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greenwitchcrafts · 3 months

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February 2024 witch guide

Full moon: February 24th

New moon: February 9th

Sabbats: Imbolc-February 1st

February Snow Moon

Known as: Eagle Moon, Horning Moon, Solmonath Moon, Bear moon, Ice Moon, Wild Moon, Raccoon Moon, Big Winter Moon, Groundhog Moon, Quickening Moon, Storm Moon, Goose Moon, Hungry Moon & Red/Cleansing Moon

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Aquarius & Pisces

Nature spirits: House Faeries

Deities: Aphrodite, Brigid & Nut

Animals: Otter & Unicorn

Birds: Chickadee & Eagle

Trees: Cedar, laurel, myrtle & rowan

Herbs: Balm of Gilead, hyssop, myrrh, sage & spikenard

Flowers: Primrose

Scents: Heliotrope & wisteria

Stones: Amethyst, jasper, moonstone, obsidian, onyx , rose quartz, topaz & red zircon

Colors: Light blue & violet

Energy: Astral travel, banishing, beginnings, breaking bad habits, creativity expressiveness, empowerment, energy working to the surface, fertility, forgiveness, freedom, friendships, future plans, growth, healing, problem solving, purification, responsibility & science

February’s full Moon is a “Micromoon” this year. Think of this term as the opposite of a “Supermoon.” It simply means that the full Moon is at its farthest point from Earth (not the nearest point).

The explanation behind February’s full Moon name is a fairly straightforward one: it’s known as the Snow Moon due to the typically heavy snowfall that occurs in February. On average, February is the United States’ snowiest month, according to data from the National Weather Service. In the 1760s, Captain Jonathan Carver, who had visited with the Naudowessie(Dakota), wrote that the name used for this period was the Snow Moon, “because more snow commonly falls during this month than any other in the winter.”

Imbolc

Known as: Feast of Torches, Feast of Waxing Light, Oimele & Brigid's Day

Season: Winter

Symbols: Besoms, Brighid's crosses, candles, candle wheels, fertility symbols, fire, ploughs, priapic wands & white flowers

Colors: Black, brown, Earth tones, lavender, light green, orange, pink, red, white & yellow

Oils/Incense: Apricot, basil, bay, carnation, chamomile, cinnamon, dragon's blood, frankincense, heather, jasmine, myrrh, neroli, red sandalwood, sage, vanilla, violet & wisteria

Animals: Badger, cow, deer,groudhog, robin, sheep, snake, & swan

Mythical: Dragon

Stones: Amethyst, bloodstone, citrine, clear quartz, garnet, green tourmaline, hematite, iron, lodestone, onyx, red zircon, rose quartz, ruby, turquoise, yellow tourmaline

Food: Breads, chives, curries, dairy products, grains, garlic, herbal teas, honey cakes, lamb, muffins, onions, peppers, poppy seed cakes, pork, poultry, pumpkin seeds, raisins, scones, spiced wines & sunflower seeeds

Herbs/Plants: Angelica, ashleaf, balsam, basil, bay laurel, benzoin, blackberry, clover, coltsfoot, coriander, dragon's blood, garlic, heather, lemon, myrrh, rosemary, sage, vervain, wheat & witch hazel

Flowers: Celandine, chamomile, iris, rose hips, snowdrop, sunflower, tansy, violets, white flowers & yellow flowers

Goddesses: Anu, Aradia, Arianrhod, Artio, Athena, Branwen, Brigid, Danu, Februa, Gaia, Inanna, Juno, Selene, Sirona & Vesta

Gods: Aegus Mac Og, Bragi, Cupid, Dian Cecht, Dumuzi, Eros, Februus & Pax

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Activation/awakening, animals, beginnings, fertility, healing, hope, illumination, inspiration, light, pregnancy/childbirth, prophecy, transformation, well-being & youth

Spellwork: Air magick, banishings, candle spells, divination, fertility spells, prosperity & purification

Activities:

• Make & light white candles

• Clean/decorate your altar & consecrate your altar tools

• Go on a walk in nature & look for signs of spring

• Make a Brigid's Cross

• Have a feast with your family/friends

• Give thanks & leave offerings to the Earth

• Set intentions, reflect & look deeper into your goals for spring

• Start a bonfire

• Find Imboloc prayers & devotionals that bid farewell to the winter months, honor the goddess Brigid, as well as seasonal blessings for your meals, hearth, & home.

• Pepare plans for your upcoming garden

• Craft a priapic wand

• Spend time with children celebrating Imbolc by making crafts & or baking

• Practice divination & fire scrying

• Draw a cleansing ritual bath for yourself

• Meditate, reflect & say your farewells to winter

• Cleanse & clean your house to prepare for spring

• Create a Brídeóg: a doll of Brigid made of straw

• Make Bride's bouquet satchets & exchange as symbols of good luck and fertility

• Set aside food & or drinks as an offering to Brigid to invite her in your home

Imbolc is a Gaelic festival marking the beginning of spring. Most commonly it is held on January 31 – February 1, or halfway between the winter solstice & the spring equinox. The holiday is a festival of the hearth, home, a celebration of the lengthening days & the early signs of spring.

The word "imbolc" means "in the belly" and refers to the pregnancy of ewes at this time of year. The term "oimelc" means ewe's milk. Around this time of year, many herd animals give birth to their first offspring of the year or are heavily pregnant & as a result, they are producing milk. This creation of life’s milk is a part of the symbolic hope for spring.

Imbolc is mentioned in some of the earliest Irish literature and it is associated with important events in Irish mythology. It has been suggested that it was originally a pagan festival associated with the goddess Brigid and that it was Christianized as a festival of Saint Brigid, who herself is thought to be a Christianization of the goddess.

Some use Imbolc to celebrate the longer days which herald the return of Spring & The Goddess's recovery from giving birth to The Sun (The God) at Yule. The God & The Goddess are children symbolizing new life, new beginnings & new resurrections.

Related festivals:

• Groundhog Day- Is a tradition observed in the United States & Canada on February 2 of every year. It derives from the Pennsylvania Dutch superstition that if a groundhog emerges from its burrow on this day & sees its shadow, it will retreat to its den & winter will go on for six more weeks; if it does not see its shadow, spring will arrive early.

While the tradition remains popular in the 21st century, studies have found no consistent association between a groundhog seeing its shadow & the subsequent arrival time of spring-like weather.

•St. Brigid's Day- 1 February. It was originally Imbolc, the first day of spring in Irish tradition. Because Saint Brigid has been theorised as linked to the goddess Brigid, some associate the festival of Imbolc with the goddess. St. Brigid is the patroness saint (or 'mother saint') of Ireland. She is patroness of many things, including poetry, learning, healing, protection, blacksmithing, livestock & dairy production. In her honour, a perpetual fire was kept burning at Kildare for centuries.

A recent campaign successfully established her feast day as a national holiday in 2023.

• Chinese New Year- (February 10th) the festival that celebrates the beginning of a new year on the traditional lunisolar Chinese calendar. In Chinese, the festival is commonly referred to as the Spring Festival,- marking the end of winter and the beginning of the spring season. Observances traditionally take place from Chinese New Year's Eve, the evening preceding the first day of the year, to the Lantern Festival, held on the 15th day of the year. The first day of Chinese New Year begins on the new moon that appears between January 21st & February 20th.

The Chinese New Year is associated with several myths and customs. The festival was traditionally a time to honour deities as well as ancestors. Within China, regional customs and traditions concerning the celebration of the New Year vary widely & the evening preceding the New Year's Day is frequently regarded as an occasion for Chinese families to gather for the annual reunion dinner.

It is also a tradition for every family to thoroughly clean their house, in order to sweep away any ill fortune & to make way for incoming good luck. Another custom is the decoration of windows & doors with red paper-cuts and couplets. Popular themes among these paper-cuts and couplets include good fortune or happiness, wealth & longevity. Other activities include lighting firecrackers & giving money in red envelopes.

• Candlemas- is a Christian feast day on February 2nd commemorating the presentation of Jesus at the Temple. It is based upon the account of the presentation of Jesus in Luke 2:22-40.

While it is customary for Christians in some countries to remove their Christmas decorations on Twelfth Night, those in other Christian countries historically remove them after Candlemas.On Candlemas, many Christians also take their candles to their local church, where they are blessed and then used for the rest of the year.

•Setsubun- (February 3rd) Is the day before the beginning of spring in the old calendar in Japan. The name literally means 'seasonal division', referring to the day just before the first day of spring.

Both Setsubun & Risshun are celebrated yearly as part of the Spring Festival (Haru matsuri ) in Japan. In its association with the Lunar New Year, Setsubun, though not the official New Year, was thought of as similar in its ritual & cultural associations of 'cleansing' the previous year as the beginning of the new season of spring. Setsubun was accompanied by a number of rituals & traditions held at various levels to drive away the previous year's bad fortunes & evil spirits for the year to come.

Other Celebrations:

• Lupercalia-

In ancient Rome, this festival was conducted annually on February 13th through 15th under the superintendence of a corporation of priests called Luperci. The origins of the festival are obscure, although the likely derivation of its name from lupus (Latin: “wolf”) has variously suggested connection with an ancient deity who protected herds from wolves and with the legendary she-wolf who nursed Romulus and Remus. As a fertility rite, the festival is also associated with the god Faunus.

to purify the city, promoting health & fertility.

Each Lupercalia began with the sacrifice by the Luperci of goats and a dog, after which two of the Luperci were led to the altar, their foreheads were touched with a bloody knife & the blood was wiped off with wool dipped in milk; the ritual required that the two young men laugh. The sacrificial feast followed, after which the Luperci cut thongs from the skins of the sacrificial animals & ran in two bands around the Palatine hill, striking with the thongs at any woman who came near them. A blow from the thong was supposed to render a woman fertile.

In 494 CE the Christian church under Pope Gelasius I forbade participation in the festival. Tradition holds that he appropriated the form of the rite as the Feast of the Purification (Candlemas), celebrated on February 2, but it is likely that the Christian feast was established in the previous century. It has also been alternately suggested that Pope Gelasius I replaced Lupercalia with St. Valentine’s Day, celebrated on February 14th, but the origin of that holiday was likely much later.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2024 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

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macfrog · 11 days

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so torn but i need a little 🩵

feel free to send more than one, baby! here all week 🫶🏼

meeting joel 1.3k words | duckie's baby shower 🩵

“fucking – shit…”

the truck squeals around the corner – the same goddamn corner it squealed around five minutes ago. you pass that same lime green mailbox, those same kids drawing farm animals on the sidewalk.

jesus christ, just admit it. you’re lost.

you did visit the place – though, only the once. and that was a couple months ago, now. you didn’t put a lot of effort into memorizing each street in the fucking neighborhood. did the houses look this similar, the day that you viewed it?

you’re sure you’re circling the same rows of houses over and over; sure you recognize the wind chimes hanging from that porch. you take another left, and –

“for fuck’s sake,” you sigh, pulling in down the street from those same sidewalk chalk artists. their cow drawing has a smug smile on its face.

your eyes roll to the right, and there it is. you probably passed it three times over.

it’s humble, quaint. pretty white wood, a wide-open porch. still some budding flowers left in planters by the door. you blink from the bay window to the numbers nailed squint into the column.

it’s so…grown-up. it almost makes you shiver.

you hop down out of the truck into blazing sunlight, lifting a hand to shield your eyes. a lawnmower hums in the distance, the scent of fresh grass diced through the air. a sprinkler whirs a few houses down. the kids across the street giggle and split the yellow chalk in two.

on one side of your new home – a similarly polite house with a row of vibrant tulips leading up to it. reds and yellows and blushing pinks – clipped and groomed within an inch of their life, each one blooming and beautiful.

on the other – a man, stood in front of a blue house, watering his grass. he’s tall, lean. built wider the higher up his figure your eyes climb. tanned, toned arms and broad shoulders which tug at the white tee he’s wearing. a square jawline beneath a thick brown beard.

you catch his eye and lift your hand to wave.

he turns away, aiming the hose at the grass behind him.

“dick,” you whisper, slamming the door.

you jog around to the back of the truck, taking hold of the sunbaked handle. it chinks, but it doesn’t budge.

“c’mon…” you grit your teeth, rattling it again and again. “are you fucking kidding me?”

you step back, sneakers scuffing on the road, and prop your hands on your hips.

your new neighbor is still focusing intently on his grass, spewing a stream of water at the lighter patches. the longer you stare, the more grass he finds to wet.

fuck it.

“hey!”

he gives the hosepipe a jerk, shaking his free hand dry.

“excuse me?” you call, waving an arm.

the man looks up slowly, checking over his shoulder first. making damn sure there’s no one else he can pretend you’re talking to.

and unless you’re eliciting help from the fucking paw patrol across the street, he’s no escape.

“hey,” again, and then, “i’m new around – i’m moving in next door. i can’t get this stupid fucki–freakin’ door to lift. would you mind helping me? please?”

he twists the hose in his hands. you can’t tell if he’s squinting because of the sun, or actually glowering at you.

it feels like the latter, the way he throws the thing to the grass.

he stalks over, a little intimidating in his stride, eyeing you as he approaches. without a word, he wraps two big hands around the latch. he tugs once, and the door doesn’t move.

“see?” you ask, gesturing to the truck. “i bet it’s, like, older than me. might even be older than you, might…”

your neighbor pauses, eyes sliding to yours. his stare is intense – dark, stormy eyes boring into yours.

and this time – you know he’s glowering.

“it’s the heat,” he drawls, giving it another strong pull. his biceps swell, the tattered sleeves of his t-shirt stretching around them. “it’s just a little st–”

the door suddenly shunts, rolling upwards. a rickety noise until it slams at the top.

the paw patrol glance up at the sound, wrists paused. they resume doodling when your neighbor backs up.

“thank you,” you mutter, tugging on the hem of your shirt.

you push yourself up onto the back of the truck, standing amidst the fractured bones of your old apartment. a shadeless lamp here, a box of kitchen utensils there.

the guy takes half a glance at you and double takes, eyes scanning the sea of cardboard behind you. he looks you up and down and back up again – jaw tightening when he notices your hopeful expression.

“do you mind?” you ask, lifting one of the heavier boxes. “if you got somethin’ better to do…” you glance over to his yard, the hose lying in a swirl on the lawn, “…then i understand.”

he sighs, reaching for the box. his thick arms tense when the weight shifts from your grasp to his.

“thanks!” you deliberately chirp, watching his figure swagger off to your porch.

joel miller, as it turns out, is a man of few fucking words.

his name is the most you’ve been able to get out of him – and that’s only because it’s on his mailbox. he tells you nothing else.

up close, he’s graying. the lines of a decently-aged man on his skin – that, or just a miserable asshole (perhaps both). he has a syrupy southern drawl, each word riding a wave from his tongue – but with each answer he relents, he still manages to sound fucking miserable.

he seems like he might have his uses, though. he’s got some pretty good intel on the neighborhood.

“that,” he nods to the house directly across from yours, “is steve and kris’s place. they just had a baby. some nights, you can hear the kid from over here.”

“congrats,” you mutter, following his hand as it moves across the window.

“diane,” joel says. “she’s got a dog – the thing’s a little shit.”

your chin lifts. “diane, little shit,” you echo.

he nods, tongue in his cheek. he turns, hand flicking in the direction of the tulips. “alice,” he says. “let me tell you somethin’ – if there’s anything you want broadcast to every person, pet, and goddamn mailbox in the neighborhood, she’s the one to talk to.”

“nosy, huh?”

“nosy,” he agrees.

you snicker, leaning by him to glance at the swaying flowers. “but look what good care she takes of her tulips.”

