#pig and runt

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

ME AND YOU FOREVER

Pairing.| Darren (Pig) x fem!reader (Runt)

Summary.| Right as you’re about to leave to start your new beginning, Pig has come to reunite with his Runt.

Warnings.| Dubcon, dry humping, head both receiving, 69, manipulation, planned breeding, you’re both 18.

Word count.| 1.3k

It should have been no surprise that he’d appear on your doorstep, even though you told him it was better if he didn’t. Your parents never liked his influence on you, it threatened your education immensely. 

The typical answers if you were to ask someone to describe Darren would be unhinged, unpredictable, impulsive. Darren was a ticking time bomb, but in his mind he was a devoted angel, willing to do anything for you, there was no distance he wouldn’t walk, clearly. 

When you were almost seventeen, your parents enrolled you to a private girls school to force your growth. It was heartbreaking to leave your hometime Cork, more importantly Darren – Pig. 

To say that Darren -your best friend at the time- didn’t take it well was an understatement. Immediately, he demanded that the two of you ran away together, the world was yours for the taking, nothing would get in between your bond. For you were born on the same day, more coincidentally in the same hospital, you were one soul shared between two bodies. Ignorantly and naively, you always turned a blind eye to his true feelings for you. Darren was completely infatuated by you, smitten by your beauty and charm. But you just played along with the King and Queen games, always mindfully keeping him at a foot distance away from devouring you. 

But the day you were moving, set your relationship adrift. Darren tried to force you into staying with him, as if you could do so, he already had it all planned out, you’d move in with him and be happy together. When you dismissed the idea, Darren confessed his undying love for you and forcefully kissed you. Panickly, you shut down his advances, managed to convince him how bad of an idea this all was and he broke down at your feet. As he begged you to stay with him, you held him for hours until he regretfully let you go. 

When you moved to Dublin, he’d still run away and beg you to catch the next train. You always found a reason to convince him to go back home alone. Typically your emails became less frequent over time, the delayed times angered Darren. He’d send repetitive ones demanding that you’d reply. You changed your email address shortly after he sent upsetting, threatening messages. Surprisingly he never came to see you again. 

Now, two years later, you were preparing yourself for college. You had gotten into a campus on the outskirts of London, you were excited for the change. Your parents were out, you were home alone as you hummed a melody. There was a loud, long knock at the door. 

“Runt” Darren smiled widely, immediately taking you in for a bear gripping hug. 

“Darren” you wheezed, frozen in shock, confusion and fear. Even though Darren was always thin, his strength was large.

“I missed you, missed you so fookin’ much” Darren mumbled into your hair as he inhaled the sweet scent that he craved so dearly. 

It was shocking to see how badly your soul had seemed to miss Darren, even though you had thought that you’d gotten over him. However, this was terrifying, how did he manage to track you down, your family had only recently moved in. But Darren seemed to be so unfazed by everything you were asking him, he’d just hum and squeeze you a little tighter. 

“Been thinking of yah everyday, y’know?” Darren smiled, rubbing your shoulders gently. 

“Been thinking about you too Darren!” you squeaked out. But his head pulled back, he looked you in the eye and glared at you. 

“What is that bullshite! It’s Pig!” Darren hissed. 

“Sorry Pig!” you piped out, your body trembled lightly underneath his hold. 

“That ok… Fook, eh, uh, me need to feel yah” Darren shuddered out. 

As his body turned stiff, he slowly ran his firm hands up and down your body, his breathing went rough and low as he felt your curves that had seemed to grow throughout your time apart. When his hands neared your ass, you felt his bulge poke against your front, you gulped and batted your lashes up to him. 

“Pig?” you whispered, frozen physically and mentality. 

“Me body so desperate for yah, missed yah so fookin’ much” Darren huffed up, his eyes swelled, licking his lips at the dirty ideas that were streaming behind his eyes. 

“What are you doing?” you choked out, your body trembling in fear at his act. 

At first, the humps were light, but then his thrusts turned thicker as he grinded himself against your leg, almost like a stray dog. Darren kissed you softly on the cheek, then his kisses expanded around until he kissed your lips, your lips reminded still, however he didn’t seem to care. 

“Me cock is aching for yah…” Darren confessed through a grunt. 

“Pig!” you shrieked as his hands pawed at your rear. 

