me n the girls hanging out after we got cursed by an evil sorcerer

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@kingofwands
me n the girls hanging out after we got cursed by an evil sorcerer

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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There might be hope for our oceans, thanks to one clumsy moment in a coral tank.
It typically takes coral 25 to 75 years to reach sexual maturity. With a new coral fragmentation method, it takes just 3.
Time for some Coral Fuck
This is actually really important though, cuzâ weâre killing coral faster than reefs can form.Â
Like I said, time for some Coral Fuck
Photographer Mattias Klum from National Geographic gets close and personal with a lion.
âand all of a sudden you feel very smallâ damn right
IT JUST WANTS TO BE LOVED AND SAVED
please, if you are able, do what you can for the asiatic lion. donate, get involved, spread information. there are only about 300 left in the world, and they all live in Gir Forest National Park in India.
the african lion is also estimated to be extinct by 2050 due to habitat loss, sport hunting, and loss of their prey base to the bushmeat trade. these beautiful creatures could be extinct in our lifetime. the next generation may not ever have the chance to see these creatures, there will be no more cute lion vines, there will be no more documentaries, there will be no more zoos or sanctuaries containing lions. there will be no more lions.
if you have any love for nature, any love for animals, any love for life, and if you care at all about the permanent loss of a species, especially one so beautiful and iconic, if you care and if you are able, please donate to help save lions.
The Lion Conservation Fund
The African Wildlife Foundation
The World Wildlife Foundation
Not relevant to my blog, but my inner nature lover is calling
Saw someone once posted a review on a book that said lions dont live in India; sad that some people dont even know they exist.
Yes, donate! But not to WWF
Yeah, reminder that the WWF still violates the rights of tribal peoples, funds shoot-on-sight policies, has never apologized for its racism in the 90âs and has an approach to conservation thatâs based on eugenics. WWF is also in bed with palm oil producers, supposedly for monetary gain. Iâd also argue that the WWF misuses its funds, considering its CEO is in the 1% and at one time had a higher salary than the US president, despite being a non-profit.
Better charities would be The Zoological Society London and Wildlife Trust of India
WWF should honestly give the name back to Vince McMahon
It would genuinely be very nice of you to donate as 23 lions passed away in October 2018 because of CDV which is a huge number for a species in hundreds đ
energy witch aesthetic
(more here)

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Sea witch and her morning cup of storms.
Warrior Witch aesthetic
A playlist for every adventurer who knows they are destined to meet their end in a watery grave or at the end of a noose.
Songs for when thereâs salt in the air and wind in your hair âŚand songs for when you find yourself in a cold jail cell making a deal with the devil.
âIf I should die out here at sea would anyone be mourning me? or would I leave this world unknown? salt for salt and bone for boneâ
listen (x)
Filipino artist, Gregory Halili, carves intricate skulls into mother of pearl shells.
(first tiger jumps in) *laughing* Vanya, what is this? Vanâ ⌠Vanâ, get out of the boot, Vanâ. (second tiger approaches) Mishka ⌠letâs go. Mish, letâs go. Mishka! Mish, letâs go. Come on, sit. Sit. (third tiger comes in) Bonya, you too are here! Ok letâs go guys. Letâs go! *starts singing* x
Just Russian Things
Big cat stuff can often be sketchy even if the content looks cute, so I clicked on the source for the video and this guy apparently runs a sanctuary for rescue tigers and other big cats near Moscow. His YouTube bio is in Russian, but hereâs what it says according to Google Translate:
So you can feel happy knowing that these big dumb cats are loved and being looked after.

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dont apologize for speaking or taking up space. dont apologize for disagreeing with someone. dont apologize for having a question or needing help. dont apologize for making it known that you exist.
I actually really needed this today
Tolkien sketches ! Vala and Maia duos : Melkor and Sauron, Varda and IlmarĂŤ, ManwĂŤ and EonwĂŤ, Nienna and Olorin, Yavanna and Melian.
9.17// looking back at some of my favorite august spreads đ
-the travelerâs blessing (x)
bulbasaur seeing ash again!

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Letâs see you conjure CHAOS SABERS without every soul in monster-kind, huh?
wouldn't you think I'm the girl, the girl who has everything?
so i know i already wrote a retold fairytale for the little mermaid, but please consider:Â
ariel is the youngest of tritonâs children â the most treasured, the most coveted and protected.
ariel is tritonâs only son, and the heir to the kingdom of the sea.
his mother had given him his name. the healers hadnât had time to tell her that she had borne a son, not a daughter, before she died.
they all call him ari.
