#not rarer but like. more uncommon

[lockbot]

You know how puppies have folded ears but over time they straighten up like points? Thats my headcanon for Bee now. Young Bee has the pup ears and older Bee has the horns.

Yeah that'd be really cute. I also saw someones comment about Bee being the one with the dog ears and Cliffjumper having the horns, which I'm also down for. They just gotta stop killing Cliffjumper first LOL

[boyybites]

what if i made offbrand tieflings that were just giant hell cows huh, what then?

[phagodyke]

its actually nuts how missing a single vaccination has shaped my entire fucking life. like not only would I not be deaf if I had gotten it on time but I probs wouldn't have adhd either 🫣

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 1

tw: explicit content, 5k+ words, reader/sukuna. female!reader, beta!reader, alpha!sukuna, true form!sukuna. oral (male/female receiving), PIV, size difference, sukuna has a knot, sukuna is lowkey a masochist, some anal (not the reader's ass).

Prompt: Betas serving as royal sex concubines without fear of pregnancy.

It wasn’t as bad as one might expect, being Ryomen Sukuna’s concubine.

Oh, he was terrifying, certainly. Death wasn’t uncommon in the household, though rarer than some might think.

Sukuna traveled often, sampling both the lands and the people within them, returning to the estate only when it pleased him to do so.

Everyone in the estate knew their master’s expectations and the consequences for not meeting them. Only the rare missteps resulted in punishments, though they were indeed brutal.

On some occasion, the lord’s aide would bring half-dead curses - or corpses of enemy sorcerers - to a separate building on the estate for some strange and nefarious purpose.

It made no difference to you. The estate was clean and well-maintained, the servants attentive, and the stocks never ran low.

You were living the perfect life.

No one denied you anything. You could summon merchants, make the odd trip into town, and entertain yourself however you wished, provided you fulfilled your responsibilities as a concubine.

You were a nobody before you came to the estate.

You’re still a nobody, but everyone here is a nobody in Ryomen Sukuna’s eyes.

Your lifespans are determined by how useful you were to him at any given moment.

And he had an unexpected use for a common whore like you.

It was probably more surprising that you were a beta, and not an omega – infinitely more desirable for an alpha like the lord, one would assume.

You’d never presumed to pry before, but it’s easy to speculate, after having known him long enough.

He’s a powerful man, utterly indifferent to societal standards or norms. His desire and satisfaction were above all other things, just as he was above everyone weaker than him. And everyone was weaker than him.

It was hard to imagine him at the mercy of an omega’s potent pheromones, longing for the comfort of his partner’s nest, pining for the love of his mate, or driven madly to lust by the scent of a rut.

Or perhaps he indulged plenty, but so much fervor could only end in bloodlust on his part. Any omega summoned to his chambers to serve his pleasure never returned.

You do fare luckier in that respect. He may not have been gentle lover, but as long as you’d served him he’d left you with no more than bruises and bite marks.

And he could hurt you, destroy you, utterly disfigure you in permanent and terrifying ways… with just a casual glancing blow.

Sukuna is present on this night, though, and it appears he’s summoned you.

His aide, Uruame, is far closer to him than any of his concubines, and by now you know the sound of their footsteps slowing as they near your door.

They smile at you as you open the door for them, bowing before your eyes meet theirs.

Uruame is not fond of any of their lord’s concubines, as a rule. Being a beta themselves, it’s unlikely they understand Sukuna’s needs as an alpha any better than you do.

But what they can understand is that you respect their lord immensely. A sorcerer yourself, you know enough to appreciate the scale of his power, and you had never made any secret of your admiration.

Unlike many other concubines brought in, you had very little arrogance to show for your beauty and bedroom skills. Uruame probably does appreciate that.

You’re a beta from a brothel, so you have no delusions of self-importance, but Sukuna, and by extension Uruame, couldn’t care less where you came from.

You know their purpose as soon as they arrive; they don’t need to engage in any inane conversation or instructions.

As soon as Sukuna had returned, you’d readied and dressed yourself in case he were to summon you. It happens more often than not whenever he’s back at the estate.

You suspect you’re the only one he summons during his rut.

His omega concubines are… single-use. Your fellow betas are few in number, and he’s no more forgiving with his concubines than he is his other servants.

You follow Uraume to his room. You can’t tell if he’s in a rut or not, but your suspicion is confirmed as Uruame gives a short nod, then strides off.

Sukuna doesn’t like being seen during his rut. Many have learned the hard way.

“Well? What are you waiting for, an invitation?” His voice is as gruff as ever. Low, heady, a delicious groan that sends shivers down your form.

He didn’t ask to be answered, of course. The only appropriate response to Sukuna’s question is action.

Quickly you slide the door open and shut it behind yourself as you fall into a low bow. You don’t meet his eyes without permission.

“Get up.” Your cue to sit up, to not bother with any further formalities. His rut must be well underway. “Come over already.”

You don’t waste any more time. He sounds impatient, and he probably is, but any less deference could see your head separated from your body. It’s especially important not to touch him first, to let him touch you.

Sukuna loathes being touched without permission.

It’s not something you have to worry about, though. As soon as you’re within reach, one of his hands bears down onto your shoulder; to him, it’s as good as an explicit instruction.

You never subject Sukuna to the indignity of having to voice his desires.

Perhaps that’s why he likes you so – there’s a flash of something pure alpha, an intense delight in his eyes as you kneel and attend to him in prefect obedience and submission.

Falling to your knees at his feet, wasting not even a second, you work to free his painful erection from the confines of his clothes.

Practiced hands accomplish it easily, and you’re rewarded with a large hand that strokes through your hair, brushing it back out of your face and holding it there.

His erection springs forward, as impatient as he is. His knot is already swollen up.

It’s red and flushed, pink to match his hair, heavy and thick like all the rest of his limbs.

Even an omega would blanch at taking such a monster. You are well-trained.

It’s enough just to lick at it, some cursory strokes to wet the shaft with his precum, to touch your lips to his heated flesh. Searing, really.

Wide, open-mouthed kisses dragged along him until his cock is coated well enough with spit and his own pre.

Without any further hesitation you open your mouth wide and take him all the way down to the knot, lips thinning where his cock swells and throbs.

The head is already lodged in your throat, and you swallow as you take it down, pressing your lips in. A moan tells you he’s already growing sensitive.

It wouldn’t feel very good for him to knot in your throat – he’s never bothered with it before – but there’s always a flash of satisfaction in his eyes.

Sukuna doesn’t want to knot your throat, but it pleases him to think that he could. That you are willing and ready to take it, if he wished.

“Good little beta." The mouth on his abdomen seems to grin at you, wide and dripping saliva.

A fire ignites in your belly at the praise, face heating up, your own mouth opening wide.

No matter what you are, Sukuna is an alpha through and through, and the desire to please surges as his hand presses you forward.

As a concubine or a common harlot, you’d always been good at your job.

Sorcery had delivered you from the streets and into Sukuna’s estate, and diligence, determination, had kept you alive throughout it all.

Others died around you. Weak. You would do whatever it took to survive, however ugly it may be.

Taking cock down your throat isn’t even close to the most degrading thing you’ve done, and at least there’s only one man now for you to serve.

He’s not even a bad lay. Either a suppressed instinct to please his mate as an alpha or some fortuitous chemistry has always ensured he brings you to release whenever you fuck.

The unmarred half of his face is undeniably handsome, and after all you’d seen, you’re utterly indifferent to the deformity. It’s just there. A part of him like any other – the other arms, the other mouth.

You’re sure you yourself have flaws in his eyes, but if he truly did not want you, you’d never have been allowed in his chambers to begin with. Sukuna is a man with absolutely no interest in pretenses. He takes what he wants, when he wants it, always.

Sometimes, you think that you and Sukuna aren’t all that different after all.

An alpha who was malformed, cast out by society, recognized only in disgust or fear.

And you, sold by a father eager to make any money he could off a pretty beta daughter.

You were unfit to be an alpha’s bride, but perfectly suited to be every alpha’s whore.

If you wanted happiness, you had to seize it, even if it meant choking the life out of someone else.

Both of you were worth only as much as you could curse others. Sukuna’s worth is greater than yours, but in his shadow everyone is equally worthless, and in his gaze – at least for this moment – you are worthy of him.

