#Rarest Dogs Ever

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

There are two types of Mech, the Analog, and the Linked.

Analog mechs are the far, far cheaper of the two. Much less specialized, and infinitely more common, able to be found not just in military use, but in Agricultural and Industrial use as well.

To pilot one, all you need it four limbs (Including prosthetics) and good senses, and to score well in the Simulators to get your license.

Analog is a bit of a misnomer, a holdover word from yesteryear, simply meaning "Less sophisticated."

Analog Mechs work by scanning the Brain Activity of the pilot, comparing it to the physical input of the controls, and deciding what to do from there. They're considered old fashioned and less reliable than Linked Mechs, but they're reliable enough for the work they do. They are more easily replaced and retrofitted for different tasks.

They have simpler AI, and to exit one, you simply take the helmet off and open the hatch.

Linked Mechs are a whole other can of worms.

Each and every Linked Mech is custom built and fitted to their pilot, from the heaviest weapon, to the smallest nut, no one is the same as the other.

Linked Mech are Physically plugged into their pilot's nervous system, and they act as one. It can take hours of Decompression and Disconnection to remove a Linked Pilot.

Linked Mechs are truly nothing without their pilots.

Linked Pilots are the most terrifying people you may ever meet.

Their skin is mottled from the Oxygenator-Coolant that runs in their veins, the plugs and ports too deeply entwined in their flesh and body to be removed without serious disruption to their faculties, hairless and sterile from their conditioning and actions when inside their vessel, and that's only the physical differences.

Depending on how long they've been a Linked Pilot, their mental capabilities are affected in different ways.

'Young' pilots are simply too wary - able to pick up on the most minute details, in all five senses.

Their Mechs are still machine.

'Moderate' pilots have some neurological and mental degradation in addition to what they had before. often confused or forgetful outside of their mech, but still very aware of their surroundings, if not their place in time.

Their Mechs act protective of them, like a dog to it's beloved owner.

'Old' Pilots have all the earlier issues, compounded and worsened, and sometimes confusing themself for their mech, even going so far as to entering refill and Refueling areas of the hangars.

Their Mechs act the same, often trying to reach their pilot's quarters and the Cafeteria.

They may refuse to separate at time, feeling more comfortable together than apart.

and then there are the 'Fused' the oldest and rarest caste of Linked Pilot and Mech.

The Pilot and The Mech fused absolutely, inseparable for Neurological, Psychological, and physical reasons.

They are the same. They are one. A perfect fusion of the Biological and Mechanical, Electrochemical Intelligence and the Fissile-Logic Personality, Mirroring each other with every breath and ventilation protocol.

And they are still people.

The Fused still need social interaction and entertainment. They still need variety and novelty, comfort. All the things anyone else would.

Fused are the least common, but are the least likely to die. Too perfectly combined, Too well accompanied.

The Three times a 'Fused' has been separated, The pilot Died, the Mech 'Bricked' itself, like a Jail-broke phone, no matter how it was done.

Fused are the most loyal, true, and caring of all pilots.

Few ever meet the 'Pilot,' the meat within the metal, but the few that do are those most trusted by the Fused person, as the Fused is showing you their beating heart.

If you earn one's trust, and are given this deep, grand honor, I only have one piece of advice.

Do. Not. Break. That. Trust.

[fatkish]

For the Rengoku demon hybrid story, could it involve Rengoku showing his demon form to reader? He’s nervous about showing it to her.

Demon Hybrid Rengoku x Reader

NSFW

You had always wanted to adopt a hybrid. Yet with how rare they were, they were hard to find. You had settled with getting a dog and headed to your nearest shelter to find one. When you entered the shelter, a nice lady welcomed you and you asked out of curiosity if they had any hybrids and to your surprise, she said they did. She lead you to the back where you found the most handsome man you’d ever seen. At least you would think he was a man if it weren’t for his fangs, cat like eyes, pointed ears and tail. You realized that this was a demon hybrid. One of the rarest kinds as well as the most difficult to care for due to their unpredictability.

Yet the way he smiled and greeted you made your heart melt. You looked to the side and saw the paper on the wall with information on him. His name was Kyojuro and he had been here for almost an entire year. It said that he had been returned multiple times which broke your heart yet gave you hope. “Hello Kyojuro, how are you?” You asked him, in hopes that he understood you. “I am well!” He nearly shouted. It did say on his paper that he was slightly deaf. He just smiled at you and your heart melted. You turned to the lady and asked to adopt him. She lead you back to the front to sign some papers while another worker gathered him and brought him to the front.

Once he was brought up front, you smiled at him but frowned slightly upon seeing the leash attached to his collar. After signing the last of the papers, you took the leash from the worker and left the facility with your new hybrid. You walked through the parking lot to your car and helped Kyojuro get in and made sure to buckle him in befor getting in and buckling yourself. You turned the car on and drove out of the parking lot and drove home. “So Kyojuro, is there anything you need before we go home? Do you want to get anything to eat or need anything?”

You looked at the smile on his face as it never wavered. “No master! There is nothing I need” he stated. You looked at him and decided that you would order some stuff online for him. You drove up to a fast food drive through and ordered food for the both of you. You ordered three burgers, two medium fries, two 10 piece chicken nuggets and two large lemonades. You paid and got the food and handed the bags to Kyojuro and put the lemonades in the cup holders before driving home.

When you got home you lead him into your apartment and got him situated before setting the food out for him. “Alright, dig in.” You told him. He only began eating after you did but you quickly found out that he has a rather large appetite. “Kyojuro, I’m sorry but you’re going to have to sleep on the couch tonight, I wasn’t expecting you so I don’t really have anything set up for you, but this weekend we can go and get you what you need. I’m going to order some stuff online for you so that should at least help. Tomorrow we’ll go grocery shopping” you informed Kyojuro who only smiled at you.

After getting him tucked in and ready for bed, you said goodnight to him before going to bed yourself. The next morning you made breakfast with Kyojuro’s help and after that you had him help you move things around so that you could turn your office into his bedroom. You moved your home office to a corner in the living room. You’re a professional programmer, companies pay you to program things for them so you work from home. You found out that Kyojuro prefers to sleep in a nest of blankets instead of on a normal bed. You bought him clothes and toiletries as well as sweet potatoes since you found out that they were his favorite.

Throughout the next few weeks you would work during the day and you got along and got to know Kyojuro better. You had learned of his habits and got used to them. Apparently most people couldn’t afford to keep up with his appetite but your job pays well so your all set. One day, you had finished your work and found that Kyojuro seemed to be rather distracted. His demeanor changed and you had noticed it for a few days. You were starting to get concerned so you asked him about it. “Hey Kyo? What’s wrong baby? Are you alright? I noticed that you’ve been acting different” you asked. Kyojuro looked at you and then looked away before sighing and answering.

“I have noticed that you are ovulating and it is rather distracting” he nervously said. You took a moment to process what he said but then you understood. “I’m so sorry Kyojuro” “there’s no need to be sorry!” He happily reassured you. You saw that he seemed very tense so you asked him why he was tense. “My previous female masters all would have me help them during ovulation and I would please them. But I would often reveal my true form during it and then they would fear me and reject me.” He explained. “Oh Kyojuro, I would never reject you.” You told him. He smiled but you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“Kyojuro, you don’t have to help me, only if you feel comfortable.” You tried to reassure him. A look of debate crossed his face as he seemed to be deep in thought, “Master, you have been very good to me, and if possible, I would like to be your mate.” He confessed. “However, if my natural form is displeasing to you then I understand.” You smiled at him and sat down on the couch beside him. “Kyojuro, I would love to be your mate, I want you, all of you” you told him as you cupped his cheek and pressed your foreheads together. “Very well then master, I will show you my true form, please know that I would never hurt you” he said. Kyojuro then closed his eyes and took a deep breath as his appearance began to change.

Horns grew from his head, as his canine teeth grew into sharp fangs, flame like markings appeared on his face and body, and the whites of his eyes turned black. His voice was slightly deeper, “do you still wish to be my mate?” He asked. He watched as you took in his appearance and looked him up and down, he then caught the scent of your arousal, much to his surprise. “Yes, please, please make me your mate, Kyojuro” you said. He was stunned, but he slowly smiled. “You know, there is no turning back from this, if I make you my mate, then we will be mates for life. There will be no undoing this, if I mate with you, I will mark you and it will bind us together, nothing will undo it except for death. You can never take another lover so long as I live, do you still wish to be my mate?” He asked.

After you said yes, Kyojuro growled and scooped you up in his arms, before taking you to his room. He walked in and laid you down in the center of his nest before slowly removing your clothes. He kissed you passionately, biting at your lips and deepening the kiss. As his hands explored your body, they moved to play with your breast as he kissed at your neck. His warm hands groped and palmed at your breast, squeezing them, he then pinched your nipples causing you to moan. One of his hands trailed down to play with your clit, he swirled his thumb around your bud as two of his fingers rubbed at your core.