~
he is beloved. his eldest sister fawns over him, attina trying her best to be a mother to six children even though sheâs barely a teenager. she may be queen on day â no one yet knows who will succeed her father, but she is the eldest, and clever and not a bad hand at magic. she may be queen one day, and if she cannot comfort six mourning children, how will she rule a nation?
they have many nannies, people to make sure they are fed and dressed and bathed. but it is attina they turn to with their nightmares, their cries, and their hurts. it is attina who first forces ariel into their fatherâs hands. âheâs your son,â she says, desperately.
triton has been as affectionate as always with his girls, has embraced them and kissed their cheeks when they come to him sad and scared at the loss of their mother. but he has not yet picked up the child his wife died to give him. triton looks down at the small babe and says, âhe has her hair.â
âand her eyes,â she says, âdonât you want to see momâs eyes again? look into his, and you will.â
he heaves a great sigh and hold out his hands, something guarded and stony in his features. attina carefully places ari into them, anxiously watching as her baby brother breaks into a huge grin, grabs onto their fatherâs beard, and tugs.
she wants to scream. why couldnât he have giggled or smiled or done something else adorable and lovable â
but tritonâs whole face softens and he throws back his head and laughs, the first one sheâs heard since their mother died. the sadness is still there, but as he gazes down at ariel the first hints of true happiness peak through.
âheâs just like her,â he says, and when he looks up at her, she realizes sheâs smiling too. she hadnât done that since her mother died either.
~
ari is two years old, sitting in his fatherâs lap in the middle of a council meeting, when he topples forward and grabs onto the trident for balance.
âno!â triton yells, horrified, pulling him back even though itâs too late, even though one touch is all it takes.
but his son is unharmed. heâs not a pile of ash, he isnât crying, there are no deep bloody wounds on him. instead he reaches for the trident again, and this time no one tries to stop him. he bites it, liking the feel of cold metal on his sore gums as his teeth start to poke through. all that happens is a little spark of electricity travels up the trident.
the advisors are staring. triton has no choice but to make a public announcement.
prince ariel, the youngest of his children, is the chosen heir to the throne. there is no longer a question of succession.
the trident has spoken.
~
if this were normal circumstances, then the confirmation ceremony would commence immediately, and ariel would be named a regent.
but this is not normal circumstances. ari is not of age, is a baby who touched the trident by accident, who was named crown prince of the sea by accident. âwe do not know how the trident will react to my daughters,â he objects, âperhaps it likes all my children equally, and it is simply ari who touched it first.â
âregardless, he has touched it and been declared worthy,â his councilman says, unimpressed. âlet your daughters hold it then, and we shall know for sure.â
thereâs a chilling fear up his spine, because if they are not so favored it may kill them. they are of the royal line and magic blood and it will not mean to, but there is a reason he himself did not hold the trident until he was a man.
this must all show on his face, because his councilman softens and says, âwe shall move up the timetable from eighteen years old to ten years old. your two eldest daughters will attempt to hold the trident immediately, and each daughter shall attempt the same on her tenth birthday. then, if the trident chooses any or all of them, we shall know for sure who shall be declared regent on the day of their eighteenth birthday.â
itâs a compromise, and one he doesnât like, but one he must stomach. news of ariel using the trident as a teething toy has already spread even farther than the oceans, is being whispered about by the gods and spirits of the surface and the sky. âvery well,â he says, pretending he has a choice in this at all.
attina manages a full five seconds with her hand on the trident before she releases it with a cry of pain, her palm coming away bloody. alana barely places her hand against it before she pulls it back, shrieking, the skin where she touched it gone completely.
triton cleans their hands and heals them, kissing the wounds even as he comforts them. somehow, heâs feels like this is how each of his daughters will fair when the time comes.
heâs not wrong.
~
ari is slightly less beloved after that. it is unavoidable â he is a treasured, a crown prince when they are only princesses, and even as a child his talent with magic is obvious, his affinity for controlling the power of the ocean plain for all to see.
he spends long hours with tutors, with old men and women who teach him the basics of wielding power, and then even more when his talent and intellect demands it.
but he is still a child.
âthis isnât fair,â ari pouts, clinging to his sisterâs hand as she tries to tug away, âi want to go to!â
âyouâre too little,â aquata says, finally shaking him off, âfather doesnât want you leaving the castle.â
he runs to the window and calls out, âwhen can i leave?â
âwhen youâre older!â andrina answers, laughing. he watches his sistersâ tails create a rainbow as they all swim away from him.
andrina is only a year older than him. this doesnât seem fair.
~
he is five years old when he realizes heâs not just jealous of his sistersâ freedom. but even that young, he knows he canât have what he wants, so he says nothing.
