#something something devil fruits and the powers and the curses they provide

[giurochedadomani]

So Mihawk is Persephone and Shanks is Hades in the way, Shanks is the one who falls first, and 'tricks' Mihawk into spending time with him or takes him away.

Mihawk, who is overburdened with possible suitors and overbearing parents, then meets Shanks and is "Yes this fool is the key to my freedom' and then 'oh shit I love this fool'

This interpretation is???? So magnificent????? I love this so much???? That would make Shanks into some sort of Davy Jones character, maybe? To keep the creepy sea legend vibes

And Mihawk entering the deal with Shanks thinking that he has the upper hand and then he's been sailing for six months in the creepy red force ship and seeing the world and being the happiest he's been in his whole life. And what do you mean that he has to go back? That he only agreed to go for six months?

[softrozene]

Sea Stone Effect Headcanons

Anonymous asked: Heey there I hope you have a nice day💕 Sooo I have been binge reading OP hcs and scenarios and wondered what Kid, Law and Katakuri would be like with an s/o who has been experimented on as a child and now touching them has the same effect as sea stone on DF users and they feel bad being around them as it weakens them. It can be hc or scenario, whatever you prefer😊

m.m

Here you go, anon! So sorry it took so long! I hope you enjoy this because I definitely thought your request was interesting!!

Katakuri, Kid, Law x Reader (Gender-Neutral/Nonbinary)

Warnings: A smidge of angst, fluff

Words: ~750

-

Charlotte Katakuri:

I think Katakuri would be the one who wouldn’t mind your situation the most. Mainly because this man is a giant so he already is pretty power with height/weight wise but upon finding out his significant other when touching him makes him feel like he touched sea stone – he is a bit disappointed

However, when he sees that this is making you upset and feeling guilty that he feels weakness when you touch him, he is quick to reassure you that he wants you to touch him and if he didn’t he wouldn’t let you

Only because I imagine he would be really affectionate with his partner, so this definitely cuts into being intimate with them but he will have his moments where he does not mind at all since he can rely on his other family members if things go wrong.

However, when he finds out you were experimented on when you were younger – oh god – all hell breaks loose – he is livid. Who the hell in their right minds would do that? And tbh he really does feel for you since he was bullied for his mouth when he was younger

So if you ever want to talk about it, he is all ears, or if you wish to expose who did the experimenting he could go on a journey for a bit to make sure they are gone forever

Either way, there is no real problem with his significant other having that effect on him. He will find a way to live with it and make sure you are happy

If you so desire it, he will be willing to see if Big Mom will be willing to find a good scientist to see if they can reverse the effects of the experimenting done on you, otherwise if not, he just cares about your well-being.

He may definitely have you go touch one of his siblings when they annoy him though haha

 Eustass Kid:

Kid at first is annoyed from finding out about your condition

The annoyance disappears immediately when he sees how guilty you feel for having touch him and him getting weak due to the effects of your sea stone “curse”

While he may get irritated and angry at times for having the energy zapped from him whether it was on accident or because he just really wanted to hold you and forgot about it, he does try to control his temper since he understands it isn’t your fault

And with that, he is absolutely livid that you were experimented on as a child to be turned into a weapon against devil fruit users

If he ever finds out who did it… well good luck to them

Depending on how determined he can get with this issue, he may find a doctor for you to see if they can help you or anything

And in worst case scenario if he really gets sick of it, the relationship would end up going goodbye : (

Though I don’t see that happening since he cares about his crew and I imagine he would care about his partner in a way that nobody would think would be possible

So despite the setbacks this would provide he makes sure to know that any irritation he has is definitely not your fault… though he may take his anger out on other people lol

Trafalgar Law:

Law is a very… interesting man lol. He would find your situation rather interesting the second he found out about it

However, upon seeing the immediate guilt on your face for making him have a moment of weakness, he knows that this is much worse for you and he wonders who the hell made you feel guilty for something that is not in your control

When you opt to tell him about your past he is horrified that you were experimented on as a child and his inner doctor wants to help

With your permission he would love to see if he can try to reverse it, while his powers are meant for sickness and fatal injuries, he could try and dive into the scientific side for you and he would be very confident in doing so

Have faith in him : )

Lol but in the case you don’t want him to reverse or he can’t, he would just be very reassuring to you that when you touch him and the sea stone effects get to him, it is not your fault and he does not mind one bit as long as it’s preferably not in public

[prince-kallisto]

Kallisto TWST Theories Masterlist

Return to Main Masterlist (Headcanons, Analysis, Fanfiction)

Although this differs slightly from my Analysis Masterlist, my analyses may provide more context to the below theories, especially in regards to Crowley’s character, so feel free to check those out too! ^_^

Princess Leia, Henrik & Dawn Knight Theory

Crowley’s Proud, Beautiful Flower of Evil

Levan’s Overblot and Phantom Grim

EGGS (and why it may be Crowley’s biggest clue)

A Clever Hawk (or Crow) hides their talons: AKA sus Crowley

How does Crowley fly?

Guest Room and Crowley hiding something in there

Crowley & Mickey: Phantom Blots plan

Solving the Dwarves Mine and Purposeful Overblot

Isle of Sages: Crowley vs Ambrose ideals

Beauty can drive one to madness

Direbeast and Dire Crowley: Grim and Crowley’s eyes

Crowley’s Magical Aura and Fae Magic

Overblots, Rollo, and Crowley (Truth behind NRC)

Dire Crowley and Idia: Curses and Blot

Mirrors, Crystals, and Water Basins

Housewarden and Headmage staffs & magic pens

Rook and Crowley’s Parallels (IT CHANGES EVERYTHING)

Silver’s curse & Draconia family

Phantom Vocal Mimicry and birds

Crowley’s prophetic powers and Raven symbolism

Fae Crowley and the Chairman

Anniversary Animation Mysterious Hallway

Lost in the Book with Stitch Library Book mystery

Crowley’s relationship with the Asim’s

Ramshackle Dorm and 90 years ago

Ramshackle Gravestones

Overblot Fire, Souls, and Curses manifesting

End of the TWST world: A Deal with the Devil

Crowley, Grim, and Dark Mirror: Manifestation Link

TWST World Curse: Sleeping Beauty and Malenoa

Book 6 Groups foreshadowing Crowley’s secrets

Book 7 Phantom Blot Enemies, glass jar, and TWST opening

Revan’s Unique Magic: Gift of Prophecy and how Crowley knows everything

Identical Briar Valley and NRC locations

Dark Mirror OB markings and Meleanor’s soul trapped in the mirror

Meleanor’s “Princess glow” staff and the Dark Mirror

Complete Guide to the “Crowley is Levan” theory

Grim and Dinah: A Forced Magical Fusion

NRC School Barrier: Ghosts, Chenya, and Grim

NRC Coffin Gates and Epel’s Unique Magic

Vil, Meleanor, and the Virgin Mary: Crowley’s Obsession

Silver Owls and Dire Crowley’s Mask

Magic Mirror vs Dark Mirror (Red Blot and the Mirrors Missing Gemstone)

Crowley and Levan: Twins or? (Reblog)

NRC lack of history on Fae

Crowley and Levan: Treasured Items and Plans

Malleus expelled from NRC and the birdcage

Why does Crowley remember STYX?

Rollo and Crowley’s Crimson Flowers and Plans

Book 4, It’s a Deal, and Crowley: Jamil’s Revenge

How Crowley sets up the Overblots in each book

Crowley: The False Prophet and the Unholy Trinity

Dire Crowley Magician Tarot

Levan: Dragon, Long, of Raven?

Spectral Soirée: Time Zones and November 2nd

Ghost Camera: Connection between Dreams and Reality

Cradle Tower Incubator & Dark Mirror Chamber

Lilia’s Lie: Carriages, Planes, & Land of the Red Dragons

Crowley’s Political Connections and Briar Valley (reblogged from Ventique)

Floating Coffins & Floating Portraits

Neige’s Unique Magic

Crowley’s Realm Dominance and Mirror Dimensions: A Piece of my World

The Twisted Storyteller of TWST (part 2 to above theory)

Is Levan in the Dark Mirror?

Crowley is Neige’s Father (meme but also Actual Neige Backstory theory)

TWSTs Manga Promotional Video speculation

Crowley’s “Magic Assault Practice” class

Crowley’s Curious Eating Habits and the Significance of Soup

Crowley’s Gibier (A Follow-up to the Soup Theory)

Peppers are a Vegetable…(A Follow Follow up to Soup Theory)

STYX experiment: Levan

Crowley’s Void Magic and Connection to Malleus

Dire Crowley: The Serpent and the “gift” of the Forbidden Fruit

Magic Assault event and Crowley’s HP & Power

Magic Assault Practice & Styx’s Lachesis System

A Soldier’s Habits & Mirror Gemstones (Ask)

Crowley’s Connections to the Ghosts and Underworld (& the Transmutation potion)

“Don’t be shy about striking me” Parallels between Crowley, Malleus, and Meleanor

Mâlum, Mālum, Malus, and Malleus (Crowley’s Apple Tree theme)

A crow’s Multilayered Hues and Malleus’ Egg

Levan vs the Knight of Dawn: The Whip of Love

Malleus and Crowley’s Curse Immunity, and the cause of Malleus’ “CPU overload”

Crowley’s Magical Aura in NRC

The Origins of Malleus’ Masquerade Outfit (he’s wearing his father’s outfit)

Time Loop and the Dark Mirror

Rising Coffins and the shaking chandelier

6 coffins and Malleus’ rising (Ask)

Location of the Princess Glow & Malleus’ resurrection

Who Carried us back to Ramshackle at the end of Book 5? (Crowley)

Playful Land and Crowley’s Extraordinaire

Vil, Draconia’s, Dawn Knight color inversion

Masquerade Masks and Identity

Dragon ‘Eye’ Duke and Crowley’s mask

Invitations, Locks, Bubbles (it’s all circling back?!)

Dream!Vil, Crowley, and Eric Venue (crack Eggvil theory)

A Masks Burden and the Color of Nobility

Mirrors in Twisted Wonderland and the ‘Other Side’

Spectral Soirée’s Mirror Pendants: Meleanor and Raverne

Knight of Dawn and Raverne: The cutting of Raverne’s wings

[quinloki]

More One Piece Kinks

Dubcon, Bondage, and Knifeplay, with

Zoro, Shanks, and Law

Oh. Oh man - okay, I'm going to break these down by kink instead of by character - so anyone who wants to skip dubon can just stop before they get to the end of the post. (there's plenty of warning notes preceding it.)

Bondage:

Zoro - This man is made for Shibari more than the more functional less decorative bondage, and the zen vibe and focus of shibari is something he enjoys too. I feel like bondage tends to turn more shibari for Zoro in any capacity. But the process is meditative and he really gets into it, like with sword forms, the basics are to be mastered first, and his knot-work is as refined as his swordplay. Bondage - Yes // Shibari - Oh god you don't even know.

Shanks - Giving or receiving, Shanks is a solid Yes for bondage. He can be a little reckless in receiving, but he'll happily guide/correct someone through the process. It's not that he has a passion for it, but he does have experience. His recklessness stems from the man's insane haki skills - if things go wrong Shanks can get out of anything with minimal effort, but he's very much 100% Safety Steps when tying someone else up.

Law - A rather not for receiving, and a Oh god you don't even know for giving. Law likes to be in control, and bondage provides that quite efficiently. That preference to be in control is mostly why he's not keen on being the one bound, but you might be able to convince him once or twice. Mostly though, if you're into it - and this is 100% fully functional no frills bondage - he's going to be all for it more than knot. Safety scissors nearby, but with his devil fruit power it's not much risk even pushing the riskier sides of the kink.

Knifeplay:

Zoro - Giving - yes, receiving, No. Zoro's control of blades is, well, legendary. So this is a niche right up his alley. Even with all his practice and skills, he's in between Sure and Yes, more toward yes. He's definitely got the kind of control that can keep you on edge (hehe), without things getting dangerous.

Shanks - Giving - Sure, receiving, Sure. There's not much Shanks won't do, or try. But again, in this case, it's really his control of his own skills that allow him to be comfortable with something like this. He knows he won't hurt you with his skills, and he's a strong guy, so even if there's a slip at worst he has a new scar. As far as foreplay or kinks though, there's more effective options when it comes to Shanks xD

Law - Giving Sure, Receiving - No. There is no enthusiasm in this with the good surgeon, but he's not against it. Law's more apt to want to try kinky things using his devil fruit to take you apart - not actually risking or purposefully cutting you. I imagine the whole fact that his sword is considered cursed, and he's not big on unnecessary harm, lend themselves toward this. The good news is, even if there isn't enthusiasm, if there's an accident, you're already in the hands of the best surgeon on the Grand Line, so there's a lot less risk.

