#which is enraging enough on its own

[bbyboybucket]

Well, I hope the pro-lifers and the U.S. gov is happy. Cause now pregnant women (who decided to keep their child) and are having pregnancy emergencies, like ectopic pregnancies, blood clots and preeclampsia, placenta complications and decay, birth/labor complications, etc. are being refused treatment to help them survive. Literally even women who are in ORGAN FAILURE are being turned away by hospitals and doctors and are being refused treatment due to abortion laws, or if not outright refused, they’re being put at the bottom of triage. These women who are dying or at risk of dying, are being denied survival for themselves and even possibly their child, because if a mother dies, it’s likely the fetus isn’t gonna have an easy time either. That’s super “pro-life” of these people. So “pro-life” that they’re okay with a woman dying because she tried to have a child and her body couldn’t keep up with the physical demands. When will these dumb fucks realize that it was never and will never just be about the “morals” of birth control. It doesn’t just involve a woman may wanna terminate an unplanned pregnancy, it’s hurting the women who do want to have children too. And if someone can’t bring themselves to agree with pregnancy termination, the least they can do is wake up and realize this is bigger than birth control. It’s literally life or death of full grown women. It’s life or death for your sisters, your mothers, your wives, or even yourself if you’re a woman who’s a pro-life. And these people are dying, literally dying. All because idiots would rather have both mother and child die, than just save the woman who has an actual life.

[verekatt]

Danny Al Ghul... but differently

Instead of the classic Demon Twins, what if Maddie Fenton was an Al Ghul? Talia's older sister, maybe.

She's trained in martial arts, which could come from the League. She has pretty loose morals, dedicating her cause (science) above anything else. And her work is focused around the scientific study of ectoplasm (or Lazarus Water).

In this AU, I imagine Maddie was exiled from the League for trying to study Lazarus Water. Ra's views the water as holy (I love the idea he made a magical deal to get it), and so the idea of using it for anything but its intended purpose is sacrilegious. She's cast out, but on her way she steals some samples, which is the basis for the Fenton's research before the portal is opened.

She used the word ectoplasm to disguise what she's really researching to hide from Ra's, because he would definitely kill her if he realised she continued her research after leaving. She connects ghosts to ectoplasm because she's heard stories about Pit Demons. This is also where the assumption that ghosts are non-sentient and harmful comes from; Pit Demons are fueled only by Pit Rage. (In reality, Lazarus Pits are just corrupted and diseased, and the ghosts coming through are only mindless for as long as it takes them to overcome the illness.)

She never dates Vlad because he's too much like Ra's, with his pride and wealth and schemes. Instead, she marries Jack, a man smart enough to be useful and devoted enough to follow her lead unquestioningly. She mimics Jack's mannerisms, mirrors his own affection back to him, and learns to fit in by attaching herself to him. She learns the value of being underestimated, of being dismissed as the town kooks.

When Danny is revealed as a halfa, she uses these assumptions. She tells him she needs time to think and adjust, and she gears up to catch him. She loves him, sure, but the scientific opportunity she's been given is too valuable to give up for sentiment's sake. Jack's more apprehensive, but she's been manipulating him for decades, and she tells him Phantom killed their son. Jack is enraged, and now on board to catch Danny. They succeed, and every time Danny screams and begs and Jack wavers, Maddie talks him back into it.

Eventually though, Danny gets through to Jack. The Fentons heard about a ghost attack in town, and Maddie left to hunt, leaving Jack alone with Danny. They talk, and Jack finally realises he's in the wrong. He releases Danny and tells him to run, knowing he can't, physically or emotionally, stop Maddie. Danny runs, and ends up homeless and injured in Gotham.

Jack, meanwhile, goes to Sam, Tucker and Jazz, to explain, apologise, and figure out how to help Danny and make amends. They're angry and suspicious at first, but eventually agree to work together, for Danny's sake. Jack is learning a lot about what ghosts are really like, and it's blowing his mind how wrong he was about them.

Danny, meanwhile, gets noticed by the Bats, and they see his Al Ghul resemblance. With his black hair and blue eyes, they assume he's another blood son of Bruce's, and scramble to catch/adopt him. This is largely unsuccessful, because the Bats are government affiliated, the Waynes are rich fruitloops, and Danny is very good at not getting caught. They're also busy trying to figure out if he's a threat, and trying to get a DNA sample to prove their assumptions. They track down his hideout just in time to see Maddie recapture him, and they realise Danny was never the LoA assassin threat they were worried about, Maddie is.

Before they get enough information to launch a rescue mission, they get flagged down by Jack, Jazz, Sam and Tucker. The Amity Parker's information on ghosts and ghost tech is invaluable, and when they point out the Anti-Ecto Acts, the Bats riot (internally). The rescue goes ahead flawlessly thanks to their combined knowledge.

Now, however, there's the issue of Danny's custody. Regardless of guilt, Jack had a hand in his torture, and might face jail time for it. Danny might like the Bats a bit more now, but his trust issues won't let him move in with strangers. The Waynes are even worse, his billionaire trauma removes them as an option, especially with how they were stalking him before. Maybe he gets an apartment with Jazz? But I can't imagine the Bats being ok with leaving two traumatised teenagers alone after all that, especially while they're still working on getting the Anti-Ecto Acts removed.

Regardless of where Danny ends up, he's going to get stalked by the Bats. It's their love language. Regardless of good intentions, Danny is not feeling the love. He's feeling very cornered and threatened. He knows they've seen he's not human, and now they're intruding on his half-life, waiting for him to become a threat so they can take him down. Danny tells his friends and family, and together, they run.

This could go a few ways from here. Maybe they bounce from city to city, dodging heroes who heard about the family from the Bats and are just trying to help. Maybe they get caught by the GIW in a final push as the laws are being overturned. Maybe they run to the Infinite Realms, and are only found again years later when Danny summoned as the High King of the Dead. Or all of these could happen.

[blasphemousclaw]

why Divine Beast Dancing Lion has the best soundtrack in the entire game

When I watched the first DLC trailer 6 months ago, I was so focused on Messmer that I never gave the lion dancers a second thought. But in a shocking turn of events, Divine Beast Dancing Lion is now my favorite boss in the whole game. To me, what makes this fight truly exceptional is its soundtrack, so I want to go through the music and outline all the things that make it so great!

What makes the music stand out is that it feels SO different from the rest of the OST… the majority of the boss tracks have a pretty similar style and instrumentation, but Divine Beast stands out in my opinion because of how it emphasizes its rhythm and texture.

Conceptually, this boss fight is first and foremost a dance — you are fighting two Hornsent warriors operating a lion costume based on the traditional Chinese lion dance in an arena that’s actually a giant stage.

The Chinese lion dance is typically accompanied only by percussion (drums, gongs, and cymbals). So naturally, Divine Beast’s soundtrack has much more pronounced percussion in comparison to the rest of the soundtrack, featuring heavy drum beats and cymbals, plus shouts and chants from the choir. The music is in a steady 6/8, with 2 beats per measure divided into three pulses (think 1 2 3, 1 2 3) giving it a lilting, dancelike quality (this type of meter is often used in folk and traditional dances!). And, in the boss’s second phase, the dancing lion’s lightning, wind, and frost phases each have their own music and are timed to transition as the music transitions. The whole boss fight is programmed like a dance, so when you fight the boss it feels like you’re dancing with it too!

The choir has a range of vocalizations that goes beyond singing melodies and harmonies; as I touched on before, they’re also shouting and chanting. The shouts are used percussively and help accent the rhythm of the dance, and the low chanting also brings to mind a sort of religious ritual? Which is exactly what this boss fight is… in Hornsent culture, the lion dance is a ritual for invoking divinity:

“A charm depicting the crazed, cavorting dance of the divine beast conducted at the tower festival. Raises potency of storms. Divine beasts are messengers of the heavens, and their rage mirrors the tumult of the skies, of which storms are the pinnacle.” (Enraged Divine Beast talisman)

The lion dancers, or “sculpted keepers,” are those amongst the divine beast warriors (themselves the chosen amongst the tower’s horned warriors) who truly excelled at divine invocation, and were “granted the honor of the lion dance” (Divine Beast Warrior Armor). In the boss cutscene, the Hornsent Grandam calls upon the divine beast to possess the bodies of the sculpted keepers, and rise again to defend the tower… so the lion dance, performed by warriors skilled in divine invocation, is essentially a ritual for invoking the presence of the divine beast within the dancers in order to commune with the heavens.

The sculpted keepers, having invoked the rage of the divine beast, are able to channel the forces of the stormy skies — lightning, wind, and frost. The force of the storm is represented in the music by quick runs in the high woodwinds and strings that come and go like gusts of wind. The music almost never lets up or loses momentum; it goes at a powerful, furious pace until the end, embodying the divine beast’s fury.

But the Divine Beast that we fight has an extra layer of emotion that goes beyond divine ritual:

“When the Impaler's army assailed the tower, the ritual of the lion dance was turned toward martial ends—its divinity, its fury, its light-footed beauty.” (Remembrance of the Dancing Lion)

What was once a beautiful ritual dance conducted at the tower festival was forced to become a weapon of war in order to fight against their people’s annihilation at the hands of Messmer’s crusade. And even this was not enough…

The Dancing Lion that we fight was slain, lying in a pool of dried blood, when it is miraculously awoken again with a fervent prayer. This is the last lion dance that may ever take place, giving us a mere glimpse of this ruined city’s long-vanished splendor.

Listening to the soundtrack, there is not only pride in the music, but also an urgent, visceral, warlike rage, a multitude of voices joining in a desperate fight for their civilization’s very survival.

[dduane]

Invictus

In the dimness he woke and knew it was too late. Morning never came so late unless the world was ending.

Fortunately, he knew what to do about that.

He blinked and ruffled his feathers, looking around. This was his place. Surrounding a patch of grass were two holly trees, a pine, a cypress whose branches all went the wrong way, and much shrubbery, mostly beech and thorn. The shelter was good here, even on nights like last night. And in the holly, food appeared hung up: good food that tasted of fat and meat. It was all his. Later, when it was time for sex, there would be someone else who’d get some of it. But right now, he owned it.

This cold white stuff on the ground did complicate matters. It came and went without warning, and here it was again. Now, others who might have spent the morning scratching around the ground instead of stuffing themselves full up here would be turning up in his territory, eating his food. His feathers ruffled up again, this time with rage at the thought. Bastards. Bastards. Kill them all.

He hopped up onto the branch that had the best view across the patch of grass and into the bushes, and sang. Bastards! Who wants a piece of me? Come and get it! Because this was when it had to be said, no matter how much you might have preferred to sit quiet with your feathers fluffed up, conserving your heat. The dim sky was already paling toward that too-cold blue. It would be a bad day, cold, everybody and his family would turn up here trying to get at the tree food, which was what you needed this time of year if you meant to stay alive until dusk –

And suddenly he heard the harsh dark cawing coming from across the hardened path, across the wall, in the wood full of tall starved pines. He shivered. Not so early, he thought, what are you doing up at this hour? But he knew. That one wanted the tree-food too. It had come for it before. Now, in the silence before the morning wind, he heard the flapping of the wings.

Hastily he turned to the food cage, ate a few mouthfuls, felt the fat melt down his throat like blood, like life. Almost before he finished, the darkness had landed with a noisy thrash of leaves and branches up in the holly. A huge expressionless black eye gazed down at him.

He sang. It was almost all he could do. It’s mine! Stay away, or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! But the outcome was hardly so simple. The black-headed, white-backed shape with the axe-like beak bounced down another branch, and another, its eye on that tree food, that meat. It liked meat too. He’d once seen it zoom down onto the pond and simply pick up a baby duck and fly off with it. I’ll kill you if you get any closer! Don’t push me! I will!

It came closer. It was winter, it was death, the shape now only one branch of holly away. He sang as if life depended on it: because it did. If he had enough to eat, the sun came up. If the sun came up, the world was safe. It was as simple as that. Go away! I have to eat the food or the world will end! I’ll kill you to keep that from happening! Monster, go away, don’t make me rip you up — ! He fluttered at the monstrous gaping head, enraged, desperate.

