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eilidh-eternal · 5 months

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Between @peachesofteal, @ceilidho and @charliemwrites I have been plagued with mind rotting thoughts of manipulative!Johnny and I wrote this in a feverish haze

So uhhhh yeah, here’s 1.8k words of Johnny being an overbearing and possessive menace to reader

This will be part of a larger collection of works The Wild Hunt Masterlist

This is a dark fic, 18+ MDNI, descriptions of kidnapping, coercion and mentions of death below the cut

Snow falls beyond the frosted window panes, flickering like static in shafts of warm-hued lamplight and collecting in powdery, white drifts. The picturesque cityscape and the dissonant overlapping of conversation coming from the gathering of family and friends in a quaint town house decorated for the upcoming holidays feels like something plucked out of a cliché holiday romcom. Except this isn’t a yuletide gathering, and the congregation of familiar faces is one less tonight.

This is a wake. And an odd one at that.

You didn’t believe in the myth that deaths are more frequent around the holidays, and you certainly didn’t believe in a black cat that eats the souls of the recently deceased if you don’t throw a proper party with games and drinking, and enough food to feed a small army, at the wake. But this is Scotland, and the country is teeming with myths and superstitions.

So, here you sit. Curled into the corner of a sofa with a glass of… something. You’ve been told it’s like eggnog, done the Scottish way.

Great aunts, uncles, cousins several times removed and friends of the deceased distant relative all nurse their own glasses of the festive drink, and various recounts of fond memories are shared amongst the group gathered in the living room. There’s one voice that stands out among the others, and you watch with reserved interest as the mohawked man it belongs to tells his story. It’s a little louder, with more bravado than the rest, narrating his memory with a jubilance that belies great fondness.

You’d never met the man everyone was reminiscing about, only came tonight because a cousin on your fathers side—the Scottish side—had cajoled you into going with her to the wake so she’d have someone to talk to besides her mother. You didn’t understand why she’d begged and pleaded as you sat in your corner alone while she flits about here and there, talking to just about everyone there about anything and everything. A trait you had not inherited from your Scottish patronage. You’re so deep in your own thoughts in fact that you don’t immediately register the added weight on the sofa beside you, the way it dips and bows beneath it, until that lilting bravado is crooning in your ear, close enough to feel the whisper of warm air from his breath on the outer shell.

“How’d ya know Captain MacMillan?”

You blink, realize you’d been so entrenched in your own thoughts that you hadn’t even seen the man you’d been watching stand from his seat and take up the empty space next to you, and a flush of embarrassment blooms across your cheeks when you realize he must have seen you staring. When the rest of your body catches up with your brain you turn to face him, finding his face mere inches from yours.

He smells like the earth after it rains, like petrichor, and it mingles with something tangier—something sharp—like the honed edge of a blade. His smile is just as striking, all teeth and curling lips. Feline.

And his eyes—bluer than Loch Lomond on a clear, sunny day, and glittering in the same way the sunlight catches on the cresting ripples at the water's surface. They feel just as deep and endless too, the way his pupils flare and swallow that brilliant blue as he studies your face with a startling intensity, devouring every detail. Something rattles and trills in your mind at the way his gaze seems to drag you down, down, down, where it’s hard to breathe beneath the waves, and you can’t tell if the sound is sweet music or a frantic warning.

The realization that you haven’t yet given him an answer dawns on you and you suck in a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I uh… I didn’t know him. I knew of him though—a distant relative,” you explain and your fingers curl tighter around the glass in your hands.

He doesn’t lean away, remains firmly inside your little bubble and cocks his head in a manner that reminds you of a cat watching a bird outside a window. Hunting. He’s so close you can see the shadow of a beard, freshly shaved but with new growth already pushing its way to the surface to darken the sharp line of his jaw.

He hums. A low rumbling sound that emanates from deep within his chest. “Didnae ken the Captain comes from such a bonnie family,” he says in that swaggering bravado, and it almost sounds like a purr. “What’s yer name, hen?”

You give him your name, along with an outstretched hand which he takes in his large one, palm and pads of his fingers rough and callous against your own, and his pupils flare wider, causing his eyes to darken a sinful shade. “I’m Johnny MacTavish. Or Soap, if ye like,” he says, and holds onto your hand for just a few seconds longer than he should, the warmth of it branding your skin before he lets go.

“Soap?” you question and quickly pull your hand back into what remains of the personal space he seems intent on crowding, feeling like you’ve reached for a hot pan without a mitt.

“It’s muh callsign,” he says and drapes an arm over the back of the couch behind you, caging you into your little corner.

More bells.

“I’m military. SAS, like the Captain.”

SAS.

Suddenly you’re seeing all of the things that had drawn your interest to him earlier in a new light.

He’s built. Broad shouldered and bulky in the arms and thighs that have been creeping closer ever since he sat down. The scar on his chin that pulls taught when he smiles with all his teeth. The metallic tang that lingers on his skin. How silently he had suddenly appeared on the couch beside you.

Danger.

He places his broad hand on your thigh and your eyes jerk to his. There’s a menacious glint flickering in the dark pools that reels you in and pulls you under, like the kelpies young children are warned about.

Don’t get too close to the water or you’ll drown. Don’t get too close to him.

His hand feels more like a paw, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your leg like a cat sinking its claws into fresh meat.

“They’re choosin’ teams fer quarters,” he says with a nod in the direction of the coffee table where guests have begun to gather around an arrangement of disposable cups, bottles of scotch and a collection of coins, splitting into two groups. “Think ye should be on my team,” he says a shade darker, fingers digging harder into your thigh and lips curling back to reveal his feline grin once more.

You pull your leg away from him, tugging it closer to your chest, and your heart thumps insistently against your ribs, pulse quickening in the way prey that recognizes the hunt does. You feel like a mouse caught between the claws of a kellas cat, half-wild things that roam the highlands.

“I-I actually have to go,” you blurt and shoot to your feet before he can sink his claws in further, discarding your half-empty glass on the end table. “I don’t hold my liquor well, and I have an early morning tomorrow.” It’s a lie, but how would he know? You snatch your sweater from the arm of the sofa and shove trembling arms through the sleeves. “It was… nice meeting you though.”

Was it?

“A-and I’m sorry for your loss.” The words come tumbling out like you can’t say them fast enough, tripping over your own tongue as you hurry to extricate yourself from his grasp. You don’t wait for him to return the sentiment, turning on your heel and making a beeline for your cousin.

You tell her you’re tired and heading home, offering a brief hug for her and your aunt before you have to walk back through the living room, right past Johnny, to get to the door. You don’t know if it’s relief or dread that flutters in your stomach when you see Johnny no longer occupies his spot on the couch as you cross the room. Isn’t anywhere in sight.

With your down coat bundled tightly around you, you step out into the cold night, immediately hit with icy wind and stinging particles of snow against your cheeks. Your car is parked just around the corner, less than a minute's walk. And you take hurried steps away from the town house towards the pavement.

You should have been more careful.

One moment you’re turning the corner towards your car and the next your feet are sliding out from under you on ice-slick pavement, sending you to the ground in a bone-shuddering fall.

Your skull cracks off the pavement and it echoes between your ears. You lay stunned on the ground, unable to do more than groan at the pain radiating from the base of your skull down your spine.

And then there’s hands on your shoulders. Large, warm hands that glide up your neck and prod at the tender flesh at the back of your head. You groan at the painful press of calloused fingers and a familiar voice coos to you.

“Took quite a tumble, wee rabbit. Ye really shouldnae have been walkin’ so quick through all this snow,” he says as he retracts his fingers from your head and they settle on your shoulders again.

You groan, trying to open your eyes and see through the flakes of snow that blur your vision as you try and fail to lift your head.

“Dinnae move too much, ye’ll hurt yerself more.” His hands move from your shoulders to snake beneath your knees and under your back to lift you from the ground.

You moan as the motion jostles your head and sends a blinding jolt of pain through your skull, exploding behind your eyes and sending stars dancing wildly across your remaining vision.

“Shhh wee thing, yer awright. I’ll make sure that pretty little heid of yours is tended to.”

