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kemeticdevotee · 2 months

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Osiris/Ausir, God of the Duat, life and rebirth

Who is Osiris?

Osiris is the son of the Sky Goddess Nut and Earth God Geb. His siblings are Isis, who is also his wife, Seth and Nepthys. He was said to be one of the first Pharoahs of Egypt. He civilized the people and taught agriculture. He is the God of agriculture, life, death, fertility and the king of the Underworld, the Duat.

During Osiris' reign, his younger brother Seth, jealous of his power to rule, murdered him. Seth invited him to a party, and had out a bejewelled box which he promised to anybody who could fit inside of it. After many failed attempts by the others at the celebration, Osiris gave it a try. He fit perfectly inside the box, which would become his coffin. The box was shut, sealed with molten lead and then promptly thrown into the Nile River.

When the Queen, Isis, found out, she was devastated, and went to search for her husband's body. The myths vary on how she did this, but most say she became a babysitter for the Queen of Babylon's young son, as Osiris' coffin was tangled in a tree in the back of the palace. Once she acquired Osiris' body, she brought him back to life with her magic. Osiris then became king of the Duat. This is just one telling of a variety of re-tellings.

When the Pharoah died, he was associated with Osiris, and the heir to the throne was associated with Osiris' son, Horus.

His festivals include the Osiris mysteries, and the raising of the pillar ceremony.

Symbols

Colours green, black

The djed pillar 𓊽

Crook and Fail

Atef crown

Ostrich feathers

Soil

Acacias, willows, sycamores, cedar

Adze blade (opening of the mouth)

Offerings

Cool water, beer, wine

Bread, sour dough, grain products,

Frankincense, myrrh

Iris, orris root, easter lily

Gold, lapis Lazuli, malachite, obsidian

Epithets

Mighty One

Ruler of Life

Who is in Abydos

Lord of love

True of Voice

Divine Father

Lord of Silence

Weary of heart

Prayer

Hail to you, Osiris Lord of Eternity, king of gods, Of many names, of holy forms, Of secret rites in temples!

Lord of remembrance in the Hall of Justice, Secret Ba of the lord of the cavern, Ba of Re, his very body. Lord of acclaim in the southern sky, Sanctified by the northern sky, The imperishable stars are under his rule, The unwearying stars are his abode, The ancestors rejoice to see him. Those yonder are in awe of him.

#osiris #kemetic #egyptian gods #witches #witchcraft #kemeticism

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kaetsu-daniel · 3 months

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Message of the evening 26/02/2024, taking a break when needed.

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Hello everyone and good evening! i shuffled the box with the cartouche of the Netjeru and it seems Nepthys has something to say! let's see what she has to tell us :)

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Four of swords reversed: Exhaustation, burn-out and deep contemplation

My dear, it seems Nepthys is saying you may be exhausting yourself, you are burning yourself out, causing yourself to go in a deep contemplation.. take this card as a message that you need to rest top recharge your energies as you seem very drained.. i can sense with this card's energy that you are very drained that there are almost no energies left in you because of what's going. Take some time to rest or else you won't be able to help anyone if you don't have energies. Take this time to contemplate a little and rest

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Knight of wands upright: Energy, Passion and Impulsiveness

You have lots of passion and energy, i can feel it in this card, but you are also being very impulsive, which makes me visualise the knight in the cards basically hitting somewhere because of being impulsive and too energetic, your energy and passion are very contagious, but careful on how you do things as you are being impulsive right now.

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The chariot reversed: Self-discipline and lack of direction

You are allowing obstacles and challenges to get in the way of you and they are preventing you from achieving your goals and what you set out to do and you are lacking direction in where you are going. Listen to the other 2 cards, take a break, think and then go again, but that only after doing what the other 2 cards suggested you to do. Have some self-discipline!

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It seems we also have a message from Nepthys! let's see what she has to say.

Message from Nepthys

"My dear, you are energetic, yet impulsive in what you are doing, and by doing so you are exhausting yourself out, talk to me if you need and i'll help you out as much as possible :), i won't leave you behind so do not have fear about taking a break, you highly deserve this break right now after everything you've done, it will help you reason better and not be as impulsive ^^, i am here for you and i trust in you that you'll be able to make it! i root for you, and i'll always be here for you."

-Nepthys

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And this was today's message of the evening! i'll see you all tomorrow! byeee~~ and remember to always take care of yourself and take a break when needed o3o.

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(A reminder that this message may not resonate with everyone so take only what resonates ^^.)

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lightdancer1 · 2 years

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Wrapping up the Dawn of the Endless series today:

And the next one that's in its formative stages is my first set of stories to decisively break with a formula I've pretty much explored any possible angle I could want to tell and to expand on the idea of just how many different facets there are to exploring Death and her realm as the central characters of a story.

This can be done for literally all of the Endless, Death is just the one that as my profile pic indicates has both my heart and my focus of creative stuff.

The new series will be Tales of the Sunless Lands, which will include glimpses of Death-as-Nepthys and Death-as-Hel, as well as exploring the broader stuff I've been laying out for the realm and establishing a coherent 'map' and outlay of it.

I will also note other than Death that one of the Endless with the most fertile ground for storytelling would be Delirium, as she's established as one of the other ones that wanders and interacts with mortals. Though her stories would be more surrealistic horror tales that would bring Sandman stories back to the original roots as horror.

#death of the endless #dawn of the endless #one series down

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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

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#today is pixel day it seems #my art #roots and nepthys #funny thing is no way I can upload this to pixiart #roots and nepthys art

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greenwitchcrafts · 3 years

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Today's herb of the day is Lily!

Gender: Feminine

Planet: Moon

Element: water

WARNING: Lily pollen is extremely toxic to cats and should be handled accordingly.

Magickal uses:

Plant by your house to deter unwanted visitors, carry in a satchet or amulet to break love spells, add an infusion to a ritual bath for fertility, use in other spell workings for additional strength, hang, plant or place lily inside (or out) of your home to drive away negativity, spirits and curses. Use as an incense or burn to aid in contact with deities, angels and spirit guides. Good for fertility, protection, renewal, happiness, breaking spells, divination, marriage and renewal.

