#i've been at it for 3 days it's litterally impossible to have it work on all races

[bg3screenshotdump]

what the fuck is going on with the physics nowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

it was working fine 5 minutes ago >:(

i didn't change anything about the model or physics uuids aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[your-divine-ribs]

The Devil Next Door Part 3

Words: 3k

Warnings: SMUT! Sexually frustrated characters, everyone’s wanking (I’m so sorry) Why do I write this stuff and then feel the need to apologise for it ha ha 🫣 There’s some of Van’s POV too… ❤️‍🔥

Devil Next Door Masterlist Main Masterlist

You stand on Van's front doorstep, finger poised hovering over the doorbell, trying to psyche yourself up. You've just provoked him into an angry state and now you've actually got to swallow your pride and be nice to him. Well... you don't actually have to be nice you suppose, as long as you're 'civil'. That's what he said wasn't it? You're not giving him any more than that...

There's a scuffling sound behind the door and then it starts to swing open, slowly at first but then it's opening wide, Van's tall, slim frame filling the space. His face cycles from curiosity to surprise then settles on that smug grin of his that you're so used to seeing. Irritation already starts bristling inside but you try to dampen it down, crossing your arms across your chest in a defensive pose. Van mirrors you, but in contrast to your stiffened stance he's much more relaxed, leaning casually against the frame, his head cocked back as he gives you the once over.

"Well, well, this is a surprise. Can't keep away eh? Or maybe you've come round to apologise? Is that it?"

His voice raises questioningly but you ignore his ask, keeping your tone steady and flat as you speak. "Actually I've just come to pick up a parcel. It was delivered today whilst I was at work. Do you have it?"

Your cheeks start to warm immediately and you try in vain to think of something else... anything else but the contents of your package to distract you but it's futile. You're sure your shame and humiliation is written all over your face as clear as day and Van can work out exactly what's running through your mind. But that's just impossible... isn't it?

The corners of his lips twitch into a wider smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. "A parcel?"

"Yes, you heard me," you say, anxious to get away. "Do you have it?"

He shrugs, lazily, looking thoughtful. "Hmmm... Might do... I'd have to check. You coming in?"

"I can wait h..." you start to say but Van reacts before you can get your words out, stepping forward and draping an arm over your shoulder, ushering you inside. You shuffle forwards against your better judgement, cursing silently as your body involuntarily tingles under his touch.

"So... this parcel then? It's something important, right?"

"Does it matter what it is?" You snap, failing to keep your composure.

"It's just that you seem very keen to get it..."

Why the hell is nothing straightforward with him? You follow him into the living room, glancing around quickly, trying to be surreptitious like you're not really interested at all in how he lives. It's not unclean but it's a little untidy. There's a guitar propped up against the coffee table where a messy sheaf of paperwork's been strewn, a jacket slung in a heap on the sofa. A few mugs with half drunk cups of tea that look like they've been forgotten about and an ashtray on the table with a smouldering cigarette propped on it's edge. For saying two young lads live here you're actually pleasantly surprised. You were expecting a slovenly mess, maybe the remnants of a recent party littering the space and takeaway packaging still soiled with last night's dinner. There's none of that.

"Just give me the bloody parcel Van... without the interrogation if that's alright?"

"Okay! Okay!" He says defensively, hands raised up. "Just making conversation, that's all. No need to get your knickers in a twist!"

He starts sniggering then as he turns to reach for a large box which sits on the bookshelf behind him. Your eyes follow his movements, your irritation giving way to a shocked kind of horror when he picks it up and you see the flimsy plastic covering gaping open around a huge gash in the side. Black lace spills out as he holds it out to you, a wicked delight dancing in his eyes as he takes in your surprise and embarrassment.

"Talking of knickers I'd say you ought to put in a complaint to wherever you ordered this lot from," he grins. "The packaging's shocking. You might wanna check it to see if everything's still there. Postman might've run off with a pair of your panties or something!"

It's not often you're rendered speechless but this is one of those times. It's obvious that not only has Van seen the skimpy lingerie that you've ordered, but he's also noticed the vibrator. You can see it now as he holds the box out to you in his outstretched hand, an image of the toy clearly displayed on the side of the box where the packaging's hanging open. You dart forward to take the box from him, keeping your eyes cast downwards so you don't have to look directly at him.

"Errr... thanks.... I'd better errr... get going then," you mumble, ferocious heat painting your cheeks scarlet. It's excruciating knowing that Van's probably judging you, and knowing him it's probably with some misguided macho bullshit theory that you're somehow lacking because you're seeking pleasure in this way. His next line confirms this.

"Oh don't be embarrassed," he says as he steps towards you, still firmly holding the package even though your fingers are curled around it. "We all get a little sexually frustrated from time to time. There's no shame in it."

You want to slap him. God, how you'd like to wipe that smug, knowing smile off that smirking face of his. You can imagine it now. How good it would feel to unleash on him, how he'd try to restrain and subdue you. To your surprise the thought of provoking him like this sets an unexpected heat flooding between your legs. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Stop it Y/N! Don't let him wind you up! Just turn around and walk away!

Fortunately the rational part of your mind that's urging you to retreat and keep your dignity wins over your improper thoughts. You snatch the parcel away out of his hands with force.

"Actually I'm certainly not sexually frustrated!" You mutter.

Van nods slowly, eyes glowing with playful mischief. "If ya say so love!"