You’re being carried, cradled to a broad chest by burly arms. Smells like rain-

No…. No, no, nonono-

You try to force your eyes open, fighting desperately against the tunneling of your vision to see through the hazy edges and blurry focus.

You’re shifted against him and you cry out as pain flares bright behind your eyes again, and he coos, telling you he’s got you now. He’ll take care of you.

Broken whimpers bubble up in your throat as you’re laid down on something soft, and you wince against the rumble of an engine as it purrs to life. Everything sounds like it’s underwater, and somehow amplified to rattle your brain in your skull. You feel heavy, arms and legs turned to lead.

“Was here fer the captain, but when I saw ye, so pretty curled up on that sofa… knew then I was leavin’ with ye instead.”

It’s the last thing you hear before your fading consciousness suddenly gives way to complete and total darkness.

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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morallyinept · 3 months

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A full character analysis on OBERYN MARTELL from the TV show GAME OF THRONES.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to learn more about the character. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

FULL CHARACTER STUDY:

Basic Details:

Full Name: Oberyn Nymeros Martell

Nickname(s): The Red Viper

Appears in: Game Of Thrones, 2014 (first appearance on screen in episode 1, season 4, seen at approx. 09:13)

Age (if known): Oberyn is stated to be around 42 when he died

Sexuality: Bisexual

Nationality: Dornish. According to author George R.R. Martin, Dorne is loosely inspired by Spain, particularly the south's Moorish heritage, which culturally sets it apart from the rest of the country and of Western Europe.

Family: Eight daughters (Obara Sand, Nymeria Sand, Tyene Sand, Sarella Sand, Elia Sand, Obella Sand, Dorea Sand & Loreza Sand). Younger brother of Doran Martell, younger brother of Elia Martell

Spouse/Partner: Ellaria Sand, paramour

Relationship Status: In a sexually open relationship with his paramour, Ellaria Sand

Current Living Status: Deceased, killed by The Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane

Languages Spoken: English, Dornish

Education: Oberyn studied poisons at the Citadel, earning six links of the Maester's chain, rendering him a specialist in his field and a master at poisons. He left when he got bored of studying.

Occupation:

Job Role/Title: Prince of Dorne

Special Skill(s): Fighting, poisons, bedding many lovers

Notable Colleague(s): Ellaria Sand, Tyrion Lannister

Distinguishing Features:

Tattoo(s): None

Piercings: None

Scar(s): None notable

Other Markings: None notable

Prominent Feature(s): Slight greying in his hair, beard and moustache

Injuries: Oberyn is knocked to his feet by The Mountain unexpectedly during the fight, and punched in the mouth, resulting him losing most of his teeth. He has his eyes gouged out by The Mountain using his thumbs. Then having his skull crushed and caved in is what ultimately kills him

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Brown

Personality:

Traits: Seductive, cunning, vengeful

Oberyn is from Dorne. Dorne is one of the nine constituent regions of the Seven Kingdoms. It is the southernmost part of the continent of Westeros, located thousands of miles from Winterfell and the North, and has a harsh desert climate. Sunspear, also known as the Old Palace, is the seat of House Nymeros Martell and the capital of the Principality of Dorne. According to author George R.R. Martin, Dorne is loosely inspired by Spain, particularly the south's Moorish heritage, which culturally sets it apart from the rest of the country and of Western Europe. Oberyn speaks with an accent reminiscent of his heritage from Dorne, of which Pedro mentioned he used his own father's Chilean accent as inspiration.

Oberyn is seeking vengeance for the murder of his sister Elia against her murderer, The Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane. He also named his fifth daughter after his sister.

Oberyn has eight illegitimate bastard daughters (born outside of marriage), collectively known as the "Sand Snakes". Four of which he had with his current partner, his paramour, Ellaria Sand.

Whilst in love, Oberyn and Ellaria are not married as Ellaria herself is a bastard (born outside of marriage). Although Oberyn is allowed to be with her, marrying her would not be allowed as in Dorne as a Prince cannot marry a bastard.

As soon as Oberyn arrives in Kings Landing, arriving in the dawn to avoid a greeting party, he immediately goes to the brothel to indulge with Ellaria.

Oberyn's overall attitude was that life is short, and one must enjoy all of life's pleasures while one can. He would rather live life on his own terms, openly challenging his enemies and risk destruction rather than live by someone else's rules. Rather ironically, it was Oberyn's zest for life, his temper, overconfidence, love for his sister, and hatred towards Ser Gregor Clegane that ultimately led to his death.

Despite Oberyn dying at the hands of The Mountain, he was still able to extract revenge from beyond the grave. While The Mountain is being treated for his injuries, it is discovered that before the duel Oberyn had his spear blade coated with Manticore venom, which causes The Mountain's already severe wounds from the fight to putrefy horribly, leaving him in a catatonic, decaying, and agonized state.

Pedro learned Wushu to fight with a spear in the fight scene against The Mountain to enable Oberyn to move with speed and grace.

Fashion/Outfits:

Outfit 1 - (Opening scene) Golden yellow robe embellished with bronze sun studding, orange silken undershirt, leather boots, brown leather belt, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 2 - (King Joffrey's wedding ceremony and feast scenes) Cream/white robes embellished with satin, silken embellished scarf wrapped around waist, leather boots, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 3 - (In the brothel scene) Dark black embellished scarf, dark lounge pants, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 4 - (Walking with Cersei and on the council scenes) Golden yellow robe embellished with bronze sun studding, yellow silken undershirt, sand coloured pants, leather boots, brown leather belt, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 5 - (Talking with Lord Varys scene) Yellow/orange silken embroidered robe, orange silken under shirt, leather brown belt, leather boots

Outfit 6 - (Tyrion's trial and visiting Tyrion in his cell) Golden yellow robe embellished with bronze sun studding, yellow silken undershirt, sand coloured pants, leather boots, brown leather belt, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 7 - (Fighting the mountain scene) Brown leather snakeskin embossed armour, brown leather belt, brown pants, brown leather boots. Matching helmet, which he did not wear.

Accessories: Oberyn wears a brass/bronze pendant with floral detailing on the plate. He wears a gold band ring on each thumb. His belts also act as sheaths for his dagger and sword.

Weapons Used:

Weapon(s): (Exact weapons pictured below)

Oberyn has a dagger he wears on his right hip in a sheath on his belt. The dagger has a dark handle, possibly onyx, with red jewelled detailing blended into the handle.

Oberyn's spear is entwined with a golden snake and the shape of the blade is said to be modelled to represent a snake's tongue. He laced the spear head with poison. The tassels are made from snakeskin.

Oberyn's sword has a snake head handle and has the same black and red jewelled detailing as his dagger. Oberyn is not seen using his sword at all, instead favouring to use another spear when his first one is broken by The Mountain.

Modes of Transport:

Vehicle(s):

Oberyn is not seen using any forms of transport, however as a Prince he would have his own horse. Tyrion sets out to greet the cavalcade of horses, however Oberyn, in place of his brother Doran, had already arrived in the early dawn in secret. According to the book version of Oberyn, his horse is a Sand Steed, "a stallion black as sin with a mane and tail the colour of fire" when arriving in King's Landing.

Dialogue:

🗨 See Oberyn's full dialogue from the show, including deleted scenes.

Further Character Links (if any):

Oberyn Martell A Fire & Ice Wiki, Oberyn Martell A Wiki Of Westeros, Behind The Scenes The Viper & The Mountain

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

#oberyn martell #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #oberyn martell game of thrones #game of thrones #the red viper #pedro pascal character database #oberyn martell character analysis #pedro pascal character analysis

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violettduchess · 1 month

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Meet my OC 🌊

More about her beneath the waves

Name: Leyla Cordelia Quinn

Age: Late 20's

Universe: Ikemen Prince

Family Members: Adoptive parents (deceased)

Occupation: Captain of Siren's Call, a merchant ship. Pirate Queen of The Crimson Scorn, a feared pirate ship

Family History & Details:

The king of the island kingdom of Iolite, trapped in a loveless political marriage to a wealthy nobleman's daughter, has a love affair with one of castle's servants. The jealous queen finds out about the affair and also that the servant is pregnant.

