#kinder goat

[verifiablebot]

huckled berries

[tetedurfarm]

pov you have cookies in your pockets

[halphhalph]

Prompt:'Cerberus Kinder Goat' Optional Prompts: Music band, Whims of a Creator, Vial, Bookbinder

Website | Ko-Fi

[creative-hanyou-girl]

PJO SPOILERS!!!

Am I the only one who thinks some people are being a little harsh on Grover for "snitching" on Percy in Episode 1? I see some people saying Grover's character has been "ruined" by having him "betray" Percy and I'm just over here thinking that gaslighting your best friend for literal MONTHS on end is just as much, if not a worse betrayal then snitching on said friend in order to get them out of the danger zone immediately. Either way you look at it, Grover betrayed Percy in both versions, and honestly I think Grover's snitching was the kinder route to take; at least Percy wasn't questioning his own sanity for months, but a few hours.

And another thing too is that I'm kind of glad their friendship seems a little tense right now in the show, since I felt like in the book, Percy just sort of brushes off being literally lied to and gaslit by Grover for months. Don't get me wrong, I adore their friendship so much but it always kind of bothered me that they never really TALKED about the gaslighting period and how alone that made Percy feel to have even his best friend say everything that happened was all in his head. I don't know, I always just wanted there to be a scene where they actually talked about it and reconcile. So I'm hoping that since the show seems to be putting tension between Percy and Grover right now, that we'll hopefully get a moment of closure and reconciliation between them.

[immamapletreekid]

person who thought going through 3hopes support dialogue on a work night would be a good idea

[betweenthescarletmoon]

Maaza Mengiste has written the most wonderful, gorgeous, treasured, poetic, profound article I have ever read, and i am so glad she spilled all those words to tell us an actually riveting and fascinating (and even subtly heartbreaking) story of Oscar Isaac's life. I want to read everything she has written.

Everyone check out her Esquire article about Oscar, it feels like a dream from how all-encompassing and immersive it is.

I'm gonna talk about it a bit so read it before getting spoiled by me.

I feel like this article, unlike literally any other piece of content or media about him, gave me such meaty psychological information, about how he thinks, about how his experiences shaped him, about what he believes, about how he copes. It was a story interweaved with so much care, so much tenderness as it was putting his life out for all the world to see. I can tell that a man as charming, as funny even during his grieving process (like during the Hamlet theatre set in between rehearsals), perhaps as proud and private as Óscar, felt comfortable for the first time to dig deep into things that he had all the right to keep to his chest.

Of course, there's another article (and perhaps a few more) that mentions some of these important parts of his life, but there's something about Maaza, who absorbs these stories. She analyzes them. She explores his psyche behind his words, and shows what she finds to us. It's so entrancing.

It clarifies the mystery to me, about how he depends on his characters, on these really intense months with new co-stars or co-theatre-actors, to truly feel and process all the wonders and tragedies that life throws at us. It explains why he plays characters with so many struggles (many of them struggles of loss, particularly the loss of parents, or of childhood trauma), and why he says that each of them represents a part of him that lies dormant, waiting to be triggered or awoken by a different situation in life. It explains why he plays Hamlet, and Jonathan Levy, and Llewyn Davis, and Marc Spector, who all hold so much resentment yet so much longing towards their parents, these parents who either are in the process of slipping from these men's hands, or have died already.

The detachment, the outsider-complex, the mixed and complex identity, the chaotic and unstable life of moving and moving and moving, the trauma of death and new life happening at the very same time, all feed this need to bury oneself into someone else, just for a while. To get to know this other someone, to discover all their different intonations and emotions and behavior and dreams and fears. To connect with this someone else that is inhabiting your body, in an indirect, third-person way. Disconnecting from your soul to watch yourself from the outside. Learning about who you are (or could be) from a safe place.

I do this in writing all the time. It's truly a normal thing, to wish to get lost in something, in art, to see yourself through that because you can't understand your identity on your own. It may not be the healthiest coping mechanism in the world, but it's a human response. To twist the chaos of your life, the confusion of your pain, into a story. Into a character. Even into a celebrity. (Am i doing that right now? Perhaps.)

I just hope to keep analyzing that and arriving at a safer, healthier place myself. To resolve things internally, and grieve, instead of choosing to escape. To show who i am to safe loved ones instead of recurring to comedy as an armor. To try to explore myself, rather than explore someone else. I hope we all learn to do this. I hope óscar does too. He deserves to find himself.

[mediumgayitalian]

Will knows who it is at the first light brush on his shoulders.

He tips his head back back, bumping his boyfriend’s hip, leaning into the hand on his trapezius, his scapula, the base of his neck.

“Hi,” he says, grinning.

“Hi,” Nico says, leaning down to press his smile onto Will’s forehead. His hair tickles his cheeks, and he smells like woodsmoke and citrus, and Will slides his hand across his jaw and tugs him closer.

“Errand done?”

“Yep.”

“Lord Hades pleased?”

“As much as he ever is.” Nico shifts, kissing the corner of his mouth, the curve of his chin, the shape of his jaw. “My ears are ringing from five days of quiet. Even the echoing sound of lost souls cannot compete with your constant blabbing; I hardly knew what to do with myself.”

“Oh, shut up. You love my chatterin’.” He smacks the side of Nico’s head, but it’s hard to play mad when he’s smiling, shameless, wide enough that his teeth nick Will’s cheekbones, that his snickers are muffled into his skin.

“If I wanted to be stuck with someone who yaps nonstop I would’ve stayed down with Cerebus. In fact he might shed less, and he doesn’t drool when he sleeps.”

“…I do not shed.”

Nico plants both hands next to Will’s head, heaving himself up, and scans his camp shirt. Within three seconds, he locates a strand of hair, pinches it off, and flicks it at Will’s face.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, for the love of — get over here,” Will demands. Laughing, Nico goes where Will tugs him, curling up next to him on the bench. “You’re such a shit. Normal people are much kinder to the significant annoyances they leave behind for five days, you know.”

“Are they.”

Nico lifts his arm in offering and Will accepts with relish, tucking himself under it and making certain to drag his curls down Nico’s face in the process.

