#Johnny the Hound Dog

[nickelodeonshows]

The Johnny Show: 4th of July 🎆

[singeratlarge]

HAPPY HEAVENLY BIRTHDAY to Elvis Presley. When he turned 11, his mother Gladys took him to the Tupelo Hardware Company Store and bought him his first guitar: A 1947 Kay flat-top K19. He’d play this guitar throughout his school years and at his first Sun recording session. Also on this day: In 1956 his double-A single “Don’t Be Cruel/Hound Dog” went to #1 and stayed there for weeks. Fast forward to 1993 and the United States Post Office issued an Elvis Presley stamp. 

Sidebar: 1n 1976 David Bowie demo’d the song “Golden Years” with Elvis in mind to cover it (for unclear reasons Elvis nixed it even after making a demo). Rewind to 1960 when Elvis recorded the song “Black Star” (later re-titled “Flaming Star”). That song directly inspired the Black Star theme of Bowie’s final work, and it’s remarkable that Bowie was also born on the same day as Elvis.

In 2022 Baz Luhrmann released the ELVIS film, a biopic that most people think “got it right,” portraying Elvis as channeling Pentacostal church rapture with juke joint energy into one voice, one vibration. He looms over me, be it through mindful study or cultural resonance—in 1989 I named my back-up The Rover Boys after the surname for The Million Dollar Quartet a.k.a Elvis’s legendary 1956 jam session with Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Carl Perkins. Like many professional musicians, I started with cover bands playing in bars, and I’m certain I’ve learned many Elvis hits + in my solo set I do gospel songs that he favored.

Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” is based on “Plaisir d’Amour,” a 1784 French chanson by Jean-Paul-Égide Martini, re-written by hit-making team Hugo & Luigi w/George David Weiss. The lyrics are informed by poet Alexander Pope and Bible verses. I always enjoyed the tune, but when I heard Bob Dylan cover it, I became inspired to play it. Dylan gave it a gospel flair, and that triangulation with God’s love is what I aim for when I do it. Here’s my cover of it with stories https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEeb6uPiQWI&t=217s Meanwhile, HB EP 

#Elvis #Presley #birthday #black #star #DavidBowie #GoldenYears #Martini #chanson #HugoandLuigi #DavyJones #Monkees #Epiphone #johnnyjblair #Kayguitar #HoundDog #Dontbecruel #king #milliondollarquartet #Johnny #Cash #JerryLeeLewis #CarlPerkins #BobDylan #Dylan #singeratlarge #postage #stamp

[meme-streets]

my favorite thing in music is when they yell random shit or wordlessly scream in the middle of the song

[inkonparchment]

sentinel - re4r bodyguard!Leon x college student!reader.

how are you supposed to enjoy college when Leon's always breathing down your neck?

"You're scaring them off," You huff, slouching back in your seat.

"That's kind of my point." Leon replies matter-of-factly.

"Your point is to keep me safe from any kidnappers or psycho murderers," You glare at him, "Not to scare off guys who want to talk to me."

When he only replies with a shrug of his shoulders, you roll your eyes and concentrate back at the drink in your hand.

The bar was quite busy today, music blaring in the background as the noise of chatter filled the air. If you craned your head far enough from your booth, you could spot the pool table that was currently hounded by a group of guys, pool sticks in one hand, and a beer in the other. Your eyes strayed over to the girls that were lounging near them, a sigh escaping your lips.

What else were college students supposed to do at Friday night anyways except to drink away their stress?

Your eyes fall back to the brunette man that was now walking away, redirected by Leon's presence from where he was clearly coming to talk to you. You bit the inside of your cheek in frustration, the condensation on your glass slipping down into your fingers.

Leon doesn't even sit. Oh no, he stands there to the side with some distance between you two like a guard dog. All sharp angles, harsh eyes, and shoulders so broad that he's nearly always blocking light from reaching you.

"You could just sit, you know," You scoff not trying to hide the irritation in your tone.

Leon finally looks at you, his icy gaze sending an electric shock down your spine. There's no softness behind the look he's giving you; a glare if you squint. And you've been at the receiving end of it many times now, scaring you once but now its just boring you.

You take a sip of your drink. "Okay, if you think that look is gonna shut me up, then you have another thing coming."

You're not sure if Leon has anything to say in reply to that because you lift your eyes to see Mia walk back to you from the bar with a shy look in her eyes. You grin, knowing what she's going to say, witnessing her talking to Johnny, chuckling to yourself at the way they were standing close to each, flirty touches and all.

"So," Mia giggles airily when she comes to a stop, "I um, I think me and Johnny are going to head out now."

Her giggling is infectious because it has you caught in it too. "Yeah, no shit. He looks like a man in love with the way he has his eyes on you."

Mia's eyes flit to Leon for a second, who is determinedly looking away. "You'll be okay?"

You grin and wave her off. "Absolutely. Now go, have fun. And be safe!"

She fixes you with a mortified look before she's tumbling out of the pub, hands locked with Johnny.

You sigh, albeit a little pathetically unable to help yourself from looking at Leon. You thank god that he's not suited up but instead in a pair of washed-out jeans, a black tee, and a leather jacket that's hiding the way the shirt stretches across the expanse of his chest.

You still remember the first day he had shown up to your dorm, clad in a suit and sunglasses, dressed up exactly like the men that would surround your father when you would visit home.

You had slammed shut the door in his face, furious as you had called up your dad and told him how this was going to be social murder. But it was pointless, and Leon was to keep you company from now on.

One kidnapping attempt and suddenly everyone loses their mind.

With yet another sigh, you clamber out of the booth, straightening up to see Leon beginning to move as well. "Okay woah," You hold your hands up, "I'm just going to the ladies room."

"Let me go-"

"And what? Camp out in one of the stalls?"

"At least let me check."

"Leon, no one's going to jump me in the bathroom."

He fixes you with a knowing stare, and you feel your cheeks get warm. "And I won't try to ditch you this time."

With that, he relents and steps away, allowing you to walk to the small hallway in the back. It's mostly empty, smiling politely at the girl who's exiting out of the bathroom as you take your place in front of the mirror.

You're not sure why you're in here, staring at your reflection in the mirror, only the sound of the running faucet keeping you company. Leon's presence always puts you on the edge. Not uncomfortable, no. In fact the gnawing sensation in the pit of your stomach that was there since your kidnapping attempt has long since quieted after Leon's arrival.

But he does something to you. You just can't tell what it is, frustrating you to no ends.

After splashing your face with cold water, you step back out, stomach dropping slightly when you see a man standing with his back against the wall next to the men's room door. He seems drunk, his posture a bit folded up on himself, shoulders slouched and eyes slow.

You don't spare him a glance, hoping to quietly evade him and go back to your booth. But it doesn't work, doesn't help because as soon as you're in front of him, you feel rough fingers encircle your wrist, nearly yanking you back.

You let out a gasp, a mixture of surprise and pain, hand jerking out to stabilize yourself but finding nothing causing you to stumble. Your misbalanced state allows the man to slither his free hand around your waist.

"You're a pretty doll," He sneers. And you almost choke, the smell of alcohol hitting you like a barrage.

"Let me go, please," You try, voice coming out weak and immediately hating yourself for it.

His fingertips are drilling into your skin through your shirt, pain beginning to fester. How long will it take to scrub him off from your skin? You struggle against him, breathe hitching in your throat as you're unable to release yourself from his grip his hand begins to wander down.

But just before he's able to move his hand down from the small of your back to your hips, there is movement. An exclamation of pain and a loud crashing noise.

You blink.

You don't see the drunk man anymore, his grip on you now vanished. Your vision is now flooded with Leon's back, his blonde hair glowing underneath the overhead light. Your stomach tightens. You didn't even see or hear Leon approach, unbelieving how he had gotten that man off of you.

Leon makes forward towards the man who's sprawled on the floor, but your hand around his bicep stops him. He turns around to see your eyes fixed on him, blown wide in worry. You shake your head, "He's just drunk."

His eyes flit across your face, eyebrows scrunched together and nursing your bottom lip between your teeth. You watch the storm brewing in his eyes dissipate, his jaw relaxing, replaced by something so warm and gentle that you look away, unconvinced of being worthy enough to be looked at like that.

His soft fingers curl around your chin, pulling you back to him, "You okay?"

You let out a hum of affirmation, feeling bare under his gaze, the scent of aftershave nearly knocking you off your feet as you suppressed a shiver.

All you can manage now is a whisper, "Take me home Leon."

[thegnomelord]

yk how they cover fighting dog's eyes in order to calm them down? would that work on Hound or just rile him up more? if it'd calm him down I can imagine when/if he's "better" enough he'd start shoving his face into price or any of the other 141 to feel safer/calm, like nuzzling in between their shoulder blades/neck or if they're lying down together just pushing his head into their arms 😶‍🌫️

hmmm Price holding Hound against his chest to calm him while he claws and begs into his captain's skin for forgiveness because he acted out again, even if Price had already forgiven him🤔

if the loss of sight just makes things worse then I can see all of them always making sure Hound can know where they are, making noise when they can and maybe even dragging their feet a bit so he doesn't swivel his head around constantly to look for them😚 ignore this if u want tho reading it back is making me cringe a bit-

No, no, anon this is great! Y'all are giving me so many ideas♥️

I definitely think Price would have done that to Hound before he got captured, putting his beanie or just his hand over Hound's eyes and talking about Hound like he wasn't even there to basically calm him down. Like you know how you're a kid sitting between your parents and they're talking about you but you're snoozing or something like that. It would have just been comforting for Hound.

But Makarov soured it by using sensory deprivation as a punishment. And a pretty severe one at that, so Hound gets extremely violent when his sight is deprived.

But also like, when Hound's better, letting them cover his eyes as just this huge show of trust just melts my heart. Like:

CW:SFW just a bunch of fluff, cuddle piles

This feels. . . strange.

You're laying on top of Price, practically crushing him beneath your weight, your head and shoulders pushed beneath his loose shirt so you can lay your head on his naked chest. It's dark, and warm, the scent of musk and sweat curls in your nose as his thick chest hair tickles your face with every even breath, his heart beating so calmly beneath your ears.

It's strange. It's the best way you can describe it; a part of you is disgusted with the proximity, panic occasionally jolting through your system and lining your muscles with lead as your body expects for the hit to come any moment. Only for a calloused hand to run down your spine gently, turning your tense muscles into mush.