Dubcon* (Giving Only):

*dubcon outside of fanfic is kind of a hard one to nail down, but I did my best. xD (I was like, how to do I talk about consent in a specifically dubious consent situation?)

One final note: If this isn't your kink, and you wouldn't ask it of your partner, then the next section just isn't for you <3 Skip it. Don't cry/bitch/whine to me ^_^

Zoro - This is a big No for Zoro. He's not an idiot, he's not incapable of nuance, but I feel like it's something that just sits a little raw in his craw. You can set up safe words with him, and beg him to stop and he'll manage to keep going, but that's clear consent within a set session and not quite the same thing.

Shanks - This is a Sure-to-Yes for Shanks. He's big on personal freedom and autonomy, but as long as you two sit down and talk through all the details, and come up with a safeword specific to those situations, he'll work with it. It certainly adds an interesting spice to your day to day life, being unsure of if, when, where, and how he'll initiate things. A few times he even leaves you unsatisfied, and it's hard to describe how hot it is.

Law - He starts as I dunno, but as time passes between you, and the relationship and trust grows, and you have a time or two where you really sit down and talk it out, he hits Sure. It's a "special occasions" sort of deal at that point, and you can probably count on your hands the number of times it's happened. There's always proper and thorough after care afterward.

Kinky One Piece Head Canon

[loveoaths]

@fightingdreamcrs / @resolutepath requested: plots please! [hands u muses from fightingdreamcrs or here!]

rubs my hands together. you got it boss.

jashin & shikadai.

there is something dark in the woods, and it knows your name: okay okay okay, LISTEN. i have had a headcanon for awhile now that jashin curses the nara clan after the death of hidan, one of their beloved dark priests and child of the faith. just as shikamaru targeted their child, jashin targets shikadai. their goal is to take him away from his father, be it through indoctrination, madness, or death; but they do not tell shikadai who they are, because they're playing the long game. this plot has the feeling of satan tempting jesus in the desert, of the devil going to down to georgia, of a crossroads demon facing a boy lost at a fork in the road. what i like about this idea is the concept of noble temptation and intellectual corruption.

jashin appeals to the logical part of shikadai's brain, while also slowly teasing out the more emotional parts of him he's never truly been able to express. shikadai is watching boruto, sarada, kawaki, and others face increasingly life-or-death situations; wouldn't he like the power of jashin to defeat his enemies? to protect his family? to save his father? doesn't he wish he could have the best of both worlds, and be a good son and shinobi, while also enjoying the forbidden fruit of life: ryogi, dissension, more freedom? being a noble son is hard. being a shinobi is hard. jashin can provide an outlet for that, or at least introduce the concept of more in a physical way. i'm rambling now, but charlie, just imagine all the nara boys shikadai's age getting sick one month; nothing totally life threatening, but one of them coughs up something black and sickly-sweet smelling, and something about it makes shikadai feel on edge. imagine him being troubled and going on a walk in the nara forest to clear his mind. imagine him noticing how quiet the deer are, how they're all avoiding a small copse where the trees are closer together and the air heavier with wet earth. imagine him smelling that sickly sweet smell again, and watching a young buck stagger unnaturally into the copse. he follows. kneels beside it as it draws its last breath, leaking black ooze from its nose and eyes. out of mercy, shikadai slits its throat to put it out of its misery and closes its eyes, lays it to the ground, and whispers a prayer. only for the stag to raise its head and look at him and say, "HOW SWEET YOUR MERCY, SON OF NARA." just imagine it, charlie. just. imagine.

shizuma & kagura.

we've discussed them so much and i hope we continue discusisng them forever, but i really want to know what would have happened if kagura had not been strong enough to stand up to shizuma during the kirigakure mission. is kagura regretfully the new mizukage with shizuma as both his bodyguard and the muscle to keep him in line?

additionally, what would a role swap look like with them, where kagura is the older one and shizuma is his ( rotten ) fan?

shizuma & shikadai.

i don't have anything specific for them, but i do think they'd be fascinating. shikadai is the stronger strategist by far, but shizuma is cunning the way an animal is, and is unpredictable. i think a scenario where the coup doesn't happen/hasn't happened yet and shizuma is sent to konoha to homestay with the naras would be chaotic in a very fun way. particularly because shikadai could learn a lot about large-scale army mobilizing from shizuma, who, for all his many faults, is a very gifted warrior and general-type. we'd have to figure out what their end goals are, but i think there is a fun nugget in here somewhere.

ryogi & kagura.

ah, the thief and the knight, together again! i love these two. you mentioned ryogi being able to separate kagura from the shinobi life, and i wholeheartedly agree. they could go on a journey together! or, after ryogi escapes konoha's prison, he realizes he at least needs to be as strong as shinobi to defeat them, and winds up in kirigakure learning under kagura. if ryogi has just been rejected by shikadai and kagura has just been heartbroken by the coup attempt, then these two very bitter/heartbroken boys could find some real comfort and community with each other. also, as a liar himself, ryogi could provide insight into shizuma's mind to help kagura grieve and get over his betrayal.

ryogi & shikadai.

we've talked about them so much, but i somehow have never mentioned a future verse where ryogi becomes the Lord of Whirlpools ( new uzushio )??? i imagine these two meeting again many years after their break-up, with shikadai as advisor to the hokage etc and ryogi as the young leader of a new village-state, to be fraught with tension... but also, a lot of growth and opportunities to re-meet each other. additional drama: shikadai is sent to uzushio on a mission to meet the new lord of whirlpools and is totally blindsided when he realizes it's ryogi. however, ryogi is using a fake identity and pretending not to recognize shikadai. shikadai thinks this is another one of ryogi's grifts gone too far, but the truth is there is a much bigger plot underway, and now shikadai has once again gotten himself caught in ryogi's storm.

haku & naruto.

my og otp from way back in the day... these two have a lot to learn from each other. haku has to learn how to see themself as a human being, and naruto needs to see that he is allowing himself to be used as a tool in the shinobi system. however all this learning happens subconciously as they become friends for real after haku relocates to konoha. i like to imagine that haku is one of naruto's early crushes, which gives all of their interactions a fun, rosy tint... lmk what you think. :eyes:

kimimaro & naruto.

okay this is my politics-loving brain talking here, but kimimaro and naruto are both brainwashed. kimimaro is brainwashed into believing orochimaru, and naruto is brainwashed into believing the will of fire. the truth is that both of these ideologies are very dangerous at their roots, and for naruto to reach his true potential as a paradigm-shifter he needs to understand that. these two are both too dumb to know they're brainwashed, but i think they'd see the other one as an idiot and would realize it that way. additionally, seeign how fucked up kimimaro is could lend naruto insight into how sasuke feels, which, no matter how much naruto believes he and sasuke are the same, he just doesn't have. by befriending kimimaro, naruto would be a better ally to and friend for sasuke. this taking place in shippuden would be choice.

tanjiro & haku.

i still need to write up haku's kny verse, but essentially they are from a tribe that found a way to control demons temporarily before they were destroyed by superstitious townsfolk and, potentially, other slayers. tanjiro could learn of this and seek haku out to try and find a way to cure nezuko. meanwhile, haku has their own goals... which i have not come up with yet... but that's a start? i don't care what we do i just want tanjiro. they are my baby now.

tanjiro & kimimaro.

i have zero plots for this but they seem like insane people who deserve to be locked into a room together. tanjiro is so nice and kimimaro is so Not Nice. i want to know if tanjiro can friend no jutsu kimimaro or if he will get beat to death with a bloody femur :)

zenitsu & haku.

same as above tbh except haku is nice to zenitsu while zenitsu is bonkers. alternate idea: haku is a demon? has demon blood? something strange like genya? but befriends genya, who dances between being freaked out to being delighted that someone pretty is giving him the time of day.

zenitsu & shizuma.

just because i'm mean, what if shizuma is a demon who loves the smell of fear, and since zenitsu is scared all the time, zenitsu winds up with a terrifying shark on his heels. this is an odd couple comedy duo waiting to happen.

[rosachaotic]

Amortentia (Talbott x Cereza)

(sorry for my bad English and idk if i will make a part 2 but here)

"What is inside that big cauldron?" Asked Cereza, staring at the giant cauldron that was in the middle of the classroom. She couldn’t see what it was from a distance, but she could see that it had a shiny pink liquid inside.

It is Valentine's Day at Hogwarts and teachers were giving students thematic classes related to the day as a way to celebrate, but still teach their students.

Cereza is now in potions class and to everyone's surprise even Snape prepared a special class for that day. The room had a couple of ravenclaw and hufflepuff students from the fifth year who were whispering about what the potions themed class would be like.

"I don't know, I can't really see what's in the cauldron from here, but I have a feeling that we will know now." Whispered Rowan who sat next to Cereza staring at professor Snape.

As soon as Snape stopped next to the cauldron, all the students got silent, paying attention to the class.

"Today we are going to study Love Potions, brews which manufacture infatuation." With those words, some of the students, including Rowan and Penny who was also in that class, opened their eyes wide, realizing what is really inside that cauldron. "Love potions are strictly prohibited at hogwarts. Unfortunately, Valentine's Day inspires the most foolish wizards and witches to experiment with such potions ..."

The students noticed a certain irritation in Snape's voice as he talked about the use of this potion.

"Which brings me to what's in that cauldron. Amortentia." Snape then turned his gaze to the cauldron, some students tried to peek into the cauldron still sitting in their seats.

"I don't expect any of you to know, but does anyone know the exact description of the love potion?"

Penny, who is sitting close to Cereza and Rowan, is obviously the first to raise her hand and Snape looked at her direction .

"Yes, Miss Haywood?"

"Amortentia is one of the most powerful and dangerous potions in the wizarding world. As powerful as it is, it cannot create or imitate true love. The person under the effect of this potion would only create an unhealthy obsession with its provider. Amortentia also has a different smell for each person, according to what or who attracts them. " Penny replied confidently.

"5 points for Hufflepuff." Penny smiles proudly when she hears these words come out of Snape's mouth, even though he didn't seem very happy or proud of his student. Snape continued with the class.

"Amortentia is extremely powerful, dangerous and must be continuously administered in order for the effect to be maintained. And those who are conceived under the influence of amortentia are cursed with the inability to love."

Cereza then raises her hand with a confused look on her face, Snape notices the young hufflepuff raising her hand.

"Yes, Miss Gomez?"

"Professor Snape, if this potion is so dangerous, why are we going to study?" Asks Cereza.

"It is exactly because it is dangerous that you will study. So that you can study its appearance and keep it in your memory. That way, you may recognize and avoid drinking the potion if someone offers it to you." Said Snape answering Cereza's question.

Cereza lowers her hand, letting Snape continue his class. She shivers with the thought that someone might try to offer something so dangerous for her on Valentine's Day, she will certainly be more careful before drinking anything today.

"Now you can approach the cauldron, carefully." The students were nervous and some were shocked to hear Snape's request, but they all got up from their seats and walked towards the cauldron.

Upon reaching the cauldron, Cereza could see the appearance of the potion properly but she also noticed the smell. Penny said it is different from person to person so the fragrance for Cereza was ... good.

The first thing she could smell reminded her of her old home, it is the fragrance of the field that brought back memories of her childhood. The second one is strawberry, her favorite fruit. The third one...

Cereza frowns as she tries to identify it, it is not bad but is odd. It is straw, she doesn't know how she knew it, but the smell of straw it is the same one from the owlery and also from…

Cereza then realizes who this smell is from and she feels her face heat up, she shook her head trying to ignore the strong odor coming from the potion and also tries to hide her face and nose in her scarf to hide her pink cheeks. She remembers what Penny said about amortentia also being not only from things but it could be also from someone they are attracted to and Cereza knew exactly from who that scent was from.

It is from Talbott, Talbott spends a lot of time in the owlery so it's normal for him to have that smel. Talbott is the lonely Ravenclaw with whom Cereza managed to get close after he helped her not only to become an animagus but also with her self-confidence with her eyes. The two are now best friends for a year and are very close to each other but she admits that during this time she started to develop romantic feelings for Talbott, but she doesn't want to ruin this friendship by a feeling that Talbott may not reciprocate so she just ignores this feeling.

Cereza looks to her side and realized that Penny or Rowan weren't with her, but the devil himself: Talbott winger.

She realizes Talbott is staring at the cauldron lost in his thoughts, he is taking deep and slowly breaths seeming to be trying to recognize aroma like the rest of the class.

He looks really focused.

"I wonder what the amortentia smells like for him." She thought while staring at the ravenclaw that is beside her.

Cereza then notices that Talbott's expression changed to a surprised expression. The young man's eyes widened, his mouth was slightly open and it was possible to see that even his ears were so red that it looked like smoke was going to come out of it.

