#Ark Open Farm

[world-of-wales]

CATHERINE'S STYLE FILES - 2020

12 FEBRUARY 2020 || The Duchess of Cambridge took the 5 Big Questions Survey to Northern Ireland as she visited The Ark Open Farm in County Down.

[cissa-thalassina]

30.06.24 - Noah's Ark Zoo Farm

Spent a great day visiting NAZF today for the first time! Although some of the exhibits are showing their age (thinking specifically of some parts of the reptile house and the small domestics barn) I was on the whole very impressed with the majority of the zoo.

Highlights included Andean bears, getting to see white headed vultures for the first time and rarities like Spix's guan (!) although my favourite part of the day was ofc getting to see the zoo's four Africa elephants utilise the largest elephant exhibit in the UK 🥹

[iceinwhb]

Whb iceberg.

We start from curiosities, data that we can realize at first sight and descend to the murky ones. I clarify that I will also attach non-canon theories.

• In hell, a hundred years have passed since Solomon disappeared, while, on earth, since 931 BC.

• Not only Solomon, but also God and Lilith.

• Satan has a barcode on his arm, and sleep with his eyes open.

• Death does not exist in Paradise Lost, because of Gamigin.

• Beel left Abyssos since Solomon's disappearance.

• Orias will never stop consuming souls. Youth is never eternal, and by obtaining Levi's soul, it would only stop it for a while.

• Satan has confirmed that he has lost his home.

• Angels can also be humanized.

(Theory)

• Ark Academy and whb are connected.

• Solomon also had to drink human semen to stay in hell.

• Demons are infertile. Except for kings, because they have enough power not to use Lilith.

• All six deadly sins are needed to defeat Lucifer.

• Demons and angels can change shape. It influence their emotions.

• Bael tries to be a copy of Beel. He must follow the shape-shifting, from hair dyeing to limb mutilation, because he made a deal.

• Minhyeok is no longer human. Due to Mc's deal with Satan, nothing can kill him while it is in effect.

(Theory)

• Gamigin and Serenade will never see each other again. Since they reside in different realities.

(Theory)

• Beel wants to eat Mc.

(Theory)

• Morax's skill. Absorbs wounds, even if they are fatal.

• Beel has eaten angels.

• Solomon can possess the bodies where his soul resides.

• In hell, crimes of all kinds can be committed, without being punished. This also applies in heaven.

• Bael's comic. He almost died for impersonating Beel. Still can't explain what happened.

• Solomon has all the filias. Even the most questionable ones.

• Angels have orgies.

• Christmas cards. It's sexual abuse.

• Leviathan is the first, and the one who has forced Mc the most to have sex.

• Beel has died thousands of times because of angels.

• Death lines. Canonically they die in battle.

• The Glassyalabolas filia.

• Solomon knows what happened to Lilith and God.

• Fruit of the tree of knowledge.

• God and Lilith are dead.

(Theory)

• The real Gamigin committed suicide.

• Ronove is going to take the fingers from Mc's corpse.

• Leviathan was going to end Solomon's lineage.

• Kamikaze angels.

• Jjok was abandoned in the forest to die.

• Buer, Morax and Marbas have died hundreds of times.

• Satan has anger problems that can kill Mc.

• Mammon and Valefor could kill Mc by accident if they apply the wrong force.

• Angelification is so painful that it breaks a demon's mind.

• Mc has a high probability of dying if ignores where may or not be in Paradise Lost. This implies that Lucifer can kill anyone with just a voice command.

• Demons were the first to experiment with angels.

• The massacres of the angels. This includes the demonic, angelic race and the near extinction of dragons.

• Andre's past. (He carried his twin's head for days.)

• The archangels will never get the punishment they deserve.

• Leviathan and Orias' constant abuse on the farm.

⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧

Does anyone else have any interesting or shady data?

It took me a day to gather information in my head, but that's it! I appreciate knowing that the shape-shifting is different, between angels, and Beel's camp.

Edit: Yeah, as soon as I realize my man is a walking red flag, it's confirmed that Levi baby never tries to have a forceful response from Mc, or tries to get her to ask him first.

[topazy]

Silent bloom

Pairing: Bellamy Blake × reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 3.02

“It’s been three hours,” Bellamy says, breaking the tense silence. “What are they waiting for?”

Frustrated, Monty taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “We should make a run for it.”

“No,” you mutter. “Soon as we step outside this, they’ll attack.” Ice Nation had you pinned down; you had been stuck in the same spot for hours. It worried you more that they hadn’t attacked yet and were just toying with you.

“They can also wait longer than us,” Indra points out.

“Fine, but we are lambs to the slaughter if we just walk out. We need to come up with a plan.”

“Okay, Bellamy,” Kane says. “You get in the turret, and you cover us. Once we get to that ridge over there, we’ll cover you.”

“Copy that; run fast.” Hesitantly, Bellamy does what he’s told. His hand lightly brushes over your back before opening the hatch. Slowly, he lifts his head out, but before he can bring his gun up, he freezes. “They’re here.”

“Everybody out, or the boy dies!”

Bellamy is suddenly yanked out of the river through the hatch. “We’re coming.” You lean over and forcefully shove at the door handle to open it. “Just don’t hurt him.”

“Wait-” Kane tries to stop you, but it’s too late. As soon as you unlock it, someone grabs you by the arm and tosses you to the ground.

You let out a loud grunt, feeling someone’s knee pressing into your back and keeping you in place. Shit, this was your fault for being so desperate to try and save him. Lifting your head, you meet Bellamy’s eyes. He shakes his head, urging you to stop struggling. Kane and Indra are thrown down beside you and are pinned down in the same way you are.

“All targets are secure!”

You found it strange to hear the grounders talking in English and not their own language. The grounders are wearing masks, so it’s hard to determine if they are definitely an ice nation or from another clan. It’s hard to pick up what is being said, but you don’t hear a single word being said in Trigedasleng. “It’s not grounders,” you mutter. “It’s not grounders.”

You fight the urge to scream when you hear Finn’s voice telling you to speak up. You’re snapped out of your train of thought when you hear Monty struggling as he’s yanked to his feet. “Give it back; it’s mine!”

“Monty, let it go!”

One of the grounders steps forward; their voice shakes as they say, “Monty?”

He stares across at the ground, his face twisting slightly as if he’s seen a ghost. “Mom?”

She pulls off her mask and runs to him, sobbing. She pulls him into a hug. “My boy, my boy, I thought I’d lost you.”

“Farm station, stand down.”

The person pinning you down lifts their knee off your back, and within seconds, Bellamy is beside you, helping you to your feet. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, are you?”

“Yeah…” leaning in close enough so only you can hear him say, “You had that look in your eyes again.”

“I’m fine.” You look across at the man who’s talking to Kane and ask, “Who’s that? He looks familiar.”

