

“That’s not what I meant.” For a second you thought you saw a flicker of vulnerability return to his features. If you did, it was quickly swallowed by his traditional haughty confidence. “I just… Well, as long as you’re OK.” Ready, you lifted your blade - and a thought occurred to you.

The timing had to be perfect; if he hadn’t been looking directly at your mouth, he might have missed it. Provocatively raking your eyes down over his long body, you bit your lower lip, and gave a tiny, breathy moan.

It was horribly overdone, but it worked. Loki hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening, and you took advantage of his momentary distraction to slip below his guard; the steel of your sword captured his, and you pushed - hard. There was the harsh sing of metal-on-metal as you slid down the blade, checking his weapon against his chest. His move was forfeit. He stepped backwards off the edge of the mat, losing his balance - and you pinned him against the wall.

You pressed your body into his, your mediocre blade below his chin, and carefully assessed his face. Was he irritated by your trick? If anything, he seemed… amused.

“That,” he said lightly, looking down at you over his long, regal nose, “was an interesting tactic.”

“You know what they say,” you muttered, still breathing hard. “If you can’t beat them…”

“I dare say it would not be widely effective,” he added.

“More than you think, perhaps.”

And then you noticed it: the slight flush to his cheeks, which could be excused by the workout. The twitch of a muscle at the corner of his jaw. The feel of his perfect cock swelling slowly under his training shorts.

Not amused… Aroused.

Loki knew the moment you’d realised his state of mind. Or rather, state of body.

You’d opened your mouth in mock astonishment, your eyes bright with barely contained glee.

“Are you enjoying this?” you had asked, quietly delighted. The crossed swords had still been pressed unrelentingly against his chest, his blade locked tight under yours. It made his pulse quicken pleasantly.

Loki had given a small, wordless huff, but he didn’t trust himself to speak. In truth, he’d found it highly enjoyable; your control, your audacity, your erotically mischievous little decoy. His own powerlessness. But how could he admit that to you?

The sounds of water splashing off bathroom tile brought him back to the present. Gingerly, he stepped under the heavy jets; steam enveloped him. Lathered soap formed clouds of bubbles that washed away the training-hall grime, the sticky salt that clung to his skin like a fragrance. The precious soreness that assured him that he had worked for this. That he had earned it.

How could he admit that to you? The question turned over in his mind like the soap in his hands, slippery and fraught. It should be simple, really; the evidence was laid bare before him, stripped of illusion and ego in the privacy of his mind. The chamber. The Genuflexa. The young man, beautifully bound. The way your body had risen in his mind's eye to bring him undone, not just then but so many times since…

He let the water run through his long hair, raking his fingernails to help it penetrate all the way to his scalp. He liked the way their sharpness felt on the sensitive skin.

… And in counterpoint, the betrayals of his youth. The early memories of hurt and rejection that had sown the seeds of distrust. The expectations of masculinity and dominance, and the familiarity of the long-worn mask.

Loki lifted his chin to shake the heavy, saturated mass of slick curls out behind him, squeezing the last of the water from it. He thought of you; of how much he would like to tend to your sore muscles, to soothe the bruises you would surely have sustained in combat today. To gently run his fingertips over your scalp, and hear you sigh with contentment.

There was only one sensible question, he decided as he stepped from the lustrous shower recess. Steam was clearing to reveal his glistening face in the bathroom mirror. Did he trust you?

He dried his hands, and picked up his cell phone.

Alright, Agent. Prove me wrong.

Almost immediately, he received your reply. The tone of it sent a little shiver down Loki’s spine.

9pm, my apartment. Be punctual.

Before he could interrogate his feelings about it, his phone gave another gentle ping.

Wear your cape.

Tags: @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @infinitystoner @lady-rose-moon @coldnique @thomase1 @kats72 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @tomlugirl @lokisninerealms @missmushroomsstuff @ladyloki3 @fandxmslxt69 @sinsandguilt @sarahscribbles @lunarnights95 @meowmeow-motherfucker @simplyholl @divine-knight-hand @gigglingtiggerv2 @eleniblue @loz-3 @redfoxwritesstuff @wolfsmom1 @beksib @nyx2021 @lokischambermaid

[tweedfrog]

I also think the Aegon I -> Visenya and Aegon I -> Rhaenys relationships are interesting if you think of them in a Katniss/Peeta/Gale kind of way where the 2 love interests represent different ideologies or possibilities.

