#for the maggots and corpse stuff

[milimeters-morales]

Pavitr: yknow you’d make a really convincing dead body if you fell asleep in the middle of a battle.

Hobie: thanks. you’d make the perfect maggot squirming around inside my rotting corpse and taking piece after piece of me to sustain yourself.

Gwen and Miles: are you two even friends

[squidult]

at the end of the day i feel like AI in the arts is a tool that COULD be used in a cool and ethical way, but as things are now that SUPER IS NOT HAPPENING and fills me with wrath. we SHOULD NOT be using AI to replace humans, but to work along side them. as things are now theres seldom any algorithms that don't put everyone involved in legal, ethical, and financial hell

[abigailbozarthart]

Part 1 of a comic that I didn't intend to be more than a few pages and yet

[frankarcherhater]

[bogleech]

i keep wanting to draw anthro maggots but they end up looking like beetle larvae instead- any ideas on how one might stylize a maggot person to make it a little more distinctly A Maggot? it's especially hard to me bc maggots are like THE MOST featureless insect larvae.... which i suppose counts as a defining feature in and of itself- but i dunno. im mostly just curious to hear your approach!!!

Yeah beetle grubs, caterpillars and a lot of other insect larvae have armored heads with complete jaws structures as well as six little legs, plus they often have a defined looking "top" and "bottom" with ridged and wrinkles almost like they got soft armored down their back

But maggots are weird! They streamlined EVERYTHING down to where they have no legs at all, not even vestigial ones, and their body segments almost evolved towards something like radial symmetry by being the same all the way around!

Then there's the fact that they sort of lost most of a "head." Not only is there no exoskeletal cranial case (bug skull) to protect it but there are no jaws and never any eyes; there's just a little hole for drinking liquefied food, a pair of tusk-like hooks for gripping surfaces, and a pair of eye-like knobs that are actually chemosensory (noses)

The weird, tiny walrus-face is totally unique! They don't have any chewing mouthparts because they only need to "drink" the particles of rotting matter they live on, and like adult flies, they help this along by secreting digestive enzymes!

Maggots also have these very distinct, furry looking bands at every segment, which help them grip surfaces like a tire tread or the sole of a shoe. If you compare this photo with the one above you'll also notice how the segments can retract in and out like a telescope!

The last special thing about common maggot anatomy is that they are technically semi-aquatic animals, because maggots evolved to be buried head-first completely in their own food as much as possible and rotten corpses are WET. In order to breathe, maggots have a pair of breathing spiracles on their rear ends, which they try to keep exposed to the air!

There are exceptions to all of this, though; there are species that can be fully aquatic, fully terrestrial, herbivorous, parasitic or predatory, and some ancient fly groups (including mosquitoes!) whose larvae still have fully armored heads and even eyes. Everything above is universal to the maggots you find in rotten stuff though, so what most people think of when they hear the term :) When I designed a hybrid human and blowfly maggot for the Mortasheen setting I deliberately made it look like a doofy cartoon Walrus, and I gave its segments large spines that can be seen in some parasitic maggots, including botflies:

And when I made a maggot character for my webcomic Awful Hospital I designed her like a little spacesuit or a parka (the resemblance to Kenny was an accident)

Actually I don't think I ever shared this most recent "main artwork" of Maggie. I don't know what idea inspiration any of this might provide but basically a maggot is a prickly living sock with fangs. Or I guess from a design and engineering perspective, a maggot is a biological drill. The tiny end starts a hole, the rest of the body is just a flaring cone perfectly equipped to keep making the hole deeper.

[jammydodger3579]

Young Lust pt. 4

Summary: Y/N fills Logan in on her past

A/N: So this is just filler for now, a bit of backstory to flesh out the reader.. hopefully, you like it, and we'll do some spy stuff in the next chapter, promise.

Previous chapter || Masterlist || Patreon

18+ for mature audiences only.

2000+ word count.

Warnings: smut, mentions of SA and grooming, panic attacks. cursing (? I can never remember)

“So wait, what? tell me that again” Y/N said, blinking. She was taken aback. Logan let out an exaggerated groan as he moved around in bed. He sat up and looked at his girlfriend. 

“I’m thinking of moving out of the mansion and I want you to come with me,” he said, searching Y/N’s face. She smiled. It had only been a few weeks since she’d left the hospital so she was still out of action in terms of fighting against the mutant Widows. She and Logan have been spending most of her recovery together at the mansion. She enjoyed staying with Logan, especially since the Professor and Tony had asked her and Yelena to lead a support group for the mutant Widows that they found. Y/N found it quite healing, talking with the other Widows about the after-effects of mind control. Things seemed to be going well for them, so Y/N didn’t know what to say at Logan’s proposition. 

“Why do you want to leave? I thought you loved this place,” she brought a hand up to hold Logan’s face, stroking over his beard with her thumb. He planted a soft kiss on her hand. 

“I do, but it’s time for me to move on. And I wanna move on with you,” he said, moving over so his body was on top of her. He started kissing that sweet spot on her neck, causing Y/N to moan into Logan’s touch. 

“Logan… we’ve only been together for a month…” she said, trying not to let Logan’s distraction tactics work. He lightly bit at her neck, causing her to moan again. 

“And it’s been great. I don’t want it to end, that’s why I’m asking for you to come with me” he looked deeply into her eyes. She wasn’t sure what to say. She would love to give up everything for Logan. The idea was tempting. But there were still men experimenting on mutant Widows. Y/N needed to finish the job. 

“Okay, but after Dreykovs followers are gone. I can’t leave this job unfinished” she said. Logan was smiling. He leaned down and kissed her passionately. “I thought you were tired, old man” 

“Never tired of this” he snaked a hand under her nightshirt to cup her right breast, this thumb brushing over her nipple. She moaned against his lips. 

