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lavendermoonlove · 2 months ago

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Mugwort - Plant profile #2

Helloo lovely readers! Today I am continuing my plant profile series. This is a series where I share my research and UPG regarding a plant, or discover a whole new plant. One of the things that I want to incorporate into my practice, is taking a lunar cycle to form a bond with a new plant ally and work closely with it. This means that on or around the new moon, I will pick an herb that I want to work closely with and research its history, folklore and traditional & modern practice. Then during the waxing moon, I will craft and meditate with the plant according to the moon phase. On the full moon, as my bond heightens, I will charge said herb under the moonlight or choose to incorporate it in a big ritual. As the moon wanes, I will craft workings with the herb according to the moon phase. During these moon phases, I will journal in detail how this herb makes me feel and what energies I pick up during these different lunar contexts. For the upcoming cycle, that herb is going to be mugwort. My initial research on the herb will be depicted here.

Names Latin: Artemisia vulgaris Folk names: Artemis herb, Artemisia, Felon herb, Muggons, Naughty Man, Old Man, Old Uncle Henry, Sailor’s Tobacco, St. John’s plant, mother of herbs (Mater Herbarum) Other names: Cronewort, Common wormwood

Plant profile Gender: Feminine Planet: Venus Element: Earth Deities: Artemis, Hekate Personal correspondences: Psychic abilities, dreams, astral projection and protection. Other correspondences: Strength, healing, divination

***Preface warnings*** Mugwort should absolutely not be ingested nor smelled in any shape, way or form by individuals who are pregnant. It can lead to miscarriages. Furthermore, people with diabetes should stay away from mugwort. Mugwort contains the neurotoxin compound thujone, which in high concentrations may lead to seizures and an abortive effect. Please be careful with how much mugwort you use and limit it to either a cup of tea OR as incense in a day, but not both.

Folk uses Stuffing a pillow with mugwort and sleeping upon it will produce prophetic dreams or aid with lucid dreams. Anointing divinatory tools with a mugwort infusion or oil can aid in divination. Placing mugwort in a bundle above the door will keep negative spirits from entering. This is because doors are liminal spaces that make it easier for spirits—whether benevolent or malefic—to enter. Mugwort can also protect its wearer when carried in a spell bag. Putting mugwort in shoes can help with strength and stamina during long walks or runs. A Roman invocation was used to say this when picking mugwort before sunrise: Tollam te artemisia, ne lassus sim in via. “I take of you, artemisia, lest I grow weary on the road.”

Apart from magical workings, the plant has also been associated with helping treat conditions in women like infertility, irregular menstruation and problems with pregnancy. This is where the name Artemisia might have derived from, as the Greek goddess Artemis was the goddess of childbirth.

Modern uses In modern times, mugwort is much beloved for divinatory purposes. Teas are made of mugwort and drunk during divinatory work or before astral projection & lucid dreaming. Mugwort incense is burned for the same purposes. This is because mugwort contains thujone, a psychoactive compound that produces an oneirogenic effect, or brings the consciousness to a dream like state. Often this is characterised by an immersive REM state, making it easier for us to access our subconscious mind and receive messages from spirits, deities or our subconscious mind. This is also why it aids in astral projection and lucid dreaming. Regular drinking of mugwort tea can therefore also help enhance and be more in tune with your intuition, to navigate daily life.

Folklore Mugwort holds a lot of folklore, dating back to ancient Greece. As it has a vast history and folklore, I will try to summarise the most important bits here.

Mugwort was first called Artemisia vulgaris, deriving its name from the goddess Artemis. The first association has already been deducted. However, mugwort has many more associations with Artemis. Despite it being ruled by venus, due to its psychic abilities, its long been associated with the moon too, which touches on the lunar aspect of Artemis. Its silver-green leaves further build upon this association, as Artemis is associated with both silver, as a moon goddess, and green, as the goddess of the wilderness. Hekate was regarded in ancient times as the khtonian Artemis, also being associated with childbirth and a protector of women, therefore mugwort is also associated with Hekate.

It was believed that mugwort would protect from malefic spirits on St. John’s eve, thus gaining it’s folk name as St. John’s plant. This was done by wearing a crown made by its sprays and wearing it on St. John’s eve. St. John’s eve, would be close and similar to Midsummer or Litha, making mugwort a perfect protective plant during this sabbat. During medieval times in the Netherlands and Germany, the believe was that if mugwort is gathered on St. John’s eve (and thus Litha) it would protect against diseases and misfortunes.

Mugwort gains its title as mother of all herbs due to it being held sacred by various cultures and thought to be the oldest of plants. It’s particularly viewed as a plant that offered protection to humans. Before the discovery of hops, mugwort was used to give flavour to beers.

In the pagan Anglo-Saxan nine herbs charm—a charm to heal a wound of some kind—mugwort is one of the nine herbs invoked. The other herbs were chamomile, nettle, fennel, crab apple, plantain, watercress, chervil and cockspur grass or betony.

Harvesting yourself Mugwort is a weed that you can find in both the city and countryside. Therefore it’s really accessible to harvest yourself! Harvesting mugwort on the full moon or new moon for example, mainly due to its association with the moon, can be a potent tool and ally in your craft. Be sure to ask the plant for permission upon harvesting and give an offering in return. Especially if you plan on working with the plant spirit.

Personal uses Mugwort is a staple offering to Hekate and Artemis in my practice. I strongly associate it with them. With the upcoming Elaphebolia (6th of march), it’s a perfect offering for the goddess Artemis alongside for example a prayer. I also use mugwort infusion to anoint and bless my divination tools, mainly my scrying mirror and pendulum. When practicing with lucid dreaming or inner journey meditation, I drink an infusion containing mugwort alongside other herbs. I have yet to incorporate it in protection workings, but as I am entering this lunar cycle working closely with it, I am curious to experience its protective effects alongside its other uses. Who knows, maybe I will break a long-distance running record?

Thank you so much for reading this again longwinded post haha. If you have any questions or remarks please let me know!

Have a blessed day!

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coldbronzemoon · 18 days ago

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And Now We're Back to Get Some More

A fic for @aroace-get-out-of-my-face 's fic "A Good Day to Die (Again)".

I just want these sadsacks to have a good time on their mini-road trip. This can be found on Ao3 too.

There was a lull in conversation in the car. It was not the first, and probably won’t be the last. Ford was grateful to have Stanley here in the car with him—so, so grateful, if whatever being that caused the time loop, should they exist, ever revealed itself to him he’d do whatever it demanded with no questions—but filling silence for multiple hours straight was still a tall task.

Both their voices were a bit raspy five hours in. Stan was still driving; Ford tried to persuade his brother to let him take the wheel on account of the bad bruise on Stan’s arm from being tackled to the ground during their reunion, but Stan stalwartly refused.

So Ford was in the passenger’s seat with the map, watching the cusps of trees on the side of the highway grow into woods and forests the further north they traveled. It was a pretty sight, most of the drive. He didn’t have the chance to admire it while he was driving down south dozens of times.

His heart jolted in his chest, thinking of the last week. The many last weeks. He looked at Stanley, for a second utterly convinced that the loop would reset and Ford would wake up and scream himself hoarse for a minute because dammit, he did it, he did it, don’t fucking take this from him and steal a car and drive and drive and drive and make it to the casino just to see Stan get shot through the head—

But Stanley was there, one hand on the wheel and the other arm braced on the rolled-down window like a trucker. There wasn’t any blood or bone fragments or brain splatter. He was just sitting there, squinting out at the road. He probably shouldn't be squinting, they weren’t facing the sun at the moment.

He opened his mouth, intending to ask about that. But he happened to look out the window at the sky, and it was the time of the year that the moon was visible in the sky in the day, and his brain leapt from the moon, to the stars, to the smoggy, dark canopy of sky over Glass Shard Beach, to them as children giving up on the real sky and looking at star charts instead.

“Tell me about Castor and Pollux,” he said.

It had been an old… not game, exactly, but an old pastime. The two of them had both liked Greek mythology when they were younger—for Stan it had mostly been an interest in the wars and magical powers and warriors with swords, but he suffered Ford’s interest in other parts of the mythology too. Ford would tell him all about a god, and Stanley would remember it.

Then he’d tell the tales he learned back to Ford. He was much better at making them proper stories than Ford, who always talked about things like a series of facts. Stanley made them fun.

When had their last round of myths been told? Ford thought it might’ve been around thirteen. Stan had braces then, and Ford hadn’t gotten his yet. He thought that his last recollection of Stanley telling Greek myths involved the lisp he gained for that period of time.

Pollux had been Polluc’shhh. Because it had been Castor and Pollux then, too. That had been their favorite constellation myth.

Twins, boxers, sailors. It was like they were cast in the image of those two gods. Back then, they would jokingly plot to change their names to Castor and Pollux after they sailed away, because anything was better than Stan and Stan, and get into scuffles over who had to be Castor and who got to be Pollux.

After all, Pollux was the immortal one. Ford would insist on Stan being Pollux if they were to fight over it again. Maybe Stan was already Pollux, in a way. What was a time loop if not a form of immortality?

