#but were still outside of the cult's influence

[blazesartbloglmao]

rye whiskey, rye whiskey

rye whiskey i cry / if i dont get rye whiskey / i surely will die

ive been playing an ungodly amount of RDR2 lately because i sprained my knee going down the stairs about a week ago or so (depending on when this post is scheduled) and i keep getting rye whiskey stuck in my head. so i drew my cat characters singing along to it, despite having no idea what the fuck the song is about lmao

one of my favorite things to draw is friends hanging out together and i think this mostly qualifies even if lucifer is very obviously Not part of the group and only there because bloodfang dragged him there lmao. out of them all, rat's the only one who collects these songs and recites them. he learned them from other cats, older cats who lived with humans before the apocalypse and remember these strange melodies they liked to sing. collecting these songs makes rat feel a little more important to the group, because he can offer a form of entertainment when he's mostly bad at everything else

from left to right: rat, tuft, jinx, bloodfang, lucifer

no speedpaint for this one. but i hope you enjoy anyways!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 263

Once More, we return to Tiamat prompts. 

It was a wonderful idea, really! If one of them couldn’t break the barrier, then surely their combined might would do it! And it had! It had worked, even if their remaining humanity was sacrificed. They’d done it, they’d made it where everyone could escape, could leave!

… Except for them. Someone had to close the portal. And it all would have been fine, if not for the remnants of the GIW. One last hail mary from the imbeciles, they all supposed. Trapping them here within the Zone. 

Separated from their families, from the pair of children they had agreed to raise. At least their siblings would watch over Ellie and Jordan. Kyle could hide them, make sure they were safe. Jazz… Jazz was gone, the final straw in this plan. 

They screamed, they raged, they destroyed in grief for those that didn’t make it, and for those who had but had nowhere to go. No portals opened, even as they tore at the green around them. They fought, any that thought they were weak, that they were merely a beast, an abomination trapped in chains of science and gold. 

There was nothing that could be done, Frostbite had said, sympathy in his voice. No way to turn back the clock with how entwined they had become, Clockwork had explained. The only thing they could do was wait, Pandora had tried to sooth, despite it doing nothing. 

They wrenched open the coffin in a hazy fury, tearing apart armies like it was blades of grass. Their maws devoured dead who had lost themselves and become mere husks and thralls, lashing tails ripping through armour like it was nothing. 

And then as titans, they clashed with the one who had once stolen the city here. There was no desperation from them this time, no armor besides scales unbreakable as flames and storms and ice and thorns ripped islands apart. There was no desperation besides that of their opponent’s. 

There was a pleasure in their victory, before it was wrenched away. What use was a crown when their family wasn’t there? When their daughter, their son, their children were not there by their side? 

Paulina laughed, hysterical as ectoplasm dripped from her maw as Kwan howled. Their body was covered in it, their rampage that had no use, no reason leaving a trail of destruction behind them. Is this what they wanted? 

No. 

Danny raised his head from the dissolving corpses to look towards the obliterated roof of the Keep, once so terrifying now turning to dust like the crown. The crown reforming above their heads, heavy and almost choking. 

They would carry this weight together. Would restructure things, would do what they had wanted to do for Amity before the Barriers. They’d work together to rebuild the Realms, make it safer, make it safe for those newly dead. 

No matter how long it took, no matter how hard it would be to fix the destruction they had wrought in this meaningless battle. (“Danny, you’re the spokesperson,” Sam spoke up, thorn-like scales ruffling. “You’re most familiar with the realms thanks to the Infinimap.” Fair. “We’ll need allies, we’re only nine people.”)

(“Let me talk to the egyptian afterlife,” Tucker sounded exhausted, hood folding back. “I’m most familiar with them… Star, Paulina, you’re both Princess Dora’s favorites-”)

(“We can do it. Just give us time.” “Maybe a to-do list.” “Clockwork. We need to talk to Clockwork, he’d be most familiar with this.” “Rest first, nerds. We’re all… exhausted.”)

(Valerie laughed tiredly, blades melting to heal a broken horn. “Time isn’t linear here Dash. You know that. I know that. For once we’re the ones with time to spare.” It would take years to get things up to snuff. Make things Safe for when they could bring their families here.)

Their eyes opened as the now flimsy chains shattered, a smile stretching across the shared face of their humanoid form. Soon. They could return to the mortal realm soon. Just a little more, and they could see their little ones.  They'd waited a thousand years, they could wait a few days more.

(also have sketch)

@fairy-lights-and-blobs @radiance1 You both seem to enjoy my Tiamat prompts/Aus lol

[captainmera]

My God I love your depiction of the Wittebane brother ❤️

Do you think there might have been a chance that your Pip wouldn't kill his brother when Calec goes to Demon Realm? He seems way more tolerable of weirdness and is actually curious about the taboo things. That it makes me wonder if other steps were taken by people around him, maybe he would make different choices and not turned into a brother-killing genocide goop man. Obviously, the blame is still his for what he did, but I can't stop wondering what if.

And him getting along with Evelyn instead of hating her right of the bat is really cute.

Thank you! :D <333

He grew up with this theatrical bisexual of a brother. Pretty sure the reason Belos didn't give a hoot on the Boiling Isles about queer stuff is because he kinda knew, and accepted, that Caleb was kinda queer. In some cases, people can ignore or bend certain rules for people they love. Even disregard them or pretend they don't apply or exist.

(long rant about writing and narrative foils and blah blah under the cut)

Unlike Caleb, I think Philip is the sort that only picks-and-chooses whatever rules he feels will supports his personal wants/thoughts and tosses the rest.

Caleb was not hiding it as well as he thought he did. lol.

I think that, sure, there was probably a turning point for Philip.

And absolutely, people around him influenced him. He's just a kid, a vulnerable one at that, in a protestant Christian cult.

I kinda like to think of it as a corruption arc. Mostly because it seems (to me) that the whole reason Luz was meant to have a depression-arc and Philip getting all "YoUrE JuSt LiKe Me!" thing was because.. There was supposed, I think, to be similar beginnings for them.

But Luz, in season 3, got depressed and felt a lot of guilt, so her arc is going from this happy-go-lucky kid interested in different things, to a depression arc where she questions herself. While Philip has a corruption arc, where he gradually goes from a well-meaning kid interested in different things, to evil and delusional.

I am also combining Luz, King, and the Collector into Kid-Philip's themes.

King is fascinating as a pre-narrative foil for kid-Philip. I think. As King was very clingy to Luz and didn't want her to leave, he too had a delusion about his own importance (disregard that it was kinda true in the end there). King tried to dictate (in that book episode) about what his and Luz' book should be about, how it should go, and it really hurt Luz' feelings. In the end, they solved it. But as a narrative foil, I think for the Wittebanes, they probably had a similar struggle on a larger scale, and it didn't get resolved.

The Collector, too! They're desperate to be close with someone, anyone, who gets them and wants to play on their terms. Kinda like Belos wanting him and Caleb to be witch hunters. Not accounting that Caleb is his own person outside of him-- Which, if you think about it, Caleb made his whole life (in my version anyway) about taking care of Philip. So I'm sure Philip felt like he really was Caleb's entire world. And then suddenly he wasn't. Because of a witch. The Collector, despite having this incredible power (just like Pip having his brilliant brain) is still a child and using their power in selfish ways. Not intentionally, I think, just out of a fear of abandonment or isolation.

I personally am in favour of nobody-is-born-evil-but-anyone-can-become-evil kinda thing.

I would like to explore how Philip gets corrupted.

I am slowly influencing Philip in my fanfic with little things that will, eventually, boil down to not so great moments.

The thing about delusions is that the person truly believes in it. Philip believing he's a hero has to make sense and feel believable.

Belos is a jerk. Philip isn't, yet. He becomes that jerk. But I don't want to write a sociopath. I also don't like using less-favourable mental illnesses as an "easy way out" to write why Philip became Belos and a genocidal maniac.

I have strong feelings about de-stigmatizing mental illnesses in writing, without romanticizing them or leaving out the really awful and less discussed sides of it. This includes diagnoses within all the clusters of the DSM5. I will not sit here and say I only support a diagnosis like Autism or GAD, and not things like Histrionic or Borderline.

And including people with MH issues and personality disorders is important, too, as well as not trying to downplay them.

People throw around Belos with things like Narcissism and Psychopath, without actually understanding what those means or what the different types there are. For example, is he a grandiose, oblivious or a fragile narcissist?

Yes, these disorders are looked down upon. A lot of people who have them aren't very nice people. But that doesn't mean they're evil or have no heart.

Lots of children can display early signs of these, and in a rough time like the colonial 1630s of America, it is not unthinkable that those rough times bred some dysfunctional people. I'm sure Philip has his own slices of pie as far as mental health goes, just like Caleb and many other struggling people.

