#“my dog ran into the road for a toy”

[crustyfloor]

he played kickball with Till's flowers

og image btw

[vivwritescrappythings]

roadburn

simon “ghost” riley x gn!reader

@cielosafeplace wrote an idea on here about what Simon would do if you crashed on his motorcycle and that was enough to get me out of my writing slump. Truly doing the lord’s work.

cw: motorcycle accident, blood, mild gore, protective Simon, POV switch, gn! reader, no use of y/n, not very good.

word count: 1.8k

masterlist

—

Everything was ringing.

You didn’t really understand what was going on—one moment you were riding behind Simon on his motorcycle, and now you were sitting up on the traffic median. It was blurry around you, movement and cars and people looking like blocks of color in an abstract painting.

The breeze tousled your hair, crisp and clean in your nose. Your hair? You didn’t remember taking off your helmet. Shaking fingers made their way up to your head, passing through where the helmet would be to simply comb through hair. You pulled your fingers away, the swimming image of your hand in front of you showing the tips of your gloved fingers shining crimson. You didn’t quite notice that your gloves were shredded to bits, part of your palms visible and raw beneath.

It was enough to send a shock through you, your breath coming out so harshly that you actually let out a sound. It was swallowed by the rest of the noise going on around you, shouting and honking and cars driving by. The commotion surrounding you was far too loud, the quality of it like you were swimming underwater.

You stood on shaky legs, grabbing onto a street sign to pull yourself to standing as you fought vertigo. Everything was moving so slowly. You felt like you had to get to your feet, get off the traffic median.

Your vision was clearing. You could see a few people running around and chattering, their frantic gestures seeming all too slow to make sense. Your helmet was in the road, the buckle flapping open from where you must have ripped it off, there was a flat spot from where your head dragged across the rough pavement.

Simon’s motorcycle was on the curb, on its side and banged up in a few areas—he’d be cross to have to fix it.

Simon.

Where was he?

It wasn’t like Simon to not be glued to your side. Sometimes you joked that he was more guard dog than boyfriend, snarling and snapping his jaws at anyone that got too close for comfort. The fact that he wasn’t next to you right now made your blood run cold.

You rubbed your eyes on the back of your hand, blinking.

You heard him before you saw him. You’d never heard Simon scream like that, your name—your real name, not calling you “pet” like he normally did—ringing through the air like a thunderclap.

—

He couldn’t believe it. That fucking sod ran a red light, completely blew through it, and hit the bike hard enough to make him lose control.

He heard you scream, the sound of it muffled by the helmet covering your head. Simon’s heart was in his throat, hardly recognizing the pain as the bike dragged him across the road, his thigh trapped beneath the vehicle as his pants got shredded down to the skin. His jacket was destroyed, the leather hot where it scraped across the asphalt.

The driver was getting out of his truck, shouting his useless apologies as other good samaritans stopped to see what was going on.

It didn’t matter, none of it mattered as Simon shoved his bike off his leg like it was a toy and heard it crumple as he stood. The blood soaking into his pants was nothing—child’s play compared to the torture he’d experienced at work. Getting hung on a meat hook really makes any other form of pain look like a paper cut.

It was like he had tunnel vision, the panic of not being able to immediately spot you making him think the worst. You were a little thing compared to him, far too fragile for his comfort.

The people who had gotten out of their cars surrounded him in a swarm of too-loud voices and concerned gazes, trying to get him to sit down and wait for the ambulance. The driver got in his face, apologizing and claiming he didn’t see the two of you on the motorcycle. If Simon wasn’t busy worrying about you, he probably would’ve battered the idiot on the spot.

He simply brushed him aside, shouting your name in a bid of desperation. Despite all the near-death situations he’d lived through, the terror he felt at the pit of his stomach was more intense than anything he had ever experienced before.

The image of your mangled body on the asphalt filled his mind, imagination running wild. What if you’d been run over? Broke your damn neck?

His world was already falling apart as he took a few staggering steps.

Then he spotted you, all the way on the median and clutching a sign as you leaned against the metal pole. Your helmet was sitting on the ground nearby, cracked and part of the shell entirely scraped off. You must have taken it off in your shock.

Blood was running down your face, matting in your hair and following the contours of your features. Simon was running before he could think, mowing down any person that stupidly stood between the two of you. There was a sting of pain shooting up his leg with each step, but he hardly noticed.

You looked so dazed, your normally sharp gaze floating as you heard him shout your name. Fear and relief surged through Simon at once—you were bleeding, but you were standing and around and undeniably alive.

He wasn’t thinking enough to remember to be careful about crossing the last open lane of traffic, almost getting plowed through by a truck. A shout was barked at the driver as a big hand smacked the hood, Simon continuing his beeline to you. It was instinct at this point, like blinders had been fitted over his eyes to only see you.

His helmet skittered across the road where he threw it off, needing to see your face without the tint of the visor. Everything got exponentially louder without his helmet.

The tension was clear in your stance, shock making your spine ramrod straight and your hands clench at your sides. He approached carefully, tilting his head a little so he was closer to your height and his gloved hands outstretched. The spark of recognition in your gaze comforted him further, starting to placate the gnawing anxiety in his stomach.

Neither of you said anything as Simon gathered you up in his arms and held you close to his chest, a big hand cupping the back of your head. Your hands twisted in his shirt beneath the jacket, pulling him toward you as a shudder ran through you. He pressed his nose to the crown of your head and inhaled deeply.

He could care less about the chaos going on behind him, the sirens of an ambulance in the distance as insignificant to him as chirping birds.

Fingertips gently pressed into the side of your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. The blood was smeared across part of your face, but it looked like the bleeding was starting to slow. Your eyes were wide and a touch vacant as you looked up at him.

“You with me, pet?” Simon asked, his head crowding in close to yours as he tried to block out the rest of the world. He held his breath while waiting for your answer.

You nodded—albeit shakily as you looked him over. “Si, your leg.” Your voice was soft and wavering as you spoke. He watched your brows furrow with concern, lips parting.

“S’okay, don’t worry about me,” he said immediately, nudging your chin to look back up at his face. He didn’t even bother to look down at his leg. It didn’t hurt, the adrenaline fueling him enough to not feel it quite yet.

His thumbs smoothed over your face, his careful gaze focusing on the cut hidden in your hair as he took every detail of you in. Your jeans were ripped along your knees and up your thigh, your shirt a bit askew, your gloves torn. You had some road burn, some scrapes, hit your head pretty damn good, but you were standing and talking to him.

He could cry. Simon choked as he pulled you back into his chest, not wanting you to see how wet his dark eyes became. Fuck. There was a moment there that he thought he’d gotten you killed. The best thing in his sorry excuse for a life, dead in the road because he couldn’t protect you.

But you were here, you were in his arms and you were breathing. The panic receded, he took deep breaths as he looked up at the gloomy sky to try and get his head back on his shoulders.

The siren of the ambulance made his splitting headache worse, police cars following and the lights flashing in his eyes. It was only when they were parked near his destroyed motorcycle that he moved, keeping you clutched in the cage of his arms as he limped back across the street toward them.

The driver that hit you had the audacity to approach again, citing apologies and claims that he didn’t even see the motorcycle. Simon shoved him away, snarling like an animal. “Get the fuck away from us,” he hissed, voice low. “Got half the mind to kill you where you stand.”

You grabbed Simon’s wrist, grip soft. “Stop, Si,” you murmured, dragging him with you to the ambulance. There were already some people talking to the police that showed up, telling them what happened.

Simon made them tend to you first, worried you were concussed or had internal injuries. He fussed over you, staying close to you as the EMT shined a flashlight in your eyes and asked you soft-spoken questions. Price was already on his way to come grab the two of you, the fossil of a flip phone in his pocket still working unlike your smashed device.

He didn’t even know that there was a part of the meat of his calf that got burned and torn up from the bike landing on top of him until one of the medics started to force him onto a stretcher. He’d need stitches, something he could do himself if the ridiculous EMTs weren’t trying to corral him like a wild horse.

He would’ve fought it if you didn’t make him lay down, only soothed by the fact that Price showed up. You weren’t injured badly, thankfully, just some roadburn and a cut on your head that bled worse than it needed to.

Simon finally relaxed onto the stretcher after you kissed his scarred cheek, promising him that you were okay and you’d see him at the hospital. The adrenaline rushed out of him as soon as he was loaded up into the back, his dark eyes fluttering shut as he let out a soft groan.

He couldn’t believe he’d have to rebuild that fucking bike now.

[waywardluvr]

donald and daisy // jd & tz

pairings: jamie drysdale x reader , trevor zegras x reader (platonic)

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none

a/n 2: i wrote this in an hour so pls excuse and grammar or spelling mistakes :)

Technically you did tell them. You did tell them that last weekend you saw a sweet but scared dog on the side of the road and had to stop and help him before he got hit. You also did tell them that you took him to a shelter to see if he was okay and had a chip, he didn’t. But what you might not have told them was that you had spent that week going and checking to see if the dog had been claimed. You also didn’t tell them that you had also spent that week bonding with him and that you personally named him Donald. ‘Never name them,’ is what everyone says ‘you’ll get attached,’ and boy was that true. 

Now here you were inside a pet store with Donald on a leash trailing behind you picking up everything he needed, and way more. You bent down to Donald’s level at the toy section. 

“You can pick whatever toy you want,” you smiled as you scratched behind his ear. Donald turned and began to sniff every toy. He walked down the aisle and then stopped, his tail began to wag intensely. “Which one?” You asked. You watched in disbelief as he nudged a duck toy. You picked it up and laughed as his eyes followed, never taking his eyes off of the duck. You didn’t even care when the cashier said the total at checkout. He deserved all of it and more. 

On the way home, that you shared with Trevor and Jamie, Donald had his head out the window and you fell in love even more. As you pulled into the driveway you were filled with nerves and excitement.

“Welcome home Donald,” you beamed. You took him inside and let him sniff around and get used to his new surroundings before going to get everything from the car. The boys were at practice so you had plenty of time to get everything set up. Donald followed you the entire time. When you were done you looked down at him. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready to meet your dad and uncle Trevor.” 