Other uses:

Boil the roots or bulbs into a tea, it can treat stomach issues and fevers and can help women during labor. Lilies are also used to treat skin ulcers, inflammation, burns and rashes as well, the roots can be formed into an ointment that aids in preventing the formation of scar tissue.

Deities:

Juno, Kwan, Venus, Yin and Nepthys

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chaoswillfallrpg · 3 years

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LARKIN MULCIBER is TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD and a SOLIDER in THE DARK LORDS ARMY at THE DEATH EATER’S HEADQUARTERS. He looks remarkably like WOO DO-HWAN and considers himself aligned with THE DEATH EATERS. He is currently OPEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: abuse, blood, death, animal death

The king of shadows and gold, Larkin Mulciber is the chilled shiver running down the back of necks, the ominous dread held in unwelcome prying eyes and a manipulative puppeteer toying with his unwilling victims strings. While deemed psychotic by most, he was never always so twisted. Born to KYUNG MULCIBER, a man as hateful as he was cunning, Kyung single handedly raised his youngest in disgrace. Bred a tormented soul, Larkin was branded the Grim Reaper. YEONG YANG, his mother and the light of Kyung’s life, took her last breath at Larkin’s first, casting bitterness into the family's hearts. Without a single word of kindness, Larkin was resented by those supposed to grace him with care. Interactions were met with hostility and volatile anger; even from the likes of the house elves who once idealised their mistress. Growing in the fall of his mother’s glory, hidden in the secluded mountains of the Lake District enchanted barriers kept the Mulciber manor secluded from unwelcome guests. Isolated and with a severe lack of love, Larkin’s youth was spent whispering secrets to spiders dangling off chandeliers; while his father secluded himself to the west wing never to be disturbed. With his father absent and cold, Larkin tried earnestly to grasp onto pieces of a parent. Hours spent by candle light in the family library, from archives detailed in gold and towering family portraits, he formed a fragmented image. A woman once powerful, resilient and beautiful, illuminated in piercing emeralds that matched her eyes; his late mother. Someone he thought could have loved him, if only Morgana had been kind.

With wealth and a line as Pure-Blooded as those belonging to The Sacred-Twenty Eight, the family reveled in a deep rooted sense of entitlement. Renowned for possessing an aptitude for the dark arts, purist rhetoric was laced in their lives from dusk till dawn. Breeding chaos, while Kyung praised ERIS and JAE in glory, Larkin was cursed into darkness and strife. Companion only to those who too grew in neglect, spiders, bats and screeching owls looked upon the bruised boy of woe with sorrow, offering comfort. Just like his siblings Larkin was taught not what beauty magic held, but what power. Growling voices with a tone as sharp as poison scorned him, disapproving glares reflected in the shattered mirrored walls of the Mulciber ballroom turned training arena, distorted and manic as his father’s teachings turned cruel. Harnessing darkness, unregistered Gregorovitch wands concealed their illegal activities from the Ministry of Magic, enabling them to continue their legacy of turmoil and devastation all while slipping through the grasps of the law. The eldest Eris, named after the goddess of chaos and strife herself, channeled internalised anger into the cruel art of the Cruciatus curse. Second born, Jae’s handsome features acted as the perfect deception for the master of death; with Avarda Kavarda being his speciality. Leaving Larkin to master the complexity of the mind and the Imperius curse. Divine and divisive, the family were notorious for playing Merlin himself as they manipulated powers beyond their control. Together, the trio made a master of sin and torment.

Desperate for gratification and to be seen in the same glory as his siblings, Larkin’s sensibility grew cruel in a plight to prove his worth. Cursing the house elves with a flick of his finger, he left them dangling on the ceiling with a twisted grin all for a glimmer of respect to flicker in his fathers eyes. The more souls he puppertered, the more praise he received. Forging himself into a sinner in a plea to gain what he could only dream of; acceptance from his father. While his siblings attended Dumstrung, Kyung expressed that Larkin's talents would be better suited to that of Hogwarts. Speaking tales of a heroic wizard whom he had once schooled with know as THE DARK LORD, Kyung spoke of a new world where those inferior would finally know their place. Entrusted on a quest to befriend like minded sorcerers, Larkin vowed to find those as equally wicked. Cunning as the devil, the sorting hat barely graced his head before announcing his rightful place in Slytherin. Strong willed and determined, he basked in the notorious nature of his family's legacy. Gaining respect from the likes of PERSEPHONE, NEPHTHYS and RABASTAN for his damming schemes and competent hexes; Larkin was renowned as the king of chaos. Joint in arms, JASPAR AVERY was from a reputable family, though entitled he held little promise in Larkin’s eyes of matching his wits; but made a reputable ally. Second in their ranks was SEVERUS SNAPE, an odd wizard with an aptitude for potions, despite his scorned Half-Blood status, his intellect was more akin to his own. Donned in their Slytherin uniform, the trio quickly became notoriously known for their vile pranks on those they deemed unworthy to study magic.

Basking in others misfortune and consumed with desire to appease his family, Larkin fell into a suffocating kingdom of darkness. That was, until he met them. MARY MACDONALD was everything he wasn’t. Kind hearted with a warm disposition, if Larkin was the king of the underworld, Mary was the beautiful wix dancing in golden fields above. A Muggle-Born and adored friend of annoyances JAMES, SIRIUS, REMUS and PETER, Jaspar dared him to bring the sweet creature to ruin in their cruelest scheme yet. What had started as a ploy to break the wix’s heart, turned into a secret relationship hidden in the shadows of the clocktower. Despite himself, he fell in love with Mary. Intoxicated by their light and the only person to ever bring warmth to his cold heart, Larkin grew desperate in his attempts to keep their love a secret. Anonymous letters and aloof passings, despite efforts to conceal their passion Nephthys caught a stolen glimpse between the pair one cold December night. Outraged that he’d betrayed the sanctity of magic, she deemed him a blood-traitor for his evident adoration for a filthy mudblood. Threatening to expose his fraternization with her wand pointed to his throat, Larkin became agonisingly aware that even the rumor of affection would leave Mary dead by dawn. Never knowing a monster that they were unable to love, Larkin knew Mary would be obstinate in their belief that love conquered all. But with Nepthys threats lingering over his head, logically he knew the only way to guarantee their safety was to make an example of them.

