#about beagle size too

[snowflake-sage]

Say hello to Gumdrop! An alt doggy sona :>

[madaboutmunson]

Perfectly P-awesome

For Stranger Things Writer’s Guild Daily Prompt

‘Daddy’

Summary: Drabble of Steddie at the dog rescue

Word Count: 700

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“Eddie, this was a mistake,” Steve whispered out the corner of his mouth, as they walked between the enclosures.

“No it wasn’t, my love. You’re just upset we can’t take them all,” Eddie replied in a whispered sing-song tone. He looked smug, and he had every right to, because he knew his boyfriend, and he knew he was correct.

Steve channelled his annoyance into a grumble as he avoided eye contact with the dogs they passed by.

“Imagine what a wonderful thing we’ll be doing, giving one of these sweet things a new home,” Eddie encouraged swooping into his side and linking their arms, “A new leash of life, if you will,” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows and stifled a laugh.

Steve rolled his eyes but the smile he was wrestling to hide became too obvious. He sighed, “We don’t have the space.”

Eddie made an incorrect buzzer noise, “Wrong! We had three whole humans in that apartment, a dog is smaller than a human.”

“Ok well are you gonna walk them every day?” Steve said, putting one hand on his hip.

Eddie pouted, “But baby, you go for a jog or run every morning, if you took the dog you’d have some sort of protection, when you’re out on your own.”

Steve was about to say no and stopped in his tracks, “Ok, alright,” he said throwing his hands up, “A few conditions. You join me on morning walks and you can walk the dog. The dog cannot be so big it takes up half the sofa. It must be a mixed breed, and no puppies! You got that?”

“Yessss!” Eddie hopped and punched the air making his wallet chain jangle. With a wild look in his eyes he grabbed Steve’s arm and yanked him along behind him at top speed.

“Eddie, what the hell, calm down! Where are you dragging me?” Steve complained as they nearly pushed past several families and couples until Eddie came to a sudden halt and Steve crashed into his side.

Eddie, completely unaffected by a half speed Steve crashing into him, points at the enclosure.

“This is the one, babe,” Eddie’s smile was huge as he rocked on his heels.

Steve sighed and wondered what kind of hell beast Eddie had picked out. He took the plunge and stepped forward to look at the dog.

Steve looked at the creature behind the cage door.

This wasn’t a dog. This was some kind of gremlin muppet from outer space.

Its ears stuck out like the little green funny guy from Star Wars. Its dark fur was patchy in places but generally short and wiry apart from on top of its head where it had an accidental mohawk. Its lower jaw jutted to the side giving it half an underbite and it was about the size of a Beagle. It had an eyepatch over one eye, a missing leg and a tail with an almost right angled kink in it.

“See, Daddy follows all your rules, aaaand,” Eddie pouted his lips and clasped his hands together, “He weally weally needs a home,” he said, with his own biggest puppy dog eyes.

Steve put up a finger, “What did you just call him?”

“Daddy,” Eddie repeated and the creature from the depths of hell replied with a yip. Eddie crouched down to the door at the response, “Who’s a good boy? It’s Daddy isn’t it? Daddy’s a good boy!”

Steve didn’t particularly want this walking nightmare fuel in his home, or to shout Daddy at something in the park, but when Eddie looked up at him with such joy, he rolled his eyes and sighed, and went to look at the information sheet.

Steve realised the huge mistake he’d made by reading this. This dog was a hero, a loyal pet, and was only in here because his owner passed away and no one would take him in. Not only that, but he was an old dog. He knew right then he couldn’t leave him here. He was coming home with them

Steve felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned to meet Eddie’s compassionate expression, “So is he gonna be a Munson or a Harrington?”

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

@leonardalphachurch ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE (in reference to this post)

Donut thinks his fursona is a red wolf, all handsome charm and roguish double’o’donut vibe but NO he’s a collie to me, specifically a rough/scots collie— he’s pretty he’s fluffy, he does good work but theres nothing behind those eyes affectionately. Also he likes to be told when he’s a good boy DOING A GOOD JOB

Grif… would not make a fursona for himself, but I think Kai makes one for him a-la garfield (fat orange cat) and he appreciates the Iconic humor of it at least and u know what i do think kai is right in the cat aspect but more maine coon less garfield (still fat tho /pos)- the kind of big lazy cat that make you do a double take bc like is that a big house cat or a bobcat, ya know?

Simmons does not Want a Fursona thank you very much he’s not Weird (tm) I'm telling you, he is a chihuahua. Puntsized ball of anxiety that bites and thinks its meaner than he is(but still pretty capable of being a mean little bastard, just,, not as big of one as he thinks)

Sarge Knows his fursona is a bald eagle. Bc its American. Patriotic! Sounds like a red hawk! Even better! He’s a pitbull— big brick of a head, mean reputation, but he’s a protective kind of caring at heart and u know he’s got that Iconic pittie grin

Lopez is hard, honestly, and if you asked him youd either get No Answer, or something thrown at you i think but like his fursona is like transformer mech bullshit that no one ever wants to draw and if you commissioned it you get like 20+ complex design additional charges because the rivets have to be 100% accurate and if they arent he would Know, its not even a fursona really at this point its just a cool mech body he wont ever build bc he doesnt trust anyone else to not fucking break it but emotionally its his fursona - the fursona I assign him is a remote control warthog, bc im sorry dude but i cannot give you a proper fursona to save my life my brain just refuses to do it so, goofy shit it is

SHEILA is, wonderfully, a sea turtle. Specifically i’m partial to a leatherback for her just for the scale factor alone but just the vibe in general of just,, seat turtle fits her idk how to describe it. In character, i do think she would misunderstand the assignment and just be like “oh! Im a Scorpion” bc thats the casual term for the M808B main battle tank in halo

Church(A), like simmons, REFUSES to even Consider it (epsilon considers it a Lot okay, theta’s got some cool design concepts but keep it on the dl bud) but i think he’s gotta be idog from the early 2000s. But like an edgy one the kind that were born of 12 yearolds traced over google images of the normal ones and recolored into Original Characters (i think their shape is based on beagles iirc??? Or labs), but yeah those things. If pressed, epsilon auto answers wolf but in that asshole way that sounds like he’s being a dick about it but no thats his actual answer

Caboose is a great dane. He’s just Great like that!! Yay! Friend shaped, really not used to being uhh mindful of his size and strength but loyal and protective ya know?? He's the only one who i think would correctly clock his own fursona on the first try

Tex would claim something badass like a tiger or something, but she’s like,,, a mockingbird :) i mean it IS the state bird of texas, and well... shes not a mockery of anything but she isnt the og either, ya know

Tucker claims a fox, because he’s sly and bitches Love foxes but to me?? Bluejay. Brightly colored, loud, mean little corvid asshole. Too damn clever for his own good- i would also maybe give him peacock or kingfisher if feeling more like,, flamboyant but he just feels very jay to me. maybe its the corvid bastard thing, or the bluejay in my backyard choosing the tree by my window as prime screaming spot for 6 am yelling for like a month but the vibe is there

Kai has so many furry characters. With the worst application of color theory known to man but somehow it works for her brand??? Sparkle dogs man, the woman is made for making sparkle dogs!! If i assign her cat to match grif, it'd specifically the kind of like bengal, this cat climbs walls kind of cat you know?? Zoomies all day every day! BUt i think more accurately to Kai as a person? Raccoon. Mischief and little grabby bastard hands and she would love it

Washington, if asked would shrug and say probably a cat bc u know, nine lives and all that- no. Im sorry cat wash truthers I respect cat wash, but nah Washington is a dog boy to me im sorry and specifically he’s a little Jack Russell terrier thats fast and vicious but man sometimes u gotta remember he’s like,,, he’s smaller than a cat man you gotta give him some help ya know?? Dont make him do it alone!!!