You never really checked Jamie’s location, you completely trusted him and sharing it was more of a safety thing, but today was different. Your eyes never left the little picture of him on find my friends. You needed to know where he was so you could prepare yourself. 

He saw he was turning down the street. You quickly got up and led Donald to your room and asked him to lay down. He did. You smiled before running out, leaving the door open just enough. 

You made it back to the living room just in time. You heard Trevor laughing at one of his own jokes as they came into view. 

“Hey guys!” You said, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. The boys looked at each other before looking back at you.

“Hi,” Trevor drew out as he dropped his bag. “You’re never this excited to see me,” he said suspiciously.

“Baby, what did you do?” Jamie sighed as he dropped his own bag.

“What?! What makes you think I did something? Why would you think I did something? That’s hurtful.” You put your hand on your chest acting like you were hurt by their assumptions. They both just looked at you with raised eyebrows. “Alright, fine! Do y’all remember when I told you I saved that dog last week?” You said. They both slowly nodded. “Well what I didn’t tell you is that I’ve been going and checking on him everyday since then and you know just like hanging out with him.” 

“Oh was he claimed?!” Trevor asked hopefully. 

“No and the mandatory waiting period for him to be claimed ended today.” You nervously played with your fingers.

“Okay and?” Trevor asked, now confused. You could see that Jamie however was putting the pieces together. 

“Baby, are you about to say what I think you’re about to say?” Jamie asked. You smiled nervously. 

“Donald!” You said loudly. Suddenly the sound of paws padding against the floor was heard.

“You didn’t,” the boys said in unison.

Donald ran in and instantly ran to the boys. Body swaying side to side in excitement. Trevor bent down and Donald started to lick his face. Jamie on the other hand just looked down in shock. 

“Surprise,” you said nervously. Trevor and Jamie looked up at you.

“This is literally the best thing I’ve ever come home from practice to!” Trevor continued petting Donald. Jamie’s eyes were wide with shock.

“Jamie please say something,” you asked, you were scared he was mad. Jamie looked back down and finally he smiled. He bent down and Donald turned to him. You let out a big breath. You watched as both of them played with Donald. “Jamie I love you but please never scare me like that again. I thought you were furious,” you said as you sat down with everyone. 

“I was just shocked. I’m sorry,” he looked at you with sympathetic eyes. You just smiled. 

“So why is his name Donald?” Trevor asked. You looked at him in disbelief. 

“Please tell me you’re joking,” you laughed.

“I was gonna ask the same thing,” Jamie said. You couldn’t believe 

“Your team was literally owned by Disney and neither of you get the reference?!” They both looked at each other and shrugged. “I can’t believe this,” you whispered in disbelief. “Guys, ‘Donald Duck’, from Mickey Mouse! You know, the one in a relationship with ‘Daisy Duck’?! The name of the team dog!” You finished. They were both quiet for a moment, a moment too long in your opinion, before they both connected the dots. 

“Listen it’s been a long day,” Jamie sighed.

“And I took a puck to the helmet earlier,” Trevor defended himself. You scoffed before gasping, scaring the boys and Donald. 

“I’ll be right back!” You said excitedly. You ran to your room and picked up the toy Donald had chosen. You ran back while holding it behind your back. “So I took him to the pet store and let him pick out any toy he wanted and you’ll never believe what he picked!” You finally showed the boys the toy and both their jaws dropped when they saw the duck. 

“There’s no fucking way!” Trevor said in disbelief. Wanting to know why he wasn’t getting attention anymore Donald turned towards you and when he saw what you had in your hand he ran up to you in excitement, jumping to get the toy.

You laughed as Jamie and Trevor’s jaws dropped once again.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 12 - Emotional Damage

You make an observation.

On AO3.

Y’all walk. Everything is dim and gloom. Things move outta the corner of your eye and whispers skirt along the edges of your hearing.

Shadowheart seems to still be immune. Her eyes is fever bright.

The fuck does it mean to be in a cult in a place with literal, physical gods.

Fuck.

After an hour or two, Astarion comes drifting back down the line. Dread curls tight in you.

But y’all’re dating. Right? That means communicating. That’s what everybody says. That’s what most of your therapists talked (at) to you about. You just ain’t, like, listened very well.

You take a breath. This is about more than just you. This is about someone other than you, too. So you turn to him. “Good mor—”

“I wanted—” Astarion says at the same time.

The both of you shut up. Then do a little verbal dance, like trying to out polite somebody through the door in front of you.

You win.

“I wanted to apologize,” Astarion says first. There’s a hint of his usual lilting smarm, but it’s too clipped around the edges to be entirely smooth. “For last night. I’m usually, ah, better up to the challenge.”

Oh. When he, well. But you read that plenty of guys do that. Girls, too (you came on his hand in maybe a couple minutes last night, which might be a personal record). You were both going at it, so you don’t really see any reason for him to be so stiff about it. But he’s striding around like some Victorian butler, back yardstick straight, chin perfectly level to the ground (you read British royals train themselves to walk like that).

This man is usually all twirling hands and shoulder shimmies.

You debate it. Decide to take your chances. Lift your hand and flick the shoulder of his armor.

“It’s all good,” you say, when he glances (sharply) to you. “I liked. Um. Being with you.”

“How encouraging,” he says.

The rest of the group is mostly in front of y’all, with Karlach taking up the rear. You hope like hell they mind their own damn business, since half of them got pointy ears and you assume that means they all got super hearing. Fucking close ass quarters.

“How’re you doing?” you say. It’s usually the next step in small talk.

Astarion smiles. There’s something off about it. It’s a little too…perfect. Composed, even.

Fake.

“I’m quite well, all things considered. Rather eager to show you a full sampling of my portfolio, once we get the chance.”

Is he just nervous? Ashamed, maybe? There’s a whole parody song about coming in your pants. He might be worried he, what, disappointed you?

(It did the opposite. It…kinda went to your head in the moment, before he ran off. What an interesting thing to learn about yourself, his soft grunts filling your memory as he clutched at you and the glimpse of his face drawn tight—).

You shake your head. You’re having a conversation, goddamnit, not daydreaming about how he sounds mid-orgasm.

Although you could hear it again. Tonight, even, he seems to be offering. Twenty-five years, give or take, since puberty and you didn’t care much about all that. Felt horny, sometimes, but not really connected to any person (you did have your collection of toys, though, cause you’re a curious kind). Now this man got to you and woke up something in you and your body perks up at the slightest hint of him like a starved dog.

Still.

There’s a weird remoteness to him. And you don’t wanna push things too fast. Right?

“I’m getting kinda rusty on the Chondathan, actually,” you say.

“What?” Comes out flatter than fucking Kansas. The man nearly stops dead.

Ah fuck, you fucked it. Ryan fucking Meadows ghosted you for being frigid and weird and you’re difficult and isolated and, and…

“Chondathan? That you was teaching me?” Because by god, this was the road you turned down and you can’t pull a u-turn now. You just gotta plow further on. “We haven’t used that. Since the Underdark. And I think I’m forgetting it. But it was fun. And seemed important?”

The way he rolled the r’s back at you. The way the words twisted in his smooth voice. The only thing human (kinda) down there. The only other living (mostly) thing that spoke. The tether that meant you wasn’t alone.

“I,” Astarion says. Blinks. Then that weird smile slips back on. “If you like. I do have a few books we’ve picked up along the way.”

And you cannot, can not stop the high sound you make. A month or more. Fucking weeks of sitting around at night, waiting to fall asleep. Sore. Aching. Too tired. Fucking bored.

“Holy fuck, I miss books so bad. Brainworms and monsters and murder and all that shit, I could deal with so much better if I could fucking read.”

Astarion’s lips purse, and he taps his chin with one finger. “Yes, you did mention a ridiculous public library.”

Gale makes a sudden movement ahead.

You kinda doubt he’s got any kids books, though. Nothing you could sound out, let alone comprehend on the little you’ve grasped so far (yet).

“What’re your books about?” You hope to hell they ain’t all religious texts or old essays collections of Old Man Philosopher Yells at Clouds. Historically on Earth, those were the only things valuable enough for people to want to preserve, all copying by hand. Unless they got printing presses here. In which case, could they have novels?

Astarion leans in close (it’s goddamn ridiculous how distracting he smells) and says, “I honestly haven’t a clue. I snatch them up to sort out later.”

Practical, if heavy. Well, maybe not for the average person. Who didn’t grow up in a fuck ass cult out in the sticks that treated anything not the Bible or the printed pamphlets of the Pastor as contraband (you’d been so nervous the first time you ever stepped into the city library) (the lord was gonna strike you dead) (the devil was gonna enter your soul and possess you) (holy shit there was so many and you wanted all of them).

“We can do a book haul,” you say. Which you then have to explain, and this time Gale just stops to let y’all catch up so he can listen in, not even bothering to hide it).

The road curves down and ends in a fuck off giant of a dead tree, fallen on its side over a crevasse. What looks a lot like wagon ruts carve up along that dead trunk.

You’re careful to follow in the exact footsteps of Wyll out front, and absolutely not look anywhere but your next step and the bank beyond. And not visualize your foot slipping, ankle folding, the tumble into the long dark below.

“Would you,” you start, mostly so you can distract yourself. Only to realize how presumptuous you’re being. But Astarion lifts an eyebrow, cause you started a question and need to finish it. “I mean. I don’t wanna be rude. Or demanding or nothing. But um. Would you mind? Reading to me? You can say no.”

“Doing alright back there?” Wyll says, once y’all are across.

You lift a thumb. Which you also then have to explain. Some gestures are the same here, but that one ain’t. Weird.

Astarion watches you, head cocked. Something strains around his eyes. Disappears the second you return your attention to him.

“Of course, my dear. It just seems a waste when we could be enjoying our time with other means.”

His hand in your pants. Maybe even your hand in his pants.

Your body flushes hot and tingling. Greedy. But also, y’know, fucking books.