“hm. ‘s all a front, you’ll see. she’s smart with it.”

joel helps you unload the rest of the truck, sliding each box across your living room floor. outside, he passes you the last couple, and then reaches up for the door.

his tee lifts ever so slightly – flashing a sliver of skin with a smatter of hair above his belt buckle. a dark trail diving into his jeans.

the sight sears itself behind your eyelids. you drag your gaze from him, bending to scoop up the lighter of the two boxes as he jumps back down. he follows at your heel towards your house again, dropping the last box right by your front door.

he says, “you need anythin’ else, just give me a holler,” but his dry tone – and the fact he’s already halfway out the door when he mumbles it – are enough to convince you that this motherfucker never wants to see your face again.

so – you skip after him, following him to your porch steps.

“nice,” you call, watching him thud down each one, “you any good with diy? i got a shit ton of ikea stuff to build.”

he turns, bottom lip between his teeth.

your eyebrows lift, heel kicking against the wooden step. “a – shit – ton,” you repeat.

joel scoffs, shaking his head. “better get to it, then.”

he wanders back over to his lawn.

#me: a -short- drabble #also me: writes over a thousand words #duckie's baby shower #🩵

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stalkerofthegods · 5 months

Text

Hestia Deep Divs

Herbs • Chaste trees, Rosemary, Parsley, Basil, Sorrel, vanilla, Cinnamon, coriander, Marjoram, Mint, Lemon balm, cloves, clary sage, Allspice, Angelica, Coriander, poppy seed, chamomile, Angelica, Bay, garlic, mint, peppermint, pepper, marjoram, The lavender, the chaste tree, the datura, the California poppy, the goldenrod, the hollyhock, the yarrow, the purple coneflower, all white flowers, Lavender, White roses, angel’s trumpet, goldenrod, hollyhock, and yarrow, pine, Wildflowers & sunflowers, raspberry leaves, sage, pearly everlasting, yellow rose

Animals• pigs, donkeys, one-year-old cows, a Crane.

Zodiac & scared number • unknown, I cannot find out what month she was born on, or the day. But I would associate numbers 1, and 6 because she is the oldest and the youngest (and etc, but who even likes my rambles?)

Colors •Gold, yellow, orange, red, White, Gold, Lavender, light purple, black, silver, and dark red

Crystal•Carnelian, Garnet, Goldstone, Calcite, Topaz, garnet, amethyst, lapis lazuli, green tourmaline, Vanadinite, Quartz, gold, silver, and brass, Amber colored crystals, citrine, clear quartz, sunstone.

Symbols• a kettle, the hearth (fireplace), torch, candle

Jewelry you can wear in their honor• friendship bracelets

Diety of• the virgin goddess of the home and hearth fire, cooking of meals, and sacrificial food for feasts, architecture, domesticity, family, and the state, and sacrificial flame

Patron of where the families ate and congregated, hospitality, family.

Offerings• give her prayer beads that remind you of her that are not Christian (or make one, which is better), wooden beads, Oil Lamps, Seven Day Candles (because they burn for 7 days), LED Candles, A Candle that reminds you of home, White or red candles, Apple juice, cider, Wine, Baked goods, keys to the home (preferably not stolen(looking at Hermes devotees))), Small kitchen antiques/objects, pottery/cups/bowls, artwork of homey things, a meal, your favorite things, poetry, books, items you made, fall-themed stuff, spring-themed stuff, First/last foods & libations from a meal, Candles/flame, Honey, Pork, Cakes or Cookies made to look like one of Her symbols,), Keeping a candle/hearth fire or lamp constantly burning, Pictures of homes you want to live in one day, pictures of homes you have lived in, Pictures of architecture that you like, Teacups, teaspoons, tea towels, Childhood memories (ex- stuffed toys, baby clothes, old photos), Homegrown herbs, Toys or art of donkeys and pigs, Leaves or blooms from a chaste tree, Tea light candles (real or fake), Your favorite poetry or poetry you have written for Her, Your favorite books, Stories you have written, Art of flames, fire, candles, Garmets that you have made such as clothing, blankets, beanies, Homemade lotions, bath bombs, shower gel, bubble bath (You can ask Her to bless them then use them she probably won't say no), Beeswax products, honey, olive oil, pumpkin pie

Devotional• Pick up rubbish in communal areas, Offer the first or last bites/portions of food your to her, Cooking/baking for yourself or others, Having a candle lit whenever possible (electric or real), playing a video of a fire place, Volunteerring at homeless or DV shelters, donating to homeless or DV shelters, Setting healthy boundaries with friends and family, reading about Tea/Coffee magick, Getting involved with your local community, Advocating for policies you believe will better the community Allowing yourself to rest, Do a chore you've been putting off for a long time, organize to hang out with some loved ones, Veil or bind your hair, Wear something red or orange, Make a devotional playlist for her, make a Pinterest board or a mood board for her, Learn about kitchen witchery, Cook a meal in her name, Clean the House, Put together a puzzle, Eat popcorn and watch a movie, do Knitting, read about knitting, donate yarn and

knitting supply’s, prepare food for family, make the table before eating, garden, Harvest berries, pick flowers, Donate to food charity/drives, Support people who lost their homes to natural disasters, Welcoming others into your home, Keeping the peace (especially in the home), Donations of time & money to Habitat for Humanity, Do little (or big) acts of kindness, If you have a fireplace light it for Her or build Her altar around it, Meditate next to a fire, Read poetry or a book, play a playlist for Her and play it while you clean or cooks, Clean your house/room and keep it nice and tidy, Take a cooking or baking class, Collect recipes and keep a recipe book, Host celebrations at your home, Remember your ancestors and learn more about them, Spend time with your pets, Take care of yourself and your mental and physical health (Your body is a home for you), Take a hot bath, eat some ice cream, chill at home for a day, Pray to Her( ex- for protection, inspiration, happiness, guidance, and help getting rid of negative entities in the home, peace in the home, good food, an abundance of food, independence), help to start/tending to the hearth, work on having strong family bonds, Open your curtains and let the sunlight warm the room, Make a potful of tea and keep it in a large thermos, Watch movies that make you feel nostalgic and cozy, Say goodnight and good morning to her, Get an electric blanket and feel the warmth connect you to her, Cuddle a stuffed animal, Make a blog/journal filled with cozy homely things, Keep a few locally baked goodies nearby for when you need them, String up fairy lights and use them as your only light source, Whisper prayers and devotional pieces before you go to sleep, Use a Himalayan salt lamp to connect to feeling of a fire, Invest in little things (ex- pillowcases, photos, curtains) that make your room feel welcoming and peaceful, Make a little bottle filled with herbs and crystals and other things that remind you of her, Listen to music that makes your soul happy and your heart content, Take care of yourself (ex- Brush your hair, use a wet cloth on your face), Keep a tealight on you, Clean one small area of your house, Savor a hot drink, Do small, unnoticed acts of kindness, Always greet animals (both big and small), Do anything by candlelight, Wear colors you associate with her, Practice your patience (both external and internal), Be a listening ear or shoulder to cry on for those who need it, Make compromises when it is healthiest for both parties, always have a lighter or matches, Listen to music that reminds you of her, Spend time tending to your body, Leave a big tip the next time you have a chance, Practice kindness in all areas of your life (including driving), Take a hot bath or shower with no time limit, Decorate a space, Build a fire, Compliment people (both strangers and loloved ones), Donate something (ex-clothes, money, or your time), Look at photos and embrace the happy nostalgia, Wear makeup or jewelry that reminds you of her, Wake up early to see the sunrise - or watch the sunset, Watch/read about acts of kindness to be inspired, wear prayer beads that are for her, go to a high school reunion, do a family reunion, do budgeting in her honor, do meal planning, set healthy boundaries, have a household notebook, do seasonal cleaning, try home remedies,As you light your gas stove, say a prayer to Hestia, Spend quiet quality time at home, Gather your family (including your chosen family) for a festive candlelit meal, Commit to spending more time with children and old people.

Ephithets•Äídios - eternal, Aïdius – See Äídios., Basileia - See Vasíleia, Bulaea - See Voulaia., Chloömorphus – See Khlöómorphos, Daughter of lovely-haired Rǽa, Khlöómorphos - verdan, Polýmorphos - multi-formed, Polyolbus – See Polýolvos, Polýolvos - rich in blessings, Potheinotáti - beloved, Prutaneia – See Prytaneia, Prytanei, Vasíleia - queen, Voulaia - of the council, Prytaneia -”of the Prytanis.”

Equivalents• Vesta (Roman), loki (Norse), Brigid (Celtic), Hathor (Egyptian)

Signs they are reaching out• having a strong urge to Vail in her honor, seeing her animals and symbols in your dreams, and seeing her imagery a lot, everything at home suddenly going well.

Vows/omans• that she “would be a maiden all her days”

Morals• morally light/pure

Courting• None

Past lovers/crushes• None

Personality• She avoids drama, and is generous, but her temper is volcanic in nature, she is slow to anger, but when she gets angry her rage is a force of nature. She is modest, tranquil, and industrious

Home• Mount Olympus

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Fact• Historically she is supposed to be the first deity offered to in a ritual due to being the goddess of fire, she's the oldest Olympian, She is spat out last by Kronos so she is also the youngest, she shares her seat with Diyonisus, she did not give it up, she receives a share of every sacrifice/prayer to the gods, and she is commonly seen alongside with Hermes, I would recommend putting their alters close together.

Element• fire

Curses• a bad family life, food being burnt, having not enough food, being turned away at restaurants, being homeless, your house catching on fire

Blessings• all domestic happiness and blessings

Roots• Greek mythology….and she was raised in her father's stomach, and at the first years of theogony era.

Friends• all of the gods, but most notably Hermes, but is not friends with Priapus, she dislikes him (he tried to rape her.)

Parentage• Cronus and Rhea

Siblings• Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, Demeter, Hera

Pet• she has no pets.

Children • she has no children.

Appearance in astral or gen• she was typically represented wearing a veil and robe. In some images, she held a flowering branch or kettle as well.

Festivals • None, at every feast and meal a liberation was made to her name first and last, but I associate Thanksgiving with her, but her Roman counter part Vesta has 1-15 June of each year, an then another festival celebrated on 8-9 July. Hestia is also mentioned on 8 June. But a neo-pagan sets aside 26 December – 22 January as a month devoted to Hestia.

Status• Virgin theoi goddess.

What disrespects her turning away people at your home (she is a goddess of hospitality and it was seen as disrespectful to her to do so.)

Planet• unknown

Her Tarot cards• the Temperance, the fourteenth Major Arcana card.

Remind me of• Hot cocoa, and Thanksgiving.

Scents/Inscene • Lavender, Rose, spring water, rain, Pumpkin, Apple pie, cinnamon, fall leaves, Chamomile, Myrrh, Frankincense, Iris, Angelica, Peony, Angelica, iris, Sandalwood

My opinion • I like her, but I'm scared of her too. (what a shocker!)

Prayers•

Historical-

Holy Queen of Sanctity, we hymn you, Hestia, whose abiding realm is Olympus and the middle point of earth and the Delphic laurel tree! You dance around Apollo’s towering temple rejoicing both in the tripod’s mantic voices and when Apollo sounds the seven strings of his golden phorminx and, with you, sings the praises of the feasting gods. We salute you, daughter of Kronos and Rhea, who alone brings firelight to the sacred altars of the gods; Hestia, reward our prayer, grant wealth obtained in honesty; then we shall always, dance around your glistening throne.

For the lost -

Blessed Hestia, the first and the last, and the always flame. May your light burn bright and strong, May your prayers be those of respect and love, May you guide the lost, And give to those who have nothing. I give thanks to you, Hestia, for all that you have done And continue to do.

For people with intrusive thoughts -

I ask Hestia, the kind goddess, to help those who feel down. May they find comfort and peace inside of their homes and inside their own minds. Protect them for their destructive thoughts, and be the safe place they need so much

A prayer for homeles—

In Hestia’s name, may you always have a home and a roof over your head. May you always be comfortable and warm with a full belly. May you always be in good spirits and good company, never knowing the pervading loneliness that envelopes the soul.

Morning

Blessed Hestia, Fill this home with your light and bounty, As the day fills it with golden sunshine.

Evening

Glorious Hestia, Let your hearth fire warm this house, As night draws her shadowed cloak over it now.

Blessings of the kitchen-

Hestia bless my little kitchen, I love it’s every nook And bless me as I do my work, Wash pots and pans and cook. May the meals that I prepare, Be seasoned from above, With thy blessings and thy grace, But most of all thy love

Links/websites/sources •

ts-witchy-archive, constantly-disheveled, saryoak, eldritchhorror06, https://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/625205765818515456/hestia-offerings/amp, https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/179727039352/offerings-to-hestiahttps://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/625205765818515456/hestia-offerings/amphttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/179727039352/offerings-to-hestiahttps://www.learnreligions.com/hestia-greek-goddess-of-the-hearth-2561993#:~:text=Keep%20a%20candle%20dedicated%20to,prayers%2C%20songs%2C%20or%20hymns.https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.html#:~:text=In%20myth%20Hestia%20was%20the,youngest%20of%20the%20six%20Kronides.https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.htmlhttps://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Hestia#google_vignettehttps://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Hestiahttps://greekgodsandgoddesses.net/goddesses/hestia/https://www.hellenicgods.org/festivals-of-hellenismos---eortai https://hestiasservant.wordpress.com/2018/05/27/honoring-hestia-a-festival-every-day/https://www.elissos.com/the-family-goddess-hestia-mother-of-all-gods/#:~:text=The%20birth%20of%20Hestia%20dates,to%20his%20throne%2C%20his%20children.https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhea_(mythology)#:~:text=According%20to%20Hesiod%2C%20Rhea%20had,and%20Zeus%20in%20that%20order.https://www.reddit.com/r/pagan/comments/14sy8cj/is_hestia_reaching_out_to_me/https://mythopedia.com/topics/hestia

http://persephoneandhecate.blogspot.com/2011/06/exploring-archetypes-hestia.html?m=1https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/170063420188/bedridden-devotion-to-hestiahttps://honeyandhestia.tumblr.com/post/170063420188/bedridden-devotion-to-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/heatherwitch/160613514230/hestiavesta https://constantly-disheveled.tumblr.com/post/156636591525/can-a-hearth-fire-just-be-a-candle-that-you-lighthttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/169551188078/devotional-activities-for-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/167758105763/jar-to-help-me-connect-to-hestia-chamomilehttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/171225676313/burn-herbs-and-spices-as-an-offering-to-hestia-i https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/183383795283/what-kind-of-crystals-would-yall-associate-with https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/171208375440/a-historical-prayer-to-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/169394109439/i-ask-hestia-the-kind-goddess-to-help-those-who https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/166938581678/if-youre-still-doing-prayer-requests-may-you-be https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/178225408393/lady-hestia-goddess-of-comfort-and-warmth-to https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/183772520921/a-little-kitchen-prayer-for-hestia https://www.hellenicgods.org/festivals-of-hellenismos---eortai

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krishna-sangini · 8 months

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Living The Vrindavan Dream

(Warning: Very long post)

This is the post describing my trip to Braj Dham <3

Day 1:

We reached Vrindavan at around 3 p.m. Had prasad and then after resting for a while, we left for the Banke Bihari Temple.

Tbh, my experience in Banke Bihari wasn't very good. Not because of the temple itself, obviously, but because of the people. Rushing in like literal animals! Like, yeah I understand y'all are excited to see the lil Manmohana there, BUT SO ARE WE! Anyyyyway, we did catch a good glimpse of Him there sooooo 🫠❤️🥹❤️

Anyyyyway, we then went to the Sneh Bihari Temple. It was way less crowded and people were civilised. Soooo yeah, that's where I broke down. Like, my Keshav looked so freaking beautiful there, I just couldn't bring myself to dam my tears. It was simply ethereal...✨

He just looked so freaking beautiful and I felt like I had transcended all limits of the world...💫

And guess whaaat? The pandit of the temple called me near him AND GAVE ME A BEAUTIFUL GARLAND FROM KESHAV! IT WAS LIKE THE BEST MOMENT OF MY LIFE; I HAVEN'T BEEN HAPPIER FR FR!!! OUUUUFFFF KESHAV I LOVE YOU TOOOO!

