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bestiarium · 2 years

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The Bunyip [Aboriginal mythology]

In the swamps of Australia, there lives a strange and dangerous beast, or at least according to the mythology of the local Aboriginals. Well, I mean, that’s probably true considering it’s Australia, but specifically I’m talking about the Bunyip, a mythical beast.

These creatures were very dangerous and wielded potent magical powers, such as cursing humans to transform into animals and freely changing the water level. It somewhat resembles a seal but its appearance is not set in stone, and what it looks like differs depending on who you ask. This is why modern depictions of the creature are mainly the product of their artists’ imaginations and can range from reptilian monsters to giant monstrous dogs. It also has a terrifying howl and devours any human being who dares to enter its domain.

One myth tells of a group of young Aboriginal men who set out one day to hunt. They were merry and happy as it was a warm sunny day, and they were laughing and talking without a fear in the world. They failed to find game, however, but did come upon a body of water with bulrush growing on the shore. This plant was edible and tasty, so the hunters gathered rushes to weave a basket so they could carry the bulrush roots. One of the men said that he had fishing equipment with him, and that they should try to catch some fish before returning home. Otherwise, the elders would surely laugh at them for doing women’s work if they had woven baskets and gathered plants all day.

The hunting party divided the tasks among themselves: some members gathered bait while others prepared the lines and hooks (which were made from kangaroo bone). When they began to fish, however, none of them could catch a thing. It was already dark, and they had to return back home to the village, when one lad suddenly felt something tug on his line: unbeknownst to the others, he had taken a piece of raw meat with him and used it as bait on his hook. To his surprise, the creature he had hooked was much stronger than him and he had to call his companions for help.

Together, they pulled the strange creature on land: it was a Bunyip. It resembled a cross between a seal and a young cow, but it had a long tail with broad fins for swimming. But the creature, despite its strength, was only a juvenile and soon started howling for its mother. The mother of the Bunyip crawled ashore and the men begged the fisher to release his catch. But the lad – he was the same man who complained about gathering plant roots and weaving baskets – insisted that he would take the young creature back to the village.

The men ran away with the Bunyip, but the mother of the creature didn’t give chase. Instead, they saw the water level rising steadily. When they reached the edge of the valley, they saw the entire forest was flooded. At last they reached the village, and all the people were panicking for they had seen the unnatural sudden flood. The young man who had caught the creature hugged his lover and told her “nobody in the village can climb as well as I can. Join me in that high tree, and we will escape from the water!” but before she could answer, both of them had turned into large black birds. When the lad looked around, he saw that the same fate had fallen on the other villagers: everyone had turned into black swans. Such was the curse of the Bunyip.

When the mother Bunyip reached her young, the two returned to their home in the water, and the water level receded again. But the people of the village never turned back into humans. Sometimes people still hear black swans talking to each other in a strange language that is forgotten by humans.

Source: Dunlop, W. and Holmes, T. V., 1899, Australian Folklore Stories, The Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, 28: p22-34. (image source 1: Kattang on Deviantart) (image source 2: Gerald Markham Lewis, 1935)

#Aboriginal mythology #aquatic creatures #monsters #mythology #myths #mythical creatures #folklore

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alexanderpearce · 1 year

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the way there are TWO alleged cannibal convicts transported to tasmania who both escaped from sarah island, alexander pearce and thomas kent. like you have two to choose from. dream blunt rotation.

thomas kent wasn’t a survival cannibalism guy like pearce was, he was supposedly sweeney todd-ing it up back in england, which is what he was sent here for. he escaped and they found him by a river, now known as the pieman.

