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dontstareatgorgons · 10 months

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The Sheep Queen

first off, thanks to my friends for goading me into posting this. I wrote this in approx 3 hours, no I dont know how, yes I should have been doing other things.

On the edge of a medium sized town there lives a family who raises sheep, both for wool and meat. They are a large family, fairly well off. Food is valuable, as is wool when the winter months come. The family has no shortage of either. One day, in the middle of the night, the eldest boy hears knocking in the barn; this is unusual, it is fairly well known in town that when hard times hit the family will do what they can to help get people on their feet again (the homeless buy no wool, and do not spare the money for a holiday roast). The boy enters the barn, lantern held aloft, to find a girl, with hair too pale for her age, wearing dark stained rags over starved-thin limbs. "Hello" he calls softly, into the night the girl raises her head in a flash, startled like the jackrabbits in spring, but she freezes like the deer who leap the pasture fences, her red eyes reflecting the firelight the way the barn cats sometimes do, orange glow almost obscuring the way her eyes widen. Fear almost makes the boy miss the way her chest spasms with a gasp of air she does not need, a wordless surprise of expected damnation. He sees the way those firebright eyes dash to the ragged bundle resting on the hay bales prepped for feeding tomorrow.

"Wait!"

As his word splits the silence, like the crack in the old concrete dam that broke last winter, so too do her words come spilling out

"Im sorry! I'm sorry! I'll leave, please, I havent taken anything! I have not touched your sheep!"

"easy, traveller, I mean you no harm!"

This freezes her in her tracks. he cannot mistake her in this half-light, she is sure.

"Come, we have a spare room in the house. it will be more pleasant than the bale, and we have enough blood sausage to feed another mouth. If you wish to continue at evening, we will not stop you, but it does by honor a wound to leave a guest with the animals"

The girl is unsure, but in a twist of fate does follow him inside, where he sets about lighting candles and sure enough, rather than grab for stake or sword, grabs a skillet and firewood, alongside some of the promised sausage.

The noise rouses the boys parents, and his siblings, though his grandmother sleeps on. The mother sees the girl, sees the way her clothes are more torn than mended, more chimney rag than coat. In moments a hearth-warm blanket is draped upon her shoulders, a warmth she does not remember when she last felt. A warmth so different from the menace of torches and forge-metal. Surprisingly it is the father who speaks.

"A traveler, I suppose? I haven't seen you in town, lass." lying is comfortable. lying will likely not work. not with how this man's son heats naught but sausages, not with how her skin has grown as frozen as the ground beneath their feet

"Of a sort, I am not allowed to stay once found." a truth, but not the whole truth. Pray that the boy will keep her secret -pray he learned his kindness from his parents- a look is exchanged above her head. she should run… she has not eaten in months, and the sausage smells oh so good. If she doesn't eat soon she will starve anyway. and she has waited too long, she is too slow to hunt. better a stake to the heart from a kind hand than a slow unmaking rent by her own flesh

"We do not turn out guests here. it is not our way. no matter where they come from." the mother this time. a long-withered thing in her chest begins to bloom, a thing she thought dead seasons and seasons past the tension in the air is barely broken by the boy setting down a bowl of steaming sausage, the smell rising to her nose and tugging on her control. she must not scare them too badly, if she can avoid it she devours the meal with the voraciousness of the beast living in her bones somehow the only look this earns her is one of sadness maybe even pity.

"Do you have somewhere you are going?" the boy again. "....no" her face is streaked in red to match her eyes.

Another look is passed. this time not only between the parents, but to their son, and to the small cluster of young teens lingering in the shadowed hallway. a decision is made. The mother speaks first.

"Stay with us, as long as you need. The road has made you weary, child, and we have no shortage of beds. Rest here, heal up. You are welcomed. We will be here when you rise, and there is food aplenty." Ultimately it is not the girl's choice. The horizon is beginning to glow. The boy leads her to a room, clearly unused. Long ago it was likely on an exterior wall, but on homesteads like this, houses grow with the family. There are no windows. It is the best the girl has slept in years.

She wakes rested, and stronger than she thought she could be, the moon already well underway in the sky. as she creeps out to the kitchen she finds the entire family, this time alongside elders, gathered together. She trembles slightly as a breeze blows through, for it is long past the time that herdsmen retire, and even further past when elders are oft to bed. The eldest man, who must be the boys grandfather, speaks first.

"Did you sleep well girl?" she knows not what to make of this

"yes, sir, I thank you for your hospitality"

"good. eat up, there are things to discuss" the old lady, who must be his wife, reaches a weatherworn hand out to thump his shoulder

"don't scare the poor dear, she's had enough frights! come girl, sit" she motions to the empty chair at the kitchen table, one more than had been present yesterday. Again she is handed blood sausage, this time by a guileless child missing a front tooth. She hasn't seen a child up close since her empty stomach stole from her the warmth of youth as she eats, now more tempered, more careful, no longer quite as consumed as the night before, the grandfather speaks.

"I know tales of your kind, who live by the moon. You are faster, stronger, than any man can hope to be. Some call you savages-"

her grip tightens on the utensil she has been given

"but those folk call many fine people savages, so their thoughts matter little. I tell you what girl; no matter what you decide you are welcome here until your body is strong enough to continue, but if you want to stop running, I shall strike you a deal. Once you are well, you shall watch the herds in the night- we have had problems with wildlife, though you need only come wake us should something appear, and in return you are welcome among us like family. We shall feed you, house you, and look after you as our own." this seems like a dream, a luxury she almost had forgotten.

"Think on it, child, and in the meantime rest, and recover. you are safe here."

She does, in the coming weeks. her frame begins to lose the hollow gauntness, and her hair even earns back a bit of shine. weeks become months, as the cold season comes, and then goes. somehow the thought of leaving never comes to her mind. At dawn and dusk she greets the family warmly, eating her dinner with the early risers, and eating her breakfast with the night owls. Every day, without fail, she finds a bag of sausage with her name writ upon it waiting for her come midnight. The sheep themselves do not trust her much, as sheep are wont to do, but time has calmed the brave ones. Some even call to her when the rare wolf prowls the woods. It is as the harvest comes that the boy pulls her aside one eve and offers her something.

"a treat" he says. "It is harvest time, and i fear you are likely getting rather bored of the same sausage. '' Getting bored of food is a luxury she has never had, not even as a true child. He leads her to a building, on the opposite side of the house from the barn. This, she has learned, is where the family processes their animals for meat. Sitting on the edge of a bench just outside, is a jug, and a cup taken from the house. With a flourish, the boy pours from the jug and hands the girl perhaps the sweetest gift given to her since that offer of a warm bed. She drinks the rich sheep's blood, so much warmer and more filling than the sausage which has sustained her so far. He gleefully hands her the fairly large jug. she drains the entire thing, and not once does the grin leave his face. How lucky she is to have found him that night.

She stays.

Months grow to years. If you didn't know better, around harvest season she almost seemed alive, a warmth in her bones, and a flush in her cheeks. Even in the depths of winter, when no sane farmer would butcher fresh meat from his herd, she is as broad as a farm girl ought to be, and her feet dance upon the grass. The waif who stowed away in the hay stack has become another bright eyed head among the young family, playing games with the young ones and soothing late night terrors when she can. In her fifth year with the family, she marries the boy. They spoke, beforehand. They both knew she had not aged a day. They both know she never will. One winter, when his joints begin to creak, it is decided. At sundown, two pairs of red eyes open on a sheep farm in the hills. less changes than one might think.

Time creeps forth. the whole family cannot become nightwalkers; this the couple has always known. The boy's grandparents pass soon after the wedding. His parents pass some few decades later, peacefully. According to the magistrate, the boy has an illness that prevents him from coming to town. The farm is inherited by the next eldest- The parents had confided in the girl that was the plan all along. Her husband may be soft at heart, and know sheep like none other, but did not have the mind for the law and contracts like his brother. Time continues to march. Soon even the brother is taken by time. The small town has grown, now a moderate size trading hub for goods.

No one alive remembers the night a young girl took a chance on a kind boy. The night a kind boy proved a monster is not a monster at all.

The family grows, for while the original siblings are gone, they too had many children. Children taught early the importance of their uncle and aunt who live at night, their family who kept both them and the herd safe, who the family protected in turn. As the family grows, so too do the herds. A young son comes forth, and asks to join them at night. He has no love to leave behind in town, only the sheep he tends. Three pairs of red eyes open on the hill, as twilight purple fades from the sky.

So too, do both branches of the family grow as years pass. "The night shift" and "the day shift" they come to be called, first inside the family, then by the town in general. Everyone knew the house on the hill who hired night guardsmen for their sheep; no one wanted to become the poor sod up at ungodly hours, but no one ever assumed "the night shift" was anything other than shepherds who got the short end of the straw, normal people just like them. That's how the family liked it. There was but one problem; the dog problem.

It went like this; a skilled shepherd needs a herding dog, to direct and control the flock. A family of shepherds needed many, yet Dogs are only awake during the day. For a time, the Night Shift made do, but corralling a flock when predators were about was difficult, and draining. Until The Incident.

The family had always had herding dogs, bred them in fact. When the girl had first arrived, the dogs had never liked her. Animals rarely did; the sheep were simply too stupid to be scared. But then she witnessed the first litters. By then, the dogs had grown to tolerate her. It took longer than the other children, but eventually she was allowed to meet the pups. She had told the father she would frighten them. The father had handed her a pup anyway. "They are young. Everything frightens them. They will learn, much easier than the old ones." He had been right.

Now, the descendants of those very same dogs who had so distrusted her, came to beg scraps from her, and laid upon her feet when she had the rare night off (a feat becoming ever more common as the family grew. Many hands make light work, and for all she had not changed a whit since her wedding day, she was an elder, who had a hand in raising every child under the roof of the now-sprawling collection of houses in which the family lived).

For all that each canine life seemed shorter than the last, some bonded close to the lady and her husband who had been there for so long. One night, one such dog, the family's best herder, had been wandering near the woods when it encountered a starving wolf in the underbrush. The screams had split the twilight as both sides of the family raced for the commotion, only to arrive to the aftermath. The wolf was slain, its red blood staining the grass, but the lady lowered her head as her husband's favorite dog lay, its breath a weak and gasping thing as it nosed its master's cold hand. The two were no strangers to grief, this would be far from their first such loss, but her dear husband had forgotten something. In his haste out the door, the knife he had been using to whittle a wooden gift for one of the children had sliced his hand.

His lack of heartbeat had prevented him from noticing, and what passed for adrenaline masked the pain well enough. Both the lady and her husband realized the truth in unison, either too late to stop it or too curious, as the dog lapped at the weeping wound. He felt it before she, but they both knew what it meant. They waited, as the great furred chest finally went still. The rest of the family began to disperse, to leave their elder to mourn his oft-companion, but it was as they began to turn away that twin shocked gasps arose from little-used lungs, drawing attention to the sudden hacking cough, expelling viscera onto the ground, the chest ceasing to rise and fall even as the legs levered it upwards and towards its fellow cooling corpse. Teeth and tongue lapped at tacky red, and the beast ate its fill, before its head rose and a deep howl breached the sky.

The townsfolk say the nightwatch must have bred herders to wolves. The superstitious claim they tamed demons Only the family know that the best of the dogs they rear will outlive even their children, for the nightwatch are not true shepherds without a team of dogs at their sides.

If you visit that farm, in that no-longer-so-small town, you will see a pack of dogs gamboling about. Others yet sleep, some sprawled in the daylight, others tucked away in beds or the barn. Some are odd things- they seem too intense, too knowing. Some swear they have seen the same dog decades apart. All run together, until a whistle splits the pack. All run together, when a howl shakes the earth. no one has ever heard tales of bandits in those hills. The wise know that just means none survive to tell the tale. The wolfpack of the hills goes quiet. The hounds chorus takes their place. Oft, the night shift chose their hounds.

Sometimes, the hounds choose their masters. Often it is the children who look after the pups, in spring, their parents too busy with lambs. Often, the older children chose a member of one such litter to be their companion during the day. One such boy poured his soul into his friend, who was naught but a step behind the boy for years. The little boy became a man, and his lifelong friend became the undisputed best, first of the litter, then of the pack. But age comes first for those of four legs, and soon aching joints threatened to send the man's shadow from the fields. One festival night, when all the family came together to share stories and merriment, the man was approached by a distant cousin of sorts, a man who looked only a few years older than himself but whom in reality likely helped raise his grandfather, spoke to the man.

