#fear feaster

[carldoonan]

Carl Catches Up On Adventure Time And Doodles Characters From Each Episode As He Goes:

Episode #016 ~ Ocean of Fear Fear Feaster

Episode #017 ~ When Wedding Bells Thaw Old Lady Princess

[furryeaglebarbarian]

Vampiric cloaker

"in the water or not their still deadly,espectially when they get closely to your neck.

[petpetpinixy]

can't stop thinking about adventure time so . the goobers in the adventure time art style for funsies

individuals under cut

[thefunniestguy]

Luke skywalker..........

[the-gnomish-bastard]

Cool titles to give your big ass monsters in DnD

Dragons:

Serpent of the Fell Flame

The Blazing Sky

Thunder Scourge

Eternal Blizzard

Blizzard Lizard

The Swamp’s Vengeance

The Winged Shadow

Giants:

Dragon’s Bane

The Cloud King

The Storm’s Wrath

Frostborn Titan

The Lumbering Glutton

The Infernal Colossus

Crater Maker

The Mountain’s Child

Krakens or other sea creatures:

Devourer in the Deep

The Hungering Maw

The Depth’s Fear

Ship Taker

Lord of the Waves

Wrath of the Sea

Aberrations and other cosmic horrors:

Secret Stealer

Star Devourer

The Forgotten Terror

The Dreaming Nightmare

Mind Feaster

The Endless

The Inevitable

Wrath of the Stars

Bane of Creation

[bardicbeetle]

There has been a longing since you were a child to be of and only of the forest. To lose yourself in tangled roots and deep soft moss and upended trees. To wrap yourself in thick red clay and come back something wholly unhuman. To find the words and symbols that would shed for you the soft skin you carry for something furred or feathered or even cut from the bark-like flesh of the wood itself. The things in the woods don't need to carry the same fears you do. Their inevitabilities are not the same as yours. But you have always thought rotting here amongst the thick sweetness of a north woods swamp might feel better than suffering another moment in a body that has to someday do taxes, pay rent, buy gas--is it not enough to let your hair become the leaves?

Were you to erupt someday, the words found, the song sung:

(you know the drill reblob for sample size)

[yahoo201027]

September 25: Happy 73rd Birthday to Actor Mark Hamill, who provided the voices of the characters of the Fear Feaster in the Adventure Time episodes “Ocean of Fear” (2010) & “Billy’s Bucket List” (2014), Fire Lord Ozai on Avatar: The Last Airbender, Skips on Regular Show, and Mr. Block on Milo Murphy’s Law.

[smittenroses]

Hiii

If you have time could you write Hastur comforting (or helping in his own strange way, he's still an eldritch god lol) overstimulated reader.

Sensory overload has been kicking my ass recently </3

Your work makes me so happy, and motivated me to start learning how to write in my free time

— To Be Human

ask box open | commissions open | hit the tip jar | Patreon

Fandom — Identity V Pairing — Feaster | Hastur/reader (suggest this takes place in the same universe as the Mouse and the Cats) Summary — Hastur's knowledge of humans is still lacking. You constantly confuse him — he adores that. Content Warnings — mentions of Hastur eating people Word Count — 532 words Author's note — when I got this in my inbox my heart bloody melted, nonnie. To be the person that motivates you to learn how to write is such an honor and I do hope to be able to read your stuff sometime in the future 💕

Endless knowledge, endless power, and yet Hastur always found himself to be confused by you. So tiny, so frail against his mighty form, one that you had grown close to despite the knowledge he had feasted on mortals, feasted on the innocent and guilty alike, yet you always sought comfort in his endless robes.

“For what does my most devote follower need?” He asked one day as he felt your presence against the back of his robe, feeling the way your arms came to wrap around the vast colours of soiled yellows and whites of his sins, your face pressed against the fabric that smelt of the sea. When you did not reply, he allowed his body to shift ever so slightly to look down at you, seeing the way your hands trembled and shook. Though his form of slightly involved his body contorting in inhuman ways, his spine audibly growing and shaping in order to allow him to commit the impossible.

