#tarantula stuffed animal

[littlekawaiigoth]

~Kawaii Pastel Goth Medium Tarantula Pink~

[plush-with-love]

Source ~ Squishables

Blue Tarantula

[pick-a-plush]

[babybatstoybox]

Woodwick the Squishables spider 🍂

[babybatstoybox-moved]

her name is Woodwick 🧡

[th3wizardoz]

Puppy!!!!

(Pattern by curiouspapya on Etsy!!)

[orcelito]

No one likes my posable black spider that I have hanging off the rungs under my bed :(

I named her Periwinkle <3

[kiame-sama]

A headcanob I have is specifically for Dragons, you know all the Fairy tales of Dragons guardiang Princesses?

I like to imagine that back when human existed that they had somekind of symbiotic relationship with Draconic creatures, they get yo be protected by them and in return the humans would keep peace between their other life hoard, cook them meals, offer handmade jewels, ect

This in turn evolved Draconic creatures to be naturally more drawn to any Human who is near them.

Another headcanon I have is that Packbounding is barely understood by most Creatures of Twisted Wonderland, since human literally can packbound with anything...Even robots or animals

I love it!

I was intending to have Malleus be the only weirdo dragon that hoarded live creatures, but if I were a dragon I would hoard all friend-shaped creatures too, so it would make sense that even the Thorn Fairy would hoard these soft little Humans for her own sake. It would make sense Malleus is just doing as his ancestors did and decided the soft Human he found was now his despite knowing very little about Humans. It would also explain the mythos of Dragons kidnapping Humans for their hoards and being so territorial about protecting them. (All I can think of now is those burrowing Tarantulas that keep little frogs as pets and protect them so the frog can keep the tarantulas eggs safe from smaller bugs).

Pack Bonding in Humans is absolutely misunderstood by everyone in Twisted Wonderland because Humans are mostly misunderstood by those in Twisted Wonderland. Humans are the equivalent of Dodos to most. I myself am rather bonded to my phone, the strange red giraffe plush I won from a claw machine, and most of my stuffed animals. I will cry hysterically over the loss of any of them despite being 25+ and 'too old' for stuffies.

[rxttenfish]

also considering how long spiders can live compared to their vertebrate counterparts, i think it would also be funny if the spiders also had a comparable lifespan to the average vampire. just. really rubbing it in. adding insult to injury.

id just have to decide whether i want them to be a jumping spider like the original species or a tarantula. i feel like a jumping spider would certainly help for vampiric agility and just sniping them out of nowhere, but i also really love tarantulas and i feel like their brute power might also be good for vampiric strength, and if both would have ways to deal with vampires potentially spotting them before they can ambush, it would be better to already be close in to them.

im having silly oc thoughts again

[fourthemarauders]

The marauders and their weird fears.

Pandora:

☆public speaking (although she would have lectures while protesting)

☆dolphins.

Remus:

☆he was super claustrophobic (but his favorite places were always small, actually tiny places he can spend time with regulus in)

Even:

☆birds

Regulus:

☆being watched

☆sparkling water

☆nothing

James:

☆dolls

Dorcas:

☆clowns

Mary:

☆birds

Barty:

☆tiny spiders (he had a giant tarantula as a pet)

Sirius:

☆stuffed animals

Lily:

☆that God is a man

Marlene:

☆flags

[littlekawaiigoth]

~Kawaii Pastel Goth Large Tarantula Purple~

[aceofwonders]

tagged by @impossibletruths thank ya 🧡

if you see this YOU ARE TAGGED 😘

[salternateunreality2]

Preggoroth: Nesting

---------

Sephiroth: How can I help you, Genesis?

Genesis: *plunks down in chair, kicks feet up on Seph's desk, starts talking about his day*

One-Winged Angel: *starts playing*

Genesis: *jumps* What the fuck?

Sephiroth: You disturbed the nest. Prepare for war.

The single innocent paperclip that started all this by being moved 3cm to the left: 📎

---------

Poor Cloud Strife. He and Zack have been identified by Seph's lizard brain as "BABIES".

