i bark and the animals listen

4

This is Moose. I found him a few months back as a puppy in the side of the road beaten and abused. Nobody can figure out what he is. He’s hyper but loves to cuddle, loves everyone and every dog, doesn’t bark often, listens well, no more than 3 pounds and loves sticks and leaves. I can’t really get a good picture because he moves a lot and blends in with everything. Can you help me out?

Roots (Prologue)

Originally posted by peruni

EXO Fanfic: Fantasy AU
Main Pairing: Female Reader x Byun Baekhyun (Light Fairy)

You are an Elven Outsider living in the Human World, living peacefully as a florist and gardener. But your peace shatters when you are discovered by a Representative from the Council of the Other World. Will he discover your secrets?

AUTHOR NOTE: IMPORTANT: Although these fics can be read independently, they are actually part of a crossover collection! The Other World Collection is all written in the same AU, with repeating characters and connected storylines. Starting with Charred, then Struck and this new fic which runs somewhat parallel to Struck. I would recommend reading Struck first at least (even if you just skim it!) - but also, I always always write so you can understand it if you have just picked it up here!

Next >

Six Years Ago

You stared at your reflection in the small pool of water in front of you. You blinked back tears as your face stared back at you, rippling gently as a light breeze played gently across the surface of the water. Your hair was wound delicately back from your face, laced with flowers and a crown of ivy. Your skin was glowing. You looked beautiful… and miserable.

I can’t go through with this, you thought, feeling your body tremble.

‘Y/N! What are you doing?’

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invaderjade  asked:

can you write more of tom being motherly with the laser puppies please

Aww! Of course I can! I had SO much fun writing this! I think it turned out really cute and I had a fun time writing the ending and I hope you enjoy it!


“Hang on, hang on, you’ll all get a turn.” Tom promised. He picked up each puppy once at a time and gave them a hug and kiss, and then set the back down, before patting them on the head. Then the next puppy would jump on his lap and he would continue the routine again.

Marco stood in the doorway with a hand over his heart as the pups lined up for love from the demon. After he gave them all hugs and kisses, Tom scooped all of the puppies up in a hug and held them in his arms. He brought them over to the couch and tucked them into bed like they were real babies. Tom then looked over at Marco, and blushed when he saw Marco had seen everything.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tom asked. “Puppers need their sleep!” He defended. Marco smiled and kissed Tom on the head.

“I know they do. You’re such a good mommy pup.” Marco teased. Tom blushed deeply and looked away.

“I am NOT a mother pup!” Tom defended. His case was ruined when a puppy started to whimper and Tom scooped him up. “Aw! Poor angel, there there, it’s okay.” Tom cooed. He looked up and saw Marco smiling at him. He blushed deeply and tried to get an angry look. He had little sparks of fire at his feet. “I am not a mother pup!” He snapped.

“Tom, you are cradling it like it’s a real baby.” Marco pointed out. Tom took a step back.

“Well… I uhm…” Tom trailed off. “Puppies sleep better when they’re rocked back and forth!” He defended. Marco gushed and gave Tom a kiss. The demon blushed deeper and set the puppy back down on the couch with his brothers and sisters.

“You take great care of the puppies, if it weren’t for you they wouldn’t be as well off as they are now.” Marco told Tom. Tom tilted his head curiously.

“All I do is hug them and such.” He giggled a bit.

“Yeah well… you have animal instincts that me and Star don’t.” Marco explained. “You knew when Nacho was sick, even though I couldn’t see anything wrong. And we took him to the vet and it turned out you were right.” Marco explained. Tom smiled a bit and Marco kept going. “You can figure it out when they’re hurt, or sad, or upset. You can read them like a real mother pup.” Marco teased. Tom giggled.

“Well… it’s an instinct demons have. Baby and kid demons are more animal-like than human.” Tom explained. “We need to be able to sense when our young is distressed. Even if they aren’t able to communicate it to us. And even though I’m just a kid too, I don’t have any cubs, I guess I can tell with Earth animals.” Tom explained.

“Well you do an amazing job.” Marco assured. Tom smiled a little and pet the puppies head. “Maybe you can teach me how to take care of them like you do.” He joked. But Tom took it seriously.

“Okay! Well it all has to do with listening.” Tom started. “If the puppy tells you he’s hungry, what do you do?” Tom asked.

