#persian royal family

[sylvanitchi]

forest fairy

[shilohsylvanian]

Previous Japan only exclusives now listed on the UK site.Fingers crossed for US release at least next year or something lol So excited for older brothers!

[prying-pandora666]

Avatar Name Meanings!

Just for fun! Let’s take a look at the most cited meanings for ATLA names.

Aang - When his name is shown in written form, it is composed of the Chinese characters 安 (ān) meaning "peace, quiet" and 昂 (áng)meaning "raise, lift". A fitting name for an airbender who will save the world!

Katara - Taken from the Arabic word قطرة (qatra) meaning "raindrop, droplet". A gentle and poetic name for waterbender who is starting out.

Sokka - Derived from the Japanese phrase “sou ka”, meaning "I understand" or "Is that so?". A reference to both his skeptical and analytical nature, as well as his comic relief.

Toph - Toph was written as 北方拓芙, giving her name the meaning "expanding lotus". The name itself is not a genuine Chinese name, and may have been intended as a pun on the English word "tough". When combined with her last name Beifong, you get “lotus flower expanding northward”, a reference to Toph opening up and making friends, but also because she is from the Southern city of Gaoling and literally travels north with the Gaang.

Zuko - Fictional name written with different meanings in the show. His wanted poster uses 祖 (zǔ) from Chinese meaning "ancestor, forefather" combined with 寇 (kòu) meaning "bandit, robber". Likely meant to portray Zuko as a traitor to his family and people. However, it’s also written as 蘇 (sū) meaning "to regain consciousness" combined with 科 (kē) meaning "sort, class", which is probably the true meaning to his name referring to how Zuko will redeem the Fire Nation and royal family by redeeming himself.

Azula - Fictional name derived from Portuguese, Galician, and Spanish azul meaning "blue" (of Persian origin). A reference to her blue flames.

Want me to cover other ATLA names? Just ask!

(Psst want more ATLA? Check this out!)

[octuscle]

A Night at the Opera

Ernest and Jasper were both no friends of the big appearance. Their parents had taught them from an early age to always appear far less than they were. The two had come to the opera by subway. That Ernest's velvet loafers cost more than a month's salary of most people around them, probably no one suspected here. The red carpet was laid out for the premiere in front of the Royal Opera. As Ernst and Jasper approached, a rapidly fading flurry of flashbulbs began. The two looked like stars. Flawless. Beautiful. Cultivated. But no one had a clue who they were. So the photographers pounced on the C-list couple, who were getting out of a presumably leased Bentley right behind them. Ernest raised an eyebrow, barely noticeable. Jasper smiled knowingly. The two politely accepted the program and went to Jasper's family box. They had made a generous donation over 200 years ago that enabled the laying of the building's foundation stone. And together with Ernest's grandmother, Jasper's father now ruled over the opera's patrons' association. It was not a problem if they were not recognized here.

During the first intermission, the two quickly agreed that it would be a wasted evening if they were to watch the opera to the end. The singers were mediocre, and the production tried to paper over logical gaps with crude, obscene provocation. Yes, Siegfried was certainly no easy opera. But they actually loved Wagner. But they wouldn't survive another three hours like that. Ending the evening with a glass of wine in front of the fireplace seemed considerably more appealing. They exchanged a few pleasantries with acquaintances of their parents, who were also waiting at the coat rack, and walked through the dusk towards the subway. And they were happy with their decision.

The subway wasn't particularly crowded: Jasper had bought a copy of the Times from a newspaper seller. Even though the premiere was still going on, there was already a scathing review of it in the arts section. Of course the critic was unfair and biased. But his style was delicious. Ernest hummed a bit of the overture's melody when a young man, who was the complete opposite of the two, stumbled over Ernest's legs on his way out the door. The boy was muscular, tattooed, and dressed to show off as much of the muscles and tattoos as possible. Definitely not their class. He swore and showed Ernest the middle finger. Ernest just smiled superiorly. And got the slime from the yob directly in the face. “Do you think you're better than me? Maybe. But not for much longer.” The yob laughed and jumped through the already closing doors onto the platform. Ernest wiped the slime from his cheek. Not all of it… A little bit had run into his mouth.

They got off at the next stop. Ernest's stomach growled. He asked if they could quickly get something from the supermarket on the way home. Jasper said that the fridge at home was well stocked, but he was happy to do it for me. Cumberland Food & Wine was really on the way and he could possibly get a bottle of red wine. While Jasper was scouring the shelves without finding anything he liked, Ernest filled his shopping basket with protein bars, chicken breasts, rice and eggs. When the two met at the checkout, Jasper looked at his husband questioningly. “I just felt like it,” answered Ernest. “Honey, anything you want!” answered Jasper.

Once they arrived home, Ernest immediately disappeared into the kitchen of their impressive apartment on Bryanston Square. By then, he had already eaten three protein bars. Jasper rolled his eyes and retreated to the library. He took a small glass of port and continued reading about the history of the Persian language. At least this way he would be able to end the evening with a little wit. He lost track of time and only woke up when he heard noises coming from the living room. Ernest had taken off his jacket and shirt and was eating a mountain of chicken breasts with egg rice at the coffee table, still wearing his trousers and undershirt. The TV was on. “What are you watching?” Jasper asked. With his mouth full, Ernest replied that it was the new season of “Made in Chelsea”. “You know, the stuff with Reza in it.” Jasper didn't know Reza. ‘The Reza from the gym. Reza Amiri-Garroussi!’ Ernest wiped his hands on his undershirt, pulled out his cell phone, opened Instagram and showed Jasper pictures of a young man. Jasper didn't even know Ernest had an Instagram account. ”Hot guy, honey! Do you know each other?” “Best bros!” Ernest smiled. Tonight had obviously not had a good influence on him. Whatever. Jasper was tired. He kissed his husband on the forehead and wished him good night.

The night had been wild. Ernest had come to bed at some point and had rammed his boner into Jasper's ass without much warning. This wasn't loving sex, it was fucking without any foreplay. Hot, animalistic. Uncharacteristic. But damn, once Ernest had filled his ass until the cum was dripping out of it, Jasper didn't care about any of that. He had never been fucked like that before. No wonder the rest of the night was full of wild dreams. When he woke up, Ernest was no longer in bed. The satin sheets needed urgent washing, with dried cum stains everywhere. Jasper went to the kitchen. Ernest had obviously already had breakfast; the pan for the omelette was in the sink, along with the dishes from dinner, and on the work surface was a thin layer of protein powder dust. Jasper felt somehow strange in the apartment. Something was weird. Did they always have such a monstrously large TV? And was that their furniture? It all looked so much like something from a furniture store. And not like design classics and antiques… “Bros, that's it for this morning! Good pump! Have a sick day!” The sound of the dumbbells hitting the floor showed that Ernie had finished his morning pump. According to the floor plan, their home gym was actually a children's room. What the hell would they need that for? Now it was the place where Ernie shot the videos for his YouTube channel.

Jasper was standing in the doorway. Ernie turned off the cameras and lights. Sweat glistened on his naked torso. Jasper's cock went up. Ernie turned around, saw the semi-erect cock and just grinned, “You dirty piece of shit! You know damn well we're out of time. Auditions are in an hour. And you should shower.” “Look who's talking!” Jasper replied. Ernie smelled his armpit. “That's the way it is, it's my trademark!” He put on a basketball jersey lying on the floor, grabbed Jasper's cock in passing and gave his friend a fleeting French kiss. Jasper knew that Ernie had rights. They had to leave in 20 minutes at the latest. Just enough time to jump in the shower and do a few pull-ups to pump up his muscles. He looked at himself in the mirror. Yes, he looked awesome!

“Love Island” could be Jaz's big breakthrough. At the audition, he was simply eye-catching as the incarnate bad boy. His snotty way of speaking and his arrogant, misogynistic macho appearance had convinced the producers that he could make it big in the trash reality soap. Sure, it sucked that his best buddy Ernie hadn't been taken on either. But Ernie was just already too popular. His fitness channel had tens of thousands of followers. And his appearance in the next season of “I'm a celebrity, get me out of here” was a done deal. If things went well for Jaz, he would follow in Ernie's footsteps next year.