A clacketing, rattling noise from behind. The black eye went wide, the death-pale bulk roused its wings and flapped clumsily out of the holly tree. Desperate with relief, he flung himself at the food-cage again, and ate with frantic speed as the sky paled brighter, toward day-blue: and between mouthfuls, he sang at the top of his lungs, shuddering with relief and triumph. Bastard! I warned you not to mess with me! Victory! Victory!

The sun peered up over the far hill. The shadows fled. He gorged himself as the black bird flew off, and stopped, and shouted again, Victory!

…She stood there with her mug in one hand, looking out across the back yard snow at the dot of red breast deep in among the holly branches, pecking furiously at the suet in its little cage. “Boy,” she said to the husband, back in the kitchen, “listen to that guy. You’d think he’d just won World War Three.”

“Yeah. Where’s the milk?”

The door closed. On the snow, the sun of the shortest day shone.

Victory!

[luminewhosthat]

Hey guys

I felt quite insecure and ashamed to post this,

But I don't think I can hold it back anymore.

I'm from Bangladesh, my homeland, I speak Bangla, it's my mother tongue, and I'm proud of my roots but my family immigrated to America many years ago. But I still care a lot about my country. So recently, there has been a lot going in Bangladesh. Mainly, it's because of its corrupted government. Our prime minister Sheikh Hasina is literally a dictator, if you go to twitter and search about recent news in Bangladesh, you can see that the situation is not that good. Basically, it's because we have a thing which is called "Quota" and it affects the Bangladeshi Government job sectors in a very negative way. This "Quota" is for the freedom fighters who fought in 1971 war which happened in Bangladesh. But the problem is that, even though those freedom fighters are dead, their families are welcome to enjoy the privileges which the quota provides.

Mostly, the grandchildren of these freedom fighters can use the quota to get jobs in Bangladesh's most prestigious job sectors, which has created a huge unemployment problem in Bangladesh. Also, these "so called" grandchildren are now TOTALLY CORRUPTED AND RUINING OUR COUNTRY while enjoying many privileges given by our PM and Bangladeshi students are very mad about it because normal, brilliant students with ZERO QUOTA cannot get into any prestigious job sectors no matter how hard they try!

Thousands of students have also committed sui*ide because they could not feed their poor family who are looking up to these brilliant students so that they can spin their family's poor fate.

From 13 July till now, the students of many public and private universities of Bangladesh are protesting together and risking their lives in order to remove this disgusting, vile and cruel quota system. Unfortunately, given to these current circumstances, our PM still pays no mind to these poor students who are protesting ENDLESSLY and literally DYING ON THE ROAD !!

Sheikh Hasina has labeled these brave students as RAJAKAR/TRAITORS (Collaborators who aided the enemy country Pakistan in 1971)

Our brave Bengali students, male and female, got so enraged, heartbroken by the fact that their prime minister called them traitors of the country just because they wanted the quota system removed. Following that incident, on July 15, at 1 AM, Dhaka University students, Eden Women's College students and many other University students broke down the gates of their hall at midnight and ran down to the streets to protest while chanting "Who are you? Who am I ? Rajakar, Rajakar!!"

Brave men and women who are protesting against this quota, are now being brutally attacked and mercilessly killed by the government party terrorist organization Chhatra League. The students at Dhaka University are now being attacked with stones, Bats, knifes and literally anything that can hurt a human brutally enough. Our government has turned their back on us, claiming that these students are traitors of their own country, and they are selfish because they do not want the quota system to give benefits to only the grandchildren of freedom fighters anymore.

But the reality is, these so-called grandchildren are now dominating 56% of job sectors with the help of money, nepotism and other dishonest ways while the honest student of our country stays unemployed, their talents wasted, efforts unappreciated and thus, they suffer from depression.

I'm not asking that much from my followers, but please, for the love of God, share my post as much as you can. These mass protests are not being seen enough, share and retweet as much as possible, we need to spread these horrifying actions committed by our PM to the world. Shame, shame, shame on them. Shame on our government for turning a blind eye to hundred thousand of these students. The streets of Dhaka have been drenched with the blood of our students; in order to save their lives, we need to spread this news as much as possible. My cousins from Bangladesh are absolutely frightened, their exams have been stopped, teachers are also turning their backs on these students, they have nowhere to go now. My cousin's classmate got her arm broken off by terrorist organization Chaatro League men just because she was protesting against the corrupted system.

Women are getting assaulted, acids are being thrown at these students, violence is now occurring left and right, our PM is a woman and still, she chooses to betray the students and stands still on her disgusting beliefs with the terrorist government organization Awami League supporting her crimes.

On 21 February, in 1952, thousands of students at Dhaka University protested against the West Pakistan in order to establish the language Bangla as the state language of east Pakistan. Thousands of students had died on that day, which is why we Bangladeshis celebrate 21 February as our Mother Language Day.

It seems like history is going to repeat itself yet again.

Shame, shame, shame on them!

[misserabella]

Filthy Rich

Spencer Reid x Fem! reader PT.1

pt2! pt3!

✧ Synopsis;; Spencer Reid was filthy rich, for he was royalty. Handsome, charming and a gentleman, a dream dressed in pure silk for any kind of woman. But not you.

✧ y/n is a mere slave of a nobel family who just turned 22. On the night of the prince’s royal ball she is dragged against her will to this dance just to be used as a coat rack for the purses and coats of the family ladies, who, of course, treat her like absolute sh’t, to the point where they could agreed to hand her over for a generous amount of gold.

“Just name your price, sweetheart.”

“Screw you, my prince.”

Just how lucky you were for had caught the

prince’ s attention!

< enemies to lovers 3

17th century royalty! inspired by bridgerton!

CW;; this series might include 18+ content (details will be given at the start of each new part uploaded) MINORS DNI AND SKIP!!!

WARNINGS PART ONE: mention of blood, abuse, cursing and slave trafficking.

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

WORD COUNT;; 2k!

Her faced seemed to tell everything: she hated it.

She hated everything. From the music, to the little stupid shoes that clacked against the floor. The floral scent, the wine, the giggles… She hated the ton*. Every single one of them,

Everything. It was a goddamn nightmare.

“y/n! You are letting my coat slip! Do i have to tell you how much it costs?! If you dare let it touch the floor I’ll take the money out of your poor allowance to pay for a new one!” one of the misses glared at you, hitting you in the face with her closed paper fan, its gemstones leaving marks on you cheek.

“We might as well do it anyways, since her filthy hands have touched them already!” her sister laughed, grabbing your face in between her gloved fingers and digging her nails in your skin. “Don’t you think so, y/n? What? Cat got you tongue?” they giggled.

“Children, children!” the woman of the house hushed them with a sweet smile. “You shall never touch her!” she said, taking of the gloves out of her daughters hands to give her a new pair, with a sweet smile telling one of the servants of the castle to burn them. “God knows what she might infect us with!” she laughed, her offsprings following her.

God, you hated her. Her and her stupid daughters. With their stupid dresses and stupid painted faces.

You glared at them, your grip tightening around their belongings, holding your stare and your head up even when the woman stared back at you, her face scrunching in disgust and anger.

“Who do you think you are staring at?!?!” she suddenly yelled, catching the attention of those who enjoyed drinks and company around her, not waiting a mere second to rise her hand and slap you to ‘show you your place’. You took the hits, the metallic flavor of blood filling your mouth due to the continues smacks and hits with the back of her fan. “You filthy ungrateful bitch, you dare stare at us, who give you food and a bed?! I should’ve let you died out in the cold, in the dirt, where you belong to!” you gritted your teeth, your eyes down to the floor as your free hand made its way to your bottom lip, where you felt the skin split, the crimson of fresh blood tinting your frail skin.

“Fucking fussock*.” you cursed her under your breath, loud enough for her to perfectly hear you.

“What did you say?!” her free hand gripped your long and matted locks, making you look into her enraged eyes, her other hand rising up to hit you once again.

Your eyes closed as you expected a new slap, which surprisingly enough never came. The sound of multiple gasps filled your ears and when you opened up your eyes once again, your stomach sank at the sight of…

“Your highness!” everyone suddenly diverted their eyes to the floor, including you, your mistress and her daughters bowed in his presence, the wrist of the first of them all gracefully and softly held by the prince’s, who let her go with a kind smile.

“Is everything alright?” his voice tested the waters, his tone low and soft as the silk he dressed in, his hands jeweled in golden rings joining and intertwining in an elegance you never had witnessed.

“Yes, your highness.” the woman stuttered, showing a nervous smile. “Our slave just seemed to…, misbehave, your highness.” your eyes travelled trough his tall and magnificent demeanor. His fern green suit matched perfectly with the caramel of his skin and his brown and perfectly combed curls.

Your eyes quickly darted always as he had caught you staring once he had turned to you. He fought the lopsided smirk that urged to grow in his lips, stepping closer to where you stood.

He took a glance at the ragged clothes that hid your bruised and malnourished body, probably due to the family’s treatment under your care, your matted hair, cut up hands…

His warm touch spread on your skin as he took your chin in between his thumb and index finger, softly trying to rise your head up, but you denied him, in a harsh turn of head freeing yourself from his touch before giving him a glare.

A new wave of gasps filed the air as you stared right into his eyes, him holding your glare.

You didn’t care if he was a noble or pure royalty. Those ‘pure blood’ were all the goddamn same. With their leather shoes and gold jewelry, fancy words and silk dresses and suits. Their appearance was only a pretty facade that hid the ugliness of their insides.

You hated all of them. Might as well just get your head off as soon as possible.

“You slave! How is it ye dare to stare at the prince, soon king?!” a brunette and tall man talked, you recognized him as the pince’s right hand, but only with a wave of this hand, he stood silent beside the prince.

“Huh…” the smile he had been trying to fight off finally took place on his gracefully sculpted face and full rosy lips. “Interesting.” once again he took a soft grasp to your face, this time not letting you go even if you fought him off. His eyes took everything your face offered him, from your perfect nose to you long eyelashes and your beautiful fierce eyes, which stared at him with pure hatred and anger. “How much?” he suddenly asked, still not drifting his eyes away from you.

The woman stood frozen in place, just like her daughters.

“What does your highness mean with…-”

“How much would you want for her?” he cut her off, the deadly silent that fell on the salon almost giving you chills.

What was he saying?

“Your highness, I can’t…” she was short of breath and words. “I surely doubt thee would want her under your care, she…”

“I don’t care about any of it. Name a price.” everyone was shocked by the situation. Buying and selling slaves was something quite common, that’s how your current ‘family’ have got you, but this…

The prince? Has he gone nuts?

“Your highness, I don’t think…” the prince’s counselor stepped in, shutting up once again as soon as he gave him a glance.

“50 gold coins.” the woman suddenly blurted out, everyone’s jaws dropping at the audacity of the woman and such large figure.

“Mother!” her offsprings whispered-yelled. Not believing her words.

50 gold coins?!

You scoffed, smirking at such nonsense, not noticing the staring of the prince due to your reaction.

She wished you were worth that much. He would never…

“Make it 150.” he closed the deal.

“Your highness!” the counselor exclaimed, completely alarmed.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Gideon.” he hushed the man with his soft hazel eyes.

You watched as the woman who once abused you and starved you for days fainted due to the prince’s words and his daughters kneeling down to help her followed by some of the nearby guests, fanning her pale sleeping face.

You too felt like fainting.

“Hey, eyes on me, sweetheart.” the prince caught your attention once again, when your eyes met a smile growing on his lips. “All you need to do from now on keep your eyes on me.”

“Get off of me!” you screamed at the servants that tried and strip you out of your clothes, pushing their hands away. “I said stop!”

“Miss, they’re orders from your highness.” one of them spoke, her blue eyes soft on you. “He wanted us to help you bathe and and get rid of your dirty clothes.” she explained.

“I don’t care about what he said.” you scoffed. “If he wanted me undressed so fast why isn’t he the one taking my clothes off?” they all gasped at your words and no respect to the prince.

You didn’t care though, they were all the same anyways. Always reaks* that just wanted to have women swoon at their feet. Maybe that’s why he had bought you, just to use you when his cock got cold.

