#grim the dog opinions

[grim-the-dogs-thoughts]

Adding to this...

Vent art, art that brings up dark societal issues without romanticizing the reality of human depravity, making a point of conversation on how IRL issues affect us and the world around us...

Is VERY different from actively depicting, say, C S A M for profit. It is very different to depict a vulnerable situation in a serious way, whether it be to cope with trauma or bring light to the issue, than to purposefully romaticize/ fetishize something for the sake of entertainment, shock value, and making money.

While vent art is used to express oneself and bring awareness, the latter example serves as a way to desensitize us to Actual Horrible Things. It's all a very fine and delicate balance, and more often than not it is ultimately all tied to subjective opinions and personal interpretations.

There is also a huge difference between a victim of trauma creating or consuming "dark content" that helps them cope with said trauma, and people who didn't live through it who consume that same content as a fetish, especially when it involves children.

All of this censoring and cancel culture has unfortunately made it so that people who are coping or bringing light to stuff are seen as monsters, while the real predators get away with things right under our noses. It has made it so that we are hyper critical of our peers and celebrities, while blinding us to the real threat around us.

It's the same concept as No Sex-Ed and Celibacy, it only makes us ignorant and thus easier to be fooled and taken advantage of.

----------

Second point:

We should not censor things left and right. Instead, we should use the rating and tagging system that has been around for decades now. Don't like something? Don't click on it, don't go looking for it. It's actually extremely hard to find deep, "disturbing" content without explicitly looking for it. And even if you somehow came across it by accident, most sites have a warning before showing it to you (Ao3 warns you TWICE).

Unfortunately, it seems that lately people aren't tagging anything as it should be. I have seen a general tagging laziness, especially amongst spaces like the anime and YA communities. They will post major spoilers with no tags and no warnings, and their posts and fics are the same. No content tags, only the name of the fandom and maybe the characters depicted.

*THIS* can cause people to come across content they don't want to see, and it *IS* a problem. What we need to do is band together and leave comments on those posts asking the person to please use tags, and maybe explain the system if they're unfamiliar (politely, please).

And if they come back with a rude response, then do by all means report their content if it violates community guidelines. They *do* need to learn, and some people only learn the hard way.

Anyway, tag your stuff properly, don't go around censoring and cancelling people without knowing the context first, and be safe online.

it's true and you should say it.

[aroaceleovaldez]

I have an idea if you make a pjo godly parent quiz- make it really hard/rare to get one of the big three! there’s always too many people who get Poseidon on the quizzes I’ve taken like where are all the Hermes kids…

I already intend to do this! I have a similar pet peeve, so I already incorporate that kind of weighted system into stuff like my random PJO oc generator, or I have a google form quiz where I will manually assign godly parents based on the results and I usually try to reserve big 3 kids a bit but honestly I don't usually even need to. Cause there is usually a different god who fits better which makes sense when you think about it.

Like, it's fandom. More specifically, it's a BOOK fandom. Of course the fandom is gonna be mostly Athena and Apollo and Hermes and maybe Dionysus kids. That basically just covers all the arts and an interest in books/mythology/history. One would expect the fandom to have disproportionately arts-and-literature-related godly parent assignments.

[the-busy-ghost]

Me normally: Let people love what they love

Me, after a Test Match Special commentator expresses their belief that the new All Creatures Great and Small is somehow "better" than the 1978 version: This is pure insanity and TMS can no longer be trusted on anything, how can they even be trusted to know about cricket, do they have no TASTE

[imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper]

Love how I can't even be stressed in my mom's general direction without her calling me a bitch or worse :/.

[dystopyx-blog]

Hi hi hun! Hope I’m not bugging you but I’d love to hear your opinion on the yandere Twst boys and who is willing to share darling/me/Yuu. I see so much sentiment about yanderes never sharing/teaming up but I just don’t get it. Some characters have such tight friendships, or fill what the other lacks, that I see them working together so well! Like sure you could divide them by dorm, kinda obvious, but then there are other less thought of team ups that could be fun. I’ve seen on here what’s dubbed as the number 2 squad (Leona, Jamil, and Vil) and I think that could be a relatively healthy (maybe a little competitive) team up. Others that come to mind, Jack and Vil, music club, and the four house husbands (Trey, Ruggie, Jamil, and Jade). Like teaming up means darling always has SOMEONE watching them. One may be better at comforting/calming darling, while another is more sly and can manipulate them better. There’s just so many fun combos you could play with! I’d love to hear what you think!

Remember to take care of yourself. Drink water, eat a snack, and stretch! Have a great day! 😊

Ty for the lovely ask, darl’ 🥺

Okay! Let's start with the team ups within each house!

HEARTSLABYUL

Ace and Deuce -- obviously. They're your first friends in the school (aside from Grim, but he doesn't count), the only people they hang out with aside from you is each other. They bicker, but they also understand that it's more advantageous for them to work together. Ace still teases Deuce and I think both of them still Daydream of getting you to themselves, but you've taught them the magic of teamwork and, unfortunately, you taught them well.

Riddle and Trey -- Childhood friends. Like with what we know of their story, I feel that Trey in particular would be willing to share with Riddle. And they're pretty well balanced as a yandere team. With them there is no cut "good cop/bad cop." Yes, Riddle is strict, but he's also so very baby, yknow? With his raging mommy issues, I imagine he's the type who would love to be coddled by his darling. Trey is that older brother type, so of course he knows when and how to put his foot down, but he's also so so so sweet and gentle. Riddle is definitely more likely to dole out punishments, though.

Cater -- he doesn't need to teamup to have the power of numbers on his side.

All 5 -- Riddle doesn't just watch over you, but also the others lol. He creates a schedule and rules for the members of this yandere team to follow so they can work as a well oiled machine to care for and share you. Ace is the most likely to see you even when its not his scheduled time. Deuce is a suck up who always tries to earn your favor, VERY easy to manipulate and get favors from. Trey is very sweet, but incredibly difficult to manipulate. Cater is a schemer who would probably plan an escape with you to keep you to himself. And as I already said, Riddle is the one who keeps everyone in check.

SAVANNACLAW

Ruggie and Leona -- again, a fairly obvious one. Ruggie already works under Leona for table scraps, of course he'll work with him for you. Leona acts top dog in the relationship, and gets first dibs with you, but what that really means is that any time you're not with Leona, Ruggie is making up for lost time. Like in the Heartslabyul team up, Riddle makes sure to schedule breaks/alone time for you. You don't get that here, you are always with one of them. Your "alone time" is when Leona sleeps.

All 3 -- basically just Leona and Ruggie throwing Jack a bone (heheh). In this one you can technically get some sort of alone time, cuz if you talk it over with Jack, he'd be willing to give up some of his time with you to make sure you can rest up.

OCTAVINELLE

Octotrio -- or as I prefer, the seafood polycule. I already did a whole separate post just talking about them lol, but you got twins and childhood besties and they're also business partners, like these boys know how to work together and share.

SCARABIA

HA fuckin unlikely. Even if Jamil does have the patience to share a darling with Kalim, I just -- like I'd feel too bad to write it. Like let him have this one thing, I am not going to make Jamil share his darling with Kalim, ESPECIALLY because darling would probably cozy up to Kalim more because delusional sunshine yanderes are the easiest to manipulate.

POMEFIORE

Rook and Vil -- these two barely even need to verbally communicate, when it comes to their darling they are on the same wavelength, which makes them a formidable team up. Like they got systems in place that just happen naturally, no need to discuss. For example, if you run away, Rook hunts you, Vil punishes you. They just work.

ALL 3 -- Vil lets Epel join in so long as he behaves. Epel would be the easiest to manipulate, but Vil keeps the both of you in check. Despite Epel's negative feelings towards Vil, Vil and Rook can turn Epel on you just as you turn Epel on them. Epel isn't completely stupid, if he finds out you're taking advantage of him, it will not be pretty or cute.