“Charles Pike was an earth skills teacher on the Ark.”

You wipe the loose dirt off your jeans with your hands as you walk over to them, beside Bellamy. A small smile is playing on your lips as you watch Monty reunite with his mom; the both of them look so happy to have found each other again. Kane looks around, trying to count how many survivors there are. “How many of you are there?”

“Sixty-three. The rest are camped in the mountains north of here. Grounder killers one and all, am I right?”

“Ohh rah!”

When everyone from the farm station cheers, you lock eyes with Indra. You chew on your lower lip for a moment before saying, “We still need to find Clarke.”

With his interest piqued, Pike turns to you and asks, “Clarke Griffin?”

Pike then turns back to face Bellamy, saying, “If only all my earth skills students were as good as her.”

Bellamy grins and shakes his hand. “It’s good to see you, sir.”

There wasn’t something about Pike you immediately didn’t trust. You go and stand beside Indra as Kane tells the others to go move the tree. Quietly, you say, “I haven’t spent much time with your people, but I know you’ve faced worse things than we ever have and probably have a lot of knowledge that we don’t.”

“What is it you want to know?”

“Can you tell if someone is dangerous to us?”

She gives you a knowing look, but instead of answering you, she cuts in on Pike, telling Kane how many people have been killed since arriving on earth. “The ice nation can be ruthless. Take pride in the numbers you saved.”

"Indra, this is Charles Pike. He was a teacher on the ark,” Kane says, patting Pike’s shoulder. “This is Indra. She’s the leader of Trikru and a trusted ally.”

Pike gives her a death stare and says, “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Indra is one of us,” you snap defensively. “She’s our person.”

—

The ride to the trading post is almost as tense as it was when you thought the Ice Nation wanted to attack. Soon as Monty pulls up to the building, Kane and Bellamy jump out. You wait a beat before doing the same.

Kane raises his hand, silently telling everyone to stop walking. You can hear what sounds like fighting coming from inside the trading post. Bellamy runs inside and pulls the trigger. Coming in behind him, you clap your eyes at women with long braided hair covered in blood.

You lower your gun and approach her cautiously. “Are you okay? We mean you no harm.”

The grounder was looking startled, biting at the inside of her cheeks. Not wanting to scare her further, you back off.

Indra looks down at the body of the man Bellamy just killed and says, “He’s a bounty hunter.”

“He would have been looking for Clarke.”

When Indra speaks to the women in Trig, Pike barks, “English!”

Kane looks slightly taken aback but quickly says, “Pike, go outside. Take Monty and Hannah with you; search the perimeter; and make sure he is alone.”

You watch the three of them leave, and you can't shake off the uneasy feeling that has settled deep within your bones. There was just something off about Pike, his hatefulness towards Indra. It wasn’t right. Just as you go, turn your head back around and spot a shadow in the doorway.

Finn.

Deep down, you knew he wasn’t really there; he was dead. But you stare at the doorway in a trance, waiting for him to walk in, until Bellamy shakes your shoulder and says, “Are you ready?”

“Uh yeah,” you didn’t want to admit you had completely zoned out.

He looks at you concerned but doesn’t say anything about it. “We might know where Clarke is.”

Turning back to face the grounder, you give her a genuine smile and say, “Thank you.”

“Niylah.”

“Thank you, Niylah.”

—

You follow the tracks. Monty is spotted through the forest and out into an open field. You walk beside Indra silently as she leads the way. Multiple thoughts were racing through your mind at once, and you just wished you could close the noise in your brain off.

Indra stops walking and holds up her hand. “Quiet. Listen.”

The beating sounds in the distance make you feel sick; it takes you back to the night Finn handed himself over to Lexa. Quietly, you ask, “War drums?”

“Azgeda.”

Using the scope on your gun, you try to locate the exact location where the sound is coming from.

“You can tell it’s Ice Nation from the sound.” Monty asks.

“No,” she says, pointing to three dead bodies on the ground. “From them.”

Pike and Bellamy cover the others while they move their bodies, so the grounders don’t think you’ve killed anyone. You spot movement in the distance. “Holy shit, it’s Clarke.”

Her blonde hair has red streaks in it; she’s covered in dirt, but it was unmistakably hers. Feeling vibrations, you move the scope over to the right and spot an army marching directly into the path of Clarke and whoever had her bound and gagged.

Bellamy goes to run to her. Pike stops him, saying, “You’ll never make it in time.”

You crouch down and say, “We need to wait for the army to pass before getting Clarke. If they see us, we’re all dead.”

Monty points out caves nearby, which would be the best place for you to wait for the army to pass. You notice Indra lingering behind the rest of the group. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I can’t go with you.”

“Why not?”

She looks at you and Kane. “The nation has crossed the border; they’re marching against my commander. I have to warn her.”

Kane nods understandingly and says, “We’ll find Clarke.”

“You better. The ice queen gets her first; she’ll be dead, and we’ll be at war.”

—

Inside the cave, you sit closest to the entrance, keeping an eye out for any enemies approaching, while the others sit further in the darkness, trying to get some sleep. You felt conflicted; you wanted to save Clarke and were willing to save your life to do that, but she also abandoned her people. Once she was saved, would Clarke even want to go back? You didn’t want to break Abby’s heart when you returned without her daughter.

Bellamy sits down beside you, and he squeezes your thigh lightly. It gives you comfort to feel his touch; he was the only person who made you feel safe. “What are you thinking about?”

“Indra. I wonder if she made it to her commander.”

“Hey,” he softly tilts your chin up and pecks your lips. “She’s strong, she’ll make it.”

Sighing, you rest your head on his shoulder. You listen intently as Hannah and Pike explain how Monty’s father died trying to save children who were being killed off by grounders.

“That was an ice nation,” Kane says. “Not all grounders are the same.”

“They are to me,” the words roll off Pikes tongue like poison.

You grip Bellamy's hand, holding onto him tightly. Not knowing what to say, you resume staring outside the cave, watching the army march by. Your eyes slowly flicker down to the three dead bodies laying not far from you, and a dangerous idea pops into your head.

“Bell?” You whisper.

“Yeah.”

“How much do you trust me?”

—

As you step onto the open field, the familiar sense of dread washes over you as you try your best to blend in with the army. You were surprised that Bellamy agreed with your idea of taking the clothes and masks of the dead men to blend in with the Azgeda army. It was probably one of the riskiest decisions you had made in a long time. Bellamy didn’t directly answer your question, but his actions led you to believe he did completely trust you.

In a low voice, he says, “If I get caught, you keep going, no matter what.”

“Ditto.”

You breathe in sharply before separating from his side to join the army. None of them glanced an eye in your direction as you slowly made your way to the opposite side of the army and into the woods. You’ve become so used to Bellamy observing you that you know it’s him walking a short distance behind you.