Suddenly, the door on your back opened, the heads of the servants quickly lowering as your eyes met the prince’s.

“Oh, fantastic…” you muttered. Just what you needed at the moment.

“You heard her, ladies. You are all dismissed.” he smiled at every and each one of them, bowing and moving aside with a swing of his arm on the door to let them out, all of them bowing and giggling.

And weren’t you just right?

“Great. And what do I have the honor of your highness’ presence for?” you sarcastically inquired him once he had closed the door behind his back, noticing…, ‘Gideon’ outside. “Got too excited due your new acquisition to just wait?” you mocked him.

“I heard you were putting up a fight.” he smiled, ignoring your words whilst looking at you up and down. “Is there something not to your liking, perhaps?”

“‘Not to my liking’?” you scoffed. “I can’t believe you.” you shook your head, grasping at your locks as you stared at him in disbelief. “How about this whole goddamn situation? I mean, look at this!” you pointed out everything that surrounded you, the whole bathroom with a gigantic bathtub of quartz, marble floors and pillars… “A few hours ago I was being used as a coat hanger in your ball and now I’m in a bathroom with the prince, who, surprisingly enough, bought me for 150 golden coins god knows why?!” you exclaimed.

He stared at you with a funny look in his eyes. His back against the door as his eyebrows raised at you.

“What.” you spit out, a glare in your eyes.

“Nothing, is just that…” he stepped closer to you, his arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t seem to…, respect me.” he frowned, his voice low. “Not like all of them.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, your highness, for not being another dog licking your leather boots.” you bowed, more of his steps growing closer to you until his thumb took your chin, rising your head up so you could meet his eyes, his face stood serious for a couple of seconds, before a downside smirk grew on his factions. “Why haven’t you cut my head off yet?” you inquired him, not really understanding his behavior. By the way you treated him, any other prince would have already gotten you to the guillotine.

“Why shall I?” he answered with another question, his thumb caressing the wound on your bottom lip, the still fresh blood that stood on it staining his thumb as you hissed in pain, getting away.

You stared at him in confusion.

Yeah. He was absolutely nuts.

“The water will go cold if you don’t get in soon.” he said, drifting off the matter while whipping off your blood from his thumb with his handkerchief. “Are you sure you don’t want to get off those ragged clothes?”

“This is the only dress I’ve had, sir.” you said, his eyes meeting yours.

“What’s your favorite color?” you frowned at his sudden question, which made absolutely no sense. He made no sense. “Crimson, like the purest blood? The forest’s green? The ocean’s blue, perhaps?”

“I’ve never seen the forest nor the ocean, sir. I’ve never left the capital. Though I find the sky’s blue on spring pretty wonderful, not sure it does justice to the ocean’s.”

“It doesn’t.” he said, sitting in the edge of the bathtub, his fingers taunting the warm water. “The ocean is cold, and fierce…, untamable. But it can also be warm, and calm, and soft.” he tried to explain, and from your point of view it didn’t make sense.

It didn’t make sense but you found it…

“It must be beautiful.” you said, him flashing you a soft smile before nodding.

“It is.” he got up clapping his hands together before looking back at you. “Well then, you should really hurry up, the water is perfect.”

“I already told thee, this dress is the only-“

“You won’t need it anymore.” he cut you off.

“And why is that?” you inquired, his steps growing closer to you.

“Because from now on…” he said, catching one of your locks in between his fingers. “You belong in this castle.”

To be continued…

*fussock; a lazy fat woman…, a frowzy old woman.

*the ton; the ton actually refers to English high society during the Regency era, and encompasses every aristocrat from the royals to the gentry.

*rake; ‘rake’ is used to describe an immoral, hedonistic young man circulating in high society.

[deathbxnny]

Anything for Natlan. Everything for Natlan. (Mavuika x GN!Reader)

A/N: As promised, here is the one-shot I spoke about! My health is unfortunately still very bad, but I'm desperate to write something and therefore hope you'll like this guys!<33

Content: Heavy angst, spoilers for the Natlan quest!, vague death of reader, hurt/no comfort, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

"So this is it? That's all you have to say?!" You stand on the steps to your once shared home, body trembling from the anger that coursed through you. The moon was high in the stary night sky, which reflected in your tearful eyes Mavuika had to turn away from. She was at a loss for words, unsure if there was even anything more to say. Because there truthfully wasn't. She had made up her mind whether you liked it or not.

"All these years we've spent together, all the promises we've made, this ring-" You held your hand out towards her, and you knew she could imagine it glinting in the moonlight beautifully as it always did. "-did it mean nothing to you? Nothing at all?" She didn't necessarily ever expect you to understand. If anything, she was glad that you were so angry, so enraged. It made things easier.

It made the reality of your situation easier.

She was leaving, planning to reincarnate in about 500 years to save your home from its demise. It was a hard feat, and it didn't mean that it could work out in the end. The world could still end, and the Abyss could still take over Natlan. Everything could have just been for nothing. But she needed to proceed with the plan anyway. It was a risk she was more than ready to take.

But you both knew that by the time she returned, you would be dead. Just like the rest of her family and friends here.

Mortality was beyond her now. She had found a way to cheat death and bring back hope to everyone. Except for you. It would be selfish of her to ask for you to understand, right? You wouldn't, and you couldn't, bare to let her go. You didn't care about tomorrow or the day after it if she wasn't there with you. And what would you do in her absence?

She imagined you slowly withering away as the years went by, sitting on the steps leading to your house whilst you wait for her return. Once you die, you'll search for her in the afterlife, only to realise that she had never even entered it. Would you feel betrayed then, too? You didn't know the extent of her plans. You were no warrior. You were a fleeting simplicity she deeply yearned for but knew she could never have as Natlan's Archon. You were her ultimate sacrifice. The one thing that tethered her to what she once was, to who she once was. To the mortal you married.

When did things go wrong? Why did she have to be the one to take on the burden of an unstoppable war? Why did she have to give up everything so that her friends could continue living their life's with their families? Why couldn't she do the same?

Hanging her head in shame, she heard her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, her breath short and unsteady as the doubts crept in. "I'm sorry. I don't expect you to understand." She finally said, and silence followed. It wasn't good enough. Nothing she told you now would be good enough. "You... mean the world to me." She still didn't turn around. Her heart couldn't let her do so. She'd never leave if she did. "And for that reason, I need to make this sacrifice. Natlan will never be free otherwise... and I'm sure we will meet again one day. Under the stary night, just like the first day we met."

"Many hardships await us from here. But I know you'll make it. You're strong, far stronger than I." She straightened up again, a deep, shaky breath leaving her lips. It was time. "Mavuika! Don't you dare leave me, I can't - " The woman began walking away calmly, her face devoid of any emotion but determination as she relished in the last remnants of your voice. "-I can't live in this world without you, I beg of you to stay damnit! Please don't leave me! Mavuika!" And yet, for some reason, you didn't chase her down. You didn't stop her from leaving. Deep down, you ultimately understood what she was doing. You were always so intelligent, so smart. You were the only one to truly get her. But even that wasn't enough. Your heart belonged to her, and she was willing to toss it in the flames, too.

Mavuika never turned around to face you that night, and you never stopped her either. You were the last person she said her goodbye's too before proceeding with her plans. Her heart wavered for a split moment, but she knew that this was fate calling out to her. This is life. Complex and ruthless as ever. Her emotions and past didn't matter, only what she was willing to sacrifice did.

Centuries later, she found herself beginning to hate hearing that word.

"Oh! We get it... so who is that?" Paimon's voice rang out, cutting through her mind as they stared at a picture of you and her family together, smiles bright and happy, unaware of the doom that would follow you soon. She chuckled at the question, eyes trailing over your face for what felt like the millionth time, and yet she could never get bored of it. If only she could remember what you sounded like...

"That... was my lover. I don't really know what happened to them after I left... but I believe they became a writer." Or at least, that's what she could gather from the small records that were left of you from 500 years ago. You had left your tribe and traveled all over Natlan. Your records and stories were still used by historians and tribesmen alike for retellings. But the only book she was able to get her hands on that proved all of this was the final book you wrote after having returned to your old home.

Paimon and the traveler glanced at each other with a solemn look, not knowing what else to say. The Archon's way to glory was tragic and painful. It was beyond them how someone could give up everything so willingly. And yet they had no time to ponder, as the next part of their to save Kichina plans came up.

Mavuika stayed behind, her hand carefully brushing against the worn-out book, which rested next to picture frame, not needing to open it to read it. She had memorized every sentence, every word, every letter. Sighing to herself, she knew that she'd have to sacrifice the last of you with it. This was all she had left.

But even you, once you reached your late 70s and settled down once more after years of travel, understood the meaning of her sacrifice at last. Walking away from the book and the picture frame, she recited the last paragraph in you ever wrote, deciding to leave her past at that. Guided through your own final words.

"And if Natlan one day can bathe in the scorching sun undisturbed and free from the hate of the Abyss, then I'd say my pain was worth something after all at last. I wasted decades looking for an answer to why you did it, Mavuika, and even now, my heart struggles to understand its loss. But one thing is clear now. One thing that we both knew from the start:

Anything for Natlan.

Everything for Natlan.

And may that never change until the last flickers of the sacred flames burn your heart and warm your face, just like I once did."

[alexanderlightweight]

Hope your yard work went well and the heat wasn't too strong! On this not-but-still Wednesday, I would like to prompt either established Malec with one making flower crowns/bouquets for the other, or not-established Malec with pining Alec making courting flower bouquets but hesitating to give them to Magnus - basically I'd like to see our pretty boys with flowers, sfw/nsfw as you'd like 🌻

thank you!! I did conquer the yard!!! I think it may have also conquered me a bit but that's what happened when you're allergic and disabled and doing yard work ^_^ still worth it to do it myself rn tho. I like yard work, I just complain because its also hard and exhausting and I'm allergic to half of it. which means I just get more stubborn tbh.

this is in the petals vs. because Alec and Magnus love their flower crowns and their garden and each other in most verses but especially this verse. they're as soft as petals for each other.

and I hope you enjoy, it's just something soft and sweet between them

<3 lumine

in his wake petals fall

Alec normally lets Magnus make the flower crowns, however he’s been tempted by the star jasmine climbing up the trellis.

It’s delicate and fragrant and the vines tangle with his fingers, Magnus’ magic as eager for contact as Alec is.

It’s not a perfect crown, not like the ones Magnus makes, but it’s elegant enough and it will hold together and that’s all Alec needs.

One crown is for his own brow and the other he holds carefully, with a care normally reserved for adamas fragments and newly born babes.

Magnus is on the phone, voice terse and bordering angry and Alec hides the crown behind his back.  The last thing he wants is Magnus reacting to the sight of it and ruining his phone call.

There are two ways it could go.

One, Magnus is overly charmed and his anger disappears, thus letting some undeserving lout get away with wasting his time.

Or two, he will become even more enraged and eviscerate his client until there is nothing left of them before kissing Alec breathless.

As much as Alec enjoys the latter option, he doesn’t want to risk the first and also, the client might be important.

Not more important than Alec and his flower crowns — Alec knows better than to even think such a thing near Magnus who will then utterly prove him wrong — but still, important enough to be careful.

Alec shuffles to the side and places the crown behind the teakettle, easy to retrieve but where Magnus won’t be able to see it from where his magic is rippling through the air.

Alec watches it with delighted amusement, reaching out his fingers to pass through the vibrant red energy and charmed when it turns purple-blue and wreathes around his fingers. 

It catches Magnus’ attention enough that his anger wanes enough for a delighted smile and the blowing of a magical kiss that Alec catches.

It’s warm and soft and filled with adoration and Alec wishes he had the magic to send one back, but instead he simple walks over and presses a gentle kiss to Magnus’ jaw and then his forehead.

Magnus relaxes then, leaning back against Alec when he braces himself, letting Magnus use his strength.

—

“What would I do without you, hmm?” Magnus murmurs quietly, the words almost too soft to be heard and then the moment is broken by yet another tedious question.

Magnus is about to send magic through the phone and set the werewolf he’s dealing with on fire.