We then visited the Ashta Sakhi Temple, Radha Ballabh Temple and the Keshav Mahadeveswar Temple. The serenity there is to die for. Like, why not? It's our Kanha's place after all!

Day 2:

JANMASTHAMI DAAAAY!!!!!!! THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE? HELL YEAH!

Soooo, I wore this beautiful ghaghra for my Keshav's bday celebrations.

But ek haadsa hogaya. Four monkeys legit jumped on me to snatch my beautiful latkans. One of them even managed to rip one of the latkans off my ghaghra🥲. One grabbed my ghaghra, and the rest three grabbed my chunari. But Kanha saved another me from a full-on Vastra Haran sooo yeah. I just got a few scratches.

Anyyyway, first, we went to Seva Kunj Temple. There, I did my Keshav's abhishek!!!!!! I've never felt happier, fr fr; I almost cried. He looked so freaking cute like aaaaahhhh!

From there, we went to the Radha Raman Temple. Again, it was crowded to the point that breathing became laborious. Couldn't catch a proper glimpse of Keshav there 🥲

Next, we went to Radha Damodar Temple. This place was great. Crowded, but organised. Plus, they had an almost empty bhajan hall. There, we could sit peacefully and I could get lost in my Keshav's thoughts...😌

From there, we went to the Meera Bai Temple. There was a super beautiful cow sitting in front of the idol. It felt as if the Murlidhar himself was petting her gently as she sat there calmly with her eyes closed. <3

We then visited the Govindji Temple. That place is so freaking beautiful! Like, you can feel the walls echoing the name of the darling of Vrindavan; it was simply blissful.

After that, we went back to our guest house to rest. In the evening, we went back to Seva Kunj for the Janmashtami celebrations.

IT. WAS. THE. HAPPIEST. I. HAVE. EVER. BEEN. IN. MY. WHOLE. ENTIRE. LIFE

Firstly, we had a beautiful pravachan by a Maharaj Ji. He basically talked about the birth of Krishna.

So, it's a lesser-known fact that Yashoda maiyya actually gave birth to twins, Yogmaya and Vrindavan Krishna. So, when Vasudev brought in Devaki's Krishna, both the Kanhas became one. And when Krishna and Balram were leaving with Akrur ji, the Vrindavan Krishna stayed back in Vrindavan. So, he technically never left. AND THAT'S WHY VRINDAVAN'S AIR REEKS OF LOVE AND DIVINE BLISS TO DATE!

Anyway, the Maharaj ji said so many other sweet things about us Krishna lovers. He was like, "We all sitting here for our Krishna; do you know in what roop y'all are sitting here? We're basically gopis here."

And I was like, "YES, YOU SAID IT! YOU SAID IT!!!!" It made me so happy for real!!!!!

Sooo, after the pravachan, there was kirtan. And each one of us, men and women likewise, danced our hearts out for our Kanha. It was so blissful, y'all. Dancing without a care in the world with complete strangers tied to each other with a single thread of love for our one and only Keshav; it was one of the rare times when I've felt truly joyous... 💫

At midnight, we all welcomed our Kanha by doing mandir parikrama. After the festivities were over, we had prasad after thanking Krishna for being with us always <3

Thus ended the best day of my life...🌺

Day 3:

The Janmashtami hangover was still there when we got ready for Seva Kunj again. We did kirtan there again before having prasad. Then in the evening, we left for ISKCON.

Now, I don't have any words to describe how freaking beautiful and ethereal our sakha looked there! Like, he looks so perfect that you can't help but tear up...✨ His beautiful lotus eyes legit glimmer at you overflowing with love. There's nothing more peaceful than just staring at his face there for real. Everything in ISKCON was so freaking beautiful; simple exquisite. All the lovely mural paintings, the mesmerising idols, the gorgeous architecture; I could spend the rest of my life there without any regrets.

Moving on, we left ISKCON for Prem Mandir.

F. I. N. A. L. L. Y

And there, I legit became oblivious to my surroundings. Like, my friend legit had to guide me through cuz I was in a trance-like state. The freaking delightful and charming statues showing different phases of my Keshav's life looked as if they were speaking to me. The lovely statues of Radha Rani with her Kanha were just so so so pretty! The temple interior gave heaven vibes for real. Like, I just don't have the words to describe how happy and tranquil I felt in there despite the crowd... ❤️ I completely lost my heart and soul to the Makhan Chor that day...💫 Did that quite happily, I'm telling ya.

Thus ended another glorious day.

Day 4:

The day I've probably been the most heartbroken, cuz that's the day we left Vrindavan.

But not before visiting Nidhi Van. Y'all, if anyone ever tells me Krishna is mythology, I'm cutting their throats off without batting an eyelash. Like, you literally FEEL Kanha walking beside you and caressing your arms lovingly as you walk through Nidhi Van! The trees there, gracefully twisted and intertwined with each other, are a living testimony of our Kanha's raas with his Radhe and sakhis... ✨ It was just so soothing to feel His presence right next to you there!!!! I'm just repeating the same thing again and again, cuz that's basically what you live there in the land of Keshav 🥹❤️

Anyway, melancholy struck immediately after we left Nidhi Van cuz yeah, we left Vrindavan... Yeah... It was heartbreaking. Like, yeah, He is with me always, every day, every second. But I LEFT VRINDAVAN, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, RIGHT!? Also, it was raining cats and dogs when we left. Call me over-dramatic, but I'm just gonna assume that it was my Keshav's bittersweet way of sending me off.

Anyway, we left for Radha Kund where we stayed at a मठ. In the evening, we went to see Radha Kund and Shyam Kund. Again, I felt His mischievous blissful presence pulling my leg right there <3 I felt my sakha lingering beside me, smiling at me with all His love. And I have no idea what overcame me, but I started singing 'Natnagar ki hai Saari Leela' aloud. Like, I hope no one minded that. But at the moment, my mind couldn't think of anything or anyone else but my Manmohana for real.

And yet another day in Braj passed by.

Day 5:

Our last day in Braj. We went to Barsana!!! We visited the Radha Rani Temple, of our very own Madanmohini... ❤️ The temple is so beautiful, y'all. Architecturally, aesthetically, and spiritually; it's simply perfect! And our Radha Rani, oufff! Unke baare me kya hi kahun? She's ever gorgeous, beautiful, dazzling, and whatnot! 🤩 And we both laughed about how Kanha is such a simp for her soooo, yeah!

The rest of the day, it simply rained. So we couldn't do much. But yeah, I listened to songs thinking about the past couple of days I spent with my Keshav himself... 💫

And yeah, the next day we left Braj... No further elaboration.

Photo/Video Dump:

My Vrindavan trip in short

I MISS THAT PLACE SO MUCH ASDFGHJKL!

P.S. I called up my bestie @pragyan05 and made her ugly cry by telling her about my Vrindavan trip 😌 I mean, why should I suffer alone.

@cheolliepdf @kanhapriya @krishakamal @krishna-premi @krishna-priyatama @krishnasamyuta @swayamev @stardustkrishnaverse @mindless-tirade @satakshiwrites-blog @janaknandini-singh999 @etherealmistt @celestesinsight @saanjh-ki-dulhan @whaelien @idllyastuff @kimbapeukidding @iwanttobeagopi @desi-yearning @ramayantika @pragyan05 @sambhavami

#Baanhi's vaani #krishnablr #gopiblr #vrindavan #barsana #radhakrishna #krishna #kanha #kanhaiya #THE BEST TRIP OF MY ENTIRE LIFE ISTG #SEE YOU SOON AGAIN KESHAAAAAAAV #THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME KNOW YOU'RE WITH ME EVEN AS I TYPE THIS #I LOVE YAAAAA

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annieqattheperipheral · 5 months

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for reference here's michael nylander's hockeydb

for my willy babes💕 here u go:

- - - - - - -

STOCKHOLM — About 35 minutes outside Stockholm sits the place that always felt most like home for William Nylander.

It is the long-time offseason home of former NHLer Michael Nylander, and it’s where the Nylander family has been congregating every summer since William Nylander was a boy.

There’s the main house, the guest house and the barn where William practically lived from the time he was old enough to hold a hockey stick. It isn’t the kind of barn where you might house cows, horses and piles of hay. It’s nicer than that, William says. There are wooden floors and, as you might expect in a household of hockey players, two hockey nets.

William and his younger brother Alex would be holed up there for hours, day after day, every summer when they were kids.

Alex would play goalie and William would fire shots. Sticks would be thrown. Fights would ensue.

“But then after the fight, no matter what happened,” Alex said, “we would be best friends again.”

Then they might step and fire pucks on the shooting ramp Michael built in the yard by the soccer nets. After that, zip the 30 seconds it took to the nearby dock for a jump in the lake. Then, a visit to the sauna.

As boys, William and Alex would often make their way over to their father’s gym, where they would watch Dad go through his offseason workouts in preparation for another NHL season.

Then, the summer would come to an end and young William, and the rest of the family, would follow Dad back to North America. Somewhere in North America.

William Nylander’s life has been forever split between two worlds and two homes.

- - - - - - -

Almost every fall, it seemed, Dad’s NHL jersey changed.

Which meant a new city, new school, new friends, new home, new minor hockey team and new hockey heroes for William (outside of Dad, of course).

William Nylander was born in Calgary while his dad was playing for the Flames. Michael was traded there from Hartford. He spent parts of five seasons with the Flames before they dealt him to Tampa Bay. Michael played only 35 games for the Lightning before another deal sent him — and the family — to Chicago.

Trades weren’t talked about in the singular, but rather, the “we.” Michael Nylander wasn’t getting traded. The Nylanders were.

William was just starting the first grade when the Blackhawks traded his dad yet again, after only nine games in the fall of 2002, to Washington. The Capitals flipped Michael to Boston not long before the 2004 trade deadline.

Michael signed with the New York Rangers not long before the 2004-05 lockout. After two seasons there, the family trekked back to Washington, where Michael signed as a free agent.

Over 17 years, Michael Nylander played for seven teams – none lasting longer than a 239-game run with the Blackhawks. He also suited up in Sweden, Switzerland, Russia and Finland, as well as minor league outposts in Rochester and Grand Rapids.

“Moving around – it’s been like that since I was born,” William said. “It’s just the way it was. And actually, every time we moved somewhere, we thought it was fun.”

Moving came to feel normal. The first week at a new school was nerve-wracking, but also familiar. So was making new friends in Chicago, Washington, and New York, the three spots that occupied most of William’s childhood.

It helped that William and Alex always had each other, along with four sisters. Alex was born in Calgary two years after William. They did everything together.

“Willy and Alex, they’re like stuck,” said Rasmus Sandin, the former Toronto Maple Leafs defenceman and a close friend of the Nylander family. “They’re together all the time.”

Alex says William is a little quieter than he is, a little less goofy, and more similar to their dad.

Thommy Nylander, Michael’s younger brother and William’s uncle, thinks William inherited his father’s mentality, among other things. Thommy trains William every summer (he’s also a chiropractor and often treats William) and said his thoroughness in preparation is very much like Michael’s.

“He’s so warm and a nice guy, but when you get to the gym, he’s very serious about working,” Thommy said. “He’s probably the best player, but he’s still doing the hours and he’s serious. He doesn’t want to waste time.”

Anders Sorensen, who coached William when he was a kid in Chicago, saw him do things that seemed beyond the comprehension for someone his age. Like the time William dropped the puck behind his own net and took off.

“What are you doing?” Sorensen asked.

“Well, we’re breaking out!” Nylander responded. “It’s a power play!”

He was unmistakably the son of an NHLer.

Michael would bring William and Alex around to the rink often. They thought it was the coolest thing imaginable, being there with Dad where actual NHL hockey was being played.

William would hop onto the ice with Alex and shoot pucks before practice. Then he would retreat, on Dad’s orders, to the ping-pong lounge. From there, they would amble over to the dressing room and inspect the sticks of their father’s teammates – stars like Tony Amonte and Doug Gilmour in Chicago or Jaromir Jagr and Peter Bondra in Washington.

When Michael played for the Rangers, the Nylanders lived for a time in Greenwich Village — about a half-hour’s walk from Madison Square Garden. William’s mother, Camilla, would walk the kids around midtown Manhattan before Michael’s games and then walk up the stairs into the arena.

The “green room” at MSG was particularly special.

“I guess it’s called a family room,” William said. “But me and my brother called it the green room. ‘We’re going to the green room!’ Go smash a Coke every period and watch the game.”

In the green room, they could sip as much Coca-Cola as they wanted.

“It’s like ‘Mom, can I have a Coke?’ ‘No. Today’s not Saturday.’ There you don’t even have to ask mom,” William said.

Their mini sticks were with them always. William and Alex didn’t need much to create a playing ground. A doorway for a goal was all it took.

That’s what made their house in Washington so thrilling: It had a big basement that was perfect for hockey. And because their dad just happened to play in the NHL, those games grew to include actual NHL players.

Fellow Swede Nicklas Backstrom visited the Nylander home for dinner frequently. Backstrom says he felt like another one of Michael’s kids. For William and Alex, Backstrom was their dad’s work colleague and also an honourary sibling.

At one Thanksgiving dinner, the Nylanders — with chef Michael doing the cooking — hosted Backstrom and his even starrier Capitals teammate, Alex Ovechkin.

Life amongst the stars was just part of the deal for William growing up. There was that one time he looked up in the elevator at MSG and saw Mario Lemieux standing across from him.

- - - - - - -

Michael taught William the game. At first, he just let William and Alex play for fun. But as they grew older and more serious about the sport, he would instruct them on how to shoot, how to skate, how to do everything on the ice. They would watch, take notes and try to do it all the same.

“Growing up, we would follow him around and stuff, but it wasn’t like he was pushing us or anything,” William said. “But once we decided that we wanted to play, he helped us out a lot and pushed us in the right way.”

Dan Houck, who coached William when he lived in Washington, saw the same thing in him that he did with all the sons of the Capitals he coached. They all seemed to come fully stocked with a certain hockey intelligence.

William saw the ice just like his dad, Thommy Nylander says.

“William was front-row to some of the most dynamic offensive talents in the NHL,” Houck said. “I think that was formidable for him in his development as a player.”

Backstrom remembers watching William and Alex both play for a local youth team. “I knew they were special players, for sure,” he said. “They were dominant.”

“I always looked up to my dad and wanted to be like my dad,” William said.

But William never played much like his dad. Michael was a pure setup man. He didn’t have William’s power as a skater or shooter.

Sorensen wonders if William, raised on all those North American rinks, had more of a shooter’s mentality than his dad, who came up in Europe, where most players think pass first.

Sorensen coached William and his dad together for Södertälje in the Swedish Hockey League when William was 16 and Michael was almost 40. They would all chuckle at signs in the rink that said explicitly: “No parents allowed on the bench.”

Not only were they on the same bench, but often the same line, with William at right wing and Michael in the middle. During one game, William pleaded with his dad: “Pass me the puck instead of hanging onto it!”

Michael wasn’t an overbearing hockey dad. He even pushed his boys to explore other sports. He did like to ask lots of questions though.

“I call him ‘Wallander’ sometimes,” Sorensen said, referring to the fictional Swedish detective, “He’s always like, ‘Why is that? What do you think about that? Why did you do it this way? Why did you do it that way?’ He’s a smart man. He’s a very smart man. He cares for his family, he cares for people around him so I’ve always got along with him great.”