#i need a thomas kent gf #and theres this common (less so now) misconception that the pieman is named after alexander pearce...#in what WORLD was he making pies out of people???#in what world did he get that far north??#shut up ulrike #kannibalismus #alexander pearce #thomas kent #tasmania #the myth believed by colonisers at the time that aboriginal people practised cannibalism vs all these fucking white guys in the bush EATING #PEOPLE #?????????????#projecting much.#its pretty hard to find stuff about thomas kent online sigh i should go library

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dejahisashmom · 3 months

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10 of the Wildest Creation Myths in History | Ancient Origins

https://www.ancient-origins.net/myths-legends/wildest-creation-myths-0018116

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cyallowitz · 7 months

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Monster Month: Tiddalik

Google Image Search The Tiddalik comes from Australian mythology and is connected to a popular creation myth. Specifically, this creature comes from the Australian Indigenous Dreaming Stories, which some people call ‘Dreamtime’. To be honest, I couldn’t figure out if some of these terms were correct or born from brutal colonization. That’s not what this post is about, so let’s get to the…

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#aboriginal #Australia #beasts #creation myths #creatures #folklore #frogs #monsters #mythology #october #Tiddalik

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nando161mando · 9 months

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UN agency removes document that states Tasmanian Aboriginal people are extinct

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tenth-sentence · 1 year

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Eventually the baby died, and in her state of extreme grief and anger, Bulthuku lit Thuwathu's ngampirr with a firestick and he was burnt alive inside, with the structure collapsing on him.

"Design: Building on Country" - Alison Page and Paul Memmott

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sauntervaguelydown · 10 months

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#anthropology

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opencommunion · 2 months

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When I refer to zionists as textbook genocide denialists, btw, I'm talking about literal textbooks I was assigned in my genocide studies classes. Here's an excerpt from one, Genocide: A Comprehensive Introduction by Adam Jones, detailing common genocide denialist arguments. I've bolded arguments that I've personally heard from zionists (including ‘neutral’ fence-sitters, who are on the side of the oppressor by default) — during the current Gaza genocide, but also in reference to the entire history of the genocidal zionist occupation. It's important to learn to recognize these arguments and call them what they are, genocide denial, rather than excusing denialists as simply misinformed or misguided.

"Among the most common discourses of genocide denial are the following: 'Hardly anybody died.' Reports of atrocities and mass killings are depicted as exaggerated and self-serving. ... Photographic and video evidence is dismissed as fake or staged. Gaps in physical evidence are exploited, particularly an absence of corpses. Where are the bodies of the Jews killed by the Nazis? (Incinerated, conveniently for the deniers.) Where are the bodies of the thousands of Kosovars supposedly killed by Serbs in 1999? (Buried on military and police bases, or dumped in rivers and down mineshafts, as it transpired.) When the genocides lie far in the past, obfuscation is easier. Genocides of indigenous peoples are especially subject to this form of denial. In many cases, the groups in question suffered near-total extermination, leaving few descendants and advocates to press the case for truth. 'It was self-defense.' 'The onset of [genocidal] killing,' wrote Jacques Sémelin, 'almost always seems to involve this astounding sleight of hand that assimilates the destruction of civilians with a perfectly legitimate act of war. From that moment on, massacre becomes an act of self-defense.' Murdered civilians - especially adult males – are depicted as 'rebels,' 'brigands,' 'partisans,' 'terrorists.' The state and its allies are justified in eliminating them, though unfortunate 'excesses' may occur. Deniers of the Armenian genocide, for example, play up the presence of armed elements and resistance among the Armenian population – even clearly defensive resistance. ... Genocide may also be depicted as an act of pre-emptive self-defense, based on atrocities, actual or alleged, inflicted on the perpetrator group in the past – sometimes the very distant past. Sémelin, for example, has explained Serbs’ 'insensitivit[y] to the suffering they caused' in the Balkan genocide of the 1990s in terms of their inability to perceive any but 'their own woes' ... A substrategy of this discourse is the claim that 'the violence was mutual.' Where genocides occur in a context of civil or international war, they can be depicted as part of generalized warfare, perhaps featuring atrocities on all sides. This strategy is standard among the deniers of genocides by Turks, Japanese, Serbs, Hutus, and West Pakistanis – to name just a few. In Australia, Keith Windschuttle used killings of whites by Aboriginals to denounce 'The Myths of Frontier Massacres in Australian History.' ... Sometimes the deniers seem oblivious to the content of their claims, reflecting deeply embedded stereotypes and genuine ignorance, rather than malicious intent – as with the CNN reporter who blithely referred to the world standing by and 'watch[ing] Hutus and Tutsis kill each other' during the Rwandan genocide of 1994.