"Talbott?" Whispered Cereza trying to get the boy's attention.

Talbott let out a gasp in surprise when he hears Cereza's voice beside him and looks at her. Cereza smiles kindly at him but she notices that his breathing is getting faster, his hands are shaking a little and his face turned redder than before. Concerned, Cereza got a little closer to him.

"Talbott are ok-" Before she could finish her sentence, Talbott quickly backed away from her and bumps into Penny who was beside him that made her look in his direction and notice what was going on.

But before Penny could ask what was wrong, Talbott walked past the students who were around them quickly and ran out of the classroom. Not even Snape managed stop him.

"Talbott wait!" Cereza tries to go after him, but she is stopped by Snape who closed the door on her with a spell before she could leave.

"Leave it, Gomez." Snape said in his dry voice.

"But-"

"I said, leave it."

Cereza sighs in defeat. She looks at Penny, who is worried about Talbott and then at Rowan who is lost in this whole situation. She approached the cauldron again and continued in class, but she kept thinking about what just happened and is worried for her friend but she couldn't do anything about it until the class ended.

After class was over, Cereza went looking for Talbott with Penny's help, but they didn't find him. It was as if he was hiding from everyone or maybe just from Cereza. They didn’t even find him in the owlery which was very odd.

"Maybe the amortentia made him feel sick…?" Cereza thought to herself.

[mamsellechosette24601]

In the Green vs the real Hildegard's writings and philosophy

Because of “In the Green”, I started reading a bit about Hildegard and her thinking so as to better explore the themes of the musical. I read the book “Hildegard of Bingen: A Spiritual Reader", by Carmen Acevedo Butcher, which was short and insightful, with lots of excerpts from Hildegard, so I’ll share what I got from it in relation to the musical.

1. The symbolism of the colour green and of the sun

"Hildegard called this vigor viriditas, the “green” energy of agape love pulsing through the entire universe. Over and over in her writings, she chooses viriditas to express God’s vitality and the ways His goodness and love charge the whole world with life, beauty, and renewal—literally, with “greenness.” Her unique, creative use of this Latin word makes it something of a neologism in her work. In Hildegard’s mind, viriditas was first found in the green of the garden of Eden, but it is also the green of whatever twig you or I happen to be looking at in this present moment, whoever we are, wherever we may be. She knew that the natural opposite of this “greening” energy was spiritual desiccation (including what we often call “depression”). But, like God’s mercy, His revitalizing viriditas has no limits. Wherever Hildegard looked, she saw that this “green” force animates every creature and plant on this planet with verdant divine love."

"The patriarchs and prophets who prefigured and predicted Christ were the “roots” of God’s divine tree, on which sprouted the most delicate “bud,” who is God’s Son, and from Him grew the “fruit” of the virtues: Humility, Charity, Divine Love, Patience, and their sisters. This is a favorite metaphor for Hildegard, and in her songs she praises the Virgin Mary as the “twig” or “branch” on which the “bud,” baby Jesus, flowered. By her intelligent selection of this one word, oculus, Hildegard has shown the center of her work—that to see God is to grow."

"In one of this volume’s poems praising Mary, “Grateful for the Unobtrusive Good,” Hildegard’s use of metaphors suggests that she saw no separation between symbol and fact. Metaphors were reality to her. Hildegard’s point in this song is that the divinely made sun giving earth life is also, in a mystical way, the life-giving Son of God who as the Word made creation’s every twig, including Mary, and yet was also Mary’s “Bloom”(…) In this song to Mary, the sun (also God’s Spirit) shines on the Virgin Mary, the “greenest twig.” She is a twig, not even a branch; but she is green with God’s pregnant vitality, and her comparative insignificance (as a woman, and unmarried) prepares her for the greatness of God’s Spirit to grow within her and produce the miraculous “flowering” of God’s divine-human Son. Her weakness is her strength, a recurring theme in Hildegard."

So, when Jutta sings “I can see the last of the light / Reflected in the green / Of everything”and we know what is going to happen, we’re supposed to cry at the distortion of life’s goodness

Sun Song gains a much more religious meaning, when we see everything that the sun and nature meant for Hildegard. In her “Book of Divine Works”, the Holy Spirit says: "I’m the divine flame of life, I burn above the golden fields, I sparkle on water, and I shine like the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Together with the loving, hidden power of the wind, I make everything come alive. Remember that I’m also Reason. I inform the wind of the first Word that created all things. I’m your breath, I’m the breath of all things, and none die because I am that Life." (should I read into In the Green’s “Air leaves my lungs/ I’m lying on my back / I’m staring at the sky / I open up my mouth but the air swallows my cry”? Jutta was forsaken by God, completely).

Death Ceremony, with its translation of “O Viridissima Virga”, introduces us to Jutta’s and Hildegard’s quest away from Eve’s curse and towards the Virgin Mary. The “little green branch” seeks the “branch of freshest green”, instead of rotting.

The idea of strength in weakness, which the Hildegards find in First Verb, appears, together with the aforementioned notions of the “green” and the “bud”, in Hildegard’s “Play of the Virtues”. "The virtues and the souls: 'When the world began, everything pulsed with life and was the tenderest shade of green.Flowers blossomed everywhere. But, after the Fall, everything green faded." The Warrior-of-Truth saw it all and said: 'I see what happened, but my house is not yet full. Look at me instead. I’m the image of your Father. Know my broken body broken for you. I’m exhausted. I’m tired of being made a laughing-stock. It goes straight through me. Even my followers lose heart. But remember this. The original abundance of green did not have to shrivel up, and your faith will see its way to strength, until you know the divinity of my jewel-covered body intimately, a gem in each injury, and each injury a bud. Look, Father! See my wounds? Now, let people everywhere kneel before God the Father, who’ll hand us strength on strength." 

2. Hildegard’s “Scivias”, where she first shares her divine visions vs Jutta

In “Scivias” Hildegard writes a metaphor of the sinning soul. Turning away from God and towards sin (the “North”), the soul speaks “I regret that so much now! For I was captured, robbed, blinded, and violated. My garment was torn. I was dragged to a gruesome place and subjected to the worst kind of slavery”.

Then the soul repents, and hides in a cave, like Jutta hid in the Undergound: “After I’d said this, I went down the narrow path and hid from the eyes of the North. I went into a tiny cave and wept because I’d lost my Mother Zion. I wept, too, for all my wounds. I wept for my sadness. I wept and wept. I cried so many tears, they absorbed my pain and bruises. Then I smelled something very sweet. It reminded me of my mother’s soft breath on my cheek. That small comfort made me cry some more. I was so full of joy that I cried until it shook the mountain of my cave." The crying out of joy that will force the soul out of the cave also kind of reminds me of The Ripening, especially in this connection to a mother’s love (“In living I have learned/ to love another as a mother/ And I’ve felt that love inside my wicked flesh”) but I may be reading too much into it.

The soul then is persecuted by her enemies, and we are told “Then I saw poisonous snakes, scorpions, and other hideous reptiles slithering towards me. The snakes were hissing. I screamed, “Mother! Where are you?! Help me!” I heard my mother say, “Run, daughter! The Omnipotent, Unconquerable Provider has given you wings. Fly! Fly over these things blocking your path!” And I did." Compare this to “I’m not going back / I’ll run until I die / And when I can no longer run / I’ll teach myself to fly / I try”. All in all, the world of Hildegard’s visions is far from the reality Jutta faced.

The soul faces self-doubt and recovers remembering it was created by God: “The Devil’s poison arrow is the evil robbing me of my spiritual joy. I don’t want to celebrate people or God. I doubt everything when I feel this way, including my salvation. But when God helps me remember that He created me, then—even in the middle of my depression—I tell the Devil, “I won’t give in to my fragile clay. I’ll fight you!” How? When my inner self decides to rebel against God, I’ll walk with wise patience over the marrow and blood of my body. I’ll be the lion defending himself from a snake, roaring and knocking it back into its hole.” It echoes Jutta’s advice to Hildegard in The Rule, but of course, she is not whole like she claims she is. (“When you are whole, you will be like me / When you are whole, you will move confidently / Through your life / And you will understand how the boulder becomes sand / And you will know how to not become sand / When you are whole, you will never be scared / When you are whole, you will always be prepared / For a dragon's attack! / And you will slay the beast..or scare him away at least / And you will never again be the least”)

3. In “The Play of the Virtues”, Hildegard focuses a lot on clothing, as a metaphor for the “wearing” of salvation, as something we’re born with and must keep clean. This enhances how soul shattering Jutta’s experience was, “His hand pulling at my skirt”.

4. Letter to the Belgian Monk Guibert (1175) and Light Undercover: "My spirit is ever illuminated by what I call the shadow of the living Light. It has no physical limitations whatsoever and is much brighter than a cloud through which the sun shines. I can never predict when or how I’ll see it. As water reflects the sun, the moon, and the stars, this shadow of the living Light reflects God’s Word, sermons, virtues, and the things that humans do. Whatever I see in that Light’s shadow stays in my mind for a long time, stored away. I see and understand, hear and know at the same time. I only know what I see in these visions, because I’m untaught. I record what I see and hear, without adding my own words, and my Latin is unrefined, because that’s how I hear it in my visions. I’ve not been taught to write like a philosopher. Also, my visions are filled with images and sounds that are nothing like words spoken by any human. They’re more like a blazing fire and a cloud floating through a clear sky. I can’t comprehend this Light’s shadow any better than I can look right at the sun. Also, sometimes in that shadow (but not very often) I see another light. This is the living Light I spoke of earlier. I’m even less able to explain what this Light is like in comparison to the other. But I can say that when I look at it, every feeling of sadness disappears, and my every ache leaves me. I’m no longer an old, sick woman. I become young again." “Light is in the dark”, strength is in weakness.

5. The entire play gains a deeper, metalinguistic meaning, when we learn that for Hildegard, “When we sing, we repossess some of the Eden lost when Adam fell”. (Letter to the Prelates at Mainz, 1178).

6. Becoming Whole

Hildegard’s visions in “The Book of Life’s Merits” and Underground"I saw a very tall man. His head and shoulders were above the highest clouds. His torso was in a white cloud below this, while his upper legs were in the earth’s atmosphere. From the knees down, he was planted in the earth, and his feet were rooted in the deepest waters of the abyss, which represent the virtues and their power. They are the antidotes to sin, because they have the might to make anything whole. They do this by cleansing whatever they touch and making it holy. They nurture and sustain the world, and they bear all things. Everything on earth steeps in the moisture of the virtues and is made strong, in the same way that the soul makes the body moist and healthy, regenerating it."

In contrast to Jutta’s teachings about the body, Hildegard finds more balance in her writings, as Butcher puts it “Hildegard understood the symbiotic relationship between body and soul. She knew that when the body and soul are not in sync, a person’s whole world is out of whack. While she believed that the physical body is easily wayward and must be controlled, she did not teach that the body is evil (…) Hildegard’s work also emphasizes taking care of the body, because it is the sacred temple of the Holy Spirit”. Against ideas of duality, Hildegard brings “God’s goodness and the essential wholeness of a divine creation that refuses to be separated into neat-but-useless categories of earth and spirit, body and soul, nature and people”.