Stanley blinked out of his harsh squint and glanced at him for a moment. Only a moment; Ford had already given him hell for keeping his eyes off the road because he was not dying in a car crash after everything.

“When the hell did you turn into resin, you sap,” Stan said.

“Are you going to tell me about them or not?” Ford said, ignoring the question entirely. The answer would be the moment I realized you could really die, and for now they were ignoring the amount of death that had happened for their collective sanity.

Stan sighed, a grand production, and said, “Alright, lessee if I remember anything...”

“Keep your eyes on the road while you remember,” Ford said.

He unfolded the map in his lap even though they had miles before any exits as Stan sighed and hummed and clicked his tongue just to be annoying. Ford was annoyed, which was annoying in of itself, but fondness overtook everything else.

“Right, stop me if I get it wrong, but Castor and Pollux, they were these twin brothers. Real hotshots, handsome as hell, as all twins are—”

Ford laughed. He had forgotten that Stan always started the myth like that. He wouldn’t have remembered it without Stan doing it again, and the thought unsettled him for a second.

But it was alright that Ford had forgotten. It was alright, because Stan was here, and telling the story again, and he’d always be here to do everything Ford had forgotten he did because nothing like what happened in that casino parking lot was ever allowed to happen again.

He settled into the seat of the El Diablo and let Stanley’s guff voice wash over him.

-----------------------------

At some point into Stan’s recollection of the lives of Castor and Pollux, which had slid into a recollection of a group of bikers Stan had run with in his early twenties, Stan abruptly stopped talking and pointed out a billboard.

Ford blinked awake from what wasn’t exactly a nap—he was still listening to Stanley—but nearly counted as one. He almost missed the billboard, and for a second was sure he misread it as it passed by.

The billboard declared that on an upcoming exit there was a “TRAIN OF TAXIDERMY”, featuring a picture of a rundown-looking set of boxcars that presumably held the taxidermy.

“That looks shitty as hell,” Stan said gleefully. “We should go see it.”

“They’re going to charge us twenty dollars each to look at stuffed rabbits,” Ford said.

“Sure are. We should go anyway. I’ve always seen signs for these stupid things and never gone.”

Ford considered Stanley from the corner of his eye. His brother could pay for his own fee with his casino winnings, so that wasn’t a problem… Ford remembered Stanley always having a fascination with this sort of thing. He’d happily point out any dead animals they saw in the area and listen on as Ford poked them with sticks and tried to determine the cause of death.

It wasn’t like Ford hadn’t also enjoyed himself. Hell, maybe the place would have some genuinely decent taxidermy, which would be interesting to look at. Maybe it’d even have something cursed!

“Why not?” he said. “Let’s go see it. It’ll add, what, an hour getting back?”

Stanley whooped with delight as Ford bent over the map and marked the exit for the Train of Taxidermy with a red marker Stan kept in the glove compartment.

The tourist trap was easy to find on account of the multiple signs pointing out where to go and clarifying how many miles more to get to it. The sight of the wooden pointing arms and faded white letters claiming to “shock” and “amaze” filled Ford with a rush of nostalgia for the boardwalk carnival of their childhood.

Coming up on the train itself—a bold claim, really, it was three boxcars set on an abandoned track, all of them painted lurid colors—was a slightly disappointing sight after all the fanfare. Stan and Ford got out of the car and made their way to the wooden stall near the parking lot for the site anyway. The pair were still riding the wave of getting out of an endless prison of death and were determined to enjoy themselves.

They engaged with the tourist trap’s cashier with a level of enthusiasm and ecstasy that had the bored teenage employee scrutinizing them with narrowed eyes, probably looking for signs of a different kind of ecstasy.

Still, they were directed to enter any boxcar they chose despite the wary look. Ford had no doubt that it had less to do with the girl being sure they were drug-free and more to do with the fact she wasn’t paid enough to care either way.

The hot pink boxcar was the closest one, and boasted “HUGE RACKS AND IMPRESSIVE BODIES”. Stan marched ahead to that one without Ford’s input, and Ford was forced to follow after.

He supposed he could’ve chosen to take one of the cars not emblazoned with a suggestive slogan, but that would require letting Stanley out of his sight. And that simply wasn’t going to happen.

It turned out that the car was mostly filled with deer, and dear Moses, they were awful. Stan was already cackling at the utterly hideous buck’s head that was mounted on the far wall, whose expression in death could only be described as ‘perturbed’. There were multiple doe in the car as well, posed in what was probably supposed to be frolicing motions, but looked more like seizures. The fur and skin were obviously stitched together from several deer, and yet it seemed far too tight over the false bone and muscle inside.

“I could do better,” Stan said, prodding at the buck’s antlers. There was no one around to stop him from doing it. “These things were obviously glued on—if you’re gonna do that, go big! Give it twenty antlers! Put up a plaque saying it grew a new set every year, ‘cept the last set never fell off.”

“Deer live ten years at best,” Ford pointed out, studying the buck as well. The glass eyes had an almost hypnotic quality despite being set into the eye sockets like the maker had just thrown them haphazardly and hoped they’d stick.

Stan shrugged, grinning. “So it was a half-immortal deer on top of the antler thing. Double the fun.”

Ford laughed in spite of himself.

The other two cars were similarly terrible. The second one, painted a suspect green, was filled with birds upon birds upon birds. Half of them were obviously pigeons painted to be other birds, the rest a collection of haggard birds of exotic nationalities that were surely the result of illegal animal smuggling. One of them was a charbroiled chicken carcass in a glass case that claimed to be the remains of a phoenix, a notion Ford spent a good long while ranting about as Stan came up with increasingly absurd ways for it to be a real phoenix corpse despite the fake nature of everything else.

The yellow-coated third car was the best in that it fully descended into the realm of absurdity. Animals had been butchered into pieces and sown back together into complete mishmashes of chimeras that strained the imagination and one’s sense of good taste. There was a wolf with hawk wings, a squirrel with a scorpion’s tail, a snake with what looked disturbingly like human teeth.

“I can’t believe this place hasn’t been shut down,” Ford said, wishing he could study those teeth in more detail. Were they human?

Unfortunately, even he had enough awareness to know you couldn’t go asking to please have the taxidermy snake in an exhibit to test its teeth. That might invite questions like, ‘how are you going to test if they’re human?’

“Shit, I can,” Stan said, examining a set of mice with insect wings stapled to their backs on a small table. “Pigs suck at their jobs, what do they care about some weirdo making monsters in the woods?”

“I suppose.”

It took them another twenty minutes of making fun of the stitching and poor attempts at musculature before they wandered back out, having thoroughly enjoyed themselves. They passed the teenage employee as they went, who made no attempt to hide the joint she was smoking. Ford suspected Stan was right on the money; no local authorities of any kind cared about this place.

Back in the car, Stan paused a moment in starting the car, pulling something out of his coat pockets. Ford let out a shout of surprise as Stan dumped a handful of the taxidermy fairy mice into his lap.

“Be quiet or she’s gonna get on our asses,” Stan said. “Anyway, here’s some mementos. Don’t thank me too hard, now.”

The grin on his face could only be described as shit-eating.

Ford burst into peals of laughter, trying not to let the mice fall into the foot-space of the passenger seat without actually touching them with his bare hands. “Stanley, I can’t believe you. These things are going to give me rabies.”

Stan snorted. “Y’can’t get rabies like that.” Doubt flickered on his face. “Can you?”

“No,” Ford admitted, unwilling to be wrong even for the bit. “But if anything could manage it, it’d be these awful things.”

The mice peered up at him with glassy, beady eyes. They seemed to beg for death despite being dead.

“You love ‘em. They’re exactly your type’a shit,” Stan said.

“They are not!”

Stanley started the car and peeled out of the parking lot before Ford could even think of returning the horrible mice to their resting place. He laughed at all of Ford’s furious spluttering, not in the least bit afraid or concerned about Ford’s ire.

And maybe there was a reason Ford relented so easily. He already knew where to put the awful things in his cabin.

-----------------------------

Adjusting to being in Ford’s house was… odd.

Part of it was that when Stan ever managed to picture where Ford was living, it was usually off in the city, doing important science stuff in important science places. Somewhere big and blocky and white, science-y and all. He had known that Ford was here from calls from his mom, but the reality never really settled in his mind as the truth.

The big cabin in woods a drive out from a small lumber town was not that. It didn’t fit the eager seventeen year old Stan remembered, so ready to be part of something huge and bustling. Something more than the slow, boring crawl of a tiny beach town.

But then, he couldn’t have imagined that twiggy version of his brother getting the shoulders and arms to successfully tackle him to the ground or the speed to sprint after him without getting winded. Couldn’t have imagined that Ford gleefully stealing a car.

He couldn’t have imagined that version of Ford looking so crushed at the thought of him being dead, either, so maybe it was a good thing he found Ford had changed from what he was. Besides, he was still completely Ford in all the ways that mattered, in the madcap enthusiasm and the grammarian ways and the rambling and the tapping of his fingers, which eased the sting of finding his twin had changed in his absence.