Gale makes an odd sound and falls back further to join Karlach. You can feel her grin on the back of your head.

“I. I do, um. Like that,” you say. A lot. You’d probably ruin your panties here in a minute or two as your body starts to holler about it. “But, I dunno. That’d get boring if that’s all we do, huh?”

Astarion’s face changes. Or the angle does, or the torchlight hits it odd and you been spending too much time staring at him. Like repeating a word too many times, until it don’t sound real. A twitch, a flicker of something, and he looks like a different person.

His eyes. They’re…round. Ain’t never seen them that young. It makes him look…younger. Softer, maybe. Only for a second. Just enough to clock it. Then he twists himself back to smarm. Lifts a hand and presses it to his chest all offended southern belle, and gives a tiny gasp.

“Boring? Oh darling, have I left you so unsatisfied? Perish the thought. Only, you sounded quite pleased when I joined you last night.”

Said loud enough for everybody to hear. Do not glance back, Shadowheart. Don’t she fucking dare. She fucking offered you birth control, she knows what y’all’re about.

“Oh, what an interesting stone formation over there,” Gale says behind y’all.

You want to swat Astarion’s arm. You want to swat him so bad.

And the reply comes to you. Perfect. Sharp. A glance to his crotch and a crook of your eyebrow and you could say “really” all flat and he would know exactly what you was talking about.

But he ran off last night. Fucking apologized to you about it, and this seems…this is covering. All of it. It washes over you all cold and syrupy. His approach, what he’s said, his offer. He’s…worried. What, that you don’t like him no more? That you don’t want him no more?

That perfection in your mind would hurt him. Maybe more than you even know. You can see that clear as day, and the thought makes your heart ache (jesus fuck, you’re in so fucking deep).

You ain’t gonna do that to him. And fuck everybody else being nosy or judgy to you. You gagged down enough shame on the farmstead for years. You ain’t gonna choke down one drop more. Especially not here. Like this.

You lift your chin. Meet his gaze. “My people got a saying about too much of a good thing turning it sour. If all y’all eat is chocolate, you get sick. So yeah, I did like it. And if you don’t mind, darlin, I’d like you to read to me tonight. You, you got a nice voice.”

Probably didn’t need the last part, judging from Karlach’s tiny squeal and Shadowheart’s face pinching so hard you can see it in fucking profile. But it happened, and it seems to have whammied your target. Man actually takes a step back before he catches himself. And there’s them wide eyes again. Like…like you. In them early days. When Sasha or one of the group home neighbors baked some cookies and brought them to you, and you wasn’t used to getting anything but basic rations and a new dress when yours got too roughed up to patch, because asking for more was a sin. Decadence opens the door to the devil.

To this man, one compliment is a whole tray of cookies. A gift he wasn’t expecting. Something that didn’t even occur to him.

Your heart hurts again.

“I, of course,” he says, all quiet.

Up ahead, Wyll calls out. “I see light ahead!”

[strawberryblue-blog]

It's about fate —Jude Bellingham

Summary: destiny brings you together with Jude (with a furry helping hand).

Warning: none. Soft/cute.

Words: 2.5k+

#SEXYNOTE: English is not my first language.

The wind blew through your limbs as you walked through the park full of people around you.

Today was a nice winter day and thanks to the bright sunshine this morning, together with Boo, your dog, you had decided to go for a walk. The children were running and playing with each other, their parents were chatting and watching them, it was a great day you thought as you petted your dog animatedly. Boo admired the children and you knew he loved playing with them.

"Do you want to run, little guy?" you asked stroking his ears, Boo seemed to understand you and started wagging his tail in approval.

You removed the latch from his leash and when you indicated he could run, the canine began to walk away from you happily running between people. You smiled as you sat back down on the empty bench watching the children play with him, petting him and tugging at him with their toys.

You took the opportunity to grab your cell phone, checking notifications and answering some of them while enjoying the warmth of the morning sun.

When you finished you looked back at the children, but you were surprised not to see your dog among them. You turned your head a little, thinking maybe he was running, but he wasn't there either. You got up from your spot walking quickly into the crowd looking for Boo.

"Boo!" you yelled calling out to him. Your feet were heading mindlessly towards the other side of the park. "Boo!" you yelled again in desperation.

A tap on your foot made you turn quickly, seeing your dog's toy bone, you tried to grab it but a white dog jumped towards you starting to lick your face happily.

"Hello... beautiful Lola" you greeted petting her as you read her collar. "Have you seen Boo?" you asked showing her the toy. The dog started wagging her tail, wagging her ears as you heard footsteps behind you.

"Looks like we found your owner, Boo" you heard said, you quickly rejoined turning around.

Your eyes darted to the person speaking and you jumped up to hug your dog when he ran up to you. Your heart was beating steadily again and joy flooded your chest.

"We were looking for you," he smiled.

You quickly raised your head to him, smiling at him in appreciation. The young man looked at you smiling and he was so handsome that your cheeks turned reddish.

"Thank you so much for taking care of him" you thanked sincerely, hiding your nervousness at his cute smile. The young man nodded, smiling at you again.

It was probably one of the most beautiful smiles you had ever seen. His face had particular proportions and that made him so handsome. Suddenly you felt like a teenager in front of his crush and you didn't even know him. But you weren't going to lie, you felt anxious to know everything about him.

"I'm Jude" he stretched out his hand. Without waiting, you held it intertwining them. A small shiver ran down your back as their fingers touched and Jude, seemed to notice it too, smiling a little shyly.

"T/n" you said at his trapping look.

You were both surprised with barking while still holding hands, your dogs were playing so happily, they began to bark playfully at each other. Your smile was greatly marked when you saw the little dog lick your dog, inviting him to follow her and starting to run across the lawn playing with each other, leaving the two of you alone in the middle of the road.

"Do you want to sit for a while?" he asked scratching the back of his neck a little, as if he was nervous. "I mean... looks like we'll be around for a while longer" he gestured with his hand.

You turned your gaze to where he pointed and saw their dogs playing, running and petting each other as if they were kindred spirits. You were happy to see your little baby with Lola. But you were even happier that you could meet the boy who had stolen your heart at first sight.

"Sure" you smiled. Jude walked over to one of the nearest benches and gave you the place to sit first.

He really was a gentleman.

"Do you live in the neighborhood?" he asked. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to..."

"Yes. two blocks back" you pointed out showing him.

You were both nervous but somehow it felt warm, no pressure.

Jude grimaced. "Near the flower shop?" he continued.

"That's right, in the building next door" you commented. Jude was surprised, his eyes widening.

"I live there too" he said laughing. "Twenty-fifth floor."

You lived in the same place and you had never seen your neighbor so handsome?

"Floor 13" you smiled, unable to believe it. "It's weird we never saw each other before" arranging a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Maybe fate had other plans for us" he pleaded looking at you.

Your stomach churned with happiness. His smile was so bright it made you smile. Barking could be heard closer to you but you were caught up in your love bubble that you didn't notice your dogs starting to approach. Jude couldn't stop looking at you and your heart skipped a beat every time he did.

Paws on your legs brought you back to reality, taking your dog who was jumping on you to be petted.

Fate? Fate had definitely played out for you. But so had your pets. If it wasn't for Boo you probably would never have met Jude, your neighbor, whom you had never seen before.

If this was fate's chance, you were going to take it.

"Would you like to walk home with me?" you dared to ask. Jude was petting Lola and smiled broadly as he listened to you.

"I'd love to." he said.

thank you very much for all the love 🩵

[roe-and-memory]

MACK HEADCANONS PLZZZ

OF COURSE!!

mack is seriously one of my favourite side characters. i literally adore him SO much

- i think mack has like. 5 sisters. and hes the oldest and only boy of all of the siblings. this is a hc roe and i have had for a while, he just has such oldest brother of the family vibes but also like hes so gentle as if he grew up with sisters. i can imagine him, 17, the second oldest being somewhere around 11 or 12, and theyve convinced him to bake cupcakes with him. hes got his mothers pink apron on, hes doing all the work, while his sisters are hanging off of him and playing with their toys all over the kitchen floor. he couldnt bake for shit, but anything for his baby sisters

- adding onto above, i dont think he did too much in school. his mother worked two jobs and his father was away a lot on business trips, so he very willingly and very happily took care of his younger sisters 24/7. and im not saying his parents were neglectful - not at all. i think his parents worked hard to take them on trips and keep them afloat. the did family trips as many times a year as they had the chance to and their parents made sure the kids knew they were loved.

- AMAZING driver. hes been driving since he was young, and he can maneuver his hauler better than most other drivers. both his parents contributed to teaching him how to drive, and they both gave him their separate tips and tricks, so he is quite literally the collective bunch of his parents driving habits all in one.

- he left to work for rusteze as a truck driver when he was around 22/23, when the second oldest sibling was old enough to hold down the fort. a lot of his extra cash went to his family back home, but he stayed on the road.

- not too interested in relationships, he’s always been kind of held down and its nothing against his family but now he likes the freedom of home being on the road

- his truck (1985 mack superliner) was his grandfathers cab. he bought it brand new and never used it much, trucking ran in his family (even his father was a trucker before he met macks mother and settled down), so his grandfather gave him the cab for free as a gift one year and he’s used it and kept it in tip-top shape ever since

- lightning is like that little brother he never had. he found the kid at a truck stop, a distressed fifteen year old looking to get out of town (he was running away from home) and saved him from getting his shit rocked by some pissed off old guy because he’d asked for two dollars for chips and the guy took a personal offence to it. mack literally felt sick at the idea that this kid was out this far from the city alone. lightning had WALKED from henderson to vegas to see the race, and then just decided he wasnt going home. mack was so heartbroken because the thought of one of his sisters ever being in the situation that this kid is in right now made his stomach churn. the kid had begged to go with him, and mack felt so guilty he said yes. he initially tried to take the kid somewhere safe, like a home for kids or something, but lightning was quite content to stay, and it felt like having a little brother around and it was Different (mack checked the news every day for any missing child reports and Nobody reported lightning missing. it literally destroyed mack emotionally because How do u not report ur own child missing when he leaves and doesnt return.)