The fingers in your hair tighten; a hiss, “Take it!” and you suckle diligently as you bob backwards, diving forward straight away to take him to the root again.

Inhuman though he may be, his cock is much the same as any other alpha’s, if a bit larger.

Hot, smooth skin, veins that pulse and bulge inside your mouth. A salty taste you’d grown accustomed to, a stretch in your mouth and your jaw that you ameliorated by focusing on hollowing your cheeks, dragging your tongue along it.

Betas can’t purr, not like omegas or alphas can, but you approximate it with a hum, a gentle sigh through your nose and fluttering, lowered lashes.

A low exhalation. Controlled. “There she is…” The hand in your hair goes to stroke possessively over your cheek. “My little beta. All for me.”

His eyes dilate in lust – you always meet his gaze while you do this, for as long as you’re able, you know he likes this – and you know before you feel the touch of his hand on your jaw to begin drawing back.

His hand barely ghosts you before you move, leaving trails of saliva strung between your lips and his shining cock while you gaze up at him.

Another theatric he enjoys. His tongue darts out from his lips, grasping and stroking himself, hand coated in a sweet-smelling oil you recognize.

His other arms reach to grasp you by the shoulder, pulling you up to stand and burying your face in his neck wordlessly.

They wrap around you, pulling you into him as he steps back to sit on the bed where you follow.

It surprises you every time, just how much your body comes alive at his touch.

Heart racing as if it can jump through your skin and into the hands that trace your throat, your collarbone, down your chest, dragging the slip of a robe you’d worn down with it.

Sukuna likes undressing you, alpha that he is.

Like you’re a sacred treasure to be unveiled only by his hands. You always wear something easy to take off, and nothing else.

His touch is your leave to respond in kind; he’s fully bared, now, all tattooed skin and corded muscle.

A warrior’s form, conveying power and strength in every divot and valley. Your heart races as you lay your hands on him.

Maybe it’s the thrill of it.

Sukuna is utterly untouchable. The greatest sorcerers of your time had died failing to scratch the smooth, unbroken skin he offers to you so freely.

As a concubine, you don’t get much contact. Less still, since no one would dare lay a hand on a consort Sukuna summons so often to his side.

Normally that suited you just fine, but sometimes with him you feel like a dog straining on a leash.

Desperate for him to reach out, to feel him on you. Lust and adrenaline coursing through you the instant he makes contact.

Even as a beta, this close, it’s impossible not to smell him; he’s pulled you to his throat on instinct.

His scent glands are right there, and you don’t hesitate to lick at them, letting your breath ghost over the hot, spit-slicked skin. Dragging your teeth along the swollen flesh.

That’s one of the things he likes best. He knows you’re a beta. You have no fangs, you couldn’t mark him if you wanted to. Not with anything but curses.

But still, it is a pleasure. The salt on your tongue, the flesh that yields beneath your teeth, even without breaking, as the alpha’s aroma fills your senses.

Sukuna is spiced; harsh, in some ways, like cinnamon, but warm like a pleasant woodsmoke, like the heat of oil burning in a lamp. Just this side of decadent – opulent, almost, and still primal and raw.

It doesn’t affect you like you imagine it would an alpha or omega. But it’s nice. He smells nice.

You don’t hesitate to nip at his lips when he presses them to yours.

Perhaps one of the reasons Sukuna hates being touched without permission is because he also doesn’t care to be touched gently.

If he weren’t in rut, you would have dragged your teeth over his cock while it was in your mouth, but he’s not able to savor such services in his current state.

They’re red, so red, all his four eyes staring into you. Burning in want. In want of you.

“Fierce little thing.” You can taste his grin, you’re close enough. “See how fierce you’ll be when you’re full of me. My beta. Mine.”

“Yours,” You agree breathily, and lean back in to catch his mouth with your own.

His lips are one place you’re able to make him bleed, dragging the bottom lip beneath your teeth and pinching it, then darting your tongue in to taste.

Sukuna hums at the taste of metal in his mouth, sucks your tongue between his lips to press and purse and suckle on at his leisure. Brilliant red eyes half-lidded in lust.

Your hands get to work, one of them cupping his jaw and then his hair, brushing it back in a way that makes him preen now that he’s in rut and can’t suppress it.

Alphas love getting petted, and Sukuna loves the scrape of fingernails over his scalp, a tight tug against his hair; it all sends his knot pulsing against you.

“Here. Your mouth had a taste, let’s see how your cunt likes it.” His arms lift you up just enough to sit over his well-muscled legs.

Your thighs spread while his cock falls forward, between your thighs.

Sukuna holds you there, just far enough, letting it rub against you with little tugs to your hips. Desire sparking like flint where his length rubs against you. Fuck.

Oh, you want him. Ache for him. It pulls low in your core, to lean into him, to feel his arms holding you in place, to feel him all against you.

You wrap your arms around him in return, clawing at his shoulders as the mouth on his stomach tongues between your legs. It’s exquisite and agonizing all at once. Slick and dragging against you, heavy and broad.

He’s already purring at the taste of you. Hands clenching in desire over the roundness of your hip.

You want him. You want him.

You can have him, take him, touch, touch, touch. Dig your teeth into the firm muscle against his neck to feel his purr grow louder under your teeth.

Your curse technique flickers at your fingertips, dancing over the open canvas of his back.

Inhaling sharply, you think you hear him swear, and then, “Yes.” He laughs breathily, “More. Put more into it. That can’t be all you’ve got.”

It isn’t. The sound of him is everywhere now, vibrations that shake you all the way to your core.

The mouth on his belly still laps at your folds. It drools on your folds like you’re a meal he cannot wait to savor.

Sukuna is already running hot. It’s too easy when he’s like this, all heated, blood pumping heavy through every part of him.

Just beneath the surface you feel it; searing, boiling, heat jumping up to meet your touch. Like liquid fire underneath his skin, you’d heard it described. Exhilarating, Sukuna had called it.

A talent half-learned by accident in the steamy, lurid, filthy recesses of the brothel you’d worked at. A dark place filled with malice and jealousy, reeking of curses in every corner. One day you’d awoken with a strength that sung in your veins, screamed to be used.

You had learned to vanquish shadows with a flick of your wrist, the creatures bursting from the inside.

Once, on a lark, you’d tried it on a client who struggled to maintain his hardness. It had been remarkably effective, pooling blood in his cock, and with a little work you were able to reproduce it in other ways.

It had all been success from there. Climbing the ranks, scoring pleasure into the flesh of those who paid you well enough.

Oh, it was painful, too, but what pleasure in life came without a little pain? If you wanted something, you had to be willing to sacrifice for it.

A founding principle of jujutsu. It’s no wonder Sukuna so delights in battle, either against sorcerers or in his own bed; when you heat his blood in his veins it sends his knot pulsing, throbbing, twitching in excitement as pre drips out.

With him holding you so close you can feel his purring throughout your whole body.

A rare pleasure, a prize you win with vicious effort, cursed energy surging in your hands as you rake your nails over the glorious, muscled expanse of his back.

“Open,” Sukuna commands.

It’s a tone that never fails that make you tremble in anticipation. Your cunt is already dripping with it.

The part of your legs widen, and you lean back to look down at where he’s settled against you.

He’s so large. Always so large. The knot swelling already.

You’re clenching already, quivering, like you’re the one in heat and not he in his rut.

God, you want him to fuck you already.

One massive hand reaches down, stroking over his cock, wet with your saliva, his precum, and the oil substitute for an omega’s slick.

It nudges at your cunt and you let out a short whimper that sends him snarling, thick fingers digging sweet bruises into your hips.

“Always so sweet for me,” His lips ghost over your temple as he stares down, “Delectable. Strong little thing, you can take it.”

The head of his cock slots against your entrance. Fuck, it’s hot, burning, searing, you’re so fucking ready, your cunt is weeping and you feel like keening for it, “Please. Alpha, please.”

You can almost see it in his eyes, red and feral with need. Omega, my omega, my mate – all the things you’ve heard from alphas before.

Clingy, possessive, biting at you, rutting into you like they can breed you. All the filthy things whose beds you’d warmed in the past.

They all pale in comparison to the King of Curses. Hot and throbbing and silken against your entrance, the deep grunt of effort that you feel when he lines himself up and drives himself in.

The very sensation knocks the wind out of you.