.......Or a horse i dont know how to elaborate on that one just,,, trust me

Carolina is oblivious to the concept of fursonas almost entirely, but she’s a greyhound and you know im right

Locus is genuinely the hardest one to place and i dont think he’d come up with a fursona for himself, but he gets assigned wolf by Donut i feel it, the whole lone wolf thing he has going and all during his redemption! Which honestly???? Maybe yeah? An argument could be made for another working dog (HELLO German Shepards my god) (context here: i had a german shepard/corgi mix, he was my lil guy, he was too damn smart for his own good and patrolled the back yard fence up until he couldnt keep his hips underneath himself anymore and then! He! kept! trying! So yes that does influence my input on german shepard locus) i just struggle to see locus as a dog???? Dogs are very high energy which -gestures to red team- but locus rarely has that same baseline energy i associate with dogs??? He’s hard to pin down and i’ve yet to manage it but im partial to something arboreal,,, the first thing that comes to mind on that train of thought is a binturong and i lost it imagining that so sure we'll go with that i have a lot of thoughts about locus

Felix wouldve loved the energy of being like the lucky cat with nine lives. I personally dont care for felix, but he would be that guy with like, its not a proper fursona bc he wouldnt b caught dead calling it that, but he has a fursona for scamming people and driving up the prices on auctions for no reason other than to fuck with people when he's bored. I subscribe to weasel/ferret Felix personally, specifically a yellow bellied weasel bc theres just,, honestly the name amuses me with the implications. He’s difficult to catch and handle, energetic and gets into shit no one wants him getting to. It fits

Doyle is a mouse, maybe MAYBE a rabbit, he doesnt know what fursonas are either but he just checks the mouse box for me personally,, very holdable, but skittish and might still bite you if u scare him bad enough

Dr Emily Grey does not have a fursona but she does think theyre neat and has let her patients all give her one, tho none of them agree on what she is. I think she's a shrike, specifically a great grey shrike! they're VICIOUS little birds, who dont look like much but they regularly hunt shit twice their size and are also known for impaling bugs on thorns and like, barbed wire?? theyre neat, and technically i think they count as corvids? clever little hunting machines

Kimball is definitely a german shepard tho like while im on the fence about it for Locus, there is no question about it for her she checks the boxes fits the vibe right down to the way she guards the new republic and chorus with her heart just under her sleeve

Sharkface. Shark. I mean….really. SPECIFICALLY THO a tiger shark tho, and he would absolutely be a dick if you implied a great white or a megalodon would be “better” bc no tiger sharks are exactly the kind of shark he should be thank you VERY much

thats everyone i have STRONG fursona assignment feelings for, and some are more flexible than others or more solid in some cases but YEAH! i think about this shit. a lot sidebar: i think the chorusans who know and are open about fursonas would probably use weird alien animals from chorus when picking them which makes this harder for them specifically bc the ones who would have fursonas arent limited to earth animals

all images are from the wiki pages for the animals! except for lopez. thats from the amazon page for the warthog

[izzyspussy]

So, if the dog motif is made into a more blatant metaphor, and we say Izzy is a dog bred for one thing, then trained for blood sport, then his owner suddenly quits dogfighting after becoming enamored with a newbie livestock rescue ranch owner and expects Izzy to immediately take to herding just because he tossed him in the enclosure with the sheep, and then the ranch owner gets cold feet and goes back to his high powered city businesswoman leaving the ranch and the sheep and Izzy's owner behind, and Izzy finally Gets herding and starts doing the job but only after the owner who had wanted him to in the first place has become the wolf/poacher/cliffdrop Izzy needs to protect his sheep from...

More info on these breed groups to help you pick which you think fits Izzy's personality best:

Herders* are easily distracted from tasks that aren't challenging enough but incredibly focused on activities that fit their instincts, attentive, energetic, sociable, eager to please, use barks and nips to make the animals in their charge move where they want (the inventors of "all bark no bite" - unless of course you are a predator in which case say goodbye to your carotid artery), and will do their jobs effectively with or without supervision. If you do not give them animals to herd, they will herd you. *I'm including livestock guardians here, as you might have sussed from the description, even though it's not their official classification. Personally, I think the instincts and (non-combat) temperaments are similar enough, and lots of breeds from both classes are often used for the other type of work or both. Listen, you're already humoring me, so just go with this too, okay? <3

Sporting dogs are not typically that sociable with other animals, have a very good memory, are devoted, loyal, eager to please, curious/adventurous, and resilient. They are highly trainable and can learn basically any trick or call, but will be anxious, distracted, and uncontrollable without clear and consistent direction.

Scent hounds, like the examples I listed, have exceptional stamina, endurance, and agility, are persistent, tenacious, and often will not quit even when told to until the job is done to their own satisfaction or they can't do it anymore. They are naturally gentle and patient, but can get loud and mean if they don't get enough alone time or breed appropriate work to do. They are also known for their pretty voices.

Working dogs are the type of smart and stubborn that makes them opinionated about the rules and commands they're given, to the point that they might choose to purposefully disobey, or even engage in malicious compliance. They are highly trainable and devoted, but they really make you earn their obedience and loyalty. If you are not at least as smart, competent, and confident as they are, you can't handle them - and they are not afraid to prove it.

Terriers are also smart and stubborn and will make you earn good behavior. They need consistency and are very territorial, very energetic, and equally persistent and unwilling to quit as hounds. They don't have a lot of patience and are emotionally/mentally sensitive, easy to frustrate or upset.

Companions are also territorial, intensely loyal, need a lot of attention and are likely to get jealous of other pets, babies, and new friends/partners. They don't have a lot of self-awareness, especially regarding their size (i.e. very large breeds that think they are lap dogs & very small breeds that will try to start something with much bigger animals). Maybe that last bit is more applicable to Con than Izzy lmao.

[lov3m3darling]

Friendship Bracelets (Howdy Pillar x Reader)

Heyy! So I wanna start trying to write some stuff for the other characters and I can't help but notice there's not NEARLY enough stuff written about Howdy! I mean look at him! HE IS PRECIOUS 🐛💚

Anyways, an idea just popped into my head! What if you were hanging out with Eddie and making some crafts and decided to make friendship bracelets for you and your bestest friends..? What could go wrong?

You guys are friends in this, but you do have a crush on each other💚

No warnings for this one and reader is gn of course 😊

💚🐛🧡🐛💚🐛🧡🐛💚🐛🧡🐛💚🐛🧡🐛💚

Making stuff with Eddie was one of your favorite things to do in The Neighborhood. It was how you managed stress and anxiety, plus it gave you a chance to make fun gifts for your friends!

Well...and Howdy, of course.

You did consider Howdy a friend, but lately you found yourself thinking about him a little too often and staring just a little too much when you'd go to help out at the Bugdega.

You'd tell each other jokes in between customers, he usually let you have snacks and such for free, and he was always fussing over you. He was very insistent about taking breaks and he never let you carry the heavy crates...

Come to think of it...it almost seemed like he liked you, too!

You shook those thoughts away just as quickly as they'd entered as Eddie held up the flower crown he'd been making.

"What do you think, (y/n)? More daisies? Less daisies? ...does Frank even LIKE daisies?!"

You gave him a knowing smile.

"I don't really think it matters, Ed. Frank is going to love it no matter what because it came from you"

Eddie blushed and smiled down at the crown.

"You're right...hey, how are those bracelets coming along?"

"Huh? Oh! ...oh dear"

It was then that you realized you'd made far too many. You were personalizing them for each neighbor, but because you spent so long thinking of Howdy, you'd accidentally made him 4 of them!

Eddie laughed and gave you the very same knowing smile you'd given him.

"Well...Howdy DOES have 4 arms. One for each! I'm sure he'll get a real kick out of that"

You hoped so, because if he questioned it, you'd die of embarrassment on the spot.

Glancing at the clock, you realized it was nearly time for your shift at the store, and you wanted to make sure everyone got their bracelets before you headed off.

You gave Eddie his on the way out. It was the same colors as his postman uniform, with a charm of a butterfly hanging right next to one of an envelope. He rolled his eyes.

"Gosh, wonder what that's supposed to mean"

"I don't know, but I think I accidentally put an envelope on Frank's bracelet too. Oopsies!"

You snickered and skipped out the door as he glared playfully after you.

Barnaby happened to be walking by, and you waved to him.

"Hey Barnaby! I made you something!"

He stopped and smiled at you.

"A present? For me?"

You nodded, holding out the colorful bracelet with a hotdog charm. His tail wagged as he slipped it over his paw.

"Aw, shucks (y/n), ain't this just perfect? And just the right size for a little guy like me!"

You shook your head and laughed before Barnaby picked you up in a big bear (beagle) hug.

"Hey, have you seen Wally? I made him one too"

"Sorry, kid. Haven't seen him all day"

Suddenly a swirl of blue hair popped up over Barnaby's shoulder.

"Uh, Barny?" you said, pointing to it.

"Huh? I got a bug on me or something?"

He turned around so you could check, and there was Wally hanging onto Barnaby's back.

"Something like that. Wally, what are you doing?"

"Eh? Wally's back there?"

Wally smiled.

"Looks like I win, Barnaby"

A look of realization crossed Barnaby's face and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, that's right...we were playing hide and seek, huh? Fair enough, buddy, you win"

He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a nice red apple. Wally hopped down from Barnaby's back and took it, staring at it contently.

"Oh, you wanted to give me something (y/n)?"

"Ah, yes, I made you a friendship bracelet!"

You fished it out of your pocket and gave it to him. It was red and blue with an apple charm hanging from it. He took it, but seemed slightly confused.

"That's a very small apple"

"That's because it's not real, pal. You're supposed to wear it on your wrist" Barnaby explained.

Wally seemed to understand, and slipped it on.

Everyone else loved theirs too! Julie's nearly flew off from all the happy stimming she did when you gave it to her, and Frank said friendship bracelets were dumb but accepted it anyway (you're absolutely positive you saw them wearing it later on, along with Eddie's flower crown).

Eventually, only 4 remained and it was time to head to the Bugdega. Weirdly, you felt kind of...nervous? Flustered? Hard to say, but you sure were shaky when you walked in.

"Heya, (y/n)! Right on time as always!"

You smiled and grabbed your orange apron, tying it around your back and joining Howdy behind the counter.

"So, what's new?"

You looked down at your shoes anxiously and let out a nervous laugh.