- his truck has bunk beds since its a sleeper cab and he let lightning decorate his bunk with posters and those glow in the dark stars and literally anything the kid wanted he could plaster on the walls and mack did not care. this also included a bunch of stickers, because oh Lord that boy is obsessed with little stickers

- mack had no idea how to bond with lightning considering he himself had grown up being forced to play barbies with his little sisters (they would try to make him be evil ken but then they’d get mad because he was too nice. he got to play as the dollhouse dog instead) whereas lightning grew up with Nothing. lightning didnt really know how to interact with toys without feeling ridiculous because he’d been conditioned to believe toys were for Babies. mack eventually gave up trying to guess what lightning liked and just took him to a toys r us, where lightning Immediately found a stuffed dinosaur he liked and got like 2 hot wheels cars and then proceeded to profusely apologize for wasting macks money on such stupid stuff. mack did not give af, as long as his little brother was happy he was ok

- he gave lightning his first ever hug. before that not a Single person had ever hugged that child and mack was so sad to learn it because how do parents go 15 years without ever hugging ur own flesh and blood

- he taught lightning how to drive in a field with the truck during break days, and realized the kid’s potential and signed him up for late model stock races after a bit of talking. rusty and dusty also took an interest in racing at this point, and allowed mack to carry the kids late model stock car in the truck (they figured out a way for him to get both product and the car in the truck, and conveniently every delivery was for the city lightnings next race was in)

- hes kept all of lightnings late model stock trophies, the kid was a real good winner even back then and he’s even got photos that photographers had taken of the wins when little 15 year old lightning mcqueen was standing on the roof of his car holding his trophy above his head with the biggest smile in the world plastered on his face (those wins were like the proudest big brother moments ever until he got into the piston cup)

- hes a MASSIVE harv hater but hes too nice to say it. when doc starts expressing his own dislike for harv, mack starts talking to him about it and they bond over the fact they hate that man so fucking much that they end up managing to get him fired

- during the piston cup off season he goes back to delivering product for rusteze

- even though lightnings older now he still sees him as a younger brother

i think this is it.. THANK U FOR THE ASK!!! i love talking about mack :3

[sillygoblinantics]

Can I trauma dump for a second?

Personal essay by Bri

Can I be vulnerable with you all for a brief post? You don’t have to read what’s under here if you don’t want to hear about dark thoughts and events from my childhood. So take this as a content warning going forward, especially if you are not in a good state of mind I want you to ignore this post and check out my other light hearted stuff in the meantime. 🩵

In the past month spanning the duration of September, Lily Orchard has made several posts answering self asks where she makes various and progressively worse than the last threats on many people who she labels are stalkers.

Each of these posts were said throughout the month that is a very particular awareness month: suicide prevention month. The amount of ways she’s phrased it are just heartless and reckless.

Today, being no different than the others has struck a cord to me personally.

For context:

I was transferred to a school for kids with learning disabilities when I was 9 in the middle fourth grade. At this private school I would receive proper education and resources that would help me excel but in less than four years at this school I would be the target and victim to one boy’s torment and abuse. Let’s call him Pepsi, because he wouldn’t shut up about bragging about how his mom was ceo of the company’s local branch. Pepsi had been a troubled boy who had bullied kids before I arrived and because of his parents the school couldn’t do anything outside of suspension. I being prone to teasing and not understanding tone or jokes due to being born autistic was the perfect target for Pepsi. So he would harass and pick on me: tripping me in hallways, flipping me off, calling me names and messing with something I showed interest in, standard bullying stuff. During this time I was slowly driven into high stress/anxiety and shortly following I would have depression. I would hurt myself by scratching my arms with paperclips which my mom would eventually request the school have a teacher escort me to and from the bathroom just so I wouldn’t self harm. This was between 4th, 5th and 6th grade.

It was around here that I begun having suicidal ideation… I tried asphyxia: belt, infinity scarf and even a cats-in-the-cradle toy. These attempts were always at home and would be stopped by my parents… at one point my old dog came bursting in to check on me when I was crying my eyes out and wouldn’t leave my side until she made sure I was ok.

(I’m tearing up over that specific memory as I type this out… she was a very good dog…)

Seventh grade Pepsi would do something that began my ideations and planning that would go into effect the next grade. During a school dance, I decided to invite my brother and his two friends as I didn’t know any guys or really thought someone liked me. I tried to hangout with my brother on the bleachers in the gym. While sitting on the bleachers one of my peers approached and asked if I’d slow dance with them. No boy ever did this and I thought it was genuine I was so happy until at the other side of the gym, under the basket ball hoop against the wall, surrounded by other boys (who weren’t goons) I saw Pepsi, laughing. Laughing and pointing and I still remember the feeling I had as I could feel my lil heart shatter into pieces in my chest.

I ran to the bathrooms tears running down my face. My brother and his friends saw this and were about to beat Pepsi up but the school chaperones stopped them. I wish they didn’t.

From then to eighth grade I was barely myself and would sit in class staring out the windows down the long uphill half mile long driveway that cut through a small bit of woods and opened to the busy road. I’d watch all kinds of cars pass: big cars, small cars, pickup trucks, suvs, eighteen wheelers, buses and all sorts of vehicles pass by between the tree line. I’d watch and imagine myself being hit, thinking of the day I’d enact this plan.

I was excited for eighth grade, not only would I be graduating and headed for high school but it was the year our grade would get to perform one of two Shakespeare plays! The class before us did Romeo and Juliet and our class would get to perform the Scottish play. I was excited even if I was a narrator. My mom made it clear to the school and teachers to make sure that Pepsi and I were kept apart at all times. At. All. Times.

The one time during rehearsal, when me and Pepsi were in the same room, the one moment that a teacher stepped out for just a few minutes. Pepsi took the opportunity and berated me, said every nasty thing he could at me.

I can’t remember most but what I know is something about my weight and that no one would love me and that I should die.

I felt a switch go off and suddenly I was speed walking towards the door of the gym (the stage was in the gym since the art and music classes were connected to the gym) and as I was walking I could hear my teacher calling my name but I didn’t look back. Once I got out the door I ran, I ran so fast.

I ran down the hill, the sound of my shoes hitting the pavement echoed in my ears still and the only thing in my mind were: the plan but also the hope that I was still being chased by the teacher, I kept running and running and by the third Italian cypress tree that lead to the small forested area and up the driveway of the school I skidded to a halt. I caught my breath and with a glimmer of hope for a hand to grab me I looked behind me:

…

The teacher wasn’t there… they stopped chasing me. Why did they stop chasing me? Weren’t they suppose to care?! Why aren’t they here?! I looked back at the road now crying for a different reason. I flaked out… I couldn’t go through with the plan. ‘No one would care’ I thought… so I turned around and ran back up the hill and past the school buildings and near the back where I waited and cried for the day to be over or for someone to notice me. The advisor or some type of teacher; who would take his class on nature walks behind the school on the old trails where an amphitheater was; found me. I didn’t tell my mom at pick up. I told my first therapist about it and later was sent to a hospital and then five days at a literal hell where it only instilled fear of being vulnerable and honest about my mental health stayed. I had to stay out of school for a few months until I could graduate… I missed my chance to be a narrator for the play, I fumbled my science fair… I would forget about this day until I was a junior in high school with a new counselor and my mom. I only had dreams of running down the hill of my middle school and I never knew why until my mom told me and my counselor… those dreams stopped after the revelation.

I was twelve years old when I tried to kill myself via being hit by a car.

Lily orchard, you have no fucking right to act like the bigger person because you’re trans or native or whatever bullshit you spew.

It’s been two or three years since I’ve had any suicidal thought, a year since I’ve self harmed and I refuse to relapse now.

I don’t wish any horrible thing on you, no one does, no one has or will ever wish harm or ill will on you. And the people who do have something to say about you are validated after putting up with your abuse that has been documented on so many occasions.

I don’t wish what I have gone through on my middle school bully, I wouldn’t wish the worst thing ever on him. I wouldn’t wish the worst fate even on you.

The only thing I wish you get: is help. Actually human help.

And Lily, if I see you talk smack about anyone’s mother or father like this again, there’s nothing I can do in my power to act; because you’ve already done it to yourself.

———————————

Thank you to those who aren’t Lily orchard for reading this, it’s a heavy subject for me that as I share and open up about becomes much lighter and helps me get the strength and confidence to be able to be honest with the people I care most about outside of the internet.

While I can say I’m in a better place it’s always changing but it’s gotten easier to manage and recenter myself.

Stay safe everyone (ówò)

[riverbankofclay]

Sorry this isn't my usually content but I just need to get this out. Firstly I have five cats. They're outdoor cats. I don't want them to be outdoor cats but I can't do anything about it.

Explanation undercut

I'm a minor and the cats are technically owned by my parents. Two of our cats were rescued ad kittens and we adopted them. They were indoor for the first year cause we had three other outdoor cats at that time. One got hit but a cat, other got a leg infected and last one ran away but they were move outdoors after that. Slowly at first like in a kennel at day and back in at night but they were eventually fully outdoors though I'm allowed to bring them in and I do whenever I can

But out last three. Two of them were born to the third who was a stray. We adopted all of them. They had a third sibling, but they ran away, went to the neighbours and moved to England with the neighbours (I miss you little fella, you did a great job.) (Postiive not sarcastic because I know it's used like that sometimes)

They have always been outdoors unless they were recovering from surgery. Now I'm worried I missed a window to get them used to the indoors. They're all scared of it, everything single fucking sound. Hell ones even scared of cat toys. One went missing for like a month before he came back

What I'm worried about is that we're getting another cat next month and I'm freaking out that he'll be moved outdoors too. I've gotten him a harness, collar and stuff so he'll be less likely to be snatched but I'm fucking scared. I don't want him to be taken away. Cats aren't often taken where I live. Most people with cats around my area have them outdoors and know who belongs to who and my other cats have places to hide of they see a car coming. Everyone knows cats are on the road because most people that drive around this road know the area because it isn't a main road, and my cats never go beyond the statue like three metres from out house but I cant help but worry.