You finally stop when you reach a tree with blood on it and pull your mask off. “They can’t be far.”

“Over there,” Bellamy points to a bunker. “I’ll go in first; cover me.”

You check that nobody else is watching as he goes down the stairs, and once you’re sure the area is clear, you do the same. He waits for you at the bottom, saying, “We’ll check each side.”

Nodding, you start to walk in the opposite direction, but you only take a few steps before feeling cold metal pressing against your throat and a hand covering your mouth. The blade nips at your neck as Grounder forces you to walk towards Bellamy as he takes the gag out of Clarke’s mouth. Her hands are tied behind her back around a pole, preventing her from leaving.

“Untie Wanheda, and I’ll slit her throat.”

Bellamy attempts to fight the grounder, but is quickly knocked to the ground. His eyes are filled with fear as he begs, “Please, don't hurt her! Just let her go!”

“No,no!” Clarke protests. “I'll stop fighting and go with you. Please! Just don't kill them.”

You tilt your head back and bite down hard on the grounder's finger, causing him to yell loudly in pain. The last thing you remember is a sudden pain in the side of your head and hearing Clarke scream before everything goes black.

[docholligay]

Doc whats a dream synopsis for a horror movie that you'd die to see?

Movies are way harder for me! Okay, here's the spec preview, I guess:

Open: In a small office. Two people are sitting behind a wide wooden table, some small file folders in front of them. They are earnest, nodding while they say these things.

One the of them: We were happy to find you. It's part of our commitment to embrace core cultural components of history, in all of our work. Your unique viewpoint, can, bring so much to the investigation.

Eli (Eli is a small, feminine Jewish woman): *taps out a cigarette, lights it with a zippo* You mean because I'm a kike and the Ehrenbergs were kikes, I can summon up their ghosts?

Person: I wouldn't--

Eli: i don't know that the Ehrenbergs give a shit that my great grandparents farmed potatoes in Poland until they got a free train ride, but I'll give it a shot.

*scene change*

Eli is sitting across from a friend at a restaurant table, drinking a glass of wine*

Eli: Let me tell you something. I've been doing this for six years.

*Shot of her standing in front of a headstone with rocks on top of it*

Eli: I've seen it all. Ghosts, spells, fortune telling, psychometry, mediums--

*Shot of her sitting across from a woman leaning in toward her, their faces lit by a candle*

Eli: Kabbalah, prayer, God. it's all shit, Daniel. It's all a lie.

*shot of her walking out of the back of a congregation. We see the ark framing her as she leaves*

Eli: It's a lie we tell ourselves so we can fucking sleep at night.

*Shot of her blowing out a yahrzeit candle*

*back to the restaurant

Daniel: The Ehrenberg mansion is supposed to be the most haunted place in America.

Eli: They're all the most haunted place in America.

Daniel: No one has been allowed inside after 6 pm since 1936. Doesn't that make you curious? A little?

*we move to a shot of Eli on the ground on her knees. She is in her pajamas and breathing heavy, a tear running down her face, shaking. The camera moves slowly up to her, as if sneaking. A scream comes, shaking and loud and blowing the hair away from the back of her neck, and she falls to the carpet, curling up*

Eli: *chuckles* No.

Title card: 7 IS THE NUMBER

[sincerely-sofie]

Honestly you meantioning them makes me want to see- do you have any canon designs for any of Twig's exes?

(Referencing this post)

Two of Twig’s exes have been seen here— they’re both dittos, and the only exes Twig dumped herself instead of being dumped by them. The meinfoo-ditto was uncomfortably sycophantic towards Twig and the maractus-ditto was honestly just a jerk in general who liked to psychoanalyze people in really condescending ways. However, Twig says she has six exes in this comic. While I don’t have unique canonical designs for any of them yet, I have a handful of notes on Twig’s other four exes!

Blake the Meowstic

Kind, but also extremely lukewarm. Wasn’t really enthusiastic about their relationship and just went with the flow, which wasn’t a good match for Twig.

Knows how to yodel, pick locks, and breakdance, amongst many other assorted skills. Gets bored frequently and learns the basics of a new hobby whenever this happens.

Was incredibly uncomfortable hearing about Twig’s past and felt out of his depth with uncertainty on how to respond to it. Ultimately, he broke up with her because he was so unsettled by her backstory.

Ends up in a loving relationship soon after he broke up with Twig— he’s with a very peppy Drilbur who doesn’t mind taking charge and getting low-energy responses, which he really appreciates.

Clay the Scrafty

A farm hand who enjoys gardening. Taught Twig a lot of wildflower’s regional names when she expressed a love for them and also described what areas they’re considered weeds in.

He gave Twig the wrong address to send letters to when he moved out of Verdant Village later on in their relationship. This was an accident. Twig thinks he ghosted her after she sent a letter explaining her backstory, but he thinks she just never wrote to him because she lost interest. Some poor Machoke out there got a letter from a complete stranger explaining her trauma to what she assumed was a loved one and had to awkwardly write back “I think you have the wrong house number.”

Moved on from Twig and became a well-known local comedian loved for his physical comedy acts.

Litany the (Mega) Ampharos

Goes by a name he chose himself.

Very vain. Constantly talking about himself. Refuses to de-mega-evolve despite it clearly impacting his health to be constantly in that state because he feels it enhances his looks so much.

Twig liked his enthusiasm for literature and intensified her efforts to improve at reading so she’d be able to bring up books she read personally for them to discuss. This ultimately soured her motivation to read much at all after their break up.

Was surprisingly self-aware and mature about how he dumped Twig when she shared her story with him— he said that he was startled by how much she was willing to open up to him when he barely opened up to himself, that she deserved someone with more sensitivity to their emotions than he had so that she’d get the sympathy she deserved, and then wished her well before telling her he didn’t want to see her anymore.

After he broke up with Twig, he was really rattled and started attending counseling sessions. He’s now a lot more sensitive to his emotions and has started weaning himself off his mega stone to focus on improving his health. He’s still single and doesn’t want to date again until he can totally uproot his fear of being seen as ugly.

Picket the Charmander

Twig got along great with him, and he matched her energy very well. They were two peas in a pod.

He was secretly very insecure about being unevolved and in a relationship with Twig. Her being the physically stronger one between them made him feel inadequate. Twig kind of knew something was up, but he denied it whenever she asked.

He ended up using her backstory being “too much” as an excuse to break up with her when the true reason was because she was an evolutionary stage above him. That really stuck with Twig, and she gave up on dating after he dumped her. Thankfully, Ark wasn’t someone she had to go to a singles’ meet-and-greet to find.

[wthtorke]

Middle ground

The Collector (Asa Emory) X Gender neutral Reader x Arkin  Seen a month ago on my Patre0n

Warning for kidnapping!

Asa had Arkin.

His whole collection was gone, but he had Arkin.