You were silenced by Darren harshly pressing his lips against yours, his tongue darted into your mouth, your tongues battled for dominance. But Darren was able to force his tongue down your throat, you grumbled into his mouth as he kept your body close to his. His hands were tugging at your clothing, hips grinding against yours as his tongue pressed against every moist inch inside of your mouth. When he finally pulled away, you were left panting for air, Darren smiled innocently at you, whilst he rubbed his hard on. 

“Need to taste yah too… so fookin’ hungry, I didn’t eat all day!” Darren explained through a rushed tone as he pushed you onto the couch. 

You shuddered out as he abruptly yanked down your shorts, he crawled on top of you, his body flipped opposite so his head was by your thighs and his crotch hovered over your face. Darren inhaled your scent, his fingers trembled over your bare cunt initially, he licked his lips. 

“Darren!” you gasped out as his tongue dragged across your entrance. 

“Taste so fookin good babe!” Darren praised before he eagerly attached his mouth back to your cunt. 

He ate you as if you were an ice cream cone on a hot summer's day, his tongue swished around in every direction. Those roughly trimmed fingernails of his dug into your thighs. Impulsively, his hips pressed against your face, you cringed underneath him and begged him to get off but he ignored your desperate pleas. 

“Can you take me into yah mouth babe?” Darren panted, his face poked out from between his arm and chest. 

He took your whimpers as a yes and quickly freed his throbbing length. You mewled, your mouth closed shut as he pressed his tip against you. Darren huffed, momentarily he believed if he kept on poking your lips with his dick you’d suddenly open up. Resulting in another solution, he pressed a finger inside of you and you squealed out. 

As his cock quickly slipped into your widening hole, you moaned around his size. It wasn’t necessarily long, but the man had girth. Darren grumbled out and moved you both onto your sides, his hips bucked, your thighs locked his head in. Whilst his tongue willingly darted in and out of you, you grumbled, choked and gagged around him. 

All he could think about was filling your sweet pussy with his babba. A small one would force you to stay with him. He’d get a job to take care of your little family, you’d stay home and look after the first of many babbas. 

“Fuck babe… So fookin’ good” Darren whined out. 

Suddenly, Darren’s eyes rolled back, his hips locked in and his member bursted inside of you. Darren whined out pathetically, he bit onto your inner thigh as his legs trembled, your mewls added extra vibrations for his sensitive member. 

“Missed yah so fookin bad!” Darren hissed out, his eyes squeezed shut. “Pig and Runt forever, reunited at last! Never gonna see another day wit-out you! Mine! My babe, my queen, my Runt!” Darren cheered. 

As his cock slipped out of your mouth, you heaved out, too afraid to say anything back to him.

[thisirishmansdaughter]

Disco Pigs

I wish I'd been of an age to have seen this on stage, alas I never did. I have a digital and physical copy of the scriptbook, though, and I adore it. As well as the film. My absolute favourite thing about reading anything from Ireland that has been written by Irish writers is that they retain, or attempt to retain, accents in the dialogue. Obviously the Cork accent written in Disco Pigs is heavily exaggerated and even overacted, but it is still brilliant. There is nothing more enjoyable to me when reading anything by an Irish writer, than finding that they "write with an Irish accent". Roddy Doyle's books also offer this, and I absolutely love it. (Scottish writer Irvine Welsh also does this!)

Personally, I think it is one of Cillian Murphy's best roles. I'd almost like a revisit of it now he is a more 'seasoned' actor, but obviously that's not going to fit the canon age-wise! One of my favourite ever screen moments of Cillian's comes from Disco Pigs.

- Ask me where she is.

- Where...

- If you go, I can't have you back, Darren.

- Where...where is she, Mam?!

The camera is close to his face and the speedy flicker of emotions on his face - across his eyes - is just phenomenal. You can see everything, and each tiny, nuanced change, and it just gets me every time. It is undoubtedly one of my most favourite things, just this specific scene. He's masterful! Obviously, those scenes were never in the original theatre production, but their addition for the film is one I would praise eternally.

It's definitely a very 'singular' thing, Disco Pigs. Darkly funny, strange, and heartbreaking, too. I've talked to fans of Enda Walsh's who absolutely adore this, and others who found it less enjoyable, and equally there has been a divided review within [the cross-section of] the fandom for Cillian. I think, for some people, you have to be a fan of either the cast or of Enda in order to be starting out with an excitement towards it. Obviously this is not my experience - I fell in love with it instantly, and both the original scriptbook and film have remained firm favourites of mine since I stumbled on them in 2009.

