#god bless this acid house!

[thewidowsledger]

Bearer Of The Seed

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Targaryen!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Tags | Warnings: +18, HOUSE OF THE DRAGON AU, AMAB!Natasha, Targayen!Natasha, smut, angst (sex just for the obligation of making heirs), forced marriage (political arrangement to save reader's family), Natasha plots to make reader pregnant while reader plots to deceive Natasha lol, lots of chasing, top!Natasha, bottom!reader, dubious consent, breeding kink, rough sex, bleeding (reader is a virgin), creampie, fingering (r receiving), overstimulation & squirting (r receiving)

Author’s Note: Tiger cub!!!! 🐅 Thank you so much for your request and I hope I wrote your request the way you imagined it to be. Yey, my first fic request done! There are more, hihi <3 ps. I am not actually back yet, I just wanted to post this ksksskskss

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⧗

“Rest and heal, my sweet. And I will make sure to make up for the night we missed,” she said in a soft and gentle tone, only for you to hear as you continued to lie there, your eyes closed in what appeared to be a deep and restful sleep.

“I’ll have you full of my seed in no time.”

She caressed your face for the last time gently before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

⧗

“Father, smith, warrior. Mother, maiden, crone, stranger…”

The words felt like acid on your tongue. Each one stinging you as they leave your lips. You loathed having to say them. You loathed having to agree. This wasn't some love match. It was the voice of a prisoner accepting their fate.

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Natasha, refusing to blink despite the tears forming. You will not cry. Not in her presence. You will not give her that satisfaction. So you try your best to stand tall, to be defiant. Though it's hard when you feel so completely defeated as you said the final words that will seal you both forever.

“I am yours...and you are mine. From this day...until the end of my days.”

The last word was hardly out of your mouth when Natasha took a step forward and captured your lips with hers. Natasha’s grip on your hips tightens as she pulls you firmly against her. Her lips are rough and insistent as they move against yours. You can feel the tension and desire coursing through her as she claims your mouth in a possessive, greedy kiss.

With what seems like great effort, Natasha breaks the kiss. She takes a step back and you notice a sly smirk slowly appear on his face as she watches you try to catch your breath and you so badly wanted to wipe that on her face. Clearly, she was enjoying the effect she had on you, but you will not make this easy for her.

You will make sure to play this game on your hands, not hers.

⧗

“Heirs…”

Hearing your now family bring up the subject of heirs, made you feel a lump form in your throat. It was something you'd tried to avoid thinking about, but you knew it was a reality you would have to face.

Natasha didn't even flinch. She seems confident and unbothered, like she has no concerns in that regard. She responds without missing a beat.

“Oh, we’ll have heirs. Plenty of them, in fact.”

Natasha's grip on your hands tightens slightly, you force a tight-lipped smile on your face as you struggle to appear calm.

“I will make sure that our marriage bed will not lack heat. We’ll have as many children as the gods see fit to bless us with.” She added with such confidence.

You knew that the celebration was coming to an end and you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the noise and the crowd—by her. The air felt hot and stifling. Without saying a word, you excused yourself but as you stood Natasha didn't let go of your hand. So you eyed her intently authoritatively and she immediately released your hand, you didn't miss the flicker of hesitation and fear in her eyes. Her usual confident and authoritative demeanor seemed to be gone for a moment, revealing just the slightest crack in her armor.

As you walked, a small smirk tugged your lips, it gave you a sense of satisfaction, knowing that you had the power to affect her in that way. For a brief moment, you felt like you were in control, that you had some bargaining power in this situation.

Of course you do, you will play this game right on your palm, right?

You stepped into the cool night air of the corridors outside, you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you as you thought about the fact that your family had been saved, you realized just how high the cost was. Natasha had saved you from ruin, but the price was steep. You were now the payment, a pawn in a larger game of power and politics. Knowing that you were traded like a piece of livestock in exchange for your family’s safety, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

One of the foremost was the fact that you will need to carry the child of someone you didn't really know. Natasha Romanoff was a complex and dangerous woman, unpredictable, impulsive and arrogant—those are the only things you know about her. So the thought of being connected to her through a child was unsettling, to say the least. Yet you knew, as soon as the words of the scripted vows you loathed to say forcefully fell from your lips, there was no turning back.

It is inevitable or perhaps it can be avoided?

You were lost in your own thoughts, worrying about your future, when the maid servant's voice broke your train of thought.

“The celebration is over, your Grace. The King will be expecting you in her chambers.”

Her words and the instructions were simple, but they sent a shiver of unease through you. But you wanted to test the waters, you wanted to test who among you holds such power to the both of you.

“Let her know that I am denying her request,” you replied coldly as the night breeze.

“But your Gra—”

“Tell her that.” you cut her off with a finality, “I’ll be at my chambers, I’ll retire early for tonight.” You added, hinting that if she wished to prove the power she has on you, she will come and show you.

The night slipped away and you opted for the secret chambers that only and your maester, Wanda knew. Inside, you hoped to find solitude and respite from the pressures and chaos of the day.

You stayed in the dimly lit room, the only light provided by a few flickering candles, as the night went on. You didn’t know whether or not Natasha had come to your original chambers, expecting to find you there.

But you will make sure not surrender yourself, not without a fight.

⧗

Natasha was growing increasingly frustrated as she recounted different excuses from the maid servants every time she inquired about you. She hadn't seen you since the night of your wedding, and the more time passed the more suspicious she became.

Another maid servant entered her headquarters and she is for sure to deliver another excuse from you.

“The Queen is not feeling well, you Grace.”

The maid servant stood before the King, her hands clasped in front of her nervously as she delivered her message.

“What happened? What does the maester say the issue is?” The suspicion that she had in mind is now gone and is replaced by a deep concern for you.

“Well, you Gr—”

“I will go and check on my wife.”

“I fear the Queen doesn’t want anyone in her chambe—”

“I’m not anyone, I am her King. I am her wife.”

Without another word of excuse, she rose from her seat and stalked out of the room. The King wasted no time making her way through the halls of the Keep, her steps were loud as she walked towards your chambers.

The moment Natasha stepped into the chambers, her eyes immediately fell upon your pale form lying in the bed. She was by your side in an instant, her hand reaching out to touch your forehead—and she could feel the heat radiating from you.

“Gods, you’re burning up,” she muttered, as she took in your sickly appearance.

Natasha's eyes darted to the maester as she confirmed that you would be fine in time, and that you had been examined already.

“And what is the cause of her sickness?” she questioned, her gaze returning to you.

Wanda cleared her throat, as she darted her eyes on your sleeping form. She breathed, shutting her eyes before she explained the cause of your illness.

“It appears the Queen has fallen ill due to stress and exhaustion,” she said with a shaky voice, as she watched Natasha softly caress your body. “And it would be best for her to be left alone for a few days, allowing her body to rest and recover,” she added, finally eyeing the King.

“Days?” Natasha repeated as if she didn't hear it clearly.

“Yes…”

Natasha let out a heavy sigh, her mind conflicted. On one hand, she wanted to keep you in her sight and she wanted you to be okay now so she could spend the nights with you fulfilling the obligations of making a long line of heirs. On the other, she knew the maester was likely right about your need for solitude and rest.

“Rest and heal, my sweet. And I will make sure to make up for the night we missed,” she said in a soft and gentle tone, only for you to hear as you continued to lie there, your eyes closed in what appeared to be a deep and restful sleep.

“I’ll have you full of my seed in no time.”

She caressed your face for the last time gently before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

As she withdrew, she turned to the Wanda who was standing just outside the doorway of your chamber. “Do everything you can to ensure that she is well soon,” she instructed.

“Yes, your Grace.”

As soon as Natasha left your chambers, you slowly and stealthily got up from the bed where you had been feigning sleep. Your body trembled slightly as you inhaled deep breaths, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You were grateful that your plan had worked, and that Natasha had believed your act of being sick.

Wanda, your trusted maester and ally in your plan, looked at you with a sigh as you got up from the bed.

“I told you hot water and a cloth would do the trick,” she said, referring to the method she suggested to fake your elevated temperature.

“I’ll have you full of my seed in no time.”

“My Grace, are you alright? Are you really sick now? You look pale.”

You snapped back to the present, your mind still replaying Natasha's words from earlier when she spoke to you while you were pretending to be in a deep slumber.

“I’m fine,” you assured Wanda, your voice a little shaky. “Just a bit…tired, that’s all.”

Tired of all this.

“Well, I shall leave you alone then, my Grace.”

Wanda has been the first person you became close with, and she has been nothing but supportive to cover up for you and your plans. You even heard her lie for you just a while ago and that was not even a part of your plan. But when the King asked about your condition—your fake condition, she still did with no hesitation.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

⧗

It had been several days since Natasha’s visit, and you had successfully managed to avoid her so far due to your pretense of being sick. Now, you were stepping out into the gardens, seeking a change of scenery and some fresh air.

The gardens were a lovely sight, the sun shining brightly and the flowers in full bloom. You strolled along the pathways, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

As you were walking in the garden, relishing the tranquil surroundings, your eyes caught a glimpse of something or rather, someone—in the distance. It was Natasha, standing next to Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm.

Her gaze was fixated on you and you could tell that she was surprised to see you out and about, considering the fact that you were supposed to be unwell. And now, she is making her way over to you.

Your instincts kicked in immediately, and your first thought was to run. Without hesitation, you darted through the gardens, your heart racing as you navigated the twisting and turning paths of the maze.

As you ran, adrenaline pumped through your veins, and you quickened your pace, determined to elude her as long as possible.

You were dressed in a gown made of flowing silk, the fabric soft and lightweight against your skin. The hem of the dress brushed against the grass as you ran, occasionally catching on the leaves of the maze bushes.

You sprinted through the maze, dodging and weaving between the high walls of greenery. As you continued running through the maze, your heart rate spiked ever higher when you caught a glimpse of Natasha through the gaps in the leaves.

Seeing her so close, so determined to find you, sent another jolt of adrenaline through your body, the fight-or-flight response kicking into high gear.

Although you were aware that she would eventually catch you, you refused to let her have an easy victory. You steeled yourself, determined to play this game in your own hands.

The twists and turns of the maze became your playground. Every time you thought she was closing in, you would change direction, taking unexpected forks that would put some distance between you again.

As you sprinted through the maze, looking back in the direction you last saw Natasha, a sudden body slammed in front of you. The force knocked you off balance, catching you off guard.

A pair of hands locked around your arms, effectively trapping you, preventing any further escape.

“Are you running away from me?”

As you met Natasha’s intense gaze, your heart raced and your words came out in a slight stutter. “Y-your Grace…” you started to say, but your mind was too preoccupied with the situation to form a coherent response.

You gulped as you looked away, and then replied with a shaky voice. “No, your Grace,” you said, your eyes still fixed on the soil where you were standing. Despite your denial, there was undeniable fear in your voice.

“I was expecting that you’re still in your chambers, resting. Wanda told me you’re still sick.”

“I wanted to go out, g-get some fresh air…”

“You should’ve come to me so I will go out with you.”

“I…” you hesitated for a moment, wanting to be careful on how you’re going to say the next words, “I wanted to have some time alone, y-your Grace.”

Her grip on your arms relaxed slightly as she heard your response. “I haven't had a night alone with you since our wedding, Y/N,” she said, she sounded a bit disappointed that made you hitch your breath.

“Look at me.” She commanded, leaving no room for disobedience. And you slowly did, as your gazes met, her eyes softened with a little fire of an intense desire, and her proximity to you made your heart race even faster.

In a swift and dominating move, Natasha closed the remaining distance between you and claimed your lips in a searing kiss. Natasha sensed your attempts to resist so she deepened the kiss, her tongue demanding entry, as her hands on your arms pulled you even closer to her.

Your resistance was a futile battle and you finally surrendered to her but you fought not to moan as her tongue explored the cavern of your mouth, leaving you breathless and vulnerable. As Natasha moved her attention towards your neck, her lips and tongue trailing along the sensitive skin, you tilted your head back, submitting to her control.

Her lips left your neck as she leaned towards your ear, her words a low, seductive whisper.

“I shall be expecting to see you in my chambers tonight.”

⧗

The evening had arrived, and Natasha made her way to her chamber, fully expecting to find you there—in her bed in all your glory. However, as she entered the room, her eyes scanned the space, but you were nowhere to be seen. Her initial confusion quickly turned into seething anger as she realized you didn’t follow her command.

She wasted no time and stormed through the corridors, her patience wearing thin. It has been far too long, and she is determined to have you, one way or another. Her strides were purposeful and filled with seething anger, her mind set on one mission.

To find you and bring you to her bed.

As soon as she stepped into your chambers, her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. She approached the figure lying in the bed, she leaned closer to get a better look of you, and when she dipped her knee to the soft bed, the figure suddenly moved, emitting a piercing scream. Startled, Natasha let out a gasp, quickly realizing it wasn’t you but your maid servant.

“Y-your Grace!” The maid servant rushed out apologetically as she immediately threw the thick covers out her body and stood.

“Where is Y/N? Why are you in the Queen’s bed?!” Natasha demanded.

“Queen Y/N noticed I-I wasn’t feeling well and…well, I am fine but-but the Queen insisted that I am not fine,” the maid servant’s hands flew in different direction as she tried to explain herself, “and she told me…she insisted that I should rest, right here, in her bed. And she left.” The maid servant scrambled, the words coming out in a rush from her lips not wanting to receive the seething anger of the King.

“Forgive me, your Grace…please.”

The maid servant's continuous apologies grew quieter as Natasha's attention shifted. Her gaze moved towards the window, where she spotted a figure dashing towards the garden maze. She instantly recognized it was you, and a sly smile tugged at her lips. Ignoring the maid servant, Natasha stepped towards the window of your chambers.