Actually being in the house also helped. It looked like a movie prop department for every mad scientist thriller ever made had exploded in the place, aka exactly what Stan would’ve imagined for Ford. After chasing the gnomes—the gnomes, what the fuck —out of the cabin and falling asleep on the floor for the first night, Ford had vaguely apologized for not cleaning up and then immediately got distracted trying to arrange jars filled with something on some shelving.

Stan wasn’t allowed to help on account of Ford having a specific organizational method in mind, which Stan had never been able to parse even after seventeen years of living with the guy. Mostly he ended up prodding at the anatomical skeleton Ford had in the house for some reason. Weren’t these things real bones?

It was here in this house that both was and wasn’t everything Stan imagined for Ford that a lot of things Stan had tried to avoid thinking about swam to the forefront.

“How many times did we repeat the week?” Stan found himself asking.

Ford stopped in place, staring off into the distance. It was the sort of concentrated look that Stan vaguely remembered, one that meant Ford was doing a lot of math in his head. Or that he felt nauseous and was trying not to upchuck onto his own shoes. It was a toss-up when they were kids; Ford’s stomach had been pretty weak.

“I believe it was at least several months worth,” he said. “Maybe even close to half a year.”

“No,” Stan said, on principle. It couldn’t have been half a year.

“There are only fifty-two weeks in a year. You found a lot of ways to kill yourself.”

There was a momentary silence. Stan regretted bringing it up; they’d been doing pretty damn good at leaving the fact that Stan had wanted to kill himself pretty badly to the one conversation in the Stanleymobile. He guessed that was on him for thinking he could get away with never talking about it again.

Abruptly, Ford said, “Ma was the one to tell me.”

“Oh, shit,” Stan said. “I thought you were lying about Ma calling you about me.”

Ford frowned. “Well, I was—she never called me to warn me you were suicidal, she called to tell me you were dead.”

“Shit,” Stan said again, with great feeling.

The look Ford gave him was half-way between confused and incredulous, and he supposed he deserved it. Ford had mentioned that before, hadn't he? That Stan's deaths kept getting to him in the end.

It wouldn’t be right to say Stan hadn’t thought his family would learn about his death; he had, especially in the beginning. He’d gone for a drifter’s death out where no one could find him until identification would be a waste.

At some point, though, that aspect had just… faded away. The impact of what he was doing didn’t feel real. It didn’t matter that he was dying, that others were learn that he had died. Hell, a couple times he’d gone for deaths that would make a scene, would maybe end up on the news if the news cycle had ever been allowed to get past Friday. Those would’ve certainly made it back to the rest of the Pines.

Stan had forgotten the fact that by leaving a body to be identified, his mom would learn that he had died. How he had died. That she’d have to ring up Ford and probably Shermie too to break the news.

He wanted to ask what their mom had sounded like relaying his death. He didn’t actually want to know.

Too bad, Ford was already speaking again. “It was her every time. Well, every time there was a phone call to receive; sometimes I’d go the whole week without one and I always wondered… oh, and our dad called once.”

“Pa?” Stan repeated. “Pa called?”

If what his mom had sounded like was something Stan didn’t want to imagine, what his dad had sounded like was something he couldn’t imagine. The concept of his father taking the time to call Ford and give the news just didn’t make sense.

Ford’s jaw tightened and he rearranged a few jars with unnecessary force. “Yes. It was when you—when you were murdered.”

“By old Gas Bag?”

His twin let out a sharp laugh, looking quite surprised at having done so. “Gas Bag?”

“He had a stupid last name!” Stanley said, gesturing defensively. “And he was a gas bag. Full of hot air.”

The fledgling smile on Ford’s face faded as he continued to survey his shelves. “Yes, the first time with him, I believe. Pa called, as he had been the one to confirm who you were. He usually was.”

Stanley didn’t know how to feel about that little tidbit. Wincingly, his mind flipped through some of his deaths like a receptionist flipping through her rolodex of phone numbers. Shot himself in the head, in the mouth, jumped, poisoned himself with cleaning supplies, lit himself on fire…

Very few of them ever left his body looking very…palatable. And while Stan’s relationship and opinion of his dad could be described as ‘complicated’ on the best of days, he wasn’t sure he wanted the old man to have to see him like that.

He stared at the anatomical skeleton some more. At least it ke[t Ma from seeing what was left of him. That was something.

Ford broke him out of his morbid reverie. “I’m going to punch him the next time I see him.”

“Who, Gas Bag?” Stan said, baffled. He was pretty sure they’d never meet again.

“No, Pa,” Ford said. “When he called, he—he had the gall to blame you for it, you know. That you were dead, that you were living the kind of life where someone might murder you. I remembered thinking for a second that he might regret it, you know, that he’d understand what he’d done, by the way he was acting—but it was your fault. Of course. It had to be your fault, not his. Not even your dead body could shake him of that.”

Ford’s voice was filled with a cold venom Stan had never heard before.

He tried to muster up much of a reaction to what Ford actually said, but he found himself oddly distant to it. Of course Pa made it all his fault again. That was an old pattern Stan had taken way too long to notice.

Maybe his dad did regret it. Maybe he didn’t. That version of his dad was as dead as Stan tried to make himself. He never really existed.

“Sounds like Pa,” Stan muttered, flicking the arm of the skeleton and watching it swing in response.

Ford’s expression contorted. He marched away, and left Stan wondering what was happening. His brother returned with several things: the mice Stan had purloined for him in a plastic bag they had mustered up at some point, a stack of post-it notes, and a marker. Ford wrote “CURSE PA NEXT OPPORTUNITY” and stuck it right on the doorframe to the storage room. Then he set about aggressively arranging the fairy-mice in the space on his shelves.

Stan did not find the post-it note weirdly heart-warming. He didn’t.

-----------------------------

Stan woke up with a start. For a long second, he didn’t recognize the ceiling above him, and his heart seized in his chest—where was the water-damage pattern of the motel room he spent months getting used to?

The fact that it was dark wood above him threw him even more. Most places he ended up in while sleeping didn’t involve homey cabin interiors. More bare concrete and plaster and maybe some dried blood or vomit no one bothered to clean up.

His gaze swung around the room. Then he really almost had a heart-attack, because Moses, there was someone standing in the frame of the doorway, the light shining behind them blocking out all detail until they were a shadowy silhouette.

Stanley nearly got his hands on the lamp on the bedside table before his brain caught up to everything and his eyes adjusted to the light to make out the other person’s face. The motel, yes, the loops and the many deaths of Stanley Pines, and then, suddenly and miraculously, his last death and Ford dragging him back to his house in Backwater, Oregon.

It was just Ford. Just Ford, standing in his— his! That was novel—bedroom’s doorway in the perfect way to look like he was about to murder the hell out of Stan. Classic Sixer. His knack for menacing would be applaudable if he could actually do it on purpose.

As Ford stood there in the dark like a creep, he looked steadily at Stan and said: “Stanley, I want you to know that if you ever change your mind and actually manage to kill yourself, I’m going to kill myself right after. Just so you’re aware.”

A hysterical bark of laughter burst out of Stan before he could help it. Whatever he’d expected Ford to say, it wasn’t that. The laughter was swiftly followed by a, “Stanford, holy shit.”

“I’m being completely sincere,” Ford clarified. “Ideally, I’d just resurrect you somehow, but if that doesn’t work I’m coming after you.”

The worst thing was that Stan believed him without a doubt. Man, they were fucked up.

“Fuck’s sake, Pollux,” he infused the nickname with as much sarcasm as he could manage, “I’m not killing myself. Not today, not tomorrow, not in the next eighty years. Please get out of my room.”

Ford sighed like Stan was being the weird one here. But he did leave, departing with an unnecessary flourish of the bathrobe he was wearing for some reason.

“I would do it!” Ford called one more time as he shut the door.

Stan sighed and looked up at the dark wood of the ceiling, the house creaking slightly with Ford’s movements back to his own room..

He was the happiest he’d ever been in his life.

#gravity falls #fanfic #my writing #stan pines #ford pines #idk what else to tag. enjoy!

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luimagines · 8 months ago

Note

Since requests are open... may we perhaps have the Chain with an SO who's really into astronomy and space? Just the biggest star and planet nerd to ever walk Hyrule.

(Totally not inspired by my own geeking out over how gorgeous the night sky is in TOTK, nope, not at all).

I'm going to have to do some research for this one. ^.^* But I'll do it for you, Nordic!!

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

The ship rocked softly back and forth on the seas, cradling the sleeping heroes as the moon gently draped the bedazzled sky with it's softer toned light.

Wind was still awake, as were you. Both of you were trying to keep the course of the ship on the right track.

Your lantern light was the closest thing you had for a light source to look at your maps and charts. You consider yourself lucky to have this on hand. Only Wind seemed as well versed in the stars as you were, hence the agreed upon decision to leave you both to your devices while everyone else went to sleep in the hammocks the small ship provided.

Wind was silent as he stood by the wheel.

You mapped out the course for the next island you were to make land, following your previous notes and comparing them to a map you had purchased before you had set sail.

A short sigh escaped your lips as you started to pack up. You couldn't keep doing this. Your eyes were strained and the moon made it difficult to see the needed stars for you figure out if you were going the right direction. You'll give it an hour or two- let the moon move further across the night sky and then start recharting what you needed.