Kidnapping, surprise cuddling, feeding, swaddling, and lots and lots of proud staring and purring.

My babies. My perfect, beautiful babies.

---------

ALL THE SOFT THINGS.

Sephiroth's inner child is being HEALED through this process. He has built nests EVERYWHERE, from his office to Lazard's office to his apartment to Angeal's kitchen to Cloud's barracks to Genesis' closet -- any space that Sephiroth has ever felt a little bit safe or a little bit comfortable has at minimum a very soft blanket.

Zack is HERE for it, and has bought him ALL THE PLUSHIES. Not content with the Shinra SOLDIER propaganda plushies, homeboy found an entire zoo's worth of (hopefully) stuffed animals and even hand-made a few extra.

One of the homemade ones is an octopus/squid/tarantula/chameleon monstrosity that is Sephiroth's second favorite, after his lizard.

Zack created the chimera after years of listening to Sephiroth's voice warm slightly when talking about how a tentacle could hug you really well, that many eyes in weird places would be great for recon, and how he felt like he could never be his whole, true self, like a chameleon.

----------

Shinra Official Baby Shower

Boring AF, with lots of stupid gifts, schmoozing, and ceremony.

Scarlet gifted him a bunch of mechanical mobiles, which Genesis "accidentally" firagad later.

President Shinra gifted a (for him) measly check and publicly announced that the children will be "Sons of the Company" and offered "medical" treatment for life and an apartment closer to said "medical" treatment, and "nannies". Fortunately, the Turks jiggled some wires and oops the broadcast was fucked. President Shinra was uninformed about who the father is, but those in the know laughed at him behind his back for the "Sons of the Company" thing.

Heidegger had his people prepare a gift basket, but Cloud got a hold of the order and makes it secretly great, with boring stuff on top. Lots of tasty and helpful gifts for the expectant Sephiroth buried under bland diapers and onesies.

Reeve made some unhackable baby monitors to prevent Hojo's tampering or observations. He told Sephiroth about the unhackability in private, when he also gave him a mobile and a white noise machine, all also unhackable.

Hojo somehow came down with the flu and didn't make it, and his gift got accidentally incinerated. Oops.

Rufus gave Sephiroth the majority of the registry's big ticket items, like strollers, car seats, etc.

Palmer had his administrative assistant buy something off the registry, and Anne, a surprisingly insightful woman, got it in blue with a bunch of squirmy sea creatures on it. Sephiroth wrote a thank you note just to her.

Other employees brought generic cards and cheap registry items.

---------

Cadet Baby Shower

The cadets couldn't afford jack shit, but organized a diaper drive and it turned out to be one of the best and most needed gifts of all.

---------

SOLDIER and Turk Shower

This was actually more like a rager, with a ton of fun games and the rest of the registry getting filled out.

Many of the Turks and SOLDIERS gave miniature weapons of all sorts that Sephiroth was completely delighted with and squirreled away almost immediately. To this day, Lazard is still emptying tiny-weapons caches all over the Tower. The SOLDIER-Turk merch war was absurd as well.

His closest friends gave him a set of 150 bug-out bags hidden around the city and Gaia. Each bag contained cash, food, and clothes for him, a friend, and his babies, and...

His most treasured gift: a USB with a photo album plus a handful of physical pics, including 4 Lucrecia hard copies in each bag. All his friends and comrades were represented, and his closest friends had written letters to be stored on the USBs. AGSL had each hidden a quarter of them, and no one except Sephiroth himself knew the location of all of the bags.

Zack was not permitted to know the location of more than 3. It's not his fault his mouth is so fast! He's a speedy guy!

---------

Sephiroth, unable to sleep, has repainted the entire SOLDIER floor and all of his nest areas 300 times by now.

He has also done heavy and light construction work all over his and his friends' apartments.

He considered building a "baby gate" to Cloud's dorm, but stopped himself while carrying the lumber and a drill onto the elevator, realizing he didn't want to become his father. To be perfectly clear, it wasn't the "imprisoning an adult employee against his will", it was the "anti-Hojo sentiment" that stopped him.