"You're alright lad." His voice rumbles in his chest, a type of tone that is both calming and commanding. "Just listen to my voice yeah? Good boy," A pleasant shiver runs up your spine as the praise, a low whimper escaping you as you nuzzle your head further into his pecs. Your head feels stuffed with cotton yet his low praises still reach your brain, and it feels strange to get them without any work, to be praised just for simply existing, but it's also. . . nice.

"Oi Price-" You tense immediately as the door suddenly opens, loud voices shooting lightning into your muscles. Price scruffs you through the shirt before you can react any more, calming you down to the point you don't even notice what they're talking about.

"Wh- Soap!" Price shouts.

You feel the bed dip, a disgruntled sound leaving your chest as a body shuffles under Price's shirt next to you. Soap's scent hits your nose before his head bumps into yours, "Yer like a pig in shite pup." His hair scratches your face as he makes himself comfortable on Price's other pec, and you don't need sight to know he's grinning like a fool. "Cozy in 'ere."

"How comfortable are his tits?" Ghost's voice reaches your ears, and it must be his body that lays down next to yours, supporting some of your weight that you're not crushing Price by wrapping a loose hand around your waist. His body is solid against yours, both of them are, Johnny's arm wrapping around you just bellow Simon's hand, unapologetically groping your ass.

"Boys!" Price sputters, and without sight you can only imagine how flushed his face must be, he always got red as a lobster when you'd tease him. "Can't you be decent for one day?"

"We're wearing pants aren't we?" Gaz's laugh sounds somewhere behind you, and you're pretty sure it's Gaz that lays down between your legs, using your ass as a pillow. "Oh, wow," You hear him mumble as if astonished, heat burning across your skin as you feel him nuzzle into your ass.

A low whine escapes your throat without notice, and you're not sure why, just something about the way they handle you, like you're made of glass, makes lightning crackle down your spine.

"Do you want to stop?" Price's voice is non-judgmental, his hand brushing your hair that peeked through the stretched taught neckline of his shirt.

You shut your eyes, breathing in deeply. "No." You say, your arms gripping Price's pudgy stomach even tighter.

You feel Johnny shift closer to you, his lips blindly brushing against yours. "Aye, yer fine bonnie." He grins, and pushes his head to meet your lips in a proper kiss. You can taste the aftertaste of tobacco from his cigarettes and the mints on his tongue.

This is nice. You could get used to this.

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 2

<-former chapter ~ AO3 link I will block any ageless blogs. Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 6181.

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

Author's note: reminder that reader is kinda a bitch at some points, thinking mean, unjustified things about our 141 once in a while. Unreliable narrators, my sinner. Apologies for any grammatical errors , the bad russian and such. So uh, this got waaay longer than intended so here you go. It will be a couple of days before the next chapter, so enjoy this snack for u all, my sinners.

chapter 2: Delivery from the Hybrid's Den!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“I have a friend coming over for a while,” John softly said next morning, hand resting on your head, fingers stroking your long ears now and again,, “to help us with getting the boys settled.”

You were on the floor, half way beneath the kitchen table, snuggled up against Price’s leg, feeling much more needy, knowing the ‘boys’ as your owner called them, would be delivered later today or tomorrow. They needed to be chipped and Price had asked for a full health check from his vet, as well as vaccinations and dental care. John was a caring owner; the mere fact that he did this from the get go was proof of that. He had done the same when getting you, made sure that any recent wounds or scarring were taken care of - getting your teeth fixed and your nails checked.

You didn’t have much of your fangs left when he got you; your earlier owners had taken those, the memories still haunting you once in a while. They had done it without anesthesia, not even by professionals. Same with your claws, that wasn’t beneath your nails anymore, thanks to former owners as well. Price had gotten the wounds cleaned and fixed up; they had almost grown closed by now. For most of the time that you lived with John, he had made sure your nails were always done nicely, however you wanted them.

John was a good master. You loved him, more than you knew you should, desperate for his attention, acknowledgment and praise. You didn’t want to share him, not with these hounds he had decided to get…

… not with this apparent friend.

You didn’t answer with anything but a displeased sound, tightening your grip on Price’s pants; when he offered you another piece of sausage you were quick to eat it, licking at his fingers while he chuckled. For a moment your tail wagged, eating the food and pressing against his hand.

He couldn’t be serious - abruptly changing so many things? and you were just supposed to accept it? Finally, you replied.

“Do I know your friend?” You didn’t bother to seem excited in any way, your skepticism seeping into your voice like poison. Price took another sip of his tea, not commenting on it.

“You’ve met him before but it’s been years. First year I had you, I reckon. Remember Nikolai?” 

Nikolai. Nikolai. Different faces flashed for your eyes, trying to pinpoint who you had met that bore that name. 

“No,” you finally admitted.

“Can’t blame you, lass. You were a little mess when you met him.”

You let out a huff at his words, embarrassment making your toes curl. It was true, your mind was muddled when it came to the first half year or so together with Price. You had been wary of every single person, desperately acting out and having to wear a muzzle, slowly getting used to the gentleness and rules of John. How he was fair and didn’t change his rules, didn’t punish you without reason.

You heard the front door open, ears peeking up a little, a small bark leaving you on instinct.

“‘Morning,” Laswell called out, making you settle again with a huff. While Laswell was strict and sometimes a meanie, she wasn’t a threat. Only to you and John’s private time.

“Good morning,” John called out, “I’ve made coffee.”

“Ugh if I wasn’t a lesbian I would marry you,” Kate groaned happily, by now so comfortable with John that she simply moved to take a cup in the cupboard, helping herself to the coffee and some food. They had known each other when younger, that was all you knew. Their stories always changed when you asked.

“Morning puppy,” she greeted, leaning over to give you a small pat that you leaned into, tail wagging once more, “are you going to misbehave again today?”

“Hopefully not,” John hummed, picking up his tea cup once more, “Nikolai is arriving in a couple of hours.”

“Ah, your old crush,” Laswell mused happily as she sat down across the table, once again making you wonder how long they had known each other, “going to pull yourself together this time?”

Wait. Crush… crush? Your head whipped up to look at your owner and oh fucking hell, John fucking Price was blushing. You huffed, clearly not pleased at all with this new knowledge.

Wonderful, wasn’t that just fucking wonderful? Now he was going to abandon you fully, to run around being a lovesick puppy and playing with the new hybrids.

“Don’t tease me,” John answered, clearly embarrassed, a rare sight indeed, “that’s none of your business.”

Kate just laughed. You let out a grumble, trying to snuggle even closer to Price, practically clinging to his leg by now. Price returned his hand to your head, petting you once more, looking down at you. You returned his gaze, doing your best puppy eyes, letting out a little whine. He smiled at you, his other hand scratching you beneath your chin.

“It’s been years,” he mused and you were pretty sure that he wasn’t even talking to you, “he had to return to Russia. His mother passed away.”

Russia? A memory appeared in your mind. A small party. Champagne, treats. Praise from Price’s friends and colleagues, attention and love that you had basked in. Other hybrids that sent you longing and lustful looks. A tall, broad man with a loud laugh and a strong accent. Wearing a gold chain. Long hair, rough hands when he scratched you. He would almost make your owner shy with his teasing but he would shower you in love.

“Did I meet him at a party once?” You asked, “big guy, strong accent ? Wearing a gold chain?”

John laughed, “yes, that would indeed be Nikolai.”

Huh. It was not much you could remember about him. You remembered liking him, but despite that, you weren’t really interested in him getting here.

“He is going to help with Soap, Ghost and Gaz,” John then said, almost as if to convince himself that was why he was here. You rolled your eyes at their names. Not that you had any say, you were usually just called different pet names, but you no longer bore the name your mother had once given you. It wasn’t unusual for pets to get their names changed with every new owner. Your legal hybrid name, with John, was Daisy, even though the man rarely ever called you that. He called you so many other names, Princess, Darling, Sweetheart, Birdie and so on. But apparently he had decided not to change these working dogs’ names.

“Sure,” Kate answered with amusement in her voice, taking another sip of the coffee before adding, “whatever you say.”

Price didn’t answer with anything but an annoyed grumble.

“Those are stupid names,” you muttered. A sharp tug on your ear made you yelp, one of your hands grabbing onto his wrist to get him to let go of your furry ear. 

“Be nice, Princess. You’re going to behave, am I understood?” You didn’t meet his eyes, a little whine merely escaped from you.

“She just needs to be shown her place,” Laswell carefully said, John not letting go of your ear, much to your dismay, but he didn’t tug on it - just kept it there as a warning, “maybe they’re better at that.”

“Hopefully they’ll be better at it than me,” he muttered and you whined - the grip didn’t loosen and he didn’t look down at you.

“Nikolai is going to help with that too?” 

“He had ideas, at least.”

Fucking wonderful.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nikolai was the first of the four men that you already hated, to arrive. 

You stayed inside the house, watching John appear from one of the stables, almost lighting up at the sight of the man who exited the car.

He still looked like the old memory you had of him; big, long black hair and a grin on his face. He was taller than John but not by much, Almost seeming completely opposite to your owner. While John wore working clothes, a grey T-shirt beneath his blue flannel, dirt on his pants, Nikolai was wearing a pair of blue jeans, white T-shirt and leather jacket.

Even inside the house, you could hear the booming man that was Nikolai - he greeted your owner with a loud “John!”, before hugging him, even spinning him around. You couldn’t help but stare; John was far from small but the other man had swung him around like he had been a teenage girl. 

John was blushing like one too. The sight made you curious - just like you wondered how he and Kate met, you wondered how this Nikolai met your owner.

You couldn’t help but wag your tail at how happy they looked. Despite how you hated the idea of the man staying here, even just for a little while, you liked seeing John happy like this.

Then two pairs of eyes suddenly looked directly into the window, both staring at you. It made your ears tip back a little. Your tail kept wagging, eating up the attention. 

When they moved, you moved too - rushing towards the entrance, stopping in the doorframe to the living room. 

“My my, if it isn’t the famous puppy,” Nikolai mused, his Russian accent strong, eyes almost twinkling as he looked you up and down, “up to trouble, da?”

You huffed, crossing your arms, though you felt your tail betray you by wagging a little, “I’m never up to trouble.”

Both of the men laughed, making you growl a little. 

“Unruly - just like last time I met you!” Nikolai mused, looking over at John by his side, “you gave up on training?”

John shook his head, “don’t even get me started, mate.”

“You told enough over phone,” Nikolai answered, waving his hand at John while pushing his shoes off with his feet.