'The deaths weren’t intentional.' The difficulties of demonstrating and documenting genocidal intent are exploited to deny that genocide occurred. The utility of this strategy is enhanced where a longer causal chain underpins mass mortality. Thus, when diverse factors combine to cause death, or when supposedly 'natural' elements such as disease and famine account for many or most deaths, a denialist discourse is especially appealing. It buttresses most denials of indigenous genocides, for example. Deniers of the Armenian and Jewish holocausts also contend that most deaths occurred from privations and afflictions that were inevitable, if regrettable, in a wartime context – in any case, not genocidal.

'There was no central direction.' Frequently, states and their agents establish deniability by running off-duty death squads, or employing freelance forces such as paramilitaries (as in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Darfur), criminal elements (e.g., the chétés in the Armenian genocide), and members of the targeted groups themselves (Jewish kapos in the Nazi death camps; Mayan peasants conscripted for genocide against Mayan populations of the Guatemalan highlands). State attempts to eliminate evidence may mean that documentation of central direction, as of genocidal intent, is scarce. Many deniers of the Jewish Holocaust emphasize the lack of a clear order from Hitler or his top associates to exterminate European Jews. Armenian genocide denial similarly centers on the supposed freelance status of those who carried out whatever atrocities are admitted to have occurred.

'There weren’t that many people to begin with.' [*] Where demographic data provide support for claims of genocide, denialists will gravitate towards the lowest available figures for the targeted population, or invent new ones. The effect is to cast doubt on mortality statistics by downplaying the victims’ demographic weight at the outbreak of genocide. This strategy is especially common in denials of genocide against indigenous peoples, as well as the Ottoman genocide of Christian minorities.

'It wasn’t/isn’t genocide, because ...' Here, the ambiguities of the UN Genocide Convention are exploited, and combined with the denial strategies already cited. Atrocious events do not qualify as 'genocide' … because the victims were not members of one of the Convention’s specified groups; because their deaths were unintended; because they were legitimate targets; because 'only' specific sectors of the target group (e.g., 'battle-age' men) were killed; because 'war is hell;' and so on. 'We would never do that.' Collective pathological narcissism occludes recognition, or even conscious consideration, of genocidal culpability. When the state and its citizens consider themselves pure, peaceful, democratic, and lawabiding, responsibility for atrocity may be literally unthinkable. In Turkey, notes Taner Akçam, anyone 'dar[ing] to speak about the Armenian Genocide ... is aggressively attacked as a traitor, singled out for public condemnation and may even be put in prison.' In Australia, 'the very mention of an Australian genocide is … appalling and galling and must be put aside,' according to Colin Tatz. 'A curious national belief is that simply being Australian, whether by birth or naturalisation, is sufficient inoculation against deviation from moral and righteous behaviour.' Comedian Rob Corddry parodied this mindset in the context of US abuses and atrocities at Abu Ghraib prison near Baghdad. 'There’s no question what took place in that prison was horrible,' Corddry said on The Daily Show. 'But the Arab world has to realize that the US shouldn’t be judged on the actions of a ... well, we shouldn’t be judged on actions. It’s our principles that matter, our inspiring, abstract notions. Remember: just because torturing prisoners is something we did, doesn’t mean it’s something we would do.'

'We are the real victims.' For deniers, the best defense is often a strong offense. With its 'Day of Fallen Diplomats,' Turkey uses Armenian terrorist attacks against Turkish diplomatic staff to pre-empt attention to the Turkish genocide against Armenians. In the case of Germany and the Nazi Holocaust, there is a point at which a victim mentality concentrating on German suffering leads to the horrors that Germans inflicted, on Jews and others, being downgraded or denied. In the Balkans, a discourse of genocide was first deployed by Serb intellectuals promoting a nationalist–xenophobic project; the only 'genocide' admitted was that against Serbs, whether by Croatians in the Second World War (which indeed occurred), or in Kosovo at the hands of the Albanian majority (which was a paranoid fantasy). Notably, this stress on victimhood provided powerful fuel for unleashing the genocides in the first place." * Zionists make two demographic claims to deny genocide, and specifically to deny the Nakba: the first parallels what Jones says here — that there weren't many (or even any) Palestinians ("Arabs") in Palestine to begin with, and/or mass expulsions were actually voluntary migration. The second is a reversal, where zionists point to demographic data and claim that Palestinian population growth must mean genocide never occurred (as if genocide survivors aren't capable of having children). For further reading on Nakba denial specifically, Nur Masalha's work is a good place to start, especially The Palestine Nakba (2012), Politics of Denial (2003), A Land Without A People (1997), and Expulsion of the Palestinians (1992).