Once again, you found yourself racing through the labyrinthine maze, your breath coming in short gasps as you desperately sought an escape. The twists and turns of the paths seemed to taunt you, creating a confusing web to ensnare you. Fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, your mind focused on one goal and that is to survive the night without having to spend it on the King’s bed.

Natasha’s voice echoed through the night, “Making a maid servant sleep in your own bed, just to fool me?”

Despite the gasp that escaped your lips at the sound of Natasha's seething voice, you refused to let it slow you down. Your legs propelled you forward, your bare feet pounding against the cool grass as you continued your race through the maze. There was no time for looking back, only the need to elude her pursuit.

“You were never ill, Y/N!”

As you ran through the maze, the tears of fear started to well up in your eyes, causing you to shut them tightly shut. The emotions coursing through you were overwhelming—fear, defiance, and the weight of the situation hitting you all at once. Yet, amidst it all, a small part of you stubbornly held onto the hope that you could somehow escape Natasha.

Just as you rounded a corner in the maze, a strong body suddenly locked onto you, arms encircling you like a vise grip. Caught off guard, you let out a gasp in surprise, struggling against the strong hold. The realization that Natasha had finally caught you struck you like a bolt of lightning.

“I knew you heard me that time…I never lied when I said I will make sure you’re full of my seed.”

In a swift and effortless motion, Natasha scooped you up and threw you in her shoulders, her strong grip on your thighs unyielding as she carried you to her chambers. You tried to resist, squirming and fighting against her, but her strength was undeniable. Despite your attempts to break free, it was clear that you had no chance of escape.

The game is no longer in your hands. It never was.

The guards stationed nearby stood at their positions, their eyes averted from the scene. They could only watch as Natasha carried you flailing in her arms, your screams piercing the air. Fear for their own lives kept them in place, knowing full well that they could have their heads off if they bothered to look in your direction.

“Lock the doors!” she barked, her tone leaving no room for questions. The guards obeyed, swiftly securing the chamber doors, sealing you and Natasha inside. Without a moment of hesitation, she hurled you onto her bed, the force of her throw causing you to bounce slightly upon the plush mattress.

“Strip,” she commanded in a low voice that made you shiver in fear, “Remove every piece of clothing you wear. I want to see my wife before me in all her naked glory. Do not forget to remove any trinkets or tokens you may be wearing.”

Your hands were shaking when you let your dress slip to the floor, revealing your vulnerable form, your body betrays you with gooseflesh. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over and cascading down your cheeks.

Natasha watched, sitting at the bed as you stripped the last piece of clothing out of your body.

Her cold, green orbs leisurely take in every inch of your bare flesh. They linger on the fullness of your breasts, the pebbled peaks begging for her touch. Her gaze trails down to the small, dark mole at the side of your breast, a unique birthmark that she commits to memory.

Her eyes continue their languid descent, taking in the slight roundness of your belly soon to be full of her seed, the flare of your hips, and the soft curls at the juncture of your thighs. She studies the glistening evidence of your fear and humiliation, the pink folds of your pussy already swollen and slick.

The shame of your nakedness burns through you like a physical touch, amplified by the fact that Natasha remains fully clothed. Her silken robes and velvet cloak seem to mock your naked form, the heavy golden brooch at her shoulder a stark reminder of the game is now holding place in her hands.

A cruel smile plays on Natasha’s lips as she sees the shame and fear in your eyes. She rises once more, her tall form towering over you. Her hands go to the sash at her waist, undoing it with deliberate slowness.

The silk slithers to the floor, pooling around her feet. She begins to slowly unlace her leather breeches, her gaze locked with yours. As the garment falls away, revealing her hardened cock, you can't help but gulp, your eyes wide with trepidation.

She stepped closer to you, caressing your cheek. You didn't know why but you leaned in to her touch as she wiped the tears off your face. She looked at your glossy eyes before she leaned forward, her lips pressing against yours in a soft, yet commanding kiss. Your lips part instinctively, allowing her to sweep her tongue inside, claiming your mouth as hers.

“Open wider,” she demands, breaking the kiss to gaze down at you. She tilts your head back further, forcing your mouth open wider. She kisses you again, this time her tongue probing deeper, exploring the warmth of your mouth. She sucks on your bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth and biting down gently.

Your breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping your throat as her kiss becomes more intense. Her hands tangled in your hair and you can't help but moan softly, the sound muffled against her lips.

Natasha broke the kiss and sees the raw innocence in your eyes, the moisture making them glisten like jewels. Your lips are swollen and parted, a thin string of saliva stretching between them, quivering as you suck in ragged breaths. Her gaze darkens with lust and satisfaction.

“My bed has been lacking...heat,” she murmurs, her voice low and gravelly. She reaches out, wiping the saliva from your chin with her thumb. “And you, my sweet, are going to warm it tonight.”

You took a step backwards and tilt your head to the side to avoid her touch.

“You make it difficult,” she says, her voice tight with frustration, “to fulfill the one duty that should be simple. I have conquered cities, bent knees to mine, tamed dragons...And yet, you make it hard for me to plant my seed in your womb.”

“Am I just a bearer of your offspring?” You pinched your brows together, finally eyeing the King as the tears cascaded down your face.

“Yes,” she replied bluntly, undressing herself, “in this, you are.” As her clothing falls away, revealing her breasts and her tanned, muscular body, she meets your gaze squarely. “But know this, my sweet, you are not just any bearer.”

“You are my Queen—my own wife who dared to deceive and defy me,” she says as she steps forward, her eyes roaming over your body hungrily. “And when I have won, when you carry my child, you will be the mother of my heir.”

“And perhaps,” she says, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she leans over you, “when this is done, when my line is secured, you will be something more.” Her gaze holds yours captive. “But for tonight, you are simply the woman I must breed.”

Your heart shatters in your chest as she speaks those words. The cold, hard truth of her intent cuts deep, each word a knife twisting in your soul. You are not her beloved, her equal, but a tool, a vessel to bear her child and you knew it from the beginning.

Without you carrying her offspring, you are nothing.

Natasha then grabs you roughly, flipping you around and throwing you onto the bed. She climbs over you, positioning herself behind your ass.

With a sudden, brutal motion, she thrusts herself inside you, ignoring your cries of pain as she tears through your resisting body. She groans in satisfaction, her hands gripping your hips as she begins to rut into you with merciless force, her dragon's strength overpowering any objections you might have.

“You are mine now,” she growls, her breath hot against your ear. “No more defiance, no more resistance. You will bear my child, as is your purpose.” Each word is punctuated by a hard thrust, her hips slamming against your ass cheek with brutal intensity.

She pulls out of you suddenly, her thick cock glistening with your virgin blood. Natasha flips you over, pushing your hips in the bed. Her body pressed heavily against yours as she positioned herself between your legs. Without warning, she slams back into you, her dragon-sized cock splitting you open.

You're screaming now, your voice echoing off the walls as she fucks you with brutal, animalistic intensity.

She moves to silence your screams and releases your mouth long enough to trail her lips down your body, pausing to suckle at each breast roughly, her teeth scraping against your sensitive nipples.

“You are so tight around me, Y/N,” she groans, her voice low and possessive. “Your body was made just for my pleasure. Your virgin hole is so snug, clasping around me like a glove. You were made to be filled by me, to bear my children.”

Her hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, allowing her to bury herself deeper. As she grinds her hips against yours, she leaned down and your hands immediately claw at her back, your fingernails digging into her skin.

Her muscled back flexes under your desperate, clawing hands. You feel each ridge of muscle, the hard strength of her. Despite the pain she's causing, despite the brutal taking, your body responds to her, your core clenching around her cock as you feel her powerful body move against yours.

“Y-your…Grace…” you called out for her, mouth open as she tore you apart. You held her neck and the silver locks of her hair, your legs crossed at her waist.

“You’re my Queen.” She growled in your ear.

“Yes, your Grace!” You cried out in pain and pleasure.

“Then you will take what I give you, you will be painted with my seed and soon enough you’ll bear my heir.”

Her words made your pussy clench even tighter around her massive cock. She feels it, her thrusts becoming even more powerful as she drives her seed deep into your womb.

She straightens up, her hands gripping your hips as she slams into you one final time. Her body stiffens, her head thrown back in a silent roar as she finds her release. She grinds her hips against yours, ensuring every drop is deep inside you.

Natasha pulls out of you slowly, her eyes locked onto your well-stretched opening. She watches as her seed begins to leak out mixing with your virgin blood, a possessive growl rumbling in her chest. Without hesitation, she pushes the escaping seed back inside with her slender fingers.

“My seed stays inside you,” she continues to push her fingers inside you, scooping up her own seed and forcing it back into your walls, making sure it's as deep inside you as possible. She repeats this process several times, her fingers pumping in and out of you as she ensures her claim is secure.

The sensation of her fingers pushing into you, combined with the gentle throbbing from her earlier pumps, becomes too much to bear. You can feel yourself growing more and more sensitive, the line between pleasure and pain blurring. You moan, your voice barely a whisper.

“Your Grace...it's too much…”

She ignores your plea, her voice dark as she murmurs, “It’s Natasha for you, my sweet.” Her fingers continue to push into your overstimulated hole, the motion causing you to convulse around her.

“Natasha…” you stammer, her name tumbling from your lips like a prayer as the intense sensation consumes you. Her name on your lips, filled with such raw emotion, makes her own stomach flutter.

You convulse violently, your body shaking uncontrollably as a gush of liquid spurts out from between your thighs. Natasha muffles her approval against your neck, her voice thick with satisfaction as she feels the evidence of your spend.

“Say it again,” she demands, her fingers continuing to pump into you as the aftershocks wrack your body. “Say my name like that again, Y/N.” Her own control is slipping, your words affecting Natasha more than she’d like to admit. You whimper, your voice hoarse.

"N-Natasha...Natasha...only...only you…” Each word is punctuated by a sharp breath as your body continues to spasm around her fingers. She lets out a low groan, her head dropping to your shoulder as she listens to you beg for her alone.

“You’re so good for me,” she praises, her voice rough with desire. She withdraws her fingers from your dripping pussy, bringing them to her mouth to clean them with a hungry suckle. Her eyes never leaving yours as she does so, drinking in the sight of her Queen overcome with pleasure.

“From now on, you will sleep in this same bed as mine so I can ensure that you remain well-bred every night.”

[clipartdinosaur]

Griddlehark Fics

I have read an absolutely insane amount of Griddlehark fanfics in the past few months so I figured I could make a like...list of all of my favorites that I bookmarked. I'm not sure if anyone will use this but if anything it will be for my own self-indulgence LOL. Just a heads up, this list WILL contain spoilers up to Nona the Ninth, so proceed with your own discretion. Anyway here we go!

(♥︎ = favorite!)

Short (<15k):

"By the Sword" by JeanLuciferGohard (2.6k)

The Reverend Daughter of the Ninth, Necrosaint, Ascended, the greatest bone adept in an Age, does one push-up, and collapses. Harrow does not beg for her cavalier. Harrow rakes her hair back and snarls, “Nav, I am going to unzip your cranial sutures. One by one. And zip them up again sideways.”

"Your Necro Questions Answered" by Magichorse (8.8k)

Syndicated columnist "Nav the Cav" offers a sympathetic ear to cavaliers across the galaxy and dispenses practical, no-nonsense, real talk advice on how to properly manage and care for your necromancer.

"A Lesson in Bones" by Magichorse (3.8k)

One of the laboratory trials at Canaan House compels Harrowhark to swap bodies with her cavalier. What will Gideon do with the power of the most talented bone adept in generations at her disposal? Nothing good, probably.

"Visions of Gideon" by tothewillofthepeople (13k)

Oh my god they were roommates...

"true love's kiss, or something equally nauseating" by corpsesoldier (4.6k)

She was where she needed to be. She was going to pull her necro out of this godforsaken tomb, end the game of musical bodies they were playing, and then everything would be all right. Harrow would be alive. And Gideon was going to give her shit for approximately the next myriad for not just taking what she’d offered and saving them a whole lot of trouble.

"The Big Warm Dark" by decalexas (haelstorm) (2.7k)

Gideon Nav knows how to swing a longsword, brandish a rapier, bridge the gap between life and death, punch the dead in the face, and maybe overthrow an Empire along the way. What she doesn't know how to do is reach for the girl who made all of this possible.

"carrion comfort, despair (not feast on thee)" by NotAFicWriter (5k)

Some time after Alecto wakes, Harrow and Gideon finally have a moment to speak to one another. Hearts are bared. Teeth are bared. Intentions are bared. It all comes at great personal cost (emotional honesty).

"never exhale all the way" by pigflight (1.2k)

Harrowhark paints Gideon's face.

"such an almighty sound" by CountingNothings (10k)♥︎

“I need you to marry me,” Harrow says, a propos of absolutely nothing that Gideon can see. And, uh, okay, this is not what childhood best frenemies say to each other upon discovering that both of their graduate programs have weird residence requirements. “What,” Gideon asks, “the fuck?”

"A Handsomely Dangerous Thing" by zoicite (1.5k)

Had Harrow ever looked at Gideon and felt pride before? Surely not. It sat like a tumor in her chest, a cancerous lump that had grown where it did not belong.

"How it didn't happen" by Nary (1.5k)

"How did you lose it?" Coronabeth asked, more softly than her sister's shrill voice. The group assembled at Canaan House barely knew her, and yet here they were, asking the most irritatingly personal questions, and acting as if they were being kind and thoughtful by prying into her secrets. "I dropped my pen into a vat of acid and reached in to grab it without thinking," Harrow said dryly. Coronabeth recoiled, screwing up her pretty nose. Ianthe looked unsure whether to believe her or not. Their meatslab of cavalier just stared blankly. "The Daughter of the Ninth House was blessed in this manner from her birth, as a symbol of her strength and power over the mysteries of necromancy," Ortus interjected. Harrow glared at him. "Oh," Coronabeth said, an expression of disgusting sympathy on her flawless face. "But then you would never have known who your soulmate was!" Harrow's glare intensified. "My soulmate is bones."

