#is it a fucked up and wrong case of rabies?

[thefisherqueen]

“Come, Watson, come!” cried Holmes, and we stole as softly as we could through the bushes until we had gained a spot whence we could see the other side of the house, which was bathed in the light of the half-moon. The professor was clearly visible crouching at the foot of the ivy-covered wall. As we watched him he suddenly began with incredible agility to ascend it. From branch to branch he sprang, sure of foot and firm of grasp, climbing apparently in mere joy at his own powers, with no definite object in view. With his dressing-gown flapping on each side of him, he looked like some huge bat glued against the side of his own house, a great square dark patch upon the moonlit wall. 

...what

#what am I reading #still werebeast material but drug induced? #wtf #letters from watson #sherlock holmes #the creeping man #is it a fucked up and wrong case of rabies?

[alovesongtheywrote]

Nightmare Academia P.16 | Spencer Reid x Reader

♥ Summary: In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, a ghost encourages promiscuity. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: ghosts again. also, maeve again.

♥ A/N: ghost subplot my beloved

♥ Word Count: 2252

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

The following night, you and Reid were sitting on the floor of your office.  The book lay between you, open to the handwritten quote.  Your desk was covered with lit candles.  Reid had protested the idea of open flame, but you insisted on it- for the “ambiance.”

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Spencer asked, glaring at you as you fiddled with a little device, “This feels like pseudoscience.”

“You feel like pseudoscience.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know.  Shut up, I’m fiddling.”

Reid shut his mouth, nodding at you, and watching as you switched the spirit box on.  Immediately, a loud blast of radio static filled the room.  You and Spencer both short back from your positions, exclaiming in surprise and mild agony.

“Jesus, shit!” You yelled, frantically turning the volume down until you couldn’t hear anything.

“I’ll take this as a sign that you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Fuck off, Reid.  I know how this works- the box flips through radio stations at a pace too rapid for humans to interfere with.”

“But ghosts can.  Oooo, spooky.”

“And here I thought you’d be a skeptic, Doctor Reid.”

“I am a man of science… I’ve also seen some strange things.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded at you, keeping his eyes on the open book.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.  Apparently you’ve died before, so…”

He nodded again, “Are we doing this, or?”

You brought a finger to the volume switch, but before you turned it up, you paused.  You looked back up at Reid.  He wouldn’t meet your eye.

“You… You can’t keep dropping these things on me.  You investigated a case involving rabies.  You’ve been shot three times, once in the neck.  You’ve died before-”

“Is that not… typical conversation?”

A smile crossed your face as he finally looked at you, “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Ah.  My mistake.” 

“Okay, but seriously, Reid.  You can’t keep dropping these bombs on me- I know you said MIT grads have a history of going nuclear, but oh my god.”

He laughed a little, “So what is it that you want?”

“I want you to elaborate!  It’s getting ridiculous.  I know how to piss you off, and I know your favourite colour is purple, but I don’t know much else about you.”

He paused, “How did you figure out my favourite colour?”

You shrugged, leaning towards him and wrapping your fingers around his purple tie.  You gently pulled him to you, but he fell as if you’d yanked him forward.

“You didn’t make it hard to figure out, Reid.”

He shrugged, sitting up from his odd position on the floor, “Then maybe you can figure out everything else.”

“Okay,” you released his tie, “You don’t want to tell me.  Maybe I’ll just ask the ghosts.”

As you turned the volume up, Spencer’s smile faded.  You cleared your throat.

“Hey there demons, it’s me, ya boi.”

There was no response.  Spencer gave you a look, raising an eyebrow skeptically.  You shook your head at him, waving a hand at him to make him stay quiet.

“Hello?” you started again, “Ghosts?  Ghouls?  Inhabitants of Reid’s book?”

Again, there was no response.

Reid sat up, getting onto his knees and leaning towards the spirit box, “Hello?”

As the word fell from his lips, the box let out a wretched high-pitched screech.  Spencer fell backwards, and you nearly threw the box out the door and into the hallway.  

“Jesus- I can’t tell if the ghosts like you, or if they want you dead more than I do.”

“Or maybe your box is just broken.”

“No, that’s impossible, it can’t be that,” you lied, knowing full well that you purchased your spirit box second-hand on eBay, “The ghosts just hate you, Reid.”

“Wrong.”

A woman’s voice cut through the static, sounding crystal clear and slightly sarcastic.  You looked down at the box, eyes wide with shock and amazement.  Reid also looked at the box, eyes wide with shock and horror.

“Okay then,” you said, smiling as you, too, got to your knees, “I guess the ghosts love you.”

“Better.”

“That confirms it!  The ghosts love you,” you passed him the spirit box, “Here, you do the talking.”

Spencer took it tentatively, “Hi?  Uh, to whatever spirit is haunting my book, could you please… not do that?”

“Mmm… nope.”

“Oh shit,” you giggled, “Sassy ghost.”

“Oh, okay,” Spencer’s fingers tapped against the box, “So… a-about the afterlife, is it- are you okay?”

“Fine… You… Aren’t.”

“Oh shit!  Sassy ghost!” you leaned forward, “Stop bullying him, ghost!  That’s my job!”

“It is.”

“Oh!” You pulled yourself closer to Reid and the book, “She knows me!  Hey, ghost?  Can I ask you a question?”

The ghost didn’t answer.  You took that as a yes.

“Why The Narrative of John Smith?  I mean, it’s an alright book!  A perfectly fine choice!  But was it like, a choice?  Or was it-”

“Choice.  He… Knows.”

You looked up, raising an eyebrow, “Oh?  Does he now?”

Spencer looked at you with wide eyes, holding his hands up in surrender, “I don’t- at least, I don’t think I do.”

“Oh, you don’t think you do.  Well, that makes me sure you know it.”

“How?”

“Spencer, is there anything you don’t know?”

“Your favourite colour.”

You scoffed, opening your mouth to answer him when the spirit box cut you off.

“Green.”

Reid looked at you for confirmation.  You just shrugged.

“Okay ghost,” you reached over, taking the box from Reid.  Your fingers brushed against his.  His skin was cold against yours.  As your hands touched, the box beeped- almost as if the ghost was happy, “Why are you haunting this book?”

“Spencer.”

“Oh,” the colour drained from your cheeks, “Oh, shit.”

Spencer went quiet.  You reached out, placing a hand on his arm.  He jumped a little, but placed one of his hands over yours.

“Are you okay?” you asked, whispering as if that would keep the ghost from hearing you.

“I’m fine.  It’s just- it’s nothing.”

“I wouldn’t call it nothing.  She said your name, that’s freaky.”

“Was it not freaky before?”

“Before I could chalk this up to random coincidence- it would be a stretch, but I could do it.  Now I know she knows your name.”

“It could still be a coincidence.”

You narrowed your eyes at Spencer, tilting your head to the side, “Yeah.  Sure, Spencer.  The ghost has just coincidentally answered all our questions and said your name.  Normal shit.  Average Wednesday!”

“(Y/N)... don’t tell me you’re scared,” he asked with a smirk on his face.

“Spencer,” you growled, “Don’t bully me about this.  And don’t act like you’re not scared.”

“Are you profiling me?” he asked, still smirking.

“Maybe,” you placed the box on the floor beside the book.  Then you turned to face Spencer.  You rolled up his sleeve with your free hand and ran a finger across the veins in his arm.  You tried not to enjoy the act too much.

“Look at all these goosebumps,” you continued, “And you’re paler than any ghost I’ve ever seen.”

“Y’know, I’ve heard that one before, that might just be how I look.”

“Maybe so, but you’re really pale now.  Almost like you’re scared.”

“I promise you, I’m not scared.”

“Are you sure?  You look scared, pretty boy.”

“I- Is this helping you feel better, or something?”

“... Yes.”

Spencer paused for a second.  He removed his arm from your grasp and took one of your hands into one of his own.

“Keep doing it, then.”

Before you could even begin to form a response, the spirit box beeped again.

“Yes!”

You laughed, pulling away from Reid slightly, but leaving your hand in his, “She’s excited.”

“Why-?” Spencer whispered.

“I don’t know, but I’ll take it.  Hey, ghost,” you asked, “If you won’t stop haunting the book, is there anything we can do to… I don’t know, make haunting comfortable for you?  Make you… less likely to throw things at us?”

There was a pause, a few moments of static and then: “Fuck!”

You and Spencer let each other go.  You both got to your knees, hovering over the spirit box with concern- humans man, they’ll pack bond with anything.

“Ghost!  Are you okay!?” You asked, genuinely concerned about the ghost’s wellbeing.

“No!”

“What’s wrong?  Maeve?  Maeve?”

You paused, drawing back and looking at Spencer, “Maeve?”

“No!” The spirit box yelled again- but the ghost didn’t sound too upset.  Honestly, she sounded more stressed than anything else.

“What can we do, ghost?” You asked, “What can we do to help?”

“You… can…” The candles flickered violently before going out in a puff of smoke, “Fuck!”

“What- what’s wrong?” Spencer asked, his voice growing more desperate.  As he reached out for the spirit box, a loud creak rang out from one of the walls.  Your eyes widened as you noticed- one of your bookshelves was leaning away from the wall.

“Reid, look out!” you snatched the book in one hand and tackled Reid with literally every other part of your body.  The two of you rolled out of the way just as the bookshelf collapsed, shattering the spirit box beneath it.

When the dust settled, you were on top of Spencer.

You didn’t even have it in you to be embarrassed about straddling his lap- at least, not at first.  No, your initial concern was his stab wound.  You shifted slightly, drawing a shaky gasp from the man beneath you.  You didn’t even notice.  You had a mission.

Your hands shifted to the edge of his sweater, pushing it up slightly to find the wound beneath.  It took you a second (the man wears a lot of layers) but you were quickly met with the sight of a pristine white bandage surrounded by slightly irritated skin.

Once you were sure Spencer wasn’t going to bleed to death, you let yourself collapse forward on his chest, letting out a sound of pure relief as you did.

“(Y/N)- “

“Are you okay?  I-it didn’t look like you tore your stitches, but if something’s wrong, I can drive you to the hospital-”

“Hey, I’m fine-” he said, cautiously wrapping his arms around your back, “I promise, I’m fine.”

“You swear you’re okay?” you asked, propping yourself up with one arm so you could see his face, “You’re not just saying it to get me to calm down?”

“I swear.  I’m fine.  Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just fucking terrified right now.  Is the book okay?  I’m scared to look.”

“The- the book?” Spencer sat up with you, looking at The Narrative of John Smith, still clutched in your shaking hand, “You saved the book?”

“Well, yeah.  I mean, I’m not a profiler, but I know that it means something to you,” you placed your free hand on his chest, keeping yourself steady as you held up the book, “I wasn’t gonna risk hurting it.”

“I- You-”

“What?” you tilted your head and put the book down safely, “I might be a bitch, but I’m not evil.”

You let your spare hand drift to the book’s cover.  Your fingers ran the title.  You were so focused on your little task that you didn’t see Spencer looking at you as if you’d hung the moon and stars in the sky.  

He opened his mouth to say something, to thank you, or confess his undying love, or whatever, but you cut him off.

“I’m not stupid, either.  You worked for the FBI.  You know how to hide a body.  And they’d never suspect you- not only are you a genius, you’re former FBI.  You have friends, they’d cover for you, so if I ever piss you off too much-”

You didn’t get another word out.  Spencer pulled you close to him and wrapped his arms around you.  You hesitated for a split second before you embraced him back.  You buried your face in his chest, wrapping yourself around him as tightly as you dared to.  You could feel his heart racing in his chest.  The sound was a comfort to you.  

Spencer was okay, uncrushed, and not bleeding.  He hadn’t died in your office.  He was alive, and in your arms, and you were both safe.

After a minute, you pulled apart, finally moving to stand.  You turned, slightly, taking in the damage to your office.

“Honestly?  It’s not too bad.  I didn’t have any glass on that shelf.  Just books.  It’ll be a bitch to clean up, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhmm.  It’ll be fi-”

Before you could finish, the lights in your office began to flicker.  Violently.  You stepped back towards Spencer just as he reached out and pulled you towards him.  The two of you stood in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around each other, watching the lights turn on and off.

“So.  I think my office is haunted.”

“Do you want to work out of mine?”

“Sorry?”

“While you deal with the ghost problem-” Spencer pulled you out of the way as a book flew off the shelf towards you.  The momentum spun you around, making you face him, “Do you want to work out of my office?”

The lights turned off for a final time.  Your hands stretched into the dark, stopping when they found Reid’s shoulders.  You held on for dear life, waiting for your eyes to adjust. 

“Even if I didn’t want to, I think the ghost just said ‘Yes.’”