"Your hound is aging, he is set to retire this year. He is skilled enough to be one of us, if you and he would allow it. The change would heal him of his ache, but only so long as it is fairly new. Consider it, and find me if you assent" A challenging proposition. He would lose his friend to the night, no longer living the same life, able only to connect in those stolen moments bookending the day- but to refuse, and he would lose the being who saw him through his growth entirely. In the end it was barely a choice at all.

His dog is dead, the heartbeat twin to his has stopped. It aches, in his chest, where that second heart should be. His work is awkward, stilted as he learns to command another. No one can replace his soul made flesh. The day is exhausting, as he trudges home, to his bed which was so difficult to leave. When he pulls back the covers, his hand brushes cold fur, and the man smiles, bittersweet.

"stolen all the heat again, old friend?" A blur of pure darkness leaps up, and a cold tongue laves sun-warm cheeks. "i'll be sure to have it warm for you in the morning, dear" A whistled tune splits the sky. Red eyes turn to look back, a silent goodbye. The mans dog is dead.

So goes their life, connected in parts for thrice as long as they were connected as a whole, yet still do they sleep on the same sheets, just like a boy with his pup. A tether both broken and unbreakable, indomitable in strength. The man's joints too grow stiff. His nephews and nieces know what this means, they all know that time is coming for him. Just not in the way most would assume. He approaches The Grandmother, a woman legends have immortalized as the Sheep Queen of the hills. She snuck him candy whenever he was too sick to go into town with the other children, back when he was little. Before he can even speak, that festival night like so many years ago, she smiles at him.

"I know what you seek, child. Your offer accepted, our help freely given, but I must deny you one thing." His heart becomes as cold as that old void in his chest, a void partially filled, but painted with longing. "for another wishes the honor. Like calls to like, after all." Her voice rises over the wind- "Welcome, child of dawn, to the twilight. Join your soul across the veil, we welcome you with open arms!" Confusion graces his face as the customary cheer goes up, until familiar weight rests upon his knee, a weight he has felt every morning and every night, yet misses keenly every day. In mere hours, that cold place between his ribs is full. It is not warm- it never will be again, he knew that from the beginning. But it is no longer shards of sharpened ice. Now, it is the pleasant coolness of freshly washed sheets in summer. The playful rush of white rapids, urging him forth to greet the stars.

The man's dog is dead. But so is he. And as he smiles and laughs with friends new and old, his heart is at peace. They say the sheep queen of the hills is a goddess. They say she is a demon. Most say she never existed at all- But sheep are still reared in those hills, in the hands of a family older than the roads they tread, tended by herdsmen and hounds alike. And if a merchant sees a flash of too-bright teeth during an early morning delivery, or a lost child is returned home in the night telling stories of bright eyed doggies who carried them past all danger in the night, yet had to go around the creek not through, well, sometimes minds played tricks, and sometimes children told stories. And when men came asking for monsters, none could be found here, only neighbors, and the animals with which they spent their days.

#short story #fiction #original fiction #this is 3.6k words long and I wrote it in 3 hrs HELP #vampire #vampire dog #a wholesome take on vampires #redefining a monster

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flamingdiva · 3 years

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It's so funny you would say "no part of the animal gets wasted" on the pleather post when actually, no, getting meat from an animal ruins the hide, and getting undamaged hide from the animal ruins the meat, and every single kind of leather clothes in circulation now are made from animals raised and killed at a fraction of their livespans specifically for leather production. Leather is not an innocent byproduct of consuming meat, it is its own separate industry, and actually creates more waste. Not to mention tanning the hide for human use is a highly contaminating process, and makes leather not biodegradable afterwards.

When I wrote those words I was thinking of how people have been living for thousands upon thousands of years. I don't know who or where this idea that getting meat from an animal ruins the hide and vise versa came from (probably peta who think cow tags are some kind of torture device). Vikings, ancient Egyptians, Babylonians, etc.... there are still many indigenous groups who kill an animal, eat it's meat, tan the hide, and even use the bones to make tools. Not a single part of an animal is wasted when indigenous people handle the animal. Also no chemicals are used when tanned in the traditional way but we'll get to that later.

You know what, anon, I'm going to do some research because now I'm curious and I don't want to assume things based on my own memory and thoughts.

Found this interesting article on a fashion site about if leather is ethical.

Sounds to me like most cow leather is actually from cows that have been slaughtered for meat or dairy cows that have stopped producing milk. Which means either they were going to be killed anyway or they have lived a rather long life. There's even some interesting facts about leather made from pythons etc that has made me less upset about some of my favorite animals being made into shoes.

It makes sense, actually, to- excuse the pun- milk as much money from a cow as possible. Ranchers have bills to pay, corporations love the feeling of getting richer. No one is going to be throwing away 5% of a paycheck.

Now lets move on to the tanning process. Humans have been tanning hides long since before 400BCE when Egyptians and Hebrews started using vegetables for tanning according to Britannica. Now I dont know about you but I have a feeling the chemicals you are talking about did not exist back when Ea-Nasir was receiving those complaints about his copper.

Oh I was right. That started in the Victorian era. (Everything always comes back to the Victorian era)

According to Wikipedia (our favorite research site) the methods of tanning are: Vegetable, Chrome, Aldehyde, Alum, and Brain. When I said that indigenous peoples use every part of the animal I didn't know they even used part to tan the hide. I did know that they use animal fat to help keep the leather good, though, so I should have guessed.

Here is an Ojibwa site with an article on tanning.

(We are back to my "no part of the animal gets wasted")

And I'm enjoying reading about this effort to reclaim parts of a culture that is still in danger of being striped from us.

Sorry this has gotten long but I'm a little passionate about leather now and so many cultures have leather making as a large part of how they lived or live their life. Alaskans rely on leather and furs to keep warm, no amount of pleather can give you an ounce of warmth. A good pair of leather boots can last for over ten years, maybe even 20 if well taken care of. A pair of pleather shoes last about 3 years if you don't wear them a lot. Leather products last. And, when done right, is far better for the environment than plastic leather.

So really the fault with leather lies in capitalism and not in the actual existence and use of it. As with many other useful things. Also once again the answer to the problem lies with the Indigenous way of life.

"makes leather not biodegradable" It has to be way more biodegradable than plastic leather

#anon ask #long post #took me some time to get to this sorry #it really does amaze me people think getting the hide from an animal ruins the meat #y'all need to visit the country smell that sweet scent of manure and look a rancher in the eye as you tell them that

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ruewrites · 4 years

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Hii! so i really love Dialuci and i wanted to request a fic about them. I like the 5 things + 1 thing trope but i saw that u already have a fic like that, so if you dont wanna use i understand, i just want a cute Dialuci fic bc they are adorable 💖

5 Times Diavolo Felt a Little Less Alone

AO3

Ship: Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 2005

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi Anon! I’m always down for 5+1 requests! I hope you like this! I’m still getting used to writing for this ship, but I had fun!

Diavolo’s fingers danced along the castle walls as he gazed at the fallen Morning Star. He was more than the prince could ever wish for, to ever hope for, and he was standing right there. Well, sitting. He’d met Lucifer before, but he’d never seen him this worn. It was understandable, but still.

Gripping his nerves, Diavolo decided to approach him once more. Lucifer’s eyes swept up towards the movement and the Prince suddenly was all too aware of his heart pounding away in his chest.

“May I take this seat?” he asked.

Lucifer was silent for a moment, then he nodded, “I suppose you can.”

He was a bit more eager than he’d like to admit at the ‘okay’. He wanted to turn the Devildom into a home for Lucifer and his brothers, to make them all feel comfortable. He wanted them to want to stay.

Lucifer regarded him oddly, almost as if he couldn’t make out Diavolo’s intentions. Which was fair by all means. Perhaps he wasn’t setting the most appropriate of moods, but he found himself giddy at the mere thought of sitting close to the Morning Star. Even if the circumstances that brought them together once more were grim, he was still happy that he got to see him again.

“Can I get you some tea?”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted something to calm Lucifer or his own nerves. He’d have Barbatos bring every type out that he could find. He wanted to give Lucifer the widest variety of options that he could. He wanted to give Lucifer anything that he could.

“I suppose that would be nice,” Lucifer seemed hesitant. It was understandable of course, but Diavolo was already summoning Barbatos. He was going to make the Devildom home for Lucifer.

***

Diavolo loved parties. They filled the castle up with people and laughter and music. Things Diavolo wished there had been more of as he was growing up. Even so, sometimes the parties still felt lonely. Others wouldn’t address him the same way they addressed each other. It made sense, he was the Devildom’s prince. They had to treat him with respect.

He could act like one of them.

But he couldn’t be one of them.

His fingers tightened around his glass.

“Lord Diavolo, are you quite alright?” Lucifer was staring at him. Lucifer’s attention was on him.

He forced a laugh and put his hand on his shoulder, “Of course! Why would I be anything other than okay?

Lucifer’s brow furrowed and his lip twitched. He didn’t believe a word that had just come out of Diavolo’s mouth. Lucifer was the eldest of his brothers and the one that kept them in line, he knew when he was being lied to.

But before he could get a word out, Diavolo was already spewing more words at him. “I mean, just look at everyone out there having a grand time! There’s nothing to be disappointed about when there’s so many smiling faces,” he said, “In fact, shouldn’t you be out there enjoying yourself too?”

Getting Diavolo to try to go back to their previous discussion would be like taking Cerberus to the vet. So Lucifer played along, for now.

“I don’t believe I will, I have a perfect vantage point of my brothers from here.”

“Vantage-?”

Diavolo glanced out to where Lucifer was nodding. The rest of the six were all in perfect view with a slight turn of the head. He shouldn’t be surprised, Lucifer always had to make sure his brothers were on his best behavior. Well, Diavolo didn’t necessarily think that Lucifer had to per say, it was something he just did.

“So if it’s quite alright with you, I think I’m content on staying right here.”

For the first time that night, Diavolo felt himself relax and offer a genuine smile, “Of course.”

***

He knew it was late, but come on. Diavolo tapped the back of his D.D.D. restlessly as he listened to the line ring. Sure he could send a text, but he just wanted to hear someone else’s voice for a moment. Just a moment. Then he would be content.

He was about to hang up and redial again when a tired voice came up on the other end of the line.

“Diavolo? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Part of him felt bad when he heard Lucifer yawn on the other end of the line, but his heart also leapt at the sound of his voice. Lucifer had a strange affect on him, and Diavolo was addicted to the sensation. It filled a void that rested deep within him, and he didn’t want that space to ever be vacant again.

“Ah, I apologize Lucifer. I just had something I wanted to tell you,” he stopped. Well, that phrase wasn’t completely a lie. He was sorry, but he didn’t have anything to say. “But it all seems to be slipping my mind right now.”

Silence flooded the other end of the line. A sigh entered his ear. “Diavolo- Send me a text when you remember then. You can always tell me to-”

“Wait.”

He could feel Lucifer hesitate. He could practically see the way his eyebrow raised, how his arms would fold if he wasn’t holding his D.D.D. He could feel the way he analyzed him, looking for the smallest bit of truth, the tiniest give away in his being. His words died at his lips, his normal forms of begging and pleading refused to come out.

He didn’t want to be alone.

Not right now.

Not ever.

“Please don’t go.”

His voice came out so small. It didn’t fit him. Normally his presence was powerful and captivating, but not he felt like the smallest breeze could blow him away. The ticking of his clock started to flood his mind, drawing out any other possible thought he could have had.

Time stretched out in odd ways Diavolo couldn’t comprehend, and there was only one thing that brought him back.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stay on the line, just don’t mind if you hear snoring. Now, what do you want to tell me?”

***

“Oh Lucifer! Look at this!”

Humans had such odd little things, but they were also incredibly dear. Who would have thought about making tiny clothes for animals? Adorable!

Diavolo held up a small yellow raincoat and pushed it into Lucifer’s face, “You should see if you can get a big one for Cerberus.

“Cerberus will be fine without,” yet his eyes lingered on the small outfit for a moment too long. A smile cracked at his lips, “I do believe I know a certain chihuahua it might fit though.”