"Halcyon Nights" by Morike91 (10k)

It was hard to tell what was worse: feeling the full warmth of those unguarded honey eyes fall on Harrow, or watching them narrow in recognition and contempt, their warmth now hotter with something else.  “What can I get you?” It has been at least four years since Harrow last heard the voice of Gideon Nav, but it was still as familiar as her right hand. 

"I completely fucking hate you" by ClaraZorEl (7.5k)

In the coming weeks, Harrowhark learns an unfortunate great deal about Gideon Nav. The kind of porn she likes, the number of bread rolls she can fit into her mouth at once, that she always leans too heavily on her left leg when she fights but can do fifty-seven push-ups in a row without stopping, that her biceps rates 11/10 on the scale of good biceps, that her laugh rumbles like an army of skeletons, and most importantly, that she can’t fucking stand her. Gideon Nav is so grating that Harrow has no doubt she will be her undoing. OR Harrowhark Nonagesimus has been invited to Canaan University's ball. But to successfully represent her house, she needs a cavalier, and unfortunately, her only option is her least favourite barista from her least favourite coffee shop.

"A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them" by pipistrelle (7k)

"In the end, she poisoned Ortus; so it was Harrow Nova who walked out to the shuttle a half-step behind the Daughter of the Ninth, the chain of Samael Novenary wound about her offhand wrist, the black blade of the Ninth at her side."

"The Only Prayer We Know" by pipistrelle (12k) [Part 2 of "A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them"]

It's like a bad joke: two cavaliers (alive) and two necromancers (one dead) walk into a rebel faction of humanity, looking for a new life -- in every sense of the phrase. What they find is each other, and (in some cases) themselves.

"The Flames of Hell Are Warm" by silverapples (7k)

In which Harrow is a repressed evangelical Christian and Gideon performs burlesque in a lesbian nightclub. Feat. nipple pasties, chewing gum, and a steaming mug of gay coffee (wake up and smell it, Harrow).

"Necro Business" by rnanqo (1.6k) ♥︎

“Gideon,” you said carefully, “I will need to examine your mouth. Various structures, primarily the jaw, but also the lingual muscles—the tongue—” You stopped there. Your cheeks were going red, probably with indignity. “Yeah,” I said, a bit too loudly, “yeah, sure. Do it.”

"Holy Cross, Alaska" by softieghost (10k) ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Harrow meets Gideon. They go through it together.

"my love will be your armor" by TheKnightsWhoSayBook (2.3k)

"The princess has a right to bestow her favor on whoever she wishes to win a match," Gideon tells her. "Are you going to?" "Why would I? I don't want to marry him," Harrow answers bitterly. "Do you want me to win?" Princess Harrow will be engaged to the winner of the tournament, and her only champion is her useless bodyguard Sir Gideon Nav, who isn't going to save her. Unless...?

"The Meaning Of The Word" by pipistrelle (8.4k)

Harrow, along with a good percentage of Canaan University's necromancy students, has the flu. Gideon has a lot of feelings that she is in no way equipped to handle. It's a tough week.

"(i shine only with the light you gave me)" by sashawire (1.7k) ♥︎

God prods, gently, “Even just starting with their physical description, and we can go from there.” “Imagine,” you say, from somewhere outside your body, “the worst shade of orange you’ve ever seen in your life.” * Harrowhark receives her saintly title.

"i will learn to love the shears" by corpsesoldier (4.7k)

The avulsion trial left Harrow's hair in a sorry state and Gideon offers up her expertise with a blade. Or, Gideon gives Harrow a haircut.

"The Titty Texts: A Work of a Stupendous Titty Nature" by EleniaTrexer (3k)

Gideon accidentally sends Harrow boobs. And then just keeps on sending them.

"can we start over?" by breeeliss (10k)

Gideon needs a tutor. Harrow needs someone to get her out of college gym class. All in all, a pretty straightforward arrangement to make with your ex.

"Dark Mode Enabled" by senseoftheday (12k)

Tech Company AU in which a certain Sales bro with no filter decides to ruin Harrow's life (and feature roadmap) by initiating the cross-functional project from hell. At least, Gideon has the decency to work remotely, and Harrow's new office crush makes some pretty great coffee.

"deconsecrated graves" by emotionsandphenomena (4k)

Gideon and Harrow got out of the cult they were raised in. Okay, what's next?

"settle up in heaven" by liesmyth (3k) ♥︎

“Isn’t this arrogance, Harrow?” Kiriona says. “Think you could fix what God couldn’t?”

"Quoth the Maiden" by Sarsaparilla (10.9k)

The bold outlaws Nova Hawk and Gideon meet for the first time on a narrow log-bridge. But is it really their first meeting? Or: what if Robin Hood and Little John were both lesbians?

"twice in a blue moon" by sinshine (8.7k) ♥︎

Gideon snapped out of her depressing reverie and blinked at her. "That's a really good idea." "Obviously," said Harrow, and it was only a little bit condescending. "Step one, sneak out of the party. Step two, acquire the necessary items at a store. Step three–" Harrow gestured vaguely at the deer in Gideon's hands– "And step four, profit." [G&H rush to fix a smashed snow globe that Dulcinea made so that Cam doesn't kill them before the clock strikes midnight at their NYE party. The fact that Gideon is back in her hometown after a long time away and she and Harrow have unresolved romantic tension is secondary and definitely won't be a problem.]

"It Came From Planet Slut" by LockedTombMemes (8k)

Well. Evidently going undercover to an Idan society fling in order to deliver a message to a high-profile BoE agent was a tits-out kind of look.

"Apostate's Yuletide" by sinshine (12.6k)♥︎

Gideon raised one eyebrow comically high. She smiled easily, erasing any hint of the anxiety that Harrow might have sensed. "What's with all the questions today?" Harrow huffed indignantly and fidgeted with the blanket draped across her lap, worrying the frayed hem with her fingers. "I thought your ego would appreciate the interest." "Yeah, but it's weird coming from you. I'm used to you monologuing, not playing twenty questions." "Perhaps it's a Christmas miracle," suggested Harrow, with an expression so absolutely devoid of joy that Gideon couldn't help but laugh. [Harrow and Gideon burn down a church on Xmas.]

"when it's over" by Adertily (2.5k)

Harrowhark had sworn to herself to live to see the girl in the locked tomb awaken. Alecto has risen. Now God is dead, along with everyone who had ever been dear to her - and Gideon has returned as a distorted creature. The war is over. Harrow wishes she could be too. Or: A character study based on Harrow's suicidal ideation and Gideon's determination to never run anywhere unless she absolutely has to.

"Supernova Bloom!" by sinshine (13k)

"It's just for a week, and then you never have to see me again," said Gideon. "I don't have time to find anyone else." And, "Please." Slowly, Harrow took her hand off the door and cautiously turned around. Gideon watched a dozen unspoken questions flicker across her face. She voiced none of them, but eventually settled on an expression of grim resignation. "I suppose I could suffer you for a week." [Gideon needs help getting her new flower shop ready for the grand opening. Harrow needs cash.]

"I still need your teeth around my organs" by sinshine (7.8k)

Although she was a beloved Daughter and a talented necromancer, Gideon's greatest vice was that she dearly loved to fuck around and find out. Knowing this, perhaps it shouldn't have been as shocking when she lifted one of Nova's hands, flipped it over, and kissed her palm. [4 times Gideon kisses Harrow, 1 time Harrow kisses Gideon]

"cuckoo, cuckoo" by sashawire (1.2k)

What Wake gives it is not a name. To do so would be a moronic, unnecessary cruelty. But she does deign to give it the microscopic dignity of a title, a goal, a purpose. Bomb. Eighteen years later, in the rubble of a once-sacred home, Harrowhark Nonagesimus reaches up and touches Gideon Nav’s grit-covered, blood-rimed face, splits a laugh like the world is ending, and calls her “flower.” * Six times God's unwanted daughter was nicknamed, and once she wasn't.

"my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear" by sashawire (<1k) ♥︎

Gideon chomps into her tongue as hard as she can convince herself, stifling a very dignified squawk. Her eyes water, Emperor’s left tit that fucking hurts, but—it works. Blood weeps from the bite marks, creeping down the back of her throat, up into her nasal cavity, staining her teeth. Okay. She has blood in her mouth. Blood that, somehow, needs to get into Harrow’s mouth. * Step #6: Consume the flesh.

"fifteen percent concentrated power of will" by surreptitiously (9k)

Teaching someone to do a push-up is a love language, when that person is very annoying.

"GHAZAL WHERE I'M BEGGING YOU TO TOUCH ME" by igneousbitch (12k)

You had your body and I had mine, and it was a miracle. Your hands against my face were a miracle. The rest of your meat attached to your hands was a prayer answered and a promise broken, but we were flush and gasping and alive, and Harrow—I really thought you might’ve kissed me then. But I felt it happen. The way your breath suddenly stilled, and your body locked up beneath mine, remembering. How with splintering gentleness, you pushed me away. “I’m so sorry,” was the second thing you said upon waking. The first thing had been my name. Stranded in a safehouse on an Edenite moon, Gideon and Harrow try to put themselves back together.

"catch you on the flip side, sugar lips" by corpsesoldier (4.9k)

Maybe if Harrow's brain runs enough scenarios, she'll find a way to keep what she's lost.

"hand to heart, I swear" by corpsesoldier (5k)

Gideon has a broken heart, and there's only one necromancer who can fix it.

Medium (15-30k)

"If you're doing it right you'll break their ribs" by almostnectarine (22.4k)

"How do you know Nonagesimus has gone somewhere dangerous?" asked Isaac. "Have you wired some kind of alert system?" "It's, uh. It's on the schedule," said Gideon. "I just... forgot. Because of the bread." Nobody was convinced by this, least of all Gideon. "It's a Ninth House thing," Gideon went on, backing away with increasing desperation. This was a slightly more plausible explanation, if only because nobody wanted to look too closely at what fell under the awful skeletal-ribbed and rotting umbrella of Ninth House things. "Gotta go—!" And she was out the door, gone. But it wasn't a Ninth House thing, except inasmuch as it was happening to the only two representatives of the noble and decrepit Ninth House on this quite literally godforsaken rock. Gideon knew Harrow had gone somewhere dangerous—knew that Harrow was back in the lab where they had only just completed a horrible trial—because she could see it, clear as day: an awful overlay on her vision of that terrible dangerous room and a pair of terrible dangerous hands drawing some kind of ward next to the plinth. The hands were definitely Harrow's. This was definitely a problem.

"If Home Is Where the Heart Is (Then We're All Just Fucked)" by JeanLuciferGohard (17k) ♥︎

When Gideon Nav gets a call that her ex-girlfriend, who never bothered to change her designated emergency contact, is in the hospital, she goes against her better judgement and responds. Everything after that just gets more complicated.

"blue gray green lavender" by smolranger (29k) ♥︎

Laser Radial sailor Gideon Nav just wants pass her classes, win a few regattas, and keep her head down. FJ sailor Harrowhark Nonagesimus has grand plans to qualify for the Olympics, preserve her parent's legacy, and save her home town. Despite the ties binding them together, the two have kept their college lives carefully separate for two years. But when Harrow's helm, Ortus, suffers a concussion mid-way through the fall season, their carefully separated lives collide. Harrow needs someone capable of taking Ortus' place for the remainder of the season or her Olympic dreams — and Canaan College's entire sail team — are in peril. And Gideon is her only option.

"Daughters of Hungry Ghosts" by zoicite (24k)

Harrow and Gideon and times they have (and also have not) shared a bed over the years.

"Disney World, Florida" by softieghost (24.6k) [Part 2 of "Holy Cross, Alaska"]

After the events of Alaska, Harrow thanks Gideon the only way she knows how: devotion. -- Chapter 3: The journey concludes. More confessions.

"we've got a good thing goin' " by sinshine (14.6k) ♥︎

“Not to sound ungrateful, but being here makes me wish that you had left me for dead,” said Harrow. Gideon had been staring hard at the face of the fountain’s statue. She was pretty sure that it was carved in the likeness of Naberius himself, but she didn’t want to say it out loud and make it true. She shook her head and turned to Harrow. “Leaving me to live out eternity in your bony sock puppet of a body? Hard pass.” Palamedes and Camilla shared a look. It was the mutual understanding of two people who had been trapped in close quarters with the bickering of Gideon Nav and Harrowhark Nonagesimus for far too long. [Team 69 hide out in Babs's vacation home. Because it's not like he's using it anyway.]

"Cake by the Ocean" by zoicite (15k)♥︎

Okay, so the thing was, Gideon had always been shit at plans. She knew that. Everyone knew that, but this--she really didn’t think it would be this hard! Gideon’s voice was like the least memorable thing about her. Bargaining her voice for a well-shaped set of human legs--that really should have worked in her favor.

"careful fear and (un)dead devotion" by sinshine (23k)

[Gideon and Harrow wake up back in their own bodies but both of them are missing large parts of their memory. Camilla tries not to kill everyone.]

