#A Teaching on Sacred Responsibility

[brightgnosis]

Note Dump on 'Land, Respect, and Belonging: A Teaching on Sacred Responsibility', Hosted by Dr. Daniel Foor and the Ancestral Medicine Team

Guiding Question for the session:

What are our responsibilities to the land where we live? How do our relationships to the lands we visit or call home impact our sense of belonging and our physical, psychological, and spiritual wellbeing?

There are four main ways that we end up where we are, which form the foundation of our Human Ancestral Story:

We are where we've been for a long time (which is not inherently the same as being indigenous to the area); where the bones, ashes, and histories of your people have played themselves out over a long period of time, which creates its own unique experience with and connection to the land, there .

We arrived through the enactment of harm on others (which is generally the case through settler-colonialism); this doesn't necessarily mean that your ancestors themselves inherently acted as aggressors directly. But rather, that they were likely a minor part of a much larger movement enacting a violent boundary violation .

We arrived through, or after, experiencing a harm enacted upon us (which is typical of refugees, the enslaved, the displaced, those fleeing famine or structural inequality and violence, etc); sometimes the framing gets collapsed into "Settlers vs Colonialists", where the reason we come is to enact violence. But this is not actually nuanced enough, because the way in which we arrive to a place can be the cause of violence enacted on us in other places instead .

The active choice we make ourselves to migrate or immigrate to a new place; this ultimately comes from an inherent place of privilege and choice, and through consensual navigation between person and government or other powers.

Our Ancestral Story is most commonly a mixture of many of these things throughout history; our bodies are frequently an intersection of multiple stories that lay down lineage from both the enactment of harm by and the active reception of harm enacted upon our ancestors in many ways.

Sometimes those who came from a harm inflicted become those who inflict the harm on others later. And it's incredibly easy to avoid our Ancestral stories if they're uncomfortable; to choose not to face it, even though we need to. But we are also still individuals ... We're not defined by our Ancestral Stories.

There are ways we are individually drawn to the land, and may interface with it, due to our own temperament and our needs, our own destinies, and what we need to be our best self or to thrive, etc. And sometimes that means moving, even though our Ancestral Stories are located somewhere else.

People have different needs, and different Ancestral Trajectories. And what land we're on has a lot of implications for us ... What trees you dream of when you dream of trees will be different. Our relationships with things will different; our soul potential is a constantly unfolding conversation in relationship with the land we inhabit. And that's an invitation to understand how your practice is actively being shaped by where you're at.

It's not only about our ancestral conditions.

However: It's always important to consider who is already there when you arrive- regardless of when you arrived; the dead (remaining living representatives or not) and the living both who still speak through that place. But also the ones who are not and will never be Human as well: The plants and animals, bugs, and so on; the Spirits who are the land you have arrived on.

The Human and Other-than-Human and Divine beings are all the ecology of the land. And we are stepping into that ecology when we are visiting, or passing through a place- but especially when we are intending to unfold and build a life there for a prolonged period of time. But these communities are mostly not Human; yes they include Humans, but they are mostly not Human.

Thinking our particular physical body or Ancestral Group is better than another is bad. It's supremacy mindset to say "my group is better"; saying that Humans are above other-than-humans is the same garbage and arrogance. We have to recognize that.

We also have to recognize there's no actual stance outside of "the system". That's the colonialist stance: That you can sit outside the system, and be exempt from it (especially from the consequences). But there is no true "outsider" space to occupy.

That being said: Belonging is typically earned- which people don't want to hear. To be culturally skillful, and to have group-level belonging, however, there is a significant portion of that which hinges on learning how to skillfully engage with that group. And that is earning your belonging within that group.

How do you do that? You have to relate, and to participate. And how we relate with the system matters; are we going to bring more wisdom, and kindness, and care to it? Or are we going to bring more amnesia, and mindless crashing around?

So you want belonging there ... Belonging comes through participation ... So let's greet the Other-than-Human things. It's a great starting point in any space; if we don't know who "the others" are, then our mindfulness of etiquette is often diminished in a place.

No one has a map, though; there's no "one correct way" to participate. There's no set way it really needs to look to be "right". However, our participation should be intentionally personalized- especially as settler-colonialists. And making it personal matters to building that relationship.

It's not only about our personal connection, but also about our Ancestral Group and accepting that there are modes of participation that are pre-determined for us based on group identity and belonging. And so as the descendants of settler-colonialists, there is a clear moral imperative to participate. There is no other morally responsible way to "belong". That doesn't mean your whole life needs to be defined by that, however. But there is an active need for tithing to prevent sinking back into the amnesia of the past.

If we lean in and build relationship with a specific place over time, even if we're not "ancestrally of that place"? If we still show up with humility and peace and reciprocation and participation, time and time again, unprompted ... The elder powers of that land may speak to us in a very real and tangible way. One that changes what's happening on an outer level, and changes how things unfold there; it's the participation and the relationship building that leads to it. This is the outcome of showing up and participating again and again.

At first the sense of "The Others" is often "Who are you? Why are you doing this, why are you here". But over time as you show up, there is a sense that the attitude changes to "Ok well you're here and I guess we don't get to pick who shows up for us. So we might as well work with you". And towards the end, there is frequently a true sense of real nurturing and contact.

There's an incomplete piece surrounding how we interact with, revere, relate mindfully to, and even think about the other-than-human around us in the land. We're not really seeing them yet. We haven't actually met them in our perception. And it doesn't have to be like that. And until we have language for it, it's rarely conscious. It's a forgotten aspect of reality. So for those of us who have, we should model it as a basic set of values- even when it isn't the standard social norm

Personal Responses for the Questions During Practice

What would greater Belonging look like for you?

Better financial opportunities, here

Independent housing, here

Friends

Is there anything you could do to move into better attunement with the land to achieve this?

Actually making more regular pilgrimages and offerings like intended (wild); continuing to aid my city as a Master Gardener (cultivated).

#Daniel Foor #Land Respect and Belonging Ritual #Land Respect and Belonging #A Teaching on Sacred Responsibility #Personal #Religion and Magic #Daily Life #2022 #Ancestral Connections #A Direct Look At My Practice #Natural Connections #Witches of Oklahoma #Oklahoma Witch #Oklahoma Witches #Pagans of Oklahoma #Oklahoma Pagan #Oklahoma Pagans #Witchblr #Paganblr #Wiccablr

[simpforboys]

Hii!! I saw u were doing smut so i had to askk,

Could u do a Neteyam x Metkayina!Reader(aged up, obvi) where during a festival they’re getting drunk and stuff, shes talking to her girl friends about neteyam and she doesnt realise neteyam is heard her, she says out loud, “I taught him how to ride Ilu, He better let me ride his dick.” And they burst out laughing.

Soon after, its just them alone (AND SOBER) and he does end up teaching her how to ride. Well not really teach, he just lets her ride.

oh my god. yes.

how to ride

neteyam x fem!metkayina!reader

summary: neteyam overhears you sharing some private thoughts to your friends. he lets those thoughts become reality.

warnings: smut!! riding, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, dom!neteyam, fluff, swearing, mentions of dirty thoughts, praise kink, creampie

aged up!neteyam (around 20), aged up!loak (around 18)

“you’re coming to the welcoming party, right?” you walked up to neteyam, hip popped out as you carried a basket on your other hip.

“ooh! a party!” tuk said excitedly.

“sorry, tuk. grown ups only.” neteyam ruffled the child’s hair causing her to groan in frustration.

neteyam beamed up at you, your curly hair falling behind your back with a shell placed on top of your head. you had a tribal tattoo that went from your elbow to your neck, the tattoo swirling around your left breast, and a bright smile. you were gorgeous, one of the prettiest girls in the village.

the prettiest to neteyam.

being the older sister of tsireya and ao’nung, your father had instructed you to help the sully kids adapt.

but when the teenagers and kids slept, the adults wanted to have their own adapting.

so you organized a party that would have the metkayina famous root, a root that would get the drinker drunk within a few sips.

“i’ll be there, y/n.” neteyam nodded at you. you grinned, waving bye to tuk as you walked away, neteyam watching your hips sway.

that night, there were around 20-30 villagers who heard about the party and wanted to come.

you had dove down to where the root was planted, a sacred place by the cove of ancestors.

a flower was in your hair as you spoke to your friends, zeswa, syon, sìla, and niyi. your smile was bright as you peeked over at neteyam, the boy standing awkwardly with his brother.

you left your friends, neteyam silently thanking you as he felt outcasted with lo’ak.

“you need to try this.” you gave him a cup of the root, the scent strong as neteyam’s eyes narrowed.

“is it poison?” he asked, a joking tone in his voice.

“no,” you laughed. neteyam smiled.

“it does get you drunk, however.” you warned him, not wanting the strength to surprise him.

neteyam eyed you curiously.

“watch,” you grabbed your own drink. raising the glass to your lips, neteyam suddenly became very hot at you swallowing the drink down your throat.

within seconds, your pupils dilated and you became more giggly.

“c’mon… ‘teyam…” you slurred your words. lo’ak looked at his brother, shrugging in response as he took a couple sips. his ears went straight up as he coughed on the liquid. the site made neteyam’s curiosity get the best of him, and he took a single sip rather than a few.

he was tipsy, on the verge of drunk but still aware of what was going on. he’d never been buzzed before, and the way his body tingled felt strange to him.

“let’s go dance, yeah?” you dragged the boy over to where some villagers were making music with bongos and shells.

you almost tripped on the sand, neteyam grabbing you to keep you from falling.

“whoops,” you shrugged. you began to sway your hips, letting the island music take over your body as your friends came to join you.

the girls smiled at neteyam, the boy giving them a nod in return. lo’ak began to wander off, neteyam following him so he didn’t lose his wasted brother.

you, however, were giggling loudly with your friend group.

“he is so dreamy…” zeswa awed as neteyam walked away.

“i hate seeing him go, but i love to watch him leave.” sìla joked, seeing the way his braids swayed behind him as he walked.

your friends continued their awing and comments about neteyam, the root making it so none of you realized that he had soon returned with his sibling.

“i mean, i taught neteyam how to ride an ilu properly. i think i should be able to ride his dick, y’know?” you smirked, giggling drunkly to your friends.

neteyam’s face grew warm as he heard you speaking about him in such a manner. his ears fell flat and his tail wagged quickly.

the processing thought that you, the chief's eldest daughter, wanted to have intercourse with him, made neteyam's blush deepen. his body was very hot, a prideful grin creeping onto his face.

➽─────────────────❥

one of the better effects of the root was the lack of hangover. you were up bright and early once more, helping tuk feed the ilus.

neteyam suddenly became very aware of the way your beaded shell top showed the curve of your breasts. water dripped down your body, your hair being the main cause.

you had apparently redone your hair that morning. you put your hair in a half up-half down ponytail, twists leading to the band that held it together. shells and little flowers were scattered in your hair, and neteyam swore you couldn't get any prettier.

you had bent over a bit, the loincloth showing the curve of your ass. neteyam didn't realize he was staring so intently until lo'ak patted his shoulders.

"you should get in on that, big bro."

neteyam scoffed, pushing his brother off of him.

the man began to walk over to you and his youngest sister, his heart swelling at tuk's happiness.

"i love her so much!" tuk petted the animal's slimy head as you grinned.

"rewon (morning), neteyam." you bowed your head to him, your innocent eyes causing neteyam to feel nervous.

did you mean what you said last night?

he wanted to ask so badly, but he knew it wasn't the time or the place. he bowed his head back, mutual respect as he moved to stand next to you.

"want to go for a ride later?" he asked suddenly, the subtle comment making your ears snap up. neteyam noticed the way you flustered up and he wondered if he ruined it.

"i would love to, neteyam." you agreed, beginning to overthink the question. had he heard you last night?

you were beyond embarrassed, even though there was a chance he had no hidden intent behind his question. but the way he had a hint of perversity in his eyes, you couldn't help but let your mind wander.

when you finally had a chance to sneak off, neteyam followed you as you ventured off inside the reef. his ilu chased yours as you laughed underwater, sticking your tongue out at him as he couldn't quite keep up.

you lead your ilus to a secluded little island, a place you liked to go when things became too much.

neteyam sat next to you on the sand, watching the way the sun almost met the moon.

there was a comfortable silence, yet a tension neither of you could explain. neteyam let his eyes roam your long legs, the material of your loincloth bunched up at your hips so he could see the dip of your thighs.

you could feel neteyam's eyes on you. your pussy began to react, a slight throb in your clit as you pushed your hair back off your shoulders.

"did you mean what you said last night?" neteyam's bold question threw you off.

"about....?"

you wanted to play it off, scared that he thought disgustingly of you.

"about riding me."

you swallowed nervously as he watched you with starving eyes. you peered up at him, the normal bright color now dark with dilated pupils.

"yes." you mumbled lowly, he almost didn't hear it.

neteyam's hand went to your jaw, his breath fanning over your face.

"is this okay?" he breathed out, his chest rising and falling with every deep breath he took. you nodded, connecting your lips to his in a heated kiss.

neteyam purred as you pushed him back on the sand, your lips still connected. you hovered over him, your clit throbbing from the kissing.

neteyam was resting on his elbow, his other hand still holding your face against him as he slipped his tongue in your mouth.

within seconds, you were kissing your way down his toned body. he continued to purr like a forest cat, his hand sneaking its way into your hair.

"you're so beautiful, y/n." he hummed out. you blushed, sucking a hicky on his v-line.

you untied his loincloth, his throbbing dick springing up. you marveled at the sight, noticing the way you began to salivate.

"y/n-" neteyam whimpered as you sucked his tip. he threw his head back as you jerked him off, swirling your tongue around the head.

he was panting, the hair on his tail tickling against your cunt as he moved his tail.

the noises he was making was unlike anything you imagined. knowing he was whimpering for you only made you hornier.

"honey," you watched the way his stomach fell. he unknowingly bucked his hips into your throat, gripping your ponytail as you gagged around him.

"doing so good for me."

his praise caused you to moan around him, the vibration almost making him cum. your long nails raked along his striped thighs as he used your throat, chasing his orgasm.

"oh, fuck," he moaned as he came. eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back as he shot thick cum down your throat.

you smirked against him, pulling your mouth off him as he came back from eywa.

