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robbyrobinson · 3 years

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OWL HOUSE x CTHULHU MYTHOS: THE GODS AWAKEN: PT. II: BOSCHA’S ANGER

Boscha threw her brush against her mirror, smashing it. Shards of glass rained down to the floor, but the three-eyed girl was too enraged to take note of it. Her dark pink hair was in disarray from Boscha savagely tearing her bow from her hair.

“That blasted half-a-witch...” she groaned.

She collapsed on her bed with a thud. Why, why does her thoughts always go back to that glasses-wearing nerd? Even though she and her team the Banshees won the Grudgby match between Luz and her friends, Boscha’s victory felt hollow. Sure, she may have won, but her real intention was to make Willow and her friends new target practice. With that goal in mind, she hoped that it would dissuade people like Willow for even dreaming of climbing up the social ladder set into place by the Boiling Isles. And yet, Willow was becoming even more liked by the students. To rub more salt on that wound, Boscha’s teammates had gone out of their way to compliment Luz and the others on their teamwork.

It all started with Amity who, for a long-time passively encouraged Boscha to torment her former friend, suddenly changing her tune and actively opposing her. That by itself was on the three-eyed girl’s mind the longest: they both wanted to be the most powerful witches in the Isles ever since they were children, and yet Amity was now saying that she no longer had those aspirations? What preposterous nonsense undoubtably the result of that human girl’s influence.

“What does that round-eared girl have that I don’t?”

Boscha was so enraptured in her thoughts, she nearly failed to her a knock on her door. It was a soft pitter patter one that was nigh-untraceable. Boscha rolled her three eyes in annoyance.

“D-dear,” the voice began, “you’re almost going to be late for school.”

The door slowly droned itself open enough for Boscha to see who it was. It was a woman with the same hair and set of eyes that she had. She was a notably timid woman who appeared to realize at the last minute that disturbing her daughter would be similar to trying to awaken a sleeping lion if not worse.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you loud and clear,” Boscha replied in a snarking fashion.

“What’s the matter, dear?” her mother asked, “I thought you would be happy to have won that match yesterday with that human girl and her friends.”

Before she could speak again, Boscha tossed one of her pillows at her. Her mother’s instincts kicked in and she slammed the door shut before the pillow could strike her. Boscha groaned in defeat before pulling herself off her bed.

Willow, much like last time, was again being crowded by a flock of classmates. Much like Willow, there were a select few who were also in the plant coven. They all had flowerpots containing otherworldly plants. She was bringing the plants to life and those plants took on the visage of their owners.

Skara and the rest of Amity’s clique were by their lockers waiting for Boscha to arrive. Skara casually browsed Penstagram for any hot subject to catch her eye. After looking for a few minutes, she waved her finger causing her purple scroll to disappear.

“Where is that girl?”

The other girls of the clique shrugged. They too turned their attention to their purple scrolls. Skara tapped her finger on her chin. Sure, she did recall that Boscha was pretty steamed when her victory proved to be fruitless, but it was, after all, a game. There was little reason for Boscha to be enraged at Willow or Luz for that matter. As she contemplated further, she saw Amity walking with Luz. Like always, she had one of her books plastered against her face. Her movements were more fidgety than usual as well; once she even carelessly walked into one of the lockers when she was around Luz. Skara rolled her eyes at the sad sight.

“It’s so obvious.”

One of the girls perked up. “What is?”

“It’s pretty obvious that Amity is crushing hard on that human girl over there,” Skara said. She pointed her finger towards the two.

“Well, she had been hanging around with Luz an awful lot lately,” the girl noted, “do you think that Luz will figure it out?”

Luz and Amity finished their chat when they got closer to Willow. Willow was working on a Venus flytrap for a student with a large mouth full of teeth when she noticed her friends coming over.

“Oh, hey, guys!” she said.

Luz goes in for a hug and Willow reciprocated it. “So, you’ve been practicing on your magic, Willow?”

Willow chuckles and rubs the back of her head. “I hadn’t completely mastered it yet; it only really lasts for about 24 seconds.”

Luz smiled at her friend reassuringly. “Oh, don’t worry about that; I am just happy that you’re not being bullied anymore!”

Willow shook her head in agreement. “You should thank Amity for that.”

