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just-some-guy-joust · 7 months ago

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Just Some Guy Joust - Contestants List

Note: This is NOT the order of the brackets. Like with the last tournament, the order of the brackets will be a surprise. This list was randomized from the brackets I set up and does not represent who each character will be up against. The only thing you know for sure which side of the bracket they're on. When the polls go up, they'll be posted in order based on the list here, NOT based on where their brackets actually are!

Round 1 of Side A is over! Round 1 of Side B is CURRENTLY UP!

(Full list of characters in text format is under the cut)

Side A

Sasha James (The Magnus Archives)

Reigen Arataka (Mob Psycho 100) - died round 1

Joy (Underworld Office/Charlie in Underworld) - died round 1

Junpei (Zero Escape)

Horse (Centaurworld)

Phone Guy (FNAF) - died round 1

Gordon Freeman (HLVRAI)

Joshua Gillespie (The Magnus Archives) - died round 1

Namari (Dungeon Meshi)

Shez (Fire Emblem: Three Hopes) - died round 1

Henry Stickmin (Henry Stickmin)

Stanley (The Stanley Parable)

Whole (Chonny Jash's Charming Chaos Compendium) - died round 1

Larry (Pokemon)

Luke Carder (Inscryption) - died round 1

Leorio Paladiknight (Hunter x Hunter) - died round 1

Barry the Quokka (The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog)

Tommy (HLVRAI) - died round 1

Ulala Serizawa (Persona 2: Eternal Punishment) - died round 1

April O'Neil (TMNT - All versions)

Tsuzuru Minagi (Act! Addict! Actors!) - died round 1

Matt (Woe.Begone)

Gilear Faeth (Fantasy High - Dimension 20)

Apollo Justice (Ace Attorney)

Emmet Brickowski (The LEGO Movie) - died round 1

Stahl (Fire Emblem: Awakening)

Doug Eiffel (Wolf 359) - died round 1

Jack Townsend (Tales from the Gas Station) - died round 1

Frisk (Undertale) - died round 1

Brian Pasternack (Yuppie Psycho)

Trevor Hills (American Arcadia)

Barry Bluejeans (The Adventure Zone: Balance) - died round 1

Side B

Carol Kohl (Carol and The End of The World)

Jaehee Kang (Mystic Messenger) - died round 1

Paul Matthews (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals)

Emma Perkins (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals) - died round 1

Su Moting (God Troubles Me) - died round 1

Satou Hiroshi (Disastrous Life of Saiki K.)

Chilchuck Tims (Dungeon Meshi) - died round 1

Michelle Nguyen (Welcome to Night Vale)

Tad Strange (Gravity Falls)

Colin Robinson (What We Do in the Shadows) - died round 1

The Bard (Wandersong)

Usopp (One Piece) - died round 1

Nick Carraway (The Great Gatsby)

Link (Ocarina of Time) - died round 1

Kazooie (In a Manor of Speaking) - died round 1

Connecticut Clark (FlorkofCows)

Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings)

Hitomi Shizuki (Madoka Magica)

Junpei Iori (Persona 3)

Han Solo (Star Wars) - died round 1

Tomoya Mashiro (Ensemble Stars!) - died round 1

Peter Sqloint (Just Roll With It: Apotheosis)

Cabbage Merchant (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Marta Cabrera (Knives Out) - died round 1

Greg Universe (Steven Universe)

Yuuki Mishima (Persona 5) - died round 1

Gingerbrave (Cookie Run) - died round 1

Arthur Dent (Hitchhikers Guide to The Galaxy) - died round 1

Elsen (OFF)

Mob (Mob Psycho 100)

Tadano Hitohito (Komi Can't Communicate) - died round 1

Rung (Transformers - IDW Continuity) - died round 1

#tumblr showdown #tumblr tournament #brackets #just some guy #some guy joust #when polls post you'll be able to find them easily using the next tag ->#tournament poll