But, I will not write from an angle that implies Philip just has darkness from the start in him.

There's a reason why I had Caleb go on a rant about being born evil in chapter 5. Because puritans, and Christians alike, at the time - truly did believe bastards were just... Half people. Did you know that if an orphanage found out a baby was a bastard, they wouldn't let it suckle the nursery goat's udders. Because they were afraid it would soil the milk and, in turn, might give the non-bastard babies bad influence. Somehow.

With that kind of logic in your culture, it's no rocket science that people would put nonsense together and think it made sense.

I'm much more interested in how puritanism and witch hunting culture influenced and corrupted Philip into becoming who he became, and why he refuses to budge on his beliefs to the point of murder.

As the owl house, the show, has commentary on systems influencing cultures in a bad and positive way. But in particular, the one Belos tries to influence the Demon Realm with; being a not-so-great way. So! With that as a clue: what made Philip turn bad, most likely, was partially the puritanism and its extremist ways. I think TOH is also a bit of a nudge at the HAYS-code of Hollywood and how it has trickled into most all the American culture-core. As it's both trickled into schools, morality, politics and other things outside cinema.

Just pointing at him and going "He's a sociopath because he became a genocidal tyrant" is, to me, cheap. Not only does it further stigmatising mental illnesses by implying only a disorder can make someone do such evil things. But it also disregards the most horrific truth of all; that the true monsters are people not at all unlike yourself. And that they, too, were children once.

[heartfullofleeches]

Nymph Idol

Yan Church + "Incubus" Priest/Cult Reader [18+ Mdni]

Tw/Tags Religious Themes/Slight Trauma, implied underage drinking and dubious activities as a result (All parties are 18/19), Reader is G.N but mentioned to have a penis in some parts and is called "Mister" once. Reader (obviously) has no set features, but they do have a birthmark.

Faith had always been a unwavering staple in your life.

Raised by the people of your procreators' church; you were versed in literature beyond levels for those your age so you had voice to praise your Lord. Head of the youth choir, and the one chosen to begin prayer at dinner as you got older. Early on, the seeds of your influence on others sprouted during the primary years of your innocence. Walking into class that chilly winter morn, a classmate greeted you at the door, declaring their love to you with a letter in hand. They wanted to be the first, as your heart may have been lost somewhere in the clutter on your desk. Valentine's day - the day when those playground crushes could be seen as more and those holding passing stares could finally look you in the eye. A moment before, you never realized you had so many admirers. What could it have been that made so many look your way? You'd never know, not in this school - as once your parents found the notes in your bag you were shipped straight off to a school of the faith. And thus the cycle repeated.

For you, life was pretty much the same after the change. Go to school, study, help out the surrounding community as best you could. Outside of the little bubble you made for yourself, yet another flock of worshippers came to plate. They saw you as the silent, dedicated and hard working type - enamored by every word that came from your mouth. Even rejection fueled their desire as you let each person down with respectful and caring approach. They invited you to parties and hangouts, and while you never touched a drop of whatever they gave you - you agreed every time. Out in the real world, you came to the conclusion you were still that same sheltered child from years back. You'd neither kissed nor felt first love like those around you and in films you saw. You longed for the freedom of you, but the life of a priest was chosen for you before you were even born, and you had taken the vow of celibacy to heart.

You achieved your first taste of freedom at the end of highschool. To celebrate the graduating class, a nature retreat was scheduled. Seated between two of the most determined of your suitors - you could already tell this trip would change you for better or worse. Had the seats not been assigned, it would have been another hour before the bus took off with everyone dragging you around. These two were sure to win you in the end with their records and authority over their peers. One had been arrested and agreed to go to your school if the charges were dropped, the other forced with no benefit on their part - until they met you. Together, the pair grew close over their shared hatred of their environment, and become inseparable from their shared intrigued in you. When no one would look their way, you meet them with a smile whenever your paths crossed. So cute - just like an angel. The entire ride there, neither party removed their hand from your thigh.

"Wow, Y/n - your legs are really nice... You brought shorts with you right?"

"If you didn't, we have something you can put on."

The heat was instantaneous. Alone on a hot bus, your head swam from their gentle touches and praise. Noting the way you squirmed in your seat and squeezed the hem of your shirt over the source of your discomfort, they couldn't ignore you any longer. They were ready to suck you off right then and there under the cover of a blanket and let the whole class hear you sing. Alas, their fun was temporarily delayed by the arrival at your destination. You were the first off the bus with an express trip to the bathroom. Getting away from those two wasn't going to be as easy as you thought as they were your bunkmates.

Your only bunkmates.

Things started off harmlessly enough. Down at the lake, one would splash water at your shirt while the other whined that their bottoms were too lose. They'd complain about you wearing a shirt in the water, but you excused yourself due to the strange birthmark on your chest. They asked you to pick their outfits for the day, and snuck in your bed at night for nothing more than your warmth. As your days decreased, so went their subtlety. They'd stand in front of you in lines with the sole purpose of rubbing their ass against your crotch; their partner getting their share when you finally sat down and they sat in your lap. They'd walk around the cabin in nothing else but their underwear saying something about losing the towel tucked under your bed. When sleeping with you, one moaned so sweetly in your ear as their legs tangled with yours. Of all the nights they haunted your dreams, that was the first you woke with stained shorts.

Overtime you suspected they were finally giving up. They wore modest clothing, and you hardly ever saw them outside of activities or meals. You became alone due to them always sneaking out and in that solitude you committed acts of self pleasure you'd never done before. Your untaught hands felt like they'd been graced by touch of an angel as you chased your long awaited high - shooting ropes into the dainty fabric left under your pillow. The shame you beared for using their underwear mixed so perfectly into the pleasure that your vision went white as you came a second time. It wasn't long till the thing was soaked with so much of your release there wasn't any where for it to go, but your damp things. They left them there for that purpose, so it was okay - right? You'd rinse them and hand them to dry before anyone came back. It was one mistake that you could easily come back from.

"Well, well, well-"

Shit.

"The wait was longer than I'd like, but the results definitely make up for it. Come outside, "Mister Priest". We've been listening to you since you started and you're even cuter than I imagined. We'll treat you right."

You wanted to come up with an excuse or to at least be given the opportunity to clean up, but your mind was anywhere but your head at this point. They helped you fresh up partly by tongue-cleaning your navel and thighs with their tongue before leading you outside into the thick forest where their companion was waiting by the fire they'd built. They had two water bottles in their hands. One clear, and the other filled halfway with a dark liquid. The pair had stopped drinking for a while so your first kiss didn't taste like whiskey, but after both had explored the reigns of your mouth with their tongue it was back to gunning the alcohol. You drank a little too, or rather it was siphoned down your throat as they took turns spitting it in your mouth between kisses.

The rest of the night was a blur after that. You were talking about... something, but soon enough your cock was stuffed down one of their throats and all conversation was lost - your lifelong vows tarnished in one, sin-filled eve. Come morning, you woke with their numbers in your phone and their nude bodies against yours. Your head was killing you. Some water, and some gentle reassurance by your new lovers soothe the ache, and woke you to the world you now lived in. Drinking, having sex- What would they think? The people back home.... None of the people in your church did anything like this in their youth - as far as they'd tell. What were you supposed to do now?

"Baby...Relax. There's no harm in a little indulgence every now and then. You're still that same angel in our eyes. Horns just fit you a little better."

They.. They were right. You did have horns - presented in the lustful urges shunned and magnified by your upbringing. It wasn't you - it was a demon. That mark proved it. An insatiable beast. Your body was sensitive from the night prior yet you wanted more. To taste the flesh of anyone willing to give it to you. Slipping back into the covers - those believes were etched into your heart as you guided their heads down to the heat of your lust, mouths ready to please their new lord.

Life moved on after that. The goodbyes you shared with your lovers were more tearful than the nights you choked them half to unconscious only to lick their tears as they'd instructed. You saw each other on occasion, but moving to different parts of the country with no way to make visits permanent at the time shorted your hours together. When college began, they assured you their hearts would belong to you, and if you decided to seek out others they'd be fine with it. Their permission was not needed, but a nice gesture as you had already been scouting out your new playmate. The believes of the supernatural were strong in the new community, but faith prevailed. Show them a little proof and they'll take it that extra mile. Luckily for you, you had been born with all the evidence you needed.

"I try not to show this to everyone, but I know I can trust you now. I know you probably won't believe me, but it's the only excuse I have."

Taking off your shirt, their eyes always shoot to that birthmark on your chest, nestled on the skin of the cage shielding your heart. Some have described it as charred wings, others a crown of thorns. When you were in that stage of curiosity about the world around you, you always wondered what a hypothetical partner would think of it. Your first thoughts were fear or disgust, but the only thing you've ever seen on their faces is pure awe and need.