Plotting in an aid to set them free and comforted in the knowledge it would merely put Mary into a dreamlike state; Larkin encapsulated them in his arms and stole one last kiss before uttering ‘Imperio’. Instantly Mary’s love faded to a vacant expression; leaving them completely at his disposal. Encouraged by Jasper’s twisted grin, they left torment in their wake. Killing Flinch’s cat, Mary’s hands covered in blood, they set to their final destination of The Black Lake. Floating like Ophelia with their lace dress billowing around them, Larkin was moments from sinking Mary briefly into the water’s dark depths when LILY EVANS made her presence known. Concentration broken, Mary’s piercing screams of terror echoed around the grounds cutting Larkin’s heart like a knife. Quickly expelled, he left Hogwarts donned a hero by purists alike. But for once, he didn’t feel pride in his actions, instead, remorsed in sorrow of the consequences. Finishing his final years of education at Durmstrung, Larkin’s dove into his studies with cruel intent. Donned a lone wolf by peers such as MEI-LING FALKOV and JUDAH ILLIOTT, while the school harboured those residing in darkness; none held Larkin’s unique sense of chaos. Wandless magic for unforgivable curses was rare and known by few, including the Muclibers who left many pleading for mercy with a mere curl of their hand. Seeking power in destruction, those that feared him donned him a monster. Stalking dark alleys in his black jacket embossed with scales, Larkin sunk his teeth into the pits of hell daring it to fight back. Gone were the flowers Mary had once laid, left only an empty chasm of a man; unhinged and dangerous with little left to lose.

While his relatives prided their superiority through status, Larkin’s renowned talents made him a vital recruit into The Dark Lord’s army. Graduating, Larkin has become an esteemed member in the fight for the new world. Settling on the outer banks of London with a heart rotted black, darkness swarms like a whirlpool in his chest. His free time spent lingering in the shadows playing with the minds of the undeserving, tarantula resting on his shoulder. Under the orders of CASTOR and BELLATRIX, Larkin is gathering information on those who could cause complications to The Dark Lord’s plans. Sniffing out Blood-Traitors, Larkin is playing the unsuspected in a plight to move up in the ranks. GILFRED ABBOTT, was the perfect victim for his scheme. Suspecting little when questions from Larkin’s lips instead left the young Gryffindor’s; his sweet demeanour acts as the perfect mask to torment. Though as charmed as his antics are, he has his sights set on bigger fish; DOUGAL, COINNEACH, NATHAIR and MARLENE MCKINNON, a family seeking to devalue Pure-Blood legacy by allowing a Muggle-Born into their ranks was the perfect target to finally bring him to glory. Fueled by underlying jealousy at their free love, Larkin is scheming to ruin the family from the inside. Word from REGINA ROWLE, reveals Nathair as the wizard who reported the recent prophecy to the Ministry. While the other McKinnon siblings shout for equality, Larkin has his eyes set on the brother that prefers the shadows than the light. Calculating his plans, he knows Nathair will be the undoing of the family, if only he pulls on the right set of strings.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male

Sexuality → Pansexual

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin) & Durmstrang Institute

Family → Kyung Mulciber (father), Yeong Mulciber (mother), Eris Mulciber (sister), Jae Mulciber (brother), Jieun Mulciber (aunt)

Connections → Jaspar Avery (best friend), Severus Snape (best friend), Castor Wilkes (mentor), Bellatrix Black (friend/colleague), Persephone Wilkes (close friend), Nephthys Nott (close friend/adversary), Rabastan Lestrange (friend) Mary MacDonald (ex-partner/potential love interest/adversary), Mei-Ling Falkov (aquaintance/classmate), Judah Illiott (adversary/classmate), Regina Rowle (informant), Sirius Black (adversary), James Potter (adversary), Remus Lupin (adversary), Peter Pettigrew (adversary), Dougal McKinnon (person of interest), Coinneach McKinnon (person of interest), Nathair McKinnon (aquaintance/person of interest), Marlene McKinnon (adversary/person of interest), Lily Evans (adversary), Dorcas Meadows (adversary),

Future Information → N/A

LARKIN MULCIBER IS A LEVEL 7 WIZARD.

#larkin mulciber #woo do-hwan #marauders rp #marauders rpg #harry potter rp #wizard #magic #death eater #dark #tw: abuse #tw: death #tw: blood #tw: animal death #open #open death eater #open wizard #open lgbtqia+

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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

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Screw the timeline or else I'll never get this done with

Masterlists

Cw: recapture mention; past abuse mention, collar

He felt the gentle sunlight brushing his cheek... Soft sheets underneath him, and a fluffy blanket. The wiggling of a carriage, carrying them into somewhere, as the sun alternated with patches of shade.

Roots struggles to get up, and even more to recall the events of last night. He took his hand to his neck instinctively, rubbing that tender spot of skin... and felt nothing, nothing over the scars and bruises. No collar.

He truly looked around this time. It wasn't the generals carriage, it wasn't that awful mansion. It was a small carriage - bigger on the inside - filled with pots and herbs and stuffing and things.

And in the corner, peeking over a book, his witch smiled at him. He... Felt the tears starting to run down his face, as she put the book down and came to sit at the edge of the bed.

"Hi..." She whispered, with a smile.

...How long had it been? That little child he last saw running through the woods was now an adult, tired purple eyes staring at him, so filled with.... With emotions roots couldn't read anymore. It had been too long.

"Hey..." He whimpered back, in between saggy breaths.

Despite how relived, how happy he was.... He was still in pain. And there was a longing sense of sadness in the air. Of failure.

It had been so long... They weren't even the same anymore, were they? He had done thing he would never forgive himself for. He had things done to him that he would never forget. And the girl in front of him... Had an entire life now, away from him, and tainted at every turn by that desperate feeling to save him, despite everything.

He lowered his head. He... Wanted to turn into a cat again. He didn't have the collar anymore, he should be able to do it and yet... Couldn't.

She swept a tear from his face.

"hey... It's alright" she whispered "you are home"

"...Sorry"

He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for. She shook her head.

