#is there a god of technology I can pray to
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wrensucksratbrains · 10 months ago
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Please god give advice.
Okay so I'm currently going through the process of making my laptop all cool (and boosting my ego a bit) and I've switched from chrome to firefox but I'm still using google as the search engine. If anybody has any recommendations for search engines please LORD tell me.
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yanderedrabbles · 4 months ago
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How about if the reader (that's us) were Samara Morgan (from the movie The Ring)?
Y'know what, I can see it. Chronically online loser boy with a fixation on horror manages to obtain an old VCR tape that's supposedly cursed. When it comes, he's practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. He went to the thrift shop all on his own to get a VCR to watch it on and everything!
When he pops the tape in, all that excitement drains away. He was expecting something spectacularly creepy, something he could brag to his buddies on r/GenuinelyHauntedGoodies about. Instead it's just a low quality tape with shitty b-roll and bad sound.
When the phone rings the second the tape ends, he assumes it's the pizza guy getting lost again.
"I told you, it's Elm Street. Not Eve-"
"Seven days..." Your voice is scratchy with static and his heart jumps in his chest.
"Yo, I think you've got the wrong numb-"
Click.
For someone so into horror, he's real slow to pick up on the signs in his own life. Nightmares about a well and a dead girl? He just had too much Mountain Dew before bed. Doors creaking in the middle of the night? Must be the humidity messing with the hinges. The guy who sold him the tape calling him in a panic two days before his obituary shows up in the paper? Weird, but definitely a coincidence.
It's only when the tape starts playing on its own that he starts to get a little sketched out. It's probably just the VCR being old and stuff, right? He forces the tape out of the slot and the screen goes black. See? Just the side effects of old, obsolete technology. He's halfway out the door before he hears it.
Click.
He freezes. He can hear the static again, the sound of leaves crunching under your feet. He turns and there you are, getting closer and closer to the screen, your dress soaked and sticking to your skin.
Holy shit. Holy. SHIT. Haunted dead girl and she's a total babe.
When you put your palms on the glass and start pushing your way into the real world, he almost can't believe his luck. It's finally happening! A genuine haunting! He's been waiting for years.
You expect him to scream, to run away, to start praying to a God he only half believes in. Instead he squats down so you're on eye level and asks...
"Can you do the back bend thing from the Exorcist? 'Cause I think that would be like so hot."
You growl, throat still waterlogged. He tuts and waves the tape in front of your face.
"Full words babe. You want to keep haunting people right? Want to get back to your cozy little well?"
He looks you over and can barely believe you're real. A hot girl on her knees is his living room? Hell fucking yeah!
"Listen up hot stuff. You do what I say and I won't crush your little tape into dust, 'kay? I'll even let you keep killing people in your spare time, if it's that important to you."
You blink. What is wrong with this guy? You've seen plenty of coping mechanisms, but this is just taking the piss.
He gets impatient waiting for you to answer. "Fine. If you want to do things the hard way..."
He stands and brings the tape down on the edge of the coffee table. Hard. The plastic cracks right along the centre and small black chips scatter across the room.
You flinch and pull backwards. He follows you, opposite edges of the tape in each hand like he wants to snap it straight in half.
"What do you say gorgeous? We got a deal?"
There are some things not even a ghost is equipped to deal with.
"Fine," you rasp, "Deal."
"Sweet!" He shoves the tape in his back pocket. "Now about the back bend thing..."
The world is full of freaks and horrors. And you make the mistake of thinking you're the only one.
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[What popped into my head when I read the ask]
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widowsofchaos · 11 months ago
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𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬
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synopsis: your menstrual cycle always pushes you to pure hysterics, thankfully your entrusted doctor is always there for you.
pairing: dark!loki laufeyson x brown!reader
ao3 // victorian au
warnings: dubious consent (slight sexual grooming), vaginal fingering, oral, nefarious medical practice, motional grooming.
a/n: for @cake-writes . I love you so much. :) did you know that in the Victorian period, physicians would perform pelvic massages that involved clitoral stimulation with early electrical vibrators to cure hysteria? traditional pelvic massages had been conducted for thousand of years, until western technology caught up. Dr. Silver Tongue prefers the old fashioned methods, hehe. hope ya’ll enjoy, this has been a draft for over 2+ years!
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Spilling ichor is a woman’s curse.
Even worse, the womb begins its horrors at the precipice of girlhood. The excruciating pain that follows in its wake, so intense it feels as if fingernails are clawing at uterine walls.
Screams and wails for God’s sweet mercy, for the pain to cease. Bodies shivering in sweats, left so fatigued that one will rot away in bed. Praying under your breath, begging to just die.
Fits of rage and delusions—- once, at the high of your agony, you thought demons were crawling through your pink wallpaper, ready to devour you. Riddled with anxiety—- paranoid of everything.
Girls call it hell. Doctors coined it hysteria.
It’s nearing noon. He’s late.
Rattles of wheezes knock against your cavity, eyes sheening wet, as your bodice sinks and molds against the mattress. Lazily picking at your reddish cuticles, and the scent of copper lingering in the air.
The compulsive urge to throttle your bodice up and down in possessed fashion against the bedding, to gnash at the air with your canines, and howl —- perhaps, your calls would beckon him.
Groans slip from your mouth, as your abdomen is throbbing and swollen. Counting sheep mindlessly, trying to inhale deeply the packaged herbs that were prescribed to you —- but nothing is working.
The moans become more undignified. Your face is scrunching up, with tears kissing your lashes.
Faint footsteps creaking against the wood flooring, and voice muffled—- a tired gasp of relief and want escapes you. Strained whines stretch and bubble at the pit of your throat, eyes hawking your door.
The knob turns and creaks open—- what a glorious sight, to be greeted by emerald hues, and that pretty smirk. Those lovely cheekbones, and smooth ivory skin.
The dull glow of the sun illuminates through the heavy stitched curtain, and through the bedroom, with pretty pink wallpaper—- but the light shines his eyes ever so gracefully. Angelic.
A courteous bow of his head, that black hat over-casting his brow; lean and stands tall in such poise. Followed by your father, imposing and watchful.
Both can see you are too weakened to speak pleasantries, but can only greet them with a small smile and lazy eyes. Your father nods and leaves you both alone, but you could have sworn for just a glance, your father’s eyes are sharp from the sliver of the door.
A click of the door, and the air shifts.
He’s smiling with a hum. Ever so the gentleman, he lifts his hat off. He puts his leather gladstone bag gently by the edge of the bed, sits his hat on the nightstand, and begins to unbutton his long coat.
Loki holds his coat by the collar, neatly folding and placing it over your velvet chair.
It’s a quiet routine.
To be honest, this is the highlight of your day. Life of a curious socialite, stuck in your overbearing parents’ manor, primed to be a proper young lady, and young eyes to see only through a theological veil.
Dr. Laufeyson is a kind, and gracious man.
He came into your life last year. The menstrual cycles have gotten worse, and it has begun to worry your parents. He was recommended by your neighbors, the Maximoffs.
He is quite different from any man you have met.
“Hello, my dearest.” His voice is liquid smooth. His hand captures yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips. Mustering all the strength to speak, “Hello, doctor.” A bashful smile soon drops to a quivering frown.
A sharp pain that slices at your gut prevails.
Loki tauts sympathetically.
His slender fingers graze gently against your thighs, feathery touch. By the glide of his palms, he lifts your sheath. Cupping the meat of your thighs, the pads of his thumbs denting, already memorizing the sore points.
It’s an unspoken ritual.
How salacious to undress an untouched lady of society —- he barely takes his eyes off of yours. Heat radiates off of you in waves.
Shivers of shyness and an foreign need for want sweeps over the hills of your legs. It is wrong for a man to touch an unwed girl.