"Going to bed?" Wind asked quietly.

You shook your head. "I'm tired, but I'm not going to leave you alone just yet."

An bitter chuckle tumbled from your lips as you stretched. Your spine and ribs popped and cracked from the needed release of strain. You saw Wind flinch but ignored it.

"If only it wasn't the full moon tonight. It would make this a lot easier."

"I can't even see the Farore Constellation." Wind sighed in despondent agreement. "I know these stars... but we're technically sailing over an island right now, so I doubt I'd actually be of much use as a navigator."

You snort. "That's why I'm up with you and not sleeping in the hull of the ship with the other guys."

There's no other sounds afterwards. There's a moment of stillness, save for the callings of the wind and the waves in their frequent call and response symphony.

"I've actually never been on a ship before." You admit, breaking the moment.

Wind jolts, almost as if he was startled awake. He tilts his head with a cheeky smile growing on his face. "Really? You're a natural at navigating. I never would have guessed."

That sets your frustrations at ease for a bit. You sit down against the railing, turning your body to talk to more experience sailor. "I just like looking at the stars for fun."

"Fun?" Wind gets a credulous look as he giggles. "I just knew the stories I was told as a kid. But I wouldn't say that comparing them to maps was fun."

"I know the stories too, sir and it's fun for me." You rolls your eyes playfully. "It just means we make a good team. I wouldn't be able to steer the ship for the life of me."

"You literally just turn the wheel left or right."

"I'd steer us right into a cliff face."

Wind giggles again.

"You actually know what you're doing but I actually know where we're going." You grin. "It works out."

"I guess so." Wind shrugs. "Better us than any of the others guys."

"They'd capsize the ship."

"Don't joke like that. Bad luck."

You smile. You don't necessarily believe in luck, but you've heard sailors to be the suspicious sort. You'll let him have this. "I retract my statement then. How far along are we following The Star of Demise?"

"About 15 knots, why?"

"Change coarse to sail towards Nayru's Trident." You grin. "We'll hit land fall by morning."

"Perfect."

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #i apologies if this wasn't what you wanted ^.^*#I didn't intend to leave only Wind awake either #but Davy Jones with the fan lyrics started playing and it stuck #i totally wanted reader to geek out more #and that *did not* happen

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bussyyeukie · 5 months ago

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Call of the Sea

(poly!141x siren!reader)

The seas were not evil; not rough and dark as the stories made it to be. Water crashing in a white mess against creaking hulls, dragging helpless souls and flailing arms. People say it’s dangerous, ugly, to not go out there. You’ll rarely come back if you don’t respect the power of the waves lapping up against the ship. The tide pulls at your knees until you’re suddenly to your hips, then your chest, and the cold sting sinks into you until your lips are blue and your lungs burn as the current pulls you.

The sea was beautiful, it was home to many creatures. Life giving creatures. Its waters reflected light, shining golden, shining blue, green, pink, orange. It’s lull carrying you on the surface, floating gently until it gifts you back to the shore. Many made their living from the sea. Many lived their whole lives dependent on the kindness it gifted to them.

You didn’t have a choice, not that you minded. All you could see was the beauty of the ocean. Even the beauty in the death it would bring, completing the cycle and inviting room for new life to start. Your home was the sea, and you’d never known any different.

Born from the frothy foam of the white wash, the crash of the ocean waves. Your lullaby, the sun that dried the drops on your face a forbidden fruit, the feel of warm earth and the absence of the waters cradle holding you a forgotten longing.

Your sister's songs resting on the water's surface. Your own song is a mix of the melody.

You remember laying on the rocks, with the moon's light basking over your skin, shining opalescent, hair fanning out across the rock, ends dipping back into the calm water. You remember laughing with your sisters, giggles bursting from throats and silly stories passed around as silken hands ran through damp hair. Placing bands of metal and shells into the braids littering your locks.

You remembered the first time you heard of the dangers of some humans.

The ones who were stronger than you, the ones who weren’t as swayed by the haunting songs rolling off your tongues. The ones who hurt, the ones who killed. Caught you up in nets and spears, committing horrific acts, chopping tails and hair, drying scales and collecting tears. As a child, it made you wary of approaching the surface, opting out of games and laying low in the darkness of the oceans depths. The older you got, the less afraid you became, being assured that you and your sisters were safe, too far from shore or populated ports to cause panic. It was rare to hear of a killing recently as well. Every once in a while someone would go missing, but there were never sights of ships, or rogue sailors to blame.

The older you got, the stronger you got. Teeth sharper, your tail gaining a more distinct pattern, the shine glowing brighter under the moon, your sound growing smoother and less banshee like.

With that came confidence. You’d approach the surface with your sisters, breaching water, wrapping your arms around the railings of small fishing boats, round luminescent eyes shining in the moon, hair sticking to wet skin. Voice soft and rolled over like fog into the ears of the sailors.

You no longer feared humans. Almost foolishly.

Growing reckless in your approach to stray boats.

Not realizing that, at times, those dangerous humans were trickier than yourself.

Floating in the water, the dawn barely creeping up on the horizon, you watched the dark shadow of the hull sit on the surface. It wasn’t necessarily a large boat, in fact, the closer you got you realized it was fit for about five people at most. It had been a minute since you’d eaten, stomach rolling as you thought of the previous two weeks, dinnerless. It wasn’t that bad though, you really didn’t need to eat as often as a human, but the lack of substantial food didn’t help.

Your hair swayed around you, pushing it from your line of sight, you pursed your lips as you watched the shadow rock. Really you should’ve thought it through a little more, called someone over with you. Better yet, went along, swam by, left it be. But you didn’t. You were hungry.

Snapping your tail, you approached the underside of the boat, nose almost touching the wood. The water is warmer up there compared to the depths beneath you. Tail tucked under you, the water wasn’t clear, nowhere near it, but you didn’t want to risk it over something stupid.

Face turned, licking your plump lips, ear pressing against the underside of the hull.

You heard some shifting, and a rock of the boat, footsteps, then the thunk of someone sitting. They sounded heavy. You felt a grin tug at your lips, muffled voices filling your ears. Sounded like three. Three was easy.

Flicking your tail, you rose, peeking up out of the water till your eyes blinked away droplets. It was foggy out, so thick you could just barely see five feet away. Catching a glimpse of the bearded man sitting in the boat, his voice thick as he spoke to the others in the boat. They hadn’t noticed you yet.

“Beautiful as the warm breeze,” the man laughed, mockingly, “As if waking up to a pile ‘a gold on ya’ pillow!”

Your hair stuck to your face as you emerged more, chin dipping in the water, hair fanned out around you. The hair on your face framing it, lips wet and cheeks flushed. Eyelashes clumped with water. Skin shiny and an almost hollowed look to your undereyes. You grinned.

“I’m tellin’ ya, it’s nonsense, the fact that he has our asses out here in the cold anyway it’s–”

You had peeked out a bit more, neck visible, pearlish pattering on your jaw and neck glinting in certain lights. Catching the man's eye. He jerked violently to the side, grasping wildly behind him.

“Bloody hell!’

The boat rocked and you sank down, acting spooked as you hid to your eyes again. Wide and gazing up at the man. Glancing over to the other two men in the boat. Who looked to you as well, snapping to attention as they moved as far back on their seats as possible.

The water rippled.

“What the fuck,” the bearded man’s jaw was agape, brows knit close together. He was older than the other two. Hard to tell by how much, his face was well sea worn.

“Get it!” One of the other men shouted, his hands trembling as he jolted for something on the bottom of the boat. Your eyes widened as you ducked down more, tail flicking under the boat.

A quick hand grabbed the man who reached. The older man was still in shock, trying to push himself as far back as possible, brows knit tightly together.

You looked to the side, a younger boy was sitting there, lips chapped and cracked, tanned face and hat wedged on his head. Curled hair sticking out of it.

“Wait! Wait…” he turned to you, eyes wide, he was thin, very lean, and not very tall.

The other man, who had thin hair, and a potbelly, looked at the boy in shock.

“Boy, let go of me–!”

“Hold on a second!” he snapped, looking from you to the pot-bellied man, “Look at ‘er…”

The three looked to you, you breached the water again, to your chin.

“Hello,” you whispered, voice silken and carried across the water and into the boat. You watched the three men’s shoulders drop, eyes wide as they watched you.

“Hello…” the young man licked his lips, swallowing roughly, “What are you doing? O-out here?”

The bearded man grunted, “What the bloody hell do you think she’s doin’ out here! She’s a mermaid!”

You giggled.

The three men looked at you. Boat creaking as it rocked.

“Mermaids?” you preened, moving closer slowly, till your hands creeped up the sides of the hull, gripping it as you crossed your arms, leaning on it, the men moving back as you moved forward, “How silly, to believe in fairytales like that? Isn’t it?”

The younger man laughed nervously, “Y-yeah, very silly.”

You tilted your head, wet hair sticking to the smooth skin of your back and shoulders.

Seemingly glowing under the light, dawn still far off as it creeped.

“Y-you,” the pot-bellied man gulped, “You’re tricking us, I know it! You are!”