Amity yelped when Luz directed her glance at her. “I-It’s just me...keeping my promise.”

Luz laughed at how bashful Amity was behaving. For some reason, Amity looked cute in her position, but she could not fathom why. Willow giggled lightly at her best friend’s ignorance. She was very well aware of how her childhood friend felt about the human girl, but it amused her to watch Amity have a mental breakdown over her crush. Call it being sadistic, but she nevertheless desired that she would confess.

“Hey, Luz,” Willow started, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Luz was speaking to Amity again, but she turned back to listen to Willow.

“Yes, Willow, what is-”

The doors to the front of the school were kicked open alerting everyone. From the pure hatred radiating from her three eyes, everyone knew who it was that disturbed the peace. It was Boscha. Her hair was still in disrepair, but most alarmingly, her school uniform was improperly put on. Her hood was upside down and compressing her neck. The belt around her waist was missing; she even came to school without her shoes.

“B-Boscha?” Skara said.

She ran up to her out of concern. However, Boscha quickly swiped her hand away. Skara groaned and rubbed her sore hand. Before she could say anything else, Boscha darted towards Willow.

“Willow!” Luz screamed.

She tackled the three-eyed girl to the ground holding her in a headlock. Boscha yelped underneath Luz’s grasp but kicked repeatedly to loosen her grip. Luz looked up at Amity who was frozen in place out of shock. When her gaze met her crush’s, she blushed a deep red again, but she was able to knock herself out of it seeing that she needed to act quickly.

“Abomination, shield!” she said.

Her large, gelatinous abomination arose from the ground and lifted its massive arms to completely obscure Boscha from getting to Willow. Amity ran in from of the abomination and did the same gesture. She looked deep into Boscha’s beady little eyes disgusted at what she was trying to accomplish.

“Boscha, what is the meaning of this?!”

Boscha’s struggles subsided, but Luz still retained her hold on Boscha. Boscha’s eyes pierced into Willow like a pair of daggers. “It is all her fault,” she finally said after panting from the shortness of breath.

“Willow’s fault?” Amity repeated “don’t be ridiculous; you are to blame for your own mistakes.”

Boscha slammed her hands to the ground in defiance. “My fault? You are the one that ruined your social life by deciding to hang out with half-a-witch and that round-eared human who’s not letting me go!”

Amity bent down. “That human has a name, and I think her ears are really cute!”

Luz nodded with approval. “Yeah, what she said! Wait, what was that last part?”

Amity fidgeted her fingers at the realization of what she allowed to slip out of her mouth. “I mean...gross..no, no, wait, that isn’t what I...”

Boscha opened her mouth and bit down on Luz’s arm. Luz screeched for a split second unwittingly releasing Boscha from her grasp. Boscha resumed her rampage and went past Amity and prepared to pounce on Willow. Luz rubbed her arm to ease the pain enough so she could to make a charge for the three-eyed girl. “Willow!”

Willow stood firmly frozen in place not knowing what to do. She looked over and heard a whistle. Looking over, she saw that it was the student with the Venus flytrap. Holding the pot in his hands, he tosses the plant at Willow. Willow saw what he had in mind and used her powers to conjure a large vine from the potted plant that wrapped around Boscha’s left leg.

“Gah!”

Boscha clasped the vine in an attempt of prying it from her leg to no avail. Before she knew it, Willow moved her hands propelling the vine to smash Boscha against the lockers. Boscha screamed in pain from the collision and dropped to the ground once the vine was sent back and retained its normal size. A crowd of students surrounded Boscha curious about what she was going to do.

Boscha saw that the crowd was expecting her to react, so she started to struggle to get back onto her feet. However, a shot of pain pulsated up her leg making her keel over. She sucked in her breath and rolled over on her bottom. Tears were trickling down from the eye at the top of her forehead. She was wincing in an immeasurable wave of pain.

“You...you half-a-witch broke my leg!!!”

Willow backed up at the sudden shouting. “Bo-Boscha, I didn’t mean to...”

Boscha bent her arms behind her back as far as they could go and pushes herself forward. With her leg broken, she had to balance herself on her right foot. Wobbling, she pointed her finger at her in an accusing fashion. “I don’t care about your excuses; I am going to kill you!!”