“Yep. In fact I was expecting hand-written letters by day two, honestly, telling me how much you missed me and how the distance was physically painful, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe a sonnet or two. Italian, preferably, Elizabethan are not my favourite.”

“You’re very picky.”

Will sniffs haughtily. “Well, I’m a catch. You have lots of competition, you know. I was fighting them off while you were away but now that you come back and insult me upon reunion, I shall reevaluate my options.”

He feels more than hears the quiet laughter Nico presses in his hair, thumb brushing his collar, dipping onto bare skin.

“Is that so.”

“Indeed. My suitors have even offered a dowry quite handsome. I’m worth twenty-seven goats, didn’t you know.”

“Oh, well then. I might as well return what I brought for you, since I’m not sure I can outshine two dozen goats.”

The cool thing about being a son of Apollo is that Will has range. His dad is the god of arts, generally, up to and especially the dramatic ones. Will knows how to school his face into the perfect mask, how to smile on command and cry as desired, how to deliver a line and bow with a flourish. Playing a part comes as naturally as breathing, as naturally as healing.

“A present?” he asks, checking his nails as if the mere thought bores him. “That’s interesting, I guess.”

Nico doesn’t even bother to indulge him.

“Here, you massive dweeb,” he snorts. He hands over a small paper box, hand-folded and thin. “I can practically feel you vibrating.”

There is only one thing in this world, quite possibly, that Will likes more than proving Nico wrong, and that is letting his boyfriend spoil him. In all honesty it’s a real challenge sometimes, because Nico is really very good at being everything Will has ever wanted even if he has wrong opinions on most movies. Truly Will’s life is a joke at which the gods must howl with laughter.

Eagerly taking the box, he holds it up to his face, carefully inspecting every corner. The paper is regular printer paper, slightly waterlogged (from the Big House printer, then, ‘cause Will was carrying a giant bag of saline in from storage when he was eleven years old and tripped on the shipment of office supplies that someone had left, for some reason, in the middle of the fucking hallway, and the bag had exploded on impact all over four boxes of printer paper holding one thousand pages each) and carefully bent into shape. He recognises Nico’s handiwork from the dozens of origami paper sculptures he’s been gifted over the past few months.

“Open it.”

“What is it?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “What did I just say.”

“No, I mean — it’s not my birthday or anything.”

“So?”

“So you’ve wrapped me up a present! I want to know why before I open it.”

“Just because,” Nico mumbles, pressing a kiss to his temples. “Not everything needs a reason, nosey.”

“If nothing had reason then we would still be premordial soup,” Will mutters, but pops open the lid anyway.

He gasps.

“Oh my gods, Nico, you —”

Nico’s smiling smugly, but Will barely notices. Inside the box is a black chain darker than shadow, so dark it doesn’t even glint in the heavy sun, and dozens of little charms, from polished obsidian to a ball of slowly flickering flame.

“You like?”

“It’s gorgeous!”

He makes a triumphant nose, pumping his fist, and says, “Fuck those suitors, I fucking win,” and the funniest part is that he’s damn serious. There’s a glint in his eye identical to when he wins a sword fight, to when Connor loses a bet to him, to when twenty-odd bets are stacked against him and he’s got a full house. Something dangerous and wild and superior and Will is not an enabler, okay, he is not, but he is only so strong and there is only so much he can do when pretty boys wrap their arms around him and smirk at him and bring him bracelets they made in the Underworld. He’d like to meet someone who wouldn’t fold, actually.

“There were no suitors, you loser,” he says, but he’s flushed, pleased smile stretched wide across his face, and Nico’s grinning that too-wide grin and tilting Will’s face closer with the edge of his thumb, like he barely had to try. And there’s always a little bit of shadow leeching off him when he comes back from a quest, an aura surrounding him like he’s squaring off to the sun, and of course the wild churning in Will’s stomach has nothing to do with that but what’s he to do, really? What is a warm-blooded person with eyes that can see to do when faced with such a look?

“Of course there aren’t. They know I would reap their actual souls.”

“Possessive, much.”

“You’re literally going red.”

“Shut up.”

And he does, but only because Will makes him.

Although judging by the hand he shoves in his hair, he doesn’t seem to mind.

[elementroar]

Analysis of Paracelsus' initial bloodlust and its longlasting effects on A.B.A (Part 2)

Analysis behind the backstory and personal story arcs of A.B.A. and Paracelsus (part 1)

So this actually started out more of a 'funny' post, but I realized that it really is a very important insight into how A.B.A. and Paracelsus function and interact, especially for his earlier days in XX/Accent Core +R

And I wasn't joking about the vore. It's not in the erotic sense...but it certainly is in the 'literally eating parts of your partner ' sense...

Also apologies for the long word dumps, it got wordier and longer than I expected.

Paracelsus (used to) REALLY love blood

It goes without saying, Paracelsus really loves blood. Well he used to anyway.

By STRIVE, he says he felt he lost his sanity whenever he gets hyped on blood in the past. To the point, he has sworn off blood (and violence) as if it was an addiction. Basically, he has managed to go clean sometime between their last appearance and STRIVE.

To not go too far into his backstory again (which you can read here), Paracelsus is a magical axe that fed on blood and increased his own power with blood; and would use warriors as hosts to cause more bloodshed and thus gain more blood and power for himself. Paracelsus doesn't need to 'eat' blood to survive (he was left host-less for about 20 years, and now abstains in STRIVE and is just fine), making the addiction metaphor seem to be accurate.

Back in XX/ACCENT CORE, he needed to drink fresh blood to transform into his superpowered Moroha mode (this is mechanically replaced by Jealous Rage mode now). Similar to his current gameplay, he could get blood and transform by A.B.A. piercing someone with his bladed end; or if A.B.A. fed him one of three blood packs she'd have on her.

He reacts pretty much like a dog getting a treat, anticipating it when she reaches into her pockets for a pack too. And he truly didn't care where the blood comes from, even if it's from A.B.A. herself.

A.B.A. coughs up blood and all Paracelsus wants to do is have a taste. Note that he barely actually reacts to her or himself getting hit or fighting in the old games. It's kind of a stark contrast to his many reactions and concern for her wellbeing now.

