#*angry goat noises*

[bowsnbots]

"He didn't mean it." He says, looming over Peppina's corpse.

[goat-yells-at-everything]

Had to stop at Walmart for a prescription that hadn't been ready last time.

Guess. Fucking. What.

A SECOND associate, completely different person from before, informed me that my 60+ pound SERVICE DOG had to be in a cart or I couldn't come back in the store.

Second time in a fucking row.

After being promised by 3 people it wouldn't happen again.

Ya. I went back to customer service. Probably looked and sounded more Karen-ish this time too but come on, this is ridiculous! But he did pull up the policy on the computer and read it and confirmed that it wasnt true. Again. He said he'd address it and promised it wouldn't happen again.

But if it did I should ask for him. -_-

If it happens again I'm calling a fucking lawyer. This is decided and FEDERAL law. Regardless of what you THINK your policy is, you CAN NOT make demands like that.

It'd be one thing if Rosie caused issues or tried to get attention from employees/customers. But she literally does nothing but walk next to me or sit at my feet. She has a job and she does it well!

Turned a really great day (had new student orientation and it was great) totally sour.

[slaughterlmao]

miy little meow meow

[tsukii0002]

My demons' periods cycles. By Mc

Note: these are purely my headcanons at the moment, they are based on animal ethology and behaviours that I think would suit each character depending on their personality and Lore. I would love to read your headcanon in case you have them.

Warning: Long text. Possible grammatical errors. It's written as if Mc was writing for themself.

Hey, it me Mc, the best human. Here is a compilation of the behaviours of my demons during their periods, cycles, for practical day to day use. It wasn't easy but I sat them down and got to talk to them, with a little effort I now know what they need. So now I am ready to assist them during these complicated times and be prepared in case I find a dead goat on the porch as a tribute.

Lucifer, Mammon & Levi || Satan, Asmo, & Beel || Belphie, Barbatos & Diavolo || Simeon & Raphael

Satan

Light damages his eyes, and during his period he does not sleep at all.

During his cycle, the plaques that extend from his tail to his entire body become more pronounced and acquire a bioluminescent coating. As do its horns. Beware, they prick.

Some parts of his body grow feathers (I think this is a "side" effect of his birth). He aggressively plucks them out, help him not to hurt himself.

His teeth grow continuously, he has to be sanding them (biting things or his own tail). Other than that he doesn't groom much.

Satan doesn't have a fixed place to spend his heat, and although he likes to "nest" he doesn't know how to do it well, which frustrates him a lot. Help him, you already have experience (I think that's why he has chosen my room as his favourite place)

Depending on the weather he may make something more like a nest or a burrow.

Satan is terribly territorial, even with his siblings. He has had a run in with Cerberus from time to time. Please don't let that happen, the house won't hold.

Satan does not have a pre-heat period as such, but you can tell it is coming because he becomes more taciturn and solitary.

Raw meat is his main food, which is what he goes out to hunt very often because he needs a lot of it, but make sure he doesn't eat more than his capacity or it will make him sick. One way to do this is to feed him yourself (I think he thinks you have hunted for him if you do this).

Satan is the only one who haunts other demons and even souls of the condemned.

It is the only one that has fought other demons. Any living thing within 100 metres of him is encroaching on his territory, which is a problem because he moves so much for hunt.

Satan becomes non-verbal. But he does not use noises to communicate, only physical contact.

Growls and roars are reserved for threats and warnings (in other words, to communicate with everyone but you).

He likes physical contact, but is afraid to get close in case he hurts you (his tags and tail), you won't deny him comfort so be careful and that's it.

Satan produces pheromones, but does not usually mark.

His way of courting is to offer you resources, especially prey (he wants to prove he can feed you), it's not the first time he's brought you a live demon. Once he brought you a Little D, the poor thing kept shaking.

Satan's senses are heightened to the extreme. Many stimuli upset him and he has fits of rage. talk to him, so that he focuses his attention on your voice, that will calm him down. Lucifer's voice calms him down a lot too (but it's a secret)

All these changes (hormonal, behavioural…) are not good for his anger, the poor thing gets very angry without knowing why.

Satan's temperature is a reflection of his activity, when he is on the move it increases and when he stops it decreases.

During periods of low activity he curls up next to you, holding your hand (for fear of hurting you) with his pupils fully dilated, don't be fooled, he is fully alert and ready to attack.

Satan purrs? YES! It's the purr that most resembles a cat (that will make him happy, but don't tell him, the avatar of wrath has his pride).

Mc: *in their bedroom helping Satan* Here is ok?

Satan: *looking at them and nodding*

Mc: Making a nest is complicated… are you sure this is okay?

Satan: *standing next to them and rubbing his cheek with their cheek *

Mc: *smiling* Okay, let's go to the next part.

Satan: *grunting at a demon that's approached the house*

Mc: Satan!!! Satan stop!!!

Demon: *paralyzed with fear*

Mc: *hugging* Satan now, let him go, he's going, he's goi- agh!

Satan: !!!

Mc: *cut themself with his tail* It's okay, it's nothing.

Satan: *guilty look*

Mc: *taking him by the hand* Don't worry, this heals fast.

Satan: *nodding still guilty, squeezing their hand*

Demon: …. I thought I was dying!!!!

Satan: *purring as he presses his chin on Mc*

Mc: *talking to him to calm him down* And remember you don't have to go out every day, there's plenty of food here….

Satan: *purring more loudly*

Mc: But if you see my great uncle's soul, the one from the village, it's all yours.

Satan: *nodding with a smile*

Mc: *laughing* How trustworthy, you're awesome Satan.

Asmo

Although he spends most of his time awake, he needs to sleep.

He can be just as active during the day as he is at night (like arachnids).

For him to sleep, you have to be right next to him or he won't sleep.

Asmo needs to nest completely under cover, underground, but prefers the safety of his home to going outside. So he improvises a burrow in his room.

During his period the scales of his exoskeleton become shiny and velvety coated, as do his wings and horns.

Them take on a more striking fuchsia colour than usual. It will be one of the few times you will be able to see Asmo's tail with its sting.

He preens himself a lot, moistening its wings, polishing its scales... At first he is a little reluctant to be helped, but later he will be constantly asking for your help.

More than territorial, Asmo is possessive. He doesn't want you to leave his side, sometimes with his siblings too. If he smells a scent of someone else in his tribe, good luck to that individual.

Asmo doesn't have pre-heat, you'll just wake up one day with all your clothes gone and you'll know it's started.

Asmo's diet during its cycle is varied, although its consumption increases, ranging from fresh meat, fluids of all kinds, to poisonous substances such as flowers, mushrooms or other live animals. Be sure to allow some time to pass before he kisses or bites you.

If you get him a rare poisonous plant, he will be happy and content.

He can talk normally, but he will also make clicking sounds to indicate his mood.

Lots of pheromones, Asmo produces lots and lots of pheromones during his period, pheromones that he will use to mark his territory. Often his siblings can't be near him. You don't have that problem

Asmo is very needy to contact, hug him, give him kisses, caress his wings, his hair. He will be happy to let you.

And he will return the gesture, he will bite you too (always have your first aid kit handy). He will always try to be on top of you or for you to be on top of him.

Asmo's courtship consists of exsivating while performing a dance (like scorpions), this dance is complex and elaborate, and during it he releases a large amount of pheromones.

He gets very confused when you don't react to it, Asmo I'm sorry but I can't smell your pheromones, sometimes he even gets sad.

His senses are very developed, especially his sense of smell, which is more developed than any of his siblings. Make sure the flowers in his room are enchanted so that they don't emit odour and with perfumes and other fragranced products the same or he can get hurt.

Asmo's temperature will generally drop, but he will go through periods of very high fever (due to his sin) which will leave him tired.

During fever peaks he will become very active, and will devote most of his time to courting. To balance this out you will have to COURT him yourself, you'd better improve that dance.

Because of his temperature, he will spend most of his time hiding in the burrow, demanding your cuddles.

He purrs? , yes, in an adorable and soft way. It is easy to make him purr, with a simple praise.

Asmo: Kiss? *with Mc sitting on his lap*

Mc: Not yet Asmo.

Asmo: *with teary eyes* Don't you love me anymore?

Mc: *sighing* Asmo, my life, my heart, you just ate three nightshade roots.

Asmo: *almost crying* And?

Mc: I love you very much but I also want to live.

Asmo: My nose itches.

Mc: Wait a bit longer, I'm finishing enchanting the flowers.

Asmo: *sad * It would be less trouble to remove them…

Mc: But you like them, don't you?

Asmo: Mc..

Mc: *hugging him* I'm here to help you and to make you comfortable, if you like the flowers, the flowers stay.

Asmo: Love you so much!

Asmo: *dancing with a very high fever*

Mc: Asmo, you are so beautiful… you can rest now.

Asmo: *staring at them non-stop*

Mc: *blushing while standing up * You leave me no choice *starts dancing and grabs Asmo by the waist*

Asmo: ?! Are you courting me?! * excited*

Mc: *Grabbing him in their arms to take him to rest* Yup, it worked?.

