#olive oil in my veins :

[semisentient-entity]

Another acapella, this time in Greek! I definitely had fun singing this. Although my accent and pronunciation isn't the best, I think I did pretty well. I'd like to practice my Greek more, so I might do some more covers in Greek.

~~

Link to English translation: https://youtu.be/HOfdHTFO9l4

(Greek Lyrics and Taglist under the cut)

Στα χρώματα του φεγγαριού

ντύθηκες απόψε

και η νύχτα θα ζηλέψει από σένα

Το βράδυ αυτό είναι σταθμός

το παρελθόν σου διώξε

εσύ κι εγώ να γίνουμε ένα

Θέλω να μεθύσω από τα φιλιά σου

και να ξενυχτήσω μες την αγκαλιά σου

Θέλω να καω από τον έρωτα σου αστέρι μου

Άσε να χαιδέψω λίγο τα μαλλιά σου

και να ταξιδέψω μέσα στην καρδιά σου

Πόσο αγαπώ το κάθε τι κοντά σου

νυχτέρι μου, αστέρι μου

Στα αρώματα του γιασεμιού

μοσχοβολάς γλυκιά μου

και ο έρωτας ταξίδι θα σε πάει

Η νύχτα αυτή είναι γιορτή

απόψε είσαι δικιά μου

και ασε το φεγγάρι να κοιτάει

Θέλω να μεθύσω από τα φιλιά σου

και να ξενυχτήσω μες την αγκαλιά σου

Θέλω να καω από τον έρωτα σου αστέρι μου

Άσε να χαιδέψω λίγο τα μαλλιά σου

και να ταξιδέψω μέσα στην καρδιά σου

Πόσο αγαπώ το κάθε τι κοντά σου νυχτέρι μου, αστέρι μου

~~

(Taglist)

@abluehappyface @possibly-eli @the-cinnamon-snail @pinelo-hearts @katherann227

@bloodiedbyers @lysergidedaydreams

EDIT: Mispelled the title of the song whoops

[chapel-of-rizztual]

Oh no im back like a house mouse that nibbles your cereal boxes that you think you caught but never really will :]

(Begging for prompt #59 part 2, Mountain rocks Phantoms shit; electric boogaloo)

Seeing as all of two people asked for a part 2 for the Mountain rut ficlet, a part 2 had been delivered!

Phantom whimpers and smirks at him. “That a promise?”  He’s pushed into the kitchen counter chest first, the hand on his hair forces his head down so his cheek is pressed against the cold marble. His sweatpants are down by his ankles before even realises it and Mountain is leaning over him, his body fully covering his.

“No.” Mountain growls into his ear, licking along the shell. “That was a threat.”

Phantom moans, his back arching, his tail coming up to rest high over his hip. The smell of Mountain’s rut was making his head spin already, the need to submit and be bred and be good was crawling in his veins. Mountain kicks Phantom’s legs apart, immediately grinding his cock into the cleft of his ass. “Submitting to me already? Aren’t you a good boy.”

Phantom moans again, pushing his hips back into Mountain, his tail hiking itself up even higher.

The hand in his disappears and he feels two sets of hands on either side his hips, pulling his ass up. His ass get pulled up so high he had to stand on the very tips of his toes, his feet barely touching the floor.

He lets out a strangled sound, feeling breathless already. “I-Mount, I can’t-“

He’s cut off my Mountain snarling at him and biting the back of his neck.

“Shut up.” He growls into his ear again. “I don't need to you to speak, I just need you to let me do what I want to you.” Phantom let’s out a cry, Turing his head to allow Mountain’s fangs to graze over his scent glad just like before. “Good boy.”

Phantom moans out feeling himself slump against the counter.

Mountain ruts the head of his cock against Phantom's hole and Phantom lets out a panicked squeak thinking for a second that Mountain is about to force his cock inside him dry. He tries to wiggle away from him but Mountain’s grip on his hips tightens with a low growl. “Stop moving. You’re meant to be good and let me use you.”

“Mount-I- please, lube, you need lube.” Phantom pants against the counter.

Mountain growls again and mutters something Phantom can’t hear properly but he stands up from behind Phantom. “Stay.” He barks at him as he rummages through the kitchen cupboards for something that could be used as lube.

Phantom doesn’t move a muscle as he listens to Mountain growl and slam doors. There’s a bottle of something slammed down next to Phantom and Mountain is leaning back over him, covering os back fully with his body. “That better be good enough for you, princess, because that’s all you’re getting.”

The bottle of something turns out to be olive oil but before Phantom can say anything about it theres two slicked fingers rubbing over his hole before pushing their way into him. He moans, unable to help himself as Mountain hits his prostate immediately. Mountain doesn’t waste any time, only thrusting his fingers into him for a couple of beats before he’s pulling back and tapping the head of his cock against Phantom’s hole. “You better have been serious when you said I can hurt you.” Mountain groans into his ear as he pushes himself in in one long thrust. Phantom screams at the feeling of Mountain breaching his asshole, the burning stretch making him screw his eyes and his legs kick. He feels like the breath gets knock out from his lungs as Mountain just keeps going, keeps pushing into him, until finally- finally- he bottoms out, his knot bumping against Phantom.

“Ah-shit, fuck-mount-oh.” Phantom’s hands scrape down the marble surface, his claws digging in and scratching deep lines. “So big, fuck Mount- didn’t-didn’t think you’d feel like this.”

Mountain licks at the side of his neck, right over his scent gland and rolls his hips in small circles, pushing his knot harder against Phantom’s entrance. “What’s wrong, little bird? Overestimated yourself a little?”

“No, no-fuck- feels so good, hurts so good.” Phantom feels like he can hardly breathe, his cheeks feel wet already but he doesn’t remember when he started crying.

Mountain growls in response, grabbing at Phantom’s hips even harder, pulling him up even more. “Satan, you’re such a whore, I would have fucked you sooner if I knew you’d be like this.” Mountain pulls all the way and slams himself all the way back in. Phantom screams again, his wet eyes rolling back into his skull. Mountain grabs the base of his tail, pulling his ass up even higher. Phantom squeaks as his feet get lifted off the ground and hand limply off the counter. He kicks his legs as Mountain pulls all the way out again and slams himself back in, making the earth ghoul snarl at him and bite the back of his neck. “Stop fucking moving. Stay still and let me use you.”