"you're so cute, 'teyam." you kissed him once more, untying your own loincloth as you moved to hover above him.

you grinded your soaked cunt against his hard cock, patting his head at your clit. you both moaned into each other's mouths as you put him inside of you.

neteyam placed one hand on your hip, the other on your breast. he rolled your hard nipple in between his fingers, you breaking the kiss to moan out.

"so big, 'teyam."

your comment made neteyam's ego burst. seeing you sitting on his cock on an island on the edge of the reef, knowing that at any moment someone could look for you both made him only harder.

you moved your hips, beginning to twerk on his cock. his tip brushed at your g-spot and you mewled as he rubbed your clit.

"good girl," neteyam slapped your ass.

"this is what you wanted, yeah? to ride my big cock?" neteyam began to lose himself as you used his cock to get off.

you nodded quickly, eyes rolling back from the pleasure.

"feels so good," you moaned.

the erotic sense that the chief's daughter was fucking herself dumb on his cock made his stomach tighten. his father would surely kill him if he were to find out about this, but neteyam didn't care.

for once, he was thinking about himself. he wanted you, needed you. he knew you were to be his mate, and he was going to allow himself to be selfish in this moment.

neteyam grabbed your waist, pulling you down as he held you against him. he rutted his hips roughly into yours, his balls hitting your ass as you screamed out in pleasure.

"take it, baby."

he sucked on your nipple as you dug your nails into his shoulder. your curls were bouncing as his braids swung against his neck and shoulders, the harshness of his hips causing his body to shake.

"fuck, neteyam!" you squealed.

"who's this pussy belong to?" neteyam asked.

"you! my pussy belongs to you, neteyam!"

you were seeing stars as his cock drove itself into your cervix. you were becoming lightheaded from the pleasure, your stomach tightening as you clenched around his cock.

"come on, ma y/n. cum on this dick."

you pushed your hips back onto his as your pussy clenched around him, your body shaking as you came.

"oh, fuck me." you cried out as he kept going.

neteyam loosened his hold on you as he helped you bounce on his cock, wanting to cum. he was close with the way you tightened on him.

"you gonna take my cum, baby?" he asked you.

you nodded feverishly, so lost in the overstimulation of pleasure. you never got to recover from your orgasm, and neteyam began rubbing on your clit again.

you were soon about to hit your second as neteyam grabbed your hips, holding you down on his cock as he came inside of you. hot spurts of cum painted itself on your walls, the feeling causing you to come again.

you fell on top of him, legs weak as he held you against his chest.

"so good to me, so good," neteyam kissed your forehead as you recovered.

"that was better than i imagined." you joked, cuddling yourself into him as his cock slipped out of you. cum began to leave your cunt, but he pushed it back inside of you.

neteyam grinned.

"oel ngati kameie (i see you). i see inside of you, into your mind, heart, body, and soul." neteyam brushed your messy hair out of your face.

tears welled in your eyes as you caressed his check, your finned hand going down to his jaw.

"i see you, ma neteyam. i always have, ever since you came to my island, and i always will."

neteyam's smile was so wide as he kissed you once more.

——-

tags: @mayhemories @useryourbut

#simpforboys #neteyam sully smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam fluff #best boy neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully #neteyam angst #neteyam x you #neteyam sully x reader #avatar 2 #avatar 2022 #avatar way of water #avatar neteyam

[geminimoonmadness]

NATAL

RETROGRADES

Copywrites Reserved ©️GeminiMoonMadness

A retrograde in astrology is when a planetary object appears to move backwards, which essentially means the planet's energy is somewhat effected, so those life areas that fall under that planet's domain are not as easily expressed. It’s a very karmic thing to have in the natal chart, your soul chose to incarnate to learn deeper lessons regarding the areas of life ruled by that specific planet/asteroid. To know if you have a natal retrograde in your chart, look for Rx or R on a generated chart calculator.

Fun fact: Mars is the rarest retrograde.

❤️🖤❤️

Planets

If your Ruling Planet is Retrograde it will make you doubt yourself more and you may experience self image issues.

For example: A Gemini Rising with a natal Mercury retrograde or A Sagittarius Rising with a natal Jupiter retrograde.

Mercury Retrograde gives you lessons around communication, learning and intellect. You may struggle to articulate words and speak up or may even talk too much and not know when to be quiet.

Venus Retrograde makes someone’s nature more intense & deep. They take their connections very seriously which may cause these individuals to go through difficulties in regards to their one on one relationships. Since socialising is not taken lightly there can be some sort of awkwardness when participating in small talk and general shyness in order to avoid superficial connections.

Mars Retrograde individuals may lack forward movement, assertive abilities, have a dulled passion & drive. They may feel fatigued & tired more than often. Your sex drive may also be effected because of this.

Jupiter Retrograde individuals tend to have different or unusual perspectives, belief systems, or sets of morals. They prefer to learn from their own experiences rather than from others. This placement gives me “what do you know because you’ve experienced it yourself VS what do you know because you were told” vibes.

Saturn Regrograde burdens you with responsibilities and a sense of duty in your life. You may struggle with boundaries and find it difficult to say no to others.

Uranus Retrograde may make it hard for you to fully express your inner originality and unique side. These individuals are born a rebel and may also experience unexpected & sudden karmic events in their life.

Neptune Retrograde takes away your rose coloured glasses, you may have to face hard and painful realities as the neptunian illusion is stripped away. You’re meant to discover the truth behind your illusions, realise what is sacred and be a source of light in others lives.

Pluto Retrograde brings more growth opportunities into your life. You may have a fear of letting go which you’re here to learn the importance of doing so. You need to take control of your life as your shadow side may take over if you don’t do the work to transform/grow. (Shadow work is necessary with this placement)

(I know Lilith isn’t a planet, just adding it)

Lilith Retrograde can make you a sexual deviant (because sexuality is part of Lilith’s nature and here it's manifesting differently). You may struggle with following your instincts and acknowledging your desires. For example: Someone with a retrograde Lilith in Virgo would not be the typical control freak Lilith in Virgo person, instead they will be very messy.

ASTEROIDS

Chiron Retrograde means that trauma is deep within and may even come from a past life. In this lifetime, these individuals are here to re-evaluate your relationship with anyone & anything that doesn’t support you anymore. They may find it challenging to accept their feelings and the simple fact that humans are imperfect and vulnerable.

Ceres Retrograde individuals can struggle with having the nourishment, support, resources they need and may experience a lack in some way. This usually means that your upbringing failed to teach you the proper lessons about nurture and self care, so you'll have to learn it yourself. Check your Ceres sign and it will teach you what you need to nurture.

Juno Retrograde individuals may have commitment issues or trauma they need to work through. This also is an indication of past life karma in regards to relationships. These people are the lone wolves, they tend to avoid partnerships & may even prefer to be single and independent.

Vesta Retrograde individuals may lack devotion and discipline. It can bring up issues around fear of sexuality or intimacy, obsession, prostitution or selling yourself short in some way. They’re here to learn the value of service, this will examine how much dedication they’re putting into their life. When we put in little dedication, we can suffer. When we put in too much dedication, we can suffer as well. They may struggle with feeling like they fit in because they tend to lack devotion and/or generosity for others.

Pallas Retrograde may make someone aggressive, immature, have criminal tendencies and daddy issues. These individuals strategy may not be accept by society, with a ‘pick me’ vibe. They are inclined to manipulate and lie but can overcome these traits with self awareness and shadow work.

Amor retrograde individuals have some sort of discomfort when it comes to romance. You may have some old love issues and traumas to work through. These people tend to take a different approach to romance.

Cupido Retrograde may mean you have way too many crushes or rarely have any. You become too infatuated at times, or lack passion, and need to find a balance between the two.

Eros Retrograde may cause some issues around sex. This indicates there may be past trauma on a soul level, so you need to work on acknowledging your desires and acting on urges and fantasies in a healthy way.

Hermes Retrograde people tend to be in the wrong crowd and often find themselves taking the fall for others mistakes. These people tend to be good people but they may not be the best at balancing their life and managing their time. Possible fertility issues. Due to past accidents or incidents they have experienced in a past life may give them travel-related fears in this life. (fear of flying, fear of water, fear of driving, fear of bikes, fear of trains, fear of horses, etc.)

Eris Retrograde people may unintentionally cause trouble by doing things they thought wouldn’t be an issue. They may not like confronting others because it feels uncomfortable or they feel attacked whenever they speak up for themselves - They tend to experience a lot of gaslighting yet they usually hate fighting with others. They may often feel as though they are alone even when surrounded by other people.

Aphrodite Retrograde individuals may experience extremes from having stalkers to not being adored by others at all. They may feel unseen and unappreciated by others, making it often difficult to appreciate themselves. They tend to experience a lot of drama and may not be the most jealous person but rather the person who is too insecure to be openly jealous as if it’s like they expected it, “too good to be true” vibes.

❤️🖤❤️

I tried to be as informative as I could and added as much variety as I can with the asteroids I’m familiar with. There are other retrogrades I haven’t listed here.

Let me know which of these you have!

#retrograde #astrology #astrology observations #astro community #astro posts #astro notes #astrology community #astrology posts #astro observations #astrology notes #mercury retrograde #mars retrograde #natal retrograde #Venus retrograde #Jupiter retrograde #Saturn retrograde #natal aspects #Uranus retrograde #Neptune retrograde #Chiron retrograde #Pluto retrograde #eros retrograde #asteroid Retrograde #Lilith retrograde #Juno retrograde #karma placements #Vesta retrograde #Pallas retrograde #Cupido retrograde #amor retrograde

[renthony]

hey!! i am genuinely curious about how the catholic church helped implement the hays code, would you be able to tell me more/do you have any good reading material about it? thanks so much!!

This has been sitting in my inbox for aaaaaages, because I want to do it justice! It's actually a big facet of my research project that I'm going to go into much, much, much more depth on, but here's the short(er) summary:

The foundational text of the Hays Code was written by two Catholics: a Jesuit priest named Father Daniel Lord, and a man named Martin Quigley, who was the editor of the Motion Picture Herald. They grounded their guidelines in Catholic morality and values, based on the idea that art could be a vehicle for evil by negatively influencing the actions of those who view it.

The original list of guidelines written by Lord and Quigley was adapted into the Production Code, popularly known as the "Hays Code" after William Hays, the president of the Production Code Administration that enforced it. As president of the PCA, William Hays appointed a staunch Catholic man called Joseph Breen to enforce the code. Breen enforced it aggressively, confiscating the original reels of films he deemed inappropriate and against the Code. Many lost films from this era are only "lost" because Joseph Breen personally had them destroyed. Some were rediscovered later, but many were completely purged from existence.

When Breen died in 1965, Variety magazine wrote, "More than any single individual, he shaped the moral stature of the American moral picture." He was a very, very big deal, and was directly responsible for censoring more films than I could even begin to list here.

In 1937, Olga J. Martin, Joseph Breen’s secretary, said, “To an impoverished country which had become religious and serious-minded, the sex attitudes of the post-war period became grotesquely unreal and antedated. The public at large wanted to forget its own derelictions of the ‘gay twenties.' The stage was set for the moral crusade.”

In 1936, once the Code was being fully enforced on filmmakers by Joseph Breen, a letter was issued by the office of Pope Pius XI that praised Breen's work, and encouraged all good Catholics to support film censorship.

The letter read in part, "From time to time, the Bishops will do well to recall to the motion picture industry that, amid the cares of their pastoral ministry, they are under obligation to interest themselves in every form of decent and healthy recreation because they are responsible before God for the moral welfare of their people even during their time of leisure. Their sacred calling constrains them to proclaim clearly and openly that unhealthy and impure entertainment destroys the moral fibre of a nation. They will likewise remind the motion picture industry that the demands which they make regard not only the Catholics but all who patronize the cinema."

Basically, this letter was a reminder from the Papal authority that bishops and priests are supposed to stop people from engaging with "lewd" or "obscene" art. That meant supporting things like the Hays Code.

So, to summarize: the original text of the Hays Code was written by two Catholics, including a priest. The biggest and most aggressive censor under the Code was a Catholic man, who had the full support and approval of the Pope at the time. Good Catholics were called en-masse to support the Hays Code, because it was intentionally written to line up with Catholic teachings.

There's a lot more to say on the subject, and if you're interested in reading more on your own, I recommend the book "Pre-Code Hollywood: Sex, Immorality, and Insurrection in American Cinema, 1930-1934," by Thomas Doherty. There are plenty other sources I can recommend on request, but that's a solid place to start.

(And if I can toot my own horn, I'm intending to do a video lecture series all about American film censorship and the Hays Code. Pledging to my Patreon helps keep me fed and housed while I do all this damn research.)

#original post

[thedragonkween]

King Baldwin IV Headcanons! ♔🤍♕

A/N: So, here we are. I could not resist this mysterious and tormented king's charm. His silky voice makes me dream! These are some headcanons I've collected off the top of my head. The Reader is implied to be female and married to Baldwin IV. Please, do feel free to hit my inbox to ramble about our king because I'm literally dying of pining and yearning.

tags: female!reader x baldwin iv of jerusalem (from kingdom of heaven); reader is married to baldwin iv of jerusalem; fluff; slight angst towards the end

wc: 1150k

reccomended songs to listen to while reading: "Summertime Sadness" by Hildegard von Blingin; "Right Here" by Ashes Remain; "Blood, Sweat, Tears" by BTS (orchestral version)

"Many are the tales of the King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem and of his Queen. Despite the varying accounts of their deeds, each one of them agrees on one aspect: the King of Jerusalem loved his Queen dearly, and the world is richer for it".

Baldwin IV is mysterious, intense, valiant, noble and utterly devoted to you, his Queen. But what does this devotion look like?

Firstly, he would believe in you like no other and would always be ready to give you his best advice whenever the weight of your responsibility becomes too much. Foreign rulers would soon learn of your qualities - there would hardly be a piece of correspondence where the King of Jerusalem does not praise the intellect and insight of his dear wife. He would glance at you from time to time, while you both work at your desks sharing the burden of paperwork, silently thanking God for having sent him not only a beautiful, but reliable life companion as well.

