#bad dog barks

[ghouljams]

Big, scary guy and small, frilly dog is such a powerful combo. And you're completely right that Simon would be swimming in pussy. As a dog lover I would absolutely be kneeling down to greet a darling Cavalier, bombarding Simon with a million questions.

"What's her name?" "How long have you had her?" "Oh, she's so well behaved. Such a sweet girl." "She has such a nice coat, you must take good care of it." "Do you usually walk in this neighborhood? Maybe I'll see you two around!" "I swear I could just eat her up! If you're not careful I might steal her and bring her home with me."

Meanwhile, Simon is standing there looking as intimidating as ever as I fuss over his dog.

You see him walking around the neighborhood, stopping in the same shops in the evening, the same cafe at night. Always with a little copper Cavalier trotting beside him, little pink bows on her ears matching the thin pink leash that's hooked lazily around his wrist. Sometimes he has a shop bag in his other hand, sometimes not, but always the god walking beside him. Her little legs tip-tapping as fast as she can manage to keep up with his long strides.

And every evening when you pass him on your way home you stop to coo over the little dog. "Commander," he'd told you when you first stopped to scratch her tiny head. You figured it was one of those compromises that men often have with their girlfriends, "you can pick the dog but I get to name it." Choosing something that felt masculine to make up for the frou-frou dog. It didn't matter to you, it was easier to let your guard down around a man you assumed was already taken.

Crouch to scratch the dog's tiny chin, giving Ghost a nice view down your shirt. Never once thinking twice about bending over to pet her little head, or smiling at the big man in the skull printed mask.

"What a good girl you are," you coo at Commander, as she leans into your hand, "I could just eat you up, you're so sweet."

"You like sweets, pup?" Ghost rumbles, deep voice sliding thick down your spine.

"I bet you do," You squeeze her little face in your hand, "I bet daddy gets you pup cups when he goes to the cafe, doesn't he?"

"Wasn' talkin' t'the dog." You glance up at him, heat flashing over your face as you meet his eye. "Gonna keep callin' me daddy, pup, or d'you got somewhere t'be?"

[0800-p1llowhump3r]

need to kiss your cock through your underwear until there's a noticeable wet patch from my drool. let me rub my face against your bulge as I inhale your scent. hold my lips open and push your covered crotch back into my hot, wet mouth... please.

[rxttenmuttz]

as the weather gets warmer, remember there is a reason animals like waterholes/rivers

go jump in a river, or if there isnt one pour cold water over your head, I used 2 do that at school when it was too hot, no one cared (mainly cuz evry1 was doing it) and omg it made it sm more bearable

be the wet dog u wanna see in the world

[cuntdrool]

Leave me alone with your puppy boy. I'm just another dog it'll be fine. I promise. It'll be so fine you wouldn't even believe it. Leave me alone with him and don't even worry about his aching cunt you can trust me not to mount and bite and tackle him. It'll be totally fine. Don't even worry about it. Just take me off my leash and close the door I promise I'll be a good dog.

[cimmanonrowl]

He’s so big 🤤 Like so BIG 😩 I want to bite his arms 🤤 leave bite marks over all over 🤤 and his stomach 🤤 OH MY GOD HIS STOMACH 😭 I WANNA RIDE HIS STOMACH 🤤 And do you see that table? 🤨 I NEED him to bend me over that furniture and rail the shit out of me 🤤 No lube 🙅🏻‍♀️ No protection 🙅🏻‍♀️

[yb-cringe]

can anyone hear me. if pili told the truth he would be disliked but not HUNTED. he mightve gotten less of a target if he explained the truth, cpk wouldve backed him up, there could have been a chance for pili to make a bond with the yellow faction but bad wanted some chaos and being on bads good side means pangi is safe and pili will be safe because god he needs some allies right now so pili is just in the middle of all these lies and conflict and battles trying to gain a leg up oin the competition thats been staunchly against him since the beginning can ANYONE FUCKING HEAR ME PILI IS GOING INSANE TRYING SO HARD TO STAY AHEAD THAT HES GONNA GET HIMSELF KILLED--

[lixie-phoria]