IGNIHYDE

Ortho would definitely platonically help out. You make his big brother so happy, and you make the perfect older sister for him!!

DIASOMNIA

Silver and Sebek -- calm n loud. Basically their relationship with Malleus but transferred into yanderes + darling.

A part of me can see Lilia teaming up with Silver but I don't like thinking about it for too long

All 4 -- The situation in the Diasomnia group is basically understood as you are with Malleus, but you are allowed to also see the other 3. Like the other three are side pieces. Malleus is sharing with his boys. You gotta share with your boys.

MIX N MATCH

The Freshies -- Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek -- freshies gotta look out for each other, right? And that's what they're doing. Looking out for you.

The Discord Mods -- Azul and Idia. If Idia were to team up with any one person, I think it'd be Azul. Like in Azul's lab wear vignette, Azul was the only one Idia felt comfortable enough to ask for help from. I can imagine them scheming together in their club teehee.

The Overblotters -- they all realized they share one thing in common... no, not overblot, you! They all share you! They swear that you are their cure, the only thing to keep them stable. So you kinda have to stay with them, for safety reasons.

The House Wardens -- it's the overblotters but switch out Jamil with Kalim. And it makes all the difference, having the sunshine boy involved, istg. The housewardens deserve something nice, right? That something being you ofc.

The vice house wardens -- including Ruggie. A lot of them are very tired and just want quiet darling time, and the ones that aren't tired make darling feel tired enough to be quiet for quiet darling time.

Leona and Rook -- Leona did not consent to this, but there's not much he can do. Especially since Rook is happy not only to do most of the physical labor involved in caring for a darling, but also to stand by as Leona gets Darling time. It's weird and uncomfortable for everyone involved.

The light music club -- they spend most of their club time talking about you tbh. Also please don't listen to closely to any lyrics of the songs they write...

Basketball boys -- imagine going to their practice to support Ace. Ace brags to them about how close he is with you. But then now when Floyd isn't in the mood to ball, he'll chat it up with you. One day Floyd just asks "you what if we took them." And then they do.

These are just the basics, but I'd be happy to go into more detail on a group/pairing if asked to!

[3liza]

saw someone talking about "scary dog privilege" on here today and cant find the post again but i guess it refers to when women are bothered less in public when accompanied by a large dog, and bypassing the quibble i have with calling that a privilege, i can absolutely 100% confirm it is true.

i was approached by a 30s-40s single white man wearing the Dipshit Uniform (guy in a baseball cap who looks like he drives an f-150 and has voting opinions i would not agree with) on the street the other day and all he had to talk about was Churchgrim. that he was VERY large, looked like a good boy, obedient, what breed is he, etc. this is the only interaction i get from men in public anymore unless i do not have the dog with me, at which point it goes back to the usual bullshit. however it has to be an actual scary-looking dog and you have to visibly have control of it. this is not why i got a large dog, it's just a side benefit. it probably has a lot to do with the masculine cultural coding of any large dog breed that isnt a poodle or a sight hound more than it does the actual violence potential of the dog, but those two things are related. notably, not a SINGLE man has tried to mansplain dog care or handling to me for five years. not one. i cant explain this because its not like being visible capable at a task or skill will stop them in any other circumstance, including when you are holding a literal firearm.

i remember reading some stupid op-ed from some idiot woman who got a dog "for protection" on her jogs and was baffled when men were not intimidated by her golden fucking retriever (although they should have been; goldens bite a lot, statistically, probably explicitly because people do not take them seriously)

the fact that men's body language and tone of voice has changed so drastically from before when i had a 90lbs black shepherd mix standing next to me is pretty damning tbh. all people both intentionally and unintentionally modulate their communication styles around that type of dog to display respect, interest, or fear, experienced dog people can be identified instantly by their comfort and confidence with the dog, and people with dog phobia are the opposite. the dog instinctively puts himself between me and approaching strangers, probably not out of a defensive instinct in grim's case but because strangers are interesting and he wants to be closer to the object of interest, but the physical barrier this creates is a great benefit to me.

specifically, men talk to me much much much more like they are speaking to another man when the dog is there. part of that is men are often genuinely interested in knowing information about a large dog of grim's type and are not using the dog as an excuse to flirt with or harass me. grim has a phenotype that is familiar to certain experiences within the united states as a "porch dog" or "yard dog" or "farm dog" that everyone who has lived in rural areas has usually known or owned a few notable examples of, and thats a general class of dog that tends to be good at listening and responding to humans and has a lot of opportunities to display intelligence or good judgment, so people with rural experience tend to associate him with good memories. he's also "handsome" in the dog sense because he got to keep his balls until he was 3, on the advice of his vet, and as a result he developed nice-looking musculature and a big thick neck which you dont get on city dogs much. he gets a lot of positive attention from older ladies as well, who you'd think would be afraid of being knocked over, but who are always just besotted with him for reasons i havent quite figured out yet. maybe they like seeing a youngish woman with a dog like this, i know that i feel good and happy when i see younger women and girls in situations where they seem safe or protected to me. i think to myself, "i don't have to worry about her" and i feel relief. observing young women and girls often triggers anxiety for women who are even just a few years older than they are, out of pure empathy. its one reason it's so important to be kind to younger people than you are.

anyway it's damning to the men because of course men don't think rationally that the dog would understand and be offended or angry if they sexually harassed or disrespected me. but they are still on their best behavior because the dog is an implicit threat that i can defend myself. and perhaps not only did they have nothing real to discuss with me before now because they assumed we had nothing in common and that i was an idiot or not human, but they are watching themselves carefully to only express normal human civility. i dont get that from random men without the dog. mostly (not entirely but mostly) i get either casual disrespect/disregard, or outright sexual harassment. when i was younger and less experienced with men and had fewer cycles of these interactions, i was completely unaware of how disrespectful these approaches or comments were, which is the interpretation i can see less-experienced women making now, even if they're my age. and when i was 20, my 30 year old friends seemed pathologically misandrist and defensive to me. it was purely the difference in our actual mileage. that sucks man. wish we could just be normal around people and not have to expect the worst constantly.

anyway, good dog

[granddaughterogg]

You Let Me Complicate You - Part 2

This is a love story about Simon "Ghost" Riley and you, starting with a random hookup and later navigating your increasingly complex feelings and desires towards each other.

PART 1 HERE

PART 3 HERE

~~Reblogs are always Greatly Appreciated!~~

SUMMARY: Ghost and you engage in some more flirting at the goth club. When he decides to get you acquainted with his favourite brand of bourbon, things get increasingly Physical - and unhinged, but you like it.

Chapter 2 - The Taste That Burns

He watched you like a hawk while you smacked your lips together, focusing on the metallic taste and tuning out everything else – the blue light, the music and the noises from the crowd. 

Focusing on the liquor, mixed with the taste of his skin.

"So. It's different from Jack Daniels..." you concluded after a while.

"For fuck's sake", he snorted. "I'm not seventeen anymore, y'know. This is the good stuff."

You licked your lips, trying to come up with a more sophisticated review, but to no avail. Perhaps that slug you'd downed earlier was stronger than you thought. Or perhaps it was this stranger's fault. He made your thoughts disorganised and blurry. He made your breath rush.

"You'll have to do it again so that I can form an opinion about this venerable beverage", you announced, boldly looking him in the eye. It takes two to do this dance.

The man sighed slowly, shaking his head.

"Do I have to feed you like a baby bird? 'Cause I will do just that if you make me."

"Knock yourself out," you offered, feeling a pleasant rise of adrenaline in your veins.

Suddenly one of his large hands found its way under your chin, capturing it in a gentle but steady grip. His thumb rested on your jaw. A few centimetres lower and he'd hold you by your throat.

You didn't have time to contemplate this stunning prospect, for he pressed the glass to your lips and tilted it – again, with caution, but you weren't ready for him to actually do it. Golden liquid filled your mouth and flooded your throat, burning it with its smoky sweetness. A bouquet of amber and balsamic scents exploded in your nose. You choked and the booze dribbled down your chin.

"Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy", said this madman, still not letting go. „Look at all the mess you've made.” 

His tone was as even as ever if laced with faint amusement. He leaned over your ear, and added in a husky whisper:

"You should've swallowed. We will have to work on that."

Hair all over your body stood on end – the ones that weren't already standing, that is.

"You dick!" you growled, pulling yourself out of his grip and shaking your head like a dog. "You could have drowned me!"

"Don't ask for somethin' you don't want, gorgeous...”

That was a tender word, yet he fixed you with a stare as distant and indifferent as a celestial body. There was no way to bridge that kind of distance. Neither on foot or in a spaceship. Many women probably died from lack of oxygen while trying.

"...because you might as well just get it."

"All right, all right." You started looking around for tissues. "Fetch me a napkin, will you?"

"What for?" He reached out, quick as an attacking snake and slipped his hand around your waist, pulling you so close that you almost slid off your stool, and placing his other hand at your nape. You felt his fingers weave into your hair, still damp from the rain. His grip was as skilled as it was assertive. Impossible to argue with. 

You inhaled the air suffused with that citrusy-woody perfume of his, the smell of fireworks and his own masculine musky scent. You liked it. You wanted to dip your nose into it.

"You're gonna kiss me now?" you whispered.

He shook his head. The pale rictus of the Grim Reaper has denied you.

"Not yet."

"Fucking tease," you spat into the black, unfeeling mask.

His eyes widened. You didn't know whether it was anger or excitement at your insolence. Either way, you quickly regretted your outburst, for he brought his face so close that you felt the rough cotton of his balaclava on your cheek. 

"You have quite a temper, love. Not gonna lie...this sort of feisty disposition is my favourite."

He whispered that right into your ear, enveloping you in the aroma of exquisite whisky. And there was that deadpan again. It drove you mad as much as the word "love" with its implied tenderness. You knew quite well that Brits call all women that - including those who they don't find fuckable in the slightest. When uttered by this Mancunian, „love” could mean anything or nothing.

His grip around your waist didn't loosen. He drew a circle around the small of your back, shooting electricity up your spine. Then he let go and pulled his mask upwards in a quick motion. You thought he'd get rid of it completely, but all he exposed was his pale chin and the very tip of his nose.

"I was about to ask how you plan on drinking in this thing..." you murmured.

"Just like that." 

He noticed you gawking and said in a firm tone: 

"Eyes averted, sweetheart." 

And since all you did was raise both eyebrows, he added gruffly: 

"No peekin'."

"Say, what do you even wear this thing for?" You asked, turning your head away, but very much intending to peek.

He shrugged as if asked the most inane question ever.

"To hide me face."

You glanced intently as he took a generous swig of his bourbon and threw his head back with a satisfied exhale. You've been expecting your typical Brit lip, as narrow as the slit in a mailbox. But his mouth was wide and quite shapely, with a sharp, pronounced Cupid's bow. It looked sensual yet ruthless. You could imagine a man with a mouth like that uttering a truly murderous putdown, unlike those playful jabs which he'd directed at you so far. If he wanted to, he could deal real damage. He could make people crumble, their self-esteem terminated on the spot. Or maybe it was just your inebriated imagination talking.

"What did I tell you about peekin'?", he grunted. Did he really expect you to obey this weird order...request...whatever it was?

"You knew that I will anyway", you said defiantly.

When he smirked, the corners of his mouth didn't go up like they were supposed to. They just stretched in both directions, creating a flat line. Interesting, you thought.

It was not a kind smile.

Before you could react, dodge out of his way, say anything – that bastard held at your face and licked the remnants of liquor right off your chin.

His tongue was searing hot and a little coarse, but not unpleasant.

This unexpected intimacy took your breath away and threw you off balance.

You stilled as if turned into stone, but with a hurricane howling inside your head, thoughts going circular at 200 miles per hour. That wetness on your chin burned like an executioner's mark, teasing and tickling at the same time. Deep within you blossomed a dark flame of excitement, licking your insides. Your starved body has been a stack of dynamite, and he just threw a lighted match.

He let you go and sat straight, looking awfully pleased with himself now that he'd put you in your place. Now that he has messed with you.

He's an animal all right, you thought. A beast that enjoys toying with its prey. An apex predator.

"As I was saying", he drawled, his mouth still curled up in dry amusement, his eyes boring into yours, keen and provocative, „This is the good stuff. I'd hate to see it go to waste.”

You remained silent, trying to reach within yourself, to quench that eager softness, blooming deep within your body. To find the familiar blade of cold, focused anger. You could've pushed his hand away, raise your voice and destroy this fucker. Tranquil fury has been your side weapon for so long. You could wield this power in your sleep.

Except that now it wasn't there.

How much of your inner confusion this kinky showoff even understood? Very much or very little - you would never know. His eyes glimmered in the dark, betraying nothing. He raised his glass.

You didn't have any better ideas, so you raised yours as well.

„Hey. Here's to fateful encounters”, he said.

"You say this to every poor gullible girl you've ever met in this shithole.”

His eyes flashed with amusement. 

"That I do, yeah", he admitted without an ounce of shame, taking a sip of the golden liquid and giving out a small, satisfied sigh.

"Does it work?" you asked.

"Without fail. They burst into a fit of happy giggles."

"Tough luck, handsome. I don't do stupid noises", you declared, measuring him with a disapproving glance. You might've as well tried to melt the glacier with a lighter.

"Looking forward to the noises that you make."

To that, you couldn't help but laugh. You rested your head on your palm. That absolute nerve of his was disarming. 

The giant guy took another sip from his glass, not breaking eye contact. You realised you don't even know if he's blond or dark-haired or something else entirely. His hair was hidden under that damn mask, and his eyebrows invisible in the murky light.

"Do you like your drink?" he inquired, leaning his long, muscular forearm against the concrete counter. You couldn't resist the temptation to watch the muscles ripple under the black cotton. The guy was covered up to his very neck. I wonder if he has any scars? 

You took another slow sip, tasting thoughtfully. Your palate was on fire from the artfully blended notes of caramel, orange, cinnamon and a few more flavours you hadn't previously associated with alcohol. More like with a patisserie.

"It's good!" you exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "What's it called?"

"Blanton's. It's my favourite. Tastes like Christmas, innit?"

"It does..." you admitted, relishing another sip.

"Not like the real Christmas though. Like the one they show on the telly", he mused.

"So generous of you to share your favourite flavours with a stranger.”

"Yeah, I'm Mr. Selfless, me." The corners of his eyes squinted in a smile. It was kinder than that rictus he had on his face while disregarding your bodily integrity earlier.

You were both quiet for a while, sipping the golden liquid in agreeable silence. Liquor coursed merrily through your veins, whispering that everything would be all right. Music swelled. Deafening bassline and metallic notes enveloped you like tentacles of smoke. You began to jerk your leg to the rhythm.

"Say", said the big guy, staring straight ahead. "Why don't blind guys skydive?"

You seriously pondered over the answer.

"Because their dogs would totally freak out?”

And then he laughed - it was a genuine guffaw, deep and rumbly. It made your skin prickle but in a good way. He threw his head backwards, showing you the curve of his wide neck. It was covered with soft black cotton of the mask, but you still noticed the outline of his Adam's apple.

"Well, fuck me sideways!” he chuckled.

"This could be arranged", you heard coming from your own lips. Was this the expensive (and you could tell that it was stupid expensive) whisky talking? Or just your own shameless yearning for this man? For his steady voice, his knowing touch, his admirable lack of fucks given and his large body, intriguingly shrouded by those drab clothes? A body which you'd love to know in great detail? 

Your own upper body was already leaning flirtatiously against the counter, drawing meaningless circles on the concrete with your free hand.

 "A woman after my own heart," he murmured, setting down his empty glass.

The bastard knew exactly what was going on with you, That stare of his mellowed, lids lowered in satisfaction. He was clearly a master at this game for two. Hell, he might've invented it.