“Puppies can’t talk, Tom.” Maro told the demon. Tom looked very confused.

“Uh, yeah they can? What do you think all that barking is?” He asked. Marco leaned forward.

“Are you saying that animals talk with their own little language?” He asked. Tom nodded and Marco got more excited. “And you can understand them!?” marco asked. Tom nodded again. “Tom that’s amazing!” He cried.

“Really? You’re saying you don’t know what animals say when they make noise?” Tom asked. Marco shook his head and saw one of the puppies yawn and get up.

“What’s he saying?” Marco asked. Tom laughed.

“Well he’s still a pup, mostly it’s baby talk. He’s yawning now.” Tom translated. The puppy made a little noise and sat on Tom’s lap. Tom petted him and the puppy made another little noise and rolled onto his back, showing his tummy. “He said ‘pet please’.” Tom told Marco. And then he began to rub the puppy’s belly.

“Aww! Can earth animals communicate better than demon cubs?” Marco asked. Tom nodded.

“Yeah, definitely. Demon cubs actually do mostly make noise and angry sounds, they don’t start talking till they’re about three. But Earth animals start when they’re about four weeks.” Tom explained.

Marco smiled and watched Tom pet the puppy some more. He knew so much about cubs, demon and animal. And he took care of these puppies so well. And Tom actually seemed to enjoy taking care of them. He was there every time a puppy cried, even if the puppy was upset, Tom was there with one of it’s toys. Tom really was good at this.

Marco looked over at Tom and took the demon’s hands. He gave Tom a kiss and caused a deep blush to cover his face. “What was that for?” Tom asked, blushing even deeper. Marco giggled and tickled behind Tom’s ears, enjoying when he purred sweetly.

“Hey, Tom?” Marco asked. Tom opened one eye, but his purring didn’t cease. “All jokes aside, one day you’re going to make a really good dad.” Marco spoke. Tom jumped and pulled away a little bit. That was never a thought that would have gone through his head, he never would have thought he’d make a good dad. He’d just lose his temper at the kid and then feel guilty. He’d make a terrible dad… but Marco said he would. And Marco had never lied to him before.

“Th-thanks Marco.” Tom replied, petting the dog’s tummy again. “Thanks a lot, actually.”

Far too young to die

WARNINGS: Fluff shit. Flirty Clark. Concerned Bruce. 
Summary: The reader is the adopted daughter of millionaire Bruce Wayne, she is currently going to college and is an intern at the Daily planet where she is partnered with Clark Kent. She is oblivious to Clark’s alter ego and develops a certain crush on a black haired, glasses wearing Daily Planet employee.
Notes: My first DC fic so it might be choppy until I can get a hold of it. But besides that I hope you guys enjoy. This fic is based off an idea from my dear close friend @alelostinwonderland. I dedicate this series of fics to her. Check out her fandom fic blog! @fan-dom-imagines 

Chapter 1

Clark Kentxreader

 “Have a nice day at work Ms. (Y/n)!” Alfred shouted as he waved good-bye to you and Bruce. You waved back with a smile as Bruce backed out off the drive way.

 “So how’s work been going?” Bruce asked after a few minutes of silence.
 “It’s been going really good. It’s not a real job but I do like the atmosphere, and the people.” You answered looking out the window, watching the blur of passing trees.
  “What about school? How are the classes?” 
“Bruce don’t worry, I can handle this,” you turn to him. He didn’t look back at you. “I’m not worrying. I’m just concerned.” He said in his defense. “Work and school. I told you I can pay for everything.”

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My heart-dog Bandit has come with an awkward old-man smile to say BE KIND TO OTHERS!

And you better listen because he’s hella old and hella wise.

Sequel to THIS (probably you should read that ficlet first, so that this one makes sense…)  Uni!lock is not usually really my jam, but I fell a little in love with this tiny AU and had to finish it.

Continued under the cut for brevity’s sake.


John is tired; it’s obvious in the reddened rims of his eyes and the frequent yawns he hides behind his fist.  A misstep, to invite him out so late.  The first of many missteps this evening.

A misstep to go to the club, a misstep to wear his heart on his sleeve like embroidery for John’s brash sister to read, and a misstep of epic proportions still to come if only he can unlock his jaw and let himself speak.

