#definitely not maim you for it

[monstriiss]

drath is full of so many samples you're all just too scared to ask for actually

[foxtrotsicrra]

not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing ( aggressively codependent yet emotionally unavailable )

[craycraybluejay]

Saw a Reddit post about a cis woman infantilizing trans men, and this is why I think cis women are THE most annoying version of transphobia in the world. Like yeah a cis man will tell you "kys tranny" but he's not very well going to take the time to psychologically torture you for the heck of it by treating you like you are exactly [three] years old.

[wr0ngwarp]

music box

[toytulini]

idk. picky eater rights. im coming to your events and turning my picky bitch nose up at your fancy ass desserts you spent a bajillion hours working over in the kitchen and asking if i can find like a basic ass brownie with no extra flairs or ingredients or steps or whatever the fuck. cry about it. stop trying to feed me

[soullessjack]

hey did you know that uhm and well if you and uuhhhhh

[starlyht]

barks @ this lighting

[nyehilismwriting]

Could a solution for Rhaxa's teeth be like with Toothless? Bc Toothless has a very flat triangular head... 🤔 💭

yeaah retractable teeth are definitely an option....there are still issues tho with the shape of the teeeth. snakes tend to have very fine, thin fangs, designed for Puncturing, particularly venomous ones; they're animals which are designed for eating immobile prey, whether venomous or constricting, so there's minimal Thrashing Around. their teeth are less to kill with and more just to keep the prey in place while they swallow it.

crocodilians are designed to Grab You And Thrash Until Bits Come Off, which means their teeth are very very strong, don't need to puncture quite so deep, and are aided by their frankly insane bite strength. this means the teeth are broader and stronger, and their heads are built with very different muscle structure; snake skulls are designed to be light, with minimal muscle (a lot of their muscle is in their bodies for the constriction/strike speed) around their jaws, and they just. come apart when they need to swallow something. croc skulls are thick, heavy, very robust, and surrounded by jaw muscle.

i've been writing the bugs as having more snakelike heads, and they wouldn't have the muscle strength to bite down on something and tear bits off without some adjustments; i've also sort of been picturing them being able to unhinge their jaws in the same way as snakes, which wouldn't work with a ton of muscle build up around their jaw.

much to think about......

[crockersbian]

vrisrezi isn't fucking abusive and people who say it is probably jump to callouts every time they lose a friend

[vividviolence]

honestly these are the only archie characters I really give a fuck about don't even @ me

[ghoul-haunted]

one of my cousins was cracking gender jokes about how I dress when we took my sister and her boyfriend to the mall and it was funny as hell!!! and I have to go back. to america after this?? screaming.

[spkyscry-a]

@prankmasterz terrorized: 

The lights died.

This was not an unusual occurrence, not by a long shot. The lights at Spooky High died regularly, what with the arson, and the sabotage, and the property damage, and other some such things. Hell, they died regularly all on their own — faulty wiring and all that, from the repeated damage and age and poor funding.

Nor was it unusual that the room that Vera was in, nestled deep in the bowels of the school, held no windows. It was a big place. Not every room had access to an outside wall, so that was not suspicious in the slightest. It was the pitch black of a cavern in there, nothing to guide her way, darkness swallowing her like an open throat, but that was to be expected. It was an annoyance, a distraction. It was not worrying.

It wasn't even worrying when the door wouldn't open. Jammed lock — most doors had been broken so often that their knobs would often catch, and sometimes all that could be done was call for Martin and get an excuse for your next class, if you decided to go to it. That wasn't even speaking of the rust, or the hinges that long needed greasing, or the heavy doors themselves, or any other number of things. Plenty could go wrong. Usually it was mere minor setback. But something wasn't right.

It couldn't be known what exactly it was, when the feeling first arose. Maybe the air was just a little more oppressive. Maybe the triple happenstance was just a little too suspicious. Maybe it was just a little too quiet, locked in there with a door that wasn't budging, with unyielding concrete walls around her, with no windows to break, with no one else around. Maybe it was just a bit too cold, for an ancient AC that turned the inside of the building into a freezer in summer and walls that offered no warmth no comfort.