Many bores from the educated middle class would probably look down on Ernie and Jaz with disgust and contempt. But hey, the two of them made good money, went to all the hot parties, and last weekend Bentley had even provided them with a shiny gold car for an Insta-story. The car had been pure porn. Surely everyone who stared at them with open eyes thought they were pop stars or something. It was only a matter of time before they became famous. They were young, sexy and camera-hungry. The future was wide open for guys like them.

[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.

[z3nitsusgf]

paper bag

roman roy | reader

tw: fem!reader, toxic relations, manipulation, l*gan roy, romann is sick in the head, Roman says a slur (unsurprising), dog motif, teasing, dirty talk, ooc roman bc he's scared of pussy irl, this shit long af I’m sorry, backwards storytelling bc I’m inconsistent

The room is sticky. Sweltering in a post-august heat. The box fan churns and spits out whatever puffs of air it can muster, but the both of you still sweat on the linens of the motel bed.

The walls are stained from years of misuse and neglect, tinged a dirty yellow. You can’t tell if it’s oil or something more debauched that clings to the plaster, probably the latter.

It’s late into the night, too late for anything to be open and too early for it to be acceptable to up and leave. So the two of you are rooted here, stuck till daybreak.

The sounds of people arguing, a car horn blaring, and the buzz of fluorescent whir through your head. There’s a small box TV, it fizzles and pops every time you try to change the channel. Gurgling in a pre-2000s war cry. You could almost laugh at the circumstances.

You wonder how the fuck you’ve managed to snag New York’s brattiest billionaire, even more at how you’ve convinced him to fuck you in a shitty motel just outside of Hell’s Kitchen. Or to even fuck you at all, you only know rumors of his… strange bedroom endeavors.

You stifle an un-humored chuckle, Roman is lying like a royal Persian cat across the bed, shirt long gone and covered only in his boxers. A brand you've never heard of laces his hips, something expensive and out of reach. Just like most of him.

“What?” He asks, head resting on a closed fist. He draws shapes on your leg, neat nails dragging along the soft skin. He likes the smell of your lotion, something girlish and fresh like linen. Almost like something Shiv would wear, or a nanny from his memory. All he knows is that he likes it.

“Nothin’, just thinking.”

He likes your accent. It reveals your upbringing, obviously not the stupidly refined wealth that Roman inhabits but something humbler. It’s a little rough around the edges but not crass. Your words are straightforward and clear, unlike his family's. The bubbling words they offer to air up a conversation, you cut straight through that.

“Thinking about what?”

You give a smile, taking a long drag of your American Spirit and tipping your head back to blow it up to the stained ceiling. The smoke curls and swirls around before dissipating into nothing. He's not used to the smell, it gives the air a hint of pine-tinged outdoorsy aroma. Warm, comforting, familiar, and terrible all at once. Like something Logan would smell like when he came home, on the rare occurrence Roman was around him long enough to get a whiff.

“How I just bagged the Roman Roy, and how it’s gonna look in the papers.”

You joke, obviously. You’d never tell your endeavors to the pressing public or the sneaky little journalists that gripe for your small breadcrumbs about the family. Even if it is technically your job.

Roman hums, “Waystar son indulges in debauched acts with local journalist slut.”

He makes a gesture with his hands, eyes lighting up and going wide. A dopey grin rested on the plane of his cheeks, a row of sparkling whites glimmering under the citrusy glow of the lamp.

“Fuck you.”

You kick him haphazardly in the chest, his laugh rings around the room like a bell. Roman grabs your ankle, curling his fingers around the bone and yanking you down towards him. He’s uncaring of how you slip down the headrest, watching how you squeak and mumble small profanities.

“Prick could’ve dropped the ashes on me.” You mumble, not serious in the slightest.

“What would your father say?”

You snip, reaching down and dragging a hand through his hair, tussling the already licked-up sweaty strands. He practically melts into your touch, eyes closing and lips parting at the contact. He memorizes how your nails feel on his scalp, visualizing the soft pink of your polish running through the strands.

It feels good to have you touch him so effortlessly. As if he was nice to hold and caress, something soft to be sentimental with. Not a bad dog locked in a kennel for once but allowed to curl up on the bed.

But that's exactly what he is, isn't he? He is the dog that sleeps on the floor at the edge of the bed. Curled in on himself, happy to just be close. Nosing at the sheets, contempt with the presence of its owner. Even if he's cold, shivering from the floorboards - you just being there is enough to keep him warm. The few pats on the head allow him to sleep through the night. He is the dog that never leaves your side, sitting off to the right of you and waiting.

He lets out a bitter giggle, a small grimace twitching his lips. It hides the shimmer of despair that is pooled in his head.

“He’d probably be glad I got some pussy for once. Maybe he’ll stop calling me a fag.”

He laughs when he says it, even though a part of you knows he’s dead serious. You've come to learn he always is when it comes to his father.

The sadness cuts through the raunchiness of his words and you fight off the frown that wants to stitch itself across your face. A part of you wants to reach out and mend together the brokenness, another wants to pull out your journal and backlog it for later. A rotten, benign part of you wants to take this man apart and study it to smithereens.

Roman doesn’t say much, surprisingly. He’s reserved in his intimacy, holding back all the love and care that he wants to pour out. He's been starving for decades, yearning for a love that won't come. He's resigned to the fact he is broken. Besides, he’s not here to cuddle up to you for anything more than to get you to not publish your story on the Roy’s. You're both fighting for the same thing, just on different sides.

You respond the only way you knew how, “Fuck, that’s really fucking depressing.”

Roman admires your brutal style, honesty is a rarity that he treasures when it comes. It's why he noticed you in the first place, your articles about the wealthy family in the tabloids caught his eye. Especially the ones about him -it sounds different when you say it, not like you're vying for an undercut but like you're genuine.

He laughs.

You both laugh. Tipping your heads back and howling with laughter. He's got tears in his eyes, and you can't breathe.

///

“Not really your cup of tea, huh?”

You teased, flinging off your shoes and laying on the questionable sheets.

He gives you a snarky grimace and raises a brow, “Careful, you might get scabies or a fucking STD just from breathing in the air.”

It’s not the sort of place you’d expect to see Roman Roy occupy. You can hardly even wrap your head around the fact he’s here now. You imagine the Roy in lavishness, draped in silken white and cashmere. Sipping champagne from a crystal glass brought by room service. Watching the glittering of New York from a floor-to-ceiling window on the billionth floor of a hotel that costs your entire paycheck for just one night.

No, you can’t even pretend that Roman doesn’t look completely out of place here. With his no-tie, popped collar, Tom Ford wannabe pretentious ass. He’s comically out of place. It makes you want to giggle to hell at the way he looks so uncomfortable.

A pretty little rich boy who’s never had to worry about being in anything other than a 5-star. Who now stands in a seedy motel that looks more like a crack house than the Arlo in Midtown. And in place of the champagne, he chugs your shitty beer and water bottle vodka. Cracking open a six-pack of michelob’s and cringing at the taste. It’s painfully cheap, but alcohol is alcohol.

“Come on, don’t act so high and mighty. Relax.”

You pat the empty space next to you, scooting over so he can tentatively sit. You have your thick black journal resting beside you, inside containing all the juicy details and bits about the Roys that would burn down empires and topple over conglomerates.

You’ve hidden most of it well, you’ve had to, or else you get a hit put out on you from the man himself, Logan Roy. Using different names when publishing your work, making interviews anonymous - hell, you feel like Batman with the way you work in the shadows.

Roman inches onto the mattress, eyeing the notebook at your side. He knows, vaguely, what it contains. The secrets, the stories, untamed facts about the company and his family. Usually, he wouldn't give a rat's ass about what a snoopy little journalist had to say about him and his family.

