#Maid for muddy paws

[passionneat]

More Than a Chore: The Evolution of Cleaning Services in Today's World

In a fast-paced world where time is precious, mundane tasks like cleaning can often take a back seat. However, muddy paws the evolution of cleaning services has transformed this essential chore into a dynamic industry that caters to the modern lifestyle. Beyond the traditional perception of cleaning as a simple task, professional cleaning services have stepped up to offer a wide array of benefits that go far beyond just tidying up. In this article, we'll explore the evolution of cleaning services and how they have become more than just a chore in today's world.

Customized Solutions for Diverse Needs

Gone are the days of one-size-fits-all cleaning approaches. Today's Maid for muddy paws cleaning services offer tailored solutions to meet the unique needs of every home and individual. Whether it's a busy professional who needs a quick spruce-up, a family managing a bustling household, or someone requiring specialized cleaning due to allergies, cleaning services now provide personalized packages to address specific requirements.

Time-Saving Convenience

Time is undoubtedly one of our most precious resources. Cleaning services recognize this and have evolved to offer unparalleled convenience. With just a few clicks or a simple phone call, you can schedule professional cleaners to come to your home at a time that suits you. This frees you from the burden of spending your weekends scrubbing, mopping, and dusting, magnolia cleaning service allowing you to focus on activities that truly matter.

Expertise and Efficiency

The evolution of cleaning services has brought about expertise that can transform your living space. Trained professionals use the latest techniques, tools, and eco-friendly products to deliver cleanliness that is often hard to achieve with DIY efforts. Their efficiency ensures that even large spaces are thoroughly cleaned in a fraction of the time it would take an individual.

Health and Well-Being

Cleanliness isn't just about aesthetics; it's closely tied to our health and well-being. Modern cleaning services prioritize the use of products and methods that not only remove visible dirt but also eliminate germs and allergens. This is particularly important in a world where health concerns have taken center stage. Professional cleaning can create a healthier environment for you and your family, reducing the risk of infections and allergies.

Eco-Friendly Practices

Environmental consciousness has shaped various industries, and cleaning services are no exception. The evolution of cleaning services has led to adopting of eco-friendly practices and products that minimize the impact on the planet. These services contribute to a greener future while ensuring a pristine living space, from biodegradable cleaning agents to energy-efficient cleaning equipment.

Aesthetic Enhancement

A clean space is an aesthetically pleasing space. Professional cleaning services not only remove dirt but also restore the beauty of your home. Whether restoring the shine to your floors, making your windows crystal clear, or rejuvenating upholstery, these services play a crucial role in enhancing the visual appeal of your living environment.

Conclusion

The evolution of cleaning services has transformed this essential chore into an indispensable resource that aligns with the demands of the modern world. With customized solutions, time-saving convenience, expertise, health considerations, eco-friendliness, and aesthetic enhancements, cleaning services have become more than just a chore – they are vital to a balanced and comfortable lifestyle. As we continue to navigate the demands of our busy lives, the role of professional cleaning services will only continue to grow, offering us the gift of a cleaner, healthier, and more enjoyable living space.

[ghostedbunnie]

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly. 

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in. 

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach. 

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.” 

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.” 

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

taglist: @a66-1 , @ghostlythots , @rttxcmt , @september-22-1998 , @fluffysmiko , @gyusbrownie , @bumblebeesfromvenus , @magicalforestcat , @nommingonfood , @tami-doodles , @fateisnotafactor , @m-a-l-a-c-z-a-r-n-a , @nicolebarnes , @msdevil333 , @lilpothoscuttings , @tealeaftallulah , @not-reptilian , @moonfloweronmars , @aliceinwonderland-5678 , @marshmelloe , @i-love-you-just-the-same, @lazyperfectioniste , @tragedyinwaves , @thisisforthebest97 , @talkingcorn , @hxnneydew , @resplendantrosewood , @telvannitea , @the-casual-act , @hello-lemons, @kiwicopia , @just-a-sewer-goblin

[werecreature-addicted]

So in to the werewolf who needs to be collared and gently dommed. He’s a sweet boy but he’s just so carless sometimes. Leaving messes. Knocking things over. Getting dirt and slobber in the house. Naughty boys have to be punished. And don’t get me started on how thinks he deserves to get his dick wet. He thinks he’s a big tough guy who’s cock you cannot live without, but as soon you deny him even a little bit, he turns into a whining mess that will do anything you ask. He’s gotta work for that reward.

You're sick of it. you're sick of cleaning up mud every night just to have fresh muddy paw prints tracked through your house the next day. You're sick of dirty dishes piled in the sink when your werewolf boyfriend promised he'd do them. You're sick of feeling more like a maid than a partner.

It started off small, just brushing off his advances. There was something really un-sexy about a guy who apparently can't even do his own laundry.

He was frustrated. it had been so long since he'd gotten any release. and he has no idea why you're giving him the cold shoulder. enough is enough. He catches you, pins you against the wall, and demands to know why you're avoiding him.

"I'm putting my foot down. I'm not going to have sex with you until you start cleaning up after yourself. I'm not your maid. I don't want to have sex with a man-child," you huff. He smirks down at you

"Awee is that what you're upset about. okay okay, I promise that I'll start cleaning up after myself. now come here and give me a kiss-" he said leaning in to kiss you but you jerked your head to the side avoiding his mouth.

"No. not until after you proved yourself," you stood firm. he grinned down at you, condescendingly, You look so cute, pouting and pinned to the wall, completely at his mercy.

"Yeah, babe? Do you think you can resist me?" he asked, reaching down to pull down his pants just enough to show the base of his cock. "you know you want this dick," he thinks he's being sexy. Normally you'd be all over him- playing along and agreeing that yeah you do want his dick but now you're just... glaring at him. You don't look a little bit flustered or tempted.

"I'm good thanks," you say briskly and brush him off. He's left there stunned. How can you not want him at all? He feels like he's going crazy without you.

You reject him at every turn. Can he get just a hand job? no. Will you let him go down on you? no. Can he just- please pretty please hump your leg? You don't even respond to that one.

The next day the home is spotless and dinner is cooked for you with flowers. You're a little stunned at the swiftness of the change.

"Please can I have you now? I've been a good boy, right? Please I need you," he whimpers, nuzzling at your neck, needing any kind of stimulation, just your scent is enough to get him hard.

"...no," you decide. he about cries, how could you be so mean to him?

"You'll just go back to ignoring the chores tomorrow if I let you have a reward now," you say more teasing than anything.

"How much longer until you give me a treat?" he asks.

"At least a week."

For the first time since the two of you got together, he jerks off. it's unsatisfying, to say the least. He's learned his lesson. he'll be a good boy from now on just please please, please make him cum.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Ok. The way you described Lucifer in one of your House of Mouse posts just made me think of this. When Yuu goes to wait on Lady Tremiene's (I'm sure I spelt that wrong) table, the moment she doesn't see Lucifer there she knows her ankles are in danger. He seems like the type of cat that just waits under a surface and attacks whoever passes. So Yuu's just trying to work and Lucifer just jumped from under a table to bite her.

Oh no, Lucifer just earned himself a spot on the list.