Looking back at everything he did, he knew he’d need another place to hide Arkin. Arkin was kind of stupid. Asa knows how he’s got a soft spot for people despite being a survivor. He went back for that little girl, and she got away, but Asa got him; Then, after -escaping- he went back in for Elena, even if forced, but he still fought for her, the idiot.

And then he thought he could just- get Asa. Just like that. It backfired as soon as Asa got over his panic attack in that box.

He has Arkin all locked up again, and he's starting his collection somewhere else. Again.

After some searching and planning, he moves to a somewhat countryside house where he can keep Arkin and still reach the city in 10 - 15 minutes by car. It was just perfect. It wasn't exactly a farm, but a house with enough space around so Arkin’s screaming wouldn’t be heard and an old barn thing close to it.

This time, however, he decided to keep it simple.

He didn't have the hotel anymore, and every evidence against him that ever existed is burned now. Either burned or untraceable, he was safe.

But despite just entering his forties, Asa will get old someday. If he doesn’t get murdered before that, of course. Arkin alone was good entertainment, but-,

Just him and Arkin wouldn’t do.

They were complete opposites of each other. He was good entertainment. If Asa had to pick anyone apart from his long-lost Abby, it would be Arkin. But still, Arkin also got on his nerves more often than not. Asa’s patience was divine, but Arking sure tested it every single day. He got beaten, starved, beaten again, and then he’d behave for a couple of days. Only for him to start again when he felt better.

So it was only natural they needed someone in the middle.

It wasn’t a completely normal day, Arkin realized. Asa Emory, a.k.a The Collector, wasn’t bothering him as much in the last few days, but today was weird.

He came in, fed him, checked his chains, smiled at him, and left.

What the fuck was that.

He'd seen him smirk before, the smug shit, but a closed-lipped smile banged on Arkin’s head. The day goes by, and he comes back at night, or late at night he thinks, he can’t see the far-away neighbor's lamps lit up anymore, so it’s way past eleven when he returns. It has to be.

Arkin hears the locks click and is immediately up and alert. The door opens, but it takes him a second to come in. Arkin realizes why a second later.

His hands were full. Not just occupied, but he was carrying a person. A whole. Damn. Person.

Asa walked over towards him, but he doesn’t stop at his bay, rather than taking the one next to him, which Arkin failed to notice looked so tidy and -ready-. As he approached, Arkin was surprised to see that they looked fine. No blood, no gore, no nothing.

How could he be so stupid as not to notice he was getting someone else? Arkin slept on hay. He was kept in a stall like a fucking horse- If only a horse were this fucking scrawny-. And now he was getting someone else in there too?

Arkin stood on his tiptoes to see what he was doing on the other side, in time to see Asa setting the person down on the fresh-looking hay under the dingy, shitty lamplight.

Arkin thought up a stream of curses as he realized; Of course, he was starting again! Of course, the sick fuck has to go out and torment people! Look at this person, now locked up in here with him- with Asa-!

"Nhn.."

Arkin's breath hitches and the Collector stops, both of them looking at the person who was still somewhat in Asa's arms, almost like he was reluctantly letting them go. Arkin couldn’t believe what he was witnessing.

He can only hear his own heart and Asa's breathing ringing in his ears, desperately wanting that person to wake up and fight him but also for them to just stay down and not get hurt.

They stir. It’s a cold night. Their head bobs toward Asa's chest rather than away from him. Arkin wants to throw up when he sees Asa's shoulders slack a tiny amount at that. Almost unguarded. Almost.

Asa lifts his hand, and Arkin's chains rattle in dread. His hand hovers over the person's face, lowering so slowly it makes Arkin almost go insane, "Don't fucking hurt them, you fuck. What the fuck are you doing?"

His barking meets Asa’s indifference. Not even the usual shushing is there when Asa’s hand finally touches the person's skin, gently petting it, much to Arkin's dread. That was never a good sign.

After a moment, Asa sighs and lowers the person fully onto the hay. He piles it up under their head so they wouldn’t be uncomfortable.

"What the fuck..." Arkin muttered to himself before Asa chained the person's leg, just like his, and gave Arkin one stern glare before leaving and locking the barn up.

Arkin didn’t come down from the bars after he left, even long after the lamps turned off from outside. He stood on his toe tips, trying to make the person’s face in the scarce moonlight creeping through the barred shut windows.

As much as he hated looking after people, especially in a place like this, especially with Asa, he promised himself he wouldn't let him hurt them. He promised that this one- this one would also survive.

[sparkbeast20]

Ooooooo~ I love the many experiences of a Monster x Human pairing. It's a wonderful trope that opens up so many possibilities for romance, angst, fluff, etc. I love it so much. I could read it forever and never get tired of it. Urban fantasy, secret world, and likewise genres are absolutely fantastic. I understand your attraction to them. Also all of my chosen fictional favorites are some brand of monster (going to count angels under monster even though they seem to often be their own category). And, personally, I am fine with poly as long as I like everyone involved and I get to hold their hands. 👉👈 Farz just wan't that. I would glad hold Sano and Vincent's hands at the same time though. Or maybe that's more of my own personal monster harem? Either way, I'm winning!

Also, not sure if you played them or not, but you may like:

Cinderella Phenomenon (free - the premise is that all the men have some kind of fairy tale curse, so not exactly monsters.)

Seduce Me the Otome (free - most of the love interests are demons. There is a sequel and it is much better, but it is not free)

Cloud Meadow (not free - porn game filled to the brim with monsters and breeding mechanics since you are running a farm and lots of cute possible monster love interests. It's still in early access though)

A Date with Death (free - a fun, cute game in which you seduce the grim reaper over the course of a week)

Not saying you will like all of these, but maybe you will find one of them interesting. I know other games too, but... there are so many and some of them are not good. lol

🌸anon

You🤝Me: Monster x Human pairing in urban fantasy

Ooo~ I've stream A date with death, with friends in our server.

I love Casper, I find him neat. though not as strong I feel for Sano and Vincent.

I'm want to see more Monster men things that isn't just games, though I was to see what they look like. There something about Monster men that get me all heated up and flustered 😊

Hence me liking Obey me, WHB and PB's upcoming game Ark Academy:

You have a Dragon boy, A "Dog" God, A demon god, eldritch tall man, unicorn, zombie, part human? and a cat boy.