"I...was cursed by a demon at birth. My faith will always remain in the hands of God, but the effects of the devil's influence are relentless. I'm not strong enough to take care of it on my own... Will you help me?"

"..y-yes!"

With your charms, more eyes were drawn your way. Your lies kept your image clean. Day by day, it became easier for you to sneak your way in the beds and hearts of your peers. While your end goals were far from the realm of innocence, you still cared for this people and their well-being. It's what kept them crawling back -- following you after you graduated.

In priesthood, dozens came from all counters and backgrounds to see you in your prime. Many were old faces - awaiting the day you'd open your arms to them once more. If we're being honest here you've probably seen some of them during the weeks before. You never lied about your involvement with others, and if someone were to grow more jealous than you'd like them to be... they were taking care of before you had the chance to block them and move on. You still blocked them anyway, and messages from unfamiliar numbers claiming to be their families were deleted before you even knew about them.

In the eyes of your flock, you could do no wrong. An innocent member of the church, and a solider of their lord in need of their aid. Most have already abandoned their loyalty to that figure - use its name to raise your own. They whisper to those in the surrounding area about an idol that can teach them the true freedoms of life and erase loneliness from their hearts for the rest of their days. You're sure to give those brave and willing enough a private sermon they're sure to never forget. You finish every public prayer with a straight face and smile as you're serviced by your most loyal followers beneath the podium and your robes. A quick look underneath and you'll find whoever brought you to climax sharing the fruits of their labor with their neighbor through a sloppy kiss, savouring all you have to give. It took quite a while for you to detach your facial expression and sounds from such pleasure, but you've had years of practice by now. Your faithful pets and servants attempt to break that wall with every stroke and curve of their tongues fingers, or bodies - and you're more than welcome to let them try.

[dearlybelovedemilyko]

The Patron Saint of Things That Go Boom

or who’s St. Barbara and what does she have to do with Shadows House?

I came across the name St. Barbara a while back, when I was looking up the meaning of the name Barbara for a possible Shadows House name meanings edit (you know the ones). It didn’t cross my mind that a Catholic saint could possibly have anything to do with a manga about shadow people in a cult and I googled her solely out of curiosity but, as you can probably infer from the fact that you’re reading a post about it tagged #shadows house, I was in for a surprise.

To sum up her life story, St. Barbara was born the daughter of a pagan noble, who kept her locked up in a tower and sheltered from outside influence. One day he came back from a trip to find that in his absence she had converted to Christianity and wanted to dedicate her life to faith as a virgin, which was not only a really bad look at the time but also ruined his plan to marry her for money. He then turned her in as a Christian to the prefect, who sentenced her to imprisonment and torture and, when she didn’t lose her faith and her wounds were miraculously healed every morning, to death. (Another Christian tried to defend her and was also sentenced to death)

St. Barbara’s father insisted on being the one to carry the sentence, killing her himself. However, a storm broke out as soon as she died, and both the father and the prefect were struck by lightning, burning to death as punishment for their actions. 

Due to their role in her story, St. Barbara is seen as a protector against lightning, and consequently against fire and explosions (there is also an old belief that she could control them). The connection to explosions was so strong that she became the patron saint of literally anything explosion related, anyone who works with explosions, or anyone in danger of dying in an explosion, from gunsmiths to miners. Hell, look at this actual website calling her “the patron saint of things that go boom".

Sounds familiar, right? Barbara’s seizures, both in the manga and the anime, are accompanied by lightning effects. This is more subtle in the manga, in fact I hadn’t realized what those lines were supposed to be until I watched the anime (see: the gif right after the title of this post), but they’re clearly there. She’s the only character that gets this effect, nobody else so far produces lightning along with their soot.

Her usual seizures take the shape of a storm/tornado, complete with wind sound effects in the anime, while the worst ones we’ve seen so far, the one that gave Barbie her scar and that one that almost killed Barbara, have notably caused, guess what, explosions.

Notice also how it was raining in both occasions, and how in both of these explosions someone nearly died.

At this point the parallels seem too clear to be unintentional, and I'd believe you if you told me that somehow Somato and I fell down the same internet rabbit hole researching about this saint, so I thought I should share this information with you guys.

There are lots of coming and going fan theories about Barbara's soot powers, if we ever get to see them, so maybe this can give us some clues. It would certainly be interesting if she turned out to have lightning and/or explosion powers that she still can't control, and that work involuntarily during her seizures. It would also be cool as hell if she got a gun.

[murd3r0u55ilh0u3tt3]

TWST with Ice Bear reader

Ice Bear is one of the main protagonists of the how We Bare Bears and is the youngest brother of Grizz and Panda.

You woke up feeling a little warm instead of cold. You thought that there was a power outage since the fridge isn't working. You decided to open the door but surprised that it wouldn't budge, so you assumed that Grizz and probably Panda might be playing a prank on you. Oh well, you'll just go back to sleep since you know it's breakfast time and they'll be hungry and let you out....Wait a second, your axe isn't here.... (⁠‘⁠◉⁠⌓⁠◉⁠’⁠).... Why isn't it here? Even Grizz would never mess with your stuff.... Something is wrong --

"Fnyaagh... gotta get those robes fast!" .....Ok, that definitely doesn't sound like your brothers. You kicked the lid open before Grim could set the coffin ablaze.

The little monster freaked out why aren't you unconscious and chased you around. You didn't have time to take in your surroundings as your path was finally blocked by a wall of blue flames and now you're face-to-face with a panting Grim, only for the monster to be binded by a whip.

A man with some kind of crow cosplay now yelled at you for being too impatient. You didn't really sense threat so you followed him. What is he talking about? Having magic? Opening a gate? Enroll in college?You think that Panda's anime hyperfixation influenced you that much...

You reached a room and you immediately put your guard up after seeing students who totally don't look like cult members. A mirror wanting to know your name, you didn't answer at first until this Crowley person is yelling at you once more.

You stated your name, silence followed and snickering filled the room. "Ice Bear?What kind of name is that? " Is he trying to say his alias?" " Ugh,just say your real full name..." " Great. Another weirdo..."

"I sense no magic in this beast. Colorless and shapeless is their soul. No dorm is suited for them."

The whole room gasped and soon Crowley ordered you to take your hood off. You took the entire robe with one shrug.

The entire room froze with shock and soon they started firing off magic with their pens followed with shrieks. "GAHH! THERE'S A MONSTER IN THE SCHOOL!" "CALL THE GUARDS! SEND IT OUT!" "HELP! GET IT AWAY FROM HERE!".... okay, now you are hurt emotionally. Back in your city, the people wouldn't care that you're a bear... Well maybe there's a bit of racism, but this is a whole new level of low.

While the students are busy freaking out, Grim managed to escape the lash and started to set things on fire ... A collar appeared on your neck and Grim's as a short red-headed boy states a rule about bringing animals to a ceremony. The headmage asked who's familiar you are and you said you aren't one and that Grim is not yours either.

You asked where you are which the headmage finds odd about you speaking in third person but answered anyway. You said that you weren't supposed to be here and the headmage nodded and said that originally, he was going to let you leave with Grim but came to the conclusion that the Ebony Carriage must have seen potential in you.

And plus, he cannot just abandon you-- ".... Ice Bear can find job--" Why don't the headmage take you in and find a way to your world, hm? Doesn't that sound marvelous? Oh, what a kind and generous headmage he is!

.... ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ..... That was your reaction after seeing Ramshackle both outside and inside. Grim is now your dormmate which you find annoying, and now you are the school's janitors which you don't find troublesome since you have cleaned..... Far worse (Grizz's room).

So the story hasn't changed much, just the students gossiping about you and Grim causing a ruckus during the ceremony but they were more weirded out that you are not a monster but a talking bear with no magic.

Ace starts talking shit about both of you should'nt have enrolled because you're monsters, blah blah blah. You tried stopping Grim and he still made a mess. Now you have to wash a hundred windows.... You are this👌🏻close to skinning Grim with a rake. Ace left you guys, you chased after him, met Deuce who is also shocked that you're a talking bear, chased Grim, broke the chandelier, and now you have to face this blot monster... Great. Just great.

You easily beat it with your makeshift axe. You also used your martial arts to beat it since it's movements are slow. You told Grim not to eat the rock but guess what? He ate it.

By the way, Ace and Deuce were pretty impressed that you can make an axe out of stone, vines, and wood in a short time during the retreat and Deuce asked you to teach him the same stunts you pulled on the monster.

So you retrieved the crystal in record time before Crowley could even print the expulsion papers and now he promoted you and Grim to being the first monsters to enroll in Night Raven College!