The servant is removed from the castle, absconded away until she gives birth. The child is taken from her immediately and sentenced to death by the queen's command. What happens to the servant is unknown.

The queen's aide cannot however bring himself to murder an infant in cold blood and instead wraps her in a blanket, tucks her into a basket and leaves her to the ocean's waves.

The next morning right before the break of a dawn a local fisherman finds the basket with the crying newborn. He takes her home to his wife and they see her as a gift from the heavens since they have long been childless.

Leyla is raised by the fisherman and his wife in a small fishing village in the shadow of the castle she was conceived in.

As she grows up, she learns to sail, to fight, to drink, to bargain. Her adoptive mother makes sure she also reads, sharing her collection of books both local and foreign, so Leyla learns about the world beyond her small island.

She befriends a merchant captain who allows her, with her parents blessing, to join him on merchant business. Leyla quickly learns the ropes, proving she can handle a ship when the half the crew including the captain become ill during a voyage and she takes control.

She eventually becomes captain of her own merchant ship, but it's not an easy vocation. She is confronted with corruption and greed and merchants who deal with illegal/unsavory cargo.

Her strong sense of justice and mistrust of authorities send her down the path of a sea-faring vigilante, adopting the disguise of the mysterious Red Queen, a pirate captain known for attacking the ships of the lowest kind of scum: smugglers, human traffickers, thieves.

She is a gale across the oceans, free and unmatched....until she meets a silver-haired noble from Benitoite.

And everything changes.

Absolutely amazing Leyla art by @lorei-writes

#ikepri oc #ikemen oc #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri silvio #silvio ricci

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athenswrites · 8 months

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Welcome Back to the Collection of Athens Writes

Hi! I'm Athens/Andy (they/them). I am a somewhat old yet somewhat new face on writeblr. I'm currently a second year student at a university in the deep south, studying history and anthropology in order to become a museum curator. Most of my free time is spent writing, which is the driving force behind this blog. Writing has become the love of my life over the past ten years.

AthensWrites has had two prior iterations. All I posted here in the previous iteration was privated, including Not Your Typical Fairytale. Don't fear, NYTF will make a glorious return ;)

With all that said, welcome back to the odd writings of Athens, and I hope you enjoy your stay. Below the cut, I've detailed some of my current projects, which range from Sci-Fi (my favorite) to thrillers to fantasy to realistic fiction. I've highlighted key content warnings and tags for each, just to keep you aware. If you'd like to hop on a tag list for any of these stories, please let me know! Some of them I post more frequently than others. I am also very tag list and tag game friendly so PLEASE tag me in stuff. If you need other people to tag in a writeblr tag game, look no further than this post!

The collection is constantly updating and evolving, so stay tuned!

Not Your Typical Fairytale (#nytf)

Although originally planned as a standalone novel, NYTF has now expanded into three separate books: Knight of Dawn, Queen of Noon, and King of Dusk. There's an additional collection of short stories/untold stories planned as well, tentatively titled Pawn of Midnight.

Content warning: gore, death, violence, graphic scientific experimentation, derealization, paranoia, drug use and abuse, alcohol use, child abuse (physical, verbal), relationship abuse (verbal, manipulation), sex (consensual) Related tags: nytf, Piers Hall, Grady Yensey, Rene Dubois, ATLZoS

Knight of Dawn

Piers Hall is the newly crowned monarch of the post-apocalyptic State of Georgia, after their mother, Queen Adele, was declared unfit to rule. Despite meaning well, they find themself unprepared for the role, especially as political rivals, like North Carolina’s President René Dubois and Councilmember Shanna Miles, close in on their tail, seemingly threatening to topple their rule. When various palace staff start to show where their real loyalties, it seems like Grady Yensey, Commander of the Royal Guard and their closest friend, is the only one they can trust. Piers and Grady must scramble to uncover the truth behind Queen Adele’s questionable associates, Piers’ missing past, and President Dubois’ shady activities

International Alliance of Superhumans (#iash)

Superhumans have existed as long as we have, normal people who suddenly develop seemingly magical powers overnight. That’s why the International Alliance of Superhumans was founded in 1945, to help control these superhumans to better humanity. Now, the Alliance's ideals and control is falling apart, as the Underground and the Union threaten its weakening rule over the superhuman community. Fireball is the golden hero of the Alliance , the face of the organization, the beloved apprentice of the Chief Administrator after the death of the one and only GoldenSon. He’s brave, courageous, kind, and always up to take a photo with the kiddos, accompanied by his partner, NightSong. He’s taken down villains from Quantum Rift (the killer of GoldenSon) to Árbol Terror, and now has his eyes set on taking down Hueso Blanco and Morpheus Nox before they can tear a hole in reality. Brigid Roberts is the face behind the mask of Fireball. They’re the only child of the now-deceased Nikki Roberts and find have found themself seeking revenge for Nikki’s death…while also trying to manage this superhero business and their senior year of high school. It doesn’t help that the administration of Wesmoreland keeps threatening to expel them for their aggressive behavior. Hueso Blanco is the epitome of an ex-Alliance villain, a well beloved hero fallen from grace, after Árbol Terror and Quantum Rift convinced him to join the Underground. Now with both of his former allies dead, he leads the Underground, and with the help of Morpheus Nox (an up and coming villain with a terrifying similarity to Quantum Rift) he plans to tear a hole in our reality, ripping out world apart. Martin Garcia-Flores is the sole caretaker of his younger brother, Elias, and would do anything to protect him. After the Alliance's violent threats, he left, in order to protect what was left. He lost friends and family and his love to the Alliance's corrupted side, and now works tirelessly to bring it to his knees…while also trying to work three separate jobs to keep himself and Elias afloat. When fate brings Brigid and Martin face to face, maskless and vulnerable, the two come to understand they may not be as different as they’d both previously thought. Content Warning: violence, gore, death, family abuse (physical, verbal), alcohol (use) Related Tags: IASH, superhumans, Brigid Roberts, Martin GF, Hueso Blanco, Fireball

Space Clue/The Murder of Fredrik Lexand (#tmfl)

In 2183, humans abandoned earth as her ecosystems collapsed and became uninhabitable. Now, the remnants of humanity live in the Lexand Starfleet, a group of 16 name-brand ships, sailing towards deep space. In control of it all is Fredrik Lexand, the 17th great grandson of the original founder of Lexand StarFleet. From his living pod at the head of StarSeeker Alpha, he controls everything and anything that happens to humanity, from their food to their spouses to where the remnants of humanity will travel to. The weight of the world on one man’s shoulders (who are we kidding, of course he has lackeys who do all the menial work), worshipped as a god. Until the morning he is found brutally dismembered, mangled parts of his body strewn all over his office. Humanity freezes, watching intently, as the Lexand Pod is locked down by Detective Scoud Tambry, swearing to uncover the killer, and avenge the Corporate god-king. Content Warning: Violence, gore Related Tags: tmfl, space clue, Triple A Siblings, Scoud Tambry

Something Queer is Afoot (#SQIA)

Something Queer is Afoot is a massive collection of stories, all centering around queer life and romance. The Queer Crew is the group which most of them are centered around. This collection is MASSIVE and has about 10 different novella-length stories within. The content warnings listed below covers ALL of SQIA. Content Warnings: su*cide, death, homophobia, transphobia, abuse (physical, verbal, and sexual), drug use and abuse, religious trauma, sex (consensual and noncon/r*pe) Related Tags: SQIA, tqc, nlth, frf, sunandgun, boc

Still to be added: All of SQIA's individual projects, Cryto Conspiracy, The Great Fantasy American Road Trip, World of Ateine, Neon Squad

MORE TO BE ADDED SOON, SO STAY TUNED!

Athens' Current Objectives....

