#the pet names killed me

[theartofmadeline]

a medieval style rendition of my cat parzival as a knight

[murmurlilies]

everyone stop what you're doing and look at my littlest boy

[crustyfloor]

Till's piece from the event is a very honest depiction, but I want to examine it in more detail since it looks so interesting.

For one, I find the headpiece confusing, I was hesitant on this point in the last post I made covering this I assumed the headpiece Till is wearing (separate from the headphones) was this device.

There isn't even a name for that device, but it's been theorized that it serves a similar function have the collars pet humans have, but affects the pet humans in some way.

I believe it's a behavioral management device since there is an emphasis on the brain when it's shown. And just based on the design itself. I think the purpose of it is similar to a shock collar.

Till in this environment looks familiar, he has that focused expression that he always has when he's writing music, like he's in a daze. Since this is a practice in a controlled environment I think he might actually be handling an instrument this time around (hence the headphones). Till has a natural passion for music, the environment of Anakt Garden also appears more calm than what he goes through with Urak so he looks very much in his element.

But despite how calm, and focused he looks outwardly, his collar shows orange.

Till is giving with his expressions even around the aliens, so if he was feeling bad (I would suspect as much seeing the fresh experiment patches..) I believe it would look more obvious, but the difference threw me off a bit. I could be reaching (definitely) But given how unruly his behavior can be, and how much effort the aliens are putting into finding ways to subdue him I think they used that device to mellow him out so that they could properly monitor him.

The collar being orange gives me the impression that he's not as calm as he looks but the headpiece is keeping him in a 'sedated' state(?)

Red - Condition in the negatives, energy depleted, feeling bad. overall horrible state.

Orange, yellow - to a lesser extent, more like if you're feeling skittish, nervous, (think of this mode as feeling under the weather)

Green - Good, calm, happy, normal and a healthy mode.

(Translation by kh47uo on Twitter)

This behavior could also show desensitization, as he had likely been conditioned to not be phased nor show weakness in front of the aliens even if he feels bad, a way of tolerating. But this is just me trying to make sense of whatever that head gear was... he could've also been sedated beforehand (banging my head against the concrete)

Also interesting to me that we weren't shown Till doing other things, like dancing, or singing. I think it's a testament to Anakt's (And Urak's) priorities as they have Till build on his music skills, his strongest skill. It's probably because that's all he has to offer is his music (His grades in every other subject are a mess.). So building that to its greatest potential before anything is important. But it's a reminder of the situation, he's not so intense about his craft because of his inclination to it. He doesn't make music simply because he likes it, he does it because it's what he has to do to survive. Despite doing what he is naturally driven to do, he looks like he has had his life drained out of him.

Urak (the bastard) knows that for sure. Appearances, and 'decent' skills can get you far but overwhelming passion and skill can put you farther above all the rest, it's exactly why Luka is the best in his league, and why Urak pushes Till to his limits to surpass that even with such destructive means.

[theotherbuckley]

This is payback for the 40 something sentences btw

👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼🚁🚁🚁🚁🚁🚁😘😘😘😘

I brought this upon myself.... i have many regrets.

👧🏼 - dad!buck teacher!tommy (bucktommy)