Lucifer chuckled to himself as Diavolo continued to gaze at the little treasures that decorated the walls. “Oh they even have little rain boots! It’s a shame they don’t have anything bigger. Human dogs are just so tiny. And they don’t have nearly enough heads. They’re still just as lovable though.”

His hands moved to the bones and a frown spread across his face, “These are hardly fit for a dog.”

“On that front I agree with you. Not bloody enough.”

“Not big enough.”

“And they hardly look study.”

“It would barely function as a toothpick!”

“And no meat either.”

“It’s sad really.”

“Trully.”

The human world was different from the Devildom, very different. Diavolo could honestly say he’d never experienced something quite like it before. Everytime he thought he had it figured out something new popped out from around the corner. What made the entire thing even more wonderful was having someone to share it with.

He peered at Lucifer from the corner of his eye. Before he knew what was happening, the warmth of Lucifer's lower back was pressed against his hand. Lucifer stiffened ever so slightly. Then his muscles relieved themselves of their tension.

The Demon Prince had someone to share his experiences with.

***

This was an ethereal experience. It wasn’t something he could take lightly. This was a sign of trust. This was so much bigger than him, and Diavolo wasn’t about to take it lightly. Lucifer’s naked back was to him, his blackened wings stretched out before him. Diavolo felt as if he could see every breath the Morning Star took, every heartbeat drowned out the ticking of the clock.

“Are you sure?” Diavolo wanted to give him one last chance to back out. This was something sacred and intimate, something that he knew must have Lucifer on edge.

Lucifer’s head nodded ever so slightly, “Just remember what I told you.”

Diavolo swore he could feel his hands shaking, anxiety curled around his stomach like a serpent the closer he came to the majestic sight before him. Then the soft silky texture brushed against his finger tips. He couldn’t help but admire them as he ran his fingers along their gradient.

Lucifer trusted him with this.

Lucifer wanted him to do this.

He could have teared up in that moment, He promised himself that he would forever hold this specific moment close to his heart.

Of course Lucifer’s wings wouldn’t preen themselves. “Tell me if I do anything wrong.”

Perhaps he’d gotten too close to Lucifer’s ear, maybe his breath had been a little too hot, maybe he shouldn’t have gazed at Lucifer’s reddening cheeks as long as he did. But he wouldn’t change it for the world. His right hand man trusted him. A man as wonderful and beautiful and radiant and intelligent as Lucifer trusted him. Diavolo was allowed into his life.

The room was dark, quiet, and safe.

Diavolo never wanted to share anything this intimate with anyone else.

***

The first thing Diavolo registered was how warm everything around him was and the fire softly crackling against the wall. Slowly his eyes peeled open and he sat up. After taking in his surroundings, he came to realize that he’d fallen asleep at his desk. Something quite unusual for him. He grabbed at the blanket around his shoulders as questions filled his brain.

“This is quite the role reversal isn’t it?”

Ah. Lucifer.

Diavolo hadn’t even noticed him.

A kiss was pressed against his cheek and a cup was set down onto the table. Spices immediately filled all of Diavolo’s senses flooding every corner of his head.

“Usually you’re the one doing things for me when I’ve been at my desk for too long, and now here we are.”

Diavolo brought the cup to his lips, enjoying the warmth against his skin, “It took so much for you to allow me to spoil you.”

“Not everyone in the world is as genuine as you Diavolo, and affection isn’t something I’ve been particularly used to.”

Lucifer’s hands soared over the desk as he started to organize various papers and documents. Honestly, at this point Lucifer was probably almost as skilled as Barbatos when it came to organizing Diavolo’s desk. Diavolo liked watching him work, it almost reminded him of a dance. Watching Lucifer was always a wonderful time, it was a treat. Perhaps domestic was the correct word.

“I believe you’ve told me before that there’s more comfortable places to relax than a desk.”

“Like plush chairs by the fireplace?”

“I do believe you mentioned those, yes,” Lucifer took his hand and helped him up, “Join me?”

Diavolo had gotten a taste of company all those years ago, and now he constantly lived in company. His old self would be envious of what he had now. As long as he had Lucifer he wouldn’t be lonely, he’d have warm nights and bright days. There would always be a reason to make a second cup of tea or to bring two plates to the study. His things would sit next to Lucifer’s, they could have long conversations or comforting silence, and the chair next to him would never be empty.

Finally Diavolo had someone to share his life with.

Finally life wouldn’t be lonely anymore.

#ruewrites #anon #request #anon request #obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #diavolo x lucifer #dialuci #5+1 things #5+1 fic #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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peterrparrkerr · 3 years

Text

Zombie apocalypse au - read on ao3

*-*

Peter doesn't remember life before the virus. He was only five when everyone got sick.

He's seventeen now, and he's never set foot outside of the city. Well, outside of the tower.

There's a curfew -has been since the virus. Those who go into the city for supplies or to work the garden and tend to the livestock have to be inside by five every day.

Peter doesn't have a green thumb, nore does he have a way with animals. And he's got two left hands when it comes to weaponry. So he stays in the tower.

The tower used to be Stark Industries. When the outbreak hit New York, people locked themselves inside, tried to wait it out.

Peter had been with his aunt. She tells him they'd gone to get ice cream and bring some back to his parents.

Aunt May had ran into the closest building -Stark Industries- and had hidden in the basement with Peter. He doesn't remember.

Tony Stark -the owner of Stark Industries- had offered his penthouse to the few who had taken refuge in his building.

After a week, many of the workers left, off to find their families. They never came back.

A month passed, and scouts confirmed the virus had taken over the whole city. Stark tower was the only building the monsters couldn't get to.

So, it became home. Peter grew up running up and down the industrial hallways, playing with the golden retriever one of the hideaways had.

He didnt know anything different. Everyone took care of him, raised him. He was the only kid in the tower.

He might even be the youngest living being in all of New York at this point.

His favorite people to visit and hang out with were Steve and Bucky. They had been walking their new puppy Goldie when the world ended.

They had been married for ten years before. They celebrated their twenty year anniversary a couple years back. Goldie was almost eleven, and didn't like playing as much with Peter -though she still liked to sit with him in the living room when he tinkered with old tech.

Natasha and Clint worked on the ground, so Peter didn't see them much. They could fight a whole swarm of monsters and not get bit. They were the best.

Bruce and Aunt May tended to the garden under their watchful eye. Steve, Bucky and Sam took care of the livestock.

Its strange. The zombies leave animals alone. They only go after people.

Tony, Bucky and Clint go scouting a lot. They run the city, looking for any survivors, or anything the tower could use.

The tower is self-sufficient thanks to Tony's genius. He'd been working on making the entire tower self-sustaining even before the outbreak.

He's only managed to get the top three floors. The rest of the tower has no electricity or running water. That's fine though. Theres not many of them left, and three floors is plenty of space.

The living area is the penthouse. They eat, sleep and breathe there. The second floor down holds all of Tony's old tech, and projects in the works. The third floor down is the weapons and medicine floor.

Peter is on the second floor when the scouting party comes back. He only knows this because of the AI Tony created tells all three floors when people come or go.

Peter sets down his tools and rushes for the staircase. He sails down them and opens the door bodily, nearly falling flat on his face.

"You're back," Peter called, running down the short hallway to the ammunition room. Clint, Bucky and Tony are all unloading their haul and their weapons.

Clint's weapon of choice is a bow and arrow, as well as a long range rifle -he's the eyes, always taking out zombies before they get close enough to spot them.

Bucky is unloading his knives and pistols. Hes best at close combat.

Peter jumps onto the table, watching as Tony checks the magazine of his .9mm, then settle it back into the holster on his thigh.

"How was it," Peter asked, eyeing the two duffle bags on the table, surrounded by magazine clips and disassembled weaponry.

"We made it all the way to the hospital this time," Bucky grinned. Peter's eyes widened. They don't get to the hospital that often, since its clear on the other side of the city, and usually swarming with zombies.

They don't need to go on medical runs much anyway, but Tony likes to keep stocked in case.

"And we hit the motherload," Clint grinned, unzipping one of the bags and revealing canned food from vegetables to soup, the labels all sun bleached and color faded.

"Whoa." Peter reached in, pulling out an old Cambells can, looking at the faded red and white label. He can barely make out the words. "Tomato soup!"

"Thats not all," Bucky hummed. Peter looked up just as Bucky reached into his back pocket.

Peter sets the can down and his eyes widen when Bucky pulls out a deck of cards.

"No way!" Peter leaps off the table, snatching the cards.

"Its a full deck," Bucky grins proudly. Their current deck was a mix of two different cards, and cardboard and plastic pieces they'd drawn the suits and numbers on.

It made it hard to shuffle, and they all knew the suit and number of the makeshift cards. It made for a boring game.

Clint laughed and ruffled Peter's curls before grabbing the food and heading for the penthouse to restock their cupboards.

"Thanks, Bucky," Peter grinned, pulling the cards out of the brand new -but still sun faded- case. He's never seen cards this new before.

"Dont thank me, Tony's the one who spotted them," Bucky said, giving Peter a knowing grin before grabbing the medicine and heading for the medical wing.

Peter blushed, then turned to Tony -who wasn't there. He scowled and looked around in confusion. He didnt notice him leaving.

Peter quickly puts the cards back in the protective box and drops them into his cargo shorts pocket before running out of the room.

After raids, Tony usually likes to spend time with his old tech -projects he'll never be able to complete, in a workshop he'll probably never get rid of.

He finds Tony at one of the work benches, fiddling with something Peter -to this day- can't figure out what it is.

"Hey," Peter said, walking over to him and sitting down on the stool at the end of the bench. Tony glances up and gives a small smile.

"Thanks for the cards," Peter continued, picking at his nails and looking down at his lap. "Bucky said you got them for me."

"You're welcome, kid," Tony hummed, eyes focused on a project he'll never finish. Peter thinks it makes Tony feel better. Makes him feel like he's back to before the virus, when he was making things all the time and helping people.

All he's got now are old robots that break down more often than they run, and dust over most of the place he used to call home.

All Tony has is JARVIS and the others, but Peter sometimes gets the feeling that that sometimes isn't enough for Tony.

The two sit in silence for a while, Tony hard at work, and Peter deep in thought.

"Hey Tony?"

Tony hums.

"Whats it like dating?" Peter says it fast, worried he'll lose his nerve and chicken out. Tony stops his fiddling and looks over, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you asking for dating advice?" Tony asked. Peter can't meat his eyes when he nods and Tony sets his tools down. "Who's the lucky person you're crushing on? Anyone I know?"

"You know everyone I do, Tony," Peter huffs. Tony crosses his arms and smirks, amused. Peter hunches his shoulders.

"Who is it?" Tony asks.

Peter takes a deep breath. He's gotta just come right out and say it. If he doesn't, he'll never do it and then it'll be too late.

"You," he breathes. Its quiet. Peter's hands sweat. This was a bad idea.

"Pete," Tony sighs. Peter manages to look up. Tony looks pained, regretful. Its not the look Peter wanted to see. "I'm too old for you."

"So?" Peter finds himself asking.

"So, you should be dating people your own age."

"Do you know of any other seventeen year olds running around?" Peter asked, waving his hand around dejectedly.

"There's always a chance-"

"Please don't," Peter interrupts. "Please? Its been twelve years. No ones come looking for us, you haven't found anyone during your raids. Its just us."

Tony opens his mouth to speak, but Peter's on a roll now, and he can't stop even if he wanted to.

"And don't say to wait. I've been waiting. For all we know we're the last people on earth not a zombie, and I want- I want to have my first kiss before I'm forty."

"Peter-"

"I want to experience things," Peter continues, steamrolling over Tony. "I want to go outside, and I want to have a boyfriend and I want to have sex-"

"Kid-"

"Please, Tony," Peter said. "I like you, and- and I don't want to experience this with anyone else in the tower, and I don't want to wait for the point one percent chance of someone my age coming along."

"Listen, kid," Tony sighs.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Tony," Peter said, sounding desperate. He looks at Tony with wide eyes, begging for the older man to understand.

Tony -hell, everyone in the tower- had a life before the virus. They got to experience the world. Peter hadnt.

Its all he wanted. He wanted a normal life. A life he was robbed of. He's desperate for it.

