#animal devourer and plant consumer the eating siblings

[conniewoof]

Is it art dump time? I think it’s art dump time.

Also if you like the art please reblog it? /nf

I wanna reach more people :D

[sea-owl]

Ohhhh if you’re taking writing prompts how about enemy chefs to lovers Polin?

Before I get into this, let me clarify that I am of the belief that if they don't try to kill each other at least once, then it's not enemies to lovers. Now that that's out of the way, this gives me an idea. Also partly inspired by @thekatebridgerton post of the siblings being embodiments of the 7 (8) deadly sins.

Penelope grew up in a family where every generation, one child would be born to be eaten by the gluttonoust demon whose domain bordered her family's ancestral lands. Well technically they were raised to be the one who cooks for the demon but when it always ends with them being devoured instead it doesn't really matter does it?

Typically, this role should have been taken on by the second born, Penelope's older sister Philippa, but instead, Penelope's mother had convinced her father to make Penelope the sacrifice instead.

"You're smarter than your sisters," Portia had told her the night it was announced. "Clever. If any of you have a chance of killing the demon it is you Penelope."

From that point on, Penelope learned how to make different dishes from things like mince pies, biscuits, and her personal favorite eclairs. She knows how to prep all different kinds of meat from farm raised animals to game to fish. She knows which fruits are ripe and which still need time. Portia made sure Penelope knew how to use a knife and which plants mixed well for flavor and which would end a life if mixed together.

"Remember, Gluttony will always want to consume more," Portia would remind her daughter. "There is no such thing as never enough."

Finally, on the day of her 18th birthday, the day came where Penelope would present her first meal to the demon. She decided to go with a fish covered in a basil and lemon cream sauce. Some roasted potatoes and vegetables. A loaf of dark bread, wine, and mixed berry eclairs for dessert.

All that was left was to bring it to the forest and pray he eats it instead of her. Carefully, she packed everything into a basket. She had to be at there by sunrise after all.

"Pen wait!" Penelope's youngest sister, Felicity, called out. The eleven year old ran down the stairs with a package in her arms.

"Litty!" Penelope exclaimed. "What are you doing awake? The sun has yet to rise."

"I wanted to give you your birthday present," Felicity said, holding up the package.

Penelope set her stuff down and carefully opened the gift. Inside was a beautiful set of kitchen knives. Every single one sharp and ready for use. "Oh Litty."

Felicity hugged her sister. "The blacksmith promised me they are extra sharp. So maybe, maybe you can come home soon."

Penelope hugged her sister tighter. Even if she could get rid of the demon it wasn't guaranteed she live too.

"I'll try," Penelope promised.

That seemed to be good enough for the eleven year old as she gave Penelope one last hug before waving her off.

In the forest, where Penelope was to meet her new master sat a table directly over the border between her family's lands and the demons. It is where her relatives in the past have presented their first and often times last meal to the demon of Gluttony.

It is where Penelope sets up the meal as the first rays of light spill across the land behind her. It is also where Penelope sees her new master for the first time.

Gluttony honestly looks like any other man Penelope has seen, a rather handsome one, but still a man. Penelope would put him at around 6 feet with dark chestnut hair and green eyes. His beauty, though, screamed dangerous to Penelope. Like a poisonous snake whose pretty colors serve as a warning to the venom they carry.

Now that snake sat across from Penelope at the table.

"Ah are you my new mortal?" Gluttony asked.

Penelope bowed her head. "Penelope Featherington, my lord."

The demon picked up the fork Penelope placed and dug in. He let out a moan tasting the food. "Delicious, and thank you for not poisoning it like some of your other relatives."

Well that's one plan Penelope shouldn't rely on.

Gluttony bit into the eclair. "Are you not eating?"

Penelope shook her head. This had to be some sort of test, right? Gluttony doesn't share. "No, my lord, I know sharing food isn't something you do."

Gluttony's eyes lit up. "I don't share huh?"

Penelope found herself on her back, staring up into green eyes. A piece of the eclair was being pressed into her lips. The same piece that Gluttony held in his own lips.

What is he doing? Gluttony always wants more so what is he getting more of out of this?!

Penelope found herself frozen on the grass. She tries to command her hand to reach for anything that can help her. She can't breathe. She opens her mouth to take a deep breath, but that only entices Gluttony to push the eclair further in.

Penelope felt her hand brush against her basket. Somehow, she reaches inside and grabs the handle of one of Felicity's gifts. Her grip firmly secured Penelope plunges the knife into the demon's side.

Gluttony, still on top of Penelope looks down at his side.

Oh shit. Well, she's definitely getting eaten.