"who ya gonna call?" by igneousbitch (24k)

“Fret not, honeybun.” Gideon shook her red hair out of her eyes, belligerent. “I’m not totally sold on your whole skepticism thing.” “Well,” Harrow said, ignoring the nickname. She turned to the rest of the room, clearing her throat politely before addressing the empty air. “Ghosts, if you’re real, give us a sign. Make a noise. Move something. Send a shiver down our backs. Whisper softly into Nav’s left ear—” “I seriously fucking hate you.” - (Casual sex and paranormal investigation. Not necessarily in that order.) (or: the Buzzfeed Unsolved AU in which Gideon is ready to fight a ghost, and Harrow just wants to be haunted.)

Long(>30k):

"Beneath a Blue and Foreign Sky" by zoicite (35k)

Harrow has a decision to make.

"A Heart Full Of Sutures" by Rohad (40k)

All Gideon wanted was to get outside and ride her motorcycle. No part of that plan had included eight weeks in Canaan Medical Center with a broken Pelvis and the meanest little doctor this side of the eastern seabord.

"Midnight at the Mithraeum" by zoicite (66k) ♥︎

It'd been two years since Gideon Nav gathered her wine key and her gaming license and escaped The Locked Tomb, a speakeasy-style cocktail bar managed by the hateful Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Now, dealing tables at The Mithraeum Hotel & Casino, things were really looking up. So when Gideon scored a date with the most beautiful showgirl in the Gilded Halls of Ida, the last thing she expected was to wake up married to her old nemesis and former coworker. The story starts the night of Gideon's date and alternates between the events leading up to the wedding and the weeks that follow as Gideon tries to navigate life married to someone who claims to want nothing more than to forget she exists.

"Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea" by pipistrelle (90k)

Being the journal of Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus, chronicling the journey of the Emperor's warship Cenotaph on its hunt to slay an immortal Resurrection Beast. Or: the Moby Dick crossover AU that nobody asked for.

"The Darkest Night, The Brightest Light" by eternaleponine (50k)

Harrowhark has known for a long time that her home's financial situation is dire, and not getting better. She has plans to fix it all, but can't implement them until she turns eighteen in a few months. When her parents announce that the best (perhaps only) way to save Drearburh is to marry off its heir, Harrow realizes the timeline has changed and she needs to take action now to save her home... and herself. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all. Enter Gideon Nav. Detested foe, and Harrow's only hope.

"putting your fist through a thick sheet of glass (i know you don't want to)" by oretsev (46k)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus and Gideon Nav have always been at each other’s throats, and the animosity has only intensified since the death of Harrow’s parents. But when a car accident leaves Gideon without any memories of her past, Harrow sees a chance at the clean slate she’s wanted for years. Becoming involved in Gideon’s recovery assuages some of the guilt, but as she and Gideon become closer and increasingly involved in each other's lives, Harrow worries that some of her secrets may be more than she can atone for.

Ongoing:

"semi-charmed kinda life" by strangedelight (182k+) ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Gideon asked questions. Harrow surprised her with answers. They reached an agreement; they decided to be smart, to be patient. Gideon made a promise, Harrow gave her one in return. Wait and see. OR the year is 1994, and Gideon and Harrow leave their small town for life in the city. OR team 69 roommates au only this time it's the 90s

"Intern the Sixth" by apocalypticTaco (33k+)

ADDRESSING THE HEIR TO THE NINTH HOUSE, OR PRESUMED EQUIVALENT: PALAMEDES SEXTUS, HEIR TO THE SIXTH HOUSE, PRESENTS HIS COMPLIMENTS TO THE NINTH AND REQUESTS A FORMAL ARRANGEMENT WHEREIN HIS MASTER WARDEN AND CAVALIER APPRENTICESHIP UNDER THE NINTH FOR FOUR YEARS IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SIXTH’S SERVICES. *Details to be discussed. Please turn to back page. Timeframe variable. Services and agreements variable upon the Ninth's request. An internship of this caliber is highly unprecedented and likely unheard of, but any information valuable to the Ninth and into the Tomb will remain undisclosed upon request; Primary experience and study is required as the Master Warden has already decided upon such being his final thesis prior to his end studies. No takebacks, no denials. Pleased to meet you. Palamedes Sextus, Heir to the Sixth and Master Warden and Camilla the Sixth, Cavalier Primary and Warden's Hand of the Library

TO THE MASTER WARDEN: FORMALLY REJECTED.

"What's Eating Gideon Nav?" by labyrinthineRetribution (40k+)

After a miserable fifteen years at Blessed Saint Anastasia's School for Girls, Gideon's luck finally changes.

"We Have Always Lived in the Apartment" by labyrinthineRetribution (171k+)

John looks up from his Jack and Coke in drunken curiosity. "What's with the face, Harrowhark?" he asks, genuinely concerned. "Contrary to popular belief," Gideon butts in, "her face just fuckin' looks like that, bitch." She tends to use "bitch" as liberally as commas when off her ass. "You're piss drunk," you shoot back. "And you, my good bitch, are just as contemptible as the day you clawed your way up from Hell." - It is Harrowhark Nonagesimus' birthday, and it only gets worse from there.

PWP (basically):

"I'll hold in these hands all that remains" by corvidlesbian (6.5k) ♥︎

“Do you want me to try?” Gideon said. “What?” “You got all hot and bothered without me trying. Do you want me to try?” Their newfound habit of cuddling gets interesting.

"sting of a wasp" by brightbolt, imperfectlyctor (42k) ♥︎

"You’re a virgin,” Gideon said, testing it out. "Huh." Harrow didn’t like the sound of that huh. She knew Gideon’s noises, and that was a thoughtful, sinister huh. That was the same huh she’d made before putting canned tuna in Crux’s work boots. Her eyes narrowed. “What.” Gideon cocked her head to the side. “Is there a reason you’re waiting?” There was no judgement in the question— only genuine curiosity. Perhaps it was this that made Harrow more inclined to answer. “I don’t have the time to look for someone new,” She shrugged. “And my available pool is… somewhat limited.” “Well,” Gideon said, with just a hint of conspiracy in those glittering golden eyes. “If you ever want to change that, you have my number.” What? What? Harrow blinked. “What?” Or: the five times Gideon and Harrow successfully bone, and the one time they don't.

"Suckle, Honey" by zoicite (7.9k)

“You crave my juice,” Gideon accused. “I do not crave your juice.” “Fuck, you do though. You went off to explore that study alone, without your cavalier, using a key that I nearly gave my life for, and then you snorted some powder that made you crave my juice! Harrow. I never would have let you sniff powder from a ten thousand year old jar.” This was untrue--Gideon probably wouldn’t have noticed Harrow breathing in a puff of jar powder until it was too late--but it sounded like something Camilla Hect might say, so Gideon went with it anyway. Camilla definitely would have stopped Palamedes from accidentally sniffing old as fuck Eighth House jarred juice addiction powder.

"Five Times We Hatefucked and One Time We Didn't" by rnanqo (8k)

“Fuck you,” you said. “Fuck me yourself, you coward.” You ran a hand through my hair, fisted it, and pulled my head up. From here I had a spectacular view of your weird blown-out seething expression, like I was the worst thing you’d ever seen. Also a view up your blood-crusted nostrils. Choice. “Maybe I will, Griddle,” you said. “Maybe I will stop fucking you over and start fucking you." Gideon and Harrow realize, abruptly, that their hatefucking is no longer hatefucking.

"a call to motion" by groundedsaucer (coasterchild) (10k) ♥︎

Harrow and Gideon watch a porno.

"put her canine teeth in the side of my neck" by stranded_star (8.8k)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus is getting a PhD and a divorce. Against her better judgment, she goes out to the bar to celebrate and meets an incorrigible, absolutely ripped salt-and-paprika butch who takes her home and gives it to her good. To her horror, it's the best night of her life, and she sneaks home with her tail between her legs. Harrow has more important things to worry about - like raising her daughter and building the next stages of her career. But when her daughter's favorite teacher, someone named Griddle, turns about to be the Gideon she met at the bar, she's forced to contend with allowing herself (and her daughter) to find the happy ending she never thought they'd have. Featuring MILF!Harrow, Teacher!Gideon, and a very amused Camilla Hect.

"The Wound That Swallows" by seelieunseelie (7.8k)

Harrow can make out an uncomfortable amount of detail about Gideon’s body beneath. Powerful, strong as ever, yet somehow vulnerable for its supplication below Harrow’s. “Are we gonna get this over with?” Gideon says in a voice softly scratchy. She blushes then when Harrow sits on the edge of the bed. “It will hurt,” Harrow says. “Yeah,” Gideon says. “I think I can handle it.”

[sloowoorants]

Thoughts After Watching Hannibal

About two months ago, I saw some Hannibal fan art on Twitter. It looked pretty cool, and I just so happened to have some free time, so I thought: why not watch the show? It's just a normal crime thriller, right?

I expected the type of show that's relatively light yet still intriguing, filled with sarcastic humor, starring a typical grumpy-but-genius protagonist. (This is vaguely the type of show that I’m generally into: Inside Job, Sherlock, House, Suits, Mr. Robot….)

I was so, so wrong.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for the bat-shit crazy fever dream of a show that Hannibal is: bizarrely artistic gore, incessant cannibalism puns, completely unpredictable romantic subplots, torturous sex scenes that feel like angry acid trips, a multitude of absolutely unhinged psychiatric conduct, esoteric cryptic dialogue which require five google searches and a whole thesaurus to understand, two lesbian murderers "milking" a guy for his sperm to inherent his family heirloom, long scenes of intense and unabashed eye-sex, clumps of dog fur sticking to sweaty bed sheets…and a literal fucking social worker crawling out of a horse, alive and breathing and everything, covered in whatever acrid substances come from a horse uterus.

I ended up watching all of Hannibal in a week, hastily devouring it in just a few sittings.

In no way am I a professional film analyst or critic, but after having stayed up for nights on end, every single one of them spent under my blanket binging episodes until devilish hours of dawn (and barely comprehending the plot from the sheer speed I was consuming the show at, but also from sleep deprivation), I have cultivated a skull full of thoughts on this blessed masterpiece, and I need to rant about it. Which is exactly what this post is.

I am going to separate this ranty-meta-ish thing (I think a “meta” is what it’s called? I’m not sure, I don’t use Tumblr a lot) into two parts: one, about the representation of morality in the show, and two, about the intimacy between Will and Hannibal. It’s not super well written, my grammar is a bit iffy, but I hope you still enjoy reading this, and remember to take everything I say with a grain of salt. After all, I am just some guy with unrestricted internet access, a keyboard, and a little too much passion for the media I love :)

Part One: Hannibal Lecter’s Morality

Hannibal loves art. There is no episode in the entire show where he doesn’t reference some artistic thing—He plays the piano, he plays the theremin, he frequents the opera, he draws, and he finds peace at the birthplace of the Renaissance, Florence. His love for art is why he kills, he transforms people he considers to be “inferior” and “ugly” and elevates them into art. He is acting out his own sense of justice, creating meaning from the meaningless.

In a way, he must have a certain degree of respect for his victims to do what he does. He could have just killed people and disposed of their body in a dumpster, but that’s not his style. Even if he doesn’t “care” about his victims in a traditional sense, there’s this unique honesty and attentive in his murders. Hannibal cares enough about his victims to make them art. And I’m not just talking about the way he displays their bodies, I’m also talking about his cooking, because a big part of art is also cuisine.

He follows a strict code of his own ethics, it’s almost like he’s acting out his “duty” to kill, to eradicate and transform the lesser “scum” of the world. To be killed by Hannibal is almost an honor, like being killed by God personally, skin to skin. Wouldn’t you feel a sense of divinity and fulfillment if God killed you with his own hands, knowing that he respects you enough to choke you himself, then turn you into an elegant display? Every kill of Hannibal’s is filled with passion – Which poses the question, does he kill out of hatred or not? When I think of violence fueled by hate, I think of sex or race based violence. But that’s not Hannibal. He kills victims he considers to be rude, yes, but is it a humiliation? Is it degradation?

This whole "elevate-swine-into-art" thing is also shown through the way that gore is generally portrayed throughout the show, and not just Hannibal’s murderers. It’s very interesting the way gore pretty in Hannibal. It’s often meticulous. It’s meaningful.

These murders are all aesthetically pleasing. For me, it creates a cognitive dissonance: on one hand, I know that these are painful, brutal murders, one the other, they’re kind of nice to look at, which makes me think—Have I ever for a second, while watching Hannibal, considered the crime scene to be beautiful? Have I ever viewed one of those scenes as art rather than gore? As an artist myself, do I understand Hannibal’s obsession with beauty? And if so, what type of person does that make me?

And I love the way this show makes us really think in Hannibal’s shoes, because of how unconventionally it portrays him as a villain. Usually, shows will provide villains with a backstory, but that doesn’t extend beyond just creating sympathy. In Hannibal, the villain is humanized. We understand him. We empathize. And what does that make of us?

Have I ever, in all seriousness, rooted for Hannibal instead of Jack Crawford? Have I ever thought someone deserved to die in the show? Have I ever looked at what Hannibal was cooking, and thought it looked delicious, despite knowing that its human flesh? Have I ever been annoyed at innocent patients of Hannibal, like Franklyn, because I viewed them from Hannibal’s perspective?

On top of that, Hannibal’s philosophy makes sense. I find myself agreeing to a lot of the things he says.

For example, this dialogue from S2e12 "Tome-Wan", when Will finds Mason Verger and Hannibal in his house, and Hannibal asks Will if he should kill or spare Mason Verger:

HANNIBAL: Murder or mercy?

WILL: There is no mercy. We make mercy, manufacture it in parts that have overgrown our basic reptile brain.

HANNIBAL: Then there is no murder. We make murder, too, it matters only to us. You know too well that you possess all the elements to make murder. Perhaps mercy, too. But murder you understand uncomfortably well.

Does Will only have the capacity for mercy because he has the capacity for murder? Does mercy only have meaning in the context of murder? Is our own compassion a reflection of our violence?