Cinderella knows first-hand how awful that cat is - she was even the one that warned Yuu about him. Cinderella may be gentle and caring but she hates that cat so much (remember her anger when he ruined all of her hard work when he ran across the newly cleaned floor with muddy paw prints).

Lucifer just attacks Yuu, either by jumping on her or biting her ankles or something, causing her to fall down and drop the plates she was holding. Loudly. In front of the entire club.

Poor Yuu looks like she's about to cry. She's apologising to the customers nearby as well as the other staff and she's got food that's staining the nice uniform that Mickey gave her.

Don't worry, though because Goofy's coming to the rescue. He'll come right over and gently guide her away whilst dismissing her apologies with a laugh, telling her all about his own screw-ups as a waiter and that it's okay to make mistakes and no one's mad at her. Mickey diffuses the situation by playing another cartoon or having a live performance put on the show whilst the Fantasia brooms clean up the mess. Minnie gives Yuu a new, clean uniform and refuses to let Yuu wash the one she was wearing.

The second Cinderella sees this all go down, she quietly excuses herself from the princess' table and makes her way to the staff room to see how the waitress is doing. She knows first hand how rotten that cat can be and just sits outside the door, comforting her until Yuu opens it and they hug.

Cinderella can see how Yuu's treated less like a person and more like a prisoner/servant and her heart just goes out for her when she sees how Yuu just grins as she works hard because she has no other option. Just like she had to spend years living as a maid after her father died because her entire childhood was spent locked inside her house - she had literally no one except the animals.

(No but really Crowley literally made Yuu a janitor before he enrolled her as a student and then she's forced to do things she's uncomfortable with because she's a teenager with no family that's literally dependant on him for food, money and dangerous shelter that no human should live in)

She would've marched right over and punished that cat but Yuu just told her to leave it and that she's alright. Normally she wouldn't have let it go but the villains are already reaming into him so she just gives Yuu another comforting smile and walks back.

NO BUT LET THE PRINCES/PRINCESSES ADOPT YUU. FOUND FAMILY IS MY FAVOURITE TROPE AND YUU DESERVES HAPPINESS AFTER EVERYTHING.

Max, Huey, Dewey and Louie are not going to let that slight against their sorta-sister-cousin figure stand. The triplets are pranksters with access to the Juniour Woodchuck Guidebook. They know how to make someone pay and Max is more than ready to act as their alibi/getaway driver.

[clawsbcared-a]

@pulchramsolis ASKED: five times shared - for Dacey

1 - second day in the keep as captive

the room had had no maids venture inside since her thrashing battle during the evening, her dinner lay tossed across her prison as the scratches on her forearms ache and pulse from the irritation. eyes glassy, the bear maiden notices not when the lady enters her chambers nor does she take note of when the red curls invdade her space and threaten to suffocate her as the voices whisper incessantly: the window, crawl to the window, watch the storm call you to the sea, call you to the waves below.

coming to focus at the sweet voice, the eldest daughter of the bears blinks back tears she had not known had formed and a rough cough tears through her throat - when was the last time she had spoke without a scream? she was not sure. quietly, a hoarse whisper cuts through the silence as the prisoner speaks. "i am scared."

2 - a few weeks after being allowed to leave her chambers

legs cross beneath her as pale fingers work achingly to hook flowers together one-by-one, bare feet tucked up in the muddied fabric of her beige skirts - many seemed to leave her be when she would be in such a state on bear island, and it seemed the rumours followed her to the keep as her only company was the lady abrogail strong. humming the tune of a lullaby her mother would sing to her as a child, the distant woman breaks out into a wide smile.

adorning the curls of fire with the flower crown, dacey claps dainty hands together with a childish enthusiasm. "a real queen, the children of the forest would even bow in honour to you, abby."

3 - admiring the training yard

perhaps a wrong turn had caused them to stand in the archway to the training yard, a group of knights gathered before prince aemond and ser criston with swords at their hips and familiar white cloaks adorning their backs - her gaze caught the shimmer of silvery locks across the way to the king aegon II perched on a bench, a goblet of something sloshing around without balance.

though whispers of familiar voices itched in her subconcious, dacey shook her head and pointed to the shortswords on display behind prince aemond with a cheeky smile playing on her lips - smiles seemed to be saved for abrogail these days. "i am quite proficient with one of those, i'm sure i could give both the prince and ser criston a run for their money . . ." for a moment she sounded like wylla, a charming challenge itching on the tip of her tongue before she quickly spins on her heel with her attention taken elsewhere. it would be one of those days indeed.

4 - a day with heleana and abby has left her clear minded

her mind seemed stable these days, even more-so when she was in the presence of abrogail or heleana, but stability meant emotions of regret and guilt from years gone piling in on the young woman. as she is joined by her red headed companion, there are soft cries falling from her lips, tears trailing down pale cheeks as grey eyes seem content in watching the licks of flames in the fireplace. her heart was hurting.

arys had been her joy, they had formed within her from passion and - what she had thought to be love - and was ripped away from her grasp the moment their last breath was taken. though her lover, their father, never crossed her mind, never did she feel the guilt of his death until now. "abby, my dear sister . . . how does one aid in relieving guilt for i believe i am wracked by it, by arys' father? by my father as his killer . . . how could i have been so stupid?"

5 - after the dust has settled from the dance

the cottage she had built up on the outskirts of the north was such out of a fairytale, the stones hidden through vines of ivy and windows painted with the prints of small hands and bear paws alike - the war had maimed many, but it seemed for dacey she had been cleared of her mind and omens came fewer and far between. perched by a small mound of dirt, a hand was pressed softly to the area as a silent prayer to the old gods slipped from her smiling lips.

the laughter of her children calls her back to her feet at the familiar curls of red entering her land, features soft as ever and arms open wide as she collects the younger woman within them. "my sister of strength," a kiss is pressed to her cheek as her children pull at abrogail's skirts - two and four respectfully - it has been some time. "i have something," fleeing into the cottage, the eldest daughter returns with a familiar looking flower crown, recreated for this very moment as if she had seen it, "for my forever queen."

[mintandcoldwater]

Bakusquad Crack(?) Fic WIP

It was 3 am.

The common room door creaked open.

There was a group shuffling in, faces slack, exhaustion seeping from their postures.

Still, they were trying to move quietly, and not wake the rest of their dormmates.

The door closed.

The lights turned on.

“Fuck.” several people swore.

Most of the members of the Bakusquad faced the rest of their classmates and an irate looking homeroom teacher with tired but sheepish expressions. Bakugou himself just looked done.

No one spoke.

Aizawa, 30, fucking tired, lifted an eyebrow.

Bakugou, 16, full of spite, raised one back.

Still, not a word.

Finally, Kirishima broke. “It was necessary sensei.”

The boy’s words were solemn, his face serious, but Ashido and Kaminari were in wedding dresses, Sero was in muddy, ripped jeans (and was that a paw print on his chest?), Bakugou had on a baby carrier and Jirou was in a maid uniform with coffee stains on the front. He was not going to mention Kirishima in nothing but red, bedazzled booty shorts and knee-high boots. He refused to.

“How the hell,” Aizawa closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn’t see them, they would go away, “was going to McDonald’s at 2 in the morning necessary?”

