#and is still entertained by White civilizations

[papirouge]

It's 2023 and people are unironically still thinking "the White man stopped slavery 🥺" is a flaming gotcha

[eggcats]

Radioapple fic, where Lucifer decides to get to the bottom of that deer asshole's agenda and figure out what he wants with a DEAL with his DAUGHTER.

So, Lucifer decides some reconnaissance on Alastor is necessary - except it's so hard to sneak up on him with that whole shadow shtick. And every time Lucifer tries to talk to him, Alastor needles him so much they wind up fighting, even when he wasn't even trying to start a fight! Can't they have one (1) single civil conversation so he can figure out how to break this deal he has?!??! ONE!

*cough* Anyway.

Lucifer notices that Alastor doesn't bother when KeeKee invades his kitchen (he even feeds her scraps!) and just overall is fine being bothered by a cat. He can work with this. He is a master manipulator AND shape-shifter. He can also become a cat. And Alastor will never be the wiser.

(Spoiler. Alastor is the wiser. It's a white and red cat with yellow eyes that half the time has a fucking tophat on.)

The problem, though, is that ALASTOR doesn't think Lucifer is trying to hide his identity. He just thinks Lucifer decided to bother him as a cat and just took it in stride. Why not, Hell is weird enough as it is, and to be fair, it's kind of entertaining. He'll let it go. Plus, for whatever reason, he's quiet as a cat, so it's fine if he just wants to hang out near him as he works. (Alastor kind of thinks the king of hell is desperate for socialization, but it is too awkward to actually do it. Which, he's not wrong but, ouch.)

LUCIFER, HOWEVER thinks he's being the epitome of discretion. He can get close to Alastor, who will become overly comfortable and spill all his secrets to cat-him! Foolproof!

It eventually escalates to Lucifer regularly hanging out with Alastor as a cat, and after the first time where he broke into his room (as a cat!) and Alastor just let him do it - it became a habit.

(It's not Lucifer's fault if, for thousands of years, he was used to sharing a warm bed with someone, and now he has trouble sleeping alone. Not that him and Alastor are sleeping together! But. Sometimes, he curls up near him as a cat on the bed, and sometimes, they both sleep there. It's not weird! Alastor doesn't even know it's him! [He does.])

Lucifer starts going through a mild crisis one day as he realizes he likes Alastor and kind of wants to be with him (as friends! FRIENDS) as himself, and not a cat. But he has absolutely no idea how to, and kind of spirals.

Alastor walks in on him having a freak out on the couch, and just casually removes his hat and starts petting his head to calm him down.

"Wh-what are you doing?!"

"This seemed to calm you as a feline, I figured it would do the same here."

"WHAT!?"

"Is it not working? Now, what could be so dire as to have His Majesty using the hotel as his own personal room? Surely you don't wish for Charlotte to see you in such a state, sire?"

Lucifer, very quickly, has to come to terms with the fact that Alastor KNEW. (For how long????!) Are they- are they friends? Is this actually not weird?

(Lucifer might have almost forgotten about his original purpose with the deal, but that's still definitely something he'll keep a watch on. Just, maybe he can as himself, too?)

This revelation gives him a whole new set of issues. He...he still sleeps in Alastor's bed as a cat, though, right? Asking to do that as himself (even if it's still him!? Seriously, how long did Alastor know?) would be weird. Right? Right.

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

[prev]

Pure Vanilla's nightmares have lessened, recently.

He knows that's because they've left the Faerie Kingdom far behind now, so Shadow Milk has no real reason to try and provoke him into setting him free anymore, but Pure Vanilla can't help but feel hopeful that it might be indicative of some real progress too.

After all, he's been having more and more dream talks with Shadow Milk recently, and most of them are fairly civil. It hasn't stopped the mockery or taunting entirely, but he has realised that once Shadow Milk has an interesting topic of conversation to entertain, he tends to be a little less antagonistic.

Dare he say it, their acquaintance as of late has almost been... nice. Which is why, perhaps, he had mustered the courage to try and pry beyond Shadow Milk's academic career.

"I found one of your old portraits, I think. It was quite damaged." Pure Vanilla says slowly, because he has spent an embarrassing amount of his spare time recently trying to track down any relics from Shadow Milk's past, to be able to prompt him with them. "...You looked rather different."

Today, the dreamscape takes the form of Pure Vanilla's personal chambers, albeit bathed in darkness that is broken up by the fragile light of the moon, filtering in through the tall windows. Pure Vanilla is sat in his familiar armchair, relaxed without his staff or hat on his person, and keeping his idle gaze on his conversation partner. Shadow Milk is floating by his bookshelves, walking his fingers along the spines of the books. His back is towards him, but his extra eyes blink lazily at Pure Vanilla in silent acknowledgement.

"Why does that matter?" Shadow Milk drawls, before letting out an overdramatic gasp. He kicks back, tilting until he hangs upside-down in the air as he clasps his hands to his chest like he is heartbroken, their gazes snapping together like magnets. "I never would have expected you, of all people, to care about appearances so much! Am I not pretty enough as I am, is that it?"

His laments could have gone on for much longer, but Pure Vanilla cut him off quickly, slightly exasperated. "No, no, that wasn't what I was saying, and you know that."

Shadow Milk stops his fake wailing immediately, eyes curved into mischievious crescents as he glances over at him, and Pure Vanilla sighs. "It's just... interesting, I suppose. You look like two completely different people – unless it really wasn't your portrait?"

Shadow Milk bobs his head from side to side as if he were physically turning the words over in his head, before a thin mean smile slices clean across his face. "People change, Vani! Shouldn't you know that already, knowing our dear Guardian?"

Pure Vanilla tenses in his seat, balling his hands into fists in his lap. "I told you not to talk about her, didn't I?" He mutters with a frown, reminded once again that a conversation with Shadow Milk can never be completely smooth.

"Did you? I must not have heard you." Shadow Milk hums, righting himself in a way that involves far too much limb contortion. He drifts over to the table Pure Vanilla is sitting at, leaning against the edge and casually sweeping the vase of white lilies there off the table with one arm, quick enough that Pure Vanilla can barely react.

The vase shatters with a crash, and the half-bloomed petals are ruined by the fall. Pure Vanilla jolts, aching at the sight and his voice falls out pitched. "Shadow Milk-!"

"It's only a dream, no need to get worked up over it." Shadow Milk replies, tone carrying an edge of annoyance, though Pure Vanilla isn't sure why. Shadow Milk perches on the edge of the table with one leg over the other, lounging as he props himself up with one hand, his expression odd.

Still, he is right. It is only a dream, and Pure Vanilla cannot let himself be affected so easily anyway. He hesitantly tears his gaze away from the broken vase, turning his attention back to his curiosity, which is easy to do with Shadow Milk's face now right in front of him.

Pure Vanilla occupies himself with comparing the face before him with the memory of that portrait, eyes carefully tracing every visible difference in the wavering moonlight. The way his face is framed is different, for one, with the loss of his monocle and the change in his icing, and it makes him look harsher. His colour is off, somehow, and his silhouette has twisted too. That once collected, near regal posture has been overtaken by the lax, twisting strangeness that Shadow Milk often moves with, but to say it is gone completely isn't true. The smooth line of his back, even lounging like this, holds the ghost of that perfect posture.

And his eyes—

"Your eyes are the same." Pure Vanilla doesn't even notice he has spoken aloud until the words have fallen out of his mouth, soft and light like feathers.

It is true, though. His eyes aren't exactly the same physically, the pupils having grown to slits, but the spark and sharpness of them are just like the ones captured in that portrait. If he focuses on them, Pure Vanilla can almost imagine that he is there before everything went wrong, sharing a moment with that brilliant, revered scholar.

He is so mesmerised by those eyes that he immediately notices the way they crinkle in the corners, glittering with thinly veiled amusement, just before Shadow Milk snickers. "I know my eyes are stunningly handsome, but you can talk to me while you get lost in them. There's nothing more boring than silence!"