Sukuna slides in easily but it’s tight, so tight, always. You feel him feel it, too, all those muscles growing taut before you as he sinks into you.

Your arms tremble before they remember what to do; grasping carelessly at his shoulders, clawing for purchase as the whines claw their way up your throat. They’re shoved back down by the deep moan you make when he reaches the end of your passage.

“F-fuck,” it’s good, it’s so good, it hurts so good and there’s nothing you can do but sit there and take it. Just as he told you to.

It’s always a bit painful, but there’s a pleasure in it, too, the piercing delight of being so thoroughly fucked into. You swear you feel yourself dripping out where he enters you, and you moan again at the feeling of him dragging himself out.

A low noise, a chuckle; like every sound Sukuna makes, you feel it just as much as you hear it.

“Do it again.” He demands, and you would never make the alpha wait.

You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

He pushes into you again and your moans crack, because he slides through easier this time but it’s just so big, so fucking huge you feel your walls trying to flex, envelop him, desperate to find any give at all, but there’s just no give.

It’s like having solid steel lodged inside you, burning hot and smooth against your core.

“Good beta.” Sukuna effortlessly lifts you up by the hips, dragging you off his cock and savoring how you whine at its loss, “My good little beta. Squeezing me so tight.”

He drops you down, down, back onto him. Cock thrusting up into you, cleaving your cunt apart, hitting a spot that makes you wail. Sukuna laughs, and you can feel his cock twitching.

“Need my cock, do you, little beta?” The rut is at its height now, pulling him in, smearing possession all over his face, his evil grin. “Even if it breaks you apart?”

All you can do is nod while you pant. He pulls you up and down by the waist, fucking you on his cock like a tool for his pleasure –

And Sukuna has never failed to use a tool to its fullest extent. “Fuck, fuck – fuck, alpha, please – please, please – ”

His own laughter is broken up by heavy breaths. One of his huge hands grasps you by the scruff of your neck, and you try to go obediently limp but your whole body jerks with the unrestrained force of his fucking into you.

Tight and unforgiving, baring your throat for him to dive into. An alpha in the midst of his rut. His teeth graze over your neck, licking where scent glands would normally be.

“Please,” Your breath catches in your throat at Sukuna’s kiss, all teeth and feral smiles pressed into your skin.

He stays like that for a moment, knot pulsing desperately just outside of your cunt.

Grinding into you like he thinks he can fit it in – you both know it can’t, you simply don’t have the anatomical space of an omega. But it feels good.

So good. It rubs, hot and throbbing against your clit, and fuck if you don’t nearly cum from it right there, tightness in your core heavy and ready to burst.

“Sukuna,” You say his name in a broken moan.

Teeth in your jugular. Hot tongue over your throat.

Hands gripping your sides. Moving you up and down like a puppet.

Cock pressing and pressing into you, relentless. Pleasure lapping at your insides as his cock rocks into you, begging to be let in.

A thumb on your clit, rubbing circles. “Cum, beta. Cum for your alpha – hngh – cum now – ”

Pleasure bursts through you, as if brought to life by his words. White hot and overflowing, every part of your body floating on air.

It’s like you’re a feather in his hands. Airy lightness fills you and even the stretch between your legs feels pleasant, a welcome intrusion, cunt blissfully numb.

Sukuna fucks you through it all the while, breathless, determined, on the brink himself as he chases the friction of you squeezing the life out of him.

You twitch in his grasp, aftershocks trembling through. He holds you upright easily, letting your head fall forward while he drags you up and down, mindlessly brushing his burning knot against your entrance.

It’s several moments before you catch yourself; it makes no difference to Sukuna. Your climax brought him closer, but not there, not just yet.

It’s with the giddy sort of warmth your afterglow brings that you lazily grope the space next to the bed.

You find the vial of oil he’d used earlier, and easily unscrew the top and spread it across your fingers with a single hand.

Sukuna had stared a moment the first time he saw you do that. So you have a sorcerer’s dexterity after all, he’d said, and it was the compliment you’d treasured most to date.

This time, his eyes don’t leave your body. All four of them, red and fiery and burning into you. Your chest. Your face.

They linger where your bodies are joined, at the stretch of your cunt taking him, the hole that has no more to give him but squeezes him anyways.

You can tell by his ragged breaths he needs more stimulation, heavy in rut and knotted tight as he is. That’s fine. You’ve done this before.

Slicked fingers find his waist, and then lower, to his ass. He parts his knees further, as if for more leverage to thrust fruitlessly against you, and you take the opportunity to squeeze one well-muscled cheek with your dripping hand.

The sharp inhale – you’re sure he’d hate to hear it called a gasp – “Beta!” –  tells you you’re free to go ahead.

So you do, digging your fingertips into his ass, into a hole too well-oiled to not have been prepared beforehand.

A rumble swells, in his chest, his throat, pressing hard against you along with his cock, nudging his knot further against your entrance.

You tease along the rim and then drive into it. He hisses as it burns, knot throbbing against you, massive hands squeezing bruises and then caressing them as soon as they bloom.  

It’s delicious, the way it clenches at your fingertips, tight and furled up, but you slip in easily with his preparation and your oiled fingers.

Darting into the yielding warmth of his insides, a pleasure that has him seizing against you, all muscle and magnificent form trained on your touch.

Your cunt clenches at the thought, the power you have in this moment; it squeezes the cock spearing you and sends tremors through his form.

“Clever girl,” He rumbles as you drag along his insides, “Clever fingers,” another heavy thrust, fingers twitching, “More,” thrust, shudder, “More!”

With a heated urgency your fingers curl, feeling, pressing around in a way that has Sukuna panting, teething at your shoulder, kneading hands against your hips while you search for just the right spot.

His knot presses insistently against your entrance, where there’s no space for you to receive it, but it catches on your oversensitive clit enough to make you gasp and whine.

Sukuna grins, mouth wide open, drooling like the feral, satisfied monster he was.

“Beta…” he hums, and it feels like he’s saying your name, as close to a loving coo as a creature like him can make.

And then, then, you find it, as you have so many times before. A high, keening noise Sukuna would be otherwise unwilling to part with, drawn out from him in the height of his rut.

You press into a bundle of flesh through his insides. A spot that sends him rutting wildly against you, unconcerned with his knot or anything besides fucking and feeling more of that pressure into him.

It’s almost all you can do to keep it coming, your other arm flailing desperately to reach around him for any kind of purchase while he thrusts your mind away.

Pleasure finds you again but this is liquid flames instead of white hot.

It pours out from you, spilling everywhere, the feeling of his release spurting inside you.

Full, full, fuller, so full you swear you’re bursting, it feels so fucking good. Flowing out over his cock, against your cunt, where his hurried thrusts squeezes it into a lewd, sopping met against your clit.

This one brings tears to your eyes. The sound of it, wet and squelching, utterly lewd, like you can feel the tremors of pleasure that have you milking him for cum that cannot impregnate you.

His hands are all that ground you, points on your body where his touch had ceased to be painful, to be anything but a feeling of him against you, the warm and powerful alpha who’d taken you to his bed, monster or not.

Sukuna groans and pants his heart out, still fucking into you while your eyes are glassy and all movement has left your body.

Your clever little hand fallen to the side as its purpose was fulfilled, his knot finally unraveling into the delicious joy of breeding you.

Ahh. He can admit the look in his eyes when he looks at you is fondness, to some degree. His perfect little beta. Wicked fingers and the smartest mouth he’d ever seen. Always so good for him.

He lays himself down alongside you on the bed, still buried deep in you, cum leaking slowly away.

The mess never bothered him, not in the torrid, heated moments of bodies entwined. He’d bathe with you later.

So warm. Always warm and welcoming him, your cunt is the most exquisite hole he’s ever known, but it’s the rest of you that makes it worth his time. Every time.

There’s something about it that sends a frenzy through him.

A hurried urge, like a desire to run or jump or lash out, but instead it makes him want to wrap his entire self around you and laugh in wicked delight.

It feels like fire on the battlefield, blood on his tongue, power coursing through every pore, seas ready to part at his command. It feels like strength, but he’s not even holding you very tightly.

He takes a deep breath, face pressed to your hair; beta. A faint, pure, neutral scent, so unmistakable in its cause. It elicits no particular reaction, stirs no great curiosity or lust.

But you do. It’s easy, natural, to wrap all four arms around you and squeeze. Your perfect figure yielding in his grasp, compressing beneath him, legs folding as he swings one over yours.