Asmo: I'm all yours, Mc, from the beginning…

Beel

Light is not a problem for him, although he prefers darkness.

During his period, the exoskeleton hardens and plates of it appear all over his body, and his horns become iridescent.

In addition, its wings become ribbed in a pattern, which at first glance is very beautiful. The more complex the pattern, the more attractive it is. You always see his wings as beautiful, but you agree with him, Beel deserves it.

He does a lot of grooming, which is lovely to see, because Beel is a bit clumsy and needs constant help, he has been injured a few times and you don't want that to happen again.

There are some flies and other insects that lay their nests underground. In Beel's case he has a small gallery dug in the garden, which he uses for storage too.

Beel at the beginning of the cycle may be in the house, but as he progresses he will be in his gallery.

More than territorial, he becomes protective of you and his siblings (he once kidnapped Luke), so when he is in his gallery he feels bad, because his desire to protect them is crushed by his need to be hidden.

Beel has a very marked pre-heat, in which he accumulates large quantities of food in his small cave and his appetite doubles. All the inhabitants of the house join in at this time to cook.

In contrast, during his period of heat his activity is reduced and his appetite decreases, this does not mean that he does not eat, he eats more often but in much smaller quantities and from storage (food that does not spoil).

He will insist on feeding you constantly, prepare indigestion medicine, you will need it.

Beel becomes totally non-verbal, be prepared to become an interpreter, he communicates with grunts, clicks and buzzes his wings.

Lots of buzzing, it's not the first time you've been hit by his wings, with the different buzzes he makes all sorts of claims and they have a high communicative range, you'll just need some time to figure it out.

His pheromones are strong, and he will mark, although he does it unconsciously.

As I said, he likes to have his family around him, but when he can't, anxiety takes over, vibration and physical contact calms him down. The easiest thing to do is to lay him on your chest and talk to him while stroking his hair or wings.

Beel's courtship is complex, first he feels the need to prove he can be a good provider, so he will constantly enlarge and improve his gallery.

And then there is the display of his wings, patterning and rhythmic, synchronised movements and buzzes to impress you.

He sleeps more than usual, will want you to sleep in his arms, and usually does so perched on one of his walls, hopefully you won't develop vertigo….

His senses are not as sharp as those of his siblings, but he becomes much more agile and has much better reflexes.

Beel's temperature increases, due to the continuous movement of his wings (insects produce a lot of heat when flying), but when he is at rest he tends to cool down.

Beel's purr is a mixture of a buzz and a vibration, he will purr when he is calm and content.

Beel was a little worried about how you might react because many humans detest insects. Be sure to praise his wings and other attributes, because this demon is adorable.

Mc: So this is your lair?

Beel: Yes… I decided to keep it from period to period to not destroy the garden…

Mc: I think it's very practical!!! It must be very cool in summer.

Beel: Do you really think so?

Mc: Yes, and cosy too, you're an artist Beel.

Beel: *smiling as he blushes*

Beel: *grunts*

Mc: Beel I can't take anymore…

Beel: *holding out a piece of fruit to them* *buzz*

Mc: Really Beel, I'm going to explode…

Beel: !! *hugging them*

Mc: It's a figure of speech… but can you eat my share… please.

Mc: *sleeping hugging Beel in one of the corners of his gallery*

Beel: *caressing them with his cheek*

Mc: It's all right Beel?

Beel: *crackling with worry*

Mc: Don't worry... Lucifer is with them… and the others will take care of Lucifer for you.

Beel: …*cradling them adoringly*

Mc: And I'll take care of you, so rest…

.

.

.

If you have made it this far thanks you 🩷

[yangcherie]

play chase

pairing: ascended!astarion / spawn!tav (reader.)

content warnings: female reader, dubcon, briefest references to age gap (c’mon, he’s 200 years old), power imbalance, forced dependency, abuse. cunnilingus. mentions of death. references to cannibalism. abuse. ascended astarion things, except he’s a bit nicer.

sypnosis: astarion has been having an immensely difficult time taming you; his newly-turned bride-to-be. he believes a lesson about obedience is well overdue. so he fucks you before the honeymoon.

author’s note: ugh. this was messy. like immensely messy im so sorry i just lost interest in this fandom but thought id still finish this up. hope you guys enjoy btw tav is feral here like Kinda i guess? ignore the plotholes or i rob ur house angry face emoji here

“Little one.” Astarion carolled, hoping he sounded just genuine enough to coax you out of wherever you’ve tucked yourself into like a feral animal. You’d catch more flies with honey than vinegar, after all. “Sweet thing. Whatever you’re playing at, it’s time to put an end to it.”

He hopes the restlessness doesn’t bleed through his voice; having walked and stalked through what felt like the very entirety of his former master’s palace – now claimed by none other than himself. It only felt right to do so after his ascension, in the same vein he claimed you as his own. The manor is a wretched thing – but so were you. He would come to love it in time; as he had with you.

He felt like a fool right now with the way he was practically just going to rot away waiting for you to either crawl out or hiding spot (which was never) or to hear you slip up, shuffle around or screech just loud enough that he could catch the sound in his fingers and hunt you down.

You’ve fallen into much troublesome, teasing habits, including hiding away from him or viciously teething and ripping at whatever caught your eye — and Astarion doesn’t have the slightest idea on why or how — but he could excuse it. Decades of cruelty have also taught him mercy, despite having lacked it.

All the furniture you would violently break apart into splinters? You must’ve been teething, and this hideous manor desperately needs a renovation, anyway. The troublesome amount of tear and rip and fray of fabric in curtains, clotheswear and sheets alike? You’re simply due for a trimming on your claws, and again, the manor needs a renovation. Your incessant disturbances of racket and noise during the occasions he’d bring nobles over? His poor, needy wife must’ve been feeling neglected – and that alone is a perfect reason for him to usher away any unwanted guests.

(It honestly did him more good than you knew.)

Astarion could not only excuse and enjoy it, all your petty, feral little acts of disobedience – but he’s also dedicated nearly half his time to provide you gratification. You needed teething? Fine, expect to be fed with ambrosian blood; be it by kegs of it at your bedside, or drunkards thrown at your feet, paralyzed with alcohol and terror, all but open for you to forcefully dig and tear out their throats and drink in their dwindling life. He’d even dab at your face with a handkerchief after.

Couldn’t control your claws? He’s provided you toys to rough up and chew into — himself included, of course; if the never-bite marks beneath his collar were anything to go by. And if you were good enough, willing to paw at and prop your chin on his clothed thigh to prettily stare at him with roseate, cherub eyes; he’d take you hunting with the given main course or prey being deers, goats or nobles who couldn’t be swayed to his upcoming reign.

And if his other efforts to be of no avail, he could always do with his last but favorite method of calming you down; exerting his dominance with his own fangs wounding the muted skin of your throat to keep you still as he gives you a good fucking – just hard enough to keep you content from acting out for the next few days.

Astarion had done his utmost to be considerate. You were a fledgling; still adjusting to the intricacies that came with your newly-gifted vampirism. He was all but destructive during his first years as a spawn, as well. He could excuse it, all this disrespect, this ingratitude to his affections. Really! It just had to be a good day.

And to the fucking Nines, today was not a good day.

Right now, he was nothing short of frustrated. Frustrated with his idiotic thralls, with having to deal with posh aristocrat fools to establish his reign over the Gate, with the fabric of his shirt – all of it! And now he has to be frustrated with you, as well? All he yearnt for was to be soothed by none other than you, but even this you would pettily keep out from his reach?

The manor is stretched far and wide, generous; much unlike the fraying thread that is his patience. He licks his teeth, brows furrowing – legs aching just the slightest. You couldn’t behave for just today, could you? Always needing to test him to keep you in line.

You could’ve simply drained and massacred the enthralled nobles in his dungeons, or lay waste to yet another room in the palace and he wouldn’t have given much of a damn, but no, instead, you’ve decided to play hard to get and hide yourself away from him when he needs you most.

“Dearest.” Astarion grits out, an exasperated groan stuck in his throat. The heel of his boots thudding against the cobble is all he’s heard for hours, in his search of you. He might just raze down the entire manor if it meant you’d come out. “I am in no mood to be entertaining your tantrums.”

A wearisome ache begins to swarm his temples, coaxing a sigh from him. He can just envision it, in whatever hole you’ve tucked yourself in lays the ripped ivory tulle fabric of yet another gown alongside the vast amount you’ve already ravaged. It’s all you’ve been tearing at since he’s arranged your bethrothment with him – and his enthralled tailors aren’t very willing to oblige him and sew another.

He swears on the fucking ragdoll he will make out of you once he finds you that this time, you will not go unpunished. He has been lenient, and he was no fool; he could tell instinct and intent apart. Whatever game you were playing at, Astarion would let you know he didn’t like it in the slightest. First, you deny him of your presence and then you deny him of his right to wed you. What a little demon you are.

But it seems even you were getting restless in your own petty little game, he thought so smugly, as a hiss so unmistakably yours laden with offense and the impact of ceramic against the ground bounced off the opulent hallway making him sharply turn his body around to follow the sound. You never quite had the knack to keep quiet as a rogue like himself could, even before the feral inanity that clouds you now. It’s not long before he’s behind yet another bedroom out of hundreds in the palace and twisting the rusted doorknob.