She lunges again at Willow, but some larger force was firmly holding her arm back. She turned around to see the Abomination Teacher looking at her disapprovingly. His personal abomination was holding her arm in a slightly less-gentle fashion.

“Boscha, please report to the principal’s office.”

Boscha jolted. Report to the principal’s office? Her? Never once was she ever ordered to do that; namely because she always used her status as the star player in her favor. She could very much get away with anything her heart desired and she would never be held accountable for any of it. Boscha’s three eyes widened in astonishment.

“But I am the star player of the Banshees for Titan’s sake! I never get in trouble with-”

The Abomination Teacher was having none of it quietly ordering his abomination to carry the rebelling girl to the principal’s office. Boscha squirmed and beat at the monster but the abomination only tightened its grip in response. Boscha turned to look at her hated rival and pointed at her.

“This isn’t over!”

The halls became silent again so much so one could drop a pin. Willow ran over to Luz and helped her back to her feet. “Are you okay?”

Luz shook her hand. “Yeah, yeah; she bit me real good there, but it was worth it to keep you safe.”

Gus ran up as well. “You think that Boscha will keep her word?”

“Psh,” Luz said rather in an underestimating tone. “What is the worse that she could do?”

“That wretched half-a-witch and that human pet of hers!!”

Boscha was leaving the school now having to wear a cast and propping herself on crutches. She couldn’t help but take note of the irony: she had injured Amity’s leg during her match in the Grudgby game, and now she also sustained an injury. She was walking through the woods alone not really concerned about where her direction would lead her, but it would at least help her blow off some steam.

“How can Amity choose those losers over me? I have known her since we were both getting started...we both promised each other that we would be the most powerful witches on the Isles, and yet that glasses-wearing nerd stole my Amity away from me...”

She threw one of her crutches down in blind fury. It slid a good length away from her that she almost fell over due to her inability to maintain her balance. “Oh, great.”

“My, are you rather clumsy, my dear?”

Boscha tensed up. She rapidly scanned her surroundings for the source of that voice. “Who said that?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw something manifest from behind a tree. She rubbed her eyes doubting what she was seeing. It was a hunched man slowly trekking his way towards her. Boscha grabbed her crutch and held it out defensively.

“Stan-stand back, I’m warning you, old man!”

The hunched man stopped in his tracks, but he was close enough for Boscha to make out what she was seeing. He had long, curled horns protruding from his head. He was a walking mass of darkness blacker than night, and yet his eyes glowed a dim orange. He had a grey, spindly beard reaching down towards what should be his feet, but instead of seeing the five digits of his toes, he had hooves. The hooves of a goat. That would very well explain his strange walking that was not like a pitter patter but more of a galloping. On his head was a top hat accompanied with ancient scraps of what used to be a robe. He smiled at Boscha presumably to ease her tensions, but instead it was an artificial smile that only further disturbed her.

“Listen, freak, whatever you have to offer me, I do not want,” Boscha said.

The goat man placed a hand on his chest. “Oh, you pained me, young lady.” He said it in a way that was blatantly over-acting at its most sarcastic. “All of you people on the Isles are simply ungrateful for the gifts I have bestowed on you.”

“Gifts? What are you blabbering about?”

The goat man smirked again. “Ah, I see; things have changed quite a bit since the last time I have reigned over this land; forgive me for being an old man and reminiscing on how your history books likely smeared me out of your history.”

Boscha didn’t know what to think on what he had just said. “Are you saying that you know Belos personally?”

The long-bearded man laughed once more. “So that’s what his name is; but no, my child, I have lived long, long before you were even conceived. Even before the world as you know it was formed; everything you have thought you have experienced, I have seen it and felt it all for eons.”

Boscha was slowly inching herself away from the creepy, raving man. “Well, I have to get going now...”

The tone in the man’s voice changed its tone. “You are upset that you are not getting what you think you deserve I assume?”

Boscha stopped in her tracks and her ears peaked up. “I’m listening.”

The goat man was now in front of her and despite hunching over, something indicated to the three-eyed girl that this wasn’t his true height. He felt more massive and cosmic in ways her primitive mind could never hope to understand. He grinned again revealing that he had rotting yellow teeth with nightcrawlers burrowing inside them. They plopped on the ground every time he spoke. His breath was also ungodly. It smelled of rotten eggs and a hint of sulfur.