[thesealovesme]

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆. ( repost, don’t reblog )

   basics

NAME: Maveric Unelanvhi NICKNAME: Mav, Mavvy, Dumb Mutt, Mavvy-poo, Sea Hobo, Old Man. AGE: Twenty Seven SPECIES: Nouryokusha - Zoan, Human -Tenryuubito.

   personal

MORALITY: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / grey / evil. RELIGION:  Worships the Sea God of the Grand Line. SINS: greed  /  gluttony  / sloth  / lust /  pride  /  envy  /  wrath. VIRTUES: chastity  /  charity  /  diligence  /  humility  /  kindness  /  patience  /  justice PRIMARY GOALS IN LIFE: To survive and live so as to prove his love to the sea for saving his life many years ago, possessed prior goals of protecting and guarding Zoen, and has many short term plans of providing companionship to various people. KNOWN  LANGUAGES:   Common tongue of the Grand Line, can speak the language of beasts.

   physical

BUILD: scrawny  /  bony  / slender /  fit /  athletic  /  curvy  /  herculean  /  pudgy  /  average. HEIGHT: 6′6′‘, 201cm. WEIGHT: Around 300lbs, about 136kg. SCARS  /  BIRTHMARKS: He’s covered in scars from the various injuries suffered on the prehistoric island he survived at a young age, ranging from lacerations from dinosaurs and dire wolves to burns from acidic toxins from hostile plantlife. His signature lip scar was gained from cutting his mouth open on Yarou’s spines after falling from the ship as a child, and was the first injury he had ever suffered in his life. Other scarring was likely gained just from being a stupid pirate. ABILITIES  /  POWERS: Extreme strength and durability, is in possession of the Okami Okami no Mi; Model: Dire Wolf, which gives the user the ability to transform into varying degrees of a massive warg. Maveric is also a master of Busoshoku Haki, to the point where he can even coat a very close living creature(Yarou) as one would their weapon. This mastery of Armament also allows him to coat his vocal chords in Haki, giving him his signature move ‘Hangman’s Howl’, which is akin to a destructive soundblast.   RESTRICTIONS: Seastone cancels out Devil Fruit capabilities, and Maveric is EXTREMELY susceptible to it, even getting tired merely from the smell. He cannot swim, and will be unconscious the moment he touches the ocean.  

   favorites

FOOD: Anything you can grill over an open fire. DRINK: Alcohol, he prefers the sweeter varieties, like rum, also floral teas. PIZZA  TOPPING: I can imagine he’d probably like something horrible like anchovies or pineapple. COLOR: Red, pink, and the color of wheat. MUSIC  GENRE: Shanties, classical, anything with vocal, and piano. BOOK GENRE: bitch can’t read MOVIE  GENRE: he doesn’t. know what movies are. SEASON: likes winter and autumn islands. CURSE  WORD: Fuck. SCENTS: Sea breezes, florals, sweet scents.

   fun stuff

BOTTOM  OR  TOP:   mostly tops, wouldn’t really care either way. SINGS  IN  THE  SHOWER: he’ll sing anywhere, he doesn’t have to be wet LIKES  PUNS: iF HE FUCKIN UNDERSTANDS THEM

TAGGED BY:  Grand larceny from myself TAGGING: @acherys​ @kanashii-na @maljefe @ryuukenshi @samsmulti (anyone! ) @tctidem (lulu!) @bucketfullofocs (anyone!) @logpcse (anyone!) @glxtzy​ AND ANYONE WHO SEES THIS!! please steal I want to see u _ u

[tekkai]

🅿 Here's your official pass to gush about headcanons for CP-9 (ft. your insert as well if you want)! Go wild!

Thank you Anon I love you for asking. I wasn’t able to go in depth for everyone so I focussed on the few my S/I is closest with. ;^; 

Lucci 

Lucci is an impossibly light sleeper and grows irritable due to his disrupted sleep schedule. He’s seldom able to sleep soundly through the night and attempts to recover by napping throughout the day. 

With the extremely specific and conscious exception of chicken, he is offended if you try to serve him any kind of fowl/poultry. He has a strong preference towards ‘red’ meats such as beef, lamb, and even game such as venison.

Obsession by Calvin Klein, or the closest in-universe alternative. In addition to bathing in Civetone, he carries the scent of brandy and sawdust. 

Hattori is more than a mascot, he is Lucci’s service animal. Most of his task serve to mitigate Lucci’s psychological needs. Among other tasks, ventriloquism is part of his work, as it allows Lucci to interact with new people in a roundabout way. Hattori can also ‘sweep’ rooms, alerting him to be certain a space is empty and easing his hypervigilance. Disrupting night terrors and providing sensory stimuli when his feeling overloaded. 

In canon we know they’ve been a team for at least 24 years. I would like to believe they’ve been together longer, prior to his arrival. I’ve thought a lot about a possible backstory for him, but we’ve been given so little in canon for me to work with it’s purely speculation. 

His father had been a no-name pirate. He left shortly after conception and the two never had any kind of relationship save for their genetics. Ironically he’d be killed by his son later in life. 

His mother was a lesser noble with a daughter from a previous marriage. As a baby he was close to his-sister,but he was so young when they died their memories are distorted. He blames the death of his family on the cowdarce of their appointed guard when their city was besieged. This is the root of his philosophy. 

Racing pigeons were an important culturally and Hattori is a descendant from his mother’s line of birds. 

Lucci is nearly legally blind. He is completely dependent on his contacts to get through the day. Caught without them however, not many people would be able to tell how much he struggles. He’s practiced in hiding his vulnerabilities and can get by without assistance by leveraging his other instincts, but he does struggle. The fact that his eye color changes significantly every time he appears is due to his colored lenses.  

Lucci was given the epithet of Massacre Weapon and conditioned to see himself as a tool. He holds himself to an impossible standard and values his worth based solely on his objective usefulness. 

He would never admit it to anyone, but he identifies with the local stray cats. Wherever he locates he makes a point to feed and look after the ferals in the area. He’s absolutely blown his cover once or twice confronting anyone stupid enough to harass a colony he’d been overlooking. 

Lucci honestly believes he’s working towards a more peaceful world. He does have a ravenous bloodlust, but if that was his only need, he’s strong enough to go rogue.  Lucci does not need his license to kill. The only reason he��s remained complaint to the WG’s needs is because they align with his own vision. 

Kaku

Kaku and Usopp both originated in the East Blue, have a natural affinity for working ships and are canonically mistaken for one another. I’m not about to claim a direct relation but I don’t think distant cousins would be out of the question or improbable. Kaku was an orphan taken in by WG and underwent intense programing to model him into the agent he is today. It would be reasonable to assume any record of his life before the government got a hold of him would be purged. I don’t think it’ll ever be a plot point but I just like this theory. 

Kaku may be the next young prodigy of the group, but he is also the designated baby/baby brother. As an unit it’s just universally accepted that he get’s a ‘pass’, especially in regards to Lucci. 

Ussop was able to antagonize Lucci twice after the the Leopard Man had brutalized others for less. It’s a subconscious reaction adn Lucci probably doesn’t even realize why his first instinct wasn’t to kill this pirate the moment he drew his weapon. 

He’s an effective agent but he get’s emotionally attached to places and people. Unlike Lucci who finds ideological satisfaction in his work, Kaku is loyal to CP9 due to his relationship with his colleagues. For this reason he’s a more efficient spy. 

Kaku has an aversion to alcohol. He’ll drink socially but only if it’s pushed on him.

An avid outdoorsmen. Kaku would spend everyday in the wilderness if he could get away with it. He has a secret cabin he escapes to and uses to decompress after an excessively stressful mision. 

Horses love him. Every since he was a child he’s been a natural with horses and no one can figure out why. They just instinctively adore him.

Jabra

Incredibly sensitive to chemical scents. He refuses to enter the laboratory for this very reason. 

I’ve touched on Zoan’s influencing their users in regards to Lucci before, and Jabra is no exception. Unlike Lucci however he’s happy to lean into his instincts and takes great pride in being a wolf. 

Makes really terrible dog puns. 

He prideful and arrogantly confident, but once his audience has left he’s painfully lonely. He craves a ‘pack’ and is hopeless romantic at heart. Has bounced from one failed relationship to another near constantly. 

He cares deeply about his fellow agents and views them as a kind of family.

He’s the first to throw insult or a playful jab, but the moment something is wrong he can tell. Jabra can be a jerk but he’s the best person to talk to if someone needs to vent or be comforted by. 

Claims it’s nonsense but he’s extremely superstitious. If Kalifa makes a comment about the stars aligning he makes note. 

Angel’s self proclaimed older brother.

He’s competitive to a fault. It doesn’t matter what the challenge is he needs to be the best. 

Found his Rooster as an abandoned chick and has been raising it ever since. He’s a proud father and carries photos of the bird when it can’t accompany him specifically so he can show his son off. This tactic has never once worked while he was trying to flirt with someone. 

Kalifa

She’s mildly allergic to animal fur. It’s nothing significant but she’s forced to carry allergy pills when she’s working with her Zoan colleagues. Her new abilities, however, have been a godsend in keeping the annoying fur at bay.  

More so than any of the other agents she struggles with feeling ‘good enough’. Having been born into her role she feels an immense pressure to live up to the expectation that were set for her.

Her mother was also a government agent at one point.

Collects ‘lamb’ themed objects. She doesn’t love having to be around actual farm animals (and despises Jabra’s rooster) but she finds the artistic representations of lambs aesthetically pleasing. 

Is secretly really into astrology. She’s complied full birth charts on her co-workers using what little information is available and reasonable estimating the unknowns. 

She is extensively musical trained and is by far the most talented agent in that regard. 

Angel

Not a Ciphor Pol agent. Not a government agent. Not even a marine. But since you were kind enough to include her, she’ll get a guest feature.

Angel was blessed with a powerful fruit but cursed with the lack of willpower to use it properly.

She can be friendly but it takes a long time before she can fully trust someone. 

Used the name Lucifer before settling down and trying to start a new life for herself.

She descended from the upper vearths and is confused when people down here talk about religion. To her “God” is an epithet you can earn and a position of power in the sky islands. She’d interacted with Enel and caught wind that he’d ascended and is thoroughly confused every time someone makes an offhand religious comment or sees an act of devotion, ‘cause god is kind of prick?’. She’s never commented on her confusion. When her wedding was planned to take place in a chapel she was horrified for reasons that weren’t clear to anyone else present.

Since that was the only part she had an objection to the planner in charge caved and re-scheduled the event to an outdoor venue.  

Terribly pyrophobic. Ironically the devil is not okay around an open flame. 

[letusmeetagain]

Applepie

It happens to be that apples are a polysemic symbol.

We have the golden apples of the greek mythology. The meanings as I said previously are vast and different depending on the specific context: immortality, vanity, fertility, knowledge, what's forbidden...

I wish @shizekarnstein engange here because this is her area (and I lowkey want to gently push her to write). I'm specifically aware about the meaning of the apple/fruit in the Bible... And I think Isayama wanted to rewrite on the base of the myth in the Genesis.

We know, and I'm paraphrasing what's on the commentary of that part in the Bible, Adam and Eve stay actually for the whole humanity. They eat a fruit from the three of knowledge despite God told them they would die if they eat the fruit of that tree. Sounds like the curse of Ymir, doesn't it? 😂

The point about the apple, and this is maybe the most known translation mistake, wasn't an apple. But that's something that got redeemed too late as it became part of the solid concept of the original sin. Paintings are just a proof of it.

Then the tree of knowledge provided the power to understand or discern between good and evil. Before that, humanity lived under the rule of God and didn't need to discern. With the fruit, they gained the power to choose on their own and be lords/ladies of their destiny.

It means: power.

But it's because knowledge and immortality give us the power to do things, to avoid death and live forever. In SnK, it's the power to be a titan.

But it's also something that humanity misused to do evil too. That was the price of independence. And the myth explains that humans may be sinners because they get carried away by their greed and excesses.

Even if you think that an apple in norse mythology was how gods could gather immortality and of course their power..

It's power. It's that forbidden thing humanity shouldn't have control over.

How does this apply to SnK?

Well first, the whole uprising was the original sin. Paradisians refused God's rules and searched for truth.

In the case of Ymir, she gained a power that was misused by humanity. That power was the apple she gave to the devil (yes, humanity is demonized because of its greed). And Eren gained the power, not children, to destroy the world as part of his own excess.

We won't find any myth were the apple literally means "titan power"... I think it's obvious because it's Isayama's own invention and he conceptualized it as that forbidden thing humanity misused and shouldn't have under control anymore. To represent it as something concrete, he used an apple and a baseball.

But again about the destiny of the apple. It's predictable that this power is going to vanish or change in a way that humanity can't use it again for war while learning that they were wrong all along.

[doctorgerth]

On Sauerkraut and Stairs

Written by: @feminist-zoro

Pseudo name: Basilisa Title: On Sauerkraut and Stairs Characters: Blackleg Sanji, Nico Robin, Trafalgar Law, Roronoa Zoro Chosen word: Drunk Fic type: humor, (kind of) domestic pirate life Warnings: cursing, weird food, drunk people being drunk

Although he would rather die than admit it, Sanji really wasn’t much of a drinker. It wasn’t a big problem since he was usually too busy providing food during parties - but from time to time the crew stumbled upon groups that were interested in getting wasted more than anything else. The Heart Pirates were – as weird as it sounds – such a group and every meeting with them had ended badly for poor Sanji and for his even poorer head. It was like they were compensating for their captain’s seriousness and strictness. The Heart Pirates had been using the opportunity of meeting the Straw Hats to its fullest and had been always dropping a heavy drinking tempo, one that even Zoro couldn’t keep up with. This time wasn’t any different and Sanji quickly found himself blabbering and stumbling, with the night still young and both crews still eager to empty all the barrels. As he was still able to control himself, he decided to withdraw for a while, with an excuse of looking for a restroom. 

He intended to head straight to the men’s quarters and dive into his bed, but he sensed someone’s presence on the deck. Well, so much for sleeping. He really couldn’t show that drunk weakness of his now, when someone had spotted him. Especially, if that person was precious Robin-chan, enjoying her book in the light of deck’s lamp and wrapped in a cute blanket.

“Robin-chwaaan~”, Sanji rushed towards her, swirling up the gangway. He tripped midway and almost fell, but Robin caught him in time.