He values your opinions greatly and has the utmost regard for your views on political, military and state matters. Disagreements happen, yet your overall values are aligned, which is why Baldwin understands your vision and where your point comes from. During the discussions regarding complex decisions, he would let you speak and explain, then he would offer his honest thoughts on the matter, should he see another, different way from yours. 

Playing chess is a favorite way of spending quality time together in your chambers, away from the chaos of the court. If you know how to play and are proficient at it, he would delight in the thrill of challenge, as he would finally have found a true equal. If you do not know how to play, he would teach you with patience, taking pride whenever you make an unexpected and astute move. He would be such a nerd while he explains the rules to you and would be delighted to see how your mind works when devising a plan.

"Congratulations, dove. You have a checkmate."

I can also see Baldwin taking you on long rides, if his health allows it. He would sweetly check the reins and saddle on your horse before mounting on his steed and leading you away to enjoy the cool early morning breeze, before the heat of Jerusalem becomes too sweltering. You would have a nice and secluded spot to enjoy and to pretend that you are a couple of young lovers without responsibilities and crowns weighing on your heads.

Your presence brings him safety and comfort, which is what would convince him to remove his mask when he is alone with you and the physicians. He would especially love to rest his head on your la as you gently caress his curls while the physicians tend to his skin. It is a sacred moment. He does not know how he went so long without your presence during this delicate time. Speaking softly to each other, you would distract him from the pain with talk of your hometown, fairy tales from your culture, or even simply reflecting on a happening of that day. On these occasions, you learn how to best take care of him, watching the physician tend to his arm while you tend to the other, delicately dabbing the cloth over his wounded skin. Baldwin feels so protected and safe in your presence. He thinks you are God’s greatest gift to him.

Now, jealousy. Baldwin knows he boasts the honor of having an exquisite flower such as yourself to call his own. As do powerful men and courtiers from distant lands. Many covet your loveliness as one would a precious gem. Should one of these foolish people try to take you from him or even stare at you for too long to be considered proper, they would be met with a pure force to be reckoned with. Should a knight’s eye linger on you for too long, he would be quick to put him in place in his signature glacial, elegant way. Before long, everyone learns not to disrespect the Queen consort of Jerusalem.

“Perhaps you would have understood my point, had you not been so insolently ogling my wife”. He takes out his whip. “On your knees. You will pay for insulting the Queen”.

He would protect you with his life. He swore to protect Jerusalem and, as its Queen, that includes first of all you. Should a courtier doubt your devotion and mistake it for thirst for power, or should he learn of an orchestrated attempt on your life, he would waste no time in employing his best forces in your service to defend you.

His enemies and templars alike fear him, yet with you he is as gentle as the morning breeze that gently caresses Jerusalem. This powerful king who makes armies tremble and kingdoms shake is the same person who holds and kisses your hand (when in public, bringing your fingers to the lips of his mask), who silently admires your loveliness from afar and sighs to himself, who longs for your warmth after a tiring day. 

He would write you letters. Lots of them. And not always when he is away. Maybe he just liked the way the sun reflected in your eyes that morning. Or maybe when you helped a servant, he was moved by your kindness. Your every action inspires him, so much so that he has to let out his thoughts on paper. You have a pretty wooden box brimming with delicate papers penned by Baldwin in your honor. He is not only the King of Jerusalem, but also the king of pining, of yearning. Even when he has you near, he yearns for you.

I love to imagine him letting you accompany him to battle. He would love it too, in theory. You make him so strong, the both of you would be quite the sight, meeting your enemies head on, as one, donning your best armors. Yet, at the same time I cannot imagine him resting easy knowing that a loose arrow, a desperate soldier seeking glory for killing the Queen of Jerusalem, or fatigue and sickness could take you from him. It pains his heart to be parted from you, yet he cannot risk your safety. Instead, Baldwin would trust you with ruling the kingdom. He has absolute faith in your intelligence, willpower and cleverness, especially after all he has taught you about running the realm. He longs for you every second he’s away from Jerusalem, yet his heart is at peace knowing his kingdom is in the most capable hands.

When he feels that his time on this Earth is nearing his end, he calls for his most trusted advisors, including Balian and Tiberias. He would ask them, almost begging, to protect you always, at all costs, when he is no longer there to do so. Balian and Tiberias would exchange a quick glance to each other, vowing to respect their King’s wish until the very end.

“Protect her. Please.” “Always, my Lord”.

Poems, songs and stories would be written in honor of your love even centuries after your passing. Many tales would speak of Baldwin IV of Jerusalem and his Queen. Different pieces of art, such as paintings and ballads, would inspire people from all over the world to find a love as devoted and unshakable as yours. Until the very end.

All in all, to love Baldwin means knowing your time together is limited. As is the time of all creatures on Earth. He would beg you to go on after his passing, to live for him. He shall wait for you and protect you from above. Until the very end.

#king baldwin x reader #king baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv x reader #baldwin x reader #kingdom of heaven #king baldwin #king baldwin iv #koh #kingdom of heaven imagine #kingdom of heaven imagines #mywriting

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok vampire hunter!König is hot but how about vampire!Engel with vampire!König who seduced and turned her?

König is the meanest vampire there is.

He never lets his angel become an independent, strong creature of the night; instead, he keeps her in his tower and “teaches” her, telling her she must never venture out because the world is a dangerous place and mortals are more cunning than she can even imagine, and Engel, poor fresh young fledgling that she is, just looks up at him wide-eyed and lips drawn into a thin line and believes everything he says.

And so there’s really no one to tell her that König is shunned by all the other vampires: he has a reputation, he’s more feral than any of them and always keeps to himself, never comes to the balls or burdens himself with the need to charm anyone or even dress properly, he’s like a relic from the past when vampires had to scour their meal from wherever they could get it, filthy docks or poor cottages in the hills, bothering lowly peasants whose blood tastes like dung. König lives in a time of war even though there’s peace now, and plenty of good blood to feast on, he has even killed some of his own – Engel really doesn’t know the full depth of the trouble she’s in... She couldn’t have bumped into a more unfit, berserk, depraved sire.

He always picks her meal for her: always fragile, meek women, dragged to the tower screaming and pale and filled with fear and horror: and he doesn’t even let her feed alone because he likes to watch. No one tells her that this isn’t supposed to happen: that a lamia’s meal is a sacred ritual, it's between her and the sacrificial lamb, and it's also a moment when a vampire is at her most vulnerable... But no: König watches her like a mortal would watch pornography or an obscene play, and Engel thinks it’s perfectly normal, she just wants to please her master, as difficult and hard as it is to do so at times.

And sometimes she feels this odd yearning – she was such a cute, well-behaved mortal, she had her whole life ahead of her, she never did anything wrong, and she never asked to be turned... (yes Engel keep telling yourself that) She just wanted to talk to this mysterious highwayman who walked her home when she got lost in the woods, who gave her the most intense hand-kiss she had ever received and after that, left her a blood-red rose on her windowsill every night... And now she finds herself here, in this ungodly tower with a monster – a monster she hopelessly loves and adores.

Sometimes the need to feed grows too strong and she floats down the stairs, helpless and weak, only to be met with König’s imperious form as he opens the heavy oak door and immediately catches on to what’s going on. His heavenly angel was about to disobey him; clearly, she doesn’t yet understand the danger she’s in (in truth König is getting pale even at the thought of her finding some other mentor, were Engel to leave him he would crawl into his coffin and never come out again).

So into the coffin she goes, without breakfast, and has to stay there alone until he's sharpened his knives. Only when dawn is already about to break, only after the sturdy old pine box echoes with her pitiful little whimpers, König finally joins her, gathers Engel in his arms, asks her if she has learned her lesson now, hmm? She must understand that this is for her own good: he’s just ensuring that nothing bad happens to her. After all, she's his responsibility; it was fated that they met. She’s exactly where she belongs; she has nothing to fear.

Then he feeds her himself: another taboo and a perverse act of him, and even sicker than anyone could ever imagine because König pushes them both to their limits, getting lewd pleasure out of Engel drinking from him until he's near the point of going into rigor mortis, groaning that she needs to stop (secretly wishing she wouldn’t… Not just yet…)

And König never tells her that their kind is supposed to sleep in their own coffins for a variety of reasons. He allows her to sleep in his, never even gets her her own, getting sick satisfaction from the way she curls up and clings to him like a pathetic, helpless human.

The only things he gets her are stunning, gorgeously large white dresses: pompous and flowy and frilly and so heavy she can’t possibly even dream of escaping while wearing those. The only time there’s a slightly more benevolent look in those piercing cold blue eyes is when Engel laughs and spins around in them, fresh blood on her lips, eyes outshining all the night stars...

She’s truly the most innocent, beautiful creature he has ever seen. He almost feels… what was it that mortals called it?

Ah, yes. Love.

#yandere könig #supernatural au #vampire au #vampire!König #könig x reader #yandere vampire #tw: dark content

[crisiscutie]

pls more headcanons on yandere father sephiroth

Let see what happens if darling strayed further from her set path than Sephiroth would have preferred... Yandere Musings here.

Content Warning: Slight NSFW. Emotional abuse. Yandere Sephiroth. Confinement. Brainwashing. Unhealthy and unsettling family dynamics. Rebirth spoilers.

You were sent by Sephiroth to conquer this strange, hidden world and merge it with his other dominions.

You got into a fight not long after your arrival. But your enemy talked you down and proposed an alliance to stop your father. You really hated the idea of betraying him, but this is necessary to find out who you really are.

You joined a group of adventurers looking to stop the energy of their world from being drained.

Sephiroth was closely observing your mission, but he was briefly distracted by other multiversal anomalies. Yet once he sensed you slipping away, he wasted no time in trying to reestablish his link to you.

His velvety, fatherly voice resonated in your head. "Sweet girl, have you done what I asked?" He said.

It was extremely difficult, but you've managed to ignore him.. Even with him saying those two special words.

He reached out again, this time his velvety voice being a mixture of a cold demand and a fierce warning. "Darling." Ugh, you could just feel him digging into your mind, scrounging whatever information he could get.

"Go away!" You said, shaking your head. You were able to expel him from your mind this time, but for how long? You already sensed his frown searing into your very soul, even when he's not near you.

Sephiroth's whispers quickly caught up to you and your new group of friends in no time. Despite your attempts to teach your friends about them, panic consumed them, and the whispers mercilessly picked them off, one by one.

Your will to fight vanished completely when one whisper transformed into your beloved father, wearing his traditional, malicious smirk. This smirk, usually reserved for his enemies and other lesser beings, grew wider upon seeing you.

Sephiroth made this massacre last a little longer. It'd help you truly understand the gravity of your defiance.

Tears welled up in your eyes just when he carried out the execution of the last human parasite - that damned boy who dared to steal his place.

You wanted to raise your blade and run it through Sephiroth, but something rooted you to the ground, making you tremble like hell and seem like that hapless, innocent girl that he always treated you as.

He menacingly approached you, blood still dripping from his Masamune. This transgression of yours cannot go unanswered.

He had grabbed your chin, his velvety words dripping with cruel fury as his face leaned in close, mere inches from yours.

"I gave you everything you needed. Wanted. And you repay me with this." He casually flicked the boy's blood off his blade, letting it stain the body of another one of your comrades.

"I'm sorry, Father! Please forgive me!" You broke down into his arms.

"You know I love you, don't you?" He said. You nodded in response.

"So you should know that I'm only doing this for your own good."

You became confused as he said those words and you looked back up at him. He wore the usual gentle, affectionate smile, but his slit eyes brimmed with rage.

Following that, he let out a chuckle and facepalmed when he had his epiphany.

Of course. You didn't fully understand what you were doing. You were only naturally indulging in a childish desire. He could only blame the boy who had tempted you away from your proper place.

Sephiroth hugged you and gave you a gentle head pat. "Sweet girl... I shall take you to a sacred place," he whispered.

He knew it was too early to introduce you to it, but he couldn't help himself this time.

"..a place where you'll learn just how much your father loves you!" His tone carried a twisted nostalgia as he cast a sleep spell on you, gently guiding your head to rest against his chest.

Later on, you found yourself confined within a pod, your face concealed while the rest of your body was bare. Tentacles coiled around you, piercing your flesh to inject corrupted essence into you. And a long metallic tube was connected to your stomach, channeling the energy of the last conquered world into you as well.

"Such power and beauty, just like your dear mother..." Sephiroth said.

The sight of you like this was so breathtaking. He was tempted to touch the pod, but refrained, as if it was too immaculate and sacred for his touch.

Your pleas and squirms went unnoticed as he was consumed by his twisted nostalgia.

"I must ensure that you retain your purity," he continued. "I cannot have you ruining it, especially with a mere human, can I?"

Your pleas ceased, and your squirming slowly subsided.

"You will become my sweet and obedient girl. One who will make me proud, and who will forever be by my side, and who will never hurt me," He seemed almost solemn for a second before he continued. "...I will protect you and your purity from everyone who would taint it. It will be for me, and me alone."

Game over! Try again? 👈

#sephiroth #ff7 sephiroth #final fantasy 7 #crisis cutie #ff7 #sephiroth x reader #yandere sephiroth #final fantasy x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere x y/n #yandere father sephiroth #yandere x darling #tw: emotional abuse #tw: confinement #tw yandere #tw: abuse

[superiorsturgeon]

Fatherly Wisdom

Papa Arc: Wow, look at you, boy! You’ve grown into a fine young man since you ran off to Beacon with nothing but my granddad’s old sword and your hoodie!

Papa Arc: What did you do to your hair, though?

Jaune: Daaaaaad…

Papa Arc: Anyway, you really surprised me, son. You’ve grown into a proper huntsman all on your own! I’m proud of you!

Jaune: Aw, thanks dad…!

Papa Arc: But you’re a man, now, Jaune. And that means you’re responsible for satisfying your woman!

Jaune: Dad, ew!

Papa Arc: What I’m about to teach you is sacred Arc knowledge handed down through the generations from father to son. Listen well, boy, and you’ll have eight children of your own before you know it!

Jaune: Uh, actually dad, Pyrrha wants to focus on her career so we agreed to use protection for now.

Papa Arc: “Protection?” Like wearing your armor in the bedroom to spice things up?

Papa Arc: Ha! You young people and your new-age experimentation!

