#about beagle size too

[snowflake-sage]

Say hello to Gumdrop! An alt doggy sona :>

[kaiyunsim]

paw paradise —

pairing : idol!jake x daycare worker!reader

summary : jake's dog, layla, has been attending a doggy daycare and has taken a liking to you… and maybe the owner too.

a/n : i love jake. i love golden retriever energy.

— wc : 1.1k — not proof read —

jake sim has always been a morning person. the soft light spilling through his curtains, the chirping of birds outside his window, and most importantly, the enthusiastic barking of his golden retriever, layla, are enough to pull him out of bed with a smile. layla is practically vibrating with energy as jake clips on her leash.

“ready for daycare, girl?” he asks, scratching behind her ears. layla responds with a happy bark, tail wagging furiously.

every morning, jake drops layla off at a local doggy daycare while he heads to practice. it’s a cozy little place tucked between a coffee shop and a florist, with colorful murals of dogs painted on the outside walls. it’s called "paw paradise," and it’s as much of a haven for jake as it is for layla.

you work there, and you’ve seen layla plenty of times. she’s impossible to miss, bounding in with her golden coat practically glowing, a stark contrast to the sleepy-eyed boy holding her leash. you’ve always thought jake was cute in an approachable, golden-retriever-boy kind of way, but you’ve never had the chance to really talk to him. he’s usually in and out within minutes, his mornings rushed and busy.

one morning, you’re at the front desk, checking in dogs and chatting with their owners, when jake walks in. his smile is soft but genuine as he approaches, layla’s leash wrapped securely around his hand.

“hey,” he says, sliding the daycare’s sign-in clipboard toward himself. “how’s it going?”

“it’s good,” you reply, trying not to sound too nervous. “how about you?”

“can’t complain. layla’s been up since six, so she’s ready to burn off some energy.”

as if to prove his point, layla wags her tail so hard that her whole body shakes. you laugh, crouching down to give her a few pats. “she’s such a sweetheart.”

jake’s grin widens. “she likes you. that’s rare; she’s usually all about the dogs.”

it’s a small comment, but it sticks with you. there’s something about the way he says it, casual but warm, that makes your chest flutter.

after jake leaves, you’re busy with the usual daycare chaos—feeding schedules, playtime rotations, cleaning up after the more “exuberant” dogs. but layla’s easy. she gets along with everyone, her gentle nature making her a favorite among the other pups. you find yourself sneaking her extra belly rubs during breaks, thinking about her equally charming owner.

the days pass in a blur of wagging tails and barking dogs. jake becomes a familiar face, always polite and friendly, but never lingering too long. you start noticing little things about him: the way he always thanks you before leaving, the way he scratches layla’s ears like she’s the center of his world. it’s endearing, but you keep your distance. after all, he’s just another client.

one weekend, the daycare hosts a small "pup playdate" event for clients and their dogs. it’s meant to be a casual gathering with snacks, games, and plenty of room for the dogs to play. you’re busy setting up when jake arrives, layla trotting happily beside him.

“hey,” he says, balancing a tray of cupcakes. “i brought these. figured the humans might want snacks, too.”

“nice touch,” you reply, smiling. “you didn’t have to, though.”

“well, layla insisted,” he jokes. “and by insisted, i mean she stared at me while i baked.”

throughout the event, you notice how easily jake fits in. he chats with other dog owners, laughing as layla plays tug-of-war with a beagle while she is twice her size. at one point, he joins you by the snack table, where you’re refilling bowls of treats.

“this is really nice,” he says. “you guys put a lot of effort into it.”

“thanks,” you reply, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “it’s fun seeing all the dogs together.”

“you’re good at this,” he adds, his voice warm. “the dogs love you. layla especially.”

his words catch you off guard, but before you can respond, a chorus of barking erupts as the dogs chase after a stray ball. jake laughs and jogs over to join the chaos, leaving you feeling oddly flustered.

a few days later, jake surprises you again. this time, it’s a rainy morning, and he’s soaked from head to toe when he walks in. “i forgot my umbrella,” he explains, shaking water off his jacket. “but layla needed her playtime.”

you grab him a towel, trying not to laugh. “here, dry off before you catch a cold.”

as you softly dry his hair, you notice how his usually neat appearance is a little disheveled. it’s strangely endearing, and you can’t help but offer him a cup of tea from the staff kitchen.

“you don’t have to,” he says, but you wave him off.