~
ari has big blue eyes and hair a brighter red than anything else in the ocean. he looks like their mother, or so everyone tells him, and he wonders if thatâs part of the reason their father doesnât let him stray.
he grows his hair long, and it raises a few eyebrows, but not too many. triton has long hair, even if itâs not the current style. ariâs is different, though, and he knows it. he spends longer than his sisters combing it each day, and loves itâs softness and itâs shine.
alana grabs him one day and shoves him into their room. he loves his sistersâ room. as the only boy and crown prince, he has his own quarters, away from them. he wishes he didnât.
itâs bright and glittering, littered with jewelry and hair ornaments, with sparkly shell tops that he loves to touch. he wears his hair in a long braid down his back because it gets in the way when heâs reading, when he struggles to summon the power his father uses so easily, and memorize spells and languages no one else in the kingdom will ever know.
there are other magic users in the kingdom, of course, but the extent to which they can utilize their power and effect the world, and the extent to which the ruler of the sea can do such things, are so far apart as to be laughable.
âsit still and let me practice on you,â alana commands, undoing his braid with impersonal, practiced motions.
arista sits by them, âwow, his hair is the longest of us all. trying to look like a girl, ari?â
he freezes, a cold lump at the bottom of his throat. is she â do they know â is he so obvious?
âbe nice,â attina says absently, head buried in a book. âyouâre just jealous because your hair keeps breaking midway down your back.â
arista scoffs, but takes one of his hands, âhere, brother, you should have the nails to match.â
for the next hour arista polishes and shapes his nails before painting them the same shade as his tail. alana twists his mass of red hair into several styles, before deciding on a complicated updo dotted through with pearls and abalone shells carved into floral shapes.
âthis looks fun,â adella decides, and takes her own spot in front of ari. she brings over a set of pots and a couple delicate brushes. she swipes on eyeliner and paints his lips red, then grabs some of the expensive glittery green powder from that attinaâs vanity.
attina rolls her eyes but doesnât move to stop her, âthatâs only for special occasions.â
âbe quiet, itâs perfect,â adella says, using delicate fingers to smudge the powder onto his eyelids.
finished, they all lean back to look at him. his other sisters crowd in close, and even attina looks up from her book. âhuh,â arista says, âit was meant to be funny, but â you look really pretty ari.â
heart in his throat, he turns and finally allows himself to look into one of mirrors. he raises a hand to his reflection, then lowers it. itâs so close to perfect that he wants to cry. âguess itâs time to take it all off,â he says, but doesnât move to do so, only keeps staring at himself.
no one says anything until attina snorts, âthey spent so long making you look pretty, ari. you should at least keep it all on for the rest of the day.â
he snaps his neck around to look at her, but sheâs already focused back on her book. âokay,â he says, and the wave of relief is pathetic.
âyou might as well keep the pearls,â alana says, trying for nonchalant and failing miserably, âthey look better on you than me.â
âi donât know how to put them in,â he says, and winces. he should have said that he didnât need them because he was a boy, and boys didnât wear pearls in their hair.
âwell,â alana says, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, âi guess iâll just have to teach you then.â
~
âwhen can i use the trident for my spells?â he asks hungrily, the dizzying power of having it so close crackling up his spine.
triton sighs, âonly when you have progressed to the point where you do not need it.âÂ
whatâs the point of being able to handle and use the trident if his father wonât let him? whatâs the point of spending so much time cooped up in the castle, reading and learning and practicing, if he can neither explore with his sisters nor fully explore his magic?
âyou have more important thing to do than your sisters,â triton tells him, âyou will be king one day, and you must study your magic. on your eighteenth birthday, you will be tasked with proving your claim to the throne, and you must also be able to wield the trident.â
ari holds out a hand, and his father willingly passes him the trident. if anyone lacking great power attempts to hold it, if anyone deemed unworthy of being the ruler of the sea tried to use it, they would be killed.
that ari is able to hold it with nothing more than a spark of static electricity on his fingertips is the only sign of his rank and status of heir that matters. his sisters have all tried to hold it more than once, and it left angry, blistering welts on their hands. it did not kill them, but neither will the trident allow them to wield it.
it is ari, and ari alone, who will one day wield the trident of the seven seas.
~
ari is five years old when he figure out that heâs not a boy. heâs a girl. and he wants to say something, to go to his father and demand he use the power of the trident to make him look like his sisters, to tell everyone to only call him the name of his birth, to wear pretty things in his hair and seashell tops.
but he doesnât. not as a child, and certainly not as he grows older. he knows whatâs at stake.
he canât be a girl. if heâs a girl, the trident will reject him just as it rejects his sisters.
if the trident rejects him, there will no longer be a clear heir to the throne, and the kingdom will weaken. tritonâs rule is peaceful, but not uncontested. there are sea gods who seek to claim the oceans for their own, water spirits who would snatch it away at even the hint of opportunity.
if atlantica loses its crown prince, if there are signs of unrest in the kingdom, it will be as good as inviting war onto their doorstep.
he canât be a girl.