"No. I'm sorry it took me so long"

And she looked down, a hand on his chest. Heart, beating heart.

Nepthys seemed to remember something, fishing something from the pocket of the long dress. A little... toy? A small plush, that looked like him.

"Fern gave this little guy years ago. But... I have you back, now"

Roots stared at the little thing. It looked like... What he had once been. Not anymore. He looked away, and she... Just put the little down beside him.

"Where... Where are we going?"

"Faraway. They are after us now" and she saw the panic in his eyes and tried to offer him a comforting smile "...they won't get us. Promise"

Roots smiled back, praying that it was true.

@talk-to-rock

I should have someone else on taglist but i lost it :(

#roots and nepthys #whump #whump writing #fantasy whump

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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

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Witch’s Familiar

CW: Dehumanization; starvation; collar; cage; hand-feeding; slapping; magical restrains;

…The tiny little chameleon was nearly invisible in the crowded shelves. But the cat could see it. And it knew too that it wasn’t just a regular animal. It was the familiar of a witch, and being here, in the Generals’ house, meant it was in great danger.

…As if to mock his concern, the chameleon lazily licked at its eyeballs, reaching its paws forward to stretch, uncaring about the General and his soldiers discussing in the room below.

“…What are you looking at cat?” The General said, tugging at his leash. He whimpered back in response, keeping his eyes down for a moment, so the General wouldn’t follow them. When he looked back at the shelves, the chameleon was gone.

“Nothing… Master”

“…Stupid kitty, are you?”

“…Of course, Master. I’m sorry”

Roots looked down at its hands, placed over its knees on the position he had been taught. Kneeling. Submissive. The Chameleon was still there somewhere. It could feel it. And knowing that one of its own kin it saw him in this estate, was more humiliating than being in front of a thousand soldiers.

He was also worried, a knot on his throat. Roots wanted it to just leave. Run to safety while it still could.

And it seemed like it did. For a while, he didn’t saw the chameleon. Dinner went as usual, the general and his favorite man at the mansion and the rest of his soldiers outside on the patio. Roots sat obediently by the side of the general, and every once in a while, he or some of his soldiers would throw him a piece of food.

He was allowed to eat those, as long as he didn’t go far from the General. At first, he refused. It was too humiliating to crawl and beg for food… But they didn’t gave him any food otherwise, and hunger was a powerful force, eating away the body from inside out. So after a few days of starving, he had found himself playing their game. Now, it was already part of routine.

He even already knew who the soldiers who liked him were, the ones that gave the best scraps. Today, however, he stuck close to Master. He didn’t want to leave. He felt watched, more than usual. He felt the colorful reptile eyes still burning onto him.

...A slap. It wasn’t hard, just to call his attention. The general was offering him a piece of meat, and he hadn’t noticed.

He meowned and took it with his mouth, leaning into his hand for a pet.

“What’s with you today Kitty?” the general asked, frowning.

“Sorry, Master” He looked down. Didn’t want the General to see him. What if he noticed? There were times where he didn’t doubt the general could read his mind “I… Didn’t sleep well. I’ll focus better. Promise”

“You better, kitty” the General said, with a grim.

He stayed on edge after that, despite not seeing the Chameleon again. He kept wandering what that visit was for. Was it here to finally end his misery? Or to throw in an accusation in name of all those he had killed?

He didn’t know, as he crawled up inside his cage that served as his ‘bed. The General padlocked it as usual, leaving Roots alone and going to take care of his business.

…He was finally starting to believe the chameleon had left – had been smart and escaped this hell – when he noticed it again, at the windowsill.

“…What are you here for” he said, pulling his knees close, the most his knees allowed “They’ll find you”

The chameleon yawns again and transforms into a short, weird looking person, with colors off and constantly changing.

“No, no, don’t do that!” And Roots grabs at its neck – at the awful metal ring collar, inbued with magic, stealing him of his shape “…Why are you here? They’ll take you too…”

“…Your witch wants you back”

“….I don’t deserve her”

“Yet she wants you back”

“I betrayed our kind”

“…Yet she wants you back”

“…It’s pointless. I’m not the same. I’ve done things I can never forgive myself for. I worked for them, I…” he stopped when he noticed his voice turning into a sob.

“You’ve been here for far too long. They got to your head” the chameleon shrugs “…that’s expected. But if you were truly theirs, you’d have told your precious general about me”

“…So you’ve bet your life I wouldn’t”

“It appears I won”

…He leans away.

“…I can’t transform” he points at the collar “Besides… He would find out if we tried anything”

“I noticed” …And licks his eyeballs again “We don’t know how to get rid of that. Yet”

Roots nods. Then… They don’t know how to take him out of this place either. Weirdly enough… He feels relieved. He isn’t sure he has the courage to try and run anymore. He doesn’t know if he wants to. He certainly does not deserve to be free.

The chameleon person fumbles with their clothes, pulling something out of their pocket and hands it to him.

Doll.

A little doll. Dressed in frully purple dress, and purple button eyes. Nepthys. His Nepthys.

“W-what-“ he looks back at the chameleon, but they are already gone. He holds the doll close to its chest… He has to hide it now. He has to keep the doll safe where the General and his man won’t find her. He has to keep her safe.

@talk-to-rock

#whump #roots and nepthys #oc whump

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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

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CW: Dehumanization; restraints; cage; kicking wounds, whip mention, I need to name all this people :’)

Don’t listen. Don’t try to understand the words. Look at the floor. Do what you are told. He grinded his teeth.

How could he not pay attention? They were talking about him. About the evil they wanted him to commit, against his own kin. The mark on his chest itched and hurt, even if it had already started to heal. It was a constant reminder of how he had been corrupted.

A harsh tug on his leash made him straighten his back. People around him looked at him as if he was a monster. Well, to them, maybe he was.

“Are you sure he will be useful?” one of the man asked the General. Everyone dressed in fine gold-embroidery, a sign of royalty.

“I’m positive” the general answered, keeping his leash pulled just a bit too far for comfort, so he couldn’t breathe right.

“…I’m not so sure, General” some woman started “…He might betray us. Executing him would be a far better option”

He wished they would listen to her. Dying would be okay. It would be far more honorable than betraying his own people.