As Sorensen noted, it was usually Camilla who handled a large chunk of the duties when it came to getting William to the rink.

- - - - - - -

Even as a youngster, the skill always popped with William.

Houck remembers the first time he faced William, when he was 10 and playing for the Greenwich Jr. Blues. Houck’s squad was a year older, but they still trailed by a goal late and pulled their goalie. The puck popped up and hit the stick of the “wrong” player — William Nylander. He calmly shot it down the ice into the empty net.

“Not many kids at age 10 would have the wherewithal [to do that],” Houck says. “If you miss that and it’s an icing, then the puck’s pinned in your end again.”

Sorensen remembers a select tournament in Toronto when William faced off against future NHLers like Connor McDavid, Josh Ho-Sang and Robby Fabbri. Someone came up to Sorensen and said: “This Nylander kid, he’s right up there with all those other guys.”

Michael was a little surprised when he heard about it: “They really think he’s that good?”

Houck’s primary objective when he coached Nylander was to ensure he didn’t stifle that skill. He wanted to let those gifts shine as brightly as possible, especially in key spots with the game on the line.

What sticks out most in Houck’s memory of William is how he loved the game. This wasn’t a kid who played because of his dad. It was the opposite with William, who would even sneak onto the ice with Alex’s team whenever he could.

“We always just loved hockey from the first time we ever played it,” Alex said.

- - - - - - -

William still retreats to Sweden every offseason.

“Mostly what you miss about Sweden is the family,” he said.

The Nylanders are an especially tight bunch. Michael is one of seven siblings himself. It’s not uncommon for the Nylanders to make their way to Toronto. Thommy and his older brother, Peter, came to watch in April.

In his early years with the Leafs, William was announced at home games as hailing from Calgary. That changed a couple of seasons ago. Now, when he’s introduced, it’s “from Stockholm, Sweden.”

Stockholm became home on a more permanent basis at 14 when Michael’s NHL days came to an end and when William, with Canadian and Swedish citizenship, had to decide where he would play his hockey internationally. He and Alex both opted for Sweden. That’s when he and Alex could begin to enjoy the outdoor rinks in and around Stockholm and “play and play and play and never go home” as Alex remembered it.

For a long time, William stayed with his parents when he returned to Sweden in the summer. He’s since bought an apartment in Stockholm and invited Alex to live with him in the offseason. They take William’s two dogs for walks down by the water. They hit Ciccios for dinner or Brasserie Astoria next door, or Restaurant AG for a quality steak.

William will golf five days a week with Sandin during the offseason, forever finding space for a daily nap. William and Alex might have friends over and still William will dip out for his daily nap. “We both nap a lot,” Alex said, “but you’ll never see somebody who naps more than my brother. He’ll nap 365 days of the year.”

William is still trained at home by his dad through his Playmaker92 agency.

William and Alex will usually hit the gym around 8 a.m. By 10, it’s over to the ice with a much larger group that includes Sandin and his brother, Linus, for on-ice sessions lasting an hour and a half led by Michael.

Few, if any, NHL players are trained by their former NHL-playing fathers. Michael is known to be a master of the details, creating the kind of skill drills that only a former player of his calibre could.

Another bonus of returning home to Sweden for William is the chance to eat his dad’s cooking.

Michael has been something of a foodie dating back to his playing days. He prepares “gourmet” meals with a starter, main, and dessert. (Unprompted, Backstrom mentioned Michael’s excellent food.)

Sandin remembers a particularly delicious potato pancake and says the experience of eating a Michael Nylander meal is “like you’re going to a Michelin-star restaurant.”

That’s the thing about Sweden for William. It’s home. It’s family. It’s the place he could, and can still, always come back to. It’s the place where he’s able to find some distance from his hockey-playing life.

The days of hopscotching around North America have long been over. William has played the entirety of his career with the Leafs. Toronto has become his adopted second home. He rides the TTC to most home games these days.

He feels settled in Toronto, though, he adds with a big laugh, “With every year having a trade rumor.”

Two worlds. Two homes. Forever the life of William Nylander.

It’s how he was made.

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gh0vtzb1og · 9 days

Text

Cowpoke pt 1. COWBOY AU / SIMON RILEY X FEM READER

‘Cause I drift with the wind, no one cares where I go.’

‘Ridin the Broncs in the big rodeo’

Notes; teasing, degradation, misogyny

(Cowpoke by colter wall goes well with this series, I suggest listening to them:)

(If you cannot tell I am a country boy/girl, I do barrel racing and farm work. I dress completely country)

You hopped out of the pitch black Chevy that had driven you out to this little ranch out in Montana. The sky above you littered with kisses of white fluffy clouds, the sun smiling down upon you as you looked around the ranch. The Silverado had driven off after you grabbed your stuff from it, a duffel bag of clothes, your straw cowboy hat, and that was about it. You didn’t need much.

The gravel underneath your boots crunched as you walked down the driveway and into the ranch, it was a massive plot of land, the owner said he’d pay you to work on it, his name was Simon Riley if you remembered correctly. Big livestock producer, they raised beef cows. Their herds were massive but maintained, having hundreds of acres to roam.

You continued down the road, seeing the neatly kept scenery that covered the main path, you didn’t know what you were in for. A whinny of a horse from behind you broke the silence of you crunching the gravel, you spun around. Your face meeting a bay mare. She snorted in your face, one of the ranch hands stared down at you from their mounted place on the steed.

“Ya lost lil lady? Dont think you were invited out here were ya missy?” He questioned, circling you on his horse. He was a dark skinned male, hair well kept and short. A brown hat laid neatly on his head as he held onto his reins, his mare chewing on her bit. She looked strong, and mean.

“Here for a job, did Mr Riley not expect me to be coming?” You question, his face immediately filled with confusion, like he had never heard that you were coming. The ranch hand grabbed onto his horses reins, starting to walk away.

“Main house is down the path. He’ll meet you there.” And with that the cowboy rode off, never telling you his name, nobody seemed to be friendly here. The deer, the elk, the bears, the wolves, the bison. Nothing here seemed like it wanted an outsider. Sure you weren’t from the city, you were from a small town. But seeing this ranch? It was 10x the size of your home town.

You moved further into the property, once you got near the main house you saw a man with a Mohawk, his eyes landing on you as him and the masked man beside him paused. Staring at you with curiosity, the man with the Mohawk whispering to the masked man, both looking at you.

You step up onto the porch, both men towering over you.

“Is Mr Riley here, I was supposed to discuss with him about me working here, he said to come, so I did.” You spoke clearly, the masked man stepped forward, taking off his hat from his head and reaching out to shake your hand.

“I’m him. It’s nice to meet you (we will decide on a name, leave ideas in comments), I’m sure you will be a great help on this ranch. After you get settled in, in the bunk house, you’ll go to the stable and pick out a horse, course you gotta earn it first. I’m sure you will though.” He spoke as you both shook hands, his hand was much massive than yours. The man with the Mohawk watched you both.

“This man right here is John. He’ll take you down to the stable to get settled in.” Simon nodded to the ranch hand who left the porch. The rancher nodded to you, signaling to follow the Scot.

John stood about 6’1. He was walking at a quick pace, more so curious on how the boys would react to you. Once you both stopped at the bunk house he stepped in first, the building was a cabin like house, once you stepped in you were greeted with a small kitchen, 12 beds, or 6 bunks in all. All the men inside the bunk house stopped to just stare at you. (Soap)

One with a beard. Short hair, he was about 6’3. He cocked an eyebrow at the sight of you, this would be interesting. (Price)

Another man had black hair, he stopped mid conversation to look at you with another bunk mate. His voice was full of a Spanish accent, he was Mexican from what you could tell. Standin at about 6’2 (Alejandro)

The brown skinned male stood by the other guys, he was 6’0ft. A smile on his face which quickly faded at the sight of you, he didn’t seem too pleased. (Gaz)

And then there was an American, he had blonde hair and blue eyes, a scar on his left cheek from a cut wound it looked like. 6’2. (Graves)

And a few other randoms scattered here and there.

“You here to wash dishes? It would give us more time to work on the ranch, you know, the man’s work.” One of them called out, all of them followed with a laugh at the snarky remark. You looked around for free bunks, quickly snagging one and starting to unpack, you made sure to not let your hat touch your bed. Even if it was just a myth, better to be safe than sorry.

The Scot Called out, “(___), this is Kyle, john but he prefers price, Philip or graves, Alejandro, and a few others. Hopefully you’ll settle in just fine, we like our pillows fluffed before we come back in for the night though.” He teased degradingly, gaz graves and Alejandro laughing along with the joke. Like hyenas.

You grabbed your hat, putting it on your head and quickly leaving the bunk house, listening as the men laughed at their awful jokes. You made your way up to the main house, Simon was sitting on the porch.

“You get along good?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow at the way your face looked, disappointed and frustrated. “Hm, I see. Why don’t we go get you a horse, something to your liking.” He stood up, Simon stood at a staggering 6’5 he put his hand on your lower back, noticing the way you jolted away from his hand.

He took notice of that, you seemed skittish when touched. Simon led you down to the stable, “most of these horses are broke, but I’ll tell you what, you stay on it while it’s bucking. I’ll give it to you, free of any charge. But you gotta stay on for 8 seconds.”

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reviewdiaries · 9 months

Text

Nancy x Ace and the riddle of knowledge in 4x11

The sweet smell of being right on the money, I love it. You know what else I love? The development in this episode. Because things in Horseshoe Bay have gone from suspicious AF to completely demented, and I am HERE FOR IT.

We finally have confirmation for why things have felt so off these last few episodes. And we’ve started to explore the jenga puzzle, if I remove this one thing - vanished as though it never existed - what else falls down? What other relationships and feelings change? Can they be pieced back together again?

Let’s start with my boy Ace, because I personally am really enjoying his storyline. Do I completely get where the frustration lies for those who would have liked to see more pining and curse breaking and TENSION? Absolutely. I too would have loved that, because Ace and Nancy serve up delicious tension for breakfast, and it’s a treat to watch it. But I’m also genuinely enjoying seeing what we’ve got, because it’s all about growth.

Ace has been given time and space this series to find himself and flourish. He’s fought through heartbreak, and yes, that heartbreak has been distorted, we know that now. Can feel the chiming sense of wrong wrong wrong, how his feelings towards Nancy have shifted, vanishing like smoke in the air. Memories and feelings erased until there’s nothing left but the bare bones of a friendship and an aching sense of something gone - reaching for his phone in the middle of the night before realising he has no idea why. Because suddenly he’s left with the sense of a relationship that stalled before it could start, an idle heartbreak, the feeling of throwing himself into work, into the next mystery, the next person who shows an interest. A tension under his skin that he can’t ever explain. But he’s found a job that he loves, he’s carving out his own space, learning where to prioritise, where the important parts of him lie, where they join together, and how to take up his own space in the world.

His sense of self worth is still battered, his issues with his parents rampant, but he’s starting to hold his ground, mark his own boundaries, find an inner steel we’ve not yet seen in him. He’s always been so quick to please, to try and do what others have wanted, and this episode we’re finally seeing him stand his ground.

We haven’t ever seen his parents come into his space before, and we get that not once but three times in this episode. We see the tension and friction between him and his father (which we haven’t seen much of but was alluded to greatly in the first couple of seasons) and we see how his mother tries desperately to keep the peace whilst supporting her son.

GIF Credit @goodobservationshirley

I love this moment. Because Rebbeca is right. The Claw is absolutely Ace’s house, and that means that she and his father are coming to him to lead, they are stepping into his space and they are going to treat it as his, can acknowledge that it’s his, which is such a huge thing. Sure his dad is dismissive and thinks it’s going to go terribly, but that line is drawn. This is Ace’s space, and that means he is the head of the house.

As he becomes more preoccupied with his ghost he becomes less passive with his father. He stands up for himself, he refuses to be cowed by the disappointment, the expected failure. He does this on his terms. And yeah, he stumbles at the start, but he doesn’t let that phase him, he carries on, he leads. He steps into his own and it is such a joy to see. By the end of the episode we have that beautiful moment where his dad comes to tell him how well he did. And moments like this? They’re everything. The growth, the evolution of their relationship. The way they start to meet each other as equals instead of Ace cowering before his dad, it’s amazing to watch.

And then the confrontation with Nancy. Oh guys, they needed this. Sure, it’s about the ghost, not about them. How can they get this argument out when they don’t even remember their feelings for each other? But this is the first time that Ace asserts himself. Stop. I do not consent to what you’ve done. Stop. He never stands up to Nancy. Never holds space for himself, for his needs. The closest we’ve seen him come is 4x02 when he’s desperately pushing for her to tell him what he’s missing. But even then he doesn’t come out and say it, he doesn’t communicate effectively, doesn’t express himself. He acts the part of the spurned wife, veiling everything behind passive aggressive snark and stone wall silence.

This is everything. This is beautiful. This is communication. Expressing what he needs, what he wants, and refusing to back down. This is everything that they have been missing. I’ve said it over and over and over this season, so much of their problem has been their inability or willingness to communicate openly with each other. And here, laying down the groundwork, is the first step. The first flag Ace is planting. A map of muscle memory for the next time he needs to hold his head high and say stop, no, this is not what I want.

But as he starts to find those boundaries, Nancy is finding her sense of self eroded. She is floundering, desperate, panicked by the timeline she’s been thrust into, desperate now she knows there are too smooth edges where her memories have been stitched together. Suddenly she doesn’t know herself, doesn’t trust herself. What is her and what is what’s left behind when it’s been taken - the trip on the pavement versus the assault? What would she do, what could she possibly have deemed so bad it had to be removed? Because this Nancy, the Nancy with the pieces removed, she doesn’t have the framework of her love for Ace, the undying certainty that she would do anything for the man she loves, even tear herself to pieces with her bare hands and a handful of words whispered in the dark. She only has an aching sense of loss and a hundred shifting pieces she can no longer make sense of.

So she goes back to the basics. Back to the handful of things she can hold onto, the facts of the case. Over and over and over as she spirals into panic and fear and the desperate certainty that she is broken beyond repair, irredeemable, lost and alone.

She knows the date. She knows the time. She knows the call log on her phone. The memories are gone but the facts are there. A handful of truths to hold onto and whisper to herself in the dark. We have seen Nancy at her best and at her worst. But even at her worst - lost in the depths of the Hudson name and sure that she can only be the worst version of herself, she knew her mind. Trusted her memories. Could hold onto the pieces of her that she knew to be true. But this, this is a violation that she knows is self inflicted. A scalpel precise removal of pieces of her she doesn’t even know to miss.

We now have a definitive timeline - Ace called Nancy after the boat trip, after the memorial, her hair still wet from washing buttercream icing out. There’s around twenty minutes between that and her going to call on the Sin Eater. And Nancy, because she’s shaken, she’s been given proof that she’s done something she can’t imagine ever doing, no longer trusts herself, no longer trusts what she’d do, what terrible atrocities she could commit. She goes to Ace and tells him that she thinks they are responsible for the Jane Doe.

GIF Credit @whitefluffyyeti

But that doesn’t track, that doesn’t make sense. The Nancy we know and love would never try and erase a murder, cover up something terrible. She’d face it head on, hold herself to the same truth and justice ideal that she holds everyone to, because as far as she’s concerned she’s not special, she’s not above this. If she did something wrong she’d take herself to the police station and confess.

So that’s not it.