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

"Sephiroth, darling, we need to talk about the 3am construction," said Lazard, holding Sephiroth's hand and looking him in the eye.

"Oh, yes, I can't sleep, so I prepare for the babies. They seem to enjoy it, as they stop kicking my bladder every 2 seconds while I'm up," Sephiroth replied, glaring gently at his belly. "In fact, they're getting excited now. It is the third time this hour!"

Lazard winced.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, that sounds awful. I'll let you go in just a second, but could you please give some thought to another hobby? Several of your colleagues and even myself are experiencing fatigue due to the construction noise. Perhaps knitting would help? I know you're preparing for the babies, and you're doing an excellent job."

"Oh! Thank you for bringing this to my attention, I forget sometimes that not everyone is used to sleep deprivation. I will certainly consider it. Now if you'll excuse me, the children are getting restless and I drank a gallon of water."

"Of course," said Lazard, and let him go, relieved at the easy acquiescence.

It wasn't until the next day when he woke up to newly knitted carpeting throughout the entire SOLDIER floor that he began to question his suggestion.

"It's better than the construction," he muttered under his breath...until he passed Cloud and Zack knitted into the wall.

Excess blankets/tiny socks/hats/etc. get donated and save some cold children's lives ❤️ Helpfulroth ❤️

@snowbanshee

[plushiepalz]

Happy Friend Friday, everyone! 🥳

-TW for spiders/arachnophobia-

I thought I’d submit another one of my favorite spider plushies - this is Thomis the tarantula! “Thomis” is actually short for “Thomisidae,” and he is very emphatic that he is “Thomis with an I!” 😊

I found Thomis almost a decade ago at one of those cool mall candy shops that have both candy and shelves full of nothing but stuffed animals of all species, shapes and sizes! I had recently decided to start taking steps to put aside my fear/disgust of spiders, and a pile of fuzzy, floppy, and very realistic yet non-threatening tarantula plushies caught my eye. I looked through them, and saw one that appeared to have seven legs instead of the usual eight. I found that so endearing that he was the one who came home with me that day, even though I was trying to focus more on cute, cartoonish-looking spider plushies instead of the more lifelike ones!

And that tarantula plushie became “Thomis!”

(I believe that Thomis is from Wild Republic’s “Flopsies” line, circa 2015-2016, and is a plushie that is still in production…according to Amazon reviews, missing legs on these guys isn’t unusual - but I think it adds character! 😊)

hiii thomis!!! i also love when stuffed animals have funky mess ups like that it makes them unique and silly

[enderwolf91]

tumblr is great for meeting and talking to people from all sorts of places/backgrounds, but it'll never live up to meeting the very diverse groups of people you meet in online college courses.

with my school starting this week I've been doing a lot of 'get to know your online classmates' (cuz when I got the option of in-person or online classes, my introverted ass immediately chose the latter) and let me tell you, these fuckers (affectionately) in one of my classes are the strangest, most ragtag put together people I have ever met.

First off, you have me. Mentally ill, Overwatch player with insomnia and too many stuffed animals and obsession with strawberry milk (I say with said drink sitting next to me, completely gone despite just pouring it)

My teacher is a fellow she/they who plays Call of Duty and reads poetry and worked at my local renaissance festival over the summer.

Then there's a physical therapist/rock climber named Gon. (I have had to refrain from making hunter x hunter references because I have a feeling that I am the only person in this class who watches anime and would understand the reference).

Three people majoring in Mortuary science while three others majoring in nursing; mind you one of the nursing majors has been a certified nurse assistant for 29 years and has 4 adult children...

A 15 year old??

A comedy screen writer whose very open about how his parents were more disappointed with him wanting to be professional comedy writer than coming out of the closet.

And my favorite addition. A girl who wants to major in either veterinary medicine or forensic/autopsy science (two sides of the same coin I guess). Has pet rats, 20+ species of tarantulas, and 4 cats all of which she calls her zoo. Weightlifts, plays Animal Crossing, enjoys anything horror-adjacent, and taxidermies her departed pets.