He’ll admit your stuff is good, great even but it's all fluff, a buffer that fills up the sides of newspapers so they have more meat to them. And most of the time it's always the same thing; how horrible his father is, the treatment of Waystar employees, how disconnected the children of the billionaire were. But you- you dug deeper than that.

He never had a reason to look into you until now.

Your stories were revelations for the public. The lies, the coverups, the shady business that their media team works day and night to conceal. You spill it all. And now that you're gaining more traction, more popularity, they're losing revenue quickly. Business deals are turning to dust, stocks are dropping, and employees are quitting on the spot. It's making Waystar crumble from the inside out. And Logan refuses to lose from a puny little journalist, let alone a woman.

When Gerri and Karolina uncovered who was behind the articles, they wilted. If they had told Logan who you were - what you were - he would've squashed you like a bug. Completely ruined your life till you had nothing.

So they took a different approach, a softer more merciful route. They sent Roman after you, and like the loyal dog he is, he went. Mingling with over-eager, latte-sipping, pretentious journalists to get your contact info.

It wasn't as easy as he thought, more work than he wanted to put in. But regardless, he eventually a friend of a friend of a friend gave you up. Not soon after you got a very informal email from the COO, asking to meet up for an "interview" on the pretense of discussing your stories. Or your "allegations" as he liked to call it.

To say you were surprised was an understatement, you nearly passed out in disbelief. It started with meeting him on neutral ground, a coffee shop. Somewhere public and clean, nothing seedy or easily misconstrued.

And when Roman strutted into the small shop, you were very aware of how real this was all becoming. The starkness of his wealth is evident in comparison to the rest of the shop.

"Ah, if it isn't the little paper-pusher I've heard so much about."

Those were his first words to you.

“Mr. Roy, a pleasure to meet you.”

He sat in front of you, pulling off his jacket and haphazardly throwing it over the back of the chair. You're 100% sure it costs more than your yearly salary. At your words, he gives an obnoxious giggle.

“Please, don’t call me that. Makes me think we’re in some sick porno.”

You raise a brow at his crassness, “Ok.. pleasure to meet you, Roman.”

He stifles another giggle but reaches a hand across the table, shaking yours.

Once he’s pulled back he claps his hands together, “Alright, what do you get from this shithole. And don’t tell me you’re one of those hipster-loving morons who gets like matcha or some shit.”

Your eyes widen at how loud he’s being, uncaring that staff or other customers might hear his openness. You know what kind of person he is, you’re just not used to the oozing brattiness in person.

You can only gawk, “Well, um, usually I get a macchiato or just a regular cup of coffee.”

He nods, “Hmm, I see. Ok. I’ll get whatever you get. Throw in a Danish too, I’ll pay.”

You blink vigorously, “Oh no, it’s alright Mr. Roy-”

“Roman.” He corrects, giving a cheeky grin.

“And don’t worry about it, you’re not gonna break the bank with some cheap-ass coffee.”

You wonder if this was a good idea at all, but you quickly come back to reality. You’re here for business, you can’t treat this like a nightmare date from hell. Even if that’s what it feels like. So you do as he says, ordering the coffees and two danishes, even getting an extra muffin to-go.

Time quickly flew by, as much as you hated to admit it. You managed to tug the man back into the conversation you came for - Waystar. Though Roman was more elusive than anything.

Tapping on the table, leaning his chair back, and distracting you with other topics that most certainly were not work-appropriate. Like if you were just making all this fuss because you just wanted to get finger-blasted by the COO. That one made you flush and snap at him like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

But he was so charismatic, in his own twisted way. Like a car crash, you couldn’t look away from, the smoldering flames and heated looks were more than you thought he was capable of.

After hours of talking he drew out your more playful side, the snarky little wit you don’t usually use with the people you’re working with. It was inevitable. And soon, it was late into the evening. With the coffee shop getting ready to close for the night.

“Looks like it’s time to wrap it up for the day.”

You moved to stand, dusting off crumbs from your lap. And Roman is quick to jump up, “Aw, you sure? I mean it’s not that late, wanna maybe head out somewhere?”

He’s vague with his words, you give him a smirk.

“Are you trying to get me alone with you, Roman?”

He chuckles and puts on his jacket, “Of course, I mean, how else am I gonna murder you?”

You both laugh, “Murder me? Sweet little me? What for?”

The two of you walk onto the sidewalk, the crisp night air breezing through your hair.

“We both know you’re not sweet.”

You smile, tucking a lip between your teeth. He’s magnetic, in a venomous and dark way. You know it’s wrong to do this, to get close like this. But sometimes you have to do things in order to get what you want.

“I know somewhere we can go.”

///

That’s how you got here, at least how you remember it. It’s all blurred from the copious amount of alcohol you’ve drank.

Now you have a very not sober Roman Roy on top of you.

He’s flushed, there’s pink smattering across his heated cheeks and he’s got blown pupils the size of the moon. He leers over you, his hand cupping your throat. He’s close, too close.

You can feel the curve of his lip on your cupid's bow, the prickle of his stubble. He smells like Costa Azzurra, citrusy and woodsy. It clouds your drunken brain, making you want to pant and sink your teeth into his neck.

Roman is mumbling, you can’t quite make it out but you feel the warmth of his breath across your cheek. It feels dizzying, like a waking dream.

“I’m gonna kill you. Not gonna let you leave, you’re stuck with me.”

He huffs against the warm apple swell of your cheek. You giggle at that; he feels the warmth of your laugh. The scent of lime and lone star on your breath. There’s a certain giddiness that flutters in your tummy at the words, a sick satisfaction.

One that a dark part of you craves. A feral depravity lies in between your teeth. One that aches to chew on his marrow and swallow him whole. When they trust you to completion, it makes you want to crush them completely.

“Oh yeah?”

You’re hazy. Starry-eyed with droopy lids, face hot from the alcohol and closeness. There are bruises in the shape of his teeth. Ringed purple marks that fade into shimmery blue and greens. Speckled aches across your thighs and neck - all from him. Like rabid animals fighting the very nature of their beings, you claw and tear at one another like beasts deprived.

He buries his face in your chest, trying to hide himself within it - claw his way in and sit inside your heart. Plunging his hands into your back and holding you to him like you were the only ones on earth. He kisses your skin, brushing his lips along your collarbone, down to the center. Straight in your solar plexus, like he could see through it.

As if he could see that beating organ as if he could reach in and take it.

“Yeah. Wanna keep you, like a pet or a girlfriend. What’s the difference?”

You squirm at his hot breath on your neck, the humid air making you needy. You grab his face in your hands, lifting his face up to you and pressing your mouths together in a sloppy kiss. He groans, he doesn’t even wait before he slips his tongue in. Sliding across your lips and flicking on the roof of your mouth. You make a choked sound, the feeling of his tongue invading your mouth.

You can feel the hard bulge of his cock pressing against your stomach, it makes you ache with need.

“Roman,” you pant, “I wanna fuck you.”

He hums, “Wanna fuck you too, wanna fuck your pussy.”

You moan, you want to tear him apart at the seams and eat him whole. Crack that soft apricot heart and bite down into his tissue. You bet he tastes just like it too, sweet and sugary like jam. You want to rip him to shreds, consume each sliver, and savor him like he’s raw slices of strawberries on your plate.

///

He spreads your thighs, gripping your ass in rough hands, practically moaning at the sight of your fucked out pussy. There are silvery webs of slickness that glisten along your cunt. You’re panting into the sheets, fisting them as you shiver from the cold AC.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so wet.”

His thumbs graze along your swollen lips, and you twitch - whining like a puppy that wants a kiss. Hips jerking into the mattress when he grips the fat of your ass and swipes your folds.

“Look at you, so fucked out. And you still want more?”

You nod, humming breathy whimpers each time he gets close to your clit. You let out a sharp yelp when he slaps a hand across your ass, hands flailing and thighs instinctively trying to shut.

He keeps you spread, knee coming up to prevent you from ruining his fun.