“You were the leader of a ball team, but you feel second-rate to someone who is lower than you in the order of things.” He extended his skeletal arm towards Boscha and pat her shoulder in assuring fashion. “But fret not, for I can help you learn your true potential.”

Boscha squinted her eyes together in disgust from feeling the strange man’s hand rub her shoulder. She quickly smacked his hand away. “You will help me?”

“Yes, of course; I have helped the Boiling Isles a thousand years ago back when the first witches had no clue what magic even was before I showed them the way. I will assist you...but you would have to do something for me as well.”

Boscha thought deeply on it. If she were to allow this man she just met to help her, she could easily have her revenge on all those who wronged her. But she also was hardly what one could register as stupid seeing that the goat man was undeniably shady.

“I don’t know...I feel like this is wrong...”

The bearded man tilted his head in amusement. “I could tear out your conscious mind and fling it into the furthest depths of space towards the center of Ultimate Chaos itself. As much as I would love to reveal one of my thousands of forms to you and drive you to mind-numbing madness, I earnestly need your assistance in accomplishing my goal. Think of this as a mutual partnership.”

More pressure was tossed in Boscha’s direction. She was now more than convinced that the man she is talking to is criminally insane and if she tried to make a run for it now, he could maul her to death with those large ram horns of his. Her mind thought back to what brought her to that point: Willow. It was always Willow. That girl that she relentlessly tormented for years and never once felt intimidated by, but ever since she was slowly breaking out of her shell, she could may as well be even better than she is at being a witch. And then she would be hurled towards the bottom, lower than the worms or any other spineless creature.

The man spoke again breaking her concentration. “Tick, tock, Boscha. Tick, tock.”

Boscha clenched her fists in dejection. “Titan, please give me strength.”

Boscha extended her hand towards the goat man. “I accept the deal.”

The goat man grinned and grabbed ahold of Boscha’s finger. This rejuvenated immense concern from her.

“Buddy, what are you doing?”

He withdrew an ancient book wrapped tightly in an alien texture. “I need you to sign your name in this book.”

He opened the book before her seeing that a slot was vacant for her name. He withdrew a pen fashioned from bone and placed it in Boscha’s other hand. On the tip of the pen was a thin scrap of the same bone material.

“So, how do I?”

“You need to write with your blood,” the goat man clarified.

Boscha’s eyes lit up. “What? No, no, I am not doing that.”

“But, my dear, think of what you are saying; if you refuse my offer, you will return to being second-rate.” He held out his hand and rubbed Boscha’s head. “You know that you deserve better, do you not?”

Boscha nodded in agreement. “Yes, yes, I do deserve the best, don’t I?”

With no further reservations, Boscha pricked her finger on the sharpened end of the bone and applied her finger on the page of the ancient book. The page became wet with the three-eyed witch’s blood. The man watched patiently until she finished signing her signature and he held out a finger and waved it making the book disappear before her eyes.

“Excellent work, Boscha, the contract has been divined. Now, let us begin.”

#the owl house #owl house #owlhouse #cthulhu #nyarlathotep #black man #cthulhu mythos #cthulhumythos #fanfiction #crossover fanfiction #boscha

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poisonichors · 5 years

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⋆ ◦ ° ☾ taylor hill + cisfemale + she/her — have you seen valery ‘val’ kashnikova? they sure have been hanging out at valdez county park a lot recently. they are a twenty-one year old known as the uncertainty principle*, and they currently work for the savages as a soldier, which they’ve been doing for five months. a heterosexual taurus, they are determined + independent, as well as stubborn + two-sided. thorns on a rose, lips against a loaded barrel, the moon cradled in tufts of white. × lacey. twenty-one. she/her. est. ×

* ❝ THE UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE articulated, in 1927 by the German physicist Werner Heisenberg, that the position and the velocity of an object cannot both be measured exactly, at the same time, even in theory. ❞

throwz this post on2 th dash like a shit flingin monkey hENLO i’m lacey bt u may also refer 2 me as? mr steal yo girl cos i will kindly respond 2 both ty

also i am so sorry for those of you who have to read this bible if u dont wanna read the whole thing its totally ok i’d jst cover the personality n valdez sections ja feel

plots and stats pages will be coming soon but until then!! click that heart button and i’ll hurl myself full force into those DMs whether you like it or not

ANYWAYS HERE’S VAL!! MY BADDEST BABE OF EM ALL

so, the breakdown.