Blog Tag Directory:

#athenswrites: Personal writing

#athens answers: ask games

#other writeblrs: exactly what it sounds like, other writers I've reblogged

#writers I love: reblogs of close friends or writing that just hits me different

#rblg: general reblog tag

I'm pretty good at tagging extensively, so if you need to find something or are looking for a specific wip in my blog, there's a high probability I've tagged it like crazy

#writeblr #writing #writeblr intro #writeblr community #boost #new writeblr boost #nytf #scifi #fantasy #iash #superheroes #creative writing #writerscommunity #writer #lgbtq

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jasminewalkerauthor · 5 months

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Deep dives into folklore: Egyptian mythology

Egyptian mythology is a rich and complex tapestry that weaves together a diverse pantheon of gods, goddesses, and mythical beings, providing insights into the beliefs and cosmology of ancient Egypt. The mythology of ancient Egypt spans thousands of years, evolving and adapting over different periods of the civilization's history. Here's a deep dive into key aspects of Egyptian mythology:

Creation Mythology:

1. Atum and the Ennead:

Atum, the primordial god, is often associated with the sunset and creation. According to some myths, Atum emerged from the chaotic waters of Nun and created himself.

Atum then produced the Ennead, a group of nine deities, including Shu (air) and Tefnut (moisture), who gave birth to Geb (earth) and Nut (sky).

2. Geb and Nut:

Geb and Nut, the children of Shu and Tefnut, were initially inseparable, but Shu raised Nut above him, creating space between them—representing the sky—and allowing life to flourish on Earth.

3. Osiris, Isis, Set, and Nephthys:

Osiris, the god of the afterlife and rebirth, ruled Egypt with his sister-wife, Isis. Set, another sibling, grew jealous and murdered Osiris.

Isis, the devoted wife, gathered Osiris's body parts, resurrecting him for a brief period to conceive their son, Horus.

The conflict between Horus and Set symbolizes the struggle between order and chaos.

Pantheon:

1. Ra:

Ra, the sun god, was a central figure in Egyptian mythology. He traveled through the sky during the day and navigated the underworld at night.

Ra's journey through the underworld and rebirth at dawn mirrors the cycle of the sun.

2. Horus:

Horus, often depicted with a falcon head, was associated with kingship and protection. The Pharaohs were believed to be the earthly embodiment of Horus.

The Eye of Horus symbolizes protection, healing, and power.

3. Thoth:

Thoth, the ibis-headed god, was the scribe of the gods and the inventor of writing. He played a crucial role in the judgment of the deceased in the afterlife.

4. Anubis:

Anubis, the jackal-headed god, presided over mummification and guided souls through the afterlife. He weighed the hearts of the deceased against the feather of Ma'at during the judgment in the Hall of Ma'at.

Afterlife and the Duat:

1. Duat:

The Duat was the realm of the dead, a mysterious and perilous place that the deceased had to navigate to reach the afterlife.

2. Ma'at:

Ma'at, the goddess of truth, justice, and cosmic order, played a crucial role in the afterlife judgment. The heart of the deceased was weighed against the feather of Ma'at.

3. Osiris and the Afterlife:

Osiris became the ruler of the afterlife, offering the possibility of eternal life to the deceased who passed the judgment in the Hall of Ma'at.

Rituals and Beliefs:

1. Mummification:

The process of mummification was a vital ritual to preserve the body for the afterlife. Organs were removed, and the body was treated with natron before being wrapped in linen.

2. Book of the Dead:

The Book of the Dead was a collection of spells and rituals designed to guide the deceased through the afterlife successfully.

3. Temples and Cults:

Temples were dedicated to specific gods, and cults practiced rituals and ceremonies to honor and appease the deities.

Egyptian mythology reflects the Egyptians' deep connection to the natural world, their preoccupation with the cyclical nature of life and death, and their profound religious beliefs. It served as a foundation for their societal norms, rituals, and the concept of an afterlife. The stories of gods and goddesses, creation myths, and the pursuit of balance and order continue to captivate and inspire curiosity about this ancient civilization's spiritual beliefs.

Taglist (reblog or reply to be added):

@axl-ul @crow-flower @thoughts-fromthevoid @alderwoodbooks @harleyacoincidence @tuberosumtater @sonic-spade @theonlygardenia @holymzogynybatman @nulliel-tres

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing #bookish #booklr #fantasy books #creative writing #book blog #ya fantasy books #ya books #Deep dives into folklore #folklore #egyptian mythology #egypt #ancient egypt #mythology

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ragesin · 3 months

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YOU KNOW MY NAME

The first born son of the King of all Demons is a person of many names, good and bad, collected over his unending lifespan.

Meliodas.　His first name. A gift from his mother given after his birth and one cherished dearly by him. It's intended meaning — the one inspired in his mother when she first laid eyes upon him — is honeyed grace, for his flecks of fledgling hair was as gold as honey. However there are other ways to interpret his name, two of which he accepts: pleasant song and beloved / praised king. The nickname stemming from it, Mel, simply means honey. Given the connotations in most cultures, he considers it an extremely intimate term and he only really lets people call him that when they're very close to him ( using honey on it's own in whatever context is fine, explicitly calling him Mel is when this guarded restriction applies ). Overall, Meliodas is his preferred and, as far as he's concerned, real name. The one he tends to introduce himself as and the one he wants to be remembered by — to be known as his mother's son, not his father's. ( side note: Aliadus and Meliadus are name variations he sometimes employs in place of Meliodas. Rouland, Rivalin and Felix among a number of different names has been used as aliases for him throughout the years )

████████.　The "true" name bestowed to him by his father, a brand etched into his soul and forever signifying his nature as one with the dark. Given that it was spoken into being by a god, it functions as his Other name. It originates from archaic Dieflig, so it's mostly unpronounceable to those not versed in the infernal language. When derived into the common tongues, it can be written and spoken as Tallwch. The most common interpretation of the name is "power", but it is also ascribed as pride and darkness. It's his name as much as Meliodas is and once upon a time he was proud to carry it. However, it is one that has come to be stained with disdain, contempt, and regret over the many years of his life thanks to the inherent association with the Demon King and as such has fallen largely into disuse by Meliodas himself. He will almost never refer to himself by this name.

Noctifer / Lucifer.　A part of the clan's culture surround the stars in their home realm. They regard them in a sacred manner as the final sparks of deceased demons who have long since passed on, and those born underneath them are watched over by honored ancestors. Many aspire to become a star when they die, so star imagery is not uncommon. However, things were turned on their head when Meliodas was born. A brand new, violent spark came into being, emitting near frightening light as the brightest object in the night sky. It was a phenomena a hitherto unseen: the creation of a star coinciding with a birth rather than a death. A living star. It appeared just before dawn and later on shone equally as fiercely on the cusp of sunset, although it never appeared to reach the apex of the sky. In time, it came to be known as the evening and morning star, Noctifer and Lucifer respectively for each aspect, safeguarding the night from the light of the day. His star personified him and he in turn embodied it. Thus the two names are able to be used interchangeably with Meliodas. Noctifer had more popular usage among demons, but Lucifer was the name that truly stuck for others beyond the demon realm. Following his betrayal and subsequent association with the Goddess Elizabeth and Stigma, the name took on entirely new meanings and he was mockingly known as the fallen angel. Far and wide, the hated name of light bringer became synonymous with God's most beautiful son, a prideful rebel who sinned by aspiring to be independent of Him, a devil traitor who's act of free will caused his fall from grace.

Inanna.　Lucifer is not the only name assigned to Meliodas due to the appearance of his star. Continuing to be an oddity, it also can be seen in the skies of Britannia and beyond, leading to many cultures around the world coming to their own conclusions about it's appearance. Some direct titles are related to some of the appearances he made in other parts of the world during the earlier warring days of his life. In one such place, the people there started calling him Inanna ( then Ishtar later down the line ) meaning Lady Of The Heavens, and he was known to them as the ancient Mesopotamian goddess of love, war, and fertility. Women in particular worshipped him by baking sweet cakes for him. The goddess image they held of him there led to Meliodas being inadvertently associated with many gods and goddesses that fall under his star which, in modern times, became conflated with Venus.