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, @ghostatrixx, @reiding-writing, @mywellspringoflife, @80katie, @ms-ks-world, if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know :D

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #nightmare academia

[justaduckarts]

I wanna try to compliment the SH fic in the least spoilery way possible but i will most likely fail but WOOO TIME FOR A RANT

Starting off, Star Holder

Everyone is so worried that Eclipse or Pluto will manipulate them when Aurelia has already done that. She's the reason why they are so traumatized and meek and so easily gullible. And now here they are, in between several gods while they are all pulling on different limbs in different directions trying to tell them to go their way and to not listen to the others. I don't blame Star Holder for being so god damn anxious about every single conversation. Every conversation could literally end up in a war if they say something wrong.

Lunar!

That cheeky fuck. I love him so much hes such an asshole(/aff). He's just a silly guy doing silly things and he might want to kill you but it's okay because he's just a silly guy! His back story is tragic and perfectly explains why he is the way he is. I also love how open he is to his plans. Is he using you? Yes, but at least he's honest about it. A true gentleman.

Moon

God damn. That's all I can say. Just- damn.

Okay but in all seriousness Moon is great. Maybe not great to others (after hearing what Pluto said about the star-) but he's a great character. Very anti-social and quiet but he can have fun if he wants to. *quiet chanting* Moon in a dress! Moon in a dress! Sorry, my demons. Anyway. He's definitely trying his best, but he's not very good at it. E for effort, F for execution.

Sun. Dear lord Sun-

Again, he's trying. He just has no fucking clue what he's doing. He's incredibly oblivious it's almost painful. I don't know if I want to give him a hug or slap him. I could do both. Hug then slap. That'd be nice. But anyway, he's very interesting but after learning more about his past I just keep thinking "hypocrite". Talking about how Eclipse is trying to manipulate Star Holder (which he may have at first) only for the star, but he made the star for the purpose of controlling his own brother. That doesn't seem fucked up to him I guess. Of course there's reasonings but it's still so incredibly wrong. But I think that's enough about Sun.

Pluto

Oh how I love her. She seems like the only one (besides Eclipse) who truly cares about Star Holder and doesn't want to use them. The moment Sun and Moon found out that the star was growing they immediately jumped to "we need to know how to use it." Though, Eclipse also seems to have a similar thought process, so he's not much better. Is it possible that Pluto is using Star Holder? Maybe. But lets be honest, so many gods are trying to use them that you can barely even tell which ones are actually sincere of their promise that they care. She is so lovely though. I love how she is actually trying to give them the choice of using the star for good and not just using it to control people (as it was originally intended) She seems genuinely good and it'd be devastating to find out that she isn't... concrete turning noises to stare at my angst loving self. Anyway.

Eclipse

He's my babygirl and no one can tell me otherwise. He is a pathetic traumatized stray cat that everyone thinks has rabies but is actually just starving and wanting love and affection. Okay! But in all seriousness! I love him. The more we find out about his past the more we realize "maybe the good guys aren't as good as we thought." They accused him of murder and didn't even let him explain. Sun didn't even try to use his gift? Although, Lunar did say that it's harder to use the gift when upset so I guess that makes sense. But I'm still annoyed cause I'm a whiny bitch. They seem to just never give Eclipse any slack or any benefit of the doubt. Though, we still don't know his entire story, so there is still likely something that changed things a lot (besides Moon's mother's death.)

I'm gonna stop here since I could go on forever. TBH all my thoughts of the characters could be totally wrong in my perception of them. If that's the case, I formally apologize, I don't think much as is so when I do it's not always the best thing. BUT YEAH. THESE ARE MY THOUGHTS. If you want more there is plenty where this comes from just say the word and I'll flood your ask box again with an entire tangent.

Anyway, this is Birdcage signing off dramatic bow

skips away like a goofy goober

Hello!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Thank you so much this was so sweet. I love hearing people's thoughts and theories on the story and acvsgvsgvdth MAN. I don't want to give too much away. I will say that things are about to get interesting *looks at Saturday's chapter*

Anyway, thank you so so much!! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I love getting asks so feel free to share your thoughts whenever (I may take some time to reply).

#justaduckarts answers #star holder au #sobbing #thank you so much

[elvisgrace]

💌 | Forget about sims, lets learn about YOU! Tell us one fact about yourself, and then send this to 5 other Simblrs to do the same 👽

Several years ago, when my bbs were still actually babies, we rented a cabin for a week with my parents, my baby brother, and my sister in the Appalachian mountains.

It's late at night, and I head upstairs to pop my head in to make sure all the pocket-sized ones are still asleep and don't need anything.

1st step - Oh hey, a shadow

2nd step - Kinda weird that on this entire stair case only one riser has a shadow

3rd step - Also too, based on light directionality, that shadow is totally wrong

4th step - Is that a sock stuck there through static cling?

5th step - Is that a face?

6th step - Are those WINGS???

7th step - Is that a motherfucking BAT staring directly at me???

6th step - That is very definitely a motherfucking BAT staring directly at me

5th step - oh god

4th step - oh shit

3rd step - oh fuck

2nd step - oh god oh shit oh fuck

1st step - ohgodohshitohfuckohgodohshitohfuckohgodohshitohfuck

At the bottom of the stairs, I'm trying to regroup and figure out what the hell to do, the most basic, rudimentary, non-standard life skills I knew at this point in my life came from my girl scout years lost in the mists of time, and very most definitely included no knowledge on what to do if confronted by a motherfucking BAT.

Things I vaguely knew about bats*, gleaned by osmosis through pop culture a) bats hate bright light b) they prefer to avoid people c) bats hate loud noises d) bats carry rabies 5) bats are probably definitely nocturnal supernatural creatures from Transylvania

Conclusion: This bat has been hanging out in this brightly lit stairwell, just chilling while the constant bedlam only small children can produce rages around him. This bat is not WELL, he is not RIGHT, he is going to give us all the rabies and grin while doing so.

I'm trying to alert my mom and brother to the situation unfolding without startling the bat and setting it off, so I'm emphatically whispering it at them. My mom has had a couple of glasses of wine at this point though, so she isn't picking up what I'm putting down, and I keep repeating myself to the point I'm whisper screaming at her and and whisper hysterically laughing, because at this point my emotional responses have done what I already should have, which is to say, fucked right off.

I grab her arm in exasperation to lead her to the stairs and point at it and she just. doesn't. see. it. I have to lead her up to the 5th step before she finally sees it at which point she yells "Hey it's a bat!" And I whisper scream "What are you doing? Are you trying to get us rabies-bat-murdered?!?!?"

I go to the kitchen to look up Animal Control, and I hear her and my brother discussing strategies for getting rid of it. I'm trying to tell them to let Animal Control deal with it, but for whatever reason they've decided to stand their ground against the bat (the reason is wine).

Their weapons of choice? A WICKER BREAD BASKET AND A COAT HANGER.

**

So once I've realized how committed they are to this terribly stupid course, I just ask them to wait long enough for me to barricade my kids in their rooms, because unlike their grandmother and uncle***, I am not here for toddlers getting rabies-bat-murdered.

We're locked away, and I hear crashing, thumping, and shouting going on, and after eons later my brother came to tell me they got it. Evidently they managed to get it in the basket and sling it out an open window, at which point they heard a tiny plop from the driveway. However, the next morning the driveway was empty. No doubt that to this day that bat is planning his rabies-bat-murdery revenge.

This is also the trip where the moment I got home, I had to immediately turn around and go back, because my daughter left her special teddy bear there, a 5 hour round trip.

*This is in no way scientific or accurate, and I'm pretty sure I Mandela effected most of it.

**Not the actual items in question, just a reference.

***Their grandmother was probably not there for toddlers getting rabies-bat-murdered. She was there for getting back to her very first ever episode of Criminal Minds. Their poor beleaguered uncle was there for minimizing the absolute fuckery that inevitably ensues when Oma gets an idea.

#i dont even know #my mind is blanking on facts about me #so you get anecdotes

[sunscreenstudies]

Iconic Things My Coding Professors Have Said (Part 8)

student "but how does this not cause problems?"   prof "ohhhhhhh no, it causes SO many problems"

"which is completely impossible to do in five weeks but we're going to do it anyway to showcase our awesomeness"

"if you recall, we previously examined this model using the examples of ice cream and murder"

"So, say you had two tweets you wanted to examine, let’s say... ‘joe biden bit donald trump’ and ‘donald trump bit joe biden’. you wouldn’t say that these are the same thing, right? right, of course not, because as much as trump would deserve it, biden could get rabies or something and nobody wants that"

"most of these things are related to food or sex which is ironic because those should never be combined in real life. never. do you hear me? n e v e r"

"so in the early 1960s, this guy revolutionized - or destroyed, if you like - the way that corpora were examined. and i do like. he seriously fucked things up"

"i don't have anything against philosophers. i was a philosopher myself in a past life"

"Chomsky did a lot of big important things for computational linguistics but a lot of his basic underlying assumptions are just... wrong"

"he tried to rewrite all of his old texts later in his lifetime, where he tried to remove all stranded prepositons... i don't know about you, but I can think of better uses of my time"

prof "what do you do in sklearn for this?" students look confused. prof looks nervous "i actually can't think of it myself, that's why I'm asking"

“there was actually a study done a few years ago about how often advertising companies commit fraud. so, let’s give a show of hands. who thinks that ads only lie 25% of the time? hands up... nobody? oh, thank god. you may all be cynics, but at least you're a promising bunch"

"There are only two ways of displaying data in statistics. there are lies and then there are BIG lies”

prof "have you heard anything that was used with this word in the past?"   student "yes, but i don't want to repeat it"   prof "yea, there's a ton of sexual stuff going around"

"when examining how many covid-affected people had symptoms of long covid, the scientists used a facebook group to find people to ask. but they used a facebook group created specifcially for people suffering from long covid, and asking the long covid group how many of them have long covid is just... mind blowingly stupid"

"In the LGBT...P...Q...C...H? I don’t know anymore. In the alphabet soup of queers-"

prof "i'm just rushing through these things because that’s all i can do here given that we only have 5 minutes left"   student "actually we have 35 mintues, we finish at half past, not on the hour"   prof "... let me clarify. we only have 5 minutes left where my sanity will remain intact. what happens after that, i have no control over"

"but it's better than HTML in any case, which is full of problems... quite like my marriage, actually, but at least I know that HTML won't cheat on me. ANYWAY"

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Part 9  | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

#compsci #computer sciene #studyblr #compblr #funny professors #funny college

[shiteating]

shinarei is really really really good i think.

cell of empireo routes EDCB and S+, dlc spoilers (fyi, stuff from a part of the dlc that isn't translated yet, nothing super major though)

just an informal post from me. gets a little embarrassing too. gushing about things is a little painful when you are full of love.

but basically, like, i think there exists to be an argument (hypothetical? idk i don't hang out with any fans) that shinarei could fall into pair the spares territory... which is certainly untrue. i just do not think that it has no basis. it's not particularly deep or anything but i do think it is a fits like a glove situ. anyway, at least i'm not the one pairing up family members. (charged statement? tbh not really, my opinion would not change regardless of whether or not an alternative exists... i just do not fw step-whatever ships and i view them as incest. it is my own preference.)

on the relationship between shinano and atou in coe

since the game kind of flip flops on when the rakusou park rabies case happened (though the second half of the game seems to consistently date it around march 2015 so i'll begrudgingly consider that despite it being a very small timeframe), i think that regardless of how long shinano was under atou's care, it is an important relationship in the long run with respects to this post. while shinano was heavily influenced by origin beta seeking origin alpha out it IS a huge point for shinano that one cannot seperate their old and current and future selves so easily so, even as an existence that straddled the line between origin beta and shinano, i think shinano->atou is a highly valid interpretation. i think tina's instinct "to protect", pochi's instinct "to seek out the origin" and shinano's instinct of "atou-san, atou-san" getting all muddled up created some kind of insane peak yandere. i think the main point here is that for most of the game— reiji had gone off so is missing for a good chunk of the game, shinano is present until chapter 5 then disappears, so the two essentially have no real knowledge of each other. atou tells shinano about reiji in the past tense. he tells reiji about shinano being missing in action but there isn't really the gravity in the current situation to elaborate (ironically because origin beta is still running around). also i think it's really funny that atou immediately discounts that shinano could be beta when ibuki brings it up... anyway this is all preamble really.

