#this was a case of ‘this animal is so rare and so little is known abt it that indigenous people predict it sounds like these other birds so

[badolmen]

Cultural/indigenous knowledge and scientific documentation are complimentary, not antagonistic, approaches to conservation.

[a-spes]

T H E D O G ' S F A L L - One shot.

Words count - 5,2k.

Tags & Warnings - mob boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, angst, harm/comfort, manipulation, mentions of blood/past abuses, human trafficking.

Summary - Anyone that can beat her in a fight will earn her, and Natasha intends to be the one, working hard to get what she thinks is hers. A dog can't fight for eternity, can it?

Moodboard here.

N/A - It's the longest os I've wrote so far, took me a lot of time but it's enventually here so I really hope you'll enjoy it! If it's the case, don't hesitate to let me know by interacting with the post :)

It is at the back of that popular night club that everything is happening, where no one can see your distress except the one that enjoys it, where everyone is too busy having fun to pay attention to the veritable purpose of this building. On a dark corner that light never reaches, a man is guarding the most important secret of that place, and very few are the people he lets through; only rich and influential men and women get their ticket for this special spectacle that takes place here every night.

Down there, the loud music is replaced by the shouts of excited men that makes her sigh; why do they have to scream like animals? If she gets a few glances, no one dares to say anything as the infamous Black Widow is walking through the crowd to get to her place. She has blood on her back, people are whispering, some from admiration, others from fear, but no one stays indifferent - how could they? One of the most important mafia bosses of the city, but also one of the most discreet, is here. She has her reputation and, even if she is rarely seen, she is well-known, so none of the men dares to protest when she decides to take place in their lodge, chasing them out of the room. 

From here, she has a perfect view of the cage and, most importantly, of the Dog.

It is obvious that there is no way out of the ring, that you are trapped in that cage until one of these men’s victory - or your last breath - but, somehow, you still believe that defeating them will lead you out of that basement. So, not caring about how many of them are daring to step in your cage, you beat them, one by one. You watch the man you just defeated being escorted out of the cage so the next one could take his place - it gives you a few seconds to catch your breath. 

The world is spinning, you can’t even see the faces of your opponents, but you don’t give up. Even if the only thing you want is to curl up in the corner, crying for your mom, you can’t. You can’t because it will mean giving them your life. No, you need to be stronger than them, to pretend that you don’t feel the pain inflicted by their blows, to pretend that you are not bothered by the metallic taste of the blood in your mouth, they need to believe you could do that all night. But you are not foolish and you know damn well that you won’t last long. 

It is hard to focus on anything, even on breathing, because you are overwhelmed by a crew you can't even see, blinded by the lights; you are the spectacle. They all came to see the Dog fighting, hoping to witness its fall. They are shouting, mostly insults in Russian, whistling and clapping everytime something exciting is happening during a fight, but it won’t be enough to save you from that place. 

Oh, at first, they were cheering for you, but it slowly changed, people getting tired of seeing your pretty face every night. They thought you would be easy to break and hated to be proven wrong, and you perfectly know that the stakes have changed. It is no longer about giving them what they want, entertainment, it is purely about surviving and you noticed how the attitude of your opponents changed over the weeks, becoming more aggressive.

You were a champion, now you are just a little bitch they need to get rid of. 

The organization that threw you in that rat hole understood that as much as you did and, tonight, they changed the rules. Tonight, it'll be only you against the world, until they are tired of it. No break, no help, everytime one leaves, the next one is already stepping in the ring, as an endless torture. 

Tonight, she will be one of them. She has been looking at you hungrily since the first time she came here, and she knows that you will be hers by the end of the night, after all she came just for that, to take you home.

Even if she is here every night, you never had a chance to notice the woman. She was always sitting in the last row, observing you from her balcony, where she is hidden by the shadow, but she noticed you for sure. The time she came, it was only because of one of her associates that wanted to meet here specifically, she never left since. From the moment her eyes landed on you, she was unable to think about anything else, the way you were looking so innocent but so feroce at the same time got her heart. 

She sent a few of her best men, knowing they would lose, as a test, waiting for the moment it would be her turn to enter the cage. She never expected them to win and she would have killed them if they had the audacity to: she is the one that is supposed to defeat you, the only one that has the right to own you. The urge to possess you only grew stronger over the weeks, being deeper every time she came here, she wants to see you as you are breaking under her effect, to control every aspect of your life. 

So she patiently waited for the right time to come, she always liked a bit of challenge anyway, having a soft spot for things that are hard to get. She worked hard to get you, spending weeks observing every of your movements: she learned how you are fighting and your habits, she learned to read your body and face as if she was on your mind, and that’s the difference with the others: if you are a game for them, for her, you are a goal she must reach at all costs. 

As soon as your eyes laid on her, you knew she wouldn’t back up, somehing in the way she stepped in the cage already made all the difference. It is her confidence. It is the smirk on her face, a cocky one. It is the way her hands are stuck in her pockets while she is observing you. It is the slight sigh as she gets rid of her leather jacket. It is all these details that give the impression that she is just here to settle a formality, already certain of her victory.

Even the way she is moving has something unrealist. Every step, every look, is calculated and almost imperceptible. Usually, you would step forward, ready to fight even before they entered the cage to show them you are not afraid, but this time? You can’t help but instinctively step back when she enters. The movement was slight, as you were already leaning the grid but she noticed it, the way her aura is pressuring you, and she loves it.

As soon as the door was closed, your fate was sealed.

It all happened really fast because she knew exactly what to do, she prepared for that moment. You quickly realized that you were right: the woman had nothing in common with the men you were fighting against earlier, you never stood a chance to win that fight. The realization is more painful than the blows she is currently throwing at you. Every punch you try to land, she knows exactly how to dodge it. As if she was on your mind, she knows exactly where to hit to get you weak, stealing your breath and your strenght, having you on your knees then laying on the floor in less than a few minutes. 

At first, you tried to get up, to fight, but she is faster than you are, and wiser, and stronger, and more trained. She is being pretty much better in everything. Soon your vision is so blurry that you can’t see anything, you are feeling so weak that even moving your fingers or keeping your eyes open is just too much. 

"Stay still,” she quietly ordered when she noticed you were struggling against her grip - she had you pinned down on the ground by pressing her foot on your back and grabbed your hair to lift a bit your head. "You're going to be mine no matter what, so don't make things harder for yourself, honey." 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

You hear the countdown but, this time, it is not your victory that is announced, it is hers. As soon as her name is shouted by the crew, her grip releases your hair but you simply don't have the strength to move, the news leaves a void in your chest. The pain, but mostly this feeling of emptiness, is keeping you frozen in place. She owns you, and this simple idea is sending shivers through your whole body. You don't realize yet what is happening, thinking that, maybe, it is just a cruel joke on you, and it explains the lack of reaction when she asks you to get up; she needs to grab your arm and lift to get you on your feet. 

You stumble, fighting the urge to vomit. Your brain can barely process what is happening, especially when you realize that your feet are not touching the ground anymore. In her arms, you are nothing more than a rag doll, silent and motionless, barely having the energy to keep your eyes open. 

"She is not for sale,” she coldly said, her voice bringing you back to reality. As she was on her way to get out of the night club, some men were offering the woman outrageous amounts of money in the hope of getting you, they all backed up once she coldly glanced at them. "No one will ever take you away from me, do you hear that, love? You are safe as long as you’re with me," she then whispered in your ears. 

You drift into unconsciousness as soon as the car starts, despite the woman that kept begging you to keep your eyes open, the way she was cadling you not helping. You just had enough time to notice the men sitting at the front of the black van, both armed and intimidating, before falling into darkness. 

You opened your eyes again when the car stopped in an alley. It is late, the sun gave its throne to the moon a long time ago and, even if you can't tell what time it is, you know it is the middle of the night. How many hours did you spend down there, fighting for your life? The question makes you sick because the only answer is too many. All these hours for nothing because, no matter how hard you triee, you loose. You were never supposed to win their twisted game, you never got a chance and you slowly realize that the promised freedom was just a lure. For weeks you believed them, you played along their rules, thinking it was the only way to get your life back.

And here you are, in the arms of your new owner, a woman you know nothing about but that now has every rights on you, even if you will live depends exclusively on the redhead's choices. The fear twists your stomach, the humiliation clenches your throat and the exhaustion makes your eyes burning, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you repeat in your head, but you don't know for how long you will be able to keep your tears for yourself.  

The woman is not looking at you at all, she is concentrating on not falling as she is walking to the house, barely seeing where her feet are landing. You, however, can't help but observe every detail of her face, noticing how serious her expression is. You are trying to guess how your life is going to be by her side, but you can't, she is a complete mystery and you hate that.

A part of you wants to go back in that basement. It may have been a living hell, but you had your habits, you knew how to survive, now you will have to learn everything again. 

You notice that two armed persons are guarding the front door and, when you pass by them, they exchange a few words in Russian. You can't understand a word of what they are saying, but you guess they are greeting the woman, beside some insults, you don't know a lot and only because that's how they used to call you.

The inside of the penthouse is exactly as you imagined it: expensive, tidy and minimalist. You never felt comfortable in that kind of environment, it always reminded you that you will never have a place in that sphere, you are nothing more than their animal, a dog that does everything they want. 

Once inside, you almost expected her to drop you on the floor but she didn't. Her grip is strong, as if she doesn't want to let you go, that's because she is scared too. She exchanged a few words in Russian with a woman before heading upstairs. 

Your eyes closed because of the light, you don't see much more of the house, nor of where you are going. You can feel that she climbs the stairs, takes a few turns and walks through a door before she eventually lets you go. It is with care that she sits you on the floor of the bathroom. 

"Here we are," she whispered, "you can open your eyes, love," she added when she noticed they were still closed. If you can't see her smile, you can feel her hand brushing your cheek. 

For weeks you didn't see anything else than pitch darkness and the dimmed light of the basement where you were fighting, it is great to eventually be able to see something else. She even made sure to not turn the big light on, only a small one in the corner that diffuses a subdued light. Somehow, she knows exactly what to do to make you feel comfortable. 

"Let me help you," she said, coming closer to kneel in front of you when she realized you couldn't take your bath alone.

On the way home, she sent a message for one of her maids to run a bath for you to enjoy when you arrived. The mirrors fog up and a scent of jasmine fills the room, but even if the idea of taking a bath sounds good, you don't move. You are curled at the exact place she left you in, your knees against your chest.

You are like a dog, but nothing like a fighting one, she thought when she saw how you tried to back up when she reached for your shirt.

"I am not going to do anything," she quietly said, trying to sooth you by using a gentle tone and caressing your cheek with her thumb. "I am going to help you to get rid of those rags so you can get a bath, okay? Then, we can clean your wounds and have a good meal, does this sound good?" she asked and you slowly nodded. 

She helps you to get rid of your clothes that are closer to rags honestly as they have holes in them, the fabric being soaked in dirt, blood and sweat, sticking to your skin. You never felt so vulnerable than right now, under her serious gaze, what is she thinking about? It is impossible to guess but you can feel her eyes on your body as she looks you up and down. A quick glance which allows her to take a mental note about all your injuries.

"What are you doing?" she chuckled, when her eyes didn’t land on your chest but on your crossed arms - you were trying to hide, how cute. "How silly you are,” she whispered when noticing you didn't seem to understand what she was talking about, "thinking you can hide like that."

Her tone sounded too sweet for it to genuinely be and there is something behind her gentle tone that is rigging alarms in your head. You can't tell what it is exactly, but there is that weird feeling, your instinct screaming at you to be careful when your body just wants to give up and be in her arms, ‘cause what could go wrong?