With that said, are the things that I believe to be evil still evil when I throw away my moral believes? Is morality only meaningful in my own perception? And if so, how much am I contributing to evil if I am the one judging it? Do I create the evil that I so adamantly detest? Does deciding what is murder and isn’t not murder require the ability to, and intrinsic understanding of, murder? Can the morality of life and death be so clear cut, separated into different categories?

These are the types of questions that the show makes me ask, which is part of the reason I love the show so much.

I also love how the show puts a dark turn on empathy. Empathy is way too often portrayed as one of the best traits of all time, many claim it to be the most important aspect of mankind, but Will’s empathy is what ends up making him go on a downwards spiral: He is drawn to the darkness because he can understand it. He chose to teach at the FBI academy because he gets to feel like a killer without actually killing.

It made Will miserable, being able to understand killers. It gave him all sorts of guilt and self-hatred and confliction, which was why he was so damn miserable at the start of the show. And on top of that, no one really cared about him, Alana only had a whole “professional curiosity” thing going on (yes, I know that Alana’s character is one-dimensional because Hannibal’s female characters are poorly written, but even with that in mind, I still think that a huge part of Alana’s affection towards Will was in fact just curiosity), Jack was constantly pushing Will past his limits, so the poor dude didn’t have any connections to anyone until he met Hannibal.

And after Hannibal clocks him immediately when they first meet with the whole “your  values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations” situation, Will experiences his first kill: Shooting Garet Jacob Hobbs. Ten. Times. Then he confesses to Hannibal that he liked the feeling of killing him.

But Will can’t let go of his morality, it’s the only thing he’s been able to hold on to this entire time. It’s his lifeline. He holds onto it so dearly because he needs to convince himself that he’s a good person, that he’s not a killer, and that he’s doing the right thing. Yet, he knows that letting that morality go would be so freeing. He wants to. Hannibal helps him let go of it, and we as viewers can’t help but be on Hannibal’s side, because Will’s corruption arc is so gratifying. We like it, deep down we root for it. And what does that say about our relationship with our own morality? Does our morality tie us down? Do we crave to be free?

Will’s killing style is different from Hannibal’s, though. He’s passionate, reactive, and he doesn’t care about the process of killing, or the display body (before you say “the firefly man”, I believe he was imitating Hannibal’s style instead of curating his own), as long as the person is dead. He kills them from a sense of righteousness, like a vigilante justice. Was it wrong for him to find a sense of pleasure in killing Garett Jacob Hobbs? Does finding pleasure in killing corrupt his righteousness? Is it worse to kill out of passion, or kill meticulously? Is Hannibal’s style of killing more respectful? Is Will brutal? Just because Will kills out of a more conventional moral judgement and Hannibal doesn’t, does that make him better than Hannibal?

Another way the show convolutes the concepts of good and evil is using religious symbolism.

For example, from S1e02, “Amuse-Bouche”:

HANNIBAL: Killing must feel good to God too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in His image?

WILL: Did God feel good about killing?

HANNIBAL: He felt powerful.

(Shocking that this line was from the literal second episode. This show got intense so fast.)

And Will’s quote from S3e02, “Primavera”:

WILL: God can't save any of us because it's...inelegant. Elegance is more important than suffering. That's his design.

Is God an artist? Does that justify what He does? Are we only creating taboo out of His works to comfort ourselves? What does it mean to view the world with a purely aesthetic vision?

It’s these quotes that really allow me to see from Hannibal’s perspective: To him, there is no ultimate purpose of the world, there is no end goal to achieve, just the creation of beauty, and that’s terrifying to think about. Even as an atheist, it’s hard to digest the belief that there is no purpose to anything. We spend our entire human lives looking for meaning. But Hannibal doesn’t see it that way. Life and death are just futile processes to create art, and there’s no bigger point behind it. The cycle of life is supposed to be art. In a way, he’s like the God (sounding like Hannibal here), giving people meaning by making them into art, just like how God designates meaning onto every creature he makes.

And the show has a lot of art parallels, not just with Hannibal’s murders. Here are some that I’ve noticed:

(Parallels, in order from left to right, top to bottom: Nude From Back by Picabia compared to a shot of Bedelia from the back, The Persistence of Memory by Dali compared to Will’s clock drawing, Le Double Secret by Magritte compared to how Will saw Hannibal after visual overload from light therapy, Ophelia by Millais compared to Bedelia sinking into the bathtub, Portrait of Pablo Picasso by Juan Gris compared to Will’s hallucination of himself falling apart in a mirror, Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan by Ilya Repin compared to the cliff scene.)

I’m not the only one that has noticed these. Here is cool blog that focuses on artistic references in Hannibal, they’ve also noticed some of the ones I noticed: The Art of Hannibal.

Bryan Fuller probably didn’t do these on purpose while directing. But it still unintentionally solidified this theme artistic divinity. So I think Bryan must, to some extent, understand Hannibal’s obsession with making art out of death, because of the way art is subconsciously woven into the show. I don’t know though, just food for thought.

Anyways. Will, at the end of the show, while being cradled in Hannibal’s arms, both of them covered in blood that appears black in the moonlight, says to Hannibal: “It’s beautiful.”

And all that morality fleets and becomes insignificant in the face of aesthetics.

To Hannibal, beauty is moral. To Will, morality is beautiful. Have the lines begun to blur?

Part Two: Hannibal and Wills intimacy

“For [Hannibal and Will], two people who have been wandering their whole lives through a world in which they have not really experienced any viable form of connection with another human being—because they’re two extremely unusual people—and then they meet.”

-Hugh Dancy quote from SDCC 2013

Hannibal loves will. He drew him and Will as Patroclus and Achilles. He was ready to run away with Will in S2. He surrendered himself in S3 just because Will rejected him. And lets not forget the little twitch in his face when Francis attacks will. And when this dialogue happened (S3e12, “The Number of the Beast is 666”):

WILL: Is Hannibal in love with me?

BEDELIA : Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment at the very sight of you? Yes. But do you... ache for him?

It is my belief that Will also loves Hannibal, although I understand that it’s not as agreed upon in the fandom as Hannibal’s love is. I think Will is just a little bit more reserved with affection, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love Hannibal.

But one thing is for sure—there is a lot of homoeroticism in the show:

So, whether you think the love is reciprocal or not, the show is still, to put it lightly, really gay.

Hannibal’s love for Will is dark, possessive, powerful. Will is the only one that is capable of understanding Hannibal, and Hannibal was willing to risk literally everything just for Will to connect with him. He goes to extraordinary lengths just to make Will a murderer.

But even throughout Hannibal’s ruthless manipulation, which Will eventually becomes aware of, Will still stays for Hannibal. Because deep down, Will was willing to give up his own innocence to have that connection. Because Hannibal was the only person that could really understand Will too, no one else would be able to accept his dark tendencies.

S2e02, “Sakizuke”:

WILL: I don’t know which is worse. Believing I did it, or believing that you did it and did this to me.

(I remember reading a really good post by endlessly fascinated on how Will was actually being manipulative by saying this quote. I can’t find it though. If someone finds it, please tag me!)

Will eventually grows just as obsessed with Hannibal, as Hannibal is obsessed with him. Proof: telling Jack that he wanted to run away with Hannibal, telling Hannibal that he can’t get him out of his head, and that his inner voice is starting to sound like him him, and the “where would I go?” when Hannibal tells him not to leave his side, and the “one could argue, intimately” when Chiyoh asks him how he knows Hannibal, and the “before you and after you” when Hannibal asked him where the difference between the past and the future come from…I could go on forever. Will has never felt so grounded before, not in the way when he’s with Hannibal, with him, Will can see his own reflection, and he’s never been able to see that before.

And oh, the love language between them is violence. Will tries to kill Hannibal (someone tell me how many times, I forgot), and Hannibal tries to eat Will and a plethora of other fucked up shit. But in my eyes, none of those were out of hatred. Both of them trying to murder each other is out of love, out of acceptance, and out of forgiveness.

S3e06, “Dolce”:

HANNIBAL: You dropped your forgiveness, Will.

HANNIBAL: You forgive how God forgives.

And, S3e03, “Secondo”:

BEDELIA: Betrayal and forgiveness are best seen as something akin to falling in love.

HANNIBAL: You cannot control with respect to whom you fall in love.

No one can control who they love, or who they forgive, which is why Hannibal forgives Will and stabs him in the same breath. He is forgiving, not letting go.

Will forgives Hannibal too. He forgives Hannibal way too many times, throughout all the manipulation of Hannibal. Think about just how much insanity he’s endured: drugged, gutted, encephalitis abused, hypnotized, framed for murder, a serial killer was sent after his family, had his brain literally almost eaten, and despite all that, Will still forgives Hannibal—it was not a conscious decision. We cannot control who we forgive.

If Hannibal is a fallen angel, then Will is God to him. And God is indifferent, sometimes even cruel. Like Hannibal said himself, good and evil has nothing to do with God. Will forgives Hannibal, but that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t want to hurt Hannibal; just like how Hannibal forgave Will, but still gutted him. In that moment, Will forgave indifferently, so he could get back to revenge. They both forgive like blades, they both forgive with pain.

Doesn’t God forgive through punishment? God will forgive you for your sins but you still have to go to hell, right?

Violence is a pillar of stability in their relationship, it’s how they understand each other, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, the smile on Will’s gut a permanent reminder of Hannibal’s hurt, and all of Hannibal’s scars a reminder of Will’s hurt.

I see all of their trying to kill each other is affection. Hannibal doesn’t try to eat Will because he hates Will, he tries to eat to immortalize him, to keep Will as part of him forever.

And through that violence, Hannibal helped Will let go of his morality. Will had spent forever trying to repress himself—Molly was a failed attempt to escape into normalcy. Will definitely thought about Hannibal those years Hannibal was in prison.

S3e13, “The Wrath of the Lamb”:

HANNIBAL: When life becomes maddeningly police, think about me. Think about me, Will.

Will definitely missed the hunger, the violence. We can see this though the passionate way he killed the Red Dragon. He probably held Molly’s gentle hands and desperately wanted to feel something more. To feel something dangerous. Something that could simultaneously revive and ruin him. Molly never understood him the way Hannibal did, and he will never love her the way he loves Hannibal.

He did think about Hannibal when life became maddeningly polite. He probably fantasized about what they’ve done, what they could’ve done, and the feeling of freedom when he’s with Hannibal.

And Hannibal waited for him patiently, staying exactly where he was three years ago. And when Will eventually pushed them off a cliff together, Hannibal showed no sign of resistance, and just let them fall.

“I think [Hannibal]’s feeling that embrace and that’s the first thing that he’s feeling, and even as he’s plunging into the Atlantic, he’s first and foremost thinking about the man he’s holding onto and the man who’s holding onto him.”

–Mads Mikkelsen on Hannibal’s thoughts during the final scene

Their violence is something that we as viewers may never comprehend, but we can all understand their intimacy. Isn’t it what we all want, after all, to be seen?

Anyways...

Hannibal is a great show! 10/10, would recommend. Although, the lighting kind of sucks. Bryan, if there is a season four, please make the show brighter, for the love of God.

Thanks for reading this! :)

[titleknown]

KAIJUNE 2024 #1: BLACK HOLE SUN

You know, that's the thing about the apocalypse. Everyone always acts like it's the end of the world.

The word apocalypse doesn't mean the end of all things, it means a revelation, usually of how fucked shit is. But everyone thinks it's all nuclear winter in the Mojave and Thunderdomes. It's weird how noboody ever gets beyond that. The utilities still work, infrastructure's found a way, most states are intact, hell I'm fucking baffled how the fuck they did it but the Internet Archive people and their fuckoff convoy managed to even keep the net up, even if we only can stream in 480p.

It's just a new normal of city smashing fucking god-monsters we can't do shit about but try to nudge off and clean up after their mess. Everybody knows a guy who knows a guy who got their house smashed by King Diamond or The Twist or whoever. Like politics before, but more literal this time. After the kaiju came out, it wasn't societal collapse but a long, long string of fuckups and failures like global warming on acid while things just... keep happening.

I think it's because the poor bastards are scared of the truth, after the revelation, life continues. Mostly. But sometimes... well, I was paid to write this article about Black Hole Sun, and by fucking god I'm going to write it! 

The thing got its nickname from the fact that we kept finding small towns that were fucking gone. Like, not levelled to rubble, not burnt to ashes, just fucking gone. Where there was a place, there was only dust. We figured it was a predator, picking off the weak one by one, and we found a pattern, a spiral shape, so we figured we'd intercept it, take some photos and leave.

The first sign we should have left was the sound. Usually the wake of a kaiju is very loud from everything else running away or very quiet from everything else being dead. But here, it was just... well, the closest I could compare it to was like a whale speaking in tongues, and the tongues were the old-testament kind. The crew swore they could hear it saying something something, but they'd been drinking. Probably a bad idea near a kaiju site, but if you've seen enough shit you know why it sounds reasonable.

Then we saw the environment. It was on a shitty mostly dead highway as it is, but things were just... less there. I know I'm a fucking reporter, I know I do this shit for a living and was even robbed of a fucking pulitzer for it, but I don't know shit better to say what it was like than that it was less. Everything was less itself, colors less, shape less, mass less, everything was just less!

A lot of the shit crumbled to dust when we touched it. I tried to smoke it. I wish I didn't.

It walked up on us when we were asleep. The sound was the first sign, or rather, the absense of it, a silence that rang out loud as a scream. Like it swallowed up the sounds it left behind as it came, like a boat through it's own wake. Most of the crew made it, god bless 'em, two of 'em didn't. It wasn't the ones that were drinking, no, it was if you were close enough, you were gone. Not crushed, not eaten, gone, no rhyme nor reason for why they were the two taken.

