#slave seeking owners

[slavebitchsissy]

If you are a sadistic girl who want to humiliate me then you found u new slave. I try to do everything. I will send videos and pictures. Do everything what pleasures you !!

Im a cute good boy and I will fulfilling all your wishes.

I really just look for somebody who gets pleasure through my punishment, humiliation and everything else ..

#slave seeking owners #blackmail me #bdsmslut #submisive sissy #nolimits #exposed and humiliated #exposed faggot #hot as fuck

[alwaysbewoke]

Thomas Jennings was a free man born in 1791 in New York City. He was 30 years old when he was granted a patent for a dry cleaning process. In his early 20s Thomas Jennings became a tailor, and later opened a dry cleaning business in the city. As a tailor. Jennings' skills were so admired that people near and far came to him to alter or custom tailor items of clothing for them. Eventually, Jennings reputation grew such that he was able to open his own store on Church street which grew into one of the largest clothing stores in New York City. While running his business Jennings developed dry-scouring. He had many customers complain of their clothes being ruined by stains and so he began experimenting with cleaners and mixtures that would remove the stains without harming the material. He earned a large amount of money as a tailor and even more with his dry scouring invention and most of the money he earned went to his abolitionist activities. In 1831, Thomas Jennings became assistant secretary for the First Annual Convention of the People of Color in Philadelphia, PA. Thomas L. Jennings Dry Scouring technique created modern day dry cleaning. Jennings was fortunate that he was a free man at the time of his invention. Besides all the other indignities and cruelties slaves had to face, they were also ineligible to hold a patent. Under the US patent laws of 1793 a person must sign an oath or declaration stating that they were a citizen of the USA. While there were, apparently, provisions through which a slave could enjoy patent protection, the ability of a slave to seek out, receive and defend a patent was unlikely. Later, in 1858, the patent office changed the laws, stating that since slaves were not citizens, they could not hold a patent. Furthermore, the court said that the slave owner, not being the true inventor could not apply for a patent either. Thomas Jennings died in New York City in 1856.

#black history #Thomas Jennings #dry cleaning #inventor #tailor #abolitionist #New York City #patent law #slavery #abolitionist activities #dry scouring technique #historical injustice #patent discrimination #civil rights activism #African American entrepreneurship #19th century America

[moronkombat]

Havik, Shao, Rain, Raiko, and Quanshi love at first sight with an earthrealmer?

It's just an ordinary day for Rain. Nothing special about it, nothing horrible about it either. Simply another day to pass his long lifespan. He's very much so absorbed in his studies of the arcane, intolerant for other distractions. That is until he comes across you. There's a rather quick glance as you walk by, thinking you to be a mere distraction. That all changes when his second glance to you lingers. Rain would stare quietly with his mouth agape. He watches you strut by wordless and without even noticing him. Eyes watch you until you have gone out of sight and Rain can feel the thunderous pitter patter in his chest. Perhaps his studies can end early today

General Shao has never really preoccupied himself with thoughts of relationships and love. There are are more pressing matters to concern himself with. Then he sees someone new, someone small. Much smaller than he is and Shao finds himself pausing. There is something so tempting about them and he cannot help but keep his gaze trailed to you. You are feeble and fragile...It'd be so easy to break you but never would Shao dream of doing that. No, he feels this urge to cherish you, protect you. Yes, this what he wants and if to do so then he must know your name. He will make sure to seek you out later, away from other prying eyes

It is when Reiko is training troops that he notices you. He is a tough and strict commander but he needed to be if his underlings were to survive. His arms would cross and a smirk is written on him while he watches the ensuing training. It is by chance that he glances your way but when he sees you, pale eyes widen. There you are, strong yet regal, taking down your sparring opponent with exceeding grace and vigor. His smirk widens and he continues to watch you move like a banshee while you continue to strike down your opponents. You are magnificent as you cut them down, strike them and Reiko's heart is pounding like the drums of war. He will be sure to compliment on your abilities before immediately wanting to take you under his wing which is a shock to all the other trainees

Quan Chi's life is mundane and full of hardship. He slaves away in the mines, sweat drenching his brow. There must be more to life than this, surely? Thoughts of such things are cutoff when, during his break, he catches a glimpse of you. You are beautiful, stunning and someone who is so pure. You don't belong here, far too grand for it and yet here you are. Perhaps related to the owner? He isn't sure but he wants to know more about you but how can he? You are from a different life than he is and yet he simply cannot stop thinking about

When Havik's eyes find you for that dreadful first time, he is consumed by your very existence. He feels a rise in his chest, something tingling. Thoughts twist and turn together into a mess of obsessions. Something wicked comes over him as he watches you from a distance and it is unfortunate that his gaze has caught you because now they will never let go. Oh how he looks to you from afar, a place you cannot see him. Havik thinks all he wants from you, all that he can take. You are perfect, you are art and Havik will have you. First he must find out more and more about you, he needs everything, all of it. Then, when that sweet time arrives, he will come to you in the night and devour all that he is enthralled with

i cant help but make Havik's creepy, sorry yall

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #mk rain #mk shao kahn #general shao #shao kahn x reader #rain x reader #reiko #mk reiko #reiko x reader #quan chi x reader #quan chi #mk havik #havik #havik x reader

[chiqelatasblog]

In the Middle of the Night🌙

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Part Two is here.

Pairings : Bi-Han/ Sub-Zero x You, Kuai Liang/ Scorpion x You, Tomas Vrbada/ Smoke x You

Tropes : Slavery, Past Sexual Abuse, Canon-Typical Violance, Emotional Hurt Comfort, Strangers to Lovers, True Love, Foursome, F/M/M/M, Dark Magic, Eventual Smut

Summary : After a mission gone wrong, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas find themselves sealed inside a book as love slaves. Whoever discovers the book and utters the incantations within will not only become its owner but also the master of the Lin Kuei’s three deadliest assassins.

For you, grappling with the weight of a solitary life and enduring a particularly rough day, stumbling upon this mysterious book was an unforeseen twist. As you bring the book home, unaware of its contents or the events that led to its creation, the ensuing chain of events will shatter the tranquility of your world, forever altering the course of your life.

Title and work inspired by the “Elley Duhe-Middle Of The Night” song

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CHAPTER ONE : (READER)

You were enduring one of the worst days of your life.

Your alarm didn’t sound in the morning because you were too fatigued to remember to charge your phone the night before. With its poor battery life, it ran out quickly. Living forty-five minutes away from the city center, you should have caught the subway at least an hour ago to make it to work on time. Despite the pressing need for money, uncertainty loomed as you grappled with the inevitability of firing. The job, despite its dreadful conditions and an insufferable boss, stood as your best opportunity in months - too valuable to risk losing.

Although you had graduated from college with a commendable degree, the job market proved bleaker than anticipated. Your once-bright dreams faded as the harsh reality of post-graduation life set in. Most desirable positions demanded experience, yet securing experience required entry into these very positions. While a diploma opened a few doors, the conditions were often as harsh as modern-day servitude, albeit with insurance and a predictable late salary.

Your current role as a programmer at a gaming company offered no respite. Long hours in front of the screen left your eyes bloodshot, encircled by dark rings, and your neck perpetually aching. Despite the hardships, a promise to your distant family fueled your determination to stand on your own. Abandoning everything and returning home was not an option after coming this far. You had shed too many tears to surrender now, enduring the suffocating loneliness of solitary dinners in your cramped kitchen as you pursued your dreams.

Thus, with a reminder of your purpose, you hurriedly left your apartment. Despite the packed subway and the frenzied rush, you managed to trim your commute from fifteen minutes to a mere seven and a half. Yet, upon arrival, your efforts were futile. Summoned to your boss’s office, you were promptly instructed to collect your belongings and leave the company, denied even the opportunity to provide an explanation.

You were keenly aware of the disdain your boss and coworkers held for you; it was an open secret. They resembled vultures, poised to oust you at any moment. As the lone rookie, you were perceived as nothing more than a liability. Despite your efforts to avoid seeking their assistance by tackling most tasks independently, being in your first year of the profession meant there were occasions when you needed guidance or support. Yet, camaraderie was a foreign concept in this office. Compared to other workplaces, the only semblance of unity stemmed from shared breaks and lunches.

A part of you felt relief at the prospect of bidding farewell to a workplace where you found no joy. However, the dominant part, fueled by anxiety, fretted over how you would cover rent and expenses. Although you had a modest emergency fund tucked away, it would only sustain you for about a month. Urgency gnawed at you as you roamed the streets with a cardboard box containing your few office belongings, scouring for job advertisements. Picky was a luxury you couldn’t afford; you were prepared to take on any role, even as a barista or waitress, until you secured a position closer to your aspirations. Survival necessitated prioritizing money above all else.

As the day wore on, you lost track of time. With the setting sun casting a dim glow and street lamps flickering to life, tiny raindrops began to graze your cheeks and nose, soon escalating into a downpour. Despite the onslaught, you mustered the strength to suppress the curses threatening to spill forth. Rushing back to the subway, you braved the rain without an umbrella or proper clothes, mindful of the looming threat of illness. With no funds to spare for hospital bills or medication, resuming your job hunt from the shelter of your laptop seemed the safer option.

Arriving at the subway, drenched from head to toe, you collapsed onto the nearest available seat, your legs barely able to support you. With a heavy sigh, you closed your eyes, feeling the weight of the day’s exhaustion bearing down on your body. The simple act of sitting down was a luxury, a stark reminder of just how fatigued and stressed you had become over the course of the day. You rubbed your weary legs in an attempt to generate some warmth, soothing the cramps and chasing away the chill brought on by the rain.

As the subway doors slid open with a ding, a wave of commuters flooded in, filling the once-empty seats around you. Seizing the opportunity to rest your eyes until reaching home, you leaned back against the seat with the cardboard box resting on your lap. Tired, cold, and hungry, the numbing effect of the rain provided a brief respite from the stress, deserving of a well-earned nap.

When the ache in your neck became unbearable, you reluctantly opened your eyes, realizing that your stop was approaching. Glancing down, you noticed a book lying on the seat beside you, as your grip on the box was dangerously close to slipping from your grasp. Picking it up, you scanned the faces around you, expecting someone to claim the book or acknowledge its presence, but no one seemed to react. Confirmation dawned upon you, the book had been left behind, seemingly forgotten by its owner.

Although the book appeared hefty, its weathered cover hinted at years of use and handling. Despite its age, it felt surprisingly light in your hands, its once vibrant hues faded to muted tones. Adorned with a pale gold cover devoid of any text on the back, the book bore the scars of countless readings and journeys. Turning the book over to avoid catching your tired reflection on its worn and shiny surface, your lips parted in mild surprise. Three striking male figures graced the cover, their details rendered with such realism that they almost seemed tangible, despite the signs of wear and tear. Your finger traced over the hyper-realistic features with impulsive curiosity, only to retract abruptly as if scalded, suddenly aware of your surroundings.