“Sanji, are you alright?” her eyes showed concern as she smiled at him so gently and lovely as only she could smile (Sanji would definitely melt right away, but the world was still circling around him and he wasn’t fully sure what was going on). She held on to him and didn’t withdraw with her Devil Fruit ability until Sanji stood firmly on the deck and stopped looking like he’s just about to faint.

“Of course I am”, he huffed a bit more harshly than he usually talked to women, but almost immediately turned back to his silly self, eyes shining, and cheeks covered in vivid blush. “My amazing Robin-chan is so strong and beautiful! I was blessed with this wonderful rescue!”

“I’m being serious here, Sanji”, she gave him a piercing look and it knocked all ideas and resistance out of his drunk mind. “Are you really alright?”

“… I might have overdone the booze a bit.”

“Oh my”, she couldn’t help but chuckle under her breath seeing Sanji making a face of a kid caught on stealing candies. “They went too hard on you, didn’t they? My poor cook.”

Sanji just whined , “I’ll be so dead tomorrow. And this wild bunch of animals will demand a special hangover breakfast, I’m sure of it.”

“Judging by their tempo, I doubt anyone besides Zoro and Luffy will show up anywhere near food in the close future.”

“Those two alone are enough to kill me.”

Robin laughed aloud, not even bothering to cover her mouth with a hand. She stretched under blankets around her and massaged her stiff nape.

“Would you be so kind and tell Law to bring a cup of coffee for me too?”

“Everything for you, Robin-chwaaa- wait”, Sanji was already half up the stairs when he realized what exactly Robin had said to him. “Tra-guy is here?”

“He said he needed some caffeine, so he should be in the kitchen?” she pointed, but Sanji was already gone, only some muffled swears audible from distance.

Trafalgar Law was indeed in the kitchen, half buried in Sanji’s precious fridge. It took a lot of willpower for Sanji to not kick his butt to teach him a lesson on raiding the allies’ food supplies.

“Has no one told you it’s a dick move to touch other people’s stuff without permission?”, he teased him instead. “Especially if there’s a padlock on it?”

Law turned to him and gazed straight into his eyes as he continued devouring a slice of cheese. He had his pockets stuffed with – as Sanji suspected – the dainties hidden for special meals for Nami and Robin and held a jar of Nami’s hand-made tangerines in syrup. Sanji could feel his anger boiling as the Heart Pirates captain reached for another treat, a slice of ham this time, and – without breaking eye contact – slowly consumed it whole.

Sanji would really kick him for this but the world made a move against him and started swirling around again. He had to grip a counter to prevent an embarrassing fall on his ass. Law looked like he was about to interfere but with one deeper breath he realized it’s not an illness, but just the result of rum and sake.

“Blackleg-ya, you better go to sleep.” He patted Sanji’s shoulder in an awkward attempt of showing sympathy and continued with looting the kitchen. Sanji didn’t really feel like stopping him anymore, just observing him with eyes half opened, so the world wouldn’t dance anymore.

“If you’re looking for something for Robin-chan, then give her cookies with that coffee”, he suggested as Law finally got his hands on the coffee maker. “No sugar nor cream, by the way. And candies are in the storage.”

He threw him a key, missing a good foot in distance. Law immediately roomed it right into his hands, giving Sanji a disapproving look. Yeah, it was definitely time to do something about this spinning. Sanji hummed to himself some old song he randomly recalled, trying to find in the mess of his head some kind of solution. What would the old geezer tell him to do? The answer was so obvious it made Sanji laugh and almost loose his balance when he rushed to execute the idea.

In the corner of the kitchen there was that one specific barrel, which Sanji had never let anyone touch. It was full of high-quality sauerkraut he had been storing for a rainy day. The good, old (but smelly as heck and hard to feed Luffy a dose of) life-saving treat had been with the Strawhats in all dark hours, when Nami’s trees hadn’t been bearing fruit and they were out of other citruses. Sanji thought he could never be its bigger fan than he had already been – until now, as he remembered the magical feature of its juice, the real-life antidote against alcohol. The taste maybe wasn’t the best but the result? Sanji almost cried due to happiness of saving himself from a long and painful process of sobering and surviving the hangover.

Law, though, was far away from happy when he caught him gathering the juice into a cup straight from the barrel and gulping on it like on fresh, cold water. He couldn’t even look straight into Sanji’s face as he gave him the key back, “Blackleg-ya, you don’t need to be that disgusting in public.”

 “You’re the one who got his ass into my kitchen”, Sanji, teasingly, took a long and loud sip. “Shoo, get lost.”

Law looked like he was about to return the late-night snacks. He grabbed the coffeepot and cups and almost bolted out, murmuring some lame excuse under his nose. Sanji celebrated his little win with the last full cup of sauerkraut blessing.

“Robin-chwaaaan, I’m going to use the bathroom~” Then he glanced over the deck, finding his beautiful archeologist and the traumatized surgeon enjoying their coffee and relaxing on the lawn. “Wanna have a bath with me?~”

“I’ll pass but enjoy your time.” Robin sent him her cute, precious smile and he almost melted again.

“You sure you gonna make it up there, Blackleg-ya?” Law still didn’t dare to look straight at his face after their little encounter – or at least Sanji couldn’t tell it from the distance. “You’re drunk as a skunk – and I’m not putting you together, if you fall from there.”

Sanji flipped the bird at him and firmly made his way on the top level. He could feel Robin’s concerned gaze on his back, so he obviously couldn’t fail right now. There’s no way he could make her worried, not his precious Robin-chan! And with the power of sauerkraut behind him, nothing could possibly knock him dead.

He, indeed, won the fight with the stairs – but wasn’t expecting the bathroom door being slammed open for him. It alone almost made him jump but…

“DAVY FUCKING JONES!”, he screamed in pure horror as a weird creature came out, slouching and lurching towards him. He could swear it had multiple limbs and at least two heads. Sanji jumped back, way too far, as he soon learned, leaning over a railing. And, finally, falling headfirst down on the deck.

Robin and Law both acted on reflex, clashing their activated Devil Fruit abilities as a result. The upper part of Sanji’s body was held firmly by Robin’s hands and he could see his legs flying away in the opposite direction, carried by the Law’s power. Someone – maybe even he himself – cursed like an old sailor, something was thrown on the deck and been rolling while making weird noises. The terrifying creature on the top level glanced over the broken railing as Robin put half-conscious Sanji’s part on the lawn.

“Is he finally dead?”, it asked, revealing itself as Roronoa Zoro; very confused and heavily drunk as well – but definitely pleased at a sight of what he had done. The extra limbs Sanji saw were nothing more than his three swords, moved for some reason on the shoulder instead of hip. The ‘second head’ was meanwhile a huge pitcher full of delicious sake. Zoro drank straight from it, almost chocking on the drink and his own laugh.

“You could have killed him, you idiot”, Law scolded him. Together with Robin he tried to put Sanji back together into one piece, what, obviously, wasn’t that easy. The cook was resisting, kicking like mad and turning his torso around in nothing but a pure drunk panic. Robin had to sit on his chest and pin him down, so Law could room the rest back on its place without any other fail.

“Like hell I was expecting him to walk into the bathroom in the middle of a night party”, the main offender didn’t even try to hide a mischievous grin. “Need any help with knocking him out?”

Robin gave him a warning frown, “You rocked the boat enough”. Her serious poker face broke a bit and even Zoro didn’t want to see her really pissed.

“I’ll carry him to the quarters then”, he proposed almost apologetically and rushed down the stairs.

“You better watch yourself; you are wasted and…” Zoro didn’t even let Nico Robin end her sentence as he slipped and drove down the stairs on his ass.

Law just groaned and facepalmed, “Now you know why I don’t let my people drink, Nico-ya”.

When later asked by Chopper how on Earth he got splinters in his butt cheeks, Zoro honestly couldn’t remember anything and Robin, when asked, just made a weird face, suggesting she wouldn’t answer any questions even under torture. So no one asked, including Sanji who’s memories ended very vaguely on seeing something weird in the bathroom. But when you live on the one ship with a living skeleton, humanized reindeer and a dude made of rubber, you quickly learn to exclude the word ‘weird’ from your dictionary.

The barrel of sauerkraut became the only victim of the night. It got ejected into the back of the storeroom and covered with a few layers of rugs. For some unknown reason, Sanji developed a strong disgust towards its smell and taste.

“I would rather die on scurvy than touch this shit”, he claimed, much to Luffy’s happiness.

[thepoetlillies]

Eris - An Original Short Story

Writing Prompt: Turn one of the last texts you sent into a story

Selected Text Conversation: 

Me: A truly chaotic goddess xx

Friend: We stan xx

Word Count: 1,573

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Pagan Gods. Each civilization possesses those ancient beings that used to be praised with the creation and preservation of the world. As science evolved, these gods were dismissed. Simply disregarded as myths. Tall tales of great beings who controlled all aspects of life, told by the ancient worlds as an explanation for something previously unexplainable. Until what science can currently perceive decided that Gods were an impossible fantasy, pushing them out in favour of the contemporary state of technology.

Nevertheless, they continue to roam, their immortality unwavering.  

They each assume various identities, learning to move around every few years, once their everlasting appearance becomes suspicious to the mortal eye. They used to get away with their immortal looks, people were too stressed with plagues and whatnot to really notice, and those who did notice didn’t exactly have time to care. Following 1963 however, they’ve learnt to not stay put too long, seeing as Aphrodite was prosecuted for witchcraft in colonial Massachusetts. 

You’d probably get concerned if your lovely young neighbour Mary hadn’t aged in a decade too.

Inevitably, some remain more obvious than others, like lightning storms following Dave From Accounting wherever he goes. However, mortality has a habit of ignoring this, turning a blind eye so as to not disturb their habitual routines. No one would ever really notice, not unless they went looking for it which not many people do anymore. 

Some people still go searching for some of the more notable gods and goddesses, typically by those modern witches whose shrines and alters offer gifts aiming to please their chosen deity.

Though there are some who manage to roam completely undetected. Even if they entertain certain antics and habits, they are downright disregarded despite their ability to leave behind immense shadows of mayhem.

Eris, unsurprisingly, flawlessly fits the latter category, being the Greek Goddess of Strife, Discord, Chaos and all. Her powers just finished up their riots in a quaint, little spa town known as Harrogate, leaving the city in complete and utter pandemonium before shadowing her arrival in York. The local market utterly oblivious to her presence. For now.

The mundanity of the market is observed from a nearby cafe. The raised countertop and stools provide the ideal view through the floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing the willowy figure to survey the public. 

Various women charge through the market, scouring the stalls for their weekly purchases as though the announcement of nuclear war was just broadcasted. Other women simply wander through, looking at that, looking at this. The echoing of “ooh should I? Well go on then! I’ll treat myself, shall I?” floats throughout Parliament Street for hours. 

There were men who stand with shoulders so pushed back and chins so raised, their masculinity begins to shake as they desperately seek confirmation that they are worthy men while purchasing seeds for their garden. And there were men who embraced their excitement about the local farmer’s market. Both varieties of masculinity equal in worth, as both varieties of women were too. 

Despite the differing types of people, everything was harmonious. A calm before the storm, if you will. The customers worked in tandem with the shopkeepers, ensuring that everyone received their household needs and wants as they received their wages. Each face of each individual adorned a smile as they gazed at the beautiful assortments of goods offered by each stall owner. It was its very own ecosystem, consistent of producers, consumers, and the essential-yet-invisible decomposers. Though it was about to be hit by a merciless storm of acid rain: Storm Eris. 

She raised from her stool in that peaceful cafe, frayed skirt hem grazing her bony ankles as she floated towards the door. Her aura, a violent swarm of crimson and ebony, attacked the ivory-painted door frame as she drifted across the threshold into her unsuspecting target. 

Though completely unaware, the market’s crowd parted like the Red Sea as though Eris was their Moses. Except for the fact that she was there to ravage their relaxing Sunday afternoon, and, well, not emancipate the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. Not unless the fresh fruit and vegetables were planning a tyrannical uprising against the consumers. 

As she strolled across the cobblestone road, the sky began to darken. She wished  In nearly any other country, the mortals recognised it as a bad omen and would typically disperse but this was the United Kingdom so all it produced were a few murmurs, a couple chuckles and perhaps a grumble. 

Her delicate-but-strong, bare feet stepped on each cobblestone with purpose yet with a very precise, calculated choice to display no discernible pattern in her strides, her pace, even her stance time seemed completely and utterly regular. However, to anyone who knew her, this was a warning. Her own subtle way of alerting any of her fellow immortals that may be lurking, not that she would necessarily admit to it. 