“I’m pretty sure he won’t, mistress” the general stared coldly at him “Although he was a bit of a challenge… He is turning on a pretty good kitty. Isn’t that right?”

The leash was pulled, choking him. He nodded.

‘Y-yes…” He hated the sound of his voice. Shaky and broken and mundane, void of mystery and the magic undertones it used to have. The general placed his foot on his back, pressing the boots on his wounds until he whined in pain “The general placed his foot on his back, pressing the boots on his wounds until he whined in pain “Yes master”

“…Still a work in progress” the General smiled with his golden teeth, keeping the foot in place.

He clawed at the cold floor, the pain blinding him for a second before he could recompose. It was hard to pay attention to the conversation like this. He tried his best not to shed any tears.

He lost track of the conversation, but it seemed to go the General’s way. At least, the man started petting his head… And he hated the way he leaned into it, desperate for affection. When had he turned so needy? He was a loner before. Sure, he had Nepthys, who he loved dearly… But he never needed anyone else.

Nepthys. He closed his eyes. He had this name. He was starting to abandon his own, but he still remembered hers. For now, at least.

The leash was tugged harshly. The General had handed it to someone else, who was taking him off the room and back into his cage. A large dog-cage in the middle of The General’s house. It was better than the dungeons.

They locked him inside making sure to secure the leash as well, even tough there was no way for him to escape anyway. He curled up, the cage was barely large enough for him to sit uncomfortably, and laying properly was impossible, but he did the best he could.

The General came to see him a bit later, a vicious golden smile in his lips.

“Well done kitty” he praised, and he whined back to him “I might get a blanket for your cage later since you are being such a good kitty”

He nodded, hating the way that made him… happy. How much he wanted the fucking blanket. And more than that, how much he enjoyed the praise.

“Thank you… Master”

A blanket would be good. It would be more comfortable, maybe easier to sleep.

He closed his eyes. He missed the dreams he used to have… about smells of freshness and spice, fallen leaves, wind singing through the trees and starry nights. Now they were all dark, all pain and blood. He couldn’t escape to them anymore.

tag: @talk-to-rock

#roots and nepthys #whump #pet whump #whump writing #oc whump

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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

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The Witch’s Familiar

CW: Dehumanization, fantasy whump, non-human whumpee, exploration of themes of death;

Individual tags on each drabble.

-> Roots is the familiar spirit of a young witch named Nepthys. One day, they are found by witch hunters and Roots sacrifice himself so Nepthys can escape. She is taken as an apprentice by an older witch, meanwhile, Roots is tortured by the insiquisition members, who believe he can turn into a perfect weapon for finding and executing witches.

The Witch’s Familiar

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Art

Ask

Fanart s2: (x)

Pinterest Folder

Root’s folder

Nepthys folder

#Roots and Nepthys masterlist #Roots and Nepthys

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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

Text

CW: Burning/Branding; Whipping; Dehumanization; Shackles/Restraints; Conditioning;

Previously

“You know Kitty, this would be a lot easier if you would just… cooperate.” The General sighs, circling around Roots, letting the bloodied whip slide through the stone floor, leaving marks of blood.

Root’s sweat dropped in front of him, mixed with blood. He shivered, his whole body felt cold, except for the open wounds. His teeth clicked against each other, eyes lost on a daze. If it weren’t for the chains keeping him on place, he would’ve fallen on the ground already.

“I-i-i… can’t anymore” his voice was weak, scared and so so ashamed “I can’t…”

“…Try begging” The General said, letting the whip slip over his body, ready to be snapped and hurt him more at any time.

He lifts his eyes just a little. They are already pleading. But the words… the words are so hard.

“…I can do this the whole day, Kitty cat. And the next too” their voice is cold, almost mechanical, but there is a grim on the General’s face “…I can do this for the rest of my life, in fact.”

With that, he snaps the whip on the air, just to make a noise. It’s enough to draw a sad, pleading meow from Root’s throat.

“…P-please” they let their head hang, defeated.

“Not good enough, kitty.”

The whip comes down again, again and again. The pain is enough to leave him blind for a moment and he just… feels so tired. He hangs limp, barely catching his breath.

“Try again. You know what I want to hear.”

Words… Words are wind, right? He doesn’t have to mean it. He can just say… say what the General wants to hear and be done with it. Right? It will be a toll on his pride but… But he can’t anymore. Words are wind.

“P-please… p-please I’m- I’m sorry I-I can’t… P-please h-have m—mercy… P-please I… I beg…” they sniff. How he still has strength to cry is beyond them. This dreadful situation was making him realize that he never truly knew the limits of a body.

“…Hm” the General places a hand under his chin, forcing him to face his eyes “…Better. There is still something missing now, isn’t there Kitty? How should you address me?”

He stares at those eyes, his own full of fear and defeat. Master. Words are wind, words are wind, words are wind… But he can’t. What then, afterwards? There is still a part of him that just… wants to be free and wild. But it’s dying. He is fractures in many parts, dying in pieces like he could never do when soul and body were one.

“Come on, Kitty. Say it, and we will be done for today. Will let them treat your wounds and you’ll be able to rest. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” The general face is so close, his head being held preventing him from looking off those eyes…

“P-please… p-please I- …” he tries. And that wild part of him comes back from the grave for a moment more, just to screw him over, just to make things worse. He bites down on his lip, not letting the words out.

The general releases him, letting him hanging limply again.

“Oh well. I was pretty sure we could avoid this for today but…” he walks out of view. Roots tries his best to breath, as panic rises on his chest again. What is he doing? What tool now? What is going to happen? Why can’t he just… just- “…You could make things so much easier for yourself, you know?”

He heard the clank of metal, a sad noise escaping from his throat. He could just make things easier for himself, right?

…Nepthys had already escaped. She was… far away. And safe. So he could just… try and protect himself now right? It wouldn’t be bad to… to submit if… if it meant he would be safe for a while and… and… And you will never be free again.

…When the General walks back into view he is holding a branding Iron. That in itself is enough to make him howl in fear, but the worst about it is… That’s the symbol of the Inquisitors.