She takes your hands to pull them away from your chest so you can’t hide from her anymore. Her grip is firm, just a little too strong so you understand that, despite her sweet smile, she won't hesitate to be harsh with you if you don’t behave. However, she still seems to be extra careful while moving you, as if you were a porcelain doll, because for nothing in the world she would hurt her fragile princess. She  slowly takes your arms away so she can give a glance at all your injuries. What she sees makes her sigh, she seems about to say something but keeps her words for herself ; you should have been more careful. 

She helped you to get in the bath and it was a nice moment, a few minutes you got for yourself because, surprisingly, she let you bathe yourself alone. Oh, she wasn’t far away, just at the other end of the room, keeping a close eye on you at every time, but dealing with something on her phone. She would occasionally comment on the way you were doing things, talking you throught it so you can shower the proper way, her way. Once you are done, she wraps you on a soft towel, bandages your wounds and gives you clothes that are hers, a hoodie and a short, and you can’t help but notice how good they are smelling, how comfortable you are feeling in these.

"Did you say something?" she genuinely asked, turning to you because she was sure she heard you mumbling a few words. 

She was talking about your life here, talking almost alone as you weren’t really talkative, but thinking she would miss the words you whisepered was a mistake because she never misses anything.

"Nothing important," you replied, but this answer doesn't seem to please the woman, something twitching in her eyes, coming from soft to sharp.

"When I ask you a question, you reply to it, am I clear?” she said, immediately leaving what she was doing to come close to you and grab your chin.  “You are not the one that gets to decide what’s important, your small brain can't handle big decisions and that's why I am here. I mean, see how it got you to be by yourself …" she continued, looking at you with disdain, as if she was thinking that it is only your fault if you ended up in that rat hole, caught in human trafficking. “I am here to give you a second chance and you better take it ‘cause it may be the last… so don't talk to me like that ever again, did I make myself clear enough?"

The only answer you are able to give her is a whining accompanied by a sniffle and she obviously doesn’t like that. Even if you tried your hardest to not let those tears rolling down your cheeks, you can’t help it, her harsh words only making things worse because you are already hating to disapoint the woman. 

"If I knew you would cry, I would've sold you ..", she sighed in annoyance, her nails digging into your skin, "I hate cry-babies, understand?" she asked, but it wasn’t not a question: it was a warning. "The fighter I saw in that ring must be here when I am back," she coldly added before releasing the pressure she was exerting on your face.

She leaves, slamming the door shut so you easily understand that she is upset with you reacting that way. She has done everything she could in order to help you to be comfortable here : she gave you a bath and clothes, cleaned your wounds, promised you a meal and a bed, even gave you comfort but it still doesn't seem to be enough because you were crying as if she was some sort of monster, and she can't bear that vision. She tried to repeat to herself that you are just tired, that things are going to get better with time but it doesn’t calm her down. Whether you want it or not, she will make sure that, one way or another, you will accept her and she won't hesitate to use the hard way if she has to. 

When she comes back, she notices that didn't move an inch, scared by what the woman could say and impressed by the bedroom. But it didn’t prevent your eyes from wandering around the room. It is really minimalist, there is nothing that could give you a hint about the person she is, everything is exactly where it should be, not a speck of dust and no personal objects. It feels like a hotel room more than hers.

When you hear the door, your gaze settles on the woman. Your knees are bent against your chest as if it could protect you from all the dangers of the world. She probably left you for only five minutes, but they felt like hours. Your thoughts had time to run while waiting for her : what about trying to escape? But it never worked, it’s always a dead end, a path to regrets because they always find you, making sure you won’t even think about doing it again and, if they do not find you, it's someone else. You learned that there is no escape and gave up on going back to your old life a long time ago. It is not even the fear of the armed men that is keeping you here, it's the void in you when you think about what you would do if you were free again, nothing. Nothing because you forgot how to live on your own. So you didn't move, not even a finger because she didn't ask you to do it, only being a dog that lives for its masters' will.

But what piques your curiosity is more the tray in her hands than anything else. As soon as she enters the room, closing the door behind her with her foot, a pleasant smell spreads through the room. You can see many things on the tray she brought back : a glass of water, some pills, a bowl of steaming soup with bread and a plate with rice, vegetables and chicken. When was the last time you ate a real meal? Long enough for you to not remember what it was.

"Eat." she said as she put the tray on your knees.

It smells good. That's the first thought that crossed your mind when you saw the plate. For a moment, you forget about the past hours; when was the last time you got a real meal? You can't remember, not even a fragment of a memory. 

You would eat what your owners give you, eat quickly before they come back, never knowing what you are eating nor when the next meal would be; you learned to not ask too many questions. At first, it was difficult to accept such a fate: you would refuse to even taste the food they were giving to you, but it didn't last long. Eventually, you started to eat - inhale - anything you were given without thinking twice about it.

Tonight, for the first time in years, you are going to eat something else than the leftovers of someone you don't even know. Tonight, you won't have to be scared about your food being stolen. Tonight, you can even see the smoke, a sign that your meal is still hot, freshly cooked and maybe homemade.

"I-," you started, but she didn't let you finish your sentence, your lips barely had time to move that she already cut you, leaving no place for an argument.

I am not hungry, you were about to say, and she somehow knew it. She also knew it was a lie, your stomach has been painfully twisted because of that sick feeling for days, but the knot is also caused by your fears. 

It all feels a bit too perfect. It feels like a trap, a way to encourage you to let your guard down only to break you after, making the fall harder. Some did that in the past, why not her? She doesn't look less cruel than the others. Yet, when she is talking, she seems more genuine, you could believe her when she says she only wants what's best for you, that she cares, she just has a twisted way to show it. 

"Yes, you are, so eat, now," she ordered you with such a cold tone that you don't dare to argue. There are all these warnings she doesn't say out loud but you can read in her eyes: just do whatever I tell you, pretty girl, they say. 

And, for sure, you don't want to face the consequences of your insubordination. So you slowly take the fork, not glancing away for one second, your eyes into hers. You are looking at every detail of her expression as if it would change, telling you that it is a trap, except it doesn't and her expression stays stern. It is impossible to read anything on her face, not even a hint of how she is feeling.

You take the first bit, carefully swallowing and… nothing happens. You don't feel weird, it doesn't taste bad and she doesn't snap at you for a small imaginary mistake you would have made. It is the complete opposite. The food is really good, melting on your tongue, and you start to eat quickly, not because you have to, but because you want to. For the first time in years, eating is a pleasure. 

She sighed when she noticed that you were inhaling your food, but she didn't say anything; she will have all the time later to change that habit of you. So she just stood there for a few seconds, observing you in silence, with her arms crossed, before sitting next to you - that's when you broke eye contact, once she was sure you would eat everything. 

As you are eating, she is barely paying attention to you, at least that's the impression she is giving. One of her arms wrapped around your shoulder, her hand is absently drawing circles on your skin while she is on her phone, dealing with something serious - you can hear her frustrated sighs from time to time.

Except she sees everything and your mistake was to not be careful enough around the woman. A little because of your clumsiness, mainly because of how fast you were eating, you dropped a bit of your food on the floor. You didn't think it was a big deal, picking it up to put it back on the plate. Three seconds rules, dropped on a clean floor, you don't have very high standards anyway - but she does. She turned to you the moment she felt you were moving, a curious, but disgusted, look on her face.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her hand grabbing your wrist before you could drop the bit of food on your plate. She moves your hand on the side of the tray, far from your plate, before you even get a chance to reply. "Drop it," she ordered to you, "that's gross, hope you weren't going to eat that." 

You shake your head, too scared to do anything else, but she knows you are lying; of course you were about to eat it. You spent the past years living like a fighting dog, you would eat anything she would give you, you might even eat directly from the dirty floor if she asked you to. She winces in disgust, not letting your hand go.

"Give me that," she snarled and you can feel how her grip tightened on your wrist to force you to give the fork away.

She then takes the tray that was in front of you to put it on her side of the bed, you are looking at her, scared she would definitely take your meal away. You are about to protest when she notices it and glances at you, daring you to say a word, you don't. 

"Come here," she said, gesturing you to come closer, she even grabbed your arm to guide you when she noticed you were hesitant to move.

She sits you between her legs and you are clearly uncomfortable, wiggling, but if she notices it, she doesn't seem to care. She is so close to you that you can feel her breath tickling your skin, but she keeps acting like nothing is weird here. When she leans to cut your food, you can feel her chest pressing against your back, the contact making your heart races. Too focused on how close you are to the woman, you barely noticed when she approached the fork from your mouth, waiting for you to open. It takes one more second for you to understand what she is waiting for and, when you do, you blush in embarrassment. She takes advantage of you opening your mouth to say something to feed you, and you don't dare to push her away. 

"Can't even eat alone, hm?" she whispered in your ear while you were chewing the bit of food she just gave you, "but that's fine, I am here now," she added, and there is something in her tone that makes you shiver.

Once she made sure you ate everything, she wrapped her arms around you, laying a kiss on your temple. It is strange how safe you are feeling in her embrace: for a few seconds you forget she is the one that beat you earlier. Right now, she is just someone that cares for you, with whom you feel at peace. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel that way, you can barely remember your life before entering the human trafficking circuit.

You don’t really know when you fell asleep, but your eyes were quick to close under the effects of her fingers running on your hair and of her voice whispering sweet words in your ears. At some point, a maid came to take the empty tray away and the woman layed the both of you in the bed, under the covers, trying her best to not wake you up. This night, you slept in a comfy bed, feeling protected in the arms of the woman despite the things she did, not even thinking one second about pushing away her hands that found their way under your sweatshirt, resting on your stomach. 

The Dog fell right into the Black Widow’s web.

[eggy-tea]

the thing that is SO WILD to me watching usamericans on the internet talk about their upcoming elections is that this is one of those incredibly rare occasions where you are choosing between two guys who have ALREADY DONE THE JOB.

look, i’m canadian. we have a first past the post parliamentary system and i don’t even get to vote directly for the person who will lead the country because i don’t live in any of the leaders’ ridings. i don’t live in any of the big important cities or even the big important provinces. i know ALL ABOUT “it feels like my vote doesn’t matter.” and all the same, i’m incredibly worried that a lot of people will vote conservative because they don’t like trudeau (fair! he sucks!) and hey, who knows, poilievre might be better. let’s give him a chance. time for a change etc. etc. (and of course there are a bunch of people who want what he’s selling and that’s depressing as hell too but they’re not the swing voters who will make a difference here.) never mind that the dude seems very happy to cozy up to our own local fascists. we don’t know for a fact what he’ll be like as pm, because he hasn’t been pm yet, and we DO know what trudeau is like, and we don’t like him.

the argument for change because it might be good is very compelling to our little animal brains when the status quo is BAD. poilievre is even banking on this! he’s been keeping his promises and stances deliberately vague so people can fill in the blanks with whatever they hope will happen.

and what’s so absolutely mind-breakingly incomprehensible to me is that THIS IS NOT THE CASE IN THE US but so many americans KEEP TALKING LIKE IT IS. each of these dudes has already done the job. they are known quantities. and you (realistically) only get to choose between the two of them. the political machine is going to go through with all of the usual debates and campaigning and thinkpieces and op-eds and rallies and whatever else pageantry, but biden and trump have told you who they are. they’ve SHOWN you who they are. it’s not often you get such a clear-cut choice with so much solid information behind it. you either vote for one of them and live with your choice or you hide your head in the sand and pretend that if you don’t vote one of them won’t win. and then you live with your cowardice because when the time came to choose you couldn’t bear to look.

