#divine infant

[helloparkerrose]

#catholicism #roman catholic #catholic #catholic church #divine infant #infant child of prague #statue #pray for us #child jesus

[nickysfacts]

All hail Mothra, the queen of the Monsters!

🏝️🦋👑

#history #mothra #toho studios #infant island #kaiju #movie history #the luminous fairies and mothra #mothra vs godzilla #ghidorah the three headed monster #godzilla king of the monsters #japanese history #silk moth #movies #saturniidae #japanese culture #behind the scenes #monster movies #toho kaiju #1960s #film #female characters #divine protector #queen of the monsters #moth #nickys facts

[francy-sketches]

This is the worst explanation I've ever read what 😭

#.txt #george please its becoming so hard to defend you #'why would these two fertile children not start breeding immediately' ???????? #idk man maybe its bc they're traumatized. or they're just not into eachother. maybe they're gay idk #idc about jaehaera 'getting replacted' or whatever what bothers me is the fucking. smoking hot 6 year old #like even if we accept she absolutely HAD to be 6 why did it have to be a girlboss moment #i love how asoiaf presents child marriages as bad and horrifying and then fire and blood just. doesnt #i swear he was posessed by some evil spirit when writing f&b #if asoiaf was written like f&b we would have gotten the beautiful love story of tyrek and his infant wife or smth #this is kinda funny tho. all that twitter arguing about the greens getting divine punishment or whatever #but no turns out grrm is just weird #or at the very least he's got some skewed views of medieval life #ok now I wanna hear the reason why he made viserys 2's wife so much older than him

[welleducatedinfant]

last night I watched one of my favorite local hardcore frontmen get the mic cord hopelessly tangled in the carabiner on his belt loop and spend half a song hopping around trying to fix it

#this made my day to be clear #beautiful world. #infant speaks #music #no divinity

[evilminji]

Dani should Kidnap The Clones.

It's basicly protective custody. Preemptive child services, if you will. NONE of these fuckers out here makin adorable clone baby just cause they want kids!

*kicks down the door to your shady lab* Knock Knock! ITS THE POLICE! *Walker's Shock troopers swarm the place as Dani secures the kids*

Look me in the eyes. You KNOW he'd love an excuse to enforce The Rules on people technically outside his jurisdiction. It's for The Children(tm)! Why, he simply had no CHOICE!

Meanwhile? Dani is shoving all these mal-adjusted Murder Clones into her Lair? Which is? Basicly a Door style Lair she hid inside Danny's Lair for safe keeping. It's shoved behind a vending machine just outside the observatory. And the inside? Goes on for DAYS.

Like national parks and every beautiful beach she ever came across. She smashed together the BEST sights and places she's found in her travels, like a collection. Always adding more. New waterfalls, new noodle shops, new fields of wine grapes. It's... beautiful. Snapshots of every wonderous little thing about Earth, stitched together.

They can't hurt anyone. Can't achieve their "objectives". Are just treated like actual individuals and the children they truely are. Are surrounded by other Clones. So it's NORMAL here. Just? All of it.

But also?

Dani and Dan? Teaming up to make History's Scariest Adoption Agency(TM). Dan runs it. Dan wants to know why EXACTLY you want a kid. Explain yourself to Dan. What are your references? Qualifications. He's doing a home visit to inspect the premises. He BETTER not find any suspicious Labs.

And? It just? Appears out of nowhere. It's powered by Zone Bullshit. One second you're thinking "oh woe is me D:> I will never have a child to fill my lovely home, because of all my Superhero Secrets and also because government bureaucracy!" And the next?

.....wasn't that an out of business taco bell? "Zone Adoptions"?

"....Free Clone Baby?"

Okay that is HIGHLY suspicious and as a hero you are basicly legally obligated to investigate. But now it's bigger on the inside? Fancy waiting room? You are being interrogated? Wait, no, you're supposed to be the one doing the-?

Somehow? You leave with your Clone Son from another Dimension. And a pamphlet. You're scheduled for a home visit in three days. You... you never told them where you live.

Somehow that doesn't seem like it will slow them down.

Did the Fae just Suprise Baby you with a clone baby? Can they DO that? W... what's happening? What days is this? Who ARE YOU PEOPLE?! HUH!?!?

Just? Imagine. IMAGINE. I was gonna say Bruce... but?

Damian.

He finds himself... pondering What Could Have Been. Had his Clones not wanted him dead. Wondering if he could have saved them. If, perhaps, he had found them as infants. Raised them. Could he have given them a good life? Been a good father?

He gets emotional. Fatherly. He's about 14.

Dan's been around Ghosts too long to remember how humans age or how age relates to development. This one TALKS like An Adult. Must be one. Probably just short.

And Damian? Never backs down. The second Dan starts challenging him? His character is flawless and his morals divine. He has never done anything wrong, ever, in his LIFE. Fuck you. And on TOP of that? He not only will be the SINGLE GREATEST FATHER TO EVER FATHER, his home is the most loving and beloved ON THE PLANET!

In entirety of EARTH'S history, no less!

....what are they arguing about?

*is handed a baby and kicked out of Dan's adoption agency*

See you in a few days!

(o.o ) *happy gurgling from the baby* *Damian.exe has stopped working*

Smash cut, after Damian speed runs his stages of grief at his own Dumbass Life Choices, to his rocking back up at the Manor like? Congratulations, Father. I have brought you your first grandson! Do Not ask how I obtained him. It was likely dubiously legal but I will not be returning him. We have bonded.

And just? Annihilating the collective Bats on one go. You did what? You have What?! That is a baby! WHY IS THERE A BABY?! How is there a baby!? WHOS BABY!? *sirens going off and everyone panicking*

Will Damian be allowed to KEEP the Baby? Ha! Hell no. Bruce will. Damian is a child. But it will be a Needlessly Dramatic Bat Cold War Of Dramatic Drama to pry that small cherubic baby from his grip long enough for Bruce to fill out the paperwork.

Child thieving bastard that he is. How dare he. That is Damian's SON! D:<

*happy oblivious baby noises as Alfred feeds him in the background, while the Bats do their Dramatic Custody War*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

This post used to hold a poem inspired by the Rev. Munther Isaac's declaration that "God is under the rubble in Gaza."

After a few anons and a conversation with a Jewish friend, I've decided to take the poem down because, regardless of my own intentions with it, it risks feeding the long and extremely harmful history of blood libel, because I included imagery of the infant Jesus and his parents being killed by an Israeli soldier, as many Palestinians are being killed now.

Before talking with that friend, I wrote in this response to an anon about my intentions with the poem — but while I do believe that intentions do matter, they don't matter nearly as much as impact does.

My friend helped me come to the conclusion that while the poem I wrote could be interpreted as I intended by people who already have all the context I wrote it in (see below), it could also all too easily be interpreted much more harmfully by those who lack that context — or worse, who are looking for more fuel for their antisemitism. The poem is not worth that risk, not at all.

___

Ultimately, I hold two things I believe to be true in tension:

that Christians throughout the ages have found deep comfort and encouragement in understanding Jesus as suffering in and with them. I support all Christian Palestinians who, like Rev. Isaac, experience God-with-them in this way — in this horrific time, they deserve any ounce of comfort they can derive. And them personally seeking and finding the Divine presence with them is not antisemitic.

that for Christians like myself in the USA, who live in the beating heart of Empire and Christian Supremacy, it is vital to take care in how we talk about this theology in this current situation, where the oppressors are Jewish. Providing more fuel for Christian antisemitism is inexcusable, and I deeply apologize for writing and sharing a piece that can be used in that way.