Here's to hoping for more news about this game T^T

[determinate-negation]

Zoological gardens stem from the same hope. They are laid out on the pattern of Noah's Ark, for since their inception the bourgeois class has been waiting for the flood. The use of zoos for entertainment and instruction seems a thin pretext. They are allegories of the specimen or the pair who defy the disaster that befalls the species qua species. This is why the over-richly stocked zoos of large European cities seem like forms of decadence: more than two elephants, two giraffes, one hippopotamus, are a bad sign. Nor can any good come of Hagenbeck’s layout, with trenches instead of cages, betraying the Ark by simulating the rescue that only Ararat can promise. They deny the animals' freedom only the more completely by keeping the boundaries invisible, the sight of which would inflame the longing for open spaces. They are to self-respecting zoos what botanical gardens are to palm courts. The more purely nature is preserved and transplanted by civilization, the more implacably it is dominated. We can now afford to encompass ever larger natural units, and leave them apparently intact within our grasp, whereas previously the selecting and taming of particular items bore witness to the difficulty we still had in coping with nature. The tiger endlessly pacing back and forth in his cage reflects back negatively, through his bewilderment, something of humanity, but not the one frolicking behind the pit too wide to leap. The anticipated beauty of Brehm’s Animal Life stems from its way of describing animals as they are seen through the bars of a zoological garden, even, and above all, when quoting reports by fanciful explorers on life in the wilds. The fact, however, that animals really suffer more in cages than in the open range, that Hagenbeck does in fact represent a step forward in humanity, reflects on the inescapability of imprisonment. It is a consequence of history. The zoological gardens in their authentic form are products of nineteenth-century colonial imperialism. They flourished since the opening-up of wild regions of Africa and Central Asia, which paid symbolic tribute in the shape of animals. The value of the tributes was measured by their exoticism, their inaccessibility. The development of technology has put an end to this and abolished the exotic. The farm-bred lion is as fully tamed as the horse long since subjected to birth-control. But the millennium has not dawned. Only in the irrationality of civilization itself, in the nooks and crannies of the cities, to which the walls, towers, and bastions of the zoos wedged among them are merely an addition, can nature be conserved. The rationalization of culture, in opening its doors to nature, thereby completely absorbs it, and eliminated with difference the principle of culture, the possibility of reconciliation.

Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia

[princesscatherinemiddleton]

The Duchess of Cambridge visited The Ark Open Farm to meet with the local community as part of her countrywide tour to launch ‘5 Big Questions on the Under 5s’ | February 12 2020

[kinetic-elaboration]

December 24: Miller/Bryan, Boyfriends

This is literally the least Christmas-y thing I could write on Christmas Eve but I just had the urge to write some angsty Miller/Bryan stuff instead of trying to do fluff. I'm just not in the fluff mood.

This is in the same universe as this scene, is extremely self-indulgent, and may or may not be good, but it was fun.

Canon-divergent, S3-era, ~760 words, some sexual content

Written in 22 minutes

*

When they were dating on the Ark, they would fantasize often about domesticity. They'd find quarters together as soon as they turned eighteen, either on Alpha or on Farm, or anywhere else that would take them; they'd sleep together in a bed big enough for two. They'd develop some sort of morning routine. Their clothes would get mixed up. They'd kiss at every threshold, before parting, upon meeting.

Miller was a damned romantic in those days too: trading stolen goods for extra ration points and extra ration points for private time in the mess and a dinner for two; memorizing love sonnets; handing Bryan sprigs of plants from the fields on Farm as if they were bouquets. Some of the gestures made Bryan laugh. But always with such fondness. And after Miller was arrested, they promised to stay faithful—Bryan promised to visit and promised to wait—and so everyone in the Sky Box said they were married. That was the word for couples who believed in a future like that. Miller never told anyone that he proposed for real, with a bit of junk metal fashioned into a ring, as earnest and as quiet and as serious as he'd ever been in his life, never told a single soul that Bryan said yes. Yes Miller would live and as soon as he got out, they'd be married in Miller's father's quarters and afterwards, never separated ever again.

Later, when Bellamy asks, he says he has a boyfriend. Fiancé seems too heavy somehow, like maybe Bellamy will read it as kids playing dress up, or only frown as he does at Sky Box slang he never got the hang of.

It's easier to live with himself, too, when he's got a boyfriend up there or out there or possibly dead, than to let himself go on spinning fantasies about the love of his life.

It's not domestic now and it's not sweet either, or soft, or easy, when they don't know what to say to each other, so every time they meet, they just fuck. Bryan hangs out with Farm mostly, without saying they're family in so many words. Miller’s got his dropship survivors. Thy almost never talk about that now. The scar on his shoulder aches when it's about to rain, and when he puts on the Guard jacket, it feels heavy on his shoulders.

Bryan's assigned quarters in some of the new outbuildings, where they've stuck the rest of the station because all the rooms in Alpha have already been divided up. But it's not hard to sneak over, hardly more of a challenge to sneak Bryan over to his. Bellamy practically lives at Gina's now. Their bed is a double, and it's easy to shove Bryan down on it.

They never get fully undressed and they lie to themselves and say it's because it takes too long, and they need something hot and hard and now, they miss each other so goddamn much. It doesn't hurt the way that sex always hurt in crowded spaces up on the Ark: banged elbow in the supply closet, ache in his back from trying to twist around too much in his single bed, and then he couldn't even catch his breath after, because soon his father would be home. He might say it hurts in a worse way now, like poking an old bruise. Old man, Bryan says, half-smiling, when his heart starts beating too fast and his lungs burn but he's thinking about Bellamy giving him a hand job in this same bed and then about how many people have fucked in it over the last 100 years, and how little it matters, sentimentality like that.

He can feel Bryan's palm pressed close against him, that moment of pressure before his fingers start scrambling for Miller's zip, and he thinks that if he's breathing in the air from Bryan's lungs right now, open mouth to open mouth and the darting slick press of tongues, maybe he's also hearing Bryan's heart in his ears. Maybe they are one person. Maybe that's the rhythm he can feel coming of its own accord into his hips, as Bryan straddles on top of him, and they move as if they were fucking, and everything else drowns out and is still.

They haven't mentioned the word marriage since their reunion at the settlement gates. Not even once. No words like boyfriends or domesticity or even home, but again and again he huffs you into Bryan's mouth: you and want and need. You, you, you.