starting off on the wrong, no, perhaps the worst foot (paw?) possible

so reiji goes yeah imma kidnap you, atou haruki, and be done with it. honestly, who knows how the plot could have gone if shinano had not appeared in this moment... really, whether it was beta pulling him towards alpha or shinano just happened to come across them at the worst moment, it's still an amazing fucking scene. like, one may wring their hands over whether or not this is yandere, but people have called other characters yandere over literal nothing. SO WHATEVER. my post my interpretation. honestly, it's really fucking good. the way shinano is laser focused on atou, atou-san come here, atou-san, atou-san while reiji is on the other side making quips in lieu of atou who is on shock, it's a tense scene that i can't criticize at all really. SHINANO MY GOAT!!!! literally my favorite line in the entire game btw:

at this point shinano and reiji could not be more diametrically opposed in terms of goal, reiji's being to retrieve atou for sanemitsu and shinano's being an open ended one of "protecting", and who knows how that could even end when at least half of the instinct is coming from what is essentially stem cell rabies and chronic dog brain. it doesn't help they lack context on said stances... in S, this is the end of their adversarial relationship, but if you miss enough flags you basically guarantee that reiji is getting killed by shinano. i think this is actually a really important aspect of shinarei. because..... i really like all the cannibalism fanart... shinano is cute so if he wants to take a chunk out of reiji he is free to do so. i don't have to argue about how cannibalism is inherently homoerotic. IT'S NOT JUST ME! if you see any artists on twitter who dabble in this shit they have definitely drawn it at least once. really, it's becoming rare to have an excuse to draw something like this without going full AU, so fukao... thank you. shinarei is mostly a diabetes ship, but the fact that there is also this macabre side to it is part of the appeal imo. also fulfills the game's "earn your happy ending" element. it's so good~~~~

shinano and reiji are impossibly dorky "but somehow it doesn't cross into otaku cringe" -known shinano fan who excuses anything he says (not me lol why would you think this)

at the time of the dlc, in summer of 2018— its "shinano-shi"!!

how INCREDIBLY dorky!!! i almost didn't pick up on it. you first see it when sanemitsu picks up a note from reiji about atou and shinano visiting— for some reason i assumed it was the formal usage, which was pretty dumb of me to be honest, i genuinely questioned why it'd be like that after three years before i realized it wasn't a stuffy "-shi" but more like how otakus address each other with the nuance of "comrade". to be honest, i've seen the examples of otaku using "-dono" way more often so i didn't realize right away. it's cute not only because it follows the thoroughline of "since S+, shinano and reiji have continued to get along" but also because i feel like this kind of otaku slang has LONG fallen out of favor, it is a stereotype among stereotypes, but reiji is not a normal person at all and i would not be surprised if he just heard it somewhere and picked it up on a whim. i mean, when your dad writes in occult magazines he is probably bumping elbows with some very strange people.

there's not much to discuss in terms of reiji engaging with shinano's hobbies and actively getting into ditasword, but it is cute, cute cute cute. sickeningly cute. how cute can it get?!?!!! this cute:

tying up loose ends

on the age difference

there's like, a good 4, 5 year age difference?

i guess one thing there would be hand wringing over is the age difference— usually depending on the context, how things shake out is based on your own interpretation... though i think between adults it's kinda "who cares" for me. at any rate, it's not like they're breaching into a relationship right off the bat, imo there is a strong preference for onesided reiji->shinano on my end and there's a good three years until the dlc/interlude/com deadline. just straight up having a massive crush but not being sure of what it means. i like how sanemitsu said that it's nice that reiji made a friend his age after so long, atou is like "he's not though", but they shrug it off and go "well shinano's childish anyway". though i think there is a certain coolness factor in shinano that reiji sees that the others don't see!!!! do you understand!!!! also how is it any different from the classic "crushing on an older girl"!!!!! anyway, shinano's happy to have someone he can talk to about his hobbies aside from akane. anyway 25 vs 29 is a pretty nice diff actually. its kinda who cares.

on the contrast

for all intents on purposes despite being a private detective and getting wrapped up with empyrean, of all of rakuen, i think shinano has the strongest image of a civilian. perhaps even among the entire cast in coe. reiji... is very much not a civilian!!! he lives with mercs and does insane paranormal investigations as a lifestyle!!! there is nothing civilian or normal about that...!!! i think the gap in daily life is very good, and despite everything shinano's suspension of disbelief is probably top tier. he will fit in right away if reiji introduced him to LDL. theodore on suicide watch

shinano deserves to be happy

this series has too many widows and widowers. ENOUGH!!!

element of long distance dating

shinano moves back to tokyo after coe is over (as opposed to him treking to nagoya to seek atou out) and reiji is living in italy. i'm sure reiji is probably going to japan a lot anyway but likeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!like!!!!!!!!

atou hates it

^olympic gold medalist in homophobia won by a gay man who has been emotionally married to the same guy since middle school, more at 8.

no but really, he really can't with the otaku stuff, now his coworker has turned his step brother into an otaku or made it more apparent, not to mention all the potential PDA, i have to pray for him a bit. well at least he has less to worry about in the "if shinano stands next to me in public for more than 1 second what if people think i'm gay" <-it's ok when rui does it though.

sanemitsu would love it however!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! theodore would probably hate it...though... i think he would wish death on any couple so

addressing potential bias

for reference other pairs i like: ninayou, atourui (reverse is fine.), i respect kanoato but don't engage, hajiyuki, [REDACTED] <-spoilers that dont even exist yet, dont ask me anything about it

strong dislike for shipping reiji with family.

#i didnt tag it but if it shows up in coe search then open your eyes and read my scripture

[dragoncarrion]

Why should cats not be outdoors?

ohohooh

so theres like a MILLION reasons but im just going to rapidfire them

extremely dangerous for the cat. people, dogs, ticks, illnesses, getting lost, cars, other cats, anything. EVEN if you live in say the Uk where there are no coyotes, a ton of other dangers are still present. hell even anti freezer (which can taste sweet to cats) is lethal even in small doses

if your cat isn't fixed, and especially if its a male, it could contribute to the feral cat population (BAD BTW) since outdoor cats have a way lower quality of life than an indoors cat (see point number one, and also lack of veterinary care, the food, ticks, fleas, illness, injury, etc) also cats can be transmitters of toxoplasmosis which while isnt usually dangerous to humans, it can spread to lots of other animals and can cause reproductive failure to sheep, and i think in hawaii seals could get infected with bacteria from cat feces iirc? also RABIES. ITS DANGEROUS TO YOU AND TO YOUR PETS AND WILDLIFE. PLEASE

following this one up: the impact cats have on local ecosystem is astounding. ONLY in the US cats kill around 2.4 BILLION BIRDS every year, making them one of if not THE biggest man related threat to birds, and thats not counting other smaller animals they kill. Even if you insist you cat doesnt kill the birds, cat salive is toxic to them, and just mere cat presence can lead to unnecessary stress and wasting energy. there was an experiment with blackbird nests i think which used a taxidermy cat by placing it near the nesting site, and according to that, just the parents believing there to be a potential threat led to less feeding the chicks. and if youre wondering why its bad that cats kill all these birds since other predators do it let me make a little analogy for ya: lets pretend we have a pair of perfectly balanced scales of an ecosystem: prey and predator. with the thousands or even millions of cats added to the predator side of the scale, its unbalanced since they are NOT meant to be there (introduced invasive species) competing with the local predators that already fill that niche and reducing prey populations. its even worse in isolated islands. here is an article that talks about a case like this

if you really believe its inhumane to keep cats indoors then guess what, ENRICHMENT EXISTS!!! FOR DOMESTICATED ANIMALS!!! WHO WOULDVE THUNK! toys, playing with your pet, catios, or hell, even leash training your cat are viable options that both keep your cat and the ecosystem safe, aint that great? another thing to keep in mind: cats. are. not. humans. anthropomorphizing animals is uhhh not GREAT. for example social media likes to portray "smiling monkeys" as happy (projecting and assigning human emotion onto them) when in reality this expression is not a positive one AT ALL, usually used to indicate stress or fear. you can probably see the issue with pushing the "oh he wants to be free" sentiment into a fucking cat

im probably missing a couple of things, and some of these are from the top of my head that i previously researched so there may also be a few small errors, but its still overall like the biggest reasons why outdoor cats are simply bad. irredeemable. even if you have never known this was wrong thats ok, many of us grow up with things we dont really question after a while (like outdoor cats), as long as we put effort into change. and no this doesnt mean you can go "but my aunt had an outdoor cat that lived until 10!" (anecdotal fallacy) since probably tons of other people can also say "i have to replace my outdoor cat every 3 years since he keeps getting hit by cars and eaten by coyotes"

#ask box #WOHH. LONG #but anyways dont let your cats outside please and thank you #i hope i dont come off as too pretentious or anything i just wish more people knew about this instead of being british #NEVER look for the outdoor cat topic in british forums worst mistake of my life. people there are IDIOTIC #stuff like this is why they should teach the BASICS like BASICS of how ecosystems and animals work as schools #for the love of god

[disillusionedjudge]

✏️ + Gabranth and Drace

Eᴠᴇɴ Mᴏʀᴇ Iɴᴄᴏʀʀᴇᴄᴛ Qᴜᴏᴛᴇs Gᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀ! @tarnishedxknight ((tagging you to give you entertainment during your recovery sfgjhdf))

Drace: Yesterday, I overheard Gylfie saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Gabranth replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

—–

*The Squad is on a hike* Drace: It’s beautiful out here. Gylfie: And quiet. Drace: Too quiet. Gylfie: Did we lose someone? *cut to Gabranth with a bear in a headlock*

—–

Gylfie: *double checking supplies in the boat* Compass. CB radio. Sunscreen. Gabranth: Hot dog costumes! Gylfie: I’m sorry, what? Gabranth: You know, in case we get lost at sea, and one of us, probably Drace, goes mad with hunger, we’ll put these on. Drace hates hot dogs, so they probably won’t eat us. Gylfie: Are you saying that Drace would rather eat us than hot dogs? Drace: I do hate hot dogs.

—–

Drace: I was voted “friendliest classmate” in high school. Gabranth: I was voted “most likely to become a clown”… Gylfie: You think that’s bad? HA! I was voted “most likely to get rabies”!

—–

Gylfie: I dare you to kiss the next person who walks into this room. Gabranth: Screw that, I’m not kissing any of you. *Drace walks in* Gabranth: Fine, I’ll do it. Rules are rules you know.

—–

Drace, to Gylfie: If you see Gabranth, give them this message *makes a neutral face* Drace: They'll know what it means. *later* Gylfie: oh, and Drace said to give you a message. Gylfie: *makes a neutral face* Gabranth: Oh no. The neutral face of displeasure.

—–

Drace: *yawns* Gabranth: Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring. Drace: Then you must be exhuasted. Gylfie: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely.

—–

Gabranth: Protip is you do not feel good about yourself after eating tomato sauce on iceberg lettuce. Drace: What's wrong with you?? Gabranth: I literally JUST said I ate tomato sauce on iceberg lettuce?? Pay attention. Gylfie: No, they mean other than that. Gabranth: Ohhhhhh. Gabranth: I haven't slept in 4 days.

—–

Gylfie: Hey, Drace, are you free on Friday? Like around eight? Drace: Yeah. Gylfie: And you, Gabranth? Gabranth: Umm... yes? Gylfie: Great! Because I'm not. You two go out without me. Enjoy your date! Gabranth: Did they just-

—–

Gylfie: Gabranth- Gabranth: *sighs* Drace used to call me Gabranth... Gylfie: ...Because it's your fucking name.

#incorrect quotes

[asphaltvalkyrie]

Disclaimer: I fucking love vaccinations. I think anti-vaxxers are a literal plague upon this earth. Holy fuck just read about rabies and polio and smallpox and diptheria and tetanus and measles and a dozen other debilitating diseases and holy shit man get your goddamn vaccinations and vaccinate your kids and your pets too FFS.

Its also worth adding that I'm an essential worker (vet medicine) - I never got a single day of quarantine time and worked through the whole pandemic. I also wore a mask every day.

But... I just have to vent a bit. I had a reaction to the COVID vaccine - the initial one was fine, but each of the 2 boosters I got had me bedridden for days with a high fever, severe body aches and dizziness so bad I could barely stand.

Then I actually got COVID last March - it lasted longer than the vaccine reaction, but was only a fraction as painful. I'd gladly take the 7 days of mild discomfort that actual COVID gave me over the 2-3 days of agony the vaccine put me through.

But, state and federal programs paid for all of the time off from work I had to take during both of those periods, so I didn't have to worry too much either way - it was worth getting the vaccine.

But those programs are no longer in place.

Because I had such a bad reaction to the vaccine and didn't want to miss any more work (I only get two paid sick days PER YEAR,) I've really been dragging my heels on getting the new updated vaccine just in case I react to it like I did the old one. Can you blame me?

But now I have COVID again. And I have to miss a full week of work, which is more than the 2-3 days I'd have missed from getting the vaccine. Again, its just mild discomfort, but

I just think its a little fucked up that I have to suffer both physically and financially for whatever decision I make, wrong or right.

That said, the right decision is getting vaccinated and I'll be getting the new vaccine once I'm over this bout and can afford to miss 2 more days of work, that is.

#covid #covid19 #personal #anti-vaxxers fuck off #you can support something and still be annoyed by its necessity

[moemammon]

Headcanons for the boys with a feral mc?

