#muscle is perpect | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsleroyposts · 2 months

Text

today I woke up with the clear goal to make a rating of Olympus snorers (it will include the 7 male olympians and Hades cause I don’t have much thought about others yet)

so from top to bottom

#1 Poseidon

as I already mentioned he is the loudest snorer over here

in my imagination big men always snore and Poseidon is quite tall and muscular so he is like a bear

the loudest snores come out when he passes out because of tiredness ,,,

like when he sleeps soundly his body relaxes and he doesn’t control any muscles or processes

a few times he snored at the top of his voice and caused several earthquakes :///

Amphitrite was laughing hysterically and teased him when other olympians had been constantly asking what was wrong and why he was so mad???

Poseidon made a pact with Amphitrite to never reveal the real reason

#2 Zeus

the only top he got the second place and not angry about

the main reason Zeus snores is because he is big

like Poseidon his snores are loud and kinda massive

I also like to think that during the Titanomachy he broke his nose and from that time he had some nose issues which he never solved because Hera never complained

Nevertheless Hera still loves to tease him because of loud snoring

She always says that just like kouretes made loud noises to hide baby Zeus the grown man is just hiding something from his wife

Zeus isn’t concerned about his loud snoring so surprisingly he usually laughs when other gods mention that

#3 Hephaestus and Ares

it seems to me that both Ares and Hephaestus snore from time to time

like their snores a medium volume and happen when their are really unconscious

Ares hates himself snoring mostly because Aphrodite can’t sleep in such noise right above her head (she is overreacting saying that Ares’ snores a FUCKING LOUD and poor man believes her)

Hephaestus only snores when he is lying on the back which happens not really often

but he is really ashamed of it because he count that as another “flaw” (Aphrodite was a reason of a such perpective) and still didn’t sorted this issue (both mentally and physically)

#4 Dionysus

it’s pretty obvious but when Dionysus is fucking drunk he snores

but in comparison with Zeus and Poseidon he has these kinda cute little snores and he even drooles

Ariadne sometimes founds it lovely but other time when Dionysus oversteps with vine it looks disgusting (other olympians think so)

Dionysus honestly can’t care less about snoring so he don’t even try to solve this

once he passed out completely wasted but somehow he didn’t snored and his Bacchantes and satyres were terrified

for a moment poor folks thought that he finally reached the edge

#5 Hermes

Hermes practically never snores at least other olympians do think so

but George and Martha (or just his snakes if you are not into pjo) caught him snoring a few times after extremely crazy party

yes he also snores when he is drunk

but he kinda snortes-snores if it make sense to you

so he accidentally snortes-snores once in 10-15 minutes and that makes sleepy Hermes fucking hilarious to others

#6 Apollo

poor boy is totally sure that he never snores

but the muses regularly catch him snoring like a little baby when he passes out after a long musical or poetry session

needless to say as soon as he finds out he is terrified

he desperately tries to solve this problem because he is the god of medicine and perfection (as he insists)

after his total loss and all 5 stages of grief he asks Asclepius for help

100% overdramatic about this

#7 Hades

lucky man who never got this problem

actually never cared about snoring unless Persephone said somethering like “thanks to the fates you are a quiet sleeper”

from now on he is a proud man

always chuckles when both Poseidon and Zeus mention their little issue and claims that he has the most perfect nose out of the family

his younger brothers not really jealous of it but they still like fake complaining

mostly they do that when Hades starts to annoy them like all elder siblings do

#greek gods #greek mythology #pjo #pjoverse #riordanverse #dionysus #apollo #hermes #zeus #poseidon #hades #ares #hephaestus #ancient greek #Greek mythology headcanons #greek gods headcanons

21 notes · View notes

itswhumpday · 4 years

Text

Blood Bags | Chapter 8

[Prologue] | [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7] Whumpee still stands in the same place for a while, not knowing what to do now.

The Whumper must’ve known that the gates were too far away for them to reach - and even if they did get there and managed to jump it, they wouldn’t be able to find civilization before freezing. They should probably find their way back to the mansion. Even if the Whumper locked the front doors, there would be a least seven hundred windows they could try to sneak back into. They could find their way back to their cell in the Pantry, try to get warm and wait for Caretaker.

Or maybe it was just a trick. A way to make them believe they were grateful for this life of misery and torture. Wouldn’t dying trying to be free be better than giving up to despair? Caretaker would say no. Despite their reserves, this much Whumpee knew. Caretaker was always trying to preserve their life. And each passing day, Whumpee wasn’t sure it was just for Whumper’s interest anymore.