“Gotta say it, babe. Can’t read your mind.”

You’re trembling, lips swollen and drooling as you try to push out the words.

“Yes, I want more.” You mumble, face buried halfway into the sheets.

He’s mean with it, pressing the pad of his thumb onto your pulsing clit. Rubbing till he hears the sloppy sound and you’re jerking away with a scampery yip.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.”

You could cry, wet tears pooling on your lash line. Your cunt throbs, empty and flushed and fucking aching.

“Please, please I want more. Want your cock-“

He’s groaning, yanking you back till your ass is in the air. Spine arching and you feel the brush of his cock on your folds.

“Yeah? Want my cock?” You can hear the smile in his voice, hips shaking in his hold.

His tip is kissing along your entrance, and he watches with hearts in his eyes at the way you coat him in slick. Rutting the length between your folds, dipping in to watch you clench on nothing. Wetness clinging to your inner thighs and painting your pussy a shimmery diamond-esque.

“Mmhm, want it. Want you to fuck me, want it so bad.” You moan, half brain-dead with how stupid you sound.

He giggles, high a girlishy. Slipping in fast and quick, hips jerking till he’s flushed with your ass. His pace is like a rabbit, practically humping you into the mattress. You yelp at the feeling, cock splitting you in two.

“Roman-!”

“What was that?”

You can hear the smile in his voice. It makes you whine, gripping the edge of the bed as he slams harder.

“I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you getting fucking pounded.”

You let out a moan when he hits deep. Slotting all the way, flushed against your ass. His tip is kissing something untouched inside you, sticky head brushing along the cushiony pucker of your cervix.

“Fuck you-“

You choke on your words when he bucks his hips. Slamming impossibly farther.

“Huh? Speak up, baby. Can’t hear you, your wet pussy is too loud.”

You bury your face into your arm. Biting at your lip to keep the drool from spilling over your mouth.

“How’s it feel? Feelin’ good? My little paper-pusher like how I fuck her?”

He makes you insane.

You fist at the sheets, nails digging into the soft gray linen. He’s pushing you into a pretty arch, thumbs keeping your ass spread so he can watch himself fuck your cunt.

“God, your pussy is insane.” His hips are smacking against the backs of your thighs. You’re on the verge of tears from how good it feels, you can feel the veins of his cock pulsing in you. Mouth parted and spilling sticky moans.

“Fuck, how are you so wet?” He murmurs, shivering at the feeling of your tight walls gripping along his length. At this point, his thrusts are sloppy and uneven, but the tip of his cock is still able to hit that special spot deep inside of you.

“Oh fuck, Roman, m’gonna cum-”

You absolutely lose your mind when he rolls his hips against you, scratching the sheets.

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock?”

You nod, waiting for the pit in your tummy to explode. But it doesn’t come, Roman pulling out in one even jerk.

You cry out, “What the fuck?”

“If you wanna cum you gotta promise not to publish that little article of yours, babe”

You’re hazy and desperate, in the back of your mind you know what he’s doing. And it clips your chest. But the pulsing of your cunt overrides all sanity. And you’re too fucked out to even care at this point, you just want to cum.

“What’ll be, huh? Wanna get pounded till you gush over my cock, or do you want to post a dumb story about me?”

You whimper, you’re dangling on your own leash of longing. He’s pressed against your back whispering all the fucked up things he promises to do to you if you just give in. Just let go, he murmurs.

Temptation licking the back of your heels like hellfire. It doesn’t help that he’s pawing at your tits, squeezing your tender flesh like clay. Cock slipping and sliding against your sodden cunt, slick with want and need. Dripping a honey-thick desire so brutal you’d think he was a demon sent from the inferno.

“Ok! Ok, won’t post it, just fuck me! Please, Rome.”

He groans, a hearty whiny thing that makes you clench around nothing.

“Good girl, good girl.”

It’s immediate, the way he slams back in and drives home. Your sticky skin slapping against his, thighs shaking with burning effort, stretched cunt a dripping mess against his cock. You’re babbling, hands reaching back to grip his thighs, nails digging into his flesh.

It’s not long before you’re gushing, clamping down, and seeing stars in your blacked-out vision. Hearing Roman moan and whine before he’s pulling out to cum over your back. The warmth spreads over your spine. He’s shivering, thighs twitching, and abdomen clenching. It’s never felt that good before.

You both pant and heave, body relaxing into the sheets. You’re exhausted, eyes lidding and drifting, faintly feeling the sensation of a towel wiping across your skin.

“Holy fuck-”

You smile softly, eyes closed. Roman plops down next to you in bed, watching as you roll over and sit against the headboard. He’s sweaty and so very good-looking. You smile in a chagrin manner, brushing a finger against his cheekbone.

“How’s that for an interview?”

You laugh, swatting his arm.

“You’re crazy.”

He smiles at you, strangely content. A pinprick of emotions swells in his chest, and you feel that influx of rot starts to crawl its way up your chest. He’s so beautiful, that you’d hate to see him crumble when he finds out you already sent your paper to your editor to post.

But for now, you enjoy the small moment of peace between you two. You laugh and joke and keep this sweet until morning until he realizes what you’ve done.

[james-kojirou]

James from Team Rocket is a truly complex character and very difficult to understand. At first glance, he appears confident and arrogant, but that's a role he plays as the "Team Rocket villain" and on stage, as explained in episodes DP 139: "A Faux Oak Finish" and DP 146: "Dressed for Jess Success!"

In private, outside his Team Rocket role, he is calm, rather shy, he is very anxious and follows his teammates' ideas even when he doesn't fully agree with their plans.

In the episode "A Hole Lotta Trouble," Brock and Ash tell James that he must learn to assert himself without his teammates.

James had a childhood in the high aristocracy, where he could have anything material he wanted, but his parents gave him no affection, demeaned him, and forced him to follow strict and severe discipline like in the Victorian era. They also forced him into an arranged engagement with Jessiebelle, allowing her to train him with whips. He kept a deep trauma from this period of his life.

He joined Team Rocket to rebel against the rules and proper conduct imposed on him in his childhood.

In an interview, the Japanese voice actors of Team Rocket: Megumi Hayashibara, Inuko Inuyama, and Miki Shinichiro, revealed that Jessie's goal in Team Rocket is to become rich or an important woman (which is why she dislikes Matori), Meowth also wishes to be important by taking the place of the boss's favorite Pokémon, replacing Persian. However, James's objective is solely to support and help his two friends achieve their goals and dreams, making them happy.

When James gains a little confidence in himself or engages in an activity he's passionate about and sure he can succeed, he becomes overly enthusiastic. However, he quickly falls into depression if he fails. An episode that shows this aspect of his personality is 'The Fortune Hunters' when James imagines himself as a powerful Moltres due to the description in a Pokemon horoscope book, which turns out to be false.

He is also willing to wholeheartedly encourage people he admires, like Jessie during her Kalos contests or 'The Royal Mask' (under the pseudonym Fire-Kojiro, reminiscent of when he felt strong and proud like a Moltres).

Yet, when he has to put himself in the spotlight outside of Team Rocket missions, he feels terribly uncomfortable and automatically convinces himself that he will lose or isn't capable (The Battlefield of Truth and Love!, Dressed for Jess Success, Party Dancecapades)."

Unlike Jessie, who thinks she's the best at everything, James has very low self-esteem and undervalues himself: believing for example others can take better care of his own Pokemon like Gardenia with Cacnea or Mareanie with her ex-boyfriend. He also thinks Jessie will be happier with Dr. White than with him in Team Rocket.

As demonstrated in episode 19 of "Pokémon Journeys" - A Talent for Imitation! Jessie is an excellent self-confidence coach, pushing her teammates and Pokémon to go beyond their limits and overcome their fears and apprehensions.

Jessie and Meowth are both invaluable support for James. Through their friendship and the trust they give him, he finally feels loved and respected for who he truly is. They are more than just friends; they are his family!