But Nancy would also do absolutely anything for those she loves. Not murder, not hiding something like that. But she would absolutely run to the Yacht Club to erase something to save someone she loves, someone like Ace. It’s something time critical, otherwise why would she go there so quickly. She’s desperate. But it’s not something illegal, no for that she’d call Carson, get a lawyer involved, get it sorted out the right way. She’s not always stayed on the right side of the law - too many opportunities to show up the police when they can’t do their jobs, use her lockpicks, her sleuthing beanie. But if it was something illegal, something bad, something murderous, there is no way she’d erase it, she’d work on building the strongest defence possible, but she wouldn’t undo it.

I don’t believe it’s that they accidentally triggered the curse either. We’ve seen before, the Sin Eater erases the memory, it can’t undo the damage. If the curse were triggered, if Ace were doomed to die, the Sin Eater wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop it.

So what does that leave? I genuinely have no clue. There are some great theories floating around about that night, about the Captain of the ship mysteriously cancelling, about the curse that Ace drops overboard. Something about that is off. And we can no longer trust what we’re being shown as viewers. Is what we see the truth? Or is it the altered version after the Sin Eater has removed it from the characters’ collective consciousness? Did Ace and his dad have a lovely bonding fishing trip or did something else happen? Did Nancy and Ace actually have that conversation as we saw it? Clearly not. But what have we had erased? What parts are missing? What jigsaw pieces are we going to be gifted to fill in to make the picture make sense?

My two cents, for what they’re worth - I don’t believe the ghost and the Jane Doe are the same. I think these are two things thrown together to make us think they’re the same. If the Captain theory holds true I’m willing to bet that they’re the burned corpse. But I think the ghost is the figurehead from The Governance.

The Governance was stormed away from its original course thanks to the Aglaeca - thanks founders and your truly terrible treatment of women. Like I was in a storm.

They then ripped the boat to pieces and left the figurehead as a protector of the Black Door, literally in the basement. The sky is gone.

The figurehead that has watched over as they tried over and over to merge the Sin Eater with the stolen children. There’s only one left.

She’s ethereal, not wearing the clothes she died in, but a white robe - like an angel, like a woman in white, like a being of magic. And Nancy Drew have been at great pains to point out throughout that there is a balance. Plugonia - plural, one doll for evil, one for light. What if the figurehead is not just a watcher, but part of the literal balance of the Sin Eater?

Now, @flythesail has done a truly excellent post exploring this theory which makes me feel much less like I’m going crazy connecting dots that aren’t there, and I highly recommend checking it out, because she does a fab job exploring the ideas of reincarnation that the writers are bringing into play this season, and makes a very compelling argument for this.

And once you start putting those pieces in, suddenly Nancy and Ace behaving as they are over the ghost and Tristan begins to make even more sense than memory erasure and heartbreak. And honestly, that’s not a sentence I ever thought I’d say.

But the thread has been found - how can you find a thread to pull when you don’t even know it’s missing waiting to be discovered? Against all the odds the photo, the timeline, it’s starting to emerge. And we know how Nancy gets once there’s a mystery. That desperate all consuming urge to uncover the truth, the light, the justice for a town steeped in darkness and secrets, for the people caught up in the web, for herself.

#nancy drew #nancy drew cw #nancy x ace #ace [redacted]#cw nancy drew #nace #nancy drew spoilers #nancy drew analysis #nancy drew meta #naceedit #nancy drew 4x11 #nancy drew 4.11 #the sinner's sacrifice #my two favourite idiots #i've connected the dots #well #some of them #maybe #if you squint

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tothesolarium · 4 months

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The Descent of Venus (This is my favorite Chapter, if you only read one I recommend this one)

Chapter Five

How are Demons born?

There is the tale of the fall,

Then there is a story of Earth

A God from one religion, who lived along others

For one people he was a provider, a protector

The rain that sustained harvest

The lightning that kept haunts at bay

For others - he was competition.

His name was twisted,

From insult, now cried Demon!

No King, No Love, Simply fear

Ba’al, Ba’al Zezul, Prince, Harvest, Guardian

Ba’al Zezul was a Weather god, his name meaning Lord of the Lofty House. He was a Hero, a bringer of rain, thunder was his voice, a strike of lightning his might. The rolling clouds his divine entourage.

First, his proper title was twisted. The Lord of the Lofty house was weak work, the bringer of the harvest was unimportant for a king. This did not make his people lose pride. So Ba’al Zezul’s name was twisted further, to Ba’al Zebub, Lord of Dung and Flies.

Baʿal Zəvûv

Ba'al Zəbûl

Ba'al Zəbûb

Baalzebub

Beelzebub

His people were killed before the word genocide was coined beyond being seen as Divine Right.

Hell lacked definition. The fallen Angels knew nothing of their boundaries. Let alone what the Earth and Sky provide. They folded like the Ocean and fabric cast into it.

While some might know souls were dying in the wreckage, at most they could shelter a few in their bulk. Which required care and precession. A breath too deep could still be fatal.

When Beelzebub fell, it was through the sky. With wind that tore at his skin, moisture robbed from his lungs and ground waiting to crush him. This new ground and sky were canvas quickly claimed, with water and fire rushing to lay their mark.

This definition is not Beelzebub’s power, but a stubborn understanding that no amount of torment would take from him. Beelzebub’s bones knew of a God who was only clouds and, who made love with the Earth and rejoiced in rain. Knew A father who was clever and jealous, who needed to be healed. Returning to that was not something Beelzebub could withstand, nor would he perish.

Life would much rather have its unique shape than be forced together in one mass.

While Beelzebub’s bones might know these memories. His mouth tasted like metal and soot when he tried to remember.

Once his vision stopped spinning enough for him to make out what was under him. He was met with a mountain on fire, and an emerald ocean with glittering teeth hiding under the waves.

It wasn’t a controlled summon, but Beelzebub grabbed at the water he had lost and managed enough of a cloud to carry him over the raging mountain.

This trick did not feel like it worked. For he now fell into darkness. It took falling into the ash for him to see the rolling dunes of darkness. This land was too soft to be sand and still smelled like the fire that made it.

Beelzebub coughed and wheezed as he tried to fill his lungs again. The air was nothing like he was used to, it was so bare and empty. There wasn’t a scrap of water in the vast ashen plane. No plants or animals. Just a waste of nothing.

Beelzebub could only look up for a moment. The sky was blindly empty, registering in his mind as white, but truly it was nothing. So Beelzebub felt the silky ash slip through his fingers and felt his bones ache. Inarticulate memories of fires taking fields, of people panicking to hide their works of art, of a boy trying to lead a cow out of the fire. Beelzebub’s body ached, and he forced himself to stand up.

Instead of lingering in the haze, Beelzebub marched forward. Eventually, he found a slightly taller dune, he climbed it and tried to see if there was anything. From the top of the hill, he clicked his tongue as his hands rested on his hips. This was not a desert at all, and this wasn’t a dune, but radiating waves. In the center was a crater, that looked marble size, but Beelzebub knew it meant he had a lot of walking to do. There were white specks on opposite edges of the crater.

It was a steady walk up and down the waves to reach the white speck. It took days but Beelzebub could not tell, his body ached and more did not feel like much. The speck stood up like a tower but was just a thin bone worn by the wind.

“Are you dead?” Beelzebub rested a hand on the bone.

“Yes,” the ground shook with the graveled voice.

“Ah,” Beelzebub’s face scrunches up as he tries to figure out what that means. There were the carcasses of some bugs that had picked the bone clean lying on the sand around the bone.

“You’re lying, right?” Beelzebub asks.

“No,” The bone shifts slightly, slipping deeper into the ash.

“I don’t believe you,” Beelzebub says as he crouches by the bone, brushing the hollow bugs away.

“We are all dead!” the darkness roars, shaking the ground enough that Beelzebub falls.

“Huh, it doesn’t feel like it.” Beelzebub pinches his arm, and winces. “Yah I don’t think so,”

“Then go rot somewhere else,”

“Are you rotting?” Beelzebub’s head tilts to the side.

“We all are,”

Beelzebub nods a little and then starts to scoop up the ash into his arms and carry it away.

“What are you?” Beelzebub asks as he gets another arm full.

“Your doom, now leave!”

“Why?”

“I will kill you,” The ground snaps.

“Try it,” Beelzebub sits down cross-legged, and the ground doesn’t even shake.

“The longer you are here the longer your suffering will be,” The ground finally grumbles.

“I’m not sure if that’ll change if I leave,” Beelzebub says evenly, and returns to carrying away arm fulls of ash.

“Whatever you are doing, stop it,” The ground shakes as Beelzebub starts to reveal the remains of two spread-out wings. Even what was buried in ash is still picked dry.

“You are walking on my back!” the voice wails, and this time Beelzebub stops.

“Am I hurting you?”

“Yes, you idiot!”

“That was not my intent,” Beelzebub walks more carefully, avoiding where he thinks the being might be.

“Imbecilic,” The ground growled.

Beelzebub nods but keeps digging. Before he reaches the creature’s back, he finds a second set of wings. These were buried before bugs could get to them and were starting to decay into oil. Feathers are now black and slick together. Beelzebub had to be even more careful around these, as the feathers wanted to peel away from the skin, much to the pain of the creature below.

“Please, Leave me.” The creature begs.

Beelzebub pauses for a moment, taking in deep breaths.

“Are you that desperate for something to eat?” The voice croaks.

“No,” another deep breath, Beelzebub’s lungs burn. Something in his bones knew to keep going, to keep pushing through his pain.

“What do you want from me then?” The voice raged and ended up shifting further down.

“Nothing,” Beelzebub mutters. The sand was becoming more of a problem. So what Beelzebub had been wearing, now became a bag to scoop sand away and drag it far off.

“Liar, no one digs for nothing. There is no treasure here! There is no gold or fruit to plunder. Only damnation!” The voice howls and tries to swallow a sob. Beelzebub continued but kept thinking about whoever lay below.

Beelzebub could now smell blood, but it was a third set of wings. Or more so bones in a pool of oil. While it was disgusting to drop into the pool of oil, now he could feel the creature’s back. He looped around some so thin they felt like a bundle of twigs, with only a faint heat showing they were indeed alive.

“I will kill you!” the young man howled, his head arched out from the murk and he bit into Beelzebub. However his teeth barely sunk into the skin, and his muscles were too weak to keep his head up.

“When was the last you ate?” Beelzebub remarks as he stumbles back up the hill.

“You won’t eat me up!” The thin man claws at Beelzebub’s arms. With this and the drag of three sets of wings, Beelzebub fell backward. The Stranger tries to get away, trying to fall down the hill but his wings were now caked in ash that weighed him down. Beelzebub took a moment to get the oil out of his eyes and got a good look at who he had gotten out.

The rotted wings were so much bigger than the young man, who, while barely able to lift himself, had the air of a prince nonetheless. With such a fierce expression Beelzebub knew it was against some cosmic code to touch this man or to even witness this misery. Even so, the young man’s ribs stood out like flags of surrender.

“Are you trying to fatten me up for your meal?” The man tried to glare, but oil kept dripping into his eyes.

“No, you just look starved.” Beelzebub shifts closer. “Here let me-“ Beelzebub tries to wipe the murk from the man’s face, only to get his fingers bitten. This time he breaks the skin, and Beelzebub watches his red blood drip down the man’s chin.

The man spits the blood from his mouth and tries to wipe his mouth and eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Beelzebub tries to reassure him, but molten eyes now glare at him.

“Then why did you not listen to me,” His lips pulled back, showing flat teeth that were starting to gain points.

“I…” Beelzebub shrugs, it was a feeling in his bones. “I had to,”

“Why?” The man’s face only becomes more twisted in disgust, but Beelzebub feels a strange warmth in his chest. Even battered, this stranger was stunning, and While Beelzebub tried to remain present. A part tried to imagine what the man had looked like before.

“Who wants to be buried alive?” Beelzebub asks, and the man’s nose wrinkles up.

“Well congratulations, you unleashed the worst evil in the world. Your reward will be eternal suffering.” The Man went on about being the most damned being to exist, but Beelzebub stopped paying attention. Instead, he cleans off his chest and arms.

“Are you ready?” Beelzebub asks.

“For what?“

“To get out?” Beelzebub gestures to the rest of the hill of ash they must climb. The man looks up at it and shakes his head.

“It’s alright, you don’t gotta do the work,” Beelzebub said while getting up, and then picked the man up like a bride. Who’s face contorts in rage and pain, and the wing of bone jerks up and cracks into the side of Beelzebub’s face.

“What do you think you are doing?!” The man asks through tears as Beelzebub sees stars.

“What… what am I doing?,” Beelzebub mutters, as his vision comes back together to see he is still holding to the broken prince.

“Now you think? after you’ve already taken my peace? And injured me? You are deplorable, the scum of the earth!” As the Prince kept ranting, Beelzebub saw there were hunks of gold stuck in the man’s head. Dark curls tried to hide the injuries, but pieces glittered now and then. Old blood dried like a river down his face, all this movement had reopened the wounds, and gold started to trickle along his jaw.

“…if that is truly what you want… then I guess it’s your right,” Beelzebub’s stomach drowns in a feeling he can’t name, and he sets the prince down. Then sits heavily, ash clings to his sweat.

The prince almost lays down, but his shaking arms keep him up. The Prince could barely hold his head up, but one molten eye kept staring at Beelzebub.

“You asked what I am, but what are you?” The prince asks, and Beelzebub shrugs.

“Beelzebub,” Even though this was the first time he’d said his new name, it came out easily.

“Beelzebub,” The prince tastes the name, his head hanging lower for a moment. Then jerks up as he holds a hand out to Beelzebub.

“Lucifer,” The Prince says with his chin raised, trying to ignore how his arm shook till Beelzebub took his thin hands within his own. Beelzebub’s palm alone engulfed Lucifer’s hand. “Why the sudden comfort?” Beelzebub raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t push your luck,” Lucifer’s lip curls slightly. “I can see that you aren’t any of my siblings or one of the new cursed monsters running around so-“ Lucifer’s lip curls up completely and then falls into a stiff line. “Makes you somewhat more- less insufferable.”

“Well…thanks,” Beelzebub says after a moment.

“And I need your muscle,” Lucifer glares at anywhere but Beelzebub, who tilts his head with a question. “We won’t get far with these wings,” Lucifer winces as he lies down on his stomach.

“What?” Beelzebub stares at him.

“Get rid of the dead weight,” Lucifer glared at Beelzebub, his molten eyes were the same color as the blood that trickled down his cheek.

“I… I can’t do that,” Beelzebub was surprised by the shake in his voice.

“I thought you were one kind of fool, but it seems you are the archetype itself,” Lucifer buries his face in the ash.

“I am not a fool, but-“ Beelzebub’s voice catches in his throat. “I don’t even know what you are and you want me to rid you of your beauty?”

“What beauty is in rotten flesh?”

“When it’s- what if they can heal?” Beelzebub’s mouth hangs open. The wings were a horrible sight, but through the pain, he could see hints of memories. Of soaring through the sky, a star, kissing a planet, there was so much that would never be.

“There is no going back from rot, only forward, let the dead decay,” Lucifer stares at the ground. “So unless you’d like all of me dying and wasting all your stupid efforts, then break these off.”

“Are you sure?” Beelzebub asks softly.

“I am no liar,” Lucifer huffs.

“Are you really-“

“Yes! Now stop dawdling and-” Lucifer’s voice lifted into a scream and Beelzebub worked quickly.

“I’m sorry-“

“Keep going!” Lucifer demands, even as his back arched and tears ran down his face. Beelzebub listens.

Lucifer looked even smaller with the wings lying to the side. Narrow shoulders and slight wrists, but the fire in his eyes rages. Through the sobs and gasps for air, Lucifer looks proud.

Now Beelzebub can carry Lucifer like a sack of flour, but he tried to hold him with more respect without touching the wounds. Lucifer’s head rests against Beelzebub’s shoulder, and as they walk Beelzebub can feel the cold golden blood drip across his hands.