Because modern-day Israel is a Jewish state, exploring that Divine solidarity in this context comes with a great risk of perpetuating the long, harmful history of antisemitic blood libel and accusations of deicide. How do we affirm God’s presence with those suffering in Palestine without (implicitly or explicitly) adding to the poisonous lie that “the Jews killed Jesus”?

In wrestling with this complexity, I tried to write this poem to uplift both Jesus’s Jewishness and his solidarity with Palestinians. Jesus was born into a Jewish family, his entire worldview was shaped by his Jewishness, and he shared in his people’s suffering under the Roman Empire. His solidarity with Palestinians of various faiths suffering today does not erase that Jewishness. Nor does it mean that Jewish persons don’t “belong” in the region — only that modern Israel’s occupation of Palestine is in no way necessary for Jews to live and thrive there, or anywhere else in the world.

I also aimed to point out that Israel is by no means acting alone in this attack on Gaza or their decades-long occupation of Palestine. There is a much larger Empire at work, with my own country, the United States, at the helm. Israel is entangled in that imperial mess, and directly backed and funded by those forces — not because of what politicians claim, that we have to back Israel or else we’re antisemitic, but because Israel is our strategic foothold in the so-called Middle East. How do we name our complicity as our tax dollars are funneled into violence across the world, and act to end that violence?

___

I'm sorry this post isn't as articulate as I want it to be. All of this to say: I deeply apologize for any hurt my poem caused. I understand how horrific Christianity's history of — and ongoing present — antisemitism is, and how it poisons and warps so much that could have been beautiful. I'll keep educating myself; I'll keep having hard conversations; I'll keep working to uproot antisemitism in myself and my communities.

___

I'll close with a list of resources for learning about Palestine's history and getting involved.

#deeply grateful E that you were willing to have that conversation with me! #you didn't have to and i appreciate the time and energy you spent doing so. solidarity forever <3

[dualdeixis]

[Image description: A poem titled "רַבִּי / رَبِّي" written Friday, November 17, 2023: Rabbī, I cannot praise your deeds. / Rabbī, no weeping moves you. / Rabbī, your justice is wedded to perversion. / Rabbī, your love looks much like your hatred. / Rabbī, the patriarchs have been gilt as idols. / Rabbī, the Temple has been built into a prison. / Rabbī, mixed multitudes have been spat on. / Rabbī, all oneness has been sported with. / Rabbī, ministering angels have been consigned to wailing. / Rabbī, nameless infants have been fed the world’s silence. / Rabbī, your reddened sea has been exiled from shore. / Rabbī, your holy city has been split in two. / But by whom? / Rabbī, shall I say “them” or “us”? / Rabbī, which people is solely yours? / Rabbī, what image is divine alone? / Rabbī, when comes the Hour of Unlocking? / Rabbī, where hides the Place of Its Glory? / Rabbī, why? Answer now. Answer. End image description.]

note 1: as the title implies, "rabbī" may be read as the hebrew word for "a jewish cleric" or the arabic word for "my l_rd" (i.e., g_d).

note 2: this poem is written from an anti-zionist jewish perspective. therefore the question "by whom? / shall i say 'them' or 'us'?" is not meant to dispute palestine as the oppressed party. rather, it is meant to be taken extremely literally, because it is situated in my individual experience: should i—a muslim in the process of converting to judaism, who has been estranged from jewish community and had my conversion delayed because of zionism; who has no personal ties to israel but is nevertheless complicit in its genocidal actions by nature of living in the warmongering USA which uses my household's tax dollars to fund it; who believes that "all israel are responsible for one another" (shevuot 39a)—refer to the oppressors as "them" or "us"?

ways to help palestine:

decolonize palestine (patreon)

samidoun (calendar of worldwide protests)

palestine action

palestine legal

bds movement

e-sims for gaza

more resources

ways to help congo:

list of donations

boycott & donate

ways to help sudan:

list of donations

fundraiser for a refugee family

action against hunger

ways to help armenia:

all for armenia

armenian food bank

artsakh housing fund

armenian assembly of america action center

ways to help other indigenous peoples around you:

learn about whose land you may be living on

#writing #2mn

[saerins]

─── 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋

+ jing yuan x f!reader | wc 1.9k | content: fluff, established relationship, slightly suggestive

notes: this is it babes , i’m hopelessly down bad for this man and it’s been what … a week ? help !! but also , first shot at him so i hope this isn’t too ooc or anything >_< rbs appreciated muwah !!

summary: where you come to realise that jing yuan can be just like you, in all the good ways.

jing yuan is a busy, busy man.

but surely it isn’t that selfish for you to wish that all mornings are like this? this; with your boyfriend by your side past ten in the morning, half-naked under your covers and sound asleep. luckily, he doesn’t have any urgent matters to look into today and fu xuan has told you to make sure he gets enough rest today before the pace picks up again.

apparently, he’d worked himself ragged the past week and earns even the worry of the master diviner herself.

when he’s not general, when the armor comes off and the vulnerability switches on—jing yuan’s your boyfriend, and a very doting one, at that. the kind who spoils you endlessly with what he can, the one who’s quick to notice your every behaviour and tendencies, no matter how big or small.

the sunlight slips past the curtains, a sliver falling perfectly onto his face and down his arms. jing yuan is facing you, eyes closed, hair down and looking every bit the perfect specimen of a man.

that’s why you can’t help yourself, can’t help running your index finger down the line of his triceps, down to his forearms, appreciating the way the goosebumps sear delicately across his skin. you can faintly see the scar across his chest—an outcome of his earlier days ravaging battlefields, before he became general.

you still remember the small conversation the two of you had when you first saw it, when he first visited your humble house, when he first saw all of you and you, all of him.

“you don’t think it’s unsightly?” he asked.

it was funny, you thought, how jing yuan cared so much about what an ordinary girl like you thought of him.

you shook your head, accepting the kiss he leaned in to give. “not at all, general. nothing is as long as it’s on you.”

the fingers that trailed down his arms have made their way onto his hair, twirling it around the finger before it falls peacefully back onto his shoulders. his gray locks are smoother and prettier than your own hair—you find yourself envious.

how is jing yuan so pretty simply like this?

fingertips graze gently over his cheeks, thumb caressing the mole below his left eye. you smile idly to yourself, stupidly dreaming about what it would be like to spend the rest of your life next to jing yuan, much like the lovestruck idiot you are.

you think maybe jing yuan wouldn’t even think that far. he has far too many important matters to think about, matters that concern the safety and longevity of the xianzhou luofu.

besides, the two of you have only been together for two years. you’ve known friends who only got engaged five years into their relationship. aren’t yours just like an infant compared to that?

“do you do this every morning or am i just lucky to catch when it happens today?”

his voice snaps you out of your delusions, your hand instinctively jumping back towards yourself. jing yuan laughs at your sudden movement, and you curse yourself for only being able to think about how good he looks when he’s happy like that, when his eyes turn into little crescents and the way his mouth curves much like a child would.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you,” jing yuan says, letting you meet his golden eyes, imitating your earlier position by caressing the side of your cheek, smiling softly at you. “good morning.”

grateful that he doesn’t harp on it, you smile right back, leaning into his palm. “good morning,” you greet, happily accepting his invitation into his arms, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. “do not ever mention that again,” you make sure to tell him, still slightly embarrassed with yourself. “and that was a one time thing.”

jing yuan catches how humiliated you are, with the way you’re pouting and speaking in hushed tones. he chuckles, taking your hand and kissing the back of your palm. “whatever you say, princess.”

it still makes your heart skip a beat—his pet names. it’s either princess, or angel, sometimes love. you love all of them. anything, as long as it’s from him.

