#bark this out somewhere

[pengwynevere]

Gods

We got caged recently

Its

Awruf

Really fun and nice and kinda good for dysphoria lately tbh but also just

Dogs

Fuck

We're so pent up and needy rn

Warrff!!

Bawruwruff

Someone come fuck this stupid mutt!!! UTwT</3

[popfizzles]

Please tell me Smith would also support his sister if he knew. I really like Smith as a character (despite what happened with Mac)

My tags on that post go a little more in depth about Smith's side of things;

Do I think Smith was at some point in his life, a little susceptible to homophobia? Maybe a little. He's from a rural, likely hyper-religious upbringing. Been "the man of the house" longer than he can remember.

But Mugman’s very openly queer. Mojito’s entire character arc is coming to terms that he's been sitting on feelings for his male roommate for years. And Smith would kill for either of them, no questions asked.

Smith already went through what he needed to be normal about the topic of different sexualities.

He doesn't talk with Mac or Goldie about their love lives and sexualities, but less because he would be judgemental about it, and more that he doesn't want to pry or hover over his little brother and sister's personal lives.

If she ever told him, he'd do his damnedest to make sure she knew that he still loves her and it changes nothing.

[invader-sparkelhuzky]

sometimes i think about this interaction I had when i was like 8, I still dont get what her end goal was

[mwagneto]

forced to witness the hungarian nouveau riche. these people suck ass

[pvrrhadve]

2024 is gonna go down as the year my dogs Fucking Died, both my parents had major surgery, my sinuses collapsed for no fucking reason and the first woman who matched with me on the dating app i was just trying to get a haphazard and unideal little hookup on only matched with me to check if i was alright bc my bio was a little too alarming

[cheriecelestial]

NIGHTWING #109

Release date 19 Dec 2023

Cover artist: Jamal Campbell

[alebrijediscordico]

screaming crying clawing at my face

pinches mudanzas culeras o(-(

[scrollll]

Boys beware...

Attention!

This man WILL chew through your sneakers and your ankles, especially if you have nice eyelashes, a rainbow keyboard, a carreer as a journalist and if you are currently sleeping with his love interest.

<prev next>

[godsprettiestprincess]

I wrote part of an essay about this but along the same vein as “logic doesn’t mean cruelty, often it actually means empathy” it does drive me insane how Lucifer’s pride could and would I think make him less “evil.” Like, he first goes against God because he thinks things should be different, should be better not only because that’s what he deserves but for his siblings too! He’s more than aware of his own power and status and is willing to use that to go, this is wrong, I could do better when push comes to shove about having to fight Michael and such

[mwagneto]

HUNGARY MENTIONED!!!!!!! my irls are all huge hell fans for. some reason so i got a sippy from one of them on like the day this came out and it is like, mid to bad. 0/10 stop using ai

[wraithsoutlaws]

ff16 oc is still living rent free in my head unfortunately so. subjecting you to him.

[watatsumiis]

My computer is fucked frfr :((

[alebrijediscordico]

rubbing my hands on my face. swagever, here we go again

<- trying to write again

[caedogeist-rights]

theres something so sweet abt my dog asking me to come with her every night so she can drink water and then go to bed. i dont know why i have to be there but she requires it and i. simply must. she insists.

there is also something so annoying about my dog whining at me just when im about to fall asleep every night so i can watch her drink water out of a bowl 20 feet away from my bed. i love her.

[companionwolf]

Wrote something with F/O!Central, in the ... not verse but the 'the way I imagine him, the way I see him' garden in my heart thing. That whatever it is.

Anyway the point is it's about Amber.

TW/CWs for pet loss, implied pet death, grief, briefly mentioned suicidal ideation (as a result of grief), mention of relative death.

There is a cat in the garden.

Or well, the memory of one, anyway. The garden and its wider world are not a real place, and so intangiles can exist there as if they were.

The point is it wasn't here before.

There was clues, maybe, but Central's a idea, not a person, not someone who is beyond what is needed and wanted, and doesn't know what would tip a actual living human to the presence of a actual living cat.

Not that he doesn't know what a cat is-- he does, he even likes them. Not as much as the Commander but they associate the animal in general with him so he's developed a affinity. 

Anyway, the cat sits amongst the vegetables, brushing up against a gourd and meowing at him. It's black and white and orange, with green yellow eyes. It's a little bit fat too. Central gives it a frown. "What are you doing here?"

The cat meows again.

