#my kennel.... my collection of dogs....

[magnus-and-the-dragon]

current status: bolted up wide awake at 3 am, apparently because there is a specific style of kennel I don’t know how to use at the shelter I started volunteering with, and brain feels the need to gnaw itself raw until I have answers

to be clear, i noticed this issue at my first shift on SATURDAY. i’ve now been awake with it for an hour. i was fine when i went to bed. i don’t know what kind of weird fucking tripwire I walked over in my dreams but I would like it to STOP.

#this is so goddamn stupid and also 100% the kind of thing that will worm into my brain and prevent me from ever going back #like thanks i hate it? #the problem is this: some of the kennels have lil doggy doors that connect to outside kennels #and i THINK what the person said was to leash them from inside and then go outside to collect them #to like reduce traffic in the hallways #but issue number ONE is that i am experiencing terrible anxiety about the outside door being unlocked / open for some stupid reason #and thus accidentally releasing a dog #and issue number TWO is that it just seems ?? less than practical? to try to put on a leash and then sneak out of the kennel #what if they dart out with me instead of going outside to wait. what if i get lost trying to find the outdoor side. #what if i take too long and they eat their leash. #and ALSO i know the doggy doors are not open all the time but i do not know exactly how to open them #AND THIS IS SUCH A STUPID CLASSIC CASE OF #IT IS NOT POSSIBLY AS COMPLICATED AS MY BRAIN IS MAKING IT OUT TO BE #I JUST NEED SOMEONE TO REASSURE ME THAT IT IS FINE #…………….. which is less than fucking ideal when i don’t know anyone #like i do not know what i actually need to Ask. except maybe ‘can you show me how the outdoor kennels work’. #but that just feels like such a stupid fucking question that will make anyone go ‘🧐 you stupid?’ #and also pull them away from what they are doing for a silly amount of time #UGH!!! #this is barely even a problem. and certainly not an ‘awake for two hours at 3 am’ problem. #and i would like brain to stop gnawing at it now #so fucking silly

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Maybe one with bunny!hyrbid!reader and Natasha “adopts” her and just fucks the shit out of her with her strap (or her real cock if you prefer to write that)

Run Rabbit Run

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: fem!bunny!hybrid!reader x owner!Nat

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: Natasha can’t help but grant her bunny all her little wishes

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, dom!Nat, sub!reader, age gap (legal), ownership, size kink, strap on, artificial cum, slight breeding kink, pillow humping, slight somno, masturbation, crying during it,

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

𝐌.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

What to do with all the money you make as an Avenger? That was a question Natasha had ask herself more times than she could count. Sure currently was her monthly pay check and all the money she made from interviews and social media was rotting away in her bank account, because she was never a fan of making herself gifts nor did she have time for it. But now with Easter just around the corner the Russian decided to not only do something against her overload on money but also against her loneliness.

She wanted a hybrid, not just some brainless pet but something that could actually understand her. The concept of owing a hybrid wasn't new of course it had been around for years, back in the days they actually hunted them from nature but nowadays there was no need after they got a hang of how to domesticate such a creature.

Natasha stepped foot in one of the only places in the whole of New York who sold these rare creatures- Tony had recommended it to her after once more bragging about his large collection. The over friendly employee showed her the different enclosures all while the employee tried to keep it together- after all you didn't see an Avenger daily not even when working for a prestigious company like she did.

Natasha first visited the cat hybrids, cute but too stubborn, then the dogs, too dependent, foxes were too clever for her taste though especially the polar foxes caught her eyes. Bears and any other large animals would be too much work and needed too much space. The right pick was right on her nose she wanted to get herself a bunny.

Standing in front of the enclosure which held you and a few of your companions Natasha and the employee stood, her gaze never leaving your body. You didn't alter much from a normal human, except for the fluffy bunny ears, little tail and over all smaller build you looked like any other girl. You were going to cost her a hefty amount of hard earned money but for your rare breed, Natasha couldn't care less about that in the moment. The way you stat there so carelessly reading some book which laid in her lap, made you different in her eyes more intelligent maybe? She wanted connection and not some braindead doll after all.

"The one in the pink collar… is she still to have?" Natasha asked the employee you gave her a quick nod. "Yes, she hasn't been here for long though the ones like her normally get adopted quite quickly." Nat only hummed in approval she couldn't wait to have you in her home. "I'll have her in a private kennel"

Meeting a potential owner made you nervous of course you had been trained to and prepared on how to act in such a situation, how to appeal to any potential owner - though you secretly hoped for a female buyer. You tried your best to hide your shy nature from the older woman who awaited you but Natasha found it charming how your, compared to your body, large floppy bunny ears hang low but twitched up when she spoke to you in a gentle manner.

Natasha approached the situation with a calm demeanour- she knew about the shy nature of a bunny like you. As soon as you were comfortable enough to approach her she started to pet over your smaller head with careful hands- and you loved it. By the end of your get to know each other you sat on the redhead's lap clinging on to her. But you weren't parted for long Natasha signed all the paperwork the same day and at the start of the next week you were able to move in with her.

She had given you a nice room, with many books, TV and games to entrain yourself with while she would be working. You came with the clothes from the centre, a basic white bluse, white skirt everything in white , like any other hybrid except for your coloured coded collar which adored your neck so the employees had an easier time keeping hybrids a part. Natasha started to take great joy in precisely choosing each outfit for you. Price didn't matter to Natasha, if she found something to be cute she bought it for you and Nat was known for expensive taste. Sooner or later your closet was fuller than hers, filled to the brim with shorts, blouses, floral summer dresses anything which had a playful feel to it.

Natasha was a busy woman though, often being away for days at a time, she normally made up with expensive gifts and extensive cuddling for her little bunny girl. But that hardly was enough to satisfy your need to be close to the older woman, not to mention that you were worried sick about your owner once you had found out that she wasn't a simple business woman but an avenger.

Natasha came home at around 3 AM after a long mission in Europe the jet lag and sleep deprive was killing her, and since she thought you'd already be asleep at such a late hour- and way past your agreed on bed time, she'd just go to sleep already. As soon as she had stripped to her underwear and her face had it the pillows she was dead asleep, little did she know that you weren't.

Next door you were awake, not only that but you were desperate. This had never happened before yet you immediately knew what it was. You had your first heat, and nothing helped, no toy's from the centre, no playing with yourself, no nothing. You had a pillow under your hips probed up at the seams you humped the pillow like your life depended on it.

You mewled as your already sensitive cunt graced over the edge of the pillow. You were close to cuming but you couldn't bring yourself over the edge. That's when you heard Natasha rummaging through the house you're floppy bunny ears twitching up to detect the source of the noise. You waited patiently in your room trying to find some sleep, maybe Natasha could help you out in the morning. But you could feels your juices sticking to the inside of your thighs.

With small steps you made it into Natasha's bed room tears of frustration already building in your eyes threatening to spill over your blushing cheeks. Carefully you climbed into her bed to find her in a deep slumber laying on her back. You sat down on her on her thigh your pussy making contact with her soft skin.

Slowly you started to rhythmically move it against the limp muscles of her thigh small whimpers falling from your throat in between the sobs of frustration paired with the cries of her name and the tears rolling down your cheek it made a whole picture.

Natasha peaceful face scrunched up in confusion of the sensation when she slowly woke from her slumber she was utterly distraught. Her sweet little bunny humping her thigh like a bitch in heat. With careful hands she stopped your hips and you immediately broke out into a new round of sobs and cries.

"Sheesh" she hushed you petting over over your low hanging ears "You're just in heat bunny, it'll be over soon" She assured you when you pressed your face into her neck. "I want it over now!" You cried out "what about the advice the centre gave you?" She tried but feeling you so desperate and need had an affect on her too.

"Doesn't work" You huffed out "I want you to play with me" Nat was startled by the request, was it morally right for her to sleep with you? It was the main point of criticism surrounding owing a hybrid, but what if not the owner but the hybrid wanted it. "Please" you whined and the assassin's strong will broke right there. "Wait here bunny I'll go get something" You nodded and released Natasha from your grace watching her go.

She came back with a noticeable bulge in her sleep shorts, which upon seeing made your thighs clench together. "It's not going to hurt bunny" She assured and got behind you pulling her shorts down to reveal her, to your body size massive, strap on. She pressed the fat tip against your entrance and your hooded eyes flew open in surprise at the shear size of the toy.