VAL KASHNIKOVA

Valery is the poster girl of a family based off money and status. Her father who fronts as an owner of establishments on Wall Street also operates as the undercover head of a Russian mafia syndicate. Her mother is an ex-model, now focusing on the social aspect of the family.

Her mother consistently pushes her to play the role of the socialite’s perfect daughter, and prospective wife. Shoulders back, chin up, tummy in. Smile, Valery. No one wants to marry a scowling woman.

According to her mother, Valery’s sole purpose was to marry into another family of money. Valery was taught to walk, talk, and breathe etiquette growing up. The wife of a rich man must not be outspoken, opinionated, or insubordinate. She must always do as told, and with a smile on her face.

Being an only child, Valery finds it increasingly difficult to do anything but what she is asked of her parents. Choices were always made for Val before she could open her mouth; which remains the prime reason as to why she has such a tough time deciding things for herself, no matter how small.

She always feels the need to appease her parents, now that she’s all they have left. After Mikhail passed away, that is.

MIKHAIL KASHNIKOV

Mikhail was Val’s older brother of four years. He was the favorite, seeing that he excelled in everything he did. Valery was inevitably compared to her brother, growing up. Being neglected didn’t bother her as much as seeing Mikhail take on all the responsibility of carrying on the Kashnikov name.

One sibling had to deal with all the pressure while the other child was merely pushed away. An unlikely bond was shared between the two of them, despite being in polar opposite positions. Mikhail gave Valery the affection she was denied from their parents while Val was Mikhail’s escape from the world of law and politics. This shaped a very close bond.

Mikhail was a good influence on Valery to say the least. Though she’s independent in nature, Mikhail was always there to guide her through agonizing public events, seemingly impossible assignments, or give her advice through trying times. Valery could easily say that her brother raised her more than her parents ever did.

Most would say that Mikhail was incredibly protective of Valery, but only few truly knew that she was just as protective of him. In the midst of superficial families and business deals beyond them, Mikhail would always find them ways to run up to the roof and act their age like they very much deserved. It was only during times like these which made Valery’s childhood actually feel like childhood.

IN LOVING MEMORY

On his way home from a friend’s party, Mikhail’s Bentley was severely hit by an oncoming car. Word returned that a member of their rival mob deliberately drove into her brother’s vehicle.

Mikhail was rushed to the hospital and tended to by the best doctors in the country, but it was to no avail.

Mikhail Kashnikov, 22, was pronounced dead on August 29th, 2015.

After learning what had happened to her brother, Valery, age 18, stepped in and was immediately taken under her father’s wing to train and avenge his death. She slowly turned into a fighting machine driven purely by hatred and an insatiable need for vengeance.

SEPTEMBER 2015 - AUGUST 2018

She trained heavily with weapons, only needing two year’s time to become a skilled marksman and know her way around guns and knives (which are her specialty). She’s basically good at anything that requires a target. Hand-to-hand combat could use some work, but Val is never one to leave home without a weapon of self-defense on her person.

Valery operated more as a decoy when she first began, simply gaining trust and seducing information from rivals. As her confidence with firearms and blades grew, she gradually began to carry out more gruesome tasks, thus leveling up in her field. Jobs always were a little easier for Val than the other men. Besides, who would've thought a pretty girl knew how to use a gun?

TRIPLE-THREAT

The only part of growing up that Valery didn’t mind was learning music ━ let it be singing, dancing, or playing an instrument.

Dancing operated more as a front for combat and other agile ways. However, it slowly blossomed into a passion she shares heavily with singing and playing the piano.

Mikhail would play the piano while Valery sang along, they almost found comfort in such a cheesy activity. To this day, everything Valery knows on the piano is because of him. She sometimes likes to take private trips to it; she finds an odd comfort in the belief that when she plays the piano and sings, he can still hear her.

VALDEZ

Valery ’s family has shared an amicable bond with the Savages for years. Upon news of the outbreak in Valdez, the twenty-one year old was sent to serve the Caitos as a symbol of Kashnikov support. This isn’t out of the ordinary, seeing that Val’s training included working under other alliances to gain combat experience and further networking.