[theredpharaoah]

The issue with trying to construct shows where no form of oppression exists, is that the people creating it come from oppressed societies and don’t adequately check themselves. Like Jaha becoming a villain made sense, but Pike not being able to see the Grounders were ppl just like him didn’t. When we’re introduced to Pike he’s characterized as compassionate and kinda father-figure like. And even people like Miller, Jackson, Indra, and Gaia - moreso used as tools for other characters’ development as opposed to their own. Wells is literally the “black guy always dies first” trope. And even Lincoln’s character has some uncomfortable stuff going on. It’s not purposeful or consciously done - it’s designed so it doesn’t have to be. We don’t have a main character who’s black, of color, or indigenous that has actual development and is a major part of the plot. Monty didn’t really develop at all - neither did Gaia. Indra didn’t really develop, so much as she considered Skaikru family and opened herself up to them. And the death of cultures was so sad - why did all the stations on the Ark settle on English? They had nothing but time - they should’ve learned every language they could. The erasure of all the religions - it would’ve been cool to see how Grounder clans incorporated Becca and the Nightbloods into their religions. Maybe they saw Becca and the Commanders as Maitreya, Kalki, Jesus, etc. You’ve got to remember that’s it’s only been 100 years since the bombs went off. Which happened in like 2030(lol, how bleak). There’s no way all of that just disappears. The culture of the militant Ark is one thing, but the Grounder cultures should’ve retained a lot more. Also, no hijabis, no other languages(Latin and trig doesn’t count), etc. The Commander’s Regalia clearly has Indian influences, but that’s about it. There’s a lot of “eastern” influences in Polis and Grounder culture but nothing concrete. If they’d done the prequel, the second commander being Indian- and so they introduced those parts of the Commander’s Regalia - would’ve been so cool. But I also thought it was dumb that Calliope wasn’t the second commander. Jason essentially tried to recreate the mid season 2 Clarke/Lexa dynamic with Becca and Calliope. As a way to legitimize not giving Clarke the flame, but all it did was make me think that both Calliope and Clarke should’ve gotten the flame. They were clearly being implied as heirs to their respective mentors. Honestly, Lexa should’ve taken Clarke as her second. That could’ve been a really easy way to incorporate her and Skaikru into Grounder culture. Like the usual things people do in alliances were just ignored here. Lexa should’ve commanded a person from each of the 12 clans to come to Polis and take a second - maybe even have several do it. If she didn’t want to weaken Clarke’s position by having her serve Lexa - Luna was an option. Octavia’s training was over. Roan could’ve trained Bellamy(We DESERVED bi Bellamy) or Monty, Miller, Harper, Raven, Murphy, or Jasper(WE DESERVED Monsper but I’m thinking Monty and Roan could’ve been cute too). Like Raven and Murphy having to enter the Order of the Flame under Titus? Having Abby and Jackson create a “school”/safe zone of Mt. Weather where they trained Grounder healers to be doctors. That too. They didn’t leverage their medical/technological superiority NEARLY enough. Like Sinclair and Raven could’ve showed them how to turn the heaters in Polis on or something. No political marriages either. I feel like Jason got so into the sci-fi, he kinda forgot what I felt like really pulled a lot of people into the 100 - that Lord of The Flies, Animal Farm appeal with a sci-fi twist. I loved the politics and strategy of the 100 in a post-apocalyptic sci-fi setting. He didn’t balance it well and he veered way too far into Sci-fi. And also, a lot of the characterization and depth we got in the first 2 seasons was lost. You really need to see Characters doing meaningless things that don’t always push the plot - some filler is good!

[nitrosodiumofficialuses]

Spitballing About Open-World Resource Collection Mechanics

Yeah, TWL is finished, but that doesn't mean I can't use this account for rambling about other game-related stuff. The FPS account is for Overdeath, this is just anything game-y.

At some point I want to make an open world survival crafting type game. Now, MandaloreGaming has called the mixing of these genres "Cursed Runes", due to the fact that they start off greenlit on Steam Early Access, before never delivering on their original concept. Being an aspiring game dev wracked by hubris and naivety, I want to make one! So far, it's going to be like Hydroneer (more realistic crafting and resource extraction plus basic mechanical stuff) with the survival mechanics of Minecraft. The main thing that separates my game (the working title is AG) from Hydroneer is two things: how the game starts and how it ends. Because Hydroneer uses fancy voxel terrain, everything has to start off as dirt, which you then panhandle away until you have minerals and gems. It's not like Minecraft or other games where you tunnel into the ground to find materials, you've gotta refine the dirt if you want to get anything. For AG, I want there to be a bit more than that, perhaps finding pockets of different soil types (podzols, loamy, chalk etc.) which have different chances of having ores. Secondly, Hydroneer level progression. In AG, my plan is for you to be the only human on the continent, shaping it to your whims. In Hydroneer though, your job is a miner and that plays into the economy. The gameplay loop is "panhandle for loot, sell loot, buy machines to panhandle even more efficiently, sell even more loot", rinse repeat until you've bought every plot of land. I don't find that too engaging; I did when I was younger, in fact I plugged many hours into the various Farming Simulator games. But I prefer a drive for exploration and actual progression towards something new, not just being able to afford the new gizmo at the local store.

Next is a continuation of the resource collection problem. I want the world interactivity of Minecraft, but that's not really feasible. Minecraft runs on its own engine that can properly render all those blocks at once, using chunks and render distances and other tricks. Unreal Engine will see each block as its own actor, resulting in a spray of molten metal and plastic that was once my CPU erupting out of the side of my laptop, while a torrent of dead pixels consumes my thirty-seconds-per-frame gaming experience. So, we could do what Ark does, and have boulders, trees, shrubbery etc. destructible for materials. Or the Subnautica thing, where outcrops will randomly spawn on surfaces, keeping a random type of mineral inside. What I could do is a happy compromise of "harvesting nodes" spawning in a pre-made map, which can then be mined. This means mining can only be done in specific locations, which is more realistic than finding ores anywhere.

Imagine, you collect a sizeable amount of clay from a riverbank. You return to your camp, fashioning a kiln and a crucible. Next, you go to to the swamp downstream, looking for withered grass on reddish soil. You dig through the peat to harvest nodules of bog iron, fueling your kiln with some sticks you collected and smelting the bog iron down in your crucible. After several in-game hours, it's molten, so you pour it into a blade mould also made out of clay. Now, you have an iron sword. The idea is for your character to go through natural stages of civilization and primitive technology like this. Eh, it's just an idea.

[vulgarmaw]

I call this campaign idea:

Uncivilized Disobedience

Party starts at level one.

The capital city of Althurious, in the kingdom of Leicester is on lockdown due to insurgents. The party, having never met before, finds themselves at a riot where the commoners are storming the jails in an attempt to get a woman named Jocelyn released.

She is a Joan of Ark style of public hero. She has been defending the farm lands in the kingdom from goblin and bandit raids. No one knows if the goblins and bandits are working together, as they have never been seen working together, but their attacks seem coordinated.

The party arrived in the city in order to join a militia that was being created to help quell these attacks as a last ditch effort by the ruling class to keep the people from revolting. Jocelyn openly opposed the creation of the militia unbeknownst to the hero's. She says that she and her band of friends (read mercenaries) have the situation under control.

The commoners are not happy with her arrest and seek to free her. The newly formed militia is called to stop the riots using any means necessary. Shortly after it arrives all hell breaks loose.

The commoners attack the guards defending the jail. Some of them seem to be far better trained than a commoner should be. Others are not so fortunate and get cut down relentlessly.

An explosion (no dc save) rocks the jailhouse from within, knocking the party unconscious. They awake in cells surrounded by guards(12). The guards are covered head to toe with no skin showing and refuse to answer questions.