Pure Vanilla blinks quickly in response, startled out of his dreamy contemplation. Instantly, he feels the heat of embarrassment begin to darken his cheeks, and he closes his eyes on instinct, ducking his head slightly. Shadow Milk's giggles coil around his shoulders, and to move on from his own bout of confusion, Pure Vanilla frantically tries to pin down a conversation topic.

"Never mind that. You always insist on maintaining conversations with me." Pure Vanilla comments, something like concern and the beginnings of anxiety heavy on his tongue. "I know your circumstance doesn't allow for socialisation, but can you not even talk to your friends?"

It's a risky question, and Pure Vanilla knows that, even before he asks it. He has done his best to steer clear of topics that are even remotely related to Shadow Milk's imprisonment so far, for fear of provoking him. But this question has been simmering in his mind for a while now, so it is the only one he could think of in his haste. He won't be able to learn more about him if he doesn't press further, anyway, and now is as good a time as any.

Pure Vanilla had expected a bit of a pause, the sort of charged silence he has grown to expect from Shadow Milk when he is faced with a question he actually wants to consider, so he is surprised by the near immediate response.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I can." Shadow Milk replies, sounding remarkably flippant about it.

Pure Vanilla takes a moment to try and find a way to word himself delicately, hands fidgeting where they rest in his lap. "...Well, you always act like I'm the only person you talk to regularly. I thought, perhaps, you're–"

Lonely, but Pure Vanilla cannot get the word past his teeth, biting down on it uncomfortably. He has a feeling saying that wouldn't be well-received, or at the very least, not taken seriously.

Shadow Milk seems to understand the implication anyway, scoffing. There's a scramble of movement, and that prompts Pure Vanilla to open his eyes again, finding that Shadow Milk has dropped down to lay across the table on his back.

"I can tell you what I am, I'm bored. Why do you think we're so desperate to get out, huh? It's because there's nothing to do!" Shadow Milk throws his arms up, gesturing wildly as his voice starts swinging and his expression pinches with building agitation, kicking his legs furiously over the edge of the table. For the first time, Pure Vanilla is stricken by how similar it looks to a Cake Wolf pacing a cage, driven to a frenzy by claustrophobia. "We can talk to each other, but do you have any idea how long we've been stuck in there? We've run out of topics years ago, and they don't entertain my debates in the right way anyhow. There's no fun in that!"

Without warning, Shadow Milk flies up into a sitting position, his form blurring and peeling at the edges. Pure Vanilla watches him with concern as he lets out a raspy huff, teetering on the edge of a laugh.

"But I like talking to you so I do. That's all there is to it." Shadow Milk declares, voice lilting to something sweeter. A crooked smile surfaces on his face, and he jerks forward in an unnatural manner, as if he were a puppet on strings. He cups Pure Vanilla's face in his hands who, having slowly adjusted to the fact that Shadow Milk is prone to impulsive physical contact, only flinches slightly at the suddenness. "Did that never occur to you, silly?"

Pure Vanilla's mouth opens and closes soundlessly, settling into an uncertain line. To hear Shadow Milk say that so frankly caught him off-guard, as he always does, torn between suspicion and that tempting optimism that has been slowly gathering in his heart. "Well, I wasn't–"

His voice crumbles in his throat as Shadow Milk pulls his face towards him and presses a scorching kiss to the four-point star on his forehead. The dreaded warmth returns to gather in his face, made obvious by the contrast between the flush and the cold press of his hands.

He shouldn't be so flustered - this isn't the closest they've been - but his embarrassment only makes it worse.

"Don't overthink everything, you'll turn your brain into charcoal. That would just be a pity." Shadow Milk teases against his forehead, his dozens of eyes winking with silent laughter as he pulls back, hands slipping from his face and—

—Pure Vanilla wakes up, frazzled and unsure. He stares at the ceiling, hesitantly pressing a hand to his forehead. His dough is buzzing.

He lays there for a while, confused by the warmth within him and considering the interaction once more. Shadow Milk said he enjoyed talking to him, and Pure Vanilla believes him, if only because he really does seem engaged with their conversations.

And if that's true, then maybe they really can resolve everything through words. For all his strangeness, Shadow Milk does seem to follow some sort of line of logic during their debates, and logic, regardless of what kind, has the chance to be reasoned with.

He thinks of sharp, painted eyes and countless conversations on studies, research, literature, philosophy. He thinks of claustrophobic madness and the endless hunger of the scholar and pity, pity, pity.

Pure Vanilla sighs, and for the first time in very long, he finds himself tempted to return to sleep.

[next]

[sinsandsweetness]

Girl I have a weird fantasy about Daryl being a trucker before the world ended, like he’s older and picks me up on the side of the road after I’ve left home and tells me if he’s gonna take me where I want I go, I’ve gotta give him somthing to make it worth it.

Then giving him sloppy road-head and getting fucked in the cab till I’m dumb

Absolutely love your writing babe 😘

I actually rlly love this. especially since I’ve dated a truck driver who looks like young Norman and will literally sleep the whole time in the cab when he goes on jobs…

I imagine you sitting in the passenger seat, cross legged and snacking on some licorice from a gas station. You’re almost 6 hours into the drive. Still another two nights until you’re in the state you actually want to be in. Nice and far from all the bullshit you’re running away from.

Daryl keeps glancing over at you reading your book, leaned up against the window. Paying special attention to how short your denim cutoffs are and how tight your white tanktop is. Leaving almost nothing to the imagination. The thought dawns on him that in two hours, when the sun has set and both of your eyelids are getting all heavy, he’ll have to pull over at a rest stop. And when he saw you with your duffel bag and your bright red boots, sticking your thumb out as you walked along the shoulder of the highway, he didn’t think about the fact that there’s only one bed in the cab. One, tiny, little mattress, and two of you. You’re way too far in the middle of nowhere to find a motel either. No service. No trace of civilization for at least a couple hundred miles.

Wow. You must be stupid or something. To get in a truck with a stranger. Hell, he could have been some kind of creep. Have you seen any horror movie ever?

He looks back over at you during his internal questioning. Gosh you’re pretty. Effortlessly stunning. Hair a little wild and undone. No makeup on that he can tell at least, but he’s never really been good at noticing that stuff anyway. You’ve got layers of mixed metal jewelry. Necklaces and rings and earrings. All glimmering in the golden hour sun. You kicked your boots off hours ago. Blue polish all chipped off nearly all of your toes. Truthfullt, you’re kind of a mess. A pretty one though.

“What?” You ask him, your honeyed voice brings his brain back to earth.

“Oh- uh… nothin’,” he looks back at the road. Where he should be looking anyway. “Just, it’s gonna be dark soon. Won’t be able to read.” He keeps darting his gaze over at you while he talks.

“That’s ok. I’m sure I’ll find something else to entertain myself with.”

“You should try and sleep. Don’t think we’ll pass a motel until tomorrow night.”

“Oh that’s okay, I’ll just sleep when you do.”

He was hoping you wouldn’t. He was hoping he could avoid the awkwardness of the sleeping situation altogether.

“Yeah, I mean if you want. There’s only one bed so I just thought-“

“What, you don’t wanna share?” You’re giving him a look that he can’t decipher. Are you… flirting with him? You toss your book into your bag and unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Uh- what are you- what are you doin’?” He asks as you climb into the back.

“Well since you’re kickin’ me to the floor I guess I’ll try and catch some z’s before you pull over.” He’s glancing back every few seconds. Trying to keep his attention on the road, but a little too intrigued by you peeling your shorts off to succeed in doing it.

“I’m not- I wouldn’t make you sleep on the floor, I just didn’t- I don’t want to -“ fuck. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to sleep with him. Like you had to share the dingy little sleeper cab that can barely fit his own broad shoulders, let alone another person. An incredibly attractive and insanely good smelling girl. One that’s bending over to fix the sheets and baring her lacy hot pink thong in the process. His eyes widen and get all shifty. Should he look? Should he pretend he doesn’t see?

“Don’t want to what? Sleep with me?” You scoff as you sit back on the bed thing your hair up into a messy blob at the top of your head with a hair tie.