The dreaded, disgusting symbol of those who have hunt and killed his kind for decades. He can’t have that on his body, he can’t. He can’t carry such a disgusting mark. His eyes widen and he tries to scramble away, getting strength from his sheer panic.

“No! No you can’t! Please don’t! Don’t do that, please!” He screams. The General call out for a pair of man who were guarding the door, and they come in to help hold him in place. He claws and bites, ignoring the pain in his back, the sore muscles, the exhaustion, but ultimately… It’s useless.

Words are wind, but this is marked in fire.

“Please, please don’t do this. Please.” He stares desperate at the general “…Master. Please. Please don’t. Master. Forgive me.”

The General smiles, approaching him with a victorious smile. He pets Root’s hair scratching behind his ear, watching him calm down a little bit.

“There, there. Now we have sort this out a little better, haven’t we? You know just who you belong to?”

“Y-yes… M-master” he says, the branding iron still on the General’s hand, so close he can feel the hit.

“Then… Let’s make sure the lesson sticks, shall we?”

Before he can protest again, the general steps back and places the iron on the center of his chest. He screams, debating in the other men arms. He hears them laugh, the world spinning around him as he burns.

…He pulls the iron away, ripping parts of his flesh. The man let go of him, and he falls, held only by the shackles. His jaw trembling, sweat dripping, eyes staring vacant into nowhere. The general cups his face, pulling sweat strands of hair from his eyes.

“There you go, kitty” he smiles, and Roots has no strength to answer “Now you’ll never forget”

He lets go. They leave him alone in the dark to cry.

tag: @talk-to-rock

#roots and nepthys #whump #whump writing #oc whump #generic general is generic

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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

Text

CW: Whipping; kicking; death discussion; creepy/intimate whumper; no-con (non-sexual) touching;

Roots of the Woods, and that was his name.

Boots on the floor, kicking him again.

He looked up, fighting against the pain. The same guards that tormented him every day, but also a new man, dressed in outfits that signalized his high position.

“So this is the devil you captured” he asked, face twisted in disgust. Roots stared at him, a glimpse of defiance still on his eyes. The man grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back “…And you say he hasn’t spilled any information yet?”

“That’s right, Sir.”

“He is useless to us, then”

A twisted grim formed on the man’s lips. Maybe they would finally let him die, he hoped. He would take even the stake gladly, at this point.

“Well… Loosing such a rare specimen would be a shame” Roots didn’t like the way that sounded. Not at all. “I’ll take the matters on my own hands from now on”

The man let go of his hair, instead running his hands over Roots cheek, as if he was a fucking dog to be petted.

“Now… you’ll be very good for me won’t you, little demon?”

He was expecting the torture… But that fake comfort was disgusting. Before he could think any better, he bit the man. He was slapped so hard his vision went dark for a second, as he fell to the side.

“What did I expect from such an animal” the man angrily growled. Roots crawled backwards, pressing their body against the wall once he heard the snap of a whip “I heard you haven’t begged yet... That’s cute. But you will”

----------------------------------------

The older woman handed her a warm cup of herb tea, coming straight from the fireplace. She gladly accepted it, tugging the blankets over her shoulders, the sad eyes following the dancing of the flames.

She appreciated the warmth. Her clothes were still drying up, her hair still wet, increasing the sensation of cold. But it felt better now.

“So, they chased you into a river, right?”

“…The dogs couldn’t follow me there” she moved, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself “So I jumped”

“Yes, that’s right. And the river brought you to me” the woman took a sip of her own drink, her chameleon familiar lazily leaning on a rock, a few meter away from the fire, too uncomfortable with the visitors to take a human form. The woman noticed her staring “…That’s Fern over there”

Fern turned, belly up, hearing its name. They licked their owl eyeballs, letting the long tong hang stupidly over their face. She would have found that funny if she wasn’t so… Broken inside. She couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. Angry, wrathful tears.

“They took my Roots” she grinned her teeth, purple eyes blazing in the fire light “First they took mother, now they took my Roots.”

The older woman gave her a sympathetic look. It was getting harder and harder for the young ones to survive.

“I need to save him” she said, not an ounce of doubt “I need to go back there. He sacrificed himself for me. I promised I’d save him.”

“…And yet, if you go back, his sacrifice will have been in vain”

She looked up, a storm inside.

“I can’t leave him.”

“Survive” the woman said, taking another sip of her tea, the chameleon hissed in agreement “He is your familiar. He would die for you a million times, if it meant you were safe.”

The chameleon – Fern – came closer, a bit uncomfortable with the heat of the fireplace, but still curious to look at the younger witch.

“I promised him”

“…And you will pay your promises someday, young witch. In this life or on your next” she gave the youngster a harsher look. She knew the older woman was right, going back now would be suicide. But her heart was in pain.

“…It might be too late” she looked down to the flames again. She cried like an adult, full of anger and pain, sobs suffocated on her throat. And yet, it was just a child, young and inexperienced. One who had been lonely for far too long “He might die!”

“Hopefully he will. If he dies, his soul will be free” the chameleon clicked its tongue in agreement, as walked closer to the woman again “…They cannot be killed like you and me. They were never alive in the same sense we were. To truly kill your Roots, it would take magic more powerful than those fools would ever dare to wield. Being kept alive… will be a worse fate”

She stared once again into the flames, loosing herself to a storm of thoughts.

#not sure if on board with this anymore #oc whump #roots and nepthys #Im so obssessed with the idea of death this year #Cause it's been way too prevalent lately

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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

Text

Witch’s Familiar

Look I didn’t forget about this neither the other one ok

CW: Witch trials/Burning/Death/Dehumanization/Chains/Guilt

…Years had passed when she finally saw Roots again. And when she did, Nepthys wasn’t sure that was the same man who had sheltered her on her youth, which brought a sour taste to her mouth, and accusation that she made to herself over and over. She had failed him. He lost everything to protect her, and she had failed him.

She ran away and found shelter. Found a home. Always being excused that she needed time and a plan and that she needed to truly understand her magic and craft, connecting to her mother goddess whose name she carried.