Val’s current rank is a Soldier in the Savages. She’s only been there for five months, so she’s diligently working on gaining trust through carrying out tasks and slowly making her way up the ladder.

The Kashnikova’s only condition is that she is allowed to conceal her visage when operating. She’s not open to showing her face around Savage halls and prefers to seek cover as a civilian when out in public. She prefers that very limited people know of her identity as a Soldier (maybe if you’d like to snatch up a plot about that?), which proves the importance of her saving face when not on the job.

PERSONALITY (HER FRONT)

Valery, finally away from home and family for the first time, is beginning to find herself. She’s naive and wide-eyed, seeing that she was always under direct authority and her choices were always made for her. A small fish in a big pond, if you will.

Despite not having many prior experiences, the brunette is very playful and open to new things. This makes her quite impressionable, seeing that she always chooses to see the best in people and has a hard time telling when someone doesn’t have her best interest in mind. Nonetheless, all she wants is to have fun! Bringing a smile to her company’s face is of utmost importance to her.

You can find her hanging out in Valdez County Park during the day. She can be seen either feeding the animals, teaching yoga, or trying her hand at some new instruments.

THE UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE

so the reason i gave her this label was because while she has two personalities, it’s impossible to pinpoint who she really is or at what point she’s transitioning from one mentality to the next. I decided it was a good play on the chem theory insert collective groan here, seeing that there’s no telling if she’s just being nice or has an ulterior motive. while it’s stated above that its a “front”, it’s more so her just trying to go back to being her normal self before her life in the mafia and crime syndicates. this causes a constant teetering back and forth between how she identifies herself in varying scenarios.

PERSONALITY (ON THE JOB)

Valery can be cold and calculated if need be, just how she was back home. Her work comes first and foremost to anything else. Fooling around isn’t in her nature when it comes to tasks at hand.

Her forté includes destruction of property, extraction of information, seizure, arson, armed combat, and termination.

uhhHh still figuring her out

omg figuring almost was fingering i cried a little bye

#outlaw.intro #finger guns my way off the dash to set up som pages wAho #gang tw #death tw #gun tw #knife tw

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rukaelf · 6 years

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Fuzzy Butterfly Dreams

Mentions: @enambris , @quick-n-silver, and @helioheliks ‘s respective characters! (Enambris/Ana D’mira, Elizabeth, and the Craftsman, respectively.)

“Are you hungry?” Moth smiled down at Bee, nestled in her arms, as the Hyur sat near the fireplace in their cozy little cottage. The toddler’s small white eyes squinted to focus on the similarly-colored pair of eyes in Moth's. Her mother’s eyes.

“ABAAAABLOOO,” Bee shrieked in response

“I am sorry Bee. You cannot have lemonade yet.” Moth nodded. “If you drink it now, you will make a funny sour face for at least four years straight. But someday you can have it. When you are big and strong and have teeth.”

Her child. Such a strange thing to think of, even now. For her to be given the ability to do something so utterly natural as giving life. As normal as being a mother. Why did those who wielded such dangerous powers toy with life, then? Why, when she had created it so naturally?

The cottage grew cold. The fire snuffed out. Moth's breath caught in her throat, as the frigid air seemed to render her unable to speak or move.

"Why do we 'toy' with life?" The Craftsman echoed aloud, eyebrow raised, as if Moth had asked why boogers exist in people’s noses. He stood behind Moth, hands behind his back. Was he always there? "I didn't 'toy' with life to create you, Yorha. I knew exactly what I was doing. I did so because I could. Because I found ways to do so, despite all of the odds. Just like your spawn exists. You conceived her because you could.”

The ancient mage raised a hand to adjust his glasses, giving them a dangerous glint. “That is precisely what science is. To discover the little exceptions, the little niches of our world’s natural laws, and make the impossible quite possible. Despite all of the odds."

The cottage began melting. Billions of termites devoured the building and everyone within it and Moth was begging for it to stop and Bee was screaming and---

She was in Gyr Abania. The setting sun casting a red glow over the land. Thousands of bear pelts lay scattered about. Moth blinked, realizing she was holding Bee once again, who was currently gurgling quite happily up at her mother. It was then that Moth heard the voice.