Jaune: Dad, that’s not-

Papa Arc: *hands Jaune a thick book titled “Fatherly Advice: The Arc Guide to Becoming a Father” and sets up a chalkboard* No time to lose, kiddo! Now pay attention because there’s going to be a test!

#rwby #jaune arc #papa arc #arkos #jaune x pyrrha #practice safe sex dammit

[sanjisblackasswife]

DON'T tell me you too hc Shanks as the shameless pervert??!! Like the type that's very comfortable with sex and very experienced DILF lmao 😭

Corruption kink?? I thought it was obvious 🙄

That guy could talk about the nastiest kink the same way he talks about the groceries 😩 "...and then she nearly passed out! Haha, I think it's cuz she had all her holes-" "SHANKS-!! OMG- YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT-!!" but you low-key love it when he does

😭😭😩😩

A/N: YKW…. if you don’t mind imma use your amazing response to blast Shanks kinks because why not Ahahah

Shanks Kinks/What Turns Him On (NSFW)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: KINKS, It’s Pretty Short General List, I Believe He Has More, But These Scream “Shanks”💀

Kinks:

Corruption Kink: He will swear up and down that he doesn’t have one of you tell him, corruption? Absolutely not he loves women he would never—

Shanks loves seeing a pretty innocent thing like yourself not having a clue in the world how to please a man. He can get off on the thought alone of how embarrassed you’d be learning about taking his cock and not knowing how to handle it and so after one night of partying and charming he starts you off by having you face the mirror in his room, air making your nipples erect and naked on his clothed lap. “There you go…ah ah keep looking in the mirror for me.” He guides your hand to rub your clit teaching you how to touch yourself, “It’s okay you can cum…” You whine and grind your hips on his and your own hand. It won’t be long until he shows you how to properly use your mouth. Knowing he took something so important and sacred is a form of ownership that he gets riled up of feeling.

Exhibitionism: Shanks has little to any care about the consequences of ignorant decisions. He could care less.

He totally doesn’t mind a show as long as said person doesn’t get too close. There are plenty of times Shanks didn’t have time to take a woman back to the ship or the hotel and just did a quickie in a bar hallway or an alleyway. Ironically he still haven’t been caught.

Dirty Talk: If he is feeling sweet he will describe what he is going to do to you, but if he is feeling like a little brat he won’t be above making you describe to him what you want him to do—

“Yeah? And then what?” You’ve been on the edge for what seems hours with his fingers and tongue switching places in your aching cunt. Your legs were embarrassingly spread open because he tied them up at the end of the bed posts. He constantly swirlied the tip of his wet muscle on your clit, driving you mad, you could have just grabbed his head to shove his entire mouth inside you, but you knew better than to disobey Shanks. “Then….I—ah! Want you…” “Want me to what, darling? Hold you? Feed you?—“ “Fuck me, Shanks! I want you to fuck me with you cock please!!”

Breeding: I mean is this even—-hello..he’s a certified dilf.

Ironically he does try to practice safe sex when he used to screw random women on the grand line, but Shanks has no problem with fucking the woman he loves raw. When he is close your body is pulled in even closer, he’ll be damned if any of his seed is wasted. His arm pushes your pelvis higher into his, this is usually when he starts to make more noise grunts and cursing in your ear. He wants you to cum with him because the feeling of how you clench still sucking him and his cum in makes his mind go numb. Sometimes if any does drip out he’ll scoop it and finger it back in you regardless of the painful overstimulation. Because he hates to waste.

What Turns Him On:

Walking around naked: I mean it’s pretty obvious pretty much any man loves to see their woman naked, but when he is greeted with you in nothing, but your ass as you bend over the bed to grab something, he won’t think twice to fuck you right there with his cock out of his pants, too eager to get completely nude.

Teasing Him: He is the master at making you flustered. Even though it’s damn near impossible to make him blush even when he’s drunk, It’s just something about when you feel bold enough to say something back at him or even whisper in his ear how badly you need him that really perks up an honest smile and an honest hard on.

The Way You Moan His Name: He cannot get enough of it. It’s so soft, and breathless sometimes while he is in missionary with you he will groan in your ear “Say my name.” Repeatedly Sometimes you can use it to tease him in public to rile him up. Fair warning though, if he is in a slightly annoyed mood you’ll pay for it later.

#shanks x y/n #shanks x you #shanks headcanons #shanks imagine #shanks smut #Shanks x Black reader #Shanks x female reader #shanks one piece #one piece shanks

[propheticeve]

Hoodoo is CLOSED to non black AMERICANS

Hoodoo is distinct in that it involves working with specific ancestral spirits and deities, many of whom remain unfamiliar to the broader spiritual community. This sacred connection extends beyond mere knowledge; it is an intimate relationship with spirits deeply ingrained in the Hoodoo pantheon. These spiritual entities are closely tied to the experiences of Black Americans, and understanding them requires a profound awareness of one's lineage.

:

Hoodoo is considered a closed practice, meaning that access to its teachings is earned through guidance and mentorship. True practitioners are taught; they don't self-proclaim. Unfortunately, there is a concerning trend of non-Black individuals claiming to practice Hoodoo without a genuine understanding of its essence. Many cannot name a single spirit from the Hoodoo pantheon, exposing a significant gap in their knowledge.

It's crucial to distinguish Hoodoo from general folk magick practices. Hoodoo demands practitioners to delve into their lineage, understand their history, and grow in spiritual wisdom. The conflation of Hoodoo with generic folk magick demonstrates a lack of comprehension about the unique cultural and historical underpinnings that define Hoodoo. Hoodoo requires knowledge of the American slave trade and its affects on black Americans

Ancestral spirits within Hoodoo are discerning entities, recognizing color and lineage. Contrary to the notion that spirits lack prejudice, Hoodoo practitioners assert that ancestral spirits work closely with their descendants. Given the historical context of slavery and oppression, it becomes inconceivable for these spirits to collaborate with those from the very lineage responsible for their suffering.

:

Unlike some other African Traditional Religions (ATRs), Hoodoo has resisted commercialization and exploitation. Its practitioners emphasize the sanctity of their belief system, urging others to respect and protect it. The appropriation of Hoodoo by those outside its cultural lineage is viewed as a disservice to its profound spiritual significance.

:

Hoodoo is not merely a set of rituals; it is a sacred tapestry woven with the threads of Black American history, spirituality, and resilience. The claim that anyone, irrespective of background, can practice Hoodoo disregards its closed nature and the imperative to honor its cultural specificity. It is time to acknowledge and respect the boundaries of Hoodoo, safeguarding its authenticity and the spiritual legacy it represents.

#hoodoo #medium #witch #ancestor veneration #rootwork #black women #conjure #prophet #tutnese #luxury

[indigos-stardust]

Four Keys: Skhadu (Shadow)

So I'm gonna be real guys I am filled with guilt that I have not posted their lore and stories, I'm just too much of a perfectionist so I'm just gonna ramble like I'm talking to a friend so I can get all of this out

Tw for child abuse, but its not descriptive its just part of his story

So Skhadu is an illegitimate prince of the draconic people in this fantasy world. He hates his father (Ganondorf <3) and his fathers Advisor/Mage (Vaati <3) even more!

He hates not having real power but still being forced into doing crap for everyone and then not even having the freedom to make his own choices.

Hes kinda been forced into this enforcer role, where he kinda has to terrorize anyone trying to plan some rebellion or coup or whatever. There's a lot of issues especially with the Kings great hibernation coming and the rumor of their only valid heir, Skhadu's half sister, being extremely ill. Like "Oh hey I might die" ill.

She would be the one with the crown and guardianship of their fathers Realm (kingdom wise and centuries nap wise). So if she's out for the picture, or at least weak, then that leaves alot of room for plenty of others to take a chance at power.

Point is though, Skhadu still has to attend stffy formal events, be constantly controlled so he doesnt "Embarrass the crown even more", and train to just do whatever everyone else orders him to do. The training is very brutal, and with Vaati being the one teaching him his magics? No very fun...

Not to mention he's constantly disrespected and humiliated, he has no choice, no freedom... just occasionally pity. It's what his father said preventing him from being killed.

So Skhadu runs away. He's still a prince. Just a Prince of Theives now. Or that's what he proclaims anyways.

He wants to make as much money as possible with as much chaos and fun as he wants thank you very much! Get real power on his own! Cause as much chaos and destruction however HE wants to! Not worry about responsibilities or appearances! Or Vaati threatening to lock him in a cage for two weeks without any food again! Adventure! maybe a girlfriend! Freedom! Money!! That he can actually use!!!

He even has the skills for it too- All his years stealing, sneaking, and fighting Vaati has payed off! And he's not only read about plenty of techniques, he's even learnt from other thieves<3 he's definitely found his place

SURPRISE: The heir, his half sister, really is ill. Fatally. He is the next best thing to an heir they have. The closet thing to keeping power in the family. They'll offer him whatever he wants if he comes back.

Skhadu does not want to come back. He finally got real freedom. Real happiness. He understands how much the "power" he'd get is just a lie. He's not interested. Responsibilities are gross. He'll live in secret and have an AWESOME time doing that thank you very much. The colorfully worded letter containing his own scales proves that.

So the manhunt ensues. He'll never be caught- Hes too smart, too clever-The crumbling Kingdom can suck it and figure out their own issues! Not force him to! Hed rather end up in a jailhouse again than being publically executioned whenever a new coup shows up.

Or just live in hell being nothing but Vaati's puppet. He knows he can't run away forever though.

Buuuuuuut, something does catch his eyes...

There's some little haggle of misfit adventurers looking for some "triforce" artifact or whatever. Something about "finding the sacred keys" or some crap. It sounds like a bunch of guys high of fairy dust believing in some folk tale, but Skhadu knows better. Because he knows that's what his father was searching for. To restore the power of their kingdom, and become a god. Skhadu had just thought he was a madman. But with the evidence he's seeing... Maybe Ganondorf is not.

It's supposed to take the energy of one's soul and mix it with their greatest desire. Fueled by the raw magic of the elements, their wildest dreams can come true... Even defeating death.

Its.. probably an exaggeration, but based on the actual viable magical documents, it does seem entirely possible he could use it to save his sister. He's NOT doing it because he "cares" about her or whatever. Shes stuck up and overly perfect! Skhadu is just doing it for his own interest, its a dog eat dog world afterall. If she can be the heir then they'll stop hunting him, and he'll be free!

Besides, those adventurers or whatever? They're a bunch of saps, it'' be super easy to trick them! He'll just let them do all the hard work and steal it from them at the very end! Yes, yes, he IS a genius, and a very handsome one at that.

Sure he'd be a traitor to the throne and his new "friends", but really, what's one more lie to the pile?

#four keys #my art #my au #four swords #fs #shadow link #fs shadow #four swords shadow #fs art #four swords art #four swords manga #four keys shadow

[starcrossedxwriter]

Unbreakable Part 3 (Erik Killmonger x OC)

Warnings: none...

A/n: a little pre-Christmas gift. Enjoy!

Naja pushed the knife into his side, not enough to draw blood but just enough for him to feel it. 

“Yield.” 

“Aight girl, damn.” Naja smirked to herself before letting him go and sliding the knives back into their sheaths at her waist. “You don’t know the difference between friendly training ’n a real fight, do you?” 

“Well, this isn’t friendly so…” she shrugged, though she found her tone was not the entirely cold one she hoped it would be as she went to grab water. “And a person who thinks any fight is friendly is a person who won’t live long. No one out there is going to fight friendly so why would I train as such? Easy way to meet the ancestors faster if you ask me.” 

His response, not that he did not agree with it, shocked him. Every day, he realized just how truly different she was now. Or at least, how different she outwardly showed herself to be. But it could not have just been their break up, he reasoned. It had to be something else to harden her to this degree. 

“May I ask you something?” 

He lifted his head. “Well that would involve talking to me?” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. Tell me how you keep beatin’ my ass and I’ll answer your question.”

Naja mulled over his compromise for a moment before nodding, the terms seemed logical and fair enough. She crossed back over the mat to stand in front of him.  

“It’s not that hard. You fight like most overconfident men, feel free to take offense to that, by the way.” He merely rolled her eyes. Her jabs seemed to roll off his back, which annoyed her to no end. “Like you’re the biggest and strongest, you merely throw your weight around with little skill. And you can get away with that when you are indeed the biggest and the strongest. Most people can’t overpower brute strength. But I’ve never been the strongest and never will be. Certainly not the biggest in a fight and likely also never will be. So I rely on skill and skill alone. And my other senses. It’s obvious you know how to fight and have skill, even if it is… lacking since you took the herb. Because you know only a handful of equally enhanced people could hope to beat you. You want to beat me? Focus on using your mind to beat me, not those giant muscles,” she gestured at his bulging biceps. 

“Damn, you good. And right. That first day I fought you was my first time fightin’ in a year. Maybe you can teach me some of those skills?” 

Naja stared at him for a few moments before acquiescing. She would never admit it to him but she enjoyed their afternoon sparring sessions. Though they had been at it for a week, this was the most they had spoken in their sessions. He did not push conversation on her even though she could always tell there was a question on the tip of his lips. But their time together steadily opened the release valve on the tension between them even if they did not speak to each other. Every blow, grunt, and kick chipped away at the barrier between them, just as - she imagined - he knew it would. She hated that his plan was working. 

“Deal. We’ll try some new things tomorrow.” 

“I’m a man of my word… now,” he added with a chuckle when her eyebrow raised. “What do you wanna know?” 

“How did a man who vowed to sooner destroy Wakanda before he stepped foot in it again manage to get his hands on our most sacred herb?” 

He scratched the nape of his neck, that was not the question he was expecting. But it was a fair one. He had once vowed to burn Wakanda to the ground for what they took from him. And now he was back, serving the country as loyally as any other soul would, had given up more than most would - though he chose not to think about the long-term freedoms he gave up for it. Only T’Challa knew the road that led him back, that changed his mind. 

“You weren’t wrong…” he closed the space between them. 

“I rarely am,” she offered, which made him laugh. 

Conceded but true, he thought to himself. 