I don't want to excuse it but I honestly don't know. We live in a place with no coyotes,wolves ect and barely any foxes but they mostly just pass through and any thing that could hurt them isn't really legally allowed to be outdoors unsupervised.

Sorry for the ramble I just need this

I know people also leave their dogs in their garden with the gates open (is that a cultural thing? I don't see it anywhere) and on the roads. People don't seem to care and leave them to their own devices but idk

And my parents excuse is that they shed?? Like wtf it's a fucking cat. My older sister has asthma? Why the fuck did you get cats then if it's going to affect her asthma? They scratch furniture? Get them a fuckong scratcher

[thebutchersdog]

When this dog wants something aggressively, nothing else exists

I was playing 2 toy with him (throw a toy, present a second toy on the run back, usually a bite pillow) and he wanted the pillow so badly he ran directly into my knees

Didn’t slow down, didn’t try to turn

Today I was training in a baseball diamond with him and he was reacting to some kids on a trampoline across the road. He ran straight into the chainlink

I saw his head bend back, neck and chest hit the fence, spit went flying

Absolutely unreal

[meowuff]

I had the urge to get my thoughts a bit organized about him and all so this is a try to somehow get any kind of structure down and written.

Soooo I have not ever spend a lot of thought into any kind of background story so all I can provide is some loose shit I improvise right this moment from my gut feeling!

•⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •

Oron had been a little black breasted leaf turtle, kept as a pet from some random New Yorker, until an Oozquito found it's way into the appartment. The result was a very curious and mobile mutant turtle, finding it's way out of the appartment and into the street of the city.

Due to his curious nature, and missing sense of danger, he crawled his way thru the alleys and roads, miraculously without hurting himself or being spotted.

Until one day, while rummaging thru some interesting looking trash, which had been glowing so delightfully, made him fall down into the depth of the hidden city~

There, not far away from the big pile of human junk, had been Mika, looking for some goods to sell, and heard the chirps and thrills of the little turtle.

Not knowing what else to do, now that he actually found the abandoned child, he decided to keep it, not having the heart to just turn around and leave.

Quite fast, the outgoing nature and curiosity of the little guy proved to be very challenging, especially if you try to keep your own profile as low as possible. Not aiding to that situation had been the, for Mika incomprehensible, fascination of Oron for insects.

He's loosing Oron multiple times on a daily basis due to him running after some bug he saw scurrying around a corner. The strong stubbornness of the little turtle prevented any kind of conditioning or reasoning, to just let the disgusting bugs be, so Mika just had to accept that feature of his small companion at one point.

The only incedent actually teaching Oron a lesson had been, when he ran into the dog of a bounty hunter after following a pretty looking butterfly, and almost got used as a chew toy as consequence. Mika fortunately had been there in time, before any big physical damage had been done.

Another obstacle, is the fact that the little guy relentlessly refuses to learn any kind of speaking. The only words he ever uses, are Mikas and his own name, but no other words have left his lips so far. It took Mika a good chunk of time to fully get back into the chirping and churring knowledge, but by now he is able to fully understand every sound Oron makes.

A quite helpful quirk of Oron is that he is naturally able to handle cold temperatures quite well and doesn't need as much warmth as Mika to prevent himself from hibernating, leaving the warmer blankets to the often freezing one while sleeping in the alleys of the hidden city.

Very late, after meeting the 4 Hamato brothers, Mika actually got the information from Donnie that Oron is, biologically speaking, a female turtle. Mika didn't knew how to tell the difference, just taking a 50/50 guess, and Oron himself didn't knew the concept of female and male. It also doesn't really bother Oron either being called she or he, but he got used to the pronouns he/him, which Mika uses for him, so he feels most familiar with those.

•⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •⁠ •

ALRIGHTY

That's all my thoughts so far.

I def wanna do smth like that again for Mika, but I think that's gonna take a little while ~

I hope ANY of that make sense and WOW you actually are still reading this?!

.....

Here, take a cookie as treat 🍪 ...

[jkl-fff]

Halloween might be over, BUT THE SPOOKY LIVES ON!

Can you tell us a scary story?✨ (preferably something that happened to you, but if you want to switch it to a friend, or something made up, FEEL FREE TO DO SO!:D)

Once, while I was living in Grenoble, France, a colleague and I were looking for a new area to go door-to-door (yes, I was one of those for a while). So we opened a map (this was in, like, 2006 or 2007) and blindly pointed to an area on it, as was often our habit.

Now, according to the map, there was nothing unusual about the spot we happened to choose. It looked to be a subdivision out in the suburbs, like countless others we'd been to. Basically a developed part of a small village that had been enveloped into the congolmerated city by urban sprawl. Nothing special--not according to the map.

We headed that way after lunch, taking the tram out as far as the line went, then riding a city bus almost to the end of its line. It was almost 2:30 in the afternoon by the time we disembarked, yet we still had to walk a distance after that. Down narrow, winding roads, on a bridge over traintracks, and along these paved walkways that ran between hedges and chainlink fences. Constantly consulting the map, the streets and paths were so confusing.

There was this small park ahead of the entrance to the subdivision, and that was where the first unsettling occurence happened.

Scrawled on a lamp post in French with a permanent marker, too high up even for me to write it comfortably (and I'm rather tall), was the message "Stop right there". My colleague and I, naturally, found that a bit strange. But we'd seen far more explicitly menacing graffiti, so we didn't pay it much mind. Just kept walking ...

and the world noticably fell still and silent once we passed it.

I cannot emphasize this enough. The wind suddenly died--we couldn't even feel the slightest breeze, let alone hear the rustle of tree branches or dead leaves. There was suddenly no birdsong, no sound of barking dogs, no distant noises of traffic.

We remarked how spooky it was. But we were young men and, naturally, thought ourselves impervious to harm. So we marched right through the park and into the subdivision itself.

And that was where the second unsettling occurence happened. The place was utterly deserted.

Not empty or uninhabited, because there were clear signs every house and condo in this subdivision was occupied. Cars were in driveways and parked on the streets. Many of the residences had a kind of patio-balcony enclosed by glass walls and ceilings that people seemed to treat like just another room of their house. Meaning we could literally see into their homes--kids toys strewn about, clothes draped over furniture, dishes on the table or in the sink, all the bric-a-brac of people living comfortably in their own spaces. But not a single soul was present.

As if everybody had just disappeared 5 minutes before we got there.

And always that same stillness and silence hung over eveything. No windchimes, no pedestrians or cyclists on the sidewalks, no cats slinking about, no airplanes flying overhead, no gardening or yardwork, no squirrels bounding across the street, no distant train whistles, no drivers passing by, no birds flitting in search of food. Nothing.

We knocked on dozens of doors. Must've spent over an hour there, at least. But there was never an answer. None of the bells worked, either, not as far as we could hear--no muffled ringing or buzzing through the doors. Even factoring in the time of day, you would've expected there to be *someone* home. Heck, kids should've been returning from school. But there was never a single person that we saw.

Eventually, we gave up on that spooky-ass location. We left, heading back towards Grenoble proper. But I swear, the instant we walked out that subdivision ... the wind started blowing again, and I saw a bird fly ahead of us.

[pretzelposts]

Fine Line | M.S

Warnings: Crying, comforting, mentions of a grave, death of a pet.

Genre: Fluff

⚠️ I don’t suggest reading this if you’re sensitive. I cried while writing this ! enjoy🩷

“Y/n” Matt whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sweetheart, wake up please.” Matt pleads softly. You huff in response, your eyes fluttering open.

“Whaaaat?” You ask. “I’ve got to talk to you baby.” Matt whispered, your heart dropping. “What? What happened?” Matt huffs. Once you finally focus your eyes, it looks like Matt’s been crying. “O-oh god, what happened?!” You ask urgently.

“B-Biscuit… me and Chris were walking earlier this morning because we couldn’t find Biscuit. We were going to feed her, but she wasn’t in our room. We went on that walk and went right down the road and..” Matt wiped his eyes. “B-biscuit got ran over.” you sit up in your bed, trying to take in the information that you just got, so early in the morning, your brain still trying to start up.

Tears brim your eyes in realization.

Biscuit, your childhood service dog, has passed away.

“N-no…” You shake your head in denial. “No, not my baby. Not Biscuit.” you continue to shake your head while Matt looks at you with sympathy and distress. “I’m so sorry, baby.” you immediately begin sobbing, tears streaming down your face like a rapid river. Nick comes in the room because he hears crying.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. It’s gonna be okay, I swear.” Nick whispers, pulling you into his arms and kissing your head gently. “M-my baby.” you huff, making yourself fall into Matt’s arms. “I know baby. I’m sad too. But it’s gonna be okay. I swear on it. Okay?” Matt whispers against your hair. You shrug “W-where’s she at?” you ask, sniffling softly.

“Me and Chris got her all comfy in a little container, with her favorite toys and blanket, and we buried her in the backyard.” Matt whispered, his grip tightening on you because he knows those words will break you.

“O-oh my baby.” You huff, her body trembling with sobs. ���I know. I know.” Matt sighs, rubbing your back. “And guess what? Biscuit is all comfy in her little house, with her teddy and favorite blanket.” you shrug and nod.

“I promise baby, we’ll be a fine line.”

©️pretzelposts

a/n: this is so short, but i got bored and really wanted to post. i’m SO sorry if i made you cry, i personally did, but i really couldn’t think of anything else to write besides this. love you so much, hope you enjoyed 🩷.

[xxxsluttykiddoxxx]

You voted for my abuse

There was a three way tie for pathetic tasks you all wanted me to do, so I put them all together🤭

I immediately stripped all my clothes off. Walking naked through the house, I looked for things to stuff in my little drippy pussy. I started with a marker I was coloring with earlier. Then a make up brush. Then the handle of a screwdriver, it was ribbed. Then a spatula that an old man used to spank my ass with. Then a carrot. Then a dog toy another old man bought for me. Then the end of my bed post, but that was so scary I stopped after a few pumps. Then the handle of a plugger. Then the grip of a knife, had to be very careful. And ended with straddling the neck of a wine bottle. I took each object slow and deep. Creating a vivid fantasy around every item that entered my tight hole.