Make no mistake, despite being "kinder and gentler" than how he treated his previous hosts - by not completely mind controlling her into a frenzy and caring enough that he doesn't want her to die - Paracelsus was truly obsessed with drinking blood still, and all the fighting skills and power he imparted on A.B.A. was to make her strong enough to defeat opponents and gather blood for him too. Hence the 'manipulation' he felt guilty of in STRIVE.

And he gets even more bloodthirsty in Moroha mode aka what Paracelsus is without his 'sanity'.

You're the worse you when on blood

Prior to STRIVE and Paracelsus' current sludgy form, his powered-up form gave him a goat's head and his persona changes into that of his old berserker self.

This increase in aggression and bloodlust also affected A.B.A. through their empathetic bond, making her also take joy in violence and also clearly hyperventilating and tweaking out in some animations, like she's high.

Not to mention that to fight in this mode, every time Paracelsus makes a successful attack, A.B.A. also gets damaged (hence 'Moroha' mode as it means 'double-edged'). In-universe, this could mean that Paracelsus is sapping both the blood of an opponent and A.B.A. at the same time, indiscriminately as he says.

And he seems somewhat crueler in this form, as he has an even more violent and vicious state above Moroha mode called Goku Moroha mode. He enters it by consuming another blood pack, but he also seems to bite down on A.B.A.'s hand without a care and holds onto it while he transforms.

The impact of all this on A.B.A

Picking up Paracelsus was truly a double-edged sword/axe for A.B.A. On one hand, he was older and savvier about the outside world (even though he spent like 20 years just rusting away on the ground somewhere) and having him as her emotional support key and literal weapon led her to actually daring to explore the outside world, and he provided and (attempted to) advised her on things she didn't know about.

On the other hand, Paracelsus' satiating his bloodthirst was still his main objective, and it was also hurting A.B.A. Although Paracelsus was making some effort to not outright get her killed, A.B.A's additional resilience as a homunculus probably also helped her survive take being Paracelsus' host as long as she did.

Paracelsus was the original toxic element in their relationship, and it's likely over the years he's come to realize and regrets the harm he was doing to A.B.A. constantly, and why he has completely sworn off blood and violence entirely by STRIVE.

However, his bloodlust fueled and amplified the worse tendencies of A.B.A. from early on, and this seems to have stuck with her till the present in STRIVE. Her current extremely violent reaction when feeling jealousy or anxiety is likely how she's been conditioned to do so by Paracelsus, even when he himself is no longer the source of that bloodlust.

The difference now is that A.B.A.'s new powered-up state of Jealous Rage is mainly fueled by her wrath and fear instead of Paracelsus' bloodlust. Paracelsus becomes sludge now, affected by the toxicity of her unstable emotions going haywire and her will becoming decidedly dominant over his. The one who is toxic has become inverted.

What's more, it seems that the skills Paracelsus imparted on her before also carried over and stuck with her, allowing her to fight independently since Paracelsus isn't trying to encourage her to violence this time. She's become so dominant that she now can even force a new form/transformation onto Paracelsus when she does her Overdrive The Law is Key, Key is King while in Jealous Rage.

In the game files, this red form is called the "Hyoui" form, meaning 'possession'. It being red is interesting because it seems to be a callback to Paracelsus' moniker of being the Sanguine Gale. The concept art also shows the pretty disturbing way he's being morphed into it by A.B.A. when she does the Overdrive.

When in her Jealous Rage mode, the bottom half Paracelsus' where his axe blade is, somehow becomes more axe-like than it ever has been in the games. In the earlier games, his blade half didn't change, only his head does into the goat-head. What's more disturbing is that eyes already started appearing on the axe half even while Paracelsus tries to maintain his original face as much as possible.

When executing the Overdrive, A.B.A. swings with the axe half as the sludge pulls from Paracelsus' face to form this new toothed red axe head. Is it a new persona? Is Paracelsus still conscious in his face half or in the axe half at all? Does 'possession' have double meaning where A.B.A. is possessed by her own wrath, but also Paracelsus is now the one being possessed by A.B.A.'s will into forming the red axe form?

The interesting thing too is that A.B.A. executes the Overdrive with precise strikes, liked a skilled warrior. IMO, at this moment A.B.A. ironically became the exact kind of warrior that berserker Paracelsus would have wanted and caused him to even revert back into that primal early form of his that was barely sentient. They gained perfect synergy for the attack, but both are literally out of their minds.

What started this post

Just a funny thing but the reason why I even thought of, and then looked into all this, was because of A.B.A.'s biting of Paracelsus at the top of the post. I was wondering why Paracelsus doesn't say a word of protest when she does this to him, then remembered that he used to kinda drink her blood (and turns out he too has bitten her before), and I think he's prolly thinking "I deserve this".

[desos-records]

Fascinated and devastated by EPIC: The Musical flipping the moral script of Odysseus' arc, yet coming to the same conclusions.

There's Classic Odysseus, who accepts that his fate and the fate of his men are out of his control. Classic Odysseus, who knowingly sacrificed six men to Scylla and accepted the cost without second thought. Classic Odysseus, who mourns his men then blames them for their own deaths because of disobedience or cowardice or hunger, comparing them to the goats herded on Ithaca.

And there's EPIC Odysseus, who from the start chafes against the will of the gods in favor of his compassion. EPIC Odysseus, who does not accept that his fate and the fate of his men are out of his control and suffers because of it. EPIC Odysseus, who is clever as ever, yet reckless with his heart.

But they are not so different as that. Troy did make Odysseus kinder. Patroclus demonstrated to them all how compassion is more honorable than any act of glory when he lied and took up arms and fought without thought to his own prestige, but only so that the slaughter of his friends would end. Odysseus saw the horrors committed after Troy's walls fell. He--the liar, the schemer, the man of many turns--understood the dishonor more than anyone and refused to repeat it for the sake of others.

They both come to understand that the wicked, vicious, ruthless aspect of their nature is acceptable when used in defense of their own. They slaughter their enemies with honor, but they will slaughter their enemies. They draw the line in the sand. Every man will be given the chance to prove their honor--hospitality and strangers, it always returns to hospitality and strangers, Zeus is the god of both and demands their sanctity--and every man who crosses that line will prove himself an enemy. And enemies will be slaughtered and sacrificed like cattle.