“Oh no,” Kirishima replied hurriedly, “we weren’t, well,’ he nervously chuckled as he stumbled over his words. “We were at McDonald’s in the last bit, but only because we got hungry after! We-”

“It was a villain.” Bakgou interrupted and Aizawa felt his headache increase tenfold.

“What.”

“It was a-,”

“No, I heard what you said.”

Crack adjacent Bakusquad fic I’m working on where they are trapped in different AUs and have to complete the prompts to set each other free.

[xxlittle0birdxx]

WIP: A Time to be Brave

Low, rumbling growls came from behind him.  Jaime spun in the muddy field. A pack of four direwolves crept slowly from the woods, moving on silent paws, hot breath steaming in the frigid air.  One with dark fur snapped its teeth mere inches away from his body. Another, as white as the snowdrifts surrounding the woods, eyes glowing like rubies, hung back, lips curled back from his fangs, staring warily at him.  Vicious snarls thrummed on his other side. Jaime reached for his sword, the fingers of his right hand closing around the hilt. He drew the Valyrian steel sword his father had given him, the blade singing with bright sweetness as it left its scabbard.  A large lion, contempt emanating from it, marched slowly across the clearing, followed closely by a lioness. The lion stopped in front of Jaime and regarded him with icy disapproval. He opened his jaws wide and roared, ruffling Jaime’s hair, the scent of blood heavy on his breath.  The sword dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers. He was going to die, trapped between his family and his oath. ‘Get behind me.’ Brienne appeared next to him, her armor the brilliant deep blue of sapphires.  

‘I will not!’ Jaime rasped in indignation.  ‘I can fight.’

‘Can you?’  Brienne’s eyes were sympathetic as they flicked to his right hand.  It was bloodless and white and so cold that Jaime thought it might shatter if he touched it.  ‘Give me a sword, Ser Jaime. I will protect you.’ The lioness bared her teeth at Brienne. Jaime knelt and took up his sword and pressed it into Brienne’s waiting hand.  She took it without taking her gaze away from the lions. Brienne stood in front of Jaime, and as she lifted the blade, flames as bright as the sunbursts on her sigil spiraled up the blade.  The wolves retreated, but the pale grey direwolf with amber eyes regarded the pair of them thoughtfully before bounding away into the woods.  

That left the lions.  

The male sat back, while the female sprang at Brienne.  Brienne swung the sword, and it sliced through the lioness’ pelt, leaving crimson streaks on the golden fur…

[...]

‘Ser Jaime?’  The squire stood at the foot of Jaime’s bed and cautiously shook one of Jaime’s feet.  He knew better than to stand next to Jaime and wake him. Not after the first squire to do so after Jaime returned to King’s Landing ended up careening into the armor stand when the Lord Commander punched him.  ‘Ser Jaime…?’

Jaime’s eyes flew open and he groggily sat up, the dream shredding into wisps of memory and mist.  ‘Is it the king?’

‘No, m’lord.  Her Grace would like to speak with you.’  The squire moved about the chamber lighting candles.  He shook out the clothing that had been laid out for the morning and held out the smalls.  Jaime had managed to master the art of tying the laces one-handed, albeit clumsily, but he was damned if he would let the bloody squire dress him like some sort of doll.  By the time the squire wound the burgundy scarf around Jaime’s neck, and helped him shrug into the leather doublet, Jaime was fully awake. He gave the golden hand a look of pure loathing, but donned it nonetheless.  Cersei had made her feelings quite plain regarding the stump. Jaime finger-combed his hair. The squire moved to the armor stand, but Jaime waved him off. ‘I don’t think it will be necessary. It’s late. Go to back to bed.’

The squire nodded, pausing to straighten the bedding on Jaime’s bed.  Once the boy had left, Jaime ran a fingertip over the bedpost. It had been carved from a weirwood tree decades ago -- perhaps in the time of the first Aerys or Jaehaerys.  His dreams had grown more and more vivid the longer he slept in the Lord Commander’s chamber. Some felt so real, he had to spend more than a few moments upon waking to convince himself it had only been a dream.  His eyes lit on the Valyrian steel sword, sitting serenely on a stand, gleaming in dimly lit room. The flickering candlelight shimmered on the edge, creating the illusion of flames dancing over the blade. In his dream, he’d had both his hands, but the right one was useless.  He lightly touched the hilt, staring at the armor hidden under the swaths of one of his spare cloaks. If he couldn’t wield the sword in a way that would honor it, perhaps Brienne could. ‘No,’ he murmured. ‘She will.’  He shook himself from his reverie and walked out of the chamber.  

The night air was cool and redolent with the aroma of herbs and flowers over the more odoriferous aspects of the city.  Jaime made his way to Cersei’s chamber and knocked perfunctorily, then opened the door. ‘Your Grace,’ he said, with a just-barely correct bow.  Cersei sprawled elegantly over a chaise, the diaphanous fabric of her bedgown rippling in the breeze wafting through the window. She held a goblet full of a rich, dark wine.   ‘We have installed a taster, who will test every morsel and drop intended for the king. We’ve added Lannister guards to supplement the Kingsguard who guard the king’s bedchamber…’  Jaime strode to the carafe sitting on the table, intending to pour himself a cup. He passed the mouth of the carafe under his nose, and his eyes widened. Dornish strongwine.  Jaime set the carafe down, and eyed the goblet in his sister’s hand.  She brought it to her mouth and took a swallow. How much has she had already? Jaime wondered with a growing sense of unease.  Dornish strongwine was supposed to be served in small glasses and savored, but Cersei drank as if it was a common Dornish red or the spiced honey wine served in Lannisport taverns and alehouses.  

Cersei swung her feet to the floor and stood, draining the goblet.  She crossed the room to the table and refilled her goblet. ‘Did you fuck her?’ she asked without preamble.

‘What?’

‘That great shambling beast of a woman you insisted on installing in a chamber in the Red Keep,’ Cersei added, as she lifted the goblet to her mouth.  ‘Did you fuck her?’ she repeated.

Jaime forced himself to respond with a laugh, albeit a decidedly hollow one, while his blood ran cold.  ‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘She’s called the Maid of Tarth for a reason,’ he told Cersei. ‘There is nothing about her that could possibly entice me.’

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

OT3FIC: Rat Terrier

19 - She felt for the lock in the dark

She felt for the lock in the dark, trying to be as quiet as possible as she fumbled for her keys in the front door as silently as possible. The porch light was not on, but then again Jo had told the pair that she wouldn’t be back until later in the day. She’d called at six the night before and said she had a grave dig, and then burning the bones of the ghost haunt she was on, and then doing a sweep over the house to check that there was no EMF still active, head back to the hotel for some sleep (after she’d almost crashed her car three months earlier pushing a second all nighter trying to drive home before crashing out) and then was due to pull in to the drive just before dinner that night.

Instead, it was just after one in the morning - over seventeen hours earlier than she had said to either man - and she was creeping in the front door quietly and kicking her muddy boots off with a relieved sigh at feeling her feet free from the tight leather boots for the first time since the previous afternoon. Jo shrugged off her coat and tossed this over the back of the couch, leaning down to scratch behind Harley and Max’s ears as she went past, before pressing a kiss to Nana’s head when she raised hers in attention as Jo passed heading towards the kitchen as quietly as possible.