Phantom falls limp against the counter as Mountain starts to thrust into him with a speed that has him crying out again, more tears streaming down his cheeks. “That’s it, good boy.” Mountain bites the back of his neck again pinning him Down, his other hand keeping a firm grasp on the base of his tail. Phantom’s legs swing with each powerful thrust of Mountain and he lets out little ‘uh, uh, uh’s’, unable to make any other sound as he feels like Mountain is truly ruining him. Mountain’s tail wraps around his thigh and pulls his legs further apart and he growls as he’s able to thrust deeper into Phantom. His knot gets bumped against Phantom's hole and he howls out, his head rolling to the side so he can see Mountain from the corner of his eyes. “M-mountain!” He gasps open mouthed. Mountain release his jaw from Phantom’s neck, but his other hand comes up and pressing against the back of his neck to hold him into place. “Yeah? Can you feel that?” He’s out of breath, his thrusts hard and unrelenting. “Can you feel my knot?” “Yes, shit, Mountain please. Need it, please knot me.” He cried out, feeling Mountain’s cock twitch inside him. “Gunna lock you on it.” Mountain’s hips snap forward particularly hard. “Gunna fill you up, fucking breed you.” Phantom sobs, suddenly feeling overwhelmed as he tires to rut his very hard cock onto surface below him. “You’ll look so pretty filled with my kits, nice and round and fat.” Mountain’s thrusts slow to a grind feeling his knot throb as it expands even more. “Maybe I’ll keep you knocked up, keep you full of my kits so everyone knows who you belong too.” Phantom whimpers, feeling his thighs start to shake as he feels his orgasm building in the pit of his belly. “Please- oh fuck- Mount, please knot me. I’m yours, own me.”

“Gunna bend you over every surface in this den, keep you full of me until it sticks.” Mountain licks up the shell of his ear, his knot throbbing just on the cusp of popping. “You’re mine, little bird. I’ll show you off to the others, show them how well you take me, how you let me breed you.” Phantom cums completely unexpectedly, his cock trapped between his belly and cold hard surface of kitchen counter, kicks and spurts coating his belly and making a sticky puddle on the surface. Behind him Mountain all but howls, throwing his head back as he jackhammers into him. Phantom cries out, feeling sensitive from having just cum, but it only last a second before Mountain is gasping out and grabbing at his hips so hard he’s leaving scratch marks. “Fuck, fuck, fucking take it, take my knot.” Mountain’s knot pops into Phantom as he cums hotly into him with a long groan. If Phantom thought he was full before he was wrong. He feels Mountain’s knot expand fully and lock inside him and for a brief second he wonders if it’ll actually fit. Mountain groans again, resting his forehead on Phantom’s back. “That’s it, so good for me, taking it so well. My good boy.” Phantom moans, feeling Mountain still cuming inside him. “I-fuck, Mountain.” “Satan, you feel so good, so perfect, Phant.” Mountain kisses him between his shoulder blades. Phantom looks back at Mountain as best he can from his position. “I hope you weren’t lying when you said you’d bend me over every surface on here because you are so, so, Fucking me like that again.” Mountain let’s out a small laugh. “You’re insufferable, you know that.” Phantom grins at him, wiggling his ass on Mountain’s knot making them both hiss. “Don’t think you’ve managed to knock me up yet. Mountain growls one again, nipping at the back of Phantom’s neck. “Don’t tease me, little bird. I’m just getting started with you.”

[sunspearesque]

Forbidden Fervor

Summary: Douse the fervor raging within, bestow upon me the forbidden release, frigid and honed, dripping with crimson... Let it carve through my dread as relentlessly as time erodes the vigor from an aged soul.

A/N: yo, idk what happened here.. i saw the inspo and we dove headfirst. i’m so very sure old man nasty spirit possessed me or something cause idk how i wrote this.. but yeah enjoy the filth i guess? lmfao.. also, i did use some of the famous lines from the show/books—specifically the scene where he stabby stab the pink little man at the brothel just because :3 the rest tho are the whispers of my little brain hehehoho

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Rating: E (18+ only)

Content: established relationship (marriage); canonical racism (against dornish people); threat of assault (nothing happens); we hate Lannisters in this house; protective!Oberyn; depiction of injury/attack; use of weapons (dagger); Wet and Wanting™️; primal urges, kinda sorta; a hint of possessive!Oberyn; inappropriate use of weapons; dagger riding (don’t look at me); unprotected p in v; creampie (the man has a breeding kink what can i say?); quoting mr. darcy

WC: 1.9K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

A grand retinue accompanied Prince Oberyn Martell and his wife Nala on their journey north to attend the wedding of Lord Stark's eldest son. The journey was replete with delightful surprises and, regrettably, some less pleasant ones. One of their travel days found them lodged in an inn nestled amidst the forested lands of the North. The weather was cold and crisp, the air dry and biting, causing Oberyn to grumble about the layers of clothing encasing his form. Nala found his discomfort amusing—this man is averse to decency.

As they were enjoying their meal in the inn, a trio of golden-haired men strode in, their disdainful expressions evident as they cast disparaging glances at the other patrons. Murmuring curses under their breath, they took a seat at a nearby table, much to the discomfort of those around them. Nala sensed the tension in the air, recognizing the unmistakable look of Lannisters. She knew all too well her husband's scorn for them. Desperate to diffuse the situation, she attempted to divert his attention away from them, whispering softly, “My love, look at me,” noticing his gaze fixed upon them with obvious contempt.

The Lannister men, oblivious to her attempt to diffuse the tension, noticed her caress on his thigh and exchanged mocking remarks amongst themselves. “Why does such beauty consort with that Dornish bastard?” one of them jeered, his laughter echoing loudly in the room. “This whore should try to get with a real cock... a Lannister one,” another added, patting his bulge and leering at her. “Just give him a shaved goat and an olive oil bottle and be done with it,” the third chimed in before all three joined in uproarious laughter.

Nala could feel the blood charring beneath her skin, her heart pounding in her ribcage as she dreaded her husband's reaction to the insults. She observed the vein running through his neck pulsating beneath his golden skin, indicating the rage boiling within him. Despite his efforts to conceal it, a smirk tinged with bitterness adorned his face, masking the fury that simmered beneath the surface.

With graceful poise, he rose from his seat, his hand drifting toward the dagger secured at his hip—a weapon fashioned in the likeness of two intertwined vipers; its smooth, golden surface gleaming in the dim light of the inn. Slowly and deliberately, he approached their table, his gaze locking onto the perpetrator who had called his wife a whore.