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 11 months ago

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I like how anon makes it sound like you said pedophilia was okay when what you said was you didn't care what people write about fictional characters. Amazing

so what's being employed there is an extremely common tactic used by people trying to make their opposition sound like they're doing something that no reasonable person would agree with. accusations of pedophilia are extremely popular for this, since it's an issue that most people, understandably, are extremely opposed to and disgusted by, and very few people want to publicly label themselves as "guy who thinks pedophilia is fine." it's a tactic designed to put people on the defensive and (ideally) isolate them from potential support, which fortunately doesn't work on me because I'm not apologizing for something that wasn't wrong and I don't care who on this hellsite likes me.

it's the motivation behind the right's recently rekindled (although never entirely vanished) obsession with portraying trans people and drag performers, other queer people, and queer-friendly educators generally, as groomers who want to give children forbidden knowledge about sex that their parents don't approve of.

in the particular instance you're referencing, re: my anon, people will level accusations of "pedophilia" at fiction depicting anything from an adult sexually assaulting a child to two teenagers consensually having sex to someone in their 20s consensually hooking up with someone in their 40s. only one of those things - the first - is actually a depiction of pedophilia, and all three are things that people are perfectly allowed to write about without having to go before a tribunal to prove that their intentions are pure. it's also just fucking baffling to me that this is only applied to depictions of sex; if you assumed that every fictional depiction of murder or violence is an admission of actual desire to do such thing, writers would be getting rounded up in droves.

this hardly needs to be said, but: yes, I do find ring cameras - surveillance technology owned by a deeply evil megacorporation that abuses the rights of its employees and freely turns over camera footage to police - more objectionable than Octavia Butler's Parable of the Sower or Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita or Alissa Nutting's Tampa or any other fictional depictions of sex, because a book doesn't harm anyone and surveillance state police collusion does.

as someone lucky enough to teach youth sex education, with sessions focused especially on media literacy, teaching the self-advocacy skills to recognize potentially unsafe situations and the right to tell adults no, and emphasizing bodily autonomy, the entire thing is exhausting. which is the point, they very much want you to get so tired that you just stop saying anything, but once again I am an insane bitch who thrives on negativity so I shan't be stopping any time soon.

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revelisms · 23 days ago

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I keep nosing through my half-written Arcane things and feeling the itch to write it again, so I finally dusted off this little ficlet. Short and sweet domestic oneshot about Jinx, Silco's oddball crime family, and card games 🃏

stratagems

WC: 1.6k | Rating: G | Jinx-centric | Domestic fluff, found family, gambling, character study Also on AO3

Tuesdays are slow nights at the Last Drop—the kind that smoulder on for hours, the neon dimmed to only a fractal prism across velvet booths and varnish-glossed tables: nights for myths and recollections spun to liquor-sweet grandeur, and books read aloud in grinning theatrics, and cards shlack-clack-clacked together between Sevika's weathered fingers, slicked across the table like darts to waiting hands.

When she was meek and younger and still reeling from it all, these nights felt magical. In some ways, they held a candle to those small, rare moments, carefully treasured, of when things in that dingy little storeroom, cramped between three others and Vander's bellowing laugher, felt okay.

It's different, now.

The storeroom's locked up; her brothers and sister-mother-Vi are all gone, gone, gone; Vander's dead, betrayed, rotting, deserved; she's older and restless and lonely and bored.

But there are three others, still.

Sat at a table across from Sevika's rippling hands—glinting augmentation and golden rings, shuffling cards with a magician's ease—is a mountain of a man, his sickly-pale skin littered with a patchwork of black tattoos.

Lock. Hemlock, when she'd told him Lock was a weird name—and then he'd glared down at her with his beady eyes, incense smoke-blue: gruffed, Don't you call me it.

He had a puggishness about him, not a hair on his body save the coarse clumps that lined his burly arms and flared out from the low cut of his tattered tank like a spit of soot. His voice was cavernous and dry: not like Silco's: like he'd swallowed rocks and kept the dust, rumbling and rough with a gravel that flowed like music on a foggy day; Lock's was deep and scratchy and altogether unpleasant, but warm. He wheezed more than laughed. His smile split his face to a crescent of yellowing pikes. He called her Little Devil.