Alas, Magnus cannot go killing all the alpha’s in the East Coast no matter how much easier it would make his life.

Even Alexander’s kiss to his hair doesn’t calm him.  Not when he catches the gentle scent of jasmine and realizes just how long he’s been on the call.

Alexander made himself a flower crown!

He now dons it, soft and luxurious and entirely made without Magnus magic — except the fact that it was grown with his magic but still, it should have been twinned by his fingers and magic.

Not that Alexander didn’t do a lovely job, but it’s the pride of it.

Alexander is supposed to be crowned by Magnus’ hand and he feels as though his client has stolen a bit of peace and happiness away.

It’s with anger sparking that he verbally cuts down the werewolf’s pride to a more manageable degree and then hangs up.

He’ll call back tonight.

Or tomorrow.

Whenever he next thinks of it and once he has corrected his erroneous mistake.

“Darling, I’ve failed you.” Magnus murmurs, truly distraught despite the fact that Alexander is looking at him with nothing but charmed fondness and love.

“Actually, I wanted to surprise you. I just didn’t want to interrupt.” And then Alexander is leaving him — which is truly the most heinous of crimes.  

Except then he is forgiven.

Instantly, because he’s made Magnus a charming matching crown with the slightest bit of a lopsided vine and Magnus will crush stars and diamonds to ensure that this crown never fades.

“I love it.” 

Magnus doesn’t even let Alexander speak, motioning with an eager gesture and it gets him several kisses before the crown is placed gently on his coiffed hair.

It smells divine but it’s even better because Alexander’s angelic magic is delicate and intertwined with Magnus’ own magic and the vines.

A small gift of himself that has Magnus pulling him in for a kiss.

-

yes Alec weighs his choices based on whether or not he thinks it will help or deter. like sometimes its good that he can redirect Magnus and sometimes, it wont actually help in the long run and he needs to consider that because they make each other too happy

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hi!! Hope everything is going well!

Could I Please ask for some bottom buggy (mayhaps with some watersports since I saw you had a interest) or some ftm crocodile being fucked into submission!

Have a nice day.

Ftm Sir Crocodile x male reader

Ficlet

I love Sir Crocodile so much 🗣️ 🗣️

Reader is part of Buggy’s crew, cuz I thought that would be hilarious. Reader doesn’t have a devil fruit, but is still super kickass. Hes kind of the information gatherer, smuggler, etc, for the Buggy crew. Reader is also normal human height.

Mixed terminology for Crocs bits. Also, breeding/pregnancy? kink warning ig. but its just mentioned for the fantasy.

The Cross Guild appeared great for any outsider or lesser in the know members, which was most of them. They all saw your captain as someone great and almost godly, thinking he was so much more than he was, but you had been with him for many years, even before the Buggy pirates had even been created. Shortly after the execution of Rogers, Buggy had stumbled into your path and had accidentally saved your life, and from then on you had been by his side.

Most people thought of you as something akin to an accountant or treasurer, wearing an outfit that looked very much like that of a ringmaster, long red tailcoat and top hat and all. You were always one of the first to run away, giving you a reputation of a coward who couldn’t fight.

The only one who truly knew how much of a threat you could be, would be your captain and his inner circle, which you were also part of. You might not have been the strongest physically compared to someone like Mihawk, but no one could gather information like you could, smuggle like you could, or have someone “disappear” like you could. Your network was so extensive that even the one they called Joker, who you knew was none other than Donquixote Doflamingo, was jealous.

That was why you knew everything about Sir Crocodile and Mihawk before the day was over when the Cross Guild was formed. You cowered off to the side, keeping up your weak act as you flinched at their raised voices or the light reflecting off Crocodiles golden claw.

They believed you a weak fool who’s only worth was your quick mind and ability to calculate numbers quicker than most computers, which resulted in them mostly dismissing you. It was a role you basked in and felt comfortable, using it to keep your true identity under wraps. That was until they pushed your captain too far, as Crocodile especially seemed to take great pleasure in antagonizing and hurting your captain.

You were protective, most pirates were, if they felt any sense of loyalty to their captain. It was because of that, that you dug up a trusted contact, a celestial dragon with greater access to seastone than anyone else you knew. Using measurements from the moment’s clothes had to be made, a pair of cuffs in just the perfect size soon arrived to you with the post.

It was easy to press Crocodiles buttons, to get him worked up by acting stupid and pathetic, just the way you knew made his blood boil. It was even easier to enrage him so far that he chased after you, so blinded by his anger that he didn’t even notice how you kept avoiding his sand, or how you were leading him further and further away from the rest of the guild.

When he finally caught up, Crocodile caged you against the wall, hook digging into the drywall as he almost snarled down at you, cigar crunched between his teeth as his purple eyes blazed. But mild confusion crossed his face as your fearful expression dropped, his body straightening as your eyes met his head on. Before Crocodile could order an explanation, a feeling of weakness crashed through his body, making his knees buckle enough that you had to catch him, supporting his towering weight and bulk.

His vision swam as you started dragging him along, his feet dragging along the floor because of his height compared to your own. Crocodile felt dizzy and mildly nauseous, his eyes finally catching the heavy bands around his wrist, the one he still had left. “ssseastone?” he slurred out, voice lighter than the growl you were used too, cigar long forgotten somewhere along the journey.

In the beginning, you had planned on torturing him, the blades strapped to your person burning at the thought, but as you threw him down almost carelessly on a barely clad bed, a different through passed through your mind.

A slight thrill ran down your spine as his purple eyes burnt into you, his usual anger still present, but mixed with something else, something deeper and hungrier. Soft pants left Crocodiles lips, sounding faintly struggled as the seastone drained the power from his body, leaving him limp and pliant.

You could see the heat rising to Crocodiles cheekbones as you started stripping off your usual getup, tailcoat slid off your shoulders and neatly folded, top hat placed down with care. “What the hell are you doing…” Crocodile rasped from the bed, his pupils blown as an unfamiliar need unfolded inside him, the familiar thrum of pleasure running through body.

Maybe it was his weakened state, but he swore his cunt was pulsing with need, especially as you unbuttoned the stark white shirt you always wore, revealing a tightly muscled and heavily scarred body underneath, leather straps adorned with vials and weapons stretched across your torso.

Crocodile tried to shuffle his legs, maybe to squeeze his thighs together, or to spread them further apart, he wasn’t sure, but all he could do was a minimal twitch and jolt. “I planned on cutting you up, making you beg for mercy. But from the looks of it… you wouldn’t mind some other kind of discipline” you murmur, almost stalking towards him where Crocodile was splayed out on top of the white sheets.

You could see all his muscles tense as you let your hands climb up his legs, up his thighs and stomach, traveling all the way up his arms towards his hook. A choked off noise leaves Crocodile as you remove his hook with ease, like you had done it a thousand times before, placing it off to the side with care.

“Behave yourself” you tell him, squeezing the sides of his jaw to make his lips part. Crocodile tried to growl or snap a threat, to snap his teeth at you or somehow fight back, but his body was mostly unresponsive, his tongue feeling thick and useless in his mouth.

A shiver of anticipation ran through Crocodile as you moved again, settling between his thick spread thighs. Your eyes met as you reach for his belt, your brow lifting as if asking if he wanted you to stop. You may be a pirate, but you had class and manners, at least when it came to stuff like this.

But when all Crocodile responded with was a sour expression and glare, you make easy work of his belt and slacks, tugging them down his hips and legs, throwing them off to the side with little care. Your disregard for his clothes made Crocodile grumble, but the noise was quickly silenced as you pressed your entire hand against his slick underwear, fingers teasing his hard t-cock and soaked folds.

“Tsk tsk, look at you, bet you just need someone to put you in your place, is that it?” you mumble in an almost mocking tone, looking up at him with an almost feral hunger in your eyes. Crocodile chokes on the words that want to form in his throat, some kind of rebuttal perhaps, that he would never want someone as low as you to do anything to him, but as you pinch his cock between your fingers, it morphs into a shaky moan.

Crocodile’s boxers as easily pulled off, thrown to the floor with a damp plap, making his face redden further as you only find amusement in the obvious sign of his arousal. Kicking off your pants and boxers, you crawl up the bed and sit between his thick thighs, pushing them further apart to expose where he only grows slicker, hole clenching around nothing as if begging you to fill it.

“What would they say, seeing the great Sir Crocodile, spread out like this, ready to take the cock of a feeble weak treasurer” you taunt, pressing your hips closer to his, so that you could drag the tip of your cock up and down through his folds. The act has Crocodile arching as good as he can with the cuff on, his eyes squeezing shut as he clenches his jaw, a breathy noise leaving him, folds only growing slicker around you.

Maybe it was your size difference, with you being average human size, compared to Crocodiles almost 9 feet, or maybe it was his gut deep arousal, but his hole didn’t need much prep for you to be able to fit inside.

That didn’t mean you were just gonna give it to him, since this was supposed to be a lesson. A stuttery moan spills almost silently from Crocodiles lips as your fingers rub through his folds, barely pressing against where he wants you the most. He had never imagined himself in a situation like this, splayed out and dripping for you, someone he had always just seen as a nuisance, but here he was.

“Come on Crocodile… ask nicely” your tone is almost cruel as you push only two fingers inside him, barely felt because of his size, but just enough to rub against his wet gummy insides and leave him aching for more. Crocodiles jaw clenches, barring his teeth as his head weakly rolls to the side, as if to hide his face into the sheets.

“Or… I could just leave you here, thighs spread open, cunt glistening with want. Im sure someone will pass by, and who wouldn’t want a chance to fill this” as if to exaggerate your point, you push two more fingers into his slick hole, burying them as deep as possible into Crocodiles wet insides, punching a gasp out of him.

Crocodile seems to debate it, if he wants to put his pride aside for someone like you, but his thoughtprocess is knocked off course as you pinch his cock with your free hand, twisting it cruelly. Had he not been wearing the seastone cuff, his thighs would have clamped shut and a shout would have left him, but now all his body could do was tense up as a wet keen tumbled out of him.

“P…please” Crocodile finally mumbles, voice small and almost shy, but it can barely be heard over the wet slick sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out of him, his wetness running down your palm and wrist in the process.

“Hm?” you hum, the questioning tone in it clear, as if you didn’t hear him at all, giving his cock another twist just because you could. “fuck me… please…” is gasped out, Crocodiles insides clenching around your slick fingers as they rub and prod around inside him.

Your fingers movements slow to a stop, silence filling the room long enough for Crocodile to peek an eye open and look down at you. Your eyes are intense as they bore into his, the predatory flare in them making Crocodiles insides quiver. “Normally id demand better than that, but I’m starting to pity you” you scoff out, withdrawing your fingers from his hold with a slick noise.

Instead of wiping them off on the sheets, you use the large amount of slick that had gathered in your palm to slick up your shaft, releasing a huffed exhale as Crocodiles eyes widen at the sight. “I’ve thought about making you ride me, so you’ll have to make yourself take it, but we can’t do that right now, can we” you eye the cuff around his one wrist, making Crocodile growl and spit out a weak warbled “fuck you”

His insult carries no heat, clearly only for show, his glare quickly wiped off his face as you finally push inside him. Crocodile needs little time to adjust, resulting in you almost immediately setting a bruising rough pace, drawing in and out of him with loud wet slick noises, his hole gripping onto you as he gasps and moans.

Reaching down, you push his shirt up just enough to splay a hand across his lower stomach, a foxlike grin spreading across your lips as you watch his hips weakly roll into your own. “If you weren’t such an asshole, I could fuck you whenever. Imagine that Crocodile, walking around, cunt leaking my cum, as you try to play tough.” You chuckle darkly, tone thick and hungry in the way only a predatory animal could possess.

As your cock rams into that sensitive spot inside him, Crocodile is finally starting to realize you are truly more than you seem, his cunt drooling a wet puddle under him on the sheets as you take him with a new hunger, a glint appearing in your eyes as your hand presses down harder on his stomach.