Show canon establishes (and book canon kind of hints) at the fact that Aegon viewed the conquest of Westeros as some kind of ends justify the means thing to protect the world from the 2nd coming of the long night so westeros could unify and beat back the others. He likely thinks of himself as some kind of Azor Ahai who's making the right but difficult decision to kill Nissa Nissa for the benefit of everyone else.

He loves Rhaenys because she represents the veneer of noblesse obligee over what hes done. She puts a nice gloss over things and uses her love of music and art and culture whatever to make everything seem pretty.

But he NEEDS Visenya there to be violent and frightening and sensible and willing to do the things that need to be done to subjugate a bunch of petty kings to a centralized authority.

And this is why Rhaenys dies first and he's left with Visenya at the end because the veneer is just veneer and Visenya is what monarchy and the targaryen monarchs are at the end of the day send tweet

[sage-nebula]

When The Owl House first came out, there was a lot of discussion surrounding how King could potentially be Bill, with the most common theory being that Bill had somehow been reincarnated into King by the Axolotl. After all, not only does Alex Hirsch voice both of them, but the voice he uses for King is very similar to the voice he uses for Bill. (Very similar, but not the exact same; apart from not having the voice distortion, King's voice is higher pitched. King's voice is basically Bill's voice before Bill hit puberty, lmao.) Apart from that, both King and Bill are demons; King had an obsession with ruling, power, and conquest; King has yellow sclera; and, well, people were desperate for connections between Gravity Falls and The Owl House, to the point where I actually did end up pretty annoyed for awhile that people weren't letting The Owl House stand on its own two feet and were instead treating it like a sequel show. (Though there are actual, canonical connections between them now, the most notable being that Eda married Stan for less than 24 hours in Vegas so that she could rob him blind, lmao. He still thinks fondly of her to this day, as he should.)

I bring this up because I never really subscribed to this theory, or thought very much of it . . . until now. It's not that I think the theory is more plausible now, but more that I think that the idea holds a sort of poetic beauty to it now, if it was true. (Which again, I don't think it necessarily is, but more that it's a nice "what if" to think about.) And the reason for that comes from information that we gained from The Book of Bill, along with additional information that we've now gained from the website, along with how King's story arc developed and played out in The Owl House. (So, spoilers for that show, the new book, and the website if you haven't kept up with any of that.)

Essentially:

It's been heavily implied for years now (to the point where, in my personal opinion, it was known, but to be safe I'm saying heavily implied) that Bill destroyed his home dimension. In the show, Bill says that he "liberated" his home dimension, and when he brings it up, there is fiery imagery around him that is similar to the rift that opens in the sky to link Gravity Falls to the Nightmare Realm during Weirdmageddon. Then, in one of the spinoff books, when Dipper asks the Axolotl about Bill, the Axolotl says, "Saw his own dimension burn [. . .] blame the arson for the fire." Considering that Bill said that he "liberated" his dimension with fire imagery, and the Axolotl says that he saw his dimension burn (and blames the arson, rather than the arsonist for the fire) . . . the conclusion can easily be drawn that Bill's "liberation" was actually "destruction." Which makes sense, when you remember what he wanted to do to Earth during Weirdmageddon.

Nonetheless, we have had that confirmed now thanks to The Book of Bill and the website. We know that when Bill tries to recant what happened to his dimension, there is a loud ringing in his ears and he blacks out; we know that he looks "more distant than [Ford] had ever seen him" when he tries to recount the story to Ford (implying dissociation; we know that he told his henchmaniacs the "liberation" story and that he freaks out when Time Baby tries to speak openly about what actually happened and who actually caused it; and we know that, during his therapy sessions in the Theraprism, when the therapist tries to turn the discussion to his parents, he shuts down discussion altogether. (And also only draws red and blue triangles during his art sessions, implying that may be what his parents looked like.)

So we know that: Bill destroyed his own dimension, that he's the sole survivor of the massacre, that he was severely traumatized by this (because he didn't intend to massacre his entire people, he honestly was trying to help them see what he could see -- the third dimension) and that he just handled his trauma in the worst possible way, particularly since he did not have anyone left to give him a support system. A billion years without a proper support system or any form of healing, sinking further and further into denial, rationalization, and detachment (outlined on Bill's page on morality as his tools of the trade), lying until his lies were no longer lies to himself, made Bill into the monster he is today.