In the cell near them lies an unconscious Jocelyn or at least a woman who looks remarkably like her posters. She seems to have been severely beaten, but is still alive and breathing. She doesn't wake up the entire time they wait.

Hours pass, the guard changes to only having two. The lights are dimmed as the wicks burn low. And soon those two guards are fast asleep in the corner having failed to play a game of dice. Suddenly Jocelyn arises with her wounds looking healed.

She speaks the phrase "For the king. May his divine right to rule never be challenged and his throne last forever."

The door to the party's cell opens having been unlocked.

"I do not know the phrase to open my own, please escape from here and tell my friends where I am being held. There is an evil corruption in this kingdom and they will need me if they are to save the people."

If the party attempts to free her she will tell them that any cell not unlocked with its specific password will trigger an alarm and they will all be doomed. The only reason she could free them is because a guard was left here alone and she commanded the password from him and commanded him to forget that he told her. She tells them where to find her friends and how to escape without being seen.

When they finally leave the prison they find out they're deep under the castle and they cannot enter from where they left. The doorway is solid stone and can only be passed through from the inside as a way for the king to escape if the castle is ever sieged.

You can make it up from here, but basically they have fun trying to escape, find their weapons, and make it to her friends after a few sessions. From there they start off causing chaos in the city and disrupting law enforcement in order to give her friends a chance to succeed at doing things that will help them free her.

I have other ideas, but I generally don't go past this point in designing campaigns until the players have decided how they want to play it out.

[dimorphodon-defect]

She didn’t have much to her designation to move, when the time came.

Her small handful of Polaroids from Carly, Nau’s gifted drawing of Offshore, and all of her felted figures had fit inside the wooden Fenn Farms crate that Red Alert side-eyed when she walked by with it, and her flashcards had been easy enough to balance on top of that. It was a meager collection of possessions that left Dragonsbane feeling just a touch more self-conscious than usual as she walked down the hallway with Wheeljack, her entire post-Deception life held carefully in her servos.

“…and the lab is right down the hallway,” The engineer was saying. Dragonsbane’s optics flashed in a blink as she pulled herself out of her thoughts. “Now, I know the Dinobots have got a bit of a, uh…reputation…but they’re all real swell mechs, once you get to know them.” He promised. “They’ve already cleared out a space for you in the cave - one that’s a lot bigger than the storage closet you had before. There’s nothing to be worried about!”

“Are you worried?” Dragonsbane asked. Wheeljack hesitated, his head panels flashing soundlessly or a moment or two as he searched for the right words.

“No.” Wheeljack said at length. “The Dinobots can be…a lot, but they’re not a bad lot. They’re just misunderstood.” Hound came jogging down the hall on his way to the main entrance, and Dragonsbane tucked her wings in a little tighter to let him pass. “Besides, Prime made a good argument when he spoke to me.

“Bots who were built to work on a team do a whole lot better if they’re kept with a team, and you’ve really only been in the lab or your quarters since you got here.” He looked at Dragonsbane. “That kind of isolation isn’t good for your processor.” The femme’s wings sagged at the observation, though her expression remained stubbornly neutral. “And the Dinobots are historically picky about the mechs they interact with, so the fact that they’re the ones who asked for you to move in speaks volumes already about what they think of you.”

“What, did I make a good impression?” Dragonsbane scoffed. “I picked a fight with one of them!” Completely unintentionally, mind you. How was she supposed to know that Slag had been passing by her door when she’d thrown her empty wool crate over her shoulder in exasperation?

“That’ll do it.” Wheeljack nodded, and finally stopped in front of a giant set of sliding doors that had once led to some sort of hanger, before the Ark had crashed. Here, the mech turned to Dragonsbane, and put a servo on her shoulder. “Remember, I’m just around the corner if you need anything. You just let me know.” He told her.

“I will.” Dragonsbane nodded, quietly wondering how soon she’d need to take him up on his offer. Wheeljack gave her shoulder one last reassuring pat before reaching over and tapping at the keypad installed beside the hanger doors. The heavy doors unlocked with a muffled ‘clunk’, and slowly began to hiss open.

“They here!” A towering figure dropped down from somewhere above to land with a thunderous crash in front of the doors before they had even opened halfway, and Dragonsbane barely resisted the urge to jump back. As it was, her wings snapped open defensively, and just barely avoided smacking Wheeljack.

“Hey there, Swoop!” The engineer greeted the excitable Dinobot while Dragonsbane stared up the mech twice her size with wide optics. Was she just destined to be the smallest one in every group?! “Is everybody ready?”

“Yes!” The Pteronadon practically pirouetted aside as Wheeljack crossed the threshold. Dragonsbane hesitantly folded her wings and followed after him. “Him, Snarl and him, Grimlock still have rocks to move, but they almost done.” He looked down at the crate in Dragonsbane’s hands. “That all you got?”

“It’s all I have.” Dragonsbane flared her wings back out in a move she didn’t really think about. Swoop just stared at her, smile unchanging.

“You, Dragon, will have to start collecting something.” He laughed. “That not going to fill up the shelves!”

“Why don’t I give you guys a little time to get to know each other?” Wheeljack suggested. Dragonsbane shot him a panicked look. “I’ll stop by with Optimus Prime in an hour or two, and we’ll go over the last few details of the move.” He looked at Dragonsbane, and lowered his voice reassuringly. “I’ll keep my comm open the whole time, okay? You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, sure…” Dragonsbane watched Wheeljack step back out of the room with a growing sense of dread, and tensed when Swoop’s shadow fell over her.

“Come with me.” The mech held out one hand and started herding her deeper into the room. “The others are excited to meet you!”

“Ooooh, I don’t think ‘excited’ is the right word.” Dragonsbane shifted her grip on her belongings, careful not to snap the planks of the crate.

Here went nothing.

Further into the room (really, it was more like a warehouse, at this size), the other four Dinobots were gathered near a pile of rocky debris. Dragonsbane became acutely aware that she barely reached the hips of the shortest of them as Swoop ushered her closer, and pulled her wings tightly to her back as four sets of sharp optics zeroed in on her. There was a tense silence, for a few moments, and then it was broken by Grimlock snorting out a laugh.

“This the one who kicked your aft?” He elbowed Slag, ignoring the glare he got in return. Slag slapped the offending limb away viciously, and Dragonsbane flinched.

“I mean, technically, I’m the one who got my aft kicked.” She argued, audial fins flattening under the scrutiny. “I, uh. I very much lost that fight.”

“That what us Dinobots like.” Grimlock nodded, as if he’d just dispensed some sage advice. “You pick fight and lose, but still survive. That means you tough.”

“Her talk smart.” Sludge grumbled. Dragonsbane wasn’t sure if that was a compliment.

“Here, let me, Swoop, take things!” The femme reacted too late to save her belongings as they were snatched out of her servos, and tried to follow as Swoop walked off into the freshly-excavated room to drop them on the berth that had been dragged into the space. The ground shook as the Dinobots followed them like a herd of sheep.