Once his two fingers slipped into your wet channel, he began to scissor them and thrust his fingers inside you, as he moved to suck on one of your nipples. He fingered you as he scraped his fangs over your sensitive bud, suckling on it and pinching it between his teeth. He then inserted a third finger and wrapped his tail around you as you cried from the stimulation. You could feel his fingers reaching deep inside you as he played with your clit. You felt a knot deep inside you come unraveled when he hit a certain spot inside you. You moaned hard as you came on his fingers, then you watched as he pulled them out of you only to lick them clean.

He hummed as he savored your taste. His eyes then seemed to glow as he grabbed your thighs and moved down to eat you out. He hoisted your thighs over his shoulders and gripped your hips as he began to lap at your cunt. His tongue buried deep into you as he hummed and groaned, you whimpered as you squirmed, unable to escape the hot tongue and mouth that was devouring you. When he sucked your pearl into his mouth and hummed, you cried and bucked your hips. He then pushed three fingers into you and began to thrust them into you as he suckled oh your clit. You felt that knot begin to form again and you clutched onto the sheets that made up the nest as you came a second time. Kyojuro lapped up your slick and groaned. “Master, you taste absolutely delicious”

As you tried to catch your breath, Kyojuro prepared to take you. He pulled off his pants and rubbed his thick cock between your folds, covering it in your juices. He grabbed the base of his cock and positioned the head at your slit before slowly pushing in. His tail wrapped around one of your legs and he held your hips still as he slowly sank into you. He growled as your tight heat squeezed him, yet he never stopped until he was fully sheathed. Once he was fully buried inside you, he leaned down and kissed you on the lips, letting you adjust to his size. You had never felt so full, sure had used toys and had been with other men before, but nothing compared to the feeling of Kyojuro’s hot cock inside of you.

After a few moments, you wiggled your hips and felt little to no pain. “You can move now Kyojuro.” Kyojuro smiled as he pulled his hips back until only the tip was in, then he pushed right back in. He started with a slow pace, as he kissed and nipped at the skin between your shoulder and neck. As his pace slowly increased, one of his hands traveled up to grasp at your breast. The tip of his tail began to play with your clit as he sped up. Eventually he threw one of your legs over his shoulder, making him hit your g-spot with every thrust, each time it hit, your body spasmed and squeezed down on him. He growled as he began to speed up and bite at your neck. As his cock began to hit your cervix with each thrust you cried as you clawed at his back.

You felt that knot once more as you couldn’t even form words. You heard Kyojuro’s snarls as he pumped his hips and played with your clit. You cried as your final orgasm washed over you. You then felt a sharp slight pain in your neck as Kyojuro bit you. He then growled as he lapped at the blood and slammed his hips deep into you as he came. His hot sperm flooded into you, feeling almost like lava. As you slowly came down from your high, Kyojuro carefully laid you down. “Thank you, my mate, rest now, for we will be back at it once you’ve regained your strength. I fully intend to breed you and fill you with my children. I will go get us something to eat and drink, once I am back we will continue. My beloved mate.” Kyojuro cooed as he gently caressed your cheek. He then got up and left. This would prove to be a long, long night.

[genshin-side-piece]

Love Me Tender

Warnings: Yandere Content, Dark themes, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, Implied Stalking, Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Touching, Sexual themes, not smut (sorry),Not Fluff, Uncomfortable themes, Angst, my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI

Maybe OOC for him? It's hard to say.

Neuvillette's favorite time to be with you is in the dead of night. He enjoys the days, in the sense that he enjoys being near you. Watching you from across the room did bring a sense of comfort from the knowledge that you were safe in his care, but that was all. He garnered no satisfaction in it, not when he ached to be so much closer to you than what he is allowed to be. You denied him that. Despite you being in his home, in his care, you denied him the right to be next to or close to you. He was only ever allowed to be near and even that had not come easily. It was the one concession you had made after doing all you could to avoid him.

In the past, outside of meals, you had always left the room the second he would appear. It was in vain of course. Neuvillette would follow you, like a loyal dog follows its master. His eyes fixed on your form, dutifully watching your every move. Room to room, hallway to hallway, until he finally cornered you in a space where you could not escape. From there he would take his appointed place near the door, keeping you where he wanted you until it was time to change for dinner or on the rarest of rare things, he allowed you to take dinner in your room before going to bed early. It had gone on from the day you had entered his house, lasting for months on end. You would run and he would chase. Oddly, he found it fun. The concept of chasing or hunting you awoke something dormant in him. An instinct that had long been buried due to its lack of use. It became a game between you, a battle of wills to see if he could trap you or if you could manage to get away. You never did of course. He had the upper hand when it came to his hunting grounds. If he wanted you in a particular room or to travel a specific path, he knew which keys to hide and which doors to lock beforehand to get you to go the way he intended. 

His favorite place to keep you was his study. Unlike the other spaces in his house, the study was on the smaller side. His desk dominated most of the space in the room, leaving either a small sofa or a chair beside him as your only two choices if you wished to sit. Any of the other options you had tried, like the corner that was furthest from him, were automatically dismissed. Seeing you was a luxury he could rarely afford. While he enjoyed his hunts, Neuvillette preferred not to waste what time he did have with you moving furniture every time he wished to see your face. His one insistence on the matter had been that you make a choice between resting by his side or the sofa. He had told you he didn’t have a preference of where, even though it was very clear he did. By his side was always preferable, though the thought of you sitting on the floor that first time awoke something that the gentleman in him tried its best to deny. Just the idea of you kneeling beside him was enough to make his c*ck stir. On the nights he didn’t come to your side, he laid awake, practically consumed by it. Your cheek grazing his thigh, his fingers combing their way through your silky hair, your contented little sigh as you rested your full weight against his leg. It was pathetic to think that fantasizing about the most basic forms of contact were enough to bring him to a swift orgasm, but here he was. After many months together, Neuvillette found himself so desperate for your acceptance, for your love, for your warmth that the mere mention of contact would cause him to make a mess of his hand. Maybe it was a good thing you always chose the sofa. If you did bring yourself to willingly be beside him or touch him, he might cum on the spot. 

He had time to work on that or at least that’s how he consoled himself as he cleaned himself up in the dark. The weather had been warm as of late. It had made maintaining a specific distance easy for you. He had to wonder if you would feel the same way once the weather turned cold. His office, like the rest of his house, did have a reputation for being drafty. Since you refused anything beyond the most basic of garments from him, it was only a matter of time before the cold got to you. What would you do then? Would you accept that as your appointed guardian he would have little choice but to punish you for your foolishness by holding you in his embrace as a means to warm you back up or would you suffer the chill for the sake of your own stubbornness?

The answer, to Neuvillette’s great surprise, was neither.

If his study was one of the coldest rooms, then outside of the bedrooms, the warmest place in the house was the drawing room. When the winter months came, the drawing room became a place of refuge for you since your keeper advised you that hiding in your bedroom was out of the question. Even if Neuvillette would happily cover you with blankets and furs should you ask, your pride decided you were better not to. You would rather freeze or in this instance, tolerate him being near you for the sake of staying warm. It had been a small victory for him. One that he relished every time he looked at you. From then on, you allowed him to sit in the same room as you, provided he stayed on his side. If he dared to get closer, he earned himself a scowl worthy of shearing the cliffs of Fontaine into the sea below. That’s if you looked at him at all. On the nicer days, your eyes were always fixed on something else, mainly the windows and the world beyond them.

Your present situation is not fair. He’s been made painfully aware of that through his own experiences with you. In general, Neuvillette understands that humans are meant to be free, or free within the limits that the laws of the land allow. The loss of that freedom should those laws be broken was to remind your kind of their place in this world. You, however, had broken no laws. At least none that were on the official books. In the eyes of Fontaine, you had been a model citizen, therefore you should be free. As far as Neuvillette’s own standards and rules were concerned, your behavior had been less than ideal. Hence his need to lock you away.

Neuvillette remembered the day or rather the circumstances that had caused him to clip your wings. He’d had you on schedule for sometime. You weren’t aware of it, but through his own manipulation of your life, you would wake at a certain time, eat at a certain time, work for a specific length, and finally report home at an appointed hour. Before his influence you had run around as you pleased. Your erratic behavior of running to and fro had made watching you from afar impossible. The schedule he slowly imposed upon you fixed all of that. You being at a specific place, at a specific time made things easier for the melusines to keep an eye on you and report in. Everything had been running rather smoothly, and Neuvillette found himself pleased with the outcome. You were where he wanted you, when he wanted you. Things were as low maintenance as they could be, until you decided to throw a wrench into the machine. 