“consider it a thank-you for all those coffees you’ve brought me.”

the two of you sit by the window, watching the rain as layla happily plays in the indoor area. the conversation flows easily, moving from lighthearted topics to deeper ones. jake tells you about how he adopted layla during a tough time in his life, how she’s been his constant source of joy. you share stories about your journey to working at the daycare, your dreams of opening your own place someday.

these little moments start to add up. jake’s visits become a highlight of your day, and you find yourself looking forward to seeing him more than you’d like to admit. but it’s still just friendly… at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

one evening, as you’re locking up the daycare, jake’s car pulls into the parking lot. layla’s head pops out the window, barking happily when she sees you.

“hey,” jake says, stepping out of the car. “i know it’s late, but we were just at the park and thought we’d swing by.”

“lucky me,” you say, grinning. “what’s up?”

jake rubs the back of his neck, looking unusually neevous. “actually, i wanted to ask you something.”

“oh?”

he takes a deep breath. “i was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime. like, just us. no dogs.”

your heart skips a beat. “i’d like that,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

jake’s face breaks into the brightest smile you’ve ever seen. “great. how about this weekend?”

“it’s a date,” you reply, and layla barks as if in agreement. “c’mon in, i’ll give you a ride home”

“if you insist” you couldn’t hold back a smile.

you’ve always believed in the magic of dogs, but you never one to lead you to someone like jake.

turns out, paw paradise really is paradise after all.

[demigodsanswer]

Percy was pretty good at getting gifts for Annabeth. She wasn’t that subtle about what she wanted. He was sure his wife wanted a dog. He was going to get her dream dog for Christmas. ~ Annabeth spent weeks subtly trying to get Percy to say what kinds of dogs he might like. Ever since they moved back to New York, and he’d once again left Mrs. O'Leary and Nope in New Rome, her husband had been a bit bummed out, staring wistfully at every dog they passed on the street. She was sure he’d love to get a puppy for Christmas. And she was going to get it for him.

Percy was pretty good at getting gifts for Annabeth. She wasn’t that subtle about what she wanted, and she’d sometimes just outright ask for something, or send him the link to the specific book, keyboard, and sweater she wanted. 

So, he was sure his wife wanted a dog. 

It was their first Christmas as a married couple. Fred (and Percy had to assume the gods, unless the Chase family was really this wealthy) had outright bought them a Brooklyn brownstone for their wedding. The upstairs had needed hefty renovations, but that was really part of the gift: it gave Annabeth a project. Where she found the time, Percy didn’t know. But the first floor was perfect for them while Annabeth redid the upstairs bathroom and bedrooms. 

Now they had a dream home, a yard, and total freedom from landlord restrictions. And every night, Annabeth had a bevy of new cute dog videos to show him. 

“Would you want to get a dog soon?” Percy asked, not bothering to be subtle. 

She shrugged. “Could be nice to get one before we start having kids,” she said. 

“A little practice,” Percy said with a smile, as if they hadn’t practiced plenty with Estelle for years. 

“Would you want a big dog? Little dog?” Annabeth asked. 

“I love a big dog, but in the city, something smaller might be better,” he said, hoping that was the right answer, or that it at least got her to tell him what breed she was thinning. But Annabeth just nodded. 

“Maybe a hound dog? Or a beagle? Something medium-sized? We have a yard,” Annabeth said. 

“A beagle would be cute,” Percy agreed. 

“Would that be your dream dog?” Annabeth asked. 

“Not sure I have a dream dog, but beagles are super cute,” he said. That was the honest truth. He thought they were pretty adorable, and they had big dog attitudes with small dog bodies. But this wasn't about his dream dog. It was about her dream dog. She was the one who'd wanted a dog ever since she'd left her doberman behind at age seven.

“What would your dream dog be, though?” Percy asked her.

“Oh, something big too, and that would be a good family dog. Maybe a lab or a collie,” she suggested. 

When Annabeth fell asleep, Percy made a note in his phone, and then spent his lunch period looking up available shelter dogs. He had a few students who liked to hang out with him during lunch. One was a demigod, the other four were her mortal friends. 

“You should find her a puppy,” Kaylee said as they scrolled through shelter websites. Most of the dogs were over five years old. “If it’s a baby test-run, a puppy will be better than an adult dog. And they’re so cute!” 

Percy called Grover when school got out. “I need a puppy,” he said. 

“Regular puppy or hellhound puppy?” Grover asked. 

“Regular, family-friendly. For Annabeth. A lab or a collie or something,” Percy explained. 

“I’ll ask around,” Grover promised. Plenty of satyrs volunteered in rescues and shelters, doling out long lectures about how animals were real investments, not just toys, to well-meaning parents hoping to surprise their kids Christmas morning. 

“You’re the best, man,” Percy said. 

