grimowled

[grimowled]

; psa - I haven't been very active anyway, just lurking lately ... but I will be travelling until Aug 15th, so will be mobile only during that time. you can still chat with me on disco, or IMs. on my return, since things have been settling, I will make a comeback, beginning from my best angel @archmight

[grimowled]

; psa - I haven't been very active anyway, just lurking lately ... but I will be travelling until Aug 15th, so will be mobile only during that time. you can still chat with me on disco, or IMs. on my return, since things have been settling, I will make a comeback, beginning from my best angel @archmight

[grimowled]

ooc; been doing my taxes. that's the personal hell I'm in.

[grimowled]

ooc; I'm here for the evening yes fuckin' finally

[grimowled]

Source

[grimowled]

CATCHING: for receiver to catch sender staring at them.

☽ you look best on my altar - accepting.

THE MIRROR CAUGHT IT FIRST,

a flicker - not of motion, but of intent - slithering across the polished silver like a crack beneath the surface; stolas did not turn at once, no - he allowed the moment to steep: he let the weight of andrealphus' gaze soak into the back of his neck like spilt wine into velvet.

"WATCHING, are we?"

when he finally moved, it was not abruptly - a slow, owl-like incline of the head, the rustle of silks like wings unfurling; four eyes blinked out of rhythm, then refocused with the eerie synchronicity of a predator.

"is there a particular angle you favour, my dear terror-in-law?"

he crooned, mellifluous voice dipped in menace, every syllable a caress laced with claws. he turned fully now, tall and dreadful, shadow-crowned and haloed in an opulent GLOOM that smelled faintly of rotting flowers. his dark feathers shimmered in unnatural hues - not colour, but suggestion, hints of bruised twilight and the cold underbelly of dying stars. stolas closed the distance, talons clicking softly, robes trailing like spilled ink across the polished stone floor; the tension that bloomed between them was barbed, expectant. "you look as though you've seen something you'd quite like to BITE into."

a pause, drawn out just long enough to unnerve.

"were you admiring me? or fantasising on how best to wear my feathers?"

he was closer now, a silhouette of plumage and POISON, trailing scent and shadow, wearing his beauty like a curse that begged to be released.

(surely you remember what happens to creatures who covet what they cannot CAGE?)

and just as quickly, he withdrew - head held high, gaze unreadable, cruel serenity carved into his every movement; he offered no open scorn, only a knowing smile.

--the kind that peeled back too many layers of civility, and that made mirrors flinch.

[grimowled]

🙂

☽the com-mun-nication meme - accepting!

🙂 How are you, mun?

thank you for checking in, that's so sweet of you! horny TIRED! mentally drained after a long work week but it's friday and i'm about to flop on the dash and relax on my blogs, so looking forward to a good time hehe! hopefully I can chip at my 150 drafts and 97 asks LMAO help

[grimowled]

[grimowled]

Does Stolas ever display any [nesting] behavior?~

ON NESTING - A DARK AVIARY OF EVIL

my stolas engages in a decadent form of eldritch nesting behaviour, and it manifests as something far more unsettlingly opulent, possessive, and ritualistic. of course his nest is not made of straw and twigs, but a palace that is basically a temple to himself - more on his decor style in this previous hc post.

what stolas does is build shrines to his obsessions - rooms that pulse with primal mood, scent, and implication; yet, beneath the velvet drapery and glamour, his behaviour is distinctly AVIAN.

FLUFFING he rearranges pillows and blankets and trinkets and tapestries with an almost compulsive precision - only to undo and redo it all seconds later; and if something feels off, he will often tilt his head sharply, eyes narrowing, clicking his beak in dissatisfaction. the rustling of feathers will be heard before he is in sight - he paces, like a great owl preparing to roost. this type of nesting is not so much about comfort, as it is about CONTROL.

HOARDING / COLLECTING additionally to his richly curated style, he likes to surround himself with all kinds of plants, especially rare and exotic, and odd relics and trinkets; and oh, mirrors. he likes to keep trophies of his obsessions; ie. a piece of jewellery, a letter, lock of hair, whisker, feather, scale, bones ... heart, you name it; personal artefacts of those has pursued, is pursuing, or intends to pursue. he does not collect out of sentiment alone, but out of a need to BIND - to keep their essence close. like a ritual. he may call them memories, but in truth, it's possession. which brings me to my next behaviour --

NESTING AROUND OTHERS --is possession disguised as care: if he has grown particularly fond of someone - octavia, blitzø, a lovely alternate version of himself, or even a charge or an employee - his behaviour becomes intensely focused, as we already know, toward those he desires and/or claims; with blitzø, for example, it's not unusual for stolas to redecorate entire wings of his estate in anticipation of a visit, from the colour of his own robes or bedsheets to match the imp's trademark black and red, down to the wine chosen to match his mood. when he becomes attached, his space becomes curated around the subject of his obsession interest (on the surface it is to make them feel welcome, but in reality, to claim them). he surrounds their sleeping space with protective glyphs and his own feathers, and watches them breathe and sleep for hours on end. he places them at the centre, building his domain like a black hole slowly folding around a sun it means to swallow. it's part instinct, part MADNESS.