Tony doesn't say anything. He looks at Peter, calculating. Peter sees his shoulders begin to slump, and finally he breaks. Peter feels a little giddy at the thought of getting his way, though he remains put.

"No," Tony said on a sigh. "I suppose you're not."

Peter doesn't know whatto say after that. He's made his case, there's nothing more to say.

"Its hard," Tony said after a while. "I still think of you as a kid. I still think you're ten."

Peter chews on his lower lip, head dipped down and shoulders hunched in on themselves.

"So you don't like me back?" He managed to ask, even as his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

"Kid-" he sighs. "Peter."

Tony settles a hand on Peter's shoulder, and Peter looks up at him.

"I like you," he says. Peter feels himself beginning to smile and quickly clamps that down, biting his lip. "God knows this situation isn't ideal. This would've been bordering on illegal, before."

"If you're uncomfortable, I understand," Peter said. Tony shakes his head.

"Thats not what I'm saying, Pete."

Peter didn't know what he was saying then.

"If we're going to try this out, there's gotta be rules," Tony continued. Peter looked back up at him.

"First rule is there's no hiding it. If we're gonna date, everyone knows about it or its not happening."

"Okay," Peter nodded.

"And we're taking this slow," Tony adds. "Like, cold honey slow, got it?"

"Got it," Peter nodded. His smile is getting too wide to hide. Tony's hand squeezes his shoulder.

"Good."

He removes his hand from Peter's shoulder. He gives Peter a small smile back.

"Could- is kissing going too fast?" Peter asks. Tony's smile grows a little, and he shakes his head.

"No, its not too fast."

The older man leans forward and Peter eagerly closes the distance between them.

The kiss is close lipped, and their noses press against each other, but its perfect.

#marvel #peter parker #tony stark #starker #ao3 #sfsummerbingo21 #my writing

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ashistrashhh · 4 years

Text

here are some fic recs!! including sakuatsu, bokuaka, kuroken and matsuhana bc i couldnt help myself

if you want, ask me about a certain ship and ill give you some recs!

-sakuatsu-

Marble and Sandstone by red_camellia

rating: G words: 12,937 chapters: 2/2

author summary: Miya Atsumu only cares about volleyball and nothing else. That is, until he develops a strange obsession with the marble statue of a young man that seems vaguely familiar in his university's arts department. One day that statue comes alive as the very real Sakusa Kiyoomi, and they are left with the mystery of why Sakusa Kiyoomi was turned into a statue and only came back to life when Atsumu touched him. Their new-found connection and the strange mystery turns Atsumu's life upside down, not least because of his growing feelings for Sakusa.

my notes: this was a rlly cute fic!!! 11/10 would read again!!

let it go (paint my body gold) by lunarism

rating: T words: 3,272 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It becomes a routine for them. Sometimes they go grocery shopping and make dinner together, other times they end up talking until Sakusa feels like his own shower and bed is calling him. Every single time Sakusa gets home, shrugs his coat off, balls it up, and proceeds to scream profusely into the fabric for a few minutes.

my notes: pining!!! sakusa!!! also casual painter!atsumu!!! and they paint together!!!

craft a miracle with these hands, lips, (silence) by chrysanthe (sonderesque)

rating: T words: 4,252 chapters: 1/1

author summary: ‘Someone is here to ruin your night,’ his door tells him. ‘You should let them in.’ “I’M HOMELESS OMI-OMI. HOMELESS,” yells the one here to ruin his night. “LET ME IN.”

(What does Kiyoomi sell his sanctuary for?)

my notes: hnnn rlly fuckin cute,, and domestic,,,,

Clipped To You by littleboat

rating: T words: 8,174 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It starts with Hinata Natsu, of all people.

Well, if Atsumu’s being honest with himself, it started way before that, but he’s not, so that’s besides the point. And thankfully, he’s just petty enough to blame all of his problems on a thirteen year old girl.

or Sakusa starts wearing hair clips and Atsumu is more than a little obsessed

my notes: minor kagehina, bokuaka // god these fics rlly make me simp for fictional characters even more than i should. but!! sakusa!!! in hairclips!!! and a pining atsumu!!!

learn how to lay me down in something other than danger, other than fury by rosevtea

words: 34,211 chapters: 1/1

author summary: All of the ways fellow college TA Miya Atsumu reinvents Kiyoomi's definition of normal.

my notes: god i loved this. it’s a fake dating au and like,, even though they’re “dating” sakusa keeps letting his guard down little by little around atsumu and it surprises everyone. komori and akaashi just know that they’re were genuinely pining for eachother

among probabilities and a thousand fates by aalphard

rating: T words: 15,675 chapters: 1/1

author summary: prompt fill for “in a world where the red string of fate exists, person a’s finger always twitches when person b, who can see the string, tugs on their string” | or sakusa thought he had a tic and atsumu liked to see his confused expression when it started to happen exclusively when he was around.

my notes: i! loved! it!! so basically atsumu and osamu have the rare gift of seeing the red string of fate, so they know its real but sakusa, like most other people dont believe it exists. so atsumu gives sakusa a (kinda) hard time. rlly cute!! i love soulmate aus!

-bokuaka-

love in the time of wifi by dalyeau

rating: G words: 4,177 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Akaashi is coming to terms with the fact that he might be romantically interested in his volleyball captain. Hence, doing what any sixteen year old with a problem should do. He asks about it online.

my notes: really cute fic about akaashi asking what he should do about his crush on a site similar to reddit. its kinda a “i didnt know it was you” kind of fic and it made me happy

steam by orphan_account

rating: E words: 8,474 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

bokuto: why is he so hot bokuto: why am i so gay kuroo: LMAO you mean your vice captain right bokuto: yeah

The coach blew the whistle for practice to begin, and Bokuto drummed his fingers against the bleachers, awaiting Kuroo’s reply. He was about to walk away, when his phone buzzed in his hand.kuroo: i got this bro bokuto: what bokuto: wtf does that mean

Bokuto started to panic.

my notes: explicit!!! but really wholesome. kuroo is honestly the best wingman. i also think this is my favourite bokuaka smutfic??

just to miss the sun by rosevtea

rating: T words: 15,126 chapters:1/1

author summary: Everything begins to implode when MSBY Jackals outside hitter Bokuto Koutarou crashes Akaashi's livestream.

my notes: akaashi is a booktuber and bokuto crashes one of his streams. fans begin to speculate. rlly fluffy and can u tell i like bokuaka

brain fish by iceblinks

rating: T words: 12,026 chapters: 6/6

author summary: Akaashi wakes up to a string of texts from an unknown number.

my notes: i love text fics and i love wrong number aus so u can tell how much i loved this. really fluffy and i come back to it time to time

-kuroken-

us three by honey_s

rating: T words: 5,137 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo’s gaze flits over to the utensil. His eyes bulge out of his skull. “Wh—is that a meat hammer? Put it back!” Akaashi’s head recoils back in confusion. “I don’t understand the problem here.” “Why on Earth have you got a fucking meat hammer? We aren’t going to kill somebody!” “Well,” Akaashi begins, clearly taken aback, “I apologise for assuming. I had heard Kenma-san had been hurt in school and after getting a message from both of you to meet late at night, I merely filled in the blanks and assumed we were going to beat someone up, for lack of a better term.” “Not literally! I meant metaphorically, or figuratively, or something!” “Idiomically?” “That isn’t a word, Bokuto-san.” “Jesus Christ,” Kuroo groans, dropping his head into his hands. “We're going to jail."

my notes: bokuaka and kuroo are ready to beat someone up for kenma!! and we stan!!

Cherry Pits and Cat Tattoos by strawberryriver

rating: G words: 6,141 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

Kuroo has been in communication with his soulmate ever since they were kids. They've known each other for so long that he never really worried about when or how he would meet them. At least, not until he meets the roommate of Bokuto's soulmate.Soulmate AU in which things written on your skin show up on your soulmate. Companion piece/same AU as Serendipty

--------------------

Kuroo Tetsurou liked to write on his arms. Despite his mother's half-serious warnings about “ink poisoning” or staining his skin, he insisted on marking his arms and legs wherever he could. Not like his best-friend-since-always Bokuto Koutaro, who had to write on his arms or he’d forget to breathe, but artfully. He’d draw designs, animals, the occasional chemical compound. The whole idea behind soulmates fascinated him: how one person could mark their arm and someone potentially thousands of miles away, would have that same mark appear. The amount of articles, studies, and books he’d read about the topic, even at a young age, could put an undergrad researcher to shame.

my notes: again with the soulmate au bc i cannot help myself. but really cute!!! probably gonna read this again later!

Boom, Toasted by protostar (hearthope)

rated: T words: 6,782 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

FROM: yuuji any bets on who hes texting??

FROM: eita He's smiling at his phone. Kuroo, probably

FROM: kentarou Kuroo

TO: fake family Have any of you ever once considered not prying

FROM: eita You deserve it

FROM: yuuji how can we not when ur in love!!

Kenma gets a text from an unknown number. He'd be lying if he said the guy behind it wasn't kind of endearing.

my notes: again, i love wrong number texts. it focuses more on kenma’s friendship, but kenma’s pov with texting kuroo is more than him realizing feelings and stuff. really cute, ive read it multiple times.

Japan's most subscribed by NeverNothing

rating: T words: 3,631 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo Tetsurou @blacktetsurou changed his bio : volleyball player, co-owner of Bouncing Ball Corp. and so much more ;)

my notes: i! love! social media! fics!!! really cute and basically people wondering who the mysterious kuroo is to applepi.

MATSUHANA!!! the underrated gem

texting (with a capital S) by parenthetic

rating: M words: 2,119 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Hanamaki breaks his No Texting In Class rule, and it's all downhill from there.

my notes: honestly more funny than it suggests, but its matsuhana, they’re meme lords.

rated m for by orphan_account

rated: T words: 10,692 chapters: 1/1

author summary: He should have known that there was a Specific Reason™ why it was so absolutely vital that he and Matsukawa specifically meet for a reading of the script. He should have known that there had to be some evil catch beyond sitting in a tiny, cramped studio with his newly sworn enemy.

Hanamaki stares at the title of the script he’d so gracefully neglected the night before.

FORBIDDEN PARADISE

“Excuse me,” Hanamaki starts, raising a pen in the air while staring blankly at the packet in his free hand. “Just to clarify, you want me to record a boy's love CD with Matsukawa?”

my notes: a very good voice actor au. there is some misunderstanding on hanamaki’s part bc he didnt finish listening to matsukawa, and this is really cute and i love matsuhana.

In A Quiet Night, All Sounds Carry by levyovochka

rating: E words: 4,794 chapters: 1/1

authors summary: “Ah, ah, Too—!”

Hanamaki hates his university dorm.

“—ru, let me cum, please!”

Hold up. That’s a fucking understatement. Let him rephrase it: Hanamaki loathes his university dorm with passion. Detest the damned abomination, abhors it—

“—ru! Coming, coming—”

It has only been a month and Hanamaki already wants to die.

my notes: as u can guess minor iwaoi // rlly well written and bottom hanamaki rights and maybe my favourite matsuhana smutfic??? and hooh boy i simp for matsukawa

call me maybe by totooru

rating: T words: 33,689 chapters: 14/14

author summary: Hanamaki texts the wrong number when trying to extort tips out of Oikawa in order to defeat Iwaizumi in arm wrestling, and then continues to text the witty stranger who had answered.

my notes: minor iwaoi, daisuga, bokuaka // god i think this is my favourite matsuhana fic overall, maybe in general, but my god is it great. this is probably a common rec, but its understandable as to why it is. basically au where makki texts matsun (who goes to karasuno) instead of oikawa for tips to beat iwaizumi at an arm wrestling match. but they keep messaging. and holy shit i love their conversations. please read this, it is 256/10

there we go!! i might go a part two with more ships (kagehina, tsukkiyama and iwaoi) but this took up way to much time lol. i have an essay due in a couple hours. but hope u like these fics as much as i do!!

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terrminallycapricious · 3 years

Text

Gamzee: Get rid of her.

Gram was surprised he even slept for a single hour. Waking up, he didnt want to waste any time. He fed the dogs, fed the snake, fed the kitten. Got this and that done in the house, before getting ready to go to Alternia once again.