But he is a doctor, your doctor. He has to inspect your body. He has always assured you that his touch has always been for the good of your health.
Unusual methods Loki practices. Not like any doctor you had as a growing girl. Over the time, you have known Loki, he has bathed you, fed you, and massaged you all through the cycles. So intimate, yet not befitting of your unmarried status.
Any remnants of shame melts away as his bare palms begin to massage your thighs, maneuvering your legs to part. With an expert flick of the hem of your undergarments, dragging the now stained white fabric down, and off from your body.
A strong scent of blood fans the air, making you wince at the smell—- but Loki doesn’t deter. No sign of revulsion, you watch through your lashes—- he moves with a calm focus.
Loki’s presence has been comforting.
The way he speaks with such eloquence. Speaking to you as he would to an equal, rather at you. It’s natural to him to see you as you are, instead of a porcelain doll to be seen, not heard.
Conversations of shared love of literature, and the arts. His charming words bloom warmth inside you. He has a taste for histories, and has taught you the lessons he has learned back as a young man in university.
It is not for a girl to learn academic skills, for it is more important for boys to gain knowledge. But Loki told you many things—- and in return, you confined to him.
There were many occasions where Loki has found you forlorn. The root of your problem is your father, being overbearing, and callous. Either you weren’t being dutiful enough in your responsibilities, and pressuring the idea of marriage.
Loki would comfort you, tell you that a man should not speak so cruelly to his daughter. Private conversations that bordered on flirtatious tones—- how pretty you are, and that such a cherub face shouldn’t be dew with tears.
He is your only companion. You don’t encourage yourself to socialize in the circles your family frequent in, often seeking your solitude—- many high societal folks are too boring, and vain.
But Loki is colorful and adventurous. He speaks of wonder. He is not like any other man you had the displeasure of meeting —- boring sons of the men who work with your father. Stuffy and shallow men who only want a brood mare and a slave for a wife.
Loki excuses himself, as he walks to the wash stand perched near your vanity. Putting the stained underwear in the nearby basket. Rolling up his white sleeves up to his elbow joints, readying to fetch the wash basin and pitcher.
Loki’s fingers pat the smooth glide of the pitcher, humming contently—- the water is still warm. Quickly, and securely, he grabs the handle, begins to pour the lukewarm water into the basin.
The anticipation is intense. Breathing heavily now, a filthy part of you yearn for this touch. To feel his bare smooth fingers fondle with your mound, the sensation of his hands bathing your wet pubic hair, and his fingers slipping between your folds—-
The haze is ripped from you as he feels his knuckles caress your cheek. Shyly, you sink more into your chest, your lips purse into a coy smile. Loki towers over you as a gentle giant, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth.
In one hand, he puts the basin down on the nightstand, and on the other hand with a towel. Loki leans down, unraveling the towel, and maneuvering it underneath your bum.
The dull ache of him lifting you makes you whine. Loki shushes you, his thumbs stroking the path between your inner thighs and lower belly.
He turns to retrieve a clean rag and the soap.
Loki seats, dipping his palm in the water, twirling the red soap. Soap suds form and the scent of the carbolic solvent is heavenly.
His hand nears and the droplets rain on your abdomen, earning a sigh of relief from you. Rubbing the bar of soap in circular motions on your pubic bone, diving between your vaginal lips, soaping up your bush—- it was simply amazing.
Your head leans back into your pillow, practically moaning at the feeling—- at the feeling of his hand, and the sensation of being cleaned.
The dried crust of blood now being scrubbed away by the accompanying wet rag—- you didn’t even realize Loki moved to soak it, too immersed in the cleansing.
Completely lathery now, the towel underneath you sodden, and the water in the basin crimson. Loki puts the soap in the basin, it sinks.
The rag feels nice, soaked in warm water, washing away the excess of soap. Loki wrings the wet rag, the water dripping into the basin.
Washing away the soap from your mound, Loki’s thumb simultaneously stroking between your folds, ensuring there are no remnants of soap.
Cheekily, his fingertips slither more into your sopping hole. Tender and swollen, Loki’s two fingers flex slowly into your quim. Halting at the sound of a whine, but resumes when you mewl under your breath.
Loki muses to himself, delights that your whimpers are akin to a kitten. His fingers curl and bend as he sinks deeper inside you. Leisurely, his fingers twist— staining his fingers red.
“I do believe you are due for your massage.” Loki spoke with a silky husk. He spread his fingers, roving over your thighs, heavily petting you. A gasp leaves your mouth, as Loki’s fingers fuck you a little faster.
“Such tension.” Loki says with an empathetic smirk. You huff of breath, a strained moan. Smug satisfaction floods Loki, his smirk morphs to a pearly grin.
He playfully clicks his tongue, “She weeps on my fingers.” Loki can feel your essence dripping, coating his knuckles now. You’re panting into your pillow, as a thirsty stray, eyes pinched shut.
Your muscles are tightening around his fingers, sucking him inside, needing more. Curling at the soft spongy spot that sparks fluttery delight, jolting your head up, eyes moon-wide.
Chin to chest now, mouth gaped in a lazy O, unabashed wanton moans. Toes curling against the bed sheet, as fresh blood coats your thighs, and Loki’s thrusting hand.
Your hair clings to the beading sweat of your forehead, gripping the wrinkled sheets. Unabashedly, your hips thrust and follow Loki’s electric thrusting.
His fingers flee from your thigh to your bush, playfully his thumb and index split it open, as he slows down his fingers. His eyes never leave yours, as the pad of his thumb begins to play with your clit.
You nearly choke on your breath, you inhale so deeply, it feels like your belly caves against your ribs. Leisurely and purposefully, Loki does it slow, leaving you in desperation.
Whimpering for him to move in haste. Edging you just near the cliff, but not yet there. The sharp strain of your menstrual blurs with pleasure— so unladylike of you, to be as a starving animal, but it relieves you greatly.
You crave it, his touch, his scent—- you adore him. How lovingly his eyes bore into yours, as you lose yourself. The flesh of your thighs shiver, the knot in your belly tightening, making you whine.
“Yes, my sweetling.” Loki whispers, as your body twists, and your toes curl, “Release your pain.”
A flood of pleasure washes over your body. Your head tilts back as your mouth hangs open. Throat clenching but no sounds, just an airy gasp. Eyes pinching shut, and nose scrunching.
The euphoria of your orgasm is sensational—- you’re delirious with it. Chest heaving and hands clasping at the air, giggling with relief. Loki softly seethes his fingers from your moist cavern.
Wiping his finger clean with a towel, as your erratic breathing simmers down. He finds it amusing to see you flustered, he can see your bashfulness seep through—- down-casting your gaze, staring at your legs.
In a second, your eyes flutter upwards, to catch his penetrative stare. Loki’s hand dents into the bedding, right next to your forearm, more so trapping you.
His nose just hairs away from yours, his warm breath fanning your face. It only fuels you more.
“Faring well, darling?”
All you can do is nod, with a titter.
-
Placid ease settles over you. Comfortable and clean. Not yet in your undergarments, Loki says that it’s best to air you out, with your nightgown wrinkled at your midriff.
Loki rummages through his bag, searching through his medical equipment, to grasp the dark green bottle.
Loki grabs the bottle by its neck from his bag. Revealing brown printed lettering on crismon wrapping, Loki unplugs the cork. It catches your eye, it makes your nose scrunch.
Laudanum.
A very strong poison that your palate has not yet been fully accustomed to. Over the months, Loki has insisted that you drink this in small doses.
Very small doses.
Loki spills just a little more than a drop into the spoon. The reddish-brown liquid wafting by your nose, you groan childishly, but you make no fuss. Sweetly, he puts the spoon into the cave of your mouth, your lips wrinkling into a pout.