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

[eliounora]

some jehovah's witnesses came ringing the doorbell and after they gave me their speech and brochure they bid me a good rest of the spring and I responded with "happy easter!" and they were like uh ok... and then it hit me. jehovah's witnesses indeed do not celebrate easter

[seabeck]

So dogblr, how does one start with finding a good muzzle for your dog? Juniper doesn’t react to men well and while she hasn’t tried to bite anyone I’d feel a helluva lot more secure knowing she can’t (and it might keep people from letting their dogs run up to her). Like what brands and styles are good and how to you figure out what size? All I know is how to train it

[tiffysdeath]

THE HAND DIFFERENCE OMG

[cuntdrool]

I'm so gay for other dogs... it's becoming a problem? I haven't been able to do anything about this irl but all I want to do is mount the fuck out of another dog boy while our owners watch and laugh and the sounds I'm fucking out of him. I want to pin him down and rub his pussy until he's yelping and whining. I'd show off his swollen little puppy cunt and twitching clit to his owner, and mine would praise me for playing so well. I want to wrestle him back down when he thinks it's over and fuck him into the carpet while he drools and cums and cries on my strap. Why won't people I know let me mount their dog boys for them. Why am I being stopped.

[rat-rosemary]

Dream is the god of false luck. Of shifting change. Of shoving everything in your pockets so you have a way out hours later. Of jumping from cliffs with half of a plan. Of Deus Ex Machinas made days earlier one the few seconds you had to breathe in the middle of a chase.

Of making it all look magic, like you can twist reality while hiding your bloody knuckles behind your back

No matter what happens the dsmp still prays to him.

In lmanburg Wilbur would leave a small offering to Dream before going to fight them same man. Karl would mutter a small prayer before making a particularly stupid prank to get the attention of a married man. Tommy screamed a plea as he stumbled and fell from the obsidian grid, managing to snatch a water bucket from his inventory just in time.

All but two of them keep their bonds to the god they lock away under obsidian and lava.

Sam breaks his the day he becomes the Warden, locking the rosary he has carried for years in a box in his base and never touching again

(The way his body becomes stiff and cold does not bother him. It doesn't. His duty comes first, even if he doesn't know what to do now that his body doesn't seem to move like it used to)

Quackity breaks his the day before his first visit to the prison, easily throwing his rosary into the flames of the fireplace in the office of his new empire

(His wings ache where they're bound to his back, his skin tingles, so cold and hard compared to the fluid metarmothis he got used to for years. He imagines being able to absorb the divinity that pours out of Dream through his skin, holds back the urge to eat his heart)

Quackity wanted endless luck. He wanted everything to always go exactly as planned, for all the pieces to fall into place

But the only luck that is certain is a gun with six bullets pressed against your temple.

[emilems-a-cat]

brought a plastic knife home from school as a chew toy >w<

[cimmanonrowl]

saw this picture and had to share it

he’s so big i can’t 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

WHAT THE FUCKKKKLK?')_!_(?)£((((£(??£@+@+ I JUST SCREAMED AND CREAMED 🤤 I THINK I JUST HAD AN ORGASM 😭 HE’S SO BIG SO SO SO SO BIG LOOK AT HIS CHEST 😍 AND HIS STOMACH 🙈 HIS SHIRT IS SO TIGHT 🤤 I WANT TO KNEEL IN FRONT OF HIM 🛐 I AM BARKING AND DROOLING LIKE A RABID DOG 🐕 BARK BARK BARK

DEAR LORDDD WHEN I GET TO HEAVEEEN PLEASE LET ME BRING MY MAAAAAaaN 🎶🗣️

PSA. I just finished my period please don’t think badly of me. I’m a decent woman on regular days.

[remembrancersticky]

I had a shower epiphany a few weeks ago and have just been working on cranking out this oneshot. Oh, I had so much fun with this. Thanks to @squishyowl for the dividers! They are very pretty!

You get dragged along for a fishing trip, scent a space wolf, and he carves your name onto his (metaphorical?) heart. Fenrysian is just Norwegian here for the sake of simplicity. Very fluffy given this is 40k. TW for hunting, non-sexual nudity, and cannon-typical violence. Asmundr art here and here.