Can't be too careful, so he slips on full protective clothing. Nothing heavy, or anything. Just to cover his exposed skin enough, except his head. The sun wasn't up, that wasn't the issue, here. Though, he wishes he had some bulletproof vests or something. Oh, well. The boots are the last to go on, and he's out to the transportalizer, putting in the coordinates, and appearing in the nearest port closest to the palace.

Stepping off and making his way closer, his heart starts to race, knowing what hes going to be doing. Luckily, things don't seem horribly busy, but a few trolls keep noticing him and talking amongst themselves, pointing. The Empress may be alerted before he even goes there, not like she would hide, though. She has way too much pride to be hiding or stepping down in any way. Soon, that won't be even a thought.

Gram makes his way straight into the palace. Guards run up to him, not too many, but he is now in full focus. He shoves away guards, some he just ignores quick enough to not get hit or shot. He didn't want to wear himself down using his power already for just the guards, so hands are good enough. Some poor guards even suffer a large claw wound from him, which makes gram have to shake his hand off before entering the throneroom as quickly as possible. The clown runs straight in the large doors, kicking out the guards, punching them, tripping them, just so he can close the heavy doors and lock them. He had learned how when he was working under the Empress. So much gold on them, though. Was that reaaaaally a good idea? Anyway.

Once those are closed, there are about 6 guards in the room, and outside the other currently closed doors, and there she is, the Empress. She knows exactly who is here, she doesn't need to see him at all. She sits up a bit more, looking in the direction she hears him breathing in. "You came back?"

Gram glared at her, and spoke in a sarcastic tone. "Oh yeah, I missed ya real bad. Can't stay away."

He walked up toward her, which makes her guards stand in front of her throne. Stopping in front of them, he stares in their eyes, like needles he fries their eyes quickly with his power, just as similar to the empress, though they were easier, and they have a chance of healing. For now, they hold their faces, going to the small block in the palace through the side door, for medical emergencies. Since Gram's last incident, they thought to move all that much closer to the throneroom. The other guards step in now, though hesitant seeing what just happened, and seen others they work for get harmed by this clown. One of them steps back to where they were standing, the other comes up to Gram, then backs up again once he gives them a look.

"Thats fuckin right." he laughed.

The empress looked down in Gram's direction once again, having heard what just happened, but not bothering to step in to avoid those guards getting hurt. "Do you plan on killing me?" It was almost as if she had read his mind, maybe she did.

Gram glared again. "I don't know, how far can I get?"

Without letting her speak up, he starts up his chucklevoodoo once again. Going straight for the brain. She screams and grabs her head, and immediately kicks him down with her sharp heel. This knocks him down and makes it stop, grunting at the impact on the hard floor. Things start quickly. The other guards that were hesitating before, point their weapons at Gram. One shoots him in the same leg that he was shot in before, making the clown growl in pain. He got up, though, attacking the guard and knocking that gun out of his hand. He goes right for the guards neck, biting a chunk out of it and spitting it away. They were too in shock to bother to try to make it to the medical block, as they were bleeding out quickly.

"ANYONE ELSE WANT TO FUCKIN TRY M-"

He was cut short, not by a guard, but by the Empress, who kicked him down once again, aiming her trident right at his torso.

"You wont get very far, your friend is just going to have to come back to save you again. You already took my eyes from me, I wont let you finish the job, you filth."

Gram laughed and looks up the gold trident, and then at her face. Still with a smile, though he will admit he is afraid of getting hurt beyond repair, or at least, wont be repaired easily.

"Ya won't, 'cuz you dont know anyone else like me. I know you wanna use me for somethin, don't you? that would be a damn shame."

"You think I won't?"

"Yeah, no, that would be a bad fuckin idea."

"You haven't taken me down yet, and you wont. I can easily replace you. Goodbye, Gamzee."

He grabs her trident above the points, just right at the handle, and shoves it away, right as she stabs down toward him. This stabs into the floor, JUST right below his armpit. He lets out a goofy laugh, at just barely missing that. He rolls to the side immediately. She realizes she missed him and raises the trident toward where she can hear his footsteps.

"Havin trouble motherfucker? lemme fix that." Once again he aims his chucklevoodoo at her, with all he can put out, stronger than ever, driven by his adrenaline. She screams once again, grabbing and scratching at her own head. She tries to fight back once again which makes the pain worse, but it shoots back to gram. This makes him wince, but he doesnt stop. Not until she is down and not fighting. So much for taking her brain, hes sure it'll be like soup in there once hes done. She swings her trident and stabs wildly to get him to stop. A few times, her trident cut into his arm, his side, and one point of the trident even stabbed into his left shoulder. He grunted in pain, gritting his teeth together, but he still kept going. She finally fell after a while, unable to keep herself up from the pain. She couldn't fight back anymore, not after the damage from the first time that the others at the palace could not repair a hundred percent. The Empress did however have new bionic eyes being made, but now that won't matter.

Gram heard the other guards that were left in the room that didn't run off, coming at his back. Only two. His powers were still going hard, he looked away from the Empress only for a moment to knock those two down, which wasn't hard as they didn't expect it. Not the smartest guards you have here, Ma'am. He then turns back to her, continuing to fry her, coming toward her as he does, picking up her trident she was frantically reaching for after she fell. His eyes glowed brightly and he could feel his own eyes getting tired, his brain was wearing out. Now was a good time as any. he stepped beside her, and raised the trident high above her writhing body, and stabbed right into her heart as hard as possible, til it went all the way through and hit the hard floor. Once again she screamed, and lost her voice immediately. Clawing and grabbing at the trident, she tried pulling it out, with what life she had left. How could she let someone so easily take her down? It's all so pathetic, and embarrassing. She won the throne, she worked hard for it.

Gram pulled the trident out, and stabbed again, twice, into her mess of a heart. This finally silenced her. She writhed still a bit longer. Gram watched silently, stopping the chucklevoodoo. His new rainbow drinker DNA, was screaming hungry. This is what he's been preparing for. No time to think. He pulls the trident out, putting it in his sylladex, and drops to her freshly dead body. He bit right into her, drinking as much as his body could take. Gotta make SURE she is dead. If the other guards were still in the room, they're out now. Gram can hear them faintly panicking outside the doors, but all that's in his mind, is that she taste delicious. He goes at this for a while, until he is just about too full. Part of him comes in behind, and goes right for biting and chewing her flesh. Ripping it all to pieces, some he spits out in the bloody mess on the floor. What a messy eater.

She's unrecognizable at this point, and grams body feels like he's drunk. But his energy is high and happy. He laughed, sitting up and taking out a knife, cutting up what was left, taking bones, and putting them in the sylladex, one after another, until she looked like animals had gotten to her. He had also filled up a few bottles with the leftover blood, putting that away too. He stood up again, and by the time he did, he looked over, and there were terrified guards, and people who worked in the palace, staring at him. The news had gotten out already. He felt he had somehow intensely colorful tunnel vision toward them. But he didnt say anything to them, he just walked ahead to the side door, moving straight to where he knew the prison was. His own blood, and her blood and meat, dripping off of him. One thing he had in mind after he would be successful - Release the prisoners. He makes his way down, still having those keys he was given. What a fool Empress, never asking for those back. He took them out, and started releasing them, one by one. He didnt bother to speak, his mind was just on autopilot. He felt floaty, and he's just going to silently enjoy this til he can think clearer.

After maybe 30+ prisoners were let free, a lot less than last time due to some being sadly killed off, he scanned the area for more, then headed back up. It didn't seem like anyone was mad at Gram. Maybe scared. Some of the higher up people next to the Empress seem to have come out to the palace aswell. Gram tried to avoid them as quickly as possible. He will return soon, but for right now, no talking, just leave. He quickly finds the nearest port again, and puts in his coordinates, stepping on straight to home. He had just barely avoided those older trolls.

As soon as he was home, he laid right down on the floor in there. Just for a little while. God hes so full, and his head is spinning, not terribly though but it is. His body wants to get up and move around, do more, but it also wants to just lay here for a long time. Staying here is good. He'll treat those wounds later. Well done, Gamzee. You caused chaos on Alternia. Hopefully for the better. He has many plans for when he heads back, hopefully he wont be greeted with anything horrible. He was very very proud of himself, though. What's best? He didn't get horribly disfigured. Time to rest.

#blood /#guns /#gore /#blood consumption //#cannibalism //#violence //#ask to tag -#action -#narration --//#viewed ooc -#sorry its sloppy and not enough detail or speech. i couldve done more but my brain was getting tired sjdnfd))#but woo gram did it!!))

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orcinus-ocean · 5 years

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Zoos are frequently demonized in modern media and pop culture.

At worst, they are seen as cruel and degrading prisons for wildlife, where animals are abused and tormented for the sake of 'entertainment'.

At best, they are viewed as a necessary evil to keep endangered animals from going extinct, both as an "Ark" directly breeding animals, and as a fundraiser giving money to conservation work in the natural habitats of those animals, as well as giving the public direct contact with animals they would most likely never see alive.

But more and more, we hear phrases from zoo workers themselves, like;

"In a perfect world, zoos would not exist"

"It's not enough to keep animals in exhibits just for people to look at. There has to be a higher purpose." (Actual quote)

My question is: Why?

No one is demanding a higher purpose for us to keep dogs, cats, horses, cattle, pigs, rats, rabbits, even 'exotic' and non-domestic animals like snakes, parrots and aquarium fish.

As long as it's a 'typical' species owned as a pet, it seems it needs no justification (excluding livestock for food and clothing as that is an obvious 'higher purpose', even though not everyone likes it).

If someone wants to own any of those animals 'ust to look at it', almost no one will argue that there needs to be a 'higher purpose'.

"You can't just own a pet snake. You need to donate money to snake conservation, or you're a terrible human being!"

"You can't just walk your dog and rub its belly for your own enjoyment. You have to give to dog shelters, educate people on dogs and raise awareness of the hardships dogs face, or you're a hypocrite."

I have never heard anyone say anything even remotely like this.

Turn of the 20th century, polar bears at Belle Island Zoo.

There seems to be a common conception among the general public that zoos are still the bare 'prison cells' of the late 19th century to early 20th century, like the polar bear cage above.

Back then, the zoo owners and keepers were not trying to be cruel, they simply needed the enclosures to be practical and easy to clean, for the sake of the animals' hygiene and health.

No doubt they were ignorant about their animals' needs, compared to today, but they were not purposely cruel.

Bars look very bad to us, simply for being bars, bringing the mind to prisons. Bars were for keeping both animals and people safe, but they have in later decades been replaced by things like moats and glass, to make the zoo guests feel more comfortable looking at the animals (sometimes actually endangering animals and guests, when it makes it easier for guests to get inside the enclosure).

Still, no doubt, zoos have vastly improved in the past century, as much as (if not more than) our fields of modern healthcare and technology. Today's world is nothing like 1910, and the same is true for zoos.

The animal experts that work for zoos today, know so much more about diets, healthcare, enrichment, adequate enclosure size, material, and simply put, each species' needs to live a healthy and fulfilled life in an artificial environment.

Photos like these give the public the impression that these animals spend their entire lives in small, bare, prison-like enclosures.

...while in fact, they spend most of their time in large habitats like these, and the small enclosures are just night quarters for care and safety, just like a dog crate, a horse stall, or a child's bedroom.

"We don't lock people in unless they're criminals", some say.

First, I don't know any modern zoo that resembles any prison I've ever seen.

Second, we lock our pets in. We lock children in. Many animals can be roughly compared to a two year old child, in awareness and understanding of our world. Would you let a two year-old roam the streets at night, free to come and go as he wished? Of course not. He would get himself badly hurt or killed. Add to that a two year old that is potentially very dangerous to the public, like a lion or elephant.

This is something not many seem to consider, but pet owners have absolutely no business criticizing zoos. Or people who eat meat, or consume products that exploit or harm animals in any way (this includes vegans, as it is simply impossible to live in modern society and avoid engaging in industries that exploit or harm animals).

As a pet owner, whether your pet is a dog, cat, rabbit, budgie, goldfish, ferret, snake, or anything else, you are confining that animal. You are giving it an 'unnatural' existence. Exotic species like budgies and snakes recently came from the wild, and have barely changed - if at all - from their wild ancestors. It is impossible to replicate their natural habitat in a home.