Ruthlessness is mercy--mercy for Penelope and Telemachus and Laertes who have suffered by his absence, who survived twenty years unprotected and three years under siege only by Penelope's cleverness. Not even to mention Ithaca and its people left without a king. Who else could have saved them? With Laertes too old and Telemachus too young and Penelope confined to only her loom and her tongue as weapons.

Were they worth the deaths of 600 soldiers? 108 young men? 12 enslaved women?

Athena, and through her the epic itself, declares that they are worth the bloodshed, for they are on the right side of the line.

[marvelmaniac715]

I made Webby and the Lords in Black on Sims 4 a while ago:

Here’s Wiggly:

I was really proud of his hair. I also gave every Lord and Webby their own special room/building, so here’s Wiggly’s:

Decorating isn’t my strong suit but his room was the most fun to design, I was thinking mostly of a grand palace, mostly in green, with a fireplace and a table with thrones for him and his siblings to meet at - notice the white throne for Webby?

Here’s Pokey:

I couldn’t find a beret so I went for a Phantom of the Opera style fedora, but the eyes I found were PERFECT (side note - they are all spell casters because that made the most sense considering their godly powers). Here’s Pokey’s room:

I’ll be honest, I accidentally mostly forgot to give him instruments, my idea for this room was to explore his different interests because he spends most of TGWDLM trying to figure out what people want, and that’s reflected in the different activities in his room. I also gave him cool wallpaper that reminded me of a beehive as a cute nod to that - I think I gave him a violin in the end that you can only really see from a different angle.

Here’s Tinky:

My inspiration for Tinky’s look here was anime characters, much like in NPMD, but I found the perfect goat eyes for him that totally add to his look. Here’s Tinky’s room:

I gave Tinky every clock I could find, but the vibes of the room were definitely meant to replicate the cube with insane patterns meant to drive someone mad; there’s a rock climbing wall in the corner that I think alludes to Tinky’s feral energy.

Here’s Blinky:

I’ll be honest; this hairstyle for Blinky was what inspired me to recreate the eldritch siblings on the Sims, it just seemed perfect, and of course I made his eyes massive so he can have a good look at everyone. The sunglasses also seemed pretty accurate to me. Here’s Blinky’s room:

My idea for this room was to give Blinky things to watch - so there’s loads of tvs, a camera, comfy chairs and even spy tech in a corner in case shoes get too unrealistic for him. A small detail that I wanted to point out is that in every room for a Lord, I have placed lava lamps on their bedside tables that match their colours, funnily enough I just found them in the game anyway and they were a perfect fit.

Here’s Nibbly:

A fluffy jacket, pigtails and a big mouth, what else do you need for an accurate Nibbly? I love that jacket, I wish I owned it in real life. Here‘s Nibbly’s room:

Okay, this is essentially a fancy kitchen with a cupcake machine, a wardrobe, a vanity and a bed - I ran out of ideas here. Still, I think it’s cute and I think Nibbly would like it if he ever got midnight food cravings. This room could save lives.

Finally, here’s Webby:

I honestly think that Webby is the most accurate, I was looking at reference images for all of them but that dress seems like it’s been ripped right from the screen, not to mention her hair. I’m proud of this Webby, I can sleep well at night knowing I’ve at least done her justice. Here’s Webby’s room:

I was definitely going for ‘ethereal’ when I designed this room, with a chill, relaxing vibe - what could be more relaxing than loads of fairy lights? I also made it a priority to give Webby plants to show that she is encouraging new life instead of crushing it like her brothers - the larger amount of windows and lights also are meant to suggest that she’s a kinder, more moral/good person.

If you like my recreations, they are all together on the Sims gallery, just search for the Lords in Black and Webby or type in my EA ID, sparklefishkatie (shameless self-promotion) because I’ve put a lot of stuff on there over the years. Now; these guys are quite old, you might have to scroll back to find them, and I can’t actually remember if I put their rooms on the gallery, if I didn’t please let me know if you want them because I’ll absolutely put them up. If you’ve read to the bottom of this post, you’re the best, thanks a lot and please download these characters if you play Sims 4! 💕

[tetedurfarm]

screaming crying and throwing up

[glitchthebitchwitch]

"Out for love." just total yuri

"And to think someone as worthless as you landed Lilith's little hottie." Adam's words rang through Vaggie's head.