Space Wolf OC(Asmundr) x Serf!Fem!Reader - SFW - 2.8k Words

The world of Silġ was not the coldest you had ever been to. But it was still the thickest part of winter on this side of the planet, and you could feel the moisture of your breath catch and freeze against your eyelashes when the wind shifted.

You waddled behind the three wolves you served today, waylaid by the heaviest furs and boots you owned and the sled-cart you pulled along behind you. The blizzard that had raged for the last month ended a few days ago, though the warp storm that trapped your ship here had not. The sky still sputtered out a sporadic scattering of snow, powdering the dense ice on which you tread.

The three in front of you wore no more than training armor and pelt. You were envious of their enhanced thermo-regulation as you flexed your fingers to stave off the chill that had seeped through your thick mittens.

“Here,” the venerable veteran, Ægir, announced, stabbing his chainsword into the ice.

You slowed as you caught up to the group and looked about. You were the only thing besides flat ice for several kilometers in any direction.

“Finally!”

The youngest, Asmundr, was not known to keep his opinions to himself at the best of times. He was brash and stubborn in every aspect of his life. He was the one that insisted you join them on this venture.

The company and ship’s crew were trapped on Silġ until the warp storm passed. You had already been stuck more than several weeks and many of the younger warriors were antsy for activity beyond their regular training. And, while rations were not depleted, it did no harm to secure supplementary provisions while they were available. Ergo, the Wolf Lord had allowed the formation of a few small hunting parties.

While you assisted the entire pack as your services were needed, Asmundr had all but named you as his personal serf. Not that he had asked anyone in particular, nor would he ever be granted a personal serf given his rank and status if he had. He was simply dogged in requesting your time, specifically. Not that you minded spending so much time with him; he had grown on you quite a bit, and you enjoyed the stories he would regale you with as you cared for his armor.

And so, here you were. Accompanying the small expedition on their fishing trip. You had given up on getting an explanation for exactly what you were meant to do beyond ferry equipment or attend to whatever unfavorable task may arise. Frankly, it was simply a nice change of pace from the monotony of the last few weeks, nice to be away from the stagnant air of the ship, and you were thankful to have been allowed to attend.

Hodr swiped his boot along the ground to disturb the thick layers of snow and reveal the solid ice beneath. Though not as old as Ægir, the scars upon his face told a story of numerous battles fought with unfettered ferocity. He was cold, stoic, but on occasion you glimpsed something wild lurking deep within his eye.

After stomping solidly on the ice without so much as a crack, Hodr gave a nod to Ægir, who activated his chainsword.

Still stuck in the ice, the blade began throwing up shards of ice and compact snow. You turned slightly and covered your face with a mitten to prevent anything from lodging in your eyes. You felt the pitter patter of debris against your form suddenly disappear. Looking up, it seemed Asmundr unthinkingly shifted his position to effectively shield you from the onslaught.

“Mortal,” Hodr called, as the roar of the sword died down. “Bring the pick and shovel.”

You pulled the tools from the sled and made your way to the hole-in-progress. In order to support the weight of three space marines (and especially the earlier stomping), the ice was undoubtedly thick. This pass with the chainsword had not even been close to reaching the water below. Hodr reached down to grapple with the large slab of ice that had been cut away while you worked on extricating the smaller shards. Once the site was cleared, Asmundr gently pulled you a step back as Ægir began his next series of cuts. This process repeated three times before a sufficient opening was formed.

Standing, you wiped the snow off of your knees and pushed the ice shards nearest the opening away with your boot. Suddenly, you felt something thick and heavy land across your back and weigh down on your shoulders. You were almost embarrassed about the surprised yelp you let out, but it was worth it to hear the youngest of the wolves let out a full bellied laugh.

“I trust you to keep this warm for me, vennen min!” Asmundr’s voice bounced with mirth behind you. You rearranged the large pelt he had thrown on you as you turned to face him. And quickly decided to look anywhere else as he undressed to the fullest extent possible.

“O-Of course, my lord.” You elected to keep your head pointed towards the sky as you extended your hands to take the remainder of his clothes. You could clearly hear the other two wolves snickering behind the sound of blood rushing through your ears. It did not seem nearly as cold out as it did just a few minutes ago.

Asmundr placed the wad of clothes in your hands with a smirk before leaning into the sled to fetch his polespear.