If it is a domestic animal, like a dog or a rabbit, the only way it has changed from its wild ancestors, is being less afraid, more amenable to handling, making it easier to have loose in the house (dogs and cats), and their appearance being changed slightly.

It is still the same animal, with the same needs as its wild ancestors.

If you own pets like this rabbit, you have no ground whatsoever on which to criticize modern zoos.

And even if you live in a mansion where your little toy poodle has the run of the house - that is a confined animal in an unnatural existence.

There is nothing inherently wrong with this, at all.

I'm sure that little toy poodle gets plenty of exercise, company, great food and fresh water, and its mind is properly stimulated. I'm sure that little dog would rather live there, warm and comfortable with a roof over its head, than out in the forest, at the mercy of the elements and its own hunting skills.

I'm sure a snake has an easier life in a terrarium, its environment always controlled to the perfect temperature and humidity, and never having to go hungry or thirsty, let alone worry about being eaten itself.

Pets, when cared for by good owners who truly take the time to find out how to best care for their animals, have in general very good lives. Better than they would in the wild, or a 'natural' existence.

The same is true for zoos.

The animals don't have an endless wilderness to roam - because they don't need to.

Animals only need enough space to stimulate them physically and mentally, and get 'personal space' from other animals, if there are many of them, to avoid conflict.

They only roam vast areas in the wild to find enough food, and for some, to avoid predators.

In the wild, they have to struggle to find food, starve if they can't, fight for mates, fight with or live under constant stress from fleeing from predators or rivals, be exposed to nature and its elements, have to fight off disease and parasites, and almost always die young.

In modern zoos, they always have the perfect diet prescribed by experts of the species, readily available. They never have to risk bodily injury just to find food or mate. They never have to worry about being hunted. They never have to worry about finding a safe place to rest, or dying from exposure. They never have to worry about parasites.

If they get sick, a team of top veterinarians and animal care staff who have trained all their adult lives for this exact purpose, are right there to help comfort and heal the animal.

And when some zoo animals die young, it is either due to congenital conditions that no one could help, wherever the animal lived, or it was euthanized. Killed quickly and painlessly.

Killer whale at SeaWorld San Diego

Why would someone need to justify that?

Keeping animals in the equivalent of 5-star hotels, free for a lifetime, is not something you should lower yourself to have to 'justify'.

The claim is that "zoos need to exist only to save animals from extinction. If wildlife was completely safe, zoos would be pointless".

It is true that zoos play an important role in conservation. It is true that if you have the power, like the money zoos are making, and the outreach they have through their guests, it is moral and right of you to do something to help.

A zoo that did nothing but exist, would not necessarily be very 'noble'.

But the point of this article is that they don't have to. It is not an automatic obligation, anymore than you as a dog owner are obliged to give to dog shelters, just because you have extra money, or educate people on the street petting your dog, about dogs. And that if you didn't do this, you would have no right to keep a dog 'imprisoned'.

Maybe you just want to have a dog?

And maybe someone just wants to have their animal collection, and let paying visitors come and look at it?

That is how zoos started. Wealthy and powerful people have kept exotic animal menageries for thousands of years. It was only in the middle of the 19th century that the public zoo was created, where the public was allowed to view these menageries, of course for a fee which helps pay for the upkeep of the animals.

What zoos are doing, when they try to justify themselves, is telling the public "our critics are completely right. Everything they say about zoos being 'horrible animal prisons', is right. We wish zoos didn't exist, but we are a necessary evil. Please just let us exist a little while longer, then we will go away, when we no longer need to abuse animals for conservation."

That is what one hears, when these zoo workers are essentially apologizing for their work existing.

As long as zoos aren't doing anything to harm wildlife, by removing animals from the wild without giving anything back to the wild populations, or by mistreating the animals in their care, they don't have to justify a thing.

#zoos #pro zoo #anti zoo #animal rights #my articles

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dovechim · 6 years

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good boy, chimmy (m)

➾ werewolf jimin x reader

➾ 4.3k

➾ a series of drabbles for the dark side of the moon

➾ warnings: pregnancy sex, facefucking, oral sex, cumplay, slight degradation, dom!wolf jimin... slight crack.

➾ summary: jimin turns himself into his wolf form just as your parents are over to visit. hilarity ensues

➾ a/n: it’s been a year since dark side came out. i wanted to thank you all for giving me so much love and support and continue my tradition of a jimin fic on my birthday. i dont like birthdays much, so i thought i’d spend it writing a gift for all of you whom i love and treasure so much. thank you for making me feel less lonely.

on this day forth, it shall be a good day! love, addie

“Oh my god, you are so whipped for her. So. Fucking. Whipped.” Taehyung can’t stop himself from laughing as he plops down on the sofa. “You stopped eating raw meat because it makes her throw up? How do you even live?”

Jimin rushes to put his hands over your belly and shoot him an irritated glare. “Language! They hear everything. If my children start swearing instead of crying the moment they come out, it’ll be on your head. And I’m not sure I can stop myself from tearing into you-“

“Enough, oh my god,” you brush Jimin’s hands away and peel your shirt away from your body. These days it seems as if your body temperature is always sky rocketing; you’re always covered in sweat and wishing you were wearing less clothes. As a result your temper has been shorter than usual, and the thought of having at least 9 months to go makes you want to throw up.

Would your gestation period be longer or shorter since you fucked a werewolf? How many of Jimin’s bastard babies are in your stomach right now? What is the most painful way you can make him suffer for landing you in this state?

It’s safe to say that the tables have turned now. More often than not Jimin finds himself tiptoeing around you, the alpha in him strangely subdued and content just to submit to whatever your heart desires. Running back and forth to get you late night cravings of fries and ice cream, cutting out raw meat from his diet altogether, and even making sure he showers twice before coming back from a hunt so that he doesn’t reek of blood and animal remains.

“Don’t provoke him, you know how he gets when he’s all pissy,” you warn Taehyung as you push yourself to your feet. “And you guys need to leave. I appreciate all the help, but my parents will be here in less than 10 minutes, and…”

“Can I touch?” Jungkook looks up at you with those sparkly doe eyes of his, hands hovering over your still flat belly. Granted, the punk has more manners than most, asking for permission is more than you expected of him. He looks entirely fascinated with your pregnant state, even though it hasn’t progressed enough for there to be any visible changes yet.

“Sure, go ahead,” you sigh, and Jungkook gently places his palm over where he thinks your womb is. You have to put your hand over his and move it from your ribs down to your lower belly, barely biting back a giggle.

“Hmm… doesn’t seem like there are too many in here,” he remarks. “If you’d let me do the job, I’m sure you’d be showing by now. And I’ll make sure to give you at least triplets, at least… I was thinking maybe eight?”

Jimin snarls a warning in his throat, and you glance over at him warily, silently bidding him to stand down. Jungkook is not a threat, he’s just insubordinate and a rude little punk who doesn’t know better.

“Thank God I didn’t pick you,” you roll your eyes, pushing his hand away when you decided you’ve had enough of him. “I’m not sure I could survive that ordeal.”

“Which one? The baby making or the giving birth?” Jungkook grins cheekily, and this time Jimin really lunges across the room for the youngest, bicep tight against his throat and teeth bared.

Children. You’re living with a bunch of children.

Checking your watch, you realise you really don’t have much time left to let them roughhouse with each other like this. Clearing your throat loudly, you manage to slide your body in between the two males, and it works because they are hyper aware of your state. These days they all treat you like you’re as fragile as glass, and you can’t say you appreciate being coddled and drooled all over by three large dogs, but you know when to use it to your advantage. Jimin and Jungkook immediately freeze, eyes immediately on you to make sure that they don’t accidentally hurt you.

“We can continue this another time, okay?” You bury your hand into Jungkook’s collar and push your chin toward the door, glancing at Taehyung for a little help. “Taehyung? Would you like to be of assistance, please?”

The older man immediately jogs over to sling an arm around Jungkook’s neck, and then they wrestle each other out the door. You breathe a sigh of relief and turn back to Jimin, only to realise-

The cute, endearing and sometimes bratty Park Jimin is gone, and in his place is a large silver wolf.

“Oh my god, Jimin, wh-“ You press a hand to your mouth to stifle your alarm, knowing full well that high pitched tones don’t sit well with werewolves. You have no doubt that Jimin would never hurt you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hurt himself. “Why did you change?”

The silver wolf only shakes his head and grunts in annoyance, pacing around the living room in a manner that conveys his thoughts just as clearly as if he’d spoken. His muscles are rippling with pent up aggression as he moves around the room at a rapid pace, fur rustling in the breeze of his own making.

That stupid bastard Jeon Jungkook. I swear I’ll rip his throat to pieces one of these days…

You sink down onto the sofa with a sigh, massaging your temple. Jimin immediately comes over and presses his nose to your face in concern, his wet nose making you grimace as he sniffs your neck. Jimin busies himself with checking you all over to make sure that you’re alright, anger from a few moments ago forgotten. He sits quietly at your feet, one large paw resting gently on your knee as his gunmetal eyes focus on you intently.

“This isn’t funny, Jimin. Change back now. My parents will be here anytime soon. So you need to get your anger under control, or else-“

Then, the unimaginable happens. The doorbell rings.

Jimin’s ears perk up immediately, and he beings bounding around the room in great strides. He is clearly panicking, and this is not helping things. He won’t be able to change back into his human form if he’s emotionally distressed, and your parents are right outside the door. He stops in the middle of the room and turns to you, eyes wide and you can see the very real, very human look of panic in his wolfish eyes.

What should I do now?

“J-just stay there. Sit. Sit like a good boy.” You raise a stern finger to him. Normally Jimin would have you over his knee and give you the spanking of your life for daring to treat him like a common household pet, but even this time he recognises that he’s in the wrong. He dips his head guiltily, eyes occasionally darting up to catch a glimpse of you.

You turn your back to him and head over to the door, opening it just a crack.

“Oh our lovely daughter!!!! We missed you so much, let me see your belly!” Your mom squeals immediately, pushing the door open wider so that she can see your entire frame. “You’ve grown so much bigger since the last photo you sent us!”

Your dad stands behind her with a pleased smile, watching as you’re engulfed into a hug.

“Um actually… I haven’t started showing yet,” you mumble into your mom’s hair, but it goes ignored as she fusses over whether you’re wearing warm enough clothing, whether you’re eating enough, things like that. To stop her from going on her tirade, you invite them both to come in with a strained smile.

“Oh of course! I brought some side dishes. And I’ll cook dinner tonight, so you just sit back and relax- OH MY GOD!!!!!!! WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT THING?”

You wince and resist the urge to cover your ears. Following your mom’s line of sight, you see Park Jimin sitting quietly in his wolf form, ears laid back in submission and clear, lurid eyes following your every move. Your eyes linger on the huge wolf for a second, begging him silently to be on his best behaviour, and as if reading your thoughts, Jimin puts his head on his front paws, wagging his tail ever so slightly in what he thinks is a good imitation of a real dog.

“It’s… um… it’s just… my dog!” You laugh nervously, patting your mom’s shoulder. “I didn’t tell you? I adopted a dog! His name is… he’s Chimmy.”

“God, honey no! That’s not a dog, it’s… it’s… it’s MASSIVE!” Your mom backs away from Jimin, her eyes wide as she glances at your dad. “Tell me that isn’t a dog. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

Jimin makes a small whining noise in the back of his throat as he blinks at you. You immediately rush over to cradle his large head in your arms, sinking into his thick fur as you press a kiss to the top of his head. “You hurt his feelings! Isn’t that right, Chim? Good boy, good dog.” You scratch him under the chin and behind the ear, and Jimin closes his eyes in pleasure.

He pushes his nose into your neck, scenting you like he always does. Your smell always helps to keep him calm, and Jimin can’t take any chances of not being on his best behaviour, especially when your parents are around. Jimin extends his tongue to lick all over your face, following his instincts to try and lick the inside of your mouth and cover you in wet dog kisses to show you just how much he loves you.

Unfortunately you don’t care much for the smell of his breath, and you push his head away, making Jimin whine.

Your dad approaches carefully, eyeing Jimin’s massive paws and the muscles that ripple under his thick silver coat. Reaching out a hand, he touches Jimin’s shoulder cautiously, and his hand sinks into the thick luxurious fur. “He’s big, isn’t he? He’s almost the size of this entire sofa!”