Charlie was going through the streets, helping others who survived the extermination and such. She was walking through the alley way before seeing a person infront of her. The "sinner" was clearly in pain. Charlie walked towards them, noticing the details of her pain. A missing eye. She said nothing as she silently crouched down and bandaged over the eye, after the short moment ended, the sinner smiled. Charlie took in her details, short hair, on the shorter side, as the sinner gave a weak smile. Charlie was caught off guard by this, but for some reason it made her feel warm inside. She quickly looked away, smiling, but then looking back slightly. She held her hand out infront of the sinner, and she took it. "Are you okay to walk?" She asked, only getting a slight nod in return. "I'm Charlie. Daughter of Lucifer! Well, you probably already know that. Heh." Charlie pulled the sinner up by her hand. "Do you have a home I can take you to?" Charlie asked. "No." She answered, not when she was very clearly kicked out of heaven by Adam and Lute. But, she assumed Charlie didn't need to know that. "You can speak! Woah. Anyway! I think it's awesome you managed to survive the extermination looking as well as you do, besides the missing eye. And, you don't have a home? I can take you to my place! My dad has this old castle built for me, and you can crash there! I'm pretty sure it has a guest room." "Thank you.. You're kinder than any demon I've ever hea- met." Vaggie responded, she could put on a sinner facade, right? Just act like she normally does but replace angel terminology with demon terminology, easy! She had learnt alot about hell when training to be an exorcist. "Thanks! I try to be very nice. But, not many people respect me. You're one of the nicer sinners that have let me help them. Most people just tell me to go fuck myself or something like that. I get it though. It's hell!" Charlie responded, walking in the direction of her castle. As they walked up to the castle, the sinner looked in amazement. It was huge. Like, really huge. "This is where you live? Alone?" "Not really alone, I have Razzle and Dazzle with me! And KeeKee." "Who?" "Razzle and Dazzle are my bodyguards, they're tiny goats! KeeKee is a cat that can turn into a key, used for unlocking anything built and locked by my dad or me!" "That's, really, that's a lot." Vaggie smiled, though. She'd always had to endure Adam's basic misogynistic rambles, always talking about some 'bitch' who wouldn't subserve to him, but with Charlie, it felt nice for her to ramble. "So, you never told me your name." Charlie looked at her, she only thought. Vag-Gy, which sounded like "vagina" wasn't an appropriate pronunciation for a sinner, she could change it to the name she was called by Lute and other exorcists, as only Adam called her by that nickname. "Hello?" "D'ah- Sorry. It's.. Vaggie." Vaggie answered, Vag-ee was a better pronunciation, she decided. "That's a nice name! I hope you don't mind living with me, I never really gave you an option, did I?" "No, it's fine. Better than living on the streets." "We've been standing in front of the castle for awhile. Uh, let's go in!" Charlie grabbed Vaggie's hand and dragged her inside. "I'll show you to your room, and I'm pretty sure I have some clothes you can use for the night." "Thanks, again. You're one of the kindest people I've ever met, even when I was human." That was a lie, she was never human. But, the taller girl didn't seem to notice. It was fine. "Really? That's so sad! Maybe I can start a chain of events!" "Maybe you can." "Okay! Here's the guest room, if you want I can get rid of the decorative pillows. Nobody really uses this room. I'll go see if I can find Razzle and Dazzle. They're gonna love you!" Vaggie watched as Charlie walked off to go find her bodyguards. She really thought she was just gonna pass out and die right there in the alley way, but she didn't. Charlie saved her. She was different, much like how she had heard Emily was. She took off the decorative pillows and just laid there, on the bed.

[san-bika]

“I don’t tell you what to do

I don’t tell you what to say

So just let me be myself

That’s all I ask of you”

This has probably been pondered and blogged about but I’m just neck-deep in this epic adventure tale and romance and it’s just so much fun to think about. It seems to me that part of the rupture between Aziraphale and Crowley is happening because neither one was considering the other’s nature in that moment and when it became clear that they were not, in fact, on the same page that they had to really reconcile with each other’s nature and what this means for their future, it was too much for both of them.

This is where a pause, a sit, a longer conversation could have helped but with Metatron looming and the emotional tsunami Crowley unleashed by breaking their silent attraction and tacit agreement to avoid this conversation and giving Aziraphale one hell of a kiss, they didn’t have the opportunity to work through it.

Throughout their relationship, Crowley and Aziraphale accept and grow to love each other despite their differences and different natures. In fact part of their attraction to each other is the way that they defy their nature for the other and their openness to each other.

Aziraphale influences Crowley into saving children and goats and books and the world and helping peoples even former enemies, and being kind. Crowley is already a kinder demon than most, but surely some of that is influenced by the first act of kindness he ever saw, to humanity with Azirphale’s gift of the flaming sword, and to himself, with Azirphale protecting him from the rain.

Crowley, being a demon, tempts Aziraphale into indulgences and pleasure but he also helps Aziraphale understand humanity and Earth through a more realistic lens with shades of grey (Elspeth, anyone?). This isn’t just because Crowley sees the world more realistically or because he views goodness and heaven differently because of his fall, but because he wants Aziraphale to understand humans and heaven better. Aziraphale is better able to do good and love them by seeing them realistically (and probably is safer for it) compared to the harsh, cold chiaroscuro of Heaven’s black and white judgment, one that leads them to deciding that Armageddon and destruction is a good and natural inevitability.

Crowley should have known Aziraphale can’t agree to just run away from doing his duty, he’d asked him before to run to Alpha Centauri together and Aziraphale declined. It’s important to Aziraphale to be doing good, not acting selflessly. And he IS willing to abandon the bookshop if he has a different means to do good, say by reforming heaven. But abandoning the humans they have essentially been godfathers to since Eden is not something Aziraphale wants to do (and the humans are the reason he and Crowley have become an us).

Aziraphale should have known that Crowley wouldn’t want to become an angel again. Crowley had said “the angel you knew is not me” outright, has denied his goodness and kindness over and over. He may be good and kind and nice but it isn’t because of his nature but because of his choices and the empathy he has had to choose his whole existence as a demon.

Aziraphale is conflating because he believes Crowley is good and heaven is good and this is some horrible misunderstanding and he can correct it. He’s not like those other demons. But Beelzebub also makes a choice to abandon their duties and choose to love. After only a few weeks! Aziraphale isn’t ready to accept that heaven is flawed and that it’s Crowley’s choice and actions that make him lovable, not his status as a demon or angel.

Crowley needs Aziraphale to understand that while he may have learned to understand humans, he is still applying a false dichotomy to heaven and hell and angels and demons that will prevent them from being an Us until Aziraphale stops running from that rigid point of view and admits that the whole construct is flawed.

Lastly they were both acting on their impulses and desires. Crowley wanted to run away with Aziraphale and desperately hoped one fantastic kiss would do to convince his angel that he wanted that too. Aziraphale was desperately hoping that Crowley could finally be redeemed and his good nature validated by becoming an angel again, even though Crowley has rejected that validation already.

To reconcile they have to finally address the giant elephant in the room and have the conversation about their natures and their beliefs. Crowley has got to be okay with Aziraphale’s need to do his duty by humans, his need to be doing good.

Aziraphale needs to accept that his demon friend is a demon and not a misunderstood angel and that heaven has got it (and many other things) wrong.

Then, maybe, the nightingales will sing again.

[yanphobia]

Cleithrophobia - Chapter 11

Cleithrophobia: The fear of being trapped.

Pairing: Yandere Male Drider OC x Reader

Warnings (for the entire story): Yandere, Horror, Graphic Discriptions of Injury and Death, Spiders, NonCon Touching, Possible NonCon (depending on reader's interpretation), Implied Female Reader (although it doesn't really factor too heavily into the plot), Extreme Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Chapter 10 Index

Author's Note: Aaaand that's a wrap! I was going to wait until next week to post this, but you've all been so good waiting for updates that I thought you deserved to get it early. It's been so much fun starting this blog and seeing your reactions to the new chapters, and I can't wait to get started on my next story. I have a few ideas bouncing around, so stay tuned! But in the meantime, enjoy the final installment of our angry spider man!