It creaks open, Astarion pursing his lips as he steps inside – just to be hit with the pungent stench of blood and a mess littered that told him you indeed were in the room. A good hint; the hint being a gutted body of what he could only assume was a servant crumpled on the floor, who with no doubt you hurled actoss the room once you had forcefully drained your fill of.

His nose wrinkled at the sight. He ought to teach you something about manners on not playing with your food, after he catches you.

“Little pup?” He stalks through the room, briefly kicking the body aside and glancing at the two puncture holes on its neck. If you were hungry, you simply could’ve asked.

It’s a dreary scene, the room a relic of neglect worth centuries. Moth-eaten curtains spotted with fresh blood, rusted chandeliers rickety with dust. Dreary as it was, he had no doubt this is one of the rooms he’s used to bed many a victim.

He briefly wonders if you even bedded the servant before draining him.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are...”

There’s a subtle shuffle, a little, pathetic bleat of a hiss to his call, just below the old, yellowed canopy bed in the very center of the room. The space between his brows pinch as he approaches the dingy canopy and drops to his knees to peer below, batting at the dust that assaults his senses.

Craning his neck downwards, peering below the bed, he’s fixed with your beady, red stare – and it startles Astarion more than he’d like to admit.

Something weary between a growl and a sigh comes out of him when he wills himself to tear his gaze away from your unnerving eyes and across the entirety of your body; you’re filthy, with flaky remains of gore and scratches, cobwebs stuck to your hair and soot stuck to your skin. He quietly groans, filled with just enough irritation that your beady eyes bat him a blink so innocent and faultless that he’s rather tempted to bend you over his lap and paddle you —

But it was futile to scold you. He knows it, that you wouldn’t understand – had made sure your senses would dwindle, like a honed knife being whittled to dullness. Slowly but surely being to forced to rely on base instincts. He always thought you to be too smart for your own good, and he couldn’t have you thinking you could leave him in the dust, no, no.

(And, well, if you ever did, he doubt the ghouls that follow his word like law would let you through any door out, anyway.)

Futile as it is it to scold you, it’s easier to let his irritation roll over him in waves sear him like boiling water.

“You insolent brat, you.” Astarion hisses, batting his hand in a motion that tells you to get out and up. It’s with an infuriating obedience that you follow, one that casts something bitter to brew in him. Where was that earlier? He roughly wrenches you out by your wrist, dragging you up to your feet to meet his infuriated eyes. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you, you fucking–?”

You hiss at the touch, nose scrunched and teeth bared enough to show gums – your free hand flying out to grip his wrist to dig your untrimmed nails into his skin just as he did with you. He raises a brow, unamused. Perhaps he should have felt offended the way you thought you could just behave like an animal and disrespect him like that. Perhaps he really should go and dig the heel in, let you sink in the fall from pride to humiliation of being paddled.

“You think you’re hilarious, hm? Quit acting like an animal.” Astarion huffs indignantly, disregarding a small part of him wanting to croon at you in the same manner one would with a feral thing. You need discipline and gods damn him if he did not provide that. He wrenches his wrist out of your clawed fingers, glaring. If you were some stranger, he’d feel inclined to spit on you. “Or I’ll drain you like one.”

It’s a lie, a petty one at that, and you seem to know it as it only pulls another one of those sounds out you; one more grating and animalistic than the last, one that makes him bare his own teeth at you. The threat is as petty as it is tragic, a reminder of what you’ve given up to him beyond your blood – your soul, your mortality.

He’s had his fill of you since the night you turned, since he sunk his teeth into the very marrow of your being and drained you for all you were worth. He swallowed you with a hunger that could burn out even the sun itself. You could not believe that on that night, the night he had killed you, the soft, benign hands keeping your head from hitting the hard floor were of the same body with the mouth and teeth that snuffed your light straight out.

(You died being held in his arms; whether it was to keep you still, keep you there unable to jerk away from death or to keep you comforted, you never found out. You didn’t want to.)

When you awoke, it was no longer his teeth that speared through you next but loss and hunger, a mind-numbing, mingling pit in your stomach. You woke up with grief knowing you were no longer who you once were.

Astarion has an intimate relationship with hunger, true and daunting hunger. And no nobles’ blood, no sheep, bear, boar nor lamb can fix it.

It will not leave him, and it will not leave you.

“I’ll have you know you look delectable right now.” He hisses through his teeth, something burning all hot, ugly and hungry in his stomach. It’s the way he says it that has you backing down, meeting his eyes with a glare of your own before tentatively softening; allowing him to touch you. In a time before now, he would have said it teasingly, as your lover, your man. Near a warm fire, pinned to the ground with your hair splayed and a summer solstice grin.

But now, he is more hunger than man.

(You suppose you are too.)

He stares you down, the dip of your collarbones, the slope of your hips, the slightest cinch of your waist, your lips, all doused in some servant’s blood. The scent of it with yours wafts out and beckons to him. Spanning his fingers over the stiffened slopes of your bare shoulders, he finds the knots he’ll have to work and ease over with floral oils later on during bedtime.

In your feral head, it feels as if he’s fondling the meat on your shoulder. Prodding at the softest spots, finding which would taste best.

His fingers leave your shoulder in favor of returning to your wrist, pulling taut at it to lead you out the dryrotting room and into those intricate halls, turning left, right, right, left, straight until you’re stumbling into his personal chambers, his soft canopy bed and sinking into his mattress with enough space between your parted legs that he takes the chance to crawl towards and tuck himself in.

He pushes his lips to yours, kisses you dizzy, tongue fighting a battle with yours. The bed is downy soft beneath you when you melt into it and dig your nails in, heeded by instinct as he pins you against them with ease. The air feels hotter, when he pulls away with silken strands of spit between you two, splitting when he dips back downwards to lay his head on your stomach, circling his arms around your hips to keep you still as he noses around the softness of your stomach.

“Stay still.” He rasps, throaty enough you feel inclined to begrudingly listen and settle down with a growl stuck behind your teeth. “This is just something to make you relax.”

It’s not entirely a lie, he thinks to himself. Nowadays, he only ever beds you if he sees you need to be put into your place or to be sedated. You’re not exactly as smart as you used to be.

He kisses his way down; trails little licks and bites over your stomach, lowering to the jolting of your hips, to the swell of your thighs. Moves a hand to fondle your calves and returning it to join the arms still locked around your hips, using his head to gently nudge your legs a bit wider and teeth to lift up the chiffon dress pillowing around your legs, lingering on your calf; to settle his lips on your clothed mound.

A protestant, breathy noise comes out of you when his mouth ghosts your clothed clit, and he grumbles at it; tugging at the flimsy fabric until it delicately finds its place on the floor.

The cold, dusty, evening air wraps around your clit, the muscles in your legs tightening with the amount of whatever strength you have to use to avoid clamping around his head when he kisses it briefly but so sweetly that an uneasy expression makes home on your face.

A dreadful shiver shoots an arrow straight through your spine then, when that one intimate kiss at your bundle of nerves turns into two, then three, until all that fight and spark in you has been stomped out and worn out into the dirt. Despite that senseless fog that clouds your head, you remain soft and still, legs open and unclamping around his head with the indomitable fear he’d do something less... gratifying than this.

That kiss turns into stripe licked up your clit, a shaky breath forced out of you once again. He gently pulls you closer, just a breathswidth from your fluttering entrance.

You wonder if he feels the way you stiffen under his hands, if he mistakes the way your hips rock as wanting more instead of trying to run away.

“Be good,” he murmurs, breath hot and voice lazy. “and everything else will follow...”

A spawn’s desire to follow their master is something even the likes of you cannot help but submit to, and so with a rough grunt, you finally let loose your tense muscles just enough to let Astarion pull you gently down, to fully ease you on his mouth — so he can really give you that relaxation.

He runs the tip of his tongue over your clit, laving around it and allowing himself a lazy glance up when you abruptly sit up and thread a hand through his hair, chest stuck in a growling air you struggle to take in. Rough as it is, it also sounds lewd – and it’s music pretty enough that he hums and closes his eyes shut, rewarding you with flicks and sucks on the sensitive little thing that only makes you tighten your grip around his perfect curls and dig into his scalp.

A moan can’t be stopped from slithering its way out your mouth, your shoulders working itself lower and the crease between your eyebrows letting up. He wasn’t lying, it feels good, you begrudingly think and huffing in an effort to hide your moan and keep the current of anger from diminishing under pleasure. You find it easy to keep grappling onto it when you feel him crookededly smile against the flesh of you, as if the idea of you adamantly resisting was theatrical and hilarious.

His tongue leaves your clit, delving into your hole and squirming against your walls in a way that has your ears ringing, hand still in his hair. Your eyes shut tight.

You hate him, you think. Hate how he makes you feel this way, makes you feel so alive despite being anything but. And you especially hate yourself for the sharp heat that tugs at your stomach, a thinly-veiled frenzy arching over you.