(which is guess is also why so much effort is going into convincing people to just fucking vote oh my god i get it if you can’t because so many people have been deliberately disenfranchised in the us but if you can and you just don’t so help me…)

[valiantstarlights]

Ahhhh so many good options!! Can I ask for Fostering Abused Omegas? Thanks 💕

@embroiderling

Of course! 🥰

CW: human trafficking, abuse, depression

So, okay, in this AU, omegas are very rare. Like maybe 10% of the population. Because of this, they are treated differently. In some countries, they're treated like treasures. In some, they're treated like animals. Most countries treat them normally.

The Endless are from Greece, which treats their omegas like they're gifts from the gods. Unfortunately, Dream is kidnapped by Burgess, who wants a pet omega of his own. (Burgess also does a little omega trafficking on the side to line his pockets.)

Dream and the other omegas in Fawney Rig are rescued a couple of years later. Most of the omegas are sent back home, but Dream refuses to go back. The truth comes out that we was sold by his parents, actually, and not kidnapped. Burgess relished telling him about it, and showing him the contract his parents signed. (Dream was sold a day before his 18th birthday, making the contract 'legal.')

So he is assigned to a carer: Hob.

Hob is a beta who has been 'fostering' omegas for close to 10 years now. He's like, the go-to person for difficult cases. Dream comes to him battered and bruised, bone-thin and wary of everything. He seems to have accepted that he's going to die soon. But of course, Hob isn't having it.

--

"Why do you waste your time caring for me?" Dream asks. He sounds so tired, like it takes all of his energy to even speak. He leans his head against the window pane, passively staring at the sunset sky outside. "I am going to die. That is a certainty."

"Well," Hob says, as lightly as he could. "I'm known for being very stubborn."

Dream sighs. His breath fogs the glass for a moment, but he makes no move to wipe it, or to look away from the clouds. "You will not succeed with me." And it's the way he says it, not sad or challenging, but like he was stating a fact, that had Hob discreetly hold the tray filled with food tighter, his anger for Burgess a bright beacon on a dark night. "It's better for you to devote your time caring for someone else."

"My time," Hob says, voice gentle and even only through great difficulty. He is reminded of every omega he cared for before. They always come to him hopeless and lost, wondering why they're still alive and struggling to find a purpose to live. Hob should be used to it, but he's not. It hurts him every time. "My choice to make."

--

Ask about my WIPs

[kai-ninjago]

Tornado Wranglers headcanons!

Every member of the Tornado Wranglers has gotten a tattoo done by Lily before, most of them drunkenly

Tyler and Boone have known each other since they were in highschool :) they weren’t extremely close until a few years later, but they would sit together at lunch

Boone has a pet snake! Its name is Jaeger

Dexter doesn’t go chasing quite as often as the rest of them because of his age— he has a bad back, and also likes to spend time at home with his wife

Dexter has four children, all of which are grown up and live out of state. They’ve all met the rest of the Wranglers at least once, though

Lily and Dani are dating and live together

Boone dropped out of highschool his senior year, but he doesn’t like to talk about it so no one (except Tyler) really knows why

Dexter used to do work as a volunteer firefighter when he was younger. His longtime career ended up being as a university professor later on

Dexter’s wife loves to cook for the Wranglers and have them over at their house— they’re around the same age as her and Dexter’s children, so it’s nice to have them around now that the kids are all moved out

Dani loves animals! When they’re not on a chase, she likes to volunteer at the local shelter, or foster cats and dogs

Lily and Dani share clothes a lot, especially when they’re on the road

I’ve seen this mentioned in plenty of fics, so it’s hardly my idea— but I wholeheartedly agree that Tyler’s accent comes out more when he’s drunk

Boone is the type to keep clothes until they’re literally falling apart— the majority of his wardrobe is 10+ years old, and very well worn

The group drinks together a lot, but Dexter rarely joins in— he likes to keep a clear head in case something bad happens, so he can take care of everyone

Coming back to Boone’s snake, Dexter absolutely refuses to go to Boone’s house because he’s terrified of snakes

Lily loves to draw! She’s the one who designed the “not my first tornadeo” shirts— it was meant as a joke, but Tyler loved them

Boone sleeps very little, and even less when they’re on the road. He gets nightmares often, so he likes to stay up as late as possible, only going to sleep when absolutely necessary.

The others are aware of this, and do their best to help him out wherever necessary

Tyler loves his truck so much, as soon as it gets damaged he finds a way to repair it

(Canon) Boone loves sweet things, especially chocolate! Tyler doesn’t like him eating in the truck though, because he’s messy

Lily often forgets to eat and drink when they’re traveling, leading to her getting exhausted and dehydrated. To combat this, Tyler makes a point of stopping and sitting down as a group to have three solid meals a day, even if they’re picnicking in the middle of nowhere

Boone likes to give everyone nicknames— T, Dex, Dans, and Lee

Tyler and Ben keep in contact after Ben goes home! They become close online friends, with Ben frequently tuning in to the streams. Later on, he makes a habit of visiting Arkansas to see the Wranglers at least once a year!

Boone is very affectionate with all of the wranglers, giving them hugs and even kisses all the time

Dani plays the guitar really well. She doesn’t bring one with her when they travel, but if she can get her hands on one, she likes to play and sing for her friends around the fire

Lily and Dani are short for Lillian and Daniela ^_^

If they’re ever traveling for a long time, like over a month, Tyler will have Dani cut his hair for him

Lily has a big family, and keeps in touch with all of her siblings. She calls them often to make sure they’re alright during storms, and most of the Wranglers know them well by now

Boone has a hard time reading, but he loves to listen to audiobooks while they’re on long drives! His favorite are sci-fi stories books like The Martian and Dune

Tyler loves to dance. He can sometimes convince the crew to go out line dancing with him, but most of them usually have to be at least a little bit tipsy to even consider it

Lily and Boone are best friends; they have very similar personalities and can easily match each others energy

The tattoo that Boone was referring to in that deleted scene where he’s talking to Ben is a tramp stamp that says “giddy-up cowboy”

Tyler loves to cook! At home he has a grill where he makes brisket and ribs to share with everyone ^_^

That’s all :P

[kandyshoppe]

So! I’m going to school to (hopefully) become a farm vet, and I also enjoy those hybrid Aus, SO! Farm Hybrid Au! (Or just farm au!)

Riddle: a rooster, specifically a red cornish. Cornish are known to be a bit aggressive, and finicky. I think he would have been a neglected chick and didn’t get to the full size, instead staying kinda small instead of becoming big like other Cornish.

Trey: Highlander cow, soft, sweet babys! They’re just happy to be here, and are stocky tough cattle. Their coats are double coated, so they can get matted but it’s rare with a proper diet and care.

Cater: a part indoor part outdoor cat, a beautiful orange tabby mix, who goes through moods of cuddle monster and hates everyone. Never a hiss from him, but a grumpy huff and he trots away.

Deuce: mastiff, a guard/live stock guardian dog breed. Big, aggressive to strangers, but love bugs once they get to know you. Specifically a Pyrenean mastiff, they’re polish, and suited for cold weather best.

Ace: definitely a Nubian goat, head strong, rebellious, LOUD, but they’re not aggressive! They’re actually very friendly, to their detriment since they will try to befriend predators!

Leona: farm cat, probably a Maine coon mix, cause he’s so big and fluffy! Maine coons are also very “dog like” and can learn tricks, to play fetch etc. They also tend to have a resting mad face, which Leona seems to have sometimes!

Ruggie: a stray dog that helps hunt vermin on the farm. I feel he wondered up once, and made sure to avoid the live stock (and their guard dogs) and got some rats or something. He doesn’t live on the farm by nearby in the woods with his pack of strays (including granny!)

Jack: another guard dog! Anatolian Shepard, a middle eastern breed suited for colder climates, and lovingly called “nanny dogs” and they will happily let goats jump on them. They’re a bit dominant, preferring to do their own thing vs what others say though.

Azul: cull duck! They’re a bit noisy, enjoying the sound of their own voice. They’re the white ones most people think of for ducks, small and fairly friendly but they do enjoy nibbling to show affection…

Jade: runner duck! They can’t fly, but enjoy scrabbling among rocks to find grubs, or in Jade’s case, mushrooms! They don’t waddle either! They run! They’re not as friendly as other duck breeds, being stand off-ish sometimes.

Floyd: just like his brother, a runner duck. He lives up to the runner in his name! Prances around, and enjoys tormenting the other animals on the farm. Someone stop him! Sneaks up on others and nips their feet. Has been kicked before, it didn’t stop him.

Kalim: brown Swiss, in the top three cattle breeds! They’re known for being fairly docile, calm and friendly. They’re very affectionate, and can get upset when not given affection from their handlers! This boy is BEGGING for ear scritches!

Jamil: Brahman bull, he can get aggressive much easier than Kalim. He’s also a very intelligent boy, as his breed usually is. But they’re also known to be shy, preferring to be alone or with a specific quiet few vs a large herd! Brahmans also are sensitive to the cold, so his hoodie is a need!

Vil: a jersey cow (my favorite!) they’re so pretty, but also the divas of milking cows. But it’s worth it for their thick, buttery and fatty milk! They’re also very curious, choosing to follow new comers vs hiding. They’re very social, but sassy things!

Rook: a trained hawk! (I’ve never seen a trained hawk around chickens but he is!) he was found as a baby and ended up bonding with the farmer I bet, so now he protects the others from birds, and more sneaky attacks! He enjoys sitting with Vil, a strange pair but it works.

Epel: a Southdown sheep, also known as “baby dolls” cause they’re so little and cute! He’s still a ram though, and hates being called cute! Head butts at will! Is mad that Vil has chosen him as their “calf” and follows him around, keeping him out of trouble. Vil’s no fun.

Idia: a British soay sheep, but he’s got a genetic mutation that makes him a deep blue instead of a dark brown. British soay are shy and flighty, they’re timid even among sheep breeds! Idia probably struggles with joining herds because of his color, which makes him more nervous about predators!

Ortho: à shetland sheep, another smaller breed, but quite friendly and inquisitive (which is rare among sheep, I’m sorry they’re dumb) Don’t let his size fool you though! Shetlands are one of the hardiest breeds out there! Small but mighty!

Malleus: a big black shire horse, now I don’t know as much about horses, but shires are docile and friendly draft horses! I bet cause of his size though, many of the other farm animals avoid him cause he’s scary. Shires are sometimes used for riding, and I bet he REALLY enjoys riding!

Lilia: a fell pony! They’re one of the smartest ponies, and while they can be finicky at times because of their intelligence, they are sweet ponies. He’s too intelligent for his own good I bet, enjoying to open the gates and wander out, but doesn’t close it and now EVERYONE is out and about!

Silver: an Icelandic horse (my brother’s favorite), they’re super sweet and hardworking sweethearts, with a beautiful grey coat! One of the friendliest horse breeds in the world, he’s just a big old love bug! Loves rolling around and laying in a nice patch of grass I bet.

Sebek: a shetland pony, but he’s one of the ones who give shetlands a bad rap. He’s nippy, and stubborn, and loves to whiney whenever he can! Likes the sound of his own voice. Is entranced with Malleus, and wants to be a big horse like him one day!

[beansidhebumbling]

The End of the World is a Love Story

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Part 1: A Most Familiar Stranger

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The end of the world started with Feyre Archeron.