DISPLAY when especially pleased with his preparations to welcome his acquisition, he may click his beak rapidly, puff his feathers theatrically, and then he will chirr in low, hypnotic tones that lull the senses and entice them deeper into his nest as his shadows wrap around them and follow. and when someone dares disturb his perfect little ROOST? he screeches; not loudly - but with a low, primal hiss that reverberates through the shadows, feathers bristling, eyes unblinking; that's when you know you're in deadly danger.

[grimowled]

[grimowled]

Artist

[grimowled]

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖑,

ʟᴀsᴛ ᴛᴏ ғᴀʟʟ

＊ ind., selective and low activity archangel MICHAEL , prince of the heavenly host sideblog, follows from grimowled scriptured by grimm

☩ 𝖉𝖔��𝖒𝖆 | 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘 ☩

[grimowled]

What are mun's thoughts on smut?

who, us? oh. we don't ... mind it...

HAHAHA WE LOVE SMUT. give us all the smut. we adore writing it. we can't get enough, and can't wait to, uh, GUSH IT ALL OVER THE DASH ... under a read more, obviously! :3 - we are proud monster fuckers in this house. the weirder (make it nightmarishly eldritch, sinfully demonic, make it utterly wild and primal, or make it intensely and divinely angelic, some cosmic mindfuckery) the better !!

[grimowled]

How loco is the cloaca?

A SUDDEN SNORT OF LAUGHTER ESCAPES HIM,

sharp and genuine, and scandalously delighted; the demon prince leans back as though struck by the sheer audacity, one taloned hand fluttering to his chest, crimson eyes half-lidded and gleaming with sinful mischief.

"hoo hoo, darling" he purrs in decadent amusement, "what a dreadful little question!"

he steps closer and tilts his head just so - owl-like, elegant, and unsettling; his breath a hush of stars and sulfur, the whisper of his cloak trailing like spilled ink across the ground.

"let's just say … not for the faint of mind. a little ELDRITCH. a little divine. my most sacred velvet vault is entirely incomprehensible without firsthand experience."

a sly smirk splits his pale features, and a fond thought goes out to blitzy.

"--and best not explored without a contract, a safe word, and at least three days of recovery."

[grimowled]

Com-MUN-ication Meme

🥰 I secretly admire you

🤓 I don't dare talk to you, but I enjoy reading your threads

👋 I just came to break the ice and say "Hi!"

🙂 How are you, mun?

🤔 I want to write with you, but I don't know how our muses might interact

💡 I have a plot idea for our muses

😕 I want to ship with you, but our muses have never interacted

😔 I want to ship with you, but I don't know if you're interested

❤ I want us to be mains

💞 I want us to be exclusives

💍 I want us to be ship exclusive

💘 I want to discuss romantic ships with you

💚 I want to discuss platonic ships with you

🖤 I want to discuss hate ships with you

💜 I want to discuss familiar ships with you

😇 Can you write a starter for our muses, please?

😄 Can you send me some memes, please?

💖 I love you, mun!

🌟 You're my favorite blog

😊 We should talk more OOC

😓 There's a thread I'm waiting for you to reply, but I don't want to feel like I'm rushing you

😬 I want to send you a meme about (x), is it okay?

❣ I want to write fluff with you

👄 I want to write romance with you

🔥 I want to write smut with you

😭 I want to write angst with you

😱 I want to write horror with you

🤩 I WANT TO WRITE EVERYTHING WITH YOU

[grimowled]

You have some thick thighs, you know that?

AN INDULGENT HOOT RIPPLES FROM HIS BEAK,

not shocked nor scandalised, but absolutely delighted, as though the very comment had been a treat wrapped in vulgarity. stolas tilts his owlish head, one elegant brow arching beneath his crown of dark plumes, his long limbs shifting with languid, feline ease; the shadows coil about him like satin ribbons.

"oh, DARLING" he hums, voice a silken drawl wrapped in barbed flirtation;

"--you flatter me - yet say that like it's a revelation … as if these thighs haven't CRUSHED more egos than a royal verdict."

he trails a talon lazily down the side of his hip, not for their benefit, but to draw the eye - a silent dare draped in confidence. then he leans forward, towering, with a slow blink of all four eyes and a smirk carved from SIN:

"would you like a better look? or are we already skimming the limits of your imagination?"

(do go on. he adores commentary from the crowd.)

[grimowled]