A purr rumbles deep in his chest as the sensation envelops him.

Touching, holding, entwined. You, completely full of him, made docile with his cum and his knot, surrendering to his embrace. All his. All for him.

Your boneless, weak figure in his arms, the little sigh of bliss you let out… it’s a feeling that’s only come to him in the midst of battle, curses coursing, glorious, in every direction.

A thrill of triumph that enervates, lightens every one of his limbs and sets him with a feeling of utter satisfaction.

Sukuna is purring in earnest now, and he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed by it.

Why suppress his instincts for the beta that so perfectly warms his bed? Why restrain himself in any way, when you’re wholly incapable of binding him, of bearing pups or marking him, and serve him with such delectable vigor?

An arm, so much smaller than his, slowly slips itself over his waist. You’re barely conscious, pretty face all flushed from your climax, unable to even open your eyes.

But your head drifts towards his chest even while asleep, where the vibrations are the strongest. Tucked under his neck, nestled in him and his scent.

An alpha’s purr is usually a sign of contentment, but it’s supposed to be soothing to omegas. As far as he knows, it doesn’t have any particular effect on betas.

Sukuna supposes it’s probably just you.

It’s so easy to reduce you to want, to unrestrained lust, pure and devoted entirely to him. Why should he need an omega when he has this at his beck and call?

You can’t be bred, of course – that was the whole point of using a beta. But sometimes he does wonder.

What you would look like if you were with child. Breasts heavy with milk, the mild scent of a beta humming with the life nurtured within.

You’re strong. You’d produce fine offspring. Your curse technique is interesting in its own right – igniting a person’s own cursed energy from beneath their skin. Not remarkable in effectiveness, but wholly unique in its operation.

Would it stop his ruts, to see you pregnant for some time? You’re the only one he spends them with, so seeing you pregnant might just delay them, without the influence of an omega’s hormones. 

Would he grow more aggressive as you neared delivery? Would his instincts command him to slay your spawn so he could fill you with his own?

Uruame is a beta, and has the necessary parts. He could breed you without all the tiresome mechanics of a bond between alpha and omega; place his two favorite subjects together and watch as his loyal subject bred his most treasured concubine for him. 

Watching you take in the seed of someone other than him… but Uruame is a beta, and belongs to him as much as you do. If he scented them as well, perhaps? They always had very little scent of their own.

Heat stirs within him at the thought. It’s too early to tell if it’s anger at the idea or arousal, especially in the state he’s in.

You make a little noise, and all four eyes shoot down to look over your form, all sweat and heat and dripping cum.

He shifts to move some of his weight off of you, sliding onto his back and settling your head on his chest so you can drift to sleep to the sound of his purring.

After all, his rut is just beginning. Sukuna can spare you some rest…

For an hour or so.

[aphrogeneia]

Altars in Ancient Greece

A disclaimer before we get into it: this is a brief explanation of how altars functioned in ancient Greece. I am not telling you how you should set up your own personal altar(s). Rather, I hope this can serve as foundational knowledge for you to consider while figuring out what works best for you and your practice.

Pentelic marble altar from the ancient agora of Athens. Dedicated by the Athenian Boule to Aphrodite and the Graces. c. 194-193 BCE.

The purpose of the altar is to receive offerings for the deity. It is the sacred place where worshipers pour their libations of wine, deposit their gifts of fruit, honey, or cakes, and burn a portion of the sacrificial animal. Offerings in ancient Greece were a key component of religious life; it is how mortals express their honor and build χάρις (kharis, favor). The altar is a highly important point of contact with the divine, and is an essential physical element for any cult to be established.

In fact, we can determine whether or not a deity was worshiped in ancient Greece based on if there were any altars dedicated to them. A god or daimon with no altars was very likely only part of the mythological or literary tradition and did not receive any sacrifices or worship. Altars were generally dedicated to one god or a group of related deities. In rarer cases, they may be dedicated to the whole pantheon (example: the Altar of the Twelve Gods in the Athenian Agora).

An altar for a heavenly (ouranic) god would be a raised surface or pedestal, and it would be oriented towards the East. The typical Greek altar consisted of bricks which were white-washed with lime, or it was carved from stone such as marble or limestone. They could be plain, or they could be decorated with volutes and narrative scenes. They often had the name of the deity inscribed into them. Altars could also come in a variety of shapes, the only real requirement being that the surface on top was flat so it could hold the offerings.

More prominent cult sanctuaries may feature a large, elevated altar with steps leading up to it. There were also natural rock altars, or in very rustic sanctuaries, a collection of stones was grouped to form an altar. If one was worshiping a khthonic god who dwells on or within the earth, they would provide sacrifices at a low-lying altar such as an eschara, or a simple open pit called a bothros.

Indoor altars were very uncommon. At sanctuaries, the altar would be outside of the gods temple, often in front of the entrance. Though a sanctuary could contain several altars and sacrificial sites. Households would have had one in their courtyard for private worship. Other altars were located outside of public buildings or in community gathering places like an agora.

The reason for being outdoors was so that the gods who reside in the sky could observe the sacrifices being made and enjoy the rising smoke of the incense. Meanwhile, a libation poured directly onto the bare earth would seep down below to the khthonic gods. Every altar was ceremonially sanctified when its first sacrifice was performed; from then on, it was considered part of the property of the deity.

Below are my sources. I'll likely make a part two of this post where I go over some ideas for how we can construct our modern altars. Thank you for reading!

Ancient Greek Religion, Jon D. Mikalson

Greek Religion, Walter Burkert

Ancient Greek Cults, Jennifer Larson

[pnfc]

my perry folder has like 300 screencaps which is actually much too small. anyway i like shots where hes in more uncommon poses, rarer angles. uh here are some images of perry the platypus from the tv programme phineas ferb

[desi2go]

Goodbye, Jeongin

pairings: Jeongin x reader

warnings: angst, cheating

Everyone knew that Jeongin wasn't fond of skinship, well, usually. From time to time, he liked to cuddle but that was rare. You knew he loved you eitherway. He is someone who shows his love through acts of service.

He always brought you coffee when you were busy with studying, putting the empty dishes away so that you wouldn't need to do that anymore even when he was exhausted from practice. He would massage your fingers after you have finished writing an essay or bring you flowers every once and then, filling your apartment with the fresh, sweet smell.

On busy nights where his mind doesn't seem to stop working, keeping him awake, he seeks your warm and soft body. Feeling you against him was comforting and relaxed him. It reminded you that you were always there for him, someone he could turn to no matter what even in the worst moments of his life.

At first you didn't notice anything. He wasn't fond of skinship after all which you accepted even if you loved to cuddle with him. But the occasions where he would let you pamper him, hugging him tightly, became even rarer if that was possible. You didn't thought much about it at first, whenever the stress was too much, he liked to have a moment for himself and you respected that.

Heck, you didn't even notice the change, it sneakily decreased. And he liked his space when he is stressed with a comeback. However, his weird behaviour didn't end after the comeback, no, it became progressively worse.

Sometimes, you wondered if he could be in the same room as you. Whenever you sat down on the couch, not even touching him since he was uncomfortable with that, he jumped up almost immeadiately, pretending to get something from another room. You often stared shocked at the place he sat just seconds ago.

But it hurt you to know that the person you loved so dearly avoided you and you just couldn't figure out why.

It was yet another night you spend alone at your shared apartment instead of being with Jeongin who had a day off. When he texted you that he would spend it with the boys, you firstly felt enraged. This was the first day in months that he would have time to be with you and he choose to spend it with the persons he saw every day 24/7. Then, you felt hurt. It hurt so damn much that he avoided you.

You tried to distract yourself with watching some movies while eating ice cream, when your front door opened and a tired Jeongin stepped into the hallway that was connected with your living room. Exhausted, you looked over your shoulder to see him undressing his jacket and dropping down on the other end of the couch so that you couldn't touch him. It just fueled your anger more that he didn't even greet you let alone asked you how your day was. He just looked at his phone, typing and probably texting some of the boys.

"How was your day?" you broke the silence.

He stayed silent for some time. "Good" he answered, not even daring to look up. You cleared your throat, blinking the tears away.

"Jeongin?" He gave no answer.

"Jeongin?" you tried to get his attention once more, this time emphazising it more. However, this time his gaze shot up, clearly annoyed.