“Daddy’s coming?” Bella asks, looking up at Buck with the biggest puppy eyes.  “Not today, baby, you’re at big school now!” He replies, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Come on! I’ll show you where your class is,” Christopher says enthusiastically, offering up a simple wave to Carla before he starts walking towards the classrooms, looking back towards Bella when he realises she’s not following. “Daddy has to come,” she begs, grasping on to Buck’s leg and holding on for dear life.  Buck honestly didn’t expect Bella to cry when he went to leave — frankly, he thought he’d be the one crying, watching his girl all grown up. Bella was never really the shy kid, always happy to meet new people and do new things. She could talk to strangers for hours about the most outlandish things. The other week they were at the zoo with the Diaz’s and Bella had walked up to the zookeeper, asking 100 different questions about sea otters which had become Bella’s latest hyperfixation for about a week. Buck had watched her talking away, smiling fondly. He had turned to Eddie shaking his head saying he didn’t know where she got it from to wish Eddie gave him a very pointed look and said, “Seriously?” So apparently ADHD is hereditary.  Point is, he didn’t really plan on Bella clinging to him the way she was now, and he didn’t know what to do. He’d do anything for his daughter, and watching her look up at him as she clung to his pant leg, made his heart break. He was helpless to do anything but walk up to her classroom with her.  They followed Christopher into the school, taking twists and turns that had Buck worrying how he was going to get out of this maze when he left. Chris finally stopped at the door of a class that had a bright pink number 5 cut out stuck to the door.  “Are we absolutely sure this is room five?” Buck joked upon seeing the sign. Bella looked up at him, hand still gripped tightly to Buck’s and said, “Yeah, Daddy, see! Number five!” she said, pointing to the door. They’d been practising number’s recently, Bella already surpassing Buck’s mental arithmetic ability by being able to add 5 and 7 — Buck still had to use his fingers. She definitely inherited her mother’s ability for math.  A second bell rang loudly in the hall, causing Bella to jump slightly in his hold. He squeezes her hand gently a few times to comfort her before looking towards Chris who still needed to get to his room. “See you later, Bella!” Christopher says, turning to walk down the hall towards his own class. “Come on, Bellie,” Buck said, guiding Bella into the class. There were about 10 other children sat at desks in the class, a few still with their parents which made Buck feel better about coming into the room with his daughter — not that he would leave anyway, not until he knew his daughter was happy. Noticing some cubby holes at the back of the class, Buck ushered Bella towards them to put her bag down.  Distracted by getting Bella into the desk that had her name on it, and getting her settled, Buck never stopped to look at the front of the class towards the teacher. When Bella had finally let go of his had, now apparently forgetting his existence and chatting very enthusiastically to a boy sat beside her, Buck looked up to see Bella’s teacher drawing in big letters on the whiteboard.  Buck has no idea how he missed him walking in because the man was huge. Buck thought his arms were huge as a firefighter but holy shit… apparently being a teacher makes you built like a fucking tank. The man was writing in curly letters on the board, spelling out “Mr. Kinard”. Once he’d finished he turned to face the room. Buck instantly noticed his deep blue eyes and the cleft of his chin that painted a very lovely picture for him to look at. The man caught his eye for a moment and smiled, the corners of his eyes and nose scrunching with smile lines that Buck felt completely normal about.  Buck had to clamp his mouth shut when he realised that he’d been staring, slack jawed at the objectively very handsome teacher.

🚁 - helicopter crash s8 (bucktommy)

The siren blares loudly above his head, some suburban house fire or something. Buck only half registers it, still stuck staring at the screen in front of him. He’s distantly aware of Eddie calling for him but he just can’t right now. He can’t. Captain Gerrard moves in front of the TV, forcing Buck to snap out of his gaze. “Get a fucking move on, Buckley,” he practically spits. Buck moves mechanically, forcing himself out of his chair and following his captain down towards the fire engines.  “Can I— Can I be man behind this time?” Buck says, his voice sounding small to his own ears.  “No,” Gerrard replies simply, not even turning to look back at him.  Johnson had been the man behind all day, apparently in punishment for failing to adequately wash the fire engine. Buck knew that the real reason was because Gerrard caught his boyfriend dropping him off in the morning.  “Please,” Buck says again, hating the way his voice breaks in the middle. He can’t focus right now — he’d be useless as a firefighter at the scene. It would be safer for everyone if he stayed back. Please— “Get in the truck,” Gerrard shouts at him. 