By that point, I was a soaked, panting, desperate whore. I slapped my suction dildo on a window, opened the blinds, and shoved myself on it. Bent in half, hands on the floor, I slammed in and out, my ass slapping the window. The sun was bright and I was facing the road.

When I was reaching the edge, I forced myself off. I took off the dildo and ran to the next room to my full length mirror. I jump to my knees and suctioned it to the mirror. I start to watch myself suck it clean of my juices. I sat there until I came. On the floor, gagging on a pussy covered dildo, tears down my cheeks, staring into my own eyes, furiously rubbing my clit.

I came so hard, I yelled on the cock in my throat. I had to lay on the floor for a few minutes after to recover.

[semiferalstreetcoyote]

ok i wanted to do something for croma week rlly bad and since i'm not that confident in my art skills i wrote a fanfic :) its only about 2k words, i've never really done this before tho so i hope it turned out ok lol (ignore that it’s a day late)

“Did Lord Death really need to rent a venue this far away?”

“Maka, keep your fucking eyes on the road!”

“I wouldn’t need to keep looking back and forth if you read off the directions like you were supposed to!”

Soul grumbled something about the ‘straightforward’ instructions under his breath in reply. When Maka glanced at him, his dirty sneakers that he had insisted on wearing were smudging the dashboard and he was very clearly watching a Minecraft parkour video. Despite the lack of space in the back, she was regretting giving him shotgun privileges. She could have made room somewhere. Overlooking the trunk was too generous a move.

In the rearview mirror she checked on her passengers. Kid sat in the middle seat – the ‘bitch seat’, as Patti refused to stop calling it. Liz and Patti sat on either side in matching white dresses. Their outfits had been painstakingly planned out by Kid weeks in advance. On each side of his chest he wore a perfectly positioned white boutonniere.

“Kid,” Maka asked into the mirror, “why is your dad going to all this trouble? Couldn’t we just do this on school grounds?”

“He mentioned something-or-other about wanting to do ‘something normal’ for the student body. I believe all of this is wildly unnecessary, but… you know Dad.”

“Ah.”

“Maka, that’s – that’s the turn. You’re missing it. Get the – no, the sign with the balloons on it. Maka!”

“I got it! Stop yelling in my damn ear, Soul!”

The venue that Lord Death had chosen was rectangular and beige, with large cardboard letters that spelled ‘PROM’ adorning the entrance. They weren’t lit up and so they loomed in the darkness above the students. Even though the little parking lot, too, was dim, it was clear that most of the spots were taken.

“Maka, your clock reads eight-o’-four,” chirped Kid from the back seat. “Prom started at eight o’ clock. Your clock is fast, right?”

Soul sighed. “Calm down, Kid. Ever heard of being fashionably late? It’s cool.”

“I don’t see what’s ‘cool’ about being late.”

“Yep, that checks out.”

“Frankly, I don’t need somebody who wears Air Jordans to a formal event lecturing me on what’s ‘cool’ and what isn’t.”

“Both of you please shut up.” Maka swerved into a free space at the end of the lot and the jolt, thankfully, quieted the bickering men.

Black Star and Tsubaki stood outside the entrance and greeted the group when they arrived, by leaping up and down and waving, respectively. Soul ran ahead and ended up in a headlock, his friend shaking him around like a dog with a toy. Maka chuckled under her breath. Black Star was Soul’s reason for showing up at the micro-event. Neither of them could miss such a cool, super-cool gathering of coolness.

As soon as Maka stepped inside, she was snow-blind. Had Lord Death decided on ‘the color white’ as the theme? White streamers, white paper lining the floor, and was that a cutout of a polar bear in the corner? It had to be. The disappointment that hit Maka did not seem to affect Soul and Black Star in the slightest. Both of them trotted off to explore. Tsubaki, now separate from her friend, crept up to Maka.

“Hi, Maka.”

“Hi, Tsubaki! How did getting Black Star up here go?”

“He tried to wear one of those dollar sign necklaces. He… has a sense of style!”

Maka grimaced. “He sure has one.”

“Crona is already here, by the way. I saw them in the window while we were waiting for you.”

Maka would have been content staying at home studying the whole night. Crona was her reason to go. Prom was nothing more than an excuse to see the people you adore, after all, and the more time she spent with them, the more her affection grew.

“Really? Where are they?”

“Over there.”

Tsubaki pointed to what appeared to be a snack bar. Crona stood crooked beside a wide punch bowl, observing the dancers on the floor. Tsubaki giggled and threw Maka back to the present. She had been staring.

“Tsubaki, look at them. Look at their bowtie. They’re so cute, I’m… my hands are so sweaty. Ew.” She laughed to herself.

“They really do look nice. You go talk to them. I’m going to say hello to Liz and Patti.”

“Got it. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck! You’ll do just fine.”

Crona spotted Maka after she was already speeding toward them. They jolted and offered an awkward wave hello.

“Crona! Hi! Is it okay if I give you a hug?”

“Oh! Th– that’s fine!”

Maka threw her arms around them in a bear hug. She wasn’t sure if the lavender smell on them was the work of false fragrance or a real plant in their pocket, but she loved it all the same. Their jacket itself was soft. Very soft. She buried her forehead into their shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you, too. I, uh… missed you.”

“God, you see her all the time. You saw her two days ago, dumbass.”

Maka forced a smile. “Hi, Ragnarok.”

“Ignore him,” Crona whispered. “Do you like the decorations? It was mostly Marie and me setting them up.”

“They’re nice. I’m, uh… not sure I understand the theme.”

Crona lit up and snatched a solo cup from the table beside them. They filled it with the punch and handed it to Maka.

“Try it. It’ll make sense, I promise.”

“...Oh, it’s coca-cola.”

Crona pointed to the cutout of the polar bear. Up close, Maka could see that someone had draped a scarf around its shoulders.

“Oh my God, is the prom coca-cola bear themed?”

They nodded vigorously. “Marie came up with it after Lord Death bought nothing but white decorations.”

“That’s adorable! I… don’t think anybody’s going to get it, though.”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m over here, so I can explain it to anyone who doesn’t know.”

Maka squinted. “Your plan is to be over here, pouring soda for everyone the whole time?”

“Um… yes?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather tag along with me instead?”

Maka saw Crona begin to blush. The abundance of black blood let off a gray color instead of the typical red. Crona looked back and forth; the confidence that they once held had evaporated into the stuffy room.

“Are you sure that I wouldn’t bother you, or anything?”

“Of course you wouldn’t bother me. Actually, I’d really like to spend time with you.”

Crona agreed, thankfully, because Maka’s face burnt and she was not entirely sure what she would say if they had any other doubts. Together they said hello to the chaperones – Marie, Sid, Stein, and Naigus, each of them commenting on the secret theme and Crona’s involvement – and bounced between Tsubaki’s group and the snack bar. Despite the attractions and the people to spend time with, Maka’s attention remained consistently fixed upon Crona.

They had been engaged in this routine for an hour until the dj’s cacophonous dance music was abruptly replaced by some 80s love ballad that Maka couldn’t remember the name of. From the snack bar, they watched groups break off into pairs or cluster at the back of the room.

“The music’s quieter now,” noted Crona.

“Yeah. It’s so that everyone who brought a date can, well… have their date. It’s the whole reason couples come here, anyway.”

“Oh.”

She took a deep breath and wiped her palms onto her dress. “Do you want to dance with me, Crona?”

Crona froze, their mouth open, a small pretzel still in their hand. “Are you- are you sure that you want to? With me? I - I’ve never really done this before and I don’t want to ruin–”

“I’m sure. I’ve kind of been hoping that I’d get to dance with you since I got here.”

Crona’s whole face bore smudges of gray, like charcoal. They scratched the back of their neck and, with great care, held out their hand for Maka. She took it.

“Awh, your hands are sweaty, too!”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay! I don’t mind, I promise.”

After a few failed attempts at a traditional dance, the pair decided that the best course of action would be to follow the precedent set by the other couples and rock back and forth holding each other. Maka could hear Crona’s heartbeat even over the music. Every once in a while they asked for some form of confirmation – was Maka comfortable, was she still okay with it, and so on – and each time, she reassured them.

“I’ve been having a really good time with you,” she whispered during the song’s closing solo.

“Yeah. This is really nice… thank you for dancing with me, Maka.”

“Mhm! Like I said, I really wanted to.”

Crona just smiled and pulled Maka closer. What was once a loud growl of dozens of people talking throughout the room had died down to a distant humming. She could focus on them, their texture, their smell, everything. Nobody else existed.

The song changed from classic rock back to modern pop and the roar started up again. Maka looked around at the groups of friends reclaiming the dance floor, and among them, she spotted Black Star and Soul dancing – perhaps they thought that they were on fire and they were flailing in fear. That would explain quite a bit.

“These idiots,” she scoffed.

“Hey, Casanova,” Ragnarok sneered, “Why don’t you take your lady friend upstairs?”

“Oh, no, they said not to go up there.”

“Come on, I’m trying to do you a favor here!”

“Ragnarok, shut the fuck up.” Maka looked from the vile little ghoulie back to Crona. “What’s upstairs?”

“Oh, it’s just the roof. Marie said not to let anyone up there because someone could fall.”

She side-eyed Black Star, who was doing some sort of dance that involved clenching his hands into fists and wiggling his arms very very fast. “Did she name any names?”

Crona seemed to see, too. They winced. “I guess that rule was probably for him. It’s so loud in here… we can go up there, if you want. So we can hear each other better. I don’t think that would be against the rules.”

They snuck through the stairwell door after Crona revealed its location – obscured behind one of the bear cutouts. Outside, nothing could be heard of the party except for a muffled beat. Nothing could be felt except for a cool night breeze. Against the horizon, turbines whirred valiantly in the darkness. Both of them sat down side by side in the middle of the roof.

