#speaking of things that inflict damage on your body and soul

[yourfavaschips]

I read your blog daily like the news, can you assign ruffles flamin hot bbq by jayson tatum to raise awareness for the damage these fucking things inflict on your body and soul

Ruffles Flamin' Hot BBQ by Jayson Tatum would be Dante from DmC: Devil May Cry!

[k-s-morgan]

Those Gentle Slopes: Snippet

Thought to share a final snippet before the posting of the chapter! Have some protective Sebastian and unhinged Ciel)) Also, I have to say that when I'll be writing this chapter from Sebastian's POV, it will be probably creepier than anything that happened so far. He broke my plans and started getting a lot more physical than I expected, having a couple of unplanned realizations. Huh. I love the mystery writing.

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

“Sebastian,” he barked. His commanding tone must have reached some part of Sebastian’s brain because he turned his head slightly, but he still didn’t let go, and this was infuriating as much as it was flattering.

Looked like not sensing his soul didn’t make Sebastian any less willing to protect him. He still got angry on Ciel’s behalf — angry enough to ignore his orders and common sense.

Good. But unacceptable. If speaking didn’t work…

Ciel stepped out from behind Sebastian and wrapped his hand around his wrist. Shivers of strange, heady heat blossomed all over his body when he sank into the inviting unnatural energy Sebastian was radiating, feeling it sing under his touch. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his head cool, but fortunately, Randall’s gurgling sounds helped a little.

And it seemed like he’d already succeeded in something — Sebastian was staring at him now, the deadly redness of his stare quickly softening to a more human shade. Holding his gaze, Ciel tapped against his wrist in rapid succession, recreating the secret language they had devised a long time ago.

Stop. This is an order. You’re still mine, you have to obey me.

He wasn’t certain it would work any better than his verbal commands did, but something about his new approach must have finally gotten through. Sebastian released his grip and let Randall crash to the floor like a sack of sand. He seemed far more interested in Ciel now — one of his hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and another one touched his chin, tilting his head back to reveal his neck.

The futility of this evaluation was blatantly apparent. Randall hadn’t managed to touch him, so whatever damage Sebastian was checking him for couldn’t be there. It was absolutely ridiculous, but for some reason, Ciel didn’t protest. He stood there patiently, allowing Sebastian to examine him to his satisfaction.

Finally, Sebastian hummed in contentment and let him go. Almost. His fingers slid down to Ciel’s wrist and stayed there, holding it firmly but unobtrusively. His attention returned to Randall’s panting form, and this time, Ciel caught the moment when the darkness flared in his eyes.

“Let me make one thing clear,” Sebastian uttered. A smile touched his lips, but it was as far from what a smile was supposed to be that even Ciel found it disturbing. “If you attempt to inflict any kind of damage on my Master again, the next time your family sees you, you will be chopped into more pieces than your daughter will be able to count. Perhaps I will feed your liquefied remains to her. Would you like that?”                

The desire for something Ciel couldn’t identify took over his rational thoughts again. He almost swayed on his feet, his skin burning, his lips parting in a pleased sigh. More waves of joy crashed into him when Sebastian placed his shoe on Randall’s ankle and pressed against it carefully. His movements seemed feather-light, but the bone cracked anyway, followed by Randall’s pained shout.

“It’s not broken,” Sebastian noted disdainfully. “Consider it your warning. You will leave this house and you will not bring anything that happened here up with anyone. Because I know where you live, and I know how to slip into places unnoticed.” The sharp grin he gave Randall was downright frightening, but Ciel felt like he could drown in it. He shook his head, hoping it would be enough to sober him up. His body was behaving in an increasingly odd way, and it was getting tedious to make sense of its incomprehensive needs and demands.

Wheezing but trying to keep all the sounds locked in his mouth, Randall stood up. He nearly fell down, a pained grimace twisting his red face. What was even more fascinating was the wetness of frustrated tears shining in his eyes. The sight was completely unprecedented, and Ciel stared at it greedily, committing every inch of it to memory.

“You may not believe it right now,” Randall said, his voice hoarse, “but there will be a reckoning. One day, the both of you monsters will die, and I’ll become the last thing you see.”

[cloudygreece]

With the time we have left together

Pairings| mute!Fem!readerxpostwar!Giyuu

READING TYPE| ANGST~some fluff (no happy ending) POV: 3rd person Fem!reader

SYNOPSIS| You finally get the life that you had always deserved. Unfortunately it will only last for 4 years. The mark of thr slayer slowly draining the life from your soul and body as you draw nearer to your impending doom, however you get to spend what little time you have left with the people you love.

CW! Themes of pregnancy, childbirth and death are present in this writing! (Its also pretty cringy, I wrote this at 2am)

A/N: just to clarify, y/n became mute due to an injury that was inflicted on her during the fight with muzan, one of her two vocal strips were severely damaged causing her to lose her ability to speak. Yes she did learn sign language after healing. (Italicized texts means y/n is signing) Y/N was a Hashira, there are also mentions of a Tsuguko (an apprentice of a Hashira) she will be present throughout the whole story (please give them a name if you haven't made one. You can use mine if u can't figure one out :D ~ Hanami Ito <3). Giyuu is a bit older than you! However the time of death due to the slayer mark never specified how long after turning 25 until they die.

Word count 1.5k

Key

(Y/n)-Your name

(T/n)-Tsuguko name

(B/s)-Breathing Style

⋆｡°·☁︎Hope you enjoy☁︎·°���⋆

It was unfortunate. Her romance with her one true love started off so much later than she expected. By the time they were married, they both had only a year or two left; that was the price of the mark. The mark that both of them used to defeat the demon lord four years ago...

Two months have passed... ...and the former (B/s) Hashira is still healing. However, with her vocal cords and her breathing being weak, she could never explore the world outside of Japan. All she could do was stay at her shared home with her former Tsuguko (T/n) and Giyuu Tomioka, the former water Hashira that she once fought the demon lord head-to-head with. 

It was difficult at first for all of them. None of them were able to communicate with (Y/n) about her thoughts, wants, and needs. Any noise she could make sounded like gurgled croaks and strained whispers, too soft or incoherent for anyone to understand. She had to learn sign language, and so did the others if they wanted to know what she was saying. Tirelessly, they all learned together; it was a good thing she didn't lose her hearing as well. Tomioka, with only one hand, felt relieved that (Y/n) didn't get injured even more. As time grew on, they became fluent in sign language, being able to interpret her words to others through the flow and movement of her hands. 

Five months passed after the war ended... ...(Y/n), with nothing else to do, started to take an interest in baking. She would always find herself giving the sweets that she made to the last remaining slayers, who were finishing up their final recoveries. The three of them realized that the former (B/s) Hashira had a talent for cooking and baking.

With the money she and the other two had saved, they all opened up a bakery. They produce delicious breads and desserts. The trio had to spend countless nights trying to find the perfect recipes for them to sell, even though it caused some sleepless nights. It was the perfect life compared to what they endured in the earlier years of their lives for the two who formed the mark. As time grew on, their bonds grew ever closer, making it seem as if they were a family. However, the two slayers who formed the mark were becoming a bit fonder of each other. 

1 year and 8 months had passed after the war had ended...  ...when (T/n) noticed that the two started to catch feelings for one another. (T/n) would find ways to excuse themselves from the presence of their master and her unrequited lover, always leaving them alone as they held somewhat silent conversations with each other about the most mundane things.

2 years and 6 months had passed after the war had ended... ...and they finally tied the knot.

"Finally! Took you guys long enough! When's the wedding?"

(Y/n)'s hands flew around excitedly as she signed

"Oh, probably in 5 months! We'll make the cake, and we know where we're going to do our wedding and who we're inviting. We just need to figure out the flowers, catering, and our attire."

(T/n) has never seen their master this happy before. They could almost hear the excitement bubbling from her throat as she tried to speak. The burn and slash marks on her neck, covered loosely by her scarf, reminded the apprentice of how little time the couple had left. They cast their eyes down to avoid eye contact between the two; they knew it was inevitable, and yet they were able to find love with one another. 

Suddenly Tomiokas voice broke the silence

"(T/n) We both understand your concerns about our health, and we are very aware of how much time we have left. Don't stress yourself out too much."

His tone was very dull, but his eyes weren't. His dark blue eyes showed kindness and reassurance toward the young apprentice. As Giyuu spoke, his one arm wrapped around her (Y/n) side, pulling her body closer to him. They both starred at each other lovingly, before walking over to (T/n) to give them a nice, warm, reassuring hug.

2 years and 11 months had passed since the war had ended... ...The cherry blossoms fell as (Y/n) walked down the pathway towards Tomioka. Her eyes darted across the aisle as she saw those in the corps who she had fought together with to finally bring peace to their homes. All of them were smiling as they watched her with the man she always dreamed of, officially joining together as man and wife. Words (and signs) of joy, affermation, sadness, and hope were given to one another. Finally, they slowly approach each other to signify their unity with a kiss. As flower petals coated the air with a flurry of pinks, blues, and whites, everyone cheered as the pair finally had one another.

3 years and 6 months had passed since the war had ended... ...The couple both started to show signs of weakening. (Y/n) began to cough and wheeze if she did too much work, while Giyuu became much more lethargic and weaker. However, the small family was blessed, with another member soon joining them. 

"(T/n), I'm pregnant!"

(T/n)'s jaws hung low in shock as they dropped the pan full of freshly baked bread. (Y/n) quickly scampered towards her to help pick up the food. She signed slowly as she tried to calm her apprentice down.

"I haven't told Giyuu yet. Let's surprise him!"

The woman's face brightened the whole room as the two of them baked a small cake with the Kanji saying 'omedetou'. After closing down the shop, (T/n) called over Giyuu as the two showed him the cake.

"Huh? Why are you guys saying congratulations? Who are we Congratulating..??"

He looked at the cake bewildered, before he slowly looked up at (Y/n).

"Are you.."

She nodded eagerly before she was swooped up by her husband. Even with one arm and his strength weakening, he was still able to pick her up so easily. Happy giggles erupted from the mute woman. It was hoarse, but...she hasn't laughed in such a long time. It still sounded like how it used to. The sight of hearing her laugh after 3 years couldn't help but draw out tears in (T/n) and Giyuu. After a few minutes, everyone was bawling their eyes out. 

I wish this happiness could last forever..

It's been 4 years and 3 month since the war ended..

A hoarse wail could be heard from the couple's room. (T/n) rushed ahead of Giyuu, who was struggling to walk in the direction of the cries of his wife. As they entered the room, (T/n) could see (Y/n) clutching the sheets of her bed, her knuckles turning white, and her hair disheveled as strands fell from her loose ponytail. The midwife next to her was coaching her through every step, calling over (T/n) to bring the towels that they had brought. Fear clouds the apprentice's eyes as they see their mentor's head fall back onto her pillow, her breathing shallow as she looks at her apprentice with tearful eyes. Her mouth slowly opened through hastened breaths.

"Today's.. my....birthday...."

She croaked out. Suddenly, Giyuu weakly enters the room. His footsteps were heavy as his knees fell onto the tatami mats next to his wife's mattress. Her hands fiercely wrap around his as she screams, pushing one final time before a small cry could be heard from around the room. 

(T/n) just stood there. The realization hits them as they watch the baby being treated by one of the midwives. 'birthday..? Well, then that means she's...'