Once they reach the lip of the crater. Beelzebub tries to gently set Lucifer down, but his strength starts to give. Once it’s clear Lucifer is not going to fall, Beelzebub collapses into the sand.

They lay on the silken ash. It coats their sweat and fills the wounds on Lucifer’s back.

“Where did you even come from?” Lucifer asks, and Beelzebub just points up. “How?” and Beelzebub can only shrug, then starts to get up.

“What are you doing?” Lucifer tries to move away.

“The wound on your head, can I clean it?”

“No,” Lucifer scowls.

“It won’t heal if it’s…full,” Beelzebub frowned.

“Are you a Healer?” Lucifer raises an eyebrow.

“No, but… good warriors can mend a wound,” Beelzebub says, and Lucifer’s lips pressed into a line.

“What sort of warrior were you?” Lucifer looked into Beelzebub’s steady brown eyes.

“I can’t remember, but if I am dead, then I wasn’t the best.”

“Did you die in battle?”

“Probably,” Beelzebub stares at his hands.

“Do you know who you fought against?” Lucifer could almost taste the familiarity. His lessons to prepare for the Red Dragon.

“I… it was to keep people safe,” Beelzebub’s eyebrows knit together. His bones ached, and felt horror at the memory of warmth soaking his hands.

“That’s what all kings say,” Lucifer rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches up.

“True,” Beelzebub tries to breathe the grief out of his body, but when that doesn’t work he shifts closer to Lucifer. “So, do you want gold in your head forever?”

“No,” Lucifer sighs.

Beelzebub lifted Lucifer into his lap with care and then looked at his stained hands with distress.

A memory in Beelzebub’s bones moved his hands. Her hands had guided him to this once before, to make a bowl of sand and gift it to….?. Beelzebub tried to remember her name, and he almost forgot the feeling of her hands on his. So he quickly spat into the sand and opened the wound on his fingers till his blood dripped into the pool.

“Please,” Beelzebub’s lips almost touched the sand as he whispered, and then he breathed upon the fluids, pushing them into the sand.

“Spit and blood?” Lucifer’s nose wrinkles up. Beelzebub barely glances over, as fresh water rushes up to meet his face. He sits up spluttering slightly, and Lucifer glares at the bubbling pool of water.

“How’d you do that?” Lucifer snaps, despite the light in his eyes. Beelzebub simply shrugs at Lucifer’s question and washes his hands.

“Magic?” Lucifer’s thoughts were full of fears, and the intense vulnerability of lying on someone’s lap.

“Could be,” Beelzebub starts to drip water onto the wounds on Lucifer’s head, trying to loosen the scabs.

“How’d you learn it,” Lucifer asks sharply, trying to ignore the pain as Beelzebub took hold of the first piece of ‘gold’ as Beelzebub had called it. Lucifer liked that idea much more than the reality.

“She taught me,” Beelzebub’s eyebrows pressed together.

“She?”

“She also told me about gold, and it only burns out of a furnace.” Beelzebub said calmly, as smoke sizzled from where he held the piece of ‘gold’.

“Stop touching it then!” Lucifer tries to sit up and swat the piece out of Beelzebub’s hands, but instead, Beelzebub lifts it into the white void, seeing how it is much too transparent to be gold. Lucifer falls against Beelzebub’s chest, one arm still up waving frantically at Beelzebub’s hand.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Lucifer snarls.

“Lies,” Beelzebub's flat tone hung in the air, till the princes' shoulders slump.

“A crown,” Then a tired laugh racks Lucifer, "a collar."

“That burns?” Beelzebub raises an eyebrow, knowing only the dogs one loves to be comfortable in collars. Lucifer’s arm falls.

“It’s a Halo… was the tool my- master used to keep his eyes on me, and empower my sword with his might. When I…fell, the Halo…” Lucifer’s lips scrunch up, and Beelzebub takes a better look at the wound. The Halo had dug into his skull, almost into the brain cavity.

“I’ll get it out,” Beelzebub drops the bit of Halo into the water, and it sizzles and turns a smoky white.

“If it hurts-“

“Doesn’t matter,” Beelzebub pulled another piece out, and Lucifer bit his lip. Eventually, Lucifer stares at the white void as Beelzebub continues his work.

“How did this happen?” Lucifer asks, pointing at the sky, and Beelzebub just shrugs.

“Is this what a sky is supposed to look like?”

“I think on Earth they’re blue.” Beelzebub ignored the ache in the memory, and how grey washes over his thoughts.

“You’ve been to Earth?” Lucifer’s eyes glitter and Beelzebub’s stomach fills with warmth.

“Sort of,”

“What was Earth like?”

“Beautiful,” Beelzebub smiles, “There is so much growing and trying to thrive. There is nothing like walking along a river,”

“I want to see it someday,” Lucifer looks up dreamily. “Are there any parts of Earth that look like this?”

“Uuh… if the sand was more tan and gold, and the sky blue?” Beelzebub nods. “Deserts can be harsh if you don't know how to listen to them, Few are bare sands, there are all sorts of plants, creatures, and rocks that can fill a desert, but even the emptiness is a beauty. If you know how to work with plants, you can keep the deserts from spreading far, but…” Beelzebub’s eyebrows knit together, feeling cities falling and a future that made his guts sick. Lucifer asks another question, and Beelzebub begins rattling again.

Or he tried to, but streaks of blue ran across the sky. Gold washed through the sand, gaining grit enough to hold rocks and a few cacti on the horizon.

“Did you do this?” Beelzebub breathes softly, and Lucifer shrugs a little.

#Welcome to Hell #Hell story #Hell #Lucifer #Beelzebub #demon #demons #story #my story #my art #oc #my oc #love #demonization #fantasy #art #digital #painting #digital art #illustration

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pitbullwithaship · 3 months

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DOCTOR WHO LIVEBLOG S4 EP13

HOLY COW IM DYING YALL

WHAT HE DIRECTED IT AT THE HAND

HES THE SAME

MICKEY AND JACKIE HOLY SHIT

He's so fucking fuck

Donna I love you

Ooh they're in a time lock that's really cool

Oh man that's fucked

Yay Sarah Jane and Mickey and Jackie and Martha omg

They're saying Exterminate in German!!! Lol

Rose and the Doctor are so cute

Why can Donna hear her heartbeat

Brilliant. All of them

Walk to their fates

TEAM TARDIS

Holy hell Donna Noooo

HEARTBEAT WHATS AHAPPENING HERE

Omg omg girlie that's time lord energy right there the watchamacalllit stufd

OMG ITS THIS CLIP LOL

YAS JACK PLAY DEAD

LOL LOL LOL I LOVE THIS OMG

That's insane

She is very worth it

Thata insane that's insane destined holy shit

Ooh she speaks German

Omg traitor woman?

Aww poor woman

YAY JACK

Ooh the three are inside the house

Dalek is very very insane

Oh shit oh shit jackie

Omg what us it doing

Oh food Jackie got out

THEY DISINTEGRATED

I hate Davros' voice but maybe that's just cuz of what he's saying

Holy shit he's insane

MICKEY AND JACK REUNITED

Aw Rose likes Martha

JUST LIKE EXPLODE THE EARTH WHAT

JACK AND MICKEY AND JACKIE AND SARAH JANE

Fuck don't guilt trip him so much (I mean yes this regeneration can be a dick sometimes but he's complicated! He's a complicated character!)

Omg omg doctor2 and Donna you better have figured it all out in time

Omg omg omg omg omg omg

DONNA YAY

DONNA HOLY HELL

OHyes

DoctorDonna!!!!

I love her ao much this is hilarious

This is amazing

Jackie looks on disapprovingly

JACK YOU DUDE

SUPREME DALEK HAS A CONCIENCE

Oh wow that's a lot of dying Daleks

Davros stop playing the victim

As it's meant to be flown this is amazing

K9 AAAHHHH

I love this so much

AS ITS MEANT TO BE FLOWN

Yeah Jackie don't touch anything

Oh wow that's amazing

This is so cute the teams all together god (can you tell my favorite trope is found family)

HUGGING LOTS OF HUGGING

Everybody hugs!!!

Awwww

Aww maybe Martha's joining Torchwood

Aww Mickey

BAD WOLF BAY

Donna oh my gosh

Awww he can spend it with her

It's so cute

And so sad

I LOVE YOU AAAAAHHHHH AAAAHHHHH AAAHHHH AAHHHHH KISS

And other Doctor leaves with Donna omg this is so happysadterribleanamazingendingforrose holt crap

Binary x100 jeezus

Oh no Donna

Doctor is so sad

Oh Donna

Oh Doctor

FUCK THIS IS SAD AGAIN

...and the worst of times but the best are the best and they are times

One last HUG FUCK

Okay definitely not what she wanted consent and all but he's incredibly traumatized and doesn't want to lose anyone else so I kinda understand

Fuck he's just a story for her Fuck

This is breaking my heart

Aww poor Doctor

Fuck I'm crying

He's a fucking wetpuppydog in the rain fuck sadness

WILF IM CRYING

Alone again alone again (this song plays in my head a lot watching this damn show)

End note. End note. Fuck this I'm bawling my eyes out. Okay. All I can say is he's so frickin lonely and he's always the odd one out and "all the others have got someone" you idiot they love you you could crash on their fuckin couches for ten years and they'd fondly just deal with it cuz they love you you fuck. Aaaghh. But also I totally understand that as the third in a trio and the fifth in a fifth and the seventh in what should have been a six. But also dude. Develop an EQ please. And also I am crying so much, even more than frickin Doomsday made me cry. Fuck.

#doctor who #liveblogging #david tennant #tenth doctor #rose tyler #martha jones #donna noble #catherine tate #jack harkness #sarah jane smith #s4 ep13

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myhauntedsalem · 1 month

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The Grave of Meg Shelton

Lancashire, England

In the late seventeenth century the people of Woodplumpton, a small village in Lancashire, England believed a woman called Meg Shelton to be a witch. They claimed she would steal the milk from other people’s cattle and transform herself into animal form at night as she carried out her mischievous deeds. According to legend, when Meg was crushed to death by a barrel that pinned her to a wall when she was buried the town took extra precautions to prevent her and her powers from ever rising again. The townspeople buried her vertically, head first in the ground in a small, tight shaft so that if she tried to dig her way out she’d be going the wrong way. They then covered the hole with a large stone so that she may never escape. The stone remains to this day in the churchyard of St Anne’s Church accompanied by a small plaque warning visitors that the Witch of Woodplumpton lies buried beneath. This seemed to work as she was never seen again, although in the 1920’s a young boy said that he had seen a woman dressed in funny clothes wandering in the graveyard.

The famous Eye of God carved into the tower at Newchurch near Pendle Hill was said to keep evil at bay and similar symbols can be seen in ancient houses in the area. At a cottage in Rawtenstall is a witch’s post designed to stop evil coming down the chimney.

Many of the stories associated with Meg tell of her ability to change her appearance and how she would use this ability to cause mischief and steal from the local farmers. On one occasion a farmer became suspicious when he discovered that he had more sacks of corn piled up than there should have been. He grabbed a pitchfork and began to prod the sacks. Suddenly one of the sacks let out a scream and turned into Meg.

On another occasion a farmer looking into one of his fields where he kept his cows saw an old woman with a goose which was feeding on the grass. He thought nothing of it until he noticed that from the goose’s bill was dripping a white liquid. He rushed into the field and kicked the goose at which point it shattered into a thousand pieces spraying milk everywhere. Meg had been stealing milk and had turned her jug into a goose to fool the farmer. Meg screeched with rage and flew off.

One day a farmer saw a hare in one of his fields and set his great black dog after it. The hare moved like the wind but the dog was even faster and a desperate race ensued. Gradually the great black dog moved closer and closer but mysteriously the hare headed straight for Meg’s cottage and escaped through the front door but just at the last moment the dog managed to nip one of its hind legs. From that time on it was said that Meg walked with a pronounced limp!

So if you think someone has given you the evil eye, here are some remedies:

If you are bewitched

a cross made from rowan twigs is said to be effective

A lump of metal, such as an old key or sickle, put under the threshold stone or a broom laid across the doorway will keep evil at bay

Horseshoes nailed onto doors keep the luck in

Stones with holes in them, called hag stones or hex-stones, are very good when hung up at keeping out witches or devil-doings

In old houses have been found glass jars filled with bent nails. These were designed not only to ward off spells but to return the evil to those who had sent it

If this doesn’t work try salt. The purifying properties of salt are renown for destroying a witch’s power

Don’t forget to crumple old eggshells to prevent witches using them as boats or hiding in them

sounding church bells is a sure way to stop witches flying on their broomsticks.

#The Grave of Meg Shelton #England #a small village in Lancashire #ghost and hauntings #paranormal #ghost and spirits #haunted locations #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem #paranormal phenom

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conradscrime · 7 months

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The Strange Case of the Creamer Children

October 04, 2023

In 1906, two children disappeared from their front yard in broad daylight. A reporter known as "The Special Correspondent" went to the small village where the disappearances took place to investigate.

The Special Correspondent, a woman, who worked for the Daily Telegraph Saint John, New Brunswick's largest newspapers travelled to Cape Tormentine on the Bay of Fundy, to figure out what happened to the Creamer children.

In May of 1906, the Special Correspondent took a train and travelled to the village. What was known was that two children, Ollie, a 5 year old girl and her brother Ralph, 3 years old at the time, had disappeared in the day, while their parents were inside the house. The Creamer parents claimed they had only not been watching the children for 10 minutes. A search was conducted for the children, but to no avail.

The reporter went to the Creamer farm and wanted to speak with John Creamer, their father. It was told to the reporter that John had searched for his children for an hour in the woods, but had then become ill and could no longer search, going back to his room. He could not be woken up while the reporter was there.

The reporter did speak with Ruth, the children's mother who told her the children went outside around 5pm to pick white violets, with their older sister Geneva, who was 7 years old. Ruth watched them from the window. After an hour, Ruth said she felt uneasy and anxious.

Ruth said Geneva came back inside but did not say anything alarmingly or that Ollie and Ralph vanished. Geneva said she left the children outside and Ollie had been talking to 17 year old neighbour Russell Trenholm. Russell invited Ollie to help him look for cows.

Russell was also interviewed but he claimed the children asked him if they could help him look for cows to which he replied they couldn't. Russell claimed he walked away but the children followed him. Russell then told the Creamer children they better go back home.

Russell then told the reporter, "I suppose they think I killed them?"

The special reporter covered this story in the newspapers, and soon it gained media attention. Newspapers in big cities were reported tons of missing children, however these children were all shortly found and told to have been making up stories and pretending they too, like the Creamer children, were missing.

Due to the great attention the case was receiving in the newspapers, the province's Attorney General sent help, and about 200 militia soldiers were went to look for the missing children.

The special reporter went back to the Creamer farm and was able to talk to John Creamer, the father, in person this time. John said that he often looks towards the woods and hopes that his children are still out there somewhere.

The reporter also spoke to Ruth again who claimed she had been interviewed again by the authorities. The Magistrate had asked Ruth for garments of the children, and asked why Ruth had not washed them. Ruth claimed it was because if they sent bloodhounds they would be able to pick up the scent more.

The Magistrate told Ruth this clearly proved that the children were not kidnapped, though research does not know the reasoning for this.

The reporter noted that Ruth Creamer did not appear very emotional towards her children's disappearance.

The reporter then took a walk through the woods, remembering that Russell had claimed after he failed to find cows the day of the children's disappearance he had walked to his grandmother's house. His grandmother's house was about a 10 minute walk.

The search for the children continued and the militia found a single thread of red cloth that was 3-4 inches long. This was compared to a sample of Ralph's clothing and it was a match. Ruth Creamer however, denied this was part of her son's clothing.