Your whole being vibrated from desire and anticipation.

He pulled that cursed mask right over his face. Before you had time to realise it - you were looking at the wide, empty grin of the skeleton again. But now the man underneath it was also smiling.

His body language softened, too. It was as if he had shed an invisible armour. He turned towards you, one big hand resting on his thigh, clad in blue denim - the least gothic choice ever. He placed the other one right next to yours on the grey concrete counter. 

You watched as he captured your thumb between his own thumb and forefinger, stroking your skin. His digits were rough to the touch. Then again, you've never seen a man with such pale hands. Did this guy ever come out during daylight?

"I'm down for that”, he murmured, sidling up close. So close that he obscured the light, once again enveloping you in his unique blend of scents. You liked how he smelled, even if the most lucid areas of your brain were screaming that you should really pay attention to that firework note. It was important...for some reason.

„I'm down...But there's no need to rush, don't ya think? The night's still young and so are we."

He gave you the usual sweet talk, but those tired lines sounded compelling when uttered in his deep, guttural voice. You found it more and more difficult to keep your head on.

"Sure thing, stud," you said, smiling alluringly. You were giving him the eyes now, the low lidded come-hither look and it wasn't at all calculated. The wave has risen. He knew and you knew how this night would end. You both drifted in that knowledge, as sweet and intoxicating as the whiskey.

"Speaking of young. How old are you exactly?" you asked.

"Half past thirty, give or take."

"Ah." There was a small silence, and then you added, inebriated by his masculine scent and proximity: 

"Aren't you gonna ask me anything? My age? My name?"

He reached out and held at your chin. Amazing how gentle such a big guy with paws like shovels could be - if he wanted to.

"Do I need to know?"

"Well," you replied, a bit annoyed by this lack of interest, "I would like to know your name, at least. Or I'll just call you Skullface.”

You heard a muffled snort happening under the mask. His broad shoulders trembled with laughter.

"Skullface works fine for me. Look, love, how 'bout we go sit someplace cosier? Like away from those bloody lights?"

Said lights barely did their job, shrouding you both in a dim yellowish tint - but you got the idea. It would have been hard for you to get handsy on those damn stools. Not to mention the keen eye of the bartender, who passed you every now and then, dispensing various drinks to his customers.

"Yeah, let's", you agreed.

"Geoff, we'll take the bottle”, announced your companion. Once again you noticed this intriguing feat of his. He raised his gravelly voice just a notch, yet it cut through all the noise without effort. This man is used to speaking and to being obeyed, you thought.

And the frowning bartender must've been under his spell, too - for he materialized right before you, putting the requested bottle on the counter. There was a dainty brass figurine of a racehorse mounted on its cork.

"And water, please", you added.

"And water", the masked man repeated with a sigh. "For the lady."

He took both the booze and the flask of precious H20, assigned you the task of carrying both glasses, and the two of you wandered deeper into the dark bowels of the club.

He took point and you had nothing against it. First, you had the immense pleasure of watching him rise from the stool, and now your field of vision was mostly filled with his broad back. 

Holy fuck, he was a big one.

Not only tall - although the moment he stood up, you felt like a hobbit - but also broad in every sense of the word. Strapping, Herculean, thicc. His shoulder blades lived so far away from each other, they probably had to send letters. As he moved, his beefy arms swung away from the large torso. His waist was also wide, his ass pronounced and shapely, and his long legs as juicy as they come. It got increasingly more packed as you went, but Skullface would just plough through the crowd, parting it like Moses. Whoever didn't want to be stomped flat - scuttled the hell out of his way. Heads turned, and many mouths opened in awe.

You stepped comfortably in his wake, feeling like a tiny boat towed by an icebreaker. You knew that sooner or later you'd get him out of those jeans, and that thought was an impatient flame, licking at your synapses.

Finally, he reached a secluded corner just against the wall, but with a good view of the whole club and the dancefloor. There was a sofa upholstered in worn plush and a low table (lame - as you immediately find out by placing the glasses on it.) The music blared much louder than at the bar; you could feel the pulsating rhythm under your feet.

The masked one threw himself on the sofa with a grunt, head falling backwards and legs splayed in a perfect manspread. He poured himself another glass of bourbon and patted the space on his right.

"Come 'ere, love."

You complied, yet it somehow wasn't close enough, for he grabbed at your hip, pulling you closer. Not your thighs were pressing into each other, his fingers dug painfully into your flesh and you could hardly breathe.

„Hey. Are you dru- 

You weren't given the chance to finish this question, as the masked guy did four things almost at once. He pulled up the mask, emptied his glass, leaned over and kissed you, hard and messy.

You had to admit that he acted fast as lightning. You wouldn't have expected that from someone of such bulk. This thought - like all other thoughts – got banished to the back burner of your mind because your mouth suddenly lit up. Your throat was full of alcohol, burning you like fire. Somehow you swallowed this fiery wave (it sank into your stomach with the grace of a broken lift) and tried to free yourself, seized by understandable panic. You pressed both hands into his impressive pectoral muscles. Your fingers didn't even make a dent. You might've as well push a boulder.

You finally broke contact only because he allowed it.

"Are you drunk?!..." you gasped indignantly, pulling yourself away. Those damn eyes of his. So dark, so wide, unblinking.

"Yeah", he admitted, still not letting you go. "Get in my lap."

You straddled him, trying to prevent your stupidly short dress from riding all the way up and disclosing the colour of your panties. Results were mixed.

Now your bodies had way more contact than before; you put both hands on his wide shoulders, feeling the muscles of his thighs ripple under your own. His body burned you through the fabric. It felt like sitting atop a working oven.

"How many glasses did you have before we started talking?" You whispered, moving closer nonetheless. He was doing the same, tilting his masked head up so he could meet your gaze. Your bodies slowly converged, drawn together by one of the greatest force known in physics, namely: stupid drunk desire.

Skullface shrugged, and it was as if a mountain decided to rearrange itself.

"Don't know. Three? Four, maybe?.."

"You are off your tits", you stated with a resigned giggle. He lowered his head, meeting you halfway, his exposed, parted mouth tracing along your temple. His lips were still wet with liquor. You trembled.

"Gotta give it to you, big boy", you whispered into the soft fabric covering his neck. "It didn't even show."

"Never does." His voice was thicker than before. "Petal?"

Your head darted up at this old-fashioned term of endearment.

"Yeah?..."

"Kiss me."

You stilled, undecided whether you should remain in the arms of this inebriated madman or not.

Suddenly there was such yearning in his eyes. All the posturing, all those fuckboy strategies, practised to perfection - gone. All that remained was hunger, aching and hollow.

This desperation couldn't be about you, some woman he's just met at the bar. You felt as if tipping at some greater, darker mystery. One which you probably shouldn't drag into the limelight.

"Kiss me", he whispered hoarsely, looking at you from under heavy eyelids. "Please."

And kiss him you did. 

That was the last time when you had any illusions of control. 

His lips felt scorching hot. They were dry and chapped and tasted like alcohol, like tobacco smoke and like something essentially - him. It was a new flavour, as unique as human bodies are, and as heady as that whiskey that he's poured down your throat. Now you were both drunk and crazy.

His musky scent riding on the woodsy-citrusy notes filled your nostrils, while you could feel one of his large hands creep up the small of your back. The fingers of the other one were snaking their way through the hair at your nape. It was an ironclad hold. He locked you in so that you couldn't possibly slip away.

Not like you'd want to. 

He licked his way inside your mouth, claiming it with frantic abandon that made something feral twinge deep within you. It felt as if this hulking stranger's taste matched a blueprint buried deep within your DNA. As if every fibre of your being has lightened up in recognition, calling out: 

That's right. He's the one we want to fuck.

There was no finesse to what you two were doing; just clashing mouths and tongues entwining, as sloppy as they come. Sharing a moment of blind, uninhibited lust. You could hardly breathe under such onslaught of stimuli, yet you didn't let go, because it set your blood aflame. He didn't either.