Their gaze reverts back to their mentor's body, her breath becoming more labored as the light in her eyes slowly starts to fade. Her hands gingerly passed by Giyuu's cheek as she smiled at him weakly. She mouthed something; (T/n) couldn't quite see it from where they were standing; in fact, they couldn't move at all; all they could do was watch as (Y/n) passed. Giyuu, now realizing what's happening, called one of the midwives frantically as they tried their best to resuscitate her. 

'She turns 25 today..'

(T/n) already knew it was useless.

It's been 3 months.

There (T/n) stands in the rain, a baby strapped tightly against their body with a white cloth. The soft snore coming from the child brought warmth throughout their whole body as they stood in front of two graves.

A soft voice could be heard from behind.

"I'm sure Giyuu-san and (y/n)-san would be happy to see you taking care of their child."

Four other people slowly approached the apprentice and the baby. Tears streak down their faces as they place flowers on the graves. (T/n) sniffled and nodded as they turned towards them, their own eyes full of sadness as they watched the last remaining bloodline of the two former Hashira's being swaddled in the former tsuguko's arms.

"Thank you Tanjirou. I'm sure they both enjoyed what time they had left. Together."

Closing notes~ this kinda cringy :)

⋆｡°·☁︎requests are open☁︎·°｡⋆ ~Sincerely, Greece

[unionizedwizard]

OC asks for Irma: bound, hunt, skin?

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

she was made to take part in an attempted primal summoning as a child (as the catalyst), surviving only thanks to hydaelyn's intervention (whisking her away in the lifestream opening cutscene-style before irreversible damage to her soul could be inflicted). sort of like a reverse lightwarden corruption situation (this is a secret tool that will help us later!). her soul was flooded with umbral-aspected aether (lightning, specifically), and she was very notably not meant to survive - the fact that she did, as well as the circumstances in question (the triggering of the blessing of light), were unexpected, but deemed interesting by the ritual's instigator, which is why he let her get away :)

of course, although she lived, she didn't escape unscathed; her soul was stabilised and solidified by the power of stasis that hydaelyn embodies, but it was, as it were, sundered again almost all the way through, so her soul is "cracked". this manifests as an enhanced affinity for black magick & offensive spellcraft in general, but with a rather heavy drawback: she can't wield healing magick (at least not in the traditional way), a condition which she learned about when she tried to train as a conjurer post ARR (whenever she tries to meditate/enter the state that allows the caster to heal, she falls unconscious). (this was somewhat remedied right before EW). also, as a secondary (and minor) consequence, her eyes (which were originally green) turned black. this whole ordeal (as well as the years that preceded it) was wiped from her memory as a consequence of the enormous amount of energy that passed through her body so her earliest (and very hazy) memories are of the aftermath, when she was sent to ul'dah (or smuggled would be the more accurate verb lol), with no idea that the name on her passport was not her original name...

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

two things: the everpresent, looming shade of Duty; and the gnawing belief that she's actually a monster, deep down, because of her combat capabilities (and inclinations). (both are linked and feed into each other). zenos' monologue at the royal menagerie hit her, and badly so, because he expressed his lust for combat in the exact same terms she'd been using - privately, not speaking her mind to anyone, and she's always been terrified of having her most deeply-seated fears be confirmed, and she hates zenos (more than she ever hated anyone) because deep down she's convinced he's right about her, and about the both of them. she's always on the alert and has trouble letting her guard down long enough to fall asleep also :)

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

irma has always favored discreet, highly concealing, multi-layered clothes (fortunately, mage robes are generally fitting for this purpose). she has also never believed herself beautiful so she never really tried to pay attention to her appearance, though she does make a point of personal pride in wearing well-cut, good quality (and more importantly, clean) garments. she owns some perfume but doesn't have many opportunities to use it. if asked about it, she'll say in a very matter-of-fact way that "she knows where her strengths lie and acts accordingly". her only concession to vanity has always been her hair, which is an object of pride and that she takes great care of (as much as she can with the life she leads, anyway...). she almost always wears gloves (worn black leather ones) and refuses to show skin as a rule (she considers it a show of vulnerability). there is a deep, lingering shame about her as a whole, that she masks with rigid efficiency & a stoic mindset

as for the second part of the question: as indicated above, the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of herself has been thoroughly expunged from her memory (until post EW that is). denial and repression ARE her most practised skills at this point!

[tokiro07]

So Ijust binged your undead unluck review tag and I realized something about Unchange specifically but could apply to all external type negators, rather than the internal type (I think that's the words they use? Basically, this would apply to the negators who affect things besides themselves, but not the ones who only affect themselves).

Negation powers are focused around the soul, as we see when Ichico's soul leaves her body, she can sleep because Unsleep is attached to her soul. But that also means that the soul and the body are separate in the UU world.

So Gina's Unchange supposedly doesn't work on her own body. But I have to wonder... What if she thought of her soul as the "interior" and thus her body is an "external". So she can't Unchange her soul, but she *could* Unchange her body. Theoretically, she could have that forever young body she wants.

And this could apply to anyone with a external-type negation power, though I don't think anyone would get as much use out of it as Gina. For some people, like Chikara and Shen, that probably wouldn't do much unless they had a mirror, and for people like Fuuko (where activation requires touch) it would just be a hassle. But Gina and Isshin could use that technique to basically make themselves invincible.

And we do kind of see this happen with Rip! Now, Rip is an interesting case, because I don't know if he counts as an external or internal negator. Is it that "everything HE rips can't be repaired again" (internal) or that "EVERYTHING he rips can't be repaired again" (external)? I'm leaning towards external-type, as his negation seems to affect not just things he directly does, but things indirectly done by him. But if external negators can't un-whatever themselves, how did Rip mess up his eye?

I know that Gina doesn't need to be forever young, and honestly most external-types probably don't have any use for using their negator power on themselves, but still. We see how internal types can expand to other things (Sean turning himself and his brothers invisible, Fuuko imbibing her favorite things with unluck), so it would be interesting to see the use of souls to level up external types as well.

This is a concept that I spend a lot of time thinking about, and the conclusion that I've come to is that "external" and "internal" targetting are just as up to interpretation as any other facet of the Negator power system, though some Negator abilities will inherently make that trickier than others

Unrepair, for example, targets damage as a concept rather than the person or object that the damage is inflicted upon. We are explicitly shown that this means that Rip can use Unrepair on himself just as easily as he can use it on others because he isn't targetting himself, he's targeting the wound

Sean, as you pointed out, pushes this concept even further in that he should be an internal-targeter, but because he can expand his range to include things that are "his," he can extend Unseen to people that are "his family", invalidating or negating our previous understanding of the internal/external delineation by redefining external targets as within his personal internal world

However, Gina is a bit of a special case. Based on our understanding of Unrepair and Unseen, under normal circumstances you would be right, Gina should be able to target her body if she views it as a separate external entity to her soul, but Gina has an additional, unrelated rule that is not so easily broken: she cannot target living matter. We know that Unchange can target inert organic matter, as Billy was able to target Andy's blood blade after it had left his body, but we are explicitly told that Gina can't use Unchange on a person directly. She can use it on the air around them to keep them from speaking, moving or breathing, but she can't paralyze someone by directly targeting their body

If she could do that, I think that she would end up recreating Undead; by targeting her cells, she could ensure they never die or take damage, making her not just perennially youthful, but also making her literally invincible. Even if she would be affected by mental fatigue, all she would need to do is use Unchange on her brain so that her synapses never burn out or lose focus, ensuring that she's able to keep up the facade in perpetuity

It would take an incredibly broken ability and turn it into one that is completely unparalleled, and that just couldn't be allowed to happen

That said, I have also talked in the past about how Undead could be reinterpreted to allow it to be used as an external healing technique, so now seems like a good time to remind folks of that. Basically, I've suggested that if Andy were to give anyone else a blood transfusion, so long as he still considers it to be his blood, it would presumably be able to travel to whatever part it needs to go and repair any potentially deadly damage that would cause its current host to die, or at least do so in the time before the separated blood can disappear

This should at least be feasible with Fuuko if we use the same logic as Sean, with Fuuko "being a part of Andy." He already managed to sustain her by hooking up his veins to her heart, it would only take a slightly further leap in logic to allow him to heal her personally if that sort of thing happens again

[catholicreading]

The Prophecies and Revelations of Saint Bridget (Birgitta) of Sweden

Book 1

The words of our Lord Jesus Christ to His chosen and dearly beloved bride, Saint Bridget, about the proclamation of His most holy Incarnation and the rejection, desecration and abandonment of our faith and baptism, and how He bids His beloved bride and all Christian people to love Him.

Chapter 1

“I am the Creator of the heavens and the earth, one in Divinity with the Father and the Holy Spirit. I am the one who spoke to the patriarchs and the prophets and the one whom they awaited. For the sake of their longing and in agreement with my promise, I assumed flesh without sin and concupiscence, by entering the womb of the Virgin like the sun shining through the clearest gem. For just as the sun does not damage the glass by entering it, likewise the virginity of the Virgin was not lost when I assumed Manhood. I assumed flesh in such a way that I did not have to forsake my Divinity, and I was no less God - with the Father and the Holy Spirit, governing and upholding all things - although I was in the womb of the Virgin in my human nature. Just as brightness is never separated from fire, so too, my Divinity was never separated from my Humanity, not even in death.

Thereafter I allowed my pure and sinless body to be wounded from the foot to the head, and to be crucified for all the sins of mankind. That same body is now offered each day on the altar so that mankind might love me more and remember my great deeds more often. But now I am totally forgotten, neglected, despised, and expelled as a king is from his own kingdom and in whose place the most wicked robber has been elected and honored.

I have indeed wanted my kingdom to be within man, and by right I should be King and Lord over him, for I made him and redeemed him. However, now he has broken and desecrated the faith which he promised me in his baptism, and he has broken and spurned my laws and commandments which I prescribed and revealed to him. He loves his own will and refuses to hear me. In addition, he exalts the most wicked robber, the devil, above me and has given him his faith. The devil really is a robber, since he steals for himself, by way of evil temptations, bad councils, and false promises, the human soul that I redeemed with my blood. But he does not do this because he is mightier than me; for I am so mighty that I can do all things with a word, and so just, that even if all the saints asked me, I would not do the least thing against justice.

But, since man, who has been given free will, willfully rejects my commandments and obeys the devil, it is only right that he also experiences his tyranny and malice. This devil was created good by me, but fell by his own wicked will, and has become, so to speak, my servant for inflicting vengeance on the workers of evil.

Yet, even though I am now so despised, I am still so merciful that whoever prays for my mercy and humbles himself in amendment shall be forgiven his sins, and I shall save him from the evil robber - the devil. But to those who continue despising me, I shall visit my justice upon them, so that those hearing it will tremble, and those who feel it will say: “Woe, that we were ever conceived or born! Woe, that we ever provoked the Lord of majesty to wrath!”

But you, my daughter, whom I have chosen for myself, and with whom I now speak in spirit: love me with all your heart - not as you love your son or daughter or parents, but more than anything in the world - since I, who created you, did not spare any of my limbs in suffering for your sake! Yet, I love your soul so dearly that, rather than losing you, I would let myself be crucified again, if it were possible. Imitate my humility; for I, the King of glory and of angels, was clothed in ugly, wretched rags and stood naked at the pillar and heard all kinds of insults and ridicule with my own ears. Always prefer my will before your own, because my Mother, your Lady, has, from the beginning to the end, never wanted anything but what I wanted.