Oberyn's tongue clicked disapprovingly as he addressed the men, his tone dripping with mockery. “Do you know why the world despises a Lannister?” he quipped, his words laden with scorn. “You believe your wealth, your lions, and your gilded pride make you superior to all.” The Lannister men exchanged smug glances, sharing a condescending chuckle amongst themselves. One of the trio stealthily reached for his sword, attempting to draw it from its sheath without detection. Yet, unbeknownst to them, he noticed—he always does.

“May I tell you a secret?” Oberyn continued, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “You're not a golden lion. You're just a pink little man who is far too slow on the draw.” With a swift motion, he unsheathed his dagger and plunged it into the hand of the man who had insulted his wife, the same hand he had earlier used to pat his cock. Piercing between the carpals of that hand, it now lay on the table. The man let out a guttural wail, paralyzed in his place as the dagger twisted amidst flesh, bone, and veins.

“When I pull my blade, your friend starts bleeding,” Oberyn stated calmly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Quite a lot, I'm afraid. So many veins in the wrist.” He observed the man writhing in pain before turning his gaze back to the other Lannister. “He'll live if you get him help straight away,” he added mockingly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Decisions,” Oberyn remarked, his head tilting slightly as his gaze shifted to the bleeding man again. “And when you speak of a dornish princess—my wife—you will address her as ‘your highness,’” he continued, his tone carrying a dangerous edge. “Lest you wish for me to sever your tongue at its root.”

He withdrew his dagger from the man’s hand, the Dornish soldiers surrounding him, swords and spears at the ready. One of them addressed him, “What shall we do with them, Your Highness?”

“Nothing,” Oberyn replied calmly, wiping the blood from his dagger with the end of his shawl. "I reckon they've learned a lesson or two about manners from the Dornish, and I expect they'll find their own way out.” With a dismissive wave, he turned to walk toward Nala, who stood frozen with fear, wide-eyed, and breathing shakily.

“Apologies, my love,” he said tenderly, encircling his arms around her waist and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Nestling her gently in his embrace, as though she were the most delicate of blossoms.

Ever the viper; deadly, dangerous, unpredictable... and mine.

A familiar primal heat stirred within her, much to her chagrin as she cursed herself for succumbing to it.

Gods be good, this shouldn’t ignite a fire within me and make me crave him and the dagger he wielded in my defense.

She kissed him with fervor, her hands caressing his face, yearning to melt into him and merge with him completely. As they parted, both breathless, he chuckled softly. "I see you enjoyed that, princess?" he whispered, prompting a blush to bloom across her cheeks—was I too obvious?

He pulled out the chair for her to resume her place at the table, a gallant gesture amidst the chaos caused by the departing Lannisters, who left mutilated and humiliated.

Throughout the meal, Nala’s gaze remained fixed on Oberyn, her desire for him evident in her unwavering stare. Yet, her eyes also flickered occasionally to the dagger sheathed at his side, her longing palpable. Catching her subtle glances, Oberyn couldn't help but tease her with a smirk. “My love, you are eyeing that dagger as if it were your lover,” he quipped, his tone playful and suggestive.

She regarded him incredulously, her expression stern, before a laugh escaped her lips, unable to resist his irreverence. “What? People engage in all forms of pleasure,” he remarked casually, a hint of mischief in his tone. “I’d be curious to witness you attempting one of these forms, my love,” he added, raising an eyebrow, his smirk unyielding—the infamous smirk that both infuriated and delighted her.

“How in the Seven Hells would I engage in such forms, Oberyn?" she retorted, her tone a blend of amusement and exasperation, unsure whether to marvel at his wit or roll her eyes at his audacity.

He chuckled, unfazed, and resumed his meal, prompting her to shake her head in bemusement before following suit, both indulging in their food as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

—

As they retired to their chambers, the earlier unpleasant encounter and their playful banter lingered in her mind, unable to shake off the eagerness she felt for him.

Not surprisingly, he seemed equally consumed by their earlier conversation. Upon entering their room and securing the door behind them, he immediately closed the distance between them, kissing her hungrily. His hands roamed over her body, gripping her ass firmly, igniting a fire within her and causing desire to pool between her thighs.

Breaking away from their passionate embrace, he strode to the bed and plunged his dagger into the mattress, securing it firmly in place. Only the gleaming, serpent-shaped handle remained visible.

"What... what are you doing?" Nala inquired, perplexed by his actions.

“I long to see you mount it," he declared simply, taking a seat on the wooden chair facing the bed.

"Mount it how?" she questioned, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"Like you mount my cock every night," he replied with a crooked smile.

She stood in stunned silence, her thoughts swirling with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. The unexpected request from her husband both startled her and ignited a flicker of excitement deep within her. It was not uncommon for him to embrace unconventional pleasures, to seek out new experiences in their intimate moments together.

She offered a gentle smile before beginning to shed her dress, letting the fabric cascade down her form like water, revealing the delicate curve of her clavicle, the supple swell of her breasts and their hardened peaks, her glistening cunt between her thighs, before finally pooling at her feet.

His gaze lingered upon her with a hunger that seemed to devour her, as if he yearned to possess this beauty solely for himself, to adore… to pleasure and treasure... wholly and entirely his.

She moved with grace toward the bed, settling and facing him, her eyes fixed on the dagger embedded in the mattress before her. It was the very same dagger he wielded to protect her, a silent warning to any who dared to show her disrespect.

She lifted herself slightly before sinking into it, feeling the cold metal filling her searing flesh. Her eyes closed, lips parting as she relished the peculiar sensation, the ridges of the handle gliding against her inner walls, deliciously. It was unfamiliar yet pleasing, strangely fitting. She quickened her pace, with each rise and fall, soft moans escaping her lips and filling the room. Her breasts bounced with each movement, a testament to the pleasure coursing through her.

Oberyn watched her with an insatiable hunger, enchanted by her allure. She accepted his offerings eagerly, with devotion, her yearning unwavering as she sought to be filled with everything that was his. Whether his fingers, his cock, or even his dagger, she embraced it all, an extension of him in every way.

He felt the bulge in his breeches grow bigger, his cock throbbing painfully with desire, yearning to pierce that sweet cunt of hers, to fill her with his seed over and over again til it takes. He longed to hear her soft moans as he pushed her to the brink of bliss, feeling her warm, wet, and wanting in his embrace.