Long toes gripped the hook of the raised pavement as she rose onto it, remaining planted in front of her destination. A smirk only worthy of the devil graced her features as her scheme was about to unfold. The slender figure all but sauntered towards a sweet handmade jewellery stall. 

The stall was situated in a large canvas tent, the cream material already stained with the steadily drizzling rain. Puddles built up on the roof before penetrating the canvas, erratically spilling Adam’s ale on passersby. A beautifully intricate sign had been suspended above the kiosk’s ingress. It was almost reminiscent of a shop sign in a medieval kingdom, being hand-carved oak with hand-painted images of gemstones. Rubies, emeralds, sapphires all honoured by the fine oil painting’s rendition of their beauty, making the stall irresistible to those who pass. That is, until an aggressive surge of rain flooded over the front of the tent, washing away the gorgeous artwork that had been on display above the entrance to the jeweller’s until it looked like a toddler’s murderscene of an expensive coffee table. What was an alluring jewellery kiosk just a few moments ago, was now a precedent to the chaos about to be unleashed on the entire marketplace. Torn canvas and what rather resembled dishwater had replaced the once-stunning store with miserable ruins. 

Her tall stature and thin frame aided her as she glided through the uneven aisles like a phantom, bestowing a sombre aura wherever she went. Even though she is a goddess, she was still somehow the only thing to ever wander through a marketplace tent without bumping into or getting caught on the broken edges of the crappy plastic fold-up tables and chairs that solely exist for markets and primary school summer festivals. Who even makes them? Do they just spawn into existence as soon as anyone mentions a bake sale? I digress. 

The now-disgruntled customers were too rattled to comprehend the silhouette’s exhilarated spirit as it bounded throughout the stall, implementing disaster at each turn. Befuddled eyes darted around the tent as lanterns suddenly exploded, sending scolding fragments of glass every which way, whatever hadn’t landed on the floor or tables imbedding itself in the skin of unlucky shoppers. Not a second after that, the furniture began to rise. Swirling into its own unpredictable tornado, the plastic units crashed into each other as bodies were slammed into the flimsy tent walls before landing on the cold cobblestone. Subsequently, the ground began to shake violently. An impossibly strong earthquake emerged throughout the bazaar; the earth’s song had been sung, echoing not dissimilarly to a machiavellian villain’s maniacal laugh, and the town’s fate had been sealed. 

From there, her storm grew with stealth. Clouds rallying together, their anticipation mutating into ammunition, until Eris unleashed her fury against the undeserving world. But the mortals were oblivious to their fate. Grey whirlpools lurched across the skies as vengeful bolts pierced the ground, sparks scorching stories onto the earth. Soulless smoke pervaded the once-blue atmosphere, leaving an abhorrent sight in its place. Unbeknownst to the ecosystem, it gradually transformed into a perilous wasteland until the acidic showers began to pour. The bitter torrent was unrelenting as throbbing blisters began to litter each unfortunate creature and sulfur dioxide permeated the air until it had polluted every last lung. 

Beneath the fog and dirt lies the gasping population, desperately searching for even one breath of clean air to soothe the searing pain pervading their lungs before their ultimate demise. A pale face raised, hunting for an answer to the many questions overflowing from her mind. Her plump face gazed through the mist but was only met with portraits depicting excruciating pain that undoubtedly mirrored her own and the soundtrack of groans heavy with suffering. That was until the gloom shifted, revealing the one figure still standing. They stood in the exact core of the marketplace but their visage was unidentifiable. The only thing that could be determined was that this figure was in no way human, but here it didn’t matter if they acknowledged her immortality anymore; nobody would survive to recount the story of this massacre so nobody would survive to expose the truth of eternal life. The town, like many others had and would become, was left ravished by the chaos that demands for inescapable death. Thus, the Gods lived on and on and on, and anyone who ever knew of their existence was cursed with the fact that they would take that forbidden knowledge to their premature graves. 

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Hi!

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I’ll be honest when I say it ended up going in a totally different direction than I had originally planned but anyway. This isn’t my best work but I’m still proud of it!

(also, just in case, please can nobody steal this or do anything without crediting me. I don’t think anyone will, I’m just being cautious really, sorry)

Thank You

Amy J. xx

thepoetlillies

[majoraop]

Here you are my full fanfic for the @mothersea-zine: it’s about Doflamingo‘s backstory but it contains spoilers up to the Reverie Arc. Please also check the fanzine blog to watch/read the others contributions and to download the whole zine for free!  ^^

Paradise Lost

Unseen by his family, the child wept.

He was just ten, but the enraged mob didn’t spare him or his younger brother. Years of violence and oppression had hardened their hearts: all they wanted was revenge against the Celestial Dragons that had enslaved them or their loved ones. And now, two children and their father were at their mercy: blindfolded and tied, unable to move or fight back. When an arrow pierced Doflamingo, he uttered a sharp cry. His little body was hanging over a large fire that was consuming the building. The wall pressing against his back was trembling as portions of the palace started crumbling on themselves, and only frail ropes kept him from falling into the cruel flames. The heat was unbearable and the smoke filled his lungs, but worst of all were his younger brother’s cries: Roci was babbling between the sobs that he wanted to die, his words muffled but still unmistakable as he begged in his tiny, broken voice. Rage took Doflamingo over. “I won’t die!” he screamed. “Whatever you’ll do, I’ll survive and kill you all!!!” It was then that a criminal gang, observing the lynching from the sidelines, witnessed an incredible scene: all the people in the mob collapsed as if hit by an invisible force, foam at their mouths and eyes rolling backwards. “Conqueror’s Haki,” murmured the gang’s leader, a slimly old man with malicious eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Haki was a manifestation of someone’s ambition, and only people destined to rule had the rarest variation of it. Apparently, that screaming child was destined to be a king. --- Doflamingo could barely sleep at night. While the scars on his body had faded, nightmares still haunted him even weeks after that terrible day. Sometimes, he even relived the experience while awake, memories flashing uncontrollably through his scarred mind. He often found himself trembling without any apparent reason, but tried to hide the fear gripping his heart from showing in his eyes: he had always worn shades, so that was relatively easy to do at least. What Doflamingo didn’t even try to hide, though, was his hatred for his father. It was his fault if they had left their homeland, the Holy Land Mary Geoise, renouncing the privileges granted by their blood and lineage. It was his fault if they had needed to run away from their new home and hide in a horrible shack in a smelly landfill. It was his fault he and his younger brother were forced to eat garbage from trash cans, with the constant fear of being beaten by other derelicts living in that ill-famed area of the island. It’s your fault mother has died in this lowly, hellish world! Doflamingo clenched his little fists and gritted his teeth, promising to himself he would do anything to go back to the Holy Land he had been exiled from. He would take Roci with him too, but first their father needed to pay for what he made them go through. Though still a child, Doflamingo had grown to hate that naïve and useless man more than any other person in the world. --- “I’ll give you power.” Doflamingo glanced at the leader of the gang who had saved them from the lynching, and then at the two objects he was being offered: a flintlock and a Devil Fruit. He took the first, examined it, and slipped it inside his belt. It was huge compared to his small body, and its pressure against his side made him feel safe. Next, he grabbed the pear-shaped fruit and looked at it suspiciously. He had heard of those cursed fruits, but he had never seen one before. “Its name is ‘Ito Ito no Mi,’” the old man explained. “Not a rare and powerful Logia, but a Paramecia: harder to use in an effective way, but more fitting the intelligence and wisdom of a King.” Doflamingo nodded in acknowledgement, and then took a bite of the pallid fruit. The taste was awful, but not much worse of what he had been forced to eat in that hellish world. He stoically chewed the morsel and then swallowed it. He felt a strange wave of energy running through his body, and when he focused his mind on the image of strings near-invisible threads materialized and grew from his fingers. “As expected from our future King!” The old man clapped his hands, excited. “It’s rare for a Devil Fruit user to be able to use their powers right away, but you managed to do it!” Doflamingo listened to him silently. He wasn’t sure that was such a big deal… those were just strings! How could such fragile things be useful to him? As if reading his mind, the man said, “Still, mastering it will take time. But don’t worry, Doffy: these powers will become useful to you one day.” Doflamingo nodded at him again. He did have patience, and would study and train hard if that was necessary to gain his original status and privileges back. But there may be an easier way… A dark expression on his face, Doflamingo turned on his heel and searched for an isolated area to try a few things with his new powers. --- A tall man had his knees on the ground and a pistol pointed at the back of his head. Behind him stood a child, his little body quivering with anger and his hand barely managing to hold the large weapon. “Stop, brother! Stop!!!” a younger child cried and threw himself into the man’s arms, sobbing. Doflamingo ignored him and yelled at their father, “It’s all your fault!” You killed mother… “You can’t fix what you did, but we’ll bring your head to the Holy Land in order to be accepted there again!” …It’s all been your fault!!! The child steeled himself and closed Roci’s desperate cries off, preparing to shoot. Surely, by killing that traitor of their clan he and Roci would be accepted back into the Holy Land. Surely, that would put an end to their current miserable life, to the pain, to the starving. Surely, he was doing the right thing… And yet, a small part of him maybe wished for their useless father to stop him, to act as an adult for once and take the lead. Maybe, their father would finally take his responsibility and let him be a simple child. However, Homing simple turned to look at his son with a pathetic expression on his face and whispered, “I’m sorry you’ve had a terrible father like me.” Furious, Doflamingo pulled the trigger.