“No I-”

“Don’t worry, I know what you mean. But I really don’t mind. In fact, I probably owe you anyway.”

“O-owe me? I already told you I’m going your way anyhow.” He says, reminding you of his refusal to take any cash.

“I know, but you’ve been so nice and sweet for picking me up in the first place. Wanna make it up to you.” You’re voice is low and sultry. And your words go straight to the tent in his jeans, the one that’s been half hard and ignored since he first invited you into the truck. He glances back at your half naked frame, relaxing into the sleeper cab mattress. Seeing your tanned legs and pretty panties. Wild hair and a playful, up to absolutely no good look in your eyes.

He wants to focus on the road. He does. But his mind is racing with all the ways you could make it up to him. Since you’re offering that is. And he really doesn’t know how much longer he can pretend he doesn’t want to pull over and plow you til the sun comes up. Especially with the way you’re looking at him, hand trailing down to tickle at the waistband of your underwear, biting your lip and flipping through your own filthy fantasies about the handsome, young trucker who’s been kind enough to help you out.

He catches your gaze as he glances back once more and the lustful look in his baby blues sends a jolt straight between your legs. You smile and lick your lips, wanting to be extra clear of your intentions,

“I’m ready whenever you are, pretty boy.”

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 27 : Monkey vs bone demon

It's LBD chapter!!!

Wukong has been acting quite odd lately. Macaque always knew his golden-furred friend was a very clingy lad, he always thought it was because of his nature as a monkey, monkeys were social creatures after all. But lately, Wukong took it upon himself to praise him for the littlest of things. When Macaque gathered twigs and leaves for the fire, Wukong praised him for his thoughtful nature. When he healed some unfortunate bruises with his balms, the sage sang about his vast knowledge on herbs and plants. He was praised for his nimble fingers and his braid-weaving skills, for the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he laughed. Every little thing he did was showered with admiration from the sage.

Bajie seemed to be quite entertained by the sage's odd behavior, he always clapped and whistled, an infuriating knowing smirk etched on his snout. Wujing, as always, was more peaceful about it, throwing encouraging glances at the golden-furred monkey. Ao Lie joined Bajie at times, and cooed other times, acting like what he was seeing was the most adorable thing on earth. The only one who acted with some semblance of normalcy was Sanzang. The monk raised an eyebrow each time Wukong twisted himself to praise Macaque and let it slide with an embarrassed smile before looking elsewhere. Like always, thought Macaque, the kid was the most sensible out of all of them.

Macaque was on the sage's shoulders, nibbling on some fruit pieces.

“The way you eat is very cute, Macaque.” Cooed Wukong with a swishing tail, somewhat excited by something. Macaque raised an eyebrow and sighed.

“You're praising me for the way I eat?” Answered the black-furred monkey. Bajie bursted laughing, his snorts echoing around the pilgrims.

“This is gold!” Wheezed the pig as he clutched his stomach, Wujing patted the pig back, trying to calm his laughter.

“Shut it, Piglet!” Growled Wukong as he turned towards Bajie.

“You got a problem, monkey?” Replied Bajie with a sneer, Sanzang intervened before it could escalate further.

“Why don't you go search for food, Wukong?” Sighed the monk, he was less nervous around the golden-furred monkey than he was at the beginning of the journey but there was still a lingering apprehension in his voice. Wukong glared at the monk, he calmed down once Macaque put his lil paw on his cheek.

“Yes, Master.” Sighed the sage as he stepped on his cloud and flew away with Macaque.

“You're beginning to like these pilgrims, don't you?” Asked Macaque as they were searching for a house to beg for food. Wukong huffed like a petulant child and crossed his arms.

“I'm tolerating them.”

“Come on, I know you had some laughs with Ao Lie and you like Wujing.” Chuckled Macaque as he playfully nudged Wukong's face with his tiny paws.

“I'm just being civil.” Huffed Wukong but there was the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Reaaally?” Teased Macaque as he pawed at Wukong's cheek to annoy him. The sage fondly rolled his eyes and took Macaque in his hands.

“Really, you lil devil.” Chuckled the golden-furred monkey as he tickled the lil guy. Macaque shrieked with laughter and tried to push Wukong's fingers away, in vain.

They returned to the pilgrims after finding food. A woman was with the pilgrims, offering them some sort of bowl. Macaque shivered at her sight, there was something about her that unsettled the black-furred monkey. Wukong fur bristled and he showed his fangs, growling. He took Macaque and put him in the heart-pocket, then he pounced on the woman and killed her with one powerful blow on the head. The woman turned into bones, her remains falling in the pearl-white snow.

“Wukong! What have you done?” Shriked Sanzang as he clutched his staff in horror.

“She was a demon, Master! A nasty one. Look at her remains, it's unnatural.” Growled Wukong. “Her spirit escaped.”

“Or maybe you killed her by accident and you're using magic to convince us she was a demon.” Huffed Bajie with crossed arms. Sanzang eyes narrowed at the accusation and he glared at the sage, Macaque intervened before the monk could do something he'll regret later on.

“Let's calm ourselves! Kiddo, you promised me to not use the circlet.” Growled Macaque, Sanzang opened his mouth and then averted his eyes in shame.

“Sorry, Mister Fairy…” He mumbled.

“Why would Wukong lie about this?” Argued Macaque as he put his hands on his hips, he jumped out of Wukong's shoulders and landed in the snow, looking up at the pilgrims.

“Of course you defend him.” Sneered Bajie. Wukong bristled at his tone of voice.

“Do not take this tone with Macaque.” Warned the sage with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Let's all calm down.” Worried Wujing.

“But it's obvious that the monkey-” Ao Lie cut Bajie by hitting him with his hooves.

“... I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions, Wukong. But, please, tell me before doing something like this.” Sighed Sanzang.

“So what do we do about the demon, you said her spirit escaped, right?” Asked Ao Lie as he tilted his horse head.

“We'll seal her.” Replied Sanzang with a determined gaze.

“What? But Master we need to kill-”

“We'll seal her.” Repeated Sanzang as he straightened himself to appear more confident, Wukong sighed and ruffled his hair in frustration.

“Alright…” He replied, Sanzang breathed a sigh of relief.

Macaque climbed Wukong again and settled on his shoulder, glad he managed to calm the tensions.

“Thanks for defending me.” Mumbled Wukong as he scratched under Macaque's chin.

“Always.” Softly replied Macaque with a small smile, Wukong looked at him with an unreadable expression before turning away, the tip of his ears reddening.

+ cut scenes

Wukong *watching Macaque defends him* : Bae 🥰🥹

Wukong *when Bajie began to sneer at Macaque* : so you chose death 😡

 

Macaque : why is Wukong acting so weird with me? 🤔

Wukong *looking at Macaque with heart eyes* : 😍

The wind : I think my bro is blind 😮‍💨

 

LBD *trying to trick the pilgrims* : this is easy 😌

Wukong *pouncing out of nowhere* : not on my watch! 😠

 

Fun fact : Sanzang is more or less afraid of all the pilgrims at different levels except Macaque, because Macaque is tiny and not unkind to him.

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[happypolicecherry]

The White Tiger and the Six Eyes

The room was tense, the air filled with anticipation as the sister school event commenced. It was an annual tradition, bringing together the strongest jujutsu sorcerers from both schools for a spectacle of power and strategy. But this year, all eyes weren’t on the participants—they were on the new panel judge.

She stood quietly at the edge of the stage, arms crossed and tail swishing lazily behind her. Ears perched high atop her head twitched with each sound, her sharp eyes scanning the students below like a predator sizing up prey. Her presence was intimidating, not because of her imposing demeanor, but because she was an anomaly—both a curse and a sorcerer, something most people had only heard whispers about.

Satoru Gojo leaned back in his chair, arms draped casually over the backrest as he watched her from his seat among the other judges. He wasn’t one to be easily impressed, but there was something undeniably captivating about her. He had heard the rumors, of course—of the tiger woman who had lived in seclusion, far from the watchful eyes of the jujutsu society, only making her presence known when she felt like it. But seeing her in person? That was something else.

