#wretched beast (affectionate)

[ikachap]

The Wizard B]

[mellypluslina]

the kitties / what they’re named after

[ammoliterose]

anyways. chicken compilation post

[cuppug]

Trying to get the wips I had done before starting anything else so went and finished a drawing I had for a friend that sat in my canvas for a bit… i need to practice backgrounds but i dont wanna…

[fairyoctopus]

We need a gargoyle dragon. We have obelisks that are like... Foo lions/komainu which IS really cool, but I need a little freak ghoulie like this

[radrobsgarage]

Wretched Beasts (Affectionate) and their handlers...

[aubreyappears]

I can’t believe I only just learned about sheathbills yesterday, I love these things now. awful disgusting freak birds who are known for stealing food from baby penguins but only when they aren’t eating literal garbage

look at these wretched fowl beasts (affectionate)

[skelettflickan]

Wretched beast (affectionately)

[dinolich]

Requesting public cat shaming. Must see the attack beast. It's for research. Science-based attack-cat studies.

wretched animal (affectionate)

[sammydreamer]

I’ve noticed a common pattern when it comes to my romantic/queerplatonic F/Os and how I treat them. Observe:

Female/fem romantic/QPT F/Os: You are the most beautiful queen I have ever laid eyes upon. You are my light in a world full of darkness. You are my love, my savior, my everything. I would do absolutely anything for you. I trust you with my entire life to protect me from anything that comes our way. I love you so, so, so much. Always and forever. 😘

Male/masc romantic/QPT F/Os: Horrible, horrible being. Wretched creature. Foul beast. Sheet metal eater. Pathetic little man. I am calling you “babygirl” whether you like it or not, you absolute fucking donkey. Asshole. Go to hell. /affectionate /silly

(Unsurprisingly, the crushes I do get on male characters are usually villains.)

I can’t be the only one who does this, or something similar.

Please read my full DNI in pinned before interacting.

[cursedfortune]

Wishing you all a Happy Father's Day, to those that celebrate. To those that don't, or if your father is a wretched beast (not affectionate), wishing you a lovely day and a reminder - that creature (still not affectionate) is missing out on a cool af mortal.

Be safe, be well, be kind to yourselves! <3

[crimeronan]

I hear you had a birthday please enjoy this Climbing Bnuuy she is a wretched and bothersome beast (affectionate)

HELLO BNUUY!!!

[greenbirdtrash]

Flea, a stupid 1 y.o beast [affectionate] who somehow fell on her stupid little rat ass during night zoomies so hard her legs stopped working, scared the living shit out of me and my entire friend circle, pulling a full-on "Father, i think this is my last day on this wretched earth" performance, scamming me for multiple x-rays, copious amounts of meds and a full week of injections while living on extra soft bedding, being monitored 24/7, treated like a literal toddler and fed baby food from a spoon, is healthy again!

Girl you scared me for life. Can you please never do that again

[meadowlarksabove]

@ihmissutta : continued from here.

The sun crested over the hills, and with the first rays of the morn he heard the melodies of the windchimes outside, and saw a flight of birds shadowed against the dawn. Warmth was fast returning to the Mojave, clearing it of that troubling chill which’d often filtered through the wedge in the window. 

Perhaps that’s what had kept him awake after leaving his gift for Paukka. Perhaps not. Though whatever plagued him seemed to tinge everything, even the rising of that blessed star, with a hint of worry and morbid excitement. Morbid, because his heart raced at the thought of some encroaching doom and not some promised bliss. Would they misunderstand his offering? Would they be offended? Would they throw him away? He swallowed thickly, and his fingers twitched as he sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on how the stars shied away from the majesty of the world. If he had let the idea pass, and had succumbed to his nervousness, could he have forgiven himself for ignoring the call of Her providence? Could he have lived without giving Paukka what was due to him? His love, his loyalty, his everything. 

There were too many questions then, and all of them masked as messengers of his inevitable ruin. In an effort to make even a shred of sense of them, he fretted inwardly, and nearly missed the sound of footsteps over the old floorboards. 