A gust of wind brought another wave of shivers through Whumper’s body. They leaned over, coughing. Their face was burning against the cold grass. Whatever is was they were going to do, they had to do it now. Otherwise, they’d die right there.

Whumpee grabbed the nearest tree, pulling themselves upright. In cold days like this, their wrist still hurts, so they let out a small whimper. They’ve decided. Onward and forward. Towards the gates. Caretaker was out there. Maybe if they could find a safe place to wait for them to return… Maybe they could convince Caretaker to take them away…

Dreaming won’t do anything until they’ve started walking. Their knees are wobbly, trembling from the cold. They’ve lost a lot of muscle recently. They manage to push forward, blindly. One tree at a time. Two steps, a lean. Coughing, wheezing. They follow to the side of the road, because it’s the only clue they have of where the gates are.

The night gets darker. The wind grows colder. The tips of their toes are blue - they can see that even in the dark, contrasting with the rest of their skin. Their movements are more uneasy now, slower. Their chest has constricted like a dried nut. Every movement sends a wave of pain. Leaning against a tree to cough keeps them in place for ten, fifteen minutes. Seeing death dance in the edges of their vision, fighting to keep upright.

But the decision had been made. Going back now wouldn’t kill them any less. They keep walking, as slow as it is. They can’t find a rhythm anymore. Their eyes grow heavier and heavier. They feel themselves doze off sometimes steps at a time. For long seconds, they forget where they are, where they’re going. Whumpee must’ve cried, because they feel the burning sensation of cold water against their face. But they’re not anymore. Now there’s only nothing. Somehow that’s even worse.

Moments are jumbled. Caretaker’s cold hands against their feverish face, their parent’s embrace, their best friend’s departure when they were sold, Whumper’s face over the water. Caretaker keeps popping up. Their face when Whumpee screamed at them. Them crying when they thought Whumpee was unconscious. Their soft voice when they whispered “you’re burning up.” Even now, Whumpee can’t help but wonder how weird are the solaces people find in terrible places.

When they open their eyes again, they’ve tripped. They don’t know when. Their face is against the gravel ground of the road that leads to the exit they never got to see. They didn’t even feel the pain. Even the pain in their chest is distant. Laying on their belly like this it’s hard to breathe, though. They watch the dark forest, they don’t know for how long.

A bright light comes in their direction. They can only hope it’s the end.

***

Caretaker is driving so fast up the road that leads back to the house that the gravel of the small road pops on the metal like popcorn. They find the garage soon enough, almost jumping off of the car while waiting for the door to open. They grab their things, hurry to the Pantry. The door is already open.

Whumper is sitting inside. Whumpee is nowhere to be seen.

Caretaker leaves the things on top of the freezer, their stomach constricting.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d be back. I need another blood bag.”

No.

“My lord?”

“This one simply wasn’t working. Terrible training. Get me another bred one, I liked the kind. But find me a stronger one.”

“Did you…?”

“Of course not. I’m not a savage like my siblings. No. I took them outside, told them to run. Standard procedure. They didn’t even get halfway. And so slow too…” Whumper touched their own neck, even though there was no beating there since before this country was even called that. “I told them to keep going. If they’re free, then they’re free. If they’re not, some animal will have a good time, don’t you think?”

Caretaker bites the inside of their mouth.

“Is that… All… My lord?”

“It is.” Whumper stood up but stopped next to Caretaker. “Actually, no… This time… Try not to get too close to this one.”

***

Caretaker runs outside, not knowing where to begin. They’ve been everywhere in this property. They know how huge it is. How can they hope to find Whumpee?

They shouldn’t even be out of bed, not in their state. How long had it been since Whumper had done that? Caretaker had been gone almost six hours. They could have appeared minutes after they left. They decide to follow the trail to the gates. Whumpee is smart, they would have known to follow it… Right?

It’s dark and there’s so much ground to cover. They run to the gates, but they didn’t find anything. They realize they probably went too fast to see anything and run back, but slower this time. The only track they find is the track of their tires from earlier. They stop halfway, knowing there is only one way. They have to resort to their vampire powers.

Servants like himself never have to do it. Everything is provided by their lord. But every vampire knows how to do it. It’s ingrained in their brain, like an instinct. They close their eyes, concentrate and sniff the air. Scents find him: thousands of small, thundering little hearts. Couped up in the trees, in the bushes, flying above. None of them were Whumpee. But there is one faint smell - human blood.

They rush after it, not taking long to find them.

Their heart breaks instantly.