“T’Challa and I did reconnect after his father died… couple years before the Blip. He gave me a set of beads and told me if I ever needed anythin’, call him. Never thought I’d need to call it in, never thought I’d need him. And then… shit hit the fan after the Blip, tried to save someone instead of myself and got shot.” He gestured toward the faintest scar among the raised scarring on his chest. “Escaped, used one of the beads to stabilize myself, called T’Challa. By the time they got me back, the herb was the only option.” 

“You were shot?” She whispered. Without thinking, her hand reached to his scarred chest and grazed over the faint line left behind. It was barely visible against the bumps that marred his perfect skin. The picture of it pained her soul, the idea of him floating between life and death. “I d-don’t understand you,” she whispered with a soft chuckle and head shake. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You claimed to have no room in your heart for anyone, claimed to love nothing and no one. Who on this planet was worth almost dying for?” 

Erik grabbed her hand, holding it to his chest, which tore her eyes from his scar to his deep brown ones. 

“Someone who reminded me of the most important thing I sacrificed, the thing I always wanted to get back to.” 

She could feel the ice between them, the ice she so desperately clung to, melting away as if someone set it ablaze. It could not withstand this, this fire that brewed between them under the surface of disdain. She could no longer ignore it in favor of righteous rage. He was making it impossible to do so. She wanted to resist it, break free of him and this spell he kept putting her under. But his pull was impossible to resist. She was paralyzed there with him and that terrified her. 

“W-why’d you stay?” 

“I saw my dad in the Ancestral Plane. Reminded me that I… I had been on the run from hard shit long enough, that I made mistakes and I needed to stay and fix them. Atone for them. So I vowed to stick around this time and do that.”

“And did you? Fix it?” Her voice was reduced to a whisper. 

“Some of it. Some are proving harder but I got 5 or 6 weeks left.” 

She wished Bast would send her some snappy retort, something to remind him that she hated him. However, there was nothing. No jabs, no anger, nothing she could offer. The old her, the one she buried beneath everything she was today, yearned for him as if he were oxygen for her to breathe. But she couldn’t, couldn’t let her out again, allow herself to be hurt like that again.

“What if t-that isn’t enough? What if t-there’s t-too much damage?” 

He shrugged. “With enough work, anything can be fixed. And I ain’t ever let a challenge stop me.” 

She let out a shaky breath as his face leaned in closer to hers. It was as if something transported her back to her teens. She was 16 again, sneaking through the caves of the falls with Erik, ready to fall into the roaring river that was him. And here she was, foolishly, teetering on that edge again. And the rope that kept her tethered to the edge, a decade of pain and anger, that was fraying at the middle with each passing moment in his presence. 

However, she was thankful when both of their beads rang out loudly, a cannon that forced them away from each other. 

Thank Bast, she thought to herself. She still answered some prayers.

“It’s T’Challa,” she mumbled. “W-We should go.” 

Erik tried to mask the crestfallen look on his face before he nodded and followed her out. Every day he had to remind himself that movement and rebuilding was slow tedious work. And his road back into Naja’s good graces would a long one.

***

Naja tossed and turned, groaning slightly to herself. Sleep was more difficult in Wakanda than she thought it would be. She was used to holding late hours, whether for her shifts at the bar or for activities that required the cover of night before sleeping until noon. It also did not help how soft her bed was. She had long left the luxuries of Wakanda behind and now they were difficult to grow accustomed to again. 

Her family was determined to use every moment of her time with them. A certain adorable prince demanded Naja’s attendance at breakfast before he went to school, which meant early mornings with the family. She spent most of the day with Nakia and the baby before sparring with Erik in the afternoon, an activity she hated to admit she looked forward to. 

“You aren’t sleeping,” she mumbled to herself before sliding out of bed. She grabbed her long duster to provide some level of decency to her short sleeping shorts and tank top. She wished she had the company of man to help her at least feel tired but she did not. Besides, everytime she thought about it… there was only one man that came to mind and that was beyond out of the question. 

She slid on her slippers and, because she was who she was, grabbed her gun from under her pillow and tucked it in the waistband of her shorts. What would she need it for? She did not know but she did not go anywhere at night without it. 

She slipped out of her quarters, nodding at the two Dora who stood guard outside her wing. They did not follow her, thank Bast. But that had been the compromise. 

She meandered through the halls, soft candles leading her around as she wandered. A soft wind blew through the open halls of the palace, leading her to the gardens. She walked through, savoring the beauty and quiet of the space. She settled in a patch that grew vibrant blue lilies she knew Nakia had planted as they grew along the falls. They were her personal favorites. She sat there and studied them, noting every shade of blue in each petal. They reminded her of a softer life, a softer time. She used to keep a bouquet of them by her bed when she was young. 

She had no desire to go back there but she could not pretend that sometimes she didn't missed it. She missed the girl that could fall asleep on mattresses that felt like clouds and became gleeful at pretty flowers. Who sought out the beauty in every person, not the ulterior motives they had to harm her. That girl was dead and buried, rightfully so but she was missed. 

As quickly as her reminiscing started, it ended as she felt a presence behind her. Instinctively, she jumped up and grabbed her gun, pointing it at Erik. 

“Ain’t seen someone move that fast in a minute,” he offered, admiration in his voice despite the gun aimed between his eyes. “You a good shot?” 

“Better than you I’m sure,” she mumbled. “They didn’t teach you at your assassin school about sneaking up on other assassins?” 

“Wasn’t sneakin’. I said your name twice before you almost blew my head off.” 

Naja blinked a few times in shock. “Oh, sorry, don’t know how I didn’t hear you.” She stowed her weapon back behind her back and shifted her weight awkwardly. “Couldn’t sleep either?” 

“Nah… just don’t need it much anymore. One of the benefits of the herb. Lots of time to wander and think.” 

Some nights, the restlessness in his spirit was simply unbearable so he just wandered. He often left the palace and went to his favorite spots in the country. But some nights like tonight, he just walked around the palace. Since he moved in, he imagined he had learned every nook and cranny. No one ever bothered him or even tried to stop him, though he knew every midnight stroll made its way back to T’Challa. 

He had free range but he also knew T’Challa kept a close eye on him. He was not intrusive or overbearing so Erik chose to ignore it and let T’Challa do whatever he needed to do to feel secure about Erik’s residency there. And though T’Challa would never admit it, Erik also knew that his spying had an ulterior motive driven by a fear that T’Challa would wake up one day and Erik would have disappeared without warning or a goodbye. 

That was not him anymore, he had learned his lesson years ago. Learned the irreversible pain abandoning people without thought or care for them did. And he vowed that he would never make such a callous choice again, especially since he would likely spend the rest of his life making up for the last time. If he could have, Bast knew he would go back and do so many things differently, make so many different choices. That was all the last 15 years had been: years and years to contemplate the terrible decisions he made in his youth. 

“And opportunities to steal from the kitchens?” she gestured toward the wrapped up napkins in his hand. 

“Another benefit or curse of the herb, dependin’ on how you look at it. Always hungry as fuck.” 

She chuckled. “I can relate,” she admitted. “To the hungry part at least.” 

Erik studied her for a minute before reaching his hand out, handing her the wrapped up food. She raised an eyebrow before taking it and opening it, revealing her favorite dessert, a Wakandan lime cake that she had not had in years but adored. 

“Wanna share? It’s that recipe you always loved.” 

She wanted to say no but she saw it for what it was: a peace offering. At least for them at this moment, even if it did not last till the sun rose in the morning. 

She settled back in her spot, Erik sitting next to her, the cake perched on his knee as they each broke off pieces. She stifled a moan as the flavors hit her taste buds. 

“Bast… I forgot how good that was. Thanks for sharing. I hope you didn’t poison it or something.” 

“You hate me, not the other way around, remember?” 

Yes, you do hate him. Remember?? A voice yelled in her head. But did she? Really? Cause everything she felt right now was far from hate. Complicated, yes? But hate was not complicated at all. 

“Right. Wouldn’t be wise on your part to accept any cake from me then.” She grabbed another piece and popped it in her mouth before laying back in the soft grass. Her eyes studied the stars as they laid there in silence, Erik quietly handing her pieces of cake as he watched her. 

“Can I ask you somethin’? You owe me at least that, eating all my damn cake.” Not that he minded. 

“I’m nothing if not fair. What do you want to know?” 

Erik wanted to know so much, he wanted to know everything that had happened to her in the last 15 years but he knew it was a slow build to gaining her trust again. Which meant he had to start with a soft ball, something simple and easy that would not ruffle any feathers. 

“Been readin’ war dog files and most choose jobs and covers that… give them comfort. You chose a bartender in the poorest part of the country, why?” 

Naja turned onto her side to look at him. This was the most relaxed Erik had seen her since he arrived and he loved it. 

“T’Challa asked the same thing when I picked it,” she chuckled. “When I was assigned to Niganda as home base, I knew I needed to keep a low profile, I needed to be flexible and available for missions. And the poorest village in any country is the most overlooked. Knew no one would look twice. Perfect place to hide. And then I just grew to love it, the people… the heart of it. They don’t have much but everyone does everything they can for everyone. And I became a war dog to help people. If I was going to take lives, I figured I could help them too. And then it just became home.” 

“You are so different now…” he mumbled as he stared at her. 

She shrugged. “Had to be. Wasn’t going to survive any other way. Suppose I should thank you for that? If you hadn’t…” she did not want to say it. “Left, I wouldn’t be who I am today.” 

“And is she better than who you were?” He asked, holding her gaze. 

“She’s stronger. She won’t be broken ever again. She can’t be.” 

Erik knew he should quit while he was ahead. They were dancing into dangerous territory that could undo the fragile peace they had created between them. But he could not stop himself. He hated that she thought such things about herself, hated that she thought so lowly of herself. 

“What makes you think she wasn’t strong?” 

“Because she…” Naja stopped herself. She did not think she could go down this road with him. He wanted vulnerability and she was not interested in giving it to him. He did not deserve it. “I believe you asked for one question… not eight follow ups,” she joked. “I should head back to my room.” She stood up and dusted off her clothes. “Thanks for the cake.” 

Erik sighed. He figured he was taking it too far but he lost control when he was with her. Forgot about his obligations and all the things his brain knew he should not do. All he could think about was what his heart wanted and that was her, all of her. 

“Let me walk you back.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t need an escort.” 

“I know you don’t. Humor a nigga, damn. Were you always this stubborn?” 

Naja snorted. “Another consequence of your actions,” she shrugged. 

“Well your suite’s on the way to mine so we can walk in that direction together.” 

“You don’t give up, do you?” 

He closed the space between them, heat rising in Naja’s entire body as he stared down at her. “Nope. But I was always like that.” 

She did not say anything, there was no response she could offer that did not betray her. If she stayed in his presence, under his smolder much longer, he would end up in her bed. She had far less self control than he gave her credit for. 

She turned and walked back in the direction she came. They did not say much as they walked through the silent halls until they were back in front of her suite. 

“Thanks for the cake and conversation. It was nice,” she admitted. 

“How painful was that?” At her confused expression, Erik added. “To say somethin’  nice to me?” 

Naja laughed loudly. Fuck, Eirk forgot how much he missed that sound. “Very. Don’t make me regret it. And say a word of it to anyone else and I’ll show you how good of a shot I am,” she warned. 

“Fine if you do somethin’ for me? Next time you can’t sleep and want to go wanderin’, call me. I know all the best spots for us night owls.” 

She studied him. Everything in her warred. Her heart demanded she say yes, the voice she listened to the least. Her brain simply demanded she remember everything he had done to her, how he had destroyed her. But her heart recognized his effort, recognized that he was trying to earn her trust back. And what did she gain by pretending it was not working to some degree? But doing so scared her. Her anger and rage toward him had been fuel to survive, she did not know who she was without it. But even that fear was not strong enough to make her say that simple word: no. 

He had infiltrated every aspect of her being and there was only so much resistance she could put up.

“Fine. But this changes nothing between us. I just don’t enjoy wandering alone.” She did not even understand the point of adding that caveat. It was not true. The sum of two conversations had changed everything between them. 

Erik was not even annoyed or angry at her words. He deserved 99% of the lashings she gave him. He was honestly surprised she even said yes. But he would not complain, the barrier softened with every passing day and he would take whatever he could get. 

“I know. You still hate me. Understood. See you on the mat, Naja.” 

“Night.” 

Naja watched him walk off before closing the door to her room. She slumped against the door. 

“Fuck me,” she muttered before climbing into bed. 

However, she could not deny that Erik had a certain effect on her because she slept the rest of the night. Though her brain plagued her with dreams, or in her opinion nightmares, of him. Of her falling for him yet again. And each one ended the same way: with him leaving her heartbroken and alone. 

She was only pulled out of her dreams at a knock at her door. She groaned, wondering who had lost all common sense and was bothering her. She rubbed her eyes, noticing the sun was high in the sky. She glanced at her clock, breakfast was in a short while which meant she did not need to scream at whatever poor soul stood on the other side of her door. 

She slid on her robe and pulled open the door. 

“Sister Naja? I have a delivery for you.” The woman held a vase of blue flame lilies in her arms. “There’s also a note.” 

“Who are they from?” Naja asked, though she already knew the answer. 

“They said you would know.” and with that, she handed her the vase and note and walked away. Naja sat on her bed, sliding the vase down on her bedside table before opening the note. 

A girl once told me she liked to wake up to these every day because they were a reminder of the beauty in our world. One of the many lessons that girl taught me was that strength and beauty can co-exist. It took me too long to learn that lesson but when I did, it changed my life. I hope you haven’t forgotten it. 

A tear slid down her cheek as she studied the flowers. 

“I hate him so much,” she whispered to herself. But she knew the truth, the only thing she hated about Erik was how much she still loved him. And really, that was what she hated about herself more. 

***

“Again!” Naja demanded as she jumped to her feet. She spun the spear around her in her hand before stabbing into the soft material of the mat. 

Erik braced himself on his knees. “How the fuck you keep doin’ that shit? It’s like I ain’t even tryin’. This shit’s effortless for you.” 

“I’m just that good,” she winked at him before sighing. “I think you need an incentive.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

“Because this isn’t working. It would be easier to teach a penguin to fly than this… and less painful.” 

“So you got jokes? I’m gettin’ my ass beat... and you got jokes." 