"Natty, it's to big" You mewled out your cotton tail twitching "It's not gonna fit" Natasha scoffed shaking her head as if you had just made an outrageous statement. "I'm gonna make it fit bunny" She pushed forward and your bunny hears flew up in surprise of the stretch. You hands dug into the soft pillow underneath your head as you whimpered in a mic of pain and pleasure.

"Natasha!" You cried as she bottomed you out the stretch being much greater than you could've accomplished with your little fingers. "I'm gonna move now bunny" You nodded and felt her starting with a comfortable rhythm which made the pain turn into pleasure.

By your sweet moans she could tell how much you liked it and fastened her pace to finally give you what you wanted. With deep thrusts she stroked your G spot making you see stars as she too enjoyed the feeling of the strap running against her clit. You mewled out some words she couldn’t make out but took at as a sign of approval for her to keep going.

With both of her hands on your hips she forcefully slammed into your tight heat making sure to not actually hurt you. You arched your back one hand sneaking to your neglected bundle of nerves rubbing it in tight circles. “Fuck are you close?” Natasha asked there was a certain tiredness in her voice still. She clenched down harder on the silicone and mewled out “Yes, please”

“Fuck cum with me” with a few more fast thrusts you came first you’re juicing coating the lower stomach of the black widow. She had a surprise for you when you noticed a thick liquid gushing from the strap into your womb as she came. After having cum herself she pulled out to watch in an awe how the white cum was dripping from your stretched out hole.

After having cleaned you up Natasha could finally rest but not without you resigning on her chest of course. Call it what you wanted for Natasha those feelings of affection were real and of no ill intent she just did whatever you wanted to ensure happiness. With that thought and still cum dripping from your hole both you and Natasha fell asleep.

:)

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #lesbian smut #lesbian #wlw ns/fw #marvel woman x reader #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction

[organsoutsidelovinglydescribed]

Body Horror Week Prompts Are Live!

Welcome to Trigun Body Horror Week 2024!

We’ve set up a week of fantastic flavors of bodily horrors for you, and here is our official post sharing the prompts for you to cook with.

Body Horror Week is going to run from Feb 11th, 2024 until Feb 17th, 2024

For each set of prompts, we have an organ, two different songs, and a quote to inspire you into making the best horrors you’ve got.

The official hashtag for the week is #trigunbodyhorrorweek, and we’ll do our best to reblog your submissions the day of and whatever we may have missed during the week, we’ll reblog after. Feel free to tag us as well!

An AO3 collection is forthcoming.

There’s a copy of the prompts list below the cut, as well as links to the A-Sides and B-Sides for the music.

The art for the graphic was done by the wonderful @hashtagcaneven

Link for the music A-Sides and the B-Sides as playlists. Spotify playlist here.

Feb 11th: Eyes | Mama – My Chemical Romance | Mask of My Own Face – Lemon Demon | I hate it when humans and augmented humans ruin things for no reason. Maybe because I was a thing before I was a person, and if I’m not careful, I could be a thing again. - Network Effect, Martha Wells (Murderbot Diaries)

Feb 12th: Skin | This Body – The Dear Hunter | Hurt – Johnny Cash | Skin against skin, blood and bone / You’re all by yourself, but you’re not alone / You wanted in, and now you’re here / Driven by hate, consumed by fear – “Bodies”, Drowning Pool

Feb 13th: Lungs | Sin Eater – Penelope Scott | Between Two Lungs – Florence + the Machine | I remember seeing myself splayed across the floor of the kennel, a chimera split along a hundred seams, taking communion with a handful of dogs. - The Things, Peter Watts

Feb 14th: Heart | Love Me Dead – Ludo | Your Body, My Temple – Will Wood | The heart wants what it wants. What it wants is blood. - Welcome to Night Vale Twitter

Feb 15th: Limbs | Blood – My Chemical Romance | Body – Mother Mother | Pluck that crimson orb rusted package from the branches mother’s arms our tree you’ve chopped away at for too long with your mouth-bright ax pretty-teethed boy. - “A Brother Named Gethsemane”, Natalie Diaz

Feb 16th: Intestines | Void – Melanie Martinez | Blood on My Name – The Brothers Bright | It is a corpse rotting slowly from within while maggots writhe in its belly. - Warhammer 40k

Feb 17th: Alien | Roots – In This Moment | sprorgnsm – superorganism | To be trapped, unmoving, within the body that has betrayed her so often, feeling every sensation as it grows and warps and sprouts, never knowing what new mutation it will visit on her next. - The Magnus Archives, Episode 171, "The Gardener"

#trigun #trigunbodyhorrorweek #trigun maximum #trigun stampede #trigun 98 #trigun events #vash the stampede #fandom events

[dante-mightdie]

Just found you blog, and saw you mention "fosterowner!price and doghybrid!141+you" and a thought has never been better

Price with his mismatch pack of pups, always having to scruff the nearest one from niping or barking,

I know for a fact Soap and Ghost the asshole are always eating your food before you can get to it,

You're just so much smaller and their bigger you understand right? (No you don't, closer to hell with your hight, you've decked them right in the stomach for it)

Poor price he trys his hardest to keep the peace, and only when y'all are working on a mission is when y'all finally shut up about who price scratched behind the ears more,

Speaking of which, I don't make the rules but Johnny's leg twitches in tandem with his tail the second price goes in for a rub behind those soft ears :))

Gaz (he's a Doberman right?) Being the nicest of the pack, great for bodyguarding any clients on a mission and they just love him so much, cut to Soap mimicking him to try and get the same praise,

Ghost is your biggest rival in the pack, he's just that much bigger than you that no matter what you do it's like a Pomeranian yapping in his ear,

Price always scruffing you after you get a little to worked up at Ghosts indifference to your gnawing, (Simon knows no reaction works you up more that one, he does it on purpose, bastard)

-

P.s. bluecollar!Simon is giving me the biggest brain-rot right now

-Love Sins (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

laswell said you guys were temporary. that john was only watching over you all until she found you permanent placements

but john is so attached to you all now. and you guys don’t even realise that you’re a bonded pack now

all of you having a pretty rough past :(

gaz is the most perfect boy. so well behaved always, even the enemies have to stop themselves from giving this little cutie some ear scritches <3 can be found in johns office, napping under his desk on his feet or knelt between johns legs getting pets

but john found out that he was a stray on leave, no home or owners to go back to after deployment. found gaz shivering on the streets of london and immediately snatched him up

simon was rescued from a dog-fighting ring. price was on a mission involving hybrid trafficking and stumbled across this big lad. simon was absolutely feral, snapping sharp teeth at anyone who tried to come near him

price had no choice but to muzzle him and manhandle him :( price overheard that he was gonna get put down because he wasn’t letting anyone get close to him

simon was actually given permanent placements but was always sent back to price because he was too aggressive with anyone else that wasn’t him

soap my love :( poor thing was found in the base kennels by nikolai. cramped in a metal crate with a sad look on his face. kept getting sent back from his permanent placements for being to energetic, too rowdy

price immediately came to collect him and he’s been with him since. has to be taken on walks and played with regularly otherwise he’ll cause mayhem. price left him in his office for a few hours and came back to his couch pillows all ripped up :(

has one of those big ropes to play tug of war with

price carries treats in his pocket for all of you, sneaking them to you during long car rides

you’re the runt of the pack. this doesn’t mean they don’t love you and price does not reject you but you’re not as strong as the rest of the pack

deep down they’re actually very protective of you

this doesn’t stop them from being absolute bastards to you though

taking your toys, eating your food, roughhousing and play fighting with you. simon absolutely loves putting his scent all over your toys and bed because he knows how much it annoys you

cuddle piles are a thing after missions just saying. all of you crowded onto one bed, sprawled all over each other. gaz and soap drool on simon as you lay across his legs

john taking pictures and keeping them in a hidden folder on his phone

you know that thing that dads do where they just smack the side of the dog repeatedly to pet them? john does that to simon specifically

if it was anyone else, simon would rip their throat out with his teeth but john doing it keeps him grounded. no one says anything when they see his tail wagging lazily <3

#mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #soap mactavish #mw3 #soap mactavish x reader #gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz x reader

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

HAZBIN CHARACTERS IF YOU GOT A CAT

This is a follow up to my aninal lover post.

Alastor

Confused as to where you got an actual cat in Hell.

At least it's not a dog.

Will say he doesn't like cats and complain about it getting fur everywhere but constantly has the cat near him while he's boradcasting, idly petting it.

If the cat is a menace and knocks things over a lot, especially while he's broadcasting he's using his shadows to restrain it or throw it out.