I got pictures, of the flat wastes of nothing and the phantasmogoria of the damn thing eating the world it left as it moved, and god if the fucking paycheck wasn't gratifying, but that didn't capture what it was like to see it, not really.

Grandma once said that you could see the Gods emotions on their faces better than you could people's faces, they were too big not to see. Everyone at the time thought she was a mad old bat, but now, I think I get it. When you deal with kaiju as long as I have, you can see their feelings, too tall, too lheavy for this world. 

And looking at that thing, I saw that it felt nothing. Not that it didn't feel anything, that it felt only nothing.

I don't know what it wants, I don't even think it wants anything except nothing, but god fucking dammit I hope we can find to fight back, or else...

-DW Devlin, reporter

---------------------------------------------------------

Ability Notes: they do have the ability to create massive storms of hawking radiation and localized, extremely powerful beams, but most of the time they don't really need to. Most things not only die but are simply unmade just by it walking forward and existing in the viscinity.

Bonus Trivia: They have nothing to do with Liquid Miracle, and the reason for their existence is more akin to what happens when a Ligottian law of physics dreams. Strong will and togetherness can resist its unmaking, but that is rare, and rarer still is the will that can push it back.

------------------------------------------------------

So, after being delayed for months upon months, Kaijune 2024 is finally here! In October! Better late than never (I lie to myself!) And it was this fucker who probably caused a huge chunk of the delays! The core idea was simple, paper mache orb with legs, but then I complicated it with the nightmare of attaching said legs and also doing stuff by twisting the paper I used for it to give it texture that made it a nightmare to paint. But I think it came off well.

And also, because at least one person I showed it to was confused by how I made it, it's wildly labyrinthine and dumb.In that all the Kaiju of Kaijunes 2023 and 2024 are actual physical props I made and kitbashed, 

Then I took photos of them, using wargame terrain from local game stores as the equivalent of miniature sets, and then did some heavy photomanipulation to fill out the "sky" and do wacky Shenanigans with the lighting. Complex, but I think the results end up gorgeous.

...And, in that grand (exceedingly late) Kaijune tradition, this character and all related narrative elements are under a CC-BY 4.0 license, as long as I, Thomas F Johnson, am credited as their creator. Have fun!

[beansidhebumbling]

Prologue

Warning: Non-consensual groping

*

Death would not get them she vowed. Death would not touch Feyre or Elain. Death would have to face her first.

And so Nesta Archeron began to plan.

She was going to abduct a fae.

It started in Autumn when tragedies began to pile like corpses in the village. First a potato blight, then an infestation of rats in the grain supply, finally a draft of the few, young, able-bodied men for war. Blow after blow, left bellies emptier, faces gaunter, mourning wails more common, until the stench of death began to seep into the very ground, settling heavy like a dense fog.

Nesta knew this was coming, had heard the war on the continent was getting worse from a passing peddler. Had listened to the Holy One rejoice a year ago about the retribution delivered upon a village further east, all but a blessed few dead from contaminated water...that was what they got for trading with the trickster Fae after all. Nesta could not see how joy could be found in the death of babes, no matter their supposed transgression.

The pious, rankling, callous speech moving her to pry whispers from travellers of a scourge on potatoes in the eastern village, that caused them to be pulled rancid, blackened, crumbling from the earth. Of starving families fleeing in droves, those who remained feeding on grass and worms, infected water providing the bitter relief of a faster death to green stained mouths and thin skin stretched taut over bone.

She had tried to say something at the last hall meeting, broached the issue with a village elder about maybe switching to a different tuber to plant come Spring. Had received a smarting cheek and a public reproach. Had to kneel in the square as punishment until the moon was out casting its glow upon herself and Elain, her protector now, a silent presence and warning to the Holy One that not just the moon bore witness. Her thin, white shift turned translucent as rain fell in sheets, as the greedy, beady eyes of the Holy One, staring at her from the porch of the Holy House, consumed her body. Nesta's eyes began to burn with tears she would not let fall, for herself, for all the pain that would befall the innocents, in fear for her sisters, the only people her shrivelled heart could afford to care about. Her crushing sorrow was matched by a roiling anger, rising from deep inside, a storm of her own, at prideful men hiding behind sacred texts, damning them all.

It was dawn before she was released, not before the Holy One, in the guise of fastening a cloak on her, cupped her breasts with his skeleton hands, murmuring threateningly about a virgin sacrifice if the Gods continued to curse them for their sins. If Elain saw this, she did not say and so, the sisters journeyed in silence back to the cottage, meeting Feyre as she rose to hunt.

*

With each passing night, Nesta felt the acid of panic corrode her stomach, sleep a thing shelved for brighter times. If it were herself alone, she'd flee, dive into the darkness of the night, resurface in a quaint port town, far away, a place where she might have the luxury of kindness to spare. But Feyre and Elain, always softer than she, would never abandon their father, as he had done to them, in all but body. She would not leave her sisters and so like a rabbit in a snare, Nesta felt the primal terror of knowing death was coming, and she lay trapped and helpless, directly in its path.

To atone for the sins of their existence, the village had laid out a sacrifice, thankfully animal this time, to the Mother, a desperate prayer of a desolate people, pleading for a gentle winter.  Bonfires rising high, wood cracking, like drumbeats for the frenetic, ritual dancing of the concentric circles of villagers around the Holy One, who stood murmuring lines from the ancient book, clad in the starkest white cloth, lined face and pursed lips, turned upward to the sky, arms aloft. Two pretty acolytes, hair dark and long, falling in well brushed waves stood to either side. Features so delicate and soft with blades so sharp slitting the throats of two bleating goats. Their movements were smooth, practiced, barely flinching as blood misted their faces, crimson-freckled faces screwed in the ecstasy of reverential prayer.

Nesta could have told them the Mother, much like her own, was no benevolent presence, certainly not one that could be won by a few carcasses. There was no divine being to save them, but in the swirling, and madness, and joy, dancing brought her even now, a plan began to shape, in shadows and flickers, slowly forming between leaps and twirls, madness, even by her standards. No doubt one that would see her blood spray like that of the goats. But one that might save her sisters, pay her debts to them.

If nothing else Nesta would die in a blaze, no famine stricken body, no virgin offering to unhearing Gods. A life so restrained, a death so wild, in her last moments a bearing of her soul to those that would stand witness.

Death would not get them she vowed. Death would not touch Feyre or Elain. Death would have to face her first. And so Nesta Archeron began to plan.

She was going to abduct a fae.

[steve-the-bear]

Minecraft Deities Because I Can

There are High Deities, that rule over larger domains. Every High Diety has Minor Deities attached to them, that encompass smaller pieces under their domain. Minor deity does not mean weak or unknown, simply that they have a smaller domain within anothers.

if u see anything based off of mcyt no u dont <3

Prie'ama

Prie'ama is considered to be "The Creator", known for creating and protecting the overworld. Overworlders believe Prie'ama created all realms, and most overworld cultures believe Prie'ama [or whatever name they use for Prie'ama] is the Deity Emperor, or above all other deities.

Prie'ama was not the original creator, though there are little to no records or religions/cultures that remember this.

N'xtun

N'xtun is the deity of life and death. She is believed to be the one to create souls, and then return to bring souls from their living hosts to the lands of death. She is also the guardian of the "limbo" space, a place between dimensions, most often used to house partial souls [souls of those with unfinished business, half of themselves left behind, clinging to their old life. These souls are volatile and considered dangerous, even if they don't intend to be] and be the creation space for new souls.

N'xtun is the second eldest deity. She is older than Prie'ama, though many modern cultures believe her to have come after their supposed creator.

Exdea and De'ex

Exdea and De'ex are twin deities who both reign over the domains of sleep and dreams. They are considered to be guardians and guides through the lives of living creatures between N'xtun's embraces. De'ex has closer relation to "good" or "strange" dreams, and they are often associated with pleasant premonitions and silly mishaps within dreams. Exdea is the opposite, typically related to nightmares and ominous or foreboding premonitions.

Exdea and De'ex were given the role of guardians over the End and the Overworld, respectively. They help the elder deities in their roles and are able to interact and interfere more than their elders.

Kinïstra

Kinïstra is the deity of the nether, having created both the hellish landscape and all of its residents. While the other dimensions have little to no records of her, the netherborn cherish her as their "mother," despite her lack of interaction with the netherfolk. Kinïstra, unlike the other deities, can't traverse dimensions, having been exiled to the dimension of her own creation eons prior.

It is unknown how old Kinïstra is due to the lack of record within overworld scripts and carvings. She is as old as the nether, perhaps even more ancient. She was once called Parima.

Cruor

One of N'xtuns minor deities, created to aid both N'xtun and Parima Prie'ama with the creation and destruction of their living creations. Cruor is often titled "The Blood God." Most cultures associate them with violence, bloodshed, and war. Cruor, like Exdea and De'ex, has more freedom than the elder deities to interact and interfere with mortals. Unlike the twins, however, Cruor instead picks a host, a "vassal," to bless. Their vassal carries out the more dramatic work for them, laying waste to villages and cities who dare defy them or turning the tides of battle in either sides favor single-handedly.

Cruor is a more tabboo deity in many cultures due to their association with war and bloodshed. Some cultures, such as the Piglins of the nether and the Illagers of the overworld, remember that Cruor is also the giver of life, as they control the lifeblood that flows through people and animals alike.

Heka

The deity of magic, they go by many names across cultures, but their most notable name is Heka, the deity most witches worship. In most stories, Heka is regarded as a Prometheus-type role, granting the use of magic and enchantments to mortals despite the orders of the other deities, and in turn facing a terrible punishment. Many overworld cultures portray Heka as blind, with poison, or acid, being dripped onto her forehead and rolling down her face as her eternal punishment.

Shaeol

A minor deity of Prie'ama, associated with all forms of water, from riverbeds to vast oceans. The ocean monuments are a testament of her once great influence in the overworld and the attempt at life she once created against the wishes and guidance of the elder deities. Shaeol did not have the power to sustain life for extended periods, and eventually, her people devolved beyond her control, ultimately becoming known as The Drowned.

Shaeol is known to be shapeshifter, as fluid and changing as the sea. Many stories involve Shaeol coming ashore and falling in love with mortals, their villages and people, and ways of life, only to return one day and find the place she held dear gone, either by herself or by time.

Aeshed

A minor deity of Prie'ama, associated with the earth itself, and the biomes within it. Aeshed was once known to walk the earth, going from forest to forest, biome to biome, with a gentle smile and a trail of blossoms behind him. Aeshed has not been seen wandering the earth for many generations now.

It is widely believed that Aeshed has fallen asleep in the heart of the earth or some variation. Some stories say Aeshed is merely resting from their many years of wandering, and will one day return, while others say Aeshed was cursed by a jealous Shaeol or De'ex to sleep for a thousand lifetimes, and yet others believe Aeshed has simply abandoned the overworld altogether.

Wiethesh

A minor deity of Prie'ama, associated with the wind and storms. Many stories associate Wiethesh with the Wither, either as the creator of the Wither or as the Wither itself. Most mythos believe Wiethesh has been sealed away by the other deities because they caused too much destruction upon the earth, only able to be called forth through the souls of those long past and the skulls of their infected hosts.

It is often told that stormy nights and windy gales are Wiethesh' attempt at breaking free from their imprisonment to wreak havoc once more.

Deshae

A minor deity of Prie'ama, often associated with fire and the hearth. Deshae has many appearances across cultures, some with disaster, some with the warmth of a hearth or the fire of a furnace, but many keep Deshae fairly neutral, balanced both in blazing, destructive fury, and gentle comforting warmth.

Ca'alohn

The deity of chaos. Often portrayed with horns or antlers and associated with the wild. Ca'alohn is typically considered to be wild and free spirited, oft portrayed with a voice like thunder, so that no mere mortal can hear them.

It's rumored that Ca'alohn has abandoned the peoples of the overworld in favor of roaming across the known dimensions as he sees fit. While most disasters and chaos are blamed on Ca'alohn's interference in some way, shape, or form, Ca'alohn himself has not been seen in hundreds of years.

Myx

Deity of change. They are known to have at least 4 distinct appearances, another constant shifter similar to Shaeol. Myx is often associated with horns, creepers, and divides between biomes.

[mtnkat3]

3.08pm.

I'm here my loves..... Back at the house.

Praying that's one of the last times I have to go anywhere with wh. Getting nasty with snark in public. Like .. verbal acid diarrhea. Just.. awful.

Even if I have to eat soup, chef boyardee & grill cheese or almond butter & honey sandwiches.. it'd be better than going anywhere with wh ever again. Even knowing he exists is my worst life's mistake. Bowed.

I just pray. That God forgives me. And has mercy upon my soul.

And deals with wh.. however He needs to be dealt with. Not mine to deal with anymore.

Just.. please open the gates Lord. Please.

Bowed humbly low.

Please forgive me Lord. For thinking that I knew Your Path for me. It's why I'm so carefully stepping now. To listen. And move as You Guide my each & every step.

Yes I'm hurting, struggling, scared.

But.

I made it back to the house without being injured or killed by wh & his evil.

It's saying.. a lot.

Thank You Lord. For my life. For Blessings. For getting me this much closer to my soul's precious beloved Bears . Angels . . . . .

Thank you . . . . . for loving.. wanting.. me.

I love & adore you . . . . . More than I can describe at this point.

You..... are my calm. In a geostorm of a hurricane.

Bowed. Tired. Hurting.

Needing you . . . . .

Please Father?

I'm waiting. But please?????

Yours . . . . .

Lord, Your scared, confused, frustrated but loving & listening closely carefully quietly daughter.

Your complex quirky warrior queen daughter.