"Despite all of the odds," The severed head of Turia Wir Gabinius hissed between clacking teeth. It was perched on a rock, as blood perpetually dripped from below her. "How does it feel, parasite? To feel the wind on your back? To feel and touch with your hands? To do what I never could?" The Garlean pureblood’s dead, glazed over eyes settled on Bee, as she spoke that last line. "Oh, my child,” Turia murmured. “You're so beautiful. A beautiful little half-savage."

"MINE." Moth hissed back, her mandibles exploding out of her mouth, chittering hoarsely. "NOT YOURS." Bee shrieked in terror then, regarding the alien visage that crowned the body of her mother. Her true mother.

Moth looked down. She tried to tell Bee that she was okay, that she would protect her from harm. But the baby had fallen out of Moth's arms---no, Turia’s hijacked arms---desperately trying to crawl away from the---

"Monster."

Moth was somewhere else. In a chamber covered in writhing flesh and staring dead eyes and grasping, twitching limbs. Muscle sinew formed high-strung bands that crisscrossed the room. Bee was heard but not seen, her crying muffled, distant.

"Monster~~" Elizabeth cooed from one corner of the room, twitching sinew and nerves coiling around her. "I've the foresight to know what I am. A word I willingly wrap myself in. One I howl for all to hear, as I assemble my children from the building blocks of creation. But you still deny it, cocooned in that little meat suit of yours."

"No. I know what I am. I am Moth. I fight bad things like you. I punched your stupid talking minion who spoke stupid dumb words. I will do it again, because the Network fights to keep all of us safe." Moth hissed threateningly, crouching into a fighting stance.

"Oh? Is that what you're telling yourself, dear?" Ana sneered from quite close to Moth. The smile stretching impossibly off the abyss-touched Illithi queen’s face. the light around her bent and curled as if trying to both escape the Tyrant’s very presence and curl around her lovingly. "Poor thing. You should have flown my banners when you had the chance. Instead you align yourself with my daughter and her drooling band of idiots. We could have talked about so much, dear...mother to mother. Monster to monster."

"I am. NOT. A---"

"Freak."

An Imperial facility, in an infinite hallway lined with cold steel. Filtered, stale air. A Garlean soldier was standing a ways away, cradling Bee protectively.

"FREAK." The soldier snarled again, pointing a gauntlet-clad accusatory finger at Moth. Bee's face burying into their shoulder, not daring to look at the monster the soldier faced down. "You deface the Gabinius name with this bastard’s birth. You break the Mandate. Did you truly think she was safe with you? Parading around with Eorzeans, who would rather gut you than ‘make friends’ with you? Mmm, I think not.”

Moth howled, launching herself at the uniformed soldier, but she flopped over, unable to move. Everything below her neck was numb. She began to panic, twisting her head from side to side, feebly sobbing as she tried unlatching herself from the body she had rooted herself in. A plant trying to escape the soil it was put in.

"’Twas a matter of when, not if, we would find you and your spawn." The soldier muttered to the pitiful creature before them, before beginning to turn on a heel and walk away into the gaping darkness. "Come, bastard. Your true family waits for you. Even if you are half savage...service guarantees citizenship."

"N-NO!" Moth cried out. Pulling herself further and further out of the body she was trapped in. She tried calling out again, but her cries had morphed into monstrous clicking, a cluster of crickets all lodged in her throat, collectively singing that distant whalesong that only Moth could hear in her dreams.

#ffxiv rp #im not good at writing dream sequences #do you think DIO ever went through this #no me neither #PARASYTE is my favorite anime okay

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witnessthesky · 6 years

Text

Supermother!, a lunar eclipse concerning the Sun, Ceres, and a special guest

Moon, 11 Leo - January 31st, 2018

At a time when our culture is maniacally fascinated with heroic motifs, why wouldn’t we grant our dear Luna the mantle of Supermoon, when she graces us with the closest, brightest mirror, reflecting our deepest desires, calling to the surface our greatest trials and fortuitous wishes. She might wonder, in a forlorn voice, “Am I not always super?”

The moment when the super-est moon reaches its closest distance to the Earth is known as the lunar perigee, and if the moon is indeed a mirror, then this would also be a time when reflections appear larger than normal. Even without being full, this can be a time of electrified intent. Much to my irony’s chagrin, this is certainly a momentous occasion, the eclipse occurring at 5:27 AM PST, and the apogee thirty minutes later at 5:55, when the gong is struck, and the candles lit, a ceremony begins to summon a great, fiery goddess from her earthen slumber. Not only does she breathe fire, but she bends the element to her while at every corner of the sleeping globe.