He literally makes a shadow cage for it sometimes when it has zoomies and attacks his feet.

Is annoyed with you for laughing and calling it "baby jail".

The cat better be useful and actually hunt the pests around the hotel.

He's feeding it flesh as a treat guys. Just accept it.

Charlie

OMG YOU HAVE A CAT!!! AN ACTUAL CAT!

She wants your cat and Kiki to be best friends.

Buys all of the cat toys. Expensive multi level cat trees. She cooks for it.

If it's not a cuddler, she's willing to suffer dozens of scratches just to hold it.

Has dozens of nicknames for your cat and spoils it all the time with treats.

Vox

Prefers dogs probably, but won't complain about the cat because it's more practical for people who are as busy as you all are.

He's mildly annoyed by all the cat hair everywhere, especially if it gets in his wiring or joints. Is also annoyed because he generates heat and hums from his mechanical parts, so the little shit literally won't leave him alone. It's hard to be an intimidating Overlord when there's a ball of floof on your lap/chest, and it purrs really loud to match your humming.

He swears he doesn't enjoy it, and you can hear him scolding the cat like it's a child whenever it does something, it shouldn't. Also has a kennel/cat carrier made to put the child, he means cat, in timeout. Threatens to feed it to his sharks while he watches it bap the tank glass for hours.

Buys it little ties and suits with his colors and logo on it since the damn thing wants to be with him at all times. If the child (cat) wants to come to meetings it's gonna dress the part. The cat is literally your child with him he just refuses to acknowledge it.

Valentino

Let's go with him not being the type of guy to shoot a pet for being annoying.

At first, Valentino doesn't like it because he just isn't an animal person. Like I said before he likes the idea of them more than actually having one. He does get annoyed with cat hair on everything and the little shit knocking things over.

However, let's say this cat is very sweet and snuggly. I think overtime he'd get used to it and begin to enjoy petting it and snuggling it. Maybe you, him, and the cat, all cuddled up to watch a movie. It helps him relax, especially if the cat is purring. He's also the type to dress it up and take photos with it.

Overall, I definitely think it's still more your pet than his, but he doesn’t hate it, and it does help him a lot, and he enjoys seeing you happy.

Lucifer

Cat dad. Immediately commits to that being your first child together. Like Charlie he will suffer unholy amounts of scratches to pet and cuddle it. Buys it fancy clothes and collars. Cooks homemade food for it. That's how I view it going down no matter where or how you acquired the cat.

However,

Honestly, he's probably the only one where you suggest outright getting a pet and pick out the cat together. You didn't even know an actual normal cat was an option for a pet in Hell, but he surprises you by taking you to some fancy ass place where high ranking demons have collected things from the mortal world and sell them. Running an actual high class, well documented, and strictly maintained cat breeding business, is a cat demon, and you two spend days meeting different litters of kittens and interacting with them in various scenarios to get a feel for their personality.

You guys definitely get a snuggler, because Lucifer really needs as much extra love as he can get. He excitedly tells Charlie she and Kiki are big siblings now and posts dozens of pictures on day one of owning it. You guys have a family portrait with the cat, Charlie, Vaggie, Razzle, and Kiki.

Refers to it as his child when speaking and calls himself dad and you mom (regardless of gender. You're mom)

Alternatively, he's mom and you're the father. He thinks gender norms are bullshit anyway. He can be a mom, he can shapeshift. (Also ya know, he apparently birthed Charlie).

Charlie loves her new feline sibling and brings Kiki and Razzle over to play all the time. It helps her spend more time with her dad too.

Angel Dust

He's a pet mom too! Will bring Fat Nuggets with him to play with your cat.

You guys dress them up and do photo shoots with your cats. Angel has an entire social media account now dedicated just to your cat and Fat Nuggets and eventually the other Hotel Pets.

He likes that both your cat and Nuggets can tell when he's had a bad day, and therefore you can tell. He likes that you can just sit with him in quiet solidarity, or play music, or a podcast, or just talk shit to distract him. He loves Cherri, but her method of getting through stuff is kind of exhausting for him sometimes.

Your voice, a kitty purring (if only it was Husk), Nuggets nuzzling his floof, that's kind of all he needs right now.

Husk

He and the cat just stare at each other, sometimes for hours, just staring. The cat will make little chirps, and he'll do it back if he's not thinking about it.

If the cat hisses at him he hisses back.

Skippity baps. The cat started it, he swears, and he just bapped it back.

Both of them high and catnip with zoomies. So much shit gets knocked down. Alastor strictly forbids Husk to ever get near the stuff again afterwards.

Alternatively, he, Kiki, and your cat, sprawled in a patch of sunlight, and all purring as they doze.

#hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #vox x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk

[grison-in-space]

Man, Robert Kaleski really is a great counterexample to that whole "the lone autistic eccentric, immersed in his dogged study and obsessions, is the genesis of truth!" trope that you'll sometimes see "aspie supremacists" trot out as part of a justification that autistic (or ADHD) people are Better, Actually.

My good bitches, sometimes what happens is simply that dogged pursuit of one's own pet theories blinds us to the truth of corroborated sources, experimental evidence, and hypothesis testing.

Just because someone is autistic and fixated on a special interest doesn't mean they're right about it. Sure, you can see how someone might look at Dalmatians and cattle dogs and come to a conclusion that some of one might have influenced the other. I reckon that by the 1930s, when the first appearance of the Dalmatian lore appears, Kaleski had enough exposure to Dalmatians to know that they are all born white or almost white and develop the characteristic spots as they grow—just like his beloved heelers develop roan and speckles as they grow. Dalmatians are all almost certainly homozygous for a modifier mutation adjusting the expression of roan that is not found in cattle dogs, but Kaleski can be quite forgiven in the 1930s for not knowing that: the study in question only came out last year. However, he might easily have realized by inquiring to kennel clubs, a Dalmatian club or breeder in his country, or simply perusing various books of British dog breeds — a self admitted enormous pastime! — that his timeline of a dog breed standardized in 1890 being infused to any great degree into his familiar cattle dogs before he personally would have observed evidence of the cross in 1904, after nearly twenty years of studying cattle dogs, is impossible.

Unfortunately, despite his careful observation of things that he felt confirmed his theories about dog function and evolution, he failed to look for any facts that were difficult to reconcile with them. Scholarly study of natural history would immediately have poked holes in his frankly batshit bonkers theory that bears were descendants of Tasmanian devils while dogs and cats derive from thylacine. Miacis was discovered in 1872. Cuvier had famously and correctly identified marsupials as a parallel clade to placental mammals a full century before, in 1816. There was abundant information available to Kaleski with which to test his theories about natural history and the known consensus of the evolution of his local Australian fauna.

Special interests encourage us to absorb, collect, and integrate information that might not strike a neurotypical person as interesting. But there is absolutely nothing about that interest which protects us from collecting and absorbing incorrect ideas, connections, and justifications as we amass our hoards of knowledge. We have to test our own assumptions, every step of the way.

#Kaleski

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, animal death, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: In honour and love. 2562 words.

Author’s Note: We pick up where we left off.

1986

“You’re welcome…”

Your feet were planted so solidly on the ground it was as though you’d grown roots. He took the few steps needed to almost close the space between you.

“Why… why are you helping?”

Oh.

Your body had an almost visceral reaction to his voice. It was more than a familiar sound; it felt like home. You wanted to cry. “I... I… Uh- That’s hard… to explain…”

He looked you up and down, then accepted your answer with a nod.

“I need to… need to bury him,”

“Let me,” the man moved faster than you, scooping the dog’s body up and holding it against his chest.

“Oh… No… He can’t be dumped somewhere. I need to bury him. He deserves to be honoured.” You could feel embarrassment bubble up, something you weren’t used to. It was easy to talk about the craft around witches. It was easy to hide it from humans with clever language. It was entirely illogical, but you needed him to understand what you were saying. You were afraid he’d laugh or deny you this rite.

The man looked from you to the dog. “I know where to go. If you’ll take us,”

“How… Do… Do you remember? Being a bat?”

He nodded. “I am… starting to.”

As the vampire dressed in borrowed clothes, ones that fit more poorly than the last, you picked the best apple in your fruit bowl and a piece of Apache Tear obsidian from your crystal collection, stashing them in your bag.

You checked outside the trailer for nosy neighbours. The coast was clear and you walked to your car. The man had never been in a car. He’d seen them. Knew, in theory, that he just had to sit in it. Still, it presented a challenge.