“Lo, I’m still recovering” 

“I’ll be gentle” his face was nuzzled in the crook of her neck. 

“I don’t think that's possible for you” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Can we just lie here instead, I’m tired” Logan sighed, nodding against her neck. The two fell asleep intertwined in each other. 

The image of her own corpse returned to Y/N’s mind, repeating the same words, ‘Worthless!! Replaceable!! Disposable!! Unloveable!!” with an unnatural jerk of the hand, it reached out towards her, bones crunching as it moved. She screamed as the body got off the table, moving closer and closer towards her. The closer the body got, the more decomposed it looked. Maggots crawled around the mouth, the eyes looked hollow and white. It spat thick black blood in her face. Y/N sank to the floor, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“You’re not real, you’re not real” she repeated, over and over again. 

“You’ll never amount to anything,” it said in a demonic voice. Y/N kicked her leg up, snapping the head off the corpse. 

She awoke, startled. She sat up in bed, putting her head in her hands. Logan stirred, waking up next to her. 

“Hey, you okay?”

“Bad dream, go back to sleep,” she said, slowly getting out of bed. She went over to her dresser and pulled out some pants. She gently pulled them over her legs. Logan got out of bed and walked over to her.

“Hey, talk to me, what was it” 

“Nothing, I’m going to the gym” 

“No, talk to me. You’ve been distant ever since the accident. What’s going on?” Logan had two hands on her shoulders, searching her face for an explanation. She shook Logan's hands away, slipping past him to leave the room. 

“Drop it, Logan,” she said before exiting the room. She made her way down to the gym, putting her headphones on and getting out a yoga mat. She did the yoga routine that Jean taught her to do to aid her recovery while listening to music. She was in her own little world so she didn’t notice someone coming in until the lights turned on. She took her headphones off and looked up at Logan. She sighed. “I told you, I didn’t want to talk” 

“I’m here to exercise,” he said, pulling a yoga mat over to Y/N. She scoffed. 

“Yoga, really?” 

“You’re not supposed to judge,” he said, stretching onto the mat. She smiled as she watched Logan attempt to do yoga. She continued her routine, stretching up into a downward dog position. She turned to look at Logan, who was attempting to do the happy baby pose. 

“Like this” Y/N demonstrated the proper pose and Logan watched. She sighed, stretching her hands over to her head. “I had a friend… a really close friend. She was a Widow too, so we all grew up together. She was beautiful… but she also got me in trouble for sneaking out, doing drugs on missions and stealing from the guards. She always played the innocent card, and then one day, she just disappeared. Without a trace. I’ll never know where she went. I’m glad she’s gone because since doing therapy I’ve figured out she’s just a really bad person… but I’m also sad that my best friend is gone. Yelena is no help, she always thought Evie was bad. She’s always saying ‘I told you so’ so I just stopped talking about it. Everything is fast-paced with Evie, we were gonna get out together and run away. Live in the mountains or something. Instead, she probably just got herself killed… and I shouldn’t miss her because she’s the one who introduced me to oxy. But I do miss her… A part of me thinks I’ll find her in one of these bases” She couldn’t make eye contact with Logan as he spoke. He sighed and moved so he was sitting next to her, wrapping an arm around her. “She… she assaulted me when we were young and I only just realized as I was doing therapy with the other Widows… She would make me… do things to her… things I didn’t want to do… but she’d say she would stop being my friend if I didn’t do them” Y/N was crying, she didn’t know why she was crying but she was. Logan was rubbing her back, consoling her. 

“I’m glad you told me…” Logan said, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Of course, I… I love you” She said for the first time. Logan smiled and kissed her. 

“I love you too… now can we please go back to bed? It’s like 2 am” Y/N nodded, getting up. She and Logan returned the yoga mats to their respective places before walking up to his room. She felt peaceful like a weight had been lifted off her chest. The two crawled into bed and fell asleep together. 

—

The Saturday morning sun was beaming through the curtains, waking Y/N from her sleep. She didn’t know what time it was, nor did she care as she had nothing planned for the day. Logan was sleeping beside her, as he had no reason to get up early. She rolled over in bed so she was spooning Logan, causing him to stir awake. 

“Hey, I’m big spoon,” he said, his voice groggy from sleep. Y/N smiled and kissed his shoulder. 

“Not today, you’re not,” she said. Logan rolled over to face her. He kissed her passionately, his hand on her hip to pull her flush against him. She smiled into the kiss, feeling Logan’s growing erection against her. “Someone’s excited” Logan moaned in agreement, moving so he was on top of Y/N. He slowly grinded against her, his need increasing. 

“Is this okay?” he pulled away to search her face. She nodded. 

“Yes,” she said, taking off her nightshirt. Logan was going slow, taking his time planting kisses down her neck and chest. He stopped at her breast, sucking gently on her nipple. He reached down and ran two fingers over her slit, on top of her underwear. She brought her hips up to Logan, urging him to keep going. He lightly bit at her nipple, causing a moan to leave her lips. She reached down and slipped out of her underwear. Logan teased her cunt, feeling just how wet she was. She moaned, pulling Logan in for a kiss. It was needy, she wanted him now. Logan got the hint, taking off his underwear and stroking himself. He ran his cock against her entrance before slipping inside. Y/N let out a breathy gasp, wrapping her arms around Logan's neck. They kissed passionately, Logan’s tongue dominating her mouth. He moved agonisingly slow, for once wanting to savour each moment, each feeling, each breath. It was sensual, the way they moved in sync with each other. Each thrust from Logan brought Y/N closer to her finish. She pulled away from the kiss, slightly breathless. “I’m gonna need you to speed up” 

“Yes ma’am” Logan shifted his weight onto his knees, pulling her hips down to meet his. She smiled at the shift, excited for what’s to come. Logan’s thrust slowly sped up, increasing to a sloppy pace. He could feel she was close, her pussy clenching around his cock. The room filled with the sound of their pleasure, a symphony of moans from the two of them. 