Ah. So he had talked about you with Nikolai already? The fact made you scrunch your nose a little. Maybe Nikolai was just as stupid as John when it came to realizing why you were upset.

Nikolai stepped into your personal sphere with no warning, almost backing you up against the door frame, making you panic and growl a little. Tail no longer wagging - you could see John tense up in the corner of your eye, but you were too distracted by the stranger.

“Nik—“

A part of you expected him to hit you - you had met plenty of strangers with your former owners, who didn’t even let you sniff their hand or anything. Some hurting you and —

He offered his hand. It didn’t hit you, but raised to your nose instead. You squinted at him, before taking a couple of sniffs, still not quite sure what to make of him.

“Don’t like you,” you growled in warning, showing your teeth a little, not even attempting to be polite. 

“You don’t like farm life yet, puppy?” He asked, tipping his head to the side, voice demeaning, stupid smile still on his face. You wanted to slap it off his face. “Stupid little puppy.”

Instead you chomped down on his hand, Price instantly scolding out your name, moving to drag you away. But Nikolai didn��t even flinch - didn't move besides laughing again. 

It made both you and John confused.

“If you want to hurt me, you would have to bite harder, Princess,” Nikolai crooned, “now let go.”

You wanted to piss in his shoes and rip his socks to pieces. Maybe scratch up that leather jacket of his. Yet you found yourself letting go of him, your teeth barely even having made a dent in his skin.

“Get your ass into your room,” John hissed, a redness in his skin that you weren’t sure came from embarrassment or anger from your action.

“No harm done, John,” Nikolai laughed; he scratched you behind your right ear, just a tad to the left and it was like your brain melted for a couple of seconds, your body reacted on its own, tail wagging and right leg moving as well, “she just attempt to be dangerous no?”

John let out a small sound that you weren’t sure  what to make of before he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you away from Nikolai, “and that’s the kind of behaviour I don’t want.”

“He was being mean,” you whined in self defense, unable to not follow the hand dragging you into the living room, “he almost dared me to!”

Perhaps an overstatement, but you already knew what was going to happen the moment that Price pushed you over the armrest of the couch, “I bit him to defend myself!”

“You will not, and I repeat myself, not bite my guests,” he pulled up your skirt and down your panties with such a quick movement that you didn’t get to point out that you didn’t care, one hand grabbing your tail; his other hand collided with your ass cheeks, once, twice and then a third time, before he snapped out, “got it?”

A defiant bark left you, because while you knew it was bad behavior, you also wanted to prove that you weren’t afraid of this Nikolai. You twisted a little, knowing your ass and pussy was basically on display for both men. 

The grip on your tail tightened making you cringe with pain, jaw tensing.

“Apologise.”

You shook your head in defiance, ears hitting your face. Price leant over you a little, hissing out, “I would advise you to apologize, princess. Now.”

A part of you knew he was upset because he liked Nikolai. If he actually had feelings for him, as Kate had pointed out and several things pointed towards, you knew he wouldn’t like being embarrassed too much. Your ass still stung a little.

You were the actual victim here, weren’t you? It wasn’t your fault he decided to change everything you loved and then accept that he had his lost love over, who immediately tried to push your buttons.

“‘m sorry,” you mumbled after two seconds.

“Louder.” John demanded, straightening up, so that you were no longer hidden.

"I'm sorry."

There was silence for a moment - then the sound of a lighter and as you dared to glance over at the bigger man, who was leaning against the door frame, you saw him staring right back at you, a lit cigarette now between his lips.

“Is okay, Lapochka.” He said, stupid smile still on his face.

With that John finally let go off your tail, pulling up your underwear and your skirt down, ignoring your whine. He didn’t even touch your pussy! Didn’t even give you some love!

You pouted as you looked over at them, sliding down from the armrest of the couch, hands going beneath your skirt to rest against your warm skin on your cheeks.

“Sorry Nik,” John once again apologized - as if it was him who John had just spanked! The audacity! You let out a little displeased bark.

“She usually doesn’t bite people,” he continued as he ushered Nikolai as if you weren’t right there, needing love and attention.

“Is okay,” Nikolai answered with a shrug, casting one last glance over at you, smirking for just a second, “some of it was my fault - wanted to see what she would do.”

Asshole.

“Room, princess - now.”

“But he literally ju—“

“I said now.”

“You’re being so fucking mea—“

“Crate then.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” You might have slammed the door to your room, growling as you plopped down on your big fuzzy dog bed. 

It was about 30 minutes later than you dared to wander from the room to the kitchen again, standing in the doorway, watching the two men talk. Eyes moved to watch you again, as you whined and got on your knees. crawling to the two men, shamefully settling between Price’s legs on your knees - tail carefully wagging, sending your owner a pitiful glance.

“‘m sorry,” you whimpered, knowing John was easy to sweeten up, “‘m sorry, sir.”

A hand moved down to scratch you, though it wasn’t John’s-  you carefully licked his hand, a pleased rumble leaving the guest.

“Smart one,” he muttered, giving your cheek a little pinch, “knows how to be sweet, da?”

“Always,” John answered, looking down at you with his usual loving eyes, “soft lass is hard  to stay mad at.”

“Perhaps you need some more company,” Nikolai pointed out, “I worked with military pets before, they’re much different than you, milaya.”

“We don’t need them,” you whined, having no idea what Nikolai had just called you, “John will forget about me, will be too busy, he –”

John’s foot ever so gently pushed against your stomach, “don’t start that again.”

“Just insecure,” Nikolai suggested, making you huff.

“Am not,” you argued, but you still nuzzled closer to John, starting to move your hands to his inner thighs, moving to look up the best you could, looking from under the edge of the table, sweetening your voice a little, “It’s just a mistake, that’s all.”

“Spoiled, that’s what you are, darling,” John pointed out, but he still reached out to gently pat your head, “however, the boys will be here in a couple of hours and there is nothing you can do about it.”

You whined pitifully at his words, upset that your clear dissatisfaction with them joining the farm wasn’t clear. It was like John didn’t want to realize at all that he didn’t need to stay out on this farm. He needed to go back to the city, to the fancy penthouse apartment, to the parties that lasted out to the late hours of the night, where you could gossip with all the other hybrids.

“Milaya,” Nikolai repeated again, rustling with something in his jacket that hung over the back of the chair he was currently sitting on, pulling a little package from it. You watched curiously, though trying to seem disinterested. That was until he opened it and the most wonderful, mouthwatering scent you had smelled in a while appeared and you instantly moved from between John’s legs to Nikolai’s, making your owner chuckle.

The piece of jerky looking meat that Nikolai held in between his thumb and pointer finger, looked simple but oh the smell of it made it known that it was good.

“You behave and let us look through papers now, da?” 

“Yes,” you said, unable to look away or stop your tail from wagging, “I’ll behave.” 

The moment Nikolai offered you the piece, you were on it, barely missing his fingers with your teeth as you stole it from his grip. Nikolai was chuckling, putting the bag back into his jacket, while you chewed, a pleased moan leaving you as you settled beneath the table. 

Hopefully these mutts would prove themselves too difficult - so that John would send them away again. You would happily wave goodbye to them. 

With the sweet aftertaste of the meat in your mouth and their soft voices discussing fences, you closed your eyes.

You weren’t going to help with the pack settling in - that was for sure.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You barely got used to your owner’s crush, before there were once again new things happening. Kate appeared, greeting Nikolai like an old friend as well. You hadn’t figured out much about the man, other than he had worked with a lot of hybrids throughout the years. And with helicopters. However that all fit together, you didn’t know… didn’t really care.

The big truck that arrived a couple of hours later, stood out against the farm houses; a colorful logo was painted on the otherwise steel gray vehicle.

THE HYBRID’S DEN! helping owners find their perfect hybrid pet since 1960!

You remembered seeing their logos everywhere when you were sold to the auction, years ago. The auction houses and facilities had often felt like an intermission from your former life to your new; never knowing what was going to happen, treated with the minimal care, but kept healthy enough for the auctions. 

The staff wore the colorful logo on their black uniforms, exciting the truck a few moments later. You almost wanted to tell them to ‘get the fuck back into that truck and drive off’ again, but you figured it wouldn’t result in them actually doing so.

You kept your distance, standing on the steps of the front door - strategically keeping Nikolai between you and the closed metal crates that were inside the truck. There were nothing more than a few air holes in the boxes, from where some different sounds appeared. Barks and a growl or two, though they all sounded a little slurred. Nikolai moved, giving you a better look at them, as he joined John who was nodding along to some of the information, while looking through and signing some papers. Though you were mostly distracted by the crates, you could hear some of their conversation, catching words like sedated, muzzles, stressed. Your own trip hadn’t been nice either but a part of you wanted to point out to your owner that this only proved your point of this being a bad idea.

Some of the auction workers helped move the crates to one of the bigger empty sheds that Price had apparently been renovating without your knowledge. So apparently not so empty any longer. Not that it had been hard to do that, you ignored most of the different renovating and building jobs that both John and the helpers did.

Still… he could have told you. God, did your master tell you nothing anymore? It didn’t really help your mood, your growing annoyance clearly amusing for Nikolai if his smiles back at you were anything to go by.

Despite your repeated frustration with this entire situation and these new hybrids’ mere existence, you followed along inside the shed. It was nice… Isolated, with a tiny bathroom, an area padded with mattresses, which was clearly for them to sleep together, pillows, blankets… you wanted that too. Sure, you had loads, but this only made you want more, want more from Price, so that he could prove he still loved you. 

There was a radiator, several windows, lamps and electricity outlets. You scrunch your nose with displeasure. They didn’t deserve that. At least they weren’t inside the main house. 

There was a little notch in the other corner opposite the bed area, almost like a tiny expansion, another door next to it; it was almost like a small horse stall - a deep layer of hay covered the floor. You didn’t even step into the place, but you knew the hay would itch.

You wanted it. Not the itching of the hay, but the entire place, simply for the sake of having it, so that they couldn’t. Speaking of them, you watched from the main entrance as the metal boxes were opened.

The Belgian malinois and German Shepherd mix was the first one to stumble out of the box; he fell two steps later, directly into the hay, a deep sigh leaving him, eyes darting around. You could barely see him from the amount of people inside the stall. 

“It’s alright, Gaz,” Price comforted, while you stayed in the door, keeping his distance to the hybrid, “You’re okay, boy.”