~

Annabeth spent weeks subtly trying to get Percy to say what kinds of dogs he might like. Ever since they moved back to New York, and he’d once again left Mrs. O'Leary in New Rome, her husband had been a bit bummed out, staring wistfully at every dog they passed on the street.

She knew her husband would love a puppy for Christmas.

She knew she couldn’t get him another hellhound (she asked Nico), but what kind of regular dog would he want? A bernese mountain dog kind of looked like Mrs. O’Leary, and they were good with kids, but they didn’t live very long. Small dogs were practical for the city, but would Percy like something yappy? 

“He likes you,” Clarisse said, as Annabeth recounted her woes. 

“Hurtful,” Annabeth said back. “Look could you just … see if you can get him to give you an idea?” Clarisse taught in the classroom across the hall from Percy, turning their once antagonistic relationship into a genuine friendship and comical workplace rivalry. 

“Why don’t you just ask?” Clarisse suggested. 

“That would ruin the surprise,” Annabeth said. 

“All I’m going to do is ask him,” she said back. 

“However you want to do it is fine, just don’t tell him I’m getting him a dog,” Annabeth said. 

Annabeth hated being wrong. And more than that, she hated Clarisse La Rue being right. Subtly wasn’t going to work. She needed to just ask. They were two weeks away from Christmas, and she was no closer to knowing what kind of dog Percy might want. 

Thankfully, Percy had brought it up first, another one of his not-so-subtle hints that he wanted a dog: “Would you want to get a dog soon?” Percy asked. 

Annabeth tried to play it cool. “Could be nice to get one before we start having kids.”

“A little practice,” Percy said with a smile. 

It was finally time to just ask. “Would you want a big dog? Little dog?”

“I love a big dog, but in the city, something smaller might be better,” Percy said. Annabeth nodded, waiting a few seconds to see if he’d offer up a breed himself. He didn’t. 

“Maybe a hound dog? Or a beagle? Something medium-sized? We have a yard,” Annabeth suggested. In her research, beagles were good family dogs, but not that big. Their barks weren’t yappy though, and they had a lot of energy. She could see Percy with a beagle. She'd like something a little bigger, personally, but he made a good point about the size. This was about his dream dog, not hers. He was the one who had to leave his dog behind in California.   

“A beagle would be cute,” Percy agreed. She could tell from the wistful smile on his face that a beagle puppy would make him very happy. 

The next day, she spent her lunch break looking for beagle puppies in New York. When that didn’t turn up many great results, she called Grover. 

“I need a puppy. A beagle if you know anyone with a litter,” she said. 

“ You need a puppy?” He asked. 

“It’s for Percy,” she explained. 

Grover paused. “Right, sure, okay. A beagle?” 

“Yeah, or a hound dog, if that’s better,” she said. 

“I’ll call you back if I find something,” Grover said. 

A few hours later, he let her know he had a satyr friend in Queens who was fostering a litter. They’d be ready to go home right in time for Christmas. 

“Your name’s on the list,” Grover said. “One of them is yours for sure, just get up there and see which one you want,” he said. 

Annabeth picked out a little girl puppy in the end. She was barely three pounds, but she seemed to have all the energy in the world. 

“Oh, you are going to steal all of my husband’s love and attention away from me, aren’t you?” she asked the puppy. It yapped at her, as if it say “without a doubt.” 

~ 

“Oh, you are going to steal all of my wife’s love and attention away from me, aren’t you?” He asked the ten pound chocolate lab puppy. He was the runt of the litter, and given how quickly he’d stolen Percy’s heart, he was sure to steal Annabeth’s. 

Hiding the little guy was going to be the hard part. His mom agreed to keep him at her place until they came over Christmas day, but he was worried about Estelle getting attached. 

“Well, then you’re just going to have to come visit more if she does,” Sally said over the phone. As if he and Annabeth weren't there every Sunday for dinner. 

~

“Thanks for watching her, Grover,” Annabeth said, dropping the puppy off at his small apartment. His current girlfriend was a rose bush in Central Park, so Grover had relocated to the city, taking up residence in Hell’s Kitchen. “I don’t know why Sally said she couldn’t take her,” she said. 

“Probably just doesn’t want Estelle getting attached,” Grover suggested, keeping his attention on the puppy pattering around his apartment. 

“I guess, but we see them every week. We could bring her with us,” Annabeth said about the puppy. 

“Who knows,” was all Grover had to offer. “So I’ll bring her over when I come by for Christmas?” 

“Yes, I’ll have you wait outside until I get Percy’s attention for the surprise,” she said. 

“Good plan,” Grover said. 