As a sweet ache pulsed between your thighs, you found yourself unexpectedly aroused by a mere image, prompting you to shift uncomfortably in an attempt to quell the throbbing sensation. It had been quite a while since you last shared intimate moments with someone, but even that didn’t entirely account for the sudden surge of desire sparked by a simple picture. Stirring memories long buried within you, igniting a hunger you hadn't realized existed until now.

A blush warmed your cheeks as you examined the figures once more. The trio bore the semblance of warriors or assassins, albeit clad in scant attire. The man on the left possessed a sun-kissed tan, his muscular frame adorned with a large scorpion tattoo on his left arm. His black hair was artfully swept across his face, his golden mask veiling a stern gaze as he brandished a flaming kunai, its rope end poised for action.

Your attention shifted to the figure at the center, whose face remained partially obscured by a silvery black mask. Despite the concealment, a strange sense of familiarity emanated from his features, mirroring those of his companion. His complexion was pale, revealing blue-green veins beneath the surface, while his dark eyes emanated cold, dominating arrogance. Black hair, tied in a low bun with a few tufts escaping to frame his strong features. Massive biceps framed his imposing stature as he wielded a sword of ice, poised to strike with lethal precision.

In stark contrast, the figure on the right differed greatly from his counterparts. Towering slightly above them, he bore little resemblance to an Asian individual, exuding a distinctly European air. His skin was also light, and he wore a grey-colored mask covering half of his face. A thin, light grey smoke emanated from his body. His short gray hair and softer gray-blue eyes lent him a gentler appearance, juxtaposed by the lethal aura exuded by the carambite adorning his finger. Despite his softer features, his lethal prowess was undeniable.

As you scrutinized the cover, a perplexing question lingered: why would the illustrator depict warriors in such a manner if not for a romantic context? Their barely dressed and provocative poses hinted at a fantasy narrative, reinforced only by the presence of their weapons. Without them, the figures might have appeared more akin to love slaves than skilled warriors. “An intriguing choice,” you murmured to yourself, pondering the illustrator’s intentions behind such a depiction.

As you opened the book to look at the chipped pages, curiosity piqued about the contents within, you suddenly realized that your stop had arrived. Hastily tucking the book into your box, you sprang to your feet with a muttered exclamation.

“Oh, shoot!” With a swift maneuver, you barely managed to slip through the closing doors of the crowded subway. Amidst the post-work rush, the mingled scents of sweat and cigarettes engulfed you as you navigated through the throng. Minutes later, emerging from the subway, you drew a deep breath, filling your lungs with the scent of rain-soaked earth.

Your journey to home passed in a blur, your body moving on autopilot along familiar streets and corners. Before you knew it, you stood before your fifth-floor apartment, a small abode consisting of two rooms and an American kitchen. Its most prized feature was the balcony, a sanctuary where you relished summer evenings, savoring the view with a glass of wine by candlelight.

When you arrived home, it was already nine o’clock in the evening. Leaving the box in your hand at the entrance of the door, you went straight into the shower to wash away the fatigue and grime of the day, and to replenish the warmth your drenched body had lost. You lingered under the hot water until it thoroughly enveloped your body, and finally, when the steam filled the small bathroom and you felt like you might faint from the heat, you emerged, clad in your well-worn and hardened bathrobe, with a towel wrapped around your head.

Pouring the last remnants of the red wine you opened days ago into a glass, you placed it in the microwave to heat up the leftover Chinese food you ordered a day ago. As you waited for your meal to warm, your gaze wandered to the box in the corner, reigniting your curiosity about the mysterious book. Crossing the room in a few strides, you retrieved the book and placed it on the kitchen island, settling into your chair with wine and warmed food. “I’ll worry about unemployment later,” you declared, raising your glass in a toast. “Today was stressful enough, and I definitely deserve this wine.” With a sip of wine and a mouthful of noodles, you flipped open the book’s cover with your free hand, eager to have a look at what it held.

‘’What…?” You stared at the glossy golden pages, brows furrowed in confusion, surprised to find them empty. “What kind of book is this? I don’t understand the purpose.” you muttered in disbelief. The worn-out appearance of the book added to your confusion, making you question whether something had happened before it was finished.

As you reached the middle of the book, a shocking revelation left you speechless. Lines, equivalent to about a paragraph, materialized on the previously blank pages before your eyes, causing your entire body to freeze in shock. Tremors coursed through you, as if jolted by electricity, and you grasped desperately for reality, unsure if what you were witnessing was a dream. Gasping for breath, you struggled to comprehend the surreal sight before you.

“I haven’t even had that much wine—I just took a sip.” you mumbled, your voice strained with the effort to contain your rising panic. “I’ve seen enough movies to know where this is going. I’m not reading whatever’s written here,” you declared, the thin timbre of your voice betraying your attempt to stifle a scream.

You closed the cover of the book hard and attempted to get up from your chair, but found yourself unable to move. It was as if an unseen force held you in place. The cover of the book opened again, and as the pages flickered before your eyes, the one you had just turned to was laid out in front of you once more, sending shivers of fear down your spine.

“Read it,” a demanding male voice echoed in your mind, freezing you in terror. Despite your frantic desire to flee, you remained immobilized, unable to move a muscle.

“I-I was just curious about what it says. I didn’t mean any harm,” you pleaded weakly, few tears streaming down your cheeks due to the immense fear you felt at the moment. Another voice, speaking in a foreign tongue filled the air, his tone scolding but directed elsewhere, not at you.

“We won’t harm you, master,” another voice reassured, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the fear.

“Say the words aloud, and we will serve you,” urged yet another voice, prompting a realization of the three distinct voices corresponding to the figures depicted on the book’s cover.

“W-What the…! Are they…”

“Yes, that’s us you see on the cover. We’ve been trapped in this book for a long time. You have to say the words to get us out of here,” one of the voices explained.

“You’re talking as if I had a choice,” you replied in a timid, low voice.

“Read the words, woman,” another voice commanded. It was the coldest and harshest of them all. Despite lacking a physical form, his dominant aura was unmistakable in the way he emphasized his words. His voice resonated with a deep, chilling tone, unlike anything you had ever heard before. You attempted to steady yourself, swallowing hard and clenching your trembling hands into fists on your legs.

“How do I know you won’t hurt me? Each of you had a weapon on the cover; it’s clear you’re some kind of warriors.”

“We are bound to the master of the book,” another voice interjected, his tone notably more welcoming and kind than the others. “We cannot harm you.”

“God, I must be losing my mind. I’m talking to a book,” you muttered, glancing at the pages with audible trepidation. Fear and panic constricted your throat, rendering you speechless.

“This is no illusion—it is the truth,” the same younger voice asserted after a brief silence. “Read what is written, master, and we shall pledge our service to you.”

“I-I’m not anyone’s master. Don’t call me that; this situation is already too surreal for me,” you protested weakly.

“As you wish, master,” came the compliant response.

“You won’t hurt me, will you? I’m too young to die; I haven’t even begun to fulfill my dreams…” you pleaded, your words abruptly cut off by a snarl. If not for the invisible force holding you down, you might have leaped in fear.

“Read these damn sentences!” the voice commanded, his tone harsh.

“Bi-Han, don’t frighten her!” another voice intervened.

“Fine, fine, I’ll read it!” Tears continued to trickle down your cheeks as you began to recite the words aloud, hoping to end the ordeal. And as you prayed to the god or whatever deity might be watching over you, you couldn’t shake the dread that you might be leading yourself to your own demise. “Rise, my servants, from the depths of slumber and bind yourselves to me with your souls, revealing your names. Embrace your new purpose ensnared by passion.’’

As you finished speaking, a powerful gust of wind whipped through the room, causing the towel around your shoulders to unravel and fall. Soon after, you heard the voices of three men speaking in unison, their words echoing loudly.

‘’We rise, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas of the Lin Kuei, bound to your will, for in your presence, we find solace and purpose. We protect and we please, however you see right, however you seem fit. We’re your slaves, and you’re our master, surrendered to your every command, body and soul.’’

With a surge of energy, the wind intensified, knocking over the glass on the counter, spilling wine onto the robe and floor. The glass shattered at your feet, scattering shards across the kitchen. A brilliant light emanated from the book, forcing you to shut your eyes against its intensity.

Then, as suddenly as it began, everything fell silent and still. The wind vanished as if it had never been, and the light that had filled the room dimmed into darkness. Summoning the courage to open your eyes, you were met with the sight of three imposing, completely naked men standing a short distance away.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” You attempted to gather your thoughts, tearing your gaze away from the men to focus on the scattered glass on the kitchen floor. “There are three naked men in my living room. And—and they emerged from the book? I must be losing my mind. I really must be losing my mind.”

As the words tumbled from your lips, sounding like utter madness to your own ears, you tried to take deep breaths to calm yourself. But when you attempted to rise from your seat, your numbed feet betrayed you, causing you to stumble and fall to the ground. The impact sent a jolt of pain through your knees and feet as shards of glass embedded themselves into your flesh, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Shh, it’s okay. Calm down, you’re only hurting yourself,” came a gentle voice.

Your gaze was drawn to a towering, bronzed figure looming over you, his powerful physique making you feel small and vulnerable. Sensing your escalating panic, he gently cupped your face in his large hands, the touch of his calloused fingers both rough and tender. With each contact, warmth spread through your body in soothing waves.

“Look at me. Take deep breaths and exhale, just like I do,” he instructed in a soothing tone.

“I can’t,” your voice broken with fear.

“Of course you can. Follow my lead, I’ll show you,” he reassured. As you turned your gaze to his face, you were met with a pair of slanted light brown eyes, framed by long black eyelashes. His gaze exuded warmth and understanding, matching the sensitivity of his touch. “Breathe with me. Now.”

As your brain somehow focused on his instructions, you found yourself synchronizing your breaths with the mighty man before you. With each inhale and exhale, you felt a wave of calm wash over you, dissipating the last shreds of your strength. He effortlessly supported you, preventing you from collapsing to the floor, his touch gentle yet firm. Despite the pain throbbing in your flesh and the warmth of blood trickling down your skin, you remained in a state of confusion and fear, unable to muster the will to move from his grasp.

“Tomas, find something to clean the wound,” commanded the one with the authoritative voice, resonating with incredible depth. The man who held you gently lowered himself onto one of the double seats in the living room, maintaining his firm grasp on you. A faint warmth spread across your face, but you remained ensnared in his hold, feeling as if your mouth were filled with dry cotton.

Your gaze shifted to the man cradling you, his expression clouded with concern as his amber eyes scrutinized you closely as if he feared you might suffer another attack. Despite his gray hair, you were taken aback when a youthful visage suddenly filled your vision. The man was tall and imposing, his large build casting a formidable shadow over you. Feeling intimidated between these two towering figures, a timid whimper escaped your lips as your body instinctively recoiled, yearning to escape despite its weakened state.

“Calm down, master. We won’t hurt you. Let me tend to your wounds; you’ve cut your knees and feet badly. I can ease your pain,” reassured the silver-haired man, his voice carrying a surprisingly gentle tone given his imposing stature. As you swallowed and tried to shift again, a cold sound from across the room froze you in place.

“If you move again, I’ll—” began the menacing voice.