And maybe in another life the stars foretold a different story, one where she was the hero. The chosen. The change.

In this world, there was only one truth.

The end of the world started with Feyre Archeron.

And she was no Saviour.

-

Her birth was unremarkable. She arrived silently amidst too much blood into a village that dealt in death, misery, and little else. A grey place, named on few maps and known to fewer people. It lay on the edge of the boglands and bred a hardy sort, who knew the pang of hunger and the taste of iron between teeth.

With a father who shucked the title and a mother who left the plane as Feyre entered it, she became a daughter of the fen.

She learned to tread softly so as not to mark the wet peat and to swim in the black sludge of bog holes where so many grown men perished. This land was her birth right and it spoke to her in kind, so that she sung the sibilance of the marsh snake before the clunky tongue of Man. The frogs she often caught, raw and wriggling, eyes crunching between her first molars, provided the lullabies of her youth.

The trees, that carried word across space and time, told of what the Village called her.

Animal.

Monster.

An Chríoch.

As was written in the Book of Man, each is born in place and station to suit their disposition and destiny.

And so was the case for Feyre Archeron.

-

All she treasured held some part of herself.

Her bow made of ash and stained with blood.

Her bracelet of baby teeth.

And Nesta, the extension of her soul.

-

Although speckles of Feyre floated in the sharp twist of her sister's smile and in the bronze braids that circled her head like a crown, Nesta was decidedly singular.

Her presence seemed too big for her slight frame, like the air around her carried the excess crackling sparks of her essence.

If the villagefolk were perturbed by Feyre's silent watchful eyes, they were downright fearful of Nesta.

She asked about it, once, while they weaved baskets at the banks of the hidden river, a common wage maker of their youth. They were sat, buried in the high grass side by side, with the fieldmice making conversation nearby, when she mumbled almost incoherently,

'Druid Osheen is scared of you. He can't look at you straight.'

'Is there a question hidden in that mess, Feyrín?'

Nestsa countered, nimble hands deftly weaving rods as a gentle breeze danced with a stray curl at her nape. She was careful with words, like they were intricate as braids or sharp as knives, wielding them expertly and with precision. Feyre treated them like poison, to be used rarely and held in one’s mouth only briefly.

She whined, shouldering her sister lightly,

'Why do you scare him?'

Nesta grinned, eyes creasing and laughed, a silvery breathy thing that dissolved almost as soon as it left her mouth.

'He thinks I'm dangerous. He's right of course,'

She said flippantly, glancing at her sister from the corner of her eye.

'I am marked by Death. He professes that those around me will surely die. But the Book of Man says that killing the Marked is insult to Death himself, so I cannot be burned on any pyre. Instead, they let us roam like wild things here and pray we don’t come close.'

In her tenth year, on the eve of Alban Arthan, young Jimmy Deenihan called her the nightwhore’s shadow. He muttered it as she passed, lacing the word with spittle and spite so it landed like a punch. Feyre’s teeth proved much more cutting than any verbal insult however. She had not heard the term since, but the memory still sat heavy around her neck, intertwined with the bones of Jimmy’s index finger.

There were no friends to be found in the Village.

Nesta dropped her half-woven basket so it sat in the dipped linen of her patched apron, and turned to Feyre. Her eyes, blown black from pupil to sclera, held the dark within them.

She was resplendent and horrifying and greater than all that had come before.

Grabbing Feyre’s hands, she squeezed them within her own and vowed, voice dropping and gaining weight from the earth and heavy air that had settled around them,

'I promise you. I swear that you are safe with me. I don't care if he gorges fat on all of them. Let him burn the world to cinders. I won't let Death take me from you.'

And Nesta who never wasted a thing looked ready to spend water on tears.

She rarely named her love for her sister, for why comment on something as natural as breathing, as vital as a heartbeat. But in that moment, she felt the need to, like a compulsion.

'I love you, Nesta.'

She whispered.

And more hid inside that undressed fact. The seeds of other words like sacrifice and revenge and desperation. Words too precious to be exposed to air.

She felt the ground swallow her prayer and all the secret prayers within.

The bog would hold them. For safe keeping.

-

Death haunted the periphery of their lives for years but left them to grow freely among the peat like wild roses. She never told Nesta of her Sight, thought it might alarm her to know that the doom she feared most was always so very near.

From time to time she saw him, in the shadows of the damned.

A handsome devil indeed.

With hair the colour of pitch and eyes like the tanzanite a wandering pedlar once sold at the market, he cut a fine figure for a demon. He even bore wings on occasion, large bat-like appendages, that carried him high into the air, to swim between the clouds. They fascinated her and she longed to run her hand along the membranes, motivated by the same desire that urged her to trace the sharp edge of a blade.

Sometimes she dreamt of flying beside him, of his hands around her waist, holding her tight to his frame as the land became a patchwork quilt below. And though the beginning differed from dream to dream, the ending was always the same- her body, cold and lifeless and alone, hurtling towards the earth.

He never seemed to notice her scrutiny though he moved ever closer with each passing season, like water circling the drain.

He became, in the compounding tragedies his presence heralded, a most familiar stranger.

-

It was the Samhain of her 26th year when they met.

She told Nesta she had to hunt for blood owls. A falsehood. She resented him for forcing her to lie but necessity demanded it. He was starting to examine Nesta too closely. She’d caught him distracted from his reaping of souls on more than one occasion since the last harvest moon.

Leaving Nesta in their willow hut to read by candlelight, she made her way towards the village, skulking through the thicket and wading up the stream so as to avoid leaving a trace.

She knew exactly where to find her mark. He always attended the bonfire celebrations in his honour, happy to bask in their pitiful human worship, vain creature that he was. It made him extraordinarily easy to stalk down.

Death lounged at the base of an old oak, drinking fae wine, just on the outskirts of the music and merriment. His silk top was unlaced, exposing rich chestnut skin with whirling black markings. They covered his arms and crawled like creeper ivy up his neck, tickling at the sharp line of his jaw. He did not glance her way as she approached, secure in his guise. He did not even tense as she sat before him.

The arrogance of an apex predator was astounding.

Keeping her hood up and her eyes fixed on the knotted bark above his head, she announced bluntly,

'You cannot take my sister. I've seen you lingering near her shadow. And I know what that means. So I'm here to tell you that you can't…Or else, I'll kill you.'

She'd rehearsed this speech and recited it to him as practiced amidst the great ferns, measured and mannerly, making sure to annunciate the consonants crisply, like the Holy Ones did.

Just in case it mattered.

She reckoned it would not have mattered if she’d spoken gibberish, the fact she addressed him at all was enough to spook the Grim.

It was almost comical, the way his back snapped straight, water becoming ice, finely arched eyebrows climbing beneath his tousled fringe as the full force of those violet eyes rested directly on her for the first time.

When he spoke, his voice, rich like sweet birdsong with a pleasant grit caught amidst its tone, was tinged with surprise.

'Why have I never seen you before?'

A hard glint rose above the retreating tides of shock on his face.

She felt a warmth ripple up from the base of her spine to colour her cheeks. Danger had always held such beauty in its thrill. And there was no doubt, as he exposed his sharp gleaming canines, smirking in response to her flush, that he was dangerous.

'I didn't want to be seen. And you're not very observant.'

The smirk vanished.

And in an instant a silver fire broke out. It scorched first the scant space between them before catching onto their bodies. And though she wanted to scream from the pain, Feyre stayed like a statue. For the hawthorns had warned her of this. As the flames rose higher, his indigo shirt dissolved to smoke and ash, and his skin began to melt like candlewax, dripping down his face to expose the rotted flesh and sinew beneath. Shining hints of bone and cartilage peaked through the red, like bog cotton on the hills.

His was an ancient power that he used for horrible tricks.

He growled, his voice echoing through the silver haze, as the gaping maw of his skull hung loose,

'I am Death, girl. I see all.'

In the hitch of a breath, the world turned on its axis and the fire was gone as quickly as it erupted. He sat before her whole and hale again. The sweet relief of cool air did little to quell the phantom burn that tingled on her skin or the irritation that rumbled just beneath.

'And yet,' Feyre snapped, 'you did not see me.'

He sighed heavily, ruffling his wings behind him in irritation, before admitting,

'Yes. And yet. There is that.'

-

She took the chance to study him. Although she knew each posture of his well enough to draw from memory, she’d never had the chance to be this close to him, to count his sooty eyelashes or the faint freckles that scattered constellations across the bridge of his nose. He was the most handsome creature she'd ever seen. Each feature exactly placed and proportioned for perfect harmony. It raised the hackles on her back.

He was like the Cage Flowers in the Northern Plains, that entranced humans with their syrupy fragrance, only to encase and consume them whole.

Such unnatural beauty could only be suspicious.

He scanned her in turn and found her entirely unintimidating, if the way he stretched lazily and leaned back, once more, was anything to go by.

‘Who are you?’

He drawled, snapping his long ink-tipped fingers so his wine disappeared in the blink of an eye. She wondered if that was how it was to die. Here and then with a single click, gone without a trace, to a place unknown.

‘You should never give your name to the fae.’

She retorted.

‘A good thing that I’m much more than a piddling faerie then, isn’t it?’

He scoffed, indignance etched in the furrow on his brow. As if to be called such was the gravest of insults. He was as mercurial as any fae she’d heard about. As childish too, she mused, watching him sketch a a beheaded pixie in the air with sparks of starlight.

She offered him a name to soothe his wounded ego.

So she wouldn’t feel the searing heat of the fire again.

So she could hear him say it.

‘They call me Críoch.’

Death stiffened at that. Just barely. Just enough to make the slight tremor of his wings, as he affected an air of disinterest, meaningful.

‘Who are they?’

‘The trees.’

She replied quietly, patting a protruding root of the oak, before turning the question back again and asking,

‘Who are you?’

He considered her for a moment, giving a long look to her hand that still lay on the root, before asserting, star-flecked eyes boring into her,

‘I am many things to many creatures. I am older than the stardust that made you. I bring forth the start and the end. But’, he huffed in amusement, ‘the trees call me Rhysand.’

It was no surprise to her that the trees had aptly named him. Rhysand suited him, fit him like his fine leather trousers and slipped from his forked tongue with a well-worn comfort.

‘W-will you let my sister live, Rhysand?’

She ventured, cursing the weakness of her voice at such a crucial moment.

‘That depends, Críoch’, he dared, leaning closer until she could see the whirling emptiness of his pupils, ‘on whether you’ll shake my hand.’

He extended his right hand so it hung limply in the air like a patient noose, wisps of night leaking from his blackened fingertips.

He was lethal.

He was breath-taking.

He was close enough to make her heart race and cause a warm feeling to stir deep within the pits of her stomach. His grin looked more like the bearing of teeth and his eyes, hard as granite, stayed affixed on her, his prey.

And though, being so near a God was intoxicating, she still recognised a trap before her.

For the first time that night, Feyre allowed a small smile to break her blank face.

He was not the only hunter in the clearing.

-

She grabbed his hand.

And the world exploded.

-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging @ae-neon since you've already read a conservative half of this and @middlingsister because i know you like a bog story.

[browniefox]

The (New) +Anima Au Guide!

A few months ago, I made a post about the basics of +anima, and now I realize it was kinda bad, so I'm making it again! So, here's a little guide to the basic world of +anima - mostly how anima work - in hopes to inspire people to create +anima aus!

What is +Anima?

+Anima is a ten-volume manga written by Natsumi Mukai. It is very good and cute, you should read it! It revolves around a world where certain people have something called an anima.