#library #genocide #zionism

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vintagerpg · 23 days

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Love a monster book. This is Monsters of Myth & Legend (1984) for Mayfair’s Role Aids line of D&D sourcebooks. As the title tells you, this is a collection of monsters drawn from mythology. Four groupings of them are tied to specific cultures: Norse, Irish, Greek, Chinese. Two other draw broadly from the myths of people living in large regions but which belong to many distinct cultures: native American and Aboriginal Australians.

The mix is pretty solid. I particularly appreciate the monsters from Australia, which are often overlooked in this sort of thing — and even here, I can think of a couple more I would have liked to have seen, like the Pangkarlangu (neolithic cannibals), though it is nice to get attributes for Malingee (shadow spirits with burning eyes) and Murgah Muggulu (a kind of dream spider). Weird that there are still some deep cuts from Greece — maenads, mares of Thrace, even Scylla — who don’t have D&D attributes. The China chapter is probably the most robust, providing a variety of spirits and monsters that have multiple potential applications in the game. China also has a giant with no head, which is maybe the most delightful monster in the whole book.

This is maybe one of my favorite Boris Vallejo paintings that were recycled for Role Aids covers. It downplays physique and features a rad monster, both of which seem unusual for Boris. Its more atmospheric, too, a bit more in line with Frazetta, honestly. The interiors are by Teanna Byerts and Robin Wood. I don’t dislike them, but they do seem diminished by tight deadlines, if I had to guess.

#roleplaying game #tabletop rpg #dungeons & dragons #rpg #d&d #ttrpg #Mayfair #Role Aids #Monsters Of Myth And Legend

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absurdthirst · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022: October 5th

Day 5: A/B/O // 69 // Formal Wear

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, jealousy, societal hierarchy, insecurity, mentions of marking/scenting, fingering, vaginal sex, slightly possessive/dominating, unprotected sex, cream pie.

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Most days, you are perfectly fine being a beta. It’s not like you can do anything about it anyway. You are not an omega, as much as your mother pouts in disappointment. You are just who you are and for some reason, there was still an alpha who had taken an interest.

Right now, it pisses you off. Watching through narrowed eyes and rage while the fucking omega draps herself over all over Frankie, your Frankie and covers him in the stink of her essence. It was a myth that Betas couldn’t smell the pheromones that drove the alpha and omega together like some cosmic invisible string. You could, you just weren’t affected by it on a primal level.

Why? Why had she chosen Frankie? There were four other alphas sitting at that table and she chose your boyfriend to flirt with. It makes you want to grab her hand as it drifts across the breadth of his shoulders and twist it, moving those trespassing little fingers away from your man’s scent glands. You aren’t dumb, you know that is where she’s headed.

Sitting behind the bar as you make the drinks, you fume. Most nights, it was amazing that Francisco Morales and his buddies - who you all know and they respect you (even if you’re just a beta) - hang out at your bar. He’s never specifically said you were the reason why, but the alpha surprisingly never shied away from admitting you were his.

Right now though, you hate it. You hate that there is fear and jealousy curling in your gut. Fear that she might be a better fit for him. That there could be some connection between them that you would be powerless to stop. Jealousy that you can’t be as confident as she manages to be, even when you feel like Frankie is just trying to be polite.

Her laughter trills out across the bar room floor, grating to your ears, but it causes several other alphas to turn her way. The stink of attraction is heavy and you can’t even tell what your alpha is giving off because it’s so thick. Jealousy clouds your mind, steals your vision and you don’t see the way that your alpha’s friends try to redirect the omega's attention to them. You don’t see the subtle ways that your alpha is trying to reject her without causing a scene or embarrassing her. You know that omegas being denied by an alpha is tantamount to a slap in the face and she would most likely cry, but you don’t see that.