But then the Pines family defeated him (thanks to Stan), he invoked the name of the Axolotl, and got sent to the Theraprism. He hates it there, and he is so deeply entrenched in the lies-he-no-longer-recognizes-as-lies that he is not making any progress. As Alex said at one of the Barnes & Noble Q&As, what Bill really needs is to actually be honest with himself, but it's unknown if he will ever be able to do that. Until he can do that, the hope of him actually making progress at the Theraprism is nil.

But here is the thing about the Theraprism. Well, here are the two things about the Theraprism:

The first is that we are told that the Theraprism is a place specifically devoted to reincarnation. The reason why the "King is reincarnated Bill" theory was popular before was mostly due to the reasons I mentioned above, but also because of another line in the Axolotl's poem: "A different form, a different time." People understood this to mean reincarnation, and it's easy to see why. But for me personally, I always found it a bit strange that the Axolotl would simply let Bill reincarnate simply by calling out for help. Would that really be all it took for the Axolotl? True, the Axolotl is the god of this universe, and Jesus (from how I understand it) is all about "accept me as your savior and you're immediately absolved of all sins," but I also felt that was just too easy of a Get Out of Death Free card for Bill. It was a very clean getaway, considering everything.

But The Book of Bill makes it evident that isn't the case. As it is described by the Theraprism employee in the book:

"Here at the Theraprism, we believe death can be the beginning of a new life. With good behavior, former wizards, world-eating titans, and even Mr. Cipher have many exciting options for reincarnation -- perhaps as a newt, shrimp, or a cloud of fungal spores!"

The Axolotl also made this clear to Bill (though Bill misunderstood entirely:

"You cannot regrow through denial. You'll have to face my hardest trial. See my program to the end, then you may yet live again. You're getting what you need the most; one way to absolve your crimes, to change your form will take some time."

Now, many of you are probably thinking: a baby titan from the Boiling Isles is a huge leap from newts, shrimp, and fungal spores. I would agree with you; it seems that the Theraprism does tend to pick very lowly life forms for the big bads they rehabilitate to reincarnate into. But here are the reasons why I think it would be poetic if it were King, and therefore why I like to think that it would be nice if this were the case:

Like Bill, King is the last of his kind. Unlike Bill, this is through no fault of King's own; the other titans were wiped out before King even hatched, and King's father had to hastily inscribe runes to protect him from the titan hunters (or archivists?) so that they couldn't find and kill him as well by destroying his egg. Nonetheless, King is the sole survivor of a genocide and this is something that weighs heavily on him and influences his character arc in a big way in the second half of the show. The fact that he doesn't know what he is lends struggle to him trying to discover who he is. Yes, he's in a family of misfits, but Eda and Luz know what they are and who they come from. King doesn't have that. King has no basis for what he is, or why he was abandoned -- none of it. And then when he does finally start to get answers, it's to learn that his people were massacred in a genocide; that there are people still out there who want to kill him; that he is going to grow to be a deity-like figure, that he'll outlive those he loves . . . King is a child of about eight-years-old, but he has so, so much weighing on him already.

But where Bill accidentally destroyed his dimension and killed everyone in it, and then was crushed under the weight of that trauma because he was left alone and covered in blood, King did have that family of misfits to support and love him through it all. He was still burdened by the fact that he didn't know what he was or where he came from, but Eda, Hooty, Luz, and eventually Lilith gave him unconditional love and a home and support to figure all of that out, to the point where it was King's idea to be formally adopted by Eda and change his name to King Clawthorne. And while he will eventually outlive them all, he made a friend in The Collector who is also immortal, so he'll never be truly alone.

Essentially, what I'm getting at here is: there are parallels in Bill's and King's story, now that we know Bill's backstory. They aren't the exact same, especially since King was not responsible for what happened to the other titans. But there are still parallels that can be made. But whereas things ended as badly as they could possibly end up for Bill, King's story had a much better ending. So if we imagine that Bill was reincarnated as King, then it is almost like he got a do-over. Like he was put in a similar situation, but this time he was found by a new adoptive mother who raised him with love and care, and got an adoptive big sister, and owl tube house mate, and aunt, as well as a ton of friends. He suffered trauma, but this time he didn't have to suffer it alone, and was able to handle it in a much better, much healthier way. Yes, he's an all-powerful demon (or at least, he will be someday, when he grows into an adult). But this time he isn't going to be causing any apocalypses, or delighting in any mortal suffering. This time, things are going to be different for him, because his soul completed the Axolotl's program in the Theraprism and he was able to reincarnate for that second chance.