When you unlocked the passenger side door and opened it for him, he stood awkwardly for a second. “Unless it's close enough to walk?” you asked him. He shook his head and got into the car, holding the dog’s body like a security blanket.

As you drove out of Forest Hills, you stopped at the main entrance. “Which way?”

The man nodded north.

You turned the radio on to fill the silence, assuming there was no conversation to be had.

“You do not belong in this place,”

“No. I don’t,” you agreed. “I used to be. Before the town, before… this lifetime… I lived here with my sisters,”

“They are not here now,”

“No. I’m the only witch here,”

“A witch,” he repeated, nodding to himself.

“Do you know what that is?” you asked.

He looked at you, his eyesight unaffected by the night. “I… may,”

“Oh… Okay. Well. Are you remembering anything else? About what you are?”

“I need blood.”

Of course, he’d know blood. “You will die without it. Well… A kind of death. Eventually. That would be very painful for you though,”

“Yes,” he said, like he knew that. Perhaps the thirst for blood was so innate that the knowledge he’d die without it was too. “Vampire.”

The word startled you. It was still surreal. It was as if a Tasmanian tiger or woolly mammoth were to walk out in front of your car.

He was a vampire. A vampire you had helped. A vampire you had taken a living thing to, to kill. It hadn’t occurred to you until then that you could have simply healed the ridgeback. You could have healed all the animals in Hawkins Kennels, instead you took one to its early death and devoted time to a vampire.

You focused on your breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

“Do you know your name?” you asked, needing the conversation as a distraction. Once telling him yours, you waited, but he shook his head. “We might need to give you one. Or, at least, a nickname.”

Between your limited knowledge of the roads of Hawkins and the fact he’d only ever seen it from the sky, it took a while to locate the place he intended to bury the dog. It wasn’t unpleasant driving empty streets with him though. You wondered if it should have been.

A partially overgrown road, unpaved and a threat to your car tires, was where he lead you. As natural landmarks began to come into focus, the moon’s rays the only light for miles, you felt the growing sense that you’d been to this place before.

When your car came to a dead end, you cut the engine. “Is it far?” you asked.

The man shook his head and waited for you to open his door.

He walked in front of you, flattening a path. Over the tall grass you could see you were coming to a wooded area. You smelt the oak before hitting the edge of the trees.

“Was this a witch?” the man asked, stepping out of your way.

Before you, constructed between two tall sycamore trees was a doorway of sorts. Hundreds of branches and sticks had been used to create a near-perfect circle. They were woven and stuck together to build an arch over and under. A gateway to the woods, not one that defied science, but still an oddity seemingly supernatural in origin.

“How… how do you know this place?”

He had no answer, so he stayed silent. It was just one of many parts of the flatlands, of Hawkins, that as a bat he watched over. He liked the forest doorway though, as much as he’d ever been able to like anything.

“I think… I think I’ve been here. I think I made this,” you said, voice dropping low.

“You cannot remember?”

It made no sense. You should have been able to remember. An unsettling feeling washed over you. Someone had been tinkering in the vampire’s mind, dislodging memories and letting them freefall. Surely, you didn’t have that in common.

When you didn’t answer his question, he asked another. “Is this a place… to honour?”

The dog.

“Yes. Yeah, it is.”

You took the lead, walking through the forest gate and looking back to see what would become of a vampire crossing a witch’s threshold. Nothing. Whatever magic had been there was long gone.

Not far from the gate, you stopped. The vampire understood, carefully placing the dog on the woodland floor. He stayed knelt on the ground and began to move sticks and brush out of the way. His movements gained momentum and soon he was moving faster than your eye could read. He was a blur, then he was standing next to a deep grave, the soil of which was dark under his fingernails.

You nodded when he looked to you for approval, then he laid the dog in the ground. While the vampire buried his victim, you gathered tokens from the nature that surrounded you.

Upon the grave, you laid butterfly weed and echinacea flowers, the apple, and obsidian.

“Hel, comforter in grief,

We ask you to receive this soul.

They lived pure, good, and true.

Hel, watcher of the dead,

We ask you to receive this soul.

Go peacefully now, no lament, no sorrow, nor rue.”

Standing side-by-side with a hexed vampire, you committed the dog to the earth not with a spell but a blessing, and grieved for the oath you’d broken.

“Go now,” he spoke. “I will come soon.”

Before you could ask what he meant, the vampire had gone from your side into the night. You waited in the car for fifteen minutes, the heater blasting stuffy air onto you. When he didn’t return, you drove home alone, only to find him perched on the roof of the trailer.

“That seems very dramatic,” you told him as he followed you inside. He was silent and all but invisible out there, still it seemed even an amnesic vampire couldn’t forget to have an operatic flair.

The trailer was warm and the artificial lighting soft. When you turned to him, you could see it on his face. The colour high on his cheekbones. The red on his lips. He’d found his way back to you, by way of more death.

…

1836

He watched you while you built the gate. Although he wouldn’t reveal himself, you could feel his curious gaze. It sent electricity buzzing through you, though you would burn at the stake before admitting that to yourself.

When he felt sure no townsfolk or coven members were joining you, he sauntered through the field, parting the long grass at will.

“Little witch. Why are you playing with sticks?”

You paid him no mind, which you knew would drive him crazy. He walked through the gate and around it, poking at the branches and making noises of discontent.

“If you aren’t going to help, you can go be a nuisance to your own kind,” you warned him, a stick pointed in his direction.

He swiftly grabbed the stick, tugging it hard, pulling you into him. It was the first physical content you’d made. The stick was forgotten as his cold hands wrapped around your upper arms, your chest pressed to his. He looked down at you, bared his sharp teeth in a smile.

“You don’t want me to go. Do you?” Your blown pupils were answer enough. He grinned again. “How can I help?” he asked, voice softening as he let you go and stepped away.

“I need… more…”

“More…? Sticks?”

You nodded dumbly.

He stayed close, within your sight, and moved at the speed of a human. You steadied yourself, regained your composure, and continued with your task.

The circular doorway would allow humans and witches to pass safely through the woods. It worked like a protection spell, once through it the individual would exist within a bubble, the bubble would take them through the dense and dark forest untouchable to vampires and foes.

On the other side of the woods, your mother had created one just like it, though she preferred to work in the daylight. Your penchant for twilight walks and midnight magic had, so far, gone unnoticed by the coven. Moonlight was a strong conductor, after all.

When the doorway was complete, holding strong against push and pull, you considered sending the vampire away. Somehow though, your magic felt stronger when he stood next to you. So, he stayed.

“Bloodline magic, far and wide,

Enchant this doorway so friends may hide.

Leaf and petal, wood and stone,

Protect our friends, return them home.”

You painted a circle of salt, sage, ground black cat bone, and mud around the doorway while reciting the spell. Then stood on the opposite side to the vampire.

“I dare you to cross through,” you said to him, a coy smile warning him of your witchy mischief.

“You wouldn’t be trying to kill me, would you, little witch?”

“If I were, it would not be with sticks and stones.”

He laughed, then considered you, his head cocking to the side. “If you want me to cross through, it will not be for free.” It was obvious he wouldn’t be able to walk through the circle, but the damage he would sustain was a mystery. What price would he put on shame or pain?

You huffed and crossed your arms. “What do you want? More stolen apples that you can’t eat?”

“A kiss,” he replied.

Your expression stayed playful; you held your nerve. He didn’t miss the way your breathing hitched though.

“For that, I want more,”

“Of course, you do,” he laughed, motioning for you to continue with a wave of the hand.

“Your name. A kiss will buy me your name.”

The vampire was quite pleased with himself for having held back that detail. He had predicted it would become useful. Witches and their silly little words and silly little names. It was all so important to them.

“You have yourself a deal.”

You clapped with joy, then bowed at the gate. “Please cross this witch’s threshold,”

“Oh, I do love it when you speak so filthy,” he quipped.

Tentatively, he approached the gate, waiting to feel his skin burn or something mystical and unholy. You watched amused at his sudden caution.

“Nothing will happen until you cross through,” you told him, trying to hurry him along.

He shot you a dark look that ought to have frightened you. Instead, you giggled.

The vampire took a useless breath in and jumped off the ground. He hit the circle like it was a brick wall, then was sent on a harsh rebound from the trees and into the tall grass.

You covered your face to conceal the laughter, waiting for him to reappear, ego bruised.

The wind whistled through the air and you thought perhaps you had pushed the vampire too far. Carefully, you followed his path from the gate out the woods and to where the grass began.