Gaz didn’t answer, just panted a little, ears tipped backwards - his eyes looked a little blown from what you could see.

“When will the sedatives wear off?” Laswell asked one of the workers, but you didn’t look at them, eyes instead at the other hybrid. 

When you had arrived, you had been scared and angry, drugged as well. But you had been alone. While you grew up with your parents, in a nice enough place, you hadn’t seen them for years - and while you had befriended a lot of other hybrids throughout the years, you had never been a part of a “pack”. You were alone — but this Gaz wasn’t and a part of you envied him, even for that.

“In an hour or two,” the worker replied, pulling you from your deeper thoughts, “they weren’t too happy to settle down before we left. It was necessary.”

A small bark left the man in the hay. It was answered by the two other hybrids, who still hadn’t come out of their respective boxes. Nikolai gently tapped on the top of one of the boxes with a knuckle.

“Come join your friend,” the Russian suggested, voice not as loud as earlier.

A moment later the border collie mix, Soap, crawled out of his box, eyes instantly on Gaz, letting himself lay halfway on top of the other. A little growl leaving him, muffled from behind the mask. Not even a second later, Ghost got out of the last crate. The Great Pyrenees almost got on his legs, growling despite the muzzle and swaying from the drugs.

You watched the staff pull back the metal boxes, letting the hybrids get some space. Ghost didn’t stay on his legs for too long, eventually sitting down next to his pack mates, the lower half of his face hidden from view as he looked around the shed.

His gaze stopped at you; you were unable to sense the reaction from seeing you again, if there even was any.

“We’ll let you have some minutes, okay? Then we’ll take the muzzles off.” John gently offered, pulling the giant from the moment, so that he looked away, giving Price a small nod. Your owner was at the edge of the hay filled area but he didn’t step into it.

You stepped back, letting the staff members from the auction pull away the boxes, Laswell and another farm worker helping them. Nikolai looked from the pack, then over his shoulder at you, barely even trying to hide a smile.

Then he winked. You sent him an unimpressed look back, tipping your chin up a little, looking away from the three hybrids in the hay, pretending you weren’t curious about them.

Some more rustling in the hay and then a half croaked, “mah held hurts,” left Soap, voice a little slurred - you couldn’t help but look over at him. His accent was weird. His ears were tipped down, some hay already stuck in his hair. With the pathetic look on his face you didn’t understand how he was supposed to be a big bad soldier.

You weren’t being petty at all.

“It’s the sedatives,” John calmly answered the hybrid, who let out a big breath from behind the muzzle.

“If I take the muzzle off, will you behave?”

“We have water for you,” Nikolai added, keeping his distance - you kept him in between you and the dogs, not risking anything. You trusted the men to be able to defend themselves. But with no claws or fangs, you weren’t a fighter - more a runner. Even if you didn’t like running.

The two muzzled ones, Soap and Ghost, sent each other a look - but it was Gaz, half hidden beneath Soap, who let out a tired “please.”

Ghost gave a small nod then. John stepped into the hay, unhurried as to not spook them, and it was Ghost who tipped his head down first to let Price open the lock with a small key. The moment he was free, he smacked his cracked and dry looking lips. 

Clearly, the man had never heard of chapstick.

Though, much more apparent, where the colony of scars on his lower half of the face. Trailing from around the lips, one over the nose as well - cheeks and chin. As he smacked his lips, you saw he had lost a fang in the bottom of his mouth. It wasn’t just sanded down like yours, the tooth was fully missing.

Price repeated the action with Soap, the hybrid instantly opening his mouth wide with a yawn, his jaw even making a popping wound.

Nikolai appeared with three bottles of water from a little cooler in the shed - you didn’t have your own cooler, which meant you would be demanding one… not that you needed it but still — giving the hybrids each one, that was always immediately opened. Gaz pushed Soap away and sat up too, while John backed away.

“My name is John Price -we met shortly at the auction. I’m the owner of the farm and you will all answer to me. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” For a moment you were impressed with the three hybrids’ synchronized answers. Only a short moment however. They were probably just beasts trained to answer like that. Yeah, yeah, you could do that too, if you wanted. But you didn’t.

“This is Nikolai, my friend, he will stay with me for a while, helping you all to settle in properly. You will follow his orders too - as well as a mean looking woman, Kate Laswell, who will appear at some point.” Humour tipped into the last part making Soap snort and Gaz give out a half-slurred giggle, while Ghost just let out a grunt.

“And this,” Price suddenly turned over to you, looking a little amused from the distance you kept between all of them, “is my pet, Daisy.” 

“Well hellooo, bonnie lass,” Soap said, his tail immediately wagging, grinning at you, as he slurred, “aren’t ye a sight for sore eyes.”

Nikolai and John dared to laugh at his words, his rather pathetic attempt at being charming, while you growled, watching Soap get an elbow in the side from Gaz, while Simon just stared, almost differently than the scot, like a hungry beast. If you were fully inside the shed, you might be able to smell if they were turned on. Disgusting. 

“Come’ere, sweetheart,” John crooned, clearly pleased with the reactions from the men, while you scrunch your nose, tipping your chin up a little - giving it a shake to reject the command.

“Do not be like that, milaya,” Nikolai suggested, “thought you were going to behave, no?”

You just growled a little again, unable to help your tail go between your legs a little; you didn’t really want to be spanked again, but you didn’t really want to become acquainted with these hybrids either.

“My princess isn’t too pleased with you lot being here,” John calmly explained without taking his eyes off you - they were still all staring at you - as John raised a hand, making a ‘come-hither’ motion that had you swallowing some spit, “but she isn’t going to chase away any wolves, are ye, pet?”

You huffed, crossing your arms before stepping inside the shed. The scent in there was nice and clean, even with the vague scent of the newcomers, and you walked to John, stopping halfway hidden by him.

However, as John’s arm snaked around your soft waist in a strong grip, you whimpered as you were pulled forward a little, unable to hide behind him. Both Gaz and Soap were wagging their tails at you, while you tried ignoring the scent of the room the best you can.

“I’m expecting you all to get along - and not hurt each other too badly, understood?”

While the others answered in agreement you just hid your face in his shoulder, twisting a little in his grip.

“No playin’ too rough,” Nikolai added, “Puppy isn’t used to other hybrids.”

“I am!” you snapped, “Just not…”

The shed was quiet for a moment as you mulled over your next words. What to call them. Military dogs. Strays. Mutts, un –

“Not what?” Nikolai almost seemed entertained by your declaration and you looked away, before finally mumbling.

“... working dogs.”

Simon huffed. You shot him a sharp look that he didn’t really seem to be affected by, in any way.

“I’m sure you all will get along,” John just mused, before looking down at his watch, “A certain princess has become too bored now we’re no longer in the city -” he ignored your mutter of ‘have not’, “- and I can’t entertain her all the time. Mentally or sexually.” 

You whined with embarrassment, a little angry growl seeping into it, but Price didn’t really react, barely moved as you twisted in his grip, ignoring the grin of the several males in the house. 

“ - Now, I will leave you three to get acclimated a little. But, there are a couple of rules that I expect you all to follow, if not there will be punishments.”

Synchronized nods. You still twisted, digging your fingers into his arm to no avail - then a hand snagged onto your collar from behind, choking you shortly as you were pulled back, Nikolai pressing against your back. Now free, Price pointed to a little map over the area, that you hadn’t noticed on the wall.

“Your jobs will essentially be to help keep the place safe. We have had problems with wolves and foxes, and so has the neighbors, since there lives a bunch in the area. You three will help keeping them away and Soap will help around my sheeps and goats in particular, given you’re a herding dog–”

Soap nodded, tail wagging, all three dogs staring at the map intensely.

“- I will find other things for the two of you to help with as well, but your main focus will be on keeping the animals - and the rest of us - safe. One of the neighbors got some horses stolen not too long ago. I would like to avoid that as well.”

You didn’t even know that. What you did know, however, was the heat of Nikolai’s body behind you, keeping you close and tethered so that you couldn’t run off.

“Most of the wildlife will go away if intimidated, but at times you might need to attack them. I am not going to give you any firearms yet though,” John looked over at them, his voice  firmer than you usually heard it, “That will come along the way, if needed. We can discuss other weapons later on.”

The mere idea of John giving them any kinds of weapon made you want to throw up - or throw a fit. Had he gone fuckin’ mad?? giving them guns? They were going to shoot everyone, going to kill John and you. You really didn’t want to die.

“My farm includes these - and these fields. You will not and I repeat not, leave my land without a valid reason. There will be punishments if you do - you will all be given collars like another certain puppy–” all eyes watched you for a moment and though, you wanted to hide  your face in your hands, you didn’t, merely crossed your arms, ignoring the low laughter from Nikolai behind you, “that are fitted with trackers, so I will know if you do.”

Great. So hoping for them to run off wasn’t a possibility for now.

“Biting or attacking my staff in any way will result in severe punishments. You will lose privileges if you don’t do as told, without a valid reason. Is that understood?”

“Yessir.” 

“Good boys. Now, these upcoming days you will most likely be following me or Laswell around, while we get you in on all these. All dinners will be eaten in the main house and you will be given keys once I get them made one of these upcoming days. I will give you a couple of hours now –” Price looked down at his wrist watch, “Then call you in, an hour or two before dinner, so that you all can shower. Any injuries, allergies or anything that the Hybrids’ Den didn’t write down, that I need to know?”

They all shook their heads, behaving like synchronized swimmers in your opinion. 

“Good. You’re all free to relax here or explore the farm if you wish so, when the drugs wear off.” 

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

As you entered the farm house, you shrugged off your jacket and abandoned your shoes in the entrance, not caring to clean up after you, ignoring John’s irked huff.

“Insane!” you declared, walking further into the house, “You’ve gone insane! You’re all going to forget about me and those horny knotted mutts will be all up in my business!”

You flopped down on the couch, face first, continuing your ranting into the fabric.

“I might as well barricade myself inside my room - Because I dont have a tiny house!! but guns! SURE ! give them guns!” Your voice was muffled, but you were, perhaps a tad dramatically, loud in your ranting. You could just make out whispering between the two men but you didn’t care… not until you were forced to, quite literally.

“Little puppy,” Nikolai’s accent was heavy - his body even heavier as he settled on the back of your thighs, a fist coming to rest next to your head, that kept his full body weight from you, “Throwing a fit again, da?” 