She had hung up the phone with the pair the previous evening and reached the grave site with the full intention for a long night of digging and not getting onto torching the bones until well after midnight with how firm the soil had felt when she’d been past to scope out the area earlier in the day. This ghost was of an old woman called Nelly Fieldman and had been haunting the hotel in the town for the past hundred years - leaving dead bloody corpses in the beds instead of guests with police investigations every few years bringing up absolutely nothing. It had taken three days to work out who the ghost belonged to, until Jo’d found the record of the elderly maid that had been found two decades before the first deaths and had been found dead in her bed with her throat slit and no justice found for her. She had taken far longer than she’d hoped to find the woman’s grave, and as she’d carried the shovel over her shoulder and the jerry can of fuel against her thigh as she made her way - Jo’d planned on taking all night to sort out the job.

However, Jo had been surprised by the appearance of a man as she’d barely got half a foot dug - his own fuel can and shovel held beside him as he’d gotten to her, and Jo’d relaxed from the spring ready to run as the tall, dark haired man has stepped down to begin digging alongside her. It was a rare occurrence to come across another hunter in the midst of a hunt; and even rarer one she didn’t know. He cracked a wide smile, all white teeth and friendliness that she rarely saw from any hunter than herself or the gangliest hunter she knew, and asked if she needed a hand. Jo had laughed at that, and nodded, sinking back into the work quickly alongside the other.

But working in a companionable chatter about the case itself, complaints about the crappy motel they both seemed to be staying in and just how bad having one television station was, and the odd grunts about “stupid old biddies” from the both of them, the work was completed in next to no time - and Jo knew it was not down to her own efforts but the assistance of a the built man, who’d knelt down on the wooden slats of the grave and cradled her foot, helping to push her out of the grave before following after her. They’d shared a nod and an exchange of numbers and names before he’d even gallantly offered to do the refilling of the grave if Jo would do the EMF sweep instead; and together they’d confirmed the close before it even hit ten at night. There had been a flirtatious joke about seeing one another at the motel before Jo had laughed sharply and said she’d be heading straight off instead once they were sure it was all fine, that got a shrug and a ‘your loss’ alongside another toothy grin in response. And then just short of a three hour drive, and Jo was home, if a little dustier and dirtier and sweatier than she normally rolled in.

As she passed the stairway on her way towards the fridge and where she hoped there might be the fixings for a grilled cheese or even a cold slice of pizza, Jo tilted her head to the side hearing a noise coming from up the hall and stairs. It took a moment for her to place, before hers lips twitched up into a grin as she recognized exactly what those noises were.

Moving through to the kitchen, and letting out a small yelp as Buster scurried between her legs without warning, paws going up on the freezer at the bottom and big puppy eyes looking up at her imploringly, Jo tugged out the butter, cheese slices, bread and even tugged out the leg ham that Will always bought. Preparing her own sandwich, and then cutting small slices of the ham to feed to Buster quietly as the sandwich cooked and sizzled, Jo kept her ear out for the distinctive sounds of the activity happening upstairs. She bit down on her lip to herself as the hear of a cry of the curly-haired man’s name followed by the almost animalistic growl she knew anywhere.

Fishing the grilled cheese out of the pan and onto a plate, cutting Buster one last little slice of ham and then putting the rest of the items back in the fridge, Jo lent a hip against the kitchen island with her head tilted up towards the thuds and muffled moans she could hear from upstairs as she began thoughtfully chewing over her belated dinner.

It was not unusual for any of them to come home to the other two enjoying some time alone, and it was not unusual for the third of their little family to join in at some point when Will would get home, or Grey would come back from a visit with his siblings or Amon, or Jo would get in from her own work at a time anticipated. It had even become something of a signal between them that if the bedroom door was left ajar or it was one of them spread out on the table or riding the other on the couch that the late comer was more than welcome to come and join. Even a sort of game of how long before they’d be walked in on - like when Jo would blow Will in the lounge room in full sight of the front door for when Grey would get home, or Grey would lay her out on the kitchen table and work her over with his tongue waiting for Will to get back from the morning dog walk, or Will would have Grey laid on the desk in the front room with legs around shoulders and the few fly fishing lures shoved off to the side when Jo’d come in and kick her boots off. The most risky had been when Jo’d sat on Grey’s lap on the porch swing, his foot rocking the seat for the feel of it while he’d had his fingers on her clit and Jo’s waved at Will’s car coming up the drive.

But those were times when the other was expected home at some point, and slowly biting into her sandwich and considering her options, Jo knew the door would be open upstairs but not in anticipation of her arrival but just the air flow on the sticky, humid night. She knew they weren’t aware she’d be home any time soon, she’d practically sworn as much to them, and she knew that this was their time and between them. Jo knew that she wasn’t technically invited to the party that was going on tonight, but as she heard a deep growl of the shadow’s name, she really wished she hadn’t RSVP’d that she’d be away and busy.

Chewing over the last of her sandwich and washing her hands from the grease in the kitchen tap, leaning down to give the crusts to the still begging rat terrier, Jo had reconciled to herself that she would stay downstairs, even possibly cuddle up with one of the bigger dogs on the couch for the night, rather than disturb the pair and was moving towards the lounge again, tugging her pony tail out with a sigh, when the needy voice - crying for more and ‘right there’ - bounced down to her and she found herself at the landing before she even realized what she had done.

Shaking her head, and looking down the stairs where Buster had trailed up a handful of stairs and was looking at her with an equally curious look, Jo flushed a little to herself as the clear noises of the men’s activity was that much louder up there than from in the kitchen. Padding quietly along the upper hallway, she could see the warm glow of the bedroom lamps on as well as the odd shadowy movement that would be either man’s movement, and found herself licking her lips unconciously as she grew closer. There was more she could tell now, and the sound of the bed’s springs creaking made her want to giggle a little at the clearly rough, fast pace that was being pushed onto them and just how much she knew how that felt with either of them.

As she reached the door, the blonde tilted her head slightly to the side, her eyes and top of her head poking around the edge of the door - only to gasp quietly to herself at the sight. No matter how many times she’d seen them, it never stopped being a secret and naughty thrill to her to see them together. To see from her position the powerful and muscled back of the empath, tan from the summer sun and shining with a thin sheen of sweat that had a few drips rolling down his back, and the paler, wiry legs of the other man wrapped around his waist, ankles crossed over the small of the back and covering the line where the tan faded to the almost as pale white of Will’s defined ass. Jo bit down on her lip as she shuffled slightly closer as quietly as possible, sliding so she could almost be inside the room, and gripped the door handle tight to stop from rushing over to touch the firm mass of muscle as she watched his hips jerk roughly in time with the quiet moans he was fucking out of the other man. As she slowly stepped into the room and trailed her hand off of the doorknob, Jo’s eyes eagerly took in the rest of the image as Will was pulled down tightly against the other by a hand threaded through his hair, Grey’s chest pushed up tightly towards the other and his face obscured but clearly flushed in pleasure and exhertion as he kissed along the tan, sweaty skin of the other’s neck.

Jo moved as quietly as possible towards the side of the bed curiously, before she stopped at the bright blue eyes opening and staring right back at her as her foot pressed down on the squeaky floorboard near the door. There was an immediate reaction, pale arms wrapping around the tan shoulders while the curly hair turned around to stare in surprise towards the doorway and her the same way she could see the surprise melting off of the shadow’s face into enjoyment as she could see the broad, tan hands gripping tightly onto the other in a protective move - hard and bruising as if trying to shift the other to hide him from the intruder - before they relaxed as Jo smiled and gave a tiny finger wave to the pair.