"Not that my sex life's any of your business anyway!"

You whirl around quickly, making for the hallway and the front door which is still ajar, opening it and stepping through. All the time you can hear Van's footsteps slapping heavily behind you on the floor as he follows you closely but you don't look back, even when he shouts out a sarcastic farewell.

"Bye Y/N... it's been a pleasure to talk to you... as always!"

You slam your front door and lean heavily against it, cursing yourself for letting Van get to you. You never normally let people affect you in this way, and especially not guys. You contend with worse at work, much, much worse... and you deal with them calmly and professionally without even raising your pulse. In contrast now your heart's thudding in your chest and every nerve in your body's bristling. The worst thing is it's not even an unpleasant feeling. A curious kind of energy flickers through you every time you go up against Van and you're strangely missing it already even though a moment ago you were desperate to get away from him.

You try to push the thoughts away, trudging up your stairs and throwing the damaged package down on to the bed before cranking the windows open wide to let in some much needed fresh air. You quickly strip off your uniform, flexing your weary muscles and heading for the bathroom, letting the shower run to heat up as you unhook your bra and slide your panties down your legs, kicking them off.

The warm water feels amazing cascading down on you and you tip your head back, humming a tune to yourself as you massage shampoo into your hair. There's something so therapeutic about a shower, after a hard day at work you feel like the water's washing away all the stresses and the negativity. You can practically feel all the bad stuff trickling away in rivulets down your body and swirling around the plug-hole. It feels good. You can clear your mind... almost.

As you squirt shower gel into your hand and start to lather it up over your body your thoughts start to wander down darker paths. An image flicks through your mind suddenly of Van in the shower, the water gushing down over his naked form, his body slick and glistening under the spray. Fuck... one of your hands skims over your nipples which pucker under your touch and the other strays down between your thighs. A small sigh escapes you as you close your eyes and indulge yourself. Now you're imagining that Van's in here with you and it's his hands caressing you instead of your own. How good his lean, naked body would feel pressing yours up against the cool tiles, trapping you there, his lips sucking bruises on to your neck.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't try to stop them this time. You're too far gone... and what's more it feels too good. You quickly rinse the lather from your body and step out of the shower, not even bothering to dry yourself down as you rush back to your bedroom and sit down on the bed, dripping wet.

You're completely inexperienced when it comes to sex toys so you're a little daunted when you've ripped your new vibrator out of its packaging and it's lying there thickly in your outstretched palm. You probably should have gone for something a little more understated instead of this larger than life model but you imagine how it will feel stretching you out and you can't help but rub your thighs together in anticipation. You know you're on your own and no one has any way of seeing what you're up to but you just feel so naughty... so wicked... that you can't hold back a giggle of delight. Just imagine if Van could see you now. He has the nerve to call you 'uptight'? He probably thinks you're sexually repressed. Well, you'd soon show him that's very far from the truth.

You lie back on the bed, spreading your legs and switching the vibrator on at the lowest setting. It hums gently in your hand and you take a deep breath, running it lightly up your inner thigh to test the sensation. It feels nice, a little ticklish in a way that makes you squirm pleasantly, so you take it a little higher, sucking in a sharp inhale as it brushes over your clit. Feeling emboldened you flick it up a notch and slide it over again, this time letting it linger there. Oh... that's good. Really good. You sigh deeply, moving it downwards and pushing it through your folds, collecting the wetness that's gathered there from your arousal. The slickness just enhances the sensation all the more, and this time you moan out loud. It feels good to let yourself go, liberating in fact... and it's not like anyone can hear you...

❤️‍🔥 Van's POV ❤️‍🔥

"There's always something to hide, there's always someone to lead on with you... FUCK!"

I hiss out a curse as my finger slips off the string, a sharp twanging sound emanating from the guitar. This is ridiculous. I was in a perfectly good mood before Y/N went and fucking ruined it... again. Now I can't even play the new song we're supposed to be debuting at the gig on Friday night without messing up. Once again she's got my head in a spin.

I don't know what it is about her but since we moved in next door last week she's completely got under my skin. It was plainly obvious she'd taken a dislike to me on first sighting without even giving me a chance, but I was used to that. People were quick to judge on appearance, especially when they found out I was a musician. One look at my ripped jeans and threadbare jumpers they probably figured I was just a work-shy waster, spending my days getting stoned and writing inane lyrics to songs that'd never be recorded, destined to a life waiting for the next benefit payment to clear. That was complete bullshit of course. I worked bloody hard to get this band off the ground, all the lads did. We'd had plenty of knock backs and disappointments along the way but I was nothing if not determined and my tenacity was starting to pay off. We were booking more and more gigs, turning heads, getting noticed. We were gonna be big, I just knew it. I just had to keep my head straight, stick to the plan, keep focussed... no distractions.

Hold on... what the fuck was that?

I'm sitting outside on the bench by the back door, cradling my acoustic guitar. It's peaceful out here on this quiet estate, the only sounds the occasional dog barking and the muted sounds of cars passing by infrequently on the adjoining road. Now I can hear a new sound, a soft kind of moan which instantly makes my ears prick up. I sit stock still, fingers splayed on the strings, listening intently but there's silence.

It's probably nothing, I might have even imagined it. Either that or Y/N's watching some crap on the tele.