If you do this, then your heart shall be with my heart, and it will be inflamed by my love in the same way that anything dry becomes rapidly inflamed by fire. Your soul shall be so inflamed and filled with me, and I will be in you, so that everything worldly becomes bitter to you and all fleshly lusts like poison. You will rest in the arms of my Divinity, where no fleshly desires exist, but only spiritual delight and joy which fill the delighted soul with happiness - inwardly and outwardly - so that it thinks of nothing and desires nothing but the joy which it possesses. So love me alone, and you will have all the things you want, and you will have them in abundance. Is it not written that the oil of the widow did not decrease until the day the rain was sent to earth by God according to the words of the prophet? I am the true prophet! If you believe my words and follow and fulfill them, the oil - joy and jubilation - shall never decrease for you for all eternity.”

Read Ahead

[belamuse]

40 is a Whole Vibe.

I recently turned 40.

And while I am a lover of birthdays (a birthday diva, if you will) this particular birthday stirred up more emotions than I expected.

I heard from friends who had either celebrated the big 4-0 already or would be this year, and one word kept popping up: fear.

A part of me understood— but what I was feeling was the exact opposite. I felt calm, confident, eager to step into this new phase.

And, well, that freaked me out a bit.

When I sat down to work through these feelings, I realized that while it’s healthy to “feel the fear and do it anyway,” it’s equally as healthy to accept (and celebrate) when fear isn’t part of your equation.

I realized this: 40 is a whole vibe.

She is different, but not in a magical, “I woke up like this” way. The change has been gradual, hard-earned.

She is calm, secure, more herself than she’s ever felt, even though she knows that who she is is always growing.

She harbors no fear of aging, of reaching an arbitrary number that for years was meant to signify impending doom. A crisis. An ending. A loss of something… of youth.

She instead sees this milestone as a reckoning, a revolution. The start of her Act II.

She sees the changes in the mirror— the belly that’s a little softer than it used to be, the lines on her face and neck that seem more pronounced than they did even a year ago, the grey hair that looks as unruly as she feels inside— and instead of obsessing, she knows she has a choice.

She knows she can either give in to the nagging thoughts that want her to hate herself for no longer being 20, or she can prioritize the beauty that comes with wisdom and experience.

She embraces the fact that on any given day, her soul, her heart, and even her body can feel seven or 14 or 21 or 33 or 56 or 80 years old. That our physical age is a matter of biology but our mental age, our emotional age, and our soul age are all a matter of mindset.

She is calm in the face of change, knowing all the transformations she’s been through to get here.

She lights her candles and burns her sage and reads Pema Chödrön and knows her sun sign and prays to the spirits she knows are watching over her. She connects to the spiritual practices she was raised with, and the ones she’s found along the way, because she understands that we are more than just our physical bodies.

She goes to therapy because she knows that she can’t control what happens to her but she can control her reactions.

She laughs as much as possible and speaks passionately about her interests and sings loudly and sometimes obnoxiously, especially to the corny pop songs she loved when she was 15. She loves the things that call to her heart, and doesn’t care if others don’t understand.

She still has more questions than answers but she’s learning to be okay with the unknown.

She can acknowledge the damage her past relationships have caused— the pain inflicted by men she loved or thought she loved or wondered if she could love, and friends who chose to prioritize pettiness or jealousy or their own emotional shortcomings— and still thank them, silently, (as they were never meant to hear the words) for everything that pain allowed her to create in life.

She also knows that she can be grateful for the person, for the lessons, and still let a healthy dose of anger linger, even if just to make sure that she never allows herself to accept less than what she deserves.

She creates her own family without the confines of anyone’s expectations, knowing that blood doesn’t matter if respect isn’t present.

She has learned that blocking and deleting and going no contact aren’t about throwing blame around or holding a grudge. They’re about boundaries and knowing your worth.

She loves hard, even when it’s scary, especially when it’s scary, and knows to demand the same from those who love her.

She refuses to regret, instead choosing to learn.

She is learning to be a better partner. To be aware of her triggers, her trust issues, her short fuse, her clinginess. To not fall back on old habits and unhealthy coping mechanisms. To never step fully into the role of victim or perpetrator, but to recognize that we all have the capacity for both and what matters is how we show up for each other and ourselves each day.

She is learning to accept that we all give and receive love differently. That no two people saw love modeled the same way. That what might seem like a mundane, daily task to her is actually a declaration of love from someone else. That if she chooses to pay attention, she’ll realize that these small acts of love are present in almost every moment of her life.

She may not be a mother yet, or anymore, at least not in the traditional sense, but she is warm and nurturing and aims to be a soft place to land for those she loves. And she finally knows, with a confidence she’s never felt before, that one day she’ll hear the precious sound of a small voice calling out for Mom.

She feels at home in this confidence, in this unflinching belief in herself and what she is capable of. In her ability to build and create, to thrive and overcome, to ride the wave of acceptance and change.

She knows there are days, moments, when it’s 1,000 percent okay to not give a f*ck. To focus on herself, her needs and wants. To focus on doing nothing but what brings her peace.

She also knows there are days, moments, where she needs to step up for others, for the world. Not out of obligation but out of responsibility, care, and a desire to make things better.

She cries for no reason, for every reason.

She cries because the world is full of pain and every day is a reminder that we no longer know how to show each other basic kindness.

She cries because the world is far more beautiful than her heart can handle and every day is a reminder that we are surrounded by goodness.

She cries because she has felt grief seep into the darkest corners of her heart. She has watched those who have loved her since birth take their last breath. She has stood, cold and shaking, surrounded by friends as they say a final goodbye to one of their own. She has stared in her dog’s eyes, knowing that in a few days his body would no longer be earth-side.

She understands that part of being human is feeling it all: the deepest hurts and the most profound joys. The sadness that breaks our hearts and the laughter that slowly pieces it back together. And then forgiving ourselves when feeling it all leaves us clumsy and overwhelmed.

She knows that true forgiveness is about healing herself and not an open invitation to let those who hurt or disrespected her back in, armed to inflict more pain.

She is still learning to forgive herself for the mistakes and missteps she’s made. For the moments she hurt and disrespected others. For the moments she trusted others’ opinions more than she trusted her own intuition.

She finally, thankfully, recognizes that even on the days when she felt like she was getting left behind— literally running late for her own life— every experience, every moment, every interaction has always been beautifully on schedule.

She knows that the destination may be fuzzy, and she may not have a map, but she has arrived.

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Daily Devotionals for April 20, 2023

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 14:28-30(KJV):

28 In the multitude of people is the king's honor: but in the want of people is the destruction of the prince.

29 He that is slow to wrath is of great understanding: but he that is hasty of spirit exalteth folly.

30 A sound heart is the life of the flesh: but envy the rottenness of the bones.

Thought for the Day

Verse 28 - Proverbs records many situations from the standpoint of the Word of God. A sign of God's favor upon Israel was the birth of many children and an increasingly large population. In America, we have reduced our population by millions because of abortion. This has hurt us in many ways, one being a loss in our workforce and disproportionate age groups. (The older population will soon outnumber the youth, and because our Social Security system is supported by new workers enrolling in it, this means there will not be enough contributions to support it).

However, the greatest damage to our country is the curse of death that is upon it because of abortion. Because millions of innocent babies have been murdered, we will reap what we have sown. We are told in Genesis 9:6-7 and Deuteronomy 27:25 that the penalty for shedding innocent blood is that we will experience the shedding of blood in our nation.

Any country with a small population has difficulty defending itself and is deprived of the talents that many people contribute and inspire in others. Evil kings can rule so badly that their people will flee the country and strangers will not want to settle in it. A king without the support of his people cannot maintain his position. If a ruler does not have his people behind him, it will eventually be to his destruction.

Verse 29 - Whoever is slow to become angry is a man of understanding. The quick-tempered man exposes his folly. He says and does many foolish things; some may not be correctable (Proverbs 14:17 AMP). Hateful, angry words can devastate others and cannot be taken back. Only God can deliver someone from a bad temper and heal the wounds that he has inflicted on others. God will do this for us if we ask Him.

Verse 30 - Doctors have discovered that many physical ailments are due to problems in the soul. Patients who replace negative attitudes with positive ones recover dramatically. The physical body can express envy, anger, and unforgiveness in the form of various diseases. Yielding to anger drains us of energy we could have used productively, whereas walking in love, faith, and forgiveness produces peace of mind and health. Self-control is a fruit of the Spirit. It develops in us as we allow the Holy Spirit to change us. We must ask the Lord to help us to restrain our anger. "Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath: For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God" (James 1:19-20).

Prayer for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, thank you for Your grace that abounds in my life. I am most appreciative of Your daily provisions. Lord, help me to overcome the character flaws in my life. May I be angry at the things You are angry about, but Lord, I do not want to be angry in my wrath. Remove that kind of anger from my life and give me a gentle and patient spirit with all men. Lord, I desire to be controlled by Your Holy Spirit. Bless my brothers and sisters in the Lord, and help them walk in the spirit so that we all may glorify You on earth. I ask in the lovely name of Jesus. Amen.

Steven P. Miller

Jacksonville, Florida., Duval County, USA.

Instagram: steven_parker_miller_1956,

Twitter: @GatekeeperWatchman1, @ParkermillerQ,

https://twitter.com/StevenPMiller6

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Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ElderStevenMiller

#GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller,#Eldermiller1981

[stevenxblackwell]

The silence – the inability to speak and say something was expected. Steven had no doubt in his mind that Alexander would be quiet throughout the exchange. There was not a damn thing that he could say that would make the last years vanish. Even if he did some soul-searching and said he was sorry for destroying his life – that would not mean a damn thing to him. The damage was done and Alex had taken a lot more than he could even begin to wrap his head around. He had given him hope that he could be happy. He of all people should know how it felt to grow up under the shadow of a tyrant. To want their father to show some modicum of love or sentiment toward his own progeny and get nothing. He knew better than most how it felt like to reach out and do everything well and play the role of the perfect son, waiting for a pat on the head… only to come out with nothing. He gave him hope. That even a guy that had grown in such a fucked up family situation would be able to find something special. Find the love and approval he needed and wanted. He had given Alex that and in return – Alex King did the same thing for him. Giving him hope and making him believe that there was a happily ever after at the end of it all. But there was no happy ending. There was just sorrow and emptiness. All that hope and all those dreams were taken away from him – leaving one person completely hollow. There were no words that Alex could say that would remedy the damage he had done. No amount of groveling or begging for forgiveness would give him back the lost years and bring back all the things that were so rudely taken from him. Alex did not speak – predictable. But he kissed him. There was a moment when Steven froze. The moment when their lips met – it was such a massive backlash that his brain completely disconnected from his body. All his brain was ordering his body to do was to push Alex away and punch him so hard that he would shit his teeth for a week. He had no right to do this. How could he even attempt to kiss him after all the damage he had done? What sort of fucked up individual was this? But that was his brain. His body remembered the feeling. The softness of his lips, the gentle touch of his hands. It remembered the pressure against his body, the hunger that turned their insides in turmoil. It remembered how badly he had craved those kisses back when they were together when all the seconds and minutes and hours that he wasn’t kissing Alexander King felt like complete and utter torture. So Steven kissed back.