Have you seen/read Disco Pigs? What was your experience?

[cillianmurphysdimples]

DISCO PIGS

- Ask me where she is.

- where...

- If you go, I can't have you back, Darren.

- where.... Where is she Mam?!

[angels-hook]

I WANT TO WATCH THIS MOVIE SO BAD BUT LIKE I THINK ILL GO INSANE IF I WATCH IT 😢😢😢

[scxrecrowz]

im never watching a movie ever agaun this shit fucked me up for life actually

[ringleaderising]

In The Wake of Beasts || The Godfall

Time passes, worshippers lose faith and move on, or are destroyed in the aftermath of a clash with another, greater god's flock. Whatever the reason, The only thing separating the spirits inhabiting The Host and any other dragon is the mysterious control they express over others- and the grand stores of magical energy contained within.

Encore has lost the former, and thusly, Godfall approaches. In Light territory, eager vultures gather to fight and scavenge for the latter- and among them, a pair of deathly harlequins and their young.

[Encore, Pig, Runt, Sow, Whelp, Tooth, Claw, Riot, Ravager, and Rot]

Content Warnings: light gore mentions and I think that's it?

"Any eyes on Runt?"

"No, Papa."

"Mmh. Nothin' we can do for it. Thank you, darlin'. Sow!" The Hewn City is alive with activity, perhaps for the first time in centuries. Simple canvas tents and caravans dot shade-gripped ruins, hundreds of colorful furred, scaled, and feathered bodies populating the campsites and bogged down with armor, weapons- and thousands of empty glass vials strapped across chests of various sizes in thick leather bandoliers. Pig takes a deep breath as he exits the well-worn canvas flaps of the circus tent his family calls home- It's been crowded, lately, seven guardian hatchlings would have filled the space more than capably themselves, but Pig's daughters were hardly babies now, and as the moment they would seek clans of their own rapidly approached- as adolescence faded in eager, red eyes for hardened adulthood, it was maybe coincidence or serendipity that a Godfall would be so soon, and so close to the day Pig had already intended to gift his children their cleavers.

"I am busy." Declared flatly. Sow and Pig were never fond of each other in the way many mated pairs were- in honesty, it was miraculous in itself that they stayed blades long enough to rear children- but the scar-nicked hide of Pig's oft bared chest and the chipped, battered bones of Sow's armor indicated they likely just tended to clash out of earshot while the little ones slept. "Whatever it is you need-"

"Nothin' in the other camps about Runt, just sent Riot to check."

"I will send Dethrone on another fly-"

"You will not. We need your damned bird taking point on this, I've seen too many airborne combatants and not enough herding crews-we're going against a bunch of green hunters with a bunch of green hunters. If I see that banescale leave the path of the fall, I'm having roast bird for dinner." Sow rolls her eyes, glancing over at Dethrone nearby, the banescale growling and snapping at the sisters giggling and biting at his tail.

"Dethrone! I need eyes in the sky. God's dropping from out toward the wake, get some eyes on Luminax, will you? If they're too close when it falls we're going to be fighting with a lot more than just one measly lesser God."

"Yes, yes, of course, anything to get me away from these little menaces you had the great misfortune of laying and your charming better half." he takes a brief running leap, and a detour to make a rude gesture at Pig before he's airborne, black flame trailing behind him until he crests the inky darkness of the sky over the ruins- a handful of similarly sized dragons built for flight joining him a moment later, the sky alight with twisting flame and trailing smoke peeling from the bodies that hosted it within.

"No matter the coverage we have in the air, we're flying blind." It's insisted absently- Whelp polishing the blade of her cleaver and laid nearby outside the family's tent. She'd left home sooner, born alongside Runt earlier than their siblings. "Without any sort of information we-"

"I've hunted dozens of Godfalls without a leg up Whelp, it wasn't the norm, before." Sow insists, sighing as Pig brushes past to ready his bandolier- and several more. "Alright, alright, lecture quickly... You and your tinkering..."