“Bi-Han, enough! She’s already frightened, no need to add to it.” Intervened the man holding you, his voice commanding authority. Though Bi-Han’s threat remained unfinished, its effect lingered, rendering you motionless, afraid to even breathe. As the silver-haired man tended to your wounds while taking advantage of your stillness, the man holding you attempted to comfort you with gentle pats, drawing soothing circles on your back.

Gritting your teeth against the pain as the glass shards were removed, you fought the urge to appear weak and helpless in their eyes. Though you couldn’t see yourself from their perspective, a sense of self-consciousness gnawed at you. In an attempt to shift your focus from the pain, the man holding you soflty interjected, “I am Kuai Liang,” he introduced. “May we know your name?

Struggling to articulate your name through clenched teeth, you managed to utter it in one breath. A faint smile graced Kuai Liang’s face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, (y/n).”

“Speak for yourself,” growled Bi-Han from across the living room. “Just another fucking master we’re bound to serve.’’

‘‘I thought you wanted to get out of the book.’’

Kuai Liang’s sharp retort silenced Bi-Han, prompting Tomas, who was tending to your wounds, to interject. “And so am I, Tomas. Thank you for calling us into your service.” he said with a small smile that seemed forced, his dull greyish blue eyes lacking genuine emotion. As he carefully tended to your wounds and wrapped them in bandages, a sense of unease washed over you, causing you to squirm away from Kuai Liang’s grasp and retreat to the corner of the seat, eyeing the three men with a mix of confusion and discomfort.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” you croaked, avoiding their look as your gaze involuntarily dropped to their lower parts for a second before you could prevent it, your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “And please cover up your bottoms. You can use the cushions.”

Complying with your request, all three men concealed their private parts with cushions. Tomas took a seat in the opposite double seat, while Bi-Han settled into the single seat. Despite your small apartment being already cramped, the presence of the three burly men made the space feel even more claustrophobic.

“Where would you like us to start?”

“From the beginning,” you replied, addressing Kuai Liang. “Who are you? How did you end up in that book? And why are you here now… Please, tell me everything from the beginning so that I can understand.”

“We are members of a clan called Lin Kuei, known for training assassins, and we are brothers,” he began. “Bi-Han is the eldest, serving as the grandmaster of our clan in the past. I, on the other hand, am the middle one, and Tomas and I served as his second-in-commands.’’

The revelation that they were assassins drained the color from your face, confirming your suspicions from the book cover. A shiver ran down your spine as you realized the chilling reality of being in the presence of trained killers.

“Many years ago, we encountered a demon named Quan Chi on a mission. As you can imagine, the mission went awry, and he sealed us inside this book. Whoever owns the book and says the words becomes our master, and we are compelled to fulfill their wishes and desires.”

Even if you sensed that the information was being presented with some omissions, you refrained from voicing your suspicions. They were strangers to you, and you to them, so expecting complete transparency without trust seemed unreasonable. While you had the authority as their master to demand the truth, approaching the situation in this manner didn’t sit well with you—it didn’t feel right, nor did it feel humane.

For God’s sake, the idea of being anyone’s master was abhorrent. The twenty-first century had arrived, and the notion of a master-slave relationship had long since vanished. It felt nauseating and profoundly unsettling.

“I am not your master. I can’t—I can’t be. No.” You attempted to stand up in panic, desperate to escape the situation, but your injuries held you back. Kuai Liang gently grabbed your arm, urging you to calm down.

“Calm down (y/n), your wounds are very fresh. You’ll make them bleed again.” You clung to his wrist, pleading with your eyes for assistance.

“Is there no way to set you free? I can’t accept this. This is—this is against humanity!”

With your words, a deep silence enveloped the room. As you observed their stunned reactions, it became evident that this sentiment was new to them. Your heart ached at the thought of witnessing these powerful men stripped of their freedom. Despite your fear, the realization knotted your stomach. They appeared intimidating and deadly, yet the severity of their situation suggested that past experiences had shattered them and stripped away their dignity. You couldn’t fathom how long they had endured as slaves within the confines of the book, but the outcome seemed all too predictable, casting a somber shadow over the room.

“Set us free?” Tomas’s voice echoed with longing, his desire palpable.

“Such a thing is possible, isn’t it? If you tell me what I should do I—”

“Why would you do that? What do you want from us in return?” Bi-Han’s voice sliced through your words, sharp and menacing. You fought to maintain your composure, avoiding freezing in your spot as his icy demeanor chilled the room. As your agitated gaze shifted to his pale, muscular arms, you were astonished to see a thin layer of ice extending from his hands. Were they truly made of ice?

“As I said just now, I can’t be anyone’s master, it’s in defiance of human ethics. If there’s any way I can help you, I’d like to do it. I don’t want anything in return except for this situation to end as soon as possible, I’m sure you want the same.”

“Do you expect us to believe that you are just a fairy godmother?” Bi-Han’s mocking half smile sent waves of unease through you. “You are not convincing at all, woman. Favors are done with an expectation of something in return.’’

“Favors are done for nothing; you don’t expect anything in return. That’s why it’s called a favor.” Emboldened by a hint of defiance, you met Bi-Han’s stern gaze head-on. “I can understand why you don’t trust me after what you’ve been through—”

‘’Don’t you dare,” Bi-Han shot up from his seat, his movement swift as a shadow. Suddenly, he was close enough for his breath, cold as winter air, to brush against your face. “Don’t try to empathize with what we went through. Do you think you know us now just because you’ve learned a few things?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” you said quickly.

“Brother, please sit down. If you talk like that, we won’t get anywhere.” Kuai Liang intervened, putting one arm between you and Bi-Han. Bi-Han glared at you intensely, his eyes slanted like those of a predator, then he took a deep breath. Watching the mist of his cold breath in the air, everything still felt like an endless dream—or nightmare. When he finally returned to his seat, Kuai Liang’s gaze turned to you.

“Thank you for offering to help, but unfortunately, we don’t know how to undo this dark magic.”

You ventured a suggestion that you hoped wouldn’t sound foolish. “We could try burning the book. I’ve seen it work in some movies.”

“We’ve tried that,” Tomas chimed in, joining Kuai Liang. “Several times. Whatever we’ve done, the book has never been destroyed. It’s protected by some kind of magic, just as it protects its master from us.”

“You spoke as if you had tested the last part before.”

In response, silence enveloped the room. Despite your efforts to stave off panic, the realization that they were assassins and the precariousness of your situation made you feel threatened.

“We have tried to kill several masters before,” Kuai Liang admitted frankly. “But there’s some kind of seal that protects them—you can think of it as a shield. It renders any attack ineffective. That’s why we were telling the truth when we said we wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Of course, if things were different, it wouldn’t mean you wouldn’t try,” you said, averting your gaze and clasping your hands in your lap. Another solution came to mind, prompting you to straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath before continuing.

‘’ If I can’t set you free, then you’re free to do as you please, go where you want. You don’t have to be stuck here.” you offered.

“You won’t give us orders? Isn’t there something you want us to do?” Tomas asked, surprised.

“No, as long as you don’t start killing people, you’re free to do whatever you want.”

“We’re not mindless killers,” said Bi-Han harshly, sounding offended that you would even think of them in that way. Kuai Liang interjected, softening his brother’s tone.

“We serve a noble purpose. We were, until we were sealed in the book… Our clan has been dedicated to protecting Earthrealm from dangers for centuries,” he explained, his gaze softening slightly as he made eye contact with you. “Thank you for the opportunity you’ve given us, but we can’t be away from you for more than a few hours. We have to get back here, to you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How so? Why? Do I have to say something else?”

“No, it’s part of the magic. It was designed to prevent us from escaping. When we’re away from our master—you, and this period becomes longer, we become weaker and weaker.”

“So at the end of the day… God, what cruel magic this is,” Gulping, you scanned all three men with a heavy heart. It must have been torture for them to endure this existence. Even as you spoke, your heart ached with empathy, imagining what they had been subjected to. Anger and sadness gripped your body as you contemplated their plight. “Is there anything else I can do for you? My house isn’t too big, but I want you to be comfortable during your stay here.”

It was Bi-Han who responded, his narrowed gaze resembling two thin lines, as if he were dissecting your sincerity. You couldn’t help but feel a pang as you tried to discern whether he believed you. While you understood his skepticism, winning their trust seemed like a daunting task.

“You can start by finding us clothes.”

#bi han x you #kuai liang x you #tomas x you #bi han x y/n #bi han x reader #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang x y/n #tomas x reader #mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mk1 bi han #bi han sub zero #bi han #bi han mk #bi han mortal kombat #mk x reader #mk1 kuai liang #mk kuai liang #mk tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada #smoke mk1 #smoke mortal kombat #mk smoke #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #ao3fic #ao3 writer #reader insert #reader input

[brigidfromthecelts]

Healing Hands (Law X FemReader)

Summary: You were somewhat of a slave on your previous crew - if you could call them that - and now that you are with the Heart Pirates, you don't really want to bother anyone.

Until you ask your captain to remove that awful Jolly Roger tattoo that covers very intimate places that he now has to touch.

Notes: For MATURE readers only! Implied/referenced abuse - Mild Sexual Content

This is very likely a one time thing. I was just trying to do a character study on Law and it escalated! Also, this is quite raw, compared to my usual works. I did not want to waste too much time on this since it was mostly writen on a whim!

Ps: English is not my first language so I apologise in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes.

Word count: 3650

Link for A03 if you rather read there.

The first time it happened it was very light. Just a deep pressure behind your eyes, a throbbing of sorts that came and went. It was bearable, for a while, then it became bothersome so you thought that some medicine might help and stopped by the sick bay. 

Luckily, the captain was nowhere in sight, and you could go by your business unannounced. You did not want to upset your captain! You had barely exchanged two full sentences with him since you joined the Heart Pirates, and to say that he intimidated you was not enough. 

So you took some headache pills from the shelf and went on your way. 

Only two days had passed when it happened the second time and this time the pain was sharper and it came with nausea and a sensitivity to bright light and loud noises. Grunting you made your way to the sick bay again and popped an extra pill, just to be sure it would pass. Thank God the captain was away again. 

The third time happened the morning after and it felt like dying, surely. Your skull was being split into two by an invisible axe and you could barely get out of bed. You went into the bathroom to empty your stomach on the toilet but it was already empty so you were dry heaving for about ten minutes, large tears staining your puffed up red cheeks. 

And the pain did not relent. 

You knew why this was happening, really. You had been deprived of using your devil fruit powers for such a long time by those cursed sea prism cuffs that, now that you were free to use them, your body was resenting the newfound freedom. 

Maybe this time you should go to your captain. This could be beyond your expertise. 

You got up on wobbly steps and exited your room. The Polar Tang was bustling with activity, with everyone already on their posts and working hard. Everyone but you. As you were approaching Law’s quarters, you heard him yell and berate someone over - it seemed, since there was no response - the Den Den Mushi. He seemed pretty mad. 

So you backed away. 

You could do this on your own. All these angry words were making your skin crawl and you could feel your jaw clenching which, in turn, just made your head hurt more and more. You could not help this natural reaction that your body had when presented with stressful situations. 