“Jo, what... what are you doing here?” Grey was the first one to speak, the words interjected and changing pitch as the other man returned to the rhythm they had had before upon recognizing the interloper, a quiet huff of a laugh coming from Will at the change of tone. “You weren’t-”

“I had some unexpected help, so I got home early.” Jo replied quietly moving towards the edge of the bed as she spoke, sinking onto the edge of the mattress beside the pair before stretching out along the bed on her side facing them, two fingers reaching out to stroke along the expanse of skin on display between the two of them for her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Interrupt?” The word was grunted out as Will’s hips moved harshly, his back bowing forward and he looked at her out the corner of his eye as he rested his head against the other man’s chest, lips brushing the skin in a quick kiss before that huff of a laugh came out again. “Well, the door was open-”

“For the breeze-” She quipped back, shifting a little closer and running her hand through the sweaty curls for a moment before Will rose back up and gripped harder onto the other’s hips, getting back to the pace from before her arrival with a groan from each man that made Jo lick her lips all over again at the sight of them. She trailed her fingers instead along the pale length of Grey’s ribs and stomach, over the slightly raised signs of gentle bite marks that trailed along him, before glancing up towards the other’s face and moving her hand away as he wrapped his own hand around the shadows erect and flushed cock at the tiny nod she got. “I don’t mean to-”

“Oh fuck,” Grey practically moaned the words out, cutting her off and as Jo tilted her head back to his own face, she was unsurprised to see his eyes darting quickly between her own face and the other man’s as he hands curled and twisted in the sheet beneath him. “Just.. fuck, it’s fine pretty one. It’s so fine.”

“Okay.” Jo replied, lifting herself up on an elbow as she watched the pair and the almost brutal pace that the empath was now working on - a phantom ache forming in her own hips as she thought about how good it felt when he’d do the same to her - before she smiled softly at the hand that reached out to run through her own mucky locks as Grey’s hand released the sheet and sought her out. They moved so fluidly together and Jo worried her lip between her teeth before releasing it with a pop as Will lent down and began to kiss the other deeply as he let out a groan and pulled back away again before dropping the grip on the other’s dick and reaching towards Jo’s hair in return with a quirk of his eyebrow. She looked in return before following the tug up towards his lips, kissing Will back gently before she felt the pressure on the back of her head pushing downwards as he released her lips from the kiss. Looking down towards the flushed look on Grey’s face as Will pressed a little harder on her head in suggestion, Jo let out an intruiged noise before adding, “Okay..”

The hand tangled in her hair guided her downwards, and as she placed her lips around the head of Grey’s dick as Will moved his hand from his own pumping along it to shift the other’s hips such that he could continue to hit that bundle of nerves that made the other whimper so nicely while giving her enough room to kiss and lick and bob in time at his other hand’s guidance, Jo let out a pleased hum as she ran her tongue along the length. There was another of those needy whimpers before she felt another hand in her waves as she bobbed further down, working over him and slickening the skin with her tongue and spit alike as she moved. One of her hands moved to wrap around the base, moving in time with her own actions as she could feel Grey being forced deeper into her mouth towards the back of her throat with each and every thrust of the other man into him.

Jo could hear the both of them, moaning and grunting, growling and letting out tiny whimpers of pleasure as each of them got more and more worked up, closer and closer to their climaxes as she followed the sharp tugs and pushes of the hands in her hair as they both reached that moment one after the other. She pulled away with a swallow quickly when Will groaned loudly and rolled back to the side just in time to watch him collapse heavily onto the equally spent shadow. Each man continued to pant and shudder through their aftermath, wrapped up in one another as their arms wrapped around one another and they just breathed through the feeling - pale fingers stroking gently across the tan back as the stayed that way. Jo wiped at her lips with the back of her fist as she rolled onto her stomach still watching them with a sigh, leaning her head down onto the pillow and smiling softly watching her men come back to themselves as they slowly separated gently.

This was what she liked most, she thought to herself as she watched Will roll over to the other side of the bed and begin to run his hands gently over Grey’s chest the same way Jo reached out to do as well, the idea of coming home to two beautiful men that loved her just as much as they loved one another. Leaning over, Jo pressed her lips against the puffy pink ones of the shadow, biting gently on his bottom lip before drawing back and looking at both of them slowly. Her voice was soft as she spoke, smile growing wider as she saw their do the same in return, “Hey boys. Did anyone miss me?”

[passionneat]

Elevate Your Living Space with Professional Cleaning Services: A Comprehensive Guide

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[sophiagreyson-blog]

Vincent Nygaard and Sophia Greyson, request the honor of your presences at their wedding celebration Saturday, August 4th, 2018. 

OOC: So Karen and I talked and we wanted to include anyone who wants to be involved in the wedding. Everyone is invited to attend and you are free to use the events below for plotting any threads that you would like. 

PHOTOS OF THE VENUE:  Here

VENUE: Greyson Family Estate

COLOR SCHEME: Navy and Blush

DRESS: HERE

WEDDING PARTY

BEST MAN: Nathaniel Greyson

MAID OF HONOR: Daralis Greyson

GROOMSMAN: Emmett Bryson, Colton DeForest, Jonathan Knight, & Arthur Grey

BRIDESMAIDS: Annabeth Newman, Violet Becker, Rory Siebert, & Tessa Hastings 

RING BEARER: Max Greyson

FLOWER GIRL: Darcy and Valarie Hastings and Lola the Dog

USHERS: Connor and Dash Hastings

OFFICIATING: Dominik Greyson

WHO GIVES THE BRIDE AWAY: Nathaniel Greyson & Dominik Greyson shows up just in time.

CAKE BY: Luna Shaw

Timeline of Events

Saturday, August 4th, 2018

3:00 PM First Look Photos 

5:00 PM Ceremony

5:45 PM Cocktail Hour

6:45 PM Dinner

7:30 PM First Dance where Celine Dion will be performing

7:45 PM to 1 AM Dance

Headcanons Karen and I developed about the day:

During the first look photos, a witch-induced storm causes a severe thunderstorm that threatens to stop the whole wedding.

Said storm also results in Sophia’s dress getting ruined when Lola the dog gets loose in the bridal suite and gets muddy paws all over the dress. 

Once the storm is stopped, everyone jumps in to fix things and by some semblance of a miracle, everything is picture perfect once more by the ceremony.

Sophia has a little bit of a break down over her dress. Vince hating to see her upset cuts his tie to try and even the score. Thankfully someone shows up with a replacement dress that is more than perfect. 

Despite the ceremony being back on track the planned officiant, Dash Hastings finds himself without his suit. Leaving the spot at the end of the aisle empty.

Dominik Greyson, who everyone expected to be a no-show, showed up at the last minute to walk his sister down the aisle alongside Nathaniel. When they all realized Dash was missing. Dominik stepped in. 

Everyone makes it to the ceremony and its a night of fun beneath the stars. Naturally, the chocolate fountain inspired a bit of steaking which nearly started a fire. Thankfully no one was harmed and the night continued. 