You could feel the slight bulge against your fat ass, making you swallow - and tail wag, hitting Nikolai against the thighs, making the man chuckle. John as well, who settled down with a cigar in one of the arm chairs opposite the couch. You didn’t even need to look to know that he watched as Nikolai tugged at your skirt.

[frogchiro]

What type of hybrid would Roach be if you written him? 🤔

If he was a dog... and if you seen that part where he outran men and bullets, and me looking up dog breeds... I'd say either a Dalmatian or maybe an Irish wolf hound?

Those things are HUGE so I understand if you don't see him like that– o-o

Or maybe a bernease mountain dog??

I think I saw somwwhere that Roach is actually huge?? Like 6'2 (188cm) but please don't take this as granted😭

But I actually see him as a dalmatian hybrid!! I have a deep love for Dalmatian and I love Roach very much too so it would fit ;;

Apparently they are very friendly and energetic so it would be good for guard dog!Johnny to have Roach as a playmate to burn off that excess energy since Ghost is often too busy or tells the boys to 'fuck off and bother someone else', and they are often a bit too much for Kitty!Reader whom they love to chase and herd much to her displeasure, not to mention that they usually try to mount her too even though she's tired out :((

But Roach uses those huge puppy eyes on you and whines quietly to get back in you good graces and if he begs prettily enough you may even let him snuggle with you or sneak a little hump on your plush ass while Johnny whines bc he was locked out :(

[wraithdance]

Good Boy [Part 2/?]

CW: Mentions of canon childhood trauma & abuse, ptsd depictions, awkwardness, Afab!Reader, I’m a dirty liar there will be more parts of this so enjoy the calm before the storm or whatever. This is apart of the Stray Dogs series

Simon is put on leave.

He’d received a nasty hairline break in his wrist after a fall out of a moving car during a recent op. (He’d been pushed out really but semantics didn't matter in the end because he'd gutted the man that had done it.) Price had nearly come to blows with him when he threatened the medic who signed off on his medical leave. Simon had been escorted off the property with strict orders to not return until he was cleared.

The cast is uncomfortable, the sensation of his bare fingers out while in public sends the talons of anxiety coursing through his body. So, he stays in his bare flat. The silence is loud and suffocating, not even the occasional echoes of his neighbors or the drone of a forgotten Manchester United game helps against the heavy weight of isolation.

After a week he’s spiraling in the dark of his own home. Stray lights bounce off the walls from between the cracks of his blinds, sending him into wide eyed paranoia. He had begun seeing things that weren’t there. Shadows moving to embrace him like a burial shroud, movement from the corner of his eyes. Nothing there when he points his pistol at the corners. He can’t sleep for long before the sound of the dull thunk of dirt on a coffin locks his body into paralysis.

When Johnny calls to check in Simon’s teeth are chattering uncontrollably from the chills that wrack his body. He manages to get through the call by grunting and humming when necessary. Johnny takes it as Simon still being upset about the forced medical leave.

‘No good to anyone wit’ yer hand like that LT.’ MacTavish says with sympathy. Simon is silent on the other end of the line.

No good to anyone without a gun in his hand because a dog that can’t be sicced, is not a dog.

He hangs up the phone when Johnny jokes that he thought Simon was invincible, an immortal surpassing the fragility of man.

“Fuck.”

Simon's eyes meet the business card in the mirror as he wipes sick from his mouth. It takes him more than once for his fingers to unclench at his will. The indents from his nails sting as blood rushes back to the digits. He stares at the card for too long before he brushes past the string of texts from Johnny and dials your number.

One ring, two and a third. He hangs up when the call connects. You’re calling back seconds later, he lets it go to voicemail. He’s watching his own eyes dilate in the mirror when you call again.

This time he picks up.

You’re silent and he listens to your breathing. There's a shuffle and he thinks he can make out the sounds of sheets shifting.

“Um? Hi… is this the guy from the pub?”

Simon grunts. “Don't give out your number a lot?”

You laugh despite his flat tone. “Nah, I don’t have anyone who calls me. Just my mum and dad really.” You’re hesitant, he can feel it through the phone like a tangible thing.

“Wasn’ gonna call.”

This makes you laugh again, he realizes you laugh a lot at things that weren’t funny.

“I figured you weren’t after the first week. I’m glad you did though, I still meant what I said.”

There's another lapse in silence before you must realize he won’t assist in driving the conversation.

“Listen, let me show you what I’m working on okay? I’m going to send you an address to a coffee shop and you can show up when you want. I won’t hound you if you don’t.”

“Didn’t give me a time.”

“Oh Yeah! I dog walk in the mornings before the shop opens. I’m there pretty much everyday stealing the free wifi and working on my manuscript, so you can show up anytime and I’ll probably be there.” You laugh again in self deprecation.

His fingers twitch around the phone. Simon thinks you’re too free with your joy. There's a part of him that wants to pluck the mirth from your throat and pocket it inside his own chest for warmth.

He doesn’t promise you anything but you still thank him profusely when he gruffly tells you he’s hanging up.

Your soft good night rings inside his ears for the rest of the evening, it’s louder than the endless quiet or the memories of being buried alive. In the morning when he wakes he squints at the bright light of his phone, clicking on the text thread of your unsaved number. An address and a reminder of your name followed by a smiling emoji.

You’re the fourth contact he saves to his phone.

He shows up after two days. He’d looked at your text for the umpteenth time and pocketed his keys into his jacket, commuting to the building on autopilot. It’s more of an outdoor food court that serves coffee than the coffee shop you described. Simon makes eye contact with you from the entrance of the outdoor patio. Your smile is dampened like you're afraid of scaring him off with your excitement. He’s nearly to the bench you sit on when you suddenly shoot up and throw your hands out to stop him.

“Wait!”

He stops in his tracks. The space in his mind where Ghost exists takes over him like a thick fog as he searches for a threat. His good hand spasms against the fabric of his jeans-covered thigh.

You must realize your error because you grimace.

“I’m so sorry I have a client's dog with me. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t scared or allergic before you saw him.”

Simon is taken aback. His knee jerk instinct is to lash out, ask you if you were an idiot or something else needlessly vitriolic, but he can’t bring himself to with the genuine worry you emote.

The fact that you were concerned enough to check in is an oddity. He’s unfamiliar with being on the other side of care from a woman that wasn’t related to him by marriage or water of the womb. It guts him how easily he wants to lean into it, desperate for the small connection not severed by death.

“Not ‘fraid of dogs,” He rolls his shoulders back, eyes taking in everything but your smile. “I don’ drink coffee either.”

That makes you laugh loudly, you smack a hand over your mouth to cover the giggles that escape. Simon stares down the flickering dance of your irises. You’re unbothered by his leering and instead offer him another grin.

“O-kay! Just let me introduce you to him and I’ll grab you whatever you want okay?” You’re moving before he can say anything.

Despite his objection to being afraid, he still braces himself to be met with a four legged behemoth. The long forgotten dog bite on his right calf sings with phantom pain like he’d received it yesterday and not twenty years ago. His father had let his drunken friends dangle Simon in front of his illegal Japanese Tosa. An eight year old Simon had kicked out in fear and had been mauled by the dog in return. Simon’s mother had sobbed inconsolably at the sight of the deep wounds.

You turn around after a moment of shuffling and he can’t help but to blurt, “Wot the steaming hell is that?”

You’re pouting and holding your free hand over the ear of the pint sized rodent trembling in your embrace. The small elderly chihuahua looked ready to leap from your arms in pursuit of the sweet relief of death.

“This is Sprinkles, he’s my neighbor's dog! Mr. Allens is in the hospital for a bit so I’ll just be taking care of Sprinkles for a few days in the meantime. Do you wanna say hello?”

He grunts, giving you a side eye as you inch closer, “Rather not.”

You huff turning to the mangy mutt with a sad smile. “It’s okay, he just doesn’t understand you like I do.” You tell Simon to sit down while you grab some tea. He’s thankful that you bring Sprinkles with you, uncomfortable with the imagery of the dog meeting its much needed end on his watch.

When you return you hand him his steaming cup of Earl Grey tea and launch into your pitch. Simon makes no plans to drink the beverage instead tapping the digits not in the cast on the paper cup. Sprinkles sits in your lap trembling in his tiny sweater.

Fockin’ hell.

Simon interrupts you mid sentence.

“You want me to pose for a bloody romance?”

You blink “Yep, that is what I’m writing so essentially that's the idea.”

Simon cuts you a look not liking the sass but you return it with a cheeky grin. “I know it's unconventional but when I saw you in the pub I couldn’t help but think you looked like a character of mine. I had to see if you’d be willing to model for me.”

“‘Haven’t even seen my face.” He huffs in disbelief.

Cocking your head you look at him in consideration, taking in the black balaclava and stroking Sprinkles as you do. “Yeah, I figured you were sensitive about it since you’re covered from head to toe. Technically you wouldn’t need to take anything off. I was more so interested in capturing your overall aura.”

Simon doesn’t say anything for a while. Just watches you with narrow eyes. You’re mid sip when he asks you to read the manuscript for himself.

“Ack!”

He’s mildly impressed that you manage not to sputter tea all over the dog. Your eyes burn with tears from the effort to not choke to death. “W-why would you want to read it?!” you’re squeaking with wide eyes.

He gives a half shrug, warmth pattering at his chest. “‘Didn’ hear you say anything about payment so thought I might see what’s the fuss. Got a reputation and all so I can’t just agree to anything.”

The look you give him is unimpressed. “Are you being funny? I can’t really tell and I’d rather you just say no rather than tease me.”

He leans back, raising his arm to rest near you on the top of the bench. You glance at the closeness of his gloved hand but he ignores the pointed look.

“Serious as a heart attack. I wanna read it before I give you an answer.”

There's a moment where he thinks you’ll say no, he’s expecting it, but you set your shoulders back and tip your chin up at him. “Fine. You can read it, I don’t mind whatsoever.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” you pop the ‘p’ in the word. “Absolutely fine with it. I encourage it actually, fair is fair and all.”

He snorts out a dark chuckle. “Right.”

You ask for his email address and Simon gives you an encrypted email containing a string of numbers. You make a joke about him secretly being a spy that he doesn’t laugh at. It doesn’t bother you any, you continue chuckling to yourself as you press send.

Simon watches you pause in hesitation as you gather the half dead dog and your belongings. You’re chewing on your bottom lip in thought stroking Sprinkles whose eyes are half lidded in your arms.

“Wot?” He asks gruffly, startling you.

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly. “I was just wondering… can I sign your cast?”