At some point you rolled your hips and bit his lip, unable to contain yourself, and felt him buck under you. His hips met yours and you realized with a start how hard he had become inside those jeans. 

"Fuck, love. Too much", he chuckled breathlessly, pulling away – not very far, just so that you could both still breathe the same air, panting softly into each other's mouths. Your French twist has come partially undone, sleek tendrils of hair framing your face. He threaded his fingers through one of them. His eyelids were fluttering, those fathomless eyes now big and vulnerable and seeking yours.

"Don't do that. I can't..."

"Can't what, exactly?" You smirked impishly, pressed your whole ass to his swelling length and nipped at his lower lip once more. 

He slammed his eyes shut, exhaling furiously. Then he opened them again and shot you what you'd call a deathglare – if his chest wasn't heaving like a ship amidst a storm.

"Keep at it and I'm gonna raw you. Right. On this fuckin'. Couch", he hissed, his voice low, every word clearly enunciated, encased in grit and oh, so delicious. "In the middle of this fuckin' joint."

"They'll throw us both away", you giggled, hiding your hot face in the nook of his throat. "And the weather is shitty."

"Then stop biting me", he said, but didn't push you off his lap.

You stilled for a while after that. Distorted, metallic rhythms boomed all around you. The music felt like crusted blood on your tongue. 

You let him hold you in this unbreakable embrace, pressing your ear to his clavicles, still hidden from you by a layer of black cotton. His breathing slowed down and then went back to normal.

"You're pretty excitable for a guy in his mid-thirties", you quipped under your breath, splaying your fingers over the well-worn fabric of his hoodie. The pecs under it were delightfully wide and firm. You traced over a small, perky nipple. He sighed.

"I haven't touched a woman in two months", he said matter-of-factly.

"Huh?" You sat up, looking him straight in the face. "Where have you been, in the fucking desert?"

"Yeah." His eyes regained that closed-off expression from before. Once again you felt as if looking into a boundless cosmic void, and it was chilling.

"I'm sorry", you said, regretting that thoughtless jab. "It's really none of my business."

"It's not", he agreed. His stare didn't soften much, but he still wouldn't push you away.

A moment of silence passed between you. He reached to the rickety table and helped himself to another long swig of whiskey, while his other hand stayed entwined in the – increasingly loose – hair at your nape. His fingers moved absentmindedly, loosening it further. You didn't protest. It felt soothing. 

Suddenly the throbbing metallic rhytms which have surrounded you came to a halt. The dancing crowd has stopped as well; there were groans and even cries of protest. The DJ – a smallish, ratty-looking dude – didn't seem to care. He grabbed the mike and announced flatly:

"Ladies and gents, it's 10 P.M. Which means that it's time for some beloved classics. Enjoy the set."

"That sounded more like a fuck you than an invite", you giggled. But then the rhythmic crackle of automatic drums gushed from the speakers, followed by guitars, tuned in the most morose key possible. Your ears twitched at the familiar words of the song. The vocalist sounded like he was grappling with laryngitis.

In the heat of the night

In the heat of the day

When I close my eyes

When I look your way

When I meet the fear that lies inside

When I hear you say 

"Oh hell yeah. I love me some good old Sisters of Mercy! Come on, handsome," You asked, getting off his lap and leaning over him, grinning widely. "Dance with me!"

The patrons behind you adjusted to this change in music style. Some have already begun to sway like trees in the cemetery wind. Others were shifting from one leg to another, a little lost but determined not to miss out on the fun.

The masked one, however, did not share their commitment. The skull shook slowly from left to right.

"I don't dance, sweetheart."

"Oh, come oooon," you pleaded, placing both palms on his wide chest, trying to negotiate with those dark, implacable peepers. Were they actually black? Or something else entirely? The dim blue neon light didn't give you any answers.

"What's the worst thing that can happen? That you'll enjoy it?"

Andrew Eldritch was proclaiming melodic, mournful nonsense to the world, guitars were chiming and that damn man sat unmoving like an anchor. You knew there was no point in pulling him off the couch by force. Firstly, it wouldn't do any good. Secondly, your shoulders would pop out of their joints.

"I know what I don't enjoy." That was not a rebuff, more like an excuse.

He stroked your exposed forearm, then squeezed your hand in his strong grip. Those rough fingers of his were warm and pleasant to the touch.

"But you go dance."

"What?.." You weren't sure where this was going. And you sure as hell didn't like it.

"Have fun, love. I'll watch over you."

You stood up, smoothed up your dress (which has ridden obscenely high during your little makeout sesh) and sent him a salacious smile.

"You'll watch me dance?"

He stretched out on the sofa like a lord, spreading his arms on the backrest and balancing a glass of whisky in his fingers. He looked like the embodiment of dark debauchery. You really wanted to climb into his lap again, but you weren't a woman who easily went back on her word.

"I won't even blink," he assured you with this absolute certainty in his low voice. Chills ran down your spine.

"All right." You straightened your back, checked if that hairpin was still holding up (it was) and turned your back on him to say over your shoulder:

"Then watch me."

You sashayed to the dancefloor, swaying your hips extra hard. The goths were awfully accommodating - they let you into the fold.

You found yourself surrounded by a writhing mass of people, moving along with the hard-hitting rhythm. There were elated faces all around and arms flailing in the dark, punctured by rays of dim blue light. It took away all semblance of reality, making all those faces disembodied. You felt as if immersed in a neon aquarium. Encased in your very own vision, a music video for one.

For he kept his word. He was truly watching.

You undulated under the blue reflectors, making sure that your dance moves were giving more "ethereal seductress" than "a teenager on crack" which was your default. But after some time you lost yourself in the music and stopped caring so much about how you look. Your body was doing its thing, gracefully coiling into figures you'd never be able to recreate on purpose, and your mind focused entirely on him.

Even when you closed your eyes, you could feel his stare, as inscrutable as it was unwavering. There was some gravitational pull to this man , as if he'd been highlighted by a black aura. The opposite of a limelight.

After "Dominion" they played a Marilyn Manson song (apparently the term "classics" was being applied very broadly), then "Dragula" by Rob Zombie - and suddenly it got way, way more crowded. A breathless, happy crowd began to push against you from all sides.

You swayed your arms, shook your hips and stomped your feet like nobody's business, trying your best not to thwack anyone in the kisser. Some nondescript dude sauntered close to you and started dancing obnoxiously near. Probably thought that he was being seductive. You ignored his ass, but he stuck to you like dandruff.

The fray got so thick that you lost sight of Skullface. Dancers blocked your view.

The stranger leaned in closer still. His hair was so long that it hit you in the face, and his eyes had this glassy expression which gave you chills. Drunk? Drugged and off his rocker? You didn't want any of it and tried to manoeuvre as close to the edge of the fray as possible. Then this fucker put his hand on your ass. You jumped, trying to shake it off - to no avail.

Hot, sticky words fell from his mouth, but to you, those were just sounds without a meaning. "Dragula" sleekly transitioned into "This Corrosion” and the patrons screeched in uniformed delight. The dancefloor had been packed before, but now you felt as if trying to do dance moves on your morning commute. A mass of sweaty bodies pressed onto you from every angle, and that long-haired creep kept pawing at your rear, face contorted into an empty, maniacal grin. Where the fuck was Skullface when you needed him? You've had just enough of this nonsense.

You stopped dead in the middle of the song, turned around with such momentum that the surprised assailant let go of your ass - and delivered a sweeping kick to his shin.

OK, maybe it was supposed to be sweeping. Truth be told, you didn't have much space for fancy martial arts. But thanks to your trusted combat boots it probably hurt.

The creepo staggered backwards and seized you with a furious look.

"You dirty slut!" he squealed.

You didn't wait to hear what the scorned suitor had to say next. You pushed past the crowd and ran off the dancefloor, staggering and panting heavily.