He had been stuck at the opera for days, knee deep in an idiotic dispute. It was on that day, that you had decided to deviate from your normal routine. Thinking back on it, had things ended there and you had gotten back on track, nothing would have happened. In Neuvillette’s mind, one day's worth of deviation was tolerable. You took days off from time to time. It wasn’t too hard to pick up your routine on those days. You generally slept later or ate at different times, but there was one constant; you always kept yourself to the city. The melusines could find you without too much trouble. The only real inconvenience was that the daily reports about you were thrown off their schedule. He didn’t particularly care for it, but in this instance, it hadn’t mattered. This time, outside of one fact, the reports about what you ate, where you went, and who you spoke to couldn’t be made at all. How could they, when you had vanished without a trace?

There had been no warning, none of the usual signs that you were tired or stressed or in need of a rest. The day you had vanished started like all the others, the only difference was that it had begun with your bed being empty. The report that you hadn’t gone to work as you should didn’t reach him at the opera. Neither had any of the others regarding your lack of contact. Instead, the reports had been delivered, as instructed, to his office at the Palais Mermonia. Words like vanished, missing, and lost didn’t find him until he returned to the city two days later. At the time, he had believed you had been kidnapped. His own panic that you were missing had dismissed the concept that you had left of your own volition. The idea that you had decided to go away to the mountains for a few days seemed inconceivable to him. You hadn’t slipped your schedule while he had been distracted. You hadn’t taken one of the water taxis out of the city while no one was watching. No, in his own paranoid mind you hadn’t left, you had been kidnapped. Neuvillette had many enemies. Despite his own discretion regarding you, they must have gotten wind of you. That had to have been it. There was no other reason for the fact you hadn’t returned. You had been stolen. The very idea that you had been taken triggered something in him; something ancient, something primal. He needed to find you. He needed to hide you. He needed to protect you. Your part would be to comply with his wishes. Refusal was not an option. 

Neuvillette’s search for you was thorough. He scoured the countryside for you, searching above and below the surface for any sign of you or your abductors. No crevice of Fontaine was left untouched. No stone unturned, no ruin not inspected. It took him an additional three days to find you. When he did, the little house that you were staying in seemed anticlimactic. There were no guards nor was there any real fight. Just your utter confusion at the sight of the Chief Justice standing outside your door and Neuvillette’s solemn vow that he would never allow anything like this to happen again.

Even if it meant locking you away, your freedom could stand the sacrifice.

The contempt and rage that followed was something that took Neuvillette completely by surprise. He didn’t believe you possessed such strong emotions, but they were there. All it had taken was the cage door being locked shut to bring them to the surface. All he could do was listen as your cries and protestations lasted for days on end. Initially he had tried to calm you, calm your anger, but it had only made things worse. Stern or soft words didn't make a difference. You just continued to rage at him, so in turn he met you with silence. It wasn’t that he was insensitive to the situation, he knew taking your freedom wasn’t ideal. Where Neuvillette took issue was that he simply didn’t understand your reasons for being upset. The loss of freedom was unfortunate, but was it necessary. The schedule had been designed to keep you out of trouble. His motive in bringing you to his home was to keep you safe. You had deviated from one, so the solution was the other. Could you not see he was trying to help?

Even with his justifications though, it would be a lie to say that he didn’t feel guilty about what he had done. Your safety was of the utmost importance to him, but he desired nothing more than for you to be at peace with his decision. Neuvillette had brought you here for your own good. The world was a dangerous place and you, well you were far from safe in it. Your little disappearing act had shown him how incapable you were without him. That the schedule he had imposed upon you from afar was not enough. You needed a heavier hand to guide you, to keep you, to protect you. He knew you would be happier if you could be free, but that was no longer an option. Maybe that’s why he could never bring himself to be harsh with you. Neuvillette knows that on the surface, he could make your relationship be what he wanted it to be. Should his patience run much thinner, he could take a firm stance with you. He could apply force. It would be nothing for him to attach a leash to the invisible collar he made you wear and keep you at arm's length at all times. You could be bent, you could be broken, and most of all you could be rebuilt how he wanted you to be. Then, his dream for a life with you might be fulfilled. If he remade you how he wanted, you would smile at him like you do other things. He wouldn’t find himself envious of the sun, the music from the phonograph, the books you are permitted to read, and even the birds that play on the other side of the window. You wouldn’t love all of them more than you loved him.  He would be worthy of the smile he yearned for. The same smile he adored from afar and the same one that vanished the second you see him. His very soul shattered every time your lips fell into a thin line across your face, never failing to draw that same line across the room and his own heart.

That's what made the dead of night so special.

In the night, after sleep had claimed you, the hard line that you had drawn between you and he vanished. The darkness that consumed the world hid the truth of the entire situation perfectly. In those precious hours, he could pretend that you loved him. He could pretend that you understood his reasoning for his actions towards you. In his own mind, Neuvillette could make you accept that you were something delicate and rare. That you were unable to guard yourself from a world so keen to harm you. That you needed him to help you. He had imagined your gratitude a thousand times over. Decant thoughts of you thanking him for being your savior, of you falling into his arms, of your sweet lips on his, of your soft cries as he plunged his c*ck into you over and over.

It was untoward for him to think of you like that. He shouldn’t really. It was ungentlemanly to do so. But some things couldn’t be helped. When the night washed away the scowl that was reserved solely for him, Neuvillette found it all too easy to let his mind wander. He embraced the privilege of crossing the threshold of your bedroom and pretending that the smile you often wore in your sleep was for him. He could approach you without hesitation then. He could indulge himself in the feeling of your hair in between his fingers as he brushed it away from your face, the warmth of your skin as he ran his hands over the parts of your body that your nightgown or the heavy comforter refused to hide. He could work out his own frustrations by your side, his one hand fervently stroking his c*ck, while the other traced the lines of your thighs.

The entire charade was a ridiculous one. Something that in the cold reality of day he would dismiss as folly and nothing more. Logic, in this case, would always win out. You weren’t grateful to him. There was no way you ever would be. You didn’t understand his reasons for confining you. You would never understand his reasons. How could you? In your short life span, you had been blessed with peace. The world as you knew it hadn’t been torn asunder. You hadn’t witnessed the destruction of all you hold dear. If you had, perhaps you might share his view that you needed to be kept safe. Then, maybe Neuvillette wouldn’t have to reduce himself to being nothing more than a pathetic figure, pining for you in the dark.

Because god how he wanted you, how he needed you, how he loved you. On his worst days, when the burden of the nation was to the point that he felt the weight of it would crush him, he had you. His corner in the drawing room tied him over until the stars climbed high into the sky. Then, in the darkness of your bedroom, with only the moon light to serve as witness, Neuvillette could wrap himself in around you and wash his own worries away with the tears he spilled into your hair. Whispering a silent prayer that when the dawn came, perhaps today would be the day that you would see that he is yours. 

[aventurineswife]

can you do a christmas-centric fic with a dog-human hybrid gn!reader in which he gets them a new dog toy?

In the Spirit of the Season

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Dog-Human Hybrid!Reader, Winter Special, Fluff, Christmas , Gift-Giving, Companion Bond, Emotional Depth, Light Manipulation (Aventurine), Subtle Warmth (Sampo), Soft Moments.

Warnings: Mild manipulation, Slightly melancholic undertones in Aventurine's part but nothing major.

The holiday season was a rare moment of peace for Aventurine, a time when the ceaseless political games and high-stakes gambles paused, if only briefly. His lavish penthouse, perched high above the city, was decorated with the finest ornaments. A large, glittering tree stood in the corner, its branches adorned with a mix of gold and silver baubles, but the centerpiece was a peculiar one—a set of dog-themed ornaments scattered around the tree.

Aventurine sat by the window, the early evening glow casting a soft light over his features. His eyes flicked toward the canine hybrid standing in the middle of the room, tilting its head inquisitively. You, the dog-human hybrid, were the one he had rescued from the streets years ago. Over time, your loyalty and companionship had become one of the few things in his life that wasn't a game of manipulation. For all his calculating demeanor, you were one of the very few things he could genuinely care for.

"Are you still staring at that box?" he asked, his voice a soft, amused drawl as you eyed the gift box under the tree, your ears twitching with curiosity. Aventurine's lips curled into a knowing grin. "I suppose you're wondering if it's for you, hm?"

The hybrid nature of your being made it difficult for you to vocalize your excitement, but the gleam in your eyes spoke volumes. Aventurine chuckled and, with his usual flamboyance, walked over and kneeled before you, placing the box in your hands. "It's Christmas," he said, offering the gift with a dramatic flair, "and you've been such a good companion. I figured you deserve something a little special."

You eagerly ripped open the box, and inside was a new dog toy, a plush bone decorated with a mix of red and green fabric that seemed to shimmer in the soft lighting. It was a toy that, like you, had an air of elegance yet function—something that would entertain yet serve as a reminder of his love, masked in his usual complex way.

"Well?" he asked with feigned nonchalance, though there was a soft glint in his eyes. "Is it to your liking?"