“Be ready, brother,” Ægir said as he nudged Hodr bodily. “You’ll have to make up the pup’s slack.”

The young pup bristled in agitation before he sharply pivoted on his brothers with a note of forced laughter. Coincidentally, you suddenly received a full view of all his glory.

“Ha! Afraid you’re not gonna be able to keep up, old man?”

You forced your eyes not to wander below his ribs, which was very difficult as he stood with his chest puffed out and fists confidently resting on his hips. Your face felt so hot that you thought the ice would melt under your feet and swallow you whole.

Despite your years in service to the Vlka Fenryka, you doubted that you’d ever understand just how…comfortable they seemed to be in their plain skin. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact they were Astartes, specifically. You’d imagine it would be difficult to feel vulnerable in any state with the physique of one of the Emperor’s Angels.

“Worried that you’ll drive the best game away in your haste.” Hodr’s voice sounded suddenly closer than you anticipated. Your heart jumped when you felt his hand reach around from behind you, lifting your chin to look Asmundr in the eyes and gently squishing your cheeks together. “It just won’t do if there isn’t enough to go around.” The narrowing of the younger wolf’s pupils was almost hidden by the steam billowing from his flared nostrils. “We can’t have thralls of skin and bone.” His whisper tickled your ear, sending a shiver shooting up your spine.

“I do not leave her wanting,” Asmundr snarled, closing the distance and gripping Hodr’s wrist tightly. You could hear something creak beneath your chin, but the grip on your face never tightened.

“Prove it.” You could hear Hodr’s grin as he finally released you.

Oh, something in Asmundr’s eyes sparked as he threw his brother’s hand away. He spared you a brief glance as he squared his shoulders and quickly cracked his neck.

“Time me!” Asmundr yelled back to Ægir as he raced to the opening and jumped into the abyss.

The air was pregnant with silence for a moment.

“Well,” Ægir laughed, rough and gravelly, “He should be plenty motivated now!”

Ten minutes. It had already been ten minutes.

A space marine could hold his breath for approximately twenty-five minutes, or so you’d been told.

You had heard from one of the company’s Kaerls that she had once heard a story of a chapter that regularly held their breath for the better part of a standard hour. You thought it sounded a bit outlandish, but you prayed now it was true as the minutes continued ticking on.

The first several minutes were spent in a bit of an awkward silence. Or, at least, you felt it was awkward. You busied yourself by meticulously folding Asmundr’s clothes and running an inventory of the little equipment in the sled before cleaning the hole of any lingering debris. You noted that Hodr’s gaze seemed to return the distant tree line frequently while Ægir whittled away on a piece of bone.

“It’s been ten minutes.” The booming voice of the veteran seemed to rattle through your chest, and you nearly lost your footing at the sudden announcement.

 The undignified sound you made as you recovered your stance drew a chuckle from the eldest wolf.

“I’m curious,” Ægir said, pointing his knife in your direction. “What do you suppose the pup’s hunting for right now?”

You stared blankly at him.

“Fish, my lord?”

That veteran laughed, tried to control himself, and began laughing some more before he started coughing.

“You’re not wrong, thrall,” he conceded. You watched a flock of dark birds chitter and flee their roost in the distance. So far away they were like a smear against the sky.

“You know,” he started back up, dropping his gaze to return to the bone figure he was making. “I was out on campaign with the pup.” A thin flake fell away from his hands. “And it was fierce, to be sure. Well, while we were holed up in some throne-forsaken pit, the daft boy starts singing. Badly, mind you, and quiet, but singing nonetheless. And so, I ask him ‘Boy, what do you think you’re doing?’” Ægir looked up and you realized that you’d thoughtlessly drifted closer as the veteran continued. “And do you know what he tells me?”

“No, my lord.”

“He says, ‘Well, that little serf sings this when she’s in the armory, and I thought maybe it would help me focus.’” Another flake fell from his hand as he scoffs, “Focus, my missing big toe.”

Ægir looked like he was about to continue, loudly, but shut his mouth and looked past you a moment before you heard it.

A loud wet thwacking noise echoed across the empty plane and time seemed to pass slower than usual as you saw a vibrant, gleaming, blue fish that could rival the stature of terminator power armor surge out of the icy depths and caress the grey sky, before making its arched decent like an angry torpedo with needlepoint teeth.