The captain of your former crew -... Wait, could you even call them crew if all they did was kidnap you, place cuffs on you, force you to being with them and abuse you every day? You shouldn't, really. But it was ingrained deep into you that he was your owner and captain . And you should obey him. Anyway, he always yelled. So much yelling. 

So your natural reaction to it was to escape. Which you did, even if your head was throbbing and you could barely see where you were going. 

You bumped into something - someone - soft and almost fell down on your butt. Hastily apologising to Bepo, who helped steady you, since you could barely stand on your own legs, you looked into his eyes and implored.

“Don't tell the captain, Bepo, please!"

And then you ran away again, seeking refuge in the med bay and thinking about downing the entire bottle of headache pills, wondering how many could the human body sustain before shutting down. 

Taking deep calming breaths, you sat on the infirmary bed. Just to get it together since the world was spinning around you and you did not know what to do to stop it. 

There was your friend, nausea, making an appearance as well. 

So you groaned and laid back. Just a minute. Just until everything stopped hurting. 

Then it hit you. You could just use a bit of your powers. Maybe it would help. Oh, for sure it would help. Why didn't you think of it earlier? 

Raising your right hand in the air and lowering your index finger made all the sounds stop. You sighed. The outer world had stopped existing and it was bliss for a second. 

Then you lowered your ring finger because everything was still so very bright, even without your eyes open, so taking away your sight would make that stop hurting. Surely. 

And it did. For a moment.

Next was the smell because the nausea was attacking you again and the smell of alcohol in this room was overwhelming. So you lowered your middle finger and the nausea subsided a bit. 

You thanked whatever deity had helped you find the right fruit, because being able to just shut down your senses was definitely a bliss. 

But the incessant throbbing was still there. Maybe you should turn off your sense of touch as well. Would it help? 

You were about to lower your pinky when you felt a very strong hand enveloping your own and you gasped, though no sound reached your ears. Opening your eyes, you were momentarily confused because you couldn't see anything, until your pained and tired brain clicked and you let go of the hold you had in your senses by relaxing your hand. 

And all at once, sound, smell and vision came to you and you were overwhelmed by your captain. His staring was cool and hard and he was berating you with angry words. He smelled of soap and antiseptic and it was all too much. You just wanted to retreat again. 

Sitting up and raising your hand again, getting ready to use your powers, once more, you made yourself appear smaller, your legs against your chest, your free arm enveloping your knees, but Law’s grip was firm on your hand and he was not letting you use your powers. 

“What do you think you're doing? How long has this been going on? Why didn't you come talk to me? I'm the doctor of this ship! Not just your captain.”

You felt tears sting in the back of your eyes but tears just made your last captain angrier so you bit them back, swallowing a sob. Your hand twitched. You wanted to retreat into yourself so badly. 

“Stop trying to use your powers. If you're in pain, I'll help. You don't have to do everything alone.” 

Now this time a sob really escaped your lips. No one had cared about you or about helping you for so long. You didn't know what it felt like to get someone's help. 

“What hurts? You need to talk to me.”

He wasn't yelling anymore since your hand stopped twitching, but his gaze was so cold and intense . 

“Head.” Your voice was weak and fragile. And so, so broken.

He took out a flashlight from the desk’s drawer and examined your irises. Then  he told you to open your mouth and you groaned at the effort. 

“Dizziness?” You nodded softly. “Nausea?” You nodded once more and your hand grasped the sheets because the world was spinning again. “When was the last time you ate?” You shrug. Honestly you have no idea. “Drink?”

“I can't keep anything in my stomach.” It hurt just to talk. 

“Lay back. I'll start an IV. You're dehydrated."

You obeyed and closed your eyes. He wasn't looking at your face when a fat tear rolled down your cheek. It felt nice to be taken care of, for once. 

You felt a sting when the needle punctured your skin but barely flinched. “Next time, come to me. I don't bite.”

You nodded stiffly but realised that he needed an explanation. “My last captain didn't like to be disturbed.”

You barely whispered. 

“Well, your last captain was a dick and I thought that we had already established that.”

He knew some of the story. You didn't share everything with your new crew. They found you in chains, on one of your former captains punishments and put two and two together with the little information you had provided. They knew you were some sort of slave. You just didn't share much more than that. 

The medication he had put in the IV was helping because the pain was subsiding and you sighed. 

“If there's a next time, I'll be sure to find you.” You said and he nodded. 

There was a beat of silence and he shifted on his chair. He was probably going to leave because he had other businesses to attend to other than keep you company, but, suddenly, you needed him there with you, so you opened your mouth and immediately regretted bringing up the subject. 

“Can you erase tattoos?”

His dark eyes bore into yours and you gulped while looking elsewhere.

“Yes, but I thought that they hadn't marked you.” He looked at your bare arms and legs - since you still had your pyjamas on. 

“They did. You just can't usually see it…” You felt your cheeks turn beet red. You should not have mentioned this. “Forget it, it's fine. It doesn't bother me that much.” You could feel your eyes stinging again. 

“Clearly it does.” He leaned back on the chair and crossed his arms. “Do you want to show me?”

Not really. You didn't even know why you brought it up. Other than the fact that everytime you undressed or took a shower you wanted to use a knife and cut that damn tattoo off of you. 

“It's big.”

That was an understatement. It was huge. 

“Show me.” Well that was an order. And you were used to those. So you sighed deeply, trying to gather some courage. 

He was a doctor, he was a handsome man. He had definitely seen boobs before. There was nothing to fear. 

Slowly you lifted your pyjama's shirt, making sure you kept your nipples covered with your hands - trying to maintain some dignity, at least - while your eyes looked at anything other than his face. 

Law got up and you heard a low grunt erupting from deep in his throat. “That dick did this to you?”

You nodded and suddenly your throat felt very tight. “He did.” You could feel Law’s eyes roaming around your body. The tattoo of the previous crew Jolly Roger was carved in the middle of your sternum but, since the Jolly Roger was of an octopus, it's tentacles were everywhere. Two of them enveloped your breasts in a very sexualized manner, there were two that escaped to the back, two just roamed around your stomach and the other two disappeared beneath the hem of your shorts. 

And those were the ones Law was staring at, his eyes dark and his lips a thin line. You gulped, self conscious of your body and covered up. 

“It's no big deal. It's been there for the last five years anyway…” And you could still feel the way your last captain touched you to mark your skin. Your turned your face away from Law, stifling a very small sob. You hated feeling this weak and pathetic. But there was nothing that you could do about it. 

After five years of constant abuse, it was instinctive. 

“I can do it whenever you want.” His voice betrayed nothing. But his eyes were as cold as death. 

“Would right now be okay?” Had that sounded desperate? Because you were pretty sure you could not take another bath scrubbing yourself raw until everything turned red. 

He nodded. “Just going to let Bepo know that I'll be busy. We should let the IV finish as well, so you have strength.”

And he left you without another word, but you could see him clenching his fists and could feel his aura and he was beyond angry. 

You closed your eyes and tried to rest a bit. The pain in your head had finally subsided. 

-*-

You woke up to a burning sensation in your stomach and hissed through your teeth while lifting up your head. 

“I'm sorry, does it hurt? I anaesthetised you, so it shouldn't be too bad.” You shook your head. You'd known worse pain than this. “You were sound asleep so I started on your back then proceed to the stomach area. It's done.”

You looked down and he was right. A big part of it was gone. Most of the tentacles and the Jolly Roger were gone. You were really out of it for not having felt anything. 

“For the rest of the tentacles you need to… Remove your clothes.” Was that a hint of a blush on his face? Because yours was burning up. 

You nodded slowly. “Now?” He also nodded so you took a deep breath and took off your shirt. It was just boobs. And nipples. The last crew had seen them on a daily basis anyway and you were pretty sure that Law was just going to look at them in a medical way, not oggle at them and try to touch them like the other pirates did. 

Somehow, very secretly, you were glad that the last captain only wanted you to himself. You would not have survived long by being abused by everyone in the crew. 

Yep, that was definitely a blush on his cheeks. You gulped and tried to look anywhere but his face, but it was hard. He was so… intriguing… 

Law hissed trough his teeth and flexed his fingers. “I have to touch you. It's the way this works. Can I?” You nodded but he closed his eyes firmly. “I know what you've been trough - at least what you do share, clearly not enough - so I need verbal consent this time, okay? Can I touch your breasts?”

Your stomach summersaulted at this affirmation and you were pretty sure that your heart had skipped a beat. Thankfully you weren't on any monitor or that would've been flagrant. “Yes, you can touch me.”

And as soon as his long fingers started to trace the tattoo on your skin, you felt like molten lava. He was just using his fingertips and his touch was so light, yet it was igniting a fire in your belly that you didn't know was there. 

You were pretty sure that your mouth hung open since the minute he started to touch you but you couldn't care less. This feeling was overwhelming . You gulped and glanced at his face. His brows were scrunched together and his jaw was clenched tight. You could see little prespiration beads forming in his forehead. Was he using that much of his power? Or was it just the concentration? 

His fingertips grazed your erect nipple and you bit your lower lip to stifle a moan. What was wrong with you? He was a doctor! He was doing a procedure! And you were getting turned on like crazy! 

You closed your eyes tight and took a deep shaky breath. Vaguely a lone thought passed through your mind. You had never been touched like this. In such a gentle way. No touch had ever ignited this… desire within you. 

You could feel your heart beating somewhere between your legs and you knew that that was no place for it to be beating so you tried to think of something else. 

But you couldn't think of anything else. 

Because this man was fire and desire and he was literally burning himself into your skin. Your hands clasped the sheets tight and you fought very hard not to arch your back and lean into his touch. 

“Does it hurt?” His voice was somewhat affected as well. He seemed… drunk. But certainly not on booze. 

“No!” You should've just kept your mouth shut tight because your no came out accompanied with an earth shattering moan that you were trying to contain since he started to touch you. He gasped and removed his hands. You turned tomato red and covered your mouth with your own hand. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean…” 

Didn't mean what, genius? To be so turned on by your touch? To give in to pleasure? To want to have your lips on my nipples and your cock inside me? Shit. You should get a grip. 

His hands were on the bed and he hung his head down, taking a deep breath. Was this affecting him too? 

“Maybe you should use your powers.” His voice was so low that you weren't sure he had spoke at all. “Remove your sense of touch so I can do this.” The silence was stifling. “And remove mine, as well…”

When you didn't answer he lifted his head and you could see his eyes. He seemed lost, like he had never felt quite like this before. So you felt bold. 

“I want to feel you.” You forced yourself to stare at him while you said those words and you couldn't care less if your head was fuming with embarassment. “Do you want to feel me…?”

He opened his mouth to answer but closed it immediately, taking a deep breath instead. “I'm your captain.”

“So?"

“Your experience with previous captains was terrible. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

Your hand traveled all the way up to his and your touch was feather light. “You're not making me feel uncomfortable. You're helping me heal.”

And that was the truth, because his touch was healing emotional scars as much as the physical ones and he should know that. 