“Oh, vampire!” you called sweetly.

His voice came from all around you. All-encompassing whispers of, “Little witch, little witch, little witch!”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

The whispering stopped. You walked into the tall grass and found him lying on his back, casually lounging.

“Have you come to shower me in kisses?” he asked, fluttering his long eyelashes as you.

You knelt next to him, leaning over so your arms were either side of his head. “Give me your name,” you demanded, eye to eye with him.

“When I was born into this world, my mother named me Edward,” he said so casually, like it had never been a secret.

“Edward,” you repeated, a tone in your voice that made him smile.

“Are you disappointed? Would Molech suit better? Abaddon? Paimon? Or perhaps Lucifer Morningstar is what you expected?”

You looked down at him and saw through the shallow humour. “There’s a boy in the village. His name is Robert. It means bright star. His mother calls him Bobby and he answers when she calls,”

“Are you trying to distract me with a lesson?”

“Edward is of Old English origin. It means both fortune and guardianship. Which, in your case, does not fit quite right.” You didn’t reveal that his name was relatively new in human history, leading you to conclude he was not an Ancient vampire.

“Do your arms tire, Amabel? May I take this weight from you?” With vampire speed, he sat up, pulling you over him, your legs straddling his lap.

The game was fun. You held your arms out straight, letting them lean on his shoulders. “My assertion is that like Bobby, you will answer to a different name. I think I will call you… Eddie.”

You half expected him to argue. Instead, he smiled tenderly and snaked his arms around you. “You can call me whatever you want, little witch.”

Eddie listened to your heart, how it began to beat faster as you leaned down and ran the tip of your nose against his. His lips touched yours, his cool to your earthy warmth. You had kissed witches and humans and a few fae folk too. Nothing… absolutely nothing compared.

You rolled your hips against him, begging to be held tighter, instead he maintained the space between you, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against yours.

“What are we going to do?” he asked, in a moment of honest vulnerability.

Willing yourself not to cry, you left his sorrow unanswered and instead, leaned in to kiss him again.

End Note: Not me agonising over US English versus Australian. The Grimoire and timeline have been updated (links at top of post). Reblogs encourage me to keep writing! And, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Vampire!Eddie #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Witch!Reader

[oldguardleatherdog]

Getting into “pup space” and staying connected: a step-by-step approach

For pup players, achieving “pup space” - also known as "pup head" or "dog head", where your inner canine spirit comes to the fore as your primary sense of self-awareness and your human capacity fades into the background for a while - is our goal each time we're on all fours. Finding a consistent and dependable way to get there and maintain that connection can be challenging and frustrating.

Getting ourselves reliably "down there" - another term I like to use for inhabiting the realm of dog, the environment from a dog's perspective two feet off the floor where we inhabit a physical plane and level all our own, where the pup head can be sustained as we move through space - takes time and practice, just like learning a martial art or taking music lessons.

And like Brazilian jiu-jitsu and playing the trumpet, focused study of the elements that can induce pup space, combined with daily reinforcement of what we learn from that study – e.g., techniques, styles, movement breakdowns and Aikido forms, major and minor scales on your instrument - is the best way to achieve consistency. Practice makes perfect. Each time we go down to all fours, we go down more smoothly and quickly, we go deeper into pup space, and we can stay down there a little longer each time.

When I’m coming from a “cold” physical and mental stance, i.e., the times when I’m out of my normal constant light trance state and have been required to be “fully human” – 100% human, 0% dog – for an extended period, I have a routine to launch me back into pup space that’s tailored specifically for a cold start.

Going cold happens under certain conditions when I’m away from my home/kennel environment: if I’ve been traveling for more than two nights; after a meeting away from home that doesn’t involve kink (yes, it happens for lifestylers too); even at home if Master’s been away for a week and there was no boarding kennel or dog-sitter available to look after me.

Here's my “Cold Start” sequence:

It begins with the body. From a relaxed state, positioned on the edge of a couch or chair, wearing my pup gear, centered, balanced, leaning slightly forward from the waist, hind paws easily on the ground, front paws on knees, arms relaxed. My body posture and stance are inclined downward. My breathing is regular, centered, from my diaphragm (not my chest), then…

Sounds start coming out. The air I exhale just grazes my voice box enough to make a slight low sound “mmm” – lips together, then open to “huuuuuuh, huuuuuh…” and then a more animalistic “ahhrrrrr, ahrrrrr”. If you have a screen nearby, load it up with spirals or similar hypno images (there are many excellent pup spirals on Discord and YT, collect ‘em all!); if not, focus on a spot ahead of you about 2 feet off the ground. If you start to glaze over or blur, go with it (if it makes you uncomfortable, pull up and refocus/reset, then go back into relaxed stance).

Words begin, then degrade. Starting with fully-articulated human words, a three-word simple phrase -“Good boy Bruzr” – I repeat the phrase audibly in a half-whisper just loud enough for me to hear it, and as I look at my spot and feel myself heading down and forward to that spot [dog wants to see and sniff it already], I’m half-aware of my paws coming from my knees up to my chest and they start rubbing the sensitive spots (I’d stroke myself if I could but in this kennel, dogs don’t touch themselves, haven’t done it in 14 years for real).

As I repeat my doggy mantra, my tongue lolls out, making my words degrade into unintelligible speech, becoming “owooo, owooo, owooo” and I lean forward and down, then –

[gotta smell the spot NOW] and boom! I hit the ground, full-on 100% dopey happy dumb mutt Bruzr, just the way Master likes it, barking up a storm and howling my head off! and I'm where I belong, where I'm meant to be.

It's a repeatable process - a sequence of actions that I step through the same way each time I start from cold, involving body, sound, light self-hypnosis, breathing and relaxation, and a moderate nudge I give myself by speeding up my breath to rev up for the launch off the couch.

This all comes together to set up an unobstructed flow of energy starting at my physical center of breath (your breath is the closest thing to your spirit and serves as a key to unlock its power), taking my body to all fours in a smooth, unified, natural way.

I want to emphasize that this set of techniques is what works for me. How did I settle on this sequence? Practice, practice, practice. Trial and error over decades, going up and down thousands of times. But that doesn't mean you need to log that kind of mileage to get consistent and effective results!

You can do this solo. It’s important to be able to achieve pup space connection when we are alone; this is how confidence in a sense of the “pup self” is developed and made stronger.

If you want to try this method out and see how it fits, you can follow the steps and techniques as I describe them here, and/or you can take this sequence and use it as a flexible template, a baseline for creating your own sequence using elements (music, lighting, indoors/outdoors, etc.) that help you achieve relaxation and focus.

Change your usual setting. Experiment with your starting posture and stance. For vocalizing, play with sounds and words until you find that “sweet spot” that flows smoothly. Got a playlist you like that helps you trance out or get motivated? Let it rip!

One more thing: Be easy on yourself. No one, regardless of how long they've been a pup, achieves a 100% connection to full headspace 100% of the time - it’s ok to be frustrated. Keep practicing and give it the time you need and deserve.

During a play session, it's not uncommon for the link to fade and reset multiple times. Years ago, I was given a helpful trigger: When the connection drops, I take a deep breath and expel it with the same “ahrrrrr” sound I used in my sequence, restoring the connection and taking me deeper into pup space.

Don’t sweat it when it happens; jump right back and reset the connection. Our link to pup space can be mischievous and quirky, just like us! You’re not “doing it wrong” – there’s no such thing in Pup Play – you’re persistent, determined, doggedly sniffing out that signal! Trust that your connection will strengthen and become more persistent over time.

Practice, explore, refine, find what works, do it regularly and often, and you will be rewarded with positive results and deeper, dependable connections.

Thanks for reading! You’re the best pup! Yes, you are!

In Service,

Alpha Pup Bruzr (Animal J. Smith)

#pup play #gay pup #pup techniques #pup space #pup play community #animal j. smith #pup bruzr

[2treez]

I’ve always said that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle. But after reading the following, you’ll see what I just realized. 💜💜

Cheyenne

"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me. "Can't you do anything right?"

Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.

"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving."

My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.

Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts.... dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon .. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.

The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.

At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.

Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.

Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.

But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain.

Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article..."

I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me.

I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons: too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed.

Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hip bones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"

"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."

I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said. I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!"

Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw...

Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne . Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at is feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad 's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life.

And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it."

"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article... Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter... his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father... and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.

Life is too short for drama or petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live while you are alive. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second chance.

And if you don't send this to anyone -- no one will know. But do share this with someone. Lost time can never be found.