A rough, unforgiving, and yet needy and longing kiss. With his brain shut down, Steven was feral. Wanting to hurt Alexander back. To bite onto his bottom lip and make him bleed, inflict some amount of pain that would make things… just a tiny bit better… but also feral in the way that he wanted to show Alex what he was missing. What he missed. It was definitely pride talking as Steven pulled his former lover closer to his body, kissing him with the same intensity as an erupting volcano. Show him how much he hated him and how much he wanted to hurt him and destroy everything he held dear – but also show him what he was missing and wondering why did he let him go. Love and hate surely walked hand in hand and Steven knew that better than anyone. And just as quickly as the kiss had started, Steven pulled himself away – wiping his lips to the back of his hand. That… That… “You had no right to do that, Lex. No fucking right!” The mask was cracked. All those breathing exercises to keep him centered and ready to destroy everything Alexander King had ever held dear vanished for a second. For one second – Steven remembered everything, but EVERYTHING that they had shared together. And he remembered how badly he had missed that. How badly a part of him needed it. Alex had shown him the world and he had taken it all away. Who wouldn’t want to have the world again? “You do that again and I swear to God I will break your fucking face so hard that not even a dental record will be able to identify you. You had NO right!”

As Steven spoke so blatantly about Alexander abandoning him it felt like a knife to the gut though he refused to show his emotions. He would be sure to wait until he was alone back home to truly let what he was feeling explode - thankfully nobody would see what a mess he was bound to turn into. He wanted desperately to call this meeting over, to push past the Blackwell brother and forget he even existed as he marched right back to his place - knowing that would be the one safe place on the entire island for him, but he hated that he’d ran so long ago and swore to himself he wouldn’t do it again. Even if this would absolutely kill him - he needed to show Steven here and now that he wasn’t a runner anymore. He hadn’t wanted to run before either, but he wasn’t about to spill all of that to the other, especially not now - there was a time and place for everything, and perhaps the time would never come to have the talk about what truly happened.

His heart skipped a damn beat when Steven stepped forward, invading his space as he licked his lips, and all Alex could do was try his damn hardest to not show how having him so close was making him feel. As Steven began to talk he could only feel his heart being placed in a vice and being cranked until it was tight and so close to exploding. To hear that Steven actually went to therapy, a man as strong as him, being broken down to where he actually wanted outside help to make himself feel better. He wasn’t sure why Steven was telling him all of this right now, but perhaps he really needed to hear it - to know what what he’d done all those years ago did effect Steven, and from the sounds of things it turned him into an absolute monster. Hearing that he’d actually found someone to help him through the pain, that being the man that Alexander must have heard about through the grapevine, though he kept talking about him in past tense.

Something had happened to turn their relationship sour, and Alexander knew that something was him. He had destroyed Steven, turned him into the man who stood before him now, and it was safe to say that along the way he had destroyed himself as well. He thought about Patrick for a moment, about how happy the other had made him, and yet they were taking a break now that Steven was back on the island. There was just something about Steven and Alexander that would always fuck with the other - they were each others greatest accomplishments, and now they were their worst nightmares. At the mention of the others father he couldn’t help but sigh, showing his first bit of emotion as he looked down towards the ground, if only Steven had known the half of it as far as his father was concerned. There was so much more to the story that Steven didn’t know, but would Alexander ever be able to tell Steven the entire story of his father, both their fathers actually?

As Steven spoke of what great life the two of them could have had Alexander was reminded of all the two of them had went through. Man, they had been put right through the fucking ringer, and yet each and every time they remained at one another side. That was until the wedding date, when both of their worlds turned upside down, and now here they stood both remnants of the men they once used to be. It wasn’t until the Blackwell brother leaned in even closer that Alexander found himself faltering, hoping to god that he could hold his composure at least a LITTLE longer. He could still remember so vividly what those lips felt like against his, and the words that were spoken weren’t even being heard because Alexander could only think of one thing. He couldn’t kiss him though, that’s what Steven had wanted, for Alexander to show his weakness when the other was so close to him. He’d pull back, laugh about what a pathetic chump Alex had been, and would probably walk away with nothing more than regrets. Still, as much as he tried to force himself to remain stoic, to not react, he just couldn’t help himself as if by instinct he leaned forward, bringing their lips together in what would soon seal his fate and death.

[elftwink]

btw the sorcerous origin i am currently attempting to homebrew is based around fungus/mushrooms (i am tentatively calling the subclass ‘mycelium soul’; it’s a work in progress). i’m not that far but here are the quirks/manifestations you can have (roll a d4):

You are faintly biolumenscent; you shed dim light out to five feet.

Mushrooms grow on your body like moss on a tree.

You release a cloud of spores when you sneeze, cough, or speak too loudly.

Mouldy or rotten food doesn't bother you, and you have never gotten sick from it.

and here’s the expanded spell list (w/the number on the left indicating sorcerer lvl, not spell lvl):

1st  | Entangle, Inflict Wounds

3rd  | Earthbind, Gentle Repose

5th | Life Transference, Speak with Plants

7th | Blight, Confusion

9th | Cloudkill, Enervation

and that’s all i got so far! i’m still trying to figure out balancing for class features; some of my ideas include resistance/immunity to poison (or maybe necrotic?) damage, advantage on saves against the poisoned condition (or just immunity depending on what level). it’s more complicated but i was also thinking the player could like... gain access to local mycelium networks and learn things like the location/size of any creature within a certain radius (60-120ft? maybe?). or allow them to like... infect creatures with spores that could do certain effects (my thoughts for that were paralysis that functions similarly to a monk’s stunning strike vis a vis saving throws and activation method, or additional poison/necrotic damage that scales with sorcerer level/CHA mod, or some kind of hallucination [in the same vein as spells like phantasmal force or hallucinatory terrain]).

[thotsforvillainrights]

Could you do a scenario of Kai breaking out of jail to see his s/o and once he does, the reader is a bit scared at first, but then they give him all of the loves in the world? I need him.

~Midnight Visitor~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

The downpour outside of the old glass windows began to escalate on the hour as it effectively indicated the oncoming thunderstorm predicted earlier by the weather man on channel 89. In short: it was time to go outside and bring in the lawn chairs and wind chimes so as they don’t end up blown away like the last storm that happened. It was saddening to say the least. The old chairs and chimes had sentimental value since they had belonged to Pops. You still could place your finger on the very moment when you rushed to the room and apologized to him for it. Of course there would be no reply but you had hoped he could hear you. “Ugh not now.” You grumbled as you dragged the chairs in as fast as you could. It seems like bad rain always picks up and becomes all the more heavy during the very moment you need to step outside. 

With the chairs put away in the kitchen and the intricate glass chimes laid carefully across the living room table, you trudged your way to Pops room to check on him and maybe give him something to eat. Every time you had to bring yourself to open the door and hold it together. Every time emotions threatened to burst straight from your chest like some sort of a desperate sob...much like a wounded cat in the street or a child missing their mother so dearly. 

You sighed and went to check the machines, all of which reading at a perfect number as usual. Everything seemed to be in order. “Now if only you would just wake up.” You spoke as you gently ran your fingers in his delicate gray locks. If Pops could see himself in this bed right now then he would be horrified at what was once a strong and adored Yakuza leader. Someone greatly respected and revered, left to nothing but a withering old shell in a hospital cot. By his own son... You felt a tear slip and began furiously wiping your face as more of them threatened to pour down. To be angry was one thing, but to be deeply saddened was another. All of the things you thought you once knew about the man you loved had come to light after the sudden raid on the Hassaikai household. While you were away that day the news shook you to your core. The countless police interrogations and the claims that you helped in this plan were absurd and quite tedious to say the least. Luckily you were let off the hook when a lie-detector test determined you weren’t kidding about your obliviousness. You knew they were a crime mob, but you had no idea your lover was the reason Pops ended up in the coma back then. You especially had no idea that all that time Chisaki had been senselessly abusing that little girl behind your back. Had you known, you certainly would’ve put a stop to it. 

When the day came that the hospital handed Pops over to your care officially, you had begged and pleaded to take in Eri as well. She was the only known tie to Pops so far, and you wanted so badly for the opportunity to undo the damages Chisaki had inflicted on the poor soul. Unfortunately, the HSC and the police deemed you incapable of providing her with the right things she needed (especially concerning her quirk and controlling it). They ended up handing her over to some heroes at UA. When you met the people, you had decided it was for the best. As long as she would be happy and safe.

Despite all of this pain, anger, and betrayal, deep in your heart you still harbored a burning desire for Kai Chisaki. There was no other person that ever wriggled their way under your skin like he did. He could say the same about you, surely he would say it if he were here now. You feel so bad every single time he crosses your mind (which is often). You could only feel that tiny bit of guilt sinking in when the thought of Eri and Pops crosses. Not to mention the fact that the 8 bullets were serving some hefty time in jail/prison as well. Yet you still can’t stop thinking about the way he used to hold you at nights. Just the two of your bodies creating enough warmth to feel right at home with each other. Or the way he’d look and smirk after uttering off some dry and terribly executed joke of his own. Perhaps you’d fall asleep again tonight as you dreamed of your old first date with each other and the ice cream he worked up the nerve to smudge on the tip of your nose with his gloved fingers. The way he offered to massage your back after a long day, the way you basked in the intimacy of a couples shared shower or bath, the way he kisses you after a long mission of being away. His first touch without his gloves, the first time you saw his face without the mask...

“Night Pops. Maybe you could try to wake up tomorrow?” It was wishful thinking as usual. The gently rubbed circled into his old wrinkled hand before checking the machines one more time and heading out of the room. Halfway towards the bedroom you heard an odd sound of heavy footsteps along the back porch area. You paused in the dark hallway and listened intently with the hopes of it simply being an opossum or something of that nature. You could feel your heart drop with alarm when you recognized the poor sounds of the back door being kicked ever so slightly. Without a second thought you quickly scurried down the hall and to the bedroom to retrieve the metal bad that took up residency under the bed after Kai was arrested. 

Protection is always key.

Each sound of the kicks on the door rose ever so slightly in volume as you slowly approached the front end of the house. You quietly slipped out the front door and walked to the back area with the bat held tightly in your hands. Coming this way would be a good way to get the slip on the burglars or intruders kicking at the door. The rain was wild and the wind howled as it whipped bushed and tree leaves around you. In the shadow of the night you were just able to barely make out the form of a man standing hunched over at the back door as he kicked at it. Just as you were about to swing with all the force you were holding inside, the man quickly turned around and peered at you with a look akin to desperation and a mix of relief. “Angel...” You dropped the bat and stumbled backward a bit. Have your eyes deceived you??? Kai was sanding there. Your Kai...You gasped and covered your mouth with both of your hands. Any trace of fear for the moment had been overtaken with each and every emotion you had bottled up since the moment he was taken away. The second you removed your hands to speak, the words were replaced by an ugly sob. You gripped at the sides of your clothes and just stood there sobbing. For a moment if you could hear it through the rain and wind, he was sobbing too.

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

You laid in bed gently rubbing his scalp and admiring how his hair had grown a bit. He nuzzled his head further into you and he rest himself upon your chest. No words were exchanged in the moment because emotions were too high to speak. All you both knew is that you needed this quiet moment to work out how you felt. It was clear you missed him by the way your heart picked up when he shifted ever so often to get comfortable. The fear of him leaving or being taken away again was ingrained in you. As it was for him as well... The thought of being in that Godforsaken prison without so much as an opportunity to have visiting time with you was breaking him apart. The only person he missed more than Pops was you. He had so much regret in this moment for everything he put you two through. All of this could’ve been avoided had he just listened to the old man and followed the path laid out in front of him. All he could feel aside from the relief of seeing you again...feeling and hearing you again...was the pain of losing those closest to him just because of his fucked up decisions. You were not without foul emotion as well in this very moment. All of you anger and regret sat brewing. You wanted nothing more in this moment than to beat him like a rabid dog for causing you, Pops, Eri, and the Hassaikai all this strife. Yet at the same time you wanted to badly to care for him, make love to him, and treat him with all the love he hasn’t received since he was taken away. 