It’s so grotesquely bitter.
“I know,” he chuckles, “but now you can rest.” His words make the drink’s icky taste more appealing, for he does it to ensure you are content, and comfortable.
-
The laudanum has settled in your belly, and lulled you to a slumber. A cocktail of poppy, morphine and codeine. Administered for the most severe of pains.
Loki seats in silence, watching your chest fall to a steady rhythm of breath. He smiles. Loki muses to himself, you look like a sleeping beauty.
A smile forms at his mouth, relishing in the granted opportunity. His slender hands flex expertly, hovering over your belly, to your cotton-clad chest.
Loki twirls and unties the strings of your nightgown between his fingers. Revealing your bare chest, plump brown breasts display. He whispers marvelous under his breath. Tilting his head downwards, his teeth scrape your skin.
Every chance there is of you falling to a pacified sleep to the poison, Loki snatches the chance to taste you. His lips leave open-mouthed kisses, littering your breasts. Inhaling your essence as he ravages you. His warm wet tongue licks and twirls against your pebbling nipple.
His nose traces your skin down to your navel, to your abdomen, and finally to your lower pelvis. The scent of faint copper hits his nose, accompanied by the fresh scene of carbolic.
He doesn’t mind. Rather, Loki enjoys your blood connecting with his palate. Leaning more to your core, Loki’s pink tongue slithers out between his lips, and flicks at your clit.
His sculpted nose connects with your mound, his lips now suckle on the hood of your clit. Grazing his teeth ever so cheekily, earning a small wheezing pants.
You stir in your sleep, your body reacting to the pleasure he’s pulling from you —- as if he tugs on the silk rope, snagging the knot in your belly.
A savage urge overtakes him. Loki bites the supple brown flesh of your thigh—- nibbles melt to a few pecks, then back to devouring you.
Loki has plans. Too sweet and pure to let go of—- oh no, he yearns for you. The chase for you has heightened. Monthly visits can no longer sustain him.
Loki intends to ask your father for your hand in marriage. His income is more than satisfactory, able to provide you a life of comfortability, and passion. As a wolf who must tear apart his prey from the inside out, to ruin you— possessive over his prey.
None of his female patients have bewitched him. All were so eager for him to defile them, so haughty and pompous. Neither of them saw beyond his beauty.
But you, ever so sweet, only sought out a friend, and how easily you entrusted him. And Loki must enact his plan now. Last month, as he walked up the stairs to your room, he overheard your father discussing with your mother, over the prospect of marriage for you.
Loki has already purchased a ring, waiting in a velvet box.
He has already begun stripping the petals of your modesty. Small stepping stones to soon deflowering you completely. His cock swells at the mere thought.
Your velvety lips tug by the scrape of his canines. He moans a gust of hot breath, this sinful act causing your body to quiver unconsciously.
Loki’s pink tongue slurps your folds into his mouth, back to sucking on your clit. His lips are wet with your slick, and, menstrual, the corners of his mouth with splotches of red.
An impulsive urge vibrates from his knuckles to his fingertips.
Loki’s fingers itch with compulsion. Instead of sweetly plunging inside you—- oh, he thinks, an act done with gentility. But, I cannot awaken her from slumber. We have not yet reached this stage of our courting.
Traditionally, a doctor must massage his patient’s genitalia, not have his fingers explored, as he has done so freely. But, ever so naive and sweet, you do not know any better—- to you, Loki is simply doing his job.
A chaste darling, to approach you with the advance of tasting you, would have had you flying to your father. No—- he must break you down, piece by piece.
He stifles the thought, keeps his fingers at bay. Loki’s mouth keeps eating at your weeping welt, his warm tongue flickering against your sensitive clit. Unconsciously, your hips shutter gently against his mouth, spasming in your slumber.
Loki can taste your essence, moaning at your taste hitting his tongue. His eyes rolling in the back of his eyelids.
He turns his face a bit, still attached to your core, pecking small kisses on your inner thigh.
-
Loki dips his palm in the now chill bowl of water, snagging the sodden rag. Squeezing in his tight grip, water dripping, and splashing, a bit of soap is left.
Wiping away your essence, and ichor. Soothingly caressing your inner thighs with the rag, until all is gone. Loki puts the rag back, standing to his feet, as he goes to wash his mouth.
A simple routine where he finds peace. It’s a quiet shared between you two.
Patting dry his hands with a cotton white towel he found from one of the vanity’s drawers. Quietly and leisurely, Loki walks with a stride towards your bed. Standing over you, admiring his work.
A familiar routine: placing a rag inside your underwear, snuggling and cladding your mound, tying the strings to your nightgown, and pulling the rest of the fabric down your body.
Loki’s checks your pulse—- a perfect rhythm. Redressing himself, a swell of pride casts him. The sensation of your velvety core still dancing on his tongue. With a click of his bag, and flick of his coat buttons—- Loki begins his departure.
Softly closing your bedroom door, Loki walks down the stairs. His ears catch a few hushed words, one of them is marriage. No doubt, they were conversing about you.
As Loki reaches the bottom of the stairs, from his side-eye, he can see your father and mother waiting in the family’s living space.
“Ah, Dr. Laufeyson.” Your father stands from his chair with a weak grunt. A peculiar strain upon his face, he can’t meet Loki’s eyes.
“My apologies, but we cannot afford your services,” your father stammers at the sight of Loki’s pinched brow. “We had no other choice, as you know our daughter can be ill—” his panicked tone is interrupted.
Loki tilts his head, those green eyes ever so observant, a slick smirk curls. Savoring the sight of this man squirming.
“And how would you propose we solve this dilemma?”
“We can pay you in food, I can provide from my garden.” Your mother’s fragile voice pleads, standing to cling to her husband’s arm. Her fingers wrinkled his sleeve. Her eyes were blood-shot red. “You are a kind man, please understand.”
A memory of your bliss-stricken face flashes before his mind, and it provokes a breathy hum. An opportunity delivered to his feet by fate itself.
“Perhaps, I have a solution to satisfy both our needs.”
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princess-charlie-of-hell · 4 months ago
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Those two have tormenting my mind FOR THIS WHOLE MONTH holly shit, like okay i already was fine about their chemistry and such around the pilot era but now is JUST AAA- genuinely brainrot after my 4 year break from hazbin. I have soo much talk about it and just HGKHKHHH soo much i wanna see with those two idiots in the show (affectionate). But honestly i already know people talked about it but eh fuck it.
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LIKE OKAY FIRST OF ALL EPISODE 1 LIKE AM SORRY ALASTOR OUT ALL OF THE CHARACTERS?? DOES A FREAKING COMERCIAL ON TV EVEN DO HE HATES TECHNOLOGY, also home boy why do you have so many photos of Charlie????
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SECOND OF ALL freaking episode 5 MAN I CAN'T genuinely i haven't laughed and giggle like that in forever like lucifer getting pissed off because Alastor was getting close to Charlie only to turn into a musical about how he's a better person then her father who can offer to her everything and basically saying straight to lucifer that "you're daughter calls me daddy, bitch" LIKE HELLO??
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EPISODE 7 I- no comments every time i rewatch genuinely i thought that she was just about to kiss him just so he can shut up about he's nonsense and stupid jokes, like freaking straight up she was having a break down while he was just smiling like a gremlin and not listening to whole context other then just what he hears which i can already imagine this is what he heard in he's mind "Yeah i'm having a break down right now bla, bla, bla... my girlfriend just keep the biggest secret since we bla, bla, bla and now heaven is bla, bla... I think this is you're perfect opportunity to make a deal with you and repay you later with something special"  And then their the half of the episode where basically everything should explain for itself like come on even freaking Rosie calls him out on that and HE EVEN GIVES HER THE FREAKING MIC something that is part of him like DUDE.