Whumpee is on the floor, face down against the gravel. It has broken the skin on some places and that’s what they were able to smell.

Caretaker turns Whumpee around, bringing them up to their arms. They feel rigid and wrong. The tip of their fingers is blue, just like their lips, just like their eyelids. A small wheezing noise coming from their throat is the only sign that they’re still breathing. Whumpee opens their eyes a slit, showing wide pupils. And impossible smile forms in their chapped lips.

As Caretaker watches, aghast, Whumpee raises their half-frozen hand and touches their face, a touch as soft as death. They try to say something, but their chest only trembles. Their hand fall. Their eyes roll back and their head goes limp against caretaker’s shoulder.

They don’t shiver, they don’t move.

They don’t breathe.

***

Caretaker doesn’t remember running so fast in their lives.

They must have taken less than a minute to get to the Pantry. They carefully lay Whumpee in their bed. They look too small for it now, like changing the scenery changed Caretaker’s perpective. They lock the door - smashing it in a knot so hard no one would be able to open it.

They turn around, turning on the electric blanket they had bought, turning it to low heat. They couldn’t risk doing it too fast. They attach the heart monitor to the human’s finger. It beeps loudly, uninterruptedly, but Caretaker already knew that much.

They raise Whumpee’s face, not failing to notice how they meet no resistance. They join their hands together, and not much different than the week before, they start pounding Whumpee’s heart to life.

How long they could do this for? What kind of life was this? Could Whumpee’s gesture simply mean a good-bye? If they could have talked at that moment, would they have said “let me die?” When they asked Caretaker to stay even if they were sick, should they have stayed?

They’d had so many friends like them and they had to watch all of them die. But Whumpee didn’t feel like just a friend… They felt important. They felt… Like they were alive again. Capable of changing, of adapting… Of protecting instead of destructing.

The monitor starts picking up on the rhythm of the compressions. Every thirty, Caretaker stops and breathes into Whumpee’s mouth, raising their chest with every breath. It remains half open like they leave it. The blanket starts warming up, but Caretaker barely feels it. They leave it in the same temperature during a couple of cycles of compressions before getting it up again.

They stop asking questions. They stop worrying. As long as they can keep doing this, Whumpee can live. They’re stronger than humans. They won’t get tired from this. They can do this until they’re safe, until they’re back.

It takes eleven minutes. Eleven minutes until the heart monitor lets them know Whumpee has a shocking rhythm going. They grab the defibrillator, making it ready. It hums as it charges. Carefully, Caretaker rips Whumpee’s t-shirt to expose their chest. They place the machine against it and press the buttons.

The discharge makes Whumpee’s body arch slightly and fall back down. Caretaker worries their weak heart can’t take many of these. Luckily, one was enough.

Whumpee’s eyes are suddenly open. They’re gasping, grabbing their chest. They cough violently, rolling to the side. Wheezing comes out of their throat. Caretaker struggles around the room until they find an oxygen cylinder and connect it to a mask. They bring it to Whumpee, putting it against their face. They grab the mask and Caretaker’s hand with both hands, keeping it close to their face, their eyes closing again.

Caretaker watches in awe as their chest fills and empties. They want to pull away to get them covers, to up the temperature. But Whumpee holds them so tight they’re afraid of doing so.

So instead they just lean over and kiss their forehead.

“I’m back. I’m back and I’m here to stay. No one is going to hurt you ever again. I won’t let it. I won’t let anything hurt you again.”

Whumpee’s eyes open again, terrifyingly conscient after everything they had been through. They try to speak again and it comes out a whisper. They let go of Caretaker’s hand and, once again, touches their face with their cold fingers. It’s soft, like a caress. They pull Caretaker closer until they can hear what they say.

“I knew you’d come.”

#I told ya this one was gonna be good didn't I?#hypothermia #whump #vampire whump #vampire caretaker #vampire whumper #resus #cpr whump