Come early in the morning tomorrow you would have to go see a man on the black market about fake I.D’s and passports. By the end of the week you would have to leave this place with both Kai and Pops in tow even if that meant leaving overseas to a small village or town in the snowy land perhaps. Somewhere where Kai would be unrecognizable and somewhere you could all three start again. 

In the mean time you look down to him and notice he’s fallen asleep, what’s left of his arms wrapped in a desperate attempt to hold you as best he can. You lay a soft kiss along his cheek and get a feel for his newly developed stubble as well. 

A nice nap would have to do for now.

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRNMJH7vHL7APNobUykhK4w?view_as=subscriber

[the-slasher-files]

WHAT A KILLER

BO’S S/O REVEALING THEY ARE ALSO A SLASHER (Vincent is also kind of in this)

TW: blood, gore, killing, swearing (that’s inevitable with Bo)

THIS has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS and idk why I'm so iffy on posting it but hopefully you guys in enjoy this! It's different from a lot of what I write and I do like it, it's just specific lol.. Also the s/o in this, was the bare bones of what Amaria (my oc) started as... hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

Bloodcurdling screams could be heard through the normally silent town of Ambrose as dusk fell. Crimson painted the skies and the asphalt, almost mirroring each other in perfection. Crows calling for the wasted souls Bo obliterated and Vincent could not fix. 

Shuttering at the sounds heard you could not sit there on the old couch any longer, just playing with your fingers trying to push down the urges you felt deep down. They beckoned you like the crows did for flesh. You tried so hard to hide this side but it was only a matter of time you knew, the demon had to rear it’s head eventually if you really wanted to stay in Ambrose forever, and you did. You found the man of your twisted dreams here. 

Before you were held in Ambrose against your will; well in the beginning it was against your will but that quickly faded and you fell madly in love with your kidnapper and the town he held so close; you were a drifter. A wanderer of gypsy’s blood. Never managing to hold in one place for more than 6 months, the only time you had a home was when you were growing up, but having a disgusting home life you left at 16. Fleeing home and trying to run from your growing desires you instead made a treaty with your urges, running towards them, allowing them to show when you were safe and comfortable. 

Bo never knew, all these months as you played the part of his defenceless little housewife it was growing harder to tell him. Of course you wanted to tell him but you were scared of him not trusting you, and terrified of what he would do to you; pretty ironic when you considered doing the same things to him. 

Casually you would throw a joke out there about killing someone or dreaming of snapping someone's neck, however they weren’t jokes to you. It was your wicked reality. Bo was none the wiser, but Vincent, in his quiet embers saw something beyond your delicate eyes, something he saw within himself perhaps. He started to believe your jokes and comments, carefully watching you. Wondering if for once there was a different kind of evil in the town, or if he was becoming the hunted instead of the hunter. 

Climbing the stairs and reaching the bedroom you paused, pulling in a large breath and exhaling, closing your eyes. You sank to your knees against the hardwood, pulling a long black, locked plastic box from under the bed, methodically you played with the lock and swung the top open. Placing your eyes upon the weapon your body tensed but your soul relaxed, a sick war inside your head divided. 

Running your hands along the cold metal of the black blade, you felt home once again, blood could almost be felt on your hands and screams faded in your ears. Hunger grew. A deep pleasure surged through you. 

It was your 18 inch steel black machete; with ridges menacingly flaunting themselves across the top, like a dragon’s spine. The grip you had customized to fit your hand perfectly, needing it to act like an extension of you. It was adorned proudly with a thin rope of bright red fabric tied around the end of the handle, ripped from your first victim’s shirt, it’s tails would drift gracefully in the wind juxtaposing the damage the weapon could do.

Shaky hands picked up the weapon and it seamlessly melting into your grip, your eyes darkened as you rose from the floor, feeling your demons begin to yip and howl like a pack of starving wild dogs ready to feed. Giving yourself another deep breath in and out you kicked the box back under the bed and started down the stairs and out the front door with purpose.   

The hot sticky Louisiana air hit you, flowing in your hair and the tail of fabric on your machete. Screams begin to reach you in swells, coming closer flooding you like the rising tides as a younger woman was running towards you. Under the dim streetlights she could not see what you held, for the black blade melted into the shadows perfectly, as intended. To her you were hope, a way out of her hell, maybe you could help her. The poor thing could not have been more wrong in her panic-stricken judgements. 

You could smell her blood pouring from her injuries Bo inflicted and her desperate cries, it was all too much to you, it was just like blood in the water to a shark, your twisted instincts began to take over. Eyes darkened on the prey that was heedlessly bounding towards you and with one swipe, that was it. Blood was spilt. You had killed again and it felt so damn right. Looking down basking in the sight, she was slit ear to ear, the gash threatening to show the tips of the vertebrae at the back of her neck. The demons were lurching beside you pushing you forward for more. More blood. More affliction. 

Studying the surroundings, Bo was nowhere to be found, unusual for him to let his prey escape his hunt. It was quiet now as you walked on down the street, yellow fluorescents guided your path, and the homes were just barren shapes acting as blinders leading you onward for the man you dreaded seeing at this moment, the demons couldn’t care less about your emotions or feelings, they just carried your body to more gore. 

Rounding the corner, the gas station lights gave up a tangled mess on the ground. Two men were wrestling for some sort of weapon that glinted in the lights above them. Cursing yells, threats and grunts spilled out of both of them, one more than the other of course. Bo always had a mouth on him and no one could ever shut him up, it made you smirk as you approached, but suddenly there was a sharp yell and the stranger was on top of Bo. The man had his back to you and just had eyes for the greasy mechanic, beating him with the weapon you could now see was a wrench. You could feel a burning anger rise from your core and Bo’s howls were just fuel to the fire.   

Steadily making your way up to the two wrecks of people, now standing behind the stranger you forced your long rigid blade through the core of the man, impaling him right under the sternum. Loud clanging of metal rang through the street as the man dropped the wrench as his body went limp, heaving over the weapon within him. With your boot you carefully directed the corpse off your machete and on the asphalt next to Bo, leaving your face sprayed with red from the spine of the blade. 

Your eyes met with saucer wide baby blues causing you to let out a silent breathy laugh licking your lips of blood, sickly savouring the unusual copper. Bo laid on the ground a moment longer just taking in for sure what he saw from his precious angel. Just as you were about to speak but Bo beat you to it.

“I FUCKIN’ KNEW IT!” he gloated hysterically, leaving you more than a little shocked. “I KNEW IT!” Bo got to his feet and almost looked like he was going to do a little dance, you just stood there in the streetlight beginning to laugh, relived but worried as if he had hit his head or something. It was never a dull moment with Bo that’s for sure. 

“Are you ok? like seriously, your beginning to scare me” you puzzled as he sauntered his way up to you cocky as ever. 

“I’m fuckin’ fantastic... I knew there was something in you” he held you against his chest and put his head on yours “something awful behind those beautiful eyes, my little angel of death” you laughed against him as he kissed your crown, then pulled away looking you dead in the eyes. “Why did you think I kept you around all these months? you made me wait a while... and you know how much I hate waitin” 

The words burned in your skull, was that really the only reason? Bo was still unpredictable to you in ways, especially with his dark side. Maybe he was just going to kill you now, maybe he didn’t love you, it could’ve just been the wicked charm he carried effortlessly. 

Something came alive in his blue eyes, scaring you slightly but trying to play it off when you cupped his strong jaw, breathing slowly. 

“People are my specialty baby” he drawled, then pulled you roughly into a kiss. Sweat, oil, cigarettes, and blood coated the kiss leaving you breathless as he often did. 

Bo was right, people were his perfected craft; charming, seducing, lying, playing up the sob story about him and Vincent being in foster care after both parents died. Hell, he could speak French Cajun so he could be more versatile, and charm his way out of any situation in any part of Louisiana. Bo always knew everything you were feeling even before you said it, now that you think back on it. 

“Bo? you still love me?” you hesitating in your question not sure if you wanted the answer. 

This caught his attention as his jaw tensed and eyes hardened “What would make you think I don’t?... sure I would’ve liked to know earlier, sure, but this just makes you better,” he looked you up and down like a predator before coming close to your ear and purring “and hotter.” You yelped as you were suddenly tossed over his shoulder and carried down to the basement of the garage.     

Fidgeting with the lock for a moment he swung the door open and placed you in his chair. “Oh, Sinclair there is a special place in hell for us, and I will meet you there” you laughed as Bo climbed on top of you, clashing his lips against yours, hungry and lustful.  

[redrobin-detective]

Starlit Vigil

Dannymay Day 4: Stars _____________________________

Everything has a story to it, a tale interwoven into it’s very being from it’s birth to it’s death. Sometimes the mystery of the story is as much a story in and of itself. 

Scientists and researchers can’t say when the constellation first appeared in the night sky. It could be seen above Antarctica, near where the edge of the continent meets the Indian Ocean. It confounded a great many people as stars simply didn’t appear out of nowhere. But these did, slowly over the course of several decades sometimes years apart but two appeared within hours of each other. Each new star, eight in total, had a glistening, almost unnatural twinkle to them. The constellation was named Mnemosyne after the Grecian goddess of memory and the stars eight of her nine daughters, better known as the Muses. 

You’ve always had your eyes turned towards the stars and Mnemosyne in particular had always captured your attention. You can’t really explain what it is about those stars that speak to you. Maybe it’s sheer impossibility of their existence. Perhaps it’s the particular beauty of these stars, sometimes appearing to shift in shape and change colors. Or it could be the story behind the stars, the mystery that couldn’t be solved and so imagination filled in the holes left behind.

They say there was a great king, hundreds of years ago. A king who was powerful and kind and helped create the world as we know it. The land of the dead exists and certain people can interact with those beyond it. Technology and understanding have advanced dramatically and, while no life would ever be perfect, there was a general sense of peace that could felt in this world and the next. This king loved our world so much it’s said he plucked the greatest jewels he could find and placed them in the stars where he could watch over and cherish them forever. It’s a sentiment you can understand. 

You study astronomy in school and when you’re given a chance to travel to the Antarctic Circle to study Mnemosyne, you can’t say yes fast enough. The bitter cold and isolation is a small price to pay to see your favorite constellation up close. Maybe when you see it with your own eyes, you can unravel some of the questions people have been asking over the years. Why the goddess of Memory? Why are the stars named after the Muses but missing the muse of astronomy, Urania? What is the true story behind the supernaturally bright stars that appeared out of nowhere?

It’s hard to sleep during the day, partially because it goes against your normal circadian rhythm but you’re also too excited for night to come. For the stars to come out. You bundle up in the warmest clothes, pack your cameras and notebooks and throw the highest quality telescope you can carry over your shoulder. Arriving at the best site for star gazing, you are so delighted by the clear skies and sparkling stars that it takes you an extra moment to realize that you’re not alone.

At first, you think it’s one of the many researchers conducting studies at the pole but it’s soon apparent that this is someone new. Their hair is stark white, almost appearing one with the blustering wind as it’s blown around. You can’t see what they’re wearing because a thick white cape covers them entirely; it has the consistency of freshly fallen snow. Atop their head floats a crown made of pure, crystalline ice. Your eyes widen behind your protective goggles. The existence of ghosts was common knowledge by now but it’s another thing to see one up close. You turn to leave, before the spirit notices you.

“Don’t leave,” he says quietly but despite the roaring of the wind, you can hear him perfectly clear. “You came to watch the stars too, I don’t mind. Mnemosyne is my favorite.”