Like a rabbit or sheep ready for the dinner table, your soul smelled divine to him as the two of you stood in the manor’s library.

“I cannot aid you unless you speak up, mouse.” His hand came to cup itself under your chin, raising your face away from his clothes, tentacles appearing from the abyss to slowly stroke at your legs. “Ah, have you been crying, little one?” He muttered, his thumb coming to caress your cheek. “I can smell your sadness,” he muttered softly, even if his voice may boom like the mountains in your mind, “who did this to you?” To make a devotee cry, to sadden the one thing that did not fear him besides the snake wrench that wandered the halls, it was a notch on his soul, one that fanned the embers of rage that constantly welled in his heart.

“No one…” You finally muttered, your words soft and meek in reply, “the world is just too loud, lord.”

“Too loud?” he questioned as you buried your face back into his robes, escaping the merciful touch of the Lord in Yellow as you weeped. “What thing do I have to silence to bring you peace?” For you, he would send any animal, person, god to the abyss, to the eternal silence and madness that was where he crept, but yet your fingers clenched tighter on his cloak and he knew all at once something that made his soul ache and burn.

This was not something he could squash with the weight of madness. He could not even grasp it in his feeble hands. “Talk to me, dear mouse. What is it that makes you cry so?” As you began to talk about the sound of the wind in the trees, the texture of food you dislike, the feeling of cuts and bruises on your skin that would not fade; it all overwhelmed you so, caused for your mind to whirl and your senses to increase.

“Stay for as long as you need, mouse.”

Wrapping the edges of his coat around your shoulders, he did not let you leave until your heaves softened and your eyes dried, you were his most devoted follower after all.

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

靈鳥 /重明鳥 /Four-Eye Bird（chóng míng niǎo - a legendary bird from China）its call likes the phoenix. 上古時代的神獸靈鳥。

双睛（そうせい）は、中国に伝わる伝説の鳥。

先知 The Prophet 《論法律》 On Laws By 紀伯倫 Kahlil Gibran (Lebanese-American, 1883-1931)

Then a lawyer said, But what of our Laws,

master?

    And he answered:

    You delight in laying down laws,

    Yet you delight more in breaking them.

    Like children playing by the ocean who

build sand-towers with constancy and then

destroy them with laughter.

    But while you build your sand-towers the

ocean brings more sand to the shore,

    And when you destroy them the ocean

laughs with you.

    Verily the ocean laughs always with the

innocent.

    But what of those to whom life is not an

ocean, and man-made laws are not sand-

towers,

    But to whom life is a rock, and the law

a chisel with which they would carve it in

their own likeness?

    What of the cripple who hates dancers?

    What of the ox who loves his yoke and

deems the elk and deer of the forest

stray and vagrant things?

    What of the old serpent who cannot

shed his skin, and calls all others naked

and shameless?

    And of him who comes early to the

wedding-feast, and when over-fed and tired

goes his way saying that all feasts are

violation and all feasters lawbreakers?

    What shall I say of these save that they

too stand in the sunlight, but with their

backs to the sun?

    They see only their shadows, and their

shadows are their laws.

    And what is the sun to them but a caster

of shadows?

    And what is it to acknowledge the laws

but to stoop down and trace their shadows

upon the earth?

    But you who walk facing the sun, what

images drawn on the earth can hold you?

    You who travel with the wind, what

weather-vane shall direct your course?

    What man’s law shall bind you if you

break your yoke but upon no man's prison

door?

    What laws shall you fear if you dance

but stumble against no man’s iron chains?

    And who is he that shall bring you to

judgment if you tear off your garment yet

leave it in no man’s path?

    People of Orphalese, you can muffle the

drum, and you can loosen the strings of the

lyre, but who shall command the skylark

not to sing? 

