the buried dog

my fave bit of black dog folklore is that in some folklore there is a belief that the first person buried in a cemetery stays there and doesn’t cross over and helps other spirits move on and protects them from evil spirits, now naturally people want to avoid this fate for their loved ones and themselves so they would sometimes bury a dog first and it would return in the shape of a big black dog and protect the newly dead from evil spirits and occasionally the living as well

this kind of spirit is called a church grim

4

Derek Cianfrance was adamant not to let production designers dig the hole for Ryan in the scene where Dean is burying his dog. Ryan dug it himself and an hour and a half later, “When he was done digging the hole, he broke down. And that was an unscripted scene, him crying at the table. He was actually so emotional and what he told me afterwards was that, that process tricked his body because his body was so exhausted and his body didn’t know that that wasn’t his dog. His body just buried his dog, and his body reacted in that way.“

little folklore things

in some english folklore there is a belief that the first soul buried in a new burying ground will be tasked to haunt the cemetery forever helping souls move on to heaven and help them to avoid the devil and witches, to avoid this fate there is some customs of burying a dog or some other animal in a new cemetery, it is called a church grim, and unlike other black dogs, which are often harbingers of death, it is a benevolent spirit meanwhile in scottish folklore there is the belief that a person will haunt a cemetery until another is buried there to take their place and so on

in breton folklore it’s believed that if you find yourself on the sea on halloween or all soul’s day that the spirits of the dead lost at sea will try and call your name  to get you to carry them back to land so they can be put to rest properly

among the numerous beliefs of the origins of the selkies, one in shetland and orcadian tradtion is that selkies are the souls of drowned sailors who can return to human form once a year to visit their families

it is believed that the seventh son of a seventh son (or seventh daughter of a seventh daughter) who has red hair will be born with the sight to see the fairies

it is believed unwise to wear too much green as it is a fairy colour and might attract them to you

that’s all i got for now, feel free to add ur own fave little folklore things

My mother tells me
that when I meet someone I like,
I have to ask them three questions:

1. what are you afraid of?
2. do you like dogs?
3. what do you do when it rains?

Of those three, she says the first one is the most important.
“They gotta be scared of something, baby. Everybody is. If they aren’t afraid of anything, then they don’t believe in anything, either.”I asked you what you were afraid of.
“spiders, mostly. being alone. little children, like, the ones who just learned how to push a kid over on the playground. oh and space. holy shit, space.”
I asked you if you liked dogs.
“I have three.”
I asked you what you do when it rains.
“sleep, mostly. sometimes I sit at the window and watch the rain droplets race. I make a shelter out of plastic in my backyard for all the stray animals; leave them food and a place to sleep.”
he smiled like he knew.
like his mom told him the same
thing.
“how about you?”

me?
I’m scared of everything.
of the hole in the o-zone layer,
of the lady next door who never
smiles at her dog,
and especially of all the secrets
the government must be breaking
it’s back trying to keep from us.
I love dogs so much, you have no idea.
I sleep when it rains.
I want to tell everyone I love them.
I want to find every stray animal and bring them home.
I want to wake up in your hair
and make you shitty coffee
and kiss your neck
and draw silly stick figures of us.
I never want to ask anyone else
these questions
ever again.

—  Caitlyn Siehl

Of course, Chuuya and Dazai got their poems, what kind of a fangirl I am if I didnt make one for Fyodor?

The  last piece of FyoDaChuu poem series~

I’m so glad and kinda surprised that Tré Cool hasn’t died in an accident yet. He is one reckless boy. Here are *few* examples of Tré being an idiot;

  • ‘concussions happen to him quite frequently’ (quote from an article). He has also had several cuts on his head from trying to catch cymbals and has needed stitches.
  • He sliced the webby part of his hand between the thumb and index finger on the edge of a cymbal, needed about 5 stitches, still has a scar apparently
  • Very badly dislocated his knee, slam dancing. Needed surgery and was on crutches for 6 months
  • rode a unicycle of a stage which caused one or both of his testicles to go inside of himself. 
  • Jumped of a speaker/ platform onto the floor live on Letterman, landed very hard and had to be taken to hospital
  • crashed a scooter, badly scraping his knee and elbow.
  • has accidentally set fire to his leg at least twice
  • has nearly fell of things many times
  • wasn’t looking and walked into a metal bar.
  • just generally throws things, people and himself around.
He also once said; ‘I wanna survive an avalanche. I wanna be one of those people a dog finds buried under a ton of snow, almost dying of starvation.’

lmfao I wonder if anyone is getting tired of me explaining that thailand isn’t a developed country and lacks a lot of developed privileges. 
Which directly affects the standard of animal welfare in a great big way. 

