#mainadesmadness

[antirrhineae-blog]

{{Aaand here's 1/3 apps. Sidebar and all that jazz ye}}

Welcome to Antirrhineae, Dionysus.

As you have been claimed by Zherneboh the Erratic, you have been granted a CN-type Dragonelle and will be housed in Unit A-1 in the Discordant Den.

If your shackle happens to break, you will be able to maintain god mode for a maximum of 10 minutes. During that time, you may only change your own shape, and to nothing more than twice your current size. Your ability to manipulate emotions remains, though the effectiveness is erratic, at best, and will operate mostly by mun permission. The same goes for inflicting hallucinations. Your effect on grape vines remains unaffected.

Fortune favor you and your clan.

— Mod ❄

[evilliousgretel]

clumsy-balder

mainadesmadness

three-little-hellsings

roxxanne-blood

the-bat-out-of-hades

xisthatso 

Have entered the forest

"Huh?" she looked at the stranger in wonder, "A visitor? Who're you?" 

[lokiingfortrouble-blog-blog]

"Hey, Dio."

A quick kiss on the nose. "You're a jerk. ☆"

[mardochaios]

Can I please take the hiatus on Dionysus from Kamigami and change it to a semi hiatus? Only on this account tho- Ciaran and Chizuru can stay on hiatus. I just need SOME kind of distraction lately.

You got it! His hiatus has been switched.

- ♕

[mardochaios]

Hi I need to put Dionysus from Kamiaso, Chizuru from Hakuouki, and oc Ciaran on hiatus because Im going through so much family stuff and my mom has to put my family dog down and I'm just really torn up and I'll come back when I'm feeling... you know

Of course, take all the time you need. We're sorry to hear that, and really, really hope that it all goes smoothly as possible.

- ♕

[imgreatatboats]

▣

Bee-doo! Dionysus has left the party.

[witandguile]

♮

The expanse of his body is coated in scars. No amount of the skin visible from above his waistline remains untouched; the majority of his flesh is pockmarked by needlepoint punctures, while some of his muscles are bisected by jagged incisions that appear to have been stitched hastily, if at all. The undead pale of his flesh turns the old wounds grey and sickly, with the worst of them — the deep gashes around his wrists from being bound against his will — still appearing red and raw.

He senses the other’s presence long before his shirt and scarf are shed, but he doesn’t care much to cover up despite the additional company. His fluttering, occasionally transparent form — his corpse — is an element of reality, and he finds no benefit in censoring it.

"Don’t look if it disgusts you," he says without apology, reaching over to select a rumpled dress shirt from the rest of his belongings. It’s been a long time since he last changed his clothes, hasn’t it?