He freed his hardened cock, his hand beginning to caress it with slow, deliberate strokes, as she mounted his dagger with unyielding ardor, deriving her pleasure from it. Her gaze met his, lethal and luring, eyes that could have felled him had she not been his.

Her movements became erratic, her moans blending into strained whimpers. She slipped her hand down frantically to circle her soaked clit, driving her closer to her release. Collapsing onto the mattress, she murmured his name, her thighs trembling with pleasure.

Rising from his seat, he approached her, cradled her languid form, and moved her to the center of the bed, laying her on her back. He spread her thighs apart, watching her clenching sex seep her release, delicately. He nudged the head of his cock to her entrance. Her cunt sucked him in effortlessly, eliciting a soft whine from her lips as he filled her. He laid atop her, his weight offering a comforting warmth she had always longed for, drawing her closer to him before thrusting into her fervently.

Mine, my love, mine… all fucking mine, the Others take them all.

He nipped at the tender flesh of her breasts and shoulder, his warmth flooding her as he spilled his cum deep within her, his breath ragged.

After their heaving chests stilled, she gently raised her hand to brush the damp curls from his forehead, meeting his gaze. “I love you most ardently, my fierce viper,” she whispered.

[ome-magical-ramblings]

Anointing, Mystery of χ, and Psalm 23 / Chaldean Oracle Fragment 95

This character (sc. the letter Chi χ ), which belongs to the essence of souls, “…is placed in the heart ’ 5

as the property of every soul…these…are (the doctrines) of the theurgists and gods when they are describing unknown things (Chaldean Oracle Fragment 95)

Now I can't exactly say the procedure for unlocking the secrets of this verse from the Chaldean Oracle, but I can hint to it and point out by saying "hey maybe this and that might work". I promise to reach the where I can say that "this is practical" then stop just before I tell you the exact way to do it.

According to Plato {Tim., 36 b-d), the World Soul had the shape of a Chi (X), the axes of which were bent and joined together to form semi-circles. In Chaldean thought—since particular souls were patterned on the World Soul—they, too, had the same configuration. In the context of Proclus knowledge of this “character" had magical significance, permitting the theurgist to invoke the souls of certain heroes (e.g., Heracles, Pentheus) and even Plato himself Ruth Majercik's Chaldean Oracle

I will point out that our goal is about the letter χ and the anima mundi is in the shape of it! the word χρῑ́ω • (khrī́ō) is anointing and christ is literally χρῑστός (khrīstós) and ἔλαιον • (élaion) is Olive oil. Take Psalm 23:

You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

The Mystery is there. It's not about the exact procedure but the principle which lead to the result. You can do it in a different way than I did it and that's why I am not explicitly mentioning a method. The aim of the anointment is to put you at the center of that world soul and not something that will suddenly happen all at once but a slowly bringing you to the center within you.

Another aspect of the cross-shaped χ is that once you're in that center then that mean your own soul would at that center of spiritual authority, it can be a mere second or 5 seconds but in that period you can with full force bring the spirit of heroes like Heracles or even Hermes Trismegistus. Focus on that relation, it's not about becoming a king by virtue of hereditary but by virtue of the character's knowledge itself. The other more passive aspect of χ is just as you can bring the souls of great people to you, you can also look into the soul of other people with it and it is something I don't know how to describe except in most direct way is that you can see into people's soul, their desires and intentions with it. After a month of working with the character "χ" I can testify it have a great virtue and power by itself and the mysteries of it is in similar veins of anointment, Christ, and a solar initiation. Is there more to it? Definitely, but the more I would ramble about it the more I would lean toward mistakes, If you settle on this character and meditate on it's mysteries I am sure you will be able to see how it's power unfold and the door of mysteries open for you :)

[sunfloo-wers]

[crack writing thing I got pulled into, is a joke]

It was only for a second and it's gone now (have been peeking around for like 15 minutes for this express purpose) but I swear every ad Tumblr showed me was.

just.

olive oil.

??????????????? I am confusion ??????????????

why

why was it here

why did it leave

is it going to return

how do we prepare for the olive oil

how

my trebuchet can't hit olive oil

the person I stole it from was very expressive about that, it cannot hit olive oil

what do I do

what can I do

is there anything to be done for this

is there anything

is there any hope

anything

it will swallow us all, that I promise you

the inky void will return

it had a taste and I know deep in my veins that it will be back

it was testing the waters

it saw me saw it and fled

but I know it'll be back

I know

I know

I know

*is dragged off the stage*

anyways... uhhhhh don't know what that's about, hmmmmm...

I am serious about seeing the olive oil ads, the rest of it turned into a bit of a writing skit about fucking olive oil of all things but here's two that I managed to get screenshots of:

Just chugging olive oil over there, and it was a fairly fun prompt in all honesty hahaha

welp

I'm still confused about the olive oil ads, this didn't fix that

[georgieluz]

HBOWAR OC MASTERLIST

OLIVER HARDWICK

intelligence officer, easy company (band of brothers)

ship: lewis nixon | tag: #oc: oliver hardwick

"you'll never fumigate the demons, no matter how much you smoke"

new yorker. former literature and latin student at university. mischievous. wealthy. playful. rakish, maybe even roguish, some might say, in a pretty boy kind of way. think: old money with a rebellious streak. massive ballrooms contrasted with secret parties in tiny apartments. flowing champagne. screaming drunkenly from the deck of a yacht. rage rage and more rage, so much rage. the subtle glare of disapproval from a calculating parent. a disdain for authority and taking orders. winter scarves in every colour, but especially red. kissing older men. dancing until you can't remember your family name. the simultaneous fascination and disappointment your friends and peers feel toward you. running away as a child and nobody even noticing you're gone. picking oranges in the mediterranean. freezing cold new york winters. spinning around in the rain. being too smart for your own good. self-sabotage. self-loathing. self-destruction.

playlist: tell me i'm an angel

TOMMY MONET

private first class, easy company (band of brothers)

ship: joseph liebgott | tag: #oc: tommy monet

"the silence that you're hearing is turning into a deafening, painful, shameful roar"

bostoner. from the wrong side of the tracks. barely got a high school diploma. former teenage nuisance. poet. fuelled by coffee and homeric similes. friends with every cat in the neighbourhood. talks to his cat badger more than other people. think: scrappy. argumentative. observant. smart but wishes he wasn't. hot black coffee running through his veins. flannel shirts. a backpack full of books. a hardshell exterior and deep, deep repression. running races down the railroad tracks until you're completely breathless. smoking because you don't know what else to do with your hands. irritable, but usually with a smile and a hefty dose of sarcasm. fuck the elite. no one can hurt me if they can't get near me. insecurities? what are those? who needs a father anyway.