The sofa against the wall was empty.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Where did loverboy go?

Seriously. Where did he go?

--to be continued--

[scientificwitchry]

My Thoughts on Caleb's Biblical Symbolism

______________________________________________________________

This is going to be long-winded and essentially a rant (so don't expect me to make sense). Also probably not accurate as these are simply MY thoughts based on the little info we know from the events of the game along with Caleb's trailer(s) and the teasers/showcases of his cards posted. As well as his commissioned art. Also, spoilers if you haven't read Chapter 4 of the game yet.

______________________________________________________________

I've seen many people talk about things such as the cultural significance of Caleb's dynamic with MC and trope and character but I haven't seen a lot about his biblical symbolism.

Of course, as anyone who cares can tell, Caleb is an obvious reference to the story of Adam and Eve.

In the story of Adam and Eve, the first humans created by God lived in the Garden of Eden, basically a utopia absence of violence, and most importantly for this analysis; sin. They are allowed to eat from any fruits in the garden save for those from the Tree of Knowledge. Despite knowing this, Eve, having been tempted by the serpent does so after being implored to do so to attain the knowledge of both good and evil. Not only does she eat from the tree she gets her lover, Adam to do so as well.

As a result, Eve is punished to experience the pains of childbirth and to desire her husband but be ruled over by him and Adam to be cursed with the death of labor before both are promptly cast out of the Garden of Eden.

This probably isn't the exact story, but it's the story I grew up knowing of.

One thing I can't help but notice is that in Caleb's first official commission art (art that devs commission from artists) is that in the art Caleb is holding out an apple presumably for the MC to eat as a snake is coiled around his hand while both of them are surrounded by greenery.

Though, the story of Adam and Eve actually never describes the fruits as being an apple, It doesn't describe it all in fact. For all we know it could've been a durian. But the common assumption is that the fruit Eve ate was an apple. That paired with the setting, the snake, MC leaning in as if to take a bite makes it pretty obvious that he's supposed to reference the story of Adam and Eve paired with the apple we see on his dog tag, even his profile picture, then in his trailers and even in the teaser for Farspace Deprivation they mention sin which I'll come back to later.

The first thought I had was that Caleb was the serpent which tempted Eve (us/mc). And it would fit him well considering that in both his trailer and the teasers for his card he feels so manipulative? This is especially the case with his Farspace Bloomfall.

Like there is no way you can look at this and not think he's manipulating the fuck out of us. But even with that, I believe that rather than him representing the serpent which deceives Eve (mc), I am of the opinion he represents Eve who eats from the tree of knowledge.

A part of it also has to do with his second and most recent commission art.

One thing I noticed about this piece was that he and MC seem to be in the sky, supposedly falling. It could (and probably is) a reach but it reminds me of when Adam and Eve are cast out from the Garden of Eden by God. Considering how this is a lot more grim (?) compared to the first commissioned art, the same way Caleb's official appearance as a love interest is a lot darker than his first appearance as a character.

To me, even though there's a high possibility that it is, I don't consider the tone shift in his commissioned art a coincidence at all. This and his re-appearance as a love interest show Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden of Eden. Caleb and the MCs life together before the explosion was their eden. an idyllic utopia absent of sin. Whatever it was that led up to that explosion was Caleb eating from the Tree of Knowledge. The serpent in the bible convinces Eve that eating from the Tree of Knowledge would give her knowledge of both good and evil, making her like God. I believe whatever knowledge Caleb now knows is the evil that has completely traumatized him.

Another reason why I believe that Caleb represents Eve requires us to go back to his card; Farspace Deprivation.

MC calls him a sinner and not only does he admit to being a sinner (carrying sin) but asks us to carry it as well. Eve is often interpreted as having beguiled Adam into sinning with her (eating from the Tree of Knowledge). However, there is no mention (to my memory) of it in the bible. But when God confronts Adam he blames Eve and Eve then blames the serpent which is probably where the interpretation comes from.

And while it may seem like a stretch, I wholeheartedly believe that the last sentence is his way of beguiling us. I don't think it's in the sense he's completely faking referenced loneliness. It is my belief that all the emotions we see Caleb express are real but he recognizes the fact that we are weak to them and leans into that to appeal to us and by god does it work.

But putting this aside, my main point in going back to analyze the lines in Farspace Deprivation is that I not only believe that this exchange cements the idea that Caleb is meant to represent Eve and us Adam but like in the story the two of us carry a shared sin and like Adam and Eve we will also carry a punishment (not like the ones in the bible obviously). Or maybe we already have and MC has just been yet to realize. Maybe we had already bitten into the fruit of knowledge without having even realized it and are being punished for it.

Additionally, I'd like to add that Adam and Eve sinning is also what granted (imo at least) humans free will. The same way in which Caleb doing so (according to my longwinded and olympian levels of stretching theory) granted him freedom. in the "Homecoming Wings" video he says he held himself back and endured day after day, then describes it as being suffocating. To me, this is referencing his feelings for us. He held himself back from exposing his true feelings to us to maintain our Garden of Eden, but by abandoning that world he's freed himself from playing the role of our gege.

Now it's a matter of whether the freedom of sinning outweighs the punishment that follows. What if Eve never gave into the serpent? What if she and Adam continued to live idyllicly in that utopia? What if that explosion never happened? What if Caleb continued to be by our side, in our memories as our gege and not Caleb? What if humans never experienced suffering, pain, grief, and death? We will never know for humans will never be sinless and Caleb and MC will never know for they are forever sinners.

Art's Source: https://x.com/chimmyming

[day-dr3aming]

Basic info:

Nicknames: Eudie (Close friends), Dame Capricieuse (Rook), Sea bunny (Floyd), Herbivore (Leona), Child of Man (Malleus)

Class: Whatever she want (usually 1-A)

Dorm: Ramshackle (Vice-Housewarden)

Birthday: March 16th

Age: 21-22 years old

Height: 1,70 m

Dominant hand: Left

Club: Pop Music club

Hobbies: Origami and drawing

Best subject: Alchemy

Homeland: London, England

Pet peevies: Cheats

Favorite food: Hot dog

Least favorite food: Cheese

Talent: Plan

Family: Father, mother, Rayven (younger sibling), grand parents, uncles and cousins

Background:

Eudora During her childhood, Eudora always tried to keep her sibling and cousins out of trouble, but she usually ended up joining them in causing mischief. Since she was 12, she helped her parents run the bookstore and her sibling, Rayven. Unlike her sibling, she never believed in fairy tales and magic, although she enjoyed listening to her sibling tell stories and enter into their fantasy. When she went to university, she had to move to another city, she ended up focusing a lot on her studies and kind of neglecting her free time, only spending time with her family at meetings and birthdays.

After Rayven disappeared, she was devastated. It was a huge shock for her to hear on the phone that her sibling had suddenly disappeared. One day, when she was observing the sky on the college coverage, she saw a pair of stars that shone brighter than the others, then she remembered the stories Ray liked to tell her when they were children. Even though she thought it was stupid of her, she wished to the stars that she could know where her brother was and then went to his dorm to sleep. When she woke up, she had ended up in another world.

Personality:

Generally seen as a cold and reserved person, Eudora is not one to show much empathy with the NRC boys because she knows how much mean they can be. Because of their severe and serious side, many find them scary and try to stay away from them. She tries very hard to be patient and stay calm, but she can end up exploding depending on the situation.

She is also very proud and confident of herself, and because of her impulsiveness and stubbornness, it is very difficult for her to change her mind or opinion, which can lead to frustration when things don't go the way she wants. In her group of friends, she is the one in charge of the group. She always warns when something is going to go wrong and if they insist and it goes wrong anyway, she would be the type of person to say "I told you so."

Despite being very severe, Eudora has a loving and kind side that she only shows to those she cares about. With these people, she shows herself to be more supportive and demonstrates that she is a good listener, sometimes giving some advice, and even lends them some of her belongings if they need them. She also surprisingly has a great sense of humor, thus tolerating the freshmen's antics and even doing with them.