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Oh dear episode 8 finale was honestly for me the cherry on the top, seeing Charlie soo happy that Alastor was alive and the fact she didn't even haste to hug him just made my heart melt l like soo much freaking joy from her. Also my brother was starting having a freaking breakdown saying that "Oh am gonna be the one who's pulling on the strings" yeah honey no, hate to break to you but she is fixing you! don't you dare come up with random poor excuses for getting feelings for her.
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Seriously am speechless soo many scenes that just no comments.
I NEED season 2, praying on knees we are getting more of them hopefully, like genuinely if she the one who fixes he's scar and the have a moment alone I- or a small kiss on the cheek or Charlie keeps on fixing him and Al opening up about he's life, swear soo many opinions. Not meantion a while ago Amir Talai during a interview he was asked a question during the topic about the possibility of Alastor getting redeem and that question was this "Of all of the characters in the show, who do you think he cares about the most like who will he go above and beyond for versus any anyone else" and freaking smile like a god damm gremlin saying he won't answer that fully knowing something is happening and am like BRUH YOU- come on all the hints are on the table at this point like their just keep teasing us with it.
But that's all my apologies if i ramble to much just can't help myself, lmao.
Massive thank you for the charlastor fandom for keeping together in hard times because jeez talk about the definition of hell, hope season 2 gives us some treats for all that happened.
Oh yeah i swear this just straight up a call out to those two.
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Oh my god yes, I feel you first I saw the ship in the pilot and was instantly hooked on it but then I saw episode 7 with the scenes in Charlie's bedroom and was just like 👀👀👀. The chemistry between them was so strong that it could have been used for a Chemistry Lesson
In episode 1 where the Commercial was shown and Alastor said later that his face is made for radio only, I just thought "OK My face was made for radio then why did you film it" or when Charlie was shown, I heard people theorizing that he got extra close to Charlie to film her because he doesn't really know how to use a video recorder and I love it. Of course he has many photos of her, he is obsessed with Charlie
Episode 5 and Hell's greatest dad, despite people using it to hate on Charlastor, honestly was a win for the ship too. Like Anon said, Alastor practically using the "Your daughter calls me daddy (and I call her mommy) card and Charlie defending him against Lucifer was just great" he is doing it for me! "or don't forget Lucifer thinking that Alastor is her boyfriend. Mimzy calling Charlie Alastor's princess, Like why do so many think they are dating
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Episode 7 was just Chefs kiss, like I already said the bedroom scene with them was just how the hell am I supposed to not ship them?! Charlie and him walking arm in arm to the cannibal colony and Rosie teasing Alastor that she is too young for him. Or the fact that Alastor gave his cane to Charlie while ready for this. People can tell me what they want but Alastor adores her despite him wanting to manipulate her
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Alastor opening up even a bit to Charlie in season 2 would be great, like it makes sense that she is and not someone else. Both of them are the leads and as that their relationship hopefully develops in the show, let's just hope Charlie gets attention from the show. I hope the trend about people thinking they are together continues, image Alastor's mother thinking that Charlie is his girlfriend
And as I saw the interview from Alastor's VA my first thought was that he is talking about Charlie like it makes just sense that she will become a very important person for Alastor, whatever platonic or romantically, but I am not trying to get my hopes up as the show and fandom seems to dislike Charlastor (despite it being one of the most interesting ships)
Don't worry about rumbling too much about them, there isn't too much about them, I could talk hours about the ship! Like they are too cute and interesting. We have a saying in my home country "Zwei idioten, ein Gedanke" which translate to Two idiots, one thought and I think that describes Charlastor very well
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pseudoquiddity · 3 months ago
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Me ruminating on the Stamatins and their religious faith again/their relevance to the Bible. Here goes:
In P2, Peter makes allusions to faith, whereas it's mentioned in the design documents that Andrey is a "staunch atheist." (The Stamatins in P2 seem to be in constant, opposing conflict over things. I wonder how that single-soul candle is working out for them)
But it's pretty clear that Peter isn't religious, per se, he's just desperate - which is something I'd imagine Andrey would take greater issue with than believing in God, but we'll get there. Peter thinks abstractly, not tethered to any real religion, about Heaven and Hell because "it turns out, all this was my hell after all." Peter comes across as someone who desperately wants to escape the torture of his own mind and body and so looks to Heaven as that escape, hence that "Never allow yourself any time to think. That's how you get to Heaven" line. Peter is wracked by a guilt that may be inspired more by suffering than regret. As a man who spontaneously considers suicide, it's safe to assume he doesn't imagine himself living very long. If he can't have oblivion in life through alcohol, he wants it in death, but Hell probably doesn't offer what he wants and now that he's on the maybe-precipice of judgement, he's suddenly contemplating Heaven and realizing he's not done a lot of good deeds.
Sort of the opposite of Raskolnikov's epiphany that religion isn't for scrubbing a person's soul pure and clean, and religion can be epitomized even in sinful people. Peter's grasping for help and doesn't really believe in it.
(Peter also prays when Grace is in danger, and the exchange he has with the Haruspex explains how Peter is using psalms more as a charm than as real faith).
Okay, Andrey? One of the most revealing conversations about his (P1) character is in the Changeling's route, and you have to ignore several Clara responses that are just her saying please stop yelling at me! It's great.
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It's already initially interesting that Andrey is angry he and his brother are accused of being faithless. I don't think that Andrey is necessarily saying he is religious, but...
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"the greatness of God's design" out of Andrey Stamatin's mouth, can you imagine. He is saying that he might be, that he knows more about God, cares more about God, than Clara does - and that the Polyhedron isn't a revolt against faith. It can grow alongside God, in the same way that we all live with technological progress but many people still keep faith and don't feel it's been disproven. Clara proceeds to stumble back to the Rod and says mama, "Andrey ruined everything."
People riff on Andrey for his hole spiel and that's good, that's deserved, that's drunk philosophy, but this block of yelling is maybe one of the most reasonable and coherent ideas Andrey has that stands (correctly) in the face of Katerina and Clara's views of God. Can you believe it? Andrey has a wonderfully synthesized point of view on religion and how it relates to himself and his actions. He's not the traditional heathen he's made out to be (Katerina isn't completely wrong about the Stamatins, she does accuse them of hurting the Earth).
There's this line in the Marble Nest where your response is a choice. You can make Dankovsky say he either believes or disbelieves in God, and I think a Dankovsky who does believe in God feels just about the same way Andrey does - that progress doesn't mean defiance, that he isn't trying to become God or spit in his face. He's just doing his own thing for the good of the people around him. Curing tuberculosis was once thought impossible and nobody thinks those doctors are heathens now. I wonder if this P1 view will carry over to Andrey in P2/3 or if he's too much of an Italian/Cellini.
[ Slapping my red-string corkboard ] So, JACOB'S LADDER. A man named Jacob in Genesis dreams of a ladder extending from Heaven to Earth. It's been interpreted that each rung is a virtuous step toward Heaven, that Heaven is reachable from Earth with enough dedication toward a more righteous self. Jacob's ladder is sometimes also a staircase.
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Peter and Andrey were named after two brothers in the Bible, Simon (later named Peter) and Andrew, the "fishers of men," "Peter, the rock on which I will build my church." Very cool, but lay them aside and think about Jacob and Esau instead.
Jacob and Esau, in Genesis, were twins. Esau was the first-born, who grew up to be a hunter. The name Jacob was given to the second-born because it translates to "he who follows upon the heels of one," "heel-catcher," "restrainer."