When a child is put into a life-threatening situation, there's a chance that they will get the abilities of a nearby animal - granting them wings like a bird, or tail of a fish, for example - in order to survive the situation. It's like if trauma gave you cat ears!

Nana, for instance, was running from her drunk and angry father in the woods at night, and got a bat anima. Natural anima only happen to children.

Getting an anima, or seeing someone with an anima, is rare enough that, even if people are aware of what anima are, those with bird or fish anima are often confused for angels or mermaids. Those with anima are usually treated poorly and feared as something dangerous and scary.

Those with anima are able to look like normal humans most of the time, accessing their anima and transforming back and forth at will. When appearing like a normal human, however, there is still proof of being an anima by way of a marking(s) somewhere on their body. The marking reflects the animal/trait that they have, the location usually correlates with there or how the trait shows up.

As an anima is connected to survival, children with them usually lose their anima as they grow older and find themselves in better situations. In the manga, most of the anima are either kids or teens. There are a few cases of adults with natural anima, two being seemingly homesless men (one seems to be a rat anima, while another is a bison), and a few who are of the Native American-Coded group in the manga, the Kim-un-Kur, who are known to keep their anima through adulthood seemingly because 1. it's less ostracized against, 2. their life style probably is better with one, and 3. they're more in tune with nature and their anima.

(^this is the the buffalo anima and a crow anima)

There is also such a thing as 'fake' or 'manufactured' anima, but only in a sense. There's a way to extract the anima from a person, though if the person is not willing the anima will not remain after the procedure. When willingly extracted, however, the anima can then placed into another person, though the connection between human and anima seems to be tenuous, and the anima may choose to leave.

Outside of a 'manufactored' anima, in canon there is one instance of an anima hopping from one human to another, though in that case the anima was that of a vicious and vengeful bear.

While in-fiction it's mostly hinted at and a little vague, it seems that the anima - as in the animal power itself - seems to have some degree of sentience, as it seems its the anima that makes makes the choice when to leave the human. It seems to be that the spirit of the animal literally ends up in the human that gains the anima.

Those with anima also seem to be able to do a further transformation into a more animal-like form called metamorphosis.

As you may have noticed me doing throughout the post, those with anima are usually just referred to as ‘anima’, though the animal spirit in the is also called their ‘anima’.

In the world of +Anima, there is also a side of the continent that has big market in anima slave trade, so make of that what you will.

Anyway, I find the world of +Anima FASCINATING, please talk to me about +Anima and make aus I love it.

(These are the four main characters of the manga! Cooro (crow), Husky (fish), Senri (bear), and Nana (bat).)

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I hope in "A second chance" the reader won't die. 😭I would love to see how Helion helps her get through the traumatic experience of the difficult birth.

A court of Hope and Second chances part IV

It was Madja who had stopped the bleeding. It was Madja who had put the healers in place, drawn from their powers, and did what she did best - save lives. She lingered long into the night, tending to your unconscious body. Making sure you were comfortable and at ease. No sense of discomfort.

Helion hated it all. He hadn't moved from the side of the bed. He had stayed back, allowing them all to do what had to be done. Only interfering when a handful of healers tried to move you from the bed so they could clean the sheets and wash you off all the blood and grime. That was when Helion scooped you up into his arms gently. He hated that he hadn't thought about his daughter or where she was until Madja had told him that the baby must be hungry by now. Another panic set in there. Where was she? Who took her?

"Handed her to lord Vanserra, my high lord", Helion's gut twisted for a moment because the first thing he thought of was Beron and even the thought of that made him want to tear the world apart. But it had to be Lucien. Then again Helion hated that there was this fear deep down. What if Lucien just took her and ran? What if he will never return her? Bring her to Beron himself? He wouldn't, right?

Helion wasn't even sure where he was walking. He allowed his senses to guide him fully. The door he came across was used rarely. It was only you who used them because this place was made purely for you. He was doubtful that he would find Lucien here because he doubted that you had shared this place with him just yet but if his heart was telling him to, he had to check just in case.

Climbing a handful of stairs, Helion submerged from the bottom level. And it didn't take him long. Lucien was there his back slightly turned to Helion. He had picked your favorite spot under the glass cupola. The sound of trickling water up here was soothing and added to the humming that filled the space this almost felt like a sanctuary.

Helion stepped closer. Lucien was rocking from side to side softly. His eyes fixed on the little bundle in his arms. So captivated by it that he didn't even hear anyone approaching. It's the way the little girl looked right at him too. Her big golden eyes stared at him. Not amber like Helion's, no, golden like Lucien's. Her tiny fist firmly gripped her brother's finger. The rest of his palm rested on top of her chest, without a doubt proving a soothing warmth.

Just Helion steps onto a fallen leaf, the crunch making Lucien quickly pull the bundle closer to his chest as he whipped his head up, fangs out as he snarled. So protective. So scared. Like a lost animal protecting the last sacred thing in the world. Helion wondered often how Lucien would be when she was here. He knew that the fireling stuck around because he was excited to have a sibling, to maybe try the concept of the family once more. He assumed the protectiveness was going to kick in eventually but it happened sooner rather than later.

"My boy, it's just me", Helion said softly as he inched closer. Only then did the high lord notice the way Lucien's chest was raising up and down frantically. He was scared. Worried. "I won't lose her", the words sounded broken and Helion's heart ached once more today. He had heard the horrors of his childhood, the things he endured and he hated himself for it. Because he should have stopped it somehow. Should have known, "You won't. She's in your arms, isn't she? It's already one of the safest places she could be". Lucien's eyes welled up with tears as he leaned in pressing a gentle kiss to the baby's cheek.

"Mom?", he asked, drawing back. Helion let out a deep sigh, "Stable and looked after". He hoped that was true. That it will all be okay. That you will wake up and then he was never going to let you go. No harm will ever come your way. There was no life without you for Helion. "We need to...", Lucien rasped, "Yeah... we'll bring her to Y/N", Helion nodded, stepping aside, leaving enough space for Lucien to get up from the floor, "You did very well, Luci", Helion placed his hand on Lucien's shoulder, squeezing it softly, before the two headed back to the bedroom.

The lights were low there. Madja was gently stroking your hair as the two males walked in. Helion for what felt like a thousand times that day had nearly dropped to his knees as he saw you blinking up at the healer. "My love...", he crocked out, you flinched slightly but your eyes met him in an instant. He halted in his movements, he didn't want to frighten you anymore. You still looked so fragile and pale. Cheeks had barely regained the healthy tinge of pink.

"My baby..?!", you muttered, eyes so fearful, Helion wished he could chase it all away. "Waited patiently with he brother to see you, Ma", your eyes fell onto Lucien, expression softening instantly. You reached your hands towards the two and Lucien wasted no time to head over to you. He carefully lowered the babe into your arms who instantly started to sniffle as if she only now realized, only now that she felt you, a big missing part of her. Only now realized just how hungry she was.

Helion watched as you softly brushed your finger over her round cheek, before reaching to cup Lucien's face. The fear melting off his bones. Madja didn't want to rush the moment but the babe quickly announced her hunger loudly. The healer quickly helped you up, carefully placing another pillow behind your back. And here Helion started to wonder if you blamed him. Were you mad at him? For everything that happened. Because he felt guilty and he wondered if you knew that? When happy grumbles and suckling filled the room, Helion let himself close his eyes. His body felt uneasy now that he stopped with so much adrenaline still flowing through his body. He felt a warm palm on his chest, he knew it was Lucien before he even opened his eyes, "Look after her, stay here", the younger male said, before slipping away from the room.

The baby was sleeping soundly in your arms, yet Helion hadn't moved from his place at the end of the bed ever since. "You're mad at me?", you had asked after a while. Your voice was so small, Helion couldn't help but hate it. "Me?", he quickly asked, "Why would I be mad?", "Because of everything that happened", your words struck him to the core. The last breathing creature he blamed was you. "You've been standing there all cold and distant... you didn't even...", your eyes filled with tears but you quickly tilted your head back. Helion erased the distance between you two, quickly lowering himself on the side of the bed, "I didn't know if you wanted me here. I thought... I thought you blamed me for it all". You furrowed your eyebrows at him, "Why would I?", "I should have had better healers here, should have been here from the start, should have been able to do more, should have...", you quickly raised your hand, cupping the side of his face, pulling him slightly closer to you. There was still so little energy in your body but you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to your lover's, "You were here, that's all that matters". Helion carefully rested his arms on your hips, breathing in your scent, that now was tightly mixed with the baby's. Listening to the steady sound of your breathing. The way your heart was beating. But Helion equally as much felt the fear that still ran through your body. He noticed the slight shake of your arms as you held your daughter.

"I'm so scared I'll die or she...", you muttered Helion cut in, "You will not, neither of you will, I won't let it happen", now both of his palms cupped your cheeks, making you look up at him. "I'm so scared no one will hear me", you crocked out, pressing the sleeping babe tightly against your chest. "I will always hear you, even when you think that no one will. I will always hear your call".

[bunni-v1]

hii, congrats on 500 followers! if it’s okay, i’d like to request idia, trey and leona with D, J, K, M, and T for the NSFW alphabet ^^

🍓AGH I FORGOT YOU LAST NIGHT! I'm so sorry, I was so tired I didn't even notice you among the full list of requests. Please find it in your heart to forgive me!

TW: Idia is REALLY fucking weird; Incest mention (NOT between Ortho and Idia); Idia being a creep; Idia's kinks; Idia

Idia

D - Dirty Secret: Idia is known to watch the cameras at NRC. What people don't know is those cameras are EVERYWHERE (minus the dorm rooms and bathrooms). He sees the students "sneaking around" in broom closets and darkly lit hallways. He hears the muffled whines and moans of "exhibitionists" trying not to get caught. Little do they know they've had his eyes on them the whole time and he's enjoying himself right along with them. It's even better if you're involved (in the case that you're not together, though he's not against cuckolding completely). Seeing his crush be dominated (or do the DOMINATING) by someone else gets him all hot and bothered.

J - Jack Off: He is in a sexual relationship with his right hand. He jacks off all the fucking time -- at least thrice daily. It's always to the worst shit imaginable too, like fucked up incest hentai, anime girls that are HARDLY legal, the shit you'd imagine a shut-in to be into. He's embarrassed by it, 'cause the shit he does is so gross. He'd find it hot if you wanted to watch him though. He'd be all whiny and shy about it, but it's honestly the sexiest thing he's ever done.

K - Kink: The better question is what kink does he NOT have? Roleplay, marking, hardcore bdsm, cuckolding, blah blah blah. You name it, he's considered it and gotten off to it at least once. However, his favorite thing? Soft mushy sex. The kind where you hold his hand and tell him how good he's doing, how well he gets you off, how big his dick is, how pretty he is when he cries. Ugh, that's the shit for him.

M - Motivation: Brushing his hand with yours is enough to make him pop a boner. You can't blame him though, he's never felt the touch of another person who isn't his literal family.

T - Toys: Yeah of course he uses toys. He has a collection (that he HIDES like it's the nuclear codes or something) that he uses on himself when he feels like it. If you wanted to use them on him he wouldn't be opposed... if you want him to use them on you, well, that's even better.

Trey

D - Dirty Secret: Believe me or not, Trey is a fucking perv. He's REALLY ashamed of it because he's Heartslabyul's resident good-boy big brother. He's a role model for most of his dorm mates, so him creeping on the other guys in the locker room isn't something he wants to get out. Oh yeah, he's a panty sniffer lol.