Trivias:

She is the Twisted version of Yen Sid from the movie Fantasia

Her name, Eudora, is of Greek origin, meaning fortunate gift, being the name of one of the nymphs of Greek mythology

Her full name is Eudora Ludwig Vasconcelos

She is terrible at cooking, being the only things she can prepare are sandwiches

After arriving in Twisted Wonderland, she began sharing the tasks Crowley gave her with Rayven.

She went to Twisted Wonderland after the Savanaclaw chapter.

She was studying medicine before going to Twisted Wonderland

She is allergic to cats, but Grim's fur doesn't affects her allergy

She is afraid of mice

Shr has Brazilian ancestry on her mother's side

Galeria:

Divider by: cafekitsune

[bones4thecats]

Twisted Wonderland Incorrect Quotes

Sebek Zigvolt: Didn't you die?! MC: That was weeks ago, dude. Things change. Riddle Rosehearts: When I first met you, I thought you were weird and annoying. Ace Trappola: And? Riddle Rosehearts: And you are. Floyd Leech: Start talking! Random Octavinelle Student: Well, I- Floyd Leech: Shut up!

Kalim Al-Asim: That sounds super! Doesn’t that sound super, Jamil? Jamil Viper: No. Kalim Al-Asim: I think I speak for Jamil when I say it sounds really super. Grim: I got grounded for a whole week just because I came home late. Leona Kingscholar: Well, you deserved it. I mean, getting everyone's hopes up like that and then showing up again. Vil Schoenheit: OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT?! TIME OUT! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! GET UP THERE! Epel Felmeir: *Climbing* THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!! Azul Ashengrotto: Your Honor, I hereby submit the following to the court: Azul Ashengrotto: Floyd, what the actual FUCK? Malleus Draconia: Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff. Leona Kingscholar: YOU PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS! Ortho Shroud: I don't follow the rules. I follow dogs on social media. Cop: You ran a red light. Cater Diamond: So did you, hypocrite. Cop: I was following you. Cater Diamond: That was dumb, I'm a terrible driver. Cop: Get out. Idia Shroud: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul. Lilia Vanrouge: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'little shit’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’. Vil Schoenheit: Would I rather be feared or loved? Easy. Both. I want people to fear how much they love me. Eliza: Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me. Trey Clover: I'm usually that person who has no idea what's going on. Jade Leech: I’ve come to a point in my life where I need a stronger word than fuck. Jack Howl: Do you think different paints have different tastes? Ruggie Bucchi: They do. Jack Howl: ...Why did you say that with such certainty? Divus Crewel: In your opinion, what is the height of stupidity? Literally Anyone, turning to Ace Trappola: How tall are you? Epel Felmier: Housewarden, I’m afraid. Vil Schoenheit: Just stay close to Rook. Epel Felmier: That's why I’m afraid. Rook Hunt, at the slightest provocation: I came into this earth screaming and covered in someone else's blood and and I'm not afraid to leave the same way. Sam: Good morning. Mozus Trein: Good morning. Divus Crewel: Good morning. Dire Crowley: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit. Ashton Vargas: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS! Mozus Trein: Where’s Crowley? Sam: Doing stuff. Mozus Trein: I don’t like the sound of that. Where’s Crewel? Sam: Trying to stop Crowley from doing the stuff. Mozus Trein: And Vargas? Sam: Trying to stop Crewel from stopping Crowley from doing the stuff. Mozus Trein: I see. And what are you doing here, Sam? Sam: I’m supposed to stop you from stopping Vargas from stopping Crewel from stopping Crowley from doing the stuff.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

@gynophobiaharrypotter

I headcanon that animagus forms take the shape of what is needed, not what your soul is or whatever.

The Marauders became animagi to hold at bay a werewolf, how often is a dog big enough to do that, even with help? Literally what about James Potter is cervine?

To blatantly promote my rabbit/hare Harry Potter idea, he would use the form to hide and spy, since everyone knows his human face. And he deserves something cute. He's been through enough.

Personally, I always thought of an Animagus form as representing who you are, I mean, otherwise, Pettigrew being a rat doesn't really make sense. I mean, he too had to keep a werewolf at bay, and yet, he's a rat. A form that hints at his cowardly and traitorous nature. In Sirius' case I personally always headcanoned his Animagus form is a Grim, not just any dog, which would associate him with death (like James' stag) along with bravery and loyalty (dog) and with his family that lives in Grimmauld Place. But I digress.

You can headcanon whatever you like and write whatever you like, of course, I just don't see it that way.

As for a rabbit/hare Harry Animagus, I personally don't see it. I mean, Harry deserves everything, don't get me wrong, but I don't think an animal that sometimes represents cowardice would represent either him or what he needs, in my opinion. Rabbits can symbolize cleverness, rebirth, and luck which does fit Harry, but then they also symbolize fertility and sensuality, which isn't very Harry (or something Harry needs). I also think Harry wouldn't want to appear weak or cute, it won't really serve his desires which is, yes to be normal and disappear, but also to be respected and taken seriously. I mean, for all of Harry wanting to be normal, he never acts like it. He takes on the responsibility of adults, of a protector of others even when he doesn't have to. So if his form is dictated by what he needs, his form should allow him to blend in the background, yes, but would also allow him to attack and defend himself and others. I think it's also just a personal preference for me as I don't think Harry has the vibe of a rabbit/hare.

I mentioned here why when I try to think about Harry's Animagus form I settle on a raven (I think Harry deserves to fly, and a raven is the bird that suits him most). But I can see him with other Animagus forms.

Again, to each their own headcanon, but I don't really see it.

[i-am-grell]

What Anime Should I Watch?: Oops, all new (to me) long series

I'm planning to finish up Bungo Stray Dogs tomorrow, so it's time to get another poll started. And since TikTok commenters have started lightheartedly bullying for what I haven't watched yet, we're doing a very specific themed poll. If you're new here, it's what it says on the tin: Tumblr votes for my anime watch schedule.

As always, propaganda* (*and section I will watch) below the poll. You can reblog to make your followers vote for your choice or preach in the tags because I'm sure people have strong opinions about these options and the fact that I've not watched a single episode of any of them (don't bully me; be better than the TikTokers). You do not have to know me, follow me, like me, or like anime to vote.

Propaganda:

Pre-Propaganda Note: I've restricted this poll to new series for a few reasons. 1) people on TikTok keep bullying me because I haven't started One Piece or Naruto. 2) If I start a new series, that's another recurring "continue" option for future polls (if you hadn't noticed, I'm recycling the same, like, 7 things I have to finish; I want more variety). 3) This is the Fairy Tail webbed site; if it was all of my long series options then I don't even have to run a fucking poll because I know you gremlins (I do love Fairy Tail tho; maybe next poll?).

Naruto - I know the basics about Naruto, but I have never seen an episode of Naruto. This option will count for season 1 of Naruto.

One Piece - The things I know about One Piece are: pirates, like a handful of the characters, 1100+ episodes long. This option will count for the East Blue arc (season 1) of One Piece (which is somehow 61 f*cking episodes).

Sailor Moon - Probably the most shocking: I have not seen a single Sailor Moon episode. My excuse is being born in 1998 and thus not even a concept while it aired. This option will count for season 1 of Sailor Moon.

Bleach - The above isn't a lie, I deadass didn't know the premise of this show until a little while ago and it seems similar to 90% of all other grim reaper-focused anime so we'll see if it's worth 366 episodes. This option will count for seasons 1 and 2 of Bleach to make the length somewhat more comparable to the other options above.

[raineandsky]

#47

The agency is a place of horror, in the villain’s opinion—pristine white walls, blaring overhead lights, perfectly symmetrical tiled flooring. The place is, quite frankly, a minimalist nightmare.

So it’s a shame that the villain has to sit here, bored out of their mind, in the place they hate the most, with the person they hate the most.