“L-Logan, I’m gonna-” With a shudder, she came, unravelling around Logan. She bucked her hips into his, eager for him to feel just as good. Logan came with just a few more thrusts, filling her deep inside. Logan pulled Y/N up to him, kissing her roughly as they rode out their highs together. She pulled away from the kiss, leaning her forehead against his. “I-I love you…” 

“I love you too” They sealed their expression with another kiss before a knock on the door interrupted them. Logan groaned. “What is it?” 

“The Professor wants to see you both” Jean's voice rang through the door. Logan groaned, separating himself from Y/N. The two showered and got dressed before making their way to the Professor's office. Tony and Jean were there too. Y/N took a seat in front of the desk and Logan stood behind her. There was a holograph playing security camera footage on Xavier’s desk. 

“We have new intel on who’s running these mutant Widow camps,” the Professor said, turning the holograph around. Y/N’s heart was racing, deep down she knew but she didn’t want to believe it. Those hollow eyes, that evil smile. Staring back at her was her greatest enemy and best friend. The one that groomed her and abused her and made her feel loved and cared for. The person she worried she would bump into all the time, the one that made her feel undeserving of good things. “Her name is Evie Oakley, she’s been running them for the past seven or so years,”

His words sounded muffled like she was underwater. She could hear her heart racing. Gasping for air, she looked at Logan who was saying something to the other men. She wanted to focus on his words but there was a pounding in her head. She looked around the room, trying desperately to focus on something, anything that would bring her back to reality. Jean looked at her before looking back at the men. She was yelling something. Y/N stood up from her seat and started to walk to the door before breaking down in sobs. 

“Worthless!! Replaceable!! Disposable!! Unloveable!!” the words rang through her head over and over. She couldn’t breathe. Someone placed a hand on her shoulder and by reflex she shook it away before noticing it was Logan. 

“Y/N are you okay? What do you need?” She regained her breath, holding tightly onto Logan’s hand. The pounding in her head dissipated. She looked at Logan, focusing on his features, his hazel eyes, his kind smile. She could get through this. She wiped her face from tears and took a deep breath. 

“I need to finish the job”

[universallydestinytaco]

*yawn* Is it Halloween yet?

EDIT: So apparently in the Spanish Dub for SF Charlie's girlfriend is named Zoey and I made this post before that info became more well-known and prior I dubbed her as Susan....Zoey is a cute name OMG

Okay, so I’m bored and I wanna yap about a Corpse Bride AU I plan on later making into a fanfic or at least a few comics for Halloween this year, Charlie VanDort is in love with Zoey Everglot but he accidentally proposes to Zombie!Pim who whisks Charlie away to the Land of the Dead for the Honeymoon to die for! Meanwhile Zoey is engaged to the sketchy Mr. Frog who has quite the skeleton in his closet…

Oh yeah and Mr Boss is the Priest of the Undead, Dj Spitz is Bonejangles, Glep is the maggot and Alan is the Spider. Y’know what screw it I’m gonna draw this AU and show it off later ALSO check out this awesome sketch my buddy @zeronighthaze drew for me back in November/December! Please go follow Azuni and @smiling-friends-stories for more awesome SF stuff like this, thanks!!

[hasturs-fanboy-number-one]

ok so my friends and i spent a large amount of time discussing whether the invisible creature can pass the harkness test which led to a discussion of what other non-humans in the podcast can ethically be fucked which led to us categorizing stuff

so i present to you

malevolent fuckability tier list

full transcription, tier explanation and stuff below

MILFS tier - gotta pay respect to the lades: shub, the witch, mother darkness (will add lilith once she gets some action)

there are basically no not fucked up humans on this tier list cos it's a) boring and b) this is a creechurs, places and concepts tier list

everyone above grey area passes the harkness test so they can be ethically and consentualy fucked

onto the tiers!

KIY tier - he's a mandatory entry on everyones sex tourism, seeing as he's being fucked over for four seasons straight, also i'm biased towards my dear wife

FUCK YEAH tier - can give enthusiastic consent and be into it: larson, the moss cave from ep 15, horig, prison guards (if they can be employed they can be fucked), lorick, yorick, grand vizier from ep 40 (the tentacle-face thing that was parroting john), scratch, kayne, the three soldiers, mr faust, the dancers (mentioned in ep 20 as the kings heralds, same logic as the prison guards), malam, the creature from the labyrinth in ep 17, the hand of malevolence (can not speak but is literally a perfect toy and is an object), the trader from the dreamlands, that person that was hiding in the mines on the rafters in ep 27

ZOO BUT IT'S OK ACTUALLY tier - butcher is a dog but that won't stop anyone

HEAR ME OUT tier - it's hot if you're not a coward: the forest from ep 14, the dreamlands desert, the big cave, the ship in the desert from ep 15, the dreamlands as a whole, hyadies, greystone, blackstone, the sandstorm, the plateu, the a-frame ceiling from maries house, the wallussy (ep 41 and whatever glory hole in the tavern arthur was looking through at his past self when kayne was explaining the malevolent cinematic universe in intermenzzo), the fog from ep 8, the crystalizer of dreams

HARKNESS TEST GREY AREA tier - we could not determine if they'd be able to consent due to the states of awareness they're in being unclear: uncle (does not speak and seems to have a child-like behaviour at times), the invisible monster from the mines in s3 (can speak but poorly, might be larsons daughter, unclear if it retains speech once disconnected from the people it feeds on), the wraith from s1 (seems out of it mostly), the things arthur said were similar to the devils from the bible in ep 14 in the forest (not clear on what intelligence they poses), the eye tentacle monster from ep 9 (also unclear)