~Tijgeress kat Phoenix. ✝️🌺🐾🐯☸⚓🙏🙇‍♀️🤲⌚⚡🌟🌠🚀🗝🔱⚜💝🐻🦌🧩♾🕯🧭🎄🎁💋

Tu.12.13.2022 3.28pm est.

[Random apropos gifs.]

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 565

John 1:4

DIVINE ORDER 130: WORKING ORDER 25

Joh 15:26 And when the Comforter has come, whom I will send to you from the Father, THE SPIRIT OF TRUTH WHO PROCEEDS FROM THE FATHER, HE SHALL TESTIFY OF ME. MKJV

THE HOLY GHOST IS WORKING 14 - HIS PURPOSE 9

We’ve seen how the Holy Spirit helps our weaknesses in prayers and puts passion in us for the “adornment” fitting for God’s Kingdom, and we’ve said that if you don’t have that “craving” for God’s Home, there’s problem with your Christianity, right?

Now, could you imagine why God, having invited guests to His Son’s wedding, will send someone out?

Mat 22:11-12 "When the king came to see the guests, HE SAW A PERSON WHO WAS NOT DRESSED IN THE WEDDING CLOTHES PROVIDED FOR THE GUESTS. He said to him, 'FRIEND, HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE WITHOUT PROPER WEDDING CLOTHES?' "The man had nothing to say. GW

Another “underlining” question which God was asking the man is “How could you even feel comfortable sitting amongst people with strange clothes on?”

Beloved, how would you feel if you were invited to a party but got there and found out you are the only one wearing white when everyone else is wearing green?

Think about this for a moment.

2Co 5:2,8 FOR IN THIS WE GROAN, EARNESTLY DESIRING TO BE CLOTHED UPON WITH OUR HOUSE WHICH IS FROM HEAVEN:…We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord. KJV

It’s an “acid test” that proves to God that you’ve not been regenerated, neither are connected to His Holy Spirit, if you do not yearn to put on His Glory, or if you’re comfortable with your “rags” in His home.

It’s that yearning that propels you to do all you must to get to heaven. You want to be accepted and have God pleased with your looks.

2Co 5:9 So whether we live or die WE MAKE IT OUR LIFE’S PASSION TO LIVE OUR LIVES PLEASING TO HIM. TPT

This is what Jesus meant with many of the Parables about the kingdom, where He keeps speaking of a man who sells everything he has to get the “Pearl” in the Field.

Mat 13:44 The kingdom of heaven is like what happens when someone FINDS TREASURE HIDDEN IN A FIELD and buries it again. A PERSON LIKE THAT IS HAPPY AND GOES AND SELLS EVERYTHING IN ORDER TO BUY THAT FIELD. CEV

That JOY is inspired by the presence of the Holy Ghost and is instrumental in helping you focus on the pursuit of the Kingdom without caring about the problems of this life.

1Pe 1:6 YOU ARE EXTREMELY HAPPY ABOUT THESE THINGS, EVEN THOUGH YOU HAVE TO SUFFER DIFFERENT KINDS OF TROUBLE FOR A LITTLE WHILE NOW. GW

This all points us to another aspect of the functions of the Spirit in us. It helps us SEE [spiritually] the visuals of Treasures in Heaven, or what great Treasure heaven itself is.

In the midst of all the trials, challenges and even pleasures of life, a Natural man cannot see Divine “pictures” that brings delights always to his heart.

Here is an example of Treasures.

1Pe 1:4-5 and so WE LOOK FORWARD TO POSSESSING THE RICH BLESSINGS THAT GOD KEEPS FOR HIS PEOPLE. HE KEEPS THEM FOR YOU IN HEAVEN, WHERE THEY CANNOT DECAY OR SPOIL OR FADE AWAY. They are for you, who through faith are kept safe by God's power for the salvation which is ready to be revealed at the end of time. GNB

I told you last lesson that Apostle Paul mentioned these things a lot, right?

Well, this is another one of them: scriptures we read often but with lots of exciting details within.

Php 3:7-8 BUT CHRIST HAS SHOWN ME THAT WHAT I ONCE THOUGHT WAS VALUABLE IS WORTHLESS. NOTHING IS AS WONDERFUL AS KNOWING CHRIST JESUS MY LORD. I have given up everything else and count it all as garbage. ALL I WANT IS CHRIST CEV

Isn’t this what Jesus said with that parable?

Yes!

These are things the Holy Ghost is working in True Believers right now: the capacity to see the Values in Heaven, distaste over the things of this life and passion to pursue Heaven and God’s Place.

But Paul made a salient point here too: It was the pursuit of Jesus he emphasized, not the Kingdom. Why?

Php 3:10 That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death; KJV

This brings us all around to the initial Purpose of the Holy Ghost in His dispensation: To Reveal Christ to us and in us, as shown by own Main text in these series.

We continue later.

May God open our hearts and souls to Spirit-Inspired Passions, IN JESUS NAME.

See you on Monday, as we proceed with this interesting Subtopic.

Brother Prince

Friday, September 20, 2024

08055125517; 08023904307

[deyzalee]

Dear God,

Thankful and blessed today. I woke up early with the help of my alarms. I prepared myself for 24 hours duty. I played cooking fever. I arrived at Ahmed’s house safely. I am just alone. I cared and monitored my patient with the help of Latifa and with you Oh God. I ate macaroni salad for breakfast given by Yonica because its her birthday. I scrolled my social media accounts, chatted my family and friends. Since there is no caregiver for weekends, I do some of the routines alone. I am so tired, so help me God. I ate a little of my baon which is spaghetti and a little of chicken curry for lunch. I passed stool 4 times which is watery and had an acid reflux. I ate a little of rebisco biscuit. I applied ointment on my belly part. I took medicines. I did cortex. Now, I am still monitoring my patient until end of shift. I read few pages of the Bible. Have mercy on us Oh God. Guide us always to the right path. Remove sickness, danger and negative things in our life. Answer our prayers in your perfect time. Thank you and I love you God.

[starsoakednight]

20-6-24

Day 6

I have slept for a total of 8 hours in 2 days. I feel alright, to be honest. Today in the morning, anxiety and tiredness were making me think all sorts of catastrophic thoughts of losing control and staying like this forever so much that I booked an early session with my therapist. My head felt tired but not heavy tired, more like stretched thin tired and all I could worry about if I was developing clinical depression. I felt surprisingly meh about the whole thing and that worried me even more that why was I feeling so detached. Lol. Never *ever* trust your mood and your thoughts when you are 1) tired/sleep deprived, 2) hungry and 3) its past midnight. A whole different you is operating under these conditions.

The weather was so gorgeous today. It rained and it’s been windy since- a blessing after these past days of intense heat. I take the sky very seriously and I was grateful for the weather today and for God for setting it up when I needed it the most. I took the day off from work and my seniors were also supportive even though the anxiety was making me worry about what they would say (and that is what kept me up after fajr when I realised, I had work to get up to in a few hours and I hadn’t been able to get any sleep).

Both his real self and his fantasy self are starting to feel a bit distant atleast in this moment. I think the real person is fading away quicker than I thought. When I look back and recall all the anxiety I got in our interactions (for whatever reasons), I am not keen to go back to a dynamic like that. His fantasy self seems to be narrowing to specific things too- my fantasies about him now are more “realistic” than they were before and this is how I know I am coming to terms with the reality of the situation. I think in my head, maybe I have started slowly saying goodbye. I got a little teary photographing the sky- it reminded me how I used to strategize my social media posts based on our common interests just to get him to notice or message me which he never did. I never did either, to be honest. I was so desperate for him to talk to him and so hopeful I would get my chance on my own terms. I always saw myself from his eyes and even today when I was thinking of posting the pictures I took, I wondered if he would think of me if he saw them or would he be indifferent. I didn’t post anything though. Now, I scroll past reels he has liked and try not to check for his name.

Later in the evening, I came to the realisation that the overanalysing self/side (which was probably the stretched-thin feeling in my head) and the anxiety part (the nausea, acidity and low appetite) actually had my critical voice behind them who was trying to protect me from disconnection by trying to control everything about my current state- my feelings (why are you feeling so detached all of a sudden, are you trying to avoid feeling anything), my sleeplessness (why won’t you sleep already, its 7 am!?!), my appetite (why won’t you eat normally), just so that I don’t “lose control” and maintain the façade because vulnerability is not welcomed in my house. It is either dismissed, minimized, avoided or problem solved around. Once I made that connection, I accepted myself fully and gave myself permission to just be however (confused, detached, sleep deprived) for as long as it takes. It helped. These bodily sensations are gone- I just noticed it writing this down. Feelings are wild.

[thetruthbehindtheemotions]

Envy

I am that feeling of anguish, or even anger, towards what others have and I do not. I am also considered a feeling of frustration and resentment. I am the feeling that eats away at the good things that grow in your backyard, or rather, within you. Many refer to me as the demon that nests in the body. But in reality, I am the demon that nests in the eyes. I don't like ugly things, but beautiful things. And the result is that when something beautiful grows in your backyard, it is touched by the eye where the worm resides, and that good feeling immediately withers, rots, and disappears. Still don't know who I am? I am Envy, the demon that lodges in your eyes.

I am a very intriguing feeling. Although all of you experience me, no one likes to admit when they are feeling me. After all, I am a controversial feeling, aren't I? I indicate that something positive triggers something negative.

Well, in a broad sense, or even complementary, I was generated millennia ago when Cain killed Abel. I believe you all already know this story, right? Well, when God rejected Cain's offering and subsequently accepted Abel's, Cain became envious, enraged, and that's when I emerged. As I said before, I am the demon that lodges in your eyes, and that's how I followed Cain. I settled inside him and like a plague, I corroded him from within, turning all the love he felt for his brother into anger and hatred. That's how I am, I am a destructive, acidic feeling that feeds on every good thing that exists within you until nothing is left. That is why I am considered one of the seven deadly sins. I am considered a sin because an envious person completely ignores their own blessings and prioritizes someone else's status over their own growth.

Since then, I have been living the path of Life, always looking for someone whom I can blind and make them my source of entertainment. I confess that many times I felt bad for turning a considerably happy person into a cold, proud, and selfish individual. Ah! This reminds me of the time I met my husband. It was years ago when I was once again looking for someone to have fun with when I saw him for the first time. Handsome as never before, there he was, Pride. It was as if we were made for each other. Our involvement was inevitable, and before I knew it, we were married and had our little Egoism crawling around the house. For a period of time, we were a family, happy, in our own way. However, since Egoism left us to pursue his life with Passion, which subsequently made him suffer and distanced him even further from us, Pride and I are no longer the same.

We live in constant conflict in our home, accusing each other of having failed in the upbringing of our child. Because of all this unhappiness, nowadays I don't care about anything or anyone anymore. I no longer feel remorse for destroying friendships, relationships, or whatever it may be. Because that's how I am, I am the plague that blinds your eyes, preventing you from seeing the fullness of life.

I am one of the most difficult feelings for humans to accept because most of the time, I am unconscious. This happens because I form very early in their lives. Envy arises in the first months of life in the relationship with those who feed them!

When they want more food and consequently don't have it, they cannot tolerate frustration and become angry at those who have food. And with envy of them, we want to destroy them, right?

As you can see, I am a primitive, poorly developed feeling. And to my utter frustration, I am based on the feeling of inferiority.

Now I will tell you something. This is the basis of envy: overvaluing others and emptying oneself. Thus, the desire to empty the other arises so that everything becomes equal and we don't remain alone. According to some people, I can arise within you in four specific ways:

1 - Firstly, an individual looks at an object, situation, or trait of someone that they immediately admire. They understand the importance of that trait for themselves. In other words, they see, admire, and desire.

2 - In the next moment, they make a comparison between what the other person has and what they themselves don't have. They become aware of a lack of something within themselves because they already discriminate against themselves. Here, cognitive processes are important.

3 - Then comes the third moment of envy, which is the perception - and at the same time, the shame - of a lack in oneself that was admired and valued in the other person. The realization also arises that what they desired is impossible for them to obtain.

4 - Finally, we reach the fourth and last phase: Envy is triggered by the perception of a lack within the individual. This insufficiency leads them to attack and consequentlyharbor negative feelings towards the person they envy. They may resent them, wish for their downfall, or even try to undermine their success.

Envy is a complex and deeply ingrained emotion that can have detrimental effects on both individuals and relationships. It can lead to feelings of insecurity, low self-esteem, and a constant need for comparison. It can also create a toxic and competitive atmosphere where individuals are constantly trying to outdo each other.

Overcoming envy requires self-reflection and a shift in mindset. It involves recognizing and appreciating one's own strengths and accomplishments, rather than focusing on what others have. It also involves practicing gratitude and finding contentment in one's own life, rather than constantly striving for what others possess.

Ultimately, envy is a human emotion that everyone experiences to some degree. It is important to acknowledge and understand it, but also to actively work towards overcoming its negative effects. By cultivating self-acceptance, gratitude, and a healthy sense of self-worth, individuals can free themselves from the grip of envy and find greater happiness and fulfillment in their own lives.

"Envy consumes the envious one like rust consumes iron."

Antisthenes

**********************************

Inveja

Eu sou aquele sentimento de angustia, ou até mesmo raiva, perante o que os outros têm e eu não. Também sou considerada um sentimento de frustração e rancor. Eu sou o sentimento que vai comendo por dentro as coisas boas que crescem no seu quintal, ou melhor, no seu interior. Muitos se referem a mim como o demônio que faz ninhos no corpo. Mas na verdade eu sou o demônio que faz ninhos nos olhos. Não gosto de coisas feias, mas sim de coisas bonitas. E o resultado é que, quando uma coisa bonita cresce em seu quintal é tocada pelo olho onde mora o verme e aquele sentimento bom, imediatamente murcha, apodrece e some. Ainda não sabem quem sou eu? Eu sou a Inveja, o demônio que se aloja em seus olhos.