"Hey now, me and my tinkerin' is gonna give the girls that leg up Whelp was worrin' about. C'mere, pups." It's exciting, the promise of the ability to shed the blood of other dragons and things higher above the way their parents do- something promised in combat training when they were barely tall enough to reach Pig's hip. There was always this moment, looming on the horizon, a handmade gift from their father, a wicked, mangling weapon built for slaughter- and the Cleaversworn's art has always been brutality blended with innovation- his own cleaver has seen thousands of iterations and improvements- though it's biting edge remains the very one that called him to kill in the first place.

"You'll load vials like this- don't get greedy, don't overfill 'em- too much raw power drawn in and they'll explode." Skilled claws lock brass wound glass into the divot of a cleaver handle- it sits empty, still unfilled with the magic starting to build in the air around them. "Remember, we're only here to fill up what we've got on hand- not a one of you is to try for any sort of glory or accolades- not on your first fall, and not with The Shatterpack and them freaks from out in Lightnin' running alongside us today, understood? You play it safe, you clash with folk who come after you first, and ride the legs and tail- whatever's spilling through the cracks is gonna be big, slow, and likely won't give half a shit about the little things hackin' away at it, so long as it can't see you. Now, you girls remember what I told ya. Trust nobody out there- even family will turncoat on ya that close to that kind of power- and should any of you elect to do just that, you best be prepared to fight me to the death- got it?"

"Aw, come on papa. You think that little of us?" Tooth questions, eagerly loading bandoliers underneath heavy leather belts and stripped, white bone with vials and checking her stock of smaller knives- never easy to tell when she might need to wake someone up after all.

"If we were going to kill you, old man, we'd have done it as a group while you were napping." Claw insists as she ties up draping jewelry and gold, Riot laughing over her shoulder. "Riiight after lunch, but just before you got so comfortable you covered your soft bits, of course."

"A little dagger between the scales and you wouldn't have even known we'd been there, really." Rot grins- mask quickly tugged into place to cover it once more Pig lets out a dramatic groan, rolling his eyes as Sow hides her laughter beneath brown-cast bone pulled over white-painted features. "We've got your belongings all divided up and everything, too, It'd be clumsy to kill you now."

"Oh, look at them scheming to commit patricide, you are my children... darling girls." Sow coos, fondly leaning to set a kiss against six separate temples, straightening leather straps and twisted weaponry against the girls' frames with the mindful, attentive hands of perhaps a mother far softer and less monstrous than the Stringcutter herself. There was a love among the harlequins, bloodied as it may have been and forged in viscera, there was a knowledge in them all that any one might lay their life down for the others, if the need arose. Pig would spend today ensuring there wouldn't be.

But today was not the fall of a lesser god.

The rumbling of earth and the crack in the darkness cast sky that twinkled like oil in water was common enough, the heralds of the incoming collapse, a funerary service attended only by things desperate to feed.

"THE GODFALL APPROACHES!" It is unclear who bellows it first, across the sea of bodies, hundreds gnawing at the bit to scavenge what would spill through for its parts, for its power. It should open, split open to the remnants of a thing barely clinging to life, the sixteen officiants stood on ruins high above the rest of them, each loyal to a different spirit of The Host should give the signal, that those in attendance are free to pursue their prey- a swath of blackened fire to paint a path through the Hewn City spewed by Dethrone and his fellows to keep the stumbling, dying beast under control.

Instead, the Flamebearer's Priest drops dead the moment the Beholders present finish their opening ceremony declaration. One moment the aberration is stood with grand, flaming scales about their neck, the next, they lie dead, flames snuffed as if all the oxygen surrounding them was sucked away in the time it took them to hit the ground.

It starts as a murmur, the young guardians stopping their preparation to watch the scene with baited breath alongside their parents- Pig's usually capable confidence giving way to confusion- Sow's pensive expression becoming one of wild glee. Eventually, the murmuring among the attendants becomes a low roar, a consensus being made even before the crack in the sky opens completely.

"One of the Sixteen falls today!" "The Flamebearer rots!" "The Eternal Flame lives no more!" "A true God to feed upon!"

"Daddy?" It's Ravager, carefully straightening her locket around her neck and turning her gaze to Pig's own. "What's happening?"

"When the gap in the sky opens, you girls prepare for war." In their time with Pig, they've learned a handful of things, chief among them, that their father doesn't exaggerate.