playlist: let down and hanging around

CHARLIE SCOTT

private first class, how company (the pacific)

ship: bill "hoosier" smith | tag: #oc: charlie scott

"come ease my slumber, sink me into sleep"

mornings spent next to the river. cigarettes for breakfast. brushing the sand out of dark hair. journals filled to the brim. training as a car mechanic. hands coated with oil. overalls tied around your waist. a sarcasm-filled whisper in your ear. a hand gripping yours through the barrage of bombs every night. eyes searching for you as you cross every battlefield. dramatic readings of your stream of conscious poetry until something hits. adopting the dog that you found in the middle of battle. missing the diners you always claimed to hate. wanting nothing more than to run back to the mountains you hiked growing up. realising you never want to visit a beach again. longing for the quiet peacefulness of a lake.

playlist: i once warmed my hands

RHYS LLEWYD

corpsman, king company (the pacific)

ship: eddie jones | tag: #oc: rhys llewyd

"torn down, full of aching, somehow our youth will take the blame"

welsh born, new hampshire raised. gentle hands, sharp eyes. soft-spoken. welsh-lilted american accent. the messiest bedhead you'll ever see. enjoys watching people mispronounce his surname. touch-starved for something more than bleeding guts and bullet wounds. sage green and lavender. realising you never wanted to study medicine in the first place. cloudgazing. comic books shoved into pockets. an impeccable dancer who will never show it. can't handle his alcohol but drinks anyway. misses trees, and grass, and greenery. hands touching beneath the library table. a pile of books next to your bed. the scent of sugar and honey contrasted with the blood dripping from your hands.

playlist: fade me away

MAX JACOBS

platoon scout sniper, bravo company (gen kill)

ship: brad colbert | tag: #oc: max jacobs

"there's nothing wrong with me, this is how i'm supposed to be, in a land of make believe, that don't believe in me"

deadly aim, with a smile to match. skate parks and 7-11s. worn out chuck taylors. suburban fuckery. sneaking out of your bedroom window at 2am. driving out as far as you can because you've got nothing better to do. desperately wanting to escape your town at any cost. sony walkman cd player attached to your belt at all times. fuck the system (but you're in the system). laughing in the face of everything and anything. empty red bull cans littered across the room. kissing boys in empty car parks. getting your fists bloody when the homophobes arrive. taking on the world with nothing but bruised knees and a stick of gum.

playlist: and when we go, don't blame us

MATTHEW "MATTY" CARTER

corporal, bravo company (gen kill)

ship: ray person | tag: #oc: matty carter

"tracksuits and red wine, movies for two, we'll take off our phones, and we'll turn off our shoes. we'll play nintendo, though i always lose, 'cause you watch the tv, while i'm watching you. dumb conversation, we lose track of time, have i told you lately, i'm grateful you're mine. there's nothing like doing nothing with you"

missouri summers. friends who fall somewhere between platonic and something more. pizza nights. staying up until 4am playing uno. laughing so hard your ribs hurt. realising you're a little bit in love with your best friend. following him to the marine corps. losing far too much money playing pool. camping in the rain. smiles so wide. watching the lost boys so many times you can quote every line. sharing hoodies. the colour orange. instant messaging into the early hours. the sunrise laughing as you fall asleep. promises of running away together. fingers in soft wavy hair. ice cold lemonade. the ghost of a confession.

playlist: do you think of me?

CALEB DAWSON

architecture student, hacker, archer (band of brothers zombie au)

ship: ron speirs | tag: #oc: caleb dawson

"yes, it's you i welcome death with, as the world caves in"

sketching buildings from the window of hotel rooms. mugs of cold coffee left on every surface. counting to ten before you open a door. endless recurve vs compound pettiness. the fucking audacity of life. talking with your hands. sarcasm as a first language. stubborn and unyielding, but fiercely protective. clinging to a pencil and paper as a lifeline. realising it's easier to push your buttons than you thought. jokes. lots of jokes. witty one liners. deep, deep inner conflict. bitterness coating your tongue with every word. being suspicious of newcomers but bound to your own sense of loyalties and vulnerabilities. trying desperately to hide every aspect of your gentleness, but feeling it leak through in every moment. being ashamed of your dreams and ambitions. feeling the cracks break open every day, but bottling it up all the same. waiting alone in hotel rooms wondering if your dad will come back for you this time. being taught to hack at twelve years old. finally escaping the only life you've ever really known only to find that a virus outbreak has mutated and changed the world forever. unravelling dreams.

playlist: one wink at a time

ARCHIE SULLIVAN

RAF pilot / lancaster bomber (masters of the air)

ship: bucky egan | tag: #oc: archie sullivan

"wild lovers never get the blues"

flying too close to the moon, "you look pretty in blue", piles of unopened letters thrown in a corner, easy laughs, easier smiles, falling asleep on the wing of your plane, cycling to the pub with your best friend in the pouring rain, turning annoyance into endearment, a pint and a ginger beer please, escaping to the beaches of east anglia on a weekend pass, puppy dog eyes the size of jupiter, pettiness, so so much pettiness, challenging just about everyone you've ever met, thinking you might just be the greatest darts player in all of england, a good ol' dose of the great british repression, yet accidentally flirting with almost everyone you meet, running so far away from home that you ended up in the clouds

playlist: to the top of the big night sky

if you want to read about the ocs from my hbo war f1 au please head over to this post. the ocs there are all platonic ocs, but have a lot of presence in the world and narrative, and if you'd like to see my ocs for top gun, then you can find them on my sideblog here

[belog-grada-crna-princeza]

Whisper in your ear, as I take you to my world, that you can still come down. You can still let go of my hand, forget this place. High on risk, your eyes never left mine, your cherry lips never uttered words of doubt. You never wavered for a moment and now I know it, baby. You would go into fire for me, but I will never make you hurt, only hurt the ones who try to harm you. This intensity that you feel rushing through your veins, burning your skin is only power, a drug like no other, and we're (the only ones) crazy enough to take it. Before you, no one ever survived it, no one ever wanted to go the whole way. The ride makes them dizzy; but me and you, it makes us alive. Hold onto each other as we go higher and higher, it's freedom, it's all ours. Your breathing steady, your heart never skips a beat. They only burn out because they burn, we just breathe this, we just live like this. You are another one, for sure. The only other one. 