But all this time, Roots had been in pain. The doll she had been given by Fern, years ago, seemed to hold some magic property she had never been able to comprehend, but made her feel somewhat connected to Roots despite the distance. But now, looking at him, kneeling by the side of the General as the men and women were lead to be executed…

He was a husk of a man, with eyes carved in deep, and sunken under purple bags, frail enough he could see bone, carved by thousands of scars that told his story of resistance… But all were healing, because that story had ended. He wore a heavy collar, imbued with magic, she could sense. Probably locking him in his human shape. From there it hang a chain, that the general held in his fist, as he screamed orders to his man.

His magic had left him. Most of it had anyway. The song of the forest that ran strong in his soul was mostly silent, replaced by a poor whimper of pain. And he was put on display for all the people on the party to see, as some stupid token of power.

…She pulled her hood down, and walked closer to the pedestal were the general and her Roots were. She peeked, her purple eyes glazing like flame, trying to make her Roots see her. But he didn’t. He looked right through her with tired eyes, filled with sorrow, guilt and shame.

…Screams. The fire had been lit. She took a deep breath, and silently whispered a prayer for the souls that would be tried tonight by the ancient gods. May they rest.

And then… Then Roots saw her. He felt her magic, her divine soul. And only shook his head, a silent no, a plea for her to leave, as he hid his face under the long, un-kept hair. She wanted to jump there and get him. She wanted to cast a curse upon every human on this plaza. But she couldn’t. Not here, not now.

…She felt Fern twisting uncomfortably on her pockets, colors changing from a purple to red to green again. And she turned to leave, holding back her tears.

She stepped away from the village, under the shelter of the woods. Fern jumped from her pocked and transformed, walking beside her.

“…He didn’t… Didn’t recognize me…”

“…He is ashamed” Fern says licking his eyeballs “He has doomed many souls to the fire”

…She stops. They were using her Roots to kill. She closed her hands on a fist, absolutely furious.

“It’s not his fault”

“That doesn’t relieve him from the blame” Fern shrugs, always undisturbed “But go ahead and try young witch. Pay the debt you own him”

“I fucking will” she spit. She would, and everyone else would pay as well.

@talk-to-rock @yet-another-heathen

#roots and nepthys #whump #oc whump

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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

Note

△ Roots, what would you give to return home?

- @talk-to-rock

Roots: *screams being agressively neglected by the author*

7/10

He shakes his head.

“...If being here means Nepthys is safe, I will stay. I know she is trying. I saw her, that day. But it’s risky. I’ve sacrificed myself for her once and... And I will do it again”

...One single tear. He cleans it and leans back.

“I’ll be free eventually. This body won’t last forever, and my being, my soul, is immortal. I’ve lost the time I had with her and this will forever hurt. But, I prefer to give her a chance at life”

#roots and nepthys #ask #ask game #invasive question game

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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

Text

The Witch’s Familiar

CW: Food/Starvation; brief animal whump (is a person who can turn into a cat, not really a cat). ; whipping; restraints; magic; degrading/deshumanization;

...When he is in silence, he can hear the screaming echoing in the cold dungeon hallways, as the other poor souls suffer.

And when the whip sings his own screams come out. He tries to suffocate them, but he can no longer strangle them at this point, when his back is fully marked in shades of red, and he is tired, wounded and starved. This fight wasn’t worth anymore.

Honestly, he lost it when he had turned back into a human. They starved him for days, in the tiny bird-cage, not knowing that if spirits stayed as animals for too long… they would eventually become just that.

Now he wished he had let that happen. He was planning to, at first, but the longer he went without food, the harder it was to not consider just… complying. And the longer he was a cat, the messier his thoughts got, the more focused on the animal senses, the less interested in knowledge and… And the memories of Nepthys started to fade.

Still, it was worth it to protect her and her kind. But he wasn’t thinking of that every time they set the table, with rich foods, and let his cage hanging just out of reach, the heightened senses of smell and sight making him drool and his stomach growl painfully.

He wasn’t fully himself when he complied, either. All he saw was the food that could save his body from eating itself. He just grabbed whatever was offered, eating like an animal on the floor, without any dignity. He barely felt it when they closed the metal collar around his neck, engraved with runes to seal his magic, so he could not escape to his cat-self again.

After that he was dragged into his new accommodations on the dungeon, shackled to the wall. And he was fed, alright, but every time a boot was there to kick him on the floor, force his head down, so he would never forget the animal he was.

…He hated them. He knew how foolish of a kind humans could be. He should never let those words reach him… But they did, and he felt ashamed.

Then the beatings started. ‘Where is the witch?’ ‘Do you have a deal with the devil?’ ‘Do you know other witches?’ ‘Where is their hideout?’ ‘Ask for forgiveness’

And the only saving grace was that… He didn’t know.

Because at first he thought he could resist it. He could be thought, hold his screams back, remain wild and defiant and free.

But his tears spilled, as did his blood, and he screamed his voice hoarse. And while at first he still dreamed of wilderness and trees and the singing voices of nature… Soon his dreams were too, drenched in darkness and blood.

The only shards left of his strength… Were that he hadn’t begged yet. He didn’t want to give them that.

Not yet.

They only ever stop because they can’t kill him, and that is the worst part of all. He is patched up by a doctor who barely acknowledges him, just to be hurt again the next day. He curls up against the cold stone walls as if that could offer any comfort.

He looks tiny and scared and rat like, and exhaustion is taking over him. He closes his eyes, wondering how long this nightmare will go on for. How long till they’ll set his spirit free, once again.

#whump #whump writing #roots and nepthys #dunno not vibing with this rn #oc whump

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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

Text

Just a reminder that at some point when writing this series I decided this is steampunk for the sheer fact that I wanted it to be but hasn’t come up until now.

Witch’s Familiar Masterlist

CW: Dehumanization; inquisition style execution mention; choking; multiple whumpees, some lady whump; whipping; mention of branding; gagging; restrains; blindfold;

…The sounds of the machines were loud and annoying to his ears, and he wanted to rest his head, but the irregular ground made the carriage jump and throw him around every few seconds. A heavy chain dangled from his neck, clanking every time the carriage shook over its wheels.

He was blindfolded, and that was infuriating. Not only did it make the other senses work better, it also meant he couldn’t look outside. If he tried, behind the disgusting smoke, he could sense a faint smell of nature. And he wanted to look at it.