ZOO tier - creatures that have intelligence closer to that of an animal: the widow from ep 8 (she was a mindless ghoul at that point), the two policeman from ep 9 (and all policeman in general), the thousand young, the hound of tindalos from ep 5 (the fucked up fractal dog), the rats that chased arthur in the hotel in ep 10, the spider from that same hotel, thhe snake-electric eel thing from the boat in the dreamlands ep 15, the maggots (season 5), owlexander (he's sus but until further notice will remain in this category), the worm things taht burrowed in oscars arm in ep 37, the tadpoles from the river/lake from ep 11

NECRO tier - frank (more specifically his corpse in ep 18), mr faust again, the prince (dead and delirious). excluded from this tier were arthurs corpse and parkers corpse for the lack of screenshotable transcriptions

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Forbidden Fruit Spoils the Fastest

Pairing: Viserys I Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Crack fic, graphic description of decomposition, smut, mention of death and broken bones. Word count: ~1.2k

Summary: Viserys' chambermaid gets carried away.

Author's note: A request from my boo-bear @em-writes-stuff-sometimes - she wanted Vizzy in his rotting era, so that is what I have delivered. This is a crack fic - please don't read if you are easily offended. Community labels are for cops.

An existence endured in poverty denies you the sight of many things; fine clothing, rare jewels, even a roof over your head. It also stymies the opportunity for rot. Food is so scarce that it is devoured before it ever has the chance to spoil. Disease is rife in Flea Bottom, people pass well before they begin to experience the ravages of old age.

It is only when she finds herself a job within the kitchens of the Red Keep that she ever encounters the wasteful nature of those that live a life of abundance. Fruit, meat and cheese are all left on the side to spoil. She watches in fascination as peaches go soft, the skin wrinkling and collapsing in upon itself. The ghoulish green tinge that tarnishes meat as it lingers for days untouched mesmerises her. The little blue specks that grow upon the cheese seem to have a life all their own.

What isn’t fed to the hounds is simply tossed into the street, where it is either taken away by stray animals, or the poor of King’s Landing. She doubts that those residing within the Keep see a difference between the two.

The cook shrugs. “They will buy more,” he says simply when she enquires as to why so much is thrown away. “Days-old food is not fitting for royalty.”

The sentiment repulses her, yet the decay is fascinating. There is a strange beauty in watching something transform and break down, giving life to mould and maggots, becoming unpalatable.

She is moved from her position in the kitchens to one within Maegor’s Holdfast. With the deterioration of the health of King Viserys, more staff are needed to tend to the care of him.

The smell when she first enters his bedchamber causes her to take a step back. It is as though she has walked into a wall. It is nauseating, akin to the stench of the spoiled meat and fruit that they discard in the kitchens, but infinitely more powerful. Viserys is not ill; he is decomposing, a living corpse.

She is transfixed as she stands over him; he is frail, wasted away as he lays there, his skin mottled in hues of purple and grey. She wonders, if she pushed her fingers against his skin, if it would yield like the flesh of rotted fruit. It’s an arousing thought, but one she is startled from when another chambermaid instructs her that she will need to change the bed linens once the King has been lifted from the mattress.

Her throat runs dry as he is lifted away from the bedsheets, revealing the stain that his prone body has left behind, like the blood that leaches from a rotting venison haunch as it gathers flies. She notes that the scent is familiar as she plucks it from the bed. 

Do his attendants even bathe him anymore, or would his flesh simply slough away from his bones, making stew out of him?

As the weeks press on, she is given more responsibility in caring for Viserys. She is left alone with him once it is felt she can be trusted, tasked with delivering milk of the poppy to him from the Maester.

She takes a sip, allowing the bitter liquid to rest against her tongue for a moment before swallowing and assisting Viserys in drinking the rest, a faint grumble of gratitude escaping his throat as she tips the cup against his parched lips.

“Some for me, and some for you.” She smiles as she feels euphoria wash over her.

The diluted opiate makes the stench more bearable, allowing her to examine him more carefully. He does not speak when she lifts away the golden half mask that covers the right side of his face, simply lays there, barely lucid and groans softly.

The cavernous void in his skull where his eye used to be is a gruesome sight, but she is unable to look away. It’s hypnotic to be able to peer all the way inside of someone’s skull and her fingers twitch with the urge to poke around inside.

She resists, deciding Viserys is likely already in enough pain. It’s probably been an age since he last felt any pleasure. She doubts Alicent has touched him in years and the thought makes her pity him. Does he even have a cock anymore, or is there another gaping hole where it has simply been eaten away to nothing?

Before she has time to think fully about what she is doing, she lifts away the quilt that is laid over him. Nightclothes cover his body, yet she can tell he is in a sorry state. He is skeletal beneath the thin material and, as she pulls it upwards, the flesh not marred by lesions is grey, varicose and wilted.

She holds her breath as she reaches the apex of his rakish thighs, expecting the sight between them to horrify her. She is more shocked by the fact that the rot has yet to spread to this portion of him. It sits flaccid and pale against slightly sagging stones, nestled in sparse curls.

Taking him into her hand, she strokes him softly, her eyebrows raise in surprise when he slowly stirs to life against her palm.

“Once you are too rotten to be King, they’ll throw you away like last week’s pheasant,” she tells him matter of factly, watching as he becomes fully hard. He groans quietly. He’s not the largest she’s ever seen, but what he lacks in length he makes up for in girth. “I may as well give you a good time before that happens. Would you like that?”

“Aemma…” he rasps.

She furrows her brow, annoyance prickling hotly at her skin. “If I’m going to fuck you, you sickly old fool, you could at least use the right name!”