"Well, actually I just came from Eddie's..."

"Ooh, craft time eh? What'd you make?"

"I made everyone friendship bracelets just for them...including you"

"Me? Golly, (y/n), you shouldn't have! Let's see it!"

You pulled them out of your pocket and held them up to him. You waited for him to laugh at you or ask why there were so many, but when you dared to sneak a look up at his face, it was bright red.

"4 of them..?"

"F-For each arm! S-See, this one has a caterpillar charm...and this one is a little shopping bag...and this one is a heart-"

A HEART?! You must have clipped that one on while you were daydreaming!

Your whole body flushed and you bit the inside of your cheek in anticipation.

A smile spread across his face slowly and he grabbed you up in a huge hug, all of his arms wrapping around you.

"I love them..."

Later on, as Howdy was stocking shelves, he looked down at them and smiled once more, hearts in his eyes and a happy sigh escaping his lips.

"They really are something..." he whispered to himself as he watched you wipe down the counter.

Maybe one day, he told himself, he would tell you how he felt...

But regardless, he never took them off

💚🐛🧡🐛💚🐛🧡🐛💚🐛🧡🐛💚🐛🧡🐛💚

Anyone else think Howdy would be a good dad? Idk he gives off dad vibes and he is quite large.

I trust him with my life tbh

ANYWAYYY hope ya'll like this 💚

[ninzied]

kiss me once 'cause you know

in which alex sort of moves in and they don't talk about what it means. or: a cakegate never happened and then they become friends and accidental roommates au. for @rwrbmovie and @rwrbsource's rwrbweek: day 6 | kiss also on ao3. ~2k.

Of all the things they’ve been to one another—sometimes-rivals, reluctant allies, tediously cordial seatmates at international events—Henry never thought that he and Alex would end up being something like friends.

And yet here they are:

Henry, living his little gay life as Pez calls it in Brooklyn, running an LGBTQ youth shelter that’s two blocks away from David’s favorite dog park—

And Alex, earning his law degree at NYU and, apparently, looking up numbers of erstwhile princes (he’d phoned the shelter first, much to Pez’s utter delight) and asking if Henry wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

Henry had been baffled then, and, if he’s honest, even now he’s still not entirely sure he hasn’t missed something.

He brought it up, once. Many months into their—friendship?—after he was reasonably certain that it was a permanent thing, whatever it was.

Alex had shrugged. Tore off some more pita and dipped it into the labneh in front of them. “I wanted to find out if you were any less insufferable now that you’re, you know.” He glanced back up. “No longer royalty.”

“I see,” said Henry, with a customary roll of his eyes. “And what’s the verdict, then?”

Alex replied, around a mouthful of pita and a spectacularly shit-eating grin, “Jury’s still out.” His eyes were alight, either with mischief or the glow of the flickering candle between them, Henry decided he’d rather not think on too closely. “Guess we’ll have to keep seeing each other, just to know for sure.”

“Wonderful,” said Henry dryly, and Alex had laughed, and Henry had tried not to feel a certain type of way about it.

It all could be perfectly normal, you see, if not for the fact that Henry is, as ever, completely and hopelessly in love with the man.

It’s fine—really, it is—on most days.

Most days, they have dinner. Usually someplace obscure, where Henry can’t tell if the staff don’t know who they are or don’t care. Either way, they go where the food is generally excellent and where they know they won’t ever be bothered. Neither of them are public figures anymore, but maintaining some semblance of privacy seems to be an unspoken agreement between them.

Some days, when they’re meeting in Brooklyn, Alex follows him home.

There’s really no other way to describe it, because the first time it happened, Henry had literally turned right thinking Alex would go left back toward the Q; instead, he kept pace with Henry, chatting all the way to the stoop of his brownstone. Then, while Henry struggled to find the most casual way to ask if he’d like to come in, Alex was already striding inside like he lived there.

And, some days, it truly feels like he does.

Henry chalks it up to things like exam times at first.

When they aren’t talking, or watching Star Wars (bickering about Star Wars, more like), Alex is nose-deep in a textbook or furrowing his brow at yet another paper, pausing only to swig on a beer every time David barks at Paul Hollywood onscreen. As the semesters go on, the readings get longer, the papers more time-consuming, and some nights will turn into mornings where Henry finds Alex passed out on his couch and spooning the pillow that has the beagle embroidered in the center.

Henry tries his hardest not to notice nor to feel any particular way about it, but over time his living room is slowly but surely overtaken, resembling more and more the study of some kind of mad genius.

He finds Alex’s notes strewn all about, tucked into odd spaces and utterly illegible to him. Alex’s textbooks occupy every conceivable space but the shelves, some precariously balanced at the very edges of Henry’s furniture. This is how he almost winds up with a broken big toe, when David mad-dashes after a ball twice his size (“Indoors, Alex? For Christ’s sake”), and the largest bloody tome on constitutional law or some such very nearly takes Henry out as he’s walking by.

Henry lifts the book and places it much more securely in the center of the coffee table. It takes some finagling, because there are no fewer than three half-empty mugs of stale brew, one of Henry’s (tea, though, of course), a cluster of Henry’s pens because Alex can’t be bothered not to keep losing his own, and Alex’s glasses, which Alex had been searching for until he and David both got distracted by a new toy.

“You’re a menace,” says Henry.

“You love me,” grins Alex, not even looking up as he play-wrestles David and murmurs, “Good boy,” which is a very fortunate thing because Henry’s just flushed the shade of a tomato, he’s certain.

He mumbles an excuse about checking the oven—an entirely absurd claim to make, because if there are any legitimate issues he’ll simply have to come right back out and face Alex again. Alex has said he can’t be trusted in the kitchen, though from Henry’s point of view, anyone who eschews the metric system is the one who can’t be trusted.

“Remember it’s in Fahrenheit, babe,” calls Alex from the other room, and Henry promptly knocks his elbow into a stray spoon, sending it a-scatter.

That could be an absolutely normal thing to call a friend. Right?

Henry has no concept of how long he stands there, staring at the oven timer tick down. He ought to rationalize it away as best he can, but a very small, very stupid part of him wants to hope instead.

“Hey. Move over.” Alex is suddenly next to him, laughing as he nudges Henry out of the way with his hip. Henry stands frozen as Alex bends down, opening the oven door and giving the pan a testing jiggle.

“Needs a little more time,” he says, then glances at the spoon clutched in Henry’s hand. “Definitely too soon for that. Still gotta chill it overnight. Who eats cheesecake with a spoon, anyway?”

Right.

So, sometimes Alex bakes for them. Sometimes he cooks for them, too. Actually, he’s been cooking quite a lot, come to think of it. They don’t dine out much at all anymore.

It’s become increasingly difficult for Henry to not think about these sorts of things and wonder if they might mean something.

One morning, Henry comes down the stairs to the living room to find that Alex isn’t there.

He can’t actually recall the last time that happened, Alex not ending up spending the night. There’s never not some looming deadline that keeps him up at unreasonable hours, and even then they’re usually up later than that just talking to one another.

Last night Alex had definitely nodded off—refusing the spare room, as always—and he’d seemed deeply asleep when Henry, in a fit of madness or maybe he had a small stroke, who can say, had taken a blanket and tucked him carefully in before turning out the light.

Henry wonders if perhaps that was the thing to have driven Alex off in the middle of the night at last. He tries not to wonder what it could mean, whether it’s irrational for him to feel as devastated as he does, standing there, staring at the neatly folded blanket in front of him now.

Distantly, there’s a clang of something like metal on metal. It sounds as though it’s come from the kitchen.

Henry frowns. He hadn’t heard David come down the stairs after him. Which means—could it—

The clanging noise is followed by a low curse under breath, and Henry, God help him, Henry cannot breathe.

Alex is making breakfast.

He’s already dressed for the day, looking fresh-faced and several cups of coffee in judging from the trail he’s left behind on the counter. Henry ought to have noticed the aroma earlier, but the flat has smelled almost permanently of coffee ever since Alex took up unofficial residence here.

Here. He’s here. Alex is still here.

“Hi,” says Henry, still slightly dumbfounded.

“Morning, sunshine.” Alex shoots him a grin that feels like it’s pierced him straight from Eros’ bow, and Christ when did Henry get so maudlin? “I have a study group soon, but wanted to make sure you got fed before going.”

“I can feed myself, thank you,” says Henry, not terribly convincingly. Surely there must be a box of cereal here, somewhere, that can help him attest to that fact.

“Uh huh.” Alex tilts the pan of eggs onto a plate, adding several garnishes that Henry didn’t even know were in his kitchen’s possession. “Listen, I know you Brits are adverse to flavor, but don’t forget the hot sauce this time, okay?”

“You are determined to give me heartburn,” says Henry, not a little bit wistfully, because Alex truly has no clue.

“You know it.” Alex winks at him while loading the dishwasher. “Tea’s in the cupboard. Got the one you like from that bougie place in West Village, ‘cause that’s just the kind of guy I am.” He straightens, brushing off his hands, already on the move, always on the move. “We still on for the museum social?”