~
whenâs heâs fourteen, he masters illusions.
he leaves a double in his bed, and sneaks out past the palace grounds for the first time in his life. heâd feel guilty about sneaking out from his fatherâs watchful eyes, except â
he doesnât know how anyone can expect him to rule a world that he does not know.
ari does this, night after night. he explores, visiting all the places his sisters talked about and he could never go. he goes down caverns and takes naps on the back of blue whales. he rides rip currents and plays tag with tiger sharks.
at night he has all the freedom thatâs denied to him during the day.
but even at night, he refuses to think of himself as a girl, because heâs worried if he thinks it too loud the trident will know, and the next time he goes to pick it up it will sense it and reject him.
~
ari doesnât have friends. he has his sisters, and he has servants. those are the two types of people that are in the castle, besides stuffy advisors and dignitaries.
he meets a boy one night at the edge of atlantica, a boy with bright yellow hair and electric blue eyes. heâs an orphan, and too-thin, but he teaches ari to pick locks and steal food from the cook first thing in the morning.
his name is flounder. ari starts to bring food with him to all his nighttime adventures, and flounder doesnât steal so much. âwhatâs it like being the prince?â flounder asks one day, both of them lounging on a rock on the surface under starlight. triton would be furious if he knew ari went to the surface, that he went not just once but nearly every night.
ari frowns and doesnât look over at his friend, âlonely.â
flounder rolls over and pokes him in the shoulder, âyouâre not lonely now, are you?â
âiâm not a prince when iâm with you,â he says, smiling. he canât be lonely around flounder, who knows him better than anyone else in the sea.
flounder rolls his eyes, âyou are a prince always, no matter where you are. that doesnât change.â
âi suppose,â he says, but wonât say anything more than that.
~
ari is sixteen when flounder grabs his wrist and says, âyou know you can tell me anything, right?â
âobviously,â he says, tearing his eyes from the shipwreck they were so close to exploring. he loves ships, and all the things they contain, all the things from the surface. sometimes he worries heâll never be satisfied by the world he was born in, but will instead always be searching for something more. âwhy?â
âwhy doesnât anyone call you ariel?â flounder asks, and suddenly all of ariâs attention is on his friend and not on the ship.
he crosses his arms, âdonât be ridiculous. my mom gave me that name because she thought she was having a girl.â
âshe did have a girl,â flounder says, âdidnât she?â
his skinâs hot and too tight, and he wants to cry. âwhy are you doing this? i thought we were friends.â
âwe are!â flounder darts forward and takes his hands in his own, âwe are friends! and â and iâm a boy, and i would get really upset if my friends treated me like a girl, because iâm not one. iâm a boy. but â so â if, i mean, i think youâre a girl. and if youâre a girl, and my friend, then i should call you a girl and treat one like one, if thatâs what you are. because youâre my friend.â
heâs definitely crying now. âi canât be a girl. i canât.â
âi donât think thatâs the type of thing you can control,â flounder says gently, âlook, how about â how about if i treat you like a girl, and call you ariel, okay? because you look sad so much, and i think this might be why. i mean, what do i know, iâm just an orphan street urchin and youâre the crown prince â crown princess â but i think that â that we should call people what they are. and you are a girl.â
âi canât be a girl,â he repeats, shoulders hitching.
flounderâs face screws into determination and he darts to the sea floor and then back up, a smooth round rock in his hand. âthis is a shell.â
âitâs a rock,â ari says, confused, trying to regain control over himself.
âitâs a shell,â he says, rubbing a layer of caked on mud to reveal a pale orange layer below. âmaybe some people would think itâs a rock, and say it looks like a rock, maybe everyone would call it a rock and treat it like a rock. but itâs not. itâs a shell. and no amount of calling it a rock will change that.â he places the muddy shell in ariâs hand, âjust because everyone calls you a boy and thinks you look like a boy doesnât mean you are one. if you donât want to correct them, iâm not going to try and make you. but â itâs okay if youâre a girl, ari. itâs okay.â
they stare at each other for long moments, the silence stretching out to the point of being uncomfortable, flounder not sure if heâs crossed a line that he canât come back from, not sure if he should apologize or just leave or what. then his friend breaks the silence with an almost hysterical laugh.
âcall me ariel,â she bawls, throwing her arms around flounderâs neck and clinging to him. âiâm a girl!â
âi know,â he says, nearly weak with relief as his arms encircle arielâs waist. âi know.â
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