I glance up and see her bedroom windows flung wide open. I figured it's her bedroom because I've heard her moving about in there late at night and my bedroom's right next door. It's not like I'm a creep or anything, I'm not in there with my ear pressed to the wall... the walls are just paper-thin so I can't help it. I can hear her singing and stuff sometimes. She's actually got a really pretty voice despite the way that she's always hissing angrily at me like a wildcat.

I look back down at the frets, positioning my fingers, ready to play.

There it is again! This time it's louder, and it's definitely a moan, and a fucking sexy one at that...and it's definitely coming from Y/N's bedroom window!

What the fuck? Is she watching a porno up there?

My heart immediately picks up a pace and my throat goes dry as I slide the guitar off my lap and stand up.

Just ignore it Van! Just go inside, put the kettle on, have a cuppa. Quick tea and ciggie break and then you can go back to practising for the gig.

I go to step inside but then I hear it again. It hits me then. The parcel I took in for Y/N with the ripped packaging. The contents. That's what she's up to! I'd tried to just be the helpful neighbour, I really did, but when I saw the black lace hanging out the side I couldn't resist a peek.

Christ sake... images of her lying on the bed with her legs spread wide, naked and pleasuring herself fill my head. Another drawn out groan drifts down from above and I can actually feel my dick stirring in my pants.

Go inside Van! You really shouldn't be listening! Go inside and shut the door. Occupy yourself and forget about what's going on next door!

I do step inside, but I ignore my inner voice of moral reason. I'm too invested now and too fucking turned on to do the right thing. I take the stairs two at a time, my mind racing as I picture Y/N writhing on the bed just a few feet away, my jeans getting tighter by the second. By the time I'm bursting into my room and quietly tip-toeing across the floor, carefully easing my bedroom window open my heart's pounding out of my chest. I quickly unfasten my jeans and slide them down my hips with my boxers. I wrap my fingers around my stiffened cock, sighing with relief as I start to pump myself hard and fast, bracing myself with my hand against the wall.

It's wrong, I know it's wrong. Poor Y/N's got no idea I'm getting myself off on the other side of the wall to her impassioned moans. She'd be disgusted if she found out, absolutely horrified. That doesn't stop me though. I close my eyes, focussing on the whimpers and the sighs as they build in intensity, imagining them falling from those pretty pink lips of hers. In my mind's eye it's her slender fingers wrapped around my cock rather than my own.

Fucking hell... she must be getting close now. It sounds like she's having the time of her life with that bloody vibrator. I've never been so jealous of an inanimate object in all my 22 years! I wonder what my name would sound like moaned in the throes of passion whilst I picked her up and fucked her hard up against the bedroom wall, her legs wrapped around my hips whilst I pounded her into oblivion.

She's so loud now, but why would she care? She has no idea that anyone's listening. I quicken my pace, sliding my hand up and down my throbbing length. It feels so good. Any second now I'm gonna fucking blow.

"Oh yes... oh god yes... oh fuck... Van... Van... yes..."

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK???

My climax hits me like a freight train, the sound of my own name pushing me over the edge in an explosion of white hot pleasure, thick ropes of cum splattering all over my shirt and spilling over my fisted knuckles. I'm biting my lip hard to suppress my own moans as I curl my body in on itself, riding out my high.

There's silence now from next door as I reach down for a discarded sock from off the floor and wipe myself down.

Did I really hear my name? Surely not! Y/N acts like she hates me, always sniping at me and spoiling for a fight. I must be mistaken. There's just no way.

It sounded exactly like my name though. And if it was it means that she was getting herself off thinking about me... whilst I was getting myself off thinking about her...

I know then that I'm fucked. Proper fucked. I want her... I really want her. I've got to have her...

[shallowseeker]

Cas, the angel tablet, and knowing his own heart, part 2

Cas flees with the tablet and ponders his own heart's motivations. He wants to protect the tablet from everyone, and then...he specifically wants to shield humans from the brutality of Heaven.

Part 1

Part 2 (You are here)

Part 3

== Cas cares. He's always cared. ==

(That's the big secret.)

It's what Heaven has worked so hard to hide from him, and other angels: their emotions.

In 8x21: The Great Escapist Cas is on the run, creating a quantum superimposition using the sameness of small-town diners. The scene opens with him watching a watch as it ticks down.

A waitress brings him coffee, the beverage that will become part of his morning routine with Dean in the bunker.

"I guess I've been acquiring the taste," he says.

She is a clue to reading Castiel's heart (and Dean's).

She's dressed in red, and she wears a light-up pin over her heart, one that points to her left shoulder. It's TWO HEARTS, pierced by an arrow--another blended angel-human family/love motif.

Her name is KARA/CARE. Her nametag is almost literally, "Bigger sons care." To be the bigger man, the better son, the better human, or the better angel, you must care.

Love is the strongest weapon there is.

And Cas is here, at the family restaurant, ordering a smart-heart meal:

CASTIEL: Feels like I've been on the run forever. KARA: Uh, I'm sorry, mister, but you're gonna have to order more than coffee if you wanna keep the table. CASTIEL: Of— of course, um. [glances at a menu] I'll have the smart-heart beer-battered tempura tempters.

///

== We will hurt what you love. Then, you'll stop running. ==

The Angel Tablet has become something of a of a Hitchcock device, a holy MacGuffin of Mass Destruction, but it still has glimmers of relating to matters of loyalty and heart. The angels lament that they can't catch him, because he is choosing where to go next.