Sighing, she shucks off her small clothes before lifting her skirts and straddling Viserys. She spits into her palm, smearing it between her legs and over his length, positioning him at her entrance and sinking down.

She giggles as his face twists in an expression that is halfway between pain and pleasure, slowly beginning to rock her hips. Her eyes travel over what’s left of his face, attempting to piece together what he might have looked like before he began to waste away.

“I have always wanted to fuck a King,” she murmurs, picking up her pace, buttocks slapping against his thighs. “A pity the rot got to you before I did, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

Moaning softly, she revels in the way Viserys stretches her, her eyes fluttering closed, not caring about the utter depravity of the act she’s committing.

A sickening crack causes her to gasp, feeling something give way beneath her. Viserys lets out a piteous cry of pain and she quickly scrambles off of him, throwing the bedclothes back over him and hurriedly putting her smallclothes back on.

Shit. I’ve broken the poor cunt’s hip.

Panic courses through her, her heart beats wildly against her chest. She rushes from the room, spending the remainder of the day busying herself with laundering sheets and bedclothes, until later that evening the news spreads like wildfire throughout the Keep.

King Viserys has died.

She is unsurprised by the news, smiling to herself as she continues her task of folding a sheet.

At least that rotten old fruit had one last chance to get it wet before being thrown away.

[cactusisconfused]

Hi!

Cw: descriptions of injuries, death, corpses and implied dissociation.

-

There’s something about the image of Ghost standing on a smoking battlefield. The fight ended minutes ago, but his lungs don’t understand that. The corpses surrounding him still look warm- the corpses that are all still together, that is.

There’s one, used to be a young lad. He’s on the ground, his dim eyes half lidded and mouth slightly agape. There’s a large gash in his chest, his ribs treating to fall out as his blood seeps and stains the singed grass beneath him.

Ghost watches as a bunny, with its nose jittering and ears flickering, comes to the corpse, burrowing its way to make a cove inside the mahogany chest- coating the sheer white fur into pristine rose with small bouts of organs for decoration.

A fox comes by, its eyes zeroing in on the body- never the bunny. Why hunt when the creature has a feast for months?

The vultures will come soon and the ants will make their colonies.

Vaguely, Ghost can feel the maggots writhing about on his skin, trying to dig underneath, into his veins, into his bones, into the very molecular atoms that compose his worthless being.

It’s getting cold, he thinks. Maybe.

His radio makes noise. Someone is calling his name. Telling him to come to evac. The missions over.

Ghost wonders if the maggots will make their way through the radio as well.

-

Uh idk what this is to be real. I just wanted to write something descriptive and gory cause it’s ✨October✨

Also, also, sorry that my stuff has been a bit short lately, running a little low on ideas :)

[hazelnut-u-out]

Has anyone come up with an AU where Rick tried to resurrect his Beth and Diane but they’re just horrifying corpses that keep rotting and falling apart, but he loves them anyway?

Idk like I can see him trying to flirt with Diane by brushing her hair behind her ear and her ear just… falls off. Corpse Bride style romance, yk? Maggots in the marital bed type stuff.

(obviously this would only work prior to her being erased, but post bomb explosion)

[yuri-is-online]

You Simple Vile Monstrosity: Rook and the Flowers of Evil

My other two dumb history posts have at least a semblance of fun fact to them, but this is mostly going to be literary analysis and some theory. There's some interesting stuff here sure, but I don't really think it adds much to the overall landscape of twst theories. But it does make Rook make more sense to me so I am making this post anyway.

So without further ado, if you are like me and enjoy reading twst theories, you might know that the beginning lines of Twisted Wonderland are something we have been debating the meaning of since the game came out really. While I think we have been closing in on their true meaning as Chapter 7 progresses along, the phrase "Flowers of Evil" can actually refer to something specific: a french poetry collection of the same name (Les Fleurs du mal in french) by a poet name Charles Baudelaire originally published in 1857. The collection was extremely controversial, but today it is highly lauded and has inspired several other literary works, including a manga series by Shūzō Oshimi of the same name. I found out about the poetry collection while working on this request and finally finished reading it... and another essay by Baudelaire for reasons we can talk about later on in the post. For now let's talk poetry.

Beauté! 100 Points!

I don't speak french, so I read an English translation done by Aaron Poochigian that does contain the original french text in the back half of the book. The Flowers of Evil is split into seven-ish parts: The Flowers of Evil (just containing "To the Reader"), Spleen and the Ideal, Parisian Scenes, Wine, Flowers of Evil (again but with 12 poems this time), Revolt, and then Death. The sections are more or less organized by the subject of the poems, Spleen and the Ideal is the largest with Baudelaire musing over what the ideal concept of beauty is while Wine deals with getting drunk (on wine mostly if you can believe it.) One of the things that jumps out very quickly about Baudelaire's work is that his concept of beauty is almost synonymous with his concept of evil. He writes a lot about maggots eating corpses, about decay, he has a few poems that talk about vampires appearing to be the highest form of beauty but really being husks of rotted flesh; it's all very much about this acceptance that evil is a part of life and human nature, so therefore there must be beauty in it. The concept of "ideal beauty" must by it's nature be divorced from the concept of "morality." When Rook talks about the potential for Leona or Malleus to kill him and how beautiful that would be, I think he means the act of destruction itself would be beautiful. The circumstances surrounding it and the consequences of it are irrelevant to the concept; this is also why while he initially says he cannot find the crimson lotuses in GloMas beautiful Deuce accuses him of doing just that after everything is said and done. He cannot find beauty in Rollo's actions, but the visual and the fight are beautiful because of the effort he and the other students put in to stop them. And perhaps most importantly, it's why he is willing to drink Vil's poison and look upon what is supposedly ultimate ugliness and say "In this moment you are the fairest of them all." Because how could an act born out of such raw and genuine emotion be anything but?