The Marauders
  • Remus: The tingle in your fingers when you hold a hot mug, feeling warm sunlight on your eyelids when you close your eyes, the vanilla-like smell of old books, soft musky cologne, cuddling with a dog and burying your face in their fur, bruises that you don't remember getting, the bite of cold wind on your cheeks, snuggling up in a blanket on a cold day, looking after your friends, wearing woolly jumpers that are too big for you, falling asleep studying, being quiet so you can observe rather than ignore, surprising people when you speak up, being fiercely loyal to your friends
  • Sirius: Leather jackets on hot days, that one pair of boots that are practically moulded to your feet, bleeding and bruised knuckles, running until your lungs burn, resting bitch face, flirting your way out of anything, quotes about rebelling against authority, graffiti, having a short temper, the chill in your blood when a wolf howls, saying "fight me" a lot for someone who couldn't hurt a fly, Arctic Monkeys songs, using sarcasm as a defence mechanism, the burn in your throat from drinking whisky too fast, trying to find a place where you belong, nails bitten to stubs
  • James: Grass under your bare feet, scuffed knees, freckles, cheeky grins, being loyal to your friends, trying to remember certain events to tell your children, messy hair that will never stay still, losing your glasses, not thinking before acting, falling in love so hard it hurts, the smell of lilies on a summer's day, the sting of the wind on your face, the smell of treacle tart and broomstick polish, chapped lips, a crooked nose from it being broken, having friends that are more like your brothers and sisters

I do not have a résumé that is worth being read by any potential employer. The neighbor girls ask to know where my dead dog is buried in the backyard. They want to dig her up and see her again. My brother’s girlfriend makes a Facebook post about how sweet he was to clean her house for her. I stare at the pubic hair littering the toilet that we share and think about telling her how he fucked our 50 year old neighbor in the back of a car three weeks ago. I refrain. Probably best to keep that one in my pocket for another day. I think about abuse. I think about abuse that doesn’t leave any marks. I think about raising a child that isn’t mine. I think about the day I left college and sometimes I still cry. It’s been 3 years. I wonder what my thesis project would have been. I am a mother but I’ve never given birth. I do not relate to any of my friends. I hope that they leave me alone. I am tired of trying. I built a kickass Lego house for my nephew today but I do not have a résumé that is worth being read by any potential employer.

Take a Hint - two.
  • Baekhyun x Reader
  • Angst - Highschool!AU
  • Word count: 1207

Description: Your rival with Baekhyun continues, but why do things feel different, why do you feel different? Smells like a confession.

A/N: Usually I end parts with a cliffhanger, but not this time, sorry. This is part 2 out of 3. Mostly just a builder to be honest. Baekhyun is such a hopeless romantic, I love it.

one. // two. // three. (soon)

Originally posted by sehuntiful

Keep reading

Why are all my kids so weird?

The 5 year old is always in some kind of bucket or box. Like he puts Rubbermaid tubs in his bed and sleeps in them. He has been deep in mourning over the loss of dinosaurs for two weeks. Just moping around laying despondently on things occasionally saying in a sad voice “But why did they have to die? What killed them?”

The 2 year old keeps slipping behind this chair and like making a little nest back there and refusing to come out. Instead of stuffed animals she sleeps with a fake candle and is constantly naked.

The 11 year old went to a pool party today and brought a bag of colorful rocks. He also left his swim suit in the car and didn’t realize it for at least 30 minutes despite the giant pool and his friends actively swimming.

Even the dog buries her face in the couch cushions until she’s sticking straight up like those foxes that dive into the snow.

I am wearing a tiara though. And when Ryan left to go to the pet store I put my hand on his cheek and whispered very dramatically “Stay safe my love. Come back to me” while he rolled his eyes and asked me what kind of dog food he needed to get.

So I think this is mix of nature and nuture coming into play here.

The Grim

The first thing buried in a graveyard, so the story goes, has the duty to stand watch over it for eternity and keep the bad things out. It became tradition to bury a black dog before any man or woman was laid to rest, to make sure that no human would be locked out of heaven  (or, for that matter, hell) forever.

They never asked the dogs what they felt about that sort of thing, but then, they were good dogs, and were doing their duty. And would do so for eternity. The black dogs who stood watch were dubbed Grims, though as time passed, no one ever thought they’d be needed. Still, the tradition went on.

When the dead began to rise to attack the living, the Grims were standing watch. Not one walking corpse made it out of a graveyard with a Grim standing guard over it, for dogs know the secrets of burying bones so that they stay buried.

Without the reinforcements of all the dead ever buried, the others who rose that day did not overwhelm the living. And when those living went to find out why, they found the Grims, still standing watch.  The survivors told them that they were good dogs, who had done their duty.  And the Grims were satisfied, and taught the living the trick of making sure bones stayed buried, so no dead would walk again.

That’s how the story goes, anyway.

  • Will: *playing with his dogs, cuddling them and more or less ignoring Hannibal*
  • Hannibal: *looks in the dark nighty sky* I wish he would love me like one of his dogs.
  • Will: You should become a dog *jokes as a falling star appears on the sky* *continues cuddling those fluffy little dogs*
  • ~Next morning, after both of them went to bed together~
  • Will: *wakes up and looks next to him* *can't see Hannibal, but a cute blonde dog with a prominent face and dark brown eyes he's never seen before* *starts to panic* Oh my god, Hannibal! What have I done?! *cuddles the dog and buries his face in the fluffy fur*
  • Hannibal: *appears in the room* *just smirks at his cute little Will* //I think he learned his lesson//
  • [Bonus]
  • Later, Will ignoring Hannibal but taking the dog everywhere he goes
  • Will: *dramatically telling people* My (murder) husband transformed into a dog
  • Hannibal: *right next to him* Will, stop telling people I'm a dog!
  • Will: Sometimes still hear him