Regarding Death Wolf...

Hear me out (NO, it's not the kind you are thinking)

We know Death has a job, right? To collect souls and most likely release them to the afterlife.

And for this job, he has to be there when somebody is about to die, as demostrated with him being there moments before Puss' eight death.

Supposing he is THE Death and he has been doing this since the beginning of time (or at least when there were enough stories of the Grim Reaper to adquire a physical form) that means he has seen a lot, A LOT of awful things.

Murders, suicides, massacres, death of infants, people who didn't deserve to die alone, animal cruelty, some other heavy stuff I won't mention here, etc etc etc.

And we thought "man, how is he able to cope with all of that? That job has to be utter torture for someone."

Probably many of you could think that he is able to do that because he is Death, and he was "born" with that purpose and only him can reap souls perfectly.

But while he is a force of nature, he also WAS a force of nature. Let me explain it well: He adquired a personality enough to be angry, excited, frustrated, amazed, happy, among other emotions.

While he has supernatural power and is most likely the most powerful being in the Shrek Franchise (or in Dreamworks as many say) he is also a PERSON.

Someone with a code of honor, morals, opinions, beliefs, etc.

Returning to the question "How can he bear all of that?" taking into account he is no longer an inevitable force, but a character of his own.

The answer is something you may relate to, and that is: Creativity and escapism.

To be the embodiment of Death, the guy is a very creative fella.

First of all, his design. I heard many people saying here and in Twitter that his design is something they would come up in their edgy, teen years of drawing their first fursona.

Guess what? They are right, the wolf form is someone's fursona. It's DEATH'S fursona. He clearly came up with this badass, piercing canine form to blend with the Fairy Tale Land assuming the form of the "Big Bad Wolf". He most likely had other forms he designed over the centuries and was able to present as them like if he were on a role play game in the living world.

His sickles? The weapon of choice with the little crossed cats on it to have a bigger effect of terror for Puss? Those who can become knuckles and join to create a scythe? Those are his creation, probably after thinking it for a while and writing all of those functions on a paper.

The way he presents himself? In the bar? The coins in his eyes as a "watching you" sign while being a cool reference to the Ferryman of souls? He transforming Perrito's forest into the background of a skull? The chilling reveal at the Cave of Lost Souls? The fire ring? It was all him.

As for the escapism part...

When the world becomes too heavy to deal with as real life issues tend to make us feel bad, depressed, angry... we tend to escape it somewhere. And in our time the common place would be the internet as in webpages or comics, stories, etc.

But what has to do with Death Wolf you may ask?

Well, while he would NEVER be able to escape his job entirely, he can have moments where he can enjoy a good hunt of people who don't appreciate life, like the whole plot of the Puss in Boots sequel could demostrate.

He managed to have a little time outside his eternal routine to chase an arrogant cat who took life for granted. He enjoyed it, it was thrilling, it was exciting.

It was a way to escape a monotonous, grim "life", if just for a short moment.

So, when the chase ended as his prey no longer feared him and now was ready to fight for his last life, the wolf retreats, happy for Puss' character development but resigned because he once again had to return to "The Eternal Duty"

And that's not even counting all the times Jack "I'm dead inside" Horner had to interrupt Lobo's hunt and remind him of his job even in his "spare time"

Death knew the chase had to end eventually, but he didn't want it to end.

He didn't want to return to his own world

And if we look at Death like that, then he is probably one of the most relatable characters Dreamworks has ever make.

In the Shrek Franchise:

Monsters can be loved

Princesses don't have to fit the perfect standards of beauty

Handsome guys can be possesive jerks

Love at first sight doesn't work like one would think

Happily ever afters had to be built and not just obtain them with magic

And Death is the most creative and "full of life" being in the world

Because he would absolutely go crazy with his life/work if he wasn't.

Because in a world of Kings, Poets and Soldiers, he's the Supreme King

And he's also a perky goth but NONE of you are ready for that conversation.

More Posts from Iminconstantturmoil and Others

iminconstantturmoil

1 year ago

Where should my mom go😭💔?

Our house in Gaza was bombed, we escaped to #Rafah, and now Rafah is being evacuated, and my mother lives on the sand without shelter, not even a tent 😭😭

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iminconstantturmoil

2 years ago

Muerte/Death x Reader:

Love?

Just a short one. I wanted to write after not being able to for so long, and this'll probably be the only one I'll post after a while because exams are coming and I have, like, 2 bedrooms and an entire loft apartment I need to design + an explanation as to what design principles I chose and why I chose them, all while I'm sick and need to finish my architectural plates. So yeah xD

She's never loved anyone before.

At least not like this.

Before, she used to think that maybe love wasn't meant for her. That it was something that she wouldn't be able to reach out to and fully grasp in her hand, feel it in between her fingertips and feel its welcoming warmth in her palm and press it closely to her beating chest like she was so used to hearing about in books and in stories. That it was only something she could look at from afar and watch as others would be complete with their hold of the feeling of romance so dear that they dared trust it near their heart.

And she wasn't going to lie. She was content with that. She was content with the thought of never finding love like the others. Because maybe, maybe that's not where her life was supposed to go. And yet even though she's told herself that a plethora of times that the words were engraved in her head and in her heart, that it replaced the prayers she muttered to herself in the morning or at night, she still looked at a couple happily holding one another with the burn of wonder and jealousy that the words she had engraved so long in her heart and brain would fade.

How would it feel to have someone you could trust enough with the darkest and most destructive part of you? Trust them enough to hold you so close in a way that you would be treated as the most delicate fine china that they'd ever seen, cup your cheek with the palm of their hand and brush the soft or calloused flat of their thumb against your cheek and feel the love in that single stroke before looking at you in the eye and whisper out those words of reassurance that she's never had the privilege of hearing.

"I love you."

The words that burned through her heart and cracked the thick stone walls she's built around her heart and engraved with the words she's told herself since she had the acceptance of her lack of romance, watch as those walls crack and crumble until she's buried underneath the debris of pain and loneliness she's protected herself from after all these years.

Now, she feels the way his arms wrapped around her form, holding her as if she's the most delicate fine china she never was, feeling him laying his chin atop her head as his evened out breaths were the only sound that mattered in the dark room. She could feel the warmth of his embrace surrounding her with more care than anyone has ever given her in her life and could only lean her head against his chest, too tired of trying to fight away the love he was giving her, too tired of denying herself something that she should be receiving in the first place.

She's never loved anyone like this before. And when she goes to wrap her arm around his form, smell the lingering scent of the smoke of incense mixing with her bath products from the amounts of times he's joined her in the bath before, feel the softness of his fur in between her fingertips and feel the tip of his claws tracing mindless circles on her back, she knew she finally found the comfort of a home.

And though poets will tell people not to think of any person as such because they'll one day turn your comfort into fear, turn that love into hatred, and crush the thought of home from your mind that the sight of comfort would make your insides burn with anguish, she could only look up at his sleeping face, let the smile grace her lips and watch with a strange fascination as to how he'd come to change her life, and give him her full trust that he will remain as her home for as long as he wanted to be, and she knew she'd be doing the same.

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iminconstantturmoil

2 years ago