His eyes burned through yours and he seemed to be waging war inside of himself. 

A small nod. 

You could count that as a win. So you settled back again. Inhaling deeply and trying to control your emotions. You could use your powers as he had suggested. But you wanted to feel him . 

“I need you to… Lower your shorts… Please.”

Your head snapped up and you stared at your boobs. He was done already with the tentacles of the breasts? Okay, so this was fast. You could get trough this. 

Gulping, your hands found the hem of your shorts and you pulled them down, along with your panties. You heard Law’s shaky exhale while he looked at you. You knew the two tentacles trailed over the mound of your pussy and wrapped themselves around your thighs. So you lifted your knees and  opened your legs slightly before he had to ask you to. 

It took a while before he touched you and you were starting to feel self conscious. “Is… Is everything alright?”

He grunted and held his index finger up, like asking you to wait, while his eyes remained closed. For an instant you thought that he was reviewing the process in his head, but then your eyes traveled down his pants - unintentionally - and you could see the outline of his hardened cock tight against his pants. 

So he was as aroused as you were. 

Blushing, you were just about to give some mercy to this man and to use your powers when he opened his eyes and, with a very determined look, started to touch you. 

And by everything that was sacred, there were so many nerves down there, and it was like they were all tingling, right now. 

You instantly clenched your jaw and grasped the sheets. His touch was harsher now, needier it seemed. He was using both hands - maybe trying to finish this faster? - and the sensations were intensifying by the second. 

A burning sensation all around, a tightness in your belly and an ache - like something was missing - in your core. His fingers were so deft and long and hot and you needed them inside you so desperately .

You bit your lip and couldn't help but arch your back a little when his finger almost touched your clit. He grunted and hissed through his teeth but he did not stop. 

Aparently, two hands truly worked faster because he moved his position and was now staring at your tighs - and probably at your dripping wet self. 

“You're going to kill me.” He muttered between his teeth but before you could reply, he had one hand on each of your tighs and his touch was now rough but not at all unkind and you moaned so hard your throat hurt. 

“Fuck, Law. Maybe take a break. I-... I'm…” Everything was overwhelming and his touch was igniting you and you just knew that you were going to fold and come even without his fingers inside of you, if he didn't remove his fucking hot hands from you. 

“I'm almost done.” His grunt was almost animal like and this time - maybe on purpose or maybe because he was being a bit sloppy with his work - his thumb did brush your clit. 

“Law!” You screamed and squirmed and your legs clenched while you rode out your waves of pleasure. 

God, nothing ever had felt quite like this. And this was the result of this man's blessed hands. You noticed that he was panting as well. A very deep blush was covering his cheeks, as were yours. 

“I'm sorry…” You started, a bit ashamed now. 

He inhaled and regained a bit of composure. “Don't ever say you're sorry about your pleasure. You and I both know you've suffered enough.”

You nodded while a lone tear traveled across your cheek. 

“Your tattoo is gone now. Hopefully I was able to replace the awful memories associated with it.” 

Your mirthful laugh made him lift his eyes to meet yours and he looked surprised. You realised that it was because this was the first time that you had actually laughed since boarding the Polar Tang. “Yes, you were.”

“Are you alright?” He asked, his cool demeanour almost back in place. You nodded softly and he hooked another fluid bag to your IV and told you to rest for a while. 

His hand lingered on your arm, you noted. 

And as you closed your eyes you couldn't help but think that you were alright indeed. 

Albeit, perhaps a bit in love with Trafalgar Law.

#law x reader #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #heart pirates

[gatorbites-imagines]

Padwan anakin x more dark side leaning reader?

Padawan Anakin Skywalker x dark side leaning male reader

Headcanons

Featuring my boy Jon Antilles, give it up for Jon Antilles everybody.

You had both been younglings with the jedi, and later Padawans. You had been older than Anakin by the time he joined the order, meaning you were just at the cusp of getting sent off to the other corpse if you didn��t get picked as a padawan.

You had never fit in much with the Jedi. You were too emotional, too quick to anger, and your grudges knew no ends. You still had a chip on your shoulder because Yoda decided to tease you when you were very small, if that said anything about your ability to hold grudges.

You were the child of two slaves, who had served under the worst of the worst. This meant you had been surrounded by darkness and hate since you started growing in your parents’ womb. You had overheard many of the older jedi wonder if that was the reason for your emotional state.

Anakin didn’t fit in much either, having joined so late and being the so called chosen one. Because of this, you two found comfort in each other.

Anakin was so excited about being a jedi, though he also feared living up to the potential. In your eyes he just switched one slave owner for the next, as that was how it felt to you. But he was young and bright, so you didn’t wanna rain on his parade.

But just before your 13th birthday, you were taken as a padawan of one of the lesser known and vaguer Jedi of the order, Jon Antilles. He was a person who followed the will of the force and not the order, and the force led him to you.

He would later tell you that he looked into your eyes and saw the fire raring within you, unable to be quelled and as a result, making you someone who would suffer under the pressure and expectations of the order.

Saying goodbye to Anakin was hard, as you two had found yourselves as the only true friend the other had. Many feared you because of your known anger and revenge seeking tendencies, and Anakin because of the heavy burden of the prophesy.

But as two former slaves, you also both knew that the galaxy was vast, and that you had to go where the currents took you. Anakin also understood, even though he still didn’t fully understand the order, that you didn’t belong within the temple and that you needed to spread your wings.

Before you left, you pressed a kiss to Anakin’s forehead and gave him a bracelet made out of a thick black cord. It chafed the skin but was sturdy enough to take anything that may hit it. It was the last keepsake you had of your parents, and it had been what kept you going for all this time, and now you wanted Anakin to have it.

So, with one last goodbye, and promises whispered in the language of slaves, you left with your new Master, who told you not to call him master but instead refer to him as your teacher.

Jon Antilles had seen the worst the galaxy had to offer, and had no wish to be referred to as master by someone who was once a slave.

Back at the temple Anakin would find himself crying silently and tearlessly in his room, mourning the loss of a friend, his only friend. Obi Wan would feel his grief in the force, and would go to comfort him, knowing what it is like to lose someone so dear to you.

This would most likely lead to their relationship being better in this universe, at least a little. As that one moment helped cement a deeper level of trust and understanding.

Anakin stayed with the order and became more and more skilled, a part of him waiting for the moment you two would reunite. The bracelet stayed around his wrist, though he moved it to some other part of his body to keep it hidden, and other jedi started mumbling comments about attachment.

You thrived under Antilles, as he didn’t follow the orders from the council, the order, or even the republic. He only seemed to care about where the force wanted him, and by extension you, to go.

Your teacher was a firm believer in the light, but he also saw that the dark existed, so when you for the first time grasped the dark side in a life-or-death situation, he didn’t punish you like you feared.

Using the dark side once means it’s always with you, but instead of shunning you, your teacher helps you find balance, at least to the best of your ability.

The dark side is hard to master, and maybe you never fully do. But you never give yourself too it completely, always holding a tight grasp on the light beside it, letting the two feed off of each other to keep you from going down an unforgivable path.

Your anger and grudges still persist, and there are times you end up being needlessly cruel, but you catch yourself before its too late. During these times your teachers help is necessary, until you master it on your own.

Because of the nomadic lifestyle of Antilles and you, you end up ready to go on your own much before most other Padawan. Life experiences matures a person, and Antilles trusts you to do what is right, even if he has caught you practicing lightning or sucking the life energy out of things.

So as Anakin still works hard to be a better padawan and to fit the tight mold the order places upon him, you explore the outer parts of the galaxy, running with bounty hunters and pirates alike.

One might think you would be discovered as a jedi one way or another, but thanks to your less and jedi personality, and preferences for other weapons, you are never figured out.

Your loyalty to the rules of the order are also very very loose, if not nonexistent. The many experiences you have out in the galaxy puts many things into perspective, and you make your own theories and ideas about how the force works, theories that struggle against the rules of the jedi.

During all this time, Anakin can’t seem to leave your mind. Hes always present somewhere in there, the thin thread of a bond between the two of you so skinny its barely there anymore after all this time. But every now and again, you like to give it a little tug, smiling to yourself when he tugs back.

You two meet again during one of Anakin’s missions with Obi Wan, a mission that’s taken them further away from the core than Anakin has been since he was taken in by the jedi.

It’s a mission involving a slave trader who’s somehow smuggling slaves in and out of the republic, and the two jedi were sent to check it out but not get involved, much to Anakin’s annoyance.

They end up splitting up, not wanting to be suspected, and Anakin has to wear something to cover his head to hide his Padawan braid.

In the end, Anakin finds the hideout of the Slave traders, and just as he’s about to report it back to Obi Wan, a figure swoops in and starts ransacking the place.

Anakin can only watch with shock as you tear through the slave traders, the darkness inside you purring at their spilled blood, as the light silently approves of the justice you act out. Its only after you’ve freed all the slaves and take your hood off that Anakin recognizes you.

One way or another he follows you and corners you, in the way Anakin does, eyes wide but sparkling at how much skill you had shown in there, many questions leaving him as he wants to know what you have been up too and how you got here.

Most jedi would probably have disapproved of you killing the slavers, but Anakin had never seen slavers as anyone worth living, not that he could share those thoughts with anybody.

But at some point, you end up taking the Jedi padawan back to the room you booked for the night, where you two spend the entire night talking about what’s happened since last time you met, the bond between you strengthening after so long apart.

After that, you two keep bumping into each other. You had a feeling the force was playing a role in this, and you swore you could hear it giggling in amusement a sit pushed you together with its chosen one again and again.

Whenever you were around, the mission always ended much faster, meaning Anakin could slip away and spend time with you before reporting back to Obi Wan.

During this time, the childish crush he had had on you all that time ago comes back with a vengeance. Even when he sees you use sith lightning for the first time, he can’t seem to feel anything by affection for you.

Anakin knows he should fear you, but even as your turned turn yellow for a second or two as you lean fully into the dark during a battle, he only seems able to find your beautiful.

When Anakin kisses you for the first time, neither of you truly know how to react. Anakin’s never been in a relationship, and you have never really been with anyone you truly had feelings for. But Anakin just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, even as he knows it goes against everything the order has taught him.

If he truly were to follow the order, Anakin would have to report that you had fallen, even though you still used the light as much as you did the dark. After that he would have to stay away from you, lest you corrupt him. But he just can’t, so he stays, slipping you information so you know where his next mission goes, so you “accidentally” end up with a contract on that planet.

You settle on Coruscant for a while, which means Anakin can sneak out and spend time with you away from prying eyes.

The fact that you use the dark without succumbing to it ends up helping Anakin not fall when that time comes, but for now, you just help him get a better understanding of the force and how you have come to see it as an entity.

Obi Wan regularly wonders where Anakin goes, and worries to some degree, but he does realize that Anakin always feels lighter and more at peace when he returns from his outings, so he lets him have them to himself, hoping his Padawan would tell him if there was anything he needed to know.

As a result of your status, Anakin would start to think about leaving the order someday. Maybe not soon, but maybe one day he would like to leave with you and just go where the force takes you two.