You sometimes find it uncomfortable to wear the school uniform, so you just settled with a neck tie with NRC's symbol on it. People still find it fascinating that a new race can enroll in. Your friends find it unique that you speak in third person but that just adds to your charm.

The Adeuce reminded you of your brothers so you're mostly protective over them. Azul is pulling his hair right now because you keep declining his offers for money in exchange for your talents. You are always neck and neck with Rook in terms of skill and athleticism, especially during the Beanfest event..... Lots of students are gonna need therapy after that. Lilia enjoys using the cucumber prank on you and shared the videos with Idia and Cater. Sebek, Malleus, and Silver thank the seven if you are volunteering to cook for Diasomnia. You find Jack, Jamil, Silver, Malleus, and Trey a lot more tolerable than most of your friends.

You're just hoping that your brothers are not burning the kitchen down, or thinking of replacing you. You really missed them... But mostly your little Roomba.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for ditching my friend for kicking someone out of our Discord server?

Some context before I begin. We are strictly online friends, with all of us having more than one social. I am the youngest of this group when this happened, with a friend named Yammy being the oldest, a girl named Isabella the second oldest, a girl and a boy named Lisa and James about driving age, and me, essentially the baby. There are a few other people who would not want me to talk about them here, but they’re all around Lisa and James’s age.

I met Isabella on Deviantart back in May of 2022. We hit it off almost immediately, sharing several interests and a common friend (James). About a month later, we were joking about forming a cult of kindness, and since her username had something with a chicken in it, we named it the chicken kindness coop (she changed it to coop for ethical reasons). I met Lisa, Yammy, and a bunch of other people on that server, and we would do shitpost roleplays and share vents about our real lives. I remember Isabella constantly posting vents and pictures of her life. She was homeschooled, which I used as justification for her constant messaging. Isabella was my grounding stone for a long time.

However, things started to fall apart in May of 2023. Out of the blue, I got a message in a brand new message channel named ‘Judgement Hall.’ Isabella purposefully did not give Lisa access to the channel. She wanted to kick Lisa out of the group chat because she was uncomfortable with her being around. Her reasoning was that Lisa was very religious, which we all knew about and respected. I, as a trans male, and a few other anonymous queer members were all fine with her as she was always a refreshing break from the wild roleplays and heated debates on how you should water your mochi. However, Isabella said Lisa was triggering her religious trauma. I, being an easily influenced minor, let her run her course. However, Yammy stepped in and let Lisa know about Isabella’s message. She sent a mass text out, and told us she was leaving and that this was an unfair judgement on Lisa. Here’s where I might’ve been TA. I immediately replied to her message, saying I was leaving, and asking why Isabella wanted to kick Lisa from the chat without even telling her. I then left the chat.

Later, when Yammy reached out to me, they said that James (who also had religious trauma, but was completely fine with Lisa) had reached out to Isabella. Him being one of the few people who stayed for a while without leaving or being kicked, he was in pretty much an empty server, minus Isabella’s most loyal friends and another friend who would later leave after saving some screenshots. James talked to Isabella, who deflected behind her autism and adhd diagnosis, tried to guilt trip James into feeling bad for her, and playing the victim, saying she did nothing wrong. James (who was probably 3 years younger than her, mind you) was trying to make Isabella see that banning someone from the server behind their back was not ok, but she freaked out and stopped talking. Now, we’re all still dealing with the fallout from this situation, but about a week or two ago, a mutual friend of Isabella and I told me that Isabella wanted to talk, and she wanted to feel less betrayed. Now I feel really bad, because I acted pretty abruptly, but I really don’t know. Yammy and my other friends think I’m in the right, but our mutual friend says I betrayed her and left her in the dust. I really need an outside opinion.

AITA?

(sorry for the incohesive mess)

What are these acronyms?

[shalotttower]

Bound

Title: Bound

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Summary: It's been two months since you ended up in a bunker with Joseph Seed.

Word count: 1300+

Characters: Joseph Seed x Reader (female)

Notes: Bunker ending, soft (?) yandere Joseph Seed, forced proximity (non-sexual), character study, power imbalance.

What baffles you most is the conviction with which Joseph speaks of his beliefs. As someone who is used to doubt a lot of things and subject them to the most stringent analyses, it's astounding, and not in a good way.

It's not that you think the possibility of a superior, omnipresent, all-seeing being, capable of making miracles and influencing the lives of all men, is something unlikely or impossible. You simply don't think such a deity, if one existed, would waste time granting an individual the unique ability to hear their voice. And if you know something about god after a few years of Catholic school back when you were a kid, is that kidnappings, torture and mass conditioning are not on the list of virtues.

Joseph is eccentric. Even by cult leader standards. And the more he speaks, the more you want to bury your head under the pillow or chew on the bedframe until he stops. The problem is that Joseph doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon. He's been talking for about an hour already; a little bit of the Testaments, a whole lot of the Book of Revelation.

Your bed isn't exactly comfortable and the springs dig painfully into the small of your back, but at least it has clean bedsheets. It's the only one in the bunker; there're two more in the medical room, but Joseph is keeping the keys from it somewhere only he knows. Every time the topic of sleeping arrangements comes up, he reiterates over and over, like one of those broken tapes, that you're sharing. "God provides" and "the Voice is benevolent" and the bunker is "prepared for the future family of Eden". You do your best not to think about the latter. The fact that you're stuck with him for the next...how long in fact? Four years, five, six? It's enough alone.

"You're not listening," he says suddenly, startling you.

"I am," you lie.

"You're not."

"I am," you continue, knowing well that you'll never win this argument.

He sighs, like you're a student who refuses to learn despite all his efforts. "What was the last thing I said?"

You shrug, and he sighs again.

"Please, child," he says, placing his book on the bedside table. He always does that, uses the word like it's a term of endearment, not a mark of his condescension. You want to object. You have a name. And you're as far from a child as you could possibly be: a grown woman with a mortgage (which doesn't matter now) and a stable job (that doesn't exist anymore), and friends (you don't know what happened to them). You don't tell him that though. If there's one thing you're sure of, it's that arguing with him is a waste of breath.

"The Flood," you say reluctantly. Joseph nods, satisfied, and you roll your eyes.

He likes monologuing. Back when you were cuffed to the frame, in the very beginning of this mess, he'd sit by your side and quote scripture or recount the events from his life; and you had to listen, because there was nothing else to do. At least now you can walk around, though it still doesn't stop him from pestering you whenever he pleases. There isn't a single spot where you could be completely alone — he hovers behind you like a shadow wherever you go. Sometimes it feels like Joseph Seed is everywhere: in every crevice of the bunker; on each surface; seeping through cracks; crawling up your skin, unavoidable, suffocating.

You wonder what will happen first — you going insane or the nuclear winter ceasing outside. Or maybe Joseph will run out of his formidable patience and finally snap your neck. You doubt the latter though. Joseph Seed seems unfazed by everything: insults, threats, pleas, curses, silence. He strokes your hair when you're not on your best days or holds your hands while walking down to the kitchen area, like he genuinely cares about you, or believes that he does. His hands are calloused and stronger than they look, much stronger, in fact; they hold you firmly by arms to keep you still when you try to wriggle out of his embrace during the night, and they also tighten painfully on your wrist whenever you attempt to leave his lectures before he allows you.

"Are you done?" You ask, interrupting Joseph mid-sentence. "I need to pee."

He pauses, looking at you for another minute before closing his book. That's something he does too during these sessions: makes you wait until he grants permission for even the most basic things like relieving yourself.

"Yes," he answers after a prolonged moment of contemplation. "It doesn't look like you're paying attention anyway."

You stand up, ignoring this comment. Joseph follows you with his gaze as you cross the room and disappear behind the door. You wish the bathroom had a lock at least — there's none, he says that seclusion breeds danger, probably cautious of suicide attempts. He has decency not to follow you in though. At least in that regard, Joseph respects your privacy, even though the concept is probably foreign to him.

You despise it so damn much: his presence, his touch, your forced proximity and those cold, piercing blue eyes. Joseph Seed unsettles you on a deep level — there's something fundamentally off about him, something you can't put your finger on from the start, but it's there, in the way he stares without blinking; in how calm and collected he remains even when you scream and kick when he just can't fucking get it and give you a moment to breathe. Joseph is unnerving, and his voice...his goddamn voice now haunts you whenever you're not with him, even here, in the bathroom.

And you think Joseph knows it. Of course, he does. It's written on your face, clear as day. He is perceptive like that, observant like few other people you know. But it doesn't deter him. He sees through the wariness that permeates your whole being, straight to your heart where he's nestled comfortably already, making himself a permanent fixture. Joseph Seed isn't going anywhere. You're both stuck here together until the very end of it.