God answers our prayers in His time... not ours...

God doesn't give us what we can handle, He helps us handle (stands with us, and gets us thru) what we are given. In other words, God's Grace keeps Pace with what we Face!!

-----2 Corinthians 12:9

Winston is my Cheyenne….

🌳🐾🌳

[pippindot]

I’m so happy pip is doing well in her shows! I must admit though I truly don’t know what any of the letters mean but I root my internet dog friends regardless!!

A lot of people don't! I still don't know all of them. But it's so fun to collect letter......

I actually typed this up for my mom who asked the same question but here if you're curious:

BISS = Best in Specialty Show (she got this for winning Silkenfest 2023)

BOSS = Best Opposite Sex in Specialty Show (the winner of the Boofest specialty was a male, and so she was selected as the best female)

ABISS = Altered Best in Specialty Show (winning Best in Show in the altered classes)

HIT = High in Trial (highest score across all classes for the day in rally/obedience)

ISWS Ch = Conformation champion through our breed club

UKC Ch = Conformation champion through the United Kennel Club

UKC RO1 = UKC rally novice title (UKC puts these titles in front of the reg name)

Sundance Wings of Inanna is her registered name

RN = AKC rally novice title

ATD = Advanced Trick Dog though Do More with Your Dog

RATI = Rat Instinct (found a rat in the sport of barn hunt lol)

CGC = Canine Good Citizen (AKC)

SPOT = the UKC equivalent of CGC

#that's all the soup we got for now... #pipask #alphabet soup

[obaewankenope]

I have some sad news and need help as a result

So, to those who follow me and were aware, I fostered two dogs back in August this year with my mother. One of them, my mother adopted (rip me). The other got adopted.

Her name is Lady.

Lady went missing for a week literally minutes after being adopted. She found the one bit of fencing that she could scramble up and over of her adopters home. For five days, she hid in woods and streets surviving as best she could, using her experience as a street dog for two years in Bosnia.

We eventually found her and she came to me because she recognised my voice and the song I sang to her. This was both miraculous and unsurprising. She knew my mother and I and had bonded with us in her month with us in our home. Prior to being with us, she had been in kennels and on the streets.

Her adopters have had to make the difficult decision to return her to the rescue due to a number of reasons, none of which are in their control. Their current dog is very big and young. He wants to play and be around her all the time. Lady does not. Before she went missing for a week, she was much better situated for such a reality. After a week of being alone and reverting back to survival instincts, she isn't.

My mother and I can't afford to have another dog. Financially and also mentally for me from the stress. Regardless, we're going to foster her again because she's most comfortable with us and Marley and Troy.

It's going to be hard.

I'm going to make a wishlist of things that we'll need for her (and the other dogs, since I don't doubt that they will also use and attach themselves to her) as well as try to give updates as regularly as I can. I'll add the wishlist link to a reblog when I've made it. It will likely be on amazon, unfortunately, since its the best for this.

Right now, however, our main issue to travelling to collect Lady. We just don't have the fuel to do so at this moment. I always hate asking for help with anything but this, right now, is something I need to do for Lady's sake. I will do anything I need to for an animal.

If you have anything to spare that can help us get fuel, food for her, a bed etc, it will be Greatly Appreciated [first link is my PayPal, second is my Ko-Fi].

If you don't and can't safely spare anything (do not put yourself out, that won't help you and I don't want you to suffer please), then reblogging this post and tagging it is fine.

It is all appreciated. No matter what.

Her adopters are willing to have her back again if her trauma is lessened and she can interact better with their dog but, as always, what's best for Lady and avoiding any conflict between her and their dog is the priority. They're not confident they can help her when she's had so much trauma in her life. At least with us, she's familiar with Troy and Marley and trusts my mother and I. That puts us in a better position to help Lady and rehabilitate her.

This is all just an unfortunate situation and no one is to blame here. The focus is on what's best for Lady.

#Help #Important #Signal boost #Dog #Please help #Fundraiser #Foster dog #Disability #Kat talks #I'm disabled and poor af but watch me go and try my best for this dog l

[zooophagous]

I wish I could help you somehow with Egon. He's such a beautiful dog and I grew up with 4 who were the same, they all made horrible, horrible messes on the carpet every morning, poop, pee, ripped trash, etc. So that frustration really hits home. I hope you don't mind me pinging my thoughts at u. If it is anxiety-related, do you offer him some sort of mental stimulation when you leave, like a frozen Kong or puzzle feeder? Are your reinforcers when he does pee outside ENORMOUS? (Sometimes it encourages them to hold it if they get like a raw treat or somthn.) Can you line his crate with something absorbent without him destroying it? Pee pads work really well.. I'd personally go for building a larger crate out of 2x4s with a wood chip, sand or horse pellet bottom, but I dont really know ur space restrictions, etc. I hope you can figure out his issues. Don't feel bad abt it either, you're not alone in that struggle by any means, dogs can be hugely frustrating dumbasses sometimes. ❤️

Thank you anon.

I think my general idea now is to put a kennel in the garage as his pee won't damage the concrete so much, and use materials that I can spray clean with the hose like a raised platform bed so he doesn't have to sit on hard floor.

He has a collection of chews and kongs that have kept him from eating shoes anymore, but he does still hang on to his pee related vices.

He's such a nice dog who's so good in public too and nice to other animals which is good because if he wasn't I think it would push me over my limit.

He just NASTY

[inciting-chaos-series]

The Night Shift: Chapter Three

If you'd like to be tagged when new chapters are posted let me know! -Ghostiewvlf

✦✦Update: Edited slightly :) -Ghostiewvlf

✦ The Night Shift Masterpost ✦

➢ Tag List: @valleys

➢Author: Ghostiewvlf & JTheGhost ➢ Rating: Mature ➢ Pairings: Corpse X reader | Corpse X y/n ➢ Themes: Slow Burn | Coworkers To Lovers | Angst | Holiday | Mutual Pining | Fluff | Smut? | Hurt/Comfort | Soulmates | Fake Relationships | Miscommunication | Forced Proximity | Found Family | ➢ Warnings: Crude Humor | Suicidal Jokes/Ideation | Drinking | Smoking |

➢Summary:

You work the night shift at a local dog kennel for boarding and daycare. You love the peace and quiet of the shift, but just when you get comfortable- a few break-ins happen around town, and upper management decides to place your quiet, brooding, shift lead on the schedule with you.

☽✧ Chapter Three: Musically In Tune ✧☾

-Y/N POV-

Your second class wasn't supposed to start for another fifteen minutes, but you really didn't have the energy to get out of bed. You hated that you only had one day off work, sure your job was alright, but using your other day off as the day to schedule all your classes was really not the move, because now you didn't want to attend the lectures. The text that popped up on your phone didn't help focusing much either. Why was he texting you? Did he want you to come in on your day off?

Logan 🐺:

Hows school nerd?

“Weird” You said aloud, laughing to yourself as the small adrenaline rush of having to come in dissipated.

You:

Not exactly better than work, but not worse 

Logan 🐺:

I can always call you in for an ‘emergency’ haha

You:

No thanks! Lol

Next thing you knew your phone was flooding with sad cat memes about school. Your face quickly started to ache from laughing so much. 

Logan 🐺:

Don’t tell the boss im memeing on company time

You:

You are my boss stupid 

Logan 🐺:

Oh, yeah… guess I am ;) 

It was so bizarre seeing this side of him. In just a week he had gone from this “quiet shift lead that no one really wants to talk to” to “coworker that you look forward to working with everyday” to now, acquaintances? Friends? You didn't really know. It was hard for you to draw lines between stages of friendship at work. Maybe he was just being nice to make you feel more comfortable around him? 

Logan 🐺:

So… what class are you in right now?

You:

Just about to start music theory 

Logan 🐺:

RIP haha

Need any help studying? I’m pretty good with music 

You:

I might take you up on that actually lol 

I never have time for this class so now im nearly failing

Logan 🐺:

Bring your stuff next shift and we’ll work on it :)

You:

Thank youuuu :’)

You turned the screen off on your phone and tried your best to pay attention during your lecture, but you couldn't shake the nervous energy you had built up thinking about the next shift working with him. 

It didn't take long for the next workday to arrive. You had barely slept at all, staying up studying and trying to catch up in your other courses was beginning to take a toll on you. You arrived barely on time for your shift, quickly getting the usual updates from departing day staff before clocking in. You headed into the break room and set your things down before collapsing into the seat and catching your breath. You’d just barely remembered to grab your music theory notes and homework, collecting them in a rush and making you run just enough behind that you’d be late if you picked up food for the shift. At least you would be able to get some help from Logan tonight though and hopefully your next exam would go over better than the last. 