Naomi is angry: "You're saying that you can't catch him...Very well. You say he can't be caught? Then we will simply have to make him stop."

Your love is your strength and your weakness. It's an off-key parallel to John Winchester, running from destiny and demons, and foolishly keeping his boys at arms' length to "keep them safe." But Cas's heart is bigger. He stops. He has to stop.

KARA (O.S.): You have to stop. CASTIEL turns to look at her. KARA lies crumpled against one of the booths, her eyes having been burned out. KARA: They said you have to stop. CASTIEL: No. KARA: They said you have to stop. CASTIEL moves over to her. CASTIEL: No. KARA: Just stop... you have to stop... CASTIEL: No. KARA: You have to stop. [CASTIEL reaches out to heal her] They said you have to stop. ION and the other ANGEL appear behind CASTIEL. ION presses his angel blade to CASTIEL's throat. KARA: You have to stop.

"Kara: Stop." -> Care: stop. -> STOP CARING.

And here we have another hidden part of Castiel's heart revealed. He's not just running to protect the tablet from his human family; he's running to protect his human family from his angel family.

Cas finally comes to a stop in the family diner, but it's littered with bodies and overturned chairs. Standing against Heaven is a bloody, no-win situation. Running is impossible.

Heaven will kill his loved ones.

Death is inevitable.

They know he cares too much for his human family. Ion foreshadows Castiel's punishment--an angel blade to his throat--where his grace will be ripped out.

///

== Now that Cas's heart is unboxed, Cas is processing his past and integrating the ugliest truths about himself ==

Metaphorically, Cas is processing how much he cares, and in turn, Naomi reveals more of his past crimes (to his horror). Cas is beginning to see himself, to know himself more completely. And he's beginning to create a more complete picture of Heaven's true power structure, too.

CASTIEL: We were supposed to be their shepherds, not their murderers. NAOMI: Not always, angel. There was that day, back in Egypt, not so long ago, where we slew every first-born infant whose door wasn't splashed with lamb's blood. And that was just PR. CASTIEL: Well, I wasn't there. NAOMI: Oh, you were there. You just don't remember it. CASTIEL: How— how many times have you torn into my head and washed it clean? NAOMI: Frankly? Too damn many. [NAOMI snaps her fingers to make one of the chairs slide over to her. She sits down.] NAOMI: You're the famous spanner in the works. Honestly, I think you came off the line with a crack in your chassis. You have never done what you were told. Not completely. You don't even die right, do you? Where is the angel tablet, Castiel?

"Bite me," Cas says, recalling Balthazar, another Emotional Angel (TM) who stood up for what he thought was right, even against Castiel. Balthazar, who didn't want to power up Purgatory on the chance that it would "blow half of earth away, too."

Balthazar did not want to destroy the village just to save it.

///

Next, Cas's guts get spilled. That is, Crowley barges in and shoots Castiel in the abdomen. "Takes a painful long time to bleed out from the gut."

That it does, Crowley.

(It's also callback to Jimmy Novak, when he was shot by demons, in season 4's 4x20: The Rapture. Cas is thinking about all of his crimes. Jimmy, too, stood up for his family. Sacrificed himself for his family. Crowley shoots Cas.)

Cas says, "The tablets weren't meant for the angels, and they weren't meant for you."

Now, I always thought Crowley was pulling this thing out of Cas's stomach, from that "gooey middle" demons are always crowing about.

But on revisiting, and looking at the location of his collar and button, that's up around the bottom of Cas's ribcage, and Crowley is reaching UP into it. He's starting near Cas's appetite for love, the stomach, but he's literally pulling it...from Cas's chest.

It's where his heart is.

///

== Cas and Ion versus Nihilism ==

And so, the angel tablet is taken. But Cas is beginning to not rely on it as much, because he's processing on his own now. Torn open, guts spilled.

Cas is developing renewed conviction. We get one of our first glimpses of Supernatural Vs. Nihilism:

ION: Do you even know what the mission was? They've been in all our heads. CASTIEL: We aren't machines for them to program and reprogram. That wasn't what this was meant to be. ION: Nothing matters. CASTIEL: You are so wrong, brother. It all matters. CASTIEL digs out the angel bullet from the wound on his stomach.

ION/"EYE ON" laments; he falls to Nihilism. Cas digs out the bullet and shoves it through Ion's eye, forcibly breaking away from the gaze of the narrative once more, to become an invisible, unpredictable Wild Card.

It all matters. Like:

CAS: It doesn't matter. DEAN: Of course it matters. 7x17: The Born-Again Identity

///

== Enter Metatron, the one who knows stuff from his head, but not from the heart (yet) ==

Just as Cas is developing a renewed idealism...Metatron appears.

He is amongst stacks and stacks of books. Plotting, hurt, angry, vindictive.

Image by DrogMiestar

Metatron has read so many books that he can intellectually recognize what he's seeing, or at least the patterns of it, even if he can't truly feel it at this point.

This bitter, angry nerd will see and understand the heart of the tablet, just as he sees Castiel's heart. He will use that knowledge of its love and power to punish.

Eventually, after he gets his Revenge, he wants to cast Cas as his Lucifer, with himself as God. In terms of storytelling, Metatron is aping what he's seen--what God put down as Epic and Big and Edgy and Wild.

But it's a vindictive, empty style of storytelling. It's heartless.