And as dim, shadowy blue opens in the sky above, the massive form of a Guardian explodes from inside with a great roar- like a parasite clawing its way from within a host and as big as Luminax some distance away, bound in glittering, golden chains. Great braziers hung on massive wings spill ash and dust as they spread wide- and the flames within snuff suddenly- the already darkened streets of the Hewn City below now cast in inky, magical blackness.

"AERIAL CREWS, LIGHT HIM UP!" The command comes quickly from someone in another crew, grand swaths of magical fire suddenly spilling from the sky above, painting the ground below into a runway- Dethrone's pitch-black blaze streaking alongside neon blues, purples, greens and reds- corralling a blind, suffering God into the path of the waiting Thronebreakers.

Encore wails in pain, his power stripping away in waves as he trudges ceaselessly forward- the mirrors of Shatterpack already racing at his heels and tearing away at scales.

"By the Eyeless One..." it's Sow who invokes Pig's goddess at the scene, and he can't even find it in him to be smug about it, because this was not the plan- the girls are not ready for this kind of magical fallout, this kind of entity to fall in their presence.

"Maybe we should-" He's cut off by a wild whoop from behind him- Rot leading the charge of her sisters into the fray ahead with wings outstretched and cleaver primed to steal whatever it might pull from the bodies of opportunistic thronebreakers or the god who's path they now dwelled within. "Rot! Get back here-" His demand falls on deaf ears, they are their father's daughters, after all, and the call of the slaughter would perhaps always outweigh listening to their father. "Lady of the Graves be with me..." He growls, taking up his cleaver and quickly loading a vial.

"You cannot seriously intend to-"

"And let them die, or worse, outdo me? Sow that is one of the Sixteen- we may die before another comes down, am I to simply ignore the opportunity t' put him in a grave?"

"That kind of magic-"

"We did tell them they'd leave their first Godfall changed." Pig reminds, wings unfurling from behind himself, cigarette snuffed under one heavy foot- he pauses- a glimpse of a familiar, tiny form running at the heels of the fallen god. "Besides. We should probably go get our son."

"Our so- RUNT." Sow scowls, loading her own cleaver and pulling her hood over her head. "That boy is going to send me to an early grave..."

"Don't tempt me with a good time, darlin... RUNT!!! That's a big one! Get your sisters some cover, yeah!?" Pig and Sow bear down quickly, surprisingly agile given their large size and statures, Runt glancing up and saluting before whirling on his heels and racing back toward the oncoming horde of Mirrors.

"You need to stop encouraging him to do that, Pig."

"And miss out on the way they scatter? absolutely not." He falls into lockstep with the trudging beast above them- as a chorus of terrified wails and screams spills from Shatterpack behind them, a squall of circus-striped tentacles greedily gathering those slower in their grasp and dragging them back toward the gaping, rotten maw of something that surely once resembled a guardian hatchling, now split into little more than a mouth and twisted claws. "That's my boy!"

"Nobody likes a show off!" one of the sisters bellows as Encore continues his death march- with no sign of slowing- the chase may go on for days, no food or water, simply the hunt and peals of heady, thick magic to sustain those in the God's path.

For some, it's a calling, for others, an addiction. For the young Harlequins, it is their first- and it will change parts of them, completely.

[askruru]

no way tooru is 170cm tall 😭

IT IS NOT THAT RIDICULOUS.

[mod moment] i really like thinking of him in the jofoe lineup. dio. big. kars. massive. dio but now with a nifty new body. big. kira. pretty sure he's 5'11. big. diavolo. depends on the source i think, but big. pucci. big in both sources. funny val. big. tooru... kars wouldn't even consider him breakfast. he is a light snack. he is a ball from dio's rugby years. they would all bend down to talk to him. or pick him up.

[marie-is-seein-stars]

Runt being a complete ✨️disaster✨️ for over 6 and a half minutes straight 🐷

"hit the PIG kids"

[agentidiot]

yeah disco pigs is a weird and uncomfortable film but i want to screenshot every second

[pennyserenade]

cillian murphy villains, my beloved little freaks

[cillianmurphysdimples]

- Disco Pigs script book for my new read.

[yanderedrabbles]

I'm thinking about a huge ex-warrior of a yandere. Big and bulky and all too familiar with bloodshed. You'd think years in the king's army would have hardened him, made him callous and cruel. But that's not true at all.