Simon’s eye twitches.

“Why would you wanna do that?”

At his tone you squint your eyes at him. “Because that’s what friends do?”

Simon wants to say something snarky around the lump in his throat. Condemn you for assuming they were friends after meeting only once prior. The urge fizzles out when you give him a startled expression.

“Has no one ever signed your cast before?”

No.

He’d broken many bones in his life starting from the age of childhood. Tommy had tried to sign his leg cast once when they were teenagers, he’d earned a broken nose from their father before he’d been able to finish scrawling out the second ‘m’ in his name. He’d never been close enough to anyone else to be asked.

In his reverie you’ve rifled through the tote back at your arm, shifting sprinkles on your hip. You procure a sharpie and hold it up like a trophy.

You approach him cautiously waiting for his objection.

When you’re standing toe to toe with his army grade boots you flick your eyes to the cast and his covered face. “So… Can I sign?”

Simon shifts on the bench, neck tensed. After several beats he looks away and lets out a gruff ‘fine.’ You don’t give him a chance to change his mind.

When you’re finished you pop up with a satisfied smile, slipping the cap on to the marker. “There, all done!”

Simon says nothing. He lumbers to a stand that causes you to stumble back. He watches your flickering eyes and the waver of your smile.

“Okayyyy… I have to get this one home now so just let me know when you want to meet?”

You wave enthusiastically at him and walk away. You only get a few feet before you stop and turn around. Simon watched as you take Sprinkles or in hand and wave it as well. “Say bye to Sprinkles!”

He cuts his eyes at you. “I’m not sayin’ goodbye to the bloody dog.”

You pout and shrug, whispering something to the dog as you go. Simon stands in place for several minutes watching you retreat.

Bloody Hell.

At home on his couch he pops open a can of ale with one hand taking a long gulps. Simon opens the email attachment you sent him, momentarily distracted by your blocky letters on his cast and the lopsided smiley face drawn in sharpie. He squints at the pages before him in his lap trying to make sense of what he was reading.

His eyebrows twitch when he reaches fifty pages in and realizes you’d sent him written porn.

“Wot the bloody hell.”

[starlightvld]

Bait & Switch, pt. 2

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 >>

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, implied soapghost cw: angst, hurt no comfort (yet), MWIII spoilers

---

When Johnny died, a black hole swallowed Ghost whole, bones and blood crushed into numbness by an all-encompassing gravity. Work, duty, life went on, but even spreading Johnny's ashes in Scotland — a place they'd talked about visiting together during those rare moments when exhaustion-induced delirium held the cold voice of reason at bay — even that couldn't counter the gravity holding him suspended in a single moment, knees crashing into blood-soaked concrete and a choked voice calling out to a man who would never answer.

The longer they chase Makarov through his little puppet show, though, the more the numbness gives way to other feelings — pain, despair, rage — that grow more potent every day they fail to bring the bastard to justice.

They've searched for years, yet they're always two steps behind. 

And this bloodbath of an op is no different.

If he has to focus his rage on someone other than Makarov, though, he's glad it's Makarov's dog, dubbed Agent Zero by the task force generals, stalking his team's steps today. The demon appeared six months after their failure in the Channel Tunnel and has hounded the 141 ever since, denying them victories, decimating their support squads, and nearly killing each of the core members at least once. 

Zero seems to have it out for Ghost in particular, though. The agent has put him on medical leave more than a dozen times already, and today will be no different.

If he can escape with his life, that is.

Ghost controls his breathing and prepares for the coming fight the best he can with a bullet hole in his side. He's not bleeding out, so he'll take that as a win, even if the blood loss is making him woozy. Sunlight blazes down on him as he stands in the middle of the open area between warehouses and waits for Zero to catch up.

As if summoned, Zero stalks out from behind a building, thick body hidden behind layers of black tactical gear and a full helmet. Based on their build and the muffled growls he's heard in past confrontations, Ghost guesses Makarov's agent is a man, but the tinted glass of their helmet makes it impossible to know for sure.

It doesn't matter, though. Whoever they are, they have to die. The 141 will never catch Makarov while his dog is nipping at their heels.

The agent weaves through the detritus of dead Konni and SAS soldiers while scanning the area. Ghost has already ordered the remaining SAS support units to fall back, and all the Konni soldiers are dead, the last one lying at Ghost's feet, eyes staring unseeing at the blue sky.

It's just the two of them now.

Despite the sun's heat, a chill pebbles Ghost's skin. This will likely be the end for one of them. He hopes it's Zero, if only for his team's sake.

Ghost himself has nothing left to lose.

The pavement radiates the afternoon sunlight, the air blurred with shimmering waves. Sweat soaks into Ghost's mask and runs in rivulets down his back.

Zero's helmet turns his way.

The agent freezes for a split second... before breaking into a dead run, headed straight toward Ghost.

Feet pound on the pavement in time with Ghost's quickening heartbeat. And just like every other time they've clashed, a sinuous familiarity in the way Zero moves wraps around Ghost's senses, more an innate recognition of form than the identification of any specific action. He ponders the sensation as Zero barrels down on him, all terrifying focus and yet easy grace. If the agent weren't his sworn enemy, he thinks he could find beauty in those movements.

He waits until the last minute to dodge, using his own speed and Zero's momentum to push the agent away. Zero is expecting the move, however, and swings around to land a hard punch to Ghost's throat. Ghost twists, the blow glancing off his tac vest instead. They round on each other and dive in again. 

Attack. Deflect. Block.

So it goes for what seems like eternity, trading blows over blood-slick stones. And still, the movements haunt Ghost with that winding thread of familiarity.

A phantom ache builds in his chest, though he doesn't know why.

He dodges a fist to his injured side, and Zero pauses for a split second, helmet tipping down. Ghost uses the distraction to attempt a headlock but wheezes when an armored fist collides with his injury. In a haze of pain, Ghost grips Zero's neck harder, kicks the agent's feet out from under them, and slams them face-first into the ground. A crunching sound rings in Ghost's ears, and tempered glass fragments spill over the pavement.

The impact doesn't keep the devil down, though. Zero shoves Ghost away, using the momentum to scramble out of reach. Ghost lands on his back with a huff, the sharp pain in his side nearly blinding him.

He's getting too fucking old for this. 

Maybe tonight will prove it.

He lifts himself up on one elbow to get eyes on Zero, a little confused that he's not already fending off another attack. But... his enemy is standing stock still a few feet away.

More importantly, the broken visor leaves the helmet wide open to the sunny day, giving Ghost his first, full view of the person who's been terrorizing them for years.

A broken sound of confusion wheezes through Ghost's tight throat.

From inside the broken helmet, blue eyes flick down to meet his gaze — the exact same shade of blue that's haunted his dreams since the day he lost everything.

Or so he thought.

It can't be.

It can't.

And yet—

"Johnny?"

The name rips from his throat like a desperate prayer, mangled by panting breaths of overexertion. The man's glassy eyes go wide and... confused?

And then he drops the knife in his hand like it's burned him before falling to his knees at Ghost's side.

"Hells fuckin' bells, Lt. What happened? Are ye broken?"

Scars crisscross the man's face, puckered and vicious, but... Those eyes. That voice.

And yet—

Ghost scrambles back, his frozen body falling back on the familiarity of distrust. "Get the fuck away from me," he growls. "Dunno who you are, but... but you're not him. You can't be him."

"Lt..."

A note of sadness and desperation coats the word he's heard a thousand times from lips that look just like those. The man reaches out, but Ghost smacks his hand away.

"Don't touch me," he growls.

Because it's a trick. It has to be a trick. He's not this lucky. His life is made of tragedy, the highs only there to ensure a longer drop when everything crumbles to dust. Maybe that's what this is, then? A trick to raise him up so high that the drop finally shatters him?

Maybe he's lost his mind. Or maybe he's delirious from excessive blood loss. Regardless, he won't fall for whatever game Makarov is playing now.

He attempts to stand, but it seems his body has chosen this moment to finally betray him. He groans and presses a hand into his side. A vicious hiss leaves the man's mouth as blood seeps into Ghost's glove, turning the white paint red.

"Shite. Tha's bad. Ye need to call for med evac. Are the others here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know. Makarov got you doing his interrogatin' now?"

"What? No, I'd never—"

"Never hunt the 141 for years on end. Never fuck up our missions right and left? Never ruthlessly kill soldiers without a hint of remorse? No. My Johnny would never. You, though? You've killed half of the people lying around us. Saw you do it with my scope. Now you expect me to believe you're... you're him?" Ghost shakes his head and bites back another groan of pain. "No. Johnny is dead. You're just one of Makarov's tricks."

The man's face twists into something close to panic. "Fuck. Ghost, I swear to ye... I don't... I don't remember any of tha'. What I can tell ye is I was never in tha' tunnel. Konni bastards grabbed me in Sibera and sent the 141 back with... some kind of replacement. Makarov would come see me and talk about a serum that did too good a job making them into me. Last thing I remember, I was tied to a chair in some backwater base being shot full of..."

The man trails off as he seems to realize the implications of what he's saying. All Ghost can think, though, is that even if the man is lying, the fact that he looks and sounds like Johnny means Makarov has access to far more advanced biotech than any of them suspected. 

As if to underscore the realization, a faint hiss reaches his ears as his breathing regulates. He grabs the man's vest and pulls him closer, turning his ear toward the helmet.

The hissing gets louder.

The man seems to realize what Ghost is doing and tries to pull off the helmet, but it's locked down. Zero's movements become more violent the longer he struggles, a low growl starting up deep in his chest. Ghost leans up—

And then hisses in pain as his side reminds him why that's a bad idea. His reaction seems to distract the man, though.

"Med evac, Ghost. Call it in. Ye've got nothing to fear from me."

As much as he hates to admit it, the man is right. His team is long gone with the exfil helo, so he's going to need to call in his own evac. With a shaking hand, Ghost flips on his comms.

"Ghost to Watcher-1 actual."

"Ghost, this is Watcher-1. Send traffic."

Laswell's voice soothes the frayed edges of Ghost's rapidly declining confidence in his sanity. He takes a deep breath.

"Agent Zero was waiting for us. Need med evac immediately."

"Shit. You broken?"

"Affirmative."

"Med evac already inbound. Price's doing. Hot zone?"

"Negative. All clear."

"Mission sitrep?"

"Mission FUBAR but..."

Ghost trails off, unsure of how to explain. He glances at Jo— at the man with Johnny's face and clicks off the comms.