“i am curious though,” he says, kissing the top of your head, lingering there momentarily to catch the whiff of your shampoo from the night before. “what were you thinking about? you seem happy.”

you’re not sure whether he means to tease you, because you’re at least sure he knows the rough ballpark. what else could you have been thinking about besides him? still, you entertain him anyway.

“you.”

you feel him stiffen a little before relaxing.

“yeah? what about me?”

you can just feel him smiling to himself, half happy and half teasing you, but mostly the latter. and maybe you’re just overwhelmed with bliss today that you don’t mind sharing, though it takes you a while to compose your erratically beating heart before you can say it out.

“i was just thinking… what it would be like,” you pause, hoping he won’t think you’re getting ahead of yourself, “to be with you forever.”

jing yuan’s fingers don’t stop playing with yours, and he doesn’t stop rubbing your sides with his other hand. it’s his way of assuring you that you’re not stepping over any boundaries, that he doesn’t think you’re too much. it’s his silent way of telling you don’t worry, he loves you.

“that’s what you think about when you watch me sleep, huh?” he chuckles and you know he’s teasing this time.

“jing yuan,” you call his name, strict, tilting up to lock gazes with him, “i swear if you—”

but he takes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, leaning you up to kiss him, and he makes sure it’s a long, deep one—makes sure you know how he feels. despite how it looks, he’s gentle. the pads of his fingers don’t hurt your cheeks and the way he kisses you is soft and slow, because he wouldn’t dream of hurting you. ever.

when he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your kiss-swollen lips, he smiles again, with so much adoration you feel like you can melt away, like he’s your sun and you hopelessly orbit around him, like he’s your entire world.

“saying such sweet things when i’m already hopelessly in love with you,” he pauses, a low chuckle exhaled, “how cruel.”

you bite your lower lip, suppressing a grin. “i only do that as revenge,” you say, playing along.

“oh, do you now?”

“mhm, it’s your fault, really, general, for making me fall so deep so quick,” you confess, feeling your heart soar as he presses your foreheads together. “so i thought you should get a taste of your own medicine.”

jing yuan’s lashes flutter against yours as you both stare into each other’s eyes, completely enraptured. “don’t worry, you already have.”

sometimes, you’re afraid that his feelings for you have gone stale. that perhaps, with all this time apart, maybe he realises that he doesn’t need you, doesn’t want you, would do better without you.

but times like these—times where he anchors you down, lets you remember that he’s human, just like you—you know that it’s not the case. because just like you, he can be so hopelessly in love too. he can dream of you, and think of you endlessly throughout the day. even when he barely has time to correspond with you, even when he’s thinking of ways to prolong peace in your world.

jing yuan will always love you.

he clears his throat when he pulls away, looking sheepishly to the side. “you know, i was afraid of something when i caught you smiling.”

you raise a brow, tilting your head to the side, utterly confused. what would someone like him have to be afraid of?

as though he senses your question, he sits up and rifles through his side of the drawer, and you follow suit, draping your blanket over your own half-naked body. you see him taking something into his palms, hiding it before unfurling his fingers delicately in front of you.

it makes you gasp, makes you feel like maybe your heart has stopped beating for a second.

“jing yuan, what is this?”

the solitaire diamond ring glows radiantly in the palm of his hands, the scalloped band studded with natural white diamonds.

for the first time since you’ve met him, you see him being embarrassed. “exactly what you think it is,” he recovers, taking your left hand in his. “i’ve kept this for a while now, wondering when would be considered the right time.”

it’s hard for you to believe. jing yuan is a highly sought-after man. he has everything anyone would want in a husband—yet here he is, declaring his lifelong love to you. you can’t imagine that the same general who leads the luofu, the same soldier who’s protected everyone and made this peaceful life a possibility, is the same person who says he wants you.

“y/n, i knew i wanted to be with you for our entire lives from that first night we had dinner together,” jing yuan confesses, smiling just thinking about how you’d told him about your family, and about how passionate you seemed about taking care of the orphaned kids around your area. “i’m sorry we don’t spend much time together, but i’m working on that.”

he doesn’t have to apologise—you know it comes with the job. you want to tell him that, but you’re still a little stunned about all of this that you can’t get a single word out.

jing yuan’s golden eyes stare straight at you, the desire and love so apparent it overwhelms you, in a good way. “yesterday, fu xuan asked me something—what would you regret the most if the world ended tomorrow?”

fu xuan? is she in on this?

“and the answer came faster than i thought it would.” he brings the diamond ring up in between your faces, grinning from ear to ear, childlike. “it’s that i didn’t get to spend enough time with you, that i didn’t get to marry you.”

is he really about to do this?

“i don’t want to rush you into—”

“yes.”

it came rolling off your tongue before you can stop yourself, and jing yuan blinks at you, completely speechless, before he breaks out into a wide smile, hand on the back of your neck and pulling you towards him, planting a big kiss on your lips.

(jing yuan finds it amusing how honest you are; it’s one of the qualities he finds most attractive in you. every single day he finds out more and more things about you that makes him fall even more in love. you’re his every weakness and yet his every strength—you’re dangerous, the good kind.)

before he puts the ring on your finger, he pauses and clears his throat. “y/n, be my wife?”

(he figures he should ask properly, even though he already knows your answer. the grin you give him is enough to send him into overdrive, enough happiness to last him the rest of his and your long lifespan.)

“make me your wife, general.”

(and when he puts the ring on your finger, he knows. he knows that you’re it and he’s going to protect you his whole goddamn life. that he’s going to love you like he can love no other.)

“looks like you’re mine forever now, y/n.”

#jing yuan x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jingyuan x reader #jing yuan fluff #hsr fluff #jingyuan fluff #honkai star rail fluff #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #jingyuan x you #jingyuan x y/n #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

[ddejavvu]

Beefy boy James Potter with his girl who just all of a sudden starts avoiding sex. She’s going through a very serious bout of baby fever and she knows she’ll do a quick “wrap my legs around his thighs” if he so much as looks like he’ll cum in her. Like, she sees a cute baby vid on tiktok and she glances at him and gets all shifty before exiting the room. He tries to initiate, and she’s more sensitive than usual, by a lot, but then she flusters and just pulls away and he’s so confused.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

It's always excruciatingly difficult to pull away from James's muscled arms. When they're snaking up your pillow, framing your head to give him leverage on his elbows, making it easier for him to shift himself over you and grind his hips down onto your own.

"Wait," You mumble, words muffled by the kiss James has planted on your lips. You turn your head, his spit-slicked lips smearing over your cheek instead as you push at his hips, "Not- not tonight, Jamie. M'sorry, I'm tired."

"Oh," He backs off, now laying on his side facing you, "Alright, love. That's okay. Sorry."

"It's alright," You give him a breathless smile, detecting a hint of worry behind his eyes that you wish wasn't there, "Just had a long day."

"Mhm," He nods, watching you settle onto your pillow, "I bet, love. Baby was fussy today?"

Your mind rapidly flashes back to settling the infant against your chest, your little niece that you'd been tasked with babysitting for the week. Something so divinely pure had washed over you as the little girl had snuggled up to your shoulder, a big yawn stretching her tiny face and eliciting a gurgle from her throat. When you'd set her down in her crib for a nap you'd felt empty, the ghostly sensation of her pressed against you still lingering in your chest, dragging your heart down.

Babysitting was fantastic, but it left you reeling in terms of your aspirations. All of a sudden you wanted to pop one of those suckers out yourself, nestle into a nuclear family with James that consisted of scallop-cut PB&J's packed into school lunches with lovey notes from mum.

"Hell-ooo," James croons, stroking a large finger against the side of your face, "You in there? I asked if the baby was fussy."

"Oh," You eye his finger warily, tightening your thighs beneath the covers at his touch. You struggle to bring yourself back to the moment, stammering, "Yeah. She fell asleep early, though."