Ever since the undeath of you, you’ve lacked control; and it’s no easy feat to defy the oncoming slaught of pleasure about to wash over you. Not when his tongue laves around your slick clit in such a way that it makes you throw your head back and dig your heels into his back. So with a moan caged low behind your throat, you convulse, coming in his mouth when you wished for anything but.

“See what being good gets you?” He pulls away and coos at you with his teeth and lips shining, savoring you as if you were just the sweetest pomegranate out there. Your chest heaves as you come down from the high, so weakly throwing him a glare that attests to your damaged pride.

Your eyes flicker around his face and his hands, expecting him to move back and let up, having had his fill of you. But he doesn’t move back, no, he stays smiling at you, lets himself be busied by the frantic pattern of rise and fall by your chest — by the fact you breathe by habit even when you no longer need to.

Your throat bobs; his eyes are quick to narrow and trace the movement.

“You,” you rasp, you speak, the conciousness you fight to grapple on a rope so quickly fraying. Astarion’s smile stretches into a mean, mean grin that makes your skin crawl. “You’re done.”

Your head tricks you into thinking you lack the breath to make the questioning lilt in your words, so it comes out as a demand. One you’re not very sure he takes to kindly.

“Adorable!” He giggles, tapping the tip of your nose. “Silly. No, we aren’t.”

“And you,” Astarion coos again, meaner, reaching out with slick fingers to dig into your cheeks whilst ignoring your flinch and bared teeth. He squeezes your face and patronizingly moves it around as if afflicted with cuteness aggression, like an owner unable to believe his pet wants him to stop giving it pets. “You don’t get to make the demands around here. I–”

He pulls your face closer, his breath fanning your face.

“I do.” He snarls. You give him one back twice as malicious, sharp fingers flying to grip the hand that holds your face captive. “I make the fucking demands around here and you– you listen, and you do what I tell you to do because I—”

He inhales a sharp intake of breath, the fingers on your face digging in just further enough it starts to hurt.

“Honestly, dear.” He laughs like the idea of you having command over him is the funniest thing in the world, but the sound is so taut and forced. A display of theatrics. “If there’s anyone out here worth listening to, it’s me!”

Astarion doesn’t let go much to your dismay, watching you so keenly, drinking in your pain – and you start to hiss when his fingers don’t cease the tightening grip on your face, forcing you back into that instinctive, protective shell. It’s all a blur when you plant your two feet on his chest and kicking him with all your force, knocking him back just a mere distance away, still on the bed but further. He merely scoffs, moreso annoyed than pained, quick to get back on his knees and crawling towards you yet again. His hands grip the comforter, fingertips digging into the softness as he grits his teeth.

“No– no, no, don’t you dare.” Astarion brattily tugs at you, like you’re his favorite toy, until you’re situated beneath him once more, scratching and squirming about. “You will not not run away from me!”

“Not when I’ve been so kind to you,” he spat. It’s between a grit and tease when he says it, and now that he’s between your legs again, he grinds his clothed hips against your cunt. “And I’ve been busy making dresses for you, you know, when really I should be making leashes.”

He offhandedly mentions with a sneer and as if to help visualize the collar, his strong hand goes to wrap around your throat – squeezing just hard enough your breath leaves you all at once. Your mouth gapes open then, floundering to claw at his wrist.

“What do you think?” Astarion laughs, mean, mean, mean. Another hand goes to unbuckle his belt, the leather of his pants sliding off and making brief but chilling contact with your thighs. “Would you prefer it with a chain?”

Black dots around the edges of your vision, with the hand on your throat and the dwindling air in your chest, you cannot muster any disapproving sound to his words – and as if to punish you for your silence, he tightens his grip until you’re sure that the skin would be bruised purple and pretty underneath for days. And he watches you, like you’re some form of entertainment, floundering and wincing about for merciful air, distracted enough you don’t notice the heat of his cockhead pressing against your pulsing opening.

Distracted enough you don’t notice with how you’re squirming about for air, you’re grinding yourself against his cockhead.

You can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe.

Whilst you’re busy thinking if this is it, this is the fucking end of it all; you’ll be found dead on the master’s bed in the morning, indecent, monstrous even without a stake in your heart but with blue and purple around your neck instead, Astarion’s attention was charmed like a moth to flame with how you don’t seem to notice you’re still so alive despite having sunken his teeth into your neck and given you his blood.

How you don’t seem to notice that in being undead, you do not even need to breathe anymore. How still you look for the air even unneeded.

Entertained, Astarion hums and releases your throat, settling his hands on your knees as he watches you sputter and cough as the air hits you like debris. The pain in your chest as you take in the missing air is pure catharsis.

“Yes...” He whispers moreso to himself than you, nudging his cockhead against your opening – slick with his spit. “Perhaps a chain would look better than jewelry.”

And with that, he pushes into you with a low hiss, moving slowly enough that you feel the veins and the pulsing of him even as you focus on gasping for air, the pit in your stomach dreadful and the crawl up your spine pleasured. When it feels like he’s snug inside your guts all buried inside, he leans forward and catches your lips into a terribly one-sided kiss. It makes his cock nudge further inside and you flinch from the dull, familiar ache of it all.

“Fuck,” Astarion gasps hot against your mouth and pulls away with a string of spit, slowly dragging his hips and pulling back to watch his length move out your cunt. He slams it back in and you want to shriek but you bite your tongue instead, hating how he deep he is inside of you and how slow he is – like he’s trying to get your walls to take his shape. “—I wish you were always this good for me, little mouse.”

Pleasure is so cruel to you, bowing heavy against your spine as it forces you to arch, forces your legs to spread and take in his cock deeper. Something groaning guttural crawls its way out your throat as you clench your eyes tight and twist the sheets in your fist as you’re thrown gracelessly into the ever-tightening jaw of ecstasy. Your legs shake with a tremor to it, feeling his hand ghost over your hip.

He pulls back again; and slams back inside. Over and over and over again until you feel like you’re turning mad yet again, sweat beading at your forehead and sounds not so easily beckoned now tumbling out your mouth.

You once foolishly thought that with being undead comes the death of sensation in your body – the way your body flinches and burns so alive with every strong nudge of his cockhead into you just proves you so wrong. Sparks fly across your body like rocks trying to make fire when with every collision of his hips against yours, the base of his cock grinds so deliciously against your sensitive, reddened clit.

One particularly rough slam of his hips has you keening; the soft curls on his base bumping your bundle of nerves in a way that has you keening into him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down, closer and closer until you feel so utterly consumed by him in the same way you did that wretched night.

Another sound, one so feral and from the heart is forced out of you when his hips stutter teasingly, a moan so out of place from a voice unused and locked away when your stomach all but tightens when that thrust forces your hole to slacken and his cock to nudge at something so soft and delicate inside your walls. And you shriek like a murdered woman when he laughs so mean and thrusts even meaner.

He continues to thrust, thrust and thrust like some bully to that one little spongy spot, groaning st your little moan-shrieks. Your mouth stretches into a scowl as your teeth mash together in an effort to sweat through the pure pleasure that swarms your head and makes you see dots, only vaguely aware of the slick foam that runs down your thighs. All purely and humilatingly your arousal.

“A-Astarion,” You raspily grit out, locking your bruised knees around his hips and feeling a pleasant soreness bloom amongst yours when he gives you a response by driving in harder, tracing your throat as you throw your head back. “Astarion.”

Smooth fingers trace your neck before running up your cheek, dragging at the chub of it until your lips are apart and no longer are you scowling nor your teeth gnawing. “What?” Astarion murmurs, slurred and drunkenly kissing away the sweat that’s gathered like freshwater rain on your throat.

You open your eyes, blinking away the sting of tears and sweat mingling – and Astarion looks so godsent, romantic with his own teeth gritted and sweat down his arms as he piledrives into you.

You won’t last – you feel it the way your body is twitching with the exhaustion it takes to build up an orgasm, core burning even with the friction of slick inside. Astarion doesn’t need to be told, so very familiar with your body even in its death; so he dutifully lifts a hand from your hip and gently snakes it towards the in-between, towards your warm pussy until he finds your sensitive little button, circling the pulsing bud immediately and fondly laughing when your legs uncoil around his hips, and you shriek, squirming like you’re about to get murdered a second time. Your mind is fucking melting.

“Astarion,” you choke out, again, this time, more desperately, hand flinging out to grip at his wrist between your legs. His thrusting stutters as your voice breaks and your pretty eyes roll behind your head. “Y-you’re gonna fucking kill me, oh—”

“Don’t be a c-coward, darling.” Astarion is breathless, brows furrowing. He’s close too.

You pant.

You’re about to pop at the seams.

Your tongue lolls with every breath that heaves your chest, the ring of your entrance so tight around his cock as your body trembles with every feverish snap of hips and rub of his fingers against your red, abused bundle of nerves. The sound of slick flesh on flesh so obscene, you feel your body trembling as you throw your head back to the undercurrent of an orgasm — so strong it has white flashing hot behind your eyelids and a final, ragged whimper coming from you.