This story was inspired by cobalt-sphinx's Drider x Reader from Quotev.

You didn't die that night; no. Death would’ve been kinder. 

Every waking moment, the events of that night haunted you. Every time you fell asleep, it was as though you were reliving it all again. 

Mars hadn’t let up the second you fell into his den. You tumbled down the tunnel that would be too steep to ever climb out of and slammed against the cold ground of the hollowed-out nest below, dimly lit with the lantern you had left in your meeting spot earlier in the night. The impact caused you to lose your breath, but almost immediately he was lifting you up again, roughly shoving his tongue down your throat as you weakly attempted to push him away. 

Then he carried you to the newly laid webs in the corner... you shut your eyes. You didn’t want to remember what happened next. 

But even now, you could still feel his hands ripping through your clothes, shredding them and leaving you in your most vulnerable state. You could feel his fangs tearing through the soft, delicate flesh of your body, the wet sound of his mouth slurping up your blood in between his loud proclamations of hate. Your voice was gone from all of the screaming, and crying, and begging for mercy, and you weren’t sure how often you passed out only to wake up again in the throes of your torture. 

He had left no part of you untouched, unviolated, and you haven’t seen him since. 

At some point, you had woken up to find him gone, and although it was impossible to tell how long you’d been here, it had to have been at least a few days. You were forced to lie there, starving and weak in a pool of your own blood and waste, as you fought with yourself to maintain your sanity. There was something inside of you, some weak desire to escape from the hell you’ve been subjected to, that was keeping you alive.  

It was quiet, but eventually you heard the scratching of his legs against the dirt walls of the tunnel. He stopped when he reached the bottom, no doubt confused by the darkness of the den. You couldn’t bear to look at your injuries anymore, and over the course of a few excruciating hours you were able to roll over and turn the lantern off. 

“This,” he said, as you heard him approach, “was supposed to stay on!” 

The lights flickered on and you saw your captor’s irritated face, which quickly turned to surprise. It would’ve been almost comical, if you had the heart to laugh. The two of you looked each other over, him, holding the corpse of a goat by its broken neck, and you, looking like a prey animal that had met a much slower end. As he took you in, his confusion turned to an obvious disgust, and the embarrassment and shame you felt at your current state overtook you. 

“...” 

“They’re infected.” You were quick to explain. “The wounds, they’ve, uh... they’re festering. They need to be treated.” 

It was awful and seeing them again was nothing short of nightmarish. There had been nothing here to clean them when they were fresh, and you wouldn’t have had the strength to do so anyway. In your solitude, you slowly watched as the area around the lacerations swelled and reddened, while a thick, foul-smelling pus leaked out of them. They burned and the redness spread around your body, along with the fever that’s been plaguing you ever since. Your skin glistened with sweat as you watched your skin begin to yellow, and then blacken, shriveling away to reveal the deep-seated fascia and layers of fat underneath. You laid there in agony as your condition worsened, all the while remembering your readings about the necrotizing properties of spider venom.  

You were rotting away, from the outside in. 

“Please...” you begged, your voice so weak and pathetic sounding that it only embarrassed you further. “Please, let me go. I just have to... have to treat it. I have to go to a hospital.” 

He remained unimpressed. “Do you really think that will work on me?” 

“I’m serious!” You begged. “I’ll do anything... I’ll come back the second that I can. But I can’t put it off any longer...!”  He eyed your injuries again, observing old blood stains on the webs underneath you. The smell was nauseating, and perhaps that was what made him compromise. 

“I’ll get you water-” 

“No! Water would not do anything at this point, not this far along.“ The only thing that could save you now was a clean environment, with plenty of antibiotics, steroids, skin grafts. 

“Please,” you tried again, “I swear to you that I will come back. I’ll die if I don’t!” 

“You’ll die?!” He scoffed. “What do you think I do every day? How do you think I feel, knowing that you’re here, wanting to be close to you, but then remembering all of the shit that you did to me?! What I suffer, [Y/N], is a fate worse than death, and all of it is because of you.” 

He leaned closer and held up the dead goat. 

“This-” he said, shaking it in front of your eyes, “is what I’m supposed to be. An apex predator, one that listens to no one, especially not a useless human like yourself!” 

And with that, he tore into its flesh. He maintained eye contact with you as you watched the meat of its body break down and liquify. You imagined yourself in the later stages of your necrosis, with your internal organs falling apart the same exact way.  

You didn’t have it in you to be sick anymore. You were too numb. As you watched Mars devour his meal, you realized that this was the exact fate that you deserved. For all of the things that you’ve done to the people you claimed to care about. For Laura, Stan, and Shadow, whose deaths you had caused. You could never be allowed to make a full recovery, physically or mentally, because you have not earned it. 

You sighed, closed your eyes, and waited for nature to take its course. 

--- 

Mars stared down at your unconscious form. You hadn’t been responsive for a few days, and he had lost the last of his patience. He knew, in his heart, that you were being dramatic, that your injuries THAT HE INFLICTED UPON YOU were not nearly as bad as you claimed. He even cleaned your wounds for you, scrubbing them down using water from a nearby pond YOU’D TOLD HIM WATER WAS NOT ENOUGH TO HEAL YOU and the scraps of your old shirt. 

He’s done everything he could NO HE HASN’T but you still refused to wake up. 

“Hey.” He barked out. Silence. 

“HEY.” This time he kicked you. Again, silence. 

He knelt, taking one of your hands in his. He briefly glanced over the withered, blackened fingertips and yellowed, peeling nails, before biting into your cold palm. Blood gushed from the puncture, and he waited intently for you to wake up screaming, but he was still met with silence. 

He stood and dropped your hand, which fell listlessly to the ground, and licked your blood from his lips. It was off, somehow, extremely sour and not at all as warm and sweet as it used to be. 