~ 

When his mom texted him we’re here Percy nearly sprinted out of the kitchen. Annabeth was fiddling with something in the living room as he walked by. 

“Grover is walking up now,” she said, “go back to cooking, I can let him in,” she said. 

“No, no, my mom just got here,” Percy said. 

Annabeth looked at him confused. “Well, she and I have met. I can let her in too.” 

“No, just …” he exhaled, “she has a gift for you, just close your eyes, and turn around.” 

Annabeth did, obviously hesitant. “Okay,” she said, “but Grover has a present for you so if you see him … try not to see him.” 

“Got it, wise girl,” Percy said, before opening the door. 

He failed to not see Grover, and when Annabeth heard his chipper voice, she turned around. 

Grover and his family were on the stoop. “The jig is up,” Sally said, stepping inside with the lab’s puppy carrier in her hand. She stepped into the living room and set it down as the puppy started barking. 

“Merry Christmas, dude,” Grover said. Percy tried to get his head on straight. Because his mom had brought Annabeth’s puppy in already. So what was Grover holding? 

~ 

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth said, kneeling at the carrier she was sure she didn't buy. 

“You two are really perfect for each other,” Paul said with a laugh. 

Annabeth opened the carrier and let the little chocolate lab puppy waddle his way out, before picking him up in her arms. “Hi baby,” she said. “Percy --” 

She felt tears welling in her eyes, but before she could cry, she had to start laughing. Percy was on the other side of the living room, his new puppy in his arms. 

“You all knew!” Annabeth said. “None of you said anything?” She was trying to sound angry, but it was no use pretending. She couldn’t be mad when she was holding a sweet little baby in her arms, one that Percy had so perfectly picked out for her. 

Percy didn’t look angry either. He was holding up his beagle and letting her lick his nose. 

“It was too cute,” Sally said.  “It’ll be good practice in case you have twins.” 

Annabeth shook her head. “Let’s not put that energy into the world.” She wanted kids, but one at a time would be ideal. 

Her lab puppy got curious and wiggled his way out of her arms and towards the beagle puppy. 

“You wanna say hi?” Percy asked it, placing his puppy down for them to sniff at each other. Within minutes, the two puppies were running around the living room, fast friends, and even faster holiday decoration destroyers. Not that Percy or Annabeth minded. 

~  A year later ~

Percy called Max to him. The lab was staying close to Annabeth, who had, in a matter of seconds, gone from calling the dogs into the house, to throwing up in their vegetable garden. 

Percy managed to get both dogs inside before either tried to eat what she’d thrown up. Nugget (full name, Chicken Nugget) was particularly food driven. They’d learned fast that beagles would simply eat until they exploded, with no cares about what they were eating. With both dogs out of the way, Percy pulled some water from a nearby puddle to wash most of the mess away.  

“Morning sickness, my ass,” she complained. They’d learned quickly that it was not (a) limited to the morning and (b) not predictable at all. It was three in the afternoon; Annabeth had taken a half day and Percy hadn’t scheduled after-school activities to make it to this doctor’s appointment. Thankfully they were only walking a few blocks down the street. Annabeth had already thrown up on a fair number of subways in just two weeks. 

“It’s a sign that the baby is healthy,” Percy said, rubbing her back. 

“That’s because it’s stealing my health,” she complained. “Alright, I think it’s done for now. Let me just brush my teeth, and we can go.” 

It was their first doctor’s appointment since the positive pregnancy test. They were hoping to see the baby and get some sonograms for the soon-to-be grandparents’ Christmas gifts in a week. Although Percy worried Annabeth’s spontaneous puking might give them away if his mom was around to see it. They’d managed to keep the secret so far. They could make it another week. 

~

Annabeth couldn’t believe how fast she’d gotten pregnant once they started trying. Percy really must have had some strong swimmers. They were both so excited, overwhelmed with joy and both prone now to spontaneous crying, that it had swung back around to anxiety for Annabeth. The two weeks between the home test and this appointment had been filled with worry that something was wrong that she couldn’t know about. 

“Everything is fine,” Percy promised, kissing her hand as they walked in. 

“I’m telling you, something is … different,” she said. She knew he thought she was being a bit paranoid. How could she know what a normal pregnancy felt like, anyway. And for that matter, would a demigod pregnancy even be normal? 

“We’ll always figure it out,” Percy offered as reassurance. She tried to trust him.  

She was on the OB’s chair, her shirt pulled up as the OB squirted some cold goo onto her belly, barely bloated (and that might have just been holiday food). 