Naja closed the space between them. “You’re getting your ass beat because you aren’t trying. You’re pulling your punches and holding back because you don’t want to hurt me. I’m not a child playing on the grown-ups’ mat. Fight me as you would fight any man out there. But I know you. You’ve always had a competitive spirit so let’s make a bet. Best two out of three and whoever wins gets whatever they want. Once in a lifetime opportunity. You in?”  

Erik’s ears immediately perked up. “You serious?” 

“Yes. You need an incentive, so make your wager good. Something you’d fight to the death for.” 

Erik saw a golden path laid out in front of him. This felt too good to be true. But she was completely and totally serious. She was offering him anything in this world. He knew she would fight equally hard to win but he had to try. Big risk, big reward was always his motto. 

“If I win, let me take you out to dinner.” 

Naja immediately shook her head. She clearly had not thought this plan through properly. Wandering through the palace and sparring together was one thing. She could be friendly with him again but she would not date him or intentionally foster the romantic feelings she felt for him. Never again.

“Absolutely not.” 

“You said somethin’ I’d fight to death for and any good spy knows to be specific and you didn’t give any parameters. So that’s it. One dinner outside the palace with me. Besides… it’s gotta be somethin’ you’d fight equally hard to ensure I lost. Gotta make it a fair fight.” 

He knew Naja was principled enough not to go back on her word. She wanted him to fight harder, this would certainly do it. But she hated that he kept trying, kept poking at her soft spots to make her fully cave for him. He was playing her like a fiddle and she was too weak  to stop him. 

However, a small piece of her demanded she resisted the pull to say yes and let Bast and fate decide what happened next.

“One dinner isn’t going to change anything between us. Pick something else.” 

“No. I can be just as stubborn as you.” 

“Pick. Something. Else.” She practically screamed at him, everything in her ignoring the electricity that sparked when they were they close. He woke up every cell in her body, charged her with energy and passion and lust. Everything she did not want to feel for him.

There was no space for Bast between them as they stood off. Despite their significant height difference, Naja did not cower. She stood tall before him even though she barely reached his chin.

“No. You can hate me, despise me. I don’t care. But I won’t stop tryin’, Naja. Even if all I can do is show you I’ve changed and that I regret what I did to you so you can hate me a little less. If that’s all I get, I can live with that. But I can't live knowing I didn't try so I’m gonna use every minute I got to show you. That’s a promise.” 

Naja pulled herself to the fullest height she could. “It won’t work.” 

“If you’re so sure it won’t work, then it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

Naja sucked her teeth. There was no retort for that… at least not one that would get her out of this hellish situation.  “Fine. Pick your weapon.” 

Once they both had their chosen spears in hand, the training center filled with the loud clashing of vibranium. Naja fought with every ounce of intensity she could muster, landing Erik on his back with her spear gently poking his chest in a few short minutes. 

“One for me. Feels like you played this little game all wrong. Instead of giving yourself an incentive, you just gave me a better one to beat your ass.” 

Erik bared his teeth with a menacing smile, his golden grill glistening slightly in the light before he pushed himself to his feet. “I played the game exactly like I wanted to, baby girl. But I like it when you talk shit.” 

Naja bristled at the pet name he used to call her. She imagined he pulled it out simply to touch a nerve but it sounded so effortless too. No one had called her that since him and it, like the flowers he gave her, woke something in her she thought was dead and gone. 

What Naja did not know is that Erik had used the first round to his advantage. He used the time to study her, how she attacked, which weak spots she would go for first. So during the second round, he met her blow for blow, blocking every single one with such precision that she could not hide her shock and surprise. 

“I knew you were holding out on me.” 

“What half assed assassin school did you go to where they didn’t teach you the number 1 rule?” he asked as he slashed the blunt end of his spear against her back, causing her to fall to the ground. 

It was the first time he grounded her but even in her shock, she rolled to her side and immediately bounced to her feet, ignoring the lack of air in her lungs. 

Fuck, she was exhausted. And she knew then that she was screwed. 

“And what’s… that?” 

“No one’s your friend so you should never show all your tricks. And you’ve been showing me all of yours for weeks.” 

And just as Naja lunged to take him down, Erik grabbed the end of her spear and yanked her against his chest. With a move she had never seen before, he twisted the weapon out of her grasp and her arm behind her back, forcing her to remain flush to his chest. For good measure and to prove he had won the round, he grabbed a knife he kept hidden in his vest and held it to her throat. 

“Yield.” 

Naja could feel every scar on his chest pressed against her bare skin as she fought him in only a sports bra and leggings. She could feel every muscle and ounce of strength against her. 

“Screw you,” she spat angrily as she yanked her arm free and turned to face him. 

“I forgot you were a sore loser. One to one. One more round, baby girl.” 

“Call me that again and you’ll meet Bast a lot sooner than you want to.” 

They both crouched down into their fighting stances and pounced. It was more than a dance this time, it was the performance of a lifetime for both of them. There was too much on the line… everything was on the line. Every trick, hidden skill, ruthless action they could use without killing the other, they did. They were fighting to win and they were two people who never lost. 

Everytime each of them thought they had the other in their crosshairs, they found a way to weasel out of them. Naja was afraid of how sore she would be in the morning but she did not care. For all intents and purposes, she was fighting for her life on that mat. Losing her dignity to Erik Stevens again was not an option. 

However, Erik knew one thing that Naja did not want to admit. His enhancements meant that he could last longer in a fight than any of his opponents, even if they were better fighters. He did not have to outfight Naja… he simply had to outlast her. And sure enough, as this round went on for nearly double the amount of time as the others, he could see her movements grow tired and slower. She usually moved with the precision and quickness of a machine. But she was not a machine, she was human and the human body had a limit. She was reaching hers. 

Erik thought about dragging it out but he was a victor ready to claim his prize. While he was the type of monster who enjoyed playing with his food before he went in for the kill, he knew this win would be delicious without all that. 

He waited until Naja lunged for him before he spun away from her and kicked the back of her knee. She groaned in pain as she toppled like a tree. Her usual move to return to her feet was too slow, giving Erik the chance to straddle her hips and pin her hands to the ground. 

“Yield.” He demanded, his voice low and domineering. 

She bucked against him a few times to get him off of her, frustrated at the heaviness that was him against her small frame. She was stuck beneath him and she had lost. They both knew it. 

Her chest heaved and Erik found it difficult not to let his eyes fall to her full chest, the tops of her breasts on display for him. He had forgotten what it was like to have her beneath him. He knew he could never have her like this in the setting he wanted but he could reminisce.

“Say it or we ain’t movin’.”

“I yield,” she whispered through gritted teeth, Erik allowing her to sit up. 

He held out his hand to help her to her feet but like the sore loser she was, she swatted it away and stood up on her own. She stomped over to her bag and wiped the dripping sweat off of her in a fit of rage. How did she lose?

Because you’re weak when it comes to him. Always have been and always will be. 

She could not even look at him in her frustration at him and herself for this stupid position she put herself in. She supposed she just had not expected it to backfire so spectacularly. 

“That was fun. You were right… just needed a good incentive.” He threw her a teasing smile, which her deadpan face did not return. “See you for our walk tonight. I’ll let you know about dinner, just make sure to wear somethin’ black and gold,” he winked at her before grabbing his stuff and leaving the training center.

As she watched him retreat, Naja paced in circles on the training mat before letting out a loud frustrated groan. For good measure, she pulled out all of the knives in her vest one by one and aimed them at the door Erik just walked out of. Each one hit the same square inch of the door with precision right where his head had been only seconds earlier.  

“Should’ve been his fucking face,” she muttered to herself before grabbing her bag and stalking out of the center, her hands angrily ripping each knife out of the door before she left. 

***

Erik could not help but check his beads and messages every five minutes. Tonight’s usual restlessness had turned to all-consuming anxiety as their usual meeting hour had passed without a call or message. He wondered if she was sulking as she had been all evening since their sparring match. She lost fair and square but he knew she would not be happy about it. But he had hoped she would come around by their late night walk.

He found that his few hours with Naja each day were the only things he looked forward to. There was still a coldness to her when they were around the entire family as if she was committed to the facade. But day by day, he got to see a bit of the old her until she realized and usually became cold again. However, he did not mind. He still had several weeks to fully peel back the curtain and he would take every minute he could. 

Maybe she is sleep. She actually needs it, unlike you. 

Erik only felt so bad about keeping her up at night. He knew her human non-enhanced body needed rest that his did not but he did not feel bad enough to cut their time together short. Deciding that he could not wait any longer and could just meet her in the gardens when and if she called, he decided to start his wandering journey without her. 

He pulled on his shoes and stepped out of his room, nodding at the Dora assigned to him. She waited for a moment, knowing he hated the shadows he was forced to keep with him. 

“Staying in the palace tonight,” he called over his shoulder, the woman’s shoulders easing a bit as she remained in her position. Even he had no interest in walking outside in one of Wakanda’s summer storms. He remembered those from when he was a kid, they were a force to be reckoned with. 

The storm immediately made him think of Naja, who was notoriously afraid of thunder and lightning. He wondered if she was still was. Though he imagined there was little she was afraid of these days.

His silent musings were cut short when a soft whimper filled his ears. He whipped his head around, glancing up and down the hall of rooms, his enhanced hearing straining to pick up on the sound again. 

When he heard it a second time, it was more pained, agonizing sadness that gripped his soul with incoherent mumblings he could not make sense of. But it was loud enough for him to know exactly who it was.  

“Naja.” 

His feet moved faster than light itself as he followed the pained sobs to her door. He did not think to knock or announce himself when he pushed inside to find her thrashing in her bed, her sheets tangled up in her limbs. Tears streamed down her face as she cried, he could see the small beads of tacky sweat that covered her. 

With only mere feet between them, he could finally hear her words, her soft apologies to someone who was not there. Select phrases hit his ears and felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart, her proclamations that something was her fault, her pleas for forgiveness. 

His eyes quickly scanned the papers and journals that were littered across her bed. Surveillance photos, maps, pictures of children, notes scribbled in her journal. None of it made sense to him without proper context but one thing he knew for certain: she was involved in far more than watching and observing. 

He sat down on the corner of her bed and gently touched her face, his palm cupping her cheek. His thumb whisked away her tears. At his touch, her body slowly settled, though her tears and mumbling pleas did not.

“Come back to me, Naja,” he whispered. His other hand rubbed her bare arm, hoping his touch would break through the barriers in her mind. “Wake up for me.” 

His instructions were low and his touch measured and gentle until he saw her eyes flutter open. 

“N-N’Jadaka?” She croaked as she blinked her eyes several times, adjusting to the darkness of her room. A loud crack of thunder caused her to jump slightly, Erik moving closer to her to rub her bare arms. She was shaking like a leaf. 

He was so concerned that he did not even get to revel in the fact that she used his real name for the fist time, the one she used to call him. 

“Hey, you’re ok. You’re ok. I just heard you havin’ a nightmare.” 

“J-just a nightmare… just a nightmare,” she muttered to herself as she forced her body into an upright position. Her eyes frantically surveyed her room as the realization that she was still in Wakanda hit her. Her eyes screwed shut, her arms wrapping around her knees as she repeated that refrain. “Just a nightmare.”

He was not sure what to make of the woman who sat in front of him now. She was such a juxtaposition to the hardened and cold spy who he had grown accustomed to since returning home. Since he saw her again, he felt like he was staring at her through a stained glass window. The other side peeked through ever so slightly but, for the most part, all he could see was the picture she wanted him to see and nothing more. But tonight? That stained glass window shattered and he could see her, the girl he fell madly in love with all those years ago. The girl who felt everything with her whole soul, loved so deeply for others, and lived in her vulnerability fully. 

Erik decided to make himself useful by pouring her a glass of water from the pitcher on her coffee table. However, she pushed it away when he tried to hand it to her, Naja suddenly overwhelmed by the shame that he, of all people, saw her in such a state. 

“I-I’m good,” she hastily wiped her tears.

Erik ignored her as he pushed the glass into her hand. It shook slightly so he wrapped his own hand around hers to ensure she did not spill it. 

“Drink.” She could tell his word was a command and not a suggestion, though the stubborn part of her wanted to remind him that he was in no position to give her orders.

He watched her intently as she took long sips, the tension in her frame easing every time she swallowed. 

“So you gonna tell me what that was about? And what all this is?” 

“Missing kids in the capital… stolen by the King and his soldiers but no one knows where they are or why. Two girls were taken earlier this evening. Every day I’m here, more of them go missing, more lives ruined and there’s nothing I can do.”

“The dream?” 

“I c-couldn’t sleep cause of the s-storm,” she gestured toward the window. “A-and finding out about the girls so I started pouring over my notes. Must’ve dozed off a-and… A-and I was back at my house there and I walked outside and… All their parents were outside, screaming a-and crying about how I couldn’t find them o-or save them. How no one cared about them. But I do… I c-care. I just… I pour over this mess every single night and I can’t…” she gestured at the mess on her bed. “I can’t figure it out. I can’t find them.” 

“Why you puttin’ that on yourself?” His thumb wiped one of her tears. 

“Because if I don’t… who will, Erik? I tried but I can’t… I can’t just watch and report. It’s not… it’s not me.” 

He shook his head. “I ain’t an idiot like T. I know you ain’t built for that watch dog shit. I am asking, why is it only on you to find them?”

She crossed her legs, tugging the blanket around her bare arms. She was not cold but something about the vulnerability made her shiver, shake. It also did not help that thunder and lightning raged outside. She hated storms, ever since she was a child. 

“Gotta find some way to earn some of my soul back,” she grimaced. She leaned back against the headboard. “I don’t regret it. I’d lead the same life over again if given the choice.” The conviction in her voice was resolute and unwavering. “Everything I’ve ever done was for our people and this country. But… It haunts me, all the suffering of this world that I ignored for years because it had nothing to do with the mission or serving Wakanda. These kids?” She picked up the stack of photos on the bed and handed them to him. “They aren’t Wakandan but does that mean their lives mean less? That they do not deserve our resources to find them? Save them? And if I can’t do it with all the resources and tech and everything we have that no one else on this planet does… what did I survive this long for then? I spent the better part of my life using those resources to take lives, I just want to spend whatever time I have left saving them.” 

Erik bowed his head. He understood the feeling, the ways in which the complex lives they chose haunted them day in and day out. But he had to learn how to make peace with it all. And she did too. 