No sooner was he drawn to look did the door open with a brisk creak. Gabban knew it could only have been Paukka walking across the hall, yet his presence in that instance still managed to hitch his breath, filling his lungs with a terrible sense of apprehension. There was nothing so threatening about the other man’s expression, however, nothing to suggest a change over their more than commonly affectionate relationship (which he didn’t know how or what to name, or how deeply it ran for the other besides the resonance felt in their shared looks and touches). But they had undoubtedly seen the craft placed upon their dresser. Seen, with their beautiful eyes, the figures made by his two amateur hands. Imperfect, though complicated as they were– the closest, and truest, expression of his spirit and how it was then irrevocably tethered to Paukka… 

Their voice broke through the silence, carrying with it a message so grand he felt it as a series of waves. He’d heard the words which his own lips had formed so carefully to his previous, failed bonds, who had all let them fall as soundlessly as a bird’s landing. Either unnoticed or scorned, made into the same instruments which had left their marks along his body. Yet Paukka had spoken them so simply that Gabban doubted he’d actually understood their meaning. Until the truth reached him in that last bit of reverberation and he was freed from the shrouds that threatened to blind him from what he knew was there all along. From the signs of his Goddess! 

With relief came the realization that what he’d felt in those early hours of the morning was, in fact, just fear. A grand and looming horror over his heart, that had crouched like a gnarled creature of myth, awaiting to steal its essence upon the poisonous drop of some awaited rejection. That, to his utter surprise, had never arrived. Instead the weight of that wretched beast was lifted off his body, done away with the shadows as more of the light filled the room. Another breath and he realized his eyes were watering. And still, he managed to rise and approach them quickly, his hands gently cupping their cheeks. His beloved Paukka. He saw all too clearly the urgency they must have felt and the tension which had threatened to snap their resolve. They had taken a chance just as he had taken his own by bearing his emotions through the whittlings of his knife, and now they stood, as with the other two of wood, entwined together by an unfathomable connection. His brave and beloved Paukka! 

“I love you.” 

Gabban wrapped his arms around their neck with a vague sense of ‘returning’. As if he were only coming back to an embrace he’d left behind some millenia ago and had long promised to return to. He couldn’t shake the strange feeling, nor did he care to, but merely tightened his hold and pulled them closer. If he was back, then he was truly back, and would never let go. This was exactly where he belonged and no one could tell him otherwise now. 

“I love you.” Gabban pressed a tender kiss to their lips, and as unwilling as he was to break from it, he found just as strong an urge to keep whispering shakily against their mouth. “I love you, Paukka.”

[cartoonscientist]

gaslighting your found family into blasphemy and summoning a demon inside a church to cure their religious ocd [short thing I literally just wrote in the space after making my last post, historically and theologically inaccurate ambiguous fantasy medieval convent setting, Cassandra Nova/Alex Merkel and also Jeannette Secret Six is there too, power imbalances]

“Sister Alexandra. What on earth are you doing with that poor old woman?”

Alex, sweating under her heavy garments, dragged the giggling, wildly struggling little woman before Mother Jeannette and cast her to the floor, sitting straddled across her back in order to pin her down. She seemed to find this very funny, more funny than being manhandled or beat with a wooden crucifix. “She’s not a poor old woman, she’s a demon slut!”

“Language, child! Please apologize to Miss Cassandra and unhand her, my dear. She is but a sickly spinster we’ve taken on to sweep the cobbles. She isn’t even hardy enough to travel, how could she be a devil?”

“But she walks naked in the halls! She is lecherous towards her fellow woman! She has not human feet, but little wretched cloven hooves! Look!” With some difficulty, Alex grabbed one of the odd, pale appendages from behind her and pulled it forward, turning the pearly keratin structure in the light for the older woman to see. Still, her captive appeared unbothered.

“I’m ashamed of you, Sister.” Jeannette brushed Alex’s shoulder, motioning for her to get up, and found she had to use more force than usual. She helped Cassandra to her feet and examined her for strangely absent bruises. Alex was shattered. “Have I not raised you to be accepting of the ways people may be different from one another, by dress or behavior? And to present her bodily defects before me like she’s a mere beast of burden. I’m very sorry, Miss Cassandra. Alex is something of a troubled young lady, she’s very passionate about the scripture but gets confused at times.”

Troubled? After she’d memorized more theology than any of the other girls in the orphanage? After she’d gone above and beyond the expected levels of self-flagellation for a woman again and again, even volunteered to be entombed in a brick cell? How could Jeannette call her troubled?

“I hold no ill will towards you or your ward. The girl is a spitfire, I’m sure she’s quite devoted.” A still-nude Cassandra cast an affectionate but pointed glance back at Alex, who bit the inside of her cheeks. Jeannette was also looking at her, expectantly.

“I’m… sorry. For treating you poorly.” She managed, fighting back bile.

“Worry not on my behalf. God will forgive you, little russet lamb.” Cassandra said, smiling benevolently. She placed a kiss on Alex’s scarred, cold knuckles, and Alex looked at her superior for permission to strike her away. But there was nothing. Surely something about this had to be wrong?

[tiredassmage]

excerpts of a wretched beast (affectionate) from rishi