Things that are totally open for characters to claim if they’d like: (Comment on this post to claim first come first serve)

Who catches the boutique?:

Who brings Sophia the new dress?: 

Who’s streaking?: (unlimited)

[ayellowbirds]

Keshet Rewatches All of Scooby-Doo, Pt. 18: "Nowhere to Hyde"

("Scooby-Doo, Where Are You", Season 2 Episode 1. Original Airdate: 9/12/1970)

AKA, "The First One With a Song"

The episode opens on a nighttime view of the "Movart Collection", a display of expensive jewelry highlighting large gemstones. At the window, a ghoulish face appears, casing the joint. He slides open the window, steals a single enormous pendant, effortlessly climbs down the wall, and makes his escape as a police officer catches sight:

THE GHOST OF HYDE!

So, that's one of the oddities we're dealing with, in this episode, in this world of Scooby-Doo. It's the convention of fictional worlds that other works of fiction are real within them; Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde is not a well-known novella by Robert Louis Stevenson, but a fact of history.

The scene cuts to a malt shop, where the Mystery Machine is parked, and the Ghost of Hyde opens the back doors and sneaks inside. Fred, that terrible driver, has no sense of security, and has left the van unlocked.

Meanwhile, the gang have just received their orders. Five double-fudge sundaes, one with a pickle on top for Shaggy. After Fred says that they enjoyed the magic show at the high school (mind, not a confirmation that they have been going to classes, but merely that they attended an event there), Scooby declares that he wants to demonstrate his own magic trick: a disappearing act where he swaps Shaggy's ice cream from its bowl and onto his own sundae, and eats it in one go.

I will remind you that chocolate is fatal for dogs. But Scooby is clearly something other than a dog, so i suppose that's okay. For whatever reason, Shaggy’s pickle-on-top is also consistently drawn as a pickled pepper, and i can’t decide whether that makes this more or less appetizing.

The gang wrap things up, and settle into the Mystery Machine, driving who-knows-where as Fred takes a “creepy shortcut”. Unfortunately, the heater is busted, so Scooby reaches back for a beach blanket...

...which happens to be the hiding place of the ghost. As he rears up with a ghastly grin, the gang flip out, and stop the van to run and hide as the creep makes his escape. Velma recognizes him from the papers as the Ghost of Hyde, and the gang follow him to an old house. Shaggy’s not bothered at all by the situation, no.

I’d say “you don’t know where those have been,” but you know exactly where those have been, and that makes this worse. Y’all just walked through a swamp.

A fall through a trap door puts the gang inside a laboratory belonging to one Dr. Jekyll, who enters and discovers them hiding. He explains that, after a test of a “vitamin formula you only have to take once in your life”, he started blacking out and awakening under circumstances that convinced him he was taking after his ancestor and turning into Mr. Hyde... the ghost of Mr. Hyde!

Danny Phantom, he ain’t.

The gang are convinced something’s fishy, because the mud on Dr. Jekyll’s shoes is dry, which makes no sense if he just transformed from the Ghost of Hyde, who was running through the marshlands near the house. The begin to investigate, with Shaggy and Scooby checking out the attic.

There’s a great gag where Scooby draws his paw across a particularly large web framed between some pieces of wood, and it produces a sound like the scales of a harp. Seconds later, Shaggy opens a “creepy old chest” to discover it’s full of live bats, though how they got in there will forever remain a mystery.

The bats are drawn even more adorably than usual. Investigating the rest of the chest’s contents suggests that “somebody around here must’ve been in show biz”, as it’s full of pieces of costumes. More investigation of the attic doesn’t go very far before the boys catch sight of a spooky shadow, and start to run around in a panic, trying different doors.

Scooby opens one to reveal... another, smaller door. Which hides another, behind which is yet another, which conceals one last tiny, tiny door.

A mouse exits the door on its hind legs, squeaks angrily at Scooby while shaking a fist, and slams the door behind. We don’t have time to process the utter absurdity of this comedic non-sequitur (by which i mean, it’s a completely random gag that does not flow organically from the characters or situation and feels shoehorned into the episode for the sake of slapstick, there wasn’t even a second door visible in earlier shots) before the shadow reappears, and Scooby and Shaggy huddle together in a trembling panic.

Except it’s only Helga, the housekeeper. She assumes they’re “friends of the doctor”, with an air of disdain in her surprisingly pleasant and youthful voice—for a cartoon of the era, the way she’s drawn and the name she’s given would suggest an older voice. Her voice actress, Susan Steward, would also be involved in the writing of several songs in episodes later this season.

Helga complains that the boys “have made a mess of the attic, just after I finished cleaning it,” and begins to dust.

In contrast with the mouse door, it’s a gag that flows from the situation and characters: Scooby and Shaggy’s unease with “creepy” environments, the decrepit appearance of the house, and the air of mystery all combine to make it amusing while also adding to the idea of Helga as a suspect.

Meanwhile, the rest of the gang have found something in the fireplace, a scrap of old newspaper that it looked like someone was trying to burn.

To be honest, while this makes Helga’s youthful, teen-like voice all the more dissonant, i want to draw your attention to the smudged “writing” at the very bottom. Part of that looks like it could say, “ON MONDAY”, but there’s even more that is not recognizable as even fragments of Latin letters. There’s a triangle, and a sort of [-] shape. These sorts of glyphs are so typical of newspapers and other on-screen writing not meant to be read, that i have to wonder about who was responsible for them. Was there a standard set of non-letters, or was it made up as they went along?

While Fred, Daphne, and Velma wonder about why someone who specializes in unassisted climbing of walls would be working as a maid in a place like this, the boys are busy in the Doctor’s library.

The episode does a lot to convince you that Helga is the Ghost of Hyde, but let’s be honest, that bookshelf settles Dr. Jekyll as the culprit without a doubt. We see books on Snakes, Plastic Surgery, Ogres, Medicine, Lizards, Plato, Marquis de Saude (sic), Biology, Murders in the Rue Morgue (obscured above by Shaggy), Chemistry, Dracula Manual, a Hundred and One Ghosts and Ghouls, Vipers, History of Make-Up, Origin of Species, and Bats. So, various works of horror, books on stereotypically “creepy” animals, and several more on outright monsters as well as a couple on changing your appearance.

Shaggy doesn’t have time to contemplate the obvious clues the  background artists are providing, however, as the Ghost of Hyde is, well, hiding behind the first book he pulls. As they run and hide, the boys try a deception of hiding inside a broken television and playing at being actors on-screen, including a regrettable bit of Shaggy as a 19th century soldier and Scooby as a native complete with feathered headband. The deception doesn’t last, but their flight leads to another “clue”, as Velma insists that Hyde couldn’t have been Jekyll, since she and the others just saw him in his study—and Scooby finds a feather duster, pair of muddy shoes, and green jacket hidden on a fold-out ironing board in the basement.

As the rest of the gang follow the clues and investigate Helga’s room—finding a can of phosphorous paint (an absolutely nonsense “clue”, since the ghost never glows visibly) and a bottle of “knockout drops”—Shaggy waits outside and raids a bowl of fruit. Freddy, Velma, Daphne are convinced they’ve solved the mystery, but Shaggy interrupts...