“I am? That wouldn’t be very nice of me,” you giggled, tail swishing and flicking under the dark ripples.

“He, cap’n told us remember, he told us it would do this,” the pot-bellied man said again.

The young man smacking him in the arm, “Watch your tongue! She has a name!”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that then?” the bearded man spat, leaning forward to frown, then jolting back when he realized he’d gotten so close to you.

The young man stuttered, then turned to you. Your smiled broadening, sweetly, a subtle hum starting at the back of your throat, matching the tune of the lapping of the waves brought to the side of the little fishing boat.

If you’d thought about it a little more, or at all really. You would have left at the mention of a captain, the three men in a fishing boat in the middle of the ocean. It was strange.

But you didn’t.

The three men turned to you.

The young one leaning forward a bit, getting to a knee in front of you, you grinned at him.

“Yes?”

“D-do, do you have one?” he gulped, hands twitchy on his thighs, “A name I mean?”

“Of course I do,” the subtle note still ringing through the air as you spoke, carrying through your words, “My name is Y/N, why wouldn’t I have a name?”

The men seemed lost, the bearded one having relaxed into his seat. The young one mere inches from your face.

He chuckled, “I, I don’t know.”

“What’s your name?” you reached out, tender and slow, water droplets rolling off skin onto the fabric of his pants, he closed his eyes, leaning into your hand as you pushed it forward. Your fingers twitched.

Your cold fingertips brushed his cheek before a large hand grabbed your wrist, and the boy was flung back, eliciting a violent thrash of your tail and a screech from you. Brows furrowing and lips curled.

“Get the net now!”

You went to pull your arm back, if fate had been on your side, you would have pulled him under. Tipped the boat. But, fate seemed to be holding something over your head at the moment. As the pot bellied man jumped to his feet and grabbed a bundle of netting. You thrashed, the large man with the beard fighting you, pulling you up and you flailing and hissing.

Your teeth sharp as you barred them at him. Nails clawed and you dug into the cords of his forearm, scarlet blood dripping between your fingers, running down the slope of your forearm till it pooled and dripped at your elbow.

“Throw it! Now! Get her tail!”

Whipping your tail, trying to tip the boat the best you could, the man almost expertly threw the netting, the young man still sat flat on his ass.

The bearded man grabbed a handful of your hair, as if trying to rip it from your scalp.

Snarling as he shouted, “The knife! Spear! Anything!”

The young man looked between the large man standing and you, your tail thrashing violently and your screams and slitted eyes. Net getting tangled up on itself, and unfortunately wrapping around yourself.

“No!” you howled, teeth gnashing, clenching your fist, tearing flesh from the man holding you. Your back arching as he ripped at your hair, squeezing his hand tightly, your wrist aching and popping.

“Don’t mess it up! Cap’n wants a pretty one remember,” the pot-bellied man said, rather snarkily.

“For what?” the boy on the floor asked.

“Knife boy, now!”

The bearded man had spit flying from his lips as he shouted, the boat rocking. Your tail cramping, and shrill screams escaping your throat. The young man jumping to his feet and the sound of clanking drew your attention, watching him sift through a pile of spears and knives at the bottom of the boat. A cold chill running up the back of your spine, wrapping around your jaw and up your face.

“Enough! Stop!’ you cried, the pot-bellied man trying to yank the netting up your tail, scraping off a few scales, which flicked out and smacked his side, causing him to slam to his ass in the boat, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

You tried to shake the netting from yourself, but the young boy popped back up with a spear, sharp and chipped at the end. The handle two feet as he held it up.

You screamed, piercing as he brought it down, sinking into the meat of your tail, above the joint. White pain searing through you and your stomach cramped. Lips pulled over your teeth, the bearded man barking something, and the young boy ripped the spear out, a pouring of dark blood streaming from the deep wound. Throbbing and scalding with pain.

The pot-bellied man grabbed the side of the boat as he spat curses at you more, getting himself to his feet, jerking the rest of the netting back up your tail. Up over your hips. The bearded man pried your hand away from his arm, spitting at you as his blood coated your hand.

“Stupid bitch, you’ll be in for it soon enough…”

The pot-bellied man reached for his hip, pulling a horn looking instrument, and blew on it, a low, sharp sound escaping it. Causing you to wince, flinching your tail, which erupted in pain. The young man looked at you, and jabbed at your tail again with some knife by his side, slicing it again. A cry escaping your throat.

“Enough of that, we need ‘er in one piece aye?”

“Yeah, right” the boy looked at you, the bearded man pulling the netting over your head as he slammed you into the boat, your arms curling into your chest, and protecting your face, hair splayed out messily, tail curled in. The bearded man's feet by your head.

He leaned down over you, “One wrong move, and I stomp that pretty face in.”

You hissed at him, blinking wildly, clenching your fists.

The man tisked, “All that bark for what?”

You bit your tongue, holding off the slurry of insults you were about to throw at him, the threats, the promises of his demise. But, you were the one in the net, on the floor of a boat, injured.

The pot bellied man blew the horn again, and sat down next to your tail, which was over the bench, and over the side of the boat, just barely dipping into the water. The cold of it was inviting compared to the cold of the fog that covered the morning.

Your chest rose fast with breaths, sounding almost labored as the dark blood sank into the indents of your scales on your tail.

The balding man clapped the young man on the back, “wow what a sight! Knew they were real, christ, thing sure is less scary than the stories.”

The young man didn’t tear his eyes away from you, eyes frantic like a caged dog.

“What do you do with them again?”

The man shrugged, “Up to the cap’n, whoever can name the best price. Think he was plannin’ to keep this one in one piece this time, sell it whole.”

He elbowed the boy and laughed, snorting as he did. The sound grated at you.

How could you let this happen, be so foolish, so reckless. Thoughtless!

You felt the boat rock more, snapping your head around to see what was coming. The creaking sound of a big ship soaking into your ears. The feel of a hand grabbing your hair registered too late, not being able to fight it off before the meaty hand raised your head and slammed it back down against the boat's hull. Pain swarming your vision.

“You best keep quiet,” the bearded face made its way into your vision, before he stood, almost directly over you, wrapping some cloth around his forearm, which was near mangled.

You frowned, closing your eyes and flicking the tip of your tail, the water rippling under it, feeling the cold against you. Looking down, the young man had his head in his hands, gripping the knife tightly, your blood dripping off of it and onto his shoes. Almost mesmerized. The pot-bellied man was looking off in the distance, a wicked grin on his face, hooking the horn back onto his belt. Catching a glimpse of the insignia burned into the side of it, it was something you hadn’t seen before.

The bearded man said something to the pot-bellied man, who glanced down at you, sneering. You didn’t listen. Instead, you shot your hand through the netting, grabbing a death grip on the bearded man's waistband, and slapped your tail harder than you ever had in your life. Pulling the man down with you.

“Hey-rotted–!”

Before anyone could balance, you had flipped the boat. Sending all four of you crashing into the dark waters. Bubbles and irritated water rising around you all. Still wrapped in the netting, and bleeding from your tail, you looked around. The young man was struggling to grasp a hold of the flipped boat, weapons sinking slowly into the dark under you. The pot-bellied man sank. Struggling and large bubbles of air rising out of him as he got lower and lower. A silent scream etched onto his face.

The bearded man made one swipe at you, but you pushed yourself out of the way, crying shrilly, and snapping away. Watching him grasp at the overturned boat as well, as you dashed down.

Darker into the depths, the salt water stinging, and your head ringing. You rasped, as you swam, not sparing a look behind you as you fought with the netting, and failing. Getting it tangled more with yourself. The cold of the water surrounding you more than it ever had. It felt almost…uncomfortable. Not as cradling as it had been, but almost heavy, it felt like you were swimming through dense seaweed.

Your breath rang loud in the stillness of the water, the netting falling from you finally, sinking down. Your body cramping, as you spared one look behind, seeing the trail of blood left in your wake. Too much, it was too much blood. Unknowingly swimming sluggish, and sinking down.

word count: 3018

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ghost-in-cyberspace · 4 months ago

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The Pleiades

Astronomy Facts

The Pleiades, also known as the Seven Sisters or Messier 45 (M45) is an asterism, or star group of an open star cluster containing young B-type stars that formed in the last 100 million years just above the shoulder of Taurus the bull constellation.

It's on average about 444 light years away from Earth. That means the light in this photo left the star cluster in 1581. It's also the nearest Messier object to Earth. It's the most obvious star cluster visible to the naked eye.

In Ancient Times

They were one of the first stars mentions in literature, appearing in Chinese Annuals in 2350bc. The Nebra sky disc found in Germany has these stars displayed with the Sun and Moon, this disc was made in the 1600BC. Sailors used them for navigation, as the “Plein” in their name literally means “To sail” in Ancient Greek. Farmers used them as a marker for when to sow and harvest crops, since they appear in the autumn, being a winter Asterism. The Zuni tribe of New Mexico called them “seed stars” and when the stars disappeared in the spring they sowed their crops. Other cultures believed they seeded the planet and were the seven mothers of Earth, (hey Hemidal of the Aesir in Norse Mythology had nine mothers).