“Mine too,” you say back without even thinking. “I would love to know their stories.” The ghost turns to smile at you and his eyes are a bright, glowing green without any pupils or sclera. 

“Come, I’ll tell you about them.” You know you shouldn’t. While most spirits aren’t malicious, this one exudes a power you can’t even imagine. But you find yourself stepping closer anyway. You want to hear the stories of the stars and his smile is the warmest thing you’ll find for miles. Somehow you know this ghost won’t harm you. He points up at Mnemosyne and your twin gazes stare up in wonder. 

“They say souls and stars are made of the same ingredients. When I was a boy, I loved this thought. There was something comforting in knowing that, no matter where I went, that I could carry the stars within me,” the ghost explains, looking at you joyfully. 

“But unlike stars, souls are mortal, impermanent,” he says, his smile turning sad. “So I thought, why not put a soul into a star? Then it could last for eons.” He turns back to the stars with a melancholic expression. “Danielle was the first, my little sister. She was always fragile and after only a decade of life, one day she just broke. Her core was too damaged to become a full ghost so I offered her another way to live on. I took the brightness of her smile and made it into a star, into Euterpe. She was the muse of lyrics and poetry, they say she was the ‘bringer of delight’. It suited Danielle.”

“My enemy died next,” the ghost continues. “He hurt me and, moreover, hurt the ones I loved. But he was the only one who truly understood me. His existence comforted me no matter how much bad blood existed between us. His life was full of misfortune, most of it self-inflicted but his fear of death pulled on my heart. My last move in our battle was to make him a star as well, Melpomene, the muse of tragedy. I put him far away from Danielle, I think he’d hurt her.”

“My parents passed a few decades later,” the ghost whispers. “Mom went first, in her sleep. Dad always followed her example so it wasn’t a surprise when Dad followed her in death before the day was done. They were scientists, I think but they loved me very much. Things were tense, I remember being afraid for some reason but their deaths pained me. They were too fulfilled to become ghosts. I grabbed bits of their essence before it dissipated and made the stars Polyhymnia and Terpsichore, the muses of hymns and dance respectively. They were a perfect couple, partners in everything. A song and a dance, always in time with each other.”

The wind rustles the ghost’s cape, he clutches it as if he is cold. You cannot tear your eyes from the the soft grief on his face. 

“Valerie went next, some sort of illness; I can’t remember the details,” the ghost frowned. “She had no desire to become a ghost, no matter how much I asked her to stay. I am King of All Ghosts and yet I got on my knees and begged for some part of her to keep with me. In the end, I stole a bit of her fading spirit and crafted Calliope, the assertive muse, the author of epic poetry. She shines so brightly up there like she had in life.”

“Jasmine died peacefully in her sleep like our mother. She was always protecting me, even in death. Her devotion to knowledge and my wellbeing kept her by my side for many years but it wasn’t enough to last forever. When her spirit was nothing more than wisps, I took her core and placed Clio with the rest of our family. The muse of history, the proclaimer of great deeds fit my older sister well.”

“Tucker and Sam stayed with me the longest. Tucker went first, a quick death from an aged body followed by years as the playful spirit I always knew him as. Sam, my life and my love, passed the same and was my queen in death as she’d been in life. But love can delay death but not deny it and their spirits needed to move on. I kissed them both, my soulmates and made them into stars. Thalia, the muse of comedy and idyllic poems for the light Tucker brought to me. Erato for Sam, muse of love and its poetry for all that she inspired and gave me.”

You see glowing tears running down his face, he holds his hands out to the night sky. His fingers are curved as if wanting to reach and tenderly brush the faces of people long gone. Only they’re not gone completely. You look at the stars with a newfound appreciation. They are no longer pinpricks of long dead light but people who lived and died and yet still lived on in such beauty. If you look closely, you can almost see them. Brushes of red hair, dark rugged skin, the glint of glasses, a flash of amethyst eyes. 

“There’s no Urania,” you say quietly, the wind tossing them. 

“Not yet,” he says longingly, “but soon. The Zone and the Earth are at peace, they won’t need my protection for much longer. When that happens, my spirit will leave this world and join my loved ones in the stars as Urania.” This ghost has been dead for longer than you’ve been alive, longer than many of your most recent ancestors. But his love can still be felt, still burns high above in the sky for everyone to see. What better eternity is there?

“May I tell their story?” You ask and he only nods in response, not taking his eyes off Mnemosyne. You get the feeling he has forgotten about you, caught up in the light of his loved ones shining down on him, waiting. All at once, you realize how late it is, how cold. You leave to return to the research shelter, to write the history of the miracle constellation. 

The stars made out of souls, crafted by love.

Twelve years later, you are not surprised when you look up and see a ninth star in the constellation of Mnemosyne. It glows brightly, twinkling with the other muses as if in conversation. You can only smile through your tears, so profoundly happy that Urania’s lonely vigil is finally over and they have assumed their rightful place among the stars. 

[dainty-baneberry]

12. Missed the Boat

“Mama?” The soft entreaty shot Joyful River to her feet. She hadn’t even heard the front door open, half nodding off into her quilting but she recognized the voice that came from the hallway. “Dainty Baneberry! Dearest!” There was no limit to the delight Joyful River felt to see her Au Ra daughter. Despite how her legs tended to get a bit stiff in the evenings she was across the small living room in a flash to sweep the slender woman into a tight hug. She caught the hiss of pain that Dainty Baneberry tried to suppress and instantly released her daughter to look searchingly into Dainty Baneberry’s face. “You’re hurt.” “T’is all mended but.. It lingers.” Dainty Baneberry admitted. The physical wounds had long since been healed with magic but damage to one's aether could be fixed with ought but time and rest. The soul remembered the damage inflicted causing weakness and pain, even if the body technically no longer bore no mark upon it. Bearing wounds, they called it. 

“We heard such terrible things, is it all over now?” Joyful River asked gently. There had always been a tacit understanding that Dainty Baneberry preferred not to speak of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, or what she did as the Warrior of Light with her adopted family. All had respected this yet in the wake of the Final Days Joyful River could not help herself.

“Aye, Mama.” Dainty Baneberry promised.

It was done and it could never happen again. It would take many thousands of thousands of years for Meteion’s song of hope to finish reverberating through the endless expanse. Life would come again and while it was true that where there is life, there is despair; the Endsinger no longer made its nest at the edge of the Universe, using dynamis to stoke that despair into abject hopelessness. 

“Are you hungry dearest? Come in and put down your things. Rest! I’ll make you something hot and good. Stone soup?” “Sweets?” “Of course.” Joyful River could not suppress a smile. Dainty Baneberry had always loved sugary things and it gladdened Joyful River’s heart to see that this was unchanged. No matter how far, or to where her daughter traveled, no matter what foe she faced, or battle she won. Dainty Baneberry would always want a cup of chocolate above a bowl of soup. “Go into Meek Wind’s old room and find yourself a night shirt, then have a spot on the sofa while I make you a hot caramel.” Joyful River directed as she  moved to the small kitchen that faced the living room. Dainty Baneberry nodded, and moved to do so. Joyful River was quite used to how her daughter tended to speak in words of only 2 or 3 at a time, if she spoke at all and had no issue in holding up more than her fair share of the conversation. Dainty Baneberry returned, looking very much like the child she had once been mistaken for in one of Meek Winds old cotton nightshirts worn as a dress. The couch she climbed onto was large, luxurious and comfortable. It looked somewhat out of place in the small, modestly appointed living room and had been a gift from Dainty Baneberry herself. After her Mama started to have trouble getting up from the low, threadbare couch that had been in the house for longer than many of the children, Dainty Baneberry had had the expensive couch sent from Ishgard itself. 

Count Edmont de Fortemps had personally recommended the style. He himself preferred it when his back got a bit “creaky” in the harsh winters. 

Joyful River smiled again as she approached, carrying a cup of steamed milk that had had two large pieces of caramel melted into it. She had even drizzled a little evaporated milk over top of it, knowing just how sweet toothed Dainty Banberry was. Dainty Baneberry took it with a soft noise of thanks, slightly tipping her head to one side and offering; “Siblings?” It was unusual to find the house so empty, and quiet. This was an opening Joyful River had been secretly hoping for as she joined Dainty Baneberry on the couch and threw a blanket over their legs for them. “Well! Laughing Couerl is on a trading run to Gridania. Supplies for those afflicted by the Final Days. Meek Wind and Defiant Rose traveled with him as potions brewers. I expect them home tomorrow, how surprised they will be to find you here! Pale Dove and the Doman sisters are close by at their homes and….” Dainty Baneberry listened quietly as Joyful River rather joyfully detailed the comings and goings of the sprawling Hellsguard Roegadyn clan. The large family was close and the 20 siblings visited each other, and their Mama often, and brought with them stories and gifts and gossip. It was so very pleasant, Dainty Baneberry thought as she sipped the hot, sweet drink, to hear of things like Sorrowful Mountain’s plans to adopt a pair of girls alongside his natural born daughters, continuing the family tradition.

Or Singing Orchid’s song writing bringing comfort to those in Ul’Dah of late.

In sharp contrast to things like dynamis and averting the Final Days her siblings lived simply, and the wholesome tales of their lives served well to remind Dainty Baneberry of why she did all that she did. After a little while, as Joyful River spoke about Delicate Willow’s latest beau, Dainty Baneberry set aside her empty cup and positioned herself so that she could lay with her head in her Mama’s lap, the rest of her snuggled under the homemade blanket.

Joyful River felt her heart swell practically fit to burst, raising one hand to stroke her daughter's mint green hair gently. She always thought she had missed the boat when it came to really being a Mother to Dainty Baneberry. They had thought her a child, having never seen an Au Ra before and with her total amnesia Dainty Baneberry had seemed quite childlike when Joyful River adopted her in the days following the Calamity. However her mannerisms and behaviors had quickly proven her an adult who did not truly need Joyful River’s mothering or nurturing.  Not like all of the others whom she had birthed, or they had seen not even 10 summers or less when they came to her small home.

It gladdened Joyful River’s heart that of all the places in the world that Dainty  Baneberry could have gone for support, and to recuperate it was to her, her Mama, that she had turned.

[scarletarosa]

Tar Spirits

These are a race of spirits that originate mainly from humans (sometimes other spirit races as well). They are highly malevolent (arguably the most evil race of spirits) and hate all of life, doing whatever they can to destroy it. The following describe what these spirits are like, how to recognize them, and how to defend from them.

Origin: When a human gives into their malevolent impulses during life such as wrath, sadism, selfishness, etc, their spirit gradually becomes more and more corrupted. If they begin to commit unspeakable acts against others and themselves, completely surrendering to their toxic impulses, they have taken the steps towards becoming a tar spirit at death. This intense devotion to malevolence eventually causes the person to go insane and lose all sense of morality; they are even abandoned by their higher selves. When this person dies, they become a tar spirit- a horrendous being made out of tar and pure hatred. They appear as leech-like creatures of tar with many mouths full of sharp teeth, or as strange humanoid beings of moving tar. The leader of these spirits is the serpent-god of evil, Apep. He does not live among them but will often command them to inflict torments on others. These creatures can also come into being from being spawned by Apep himself, dripping from his body due to his extreme corruption.