You responded with a wag of your tail and an excited bark, your dog-like joy far more genuine than any of the high-society gambits he was used to. In that moment, Aventurine couldn’t help but smile, a smile that wasn't fake, that wasn't a mask for his true feelings. He knelt closer, ruffling your head affectionately, the sharp edges of his usual arrogance softened by the tender moment.

"It's strange," he mused aloud, watching you enjoy the toy, "how something so simple can make everything else feel... less important."

The night grew darker, the city lights below twinkling like stars. Aventurine leaned back in his chair, watching you happily play with your new toy. For all the high-stakes games he had played, for all the manipulations and betrayals, this moment with you—this simple moment of joy—felt like the rarest win of all.

Sampo had never been one for traditions. Christmas was just another excuse to indulge in a bit of frivolity, to make deals under the guise of festivity, and to fill his pockets with a few extra credits. But as he stood outside the door, the chilly winter air nipping at his skin, something was different.

The hybrid dog-human you were, loyal and affectionate, had always been an unexpected part of his life. A few years ago, you’d wandered into his life like a stray, and despite himself, Sampo had grown fond of you. Not in the way most would think, but in his own peculiar way—enough to keep you around, at least.

He knocked, smooth as ever, his usual grin plastered on his face. "I know, I know, you didn’t expect a visit from ol’ Sampo on Christmas Eve, but here I am," he called out, his voice warm and inviting. "Got something special for ya!"

When you opened the door, his eyes immediately landed on you—your dog ears perked up in surprise. Sampo held out a brightly wrapped package, tied with a flashy red ribbon. "For you, my friend. A little token of appreciation for being such a loyal... companion."

You sniffed the package, your eyes narrowing in suspicion as you could sense the usual cunning behind Sampo's antics. But curiosity got the better of you, and you gingerly took the gift from his hands.

Unwrapping the package revealed a colorful, squeaky ball—an odd gift, given Sampo's tendency to prefer more… elaborate schemes. It was, however, clearly chosen with some thought, and as you rolled it across the floor, you could feel the novelty of the gesture.

Sampo let out a light chuckle, his voice smooth. "It's got that squeaky thing, y'know, to keep you entertained. Thought you might like it. You’re always so serious, thought you could use something a little less... businesslike."

The grin on his face betrayed his attempt at playing it cool, but there was a subtle warmth in his eyes as he watched you chase after the ball. For all his self-serving nature, this small act of kindness felt oddly genuine.

"Don’t get used to it," he added with a wink, his mischievous smile returning. "I’m not in the business of giving away free gifts, but hey, consider it a special deal—just for you."

You pounced on the ball, your tail wagging happily as Sampo leaned against the doorframe, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He would never admit it aloud, but in this moment, surrounded by the quiet of Christmas, there was something comforting about seeing you so happy. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't all about profit. Maybe, there was a little more to the season than Sampo was willing to acknowledge.

As you rolled the ball back toward him, Sampo took a slow breath, the edges of his grin softening just a fraction. "Don’t get any ideas," he said with a playful tone. "But you're welcome."

And just like that, the holiday night felt a little less about the deals, and more about the simple joy of giving.

[goodluckclove]

Okay Clove. I've seen a lot of little snippets from Blind Trust and I rock with your writing style a ton. But what's the book actually about?? Something with magic in a contemporary setting ? Hot dogs are somehow involved ??

Geets, it's me, the person who never learned how to properly pitch their own writing! I'll give it a shot anyway. I have a pinned post on my blog that has the fancy synopsis I'll probably put on the back of the book, but I'm fresh from a nap and on my phone and Feeling Frisky so I'll try and take it a different way.

What is Blind Trust about?

Blind Trust is book one of the Songbird Elegies, and it takes place in a contemporary world where magic exists but isn't great. It's not bad in a cool, The Witcher sort of way. Most people only know about magic through The Academy, where anyone can enlist and learn how to tap into the source of magic itself. Which sounds cool until you consider the physical strain of even a minor spell, the fact that major spells can take massive amounts for studying and practice and still aren't that powerful, and how carrying a wand on your person at all times is not easy to do without looking and feeling like a dipshit. Essentially, the average Academic Witch is like an arrogant MFA student or so someone really into craft beer.

But then there is a certain, little-studied medical anomaly that creates birthrights, which are individuals born already tapped into the source of magic by design. They each have a single ability that they can do without a wand (or wand-shaped proxy), but it's nothing innately combative and is mainly used to help interact with society at large. This is because the Birthright Gene is seen exclusively in individuals who are either born with a severe hereditary, genetic, or developmental disability, or will develop one over the course of their life but I'm not supposed to talk about that yet.

Birthrights are often found in a few scattered witch towns, where they use their abilities to focus on social work and community outreach. People also call them genetic witches, but you'd be hard-pressed to get a birthright to call themselves a witch at all. They don't value magic at all in the same way Academics do, and primarily see their "gift" as a chronic illness to manage and accommodate for.

Birthrights and Academics have varying relationships depending on where you are and who you ask but I can't really get into that because in Blind Trust no one knows anything so you don't get to either.

Well, that's not true. There's a mutual understanding of the concept of soul bonds, which are lifelong connections formed between individuals born in the source of magic - though how much people actually retained about this varies. A soul bond is not unlike a karass in Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle, in that the people involved are cosmically entangled with each other in a very profound way.

They might be born to be companions, family, enemies, or lovers. The last possibility, called a Lover's Knot, is the rarest and is reserved as a way to contain birthrights who would otherwise be capable of reality-shattering degrees of power. Which nobody wants. Especially not a birthright.

Meet Edgar Gallows and Scott Skylark Kaufner. Scott is a birthright from a witch town and Edgar was born into an Academy in Louisiana, despite also being birthright.

At the start of Blind Trust Edgar has escaped his Academy for the time being and has established a ramshackle and pretty lonely life for himself in New Orleans. He never wants to touch a wand for the rest of his life, and his only hope is to be boring and safe and left alone forever.

Meanwhile, Scott has been having a real rough time. He's been wandering the country nonstop for years with an unfathomable cosmic horror feeding on his sanity and gradually eroding reality around him. Birthrights don't use their abilities often, but for some reason Scott can't turn his off, and they've been warped to the degree where he's been forced to manipulate everyone around him. He can't stop, though. The only thing that can make this stop is if he finds the other half of his Lover's Knot, who he now only remembers as a ghostly vision named Eddie.

Scott and Edgar meet in a dirty walk-in of a mid-tier, overpriced bar and restaurant. Stuff changes and continues to change. Magic is involved but it's not really about the magic.

It's asexual and romantic and soft and confused and frightening and frightened and tender and in book two Edgar eats a hot dog for four pages. It's a great book about love and devotion that's sensual but not at all sexual, because the Clove Gardener Pledge is that there is no sex depicted at any point in the series. It's a great series if you're coping with parental neglect and trauma and want to read a depiction of self-love through an unconventional romantic pairing.

Blind Trust. Buy it in June in paperback or ebook, or just ask me for it and I'll probably give it to you.

[iinterstellaarr]

say that again?

spencer reid x GN!reader

summary: it takes a lot to crack Dr. Spencer Reid but when face to face with the most attractive person hes’ ever seen it doesn’t take much to get him tripping over his own words

au: BARK BARK HES SO FINE anyway this is my first ever fic on tumblr so please show me mercy and give constructive criticism thanks

I fiddle with the stray piece of hair that fell across my forehead, tucking it back into place as I maneuver around the coffee shop, I smile at the barista who usually takes my order everyday and wait patiently for my drink to be made.

The cafe was unusually busy this morning, although that should be expected for a cold Saturday morning. Patrons looking for an alternative to standing out in the cold air. I smile slightly as the warm aroma of coffee wafted through the crowd of people, but my moment of temporary peace is interrupted as someone bumps into me rather harshly. I stumble slightly and turn around quickly to meet whoever just shoved me

“I am so… sorry.” A rather tall gentleman tucks a strand of long curly hair behind his ear as he stumbles through his apology. His expression was worried and his hands reached out slightly before snapping back to his sides

“Don’t worry about it..” I smile slightly at his nervous expression and pat down coat while I take note of his outfit. “Nice scarf, the purple compliments your skin tone” I smile gently as I take a bit of his long purple scarf between my fingers to feel the fabric

His eyes shoot down to where my hands are and they quickly look back up to my face where our eyes meet. He quickly shakes his head, reminding me of a dog for a second before he coughs slightly and blinks hard. It was like he was doing a full system reboot just to be able to talk to me

“Sorry, could you say that again..?” He looked back down at my hand as I pull it away from the soft scarf

“I was just saying your scarf was nice. It looks good with the whole ‘Harvard student meets librarian’ look you have going on” I smile slightly as his eyes widen at my compliment, Not sure whether he took it as one though. “And the purple adds to the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ moment”

“Thank you..! Purple was used to represent royalty through history, but.. uh, it’s more commonly associated with mystery or even magic so.. your idea isn’t too far off the mark.” He mumbled slightly and once he looked up from his hands and saw me smiling slightly, his hands fumbled with his hair and a small blush crept up his face “Sorry..”