Her name was Y/n, though many simply called her the White Tiger. She had been raised far away from civilization, hidden deep in the forests, where she honed her abilities in isolation. The hybrid curse within her had marked her as something too dangerous for normal society, yet too valuable to ignore completely. She was the kind of enigma that Gojo found fascinating—wild, untamed, and utterly unpredictable.

The event had only just begun, and she had already captured everyone’s attention. Her tiger-like features, sharp claws, and that constant, low hum of danger that surrounded her made the students nervous. She could sense it, of course—she could smell their anxiety, hear their racing hearts, feel their fear. And she reveled in it. Not out of malice, but because it reminded her of the life she had once led, where survival had been her only concern.

As the first match began, her gaze remained fixed on the participants, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of someone watching her—closely. She glanced over her shoulder, catching Gojo’s eyes through his usual blindfold. He was smirking, of course, that cocky, carefree expression that seemed permanently etched on his face.

Gojo waved lazily at her. “Enjoying the show, tiger?”

Her lips curled slightly, baring a hint of sharp teeth. “If I wanted a show, I’d hunt,” she replied coolly, her voice carrying the hint of a growl.

Gojo chuckled. “Fair enough. But I have to admit, you’ve piqued my interest. Not every day you meet someone who’s part curse and still on this side of the battlefield.”

She turned to face him fully, her tail flicking once as her keen eyes narrowed. “I’m not like the others,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “And I’m not here to entertain you, Gojo.”

“Hmm, no, I suppose not,” he mused, tilting his head as if studying her. “But I can’t help but wonder... are you really here to judge? Or is this just another hunt?”

For a moment, she didn’t respond. She could feel the weight of his words, the subtle challenge laced beneath them. She had been raised in the wilderness, far from the complex rules and hierarchies of jujutsu sorcerers. And now, standing in front of someone as powerful and untouchable as Gojo, she realized how different their worlds were. He was untethered, much like her, yet bound to a society that revered him. She was an outsider, both feared and respected, but always on the edge of things.

“Maybe it’s both,” she finally said, stepping closer to him. “Or maybe I’m here because I’m curious about what makes this world so special.” She glanced at the students fighting below. “I’ve seen what survival looks like. This? This is just a game.”

Gojo’s smirk deepened. “And yet, you’re playing.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t.”

The tension between them was electric, neither willing to back down. She wasn’t used to being challenged—especially not by someone as self-assured as Gojo. But there was something about his energy, the way he held himself, that intrigued her. He wasn’t afraid of her, and that in itself was something new.

As the event continued, the two of them exchanged more words, their banter filled with a mixture of curiosity and challenge. Gojo would poke at her, trying to get a rise out of the tiger lurking beneath her calm exterior, while she would push back, never giving him the satisfaction of seeing her lose control. It was a dance, one that neither of them seemed eager to end.

Later that day, when the students had been dismissed and the arena emptied, She found herself alone on the balcony, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The wild part of her craved the open skies and the freedom of the forest, but there was a part of her now, one she didn’t fully understand, that kept her tethered here.

“You know, you don’t have to stay,” came Gojo’s voice from behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know he was there.

“I’m not here because I want to stay,” she replied.

“Then why?”

Her ears flicked as she considered the question. She wasn’t sure she had an answer. Not yet, anyway.

“Maybe I’m curious,” she said, her voice softer now. “About this world. About you.”

Gojo stepped beside her, leaning against the railing with his usual ease. “Curiosity, huh? Well, that makes two of us, tiger.”

She glanced at him, eyes sharp as ever. “Just don’t think you can tame me.”

Gojo laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I think you’re far more interesting when you’re wild.”

She didn’t respond, but a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Maybe, just maybe, there was something in this world worth staying for after all.

[sanguinesorceress]

Face to Fangs

[ Continued from here. ]

A kiss of ringing crystal filled the air, temporarily banishing the eerie silence that often accompanied the Sorceress’ ominous presence.  No laughter or merriment would ensue; no celebration would follow; and surely no romantic candlelit dinner proceeded in the wake of its resonant song.  Memories of civility served her in death, allowing her to behave in a manner others found pleasing… daresay appealing?  Thus, the Sorceress was able to turn on the charm in one moment and commit heinous acts of murder in the next.  Decorum was fleeting whilst in the company of one such as herself and it was the real reason why he considered her to be dangerous. The glass was raised, and with a flick of her wrist the dark liquid swirled vigorously at her command.  A tilt of her chin allowed her to examine the wine’s properties in the pale moonlight, and she watched as the magical residue clung to the side of the crystal bowl. She had tasted them all, from a simple Thalassian white, to a finely aged Dalaran red.   The former Magistrix had a refined palate when it came to enjoying a good vintage.  Now, she preferred to sip on the rarer and harder to procure bottles of infused wines, such as Arcwine, Bloodwine, or a finely aged bottle of Redalav’s from the other side of the veil.

Seemingly satisfied with the wine’s appearance, Malakortana lowered the glass to her nose and inhaled deeply, indulging in its bouquet.  Evidently some things were still considered worthy of taking a breath, which she held briefly, before allowing it to slowly escape.  “Hypocrisy…?” she snorted derisively, “…hardly.  Evolution for the sake of acquiring power, as they say, is a decision that should be made without the removal of one’s free will.”  Otherwise it could hardly be considered ‘ascension’ at all.  She would know...

The Sorceress entertained a sip of the wine, exploring the memories and sensations it stirred within her, before swallowing.  It tasted precisely as she remembered, with a subtle infusion of bloodberries that softened the unmistakable aftertaste --a harsh, metallic twinge.  Well worth its price. Everything paled in comparison, however, to a bottle of Nightrose Darkwine.  Something she had not seen in a very… long… time.  Rumor had it the highly coveted, once-thought-to-be-forever-lost recipe was recently uncovered amidst the ancient Challiane Vineyards’ ruins.  Perhaps she would enlist someone to get into contact with Empyrean Imports on her behalf in the near future.  Surely their proprietor would know more. They found a new way to hurt you.

While his ‘educated guess’ was not wrong, it wasn’t entirely correct either.  “No,” she clarified, “I seek a means of impeding their ability to regain control.”  What good came from installing an impenetrable door if one did not possess the only key to lock it? @nixalegos ( @safrona-shadowsun for the mention <3)

[sunnist4rs]

Blare White is super misogynistic… he also supports trump. You know the anti abortion, pro rape guy. I think you may be defining who you love/idolize and what you say you think based on who entertains you the most on social media/YouTube and your personal connections rather than really getting into WHY each view is right or wrong factually/ethically, and aiming to be consistent. To be clear I myself am a radfem and (within that) critical of gender ideology I am not trying to convince you to not criticize gender ideology or to not criticize specific trans identified people. Yes: some people Blaire white and that kind of guy opposes are also fucked up people who do harm. But the enemy of an enemy does not alone make a friend and I encourage you to look with a more critical eye at anyone aligned right wing and against women, whether they are novelties or famous on YouTube or whatever else or not

Among other things remember Blaire white is just a man who calls self woman but hates the other men who call themselves women. His critique of them is typically either copied (without him really understanding) from feminist women, or at other times basically rooted in him saying those other trans women are ugly or don’t pass or haven’t done [insert random shit] “Blaire” thinks makes him a real woman and these other trans women into pretenders. It’s just an egotistical man getting attention and money off of this while still claiming he’s a woman and doing so for sexist (“I pass as feminine so that makes me a woman” = sexist) reasons. This issue that is actually impacting women and girls (a category that doesn’t include him)

Thanks for sending me this ask (and being so civil about it). Before I joined the radfem community (and when I wrote my bio) I was pretty conservative but the more evidence of woman’s oppression I’ve seen, the more leftist I’ve become. This has left me feeling kind of lost because the people like Blair White who I used to turn to for comfort on bad days and to hear what I thought were reasonable political opinions no longer click with me. I don’t resonate with her (I’m gonna use she/her even though I’m he’s a dude because I do have that personal attachment right now so it just feels right) beliefs anymore but distancing myself from her feels wrong because she’s been a part of my life for a while, y’know.