“I could knock you up you know, right here.” Is hissed out as you bottom out inside Crocodile, the words making him tighten up and shiver in want. “No one would find you so scary then, would they Crocodile. Waddling around, fat with my kid” you purr, letting both your hands splay across his stomach. It was all fantasy, but by God did it make Crocodile wet and wanting. Something about the fantasy of you, some lesser subordinate knocking him, Sir Crocodile, up, had him seeing double.

The seastone didn’t help with his woozy state, all attempts at forming words only becoming half formed and slurred, Crocodiles eyes going wet and glassy as that familiar feeling spread through his body. “in… inside me…” Crocodile slurs as you curse to yourself, clearly close to the finish line as well. Had it not been for the cuffs, he would have thrown his legs around you, squeezing you against his body to keep you inside him, but all he could do now was beg.

Crocodiles pride crumbled as your fingers squeezed his cock one last time, a pure orgasmic expression crossing his face as he gasped and moaned, his entire body twitching weakly as he came, wetting your cock and the sheets even further as the feeling thrummed through his entire body.

With a deep groan you bottom out inside Crocodile for a last time, letting your eyes squeeze shut as you spill inside him, coating his insides in a thick coat of white. Crocodile whimpers weakly at the feeling, trying to squeeze around you as if to milk your length for more.

He slumps against the sheets further than he already is, eyes falling shut in a relaxed exhausted expression. Crocodile barely notices as you pull out, white leaking out from between his folds to join his own mess on the sheets. He barely even notices you cleaning him up, only twitching and gasping softly when you clean up between his legs.

Its only when the seastone cuff leaves his wrist that Crocodile returns to himself somewhat, as the familiar feeling of his devilfruit washes through his body again. Squinting his eyes open, he catches sight of you getting dressed again, tucking on your shirt, then your coat, and lastly placing your hat on top of your head.

Even with his devilfruit returned to him, Crocodile still feels weak and exhausted, but the good type of exhausted one only gets after a good fuck. Part of him wants to ask you to stay, to hold him and pet his hair, to maybe mumble more dirty fantasies about knocking him up, and how you’d make him live as your pretty little housewife. But instead, Crocodile just grunts to get your attention, his attempt to demand to know where you are going.

“I have to get back to the others, since ill be taking over your duties for the rest of the day and tomorrow” you say, voice resolute and not allowing any denial or struggle. And normally Crocodile would have growled and rejected anyone taking over his duties, but for some reason, the idea of you taking care of him made him relax deeper into the bed, muscles lax and thoughts empty and calm for once.

Approaching him, you press a soft kiss to his forehead before telling him “this room is hidden away from everyone else, so take all the time you need. Ill check up on you later” as you pat his cheek. After telling him where the bathroom is, where he could find towels and replacement sheets and blankets, you were on your way, leaving Crocodile on his lonesome.

It took a while, but he finally pushed himself into a seated position before getting to his feet. The feeling of your cum trickling down the insides of his thighs as the familiar heat of arousal burning inside him once more, making Crocodile shuffle towards the bathroom you had pointed him towards. Even though you had just left, he could still get himself off a few more times from just the memory alone.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be disciplined by you, he wondered how you’d react if he caused issues with your smuggling routes. The idea sent a line of heat up his spine as he stepped into the shower, hand quickly traveling between his thighs, fingers burying themselves into his still sensitive hole, fantasies of hungry glare and cruel fingers filling his mind.

[diamondwerewolf]

I Also Wonder

Since AZ was an underutilized character in Pokemon XY, it's very easy to miss information about him. [I have a quick post with some bullet points on canonical details very easy to pass over if you aren't looking for info across all official materials.] Now that he will be a staple character in an expanded city, will they go in depth about his past, or still leave those previous blanks?

yes i'm gonna talk about this again i'll get to a point stick with me If you're new to him, or need a refresher:

---- AZ was the former King of Kalos from over 3'000 years ago. During his rule, a terrible war between unnamed regions broke out, in which lots of human and pokemon lives were sacrificed. It escalated so terribly, that there became a demand for more and more powerful fodder. This was at a time where pokemon were still considered tools or 'monsters' rather than creatures to be cherished and respected. Eventually, Kalos' own soldiers forcibly ceased AZ's beloved Floette, a gifted pokemon from his mother, to fight in the war. She did not return to him alive. Desperate to have his beloved partner back, AZ, who had already contributed miraculous technology to ancient society, built a crystalline machine that could harness the infinite energy of powerful pokemon, and bring her back to life. He succeeded in bringing her back, however...He was still deeply enraged with the state of affairs. The enemy and his own army be damned, he adjusted the machine, the ultimate weapon, to obliterate the war in its entirety. Friend and Foe, turned to ashes.

The price of reanimation is very steep. He was no better than the war for using pokemon lives in such a selfish way. This wasn't her partner anymore. After AZ's actions, Floette rightfully found him wicked, and left. Both cursed by the radiant energy of the machine, AZ's and Floette's life became eternal. For 3,000 years he wandered the world in search of his soul mate, until finally, at the end of pokemon XY, he battled the champion, and remembered how much he cherished pokemon. The wickedness in his heart was lifted, and with this, Floette finally returned to him again.

----

Quite a story. So what was the point in me saying all of that? There is...an entire additional subplot of the 3,000 year war that you can blink and miss. You can only find this if you take time to read books on one of the floors of Lysander's lab. The text is very brief, but the implications are significant.

What on earth...was going on between AZ and his brother. I want, more than anything, for AZ to mention something about that in PLZA. Or at least, be able to read about it somewhere. I am speculating based on what text we were given, but His unnamed brother MAY HAVE BEEN the cause of the war, and POSSIBLY the reason why AZ's own army betrayed him. I can not stress this enough, Floette's inclusion in the war was forced by Kalosian army. I assume there was some erosion of respect for the king for that level of insubordination to occur. Shouldn't something like that be forbidden?

In the Lab notes, AZ's brother was using the war to take Kalos for himself. He was so guilty after his brother disappeared, that he took it upon himself to burry the ultimate weapon. Why are you so guilty....what the hell did you do...?

The idea of 'family' and lineage is a theme I find prevalent in Pokemon XY, and I feel like they ran out of time to flush it out. I mean duh, it's 'france' kings and queens and all, but, still.

It's on the back burner when it =feels= like it's significant that all of these issues do appear to be family related. The fact that AZ and Lysandre are relatives is certainly an interesting choice, but I can't articulate what about it that makes me circle around it in wonder.

Info Text in game is stated so casually and matter of factly, but wait wait wait hold on just a fucking minute... what do you mean his own brother-

I hope that was followable ^^;

[turbulentscrawl]

Modern AU: Norton Campbell

You've heard of modern reader? Well now it's time for Modern canon!

- Previously, he worked in the oil industry, but a nasty accident he doesn’t speak about has left him with his fair share of burn scars. Norton now works as an independent contractor, known around town as a do-it-all type of handyman. He rarely works with or for group projects, preferring to be hired directly by property owners for the work they need done. He’s his own boss, and he makes his own schedule, but he’s a workaholic.

- He was raised by his uncle Benny after his parents died when he was still very young—his mother shortly after childbirth, due to complications, and his father in a work-related accident. Benny’s health deteriorated fast, though, and as soon as he was legally able Norton picked up a part-time job to help pay the bills and build a college fund. (Or several, more like, and he was known to bounce around for better pay.)

-Some time in his senior year of high school, he discovered that Benny was keeping secrets; Benny had not only convinced his father to stay in the oil industry after he was born, but wasted and gambled away all the life insurance money from his death. Enraged and betrayed, Norton dropped out of school and left. He drove as far away as he could with the little money he had, and then lived out of his truck for a while. Eventually, he made enough money to rent a shitty little motel room by the week, and then a shitty little apartment.

-After leaving, he at first went into the oil industry like his old man and Benny had been—it was something he was familiar enough with and hard labor paid better than being a busboy again. But after a few years there was an accident which left him with several burn scars. He was left in pain for a long time, but the worker’s comp paid for most of his medical bills and his rent, giving him just enough time to get his GED. After that, he started into construction, plumbing, and other handiman things he was knowledgeable in after years of being poor and self-sufficient.

-The accident, this time, was more of an ACTUAL accident. Norton had a disagreement with some of the coworkers he hated. There was an altercation, and something ignited…and Norton was the only one who got out. He doesn’t talk about it, mostly out of shame and a sense of guilt, but he copes by telling himself they deserved it.

- He drives the same beat-up old pickup truck Benny bought for him as a kid. It was transferred into his name when he was 18, so Benny can’t swipe it from under his nose. (Legally, anyway.) He could probably get a loan and buy a new car, but at this point he prefers to keep the old hunk of junk. Maybe he’s sentimental, or maybe the weekly maintenance he has to do on it is just therapeutic in a way.

-Not a super techy guy. He keeps up with industry news and learns new skills often, but his truck, his phone, and most of his home appliances are older. He’s good enough with fixing things that he hasn’t bothered to replace them.

-He’s not much of a decorator, either, but he’s good at thrifting and building his own furniture with recycled materials. His apartment/home is a bit of a hodgepodge, with mostly bare walls, but what he does have I impressive in its own way. Any décor he has is likely gifted.

-He’d like to own a home one day, but he’s playing things by ear. He realizes that might be asking a lot while he’s got no real support system.

-He’s a fair cook, but a lot of what he makes could be called “struggle meals.” They’re what he’s been used to for a long time.

-He’s a little paranoid about pumping gas into his truck, but he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. On his days off, he tends to walk to take public transit to save some money and gas mileage.

-He’s that guy with a 7-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, bodywash etc men’s soap. Someone please teach him better ways.

[the-real-sasuke-uchiha]

It's been, like, a decade since the story has completely ended (... I don't acknowledge that spin off with the kids or the weird novels), but I still don't understand what people mean when they say Sasuke has a lot to apologize/repent for. What exactly does he have to apologize for? The only thing he ever did wrong was attack Karin to get to Danzo, and he already apologized to her for that. His desire for vengeance was completely selfless and motivated by love and respect for his clan. He didn't attack innocents. He didn't involve anyone else in his problems. Yet, so many fans love how Shikamaru got revenge on Hidan when, to me, it just emphasizes how selfless and justified Sasuke is in contrast. Shikamaru wants to avenge Asuma who died fairly in battle on a mission because he wasn't strong enough. He even tells Tsunade he would leave the village regardless of if she allowed it or not. He involved Ino and Chouji, rushed in without knowledge of Kakuzu, and almost got them killed immediately. And Asuma is just a teacher! not even a fmily or clan member! They all would've died if it weren't for Kakashi being there to help them. Whereas Sasuke takes on his burden alone.

And for all that the fandom likes to critique Kishimoto on his writing choices, he's not a horrible writer. This sequence is purposeful. Shikamaru was the one who led the Sasuke retrieval mission. And shortly after Hidan's death, Sasuke kills Itachi. It was a well-structured sequence showing the validity of Sasuke's motivations compared to Shikamaru's whose motives weren't as justified in comparison, despite the validity of his feelings.

So, it's not that no one in the story can understand Sasuke--they can! All the characters just want to project things onto Sasuke. Naruto wants Sasuke to be a surrogate/prerequisite for the village to validate his sense of self and carry the burden of Naruto's loneliness. Sakura wants him to return her empty "love." Kakashi wants to right his wrongs vicariously through Sasuke and making him return Sakura's affection like he wished he could have for Rin, be a present friend for Naruto like he wishes he could have for Obito, not seek revenge because Kakashi is a mediator meant to to maintain the status quo in the village (a guard dog/"Hound" lol). Itachi wants Sasuke to be a blank slate anyone can impress whatever upon: he wants Sasuke to value the village over their clan and family (which itself is incomprehensible with the feudal structure the setting is based on). The village, and Naruto once he becomes Hokage, wants Sasuke to be a tool to use for the village's benefit. Maybe the only thing Sasuke has to apologize for is being a the protagonist of a revenge-based seinen but forced to be the deuteragonist in a battle shounen 🤷🏽‍♀️.

Dear anon, thank you for this gem. I don't know what else to add, because this is so perfect on its own.