“Don’t apologize! My favorite color is blue, and scientists have linked the color to a feeling of calmness.” His eyes light up slightly as I spoke, he seemed happy that someone was willing to not only listen to his rambling but add onto it

“Well, not just calmness but it also helps regulate your breathing and heart rate. In fact, a lot of office buildings use blue to encourage productivity and creativity.” He smiled while he talked and tucked his hands into his pockets “It’s also the rarest color to occur in nature. Bet you can’t name any blue foods.” My eyebrows knit together as I try to scramble my brain for a blue food

“Blueberries?” I giggle slightly as he points at his scarf

“Ah! Blueberries are purple. Misleadingly named, I know.” He smiled, seeming to have relaxed slightly

“Alright know-it-all, are you an artist or something?” I cross my arms while looking up at him with a sly smile

“No, just a bit of a genius” He joked slightly “I’m Spencer. Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“I’m Y/N” I jump slightly as my name is echoed back to me when the barista calls my name and calls Spencer’s almost immediately after. I watch his hands as he reaches for the pitch black coffee and I feel a bit embarrassed as I reach for the creamer with a splash of coffee I call a drink. We walk to the exit together and I wave slightly as we walk opposite directions

“I’ll see you around, genius” He laughs slightly and waves as well as I leave the cafe.

I hope I see him again soon..

AHH ok hi! my names molly nice to meet you :D this is not my first fic but my first time on tumblr so plz leave suggestions!!

[galtx]

GALTx eNews: October Is Greyhound Awareness Month!

October is Greyhound Awareness Month! We imagine most of our readers are fairly aware of Greyhounds and their quirky idiosyncrasies. But, do you ever have someone ask you about your Greyhounds and fumble for a quick response? We know we sometimes do, so here are some suggestions to help spread awareness this month:

When they aren’t sleeping, they are the fastest dog breed, reaching speeds of 45 miles per hour;

Most Greyhounds come with ear tattoos that provide information about their litter and birth date;

Greyhounds registered with the National Greyhound Association can trace their pedigree back generations to the 1800s in England;

They are the only dog breed mentioned in the Bible;

Greyhounds have a life expectancy of 12 to 14 years, longer than most large breeds;

Greyhounds come in 18 recognized colors and many variations of those colors, but gray is one of the rarest;

Greyhounds can see clearly for up to a kilometer (.6 of a mile), but might not notice a close by rabbit that isn’t moving;

Greyhounds’ blood chemistry is significantly different from other dog breeds; and

Most Greyhounds make great blood donors for other injured or sick dogs because they have a universal blood type.

Last but not least, Greyhounds still need to find forever homes. Visit our Available Greyhounds page today to see if your next best friend is waiting for you.

10/12/23

[koukaaa-descent]

bracken headcanon list part 2

i love yapping about weird creatures and making up history

The first Bracken to be discovered was captured by mistake by a researcher team and locked inside of the ship’s hull. Unfortunately, it perished after one of the researchers cut the power to the ship doors. An Eyeless Dog mistakenly lunged for it and mauled it until it dispersed into ash. Notably, the Eyeless Dog in question did not display any of the tame behaviors observed nowadays regarding Brackens.

The first Bracken ever discovered was named ‘Phoenix’, after an old myth that one of the researchers had recalled. The Bracken in question was rather birdlike—a subspecies of the more typical fungal Brackens most commonly seen nowadays. That its death resulted in black, sooty ash caused quite a ruckus for some time, as nobody had much of a clue as to what composed a Bracken in the first place at the time.

In the researchers’ (now) abandoned ship, there is a mural on the wall depicting Phoenix, made crudely with rudimentary paints, blood, and spray paint. It is not mythos. It is a memorial. Perhaps those researchers, too, found the beauty in it in spite of such terrible conditions. Delusion got to even the best of them all, out walking to their deaths together.

It is possible to actively coexist with a Bracken that was not raised, ‘domesticated’, or trained by anybody beforehand. You need only give it space, respect and display submissive behaviors and there is the large chance that it will simply ignore you. One researcher attempted this in the late 2350’s, spending two years living alongside an effectively wild Bracken and, in some cases, experiencing mutually beneficial interactions, such as the researcher unknowingly distracting the Bracken’s prey as it goes for the kill. Later, it had been noted that a chunk of viscerally shredded flesh had been deliberately left in an area that the researcher typically wandered.

Brackens do not tend to have active enemies, nor do they seek to antagonize others. Only ten cases have been documented wherein a Bracken had an explicitly hostile relationship with another species, or another of its kind. One of these cases is between a Bracken (nicknamed Echo by frivolous researchers) and an active Nutcracker (nicknamed Galileo by the person that used to own it), bereft of a parasite. The Nutcracker defended one section of the mansion the two were documented in, while the Bracken actively sought to get into said area. The entire conflict was likely begun because of the single corpse that the Bracken had dragged into a room, unknowing at the time of the Nutcracker that guarded the area. A researcher dedicated to documenting the interactions between them eventually recorded both of their deaths. ‘Echo’ was shot, while ‘Galileo’ had been rendered nonfunctional via damage.

The main researcher team that had discovered Brackens and had made a dozen more discoveries about them was titled ‘UMBRIS-15’. Each member perished to a single Bracken sometime during the 2400’s.

There are over twenty five subspecies of Bracken, only two of which are aquatic. There is one oddly peculiar subspecies which consumes metal, although it is the rarest.

Brackens do not reproduce sexually, asexually or otherwise, and thus do not have any of the anatomy required to do so. It is unknown why, specifically, they are born the way that they are born.

The entirety of a Bracken’s facial structure is akin to a solid, rough beak, even in subspecies which are more fragile. Only a select few of the species actually have any form of beak, mainly for ripping and tearing flesh off of carrion.

While not necessary, most Brackens enjoy basking in sunlight or being submerged in water. Whilst underwater, they tend to make a peculiar chattering sound, as if swiftly clicking and rattling at once in a higher tone.

“are you normal” NO!!!!! i just made all of these up on the spot. i don’t have any coherent thoughts nor do I have a linear thought process !!!!!!!

part one

[horseshoegirl]

Horseshoegirl's Masterlist

❗️Back so long as my mental health agrees with me.

❗️18+ minors DNI. Ageless and blank blogs are blocked without warning.

❗️Reposting fics, including designs, line breaks, banners or any graphic materials, including binding fics, is strictly forbidden without my written consent. Be a decent human being, and don't steal people's work.

❗️I write because I enjoy it. I post because I can. Anything that I might receive from posting is a gift. That being said, please leave your comments and reblogs if you want to (I understand if it's intimidating, scary, etc. Your feelings about it are valid! I don't write looking for notes; I do it cause I want someone to get something out of it). But I do ask if you would like to leave a comment, please do not let it be something you would not want yourself to read or get on a piece of writing that you wrote - if the opposite, I kindly ask you to back out and not say a word. Think and ask yourself, will I hurt someone with my words if I type this?

^ PSA ABOUT THAT: I don't tolerate hate. Never have. Never will. Nobody should have to suffer putting up with it or should be spreading it. If you send me that shit, anon or not, you will be blocked. Silence is an answer too, and you have no idea what someone is going through when you send in your awful comments. It might lead to the end of someone's life. Think about that for a second.

Being an Anon is a privilege. Abuse it? It's gone. And it's never coming back.

Damn Those Dog Tags

Your sister Ridley has passed away, leaving behind her ten-year-old daughter, Sadie. The Dagger Squad goes out of its way to ensure you and Sadie have people you can count on. Boring Saturday nights turned into game nights, rowdy dinners, and cheering events at Sadie’s soccer games. Any milestone or opportunity they want to be there. But the last to join the group is Hangman. The moment you met Jake Seresin, your heart screamed the cocky pilot was looking for a good time, not a long time. Deciding to keep him at a distance to protect your heart, Sadie has other ideas when she learns he was purposely left out.

Set Me Alight

When you agree, somewhat apprehensively, to a week-long camping trip courtesy of your best friend Nat, you end up irate to discover Jake Seresin is also on the guest list. He's everything you hate, everything you want to believe you hate. Because the day you met him, he said some things he could never take back. Not to mention his nickname for you grates on your every f-ing nerve. But when the two of you get stranded in the Washington wilderness, it's not just the elements or the creepy feeling you're being watched that has you feeling trapped, it's the emotional baggage too. Struggling to survive the wilderness is one thing, but navigating the labyrinth that is "Jake the asshole" is another beast altogether. Somehow, you've got to deal with both if you're gonna make it out of these woods in one piece.