//

Slowly... There was never really slowly. It wasn't rushed, it's not our style. You like to be your own and you like that about me too. I just kind of looked at you and knew that whatever I do, you will match, even surpass. I felt safe because you were so.. I don't know how to describe it, you enter a room and you shift the energy. You said you liked the feeling that it didn't work on me, it was just an exchange. I thought the same thing about you. When I watch you walking towards me on the street, everything is blurred around you, only you I see clearly. In your eyes I saw a fireplace and it made me want to come closer, it made me crave their warmth. You'd never make me feel like I should leave, so I would stay. Maybe we both feared sometimes our time would run out, so we took the stupid clock off the wall and crushed it. After that, time didn't exist for us. Once you half-woke from a dream, you were covered in sweat and called us by different names. Tomorrow you said you travelled to one of our previous lives, you were married to some man and you saw me from an olive garden passing in a chariot. You said I was royalty, married to a blue blooded woman that I didn't love. You said I wanted to give it all up to be with you, but you wouldn't let me. After that story, I ordered the most expensive olive oil I could find online and when it arrived we lathered each other in it, then held each other and cried for a long time.

//

Every day that you're here, I touch immortality. I used to oscillate between wanting death and fearing it, but because of you it became past tense. I died the day I met you and every day with you is the afterlife. Or was I dead before and with meeting you I came alive? All I know is this love transcended the material forms in which we exist. When we are apart sometimes I will take a blank piece of paper and just scribble down something to tell you. Then you will run into my arms at the end of the day and the first words to pass your lips would be those words I wrote, proving once again what I never really doubted for a second: you and I, we're from the same star.

-Katarina

[fran--0]

Oh nonono, you don't understand, i am gay AND european: abba flows in my veins as a rainbow and as olive oil

[magnoliamyrrh]

idk call me crazy but i grew up w my grandma explaining to me how u should put teas and fruits on ur face and what natural things to use for ur skin cuz thats what she was taught as a girl growing up in a village and uh in the same vein. id rather use as much natural stuff and stuff i already have as i can. like. yea ill use green tea on my face. yea ill wash my hair with apple vinegar. yes i think rubbing citrus on ur face is good. yes ill put olive oil and egg in my face and egg white on my skin before i spend idk how much money on idk how many products 🤷‍♀️

[mothmage]

excerpts from my semi-niche devil's minion chase years fic below because the Copley dinner scene is SO underused and makes me craaaazzyyyyyy

She was breathless, her chest heaving, and Armand delighted in it. Oh, this was so much better than she’d expected. When the girl began eating, lustily, furiously – a little fish, a little beef, a little veal, a little sweetbreads, a little cheese, a little everything, put it all together, what did she care, Armand threw her head back in laughter, gleeful laughter.

Dani stared at her, startled. So seductive, she thought, her mind growing careless. She reached for the wine, one of the many glasses scattered between the dishes, and drank it all in one swig. Another, then another. Armand just watched, fascinated.

“Don’t you want to taste it?” Armand asked, tilting her head.

Dani’s mouth hung slightly ajar. I do, she thought. God, do I ever.

Armand’s smile widened. She picked up another glass, swirled it, then offered it to the girl. “Slowly, Danielle. This is an expensive wine, much older than you. You wouldn’t want to waste it, guzzle it like water.”

“Dani,” she said, absently. Her eyes were glued to Armand’s. “It’s Dani.”

“Dani,” Armand corrected, indulgently. She relished in the response it evoked, the shiver down her spine as real as the warmth in her chest from the wine. She shook the glass a little, reminding her to take it.

The girl reached out, slowly, then snatched the glass away when their fingers touched. So cold.

[...]

Armand clicked her tongue. She arched a brow, when Dani’s eyes met hers. “Taste,” she said, quiet but a definitive order. “Use your mortal senses. Slowly.”

Dani watched as she took another silver fork, speared a chunk of duck, dragged it through the sauce. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

Even without looking into her mind, Armand knew that she was both enticed by the rich food and aroused by the action, by Armand herself. “Here,” she said, quietly, holding out the fork.

Dani leaned forward, without hesitating, and closed her lips around the fork, still held in Armand’s hand. Armand’s mouth fell open, a little surprised.

The girl’s face flushed, Armand’s surprise making her realize what she’d done, but she defiantly refused to be embarrassed about it. She sat up, resettled herself in her chair. “Yeah, it’s –” she cleared her throat. “Good. Really good.”

Armand studied her, eyes tracking the blood in her cheeks, across the bridge of her nose. There were freckles there, little spots from the sun. She’d never seen them before; they were only visible with the blood-flush, it seemed. “What does it taste like?” she asked, meeting the girl’s eyes.

[...]

“What?” Armand pressed, leaning forward. “I’m your what?”

Instead of answering, the girl shoved a roll into her mouth, focaccia dripping with garlic and olive oil. She made a little sound, closed her eyes in pleasure.

Armand didn’t lean away, watched as she ate it. Her mouth was wet, shining with oil, when she’d finished. She licked it up, not wasting any. When she opened her eyes, they met Armand’s, that beautiful and unusual color.

If Armand had any sense, this would be the girl’s last meal. The wine and rich foods would marinate her to perfection for Armand. She would glut herself on the girl’s blood, flooded even now with the effects of the wine. Armand would come away as outrageously drunk as the girl already was. She could smell it, see the pulse hammering in the great vein of her throat.

The waitress returned with the dessert, and Armand sat back in her chair, quickly enough that she heard the wood crack behind her.

[...]

Armand gestured. “This is your hotel, is it not?”

“Oh!” she laughed, embarrassed. She was quite drunk. “Yeah. Let’s –” she stopped, eyes wide, when Armand opened the door for her.

“Go on,” she said. “Aren’t you cold?”

She shook her head, but wheeled through the door, all the same.

She was on the fourth floor, here, but this hotel was expensive and newly constructed, and its elevator was grand and wide. Armand followed her into it, leaned against the wall and watched her.

Dani blew air through her lips, a little nervously, and tilted her head back to look at the ceiling.

Armand followed her gaze, looking up. It was mirrored, silver and gleaming. Her eyes met the girl’s, in the reflection, and stayed there until the elevator made a noise, alerting them to their arrival on the desired floor.