It only takes a few moments for him to catch up, his hips chasing your clenching as he throbs, pulsing once, twice against your walls until he’s spilling into them with his own warmth, contentedly sighing into the crook of your neck whilst you wince and whine lowly with satisfaction.

You both stay there, unmoving, until the warm semen that runs down your thighs turns cold enough that Astarion feels he should move, slipping out your hole and letting his member hit the cold air as he hisses, sensitive. And apparently, you’re rudely startled awake out of your pliancy with the sound, tensing up like you’re about to run again. He notices before you can and kisses you stupid, lips smacking noisily with yours in a way teasing lovers would do so, before pulling away with a grin and setting you still on the bed with the weight of a blanket on you.

“Oh, no, no, none of that tonight.” You try to wrack a hiss out your scratchy throat – but it comes out as a humiliatingly feeble cough. Astarion, endeared, smiles at it and pecks your forehead, bringing the blanket up to your chin by habit as he once used to when you were sleeping in tents, under nights and by fires. “You’re always running away, you little hellion, you.”

He’s tucking you in.

He’s tucking you in.

He’s an asshole, you think. He must be teasing you. With being undead comes the inability to sleep a wink – only being able to go as far as meditation. And by the gods, you do not want to be stuck thinking of how you just let the man you despise drive his cock and seed into you – and how he’ll do it over and over again if it means you’ll stop acting out for a night or two.

Astarion eyes you, giving you a once-over as if to size up if you’d take your chances and run away. You don’t budge, narrowing your heavy eyes at him and blinking blearily, shifting in the sheets, unwilling to admit to yourself how you like the molten warmth you feel when he looks at you attentively, the warmth that runs down your inner thigh and the warmth of the blankets tucked so nicely around you. He smiles again, smoothing a hand over your hair and lowly murmuring something about cleaning you up later at night where you’re more awake and hopefully, preferably not a bat hanging off the ceiling staring at him with beady eyes.

He hums then – reassured, standing up from the bed with a creak and reaching into the drawer beside his bed for a flimsy pair of thin, reading glasses he wears.

“Be good, and stay here, okay?” He lowly coos, like a husband leaving for war wishing his ill wife goodbye, walking towards the old mahogany door and twisting the knob open. You twist your fingers and clench your eyes shut, enraged and fulfilled all the same. “I’ll see you later, I have work to do, sewing your wedding dress and all.”

The door closes, gently, and you turn to bite the pillow and scream into it.

[simonsquared]

I like to imagine that Ralsei makes impulsive goat noises when he gets angry

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Undertale characters see S/O break a bone and then S/O basically just does a Far Cry healing animation and doesn’t even care they got hurt.

Undertale Sans - He grabs your arm gently but firmly, with dark eye sockets. "b u d d y ? N e v e r d o t h a t a g a i n." He hated every second of it. What's wrong with you? Go to the hospital like a normal person, you're going to hurt yourself more.

Undertale Papyrus - He faints. First, the shock of seeing your leg on the wrong side triggered him, but you simply putting it back in place like it's nothing? That's too much man. He can take a lot of things, but this is a big no.

Undertale Toriel - .... She was about to heal you, that for sure stopped her dead in her tracks. She's speechless. And immediately turns into Goat Mom mode and starts lecturing you about how dangerous this is and how it could have hurt you even more. Now you sit down this instant and you let her heal you properly.

Undertale Asgore - He lived hundreds of years and still discovers new things. Though, that one is maybe a bit too much. The noise of the bone snapping back into place made him so uncomfortable he suddenly panics his way out of the house, pretending he needed to get groceries or something.

Undertale Undyne - She stares in awe for a few seconds. Then she explodes. "This was AWESOME. Do it AGAIN!!!" She's very excited about this. She's even ready to break your arm if you need it! Come on!

Undertale Alphys - The scientist in her leaves her body. Why even try? You clearly have no idea how to fix a bone. It's so dangerous and you just act like everything is alright now??? How??? You should be screaming in agony???

Undertale Frisk - Well they can do cool things too. Frisk immediately struggles to lick their elbow with all they have.

Undertale Chara - They roll their eyes at you. You think you're in a video game or something? They're not taking you to the hospital when you realize you're dying because of how painful this is. You did that to yourself.

Undertale Mettaton - He gasps, then runs to you with a camera. Can he break one of your bones so you can do it again and put it in his next movie? Please, please, please, pretty please....

Undertale Gaster - He hisses at you, all his goop puffing like an angry cat. This is the worst sound he has ever heard, please never do that again or he's going to blip into another dimension again!

Undertale Grillby - He stays neutral, but his fire body suddenly burns for real, which means you triggered him. And now the bar is on fire, and Sans is on fire, and all the customers are running in circles screaming for their lives. What have you done?

Undertale Muffet - No big deal, it happens all the time with her eight arms too. She doesn't even notice when one is broken with time, as she has seven other functioning ones. You're not special, who cares.

Undertale Burgerpants - Oh look at that. He's dating another weird person. Welp, that's official. He has a type apparently. He wishes he didn't have one. Why can't he date normal people who do things like normal people should?

Undertale Flowey - Did you just pull out the friendliness pellet he threw inside your arm with your teeth? "You can't do that! That's illegal! I just broke that bone, you can't fix it like it's nothing! Cheater!" He's so mad! Stop breaking his fun. He wants to kill you!

Undertale Gerson - He wiggles his eyebrows at you. You know his back is hurting as well, right? You know. A little trick like that could help like hell. Come on. Don't be shy.

[lizzy-bonnet]

We had a yelling contest there the other night to see which could yell the loudest. To my surprise I found I could. You never can tell what you can do till you try. But too many people heard us and Aunt Elizabeth was very angry. She asked me what made me do such a thing. That is an okward question because often I cant tell what makes me do things.

Having spent years working with kids I really understand the impulse to try and get them to explain why they did something but it's a fool's errand because there usually isn't a thought process at all, or if there is one, it will be so esoteric you'll regret asking, something Aunt Elizabeth never really seems to learn. Having a yelling contest on your roof during the night is an unambiguously bananas thing to do but I knew a kid who made it a big part of his personality that he could make a very convincing goat noise and did it basically everywhere he went for no reason at all. Sometimes you just have to accept that kids are weird as shit.

[cakerybakery]

Well, this was a thing. Lucifer waddled to the full length mirror and gave more of a cheep noise than full quack softly to himself as he shivered a bit in the air conditioning.

Obviously he had underestimated the distance of Charlie’s spell casting range. He was both proud and fucking annoyed.

It was supposed to be some sort of trust building exercise. The spell would turn you into a random animal that encapsulates part of your personality. Not necessarily a person’s sinner form, which was made up of things like their death and what kind of life they led. But some aspect of their personality.

And apparently some aspect of his personality was a duckling. Not even a proper drake. He was a fucking duckling. A god damned fucking baby duck. Very young baby duck given his fuzziness, voice, and how cold he was.

Well. He was going to stay right here and wait out the spell.

The ground turned red and a pentagram drew itself under his webbed feet.

‘Oh shit.’ He cheeped.

He was teleported into the lobby.

A goat he could only guess was Charlie from the blonde fur, the standing on the coffee table, the angry bleating, the arcane magic swirling around her dropping other animals around the room.

A screech filled the lobby and had he been a real duckling and not the fucking devil, it might have scared the shit out of him. From the chandelier a one eyed hawk called out to interrupt the chaos.

There was crashing and shuffling by the bar.

Lucifer tried to fly but his wings were still too babish to do anything. He waddled around the couch and gave a confused little “cheep?”

A bear with a bow tie was knocking over a couple bottles of alcohol for a red fox to lap up.

‘Okay, that’s. Charlie the stubborn goat. Vaggie with the hawk eye. Umm Husk as a grump bear. Angel is a fox? That leaves Alastor, Niffty, and Adam.’

There was a scuttling under the couch and Lucifer peaked. Quick as a whip a tail lashed out at him. The stinger bounced off him harmlessly.

‘Alastor.’ He quacked and kept waddling.

Charlie continued to bleat but no one could understand her and continued to do their own thing.

He should look for their last two party members. The stairs were so fucking far away though when you had tiny little legs. When he finally got to the stairs he realized he was too short to get up the first step.

He cheeped loudly in distress, trying to get anyone’s attention.

There was the sound of hooves on the carpeting, one he knew well from years of hearing his own hooves, and Charlie was there.

She nuzzled him with her nose and he rubbed his head back as he softly cheeped. She was warm. Charlie nudged him back towards the seating in the lobby. Urging him to go back over.

Lucifer gave the stairs a forlorn look but he couldn’t search the hotel for Adam and Niffty. He was too small. They walked back, well, Charlie more did a little trot and he waddled. But they made it back.

She nudged the spell book off the coffee table, bleating at him and pawing the pages. Lucifer carefully flipped to the correct page with his beak.

‘This isn’t going to work, sweetie.’ He tried to tell her. But little baby quacks were all that came out.

He could have to show her. He cheeped out the incantation for ending the spell early and nothing happened.

They could do nothing but wait. The spell would end at midnight, a little less than twelve hours.

Lucifer did his best to shrug and Charlie sat down with a little bleat.