"If you want me to believe you're Johnny," he growls, "you'll come with me and prove it."

"'Course I will, Simon," the man says in a sad tone so like Johnny's that Ghost seizes up.

Laswell's voice breaks him out of it. "Ghost, how copy?"

He clicks back into the comms and explains to Laswell that he's bringing an asset with him, the faint sound of helo blades echoing in the distance as he signs off. He stares at the man with Johnny's face, waiting for an attack. Waiting for the agent to reveal his game.

But the attack never comes. As the helo appears on the horizon, Makarov's agent just stares into space, his expression reminiscent of someone slipping into a dissociative state.

Ghost's heart makes itself known for the first time in years. Yearning, sharp as a dagger slipped between ribs, suffuses his chest. 

A stab in the back might be worth it just to feel the familiar weight in his arms, to let himself believe for a few precious seconds that his Johnny is back.

Ghost shakes away the feeling.

He can't afford to trust. Can't afford to believe.

Not yet.

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 >>

[ohbo-ohno]

in reference to the last Serial Killer!Ghost Captive!Soap ask: first off, HOLY FUCKING CHRIST. Second: I’m already thinking about how a reader may factor in.

Maybe she’s there with her friends, partying it up in the woods by a bonfire, and everyone is too drunk to notice she wanders off after hearing some whimpering from the thicket. She stumbles on Soap, muzzled tight and filthy and frantic and cradling his twisted ankle, and knows something is seriously wrong.

Immediately she drops everything and starts trying to help. She asks him if he’s okay, what happened to him, don’t worry, she’ll get him out of that muzzle. She picks at it with her fingers and nearly gets it off before she hears and FEELS a gunshot whizz right past her head.

Ghost found them. And seeing this precious little thing trying to help his good boy, immediately putting herself in front of him to keep him safe if need be, makes him start to wonder if Johnny could use a friend. And he hoists his rifle again, misses on purpose to make her yelp, and watches her back into a tree while he checks on Johnny. His ankle is fine, just a bit sprained, he’ll be back on his feet in no time. But he’s whining and shaking his head, trying to plead with Ghost through the muzzle not to kill this kind stranger who almost cut him free. He doesn’t want to see her die!! And Ghost turns back to the Reader, trembling against the tree and trying to hide behind her arms, and he comes closer like the menacing brick shithouse he is and she nearly sobs and begs that she’ll do anything, god, just please don’t shoot her!!!!

Maybe Ghost goes and kills all her friends first, comes back to find her still curled up against that tree with Johnny next to her, and she screams when she sees him fucking drenched in blood. Or maybe he takes her home first, puts her and Johnny in a crate together and locks it to make sure they stay out of trouble, and then goes out for blood; maybe he comes back to them dragging the bodies of Reader’s friends and it’s all she can do to keep from passing out. Maybe she gets included in their little chase game later on…

~🦋

someday i'll write my actual serial killer au but it is NOT TODAY so let's indulge in some variances <3 (ask is referencing this post)

i don't usually puppify my reader inserts to the extent that i do soap but holy SHIT if this ask doesn't beg for a puppy reader

ghost hunting his hound down, finds his poor boy injured and what seems to be an equally feral girl standing above him, totally protective :/ even when soap tries to shover her away, she stays crouched in front of him, hardly even flinching at the gun in ghost's arms

and isn't that interesting? this little thing so eager to protect what's his? oh, ghost is hooked immediately. (what's better than one guard dog? two guard dogs!)

manages to finally scare her away from soap with a few well placed bullets, poor thing tries hard as she can not to go skittering away but instinct gets the best of her eventually. she's not quite brave enough to tackle ghost when he gets closer, but he sees her eying his gun. ghost is quick enough checking soap that she doesn't have a chance to try anything

he'd come with a leash for soap (always makes the man crawl back to the car after their little hunts, just to keep him in that puppy headspace so he doesn't start struggling) but doesn't have an extra. good news is, soap is so desperate to keep ghost from killing his new friend, he's perfectly willing to follow without the leash when ghost hooks his collar and leash on the new girl

she doesn't have a muzzle (ghost doesn't have an extra, and none of them would fit her anyway), so he ends up tugging this wriggling and shouting thing along while his pup stays right at his side, providing such a good example for their new pet. ghost is already planning his rewards

he tucks them both into johnny's crate after wrapping the pup's ankle. gives his new girl a bone to chew on (plugs her nose and stuffs the gag between her teeth, tightens it until she growls at him and then ruffles her hair, locks her hands into some paw gloves so she starts to understand what's happening) and covers the crate in a blanket. smiles when johnny looks up at him nervously and his girl tries to cover her fear with anger

takes about an hour to kill & get rid of all her little friends.

and oh how she howls when he comes back home without hosing himself down. she squirms and writhes, kicks johnny's ankle and goes still when he whimpers. ghost can't help but laugh when she taps her forehead to his, an apology. his pups already get along so well, he can't wait to see how she'll fare after a little training

it's about time he got soap a friend, anyways. pups are social creatures, and he knows johnny needs someone to play with when ghost's busy. the new pup showed up at just the right time <3

[nickelodeonshows]

Johnny & Friends: Elevator

[doctor-whu]

Tagged by @sopheadraws 👑👑👑

(I love music games so much!!!)

I would like to inform you all that my playlist is 66 hours long and I have a diverse palette so I am not responsible if The Cast Of My Little Pony Equestrian Girls 2 covers a Frank Ocean song or something

1. Johnnie Taylor’s cover of Vienna (by Billy Joel)

Okey this is insane this would be so good it would be different but still preserve the original feeling (I need this actually)

2.Hadestown Broadway Original Cast’s cover of Rehab (by Amy Winehouse)

ANOTHER MASTERPIECE like the fates would kill those ‘no, no, no’ s. Like this would be a fates heavy song with others chiming in and I would be obsessed thank you very much 🙏🙏

3. Rachel Zegler’s cover of Alejandro (by Lady Gaga)

I have never heard her sing a song badly but this song won’t go well with her voice. I think an acoustic version with harmonies would be good tho. (The more I imagine a soft acoustic version more I want it)

4. Billie Eilish’s cover of Hound Dog (by Big Mama Thornton)

no

5.Robert Cray, The Robert Cray Band’s cover of No More Rain (In This Cloud) (by Angie Stone)

I think it would be good but I feel like he would make small changes to the instrumentals don’t know what else to say about it

6. Lana Del Rey’s cover of Dance With You Tonight (by Laufey)

I think it would be different definitely darker/moodier but I love the original too much so I kinda think she wouldn’t do it justice especially if it was live cause I feel like the way she sings and the playfulness in her voice is very integral to the songs whole identity

7. Beyoncé’s cover of Forgiveness (by Rina Sawayama)

weirdly a huge YES from me I think she would lower the sound of the instrumentals and focus on her vocals which she would destroy (of course)“Sometimes I blame you sometimes I don’t” especially could be very lemonade

8. Hozier’s cover of Diamonds and Rust (by Joan Baez)

amazing. no notes. perfection. hozier covers are my mental health treatment

9. (again!!) Hozier’s cover of WAP (by Cardi B, Megan Thee Stalion)

I am conflicted…. slay?

10. (again!!?!!) Hozier’s cover of Nothing You Can Take Away From Me (Boot-Stomping version) (by Rachel Zegler, The Covey Band)

I interpret this as Hozier’s formal apology after the WAP incident (Handsome Squidwardian event for sure) He would do justice to this song, (very him) I would go insane if this was real

+11. (doing another one because hozier took 3 spots jdkdkdkdjsj😤✊) The Cast Of Hamilton’s cover of Dumb & Poetic (by Sabrina Carpenter)

I regret my choice to do another one and I don’t listen to Hamilton often so only thing I can think of is Lin Mal Miranda impressions on tik tok that are then used to make unserious gay ship edits so obviously.. 10/10 this is what the industry is lacking thank you for coming to my conference 🙏🙏📈📈👆👆😘😘

@simplysummers @angelhummel @freddieslater @bansheeheart @inlovewith-icecream

Also @ anyone who sees this and wants to ✨

[thegnomelord]

pls pls pls pls pls pls write something with hound getting a lil chubby during rehab pls i want to see him soft and comfy, being hand fed and cuddled. hound with a little tum from finally having not only enough to eat but enough rest to actually gain a little extra weight pls im in my knees characters getting a lil chub as a sign of healing my beloved

Okay here's a small brain fart for you:

You've gotten fat.

it's a rather egregious exaggeration, according to the two sergeants, but it's the first thing you think of when you look in the mirror. Your hard muscles still bulge beneath your skin when you flex, but now there's a layer of fat cushioning your frame — it smooths the planes of your abdomen, widens the circumference of your thighs and the breadth of your shoulders until you're popping the seams of your clothes, the layer of fat deepening the cleavage between your pecks whenever you cross your arms. Even your cheeks look chubbier than they had before.

You don't look like death warmed over, and you don't know how to feel about it. The psychologist says it's a good thing, your body finally figuring out it can slow down and focus on healing instead of constantly living on the edge of a knife.

But you just don't see it. It feels like you're regressing; Forgetting the harshness of the wild when you're collared and leashed by the fireplace, growing fat and lazy, complacent. A spoiled dog isn't loyal.

You let out a noise at the back of your throat when Johnny suddenly rushes into the small room you've been given, the door slamming open and closed. You don't have time to even say a single word before he's in front of you, "Hide me!" and then he's gripping your shit and pushing himself beneath it. Your frame is big enough to where you completely block him out, and his arms wrap as much as they can around your waist so he can cling to you.

You're rarely stunned to the point you don't know what to do, but this is one of those times.

A second later you hear a "MacTavish!" and loud footsteps rush down the hall, accompanied by loud swears and threats you can only assume are from Ghost.

Johnny waits still as a statue as the footsteps grow quiet, his breath washing over your skin from where his face is pressed against your chest. When they grow quiet he shuffles, a couple of seams popping in the already stretched out shirt until he pokes his head through the head hole of the shirt, resting his chin on the top of your sternum. "Thanks laddie, saved me skin there."

"Что блят?" Is the only thing your mind can force out, defaulting to Russian because you haven't been able to dig up your mother tongue from the grave the old you is buried in.