"Lord Gluttony I-"

Penelope is cut off by the demon's chuckle.

"Gluttony is my sister," the demon said, looking back down at Penelope. Without even flinching he pulled out the knife. "I'm Wrath."

Penelope's eyes widen. "But the food-"

The demon Wrath only smirked. "I'm a growing boy, and you mortals have such delicious food."

Colin grinned down at the little mortal underneath him. Oh, she had no idea of the courting ritual she just initiated by stabbing him. He's going to have fun playing with her.

[tribbetherium]

The Middle Glaciocene: 110 million years post-establishment

Do Fear The Ripper: The Mesoterran Badlands

The Mesoterran Badlands are a region of poor soils and sparse vegetation located in the middle of the continent, where North Ecatoria and East Nodera had collided: producing a bewildering maze of mesas, canyons and ravines, and being dominated by a dry, semidesert landscape. Here few plants can grow-- and the ones that do are unpalatable ones such as thorny, bramble-like cloverferns, tumbleweed-like grasses, amd towering, tree-like cactus analogs known as clackti, forming small scattered patches of twisted, thorny forest. But where there is a niche to be exploited, something will fill it: and in these harsh, inhospitable landscape, scorched by Alpha in the daytime, blown by chilly winds during the night, and most hospitable when warmed by the faint heat of Beta during its sanguine-hued reign in the sky, would prove to be the cradle of some of the strangest, and most unsettling, of all life to evolve on HP-02017.

Large herbivores here are ones that can tackle the tough vegetation of the badlands: the pygmy forest buffant (Elephasinus eeyorii) grazes on the abrasive grasses, stems and thorns of the clackti forests, where it takes shelter in during the sweltering heat of day. Other species here become nocturnal to escape the blazing sunshine, such as the indigo snootlesnout (Longinasoingo indigo), a browsing walkaby which feeds on the thorny leaves and stems of the clackti which it can tolerate due to tough skin on its trunk, mouth and throat, allowing it to browse on these clacktus-trees with no injury to itself. Banded strapflanks (Lineopodotherium bandia) are common here too: crepuscular in nature, these fleet-footed omnivores feed on plants, invertebrates, small animals and carrion, and are generally not very choosy over whatever food they can find.

But the badlands of Mesoterra are the haunts of what is easily the most horrific of predators yet to evolve in the history of the planet: the maniacal ripperoo (Rapaciopodotherium nitrus). The largest member of the carnivorous podothere lineage that also includes the loupgaroos, the ripperoo fills the twilight badlands with a chorus of high-pitched, reverberating cackles as they emerge at dawn, dusk and Beta-twilight to hunt. Lacking the deep-piercing saber of the daggarats to quickly bleed out its prey, or the powerful windpipe-crushing jaw strength of the carnohams, the ripperoo instead resorts to a particularly grisly way of killing its victims-- it simply doesn't.

With all sixteen of its teeth shaped as forward-angled cutting blades, and the claws on its second finger and inner toe adapted into built-in meat hooks, the ripperoo is an ambush hunter whose goal is not a quick, efficient kill, but merely to secure itself onto struggling prey, which it then proceeds to devour while still alive. Smaller prey, such as strapflanks, are promptly torn apart and dismembered, with the toe claws used to pin down the victim while the hand claws and slicing teeth do most of the dirty work, pulling apart limbs, heads and innards without even bothering to kill the prey beforehand, while larger victims, such as buffants, are mobbed by multiple ripperoos at one time: often dealing it massive damage, but not outright killing it. In some cases, large prey that have survived the initial attack after the ripperoos have eaten their fill continue to be trailed by the predatory podotheres like a walking larder, and, weakened by their injuries, are easily attacked later once the ripperoos become hungry again.

Their cooperation in targeting bigger prey, however, does not imply any sort of pack-bonding mentality or affection toward their own kind, merely intersecting interests that the ripperoos are smart enough to realize will benefit them to cooperate for the moment. In fact, ripperoos are highly cannibalistic, with dominant males killing and frequently eating smaller, immature males that pose a threat of rivalry into their territory, and breeding females actively tracking down and killing the young of other, nearby breeding females to reduce competition of their own young. Even play-fights quickly turn vicious among littermates, which already sport well-developed teeth at the age of one month old--something the mother actually encourages, putting weaker cubs into good use as hunting practice for their stronger siblings.