Waddling over, he nuzzled her leg to comfort her and seek warmth. She cuddled back for a minute before bleating some more and getting up. The way she creased her brow made him think she’d thought of something and she trotted off.

She bleated at Vaggie and the two of them started up to the next floor and out of sight.

He looked around and gave a little shake to ruffle up his feathers for warmth.

A blanket was hanging from the couch so Lucifer hopped to bite it. The fabric between his teeth, he braced his feet against the couch and pulled. He flapped his tiny wings as hard as he could. The blanket wouldn’t budge and he lost his grip.

Lucifer fell on his fluffy butt with a surprised cheep.

He worked out how to get back to his webbed feet and tried again. This time it seemed to move a little but the results were the same. On his fuzzy ass.

Waddling back and forth, he calculated where exactly to grab the blanket for maximum effect. He had been jumping for the corner but where to go from there?

Softly padding up to him, Angel cocked his head curiously.

Lucifer looked up at the blanket and jumped, snapping at the corner.

Angel seemed to understand and he leapt up onto the couch. Soon the blanket tumbled down.

Cheeping and flapping his little wings, Lucifer waddled in quick circles until Angel hopped down. He nuzzled the fox and Angel gave him a gentle lick to acknowledge Lucifer’s thank yous before leaving him to go back to licking spilled liquor off the bar.

He pawed, or footed? The blanket. Lucifer was trying to make himself a soft warm little nest to wait this whole thing out in, but he just couldn’t get the grip to push the blanket around like he wanted.

Cheeping to himself in frustration he plunked down sadly. He needed to be warmer and cozier.

He tried fluffing himself, moving the blankets on him, and scratching. Lucifer was still cold. Ducklings need heat. Heat they would normally get from their mothers for sometime before being able to venture out.

Lucifer was tired, cold, and getting lonely. He gave a sad little cheep and tried to sleep.

Tried. There was a tugging on his blanket and he picked up his head.

A claw snapped at him. Alastor had come out from under the couch. He was moving the blanket around and Lucifer cheeped at him.

Alastor struck and snapped at him but he missed. It took Lucifer a few tries to realize Alastor was gesturing the best he could.

Picking himself up, Lucifer waddled out of the nest and let Alastor use his claws to fix up the blankets more precisely. He waited until Alastor seemed to signal he could come back.

The nest Alastor made for him was smaller than the one he tried to make. It was cozy and Alastor pull the blanket over him to help keep him warm.

Moving around himself, Alastor settled down close.

Lucifer was pretty sure scorpions were desert animals. Alastor might have been cold in the air conditioning as well. He was happy to share the space and what little warmth there was.

It was better. But not as warm as he really needed.

He cheeped to see if someone could come keep them warm.

Angel padded softly closer and turned his head in confusion.

Lucifer cheeped louder and shivered.

Stepping around the blanket, Angel curled up around them. Nudging Lucifer with his nose and making little yips.

He cuddled back. Finally feeling warm.

Alastor pulled away a bit but didn’t leave the nest.

Cozy in Angel’s fluff, Lucifer tried for that nap again.

He was woken up by big hands picking him up. Lucifer gave a sleepy cheep and leaned into the warmth.

“Just going to move you, okay?” Adam assured him and ran a thumb over Lucifer’s small head.

Lucifer was put down on the couch and he moved Alastor next. Placing him on the next cushion.

He got everyone accounted for, even Niffty, a ladybug, and Keekee who was a normal looking cat. Then picked up the spell book.

Adam easily recited the counter spell and everyone returned to normal.

“You fuckers got lucky that being human is practically my whole fucking personality.” Adam snorted as his horns and other demonic features returned. “And that KeeKee woke me up from my nap when she was chasing Niffty around.”

Charlie groaned. “Well, that was a failure.”

Lucifer looked down at the little nest still on the floor, it was a little misshapen now but still there. He looked at Alastor in his spot on the couch. Then to Angel who was already teasing Husk.

“I don’t know about that.” He got up and joined Charlie. “From what I saw, even though we couldn’t really talk to each other, we still did our best to help each other out.”

He told her about Husk still serving Angel, despite their limitations. How Angel and Alastor helped him make a nest. And how Angel helped keep them warm.

Pointed out that when he called for help at the stairs, she came to him. That even though she and Vaggie couldn’t speak they still communicated.

Lucifer couldn’t say that Niffty went to Adam for help, since there was no one that could understand what went on in her head. But Adam noticed something was wrong right away and stopped KeeKee from eating Niffty. That had to count for something.

Looking over at the bar where their friends had gathered to try and clean up, Charlie agreed that it probably did count for something.

-

@lilacwriter07 there all done. Thanks for your help about what to make Husk and Angel.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Burning a shapeshifter's skin

I came across this werewolf folktale from France, in which a man saves a strange woman from the werewolf curse by burning the skin she uses to transform:

A hunter from Montrond had returned to a cabin at a time when the people of the mountain had left their cabins. After a while he heard a loud noise; he hid in a corner and saw the door in the middle of the barn open, and a werewolf with a bear skin on its back came into the cabin. He shed his skin and a beautiful young girl emerged. She lit a fire in the hearth. She had beautiful big hair and she started combing and grooming herself. When he saw this, the man came out of his hiding place and grabbed the girl by the hair; she began to scream and struggle, but nothing helped: he held her with force and, with his other hand, he took her bearskin and set it on fire. When it was completely destroyed, she thanked him wholeheartedly for freeing her of that thing. (Collected from Philomène Sambuis by Joisten Charles in 1961)

Despite the presence of violence, the story frames this as an act of kindness. I'm rather glad it doesn't end with her marrying him, but it did make me wonder why I've never seen a folktale where the animal skin of a selkie or swan maiden is burned...

One the one hand it makes sense, because werewolves are generally seen as cursed humans while selkies and swan maidens are born shapeshifters. But on the other hand, while burning a werewolf's skin or belt is a common theme (Dutch examples), there are also tales about werewolves who scream and flee in rage or terror when their skins are burned (Het weerwolfsvel verbrand). And there are plenty of fairy tales who use this trope in various ways:

• In many variants of the Romanian tale "The Enchanted Pig" a prince is cursed to be a pig but can take his skin off at night to become a human. When his wife burns the skin he is furious and she has to redeem herself. Sometimes it is implied the curse would have lifted on its own if she had been patient, but in others he just seems angry she did it at all.

• The Russian tale "The Tsarevna Frog" is similar. The Tsarevitch who marries a cursed maiden burns her frog skin and has to suffer for it. Because instead of breaking her curse it turns her into a swan that flies away for him to rescue.

• In the some versions of "Hans my Hedgehog" burning the hedgehog skin is punished too, while in some it cures the shapeshifting (even while in some cases the hedgehog wasn't born to humans, but was an adopted animal, like in the Indian stories about a crab husband). But in the Grimm's version Hans specifically instructs to burn his animal skin so he can be human permanently.

• In the folktale "The Dog Bride" from the Santal Parganas in India a herdboy marries a dog after seeing it shed its dog skin and become a beautiful maiden. She only turns human when her husband is asleep, but one night he manages to catch her and burns her skin, leaving her permanently in her beautiful woman shape. The story does not say she was cursed.

• In the story "The Mouse Maiden" from Shri Lanka the princess does seem to have been cursed to shapeshift between a girl and a mouseling, but she weeps when her husband burns her mouse jacket at the advice of her mother.

• The girl in the Greek tale "The Goat Girl" seems just as upset. She is the goat child born to a woman, who can shapeshift at will, and tries to throw herself into the oven her groom burns her goatskin in. It isn't clear if this is a compulsion or an act of grief.

• And there's also the tale "The Little Donkey", collected by the Grimms, in which a queen gives birth to a donkey who is then married to a princess and only then starts to turn human at night. The father of the bride burns the donkey skin, but unlike the other shapeshifters on this list (except for the Mouse Maiden) the donkey prince does not even notice until the next morning. He is terrified and tries to flee, until the king begs him to stay.

All this to say, these folktales are very divided on whether burning a shapeshifter's animal skin is the right thing to do. And it does not always depend on whether you are dealing with a cursed human or a born shapeshifter either! So I really wonder if there really aren't any folktales about selkies or swan maidens that involve the (attempted) burning of their skin, or if I just haven't found them yet...

[getmeoutofhell]

Hi 👋 may I please request some Malthus x reader head canons? I can't get enough of this ram/goat demon 😍 (I forget if he's a goat or a ram)

You're awesome btw! You and your work are amazing!