The cafe is sharply-lit and echoing, noisy like an empty classroom, or a hospital at night.

John sips on weak coffee from a chipped ceramic mug and watches Sherlock through drooping eyelashes.  He taps his watchband against the table.   Click.  Sip.

Sherlock sits and panics quietly in his chair.

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The soil is my book of prayer, the animals and insects are the choir, and the forest is my church. I need no hymns but the sound of the swamps, I need no towering walls of stained glass and marble, only the rough bark and dense moss found in the deep woods. The gods that listen need no paintings or reliefs, only the night sky and dark soil. My place on this earth is not something I am owed, but a gift and so long as I remember this, I will be happy.

anonymous asked:

So I have a language question. You've said before that animals don't have language as it is technically defined because language needs to have sounds with arbitrary meanings. Sort of spark notesing it there but that's the gist. But my question is, how do we know that animals don't do this? Have their been studies done to see if any species arranges sounds in ways where they have no meaning otherwise?

Yay language question!

For people who are curious about my previous commentary on animals not speaking language, read this. I also highly recommend this post from a linguistics-specific tumblr blog. Essentially, it is well-established, widely agreed upon linguistic fact that animals do not speak language.

Great spark notes summary! I do just want to clarify something before talking about the research that has been done about animals in this regard.

It’s not just that language uses arbitrary sounds to create meaningful utterances (ex: there’s nothing about the sounds in “dirt” that require the utterance to mean “dirt” - it could feasibly mean “cow” in some other language/universe). This principle I mentioned is only one facet of what is required for a communication system to be considered a language. Languages also require other unique features. Otherwise, they’re not languages. For instance, languages are recursive, which means they can create an infinite number of utterances, and that utterances theoretically can be infinite themselves. Languages contain a complex grammar system that requires structure in how sounds, words, phrases, etc. are formed. Language is culturally shared and we’re not all innately born with the ability to speak the SAME language - we learn different languages based on our upbringing. So it’s not just that languages require the sounds of their language to be arbitrarily assigned to meaning. They require that plus some other things, and if they lack one of those features, they’re not languages.

This is not some weird post hoc set of requirements that linguists have made to make human communication sound unique. Rather, this list of required features comes from a lot of observation from many forms of communication systems.

Arbitrariness in Animal Communication

So to begin answering your question, yes, this has definitely been studied! One of the most common FAQs I and other linguists get is about animal communication and its relation to language. Scientists in the field have definitely been interested in it and have sought to understand it through a number of studies!

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Some words to remember me by

