You Show A Cat Something And They're Like Sniff Sniff Sniff Sniff Sniff Sniff Sniff Ooooh I Understand

Too often, it’s said that black cats are wicked. One with the dark magicks. Their croon the last sound heard of someone stuck in the forest in the pitch night, reverberating like the communal howl of devil worshipers.

Too often, these fables forget to mention their less passive, more aggressive counterpart. The black dog, swift shadows, paws scampering, howls and barks that sound like the screams of the sinners... never leaving you, a reminder of where you’ll be soon. When temptation engulfs you too far for you to escape, desperately groping for solace in bible passages and confession as you play pretend that sins aren’t a permanent black stain on the conscious, the howls will be there. Times like this are where black dogs will find you, their sickening penumbra flickering over the light of John 1:9, your most recent turn in desperation…

The howl echoes around you, enough to knock over candles, clawing at your skin, ice against your ears like the centre of Hell itself reached out to scrape your skin and mark you. Now, you are nothing but a target, precious time slipping away akin to sand tap, tap, tapping against the bottom of an hourglass. You can loom over a bible passage all you want (ephesians 1:7, this time) but their snarls will still grow ever closer, shaking you like it’s knocking the last fight out.

It wraps around you and sends you, ironically, to your knees; too close to prayer for your feeble mind to collect that it is your doom. They’re being polite in their own sickening, twisted way, by giving you your final chance to beg for mercy like God will ever listen.

Crows tore against the sky to get away, akin to rips in time on patches of infinite black. Part of you- the lesser sane part, turned mad by fear, but a part none the less- will feel like screaming after them would somehow save you. They are one with death, sin, Satan, they will do nothing but release a caw like laughter- it shoots into the ear like a cross-bolt: sharp, painful, instant.

Nothing like what will happen to you.

Eyes. Eyes everywhere, fighting to meet yours- dark as night but burning with the hellfire they clawed their way out of- trapped behind them as a symbol of home, a symbol of what they fight for, a symbol of where they will return to. They want to see the weakness cowering in your eyes. They want to drag your twitching, bloodied body behind them as their prize.

They’re getting closer.

Further, further inwards.

Feel their iron claws and leather footpads paw you. Slobber and drool soaking your skin, clothes, the tracking device that will never leave you. Smell: ash- burning elder and holly to be specific- hopelessness, Fire.

Fire.

Of course. Feel it lick against your skin- remembering the taste like a starved animal. The warmth of its shockingly gentle caress. For a second, you’ll be convinced it’s like the demons generously welcoming you. In reality, it’s just a precursor for what you’ll soon feel.

Death will be swift… a blessing, ironically. So much different from black cats, dogs just cannot wait for the main event.

Me, Forget Black Cats

Wow, Guillermo del Toro really said You know what my animated kid's musical needs? Catholicism. War. Death. Alcoholism. Fascism. Frankensteinian undertones. A haunting meditation on mortality and grief. Cate Blanchett making monkey noises. And he was so fucking right

laptop: PLEASE place me on a hard surface that does not obstruct my cooling fan I am begging you

me: shut up we are going to snuggle in bed :)

"The Siege of Terra? Ah, that's nothing complicated. It's just one planet, compared to the whole Heresy leading up to it, that's nothing! Just read the books one after another, it's mostly linear. Two factions mashing into each other, no third party interference, on one planet in one system. How bad could that even get?"

Meanwhile the "Siege of Terra" Lexicanum page:

I can't wait to get to this in about 30 volumes or so because holy does this look like an absolute chaotic trainwreck - and that is just the Commanders!

i think it's great when someone tries to pull off a tragic self-sacrifice in a story and there's at least one guy who's just like "no this is fucking stupid actually. you're an idiot." about it. because it kind of is. i love a good tragedy but let's be honest with ourselves if a friend tried to indulge a noble sacrifice fantasy would you not be a little annoyed. like come on man.

It's worth remembering that if ghosts are real, then you already are one.

In 1,000 years you'll be dancing in churchyard rain on some shaggy hillside and you'll think of the body you once had as a strange, short phase.

Like a bad haircut.

ripping grass out of the ground is therapy

انا لم أطلب هذا التاج قط الذهب بارد وثقيل على الرأس ولكن ما دمت الملك فعلى عاتقي واجب إذا كان واجبي أن أضحي بصبي واحد للهب لأنقذ مليونا من الظلام ، سأفعل التضحية ... التضحية ليست سهلة أبدا يا ( دافوس ) ، وإلا فهي ليست تضحية حقيقية https://www.instagram.com/p/BqSD6rDHAPKefFdD_zmozww44EH4vYJGe_zh380/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=wyko1nuk3qag