You wash your hands afterward and glance at your reflection in the mirror above the sink. A pale face greets you in response — it hasn't seen sunlight for almost two months. Your skin feels dry no matter how many times you massage the ointment Joseph brought from the storage in it. There are bags under your eyes too. You wish he didn't care at all. Just let you be.

"Are you hungry?" Joseph asks, when you step out of the bathroom. You shake your head; there're some food leftovers from lunch, but you aren't in the mood for eating. He frowns slightly. "Child..."

"Don't call me that," you snap. You're tired of it, and feel like the period which has been absent during the first month will soon catch up on you. "I have a name."

"I am aware," he answers slowly. Joseph tilts his head to the side, considering you for a minute or two. Then, with measured steps like one would come to a frightened animal, he approaches and reaches out with his hand. The touch is soft, careful; it sends shivers down your spine and you try to retreat, Joseph catches you with ease, pulling you closer. His arm wraps around your waist in a gesture that's supposed to be soothing. Well, it's not. You struggle to get free, but he is stronger, despite his lean build.

"Let go," you protest weakly. Joseph hushes you and puts his chin on top of your head. You don't want him so close, it also frightens you how fast his touch grows familiar, as well as this sense of false security. Like he's putting a blanket over your eyes. His hand stokes your back, up, down, repeat.

"God sends us trials," he murmurs into the top of your head. "We must endure them. And I'll be here to help you bear this burden."

You want to gag, but swallow instead.

"I'll make some soup," Joseph adds after another moment of prolonged silence. He lets you go finally and retreats to the kitchen area with unhurried steps.

[creature-wizard]

I don't know if I just haven't encountered it yet, but I haven't really seen anyone talking about or acknowledging something that's neither Unverified Personal Gnosis or Shared Personal Gnosis, but rather a third thing: Personal Group Gnosis.

PGG emerges from a small group of people having similar experiences to each other, which may or may not resemble anything that people outside of the group are experiencing.

This isn't inherently a bad thing. But among those who lack critical thinking skills, it can lead to some real trouble if they conclude that their similar experiences means that they're uncovering an actual objective truth, regardless of whether it's congruent with anything anyone outside of the group is experiencing.

One thing that many people fail to account for is the fact that they and their group generally share many of the same preconceptions and biases. For example, a group of younger Wiccans are very likely to believe in now-debunked ideas such as the great goddess hypothesis and the witch cult hypothesis. They'll believe in the existence of pagan gods, but they'll probably have a Christian-influenced understanding of divinity and morality, with little to no comprehension of the role that animism played in the development of pre-Christian traditions, nor with any real appreciation for how different values influenced the stories that people told about gods and other spirits.

They might even be exposed to similar media, which gives them all similar ideas about gods, spirits, and history. Even if they don't directly engage with the most popular media, it can still reach them through second or third hand exposure.

They're also likely reading the same spiritual, occult, and esoteric writers; or at least, reading people who have very similar ideas to one another.

And finally, since they're most likely friends and therefore trust each other, they are naturally biased toward accepting each other's experiences as valid, and working them into their own mental maps of the spiritual or metaphysical world.

In short, they're all primed to have very similar experiences to each other.

Without awareness that exposure to similar ideas can influence similar mystical experiences, it's very easy for a small group like this to generate a sort of shared map of reality that they feel justified in regarding as absolutely, objectively true.

It's at this point that people begin to feel confident telling you that if you just talked to your gods about what they're claiming, your gods would absolutely confirm them to be true. And if they don't, you were never really talking to those gods.

Having one's entire internal map of reality dictated by Personal Group Gnosis can be incredibly dangerous. It alienates you from the rest of the world by making you feel as if the only people you can trust are those who agree with your PGG. It can make you see outsiders as spiritually inferior, especially if they disagree with you outright. It can even encourage conspiracy thinking, because attributing what outsiders believe (or apparently believe) to the actions of a malicious conspiracy is a very common rationalization.

In other words, this is how you get a cult.

Now, a lot of people won't recognize it as a cult (and some will vehemently deny it's a cult) because it might not have a clear leader (though there's almost certainly a small number of people who have the most influence), and it probably doesn't have a financial goal. However, the destructive capacities of small groups of people living in their own reality cannot be denied. Members who don't go along with the group's accepted model of reality are often treated harshly, and are frequently targets for harassment. They may say that if you don't like it you can just leave, but let's be real, that's no simple matter if you believe that these are the only people with a real grip on reality, or if these people are basically your only friends, or even just your only friends who share your spiritual beliefs.

(If you're in this kind of situation? My advice is to start making more friends outside of this group. You don't have to cut yourself off from this group cold turkey; you can just start hanging out with other people more.)

Now, I'd like to emphasize that none of this is to say that PGG is inherently bad; I am only pointing out that it can be incredibly dangerous for people who lack knowledge, perspective, and critical thinking skills. Additionally, a group where there's a lot of this going on can be very dangerous for those who desperately just want to belong and get along, and push themselves to adopt their groups popular beliefs for fear of consequences.

Just like a single person's UPG doesn't dictate reality for everyone, neither does a single group's gnosis. PGG isn't inherently any better or more "correct" than UPG.

[tantalizingtopi]

Last Solstice I Gave You My Heart

Gortash x Dark Urge (Claret in this one shot)

Word Count: 1658

Disclaimer: characters are not mine, but Larian Studios for Baldur’s Gate 3

A Bhaalist Tradition (I just made up), one gives the person who has impacted them the most in the last year the heart of one who has slighted them or otherwise caused them grief. Claret had done just that last winter solstice, and her business partner had thrown it away, disgusted. She won’t make the same mistake again.

Claret watches the snow fall outside from her position at the Elfsong tavern, having taken the corner table for herself to drown her sorrows. She had nearly forgotten about last solstice and how she had declared her interest in her business partner, only to find her token of adoration in the garbage, and him annoyed at her for bringing him ‘gory tokens’ when she could just tell him who she killed if he needed to know about it.

She takes another long pull of her ale, knowing that trying to drink her sorrows will amount to nothing. She had taken care to carve out the heart of that man who had dared speak ill of the subject of her affection, how carefully she had removed it, cleaned it, and put it in the perfect packaging.

A Bhaalist tradition, one cuts the heart out of someone who has wronged the creature who has most impacted their life since the last solstice. Lovers give them to one another. This year, Claret is going to give her heart to Ghislev, who has agreed to become the undead Farslayer to further protect the temple. Due to the cult's growing influence in the city, more and more people are trying to find the temple, and security needs to be increased. Ghislev has proven himself to be both worthy of Bhaal and worthy of the honor. He only has asked to have one last winter solstice to be with his lover and to slay the one that has caused them the most grief.

If Claret were crueler, she would’ve picked his lover to be the sacrifice for Ghislev, as he is clearly causing Ghislev grief. Instead, she has killed his cousin, who had spoken out against the cult. She has the heart in her satchel, cleaned and fermenting in a jar with a white satin ribbon that had been soaked in the cousin’s blood. Claret finishes her drink, looking out once more to the heavy flakes. She pulls her cloak on and stands, only to feel a small tug at her side.

“Ma’m, this is for you,” the young errand boy says, holding out a folded note. She takes it and slips the child two silvers which he quickly pockets and bows, before rushing away. Claret unfolds the note and see the neat, tight encrypted lettering of the Banite.

‘Will I see you for Solstice? I have something for you.’

She sneers, crumpling the note. She had planned on stopping by his place for a quick romp after giving Ghislev his heart. But now she wonders if she should give him the satisfaction of seeing her. After all, their last meeting had left a bad taste in her mouth. They weren’t exclusive or anything, and they hadn’t ever vowed to be anything more than business partners, but having him cut her off early so he could go whisper sweet nothings in some patriars ear still hurt her. She didn’t like the way he made her feel in those moments, didn’t know how to handle herself. Their non-relationship was the closest she had ever come to anything remotely long term, previous affairs always ended bloody in one way or another and were exceptionally short-lived.

She leaves the tavern, heading to Ghislev’s home, still unsure of what she would do following her visit with the future farslayer. The streets, earlier bustling with people are nearly empty, save for a few souls hurrying through the storm to their destinations and those unlucky enough to have nowhere else to go but the streets. Still, there were fires in alleyways for those undesirables, and perhaps a few would be fortunate enough to breathe their last breath for Bhaal, as was common for those without someone to give a heart to their god instead.

The snow crunches in under her boots as she nears the small home in which Ghislev shared with his lover. Gods, Claret hates his lover, an arrogant sniveling little man who constantly ridicules Ghislev. She reaches the door and knocks, hearing voices inside.

The door swings open and the snooty face of the high elf gazes down at her. “Oh, it’s you.”