“Me, Snarl, told you room too big.” Snarl scoffed as Dragonsbane climbed up onto the berth to check on the crate. Good. The flashcards hadn’t cracked.

“See? She too tiny for it.”

“It better than closet she in before.” Slag retorted. “She like Swoop - she need space for wings.”

“Me, Grimlock, not un-digging room.” Grimlock stated firmly. “Room stay big, so I say!” Slag and Snarl immediately began to argue louder, and Swoop made a show of rolling his optics. What a first impression this was making on their new member.

Dragonsbane put back the few flashcards that had fallen out of the open box, and sat back on her heels. This felt…familiar…and not in a bad way, either.

…what was that Wheeljack had said about bots built to work as a team?

———

Two hours later, Wheeljack stood in front of the Dinobot’s hangar entrance once more, with Optimus Prime at his side. There was a concerning amount of noise coming from the other side, but he couldn’t hear any cries of distress, at least. The engineer typed in the entrance code on the keypad, and managed to wait patiently until it had opened enough for his frame to fit through.

He still crossed the threshold before the doors were fully open.

“I’m back! How is every one getting-….along.” Wheeljack stopped after only a few steps, fins flashing in silence as he lost the rest of his sentence. Optimus Prime followed him inside, and placed a hand on Wheeljack’s shoulder struts. “I believe we can safely assume that their introduction went smoothly.” The Prime said with just the barest hint of a chuckle in his voice. Wheeljack made a noise that wasn’t quite affirmation. He should probably have prepared himself for something like this.

“Do it again! I almost had it!” Dragonsbane insisted. Sludge adjusted his servo position quickly before crouching down and throwing the femme upwards with a good amount of strength. Dragonsbane stretched out at the peak of the toss, and latched her own servos around the handle of a sword that had been stuck up in the ceiling for the past four months. “I got it!”

The gathered Dinobots let out a collective roar of success, and Dragonsbane hauled herself up on the trapped sword and let herself drop - once, twice! When the blade came free with a shnk and a small shower of rocky debris, the Dinobots scattered back, and the femme managed to land on her peds right in the middle of them. She straightened up, covered in rock dust, and leaned the sword as big as she was over her shoulder strut.

“Now, uh…whose was this again?” Dragonsbane was the first to notice their two mech audience, and quickly un-shouldered the blade. “Oh, Wheeljack! Optimus Prime, sir!”

“Dragonsbane,” Optimus Prime greeted back. “I’m glad to see you’re all getting along.”

“Of course we get along.” Grimlock scoffed as he leaned down to grab the sword. “She Dinobot. Us Dinobots get along. Uh…usually.” He shrugged. If he noticed the way Dragonsbane looked up at him, optics wide in something between surprise and awe, he ignored it.

“Of course, how silly of me.” Optimus Prime chose not to argue. They seemed to have achieved the preferred outcome - arguing would do nothing but set them back. “Now, there’s just a few quick things we need to finalize…”

[thechillsquid]

This is hilarious, anyways let’s get writing; warnings for some reference of animal death. Not too bad of anything, a rat gets munched, but yeah!

—

“I… don’t think that’s a chicken, James.” A long stare from the other farm hand shut Talisman right up. They chewed on their lip, looking from James to the odd hatchling to the bloodied eggshell around it back to James. The older was giving them a long, tired glare. Talisman could only shrug sheepishly, saying weaker, “I mean… it ain’t.”

James pinched his brow with a growl, “Bloody hell, Tal. Ya daft or es somethin’ else eating ya brain, eh? It’s a bloody dragon, damn broodin parasite.”

“Wha— ain’t no way that’s things a dragon, it got feathers?”

“…I know what a fuckin’ dragon looks like ya bastard.”

Talisman sighed, placing their hands on their hips, “Well what the fuck should we do about it, huh?”

“What ya do with em, fuckin’ get ridda’ the damned thing.”

“Get… rid of it?” The farmhand stared at the man, heart dropping.

“What, gotta problem with that? I’m not takin’ care of it or somethin. This ain’t like no stray cat, kid.”

They shuffled on their feet, running a hand through their short curls, “I mean… it’s just a wee bitty thing! What, ya saying we just like…” They made a gesture of a slash across the throat.

“Ayup.” James crouched down to stare at the hatchling, who’d been looking between them both with newly opened eyes, mouth agape in obliviousness. “They ain’t taste too different from a fatty bird.”

Talisman couldn’t help but make a soft sound, “B-but its… kinda cute and the lil’ one shouldn’t be much a hassle…”

A hard stare before with a sharp huff, James picked up the hatchling and shoved it towards the other. When James only got a wide eyed stare, he barked out sharply, “Here then, ye nit! Es your bloody problem now, ain’t it?”

“W-What—“

The hatchling made a questioning little ‘ark?’ as Talisman struggled to hold the thing properly as James dumped it into their grasp.

The two stared at each other as James stood, dusted off his hands, and said with faux cheer ‘have fun!’

“Well… uh. I wonder if ya would eat mice…?” Talisman muttered to the feathery little thing as they slowly stood up.

— 1 year later —

“Get. ‘Er. Off. Me.” James glared under his straw hat at Talisman as glistening black talons adjusted across his shoulders. The slinky creature, which despite being the size of a wolf hound weighed no less than a particular fat vulture, clittered daintly as its tail coiled along the man’s upper arm. “Now.”

The other just couldn’t help but shove one of their fists into their mouth, the other hand grasping desperately at a knee as they held back laughter.

The shiny scaled dragon (having lost most of its down months ago) made a warbling clack in her throat like a strange instrument, wings flapping out and slapping her perch’s face and arms before settling.

James’ hat drifted to the ground and the dragon’s head slunk down to watch with large dark eyes. The massive rat caught in those hooked jaws getting a bit too personal in its proximity to James’ face.

Talisman cracked, smiling a bit wider, “I mean… I’d say ya should be praising her since that thing coulda jumped off onto ya!”

James grimaced as he tried to lean away some, snapping, “I BE MORE APPRECIATIVE IF ES DEAD CARCASS AINT BEING DANGLED IN MY BLOODY FACE!”

The dragon decided right then, with a pleasant purr in her chest, to drop said dead carcass right onto the farmhand’s lap. The man went deathly still before slowly looking up at Talisman with a threat of violence in that otherwise mortified gaze.

The two stared one another down before with an air of ‘my work here is done!’ the dragon hopped off the older’s shoulders in search of more pest to catch. Talisman bolted before James could even try to get them into a headlock.

Dragons do not build nests. Instead, they sneak their eggs into other unsuspecting species and let them raise their young instead. And this “chicken” that just hatched on your family��s farm sure doesn’t look like any chicken you’ve ever seen.