James may appear naive and childish, often being very emotional and crybaby. Despite this, he excels in a lot of various fields, such as being an excellent technician, a talented actor, a poet, and well-informed about Pokemon… He's also skilled in computer science and hacking. On rare occasions when he's involved in a Pokemon battle or contest, he performs remarkably well.

When he forgot his fear under the effect of adrenaline to protect his Mareanie, he even demonstrated incredible strength!

Even though he is part of Team Rocket, James doesn't have a truly evil nature. In reality, he is a compassionate Pokemon trainer, loving his Pokemon so much that their affection hurts him physically, yet he always lets them show their love to him in this way. 💖

[girlactionfigure]

Spotted at the pro-Israel rally in Washington: Yasmine Pahlavi, wife of Persian Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi.

The Iranian royal family lives in exile in America, where they remain strong supporters and allies of Israel.

[bookishfeylin]

I know you don't usually do these kinds of posts, but you're probably one of the most implicated in black history month people that I follow so I wanted to ask you, as I already value your opinions in Acotar, what do you think of the documentary where actual historians claim Cleopatra was a black woman? Lately, this has been a pretty active topic on my fyp on TikTok, and I wanted to know a black woman's perspective on this.

Thank you in advance, and if you usually don't answer these questions or don't want to answer this one, I'll totally understand, and there's no problem at all.

I didn’t know there was a new documentary out, but when I saw the name Cleopatra I automatically sighed because I knew what was coming. This is a subject a know a little 🤏🏾 about, actually, because I researched it a bit myself in my last year of high school (and stopped because of the uh. NASTINESS associated with this particular subject) and though it’s been a few years I remembered some main, basic things, and I wanted to check a few things first.

At best, in the most CHARITABLE interpretation as far as I in my limited knowledge can tell, it would be correct to say that’s it’s POSSIBLE that she MAY have been mixed Black because, though she was part of the GREEK Ptolemaic dynasty that ruled Egypt (Ptolemy being one of Alexander the Great’s generals who got the Egyptian portion of his empire after Alexander died), that’s on her fathers side; her mother’s exact ethnicity isn’t known. Not that this won’t stop the hoteps from running off and claiming her and all of ancient Egypt as Black though So some have ***speculated*** that her mother—and thus Cleopatra��may have potentially been part Egyptian (and that goes into the issue of deciding that the “Egyptian” in this instance had to have been Black rather than MENA but that’s again a whole other can of worms). BUT it’s more likely that her mother was Greek due to the uh, PRACTICE™️ of inbreeding and it not being common for the dynasty to marry Egyptians. So it’s more probable that she was fully Greek/Macedonian and not part Egyptian, much less part Black. (Also some historians speculate she may have had Persian blood? I guess? Again it’s a can of worms, not something i’m digging deep into because of the nastiness that you often stumble across) Unless there’s a new study confirming her mother’s identity or something that I missed, it’s simply incorrect to claim that Cleopatra was undeniably Black, because though it is ***possible*** she most likely ***wasn’t.***

But this topic really upsets me, because there are LEGITIMATE Black kingdoms and empires who were mighty and well developed and powerful like the Aksumite empire and kingdoms of Kongo and Loango and the Great Zimbabwe empire and the empires of Ghana and Mali and Songhay and the Ashanti kingdom and the WHOLE SWAHILI COAST THAT WAS INVOLVED IN THE INDIAN OCEAN TRADE ROUTE and they had their own great rulers, their own kings and queens and emperors and empresses, their palaces and castles, their own cities and towns, their own complex civilizations and dynastic royal families that deserve the attention Cleopatra and ancient Egypt get. They were erased—and Egypt was not—by white people to prop themselves up as the only race capable of forming civilizations and advanced societies as a means of justifying colonization and imperialism to “civilize” the rest of the world and as a result many of those other empires have been erased from our education system here in the states and many people cling to ancient Egypt as proof that we’re not inferior and aren’t savages like white people claim due to believing that since Egypt’s in Africa it had to have been mostly Black when Egypt, and the Ptolemaic dynasty and Cleopatra in PARTICULAR, are literally the worst example that could’ve been chosen and were the only African kingdom spared erasure FOR A REASON.

Anyway, I don’t like it, it’s disingenuous and does US wrong because we need to give that energy to other African kingdoms that need and could use the fame Egypt + Cleopatra get, and we deserve a better education system to teach us this stuff. I hope this answers your question? And I don’t mind any kinds of asks 🥰

[whencyclopedia]

Thessalonike of Macedon

Thessalonike of Macedon (c. 345-295 BCE) was the daughter of Philip II of Macedon (r. 359-336 BCE) and one of his several consorts, Nikesipolis of Pherae (also spelt Nicesipolis). Born to the Argead family of Macedonian rulers like her half-brother Alexander the Great (r. 336-323 BCE), Thessalonike married Cassander (r. 305-297 BCE), and after his death, she probably acted as regent for their sons.

In contrast with such a high profile, historical details about Thessalonike's life are relatively rare. And yet, her character still casts resounding echoes in both myths and history, in her legendary personification as a mermaid and as the eponym of Greek's second largest, emporium city, Thessaloniki.

Birth & Family

The uncertainties around Thessalonike's historical background start with her date of birth. In the absence of direct hints in ancient writings, scholars have tried to use the meaning of her name as a clue. Stephanus of Byzantium, a 6th-century grammarian, in his geographical encyclopedia, Ethnica, notes that 'Thessalian Victory' was an expression to celebrate Philip II's victory (nike) in Thessaly (Ethnica, v. 'Thessalonike'). Philip’s first grand victory in Thessaly, at the Battle of Crocus Field, effectively awarded the king of Macedon with the life-long archonship of this major Greek city-state right at the south of his kingdom. The title was granted to him by the Thessalians themselves, who had initially called for his help to fend off the Phocians. Philip has been openly applauded by both ancient and modern historians for his numerous political and military achievements in Greece. And yet, this enormous boost of his power as the ruler of Thessaly – and, in effect, of all city-state members of the Amphictyonic League – was nothing less than the dawn of Macedonian glory in the Hellenic world, where the Macedonians were always regarded with contempt.

Philip's victory over the Phocians and their allies, a formidable and ferocious force fighting against the Amphictyonic League in the Third Sacred War (354-346 BCE), scored the first auspicious, game-changing point for the League after a series of inconclusive battles. Philip could also reduce the Phocians' capability by securing an alliance with their main supporter in Thessaly, the city of Pherae, by taking Nikesipolis, a young lady from the family of Jason of Pherae – an ex-ruler of Thessaly – most likely as his second wife (marriage is not verbally mentioned to have taken place, although it is hardly doubtful given the context and later events). Therefore, many scholars connect the birth of Philip's new princess - purportedly an immediate outcome of her mother’s union with him - with the Battle of Crocus Field in 353/2 BCE.

This dating, however, may not match comfortably with the other turning points of Thessalonike's life. Philip II was assassinated in 336 BCE at the wedding of his elder daughter, Cleopatra, with her maternal uncle, Alexander I of Epirus (r. 343/2-331 BCE). The marriage was arranged by Philip himself – a common practice in the ancient Greek world, and many other nations' upper classes throughout history, to secure treaties, mitigate hostilities, pay tributes, or forge alliances. However, by the time of his death, Philip had not revealed any plans for Thessalonike's marital future, presumably because she was still very young. She was believed to be only a child when his half-brother, Alexander the Great, succeeded their father and took the lead in Philip's intended crushing campaign against the Persian Empire. Historians have established that royal women of the Argead court became marriageable in their mid-teens. Thessalonike's half-sisters, Cynane and Cleopatra, were given to the men chosen by their father in their late teens. Therefore, it is unlikely that Philip II in 336 BCE had not already introduced a potential son-in-law for a 17-year-old daughter.