"What?" he snarled, brows knitted together.

You were hurt that he spoke to you in that tone and the anger and humiliation took over.

"What? You really ask what? What is wrong with you?" you yelled, agitated and disappointed.

Just now, he looked up from the phone, wetting his lips. His eyes sparkled like they caught fire, a fire that seemed to burn everything down, including you. You two weren't a couple who fought regularly. It was very uncommon between you two since you hated to yell and often became very emotional. But from time to time, a fight would happen but they were rather small.

However, this one was fiery and intense. Nothing like any fight before. And you feared its outcome.

"What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you? Why do you need to cling to me like that? You're overbearing and an attention seeker!" he screamed, his grip on his phone was strong and you wouldn't be surprised if it broke.

"I'm seeking for attention? What is wrong with trying to spend some time with my boyfriend? I miss you, Jeongin.", you sighed enraged.

"You are always there. I can't go somewhere without you worrying and texting me all the time. It's annoying. Don't you have other friends to spend your stupid time with?"

"But I want to see my boyfriend, you if you forgot that." you yelled, voice breaking.

"You see me so much! I can't even practise alone without you showing up!"

"I thought you liked it" you justified loudly. Well, in the beginning, he loved it if you could watch him dance. That was what he told you but clearly that wasn't the case.

"Well, it would be nce if you weren't that clingy!" he yelled, throwing his phone on the couch before jumping up, wanting to escape the fight. But you wouldn't let him, not this time after what he had said. You would clarify this issue now, not when he decided to come back.

"Don't you dare run away now, Jeongin", you growled, wiping the first tears from your cheeks while blocking his way.

"See? I can't even go without your approval now." he snarled, combing through his hair while mumbling something you couldn't quite make out.

"What did you say?" you asked, voice shaking.

"I said that Suhee wouldn't be so fucking overbearing", he repeated what he had said under his breath earlier, yelling.

You froze, eyes going wide. Suhee was his hair stylist and you thought that they both were just friends. But maybe there was more between them without you knowing. Why else should he have compared you with her?

"What?" you whispered. Maybe you just connected the dots wrong. Maybe it was just a misinterpretation.

He stilled, seeming to understand what he had said. A shocked expression appeared on his face, panicked when he took the last few steps to minimize the distance between you. Slowly, he rubbed his hands over your arms, wanting to calm you down.

"Y/n, I'm..." You brushed his fingers off your body. Finally, looking him in the eyes again.

"Did you sleep with her?" you whispered, your voice calm and dangerously cold.

"Y/n, wait-" you didn't let him finish his sentence. He concealed something from you.

"Jeongin, did you fuck Suhee?" you repeated your phrase emphazisingly. The silence ripped you apart. You hoped that it was a terrible misunderstanding, that he would negate it. But the painful look in his eyes told you otherwise.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. It was a mistake!" he cried out, sobbing uncontrollably. He tried to reach out to you but you just took some quick steps back. You couldn't let him touch you. You were disgusted by his appearance. Your heart was broken, shattered into a million tiny pieces.

You shook your head, distancing yourself more and more while your wishion became blurred. Never, you had thought that he would betray you. That he would cheat on you. It had happened to you before. Before you two dated, you were at the exact same position like now, hurt and broken. Jeongin was the one that picked every little piece of your heart up, one by one, and that why, it probably hurt even more to know that he was the one to do the exact same. And like before, you were left broken and in pain.

You pushed past him, trying to get to your bedroom. You couldn't stay here, not when every single happy memory haunted you. You just couldn't bare it. Quickly, you pulled out a suitcase and threw some clothes in it. Just the most important things so that you could survive some days.

You will crash at your friend's house for the time being, until you figured out, where you could stay for the long run.

"What are you doing?" Jeongin cried out, sobbing like hell. He knew of your past and that you hated to be betrayed. And he knew damn well that this was the end of your relationship.

"I can't stay here. I will get my other things during the next week" you said while strolling out of the bedroom. He followed you like a toddler, begging you to stay and to give him another chance even when he knew that it would never happen.

"Goodbye, Jeongin" you whispered, holding back from crying. You would wait until you shut the door properly before breaking apart. You wouldn't give him the chance to see how broken you are and how much his little 'mistake' hurt you.

[cripplecharacters]

This might be kind of a weird question, but would someone who has had nystagmus since birth be able to have schizoaffective disorder, and if so, would they experience visual hallucinations?

Don't worry about questions being weird!

This answer is gonna be long, I apologize in advance!

Small disclaimer that we don't currently have blind mods, but this answer is based on research.

So, a 2011 research study seems to suggest that being born congenitally blind or going blind very early in life 'protects' against developing schizophrenia later in life. I know you mentioned schizoaffective disorder, but it is closely related to schizophrenia that it is relevant to this discussion; the treatment for both is very similar, as well. If you've ever seen the claim "No blind person has ever been diagnosed with schizophrenia," this is probably where it comes from.

The study itself has a 2012 commentary (which is what I linked above) that mentions that it might not be definitive, and that what might be happening is that both conditions are uncommon enough that a joint occurrence is therefore much rarer; especially because it specifically refers to congenital or early blindness, as opposed to blindness that can happen later in life. It also refers specifically to blindness as opposed to low vision/visual impairment, which may or may not be what your character has.

From it, I quote:

"[I]t is remarkable that in over 60 years, and with several investigations [including several before DSM-III (1980) when criteria for schizophrenia were broader than at present], not a single case of a C/E blind schizophrenia patient has been reported."

As well as:

"These data suggest a unique relationship between C/E blindness and schizophrenia. However, we acknowledge that the absence of evidence (of people with both conditions) is not evidence of absence."

Now, from what I know of nystagmus, it often causes visual impairment/low vision as opposed to exclusively blindness, which is a significantly lower visual acuity. The study speaks specifically of congenital blindness, which is often the lowest visual acuity or maybe just light perception or similar.

Doing elaborate research study math, if your character is visually impaired rather than legally or totally blind, this means your character is more likely to be able to develop schizoaffective disorder than a character who is legally or totally blind. The chances might still be low, but I feel it's an existing possibility, taking into account the information I have about all of these.

Additionally, whether they're able to experience visual hallucination will likely depends on whether they've ever experienced visual information. Someone who never has experienced visual information due to being born totally blind will not experience visual hallucinations, because that part of their brain isn't "turned on," so to speak, and wouldn't have anything to go off of. But they could experience auditory hallucinations, or tactile ones.

Anyway, I know this doesn't give you a definitive answer because I could not find one, but I hope this helps!

– mod sparrow

[mutant-distraction]

One of the most precious mushroom species on this planet.

The elusive wrinkled peach mushroom (Rhodotus palmatus).

Wrinkled peach is the common name for an uncommon species, Rhodotus palmatus. Other common names include rosy vein cap or netted rhodotus. It's widely distributed, and grows all over the world- although actual fruitings are sparse. It is pretty rare to actually spot one.

With the decline of ash wood and elm trees throughout Europe and Britain, these majestic mushrooms are increasingly becoming rarer and more endangered.

If you're wondering, the red sap-like substance is called "guttation", which is basically the mushroom's way of purging excess water as it grows.

Photo credit: Jamie Hall

Source: Critters Of The World & Southern Outdoor Education

[piratefishmama]

Winged Eddie has me DYING I tell you, DYING. Like, it's so so so good.

In a sort of analysis way (which I understand was probably not how you wrote it but yk death of the author and all that) the wings are a GREAT metaphor for visible queerness and disability. Just scrumptious. I am eating this concept.

But also just like on a pure enjoyment level - THIS IS SO GOOD. IM SCREAMING. Steve finding out that petting the wings is a thing for Eddie - and then having like a 3 pronged conflict because he did that, but he wasn't trying to arouse Eddie, just take care of him, and now Eddie has run away ashamed and embarrassed and Steve needs him to know that he is so so so into him but also he needs him to know that he could tell Steve to stop and that he doesn't have to be ashamed or embarrassed

Just absolutely screaming I tell you. I'm eating this whole thing. Scrumdiddlyumptious

Ehe u caught me a lil bit, I was kind of aiming for it being an "othering" sort of thing with how it's not UNCOMMON, that there's way more of them in big cities and such but they're rarer in small towns in the middle of nowhere, like queerness and disabilities in general.