But perhaps most chilling of all is the fact that the ripperoo is no dim-witted killer driven by instinct alone: it is a highly-intelligent creature, capable of complex methods of pursuing its quarry, chasing them into natural traps like cliffs or brambles, or, in some populations, even learning and actively digging small ditches for fast-running prey such as smaller podotheres to trip and break their leg, leaving them helpless as the ripperoos consume them at their leisure. Indeed, with their aggressive nature, fondness of toying with small prey like a cat does to captured mice, and increased excited behaviors in response to the pained cries of its prey, the ripperoo may actually be deriving pleasure at the act of killing for the thrill of it, in a manner not unlike orcas using live seals as playthings.

And as the ripperoos' descendants are favored by natural selection to be ever smarter, and ever more aggressive-- particularly on the Arcuterran mainland in the next millions of years where predator competition is high-- they will keep this vicious streak along with them as a tool for survival as they, over time, attain milestones unlike anything prior: culminating, in due time, with a species that will affect the biosphere to a degree like no single species had ever done.

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[scudserved]

Meat (prologue)

1770 words, warnings for: animal death, graphic murder, blood, gore, and cannibalism. also hand holding

MEAT

When I was eight years old, the collected families of Brewer street had a cookout where they bought a live grown pig, unbeknownst to me later to be killed and consumed at said cookout.

At the time it was a novelty, me and the rest of the neighborhood kids playing rowdy and noisily around the pig, who was kept in a small fenced-in area in the Maron's backyard. There it ate like a king, all the hay and hand-fed apples a beast could desire, all the pets and occasional slipped-in dog treat it accepted like a champion hero coming home from a battle hard-fought. We cherished the pig, us kids, who had commonly agreed to name it Brewster after the street we lived on and a long-forgotten tv show the adults were familiar with.

No one really was blind to the fate of the creature that become our temporary pet that hot summer weekend, and if they were, like me, deep in their heart of hearts they knew something was to good to be true. I will never forget standing on the middle rung of the fence in the early summer's eve, fireflies parading around in somber farewell as my uncle Joe raised the .32 caliber rifle and shot the animal straight between it's pleasantly dull eyes.

My childhood was shattered that day, I think, not because I didn't know it was coming, but that deep down I did and refused to face the facts of the matter. To me the pig would be there forever, a local legend, a neighborhood pet, feasting to it's heart's content and growing fat on the crops of the fall. But it was not to be. They roasted him on a spit upside down like some kind of ghoulish saturday morning cartoon, and when it came time to partake of our fallen friend no one would refuse the delicious call of the pork. None save for me, who closed my eyes and turned my head away in solemn remembrance of my tragic companion. They say that childhood dreams die young, and mine died right there on the picnic table in the Johnson's front yard as every ounce of meat was devoured, digested, or packed away in freezers for another time when one had a craving for a good old ham.

It was the deceit of the matter which concerned by, not that they had kept the pig's true purpose obfuscated to my young mind, but to the event of keeping a thing alive and happy just to look it in the eye and murder it. That this was the fate of all pig kind did not occur to me much, it was just another mysterious facet of life how hot dogs and breakfast sausage came to be on the grocery store shelves and on my plate. I am sorry to say that I did not swear of all pork or meat from then on, though my cause would have been righteous if it had occurred to me to do so. At the time I must have known I was part of the problem, but figuring, like most rationed humans who don't have enough pity or kindness in their black hearts to forgo flavor over humanity, I kept on eating animal product when it was on offer, never considering the consequences or the fate of the animals I consumed.

It was not until years after the fact, when I saw one human being partake of another in the manner one would a particularly juicy hamburger that I thought otherwise of my habits. 

This was a grisly sight, but I could admit to feeling more than disgust at that moment. A sense of wonderment, curiosity, like a child experiencing something for the first time. Unlike the blissful unawareness exhibited by the pig moments before it's untimely demise, this person saw it coming, and the horror turned to confusion and betrayal was fascinating to witness. I must admit this did not prevent my stomach contents extrapolating themselves onto the pavement in front of me. The nightmare unfolding in front of me was not exactly like the horror movies I had been accustomed to, not false and dramatic punctuated with play-acted screams and gushing geysers of bodily fluid. Instead, the affair was rather subdued, with a dark pool of red accumulating under the fleshy stomach of the back street cop out the slice across his prodigious belly. He gasped wetly and made a number of sounds in my direction that could have been 'help' or 'stop' but the gash in his throat prevented him from formulating words with much sense attached to them. With a vile gurgle he slumped sideways and the perpetrator of the violence descended on him like a murder of crows, biting flesh straight from his meaty neck and tearing the chunks off with abnormally pointed teeth.