Eu sou um sentimento muito intrigante. Apesar de todos vocês o experimentarem, ninguém gosta de reconhecer quando o está sentindo. Afinal, sou um sentimento controverso, não? Indico que algo positivo desperta algo negativo.

Bom, em um sentido amplo, ou até mesmo complementar, eu fui gerada há milênios atrás, quando Caim matou Abel. Acredito que todos vocês já conheçam essa historia, certo? Pois bem, quando Deus rejeitou a oferta de Caim e posteriormente aceitou a de Abel, Caim se viu enciumado, enraivecido e foi ali que eu surgi. Como eu já havia dito, eu sou o demônio que se aloja em seus olhos e foi assim que seguei Caim. Instalei-me em seu interior e como uma praga, fui lhe corroendo por dentro e fazendo tudo o amor que sentia pelo irmão se transformar em raiva e ódio. Eu sou assim, sou um sentimento destrutivo, ácido, que se alimenta de cada uma das coisas boas que existe em seu interior até não restar nada. Por isso sou considerada um dos 7 pecados capitais. Sou considerada pecado porque uma pessoa invejosa ignora por completo suas próprias bênçãos e prioriza o status de outra pessoa no lugar do próprio crescimento.

Desde então vivo pelo caminho da Vida, sempre a procura de alguém a quem eu possa cegar e fazer dela minha forma de diversão. Confesso que muitas das vezes me senti mal por estar fazendo de uma pessoa, consideravelmente feliz, se tornar uma pessoa fria, orgulhosa e egoista. Ah! Isso me lembra da época em que conheci meu marido. Foi há anos atrás, estava mais uma vez em busca de alguém para me divertir quando o vi pela primeira vez. Lindo como nunca, lá estava ele, o Orgulho. Era como se fôssemos nascidos um para o outro. Nosso envolvimento foi inevitável e quando me dei conta, já estávamos casados e com nosso pequeno Egoismo engatinhando pela casa. Durante um período de tempo fomos uma familia, felizes, a nossa maneira mais fomos. Porém, desde que o Egoísmo nos abandonou para seguir sua vida com a Paixão, que posteriormente o fez sofrer e o distanciou ainda mais de nós, eu e o Orgulho já não somos mais os mesmos.

Vivemos em constante confronto em nossa casa, um acusando o outro de ter errado na educação de nosso filho. Por causa disso, de toda essa infelicidade, que hoje em dia não ligo para mais nada e nem ninguém. Não sinto mais remorso em destruir amizades, namoros, ou seja lá o que for. Porque eu sou assim, sou a praga que venda os seus olhos os impedindo de enxergarem a plenitude da vida.

Eu sou um dos sentimentos mais difíceis de serem aceitos pelo ser humano, pois na maioria das vezes sou inconsciente. Isto ocorre porque eu me formo muito cedo em suas vidas. A Inveja surge nos primeiros meses de vida na relação com quem os alimenta!

Quando querem mais alimento e consequentemente não têm, não toleram a frustração, ficam com raiva de quem tem alimento. E com inveja dele, queremos destrui-lo, certo?

Como podem constatar, eu sou um sentimento primitivo, pouco elaborado. E para minha total frustração, estou baseada no sentimento de inferioridade.

Agora vou lhes contar uma coisa. Está é a base da inveja: supervalorizar os outros e esvaziar a si mesmo. Assim, nasce o desejo de esvaziar o outro para que tudo fique igual e não fiquemos sós. Segundo algumas pessoas, eu posso surgir em seu interior de quatro formas especificas:

1 - Primeiramente, um individuo olha um objeto, situação ou traço de alguém que imediatamente admira. Compreende a importância daquele traço para ele. Ou seja, vê, admira e deseja.

2 - No momento seguinte, faz uma comparação entre o que o outro tem e o que o individuo não tem. Ele toma consciência de uma falta de uma coisa sua porque já o discrimina. Aqui o processo cognitivo é importante.

3 - Aí se dá o terceiro momento da inveja, que é a percepção - e ao mesmo tempo a vergonha - de uma falta nele que foi admirado e valorizado no outro. Surge aí, também, a constatação de que aquilo que desejou, é impossível de ser obtido por ele.

4 - Logo estamos na quarta e última fase: A inveja é disparada pela percepção de uma falta no individuo. Essa insuficiência faz com que ataque e consequentemente espolie o objeto invejado para fazer desaparecer a diferença que foi percebida.

Numa luta secreta e constante, aquele que se sente insuficiente tenta esconder sua vergonha de ser incapaz. Assim, procura evitar qualquer situação que o faça sentir mais humilhado, ele ataca antes de ser atacado. Isto é, ele compete sozinho. A competição é um hábito do invejoso, pois ele tem dificuldade de receber ajuda, fazer junto e cooperar. Essa foi uma lição que aprendi ao longo desses milhares de anos. Eu sempre estive competindo sozinha, não contra o mundo, mas sim contra a mim mesma. Sempre achei que o que eu tirava dos outros me beneficiava, mas eu estava enganada. Em vez de me beneficiar, eu só estava alimentando cada vez mais o vazio que sentia, e ainda sinto, por não ter sido uma boa mãe e uma boa esposa.

Se prestarem atenção na qualidade dos objetos, pessoas ou situação pela qual sentem inveja poderão compreender melhor o porquê de se sentirem incapazes de conquistar. Neste sentido, a inveja é um espelho que revela uma parte de quem são, onde estão e para onde querem ir. Saber onde querem ir é a condição básica para sair da imobilidade. Por isso, se aprenderem a reconhecer os padrões emocionais que sustentam sua inveja, poderão torná-la um método eficiente para diagnosticar suas faltas, ou melhor, nossas faltas. Desta forma, poderão transformar a inveja numa força inspiradora de conscientização, no lugar de um sentimento apenas desagradável.

Talvez não possam modificar nada ao seu redor. Mas, se pararem para aprenderem com seus sentimentos negativos, poderão mudar as suas atitudes mentais e atrair o novo para suas vidas.

"A inveja consome o invejoso como a ferrugem, o ferro."

Antístenes

[the-goth-catte]

†† BLACK MASS @ PANDEMONIO || 0 4 . 2 3 . 2 3 ††

Ghost - Call Me Little Sunshine Synthetixxx - Falcification (Mental Discipline Remix) Aiboforcen (ft Mari Kattman) - In My Arms (Mental Exile Remix) Tokyo Rose / Pylot / Essenger - Out of Luck Ultra Sheriff - Mechanical Bass Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit (Fury Weekend Remix) Pixel Grip - ALPHAPUSSY Lights of Euphoria - Here Comes the Rain (Torrential Mix) SITD - God's Blessing Die Krupps - Robo Sapien Lords of Acid - I Sit on Acid Project Pitchfork - Full Contact Combichrist vs Lady Gaga - This Dance Will Fuck You Up KMFDM vs Front 242 - Professional Headhunter Qntal - Veni (Filthy Floor Mix) Mechanical Moth - Black Queen Style GLAS - Gud Ayria - Missed the Mark (Project Pitchfork Remix) The Cruxshadows - Marilyn, My Bitterness Siouxsie & The Banshees vs The Revolting Cocks - Happy House of the Horny Ministry - We Believe (Silk Wolf Rework) Combichrist - Throat Full of Glass (Computer Club Remix)†† NIN - Sin SITD - The Devil's Tongue Faderhead - Dirtygrrls Dirtybois (Modulate Remix) Celldweller - Heart On (Aesthetic Perfection Mix) Suicide Commando - Hellraiser (Agonoize Remix) Metallica vs Sisters of Mercy vs NIN - Reflection of Puppets SPOCK - Never Trust A Klingon (Verfluchte Remix) Apoptygma Berzerk - Mourn (Mesh Remix) VNV Nation - Honour 2012 (Noizetrain Live Rework) Assemblage 23 - Automaton Covenant vs Boney M - Daddy Dead Stars Lights of Euphoria - True Life (Resurrection) Ayria - Big City Lullabies (Aesthetische Remix) VNV Nation - Wait Eisfabrik - Maschinen (Rob Dust Version) Corlyx - Lace and Latex Lord of the Lost - Blood & Glitter (Faderhead Remix) UnterART - Ugly X-Rx - Virus Infect Rotersand - Merging Oceans (Neuroticfish Remix) Neuroticfish - The Bomb NIN vs Faderhead - 69 Freaks Closer Orgy - Opticon Mortiis - Sins of Mine (Apoptygma Berzerk Extended Version) David Bowie - Magic Dance

[electroencephalographic]

STOP TALKING TO HER | 7.18.23

last light catches a radio tower sky gleams white songbirds in the trees, in the water, across the lake and yet, acid in my heart O sovereign Lord, why do the wicked still breathe this same air?

their burning hands leave scars their burning tongues stifle breath, slit throats, break bones in the dark they bring the dark with them and they leave it behind

"bless your enemies, bless and do not curse" but how, Lord, how? my spirit calls for broken necks, a car accident, a house fire something quick or slow and painful I'm not picky it's what comes after that counts

"pray for those who mistreat you" but not for their demise not for food poisoning, sudden illness, stage four cancer for their repentence, turning away, returning to You, reconciliation and not a freak accident, hail stones and lightning a sudden violent act of God

"vengeance is Mine, I will repay" when, when, when? sinkhole, explosion, wild animals (vultures diving, landing on the winter ice) lightning strike before their day in court when, Lord, when?

the breeze hums across my ears and I look over the water imagining trash bags, rope, cinder blocks my grinding teeth and water against the dock how long, how long? how many tears, how many lives? You know the damage better than I, You grieve deeper, love fiercer and yet─────

Lord, give me patience because if You give me strength I'm going to need bail money, too

[godsnameisjoy]

ACID

Date: 22 March 2023

Duration: 50 minutes at 11:59 PM

Depth:

Last night’s meditation had more involuntary shaking than other recent night time meditations. It felt so good to be meditating with lights off and after everyone in the house had fallen asleep. No one was watching me. I didn’t have to be conscious of my appearance.

The morning meditations in the temple don’t have the same feel just yet. At night, I meditate like no one is watching. At the temple in the morning, I still haven’t lost all my inhibitions. Fortunately, I seem to be getting there at a decent pace.

Regularly experiencing Peace during meditations has whet my spiritual appetite for more. I wish I had a glimpse of an optimally still mind. The undying effervescence of mind evident in an endless stream of images passing one’s attention, is evidence of movement. If the mind were optimally still, there would be freedom from imagery production. I crave for such freedom.

Peace is like an oxygen rich, pollution free, cool breeze for the mind. Of course, I can’t get enough of it. It is one of the reasons I have added a morning meditation to my daily routine. However, I am beginning to learn a bit more about Peace. It is a strong medicine. One can’t have Peace until after spending a considerable amount to time practicing and perfecting calmness of mind.

Peace isn’t a dilute detergent for the mind. It is concentrated and can corrode. It corrodes everything that doesn’t help the meditator with spiritual growth. In my case, it is nearly everything I think about. All my thoughts during waking hours and all my dreams during sleep, can be trashed. Not one thought or dream takes me inward. All my thoughts and dreams pull my attention outward. ‘Outward’ is where God is absent. Inward, is a different story.

I wish for Peace to corrode my mind to the point of optimal stillness. It is a huge blessing to have a little bit of guaranteed Peace during one’s meditations. I wish for an even bigger blessing. I wish Peace would still my mind.

Closing with a quote about Peace being a powerful chemical:

“Each time a swarm of worries invades your mind, refuse to be affected; wait calmly, while seeking the remedy. Spray the worries with the powerful chemical of your peace.”

-Paramahansa Yogananda

[birdsongvelvet]

I was having fun making deranged crap on NeuralBlender all of a year and a half ago, so I thought I'd try these prompts on Bing AI Image Creator because that thing gives insane results and it's scary how much progress has been made in this whole thing in a year.

The Sims 3: Trap House

The best Simpsons episode

L O L that it produces the monorail episode. That is correct.

Adorable rainbow beaver Neopet

Harry Potter and the Gigantic Floating Orb

Oh god why am I awake so late at night

Super Mario Kicks Your Ass Into Oblivion

Obama pyramids (had to use something else because Bing wouldn't allow it)

The Wiggles on acid

Zoom call with Aragorn

Blockbuster Video reopens in 2022

Seduced by the Crusty Sea Captain romance novel (lmao I love that it still can't do text at all)

Les Miserables Disney movie

Morbius wins every Oscar

Blessed big bag of Mini Eggs

Christmas at my grandma’s house

The Sims 2: Toilet Mods

Wordle for Nintendo DS

Hug a Pig for Nintendo DS

Remembered that Neuralblender exists. They have a new AI engine that isn’t as good at making trippy art but is really good at making video game box art, movie posters, album covers etc, and it only takes seconds now. So I’ve been going way overboard making weird crap.

The Sims 3: Trap House

The best Simpsons episode

Adorable rainbow beaver Neopet

Harry Potter and the Gigantic Floating Orb

Oh god why am I awake so late at night

Super Mario Kicks Your Ass Into Oblivion

Obama pyramids

The Wiggles on acid

Zoom call with Aragorn

Blockbuster Video reopens in 2022

Seduced by the Crusty Sea Captain romance novel

Les Miserables Disney movie

Morbius wins every Oscar

Blessed big bag of Mini Eggs

Christmas at my grandma’s house

The Sims 2: Toilet Mods

Wordle for Nintendo DS

Hug a Pig for Nintendo DS

[tomerge-is-science]