“This is much better,” sighed Maka.

“Mm.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just happy. This past…well, everything has been really nice. Thanks for hanging out with me, Maka.”

“Of course. You don’t have to keep thanking me.” She grinned and nudged their shoulder.

“Sorry. Habit. I just don’t know how to say it. Being with you at the DWMA has been… I’ve been happy. Especially because of you. You’re amazing. I really… I really like you.”

“I really like you, too. You’re one of the bravest people I know.” She was smiling. Her face hurt from it. “Hey. Crona. Look at me, okay?”

“Hm?”

Maka leaned in. She waited, in case Crona wanted to pull away, and when they only leaned closer she held their jawline and kissed them. A second later it was over, and she was staring into their eyes again. Those eyes sparkled like lightning in the desert.

“Hi.” They said after a sizeable trail of stammering.

She giggled. “Hi.”

For a time – there was no way to be certain whether it was minutes or hours – Maka leaned against their shoulder and the two of them spoke in whispers while they looked at the stars. The kiss seemed to give Crona a second wind of courage and they had their free arm caressing Maka’s.

“The others and I are going to go to my place after this and watch a movie,” she said. “I’d really like it if you came.”

“Are you sure they wouldn’t mind?”

“Are you kidding? They all like you. Even Kid.”

“Mm.” They smiled. “I’ll come with you, then.”

A coyote cried out somewhere in the distance.

“All of this really has been great. Even the shitty music and the coke bear theme.”

“Your lips tasted like coke when you kissed me.”

Maka laughed. “Well, there’s worse things, I guess.”

It was almost midnight when Soul and Black Star lost their energy at the dance. They were some of the last to leave apart from the chaperones themselves. What this meant was a lot of barefoot waiting in the car for Maka, Crona, Kid, Liz, and Patty.

“Okay, we’ve gotten through… fourteen songs waiting,” sighed Liz. “Any requests for the fifteenth?”

“I don’t think I know any more songs,” said Crona.

“Really? That’s tragic. Liz, play something classic,” Kid ordered.

“Classic or classical? I can never tell with you.”

“Wait, hold on!” Maka gripped the steering wheel. “Here he comes!”

Soul walked across the parking lot, his tie undone and his shoelaces spilling over the pavement. He was a mess. He staggered to the shotgun door and opened it, only noticing too late how it was occupied.

“What? Crona? Huh. Would you mind moving over?”

“Sorry, Soul. You snooze, you lose.” Maka smiled. “You’ll just have to sit somewhere else.”

“Wh–? There’s no more seats. Where am I going to sit?”

“Well, there’s always the trunk.”

[rjalker]

since I keep forgetting and the post keeps getting too long:

feral cat going on a rant to a former, and only just recently strayed indoor only cat about how no, being feral does not mean you're some super cool hero who knows everything and is always one step ahead of everything and living a life of amazing fun adventure. It means never having shelter or safety and knowing that the humans who brought you here broke their promise to not only you, but to your parents and their parents, and now they're all fucking gone so there's no more chances for them to even fix it. Being feral means not knowing whether you're going to survive the day or whether the flowers you're walking past are going to kill you. It means knowing your existence is actively destroying the world around you but you can't do anything about it except decide to die, and what the fuck kind of choice is that?

for a book about the pets left to fend for themselves after the apocalypse.

you are 100% encouraged to take this idea and run with it. It came from a dream I had several years ago now that I just randomly remembered for some reason.

Edit:

You know what, all my books are gonna be public domain anyways, you can just have the two things I wrote for this and use them as writing prompts for your own original story.

= = =

Quote #1

That was the final straw.

"What do you mean you don't know?" [Indoor only cat] burst out, whirling on [Feral cat] "You're feral, aren't you?! You're supposed to know these kinds of things! What do you mean, 'I don't know'??"

[Feral cat] leapt backward and landed, back arched, ears pinned as [Y] hissed, tail twitching just above the ground. A growl started building in [Feral cat]'s throat as [Indoor only cat] stared, shocked by the display of open and abject fear in every line of [Feral cat]'s body.

"What are you--" [A] started to say, bewildered, taking a step forward.

[Feral cat]'s growl turned into a yowl, and [Indoor only cat] froze, unable to comprehend what was happening.

They stayed like that for a dozen racing heartbeats before [Indoor only cat] realized that backing away might be a good idea. And so would apologizing, now that [pronoun] thought about it. [A] backed up several steps, fighting to keep [C] body language relaxed and calm.

“I wasn't trying to scare you.” [Indoor only cat] said,

= = =

Quote #2

"You think that's what feral means? You think being feral means knowing this kind of shit? You think ferals are kings of the streets, fearing nothing, knowing everything? Who the fuck told you that bullshit, your family's free roaming dog? Probably wanted to cover for the fact that he hadn't killed any of us yet and wanted to make himself feel better! You want to know what feral means, lapcat? It means watching all of your siblings die from the cold, or disease, or because they ran into the road and didn't see the car coming. It means watching your mother get killed by a stinking dog with a fancy collar and a shiny tag because her owner couldn't be bothered to keep her on a leash, and she thinks disemboweling cats is the greatest fun since humans invented squeaky toys! Feral means knowing that every human who sees you either hates your stinking guts and will try to run you over, or doesn't give a shit whether you live or die, just as long as you do it somewhere out of sight. It means knowing that your parents parents were house cats, living it up in luxury, just like the humans promised, until one day their humans realized your grandmother was pregnant, and decided they weren't worth the effort of keeping around anymore, not when there'd be kittens to feed, and broke their stinking promise by throwing them out on the street to fend for themselves. Feral means starving every day until you get lucky, and knowing every time you do that every other animal in this stinking city wants you dead with a vengeance. We don't stinking belong here, do you even understand that? We're not supposed to be here! The humans stinking brought us to this whole island, and they were supposed to take care of us, keep us safe inside their homes where nothing could hurt us and we wouldn't have to hurt the wildlife!

We came with the humans, and they were supposed to uphold their end of the bargain, but they didn't! They just kept breaking it, and didn't even try to fix things!

Even the ones who said they wanted to help you, they don't really care at all, they just want to stop you from having kittens, but they don't care what happens to you!

You see this stinking notch on my ear? That's from the human I thought was going to adopt me, bring me home and keep me safe – Well guess what? She lied! She didn't want to help me, she just wanted to stop me from having my own kittens some day, and as soon as that was done, she threw me back into the woods! She just kept stinking saying it was better this way, because I would be so sad if I was brought inside, and she didn't want to listen when I begged her not to put me back! And she didn't listen! Because she didn't care!

The humans brought us here, and broke their promise, and now you, one of the stinking lucky ones, think being feral is a good thing? You think it's a stinking mark of pride? You think it means I know anything and everything I need to to survive out here?

You think I can tell you whether or not this stinking carcass is safe to eat? You think being feral means I magically know what's going to kill me? What's next, you're gonna tell me you think I somehow know when it's safe to cross the street without a human running me over? Have you seen my stinking tail? I'll give you three guesses to how that happened!

Being feral is not some cool heroic stinking journey, housecat, it's a stinking nightmare, brought down on us by shitty humans who couldn't be bothered to do the one job they'd accepted! And now it's too stinking late for them to fix any of it, because now they're all gone, and they're never coming back!

Even if some of them are still alive, none of them are coming back for us, because now you, and the rest of your housekept friends, are no better than we are – feral. And to humans, feral means stinking useless. And don't you give me some sob story about how your human is different, your human really cares, your human is going to come back for you. You lived right on top of ground zero. Your human was probably dead before the first night was even over.”

= = =

and yes these could just be part of the same scene but I wrote them separately, so you can just mush them together if you want.

The key point here is that they have to have actual cat body language though, so if you don't know what that looks like you should definitely learn before writing this. pro tip: cats don't hiss when they're angry.

[silvermaplealder]

Hellhound Adventures: David Chapter 2

I'm making David suffer what I'm suffering through. Writing this is actually super duper helpful for me going through my puppy blues. I'll probably write one more chapter for David before moving onto the next boy and his pup! I might do little short snippets and spin offs depending on how I'm feeling since this is now my therapy lol.

Warning: David briefly mentions killing a puppy (he won't, I promise!), and then also mentions unaliving himself.

Chapter 2: David Hates Puppies

Word Count: 2400ish

Only Dwayne knew about what was happening. David and Dwayne had spent several nights collecting everything they needed for the new puppy. David didn’t want Paul and Marko to know about the puppy yet knowing that they would be too overwhelmed with excitement. The two vampires roamed through various pet stores and grabbed everything they needed. Puppy food, a crate, a playpen, various sized leashes, a collar, a harness, toys, and plenty of treats. The two of them even sought out a sidecar for David’s motorcycle for the pup to ride in. It was surprisingly easy to keep this all away from Paul and Marko by creating little lies. Dog bed? Prank on Paul. Collar and leash? David’s trying something new with a human friend. Dog crate? It was for Marko’s pigeons. The only thing he actually attempted to hide was the puppy food because that was the one thing that he didn’t have an excuse for. 

Finally, the night came to when the puppy would be picked up. David’s undead heart was overwhelmed with anxiety as he and Dwayne rode out to Stella’s house to pick up their new companion. 

You good? Dwayne asked telepathically, sensing the ungodly amounts of anxiety coming from his best friend. 

I’m not ready for this, David admitted as they rode through the dark back roads. I don’t know jack shit about puppies. 

Don’t worry, Dwayne said soothingly. There’s four of us and one puppy. I’m sure we can handle it. And Max can help if we’re too overwhelmed.  

David cast a nervous glance to Dwayne. The blonde was riddled with self doubt. I know, but what if I fuck up? What if it dies? What if- 

The “what ifs” is your anxiety talking, Dwayne responded. You gotta start somewhere. And we’re starting here. If Max thinks you’ll be a good dog dad then- 

Oh my god I’m a parent, David let out a small wince at the thought. A parent? At his age? Unbelievable. It was probably his eternal 20 year old brain that made him sick at the idea of being a parent. He still had so much of his life to live. Or well, undead life. 