(And if you're thinking, "But The Owl House doesn't take place that long after Gravity Falls, so how is that possible?" Well, the Theraprism exists outside of time and space, so it doesn't matter how many millennia it takes for Bill to complete the program. He literally has all the time in the multiverse.)

So I'm on board with this theory now. Again, I do not think it's canon. But it's a nice idea, and one that I think has a poetic sweetness to it. No one has to agree, of course, but that's just my take on it.

[cakesforlosers]

unfortunate circumstance

[exhuastedpigeon]

Buddie Hiatus Fic Recs - Month 4 August 16 - Sept 15

I think is my favourite rec list for this little project so far. It has some of my all time favourite Buddie fics on it, fics that I've read over and over again because they just bring me so much joy.

Previous lists linked at the bottom!

0-5k

here (in your arms) by devirnis / @devirnis Explicit | 2.3k I have had THE WORST day. When I finally get home, I’m going to pass out and sleep like a rock, and then I want to wake up with you inside me.

the art of peeling mandarins for the one you love by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Teen | 3.9k Buck asks Eddie to marry him in the kitchen, of all places.

5k-10k

but i've got my teeth in you by oklahoma / @sunshinediazTeen | 5.5k bad things happen bingo—tooth knocked out

you're the cream in my coffee by 42hrb Explicit | 8.6k Buddie coffee shop AU where everything is different, but they’re still idiots in love

wood you be mine? by MonsterRae1 / @monsterrae1 Mature | 9k the Lumberjack Buck fic.

10k-20k

With Great Power Comes Great Pining by Princessfbi / @princessfbi Teen | 10.4k It was the lightning strike. That had to be it. It was the only logical conclusion. Though, when it comes to being able to suddenly read people’s minds, Buck supposed there wasn’t a whole lot of logic involved.

endless numbered days by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Gen | 13.1k When a big event in the lives of the members of the 118 falls on the same weekend as Bobby's late son's birthday, Bobby finds himself reflecting on grief, fatherhood, and life after loss. 

The Scroll of Saint Barnabas by Amiril / @runawaymarbles Mature | 15k The day of the shooting, Eddie got stuck in a time loop. But that was three months ago. He's completely fine now.

Say Yes, and Figure It Out Afterwards by catwalksalone Explicit | 13.3k Buck and Eddie figure out a mutually beneficial way to deal with the first responder post-trauma cycle of up-horny-down.

Share the Joy by TalkNerdyToMe6 Teen | 14.2k After the lightning strike, Buck discovers he has more than just the ability to do long division in his head. Every time he touches Eddie, everything the other man is feeling moves through him like a wave of emotion, there and gone again. Buck can’t decide if that’s a blessing or a curse.

20k - 30k

light through the wave tips by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) / @bvckandeddie Explicit | 21.9k When Buck and Eddie planned a vacation with their kids over a year ago, they hadn’t exactly planned on bringing a seven-month-old baby along with them. Surely wrangling three kids can't be too much of a challenge—that is, if it weren't for Christopher's steadily worsening mood.

Cutting The Ties That Bind by kristen999 / @thekristen999 Mature | 34.4k Evan Buckley was a businessman, he had meetings and deadlines like everyone else. Sometimes he used intimation. While using the very same tactics he was trying to end while converting his family business into legitimate operations was a little hypocritical, it was the results that mattered.

Occasionally, he got threatened, but it was usually all hot air and ego. That all changed the day his breaks were tampered with. Enter Eddie Diaz, security specialist, who was not easily impressed by Buck’s expensive suits or financial conquests. That was okay. Buck enjoyed a challenge.

30k +

family (portrait) by ProsperDemeter / @prosperdemeter2 Teen | 45.1k realizing that the family that you need has been beside you all along.

like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Explicit | 51.1k evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home

Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Teen | 79.8 Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica

what a heart can do by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) / @bvckandeddie Teen | 85.5k In which Buck becomes the guardian of the daughter he never knew he had. Together, they discover what happiness truly means to them.

Month 1 (May 15 - June 15) Month 2 (June 16 - July 15) Month 3 (July 16 - August 15)

[semisolidmind]

How does the Modern Reincarnation AU work in the Twice as Bad AU? Especially with MK and everything? I know it would probably be completely unlikely that Peaches would get the opportunity to die with her two monkey hubbies always around her, but what if her dying happened on the journey? Like her death was something that happened while the monkey demons were restrained and couldn't do anything about it, causing them to wait the couple hundred years until she pops up again?