The Demon Bros with a Feral MC

(MC has only three brain cells labeled chomp, bite, and kill)

Lucifer

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me

Diavolo what have you done have you never seen a normal human before wh-

He's so tired,,, why the hell is this human screeching so loudly,, are humans even supposed to make sounds like that,,,

You're screaming. Mammon is screaming. Everyone is screaming. Diavolo is laughing. Lucifer is considering a career change.

Mammon

Bro why is this human looking at him like th-

The first to be attacked. Why though?? You fucking launch yourself toward Mammon and all he can do is screech in horror when you bite his sleeve and refuse to let go.

What kind of human ARE you?!?!?!? You have the teeth of a piranha and fingernails that're jagged enough to be called talons. He wants to know what HOLE you crawled out of

HUMANS DO NOT FOAM AT THE MOUTH WHATS HAPPENING LUCIFER DO SOMETHING

Levi

Media makes it seem like an encounter with a primitive creature from another realm would be something like a lighthearted romcom, but you prove that fantasy wrong right away

You're no feral love interest, you're a fucking raccoon in a human suit and he's NOT interested in the slightest.

Now you're attacking Mammon, and Levi is torn between recording the fight and getting away so he won't fall victim to your biting and clawing.

Both. He's going to do both. Roflmaooo this'll be GREAT on deviltube

Satan

Of all the things he read about humans, you were definitely not what he expected to drop out of that portal-

Interested for a good two minutes while he watches you eviscerate Mammon. Maybe they can keep you as a weird human pet?

Where did Diavolo even find you though?? The Siberian wilderness???

It's almost as if you know he'll obliterate you if you come near him, so you keep your distance and he's free to observe the chaos from afar.

Asmo

Ew,,, why are you so dirty and spitting everywhere,,

What a huge turn off! He's all for a little aggression, but you seem like a literal wild animal and he's 99% sure you have fleas

Finds it hilarious that you went for the scummiest brother first, but now your gaze has turned his way and he's fucking RUNNING

That encourages you like some sort of evil dog, and now you're chasing him and he's screaming-

Beel

Since you're more like an animal than anything, does that mean Beel gets to eat you? 🤔

He's hoping that's the case. It's been forever since he's eaten a human. Though the look on Lucifer's face tells him he might not be able to...

Also prepared to grab you if you start going crazy, but apparently attacking Mammon isn't crazy enough because he's legit just watching

THEN you go after Asmo and that's when he intervenes, picking you up by the scruff like some kind of jungle creature with rabies. Still giving Lucifer the 'can I eat it?' look ngl

Belphie

Thank god he's in the attic lmao. Y'all hear sumn?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #shall we date? obey me! #obey me mammon #obey me belphegor #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphie #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me writing #obey me fanfic #obey me shitposts #obey me crack #obey me meme #obey me memes

[mocharadio]

Now Playing(Title): Touching Their Boobas! (Headcanons)

Requested By: @polluxminor

Song Artists(Characters): Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao, and Beidou

Remix(Au): Modern Au! cause why not

Lyrics(Summary): Their reaction to you just randomly squeezing their boobs ?????? gn!reader by the way, but pronouns aren't really mentioned regardless

Explicit?(Warnings): No beta we die like Khaenri'ah, lowercase, suggestive (but nothing more than that!), they/them used for Kaeya, Beidou, and Xiao, slightly ooc but I feel like they'd act differently in a modern setting anyways

A/N: consider this to be crack, also this is under the impression that you are already their s/o (or at least their bestie) and they're fine with you doing this because it would be....very much weird if that wasnt the case!

Kaeya:

he just looks at you for a few seconds and blinks like three times in a row

you swear you can hear the blinking sound effects as he does it too

then they let out their stupid, toothy smirk and start laughing at you

"Damn shawty, you down THAT bad?"

starts squeezing their tiddies himself and talks about how nice they are

can and will defend them with his life. ESPECIALLY if you take it back and call them flat. expect all hell to break loose.

will probably bring up his ass at some point too

"Got tha fattest ass on the block babey"

please shut this guy up.

Diluc

doesnt even realize whats going on at first

like Kaeya he'll just kinda stare at you for a few seconds before it finally hits him

like a truck, too

"[Name], why are your hands on my chest"

"Man tiddies."

"I see."

he'll never tell you upfront but it flusters him a lot

as soon as you aren't paying attention to him anymore his face gets all red and he has to put a hand over his heart to make sure his HR is stable so he doesn't collapse and die

do it more often! eventually he'll crack and you'll be able to see how embarrassed he gets! its really cute :]

Childe

dont. you'll regret it

im serious this man is so extra for no reason

he can and will fake moan out loud. doesnt matter where you guys are.

in the middle of walmart? he'll moan. in your college dorm with the door cracked open and people in the halls? he'll still fake moan! he doesnt care if professor Zhongli or Albedo hears either, it is what it is.

generally speaking though he doesn't really mind, he's flattered actually!

you on the other hand will probably mind very much when it gets you kicked out of Starbucks or extra homework from your professors.

will grab your chest back though (only if you're fine with it)

Zhongli

poor peepaw.

he's so confused he doesn't know why you're just groping him like that

he thinks there's something wrong, like you're silently pleading for help or you wanna kill him.

he grabs you by the shoulders and asks if everything is alright.

yeah???? everything's okay your tits are just fat Zhongli please calm down

after he realizes you just wanted to grope him he sighs out of relief and lets you go to town

unless you don't wanna anymore, then he's cool with that too

Xiao

run. run as fast and as far away as you fucking can

they will chase your ass across the goddamn country if needed

dropkicks you (playfully)

he genuinely doesnt mind it at all it just caught him off guard and flustered them and they needed to cope somehow

after he's done attacking you like a rabies ridden raccoon though he'll calm down and just snuggle themself into your chest (if you're fine with it)

grumbles some shit like "stop being horny all the time" and "you cant just do that to me"

doesn't really mean it of course

Beidou

"This is why mom doesn't FUCKING LOVE YOU!"

in all seriousness though I feel like they'd laugh their ass off before (consensually) groping the fuck out of your chest too

she's so nonchalant about it as if you do it every single day

which you probably do, after that

teases you nonstop over it.

one day you accidentally grope them a little to hard and they just gently pick you up and tosses you onto the nearest soft surface

then she jumps onto you

small price to pay for hurting her tatas

#genshin impact modern au #genshin impact college au #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #beidou x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin headcanons #adeptus xiao #xiao #zhongli #childe #tartaglia #beidou #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya #kaeya alberich #[☕] requests #[☕] writings

[incorrect-mha-bnha]

BNHA HEADCANNONS again

Eri holds anual tea parties with everyone but banned Bakugou for “a thousand eternities” because he kept getting into bickering matches with her stuffed animals on who was the better princess.

Kaminari can, in fact, cook and bake. You can’t tell me I’m wrong because I also hc him as a huge stoner. The same with Sero. Those boys be cooking and whippin in the kitchen. Case closed.

Much like Star Lord, I believe Dabi would be one to wear headphones and carry around a cassette tape while he destroys things. People screaming and havoc being caused but it’s all muffled by his tunes. He even dances around as he works.

Mitsuki is the kind of woman to bark at men that catcall her. You can’t say I’m wrong, because I’m not. She would have no shame barking at some sleazebag that passes a rather suggestive demeaning comment her way thinking he’d get away scotch free and have a laugh over it with his sexist buddies— WELL HED BE WRONG because as soon as she hears some punk yell “Nice (insert sexist joke)!” She’d stop, turn his way slowly and start barking as shown.... “BARK BARK RUFF AWOOOO GRRRR BARK BARK BARK!” And the man would literally die on the spot. Gone. A queen. A badass. What a woman.

During that scene in the sports festival where they brought out Bakugou in chains and a muzzle like some villain rather than a teenage child. You know the one— yeah you do. Anyway. He was having an PTSD attack about the slime villain. Tell me I’m wrong. His mouth was covered and he was restrained. It was NOT very long after it either. What were they thinking? Trick question. The whole hero system is trash.

(CW: Vore) I personally think the most twisted hero turned villain scenario would be Tamaki. He eats things to gain power in his quirk.... I think you know where this is going. Imagine finding out a villain literally eating heroes and random civilians to gain their quirks? Wack

Back on my partially blind Todoroki hc. Due to his impaired vision, he tends to stand with his right side towards the opponent as to keep them in his sights and guard blind spots.

When Bakugou gets lonely, he will set off tiny explosions like fireworks that remind him of younger days when him and his friends would attend festivals and run around with sparklers.

I do like the Latin Sero hc so along those lines... you cannot tell me he wouldn’t chase anyone around the dorms with a chancla over something. It’s about as scary as an Aizawa woken up mid nap. He could chuck it a 100 yards and away and still hit you square in the head. Sero is so scary with a chancla, even Bakugou won’t attempt to fuck with him. *Starts yelling* *Sero comes out of nowhere with a sandal in his hand* “Are you yelling at Midoriya again?” *Bakugou looks up then slowly turns away and stalks off grumbling*

Izy is blasian (I don’t know if that’s the correct terminology for the mix) and will from this point on be known as Dekquan on this blog and to me. My mind is Astral in this bitch today. So many hc and thoughts. Hair care products, routines, ethnicity to learn from, SO MUCH. I also hc Mina as black, gods and her know how much of a struggle that boy will go through to take care of his hair.

Listen... I love the Bakusquad.... but they really aren’t exactly feral. Dekquansquad is immensely chaotic in terms of actions. They almost got charged with multiple offenses and Todoroki tried to square up with the head police chief. Not to mention Iida quite literally went to mu1der Stain with the help of Dekquan and Todd. After that they practically said “And what about it!?” THEN half the Dekquansquad went out to rescues Bak, and didn’t give a single fuck about the consequences. Bottom line? Dekquan knows every heroes weakness and has yet to snap completely, Iida has attempted murder under his belt, Todd has the pure teenage rebellious spite mixed with “Neutral chaotic come at me Bro!” Energy fueling him, Ochac is there for the money. Whats bakusquad got? Some Latin scotch tape, a badass breakdancer, pika pika let me charge your phone mister suave, “oh that doesn’t sound very heroic” sunshine and daisies man, and ‘I go to bed for 8’ rabies n company. Don’t even try.

Bak’s parents are fashion designers. Why does this detail matter? Take a look at his hero costume. The color pallet doesn’t clash, the asccesories make sense. (In a sense). It’s the most well put together hero costume out of Class 1A. He had to have picked up tricks and rules to follow from his parents work, you cannot tell me otherwise.

Mina would sing WAP at Uraraka’s wedding..... change my mind.

(Not a ship hc) Will I ever shut up about Kirishima, Bak and Mina being my emotional support Wonder Trio (Im going to need to think of a different damn name) even if I don’t post about it? No. Mina forms a close bond with them as the years progress. Spending more time, opening up with them, nurturing with affection. It goes both ways as well. The boys care about her immensely, becoming protective and promising to be there when she needs it. Inside jokes, training and teasing- they have it all. Their dynamic is *chefs kiss* and I promise to post about it in the future.

Denk has to have brain damage, I’m pretty damn sure. If you’re using electricity to the point of being incapacitated and numerous amount of times then there has to be some adverse effects at play.

#once again back at it #dio bnha headcannons #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #incorrect mha quotes #bakugou katsuki #bnha incorrect quotes #incorrect bnha quotes #bnha headcanons #kaminari denki #eijirou kirishima #mina ashido #eri my hero academia #mha dabi #tamaki amakiji #todorki shouto #sero hanta #izuku mydoria #Dekquan #Wonder Group

[zephfair]

Man’s Best Friend

Rated T for language and talk about sex. It’s supposed to be fluff, crack and comedy. It goes along with the last three posts on my Tumblr.

Warning: There is lots of talk about different dog breeds and insults between K and Ronan mostly talking about neutering.

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

Adam heard about Gansey’s dog in the halls of Aglionby before he even officially met Richard Campbell Gansey III himself.

“Dick Gansey’s dog is such a bitch,” said a guy with his uniform out of order in nearly every way and wearing a pair of white framed sunglasses indoors. “He should be put down.”

“Definitely has rabies,” one of his sycophants agreed to the amusement of the others.

“Should have his balls cut off. Gotta neuter them when they’re young or they hump everything in sight,” another said to the hooting laughter of the rest.

“Don’t think they have shots for what’s wrong with him,” sunglasses-inside sneered. “And I don’t think the humping is a problem.”

So right from the beginning Adam was confused about why Aglionby’s golden boy Gansey wouldn’t vaccinate or neuter his pet. And why the lower dregs of Aglionby society would even care about it.

It had to be some sort of special pedigreed dog, Adam mused the next time he brushed past Gansey in a crowded hall, safe in his anonymity to stare at Gansey’s own pedigreed face longer than socially acceptable.