The Beast, Helel.　The Goddesses gave the name of Lucifer their own vehement spin, labelling him as Helel. It held different two meanings: shining one and the one the goddesses intended for Meliodas, to lament as in to wail or howl ( like a beast ). They viewed him as an ill omen upon the world and referred to him as a wicked star, a false light, and a dark messiah of the forces of evil. Essentially they viewed him as the equivalent of the antichrist before it was even a prophesied thing in the Book of Revelations.

The Destroyer.　Abaddon, Apollyon, Exterminans. All these terms refer to the same title given to Meliodas by his father that denotes him as the Apostle of Destruction. It was derived from his birth prophecy that said Meliodas would be an end of things to come. To some, he's viewed as the personification of apeiron, as the "angel of the abyss" and destruction.

Belias ( Satan ).　Belias is a word used to characterize the wicked or worthless and Satan means accuser, adversary or opponent. The terms are mostly used in reference to his father, some of the Demon King's own many and varied names, but often times Meliodas was viewed as an extension of the king, a harbinger and enactor of his divine will. The Demon King in a mortal vessel, an incarnation of the highest demon, the son and the father as one. In a sense the names are just as much his own. If Meliodas had a true family name, this would be likely be it. When he calls himself Belias or Satan, or uses it in place of a last name, it's always with a tinge of scornful irony and spiteful mockery.

#⁺✧⠀⠀`⠀headcanon⠀﹕⠀❪ both rage and tenderness. ❫#( not me pulling every title ever used to refer to Meliodas that i could find in the manga #and every bit of symbolism i could glean - intentional or not - from nakaba's hands like a starved creature #if i think of any more or come across something else in the manga i'll add it to here )#religion tw

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home-of-renn · 1 year

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Ineffable

Clockwork did not watch as the halfa was brought into existence. He did not see it.

But of course, that did not mean he hadn’t felt it.

He was the master of time, he knew everything that had, is, and would occur. Every possibility, reality, and paradox flowed through him before taking place on the various branches of existence.

He would have liked to, of course, however, his gaze was not viewed by him alone.

Clockwork had been the beginning of everything. Before him, there had been nothing, for nothing could exist without time. The first being, the first Ancient, the first concept, the first piece of consciousness brought into existence. Clockwork had come first, and everything had followed after.

The Past, the Present, the Future.

Disharmony, Strife, and Madness.

Desperation.

Unity.

Order.

And then finally, came Life and Death, and everything that came thereafter.

But somewhere between those early events – between the madness and the desperation – came the Observants.

Their conception beckoned into existence by his own insanity.

A binding contract was what they gave, a fracture upon his eye was what they left, and a piece of his sight was what they took.

They saw all that he saw and passed judgment upon all that they witnessed.

Clockwork could not let them see the boy.

There were certain things that needed to be, certain things that already were and always would be.

Cities that needed to be built, civilisations that needed to be born, sacrifices that had to be made.

While the Observants could see all that Clockwork himself could see, they were limited by their own obsessions – viewing each timestream with as much depth as ageless entities that were estranged from personal opinions and existed almost entirely as a collective hivemind could. Clockwork and his existence were fibres in the threads of reality. A piece of the universe that had been melded and sewn together to create the fabric of time that blanketed its ever-expanding state. What the Observants saw – stolen from his own fractured sight – they could not understand.

Clockwork supposed it was funny – in an incredibly ironic sense – that the Observants, for all that they saw – all that they witnessed, be it history as it passed through the land of the living or that of the deceased – were short-sighted. He supposed he couldn't blame them though; the crux of their inception was to blame for their unsavoury nature – which had in fact been partially his own fault in the first place.

But nevertheless, despite the Observants being a begrudgingly necessary fragment of his own existence, watching over his endless ministrations with the terms of his servitudes held mockingly within his reach, Clockwork could not –would not– let them see the halfa.

He had been awaiting this moment since the dawn of his existence. Like fine grains of sand that trickled through the neck of an hourglass, he had not noticed at first. But those grains had gathered, spilling into his core, tugging at the chords of his being that flowed in and out of him. The infinite realms had whispered to him a secret – or as he liked to think of it, a promise. One that he had held close, clutched to his chest and shielded from prying eyes. Selfishness was something he had never truly experienced for himself. But for the sake of his future ward, he indulged in it – and the way it felt was almost surprising.

Surprise – another thing he had never truly experienced. Oddly enough, he found that he wasn't entirely opposed to it.

It wouldn't be the first time that he’d lowered his gaze and disobeyed the Observants. But this was to be an event that would shake the roots of time and send ripples across the folds of space. His duty to the endless planes of existence came before all else – including the Observants.

They would be furious.

There was no other being in existence quite like himself. There were his fellow ‘Ancients’ of course, but even they were not the same as him. He was eons older than any of them. He had watched over each and every one of their conceptions. They had been created in the plane of existence which he stood apart from.

But the anomaly, the paradox – the only being that could hold an ember to Clockwork and his existence. An echo that had resided in the hollows of his ticking chest since the moment he had become whole. A pulse he regarded with familiar warmth.

Clockwork had not felt this way in a long time – he was sure he had not felt this way ever.

History repeated itself and Clockwork bore witness to each and every cycle. He had witnessed too much to be truly taken by surprise. But here he was, his core humming at the centre of his existence. His Obsession, shifting. Ebbing and vibrating. Something was about to change. Numerous things were about the change. And Clockwork could only feel so much of it. The paths in front of him were restless and indecisive.

So, Clockwork did as his Obsession demanded – he kept his head down and focused on his work, his gaze fixed firmly on a crumbling timeline.

His mind grew hazy with possibilities, and he struggled to keep his composure – to keep his sight steady. His core had never been wound so tightly, coiling and pulsing. The tip of his tongue fizzled with something foreign that threatened to flicker in his outward form. He had yet to truly know what would ripen from this affair – for he had yet to lift his head. For eons, he had kept his sight purposefully limited for the sake of a single child.

He felt it – alone in his workshop, footsteps that landed awkwardly against cold metal flooring. A single moment of silence before the universe snapped like the string of a bow and all at once the fabric that made up time and space shifted.

And then he heard it.

The magnifying glass that had been clasped in his hand slipped from his grasp.

A piercing scream that shook the infinite realms had finally made its way to the ears of the keeper of time.

This feeling he was experiencing, had experienced, and would experience – there was no word for it that came to mind, and that alone made the edges of his lips twitch. But as many things were when it came to his ward, it was ineffable.

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Thanks for making it to the end - this and all my other fics can be found on Ao3 for easy reading ✨✨✨

Feel free to leave a comment and don't be afraid to subscribe or hit the kudos button ❤️

#Renn has written #home of renn #my writing #ao3 #ao3fic #dp #dp clockwork #danny fenton #danny phantom #clockwork #the observants #fic #Ineffable #phic #phantom phics #crosspost #cross posted on ao3

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kradogsrats · 8 months

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okay just to spare everyone from having to experience like 500 words of extremely jarring headcanon dump in this fic, here's Katolian vs. Del Barian funerary traditions, the thesis(tm):

Katolian funerals, aside from those of royalty, are conducted as soon as possible after the death. Traditionally they are held just before dawn or just after dusk, no more than a full day and night after the death, though extenuating circumstances may forgive extending the timeline a bit.

Funerals in Del Bar also generally occur soon after death, but due less to tradition than practicality. There's no set timeline.

The clerics of Katolis are responsible both for preparing bodies for cremation, and conducting the funerals themselves. They also maintain the public locations designated specifically for funeral pyres—there are several in the area surrounding Katolis city, but in rural or wild areas they get further and further apart. Locations are usually determined by a combination of the local cleric's range of responsibility and its distribution of population density.

In Del Bar, funerals are conducted entirely by the family or those close to the deceased. While community members may assist with the labor of preparations, it would be considered very odd to have a stranger like a cleric speak at a funeral.

Del Barian dead are buried, either directly in the earth or beneath stone cairns, depending on local terrain. Traditionally, an item significant to the deceased—a favorite weapon, tool, or instrument, or a beloved garment or piece of jewelry—and a small amount of food, representative of a shared meal, are included in the grave. These grave goods acknowledge that the deceased will be missed as something precious and irreplaceable, and will always be welcome back at the mourners' table.