A second date that may question 353/2 BCE for Thessalonike's birth is her marriage in 317 BCE or shortly after to Cassander (Kassandros, c. 355-297 BCE), a commander of Alexander the Great and one of the ferocious belligerents in the Wars of the Diadochi, the succession struggle after the death of Alexander the Great. Cassander secured his claim on the Macedonian throne by turning out to be the ultimate winner of the Second War of the Diadochi when he took the strategically important harbour city of Pydna and put the chief claimants of Alexander's crown, his mother Olympias, his Persian wife Roxana (Roxanne) and their son Alexander IV, to death. Still, like the other Diadochi, Cassander also wished for a familial link with the Argeads to justify his succession of Alexander. And Thessalonike, one of the two surviving daughters of Philip II, was ideally close at hand. She was in Pydna with Olympias, who had raised her ever since Nikesipolis' death only 20 days after childbirth.

Cassander

The Trustees of the British Museum (Copyright)

Apart from obtaining justification, scholars believe that Cassander must have hoped to father a new branch of the Argead dynasty with Thessalonike. This could raise at least a few comments from ancient writers had he been marrying a 36-year-old woman. Moreover, in the heat of the Diadochi wars, it would have been even less likely for Olympias to leave her stepdaughter unmarried for such a long time without trying to use her in the fabrication of an empowering alliance with a king and/or commander. Again, relying on her name to figure out a terminus post quem, a date after which she must have been born, scholars now generally agree that Thessalonike was most likely born around 346/5 BCE, after her father's decisive victory that uprooted the Phocian power once and for all and thus terminated the Third Sacred War. Based on this date, she would be around 9 years old on Philip's assassination and in her late twenties at the time of her marriage to Cassander.

Continue reading...

[galaxygirl-katie27]

Vector Redesign

Tap for better quality

Notes under the cut!

-Okay so first of all, I had to finally figure out his nationality, so that it would make sense with the story. Which led me to my headcanon of Vector being Turkish-Persian mixed, with his father being Turkish and his mother being Persian. But ultimately he would be the prince, later king, of Persia. I‘d like to make a full post about this topic specifically later, but in short: His father was the second Turkish prince, so in order to be king himself, he married into the persian royal family, who had no male heir, so he could have his own kingdom. So that later, Vector could jut walk through Türkiye with his army to attack Nasch in Greece, because of his blood-relation to their royal family without any problems.

-To the design. I gave him a ponytail, just to try it out, but I just liked it so much, that I had to stick with it.

-He has big eye bags from Insomnia, because of many nightmares almost every night. He has major PTSD from his past, that sill haunts him.

-He has a tooth gap (where he actually lost a tooth) and many scars and bandaids, because this boy is just always hurt (most of it because of the Ray-Way). I once read a headcanon, that all of Ray`s clumsiness wasn’t even acted, Vector is just like that. He still bumps into all kinds of furniture post-series.

-Also he ruined all his pants at one point because of his clumsiness and because the others (Nasch) don’t want to buy him new ones, he just patched them up himself, and yes he did poke himself with the needle multiple times.

-FRECKLES. No elaboration needed.

-Big father issues. Also no elaboration needed.

-This boy never ties his shoes, which also doesn’t help his clumsiness. Also he wears mismatched shoes, but they match enough for him and he just doesn’t think anyone notices. Everyone notices.

-He is one of the people with the most Trauma. If you ask him how he‘s doing he‘d say: „I take antidepressants.“ And he does! He got them perscribed, after an… incident. I wont go into detail, but I think you can guess what happened. And while most of the barians still don’t exactly like him, they don’t want him to die. He also refuses to go to proper therapy. Yuma is his therapy.

-He also has ADHD, which I think he always had, even in his past life. He got it diagnosed post series, when Yuma talked to him about his ADHD (another headcanon of mine) and Vector just heavily related to many things Yuma said and so he proposed that maybe he should get a diagnose. Which tuned out positive.

-Also he‘s a cat owner. I read so many fics, where he just adopts a cat. It’s mostly to spite Rio, when he came across a little kitten box on the side of the road one day. But he got so attached to it, it‘s his family now. It’s a little white female kitten, who is also deaf and her name is Pestilence, Pesty for short. He is also so good at hiding her. The barians only found out about her like 6 months after Vector got her. There was a massive discussion, but in the end Vector got to keep her. She is now his emotional support cat.

-He also reads a bit, but it only consists of the most cliche, sappy, stereotypical romance stories you can find, to make fun of them.

-His past life redesign is like the biggest redesign up until now, since I researched ancient Persian an Turkish royal robes, because even when he‘s the prince/king of Persia, I think his father would still bring some of his Turkish background into the family.

-And since I made him older again (and tanner, because he was more in the sun in Persia than in Japan) I gave him a little goatee

-Also his robes are red to resemble his father, and how he is slowly turning into him (plus the goatee), but he still has blue in his clothes to resemble and respect his mother. I refuse to believe that he stopped loving her after her death. I think he always continued to love her deep inside and actually still misses her post series. He just doesn’t show it.

[artycomicfangirl]

I guess I wanted to experiment some more until I find the right design for Daisy's Mum? so here's some random quick sketches and what-ifs. Excuse my messy handwriting haha. Part 1, cause I have more!

• I reckon that face wise, Daisy shares a lot more resemblance to her mother. I took inspiration for this from the 1993 Super Mario Bros movie, as Daisy’s mother is literally played by the same actress in the flashback. But with much darker hair.

• But in terms with the flair and colouring, Daisy’s traits from her father shines much more!

• Usually I did want for the Queen to have Middle Eastern/Persian inspiration. But i kind of given her the name Laelia, because it is a flower of Mexican origin. I know it’s too much of a reach. But sort of like Sarasaland’s Portuguese/Spanish influence?

• I’m thinking so far that Laelia is from a Kingdom that prides itself in artifacts? Knowledge? Gems? Honestly not sure yet! But I know that she really adores nature and studies subjects relating to nature.

• As a Princess, she wears mostly Mauves and blues, to symbolize a blue orchid. And possibly the colours or her kingdom. After she marries into the Royal Sarasaland Family, she starts to wear more brighter and warm colours, showing how she truly loves and embraces the land’s culture.

• The King, Richard (since the fans seem to have given him this name, so I’ll refer to him as that!) Absolutely adores the Queen. From their first meeting, he was already quite smitten with her! But she wasn’t focused on love at first, and was studying at the time. Every simply glance she gives him. Every time she politely calls his name. It reduces the tough and stern King into a flustered mess.

It was even more prominent even before they were crowned! He tried to impress her on some occasions haha.

He’ll be afraid of silly things. But if it’s right in front of her, he’ll puff up his chest and brave it out…most of the time!

Is it cheesy for him to say that her eyes shine like the most beautiful of gemstones? Well, according to his Royal friends they might!

• It’s also why that if the Queen was ‘whisked away forever’, Richard becomes absolutely devastated. Heartbroken. The Queen brought warmth into his life, and it was taken away from him. But knowing that he still has his Daughter, is enough to keep him going.

But! I wonder if there’s a possibility of her returning somehow?

[spectres-fulcrum]

I need to sleep but can confirm right off the bat the Alexander The Great docuseries was like this guy was gay and dating his best friend.

Complete with a sweet make out in the lake that Ptolomy ruined. They started perhaps aptly with the trio leaving exile after that year Alex was exiled.

(The summaries confirmed what episode was the Battle of Issus, they did the Alexander meets Darius' family scene super weirdly and pretended Darius had only a daughter and a wife when it was his wife, two daughters, son, and mom and they weren't threatening him. Alexander promised to treat them nicely. They butchered the He Too Is Alexander line. Very Weird as it's one of the big events.

I've written entire stories from Drypetis' pov so the Persian Royal family is something I I feel strongly about. )

[reveriedraffs]

I think i know why Christian was set to Marry Devi... (My theory i uploaded on reddit was removed by the admin idk why?)

It was bugging me from the moment when Christian said that he wanted to marry Devi from the very beginning although dozens hid this fact from her to spar her to get married to Christian. But why he wanted to marry her? Christian didn't know Devi and the latter came way before Devi met Ian. so what was he insisted to marry on marrying and devi only. also if it was because he show her portrait then he could've remember her when they meet for the first time.