This would not be an easy task for someone with teeth like mine, the flat teeth known mainly for chewing plant matter. But humans are omnivores of course, and with an ingenious adaptation like his he was well suited to ripping meat straight from the source. He seemed quite content with his lot, and I made to sprint as fast in the other direction as I possibly could, before he turned to me with wet gleaming eyes and I realized that he was crying.

Him, the attacker, the violent instigator in this situation, with his mouth around the still-pumping blood fountain welling up from his victim's treacea, not at all the tragic or forlorn character he was made out to be. To me, this should have been more reason to run, he was surely truly unhinged, in fact I would have found it more acceptable it he reacted to his kill with no remorse at all, the way my uncle had shot the pig without flinching and the others had eaten it without fanfare. Instead, he was weeping openly as he ate, and he held out his hand to me to gesture in my direction, to call me towards the scene of the crime. Of course I had and have my reservations, and I fully admit I was not in any fit state of mind at the time, mostly likely in shock. But I kneeled beside him anyway and took his proffered hand, holding on as he continued his meal, looking at his misery-filled eyes but not at his mouth below, where the dark deeds he did lay waste to his peaked face.

We sat like that for what must have been minutes, me holding his hand for reasons I couldn't begin to understand, until lights lit up the alley, that old familiar red and blue. There were shouts as I dragged him, dazed, to his feet, the blood dribbling down his front a dead giveaway as to what he had done, the knife in his other hand slick with blood. I was not much better, the red gleaming liquid had pooled around my shoes and gotten on my shirt and hands from being so near to him, touching him, and I knew that for the first time in my young life I was seriously in trouble.

I grabbed his shoulders and shook him madly, trying to get him out of the haze he seemed trapped in. His acts had put him in a kind of limbo, a dissociation only he force could wake him from. He looked back at me finally as if seeing me for the first time, and his blue eyes grew wide, and he grabbed my hand again and took off running, pulling me along like a dog on a leash. I was just along for the ride, unhappy to be there, but now I was in it too, and I had no choice but to force my short legs to be keep up with his longer stride. The night air and the exertion burned at my lungs as we fled, and I truly felt as though I would fall and die. I thought he might keep running anyhow, pulling my arm from my socket comically with supernatural strength as he went. Instead, I found the last bit of energy I had left lingered in me, the flight or fight instinct clicked firmly to flight, and even the baby fat and adult pounds I had packed on after high school could not slow me down from keeping pace with him. We ran into the night, until city lights faded away and we were alone and in an empty field somewhere, crickets singing merrily around us and droning into silence as the late night crept in. There was fog all about, something I am grateful for, for surely it must have hid us from prying us from the roads beyond. There was a forest ahead, and the derelict part of town I knew lay beyond, and that was our destination for the time being. 

This time it was my turn to pull him along, knowing the way to my sister's apartment even with my eyes blindfolded and my sense turned all topsy turvy. He seemed glad to let me lead, never letting go of my hand, as if to be separated was to die. I let him, though his hand was warm and sticky and clammy, and the sweat dripping off both of us was a none too pleasant experience. I swallowed down all my reservations and kept up the miserable silence, until we came to the backstreets of my new neighbor, ratty and run down like my soul currently felt.

"Hey." I said softly, noticing out the corner of my eye he was still crying, just a little. I squeezed my fingers tight around his, having no clue what I was doing or why I was doing it. 

"It's gonna be ok." I said, lying through my teeth. In truth, there was no way it would ever be okay, but sometimes as an adult you tell people things that they need to hear.

"My sister will take care of us." I said, thinking this part was true, though what she saw when she saw us doused in blood I didn't quite know. I only knew that since childhood our principal loyalty had been to each other, and no matter what happened and who or what we brought home, be it wayward kitten or smelly boyfriend, that we would support each other fully. That was our bond as siblings. I pulled him in the direction of home as he nodded, sniffling, and went with into the warm and the light of the streetlamps ahead.

[lucyhart-viscomm]

Yokai bio’s

For the bestiary pages, I wanted each different Yokai to have a bio of themselves, as well as sometimes a look at how they’d adapt to modern life.

Baku Baku are most well known as being dream eating Yokai, feeding on the dreams of humans and acting as guardian spirits. Those woken up by nightmares will invoke the Baku’s name, calling it to devour their bad dreams and let them return to a peaceful slumber. Resembling a Tapir, Baku are chimerical creatures, one description referring to them as having: ‘the body of a bear, the head of an elephant, the eyes of a rhinoceros, the tail of an ox, and the legs of a tiger’.

Baku are considered holy beasts that bring good luck and deter evil spirits, their names being used on protective charms and talismans. People would traditionally embroider the kanji for ‘Baku’ on their pillows to deter bad dreams and sickness away. A Baku’s natural habitat is within forests, but they have been known to enter villages at night to consume dreams. With modernisation they have become far more elusive as they adapt to brighter nights.