“Oh, yes,” says Henry, cheering considerably at the thought. He has his outfit planned and everything, down to the tie that Alex had gotten for his birthday last year. “Looking forward to it.”

“All right. I’ll see you tonight,” says Alex, and then he’s leaning in as he walks past, one hand cupping Henry’s jaw, his lips touching briefly to Henry’s cheek. Like it’s something he always does—like this is how they’ve said goodbye every morning, how they will say goodbye every morning—and this is it. Henry is simply done for.

It’s over so quickly that Alex is already halfway to the foyer before the thought occurs to Henry that perhaps he’s just imagined the whole thing.

The front door opens and closes. Somewhere he can hear David puttering around, nosing into his food bowl that Alex must have refilled earlier, and yes, it must not have been real. How else could he explain Alex making him breakfast, feeding his dog, kissing him and then walking away like everything hasn’t been utterly and irrevocably changed between them?

Henry is still standing there, trying to recall how to breathe, when the door opens again. And then Alex is there, standing in front of him, and Henry can do this. He wills himself to make it so.

Their eyes meet.

“Hey.” Alex hovers in place for a moment. His expression is fairly neutral, but he’s gone uncharacteristically still. Henry doesn’t think he’s ever seen him stand so still before. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Well. That answers that, then.

Henry struggles to swallow. “It’s all right,” he finally manages to say. It is, in fact, the furthest thing from all right. “No harm done.” Every harm has been done, actually, and Henry doesn’t know which part is worse—that Alex hadn’t meant to kiss him, or that Alex is saying he’s sorry he did. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. We don’t have to—”

“No—Henry. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“It’s—” Henry swallows again. He can’t seem to recall how to put words side by side anymore. “No?”

Alex shakes his head. He takes one, then another, step closer. His eyes are bright with something that Henry almost doesn’t dare hope to read. Something warm. Something burning.

“I didn’t mean to do it like that,” Alex says. “Because it does mean something.” Henry doesn’t think he’s imagined the way Alex’s voice has cracked at the end. “It means everything, Henry, and I’d really like to do it right this time.”

“Oh,” says Henry, breathlessly. “Yes. Yes, go on then.”

Alex is already striding forward before he’s even finished speaking.

He takes Henry’s face in his hands, and then Alex’s mouth is on his, warm and hungry and wanting. Henry’s lips part, a soft groan escaping Alex’s throat as their tongues meet and slide together, and it’s everything that Henry never thought could be his until now.

His. Alex is his.

Henry buries his hands in Alex’s hair, gripping there in counterpoint to the way he presses his body up against his, trying to get closer. When they part, they’re both gasping a little, Alex’s forehead pressed against his as the air between them starts to settle.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” says Alex, voice low and heated all over.

Henry smiles. “Darling,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss him again. “You have no idea.”

[herondalesbooklover]

Hawthornes and the dogs they have

Honestly, based on my last post, I needed to write about the boys and the dogs they would have. This is purely based on vibes, nothing else.

Nash: German shepherd & Jack Rusell Terrier

Idk why, but for me Nash definitely would have a Jack Rusell Terrier. That dog gives me cowboy vibes. And german shepherds are such cute dogs and often believed to be dangerous, but they really aren't.

His dogs would be super family friendly and calm.

They are playful, but often need to rest.

They are also very protective.

They love cuddles.

They like to follow Libby everywhere, and they always lay near her.

Xander: Corgi & Cocker Spaniel

I have no doubts that Xander favours small dogs. He loves them. He likes to see how small they are in comparison to him, and he finds them so cute. Idk how to explain this, but these dogs scream Xander for me.

The most playful dogs, they do not get tired...like never.

His dog always find something to do.

They don't behave, but to a normal degree.

They like watching TV.

They like to go on walks, but Xander has to carry them at the end.

Jameson: Golden Retriever & Beagle

He is half british so of I was cleary going to choose a british dog for him. I also choose the golden retriever because we all know that Jameson is a golden retriever on the inside.

The most chaotic dogs ever.

Their way of playing and love language is biting. Jameson is full of little scars because of their teeth.

They actually take Jameson on walks. Jameson cannot control them.

If the house is quiet, it is more likely they are making a mess somewhere.

Jameson has to always defend them.

Grayson: Goldendoodle & Border Collie

Idk why but for me Grayson definitely likes mid to large size dogs and with hair long enough to needa a trim once in a while. These dogs might look too friendly to be Grayson, but I don't think he would have any serious looking dogs.

The most well behaved dogs ever.

They know all the tricks. Grayson trained them himself.

They are pretty attached to Gray, they are always following him around.

They sleep in grayson's bed even though he bought big beds for them.

They like people, but they don't get near them.

I wanted to make Avery too, but I couldn't think of any specific breed that gave me Avery vibes.

[caterpills]

WIP Wednesday

I'm going to borrow the open tag again from @kiwiana-writes today!

This, uh, chapter is out of control (aka double the size than expected) for publicist/author!AU. Just remember, everyone is an equal in airport security lines!!

Alex gets predictably distracted when they're at the scanners and have to remove their shoes. Henry clearly didn't think he'd be taking off his obscenely expensive loafers in front of other people, and definitely not in front of Alex. They both hurry to load their suitcases onto the conveyor belt, dumping out their electronics and stripping off jackets, when Alex sees them. The socks. Henry is wearing another gray—boring—suit for the plane, but his socks are. Okay, they are also gray, but they have a little repeating pattern of a beagle's face all over them.  Alex remembers the lone picture on Henry's Instagram: David. Holy shit. "Nice, your dog?" Alex asks, pointing down at Henry's feet. Henry immediately flushes, his toes curling in an effort to hide them under the hem of his slacks, but too late. Alex knows. Henry is a little whimsy underneath that rigid exterior. He's not so unknowable after all. The agents urge them through the metal detector.  Henry clears. Alex's whole chest lights up blindingly red on the monitor. It's because he was going to give Henry a hard time about his socks, wasn't it? This is the fastest and most efficient way that karma has ever retaliated against Alex.

Open tag as always. Let me see what you're working on!!

[greetingsapartment]

What about barnaby and a reader who is often very quiet around others except him?

Barnaby B. Beagle with a quiet reader!

He doesn't mind it.

Barnaby has been around all of his friends, all different shapes and sizes with all sorts of personalities! He already has a buddy who is pretty quiet, even if Wally is a little more just whispery than completely silent like you are.

He's a bit concerned about how you won't talk to any of the others, and might try to get you to warm up to them a little bit more — he's hoping it's not a personal issue with the others, but he won't push you into doing anything you might not wanna do. He'll still encourage you to try it out in front of the group, but he won't force you.

"Hey, little buddy." He puts a paw on your shoulder, patting it gently, even when his voice is gruff. "You feeling okay?"

Barnaby will let you respond to that question pretty much however you'd like. Even just something as small as a thumbs up is a-okay on his part! When you reply, he'll nod, understanding.

Since you can't communicate with the others, verbally, or even just on paper, he'll basically be your interpreter.

He'll get word from you, and once you're ready, Barnaby will give them all the details. Even if he needs to lean down for you (if you are shorter, that is) to whisper into his ear what you need to tell any of his friends, he'll listen!

"Yeah, what our pal's trying to say — is that you should probably come inside with your painting, before it starts to rain." Barnaby points up at the dark, cloudy sky with his thumb, and then to Wally's painting. "Our friend's got a point."

"My, my, you might just be right, neighbor." Wally praises, putting a hand up to his fuzzy, yellow face, "I think it is about to rain․․․ " He taps a digit to where his chin would be, seemingly in thought. "Do you think you two could help me bring in my painting, before it gets too wet?" Wally would question, in that same, monotone comforting tone, tilting his head to the side.

Barnaby would look back down at you, then back to Wally, and nod with his eyes closed. "Sure thing, bud'. I've got a knack for carrying heavier stuff."

He'll do whatever it takes for you to feel comfortable. Every neighbor is different, in their own, unique and special way — and he's just glad that you feel safe around and with him.

(omgomg omg hi!!!!!!! you are my first ask!! i really hope you enjoyed this and it was to your liking, thank you for your req! ^_^^_^^^)

[chirrups]

I would love to hear the reasoning for picks of dog breeds! As a fellow dog breed nerd I heavily agree with most of them, you did some really good character reads when choosing

i'd love to! but fair warning, it's gonna be a bit... long

Grian - Cairn Terrier (wheaten)

grian HAD to be some kind of dog from the hunting terrier family because they are small, stubborn, and persistent, which are distinctly grian traits in my opinion (also, he couldn't been from toy terrier groups because a tiny but driven working dog seems more his style than purse dog).

to fit my design of grian, the breed had to be short-legged with a longer/wispy coat and come in some sort of cream/wheaten color, which fit in well with the cairn. norwich terrier was also on the table but i like head and proportions of the cairn more.