This is a group made to survive an apocalypse together and I am here for it. We have a sprinkle of all the crazy and then some. (if any of these people somehow find this post, hi i'm that one person majoring in art and has a cat name cheeto lol please don't tell teach. if you're my teacher and you saw this post... no you didn't... also please don't look at the other things i've posted I beg you.)

[whatbloglol]

Ok so… I’m not a writer. And I’m not an artist. But I have this memory of a time and place in my life that I would like to get back to, so I’m going to try my hand at describing the place/feeling with words and maybe one of my experiences there. Here goes…

The summer heat was never as bad when I was a child. As a young body of about 7 to 9 years old, my energy and endurance were near boundless. Eyes bright and cheeks ruddy, I was glad to start another day at the horse farm that my grandaunt -and-uncle owned up in the small town of Fairfield, Illinois.

My mamaw had supposedly grown up in the area—I’ll have to remember to ask her about it later for confirmation—and I can only imagine what that must’ve been like. Papaw tells me that when he was my age, “you could sit all day and watch the road and not see a single car go by.” I remember laughing, giddy with the opportunity to tease him. “That’s because cars weren’t even INVENTED yet!” I didn’t look at him. I don’t know if I was right or not… that’s just how we expressed familial love at the time. We teased each other, sometimes self deprecating in the process. His own mother, before she passed away, used to say that when G-d said “Let there be Light,” she was there to flip the switch.

But I digress…

Me, a bright-eyed, ruddy-cheeked, tough little pony-tailed tomboy standing on top of the hill in front of the farm house… ready to see what new trouble I could get into.

I peeked down the hill at a small plastic drainage pipe that stuck out from the slope, looking for the massive bullfrog that I knew lived there. I had caught sight of him yesterday after we arrived, and resolved to myself that I would catch him before the few days we planned to spend there were over. And sure enough, there he was, sitting his massive butt on the edge of the drainage pipe, water trickling slowly from under him. I knew that if I could sneak up behind him and block his escape back into the pipe, he was mine. There was no else for him to go, the grass around the pipe short from having been mowed recently, and no other holes close enough to hide in. Slowly… silently… not unlike a ninja or a tarantula stalking its prey, my pink sparkly jellie shoes traversed the distance. He flinched. He shifted his position a little. I froze. Did he see me? No, not yet. I crept forward again, preparing to strike not at the frog himself, but at the hole buried in the hill. A smart one, I thought I was, having the intelligence to learn after a previously failed attempt that the real challenge was beating him to the hole. Another shift. It was now or never. I took one more half step and leapt low into the air, aiming to come down above the hole to cover it with my hands.

It didn’t work… the half step was too much and he saw me. As I landed, my hands covered the front of the hole, trapping him inside. But he was too far in there for me to see, let alone reach, and I knew better than to stick my hands into dark holes. Dang it… maybe he’ll come back out in a few hours.

Time passes and there are plenty of things to see and do on the farm. Sure, breeding and selling horses was where their money came from, but they were a bit homestead-y as well, with chickens, goats, peacocks, fishing pond, and a Great Pyrenees livestock guardian dog named “Dusty” that lived with his little long-haired chihuahua-mix partner “Dagwood” in the crawlspace under the house. Dusty was sweet but preferred the company of the other animals. Dagwood was feisty and high-energy, barking and trotting circles around the two of us as I scooped some dry dog food into their bowls. Taking a couple of handfuls of the smelly pellets for myself and stuffing then into my pockets, I ambled on down the hill and towards the fishing pond.

I passed by the wooden picnic tables set up at the bottom of the hill, shaded by several trees where the adults sat and chatted. There were a lot of family members here that I didn’t know, amongst aunts and uncles and cousins that had come with me on the RV ride over. “Didja get ‘im yet, Charli?” I looked over to see a thin, yet pear-shaped woman with tan skin, short cut-off jeans, a tank top, and a pixie-type hair cut sitting in a lawn chair with her legs crossed. My grandaunt Virginia, trying (and succeeding) to look younger than she was. In hindsight, the farm life was good for her. It kept her in shape. Words like “thin” and “tan” really didn’t run in my side family, with most of those who sired me being more on the side of “portly” and “pasty.” Mamaw and Papaw were sitting close by, chuckling a little at me as I shrugged my shoulders towards her, letting my arms and head hang to exaggerate the body language of defeat. She took a slow drag from her cigarette and blew it quickly into the air, flicking the ash onto the ground beside her. She chuckled along with her sister and brother-in-law. “Better luck next time!” I nodded solemnly to her as I grabbed a cane pole from a nearby tool shed.