An ex-warrior yandere who cares so much about preserving life because he knows exactly how fragile and easy it is to take. A huge, scarred, mountain of a man who gets soaked to the waist in the dead of winter to save a drowning kitten. Who holds the shivering, mewling, runt of the litter in his hands with a gentleness you've seldom seen.

An ex-warrior yandere who doesn't even eat meat anymore. Who doesn't accept work slaughtering and butchering pigs when the holiday season comes around, even though folk offer him good money for his strength.

A good man, despite it all. Too good for you.

War is a terrible thing and you end up a prisoner almost entirely on accident. Said to be a spy though you're nothing more than an unlucky commoner who angered the wrong people.

He ends up a prisoner too, hauled off the battlefield when he's too injured to put up a fight. Just another prisoner of war, a dime a dozen. He's thrown into the duke's lockup and forgotten.

Whatever fate had in mind, you end up in the same dungeon. Cells next to each other, with nothing to do but tell stories and shiver.

It's miserable there. The gaolers are cruel for the sake of it. The meals are scant, the drinking water not much better. It's the sort of place where dying is considered the lucky option. And maybe you'd have given in, the both of you. Just closed your eyes and let your bodies waste away.

But unlike so many others, you have each other.

You can't see him and he can't see you. All either of you have is a voice in the dark. And somehow, that's enough.

Maybe you manage to escape together or maybe the Duke is defeated and his prisoners liberated. Whatever the case, he's right by your side when you step into the sun again.

How many years has it been? When was the last time you saw the sky?

You were sweet once. Kind, gentle. But years in the lord's prison have changed you. You're sharp and prickly now, slow to trust and even slower to forgive.

An ex-warrior yandere who sees the hurt under all your layers of indifference. Who decides right then and there, that first moment in the sun, that his one goal in life is to keep you safe.

An ex-warrior yandere who says he'll be your guard until you reach your destination, wherever it may be. You're weak, you're unfamiliar with the changes in the world. Anyone can come along and take advantage of you.

An ex-warrior yandere who follows you with a sort of quiet, implacable devotion. It doesn't matter if you're prickly or sharp tongued or so ruined that you fear your heart is forever frozen over. He'll always be there - two steps behind you to guard your back.

You try to send him away. Try to tell him you didn't need a guard dog. He just looks at you and says he's not going anywhere. Not forceful, but gentle and firm. He isn't leaving you, not when you're so scarred from the war that most days you don't speak more than five words to anyone.

It's baffling. Why does he care about forgotten detritus like you? What good will it do? He's still strong, still handsome despite the scars. He can still have a normal life.

But no. He chooses you.

Chooses to walk with you from one village to the next. Chooses to sleep rough even though folk offer him work. Chooses to endure the rain and the cold and the long nights spent sleeping on hard ground. 

"Why?" you ask him time and again. "Why follow me? Why make me your purpose?"

He looks at you over the fire, a small, slanted smile on his face.

"Why do you think?"

You can't quite manage to puzzle it out, though anyone who sees him at your side can almost immediately tell.

Eventually, you settle down. A broken down old cottage at the edge of the woods. A place the villagers are all too glad to hand over. Better you than the vines, even if your eyes do frighten them.

An ex-warrior yandere who fixes the cottage for you, brick by brick. Who cleans out the overgrown garden and trades his labour to buy you seeds. Violets and lilacs and daffodils. Mint and thyme. All the plants you told him you missed the most when you were locked away.

An ex-warrior yandere who spends his evenings sitting next to you at the hearth, not speaking much, just resting his head on your knees and carving wood. Thinking how lucky he is to have this bit of quiet. That all the years of war and captivity were well worth the price if it means having you.

An ex-warrior yandere who slowly heals the broken parts inside you. Who teaches you to watch the sky and the path of the birds. Who teaches you to breathe deep when the nightmares come. Who sits awake with you when you're too afraid of your past to sleep.

An ex-warrior yandere who tells people in the village that you're his wife, even though you've never even kissed. When you ask him about it, he just shrugs his massive shoulders and says it's safer that way. And it's only the trees that know the truth - he calls you his wife because he likes the way it sounds.

For a while, things are good. You tend your herbs and make your tinctures. For a while, he believes he's put his sword behind him for good.

But your past follows you. The angry lover who called you a spy, maybe. Or a lord who isn't satisfied that his secrets are safe with you still around. Whatever the case, they come at night. Watch you, wait for their chance.