SAM: Pull the freaking trigger, you cowardly piece of garbage. All the time you've been hiding here, how much suffering have you read over? Humanity's suffering! And how much of it has been at the hands of your kind?!

Metatron saves Kevin and affects a faux wiseman shtick:

METATRON: "But really... really, it was your storytelling. That is the true flower of free will...It's your choice. And that's what this has all been about, the choices your kind make."

It will take three whole seasons (and Metatron losing everything, from his grace to his faith in the novel, to very nearly his life at the hands of Castiel), but Metatron will not always be hyperfocused on choices.

Eventually, in season 11, Metatron will not view the flower of free will as merely "story choices." Eventually, that flower will be about "humanity not giving up." It will be about resilience in the face of so many mistakes.

///

== Cas reappears ==

EXT. ROAD - NIGHT - As the Impala swerves, its headlights illuminate the figure, revealing it to be a bloodied CASTIEL. The car skids to a halt and SAM and DEAN jump out. DEAN: Cas? CASTIEL (irritably): A little help, here?

Cas is back on the road, injured. His newfound self-revelation, meditation, and knowledge have led him back to Team Free Will, the alliance with his human family.

(The road is the place where people try to find their way together. Wayfinding with your family.)

Cas no longer has the tablet, but he knows a little bit more about his own heart, and about Heaven's heartless structure, too.

///

(Text Attributions// Supernatural scripts here via @spnscripthunt. Transcripts are located here via SPNWiki. Visit their Tumblr to donate.)

[papirouge]

Hi, I'm the one who sent that sola scriptura thing in, it was supposed to link to the website and I don't know why it didn't plus the rest of the ask didn't send, thanks tumblr. I'm genuinely trying to see what refutations to their explanation you'd had, not just come and be insulted by you as if I'm an idiot because I don't understand how sola scriptura works or how people assume it's Biblical. I genuinely like reading your blog, and understand that splintering off into sects are not a good idea, and find you rather smart and funny. Now I'm not sure if I belong on this blog or should read if your aim is to hate other people because they don't understand things the same way you do. It feels like a stumbling block now since it felt hateful the tags you put but I don't want to give up on you if it's just a misunderstanding.

Well, I'm sorry you took it that way anon, but please keep in mind that some people were out there comparing the female body to a dirty cat's litter so I simply don't want to be nice and I genuinely have legitimate question on people mental state for thinking that what a clever point to defend Mary being sinless... It's not against you, because I've been receiving very inquisitive asks these mast few days I have no idea who they're coming from.

Put you in my shoes 2 second : I already spent a whole afternoon rebuking an article from a Catholic source that Catholics themselves hailed as being the best explanation as of why Mary is sinless.

It turns out the author :

- quoted scriptures saying the opposite of what he was trying to prove (especially Romans 3:23-24 establishing Jesus as the only person who never never sinned), and got like "haha b-but that's not what that passage actually means-" and brings up AN ANALOGY FEATURING A DITCH FROM SOME DUDE to prove that Mary is excluded for that "all have sinned" (???!)

- at the end he just somehow shove completely outlandish concepts such as saying that the ark of alliance is a person and that person is Mary WHILE NOT EXPLAINING WHERE IT COMES FROM.

Catholics LOVE flipflopping around the Bible to either use it when it confirms their bias and then then throw it through the windows when it's not convenient anymore. It's impossible to argue with people like that.

That's why it's so exhausting to argue with you. It's like playing a game and your opponent keeps making up rules so that he can always win.... I have precisely the same issue with Muslims who say that the Bible is corrupted.....yet say that it announces Mohamed as the new herald of God and that Jesus was a Muslim (... which implies there's some truth in the Bible....but only favoring Islam of course...)

And that's also why I'm not interested in that article/video you desperately want to me to see. Because I am sure that that that guys use same tricks as the one who wrote the article: using the Bible ONLY when it's convenient, and when it contradicts their point, grasp at straw using outlandish sources or analogy to prove doesn't say what it explicitly says..

My time is limited anon, and I have more interesting & fruitfull things to say than argue with idolators.

[naamahdarling]

05/18/22

Are you looking for a gorgeous, friendly, impossible mess of a void cat and have a home where you have no other pets? Boy have I got the guy for you!

Meet Etrigan, a 10yo DSH and one of the sweetest, goofiest voids I've ever met.

We are in the Tulsa, Oklahoma area and can drive 3 hours one way to place him, or arrange transport south as far as San Antonio!

Right now, in-person meetings at our home aren't possible, unfortunately, but if you are nearby we could let him visit your place.

He needs a new home because he doesn't get along with his brothers and is desperately unhappy here, and this has manifested in recent aggressive behavior. In a home without other pets, he would be fine.

He also has some tummy issues and is on prescription food to try to help control it.

He comes with all his shots, a clean bloodwork panel and bill of health, and exhaustive vet records going back to his adoption at a few months old. His tummy issues and a kittenhood respiratory infection aside, he has and always has had excellent health.

First, the good:

He will cuddle you in bed or lay in your lap as long as you will let him. His favorite snuggle is the Leg Hole. If you sit down and you put your feet together or loosely cross your legs, he will plunge awkwardly into your crotch with an enthusiasm that you have probably never experienced. It's actually quite charming, although sometimes he burps.

He fetches eagerly, although not always well. He's extremely playful and energetic and loves puzzle toys and activity trays and feather wands.