In ancient times the Pleiades played a role in establishing many calendars.

In ancient India, in the Atharvaveda (the knowledge store house of Antharvanas, the procedures for everyday life, the fourth Veda and part of the Vedic scriptures of Hinduism) the Pleiades have the name Kttika, which meant the cuttings or those that mark the break of the year.

The Stories

The Pleiades are a very visible star cluster and because of that and because it's close to the ecliptic (the line of the sun's passage in the night sky or the zodiac line) and it's seasonal appearance makes it a great source of stories, folklore and myths.

Nearly all of them say they're 7 sisters and usually explain why they see 6 stars.

North Africa

The Tuareg Berbers, a semi nomadic ethnic group from North Africa (mainly the Sahara) call the Pleiades Cat ihed meaning Daughters of Night. Their proverb (translated into English) is: “When the Daughters of Night fall, I wake looking for my goatskin bag to drink. When they rise, I wake looking for cloth/clothes to wear”

This means that when the Pleiades sink below the horizon at spring, Summer is coming, and in the desert will be getting hot and drier, and they rise in the Autumn and that is when the rainy season starts, so start dressing warmer.

Native American

Wyoming- Kiowa tribe

In Wyoming, North America stands Mateo Tipi or Devil’s Tower. Legend is that one day the tribe was going south, and a bear attacked a group of seven girls. They climbed the rock and asked the Great Spirit for help. The Great Spirit made the rock grow taller and the bears kept clawing and scraping it away, so the rock grew taller still. Until the little girls were high in the sky and became stars.

Greek Myth

I'm ending on this one as it ties to a winter cconstellation. Also we often use the Greek names in astronomy.

The Pleiades in Greek mythology are daughters of Pleione and Oceanid and the Titan Atlas.

The sisters names are:

· Maia (mother/ nurse/ great one) who was the mother of Hermes

· Electra who was the mother of Dardanus and Iasion by Zeus

· Taygete mother of Laceaemon by Zeus

· Alcyone (ally) the mother of Hyrieus, Hyperenor, Aethusa, Hyperes, Anthas and Epopeus by Poseidon

· Celaeno mother of Lycus, Nycteus, Eurypylus and Euphemus by Poseidon

· Sterope (Asterope) (star) mother of King Oenomaus by Ares (some stories say she's Oenomaus wife)

· Merope the youngest who married Sisyphus.

Merope is the lost sister as her star is the last to have been mapped by Astronomers and is the faintest star, invisible to the naked eye. In the stories she's lost either because she married a mortal, or because she married Sisyphus who was punished in the underworld for both murdering his guests and repeatedly literally escaping from death . His punishment is to roll a stone up a hill forever. Either way Merope faded away. In other versions the lost sister is Electra, whose son was the King of Troy and she faded when Troy fell.

In one version of their story, the Pleiades were grief stricken at either their father Atlas who was punished after the Titan's war with the Olympians by being forced to hold up the heavens , or the fate of their sisters the Hyades and killed themselves. Zeus changed them into stars.

Another version that ties to the constellation of Orion is that after Atlas was imprisoned Orion began to relentlessly pursue the Pleiades. They were companions of Artemis who asked her father Zeus to protect them. Zeus changed them into doves then stars. Artemis was then angry that she lost her companions so her brother Apollo created a Scorpion that killed Orion. Orion then was changed into a constellation and so was the Scorpion (Scorpio) and Orion continues to pursue the Pleiades in the sky, and he in turn is chased off the sky by Scorpio.

#astronomy #writing #research #mythology and folklore

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yinyangswings · 2 years ago

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If Sanji Had A Child

He is over the moon when Chopper gives you and him the news. That man is practically jumping for joy.

Actually he does jump for joy

He practically gives up smoking overnight for you. It does make him a bit more irritable around the crew. Zoro especially.

But he never snaps at you no matter how irritated he feels. Even when you feel slightly guilty over him having to give up a habit for you.

Has a slight pregnancy kink, not going to lie. He loves watching you and staring at your belly as it grows and is almost always rubbing it.

Granted, barring others on the crew, if some random passerby tries to touch your stomach, they’re going to get a face full of foot

Is always willing to make you whatever concoction your cravings come up with and eat it with you if need be. Doesn't matter the time of the day or night. And trust me, you try to keep your craving requests to a minimum because you don’t want to be a bother him, which he quickly refutes, saying he doesn’t mind

Feels slightly self-conscious when walking around towns and sees all the skinny and pretty women that Sanji would typically chase after, especially when you get on in the later months and it is fairly obvious that you’re pregnant

You keep expecting to find him somewhere with one of these women. And you can’t blame him if he does

When he finds out about your fears (through a very irate Nami who filled him in on it), he feels upset that he’s made you self conscious about your appearance and is quick to pull you close and reassure you over and over again that you’re beautiful and he only has his eyes set on you

That night, he makes sure you know you’re the only one he wants

Ironically, your water breaks when you’re eating some of his dishes. You hadn’t been feeling the greatest that day, and you wanted some small snack. One bite and then your water has broken

That night, the crew learns that you can curse just as bad as a sailor, and even make up some new curse words along the way all aimed at Sanji for putting you through this.

It’s several long hours before a different cry fills the air and your little daughter comes screaming into the world. You stare at her with awe and love and you cannot imagine a baby more perfect.

Sanji is just…stunned, watching as Robin helps Chopper with cleaning the baby girl.

And then she’s in his arms and it's as if the world has grown still and he can’t breathe all of a sudden. She’s tiny, red, wrinkly and she has the chubbiest cheeks, and he can see a tuft of blonde adorning her head.

Her hands are soft, and her tiny fist can barely wrap around one finger.

And he falls head over heels for this little girl and is a weeping mess as he takes her in. You find it cute and just watch them bond as you relax and recuperate

She is never far from him for the first few months. He doesn’t want to miss anything his little princess is doing. Usually you find her with him in a sling on his chest, babbling loudly at him as he replies with responses. She’s apparently his biggest fan, and biggest critic when it comes to food. He offers her some things to taste.

He makes all her baby food. None of that pre-made, canned stuff.

As with during your pregnancy, he is never smoking around her.

And his little princess is spoiled by him.

Cue some teasing about what will happen when she’s older and boys begin to catch her eye. Sanji gets very…protective at that moment and firmly states she won’t be dating any time soon.

He pointedly ignores everyone mentioning his flirting with women

Sometimes at night, Sanji wakes up and finds you feeding her and he just watches. Not in a creepy perverted kind of way, just silently watching the two of you. And his mind wanders and he wonders how his father could have looked at his siblings and made them into monsters. How he considered doing the same with him had his mother not intervened.

And he thanks his mother over and over again in his mind for giving him this chance to have his small family and to cherish you and your little girl.

Those nights he holds you close, watching his precious little girl safe and asleep now happy with a belly full of food.

A few months later Zeff and the crew in Baratie receive a simple letter with pictures of the baby. There is a loud cheer heard throughout the ship.

Zeff may or may not have them tacked up on the wall.

Sanji receives a letter from Zeff with some small recipe suggestions and the request for more pictures in the future.

And Sanji happily obliges.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece headcanons #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #jamfics

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gloomy-prince · 1 year ago

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SUPER OLD RAINBOW! ART THREAD!!! Open only if you are brave enough to face teen me's cringe art...

(mostly joking but fr white Mimi and skinny Boo jumpscare below)

Very first digital piece of Boo and Mimi circa 2011!! I was 14 when I drew this. Usually I'm able to look back fondly at super old art of mine but this one does make me cringe a liiiiittle bit. Mimi girl what are you wearing, why are you white. Boo also had pink eyes in the beginning, which she would continue to have for several years to come (even in the current iteration of RAINBOW! they were pink at first, I later recolored those pages) but it was only later that it was due to the color scheme of the comic and not because they were literally pink. I'm pretty sure they were meant to be contacts, because their hair is and always have been dyed rather than anime-esque natural colorful hair, so that was some crazy dedication from Boo back in the day.

More 2011 art showing off Mimi's goth/scene-ish style and green eyes. They were initially meant to have pastel and neon fashion senses, respectively. The story was already named at this point, only a few days or maybe weeks into its inception, which is impressive considering it has taken us literal years to name other stories (I'm looking at you, Phantom Pains)

this one is from super early 2012! Interesting to think that this was less than 9 months later since it feels completely different to me. The first version of the comic had started at this point, and the pink and green color scheme was just starting to develop. This lineup features some characters that would later be cut. Lucian and Lily were friends of Boo, and Cecilia was Mimi's ex girlfriend. Notably Clarice is not on this lineup, and frankly I'm not sure why.

A picture I drew to commemorate 50 fans on RAINBOW!'s smackjeeves page, mid 2012. Boo's outfit resembled a recolored version of her 2011 outfit, but I have no idea what Mimi is wearing. What. are. you. wearing.