The day shift quickly finished up and clocked out. Logan seemed to be running a bit late, so once everyone else had clocked out and left you began the duties of the night. You were on your second rotation of letting dogs out when you heard his car pull up, so you didn't turn to look when you heard the backdoor open and a few more dogs run out. You continued playing with one of the more shy dogs that was boarding for the night and watched to make sure everyone was getting along.

“Hey there.” You felt a warm hand on your back, a sharp contrast with the bite in the cold fall air. You tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach acting up. 

“Oh hey!” a slightly-too-loud laugh falling from your lips. 

“I stopped at Starbucks and got us some coffee.” An uneven smile painted his face, making him look almost comical with his cold bitten nose and pale skin, along with those signature dark circles under his eyes. 

“Oh wow, thank you! I was running late and wasn't able to stop for anything today.” You smiled and accepted the warm cup and took an eager sip, grateful to have some caffeine for the night. 

“Oh huh, perfect timing I guess? You're welcome.” He chuckled and offered a smile just as warm as the cup in your hands. “I can order some food or snacks later too.” He took a sip of his own cup and huffed, his breath forming a small cloud in front of him due to the freezing temperature. As much as you despised the cold and how it made your already poor circulation in your hands feel like pins and needles, you did really love the aesthetics of it: the clouds of breath, the way it made faces redden, the smell that was draped across everything the night before a big thunderstorm or heavy snowfall, the oversized hoodies and layered outfits that everyone seemed buried in, big boots with chunky socks- it was all very comforting in a way, it seemed to round out the edges in a very sharp world.

The night went by much the same as it began. There was a very comforting feeling about the weather and the mood that you were both in, even the dogs seemed very subdued. Time seemed to go by a bit slower, which you happily welcomed after weeks of vigorous study. 

Though time seemed to be lulling along peacefully, you got your nightly duties done in record time. You blamed the unusually well behaved dogs. It wasn't long before you were both sitting at the front desk again, joking around and playing some light music. He hesitantly showed you a few of his favorite bands. You assumed his apprehension was from fear of judgment. Lucky for him, you both enjoyed darker, more melancholy music. 

You both listened to his Spotify playlist while he helped you on your coursework. You bopped along to several songs you recognized as he read through your work. BONES, Xavier Wulf, and several other artists played softly through the speakers. 

“Mm, yeah not this one…” You sheepishly laughed as you clicked skip on Cholesterol, not needing to feel too melancholic tonight. He merely chuckled and nodded with firm agreement. You were surprised by his knowledge about music, he helped you get through the entirety of your homework, as well as explained a bunch of the questions you’d missed on the last exam you brought with you. 

“How do you know all this? I feel like you know more than my professor honestly…” You laughed as you finished up the last question and shut your notebook. He’d managed to explain everything all in a way that was actually making sense to you. He’d even related back to songs that played out softly on the speakers and used them as examples to the concepts. 

“I sincerely fucking doubt that…” He chuckled tiredly. “I just- know music I guess… I spend a lot of time with and around it, I uh-  I’ve even made a couple songs myself…” You smiled as you caught the red tint on his heated cheeks.

“Wait really?” You gave him a surprised look. 

“Yeah, I don’t know if they're any good, but I like making them.” He shrugged and passed you the keyboard  and mouse to play music. 

“Can I hear one?” You pried, making him slump into his chair further and groan softly.  

“Ahh I don’t know, y/n…” He huffed and rolled his eyes playfully. “I haven't really shown anyone, but I guess if you promise to not make fun of me…” he turned slightly and narrowed his eyes at you, “...or tell anyone here-  maybe I’ll bring my computer next time or something…” 

“Hmm, we’ll see…” You squinted back, jokingly challenging him before laughing.

“I’ll write you up I swear to god y/n…” He joked back, laughing along with you. 

“OoOkay boss man…”

➢ Links:

✦ Fics Masterlist ✦ The Night Shift Masterpost ✦ ✦ AO3 ✦ Wattpad ✦ Art ✦ ✦ Requests Masterpost & Guidelines ✦ Request Trope List ✦ 。:゜:.*∵✧∵ ☽ Submit A Request ☾∵✧∵*:.゜: 。

#The Night Shift #TNS #corpse husband #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #romance #slow burn #coworkers to lovers #fanfiction #fanfic #mutual pining #fluff #angst #Ghostie Howls #J Writes

[doobnnoob-tf2]

What do u think would happen if like.. Someone put a box full of puppies at the entrance of the base and left, would they take them in?? - ☕( Sorry if this is too Hard to understand english isnt my first language)

puppies?  left outside?  well they’re gonna be making some noise.  Sniper will most likely be the one to discover them.  he wouldn’t know what the hell to do at first, really.  eventually, he relents.  he’s weak, one of the puppies barks up at him and his heart melts.  he picks the box up and takes them inside so they’re safe from the elements and everyone can figure out what to do with them

upon bringing them in and setting the box down to show everyone, Scout and Pyro immediately pick out a dog each and start gushing.  Scout’s always wanted a puppy and immediately sets to begging everyone to let him keep just one please oh please oh please!  he swears up and down he’ll do everything for it and no one will even know it’s there!  Pyro is thrilled with the idea and starts to help with begging

Heavy and Demoman also each grab a puppy.  Demoman is quickly starting to be persuaded by Scout’s idea of keeping one.  he’s already coming up with the idea of turning one of his old grenade launchers into a tennis ball launcher.  the one Heavy is holding yawns and falls asleep in his arm and he moves away from the others so it may have more quiet to take its nap.  he pets it ever so gently, not even needing to be persuaded anymore

Soldier picks up the final puppy and already names it.  Sargent Barks.  he and Lieutenant Bites will be best friends, he just knows it!  he’s already setting up the first play date for them to meet, rambling on about all the battle plans he’ll have to change with this newest addition to the team

Spy is the one who suggests the idea they should maybe instead take them to a vet.  they’re mercenaries, not a kennel.  a vet can find them homes, that’s for the best.  why is no one listening to him?  they don’t have anywhere to keep a puppy!  no one points out that he’s yet to stop petting the one Scout is holding but everyone notices

Medic cringes, not because he’s opposed to puppies.. but because who knows if they’ve been vaccinated or have worms or are diseased.  he rounds them all back into the box and takes them down to the Medbay to run tests and give them what they need.  someone goes to accuse him of taking them for their organs and he scoffs at the idea.  they’re puppies, HE only deals with black market organs.  the audacity!

at the end of the day, Engineer collects the puppies and drives them to town so they can go to a vet and find homes.  he agrees, it’s for the best.  everyone is sad as he puts the box into his truck and drives away.  and yet no one stops to tell him that a disguise mask with a puppy drawn on it flutters out the window.  everyone looks around and Scout is nowhere to be seen.  Spy lights a cigarette and wonders aloud - in a very sarcastic tone - how that must have happened

don’t worry, you did great!  and I’m naming you Tea!  C:

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sharing one braincell #//Tea Anon

[nellie-elizabeth]

Writing Patterns

Rules: Share the opening of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to see if there are any patterns!

I was tagged by @ajna-eye-cogitations, thank you!!

[A note that when I picked the last 10 published, I skipped over all my short one-shot collection fics that I've been posting for years now, since those are cases where each chapter is its own individual story. So I just stuck to stuff outside of that!]

where the real road lies

Grief doesn’t feel like anything. Or— well, it feels like a lot of things, but nothing you can pin down. Maybe it’s one of those human experiences that can only be talked about in metaphor. Like, it feels as if my heart’s being ripped out of my chest, or it feels as if someone’s scooped me out, left me hollow, plunged my very soul into darkness. It feels as if, as if, as if.