Steve has always been a caretaker type too, he mothers his friends, he big brothers the kids, he's a babysitter, a caregiver, he CARES, it's his love language to provide care for someone, and what better way can he care for someone than to groom their wings for them, something they're clearly struggling to keep ontop of themselves. Eddie may seem like he's doing it on purpose but Steve's caught him struggling to itch a spot multiple times and he's SEEN him stress out over pin feathers still stuck in keratin sheaths when he thinks no-one is looking.

And Steve knows he can do that. He can help with that, an when Eddie LETS him he doesn't think anything of it because why would he? He's just helping out, he's absolutely positive that it means way more to him than it does to Eddie, but he's very wrong abt that.

Eddie is so sure Steve will be weirded out by him enjoying it like that. And Steve is so sure that he's done something wrong, and Eddie is VERY good at running and hiding, despite the wings he's pretty good at disappearing, so it's basically up to the party to figure out what the hell happened cause they're not talking and lemme tell u.

Dustin is sufficiently mortified to learn that if they were BIRDS, Steve would have been basically one step away from mounting his DM lmao. just whining cause "Steeeeeeevvee it's a boyfriend/girlfriend thing, Steve!!"

Now the question Steve is pondering is why Eddie allowed it to happen if it was a boyfriend girlfriend thing. Many thoughts. Many, many thoughts!!

[neoarchipelago]

(Winged!reader anon) I'm thinking it's set in a world where physical mutations are more normal but still a bit rare. And even rarer in the military. But then a new recruit comes and 141 is just waiting for a plane or a chopper and suddenly a person drops from the ground lol

Just HCs of 141 dealing with a recruit with wings. Whether they're feather or more bat like wings is up to you, size of them as well 😉

Hopefully this is enough info to go off of

OH NICE.

Ok here it is.

(Winged!reader) x squad 141 (monster hybrid AU)

When you had dropped down from the sky, in front of the line of four, five men in front of you, you had wanted to hide.

It wasn't exactly a secret that people like you existed... But it was definitely uncommon. Your big grey white black wings retracting shyly around you. It was extremely close to falcon wings, which was exactly what you were the closest to. You had also inherited of the exceptional sight of the bird.

"Well! That's interesting!" One of the men said.

"WOAH. THAT'S SO COOL" A Scottish accent added.

You blushed and finally let out a small smile.

It took a few days to get used to the base. The new team was nice. You had learnt their names, Soap, gaz, Konig, ghost and Price. They seemed to be quite alright with your physical appearance.

Konig was always mesmerized. He'd sit close to you, eyes shining in wonder. He'd ask very shyly if he could touch your feathers, happily squealing when you'd agree. He was always really careful with the feathers. He liked to pass his finger tips on the edged, feeling the softness of it. With time, you'd give him each feather that would fall from your wings.

Gaz had been more curious about your sight. He had questionned you for hours, trying to satisfy his curiosity. Sometimes he'd ask you to fly over the base as he'd hide, creating some kind of 'where his waldo' in real life. He'd be amazed each time you'd find him so easily.

Soap just wanted to fly. He'd ask you to try and make him fly. It was hard. He was a bit heavy for you. You usually managed to get him off the floor and enough to fly a few inches from the ground. Eventually he'd be so happy of it you'd feel slightly guilty for not being stronger.

Price would often scold them, telling them to leave you alone. He'd be particularly careful to the way others treated you around the base. It was still rare to see hybrids like you, people were curious, scared or plain disgusted. He'd try to shield you from it as much as possible.

Ghost had also noticed it. The way some recruits would side glance you, or the way they'd whisper under their breath. He had taken upon himself to train you. It wasn't easy, he wasn't used to it, but he adapted very quickly. You had felt particularly close to him, when one night, after a training session, you had both walked out to find a pouring storm outside. Ghost had cursed under his breath, taking a step into the rain, expecting to feel the cold droplets. He was shocked to feel no difference, he had glanced up, a spread out wing shielding him from the rain. He had eyed you, as you were unable to do the same for yourself, he had took off his coat throwing it over your head and walking you back to the baracks.

With time, you had felt at home with the squad. But tile passed and the rest of the base was still weary of you. You felt awful sometimes. The fear in people's eyes... Or the little insults barely audible to no other than you. You sometimes felt horrible, and particularly down.

On a particular bad episode, the boys had grown worried. A little meeting in between soap, gaz, Konig and Ghost took place in one of the common rooms of your quarters.

"do you think they're unhappy? Like a bird in a cage?" Soap had asked.

"i don't think so... She can go out and fly whenever she wants..." Gaz countered.

"maybe snacks..?" Konig asked.

Ghost looked in deep thought, soap trying to get his attention. The man frowned before spilling what's in his mind.

"birds...nest right?" He had let out.

Suddenly little light bulbs had popped over the boys heads. Of course! You missed a nest!

They had hurried up to buy an enormous fluffy bean bag, it barely feet in ghost jeep. Pillows, lots of pillows and blankets to add.

Once they arrived at base they made sure you were out of your room before preparing the 'nest' in a corner. It looked like a little fort, Konig had insisted on adding fairy lights.

When you had walked into your room with price you had blinked a few times, trying to figure out the scenery before you.

"what are you boys doing?" You asked.

"we built a nest for you!" Soap had happily yelled.

"yeah, we made sure it's comfy and cozy" gaz added.

"thought it'd make you feel better..." Ghost mumbled.

You had immediately blushed hiding your face in your hands, wings retracting closer to your body.

Price had burst out laughing, confuse settling on the boys faces.

"what?" Soap asked.

"you built a nest? You guys built a nest? For them?" He had tried to make them understand the situation.

"yes..." Konig had said in a small voice.

"congratulations Y/N... You have now 4 full grown suitors trying to be your mate." He laughed before walking out, the boys gasping as they understood the situation.

After that, they had apologized. You didn't mind, after all you really enjoyed the nest. You often found yourself nest there, reading or listening to music.

When the boys had understood the real situation, they had grown extremely protective of you. Soap had grown jealous of the way you'd shield ghost from the rain or the sun, he'd insist to hide under as well. Eventually you'd end up with three big grown man, shielding themselves under your spread out wings, price scolding them but none moving.

Konig calls you birdie.

Soap calls you feathers.

Gaz teases you calling you 'falcon' 'robin' or 'hawkeye'.

Price calls you his little bird.

Ghost calls you angel, but only when you're both alone.

[crystalbeetle888]

Promising Future

1.8k Words - SFW - Hybrid AU

- brief mentions of kidnapping, violence, torture, minor fluff -

The darkness surrounding you seems eternal, not knowing where your body ends or the walls of the cold hard shipping container begins. At least the freezing nights were better than the sweltering days, inside that metal box it felt like an oven. Your arms ache, the thick chain holding them loosely above your head clinks as you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. The rusted muzzle weighs heavy around your skull, its mouthpiece sharp against your tongue.

You had been in hiding for most of your life, living amongst a small rural community in Alaska. Before an unmarked militia group came through to clear the people out for an upcoming oil line. As they did they took you, a rare feral hybrid, Lupus-Versipellis, a wolf hybrid. Feral hybrids were rarer than domestic species like dogs or cats, and are often outcast and forced into hiding for being assumed dangerous. Which just makes them all the more allusive.

You couldn’t tell how long it had been since your capture, but your hair had since grown long down your back, matts littered throughout. You have had many different buyers all across the world try to break you into a pliant soldier. Various methods were inflicted upon you. From beatings to negotiations, from tying you to a post for days with no food or water, to attempted medical and chemical reconditioning. Key word, attempted. Little was actually known on hybrid physiology so it wasn’t uncommon for people to under-sedate you. They quickly learnt that wasn’t the safest method for reconditioning.

Your latest buyers seemed to be Mexican. They never spoke to you but based on the tattoos you saw when they came to feed you, the general climate, and the fact that you could hear them speaking Spanish outside of the shipping container, strongly hinted at the Cartel. You had only really heard about them through wild action movies and terrible bar jokes though, so other than that you were in the dark. Literally.

Your ears perk at the sound of distant gunfire, it echoes loudly through the previously still night. You rattle your chains in suspense. You can hear yelling and loud explosions. Then, nothing. You wait for what seems like forever before the shuffling of footsteps and the clanging of metal breaks the silence. A stream of silver light shines through the darkness as the door slowly scrapes open and two silhouettes come into view.