Le Chasseur D'Armour, The Hunter of Love

Baudelaire wasn't just a poet, he fancied himself a critic and wrote multiple essays, the one I read for this post is The Painter of Modern Life. Which is actually a collection of several but they are all related, and I was directed to them by this wordpress post. In it, Baudelaire muses over how things can be both beautiful and ugly, and why:

"Beauty is made up of an eternal, invariable element, whose quantity it is excessively difficult to determine, and of a relative, circumstantial element... which severally or all at once, the age, its fashions, its morals, its emotions."

He was talking about fashion plates that depicted outdated costumes, but his point was more or less that if you strictly look at the design of the costume they look ridiculous: ugly. But when you take into account their historical value (these particular plates were all from the around the time of the French revolution) they become exceedingly important: beautiful. He also mentions in this same essay the importance of not just taking into account the opinions of so called "masters" and sneers at people who think they understand what is beautiful just because they have seen a painting done by a professional:

"... to declare that Raphael, or Racine, does not contain the whole secret, and that minor poets too have something good, solid and delightful to offer... that we might love general beauty, as it is expressed by classical poets and artists, we are no less wrong to neglect particular beauty, the beauty of circumstance and the sketch of manners."

In chapter 5, while helping Vil judge the auditions for VDC, Rook gives every audition 100 points because, well, in his mind they are all an example of perfect beauty specifically because they are the work of amateurs, and that is no less valuable to him or less worthy of praise that the work of the master. Now granted he clearly does value professional quality (he did have reasons for voting for Neige other than being a massive simp. Valid ones even if loosing does sting) but that's only in the context of strict rules and guidelines. When Rook is asked for his opinion, while he certainly does believe there is an absolute, academic definition beauty, he doesn't place any value on where that beauty comes from. Baudelaire muses over how human life "accidentally" puts mysterious beauty into the world, and the true appreciator of beauty must make himself not strictly a poet but:

"...an observer of life, and only later set himself the task of acquiring the means of expressing it... For most of us... the fantastic reality of life has become singularly diluted. [But he] never ceases to drink it in; his eyes and memories are full of it."

I strongly dislike suggesting in these posts that xyz is "the definitive reason" for why a character acts the way that he does, but I do think it is very interesting how well this describes Rook's ethos. He thinks of himself as a hunter, but in order to do that he needs to observe. Sure he takes it to exceptionally extreme lengths, but it makes him one of the most lively members of the NRC cast. Baudelaire is right, there are a million things about life we miss on a day to day basis wherein true beauty lies, but Rook sees all of it. His eyes, memories, camera, and secret photo albums are fit to burst with it.

My Noble and Beautiful Flower of Evil

I mentioned the opening text at the beginning of this post, and I stand by my interpretation that the phrase "flower of evil" it uses likely is not a specific reference to any of the poems themselves... beyond the obvious note that it is a collection of poems about finding beauty in, well, evil and most of the characters are based off of villains.

But there was something that started gnawing at me when I read the introduction to my translation, which was written by a poet named Dana Gioia. It was a very well written summary of Baudelaire's life and the significance of his work, but it mentioned a connection that I have seen brought up in twst theorizing before: Edgar Allen Poe.

You see, Baudelaire was obsessed with Poe. To the point that (according to the introduction) "He considered Poe a sacred martyr for art and referred to him as 'Saint Edgar.' In his morning devotions, Baudelaire prayed first to God and then to Poe."

I have nothing to say on that (because really what could you) but the point that Gioia wanted to make in that introduction was that Poe had a massive influence on Baudelaire's writing style. He wrote multiple essays on his work and translated them into French because he felt like Poe deserved the recognition, so while Gioia used this to argue that Poe's influence on Baudelaire shouldn't be underestimated...

I can't find the post, but someone was talking about how Malleus's mother's name Meleanor is very similar to "Lenore" and I recall people sort of brushing that connection off. I don't that name is a coincidence. I think the poem "Lenore" might very well have been something thought about when constructing her character, and that the themes in Poe's work might be very relevant to the overall story of Twisted Wonderland.

Something about ravens and telltale hearts just feels like they fit; maybe we have got it all wrong and Yuu's visions aren't coming from the mirror in Ramshackle, but the floorboards.

Semi- Unrelated Fun Facts:

If you read the name Baudelaire and thought to yourself it sounded familiar, you might have be thinking of the Baudelaire children from A Series of Unfortunate Events. This isn't exactly a coincidence as the author of the series admits to his writing being heavily influenced by Charles Baudelaire to the point he actually wrote the afterword to the translation I own.

Dana Gioia is the former Poet Laureate of the state of California, something that deeply confused me. Apparently the Governor of California appoints someone to a 2 year term and they travel around the state to promote poetry and literacy which is apparently something that 46/50 U.S. states and D.C. does to????

My glorious motherland of Pennsylvania is not one of these states, apparently we only ever appointed one, then eliminated the position entirely after he retired, and then started just. Handing out ones to people in individual cities and counties. Which is so par for the course here I don't know why I am surprised.

One of the first things any college level literature course will try to drill into you is that you don't examine the life of an author when examining their work. It might sound silly, but I think Baudelaire is a great example of why that's important. The man was addicted to drugs and sex, refused to get a "real job", lived off his inheritance from his wealthy father and eventually whatever money he could convince his mother to send him his entire adult life, and had her use her political connections to bail him out of legal trouble multiple times.

If I thought too hard about that it would make his lines in "Skeleton Laborers" (Nothingness is treacherous.//Even Death is a deceiver.//Alas, forever and ever,//work may be awaiting us) fall terribly flat, which I think does them a disservice. The man was very talented and I am glad he wrote them because I felt very seen when I read them.