"Nice," James hums, doubt clouding his tone. "Sweetheart, are you alright?"

"Hm?"

"You seem distant," He observes, "Sort of far away."

"Sorry," You breathe, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself, "I- I just.. I've been thinking."

If James is concerned, he tries not to show it. He eases out the muscles in his jaw, nodding encouragingly, "Yeah?"

"Did you want to... I mean- would you ever think about... having kids of our own?"

His eyes widen, not roughly in shock, but dazedly, languidly, "You want to- to have babies? With me? Like- like a family?"

"Yeah," You nod, "Like a family."

"I- I mean," James flounders, blinking hazily, "Are you joking? I'd love to start a family with you. Seriously, I mean, I've thought about it forever, 'just didn't wanna scare you on the first date asking whether you'd want yellow or red for the nursery."

You let out an incredulous laugh, one that eases tension out of your shoulders in waves of giddiness, "Really? You'd want that with me?"

"Darling," He leans forwards to kiss you, firm but chaste - for now - "Why do you think I always linger in the baby clothes section in stores? You really want this?"

"Yes!" You laugh breathlessly, letting him lift himself over you once more, this time in a hug, "Yes, James! I want this, let's- let's have a baby."

Your eyes shine with excitement and his do the same when he pulls back from the crushing hug he'd trapped you in. He holds your hips, "Now?" and you nod vigorously.

"I was afraid I wouldn't let you pull out," You admit breathily, excitement billowing in your belly when James's curls tickle your skin, his lips trailing along your neck, "I thought I'd just cling to you or something, 'didn't want to baby trap you."

"Sweetheart," James laughs sympathetically, hips putting a steady pressure on your own as he kisses up your chin to your lips, "Think I might'a cum double if you'd done that."

"Then I'll do it now," You pant, thighs parting to wrap around James's waist as he slowly grinds his bulge over your panties, "C'mon Jamie, 'need you now."

"Easy," The man hums, sucking gently at a spot on your neck that makes your hips buck, "We're not fucking, we're making love. We're going slow tonight, darling, gonna savor every inch of you."

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction

[kpopnstarwars]

Warriors: Choi San x Reader

A/N: ohh boyyy after the kpop fanfic drought im back and it's with warriors au choi san

Summary: San and Reader are mages, which means they are made to serve. They are lowborn, destined to obey humans - the nobles and the highborn - with their every breaths. What if they don't want that?

tw: 18+, smut (p in v, fingering, cockwarming sort of), swearing, violence, death, blood, minimally gory at one point, war, child soldiers (14 yo), society is a shit place to be if you're a mage, tons of worldbuilding, assassins, freaking bath sex, hint at sa at one point from some dude we hate, san is kind of a brat tamer, seonghwa cameo but sad, idk if you can tell but i suck at summaries, mention of a harem, mention of slavery

wc: 4.8k

As a child, you watched from afar, waiting for things you could not grasp.

They told you that you were made to serve. They recounted age-old tales, about gods that crafted humans in their divine hands, moulding the mages afterwards to be commanded by their beloved creations. They filled your mind with legends of faithful individuals of your kind who proved their worth with obedience until you wished to be like your forebears.

Back when you were but an infant, you believed it. You knew the two powers that were bestowed upon you by the gods, varying in every mage, were gifts made solely to assist the highborns. In your naivety, you thought the rosy flame cupped in your small, childish palms would be used to warm the nobles in the icy winter, and that you would fulfil your purpose through that, through being of use to them. They had no shame as they informed you you were just a tool forged for following their orders, and you were convinced it was all true - until you met San.

Although you were the one with the ability to summon an inferno, he was always the one with a burning fire in his eyes. Like all mages, he’d been taken from his parents the moment he didn’t need his mother’s milk - he was given as a peace offering from the Hwangso warlord for his control of water: helpful for the upkeep of the crops.

This occurred in the small period of time in which Hwangso, the neighbouring province, was attempting to forge alliances with your province, Neugdae. Soon after, your warlord breached their territory, claiming it as his - you often wondered if the news filtering back from the front lines of a new settlement captured ever affected San.

You met him when he was an eight year old filled with bottled fury too old for his years, and you were a quiet, invisible seven year old. At those tender ages, neither of you had developed your second ability yet, nor had you gotten a taste of the power at your fingertips, but San still held his head high; you remember marvelling at the way he’d make a point of meeting every single noble’s gaze and holding it. He was just a scrawny, sun browned kid back then - nothing like the elegant lethality of the man that he is now.

Every day until you turned fourteen, you toiled beside him. The work was cruel, your supervisors crueller; the sun would beat down on your back as you laboured in the fields, side by side with San as barely a quarter of the way across the settlement, the nobles sheltered beneath their silky parasols, boasting their pale, porcelain skin. Back then, San never spoke of the injustice of it all out loud, but something about the look in his eyes when he saw them swanning past stirred something inside you. He made you realise that you were not the soulless, mindless puppet that you’d been told you were, but a person.

It wasn’t simply the rage inside him that drew you to him, though. It was the way he remained sweet, kind, despite it all, making sure to send licks of cool mist down your neck when your supervisors weren’t looking, nicking extra crumbs of food for you and remaining beside you, a beacon of light that anchored you to sanity even in the dark.

Even when, you at fourteen, him fifteen, were sent out into battle.

There were always skirmishes between neighbouring warlords: a constant push and pull for more land, more resources, more power. They would attack on a whim - mages were expendable, nothing more than canon fodder; behind each squadron was a noble who would hang back behind the lines, commanding, unbothered by the bloodshed because it was the blood of mere tools.

By then, both you and San had developed your second abilities. San’s was the ability to manipulate shadows, turning them into almost solid shapes that could physically hinder attacks by forming daggers or clutching hands, or could temporarily block the world out in a shroud of rolling black fog. Yours was the art of shapeshifting; you let the outline of your body flicker between forms, changing into powerful, deadly creatures whose substance was inhabited by the soul of a wavering teenager.

You’d known that you’d be forced to fight since you were young, but you never could have imagined the brutality of war.

It was there, in the midst of the battlefield, that any lingering innocence was burned from your soul. You learned that San’s water did not just bring life, but could also fill up someone’s lungs until they drowned upon dry ground, that your fire was not just a source of warmth or light, but could also combust a man’s heart within his chest, that the animals you were teaching yourself to shapeshift into could maul and break bones.

Many nights, you would fall asleep, curled against San, your face buried in his side with his arm wrapped around you, the taste of blood still in your mouth from where you’d torn your enemies’ throat out with the vicious canines of a tiger or the needle sharp fangs of a lynx. You would leave the front lines soaked with crimson, the essence of other people in your hair, smeared on your face, caked and drying under your nails.

It terrified you, how easily you could slice their flesh open with your claws. Armour was not wasted on mages, only generals, so just like you, all they wore were roughly woven tunics tied at the waist and trousers - you met no resistance when you killed your own kind, silent apologies on your lips.

Within the squadrons were also humans that had fallen from grace - criminals who still felt entitled enough by their birthright to think they could have a fourteen year old mage’s body; San protected you until you could protect yourself. In the first few weeks, when the punches he threw were too weak to deter them, he would let them beat him, giving you time to escape before returning to you, limping, lip split and nose bloody but the fire in his eyes never faltering.

On those nights, tears of frustration would leak from the corners of your eyes as you cleaned him up. He could so easily stop them if he used his abilities, but by then doing that without being instructed to do so by a highborn would lead to a flogging or a beating - fairytales no longer worked on you at that age, so your commanders and generals utilised fear mongering instead. You remember the hate and helplessness burning inside you when you looked at them: if all the mages rebelled at once, the nobles would have no chance, but everyone was too scared. Using your abilities on humans only led to execution.