He could immediately imagine a beautifully turned out, prize-winning German Shepherd striding at Gansey’s side, perfectly at heel, attuned to obey Gansey’s every command. Or a purebred Doberman pinscher, strong and protective, offering extra security at Gansey’s side night and day, trained to attack with just a single word.

Gansey’s dog had to be something like the boy appeared himself—noble and loyal, intelligent and handsome.

Gansey certainly wouldn’t have any use for a mutt, the Heinz 57 variety that was a mix of every kind of dog Adam had ever known slinking around the trailer park. While they could be good-natured and even friendly at times, they certainly weren’t trained or obedient or even cared to listen to commands. While one might bestow a little affection once in a while in return for a handout, the only training they ever received was on the end of a boot when they didn’t get out of the way and cower fast enough.

No, there was no way Gansey would have a sorry mutt in his possession who would only piss on his tires and bite the hand that fed it.

Although that thought soured Adam in a way he didn’t want to examine more closely, he continued to watch Gansey and listen to the scuttlebutt about him. He didn’t have to try hard.

What he heard after that only convinced him that Gansey wasn’t a very responsible pet owner.

“Keep your fucking dog on a leash, dude,” one of the upperclassmen yelled at Gansey while Adam watched him and his shadow Lynch stalk across the quad. “He bites.”

“You wish, asshole,” Lynch snarled back, flipping him off for good measure.

The senior who’d yelled was suddenly alone as his friends prudently took a step or two back.

“Maybe you should consider a collar and tag at least,” the senior blustered. “With your name and number in case he gets drunk at a party again and can’t find his own way home.”

Gansey held up his index finger, like he was going to count off points, but he only had to make one. “Mr. Murphy, I believe it is? I don’t appreciate you telling me what I should do with what’s mine,” Gansey said quietly but with such authority in his voice that the senior was cowed and Adam lusted, intensely, for the power of that confidence. “And if my dog requires a collar or leash, that is my decision.”

Then he turned and walked away, conversation over, issue ended. Lynch hung back for a second to give the thoroughly embarrassed senior a toothy grin that ended with him snapping his teeth in order to see the kid jerk back and swear.

Adam’s imagination wandered that afternoon while his hands worked on an engine at Boyd’s. Gansey’s dog got drunk? What the hell did that mean? Who in their right mind would give alcohol to a dog?

Even if Gansey had some questionable dog ownership ways, he did seem like a faithful friend even if Adam couldn’t believe who he’d chosen for his very best friend.

Ronan Lynch was… Lynch was… Adam strove for the words to describe him. Where Gansey was polished and pedigreed and had the mot juste at all times, Lynch was savage and unfiltered and the most apropos words that came out of his mouth were curses and swears. He was strikingly handsome, all tall and rangy with light eyes under glowering black brows. He was the dark and gloomy rain cloud always following closely behind Gansey’s brilliantly sunny smiles.

Lynch was the biggest reason Adam didn’t reach out to Gansey in one of their shared classes, not just that his secondhand clothes looked especially shabby beside Gansey’s and his accent sounded thick even when he tried to clip it when he answered questions in class. No, Lynch was better left alone, and Gansey right along with him.

Maybe Gansey’s dog was the exact opposite of Lynch, something super friendly to counteract his prickly standoffish persona. It might be a bigger breed, something outgoing and amiable, tongue hanging out while it jumped up to greet any and all strangers.

Oh lord, maybe Gansey was a cliché and had a Labrador or a golden retriever. Something loving and goofy, a dog that would curl up beside him while he studied then chase tennis balls when Gansey let him outside. Something that would always be ready to cuddle or play.

Or even a Labradoodle which Adam had seen on TV and personally thought combined the most ridiculous traits from both breeds. But they were beloved by children and white families, so it would fit. Maybe he’d brought the Gansey family dog along from home.

Adam even wondered where the wonderful Gansey dog would sleep. Did Gansey have a special kennel for him? He would never have an outdoor doghouse or cage arrangement. No, Adam was sure Gansey’s dog would have his own special luxurious bed but was more likely to just share with Gansey so he could curl up at night and rely on his faithful friend to keep him company if he ever had insomnia.

Then came the day before what Adam would later think of as the moment his life invariably changed in all the most weird, wonderful and wacky ways. He was pushing his bike across the parking lot after school when Gansey and Lynch swung into the preposterous orange Camaro. Adam winced when it coughed to a start, engine finally turning over, but idling roughly.

Adam was already diagnosing the potential causes when white sunglasses Kavinsky and his friends stopped at their own nearby cars and shouted, “Dick-Dick-Dick, you gotta muzzle your dog, man, if you’re not going to snip his balls off. He’s getting out at night, fighting again.”

And he gestured to his crotch which made his entire gang behind him laugh.

The engine of the Camaro revved once and the tires peeled a little as Gansey started off at speed. Lynch stuck his head out of the car’s open window the whole way even as they drove down the street, stuck both hands up with middle fingers extended and waggled his tongue in the direction of the jeering.

“Chain that bitch up,” Kavinsky yelled after them, miming it with his own tie.

That interaction left Adam with even more to think about. He just couldn’t imagine Gansey with any kind of dog other than one that might be fierce under pressure but never violent. Surely there was no way he’d have a pitbull or some kind of dog used in fighting? Adam thought that was utterly disgusting. No breed of dog was inherently vicious; bad handling and treatment by humans made them react that way.

Maybe Gansey’s dog was just something high energy that needed more exercise, a greyhound or border collie. Something that needed work and motivation to keep active to run off all that energy.

The very next day was when Adam finally gathered all his courage and stopped to help Gansey and the broken down Camaro. It was a strange meeting—Adam was shocked that Gansey already knew who he was—and a strange conversation, one that accurately predicted a lot of their future conversations if he’d only known it at the time. Even while Adam pointed out the most pertinent problems under the Camaro’s hood, he’d glanced at Gansey looking in vain for evidence of dog fur.

Gansey seemed to take a liking to Adam’s company and sought him out during free periods and lunch, extending invitations to hang out after school that Adam usually had to decline because of his jobs. Still, Gansey took it in stride and soon shared his research into his search for Glendower, and Adam ate it up, nearly giddy with the realization that this boy seemed to value his thoughts and nodded carefully when Adam shared his opinions.

But Adam was used to being on his own, and sometimes he just needed to find a quiet corner to finish an assignment or review his notes right before a quiz.

He found a bench on the outer edge of the quad, its back up against a hedge, that usually provided some solitude and warmth from the slowly cooling fall sun. He was sitting there one afternoon when a group of freshmen congregated around the bench on the other side of the hedge, only the tops of the taller ones’ heads visible from Adam’s side. But he could hear every word clearly.

“C’mon, Watt, you know you want him,” one said loudly and the others laughed even louder.

“All I said was I think Gansey’s dog is really cute,” said a smaller voice.

“That means you like him,” one said in that annoying sing-song voice bullies use when they thought they were being funny.

Adam didn’t think it was funny and neither did Watt who piped up, “You’re just jealous because you’re nowhere near as cute.”

The group let out a loud “Oooo” and Adam was suddenly struck with the vision of Gansey’s dog being cute. That wasn’t something he’d even considered before. What if it was something tiny and silly like a miniature poodle or a Pomeranian or, God forbid, a Chihuahua. What if it was a white fluffy thing Shih Tzu or Bichon Frise? Would Gansey ever carry it in his messenger bag?

Then Adam heard the boys shush each other and fall unnaturally silent. It wasn’t until a shadow fell over his notebook that he looked up to see Lynch looming over him. Adam squinted up at him but didn’t speak.

“Gansey wants you,” Lynch finally growled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction where Gansey was waving.

“Okay,” Adam said and gathered his things while Lynch just stood there, silently watching him and judging, Adam was sure. When Adam brushed past, he heard Lynch sniff at him but Adam bit his tongue and didn’t call him on it.

This was their new dynamic now. Gansey seemed to enjoy their time together and wanted to meet up more than Adam actually had time for. And it seemed like no matter where Gansey was, Ronan lurked nearby, hovering around Gansey, circling Adam with distrust, not seeming to want to leave Gansey alone with him.

Gansey’s new friendship was almost overwhelming to Adam, if he hadn’t been so ashamed of enjoying the new and first-ever camaraderie. Gansey was earnest and persistent and, Adam laughed to himself, dogged in his pursuits. Perhaps his rumored dog was a terrier, loyal and relentless.

It still didn’t explain why Adam never spotted a wayward hair or fur on him and his impeccable shoes were never chewed.

When Gansey finally invited him over to the old abandoned factory where he lived on an evening when Adam could actually fit it into his schedule, Adam accepted while Ronan snorted loudly then stalked away.

Adam had the whole day to think about it. He was nervous—as nervous about going to Gansey’s home (and Lynch’s but that was a whole other set of worries) as he’d been about his first day at Aglionby. He wanted to, had to, make a good impression if he wanted to remain friends with Richard Campbell Gansey III and even improve their relationship.

One of the worries was thinking about meeting Gansey’s dog. Gansey spoke about everything else that struck his fancy, but he’d never once brought up his pet. Or attack security dog. It made Adam nervous and he spent his entire English class thinking about getting bitten, eaten, mauled or having to fight with Gansey’s dog.

Even as he rode his bike from Boyd’s to Monmouth that afternoon, he tried to run through possible scenarios. Most dogs he’d met either jumped up in greeting or went right for the crotch sniff. Adam was okay with either. He knew better than to go right in for a belly rub or head scratch but to offer a hand gently for welcoming smells. He was sure Gansey would’ve taught his dog tricks and Adam was ready to be lavish with praise.

After all, he’d always had a soft spot for dogs.

Then he figured it was never too early to offer a bribe, so he wheeled into the gas station two blocks from Monmouth and found he had just enough change in his pocket to buy a plain Slim Jim. Surely making a good impression on Gansey’s dog in the form of a processed beef snack stick would help him maintain a good impression with Gansey himself.

He leaned his bike against the wall of Monmouth, wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and pounded on the outer door. When no one answered, he remembered what Gansey had said and let himself in, holding on to a rickety railing to climb the stairs to the big door on the second floor.

This time he took a deep breath and knocked again, waiting to hear alert warning barks or frightened angry yips, the sound of nails skittering on the hardwood floor as they bounded toward the intruder.

Instead, there was a shout then a heavy tread then Lynch was jerking the door, sliding it open just wide enough for his body to show. He bared his teeth as he said, “Parrish.”

“Is that Adam?” he heard Gansey say excitedly. “Let him in.”

And suddenly, everything fell into place.

“Oh. My. God.” Adam said. Ronan’s head tilted at his loud exclamation, and Adam just had to say “Oh my God” again at his expression.

Ronan barked “The fuck?” but he stepped back when Adam stepped forward, as Gansey called out again, “Lynch, let him in. Come. Sit.”

���This is for you,” Adam blurted out and shoved the jerky treat against Lynch’s broad chest. Lynch looked confused but reached up and took it so Adam could pass into the huge room and focus on Gansey, smiling and eager to show off his latest research into Glendower.

It wasn’t until more than a year later, the last February that Adam would ever have to be in high school, when Ronan climbed back into the BMW from paying for gas carrying two sodas and a Slim Jim. He offered Adam a soda then put them both into the cup holders and dropped the jerky onto Adam’s lap.

“What’s this for?” Adam said but Ronan only shrugged.

“Paying you back.”

“Huh?”

“The first thing you ever gave me was one of these. I’m paying you back.”

Adam started to snicker then broke out in a hearty laugh when he started to think back on those first weeks at Aglionby. Ronan leaned back and looked a little hurt that his thoughtfulness was being mocked.

“You remember that?” Adam finally choked out, wiping his eyes.

“Yeah. It was special. The first thing you ever gave me. I thought you hated me.”

Adam couldn’t resist when Ronan was looking so vulnerable, his cheeks pink, his eyes not meeting Adam’s. “Aaaw, did you save the wrapper? Do you have it pressed into your diary?” Adam teased.

“Jackass,” Ronan spit out and he grabbed the jerky back.

“Aw, come on, Lynch, that’s some pretty romantic shit.”

“It was just so unexpected,” Ronan finally said. “You were finally coming to visit us and you just suddenly yelled the Lord’s name in vain and then slapped me with a Slim Jim. If I hadn’t already thought you were weird, that would’ve done it.”

“Weird,” Adam scoffed and leaned over to kiss Ronan’s cheek but he jerked back.

“You were totally weird. Still are.”

“Maybe. But you like weird.”

Ronan couldn’t disagree with that. “You ever gonna tell me what was going through your pretty, weird little head that night?”

Adam couldn’t stop the big grin that came over him. “You’re not going to believe it. Or like it.”

When Ronan insisted that he would, Adam told him the story. Ronan made some disbelieving grunts and covered his face with his hand at one point, but Adam made it through without interruption.