“Naja… listen to me. Probably the last person you want advice from but I might be one of the only people ‘round here who get it. I killed a lot more people than you for a lot less righteous reasons. For revenge and to satisfy rage, not for country and all that shit. And I probably got more pleasure from it than you did. And that shit still haunts me too. I stayed here to save whatever pieces of my soul were left. I get it. But you… The girl I knew wanted to be a War Dog to help people and add to the world, not subtract from it. That girl ain’t dead. Maybe you just buried her beneath barriers to stop someone from ever hurtin’ you again. Because being a cold, unfeelin’ spy is less painful. Believe me, I tried that shit too. But our old selves always demand air eventually, Naja. And maybe this,” he took the photos out of her hand. “Is that air.” 

Fuck, I hate him, she though to herself. One thing that never changed about Erik was he knew exactly what to say, exactly what she needed to be whole again. This moment reminded her of the first time she and Erik slept together. They did not do anything but it was still the night she realized how utterly and insanely in love with him she was. It was a night not unlike this one, a summer storm keeping her up to the wee hours of the night. She had called him, expecting him to keep her company till she dozed off. But instead, he commandeered a jeep and was outside her window 20 minutes later. She buried herself in his chest while he offered her soothing words and stories until she fell asleep. 

He had always been her rock, her emotional constant when she was in pain. Part of her hated herself for still needing that from anyone, but particularly for craving it from him. 

“That girl’s gone, Erik,” she muttered, trying to regain some semblance of control in that moment. She could not remember the last time she was vulnerable with someone and she was not particularly interested in doing it now. “Time and life killed her. This is me now.” 

“If that girl was really gone, you would not be screamin’ yourself awake with nightmares over kids you don’t know. We can be as cold and unfeelin’ as we wanna be but who we were back then is  still there. And there’s nothin’ wrong with that. I thought the girl you were was pretty dope anyway,” he pushed her braids behind her shoulder with a smile. “I know you ain’t gonna go back to sleep so explain it to me.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“You ain’t goin’ back to sleep with all that outside.” The wind and thunder seemed to pick up on cue as he spoke. At her surprised expression he shrugged. “I remember everything about you.” 

Her voice hitched slightly as she studied him, she felt all of it. So much love and adoration in his eyes that clashed with everything he had once made her believe about herself. A voice in her mind cautioned her with loud echoing words. 

He doesn’t love you, he doesn’t care for you. He never did. 

But everything in the way he studied her, the way he touched her, the way he intimately remembered everything about her she desperately tried to forget signaled that he did. But she learned the hard way where trusting Erik got her: years of agony, pain, and guilt for choices his actions forced her to make that she did not know if she could ever forgive him for. She hated how he slowly chipped away at the villainous image she had created of him. It was easy to hate a villain, but whatever he was now? The duality of being both her villain and her savior? That was an emotional gray area that she had no interest in living in. 

“I’m not worth remembering or sticking around for, remember?” She responded, her only defense to protect herself was to hit low. Though her words did not have the sharpness she intended. Instead they just sounded how she felt when she heard them: heartbroken.

And the blow landed but Erik did not let it deter him. She deserved to land a cheap shot or two, he deserved it. “I can’t undo the past. But you can let me atone for it by helpin’ you out now. If the Nigandans are plannin’ somethin’, I should know about it.” He decided to omit the real reason why he also needed to know what the Royal Family was orchestrating. That reality was a long ways off. “Besides, another pair of eyes might be exactly what you need. Let me help you, Naja.” 

She did not want to say yes and give him more opportunities to get close to her. However, the lives of these children and families were more important than her pride, even she knew that.

“Fine. But this changes nothing between us,” she warned as she shifted the materials on her bed around so she could walk him through everything in order. 

“I’d expect nothing less,” he remarked. 

An hour passed by the time Naja finished reviewing all the materials and evidence with him. 

“So? What do you think?” 

He shook his head. “Defintiely somethin’s goin’ on. But to stop the peace talks or get Wakanda to intervene, you gotta have more than this. And that takes time.” 

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I know, I know. I just don’t know how much time these kids have.” 

Erik rubbed her knee, trails of fire and heat cascading up her body at his touch. She awkwardly shifted her leg out of the way to avoid his grasp. She refused to fall, not again.  

“I’m gonna help you. T got me working the peace talks on my end now. Maybe with your undercover work and my spot in the negotiations, we can piece it all together. And maybe, if I help you bring these kids home, we can at least be friends?” 

“Don’t hold your breath,” she muttered under her breath, which made Erik chuckle. 

“I won’t.” 

“But thank you. Seriously,” she squeezed his hand gently, a spark igniting between them before she tore it away. “Umm…I should try to go back to bed. Sorry for missing our meeting time tonight.” 

“All good. Night, Naja.” 

“Night, Erik.” 

Naja watched him start to head to the door, more loud cracks of thunder echoing around her. Something in her just broke, cracked her wide open and the girl she once was demanded air, freedom. And the only air she wanted was him. She knew it was a bad idea. It was the dumbest idea she had ever had. But she was about to make it. The night had stripped her bare, left her scared and boneless. And she was tired of dealing with all of that alone. 

“Erik!” She called after him as he opened her door. He stopped and turned to look at her, tears streaming down her face. “Stay.” 

That one word knocked the wind out of him. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, Naja.” He forced the words out, even though it was painful to do so. He wanted to stay, desperately so. But he knew she would hate herself and him in the morning if he did. 

“I don’t want… that,” she clarified, though that was a lie. She did want that, she wanted him to fuck her senseless so she forgot everything else. But she was strong enough to resist that. She was not strong enough to resist the part of her that just needed someone there. “I just… don’t want to be alone tonight. Please.”

That was all Erik needed to hear. He walked back over to her bed and slipped in beside her, his strong arms pulling her onto his chest. She curled up into his side and immediately relaxed, no longer jumping or tensing when loud thunder rolled through. They had done this countless times as teens and it felt just as easy and simple as it was back then. 

Even Erik felt at peace, his usual restlessness gone as they slept soundly in each other’s arms. 

When Naja woke up the next morning, she was shocked to find her body pressed against a hard chest. Before she could even open her eyes, the events of the night came back to her. 

What the fuck did you do? A voice accused her. 

She immediately extracted herself from Erik’s arms, causing him to shift and open his eyes. 

Awkward silence stretched between them as they stared at each other. Naja did not know what to say. One bad night and she had invited him into her bed? How sad, how cliche, how fucking stupid could she be? 

As if he could sense or see her internal downward spiral, Erik immediately climbed out of her bed and offered. “If you don’t want it to mean anythin’, then it doesn’t have to. Just a friend comforting a friend and I don’t plan on tellin’ anyone. We’re good, Naja.” 

Except… it did mean something. She could lie and say it didn’t but it did. It meant something that he came to her rescue, that he stayed even though she gave him no real reason to show her any kindness. It all meant something to her. As much as she did not want it to, it did. That rope that held her from falling into the sea of him? Well, it was so close to giving out and there was no materials to reinforce it. 

Last night was the safest she had felt in years… in the arms of the man she thought she hated most on this planet. Was she so prideful that she could reasonably ignore that? Erik said he wanted to prove that he changed… perhaps she should give him that chance. She was not betraying who she was now by doing so. She was honoring that some part of her, however small, still needed him in some way. And if 15 years of pretending that was not the case did not make the feeling go away, perhaps it was time to acknowledge that the feeling simply would never go away. 

“Thank you. See you at breakfast,” she whispered as she hugged her robe around her body. She felt exposed and not just physically. 

He nodded and started walking toward the door. However, before he could leave, she said, “For dinner… no where we went when we were together the first time.” 

He paused and glanced back at her. Naja took a tentative step toward him. 

“Every cell in my body is telling me not to do this. But… you said you’ve changed. So show me. But this is it… this dinner you fought for is it. The only chance you’ll get again to show me something different than the Erik who broke me. Don’t make me regret trusting you again.” 

“You won’t. And that’s a promise I can keep. See you at breakfast.

Tag list: @miyuhpapayuh @pipsqueak-98 @injerafiend @themakingsofdion @lishabaybee @certifiedlesbianbaddie @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @dangerous-history @roguekiki @mysteryuz @shyblackgurl

***

A/N: Alright Naja is giving him a chance? Sort of? lol drop a comment and let me know what you thought and how you think their dinner is going to go! As always, thanks for reading!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

[yoga-onion]

Legends and myths about trees

Celtic beliefs in trees (21)

E for Eadha (Aspen) - September 21st Autumn Equinox

“Whispering tree, also known as Trembling tree  - Autumn Equinox of the Celtic Tree Calendar (Ref), when moving into darkness”

Star: Pluto, Mercury, Saturn: Gemstone: black opal,; Gender: female; Patron deity: Persephone, Hades; Symbol: listening, overcoming fear + courage, shield, light in the darkness

Aspen trees are all native to cold regions with cool summers, in the north of the northern hemisphere, extending south at high-altitude areas such as mountains or high plains.

The aspen is referred to as quaking aspen or trembling aspen because the leaves "quake" or tremble in the wind. This is due to their flattened petioles which reduce aerodynamic drag on the trunk and branches, so that they catch any slight breeze, making the leaves tremble, flutter and make a soft, rustling sound each time they do so. In autumn, the leaves turn bright yellow and sometimes red, and when they fade further and turn black, they fall off.

The ancient Celts believed that the wind was a messenger of the word of the gods and therefore considered anything that was in tune with the wind sacred. The same is true of the aspen tree. The aspen, which has the best ears of all trees, always rustled its leaves in response to the voice of the gods.

However, the aspen, with its close connection to death and the underworld, came to be regarded as a tree of misfortune. In earlier times, corpses and graves were counted with a cane made of aspen named fé, and people were terribly afraid of the calamities that would befall them if they were struck with this cane. The connection with the seasons, rest and rebirth was often overlooked, and many people, cowering in fear, heard only the abominable sound of aspen leaves rustling in the wind. However, the teachings of the aspen are about overcoming the fear of death, the fear of the unknown and fear itself. The aspen was called the 'shield tree' by the Irish Celts, and is said to have been their favourite tree for making shields. This was not only because aspens provided a reassuring shield, but also because they protected us from flinching in the face of the unknown, once we had taken their teachings to heart.

Incense made from aspens is burned continuously during Halloween (Celtic festival of Samhain). Halloween is the time of year when the distance between this world and the underworld is at its closest, and the period that ushers in the new year. Samhain is also the festival of the New Year, which takes place on November the 1st, the beginning of the year, but it is also the festival of the dead. It is believed that during nights between the end of the year and the beginning of the new year, the border with the other world disappears, the souls of the dead visit their relatives, and demons and evil spirits cause damage to crops and livestock.

Ancient Celtic cultures were known to carve turnips or potatoes and place embers inside to ward off evil spirits. That's because Ireland didn't have pumpkins. In England, large beets were used. When immigrants brought over their carving tradition, Americans began carving jack-o'-lanterns from pumpkins.

木にまつわる伝説・神話

ケルト人の樹木の信仰 (21)

EはEadha (ﾎﾟﾌﾟﾗ) - 9月21日・秋分の日　

『ささやきの木、震える木 〜 ケルトの木の暦（参照）・秋分、暗闇に移るとき』

星: 冥王星、水星、土星: 宝石: ブラック・オパール、; 性: 女性; 守護神: ベルセポネ、ハデス; シンボル: 聞くこと、恐怖の克服+勇気、楯、暗闇の中の光明

ポプラ (ｾｲﾖｳﾔﾏﾅﾗｼ‘山鳴らし’) の木はすべて、北半球の北部で夏が涼しく寒い地域に自生し、南は山や高原などの標高の高い地域に広がっている。

ポプラは、葉が風で「震える」ことから、山鳴らしと呼ばれている。これは、幹や枝の空気抵抗を減らすために葉柄が平らになっているためで、どんな微風もとらえ、その度に葉は震え、はためき、さらさらと柔らかな音を立てる。秋になると、葉は鮮やかな黄色に色づき、時には赤くなり、さらに色あせて黒くなると落葉する。

古代ケルト人は、風は神の言葉を伝える使者と信じていたため、風と同調するものは何でも神聖視していた。ポプラの木も同様だ。すべての木の中で最も優れた耳を持つポプラは、いつも神の声に応じて葉をそよがせていたのだ。

ところが、死や地下の国とつながりの深いポプラは、不幸を招く木とみなされるようになった。その昔、死体や墓はフェという名前の、ポプラでできた杖で数えられていたし、この杖で打たれると災難がふりかかると人々はひどく恐れていた。四季、安息、再生との関わりはしばしば見過ごしにされ、恐怖に身をすくませた多くの人たちは、風にそよぐポプラの葉音に忌まわしい声だけを聞き取った。しかし、ポプラの教えは、死の恐怖、未知なるものへの恐れ、そして恐怖心そのものを克服することにあるのだ。ポプラは、アイルランドのケルト人に「楯の木」と呼ばれ、彼らが楯をつくるのに最も好んだ木と言われている。それは、ポプラが単に心強い防具になっただけに留まらず、ひとたびポプラの教えを我がものとしたなら、未知なるものを前にしてもたじろがないように守ってくれたからに他ならない。

ハロウィン (ケルトのサウィン祭)の期間中、ポプラから作られたお香が焚かれ続ける。ハロウィンは、現世と冥界の距離が最も近くなる時期であり、新年を迎える期間でもある。サウィンは、1年の始まりである11月1日に行われる新年の祭りでもあるが、同時に死者の祭りでもある。年末から新年が始まるまでの夜は、あの世との境界がなくなり、死者の魂が親族を訪ね、悪魔や悪霊が農作物や家畜に被害を与えると信じられている。

古代ケルト文化圏では、悪霊を追い払うためにカブやジャガイモを刻んで中に燠火を入れていたことが知られている。アイルランドにはカボチャがなかったからだ。イギリスでは大きなビーツが使われた。移民がカボチャを彫る習慣を持ち込むと、アメリカ人はカボチャからジャック・オー・ランタンを彫るようになった。

#trees #tree legend #tree myth #folklore #celtic tree calendar #celtic belief #aspen #trembling aspen #quacking aspen #Samhain #jack o lantern #celtic traditions #nature #art #whispering tree #autumn equinox

[duskdog]

You know, fandom seems to talk about Wrathion's past mistakes a lot, but I don't often see anyone discuss his visits to the August Celestials during his legendary questline. Like, sure, people occasionally bring up his attitude towards Tong, but how many current players were there to experience (and still remember) the rest of that quest? When I think of Wrathion, I think first of the whelp who literally dropped to his knees before the Red Crane of Hope, who poured out his heart about the visions he'd had -- how terrified he was that the Legion was coming, about the "rivers of blood and cities in ruin" that would result if he wasn't able to somehow, some way, stop this from happening, and about how the only thing sustaining him was the tiny sliver of hope that he might actually succeed. This is a young dragon who foresaw something that absolutely shook him to his core, something he would do anything to try to prevent... and who felt he had almost no support, because it seemed he was the only one taking the threat seriously while everyone around him was busy fighting one another. His fear, his burden, was so great that the Red Crane himself even admitted that Wrathion needed his blessing of Hope "more than any I have ever met".