After thinking about it so much i couldn't come to theory or connect the dots that not until i was sitting with my dad watching the news (I am Indian btw) and suddenly the news was talking about the most famous and precious jewel of india "Kohinoor" i am not sure how many of you know about this but this diamond it very "precious", "Priceless" and "CURSED" yes this diamond is "cursed" it was called cursed because of that soley diamond in the past war has fought for 500 years or more. and it has killed everyone who tried to posses that diamond the biggest empire has collapsed because of this mere diamond although it's not a mere diamond. because in reality, this diamond belongs to the gods.

The Koh-i-Noor Diamond isa a 186-caratt diamond with a curse affecting only men. According to folklore, a Hindu description of the diamond warns that “he who owns this diamond will own the world, but will also know all its misfortunes. Only God or woman can wear it with impunity.” Throughout history, the gem traded hands among various Hindu, Mongolian, Persian, Afghan and Sikh rulers, who fought bitter and bloody conflicts to own it. Every prince whohadf the diamond would ultimately lose his power if not his life. For over 500 years the stone changed hands in gruesome battles and vicious coups.

The kingdom of Golconda(current day state of Telengana,India), The khilji Empire,The Tughlaq Empire,The Lodhi Empire,The Mughal Empire,The Maratha Empire,The kingdom of Persia,The Durrani Empire,The Afghan Khanate,The Sikh Empire all collapsed one behind the other while owning the Koh-i-noor Diamond.The height of the curse can be seen in the fact that even World level Empires crumbled below the weight of the curse.The British East India company owned the Jewel since the Annexation and Disbandment of the Sikh Empire. But only 7–8 years following the looting of the jewel,the revolt of 1857 literally destroyed the east IndiaCompanyy from its roots.

Historical records indicate the diamond was acquired by the British in 1849 and given to Queen Victoria in 1850. To heed its legend, the diamond has since only been worn by women, including Queen Alexandra of Denmark, Queen Mary of Teck and the late Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother, wife of King George VI.

In 1936, the stone was set into the crown of the wife of King George VI, Queen Elizabeth (later known as the Queen Mother). The British Royal family was aware of the Curse of the Koh-i-Noor, and from the reign of Queen Victoria the Kohinoor diamond has always gone to the wife of the male heir to the British throne

Currently, it is set as one of the jewels within a British monarchy crown that is kept at the Tower of London Jewel House.

I am telling you the whole story because?

here is the dots to this theory:

Sharma owns the mines for gemstones, diamonds, and crystals not only in Bengal but in very different places on all over India.

Devi's brother died while trying to save the bride.

Those who came to kill people talked about letting "Women alive and killing all the men" A simple person may think they said it to use them later on. if so then why was Rati killed?

Devi becomes the heir of the Sharma household, and Kamal insists on making Devi the heir why? i understand that is because Kairas was his best friend but he could've easily let Devi's uncle become the heir.

For some reason Kamal agreed to marry off Devi to Ian suddenly? like that man fought for 5 years against everyone then why did he turn his back suddenly?

Also I personally thin Ian chose devi for specific reasons too, like right now she is the head of Sharma's house but even when she wasn't he wanted to marry her and only her.

The Koh-i-noor might be found on devi's mine. as it holds the power of god and specifically it is cursed. As it said that "Only God or Woman can wear it with IMPUNITY" where Impunity simply means exemption from punishment or freedom from the injurious consequences of an action.

Or Devi personally is or is the koh-i-noor itself. Or Maybe British knew about the diamond and it's real power. They have stole diamonds from Taj Mahal too but they knew that the diamond who belongs to god holds its own power so they might need someone for that. Devi. Not only she is related to Maa Kali, she is girl and if they choose Devi and then found diamond form her mine then they can ask her to give it to them as in original i mean in reality that's how the koh-i-noor to the queen, they manipulate the royal family livin' in the England making them into thinking it was a simple diamond was given to the queen but in reality it was more then that!

I think they knew about the mines or something similar related to it.

[cutejk123]

Violet's Friends

So a couple of weeks ago, I used picrew to create Blossom's friends. I promised you guys that I would do Violet's friends (Luigi and Daisy's eldest daughter fan child), So here they are:

Which one is your favourite out of all of them, let me know <3

Here is the link

TOON ME! ⟪ A ⟫｜Picrew

Lilliahoshi

Age 14

Female

Straight, ''Cis''

She/her

Birthday: May 13th

White

Dad- Andy, Mum- Shirahoshi (The mermaid princess from ''One Piece''- a fan child)

Has a 19 year old older brother named Rikoboshi and a 16 year old older brother named Saunoboshi

Has 3 pets: A Ragdoll cat (Female, colour: blue bicolour) named Aqua, a Husky dog (Male, colour: black and white) named Megolo II and a Holland Lop rabbit (Female, colour: white) named Melody

She is a mermaid princess and she is part of the mermaid royalty

Also, she has a mermaid form

She is a Christian

She is Violet's best friend, they hang out a lot together and have lots of fun. Also they are there for each other no matter what.

Such an Amazing Singer

Lilliahoshi first met Violet when they were babies, since both their parents know each other very well and they have been very close ever since. They love to see each other as much as they can. Another thing that Lilliahoshi is Violet's opposite, Violet is the tomboy and Lilliahoshi is the girly girl.

Personality: kind, a sweetheart, friendly, a cry-baby (like her mother), cowardly, royal, grateful, shy, gentle, talented, humble, a bit gassy, sensitive, creative.

Loves: singing, learning about her mermaid line, mermaids, the ocean, sea animals, playing the piano and violin, hanging out with friends (especially Violet), Violet's little sister Blossom, her family, her pets, swimming, shopping, music, collecting shells, giving hugs and kisses, going to the beach.

Dislikes: sharks, being embarrassed, the dark, being gassy a lot, screaming, loud noises, creepy animals like bats, people negatively commenting on her looks, dark stories.

Clothing aesthetic style: VSCO, Soft girl and Mermaidcore.

Delilah

Age 14

Female

Lesbian, ''Cis''

She/her

Birthday: September 27th

White

Dad- Alvin, Mum- Joanne

Has a 10 year old younger brother named Alvin Jr.

Has no pets

She wears heart-shaped glasses on her head.

She's in love with Y2K/90s girl bands and she even have lots of posters in her room.

She came out as a lesbian around the same time when she turned 14 years old and her parents and her brother were very accepted for that and believes that she can be in love with anyone that she wants to choose.

She is part of the Girls' Basketball team at school.

She has a Lesbian flag up in her room.

Delilah first met Violet during the first day of the spring term, when they were 13 years old. Delilah had moved house and as a result, also have to move schools. Delilah was very nervous but Violet welcomed her into her friendship group and from that point, they became great friends. Also, Violet has been very supportive of Delilah's sexual orientation and accepts her as a human being who is loved.

Personality: tomboyish, loyal, friendly, cool, sociable, funny, kind, supportive, honest, sassy, strong, brave, adventurous, personable.

Loves: basketball, sports, Y2K music, The Spice Girls, Britpop, making videos about her sexual orientation and Y2K things, yoga, hanging out with friends, bubble tea, going to parties, going to clothes shopping.

Dislikes: getting sick, people being homophobic, waking up too early, fake people, tomatoes, certain drama, selfishness, coconuts, burnt popcorn.

Clothing aesthetic style: Y2K.

Fatima

Age 14

Female

Straight, ''Cis''

She/her

Birthday: April 6th

Asian- Arabic (Saudi)

Dad- Adeel, Mum- Zara

Has a 11 year old younger sister named Halima, an 8 year old younger brother named Qamar, a 5 year old younger brother named Ezra (has autism), and a 2 year old younger sister named Basma (has autism).

Has 1 pet: A Persian cat (Male, colour: ginger) named Biscuit.