For the record, I dislike Shikamaru, but I think he was right to want to avenge his sensei and go after Hidan. What is totally enraging is that he gets sympathy and assistance for doing all the things that Sasuke is trashed for. He is hateful and vengeful, and nobody tells him to just let go and not get consumed by revenge. He risks his friend's lives and gets zero reproaches, while Sasuke gets emotionally blackmailed by Naruto for all the kids that risked his life trying to forcefully bring him back, even when Sasuke had zero control over that. Kakashi goes far and beyond to help him, when he had tied Sasuke to a tree to lecture him about revenge. There is just so much hypocrisy that it hurts.

I am tired of reading all the ridiculously absurd "wrongs" that Sasuke supposedly did. This is a freaking show about murderer ninjas, but nobody seems to have a body count except for Sasuke. Which gets inflated to ridiculous levels, because Sasuke is apparently to blame not only for the crimes he committed, but also for the ones he imagined. He has no right to be angry and upset, he has no right to fight for his justice, because, in a world where the end justify the means and shinobi are meant to behave as tools that sacrifice everything for a mission, Sasuke is the only ninja that is demanded to find his way without even scratching a fly.

Sasuke has nothing to apologise for. He is the one being owned serious apologies and reparations. From everyone. From Sakura, for sexually harassing and trying to murder him. From Kakashi, for being the shittiest and most biased sensei, for being a hypocrite hokage that never attempted to make justice and for never prosecuting the surviving instigators of the Uchiha massacre. And from Naruto, for glorifying Hiruzen and for the same reasons as hokage Kakashi, because he too swept everything under the rug and never even tried to make justice.

Sasuke did nothing wrong. He grew just too magnificent for an antagonist, and they had to murder his character and his soul to make main character shine in his dumbness.

[sukunasdumbestchef]

way how i see you (long story version)

trueform!Sukuna x Blind!fem!reader.

꒰A beautiful woman, with a pleasant life, nothing could get better… However, one unexpected day put you in a horrible situation, your husband beat you to have money and 'honor', putting you in an arranged marriage with the cruel and merciless Ryomen Sukuna. However, you hide a secret, you are blind.꒱

╭ ➤୨୧ Warning: Angsty, Arranged marriage, [name] had a shitty husband. Crap story with crap writing (I have no self confidence <3)

╭ ➤୨୧ Words: + 2,6 what? It looks much bigger when writing…

the other version

bad english.

For obvious reasons, your life changed drastically after your vision got worse, the world around you lost its colors and beauty every day.

Her world became just silhouettes moving around, almost colorless and blurred. But, you were aware of some things, just by looking at the silhouettes, you know how to differentiate an animal from a human, or if someone uses hair accessories. You weren't completely blind, but you were blind enough to be considered blind and have difficulties.

However, you noticed that no one noticed your loss of vision. You continued your life, pretending everything was fine. Your loss of vision became a big secret, which you tried hard to keep, afraid that your life would get worse and you would end up alone.

Today in the village, someone caught everyone's attention, you couldn't see the person properly, but you recognized a male voice. The man informed everyone in the village with his loud and clear voice: "… The King of Curses wants volunteers for a marriage…" These were the words that left everyone's jaw dropped, he continued "… The most eye-catching one will win, and the family will gain reward and honor." And that was it, the entire crowd was speechless, moved by money and the honor of marrying such a grotesque but divine man as the King of Curses. But most of all, the people were afraid to refuse, that the king would get enraged and end their lives and stories in the blink of an eye.

You obviously refused, there are so many other women, all different and talented. You were heading back to your home, but you were stopped by your own husband, a grip your arm. "Where are you going? Didn't you listen to him? You're perfect…" He says, you look at him confused. The husband pulled her back to that man, raising his arm against her will, you try to push him away. "Here! This young lady! The most beautiful! The most intelligent! Take her with you!" Her husband screamed, you pushed him, accidentally hitting him in the face, you successfully let go of his grip. You were going to retort, but people pushed you to follow the girls and the two people.

You can't see anything, the silhouettes will blend together and you won't be able to distinguish the crowd of people. You felt a strong grip on your arm, your eye noticed something light in color and a voice said. "Start walking, we don't have all day." You analyzed where the voice came from, without success when trying to differentiate which gender this voice was from. However, the light-colored clothing made it easier to follow.

You were probably crying already, turned around, seeing only the big gate of the village, you couldn't even see your husband anymore… who literally gave you to another man as merchandise. Eyes filled with tears, which made it even more difficult to see. Just follow the white silhouette, said to yourself.

The walk was completely silent. They walked for around 20 minutes or more, you saw a house… you think… your doubt was answered with the sound of the door sliding, and the silhouettes entering. You listened and counted the steps of others, locating yourself and finding out where the steps would be. You were mentally thankful that it was bright inside, the light and dark tones of people's kimonos were different, as was their hair.

"Ladies, these women are going to help you get ready for the big meeting with the king." The male voice said.

"I hope you are not reckless and disrespectful towards the king, know your place, and only speak if he addresses you…" The person with light hair said, this person sounded colder and crueler than the other guy. But, they was giving you a warning so you don't die because of stupidity…

You followed the other volunteers, it was a pleasant room, you guessed it by the good freshly cleaned smell. All the silhouettes sat on the floor facing each other. You did do the same. You hear footsteps coming your way, a silhouette of… a kimono? Flowery? You kick what this person wears. They sit in front of you, "Good afternoon, lady. I'm here to help you dress up formally and beautiful for the king's presence" sounds like a sweet old woman. You smiled, and greeted her.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I appreciate the help" You really appreciate it, it would be a great difficulty to put on makeup and pretend to see clearly.

"Alright, let's begin. The king will come soon…" The woman quickly begins to put white powder on her face, and she touches her lips with a reddish tone. "There, you're very beautiful, my lady…" You felt flushed with the compliment.

"Thank you, but is that all I need to look beautiful in front of the king?" You ask, you actually don't care… you just wanted to get out of here, but… you have no choice.

"The king said he preferred it this way, so he would have a clear view of their natural faces… but, I'm sure he doesn't care." She answered him, giving a small laugh as she stood up. You got up and she helped you put on a Jūnihitoe.

Despite the compliments murmured by the old women, the happy noises from the other volunteers for also wearing a jūnihitoe. You have a huge desire to see yourself wearing this outfit, it wasn't the first time, you wore one like it at your wedding. But, despite the compliments you receive… You didn't see all the details, colors or designs on the fabric. With that all the sadness mixed, you came back to reality… Your husband 'sold' you and you are volunteering to marry the cruelest curse… and what will happen if he doesn't like you?

"You have sad eyes." A whisper from the sweet lady made you come back. You removed the water from your eyes with a finger. "You are so beautiful…. I hope you change that king's cold heart. But even if he doesn't choose you as his wife, maybe you can be a maid or something…" She said, as if it was a good thing.

"No… I'm sure that won't happen." You replied, your voice cracked in the sentence.

"Why?" She asked.

"My eyes are no good… normal people already leave me aside because of that… I imagine he'll throw me away like an animal." You explained, not directly saying it, but it seems that from the small gasp of surprise you heard, she understood.

"Oh, my poor girl… Are you blind? This… is horrible… You can't…" She seems lost for words, but you already anticipated a reaction like this. Before you could speak, the door opens.

"In positions, now. The King of Curses is here and wants this to happen quickly." Someone said, probably the person with white hair. You all took a stand. The sweet woman helped you and whispered:

"I have hope in you." Your expression softened upon hearing the woman's sweet and motivating phrase, even if you don't know her. You really needed that, some comfort.

But that warm feeling in your heart turned into creeps and an overwhelming fear throughout the body, as if you were going to die. Your breathing becomes irregular, thinking if you make one small mistake, everything will result in your dead body on the floor.

Your keen addition hears heavy footsteps in the distance, approaching. The door slides open, making your body shake in harmony. Was it him? You couldn't say, but you looked up for a moment, it was a huge silhouette, you felt a thunderous and terrifying presence and aura. It was him, definitely. The king, Ryomen Sukuna, was in the same place as you.

Swallowed dryly, you felt your throat catch in the process. Your clothes started to itch. You nearly screamed when you felt a poke on your arm.

"Slowly lower yourself to the ground and bow in respect to the king, without eye contact."

That sweet woman whispered to you. Then, you get on your knees, and place your forehead on the floor, your body as close to the floor as possible. Soon after, the entire room becomes silent.

"Get up."

A husky voice spoke to all of you. it was a dark and haunting melody tone worthy of a merciless king that everyone must obey and fear.

At the same moment everyone got up. You hear a snap of fingers that causes a scream from one of the voluteries, a large fall was heard and another followed. Your eyes popped out when you heard the terrible noises, your mind had already formed a terrifying scene. Moving only your eyes, you peeked in the corner of your eye, everything was even more blurry, things started to mix up and you couldn't differentiate

You felt a thousand things at once. Your mind and heart are racing, your entire body is shaking, even your teeth, your eyes are watering, but you hold on, not being able to let even a single tear fall.

Sukuna's large silhouette approached, you could hear the cries of one of the volunteers. Her crying was cut short, replaced by another fall.

"How dare you look at me without permission? Stupid woman… died like the other two. Am I wasting time?" Sukuna complained, giving you goosebumps. They really died…dead, by doing…nothing.

Keeping your head slightly lowered, you're sure you could die just looking at him, and you're not even sure where you're looking, your tears made everything worse. While you were trying to figure out what was going on, you saw something move. Before you tried to find out, you felt a strong poke on your arm, on the side where the sweet old woman was.

Sukuna stared at you, you heard a light chuckle. "Look at me." he ordered. You lifted your face, thanks to the lights you notice his shadow, he is much taller than you. You find yourself imagining his face, your vision of his face was all mixed tones. "You're pale." You didn't respond to him….should you do that?

You saw something approaching his face, it was a hand but there was something dark on it, like bracelets or something. A light touch on your face, but the hand was big and rough, you denied the possibility of it being his, because you didn't believe he would do that. After that, you felt him put strong pressure on your chin, moving your head to the side.

"You're so scared that you don't even know where you should face…" he laughed arrogantly again, and removed his hand. You remain silent, and you see him move again. "I'll…take this one."

Who? You? She herself couldn't say, she wiped her tears trying to see better, and you felt someone approaching you

"You did it…he chose you…" The sweet old woman told you, which made you open your eyes wide in surprise, gasping. You could see the big smile of the old woman, which made you do the same.

"I didn't even know what happened…I feel relieved, thank you very much ma'am!" You thanked her, but you should now follow Sukuna, before that you and the woman removed the junihitoe, returning to wearing your clothes. The lady accompanied you outside, where it was still light and daylight. The wind made you take a deep breath after a long time of suffocation.

"Now…you're after him…Have a great life, my lady…" The lady said, it seems like she mumbled something to someone, but you were very happy to have lived to pay attention. The lady left, and you waved to her, soon after following the huge silhouette of your newest husband and king.

It was a very silent walk, no one said anything, including you. But, all the events made you exhausted, all you wanted was a nap or something like that. But you feel like this is just the beginning.

Now, lifting your head, seeing the enormous light of the setting sun, saying goodbye to the day. You wanted to ask if you were arriving, it would be difficult to walk in the dark. As you walked, you reached the residence where Ryomen stayed. The king entered without saying anything, you feel he was stressed…

"We're here, now back off" The monotonous voice said, you turned to them, thinking it had been addressed to you. The white-haired person just kicked that man out, and turned to you. "This is your new home, make yourself at home I guess." Now they talk to you, you nod your head, turning inside.

It was very empty…. there was only a candle, you couldn't see anything else.

"I am Uraume." They identified themselves, bending down in front of you. "You must be [name], am I right?" , you nodded again, forcing a smile, Uraume seems not to have done the same.