Coming soon

In a universe where the ink on your wrist seals your fate, finding your soulmate is supposed to be one of the happiest moments of your life. For you, however, this joy is overshadowed by a hidden truth only unveiled in the rarest of circumstances; you are a second-chance soulmate. The secret, you may ask? Your existence, held hostage by fate until your soulmate, "Jake Hangman Sersin," loses his first match.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Way Down We Go

DTDT ONESHOT: Rooster knows he fucked up. Badly. Sadie kicking him out was the wake-up call he never knew he needed. With nowhere else to go, Bradley finds himself knocking on the front door of the last person he ever expected to turn to.

GreyWarden!JakeSeresin

DalishRouge!NatashaTrace

Templar!BradleyBradshaw

Inquisitor!JavyMachado

ChantryChancellor!RobertFloyd

AntivanCrow!MickeyGarcia

[snailfishingg]

Nao and Chouko! (Jjk ocs)

Also tiny dogjutsu kaisen ver. Of them, bc if im gonna make dog versions of all the jjk characters I might as well include the ones i made up in my head :] Chouko is a german shepherd, Nao is one of those lil whippet/greyhound type dogs

Anyways time to be cringe and happy and ramble about my ocs like a madman-

Their friendship is basically the classic case of “extrovert adopts introvert”, because as soon as Chouko saw this wimpy little worm of a boy she decided they had to be friends. Besties even- Unfortunately Nao’s situation is less of a “he’s just shy” and more of a “he’s scared of everyone all the time and just generally doesn’t know how to behave like a regular person” situation- its ok tho, she harasses him (lovingly) until he accepts her friendship and they become the MOST efficient two person team of their time when it comes to hunting down curses. Chouko learns that Nao is terribly afraid of smiling faces and why, Nao learns that Chouko was a boy once but got better learned she felt better as a girl. Both of them share a similar story of being shunned by their non-sorcerer families (both for being weird and “crazy”, and some other things-)

Tldr: they are besties who care each other 💥💥💥💥💥

Also some silly Chouko facts: she uses a kanabo and is generally a heavy hitter. I haven’t worked out her cursed technique yet unfortunately 💔 maybe i will someday idk. She has a motorcycle and was in a girls biker gang for a short time- now she’s just got a motorcycle and a cool outfit. She’s the one who did the silly hair loop things for Nao’s hair! She also helped him customize his uniform bc god knows he doesn’t understand that stuff. She and Nao aren’t the only students in their class, but they ARE the only two that get along (everyone else ((like,, 2 other ppl)) thinks Nao’s weird and creepy and Chouko’s pissed about it so she refuses to be nice to them).

They definitely go to a different school, but I imagine they’re first year students at the same time as like,, nanami and haibara. They probably wouldn’t ever meet any canon characters except for on the world’s rarest occasions (like,, big danger events n stuff like that lol), but I’d like to think that at the very least Chouko would get along with most of em. Nao, not so much bc he’s scared of. People. In general. With Chouko and a few others as the exceptions

[kittywritesfics]

and the spring day came at last

🐶puppy hybrid!jungkook x gangster!jimin

🏷️ in which mob boss jimin is seeking companionship and shelter hybrid jungkook has lost hope of ever finding a good home.

❗️references to gang violence perpetrated by jimin; hybrid mistreatment, specifically use of shock collars, though NOT perpetrated by jimin; hurt 'n' sad puppy boy koo but he eventually gets love ‘n’ care i promise <3

Romance always bloomed with the cherry blossoms, and Jimin was determined not to spend another spring alone.

It was difficult finding true companionship as a businessman who ran the underside of Seoul’s economy, but there truly was nothing that money could not buy and Jimin had long-since earned wealth in excess. Though expensive, a hybrid would be the perfect companion as they technically could never leave him and would be grateful for whatever shred of affection he managed to show.

When it came down to it, there really was no way Jimin could've gotten his hybrid anywhere other than Seoul's Second Chances. While he could easily adopt the rarest and best-trained breeds, there was something undeniably cruel to him about leaving sentient beings to wither away with the dying hope of being rehoused. Even he, with his bloody hands and cold reputation, could recognize that.

So there he was, the only customer in the huge shelter that opened after-hours for the CEO. Most of the hybrids were fast asleep in their tiny, cell-like rooms, but sniffling on the other side of door forty-three had him pausing. This was the only room without a window for potential adopters to peek through, and there was a strange red tag tied around the handle. This door had more locks secured to the outside than even the exotics' a few aisles back.

Jimin stopped walking.

"Oh! Mr. Park, sir, he’s nothing to consider. I can wake up some of the other hybrids if you'd like?" The owner said, noticing where his attention had drifted. The owner was human just as Jimin, but something about him was strongly reminiscent of a weasel. "We have some very well behaved Main Coons and Labradors just down the hall. Domestics are perfect for first-time owners."

If anything, his vague dissuasion had Jimin only further interested in what, who, lied beyond this door. Visions of a grizzly the size of Namjoon or a pit viper more poisonous than Yoongi flashed before his eyes, and he felt the intrigue growing.

"Tell me about this one," He ordered, pointing a ringed finger toward the mysterious door number forty-three.

The owner squirmed, obviously not liking where the conversation was headed.

"He’s a mutt, sir. A dog with no distinguishing characteristics other than his hostility. He’s a biter and will never be rehomed because of it. A very bad boy all around. We're keeping him here until the President finally passes the bill to put down dangerous hybrids. Now, if you'd like me to wake up—"

Jimin was a man who enjoyed challenges, and being denied one so blatantly did not sit well with him, nor did the clear lack of a second chance this unnamed hybrid was given. Wasn't that this shelter's whole brand? So what if the mutt was vicious; wasn't it their job to train it out of him?

Besides, maybe Jimin could make do with a mean beast of a hybrid. Most of his dealings were.... Less than savory and not exactly above board, so perhaps a guard dog would be the perfect replacement for Hoseok. He'd grown tired of seeing his good friend laying his life on the line for him everyday.

"I want to see this one," he said, an air of finality in his voice.

This was the tone he used when making offers no one could refuse, and the owner seemed to realize that. He nodded without another word, pulling a set of keys from his belt and a small remote out of his pocket. As he began unlocking an unnerving amount of bolts, the owner passed the remote to Jimin.

"You can press the red button for three seconds if he tries to bite, Mr. Park. I advise against any sudden movements or close contact, and there shouldn't be a problem. Knock when you're ready to come out," he explained quickly, as if he was ready for Jimin to take a look at the mutt and move on to a real sale.

What a prick. If he wasn't inches from the nameless, faceless hybrid that had captured his attention by reputation alone, Jimin would've decked him. That was saying something: the CEO didn't like to get his hands dirty; his rings were too expensive to bloody up. As soon as the heavy metal door creaked open, Jimin couldn't resist going inside, curiosity at an all time high.

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this.

The owner had shut him in with the supposed wild beast, but Jimin merely felt like he was in Namjoon's bedroom. It was monk-like with no decor or personal items like he'd seen in other rooms, but books were stacked high against the wall. His eyes caught on a few titles atop the piles, and he was confused to see the most boring assortment of texts possible. It was as if the hybrid's collection was intentionally devoid of anything that could be pleasurable or stimulating.

Other than the books, there was only a single mattress on the floor, so flat it was barely inches from the ground. Atop the mattress was the supposed aggressive, hopeless, bloodthirsty biter.

Two furry ears flopped across a tangled mess of dark hair, just visible from where the majority of the hybrid was cocooned in one of the standard issue blankets he'd noticed in every room. Large doe eyes peeked out at Jimin from a gap in the fabric, and the dark pools were sadder than any he'd ever seen before. Something like alarm and fear swirled within them, and as Jimin stepped further into the room, the blanket tightened around the small form perched atop the mattress. He looked like a child, a pup, and a terrified one at that.

"Hello," Jimin said evenly, allowing a rare ounce of kindness to warm his tone.

The hybrid made no move to speak, and, acting on impulse, Jimin sat down directly on the floor. His Brioni suit trousers had never touched anything as grimy as the cold tile of this hybrid's cell, but the act of ease was one made instinctively. Perhaps the little thing wouldn't tremor so violently if he wasn't being towered over.

"My name is Park Jimin, and I'm looking for a friend to come home with me," he explained politely when the silence had stretched too long.

The smile on his face was a foreign thing, but he knew from his mother's cooing that it made him look much softer. So he simply beamed at the unidentifiable mass on the bed, refusing to speak another word until the hybrid did. His intentions had to become clear when the room grew uncomfortably silent and he didn't move to break it.

The hybrid shuffled slightly, peering down at him with mistrust and a little bit of what looked like awe. Finally, a very timid voice sung out from beneath the bundles of fabric.

"Bad dogs can’t have friends, sir," he said, the words spoken in such a way that Jimin knew he was repeating something he'd been told before, maybe many times. The hurt tenor in his voice sent a pang straight through Jimin's heart of ice.

Jimin got the sense that this puppy wanted a friend very, very much.

At this, the smile Jimin had painted on his face dimmed. Ever so gently, he asked, "And why do you think you're a bad dog, hm? You sound rather polite to me."