...and the Ghost of Hyde snatches him from behind! While the gang hunt the house to rescue him, Shaggy finds himself strapped to a table in the basement, where the madly laughing Hyde gestures to a book to indicate he plans to use the Doctor’s chemicals to turn Shaggy into a frog. Or, as Shaggy puts it, “croak me”. 

He screams the series title in despair, and so begins the very first musical chase scene! “Recipe for My Love”, a performance credited to George A. Robertson, Jr., who also sang the new opening theme and was better-known for his musical career as Austin Roberts.

As Shaggy and Scooby crash back into the house, Freddy wonders why the Ghost was after Shaggy in the first place, when the rest of the gang was holding all the clues.

The others shrug it off, concluding that “the Ghost of Hyde is a 24-carat phony” (what????) and that they know who he really is.

A 24-carat phony? Did that line make sense in the Seventies?

The boys bait Hyde, luring him to pull apart a curtain, which reveals... another Ghost of Hyde! 

Fleeing, he encounters another, with an oddly high-pitched laugh, and a peculiarly petite one who offers a familiar-sounding “boo!” before he runs in terror, screaming about GHOSTS! Velma, Daphne, and Fred remove their Hyde masks in triumph as they watch the original run back towards the very same trap door that caught them when they first arrived, sending the Ghost of Hyde crashing down into...

THE FIRST TRAP THAT EVER WORKED RIGHT

But there’s still a twist. “If our calculations are right, it should be Helga, the housemaid,” Velma says, as smugly as possible

Well, you win some, you lose some.

Fred explains that the Doctor’s repeated failures in utter unscientific nonsense led him to turn to a life of crime, hastily coming up with the idea of framing his maid and coming up with fake clues while hiding the genuine ones—the suction cups he used for wall-crawling, which Helga wouldn’t have needed.

As the episode ends without commentary on the fact that, while this Dr. Jekyll faked his transformation, there was apparently an actual historic Mr. Hyde, the culprit sulks, his head hung in shame.

There will be no “meddling kids”. Will there ever?

(like what i’m doing here? It’s not what pays the bills, so i’d really appreciate it if you could send me a bit at my paypal.me or via my ko-fi. Click here to see more entries in this series of posts, or here to go in chronological order)

[noctispostmortem-blog]

The pupper lets himself in to the estate, fur drenched from the rain dripping onto the floor of the entry way. Fur that is roughly shaken off before muddy paws pace around to find a place to set down an umbrella that was in its jaws. Why is a wolf carrying an umbrella...? Anyway. He's making a mess.

|| @cadcnce ||

The strong scent of wet dog instantly greeted the Purebloods sensitive nose, the urge to crinkle it almost winning though she had managed to hold it back as she turned towards her maid. “Maiko, grab some towels and meet me at the entrance.” She stated, sliding the book back into its place on the shelf. Turning on her heel, she slipped out of the first-floor library, walking on light yet quick feet straight towards the front door.

As she exited the hall, ginger eyes landing upon the wolf and the mess that had become of her entrance as they grew a fraction wider at the sight. “Mr. Rechtur,” her voice wasn’t quite a calm as you’d typically hear from the vampire, a slight rise towards the end of his name. Even without the fact that she could tell it was him by his scent alone, she would have known it was him anyway. He was the only man with the nerve to invade her office and home in such a manner. “Do you see the mess you are making of my home?”

Her hand rose, hearing the sound of Maiko’s steps behind her as the maid placed the all-white towel, heated just as Minami always preferred it into her hand. As she approached, she kept her eyes on him, a perfectly manicured grabbing the umbrella from his jaws before holding it over her shoulder towards the maid. “Maiko, take care of this, please. And make sure that everyone knows to leave the entrance as it is for the night. A certain wolf shall be cleaning that up come morning. Isn’t that right, Mr. Rechtur?” 

She gave him a rather firm look, one that clearly stated there was no way he was getting out of it and that he’d best to accept his punishment and be done with it. But, the look only lasted for a moment before she unfolded the towel and actually began to dry him off herself as Maiko cleaned off the umbrella and place it in the holder by the front door. “The guest bedroom is still available to you, do try not to make as much of a mess in there as you did here and I shall allow you to keep your head, do we have an understanding?”

[peakyblinders1919]

Playing in the Mud

“I’m gonna kill him I swear,” you muttered as you let yourself into Michael’s study, him letting out a not so subtle sigh.

“Woah love, what’s Teddy done now?” He asked, putting down his pen and closing the book, knowing he wasn’t going to get much work done. He watched your eyes grow wide in bewilderment as you stopped in front of his desk.

“Oh god, not Teddy, Tommy. Look at what he just sent us to get done in a week.” You informed him while slamming the huge folder full of documents onto your husbands desk. He took it in his hands flipping through quickly.

“A week you said?” He asked with a shocked face.

“Mmhmm.” You sank into the chair, crossing your legs. “I don’t fucking get it. He knows we have lives outside of work?”

“Do we though?”

“Of course!” You spat angrily.

“Love, this is exactly what we signed up for when we told him we wanted the company.”

“I don’t know if I want it anymore Michael.”

“You’re just saying that cause your stressed.”

“Of course I’m fucking stress. That’s two weeks worth of work, three even and he wants it done in a week, not to mention I have other things to do; the laundry, cooking…” You rambled, just the thought of everything building up causing your heart beat to go faster.

“Babe, we have a maid for those things.” He reminded you.

“Yeah well… I want to be a good housewife too.” She pouted, causing Michael to smile.

“You can’t a good housewife and a business woman.”

“Oh yeah, watch me.” You said, getting up and walking towards him now. He watched you as you placed yourself on his desk right in front of him, careful not to mess up his papers.

“What are you doing?” He laughed.

“Being a good wife.” You said leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. His hands stayed around your waist while he positioned himself in-between your legs. “We both need to relive some stress, don’t you think so?” She smiled, her lips pressed to his ear, pecking it and his jaw with kisses.

“Yes…” he breathed, keeping you close to him. Things were got steamy fast, and his hands made their way under your skirt, his mouth now on your skin when you pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking into your eyes.

“Uh…where are the kids?”

“They’re probably playing or something. It’s fine.” He said, leaning back to press his hot lips to your tender skin.

“No, listen.” You said again, pulling away from him, leaving him dismantled. His eyes still wouldn’t leave you as you looked outside through the big windows of his office.

“Babe, I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.” You said, jumping off the desk and walking towards the windows. “I haven’t heard the dog in a while either.” You said, starting to get anxious. When you and Michael had to work from home, normally the kids wouldn’t live you two alone. Either Ella would go running into Michael’s office crying about how Teddy stole her toys and he’d have to stop working momentarily as she sat on his lap and he dried her tears or Teddy would come into yours asking to help and you’d plant him next to you giving him blank papers and pens so he could draw. Today was different.

“Has Ella come in here today?”

“No.”

“Or Teddy?”

“No.”

“Me either. Let’s go find them.” You said walking swiftly out the door Michael in tow.  They weren’t in their play room, living room or their bedrooms and that’s when you came to the kitchen, muddy paw prints on the floor.

“Guinness!” You heard Teddy chuckle from outside, Ella trying to say his name too but only managing (nickname).

“God, why’d we have to name the dog after beer?”