He swipes up six cards between his bulky fingers, tongues his cheek, and skips two over to Ran—who Silco said once went by Rania; who kept their hair sharp as black fins. Jinx could count on one hand the number of times they'd said more than five words in passing to her. Their eyes were like dim violets, and they soothed her, in the strangest way: found the ache in her heart like a quiet beacon, and held it. They liked to tousle their metal fingers through her hair, muss her fringe to a squealing mess. They called her Blue.

At the bar, bent over a dissembled revolver carved with gold, sat dusty little Dustin, head in the clouds, painted nails flecked with gun oil and a rag in his ink-blitzed hands. Talking to him was like dissecting a parable. He spoke in tongues, seemingly flipping through his days on a catalogue of obscure references: a code one had to crack over a lifetime to understand. Jinx, though, had taken the feat to heart. She'd spent hours peering through his craftings and margin-scrawled notes, like one may study an abstract to glean its meaning. She would squirm next to him when the nights grew too quiet, painting in the chips of varnish on his nails and humming his strange tunes. He had eyes like black buttons, and freckles on his nose. His smile was the kindest. He called her Jay.

She didn't know which name she liked best—which one of them she liked best. But she liked the lot of them all more than Sevika.

At least they didn't glare at her, or call her brat or runt, or wait for her to screw things up, like always.

Then again. She was, first and foremost to them, some kid in their boss's care—she'd heard Lock grumble that more than once, like a warning—their boss, who had been nose-deep in a monstrosity of trade edicts and contracts and whatever else; who hadn't given her a glance when she peeked her head around the door to his office, huffing, Not now, Jinx.

That had been hours ago. He still hadn't come down.

She kicks the toe of her boot against her chair, sat in a knot with its back to her chest, and sighs.

The cards dance between Sevika's hands like a flurry of white-capped wings. Jinx watches from three tables away as she flicks out another round, a cigarillo embering between her teeth.

"Two for two."

"'Course you gives us that," Lock snarls. "Deck's loaded."

"All skills of the trade." A puff of smoke, the roll twisting between ambered fingers. "Dish 'em out, you brute."

The cards glimmer spell-like across the table. Jinx presses her chin into her arm, trying and failing and trying again to follow the strategy of the game. They moved in turns of three: trading in singles, drawing pairs, discarding all at once. It was too quick for her to follow.

Footsteps creak down the stairs. She whips over her shoulder, staring through her fringe. Thieram—Chuck, as she'd insisted on calling him, just to make his ears color—meets her eyes with a skittish blink, and beelines for the bar. She scowls, hunching back in her seat.

Ran wins the round, with a coy grin and a smack of their cards on the table. Lock pounds the varnish hard enough to knock the deck over.

Jinx aches to put on a gramophone record, to get up and dance, bang on that dusty old piano by the back tables, anything. More creaking down the stairs, glass rattling, Dustin humming his old songs, boots th-thump th-thumping slow over the panelling.

She smells the spice-sweet of his cigars before she feels him find his way beside her.

His presence is less a quiet comfort as it is a blistered, bleeding reconnection: the wash of his cold energy startling, and sharp, and soothing, all at once.

"At it again, are they?" Silco drawls.

Jinx pitters her fingers over her elbow. "Yeah."

He hums. He's wearing green today: a dark, blueish sort. "Give them an ounce of time to themselves, and they gamble it away," he grouses. His fingers tick. He sighs. "I've kept you." The words carry the start of an apology. "This week's dealings were—"

"Unexpected?" Jinx quips.

"One could say."

"Annoying?"

"Dreadfully."

"Mister Finn being a big stupid-head, again?"

"A horrendous one." A small smirk slides over his mouth, crooked at one corner: the one he reserves only for her. "But no matter."

It's a roundabout dismissal. It means, I'm sorry; means, My time is yours, now; means he will wait until she proffers an explanation for her gawping through the smoke-hazed green of his office, anything beyond I just wanted to sit with you, but anything beyond that would be a lie.

She presses her thumb into the chair's spine. After a moment, his eyes flit down to her. "They've not showed you how to play?" he mutters.