63 notes · View notes

almaclara · 5 years

Photo

I am so excited to be chin-deep into my Goddess Healing Card deck design.... several decks will be launching this year. with poetry, affirmations, journeal prompts and thoughts to meditate on on the back, you may just want to pick a card and let the FRONT speak to you. Today’s illustration for me represents the “positions” life puts us into. we can feel upside-down, backwards, awkward, unfamiliar, but in these fresh spaces we find subtle strength in new muscles we didn’t know we had, and see all the world from a new perpective. We get to notice how we feel and decide, based on that, what’s for us and what we do and don’t want, as well as open our mind to accept and experience a broader perspective and touch more of life. Our strength lies so often in our flexibility and ability to bend and stretch, rather than resistance or rigidity. Choose to trust in life today and that upside-down isn’t always “wrong”. YOu are touching all of the edges of your life, this is what you wanted. Can I get an A-Woman???? #oraclecards #tarotcards #yoga #meditation #selfcare #selflove #spiritualjourney #flexibility #moon #stars #goddesses #goddess #melaningoddess #asanas #celesitalgoddess #divinefeminine #selflove #journalling #artprints #illustrator #illustratorsoninstagram #artistsoninstagram #tayasuisketches #pose #figuredrawing #modeldrawing (at Park Slope) https://www.instagram.com/p/ByVOaP9gHRx/?igshid=5y6gux2p1p5a

1 note · View note

grcndel · 6 years

Note

PLEASE give us the text that proves gren is gay. like i 100% believe you but oh my god i need to see it

oh dude yeah. absolutely.

the first and most important thing to discuss in regards to this is the debunking of the ‘queen wealthow’ character in the novel as grendel’s romantic love interest, because that’s a really stupidly common misconception people seem to have. he praised and felt protective over the queen, and even loved her, sure, but not in a way that denotes he was attracted to her – he loved her because, for awhile, she was the one thing no man had ever touched, the one thing in the whole land that was unruined … and grendel was not in love with her so much as he was in love with the IDEA of a queen, of “wealthow,” being defined as “holy servant of common good.” when he’s actually faced with the thing most men would jump at – i.e. her naked body – he’s so disgusted by it he genuinely believes he would enjoy killing her so long as he never had to look at it again. he realizes that what he thought was adoration was nothing more than him envying her innocence, even going so far as to refer to her many times as “a child,” and that once he was forced to see the truth of it, any ( PATERNAL!! ) love he felt was dashed by a sense of general repulsion. but here’s the aforementioned disgust from his OWN perpective, because i can talk a whole lotta talk, but what’s really wanted is the text itself !

( desc. – gren’s … really fucked up and unforgivable description of her, including his blunt opinion of her genitalia, aka an “ugly hole.” )

( desc. – grendel acknowledging her beauty and her ugliness in the same sentence, relating her beauty to her innocence, still – which is why he mentions ‘baby grendel,’ because he tends to write in a manner that just … follows a train of thought / stream of consciousness – but relating her ugliness to the traditionally-thought “female features” of her body, proving that he really, really does not find her appealing in any way beyond the mere idea of her [ which can honestly also be reflective of comp het, now that i think about it ]. )

then, of course, there’s the less subtle, less nuanced opposition to grendel’s above struggle – which is, of course, the fact that he didn’t find beowulf’s naked body unappealing AT ALL, going so far as to linger on his most starkly masculine qualities. grendel comments on his muscle definition, the way his lips move when he speaks, the fine build of his body … and never once does he call him ugly, or recoil from him, or desire to kill him because of it. matter of fact, grendel straight up says that beowulf’s naked body and odd manner of speech “excite” him – isn’t that interesting !

( desc. – grendel’s incredibly homoerotic, awed description of beowulf’s bare form. sounds gay to me, jan. )

RELATED SIDE-NOTES

grendel has had lesser loves before beowulf, but his praise of a man called “the shaper” is scattered wildly throughout chapters 1-7, mostly consisting of grendel’s admiration for other, less shallow qualities: the ability to command the attention of a social sphere simply by opening your mouth, the ability to create art that influences the thinking of entire armies of men, etc. … the shaper’s death is the only time grendel ever went to a funeral – not the only time he’s cried for or mourned the loss of a human life, but the only time he stuck around to respect the traditional handling of a human’s death. grendel developed his little crush on the shaper when he was still awfully young, though, so i think his attachment to him was largely psychological. i’m not gonna pull up every little early instance of gren fawning over the guy, but if you want i can always link you to the text so you can scour through it, yourself.

he also has a fun little fascination with a man called unferth. their rivalry is very playful, and gren consistently spares his life, even going so far at the end of chapter 6 ( again – i can link you ) as to tuck him over his shoulder and carry him safely back to the hall, unscathed. their relationship, at times, can be easily interpreted as … strangely, one-sidedly affectionate.

additionally, here is a forum of people bringing up the same points and speculating the same things, in slightly simpler and more contextually sound terms.

#Anonymous #gren.#grendel #twau #there's also the fact that in the twau comics it straight up SAYS that holly - the most important woman in gren's life - is pretty much #a surrogate mother to him. and that there's literally nothing going on there.#so!#hope that helps.#save tag

25 notes · View notes