然後，一位律師說，但我們的法律是怎樣的呢，大師？

他答道：

　你們樂於立法，

　但更樂於犯法。

　如同海邊玩耍的孩子，不斷地堆沙塔，再笑著將它們毀掉。

　不過當你們築沙塔時，大海又將更多的沙子推到岸上，

    而你們摧毀沙塔時，大海又與你們一同歡笑。

　的確，大海總是和天真無邪的人一塊兒同樂。

可是對那些既不把生命看做大海，也不把人制定的法律視為沙塔的人，又當如何呢？

對那些把生命看做石頭, 將法律視為鑿子能在石頭上雕出自己形象的人又當如何呢？　

對憎惡舞者的瘸子，能怎樣 ？

對喜歡牛軛，甚至把林中麋鹿視為迷途者和流浪的牛崽們，又能怎樣呢？

對年邁卻無力蛻皮的老蛇，卻把自己以外赤裸的人都認作不知羞恥， 又該如何呢 ？

對早赴婚宴、飽餐離去卻聲稱 "一切筵席都是對法律的褻瀆、所有賓客都是罪犯"的人，該如何呢？　

對於這等人，除了說他們站在太陽下卻背對太陽之外，我還能說什麼呢？

　他們只看到自己的影子，這影子就是他們的法律。

　對他們來說，太陽除了投影者外還能是什麼呢？

　莫非承認法律只不過是彎著腰跟著找尋自己在地上的影子？

　倘若你們面向太陽行走，投射在大地上的陰影能將你們羈絆嗎？

　倘若你們乘風而行，什麼樣的風向標能為你們指示方向？

　倘若你們不在任何的囚門上砸碎自己的枷鎖，還有什麼樣的律法能將你們束縛呢？

　倘若你們縱情狂歡而不觸碰任何人的鎖鍊，又有什麼法律會令你們害怕呢？

　倘若你們扯下衣衫，卻不把它丟在其他人的路上，誰又能把你們帶上法庭呢？

　奧法利斯城的人們啊，你們可以掩蓋鼓聲，鬆開琴弦，

    但誰又能夠下令禁止雲雀歌唱？

[jack-the-nibbler]

Voretober Day 2: Ritual/Eldritch

It's a perfect night to have a sacrifice, to turn the hunter into the prey...with a little surprise.

Jack couldn’t believe this was happening. One moment he’d been creeping around the Lakeside Village, hunting for survivors, when he’d suddenly been knocked out by the Seer’s owl. When he’d awoken, he was tied up, his wrists bound and claws rendered useless. Standing above him were the very survivors he’d been after; the Seer, Barmaid, Priestess, and Magician, now wearing golden robes.

“Hey, Ripper, don’t look so sad.” Eli said with a kind smile, patting his owl on the head.

“Mhm! Chin up, handsome! You’re gonna be a wonderful sacrifice!” Demi added in her usual chipper tone.

Wait…sacrifice?! Jack’s eyes widened, and he immediately started to struggle against his binds. Briefly glancing around, he could see that he’d been dragged to the sandy shore of the lake. Were they going to gag him and toss him into the water, let him drown like a rat?!

“What is the meaning of this?! I’m not going to let you miserable pests sacrifice me to anything or anyone! Untie me this instant!” Jack shouted. He froze as Servais’s gloved hand gripped his chin, forcing him to look up at him.

“There is no need to fret, Mister Sickert! You are about to become a part of something greater than yourself, serve a higher, more divine purpose!” The Magician exclaimed, a wicked glint in his eye. “This is quite an honorable position to be in. You should be excited!”

Jack…really didn’t like that look. He knew Servais to be grumpy but often well composed, but now he was speaking like a delusional madman. 

Glancing over to the water, the hunter saw Fiona tossing buckets of chum into the lake water. Bubbles started to form over the surface, the tips of purple and red tendrils emerging. Jack smiled a little, nervous but somewhat relieved.

“Aha, I see what’s going on! This is some kind of prank!” Jack said with an uneasy laugh. “Well, you got me good! Alright, you can let me go, and I’ll just go ahead and give you the match! How does that sound?

But Servais clearly wasn’t listening, as he dragged the much taller man closer to the water. Jack was forced to kneel in the sand as Hastur rose from the water; clothed in a tattered yellow robe, thick tentacles lashing against the shallow waves, multiple orange, catlike eyes staring down at the five mortals. Servais bowed before the towering deity.