(Also, I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am for your creativity and art! You're awesome. Hope you have a great day! 💙)

oh man oh boy (also thank you skye, you're making my day :))

(so both monkeys have wrist and ankle cuffs in this au, and the cuffs work like a less harmful version of the circlets. anytime reader says a certain command, they throw the demon wearing them to the ground. i imagine that the moment reader dies, the cuffs fall off.)

it's utterly silent when they hit the ground.

the boys are distraught. they're inconsolable. theyre angry. whatever demon caused reader's death will be torn apart peice by peice, tortured until death. and then...

...nothing. the monkey demons shut down beyond an occasional terse word. they're still technically bound to the journey by the circlets and the bodhisattva's command, and so they continue on. they only speak to their companions when necessary. macaque spends most of his time in the shadows, and wukong walks behind the group. they take out their sadness and rage on the myriad demons that get in their way. the journey concludes with wukong and macaque denying their enlightenment and going home to flower fruit mountain.

their conquests become especially brutal for the next couple hundred years.

–––

centuries later, mk comes into the world. wukong finds him wandering the mountain, and adopts him as his own. macaque is an uncle figure to the boy, helping in his training and teaching a different worldview. mk grows up knowing very little about humans beyond what his monkey family tells him. regardless, he's curious and wants to know more.

the two elder monkey demons are jaded, and their resentment for the celestial realm and humanity has only grown. though, they'll both slip into wistfulnesss occasionally, telling mk about reader and what she was like. he heard plenty of stories about her growing up, and he always finds himself wishing he could have met her. it's the only time mk will hear his caretakers speak positively about a human.

when mk asks to go into the city, wukong refuses. he doesn't want his son around any mortals, and were it not for his "infinite mercy," that wretched city would be dust by now. it's only when macaque agrees to go with mk that wukong relents. macaque, who's somewhat more knowledgeable about modern humans than his brother, tells mk what he knows about how the mortal world works. mk doesn't get the chance to make his friends until later in this au, when he's allowed to make short solo excursions into the city to buy groceries.

he's taking too long on a run when it happens.

mk has encountered mei, and thinking the dragon heir was trying to start a fight (given the monkey demons' history with dragons), mk battles her. while the two have their brawl that eventually ends in tentative friendship, macaque waits at a rendezvous point.

when mk doesn't show after twenty minutes, macaque lets out a long-suffering sigh and sets out across the roof tops and alleyways to search for him. the kid, for all his strengths, has never been good at time management. after a while, macaque is able to track him to a little noodle shop in the downtown area.

the dark-furred simian watches from a nearby rooftop as mk and...a disguised dragon? girl? go inside the shop. macaque melds into the shadows, following them in through the half-shuttered doorway. the shop isn't anything to write home about; simple decor, simple noodles, a suspiciously familiar pig demon manning the kitchen, a woman managing the register—

macaque stops cold.

it only takes a second for macaque to get a read on the woman's soul. and upon closer inspection, she looks familiar too.

heartbreakingly familiar. same hair, same eyes... same smile, aimed at mk as she welcomes him. this woman—she's their reader, reincarnated. she has to be. mk makes a joke, something about monkeying around, and the girl laughs; the same joyful sound he remembers from all those centuries ago. it's the same. she's the same.

a shadowy tear makes its way down his incorporeal face. she's here. alive.

he has to tell wukong.

[ventresses]

Is Ryloth based on Algeria?

A while back, some friends and I had an interesting discussion about why Star Wars has the Twi'lek speak with French accent, and the implication that Ryloth could perhaps be inspired by a country formerly colonized by France.

We discovered there were A LOT of parallels between Ryloth and the country of Algeria

Political History & Colonialism

Algeria became a colony of France after they invaded it in 1830. Their conquest of Algeria has been called a genocide, and they perpetrated countless atrocities- starvation, epidemics, retaliation for resistance, etc. During that time period, there were popular revolts against the French occupation, and insurgent groups, guerilla warfare, etc., particularly in the decade prior to their independence, which Algerians finally won in 1962.

Ryloth's rulers/most powerful political official(s) are always shown as off-world, corrupt, disconnected from the life and struggles of its people, and allowing the people and resources of the planet to exploited. First, this is under Senator Orn Free Taa, then Separatist occupation, then the Empire.