You remember Seonghwa: he was a mage a few years older who cared for you and San as if you were his blood. He got too strong - you can’t recall his second ability but his first meant he could push a man over the brink of insanity, until he frothed at the mouth and his brain boiled within his skull. When you first witnessed the depth of his power, you were originally struck by the pain in Seonghwa’s eyes, and then by the fear in your commander’s.

The next day, Seonghwa was gone.

Often, you wonder if he fought back, or if he just let them kill him.

After, you made San promise that he wouldn’t show them if his powers developed further. He made you promise the same, and when you fought beside him, he was a constant reminder to reign yourself in, to survive. You were more careful with your powers from then on.

Some nights, though, when the frost ridden night air cut right through the ragged material of your blanket, you huddled next to San and lit a small fire in your hands. He’d tell you to stop, and you’d point out that he was shivering; he’d reply that he’d rather that than get you caught, and you would ignore him, not missing the way he tucked himself closer to the flame.

You didn’t tell him, but sometimes you would shift into a small animal, like a raccoon, and steal food for him in the dead of night. You didn’t answer when he asked you where you got it from, just shrugging and thrusting the rolls of bread and strips of dried meat into his hands, telling him he should eat.

When you were sixteen, San discovered he could animate his shadows. He could mould them like clay in his hands, breathing purpose into them - they would disintegrate within about a week or so, their outlines fading until they dissolved into nothing. San shaped a little dragon for you, the length of your forearm and the width of one of your thumbs; he came to you with it cupped in his hands, awe limning his face as the two of you watched it wriggle through the air between you and coil itself around your wrist.

You have many memories of those times, but one remains crystal clear, even to this day. A year onwards from San’s dragon, you found yourself hemmed in by enemy forces, your body tired from the fight - victory was so close for your side, and because of it, the Hwangso fought even harder, like cornered animals. If you broke through them, you would have been able to easily end their commander, but they had you, six to one. Hands closed around your throat, choking, and as the consciousness bled from you, you heard San’s cry, smelt the fear in the air as he tore through them to get to you: that in itself would have been insignificant - you had saved each other countless times through the years - but he had disobeyed a direct command.

He’d been told to kill the commander. He’d had a clear shot, and even still, he’d ignored orders, choosing to save you instead.

Both of you were beaten for it, and even as you heard the sound of San’s ribs cracking, he held your eyes, silently telling you that he’d do it over and over again, if only to keep you with him.

You think that was the moment when the two of you truly got a taste for rebellion. It was the point in the long, winding thread of your life that made you realise that whatever they told you, you would disregard it if it were for San. Their words no longer had as much power over you, because you knew your bond with him was infinitely stronger than any fear they attempted to instil within you.

Soon after that incident, your commander retired, and he was replaced by a man who was more of a fool than him. You began to lose land to Hwangso’s troops, far enough that the settlement where you grew up in was ravaged, razed to the ground. Your commander informed you that you’d evacuate the highborns, leaving the child mages and the servants behind because they would only slow you down - that was the moment you decided to stop listening to him.

The last mage rebellion had been decades ago - they were not ready. It was pathetic how easy it was to overthrow them; together with the rest of the troops and the mages from the settlement, you rebuilt the town and fortified it. San treated his soldiers with respect, with loyalty, and they loved him for it, for the way he would march into battle with them instead of cowering at the rear, for the way he could often be seen in the newly restored fields, watering the crops, for the way he recognised them for who they were.

To this day, you’re in awe of it. Never in your whole life have you come close to anything but fear for a leader, and yet you see it clear in their eyes that they love San, and that he loves them. He is everything that the highborns fear - a powerful, confident mage, wreathed in righteous shadows, fiercely intelligent, a master of strategy.

One of his first moves was to ally himself with the Hwangso warlord, the very man who had given him as a gift to your province. Deep in the highborn’s eyes was the presumption that he could break San and make him yield, followed a month later by pure terror when you held a knife to his neck, hissing to never speak of San like that again. The two of you brought his head in a sack to Hwangso and claimed your rule over the province.

That didn’t mean it was easy, though. There were the nights when San would tremble in your arms, baring his fears to you, his doubts - that it was getting too much too fast: that maybe he really was just made to follow orders. You scoffed at that - you’d seen him grow up, watched his shoulders broaden and his figure fill out with muscle, you’d seen the fire in his eyes blazing with passion; you knew he’d always be more than enough.

You’re not sure when the love blossomed between the two of you. Maybe it was always there, first shown as fierce protectiveness, later as searing kisses where no one could see, of fingers laced with yours in the dark of night. He married you shortly after he began to be recognised as an actual warlord, not a rogue mage; it was a quiet ceremony, but the celebrations of your people were far from that - rumours of the Neugdae province’s mage warlord and his wife rippled like wildfire through the regions, stirring fear and hope alike.

Some wonder why San does not take more wives - he has control over the Baem province as well Neugdae and Hwangso now, and any warlord with that much power would take on a harem without blinking. Not San, though - he’s different from them, he is a mage, a lowborn, his bronzed skin a sign to them of his childhood in the fields, and they find he is an enigma, as is his mystery shrouded right hand man.

But not to you - you understand him as if you share a soul.

On the surface, you are his only wife, aloof and coldly beautiful. In the shadows, you are his sword, his hand. There are myths of you, of the fire wielding ghost that robes itself in a black cowl and changes its skin into a man’s worst nightmare; stories of how you will twist your victim’s thoughts around until he finds the tip of a blade poking out of his chest, speared right through his back. It’s how you prefer to operate - they fear the unknown, and you are the unknown.

The fabric of the bag held in your fingers is soaked with blood. Within it is the head of the Yong province’s advisor. He was an awful man who deserved what you gave him - in a locked room at the back of his house, you found several young mages, half starved and chained by wrist and ankle to each other and a hook set in the wall. Bile bites at the back of your throat at the thought: you’re lucky you never experienced the uglier side of mage slavery.

Night is falling, the sun casting long shadows down the road. You always find the darkness comforting - it feels as if San is near. Today he is; you raise your fist and knock thrice on the solid wood of the gates, lifting your hand in recognition of the guards who peek over the turrets.

Slowly, they ease open the doors, and you stride into the courtyard, your boots clicking against the roughly hewn pavings. A squadron of your soldiers are sparring, but they halt their training when you enter, snapping to attention as you stop at the centre of the space, the dying rays of the sun streaming down the steps towards you, the air still as you wait.

He appears, his gilded silhouette glorious at the top of the stairs. His shadow guards spill down the steps towards you as he descends; their bodies contort and bend, the swirling mass of them parting around you, liquid night, jaws snapping, circling you until you’re surrounded.

A smirk pulls at your lips, and you throw the bag at his feet. You do not bow low, simply dipping your chin as he extracts the head from the sack, inspecting it and nodding before returning it to its roughly woven grave and handing it to one of his shadows to take away. Meeting your eyes, his own filled with amusement, the hint of a smile flashes over his face.

‘Welcome home, my love.’

San’s words are soft, voice quiet enough for only you to hear. You suppress the urge to pull down your mask and kiss him, instead letting your fingers brush against his as you walk with him up the steps and into the hanok; his shadows close the door behind you and the moment they do, he hooks an arm around your waist and hugs you tight, his embrace warm and sweet as always.

You laugh. ‘I was only gone four days, Sannie.’

‘Four days too long for me to be separated from my wife,’ he replies, pushing your cowl back so he can kiss your forehead.