The disappearance soon became known in the newspapers as "Babes in the woods." Newspapers at one point even reached out to a psychic to see if they could figure out what happened to Ollie and Ralph.

The psychic claimed the children had indeed been kidnapped, by a rough looking farmer man, who was working with a big fat man. According to this description, the special reporter believed it matched what Russell looked like.

Soon, newspapers began reporting that the Creamer children must be deceased at this point.

Ruth Creamer was interviewed again by the special reporter, in which it was discussed how the day before Ollie disappeared she complained to her mother that a man had tried to act "indecent" towards her.

Ruth seemed shocked the reporter asked about this, but she admitted it was true.

At this point it had been 20 days since Ollie and Ralph disappeared and authorities wanted the special reporter to assist them in interviewing the Creamers and Trenholm's. The authorities were suspecting foul play but claimed there is no motive.

Authorities did not believe someone could have kidnapped the children so easily and go unnoticed.

When Russell was questioned there was a discrepancy in his story, with him claiming he reached his grandmother's house at 6pm and his grandmother noting that he did not arrive there until 7pm.

It did not appear that the authorities were able to get much more information out of Russell Trenholm, John or Ruth Creamer. The special reporter eventually went back to Saint John and the search for the children was called off.

Shortly after, with the newspapers having not much to report, people lost interest in the case and it was forgotten.

It wasn't until a curious note from a 1984 book called Glimpses of the Past by Michael MacKenzie came to be, that perhaps an answer to what happened to the Creamer children was known.

According to Michael MacKenzie, an old man showed up to the village about 60 years after the children disappeared and began asking strange questions to people.

The man asked people if they recognized him and if they remembered a man named John Creamer. The old man said John was his father and that when he was little his mother told him his father had been abusive so she sent her kids away from him for safety.

The man claimed one day his father had passed out drunk, and his mother had someone take him and his sister into the woods to meet their brother who was waiting for them with a wagon.

Him and his sister were hidden in the wagon and taken to the Cape Tormentine railway station. Their uncle took them on the train to Toronto, Ontario, where they lived with their grandparents. The man said his mother did not go with as she was trying to distract the police from searching for them.

Eventually, after the search and interest was lost, their mother and older sister did join them in Ontario.

It appeared that all these years later none of the locals knew what this man was talking about so nothing much came of it. Perhaps this strange older man really was Ralph Creamer, and perhaps his story was true.

The disappearance of the Creamer children still remains a mystery on the internet.

#true crime #crime #unsolved mysteries #unsolved #murder #homicide #unsolved murder #unsolved case #solved #mystery #unsolved crime

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bigbelsammy · 1 year

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I’m massive

It all started about 7 months ago. It was so sudden too! This 6’7 guy and I hooked up at a party in college, after a hot night of sex with petty much a giant I never saw him again. This asshole…. After a month or so I realized my period was late. It’s never late. I went directly to the nearest pharmacy. I was so nervous that I had to stop for some fast food. What kind? The greasiest, most filling, most oily burgers In town. Either way, I bought a pregnancy test and sure enough.. I was pregnant… me, Tiffany… the 4’9 girl with black hair, always dressed in nice cardigans and tank tops, with jeans and my books in my hands. I was pregnant with the baby of a 6’7 giant dude… who knows what kind of bay he was!! I was so sure I was gonna become huge! This guy was probably some sort of 15lbs mega baby! And now I’m growing his offspring inside me! it was surreal! What was the next thing I did? I ordered a pizza, an Xlarge extra cheese extra peperoni pizza to go for myself. I tend to eat a lot in stressful situations and I knew this was not gonna be easy.

I called my bestie, jessie. For all I knew she was the only person there for me now

“Hey jessie…”

“Hey tiff, what’s up?”

“Can we... meet up at my house? I gotta tell you something.”

“Sure sweetie, Ill be there at 6 after work”

What was I going to do! I drove home and simply sat on the couch while eating my pizza. I kept thinking about this super baby growing inside me… oh fuck what if it was twins!!!! Can I even carry 2 15-pound babies!?

The thoughts kept racing through my head and I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.. I’m 4’9! I’m gonna look huge before my third trimester! What the hell!

As I finished the pizza, the door rang. It was jessie. I got up from my seat, I was stuffed at the time I remember. Every thought in my mind was pointing at the fact that I’m gonna become huge

“j-jessie..”

“tiff what’s wrong? You’re scaring me”

“come on in..”

We both sat on the couch, and I had in my hand the pregnancy test and showed it to her

“omg sweetie! You’re pregnant?!”

“y-yeah…”

“who’s the father?”

“remember Sean? The guy I hooked up last month with?”

“the giant dude? The one that could probably pick you up with his hands?”

“yeah….”

“omg…. Well..holy… shit…”

I nodded, she’s right… I don’t even know if I’ll b able to birth them properly! They might have to open me. Although there is something I won’t be able to deny for long. I’m about to get absolutely massive.

I didn’t even know how I was gonna deal with it. And what if they were twins?! What would happen if I was growing this giant’s super babies?! Fuck!! I’m only a short girl!

My fear wasn’t without reason, the next few weeks I noticed my bump growing, and not at a slow rate. After only 3 weeks I was already showing a small bump. When I went for my first ultra sound after only 2 months, I was already having trouble fitting in my clothes. The baby inside me kept me constantly hungry too so eating was a must. I probably kept stuffing myself for those 2 months every day. I know more than half of the weight I put on was not baby weight.

“nnnngh!! Get. Pass. My. Giant. Butt you stupid jeans!!! Nnghphh…” getting my favorites jeans to fit was a constant struggle, my thighs had become huge. A single one was as thick as both my skinny thighs together.

“come onnnnnnn… why won’t this shirt cover me!!!” my belly was getting amazingly big every day. My shirts were barely able to cover me past my belly button and still my underbelly would be in the wide open. I was fast becoming a pregnant cow eating a sandwich while waddling down the street.

My second ultra sound was the big one. It’s where I found out something I was suspecting after a few months.

“good afternoon miss… Wolfson? That’s a peculiar name..”

“it’s a made up name doc… I changed it..”

“oh that explains it.. well how is momma-to-be today?”

“massive..”

“I can see that and I can see you’re only 3 months in? it’s certainly normal to be your size when you have multiples, specially if you’ve been eating”

“wait… multiples?” I didn’t know what he meant by that! How can I carry more than one 15lbs baby?!

“sure! You didn’t think you were only having one did you? Let me get the machine set up” he moved around the bed getting the ultrasound machine and using the probe to rub this gel on my tum. My belly button was already having a hard time being shallow, soon it would pop. But what worried me were my boobs who went from a b cup all the way to a double D after only 4 months. Still my belly was the one thing that was big enough to cover my feet eliminating any hope I would see them again.

As he used the probe moving it around an image started appearing.

“there I see one head…. 2…”

“2?! Doc are you sure?”

“oh yes and.. oh? Look number 3!”

“3?! Doc I can’t ne carrying three babies!”

“no you’re right because I’m seeing baby number 4 right there”

4!!! 4 babies! Four massive babies growing inside my 4’9 body!! How the hell! He must have had some super sperm or something! Because ain’t no way I was carrying 4 over developed babies!

“d-doc… are you sure?”

“yeah and I think that’s it. Well given your condition you’re gonna have to go into a strict diet and make sure your babies are well fed. At the end of the line you might have to adjust your house or apartment If you don’t have a nurse in order to move around. It can certainly be a challenge and you will most likely be bed bound by the end of it. So please do take necessary precautions to prevent anything from happening”

I could not believe it… I was carrying 4… and not from some skinny 5’7 guy, these were from a 6’7 massive dude that I could tell he was some sort of mutant super baby! And I’m carrying 4 of him!

I immediately went to the first fast food place I could find and ordered 5 of the biggest burger meals they had. Why? Because I need to eat!

My belly was already massive I front of me, but as I ate my belly button started to show up, my shirt riding over it and people just staring. I guess it’s not everyday you see a super pregnant girl eat in public like this.

the more the months passed, the more I grew not only my bump but I also started getting fatter. Way fatter than what I should be. My arms started developing fat around them, my thighs and ass grew and grew more but my belly stuck out so far in front of my it rubbed against the steering wheel of my car every time I drove. It was also getting hard getting through door frames. The skinny 4’9 girl soon became a 300lbs brood mother carrying 60lbs of pure babies.

At my 7 month, it was already getting hard enough to walk around at all. My bump towered over me each morning. All I could see was this mountain of flesh on top of me, my boobs almost smothered me in my sleep. I could not see them but I could tell I started leaking a lot. Not only that but getting around my belly to satisfy my needs was getting to be a challenge too. I had to fit a remote-control vibrator to my bed and lay on it if I needed some release.

I went to see jessie on one occasion, she was so In love with this new form of mine every time we saw each other she would rub lotion on me and talk to my babies about anything.

“oh this one time, your mommy was at the gym and she had a treadmill running competition, she ran 25km in less time that it takes you guys to kick~”

“jessie.. please don’t make them kick… they get rowdy when they start.. and it’s uncomfortable”

“I know.. but I love seeing a kick here and there~…”

At that moment one of them kicked at the surface near my belly button where jessie was and her head went for a joy ride

“aaah!~ haiiii baby! It’s me, aunt jessie!!”

“uuugh…. i.. I think I should be going..”

“okay, just take care of the babies please~”

As I got to the door I notice how close I was to the frame, my figure could barely pass through it. It’s… fuck it’s amazing.

I got into my car, sliding the seat as far back as I could and still my belly was touching the steering wheel. Driving like this was pretty uncomfortable but there was a certain kinky element to it. In the last ew months as I kept growing I’ve been getting more and more in love with my own figure. Every bite, every inconvenience like reaching the top counter or squirming in bed to try and get up was such a turn on that I was staring to get horny at the littlest things.

When I got home I looked into my bag and the horror happened

“w-where are my keys?! D-did I leave them at jessie? i… I don’t wanna drive all the way back, she would probably keep me there another hour…”

In a panic I looked around and saw that my window was open, so I jumped (“jumped”) the bush, waddled myself to my window and opened it. I threw in my purse first with my phone in it. Then as quicky as I got the idea I also did the brilliant thing of trying to get through the window. Yeah, massive quad girl with 350lbs of blubber which 75lbs were just baby was trying to get through a window. That would obviously work (sarcasm)

“nnngh.. c-come on!!! Hhhmpppfff!! Nnngh aaaah!! Get through dammit!!” I kept pulling myself through and I probably should not have done it because eventually… I got stuck…

“aaaumpf!!! G-get assed it come one!! Nnnghpppppppffff aaaha!! Nnngh!” my belly was in all display trying to get through. My ass was sticking through my jeans more than any other time and I could tell my neighbours were looking at me.

Suddenly my babies inside me started shifting, as if they knew mommy needed to squeeze through

“aammmmpppff.. mmmmphph t-that’s it babies.. aahaa.. f-fuck stop moving that much!” the moves and kicks did turn me on severely, so much that if someone passed by and saw my ass sticking out, decide to have their way with me? I would probably beg for it.

“nnnnnngh.. o-okay almost there.. mmmmmmpphh… aaha gggggrrrrrnnnnn”

And just like that the movement inside me was enough to get me passed the tight window. When I did get inside I was so damm horny I desperately tried to get my hands down there. The first thing I did was head straight to the fridge, get something to drink like a weight shake and laid on bed right on top of the vibrator. I hoped to fuck it had batteries because I was not getting up anymore… in fact.. I don’t think I would be able to in about a week..

A request I’ve been meaning to write but never found the time for it. Here it is and I hope you all enjoy it

#thesamwriting #bellyexpansion #multiples pregnancy #pregnantinplaid

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mosneakers · 8 months

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Coraleye: Hi mama. You're on speaker, I'm here with Tycho.

Tycho: Hi Donna! How are things in Brindleton Bay? Did the rain clear up?

Donna: Hi sweetheart! Yes, it's a clear day today. Coraleye honey, you won't believe what happened this morning... Coraleye: What?!

Donna: Well remember how your father has been talking about moving Daisy-Belle's shed into the yard? So that she's closer to the house, so Grandpa can look at her? Well, Leanne's mom, Sadie Farmer? She came by to help us finally get that done. Grandpa loves it! He's been smiling quite a lot. Grandma says it probably reminds him of when he was young and would go cow-tipping with his buddies in... [trails off] anyway, he's quite happy.

Coraleye and Tycho's eyes light up in unision as they make eye contact and smile. Coraleye: What? That's great, Mama! I'm happy to hear he's progressing! They continue to talk a little more about Seymour's improvements before Donna adds more big news.

Donna: And guess what else? While Sadie was here, she offered me the opportunity to adopt some more animals from her farm. We decided on a tiny-goat, and an itty-bitty orange sheep!

Coraleye: Oh my gosh, that's too cute, I literally can't handle it! Send me pictures. Did you get one for me? Donna: Oh dear, I gotta go, love ya sweetie! Bye!

Meet Cheesecake (Goat) and Gingersnap (sheep)

#ts4 #Sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 story #Chestnut Ridge #ts4 gameplay #MD4 #sims 4 #Coraleye Darling #Tycho Curious #MD4season10 #Horse Ranch Gameplay #Curious Family Reunion #Donna Darling #Sadie Farmer #Cottage Living Gameplay #Brindleton Bay

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cowboymariner · 1 year

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Hey yall working on a soap/ghost fic so heres the first bit of it

Ghost sat quietly on the train. He wore a black beanie with a matching face cover to shield himself from the cold, and the public. The bottom hem of the mask tucked into his turtleneck, it was the most covered he could be without garnering unwanted attention. He sat listening to the quiet rumble of the train and absentmindedly picked at the leftover spackle on his fingernails—an unfortunate reminder of his most recent outburst.

Ghost hated being on leave, it just meant his old demons would come creeping back in, clawing at his delicate psyche. It inevitably meant he would drink himself numb, and when that didn't work he would begin breaking things, throwing whatever was nearby at the walls. Anything to keep those suffocating feelings at bay. In the morning he’d clean up the bits of ceramic from mugs or plates and sweep up glass from picture frames that hurt a bit too much to look at the night before. Cleaning up in silence before patching the walls where it was needed. Always ashamed of himself the next day. Embarrassed that he’d let himself get like that again, that he couldn't just snuff his own demons out. It had become a kind of pitiful routine for him. The house littered with spots that he promised himself he would repaint eventually. Yesterday was no different, except this morning as he cleaned up, he found his picture of the 141. Ghost, Price, Gaz, Soap even Alejandro and Rudy, the glass missing from the frame. He hadn't seen Alejandro and Rudy in quite some time but he still kept in touch with them. He hadn't seen Soap in over two years which is why the photograph had become so hard to look at.

Johnny had been discharged from the service after a mission had gone sideways, leaving him with severe damage to his right leg. Ghost remembers pulling him from the wreckage of a crumbled building, grateful Johnny was alive. The doctors said he’d recover. After months of physical therapy, Johnny was able to walk again but would always have a limp.

“Check it out L.t.,” he remembered Johnny saying, “I’m armed, with a government-sanctioned weapon.” As he swung his cane around making cartoonish wooshing noises.

That was Johnny, always making light of a situation. He was medically discharged not long after and returned home to Scotland, Ghost hadn't seen him since.

Ghosts turned toward the window, watching the countryside go by, occasionally dotted with cows. Johnny had always talked about how much he loved Scotland, how beautiful it was.

Ghost sat there watching the rolling hills and thinking about Johnny. It had been so long since he’d seen him. He slowly pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket and examined it, looking for answers. It was wrinkled and torn slightly from being folded so many times, the pencil on it smudged lightly. Scribbled across it was Johnny’s address. He had given it to him the last time he’d seen Johnny.