The hybrid's eyes left him for the first time, peering down shamefully at the floor. For a moment, Jimin thought he wouldn't answer. They both knew he had been told about the hybrid’s history of biting, but for some reason, Jimin wanted to hear it from the pup himself. Someone so quiet and shy couldn't be a vicious creature like he'd been made out to be. It just wasn't adding up.

"Only bad dogs bite their owners," the dog mumbled softly, hastily adding, "sir" to the end of his confession.

Surprise jolted through Jimin's chest as he realized tears were rapidly welling up in the puppy’s dark eyes. Living with the brand of a bad dog was killing him, that much was obvious. Jimin could practically hear his heart break as he spoke. The man's instincts were rarely wrong, and Jimin's were telling him that this hybrid was a very good boy indeed.

"Why did you bite your owner?" He asked softly, trying his best to avoid sounding judgmental.

Though most of his face was still covered, Jimin could hear the pout in his voice as he said, "He pressed the button too much, sir."

Jimin didn't understand until the hybrid’s eyes flicked at the remote loosely held between his fingers, looking away quickly after like the sight alone hurt him. Still, Jimin didn't know what his words or the remote meant. He said as much, and the pup hesitated for a very long time. Those big eyes looked over every inch of his face for a few stretched moments before apparently finding what he was hoping for. What it was, Jimin hadn't a clue.

Jimin had seen men get their brains blown out more times than he cared to think about, but nothing had ever disturbed him more than the sight revealed to him when the hybrid unraveled himself from the blanket. The fabric pooled around his hips to unveil an oversized jumper drowning tense shoulders and clenched fists, but what really got his attention was the heavy black collar fastened around the pup’s slender throat. Unlike the other collars he'd seen on hybrids, this one had a small box on the side, and Jimin assumed it was responsible for the violently red and purple ring burned into the hybrid’s pale skin.

Jimin dropped the remote like it burned his fingers, and the hybrid flinched at the sound of it clattering against the floor.

They'd put an electric shocking collar on this little puppy boy, a device that was rarely used for the most feral of predators. If Jimin were anyone else, he would be sick or maybe cry. But he was Park Jimin, and all he wanted to do was burn down the world. Maybe he would, after his hybrid was safely holed up in his penthouse suite, far from any danger that could ever befall him again. Yes, that sounded like a grand idea; coming home to the sweet pup after tearing apart everyone who had ever mistreated a defenseless thing like him.

"I think I see now," he said quietly, and he did. He saw it all quite clearly. "You've been very polite when speaking to me, and I can see it in your eyes that you're a good puppy. It's your previous owner who was bad, and the man who runs this shelter is bad, too. Is that right? I don't think you have it in you to be a bad dog, baby."

He was right, of course, and, almost in disbelief, the hybrid affirmed his words with an eager nod. His black ears flapped with the movement and Jimin was hopelessly endeared. More tears spilled down the pup’s cheeks as he looked at Jimin like he was an angel sent from heavens he'd almost started to believe weren't real. How could the sheltered hybrid know that sitting before him was the devil himself? But from the way this puppy boy regarded Jimin, nothing could make him believe the actual, ugly truth.

The longer he stared, those tears turned into tiny rivulets trickling down his red cheeks. Jimin fought the urge to wipe them away, suspecting that he’d never let the poor thing go when they finally touched.

"Do you want to come home with me? You'll never have to wear a collar like that again. All you'll have to do is be the good puppy I know you are," Jimin said softly, almost crooning at the hybrid. "I'll take the best care of you. You'll be so happy and safe, forever."

Jimin was saying the words quite clearly, but they were foreign in his voice. Never before had he spoken so warmly to anyone, let alone a hybrid he'd met minutes ago. The fury he felt at the realization of these circumstances had given way to something strange and much more terrifying. An overwhelming sense of affection had gripped his heart when the boy nodded so desperately at his first question. He'd been treated so poorly, so unfairly, and yet he could still look with eyes that twinkled like stars; he looked that way at Jimin.

Yes, Jimin was determined for this to work out, and he always got what he wanted.

"Yes, sir, please. Please wanna go with you," he answered so quietly it was a mere whisper. The response was nearly drowned out by the sound of dull thumping just behind him, and as Jimin stood, he saw the long black tail wagging with excitement. It nearly sent him back to the floor, knees threatening to give out.

Fondness for the sweet little thing warmed his body so genuinely that it came as a shock. In the span of one short conversation, this hybrid had melted the icy shield around his heart and wiggled his way in. If he didn't step outside to get a grip on himself right then, Jimin knew he would do something irrational like sweep the puppy into a hug and murmur promises of all the good things to come.

"Good. I'd like that very much," Jimin said sincerely, understating just how overwhelming his want was. "And no more calling me sir, please. I'm your Jiminie, and you're my good puppy. Do you have another name you want me to call you?”

The puppy wiggled a little bit at the praise and said shyly, “My name’s Jungkookie, b-but I like it lots when—when you call me ‘good puppy.’”

The admission sent a pretty pink blush rising up to the pup’s cheeks, and Jimin hummed in satisfaction.

“Well, good puppy, pick out your favorite books; we're going home."

Jimin's promises were golden and even more rare because he never broke them. The hybrid smiled so brightly it nearly stole his breath, the utter joy emanating from him so pure and all because of him. Yes, they would stay like this forever. He was sure of it.

+

The shelter owner had quaked earlier at Jimin's no nonsense tone, but this low, ever so calm register was the one he truly should be afraid of. When Jimin grew unnervingly quiet, it was because he was beside himself with rage. This was the side of him that ran Seoul's underground with an iron fist and empty conscience. This was the man who ordered death and destruction like it was Sunday brunch. As he stood in the disorganized clutter of Second Chance's main office, Jimin was moments away from doing just that.

"I don't give a fuck about your bullshit sealed history policy. You'll give me the name of her previous owner, and you'll do it right goddamn now before I really grow impatient. You're lucky I haven’t had your neck snapped for putting that ugly fucking shocking contraption on her," Jimin seethed, monstrous anger biting in every syllable.

The last time he’d been this angry, his gang had laid siege over every outfit south of the Han; it was the start of Park Jimin’s terrible reign. The owner seemed to realize then that he was in grave danger.

Jimin had lied, though. The owner was already dead, and he had been since the moment Jimin laid eyes on his pup in that atrocious collar. The only reason the owner still breathed was because he was the only one here to take care of the hybrids for the night. Hoseok was under orders to see him disposed of the minute employees arrived the next morning; he'd texted the situation to his enforcer right after leaving his pup. Hoseok sent question mark emojis at the delay in wiping out the man who had mistreated the hybrid, but Jimin had his reasons. The thought of other creatures like his sweet boy left all alone broke the heart Jimin just remembered he had, so the owner would live for a few more hours.

But there was no reality in which he went unpunished for locking that shock collar on Park Jimin’s hybrid.

"Sir, I'm so sorry, sir. I'll get the file now. You have to understand, he nearly took off three of his fingers. We had to use precautions. Please don't–"

Jimin turned before he finished, not wanting to waste another moment with the scum. As he left the office, he called over his shoulder for the man to deliver the file to his driver. Hoseok would get a good look at him then, the man he’d make disappear in a few short hours. It was a familiar dance for his head enforcer; there wasn’t a hit that Jimin fulfilled without Hoseok having a hand in it.

The walk back to door number forty-three was relatively short, but Jimin appreciated the moment of silence to process this night.

When he entered Second Chances, he had prepared to leave with a tough companion to share his life with. Now, for the first time in a long time, he couldn't think straight because of a pretty face with doe eyes that looked at him like he hung the moon and each star. The thought of coming home to a place that wasn't empty and soulless delighted him more than he cared to admit, and if the puppy kept up the clear admiration he felt for the man, Jimin knew the ache that had grown like mold in his chest these past few years would heal very quickly.

Jimin would be better than he was before with something as sweet as Jungkookie in his life. It felt like spring had arrived in earnest for Jimin after years of cold winter, the gentle caress of affection an unfamiliar and welcome sensation in his heart.

💖💗💓💞💘💝🩷

hi!!! so here’s this… it’s a preview draft of one of the misc works I’ve had written for a long time and just decided to post. this is just the first part as sort of a drabble teaser… I’m going to post the full thing to ao3 eventually if y’all want to read the rest! lmk what you think via the message option.. I’m very curious 🙈

[saintspecial]

I thank god for making me crazy

God with a lowercase g, cause I’m a spiritual, divine led, universal energy, every persons manifestation is different kinda person. 

I thank god for making me crazy

And I thank her, for every bug eyed anxious moment, every chaotic manic moment, every deep & depressive, never ending moment, 

for all the delusions, all the heightened senses, & all the spurratic laughs that leave my lungs gasping

I thank god for making me crazy

I thank them for the impulsive arguments & the shoppers remorse, for the lack of patience & my habit to jump the gun

I thank god for making me crazy

For the complex hallucinations & distortions that LSD could never imitate

The nights I felt less alone because the dog I never adopted walked home with me

The spiders I spotted on my cookies that I shouldn’t be eating a whole row of anyways.