J - Jack Off: Despite being a perv, he doesn't feel a need to get off all that often. Back at home, he doesn't have the time or privacy to. So he just learned to deal with a raging boner. However, when he does, which is rare, he prefers the fantasy of you under the table sucking him off during class over anything porn can offer.

K - Kink: Trey isn't all that kinky, other than the whole panty-sniffing thing. He likes things simple and easy, but he enjoys a power-dynamic kind of situation a lot. Never tell anyone this, but if you wanna play step-siblings with him, it's probably the hardest he ever cums in his life.

M - Motivation: Giving him personal attention over anyone else is a surefire way to get him up and going. Especially when other people want your attention, and you just hard focus on him. Sevens, he loves that, fuels a very rare possessive side of him that he doesn't let out often.

T - Toys: Nah, Trey's a pretty "I'm gonna do it myself" kinda guy. If a toy can give you more pleasure than he can, he's not really doing his jobe right, is he?

Leona

D - Dirty Secret: He wants to be DOMINATED. Put him in his PLACE, call him a good kitty, make him grovel, and beg for you to let him cum. It's his ultimate fantasy, and he wouldn't EVER admit it to anyone -- especially not you. He can't let you know you could have that power over him. (He's a hard dom until he's not, lol).

J - Jack Off: A lot of people say that Leona doesn't jack off but like...? Are we talking about the same character? There is NO WAY he doesn't just lay in bed and stroke it on a really lazy day. Like, yeah he doesn't particularly enjoy it, he'd rather have you, but you have to do what you have to do to get off.

K - Kink: Leona, surprisingly, isn't into anything too humiliating for his partner. I mean, he's got a humiliation kink that goes both ways -- but that's completely verbal degradation stuff. He's a choker, but he'd never slap you. He's pretty much into everything you'd expect a hard dom to be into, but he'd never physically hurt you. It's against his moral code.

M - Motivation: It's hard to get him motivated if he's not into something. So really, there's nothing that gets him motivated, he either wants to fuck you or he doesn't and nothing's changing his mind. Even that pretty silk set he bought you. He's tired now, come take a nap with him. (If you're insistent, he'll eat you out or smth, but don't expect much more than his mouth and hands.)

T - Toys: Leona, like Trey, is very much an "I can do it myself, we don't need toys" guy. And, he's right, he can. He honestly finds toys insulting to his ability and refuses ANYTHING like that ANYWHERE near him or you.

[bnhaficsforthesoul]

BNHA College AU - Midoriya Izuku

Major: Biology

Minor: Forensic Science

Sports: Track

Clubs: Various fan clubs

Ever since izuku was little, he always had an interest in helping people. He’s overly caring and too nice for his own good, and on top of that the biggest overachiever on the planet

Which is why he wants to become a doctor. He hasn’t picked a specific department to go into, because he finds everything so interesting

He did also consider going into forensic studies as a whole career, always thinking solving crimes and stopping bad guys was super cool as a kid, and he knows there are ways he can kind of mix both interests, but for now hes just aiming for his degree

He does also hope to maybe be able to teach at medical schools later in life, once he’s fully experienced so that he can pass on all this experience to the next generation

Growing up he was always weak and small, and so towards the end of high school he decided he wanted to change himself a bit and worked out like crazy, going from scrawny as hell to strong and buff.

He’s always going to the gym in his free time, and he thought it would be a good idea to join a sport that way he can have some motivation to stay fit, so he picked track since he’s pretty agile

Any time a new fan club gets made for something he happens to be interested in, he’s always willing to join it, even if theres only like 3 members. He might not be the most active member, but he loves them.

Izuku is kind of known across campus now, hes so friendly that people cant help but like him. He’s also insanely helpful, and takes god tier notes, so a lot of people rely on him for help with school work

So, he has a busy schedule constantly. He prioritizes his friends over random people always, but with his heavy study based school paths, with sports, and working out, he rarely has free time

You had had a few classes with him here and there, and talked to him once or twice. You knew he was super sweet (and very cute), but you never really expected to even become friends with the dude

Which is why you were almost terrified when he ran into the room you were using for your new club (that you literally started like 2 days ago). You were more so looking for something to put on resumes and stuff, how you ‘managed a successful club in college’ or whatever, so you decided to make a fun little fan club for your favorite anime

Sadly, people weren’t exactly rushing to it (you knew it might take a while, but you knew people would come eventually at least to check it out). Which is why izuku running in so excitedly scared you

“Oh hey! y/n right? We had anatomy together last semester!”

You nodded, kind of surprised he remembered your name, and you asked why he was there.

“I love this anime, and I havent seen any other clubs for it here so i thought i would check it out.Is it just you?”

“Yeah, I just officially started this club the other day. No ones come yet except you.”

“Ah, well don’t worry, I’m sure people will come soon. It usually takes a week or two.”

The two of you started talking more, both about the anime you mutually enjoyed as well as him giving you advice for how to make people flock to your club.

He actually stayed for the entire time you were allotted to use this room, and helped you clean up (there wasn’t much, but you still had some materials just in case people did show up)

Afterwards, you both said goodbye, and went off on your own

Following this, twice a week every week, he would meet you for your club. Eventually more people did show up as well, izuku’s advice was working well, but you were more so interested in talking with him. As it turns out, his sweetness isnt just an act, and hes actually really interesting and fun to talk to

He would eventually even come a bit early to help you set up. Youd usually bring snacks and something artsy to do, or any type of activity you could think of to relate to the anime, so you tried to get there a bit early

After club one day, about 3 months after it started, Izuku and you were cleaning up the room just talking about whatever before he changed the topic

“Did you want to go get food after this? Like real food? I haven’t eaten all day other than what you brought.”

You were a little surprised, you had never hung out outside of club really, but you were definitely happy to do so so you agreed

The two of you walked to a near by restaurant, which also surprised you because you thought he meant fast food, and went inside. He told you to get whatever you wanted, that itd be on him, and you started to protest, “No, its okay! You don’t have to pay for me.”

He shook his head, “You have to buy snacks and supplies every week, youve probably spent way more than I will today, so I don’t mind.”

You definitely felt your face getting warm. You couldn’t really help it, he was so pretty, and probably the nicest man youve ever met. You had thought lately you might have the tiniest little crush on him, but now you were thinking it was an actual crush

It didn’t help when the waitress, a slightly older lady, finally came to take your order and went “Aw, you two are so cute! What’s the occasion?” It wasn’t a fancy restaurant by any means, but it was definitely nice enough to be date quality, and it seemed the lady assumed you two were a couple

And Izuku didn’t even care! All he did was smile and tell her that its a reward for all your hard work lately, to which she said he was ‘such a sweet boyfriend’, and then she asked for your orders

You told her what you wanted, and went quiet. He wasn’t saying anything either, and you wished you could reach into his brain and figure out what he was thinking. Was this just another act of kindness from him? Did he not get what she was saying? Did he just feel bad correcting her? It was too much to process right now, but luckily your food came pretty quick so you could hide your lack of talking through eating

The entire meal was pretty silent honestly, and it was killing you. Normally, you two could talk for hours about anything, but it was just so weird right now. You couldn’t even think of anything to say, and Izuku was staring weirdly at his food.

After he paid, and you walked back towards the dorms, you thanked him for all of his help with your club and for the meal, and he said not to worry about it, your little club was essentially his break time anyways.

There were a few too many moments of silence to be comfortable, so you awkwardly smiled, said “well, still, thanks again” before running off, not noticing Izuku’s lingering eyes on you as you disappeared into the building

In all honesty, izuku was just as flustered as you were. Hes worked hard over the years to not let all of his emotions show, but inside he was panicking the entire time.

He did enjoy your club a lot! It was probably one of the better fan clubs he’s joined, but he didn’t give it so much loyalty just because of that. He stayed because of you - how enthusiastically you talked about the things you like, or your career choice, or anything. How passionate and caring and considerate you are, not to mention beautiful. You’re genuinely perfect in his eyes

Originally, when he asked you if you wanted to eat, he was considering asking you on a date, but he chickened out and made it sound more casual instead

Which is why as he walked back into his dorm, his roommate, Iida, had to deal with all of the loud groaning and mumbling coming from Izuku’s mouth

Izuku had told Iida about his crush on you, and about how he wanted to ask you out today, so his first assumption was that you rejected him. But then Izuku went over and told him about how much of a coward he is, and Iida realized he never even asked you

“It’s alright, Izuku, you can always try again next time.”

Izu shook his head, overthinking, “No, they probably think I’m so weird now. I was so awkward. They were barely talking the entire time we were at the restaurant. Even if it wasn’t a date, it was still so awkward, Iida! I doubt they’d ever even consider dating me now.”

He was kind of losing it, so Iida patted his back in an attempt to comfort him.

“Just go explain yourself now then, before it’s been too long.”

Izuku considered it, and he was probably right. If he waited too long, he might lose all his nerve and never ask you out. And if you did think today was too weird, who knows if you’d even talk to him again.

He decided he’d do it, and so he thanked Iida and went back outside and towards your dorm building. He had your number because you put it on your welcome message for the club for anyone to text you if they had questions, but the two of you had never texted before. He was always too nervous to

Soon after, you got a message from an unknown number, reading “Hey, its Izuku. I’m sorry about earlier, I was wondering if we could talk? I’m outside your dorm if you can.”

You immediately felt anxious, but happy at a chance to make sense of what happened earlier. So you got dressed (you had changed into pajamas as soon as you got home) and went back out as quickly as you could, and immediately noticed him

He was anxiously messing with his fingers, but he smiled softly when he saw you

“Hey, thanks for coming out here. I promise I won’t take long, I just needed you here in person.”

You nodded slowly, slightly confused, but told him not to worry and you didnt mind it.

“So, uhm, I’ll just get straight to the point. Earlier, I was going to ask you on a date, but I chickened out and made it a more casual thing. Which is still fine! But that’s why I was so weird, I was kind of mad at myself and kind of embarrassed. The waitress didn’t really help any, but her thinking I was your boyfriend did make me happy… Anyways! Before I go on too long of a rant, I’m just trying to say I like you Y/n, and if youd let me, I’d really like to take you on an actual date.”

Your heart was melting, he looked so cute and shy as he asked you, and it made you happy knowing your feelings were reciprocated.

“Yes, of course I’d let you, Izuku. I like you too.”

He let out the biggest sigh of relief, barely mumbling out ‘oh thank god’, and his smile only got bigger when you hugged him.

For your real* first date, he took you to a nearby aquarium, it was really cute. He couldn’t help but send this really cute selfie he took of the both of you in front of a sea turtle to his mom and his friend group chat

Most of his friends were ecstatic for him, bakugou did make fun of him though for taking so long to ask you out (of course he knew about his crush too)

His mom immediately wanted to meet you, and you did after a few weeks of dating

It really didn’t take long for Izuku to tell you he loved you, like maybe a month later at most, you’re cleaning up the club room again and he just stops what hes doing and kisses you softly before saying he loves you, to which you reciprocate

He takes you with him to the gym all the time, even if youre not super into working out you can just hang out with him or go at your own pace. But its a great opportunity for tons of hot pictures/videos

Same with his track meets, youre always there cheering him on

You two study together a lot, especially if youre in the same class or even similar ones. Izuku always makes sure youre prepared for your tests even if it means he has to learn the material with you

Izuku is genuinely probably one of the best boyfriends on the planet, you are his biggest motivation and he will do anything to make sure that you are happy

[infinite-hearts-333]

Smiling Critters Cartoon- Ouřa Thorn

I view the cartoon as the like. OG source of all other aus, even though the toys were probably made first, as well as the experiments, BUT I DO WHAT I WANT RWAH. So this is like. OG Thorn.