The wub wub sound of the heart beat made Percy cry faster than she did, which she didn’t expect. Percy sat next to her, squeezing her hand as he sobbed. That made her cry more than anything. Annabeth let out a deep breath, and wiped the tears from her face as she looked at the screen, seeing mostly just wavy black lines. 

“There’s your baby,” the OB said, pointing to a little peanut on the screen. 

Percy, through his tears, cracked, “Aw, babe, it’s got your eyes.” 

“Ope,” the OB said, moving the wand around. 

“What?” Annabeth asked, as another peanut shape and additional wub wub appeared. “Oh no,” she said, covering her face with her free hand. She knew, she knew something was different about her pregnancy than Sally’s with Estelle, or Clarisse’s with her kids. She knew it. Sure, she was glad it wasn’t a bad thing, but -- 

“What?” Percy asked, trying to put together the images on the screen with the noise in the room. 

“This is baby A,” their doctor said, pointing to the first blob they’d seen, before rolling the wand back over, “and this is baby B.” 

“Two?” Percy asked, his eyes wide now. 

“Two,” the doctor confirmed. 

“I can’t believe this,” Annabeth said, finally turning to Percy. Leave it to him to mess with all of her best laid plans. They were going to have two babies at once. She tried to sound angry, but she ended up just smiling and laughing as she looked at him and announced: “This is your fault,” she said. 

“Well,” the OB said, continuing the scan, “they’re fraternal. So there were two eggs, and two sperm. It was a team effort.” 

“We are known for our teamwork,” Percy said with a grin. 

“We are never going to make things easy for ourselves, are we?" Annabeth asked.

Percy leaned over to kiss her gently as the OB continued the scan. "We should be used to it by now."

[madaboutmunson]

Perfectly P-awesome

For Stranger Things Writer’s Guild Daily Prompt

‘Daddy’

Summary: Drabble of Steddie at the dog rescue

Word Count: 700

——————————————————————-

“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

[kiestrokes]

Days 23, 24 & 25: Hard, Soft & WIP-Mas | NSFW

▸ Idol: Ten Lee of NCT | BM of KARD | Seo Changbin of SKZ ▸ Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. ▸ Genre: active WIP, smut, soft hour, hard hour. ▸ Vibe: Ten is a soft hour (new neighbors), BM is an active WIP/smut (friends hooking up), Changbin is a hard hour (exes hooking up for cuffing season). ▸ Warnings: language, fluff, cats, feeling safe during a stressful time, JKR mention.

Sexually Explicit Content: slight body worship, sexual intercourse (penis in vagina), fingering (female receiving).

🗝️ Note: Has not beta-ed by me or anyone else. THIS IS A WIP! (it is wipmas) It is not complete; this is very much a rough outline/first run through. Ten's is SFW, my Ten WIP wasn't enough to post, its a broad outline. And we are fucking done👏🏼

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

「 25 Hours: Hard, Soft and WIP-mas Masterlist 」

"A cat?" You startle as your eyes connect to theirs. "Leon?" A voice calls from the hall, your door is propped open as the movers bring more boxes up. A dark haired guy with a bright smile pops his head in, where you and the Abyssinian stand frozen in a staring match. "So sorry, he wandered out when my friend was bringing in the groceries." The guy scoops him up, extending a pretty fingered hand to you, "I'm Ten!" Slowly you reach out to shake his hand, giving your name. "Feel free to come over later, we are making dinner. Nobody likes to cook after a move and it will save you a takeout fee." You nod, full intending to politely ghost. But Ten and his friend have no intention of letting that happen, they're knocking on your door, adorable beagle puppy in tow to tempt you next door. Honestly you are thankful they did, the apartment is filled with the sweet and sour smells of tom yum soup. Once full they corral you to the sofa where two Siamese scatter from. You drift off with the pup, Bella in your lap as the boys chatter over the first Harry Potter movie. You're woken up hours later to Ten covering you with a blanket. One of the Siamese peering over the edge of the couch at you. "Just sleep here, you probably don't even know where your bedding is right now." Incoherent, you nod, slipping easily back to sleep.

Plus size reader with longtime friend, Matthew Kim. Has you on your back, pushing in and that first snap makes your breasts bounce, he groans and looks away. “What? What’s wrong?” “Nothing, I just can’t look at your tits or I’m going to ruin this for us.” He squeezes the outside of your thighs. Thrusting with a soft moan that breaks off into a whine, when you tighten your core to lift your head to look at your breasts. “What’s wrong with them?” Matthew presses you forcefully, but softly back into the mattress. “There’s nothing wrong with you-“ he pauses to kiss you, softly, deeply, “you look so good I’m trying not to cum too soon.” You let out a surprised laugh, “what are you sixteen?” He raises a challenging eyebrow and sits back to grab your hips snapping into you, pulling some uncontrolled moans from both of you. “Look at yourself and tell me you wouldn’t cum if you were me.” You do as he says, tightening around him again. Matthew grits his teeth and keeps up his sharp thrusts. You gasp, hands moving to stop your breasts from bouncing, he catches your hands. “Don’t. You. Dare.” Each word punctuated by a thrust, until you're gasping, spine arching off the bed.