Mindset and Traits: The tar spirits have corrupted themselves so thoroughly that they believe morality to be an illusion; the act of descent is their idea of ascent. They relish in absolute chaos and suffering, both inflicted upon others and their own selves. They feel nothing but hatred and a desire for pain, taking great pleasure in this twisted way of existing. The tar spirits have lost all sense of love, reasoning, beauty, and compassion; the only thing they now enjoy is pain. The realm in which they live is a place full of flowing tar; many waterfalls of it fill the area and there is an overwhelming feeling of hatred here. It not only feels disgusting to be in, but is also extremely dangerous. The tar spirits all hate one another and when not harming humans, they harm each other by inflicting various tortures and rapes on their own kind. They all both hate and relish in their suffering since it causes them to become further corrupted.  

Since the tar spirits hate all of life, morality, and beauty, they focus only on death and dissolution. Their ultimate goal in existence is to destroy all of life, including their own lives. For this reason, if they come across a person capable of astral projection, they may eagerly encourage the person to fight them. They have appeared rather excited to die, expressing that they are only truly satisfied by the idea of absolute non-existence.  

What these spirits do: The main thing the tar spirits are notorious for is possession. While many have mistakenly attributed this to demons due to them being falsely labelled as evil, these corrupted human spirits are the actual culprits. In order to further corrupt humanity, tar spirits often target individuals who have allowed their minds to weaken from traumatic experiences. Due to theses peoples’ lack of hope and will-power, they are able to be possessed. However, possession is not obvious as how it is typically portrayed; it tends to be much more subtle. In fact, it is so subtle, that the person who is possessed doesn’t even realize that they are possessed. Once a tar spirit locks onto a weakened individual and goes inside their body, they begin to merge with the person’s spirit; which causes the higher self (the Ba, or soul) to abandon the body. This leaves only the Ka (spirit, or essence) behind, yet the person will not notice the difference.  

Once settled, the tar spirit will then begin to attempt at corrupting the person by influencing their mind to do malicious things such as abuse their children/spouse, commit murders, rape, become a cannibal, etc. Sometimes, the tar spirit may have their human only do specific things and not go overboard since they have a set goal; other times, they may try to do as much evil as possible. Though this does not mean that every abuser or serial killer is possessed, but many of them are. If the person surrenders to these impulses fed by the tar spirit (which they usually do), the individual will become thoroughly corrupted and there will be no turning back. Yet if the individual is exceptionally strong and can use their will-power to fight against these urges, they will not be corrupted; though this very rarely happens. Sometimes, the tar spirit can be banished in time to save the person before they become corrupted or before their higher self leaves, but if the tar spirit remains for too long, the person will remain evil even if the tar spirit is banished.  

Once the possessed individual no longer serves any use to the tar spirit, it will jump out of the body and go into the next weakened victim. Some things they often do are possess parents who they inspire to abuse their children, allowing the tar spirit to then possess the weakened child and make them an abuser as well. Many other times, they make someone a serial killer only to abandon them afterwards, causing the person to realize the totality of their crimes and commit suicide. Tar spirits also often attack other entities as well, trying to either harm them or devour their children. Another common thing tar spirits do is pretend to be a deity, demon, or some either type of spirit in order to seduce an unsuspecting human who contacts spirits. If the human falls for their tactics and is seduced, the tar spirit will have sex with their astral body in order to breed with them. They don’t actually care to have children, but do this in order to have greater numbers of their kind, allowing them to corrupt as many people as possible. 

Ways to recognize a tar spirit: The obvious way would be to use your astral sight to see them, or if you happen to smell their tar (which has a very foul odor). However, since these spirits are extremely deceptive, they often disguise themselves as different types of beings (such as deities) in order to earn trust. To recognize when you are dealing with a tar spirit in disguise, stay aware of these common tactics they utilize:

A supposed deity, demon, angel, etc. tries to convince you to marry or have sex with them when you hardly even know them. Tar spirits routinely manipulate unsuspecting humans into reproducing for them, or even forcing themselves upon others.

They tell you that you are very special and not like other people (they may say you’re a god, you have a special destiny above others, you are their own prophet, etc.)

They don’t let you speak/work with other spirits 

They may try to convince you to leave your close friends or lie about friends trying to betray you

They try to convince you that your negative habits/emotions should be embraced

They are toxic and manipulative towards you in general

How to banish tar spirits: Even though they are capable of causing great damage, tar spirits are quite weak unless, of course, they are accompanied by many others. One can astral project by focusing on opening their astral eyes and then summoning astral fire to engulf the spirit. When quickly projecting like this, it is common for a beginner to not be able to see anything in the astral, but visualizing your actions is key; as long as you do this, you have a good chance at succeeding. You can also request help from a deity or you can listen to specific spiritual chants that are sung at a certain vibrancy that tar spirits hate. One of these chants is the Tibetan Yamantaka Terminator of Death; when played out loud, any tar spirits in the area will leave. If a person is possessed, they need to be ritually exorcised in any way that works (an experienced practitioner of magick can force out the tar spirit and use a blessed athame to destroy it).

[nerdythebard]

#7: Anubis, God of the Dead

Well, now we've done it, Gods and Goddesses!

In our journey through the deserts of Egypt, we took a detour and found ourselves in the Land of the Dead. Now, we are under the watchful eye of Anubis. This psychopomp shall lead us to the Hall of Two Truths, were our soul will judge itself. Let's take a walk, shall we?

Next Time: I AM THE ETERNAL DRAGON! SPEAK YOUR WISH AND I SHALL GRANT IT! Sudden change of plans, dearies... Next time, we take a look at a strapping young lad who knows a thing or two about yard decorations. He got it from his daddy dearest.

So, what can we do to make Anubis chill our enemies to the bone:

Friends on the Other Side: Anubis has a connection to the spirits of the dead. He can grant them a facsimile of life to act on his behalf, damage and slow enemies in a wide AoE.

Crowd Control: Anubis can call upon a plague of locusts to damage enemies in a cone in front of him, as well as keep foes restrained with mummy bandages.

Death Glare: Anubis's Ultimate is a literal death glare, his sight becomes a piercing beam of necrotic energy heavily damaging enemies in front of him.

---

Anubis's D&D race is a much more difficult case than I first imagined. Now, there is a race called Khenra

which would be a dead-ringer for Anubis, but their stats from the Plane Shift: Amonkhet document is... honestly, it's pretty bad and wouldn't make for a nice build.

Instead, let's take a look at the closest we have to a lycanthrope in player options, the Shifter race. More specifically, the Wildhunt Shifter, who are described to often be "the spiritual leaders of the shifter communities", which I'd say fits Anubis pretty well. As a Shifter, we get +2 Wisdom and +1 Dexterity, 30 feet of walking speed, 60 feet of Darkvision, and our only known language is Common. As a Natural Tracker, we get proficiency in Survival skill, and our key trait is our Shifting ability. As a bonus action, we can assume a more beast-like form (in this case, jackal-like). The transformation lasts for 1 minute/until we die/until we dismiss it as a bonus action. When we shift, we get Temporary Hit Points equal to [our level + Constitution modifier], as well as a feature unique to the type of shifter we choose. Wildhunt Shifters gain an advantage on Wisdom checks while shifted, and no creature within 30 feet of them can impose a disadvantage unless the shifter is incapacitated.

For our background, I think picking Acolyte is the most suitable choice. We get proficiencies with Insight and Religion (to better judge the intentions of a soul) and the Shelter of the Faithful feature, which grants us safety at any temple dedicated to the deity we're the acolyte of (either Kelemvor or Jergal are a good option here).

ABILITY SCORES

Anubis is a light armour caster-type, so we're going to focus on those stats. We will start with Dexterity to pull off that leather armour, and follow it with Wisdom; we must be wise in our judgment, and it's also our spellcasting ability. Constitution is next, as it's pretty important for casters to have decent Hit Points.

The stats on the down-low side of things shall be Intelligence, followed by Charisma, and we shall dump Strength.

CLASS

Yet another pure build. To keep the flow of souls at a steady pace and guide them to Osiris's Halls, Anubis is a Cleric.

As a Cleric, we get the d8 as our Hit Dice, [8 + Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, proficiencies with light armour, medium armour, shields, and simple weapons. For this I suggest a studded leather armour and a dagger (perhaps like the one Egyptians used in the mummification processes, eh? :D), since this is a primarily spell-heavy build. Our saving throws is Wisdom and Charisma and we get to pick two class skills: let's go for Persuasion and History.

---

Level 1 - Clerics are full-casters, so from the very beginning we get our Spellcasting feature. We know cantrips and ritual casting, and we get access to the entire Cleric spell list, from which we can prepare a number of spells equal to [our Wisdom modifier + our Cleric level]. Starting with cantrips, we get to select three:

Guidance lets us give a creature we touch an extra d4 to their next skill check performed within 1 minute of casting (concentration). Very useful for "skill monkeys" like rogues or bards.

Sacred Flame is a good source of radiant damage. It requires a Dexterity saving throw from a target within 60 feet of us, or results in 1d8 radiant damage (damage increases with our level).

Toll the Dead fits Anubis's theme. Calls the soul for their final judgement. Forces onto them a Wisdom saving throw. On a failed save, the target take 1d8 necrotic damage. If they already have some Hit Points missing, they take 1d12 damage instead.

We start with two 1st-level spell slots and we can prepare four 1st-level spells:

Bless gives up to three creatures of our choice an extra d4 to all attack rolls and saving throws for 1 minute (concentration).

Cure Wounds is THE staple healing spell at lower levels, and it reflects Anubis's theme of preparing and embalming the body for their journey to the afterlife. A creature we touch regains [1d8 + our spellcasting modifier] Hit Points. It doesn't work on undead or constructs.

Guiding Bolt deals 4d6 radiant damage and applies advantage to the next attack roll made against the target (it can be ours or somebody else's).

Sanctuary protects a creature from harm for 1 minute. When attacking somebody who's under the effect of Sanctuary, the attacker must make a Wisdom saving throw or choose a different target.

We're not done with Level 1 features yet, because that is also where Clerics get their subclass, their Divine Domain. There are two official subclasses that mention Anubis by name, but for this build I feel like Grave Domain works best. As a Grave Cleric we get access to some more spells - those are always prepared for us and we don't count them against the number of spells we can prepare:

Bane works similarly to Bless, except the target has to make a Charisma saving throw or subtract 1d4 from each attack roll and saving throw they make for 1 minute (concentration).

False Life transforms necromantic energy into a facsimile of life, giving us 1d4+4 Temporary Hit Points for 1 hour (or until they're lost).

Grave Cleric's first subclass feature is Circle of Mortality, which boosts our healing spells. Where normally we would have to roll dice on healing spells (like 1d8 on Curse Wounds), we can instead automatically use the highest number on the die. We also learn Spare the Dying cantrip, which saves a fallen creature from making Death Saves. For us, the cantrip has 30 feet reach instead of touch.

We also get Eyes of the Grave. It works similarly to the Paladin's Divine Sense except this one only shows us the undead present within 60 feet of us.

And that's it for Level 1. Clerics, man... they're early game powerhouses.

Level 2 - This level gives us access to the Channel Divinity feature, which lets us tap into the Divine Energy of our deity to perform amazing features. For now, we can use it once per short or long rest. All Clerics get the Turn Undead effect - each undead within 30 feet of us must make a Wisdom saving throw or become turned (they cannot move towards us within 30 feet, and must spend their turn trying to move away from us as far as they can) for 1 minute. The Grave Domain gives us another CD effect - Path to the Grave. This effect curses a target of our choice within 30 feet of us, until the end of our next turn. During that time, the next attack that damages a target makes it vulnerable to that damage type (damage dealt increases by half) and the curse ends.

We also get a new spell - Inflict Wounds deals 3d10 necrotic damage on a successful touch.