He knows it’s a romantic fantasy, but Anakin can’t help but bask in it, even if he has to do it in secret. Being your partner just brings him more peace than any meditation ever has, and Anakin never wants to let you go.

#male reader #dark side reader #anakin skywalker #star wars #padawan anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker headcanon #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x male reader #star wars imagine #star wars headcanon #star wars x male reader #star wars x reader #star wars clone wars imagine #star wars clone wars headcanon #padawan anakin skywalker imagine #padawan anakin skywalker headcanon #padawan anakin skywalker x male reader #padawan anakin skywalker x reader #Jon antilles appears for like a few lines #shoutout to jon antilles

[crezz-star]

So… I finally made a One piece OC.

All due to the idea I've been imagining today. A what if Luffy and the crew met someone who, very uncanny, looks and sounds like Ace.

Thus… Jean was made. ✏️✏️✏️

Info at read more ( it is a messy ramble format so beware. )

He was born as a slave to the celestial dragons, after his parents was caught while his mother was pregnant to him.

He grew up with an isolated understanding that he really was just that. A slave, until he died. his parents would die just a few years in from the torture done to them. While Jean still lives on. He would meet Boa and the others who was like him telling him that there was more to the world than their servitude. But he was way too unmovable with his mentality that he will die like that, that he thinks they're just being dumb he would get depressed as time passed, so when the freeing of slaves at Mary Geoise by fisher tiger came, he was too weak to even move and being mistaken as already dead, he was left there.

but he is still alive and would later then be dumped on auction houses by his current owner. where he would, surprisingly be given better treatment by his fellow slaves as well as taken care of.

he would meet different kinds of people in the auction houses. where he would learn about the world and eventually wanting to be free.

Jean is at the auction house at sabaody, the place where luffy destroyed and punched a celestial dragon. he's in his cat form. and thats the moment he finally achieved freedom.

he hears about the man who freed them and made it his missiong to thank him. maybe even join the adventures of his savior if allowed the two years he spent wandering around, would be the time he would stumble upon the graphite graphite fruit, which what would also help him get stronger, learning to fight on his own as well.

once he deems himself strong enough, he would seek out luffy and his crew to finally and hopefully thank him and ask to join him. hoping to be able to create drawings of the landscape in the places they would visit.

how he met the crew:

after punk hazard. on the way to dressrosa ( they arrived at a small island where Jean is currently in, to restock ). Jean saw their ship, transformed into his cat/tiger form and went into the ship.

once the crew left the island. he's already there. and when everyone saw him. they just though he was some cat.

chopper was the first who was talking to him and chopper thought he was a stray and Jean just went with it for a while.

everyone treated him like some pet. until one morning where he poofed back to his human form.

everyone was in panic. but when he showed that he was their pet. ( he was VERY PROUD to be called the pet of the strawhats ) everyone was a bit freaked not because of that but he looks and sounds like ace.

everyone is very shaken especially luffy and thught he was some evil guy using ace's face

jean explained that they saved him at sabaody, that he was one of the slaves at the auction house.

he would always use his cat form after seeing how shaken luffy is with him. not minding being in cat from one bit. so long as he lets him join them.

luffy does eventually let him join. at first only referring to him as 'pet cat' to finally calling him by name 'jean'

Jean is part of the mature group of the crew.

he does have similar personality as Ace but he likes to tease the younger ones a lot. especially making Zoro feel jelly by being too close to Luffy

yes this is ZoLuccentric

Jean is pushing Zoro and Luffy to realize their 'feelings' for one another.

JEAN BITS

Jean is 28

Jean loves hot chocolate as it reminds him of his mother. the only thing that his mother ever made him.

Jean's weapon of choice is his foot. making his battle style a bit similar to Sanji ( careful not to harm his hands anymore, wanting to paint )

but he does still use his hands when he uses his devil fruit. he fighs like a martial artist'

Jean's devil fruit is a good conductor of fire so he always have a lighter with him. he sets fire to his graphite which creates the illusion that he uses fire. ( another thing that makes him unsettling for Luffy and the crew.

his devil fruit is logia type. his graphite can be sand like crocodile and or liquid ish like candle and or can be solid as well.

Jean would most likely always be found at high places in places they visit, to paint / draw

jean is 6'5"

he and usopp get along well because of their artistic side.

he can do recon missions well because of his ability to transform to a cat

#crezztellations #one piece #one piece oc #this is zoluccentric oc #ppl at X already inquiring if he has a girlfriend #dears pls #ahahahahahahahaha

[spiderfreedom]

Why women presented as men, in their own words

Most of these working-class women appear to have begun their "masculine" careers not because they had an overwhelming passion for another woman and wanted to be a man to her, but rather because of economic necessity or a desire for adventure beyond the narrow limits that they could enjoy as women. But once the sexologists became aware of them, they often took such women or those who showed any discontent whatsoever with their sex roles for their newly conceptualized model of the invert, since they had little difficulty believing in the sexuality of women of that class, and they assumed that a masculine-looking creature must also have a masculine sex instinct.

Autobiographical accounts of transvestite women or those who assumed a masculine demeanor suggest, if they can be believed at all, that the women's primary motives were seldom sexual. Many of them were simply dramatizing vividly the frustrations that so many more women of their class felt. They sought private solutions to those frustrations, since there was no social movement of equality for them such as had emerged for middle-class women. Lucy Ann Lobdell, for example, who passed as a man for more than ten years in the mid-nineteenth century, declared in her autobiography: "I feel that I cannot submit to all the bondage with which woman is oppressed," and explained that she made up her mind to leave her home and dress as a man to seek labor because she would "work harder at housework, and only get a dollar per week, and I was capable of doing men's work and getting men's wages." "Charles Warner," an upstate New York woman who passed as a man for most of her life, explained that in the 1860s:

“When I was about twenty I decided that I was almost at the end of my rope. I had no money and a woman's wages were not enough to keep me alive. I looked around and saw men getting more money and more work, and more money for the same kind of work. I decided to become a man. It was simple. I just put on men's clothing and applied for a man's job. I got it and got good money for those times, so I stuck to it”

A transvestite woman who could actually pass as a man had male privileges and could do all manner of things other women could not: open a bank account, write checks, own property, go anywhere[…]

Ralph Kerwinieo (nee Cora Anderson), an American Indian woman who found employment for years as a man and claimed that she "legally" married another woman in order to "protect" her from the sexist world, also expressed feminist awareness for her decision to pass as a man:

“This world is made by man—for man alone.... In the future centuries it is probable that woman will be the owner of her own body and the custodian of her own soul. But until that time you can expect that the statutes [concerning] women will be all wrong. The well-cared for woman is a parasite, and the woman who must work is a slave.... Do you blame me for wanting to be a man-free to live as a man in a man-made world? Do you blame me for hating to again resume a woman's clothes?”

There must have been many women, with or without a sexual interest in other women, who would have answered her two questions with a resounding "no!"

From “Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers.” The economic reason for women to pass as men is almost never mentioned, funny that!

#mypost #radical feminism #lesbian women #bookcitation #the more things seem to change #gnc women #100 notes tag

[thegreenlizard]

Bare beskar

On the eve of marching to war, Obi-Wan makes plans and digs out his old armour. Musings on Mandalorian armour and culture, the ethics of commanding slave soldiers and how that affects one’s self-image.

Could be the same AU as “Not Obi-Wan’s first slave uprising” and “What makes a military genius” (where Obi-Wan is presented with a battalion of slave soldiers, says please and thank you, and starts plotting how to take down the slavers).

Obi-Wan has Mandalorian armour, courtesy of the Kyr’tsad who failed to kill him when he was seventeen and running for his life on Mandalore. The Jedi frown on such soldierly things, so the armour has mostly gathered dust in his closet for the past decade and some. But Obi-Wan has fought in a war before and recognises that no matter how good one is, sometimes armour is all that stands between bleeding out in a ditch and living to fight another day.

So on the eve of marching to war, Obi-Wan digs out his armour to clean and repair and condition every piece. He looks at its light green for peace and green for duty, the order’s wings on one pauldron/over his heart. He strips it all off. He has no right to wear any of it now, and the bare beskar is a statement of its own.

Plus

- Feels about how bare unpainted beskar could be silver for seeking redemption, disavowing all ties (in that there’s no one and nothing to paint his armour for), for being an outcast (which in his heart, he has already decided to become), or all of them. Leading a slave army to war is really really not in the Jedi mission statement. Obi-Wan, having experienced his own stints as a slave, having brought up a padawan who was born a slave, and having already left the order once for an army of child soldiers—well, he has some feels about it.

- Obi-Wan’s closet doesn’t just have armour, it also has a veritable armoury of, ah, useful souvenirs from his various missions. Maybe it makes him a bad Jedi, but Obi-Wan has some difficulty with letting go of possessions that have saved his life. Such as the sniper rifle from Melidaan, a blaster from here, and a vibroblade from there…

- Cody’s/The 212th’s reactions to their Jedi whose luggage apparently includes a full set of arms and armour and little else.

- There’s a story that armour tells for anyone who can read it and I wonder if the clones could. There are only a few things that a completely unpainted beskar’gam could mean. Either it’s completely new and the owner hasn’t had time yet to paint it. But Kenobi’s beskar’gam isn’t new: the metal has scrapes all over it and some fittings are clearly newer than others. It could be second hand, but as the weeks pass, the metal stays bare. And even though some shinies joke about their shiny, very visible general, Kenobi won’t even put on a matte base coat, just thanks the men politely and keeps on shining. It has to be intentional.

- When Obi-Wan eventually repaints his armour, it’s in gold for the 212th and black for justice for the vode.

In the days between accepting his marching orders and shipping out to meet his battalion, Obi-Wan researches, plans, and packs. He sleeps fitfully and dreams of Melida-Daan, of Bandomeer, of Mandalore. He tears through the archives and with echoes of the Young in his ears, downloads anything that might help keep his men alive. With a growing cold like deep sea mines, he reads the clones spec sheets, reviews galactic law, and speed reads his way through the last few years of the senate’s bills.

He pulls out of his closet possessions unbecoming of Jedi—things he has kept because he has been unable to let go of the fear of . There’s his old XX sniper rifle from Melida-Daan. A blaster from here. A vibroblade from there.

And there’s the armour he got from Mandalore. It’s painted in green for duty and erin for peace, the order’s sigil on the pauldron. He can hardly stand to look at it. Standing here, at the eve of marching to war that is to be fought with slave soldiers, he has no right to wear any of it. Not the green of duty, for he has forsaken his duty to protect all sentient life in accepting command of an army of slaves. Not the erin of peace, for he is marching off to fight a war to force worlds to stay in a republic they don’t wish to be a part of. Not the sigil of the Jedi order, for he has already forsaken his vows in these actions—and has already decided to forsake his duty to the republic.

Obi-Wan strips the beskar bare. Before refitting the armour, going through the straps, buckles, replacing worn parts and reconditioning the rest. He spends sleepless nights in the salles relearning to fight in armour.