"God, I fucking hate you." You punch at his shoulder in frustration, Changbin snatches your fist and pins you to his bed. "Sure say that a lot for someone who always ends up back in my bed." Your one hand busy trying unsuccessfully to pull down his joggers. "Please just take your pants off already." Changbin laughs lightly, "so impatient, what about a little foreplay." His mouth finds your neck, the sensitve spots that have arousal shooting to your core instantly. "Fuck the foreplay." You finally manage to tug the waistband over his plump ass and sigh in victory. Changbin smiles against your neck, intertwining his fingers with the hand he has pinned. "Go ahead." He teases, a deadweight of muscle on top of you. "Seo..." you whine, nudge his face to kiss across his cheek to his lips, tempting him to you. Your kisses, smile and lips his ultimate weakness. Changbin groans, releasing your hands so the two of you can work on ridding yourself of your clothes. Once naked his thick arm snakes between your legs, gasping silently at how wet he finds you. "You really meant it when you said fuck the foreplay." You sigh, hips rubbing into his hand, seeking his fingers. "Seo, please, I am already begging." Your nails dig into his forearm when his fingers thrust into you. Your head kicks back on the pillow, hips rolling into his palm. "I can't wait." Changbin leans up to pull a condom from the side drawer, quickly rolling it over his length, rubbing it through your release until neither of you can stand it and thrusting into you. "Shit, you're tight again." Your fingers clutch his bicep, "it's been a little bit." "Yea? Can't find anyone to fuck me as good as you?" He means it, and deep down your know he's right, nobody knows every single spot like him. That stubborn trait, the need to get you off as many times as possible. Not to fuel his ego, but to eat up your pleasure.

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2024 by kiestrokes  All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[cobra-creampuff]

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 💚

[sunsetofdoom]

but I cannot come in unless you dream of me

"I would enter your sleep if I could, and guard you there, and slay the thing that hounds you, as I would if it had the courage to face me in fair daylight. But I cannot come in unless you dream of me..." -Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

-

Blitz’s knee rattled against the wobbly side of the barstool, tapping his leg compulsively as he scanned the dim bar. Everybody was fucking obnoxious, was the problem. Girls with judgy laughs, smug jocks, arrogant hipsters with their post-post-irony bullshit. Everybody copying the last trend, but really making fun of it, because they were soo over it, actually. What he wouldn’t give for Stolas’ full-throated fucking sincerity, sometimes. Maybe he was cringe, but he didn’t have the dead-eyed ‘look how cool I am’ syndrome that infested this fucking shithole like a plague.

He tapped his fingers against his phone laying facedown on the bar. If he flipped it over, he’d just have to look at the fucking weather app announcing the full moon, and the ghost of Stolas’ cancellation text lurking in his notifications.

“-and she just thinks she’s soooo,” some woman drawled, and Blitz’s eye twitched at the thought of talking to her for long enough to get his dick in her mouth and shut her the fuck up. That was a no.

“Better than workin’, though, innit,” said some guy, and Blitz leaned over, trying to figure out who. The accent was familiar. Not Stolas’, but the imps that worked for him all seemed to have that low-class, ‘allo guvnor’ shit going on. When Blitz exchanged two words with them, at least. Which he tried not to.

“You still workin’ at the Palace like your dear old Dad did, Reg?”

“Nah,” ‘Reg’ said, and Blitz caught him as he spoke- short-horned imp about Moxxie’s size, hair slicked back like he thought he was cool. Clearly dying a slow death of Hipster Prick disease. “Got to be too much for me. Pay sounded alright but there en’t enough money in the world to put up with those rich fucks.”

“Oh, tell us the good shit, Reg,” the girl at the table gushed, obviously thirsty for his shrimp dick. “Nick hasn’t heard your stories, ooh, Nick, they’re sooo funny-”

“You never came out with us,” Reg said, pointedly.

“Hard enough to when you don’t work two rings away,” Nick put in, and Blitz could have yelled at them to get on with the stupid story, because it was his only excuse not to find somebody to fuck in the nasty ass bathroom.