Shiva, the Hindu deity, is often known as the Destroyer. Kali, an incarnation of his consort, dances atop his dead carcass, if that gives you any idea of the sheer wrath she is capable of dishing out for breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, supper, and dessert. We are, according to the Hindus, living in the Kali Yuga, an epoch of time, the "throw of one" in their game of dice, the worst value out of four. This period is supposedly a heightened age of chaos. You tell me.

Our full moon is, of course, in Leo, the beast who commands the creative power of the Sun. The Sun is the primary caretaker and fulfiller of life on our planet, but its power may also burn, even from 93 million miles away. You will read a thousand posts today asking you to channel the moon’s creative flow, but you might also consider the power to light an entire house on fire and watch it burn to the ground. I’m just saying, these eclipses don’t come around that often. Burn a house down when you can. Proverbially--dig?

Kali will act as a violent Supermother, burning all in her path to get to the heart of the truth. There will be nothing left until your beating heart, pulsating, brightly aware of all the pretending you are/were doing. “You” are truly ash in her visage, as she is the one who steps in when Shiva’s slightly less savage ego-burns can’t get the job done. Do you want to create? Oh, do you? Great. Go ahead. Create. Create. From what is left of you.

This moon echoes maternal vibes, nestled in the harvesting scythe of Ceres, both at 11 degrees Leo, god of the seasons and mother of Persephone. I’m usually one to veer on the side of the child goddess, captured by Pluto and taken to the underworld to eat pomegranates, but in this case, the message is clear. Mother, I feel thy wrath. Upon learning her daughter was missing, what was once thriving and green turned dead and desolate. She refused to return life until her daughter was returned, and made a pact with Pluto to trade Persephone every six months, thus establishing the four seasons. Of course, no one asked Persephone what she wanted, but that’s another story.

Darron Aronofsky’s controversial film, Mother!, depicts a goddess frustrated enough with her world that she is willing to burn it to the ground. It also shows an angry mob eating her child. If that makes you uncomfortable, good. What else are you turning a blind eye to in the world? What would you do if an angry mob was eating your baby? Here, wrath is duly served, a satisfying act that is completely undercut by the film’s resolution, which returns power to the tyrannically omniscient “Him,” who happened to be the main source of her perpetual abuse.

Lucifer, an angel once known as “God’s" right hand, is a word that means “bearer of light,” and was a name originally given to Venus rising in the eastern sky. Venus’ dance with the Sun—gazing from the Earth—creates a five-pointed star, a pentagram, every six years. Do you see the pattern? Once sacred, feminine symbols became roused in manipulation and twisted to mean something different. Why wouldn’t a devil emerge when the light has been snuffed, trampled upon, raped, abused, dismissed, beaten, bloodied, tormented, for so long? Would you do as much protect your child? Yes, the lioness bears her teeth, and rightly so, for enemies of life proclaim to walk in the light.

Ceres is retrograding, which may point to a resistance in claiming this maternal empowerment. The pain will only become more real, as a red moon implies. The more you wait to recognize and nurture your inner child, the more you bleed. Yes, males, you too have a duty to protect, feed, shelter, and bear fruit. Recognize where you have done wrong, where you have ignored, where you have continued to pretend. There is only one goddess, and she is right beneath our feet.

Kali, the true Supermother!, swiftly decapitates all that is unnecessary, including you, as your complicity has allowed the charade to continue. The moon will burn, burn, and burn. Ignite the fire, yourself. Watch it terrorize the illusions that have wrought your imprisoned life, depriving them of all oxygen, a fire so pure that no dust remains. There is no time left for coddling education. We are all suspect to die in her flames—figuratively, right?—and be reborn as the unapologizing, pure, powerful, delighted, enamored, primal, ecstatic, joyous beasts that we were born to be. Create what you will, but know that only the truth will survive.

And, of course, Luna, you are always super.

#moon #blood moon #astrology #forecast #kali yuga #kali #shiva #mother!#mother #ceres #pluto #persephone #underworld #fire #burn #adele

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