Yuki-Onna The Yuki-Onna is one of the most famous frigid Yokai, known to appear as women of otherworldly beauty on cold nights. They feed on life energy, finding people lost in blizzards and taking their souls, leaving nothing but a lump of ice. Their skin is as white and cold as snow, a single touch being enough to chill a person to the bone.

Yuki-Onna appear wherever there is snow, hunting any human foolish enough to trespass into her territory. Though said to feed on life energy, some stories speak of Yuki-Onna falling in love with their intended prey, sometimes even marrying them. Like most Yokai, there are some good and some bad, the softer stories of love between the mortal and spiritual world hinting at a kinder side to the Yuki-Onna’s icy reputation. With her icy habitat changing rapidly with modern life, Yuki-Onna have been drawn closer to cities in search of life energy. Taking advantage of their popularity as Yokai and their otherworldly beauty, they blend in with society easily, taking to social media and drinking up the love of their fans to sustain themselves.

Raiju

Raiju are the embodiment of lightning in animal form, often appearing as tanuki, dogs, weasels, wolves, and even cats. Like most Yokai, some stories describe them more fanciful, with multiple tails and four back legs, or even chimera-like with a mix of different creatures. When thunder claps, Raiju ride lightning down to earth, causing chaos and discord wherever it lands.

Once seen as divine beings serving the thunder god, Raijin, the exploration into their lofty homes by 20th century technology has stripped away a lot of the mystery surrounding these beings. Once highly feared due to wooden houses being highly susceptible to fire, changing times have led Raiju closer to energy plants, nesting atop pylons and drinking the electricity flowing through. It hasn’t been unheard of that Raiju are the causes of massive power cuts when packs come to rest on earth during storms.

Akaname

Known as the ‘filth licker’, Akaname dwell in exceptionally dirty places like bath houses and toilets. About the size of a child, they scurry around, hunched over, lapping up grime and filth from the walls and floors with their trademark long sticky tongue. Quite shy and reclusive, they run and hide when a human approaches, but don’t let their docile nature get in the way of banishing them from your house. Akaname spread disease and are known to make the inhabitants of the house they’re haunting sick.

Akaname have happily settled in cities, thriving on the dirt and trash humans leave behind. They particularly like settling near universities, the squalor of student houses being ideal places for them to settle. The best way to send an Akaname packing is to clean up your house, they despise well kept homes and will go elsewhere once the grime disappears.

Sutoku Tenno

Though not one of the Big Three Yokai of Japan, Sutoku Tenno is a human transformed into a vengeful spirit, or Onryo. Tricked out of his position as emperor and his supporters scattered, Sutoku lost all power over the imperial throne. When the new emperor died without an heir, Sutoku saw his chance to reclaim his standing by putting his own son on the throne. However, the imperial court wanted one of the old emperor’s siblings to take the throne, this dispute descending into a miniature civil war known as the Hōgen Rebellion.

The outcome was decided in a single battle, Sutoku’s forces duly defeated. His allies were punished, and Sutoku was banished from Kyoto to the Sanuki Province. There he became a monk, copying holy manuscripts to send back to Kyoto, yet the imperial court feared his wrath and accepted none of his works. To add insult to injury, on Sutoku’s passing, the emperor refused to have anyone go into mourning, calling him a criminal and holding no funeral for him.

After his death, strange unnatural events started occurring. A terrible storm rolling in when he was due to be cremated, leaving the ground soaked in blood, and following the cremation a dark cloud descended on Kyoto. Disaster upon disaster struck the capital, such as, the emperor’s successor dying suddenly, and even igniting the Genpei war that shattered the imperial court.

Koma Inu

Koma Inu are fierce, noble creatures that always come in pairs, guarding holy areas and vary in sizes from a small dog to a lion, hence their name ‘lion dogs’ in English. They keep watch on gateways, preventing the wicked from entering in usually a male-female pair. The female watches over the people within while the male protects the building or area itself. Stone Koma Inu are nearly always found at the entrances of Shinto shrines, the left hand lion dog often being referred to as ‘Shishi’, but the pair are called Koma Inu when together.

With shrines often falling into disrepair, Koma Inu travel worldwide in search of new charges to protect. Sometimes acting guardians to places and people that just take their fancy, they continue their roles as divine protectors even in an age of technology and knowledge. Adopting a less supernatural form, some Koma Inu live as ordinary dogs, protecting the people and homes they have chosen to live peacefully with.