His hands raked through his hair as he thought to himself. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what a rotten carcass looked like, he had seen them many times out in the woods. But you weren’t dead. You couldn’t be. 

Slowly, he approached you again, and even slower, he lowered his ear to the marred flesh above your heart, ignoring the bit of yellow puss that rubbed off onto his cheek. 

A heartbeat. He could barely feel it, much less hear it, but it was still there. He looked again at your disfigured face, at the deep cuts in the muscles that so closely resembled the raw meat that you used to bring to him. 

He wasn’t stupid. He knew what a creature in its final moments looked like. 

--- 

You had no way of feeling your naked body being wrapped in a dirty threadbare blanket, or the night’s cool air on your face. You couldn’t feel the way it rocked back and forth as it was carried through the forest. You couldn’t feel it being propped up against the wooden balusters of a front porch, either. 

You could, however, hear a voice pulling you back from the darkness that you had been lost in. 

“Alright, you’ve won.” It said. It kept tugging on the fabric around you. Adjusting it. 

“I’ll take your previous deal.” 

When a star is about to die, it receives one final burst of energy before it diminishes completely. Why that was the first thought you had as you mustered up the strength to open your eyes... you could not tell. 

Your vision was blurry, and in your left eye it was almost entirely gone. You didn’t have a way to see how milky and deteriorated it had become. But somehow, you were able to make out a few pairs of red eyes staring at you, and a wide, thin mouth which revealed black fangs when it spoke next. 

“Go, then, to your little human hospital and sort all of this out. And then afterwards – immediately afterwards – you'll come home again. Don’t... don’t you di-” 

His voice caught in his throat, then he huffed in annoyance. 

“Don’t you try to screw me over, okay? I’ll know if you try to get out of this one...!” 

He stood up then, seemingly miles above you, and gave one final warning: 

“Go there and come right back, [Y/N]. Just like you promised.” 

Your eyes began to defocus as you heard him bang loudly on the front door and run away, into the pitch-black forest behind you. The door opened, and you heard the woman’s voice change as she processed the macabre scene before her. 

“Hello? What is...? Oh... oh my God! Kids! Brandon, Kayla, get in your rooms! Get in them, right now! Charlie, I – Charlie, call 911! You- hey... are you alive? ...Listen, we’re going to get you help! We’re calling an ambulance! Just... just stay awake, alright? Just don’t fall asleep...!” 

You held on to her words as much as you could. Deep down, you still felt the animalistic urge to continue living. No, a part of you still wanted to believe that you could get through to the other side of this, as little as you may deserve it. But as your eyelids pulled themselves closed, and as you felt your conciousness begin to slip, you weren’t so sure that you had the strength to hold on anymore... 

THE END.

[tatatatatara]

The fact that Tomoe is a better version of Tatara.

Aogiri Tree is place for violent ghouls and it was ruled by violence. Sure, it did provide food and shelter but its member are treated as disposable pawns by the leader (Tatara)

Meanwhile, Tomoe really made a safe haven for those in needs - the one who can't live together with human but they won't harm human either. It's basically Goat minus the change the world ideal. They just need somewhere to belong.

Moreover, Tatara spent all of his adulthood to revenge his dead brother, even to the point he basically couldn't do anything else or think straight about it. He became enraged just by seeing someone else holding Houji's quinque and eventually he paid for it by having a meaningless death.

Tomoe also wanted revenge for her dead brothers, but she managed to let go of it and even decided to fight alongside Amon - whose quinque is made from her brothers. And she was kinda opened to Takizawa too, considering the fact that he killed the last person she respected and broke her uterus, maybe because he saved her from Rushima.

Anyways, it was clear that Tomoe tried to understand her enemy which helped her let go of her grudge, and ultimately avoided the same fate as Tatara.

Tomoe's not as strong as Tatara, but she tried and learned to overcome her weakness. Tomoe is not as smart as Tatara, but she never losed her cool in front of her enemies. She's a kinder and more thoughtful version of Tatara and I love her for that.

[stalkerofthegods]

Straight to the point Thor offerings etc

Herbs •Oak, mountain ash, hazel, Donnerbesen/Teufelbesen, house-leek/Sempervirum tectorum, hawthorn, houseleek, tormentil, oak

Animals• goats, bulls, Tanngrisnir "teeth barer" and Tanngnjostr "teeth grinder”

Colors •Sky-blue, cloud-white, lightning-gold, and red, purity white. 

Crystal• moss agate, Amethyst, Lapis Lazuli, Sodalite, Turquoise and Sapphire, iron, Thunderstones, fulgurite, thunder egg

Symbols•Hammer, goats, belt, and gloves of strength

Jewelry you can wear in their honor • A hammer, a necklace of his runes.

Alter ideas• Thor’s hammer figures, model goats (ideally pulling a cart), weapons, shield, lightning-bolts, rainwater, garlic, leek, onion, hawthorn, houseleek, tormentil, oak, the runes Thurisaz or Sowelo, rocks, metal, rainwater

Diety of• God of war, fertility, thindrr and lighting and of the people, spiritual healing, sacred groves, protection 

Patron of The dead, rain, thunder, hallowing, spiritual healing, war, protecting, protection, birth, marriage, and death, burial, and cremation ceremonies, weapons and feasting, traveling, land-taking, and the making of oaths between men

Offerings• Mead, beer, goat meat, hearty foods with lots of meat, onions, and garlic, flavored coffee, whiskey, beer, hard cider, meat sandwiches on dark bread with good mustard, bacon, sausage, lunch meat and sources of protein that builds muscle, Donate time to an organization dedicated to protecting children from abuse, do heavy work for someone in need of it, Protect the needy, Escort someone to do something that scares them, and be there as a source of courage and moral support for them, hard wood, Dark chocolate (he said he likes it.), ground ivy

Devotional• working out, helping around the house, helping others and protecting them, Honoring your family and learning your history, keeping your personal space tidy or cleaning it up as an act of devotion, watch a storm from inside, spend time in the rain, put thunder/storm music when meditating or going to sleep, stand in the storm (at a safe place away from trees and metal objects), collect storm water, Write him a letter praising him, compliment him, read his stories from Prose and Poetic Edda, thank him for being the protector of the humankind, Light up a candle of dark blue/red/grey colours, Place your offerings at the base of a tree, Be yourself and honest, live your life honourably and truthfully, Wear a necklace of Mjölnir, Set and maintain your personal boundaries, stand up for yourself and others, give him something that you made, Take care of pregnant people, 