Scar - Catahoula Leopard Dog (light red leopard)

i'll be so real, scar's breed is 50% a heart pick. scar is my favorite so i very shamelessly gave him the breed of my aunt's dog who is one of the best animals i've ever known. outside of that, catahoulas are kind of a multi-tool hunting dog and have this duality of being very intense on the field then switching to easygoing at home. i like that duality for scar as he's good at playing silly but has sharp moments of competency from time to time.

design-wise, i wanted scar's breed to be brindle, spotted, or some other busy whimsical pattern with short fur. also scar reads medium-large dog as he is on the more affable side and isn't small-dog-fierce like grian or joel are. and catahoulas have lovely leopard patterns with bright eyes and i went, how could i not give scar this one!

Mumbo - Standard Poodle (black & white)

the sky is blue and mumbo gets the poodle. poodles are highly intelligent sporting dogs but are known nowadays for their fanciness and also just terrible proneness to nervousness which are just very mumbo to me.

i needed a large breed of dog that could come in black and white, with some sort of varied fur length on the muzzle for that 'stache. poodles, with their silly haircuts, are the one dog that i think could genuinely rock a mustache mumbo-style

Jimmy - Beagle (lemon & white)

i explained a lot about my choice for jimmy here. but tldr, beagles are plucky, brash, and a bit foolish which are all very jimmy things to be. they are also known for baying which i think is a fun parallel to his entire canary thing going on.

the breed needed to be some form of tawny at a medium size (to pair with scott, tango, and marytn) with a short coat. more importantly the breed in my head had to have floppy ears. idk why call it a gut feeling.

Joel - Jack Russel Terrier (tricolor, broken coat)

i also explained about joel here but he is also deeply hunting terrier coded. joel is stubborn, energetic, and aggressive in way that is three steps north of the average life player so it felt natural to give him the Terror Terrier. he's also both doggedly independent yet attached to his people which is a very jack russel trait.

joel needed to be small, i'm not sorry, but with a more active frame. i also had preference to tricolor as the black-brown-white combo is something i use in my normal joel design too

Scott - Shetland Sheepdog "Sheltie" (blue merle & white)

scott's pick was more heavily reliant on coat color. i needed a long-hair medium sized breed that could come in blue merle or blue and white; which left collies, aussies, and shelties. i ended up going with shelties because of their disposition.

shelties have a tendency to be deeply loyal towards their family and distantly affable to outsiders which scott is. he also has this tendency towards earnest self-sacrifice and giving up when there's no way forward instead of holding on till the bitter end and most shelties i've met tend to give in gracefully rather than hold on to a fight they won't win.

Impulse - American Bulldog (brindle & white)

i wanted impulse to be a physically intimidating yet generally agreeable breed, which hits the mark for mastiff-types. american bulldogs are farm dogs that are both great guardians and very lovable which strikes me as an impulse sort of thing.

i was originally considering english bulldog but i wanted the breed to be firmly in large dog territory. english mastiff was also on the table and honestly either works well for him, but the tiebreaker is that the breed had to be not as tall as skizz’s and the higher white content in american bulldogs worked better design-wise.

Skizz - Bernese Mountain Dog (black, rust, & white)

prefacing this with the fact i probably know the LEAST about skizz, the breed had to be large and friendly while being relatively peppy? i guess that's how i'd say it. bernese mountain dogs kind of hit that mark, they are known for being calm but i've met a few that are on the more energetic side.

design-wise, the dog had to be larger than impulse's american bulldog and cleo's rottie with a luxurious black coat. great dane was in consideration but the face shape and very gentle nature of danes just didn't work for me. that and i wanted skizz to have the awesome fluffy fur as he deserves.

Tango - Podengo (fawn & white, wirehair coat)

tango is the one i'm most on the fence about. in many ways tango and his generally lively sort of attitude gives off terrier vibes but i could not find a breed of terrier that i liked design-wise. most terriers in the medium size range have folded ears and unless i wanted to crop them (which i am personally not a fan of) folded they'd have to stay. plus dipping into terriers, the most common tawny color is wheaten/cream which just would make tango look too alike to grian and martyn.

so i ended up going with podengo, a hound sight/scent mix with high activity and high intelligence to match tango's energy. i've not met a podengo in real life so it's hard to vouch for the breed, but they have a nice fawn and white color which in combo with a wispy wirehair coat kinda looks like flames. other breeds i might later retcon tango into are australian cattle dog, border collie, or a wirehair vizsla

Bdubs - Brussels Griffon (red, rough coat)

i met a griffon the other day and it struck me how bdubs-like the little guy actually was. griffons are spunky, little silly, and have that "gnaw at your ankles" energy that bdubs employs when he wants other to get out of his area.

the choice for griffon also came from their little beards which matched the fluffy/shaggy look i wanted for bdubs. plus the appeal of their red/belge coats is pretty high.

Etho - Keeshound (gray, cream, & black)

so etho needed to be some sort of spitz, as spitz are northern climate specialists and many breeds retain a more independent "wild-like" nature while being playful, intelligent, and affectionate family dogs. etho, the old minecraft player that he is, needed a dog that historically lived impressively but in modern times finds a place being just a silly guy.

it was between samoyed and keeshound because both historically were multi-purpose herding/hunting/hauling dogs that were bred into family pets. keeshound was the obvious winner because i've never seen a more etho-coded coat color.

Cleo - Rottweiler (black & rust, long haired)

for cleo, the breed had to be one with fighting/guarding history but not so intensely territorial to where the dog would be bad with small children. as much as cleo is lauded as a fighter in fandom spaces, she still soft in certain spots and i didn't want to land her with a breed that wouldn't make that exception, so i went with a rottie. rotties are intimidating guard dogs but notably they are amazing with small children and are great at knowing when to defend and when to be gentle.

design-wise her breed just had to be large, have red, and have thick fur. rottweiler, while fitting her great everywhere else, don't typically have that last trait as it's a rare recessive gene that was actively bred out of lines until recently. but i said, i liked rottie too much so i gave her longer fur anyways.

and done! i am currently working on the last set of 6, but i will update the reasoning here when i do just to keep my rambles at least a little contained. i hope any of this makes sense lmao

[spiteless-xo]

What do you think aot characters pet preference are??

How about you, are you a cat person or a dog person?? Do you have OR had any pets?

ty for asking anon 🥰 i like both cats and dogs, but i have asthma and cat hair bothers me so i can't have one myself, sadly. i do have a dog though!

╰┈➤ what kind of pets they like- aot.

ft. armin, eren, jean. cw. none.

⋙ armin alert.

i could see armin with either a topical aquarium or a small dog

he's always loved the ocean so of course he'd like to own fish. and he'd be really good about it too, always monitoring the temperature of the water, making sure the tank is cleaned regularly -- like obviously, but he does it to the point of near-obsession.

with his small dog, it would be something cute like a beagle or some kind of terrier that he takes on regular walks around the neighbourhood

he'd get really excited about teaching his dog new tricks and for sure he'd get those little buttons so his dog could "talk"

⋙ eren jaeger.

either no pet or a medium-sized dog.

i feel like his life is pretty busy so he wouldn't want to get a pet just to leave it home alone 90% of the time, so he wouldn't even bother getting one.

but if his life chilled out, he'd get a high-energy medium-sized dog like a german shepherd or a husky or a lab of some sort. something that would be able to go for runs and hikes with him

and then he'd be an insufferable dog dad. his dog goes everywhere with him, the backseat of his car is eternally covered in fur, and he's got an instagram page just for his dog.

⋙ jean kirsten.

either a cat or a large dog.

i think he leans towards getting a cat because they're so chill and relaxed, but still cuddly. i could see him getting stuck with a kitten somehow, and intending on dropping it off at an animal rescue, but then falling in love with it when it falls asleep on his lap and then it's game over.

he'd somehow get talked into helping foster a dog. maybe there's a dog in dire need of a home at the vet clinic that sasha works at and she begs jean to take it, and it's this 120lb monster that's afraid of thunder and other people

and jean absolutely falls in love with him once the dog starts warming up to him. jean lets him sleep up on the bed with him, takes him for walks every morning etc (and keeps eren and his psycho dog far away from him, because his dog gets so scared of eren's dog)

[firstprince-ao3feed]

It's the humidity

by clottedcreamfudge There is safety and security in the walls of their home and in the thick, luxurious comfort of their king size duvet; there is warmth and comfort there too, but Henry feels it more in the kitchen than under the covers, and in the cups of tea Alex now makes on autopilot to Henry’s exact specifications; and that kiss to his temple encompasses all that it is to be seen and known and understood – to be left sleeping without a goodbye is unthinkable. Alex knows how Henry feels about that. He always seems to know. * Prompt: *fogs up mirror and writes a message* Words: 965, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 9 of Softie September 2024 Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, David the Beagle (Red White & Royal Blue) Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Love, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, Tooth-Rotting Fluff via https://ift.tt/KTP1i06

[sleepingdeath-light]

barnaby + going into rut early hcs ; 18+

requested by ; 🎋 anon (15/07/23)

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; sfw | nsfw

character(s) ; barnaby b. beagle

outline ; “Hello! I wanted to request a Welcome Home NSFW fanfic (I'm 19 years old!! :DD)

I was wondering if it could be a Barnaby x Male reader, where Barnaby gets his rut early (It being a really difficult one? not sure lol) and goes to find the reader at their home!