In Genesis, Esau gives over his birthright as the eldest to Jacob for a bowl of stew. Later... their father favors Esau and wants to give him God's blessing. Before this happens, Jacob finds out and dresses as his twin in order to trick their blind father into blessing him. This is done successfully and because of this, the youngest brother has prominence over the elder. Their father says to an angry Esau: "By your sword you shall live, but your brother you shall serve; yet it shall be that when you are aggrieved, you may cast off his yoke from upon your neck."
Esau as an individual never "casts off his yoke." He's forfeited his position as the eldest and as someone worthy of special favor. He is often seen as less pious than Jacob, who goes on to have visions, fight an angel and win, and sires a nation.
So, that echos Andrey and Peter... as is obvious, but also in Andrey's statement in P2 that Peter will long outlive this town, including Andrey; "I can kick the bucket, so be it, but my brother must live. He is a genius."
Peter, trying to find some winding way to Heaven through his staircases, as a person who already reflects the Bible in his relationship with his twin brother, a pair of twins who never really make up for what [Peter] took and still takes from [Andrey], and yet simultaneously [Peter] complains of his persecution by [Andrey], a man depicted as a fierce hunter... etc. etc.
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igotanidea · 1 year ago
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Mysterious box: Jason Todd x reader
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Warning: a little innuendo, but generally it's supposed to be funny, cause it's hot outside and I'm suffocating.
***
She was sitting in her work, praying for the hours to pass quicker.
Honestly the day was closer to hell than anything else.
Chair was uncomfortable pressing into her back.
Hair was sticky due to the excessive heat and lack of air conditioning.
Y/N could almost feel the beads of sweat running down her back, sinking into the crack.
Disgusting!
And yet, the boss didn't seem to care, sitting in his state-of-art office equipped with all the technology to keep him untouched by the weather and separated from the hoi polloi that his employees were.
Prick!
As if she (and the whole office to put it bluntly) didn't know that what the boss was doing behind those tightly closed doors had little if anything to do with working.
Rather making personal calls and chatting on facebook while his peons worked their asses off.
Y/n's annoyance started increasing in direct proportion to the heat outside (and inside). Finally, losing the last remnants of self-control and dignity and missing the fact that she needed this job, the girl raised from her chair, ready to march into her supervisor bubble and shove some things up his face even if that meant getting sacked or-
"Miss Y/N Y/L/N?"
She spun around at the sound of her name, reacting instinctively.
"Yeah, that's me."
"I got a package for you." the man that suddenly became much more real to Y/N's haze brain and slowly turned into a deliveryman put an acknowledgement of receipt under her nose. "Can you sign this?"
"But - I didn't order anything-'' she frowned, over analyzing whether this was some sort of scam.
"It's already paid for."
"By who?" the frown grew more stern at those words.
"I don't know, maybe you have a secret admirer?"
"I'm taken-"
"Look. Miss. honestly. I don;t care." the guy finally started to get irritated. "This has your name on it. And the price is settled. So could you please try to not make my job harder and sign it? Please?"
"Oh." She blushed a little, realising that she was behaving like a proverbial Karen. "Yeah, sure, of course, I'm sorry." With quick motion her signature ended on the paper.
"Thank you." He seemed to be relieved at her change of attitude and quickly rushed out the door, muttering something about whiny girls.
And now she was stuck in the middle of the office open space, with the biggest package ever, wrapped in red paper with an elegant leather ribbon adorning it.
Having all her colleagues' eyes on it.
Right. Cause nothing livens up a shitty day like putting the attention onto someone else.
"What is it?"
"Who is it from?"
"Can we see what's inside?"
"Come on Y/N, unwrap it here!"
The voices started attacking her from every direction, but she knew better than to react or - god forbid - subdue.
Using the moment of commotion as her coworkers began to close in on her like zombies starved for entertainment, she quickly grabbed the box. Diving between the stretched arms and the thicket of legs, Y/N miraculously managed to reach the bathroom, locking the door behind her, finally getting a moment of peace to inspect the gift.
***
Jason sent her the set of 10 Dior body care products...
Which must have cost a fortune. And as she started to unwrap all those little vials and boxes, her eyes bore into a note.
Princess,
Last night, when we were "busy" I noticed your skin being a little dry. Hopefully, this little set of things will remedy that problem. Use it tonight. I'll be sure to drop by your place around midnight.
Shit.
She felt her hands shake a little at the innuendo, but that was not everything.
And don't you worry about the price, sunshine. No money in the world can compare with the way you feel wrapped around me and the way you're skin brush against mine. Want you all soft and wet tonight... I got so many ideas of how to make sure those products won't go to waste...
Oh...
She was so right to get inside that bathroom.
Because the stain on her panties had absolutely nothing to do with the weather and temperature. 
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aubris-fox · 4 months ago
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HelPol 141 Headcanons
hello, hellenic polytheist here, projecting onto characters i like because i can. rbs are appreciated!!! im open to suggestions for other characters (no promises i will 100% do them, it depends on my motivation), and if you're going to be an anti-paganism asshole just fuck right off.
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notes:
realistically there's little difference, but for this; deities under DEVOTED TO are deities they consistently worship and actively consider themselves devotees of, and deities under ALSO HONORS are ones they offer and pray to but not as frequently.
the boldened text in every list of domains is what each character focuses on in their worship.
FEELINGS ABOUT RELIGION and RELIGIOUS JOURNEY are lumped together because for most of them they're heavily intertwined, and also the sections would be too small if i were to separate them
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JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH
DEVOTED TO:
Hephaistos / Hephaestus : forges, fire, metalworking, technology, sculpture, craftsmanship, physical creation, art
Ares : war/battle, dance, violence, fear, rebellion bloodlust, courage, civil order, masculinity
ALSO HONORS:
Dionysos / Dionysus : alcohol, madness, cycles, rebirth, parties, agriculture, feasts, theater, fertility, release, inspiration
Hermes : trade, wealth, luck, fertility, animal husbandry, sleep, language, thieves, and travel
PRACTICE STYLE:
probably on the modern end. rushed, simply due to his work. i'd imagine he left Catholicism in this AU due to the strict structures it had (+ probably some trauma, lets be honest), and therefore he would prefer the leniency of a more new-age practice. i also think Soap would like how much of a puzzle it can be. he'd like figuring out every what works for him, doing the math and finding out the best ways he can go about each thing. he'd be knowledgeable of historical practices, but in an "know the rules so you can break them properly" sort of way.
FEELINGS ABOUT RELIGION/RELIGIOUS JOURNEY:
in the beginning, he probably felt hesitant. a little overwhelmed , too. growing up in a majorly monotheistic religion, it took him a while to get comfortable with branching out in his worship. once he did, though, he was much more open and himself in his practice. he loves it. he loves finally praying and actually getting answers. he loves offering, loves divination, loves building kharis. he especially loves learning the other ways people practice; he finds it all fascinating (major projection lol).
KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK
DEVOTED TO:
Aphrodite : love, sexuality, the people, war, self-confidence, relationships, beauty, passion
Ares : war/battle, dance, violence, fear, rebellion bloodlust, courage, civil order, masculinity
Hephaistos / Hephaestus : forges, fire, metalworking, technology, sculpture, craftsmanship, physical creation, art
ALSO HONORS:
Athene / Athena : wisdom, battle strategy, weaving, crafts
PRACTICE STYLE:
also modern, but probably more in the sense where he's adapting historical practices to fit a modern lifestyle. i think that he, while he still gives physical offerings, prefers and enjoys doing devotional acts that are connected to the gods in some way (i.e; physical training for Ares).