It wasn't clear what. Really, it might have been nothing at all. It was, of course, entirely possible that it might have simply been Vera's mind. People did poorly when locked into dark rooms like caverns. When they could scratch and claw down to the nailbed, cutting pale strips into layers of paint over thick walls, until they bent bloody stubs against the concrete and rubbed them down to the bone, seeking an escape that never came. When the silence wrapped around her. It was so loud, so vibrant. There were people laughing, she used to be able to see their smiles, their frowns, the faint etch of worry into the lines of their foreheads, glancing back at her and then back, forward again, aware something was about to happen but unable to tell what, then swallowed up into silence. Into nothing. Into not even the beating of her own heart. Until she couldn't feel herself think, until she couldn't feel at all. But maybe that was Vera too. Who knew where these thoughts came from. Her mind could have created them too. Her mind could have drawn up all the images of what happens when someone can't drop speed fast enough. What happens when they hit a railing. When several tons of steel and metal at breakneck speeds flips over and into itself, what happens when family watches other members of itself shoot through a windshield like a bullet, shredded skin and flesh trailing behind like ribbons, what happens when flesh meets asphalt and skids against it, swaths of skin laying down a red carpet grated so finely from the body. Not enough left for a casket. Not enough to remember them by. Not enough to remember. Not enough.

She knew how to kill someone. She knew what death looked like.

So where did it matter that these things were pouring through from? They knew what happened. They knew what grief looked like. They knew how to utterly destroy someone. They knew how to break someone so wholly that they could not pull themselves back together, no more memories to become anything else.

The room was getting colder. It might have been. Vera's breath might have been curling in front of her face in a fine mist. Hard to tell in this darkness. Hard to tell when it all came so slowly, when everything seemed so normal.

The shadows rippled.

The shadows stretched.

Where once there had been no one there, suddenly there was someone.

Or something.

It didn't feel like a person. Not anymore.

It was pressing down. Down, down, down. Oppressive. Choking not in the sense of wrapping around the throat, but seeming to fill it. Like earth being packed in over a grave, tighter and tighter, no room to breathe, no breath to give, only dirt and worms and insects and things that crawled inside the lungs and were hungry and alive and feasting while she could not, while she had nothing else to be, nothing else to become, gone and missing but not gone, a between-thing, trapped, unable to be who she was, unable to reach back and grab onto herself and remember who she was, but unable to be dissembled, unable to let go.

Something was reaching out towards Vera in the darkness.

Not predatory, to describe it as such would be to give it something that it did not have. It did not want to eat Vera. It was wanting something more. Needing something more. Reaching out and grasping for something it did not have anymore. Something that was taken from it. Something that it wanted back, that it was going to take back, that it was going to take back if it had to rip it out of her and pour itself into her and wear her like a skin puppet and take her breath and her family and her blood and her body and her mind and her memories and—

And that thing was Polly. But it was not Polly either. 

Of course. 

Grimacing initially, the Gorgon’s lids fluttered from the sudden shock of bright illumination to inky blackness that swallowed her sense of sight whole. Eyes adjusted quickly, utter blackness giving way to shades of grey while the snakes on her head hissed with shared discomfort. Ignoring their initial warning, Vera continued the task of ensuring everything was tucked to her bag before going to the door. 

Once, twice, thrice the knob was twisted. The door wouldn’t budge. Murmuring in annoyance to herself, she crouched herself down to get a feel of the frame. Of course, it was one she couldn’t simply slip a card into and start jimmying it open bit by bit. A huff escaped her, annoyance briefly growing to concern. A secluded room, devoid of other exits or light, was certainly an oversight. 

Vera, with as many businesses coiled around her fingers both above and below the board, was no stranger to attempts at her life. The glint of something half a mile away needed to be noted before the bullet that raced past her head turned stone into confetti. The sudden jolt and warmth of a knife sinking into her gut and the blood spilling out after. The tightening of something tight and oppressive, as if trying to squeeze her head clean off through her neck. The burning sensation of water suddenly filling lungs not meant for such.

The laughs of those that were just stronger than her. Sure, Vera could pick up a small car, but she certainly couldn’t throw it. She’d have trouble getting it over her head, even. She didn’t have rows of teeth meant to mangle, a jaw that could crush a steel beam, nor the absurd strength to just cleanly wrench this door from its hinges, reinforced just comfortably enough that it merely thudded with a good kick provided to it. Vera always knew that, compared to most she knew, she was soft. She was something meant to strike first, fast, and not be around for a retaliation. 

Venom and stone, those were what nature provided her. Beyond that, the Gorgon may as well be any old person. She worked her way to being as dangerous as she was. Did what she had to in order to ensure even those with such drastic natural advantages would cower at her mere mention. Think twice about fighting the comparatively frailer monster.

Of course, what was happening, she realized, was not natural. 