“Oh, no, turn back the way you were facing.” The hero gestures slightly behind them with the tip of their pencil. A clipboard sits in their lap, well-loved and coated in pen marks. “The angle’s off.”

“I don’t know why you couldn’t just take a two second photo like everyone else,” the villain mutters with a scowl, adjusting uncomfortably in their cuffs, and the hero laughs like they’re joking.

“Because crime in the city is at an all-time-low and I’m bored.” The hero points a bit more violently with their pencil. “Now turn.”

They’re not allowed any goddamn dignity in this place, so they admit defeat and shift over slightly. The hero nods approvingly when they do, finally turning their gaze back down to paper in their hand, and the pair fall into silence. 

“You know I’m gonna be busting out, right?” the villain says after a moment. The quiet was nice until they figured out that the weird screeching noise downstairs was human voices. “I don’t really see the point in me being here.”

The hero hums in lazy acknowledgement. “I know, but catching you gives me something to do.” The pencil scratches down the page in waves, their eyes still resting on their masterpiece. “And you make for a good muse.”

Thank god their drawing is so interesting, or the hero would see the light blush staining the villain’s face. “I know I do,” they say in a vain attempt to save their quickly plummeting dignity. “I’m hot shit, everyone knows that.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty conventionally attractive. Makes for some good lines in a study.”

Why did they have to phrase it like that? “You can admit I’m hot, it’s okay. Everyone else does.”

“Everyone else lets visual aesthetic blind them to their sense of morality, but I don’t.” The hero’s gaze finally flits back up to them, the ghost of a smirk on their face. “You’re conventionally attractive. Take it or leave it.”

The villain scowls. “I’m going to pretend that’s a compliment.”

“It is in heroic terms.” The hero turns their clipboard around to show the criminal their drawing. “What do you think? Looks like you, right?”

The hero’s a damn good artist. It’s amazing. “It’s shit.”

Their answer only gets another laugh as the clipboard gets discarded on the desk. The hero gets to their feet with a stretch, motioning for the villain to do the same. “Let's get you to your cell so I can go on my lunch.”

The villain’s henchmen are probably nearby. A few minutes in a cell are nothing. “I hope your lunch tastes like dirt.”

The cell is just as grim as the villain remembers. The hero shoves them inside mercilessly, clunking the door shut behind them.

“Looking forward to chasing you down on your way out,” the hero says innocently. They glance down at their watch as it beeps rhythmically at them. “And for the record, I do think you’re hot.”

The villain makes a face somewhere between disbelief and flattered. “I thought you said I—”

“I’m on my lunch break.” They hold their watch up, reading exactly 13:00. “I can say what I want when I’m not on company time.”

“You follow the stupidest sets of rules like a dog,” the villain spits as the hero turns on their heel. “You have to admit you’re a little pathetic.”

“Your guys don’t usually take long to get here, right?” They’re already at the door, loitering on the threshold. “I’ll see you in, what, half an hour?”

“Fuck you.”

The hero laughs again. “You wish. Take the drawing on your way out, yeah?”

The villain very much intends to. They deserve it for the time out of their day, at least.

[backhurtyy]

Spiderdads is really funny if you treat how they view it as too completely different genres.

Miguel is in a grim dark sci-fi novel with a really persistent side character. He's got brooding. He's got trauma. He's got angst. He's... now holding his co-worker's baby as the aforementioned coworker is showing him photos of Mayday petting a massive dog and comparing it to him.

Meanwhile, Peter's wondering why the first arc in his office rom-com is taking so long. He's going to put Peter out of burger money if he continues being so dense. The entire office has given Peter their opinion on the duo's tension (partially because Peters are inherently chatty about drama so long as its not their drama)

Jess is suffering.

i have absolutely nothing to add. this is perfect. you get it.

[3liza]

just bloggin

grim needs more actual training but his current level of grocery store-going is pretty good. if a perfect service dog is 100% grim is about a 70% on average. he wears an "in training" patch and does not go places that are not either pet dog friendly or where he will not be in the way.

there was a very enthusiastic and very loud little child at the store last night who got excited about a doggie and he didn't engage with her at all. also I explained in a friendly way that he was a working doggie so he couldn't play right now but maybe we could play next time! and then she launched into her plans for acquiring a "pink dog" which I encouraged and said "if you work hard to learn a lot about doggies maybe you can have one when you grow up!" and her mom said "well probably not pink" which is fair enough and I wasn't going to interrupt a working mom at midnight in a grocery store to "well actually " her about the wide world of nontoxic dog dyes available but someday that little girl can have her pink dog if she really wants it and I think that's nice. she also asked me about my mask and I said "I don't want to get sick!" but then thought maybe this would cause some anxiety so I quickly added "it's because I'm sort of special so I need extra protection!"

I have my own opinions about going to a grocery store without a mask while pregnant and bringing your small child but I don't know her life so hopefully that left enough of a free space that her mom can explain that special people get sick easily and need extra protection but that she does not have to worry about it. you have to be careful what you say to children because their brains are working overtime like people with clinical OCD and anxiety to find loopholes and similarities and potential danger and it's very easy for a throwaway comment from a stranger to turn into a fixation.

notably even a 6 year old child did not have trouble understanding my speaking in the middle of a semi-loud grocery store so I think every adult who doesn't have any issue understanding me until they can see I'm wearing a mask is trying to make some sort of point about it

[liviavanrouge]

Twst tribe AU

I've been lamenting on this idea for like A WEEK now and after talking with @anxious-twisted-vampire I decided to finally do a post since I got more encouraged because they liked it!

Basically the tribe AU are where the twst boys are placed into different tribes around the school, they're all different species depending on what dorm they're in!

Heartslabyul are Oni's because some have raging tempers, and I thought it would fit for them because Oni's are also pretty strong!

Savannaclaw are Guardian Deities like Thunder Dogs and all those other things, they're the ones who patrol the halls of school after curfew and they're the only dorm with that permission!

Octavinelle are Water Nymphs! Watch out cause they're sneaky and won't hesitate to trick you, some of the nymphs take on sea animal like forms in the water

Scarabia are Medusa, Chimera and sometimes Dark Watchers, they're very sneaky and cunning, some are also quite strong so be careful and don't make them hold a grudge against you!

Pomefiore are Dame Blanche and Aguane's, they pride themselves with their beauty and dance, so be careful not to ruin their looks or moves or you'll end up on their bad sides!

Ignihyde are all Grim Reapers preferring to stay away from other tribes and their residents. They will snatch your soul for a day if you decide to anger them or sometimes they'll be petty and keep it for half the school year

Diasomnia are Tengu and Kitsunes but there is a dragon and vampires among them with a small someone being the only half vampire among them all the students

Ramshacke residents are travelers that visit each of the tribes and add onto the lore about them even correcting certain mistakes that must've been made.

The professors are also different species, but I haven't decided who's to be who yet!

-

Anyway! Now it's time for the Special Guest Species!

A clan of blood draining monsters. She’s an nekomata who happens to be a beast master, a rare ability that she inherited from her mother. It's Minako!!

Pierre is an satry maenad hybrid. His unique birth made him quite an outcast to the Satyrs so he spend his own time alone with making pipes!

Florence is from the dragon clan, a clan that is mortal enemies to diasmonia. As a result she will despise anyone from the tribe!

Griselda is a demon who feasts on any negative emotions. She is a vagabond!

Victor is an lich which is a monster that is very infamous among the tribes!

Akane is a powerful yet evil kitsune who is not even from diasmonia tribe. No one knows who she is!

The amazing and beautiful Alaida is a cherubim! The best kind of angels to ever exist in my opinion!

If you wanna know more gotta ask my girl @anxious-twisted-vampire

~~~

Each tribe still uses the dorms original name so There's the Savannaclaw Tribe, The Heartslabyul Tribe, The Pomefiore tribe and ETC

I am so ready to bring this AU to LIFE!! It's by far my favorite of them all!!

@writing-heiress @yukii0nna