[sofiapagen]

VOIDED

I wrote a short story to release some bottled up fantasies. It started as a self-insert fiction but it evolved into a weird window into into my obsessive-compulsive judgemental line of thinking. The full thing will forever stay hidden from the public, but a particular excerpt felt just vulnerable enough that I felt comfortable sharing with the world.

Per usual, a peek behind the curtain of the original photos & drawings below the read more, as well as some explanations:

Keys and lockets paired with birds in cages: feeling trapped, like I can't escape the cycle (shown by the arrows).

7: the deadly sins.

crosses: christianity

Dice and D20s: relate to the celebrity I've been fawning over, the parasocial relationship that kickstarted these pieces.

Olive tree and oil: expectations of christian upbringing, living up to the richness of the culture, values, stories. I colored it like motor oil not only because it looks prettier than a blob of olive oil, but also because now I'm giving it new meaning.

Blood, fluid: what flows through our veins.

Thank you for reading!

[athena-theunicorn]

i’ve grown up around greeks and greek culture my whole life. i learned to speak the language, eat the food, olive oil runs through my veins, yada yada. point is, i know a lot of greeks - specifically old greek men - and i can say with 100% certainty that ember’s dad is basically an old greek immigrant.

[biohazard-inevitable]

It may be silly and quaint but I like to daydream about my future fridge that is organized by just me…

Eggs would be in a clear, reusable container so i can see how many are left

A well kept drawer just for cheese

Perishables like potatoes and fruits would be front and center, easy to grab and see if they’ve gone bad

Clear nozzled bottles that are labeled for different cooking oils wether it be cooking wine, olive oil, etc all labeled with the name and last restock date

A drawer for herbs like garlic cloves and other vegetables in that sort of vein

Little clear organiser baskets of snacks places in a line like they would be at the grocery store

Sodas also in a similar clear container so i can see when to restock

2 % milk and Heavy cream aplenty as well as whipped cream

A butter section seperate from everything so i dont have to go digging for it every time….

Everything neat and tidy and easily accessible for any recepie I may try

OH! And a basket organizer purely reserved for leftovers in tupperware so they dont get forgotten about

[semprelibera]

Are you Italian?

I gave myself away when I said that extra-virgin olive oil runs through my veins didn’t I

[ranger-kellyn]

i said i wasn't going to write an essay, but i ended up writing an essay anyway

so, here, my official review of scarlet and violet. obv major spoilers below. also, unfortunately, it's mostly negative, so be mindful of that. at the end of the day, the only thing i can say i loved about the games were the characters-

and even then, my love of the characters doesn't feel...idk if genuine is the word i'm looking for, but something along that vein. like. the story i was writing in my head during my second playthrough was more enjoyable than the actual playthrough itself. i love the version of the characters who live in my head -- but i really have to ask myself, am I just doing that whole "OC committing identity fraud" thing...?

open world full of fucking nothing. my favorite thing to do in BoTW was get up somewhere high, look around, admire the view, and then just take me wherever my stamina could get me to. in this game, you get up high and there's...not really anything of note to look at. the textures are awful and stretched, and so many of the mountains are at a needle point. i have no motivation to actually go out and search for all 999 gimmighoul coins just to evolve one ugly pokemon into an even more ugly pokemon.

there's a distinct lack of Sense Of Place throughout the game, and in the wildes it's in how sparce the landscapes are. Hardly any trees or unique landmarks. the towns and cities are even worse in this regard. like. apart from the occasional spanish tossed in here and there, and the general shape of the region, and names of the towns, how in the fuck would I have known the region is inspired by spain?? like. how did we go from Galar which is very in-your-face-obnoxious-English to Paldea which is like..........spanish i guess

As a tangent to the above, the distinct lack of like. culture??? there are so many wonderful foods that come out of spain-- and sandwhiches??????? i remember thinking curry was weird for galar, but was satisfied with the answer of "it's a current trendy food". sure, fine, i can deal. sandwhiches????? how the fuck is me throwing three pickles and some olive oil on a footlong supposed to lure out pokemon

anyways,

the game feels wildly directionless. if you look up a list of the "least to most strong" encounters for each three storylines, there is no way in FUCK it makes sense from an exploratory standpoint. it's made worse by the fact that the battles don't scale. one of the best things about BoTW is how, in my experience, no matter what order you do things in, no matter when you decide to finally take on ganon-- it always felt satisfying. finishing up these three storylines didn't feel satisfying in either of my runs, and looking at it from an objective standpoint-- i can't find a way to write this and have it make sense without scaling things. it the battles simply scaled this would be a non issue for me. Not to mention the classes you're also supposed to be taking at the academy during all of this. I completely skipped over them during my first playthrough, but made sure to go and take the classes every other gym or so. yes, they added to the lore here and there, and it was a neat attempt at the whole free time events to bond with characters and whatnot. but it still kinda fell flat for me. (also if i have to read "apro-pros of nothing" one more time i Will gouge my eyes out) (ALSO yes i had to look up what in the fuck chugey meant when the director asked like bitch me the fuck too no clue what it meant)

related to directionless, the game's final arc in the great crater feels...too slow, then on the immediate flip side, too fucking fast. like. for the longest time, i couldn't have told you what the plot of the game was. the treasure hunt feels vague at best. for the longest time, the three storylines just felt like "things you can do" rather than like genuine plot. like. finding out the professor is long dead and essentially the "bad guy" of the region feels...eh? like. i guess it was emotional, but the painfully slow build up only to have the end of the game take like...less than half an hour? Arven's neglect from his parents feels rushed and not really handled with much care. Penny's whole story line with Team Star also feels...unsatisfying? I think her final battle would have been better had all the star leaders ended up revealing themselves when she was down to just Sylveon, about to lose, basically giving way to phase two where their cheering her on gives a huge power boost to Sylveon, like how the crowd cheering can give you boosts in other battles. As much as I love Nemona. like. i ADORE this kid. she feels...inconsistent at times. (which like-- in plenty of ways i'll give her a pass bc like. Teenager lmao. but also. :\) I think I really just don't understand her role as student council president. she doesn't read student council president to me. maybe a club president, but not of the whole student council. always ready to rush into things without thinking them through-- not exactly qualities you would want from SCP.

dont even get me started on the performance issues and distance rendering. like....good fucking god. like. even the fact that the in-game timer is dependent on the frames--- my game for scarlet says i have 37:07 hours in the game. my switch profile says i have over 40 hours. 3 hours of game time lost to lag. on youtube, smallant's violet video showed the same thing. his in game timer was at like 14 and the profile timer was at like 16 and so.....Bad Some of the glitches and bugs were funny for a bit, but i really just...can only laugh for so long before getting overwhelmed with "these wouldn't be here if they had just given the game an extra year or two of work". The fact that the very first mod I saw for the game was a 60FPS mod-- it's sad.