With each passing minute David’s anxiety heightened to the point where he thought he’d have to pull over and vomit. 

How is it different than us? Dwayne asked softly. You basically vampire parented Paul, Marko, and I. And look how we turned out.

David clenched his jaw, forcing his anxiety to drop a little bit. It still wasn’t enough though. 

The two vampires arrived at Stella’s house. They turned off the engines of their bikes and dismounted. Dwayne waited patiently for David to muster up the strength to walk to the door. A week ago, David was ready to just waltz into the cave with a puppy in tow. But now that it was a reality and he saw just how much work goes into it, he was scared. 

David approached the door, but he didn’t have to knock before the door swung open and Stella was on the other side. “Well hello David!” She purred. “Are you ready to take home your little girl?” 

He inclined his head, a smirk playing on his face. Outwardly he looked confident and collected, but Dwayne knew deep down he was one second away from collapsing in a puddle on the floor. 

Stella brought the two vampires to the whelping box. Already two other puppies were missing, leaving just five left. David bent down and instantly the blue collared pup ran over, tail wagging. She bounced up against the edge of the pen and he scooped her up. She quickly snuggled against his chest as he held her close. “Max already handled the bill,” Stella explained. “But I do have this for you.” She handed Dwayne a folder. “It has the paperwork from the veterinarian. I use Marty Cooper for any vet work. He’s one of the few hellhound vets in the area.”

“Got it,” David said, the words going in one ear and out the other. He was so focused on the small puppy that nothing else in life was real anymore. 

Stella gave Dwayne a small bag of food to take home and a blanket that smelled like the mother dog. “The blanket will be a good comfort item for her. It’s her first time being alone from her mom and littermates in her whole life. She’ll need some time to adjust. Give her up to around 3 weeks until she feels adjusted to you and your household. And you can always reach out to me if you have any questions.” 

“Of course,” Dwayne said, speaking for David who was mesmerized by the puppy. The brunette had to help corral David outside back to his motorcycle. 

David set the little puppy in the side car. Her bright eyes stared back up at him. “Well ain’t she the cutest-” 

She put her paws up on the edge and whimpered. 

“Don’t cry,” he tried to sooth. The little puppy began to whine louder. 

David dug through the one saddlebag on his bike and pulled out the harness and leash. Getting the harness on her took the two of them to keep her from bouncing out of it before they could buckle it. They tied the leash to the seat to keep her from jumping out, but it was clear she was distressed. “What do I do?” David asked to Dwayne, the residential ‘father’ figure of the group. 

Dwayne tilted his head. “Nothing you can do. She’s scared, David. It’s her first time away from everything she knows. We should take the ride home slow, and don’t be surprised if she cries the whole time.” 

----

Dwayne was right. She did cry the whole time. The intensity of her squeals was enough for David to rethink if he did the right thing of getting a puppy. Once he stopped the motorcycle, he untied the makeshift seatbelt and picked her up. Her whimpers died down and she snuggled right into him. He exhaled knowing that the wailing was over… for now. 

“Can’t believe her,” David mumbled. 

“Did you do any research before getting her or…?” Dwayne asked casually. 

“Fuck off. I did,” David snapped back. While he did do some research, he didn’t do it well. He pretty much only read up on what they could and couldn’t eat. The basics of teaching ‘sit’ and ‘down’. Everything else he figured couldn’t be harder than vampire pups. 

The two vampires carried the little puppy into the cave. Paul and Marko were both lounging around doing their own things. Laddie was playing a card game with Star. The four other residents didn’t even bat an eye as David and Dwayne walked in. 

“Boys,” David’s voice echoed, getting everyone’s attention. “We have a new member of our gang.” He looked down to the puddle of puppy in his arms. 

Paul and Marko sat bolt upright, their eyes widening. “Holy shit!” Marko gasped. “A puppy! You got a puppy!” There was a mess of limbs as the two blonde vampires tumbled and shoved each other to get to David first. David hunched his shoulders to protect the puppy from their sudden appearance. 

“Puppy!” Laddie shouted, putting his cards down and joining the others. 

David showed the large eyed puppy to his companions. “She’s a hellhound. I met her last week and decided that we could use a protector for our cave.” 

Star hesitantly joined the rest of the crew. “And when do you expect her to be protecting the home, hm?” She asked. “Have you ever had a puppy before?” 

David shrugged. “We’ll show her the ropes and I’m sure it’s all instinct from there.” 

“Puppies take a lot of work, David,” Star commented. “It takes two years for a puppy to fully mature. And you'll need to train her. And socialize her. It's not all puppy cuddles." 

"Didn't realize we invited Debby Downer to the party," Marko teased. 

Star shot him a stern look. "My family was notorious for bringing home animals all the time," she snapped back. "I know a thing or two about raising a puppy. And it's going to take a lot of patience and work." 

"I've raised other vampires before," David commented. Paul and Marko had him surrounded, petting the overwhelmed puppy. "This can't be as hard." 

Star nervously crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm just saying… good luck." 

-----

David didn't believe Star at first. Why, he had raised all the over vampires in the cave and it wasn't too hard. Sure he had to deal with the vampire biting and the aggression and attitude problems. He didn't see how such a sleepy, young puppy could cause such chaos.

But the puppy- who he tenderly named Elsinore (after the 1910 earthquake near lake Elsinore), proved her right. It took her a couple days to adjust to the cave. While Paul and Marko wanted to help with the puppy as much as possible, it was clear that Elsinore preferred David. She cried endlessly for his attention. In her crate she howled unless he was beside her. After a while he made a nest on the floor where he slept so she could be with him. Which- he didn't understand. She was to be his day time protector and yet she slept not only the whole day, but a majority of the night too. 

David was exhausted after the first week. He felt like he was taking care of a toddler. She needed constant supervision even while sleeping otherwise she'd wake up and cause chaos. She was too nervous to venture further out from the cave unless David held her. Even then, she'd bury her face in his chest and whimper. 

David assigned Marko and Paul to watch her as he left for Max’s house. He needed to get some answers. 

The blonde vampire wasted no time getting to Max’s house. He flew to save on time. David burst through the front door, resulting in Thorn’s barking. “Thorn!” Max’s house called out from the living room. “David, you could knock,” the elder vampire added. David followed the sounds to the living room where his sire and his hellhound were relaxing. “How's your little girl doing?” Max asked. 

David put his hands on his hips. “How’s she doing,” he mocked. “She’s the spawn of satan.” 

“That’s what it’s like having a puppy,” Max commented. 

David stalked over towards the couch and collapsed on it. He propped up his boots on Max’s coffee table. Max’s lips twisted in a frown as he saw the spurs touch his beautiful wooden table. “You didn’t warn me about the other shit.” 

“I thought you did your research,” Max stated. “Having a puppy is more than just cuddles and cuteness. They’re living creatures that need love and attention, but also enrichment.” 

“She screams almost every goddamn second that I’m away from her. I can’t leave the cave to go hunting because she screams. Can’t go to the boardwalk, she screams. When does it stop?” David pinched the bridge of his nose. The bags under his eyes were more noticeable than usual. He was exhausted. 

Max adjusted his glasses. “Well, it takes a lot to raise a puppy. It’s like having a toddler. She bonded with you and now you need to take care of her.” 

“I’m tired, Max. I’m exhausted. I’m about ready to punt kick her off the cliff- in a loving manner,” he added. 

“Welcome to the puppy blues,” Max stated. He motioned over to the mantle above his fireplace. “Grab a bottle and take a seat. Let’s talk.” David did as he directed, which was a first. He grabbed the nicest bottle of whiskey and dropped onto the white leather couch again. Max inhaled deeply. “I know everything is quite overwhelming right now, but it does get better. It really does. Puppies are like toddlers. They need sleep, love, and food.” 

“I need sleep, love, and food,” David growled. 

Max rose his eyebrows. “You’re an adult, she’s not. Puppies need between 18 to 20 hours of sleep a day. That’s a lot of sleep, and you need to make sure that she gets those hours in. That means, you should only be interacting with her for around five hours a day. Sleep deprived puppies will result in the unwanted behaviors that you’ve been experiencing.” 

“It’s like she doesn’t want to sleep,” he argued. 

“She will, you just have to help her realize that.” Max motioned to the crate in the corner of the room. “Put her in her crate for a nap. Make sure she’s comfortable with it and she’ll be happy to nap any time you put her in it.” 

Just from Max’s motion, Thorn rose and trotted to his crate. The senior hellhound laid down and placed his chin on his paws. 

“How long did it take Thorn to learn that?” David asked. 

“Months, David. A good hellhound will be ready for work at around two years old. In the meantime, you’ve got to get the groundwork started for her.” Max could see the light dying in David’s eyes. He sat forward on the couch and stared at his eldest son. “David- this will pass. The puppy blues don’t last forever. She won’t be a puppy forever.” 

“Good. Can’t wait till she’s not a puppy. Better yet, can’t wait till she’s ready to retire,” David growled. “I’ll never get a hellhound again.” 

“Well, then why don’t you look at this situation as a learning experience? You’ll never get another hellhound again, so what’s the harm in spending the time now while you have a puppy? No more pups after this one. Might as well enjoy your time with her.” 

David ground his teeth and sighed. “I suppose so. Never again though Max.” 

“Everyone gets the puppy blues, David. Everyone feels overwhelmed when they get their first puppy. It’s a lot of stress all piled up onto your shoulders. You’re not alone, David. Think about how many others are going through this with you right now. There are six other vampires out there that purchased her littermates. Maybe you should reach out to the other puppy buyers and spend time with them?” 

“I’d rather just throw myself off the cliff, thanks.” David sighed. His chest was tight with uncontrollable anxiety as he took a swig from the bottle. He needed it to settle all of his worries. 

Max frowned. “Remember David, this will pass. Everything will get better as she grows. Stay strong my boy.” 

-----------------

Tags: @misslavenderlady