She was originated from Saudi Arabia, and she moved to Brooklyn when she was 8 years old.

She has Autism (ASD)

She is a Muslim

Supports Palestine (Free Palestine!!)

She is a Bookworm and would read books every day.

Arabic is her first language, so she has an Arabic accent

She is a member of the Book Club at school and really enjoys talking about books (that is her main hyperfixation).

Fatima first met Violet during English class in primary school, when they were 9 years old. Fatima started talking about her favourite books that she loved to read and Violet was interested in Fatima's love for books and they friendship grew.

Personality: smart, thoughtful, kind, friendly, cheerful, childlike, bright, hard-worker, silly at times, creative, curious.

Loves: reading, books, her family and friends, writing stories, poems and fanfiction, watching children's shows, Bluey, Muslim holidays, playing games with her siblings, bedtime stories, learning about book history, relaxing time, cooking.

Dislikes: modern music, travelling far, sports, dirty rooms, rude people, bullying about her interests, wasps.

Clothing aesthetic style: Light Academia and Cottagecore.

Cordelia

Age 14

Female

Bisexual, Demigirl

She/they

Birthday: December 10th

White

Dad- Logan, Mum- Meghan

Has a 12 year old younger sibling (sister) named Angel, who is non-binary and goes by they/them (They are in Violet's little sister Blossom's year/class and they are good friends with River and Mars, which are Blossom's friends).

Has 2 pets: A Maine Coon cat (Male, colour: black) named Boxy, and a Golden Retriever (Female, colour: yellow) named Mei.

She has Anxiety

She is really good at playing the electric guitar.

She is a TikToker

Gothic lover

She is a video gamer and they sometimes streams when they are free or have time.

She also is learning how to speak Japanese, and they are quite good at it.

Cordelia first met Violet during Art class when they were 12 years old, Violet was impressed by Cordelia's drawing abilities. Cordelia jokily said, ''That's my superpower.'' They laughed together and the friendship grew ever since.

Personality: moody, sensitive, sassy, kind, helpful, thoughtful, cool, charming, gentle, a bit rude, responsible, creative, tomboyish.

Loves: drawing, art, rock and gothic music, playing the electric guitar, cosplaying, making TikTok videos, anime, spiders, Bluey, playing video games, hanging out with friends, going to anime conventions, Japanese language, her sibling and their pets, J-rock boy bands.

Dislikes: being lonely, having panic attacks, tight rooms, people annoying her, crowded areas, pop music, cute and bright pastel colours, maths.

Clothing aesthetic style: Goth and E-girl.

Tori

Age 14

Female

Straight, ''Cis''

She/her

Birthday: July 1st

Black

Dad- Nathan, Mum- Harmony

She is the only child

Has 1 pet: A Pomeranian dog (Female, colour: white) named Nova.

A Fashion enthusiast (mainly on Y2K, Mcbling and Baddie).

A Great Singer

A Bracelet Maker and she often makes jewellery that is inspired by the Y2K era.

 She is a Make-up artist and would do her friends' make up for amazing parties or special occasions.

Tori first met Violet in primary school, when they were 4 years old. Both Tori and Violet were in the same class, so they became really good friends, alongside Lilliahoshi. Also Tori loved doing people's hair and decorating it with hair accessories, so she did both Violet's and Lilliahoshi's hair and using accessories to make it prettier.

Personality: cheerful, funny, giggly, kind, friendly, fashionable, thoughtful, a bit sassy, lovable, enthusiastic.

Loves: jewellery making, singing, learning about fashion, fashion styles, designing clothes, her family and friends, hanging out with friends, make-up, watching Y2K shows, Barbie and Bratz dolls, making bracelets for her friends, her dog, the colour pink, reading fashion magazines, doing people's hairstyles, Y2K music.

Dislikes: messy rooms, being disorganised, people being mean and rude, petty drama, getting sick, jealous people, science, geography. 

Clothing aesthetic style: Baddie, Y2K, and Barbiecore.

Now, my Luigi and Daisy's fanchildren's friends and their AUs are complete ;)

my friends, I hope you guys like it @itsavee4117 @gracegootee @jessythebunny @jammyjams1910 @oh-my-gosh-its-j0sh @mrs-luigi-vargas

[jeannereames]

I know this can be too much of an outlier, but do we have any idea if Alexander was a particularly fashionable person? Either if he was into fashion itself or if he was considered fashionable in his clothing style for example

Clothes Make the King?

Alexander’s clothing choices weren’t about fashion, but about POLITICS. What he wore sent a message.

First, three quick points about clothes in ancient Greece:

They were relatively simple with few sewn seams, and by Alexander’s day, any patterning largely along the edges. Most was made of wool, linen being very pricy.

They were made at home by one’s female family members. Yes, even the wealthy. A woman’s worth wasn’t measured by her pie crust or biscuits, but her weaving quality.*

They were expensive if one had to purchase cloth (as opposed to having it made at home). Most people had only a handful of tunics, one cloak and/or one himation (wrap), and one pair of shoes.

And finally, pertinent to this discussion:

By the 4th century, especially austere clothing was associated with moral virtue, while highly patterned clothing + lots of jewelry with moral decadence (the East/Persia).

Ergo, descriptions of Alexander’s clothing in the sources send a moral message: as he descended into vices and Asian tyranny, authors show him wearing extravagant, Asian-style clothing.

BUT he also did make choices of what to wear (insofar as we can be sure they were his choices), that conveyed his own messaging. Detangling his messaging from later author’s messaging is a continual problem, but sometimes it’s possible.

We’re told Alexander dressed the same as his soldiers. Differences in wealth would have been indicated by the quality of the wool and COLOR, but not the style. Being able to wear, say, black (made from the wool of baby lambs born black but who turn white as they age), or saffron yellow (made from the tiny pistils of flowers), or dark blue or purple (made from murex snails and imported at a hefty price)—THOSE tell you the person has money. The cut and drape of the clothing mostly doesn’t. You can pick out the king by the bright dot of yellow or black in a sea of dun, browns, dull reds, darker greens, and ecru.

What message is he sending? “I’m one of you…except the king”: primo inter pares (first among equals). Similarly, his armor was the same type, just brighter and better-made. His (iron!) helmet must have looked like he raided a mop closet with a big red horsehair crest and two fluffy white feather prongs beside it. But otherwise, it was a Phyrgian-style helm like the rest. This makes him easy to spot during battle, by his own men—but also the enemy. That’s also the point: he has the bravery to make himself a target.

After the death of Darius, he began to adopt some Persian royal dress, at least when dealing with Persians—with a couple exceptions. He refused to don trousers, the kandys (a special sleeved coat), and (maybe) the upright tiara. There’s some debate on the latter. Basically, he adopted Persian clothing that was less likely to offend the Greeks. It offended them anyway (because it was Persian), but he stayed away from garments especially associated with Asia: hated Asian trousers, the kandys, and the Persian “crown,” or upright tiara, going with the less offensive diadema that was already in use in Greece, albeit not as a symbol of royalty. Men already regularly wore a fillet; it was as ubiquitous as a ballcap in the US (and equally associated with “sporty” types).

So, he was trying to walk a middle road with the symbols of kingship while avoiding the more notorious. Again, he seems to have let COLOR stand in, giving purple cloaks and hats (kausia) to his Companions (Hetairoi), and Persian-style red horse trappings.

So he wasn’t a fashion guru in the usual sense. As king, he set style, he didn’t mimic it. Below is a late Hellenistic-era statue of him (Demetrio Alexander) wearing what seems to be standard Macedonian soldier dress.

Here are two earlier posts (with pictures!) about Macedonian (top) and Greek (bottom) clothing.

* There’s a funny story of Alexander getting in trouble by sending the Persian royal women a gift of weaving material for their entertainment. In Persia, slaves and low-borns did the weaving, so they thought he was telling them they were to be slaves and/or insulting them. He’d meant it as a compliment! His own mother (and/or sisters) made his clothing, so he was offering them status as his family members.