A more determined kick, aiming closer to the knob and lock, was provided. Heart thudded, the cold chill of the room blocked out as blood rushed through her fast enough to burn. Snakes flexed and hissed, defensive and cautionary. They saw what appeared before she had. The sudden slight luminance behind her. Hand drifted to knife at pocket as she turned on her heel, red of gaze turning a brilliant orchid as sclera shifted lavender. Had anyone that could have been affected been behind her, they’d have assuredly been given a stone solid reminder of one of her scant advantages she had. 

Had they had blood to course through, perhaps they could have been atrophied from the inside out as fangs jut, popping outward from the oh-so-concealed compartments they rest in. Of course, the presence could have neither of these.

Nothing to petrify. Nothing to atrophy. What had been there had sloughed off and crumbled long, long ago.

“. . . Polly?”

It was in a hushed tone, as if the air so frozen in the room, neither wanted to enter nor leave those burning lungs. Mind raced, wondering what she could have done to her friend to cause this sort of reaction. Hand drifted away from knife, considering it would be useless to her hear. Even her cold iron one, hidden at the nape of her back, would have middling effects at best. 

Polly, the one thing she had very little to stop, was approaching.

“Polly, dear, I’m sure this is very funny, but I have an appointment I’m already somewhat late for. Can we-- Can we do the scare tactics some other time?” 

A hitch to her voice, so rare, came. Venom, prepped and unused, dripped from fangs left unused. It was so uncommon for them to be out, so unseemly on a usually perfect face, that she had never gotten very fine speech past them. 

[ithacanradio]

nothing quite like your parents threatening to leave you in poverty if you don't stop doing political work and just annihilate yourself into your studies

[goldenliartrash]

the sun. science. Meat and cold Ocean breeze

I had an answer for this but I'm worried it would be too horny for main and that it'll finally be the thing that tips you all off the edge and makes you unfollow so

[nazumichi]

*rdj meme voice* there are weirdos rbing my post about my comfort characters

[verahella]

yuji had never been in gojo’s office before.

he hadn’t even known such an office existed until he and nobara convinced megumi to let them fly on nue and ended up with their faces smooching a glass window (which was now broken) and they’d been called into gojo’s office for a punishment.

it was extravagant, consisting of a dark oak desk, a floor to ceiling window, marble floors and whatnot. but mostly empty, no traces to suggest that anybody occupied it. it was devoid of any warmth and gojo’s personality—except for a frame on the desk that caught yuji’s eye.

“hey sensei, isn’t that your girlfriend?!”

gojo’s eyes flit to the photograph before he sighs, “she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

“what?!” nobara screeches, “she was the best you could find! i mean good for her, she’s learnt her standards but now you’re definitely gonna die alone, sensei.”

even megumi’s lips were twisted into a frown.

yuji stutters, backtracking before they get kicked out of school, “wha-what she means to ask is why’d you break up? you guys were perfect for each other.” he pauses, “i think.”

he’d only seen her a few times around campus but she seemed like the sweetest person on earth, based on their few interactions. nobara definitely seemed to approve of her.

gojo props his legs up on the table, shrugging with his hands behind his head, “multiple reasons. first one, she’s out to torture me.”

“i am not.” the trio whips around to see you standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a flat expression. you lift up a bag, “you forgot your lunch. again. it’s been three times this week and it’s only wednesday.”

“as i was saying, she maimed my crotch permanently and lost any hope of mini me running around—”

“it was night and i got jumpscared by your radioactive blue eyes.”

“and then, she launched war on me and didn’t let me cuddle her.”

“because you came home bleeding with an injury that would worsen if i suffocated you.”

“and the worst of all,” gojo narrows his eyes at you, “she ate my kikifuku.”

“you’re a billionaire. just buy some more.” you shrug, placing the cover on his desk.

confusion lingers in the bemused side eyes of the students after the…interesting conversation.

“sure, they all sound heinous crimes…” yuji continues hesitantly, “but is it really worth breaking up over?”

“who said anything about breaking up? i just said that she wasn’t my girlfriend anymore.”

“now i’m even more convinced you were dropped on your head as a baby.” nobara blurts out but megumi’s eyes are already travelling to the ring on your finger, which gojo holds up to show off.

“she’s not my girlfriend anymore because she’s my wife!” he beams.

“fiancée.”

“for now.”

you roll your eyes but a fond smile blooms on your lips and gojo kisses your hand softly, “kids, say hi to mrs gojo. now i call dibs on yuji being the flower boy, megumi the ring bearer and nobara—”

“hold up. maybe we should think this through—”

“no wasting time. i need ijichi to sign the official babysitter documents for our future baby.”

“satoru!”