Slipping out from behind the bar, you rush to the back. Your heart pounds in your chest so hard that the rushing of blood fills your ears. Your shirt smells like him. Normally you love it, bask in the warm comfort that your alpha scents your clothing. He loves smelling himself on you, although he prefers it when you’re both naked and exhausted, sweat and pheromones clinging to your skin while his tongue laps at the area where a scent gland would be - if you weren’t a beta.

There’s a change of clothes in your bag. One that is fresh from the dryer and there is not a hint of Frankie on it. At this moment, it’s what you need. Peeling the shirt over your head, you drop the one that smells like Frankie onto the floor. Rejecting it as though he has already pushed you away. Removing the scent of him from your body and replacing it with another that smells like your detergent. Nothing but the slight whiff of him remains, enough that it would just be brushed aside as the alpha touching you.

You don’t care for the raging turmoil inside you as you stuff the shirt into your bag and slap it back into your locker. The fact that jealousy curdles in your stomach and makes you want to go slap that omega and claim Frankie as your own. You could never do that - it isn’t your place. Biological and social hierarchy dictated that Frankie was unmated with an omega and therefore he was up for the claiming. Tears prick at your eyes and you grind your palms into them, heedless of the mascara that thankfully is waterproof as you try to compose yourself.

When you come back from the employees only section. You don’t see Frankie’s immediate frown. His eyes have been watching for you, always on alert for you. You don’t see the way that his own narrows as he watches you go about pouring more drinks and filling the tickets that are printing off behind the counter. His slight puffed out sigh unheard by you, you’re too far away, but everyone at the table hears it. Including the omega that is still trying to sidle up to him.

Instead, you don’t even look that way, trying not to concentrate on the obvious overtures of the omega. Not wanting to see them work on him. Frankie is a kind alpha, unwilling to command - even you - unless it was life or death and little flirting never killed anyone. Unless it was an alpha flirting with a bonded omega.

When the order for their table comes up, you can tell from the fruity cocktail Benny ordered just for shits and giggles, you decide that you are going to take it over yourself. You don’t miss that there is a sixth drink mixed in with the normal beers and a sex on the beach. It was a cosmo and it made you roll your eyes at how fucking predictable it was.

Plastering on a smile that you know doesn’t reach your eyes, your drinks firmly held up on the tray, you make your way over to the table. “Hey boys, have your drinks here.” Your voice is the model of professional cheer and you ignore the way that the omega looks at you and takes a sniff before dismissing you. Obviously uninterested in a mere beta.

“Yes!” Benny is always one to shoot you a grin and nod, eagerly taking the drink from you. “Thanks beautiful.” His little nickname for you was just to rub Frankie the wrong way, everyone knew it and it was the only reason he hadn’t had the shit beat out of him so far. At least until now. Maybe later, Frankie wouldn’t care that his friend had called a beta beautiful. Not when he would have an omega that adored the ground he walked on and only had eyes for him.

The sniff the omega gives was uncalled for, but you ignore it. Unattached omegas seem to be miffed when any unbonded alpha gives attention to anyone that isn’t them. You don’t understand it, but you couldn’t.

It might be childish, but you make a point to not say anything to Frankie. You don’t slam his beer down, but you don’t hand it to him with a smile and a kiss like you often do. Depositing the beer to the rest of the boys and one obnoxious cosmo to the omega, you turn around and retreat to your area. You don’t catch the way that Frankie leans in to sniff you, that frown from before reappearing when he doesn’t smell himself all over you.

It’s back behind the bar for you. Mixing drinks and interacting with servers. You make sure you keep your attention off the table to your right. Almost studiously ignoring that side of the room. The only reason you ever actually served drinks was people who were sitting in front of you at the bar, or them and right now you can’t handle that.

Because of this, you don’t notice Frankie come up, don’t know he’s there until his hand is wrapped around your wrist and dragging you away. Making you screech slightly in shock but a few regulars know the score so they don’t stop the alpha from dragging their bartender away. You ignore the few catcalls and whistles from some of the crowd and you don’t see the way that omega has slunk away from the table full of Frankie’s friends.