If you give him a window in the bedroom, he will sit so that the sun strikes him. Then he will carry all the light and all the hope of the morning to you in his fur, without you even having to get out of bed.

He loves to be sung to. His favorite songs are Asleep at Last by the Wailin' Jennies, and Forever Young. Not the Rod Stewart one, the other one.

He has one naked heel, in the back, where the gods dipped him in the River of A**holes. There is usually one white hair on his forehead.

The downsides:

He is aggressive with other cats and is not cut out for a rowdy household with kids. He must be an indoor cat, no exceptions.

He is a food thief and trash bandit. Just be prepared for his EXTREME food-seeking behavior. He will go after food you wouldn't expect. Like grape stems or tomatoes or lettuce. You will need to store things in the fridge or a latched pantry. He can open drawers.

And he's a pooper. At least twice a day, every day, he considerately lets you know very stinkily and with many loud farts, that he is not constipated. Isn't that nice?

He requires an enormous litter box, possibly with a Popemobile splash guard. Sometimes he poops outside the box, but that may be related to the considerable amount of stress that he is under having to share the house with four other cats he absolutely despises.

He's been checked by our vet, who can find no reason for him to be the worst pooper ever. He needs a specialist, which we can't afford.

Then there's his hair-trigger anal glands. If you put pressure on the backs of his thighs, he sometimes releases something that smells like Satan's Taco Bell shits. The vet thinks if his tummy issues could be improved, more solid poops would help him stop violating the Geneva Convention's policy against chemical warfare. I'm not sure. I think it's just who he is as a person. You learn to work around it.

So that's our guy. A guy I love so much I can't stand it. And because I love him, I need to rehome him

Reaching the decision to re-home him has been agonizing. We have tried meds. We have worked with the three-vet team at our clinic, and with two feline behavior specialists, and they all agree, as do we, that the best thing for him is to put him with someone new who can look after his needs better. He is so desperately unhappy right now. And we are desperate to help him.

So please, if you could spread the word so we can find him a good home? And if you think you can handle his issues and be that good home, please message me.

All I ask is that you care for him, sing to him, give him a good window and a lot of play, and keep him by your side. What any cat deserves, even a blasphemous food-stealing shit-cannon like him.

PM me here or email at naamah@gmail.com, and we can discuss getting you hooked up with your very own...whatever this is.

Thank you, and spread the word.

[pacifymebby]

Hope it’s okay to just kinda rant a little here but UGH so sick of seeing middle aged men especially who back in the day say they had a house at like 23 or something bc they knew what they wanted to do and ‘worked hard’ and they ‘contribute’ to do it like I know I sound pathetic but as someone who struggled w anxiety around a lot of people in my teens and I mean, I still do to an extent in stressful situations I had legit breakdowns a lot when in retail situations so I wouldn’t like pursue that anymore and then I had no idea what to do until like last year so idk i also had like stress eat or not eat and feel super faint or something when in those situations and idk I am just so exhausted hearing people say like ohhh yeah well I knew so everyone should go ahead and do it jsjsjsjdj

NO FOR REAL THOUGH Im glad someone ranted about this!!!!!

I honestly fucking hate how people make out its as simple as working hard.

First of all, do they know even one thing about the exploitative capitalist system we currently live in? 0 hour, minimum wage culture means people can't ever save enough money to leave their shitty jobs, they have no leverage at all, some companies litterally make it impossible to unionise. Working hard no longer = climbing the social ladder.

It didn't really mean it in the 90s but it meant it far more than it does now.

There are jobs which require doctorates which only pay £19,000 a year.

The thing that gets me most about this is that in the 90s when my parents saved for their first house, my mum had no a levels, hadn't been to uni, my dad barely had gcse's. To do my mums job in 2022 you need a good degree. To do my dad's job ur looking at a poorly paid apprenticeship (I've seen apprenticeships pay like £3 an hour these days).

Their combined income was like £40,000 a year. The deposit they had to put down on their house was £3000.

Now, in 2022 I'm more qualified than both my parents but I can't get a job that isn't minimum wage paid hourly. B has been looking at salaried jobs, he has a masters degree, hes looking at a £19,000 a year salary.

I am on roughly £13,000 a year.

If we want to put a deposit down on a flat (A FLAT) it will be like £8,000 - 10,000.

I'm not much of a maths person but I know for a fact that proves me and B who work really fucking hard, are far worse off than my parents were in the 90s.

The average income in the UK is somet between 20 and 25k a year. The cost of living is rising sharply, taxes are rising sharply (but our public services are shrinking drastically), house prices are going up, the economy is supposedly growing, but wages are stagnating. Its getting harder and harder to rent, landlords are parasites, it's impossible to save for a house when youre renting but most people have to move out their parents homes because their parents now live in inustryless husks where there are no jobs thanks to, guess who, you got it, thatcher and every tory that's ever looked up to her since.

1 in 5 people in the UK live in poverty. Most of those people are in what we call working poverty. That means they are WORKING but they still can't afford to live. Teachers, nurses, social care workers are reliant in food banks.

Anyone and I mean anyone who tries to tell me that all you need to do these days to buy a house is work hard.

I work really fucking hard thank you very fucking much.