FEELINGS ABOUT RELIGION/RELIGIOUS JOURNEY:
i dont think he really felt guilty or hesitant about it; even though his parents were firmly Christian, i like to think that they were very accepting and allowed their kids to learn and explore different things. while they brought them to church and raised them with exposure to their faith, they didnt force him or his sister to follow their beliefs. i imagine that Gaz did follow those beliefs for a while, and that his switch would've been him just.. growing out of it, and feeling a stronger pull to polytheism overall.
maybe he felt that monotheism was limiting, maybe he desired fewer expectations about 'how he should be acting' than being a Good Christian Boy gave him. regardless, i think he's glad he made his decision. i also think he's a total lover the religion's mythology; when he isn't using his free time training and spending time with the team, he's spending hours researching and reading.
JOHN PRICE
DEVOTED TO:
Zeus : storms, the sky, fatherhood, law, justice, oaths, kingship, hospitality, prophecy, order
ALSO HONORS:
Any Diety : Price seems like he would offer and pray to whomever he wants/needs to in the moment
PRACTICE STYLE:
i unfortunately don't have much to say for Price. admittedly, characterizing him is difficult for me. i think he gives mostly fuck all about going about proper reconstructionism, though, and has his own much more casual way of doing things. does he respect the historical stuff? yeah. doesnt necessarily mean he wants to engage in those ways, though.
FEELINGS ABOUT RELIGION/RELIGIOUS JOURNEY:
converting was like reuniting with an old friend, for John. as a lad he'd heard of the myths, listened to the tales. he was always intrigued by it, but nothing more. he didn't have a religion for the longest time—didnt think he wanted one. he started simply because he was curious, and liked what he found. i like to think he leaves the rest of his cigars burning when he's done smoking as little offerings for Zeus.
SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY
DEVOTED TO:
Nemesis : divine retribution, revenge, justice, balance, indignation
ALSO HONORS:
Artemis : wilderness, the hunt, instinct, plague, healing/purity, archery, dance, music, chastity, transitions, care of children
Dionysos / Dionysus : alcohol, madness, cycles, rebirth, parties, agriculture, feasts, theater, fertility, release, inspiration
PRACTICE STYLE:
he respects historical tradition, and probably has a secret desire to be able to participate in those ways. though outside of that he definitely isnt picky in how he chooses to do things. he does what he's capable of in the moment, nothing more. huge believer of the phrase 'if it works, it works'.
FEELINGS ABOUT RELIGION/RELIGIOUS JOURNEY:
Ghost is probably hesitant with worship—faith is something that evaded him after the horrors he went through. he found Nemesis after escaping Roba, and holds a lot of affection for Her especially (i dont think his desire for revenge on Roba was specifically influenced by Her, i definitely think that was of his own volition. though it did get Her attention, and he definitely had Her support). he does appreciate the gods, even if it's hard some days because of all he's been through and who he is.
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TAG LIST:
@idiotrxccoon
@spaceperson64
@the-angst-zone
@parvulous-writings
@same-marie-same
@material-ghoul86
@sciencehadbabies
@sharkiiv
@pyxrin
@chaosundcoffee
(if you liked my post offering to tag people in this, i assumed that meant you wanted to be tagged and added you to this list. apologies if there was any misunderstanding there and you didnt want to be)
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foreverdolly · 7 months ago
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Is this the end of savage bonds? 😭
hey there, angel. this is the first message to my inbox that I’ve come across so i’m going to reply to this first! i’ve still been writing every now and again…
however- someone sat on my macbook and completely broke it. i’m talking this shit is gone, guys. thank god i don’t save my fics straight to my computer and rather type it all up on google docs (i’m bad with technology and don’t know how to ‘back anything up’. what is this cloud that you all speak of.)
so i’ve been saving up for a new computer (praying that friends and family will help me purchase one for a christmas present). as you can imagine, writing and editing fics is incredibly hard to do on my phone. i’m so sorry for disappearing as well. i think the lil bit of shit i was getting from people around the time of my dad goin’ “poof” kinda made me anxious about coming on this site, and after my laptop broke i was like… “well hell, they’re going to give me shit for this too”.
anyways, i’m still going to continue savage bonds! whether anyone is interested in what i write a month from now or not, i still plan on completing my ongoing fics. it feels good to have something gain traction and popularity for sure, but this blog originally started as a way to make friends and to write smut purely for my own enjoyment. i had no clue that anyone would give a shit about my writing, so to have so many people love what i put out means the world to me.
thank you! now it’s time to brave the rest of my inbox and delete any undesirables.
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friendly-alien-fucker · 2 years ago
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Ok listen I want to make a request but I can't really think of something new. So I'm just gonna request this little thing. Headcanons of you being a fertility god and the reaction of your yautja ( since I'm pretty sure most Yautja's have an breeding kink)
I know it's short but I couldn't think of anything else and this has been on my mind for days :/
A Yautja who's S/o is a fertility god
Hey thank you so much for your request @brieffarmpeanutpersona ! I knows it's been a long time since you asked for this but I still hope I managed to bring a smile to your face! 💖
Warnings: nsfw, mention of pregnancy, mention of infertility, afab reader, horny Yautja
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• Yeah. Don't tell them that.
The urge to breed is extreme in Yautja, it's how their species survives. To be able to have a population of hunters, you need to be able to produce lots of offspring, fast.
To say they have a breeding kink would be a giant understatement.
So while being a god will gain you enough attention as is, (albeit it's mostly from yautia wanting to fight you), being a fertility god will get you...a different kind of attention.
• You will know no peace.
Wether or not this is a good thing is up to you.
But you can be certain that the moment these giant breeding machines realize that being what you are it's likely you can reproduce with them, there is no escaping their fighting over you. After all, who can resist having a pup who could potentially have god-like powers?
And while they would never put a claw on you (and get away with it-) being courted by a yautja can be pretty...violent. So make sure to explain the way in which you'd like to be woo'd, unless you'd appreciate a blood-soaked alien offering you the head of some poor creature on your doorstep.
• Yautia and Infertility
As much as I'd like to paint yautia in a progressive light, their culture does heavily rely on the improvement and expansion of their species. And to do that, they need to produce offspring.
And though they do have the technology for artificial insemination, there is still a certain stigma around it.
Yautja mating is centered around getting the mate with the best genes so the resulting pups will become high ranking warriors. So you can see why being infertile might be a bit of a problem in that regard.
Therefore...
• Female yautja will ask you for help
Once they get word of your capabilities, you'd find little gifts littering the places you often frequent. Often a collection small skulls, sometimes bigger one's, engraved with the names and wishes of your admirers. And while you're used to offerings, dead things... really aren't what you're about.
Eventually you'd have to sit them down and explain that, while you're grateful, you're the god of fertility, not the god of death.
The next day you'd find something living in your home instead.
Let's just say you'll have to make space for a lot of new pets.
• If it's mating season...run.
Or hide, though I'm afraid either way it's gonna be hard to escape them. Male and female alike, their hormones will run rampant during that time and you do not want to be in the middle of that.
Especially not if you have a mate. And even less if they are female.
Yes, Male yautja fight for their mates all the time and it does get bloody. But have you ever bared witness to a female yautja who's mate is being taken away from them? No? Good. Pray that you never will.
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thesoulforgeorder · 7 months ago
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As promised, a summary for each background to help you choose what would be the best fit for your character in chapter one. I will try to avoid heavy spoilers and focus more on the themes and general settings and highlights for each background.
Military
The military background is for those who wish to make a character that was born into the militant society. Your character would have grown up in a prestigious, high ranking military family and known a life of luxury and privilege. You were afforded the best training, equipment and opportunities that money could buy.
However, with that came a heavy burden. For generations your family has held high ranking positions in every branch of the Navy and passed the rank of admiral for Voxis's greatest warship down. Everyone is looking to you to take over the mantle as your father's eldest child.