On rare occasions, usually when the grave item is required for the livelihood of a family member—such as a child inheriting a parent's weapon or tools when they do not have the means to acquire their own—a simple representation of the item may be included in its place. However, the deferred item is expected to be buried as soon as its temporary guardian is able to adequately replace it. This practice is not considered shameful in and of itself, because there is no shame in poverty or need, but if you linger too long before replacing the item people will start to gossip.

Katolian dead are stripped of all worldly possessions before cremation, including clothing and jewelry. Bodies are bound in simple cloth shrouds, and the removed personal effects are returned to the family or otherwise disposed of. Clerics collect and scatter the ashes from the funeral pyres, as they are not considered by Katolians to have any significance.

Del Barian grave goods are not regarded as spiritual or supernatural (or cursed), but are still considered by law to be property of the deceased. Grave robbing carries a higher penalty than regular thievery mostly because the dead are unable to defend themselves, so it is viewed as one of the most cowardly and shameful crimes possible. For this and other reasons, stolen grave goods are generally smuggled out of Del Bar by foreigners and sold in other kingdoms.

in short anyone who winds up reading this fic please understand that Lissa inviting Kpp'Ar to Viren's funeral is MUCH more of a big fucking deal than it sounds

#headcanons #del bar #katolis #me writing this: DON'T talk about embalming #absolutely do NOT talk about embalming #dON'T

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soda-n-dinos-andmore · 8 months

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HEAD CANNON TIME

I just think it’d be ✨ neat ✨to have some fun little court ship rituals in the clans. Some variation in traditions between em! They feel super similar so, here’s some head cannons for each clan on different cultural traditions and junk.

Thunderclan

When the leafbare hits, there’s a day of quiet mourning for what winter has taken before. Patrols are still sent out, but the cats keep quiet and huddle to preserve warmth. The honoring of the end of a cycle. That night at sunset the cats gather and pray to the fallen for an easy Leafbare.

Newleaf would be marked by a day of joy and celebration. Flowers and feathers are gathered and placed into the fur of loved ones. At sun high everyone gathers in camp and enjoys life and laughter. The joy of new beginnings and a celebration of survival.

Courtship for thunderclan is based off of impressing your potential mate(s) in anyway possible at first. Hunting or other basic important tasks to clan life are key. Cats can be picky about how capable a potential mate is at these simple tasks!

When a thunderclan warrior feels they’ve impressed the other(s) they’re courting, they start being more affectionate. Words of affirmation and adoration as well as physical touch. The one doing the least amount of courting is often expected to either be the one to ask or blankly refuse mateship. if the other(s) gets impatient they can ask themself/themselves

Windclan:

Mid-greenleaf wind clan cats in the forest have a celebration of the tunnelers and all the work they do to keep the clan safe. Newer tunnelers often are given gifts from kin to celebrate. Kits born on this day are seen as blessed by the first tunnelers and therefore, normally become tunnelers. Digging out and navigating the tunnels is a lot of work, and tunnelers often have longer apprenticeships due to all the extra things to learn.

With no tunnels, the lake territory replaced this day with a celebration of summers bounties. Gifts are given to any loved one and warriors helping watch the kits so the queens get a break.

First crescent moon of new-leaf Elders tell the kits the tale of the first medicine cat and the medicine cats often go to the moonstone/moon pool to strengthen their connections to star clan.

courtship is marked by one cat singing to the cat or cats they are trying to woo. They would most likely start to cuddle after this event, and the leader and the closest kin of the cats involved is usually told within the next moon or so. The leader and whatever kin was told would plan an event for the cats so it could be made truly official and public. That event would happen around dawn and be a celebration of love.

The next step would be a competition of some sort. The winner would collect the material for the nest and the loser would create the nest, marking the end of courtship, and the start of being true mates. A tie would mean the material and nest would both be a joint effort.

Windclan burials are filled with stories of the cats life, traded from loved one to loved one. A leaf is tucked into the pelt of the deceased by every loved one mourning the cat, so they do not forget their loved ones back in the land of the living. Each cat whispers their goodbyes and then the elders take the corpse away to be buried.

This post is too long so I’ll probably make a part 2 later. It’s also suuuuper late right now.

#warrior cats #headcanon #thunderclan #windclan #I thought I left this fandom #i was wrong

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bubbleteapenguin · 1 year

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THE WRAITH’S DIARY ENTRY

☎️💬📖🖋🔔🍨🍦🍬💅💕

We have those days where we eat a tub of ice cream I did that back in college. What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? 🍨

(2020 art)

#dead by daylight #dead by daylight killer #dbd fanart #dbd fan art #philip ojomo #the wraith #the wraith fan art #dead by daylight fan art #dead by daylight fandom #2020 art #bubble penguin art #deceased by dawn collection

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 19 days

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The hidden role of the Milky Way in ancient Egyptian mythology

Ancient Egyptians were known for their religious beliefs and astronomical knowledge of the Sun, Moon, and planets, but up until now it has been unclear what role the Milky Way played in Egyptian religion and culture.

A new study by a University of Portsmouth astrophysicist sheds light on the relationship between the Milky Way and the Egyptian sky-goddess Nut.

Nut is goddess of the sky, who is often depicted as a star-studded woman arched over her brother, the earth god Geb. She protects the earth from being flooded by the encroaching waters of the void, and plays a key role in the solar cycle, swallowing the Sun as it sets at dusk and giving birth to it once more as it rises at dawn.

The paper draws on ancient Egyptian texts and simulations to argue that the Milky Way might have shone a spotlight, as it were, on Nut’s role as the sky. It proposes that in winter, the Milky Way highlighted Nut’s outstretched arms, while in summer, it traced her backbone across the heavens.

Associate Professor in Astrophysics, Dr Or Graur, said: “I chanced upon the sky-goddess Nut when I was writing a book on galaxies and looking into the mythology of the Milky Way. I took my daughters to a museum and they were enchanted by this image of an arched woman and kept asking to hear stories about her.

“This sparked my interest and I decided to combine both astronomy and Egyptology to do a double analysis - astronomical and cross-cultural - of the sky-goddess Nut, and whether she really could be linked to the Milky Way.”

Dr Graur drew from a rich collection of ancient sources including the Pyramid Texts, Coffin Texts, and the Book of Nut and compared them alongside sophisticated simulations of the Egyptian night sky.

He found compelling evidence that the Milky Way highlighted Nut’s divine presence.

Furthermore, Dr Graur connected Egyptian beliefs with those of other cultures, showing similarities in how different societies interpret the Milky Way.

He said: “My study also shows that Nut’s role in the transition of the deceased to the afterlife and her connection to the annual bird migration are consistent with how other cultures understand the Milky Way. For example, as a spirits' road among different peoples in North and Central America or as the Birds' Path in Finland and the Baltics.

“My research shows how combining disciplines can offer new insights into ancient beliefs, and it highlights how astronomy connects humanity across cultures, geography, and time. This paper is an exciting start to a larger project to catalogue and study the multicultural mythology of the Milky Way.”

IMAGE....The attached image shows the sky goddess Nut, covered in stars, is held aloft by her father, Shu, and is arched over Geb, her brother the Earth god. On the left, the rising sun (the falcon-headed god Re) sails up Nut’s legs. On the right, the setting sun sails down her arms towards the outstretched arms of Osiris, who will regenerate the sun in the netherworld during the night. Credit E. A. Wallis Budge, The Gods of the Egyptians, Vol. 2 (Methuen & Co., 1904).

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #astrophysics

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bestiarium · 2 years

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The Abiku [African/Yoruba/Nigerian mythology]

The Yoruba people are an ethnic group who live in what is now Nigeria. In their religion, Abiku are vile, evil spirits with little or no redeeming qualities. Mostly nocturnal, these beings come together at dusk and dawn and congregate in high treetops, darkened corners of homes, and similar spots. Their goal is to search human settlements to find pregnant women. When a suitable target is located, an Abiku will attempt to enter the body of the woman, which they can do because these spirits are incorporeal beings. Once inside the womb, the evil spirit will completely destroy the unborn baby. It will then shape a new body for itself, in the form of a human foetus, which it inhabits.