[themomsandthecity]

7 Things I've Learned During Year 1 of Being a Mom of 2

My second-born is turning 1 in about a week (how'd that happen?!). It's undoubtedly been a roller coaster of a year, one that has somehow flown by, yet at many times felt never-ending, a strange state that I'm guessing is familiar to most moms. Looking at my now 27-pound (yes, he's huge) just-barely-a-baby baby, I'm feeling so many conflicted emotions: happiness that the days of extreme sleep deprivation are seemingly a thing of the past, pride in how much he's grown and developed, both sadness and relief that I'll never again have a little one that needs me as intensely as he has this past year, and mostly, joy that the little boy that he's becoming is mine. He's a keeper and not just because of his naturally happy, laid-back, loving disposition. I'm also grateful for the many, life-changing things that he's taught me during the last year. From the need to go with the flow to the unimportance of all that baby stuff, here are the most important lessons I've learned from the first year of being a mom of two. * This too shall pass (and I'll forget how bad it was). With my firstborn, every difficult stage (sleepless nights, teething, breastfeeding) seemed eternal and almost impossible, but with my son, I've quickly realized that we'll be on to the next thing before I know it. So when my son decided he hated the car for the first three months of his life, I didn't stress like I would have with my daughter. I knew it was just a stage, and now I barely remember it. Motherhood is great that way. * I can't do it all of the time, and I don't beat myself up about it. There are times when both my kids need something, and I have to choose who's going to have to wait (and most likely cry while doing so). This does not make me a bad mom, and my kids will continue to thrive. * Each kid is totally different, so follow his or her lead. My son has never taken a bottle, slept his first five-hour stretch when we were still in the hospital, and is happy to play independently for stretches of time. My almost 4-year-old daughter required bribery to finally give up her bottle at well past 2, still gives us a 3 a.m. wake-up call a few times a week, and would prefer to never be in a room without at least two other people present and ready to entertain her. Those and the million other differences between my two kids have taught me that they come prewired with their own personalities and unique traits, and this fact is both humbling and somehow stress-relieving (i.e. their entire futures and mental states are not totally on my shoulders). * When I need help, I have to ask for it. My daughter is the first grandchild on both sides, and I had no shortage of offers to help with her. This time around everyone's slightly older and a lot more tired, and I've had to be more vocal and resourceful. I no longer feel guilty hiring the occasional babysitter, dropping my kids off at the gym day care daily, or asking my parents to take the kids for an overnight or three. The time away makes me a better mom. * You don't need every possible gadget to have a happy baby. Admittedly, when my son was born, I already had almost every imaginable baby item, all of which I registered for and received before his big sister was born. But I barely used the bouncer, the swing, the exersaucer, or the playmat with my son, sometimes because he wasn't that interested and other times because I remembered to pull them out of the basement too late. This taught me that all that stuff wasn't really necessary in the first place. * Go with the flow or go crazy. I'm a pretty organized, scheduled person, but after my second was born, I realized that my kids' and my best days were often the ones when I had the least planned for us. Sure, I get my daughter to preschool and her swim lessons, I take them both to the gym and on countless errands, and I schedule playdates regularly, but I try not to plan too much for one day, and I also make sure we have days when we're mostly at home hanging out. * I have to trust my gut, even if not everyone agrees. For my husband and me, two kids is our limit. We knew this even before I got pregnant with my son, and I made it official during his delivery. I've been a bit taken aback by how many people in my life were surprised by this, as if my decision to stay at home with my kids should also mean that I want a litter of them. But as I've learned with this decision and pretty much every other one I've made since having my son, if it works for my family and me, that's all that matters. http://bit.ly/2DEcEOB

[themomsandthecity]

7 Things I've Learned During Year 1 of Being a Mom of 2

My second-born is turning 1 in about a week (how'd that happen?!). It's undoubtedly been a roller coaster of a year, one that has somehow flown by, yet at many times felt never-ending, a strange state that I'm guessing is familiar to most moms. Looking at my now 27-pound (yes, he's huge) just-barely-a-baby baby, I'm feeling so many conflicted emotions: happiness that the days of extreme sleep deprivation are seemingly a thing of the past, pride in how much he's grown and developed, both sadness and relief that I'll never again have a little one that needs me as intensely as he has this past year, and mostly, joy that the little boy that he's becoming is mine. He's a keeper and not just because of his naturally happy, laid-back, loving disposition. I'm also grateful for the many, life-changing things that he's taught me during the last year. From the need to go with the flow to the unimportance of all that baby stuff, here are the most important lessons I've learned from the first year of being a mom of two. * This too shall pass (and I'll forget how bad it was). With my firstborn, every difficult stage (sleepless nights, teething, breastfeeding) seemed eternal and almost impossible, but with my son, I've quickly realized that we'll be on to the next thing before I know it. So when my son decided he hated the car for the first three months of his life, I didn't stress like I would have with my daughter. I knew it was just a stage, and now I barely remember it. Motherhood is great that way. * I can't do it all of the time, and I don't beat myself up about it. There are times when both my kids need something, and I have to choose who's going to have to wait (and most likely cry while doing so). This does not make me a bad mom, and my kids will continue to thrive. * Each kid is totally different, so follow his or her lead. My son has never taken a bottle, slept his first five-hour stretch when we were still in the hospital, and is happy to play independently for stretches of time. My almost 4-year-old daughter required bribery to finally give up her bottle at well past 2, still gives us a 3 a.m. wake-up call a few times a week, and would prefer to never be in a room without at least two other people present and ready to entertain her. Those and the million other differences between my two kids have taught me that they come prewired with their own personalities and unique traits, and this fact is both humbling and somehow stress-relieving (i.e. their entire futures and mental states are not totally on my shoulders). * When I need help, I have to ask for it. My daughter is the first grandchild on both sides, and I had no shortage of offers to help with her. This time around everyone's slightly older and a lot more tired, and I've had to be more vocal and resourceful. I no longer feel guilty hiring the occasional babysitter, dropping my kids off at the gym day care daily, or asking my parents to take the kids for an overnight or three. The time away makes me a better mom. * You don't need every possible gadget to have a happy baby. Admittedly, when my son was born, I already had almost every imaginable baby item, all of which I registered for and received before his big sister was born. But I barely used the bouncer, the swing, the exersaucer, or the playmat with my son, sometimes because he wasn't that interested and other times because I remembered to pull them out of the basement too late. This taught me that all that stuff wasn't really necessary in the first place. * Go with the flow or go crazy. I'm a pretty organized, scheduled person, but after my second was born, I realized that my kids' and my best days were often the ones when I had the least planned for us. Sure, I get my daughter to preschool and her swim lessons, I take them both to the gym and on countless errands, and I schedule playdates regularly, but I try not to plan too much for one day, and I also make sure we have days when we're mostly at home hanging out. * I have to trust my gut, even if not everyone agrees. For my husband and me, two kids is our limit. We knew this even before I got pregnant with my son, and I made it official during his delivery. I've been a bit taken aback by how many people in my life were surprised by this, as if my decision to stay at home with my kids should also mean that I want a litter of them. But as I've learned with this decision and pretty much every other one I've made since having my son, if it works for my family and me, that's all that matters. http://bit.ly/2riqNx5