This is my explanation of where Thorn lives, and how they came into existence within the cartoon universe.

First of all, this story actually starts off with Bubbles. Although she wasn’t known as Bubbles back then- rather by her species, the Giant White-Tipped Wandering Tarantula- or ‘Big Blue’ as called by the rural farmers that would sometimes see her.

Wandering Tarantulas were a massive but mostly passive species of spider- known for patrolling expansive of land for food and water, and their freakishly good mimicry skills. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d see them clamber along the sides of wheat field, ever careful to not flatten any off the plants. They are tenders to the forest- a guardian to ward off any thing that threatens the beasts that reside inside.

One concept that I love and have burrowed is that there are ‘Critters’ aka Dogday ect, that are human like- and then ‘Beasts’ that are animals. And on some rare occasions, if a beast earns an emblem, they can become a critter, like Bobby bear hug from @novalizinpeace (who has a new blog now for their au, go check it out!!!!)

Bubbles was a beast- a very smart beast, just like how animals of our world can be very intelligent.

The way Thorn was born, was just like any other critter- by stork. And in this situation, by pure luck, fate and the animal intelligence that Bubbles possessed.

Litter happens. And sometimes, critters loose things. So whilst one fine morning, when Bubbles is wandering through the forest, they step on a paper, that had blown in, smudging a foot print on the bottom half. This note, was actually a letter- a half finished letter for a child that a parent must have lost.

Not that Bubbles knew that.

Unsure what to do with this paper, the tarantula did what most animals do- copy the creatures that normally have it. By watching the Critters, Bubbles witnessed Critters putting paper in a big red box. So they did the same. And, effectively, mailed a baby request, signed with their foot print.

Now I think there would be a little bit of slack in the Storks since in Nova’s au, King Canv(ass) got Crafty, and apparently Crafty and Dogday wrote a drunk letter and accidentally got another kid, so I’m gonna say that the storks are flexible, in case in more rural places were education isn’t the greatest, writing is a little hard.

And in the topic of rural- some farms just. Do not have addresses, and come on, it’s a magical place and babies come by storks- I’m allowed to bend the rules a little. So for rural places, you leave your finger print on the paper, and the storks use magic to track the print to exactly where you are! Hence why normally, the parent that leaves the print stays at home until the baby comes, cause you don’t want to get them like, at work.

And sometimes, since it’s such a tradition, the parents will leave the finger print instead of their name.

And well…… I feel sorry for that poor stork.

It was a first ever- that a Beast had ever snuck into the stork system. And after checking their equipment four times- nope, the letter was 100% from the Giant Tarantula. Also, there was no rules for this. Was the stork meant to leave a baby with this massive spider??? Take it back? Leave it at an orphanage? (Which was probably didn’t even exist if birth control wasn’t a problem if you get what I mean)

The stork contact their boss, and ofc, he/her/they, didn’t believe it at all. So the stork. Sat the baby down, and watch from afar, pray this animal would take the child.

And she did! The little spiky thing smelt weird, but when Bubbles pressed their pedipalps into the little things softer underbelly, it curled around them with the tiniest little purr ever. And well. Bubbles was therefore convinced that this little thing was their spiderling.

Between the half baked (defiantly a draft) writing and the crinkled, weathered paper with the dirty print- Ouřa Thorn turned out with some issues- the most prominent being that one of their horns had snapped. Whether the horn was to weak and broke, or if it never fully developed- no one knows- but it dreadfully impacted Thorns hearing, and therefore, their volume of their voice when they started interacting with other Critters.

Bubbles also being the Best Mum Ever tm, also was proven when it came to Thorns emblem- mainly because she found it. Thorns emblem is of course, the image of the world serpent- or Ouroboros.

Bubbles had found it deep within the forest, in a tiny old ruin- and well, knowing that their spiderling hoarded shinies like no one’s business, they took it back for them.

To Bubbles knowledge, they love it so much they wear it everywhere they go!

[kustas]

I recently witnessed someone on twitter with the spicy but interesting position of: the only people vehemently bitching against 2D puppets are the animators who have to use them. So, what's the tea, why's this debate even a thing, and is one side wrong?

Rigged 2D animation, also known as puppet animation, and prolly other terms I'm not aware of. Most 2D animators I know treat it with disdain as something they're forced to work on to survive instead of "real" animation (=hand drawn in this case), and while I've encountered less negative sentiments towards the medium coming from fans, I have seen several people complain about it unknowingly, correctly nailing visual aspects they don't like without knowing their cause. Additionally, it can be really hard to tell apart what's rigged and what's hand drawn in 2D, with many series mixing both to their advantage.

The reason for rigged stuff being so prevalent is that it's cheaper and faster. Where hand drawn requires redrawing your entire character/thing frame by frame to make it move, puppet animation uses, well, puppets, ready-made articulated models you just need to pose. It's also possible to use interpolation - instead of deciding by hand every image between two poses, you let the computer calculate it and come later to tweak how each part moves to make it look good. There is little to no drawing involved in rigged 2D, asides of rare shots that need a little part drawn over when the puppet can't do something specific, or drawing the eyes/mouths/hands/etc when you're making the puppets themselves. Notice I said series and not films in my previous paragraph - this is because animations with longer runtimes and/or shorter production times benefit strongly from this medium. You will not need to clean, to inbetween, to color and whatever other steps can go in hand drawn 2D when you have puppets. You can use the interpolations to your advantage on some movements. It's near impossible to be off model. You don't even need to draw!

And most animators uh, they're here because they like to draw. You can say animating and drawing are two different things, that is true, I've even heard it from the mouth of an insanely talented hand drawn animator called Liane-Cho Han who described himself as a poor drawer despite an impressive 2D portfolio. Poor drawer, good animator, it blew my mind at the time but when I started animating I understood what he meant. But puppet animation is still animation, and much closer to how 3D animation works, with stop-motion being comparable to hand drawn in terms of difference between these mediums. Yet you don't see industry-spanning bitching about 3D vs stop motion! This leads to my next point: puppets are limiting.

One of the advantages of hand drawn animation compared with other animation techniques especially those using character rigs is that you're not limited to said rigs. You can just draw anything, regardless of digital puppet constraints, of art style, of physics. If you can put it on paper, you can animate it. Puppets, both 3D and 2D, have limitations - the art needs to be made (sculpt, drawings) and be placed on a complex invisible digital skeleton allowing you to correctly manipulate your character, which is a job in itself. The more stuff you want your character to be able to do, the more complex it gets. You can't automate all of it. This means productions with lower budget and/or ambitions will tend to have simpler rigs which allow less. An example is angles: when you're hand drawing a character and want to pose them, you can pick whatever angle you'd like for all body parts. Rigs might not give this as an option, especially subtler angles of the head and foreshortening. This might make some movements you had in mind impossible, with a need to stylize your poses and your breakdowns. Not being able to have these angles can make for animation that looks stiff or awkward and can be very annoying to work with depending on the animator.

That artificial stiffness is to me, one of the telling signs something is rigged, and part of the reasons I don't like it myself! That's right, I'm with the haters here. Except stiffness doesn't necessarily mean something used digital rigs, and stiffness isn't inherently a bad thing - as with all art styles, it can just be that, a stylistic choice. Enters a director who's work I'll use as a counter example to the dislike of 2D puppets, both from an animator's and a hater layman's point of view on the results: Michel Ocelot.

Famous in France and way less internationally, two staples of his work are his fixations on fairytales and Africa. Fittingly, his most famous movie is probably Kirikou, a feature film which mixes both. Ocelot's work is stylized in a way unique to him, which can make his work very repetitive, but also makes it instantly recognizable. Some of his staples include static shot compositions, actors that talk like they're reading their lines out of an old book, busy backgrounds and folk tale tropes. Stiffness is just a part of what his movies look like, as are art styles that take inspiration from traditional art and past periods. He started out working before digital puppets were a thing, and while he's embraced digital techniques, releasing a full CG feature film in the 00s before it was the norm, he has worked without, including on Kirikou which is animated the old way.

The earliest of his films I've seen is called Princes and Princesses, it's already got everything typical of his work, and one of the latest of his films I've seen (and among my personal favorites of everything he's done) is called Black Pharaoh, and while decades and different techniques separate these two, they're both based around, you guessed it, puppets. P&P is a blatant hommage/reference to animation pioneer Lotte Reiniger, who used literal paper puppets to animate fantasy movies who's style is very reminiscent of the graceful, slightly simplified illustrations popular at the time. Black Pharaoh uses digital 2D puppets and is entirely animated using the (meticulously researched) style of ancient egyptian wall paintings. Both of these films tell a story, not like movies usually do, but like an orator retelling a tale does. And it works! The characters don't move in a 3D space, but it doesn't matter, they're from a fresco or are paper. The character's don't move realistically and it doesn't matter either, they're not trying to trick your eyes into looking real, they're characters of a story. Ocelot's films are a case where using puppets and their limitations works in favor of the film, not otherwise, and his stuff that's not made with puppets looks like it could be.

I'll briefly talk about a film I hate here to make the final point before my conclusion, netflix's Klaus. This is a film who's insanely impressive animation has floored people regardless of how much they know about animating. Unlike a lot of "this looks very cool" (actually p easy to make) animations you see going viral online, here everyone's right, it is indeed insanely hard to animate like that. Klaus was hailed because of it's uncanny ability to look like modern CG while being entirely hand drawn, which I think is stupid, because it's a lot of effort and talent wasted for a result that looks incredibly generic. Would this film have been bad if it had used CG? Why do people think hand drawn is better than CG in the first place? That I can't answer but the reason studios use it is money: either because it's trendy and will make more money because it's trendy, or because it's cheaper to make, which depends on what you're trying to achieve. In the end, they're techniques. Techniques have pros and cons and things they're better at than others. Time and money are essential to producing a film wether you like it or not.

So: are people wrong to hate on puppets? Nah, it's a question of taste. You can hate the look a technique gives and that's fine. But "ugly" is subjective and it's important to be aware of that if critiquing stuff is your job.

Was that tweet right? Yeah, pretty much, lol. For many if not most animators it's a technique they're forced to use, that removes a major reason they like their job from said job, and can be frustrating to work with. It's worth noting a lot of the work you'll get nowadays is on cheap productions, and the techniques they'll use most will be associated with the slop they are. Doesn't mean you'll inherently make slop. A technique is just that, a technique.

[babeilovemonsters]

It's incredibly rare for me to post twice in one day, but I can't get merfolk out of my head. This one is more self indulgent, but I still hope you enjoy!

You just love to collect seaglass and rocks. Who doesn't? Seaglass is so, so pretty, and soft, the result of something ugly and dangerous becoming delicate and smooth, while every single stone and rock is completely unique, with it's own story to whisper in your ear, as gentle as the lapping waves.

But the beach is connected to one of the most vast biomes known to us. Few people truly know what goes on in that place. What lurks beneath the surface, cleverly dodging our eyes and avoiding our traps. Yet from time to time, something is bound to slip up. Sometimes as small as a scale, and sometimes as big as a whale. Today, you found that something. A mer.