A Piece Of Me

I’ve walked the line, spent some time in a heartbreak hotel, and another called California, riding the lightning while dancing to the beat of the master of puppets.
I’ve been on a stairway to heaven and fallen off onto a highway to hell.
I’ve been welcomed to the jungle and been told to nevermind. Just take a jagged little pill and it will seem like paradise city.
Ive come across the wall, and had to break on through to the other side. Just to sit down in a roadhouse with my blues, and listen to the piano man while throwing whiskey in the jar. That’s where I heard a story about a guy named Bobby Magee, and from then on in, the story teller had a piece of my heart.
I took a walk on the wild side while thinking about a space oddity and dudes that look like ladies with names like Lola.
I’ve woken to the rooster, next to Alice in chains, and heard that Jeremy had spoken to some stone temple pilots about using Jeffersons aeroplane to fly me and the white rabbit to Texas to see a bunch of butthole surfers about some good vibrations.
I was sitting on the dock of the bay with my girl, when I heard it through the grape vine that school was out for summer. So we passed the dutchie pon the left hand side as we found a deep purple haze, where I excused myself so I could kiss the sky.
I walked through Scarborough fair and ran in a field of crimson and clover, but there was no Holly there, the Holly had died. There I listened to the sound of silence, which was indeed a quiet riot, and waited for a bad moon rising. I wasn’t there to bark at the moon though, I thought I’d leave that to the animals. So I left to make it to the house for the rising sun, while listening to the werewolves of London.
I dropped some stone roses on a heart of glass just to hear the clash, then sat and listened to Nico talk of all tomorrow’s parties. We went together, she looked like a Venus in furs and wore diamonds on the soles of her shoes. Mine were blue suede, good for walking down Abbey Road.
I met The Gambler, but it was ok because as luck would have it, I carried around the ace of spades. I won it in a pinball competition against a kid named Tommy.
It was a hard days night, but getting better all the time, on a magical mystery tour with Eleanor Rigby. At times I asked myself, should I stay or should I go, but there was something in the way she moved that made me unable to stay away.
Run around Sue, Mustang Sally and Maggie McGill talked about Jane’s addiction. I listened to closely, and before I knew it, I too was hooked. Jane says it’s often that way, once a Farrell seed takes root in your mind.
I met the man who sold the world. He had a black dog, and didn’t fear the reaper. He’d been in his iron maiden before, and showed me the scar tissue to prove it. Don’t worry, he said, the first cut is the deepest.
I learned to relax, not be paranoid. I had brass in pocket and knew how to make money on skid row. Yes I was a bit of a youth gone wild, but never really was bad to the bone.
I tried prefab sprouts once, but it only made me hungry like the wolf. So I had to go into my soundgraden and find some red hot chilli peppers to stop my appetite for destruction. It may sound crazy for you, but even though I’ve remained a wildthing, I’ve been in nirvana ever since.
I never fell for the leader of the pack, but did join the black rebel motorcycle club and saw Brian at the jones town massacre. The black angels death song was playing, but now I listen to the black angels sing the boat song.
I got up, stood up, stood up for my rights and took down a big big tree with my small axe. Then me and three little birds had a soul shakedown party because the sun was shining, and the weather was sweet.
I’ve been the wanderer, just like a rolling stone. That’s where I met a black magic woman, and Nina told me I was a sinnerman. That was fine, because I was already a voodoo child. And it was never about the power of love anyway. I was just her part time lover, but we’d always come together.
I was told you can go your own way, free falling, like a free bird, but to always fight for my rights to party.
I heard that mothers little helper can stop her having a 19th nervous breakdown, and if I can’t get no satisfaction, then go and see Ruby Tuesday.
I’m happy Mondays, but Monday I have Friday on my mind because Friday I’m in love, even though I’m easy like Sunday morning.
I have been seen in black velvet, but really I’m forever in blue jeans, with boots that were made for walking, on the bright side of the road.
I ran to the hills, bumped into the preacher man, he was a bohemian with a rapacity and gave me some double talkin’ jive. But I had to tell him I have faith no more, I was losing my religion. And besides, to more people today, god is a DJ. I’m far more comfortable talking with the pixies anyway.
I got the bends once, I was rolling in the deep on a dreadlock holiday. That was after I had breakfast in America. I loved the cranberries and cream.
I’m hot in the city, never a coldplayer, you’ll never catch me living on a prayer and I don’t dig teenage dirtbags, but have been known to do some kung fu fighting. And when the music’s over, I’ll turn out the lights.
I went to the west side to hear a story. The same place where I learned to step in time, and pick a pocket or two.
I’m cool for cats, I love cats, even the stray cats. They take away the moody blues. They were actually the cure for a bad boy named Leroy Brown. He wasn’t that bad anyway, he just got a bit dizzy at times, talking about his generation.
I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name where I found a much talked about oasis, but to be honest, I’d seen it all before. After that I hit the road with Jack and ended up being the passenger in a convoy doing some good old fashion truckin’.
I met a guy, he was a bit slim, and shady, and quite partial to the odd m&m. I asked him how far he’d walked and he told me eight mile. He looked like a a bit of a n.e.r.d. but man, was he fucking hostile. The guy with him was a doctor, he came straight out of Compton.
I wondered, if only the good die young, does that make them the grateful dead, or would they get back if they could?
I thought there was going to be anarchy in the U.K. when I heard the guns of Brixton being drawn. Could I stop the English civil war if I stepped in and told them that them running around like war pigs is the kind of thing that makes doves cry?
I’m a singer in the rain, a rider on the storm, and I’ve moondanced all the way to Uncle Tom’s cabin. I found Molly’s chambers inside. She was a summer girl and her hair was golden brown, with a texture like sun, even when there ain’t no sunshine.
Well I hope I haven’t left you dazed and confused by all of this, it’s been fun sharing the odd day in the life, and I hope I haven’t taken it one step beyond. And if I have, well I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden.
This is the end. :)))

By steveatlarge

Take it easy my friends