Eventually, the baby is born just like a normal child. But it is not a human being. The Abiku, now in the form of a newborn infant, will transform into an adult when its mother is sleeping and wander around the town at night. It does this so it can still attend the nocturnal gatherings of the Abiku spirits.

The goal of the Abiku is to collect the tears of a mother, but I am uncertain whether these tears are their nourishment or if they are used as a form of currency among the spirits. Whatever the reason, they will try dirty tricks to obtain these tears. Abiku are known to kill their own body (this does not kill the spirit itself), making the mother think that her child died. The spirit will then wait until the woman gets pregnant again and replace another child, often repeating this process many times in a row with the same woman. And every time the mother weeps for her deceased children, the Abiku collects the tears. However, there are stories of Abiku who remained in their human form for years or even over a decade before dying, in rare cases even reaching adulthood and having their own children.

When a couple suspects they’re being targeted by an Abiku, they sometimes hire a Babalawo, which is a kind of medicine-man or priest in the Yoruba religion. He can attempt to convince the spirit to stop, but there is no solution or cure that can drive away an Abiku.

Finally – and this is just speculation on my part – I belief the myth of the Abiku might have originated as a way to explain why a woman had several miscarriages in a row. Alternatively, given that it was possible for an Abiku to remain in its human form for years, this might have been a way to explain people with physical birth defects or severe mental illnesses. People might have thought that they were eldritch spirits who replaced the original human baby, like the fairy changelings of British folktales.

Source: Thomas, D. and Alanamu, T., 2018, African religions: beliefs and practises throughout history, ABC-CLIO, 284 pp. (image source: EnvakEnkaqti)

#African mythology #Yoruba mythology #Nigerian mythology #spirits #ghosts #myths #mythology #folklore

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pyrotheghosty · 19 days

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This here is Luna! She's one of the lads, the guys, the boys. She is a Dragon Hybrid, Necromancer, that can talk to ghosts (Yes, I know it's a mouth full, sue me). Unlike most necromancers, she only reanimated animals. She believes a creature of innocence deserves a second chance at life.

Due to being part dragon she has a hoard. Unlike dragons, instead of hoarding gold, jewels, or silks, she hoards bones. She likes to collect the skeleton of deceased animals to one day give them a body again and fully reanimate them.

Side note: In order to reanimate creatures in this world, you need a full skeleton. Most human bodies are easy because they're in graveyards, but animals are harder because often their remains get scattered due to scavenging.

She spends most of her time with ghosts or her best friend Shadow. She runs a potion shop and will take the occasional psychic job on the side. (Being a psychic medium is uncommon but not unheard of for dragons they are just never particularly strong because they have to learn the magic and you are significantly weaker when you learn this ability without the affinity for it. As long as she pretends it's a weak gift, she's okay)

Luna has to keep her necromancy hidden because in this world, it is illegal to be a necromancer. She was born with the ability (very rare for a Dragon because they have "natural" elements like fire or water, not "unnatural" elements like for example reanimation the dead) and therefore can't get rid of it, so she hides.

She has to keep hiding it from everyone but Shadow. Her life is the same until she meets an angel on a mission from heaven and is dragged along for the ride. Despite knowing that this Angel, the enforcer of the law against necromancy, despite trying her dawned hardest, she starts to fall for the angel.

Here's a brief lore dump about Luna in her fun little story. I'll be posting about the other characters in this story in the next few days. Let me know if you all want an official lore dump instead of this chaos fueled rant about Luna!

#oc art #artwork #artists on tumblr #digital painting #digital art #original art #original character #original female character #dragon character #my ocs #oc #oc lore #this is my child be nice #necromancer #dragon hybrid #gay ocs #shes a gay little lad for her angel girlfriend #I have so much to talk about but I must resist the temptaion to lore dump because I actually want to post comics on here

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l1ttles3am0th · 9 months

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Vee’s SuperUltraMega Personal and Blog Intro!

(Expand To Read)

WELL LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND EVERYONE ELSE, ITS FINALLY TIME I GOT AROUND TO THIS! I’ve put this off for quite a while since I don’t really use this ex-hellsite, but here we go regardless! Below, you’ll see about stuff, a byf and dni, and some basic interests. Collapsed for the sake of not overtaking your entire page.

ABOUT

NAMES: Vee, Moth, Sunny, Blair, Goldie

AGE: Minor

PRONOUNS: They/Ae + Ember/Glow/Neon/Mist/Bloom/Peony/Star/Sea/Moth/Wish/Lune/Sun/Moon/Fleur/Fox/Petal/Sunset/Astra/Gleam/Sky/Autumn/Dawn/Dusk/☆/♪/♫/♡/❀/☾/🌈/🔥/✨/🌻/🌸/🌅/🐠/🐬/🌺/🍒/🦋/🌙/🌌/🪻/🍁/🦊 (SEASONAL: Trick/Spook/Boo/Pumpkin/Bat/👻/🎃/🐈‍⬛/🕸️)[Refer to my pronouns.cc if you want to figure out how the hell to use 98% of these]

TERMS: Feminine + Neutral (Some Masculine terms i.e. “Dude” and “Bro” too!)

GENDER: Femme Non-Binary w/ 150+ Xenogenders

SEXUALITY: Asexual Lesbian

OTHER IDENTITIES: Otherkin, Non-Human

KINTYPES: Demon / Fallen Angel (Also Cathearted + Dollhearted)

DISABILITIES: Autism + OCD, C-PTSD (All prof. diagnosed)

RACIAL/ETHNIC BACKGROUND: White

RELIGIOUS BELIEFS: Nonreligious, Pantheistic

LANGUAGES: English (Native), Russian (Sporadic Beginner)

BEFORE YOU INTERACT

-I tend to type in a formal, ostensibly-grammatical manner, that may or may not have some errors. As a result, I may edit posts or comments multiple times in a single 30-second period if I see any. I also have a large vocabulary and lean towards the bigger words in it whenever possible, so please feel free to ask for definitions!

-I have a difficult time understanding social cues, and when problems arise, I need to be told clearly, immediately, and with enough detail to get me to understand. If you do not do that, I genuinely won’t understand what I did wrong.

-As much as I’d like to NOT get involved in discourse, I might throw my hat into the ring occasionally.

-I really don’t give too much of a damn about problematic media, as I don’t have the mental energy to half the time. As long as the creator isn’t an active danger to children, animals, and/or the deceased, I won’t bother you about a particular piece of media. Although, I will sometimes discuss stuff related to it if need-be.

-I draw. Need I say more? I post more frequently on Instagram at @l1ttles3am0th!

DO NOT INTERACT

-Basic DNI Critera (Bigots, Paraphiliacs, Proshippers, etc.)

-Blacklist Residents (BickerySebastian, Lux, SharkyNatty, BadBoyBingus, A certain fruit-themed ex-acquaintance [Bingus is only here because they asked me to DNI as well, and they’re the only one here I actually respect.])

-Anti of xenogenders, neopronouns, otherkin, etc.

INTERACT WITH CAUTION

-DSMP Fans

-Fans of absolutely, irreparably irredeemable stuff (See BYF For Criterion)

INTERESTS / LIKES

-FNaF

-Helluva Boss

-Sailor Moon

-Evangelion

-Fallout

-Portals (Album)

-123 Slaughter Me Street

-Garten of BanBan (Yes.)

-Cats

-Nature

-Dress-Up

-Rainbows (If you couldn’t already tell)

-Foodfight (2012)

-Nightcore Music

-Classical Music

-Royalcore

-Aesthetics

FRIENDS AND MUTUALS

-To be filled out.

BLINKIES

——

CHANGELOG

DATE OF CREATION: August 12th, 2023

October 24th, 2023: Added this changelog. Added a title to the blog and moved the opening text to behind the expand button. Updated my about me to add xenopronouns that were added to the collection since the creation of this post. Switched out prns.page for prns.cc officially. Prns.page will be kept as a backup for if the ship sinks. Edited my blacklist with new additions. (Edit 2: Added blinkies. Thank you to @3v3ry0n3z-fav3-al13n-x3 for the inspiration!)