“Oh mighty Feaster, venerable King in Yellow! We offer you this humble sacrifice, a fine snack to sate your terrifying hunger. We are aware that artists are a favorite of yours, and we do hope that this one is to your liking.” The magician exclaimed.

Hastur’s eyes focused on his fellow hunter, who now felt even smaller than he usually did. It didn’t help that Jack wasn’t used to him being this massive. A few tendrils slithered towards him, encircling his bound form. The Ripper found himself shivering, but clinging to any sort of hope. Hastur was always fairly reasonable, at least far more so than the Dream Witch. He wouldn’t truly hurt him, would he?

“H-Hastur, are we good? Is this a bit we’re doing?” Jack asked, gasping as thick, slimy tentacles surrounded him. They pulled away the ropes, but Jack’s relief turned right back into fear as the tendrils wrapped around him. They squished and pulsed, seeming to suckle on him. As one lapped up his cheek like a tongue, he realized that he was being tasted. Savored like a delicious treat.

“My, you’re quite delicious, Jack,” Hastur said, giving a low, rumbling chuckle. “Do not fret. I’m sure you will find my belly quite accommodating.” His tentacles lifted Jack from the ground, up towards the dark red mist that made up his “face”. Jack’s eyes widened, a plea for mercy being muffled as he was stuffed inside.

The mist engulfed the hunter, bringing a mix of odd sensations to his body and mind. It was cool and wispy like fog, then humid and squishy like a mouth. He was terrified, but parts of his mind felt oddly comforted. A few tentacles pulled and pushed him deeper before finally dropping him into the abyss of Hastur’s throat.

Jack screamed as he slid down the long, slimy tunnel. It wasn’t very tight, but it was dark, and Jack feared that he could possibly be slipping down forever. After all, what could he expect from the unearthly guts of an eldritch god?

To his relief and fear, Jack landed with a splat upon squishy flesh. He shuddered, eyes squeezed shut, fingers gripping into the stomach lining. He didn’t want to look up, to see whatever horrible innards he was trapped within. Pits of corrosive acids, unending intestinal labyrinths, fleshy growths meant to soften and absorb him…

“Huh, I was wondering when you’d get thrown in here.”

Jack immediately looked up at the sound of that familiar voice. The Mercenary was standing right there, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised ever so slightly. He did not look at all like he was worried about being inside the King in Yellow’s digestive tract.

“N-Naib? What the fuck?!” Jack yelled. “Oh god, how many others have they managed to capture?!”

“Well, I’d say they’ve managed quite a bit.” Naib gestured to the side, and Jack sat up in shock. A number of other survivors and a few hunters were milling about the vast organ. But the most shocking part was the pumpkins, chains, bats, and other Halloween decorations scattered about, complete with a refreshment table. The stomach walls had a dark purple tone with a glimmering, starlike pattern, adding to the ambiance.

“Yep, it was Servais’s idea to do something really outrageous for a Halloween party, and the others were completely on board. I think they’re having a little too much fun with it.” Naib said, shrugging and glancing down at Jack, his jaw hanging.

“So…I was never in any danger?!” Jack exclaimed. “Bloody hell, I am going to rip them all limb from limb!” He jumped to his feet, but paused, looking around. “Well…maybe later. This honestly looks kinda fun.”

“That’s the spirit. Now I’m  gonna get some more grub before the others get to it.” Naib grinned and ran off to the snack table. Jack rolled his eyes, but ran off after him. Well, he had a rather rude entrance, but perhaps munching on treats and nestling against the stomach walls to chat with his friends wouldn’t be such a bad use of an evening.

[siamesephoenixrandomideatank]

Fanon Species of Hazbinverse

Djinn

Sources of Original Concept: Pre-Islamic Persians and Islamic Belief

Djinn are Hellborns whose physical forms are made of a combination of 'steam' of liquid mana, smoke/mist, and metallic pieces containing the fire as their 'hearts'. Djinn's hearts usually take the form of oil lamps, lanterns, bulbs, glowsticks, kettles, or metallic vessels with hollow interiors with patterns and their names written on them.