“I just need to see Ghislev for a few moments, Daevin,” Claret says, brushing past him. She didn’t make a habit of social calls, but she had visited them many times, taking a special interest in Ghislev, as he was one of her first recruits when she had first arrived in Baldur’s Gate.

Ghislev turns from the fire to look at her, confusion passing on his face. “Is everything okay?”

“No, things aren’t okay,” Daevin scowls, “you’re interrupting our solstice.”

Claret’s eyes flash, and she has to stifle her urge to sacrifice Daevin to her father right now. She grits her teeth and vows to end him once Ghislev is stationed as farslayer. Her voice comes quiet and low, “Care, Daevin.”

Daevin’s face pales and he says nothing more, but still holds his posture. Claret removes the jar from her satchel and presents it to Ghislev, bowing slightly. Ghislev bows as he takes it, “For me!”

“For you on the night of the most shadow. Your cousin shall not cause harm to you again,” Claret says. “I shall leave you to relish yourself in the night, for all too soon the dawn will come.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Ghislev says, bowing deeply again to her. Claret brings her hood up and steps around Darvin, pausing for just a moment to lock eyes with the elf, watching as he trembles before she whirls out into the night once more.

Claret finds herself in front of Gortash’s workshop, her mind still not made up if she should see him or not. She shifts on her feet, the cold beginning to seep into her boots. She sighs, turning to go when the door swings open to reveal her business partner, “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come.”

He beckons her inside and she hesitates for a moment before giving in and going inside. The workshop is warm and welcoming, and Enver helps her out of her cloak. He hangs it near the hearth as she takes in the space around her with surprise. The hearth’s fire glows brightly, two glasses and a bottle of wine sit on his cleared off workbench along with some meats and cheeses, there is even a scent of cinnamon and cranberries in the air. She eyes him warily, “are you expecting someone?”

“Only you, my murderous beauty,” Enver purrs. She laughs.

“You cleaned this all for me? How long did that take?”

He grins. “Longer than I’d like to admit, if I’m being honest. I wanted to make the longest night special for you— for us. I know how special it is to you, now.”

“It’s just another night, another silly holiday, Enver.”

The smuggler rolls his eyes. “Don’t be flippant, it’s unbecoming.”

“Much about me is unbecoming, which is why you don’t find me mingling in high society all that often,” Claret replies, a grin on her lips.

“Don’t tell me you still upset about the other night,” Enver replies.

“I came here, didn’t I?”

Enver opens the drawer to his workstation and pulls out two ornately wrapped packages and sets them in front of her. “I was planning on giving these to you later, but perhaps it’s best I do this now.”

Claret eyes the boxes in front of her, hearing a soft metallic sound coming from the smaller one, but makes no move to open them. She occasionally gave small trinkets to her business partner, usually tokens from the people she had eliminated on his behalf as per their agreement, but never had he returned the gesture. His acknowledgment of their dealings have been grander gestures, such as torture racks of her ancestors which were now proudly on display in the temple. “What are these?”

“They’re gifts, Claret. For you,” Gortash’s smile doesn’t meet his anxious gaze. “Just open them.”

Claret’s fingers shake slightly as she pulls at the golden ribbon on the first box, the bow unwinding easily. She lifts off the lid and stares inside. “Enver?”

She pulls the glass case from the box and looks at the organ suspended in the middle. He gives her a small smile. “I wasn’t aware of the custom last year, and didn’t know the significance. This is the heart of the man who hit your little urchin girl last tenday in the park. I only hope it begins to make up for the way I mishandled your gesture.”

Claret’s eyes water as she smiles. She had went to find the man and couldn’t. She often gave coins and baubles to the urchins that hung around the park she frequently busked at for a brief escape from the temple. She was self taught and not particularly good, knowing only a small handful of songs, but the street children would dance and play about when she performed and it made her feel like she was doing something nice for them. “Thank you.”

“Open the other one,” he encourages.

She picks up the smaller box and opens it, pulling out a chain from which hangs a tiny metal heart, the intricate device moving—no, she realizes, beating— as if it were a real heart. Enver steps closer and takes the box from her hand, pulling her palm up to rest on his heart. She feels his heartbeat at the same rhythm of the one on the chain. “What is—“

“Claret,” Enver says quickly, his pulse beginning to race under her touch, “you have my heart. I know that our relationship is unorthodox and far from ideal, and that it may be our downfall in the end, but you are the only person I have ever given my heart to, the only person I will ever give it to.”

She presses her lips to his. “Blessed Solstice, Enver.”

“Blessed Solstice, my love.”

[youremyheaven]

Do you think those influencers who dramatically switch from very left wing Marxist alternative etc to very trad Christians (specifically in homophobic/transphobic way) have ketu influence?

You were talking about ketuvians and their struggle to find a sense of self and it made me think of these types of people. I know someone with ketu 1H and magha moon who did this to an extent. She used to identify as non binary and was constantly shifting through different names and pronouns but then one day she just kind of stopped and started saying how she thinks pride is pointless and a waste of time or whatever😭 it wasn’t *that* extreme but I still thought it was a significant shift in belief in such a short time.

I think a lot of people have this dramatic shifts not only out of a need to identify with something due to a lack of sense of self, but also because they like going back to what their parents believe for comfort. I guess those two are interlinked but it’s interesting how my friend is a magha moon and magha is associated with ancestors and whatnot.

I guess mula is somewhat similar as “the root”? Idk about ashwini though

Sorry I haven’t actually had the chance to look into examples since it’s hard to find birth data for influencers and I don’t know that many examples irl 😶‍🌫️ so this is me just going on a tangent and hoping you get what I’m trying to say LMAO

I’m also not sure if anyone else is familiar with this phenomena or if I’m just too engrossed in niche internet drama.

In terms of influencers I guess a somewhat prominent example is Freckle Zelda on tiktok? I never followed her but she went from making cutesy safe space liberal type content in like 2021 and now she’s a Christian and is using it be to super controversial. But like I said I’ve never followed her so idk if this is dramatic enough of a switch to count as what I’m saying.

I also feel like this a rahu trait to switch between extremes🤔 idk lmk what you think

I feel like the capitalist commodification of identity has most adversely affected Nodal people.

If you think about it, spirituality's aim is to transcend the "self" entirely, you stop identifying with labels and attaching yourself to this or that thing. I'm not saying you cease to be a person but you stop trying to "accumulate" identities to hold on to.

9/10 times the reason we identify with something is to feel a sense of belonging but searching outwards for it will only lead to disappointment, when we search within and feel at home within ourselves, we lose the need to externally confined ourselves to rigid "identities"

Yk how people dye their hair, get piercings/tattoos etc to mark a new chapter or the end of an old one or whatever??? It is an attempt to claim something as "yourself" and "solidify yourself". Everything changes all the time, everybody changes yet there are many people who will never dye their hair or change their name or join a cult or whatever (not that all these things are the same) its just that if you're at peace with yourself and truly grounded, you will no longer be shopping for different identities or things to associate with.

Yk those people who have IG bios that read like "Mother, Pluviophile, ESFJ, Petrolhead, UJC'22, Missourian, Ancient Spirit, 1/4th Cherokee, Bitcoin Enthusiast, EDM Lover"

like what do any of those terms say about them?? how on earth is any of this central to your identity? all of these are external ??? is loving rain and being a petrolhead central to your sense of self?? im not trying to demean anybody's interests, im only trying to point out that what we choose to make the focal point of ourselves is up to us and its possible to not be defined by anything?? i think a truly ugly consequence of capitalism is how people try to define themselves by things outside them (their interests, hobbies, job, income level, marital status etc etc) because there is more to a person than all that.

when we retreat within, we base our sense of self on our qualities like kindness, compassion, creativity (this becomes the essence of who we are) so we don't feel the need to claim 87373 other things to describe ourselves

some people overly identify with others like their partners, friends or even strangers and kind of become them. this is also the root of stan culture, by being obsessed with someone to that extent and giving them all your time and energy, you are losing your own qi and harming your Sun (the same way criticizing the appearance of others ruins your Venus)

Rahu is prone to taking things to extremes and Ketu is prone to trying on different identities and losing interest in all of them one after the other. so your observations are right.

i dont really use social media so i dont know any influencers that i can quote as examples ;-; but im thinking of certain celebrities who have had drastic style changes in the past and all of them have nodal influence lol

in the 2000s, the Olsen twins were known for their boho chic hippie style and over the last decade or so they have become known for their "quiet luxury" style. They are Magha Moon

Julia Fox is Ardra Rising and she went from basic to avant garde

Jared Leto, Mula Sun, Ashwini Moon & Rising , he's also the leader of a cult allegedly so👀i guess it all adds up