😘 - pet names 10+1 (bucktommy)

Buck swallows. “What-whatever do you mean, sweetums?” Buck says, before wincing immediately. “Okay, okay,” Buck relents, “I’m trying out pet names. And they’re not going great, especially not sweetums.” Buck cringes again. “But, I will come up with a good one. Just you wait.” Tommy’s expression turns fond as he stares at Buck with the cutest look Buck thinks a man could possibly make. “Baby, you don’t have to give me a pet name. Tommy’s fine,” Tommy says sincerely. “Besides,” Tommy says, lips quirking up at the edges. “I kinda like hearing you moan my name.” Buck trips through the door.

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 5.

Previous part. Masterpost.

Content: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an inhuman whumpee, pet whump, whipping, blood, physical abuse, withholding of food, training, torture, intimate whumper, carewhumper, mentioned pet death, tell me if i missed something

Lord Teelo didn’t strike. 

He lowered his arm, eyes never straying from holding the creature’s terrified gaze. The room reeked of blood, now streaming down the lord’s fingers in a warm waterfall. He worked hard on pushing his fury back, taking it under control as many times before. He was in control. He would show it, careful and persistent and levelheaded. He would make sure it remembered the lesson forever. The crop was not meant for punishments, it was too short, too soft – he hadn’t meant to punish it. He was going to be a kind and gracious owner. It had left him no choice!

He opened the door, finding the redheaded guard still in the corridor.

“Get a proper whip,” he ordered. “More chains – gods damned handcuffs, whichever idiot thought of leaving it like this?! And a knife, scissors – or whatever, something to file its atrocious claws.”

The guard stared at him, not in the face – at his arm. Lord Teelo felt it – the consistent drip-drip-drip of his blood. He didn’t feel the ache yet. Nothing but the quiet, cold fury he couldn’t wait to unleash at the world. Haltingly, the guard started, “Should I bring someone to take a look at–”

“I have told you what you should do,” his voice came out as a hiss.

“Yes, my lord,” the guard saluted and hesitated only a moment before running down the corridor. 

Lord Teelo closed the door with a loud crash. He paced inside, steps echoing around the room, as the pain slowly started to radiate out. He hated it. Oh how he wished he could slice the thing’s skin just this moment, not waiting for anything and anyone. He picked up the crop once more, stoped before the creature – it cowered to the very corner between the wall and its cage, never letting its eyes away from him. Oh, now it was looking. It dared to look! 

“You think yourself smart?” the lord hissed. “Think you did something good for yourself? Oh, no, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret this so much.”

The pain seeped into his consciousness with every heartbeat, radiant and nauseatingly familiar. He held a handkerchief to the cuts until it filled with deep red. He threw it away – it landed in a wet disgusting lump on the table, by the bowl of wet disgusting meat. Oh how the lord had tried to be a nice host, how he had tried to accommodate this, this– 

“Damned, ungrateful, hateful beast!” Lord Teelo roared. The glass of the bowl nearly slipped from his bloodied fingers when he grabbed it, and then shattered to thousands pieces to the side of the creature’s head. Its dinner fell onto the floor, useless. Oh, it wouldn’t get any, it would have to work, to beg for any crumb from then on – it would regret, regret it so much!..

The door slid open soundlessly after a short knock, letting in the heavy footsteps and the clanging of metal. The lord turned on his heels, facing the guard. “And why in the world have you not brought a damned healer!” he hissed. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding out!”

The guard blinked. “But you have–” 

“YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME?!” 

He was struggling to breathe, chest heaving with effort. The blood was still warm down his arm, still bright on the broken glass and light wood of his floors. How could the idiot not understand!

There were chains in the guard’s arms and a leathery length of the whip. Lord Teelo snatched it and demanded, “Chain it up!” The guard hesitated, opened his mouth. “NOW!” 

He did. The lord watched as he came to the beast, careful with his steps, cautious of it. It squeezed itself deeper into the corner. Lord Teelo could see it shaking. He was delighted to see it shaking. The guard reached out, the first cuff prepared, and Lord Teelo watched from a step away as it lifted its hands up, close to its chest. Its teeth were bared, pupils wide and eyes wider. It tried saying something, but what came out was only a mess of sounds with no meaning. 