Level 3 - We unlock 2nd-level spell slots. This means, we can now get a 2nd-level spell: Hold Person forces a Wisdom saving throw on one (or more, if using higher-level spell slots) humanoid target within 60 feet. On a failed save the target is paralysed for 1 minute (concentration). Flavour it as mummy bandages and we've got one Anubis ability down.

Our subclass also grants us two spells at this point:

Gentle Repose prevents a corpse from decay and turning into an undead (suck it, Ah Puch!). Useful if you cannot afford the resurrection of one of your party members, but besides that, it's pretty situational.

Ray of Enfeeblement is like a demo version of Anubis's Ultimate. On a successful hit, the target's damage that uses Strength deals only half the normal amount for 1 minute (concentration).

Level 4 - Time for our first Ability Score Improvement! Let's get some better HP with 1 point in Constitution, and we'll put the other point in Wisdom.

We get another cantrip: Thaumaturgy gives a list of multiple effects we can perform for, lasting for 1 minute (making our voice louder, dimming and brightening lights, locking and unlocking doors and windows, etc.)

We also get another spell: Blindness/Deafness forces a Constitution saving throw on one creature within 30 feet. If they fail, they are blinded or deafened (our choice) for 1 minute. They can repeat the saving throw on each of their turns to try and shake off the effect.

Level 5 - At this level, our Turn Undead becomes Destroy Undead. It works only on the undead with the CR of 1/2 and below (shadows, zombies, skeletons, etc.), but if they fail their saving throw, they are instantly destroyed.

We also unlock 3rd-level spell slots and spells: Speak with Dead lets us reanimate a corpse for a short while (10 minutes), enough to ask it five questions. The dead can answer only what they knew in life, and the answers are usually brief/cryptic. They may also lie if we're the one that killed them, or they're hostile in general.

Additionally, we get two more spells from our subclass:

Revivify might go against Anubis's ways, but it is a staple Cleric spell. Sacrificing a diamond worth at least 300 gold pieces, we bring a creature who died within the last minute to life with 1 Hit Point. The spell doesn't restore missing body parts.

Vampiric Touch lets us deal 3d6 necrotic damage to a creature we can touch, and give us the same amount of Hit Points. Until the spell ends (1 minute, concentration), we can use the spell again as action without a need to make a spell attack.

Level 6 - Our Channel Divinity has now two uses between rests, and we gain a new subclass upgrade. Sentinel at Death's Door is one of the more annoying features in all of D&D (speaking from the DM's point of view here). Whenever a creature within 30 feet of us is attacked with a Critical Hit (Natural 20 roll, doubles damage dealt), we can use our reaction to cancel that critical and turn it into regular damage.

Spirit Guardians is a spell that summons a horde of spirits in a 15 feet radius from us. We can select who is unaffected by the spirits when we cast it. Those who are affected have their speed halved, and whenever they end their turn within the spirits' radius (and first time walk into it) must make a Wisdom saving throw or take 3d8 radiant damage (if we're good/neutral; if we're evil, it's necrotic. Half damage on a successful save).

Level 7 - Here, we only unlock 4th-level spell slots.

We get two more subclass spells: Banishment forces a Charisma saving throw on one target within 60 feet. On a failed save, the target disappears from the Plane it resides on. (right into the Shadow Realm! Egyptian Underworld) If the target isn't native to the Plane it disappeared from, it returns to its home Plane. If the target is native to the Plane it disappeared from, it gets transported into a pocket demiplane. If nothing interrupts our concentration for the entire duration of the spell (1 minute), the banished target doesn't come back (non-native), or it returns to the same space (native).

We also have subclass spells here:

Blight drains vitality from one creature within 30 feet of us. They must succeed on a Constitution saving throw, or take 8d8 necrotic damage (half damage on a successful save). It doesn't work on the undead or constructs, but if the target is a plant creature or a magical plant, it makes the save with disadvantage and receives the maximum possible amount of damage (64). If the target is a non-magical plant, it doesn't make a save - just withers instantly.

Death Ward prevents a person's death before their scheduled time. A creature we touch gains protection against being killed for 8 hours. If they drop to 0 Hit Points, they immediately recover one point. Any effect that causes instant death (such as a trap, a curse, or even Power Word: Kill) is also blocked.

Level 8 - We get another ASI. Let's get a +1 Wisdom and +1 Constitution again.

Because of our Wisdom modifier changing from 3 to 4, we now can get two new spells at this level. For this, I'd actually suggest taking just one spell and ask your DM whether we can save the remaining one for later. Otherwise, pick any throwaway spell to replace later.

Guardian of Faith summons a Large-sized spectre at a point within 30 feet of us for 8 hours (no concentration). Any creature moving within 10 feet of the guardian must make a Dexterity saving throw or take 20 points of (unspecified) damage (half damage on a success). The guardian disappears after dealing a total of 60 points of damage.

Level 9 - We unlock 5th-level spells here. If we have an empty spell from the previous level, we can now take two spells here. Plus, we also get two spells from our subclass!

Greater Restoration is a great healing spell. It is able to remove one curse/petrification/charm/reduction of Hit Points Maximum on top of removing one level of exhaustion. Really useful.

Insect Plague basically lets us re-enact the Prince of Egypt. We fill a 20-foot-radius sphere with a swarm of buzzing, biting locust. All creatures within the sphere have to make a Constitution saving throw or take 4d10 piercing damage (half damage on a successful one). This saving throw must also be done when entering the sphere or ending the turn in it.

Now, for the spells from our subclass:

Antilife Shell creates a 10-foot-radius dome around us. It lasts for 1 hour (concentration) and during that time, nothing organic/alive can enter the barrier. Only undead and constructs can get through. It also lets in projectiles and spells.

Raise Dead is what happens when Anubis says 'I quit'. The spell targets one corpse that died within the last 10 days and brings it back to life with 1 Hit Point. The raised creature gets post-resurrectional penalty of -4 to all of their saving throws, attack rolls, and ability checks. The penalty is reduced by 1 for each long rest taken.

Level 10 - Halfway through the build and we receive one of the Cleric's best feature. With Divine Intervention we can petition our patron deity to directly help us with a problem. We roll a percentile dice and if the result is equal to or lower than our Cleric level, the prayer is successful. The interpretation of 'divine help' is up to our DM; it can be a vision, a single-use spell that's gonna be helpful, etc. If the prayer is successful, we cannot use this feature for a week. If the prayer fails, we can try again after finishing a long rest.

We get our final cantrip: Word of Radiance is a good anti-close range spell. It forces a Constitution saving throw on all creatures within 5 feet of us, and deals 1d6 radiant damage on a failed one (damage scales as we level up).

For our next spell, Holy Weapon infuses our weapon with divine energy for 1 hour (concentration). The weapon sheds bright light in 30 feet radius (and dim light for another 30), it becomes magical for the purpose of overcoming resistances, and all successful attacks deal extra 2d8 radiant damage for the whole duration of the spell.

Level 11 - Our Destroy Undead effect of Channel Divinity gets enhanced. It now affects undead with a CR of 2 or lower (ghouls, spectres, poltergeists, will-o'-wisps, etc.).

We also gain access to 6th-level spells. Find the Path represents Anubis's role as a guide of souls. It can last up to 1 day (concentration) and allows us to find the shortest and most direct path to a location we name that we're familiar with.

Level 12 - Time for another ASI! First, let's round up our Constitution to a nice, even number, and then let's start boosting our weaker abilities by raising our Charisma.

For this level's spell, Planar Ally allows us to summon an otherworldly minion (celestial, elemental, or fiend), which we could ask to carry out a small task in exchange for payment. The creature is under no obligation to listen to us but can be bargained with.

Level 13 - We don't get a class feature this time, only unlock 7th-level spell slots. With Etherealness, we can step into the spirit world for a brief amount of time (up to 8 hours, no concentration). While inside the Ethereal Plane, we can only interact with creatures from that plane. We see and hear into the Plane we departed from and can move in any direction (moving up and down costs +1 foot for every foot of movement). We can also pass through objects and walls of the Material Plane.

Level 14 - We have upgrade to our Destroy Undead effect. It can now affect the undead with a CR of 3 or lower (mummies, wights, phantom warriors, etc.).

With Regenerate, we restore one target's health by 4d8+15 Hit Points. Following that, for 1 hour the target recovers 1 Hit Point per turn (10 HP per minute) until reaching their Hit Point Maximum. The spell also regrows missing organs and limbs 2 minutes after casting.

Level 15 - Once again, no new class features. We do unlock 8th-level spell slots. Antimagic Field creates a 10-foot-radius invisible sphere, where no magic can exist; spells fizzle out, summoned creatures disappear, magic items become regular. When you stand before the final judgment, no magic will help you.

Level 16 - We get another ASI. Let's raise our Charisma and Strength.

Although we do have access to 8th-level spells now, we can back up for a moment and take Planar Shift. This spell lets us travel into another Plane of Existence, as long as we a metal rod worth at least 250 gold pieces and is attuned to our desired destination. The spell transports us, along with up to eight willing creatures. Alternatively, we can banish a creature within our melee range into the particular Plane, granted they fail a Charisma saving throw.

Level 17 - This is a big one. First of all, our Destroy Undead reaches another upgrade, allowing us to disintegrate undead with a CR of 4 or lower (the banshee, ghosts, flameskulls, deathlocks, etc.).

We also get our final subclass upgrade - Keeper of Souls. If a creature we can see dies within 60 feet of us, we can choose another creature we can see within 60 feet and restore their Hit Point by the now-deceased enemy's remaining Hit Dice. We can use this feature once per turn.

At this level, we also unlock the pinnacle of Divine Magic - 9th-level spells. True Resurrection can restore a creature who has been dead for no longer than 200 years back to life with a full amount of Hit Points. The spell closes wounds, restores missing limbs, lifts curses, and neutralizes poison and disease. It turns undead into their non-undead form. If there is no body to resurrect, the spell can provide a new body for the soul to inhabit. The only thing the spell cannot restore is if death came from old age.

Level 18 - Our Channel Divinity feature can now be used three times in-between rest.

Mass Heal is a powerful restorative spell, which targets all creatures within 60 feet of us. We can restore a total of 700 Hit Points, divided evenly between all creatures affected, who are also healed from all diseases as well as blindness or deafness. The spell doesn't work on constructs and undead.

Level 19 - We get our final ASI of this build. Before the final boss battle, let's boost our Constitution by 2.

Gate creates a portal linked into another Plane of Existence. We can determine a specific destination by naming a location in the target Plane. The portal lasts for 1 minute (concentration). Alternatively, we can name a creature we know resides in the target Plane and pull them through the portal into our location.

(yes, Doctor Strange is a Cleric in D&D terms, fight me!)

Level 20 - Our build capstone is Divine Intervention Improvement. At this level, whenever we decide to use our Divine Intervention hotline, the prayer is always successful, without a need to roll.

For our final spell, we get Astral Projection

The spell makes us and eight willing creatures go on a trip into the Astral Sea. Our soul leaves the body (which is in suspended animation, requiring no food, air, and doesn't age) and enters the dimension of pure thought and psychic energy. There is a series of rules in the spell description, but it can be used to survey other planes of existence by entering the right colourful portal.

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And that's the end of it. Anubis, the Egyptian psychopomp. Let's see how we did:

We have good abilities, two 18s and a 16 where it counts, average Hit Points of 151 and 15 AC with studded leather armour. We're not the designated HealBot, but we have a few good higher-level healing spells for when things go sour.

Can't wait to show you folks the next one. I have a feeling some of you might enjoy it!

- Nerdy out!