“It wasn’t until you opened the door that it just clicked. And I realized that Gansey didn’t have a dog-dog, he had a you.” Adam reached out and cupped the back of Ronan’s head, pulling him closer so Adam could say softly, “There was much less crotch sniffing and face licking than I was worried about. At least that night.”

Ronan nuzzled his face into Adam’s neck and mumbled, “I’ll show you crotch sniffing and face licking,” but Adam could feel how hot his cheeks were with embarrassment so he laughed again. Ronan bit him in retaliation.

“Oh man, now I gotta go get your shot records from Gansey. How do I know you don’t have rabies?” he joked and squirmed when Ronan licked wetly up his neck to his ear.

“If I did, you’d have it by now,” he growled and nipped Adam’s earlobe. “You know what they say about sleeping with dogs.”

As Ronan moved on to suck at Adam’s jaw, Adam patted his shaved head. “At least you don’t shed,” then he yelped when Ronan bit his cheek. “Come on, now. Let’s get back to the Barns. I’ll give you a treat,” he cooed in a particularly annoying baby talk voice.

“And?” Ronan demanded.

“And I’ll give you all the belly rubs you want,” and when Ronan pulled back to start the car, Adam didn’t even try to resist rubbing his head again and saying, “Good boy.”

The glare he got then and the exceedingly slow and thorough foreplay he received later were totally worth it.

~~~~~~~

I tried to work in as many dog breeds as possible. I love dogs, canine and Lynch both. But if I had to picture Ronan as a dog, it’s absolutely this one. You can’t convince me that he wouldn’t be as melodramatic, independent, smart and stubborn as a husky. And vocal. Which reminds me, does anyone else see the brothers Lynch in this?

#my fic #pynch #the raven cycle #adam parrish #gansey #ronan lynch

[codythecheshirecat]

Is This The Start, Midpoint, or Finale? Chapter 1: Mystery

Codywan merman/modern AU

Story Summary: Cody has spent the last several months recovering from a car crash that completely upturned his life. When spending a day on the St. Lawrence River, he finds something that should be impossible-- a merman. An injured merman. And, well, there’s not much to do except bring him home and fix him up.

    Cody spends his Saturday at Robert Moses State Park, pretending that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with his life. The day is nice, the St. Lawrence is calm, and his leg hurts. It always hurts now, a low ache he starts and ends his days with, no matter what he does. He can ignore it, usually. He knows his limits. Nerve damage, he’ll live with it forever; it’s any other pain he has to look out for.

    So, he spends his Saturday at a State Park watching the river, the sky, the people at the park. He’s not really one for fishing anymore, so he doesn’t. He brought some books, one a dystopian about a zombie apocalypse that Hardcase had recommended and another dystopian about… body autonomy, from what he can gather. Echo had recommended that one. He doesn’t read either of them beyond the first few pages-- not necessarily because they’re not good, but because his attention span has almost completely vanished over the last several months.

    Later in the day, clouds roll in. Cody watches them, half interested, and when it finally starts sprinkling (and then raining, and then pouring) he sits under an awning with hopes of waiting the storm out. When the lightning starts, he (like everyone else on the beach) retreats to better, indoor shelter. In his case, his truck.

    From where his truck (it’s Rex’s, technically, because Rex rarely needs it and Cody’s is scrap metal) is parked he should be able to faintly see the beach. But the rain against his windows turns the world into a dark, blurry mess. Cody sighs and massages his leg. Well, he can’t drive home in rain like this. He’ll have to wait it out. Best way to do that-- he reclines his seat and closes his eyes, fully intent on taking a short nap. The rain lulls him to sleep.

    When he wakes, it’s pitch black, sprinkling, and just past midnight. He groans. Didn’t mean to sleep that long, he thinks, and moves the seat to sit up. There’s an awful crick in his neck that’s not going to go away anytime soon. He gets out of his truck to stretch.

    ...and from somewhere on the beach, he hears a low, agonized moan.

    Cody freezes. It could be a person, probably in trouble. They might’ve washed up in the storm, even. If it’s an animal-- it could be injured, or have rabies, and the last thing he wants is to be attacked by a sick animal.

    Still, he hasn’t gotten to this point in his life by ignoring those that need help. If someone-- or something-- is in trouble, he’s going to check it out. He grabs his phone from where it fell on the seat, turns the flashlight on, and creeps across the grounds toward the waterline.

    At first he doesn’t see anything. He doesn’t hear anything, either, and almost decides that whatever made the noise must’ve run off. Then, in the sand, his light bounces off something large. His first thought is that it’s a twisted log, halfway out of the water. He gets closer. Each step is slow and careful. It’s not a log, he realizes. But what it is-- he rubs his eyes.

    Am I dreaming?

    There’s a pale-skinned man, lying on his side in the sand. But his legs-- he doesn’t have legs. He has a long, twisting tail. Like an eel, or maybe a snake. It’s hard to tell in the dark. It’s nearly four times the length of his human part, and… red?

    The- the merman, that’s what he must be, even though merpeople don’t exist, doesn’t so much as twitch as Cody nears. He crouches, and carefully reaches out to touch the merman’s shoulder. He’s cold, and wet, and his skin feels the same as human skin. Cody rolls him onto his back and finally gets a look at his face.

    He has orange hair, and a rather bushy beard of the same color, and blue eyes-- oh.

    The merman blinks at him. His eyes are narrowed from the light shining into them. Cody offers him a smile and shifts so the light isn't directed straight at his face.

    “Hello-” Cody says, and the merman snarls at him.

    Quick as lightning, the merman rolls, propping himself up on his hands like he’s going to commando crawl at him. Cody shuffles back. The merman snarls again. This time, Cody can see long, sharp fangs protruding from his gums. His stomach drops. Those look nasty.

    “I just wanted to see if you needed help.” Cody says as calmly as he can.

    The merman snarls, moves like he’s going to snap forward, and then his arms give out. He falls back onto the sand, unconscious again. Fuck. Cody shuffles forward. His light catches on something else-- a long laceration along his side. It doesn’t seem all that deep-- Kix would know better, he’s the nurse-- but it’s caked in sand and definitely sluggishly oozing blood and something that must be pus. An infected wound.

    “Well I can’t just leave you here.” He sighs.

    Carefully, Cody gathers him bridal-style in his arms. His tail will drag, but there’s not much he can do about that. He straightens up with a grunt. The merman is heavy-- but Cody has to bring him to his truck, so he grits his teeth and makes the walk. His leg starts hurting almost immediately-- and not the usual ache. This is sharp, an actual warning sign that he’s going to further injure himself and set back his healing process if he keeps going. Cody ignores it and all the other pains that well up.

    He’s halfway to his truck when he realizes the merman is getting lighter. Fuck. Did he have a tail injury I missed? He turns, trying to see the merman’s tail in the dark. He fully expects to see a chunk of it separated and sitting in the sand.

    And-

    He watches the merman’s tail disappear. Cody blinks. He looks down at the merman in his arms. His tail is disappearing, turning into-- legs? The merman has legs now, apparently. The laceration is still there, down his abdomen and leg, but he has legs. He looks like a normal human man, including-- Cody looks up, face burning.

    “This is. The weirdest day of my life.” Cody mutters.

    The merman, being unconscious, doesn’t answer. Cody sucks in a breath, lets it out, and finishes the walk to his truck. He lays the merman in the back seat as carefully as he can. He stares for a moment at his naked body, shrugs off his flannel, and sets it over his midsection.

    Then he gets in the front seat, turns the truck on, and drives the thirty minutes home to Norfolk without thinking a single thought more.

#Star Wars #The Clone Wars #Commander Cody #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Codywan #Merman AU #Modern AU #Magic #Obi-Wan is a merman #Cody finds him on the beach #Why was Obi-Wan injured on the beach I wonder? #Stay tuned and you might find out #On another hand #The two books Cody had #The Enemy Series #by Charlie Higson #The Unwind Dystology #by Neal Shusterman #check them out if you like dystopians #or zombie novels #they're great #I'll put this on AO3 eventually

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Inyez

Rating: NSFW Length: 5331 Pairing: Male Bat Creature x Male Reader (both cis)

xxx

Winter comes early up in the mountains, but I'm used to that. I like to sit by my living room windows and look down into the valley where I work, enjoying the way the city lights give the snow a warm glow. I figure myself lucky; I come from a happy family, I have a good career in a field I love, and I've managed to make a home out of the old observatory that sits like a squat little guardian at the top of a hill twenty minutes from the city.

My job gives me incredibly flexible hours, so I work whenever I'm awake and sleep whenever I want to. I've ended up with a mostly vespertine sleep schedule, which means I get to watch the sunset while I break for lunch. I'm a workaholic, though, so this "break" usually means that I step away from active work and focus on replying to emails from clients or looking up resources and reference images for my latest project as the sun goes down, and this time is no different.

I don't even notice the dark settling around me until I realise that I've been squinting at my laptop for the past half hour, and by then, the only source of light is its screen. I have outdoor lights, sure, and there's a street lamp or two on the way up the hill, but they amount to nothing unless they're on or nearby. I sigh and close my laptop to give my eyes a break, waiting for my vision to adjust properly to the lack of light around me.

I'm just contemplating making myself another cup of coffee when the window beside me explodes, and I have no qualms with admitting that despite being over six feet tall, I scream like a frightened squirrel. Instinct takes over and I find myself taking shelter behind my chair, waiting for the glass to settle before I risk peering around it. Adrenaline has made my vision sharper faster, but there's only so much I can make out in the darkness. I know I heard something heavy hit the floor after the crash, but nothing moves in the shadows, so I take the risk and scuttle over to the nearest switch plate to flick the lights on.

There's blood on what's left of the window and the scattered glass, and wide smears of it left in skid marks across the floorboards. Whatever has bled on my flooring is crumpled halfway behind my couch between me and my kitchen, cutting me off from any makeshift weapons I could use to defend myself. I creep around the other end of the couch with all the exaggerated stealth of a cartoon cat burglar, getting my first real look at the thing. It's dark and huge—about the size of a very large dog, at least—and even as my fingers grope for something to defend myself with, I don't take my eyes off of it for a second.

I approach the wounded creature with a skillet in one hand and a broom in the other, using the broom handle to prod gingerly at the thing that seems to be bleeding out on my living room floor. The first few pokes don't garner any reactions from the beast, and so I grow bolder, sending a silent prayer up to whatever gods might be listening that the thing doesn't have rabies or worse. I feel myself grimace as I lift one large, leathery wing to see more of the creature, only to snatch the broom handle back and away.

Whatever it was was awake, and it had been staring right at me with large, luminous eyes.

It takes me several seconds to work up the courage to repeat the action, and only then do I notice that those eyes are dazed and unfocused, shock settling in as blood dribbles down along its flat face. The creature murmurs when I prod it again—nothing I understand, but definitely something meant to be words—and that's when I realise that the thing on my floor is not a what, but a who. I swear and pace in my kitchen while keeping the thing well within sight at all times, but eventually my conscience wins out; I can't just let them bleed to death in front of me. Even knowing this, I know I don’t have the skills for what I need to do, so I pull an earpiece on and dial my cousin on my cell phone, grimacing when I glance at the time on my oven.

The phone rings a few times before there’s a shuffling on the other end, and then her groggy voice mumbles, “Hello?”

“Hey, Maraia,” I say, taking my first aid kit from beneath my sink and slipping a chef’s knife into my belt just in case. “I need your help.”

“Cuz? Do you know what time it is? I just got to bed an hour ago!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s an emergency.”

I hear more shuffling, and then Maraia’s voice is much more alert. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Some sort of bat crashed through my window,” I say, hurrying over with my first aid kit and kneeling in the blood beside the lump on my floor. “It’s hurt real bad. Blood everywhere. It won’t make it to the vet if I don’t do something now.”

“You’re treating a wild animal?!”

“Maraia. It’s dying!”

“Fuck,” my cousin mutters, slipping back into her role as an ER nurse. “You owe me. Okay, tell me what you see.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, and try to turn off my anxiety as I listen to her expertise. First and foremost, I rush to apply pressure to a particularly ugly wound on the creature’s pelvis and thigh, cleaning and bandaging it up as best as I can once I’ve stopped the majority of the bleeding. This is about when I bump into the creature's, er, fiddly bits, barely hidden by a thick patch of fur. I work around them as I wrap him up in long bandages.

Per Maraia’s guidance, I check the creature's eyes and find wide, fixed pupils that indicate significant head trauma; it doesn't seem like he can see me, or even sense that I'm here. Still, I speak softly to him as I work, carefully picking glass and small twigs from open wounds and doing my best to clean and close them with a combination of butterfly closures and careful stitches. He whimpers and whines very softly when the discomfort is too great, but for the most part he hardly makes any sound at all, which Maraia and I agree is more worrying than if the creature were screeching and struggling with all his might.