Baudelaire opened his publication with a note to the reader, but he made it a full poem entitled "To the Reader." I liked the ending stanza so much I used a version of it to title my blog, and eventually my current masterlist: (Boredom! Moist-eyed, he dreams, while pulling on//a hookah pipe, of guillotine-cleft necks.//You, reader, know this tender freak of freaks-//hypocrite reader-mirror-man-mytwin!)

Likewise the title of this post is also taken from part of a poem, "Hymn to Beauty" (Beauty, you simple, vile monstrosity,//I cannot care about your origin,//provided that your gaze, smile, feet show me//a sweet infinity I have never known.) I think that fits Rook's ideals rather well, don't you?

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

I don’t understand the tamurkhan question jokes…

Tamurkhan is a chaos lord of Nurgle from Warhammer Fantasy. He's also in the trailer I posted yesterday. He is not actually the big ogre on the toad dragon. He is a large maggot-baby-worm-thing inside the big ogre, puppeting its corpse. The way he works is that, when his host body is destroyed or breaks down, he bursts out of the rotting carcass of his previous host and stuffs himself into the mouth, throat and torso of his new home :)

If you take a look at "Tamurkhan" in the trailer, you'll notice his lower jaw is all loose and wobbly, and there are morgue-style scar lines down his chest, as indicators of his forced habitation. The rows of sharp teeth and long tongue in the ogre's mouth are the only visible parts of Tamurkhan proper.

He's called Tamurkhan the Maggot Lord because he is in fact a maggot that is a chaos lord. He's a very lordly maggot.

[isa-ghost]

ok

*insert coin*

Can I ask for q!Phil hcs BUT when he's fully un Bird mode :D

Jokes on you that's easy, those are just more plain qPhil hcs for me >:D

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Sometimes if he's in a fight that he's not taking seriously he'll put some goofy ass music on in his headphones. Some favorites include the Mario invincibility star theme, Waltz of the Meatball Man, and the kind of bubbly anime ending music that plays over an emotionally devastating scene

After way too much stress, once he gets Chayanne & Lullah to bed and is on his own he'll go somewhere and just. Scream. For as long as it takes. And then he chugs tea or noodle broth to prevent his throat from dying on him.

Sleep schedules his beloathed <- wants to spend more time with a bunch of islanders he doesn't get to see often

Out of the 3 polycule members, Fit is best at cheering him up. He knows Phil best and the extent to which he lacks a filter sometimes is too powerful for Phil not to at least smile at

His wheeze laugh is the best thing ever to the the kids. If the two of them can make him wheeze, they know they've done their job right.

As soon as he knows something is safe (the maze, an event site like the code builds, that new mountain at old Spawn, etc) he's the first one to start exploring. He's been that way as long as he can remember ;)

*Slaps top of his head* This old man can fit so much survivor's guilt in him

He's only old in age and wisdom, if you try to imply he's geriatric he will get SO out of pocket about the things he's done with Fit & Etoiles and you will regret it

Okay so I've talked about how his worst fear is not having control, especially of himself. And I've talked about other fears of his, but I don't think I've mentioned his fear of loss yet. He tries to pretend he isn't, he'll insist he isn't, and to some degree he isn't Entirely wrong, but he is afraid. Being as old as he is means you get a bit desensitized to loss because it's natural when the things and people around you don't live for as long as you do. The part of it Phil fears, or maybe hates is a better word, is all the emotional turmoil after. That bone-deep ache of grief, the heaviness that refuses to leave his chest, how easy it is to emotionally compromise him, the hollowness that consumes him. The way he can't think or sleep properly, how his motivation is completely wiped out, how embarrassing it feels to not be at 100% in front of people. He HATES the aftermath of it all.

Excursions, Shuniji, and ofc Weirdest Year by C418 are Phil grief songs, in this essay I will

The Federation has learned that if they want Phil to attend an event he isn't particularly interested in, all they have to do is have really good food there, especially Latino food

He does legitimately gag a little when he kills a mob and flies or maggots come out of it. That's not just drama, he fr is like 🤢. It reminds him of the first time he saw Ender King's corpse

A fraction of the reason why he has people he trusts very deeply, like Fit, whitelisted on his security stuff is bc he knows if he ever got too depressed (like when the kids were missing), he'd never leave the house and just bum around feeling awful despite being restless. Having them whitelisted means they can get in and force him to get some air and stop festering in his emotions.

See I could get into a whole analysis abt this but like. So many of my angst hcs for him are abt how he's kinda shit at taking care of himself, esp when the people he cares for the most are removed from the equation. But it's not that he's incapable of it, he's not a baby or something like that. It's another part of how he's so locked into being the caretaker, the protector, the Strong One, the wise one, etc etc etc that he Hates being in the reversed role. He's gone so long without it that now it's foreign and unpleasant to him. He feels weak & like a burden. But at the same time, going so long without being in the reversed role is unhealthy and he NEEDS to be the one taken care of or protected sometimes. Everyone does. It's a double-edged sword: be the caretaker, shoulder everything & suffer OR be the one taken care of, feel awful about it for one reason or another. He can't win. He hates the latter but he needs it occasionally just like anyone else. He prefers the former, but the toll it takes over time is extensive.

It's why he'll do little things in an attempt to remedy it. To avoid being full-on taken care of for once while also not Only doing the reverse. Watching the sunset with the kids, adventuring in new and exciting places, sparring with friends, etc. His escape is making vivid fond memories to look back on and smile about, even if they don't always fix his emotional state. At least he isn't fully neglecting himself.

[froggybrainz]

More headcannons/funfacts

Entity:

I talked about how they can't read or write cause of a curse that was put on them after the fall, so all words just look like a blurred mess to them.