🎋 Anon (Hopefully this emoji isn't taken-)”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, dom!barnaby, anal sex, unprotected sex, anal cream-pie, size kink, overstimulation, dumbification

note ; playfellowxxx was the tag created by clown and the team specifically for nsfw content — if you don’t want to see that sort of thing then that is the tag to block

note 2 ; i have altered the request a little bit to have the reader going over to find barnaby rather than the other way around but the rest of the request remains unaltered, i hope that the original requested doesn’t mind!

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

barnaby is usually perfect at tracking his heat cycles, keeping a calendar and leaving notes around to remind himself that it’s coming and he has this long to prepare for it (stock up on food at the bugdega, calling you to stay over with him for the duration, clearing up his schedule, etc.) — but somehow, somehow, this one had managed to catch him completely off guard

he’d just been meandering back home from howdy’s bugdega, arms full of groceries and snack foods after a successful shopping trip in advance of your weekly date night (you’d decided to cook dinner together, instead of just ordering takeout like usual) when he’d been hit with a sudden wave of heat rushing to his cock as his abdominal muscles tightened and flexed — a pleasurable but startling feeling so sharp that he nearly dropped his bags, but thankfully he managed to catch himself just in time before panicking and rushing back home before his mind fogged up too much for him to care about preserving his dignity

of course his first instinct is to call you, hands trembling as he dials those familiar numbers once again — this time with slightly blurred vision, a body so aroused he’s trembling, a painful ache between his legs, and heaving breaths as he desperately tries to calm his nerves and ‘keep his cool’ (or as much as he can, hunched over the phone whilst clenching those large thighs together to try and temporarily deal with himself)

thankfully — fucking thankfully — you pick up after the first dial and barnaby almost sobs when he hears your voice, staticky and cutting out with poor reception but still yours, calling out to him

and then he opens his mouth and the words just fall out — coming so quickly that you only manage to catch a few syllables here or there through the slurred, staticky mess you were receiving… but those spese few bits were enough for you to get the broader picture of your boyfriend’s struggles

early… heat… help… can’t… hurts…

and that was all you needed to know before you promised to be there ‘soon’ and grabbed the bare essentials (the lubricant you’d found to work best for the two of you, your favourite pillow, and your fluffiest blanket) and hurrying out the door, still in your pyjamas, to go over and help your poor boyfriend deal with his heat

(of course your priority was taking care of barnaby, but you knew from experience that ‘helping’ would be quite rough on your body and you wanted to at least make sure you were comfortable when he wreaked you)

the moment you arrived barnaby practically pounced on you, barely giving you the time to kick the door shut behind you before he was upon you: pupils dilated so wide you could barely see his eyes, lips wet with spit, whole body trembling, chest heaving, cock out and straining and hard, as he begged you to please let him fuck you

and, of course, ever the loving and selfless boyfriend, you accepted — on the condition that he at least control himself long enough for you to prep yourself with the lubricant you bought so he didn’t actually tear you in half

a condition that he accepted, sitting back on his heels and palming himself as he intently watched what you were doing — groaning and moaning as you prepped and stretched and soothed yourself until you were finally ready to take him and manoeuvred yourself into a more comfortable position

that position happened to be doggy style, ironically, but it had worked well in the past and you didn’t exactly have the time to consider an alternative when barnaby was clearly on the brink of losing it already, so it would just have to do

and barnaby really didn’t hold back with you once you gave him the ‘okay’

fucking into you so harshly that you were pretty much thrown across the floor with every thrust, arms collapsing beneath you until you were held up only by his tight grip on your thighs — just letting yourself be used to his desire

stretching your ass out on his aching cock, groaning and grunting at how tight you were around him despite how many times you’d been intimate before and all of the (admittedly rushed) preparation you’d done

slamming his hips roughly against your ass in such a way that that lingering coherent part of yourself knew that you’d be bruised and unable to sit by the time he was sated

practically using you as a glorified cocksleeve whilst letting out a string of pants, cusses, groans, grunts, and moans — only occasionally interspersing a half-slurred, half-howled cry of your name whenever he crashed through another orgasm

cumming inside of you again, and again, and again, until you were filled to the brim with his seed and even then not stopping — too far gone to care about the masses of cum leaking from your spent hole, dripping down the backs of your thighs, and falling to the floor to form a puddle you were getting closer and closer to collapsing onto by the minute (nor even seeming to notice the smears of his release staining the fur around his crotch as he kept on fucking into you)

turning you into a dumb, thoughtless mess beneath him as he continued to use you — smaller and more fragile than him, only knowing how to take his cock and cry out like a slut, mouth hung agape and eyes fluttering closed as you moaned, and whimpered, and groaned, and grunted, and called out for him until your throat was raw and your voice hoarse, and even after that

you really were a mess: covered in sweat from head to toe, with paw shaped bruises sure to form on your thighs and hips where he’d grabbed and groped you, saliva smeared across your face and tears of overstimulation pouring from your eyes, his cum practically pouring from your ass, and your own seed smeared across your stomach and thighs as you whimpered and sobbed your way through yet another orgasm

too much, too much, too much, and yet you were unable to think of anything but him and how fucking good it felt to have him on and inside of you

to get manhandled, tossed around, used and fucked until you were his dumb ‘breeding’ bitch (or so he’d called you in his breeding season fuelled haze) — how good it felt to be used and allowed to be thoughtless and dumb and blank

and even if it was starting to hurt now — the stretch, the throbbing, the grabbing — you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain (not even if you could think anything about it) as you knew that once barnaby came out the other side and the haze cleared that you’d be receiving the best aftercare you’d ever known

a reward in the form of rest and good food and cuddles for being such an attentive boyfriend

… that small coherent part of you just hoped that this heat wouldn’t last too long because the bottle you’d brought was almost empty and neither of you were in any position to go out and get a refill

[fancoloredglasses]

Race For Your Life, Charlie Brown (who is running this camp?!), part 1

[All images are owned by Paramount and Peanuts Worldwide. Please don’t sue me or send me to this camp]

[All video clips are courtesy of Rotten Tomatoes]

With summer starting, parents need to figure out what to do with their kids since school is no longer an option. Popular options are…

Take time off of work to take family vacations (see the Nation Lampoon’s Vacation franchise for examples of how this could go horribly wrong)

If the kids are old enough, make them get summer jobs

If they’re too young to be employed, but old enough to be trusted alone, let them stay home

If parents want to see their kids, but don’t trust them to stay home, they could send them to a day camp and pick them up after work

Then there’s the subject of this review from the mid-70s: If the parents want the summer off from their kids, they could ship them off to summer camp.

We will assume that most of you are familiar with Peanuts (or at least the Charlie Brown holiday specials) At the very least I reviewed one based on a movie about burlesque dancing), but just in case…

Peanuts was a daily comic strip created by Charles Shultz in 1950 and ran until shortly before his death in 2000. Schultz always hated the title (he originally named it Li’l Folks, but that name was already copyrighted so the publisher came up with the name that endured), which is why none of the animated shows, specials, and movies didn’t use the title until after Schultz’s death (every single one before had the main character’s name in the title) While the core cast hasn’t changed much over the years, minor characters have come and gone. The characters important to this review are…

Charlie Brown is the epitome of the downtrodden. He is laughed at by those he thinks of as friends, gets no respect from most (including his dog), and almost never comes out on top. For whatever reason, he is always (with one notable exception) referred to by his full name, rather than just his first.

Charlie Brown’s little sister Sally has all the red flags of a Karen-in-Training. She constantly complains about how Life Isn’t Fair to get her way (she once whined her way into getting a grade raised)

Lucy van Pelt is best described as the sociopath of the group. She absolutely has to be the center of attention and delights in tormenting Charlie Brown (especially with Charlie Brown kicking a football, constantly pulling it away at the last second so Charlie Brown lands flat on his back (she once did so during a football game in which Charlie Brown’s kick meant the difference between winning and losing. Three guesses who got blamed for the loss))

Lucy’s little brother Linus is likely the wisest of the gang. He has a dependency on his baby blanket, carrying it everywhere. He is also the target of Sally’s crush, much to his chagrin (she often refers to Linus as her “Sweet Baboo”)

Schroeder is a musical prodigy who worships the works of Beethoven. He carries around a pint-sized grand piano that he can play virtually anything on from memory. Lucy had decided that he is the man she’ll marry, no matter what he says (I say she’ll wind up settling for Charlie Brown)

Snoopy is Charlie Brown’s pet beagle. He walks like a human, acts like a human, and does everything humans do except talk (because THAT was where Schultz drew the line)

Snoopy’s best friend is Woodstock (yes, he was named after what you think he was named after) Woodstock can barely fly straight, but is eternally cheerful.