You hadn’t survived this long in such a cruel galaxy without any wits at all, and ran to give the beast a wide berth upon its impact with the surface. Its furiously flailing body splashed little droplets of water against your form, which froze solid in the cold air.

“Ha! No wonder he likes you so much,” Ægir ribbed at you, as he seamlessly stabbed the wriggling thing through the back of its head, piercing whatever brain it could have. “You scurry about like ei lita kanin!”

The burning retort that had definitely been on the tip of your tongue was tragically cut short by a sudden series of muted vibrations that traveled up your legs. Something was hitting the ice…

Your feet were moving before you could think. What help could you realistically offer Asmundr from here? You could not dive into the freezing water, you could not drag him back to safety, you could not even pull his body up onto shore without dislocating your shoulder in the attempt. But you knelt stupidly by the hole anyways; you had to be as close to his side as possible, in case he needed you. Because you would do all those useless things if he so much as hesitated in telling you not to.

Not long after, the surface of the water began bursting with bubbles of air from the depths, bringing with them deep oily blood. You called out to him, as if he would be able to hear you meters away and underwater.

“Mundi! Are you okay?!”

Time seemed to drag on for an eternity as the bubbling died down and the water remained still.

You had just started to loosen the straps of your outermost layers to dive in yourself when a crimson streak began racing towards the surface. You could feel your heart fall back into place.

Asmundr’s red hair clung to his forehead and neck as he beamed at you in pride. Or, as best he could.

The spear he lifted out of the water held four native fish, each easily as long as your arm and thicker around than both of your thighs. A massive bony fish with pearlescent armor still wiggled in his maw, cracked where his fangs dug tightly into its flesh. He threw the spear up onto the ice before hefting his bulk out of the hole.

Sitting on the ledge of the ice beside you, he pulled the fish from his teeth. His smug smile showcased the gleaming red that clung to his canines and dripped down his chin. He glanced about briefly before his expression morphed into one of confusion.

“Where’s Hodr?”

Oh. You hadn’t even noticed he’d left.

“Not far,” Ægir said. “He picked up a scent while you were out.”

“Are you okay, Mundi?” You had been keenly looking him over for any obvious injuries he may have sustained since he surfaced. He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but maybe he just rammed the ice with his thick head. You stood up to get a better look. “It sounded like you hit the ice pretty hard.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t near the ice at all.” Rivulets of water trickled down Asmundr’s body, his core temperature just enough to keep the water from freezing against his skin in the cold air. “Are you sure you’re not the one that hit the ice?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed by his teasing tone. You were just relieved that he was okay.

Asmundr’s gaze turned sharply from you to the horizon at a noise you could not hear.

“Finally done batting that pest around, Hodr?”

You turned towards Ægir’s call and watched as Hodr dragged along an enormous, white-feathered land-shark behind him.

“Six minutes,” the wolf bellowed, shaking the leg of his kill. “How long was the pup?”

“Thirteen minutes!”

Something rumbled deep in Asmundr’s chest at the veteran’s announcement and he huffed in irritation. If you hadn’t just been willing to throw yourself into the icy void after your companion out of shear worry, you would have found his pouting cute.

“Mundi,” you started softly as he plopped himself away from his brothers to work on his kills. He did not look up. He was still wet and bare and the wind was still so cold and you did not think you could handle the implausible thought of him catching a chill.

“Mundi, you need to dry off,” you chided as you unwrapped the outermost fur you wore from your waist. It would be warmer and drier than the one he placed on your shoulders, which had kept you plenty warm, but also collected a non-insignificant amount of flurries.

He grumbled something as he continued to work on dislodging his kills from the spear.

You pursed your lips before running the fur across his shoulders and up his neck, before tousling his hair the best you could. You left the fur draped across his shoulders, which he gripped closed across his chest with one hand. He remained incredibly tense before in-taking sharply and shaking his upper body vigorously. You did not escape the resulting splatter.

He tilted his head back to look you in the eyes, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you recognized amusement and joy in them.

“I’m keeping this!” Asmundr announced, sounding very pleased. “But you have to hold onto this,” he tugged slightly at the pelt that still engulfed the entirety of your upper body, “for me, in return.”