[themomsandthecity]

7 Things I've Learned During Year 1 of Being a Mom of 2

My second-born is turning 1 in about a week (how'd that happen?!). It's undoubtedly been a roller coaster of a year, one that has somehow flown by, yet at many times felt never-ending, a strange state that I'm guessing is familiar to most moms. Looking at my now 27-pound (yes, he's huge) just-barely-a-baby baby, I'm feeling so many conflicted emotions: happiness that the days of extreme sleep deprivation are seemingly a thing of the past, pride in how much he's grown and developed, both sadness and relief that I'll never again have a little one that needs me as intensely as he has this past year, and mostly, joy that the little boy that he's becoming is mine. He's a keeper and not just because of his naturally happy, laid-back, loving disposition. I'm also grateful for the many, life-changing things that he's taught me during the last year. From the need to go with the flow to the unimportance of all that baby stuff, here are the most important lessons I've learned from the first year of being a mom of two. * This too shall pass (and I'll forget how bad it was). With my firstborn, every difficult stage (sleepless nights, teething, breastfeeding) seemed eternal and almost impossible, but with my son, I've quickly realized that we'll be on to the next thing before I know it. So when my son decided he hated the car for the first three months of his life, I didn't stress like I would have with my daughter. I knew it was just a stage, and now I barely remember it. Motherhood is great that way. * I can't do it all of the time, and I don't beat myself up about it. There are times when both my kids need something, and I have to choose who's going to have to wait (and most likely cry while doing so). This does not make me a bad mom, and my kids will continue to thrive. * Each kid is totally different, so follow his or her lead. My son has never taken a bottle, slept his first five-hour stretch when we were still in the hospital, and is happy to play independently for stretches of time. My almost 4-year-old daughter required bribery to finally give up her bottle at well past 2, still gives us a 3 a.m. wake-up call a few times a week, and would prefer to never be in a room without at least two other people present and ready to entertain her. Those and the million other differences between my two kids have taught me that they come prewired with their own personalities and unique traits, and this fact is both humbling and somehow stress-relieving (i.e. their entire futures and mental states are not totally on my shoulders). * When I need help, I have to ask for it. My daughter is the first grandchild on both sides, and I had no shortage of offers to help with her. This time around everyone's slightly older and a lot more tired, and I've had to be more vocal and resourceful. I no longer feel guilty hiring the occasional babysitter, dropping my kids off at the gym day care daily, or asking my parents to take the kids for an overnight or three. The time away makes me a better mom. * You don't need every possible gadget to have a happy baby. Admittedly, when my son was born, I already had almost every imaginable baby item, all of which I registered for and received before his big sister was born. But I barely used the bouncer, the swing, the exersaucer, or the playmat with my son, sometimes because he wasn't that interested and other times because I remembered to pull them out of the basement too late. This taught me that all that stuff wasn't really necessary in the first place. * Go with the flow or go crazy. I'm a pretty organized, scheduled person, but after my second was born, I realized that my kids' and my best days were often the ones when I had the least planned for us. Sure, I get my daughter to preschool and her swim lessons, I take them both to the gym and on countless errands, and I schedule playdates regularly, but I try not to plan too much for one day, and I also make sure we have days when we're mostly at home hanging out. * I have to trust my gut, even if not everyone agrees. For my husband and me, two kids is our limit. We knew this even before I got pregnant with my son, and I made it official during his delivery. I've been a bit taken aback by how many people in my life were surprised by this, as if my decision to stay at home with my kids should also mean that I want a litter of them. But as I've learned with this decision and pretty much every other one I've made since having my son, if it works for my family and me, that's all that matters. http://bit.ly/2mV8mwt