I don’t watch YouTube much so I haven’t seen one of her videos since I became a radfem. But, I do remember how my old community used to act so Ik if I did watch another video of hers I’d be disgusted and disappointed by her behaviour (I almost want to avoid watching her at all so that I can keep pretending I align with her side- also I’m aware this is pretty parasocial, I’ll work on that). While I’ve become more aware of this I’ve continued to defend and preach how good her content is as a way of pretending I do still like her to myself. I knew I was doing this but I didn’t really think about it until now.

I’m pretty good at thinking critically about the media I consume, it’s just something I’ve always done when discovering something new to enjoy. But I think Ive developed a blind spot for people I previously loved as while I agreed with them in the past. Now however, me promoting their ideology is hypocritical at best. I’ve been practicing separatism (that’s not the word I want to use Ik it) more and more in my daily life. I now realise the next step I need to take is starting to distance myself from these people as they’re making me into someone I don’t want to be (hypocrites are one of my biggest red flags).

Thanks again for the ask as it’s genuinely helped me uncover a therapeutic break through lol. Whether or not that was your intent it’s definitely gonna help me be a better feminist and improve my life so thanks.

[beardedmrbean]

Zoomer Huey, I tend to see people saying why Gen z don’t have sex much.

Holy

Fucking

Shits

These journalists surprisedly have WORSE self awareness than there boomer relatives

Here a hint https://x.com/swannmarcus89/status/1762582001507323991?s=46

And gender dynamics are…nuked in the fields they are surveying. Women and girls are told that all men are predators and misandry is left unchecked

Also, why Hollywood act surprised about the sex abuse?

We all heard about the casting coach, and how suspiciously people from working class backgrounds like Micheal Jackson (yes his dad had his music connections. But essentially mj was a slave and was arguably was the first black child star unless I’m missing someone) and Walt Disney (though not as bad) are painted as monsters while the actual monsters are protected for decades

I mean look at Judy Garland, she was a sweet person and she did help the LBGT in Hollywood and supported the civil rights movement

But her “crazy” behavior makes more sense because she was sexually abused at a extremely young age

And she not the only one, Shirley Temple, the boy who played at the first LA Dennis the Manis

Oh and the Peter Pan actor (a lot of people leave out the part where ALL of Hollywood basically says he can choke and die because he was “too” Disney)

But sorry about the Gen stuff, but the false rape accusations, maybe if you guys didn’t view men (especially white ones) the same way Nazis viewed the Jews while saying all the working class men were Weinstein.

My Gen would have more sex

Entertainment industry has been like that since the beginning of forever, probably less so when women weren't allowed to participate but still a thing I'm sure.

As for Judy Garland it was nice to see people come out swinging in her defense when someone tried to start shit over well

She was not in control of her carer, saying no was not an option for her with this, but dumbasses that can only think in terms of today's standards never think about that.

Jay North (Dennis the Menace) did ok, so did Shirley Temple, plenty of others not so much, more recently we can look at Drew Barrymore and RDJ who both had fairly public meltdowns and problems.

Drew was ruined since her first film was ET and Spielberg takes care of the kids on set, going beyond the legal requirements.

Bobby Driscol was the Peter Pan VA top of his Wiki article.

Robert "Bobby" Cletus Driscoll (March 3, 1937 – c. March 30, 1968) was an American actor who performed on film and television from 1943 to 1960. He starred in some of the Walt Disney Studios' best-known live-action pictures of that period: Song of the South (1946), So Dear to My Heart (1949), and Treasure Island (1950), as well as RKO's The Window (1949). He served as the animation model and provided the voice for the title role in Peter Pan (1953). He received an Academy Juvenile Award for outstanding performances in So Dear to My Heart and The Window.

He just fell into the child actor pit, where he wasn't "cute" anymore couldn't get gigs and couldn't adjust to not being in the spotlight, the way he went and nobody knowing is awful to think about still.

Jackie Coogan, on the other hand was a different story.

His parents sucked and as a result there's a series of laws named after him California's Coogan Law all about protecting the earnings of child actors from their parents. % goes into a trust iirc.

He ended up OK in the end though

The false accusation thing, #me too hurt women because #believe women was taken advantage of to such a degree that even this coming out to light

has still probably not cleared up for the trooper, and men are opting to not mentor women because of not wanting to risk a false accusation, everyone screams about how rare they are, to which I say so what, why should they assume the risk even if it's minor

Former VP Mike Pence came out and said he won't be alone with a woman that's not his wife in order to ensure that there is no possibility of someone making a claim of impropriety.

And he got this response

Why is anyone going to put their neck on the line when something like what he said is going to get this kind of response.

Maybe instead of crying about how rare false accusations are they should focus on shaming the people making them and coming up with solutions to keep them from happening.

You know instead of blaming the victims of the false accusations.

All this and so much more going on that isn't in this ask goes to the I don't blame people for not having as much sex, it's actually kinda nice too, fewer std's this way.

I went on a couple tangents, hope that's ok

[jaehyunsprincesspeach2]

Soooooo I feel like being chaotic so I was wondering if you can do like a head cannon for us SWORD leaders fall for the same girl??????? 😭 that is if you are still writing for high & low.

I love this request omg, the chaos that could come of this omggg

Thank you for the request anon, I hope you enjoy!!!

Much love ~ ember

S.W.O.R.D Leaders Fall for the Same Girl

This is could potentially be disastrous

I could see this going one of two ways

Either there is going to be a ton of fighting in SWORD, or there will be a blanket of tension covering the entire city

If there is a lot of fighting, there is a chance that you will become overwhelmed with the guys all asking you to take care of them after their fights

If there is a lot of tension, it may be uncomfortable to really go anywhere

The nice thing, is that no matter where you go, someone will always be protecting you, and will never let you near a fight

Regardless, the chaos that would ensue from this might be entertaining to watch from an outside perspective

Cobra:

Cobra is not one to start an unnecessary fight, but if he is hanging out with you and someone tries to take you away from him, he's throwing hands on sight

If a fight does start, he is bringing someone (probably Yamato) to get you away from the area so that you don't get hurt

Does everything he can to protect you, but he is also a busy guy trying to keep SWORD from falling apart

Honestly, I could see him calling all of the other leaders and trying to have a civil conversation to find a solution

But what is the solution in this situation? See who you decide you want to be with

Really there isn't a great solution, but he would try to find one regardless

Whatever decision you come to, whoever you decide that you want to be with, he will support and respect your decisions, he just wants you to be happy

Rocky:

Rocky will not show anyone what he is thinking

He could be preparing for a fight, or he could be thinking about what he's going to eat later in the day

Even you don't know what he's thinking until he tells you

Lucky for you, he opens himself to you more than anyone else, so usually you do know what he is thinking

If you are in White Rascals territory, there is not a single place you are going alone

Even if its just to the restroom, he is waiting right outside

And if he can't be there, he has someone else accompany you

If he has any suspicion that there is going to be a fight, he will take you somewhere safe himself, before he returns to the fight

Spends a lot of time with you at the club, cause he knows it is one of the safest places for you

Another one who will respect your decisions, though when he is alone, may rampage slightly, at least one glass will be thrown at a wall

Regardless, even if you decide that Rocky isn't the one for you, he protects you no matter what

Murayama:

Murayama has no issues fighting, even if it's right in front of you

However, he will still take the time to make sure that you are safe, and don't end up getting hurt

Keeps his cool laid back attitude when he is in public with you

But if it's just the two of you, he's an absolute teddy bear

Baby just wants to spend time with you

Takes you to Oya High and sits with you on the roof

If he sees any of the other SWORD leaders, his whole demeanor changes, and you can feel the tension in his energy

Holds you a little tighter when this happens

I think he would be willing to go to the meeting that Cobra called, though he wants you for himself

He wont show a lot of his emotions unless it's just the two of you alone

He has a reputation to uphold afterall

If you decide that he isn't the one for you, he will be visibly upset, though he won't take any anger or frustration out on you