"Yes…" was the only thing you replied, you feel an awkwardness between you two, honestly, you think that this Uraume shouldn't even be human, they seem to be close to Sukuna however…

The room seemed to get darker, meaning it was harder to see. You look around, nervous. Until Uraume interrupts you: "Do you have… something to tell?" This question made you open your eyes, worrying that you weren't hiding the fact of your blindness much. You quickly shake your head

"No, no… I have nothin-"

"You're lying, forgive my impudence. Do you have vision loss?" They interrupted you abruptly, but they at least apologized to you. The direct and raw question made your body freeze and your jaw drop slightly. It seems like your acting failed…

"N-No.. how… wait"

"The old lady told me. I wanted to confirm by asking you." They explained. You felt like…you were going to die or something, like you had committed a sin… You swallowed and took a deep breath, ready to admit everything:

"Yes…I have…I- I'm blind" You said, feeling the tears "But not completely! I can see you…not now, but… I- I can pretend to see everything' I- don't tell him." You made a desperate mess explaining to them, and you still couldn't even see Uraume's reaction.

"I would tell you, but… I think it's better that you tell him, when you're ready, I advise you to be quick though… My king has no patience, and don't keep any other secrets from him…" Uraume replied, in his voice, It wasn't surprising that his secret was exposed. You nodded, wiping away your tears. "Now…I'm going to guide you to your room, I'm going to make sure to keep it well lit, does that help?"

"Yes…" you replied, feeling their extremely cold hand on your arm, they murmured 'excuse me' and guided you to a room, they helped you sit on the floor. The room was pure pitch black, you could see absolutely nothing. Did you hear them leave, is that it? Will they leave you here alone? Even if-

"Here, these are the only candles we have.." They comeback, and lit the candles, but you still didn't see anything, but… you appreciated their action. They poked you, and handed you a cloth. "It's a newer and cleaner kimono, you'll have to dine next to the king every day. Do you need help putting it on?"

"No, thank you. But I'm going to need help getting to… get to where dinner will be." You explained.

"Yes, I understand. I'll be outside the door, you can call me when you're done." You nodded and heard them leave. Now, you needed to get dressed. It wasn't that difficult for someone experienced like you. You sat on the floor, feeling the kimono, knowing what the front of it was. You got dressed. Now…you're going to face a horrendous moment, having dinner with the king… And worse, you have to find a way to tell him your secret.

Feeling fear cover his entire body, thinking about the possibilities he could do when he finds out. Your hot tears returned, you remained on the floor having your little moment. Until the door opens and:

"[Name], Sukuna wants you there now…are you ready?"

That's it, I didn't continue because I thought it would be too long………..

I have a few things to say:

Thank you very much for the notification, I'm really happy. And I'm not posting anything because I was a little busy with things in life..

[antiquitiesandlabyrinths]

. . .Osiris

Osiris (Great and Beautiful is He) is the God of the Underworld; its King and Pharaoh ruling over the Duat. He is pictured here on the far left, His skin green and His body in mummiform. This is commonly how He is depicted; as a green-skinned, mummified man.

Son of Nut, the Sky Goddess, and Geb, the Earth God, Osiris was the first King of Egypt in accordance with Kemetic mythology, although there are stories that recount Geb, His father, being King before Him. There are a great deal of myths and stories that surround and involve Osiris, and I suppose it is important to at least skim over them before discussing hard facts about Him, as it gives some reference as to who He is and what the culture surrounding Him is like.

Osiris Myth

After the world was created, the Demiurge (who changes according to myth, and can be Neith, Ra, Amun, Ptah, or others) produces children; in the most popular form of this creation story, it is usually Ra who births the first Gods. They are Shu and Tefnut, Air and Moisture. Shu and Tefnut then form a union and birth two children of Their own: Nut and Geb, Sky and Earth. Nut and Geb were very much in love and refused to separate from each other, which, of course, caused a problem, because if the sky and the earth are eternally in contact, there is no space for anything to live and walk upon the earth. Ra made it so Nut and Geb were forever separated, by having Shu, air, stand atop Geb and hold Nut up as the sky. But Nut was already pregnant. When Ra discovered this, He was enraged, and forbade Nut from ever giving birth on any day of the year.

Nut cried to Djehuty (Thoth), and Thoth devised a plan. He went to Khonsu, God of the Moon, and set up a gamble, saying that every round of the game Senet Khonsu lost, He would have to give Nut some of His moonlight. Khonsu ended up losing so many times that Nut had enough moonlight for five days––five days that weren't in the calendar. This allowed Her to give birth on those five days, and on each day She had a different child; Ausir (Osiris), Wr-Heru (Horus the Elder), Sutekh (Set, Seth), Auset (Isis), and Nebet-Het (Nephthys). Nut and Geb were still forever separated by atmosphere (Shu), but the five Gods were birthed, and Osiris, as the eldest son, became King of the Living World.

As a side note, all Gods do have ancient Egyptian names which are different from Their Greek and now modern names. For convenience's sake, and to avoid confusion, I will use the names They are most known by; Their Greek/modern names. And as another side note, there are a lot of variations on this story. I will be piecing together a lot of different ideas but I will be leaving some things out for the sake of cohesion.

When Osiris came to Egypt, He found the people there to be chaotic and lawless. As King, He instituted laws and spread ma'at, which is truth, justice, harmony, and order. Egypt flourished under His rule and the people were incredibly happy, as all were equal, and with the fertility of the God-King, the crops were always bountiful and food was plenty. He brought not only law and prosperity, but also the right way to worship, and the teachings of agriculture.

Set, God of chaos, confusion, the desert, and of foreigners, and the youngest brother of the Ennead, grew to be quite jealous of His older brother. There are many variations and the most popular variation of this story comes from the end of the New Kingdom (1550-1070 BC), where Set fashions a fabulous coffin in the perfect measurements of Osiris, throws a party, and tells the party-goers that whomever the coffin fits may have the coffin as a gift. When Osiris fits perfectly, Set quickly shuts and bolts the coffin and throws it in the Nile (this version of the myth gives an origin to the idea that people who drowned in the Nile were holy). His coffin drifts downstream and into the Mediterranean, where it washes ashore in Phoenicia, in Byblos. The coffin wedges itself into a growing tamarisk tree, a tree which envelops the coffin. Eventually the tree is cut down and used as a pillar in the palace in Byblos.

Isis, Osiris' wife and sister, searched far and wide for Her husband, and did eventually find Herself in Byblos. The story is quite long and complicated, but in the end She convinced the King to give Her the pillar, and when she returned to Egypt, She hid Osiris in a swampy area of the Nile delta, and bade Her sister, Nephthys, to watch over Him while She went in search of healing herbs. But Seth heard that Osiris was back, and so after interrogating His sister-wife, Nephthys, He found Osiris, cut His body into pieces, and threw them into the Nile.

Isis was horrified at what transpired in Her absence, but She immediately set to work on finding the many pieces of Her husband with the help of Her sister, Nephthys. They managed to find every piece of His body except His phallus, which had been eaten by an oxyrhyncus fish, a fish that was thus forbidden to eat.

With the pieces of Osiris reassembled, and the healing powers of Isis in full power, Osiris was brought back to life, but incomplete. Isis assumed the form of a kite, and from above drew out the seed of Osiris, impregnating Herself with Their child: Horus the Younger. But Osiris, still incomplete, could not properly rule over the land of the living any longer.

This is why He is the ruler of the dead––He was once the king of the living, was killed, and was resurrected, and this is what every ancient Egyptian expected and hoped would happen to them: that they would die and be resurrected. In tombs and mortuary temples you will always see Pharaohs associating themselves with Osiris.

But this long myth I have just told you is not the only version of the story, and in my opinion, it is definitely the longest version of the story. Back in the Old Kingdom and Middle Kingdom there were several different versions; for example, Set's motive is different, ranging from revenge for Osiris kicking him, to revenge for Nephthys (Seth's sister-wife) sleeping with Osiris (which eventually births Anubis). Some texts claim that Seth took on the form of a wild animal, such as a crocodile or a hippopotamus, and killed Osiris that way. In others, Osiris is drowned. In some, the steps surrounding the coffin are skipped, and Osiris is simply cut up, and His pieces scattered around Egypt; a version which explains the many cult centers of Osiris claiming to be a place where Osiris is buried. Osiris' resurrection is also often helped along by other Gods such as Thoth (God of wisdom) and Anubis (God of embalming). In some versions, Set is killed for His actions. In most He is simply defeated and driven from the land, as chaos is necessary for balance and harmony, and thus cannot be killed. And the story that I have told is from the Late Period, recorded by Plutarch, and does not really go along with many Egyptian accounts, which often find Osiris' penis intact.

So that is the Osiris myth with all of its' intricacies and changing rhythms over the course of 4,000 years of Egyptian history. It embodies a huge amount of cultural practices and religious ideas within ancient Egypt, including the idea of truth, harmony, and justice, as well as resurrection, the afterlife, healing, and the workings of the cosmos. I've decided to leave out the later parts involving Osiris' son, Horus, and His fight with Set, for now because this does not directly involve Osiris, and that is our topic for this post.

Tradition, History, and Culture

Worship of Osiris dates back to the Old Kingdom, but the idea of Osiris is likely older than this. Before Osiris was actually Khentiamenti, an agricultural God centered in Abydos, a city which would later become the cult center of Osiris. Khentiamenti means 'Foremost of the Westerners', a title for the ruler of the dead, as the dead resided in the west, where the sun set each day. But Osiris Himself is not found mentioned in any texts or carvings until the 5th Dynasty, where He is depicted as a man wearing a divine wig. Later on He would take on the form we know Him best in––wrapped in a white mummy shroud, wearing an atef crown with ostrich plumes on the sides.

The mummy shroud He is depicted in forever associates Him with death and with the essential story behind Him, which is why I found it so important to start off with the Osiris Myth. This myth is also why He consumed and took the place of Khentiamenti; the name Khentiamenti, Foremost of the Westerners, instead became a title for Osiris as the King of the blessed dead. Another common epithet/name of Osiris is Wennefer (Omnophris), meaning 'The Beautiful One', 'The Beneficent One', and more archaically, 'One Whose Body Did Not Decay'. Among these names He was also called 'The Lord of Love', 'The King of Living', and 'The Eternal Lord'. From the Early Dynastic Period up until the end of the Ptolemaic Dynasty, when Rome conquered Egypt, Osiris was one of the most highly worshipped and revered Gods of Egypt.

Osiris was associated with the Nile river, with its' renewal and life-giving abilities, as one of Osiris' domains and powers was fertility, as well as rebirth. Another of His duties, evidence of which originates in the New Kingdom, was to act as judge of the dead; being King, He sat on the tribunal with the 42 Judges in the famous Weighing of the Heart ceremony. In this ceremony, which took place in the afterlife, the deceased would have to stand before the court and place their soul up for judgement. If it weighed lighter than the feather of Ma'at, representing all justice, truth, and harmony, then the heart acted well in life and would be allowed eternal happiness in the Field of Reeds. If not, the heart, and thus the person, would be consumed by Ammit and committed to nothingness. So Osiris would sit in on this tribunal and judge who entered His kingdom, as it was His domain. In this role, and in His role as King of the Living, as well, He was the embodiment of harmony, law, and justice.

"Most of his appeal was based on his embodiment of the cosmic harmony. The rising Nile was his insignia, and the moon’s constant state of renewal symbolized his bestowal of eternal happiness in the lands beyond the grave. In this capacity he also became the model of human endeavors and virtues..." (The Complete Gods And Goddesses Of Ancient Egypt, p.307)

As I mentioned earlier, Abydos became His cult center, as it was the cult center of the God who came before Him, whose traits He subsumed. It became a very popular burial site, as legends would say that Abydos was where Osiris was truly buried, and the people wanted to be buried as close as possible to Osiris. At one point they believed an ancient tomb there––which was actually the tomb of an Early Dynastic King––to be the tomb of Osiris, which they much revered, and left so many offerings in clay pots that Arabs would later call the site 'Umm el Qa'ab'; Mother of Pots. But this was not the only burial site of Osiris; since many variations of the myth include Set chopping up and dismembering Osiris into many parts, ranging from 14 to 42 different parts. These parts were scattered across Egypt, so many cities and nomes could claim that they had a part of Osiris buried in their domain. For example, far in the south, the island of Bigah claimed to be the burial site of Osiris' left leg, and thus the source for the yearly Nile inundation.