I thank god for making me crazy

I believe the universe has its ways to kept us in balance, & honestly it’s simpler to describe than wrap your head around before you’ve had pleasure of speaking to her, 

Two extreme fronts meet & dance through the air, twirling & spinning & singing & dancing , a performance you could never buy a ticket to, a summoning with the rarest oddities or a wonder of the world that will never fade but not seen to the naked eye.

And we sit and talk, a moment of silence following, probably a bit awkward & uncomfortable 

They tell me how I imitate them, let me know that I’ll never be able to sing both parts or feel at home with the distance between, attempting to entertain both cavernous ideas 

Then the sound, the loud booming unavoidable upheaval of dirt that had flown away & settled prior. 

With nothing left unturned, I give my best to insecurity, I give my attention to confusion, & I let grief overcome me.

Not necessarily over literal death, 

I find closure in funerals, the way of nature. 

But in the could be’s, the would be’s, the memories that feel invalidated when they never come back, never seeing someone again but knowing they took a part in growing you… the part that wants to love & gets really freaking good at talking in ~your~ love language, buying you your favorite road trip snacks before you’re even in the car or being the first person I’ve ever signed a lease with. 

Sometimes I wish you would come back… but I wonder if this kinda closure is more manageable than speaking reiterations of what I need you experience with me, forcing myself to believe ignorance over ignoring me. 

I do, still, and will thank god for making me crazy. 

[thegreatimpersonator]

fave and least fave lyrics and songs from TTPD so far?

favorites:

“All my mornings are Mondays stuck in an endless February” - Fortnight

“Every breath feels like rarest air when you're not sure if he wants to be there” - So Long, London

“And all at once, the ink bleeds, a con man sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme” - loml

“Dancing phantoms on the terrace, are they second-hand embarrassed that I can't get out of bed cause something counterfeit's dead?” - loml

“And I don't even want you back, I just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal” - the smallest man who ever lived

“It's hell on earth to be heavenly” - clara bow

“Beauty is a beast that roars, down on all fours, demanding "more"” - clara bow

“Old habits die screaming” - the black dog

“I changed into goddesses, villains, and fools, changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules, all to outrun my desertion of you” - chloe or sam or sophia or marcus

“I crashed into you, like so many wrecks do, too impaired by my youth to know what to do” - the black dog

“Our maladies were such we could not cure them and so a touch that was my birthright became foreign” - how did it end?

“Come one, come all, it's happenin' again, the empathetic hunger descends, we'll tell no one except all of our friends, we must know, how did it end?” - how did it end?

“We learned thе right steps to different dancеs” - how did it end?

“I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope, a greater woman wouldn't beg” - the prophecy

“The goddess of timing once found us beguiling, she said she was trying, Peter, was she lying?” - Peter

“ love's never lost when perspective is earned” - peter

least favorites:

"I was a functioning alcoholic til nobody noticed my new aesthetic" - fortnight

"you smokеd, then ate seven bars of chocolate, we declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist, I scratch your head, you fall asleep like a tattooed golden retriever" - ttpd

all of but daddy i love him, especially the line "I don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing"

"my friends all smell like weed or little babies" - florida

"You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me" - who's afraid of little old me

all of i can fix him

"I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day" - i can do it with a broken heart

"You said normal girls were boring but you were gone by the morning, you kicked out the stage lights, but you're still performing" - smallest man

all of the alchemy, especially the predicable/uncreative lines about games or football, and the line where she mocks people with drug addiction with "he jokes that it's heroin, but this time with an "E""

all of so high school, special shoutouts to "are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?" "You know how to ball, I know Aristotle" "Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto" "I'll drink what you think, and I'm high from smokin' your jokes all damn night"

"I'd say the 1830s but without all the racists" - hate it here

"When I picture my hometown, there's a bronze, spray-tanned statue of you and a plaque underneath it that threatens to push me down the stairs at our school" - thank u aimee

"Don't want money, just someone who wants my company" - the prophecy

"There's escape in escaping" - the bolter

[anitaawhitney]

Some of my 4 favourite lines in 'The Tortured Poets Department'

Fortnight

All of this to say, I hope you're okay But you're the reason And no one here's to blame But what about your quiet treason?

The Tortured Poets Department

But you're in self-sabotage mode Throwing spikes down on the road But I've seen this episode and still love the show Who else decodes you?

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Put me back on my shelf But first, pull the string And I'll tell you that he runs Because he loves me (He loves me)

Down Bad

In a field in my same old town That somehow seems so hollow now They'll say I'm nuts if I talk about The existence of you

So Long, London

And you say I abandoned the ship, but I was going down with it My white knuckle dying grip holding tight to your quiet resentment And my friends said it isn’t right to be scared Every day of a love affair, every breath feels like rarest air

But Daddy, I Love Him

I'd rather burn my whole life down Than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin' I'll tell you something about my good name It's mine alone to disgrace

Fresh Out The Slammer

Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter He was with her in dreams Gray and blue and fights and tunnels Handcuffed to the spell I was under

Florida!!!

Little did you know your home's really only A town you're just a guest in So you work your life away just to pay For a time-share down in Destin

Guilty as Sin?

I hadn't heard it in a while My boredom's bone-deep This cage was once just fine Am I allowed to cry?

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

So tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is? Then say they didn't do it to hurt me, but what if they did? I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

They shook their heads saying, "God, help her" when I told them he's my man

But your good lord didn't need to lift a finger I can fix him, no, really, I can (No, really, I can) Woah, maybe I can't

loml

What a bland goodbye The coward claimed he was a lion I'm combing through the braids of lies I'll never leave, never mind

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

I can hold my breath I've been doing it since he left I keep finding his things in drawers Crucial evidence, I didn't imagine the whole thing

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Were you a sleeper cell spy? In fifty years will all this be declassified? And you'll confess why you did it And I'll say, "Good riddance"

The Alchemy

Hey, you, what if I told you we'rе cool? That child's play back in school Is forgiven under my rule I haven't come around in so long

Clara Bow

Only when your girlish glow flickers just so Do they let you know It’s hell on Earth to be heavenly Them's the breaks, they don't come gently

The Black Dog

I am someone who until recent events You shared your secrets with And your location, you forgot to turn it off And so I watch as you walk

imgonnagetyouback

And I'll tell you one thing, honey I can take the upper hand and touch your body Flip the script and leave you like a dumb house party Or I might just love you 'til the end

The Albatross

"One less temptress, one less dagger to sharpen" Locked me up in towers But I'd visit in your dreams And they tried to warn you about me

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

I changed into goddesses, villains, and fools Changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules All to outrun my desertion of you And you just watched it

How Did It End

Guess who we ran into at the shops? Walking in circles like she was lost Didn't you hear? They called it all off

So High School

Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me It's just a game, but really I'm bettin' on all three for us two Get my car door, isn't that sweet?

I Hate It Here

Secret gardens in my mind People need a key to get to The only one is mine I read about it in a book when I was a precocious child

thanK you aIMee

And it wasn't a fair fight, or a clean kill Each time that Aimee stomped across my grave And then she wrote headlines In the local paper, laughing at each baby step I'd take

I Look in People’s Windows

I look in people’s windows In case you’re at their table What if your eyes looked up and met mine One more time

The Prophecy

Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen A greater woman stays cool But I howl like a wolf at the moon And I look unstable

Cassandra

They all said nothing Blood’s thick but nothing like a payroll Bet they never spared a prayer for my soul You can mark my words that I said it first

Peter

Once found us beguiling She said she was trying Peter, was she lying? My ribs get the feeling she did

The Bolter

But as she was leaving It felt like breathing All her fuckin' lives Flashed before her eyes

Robin

The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean You’ll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline But now, we’ll curtail your curiosity In sweetness

The Manuscript

The only thing that’s left is the manuscript One last souvenir from my trip to your shores Now and then I re-read the manuscript But the story isn’t mine anymore

[batwake]

Losing Dogs - yoshimiri

separation of church and state? i think they should kiss actually.

this is the rarest rare pair ive ever posted so hopefully tumblr will help me find the target audience here

summary: After the Chainsaw Man church’s failed massacre involving the Weapon Humans, Yoshida is tasked with interrogating Sword Man. (They're more alike than one would expect.)

tags: canon compliant, canon typical violence, blood drinking, memory loss, yoshida being a freak

you can read it here

[veryunofskylanderspages]

The objectively rarest Skylander is a variant of Hot Dog named "Gamer Hot Dog" which was intended to be a cross promotion with Mountain Dew. The promotion was ultimately cancelled as many Toys For Bob employees were found to be privately expressing their distaste for the soft drink. Only one figure of Gamer Hot Dog was ever produced and its location is uncertain.