Throughout that same history of oppression and exploitation, we also see armed resistance movements and guerilla fighters, like the Twi'lek Resistance and the Free Ryloth Movement.

Geography

Algeria is the largest country in Africa. It contains a significant portion of the Sahara Desert, and hosts many impressive rock formations.

Ryloth is a large planet on the Outer Rim. Whenever we see Ryloth on-screen, it almost always shows the desert, is peppered with incredible rock formations, gorges, etc.

Architecture

The homes and structures we see on Ryloth are reminiscent of traditional &/or vernacular mud-brick architecture in Algeria and its neighbor, Morocco. For example:

The Syndulla House

Numa's Village (from The Clone Wars S1E20)

The Capital City (from The Clone Wars S1E21)

Interior Design

We also see themes and details that are strongly reminiscent of Islamic architecture in, for example, the design of the Syndulla family's home.

This is also true of simpler homes, like the ones in Numa's village from The Clone Wars, which utilize subtle geometric motifs and Arabesque patterned windows.

Art

Mosaic art was one of the hallmarks of Roman and Byzantine and Islamic Empires, all of which Algeria was part of, and had their history and culture influenced by.

The Syndulla family portrait is a mosaic.

Head Coverings

The vast majority of Algerians identify as Muslim. It's very common practice for Muslim women to wear the hijab, which covers their hair.

Every time we see a female Twi'lek on-screen she is wearing a head-band or head-covering. We very rarely see male Twi'lek do so.

Language and Accents

As a remnant of the legacy of French colonialism, French is widely spoken and understood in Algeria, though its official language is Arabic.

Many Twi'lek speak Galactic Basic, and do so with a French-sounding accent, though Twi'leki is their native language.

Anything else?

[artdcnaldson]

GODDDDD corrupting art au!!! its so perfect you just get it!!

after that she’ll just keep taunting him, maybe she’ll go out and fuck some random guy and the next day just talk art’s ear off about alllll the details. he says he doesn’t mind listening to it but in reality he’s fighting the horny voices in his head :(( and while she’s talking she can see the outline of his cock start to grow in his shorts and she’s just like wow this is my personal project now. maybe she’ll even reenact some of the positions just to “give him the full picture” (she just lovesss seeing him stutter and cover himself with something to hide the boner)

and yeah she doesn’t bring it up then, the fact that she heard him in the shower, but ohhhh what happens when she purposefully jerks off while he’s home and he “accidentally” walks in on her??? he apologizes and pretends to cover his eyes but he can’t bring himself to get out of the room :( he’s just curious, he tells himself, that’s all. what happens when he thinks she’ll stop but she just keeps going and just tells him between moans “it’s okay art, you can look. a little something for your spank bank while you wait for your bride to be”

- 🐚

GODDDDDDD this has me like biting thru drywall crying sobbing leaking etc etc

Poor Art just has to sit there and take it. He’s awake playing video games when you get back from a date. Patrick’s asleep, crashed after a long day of providing tennis lessons to bratty kids. Art gives a nervous, friendly smile and asks how it went.

And that’s how he’s stuck on the sofa listening to you talk about your latest conquest. “Anyways, I was straddling him, y’know, like—“ you pause, meet his gaze. “— sorry, you don’t know. I’ll just show you.”

He holds his breath as you shift into his lap. You don’t even settle your weight down on him, you’re not that mean. You just kind of hold yourself above him, so, so close. “I was moving kind of like this—“ you roll your hips, make him blush just at the sight. “Kind of slow, so he could savor it, y’know? It’s not like I’m going to fuck him again after that shitshow of a date.”

“If you— if the date was so bad why did you…”

“Fuck him?��� You ask, raising a brow. Art nods wordlessly. “Because he was pretty.” You trail your hand along his face, tuck a blond curl behind his ear. He took a shaky breath, swallowed hard. “And because my friend Tiff said he was hung. She wasn’t wrong. But it doesn’t even matter, because he didn’t even last two minutes after I got on top. Waste of my fucking time.”

“That’s—“ he squeezes his eyes shut, like he can’t even think when he’s looking at you.

“It’s what, Art?” You ask, a tiny grin spreading across your lips. You drop your voice to a whisper. “Is it slutty? Do you wish I was a good girl and didn’t talk about this kind of stuff?”

He doesn’t respond, might not even be capable of trying to, honestly. You climb off his lap and settle back on the sofa beside him. You clock his boner immediately— tenting his thin pajama pants.