“Um, well… he’s kinda of the leader of his pack. That’s why,” you watch your dad stroke Jimin’s back and resist the urge to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. What a sight to see your father actually stroking your husband on the back like this. This is a secret you’ll have to take to your grave. “Sometimes he can be a little bit bossy, but he just wants to protect me, that’s all.”

Jimin buries his head in your chest and sniffs in mock hurt.

“They don’t like to be looked at when they’re getting pets,” you explain. “But he’s like a lap dog. He just wants all the pets in the world.”

“Well, your mother has never been good with dogs,” your dad comments, giving Jimin a few scratches behind his ear before he stands. “Good lord. I think he’s big enough to carry you on his back, isn’t he?”

“He is,” you smile fondly at Jimin, who is lavishing in the abundance of praise, eyes dancing with mirth. “He’s also a stubborn brat when it counts.”

“Where’s Jimin anyway?” Your mother questions, looking around for your husband. “I was looking forward to seeing him. That man. So handsome. Your babies will be absolutely gorgeous!”

At the mention of his name, Jimin perks up and sits straight, ears pricked and tail wagging, obviously over the moon after hearing your mother praise him to the heavens. You have to dig a hand into the scruff of his neck to remind him what form he’s currently in right now.

“He’s um… he just… he’s in his study taking a conference call,” you hastily make up an excuse. “It was last minute, so he told us to go eat without him.”

“Oh. I guess I’ll get started on dinner,” your mother shrugs and turns to head for the kitchen. “You just put your feet up and rest. I don’t want to see you on your feet for longer than necessary, young woman!”

Jimin barks softly as if to agree, nudging you with his nose in order to get you to sit down, lying down at your feet to cushion them with his soft fur.

Your father takes a seat next to you and reaches to turn on the television, but you have a better idea. A sly smirk spreads across your face as you smooch at Jimin to get his attention. Take this as pay back for all those times he’s ever thought he was the boss of this household. This should knock that stupid alpha pride of his down a peg or two.

“Chimmy, you wanna show us some tricks? Hmmm? Good boy, you’re such a smart little dog aren’t you?” You grin, reaching out your hand to Jimin as he sniffs at you in distaste, turning his head away.

“What kind of tricks can he do?” Your father is interested now, turning his attention to watch as Jimin sulks moodily.

“All sorts of things! He can roll over, for one. Chimmy, roll over! Show me your cute little tummy!” You nudge Jimin with your leg, and he glances at you with annoyance that’s plain as day. “Roll over now!”

Reluctantly Jimin flips over onto his belly, sending you a glare and resisting the urge to bare his teeth at you. When his silver russet belly is exposed, you coo in delight and rub his soft fur, and as annoyed as he is right now, Jimin can’t help but close his eyes in pleasure, enjoying your touch on his skin. Before he realises that he’s submitting to you like some commoneplace house dog, and-!

Jimin flips back upright again, huffing to himself.

“Ah, he’s a bit fussy sometimes. But he can do more too!” You grin and stretch out your hand. “Chimmy, shake!”

Your father is looking at him expectantly, and Jimin sighs to himself as he heaves a large paw onto your hand, allowing you to vigorously shake it up and down. You are laughing in delight, clapping your hands and praising him for being a good boy. Jimin may have a praise kink alright, but this is most certainlynotwhat he wants.

Annoyed, Jimin heaves himself to his feet to walk away.

“Chimmy, where are you going? Don’t you want to play fetch?”

A low rumble emits from his chest. Fetch. What an utterly humiliating game. For the life of him, Jimin can’t understand why anyone would want to lower themselves like that. Only dogs, being the happy go lucky fools that they are would think it was fun. Wolves, on the other hand, are far more regal, far too majestic to even contemplate such an activity. Running back and forth like some kind of idiot, falling for that age old trick of pretending to throw the ball only to realise that it hadn’t been thrown at all.

Jimin would much rather die than play fetch. It’s far beneath his dignity.

“He loves it, it’s his favourite game,” you’re saying to your father, picking up a slipper from your foot and tossing it across the room. “Fetch, Chimmy!”

The slipper flies past his head into the corner of the room, and Jimin ignores it entirely, opting instead to rest his head on his paws and close his eyes, praying for the night to pass quickly.

The second your parents are out the door, you turn to find Jimin completely naked, human once again, sitting in the dining room chair with his thighs spread apart. He’s not in a hurry to get dressed, rather, he is visibly fuming. His jaw is clenched, eyes are narrowed and cold, and he pushes his hair off his forehead with a careless hand.

Also, his cock is rapidly hardening under your gaze, and you feel a shiver of terror mixed with arousal run through your veins.

When he speaks, his voice is completely ice cold, a harsh tone that you recognise as his alpha’s voice. “You had fun today, didn’t you, princess?”

Swallowing nervously, you take a few steps towards him and reach for his shoulders to appease him, massaging his tense muscles. “Oh come on, it was just harmless fun. Need I remind you that it was you who decided to change in the first place-“

“I really don’t feel like listening to your excuses today,” Jimin sighs as he reaches down to stroke his cock, already leaking a clear fluid. “You know what happens to spoilt brats. Get down on your knees. Where you know you should be.”

His commanding tone immediately sends a jolt of arousal right down to your core, and you scramble to obey, shifting onto your knees in between his thighs.

“Show me your tongue,” Jimin demands, continuing to stroke himself leisurely.

You stick out your tongue for him, wiggling it mischievously, and he raises an unimpressed eyebrow at your semantics. Properly chided and a little ashamed, you fix your eyes on your alpha as your tongue readies itself to be nothing but a bed for his cock. Jimin tugs you forward by your hair so that his tip touches your lips, smearing his precum everywhere across your cheeks.

“Take a deep breath now, that’s the last time you’ll get to breathe properly for a while,” Jimin instructs as he taps his cock on your cheek a few times, each harder than the last.

Closing your eyes, you moan at the feeling of him slapping you with his cock. You take a deep breath and open your eyes again, offering up your mouth to be used by your alpha as Jimin smirks at your obedience. He pushes his cock into your mouth, not even giving you a second to adjust as he seeks the back of your throat immediately.

“Mmmm… good girl. Take it all. Take my cock like the naughty little slut you are. You dare make a fool out of your alpha? I’ll fuck your mouth so good you’ll forget your own name.” Jimin grips your throat tightly so that he can feel his own cock. “If you breathe, it’ll be because I allowed you to. If you cum, it’ll be because I made you. Is that clear, bitch?”

You blink twice and moan an agreement as best as you can, and Jimin strokes your sticky cheek in approval, releasing his grip on your throat. He begins to fuck your mouth with wild abandon, closing his eyes as his hips drive his cock down your throat with no mercy. Spit and precum are dripping down your chin, and tears are spilling out of your eyes, but you are loving every second of being used as a cocksleeve for your alpha. Your master, your one and only for as long as you live.

Jimin sinks his cock into your throat for a good five seconds, ignoring your little whines and pleas, and the way your nails dig into his inner thighs. He knows just how far he can push you. Always knows how much you can take, when to make you go that extra mile and withhold oxygen from you for just a few more seconds.

He pulls you off his cock by gripping your hair, and you gasp and sputter, tears rolling down your cheeks and feeling absolutely filthy with the mess that is coating your chin. Jimin pauses with his hand in your hair to admire how fucked out you already look.

“So beautiful. So beautiful, and all mine,” he whispers with a thumb on your lip. His voice has now softened, your punishment over, and he wipes your tears away gently. “Get on the table. I want to eat your pussy. Eat you out so good because you’re carrying my babies so well.”

He helps you with his hands on your waist, scooping you into his embrace and lifting you onto the table effortlessly, pulling down your shorts and underwear. From your point of view, Jimin looks absolutely breathtaking; chest and abdomen covered in a light sheen of sweat, narrow hips lodged in between your legs, his dripping cock twitching just for you. He places his hands on your inner thighs to spread them for him, fingers stroking your puffy lips as he gets down on his knees to worship you properly.

The first hit of his tongue has you crying out, and Jimin doesn’t waste time in toying with yout clit. Flat, rough licks have your breasts arching toward the ceiling, hips struggling in his grasp as he eats you like a man starved.

“You taste so fucking good baby,” Jimin slurps messily, part of his werewolf tendencies when he delves into his raw meats. “You look so fucking beautiful when you’re pregnant. Couldn’t have picked a better mate to carry my babies so well.” Your juices are all over his chin as he pushes his nose against your clit, tongue dipping into your entrance. “So much sweeter than before. I love eating your pregnant pussy.”

You feel his fingers tease at the edges of your lips, and you whine for him, pushing your hips towards him and demanding for more. Jimin flashes you a devious smirk, kissing your inner thigh before he gives you two fingers right up to the last knuckle, seeking out your sweet spot and making you clench tight around him as stars burst behind your eyes.

“God… you’re… oh god, so good, fuck,” you reach for him and kiss him sloppily on the chin before Jimin readjusts so that you get his lips instead. “Want more, want your cock, now, please.”

“Show me how much,” he demands, pushing your top up to pinch your nipples hard. “Touch yourself.”

You bring your hands up to cup your breasts for him, pinching your own nipples and wincing at the sharp pleasure. Your mouth hangs open sinfully, gasps and moans pouring out as Jimin bends to take one nipple into his own mouth, sucking harshly and occasionally introducing teeth.

“Can’t wait till you’re dripping milk from here,” Jimin pauses with your nipple in between his teeth. “Gonna look so beautiful. Leaking milk from your soft puffy nipples. I’ll lick every sweet drop.”

He detatches his mouth from your breasts, hands sliding down to circle your still slim waist. His fingers dance carefully over the still flat surface, but they still give you goosebumps as Jimin rubs his cock against your lower belly too, covering you with precum. He takes pleasure in leaving your belly all wet and sticky before pushing his cock towards your entrance, parting your lips with his blunt head. Before he can push inside you, Jimin leans down quickly and presses a kiss to your belly button.

“Thank you for carrying my babies,” he whispers against your skin before he thrusts in fully, and you clench around him delightfully, whimpering his name as his cock fucks into you, spreads you wide open.

Jimin doesn’t go as hard now as he did when he was trying to mate you. His thrusts are deep but not as fast, a slow, sensuous pace that tortures your nerves a bright red. The head of him hits your womb gently with every thrust, and Jimin lingers there for a moment, reminding you of how he got you pregnant in the first place, of how this womb now belongs to him, to sire his pups and carry his bloodline.

The aftershocks of your previous orgasm have now grown stronger and stronger, and your walls are quivering around his cock. Mouth wide open and panting his name, you claw at his back, legs wound tight around his hips to keep his cock buried deep in your cunt.

“Jimin, I want to cum again,” you demand with your lips against his neck. “So, so close, please. Want you to cum inside me too.”

Your alpha wraps his hands around your waist to pull you deeper onto his cock, his voice deep and reassuring. “I got you baby, just cum all over me. I can feel you dripping on me, just let go and cum.”

With your eyes closed and his cock still thrusting into your depths, you crash down around him, walls convulsing and trying to milk him dry. Jimin continues to fuck you through your orgasm, every thrust of his hips paired with his thumb on your clit eliciting wails from your throat.

“You like this? I’m gonna cum so deep in your pregnant little pussy. Fill you up like I did when I knocked you up. You like that right?” Jimin coaxes as his thrusts speed up. “Like getting filled with cum, that’s why you’re going to be pregnant all the time. My precious little pregnant bitch.”

“Oh yes, yes,” you are sobbing openly into his shoulder now, clutching him close to your body. “Fill me up, cum inside me!”

Jimin lets out a primal roar as his cock twitches inside you, hips driving him deeper one last time against your already occupied womb as he unleashes a torrent of cum, painting the mouth of your cervix white with semen. You lie there with your cunt sore, letting your alpha empty his balls into you as he rides out the rest of his pleasure, hands caressing your rounded hips as he milks his cock dry into your pussy.

He slowly pulls out of your tender cunt, dropping to his knees to lick up the mess as you twitch in overstimulation. You can only lie there boneless, hands reaching for him with a small whine in your chest for him to come cuddle you and take you to bed.

When Jimin scoops you in his arms, you bury your face into his neck. “Good boy, Chimmy.”