They were nothing like what you were maybe expecting. You'd heard tales of perfect, pale skinned models, with the lower bodies of beautiful fish. This merfolk was nothing like that. Their skin a dark green, like seaweed, with bumps and scrapes, freckles and spots. Their tail was a nice red, and looked to mimic the appearance of a red snapper in both colouration and shape. They were fairly small, only around 4ft long, and thick, with a soft, round belly and chubby arms. Their hair was a darker shade of green than their skin, but didn't look at all like hair, moreso like the tendrils of a jellyfish. They were... beautiful.

You weren't sure what to do exactly. It's not like this had ever happened to you before. It was barely out of sight of the public beach, half in the water, half out, bleeding out from several deep wounds all over their body. If you left them here, they'd likely die. But if they were a siren, they could kill you soon after rescue. You thought about it for a while, not even sure if they were still alive, before jumping back as they let out a sudden gasp. They appeared to be able to breathe air at least, blessed with both lungs and gills, so that's one less problem.

You decide to do the selfless thing, and gently wrap the mer in your beach towel, leaving room for them to breathe, but making sure to cover them from the masses. You hurry back home as quick as possible, checking for their pulse every now and then to make sure they're still kicking. Metaphorically speaking. Once home, you head straight to the bathroom, turning on the bathtub tap and carefully placing them inside, tending to their wounds as the tub slowly fills. You remember salt water fish can't really breathe in fresh water, so you just hope the air is enough intake for them, and leave to let them heal in peace.

In all honesty, you nearly forget about them. It isn't until a few hours later when you hear water splashing from the bathroom that you're hit with a sudden realisation. You quickly hurry to the bathroom, only to find your little catch very much awake, thrashing and panicking at the strange environment. You attempt to coax them down, but alerting them to your presence only startles them more, as they breach the water's surface, snarling like a feral animal, baring their jagged shark-like teeth. Their bold yellow eyes stare daggers into you, unblinking.

You take a few steps back out of the bathroom, holding up your hands in surrender. You speak gently, in the softest way possible, just hoping they can understand English. They don't back down at first, but eventually, they grow fatigued from their injuries, seeming to just give up and accept your words of reassurance. Worst case scenario to them, you eat them and their pain ends. But of course, you don't do that. You sit with them, trying to encourage them to talk back.

They certainly seem to understand, as they respond to your questions with a tired nod or head shake, but they only ever verbally respond with little chirps and growls. You realise they may not have the same vocal chords as you do. Shit. Scratch that plan. You then turn to sign, telling them how to sign certain things. They barely pay attention at first, but eventually begin to cooperate, copying your signs. Your praise seems to surprise them at first, like they don't fully get why it's a big deal, but by the early hours of the morning, you've taught them basic phrases and letters, and they've started to take this praise as something to work towards.

Of course you aren't immune to sleep, so after ordering some foods containing shrimp and seaweed from your local Chinese restaurant for them, you go to bed.

This routine keeps up for a while. You get some actual fish for them to eat, not just takeout, and try teaching them more sign, to make communication much easier. As the days turn into weeks, they begin to heal, until eventually, they're well enough to go back out there. Still not fully recovered, but no longer bleeding, and now strong enough to brace the waters.

You wait for nighttime before daring to take them back to the beach, and duck down in a small cove to release them. They dart off at first, leaving you a bit sad, as they didn't seem to bother saying goodbye. But they soon return before you can sulk off back home, offering you a fish they had caught in their jaws. You politely decline, but tell them you'd love to see them again, and teach them more sign.

And so you do. Nearly every day, you duck down in your little cove, and meet your fast healing friend, to catch up and Google new things to sign together. It becomes routine for you now. The mer even begins to bring you rocks, shells and seaglass every time you visit. You think nothing of it, of course. They're just being nice! Until one day, they get visibly fed up with this part of the routine, and use whatever signing knowledge they have to ask why you keep taking the gifts without accepting the request.

Request? You weren't aware. Was this gift giving actually a ritual in mer culture? You apologise profusely, asking what their request was, and offering to give back what they'd given. They decline that offer, but finally clarify, that's how merfolk request a partnership. They had been trying to court you for little over a month, and you hadn't noticed.

You at first decline, unsure if that's morally acceptable. But... you give it some thought. Actually, why would that be so bad? They're sweet, and cute. And you've always been a bit of a monsterfucker. Surely it's worth a shot!

... right?

Part 2 is in the comments now.

[picturejasper20]

Speaking about Danny, he is one of those rare cases i can say that a kid/teen lead protagonist is one of my top favourite characters in an animated show. You could argue ¨Not surprising, duh, he is the protagonist¨ but here is the thing: Most often that not my favourite characters are those who aren't in the main lead or are antagonists.

The thing with Danny is that he is pretty balanced as a character. He has tons of flaws that are realistic for a teenagers of his age but he never comes off as irritable unlike other male protagonists in other show.

It helps that he is quite introverted and chill. He has a bit of an ego without coming off as completely arrogant or inconsiderate of others. In fact, Danny is pretty insecure. He starts as very anxious at the start of the show. He wants to fit in with others of his peers, considering how he is seen as one of the weird kids in his school.

I think a lot comes from how he is someone who just wants to help others and he is well intentioned. He is a teen who wants to protect his family and city from ghosts attacks. He is someone who is just trying his best in spite having many things against him.

It's a simple way to write a protagonist yet it manages to be so effective because of how you see them grow and change over the course of the series.

Another aspect is how well he contrasts with other characters he interacts in the show, like Jazz and Valerie. For example, Jazz has very different personality from Danny. Where Danny is impulsive, Jazz tries to be more responsible and sensible. While Jazz is a top student, Danny struggling with his grades (a lot thanks to ghost hunting).

Danny can also be pretty funny at times too. Most of his funny moments come from his own sarcarsm, bad puns he makes, his own naivety and clumsiness.

And the thing is, that while Danny usually tries to be a good kid, he has moments that he can be a little shit. When that happens, specially it involves being a little shit towards his enemies, it's comedy gold. One of my favourite scenes involving this is in Maternal Instinct when Danny tricks Vlad in giving him a hug and instead he puts the Specter Deflector on Vlad, in result weakening his ghost powers.

On last point, some antagonists are build around Danny's character, actings as foils for who he could turn into if he choose a dark path. Vlad Masters acts the opposite of Danny in almost every way possible, thus highlighting Danny's positive attributes, like his caring and protective nature. Dan Phantom, also known as ¨Dark Danny¨, represents another person that Danny could turn into if he happened to lose everyone he cares about and let rage consume him.

In all he is very enjoyable protagonist. I would argue that is a character who is hard to dislike since it, again, it is well balanced in different areas. It is satisfying seeing him go from the insecure boy he is at the start to becoming the hero of Amity Park over the course of the seasons.

[beardedmrbean]

"Disney wasn't an antisemite"

Uh you sure you wanna die on that hill?

How about we ask the Jewish Press what they think

Actress Meryl Streep reignited a debate that has simmered below the surface in Hollywood for decades: Was Walt Disney anti-Semitic?

The occasion was the annual awards event of the National Board of Review, an organization of filmmakers, students, and movie scholars. Streep presented an award to Emma Thompson, for her role in the new movie “Saving Mr. Banks,” about the making of the 1964 Disney film “Mary Poppins.” Thompson co-stars as Poppins author P.L. Travers, alongside Tom Hanks as Walt Disney.

Streep took the opportunity to blast Disney as racist and misogynist who also “supported an anti-Semitic industry lobbying group.”

She did not actually call Disney an anti-Semite, but many people took it that way. The Hollywood Reporter declared that Streep accused Disney of being “sexist, racist and anti-Semitic.” Film professor David Hajdu said Disney was “a deeply flawed human being. A misogynist? You bet. An anti-Semite? That, too.” An unnamed “female Academy member” interviewed by the Reporter referred to him as “that old anti-Semite, himself, Mr. Disney.”

Hollywood historian Neal Gabler examined the anti-Semitism charge in his 2006 biography of Disney. “Of the Jews who worked [with Disney], it was hard to find any who thought Walt was an anti-Semite,” Gabler reported. “Joe Grant, who had been an artist, the head of the model department, and the storyman responsible for Dumbo… declared emphatically that Walt was not an anti-Semite. ‘Some of the most influential people at the studio were Jewish,’ Grant recalled, thinking no doubt of himself, production manager Harry Tytle, and Kay Kamen [head of Disney’s merchandising arm], who once quipped that Disney’s New York office had more Jews than the Book of Leviticus. Maurice Rapf concurred that Walt was not anti-Semitic; he was just a ‘very conservative guy.’ ”

On the other hand, one former Disney animator, David Swift, has claimed he heard Walt make an anti-Semitic remark, and another ex-staffer, David Hilberman, has alleged that one employee was fired because he was Jewish. (However, according to Gabler, Disney himself was rarely involved in firing anyone except the top brass). In addition, the original animated version of the “Three Little Pigs” portrayed the Big Bad Wolf as a stereotypically Jewish peddler, although after complaints, the segment was altered.

When it comes to explicit proof that Disney was anti-Semitic, the critics’ case weakens.

“There is zero hard evidence that Disney ever wrote or said anything anti-Semitic in private or public,” according to Douglas Brode, author of Multiculturalism and the Mouse: Race and Sex in Disney Entertainment. Brode told The Hollywood Reporter that Disney used more Jewish actors “than any other studio of Hollywood’s golden age, including those run by Jewish movie moguls.”

Gabler also revealed that Disney “frequently” made unpublicized donations to a variety of Jewish charities, including a Jewish orphanage, a Jewish old age home, Yeshiva College (precursor to Yeshiva University), and the American League for a Free Palestine. The League, better known as the Bergson Group, publicly supported the armed revolt against the British in Palestine by Menachem Begin’s Irgun Zvai Leumi. Disney was embracing not just Zionism, but its most militant wing.

How, then, did the rumors of Disney’s alleged anti-Semitism spread so far and wide?

That’s where Meryl Streep comes in. The “anti-Semitic industry lobbying group” with which Disney was associated was the Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals. The group’s statement of principles said nothing about Jews; its declared purpose was to prevent “Communist, Fascist, and other totalitarian-minded groups” from gaining a foothold in Hollywood. Among its members were politically conservative actors such as John Wayne, Clark Gable, and Ginger Rogers. But some of its other members were accused of being privately anti-Semitic, and in general it had a reputation as being reactionary.

Gabler believes that “the most plausible explanation” for the rumors about Disney were a kind of guilt by association: “Walt, in joining forces with the MPA and its band of professional reactionaries and red-baiters, also got tarred with their anti-Semitism. Walt Disney certainly was aware of the MPA’s purported anti-Semitism, but he chose to ignore it…. The price he paid was that he would always be lumped not only with anti-Communists but also with anti-Semites.”

The irony is that while Meryl Streep was condemning Walt Disney for associating with extremists, she herself was doing the very same thing. The actress to whom she gave that award when she made her anti-Disney speech, her close friend Emma Thompson, is active in the anti-Israel boycott movement.

Streep hailed Thompson as “splendid, beautiful, practically a saint…a living, acting conscience.” Yet this “saint,” together with other British actors, publicly urged a boycott of Israel’s Habimah theater troupe when it participated in a festival in England. Habimah, of course, has nothing to do with Israeli government policies or any political issues. Its only “crime” is that it’s Israeli.

By contrast, Thompson had no problem with the National Theater of China taking part in that festival, even though it really does represent the Chinese regime – a regime guilty of the most heinous human rights violations, aid to terrorists around the world, and support for the genocidal government of Sudan. But of course, hypocrisy is the hallmark of the “saints” of the anti-Israel boycott crusade. ______________________

The Antisemitism claim is literally communist propaganda.