"Ah don't worry about it, the bloody dobber had it comin' with his bloody tea in chef Mike an' — Hmmm," His attention focuses on you, head disappearing beneath the shirt once again until only his stupid mohawk pokes out as his hands give an experimental squeeze at your sides, some of the fat getting trapped between his fingers. "Hey, have you gotten bigger? Ah could swear you weren't so fluffy before."

"That a nice way of calling me fat?" You feel the need to cross your arms, to hide the cushioning hiding your muscles. Ants gnaw on your skin where Soap touches you, his calloused palms sliding as far as they can and a strange sound rumbling in his chest when he registers that the space between both of his hands is indeed larger than it had been a couple of months ago.

"Nonsense!" He guffaws, "There's just more ta love." He hums, hands pinching the fat at your sides, evidently too content with your position as his human furnace to even think about detaching from you. "Oh yeah, you've filled out. Yae know hens love the dad bod, get some more hair on yer chest an' you'll be reeling the bucks in too."

"That-" You have to bite your lip when his hands suddenly shoot up to grope your pecks. He pushes them together and buries his face in the cleavage created. Your brain completely shuts off when he fucking motorboats you, shaking his head and making a sound right against your chest to the point you're sure you can feel the vibrations in your spine.

"MacT-avish!" The sound that escapes you is humorously high-pitched for someone of your size, your voice cracking as you feel your entire face grow hot.

He pokes his head back out like a whack-a-mole, a very pleased look on his face. "Yeeess?" He asks, sickly sweet. "Something the problem big man?"

"I-" You try, too many thoughts weighing down your tongue, "-You-" this time your voice cracks, "-why-" you hiccup, your lungs choosing this time to request air as you breathe in. You look in his eyes as best you can, but the way the sparkle makes it difficult for your body to stoke the flames of anger you've grown so used to feel. ". . . блят." You finally manage to say, your shoulders sagging.

He grins at you, his hands sliding down to pet the soft surface of your stomach, fingers pressing down to feel the hard muscle beneath the fat. "Aye, big bear of a fucker, you are." He grins and goes on his tippy toes, the shirt moving up with him before he lightly pecks your lips. "Yae look good like this."

"Yeah?" You grunt, trying not to show how the soft touch affects you but your ears feel like you'd dipped them into the pits of hell.

"Definitely." He's confident when his hands slides down to grope your ass, forcing another embarrassing sound from your chest. "Now how about we get some more food in yer belly? Make you the famous MacTavish pie."

[theycalledhimastar]

Busy thinkin' about more Dog!141 and Dog!Johnny <3

☄. *.

Dog!Johnny who mopes and acts completely put out because you *Don't* take him home with you despite all his whining and (literal) puppy dog eyes. How could you leave him there? He sat so nicely and only put up a little bit of a fight when you *didn't* want his nose shoved between your thighs. (Which is totally a dog thing and not at all just him being absolutely horrible.)

Dog!Johnny who spends the next few days howling and lazing around the park in his spare time like a dying hound, just *waiting* for you to come back and take him with you this time. Nobody else can satiate him, he just begrudgingly rolls over anytime anyone else tries to give him attention. *They aren't you, It's not the same.*

Dog!Johnny who knocks you over, tackles you entirely the second he spots you back at the park. You hadn't left him forever after all! He knew you couldn't stay away. Truth be told, you had taken a detour since the weather was nice and you somehow ran into fewer people this way on your trek home. Running into the energetic furball was simply an added bonus (for him).

Dog!Johnny showers your face with slobbery kisses and shoves his cold, damp nose in your face, sniffing every last detail of where you had been the past few days. He simply had to know more about you, where you lived, where you worked, if you lived alone, just dog things, y'know? You just think this dog somehow attached itself to you and likes the attention. You're not entirely wrong there, you just have no idea the full extent of what you're unleashing when you let the (still) collarless mutt follow you home.

You let him stay in your back yard for now, not eager to have a random dog just running freely in your house, no matter how cute he is. Johnny is just over the moon at the fact that he knows your address now, *He can visit you whenever he likes!* He won't even have to go through all the effort of research in his human form. You were even nice enough to offer him some of your leftovers that you had briefly researched to see if it was dog-safe. Not that it mattered, Johnny would eat anything and everything that you offered him. Anything was better than day-old takeout again at his flat.

You sat in the backyard with him while he scarfed down the leftover fried rice you had put in a plastic bowl, rubbing the soft fur between his ears. You thought it was just *sooooo cute* that he had a tuft of hair on his head that looked just like a mohawk would. It was just so unique and adorable, a cute little coincidence, right? Whenever you asked if he was actually human in a (likely) joking manner, he just tilted his head in that way that he knew others loved. Sure enough, your squeals of endearment proved him to be correct once again.

Dog!Johnny who hates to see you go inside for the night and leave him all alone out there, but doesn't mind for a single second when you plant a kiss on his snout before going. He makes up his mind on the spot that he is going to ensure he keeps you. Nobody else can have you, not after a special little moment like that. He forgets that as far as you're aware, he's just some stray dog that followed you home for food and attention. Although as much as he loves you, he's not going to just sleep in your backyard by himself. Not yet anyways.

Dog!Johnny who goes back to his flat, setting an alarm so he can get up bright and early to go back to your backyard, ensuring it looks like he never left on the off chance that you might check for him. Sure enough, you do, and you're shocked to see the mutt there, waiting for you with a happy little look on his fluffy mug.

Dog!Johnny pretends not to understand what you're saying as you tell him you have to go to work and that if he behaves, you might let him inside for a bit. But he knows full well that he's about to be the best behaved "dog" you'll ever see. And he is *definitely* going to be coming inside your house. (Maybe)

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Events In The History And Of The Life Of Elvis Presley Today On The 27th Of July In 1976.

Elvis Presley Community War Memorial Hall Syracuse New York;

 steady stream of flashbulbs illuminated the big hall as Elvis Presley moved through C.C. Rider and I Got A Woman, teasing the heavily-female audience with many of those no longer infamous 'bumps'. The crowd joined in as Elvis Presley broke into Amen and then quieted as the Tupelo, MS. native switched to one of his biggest hits, Love Me. Elvis Presley got acquainted with the crowd early as Charlie Hodge, the only 'scarf man' in show business, provided him with a seemingly-endless flow of baby blue and white scarves. Elvis Presley draped them momentarily around his neck or wiped his thoroughly soaked brow and cast them into the audience. He might as well have been giving out $10 bills the way the recipients reacted.

Many in turn presented him with gifts - handmade items, clothing, yellow roses, etc. - and a few were rewarded with kisses from Elvis Presley's tremendous vocal range manifested itself in You Gave Me a Mountain and minutes later he had 8,400 Bicentennial-oriented men, women and children on their feet with a moving vocal and narrative rendition of America the Beautiful. He turned to a medley of his biggest hits - All Shook Up, Teddy Bear and Don't Be Cruel - but got as much applause from songs he borrowed from Olivia Newton-John and Peggy Lee. Jailhouse Rock, another old favorite and Polk Salad Annie followed before Elvis Presley introduced the talented group of singers and musicians who back him up. The latter served as a rest period for Elvis Presley while at the same time providing the opportunity for solo spots for his guitarists, drummer and piano players.

Elvis Presley got in a few bars of Early Mornin' Rain, What'd I Say?, Johnny B. Good and Love Letters during the instrumental solos and then brought the crowd to its feet with a stirring rendition of a former Timi Yuro hit Hurt, Elvis Presley's latest single. An encore performance of the latter plus a few short bars of Hound Dog brought Elvis Presley to the nostalgic Funny How Time Slips Away and the crowd moved closer with the realization that the concert end was near. Telling the crowd that 'You've been one of the finest audiences we ever worked with', Presley said he'll be back 'if you want me'. A thunderous standing ovation followed, giving Presley his answer, and security men whisked him out of the building as a virtual sea of humanity closed in on the stage. Love live Elvis Presley! Rare Candid Photos Taken Here Of Elvis Presley From This Show Concert By A Fan Audience Member.

A Elvis Presley Female Fans Review Who Attended This Show.

[sleeplessgreaser]

The Outsiders as Animals

wanted to draw Johnny and Dally but I can't draw people to save my life + i love using animals to represent characterizations of people = i came up with the animal equivalents of the gang

also im an animal nerd so i gotta use my knowledge somehow

This is gonna be long because of all the pictures, sorry

Johnny Cade - alley cat

A skinny alley cat of no specific breed, just your basic domestic feline. Likely with black, tuxedo or black smoke fur. He lives almost exclusively outside and is often the target of abuse and bullying, resulting in malnourishment and less-than-ideal hygiene. But, if you feed him and give him a warm place to sleep at night, he might just be your friend. He didn't choose this kind of life, and really he deserves much better.

Dallas Winston - hound

A tall, lanky mutt, with a barrel chest and sharp, pointed features. He's not a specific breed, and definitely not a purebred, but similar to an Ibizan hound. He likes to go fast and enjoys racing, but he also enjoys going out and hunting for some action. His stature might be intimidating, and his teeth sure are big, but he's not so bad once you get to know him... if he let's you, that is.

Two-Bit Mathews - possum

Just your average wild possum, with a goblinoid personality and little grabby hands. He'll show off his teeth any chance he gets, but it's anyone's guess if he'll ever use them. Also, he's surprisingly clean given his lifestyle. (And it's absolutely shocking that he doesn't carry rabies.)

Steve Randle - mountain lion

Lean and muscular, can jump wide gaps and is surprisingly dexterous, and sure he looks innocent enough on the surface (if you didn't know any better) but he would love to beat you up and absolutely will if you give him ANY reason to. You may not be afraid of him, but you should be.

Darrel Curtis - Kodiak or grizzly bear

Big, strong and sturdy. He looks scary, and sounds scary, and yes you should probably be scared, but he'll leave you alone if you mind your own business. Alongside that, he's mostly a loner, definitely wishes he didn't have 2 cubs to look after, but he will provide for them and protect them until his dying breath.

Sodapop Curtis - black bear

A handsome guy, with sleek fur and a kind face. He looks so sweet, and boy is he a charmer, but in reality he is a menace to society (and it's easy to forget that). He will mess with you, and he enjoys being a nuisance, but if you tell him to knock it off he'll probably stop... probably.

Ponyboy Curtis - Gobi bear

Small and dog-like, but still a bear! His kind is endangered and there aren't many like him. He lives in a place that you might not expect, but he's happiest there. He's not much of a hunter, definitely more of a gatherer. He'll defend himself if he has to, especially if he has some backup, but really he doesn't want to hurt anyone.