#blog intro #introducing post #introduction #otherkin #demonkin #fallen angelkin #otherhearted #xenogenderuser #neurodivergent #neurospicy #autistic artist

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ashs-random-writing · 1 year

Text

Dancing with Death

Chapter 1~ laughter

Ao3

Reblogs>>>>likes

Virgil has been the God of Death since the dawn of time. He had earned many titles from the mortals, though his favourite was 'The Grim Reaper'. Once in the afterlife, most know him as King Virgil

Patton, as the recently deceased, gets led into the afterlife by a cloaked, masked figure. He wants to know more about them

When Patton died, it was a bit of a shock. He was a young adult, he was pretty normal, and then suddenly... all of that was gone. Some of the people he had known in life may have been upset

Patton wouldn’t know. He was escorted to the afterlife pretty much immediately. He hadn’t slept in about a week, which Patton realised was probably the cause of his death.

Could you blame him, though? His friends needed help! They needed comfort and advice for matters that were more pressing than any of his, and he may have not slept as much as he could’ve, but he couldn’t stop helping them. He only stopped for a small nap before waking up untethered from his body

He looked at the person guiding him. They were tall (maybe seven foot), with a dark purple cloak, almost black in colour. They had grey skin, and sunken cheeks, but he could barely see that due to the skeletal mask they wore.

It had cracks in the design, and was a muted gold colour. The person didn’t speak, not when Patton asked where they were going. They didn’t even seem to react. Patton tried to make light of the situation, and looked at the skeletal figure with a small smile

“With how tired I was, I guess you could say I was... dead on my feet” He watched their reaction carefully, noting how the corners of their lips quirked up into an amused smile before falling into the same emotionless face again.

They walked into the afterlife and Patton watched as they grew and grew into an ethereal giant, and Patton joined crowds of other souls.

The afterlife was vast, infinite even, but he could get wherever he wanted to go if he walked for a while. It would come to him.

The afterlife was an always shifting, always changing paradise, but what never changed was that in the middle of it all was a giant castle made of dark bricks. It was like something you’d see in a Halloween movie, Patton thought.

He had asked who lived there (lived being a relative term), and an older soul explained that was where the god of the dead resided.

King Virgil, apparently. He was the one who guided the souls, according to the person he was talking to. Patton thought about his journey to the afterlife; it was quick, but Patton would never forget it.

According to everyone else, the king never spoke, and almost never left his castle, except to collect the recently deceased. Most people seemed scared of him, which Patton could understand. When they were in the afterlife, he was over 90 feet tall, and with the not-talking thing, and spooky castle, and death theme, he seemed rather intimidating.

Patton thought about the smile he had seen on the kings face when he had made a joke. Was the king really that scary?

He spent a year or two after that simply exploring. Time worked different in the afterlife; he didn’t know how he knew that but he did. A year there could be a minute to the outside world

The afterlife was large, and he found himself connecting with a few old friends, and he found himself staring at the king every time he left the castle. Patton found out that his majesty wasn’t supposed to be guiding the souls himself

He was supposed to have an apprentice like the other gods. Patton never even knew there were other gods. Virgil was only supposed to be ruling over the dead while the apprentice/apprentices collected the souls

No one had decided to become apprentice to the Death God, even when the Gods were worshipped widely. Apparently, it was seen as bad luck to devote your life to death, even if you couldn’t actually start working until you died. It was said to be like a curse upon those closest to the apprentice, to always die soon after choosing.

Patton doubted that. He had never believed much in superstition, not since it made people hate little black cats. He applied.

That’s not to say he wasn’t nervous, he definitely was, but the god was probably lonely, no one to teach and no one in that truly ginormous castle with him

He had spoken with a few people who had applied and almost immediately quit because the whole thing was too off-putting for them, and King Virgil still never took the mask off and was ‘staring at them with the empty black eyes of the mask’

Patton didn’t mind if he kept the mask on or off. The people who had been in the afterlife for over a thousand earth years didn’t seem to be as scared, but as soon as the god got anywhere near any ‘villages’, they would avoid.

Some claimed that they had once heard his voice, and never wanted to hear it again, that it sounded like a thousand damned souls calling out to them to join them, that it hurt if you thought about it too much

Patton was sceptical of that, but he recognised that they were scared nonetheless and didn’t push it.

He knew immediately when his application was accepted, as he felt something connecting him to the castle, to the king himself. He shivered, but he didn’t back down. A letter came through his door a few minutes later, on black paper with golden ink.

It was detailing what exactly the apprenticeship would entail, a few months of training, shadowing the reaper as he collected souls, and eventually doing the collecting on his own.

The letter also stated that he was free to back out at any time. He was to start the next morning

He walked up to the castle doors, noting that he was barely the size of a single brick. At exactly the time he was scheduled to start, the large wooden doors opened and the king was stood there at his giant, towering height. Patton was led inside, and Virgil still didn’t speak to him or take his mask off

Patton worked through training for the next few months, which seemed to surprise Virgil. The training was partly how to open the veil between the living realm and the realm of the dead, partly how to make the souls follow you, partly how to wield time magic to make sure you manage to collect each soul on time. Patton had even got a matching cloak to Virgil’s! Though his was blue, not purple

Virgil still never spoke. Patton got his instructions from slips of paper and gestures the king made. Though, he did laugh at one of Patton’s jokes, which was most certainly a win.

It was time to learn how to collect the souls. He followed Virgil through a curtained door

Virgil hadn’t expected his new apprentice to stick around long enough to actually learn something. None of the others had.

He didn’t mean to scare people, but it was so hard not to. They were scared when he was silent, they were scared when he spoke, they were scared of the mask, they were scared when he took the mask off. He just couldn’t win with them

Patton didn’t seem to mind very much. Patton seemed the most promising of everyone. He could remember collecting Patton’s soul. He had caught him off guard with a joke of all things

Virgil usually never reacted to the recently deceased’s jokes, especially never when it was about their deaths, but this one came right out of the blue and surprised him, and he had smiled.

Patton was a cheerful dude, a little too eager to be helpful if the way he died was any indication. Virgil may have to take the mortal to a therapist if Patton kept putting himself last. Virgil wasn't the best model of mental health but even he knew that wasn't healthy

Virgil taught Patton how to separate the veil, and Patton followed him with an eagerness to learn, to help guide people

It was refreshing from the usual fearful apprehension he was met with. Mortals always wanted to try to escape death, the very thing Virgil represented. They hated the idea of death, the idea of Virgil

And, Virgil would be lying if he said that didn’t make him at least a little bit upset. Patton hadn’t tried to run, or evade. He hadn’t tried to seek out death either, and Virgil admitted that was a good course to take.

As much as Virgil valued his domain, he knew that it was better for mortals to live out their full, short lives as they were supposed to before joining him.

Patton almost always had a smile on his face, and he just kept making jokes. Virgil actually laughed at one of them, instead of just smiling. He guided the apprentice towards the living realm for collection training.

When they went through the curtain, they evened out to roughly the same height, though Virgil was still taller by quite a bit.

The first victim was a middle aged woman who had unfortunately gotten into a car crash. Her body was still in the driver’s seat. She was crying.

Virgil looked at Patton, who was starting to move forward to comfort her. Virgil didn’t hear what was being said, but she soon let them lead her to the after life.

There were many souls to collect, and Patton didn’t drop his cheerful, friendly demeaner at all. Except when they got into Virgil’s castle again and he looked up at Virgil, looking sad. Virgil could almost hear the tears that he could tell were being held in

“How? How do you manage it? Having to guide everyone, when they’re so upset about something that can’t be fixed?”

Virgil sighed sadly, conjuring another note

‘it is hard,’ was what was written ‘but it must be done’

Patton nodded up at him, and Virgil let a small smile down.

---

Taglist: @a-chilly-pepper

#sanders side fic #sanders sides story #sanders sides fic #sanders sides #sanders sides gt #sanders sides g/t #sanders sides ghost #grim reaper #death #death virgil #human patton #deity virgil #my writing

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