“Paint? I painted it when I was seventeen. I, ah, stripped it when I accepted the draft.” Kenobi grimaces, but sets his jaw and continues. “I couldn’t keep the paint I had after that.” There’s an odd, bitter clang to his words.

#plot bunny #drabble #blanket permission #space bunnies #codywan #not obi-wan’s first slave uprising #beskar'gam #beskar’gam #mandalorian armour #mandalorian armor

[petitprincess1]

They could have made Adam, Lute and Sera villain that have a point. Hell is full of rapist, pedo, serial killers, slave owners. Charlie should realize most of her people are awful. Another point Angels could have used was show Angel Dust flashback when he was human to show what he wrong in his life. Because if you don't know the lore, that Angel is Mobster because the show doesn't tell you. You don't know what Angel did.

They do have a point. However, it's also filled with hypocrisy, which should be (and was) pointed out. Also, idk if you noticed, but Charlie snapped at Valentino for his behavior with Angel. It's very clear that she does have a limit to who she views as redeemable or even deserves respect. Heck, Happy Day In Hell shod even further that Charlie is fully aware of how evil her people can be. Also, not everything needs to be said aloud. Sometimes, it helps to pay attention.

As for Angel Dust, you don't need to know what he's done. The dude is in Hell. I think it's fairly obvious that he's done some horrible shit. And that flashback wouldn't be necessary at this moment. They are literally going to be exterminated very soon. It would be bad writing to grind the story to a halt bc you feel like we need MORE PROOF as to why Angel's in Hell. Also, the various guns that Angel had, esp a Tommy gun, kinda gives you a heads-up.

Also, I don't see your point. Yes, Angel did that while he was alive, but that doesn't mean he can't change. I mean, that's no different than a rehabilitated conviction. Again, not everyone deserves that, but we also see that not everyone will be redeemed or even attempt to seek redemption.

I'm sure a lot of this will be explored more. We're only in S1 and there are much bigger things going on that needs more focus than those. You don't like it? Fair, but that doesn't justify being impatient.

#hazbin hotel #ask answered #ok 2 rb

[animentality]

i think Gortash's time in the house of hope taught him some very important things, all of which shaped his world view and his sense of personhood.

he learned, first off, that people are currency, as he was sold to pay off minor debts, and he would spend his entire childhood surrounded by the souls of the damned, bargained away for things that ultimately would not matter in death.

he also learned that you cannot allow yourself to be currency. you cannot be like everyone else. you have to be above the rest.

you must prove your worth as something more than a slave. you must prove you're worthy of being the owner and not the owned.

and he carried that with him even when he escaped, and it became this ravenous desire for power, an irrepressible burn in the back of his throat that would overpower all sense of decency or mercy. he cannot be like these people with friends and family, who waste their time being happy and content with what they have.

he must want more. he must be special and important and destined for greatness.

all that time in the hells didn't hurt him, of course not; it just made him stronger. it was just part of his tragic backstory, a mere footnote in the biography of the great hero Enver Gortash, ruler of all things.

he could never settle for anything. he could never sit down and stop here, and be content with the money he made or the influence he had. he always had to pursue more.

and because of this, he was doomed, because no one man can have everything, and those who try to have it all, cannot fight the entire world and win.

he never escaped the house of hope. he died there, and the person who emerged bearing his face and a new name was never going to survive either.

he might've seen himself as a hero.

but he could never be one.

heroes might seek glory, they might be martyrs, destined for heroic deaths, but they serve others.

enver gortash could never serve another person.

never again.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash

[ausetkmt]

Freedmen Seek Their Fair Share of Billions of Dollars in Federal Aid and Why We Should Care/Rise UP and Support Them

By Eli Grayson Eagle Guest Writer

Eli Grayson is a Creek Citizen and unabashed supporter of the Freedmen descendants of the 5 Civilized Tribes and the 1866 Reconstruction Treaties.

This past week, we celebrated our Nation’s 244th year of Independence with family and friends over BBQ and fireworks, we should all stop to reflect on its significance, particularly in light of the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement.

The protests that have swept the country by those outraged over the death of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and far too many others, most of whose names have not garnered national attention, has sparked a long-overdue National dialogue about the treatment of Black Americans in the United States, a reckoning with this country’s past, the many vestiges of slavery that continue today, and what we as a country can and must do to address racism. [It also reminds ALL of us that we have a long way to go.]

Not only have the egregious deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery led to a growing chorus of voices calling for criminal justice reform, it has prompted many to reflect upon racism in both its subtle and overt forms today. It has prompted many to learn about events long celebrated by Black Americans such as Juneteenth (even the NFL recently recognized Juneteenth as an official holiday). And it has prompted many to consider what steps we as individuals, and as a society, can take to affirmatively address it. Here in Oklahoma, attention has focused on Black Wall Street and the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre.

Well known is the U.S. Government’s abhorrent treatment of Native Americans, which included abrogation of countless treaties, appropriation of land, and forced removal to Western territories, including what is today Oklahoma.

Less well known, however, is the fact that the Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Muscogee (Creek) and Seminole Nations – collectively known today as the Five Civilized Tribes – enslaved Africans. Like Southern plantation owners, they bought and sold slaves and treated them as chattel property. Indeed, slaveholding was such an integral part of the daily life of these tribal nations that each entered treaties with the Confederate States of America in 1861 to ensure its continuance.

Many Americans recently learned for the first time about the meaning and significance of Juneteenth, when nearly all remaining slaves in the United States and its territories were freed – a full 71 days after Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrendered at Appomattox on April 9, 1865 to Union forces led by General Ulysses S. Grant.

Enslaved Africans of Indian Territory

This was not the case for the enslaved Africans of Indian Territory. Even after Lee’s surrender, and even after General Granger read his Orders, the enslaved Africans of Indian Territory were kept in bondage.

Sadly, it was not until the Five Tribes of Indian Territory entered Treaties with the U.S. Government on March 21, with the Seminole Nation, on April 28, with the Chickasaw and Choctaw Nations, on June 14, with the Muscogee (Creek) Nation and on July 19, with the Cherokee Nation in 1866 – more than a year after Lee’s surrender – were these slaves granted freedom, tribal citizenship, and equal interest in the soil and national funds.

Each of these treaties (collectively known as the Treaties of 1866) contained provisions freeing the slaves and an express acknowledgement that the U.S. Constitution was, and shall remain, the Supreme Law of the land. Notably, there was no mention of tribal law or sovereignty insulating these slave holding tribes from full compliance with the U.S. Constitution, which includes all the Civil War reconstruction amendments.

Today, we find ourselves at a turning point in society. Similar to the country as a whole, the Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Muscogee (Creek), and Seminole Nations must take this seminal moment to carefully examine their slaveholding past, their prior allegiance with the Confederacy, enshrined through Treaties entered in 1861, and how they can make amends by fully adhering to both the letter and spirit of the 1866 Reconstruction Peace Treaties.

Congressional legislation

The three House bills are H.R. 2, the Invest in America Act, which includes $1 billion for the Native American Housing Block Grant Program to create or rehabilitate over 8,000 affordable homes for Native Americans on tribal lands; H.R. 6800, the HEROES Act, which includes $6 billion for housing and community development to respond to the Coronavirus; and H.R. 5319, the Native American Housing and Self-Determination Reauthorization Act (NAHASDA), which would authorize $680 million in grants to tribes in the first year and grow to $824 million in the fifth and final year.

Why is this important and why should you care? NAHASDA was originally passed by Congress in 1996 to address poor housing conditions in Indian country and last re-authorized in 2008. It is a flagship Federal law for Native American tribes and the vehicle through which approximately $650 million flows annually to the tribes. In Oklahoma, the Five Civilized Tribes receive more than $62 million annually in direct grants for housing and community development projects. These grants are based on a formula that takes into account various factors including the number of tribal members. Notably, these grants are supported by taxpayers.

For the 2021 Fiscal Year, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD), which is responsible for administering NAHASDA, has informed the Five Civilized Tribes that they can expect to receive $62,223,462. Thus, nearly 10 percent of all NAHASDA grant funds will go to just these five tribes. By any measure, this is a significant sum, particularly when you consider that there are approximately 573 federally recognized tribes in the United States today, according to data from the federal Bureau of Indian Affairs. And, the final amount will be even greater as Congress has (appropriately) increased the amount of funds for NAHASDA far above the amounts requested by this Administration, including an appropriation of $825 million for this Fiscal Year.

Oklahoma Tribes receive millions in housing aid

Native American Tribes also receive other competitively awarded grants from HUD through a program known as the Indian Community Development Block Grant program. The Choctaw Nation was recently awarded $900,000 to rehabilitate 60 single-family homes while the Cherokee Nation received the same sum to construct a community building, which will house the Early Head Start program. The Chickasaw Nation was awarded $900,000 to construct a youth center in Ardmore, Oklahoma that will provide a safe and clean place for activities and services for Chickasaw tribal youth while the Muscogee (Creek) Nation will use its $900,000 award to construct a facility on the campus of the College of Muscogee Nation. The facility will include space for exhibitions and a lecture hall. These are worthy projects and it is vital that all those in need, including Freedmen descendants, can benefit.

Why Freedmen are concerned

Now if you have read this far, you must be thinking this is great news for these five tribes. And indeed, it is. However, for the Freedmen who are de facto members of the tribe, they may never see a dime of these funds if history is any guide.

Steps such as conditioning or denying the issuance of Citizenship Cards to Freedmen descendants, as well the disenrollment of Freedmen as tribal citizens, is what first led Congress in 2008 to include language in the NAHASDA re-authorization bill to link the receipt of NAHASDA housing grants to compliance with the treaty rights and benefits conferred on the Freedmen through the 1866 treaties.

That is why the efforts of House Financial Services Committee Chairwoman Maxine Waters, D-California, to fight on behalf of the Freedmen of all Five Civilized Tribes is so vital.

The committee she chairs oversees HUD and is responsible for periodically re-authorizing NAHASDA. A bi-partisan bill introduced in Congress last December would re-authorize NAHASDA. However, unlike the 2008 legislation, which contained language to prevent the Cherokee Nation from denying Cherokee Freedmen under the Act, the bill introduced by Rep. Denny Heck and co-sponsored by Reps. Scott Tipton (R-Colorado), Ben Ray Lujan (D-New Mexico), Tom Cole (R-Oklahoma), Deb Haaland (D- New Mexico), Don Young (R-Arkansas), Rep. Gwen Moore (D-Wisconsin), and Rep. Tulsi Gabbard (D-Hawaii), does not contain any protections for the Cherokee Freedmen nor the Freedmen of the other Civilized Tribes. Similarly, the version introduced in the Senate last week is devoid of such protections for the Freedmen.

Disturbed by the pattern of denying benefits to Freedmen, Chairwoman Waters is seeking assurance that descendants of Freedmen are not denied NAHASDA funds received by the Tribes. The Descendants of the Freedmen of the Five Civilized Tribes have been working to include language that would ensure that the Freedmen of all Five Civilized Tribes receive taxpayer funded NAHASDA benefits. A similar effort advanced by former House Financial Services Committee Chairman Barney Frank was successful and helped to ensure that Cherokee Freedmen received NAHASDA benefits. And in case, any question whether such protections were needed, one look only to the fact that HUD held up NAHASDA funds to the Cherokee Nation for noncompliance.