“Don't be a stranger L.t.,” Johnny smiled.

“I’m not your Leuitentet anymore Soap,” Ghost replied gruffly.

“I’m serious Ghost. Drop by anytime, day or night,” He insisted warmly. “Ye dinnae even have te call first.”

Ghost wordlessly took the note, read it, and put it in his pocket.

“Would you do me a favor?” Johnny asked.

Ghost looked at him waiting for him to continue.

“Dinnae forget your wee buddy Soap,” He joked with a grin. Again making light of the situation.

Ghost gave a soft smile, small enough for only Johnny to catch under the mask in response. Neither of them addressed the stubble sadness that hung between them. He could never forget Johnny.

Let me know if this is anything y'all are interested in, it might give me the motivation to keep writing and actually post it on ao3

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #ghostsoap fanfic #soapghost fanfic

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twoidiotwriters1 · 1 month

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The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Honestly the action that takes place in HoH is my favorite -Danny Words: 2,727 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

XXX: What Are Thooose?

"What are they?" The demigods stand together near the handrail and stare at the creatures wandering the streets of Venice.

Jason squints. "The mortals think they're stray dogs."

"Or pets roaming around," Piper suggests. "My dad shot a film in Venice once. I remember him telling me there were dogs everywhere. Venetians love dogs."

"But what are they?" Frank repeats Hazel's question. "They look like... starving, shaggy cows with sheepdog hair."

"Maybe they're harmless," Leo muses. "They're ignoring the mortals."

"Harmless!" Hedge laughs. "Valdez, how many harmless monsters have we met? We should just aim the ballistae and see what happens!"

"Uh, no," Leo looks at Ara. "General?"

"We follow Hecate's instructions," she replies, eyeing the creatures with distrust. "Let's look for our given address, and hope they'll ignore us."

"I agree," Frank sighs, looking grumpy. "It's the only way we're going to track down the owner of that book."

Leo has the book under his arm but draws it out when Frank mentions it. The address the Kerkopes gave them is written in a Post-it. "La Casa Nera," the boy reads. "Calle Frezzeria."

"The Black House," Nico hums. "Calle Frezzeria is the street."

"That's what I said," Ara nods.

Nico raises a brow. "I thought you only knew how to catcall in Italian."

"Lily threw a dagger at me last time I did it and I figured it was time to learn for real."

"You speak Italian?" Frank blurts out, looking at them.

Nico glances at him with a scowl before continuing. "Frank and Ara are right. We have to find that address. The only way to do it is to walk the city. Venice is a maze. We'll have to risk the crowds and those... whatever they are."

"Did you just admit I'm right?" Ara smiles.

"Don't push it."

Thunder booms a little ahead and Jason scowls at the nearing storm. "Maybe I should stay on board. Lots of venti in that storm last night. If they decide to attack the ship again..."

"We had venti?" Ara asks in surprise. "I didn't hear it!"

"We noticed," Nico replies. "You snored the whole night, I wonder how Leo managed to—"

"You talk in your sleep," she interrupts him before he tells Hedge she slept in Leo's room. "I have recordings."

"What—"

Coach interrupts them. "Well, I'm out, too. If you softhearted cupcakes are going to stroll through Venice without even whacking those furry animals on the head, forget it. I don't like boring expeditions."

"It's okay, Coach." Leo smirks. "We still have to repair the foremast. Then I need your help in the engine room. I've got an idea for a new installation."

"Well..." Piper looks around. "Whoever goes should be good with animals. I, uh... I'll admit I'm not great with cows."

"Those aren't cows," Ara retorts.

"I still pass."

"I'll go," Frank says.

Leo pats his shoulder and hands him the book. "Awesome. If you pass a hardware store, could you get me some two-by-fours and a gallon of tar?"

"Leo," Hazel scolds him, "it's not a shopping trip."

"I'll go with Frank," Nico declares.

"Uh..." Frank hesitates. "You're good with animals?"

The boy smirks. "Actually, most animals hate me. They can sense death. But there's something about this city... Lots of death. Restless spirits. If I go, I may be able to keep them at bay. Besides, as you noticed, I speak Italian."

Leo hesitates. "Lots of death, huh? Personally, I'm trying to avoid lots of death, but you guys have fun!"

"I'll go too," Ara places a hand on Frank's shoulder and senses his anxiety. "I'm good with animals. Hellhounds and Nemean lions love me."

"What about the repairs?" Leo asks, suddenly not as amused as before. "The new installation? I wanted to teach you how to do it!"

"I'll be back soon," she assures him. "If you wait for me, you can still show me."

Ara wants to keep an eye on Nico. She can't afford to lose him, Lily would kill her. She knows how to look after him now, so that's what she'll do.

"I'll go too," Hazel says right after. "So I can stop you two from killing each other."

Nico and Ara share a look. They can't act offended, that could easily happen if they're left unsupervised.

"All right, then," Nico turns around. "Let's go find the owner of that book."

At some point during their walk, Nico speaks to her quietly. "Lily would've loved coming here."

"Don't remind me," Ara makes a face.

"You're too quiet about her," he points out. "You guys fought? I know Lily was against you leaving..."

"The argument was because of you, actually."

"What?"

Hazel stumbles on a cobblestone and Frank catches her, but the movement makes the cow-dogs around look up and growl. Their gazes make Ara feel sick, and she has to avert hers.

"What are they?" It's her turn to ask with concern.

"Nice cows," Frank steps forward to protect the group. "Guys, I'm thinking we should back out of here slowly."

"I'm such a klutz," Hazel winces. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault," Nico points at the ground. "Look at your feet."

Ara and Nico move back in unison, and the roots try to follow their feet as they go. The plants are smelly, and the cow-dogs seem to like them a little too much, because the more they move, the more they pay attention to them.

"These roots seem to like demigods," Frank scowls.

Hazel reaches for her sword. "And the cow creatures like the roots."

"Don't touch it," Ara warns her. "They won't be nice if we tamper with their food."

"Don't meet their eyes either," Frank adds. "I'll distract them. You back up slowly toward that black house."

Ara frowns. "You're not staying here alone."

The plants speed up and reach their feet quickly, the creatures tense and growl. "Okay, change of plans," Frank says thinly. "Run!"

Nico and Hazel hurry to the Black House while Ara turns Almighty into a spear. Frank stands next to her screaming, seemingly trying to turn into some animal.

"No!" Frank screams at two creatures that leave the group to chase after their friends. "Me! I'm the rhino!"

"What?" Ara asks, striking one of the creatures.

"Nothing," Frank moves closer to her as the creatures encircle them. "I just... need to concentrate."

"If these were all Nemean lions, I'd have this in the bag," Ara sulks, and it gives Frank an idea.

"A lion," he says, looking up at the balcony of a nearby house.

He turns into a massive feline. Ara climbs on top of him and changes her spear to a bow and arrows, summoning Artemis's blessing. Frank jumps over the herd of monsters and as they go, Ara shoots at all the furry targets she spots in the area.

They get rid of most, but one jumps too close to Frank's face and releases a cloud of greenish fog. Ara holds her breath and moves away, but Frank is in killing mode, he roars and slashes through the creature and realizes his mistake too late.

"Frank! Frank!" Nico's screaming.

Frank turns back into a human and Ara slips off his back. His face is reddish and he can't stop coughing. Ara searches in her Octopi bag and pulls out the piece of fabric she'd used while fighting the Kerkopes to cover her mouth and nose, then places Frank's arm around her shoulder.

"Hold your breath!" She tells him, lifting her bow.

"Ara c'mon!" Nico urges her, he's killed the cows that had tried to chase after him and Hazel.

Ara grabs three arrows and shoots to get rid of the remaining cow-dogs. When they get to the archway, she realizes Hazel is unconscious.

"She got a blast of green gas right in the face," Nico explains. "I—I wasn't fast enough."

"It's okay," Ara eases him, though she's also concerned.

"We need to get her back to the ship," Frank says hoarsely.

More cow monsters approach, and Nico shakes his head. "We'll never make it on foot. Frank, turn into a giant eagle. Don't worry about us. Get her back to the Argo II!"

"Sounds like a good plan," Ara agrees. "Maybe Hedge will know what to do."

"Your friends can't help you," says a voice behind them. "They don't know the cure."

There, in the Black House's entrance, is a man dressed in all denim. A god.

"Who are—"

"Can you cure her?" Frank interrupts her.

"Of course," the god grins. "But you'd better hurry inside. I think you've angered every katobleps in Venice."

When they get Hazel on top of a table, Ara touches Frank's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he brushes off the question as well as her hand.

Ara's decided that she likes Frank because he's loyal and protective of the people he loves no matter what. He is Clarisse's brother through and through, a mellower version of her, which is nice, but just like her in all the good ways.

"What were those cow things?" Frank asks the god. "What did they do to her?"

"Katoblepones. Singular: katobleps. In English, it means down-looker. Called that because—"

"They're always looking down!" Nico hits his forehead. "Right. I remember reading about them."

Frank makes a face. "Now you remember?"

Nico looks slightly embarrassed as he explains. "I, uh... used to play this stupid card game when I was younger. Mythomagic. The katobleps was one of the monster cards."

"I played Mythomagic," Frank replies casually. "I never saw that card."

"It was in the Africanus Extreme expansion deck."

"Oh."

"Used to?" Ara raises a brow. "You still play with Lily when you visit us!"

"Shut up."

The god steps forward. "Are you done, ah, geeking out, as they say?"

"Right, sorry," Nico clears his throat. "Anyway, katoblepones have poison breath and a poison gaze. I thought they only lived in Africa."

"That's their native land," the man sighs. "They were accidentally imported to Venice hundreds of years ago. You've heard of Saint Mark?"

"Saints? They're not part of Greek mythology," Frank scowls.

"No, but Saint Mark is the patron saint of this city. He died in Egypt, oh, a long time ago. When the Venetians became powerful... well, the relics of saints were a big tourist attraction back in the Middle Ages. The Venetians decided to steal Saint Mark's remains and bring them to their big church of San Marco. They smuggled out his body in a barrel of pickled pig parts."

"That's... disgusting."

"That's religion," Ara corrects him.

"Yes," the god smiles. "The point is, you can't do something like that and not have consequences. The Venetians unintentionally smuggled something else out of Egypt—the katoblepones. They came here aboard that ship and have been breeding like rats ever since. They love the magical poison roots that grow here—swampy, foul-smelling plants that creep up from the canals. It makes their breath even more poisonous! Usually the monsters ignore mortals, but demigods... especially demigods who get in their way—"

"Got it," Frank interrupts him impatiently. "Can you cure her?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly?" Frank's eyes darken, and Ara sees the Ares in him. He reaches out and places his hand under Hazel's nose. "Nico, please tell me she's doing that death-trance thing, like you did in the bronze jar."

"I don't know if Hazel can do that," Nico winces. "Her dad is technically Pluto, not Hades, so—"

"Hades!" The unknown guy stumbles back. "So that's what I smell. Children of the Underworld? If I'd known that, I would never have let you in!"

"Hazel's a good person," Frank stands up straight. "You promised you would help her!"

"I did not promise."

"She's my sister," Nico seizes his sword. "I don't know who you are, but if you can cure her, you have to, or so help me by the River Styx—"

"Oh, blah, blah, blah!" The man turns Nico into a corn plant. "There! Children of Hades can't order me around! You should talk less and listen more. Now at least you have ears."

Ara laughs in delight, and then she stops. "Wait, I'm supposed to be looking after him," she looks at the god. "Turn him back!"

"No."

Frank steps back in alarm. "You're a god."

"Triptolemus." The man smiles. "My friends call me Trip, so don't call me that. And if you're another child of Hades—"

"Mars! Child of Mars!"

"Well... not much better. But perhaps you deserve to be something better than a corn plant. Sorghum? Sorghum is very nice."

"You don't wanna do that," Ara steps in. "Listen, mighty god of..." the girl looks around the room. "Farming. I'm Ara Jackson, my friends call me Birdy so you can't, and I'm the current daughter of Olympus. We found something that belongs to you."

Frank pulls out the old book from his backpack. "This is yours, right?"

"My almanac!" Triptolemus snatches the book out of the boy's grip and reads through its pages. "Oh, this is fabulous! Where did you find it?"

"Um, Bologna. There were these..." Ara gestures at him to shut up and Frank quickly redirects his speech. "Terrible monsters. We risked our lives, but Ara knew this was important to you. So could you maybe, you know, turn Nico back to normal and heal Hazel?"

"Hmm? Oh, heal them?" Triptolemus laughs. "I'm grateful for the book, of course. I can definitely let you go free, son of Mars. And I can't touch the daughter of Olympus, but I have a long-standing problem with Hades. After all, I owe my godly powers to Demeter!"

"You're holding onto a grudge that isn't even yours?" Ara scowls. "So what if he married Persephone? Even Demeter lives with him now!"

"It's a matter of principles," he shrugs. "When Demeter went searching for her daughter, scouring the whole earth, not many people would help her. Hecate lit her way at night with her torches. And I... well, when Demeter came to my part of Greece, I gave her a place to stay. I comforted her, gave her a meal, and offered my assistance. I didn't know she was a goddess at the time, but my good deed paid off. Later, Demeter rewarded me by making me a god of farming!"

"Wow," Frank states plainly. "Farming. Congratulations."

"I know! Pretty awesome, right? Anyway, Demeter never got along with Hades. So naturally, you know, I have to side with my patron goddess. Children of Hades—forget it! In fact, one of them—this Scythian king named Lynkos? When I tried to teach his countrymen about farming, he killed my right python!"

"Your... right python?"

The god shows them his broken chariot. "You see? No good! Ever since I lost my right python, I haven't been able to spread the word about farming—at least not in person. Now I have to resort to giving online courses."

"What?"

"Triptolemus Farming University!" He says, turning his computer to show them. "In just six weeks, you can get your bachelor's degree in the exciting and vibrant career of the future—farming!"

"If we fix your stupid chariot will you heal Hazel and turn Nico back into a real boy?" Ara asks.

Trip blinks and pauses. "Fix... my chariot?"

"Fool-proof deal. We help you, so you help our friends and Demeter can't get mad at you."

"You could even give us whatever aid you can to defeat Gaea's forces," Frank suggests quickly.

Triptolemus snorts. "What makes you think I can aid you with that?"

"Hecate told us so," Frank explains. "She sent us here. She—she decided Hazel is one of her favorites."

"Hecate?"

The god's reaction tells them all they need. Ara and Frank share a brief look before the boy continues. "The goddess guided us to your almanac in Bologna. She wanted us to return it to you, because... well, she must've known you had some knowledge that would help us get through the House of Hades in Epirus."

"Yes... I see. I know why Hecate sent you to me," the god eyes them reluctantly. "Very well, go find a way to fix my chariot. If you succeed, I will do all you ask. If not—"

"I know. Our friends die."

"Yes! And you'll make a lovely patch of sorghum!"

As they exit the Black House, Ara turns to Frank. "I have no idea of how to fix his chariot."

"What!" He looks over his shoulder and then talks under his breath. "Why did you say you'd fix it, then?!"

"Because I was spacing out and I wanted him to shut up!" Ara replies defensively. "And he wasn't going to help us out of the kindness of his heart."

"Hazel is running out of time—"

"So you better start brainstorming with me."

"I have a brainstorm in my head already," he slips to the floor, holding his head like it's hurting.

Ara crouches in front of him, placing a hand on his knee to feel his emotions. He's stressed, but most of all, he's furious. "Frank, what's wrong?"

"It's my dad," he locks eyes with her. "He wants me to kill all of you."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

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#twoidiots writing #pjo fanfic #leo valdez fanfic #doo #leo valdez x oc #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians

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