#bts #btssmutclub #btsmaknaenet #bangtan bookclub #bangtanwriters-net #bts jimin #bts jimin smut

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bluebeetle · 5 years

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Tell me about your dnd ocs

oroooook super late on this sorry, as i said, computer troubles have been plaguing me and continue to do so

oook so the last image i posted that prompted this was mostly of a friends character but mine from the same game was in the corner, who is also the guy in my header:

(Art by @herobrushreplica !!)

anyways his name is Nico (short for Nicolas) and he’s a dhampir since we use a lot of homebrew, and also a ranger. so yeah he uses dueling and has some healing spells bc we are dumb and didnt plan ahead and had like no healers..... and also can turn into a bat

also hes the poor neutral good in a sea of chaotics (and one lawful good)

He was kind of pre-existing prior to this but i expanded a bit more. anyways im lazy so ill copy-paste what i had written up already:

backstory:

A half-vampire born to a vampire hunter who's love was turned into a creature of the night as an act of revenge from a powerful vampire lord. The couple did not part nor kill each other like expected, however, and Nicolas (Nico for short) was born from this union. Raised in the art of fighting monsters and other creatures of the night, Nico learned how to use both ranged and melee weapons. He was brought up learning how all monsters--including more humanoid creatures such as Orcs, Vampire and Tieflings--were evil and it was the duty of his family to protect those in need from them.

However, he grew up battling with his vampiric side. His father telling Nico that he was to never reveal it to anyone unless necessary, while his mother assured him he was an amazing creature, and one of good rather than evil. His relationship with his father was rocky, made worse whenever any of Nico's traits showed. He grew up unsure of his destiny, instead focusing solely on the wishes of his parents, and keeping himself distant from other people.

However, this was not to last forever, as while Nico aged normally until he reached 25, it seem became clear that like his mother, he was ageless. After the death of his father, Nico's mother left to sleep away her grief, leaving him alone. Nico left to travel the land, hoping to help those in trouble--occasionally for a cost--and find his way. He has a hard time opening up and trusting people, but is quick to become attached and affectionate regardless. He is plagued by feelings of doubt and uncertainty over his heritage and morality, wondering if what his father has taught him about different races is true or not. He worries about his vampire side coming out and harming people--even if he can survive on normal food and animal blood. His heritage is not something he reveals easily--as he has experienced plenty of blacklash for being a dhampir in the past.

When it comes to taking action, he either impulsively acts, emotion taking over (often his temper) or overthinks, leaving him hesitant and confused. He's easily flustered and confused, wanting to help people and be in their company while also pushing them away in fear of them hating him for being what he is. He is bad at confrontation with authority figures, often instead going behind their backs. His main goal is to find his place in life, to chase away his feelings of loneliness and abandonment and feel assured in his morality and existence, in his choices. Or, at the very least, better understand himself.

He can survive on normal foods and animal blood, but would die if unable to eat any meat. Human blood is still tempting to him. He works best with melee weapons but has skills with the bow and whip. proficiency: arcana,athletics, perception, investigation, survival

Personality Traits

*I judge people by their actions, not their words.

* If someone is in trouble, I’m always ready to lend help. I don’t talk about the thing that torments me.

* I’d rather not burden others with my curse. I expect danger around every corner.

* I refuse to become a victim, and I will not allow others to be victimized. I put no trust in divine beings.

* I live for the thrill of the hunt.

Ideals:

*I try to help those in need, no matter what the personal cost. (Good)

*I kill monsters to make the world a safer place, and to exorcise my own demons. (Good)

Bonds:

*I protect those who cannot protect themselves.

*A terrible guilt consumes me. I hope that I can find redemption through my actions.

*There’s evil in me, I can feel it. It must never be set free.

Flaws

*The people who knew me when I was young know my shameful secret, so I can never go home again.

* have trouble trusting in my allies.

*I feel no compassion for the dead. They’re the lucky ones.

so yeah edgy vampire oc... but i love him. most of it ends up with everyone being well chaotic and him trying to keep some semblance of order so they can actually reach their goal but usually its. a mess. but its fun.

my other one ive used once so i dont have anything for her but shes an aarakocra monk named Zeera! and is Chaotic good and basically just a vehicle for me to be like “ahah what bird behaviour would be funny in this situation”. also her look is based on ornate hawk-eagles bc theyre pretty

Backstory:

Once part of the guardsmen for her tribe, Zeera has since decided she wants to see more of the world. She used to be a soldier, and has medical knowledge. She left the guardsmen, though, tired of horrible commanders. Just one problem: growing up so isolated from other races combined with general bird behaviour, means she tends to stick out as a ditsy trouble maker.

She takes anything shiny and doesn’t really understand many social concepts such as ownership. But she does understand fighting, oh boy does she. Somewhat childish in personality, acts very birdlike. Aggressive.

Personality Traits

*I enjoy being strong and like breaking things. I face problems head-on.

*A simple, direct solution is the best path to success.

Ideals

*Independence. When people follow orders blindly, they embrace a kind of tyranny. (Chaotic)

*Greater Good. Our lot is to lay down our lives in defense of others. (Good)

Bonds

*Those who fight beside me are those worth dying for.

Flaws

*I have little respect for anyone who is not a proven warrior.

*I’d rather eat my armor than admit when I’m wrong.

#ask #dnd #my characters #my ocs

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feral--bog--witch · 4 years

Text

Alright, Ive got some time between editing and chores where I can sit down and actually explain some discourse I was in a bit ago with a vegan radfem. I stated that animals dont have human emotions and that I lived on a farm and they stated I was not an animal lover if I owned a farm and that yes animals do have human emotions. I wanted to clarify my position.

I am not vegan or vegetarian, first thing out of the gate. I eat meat, eggs, honey, and drink milk. Do I have issues with the over production and handling of major agriculture and livestock centers? Abso-fucking-lutely. Over consumption has created an unsustainable and brutal system that needs to be fixed. I agree with this. However the use of animal products is something I will always disagree with. Specifically because of how I view life and death.

My view of life is that no matter where you go or who or what you are, you require death to sustain you. From the plants that grow to the tigers in the jungle, something must die or decay to feed life. It's a natural and inescapable circle. Fungus and bacteria feed of of decaying bodies, breaking them down to the barest forms. Plants grow while feeding off of those decayed remains, growing off of the nutrients left. Herbivores and omnivores eat the plants to sustain themselves, taking in that life to grow and flourish. Carnivores and omnivores eat the herbivores to sustain themselves, to grow strong and old. Eventually they all die, once again bringing us to the beginning of that cycle. There is no place on this earth where you can live without death. Every living being on this planet is alive because of death because death sustains us.

In a cosmic or spiritual sense I do not hold one living being as superior to another. To me I feel the same reverence towards the plants that I eat as I do to the chickens that lay the eggs I eat as I do to the steer whose flesh I consume. Each one of those creatures is revered to me, their death or work brings me life, sustains me, and each of them is important and none are more important than the other. They do not hold more or less value to me based on who they are. The garden I plant get the same love and affection as the animals I raise. Why should I love and revere one and not the other when both will end up giving their lives for the cycle we live in? I know I will one day die and my body will return to the earth and the cycle will begin again with me being consumed by the very things that I had consumed in life.

We all sustain ourselves on death, the death of a plant or an animal does not matter, it is still death. And each of those deaths has meaning and matters as each of those lives had meaning and mattered.

So now that I've explained that so you have a better understanding of how I view the world, let's discuss animals and emotions. Animals and plants do not have human emotion. They don't and no one can convince me otherwise. Why? Because a dog has dog emotions, a cow has cow emotions, a tree has tree emotions. They each have their own way of perceiving the world and we shouldn't forget that. When we get so intent on seeing ourselves in animals we forget to see them. We look for only ourselves and become blinded to just how special their perception of the world is. I don't want to know which dog emotion mimics human emotion. I want to know exactly how a dog perceives its world and processes it. I don't want to see me in a dog I want to see that dog as a dog, as a life perceiving its world around it in its own unique way. I want to connect with it not because I see humanity but because our perceptions overlap and I can see the world through its eyes, not my own.

I feel the same way about plants. They all perceive the world in unique and vastly different ways and when you look at the world and try to see humanity in it, you ignore and are blinded to the things that are removed from that narrow scope. Plants do have feelings and perceive the world but it's so vastly different from ours we say they have none. But if they did not then the rose would never have grown thorns, the tree would never scar, the grass would never release hormones to warn others when it is cut, the dandelions would not tell others to duck when they are cut either.

Plants have a vast world of communication and feeling that we do not see because we are so blinded by looking for ourselves in nature we refuse to see the perceptions of the things that are just too different to comprehend.

So no. Animals do not have human emotions. Animals have animal emotions, plants have plant emotions,and that's great and wonderful. Each of those perceptions of the world are so important in understanding life and each other. To think otherwise shows the human superiority complex we have. We believe we are the mould in which intelligent life itself is cast from, if it is not like us, if we cannot see ourselves within it, it is not truly living or feeling. It's useless and stupid and is not worth the time to understand because there is nothing there to understand. All because we tried to look for ourselves rather than simply see what each living thing perceives of the world.

Onto my farm and the accusation that if I own a farm I cannot love animals. Im not going to give away too many irl details but we inherited the farm back in 2000 when family died. We moved out here and have been here ever since. I spoke of generations of animals and I was telling the truth. A majority of the animals on our farm can be traced back to rescued animals. We have a great love of finding the poorest, most neglected little beasties and rescuing them and bringing them home. We took care of them, loved them, and let them flourish. Cull sheep, orphaned calves, cage hens, abused cats, neglected goats, meat horses, you name it, we probably rescued it at one point. We even had a few years where we would buy barn pigeons stuffed into tiny boxes simply to let them fly free.

Those first animals became our bedrock and we grew on them. They had babies and their babies had babies and they grew old and they died and their family line lives on. A vast majority of the animals on our farm can be traced back to a rescue we did. We let the animals be animals and that included having babies. Yes we will sell some and you could twist it and say we participate in the corporate industrial meat industry but not really.

We never sell to feedlots or through massive operations. It's farm to freezer. We sell directly to consumers or people who have consumers to sell to (some of our buyers have people who live provinces over so they facilitate the deals we couldn't under normal circumstances). These animals are well loved and taken care of to the moment they are sold and butchered. We dont run 600 head or 1000 head. We run less than 100 and some people prefer it to buying stock from a store. At least with us they have the opportunity to come and see where their meat is from and see how they are treated. (Let me tell you people get really excited when they see you can go through a sheep or goat herd with the animals trying to love on you for scratches because you hand raised most of them and know you always scratch the best.)

A vast majority of our butchering is done locally as well. The one shop we mainly use does on the farm slaughtering meaning you don't stress the animal out by shipping it to a huge plant where it is noisy and quite frankly terrifying or even shipping them all over to a new enviroment. They stay at home and they die at home as painlessly as possible. They arent stressed and they never have to leave the place they were born. I prefer it that way. I don't like my animals to get stressed or scared. Neither do the rest of us here.

Im an animal lover 100%. If owning a farm negates that in some people's eyes I have to ask why? Is it because cows aren't cute enough to love or own? Is it because sheep aren't good enough to be on posters? Is it because I choose to extend my love to the unconventional animals? The non-cuddly ones? Why does living on a farm negate my love of other beings? Should we have left their ancestors to be abused and neglected? Should we have sold off the native prairie pastures we have to be torn up into single crop farms rather than allow our animals to roam free? Should we have left the cage hens in their cages rather than let them have free range on the farm to do as they wish (seriously though. Our ladies eat all the bugs. I haven't had a tick in years. They eat them all)?

Yes we have to sell some for meat but that is how we sustain ourselves so we can continue to survive and buy feed for all those that are left. I dont care what people think about our farm or our animals because nothing will change the fact that we have goats that give you hugs, chickens that treat you like one of the girls and try to feed you, to cows that want to bounce and play with you, horses that think teasing you is the greatest fun in the world, and sheep that will bowl you over trying to get attention and love.

Our animals are happy, healthy, and well loved. And in this world, that's the best thing for them.

#farming #radfem witch #radfem #i love all my animals and no one can tell me otherwise #gotta love the noncuddly ones too #at least my beasties have room to run around and play #local meat and produce is the most ecologically friendly form of consumption but no one wants to talk about that

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