--- A child was flying under the ruthless, scorching sun. That wasn’t really “flying” actually but a trick made possible by Doflamingo’s magical strings, which he attached to the dense white clouds of that windy summer afternoon. According to legends, dragons flew through the skies by creating clouds and climbing up to the heavens thanks to them; one day Doflamingo had tried to do the same with the clouds drifting across the sky, and to his surprise it had worked! He had read about the White Sea and the islands in the sky in the books his new family had provided him with, but he hadn’t imagined he could actually reach them with his strings… Even then, learning to “fly” hadn’t been an easy task: a few times he had risked falling into the sea, which would have resulted in sure death since Devil Fruit users couldn’t swim. To make things harder, right now the child was weighted down—and not just physically—by the bundle tied on his back: the fabric wrapped his father’s severed head, and even if the cloth was thick blood had still managed to resurface and had stained Doflamingo’s tattered shirt. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the damp sensation on his back as he latched onto the clouds with his strings, slowly proceeding to his destination: the Red Line. He would avoid both sides of the Red Port—the only official access to the Holy Land—and instead climb the rocky ring that divided the ocean into two separate halves. Doflamingo was sweating profusely for the exertion, but with a last twitch of his fingers and a carefully aimed swing he finally landed. It was evening already but he decided to keep going, ignoring not just the cold wind blasting against the steep rocky wall but also the hunger and the thirst—he hadn’t brought water or anything to eat with him not to further weigh himself down—as he half-climbed and half-flew to the top of the Red Line. His eyes fixed upwards, the child never looked down at the hellish world he wanted to leave behind. --- The moon was high in the night sky when the exhausted child finally climbed one of the long stairs leading to the Pangea Castle. Doflamingo intended to bring his father’s head to the Gorosei, the “Five Elder Stars,” who were the highest-ranking World Nobles. That would be proof of his loyalty to them, and he would then request to be accepted back among the Celestial Dragons together with his brother and the people who had saved them. Nobody was around at that late hour so Doflamingo managed to enter the Pangea Castle unnoticed, but he had only been there once before his family left Mary Geoise so he eventually got lost. He walked along dark and empty corridors, up and down stairs, across large rooms and luscious courtyards. After what felt like hours, the child finally ended up in what he assumed was the basement of the castle. It was cold down there, and he wondered if he should go back upstairs: it was unlikely that the Gorosei were in such place. And yet, something inside him spurred Doflamingo to explore that lonely area of the building a bit more. Not long later, the child stepped into a freezing chamber with niches on its walls. A faint glowing had drawn him there, and he took a few silent steps closer to the source of that ghostly light. When he finally reached the only illuminated niche he stared curiously at the giant straw hat inside it, which looked ancient and frozen in time. Doflamingo reached with his small hand to touch the relic, but a voice yelled from the end of the chamber, “Who is there?” Then, a figure cladded in dark clothes and wearing a peculiar headgear, tall and narrow, emerged from the shadows. Startled, the child jolted and turned his head, but he regained his composure almost immediately. “I’m Donquixote Doflamingo,” he replied, “and I want to see the Gorosei.” “Your family has been exiled, and you shouldn’t be here anyway. Guards!” the stranger called through a den den mushi. A few moments later, a group of soldiers appeared at the entrance of the chamber and asked, “What’s happening, Your Majesty?” “Take this whelp away—no, wait, it’s better if you kill him.” Doflamingo’s blood froze. “You can’t do that!” he screamed. “I’m a Celestial Dragon too—a god!!!” “No,” the tall figure with cold eyes retorted, “you’re just a mere human now.” Doflamingo gritted his teeth, rage building up inside him. A moment later he dashed towards the door, cutting down the soldiers with his strings. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, but he fought them back and kept running, enduring the lightness in his head and the pain in his feet: he hadn’t had water or food for nearly a whole day, and his body was nearing its limit. The child ran and ran, clinging to life and unwilling to give up: he didn’t understand why his plan hadn’t worked, but he wouldn’t die there. Doflamingo cursed his father, his fate—heaven itself!—but never let go of his ambitious spirit as he dodged or got ridden of the soldiers sent after him. After a while he got lost again, but this time he ended up in a large chamber with a throne towering above him: sitting on it was the same person he had met in the basement of the castle. “It’s here!” the tall figure stood up and yelled into the den-den mushi. Doflamingo didn’t have time to catch a breath as soldiers rushed into the room to murder him. With no other way out, he threw himself at the nearest stained glass window. A crashing sound was followed by colourful shards being shattered around. They cut the child’s delicate skin and he screamed. The glass had also torn the fabric wrapped around his father’s head, which rolled across the floor and stopped only when it hit Doflamingo’s feet. He looked down at those empty eyes staring at him and screamed again, tears now freely running down his face as the full weight of what he had done finally hit him. And yet Doflamingo still didn’t stop, still didn’t give up. He found an escape route out of the Pangea Castle and rushed outside: he was safe. However, his thoughts kept running in circles: killing his own father hadn’t granted him and Roci access back to Mary Geoise; they were still stuck in the lower, hellish world. It’s all been useless. --- The child had miraculously managed to leave the Red Line alive, but once back to his new family a bitter surprise awaited him: his brother had disappeared. Doflamingo secretly searched for Roci for months, but to no avail. Eventually, he gave up and focused on just surviving. Following his escape from Mary Geoise, assassins had started being sent after him. He was forced to grow fast and to become smarter, stronger, ruthless. He couldn’t go back to the Holy Land, but was determined not to succumb. And to achieve that, he accepted to become the King of this hellish world. For a long time the youth fled from island to island with his family, and when they finally found a little peace in Spider Miles he promised to himself that one day he would drag to the ground the Celestial Dragons that hadn’t accepted him back. In order to do that, though, he needed even more power, even more influence. Tirelessly, the young man studied the history of the world; he even read about myths and legends, not wanting to risk overlooking anything potentially useful to his cause. Then, one day he finally decided his next move: he would start with taking back Dressrosa. After all, that kingdom had once been his family’s—but that was before the Donquixote had joined the other nobles that had united most of the countries under the current World Government. Doflamingo laughed to himself, thinking about how easy it would be to take control of that island. Obviously, he had researched it: its current king was a naïve, foolish man who reminded him of his own father. Triggered by those memories, flashbacks of his childhood suddenly assaulted Doflamingo. The smirk on his face disappeared and he started sweating, his head spinning so much he had to sit down. He took some deep breaths to calm himself while frantically checking his surroundings, but luckily nobody from his family was around. I am their King… I can’t show weakness to them. A king couldn’t falter, couldn’t cry, couldn’t touch the ground with his knees or bow to anybody. I need to be invincible… or even better, immortal. --- At last, the plan to gain control over Dressrosa had been fully defined. At that time, Doflamingo was still living in Spider Miles with his family—and also pirate crew: a varied and eccentric group of people who had naturally accepted him as their King and had always supported him. He couldn’t really feel love anymore, but he did his best to protect them. Besides, he needed their help to invade Dressrosa in order to become its rightful King. Then, I will show you my dream: destroying this hellish world ruled by the Celestial Dragons. However, to reach his goal he had to become the king of the underground first. Doflamingo assumed the “Joker” alias, but he had another moniker too. It was only known by the few people in the world aware of his identity, who appropriately called him “Heavenly Yaksha”—a demon descended from the heavens. Doflamingo smirked: that sounded fitting for a fallen Celestial Dragon like himself… Anyway, while as the “Joker” he easily took control of the slave market, he actually aimed to become a weapons and fake Devil Fruits smuggler. He needed more men and facilities to realise that, though. First, I will gain control over Dressrosa and use it as our new operations base. Doflamingo had already started to move his pawns towards that objective, when something unexpected happened. --- One freezing winter night, just when the wind calmed down, the brother Doflamingo had thought lost forever appeared before him. …Roci? Fourteen years had passed since the last time he had seen him, but those amber eyes and thick blond hair were unmistakable. Feeling something he couldn’t really put his finger on, Doflamingo ignored his suspicions and moved automatically: he didn’t hug his brother, but put his pink feather coat over his shoulders to shield him from the snow that was falling down heavily. Rocinante didn’t move or speak, his eyes staring at the ground. “When you disappeared… what happened to you back then?” Rocinante didn’t answer and just shook his head. Doflamingo didn’t know if his brother’s inability to speak was related to him killing their father, but he didn’t care: what was done was done, but from now on he would protect his little brother. “Come with me,” he told him. His brother nodded and followed him inside the Donquixote Pirates headquarters. In the following days, Doflamingo tried to communicate with Rocinante a little more. He gave him some paper sheets and a pen, and that way they were able to share some words and simple phrases. Rocinante’s reserved personality didn’t help though, so he couldn’t learn much about what had happened to him during all those years of separation. Even then, he kept ignoring the warning voice inside him: he didn’t want to distrust his own brother. Other than having lost his voice, Rocinante had apparently become clumsier than ever while growing up. He often slipped and fell on the floor or even put himself on fire—the smoking habit he had picked up not really helping with the latter. That aside, he was surprisingly skilled when it came to investigation and sailing. Not long after Rocinante’s arrival, Doflamingo decided he would assign him missions too. But before that, his brother needed an alias like the rest of his family. Doflamingo remained pensive for a moment, and then said, “When we’ll take back Dressrosa you’ll occupy the Heart Seat, so you’ll be ‘Corazon.’” Rocinante simply nodded as he always did when he agreed with his decisions, and also accepted the black feather coat Doflamingo had had made especially for him. The next day, when his brother was about to leave for his first mission, Doflamingo stared at him and asked, “What’s that?” Rocinante touched his own face, and then wrote on a piece of paper: “Makeup—to scare enemies away.” “Fufufu… you’re so silly. But it isn’t a bad idea.” Rocinante nodded and put a pair of black glasses on. “Be careful out there,” Doflamingo told him. His brother’s lips opened as if he wanted to say something, but it was just a fleeting moment. “You don’t need to strain yourself… you’ll eventually talk again one day.” Rocinante smiled sadly, and again the voice inside Doflamingo told him that something was wrong. That he should be careful. As his brother walked away, Doflamingo shook his head and murmured, “Please don’t betray me, Roci.” --- Doflamingo couldn’t ignore the evidence anymore and simply accepted it as fact. His younger brother was a traitor: a marine—an undercover agent—sent to spy on him and stop him from taking over Dressrosa. When Rocinante pointed his pistol at him, screaming words of hate and resentment, Doflamingo took out his own flintlock—the same one he had used to kill their father—and shot him down. The fallen god cursed his fate: he had been forced to kill his own blood a second time. --- “That word on your back, ‘Corazon,’ what does it mean? And the name of your crew, ’Pirates of Heart,’ what’s its meaning?!” Doflamingo was confronting Trafalgar D Law, the man who had refused to give him the immortality he sought after. He couldn’t believe his brother had given his life to save someone as miserable as him. “You… you’ll never sit on the Heart Seat! How you dare to carry a heart on you back?!” Intentioned to dispel that curse, those memories of Corazon—of Roci—that kept haunting him, Doflamingo emptied his weapon on Law’s body. It’s over now, he thought, panting. It’s really over. On that very day, though, a different “D” still brought him ruin. The legends were true: people of that accursed clan really were the predators of the gods. --- Donquixote Doflamingo was still alive. Even in solitary confinement in a dark cell of Impel Down, the most infamous prison in the world. Even with his powers suppressed by the heavy seastone chains wrapped around his body, immobilized on the floor with his arms and legs spread open in a cruel parody of the most humiliating memory of his childhood. Even if he had nobody to talk to, his boredom growing day after day and gnawing at his sanity—or what little remained of it. Even in the bottom of hell, Doflamingo was still alive and his ambition was still intact. It had been dented when he had been dethroned and his glasses had shattered, but he had a spare pair of them back on now. And like when he was a child, those shades concealed the fear that sometimes tried to resurface in his eyes. Given his current predicament, Doflamingo wouldn’t be able to protect himself when the assassins still after him would finally strike. But despite that, he still laughed, still plotted, still waited eagerly for those damned Celestial Dragons to be dragged to the ground. Doflamingo had no doubts that, one day, those fake gods would taste some of that hell as well.

[bitteraristocrat]

Sanctimonious || Autumnal Dreamscape Drabble

We walk on the corpses of Eden’s seasons of yore.

The crepitating of their shattering bodies, crumbling beneath the wooden force of heels on cobblestone. Fallen blades that once painted the surrounding acreage in vibrant green lie on the ground. Copper chromatics flurry in the dead gales, revealing hidden arachnids and field mice beneath the detritus of leaves. The aged wheat fields waltzed, their golden hue glowing amid a murmuring wind, as a sacred and concealed ground of Her Majesty’s country stood in the midst of a crisp September. Victoria’s masses were wont to leave such a derelict site unheeded and out of mind; the science and prosperity of the creeping new century was far more enticing, thus leaving a decrepit and crumbling stone chapel neglected forevermore.

Naught but the neglected seek refuge therein. 

A muff of fur outlined the boy's jaw and bottom lip, top hat pulled to an overcasting tilt. In spite of the lowering sun, the Autumn day provided no warmth. Nay, the only warmth came from clothed flesh tightly pressed together, such as the creases of crossed legs or clenched fists. The youthful and solitary Earl of Phantomhive stood before a broken and unused thing and saw only reflections. In great contrast to the refractions of dusklight, said reflections were tenebrous in nature, be it a mound of crumbling stone or splintered flecks of faded stain glass. What was once a church was a ramshackle of decay amongst the dying leaves. The young Lord pulled a frown at its pitiful state, and proceeded to inspect it in closer proximity. 

Such fragile things were not meant to be observed from afar; such as the ghost of a cathedral, such as the boy who ventured closer. 

The air around him was akin to that of a phantasm. A dreamscape of pirouetting leaves fluttering around Ciel as he crept beyond an arched opening leading to the heart of the befallen sanctum. The icy wind that caressed the child patrician’s cheeks was scarce in contrast to the steady and gelid iris of blue that bored forward into the shrine with a glare. So aimlessly fixed ahead into the myriad of corpses. Corpses of faith, corpses of Summer, corpses of establishment. 

They took him in as their own, and he greeted them with mutual sympathy. 

Reverently, a begloved hand fondled the edge of a fragmented structure. Each digit pointedly stroking its crevices and cracks as the young Lord passed it, the clacking of heels and walking stick echoing on the fractured and moss-ridden marble. Each deteriorating effigy stared him down with their grey stone eyes in judgement and curiosity as he navigated the skeleton of the church. The Earl scoffed at his power over them. Mobility, spirit, vice, he possessed them all. And yet, the statues of Mary and the angels were permitted to display their brokenness, while Ciel had naught but a shattered heart hidden behind lapels and frocks and jabots. 

He had no right beyond his stature to display such hauteur. 

Some sentiment possessed him to progress to the altar, wherein, he indulged in a pause. Dead foliage crusted around the imprint of a crucifix, and the wind gusted through the open walls, sending the young Master’s cape fluttering about him. At the zephyr’s calming, a second pair of clacking shoes sounded in the sanctum, far more careful and sharp than their predecessor. 

An incubus tread on holy grounds.

“You are just as conspicuous in this place as I,” the voice of the footsteps spoke, “my Lord.” The retainer of Lord Phantomhive approached the altar, having seemingly materialized from the shadows. With a sneer, he, too, eyed the cross before permitting his slivered pupils to roam the befallen structures. “I instructed the hansom to take his leave once you had been absent for longer than anticipated. Pray tell, what devout inclination brought you to such a destination?”

“Don’t tease,” Ciel barked, his scowl averting to his butler. “My intentions aren’t pious in the slightest.”

“I do beg pardon,” Sebastian offered a coy glance of confusion. “Then, why are you here?”

The young Master savoured the inquiry, hesitating in reply. He was not even certain of his response when he parted his lips to utter, “I was curious.”

Unsatisfied with the answer, the demon frowned and dismissed the conversation. It was nonsensical to pry at the fruitless curiosity of a child. Naught but frivolity and idle thought dwelt therein. An approach far more suited for his contractee was to be ensued by the butler in order to unveil the human’s rationale. Such as a stalking predator, Sebastian saw fit to strut forward and inspect the stone table before the pair. Incardinine eyes ravished the sight of such sanctity, hands became naked and pressed their pads to the sculpted monument.