Chibi-ish drawings of Boo and Mimi cosplaying various characters, from early 2013. Homura Mimi is very funny to me, I really don't know why I didn't draw her as Kyoko. I assume I was trying to keep them as paired characters, but I didn't do that with the Sailor Moon or Disney ones, so I who knows why I did it with PMMM. Mimi's hairstyle changes to a shaved cut somewhere around this time, but it is much more dramatic than her current undercut, and her hair is still pretty long. Boo is wearing a closet cosplay of Fluttershy that I myself wore once. These also resemble the chibi-ish drawings on the chapter intermission pages of RAINBOW! Vol 1.

A character study I did in late 2013, which would be shortly after I made a major style shift into the art style that would eventually develop into the one I currently have. At this point, Boo was meant to be fatter than Mimi, but the execution wasn't really there at all. There is also a doodle at the bottom of me and Sunny at the time (I am the one with long hair), expressing thanks for 300 fans on smackjeeves. Considering it had 50 in mid 2012, the readership was pretty slow growing back then.

outfit exploration for Mimi, circa 2014. At this point I started to expand the color scheme a little bit more so that not every character would be paper-white, though she is still very pale even though she is no longer meant to be white anymore. None of these outfits really resemble her current style, and I don't particularly like any of them either. It took me a very long time to settle on a fashion sense for her.

an Adventure Time-eqsue drawing of Mimi and Boo that I actually drew less than two weeks after the previous image despite the difference in things such as the way the hair was drawn. I had to include this one because it blew up overnight, which was a huge deal for highschool me, I remember checking my phone at school a lot because it was just getting hundreds or even thousands of notes over the span of the day. I think it has something like 16,000 notes. Still the post with the highest number of notes I have by far, so I guess I peaked in high school, whomp whomp

More fashion exploration, this time of Mimi and Boo, from early 2015. The color scheme is starting to approach what it currently is, but much more dull since I used to be afraid of bright colors. Mimi's fashion sense is starting to get closer to what it currently is, but the pastel goth influence that was popular in early-mid 2010s tumblr is apparent. In chapter 1, Boo wears an outfit that is extremely similar to the one with the bear shirt, except it's a rabbit instead. The dress that Mimi gives to Boo is also almost identical to the depiction of it here. This drawing implies that Mimi was originally going to be present in the film noir scene where Boo finds her mom, which is interesting...

Another cast lineup! This one is from late 2015-early 2016. Mimi is wearing an outfit pretty similar to what she wears in chapter 1 but with the colors altered. The execution of Boo's body type is starting to improve but she's still kind of pear-shaped. Mimi is also a little more square, and her hair finally looks like the style she has now. Clarice gets to be in the lineup this time and she is SUPER tall. I think she is still taller than Milo. And Mimi is around 5'7"-5'8", so Clarice must be around 6 foot by that logic.

The original version of chibi-ish Boo riding a bike in her Kiki outfit, from 2016. I think it was meant to be a banner of some kind, possibly for tapas or tumblr. A newer version of this drawing features as a chapter intermission drawing in the physical book.

The original cover for RAINBOW! from 2017. The color scheme is finally starting to get a little brighter! This is actually a redraw of an older drawing from 2014, I want to draw it again someday. Also, I was going by Rain at the time.

A drawing I did in late 2017 for a class in which we were meant to try digital painting and I went for a very simple approach. I like that Mimi's legs are a little noodle-y. This is also the first drawing where Mimi's eyes are no longer green, but dark pink instead. By the language of RAINBOW!'s color scheme, that means they are brown. Boo's eyes are still pink, however.

Another drawing for a class, this time from 2018. I can't remember the specifics of the assignment, but I used the opportunity to draw the playground and Max, the dog, for the first time. I like the way the trees look in this. That little snip of hair by Mimi's ear also made a reappearance here for some reason.

The original version of the drawing that would become the cover of RAINBOW! Vol 1, from mid 2019! I believe I drew it to be a banner on Tapas, but I used it for tumblr as well.

And lastly, Boo and Mimi outfit sheets from 2019-2020. I messed with them for a while, hence the timeframe. Boo's eyes are finally green, which I changed since I liked the idea of Mimi having green hair and pink eyes, and Boo having pink hair and green eyes, as if they are reflected a bit in each other. Outside of RAINBOW!'s color scheme, Boo's eyes are actually blue though. It took about a decade, but I finally settled on a fashion sense for Mimi.

BONUS ART!!! 💖💖✨✨ I thought these would be better grouped together rather than chronologically with the rest.

RAINBOW!'s banners from its era on smackjeeves! Smackjeeves didn't have square/circular icons but rather these thin long banners which could also be animated. I thought that was so fun, so I always animated them at least a little, even though one doesn't seem to work. It was customary to write girls love/boys love on the banner of mlm/wlw romance stories then, so almost all of them say that. I still see that trend on some comics on webtoon and tapas nowadays. They are from 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, and 2017. I don't believe the 2017 one was ever used.

And RAINBOW!'s icon throughout the years! I always refused to change it, only update it, because I thought it was really cute. They are from (approximately) 2017, 2018, 2020, and 2021.

And finally, art from 2021 of Mimi with her cousin August, who will be the protagonist of our next comic, Phantom Pains. Weird to think that we'll be on that comic in foreseeable future, since it is also over 10 years old now. Bit of a passing the torch type drawing to end on. 💕 If you made it all the way here, thanks for reading! Hopefully it was fun and didn't hurt your eyes.

#rainbow!#rainbow #webcomic #webtoon #tapas comic #lgbt #lgbtq #wlw #lesbian #lgbt webcomic #queer webcomic

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kitsuvio · 5 months ago

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· ୨୧ · · Yan!hybrid octopus

W/c : 720

A/N ┊ HI! It's my first thingy here auahauah I hope you like my fic. By the way the octopus is a human on top and octopus at the bottom (；´_ゝ`) don't think I made him all octopus. By the wayyy this is heavily based off of the little mermaid ！！(゜ロ゜ノ)ノ NYAHAHAHA also kisses from kitsuvio

PAIRING ┊ Yan!hybrid octopus x you (afab)

TW ┊ Kidnapping, mentions of kids, yandere content!

You were just a little mermaid who was fascinated by the land above. You saw countless ships pass by, and you'd see sailors, buccaneers, and pirates all having fun and drinking their rum. You pondered on how the land above would feel…

While you were in your little reverie about how the land would be; Then you saw a dark and smoky cloud above the water, feeling curious you swam up to the surface to see a burning ship despite the flames, the frigid air from the night made you shiver. The crackling fire raged throughout the ship as it spread quickly. You saw a man struggling to get off the boat as it soon got engulfed in flames… Throughout the wrecked ship and smoke, you managed to save the man who fell from the ship. You brought him up to the surface, far away from the rubble.

Once you had successfully dragged him onto the shore, his body was lying down on the sand. A small flutter invaded your heart and you soon came to grow fond of the man; before you didn't know the consequences you'd face for this silly crush, you had a miniature understanding of the land above and how love worked. When he started to wake up, you dived back into the water, not wanting to be seen by him yet.

Many moons had passed then; your heart still aches for the man. Yearning to be with him on the shore and profess your love. So you desperately tried seeking help, someone who could bring your wildest dream come true you came across a well-known wizard of the sea. With desperation, you visited the mysterious cave where this supposed wizard resided. With hesitation, you swam through the cave; as the light became evanescence to you, it got even more eerie.

This octopus wizard coupled himself up inside his art gallery and painted mosaics and murals whenever he had free time. But he was most known for his potionology and spells…

“H-hello? Is anyone here?”

Your voice echoed throughout the cave; this might've just been a scam, or perhaps whoever was living here didn't want your presence. Then, a large tentacle poked out from a small room in the cave. Suddenly, the cave illuminated. It no longer felt so eerie but majestic in a way.

Unlike the other merfolk, he was a monstrous octopus. Cursed with having eight tentacles instead of a beautiful tail. But when he saw you just swim in here and not even freak out about his tentacles, it made him feel butterflies in his stomach.

“mmh… w-whaddya want?” Internally, he was quite shy but tried to be professional since you were still a customer.

He was heartbroken and devastated once he figured out you were trying to get on land so you could have your happily ever after with a man. He gave you what you sought, a pair of nice legs. In exchange, you had to give up your voice. It was a hefty price to pay, but he wanted to make this challenge impossible… So he added something else, you must marry the man before sundown then you'd be rewarded with legs forever and retrieve your voice.

He wasn't going to let you succeed, no way! The little octopus brewed up a plan and watched you from afar as you tried mingling with the prince. He tried not to look as much because it made him act out. That scum didn't deserve you… oh how desperate he was to have your scales; if he couldn't have them, perhaps his future children would. They'd be a sort of hybrid of a mermaid and octopus.

As expected, you were going to fail. He tried to deceive your crush into liking someone else. A lighthouse girl, the man was completely convinced that she saved him that day, which left you as a heartbroken mermaid.

The sly octopus observed as you were left in defeat, watching your lover marry another maiden; it had already been a week, and the sun had set. Without a voice to call for help the, the octopus saw an opportunity and took you back into the ocean with his slimy tentacle while making sure to let you breathe. He was already planning his honeymoon with you, maybe beside the beach with a few mer-kids running around or two.