“Tell ‘im about the prince, Reg,” the girl begged, and Blitz slouched deliberately to look like he wasn’t listening. His nerves tingled.

“Oh, just a sad sack, it’s the wife that’s a real piece of work,” Reg said, sounding worldly and uninterested. “D’you know I once watched her smash a vase worth more than my mum’s house? Just hucked it overhand like a shot-put. Horrifying.”

Blitz filed this away. Like most mistresses, he had a looming blank space in his brain labeled The Wife, and he thought about her as little as possible with an angry, guiltless nausea.

“Why!?”

“Oh, her shit husband opened his mouth, what else?”

Stomach tying itself into a knot, Blitz reminded himself that he didn’t actually know who they were talking about. Maybe he was hallucinating Stolas in places where he wasn’t, like letting his name slip while fucking somebody else.

“Prince Stolas says the word divorce and she gets an extra health bar and a choir starts singing in Latin,” Reg continued, so there went that theory.

“This isn’t even my final form,” smirked the other fucking idiot.

“That’s, like, so derivative,” the girl snorted, and Blitz took a second to imagine shooting them, except then he wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on horrible stories about his sad fuckbuddy.

The bartender cruised by, giving him a hard look, and Blitz flicked two fingers at him for another drink. The first one was pretty much a prop that he’d intended to ditch on his way to Bonetown, but apparently that wasn’t happening because this place was full of miserable assholes. The second would be something to nurse while he tracked this stupid conversation. Blitz took a drink. He tried not to drink when he was pissed off. This felt like a special fucking occasion.

“What was the worst, Reg?” 

“Oh, fuck’s sake,” Reg sighed, leaning back in his chair until two legs were off the ground, and Blitz wanted to shove him over. “Gotta be- right, I come in when I’m s’pose to, end of the night, clean up after the gentry are in bed, except this one’s on the bloody floor, right? Demon prince dead drunk on the fancy rug. So I scarper.”

The other guy cracked up, booing him and throwing a crumpled-up napkin. “Coward!”

“Oi! Shut up! I was right to! The wife comes in screamin’ her bloody head off about what a fuckup he is, winds up, kicks him in the stomach-”

Blitz choked on his drink. He swallowed frantically, eyes watering.

“-and what’s he do, cover his head? No! Rolls over and throws up everywhere, she’s still screaming bloody murder, only thing out of his plastered mouth is not to let the kid hear, she smashes a vase next to his head and leaves. And there’s me behind the curtains, stuck there until he peels all ten miles of himself up off the floor and fucks off, and I have to clean up the sick and all the bloody shards-”

The other two ghouls at the table with him were fucking laughing, and Blitz hadn’t come with his usual kit but he wasn’t unarmed, either; he could throw his knife and give this little dickhead some new holes to fuck. He toyed with it, but what would be the point. Instead, he took another drink, trying to wash down the taste of bile at the back of his throat.

“Really. Surprised the miserable fuck hasn’t slit his wrists in his fancy fucking bathtub,” Reg shuddered mockingly. “I en’t gonna be cleaning it up when he does.”

“Good on you for quitting, Reg.”

“Oh, I didn’t quit. Got caught stealing the silver.”

And then they were laughing again. Blitz chugged his drink and tried to drown them out.

They stopped talking about Stolas after that, even though Blitz listened in on them long enough to want to blow their fucking brains out. Or maybe his. Somebody’s. Drink number three went down numbly, and then the group of fucking idiots left. Blitz stayed hunched over at the bar, drinking more than he’d planned to because it was better than thinking. He brushed off the couple of people who tried to talk to him, because his dick was so out of commission it may as well have been in another universe.

A notification on his phone snapped him out of the tunnel-vision haze, and it wasn’t anything, some fucking app trying to get him to open it; but it pulled up the fucking weather app with its little moon icon, which he stared at for a solid minute before opening the rideshare one, because he definitely wasn’t okay to drive home.

The guy’s car pulled up in the parking lot, and Blitz shook his coat to make sure he still had his keys (he’d get the van in the morning, or better yet make Moxxie do it) and got in. “There’s a puke bucket back there if you need it,” the guy said, and then proceeded to ignore him for the twenty minute drive.

That was fine by Blitz, who was still silently processing. Half-formed thought glopped around in his mostly-drunk brain like a lava lamp, putting disparate images together. Stolas, quietly uncomfortable as he stated one of his only limits was being hit in the face. Stolas, cringing and apologizing over and over with a rictus grin. My knight in shining armor, come to rescue me! That empty fucking house. Wine bottles stashed in weird places, the bedroom, the bathroom. Stolas sinking into the pretense of affection in Blitz’s subpar aftercare with starved desperation.