You will be able to decide how you react to your legacy. There are also characters that will be introduced and can play a key part in the story later. Depending on what impressions you left on them, this could help you later.
Wastelander
The wastelander background is for those who wish to explore the dynamics and culture outside the military government's influence. Wastelander is a name given to the nomadic people who travel and settle in the Wastelands of Voxis.
The wastelands are seen as a very dangerous place because there is no protection against the exilliums (there are no walls, military patrols etc. Like in the cities). The people in the cities often tend to look at wastelanders with distrust and skepticism because they keep the old faith; worshipping the Old Gods.
While Voxis worships technology, wastelanders still pray and perform the rituals of old for the Old Gods. Your character will get to decide your relationship with the religion and how you view your commune. Knowing about the Old Gods will trigger special dialogue and scenes later in the story.
You are also able to meet Theo, one of the six ROs, and start to build your relationship with him.
Orphan
Finally, the orphan background. This background focuses on what life is like for those born in the lower rung districts in Voxis; what happens to those who have no family or connections. It provides insight into the devastation exilliums can cause and how the military reacts.
This background is unique in that it has a branching path that will drastically change how a character, you meet in this background, will react to you, the player, later in the story. (Sorry for being so vague but I really think it is best for people to experience it themselves, any spoilers would ruin the path.)
Overall, this background is all about being stuck between two worlds. Your character can decide whether you feel resentment towards the military because you don't believe they do enough to save people (like your parents) or believe that they are doing their best and that you want to stop people from losing their loved ones in the future.
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h0pef1lled · 2 months ago
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narinder hc/theory on why he invented resurrection in the first place:
in the earliest days of the old faith when the 5 siblings got their crown or whatever, death was more rampant and common, either due to the lack of technological or medicinal advancements or maybe something to do with the older gods being killed. This may have led to narinder getting a bigger following due to it being known that life was short and itll be better to pray for a good afterlife than fighting the inevitable, therefore generating more devotion. from the comic, we know that devotion is like fuel for the god’s powers and is basically addictive.
As thousands of years went by, however, new advancements made people live longer. Because of this, people began to pray for things that will help them maintain a long life: heket for no famine, kallamar for no disease, or shamura for more wisdom or no war. Narinder’s following began to dwindle. Afterall, why pray for a good afterlife when you can focus on the present and live a long life instead?
With the withdrawals of lacking devotion and probably being alone in the afterlife for long intervals of time, narinder grew irritated noticed it was unfair from the start: all his siblings have 2 domains except for him. The idea of ressurection was unheard of but he tried it anyway. Why bother praying for a long life if you can come back anytime? With that, he began researching and conducting spells, probably on plants or insects, before finally experimenting on a follower. His experiment was most likely successful and the news travelled to his siblings.
I doubt Narinder had selfish tendencies in the beginning, in fact I believe he was gentle at one point in his godhood. However, i think the main reason for his research into ressurection was not out of kindness for his followers, but for power.
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queerhelpol · 27 days ago
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im tired of being the gods' strongest soldier :,) how do you deal with hard times while still being devotional? lately ive been having a hard time even praying anymore because of some things ive been going through
Oh honey, I'm so sorry to hear that. I understand your situation more than you know, unfortunately. My biggest advice has nothing to do with the Gods. Lean on the people in your life that you know will support you. Talk to them if you can. And try to talk it out. You may have more/better allies than you know.
As far as devotion goes, it helps to lean on the Gods, too. Especially Lord Dionysus, Lady Athena, and Lord Ares in the case of mental/emotional crises. There have been a few times where I've had panic attacks due to my situation, and couldn't crawl out of them. So I would light incense for Lord Dionysus, I would tell Him that I don't know what to do to feel better, and I would lay my emotions down and cry at my altar. I would let my Gods see my tears and after everything passed, I would ask Them for guidance in my next step.
And in less dramatic cases/most cases, I devote my self care to the Gods. If you can't do anything special or grand, devote your showers to the Beautiful Lady Aphrodite and praise Her as you do it. Praise Lady Hestia for the heat and comfort of your home as you cook. Pray to Lord Hypnos as you get ready to sleep. Share your drinking water with a libation to Lord Poseidon/Lord Zeus/Lady Hera, or at least praise Them for your access to it. Pray to Lord Hermes and/or Lord Hades as you tackle your finances. Thank Lady Demeter for the food on your table. Dedicate your medication-taking to Lord Asclepius. Bask in the sunlight and praise Lord Apollo and Lord Helios. Take a late night walk and pray to Lady Artemis, Lady Hecate, and Lady Selene. Do breathing exercises in honor of Lord Dionysus. Stand up for yourself using Lord Ares' blessings of courage. Devote your goal setting and planning to Lady Athena. Take care of your car/technology in honor of Lord Hephaestus.
You don't have to do everything, but if you want to get back into the fray of devotion, you must do something. So pick something. Start with literally any one thing, and build back your habits of praying one step at a time. You'll find that it helps you appreciate the Gods more, and helps you appreciate the little things in life, which is so so important for one's mental health. And if you want an easy medium for prayer, I suggest incense, if you have it. Light the incense while saying a prayer and then do the devotional act while the incense is going. If incense is inaccessible, set a timer and pray beforehand.
And just remember that you are never alone. The Gods are with you and there are allies when you least expect them. Good luck, friend❣️
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abyssalaerlocke · 2 months ago
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(Kind of in the context of Cybergate, where all the normal gods are out of the picture)
Was thinking about a new pantheon where only Gortash and Durge are gods, and what they'd be gods of.
If they ascended like Gale and his partner, and took on portfolios of that narrow scope, it'd just be weirdly specific. Like, you have a god of technology, and a god of music
And that's it.
Those are the major domains your world revolves around, those are the gods you can pray to and serve. 😂
So instead, I propose
Gortash as the God of Creation
Leaning on his creation of technology and shaping the world in new ways. And
Durge as the God of Destruction
For obvious reasons
They're not opposing, they're two sides of the same coin. The creation of something new is the death of something old — even if it's just that things are no longer the way they were. And vice versa — the death by nature creates a new way of things without it.
They are Change itself
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assortedvillainvault · 1 year ago
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Hello! Can I request Starscream with a reader who loves video games, especially older "retro" ones please?
Anon you have waited so long, please accept this humble word train of inconveivale proportions, becuase this went from 'haha Screamy vs tetris' to 'holy shit I can't stop typing-'
Starscream x RetroGamer!Reader
HA!
Such primitive, meagre entertainment. How can you engage in something barely even fit for newsparks??
Yeah, Starscream is waving his ‘technological-race superiority’ around again. You’ve long since learned to roll your eyes, tune him out and turn the tinny volume on your console to maximum just to annoy him.
For all that he snorts and rolls his optics and waxes lyrical about how his games were played in high-speed roulette 5D stratospheric-chess - or whatever - you don’t fail to smugly notice how his wings twitch in time with the music. (Don’t bring it up or he’ll screech about how he can’t get the bouncy little tunes out of his head at 3am. It’s not worth your eardrums.)
And when he DOES pay attention, he’s the kind to aggressively backseat drive.
What’s worse, is that after breathing down your neck and screeching at you to “Jump HIGHER-” (Mario Bros is a relationship tester), he’ll cluck his tongue and smarmily coo at your game over screen until you finally snap and shove the comparatively tiny controller in his face.
The affronted shock lasts a millisecond before he huffs and says such childish little things are beneath him. Obviously.
Your petty revenge is to chat obnoxiously loud to Knockout and spread a rumour on the Nemesis that the Mighty Commander Starscream is too outdated to try anything new, clearly, I mean he’s just so old-
- much screeching shouting and scratched paintjobs later, you find out that he’s simply downloaded the games into his brain and fully intended to not breathe a word to you about it apparently until you died. Prideful bastard.