Finally, after what feels like hours, I sit back on my legs with a sigh, certain that I’ve gotten to every wound that there is to be found. “I don’t think I can move it,” I say to Maraia, wiping my shaking hands clean with antibacterial wipes. “Not without popping something open.”

“You can’t keep it there with you,” she replies, using the same stern, reasonable tone that she uses on her children and patients. “Bats have rabies. What if it bites you?”

“I don’t think it can. I don’t even know if it will survive the night. For all I know, it’s haemorrhaging somewhere and this will all be for nothing.”

“All the more reason for you to take it to a vet! They can treat it there, maybe put it down if they have to. Whatever they decide will be better than what you can do at home.”

“I know,” I murmur, packing away my supplies. “Thanks, Raia. I’ll take care of it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Maraia sighs, and I can hear her exhaustion creeping back into her voice when she says, “Alright. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will. Sorry for waking you.”

“Oh, bull,” Maraia scoffs. “You were scared and came to me. That’s a good thing. Love you, kiddo.”

I can’t help but smile, despite my weariness. “Love you, too,” I say, and hang up once we’ve said our goodbyes. It would be cruel to leave this poor creature on my living room floor, so I haul my inflatable mattress out of storage and set it up in my bedroom, grateful for the large amount of floor space in the converted observatory. I check on my guest several times during the time it takes the bed to inflate, and then I carry him into my bedroom, careful not to jostle him too much when I place him on the air mattress.

I watch the shallow rise and fall of the creature’s chest for a moment before I look up into his elongated face, taking in his small, black, dog-like nose and the sharp teeth that I can see peeking out from behind parted lips. Two large, velvety ears poke up from the thick fur on his head, motionless in his unconsciousness.

From what I can tell, whatever this creature is appears to be around four feet tall, with long curled toes on each slender, delicate foot and sharp claws on the tips of his hairless fingers. He's barrel-chested from the musculature needed to support both arms and wings, with a slightly narrower waist and wide hips that lead to lithe, muscular legs. The majority of his body is covered in a short, dense layer of dark russet fur over deep brown skin, perhaps a shade or two darker than mine.

Whatever he is, I've read enough books and watched enough movies to know with certainty that I can't take him anywhere—not without possibly endangering him further. The last thing I want is this creature ending up dissected in a lab somewhere, or worse. I scrub my hands over my face and get up to go clean my living room, taking one last glance at the creature in my bedroom before closing the door behind me as quietly as I can.

The first night is harrowing. Batty—as I've taken to calling my guest in my head—has his first of three seizures shortly after I finish taping garbage bags over the hole in my window. I drop the duct tape and run to him when he lets out an unearthly wail, all of the air in his lungs being forced out by seizing muscles. There's nothing I can do but make sure that he doesn't hurt himself further, sitting vigil beside him until his convulsions die down and praying that he'll still draw breath when they're over.

He's unconscious for the entirety of the next day, so thoroughly insensate that I risk calling out a repairman to replace the broken window so that the cold stops seeping in. Other than supervising the appointment, I hardly dare to leave Batty's side, taking my laptop into my bedroom to do as much work there as I possibly can. I clean him up when he messes himself in his sleep, though I worry about him dying of dehydration. To prevent this, I pulse ice cubes in my blender and carefully feed him ice chips at first, being mindful of his body temperature by keeping him thoroughly bundled in blankets.

By the third day, Batty makes as if to swallow, and I drip water into his mouth in an effort to keep him hydrated. I don't know what he eats, so I climb into my car and make the drive into the city, buying a variety of potted baby foods with what I'm sure is a wild look in my eyes that keeps the cashier from attempting any small talk with me. I make it back to the observatory in record time, and though Batty doesn't stir when I waft different foods under his nose, I still manage to coax him into swallowing mixtures of meat and vegetables.

He runs a temperature that night, and I spend most of the early morning hours before dawn wiping him down with a cool cloth and stroking my fingers along his brow when he starts to shiver and mumble in his sleep. His fever finally breaks the following afternoon, and in the fading light of sunset, his eyes crack open. He's still exhausted and disoriented, though, so he only blinks sluggishly at me when I ask him gentle questions, eventually fading back into unconsciousness again. I figure it's progress.

Batty recovers slowly. For a long time, I only hear his voice when he mumbles in his sleep or when he whimpers as I tend to his wounds. Eventually, he begins to communicate with me using little humming noises, or he summons me from other parts of the house with plaintive chirps that break my heart. I carry him into the bathroom and find that he's fascinated by the toilet after startling at the sound of the first flush, though that's nothing compared to his awe when I decide to show off the shower. He's visibly disappointed when I deny his peeping requests to be carried under its spray, but he seems to understand when I explain that we should wait for his stitches to come out.

He gets a little stronger every day. After a couple of weeks, he's able to sit up for short periods of time as long as he's propped up with pillows. He holds his water bottle by himself a few days after that. Eating still takes more coordination than he's capable of, at least when it comes to utensils, but he's happy enough to nibble at the fruits I cut up for him. I take him out to the living room with me when he’s well enough, and there I play nature documentaries for him and keep him warm as the snow falls outside. He stares at the television in reverent silence when the voice of David Attenborough warbles through my speakers, and he spends the majority of the day curled around a couch cushion in a nest of blankets.

I learn that he’s as omnivorous as I’d hoped he’d be, and so I go to the store and get him a few different meats. I cook them with little to no seasoning at first, feeding him like one would a dog, but it isn’t long before he begins showing interest in my own meals, too. This urges me to start buying healthier food for myself; I figure that if I wouldn’t feed it to Batty for fear of his health, I probably shouldn’t be eating it, either. That doesn’t stop me from indulging in the odd treat, and his face when he tastes my favourite soft drink is priceless before he spits it out in shock, smacking his lips and looking at the bottle as though it’s bitten him.

“What?” I chuckle, taking the bottle from his hands and offering him a cloth. “Don’t like the fizz?”

“‘Fizz’?” Batty echoes, and I nearly drop the bottle before I can get the cap on.

“You can talk?” I ask, and I feel my eyes widen when he nods. “All this time?”

Batty hesitantly shakes his head, claws gently scratching at the cloth on his lap. “Don’t know,” he slowly replies, brows furrowing over his big, dark eyes. “I remember some. It’s hard.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him, reaching out to stroke between his ears in a way I’ve learned soothes him. “You took a bad blow to the head. I’m sorry that I couldn’t take you to someone who could treat you better. I didn’t want someone bad getting their hands on you.”

Batty nods his understanding, sighing deeply and nosing up into my palm to guide my hand along his muzzle. “Wanted to say all this time,” he murmurs, his soft, fluting voice growing weaker. “Thank you.”

I smile; my heart warms. “I’m just glad that you’re okay. I’ll take care of you for as long as it takes. Do you have a name?”

He frowns again, briefly closing his eyes. “Inyez.”

“Inyez,” I murmur, testing the name in my mouth and finding it fitting. I introduce myself in turn.

Inyez’s face relaxes into a small, sleepy smile. He echoes my name, and doesn’t resist when I tuck him back under the covers.

“Rest,” I whisper, brushing my fingertips between Inyez’s eyes. They flutter closed and don’t open again as he lets exhaustion pull him under, and I turn down the lights to let him fall asleep to the sound of whale song.

Once I know that Inyez can speak with me, I go a little bonkers with the need to provide enrichment for my guest. It’s been a while since I’ve had the company with which to play games, so I’m at once overwhelmed and exhilarated when I stand in front of the tabletop game section of the city mall’s toy store. I grab classics like Jenga and Parcheesi, but I also pick up games like Tokaido, Wingspan, and Betrayal at House on the Hill. Inyez fawns over the beautiful illustrations and pretty trinkets needed to play each of the games, and he’s held rapt by the game mechanics and advancements.

I can’t help but mirror his delighted smiles, watching him delicately place tokens on the boards with his slender fingers. The furrow in his brow as he puts together jigsaw puzzles is incredibly endearing, and he’s quick to summon me from where I’m working to show me his accomplishments. “Come!” he cries. “Hurry, come see!” My name on his tongue is the sweetest sound to my ears, and I look forward to hearing it in that cheerful tone throughout the day.

I buy an extension for the desk in my office and give Inyez his own space while I work, though more often than not, he ends up watching my monitors at my elbow, marveling at my work and asking countless questions. At his urging, I show him my digital portfolio, where I have most of my character designs, logos, and even a few structural blueprints and landscapes.

“Where is this?” he asks, hardly daring to tap my monitor screen with a claw.

“Nowhere,” I say, enlarging the image so that he can drink in the details. “Nowhere real, anyway. It’s a fantasy world.”

Inyez frowns. “A fantasy world? But it looks so real.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Well, I specialise in realism. There’s a lot of research that goes into it.”

Inyez doesn’t look entirely mollified by this response, but he subsides for the most part, only murmuring, “You even got the horns right.”

I turn my head to look down at him where he’s resting his cheek against my arm. “The dragon’s?”

“Yes.”

I can’t hold back my surprise. “There are dragons? They’re real?”

Inyez looks up at me, and I briefly get lost in his eyes. “Of course they are. They’re rare, though. Rarer than most everything else.”

“Rarer than you?”

Inyez bares his tiny sharp teeth at me in a cheeky little grin. “No. I’m one of a kind.”

I laugh, helplessly charmed. “That you are. Maybe I’ll draw you sometime.”

Inyez’s mouth drops open, eyes growing wider until I can just about see the whites. “Would you really? Me?”

“Why not?” I pull up a new canvas on my illustration programme, sketching up a quick little scene from the memory of looking down into his upturned face. He gasps softly at my side and shifts to cling to my shirt, murmuring in his strange language and making soft little cooing noises as I add colour and detail.

“Do I really look like that?” he breathes, looking from my face to the screen and back.

“Mhm.” I zoom in on the eyes, adding depth and highlights before moving to adjust the shape and fullness of the lips. Inyez goes very quiet for a few minutes as he watches the portrait come to life, only stirring to place his hand at the crook of my elbow to call my attention back to him. “What is it?”

“Do you really think I am so lovely?” asks Inyez, voice very soft and gaze shy.

I’m grateful for my dark skin as I feel warmth creep up into my face. “I do. You’re very beautiful.”

Inyez scoffs, but I can tell that he’s flustered. “You’ve only met one of us. Who are you to say that?”

“Sometimes one is enough,” I murmur, gently stroking Inyez’s small chin with a crooked finger. He makes an odd little twittering noise and hides behind his wings, and I feel my heart flutter wildly in my chest. I'm falling for this creature, I realise, and I can't bring myself to care; as far as I'm concerned, Inyez is the best thing to happen to me in a long time.

“Where do you go when you get into that terrible thing?” Inyez murmurs some nights later when we’re cuddled on the couch, his head on a pillow in my lap and my fingers gently stroking his head.

“In the car? To the city, mostly. To get food and toilet paper and other supplies.”

Inyez shifts to look up at me, confused. “You get food in that noisy place?”

I nod, brushing my hand along his cheek. “Everything we’ve eaten here, I’ve bought there.”

“But it doesn’t smell.”

“Smell?”

“The city. It smells, but the food doesn’t.”

I feel myself frown in thought. “Probably because a lot of it is washed and kept in clean places, or in airtight packaging.”

“I smell,” Inyez mumbles unhappily, tucking himself up in his wings. “When may I wash?”

I hum thoughtfully, rubbing one of his velvety ears between my fingers in a way that he likes. “Probably tonight, if we’re careful. If you really feel that bad.”

“I do.” Big, dark eyes look up from my lap, beseeching. “I don’t want to smell anymore. I want to be clean.”

“Alright,” I say, shifting to gather him up in my arms and carry him to the bathroom. “As long as we don’t scrub too hard or get your wounds too wet. I’ll still need to clean and redress them after we’re done.”

“You’ll wash me?” asks Inyez, a note of excitement in his voice. “Like lovers do! Could we be lovers?”

I can’t help but laugh, startled at the sudden change in conversation; I distract myself by fiddling with the shower controls. “We could be,” I reasonably reply, “if we both felt the same about one another.”

“Then we can,” says Inyez as he slips under the spray, cooing softly at the water’s warmth. “You think I’m lovely, and I think you’re lovely, too. It’s really that simple.”

“Is it?” I ask, dubious, even as I pull my clothing off and over my head to join him.

“Why does it have to be complicated? Is it more for humans? Is it not enough to feel safe and happy and goodness when I look at you? It’s like my heart has bitten a big, juicy apricot—it’s full of sweetness and the juice is overflowing!”