The guard squeezed its arm even as it tried to avoid it. It whined and fought back, tried getting out of the grasp, tried pushing him away, tried and fought and struggled as he cursed under his nose. Its claws went through the skin of his palm ripping out a sharp hiss. It managed to raise its hind leg as the cuff clicked around its wrist, its claws scratching against the metal in an effort that only delayed the inevitable. 

Lord Teelo had little patience left. He stepped forward, connecting his heel with the middle of the creature’s tail. It yelped, flinched backwards – its head connected with the wall, and before it could regroup the second handcuff was in place. After that, restraining its legs was only a matter of time.

“Turn it around,” the lord ordered. Chains clang as it fought in an ever increasing panic. “To the wall, yes… yes, just like that.” The locks rattled, forced closed. The guard let the key fall onto the ground, forcing the creature to kneel. It hid its tail between its legs, whining as its head was pressed into the wall. “Is the chain short enough? Will it be able to move?”

“I don’t think so, my lord,” the guard answered. 

Lord Teelo played with the whip, trying it out. “Good. Go fetch the healer– wait. I need – something sharp, something – to secure on its tail. See how it hides it? I need something it can’t hide from.”

The guard looked puzzled. He eased his hold in a test, and the creature threw its whole weight backwards, fighting the chains. They held. Kneeling, with its tail hidden and only back visible, it looked strikingly like a human. “Perhaps clothespins, my lord?” It wasn’t what he had in mind. What he wanted – it wasn’t that. Not this easy, tame solution.

“It would work,” he drew out. He would go to the smith when he had time. He had an idea, oh, that would be a genius idea. “Just this once."

He flexed his left arm and rubbed his right. It hurt as all deaths, but it had stopped bleeding. He failed to crack the whip the first time but managed it the second, inches from the creature’s back. The guard bowed, taking it as a sign to leave. 

The creature mumbled and mumbled more, sounds a meaningless mush falling from its tongue. If Lord Teelo was generous, he could see it as an apology; he would not even entertain the possibility of giving in to it, of course. 

The second crack was right by its ear. It flinched and curled up further but couldn't hide.

It wailed when the whip connected with its back – so loud, so quickly, taken by surprise. Lord Teelo bared his teeth in a smile and struck again, violent purple already flowering on the gray of its skin, and struck again without waiting – three, four, six, twelve hits in a row, as it flinched and writhed and cried out.

He paused afterwards, and saw as it tensed, first, its whole body shaking with the effort of breathing, hiccupping in what sounded almost like sobs. He waited, watching how it trembled more and more. He let it marinate in the anticipation, the fear coiling and coiling with no release, the stinging of its sore back growing as its patience ran thin. 

When it raised its head, just barely, as if to look, the whip snapped through the air again. 

It screamed out. He didn’t give it time to recover. 

The lord hit it with no pattern, pausing and continuing at his leisure, until his arm grew heavy with pain and the creature nearly silent. Lord Teelo could only hear its labored breathing, air forced out of its body with every strike. Its back bloomed with purple that gave way to red when the skin opened, the new lines covering the rainbow pattern in an unstructured, repulsive mess.

Oh, he nearly pitied it, trembling pathetically in the corner. Then he rubbed his arm and the sharp pain was enough to remember why he didn’t. 

He struck for the last time, lazily, with his left, and then a few more for a good measure. When a polite knock announced the guard’s return, he felt pleasantly tired, like after a good work out. He called out for the man to enter. 

The guard did and the healer, an old woman the lord knew for most of his life, followed in. She looked the room over with stony, unreadable expression, and Lord Teelo met her gaze with a nice enough smile. “You’ve got your toy,” she stated and that was all the attention the creature got from her. 

She made a quick enough work of the wounds: cleaned and bandaged them up after applying that miraculous numbing cream the lord appreciated since early childhood. The creature would appreciate it even more, he thought, glancing at the pathetic thing. It had shifted at some point, stretching its legs just a bit but keeping its head hidden. Its body shook violently, trembling so much it in itself looked tiring. 