He HAD intended to tell you, but only after he had gotten an impossibly high score to beat so he could rub it in your cute squishy face.
In a beautifully ironic twist of fate, being as advanced as cybertronians are, the highly simple nature of most retro games actually renders them incompatible, like trying to run a floppy disk through a hadron collider. So while yes Star can play tetris on his break, he cannot simply blitz the levels as expected and call it a day, because the old games have such simple parameters in comparison to how he usually operates.
So he has to actually play.
With no instructions because of course this high strung high maintenance metal bird could not possibly deign to ask you how to play first. That would be demeaning. And he won’t google it either.
You can sit in smug, satisfied peace as you watch him slowly tick through several layers of frustration: wings twitching, claws tapping, optics whizzing to focus on platforms and little 8 bit enemies you can’t see.
But Starscream is still the Second in Command of the Decepticons. And the Decepticons have very stringent security measures.
Soundwave fucking manifesting outside your window one evening was enough to have you pray to every god you’ve ever heard of. Inscrutable, all knowing fucking Soundwave. You regret every conversation you’ve ever had on the Nemesis, oh god your house is probably bugged-
His face screen flickers to life. You blink, as a live stream of the Nemesis command deck appears.
You have, by dint of hanging around too much and a few close encounters with the Autobots, seen cybertronians on the battlefield before. It is nothing compared to the later levels of Pacman on the Nemesis bridge at 1 am.
Soundwaves inscrutable smiley face emoji pings your phone, almong with a simple, translated glyph.
“More? :)”
PS-
Soundwave is Pacman god. Knockout has a soft spot for the Mario games. Starscream fucking loves Galaxian and will die before he ever tells you this. Shockwave, logically, finds Tetris soothing.
Megatron plays pong on his throne sometimes when his usual brooding gives way to inevitable drug induced boredom. It spaces his eyes out to either side nearly completely. Starscream has screenshots of his gormless mug taped to his hab wall to shoot on occasion.
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asthewindswell · 4 months ago
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Okay I don’t fucking care, I love Colin way too much rn, you’ll have to fucking deal with me explaining him to you, because I can’t draw and I need you to know my vision.
Ahead of you stands a horribly thin and pale man, his skin near gray, with a trembling in his bones not of weakness, but of a terrible righteous loathing. He is staring at a screen, muttering to himself under a scowl that reminds you of an elderly, spitting cat. Since the only words you’ve ever learnt in other languages consist mostly of a decade old school curriculum and swear words, you can tell he speaks at least the swear word part of German, and perhaps some broken Gaelic.
He is hunched painfully, his balding dirty-blond hair fraying like broken wires, and falling from a low, ratty ponytail into his thinning, similarly greying beard, where he wipes it away impatiently with one hand, as the other keeps fiddling, never still. It stars falling again almost immediately from behind a dull silver industrial piercing, in front of the single stretched lobe. His eyes, even, seem frantic where they dart around. They are an unbelievably bright blue, made brighter by a deep blue-black ring around the iris, and the washed out skin around them- not to mention the light of the screen. Long, long blond lashes frame them in their hatred, almost white in the glow, and the sallow skin looks near-skeletal.
His dress does nothing to downplay his ghostly figure, though the layers do seem to try. There is a blue-gray hoodie over all of it, and joggers, despite the office setting, though you can spy the top of a pair of blue jeans where it rides up, below a delicately tattooed stretch of stomach. The hood is regularly up, considering the bed-head, but without its shadow, and above the chewed strings and zipper, there is a clear, if surprising, collar of a thin, black, dress shirt. Less surprising is the grey t-shirt visible underneath with the lack of fastened buttons.
Cracked, thin lips pursed, and his light, neat eyebrows and small, straight nose doing nothing to lessen the ferocity of his face, or, indeed the scowl-lines from it, his hands and voice momentarily pause and, leant against the table as he is, he resembles a wind-up doll, run out of steam. He sighs and squints his eyes in anticipation, reaching a hand across to the space bar and pressing, gentle and slow.
An uncooperative beep sounds, and a strangled scream follows. Your object of consideration throws himself to his knees and whacks his head against the table- chewed and damaged, partly-painted red fingernails grip on painfully, and he pounds the scratched toes of the only remotely smart clothes he has on show (brown dms with black-and-white striped laces) fruitlessly on the carpet.
After a while of praying to the computer gods, his tall stature shudders a breath and he leans back on those dms with long neck bowed, eyes closed, and reaches a big, boney hand into the side pocket of his joggers to retrieve a very non-technological pencil and paper pad.
I refuse to believe he owns a pen. They’re too futuristic for his paranoia. Even if it does mean he also needs to carry around a rubber. Even if he does know that pencils were invented after pens.
That shirt was specifically for Lena. She told him to wear one once and he thought it was funny to wear a hoodie over the top. Now he always wears it because he STILL thinks it’s funny, even though Lena gave up absolutely years ago.
He has a very pretty thistle-and-heather design around his hips extending down his thigh and curling over his stomach. He got it in his 20s when his dad died
*oi, oi, i also write on ao3
https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaPurslane_Camellias don’t tell anyone*
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theoi-crow · 5 months ago
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Regarding your “I don’t do enough for the gods” I feel like that all the time, especially since my job doesn’t really relate as much to the gods I mainly worship 😭
I know exactly how you feel and it can be a very crushing feeling but I wish to do a little thought exercise with you in order to give a different perspective that might bring a bit more peace into your life regarding this feeling of not doing enough for the gods:
Imagine you are given the chance to see 5000 years into the future.
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Not just see into the future but also participate in it.
It's not one of those leaving your life behind kind of situations either but more like you're living your regular life but now you also have access to the future. This is a future you will not be alive for since it's 5000 years from your current reality but you get access to it anyway.
No one else in your current reality knows that you can see spaceships, working holograms, lasers, populated planets that have all kinds of living organisms you didn't even know were possible and no one in your current reality would believe you if you told them.
Only you get to see how people will live 5000 years into the future and it's amazing!
But there is a catch: The only reason why you have this ability is because there are people 5000 years in the future who worship you.
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Regardless of the details, you did something so extraordinary right now that you have become a god 5000 years in the future and the only reason you have access to their lives is because they worship you. Not all of them, but there are people who pray to you (for things you are so confident in you can do in your sleep).
And the person praying to you isn't very confident that they are doing enough for you, but because of this one person, you are able to experience 5000 years into the future. You are able to experience their reality and it's such a cool experience you don't care how rich or poor they are. They live in a reality that is so different from yours! They have technology you never even dreamed of! They look so different and yet you have access to all of this because they keep you in their mind, in their heart and they pray to you wherever they are.
In this analogy:
You are your gods and the person who is praying to you is you.
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You live thousands of years in the future and the gods get to experience a world full of clean drinkable water, cars, science, germ theory, insane inventions the ancient Greeks didn't even know were possible. You live in a world where humans can fly via airplanes. And the gods can access these things because of you. They also get to know you and all the futuristic things you're into like the TV shows you watch, movies you like, anime or comics you're into and they are so amazed by it.
In the same way that you would be amazed by all the things your 5000-years-into-the-future-worshiper is into, dealing with and offering you. The futuristic songs they dedicate to you, the futuristic forms of entertainment they engage with you about. This is everything you offer to these very ancient gods.
This is what I mean when I say: "you are enough and they are happy just being with you." They are fascinated with your life and even if they have other followers in the same time period as you, there is only one version of you with your own unique experiences that they get access to and that is by far the biggest offering you can give them.
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You are more than enough.
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