“Fran-”

“Not here.” You can hear the tension in his voice, the barely restraining command. You know he’s never used that alpha tone with you and yet your entire body shivers when you hear the threads of it in his words. He wants to and that makes you fall silent and let him pull you into the bathroom down the dimly lit hall before he locks it behind you.

Before you can say another word, you are crowded against the sink, dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that seems to be reserved for moments where he is about to lose control. Normally it’s to make you scream his name but you don’t know what he is thinking right now.

“Why did you change your shirt?” He grumbles, fingers plucking at your shirt and your heart skips a beat when they graze your skin. “I liked the other shirt on you.”

“Needed to change.” You don’t get into why you needed to change, just that you needed to. You don’t like lying to him, so you don’t say you spilled something on yourself. “It’s fine.”

“No it’s not.” Frankie insists, leaning in more and nuzzling your chin with his nose. “The other shirt smelled like me.”

Your hum of agreement is noncommittal but you don’t say anything, but it grabs his attention. Making him pull back with just the tiniest smirk on his face, the one dimple pressing in slightly underneath his scruff.

“Only one thing to do.” He murmurs, arching a brow before he grabs your waist and spins you around so that you are facing the sink and he is pressing against you. “I need to mark you in my scent.”

You whimper, knowing what he means by that, those dark eyes swirling with lust and mischief. You don’t protest and his grin flashes at you while he starts to pull at your clothes.

Your shirt stays on, of course it would since he wants to make sure you are covered in his scent and obviously the smell of sex. Instead he flicks the button of your jeans open and slides his hands inside.

Your eyes slide shut when he finds your clit but his other hand grips your chin. “Watch.” He growls, making your eyes pop open and you see him watching you in the mirror. “That’s my girl.” His approval sinks straight into your gut and makes your cunt clench.

“You were jealous.” He hums in your ear, that raspy tone low and making you shiver. “I saw it. Saw you try to ignore that omega pushing in on your turf.”

Biting your lip, you don’t answer. You don’t want to tell him that you have no claim. Not like that omega would. Frankie’s jaw clenches and he pulls his hand away from your clit to start stripping your jeans and panties down.

“Fuck Frankie.” You moan quietly. “Here?”

“Here.” He huffs, biting the left cheek of your ass as he stands, kicking your feet apart and you hear his belt buckle as he starts to undo his own pants.

Suddenly, the blunt head of his cock is pressed against your entrance. His arm coming around you while he breaks you open, filling you swiftly and burying himself to the hilt in the heat of your body.

You don’t bother hiding your moan, you can’t. Not when he’s stretching you out so perfectly and his dark eyes are demanding that he hear you. His own ragged groan breathed into your ear and he doesn’t even give you a second before he starts to move.

Pheromones fill the bathroom, surround you, seep into your skin while Frankie pounds into you. Every stroke of his cock fills you and branding you on the inside as his. Punching up into your cunt and making you whimper and whine while he holds tight to you.

“You’re mine.” He grunts into your ear, cock twitching deep in your walls when he voices the comment that has never been spoken out loud between you. “Mine, just- just like I’m yours. Your alpha.”

“Frrrrankie.” Your eyes roll back when he says that. Everything you’ve wanted to hear but hadn’t dared to ask for. You had assumed your place, even as brash and ballsy as you were, you didn’t dare to object to societal norms.

“I am yours.” He moans, teeth biting down on your ear and he whines while he grinds deep to change the pace. His hands hold you, squeeze your breasts over your shirt and he makes sure he is scrubbing the scent glands at his wrists all over the fabric. He starts to spear up into you again, fast and hard. “I don’t want that omega. She’s- she can’t make me feel what you do.”

Your head drops back onto his shoulder, eyes closed. “Open your eyes, baby.” He hums, growling when you don’t respond. “Open your eyes.” He never calls you ‘beta’. Never using your designation against you. You had thought it might be because he was embarrassed that you were merely a beta…but now…looking into his eyes has you realizing that he never used it because he respects you.

You watch. Watching as he takes you. Every harsh jolt of his hips pushing your orgasm closer. “Gonna knot you.” He grunts. “Later, when you’re ready.” Knotted by him, an alpha. Bearing his children.