She shakes her head.

"It's simple enough." He folds his hands behind his back, tilting his head, and watches the whirlwind of motion that continues on before them. "You know the suits, don't you?" A shrug of her shoulders. "Well, then. Four kings; four aces. Hold either set of those, and you win. Anything in the middle is fair game to keep, or toss, or trade."

She frowns. "That's it?" It had seemed far more complicated than that, from all she'd gleaned.

"That's it." His eyes fall on her, mismatched. His fingers turn at his back. "Come," he murmurs, "I'll show you. One can hardly learn, without practice."

As seemed to be his philosophy for everything, for better or worse. Trial by fire, mastery through mistake, and all that.

(Who's to say whether one can sink or swim, without first giving themselves to the deep?)

He'd carried that philosophy like a mantle when he had sent her on her first missions, shadowing her movements with watchful eyes; or when he had tasked her with duties under Sevika's wing, or Lock's, or Ran's, or Dustin's. In things as small and simple as organizing his paperwork for him (client contracts on the bottom, client files above that, then industry reports, and industry-related headlines, and financial records); in things as precise as his daily injections of shimmer to his rotted eye, that she had learned and denied was killing him by inches, her finger shaking on the trigger that first and only time (nothing different from a bullet, child) and nimble as a fine-tuned machine, ever since.

He steps away from the shadows, into the gold, an unspoken invitation—and she watches, quietly intrigued, at the actions that follow: chairs squeaked, smokes raised, Sir's and Hey, Boss's bounced around the table. Sevika drags up an extra seat. He gives a nod to her reshuffled cards and Thieram's expectant glance, in turns.

A tray of carved glasses and a fifth of whisky is carried over, each gift deposited to the table in heavy thunks. Silco takes the first pour. The ambered sheen of the liquor fractures over the table like shattered glass. "Have a seat, child."

She's on her feet, sheepishly, in an instant: clumsy steps skittering over the floor: a birdish thing at a table of wolves, trying fruitlessly to don their fangs.

A chair is cleared for her between Lock's black-mapped shoulder and Ran's tick-ticking fingers. She slumps into it, quickly. Sevika's eyes burn into her.

Silco deals out thirty cards—six for each of them—with a lazying flourish of his fingers, and ends the litter on Jinx.

"A game of luck," he tells her, without care for the looming prowl of their company. The gravel of his voice has the strangest way of twisting the world on its head, as though it is only the two of them. It always does. "Welcome to Crowns."

He gives a touch of a smile, there and gone in an instant. She smiles sheepishly back.

Then, the five of them descend upon their drawings—and, quick as lightning, they play.

#arcane #arcane fanfic #ficlet #jinx #jinx arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #silco #silco arcane #lock arcane #ran arcane #dustin arcane #fluff #the messy dysfunctional crime found family is coming back for me #hhhhgh #writing

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frodo-with-glasses · 1 year ago

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So uh. I might’ve found a pattern here.

From The Fellowship of the Ring, “Three Is Company”:

From The Two Towers, “The Uruk-Hai”:

From The Return of the King, “The Houses of Healing”:

Now I know Tolkien hated allegory. And I know LotR is not a copy-and-paste parable about WWII (which he didn’t fight in) or even WWI (which he did). But the man did see war, and so did people he loved, and he had a non-zero amount of trauma, and some of that is gonna make its way into his writing somehow.

And I think his soul might’ve had something to say about soldiers being forced to walk until they dropped from exhaustion.

#lord of the rings #lotr #honestly i think the first quote is the most chilling in this context??#like the second one pretty clearly portrays the horror of those marches #and the third seems like a realistic best-case scenario: you walk until you drop and then a familiar and beloved voice wakes you up #but the first is?? almost desperately happy?? like he’s reaching so far to say ‘no i swear this traumatic thing could be beautiful and good’#‘it could be good!’#‘IT COULD BE GOOD!! I SWEAR’#‘PLEASE JUST LET ME HAVE THIS’#and you get this sense of desperation #like he wishes a tall and beautiful Elf was there to help him and the other exhausted young men up when they stumbled and fell #i dunno if i’m making any sense but it kinda makes my heart hurt #i feel like i’m peeking into an open wound in this man’s soul

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unorchido · 7 months ago

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Funfacts

Have fun

Neither Narrator nor Stanley can cook, Timekeeper does the cooking.