“Surely, you recall how to pray, Master.”

“What?” 

“This was once a chapel, the epitome of prayer. The sole shrine devoted to forgiveness. Perhaps this is your reason for blessing it with your unchaste presence?”

Ciel gawked at the devil, flummoxed and growing annoyed. “What a preposterous thing for you, of all people, to say. Don’t be daft, I have no reason to pray.” With embarrassment waxing, the boy spun on his heel and made way from whence he came. In spite of his intent to leave, Sebastian now stood at what the decayed church had to offer for an entrance. The boy halted in his stride and doubled back in a startle. His inhuman counterpart sized him up, appraising his little lord with a ravenous smirk. 

Cornered between holiness and the cursed clutches of Hell was the sinner.

“Do you know the Fatima Aspiration? Did you once utter it to God? When you took something that was not yours, or saw something you were not permitted to see? Such trifling sins you committed as a little boy do not compare to that of the vice you plagued your soul with.”

“What are you on about, Sebastian?” The Earl’s rage and perturbed state waxed as the demon stalked closer, the autumnus gales swirling violently about them. “Cease this farce at once, I will tolerate no more.” Alas, his protests seemed to only entice Sebastian further. The younger backed into the altar, stumbling onto its surface, to which, the demon pounced and closed the space between them. 

“A farce? Do you not credit my instincts?” Sebastian guffawed before reaching his ink-tipped fingers to untie the knot of his Lord’s eyepatch. “I find it most amusing, and nettlesome all the same, that my master threaten his allegiance to the contract by paying heed to such an establishment. Will you pray? I will lead you in the verse, as it has been such a very long time since such words stained your lips.” The seal of their covenant was entirely revealed, the heterochromatic hues of the boy’s eyes glimmering beneath the strong left hand of the devil. 

“‘Domine Iesu, dimitte nobis debita nostra,’” 

Sebastian purred, his hand resting upon the plump fruit of his master’s frost-bitten cheek.

“‘...salva nos ab igne inferiori,’”

“Stop it,” Ciel shuddered, making an attempt to break from the grasp of his hunter. His clutches held fast, snaking the unoccupied hand to grip the boy’s shoulder. The nip of September’s wind was naught but a notional memory, as a heated concoction of breaths saturated what space was between them. The young Master’s body burned in mortification. Sebastian’s lips hung open heavily, as if he were some salivating dog, baring his fangs.

“‘...perduc in caelum omnes animas,’”

The devil’s talons raked back the fallen fringe about the hue of lavender, admiring their covenant with a heady lust. “Will you not ask for forgiveness, my Lord?” Ciel’s back pressed harder into the stone table of the altar, his top hat falling from his crown as he arched beneath the demon. No answer was given aside from a burning glower, trapped beneath the weight and seduction of the other. 

“‘..praesertim eas...quae misericordiae tuae maxime indigent.’”

A smite broke the intimacy. Sebastian released his prey and retracted. 

“I will not ask for forgiveness to some intangible and fictitious deity,” the boy scolded in a guttural shout, standing tall once more. “I need not pray to be forgiven for the sins I have committed for my own sake. They are my own. My sins are mine, alone.” 

||||||||||

|| A piece I composed last year rather hastily, hence the abrupt end. Whoops. Still, with the changing of seasons, I figured it was time to share. Enjoy! ||

[colpeia]

Sungrass Oasis

~ Music ~

The crisp ocean breeze felt revitalizing and abrupt in such sunbaked air. Beneath an otherwise lavender sky, peach colors streaked around the sun as it hid behind a glittering turquoise horizon. Salty sea turtles roamed the shore.

On a large wooden deck overlooking the beach, a pair of tawny blood elves squatted over the sides of opposite lounge chairs.

A pensive sigh escaped Colpeia as she gazed up. “Well, at least we’re no longer hated for what we’re not.”

The solemn nature of Roholly’s nod didn’t stop the characteristically peppy bounce of her ponytail. She said nothing.

“What are mother and father going to do?”

“They’re returning to the glass forge,” Roholly said. “It’s still there, thankfully, and undamaged. So they’re going to continue running Beamgully Crystal like before.” She hesitated, an uncomfortable thought tugging her lips. “I’m honestly not sure whether Eversong Woods is going to welcome them back with awkward guilt, or the same scowls that made them leave. You know how they are about their craft, though.”

“Passionate.”

“I mean, it’s just as well. Finding a suitable place in Dalaran never got easier. Not for them at least.”

“Are you’re staying, then?” Colpeia asked.

There was gratitude in Roholly’s smile. She glimpsed at her feet. “Mhmm. I’ve already settled in, so it’s like, why return to Silvermoon? Why return to a place that was so quick to cast us out? People I had worked with for years acted like they’d never known me... It hurt.” The echo of grief leaking into her voice dropped to bitter sarcasm, “Really, I’d love to see how they deal with telling patients they need a root canal. They were far too sour. The people I work with now are a lot nicer.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“What about you though? Enough clientele?”

Colpeia huffed a laugh, “They haven’t stopped. Though, most of them have been architects. Civilians want to rebuild and protect themselves. After Lordaeron and what happened in Teldrassil, I’m not surprised.” She stopped, her humble expression heralding a confession. “Actually, because of the extra money, there is something else I want to do.”

“What’s that?” Roholly blinked, bewildered. “And honestly, why? Why work any harder when you’ve already such a solid income?”

“When this war started I was already tired. I’ve rested. Now I see a lot of other people tired. Tired, injured, and very sad. I want to give them a place to rest.” Unthinkingly, she turned to the hills winding just behind and beyond the beach house. They resembled dried and knotted-up honeycombs. “A place with soft seats and hot tea. Maybe somewhere in Gadgetzan.”

“That sounds ambitious when you don’t have a tribe to help you,” Roholly joked.

Colpeia looked back at her and returned a knowing smile.

She sat on the bed, her room under the blue blanket of midnight. A silvery glow brushed every contour. The window behind her was open, revealing distant waves glittering under a nearly full moon. Their rhythmic whisper was a soothing but everyday nostalgia to her while a cool draft carried its hush inside. Colpeia’s long stare sank into the vanity mirror against the wall. She looked as dazed as she felt.

Her motivation wasn’t purely altruistic, and she knew it. This was a time of war. She was plagued by an addiction only battles could feed - not for bloodlust or power, but an insatiable redemption she didn’t need in the first place. It spiraled her into a desperate black hole of this-still-isn’t-good-enough-to-absolve-me. If she dedicated herself to soothing survivors, it meant she couldn’t go to wanton lengths rescuing people in danger.

The mathematician knew a negative feedback loop when she saw one. Colpeia was Tildalune’s curse, which made her feel guilty, which piled onto her continued self-blame, which was Tildalune’s curse. She projected her acquaintance’s death onto people in danger only to re-experience severe personal failure if they weren’t saved. This trigger was unavoidable in wartime.

It was fortunate her tribe offered so many methods of mind-healing; they were helping. It couldn’t stop there, however. Constant over-exposure didn’t help to desensitize her, but a change in environment might.

How does one stop a negative feedback loop? Replace the causing variable. After Tildalune’s death, she had fantasies of nurturing her back to health and providing comfort. What if Colpeia frequently did something that she would associate with this ‘fake memory’? She could soothe people who survived danger, instead of succeeding or failing as their white knight.

She could learn to stop. She could focus on how she’d grown to care about Tildalune instead of how she’d failed her.

Tildalune’s spirit could be free to move on. She promised.

A vague breath of a silhouette flashed the corner of her eye, and a honeyed voice beamed in her head:

It’s time. Run, my sweet desert gazelle. It’s waiting for you. You know I’ll be right behind you.

For the next week Colpeia was a montage of sending proposal letters, receiving terms, ordering equipment, and huddling over a floor plan.

In an eclipse-like flash, holding a crescent pendant, she vanished. Colpeia reappeared amidst the celestial themed tents and Silithus-esque crystals floating above the ground. Presenting her floor plan to a gradually swelling group, she delved into thorough detail - the aesthetic, the business plan, the modest building she’d be renting, the spirit of the lounge. The appraising eyes mulling over her words eventually exchanged amenable glances.

Several yards from the shore, a herd of camels sped majestically across the gold sand, their hooves kicking up clouds in their wake. Thick ribbons of cloth gracefully fluttered behind their human and elven riders. Gadgetzan drew nearer.

Slowing to a saunter through the dusty port town, the half-dozen Shafise approached the clay dome building Colpeia had described. Knicks of moderate wear greeted them.

The following month was a slew of repairs, painting, tiling, heaving furniture, positioning lights atop secured ladders, and repositioning ornaments. Regularly catered at the entrance were water and food fine enough to convey a grateful gesture. 

Sungrass Oasis was ready to open.

Colpeia sat over the bar scanning over a collection of slender menus. They catalogued an overwhelming list of loose-leaf and blooming flower teas. The rest were fanciful snacks: clamlette magnifique, clam chowder, goblin deviled clams, firebloom crab cakes, cactus fruit salad, Shafisian desert dumplings, hot roc wings, fried scorpid, and prickly pear sorbet. She wasn’t initially pleased about needing a supply of meat, until a goblin explained they always had these ingredients leftover after pest control and harbor maintenance. It was good they didn’t go to waste. This would also give the Shafise tribe the opportunity to showcase some of their traditional recipes along with blends.

Though a hole-in-the-wall, it was contemporary chic and polished, a message of modern class that she knew would hook the landlord’s interest. The floor was tiled in sleek black, and the walls painted white, brought to life by voguish artwork. Framed in thick, black frames, the paintings were as soothing as they were stylish. They depicted modern abstract, turquoise beaches, and desert blossoms. A few were pieces that might have been pretentious in another setting, but somehow felt innocently trendy here. Two of them were offset by equidistant sandstone bowls resting in tasteful square impressions on the wall. Sweeping glass sculptures ribboned with solid colors, some glittering in the light, added bold character. Most of them were feet tall and stood on the floor.

On each black chair was a plush, pale yellow cushion. Filled with sand, sea glass, and shells, a candle resting in a glass bowl embellished every table, along with a daisy in a white vase. A handful of firebloom petals were strewn about them. 

Outdoor seating overlooking the beach waited behind a thick curtain. It ironically had more space than inside. Fit for a posh vacation photograph, a pergola strung with lanterns hung over the display, with translucent lilac curtains draped to the sides. To keep customers warm in the chilly desert evenings, a gemstone fire pit sat in the middle. The area was lined with potted, flowering cacti and a low wicker-weave fence. In place of daises were 

One task remained before it opened: Reach out to old friends.

[writing-up-dreams]

🌱 How to break a curse

-

Call for the angels, archangel michael.

Say this prayer:

Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the hour of conflict. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil may God restrain him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God thrust Satan down to hell and with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls. Amen.

-

Bath for detoxing and cleansing bad energy and breaking curses.

Dragons blood. Crush into a fine powder. (Builds power and energy, breaks curses and removes bad vibes around you)

2 full cups of epsom salt (salt and water is a powerful form of baptism and detoxing)

Cinnamon

Drops of patchouli

1/2 cup of papaya leaves

Sprinkle of black pepper

Pray and bless the water. Tell the archangels, spirits and devine what you need and want before taking the bath. And make sentences with the words "I AM" and as you step into the water it will be the old version of you but you will be baptized and born as new, the curse is going to be completely removed.

After that, drain the water and clean the bathtub and shower, clean yourself brand new.

Splash holy water on your body.

Thank the angels, spirits and the divine for working with you.

And set intensions in your life, like love, health, family or friendship, something you want to have within your life and to attract and build.

-

Light a candle for archangel Michael.

There are no questions that are off-limits to the angels. You can ask for whatever it is that you want- whether it be healing, or blessings, protection, or other gifts from God.

Set a time for every Tuesday (maybe set an alarm to go off on your phone to remind you) to say the following prayers:

"St. Michael, I resort to your protection and in my faith offer this light {a candle} which shall burn every Tuesday. Comfort me in difficulties and tho lodging in the house of our savior, intercede for me and my family that we will be able to hold God close to our hearts and be provided for in all of our necessities. I beseech you to have infinite pity in regard to the favors that I ask of you (name them) that I may be able to overcome all difficulties as you did the dragon at your feet."

Say 3 'Hail Marys'

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now until the hour of our death. Amen"

Say 3 "Glory Be's"

"Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit as it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be world without end. Amen."

This prayer is to be said for nine (9) Tuesdays in succession and each Tuesday a candle is to lighted and a copy of this prayer to left in the church to help another soul in distress and support the devotion to St. Michael.