Gripping his shoulders, you tug him down so you can peck his lips before sending him out to the courtyard again - you’re the last person expected through the gates tonight, so he should go out and dismiss the mages training in the courtyard so they can go home to their families and lock up. A happy sigh leaves you as you toe off your shoes, walking through your home and stripping off your bloody clothes before submerging yourself in the pool sunken in the floor. San has already filled it with fresh water, and it takes you mere seconds to heat it up with your fire.

Leaning with your head against the wooden ledge of the pool, you let your muscles loosen, half closing your eyes. The silence doesn’t last long, though - there’s a soft, steady noise coming from the screen behind you, almost like… breathing.

‘Show yourself,’ you command into the still air.

A man steps into view - a human, eyes crazed, knife clutched in his fingers. You realise he does not know who you really are; he just assumes you are the mage warlord San’s wife, delicate and helpless, and you let that role engulf you, backing away to the other edge of the pool with your eyes wide, luring him closer.

‘Your man took everything from me,’ he spits, blade pointed at you as he stalks forward. ‘He took my power, my wealth, my squadron of soldiers. And now I will take his wife.’

Surging out of the pool, you dodge the swipe he aims at you, sending fire surging down the knife’s handle so he drops it with a cry and twisting his arm behind his back in the most painful way possible, wrenching him down to his knees with his face an inch above the water.

‘How did you get in?’ You ask coolly.

‘I’ll never tell y - ’

You send tongues of flame licking down his ribs. ‘Answer the question or suffer.’

The door eases open, revealing San. His eyes land on you, water dripping down your body as you pin the man to the floor, then the distorted reflection from the blade of the knife that’s fallen into the pool, and something dangerous flashes inside his gaze. You let him grab your attacker by the front of his shirt, lifting him off his feet as he brings him face to face with him; you see San’s jaw clench, his hands balling into fists.

‘How fucking dare you try to come anywhere near my wife,’ he growls, shadows coalescing behind him.

You can tell he’s about to say something else, but he stops as the man, trembling and fruitlessly clawing at San’s fingers, wets himself. Your husband’s lip curls in disgust, and he drops him at your feet, pressing him down onto his knees and yanking his head up so he is forced to look up at you. Bending down, you breathe in the sheer fear permeating the air, a soft smile on your face.

‘Now, answer the question.’

‘You’re not his wife,’ he whispers, pale.

‘Oh, but I am,’ you sneer. ‘But that’s not the only role I occupy.’

Slowly, his face drains of colour, horror rippling across it as it slowly dawns on him. He recoils in San’s grasp, scrabbling at the floor in a sorry attempt to put distance between you; he has finally realised who you are and he acts like fucking coward, his mouth gaping wide in a silent plea. Unhurried, you fish the knife out from the pool, twirling it around your thumb before gliding it gently over the skin of his throat.

‘I’m getting impatient.’

‘I - I - the guards, they were distracted upon your arrival, I snuck in at the southern perimeter, please don’t - ’

His words dissolve into a weak gurgle when you slice open his throat. Blood gushes from the seams of the wound, dribbling from his lips, and you step back as he tips forward, landing with a wet thump face first on the wooden floor. Glancing up at San, you sigh before getting back in the pool. One of his shadows carries the body away and your husband tugs his clothes off and slides into the water beside you, pulling you into his chest.

‘He did not hurt you, I presume?’

You snort. ‘He tried.’

San’s fingers run thoughtfully up and down your arm. ‘I’ll talk to the guards. I probably shouldn’t have put Jisung on dusk duty while he was recovering from that fever.’

You nod but don’t answer, instead pressing a kiss to his collarbone. He hums, tipping his head back to give you more access as you mouth at his skin, letting your palms wander over his shapely chest, grip his broad shoulders, skim his waist; you trace the many scars all over his body, and he allows you to, his strong hands gripping your hips when you settle in his lap.

He curses low at the feel of your teeth sinking into the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, his hips jerking upwards, and you both groan at the sensation of the underside of his cock grazing your clit. Smirking, you let your tongue lave over the spot where you bit, pressing a kiss to his jaw and pulling back as his hands tighten their grip on your ass.

‘Missed you too, Sannie. Good to know how much you missed me.’

‘So fucking bratty,’ he hisses.

A thrill shoots through you as he stands, the water sluicing in rivulets down the planes of his chest, lifting you and laying you on the edge of the pool, pinning your knees to the wood and spreading you open. The crude way he looks at you is all consuming, his eyes surveying you from where he stands with the water to his mid thigh, watching as you pussy clenches at the sight of him towering over you.

San remains there, just looking at you, and you curve your spine, almost whining in attempt to make him touch you without you asking for it. His lips quirk to the side as you squirm, trying to inch your hips down so you can grind against him, but his fingers tighten on you, refusing you.

‘What is it you require of me, love?’

Finding your attempts unsuccessful, you huff, glaring at him. He loves to do this, make you articulate exactly what you want from him - he likes the flush that heats your cheeks, your body still shy even after all your years with him, he likes the breathy noises you make when he forces you to tell him just what you desire when all you can think of is his dick, he likes it when you can’t  help but beg him.

‘Y - your fingers,’ you mumble. ‘And your cock.’

‘Say that louder for me, sweetheart, I didn’t catch the last bit.’

‘Your fingers and your fucking cock,’ you snap - a sorry endeavour at trying to hide how much you love when he inflicts this upon you.

San raises an eyebrow, not moving to touch you. Waiting.

‘Please,’ you add.

He smiles. ‘There we go. Wasn’t so hard, was it?’

Your mouth opens to retort, but he slips his fingers inside you, and your back bows, a soft moan leaving your lips as he sweeps his thumb over your clit, his other hand palming your breasts, his tongue dragging over your skin. Burying your hands in his hair, you tug, making him groan low and deep as you pull him closer.

Delectably, his fingers curl, and you ache for him. San has ruined you for anyone else, he is branded onto your soul and also your body, fading marks from your last time together still slightly visible on your throat - a necklace of love bites, laying claim to you. He catches your chin as he brings you closer to the edge, tasting your moans on his tongue, grinding his palm against your clit.

You keen, coming hard around him, chest heaving, and he smirks, holding your waist as shudders wrack your legs from the aftershocks. The fire in his eyes burns ever brighter, so hot you feel your stomach go molten - your hands tighten on his shoulders, nails raking over his back, your tongue unable to form anything other than his name.

‘You’re always so willing to behave once your pussy’s full, hm?’

‘No, I,’ you start, but cry out when he pinches your clit in warning, the muscles of your thighs jumping as it lances through you, white hot. ‘Y - yes, yes, I am, please - ’

In one fluid movement, San buries himself inside you, sheathing himself until his hips kiss yours. Catching you wrists in his hand, he pins them above your head, and your back arches as he pulls out, agonisingly slowly, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging on your walls before slamming back in, tearing a cry of his name from your chest. Tugging your legs up from where they were wrapped around his waist, he hooks your knees over his shoulders - the new angle makes you sob, writhing beneath him as his cock head drives into perfection, drives you to euphoria.

Sometimes, San makes love to you, but not tonight: tonight he fucks into you mercilessly, traces of possessiveness lacing his actions as he litters your skin with bites, his hands leaving exquisite bruises on your hips. Pleasure tears through you like an arrow through your heart, white hot and maddening, ravenous.

‘You fit around my cock so well,’ he pants. ‘Like you were made for me, sweetheart.’

Something snaps inside you at his words, and as if he senses it, San presses his thumb down hard on your clit, speeding up his thrusts until the air is punched from your lungs. Stars flash before your eyes, and your mouth falls open, toes curling as you come on his cock, your cunt convulsing around him, thighs twitching; he doesn’t stop, just continues ploughing into you, and you tremble, tears slipping down your cheeks at the relentless pound of his hips into yours.