You don't notice them, too focused on your brews and potions.

But he does.

When evening comes, he picks up his wood ax and tells you he wants to bring back a few more branches for the night.

"But we've got plenty. And it's dark."

He smiles then, warmed by your concern.

"I won't be gone long, dove. Just a short walk. Keep the food warm for me."

And it is indeed a short walk. He catches them by surprise, awfully quiet for such a big man. They don't even have time to scream or grab their swords before he's cut them all down.

An ex-warrior yandere who wipes the blood off his face and inspects the blade of his ax.

"Ruined," he sighs. "She'll give me hell for it, I hope you know that."

The cooling corpses have no reply.

An ex-warrior yandere who returns home with a stack of firewood and a bunch of wildflowers.

You take them from him and breathe in their perfume.

"Lovely. Thank you."

That makes him smile again. Look at you, saying thank you. Accepting his gifts. It's been a long road to get here. If he closes his eyes he can still see you on that first day, too bitter and angry to even say please.

The flowers fill your whole cottage with their wild mountain smell, and you don't notice the faint trace of blood underneath the perfume. And if he has his way, you never will.

An ex-warrior yandere who swears off his old life. Who swears off violence and death and blood. Unless it comes to you.

He'll burn villages to ash for you. Cut so many throats he can drink the blood like water. He's a good man, but for you he'll throw it all away.

And those who are stupid enough to try it? To hurt the only good thing he's ever had?

Well, they find out awfully quickly exactly what happened to the Butcher of Brostick. They learn awfully fast that a man can change his name, but it's a much harder thing to change his nature.

An ex-warrior yandere who is the kindest, sweetest man you've ever met. Who doesn't raise his voice or pick fights. Who's always at your side when you need a place to lay your head. Who loves you with the deep, immovable devotion of an oak reaching for the sun.

An ex-warrior yandere who always washes the blood off before he comes home.

[revelboo]

If we are sharing pets I hope you don’t mind I share my 5 year old senior Guinea pig Cinder she was born a (theorized) runt with narrow nasal passages and a weakened immune system (the reason the vet begrudgingly said she should probably be a single pig that and Cinder hates other Guinea pigs which is odd for a sow but she was also underweight when we got her and that could be a factor) so she’s had chronic respiratory issues since we got her. The picture of her with the white towel is her at 2-3 months. But she is still trucking along just fine. She has survived URI’s, the flu, and a bought of pneumonia.

Honestly I’m about the same with having health issues on my end 😂 imagining now the bot that gets stuck with me. Or a just person with random crap to deal with stuff like for example like diabetes, Crohns, lupus, or thyroid etc issues just like the random needs extra care 🤣

I feel that. Started getting arthritis in my spine and hands in my 20s 🤣 Rev’s not a healthy human-type creature

Care

TFP Ratchet

• “I let you out of sight for a week,” he growls, sounding like he wants to break something and you’d laugh if you weren’t so miserable. But you’re pretty sure just telling him your doctor had said something might be off with your immune system years ago and that you’d not only failed to go to the follow-up appointments, but had pretty much ghosted that doctor since, isn’t going to make him happy.

• It’s driving him crazy not being able to help. He’d started reluctantly digging into human medicine databases after the kids had started hanging around and had doubled down on it after he found you. Wanting to know everything about you just so he could take care of you. And he can’t. Can’t do anything.

• “It’s just the flu,” you say, huddling deeper into your blanket with a cough. “I was around a lot of people and one of them was sick. It’s not a big deal.” Even if he’s acting like you’re actively dying. He’d somehow bullied Fowler into making a drug store run for you and you’ve got more cough medicine, DayQuil, and Kleenex than you could ever use. You appreciate the effort, though.

• How can he believe that when you immediately start sneezing and coughing, eyes streaming before you draw your knees up and rest your head on them. That looks like a big deal, you look miserable. “I’m scanning you again,” he says and you swat at him, but he runs the device over you anyway. And scowls at the readout. “Your temperature is up another degree.”

• Blowing out a breath, you wish he’d have just left you at your house. That way you could be miserable in peace without him hovering and fussing. It’s not like you don’t feel loved with him being overbearingly worried, but you just want to sleep it off. In quiet. And that’s not happening. “Ratch,” you groan when he mass shifts and fluffs your pillow, fussing with your blankets as his jaw works. He hates this, you realize. That you’re sick and he can’t do anything about it.