Native Americans keep fight against Freedmen

Given the harsh treatment of Native Americans at the hands of whites, one naturally would expect these Five Tribes and their supporters and defenders to be more sensitive to the plight of Freedmen who today make up more than 200,000 descendants.

The reality has been quite the opposite.

Despite knowing all this, tribal leaders and their supporters and defenders continue to maintain that such language is not needed and further argue that such language infringes upon the sovereign rights of ALL Native American tribes.

Both arguments could not be further from the truth.

Language ensuring that the Freedmen have access to federal housing benefits is urgently needed for the very reason that Freedmen have routinely been denied NAHASDA benefits for years. And let’s be clear – language we are seeking does not apply to ALL tribes, but rather only to the Freedmen of the Five Civilized Tribes.

And it does not stop at NAHASDA benefits. Freedmen have been denied tribal citizenship, benefits, and the right to vote as well. Regarding sovereignty, these are federal taxpayer dollars – as such, the federal government and, by extension, its American citizens, have a vested interest in ensuring that all tribal members, including Freedmen, benefit from the funds appropriated pursuant to NAHASDA.

If tribes feel so strongly about their sovereign right to continue to discriminate against Freedmen through denial of federally funded benefits, they can opt to refuse the funding, which would then be redistributed to other tribes. Indeed, it is the height of hypocrisy for any of the Five Civilized Tribes or their supporters to makes these arguments as they count the Freedmen when it comes to the allocation of federal housing grants from HUD yet turn around and deny those very same Freedmen from receiving such benefits.

Freedmen are equal, lawful Tribal citizens

And don’t be mistaken. While Freedmen should be treated as equal citizens under the respective 1866 Treaties, the language we are seeking to include in each of these three bills carefully avoids this ensuring Freedmen receive taxpayer housing and community development benefits on the same terms and conditions as their Native American sisters and brothers.

Indeed, in many instances, these truly are their sisters and brothers given the extensive intermixing of Freedmen and By Blood tribal members over the years. Ironically, this has resulted in some members of a family being considered by the Five Tribes as Indian and therefore citizens of the Tribe while other family members being considered by the tribe as non-Indian and therefore like black sheep.

Yet every time we make a further legislative concession and are led to believe that we are close to a final agreement on language, the Tribes and their supporters and defenders move the goalposts. Sound familiar? Yes, a sensitive issue. The Freedmen only seek to ensure that the Five Civilized Tribes comply with the Treaties of 1866.

Tribal Nations’ actions throw shade on BLM

Lastly, the Five Civilized tribes cannot have it both ways. They cannot on the one hand claim they are victims of discrimination and participate in BLM rallies yet discriminate against Freedmen by denying them suffrage and other rights of tribal citizenship under the guise of sovereignty.

And we are under no illusion that fighting this battle for justice and equality will not remain a challenge. The Five Civilized Tribes have wielded their extensive influence amongst the Nation’s 573 tribes to frame the debate and shape the position of the National tribal organizations in Washington, whom the Members of Congress look to when writing laws that affect the tribes. Adding to the challenge is the fact that the Five Civilized tribes have deployed their sizable resources to contribute to key Members of Congress with the dual purpose of keeping Americans in the dark about their slaveholding past and ensuring that these legal protections for Freedmen never see the light of day in Congress.

But just like our Nation, it is time for the Five Civilized Tribes to stand up and confront their past by taking immediate and affirmative steps to ensure that all descendants of Freedmen receive the federal housing benefits.

This they can do by supporting legislation being courageously advanced by Chairwoman Waters that would require the Five Civilized Tribes to both comply with their Treaty obligations of ensuring access to benefits for Freedmen and report on their compliance to Congress.

Featured Image (Top), Buck C. Franklin, Nashville, Tennessee, 1899, Calvert Brothers Studio Glass Plate Negatives Collection, The Tennessee State Library and Archives Blog

#Black Lives Matter for Freedmen Descendants of the Five Civilized Tribes #Black American Freedmen #Freedmen #indians #slavery

[kriimhild]

Is there like an overview of Dusk Lounge I can read or something because it sounds so cool but I don’t understand anything :|

overview? uhmmm, not really, except the one i did in the fic but y know what? i'm giving now one, but please keep in mind that it's a +18 story.

Fazco has taken a new direction, shifting from their mechanized industry to a bio-based one. Instead of animatronics, they now produce biomatronics. They accept designs for new BioMs, offering extra benefits along with payment if you choose not to attach your name to the design. Essentially, if you sell them your designs anonymously and 'abandon' your creation to an orphanage, you receive a monetary reward. As a result, biomatronics end up in the hands of a diverse range of owners, both good and bad. Unless released by their owner's own will, biomatronics are considered servants and slaves. This forces runaway biomatronics to seek into sanctuaries

One of em is the Dusk Lounge nightclub and strip bar. Afton runs the club as a drug lord, aiming to provide the best for his 'children'. Sun works as a bartender in the club, and another well-known singer, Moon, quickly joins the scene. Moon's demeanor is somewhat selfish, incredibly sassy, flirtatious, but ultimately likable guy who seeks one-night stands. Sunny, on the other hand, is grumpy, cynical, often angry, and struggles with physical touch but longs for true love.

So of course, Kriim wants to bring these two assholes together and make them work.

#askbox #dl asks #dusk lounge overview

[milfzatannaz]

My biggest critique of Hob Gadling in the Sandman is the way his slave ownership is handled. I’m speaking mostly for the show here, but you could apply the same ideas onto the comic pretty easily.

My point of view is informed by being a half black woman raised in the Deep South. So I’m writing this in the perspective of my personal history, which I felt was necessary to establish.

The most glaringly obvious problem to me is that the narrative seeks to downplay the act of owning slaves. Frankly, the exchange where this is brought up is quite surface level. “I own slaves now” hob says, to which Morpheus responds “owning people isn’t cool” (obviously this is the gist of it and not a direct quote). Then Hob in the next scene is no longer a slave owner and all is well. Hob is cool again, virtuous even. Morpheus and their friendship was always the focal point of the scene, and this exchange has more to do with developing their friendship than condemning slavery.

I cannot realistically expect a fantasy tv show to reject or denounce slavery. That is not its purpose. But on the flip side, I think it’s very important to critique any show that treats slavery in a flippant way. That’s the crux of the problem- owning slaves was a problem for nearly a minute. And then it went away magically. In this way holding stolen Africans in bondage is a stale topic, one that can be shrugged off and downplayed.

The reality is that slavery is an atrocity committed at a scale that white people struggle to contend with. It’s known to be Bad, a Mistake, but until you immerse yourself with sources that can offer you a glimpse of what life was like for an average enslaved person, it is not easy to really understand. Hob Gadling in essence did not simply illegally transport some poor people and drop them off somewhere. He participated in a system that routinely dehumanized black individuals, sexually assaulted and degraded black women, subjected black people to unimaginable levels of torture and violence and likened them to animals

(This is not a problem unique to sandman- similar critiques can be made of hamilton or our flag means death- but it’s still worth mentioning.)

The end result to me is that the minimization of slavery in turn minimizes the stain against Hob as a person. If we can reduce the horrors of participating in the slave trade, we can go back to developing this character as someone appealing and relatable. However, you can not be appealing and relatable if you are a part of this oppression. Anyone that agrees, endorses or perpetuates this horror against black people has no morals to stand on.

I don’t think this was malicious on the writers’ or gaiman’s parts, but I wonder if any black writers were hired to work on the show. After all, a majority of the cast is black. It’s easy to downplay a slave owner’s wrongdoing. Doing so is embedded into the very fabric of American society. But I think fans need to also be exposed to this angle. We shouldn’t be shy of exposing and critiquing racism in entertainment, and black fans should feel comfortable doing so.

#salt tag #sandman

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: Thousand Ends

“-and so you have sinned” said the pearl-laden emissary as the shutters crashed open and the royal court became a tumult of wind “You have trespassed my realm and plundered foreign lands, making me accessory to your slaughter”. The figure rose, throwing aside their moral guise and those assembled said it was as if the sky itself levelled an accusing finger at the sovereigns. “You sought riches, now you shall pay.”

The remnants of a great treasure fleet scuttled in an act of divine wrath, this palisade of masts and reef of broken keels has been collecting the vessels of the greedy and the wayward ever since. The locals got tired of warning folks about “the cliffs of a thousand ends”, so over time the name was worn away just as the sea has worn away at the surrounding land.

In addition to becoming a home for all manner of sealife that now nests within the shattered ships, a covey of sirens now roosts among the nearby cliffs, their songs carried by the wind to ensorcell the minds of sailors and navigators passing by and draw them off course. ( Blame @5ecardaday for the excellent monster)

Hooks:

Driven below deck by of rain while travelling from one port to another, the party have only a few days to notice that more and more of the crew are acting strangely as they fall prey to the sirens’ enchantment, becoming sluggish and uncoordinated as they each drift off into their own fantasy land. If they don’t figure it out they’ll end up crashing on the rocks and having to fight their way through the periphery of the dungeon and then to shore as the sirens pick off the sailors.

Piled high with the fruit of slave mines and plundered temples, the ships of the treasure fleet carried tribute to fuel an empire across the sea. More than just wealth, there are any number of cultural treasures up and down the coast that the party could return to their rightful owners for great renown. 

Even before they were sundered by the wrath of a seagod, there were damned souls aboard the fleet, the blunt instruments of imperial ambition all too used to bleeding people and entire nations for the sake of feeding the royal coffers. Now they haunt the depths protecting their gold from thieves, bound by greed or fanatical loyalty to a long-fallen crown. Should the party REALLY piss them off, they will band together animating the surrounding dredgewood and perusing them even back to their vessel.

Perhaps the only thing that could dissuade a group of adventurers from seeking out what might be a motherload of sunken treasure would be their inability to breathe underwater

Because this dungeon is so expansive and atypical of layout, consider using my system for running large scale dungeons with an abstract floorplan. It’ll be far easier than trying to map out dozens of vessels above and below the waterline.

#dungeon #seaside #mid level #low level #random encounter #enchantment #sailing #undead #fey #mystery #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #5e #treasure hunt #ocean

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 1 MATCH 24

Sebille propaganda:

“Do you want a tall elven wife who is seeking vengeance against her former slave owner, answers 'yes' to the question 'did you expect to kill a god?', and goes from threatening to kill you to trusting you so much that she gives you a song which controls her mind so that you can use it against her slave owner if he when to control her?

Well, look no further. This is Sebille. The biggest top in the entire game.

Sebille does something to my brain chemistry. She is a liberator, a protector, and she can also become your ride or die lover.”

Zoe propaganda:

“she's transfemme and really into fanfic and comics. i think tumblr would love her”

#Sebille kaleran #Divinity #divinity original sin 2 #dos2 #Zoe monster prom #Monster Prom #Round 1 #MDDC 2