Adele, Mula Moon & Ardra Rising

im not just talking about her weight loss, just her overall change in style. she got married young and had a baby and in a couple of years she got a divorce and revamped her look to that of an ig baddie

Kylie Jenner, Swati Moon she's changed her style/demeanour every other year since the early 2010s lol

Taylor Swift, Ardra Moon has also had many diff lewkzz throughout the years

before anybody says dont celebs change their styles often?? no they dont, not everybody for sure. look at Jennifer Lopez or Sarah Jessica Parker, theyve been dressing the same since the 90s. constantly evolving style/looks/personality is a Nodal thing. its also a big part of the reason why Nodal people succeed in the entertainment industry and in the material realm (a lot of rich people including Bezos have Nodal placements) because entertainment = illusion, pretending to be someone you're not and for Nodal people, this is pretty much second nature.

im sorry that my response is kind of all over the place. your question provoked some thoughts within me lol and i just had to shareee

i cant think of celebs who have drastically changed their life paths like the example u cited ;-; EXCEPT Bridget Mendler who is an actor, singer, and entrepreneur, has a PhD and went to Harvard Law and now runs a satellite company?? she also adopted a kid during all this? She has Mula Sun

anywayyys thats it for now

tysm for sending this ask!!! its a very thought provoking and interesting question<33hope u have a good day<33

[y-rhywbeth2]

your durge character writeup is so cool I love Vel… 👀👌 interested if you have thoughts abt something ive been thinking about while making mine - why do you think the dark urge would be sent to a foster family and grow up outside of a cult setting? if bhaal literally made them it seems like he’d have total control over their early life, and presumably a perfectly indoctrinated person who’s never known anything else would make a better, more obedient vessel. also relatedly why doesn’t the cult come pick him up immediately after he’s made to kill his foster family? i’d like mine to have had a life outside the cult, like you’ve done for Vel, but im still working to justify it i guess 🤔 (sorry if there are canon answers to these that ive just missed, i just haven’t really seen it explored anywhere yet)

It's possible that the foster family were Bhaalists, which I believe other players have also considered.

Also, plans can also go wrong; Durge was born while Bhaal was still a vestige and his remaining worshippers were a mere handful, so he wouldn't have had a lot of influence over what happened to them in their infancy.

Durge might've been intended to end up with a Bhaalist cult, but something went wrong and a normal family got them instead. An example off the top of my head; perhaps a paladin, or clerics directed by another deity interfering with Bhaal's plans, or a a band of adventurers or something raided a temple. They found what seemed to be an innocent baby ready to be sacrificed, and whisked them away to safety where they ended up in the care of their foster family.

Or Bhaal thought it would be a hilarious teaching moment if he left them with a loving family: they would grow up and brutally kill everyone they loved, again and again until they were alone and alienated enough to know that there was no place for them in this world and no love they could have except with Bhaal. Then Sceleritas can take them home.

[thefreakymunson]

can u do some eddie angst to comfort please? maybe they get into a bad argument because readers brother thinks they need to stay away from eddie but reader doesn’t want to listen. somehow they fight but eventually they make up because they miss each other

"You think I WANT this, Eddie?" You shouted, walking after him down the pavement from your front steps.

"Jesus - WHAT is it that you do want, Y/N? I can't fucking take this anymore." Eddie shook his head, "You sure as fuck don't tell me what's going on in your life anymore. Or why I can't come inside your house? What the fuck is this? They got it out for me or something?"

You seen the wild eyed look in his eyes as he turned around to stare you down. Everything happened so fast.

You came home from school to your mom, dad, and older brother sitting on the couch waiting for you. You were blindsided by them as they demanded you to stop seeing your boyfriend of two years. They had heard he was rumored to be in a cult with close ties to the mysterious murders over the summer. They didn't want him anywhere near you.

"They - they heard about the accusations, Eddie. They're - they're scared of you. They say your a bad influence and you're only out to hurt me."

"Hurt you?" Eddie snorted and shook his head, "What the fuck! We've been together for two years. I haven't hurt you yet."

"Why didn't you tell me about the accusations?" You stared at him, "Why did I hear about them from my brother?"

"It's not something I boast about, Y/N. It's all bullshit anyway. You know that." Eddie shook his head, "You should know that."

"I think you should just leave, Eddie." You frowned, "I need time to think this over...I need time to myself."

"Fuckin' granted," Eddie snorted as he threw his hands up in the air, "You're more fucked up than I thought if you listen to them over me, Y/N."

He snorted and turned around from you, storming off down to his van. He sped off without a second glance back at you. Tears fell down your face as you watched him speed away. You knew he wasn't a murderer. He released spiders outside instead of killing them. The man wouldn't hurt a fly, much less you.

You walked back into your house and up to your bedroom, ignoring the calls of your family members as you closed the door. You needed to be fully alone to process everything.

You just wanted to be dialed in on the thigns effecting his life, too.

It was the evening of the next day when you got a call from one of your friends asking you to go to a party with them. They were bored and you needed to get away from the prying eyes of your family. You needed booze and some fun.

Before you knew it, you down by the quarry with a red solo cup in your hand. You moved through the throngs of classmates as you all danced lazily. You were in conversation with your best friend when the sight of that familiar head of hair caught your eye. His denim vest stood out in stark contrast to the leather coat he wore underneath it. There was no hint of a smile on Eddie Munson's face tonight.

You must've caught his eye at the exact same time as he walked past you. The two of you shared a look that was full of hurt and longing. He looked away before too long making your heart sink. You missed him. You mussed everything about him.

Excusing yourself from the group of girls, you silently followed him and the guy he was with through the crowd. You know where he was going as you seen the baggie sticking out the back of his jeans. Parties meant he made good money that night and it meant his life got a little bit easier for a few days.

You stood back, watching as the two traded money for weed. You were trying to be quiet, but you stumbled a bit and stepped on a twig, alerting both men to your presence.

"Hey man, what the-"

"It's cool," Eddie said, not even looking up as he counted the money, "She's just being her usual nosey self. That's my girl, she's fine."

It didn't go unnoticed that he still referred to you as his girl. At least you hadn't completely ruined everything. He still had some love for you by the sounds of it.

You stayed underneath the tree as he finished his deal. The guy walked off with his goods, leaving you and Eddie alone in the shadow of the night.

"Look, Y/N-"

"I don't want to fight anymore," you said softly, watching as he walked clsoer to you.

He leaned his shoulder against the tree, looking down at you skeptically. Even though it was dark, the moonlight illuminated his face enough that you could see the hurt etched into his features. You wanted to die knowing you were the cause of it.

"I'm sorry I blew up." You frowned, reaching out to grab his hand but he pulled it back, just out of your grasp.

"You think I'm capable of hurting people," He said, his voice heavy with unshed emotions, "That I want to hurt you...c'mon, Y/N. You know-"

"I know. I know." You nodded, "I just...please let me explain?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, obviosuly interested in what you had to say for yourself.

"I know that you'd never hurt me. I never doubted that for a second that you would, or even could. That's not what pissed me off. The fact you didn't tell me what was being said pissed me off." You frowned.

"It's embarrassing," Eddie nodded out towards the crowd of people, "They call me a freak. They don't care about what their words do to my reputation. They make my life a living hell every chance they get. I didn't want you to know just how much of a loser I truly am, Y/N."

"A loser?" Your eyes widened up at him, "I don't think you're a loser. And I've never cared what they said about you. I thought we could talk about anything and everything, regardless of how embarrassing it is. Eddie, I love you. I don't want this to end like this. I don't...I don't want this to be over. I've never cared what they have to say about you."

You watched as he hurriedly wiped his tears away. This was obviously effecting him more than he wanted to let on.

"Oh, Eddie." You frowned, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He hugged you tightly to him, unable to help the sobs that came from his body. Thankfully, you two were secluded and no one could see him breaking down. They didn't deserve to see him this vulnerable.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Eddie said, voice mumbled by your jacket, "I was just...scared."

[mask131]

There's yet a haunt on the hill...

Here and here I tried to sort out the intricated chain tying up Shirley Jackson' The Haunting of Hill House with the various works inspired by it, confused with it or indirectly linked to it (Hell House, The Turn of the Screw, Rose Red, and more...). But I have one more chain that truly turns this labyrinthine construction into a true web.

As you remember, Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House was released in 1959...

But there is another piece of horror about a haunted house that got released in 1959. And it has such a similar name to Jackson's novel, it is often confused with it. It is the movie "House on Haunted Hill".

House on Haunted Hill has nothing to do with Jackson's novel beyond being a haunted house horror movie where a group of people are reunited to experience ghostly activities. And yet, despite not being very well remembered, this movie played a small part in the history of cinema - because upon seeing it, Alfred Hitchock decided to do his own horror movie... And the result was Psycho.