Franklin is…look, there’s no easy way to put this. He’s the token black kid. He was added to the comic strip in response to Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination. Unfortunately, he’s generally not treated well in animation. If he’s not being outright ignored, he’s being stereotypically black (such as break dancing) or segregated (in A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, for example, he was the only kid on his side of the table while all of the white kids were on the other side)

Peppermint Patty is a tomboy and…well, she’s pretty much a Force of Nature. She pretty much gets everyone to do what she wants by not letting anyone get a word in edgewise. Fortunately, she’s (mostly) well-meaning, if a bit dense at times (she’s the only member of the gang who doesn’t realize Snoopy’s a dog) I’m not sure if she has a crush on Charlie Brown (or as she calls him, “Chuck”) or if she enjoys watching his squirm (interestingly, he doesn’t object despite clearly being uncomfortable about it)

Marcy is Peppermint Patty’s best friend and chief foil. Marcy is very soft-spoken, but is the first one to call Peppermint Patty on her strong-arm BS. For whatever reason, she refers to Peppermint Patty as “sir” (a large portion of the fans have a head canon that they’re in a relationship)

Now that we have the cast, on with the show! If you would like to watch the movie, it’s available behind your favorite paywall.

We open (in the credits) with the gang on a bus on their way to camp, with Snoopy not far behind on his “hawg” (that he’s never had before or since) I’m VERY curious what’s up with the landscape around the suburb they live in, they go through forest as the credits roll, then it immediately turns into desert.

As the credits end, the bus passes by a gas station with a pair of kids hanging out by the pump for some reason. Sally waves at them, but the girl blows a razzberry at her.

Sally gets her wish as the bus gets a blowout immediately after. The driver (that we don’t see; one thing about Peanuts is you never actually SEE the adults...and if you hear them, they say “MWAH WAH WAH WAH”) fixes the flat while Sally marches right up to the girl and…

…immediately backs down and slinks back onto the bus.

Later, the bus stops at another gas station to refuel (they couldn’t do so while fixing the flat?), so the gang takes the opportunity to stretch their legs. Charlie Brown gets distracted talking to Snoopy and…

What kind of bus driver doesn’t take a head count before leaving?!

Fortunately, Snoopy has room on his hawg and gives Charlie Brown a ride. Unfortunately, Snoopy decides to take a “short cut” through some of the roughest patches in the desert, making Charlie Brown close to getting sick by the time they arrive (behind the bus, so what was the point of all of that?)

…and suddenly we’re in the middle of the woods again.

While staggering around and desperately trying not to vomit, Charlie Brown accidentally bumps into three older kids (bullies) who immediately take a disliking to him.

Fortunately, the PA (with a kid at the mic. Are there no adults that are more qualified?) announces registration has begun so Charlie Brown can excuse himself before the bullies can feed him to their cat. Unfortunately, they run into him again when they cut the line and Sally tries to sic Charlie Brown on them.

(Yeah, like that would work)

Fortunately, Linus is there to Save The Day.

Later, as everyone fills out their registration forms (shouldn’t they have done that BEFORE they crossed a desert to come here?) Sally bitches about it, so Peppermint Patty waxes philosophical about the need to leave your comfort zone.

(…and people wonder why the fandom thinks Peppermint Patty and Marcie are a couple)

After filling out their forms, the gang heads for their tents (the boys in one, the girls in the other…

…and Snoopy in his own)

In the girls’ tent, Peppermint Patty suggests that they run things in a democratic fashion, including voting for a leader. Of course, Peppermint Patty has the election won, since we all know Marcie will vote for her.

So with everyone voting for themselves, Peppermint Patty decides she should cast the deciding vote…for herself (wait, there are more than four beds. Don’t the other girls in the tent get a say?)

That evening…

Nothing like roughing it, eh Snoopy?

The next morning…

PA kid has the campers out for morning calisthenics, followed by breakfast and morning activities (no, I’m not doing a montage. It’s as boring as it sounds) Then lunch happens.

Maybe Sally should complain to the manager.

After lunch…

The bullies are at it again.

…but they forgot about Linus.

PA Kid then announces that the Camp Games (pitting all of the tents against one another) will begin. Naturally…

…the bullies cheat. Where are the adults who are supposed to be keeping things fair?

WHO IS RUNNING THIS CAMP?!

As the gang sulks about losing to a bunch of cheaters, PA Kid announces the Main Event of the summer.

The other tents know they don’t stand a chance, meaning there are only four competitors: the boys (sporting a raft held afloat by four inner tubes), the girls (in an inflatable life raft), Snoopy and Woodstock (in a single inner tube) and the bullies, who are competing in this monstrosity…

…complete with radar, sonar, and an outboard motor. You know, if they can afford this contraption, why are they slumming it at Camp Remote?

The teams spend all afternoon inflating their rafts…

…only for the bullies to use that air to inflate theirs overnight. (I guess the electric air pump was a bit more than they could afford)

The next morning, the teams must once again inflate their rafts before the race begins and they all set out (if a bit winded)

[At this point, I would like to point out that the bullies act like every cartoon villain in every race ever: They have the means to get far ahead of the competition, and would likely win the race by several miles, but they need to take the time to cheat and “prove” their superiority]

That evening, the bullies manage to pry their raft out from under the dock and sneak past the other teams as they sleep until they come to…

They then flip the sign so it points in the opposite direction.

Wait, they scheduled an unsupervised race involving kids at a time when there’s blasting happening?!

WHO THE HELL IS RUNNING THIS CAMP?!

Later in the evening, it starts snowing (Hang on. It’s SNOWING in the middle of summer in a forest next to a fucking desert?!) The next morning Woodstock has some fun at Snoopy’s expense.

With that bit of levity out of the way the race continues, and they come to the bullies’ trap.

Despite being nearly pulverized by falling rocks, the channel proved to be a short cut as the gang emerges ahead of the bullies (no doubt sleeping in, knowing they no longer have any competition)

As the bullies rush to catch up…

…a massive storm hits, threatening to sink all of the rafts! (Wait, no one bothered to check the weather report before the race?)

In fact, Snoopy’s tube capsizes, sending both he an Woodstock into the river! Snoopy manages to swim back to his tube, but Woodstock is lost in the water!

WILL Woodstock survive? (I’m sure he’ll be fine. I mean, he was in specials and the comic strip that were published after this)

WHO will win the race?

WHO THE FUCK IS RUNNING THIS CAMP?!?!?!

These questions and more will be answered in the exciting conclusion!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Rob Henderson

Published: Jun 12, 2022

Let’s start with a question: What do top hats and “defund the police” have in common?

Before we explore it, I’ll very briefly tell you about my unusual background. Currently, I’m a doctoral candidate in psychology at Cambridge and a faculty fellow at the University of Austin. And before this, I studied psychology at Yale as an undergraduate. But before entering these universities, my life was a lot different. I was born into poverty and grew up in foster homes in Los Angeles and all around California. I fled as soon as I could at age 17, enlisting in the military right after high school.

I then attended Yale on the GI Bill. That was a very different environment for me. At Yale, there are more students from families in the top 1 percent of the income scale than from the entire bottom 60 percent.

Throughout my experiences traveling along the class ladder, I made a discovery: Luxury beliefs have, to a large extent, replaced luxury goods.   Luxury beliefs are ideas and opinions that confer status on the upper class, while often inflicting costs on the lower classes. In 1899, the economist and sociologist Thorstein Veblen published a book called The Theory of the Leisure Class. Drawing on observations about social class in the late nineteenth century, Veblen’s key idea is that because we can’t be certain about the financial status of other people, a good way to size up their means is to see whether they can afford expensive goods and leisurely activities. This explains why status symbols are so difficult to obtain and costly to purchase. In Veblen’s day, people exhibited their status with delicate and restrictive clothing like tuxedos, top hats, and evening gowns, or by partaking in time-consuming activities like golf or beagling. These goods and leisurely activities could only be purchased or performed by people who did not work as manual laborers and could spend their time and money learning something with no practical utility. Veblen even goes so far as to say, “The chief use of servants is the evidence they afford of the master’s ability to pay.” For Veblen, butlers are status symbols, too.

In short, his idea was about how economic capital was often converted into cultural capital. These findings were later echoed by the renowned French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu in his 1979 book Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgment of Taste. In his body of work, Bourdieu described how “distance from necessity” characterized the affluent classes. In fact, Bourdieu coined the term “cultural capital.” Once our basic physical and material needs are met, people can then spend more time cultivating what Bourdieu called the “dispositions of mind and body” in the form of intricate and expensive tastes and habits that the upper classes use to obtain distinction.

Corresponding with these sociological observations, the biologist Amotz Zahavi proposed that animals evolve certain displays, traits, and behaviors because they are so physically costly. Many people are familiar with the example of the peacock’s tail. Only a healthy bird is capable of growing such plumage while managing to evade predators. A lesser known example is the behavior of the African gazelle. When these animals spot a predator, the healthy adult gazelles often engage in what is called “stotting.” They repeatedly jump as high as they can, springing vertically into the air with all four feet raised.