Narrator calls Timekeeper 'Time boi' while Stanley calls them 'Dickweed'.

Timekeeper loves millipedes. Also they used to owe a corn snake.

Kevan's (Swap!Narrator's) cat, Rambo, is Line™.

Kevan doesn't like sweet, meanwhile Director (swap!Stanley) has sweet tooth.

Narrator has little to no control over his hair. They're like snakes. Just lines™.

Amadeo makes cocktails down at the Lovebug's (a place in hell, lust ring), while working at a coffeshop on Earth.

Amadeo can sew and make plushies and pins.

Timekeeper owes 5 different animal skulls and two human skulls.

Kevan is obsessed with 19th century medicine.

Stanley isn't mute, he just doesn't like to speak in public and to those he doesn't like.

Curator and Narrator are related by blood, making them siblings, but sometimes they treat each others like strangers.

Timekeeper isn't allowed to bring Kevan to board meetings.

The bucket used to be a friend of Narrator.

Gambhorra'ta and Essence are the parental figures to the Proctors.

Proctors had to die to earn their proctorhood.

Mariella is obsessed with shiny things.

Timekeeper and Narrator are the middle children.

Narrator can play on a guitar, Stanley plays on saxophone, Curator plays on a violin and Timekeeper plays on the piano.

Amadeo, Stan (LB!/not Stanley) and Valentine (THE Lovebug, looks like Narrator) are in a relationship. Yes, the three of them.

Amadeo once accidently called Narrator dad.

Timekeeper doesn't have a binder, and they can't afford a top surgery so they wear oversized hoodies.

Curator is responsible for the crew because she was responsible for Narrator when they were younger.

Kevan has phobia of fire, loud noises and explosions.

Narrator is a pyromaniac.

Director and Kevan aren't in a relationship. Director takes the rule 'Not To Fall For Your Creation' way too seriously.

Timekeeper hates the smell of smoke.

Amadeo hates bright lights, they prefer dim or no lights at all.

Director is colorblind to red. His glasses are colorblind glasses.

Each proctor has their own type of bird wings; Narrator is a hooded crow, Timekeeper is a snowy owl, Curator is a peacock and Director is a bald eagle.

Proctors can purr.

Narrator is the only one who has fingers and claws on his wings.

Kevan and Stan are PARABLES. Stanley is a KEEPER and Amadeo is an EXEMPLUM.

That's all so far 👍

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sivavakkiyar · 7 months ago

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now I’m going to do something that all intelligent people do and pointlessly without foundation project on the past for a joke, but I wonder how much the motivation for going through all that trouble was for like representation (for like understanding) purposes (yes, yes, antisemitism in the 14th century, truly extremely comic). 1) it’s still a great entertaining book 2) a lot of the stories are about relationships between Jews, Christians and Muslims: some of the ones that I remember off the top of my head near the beginning are The Jew Who Converted To Christianity By Going To Rome, which is still tbh kinda of funny, and the parable of Saladin and The Three Rings, which has an interesting history

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furrywithfourlegs · 6 months ago

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tfw shower thoughts happen during services

I accidentally wrote an entire dvar Torah during shul yesterday and the only appropriate place I could think of to share was here, on Tumblr, so here I've come to share it.

There is no one type of Jew. In fact if anyone tells you there is you can immediately discount whatever they're saying, because they've already proven their ignorance. We can't even agree on how to categorize and group ourselves; the only common denominator among Jews is we worship the One G-d, Unique in His Oneness. Everything else depends on circumstances.

There's a common Jewish joke to this effect: "Two Jews, three opinions." I rather think our history of debate is one of our great strengths - it forms the basis of our quintessential and almost instantly recognizable learning style. We sit in pairs or groups with a holy book on the table between us and read it aloud... And we argue over what exactly, precisely, the author meant. What did he mean by this word, this phrase, this parallel structure, this reference? What can we learn from the text to apply to our daily lives?