Ephithets•Tor, Ásabragr (Asabrag, Æsir-Lord), Ása-Þórr (Asa-Thor Æsir-Thor), Atli (The Terrible), Björn (Bjorn, Biorn Bear), Einriði (Eindriði, The One who Rides Alone, The One who Rules Alone), Ennilangr (Ennilang, The One with the Wide Forehead), Harðhugaðr (Hardhugadr, Strong Spirit, Powerful Soul, Fierce Ego, Brave Heart), Harðvéurr (Hardveur The Strong Archer), Hlóriði (Hlórriði, The Loud Rider, The Loud Weather-God), Öku-Þor (Oku-Thor, Ukko-Thor, Cart Thor, Driving Thor), Rymr (Rym, Noise), Sönnungr (Sonnung, The True One), Véþormr (Vethorm, Protector of the Shrine), Véuðr (Véuðr, Véoðr, Veud, Veod), Véurr (Veur, Guard of the Shrine, Hallower), Vingþórr (Vingthor, Battle-Thor, Hallower), The Thunderer and many others

Equivalents• Zeus (Greek), Jupiter (Roman), Hercules (Greek), Thonar (worshiped in England)

Signs of them reaching out• sudden signs of their animals, seeing goats, seeing hammers, suddenly drawn to him, all of the sudden interest in fighting 

Number• Thurisaz, Sowelo, nine

Morals• Morally grey, he does murder.

Courting• Sif

Past lovers/crushes• Járnsaxa (joutan), Sif (goddess)

Element• fire, air 

Personality• He’s a big flirt, he likes to be complimented and to compliment you back, He often displays a quick temper and is quick to engage in violence, even if violence may not be necessary, but he is kind, kinder than you would actually expect. 

Home• Asgard

Mortal or immortal • immortal 

Fact•Thor could even bring some things back to life, Thor was invoked at weddings, at births, and at special ceremonies for these abilities to protect and sanctify, his other names are Thorr, Thunor, Thonar, Donar, Donner, Thur, Thunar, or Thunaer.

Curses• tools randomly breaking, arguments with your spouse, you can your spouse fighting, marriage problems 

Blessings• safety at sea and bounty on land, blessing your marriage 

Roots• Indo-European make him generally accepted today as derived from a Proto-Indo-European deity

Friends• The Aseir

Parentage• Odin and Fjorgynn, or Jord, and Sif.

Siblings• Vidar, Baldr, Höðr, Týr, Meili, Váli, Bragi, Hodr

Pet• Tanngrisnir "teeth barer" and Tanngnjostr "teeth grinder (two goats that reincarnate every time they're eaten, and pulls a Thor's chariot)

Children •Móði, and Thrudr (Strength). He was also the father of three sons, Modi (Courage) and Magni (Strength), and his son Ull

Appearance in astral or gen• Thor is a huge, good-hearted, rough-hewn, red-haired and -bearded man with fiery eyes.

Festivals • Þorrinn, pronounced “Thorrinn” in English

Day • Thursday

Place• in sacred groves, including the one near Dublin.

Status• Norse deity in the asier, protecting Asgard 

Hates• Jörmungand (they kill each other), snakes.

His Tarot cards• Chariot

Scents/Inscene • Pine, Cinnamon, Musk, Nutmeg and Sage

Prayers• 

Sif & Thor 

I offer this prayer to Thor and to the Goddess Sif. Hail to You, Holy Ones. Hail to You, Protectors of Midgard, Hail to You, Son of Odin and Hail to You, His gleaming Bride. You hallow and drive out all pollution. You are mighty. There is no malignant force that You cannot banish. There is no threat, You cannot overcome. You are magnificent and Your grace protects me in the face of evil. Mighty Thor, wise, compassionate Friend of humanity, look upon us and wield Your hammer for our protection. Gracious Sif, You Whose gentle touch causes the grain to grow, please nourish us, restore us, and grant us the fortitude to walk in alignment with the Holy Powers always. Through Your blessings, may we grow strong in faith. through Your blessings may we grow strong in devotion. Through Your blessings, may we always resist impiety, may we be nourished as the grain is nourished under Your caring hands. In times of peril, come to our aid, I pray. In times of desperation, I place myself under Your care.nHail Thor, Son of Odin. Hail Sif, His Gracious Bride.

To Thor 

Son of Strength. I ask you to grant me that strength. That I may lift the weight of the day. Defender of Midgard. Grant me your skill in battle. That I may protect my family, my land and my kin. Bringer of Rain and Thunder. Grant me the ability to wash the weariness and pain of my daily work. That I may strike my next task like the blows from Mjolnir.  Son of Odin, Hammer Wielder, Giant Killer and Guardian of Man. I ask that you make me like the sturdy oak. That I do not break from the blows of misfortune. That I may not be crushed by the powerful. That I may be resilient and mighty like your own arm. That I may be brave to face the evil of this world. Hail Thor!

Links/websites/sources •

http://www.northernpaganism.org/shrines/thor/offerings.htmlhttps://www.reddit.com/r/pagan/comments/v3qn1e/offerings_to_thor/https://www.tumblr.com/freyjasdottirr/656705772435193856/how-to-worship-thor-for-beginners https://occult-world.com/thor/https://aminoapps.com/c/pagans-witches/page/blog/thor/7eop_a5jCPurvZk2W3QXxP55Yaen6YJzQZ taking-thymehttps://kids.britannica.com/students/article/Thor/313835#:~:text=Thor's%20wife%20was%20Sif%2C%20a,stepfather%20of%20Sif's%20son%20Ull.https://norse-mythology.org/symbols/thors-hammer/https://www.reddit.com/r/heathenry/comments/j30vk6/offering_prayer_to_thor/Charming of the Plough Prayer to Thor and Sif | Gangleri's Grove

@aretemisapollo

There you go, have a good thorsday

(it's funnier on Thursday)