Warning for anyone else around, stay out of his way

Smokey

Smokey is not one of unnecessary fighting. He would only fight if there was a direct threat to you, or if someone was coming at him

Smokey is the quietest of all of the leaders, so honestly I don't think that the others will even know that the two of you know each other at first

When Smokey sees another SWORD leader eying you, he doesn't say anything, just gently grabs your arm and takes you somewhere else

Very gentle with you at all times, no matter how tense or on edge he is

Takes you to the top of nameless city to see the views from above

If there is a fight that breaks out, he keeps you as far away from it as possible

Quiet with you, yet he still opens up to you about things on his mind

Trusts you completely, and supports you with any decision that you make

Hyuga

Hyuga is a different breed overall lmaoo

He is still protective and gentle with you

However if there is a fight that breaks out, he's not gonna necessarily move you out of the way, he's just gonna make sure that nobody lays a single finger on you

Sort of acts like a frat boy around you

Confident that he can take care of you, and is not afraid to show that

Opens up to you in a weird sort of way

It's never really long deep talks, more like one new fact about him per day kind of thing

When the two of you run into another SWORD leader, he is yelling at them

Something like “can I help you Cobra?” or “schools in session Murayama, better get to class” something like that lol

Honestly makes you royalty of Daruma family, and nobody dares to contest that

If you decide that he is not the one for you, he still won't take his anger out on you, though he may show it as hes walking away

Overall:

I highly suggest not letting all of the SWORD leaders fall for you unless you want to see the most chaos of your life

I mean, if it happens, what can you do right?

Please do your best not to let the entirety of SWORD go down in flames, dearest reader

On the bright side, regardless of who you decide you want to be with, there really is no bad option here

Any of them would treat you like an absolute queen

Really, no wrong choice here, but I'll leave that up to you

[lcverrpc]

voodoo , witchcraft and the rpc

or  why you should think before including voodoo in your roleplay . ( this will contain discussions of slavery and racism , for my own comfort i will not be going into true detail of these and the other dark topics surrounded with the stereotypes )

now , i would like to preface this by saying i am not a practitioner or follower of the voodoo ( vodou but for the sake of this post we'll use voodoo ) religion , however i am black ( caribbean specifically ) and after seeing an uptick of voodoo in the rpc lately , it's occurred to me that this puts me in the position to say something . so lets get into it .

witches and magic have been a staple of both the horror and supernatural genres for years and voodoo has worked its way into the entertainment industry alongside this but lets get into what vodoo actually is : a religion with its own spiritual hierarchies , ritual ceremonies, customs and practises .

a closed religion at that .

unless you are invited into it , you can not and should not practise it . it was developed by african slaves - it's entire foundation incorporates blended religions , cultures and sufferings of african slaves . it's commonly known that enslaved people were separated from their religious and spiritual identities , the only way that this knowledge and religion still exists is from being passed down from generation to generation .

'what if my muse was invited into it?' in my opinion , you as a mun who has not been invited into this religion who does not practise it , can not fully understand the weight , traditions and complexities of it . even with research , you will be missing pieces of the information .

closed religion aside , lets now talk about the stereotypes surrounding voodoo and magic .

the term black magic was often used in regards to african spirituality and in media it's not uncommon to see voodoo be used and misrepresented as something backwards , perverse and downright evil . where does this come from ? well as simple as i can make it , it's racism . voodoo and hoodoo were used to further demonise black people , it gave us the reputation that we could enslave you , that we would take away your will and autonomy and force good innocent white people into doing things they didn't want to do ( ironic isn't it ) think of media such as ahs or even princess and the frog for modern examples of how this stereotype continues .

when portraying black witches who dabble in the stereotyped portrayal of 'voodoo' , or white characters with 'voodoo' superpowers it's important to be aware of the history and of the image you will be projecting with your character .

this is not to say you can't play black characters as witches or other magical species , but you can do so in a way that doesn't enforce damaging stereotypes and tropes . ( bonnie bennet from tvd is a witch the same as her many white counterparts , the most recent reboot of charmed features black female leads as powerful witches - although both of these are not perfect depictions )

tldr : this is no where as detailed as i wanted it to be as im saving my energy and i can't tell you what to do but voodoo is a closed religion that should not be used in roleplays as a source of magic or witchcraft . please respect it and it's roots . if you want to play a black character with magic , do so the same way you would their white counterparts but be aware of stereotypes ( particularly the magical n*gro stereotype )

as always im open to questions and comments on this . my knowledge is not absolute so i'm happy to amend things in this post . keep discussions civil and polite pretty please and remember that people of colour do not owe you education , especially at their own expense so be patient and listen .

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Fredi Washington

Fredericka Carolyn "Fredi" Washington (December 23, 1903 – June 28, 1994) was an American stage and film actress, civil rights activist, performer, and writer. Washington was of African American descent. She was one of the first Black Americans to gain recognition for film and stage work in the 1920s and 1930s. Washington was active in the Harlem Renaissance, her best known role being Peola in the 1934 film version of Imitation of Life, where she plays a young light-skinned Black woman who decides to pass as white. Her last film role was in One Mile from Heaven (1937), after which she left Hollywood and returned to New York to work in theatre and civil rights activism.

Fredi Washington was born in 1903 in Savannah, Georgia, to Robert T. Washington, a postal worker, and Harriet "Hattie" Walker Ward, a dancer. Both were of African American and European ancestry. Washington was the second of their five children. Her mother died when Fredi was 11 years old. As the oldest girl in her family, she helped raise her younger siblings, Isabel, Rosebud, and Robert, with the help of their grandmother. After their mother's death, Fredi and her sister Isabel were sent to the St. Elizabeth's Convent School for Colored Girls in Cornwells Heights, near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

While still in school in Philadelphia, Washington's family moved north to Harlem, New York. Washington graduated from Julia Richman High School in New York City.

Washington's entertainment career began in 1921 as a chorus girl in the Broadway musical Shuffle Along. She was hired by dancer Josephine Baker as a member of the "Happy Honeysuckles," a cabaret group. Baker became a friend and mentor to her. Washington's collaboration with Baker led to her being discovered by producer Lee Shubert. In 1926, she was recommended for a co-starring role on the Broadway stage with Paul Robeson in the play Black Boy. She quickly became a popular, featured dancer, and toured internationally with her dancing partner, Al Moiret.

Washington turned to acting in the late 1920s. Her first movie role was in Black and Tan (1929), in which she played a Cotton Club dancer who was dying. She acted in a small role in The Emperor Jones (1933) starring Robeson. In 1933, Washington married Lawrence Brown, the trombonist in Duke Ellington's jazz orchestra. That marriage ended in divorce. Washington also played Cab Calloway's love interest in the musical short Cab Calloway's Hi-De-Ho (1934).

Her best-known role was in the 1934 movie Imitation of Life. Washington played a young light-skinned Black woman who chose to pass as white to seek more opportunities in a society restricted by legal and social racial segregation. As Washington had visible European ancestry, the role was considered perfect for her, but it led to her being typecast by filmmakers. Moviegoers sometimes assumed from Washington's appearance—her blue-gray eyes, pale complexion, and light brown hair—that she might have passed in real life. In 1934, she said the role did not reflect her off-screen life, but "If I made Peola seem real enough to merit such statements, I consider such statements compliments and makes me feel I've done my job fairly well." She told reporters in 1949 that she identified as Black "...because I'm honest, firstly, and secondly, you don't have to be white to be good. I've spent most of my life trying to prove to those who think otherwise ... I am a Negro and I am proud of it."[7] Imitation of Life was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Picture, but it did not win. Years later, in 2007, Time magazine ranked it as among "The 25 Most Important Films on Race."