With a gasp, he pulls out and comes over your stomach, his wide shoulders rising and falling with heaving breaths, and you groan as he eases you back into the warm water, a hand cupping the back of your neck as he tucks your head under his chin, sliding his softening cock into you again. Wrapping your arms around him, you press a kiss to his jaw and rest your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

‘How do you feel, my love?’

You nuzzle your face into his shoulder. ‘Good. Really fucking good.’

He laughs, and you bask in the sound of his happiness and the comfort of his warm skin against yours. San’s hands run up and down your spine, soothing, and you smile sleepily; you are home, reunited with your other half, the missing part of your soul.

With San, you are complete.

#choi san #san #ateez #san smut #san fanfic #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #san x y/n #san x reader #san x you #ateez x you #warriors san #san warriors #ateez x y/n #ateez x reader #atz #choi san x reader #imagine dragons #choi san x you #choi san x y/n #warriors

[helloparkerrose]

#catholicism #roman catholic #catholic church #catholic #divine infancy #Infant child of Prague #child jesus

[gobbogoo]

"It's Been A While, Morgott"

To me, this moment of tenderness all but confirms that Godfrey must have visited his Omen children in their sewer prison.

Consider everything we know about Godfrey. He actively venerated the Crucible and its primal manifestations. His knights wore helms decorated with horns and utilized its animalistic magic:

Even after the Crucible fell from favour, these knights were tolerated right up until Godfrey was banished. Therefore Godfrey must have been preserving them even despite Marika's decrees. This makes sense, because Godfrey was born in the ancient era when the Crucible's wild power was considered a blessing, not a curse:

"A vestige of the crucible of primordial life. Born partially of devolution, it was considered a signifier of the divine in ancient times, but is now increasingly disdained as an impurity as civilization has advanced."

To Godfrey, his Omen sons would not have been something to revile. This is supported by the fact that their horns weren't excised. I doubt it was Marika's choice, since she had turned against the Crucible by then. It MUST have been at Godfrey's behest. Likewise, who else could have commissioned THIS?

A "memorial fetish fashioned in secret" that CLEARLY depicts Morgott. Someone CARED about this secret Omen infant. Enough to memorialize their their existence at the risk of the entire Golden Order. It literally ONLY could have been Godfrey.

Lastly, there's the circumstances of Godfrey's banishment. Most people say he was simply cast aside after he ran out of enemies to fight, but this CAN'T be all there was to it, because Raya Lucaria still existed. A FAR better explanation is that Godfrey began to show signs of disobedience. Godfrey was a man of instinct and emotion. Could such a man have sat idle while his children were imprisoned and his comrades reviled by the very order HE helped build?

No. And so Godfrey began to visit his Omen children in secret, where he told them stories of their lineage and their origins. In Morgott his stories instilled a Lord's sense of duty for the Erdtree and everything it could be.

In Mohg, his stories instilled an Omen's sense of pride for the Crucible, and everything it once was.

Until Marika learned of her husband's treachery, and the Omen Twins never saw their father again.

EDITED IN EXTRA OBSERVATION:

Someone pointed out that Serosh exists to channel Godfrey's emotions, and what's the first thing we hear/see when we approach Godfrey holding his son? Serosh roaring in anger. Beneath that kingly countenance, Godfrey is a lot more distraught than he's capable of showing.

#Elden Ring #Morgott #Margit #Godfrey #queen marika #marika #elden ring morgott #elden ring margit #elden ring mohg #mohg #mohg lord of blood #morgott the omen king #godfrey the first elden lord #elden ring theory #elden ring lore #margit the fell omen #the crucible #crucible knight #elden ring omen #elden ring crucible

[writers-potion]

Plant Symbolisms 🌱🌿🪴

Flora have a special corner in literature.

Starting from the Greco-Roman period when certain plants were representative of gods (like olive trees for Athena), plants have meant more than just a source of food or pleasure.

Lotus - Symbol of creation, rebirth, and the sun. The blue lotus represents spiritual enlightenment, while the white lotus symbolizes purity.

Papyrus - Represents prosperity, growth, and regeneration, often associated with the Nile River and the goddess Isis.

Mandrake - Associated with love, fertility, and aphrodisiac properties.

Poppy - Symbol of sleep, healing, and regeneration, often associated with the god of sleep, Hypnos.

Rose - Represents love, beauty, and the goddess Aphrodite.

Jasmine - Symbol of sensuality, love, and spiritual growth.

Palm - Represents victory, triumph, and eternal life, often associated with the god Osiris.

Acacia - Symbolizes resurrection and the afterlife, linked to the god Osiris and the Tree of Life.

Cornflower - Represents fertility, abundance, and regeneration.

Anemone - Symbol of protection, healing, and renewal.

Anemone, garden: Forsaken.

Almond, flowering: Hope.

Balm: Sympathy.

Bamboo: The emblem of Buddha. The seven-knotted bamboo denotes the seven degrees of initiation and invocation in Buddhism.

Bay leaf: I change but in death.

Bell flower, white: Gratitude.

Bluebell: Constancy.

Broken flower: A life terminated, mortality.

Buttercup: Cheerfulness.

Calla lily: Symbolises marriage.

Campanula: Gratitude.

Carnation, red: Beauty always new

Chrysanthemum: I love.

Clover, white: Think of me.

Clover, four-leaved: Be mine.

Cinquefoil: maternal affection, beloved daughter.

Convolvulus, major: Extinguished hopes or eternal sleep.

Coreopsis, Arkansa: Love at first sight.

Crocus: Youthful gladness.

Cuckoo Pint: Ardour.

Cypress tree: Designates hope.

Daffodil: Death of youth, desire, art, grace, beauty, deep regard.

Daisy: Innocence of child, Jesus the Infant, youth, the Son righteousness, gentleness, purity of thought.

Daisy, garden: I share your sentiment.

Dead leaves: Sadness, melancholy.

Dogwood: Christianity, divine sacrifice, triumph of eternal life, resurrection.

Fern: Sincerity, sorrow.

Figs, Pineapples: Prosperity, eternal life.

Fleur-de-lis: Flame, passion, ardour, mother.

Flower: frailty of life.

Forget-me-not: Remembrance / true love.

Furze or Gorse: Enduring affection.

Grapes: represent Christ.

Grapes and leaves: Christian faith.

Harebell: Grief.

Hawthorn: Hope, merriness, springtime.

Heartsease or Pansy: I am always thinking of you.

Holly: Foresight.

Honeysuckle: Bonds of love, generosity and devoted affection.

Honesty: Sincerity.

Ivy: Memory, immortality, friendship, fidelity, faithfulness, undying affection, eternal life, marriage.

Jonquil: “I hope for a return of affection.”

Lalla: Beauty, marriage.

Laurel leaves: Special achievement, distinction, success, triumph.

Marigold: Grief or despair.

Morning glory: Resurrection, mourning, youth, farewell, brevity of life, departure, mortality.

Mystic rose: Mother.

*some of these flower symbols have Greek or Roman origins but were also used in ancient Egyptian culture.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

🖱️References

https://www.proflowers.com/blog/plant-symbolism-guide

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/396668679699365428/

https://lilysflorist.com/blog/the-symbolism-of-flowers-in-literature-and-poetry-a-look-at-the-hidden-meanings-of-blooms-in-classic-texts/#:~:text=Rose%20%2D%20Represents%20love%2C%20beauty%2C,and%20the%20Tree%20of%20Life.

#writer #writers #creative writing #writing #writing community #writers of tumblr #creative writers #writing inspiration #writeblr #writing tips #writers corner #writers community #poets and writers #writing advice #writing resources #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #helping writers #writing help #writing tips and tricks #how to write #writing life #let's write #resources for writers #references for writers #writer stuff #on writing #flower symbolism #symbols #flower meanings

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Who would you think would most likely to baby trap their barling in Obey me? Take your top four pick and why?