The request turned something in your chest.

“Of course,” you agreed, and you couldn’t help the smile on your lips.

 He smiled up at you in turn, his eyes softening as his gaze lingered. In that moment, it felt as if something in the universe had clicked into place. After a few seconds, he abruptly looked back down and dragged the armored fish over to him.

“And,” he drew the word out for a long moment, as he began carving familiar runes into the pearlescent plating with his spear. “You need to make good use of this.” He passed you the fish barring your name, and you had to steel yourself to keep from tumbling under the weight of it.

[surelysilly]

in hell is a warm place au, how did Danny react to crow dying?

actually thank you so MUCH for asking me this because it actually helped me figure out what Lark's reaction, finally, would be with Danny after too

but pretty much kicked dog

(or, tldr, that duffle bag of heads included someone familiar and important to Mr Suit and Tie)

“Goose.” Danny blinks, twists the cigarette around to one corner of his mouth, and frowns at Lark through the blue haze of smoke and the flicker of strobing lights. Around him, the people at the table twitter. Danny scowls half-heartedly, folding up his hand of cards at a playful tease of Oooh, someone's in trouble from the too warm body threaded lightly across his lap. The tips of Tesla's nails trace the outside of his bottom lip, the smear of gel rouge. “C'mon, I'm not —” he starts, but maybe slurs, because he's elbow deep into his second bottle of tequila, the back of his hands tacky with lime and salt and lipstick. But also doesn't get to finish because. Well. The gambling den is, in fact, Lark's pet project, so. What she says, goes. Even if that means she upends a whole table of black jack under the boom of the club's bass at a not so insignificant monetary loss. Danny lets the smoke fall from his lips, the cards from his hands, and raises them high as his fair-weather friends immediately scatter with yelps at flung chips and glass.  The music doesn't stop. And neither does Lark.  A hand wraps up in the loose collar of his shirt, hauls him up from his seat. Danny… should probably be worried about this. It's kind of. Hard to be. He doesn't get to drink this hard or much too often, but today was special. Tesla even shared her favorite lip liner because— “— fucking doing, you piece of shit?” Lark hisses, and nails him right in the stomach with the snap of a fist. “Answer your fucking phone!” “Fuck!” Danny squeaks, folding. Ow. Today is a bad day to get disciplined for fuck all — “Lark, what the hell —” He's dragged down onto her knee, and. Breathing is optional. He remembers that. Jesus Christ. Danny gasps, and just. Hits the floor when she lets go.  The music doesn't stop. Lark's boot drives hard into his stomach once, twice, thrice, and Danny feels every inch of, of the grief like needled spikes to the back of his eyes.  A laugh escapes his lips, and the next kick splays him out on his back. Danny wheezes, desperate to hold on to it but — the warm haze dissipates entirely just like that.  “What, what, why would Bossman —” “You were supposed to have been with her!” Boot, meet side, again. Fuck. “Why the fuck weren't you with Crow, you fucking drunk!” Crow? This is about Crow? But he. She let him have the two days off; it's his — “You were supposed to be with her!” “I —” Lark bends, her dark silhouette rushing up so fast, and all Danny can do is try to breath through the pain as she lifts him again by the now ruined front of his shirt.  “Crow is dead, Goose,” she spits low, just for him, and he. Doesn't believe her. Can't believe her. “W-What?” he gasps, hands finding hers, fluttering in disbelief. “Lark, Crow can't be —” “You were supposed to be with her,” Lark repeats, and shakes him. “Why the fuck weren't you with her?” Crow isn't dead. She can't be.  Danny swallows and says Lark, t-this isn't funny, what the hell is going — She drops him, his head banging back against the unforgiving concrete and —  “C-Crow let me off for —” Lark hops back, then forward. Danny's head snaps sideways from the kick, under the crack of his nose. It hurts. The music doesn't stop. It's my birthday, Lark, did you forget?

he should have been there. so he gets harder on Finch (Stephanie) too. tries to stop drinking, and then goes thru withdrawal and rebounds worse than litu Danny ever would

he just... kind of forgot that everyone around him dies, and its always his fault...

poor thing just wanted a day off for his twenty fourth bday,,,