“A heart-apricot?” I chuckle, shaking my head at the silliness of the comparison. “Well, I’ll try to find you an apricot next time I’m in town.”

“Would you?” asks Inyez, burrowing against my chest and sighing. “I’d like that. I like you. Can that be enough?”

I run my hands carefully between his wings, earning myself a sleepy little burble. “I think it can.” I curb my enthusiastic reaction to this new turn of events and focus on gently cleaning Inyez’s fur to his satisfaction, and then I blow dry him until he’s warm and redress his wounds. By the time I carry him to bed—my bed, our bed—he’s limp as a noodle and snoring softly in his exhaustion, and I take great pleasure in tucking him in so that he’s safe and sound.

The next morning, I am kissed awake. That night, we kiss until we drift to sleep. Kisses and affection make up the bulk of my ‘duties’ as Inyez’s lover, and I take to the task of keeping him satisfied with relish. For his part, Inyez is content to groom me seemingly at random, running his small, clawed fingers delicately through my hair and humming to himself as he does so. I get a little less work done, but I don’t mind it if it’s to see Inyez so pleased with himself when he’s decided I’m primped to perfection.

It’s another couple of days before I give Inyez the all-clear to fly after his injuries have healed for a couple of months. We have to wait until nightfall until he takes to the air, but then he’s a dark blur against a darkening sky until I cannot see him at all. It makes me breathless when I realise that he’s lost to the night—what if, I think, he decides right then that he prefers the night and its freedoms to me? What if he misses his family, his friends, his former life. When he lands in front of me, panting and exhilarated and beautiful, I wrap him into my arms and crush him to my chest, burying my face against the side of his neck.

“What’s happened?” he asks, petting fretfully at my face and hair. “What’s wrong? Did you think I’d not come back?”

“Yes,” I say, and the word chokes me, making me realise that I’m crying.

“Oh, sweet one,” Inyez coos, wrapping me in his wings as best as he can. “I would never. Why would I? I am fed and loved and pampered, and you are a very good snuggler. You don’t even have fur, but you are very warm! Why would I leave, mm? Tell me.”

“I don’t know.” I laugh damply. “Missing your family. Your friends.”

“I’ll visit my family when my body is stronger,” Inyez tells me, tutting softly and nosing at my ear. “They deserve to know where I am, and they can come and visit us when the spring comes. They’ll be jealous of my roost and my mate.”

“Am I that?” I ask, sniffling and pulling away to look down into Inyez’s eyes. Inyez turns his face away, however, and I recognise that he is shy.

“You could be,” he murmurs, “but it’s not official yet. To do that, we have to—well, have sex. Hopefully more than once.”

“Do you want to?” I ask him, stroking between his wings so that they relax and rustle softly.

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask,” Inyez says all in a gust, looking up at me plaintively. “I’ve been wanting to have sex with you for days. Weeks, maybe.”

I can’t help but laugh again. “You could have asked.”

“I could have.” Inyez pouts. “You would have said no, because of my wounds. You treat me like I’m fragile.”

“You are fragile, in comparison. But you’re right, I would have denied you. Now I won’t. So, ask.”

Big eyes blink up at me from that small, furry face, hopeful to their core. “Really? You’ll be my mate?”

I can feel myself grinning. “I’ll be your mate.”

Inyez wriggles against me, clutching at my clothing with a sudden fervour. “Mine?”

“Yours,” I assure him, drawing him against me and carrying him back up into the observatory. The next few minutes are a blur as we leave my clothing strewn across the apartment in a trail that leads to the bed, and I manage to find a bottle of lube I haven’t touched in months but mercifully has enough for at least a round or two.

Preparation happens before all else. Normally, this is the part where I would begin to lose interest because my previous partners have treated it like a means to an end, but Inyez is so sensitive and receptive that every little touch I give him sends him into a fluttering little tizzy on the bed. His prick is slick and red when it hardens out of its sheath, tapered at the end and thicker at the base. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I play with it with a careful touch that seems to frustrate and overwhelm the small creature beneath me in equal measure.

I drink Inyez in as he squeaks and squirms with my fingers inside him, watching his claws tear tiny little holes in the sheets as he grips them in his hands and trembles like a taut bowstring. When I finally push into him, he makes a noise like an exultation, and I fight to keep myself from coming right there and then when he wraps his legs around my hips and digs his feet into my ass to drive me in deeper. He wants more of me and I give until there’s nothing left to give, letting him adjust for a moment before I take up a rhythm that rocks the bed against the wall.

I need him, too, and I tell him so as I fuck him down into the mattress, listening to him mew and moan and say my name in a way more beautiful than any I’ve heard yet. He clings to the headboard when I roll him over onto his stomach, breathless and gasping raggedly, wings trembling like they’re weathering a storm.

“There!” he cries when I angle my hips a certain way, one of his hands diving between himself and the sheets to pump away at his hard, leaking cock. “Oh, please, there! There!”

“You want it?” I ask, and I hardly recognise my own voice, so low and guttural it is.

“Yes, gods, I want it,” Inyez mewns, almost sobbing with his need. “I’m close. I’m gonna—I’m—Please—“

“Tell me you’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay!” Inyez squeaks, not a hint of hesitation in his desperate tones. “I’ll stay, I’ll stay, I’ll never leave this roost! I swear!”

“Yes,” I growl, pushing my chest down against his back and reaching a crescendo that makes the headboard hammer against the wall. I come so hard and so suddenly that it feels like I get pulled inside out from the toes on up, and my vision whites out to the sound of Inyez wailing beneath me. When I come around, we’re tangled together in the sheets and I have him on top of me, both of us panting heavily and both of my hands buried into the soft, downy fur at the small of Inyez’s back.

“Christ,” says Inyez, and I choke on a laugh, turning my head to cough.

“That’s not an expletive.”

Inyez grunts. “You use it like one.”

I laugh. “That’s fair.”

Inyez takes a long moment to gather his thoughts, stroking the skin of my torso with careful fingers. “Would you be willing to meet my family?”

I blink up at the ceiling. “Of course. How many of them are there?”

“I have six brothers and eight sisters. I’m fifth down in the birthing line.”

My eyes bulge. “How old is the youngest?”

“Tiisa? She’s six months old. The oldest is in her forties.” I can feel Inyez smother a smile against my chest. “Mother says she’s done for now. We don’t quite believe her.”

I laugh, shaking my head up at the ceiling. “I would offer them shelter for the winter, but I don’t think they’d all fit in here.”

“Oh, Mother would hate it here,” Inyez chuckles. “It would be much too quiet for her liking. She likes life with the roost. I’ve always preferred quiet. This roost is perfect for us.”

Us. The word makes my heart swell, and I bury a smile against the top of Inyez’s head. “We’ll figure something out for their visit.”

“Mm,” hums Inyez, sighing softly before he sits up and smiles impishly down at me in the darkness.

“What?”

“Again.”

“Again?” I laugh, wrapping my hands around Inyez’s hips as they begin to rock and wriggle on my lap. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Your monster,” Inyez smugly coos, kissing my chest right over my heart.

#exophilia #gay exophilia #mlm exophilia #exophilia fic #exophilia lemon #monster lemon #monster fic #monster boyfriend #bat boyfriend #Inyez #a twink for you monster toppers out there ;3 #My work

[fuck-customers]

I work at a family owned dog grooming place! And I have the best boss ever. The dogs sure can get sometimes frustrating, but you know what really grinds my gears? Customers.

FUCK CUSTOMERS. FUCK CLIENTS.

Pisses the absolute shit out of me.

I have to try to not let it get to me and just breathe and defend my boss constantly. She cries sometimes Bc she cares too much and clients are ruthless!

How many times do I have to explain to a customer “IM SORRY MA’AM YOUR DOG IS MATTTED. We cannot brush through a MATTED DOG and you can’t have pompoms!” I’m super nice and everything despite mentally wanting to kms “ma’am. Your dog is matted. It has so many knots. De-matting is really painful, and it says here on file, your dog is extremely nervous. We can’t leave him fluffy and have the pompoms we have to shave him.”

Customer: “but can’t you just brush it out?? I don’t want him looking like a rat”

Proceeds to tell customers that we cannot leave him fluffy. *the dogs coat looks like a lamb and the comb won’t eveb pierce through the coat* “ma’am we can’t. Like it’s not that we don’t want to give you a fluffy haircut, we can’t. And it’s painful for the dog”

Cue- clients screaming and saying we abuse their dogs and that we just don’t want to work with their dog.

DEAR FUCKING CLIENTS,

*IF YOUR DOG IS MATTED ITS YOUR FUCKING FAULT FOR NOT BRUSHING HIM AT HOME. OH HE DOESN’T LET YOU? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK HES GONNA LET US* look, I’m not angry at the customers who do *try* to brush their dogs hair and it just so happens to be matted. Us- groomers can tell the difference between a dog who never brushes at home, to areas being matted. Or the top layer brushes but the knots just so happen to be close to the skin.

We will work with you guys. Swear. But clients need to fucking understand that, your dog is an angel at home, and *he is sweet* but your putting your dog in a situation where with a bunch of strangers, cutting and clipping, so many loud noises, so many dogs, *so much touching* that it’s gonna be scary for him. That’s why you have to be fucking patient.

So don’t you dare fucking clients, start telling us to hurry the fuck up, when your dog is fucking terrified. We have to give them breaks!! Let them calm down and give them kisses and tell them it’s okay.

And some dogs just won’t let us at all. Like period. Nothing. And you client, have to fucking understand that. This is the benefit of YOUR FUCKING DOG.

And we are trying to help your fucking dog but then all of you mother fuckers call us animal abusers.

We’re not the one who neglected your fucking dog to MATTS, or have so many fucking fleas that it’s crawling all over their eyeballs, who have severely bad skin issues. I take my sweet ass time, and go out of my way to get rid of all those ducking fleas Bc poor dog. Just poor baby doggy who are pure and innocent all Bc you don’t want to take him to a vet either.

Like I ducking love dogs. And if their stressed in the groom I freaking go help them and stop. Even give them cuddles on the couch and kisses. We take pictures and put costumes and show the clients pictures.

Please stop accusing us of hurting your dog, or giving your dog fleas, or abusing your dog, Bc that is not the case. Some dogs are just more sensitive than others and you just gotta understand that.

Whenever we *do* make a mistake and accidentally cut the dog, or something happens. WE ALWAYS LET YOU KNOW AND EVEN GIVE YOU A DISCOUNT OR FREE HAIRCUT. No charge. Makes me so mad that people accuse of all this shit how we don’t care for dogs.

Fucking check yourself client.

I see so many fucking dogs come in severely neglected.

Too many clients asking for last minute appointments, too many clients showing up HOURS late to their appointment, and saying we’re shit for not taking them in. Too many clients asking and requesting picky ass shit when your dog is difficult to work with. Too many clients saying “we give you business so you owe us” too many clients screaming. Too many clients saying abusive ass shit. Too many clients not wanting to give the rabies shot to their dogs and get angry at us. Too many clients getting angry at us for prices being too expensive, when we always try not to make it expensive. We do little things for not charging you extra for fleas, or de shedding, or nails. Whatever the fuck it is. Too many fucking clients saying they have a little dog and expect puppy price when their dog is fucking over 50 pounds. Too many clients lying.

We’re just tired. We started even collecting the fur and showing to clients and showing the comb and how we can’t comb that matted shit. But still we’re “animal abusers”

I just rather deal with the dog over you. I want to kidnap your dog and give it so many affection and kisses. Trust me, I don’t hate your dogs, I’m just tired of you clients for being shitty.

As an employee who works at a dog grooming shop, it’s not strange to have so many scratch and bite marks across your arms. It’s not strange to have poop on your clothes Bc dogs get scared they express their anal glands all over you. It’s not strange for a dog to pee all over you. It’s not strange to have some kind of injury. You get use to the bites and growls, which is why, you gotta give your fur baby space and time. We work with him, it breaks our heart when he’s crying and screaming. We do this because I fucking love it. I fucking love dogs so much that they fucking piss all over me, bite my arms (that’s why we need fucking rabies) and all kinds of shit.

Do I want them to bite me? Of course not. I try not too lmao. We muzzle them if we need too, but sometimes muzzle them stresses them out even more, so we don’t.

When we ask you to give anxiety treats or relaxer treats, please fucking do it. Your dog is too stresss, don’t fucking fight us.

Too many clients for fighting little ass shit. If your dog takes five hours, then it takes five hours, your dog needs a break too. Fuck imagine your on a table standing for that long. Older dogs, especially!! Since they can get too stress to the point of a heart attack. If it takes longer, it takes longer. There are ways to work around a stress dog, but you fucking client? I can’t say anything to not make you angry.

I can’t say anything to fucking clients without “me having to be fucking wrong” like bitch no. Your dog doesn’t want that, so why are you forcing your dog to have certain grooms when he doesn’t like it?

I had a fucking customer yell at us Bc he wanted his dogs ears standing. But his fucking dog has ears down. Ma’am it’s like your asking me you want to be taller. That’s dog genetics not fucking hair cut groom. Like what the fuck.

#fuck clients #fuck customers #dog grooming #submission