The edge of fishing pond was only a several meters away from the back of the shed. I stood between the two spots, out of sight of the adults at the picnic tables. On the left side of the pond were two big, beautiful willow trees standing on either side of a drainage hole, no doubt there to keep the pond from overflowing when it rained. Not that I understood things like that at the time… What I DID know in that moment were two things. First, that it was NOT as cool as it might seem to hide and play under the leaves of a willow tree, because it was absolutely full of the blood-sucking types of bugs that would make my skin an itchy, miserable mess. Second, dog food is pretty decent fish bait.

On the left side of the pond was a dock, jutting out towards the middle, with a large plastic bucket sitting atop it. I jogged over to it and knelt down to the water, digging in my pocket and throwing a small handful of dog food out into the water. Nearby. I sat, silent and cross-legged on the edge for a minute or two while I watched the fish in the pond hungrily gobble up my offering. Perfect. I emptied my pockets into a little pile beside me on the dock.

I learned this trick on my first visit here last year from one of the local country boys that would come by and hang out with us. Nothing better to do in a small town than to be neighborly, I guess. With a single piece of dog food between two fingers, I dipped it into the water and counted to fifteen, then brought it back up. I wasn’t here to catch the big fish like my dad and uncle were trying to do from their lawn chairs at the deep end of the pond. I was here to catch the “brim.” They were smaller than the quarry the adults were after, but very quintessentially fish-like, complete with fins, gills, side-facing eyeballs… the whole works. I didn’t know it at the time, but as an adult I later found out that they were Bluegill. Or at least maybe they were related to them? Because they weren’t very blue…

Anyway! Don’t let me get too side-tracked, now. After about fifteen seconds of soaking a single piece of dog food, it was just soft enough that I was able to thread it onto the hook without it falling apart. And now, the fun part… swinging that line out into the same area as the previous offering, knowing that my little victims were still hungry. Fishing for brim was easy and fun. It didn’t require a lot of money or patience… perfect for a child. Within mere seconds I felt a little vibration and then a light tugging. I pulled up on the pole, and… voila! A fish! It flopped and squirmed, no doubt confused by the thin feeling air, of dryness, of gravity, of the warm (perhaps burning?) feeling of the sun-drenched wooden dock as I held it down gently with my foot to remove the hook. It was no-doubt terrified, having been so rudely extracted from the only existence it’s ever known—a place where it moved freely and effortlessly in just about any direction it wanted, picking and pecking at whatever it fancied as food. But of course that’s not something I had the mental capacity fathom as I grabbed it by its bottom lip and tossed its body into the water-filled bucket beside me. The adults set this up for some unknown reason… called it a “live-well.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, but if they didn’t dry out and die, and I didn’t have to throw them back in, I was satisfied.

The bucket was always mysteriously empty if I ever left and came back to it. I found out later that one of the adults would collect the bucket and replace it with another one. Whilst I was busy chasing chickens, getting bopped in the head by a goat I tried to milk, or grabbing handfuls of weeds to hand-feed the horses that would come up to me at the edge of the hotwire fence that kept us safely separated, the adults would take the fish the kids caught and chop them up into pieces to bait the trotline. And a trotline, I found out later, is a long rope with larger fishing hooks hanging down from it in intervals. My dad and uncles would bait these hooks with the cut up pieces of the smaller fish and stretch the line across the deep end of the pond. After a while, they’d lift it up to see what they had caught: enough catfish for the fish fry we ate for dinner that same evening.

In confidence, my Papaw told me later: “Don’t tell anybody you caught your fish with dog food. Some of them around here think that if you catch them with dog food, that THEY are eating dog food, too.”

**Not really the end but I’m tired of writing now. What do y’all think?**