(can't) get back again

It’s not a decision either of them is actually making. That’s what Michael tells himself when it happens for the first time, that he didn’t decide and Alex didn’t decide and in fact fighting the inevitability of it would only be adding more pain into a world already saturated with suffering.

small town halloween night

Maria gets home before Rosa, on Halloween night. They’d both picked up shifts for their parents, Maria at the bar and Rosa at the diner. It’s not the worst shift Maria’s ever worked, but she can’t help but feel a little melancholy on her drive home. A whole night of watching people her age, people she went to school with, cluster together with their friends, doing cheap shots... A year ago, that had been her. A year ago, dressed up with her skin out, doing shots in her friends’ kitchen, laughing at the movies and getting rice in her hair.

tell me that we belong together

September 2011 Michael always gets a little nostalgic about Roswell right before leaving it behind for a while. School’s starting in just a couple days, and that means saying a temporary goodbye to mornings like this one, lounging in their favorite booth at the Crashdown, the sounds of Arturo making their breakfasts carrying through from the kitchen, jukebox playing some song Michael only recognizes because he’s heard it playing in this very diner countless times over the years. They have their local haunts in Albuquerque by now, but he’ll always be a hometown boy at heart, and for better or worse, this is his hometown.

a work of fine art

Quentin Coldwater has fuzzy arms. It’s one of the first things Eliot notices about him as his volunteer life model settles down on the couch, crossing said arms across his chest in a nervous, nearly defensive move. It’s like he’s trying to fold his body into an origami box so all the outside parts will be on the inside, safe from Eliot’s eyes. But looking at the man in front of him is rather the point, so Eliot looks his fill, careful to catalogue every detail, despite how he can practically feel the waves of energy coming off of Quentin’s body, the frozen full-body cringe as he attempts to deflect the attention. Eliot indulges in it, keeping his face carefully neutral instead of giving in to the smile building up inside of him at the rather lovely display. Squirmy, awkward, cute naked boy, and Eliot gets to stare at him for a full uninterrupted evening. It must be his birthday.

tales from a bookshop

The bookshop has always been something of a sacred space for Crowley. Scratch that— not sacred, certainly not sacred, who the hell said sacred, honestly. And no more is it Hell’s cosmic opposite, profane, it’s only that— well, blast it, it’s only that A.Z. Fell & Co. booksellers has always been an important place for Crowley. Significant. Precious, maybe, though even the taste of such a word makes him want to scream profanities at someone who doesn’t deserve it, just to get the tickle out the back of his throat.

Shelter

The first thing Quentin did most mornings was locate the most excitable, energy-filled dog he could find in the kennels, and take the little terror out for a brisk, damp jog. Damp, because the Seattle air always seemed to be damp no matter the temperature. Brisk, because Quentin was not a jogger and a solid twenty minutes was usually as much as the lucky canine in question was likely to get out of him. He did this because he was usually the first person to arrive at work and he didn’t feel like making awkward chit chat with the night shift people, and also because it seemed a kindness: by the time his bosses Margo and Fen had shown up after their leisurely morning coffee routine, the most excitable of their furry residents had already had some of their energy burned away by Quentin’s efforts.

under the desert sky

Beyond basic necessities, the items Alex brings with him on their trek to the Grand Canyon are a fully stocked iPod, car charger, and a stitch-bound notebook slipped into the front pocket of his backpack. Michael brings his restored Nikon FM 35mm and six rolls of film.

the lengths that i would go to

Summer 2010 It’s early, so early that the sun isn’t up, the air around him still and quiet. Alex is awake, and for a second he doesn’t quite know why. His body is conditioned to wake early each morning, but this is something different. There’s a strange awareness, where paranoia meets familiarity. Alex knows, as consciousness filters into his brain, that there’s someone else in the room with him. He also knows, without having to open his eyes, that there is no threat, because it’s Michael. The bed shifts, and Alex blinks into the dim light, looking down to see Michael crawling up the bed towards him.

it might change my memory

June 2022 It’s Bonnie, of all people, who calms everybody down. Not Isobel with her power to mentally soothe, or Dallas with his preacher training and inviting sensibility. Not Liz with her practical, scientific mindset, or Michael, the one person in this room who theoretically has all the pieces of the puzzle and actually has a chance of knowing what the fuck is going on. It’s Bonnie who cuts through the excited, confused, unintelligible babble and says, quite loudly for such a small woman: “Okay! Seems like we have a situation! Everyone should sit down. I’ll make tea.”

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

Wow, okay, this was really interesting to see! It looks like a very common approach for me is "short, catchy sentence" followed by longer paragraph expounding on it. Like -- "Grief doesn’t feel like anything." or "The bookshop has always been something of a sacred space for Crowley." or "Quentin Coldwater has fuzzy arms." This is true across all the fandoms I write in!

It's crazy that only one of these ten examples has any dialogue in it at all, because I tend to think my dialogue skills are really sharp! I should start more stories off with it lol.

Tagging whoever writes and wants to participate! @portraitofemmy, @prettyboysdontlookatexplosions, @awildwickedslip, @spiders-hth-is-an-outlier, @r-dtoblack

#my posts #writing #my fic #roswell new mexico #the magicians #good omens

[todderwodders]

For the Commentary! This from Fire Walk:

“It is beautiful,” Korilla says, one big hand, ending in delicately filed to points nails tracing over the wooden wedge meant to be its head. It is less a proper dog and more a dog’s skeleton. His hours in Will’s kennels pulling and retracting his uncle’s dogs legs, prying their mouths open to peek inside, smoothing their cropped ears back and watching them pop back up as they dozed in the afternoon sun had paid off on his guess at the mechanism of movement, but things to make it look like a dog were harder to come by than the materials to make it move in the first place. He sets it on the floor and slides his fingers into the wire framed slot between its shoulders. The string is thick and taunt, he has to go slow, but it acts as catalyst to make the four dumpy, thick legs move. It is clunky and unnatural compared to a dog’s prancing gait, but no less pretty in its metallic clicking and clacking for the ten or so paces it takes before he runs out of string and thus, momentum.

When he turns, Korilla is sitting in the stairwell step, looking amused and amazed with her chin propped in her hand. Her eyes seem to glitter with something like new found appreciation, although why and for what, he does not fully understand. “And you made it all by yourself?”

He feels something warm, like sinking into shallow water in the summer, filling him up - he tries and fails to keep a smile off his face. “I did. I got all the parts myself, too.” 

“It must’ve taken a lot of butcher’s string and trash wire. They must think they’ve made less trash than usual.” A statement hiding a question that adults say to lead one directly into giving away more than they intend. He does not mind it - his smile widens.

She points one finger at him. The color of her nails match her dress, which Enver finds a bit tacky. “I can see why my master might like you.”

FIC COMMENTARY TIME

Absolutely losing my mind because god, this was one of my favorite parts to write in NINE BALL and one of the scenes I worried about for a multitude of reasons. One, plausibility, two, I worried about all the details that I kept adding in, and three, I kept asking myself if it was truly necessary.

My primary concern was could a small child, even a genius one, be able to build something like that? With what materials? With what time? Then I decided that this is a fantasy setting, and ultimately Ilios is emblematic of Enver’s best traits - his tenacity, his ability to outsource, his ingenuity, and his capacity for the pursuit of perfection. The dog isn’t just a dog, it’s a direct product of his life Baldur’s Gate and the wider life of his extended family.

Also, it was incredibly fun to come up with the potential things he would need to collect to even build the thing in the first place, and how he would go about figuring out how to make it in the first place. Trading with other kids, stealing scrap equipment from the blacksmith, string from the butcher, even using some of the material his parents use for shoe making, despite the risk. I imagine a visit to the High House of Wonders put the general idea in his head. Many more visits and his own good, but imperfect memory lead to the creation of the dog’s internal working.

Korilla I think, is one of the rare few to ever praise Enver on his work, so he eats it up with some, but not much, hesitation.

Moving on a little, but I intend to write more on Enver’s family throughout the fic because to me, the before of his life and the people in it are just as, if not more important, than the House of Hope itself. These people, the good and bad things he’s experienced, they’re deeply important to who he becomes as a person. They help him survive through the awful behavior he’s witnessed and through the common sense and ingenuity they’ve impressed upon him. Raphael expects nothing from a trade family, doesn’t suspect that these insane people could ever be smarter or more clever or more able than him, he thinks Enver is a blank slate for him to paint and not a person, which is his downfall.

I really, really wanted it to feel like he had a whole life with a bunch of people who know him and who miss him. His uncle runs a kennel in Rivington and he spends enough time with him to get to play with and then obsess over his dogs. He desperately wants one of his own, because much like with many a lonely, misunderstood child, dogs don’t judge, they are always happy to see him and he can never do something bad that will get him into trouble around them. Can’t have dogs in the Gate. So, improvise.

Three, it was a pet and not a darling so I kept it :)

Also, in the judgmental way of eight year olds, he can’t stand Korilla being so matchy-matchy. My statement.

#bg3 #dvd commentary meme #fire walk with me #enver gortash