Going back to the Osiris Myth, after Osiris died and became the ruler of the dead, His son took His place as King of the Living: the falcon God, Horus (Heru the Younger). After the brief bout of chaos brought about under Set's rule, Horus took over (after much deliberation from the Gods) and order was restored. Because of this story, Pharaohs would not only associate themselves with Osiris in death, but with Horus in life. Each Pharaoh, as they came to the throne, would become the living embodiment of Horus on earth, the son of Osiris. In this way, Isis was also the mother of every Pharaoh, and their protector. And, to added extent, each Pharaoh would have a personal name, and then a Horus name granted to them when they ascended to the throne.

"It is for this reason that Osiris is so often depicted as a mummified pharaoh; because pharaohs were mummified to resemble Osiris. The image of the great mummified god preceeded the practice of preparing the royal body to look like Osiris... The king's appearance as modeled after Osiris' extended throughout his reign; the famous flail and shepherd's staff, synonymous with Egyptian pharaohs, were first Osiris' symbols as the flail represented the fertility of his land while the crook symbolized the authority of his rule." (Osiris, World History Encyclopedia, Joshua J. Mark)

Osiris can also be represented by a number of physical symbols, such as the crook and flail that He carries in almost all representations of His earthly form. The crook, which is the striped hook He carries, represents power/authority, and is a symbol of the Pharaoh. The flail, which is the instrument in His other hand, represents the fertility of the Nile, and as an extension, the fertility of Osiris Himself. But the crook and flail, though both seen typically as symbols of Pharaonic power, are actually the tools of a shepherd. There is reasonable evidence, thusly, to suggest that the physical origins of the idea of Osiris may not be that of a great King, but of a ruler of a shepherd tribe in the Nile Delta, whose rule was so beneficent that it led to him being worshipped as a God. For Egyptologists, this theory comes from His association with Andjety, a predynastic God-King worshipped in the Delta who also bore the crook and flail as His symbols. This, however, has not and likely cannot be fully proven. But the postulation is still interesting nonetheless!

Osiris' ba soul had its' own culture of worship, a practice of soul-worship that is prevalent in the cults of several other Gods, such as Hathor (HwtHer). In this form, Osiris was known as Banebdjedet, meaning 'The Ba of the Lord of the Djed,' which in English terms means 'The Soul of the Lord of the Pillar of Continuity', as ba means soul, and djed is the symbol for a pillar, which represented the backbone of Osiris. Interestingly, the name Banebdjedet is feminine, as the letter t denotes a feminine word or name in ancient Egyptian; although there are also variations on this name that exclude the t in favour of the alternative, Banebdjed. Banebdjedet, Osiris' ba soul, was worshipped mainly in Mendes, a city in Lower Egypt, in the Delta.

This leads to an interesting point concerning the androgyny of Osiris, a subject I found while researching for this post. Osiris' fertility comes from His castration and then being healed by the mother Goddess, Isis. Not only that, but both men and women identified themselves with Osiris in death. Then the name for His ba personified as another God is feminine, although representations of Banebdjedet are overwhelmingly male. Before anyone attacks me, I am not claiming that Osiris is a genderless God or King––just that He has some traits of androgyny, which I find interesting and love to study in ancient cultures, and I thought it would be good to mention for anyone else similarly interested.

Worship, Festivals, and Cult Activities

When it comes to the practices surrounding Osiris' cult, we actually know a good deal of information regarding the activities of worshippers and priests. Osiris' cult and worship was so widespread and lasted long enough that it could be recorded by the earliest Greek historians, and remained carved in temple walls for thousands of years. Among the most well-known cultic tradition is the Osiris Bed.

The Osiris Bed is rather well documented, as it was an object placed in tombs. It was not a bed for the deceased to lie in, but instead a box made of wood or clay, moulded into the shape of Osiris, in which the fertile Nile soil was placed and seeds were planted. These boxes were then wrapped in white mummy linens, and the seeds sprouted through, representing the resurrection and fertility of Osiris, and the crops that grew each year in cycles. One of the most famous of these beds was found in King Djer's tomb, a King from the Early Dynastic Period; the 2nd King ever of the unified Egypt. Coincidentally (or, perhaps, not so coincidentally) King Djer's tomb was the tomb which pilgrims believed to be Osiris' burial site.

While the Osiris Bed is far from the only practice and tradition of the Osiris cult, it does show the rich cultural practices and symbolism present in His worship. Let's look at some other examples of the practices of Osiris' cult.

Similar to the Osiris bed were Osiris gardens, which were essentially the same concept; fertile soil was planted inside a vessel shaped into the form of Osiris, and seeds were settled within to grow. These beds were tended to during festivals instead of being buried in a tomb.

There were a great many festivals, and each of them quite popular according to their time period, dedicated to the story and symbolism of Osiris. Some festivals started with recounting the mournings of Isis and Nephthys, Osiris' sister-wife and sister, in the form of a drama acted out in a call-and-response format. Another drama acted out for the glory of Osiris was more in the form of an actual fight that anyone could participate in; it was modelled after The Contendings of Horus and Set, which I briefly mentioned as a long and drawn-out argument between Horus and Set over who deserved Osiris' vacant throne after He had died. On this occasion, people would battle out and reenact the events of the story until the side of Horus finally won and victory was achieved. Afterwards, the celebrations commenced in honoring the restoration of order, and the gold-encased shAwyt-nTr (the Holy Statue) of Osiris would be taken out and lavished with offerings. Osiris, in the form of this statue, would be paraded throughout the city of Abydos before being placed in a shrine outside, where He could participate fully in the festivities, and be admired by the commoners who would usually never behold the face of Osiris. This emergence of Osiris from the dark temple's inner sanctuary to the light of the city resembled and represented His resurrection from death into life again. Although this particular festival was celebrated mainly in Osiris cult center of Abydos, it was also celebrated in other cities such as Bubastis in the Delta, Busiris, Memphis, and Thebes, in Upper Egypt.

The Mysteries of Osiris was a series of plays performed annually, and in dramatic, passionate form. It was one of the most popular observances of worshippers, and it told the story that I first told to you––of Osiris' life, His death at the hands of His brother, His resurrection at the hands of His sister-wife, and His ascension into the role we now know Him for. The roles in this reenactments were often taken up by high-ranking officials, and afterwards, the Contendings of Horus and Set would take place, which I just mentioned. These plays would take place over several days.

One festival was called The Fall of the Nile. During this time, the waters of the Nile would recede, and the worshippers of Osiris would go into mourning. One of Osiris' representation on earth was the Nile, and the Nile represented His fertility and life.

Another festival was celebrated on the 19th day of Pakhons, one of the months in the Egyptian calendar, which is roughly equivalent to May in our Gregorian calendar. On this day, the followers of Osiris would go to the river with shrines containing vessels of gold and metal, and would pour water into the Nile, exclaiming, "Osiris is found!" Mud and spices were mixed and moulded into the shape of Osiris, as well, to celebrate His return. Another festival similar to this one was called The Night of the Tear, and took place during modern-day June.

The last festival pertaining to Osiris that I will mention is the Djed pillar festival, held in modern-day January. The Pharaonic court and family would participate, raising djed pillars to welcome Osiris and the harvests that coincided with His return.

One last and interesting tradition that may seem familiar to Christians, at least in a small way, was the baking of bread in the shape of Osiris; bread as the flesh of the God, a sort of predecessor of communion wafers. But in reality the traditions of the Osiris cakes are completely different, and there were several different ways of going about it, depending on which nome you were from. In Dendera, wheat-paste models were made in the shape of each of the 16 dismembered parts of Osirs, and each model was sent out to the town where each respective part of Osiris was found by Isis. In Mendes, figures of Osiris were made of wheat and paste. On the day of the murder, they were placed in a trough, followed by water being added each day for several days. Afterwards, this mixture was kneaded into a dough, put into a mold of Osiris, and buried on the temple grounds.

Conclusion

This has been a somewhat brief glimpse into the cult, history, and traditions surrounding the Great God, The Beautiful Lord Osiris. If I can clarify anything please let me know and I will do my best!

[shaunaenabler]

speaking of helaena and her role in the dance, i think it's deeply unserious to argue that she should have just taken her young children to dragonstone and "bend the knee to rhaenyra" and then get upset about aegon & viserys having positions at court because according to y'all its just a hostage situation???

like either y'all not smart enough to realise that helaenas children would just very quickly become hostages the same thing y'all so enraged over potentially happening to rhaenyras or more accurately y'all just dont care. which is unsurprising.

furthermore, i kinda take issue with the whole aegon & viserys being treated as this whole hostage thing and like how dare the Greens demand hostages on top of "stealing" rhaenyras crown.... expect that's not what actually happened, lmafo.

from what i recall, if rhaenyra *wished*, she didn't have to send her boys to court. she could very easily have said no to that part and still bent the knee. last time i checked, families don't get a choice when hostages are taken, lol.

of course, aegon and viserys situation could very easily turn INTO being hostages. I'm not disputing that.

but it's not as though rhaenyra/the blacks couldn't have asked for 2 "guests" of their own - in this case, one of aegon and helaenas own children.

hate really does make some of y'all stupid lmafo

[yuurei20]

Continuing from a previous ask : what are easier / harder / Malleus-level magics? (easier / vague magics listed here, harder magics listed here, "precision magic" here) Part 4/4

Malleus' Magic

Teleportation:

Malleus seems to be capable of at least two different kinds of teleportation, one that appears identical to Lilia's ability to teleport and one that involves green flames. The only time we have seen him use the green flames was when he brought Silver along with him, so it is possible they are a side effect of having a passenger (or they may have just been for dramatic effect. Crowley comments on Malleus' ability to make a bold entrance in a vignette).

There is also the teleportation spell he uses in his vignette to link the Mirror Chamber to Diasomnia, transporting all the housewardens and Crowley against their will.

Returning to "proper" place/shape/form:

Malleus has used this spell three times now, once to return the coliseum back to how it was before Vil's overblot (which he describes as "even more trifling of a task than re-weaving unraveled fabric") and then again to return Vil to his proper age.

Malleus explains that even he cannot turn back time, and the spell involved him sharing magic with Vil. While a seemingly impressive feat, Malleus later says that it required "a paltry amount of magic" from him.

After the VDC, Ambrose LXIII says that he is "picking up traces of large-scale magic all over the coliseum," but it is never explained if it was Malleus' magic or Vil's overblot (or the combination of both) that he was sensing.

The third time is during Spectral Soiree, when he returns the "Sparkling Hall" to its true form and we learn that he doesn't even need to have seen what the "true form" of a person or thing is in advance.

Weather:

Lilia says that Malleus has been magically controlling the weather since he was a child, breaking boulders with lightning bolts when he threw tantrums.

Malleus threatens Magicam Monsters with lightning when they enrage him, summons thunder at the beginning of Firelit Sky when Jamil is reluctant to allow him to join the group and summons a powerful lightning strike out of rage at Rollo.

He also tells a story about nearly freezing the entire castle in which he lived (and all the people in it) as a child, "back when (he'd) finally started walking on two legs."

All of this combined with how he unconsciously summons a blizzard in Book 7 seem to hint that his weather-based powers may not be entirely under his own control, but during Halloween he consciously summons lightning to frighten Magicam Monsters away.

Attacks:

Malleus will occasionally threaten the use of attack-magic, but what it might entail (Lightning? Fire?) is not shown or explained.

Flight:

Like Lilia, Malleus does not require a broom for flight. He says that he has enough power to fly to anywhere in the world that he wishes.

Other Malleus magics we have seen and/or heard about are: ・Animating the long display at Ramshackle Dorm during Halloween ・Stopping time on campus (using his own power combined with the school's barrier and ghost-magic) and trapping everyone at the school

・Growing enough briar to fill Diasomnia ・Washing clothes

・Dualcasting wind and fire magic simultaneously ("It doesn't have to be be a tornado!" - Deuce) ・Summoning rare ore ・"Fire-breathing magic" (unclear if this is limited to his dragon form or if he can breathe fire all of the time)

・Levitating a truck ("I'm pretty sure only Malleus could pull off a feat like that…" - Epel) ・Using fire magic to light all the lanterns in Briar Valley ・Creating a tuxedo look for Lilia