It’s like drowning, Stolas had said once, nonsensically, stuck in a subspace haze. Not just once, actually. Over and over, rolling it around. Feels like drowning. Like drowning.

C’mere and lemme give you mouth-to-mouth, then, Blitz had leered at the time, which made Stolas do that high-as-balls giggle that reached into Blitz’s chest and twanged a discordant note on his out-of-tune heartstrings.

At home, he hung up his keys and paced back and forth in front of the couch a couple times, tail lashing, full of manic energy that had nowhere to go. He flipped his phone over and over in his hands, tossing it in the air and catching it, seeing how many times he could do it before it fell. He wasn’t stupid, the juggling game was an excuse to keep him from opening the fucking thing, from making whatever stupid decision was lurking in his impulse-ridden brain.

Giving up, Blitz took off his coat and threw it in the general direction of the chair, tugging off his shirt and pants until he flopped down face first on the couch, took his horns in his hands, and groaned.

Not letting himself think about it long enough to realize it was a bad idea, Blitz grabbed for his phone, opened it, and texted Stolas.

u ok?

He slammed it facedown on the cushions, face heating up. Stupid. Stupid. Fucking stupid idiot. He made a policy of not texting first. He was gonna get back three six-paragraph texts that would take forever to decipher and when he did would tell him nothing except that Stolas was a double-texting asshole who ate dictionaries for breakfast.

The wife wound back and kicked him- Fuck, Blitz wished he’d killed that fucking kid. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so awful now.

His phone buzzed.

I’m perfectly hale, thank you so much for asking, Blitz. I do appreciate that. Perhaps tomorrow we could meet up for coffee and complete our requisite trade of my grimoire? You can have it back straight away, I don’t mean to keep you from your important work

Blitz squinted. He could smell the avoidance on that bird.

Thot u wre sick ?

Typing bubble. No typing bubble. Typing bubble again. Blitz gnawed on the inside of his cheek.

I was unwell this afternoon, but I feel much btter now. Thank you for thinking of me <3

It took a second, and then another message dinged:

*better.

Squinting again, Blitz looked at it hard. Stolas didn’t make typos.

Blaming it on the drinks, Blitz closed his eyes while he typed, like not seeing it would mean he wasn't really sending it.

r u lkie fr ok

He opened his eyes. Looked at it. Thunked his head down on the sofa again.

Surprised the miserable fuck hasn’t slit his wrists in his fancy fucking bathtub. Except he couldn’t, because they’d played with knives before and nothing actually broke Stolas’ unbreakable immortal shell. He was untouchable. Un-hurt-able.

Right?

Determinedly, Blitz swallowed hard and followed up. Another rule broken: No fucking double-texting.

i worie abt u smtms

He tossed his phone onto the floor, crossed his arms under his head, and tried to go the fuck to sleep.

The next morning, he got up, nursed his stupid fucking four-drink hangover because being thirty-five sucked absolute ball sack, and got dressed for work. He didn't find his phone until he was almost fifteen minutes late, and going to be later since he'd have to walk; it had ended up wedged under the bean bag chair.

He opened it. A text message from Stolas waited there. 2am, almost an hour after he'd sent his, which was a record- Stolas usually responded instantly, like he had nothing better to do than wait by the phone.

Everything will be okay.

Somehow, Blitz thought as he slipped his phone in his pocket, that didn't make him feel better at all.

[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.

[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

[sarcasticsciencefictionwriter]

Soft asks!! ❤️ 5, 7, 11, 20, 21, and 26!

Hi! Thank you so much!

5. How do you like to take care of yourself?

UM. UM. I am like, really bad at doing this. Notoriously bad. I'm not even sure I do, other than the basics?

7. Who do you feel most like yourself around?

My twin sister! She's amazing and I am always myself around her.

11. Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

I have two! (bonded pair, must not separate). They're my stuffed dogs that I've had since I was a baby. A black lab that's good cuddling size and a little beagle that fits in my hand.

I've had them forever and they're still next to my bed. When I'm feeling my worst, I'll pull them back out for a cuddle.

20. Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

My mom reading to my sister and I when we were little, both of us cuddled on either side of her. That book is still one of my favorites to this day and I think about that memory a lot.

21. Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa?

Tea! I love tea. I absolutely hate coffee. Hot cocoa is something

26. If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

Right now I really want to move to Vancouver because I want to work in the film industry there.

I've also dreamed about moving to London, which would also be there.

I'd bring my family and have room for the mutuals to come and visit. In a perfect world, I would bring all the pets we've lost too, alive and well.

[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