We can, of course, debate Wrathion's methods. It's fairly obvious that he didn't fully understand the lessons the Celestials were trying to teach him -- at least not at the time. It's also undeniable that he made some pretty terrible mistakes along the way. And I can certainly understand the argument that his attitude in Dragonflight is just too annoying for some people to stomach. But the thing that always brings me back to Wrathion as Aspect is the knowledge that he actually cares about Azeroth. From the moment he was hatched -- even before -- he carried the burden of Earth-Warder, and he took it absolutely seriously. Neltharion took an oath, and he broke it -- broke beneath it, I would argue -- and Wrathion clearly believes that it's his own responsibility to bear the immense, crushing weight that his Aspect father/grandfather, and his entire flight, proved unable to bear. All those black dragons betrayed Azeroth, tried to destroy what they were sworn to protect, and here's Wrathion -- first a whelp and now a drake, all alone, without Neltharion's colossal size, strength, and power, without the support of a dragonflight behind him, without the support and trust of the other flights, without any true home or safe harbor, without the regard of the mortal races that he's trying to protect -- doing his best to fulfill an oath that he personally never actually took, only inherited.

Given that knowledge, I actually think Wrathion has behaved with remarkable restraint in regard to Sabellian's sudden appearance as a rival. Has Sabellian even given us the slightest indication that he actually cares about the sacred charge of the black dragonflight? He's certainly older, wiser, and steadier, and maybe he's done a good job of raising his kin and keeping them safe in Outland... but does he care about Azeroth? Because he certainly hasn't been there when it needed him... and yet he was perfectly willing to risk reappearing just in time to claim the Obsidian Throne.

#wrathion #world of warcraft #the trials themselves are also great #i could write an essay on Deathwing as the personification of Wrathion's fear #And the Red Crane reassuring him that he's not his “father” #the celestials did not dismiss Wrathion #even when he clearly wasn't understanding #they showed patience with him #IMO they understood that their lessons would sink in eventually

[monochrome-night]

I wanna to reintroduce my oc Avrum with some updated lore about him here you go

Name : Avrum

Birthday: May 12th

Height: 6'2"

weight: 200

gender: Male

Position: kaioshin and temporary assistant for Supreme kai of universe 7, animal caretaker

Age: 5 million years old, but a few hundred years younger than shin. (In human years 25-29 years old )

Race: Shinjin ( core person born from the golden fruit)

birthplace: World Core ( Kaishin)

Home: The Sacred World of the Kais ( U7)

Relatives: Daiokaioshin (Father) Shin ( Friend/ Older brother Figure) Kibito (Friend) Elder Kai ( natural, not much to say..)

Mentor:  Elderly Mentor kai from The Academy

When Avrum came into the world,  he was  taken under  nameless elderly kai  as his mentor in the world of kaishin

He needed to be properly trained and his mentor was very kind and caring , especially love animals . Mentor had alot of them ,  i guess there's were Avrum love for animals  came from~

But he was apprentice for decades to few hundred years  his Mentor teaching Avrum  everything they know about the duty being Supreme kai , responsibly, caring and overseeing the universe and its development. Especially hobbies the Mentor love to do.  Caring animals, making medicine, meditation, astrology and picnics and gardening.  Teaching patience and compassion towards life.

Avrum never experience any hardships before he completed his training and  leaving   the world kaishin to shine his wings.

Later, his peers sent Avrum to The Sacred Land of the Kais in Universe 7, as a helper for Shin; for menial tasks and to observe Shin's profession: Watching over the universe and how he handles things, while Avrum takes notes and studies. Avrum dreams to hopefully, one day, watch over his own universe- but, not until he gains enough experience and understanding first.

positive traits: brave, kind , loving , great sense of justice, caring, encouraging, friendly, determined, noble, respectful, humble, cheerful, Gentle Giant

both good and bad mixed middle traits :  being considerate, selflessness, tolerance but his has limits , stubborn, patient, empathy , Faithful , reliable or helpful idk

Negative traits: insecure, shy , introvert, anxiety, low self esteem,  irritable, emotional, in tolerance depends on the situation, semi-envious, vengeful and impulsive only when he's angered, but its rare thing to happen, overall he is very cheerful chill guy.

#kaioshin #supreme kai #dragon ball #the supreme kai #dragon ball art #supreme kai oc #db art #kai #dragonball #dragon ball artwork #my original character #ocs #original characters #Avrum

[jovialmoonprincess]

AU: Journey to Redemption (Part 4)

First Part. / The Winter Ball / Champagne Problems / Frost and Thorns

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader 

Summary: Y/N, a young idealist in Panem, dreams of making a difference in a post-war society. As the winner of the prestigious Plinth Prize is about to be announced, a mysterious woman unveils a grim fate for Coriolanus Snow, Y/N's nemesis. Offered a chance to alter destiny, Y/N must navigate her conflicting emotions and intervene in pivotal moments to prevent Snow's descent into darkness. The story unfolds against the backdrop of complex relationships, past connections, and the challenges of a changing world, as Y/N grapples with the responsibility of shaping an unexpected destiny and challenging the very fabric of fate.

Warning(s): None, enemy to lovers, back in time, destiny, Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, THIS ONE IS SO SHORT SORRY

A/N: I'm on Wattpad now too, click here to read and vote there: WATTPAD

Frost and Thorns

Y/N observed the white rose with meticulous attention. The thorns, now trimmed, led her to contemplate how long it would take for that flower to wither completely. She had just returned to her apartment after the ball, immersed in palpable fear. Everything she had experienced that night seemed like an illusion, a theatrical representation of something she could barely comprehend. Unraveling the mysteries of Snow became a complex and increasingly frightening task.

The fear that enveloped her was not just personal; it was the apprehension of falling into the enchanting webs of young Snow and, thereby, living a life of misfortune in a country on the brink of ruin. Y/N felt the urgent need to document her feelings, a kind of emotional testament. The notebook, once forgotten on the shelf, became her confidant, a repository for her most intimate thoughts.

With the pen touching the paper, Y/N sought not only to understand the complexity of her emotions but also to leave a trail in case something unimaginable happened. Her younger siblings, Orion and Aria, would be the recipients of her words, and she wanted them to know, even in her absence, the events that surrounded her.

The responsibility of teaching her siblings about the treacherous nature of the Hunger Games and the cunning of the Capitol rested on Y/N. Despite their creative souls, Orion and Aria needed to understand the dangerous game society forced them to play. The analogy of the Capitol as a snake, to be handled with caution, was part of the legacy Y/N tried to impart.

Her thoughts turned to her mother, a figure who, after the death of her father, seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. She performed her maternal duties with excellence, cooking, caring, and ensuring the well-being of her children. However, Y/N perceived a spirit once free, now contained, as if her mother were constantly immersed in dark thoughts. The vision of the Capitol seemed obscured by veiled conformity, a resignation to an inescapable reality.

The Academy, with its weekday study routine, represented a necessary escape for Y/N. Weekends were sacred, a time to return home and witness the rapid growth of Orion and Aria, an experience that, for her, was simultaneously beautiful and distressing.

Y/N had never feared her own death, but perhaps this absence of fear destined her for a mission that others would avoid. However, she hoped this mission would not be in vain. Her persistent determination was driven by the need to reunite with the mysterious woman, to understand the dark details that eluded her comprehension. The devastating vision of Snow haunted her, but without the context and order of events, the truth remained elusive.

Who was the girl confined in the visions? Why did Sejanus not emerge in her premonitions, and why did Coryo's gaze seem devoid of life? The need to unravel these key moments became an incessant quest, an infinite puzzle challenging her mind. Was it possible to find the answers before it was too late? Uncertainty hung in the air, and Y/N, immersed in these mysteries, was determined to uncover the hidden truths before time caught up with her.

Several days had passed since the reaping. Y/N, sitting on the couch, absorbed in a book for a few hours, decided to take a break and turn on the television. She soon realized that the first act of the Hunger Games was about to begin. Still reeling from recent events, she felt unfocused, as if she were out of tune with reality. The luxurious apartment, all the comforts provided by the Capitol, now seemed like a tangible reminder of her submission to the system. However, she knew she shouldn't complain, as, in a way, she believed that the State and the Academy had an obligation to provide uniforms, food, and accommodations.

As she watched the screen, she witnessed many people being confined in a cage, with a girl in a colorful dress and a boy in red standing out. As the camera zoomed in, she identified Coriolanus and the girl, the same one seen in her vision, being kissed by Coryo through a cell. The scene clicked, and a wave of understanding hit her, bringing tears to her eyes. If the vision was real, the information about Coriolanus becoming a dictator would also be real. Absorbed in her thoughts, she decided to call Tigris, certain that her friend would share her shock.

"Hello? Tigris?"

"Y/N!! I was about to call you."

"Are you watching the Games?"

"Absolutely. Did you see the reaping? Everyone is talking about it."

"I don't like watching the reaping," Y/N admitted, having given up on following this event years ago. It was not something pleasant to witness.

"Y/N," Tigris seemed a bit cautious, "Coryo's tribute is the girl from District 12, Lucy Gray. She's from a circus family. She put a snake in the mayor's daughter's dress, and after that, he attacked her, but she put on a show. LITERALLY, she started singing and dancing, and now the Capitol can't take their eyes off her."

It was a lot of information to process. Y/N wanted to know more.

"Wow. And how did Coriolanus end up in a cage?"

"I don't know, but yesterday, I encouraged him to get close to her. She must be confused, scared, and angry. It seems like her name was deliberately placed there."

Y/N approached the TV slowly. She noticed the rose behind her ear, the same rose resting on her nightstand. Coryo and Lucy Gray seemed like an odd couple. It would be a funny scene if they weren't in a monkey cage.

"For sure," replied Y/N, ending the conversation. She said goodbye to Tigris and returned to her thoughtful book. Her stomach was churning; fear for Panem's future haunted her, and the sight of Coryo so close to another girl stirred a strange feeling. Holding hands, smiling, it was a strange scene for her, even though she was used to seeing the boy being friendly with everyone. Something about Lucy Gray made her feel a flutter in her stomach. Her disposition, beauty, irreverence, friendliness, courage, and the ability to capture young Snow's attention.

A week later, Y/N found Sejanus in the academy corridor and sat beside him.

"How's the mentoring going?" she asked, her interest genuine, knowing that mentoring for the Hunger Games was not something Sejanus embraced with enthusiasm.

"Not very well."

"Why?" she inquired, aware that there was more behind Sejanus's downcast expression.

"Marcus... he was my classmate before I came here. We weren't exactly friends, but we weren't enemies either. One day, I caught my finger in the door, and he grabbed snow from the window sill to try to reduce the swelling. He didn't even ask the teacher; he just went and did it. And now I'm his mentor. And he's going to win. Anyone would be happy with him."

Y/N was speechless in the face of the emotional burden Sejanus shared. Acting on instinct, she hugged him, seeking to offer some comfort in the face of the distress they shared. Two minutes passed, and the hug seemed to alleviate some of the tension in Sejanus.

"Sejanus, we need to end the Games. We need to free Panem," Y/N whispered, paranoid that someone might overhear. "All of this is madness."

"I know. What are we doing? Putting children in an arena to kill each other? It's wrong in so many ways. Animals protect the young of their species, don't they? We do too. We try to protect the children! It's part of us as human beings. Who really wants to do this? It's not natural!" Sejanus vented, and for the first time in a month, Y/N felt the urge to just listen. Normally, it was she who freaked out about this. She felt lighter. "It's cruelty. It goes against everything I believe is right in the world. I can't be part of this."

"Don't do anything you might regret later, Sejanus. We're few against many. We need a plan, something smart. We have to think calmly. Don't be impulsive. Don't put yourself in danger. The Capitol is treacherous." Y/N spoke as if she were uttering a small prayer for Sejanus to absorb every word. It was advice she repeated to herself as a motto.

"Y/N..." Sejanus began. There was no time to finish the sentence because Coriolanus interrupted the conversation.

"Satyria is waiting for us for the seminar, Sejanus," said a stern Snow, noticing the proximity between Sejanus and Y/N. "Hurry up." Coryo didn't even look into Y/N's eyes. He seemed resentful.

The tension in the air revealed the complicated dynamic between the three. The unspoken words echoed through the academy corridors, and Y/N knew that, in the face of uncertainties and imminent dangers, her decisions would shape the fate of Panem.

"JERK." Y/N was furious about how the boy had treated her earlier. "Snow always falls on top of everything. Maybe it's time for him to fall, stumble, and hit his face on the ground to learn not to be so arrogant." Y/N murmured to herself, lying on her bed, replaying the morning scene.

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Hi guys, I'm finally on vacation from college. I will be able to update here more frequently. I will post the next chapter when we reach 60 likes on the fic. And also thanks for the votes <3 I KNOW THIS ONE IS SHORT SORRY I will compensate in the next with a lot of FLUFF.

Taglist: @shari-berri@h-l-vlovesvintage@tea-bobba@daenerysqueenofhearts @commanderfreethatdust @glxzillx

TAGLIST AND REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!!

#the hunger games #tbosas #angst #angst with a happy ending #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #enemy to lovers #fem reader #president snow #tom blyth #coryo snow #lucy gray baird #tbosbas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #josh andres rivera #snow #tigris snow