ALSO ALSO. i fucking HATE the lack of a visual or audio cue for shiny pokemon. the models are already too fucking small for me to see, and then the colors aren't stark enough for me to notice-- i will literally never find a shiny pokemon if they don't patch that in. i will not see them. i am missing out on a whole section of the game because gamers hate disabled people so fucking much.

but i guess to end i'll try to talk more about the things i did like.

the genders in this game??????

fucking IMMACULATE. catch me grinning like a dork every time i catch a glimpse of rika-- i want what she has so fucking bad i cant sEE STRAIGHT

my faves of the game are Nemona, Rika, Atticus, and Grusha, but there's really no characters other than Iono who i actively dislike. the only thing i like about Iono has been watching actual streamers get to her and visibly cringe and dsfhljk. good joke But i fucking ADORE Nemona. she's a little one dimensional, sure, and sometimes i felt like her characterization wasn't exactly. consistent?? but i love how all about the player character she is. i love the "lets be rivals for life" cheesiness. i love that she thought you were just picking fights with randos when you first meet Team Star and was like, "you can have all the battles you'll ever want with me!" i ESPECIALLY loved playing it as the girl bc it all just reads like "i have the biggest fucking crush on you and it's also my first huge crush so i have no clue how to even act around you" I love how absolutely kind and wonderful she is. My favorite rival since Cheren and Bianca back in BW. I will not forgive the fandom for at first making her sound like this huge creepy stalker. that's my "cinnamon roll who could probably kill you" your honor. Rika is just...my own personal "life goals or wife goals????????" bc fucking CHRIST i look at her and have my own little gay meltdown every time. i wanna look like her sO BAD i'm literally buying clothes to dress like her Atticus i love bc the fandom seems to find him annoying, but i just adore this little theater nerd. really, i ended up adoring all of Team Star. at the end i was looking at all of them and laughing to myself, saying, "yeah i know why these kids were getting bulled. same reason i was getting bullied. we ALL are running around with undiagnosed autism aren't we". i also just love that atticus has the most gorgeous face hiding under that goofy ass hood. goofy theater boy let me love you Grusha i found really compelling my second playthrough, where i actually talked to more NPCs and realized that like...oh. grusha got fucked up on the slopes, didn't he? that little cetoddle you see him with is probably like...a disability aid pokemon of some kind. his line that's like, "this is a bad day to challenge me, are you sure?" is probably more like. you essentially went to challenge him on the day that is also the anniversary of his big injury. (unfortunately i also one-shot his entire team in both playthroughs so like....for gym 8 he wasn't that strong :( ) but he's def a character i'd love to dig into one of these days.

so, i loved the characters. i even loved the dynamic of the Elite 4. While i hate the idea of a like....4 year old...being on the e4, i like to think it's more like...Poppy's parent is on the e4, but they're in and out of the region a ton and Poppy has just memorized how to order her parent's pokemon and -- idk. it sounds funnier in my head.

and as many gripes i have about the new pokemon, i do think there was a good balance of new to old pokemon. i wish i liked some of the evos more (looking at all the nightmare bugs) but i do think the balance was pretty good. My first team was: Skeledirge, Klawf, Tauros (water), Tinkaton, Kilowattrel, and Baxcalibur My second team was: Quaquaval, Pawmot, Tauros (fire), Tinkaton, Farigiraf, and an EV trained Sunflora bc it made me laugh Clearly Tinkaton is a favorite, but as I've said before, Quaquaval absolutely snuck its way into my heart. I also loved the Tauros variants, which I also thought was a simple but great way to get more out of less.

but so i guess the big question is: do I think Scarlet and Violet are worth $60+????

honestly...i don't think i can say yes. the negatives outweigh the positives for me, but on the same hand, i don't exactly regret spending the $120 for both games. but i am a story writer and it's given me enough plot bunnies to be worthwhile to me. i don't like that most of what i'm already brainstorming feels like nothing but fix it fics... but i digress.

tl;dr: good characters, great genders. performance and graphical errors out the ass. an open world full of nothing and no life. a generous 5/10

[athenianwit]

PROMPT 013 — COMPANION.

"Divine Song within my veins, Hear my call beyond the planes."

When this was mentioned to the camp, Atticus must have asked a hundred questions to both Daphne and Seraphiem. He'd never told a ritual like this before but was going to do everything in his power to get it right, taking his time to get every symbol done correctly. As he prepared his offering, Atticus got his mothers sacred food— a bowl of olives, as well as a vial of olive oil and a few olive leaves. Not only was this standard for any ritual but Atticus hoped it would help him find kinship with a companion who was also connected to his mother. Finally, the son of Athena gave a few drops of his own blood in hopes that it would help build a connection.

"I pronounce my intentions to thee, Appear for me now and equals we shall be."

Atticus had chosen his personal library to perform the ritual, clearing out a few of the furniture that were in the middle of the room and doing it in the middle of the night. This was the one place he truly felt at peace, where he could escape from the horrors of the world that they lived in and get lost in whatever world he chose to explore. His library had become a sacred place for Atticus and almost nobody was permitted in here without his presence. It was where his mind was always the most clear. 

"Not master and servant, nor collar or chain. But partner to partner, equals in name."

As the son of the Athena performs the ritual, he could feel a strong power begin to overtake him. It wasn't like anything he had experienced before but he didn't fear, he embraced it. Whatever this presence was, it was weaving their souls together. Atticus couldn't see this companion yet but he could feel it. A majestic creature with a mind that was sharp and powerful, one who shared his curiosity and thirst for knowledge, who wanted to protect others, and would follow Atticus down whatever road he may take. 

"I call you forth, and bind together, An eternal bond that lasts forever."

As he finishes the ritual, a gust of wind seems to fill the room and the candles surrounding him seem to go out instantly. As Atticus opens his eyes to the darkness, he can hear the fluttering of something in the room that has joined him...