Washington's experiences in the film industry and theater led her to become a civil rights activist. In an effort to help other Black actors and actresses find more opportunities, in 1937 Washington co-founded the Negro Actors Guild of America, with Noble Sissle, W. C. Handy, Paul Robeson, and Ethel Waters. The organization's mission included speaking out against stereotyping and advocating for a wider range of roles. Washington served as the organization's first executive secretary. She was also heavily involved with the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, widely known as the NAACP. While working with the NAACP, Fredi fought for more representation and better treatment of Black actors in Hollywood because she was one of the few Black actors in Hollywood who had some influence with white studio executives. Aside from working with those organizations to fight for the rights of Black actors, Washington also advocated for the federal protection of Black Americans and was a lobbyist for the Dyer Anti-Lynching Bill, which the NAACP supported.

Despite receiving critical acclaim, she was unable to find much work in the Hollywood of the 1930s and 1940s; Black actresses were expected to have dark skin, and were usually typecast as maids. Directors were concerned about casting a light-skinned Black actress in a romantic role with a white leading man; the film production code prohibited suggestions of miscegenation. Hollywood directors did not offer her any romantic roles. As one modern critic explained, Fredi Washington was "...too beautiful and not dark enough to play maids, but rather too light to act in all-Black movies..."

Washington was a theater writer, and the entertainment editor for The People's Voice (1942–1948), a newspaper for African Americans founded by Adam Clayton Powell Jr., a Baptist minister and politician in New York City who was married to her sister Isabel Washington Powell. She was outspoken about racism faced by African Americans and worked closely with Walter White, then president of the NAACP, to address pressing issues facing Black people in America.

In 1952, Washington married a Stamford dentist, Hugh Anthony Bell, and moved to Greenwich, Connecticut.

Fredi Washington Bell died, aged 90, on June 28, 1994. She died from pneumonia following a series of strokes at St. Joseph Medical Center in Stamford, Connecticut.

[anonomouswriter-blr]

OuaT Peter Pan X OC: Cruel (part 1 maybe)

This is just for fun y'all. This isn't a fanfic page so PLEASE don't get attached to anything I post here, there will not be frequent updates (if any). I may drop this and never post again, it's all for kicks and giggles. Even still, let me know how I can write better. xoxo

Brief Synopsis - Loretta finds herself washed up on the shores of an unfamiliar island. The friend she arrived with is nowhere to be seen, but that doesn't mean she's alone on the island.

Story starts under cut.

It’s almost like static, the sounds Loretta heard as she roused from a state of numbness. With her head pounding and body aching and cold, she blinked her eyes, slowly adjusting to the harsh light against her face. Her blinking becomes more rapid as she attempts to remove pests from her eyes. It’s not dirt, but sand. A strong scent of sea veg fills her nostrils. She begins to recognize the familiar feeling of soft waves, washing over her, returning to the sea, then over her again, ending just below her cheeks. As the sand clears from her eyes, she becomes better adjusted to the light and can see her surroundings. She had washed up on the shore of some land. Is it an island? A mainland? Is there any civilization or is she stranded?

Stranded. Stranded would mean she’s alone, but she isn’t alone. As she sat up she remembered. “Noah Reed!?” she calls out into the white light reflecting off the beach, whipping her head around in each direction. He came with her on their wrecked ship, the boy she escaped that life of responsibility with, the one who showed her what magic and true freedom could be. The one who told her about the different worlds. But that storm had separated them. Is he even on the island? What island is she on? There are no strange fruits along the shoreline to indicate if she recognizes the island from stories or pictures. The vastness of the sea isn’t helping either. Loretta stumbles to her feet, taking in her surroundings. She kicks her legs in awkward discomfort as her now dirtied white skirt sticks to her calves. “Noah Reed! Noah Reed! Noa-,”

Loretta cuts herself off as she notices the unfamiliar boy in front of her. He stands unbothered on top of the rigged rocks, cocky, as if he owned the place. “You’re not Noah,” she states blankly.

“Do I look like Noah?” the boy asks.

“If you’re going to be like that I think I’d rather you leave me be,” he raises his eyebrows at that, then holds an entertained smile.

“What’s your name?”

“That’s none of your business. How about you tell me your name?”

“That’s none of your business,” Loretta frowns, eyebrows furrowing. She looks down, spots a stick a short ways away from her, then marches towards it. “What are you doing?”

“Drawing a line in the sand,” she says as she presses the tip of the stick deep into the wet sand and drags it in a long line, separating herself from the older boy. “You stay on that side and stop bothering me,”

With that order, she turns around sharply, wet hair whipping through the air, droplets smacking her in her own face, and marches in the opposite direction for the boy, looking about the sandy shore.

“What are you looking for?” Loretta makes a noise of alarm before scowling. The boy had appeared right before her eyes.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone?” The boy says nothing, waiting for an answer. She lets out a breath of frustration, but answers all the same. “My leather satchel. It can’t be far from here,”

She walks the shoreline, the boy continuing to follow, hoping from rock to rock. He really is fast. And annoying. Like a gnat that just won’t give.

“So how did you get here anyway?” he asks her. Buzz buzz buzzing like a gnat too. Can’t he just leave her alone?

“A shipwreck,” she states plainly.

“I don’t see any ship ‘round here,”

“Because it happened in the middle of the sea, that’s why. There was a bad storm. Now won’t you please leave me alone? I really need to find my bag,”

“You mean the one over there?” Across the shore there’s a tall rock, around its base is the arm band of her satchel, the bag itself fighting against the current of the shallow waves. Without a word she runs to it, leaving imprints of her feet in her wake, the sand gathering on the hem of her skirt. She pulls the satchel up and off the rock. Dropping to her knees, she opens it, digging through its contents. “What’s in this bag that’s so important anyway?”

“A spell book,” she says, lifting up a book with a finely detailed hard cover, eyes wide in excitement and awe. It may look worn from age and seawater, but the magic inside is just as crisp and powerful as if it were still new. “Let’s see if this is the island I seek,”She flips through the pages until seemingly finding a specific one, then places the book open on the sand, her stick from earlier lying crooked against the book's binding. The boy looks quizzically as he watches her over her shoulder. Again her arm plunges into the bag and she pulls out another item, this one a spinning wooden top. Whilst reading the open pages, she mumbles to herself, holding the top over the book. She stares down the item as if waiting for something to happen, but nothing does. “Curses! It isn’t working. I must be on the wrong island, if this even is one,”

“And what island might you be looking for?”

“A place with magic. To keep us young forever and conjure things one can only hope for in my land,” Loretta raises to her feet, looking round and defeated, not knowing what to do. “I don’t even know if he’s in this place with me. Gosh, I wish I could just have a map to find him!” almost in an instant, a drawn out parchment appears in the palm of her empty hand. She looks at it with wide eyes, taking it in both hands and feeling the paper to test its existence. On the piece is a mark of where she is, a large X, and a dotted trail connecting the two. “A map, exactly how I wished it. Wait…” she turns to the boy, “How did you appear in front of me so suddenly before,”

He simply shrugs. “Magic,” Loretta approaches him, looking him in the face.

“Tell me, what island is this?” he smiles at her, a mischievous smile.

“Why, this is Neverland, of course,” Loretta’s face widens with a grin, and she cheers, jumping in the air.

“We did it! We found it! Why didn’t you say something earlier! You enjoyed watching me act a fool, didn’t you?” her whole demeanor had changed. Before she held a posture of irritation towards the boy, but how she shared a fondness towards him. “Come, I still have to find Noah Reed,”

“You want me to come with you? Weren’t you just telling me to bug off before?”

“What, that? Oh, that wasn’t serious. Besides, you seem to know this island better than me. I could use your help. Now are you coming or not?” she flippantly asks, then runs towards the forests.

posted 14.Wed.Mar.2024

[orii-blogs-stuff]

So... How does the Temple work in Demiverse?

using this blog to plan for my Demiverse meets cannon fic

Before I go any futher, special thanks to @aubdrewanchel for helping me with the Temple layout!

Below is the blueprints of the Temple in the Demiverse:

Ground Floor:

1st floor: (White Robed Rooms)

2nd Floor: (Blue Robed Rooms)

3rd Floor: (Grey Robed Rooms)

Temple Hierarchy:

Head Priest (Demigod)

High Priest (Demigod)

White Robed (Demigods)

Blue Robed (Nobles/people with Mana)

Grey Robed (Commoners/people without Mana)

What does the Temple do?