Malthus x reader headcanons

SFW

malthus malthus malthus, the demonic entity that takes over a doll. you and him together, no way in hell (literally), but it’s there and real. you and him met through the doll of course, which you found it in a dumpster behind your house/apartment.

surprisingly, he’s a charmer. i mean take a good look at him, anyone with a go-tee like that is a lady’s man that’s for sure. he’s almost the complete opposite of valak, besides the demonic parts. he’ll get you flowers and gifts.

he’s the jealous type. the type that will kill another man or women that gets to close. the type that will make you stay inside for days at a time, in fear you’ll try to leave him. sometimes he does leave the doll and transform/teleport to something else causing you to also worry about what he’s up to at the moment.

does he talk? no. you never hear a single word come out of that demon. but what you do hear are growls/snarls. he makes a lot of noise, similar to a angry dog or cat. sometimes you can’t do anything but sit there and stare at him, wondering what the hell have you gotten yourself into.

speaking of which, he’s very vocal…through other people. meaning, he posses other living things or a person, and makes you think your going dog shit insane. it’s his loving touch if you will.

you’ve talked to him about the doll annabelle, and asked him nicely to please not possess it while you’re with him. you swear, that doll has a mind of it’s own…

NSFW

malthus in the section is the most freaky demon imaginable. his long tongue and long fingers will have you wishing he was always in his demon form.

as i said previously, he doesn’t talk, so expect to hear his groans in the bedroom as well. he’s a licking kinda man, his tongue will spread all over your body like a disease. licking over every nook and cranny of your skin, like he’s starving for you.

you will have a few scratches over your body, considering his long unkept nails. every once in a while, you have to put a bandaid over a scar because he scratched to deep in your skin. maybe now you can try and convince him to clip them.

you like going out in public?? well make sure you pack extra underwear, or even some extra pants because this dude will have your legs shaking in front of your friends. he can be a very sneaky demon when it come to sex.

so enjoy your little demon, let me know how is goes.

thanks for the kind words!! 💕

[goat-yells-at-everything]

So I've decided I'm not going to use acrylic or polyester yarn anymore in my crafts because the micro plastic industry needs to die.

You would think I was asking for gold and diamond yarn for how few options there are. Even a lot of the etsy yarns turn out to be blends with polyester in them!

I get it. Plastic yarn is cheaper and easier to make AND easier to work with, especially dark colors. But still!

Gawd I can't wait to have my goats or even angora rabbits. I'll make my own fucking yarn. Xc

[kay-lalala]

What I hope to see in PJO TV Episode 6

I’m guessing the episode is gonna cover the chapters “We Take a Zebra to Vegas” and “We Shop for Water Beds". So I made a list of things that are in the book/story beats and could be included. Hoping for more book accuracy this time tbh.

The animal transport

-The zebra, the albino lion and the antelope. I saw an ostrich I think in the trailer so maybe that’s an addition but I don’t know why they would change the original animals

-The animals having the wrong food and the trio changing that, taking care of them, giving them water, cutting off the balloon etc

-Grover getting angry about that and maybe even trying to leave to start a fight with the drivers. Did they mention he’s a vegetarian yet?

-Grover talking to the animals (I’m still hoping for goat noises)

-Since the spiders were cut out of the waterpark scene maybe it will come up some other way? Since Percy uses it to help Annabeth snap out of the Lotus Casino trance. + the Athena/Arachne story

-”We’re a team, remember?” (even though I wished they would have shown that teamwork of the trio in the waterpark)

-Annabeth and Percy sharing an Oreo

-I guess they will not talk about Thalia and Grover because Percy already knows and they cut out the Iris message scene where Luke mentions it. So I wonder if they will talk about something else. Maybe more Annabeth backstory/her family. Maybe Annabeth and Percy uplifting Grover.

-Since they cut the Poseidon/Athena rivalry discussion I guess there will be no ‘I don’t know what my mom will do. I just know I’ll fight next to you.” “Why?” “Because you’re my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?” Maybe there will be a similar scene

-Percy dreaming about Thalia and Luke and Kronos and his mother in front of Hades’ throne

-The drivers taunting the animals and Grover getting mad about it

-Annabeth tricking them into fighting by knocking on the wall

-The zebra talking to Percy (and him figuring out that it’s because Poseidon created horses)

-Grover blessing the animals + the “Why can’t you place a blessing like that on us?” “It only works on wild animals.” “So it would only affect Percy.”

-Percy freeing the animals

The Lotus Casino

-Epic games and water slides and bungee jumping and stuff like that

-Percy throwing Ares’ backpack in the trash and it later returning to him

-The kids enjoying the room, getting new clothes etc

-Percy teasing Annabeth for watching National Geographic

-Grover playing the reverse hunter game

-Annabeth playing trivia games and a city builder sim

-People that look like they are from all kinds of different time periods

-Groovy Darrin

-Percy getting suspicious and asking everyone what year it is

-Percy realizing and being scared that he forgot his mom’s name for a second

-Percy helping Annabeth snap out of it (not with spiders probably, so with something else?)

-Sudden weather change when they leave, stormy, checking the date to realize there is only one day left

-Apparently they go there on purpose because Hermes is there? I’m just hoping that they will for once actually fall for a trap and not just avoid everything because Annabeth is *~too smart~*.

The Santa Monica Beach + The Waterbed Palace

-Annabeth has the idea to use the casino cards for a cab

-The cab driver calls Annabeth “Your Highness” after seeing the infinite money

-Percy tells the trio about his dream and they start to realize something’s wrong because they were talking about two items, but they settle for “It has to be Hades” for now

-”You have evil thoughts for a goat.” “Why, thank you.”

-Percy walking into the sea in Santa Monica and letting a shark take him further to the edge of a huge chasm (could look super cool)

-The nereid riding on a sea horse

-Percy having flashbacks to seeing faces in the sea when he was a kid because she said they were watching him

-The nereid telling Percy to not judge his father and that they are not allowed to show favoritism

-She giving him the three pearls and explaining how they work

-”You have gifts you have only begun to know. The oracles have foretold a great and terrible future for you, should you survive to manhood.”

-”What belongs to the sea will always return to the sea.”

-In the Mississippi she said “don’t trust the gifts” so maybe she will say it now? Referencing Luke’s shoes and hinting again at his betrayal.

-Annabeth “No gift comes without a price.”

-Someone on the street recognizing Percy from TV

-I guess they already showed Gabe so they won’t see him on the News again? Though I think the young woman sitting next to him would make him more despicable because he replaced Sally immediately

-A gang of kids surrounding the trio and Percy scaring them off with Riptide

-While running from them going into Crusty’s waterbed palace

-God I hope they don’t cut it

-Crusty looking kinda reptilian

-Grover and Annabeth getting trapped on the waterbeds getting streched to be 6 feet tall

-Percy remembering the story of Procrustes and tricking him into laying down on a bed and killing him

-The trio finding the address to DOA records

[jurijyuu]

Scratch an Itch Chapter 27: Fool Me Once

Link to full chapter on AO3

Ynna’s POV

Two days. You hadn’t left your room in two days. Hunger, both regular and infernal, gnawed at your insides as you sat curled in a ball by your window. While Charlie and Angel brought you food, you ignored their concerned urging. This was punishment, after all. Punishment for your foolishness, for trusting so freely, for taking Alastor’s sudden interest in you for granted in the beginning. 

For still wishing you could hear his soft old timey music and humming white noise right now.

God, you’re pathetic.

You should have known when he struck that deal that he didn’t view you as any exception to his tricks. No. You knew. You just chose to ignore it. Alastor had always been a psychopath, willing to undermine and torture others for the sake of entertainment. Beneath the seemingly effortless charm lay a monster and just because he moved with grace and breathtaking elegance, considerate and attentive care with you, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t turn his monstrosity against you still.

You should have known when he gave you that blood potion, created from self-harm just so he could lessen your pain. What it symbolized, a selflessness within that sociopathic mind, allowed you to accept his twisted nature so long as he sincerely cared about you. But he never cared, did he? Not truly. Not enough to put the sanctity of your body over his ever hungry craving for something to stimulate his sick mind. 

You understood all this now, in the calm after all your tears had been cried. While most of the fault lay with the one who conspired against you, it was also fair to share some of the blame for being too naive and trusting. However, understanding all of this didn’t stop the deep-seated anger and sadness that he cut into your heart with each dish he admitted to tampering. In fact, it only made it worse.

A laughing smile and a wink as he delivered the punchline. A light nudge to make sure you didn’t step on shit. The unforgiving curve of his back as sharp eyes smirked at you.

Pathetic.

Leaning against the cool window pane, your faint reflection mimicked your sighs. Maybe if you sat under the windowsill, you could grow roots and survive the rest of eternity on water and photosynthesis. That seemed fitting since it was your stupid mouth that got you into this mess.

Alastor’s POV

It was only the second day of Ynna’s self-imposed isolation but he already ran out of excuses to pass by her doorway just to see if this time, he could chance upon her emerging. Only a little over 48 hours and his promise to wait for her already seemed a bite too big for him to chew. And yes, he had meant to use a food-related saying. Food and dining were all he could think of when it became clear that Ynna was not only rejecting everyone’s company, but she was also rejecting her meals.

As an individual who shared his love of food, starving herself was too drastic of a move. Even when it made her queasy, the goat would still eat because her appetite wasn’t one to be ignored. It was one of the things he adored about her. Was she rejecting her meals because he was the one who cooked them? The thought stung more than it should have though her lack of trust in his entrees and snacks was understandable.

He tried not to fret, not to appear to be fretting. Not in front of the princess and her worried questions or Vaggie and her angry accusations. He had no desire to share details of their quarrel to anyone. It was just that he heavily disapproved of this act of self-harm. 