“Fooken hell, they av’ a hybrid” a Scottish man's voice echos.

You growl deeply at them, the noise vibrating through your chest. “A cranky one at that. Get the Colonel, he’s gonna wanna see this ""Yes sargent” the other man replies before disappearing from view.

You squint at the man, struggling to see him properly as he approaches. “Easy there lass, M’ not gonna hurt ya” he mutters, arms out wide in submission. You shake your chains violently, trying to scare him off. “Easy, Easy” he finally steps close enough for you to see him. He’s a stocky white male with a short brown mohawk and piercing blue eyes. “Easy there lass, I’m just trying to help ya”. Your heart pounds against your chest, panic overwhelms your mind as he reaches a cautious hand towards the back of your head “Hay I’m just trying to get it off” he reassures you. Your breathing is laboured, you eye his hand as it reaches behind you and lifts the heavy padlock. Your ears press flat against your skull as you watch him cautiously.

Suddenly three more silhouettes appear at the door “Dios Mio” a gravelly voice whispers. “Alejandro! We're gonna need some bolt cutters” the man next to you calls out. “Aye!” he responds before whispering to the other man in spanish. You swing the chains violently, trying to free yourself from their confines. A muffled wail ripping from your throat at your fruitless attempts. “Hay, hay, hay, take it easy!”, “Calm down niña”, “You need to quit that darling” the men unsuccessfully try to reason with you as you continue to thrash around. Pain shooting through your shoulders causes you to fall limp against the chains, the weight of your body on your arm causes you to cry out.

Suddenly, the weight on your arms is lifted as you’re hauled into the air, the Scottish man's thick arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, his head pressing into your stomach. You stop thrashing and stare at him, completely stunned. You’re finally able to rest your arms. You place them slowly on top of his head, groaning as the tension releases from your shoulder blades. “Better?” he squeezes your leg, you huff in response. “So you understand english” you huff again, staring down at him as he gazes back up at you. His stubble prickles your bare stomach as he talks, his skin radiating heat. “So she’s friendly then?” the southern white man asks. You growl in response causing the scot to chuckles “Careful Graves, she’s a feisty one” he pats your legs. “She’ll fit right in then camarada” Alejandro says.

Finally a young man walks into the shipping container holding some bolt cutters. “Let’s get you free then aye lass?” the scott smiles up at you. The young man approaches hesitantly before looking to his superior, “Go on” he says to the younger man. He turns back towards you, you can hear his heartbeat racing in his chest as he places the jaws of the bolt cutters around the padlock on your wrist. He struggles for a moment before…Snap! A cuff falls from you, the chain connected to the ceiling now hangs loosely. You grip onto the man's shoulder with your free hand, offering up the other. He readies the bolt cutters and…Snap! You’re so close to being free.

The scotsman squats down, placing you gently on the floor “Don’t try and stand up yet lass” he rubs your bare back in comfort before grabbing the padlock on your muzzle “Take it easy on this one amigo”. The young man nods, positioning the cutters and…Snap! The scott takes the padlock off, before unclasping the muzzle and pulling it off your face and out your mouth. You breathe out your mouth freely for the first time in years. The cold air graces your lips. You bring your now trembling hands up to your face, you feel so weightless. A sob escapes your throat as you sit there in your newly found freedom. “You’re alright, we’ve got ya bonnie” he places a warm hand on your back.

The hospital room was dimly lit and smelled strongly of chemicals you couldn't quite place. After cutting you down, the Scottish man named Johnny, escorted you back to the hospital at their base. Doctors and nurses fluttered around you, curious at your unique appearance. They placed you on a drip, bandaged your wrists and and sponge bathed the rest of you down. You were put in thin shorts and a shirt that tied up on the sides, the grippy socks they provided didn’t fit your feet as your claws had grown so long they tore straight through them.

You listened intently to the conversations down the hall, most of them were about you, but you weren't interested in all their gossip. They’re not who you’re waiting for. Heavy boots thumping through the hall towards you catch your attention. Your ears stand straight, focused in on the door as they approach. The handle rattles and the door swings open, revealing Johnny carrying a large tray of assorted meats “Wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I had ‘em put a bit of everythin’ on” he smiles, walking into the room casually, he places the tray on your lap.

The smell of raw meat makes your hair prickle and stand on end. You were starving. Snatching the food off the tray you rip into it, snapping and growling as you eat. “Easy there lass, don’t want you to choke” he chuckles, sitting down in the chair beside your bed. Ignoring him, you continue to chomp through your charcuterie of meat until someone else enters the room. You glance up at them wearily, it was Alejandro, the colonel running this base. “How is she holding up?” he asks Johnny. “Enjoying the food, still hasn’t said a word though” he responds. Alejandro nods before directing his attention to you. Your ears flatten against your head, a growl rumbling from your chest. He huffs in mild amusement “You can grumble all you want senora, but eventually you’ll have to talk to us” he chastises you, folding his arms over his broad chest. You look away from him, nibbling timidly on your food. You don’t like being forced to do things, or talk, or anything really. Your capture has made you increasingly stubborn.

He grunts at your behaviour, “I’ll come back tomorrow once you’re healed more, maybe some exercise will loosen you up hmm?” He nods at Johnny before turning back around and leaving the room.

“We’re not going to be able to help ya if you don’t talk to us Bonnie” he whispers as gently as his thick accented voice would allow him to. You side eye him, huffing out your nose in reluctance. “Would you at least tell me your name?” He pleads with you, leaning his elbows the side of the bed.

Anxiety shoots through your body like electricity. You had learned early on in your capture that the less they know about you, the better. This meant no talking to anyone about anything, no responding, and certainly no trusting them. When they had nothing on you it was easier to act like a complete animal, after all that’s all that you were to them. A feral beast.

Your lip quivers as you try to muster up the courage to say something, anything. You wanted to trust him that this was all over, but you couldn’t. He was just another soldier following orders.

You clenched your jaw tightly and shook your head, brows furrowed in frustration. He sighs before standing “That’s alright lass, I’ll try to check up on you tomorrow aye” he says, as he makes his way to the door.

You let out a gasp as he is about to leave, trying to will yourself to say something. A moment passes in silence.

“Thank you” you whisper meekly, barely audible.

He turns to look at you, a wide grin stretched across his face, his eyes twinkling with joy “I’ll see you tomorrow dove” he says before gently closing the door behind him. Your face feels hot and your tummy flutters ‘Why did he smile at me like that?’ You think to yourself. Shaking off the strange feeling, you place the now empty food tray to the side before snuggling under the cover. It isn’t long before exhaustion takes its toll, and you drift off into a deep sleep.

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

im officially coming off anon hi its tossball-stick 🐊 obsessed with your mythical creature au youve got going. id love to hear more about it, should you wanna tell. satyr kieran and sean are gonna stick in my head for forever thank you so much

Thank you!!! Me and @eggsaladsweetie work hard at it for fun :) I am glad it has captured your interest.

We have a google doc that contains information about the AU (it’s a WIP tho)

I can summarize bits of the world lore. Some will be copy pasted, others will be informally summarized.

——

General gist:

The AU is centered around the RDR2 world except fantasy creatures have existed alongside humans for centuries. The creatures range from well known in folklore like unicorns, all the way to mix-match fantasy creatures.

These creatures are magical in regard to being able to shapeshift into humans, talk to humans, and hide amongst humans. Besides that, there isn’t much magic in the world (as of writing this post).

Story details:

There is no decided story for the AU currently. Some details are altered, like certain characters dying at different points than they do in-game (Sean survives past chapter 3! Long enough to see Bronte’s mansion).

In the story, Arthur realizes Dutch is off his rocker sooner than Arthur realizes in-game. This is because Arthur and Micah have a more amicable friendship in the AU and Micah is willing to tell Arthur that he believes Dutch isn’t doing okay, mentally and physically.

Arthur still gets sick too. Chronic wasting disease!! He gets it from Mary Linton (another Deertaur) while she sick in the town of Valentines looking for her brother.

The story still ends like how it does in-game (that’s the plan as of writing this). Dutch still leaves Arthur to die on the mountain and doesn’t team up with Micah again until much, much later.