The coincidences pile up, however, when you realize that "House on Haunted Hill" got a remake in 1999... The same year the remake of "The Haunting" got released.

Another coincidence: in 2023, a novel was published to serve as a sequel to the movie. It is Gary J. Rose's "House on Haunted Hill: Resurrection".

Which is NOT to be confused with the 2007 movie sequel of the 1999 movie, "Return to House on Haunted Hill".

But why do I say coincidence? Because in 2023, "The Haunting of Hill House" also got a novel sequel! Well it is rather an official work set in the same universe as Jackson' novel but a long time after the original story, so not a direct sequel... But is still exists: Elizabeth Hand's "A Haunting on the Hill".

I could stop here... But why not push a tiny bit more? "The House on Haunted Hill" was part of the forgotten-but-now cult era of 50s gimmick-horror-movies, born out of the mind of William Castle. For those of you who do not know, "gimmick movies" were so special because there were all sorts of gadgets, "immersive experiences" and other jumpscares INSIDE the theater, to make the audience "feel" the movie. This is what made the success of William Castle's movie... But also their quick outdating, since watching them outside of an equiped theater room robs you of half of the experience and truly lowers the movie's quality... Even though recently an attempt to recreate this experience was made. In 2012, Christopher R. Mihm released "House of Ghosts", a movie not only paying homage/heavily inspired by "House on Haunted Hill", but also using live-screening gimmcks similar to those of Castle's movie.

Of the various gimmick horror pieces of Castle, only two tend to be remembered. "House on Haunted Hill" ; and the 1960's "Thirteen Ghost" movie.

But the latter is only remembered because of its modern remake, much more well-known and talked about: 2001's Thir13en Ghosts.

AND, the production company behind this movie "Dark Castle Entertainment", was also the one behind 1999's House on Haunted Hill - in fact, both movies were supposed to be released together as a double-feature...

And if we push things even further, the same way Mike Flanagan's Haunting of Hill House actually bears a huge influence from another horror classic (The Shining), 1999's "House on Haunted Hill" also bears the strong influence and pays a heavy homage to a cult horror movie: 1990's Jacob's Ladder...

... While also reusing deleted elements from another horror movie released earlier: 1981's "Ghost Story"...

... adapted from the 1979's novel "Ghost Story" by Peter Straub...

... Itself heavily influenced by Henry James' ghost stories (remember, the author of The Turn of the Screw). In fact, Straub was called a "modern-day Henry James" due to this book.

[polyhexian]

I like how the eventually AU gives Camila the opportunity to get another adult's perspective on Luz and the Boiling Isles during the human realm stay. Like, no offense to the kids, but when you're a parent and you're trying to determine if your child is in an okay situation, you're going to put a bit more value on the insights of a fellow adult than those of a bunch of teenagers. Let alone when the situation is that your kid had a secret summer-long stay in another dimension.

So I'm imagining one of the rare moments they get to talk when there's no kids around cuz they're all out trying to build a portal door or something, and it's like

Camila: I've just been so worried about Luz, she's always had trouble fitting in, she's never had any real friends, her teachers don't like her, it's hard for her to focus on things she's not interested in and she has trouble applying herself, I know she's smart but her grades are all over the place, she'd rather think about her fantasy worlds instead of do anything to engage with or prepare for living in the real one - except it turns out she's found a REAL fantasy world? And I'm not sure if that makes things better or worse.

Jasper: Uh, your daughter has made several very close friends and is generally accepted by the entire student body, she rediscovered an ancient type of magic usage that everyone forgot about ages ago, her teachers love her, she successfully convinced her principal to LET students study multiple tracks despite wild magic having been forbidden for fifty years, she's handled every adventure and scrape she's ever gotten into beautifully, she routinely surprises and impresses her mentor Eda the Owl Lady who was up until recently one of the most powerful people on the Isles, she broke Amity free of her parents' toxic influence and successfully deprogrammed my son out of a cult, she's friendly and creative and brilliant and everyone who knows her is extremely grateful to have her in their life.

Camila: …

Jasper: …

Both: Are we talking about the same kid?

Which is GREAT

what I love so much about Luz is how much she blossomed in this world and how much her old one stunted her. Makes me crazy that she finished human high school for whatever reason before moving permanently to the isles. I like to think Camila would see that her daughter belonged where she was happy, that the right place for her was, as much as it hurt, not here. And she would rather her be happy than be with her. Obviously she still sees her all the time but like. Luz is herself, all the way, without apology, in the world she found, and she is loved there and understood there. I think vee and Luz make such awesome- foils? Parallels? In that way. Both were brought up in these worlds that suffocated them and stepped into a place where they blossomed, where they could be genuinely truly happy. Vee had only lived in the human realm a few months when the rest of the crew showed up but she'd already fully adapted to human realm stuff! The same way Luz immediately just adapted to everything witchy. Amity and Willow panic at the sight of an alarm clock. Vee is already so familiar with this world she knows how fire extinguishers work, what human food is supposed to taste like, how to speak Spanish and use a cell phone and alarm clocks. The way Luz is like oh NO teenagers but vee just happily sits down and talks to them. These people are like her. They aren't like Luz. Luz is an outsider in the world she was born in and so was vee and it is so much better for them both that they found somewhere they could actually BE.

Anyway yeah lol this timeline Camila can really get the full perspective on how incredibly well Luz has done. From Camila's perspective her daughter ran away from home and when she came back she was wounded, traumatized and seriously depressed. She didn't see how genuinely happy and at peace Luz was there. She is totally reasonable in suspecting this place was Bad For Her.

But while Luz is unwilling to talk too much because she's depressed and all the kids have limited perspectives and probably aren't comfortable talking about luz to her mom anyway- jasper can fully be like yeah no dude you have no idea. She's a bright star people flock to. She's so confident and happy and optimistic and kind. She literally deprogrammed my child soldier son and rescued him from a cult. Won't lie to you ma'am, your daughter has put her life at risk many times and many people have tried to kill her- but they all failed because she is so strong and so loved that he is never alone. Luz is legitimately a hero.

What a wild thing to hear about your child. Both the danger she has been in but also... How much she has flourished within that danger. Your fifteen year old daughter's passion is in saving people from shark attacks or something. It's not just that she's happy, it's that she's strong, fulfilled, passionate, she's filled with a LIFE she never was before.

[wilcze-kudly]

Hi, I need to ramble about Korra villains and how terrifying and good they are.

First is Amon, a creepy cult leader who literally makes Korra's worst nightmare come true by taking away her power, all that she was - she never saw herself outside of her bending. He destroyed her. Then was Unalaq who manipulated her because he was her uncle and cut off her past lives (which must be devastatingly painful, by the way). Then the Lotus and Zaheer, who gave her years of trauma, and Kuvira, who Korra saw herself in.

My point is, they're all targetting and influencing her specifically. While Ozai just wanted to kill the avatar, as a figure, Korra's villains go after her specifically, using her personal weaknesses and psychologically torturing her. Because like, I remember seeing it at like 9, and Amon was fucking terrifying. The convulsions of people under bloodbending were scary, and so was his terror towards Korra. She had so much shit to deal with. And I love it! It makes the show psychological, esp s4, and I really saw my personal struggles in Korra so much it's insane.

Also unrelated but I actually love that Katara is not a famous warrior (no statues) but a quiet healer because 1. She's still alive and in contact with others so no statue and 2. She was fighting out of obligation, not hobby, and her main goal was always to help people in need. Nkthing wrong with her taking a more nurturing role as an old lady.

Also, mówisz po polsku?👀

I hear that! Tlok villains are one of teh highlights of the show. When i tell you that I had genuine nightmares about Amon... what a villain to start the show off with. Especially when Amon took Korra's bending and she was so obviously planning to kill herself.. like there's something so visceral about tlok villains

To Ozai, Aang was just an obstacle. But a lot of Korra's villains directly targeted her, to the point of her being the Red Lotus' main mark. I could ramble about tlok villains all day buy i think you said it very well.

And you're right about Katara, too. I know a lot of people hate how the Gaang was portrayed in tlok, but I really like it? Katara was a character who had a lot of rightful rage and pain in her from a young age, so seeing her just being able to do something that was so important to her, like healing people, is so sweet. She deserves to chill. Also I think, she may have a statue, or whatever, though she strikes me as the person who'd be least invested in having a statue. She's not dead or a world leader, technically. And Toph's statues was in front of the police station and in Zaofu, both places she had a lot of involvement with. Katara may have statues around hospitals, or in the southern water tribe culture centre. We haven't explored all of Republic City.

But even if she doesn't have a statue, that doesn't mean she isn't respected or revered in her own right.

Jasne, że mówię po polsku, urodziłem się i mieszkam w niej 🇵🇱