He stared at the closed door for another moment, seeing the shadows subtly move in the crack under the doorway. She was still in there, moving about, pacing, it seemed. There was that, at least. She hadn’t thought to run away or get drunk out of her mind again. She still seemed healthy enough from what little he could gather without crossing anymore of her boundaries. It would be so easy to send his shadow to watch her but that would be another invasion upon her that he couldn’t afford. 

Perhaps, tomorrow; tomorrow he could see his dearest.

[coyotestarcraft]

I’d Sacrifice Myself For You Dorks Any Day (Part 2)

Good Omens Imagines

A/N: Sorry it took a while, but it’s finally done! It’s extra long because why not?

Warnings: Cussing, Blood, Injuries, panic attack.

Part 1

——————————

After being discharged from the hospital, you went home to recover.

“Easy love, the couch isn’t going anywhere.” Crowley chuckled at how fast you wanted to go inside and rest.

“He’s right.” The angel smiles.

“Sorry, I just wanna sleep.” Your eyes are drooping already and the boys are concerned you might not make to Crowley’s flat, so instead the demon picks you carrying you all the way up so you don’t hurt yourself.

“Baby goat, you gotta take your medicine before you sleep.” Crowley said, you groaned but took it anyway when it was handed to you.

“Sleep well my love.” Aziraphale softly kissed your cheek as sleep took over.

*Dream*

Shax had come to kill you for meddling with Aziraphale and Crowley.

But you weren’t going to let her just take them away without a fight, the boys tried telling you not to fight her but in the end it wouldn’t matter, your temper was off the charts to be stopped now.

*After Fighting (cause I’m too lazy to write it, sorry)*

You stood on wobbly legs, facing Shax as she stood in front of you with her hands covered in your own blood.

Your face was covered in blood from when she slashed your eye leaving three angry marks dripping in blood, as many cuts and bruises littered your body as well.

“You foolish human, you’ll never amount to anything ever, your just a waste of space.” She snarled with a smirk breaking out on her face.

“FUCK YOU!” You screamed.

She gave you one last chance to surrender but you weren’t losing anyone else, in a desperate attempt to save the boys you lunged at Shax, knocking her off the bridge into the water for her to rot.

The last you heard before passing out “Y/N! Hold on love we’re coming!”

“y/n…” a voice called from somewhere unknown.

“Y/n…”

“Y/N love wake up!” Azira’s voice finally filtered through just enough to startle you awake.

You shot up from your spot on the couch, a loud gasp erupted from you, soon deep, fast breaths left you, a panic attack was happening.

“My love, look at me, it’s okay, your safe.” Aziraphale tried to hug you but it only made you panic more, you flinched at the thought of even being close to anyone.

“Sweetheart, I know your scared, it’s okay, take some deep breaths for me.” Crowley was never this soft, not even with Aziraphale but in the current moment he didn’t care, all he wanted was for you to feel safe and loved.

“I-I c-can’t! I-I cant b-breathe!” You whimper out unable to take in any air, 10 seconds passed until your throat finally starts to open, you gasp for air as you accidentally squeeze your wrists too tight.

“I’m taking your hands so you don’t hurt yourself okay?” Crowley says, you give a shaky nod, slowly taking in air.

“Your doing amazing love, take some more deep slow breaths for me.” The angel smiled, his hand gently moving up and down your back soothingly.

You leaned forward to put your head in the crook of Crowley’s neck, you hiccup as you start to calm down, “there you go baby, we’ve got you.” He cooed.

A few minutes passed when they both heard soft snores coming from you.

Crowley gently layed you down on the couch, covering you back up with the blanket you were snuggling with. “Sleep love, we’re here and we aren’t leaving.” Aziraphale cooed as he kissed your temple.

You slept peacefully with your head in Crowley’s lap, he eventually moved you to be more comfortable so he could help Aziraphale cook dinner.

————

A soft hand carded through your hair as you slept.

Crowley cooed until you started to wake up making the cutest noises he’s ever heard, course he’d never admit it out loud.

“There’s my sweetheart, it’s dinner time love.” He smiled as you peeled open your eyes letting out a small yawn.

“What’s cooking?” You asked as you threw the blanket off you and stretched.

“Chicken Parmesan with a salad.” The angel responded from the kitchen.

“Sounds good, I’m so hungry.” You smile as Aziraphale sets a plate down in front of you.

You take a bite and instantly melt in your seat, it’s been at least a week since you had a real home cooked meal. “It’s good I assume?” The angel smiles.

“Mhm, very good, thank you for dinner.” You smile back at your angel, he came over to kiss your cheek lovingly before digging into his own plate.

A while later you are snuggled between the boys watching a movie.

Soon after you fell asleep, Aziraphale carried you to bed with Crowley close behind.

They both tucked you into bed as snug as a bug in a rug.

“Goodnight my love.” Aziraphale kissed your forehead before wishing Crowley goodnight.

“G’ night sweetheart, night angel.” The demon responded back as both celestial beings let their wings out to wrap around you.

Recovery was always comfortable if it meant two celestial beings were by your side.

————

Thank you for reading!

If you have any requests you want me to write feel free to send them in. I want to try NSFW requests so feel free to send those too.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Someone uses the spell that turns them into an animal for a day. What are they and how do they react?

Undertale Sans - He's a blobfish. Welp. That happened. He can't really do anything about it. He's just... there. Strangely, though, he thinks it's not that bad. He's even a little sad when he has to go back to his normal form. It was an experience.

Undertale Papyrus - He's a goose. He's even more loud now, and scaring everyone around. To help Undyne realize he's Papyrus, he actually picks up a knife, to show her he's civilized. Undyne takes that as a threat and now Papyrus is running for his life, screaming, terrified she's going to roast him or something.

Underswap Sans - He's a sloth. He's so frustrated about this. He wants to do things, he really wants to! But everything is just... SLOW. SO SLOW. He wants to scream, run, and jump everywhere but just moving an arm is killing him. He's not going to survive. Please someone save him!

Underswap Papyrus - He's a Tenessee Fainting Goat. You know, these goats who faint at any source of stress? Welp. That doesn't change too much from usual. Except now Blue is having the fun of his life scaring the hell out of him just to watch him fall over, paralyzed. That's actually not funny :( He doesn't like it.

Underfell Sans - He's a very pissed-off hippopotamus. He can't think clearly anymore, all he knows is that he's angry and that he feels like he has to charge anything moving too close. He sent a lot of people to the hospital that day, including his brother and Undyne, then the King and the Queen they called in despair for help to control him. Red is the strongest monster ever created like that. But, as soon as he's returning to normal, he's in big trouble.

Underfell Papyrus - He's a shoebill. He has an angry face, he can makes gun noises with his mouth and he can stare right through your soul for hours. Everyone hates that. At least, it's fitting. Edge feels so powerful. He made three kids cry already and he intends to make many more run in fear before the end of the day.

Horrortale Sans - He's a big round panda. He doesn't know what to do with his body and won't stop knocking on everything in the house, despite Willow begging him to go outside. He just wants to curl up somewhere and sleep but he's just so big that nothing is comfortable. After some time, desperate, he goes outside and grabs a terrified cow to make a pillow.

Horrortale Papyrus - At this point, he thinks the universe hates him. He's a giraffe. Somehow, he's even taller than a normal giraffe. Obviously, since he can't hide because of his size, he got captured and pushed into a zoo, where an old giraffe matriarch didn't stop to parade to breed with him. He prefers to not talk about all of this anymore. Worst day of his life, he even got fined in the morning for entering the giraffe enclosure without any authorization, despite him screaming he was the giraffe all along. Hard day.

Swapfell Sans - He's a peacock. He was fine with it until Rus harassed him to fan his tail again and again and start making random people pay to enter HIS house to see him parade and take pictures. He's not against easy money, but he knows he won't see the color of that money and that's basically abusing his situation. So, after two hours, Nox decides he has enough and starts attacking the children, making them run in fear and terror. Once they're all gone, he attacks his brother lol. Rus has to hide in a tree to escape him. Nox waits for him silently on the floor, staring into his soul.

Swapfell Papyrus - He's an elephant seal... His nose is way too big and he can't do anything except rolling on himself and be loud to complain about the situation. He's too big to fit into the house, but he transformed there. He's literally stuck in the bathtub as Nox threw him there with blue magic to get him out of the way. He's splashing water pathetically, waiting for this nightmare to end.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He's a llama. He's mad. And he won't stop spitting at anyone really. Unfortunately, Coffee saw you can ride lamas on Minecraft and now they're wandering in the city because Wine can't say no to his brother, and certainly not like that. A police officer asks Coffee to put him on a muzzle because he's too dangerous and bite three people in the park who tried to touch him lol. Wine can't believe Coffee agreed. He feels so humiliated.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's a fly.... Wine is so scare he might die he locks him in a jar for the day. Poor Coffee is flying in circles all day long, bored. It's not like he can even say he's bored so... Eventually, he falls asleep and spends the rest of the day. The only problem is that his foot stays stuck inside the jar when he grows up again and he has to go to the hospital to take it off lol.