• Venting in frustration, he freezes when you lay a hand on his arm. “I love you. You’re doing amazing, but please for the love of all that’s holy, let me sleep and I’ll do that thing you like when I’m better, okay?” You ask, sounding exhausted and it startles a laugh out of him. Venting, he leans his helm against your head.

[quasi-normalcy]

It bugs me that there's basically no lore for the Tellarites other than "pig guys who like to argue". They've been around since the 60s and there's no lore. They were a founding member of the Federation and there's no lore. There's a Tellarite main character on "Prodigy" and so far the only new lore we've gotten out if it is (1) at some point in the pre-Federation past, they rounded up their orphans and sent them out into deep space on colony ships, and (2) they're born in litters and the runts get called "Pog"

[sreppub]

not a full summary but like - Talia tossed Jason into the lazarus pit. He doesn't emerge.

Ra's goes to bathe in the pit. There's a seal pup staring at him from the glowing green waters.

Selkie AU but either the lazarus pit turns him into a selkie or he just didn't know beforehand for x reason.

The Demon's Head could not, until today, say that he had ever been assaulted by a pinniped. They'd thought the kid had just reacted badly to the Pit and disintegrated or something when they tossed him in yesterday, but evidently, it turned him into a small, fat, aquatic creature instead.

Bizarre, but it wouldn't do for Ra's to appear confused with his daughter and two of his highest-ranking personnel right there in the room with him, so kept a straight face and said something vague like, "The Pit distinguishes the masters from the meek."

The next thing to do was to wrestle the thing out of the pools like a slippery little water pig. It was fast and slick, with few handholds to get a grip on. The wretched little beast could apparently hold its breath for thirty minutes and dive deeper than even Ra's dared to without gear, so he tries to just enjoy his ablutions in the meantime, but he swears he can feel little whiskers brushing his foot every ten minutes and now he's livid.

In its next approach, the pest gets arrogant, swimming close enough to a deceptively still Ra's—he has stopped fucking breathing in preparation for this moment—and he strikes out and grips it by the blubbery scruff. Victory is short-lived, though, because seemingly in an instant the creature grasped in his wizened hand is but a soggy, heavy pelt, and a familiar runt is now thrashing loudly about the pool.

Curious. Something clicks now, in his great mind; legends of creatures who transform at will, transcending humanity (a downgrade, in this case, but he can see the intent). None of their intel had suggested any such abilities prior to his death, however... Something dormant, then, from the boy's lineage, awoken unintentionally by the sacred waters' healing.

While he was pondering, his staff had fished the boy from the waters (much easier now than with that disgusting little slug from before) and restrained him for Ra's' awaiting judgement. The boy coughed out green water and shivered violently, crazed eyes locked onto the dripping pelt in Ra's' hands.

Most interesting, little Bat, the Demon's Head thinks. Much to be done, here.

[toxicanonymity]

the runt

A fluffy Thomas Hewitt slice-of-life in THE SPREAD UNIVERSE. WARNING: ref to hypothetical animal death.

When Tommy's shift was over, he stopped by the pig pens on the way to his old faded truck. Most of the pigs were in the barn but some juveniles were outside in the fenced section.

Jim, the man who handled the feeding, announced, "Bout to head out myself." Tommy approached the fence and looked over the edge, watching some young pigs play in the mud.

Jim wiped his hands off on a rag and walked over to join him. "See that one?" He asked, pointing to a much smaller one, resting in grass while the others played and are. "somethin' wrong with that pig, Tommy. Same litter as those," Jim nodded toward some pink pigs more than twice as big. "Ain't just a runt."

Tommy looked at Jim inquisitively and Jim continued, "she don't roll around. don't like the slop. I bring her cow's milk, but if the boss knew..." The piglet yawned and rose to its hooves. Jim bit his lip, then mused, “maybe we oughta put her out of her misery."

Tommy's arms tensed and his chest puffed up. She didn’t look miserable as she laid down again, this time in his shadow on the dirt. Tommy squatted, reached over the pen, and picked her up with one hand. He held her and looked her in the face for a moment, then he stroked between her ears with his thumb. Her eyes closed and she let out a barely audible snort.