You don’t know why, but it makes you cum. Clenching down around his thick length, you scream out his name and not caring if the entire bar hears you. Gasping for air when your voice dies off and your body shaking while Frankie thrusts into you harder. His hips slapping against your ass and he’s beautifully feral as he chases his own release.

Hissing your name when he falls apart. The thick heat of his seed flooding your core and filling you. The pungent scent of his pleasure covering you, marking you a scant second before his teeth press to your skin, right where a scent gland would be if you were an omega.

Whining, you shudder and cling to him, knowing that if you had a scent gland it would now bear his mark. Proclaiming to all omegas and alphas that you were his.

His eyes are hazy when he finds yours in the mirror again. Filled with satisfaction and pride. His voice is rusty with lust but clear when he speaks. “Omega or not - I’m yours.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #frankie morales #alpha frankie #a/b/o #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales imagine

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dailydemonspotlight · 3 days

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Yurlungr - Day 46

Race: Snake

Alignment: Neutral-Chaos

June 3rd, 2024

You know what the term Pride Month has if you squish it together a bit? Demon! Hell yeah, it's time to get into a serpent with all the colors of the rainbow to please our gay overlords. Please welcome the snake, the myth, one of the most famous deities in Australian mythology, and an absolute favorite demon of mine, Yurlungur! Originating from Aboriginal mythology, a criminally underrepresented mythos in several series (SMT included, unfortunately,) Yurlungur is the primary deity depicted in several breakout tales from this relatively unknown set of stories, a winding copper snake known for bringing rainfall and life in tow.

Yurlungur, better known as the Rainbow Serpent, is an incredibly important entity in Australian mythology, being an archetypical 'Mother Nature' of sorts. As its origin story goes, it was the creator of the land and sea, and could bring great prosperity- however, if one were to bother it, that prosperity would come crashing down, as it was a force of nature in more ways than one. Interestingly, Yurlungur is only one epithet of several given to the Rainbow Serpent, as several other cultures in Australia at the time gave it different names in spite of having it as one, overarching force. For instance, the Galpu clan called it 'Witij', while a similar deity typically purported to be the Rainbow Serpent in Queensland is named 'Kanmare.' Several more names make up this ranking, but given that Yurlungur is the most widespread epithet, given by the Murngin, I'll keep referring to it as that. Just keep in mind that, in further research, many sources may call it different things, so give your thanks to the fact that there were so many Aboriginal cultures out there.

According to anthropologists, the snake is heavily associated with the concept of 'The Dreaming,' an incredibly important bag of worms in Australian mythology- the idea of The Dreaming, or Dreamtime, is a romantic worldview of times before our own wherein great heroes and monsters resided, where supernatural threats were vanquished by not gods but mortal men who were simply revered as legends. During this time, it's believed, the Rainbow Serpent was most active- it gave blessings to humanity and curses to those who dared to break the law of nature, being the ultimate protector of mankind above all. Even past the time of Everywhen, however, the Serpent still lives on; a beautiful concept related to it, in my opinion, is the idea that each rainbow is simply a trail left behind in the sky as it flies from area to area.

The most prominent myth about the Serpent... isn't really one I wanna touch, frankly, given that it makes me a bit squeamish, but oh well. As the tale goes, a pair of sisters, the Wawalag sisters, to be exact, travel the land in search of civilization, as one is pregnant. Then, the one who was pregnant ends up giving birth, whereafter the blood from the agonizing process ends up trailing into the Rainbow Serpent's watering hole. Likely perturbed, the snake ends up following the scent of blood to the sisters now taking shelter in a hut, invades in the dead of night, and eats them and the newborn they were now carrying. Satisfied with its revenge, it tries to head back home... and then is bitten by an ant, the act of which makes it throw up.

This action makes the regurgitated bodies of the three turn into Arnhem Land, a term for the northern section of Australia, wherein the Serpent speaks and tries to make right for its action by helping the people who move there. Yeah. I don't know either. I think this story is meant to be a metaphor for the creation of a family, but...??? Yeah, I don't know. Sue me. That (frankly bizarre) story aside, though, the Rainbow Serpent actually does stand as a favorite in terms of Mythology for me, and it's all down to the fact that it's so unique- and almost cute.