The birth of Djinn is caused by liquid mana and sparks of fire interacting in the vessels those become the hearts. The spirit is formed when enough liquid mana is vaporized and smoke infused with mana's essence. Djinn don't have infancy period but starts as a child, which they grow by wisdom they earn and constant and efficient consumption of fuels and/or magic forces.

Due to Djinn's physiology, they could not harm or be harmed by physical assaults(except by their hearts/vessels being destroyed to a certain level of damage) but were highly skilled in magic, yet easily assaulted by offensive magic as well. All Djinn have an element represented by their color; Red-Pure Magic, Orange-Fire, Yellow-Air, Green-Earth/Life, Blue-Water, and Purple-Aether. Orange Djinn are fragile to water, Yellow Djinn are fragile to strong wind or explosion, Green Djinn are fragile to fire, and Blue Djinn are fragile to toxins or contaminated with oil and set on fire. Red Djinn areusually the strongest, yet easily manipulated by magic and can be killed by magic-canceling gadgets or weapons. Purple Djinn, however, arethe weakest yet can not be truly killed without being destroyed, usually being viziers or wisdom-related figures for their 'masters'.

Warp Dwellers

Sources of Original Concept: Game Workshop's Warhammer and Warhammer 40K

Warp Dwellers is an umbrella term for the species under the same Genus those can be divided into four sub-genus/species clusters. Their origin is believed to be from beyond the seven rings but in the same layer with hell, which possibly sharing ancestry with imps.

The four catalogues are Gorereapers, Poxxers, Entorros, and Daemosii. Their are sorted by certain characteristics and bloodlines, while offspring between different sub-genii are infertile.

Gorereapers' traits are having blood red skin, high muscle-to-fat ratio, got bones-based spikes on their shoulders and limbs, and having larger horns. Poxxers are identified by their yellow/green sickly hue, blood and organs festered with various pathogens which some cases may kill non-Poxxers, and having odor issues. Entorros' signs are multiple eyes and/or pairs of arms(or being a cyclopean by birth), blue or crystalline skin complex, and feathers-like hair, while Daemosii are noticed by their pink-magenta skin, tentacles-like hair, and lightweightness for their sizes.

Some of the Warp Dwellers and Imps gave birth to fertile offspring, which are usually considered being imps. However, the sub-genus usually affected the hybrid's personalities, for examples, Gorereapers with anger issue and impulsive emotions, Poxxers with 'intoxicating' and slow-thinking behaviors, Entorros with introvert and calculating nature, and Daemosii are tended to be extrovert and obsessive.

Necromorte Amberii "Feasters of Fear"

Sources of Original Concept: Stephen King's Macroverse

They are metamorphic beings started as larvae-like feeds or fear, flesh, and life force of Hellborns, Sinners, and Sentient mortal beings. They usually dwells in damp and dark places like abandoned buildings, caves, or sewers, being passive predators waiting for unfortunate victims found themselves in their domains. Their larvae form is not considered sentient as their intelligence is at best around Earth dogs, and being deaf and blind but sense surrounding by temperature, moisture, and fear instead.

After consumed and digested enough food, they will go into a deep and dark place where they hibernate and metamorphing themselves into a mature form. This stage of Necromorte takes a few years and they are unable to move themselves, being fragile to be destroyed or relocated. However, when they have reached their maturity, they will be stronger in both physical and intelligence term.

Adult Necromorte resembles an orb of orange light with eight sharp antenna-like limbs and 'fangs' which its brain and eye is are behind it. However, they can shapeshift into the victims it consumed with some adjustments by age, clothings, or mutated features to cause terror or combative uses. Necromorte usually hunts the marginalized and/or the outskirt sinners or weaker hellborns like imps or toddlers succubi/incubi few times a year, while most of the time is spent on hibernation and healing.

Necromorte's weaknesses are electrocution(revert them to original forms), alchemy-made pesticides(could blind, confuse, or irritate them, or even kill them if being strong enough) and magic-based attacks. Angel weapons also had been proven lethal on them, as they avoid hunting around extermination periods.

[quoththeowl31]

Barriere Family

Truth be told, I get Rats in the Walls vibes from the Barriere family in IDV. I know we don't have a whole lot on them except for the snippets about them in regards to locations and of course we have Lily but like I said, it's just a general vibe.