“Should I look it over?” the healer suggested, all business. 

The lord huffed, “What would the point of a punishment be then?” 

The woman looked him over with that annoying, unreadable gaze. “Call me whenever you change your mind,” she bowed and left when he dismissed her. 

Lord Teelo tried the clothespins with interest, forcing the spring to coil and then letting it go softly around his finger, just a tad, until it started hurting. “Good enough,” he concluded finally and got up. 

The creature flinched when his boots stopped by its form but didn’t try anything. “Poor thing,” he drew out and crouched, ran his fingers along its back lightly, brushing fingertips over the painful ridges of future bruises. Its breaths hitched, but it didn’t make a sound. “And all you needed was to not act like a brainless brat to avoid all this. You have no one but yourself to blame, silly thing,” he told it. It didn’t answer, shivering under his touch but not attempting anything stupid. 

“But maybe you can learn,” he hummed and moved his hand down to where its tail started. It tensed even further, if it was possible at all. “Let’s just make sure the lesson sticks, huh?” It curled up even further as he tagged on its tail, releasing from under the creature’s body. He flickered it back and forth and rubbed between his fingers and was satisfied when it sobbed and shuddered but remained motionless otherwise. 

“Like this, yes,” he muttered. With the softest touch of his second hand, he stoked its head. “But look at me now. Eyes on me,” It didn’t understand. He caught a fistful of its fur and tagged. “Eyes on me.”

Too drained to resist, it lifted its head as he guided it. “Eyes on me,” he demanded again, and it either guessed or truly learned – its gaze settled on him, focusing to the best of its ability – and, oh, what a pathetic mess it looked, eyes bloodshot and wet in ways he’d thought only a human's could be, dark lines from where it pressed into the floorboards marking its cheeks. There was something red around its mouth – did it bite itself, the poor thing? 

Lord Teelo clicked his tongue, smiled softly and released its fur. It settled back instantly, curling up again. Its tail remained in his hands. 

He picked up the first pin. 

It must have assumed at first that he was just playing like he had been, – at least, it didn’t seem to tense up too much, nor expect the sharp pain when he released the spring around its tail. It shuddered, head whipping up, staring at him once again. He smiled. Picked up the second clothespin. 

It tried to get its tail free – oh, it tried as much as it could without hurting him, but he tightened the grasp and played with the pins as it couldn’t help a new whimper, and hushed it and urged it to sit still. “That’s for you to remember the lesson better,” he told it pleasantly. It must have cried, body shaking again, and tried to kick just once, the movement stopped halfway through by a short chain. 

Lord Teelo wondered how many pins would be good for it – should he go with the whole set the guard had brought? He settled on five, at the end, a nice even number not even halfway through what he had. He was feeling rather merciful and forgiving, and it sounded just so pathetic. 

He called the guard in to urge it into the cage when it was done. It didn’t even try fighting, following the man's tagging and pushing until it was inside, drawing its limbs close and curling up to fully fit. Nearly immediately, its fingers itched towards the pins, human-like thumbs ready to work on the problem. Lord Teelo snapped his fingers to get its attention.

“No,” he said, words dripping with finality. He reached through the bars and tagged its tail outside. “The clothespins stay here for the night,” he told it. It probably didn’t understand – there was so little thought in its eyes. He let go of it hoped for its sake it understood what he meant. He didn’t want to have to punish it so soon for their lack of common language. 

When he went to sleep, the shaky breaths and the rare clanging when it tried to settle more comfortable sounded like a lullaby to his ears.

In the morning, his arm stung mercilessly and unendingly, and no melodies of birds and gentle sunrays could make his mood better. He turned lazily, letting his eyes fall onto the cage. The creature was curled inside of it, eyes shut tight and ears flickering restlessly. Its tail fluttered too, freed at some point from the pins, one of its hands curling around it protectively. 

Lord Teelo felt stuck between endearment and irritation. He moved and the cuts on his arm ached, and irritation won. 