They also have glass spon hair (really messy/uncombable bedhair). It's not fluffy, just really dry and spiky.

Despite being called The Red Devil, no one in the underworld actually knows that it's them. With such an underwhelming frame, they just get overlooked. Doesn't help that they just absolutely hate being called that.

Got called Weasle alot when they were still an angel due to always getting into stuff and having a small frame. Entity is only 5'5ft compared to their more taller siblings being 7 to 10 ft. The small build had to do with their species of angel that they were. Smaller hands but a passion for creation meant that they were responsible for adding life to earth and maintaining it. No need to be big and strong

Icarus

Finds all life fascinating but hates worms. Idk. He'd rather pick up a bunch of spiders, but as soon as he spots a grub. He would get weirded out. It's probably cause it makes him think about all the dead cult followers and how they met their end so soon. Just visions of the corpses being consumed by maggots just makes him sad. Another reason as to why Icarus hates Entity, they're just like the worms.

Icarus has a habit of running away, so he spends most of his time in a cage like a bird. I felt like the name Icarus would suit him due to his want of freedom.

He is also fascinated by technology due to him never really being allowed outside The Garden. So if you let them over your house, He would probably just be flicking the lights on and off cause thats cool! Entity would be more than happy to let him leave, but he knows Icarus would never come back, so they gotta keep their baby at-home at all times.

I don't actually ship Entity and Konstantin together. I actually like the idea of Icarus and Konstantin getting together. Entity just like tormenting him.

Frankie

He has a sleeper build. This man has the ability to put you down if he needs to. Not that he wants to

He very much loves Will. And he's open about it, but Will just takes it as bromance, so he pulls poor Frankie along. Just tugging his poor heart strings lol

He's protective over kids, so he doesn't like Jack very much.

He has a very rare ability not seen in most zombies or anomalies, for that matter. Being practically immortal is only seen in very few "higher-ups." Regenerative abilities are sought out in the underworld, and those who have it are often associated with royalty.

Zalgo

My first and only time I mentioned him, but I feel like adding stuff about him.

Because of his power and authority over the underworld, he often gets mistaken as The Red Devil. He goes with it cause it makes people more scared of him.

He's more of a brain parasite than devil tbh. He only got his way up the food chain by controlling the minds of others until he got what he wanted.

He is 100% slenders ex-husband, and I love it. He still has a picture of him by his nightstand

[myrtles-and-blood]

𝓞𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓑𝓮𝓮𝓵𝔃𝓮𝓫𝓾𝓫

Maggots — a small poem

Inside of you there's a rotting heart.

It smells every time it beats,

it dies every time it feels,

and it'll end falling apart.

Your words attract flies,

and your smile makes me gag.

Your touch kills the dead,

and you make everyone cry.

Just as the violet,

just as the rose.

They'll en up dying.

You'll all be a corpse.

But when the families cry,

and the flowers rot above your grave,

just remember

you'll all be eaten by the same maggots one day.

How I see Lord Beelzebub — a brief description

He appears to me, and I've always thought about him in this way, as an old man. He looks like a short, old and skinny pale man with red compound eyes. The eyes are human shaped, but the inside is like the eyes of a fly, you know? Has fine white hair, always wears black suits, has a lot of flies around him and has some gold/silver teeth. He has very sharp features and kinda looks like Willem Dafoe, actually. For some reason he smokes cigars. Not cigarettes, though. I think he thinks they're stupid. He has, sometimes, a very fine and white beard that remains really short or it's not even there. He has a watch, too, and he looks at it very often. That really relates to him being associated with dying things, so it's cool.

About the offering — an exam

So I made this offering because tomorrow I have an exam, and I am very much lost 😀 So I promised him an offering regardless of if I pass or not. I really wanted to thank him for his daily contact with me, helping me through the torture that's sitting down and doing boring stuff on my desk in a good position with no phone.

We had this little convo through tarot:

Me: okay how are we feeling.

Beelzebub: Awful. This is... very disappointing.

Me: oh :(

Beelzebub: But you still have to do the test. You still have to show up and write down whatever feels right. I can see you are quite lost, but you know a bunch still. What you need to do right now is rest, because you look like you're about to explode, and hope for the best. Go do it, explain whatever you can, and don't think about it again. We have to focus on tomorrow, not yesterday. Maybe it was the worst test you'll ever do, but that doesn't matter because you have another test next week. You know more than what you think you do, maybe it's not enough, but it's more than you think.

Me: YES EXACTLY I'LL DO WHATEVER I CAN AND WE'LL KILL THAT EXAM HOW ARE YOU FEELING BECAUSE I'M FEELING LIKE I CAN DO ANYTHING, HOW ARE WE FEELING !!!!

Beelzebub: Yeah yeah I'm feeling great, you can do it, but go get some water and lay the fuck down.

It was a good pep talk, it cheered me up quite a lot actually. He's good at pep talks. So as a way to thank him I wrote him a poem! and a description of how I see him, just as a plus.

I really like exploring body horror when writing for him. I still have to get better at it (like, a lot better) but I'm getting there!

My intention in this poem, although you can interpret it however you want: I wanted to remind you that even when you feel disgusting, awful, like a living corpse, and you compare yourself to everyone else as if they were perfect, you are made as the same flesh and bone the rest are made. You are no different from anyone on this Earth, and we'll all die the same way.

Very simple poem. I usually like to make them with more meanings and stuff, but I wrote it in English and I have no energy whatsoever. Still, I hope you found it cool. If not, that's cool too. I tried to make it as nice as my last offering to him (which I thought was a very nice poem).

May Lord Beelzebub bless you, and when it's your time to go, may he lead you as you come back to the Earth that gave you life.

✶ dividers by @/priestboy ✶ image from Pinterest ✶