“I was drunk, sorry.” Michael said, reminding you he was there. You shook your head, opening the French doors to reveal Teddy, Ella, and Guinness rolling around and playing in the mud from the rainy day before.

“Mummy!”

“Daddy!” They yelled together as they saw you two standing there, trying to look somewhat mad but it was impossible when they looked so cute. Believe it or not, Michael was actually worse at dishing out rules and putting his foot down, one pout or tear and the kids had him wrapped around his finger.

“And what do you think you guys are doing?” You asked sternly.

“We were just playing!”

“And getting dirty.”

“It’s fun!” Ella yelled as Guinness nudged her with his head so she’d pet him.

“You’re gonna get the house all dirty and ahhh!” You screamed suddenly as Michael had picked you up and ran outside with you.

“Michael, what are you doing!” You said trying to fight him but realizing it was no use. He walked straight into the mud with them, not caring about getting his nice shoes and pants dirty. He spun you around and your laughter filled the air as the kids laughed to, trying to get to you both and hug you with their muddy hands. Finally he put you down, kissing you quickly, only pulling away when the kids wiggled their way in-between you. You watched Michael take Ella in to his arms and spin her around as Teddy and Guinness ran at your full speed, causing you to fall back into the mud. There was nothing but laughter and smiles filling the air as the continued to play, the stress sliding off their shoulders.

[stephanshortstories]

Feels and Feline

Dear Madam Price,

I regret to inform you that your cat has died. 

I had directed my housekeeper to carefully follow your instructions, as dictated by your previous letter, on how to best supervise your feline companion, but it has appeared unable to last the week without you. I know you must have several questions as to the circumstances of such tragedy, but let me assure you that we had done everything possible in our abilities to prevent this unfortunate situation. I shall explain to the best of my knowledge and personal inquiries on what preceding events have resulted in this unexpected death.

Since your departure to Bath, your cat has clawed the doors and ‘meowed’ itself about the house unceasingly, despite our very best attempts at consoling it. It leapt upon various front window sills, pawing at the glass or leering out onto the nothingness of the countryside for hours. When it came time for dinner, we had kindly filled its bowl with its instructed diet and placed the bowl in the corner of the dining room. We rang your bell, but the toffee-nosed thing took one sniff, and never again approached the bowl. Even after the maids chased the cat with the bowl, it refused to eat! This was just the beginning of the many issues we had to deal with.

The next morning, the maids attempted to take it out walking with the leash you had provided to us. (It appeared very large, so we took the liberty to trim and tighten it.) Your cat, no doubt either lazy, spoiled or simple ill-tempered, struggled viciously, scratching several of the maids on their hands and wrists; but we had finally won it over without harm to the creature itself. As the maids attempted to drag the frustrated feline outside, a stray dog leapt out of the bushes and began to bark at your cat; it did so with such aggression, that several footmen had to be called in order to scare the canine beast away. My dearest apologies, Madam Price! There had not been a wild dog on the premises of the estate in years. Your cat was no doubt traumatised by such events for we could never find it that time in the morning again. 

Over the next several days, I’m afraid your feline companion’s constitution became difficult to examine as it withdrew from our high social life and became more and more aloof. The only consistent signs of its continued ungracious presence were various knocked articles on the floor, furniture bathed in car hair, and claw marks on all the doors. Also, the stray muddy mutt would appear outside the house every now and again, barking at what we guess must have been the cat passing by one of the windows. (That dirty stray simply wouldn’t leave no matter how many times we chased it away!)

Despite its uncivilised mannerisms, your cat was still important to us. In fact, with its food untouched, we grew greatly concerned with its health; so much so that on the fifth day, a search party was organized and we began our one hour house expedition for it. Finally, when one of maids opened a cupboard, she found the cat snuggled among the clothes. She let out a scream that she had found it; only for the unappreciative beast to pounce on her face! The poor panicked maid flailed around for several minutes, while others, including yours truly, gathered in the room to see what had caused the commotion. I swear that I hadn’t the faintest idea what happened next. I was told that someone heroically attempted to smack the dreadful animal off only the hit the victimised maid herself. The cat, no doubt realising its game was up, released its iron grip from her head, dashed out the room, escaped out a door just when someone else entered.

By the time we went outside, we saw that the stray dog was running away with something in its teeth. No doubt, the foolish feline had made its last mistake while making sure my entire housing staff paid for it by seeing its ghastly end.

I, of course, offer my sincerest apologies and although no monetary amount can ever replace a most devoted and darling pet, I am assured that there must have be a better one anyway; I will cover the cost of finding a more remarkable pet than this must have been to you and your family. 

No need to thank me, 

Sir Adams.

Dear Sir Adams, 

My pet was the dog. I have no idea where you had gotten the cat. 

Sincerely,

Madam Price.

[sunriseoverastorea]

Flashback!

Ascalon was just as beautiful as she imagined. That was perhaps the one thing that held up to expectations, that Rajya hadn’t veiled in rose-tinted idealism. Marea would go for walks outside the city walls, sticking close to her new home, even the gentle crunch of leaves beneath her feet seeming too loud against the peace of the countryside. She knew that not too far off there was fighting, right at that moment against ogres, creatures which Rajya had so aptly illustrated for her using rocks, thrown at her apartment, that had since lodged in the roof gutter. The maid across the alley was also cleaning out the gutters that day, and had quite the scowl to give Rajya, easily tall enough to do the job with just a swipe of her paw. 

Marea swallows her smile at the memory. This is where she wanted to go, where an Ebonhawke couple will pay her for menial labor. She can’t go back. She must prove that she is right–that Rajya had nothing to fear, no reason to keep her from seeing the world herself. Why wouldn’t she want her to see it, with the way she described it? A fantastical place, of endless adventure and discovery. One week ago, Marea had never seen a forest, and now a forest of coppery leaves stretches for miles on before her, seemingly untouched by human hands. A deer trail here, initials in a tree there. She had never known a place such as this, so content and full, yet without the lives of humanity to clutter and abuse it. Humans, charr, or anyone, did not make Tyria, Tyria–if anything, it seemed to her that they shadowed its natural magnificence. 

She stops in her tracks, an unusual proliferation of flattened amber grasses before her. Suddenly wary, she follows the trampled trail, spidery fingers resting protectively on the hunting knife tied to her belt. Little protection against most predators, but, having never had to use it, she expects to dispatch a devourer or a griffon with an easy stab to the heart. After all, that is how it works, right? 

She comes to a small clearing, and as she steps into the golden glow of the high noon sun, she gags, an acrid stench hitting her like a wall. Hand clamping over her mouth, squinting against the sudden light, she looks up, at a pike in the center of the clearing. The remains of a charr droop from the hasty display, once lithe and small for her kind, now little more than a picked apart corpse with patches of muddied white fur, a centerpiece for flies to dance upon. At the base of the pike sits a slab of wood, a message carved upon it, but Marea doesn’t see it. She just stares up at the charr, rapt, hand slowly falling from her mouth, the stench of death making her eyes water. Only the second charr she has ever seen. Very different from Rajya. Yes, different. 

After a minute, she moves, languid, as if submerged beneath a rushing current. And she turns away, walking briskly from the clearing, the sound of twigs snapping and leaves crunching sharp underfoot. 

[passionneat]



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