The tactic of baby-trapping is a hefty one. One that pales in comparison to these devils' powers and connection to you with their pacts. In the devil dom, they already have an advantage over you anyway so this is more of a psychological thing. Whether it's to satisfy his psyche or to control yours these are my top picks…

Mammon

He is the avatar of greed 

who better than he to own you in a way that actually manifests a child

“Better off sticking with me! You’ll need my help to raise the coolest little copy of me!” 

Its honestly probably an accident 

But as long as he gets to keep you by his side so be it

At first, he’s just not fully aware of the responsibilities that come with having a baby

And boy is he winded

He can’t run out because you and Lucifer are willing to chain him down to help

So he’ll suffer the long nights and the wailing as you both just get used to raising an infant

But once he gets past the dread he’s elated

Not only does the love of his life stay by his side forever but he has a cute kid to prove it

He won’t tell you that though

“Hah?! Love ‘em? I tolerate the little booger at best! Hey! Don’t hold him like that, you’ve got to be gentle!”

A doting father to the max 

and even being more attentive if not more obsessive with you

“I bet you thought the great Mammon would leave you to rot! Fear not I only left to get takeout…and diapers.”

“Mammon!”

“...and the heads of those demons that were talkin’ bad about ya…”

“Mammon!”

“What?! It was on the way!”

Asmodeus

Oddly enough he does it because of self-esteem 

Whether it's yours or his it's up to you

If it's yours he’s just tired of you looking down on yourself

And using it as an excuse not to be with him

Well if you're so certain you're not the most gorgeous human in existence then why are you pregnant with the child of the most beautiful devil in devil dom

If it's not your self esteem it's his 

Your divine.

He knows it you know it

And so does everyone else 

He’s not afraid of you beating him

He’s afraid of the crowd that follows

“Wow (Y/n)-chan your so popular…they seem to like you an awful lot...”

He’s never felt so insecure about himself before

How will the world know your his 

…better than with a product of your bond

“Wow! Aren’t they the cutest?! They’ve got my looks!” 

Youtuber kid all the way

Your child is more likely to be on more magazine covers than their father himself

Which makes it harder to escape if that was ever an option in the first place

But that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t feel the need to pick off your most avid fans

Especially the fans and theorists that notice your worried gaze and the possessive hold on your hip

“Oya you really captured their emotions that way! Too bad we can’t have you ruining their Winter debutant. Don’t be too sad! You are having the most beautiful demon be the one to end your worthless ugly life.”

Barbatos

Even with your summoner status, he’s a tough demon to beat

The power of time and teleportation are on his side

Which can make for a maddening punishment if you try to escape him

“Oh, so you insist on running, then? Fine but I’m not privy to keep doing this with you.”

Its also just easier to keep your mind on him this way

Since you're so insistent on trying to run he might as well make it impossible for you to do so 

Emotionally at first

This doubles as his claim to ownership and a way to halt you from running ever again

As a butler to the king, everything he has is to serve his master

Even you are allowed to be in his possession its because his master lets him or doesn’t know

But a child

His and your child 

That's something he can fully own

It works with your mind as well

Leaving you to either make the heartless decision to abandon your child 

or to stay and have no choice but to grapple with this constant piece of him 

That is if he lets it get that bad

Again with time as a tool, he can make it so everything he says and does makes perfect sense

“Let’s have a baby, my love. It’d be death all over again if you won’t indulge me.” 

“Oh Barbs, I was thinking just the same!”

Diavolo

Has to be given the idea

It's not going to be his first thought

“Won’t that be cool! Then we could be together all the time! Just the three of us!”

Whether its Barbatos or you scoffing at his behavior something gives him the bright idea

Like most things, he’ll be upfront

He doesn’t really need to stake his claim 

He’s the prince of devil dom 

The very clothes on your back say you belong irrevocably to him

it's more like he believes it’ll make your relationship better

You’ll be more willing to have fun not run if your child demands it

Right?

“Wow! Good job you managed to get them all in perfect order!” 

“Good job!? They killed half the staff for a demented dominoes game!”

“...”

“That's a bad thing!”

“R-right! That's a bad thing just like your mother says!”

#yandere obey me x reader #yandere obey me #yandere mammon #yandere babytrap #yandere asmodeus #yandere diavolo #yandere barbatos #yandere obey me: one master to rule them all #yandere x reader #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere mammon x reader #yandere asmo #yandere asmodeus x reader #yandere barbatos x reader #yandere diavolo x reader #yandere x you #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere harem

[tangledinink]

So. Leo and Donnie grew up under Big Mama's care to eventually become the infamous Gemini in the Battle Nexus... And Mikey has been raised by Baron Draxum to fulfill the prophecy... Well, where's Raph?

(treasure of the shrine) (tireless devotee) (pledged martyr)

enter -> raphael, child of the foot clan

raph grew up under the protective eye of the foot, raised on endless tales of the clan's grand mission and the essential role he would play in it. his value was very clear from the moment he came into the clan's possession as an infant, given the inherent, powerful mystical energy already laying dormant inside him. though he cannot wield any magick himself, he often spends long hours meditating in the clan's shrine, bathing in mystic energy, awaiting the day he can don the dark armor and awaken their master shredder with his life force. as per clan tradition, he was never given a name and is instead officially referred to by his title-- oblation.

though he is just as devoted to his ninja training as any other clan recruit, his future role makes him far too valuable to be sent on missions or risk combat. in fact, he very rarely leaves the safety of shredder's shrine. this doesn't bother oblation, however. he is perfectly content in his role, and proud of what his anticipated sacrifice will achieve. his faith and trust in the clan are absolute and unwavering. however...

though small children are rarely recruited by the clan, there was one other. recruit calls oblation "obby." and obby calls her "cru." they met when obby was nine and cru was ten and have been inseparable ever since, training side by side. though obby is technically considered a higher rank than her, neither of them have achieved full clan membership yet. obby will not earn his place until he completes his one and only mission, and one that he will do entirely on his own-- bring forth the shredder.

(and recruit is loyal. recruit believes fully in the clan's divine mission. recruit will give whatever the foot asks of her. but as obby's promised sacrifice looms ever closer, she finds herself harboring more and more doubt.)

#the promised prize for moving gemini onward #hehehe #gemini au #tw suicide #suicide implication #thats not? really what it is exactly but tw anyway just in casesies #the expectation isnt that raph straight up does a kys #the expectation is that the shredder is gonna suck all his lifeforce out like hes a fckin juicebox and itll definitely suck at a minimum #will there be long term consequences? will he die? who knows #theyre getting him mad beefy and putting so much mystic mojo in him on purpose though #1. better snack for shreddy #2. better survival odds #friendly reminder draxum survived so #but you know anyway #self sacrifice #cults #rottmnt #rottmnt sep au #rottmnt raph #rise raph #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #hamato raphael #foot clan #rise cassandra #rise casey #rottmnt cassandra jones #rottmnt casey jones #rottmnt separated au #rottmnt au

[cryptotheism]

The core of Orphism is the myth in which the titans tear apart and devour the infant Dionysus (called Zagreus at the time) like a sourdough bread bowl. In an act of revenge, Zeus incinerates the titans with a lightning bolt, turning them to ash, and it is from these ashes that humanity is born. The Orphics describe humanity with a dual nature; The Body, (or sôma) born from ash, and the Divine Spark (or psukhḗ) inherited from Dionysus’s incinerated corpse. (He’s fine, Apollo puts him back together.)

I'm writing a book on magic. If you wanna check it out all my drafts are on patreon.