Jewish study halls are loud.

And believe me, they're not necessarily polite, either. Some full-time scholars treat arguing like a beloved hobby. The magnum opus of the Jewish academic world, the Talmud, contains the collected opinions of the greatest ancient sages, written down when the chain of oral transmission was threatened. To our great fortune, they also preserved the lively discussion (source) and passionate name-calling that came with it: "empty-headed", "scatterbrained", even "a first-born son of Satan" come up more than once. (Source) They insulted each other, each other's wives, each other's entire generations to prove a point.

So how do we resolve these conflicts? How does the study hall ring in harmony, rather than strife?

The answer lies in another Jewish maxim (we love our proverbs):

שבעים פנים לתורה / Shiv'im panim la-Torah. / There are seventy faces to the Torah.

Biblical context: The Torah refers to 70 languages, 70 nations, and means "all the people in the world." So when we say there are 70 faces to the Torah, we leapfrog off that concept and say "The Torah encompasses all possible permutations and interpretations in the world." (Recall the scene in Fiddler on the Roof where someone says, "They can't both be right!" and Tevye responds, "You know, you're also right..." Source.)

The Talmud is a unified text because the sages recorded in it were debating toward a common goal. Their opinions may have been equally valid (peep the story of Rav Eliezer vs the majority, source), but at the end of the day they agreed on a deciding factor and made a final decision. The study hall rings in harmony because we argue and debate not toward a common goal but for a common purpose: to increase our knowledge and understanding, and to deepen our love and relationship with G-d. With this as our guiding principle, differences of individual interpretation melt under the overriding truth that all are facets of G-d's World.

How does this apply to us? Let me make this very, very Jewish and end with a parable.

So, nu, you're sitting in the study hall and your partner has just spent the last twenty minutes trying to explain a fakakta idea and you KNOW he's meshugana but you don't have time to reason with him because the rabbi just hammered on his desk to call for the afternoon prayer service. You take a deep breath and remember - shivim panim laTorah. He can keep his ideas, and maybe next time it'll be your turn to rant, because the Word of G-d is infinite and encompasses all interpretations.

And another:

You stand with the prayerbook in your hands and stare at the paragraphs written by sages hundreds and thousands of years ago and you struggle to relate to the words, even though your teachers and rabbis have lectured about how meaningful they are over and over again. You take a deep breath and remember - shivim panim laTorah. These words were codified with a particular set of meanings in mind, but you have a unique relationship with G-d. You can use these words OR their original intention to inspire your own, private prayer, and it is equally valid. Because the Word of G-d is infinite, and encompasses all possible permutations of prayer.

70 whole and unique faces to the Word of G-d.

Whether you're in the midst of an emotional crisis, a spiritual crisis, an existential crisis, or a motivational crisis, may each of us merit to see the conflict we are feeling, and find a new face to study instead.

#Tl;dr: Don't let conflict get you down... G-d encompasses all possible interpretations #This was supposed to be short and pithy #inspiration #love thy neighbor #love thyself #Judaism #philosophy #wellll it depends #first post #If a Jew is stranded on a desert island for ten years he builds two temples: the one he attends and the one he wouldn't step foot in #jumblr

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cryptophasiac · 8 months ago

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🍦 🦴

thank you heina <333

🍦 three things i like about a character i hate:

he’s a character to me and i love him and hate him so much, so… pete is a lot smarter than people give him credit for. he loves really deeply and i find it both sweet and relatable (personality wise i kinda have a lot in common w him). and he seems like he’s a really good parent

🦴 media that inspires my writing: i mean my fics are mostly inspired by my id haha but im writing a hunger games au for bandom big bang rn and that’s obviously inspired by the hunger games. my favorite book ever is the parable of the sower by octavia e butler and im generally p into other feminist sci fi as well (the girl with all the gifts, anything by ursula k le guin). one thing i always aim to do in fiction (original or fan) is to develop a large cast who all have complex relationships with one another and i think that’s really well done in the lord of the rings books which were actually the first thing i wrote fic about (shoutout to 9yo me for liking aragorn That much). it’s also done excellently in the les mis book (im a weird les mis fan bc i don’t like the musical but the BOOK IS SO GOOD)

#ask creek

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neonsentient · 1 year ago

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Twisted Wonderland: Dark Parable

In the wake of a mysterious tragedy, students from magical academies band together to unveil a conspiracy that could threaten the very existence of their universe.