@kitsuvio

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diejager · 1 year ago

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Hii just read ur Saccharine and Monstrosity stuff and it was really good! I was wondering if you could do one where reader gets super sick from having not felt sunlight in forever

Cw: DARKFIC, kidnapping, sickness, pregnancy, tell me if I missed any.

He watched you grow weary, your once vibrant skin ashen and your gleaming eyes dull. You looked sick and pale, the lushness in you that König loved and cherished slowly drained, the liveliness and sunshine in you drowned by the darkness of his bioluminecent cave. He craved the lightness in your tone, the energy in your struggle to rebel against the decisions he made for the betterment of you and the beautiful shine that you brought to his lonely home.

He wanted to protect you, to cherish and provide for you. All König wanted, in his cold, undying heart, was to love you the way a creature like him could, but all he did was snuff out the light in you. You were sick because of him, dying from the lack of sun in the darkest pit of his side of the ocean, the abyss of his domain where he ruled with an iron fist and commanded without hesitation. He told himself what he was doing was best for you, he had eons of knowledge and experience of the dangers of life.

His arrogance and pride showed in his patronising words, more self-assuring than to reassure you, to remind himself that every decision of his were made for you. Yet all he saw were the consequences of his acts, the saddening truth of reality striking him in the face when he came back from a hunt to find you gasping and whimpering, your tail swaying and curling into yourself in your unconscious state. It scared him to death, seeing his pregnant mate laying on the floor in a mess of agony and sickness.

Your kind depended on sunlight, the freedom to bathe and lay under it’s warm embrace whenever it shone brightly over the sea. You were a creature of beauty and light, legends whispered by sailors and venerated by women, precious creatures that the creator loved like he loved you, protecting and affectionate. Unlike him, who was a being of darkness and madness, feared by men in all form and idolised by madmen for the share of power he gifted to those who bowed to him at the altar.

He should have known, the dichotomy between you were far to wide to be shrunken, that you could live in the same environment as he did without suffering from the lack of sunlight. Perhaps he could give you a taste of warmth, something other than the cool abyss and his freezing body. He could watch while you bathed in the sun, a arm wrapped around the tip of your tail, keeping you within reach of him, but he despised the sun, it burned him and dried his skin, the light shining a being of chaos like him.

He didn’t fear any other God or the creators like the sun, moon and chaos, but he hated how they affected him, how his body involuntarily reacted to their presence. And he hated the thought of your beauty attracting other creatures, vying for your luscious hair and silky skin, the gem-like shine of your reflective scales and your fragile fins. He didn’t want to share you with any other being, but if it meant healing you, watching you get better before his eyes and support the clutch in your womb, he’s willing to suffer all that if it’d help.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @0-ramen-0 @dreamdiaries777 @under-the-dirt @ajadell @danielle143 @bubbletae7 @mushroompasta @skystreamchan @notspiders @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @lilpothoscuttings @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig cod #eldritch!konig #Eldritch!könig #Eldritch horror #mermaid!reader #tw: kidnapping #tw: dark content #dark content #dead dove do not eat

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hashtagloveloses · 2 years ago

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if you know me, you know that i love sailor moon. i love it more than a normal person, i know almost everything there is to know about it. it has been with me at every stage of my life so far, been a part of who i have become each step of the way. as the final sailor moon movie comes out, covering the stars arc, i’ve been thinking about its overall message. if you know the overall story, it is a space opera, of cyclical war between light and dark, creation and chaos. and in the final arc, a very far future version of sailor moon herself comes back into the past to try and convince her past self to end it all before the cycle gets worse. she idolizes her past self, eternal sailor moon, her powerful yet still teenage self. and young sailor moon still refuses to destroy it all, the whole cycle, because life is worthwhile, even with darkness and sadness. she convinces her future self not to regret her past choices, and inspires her to keep going.

reading that as a teen was impactful, but rereading it now, and viewing it whenever i can see the new movies, i understood, maybe, where naoko takeuchi was coming from. to write a whole series rejoicing in the difficulties, the joys, and the power of being a teenage girl, and to end it with that girl comforting and inspiring her future adult self, being reminded not to regret who she was and what she valued.

there are so many times that i wish i could go back and change certain things i did that would’ve changed my whole life trajectory and saved me from some hardships i feel like now i cannot escape. i want to go back and talk to younger me and guide her and protect her. but when i read sailor moon, i think that maybe she would remind me i was enough. i made the right choices with what i had at the time. i was powerful then and i am powerful now. i was enough then and i am enough now. i didn’t lose her potential, and her talent. she got me where i am today, she is here with me, just like eternal sailor moon is to sailor cosmos. and i think that’s a message a lot of people need sometimes as we grow up and compare ourselves to our younger selves.

#sailor moon #sailor moon cosmos #sailor stars #eternal sailor moon #usagi tsukino #just some thoughts i had #original post

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alevolpe · 4 months ago

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Hi, I hope you’ve been doing well!

I love your art and interpretations of the characters, especially in regard to your ideas about each senshi’s fuku design. I was wondering if you had any particular opinions on the official Classic, Super, and Eternal forms? Anything like design elements of the fuku to even the colors for each senshi? Apologies if you’ve been asked something like this, I just really enjoy your thoughtful responses you give in your asks.

Thank you so much! Means a lot.

I don’t have a lot of opinions on the forms past the Classic forms, I don’t hate them, but I just feel a bit.. indifferent. I know people like them, but I don’t tend to think about power-up forms very often, I just love the base forms too much.

Regarding if I have any problems with them, yeah. They do tend to fall a bit under the redesign upgrade problem a lot of shows and even games characters have. When trying to freshen up a design, a lot of them tend to trip over themselves and just take “redesign” as “over design” aka add more shit or overcomplicate shit.

Now Sailor moon does NOT have too much of that, overall the upgraded designs are not too bad. Not my favs, but not bad.

Let’s take a look at them shall we. (For the sake of brevity I’ll just keep this discussion on Sailor Moon’s design and not the other senshi. Mostly cause she gets changes the most and secondly cause their changes are not as prominent)

I LOOOVE Sailor Moon’s original design, her classic fuku is Classic for a reason. The deep navy blue and magenta red fit her so well and they help make the blonde of her hair, tiara and smalldecorative moons pop.

Her silhouette is very simple, it has a very nice flow with her hair being the only long element, allowing for fluidity but most importantly clarity. Her nice soft hair buns, bangs and lack of sharp angles in her uniform work amazingly through shape language (made a post about it here) to make a comforting and friendly appearance.

Also small note but I adore how her bangs and tiara come together to form a quite subtle but present heart shape. (She’s so cute)

Now her Super form is honestly.. pretty good! Doesn’t beat the original, but I like the direction. The stronger incorporation of white ties nicely to the element of her becoming queen in the future, adorning a white gown. The splashes of color on the skirt are also a nice touch, reminds on of bleeding soft watercolor runnning down a blank page, fits with her butterfly theme too (this part makes sense in my head, hopefully u get it).

Now to the not so good part, the shape.. she’s so sharp. It’s NOT a dealbreaker, I think it could work with the theme of her growing more into her role as Sailor Moon, gaining confidence and thus allowing herself to appear a lil more dangerous, but still soft. It’s important that the sharp angles present in her uniform do not interfere with the hair shape, the buns are still there, as soft as ever.

And now to her Eternal form. I don’t hate it, but I don’t like it either. Weirdly enough my main problem with it is not what seems to bother everyone else, the bubble sleeves, but the colors. I don’t like the colors. The blonde of her hair is now mixed in her skirt, the classic soft magenta red is turned into sharp deep red, the color of her bubble sleeves is really distracting cause it’s the only pink element present and the skirt triple layer ending up of the darkest color does not allow the eye to slide off it to the shoes easily (unlike say if it was darkest color to lightest from top to bottom, instead of the opposite).

The color reversal on the shoes is not a deal breaker either, again that “white taking over” theme is nice, but it’s like.. broken. Her skirt is back to being colored more than before so the thematic washing of the colors is undone in this form, instead taken over by a various assortment of bold colors.

I also think that the angel theme was slightly overdone, the 2 pairs wings on her back pair with the wings on her broach are just a bit too much for me and overcomplicate the simplicity of her broach. It’s like, do you get she’s an angel yet?! Here, have another pair of wings!

Lastly, it rlly bums me to see her nice simple silhouette being muddled by the wings, even though I don’t hate the wings themselves. Just what they do to her silhouette.

Overall I think I tend to have more problems with the uniforms than most people cause they do follow a theme that most people LIKE in sailor moon, which is a regular average girl becoming something larger than life, but idk.. the original uniform just gives off that vibe of the friendly down to earth girl who everyone knows in town. It brings a sense of unity and space in a way, cause it feels more urban, while the other uniforms start incorporating more and more abstract themes which, to me, take a bit away from the flawed but relatable comfort of this messy, imperfect, but trying her best Usagi Tsukino who’s wearing a uniform to help the people she loves around her.

#ask me stuff #sailor moon #ty for the ask <3 #srry for the wait #Redesigns are tough #Design talk #IM NOT AN EXPERT IN CHARACTER DESIGN DONT HOLD MY OPINIONS AS NOTHING MORE THAN THAT

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