“Hey… you,” he called and realized he hadn’t come up with a name. He should think about it as some point, he decided grimly, and banished the thought of the last pet he’d named, back in childhood. That was a just a cat, a stupid spoilt creature with too much attitude. The lord remembered the way it looked, painted red and unmoving, after crossing one too many lines. 

The creature didn’t move at his call, either. He picked up an extinguished candle from his bedside table and threw it towards the cage. “Hey!” 

There was no reaction. With an undignified groan, he forced himself on his feet and towards the cage. He rattled the key across the bars, the way that always seemed to get the creature’s attention.

It didn’t react. It was outright ignoring him! 

Had it learned nothing?!

He reached through the bars and tagged on its tail, finally getting some response in return – it flinched weakly and grimaced. Slowly, its eyes fluttered open, but didn’t settle on the lord. They looked as if through him, unfocused and dizzy, and a pang of worry cut through the just rage when they closed back and its chest heaved, struggling for breath. 

Something was wrong.

He reached through the bars and towards its forehead, forgetting for a second it wasn’t a human. The skin under his fingers was blasting hot and sickly wet. It moved closer to his fingers, all but nuzzling against him. 

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is) (unless something goes wrong and it takes me too weeks to get myself to write something. I'm so very sorry about the delay!)

@isikedmyself878, @fraugustends, @otterfrost, @fuchstastisch, @3-2-whump,

@the-lone-youth, @will-o-the-wips, @catnykit, @granny-aaravos, @mj-or-say10

Tell me to be tagged in the new parts!

[hallowcryptidstudio]

This baby? Her name? BRICK! 

God that's good XD

I was lucky enough to get to draw this burd twice!

The first one being when she was just a skrunkly lill baby and the second is after her glow up!

LOOK AT HER!

Brick here belongs to @xxcobaltkillerxx and these commissions were a birthday gift! 

SO HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

[whoblewboobear]

Rmr when Brennan tried to give Gilear the nickname Gil at the table and every time he’d say it one of the intrepid heroes would go “…Gilear-?” That’s me calling Porter ‘Port’ even though it’ll never happen.

[voiider]

i just need Damian sitting on a couch and shoving his cold clammy feet with his nasty-ass toenails under his brother's bare legs. And Tim refusing to share a bed with Damian because he "rapid kicks" in the middle of the night. him shoving his frozen hands up Dick's shirt. just younger sibling things

[knightofleo]

[isame-allen]

Wh. When you. Have a chance. would you consider drawing Ms. Scene Dream with her big ass battle axe and her original version’s wings. just being silly

I’ve always been a little bit gay for DS Dream but oh my god. you hit like 5 bullseyes with that. stronk lady pretty lady with a huge badass weapon using it easily (rustiness aside).

I’m not okay (joke) (head is just full of gay thoughts)

B big woman with axe

[kanerallels]

I just think more people should appreciate Mosey, that's all

[ssaalexblake]

i love tv shows or movies where people Cannot Catch That Mouse (or other rodent) and end up doing wacky things to try and catch it bc it reminds me of when i was really little and my sister pet sat a pair of gerbils for one of her friends, and they both escaped (read: she took them out and didn't pay attention to them and Gerbils are Fast) and all the furniture in the living room ended up in a big pile in the middle of the room while 3 people chased 2 gerbils round and round in circles around the new furniture roundabout.

My sister also didn't pay enough attention to my hamster when she got it out once and lost it then, too. Took over a week to recapture her. And this animal was evil, you did not want it loose in your house.

But anyway. Gerbil memory funny.

[aweisz]

monolingual people really don't know how to write multilingual people do they

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

light/moderate spoilers for 3-MS but do you think jenny would have Done That if she and jeremy weren't on camera? because personally i don't

[raytm]

[helpimstuckposting]

I hadnt seen any of the playthroughs for security breach so I started watching them today and there’s gotta be something psychologically wrong with how emotionally attached to glamrock freddie I am