In regards to Lily's character design, why the hell does she have full on fangs? I know Luca has one too but it's a bit it hits a bit differently with Lily.

For those who haven't read/listened to the story, Rats in the Walls is about a man named Delapore, a descendant of the De La Pore family who were feared and hated because of the dark atrocities they committed until one Ancestor put a stop to the horror and fled to America (said Ancestor was seen as a hero). Spoilers below for Rats in the Walls

Delapore begins rebuilding the ancestral home, Exham Priory and starts hearing things skittering in the walls. Upon further investigation with a friend of his deceased son and other academics,(SPOILER) they discover the horrible truth that the De La Pore family was a cult of witches and cannibals and had an entire city underground where they bred humans as cattle. They committed other atrocities but this broke the camel's back for the protagonist (as he was dealing with things like grief over his son's death) and he himself devolved into the monsters they were and ate his son's friend.

The Barriere family is old money, ancient money and they clearly own a lot of land, including the land the manor sits on. On top of that, Count Barriere wanted something from Golden Cave, which at one point in game had ghouls. I'm probably pulling at straws here, but I get inklings of a family who was associated on some level with the dark goings on of the likes of Yidhra/Feaster or something far below that a meteor brought with it when it crashed.

Also Lily has fangs!

[furryeaglebarbarian]

Waith spore

"feel the sickening effects of my spectre spores.

[wtse]

Imagine if Martin had a similar thing with Kevin that carlos had.. Not the same, but similar enough that he starts Kinda Liking Kevin, and what he might do with that. Just an idea that popped in my head looking at your art and i wanted to share!

Heyyy

Sorry we never got to this, we talked about it several times in group but things just sort of came up for all of us for a while. Anyways, this is something we hadn't really considered because that wasn't Martin's roll; Martin wasn't Jon's Carlos, Martin was Jon's Cecil.

Jon was always supposed to be the one who softened to Kevin because he's a fear feaster himself so despite not wanting to admit it he's more comfortable around them so long as they're not actively trying to hurt him. There is a planned arc that dovey hinted to with this and this where we are going to go into Kevin's obsessive nature, and his all around ability to actually use and discern his powers. At some point Jon is taken to Kevin by the church and he spends time with him there and they sort of a Carlosian thing going on between them a la Carlos cheats on ceecee in the dow. He will, of course, also leave him and come back to Cecil.

That said I hate not yes anding even a little so some of the ways you can get the same fun of Martin falling in love with people he shouldn't can still be found in the fact that while Jon plays the role of Carlos, Martin plays the role of Cecil and it shows in his interactions with the people in Night Vale. Jon will never find a home in there because, like Carlos, he views himself as an outsider. He and the citizens can't manage to get along because he views himself as one with Cecil, but the people fear him and it makes it all feel forced. Like nobody can say no to his being there because Cecil said yes.

Jon and Carlos are both self inflicted outsiders, but Martin being Cecil means anytime you see anyone interacting with one of the boys it becomes more likely for it to be Martin. He's just nice and polite and warm and welcoming. Not to mention he's lonely, and we have our resident fog terror eater Deb. Smth I like to play with but we haven't made canon is that Martin and Deb get along, and have little tea dates where she laughs and introduces him to her many children husbands and wives. Martin is referenced to being close to Earl a few times, and there is a moment of betrayal somewhere s2-3 where its revealed Martin's dating Cecil too, and Earl's soooo upsetties about it. Because they were friends. And he hasn't had real friends in, gosh, since he was nineteen? :^]

Anyways! Little food for thought! We all love Martin so so so much and we love Kevin, so I get where it was coming from, but just imagine a world where Martin can walk the streets and feel welcomed and accepted by everyone. And hes so happy, and gets to go on all his little trips to indie stores and do all his cute boy desires he neglected before because the town accepts him wholesale and LOVES him.