The signal this sends to predators is essentially: “I’m so fit that I can afford to expend valuable energy to show you how strong and robust I am compared with the other gazelles.” The predators then direct their attention to less lively and energetic targets. So for humans, top hats and designer handbags are costly signals of economic capacities; for gazelles, stotting is a costly signal of physical capacities. Veblen, Bourdieu and Zahavi all claimed that humans—or animals—flaunt certain symbols, communicate in specific ways, and adopt costly means of expressing themselves, in order to obtain distinction from the masses. Animals do this physically. And affluent humans often do it economically and culturally, with their status symbols. A difference, though, is that human signals often trickle to the rest of society, which weakens the power of the signal. Once a signal is adopted by the masses, the affluent abandon it.   There are historical examples of this. For example, in the middle ages, spices were expensive and only the elites could afford them. It was a hard-to-fake signal of one’s social rank and economic resources. But as Europeans colonized India and the Americas, the cost of spices dropped, and the masses were now able to obtain them. As a result of widespread use, spices were no longer a status symbol.

Elites decided they were vulgar, and during the reign of France’s Louis XIV, court chefs banned sugar and spice from all meals except for desserts.   Here’s another example. In the U.S., dueling was practiced primarily by the elite for many years. One key reason why it fell out of fashion in the early nineteenth century is because this ritual of dueling was gradually adopted by the lower classes. In response, the upper classes abandoned it because it was no longer prestigious. And then it was outlawed in the late nineteenth century.

The yearning for distinction is the key motive here. And in order to convert economic capital into cultural capital, it must be publicly visible. But distinction encompasses not only clothing or food or rituals. It also extends to ideas and beliefs and causes.   In his book WASPS: The Splendors and Miseries of an American Aristocracy, the author Michael Knox Beran examined the lives and habits of upper-class Americans from the mid-nineteenth to the mid-twentieth century. He writes that “WASPS” had mixed feelings about their fellow citizens.

These upper-crust Americans viewed ordinary Americans as “sunk in moronic darkness” and that “It is a question whether a high WASP ever supported a fashionable cause without some secret knowledge that the cause was abhorred by the vulgarians.” This still goes on today. In the past, people displayed their membership in the upper class with their material accoutrements. But today, because material goods have become a noisier signal of one’s social position and economic resources, the affluent have decoupled social status from goods, and re-attached it to beliefs. The upper class craves distinction. The French sociologist Émile Durkheim understood this when he wrote, “The more one has, the more one wants, since satisfactions received only stimulate instead of filling needs.”

And this is backed by recent research. A 2020 study titled “The possession of high status strengthens the status motive” led by Cameron Anderson at UC Berkeley found that relative to lower-class individuals, upper-class individuals have a greater desire for wealth and status. In other words, high-status people desire wealth and status more than anyone else. By now you probably know the answer to the question I asked at the beginning: what do top hats have in common with defunding the police. Well, who was the most likely to support the fashionable defund the police cause in 2020 and 2021? A survey from YouGov found that Americans in the highest income category were by far the most supportive of defunding the police.

They can afford to hold this position, because they already live in safe, often gated communities. And they can afford to hire private security. In the same way that a vulnerable gazelle can’t afford to engage in stotting because it would put them in increased danger, a vulnerable poor person in a crime-ridden neighborhood can’t afford to support defunding the police. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, compared to Americans who earn more than $75,000 a year, the poorest Americans are seven times more likely to be victims of robbery, seven times more likely to be victims of aggravated assault, and twenty times more likely to be victims of sexual assault. Expressing a luxury belief is a manifestation of cultural capital, a signal of one’s fortunate economic circumstances. There are other examples of luxury beliefs as well, such as the downplaying of individual agency in shaping life outcomes. A 2019 study led by Joseph Daniels at Marquette University was published in the journal of Applied Economics Letters.

They found that individuals with higher income or a higher social status were the most likely to say that success results from luck and connections rather than hard work, while low-income individuals were more likely to say success comes from hard work and individual effort. Well, which belief is more likely to be true? Plenty of research indicates that compared with an external locus of control, an internal locus of control is associated with better academic, economic, health, and relationship outcomes. Believing you are responsible for your life’s direction rather than external forces appears to be beneficial. Here’s the late Stanford psychology professor Albert Bandura. His vast body of research showed that belief in personal agency, or what he described as “self-efficacy,” has powerful positive effects on life outcomes.

Undermining self-efficacy will have little effect on the rich and educated, but will have pronounced effects for the less fortunate. It’s also generally instructive to see what affluent people tell their kids. And what seems to happen is that affluent people often broadcast how they owe their success to luck. But then they tell their own children about the importance of hard work and individual effort. Now let’s discuss strange vocabulary. When I was growing up in foster homes, or making minimum wage as a dishwasher, or serving in the military, I never heard words like “cultural appropriation” or “gendered” or “heteronormative.”

Working class people could not tell you what these terms mean. But if you visit an elite university, you’ll find plenty of affluent people who will eagerly explain them to you. When people express unusual beliefs that are at odds with conventional opinion, like defunding the police or downplaying hard work, or using peculiar vocabulary, often what they are really saying is, “I was educated at a top university” or “I have the means and time to acquire these esoteric ideas.” Only the affluent can learn these things because ordinary people have real problems to worry about. To this extent, Pierre Bourdieu in The Forms of Capital wrote, “The best measure of cultural capital is undoubtedly the amount of time devoted to acquiring it.”

The chief purpose of luxury beliefs is to indicate evidence of the believer’s social class and education. Members of the luxury belief class promote these ideas because it advances their social standing and because they know that the adoption of these policies or beliefs will cost them less than others. Advocating for defunding the police or promoting the belief we are not responsible for our actions are good ways of advertising membership of the elite. Why are affluent people more susceptible to luxury beliefs? They can afford it. And they care the most about status.

In short, luxury beliefs are the new status symbols. They are honest indicators of one’s social position, one’s level of wealth, where one was educated, and how much leisure time they have to adopt these fashionable beliefs. And just as many luxury goods often start with the rich but eventually become available to everyone, so it is with luxury beliefs. But unlike luxury goods, luxury beliefs can have long term detrimental effects for the poor and working class. However costly these beliefs are for the rich, they often inflict even greater costs on everyone else.

[livingfast04]

Steve hates dogs, well, more like he’s terrified of them. Half of a left over from just generally being scared of dogs as a kid, and then the Demo-Dogs later down the line. He’s never really liked them to begin with. Robin’s parents have a Beagle, she’s probably as old as Robin is. She is the only Dog that Steve likes. Eddie loves dogs, and Cats. Eddie’s just an animal person.  But he absolutely understands Steve’s fear of Dogs, and that’s fine he’s not disappointed because he wanted to get a dog later down the line.  By the time they get together, they have one cat between them. She’s actually Steve’s and she’s a total little shit. She hates everyone who isn’t Steve and mildly tolerates Eddie and Robin. Her name is Leia, (after Princess Leia ofc) she’s the tiny little ball of rage who only likes Steve. She’s very vocal, and half the time Eddie can hear Steve having almost full conversations with her.  She eventually puts up with Eddie, more than just being in the same room as him. Eddie gets this huge smile on his face every time she climbs into his lap.  When the move in together, they get another cat. Steve thinks he’s really funny when he gets away- half sick out of his mind with the Flu- with naming her Frog, (Or Froggy as Eddie likes to call her) He giggles deliriously, as he mumbles about Princess and the Frog.  Frog is the brightest orange Eddie had ever laid his eyes on. She was tiny too, some lady having given her to Eddie was a “Sacrifice to Satan.” And they both caved, she was so small. So what was another tiny cat.  Wrong.  Frog gets to be Twice Leia’s size. She’s a healthy weight, she’s huge, fluffy, and a good 20 something pounds. Frog is a cuddle buddy, and talkative, not nearly as much as Leia, but she’s loud when they both get home from work. Steve adores her. Out of the Two cats she’s Eddie’s favorite, though the feeling isn’t mutual.  They both will take up Eddie’s spot on the bed, if there’s a rare chance him and Steve don’t crawl in bed at the same time. it took some getting used to when Frog got older, sharing a bed with his boyfriend, their tiny cat, and the Fucking huge Orange mass that liked to lay on Eddie’s ribcage. In their matchbox apartment Steve is The favorite person. It’s the one of the only things Eddie and the Cats can agree on. 

They got lucky with Leia and Frog too. They get along like a house on fire, Frog follows Leia everywhere. They sleep together, eat together, terrorize Mike together-  When Eddie and Steve move into their first house, one with a yard. They spend months, almost over a year talking about getting a dog. Helping Steve with his anxiety over the idea, letting Steve spend time around Dogs a lot more. They end up both falling in love with a Golden Retriever mix- She’s almost pure black. She’s amazingly well behaved, and a little bit of a nut job. She’s incredibly sweet and loves everybody.  It’s love at first Sight for Eddie, and he all but demands they adopt her from the shelter on the spot-  They name her Mimic. (it’s miles less boring than her name being Daisy Steve- I let you name out Cat Frog. Let me have this.) Steve’s half terrified of her, but she eventually becomes the only dog that Steve will actually let in his space without having a full blown panic attack. She sleeps in their bed too before Eddie gets kicked out by all three of their pets for the last time. It’s the last time he works the later shifts at the record store in-between writing his book series. Steve instates a first come first serve on the bed space.  They get a king sized bed, because none of their pets get the memo, and half the time Robin stays in their bed.