The Temple does many things such as:

The Head and High Priests keep the Duchy Foundation underneath the Temple safe, not that they'll be thanked for that seeing the the Aubs and their heirs forgot their is a route to the Foundation via the Temple-

Dedication Ritual to fill all the Duchy's chalices

Make sure every Geibedom recives their fair share of Chalices

Collects taxes and transfers those taxes to the Aub's castle

Hunt down extremely violent feybeast throughout the Duchy to keep the commoners safe

Philanthropic work such as running hospitals and schools

Hold up! You said the Temple hunts down Feybeasts? How do they do that?

The Temple funds it, White Robed are allowed to become 'Adventurers', in groups of three - five, these Adventurers are sent out to various Geibedoms where they patrol the countryside to make sure dangerous feybeast stay out of cities/towns/villages (they don't kill feybeast willy-nilly, overhunting could lead to huge ecological impacts).

Adventurers are important, not only do they provide security to the countryside due to a certain recent civil war - many Knights Orders have decreased in size so it's difficult for the Nobles to keep order in the Duchy - but they also help the Demigods because to release mana in a safe and healthy way Demigods need to participate in their parents domains, making this a good outlet for - e.g, children of Leidenschaft.

How is the Temple funding all of this?!

The Temple gets to keep 20% of the taxes they collect, rest goes to the Aub, but 20% is still a huge amount of money. They also get plenty of donations as well.

Why do the Grey Robed have a school within their floor?

Can't have stupid workers can we know? If the Grey Robed cant read then how could they possibly understand what their superiors would want? If their Blue/White Robed wasn't present to give them orders, were they supposed to just sit around and no nothing?!

So ya, they get an education, learning how to read and write and do basic maths, some even learn poetry or music to entertain the White/Blue Robed or even act as teachers if they're skilled enough.

EDIT

One thing I forgot to add is that the Cathedral contains All the Gods, not just the supreme couple and the Eternal Five, I'm talking them, their subordinates, their Subordinates' subordinates, Chaosciper, Mestionora and Erwaermen.

Imagine your a little Commoner/Noble, going to be baptised, you're shit nervous and you walk into this big hall and there's these large ivory white statues as tall as 12 feet and 299 of them, all staring down at you as you enter the temple for the first time....

[thisisyourprincipalspeaking]

Not people in here about to have me defend this pale man. 😅

To the anon who mentioned his white privilege. One must assume Chris got Captain America due to his race, or that he became a celeb through privilege. Yes as a white man he’s afforded privilege. I do acknowledge that.

But one must also acknowledge that Chris was a basic ……still is a basic white man from Massachusetts. He graduated high school early and went to NYC and got a damn job to try to put himself out there. He sent in letters like millions to talent agencies to try to be seen. But his ass was working in an office and saw the reality of the entertainment industry. He’s struggled to get roles and put in the time and auditioned for things. He’s now had a fair share of success and that’s led to more opportunities. Chris is also human and has his own internal problems and insecurities which I believe have hindered him professionally a bit. I don’t know the man like that, but to boldly state that he’s some rich privilege white male as though that’s the end all be all for his success is crazy to me.

Dude knew what he wanted and went after it, THAT is how he started. We are not going to sit here and try to lump all of his accomplishments and work ethic to…..well he’s white so it’s very easy for him. Has he had it easier than others in other ways simply due to his race, absolutely.

Im African American and I be damned if I sit my ass online mad at white people for being white instead of doing something productive with my life.

I deal with racism, sexism, etc but I be damned if I allow any of that to stop me from accomplishing anything. Do you think Octavia or Viola would be where they are with your mindset anon?

White people open doors for their individual needs, we open doors for each other.

Chris made sure Octavia didn’t have to be in a scene that had her petrified of being hit. He used his privilege to get her out of a scary situation. Had she complained on her own she may have been fired, idk. But if that’s not using your privilege for good then what is?

I think you miss the point of people stating just because things look like they were a “choice”, doesn’t mean that’s the end all be all, feel me?

If one believes he truly is everything implied based on how his current circumstances appear, then why waste time arguing over this white man and his privileged ass?

We have to stop this “blame the white man for all of our problems” mentality. Yes they did a lot of shit to us and its left and continues to leave scars, it’s led to systemic racism, colorism, police brutality, etc but we still made these beautiful lives, we define the culture, we are IT!

I also advise you to educate yourself on white privilege. Please google the white panther party. You have to understand that in order for us to have moved to better and get the civil right movement moving forward, we had allies in places that we weren’t allowed to be and because of these allies they assisted is making things better for us. We have rights, we have more opportunities than our ancestors and we didn’t get here alone.

My worth and value is not dependent on what evil racist choose to do. When they go low, we go high, now mind you I’ll gladly step down a few pegs to put people in their place and then rise back up to my level. 💅🏾

i think i love you, anon

[iloveethnicities]

Sir Sidney Poitier (1927–2022) was a trailblazing actor, director, and activist whose career broke racial barriers and set new standards for Black representation in Hollywood. Born on February 20, 1927, in Miami, Florida, to Bahamian parents of humble means, Poitier spent much of his early life in the Bahamas. His family were tomato farmers, and his early years were spent on Cat Island before moving to Nassau. A premature birth during a business trip to Miami gave Poitier U.S. citizenship.

As a teenager, Poitier moved to the United States to pursue greater opportunities. Struggling with poverty and racial discrimination, he enlisted in the U.S. Army during World War II, later working various menial jobs. His career in acting began serendipitously when he auditioned for the American Negro Theater in New York City. Although his initial audition was unsuccessful due to his thick Bahamian accent, Poitier dedicated himself to improving his craft and mastering American English, eventually earning a spot with the theater.

Sidney Poitier became the first Black actor to achieve true leading-man status in Hollywood, paving the way for generations of Black actors. His breakout role came in 1950 with No Way Out, where he portrayed a doctor in a racially charged drama. This performance set the tone for Poitier's career, often characterized by roles that challenged racial stereotypes and promoted dignity, intelligence, and integrity.

1. The Defiant Ones (1958): Poitier earned his first Academy Award nomination for Best Actor, becoming the first Black male actor to achieve this milestone.

2. Lilies of the Field (1963): Poitier won the Academy Award for Best Actor, becoming the first Black man to receive this honor. In the film, he played an itinerant worker who helps a group of nuns build a chapel, showcasing his ability to bring warmth and humanity to his roles.

3. Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967): This film addressed interracial marriage at a time when the topic was still controversial in America. Poitier’s portrayal of a charismatic, accomplished Black doctor in love with a white woman was groundbreaking.

4. In the Heat of the Night (1967): Poitier starred as Virgil Tibbs, a Black detective navigating racism in the Deep South. His famous line, "They call me Mister Tibbs," became a cultural landmark.

Throughout his career, Poitier chose roles that highlighted social issues and avoided perpetuating negative stereotypes, making him a symbol of progress in Hollywood.

Poitier also made significant contributions as a director. In the 1970s and 1980s, he directed several films, often comedies, including Uptown Saturday Night (1974) and Stir Crazy (1980), starring Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder. His work behind the camera demonstrated his versatility and further solidified his influence in the industry.

Beyond acting, Poitier was an advocate for civil rights and racial equality. He was a close associate of Martin Luther King Jr. and used his platform to speak out against injustice. In 2009, President Barack Obama awarded him the Presidential Medal of Freedom, recognizing his lifelong contributions to culture and humanity.

Poitier’s achievements inspired countless Black artists and audiences. His work expanded the scope of possibility for Black actors in Hollywood, dismantling barriers and redefining representation.

Poitier was married twice, first to Juanita Hardy and later to Joanna Shimkus, with whom he shared six daughters. He lived a life characterized by grace and humility, balancing his professional triumphs with a devotion to his family. Poitier passed away on January 6, 2022, at the age of 94.

Sir Sidney Poitier remains a towering figure in cinema and a symbol of perseverance and dignity. As a Bahamian-American icon, he bridged cultural divides and left an indelible mark on the world of entertainment and beyond.