Impatiently, he crossed his arms, letting an annoyed hiss escape from his throat. He hated this. He wanted to be outside and run on the grass, not be carried around on this awful mechanical thing.

“…Patience. We are almost there kitty” The General’s voice. Master. He who was holding the heavy chain, with a loose grip at this moment, but that could turn vicious at any second.

“…I want to look outside…” They said “Please…Master”

“That’s exactly why you are blindfolded little kitty. You have been so good lately and we don’t want you getting any ideas now, do we?”

After saying that, Master snapped his fingers, and this sent a shiver down his spine. For the past few weeks, The General had been doing that when he was punished or tortured. Just snapping his fingers. He was being Pavlov-dogged and he absolutely hated it, and hated that despite knowing what the General was doing, he couldn’t avoid but flinch every time he heard that sound.

He grinded his teeth and resisted the urge to hiss. If he could at least sleep… But no. He tried to focus on the faint nice smells, but the smoke was overwhelming. And the way the carriage kept shaking was extremely annoying.

“How long will we take?”

“…We are almost there. And if you don’t stop complaining I’ll muzzle you Kitty” General said, and he heard a page being flipped. The General was quite a literate man. And that made Roots hate him more.

He wanted hiss at The General. At Master. But he couldn’t. The threat of the muzzle was very real and… And it was better to cooperate and be treated better than to let the general just drag him around and end up doing everything he wanted anyway. He was supposed to be on a cage, on top of the carriage, but General gave him a chance to be inside and maybe he should be good and accept it.

With a sigh he put his head on the window, and the stupid carriage shook again making him hit his head on the glass.

“Ouch…” He complained, and heard an amused chuckle in response.

But soon enough the carriage did stop. He was pulled out into a floor of cold, smooth stone. The General handed the chain to someone else it seemed, as his voice started to get more distant.

He waited, keeling with hands on display and a desire to bite at this person. He would never do that to master, but just some random guard…

However before he could do it the chain was yanked forward, and he struggled to crawl. He was pulled down a spiral stairway, into a place cold and dark, safe for the torchlight.

“Thank you” Master said to the person, now grabbing the chain again. Something was off. The smell of blood, the sound of breathing. The general fondled with his hair a bit before removing the blindfold.

…It was a dark, cramped prison cell. In front of him, three woman were tied up, all of them wounded, gagged and staring with wide, vacant eyes. Roots steps back, but the General pulls him closer.

“W—what-“

“Kitty” The General interrupted “This three women in front of you have been appointed as suspects of a case of witchcraft that has been happening on this village. One of them is the culprit, but so far, out more… traditional methods wielded no result. It would be a shame to try and murder innocent woman for this crime, but we can never know for sure who is or isn’t a witch.”

The General smiled, viciously, at the shocked kitty.

“But you can”

His eyes widened as he pulled away again, despite the collar choking him. No. He would not. The mark burned on his chest was enough of a disgusting treason, but this? He wouldn’t turn on his people, he would never-

The general touched his chest, nails digging into his scar.

“You are mine now kitty. You are one of us and must never forget it”

“NO!” He yanked, trying to run to the stairs. The General effortlessly yanked him back “No! You cant do this! They don’t deserve to die!”

“…The two innocent ones? No they don’t indeed. So why don’t you point us the witch little kitty?”

“This… This is cruel. They never hurt anybody! It isn’t fair”

With a harsh kick to his ribs, Roots falls to the floor. The General pulls at the chain, enough to choke him, and holds him up while he trashes until his face went purple. Once released, he falls to the floor, chest wheezing.

“…You don’t get to pass on judgment” The general leans closer, so much his voice is a whisper “…If you don’t pick one, all the three of them will do the dunking chair tomorrow. You don’t want that, do you?”

Master caressed his face “…And of course you’ll get a few more lashes on your back kitty.”

He shook his head. He didn’t care about being hit right now, he would take it! But he couldn’t… He couldn’t just let all of them die! Every single one of them… Would sink regardless of their powers.

He took a good look at the women as the general approached them, treating them with the same disdain he treated his kitty. Damn… they were all so young. And… not one of them was a witch. He sighed, in relieve. Maybe they could all get out of this one.

“-n-n-n-one of them are wi-witches M-master…” He whispered, looking at the floor. All the three seemed awfully relieved by hearing that, but that lasted just until Roots was kicked again “I knew you would try this pet”

…He was pushed against the wall still on his knees. A strap of leather on the corner of his vision-

“I-iit’s true! I’m not-“

He was silenced by the first lash. Now that he had public he didn’t want to cry. But he had no more resistance left, the whip opening old wounds and digging pieces of skin, and he knew just how bad this could get. He tried to keep it quiet.

“Count-“ The General ordered, and he whimpered.

Ten. Ten lashes, he counted, voice trembling.

“…Ten more once we are home” Master said, hitting the whip in the air, close to the women’s faces. The way they flinched told Blue that they knew very well what that leather felt like.

“So… which one Blue?”

He hugged himself, going back on his knees. They all stared at him in fear and silent begging. None of them was a witch. There was nothing wrong with being one but it also meant that no matter who he picked, they would die as something they were not. And they would be remembered like that.

“Master it’s… its true… none of them-“

“…I guess you want the other ten now, Kitty.”

“No, please I-“

But he was pushed back on the wall, and the whip came down hard once again. He lost the first few, and Master made him start counting again.

…He didn’t stop after ten. It just kept going for a while, and he gave up on not crying. Once he fell down, Master lifted his face on the tip of his foot. Roots sniffed.

“Are you ready to speak now?” Master lifted him by the hair forcing him to look at the women once again. They were crying. He had to pick one or they would all die.

…The chair was… was better than the fire. But if he accused one of them, she would be burned wouldn’t she? He felt tears running through his skin, mixed with sweat and blood.

With trembling hands, he pointed to what looked to be the oldest of them, and kept his gaze on the floor. He couldn’t stand looking her in the eye, as the immense fear and incredulity consumed her. The general petted his kitty before calling the guards to take the woman upstairs and release the other two.

tag: @talk-to-rock @yet-another-heathen

#whump #oc whump #whump writing #roots and nepthys

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