Nature deities are no small part of any tapestry or pantheon, but something about Yurlungur just tickles me. It may be its role as an embodiment of the rainbow itself, it may be just down to my love of snakes and rainbows, it may even just be down to the fact that Aboriginal folklore is underrepresented in so many faucets, but the Rainbow Serpent is a favorite deity of mine even in the star-studded halls of gods. It has a unique purpose as a creator god, a mother god, a nature god, the lord of the rain and weather, and being a snake, all the while having a cool sheen and an interesting look. I love Yurlungur to bits. All of that aside, though, how is it represented in SMT?

I love it. Full stop. Thanks for readi- no, no, I'm joking, but this design is easily in my top 10. Not only is it rainbow, not only is it adorable, but it's accurate and unique! It brings something entirely new to the table while still being a fantastic representation of the Rainbow Serpent itself, as the etching and patterns on it give it a vibe that makes it feel uniquely spiritual, in a way. It also makes the snake stand out among its peers. This is how you do a god-snake design, Quetzalcoatl! It's a perfect rainbow to start off Pride Month, and I hope you all enjoy this demon as much as I do.

Overall, while the mythology surrounding Yurlungur is a bit... strange? It has a beautiful design, represents an incredibly romantic ideal, and is definitely deserving of being the demon of the day.

#shin megami tensei #smt #megaten #persona #daily #HAPPY PRIDE MONTH

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dapurinthos · 2 years

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more about blood of eden naming because i have sunk my teeth into it, especially on how they use the names of destroyed and mythical places.

the wings/cells

merv: also alexandria, antiókheia in margiana, marw al-shāhijān. located in iran. inhabited from c. 2000BCE, a holy site to zoroastrians, one-time capital of the islamic caliphate, razed to the ground in 1788/9.

ctesiphon: also tyspwn, ktesiphōn. located in iran iraq (sorry, my geography of this area begins with sumerian cities and ends with aššur). founded c.120BCE, capital of the parthian, sasanian empires. besieged in the battle of al-qādisiyyah in 637CE, became a ghost town afterward.

troia: troy, illios, wiluša. the one heinrich schliemann “““excavated”““. located in turkey. inhabited from c. 3600BCE, the troy, the one we all know, hektor, akhilleus, kassandra. the milawata letter. destroyed multiple times over the millennia, the last being in thee roman era.

lemuria: mythical lost continent beneath the indian ocean, proposed by philip sclater, later appropriated by occultists. identified with the lost continent of kumari kandam by some tamils, which is believed to be their ‘cradle of civilization’ where the population was solely tamils.

mu: also a mythical lost continent, name also used interchangeably for lemuria and atlantis, the product of the mind of augustis le plongeon.

further, we see we suffer use the following names for other military cells in chapter 27:

saaftinge, zoar, birmingham, maputo, taree, memphis, taksa, calakmul, valencia, opava, dundee

normal cities, to us. however, to the people of blood of eden, these are all mythical, lost places regardless of the reality of merv, tyspwn, and wiluša. they are at a remove of ten thousand years. they are in the space between the fall of roman troy and the re-discovery of it, though there can be no rediscovery, only stories. much like australian aboriginal stories stretch back before certain parts of australia were underwater, blood of eden preserves the names of places that have been obliterated by the nuclear bombs, by whatever john continued to do to earth to have it so completely covered by water except for canaan house.

‘the flood, you know? You can wash things clean. that’s all the end of earth was … making things clean’, says john, and that’s what he did. he re-enacted the story of atra-hasis, of utnapištim, but there was no one to speak through the reed wall to save humanity even though, through the ages, it is very likely that the story of john destroying the earth became their new flood myth, their ‘god decided the world was too populous and was going to destroy it, and we are the chosen people who managed to survive.’ the whole of earth is mu, is lemuria.

#nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #blood of eden #LOOK I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT WHAT BOE'S MYTHOLOGY MUST BE LIKE #also about how the greek flood myth might tie in because one of the survivors is named PYRRHA

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