Jesus fucking Christ. He notices that you’re looking and grabs a random throw pillow to pull into his lap. Poor guy. If he just said the word, you’d take care of it for him.

“I’m gonna go read,” you tell him, which is a bullshit excuse. Really, your date Sean hadn’t made you cum despite the fucking monster he was packing, and seeing Art all riled up doesn’t really help.

The second you’ve shut the door, you shimmy off the dress you picked for the night and collapse onto the bed with a huff. The cute date night panties you picked were soaked, no thanks to Sean. No, it was all because of Art Donaldson. Sweet, repressed, horny-as-hell Art.

You sigh softly as your fingers tease your entrance— all wet and sensitive. Your hips cant pathetically as you trail your wet fingers to your clit, rub gently, just to get started.

You think of Art’s pathetic cries in the shower, of him waking up hard and rutting against his mattress until his boxers are sticky and soaked with cum. Patrick had told you about that— he’d laughed over the phone, talked about how adorable it was. Art insisted it wasn’t the same as jerking off the normal way since he didn’t use his hands. He probably does that a lot with how repressed he is. Your cunt throbs, aching with want.

You plunge one finger into your pussy, then a second. Any other night you might have pulled out a toy, but you wanted to make it quick. It’s nice, easy to lose yourself in the slick, warmth inside.

Your efforts on your clit speeds up. Your back arches as you grind your pussy down against your fingers. Your toes curl, head falls back.

Before you can react, the door flies open. “Hey, I just wanted to say—“ he freezes, eyes going wide. “Oh.”

But he doesn’t leave. Very obviously doesn’t leave. And you don’t stop, it’s too sweet, the way he’s looking at you. His eyes are glued to where your fingers disappear inside of your cunt, his mouth agape.

“Art,” you whine. He tears his eyes from your pussy, makes himself look into your eyes. “Shut the door.”

He swallows, closes the door behind him. You try to hide your shock that he shut the door and stayed inside of the room— that he didn’t flee and go cry in his bed because he caught a glimpse of your pussy.

But no, his back presses against the wood and he stays stuck in place as his eyes trail back down to your cunt. Soft, wet, and, god, so tempting. You can tell he wants to crawl to you on his knees, bury his face between your thighs and wait for your instructions.

“It doesn’t count if you just watch, hm?” You tease, but your voice is strangled with want— all breathy and affected. “It you come closer, you can hear how wet I am.”

It’s like he takes the steps outside of his own volition, kneels at the side of the bed like he’s going to pray. His eyes flutter shut, lashes splashed against his cheeks. God, you really are so wet— the near pornographic squelch of your fingers as they fuck into your pussy should make your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“You’re so sweet, aren’t you?” You bite down on your lip to muffle a moan, conscious that Patrick is asleep across the guest house.

You see his arm moving, know he’s stroking himself over the fabric of his pajamas. It’s like he can’t even help it, can’t resist the urge to get himself off. It’s a rush, having that power over him.

“It’s okay that you’re watching, Art. I hope you remember every second. You deserve to imagine a pretty, wet pussy while you fuck your fist.”

He whines, honest to god whines. The sound makes you cum suddenly with soft, breathy moans— drenching your fingers in your release. Your thighs tremble as you come down, and Art just looks at you with big blue eyes, like he thinks he did something wrong. You doubt he’s ever seen a girl cum before. It’s exciting, to be his first like that.

You wipe your slick fingers on your thigh and cover yourself with a throw blanket. Art’s gaze flicks back up to your eyes. “What did you come in here for, Art?”

“Huh?” He blinks a few times, shakes his head. “I, uh. I came here to tell you, uh—“

You smile, lean closer. He takes a deep breath, his jaw clenched tight. It’s like he’s angry that you dare tempt him, that you question his resolve. You think he might actually hate you for it. “Tell me…?”

“You don’t have to use your body to make people want you,” he says. “It’s like you have no self respect.”

“And what does the stain on the front of your pants say about your self respect, Art?” You say, voice dropping into a whisper. His cheeks flame, and he stands suddenly. “You had your fun, now get out before I tell Patrick you were perving on me.”

He glares at you, fixes you in place with one fiery look. It’s intoxicating— the places where his restraint runs thin. You can’t help but grin after he’s gone and you’re all alone, wondering just how easy it would be to tear those threadbare spots and reveal the needy, desperate thing beneath.