General Creature Lore:

- Note: species is not a stand in for race, ethnicity, or nationality. Most groups or organizations are a mix match of species so as to not make the connection that a species represents a specific group of people. When groups of one species do form, it is in a wild animal way or family. A herd of satyr is like herding behavior in goats. A group of Wursts form a group because they are family. Multi species groups are not uncommon.

Humans have existed alongside mythical creatures since humans have existed alongside wild animals. Humans have tried many times to domesticate mythical creatures but they all possessed such intelligence and resilience that many religions, philosophers, and groups proclaimed the creatures as something both inhuman and too human.

The creature’s ability to shapeshift into humans was disliked by many. Cultures across the world hunted mythical creatures for the resources and to eliminate the overlap of mythical and human interaction (though not all cultures. Groups and certain cultures carved space for these mythical creatures to coexist alongside them and even work them into their religions, traditions, and ceremonies).

They came to be known interchangeably as monsters, mythicals, or fantasy creatures. There are connotations attached to them of course (“monster” sounds scarier than “mythicals”), but in use they all mean the same thing.

Mythicals (depending on their size and niche) used to be common but with human expansion, they’d become rarer and rarer. Seeing a mythical is like seeing a shiny Pokémon.

Mythicals and their view of humans is a mix of instinct vs knowledge. Mythicals have the fight or flight instinct of animals at their core, but they have the human intelligence to reason, rationalize, evaluate, judge, and hold grudges. Almost all mythicals avoid humans (unless in disguise) so as to not even risk the chance of a negative interaction with a human. One upset human could lead to a whole village ready to kill.

All species can disguise as human. They can look the part but it requires practice and either really good studying or having an acting coach to nail behaving human. Even harder to do it convincing enough to trick humans.

When disguised, their fur/pelt turns into their human clothes. This means any animal that transforms leaves a visual tell behind. Ex: Dutch’s suit always has a black leopard print which is visible when the light hits it right. Colm has gray feathers in his hat.

[there is a lot more about monsters and especially specific monsters in the google doc]

VDL gang:

The VDL gang is an organized pack of mythical creatures that were all taken under wing by Dutch and Hosea (be it sick, injured, starving, too feisty for their own good, or other).

Packs of various mythical species isn’t unheard of but for one to be so big and so tightly knit is rare; most packs that form are temporary and seasonal for survival.

The VDL has close to the same dynamic as they do in-game.

Monsters come in 3 sizes in the world (check google doc, it explains in detail these sizing in the general monster section). The 3 size classification loosely dictates what duties members do:

Small creatures often help around camp since they can’t take part in major fights. That isn’t to say they are defenseless, they can very might fight.

Medium creatures both help around camp and go out to make money for the gang. They are the nimble pawns for the gang to use where needed.

Large creatures main job is to pull wagons when they are traveling, but from the day-to-day, they make money and help around camp with heavy chores like carrying things. They have a stigma for being the laziest in the gang because their big size makes it hard for them to be used in every mission, but they’re the big guns for missions and do a lot of work when needed.

[more info on the VDL members in the doc]

Other Groups in the Story:

The Pinkertons: Government organized group for eliminating mythical creatures (on top of being a detective agency…)

They take up hunting down the VDL gang after throwing their weight around one too many times and making it an emergency to capture and or kill the gang and its beastly members.

Angelo Bronte: mythical taxidermy collector and mafia leader.

His mansion is stocked with well crafted taxidermy pieces of baby spinx chubs forever frozen in play. Taxidermy of satyr dancing and playing instruments but never making a sound.

The VDL gang hates being in human disguise while being forced to look at taxidermy of their own species.

—

That’s the broad strokes as of right now. You could ask @eggsaladsweetie and see what they have to say about the AU.

I will happily talk about specific characters or specific species or anything else in detail, just send an ask.

[violettintedfeathers]

You ever think about how stressful it would be in-universe if someone caught a shiny Legendary Pokémon? Imagine it. You're a Pokémon researcher. You haven't seen any Legendary Pokémon in person, but you know they're out there. There are enough depictions of them out there and enough anecdotal eyewitness accounts that you at least have a pretty good idea of what even the rarer ones look like, can make an image for the textbooks and Pokèdex, even if there's some guesswork. You don't know much about, say, Giratina, but from what very scarce depictions the mythologists have managed to dig up, you're pretty sure it has some red on it. All the depictions agree on that count. Then some kid shows up with this creature of legend banished to another world, and it's blue. It is unmistakably, vividly blue, not a trace of red to be found. Now, you're not dumb. You know that Pokémon occasionally have drastically different colors, know all about what a Shiny Pokémon is and how uncommon they are. And that's your first thought. Well, obviously, this thing is shiny. But then it dawns on you - how can you know? Preponderance of the evidence suggests it. Why else would all these surviving depictions portray it as red otherwise? But could you prove it? Can you definitively say that's the case? Assuming this thing is shiny has the advantage of fewer assumptions than, say, assuming all of these people choosing red as a stylistic choice because of its associations with violence, but it's not like you can rule out something like that. You can't even rule out that there are multiple specimens of this thing out there and that there's a red specimen out there and it's the shiny. Though, you're pretty sure there's only supposed to be a single specimen of this thing, and in some ways that makes it worse. Kid came in with a lime green Arcticuno instead? Eh, heck, you can work with that. At least you have a shot at seeing a couple others in your lifetime and seeing which color is more common. Something like Giratina? If there is another one, you aren't going to see it. At least if you could see another one, and it was red, you could credibly say "okay, so there is a red one, and since it was more commonly seen and depicted, the blue one is probably shiny". But you'll never see another one, and you know it. So you know this thing is supposed to be red. You know that. You even call up the mythology buffs and they reconfirm it for you. They outright say not a one of the surviving depictions shows it as blue. In your heart of hearts, you believe a typical Giratina is red. Yet here it is, in the flesh before you, blue as can be. And because you can't dispute the possibility that this might be its normal coloration and the depictions were all wrong, and because these are the only reliable photos and documentation you or anyone you know is ever going to get, you have to base everything off of what's right in front of you. And so, despite everything, you have to update every darn textbook, every dex entry, everything to show Giratina as blue, because as far as anyone knows, and as far as the accompanying pictures are going to show, it's blue. It'd be frustrating, I think.

[duckprintspress]

New Resource: Pride Flag Guide

Duck Prints Press has added a new resource to our webpage! Frequently, I need a reference for common and uncommon Pride flags, and I always end up having to look them up and pull info from six different places, and that’s annoying. So instead, now I’ve got my own list with the information I need! This list is not exhaustive, and I cannot guarantee that all the flags are the most currently accepted versions – things like this change so fast! – but I did my best to make it decently thorough and accurately modern. I’m hoping to add to it with flags for rarer identities in the future, so be on the lookout. Don’t hesitate to get in touch if you spot any issues or want to suggest an addition.

Resource: Pride Flag Guide

Did you know we have a bunch of resources on our webpage? It includes DPP-specific things, like our Press kit, and freebies, like our zine with excerpts, and it also includes sample contracts, the Fandom Lexicon we compiled, and more!

[miscling]

Hi <3

For what it's worth, I love love love enthusiastic subs, way more than the subs that act all blushy and scared!

Beating someone up is incredibly more exciting for me if the person in question is moaning and panting and telling me harder please (and it helps me with Dom drop). Also seeing a sub so pathetic that it submits without fuss in exchange for nothing just makes me want to fuck them harder.

You're not broken or unlovable, you just have a different way of enjoying kink~

this is a very sweet and encouraging message

tbh though, this thing doesn't think it's broken or unlovable, or that it's way of being subby is all that uncommon. just that bratty subs and the dommy types that play with them are pretty loud. it's hard to do a multi-post reblog chain when your response to being told what to do is to do it; when your response to being degraded and humiliated is to accept it.

but more than a few folks have come up to say they prefer obedient subs, even a few who make a public spectacle out of breaking and teasing brats, but it feels rarer to see posts where someone's obedient sub is shown off as an example for others to follow.

and it sees way more folks who are obedient and looking for guidance than it does bratty sorts. it doesn't think its way is all that different or unusual, just often unsung.

although it would like to correct you on one point: this thing submits without a fuss in order to be praised. it doesn't submit for nothing. it submits because submission should be rewarded. if anything, its calls for more recognition of obedient subs is a call for dommy types to reward their pathetically obedient things more.

however, this answer got a bit longer than anticipated! oops!