++ Martin wasn't very socialized and has a very "i read it to be like this in a book once, I don't get why its not following the rules??? Its not right!" Mentality from his childhood, and night vale is a really great place to be in for that sort of thing. The oddness of the town sets you off at first, but after a while you learn to like that about it. And in its weirdness it feels very story booky. Martin's out there living his secret garden heroine dream, of being met with hostile that melts away as people get to know him and he never had to cut back on his own character to do it. Now hes a much loved member of the community, and people greet him warmly when he walks by and they mean to do it rather than doing it our of compulsion.

Genuinely, good for him.

- Jovey

[singersalvaged]

[ help ] sender runs to receiver when they scream for help ( for allie ! )

@aintashes hellllll yeeeeah

SEARING BLASTS OF TORTURE RIPPED THROUGH HER LEG, feeding pain to her in waves of overwhelming burning. Burning and naked, unrepressed need for salvation. Metal scraped aggressively into her flesh and from the teeth blood trickled down to the forest foliage that she sat in. Prying her calve from the contraption proved impossible and after a few screams Allie began to whimper at the thought of being left as a whopper deluxe for nearby scavengers. The only question being whether the feasters would be human, beast, or something in between.

The sight of him nearly brought wishful tears to her eyes. Sky blues broke up the heavy dirt on her face from falling in the mud and muck of recent rainfall. Though he came close, she dared not adjust in fear of further damage.

"Oh god, Daryl, help! Help please! My leg - it's caught. I don't know how to fucking get this thing open!" though she'd seen one on a few occasions Allie never resorted to knowledge of opening a closed bear trap. The rusted gadget had been dull and therefor all the more callous. Upon his advancement she quieted down, worried her noise would create heightened disturbance. "I... I didn't see it. Be careful."

[salty-dracon]

The Tale of the Newborn God: A Lostgods Story

A tale narrated by Lyra, the main villain of Lostgods. It's from the end of the story, but it doesn't spoil the ending at all and only covers the major themes of what the villain thinks.

There was once a newborn god. Human-formed, yet born of the despair of thousands of humans, they called it a living apocalypse. When it grew especially angry or sad, it would unleash waves of torment over everything it saw. It did so the moment it was born, trying to defend itself from those who did not want a god to wander the earth.

The god would appear randomly in certain places and attempt to interact, though it could not speak due to the despair in its heart. It would spend time in crowded places with other humans, attempting to copy them. But it had a distinctive appearance, and every single time it appeared, it would be hunted down by those who did not want a god to grace their world. They would threaten it, scaring the god- and so, it would lash out at anyone nearby, trying to protect itself.

The god grew to hate humanity, despite its desire to interact with it. It feared that its wanderings would be a neverending cycle of destruction.

Until one day, it happened upon a small town that learned that a god walked among them. But instead of threatening the god, they offered it a feast.

The god wept with joy at the kindness of people who offered it food and drink, adorned its hair with flowers, and welcomed it into their homes. The god wondered if this was where the cycle of violence ended. It felt the despair in his heart start to wither away and turn into hope.

But as the feast continued, the feasters were attacked by those who wanted the god dead.

The enemies pointed guns at the god, threatening to execute it. But dozens of people protected the god with their own bodies, refusing to let themselves be separated from their new friend.

Even so, they opened fire.

The god could not be killed by bullets. It could only watch, could only weep tears of blood, as every single person that had fed, clothed, and befriended it died in a bloody heap.

The rage and sadness in its heart mingled with the despair that already existed within it. The souls that formed the god wept for those who protected them. Eventually their wails turned into howling screams of rage and anguish. All of those emotions exploded outwards into a calamity that took every life within the town, drowning its people in black death.

When the god finally came back to his senses, it saw the murdered bodies of those who were kind to it. It saw the dead bodies of those who tried to kill it. It saw the dead bodies of those who had not been present that night.

It wept for the fallen, and continued on its journey.

My question to you isn't "What do you think of this story?". It's "How many times do you think this happened before the god changed what it did?" It's "How many feasts was it fed, and how many people died at those feasts at the hands of killers?" It's "How quickly did the god conclude that if those who attacked it disappeared forever, would the world become a safer place for everyone?"

Answer me this: In the god's quest for a world were all people were happy, in a quest to heal its own wounded heart, how many would-be murderers died at its hands?