Introducing

Grimrose Academy for Young Ladies

An all girls arcane academy located on the west side of the Isle of Sages.

Grimrose was originally the home of the Isle’s ruling family. The academy is a castle surrounded by three rings of white stone whose crenelated curtain walls increase in height. Between the outer and middle walls is a famous briar labyrinth which serves to entertain guests (and according to the legend, to slow down invaders). Within Grimrose's walls are groves, pavilions, fountains, and courtyards and there are several on-campus cafes, restaurants and stores, as well as lounges and even a movie theater. The castle's structures are covered in ivy, berries, and climbing roses.

Similar to NRC, Grimrose is also a four year academy.

According to Dire Crowley, Grimrose is the largest academy in the island and has the biggest library as well.

Trivia

A common joke is that sudents often refer to the school as GAY (due to its initials). Students jokingly call themselves GAY Girls.

Grimrose's dorms are organized by year.

Students are identified by the roses on their uniform; red roses for first years, white for second, black for third and golden for fourth while teachers wear blue roses.

The Briar Labyrinth is known to change its structure on the daily, making it very hard to navigate without the use of an enchanted compass which is given to every student upon entering.

Students often throw parties within the labyrinth and is also a popular hook-up spot.

Despite the grim (no pun intended) layout, the school is often swarmed with butterflies, birds and woodland creatures such as squirels, deers and bunnies. This might be due to the abundance of flowers and berry plants.

#twisted wonderland #tw #twisted wonderland original character #idia shroud #vil schoenheit #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #malleus draconia #kalim al asim #riddle rosehearts #tw oc #twisted wonderland oc

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 1 year ago

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1st December >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Friday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green: A (1))

First Reading Daniel 7:2-14 'I saw, coming on the clouds of heaven, one like a son of man'.

I, Daniel, have been seeing visions in the night. I saw that the four winds of heaven were stirring up the great sea; four great beasts emerged from the sea, each different from the other. The first was like a lion with eagle’s wings; and as I looked its wings were torn off, and it was lifted from the ground and set standing on its feet like a man; and it was given a human heart. The second beast I saw was different, like a bear, raised up on one of its sides, with three ribs in its mouth, between its teeth. “Up!” came the command “Eat quantities of flesh!” After this I looked, and saw another beast, like a leopard, and with four bird’s wings on its flanks; it had four heads, and power was given to it. Next I saw another vision in the visions of the night: I saw a fourth beast, fearful, terrifying, very strong; it had great iron teeth, and it ate, crushed and trampled underfoot what remained. It was different from the previous beasts and had ten horns.

While I was looking at these horns, I saw another horn sprouting among them, a little one; three of the original horns were pulled out by the roots to make way for it; and in this horn I saw eyes like human eyes, and a mouth that was full of boasts. As I watched:

Thrones were set in place and one of great age took his seat. His robe was white as snow, the hair of his head as pure as wool. His throne was a blaze of flames, its wheels were a burning fire. A stream of fire poured out, issuing from his presence. A thousand thousand waited on him, ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him. A court was held and the books were opened.

The great things the horn was saying were still ringing in my ears, and as I watched, the beast was killed, and its body destroyed and committed to the flames. The other beasts were deprived of their power, but received a lease of life for a season and a time.

I gazed into the visions of the night. And I saw, coming on the clouds of heaven, one like a son of man. He came to the one of great age and was led into his presence. On him was conferred sovereignty, glory and kingship, and men of all peoples, nations and languages became his servants. His sovereignty is an eternal sovereignty which shall never pass away, nor will his empire ever be destroyed.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Daniel 3:75-81