And then Central is brought to his knees, a sudden crack of lighting across the sky and rumble of thunder, as a downpour begins all quite at once, and he sinks under the weight of--

What is this?

He knows this. Sort of. Enough to name it.

Grief.

A name, then-- this is Amber. And that's important somehow, this memory in the shape of a cat, that that was it's -- no, her name. Understanding dances just out of Central's reach. This is important. It's important because she was loved. It's important because she was theirs.

Theirs?

The Commander's, Central realizes from his place in the garden soil, and he is so close to grasping the meaning of it all he can faintly taste it. He struggles to pull himself upright. Amber has bolted at the sudden noise, and he scans the foliage of the garden's plants for her. No dice.

The rain is freezing cold and hard, and Central races for the house, and there she is. Amber stands by the front door, and she is screaming. Well, meowing, but incessant. She's getting her message across in any case. She wants inside.

Central comes up onto the porch, bends down and picks her up; she struggles in his arms.

"Relax," he says. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Central heads inside, leaving his boots by the door and going into the living room where he deposits the cat onto the couch. She stands there only momentarily before she is under a different lovseat, staring at him with big eyes.

"You're their pet," he says, mostly to himself.

Amber does not say anything. She is the memory of a cat, and cats don't talk.

Central ponders-- what do cats need?

She doesn't actually require anything to exist just like him, besides the Commander wanting it, but it gives him things to do to need things like entertainment and hobbies and water and food and hygiene management and even the grosser parts of what being a human should be, and it'd be nice to take care of something.

Plus, he likes cats. They made him that way so this works out besides the fact he doesn't actually really know what they need to live.

Food, water. Exercise, probably -- do cats have toys? Sleep-- some kind of bed? Things to keep healthy. Medication, maybe.

He nods, and as the things come to his mind, the world adjusts, makes them so Amber will need these just like he has to eat and drink and rest and occupy himself. Not to the point of death -- ideas live forever, and memories almost as much -- but enough to make existence here feel rounded out.

Amber is still under the loveseat.

Central thinks. She's probably hungry, probably wants water. It would be as easy as a thought to have such appear but he wants the effort of it, so he goes to the cupboard and produces the smallest two bowls he can which he fills, one with water from the tap and one with chopped up chicken pieces.

He sets them down near the loveseat for her. Outside, the rain pours. He can hear it bear against the walls and fall upon the roof. They're spiraling. Central feels a ache in his chest, sighs.

I'm here, he thinks. I'm here. You aren't by yourself with this, whatever it is. You're never alone. They can't hear it, or so he's pretty sure, but he always tries anyway. Just in case.

He looks back at the bowls. Amber stands at the bowl with the chicken, eating noisily. He smiles.

"You like it?" he asks. "You sure seem hungry."

She doesn't answer, but that's okay. She's eating which is more than enough. Central watches as she bolts down the meat and then drinks from the water bowl. He slides off the couch slowly and sits on the floor, reaching over to pet her.

Central isn't sure what he expects, as his fingers meet the remembrance of fur, but wharever it is it isn't what he gets.

-- just out of middle school, someone's house he doesn't know, three little kittens all dumped on the property under the care of a woman he cant identify, pick one this is for you --

-- weight on his chest purr in his ears meow meow meow meow here is my babycat here is her babyfat I go pat pat pat nickname after nickname --

-- she goes with me she gets to be free too how am i going to bring her I can't care for her I'm so afraid but I can't leave her here I can't leave her here I can't --

-- I want her to live a long long time, transitioning away from outside inside cat life, why aren't they listening, but they see the cat came back so it's all okay --

-- HE LET HER OUT HE KILLED MY BABY AND HE DOESNT CARD THEY DONT CARE I SHOULD HAVE PUT THE COLLAR ON HER I SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE AGGRESSIVE I SHOULD HAVE --

-- pawboost tumblr discord friends, less than 20% without a collar ever come home, kitty convict, GPS collar orange collar, shelter pages is that a match, FUCKING SCAMMER, I WANT TO DIE --

-- it's been almost 2 months --

-- I love you babycat --

-- I miss you babycat --

Central comes to sobbing. The cat has stayed very still, but as he regains his sense and self she moves away, moving to investigate the living room proper. He watches her, taking slow deep breaths, trying to remember him verus them.

He understands now though. At least somewhat.

He's seen death. He knows the concept, has sat with his commander through it. This though... this is different. There's a element of uncertainty and that only amplifies everything else it is.

There's something he's missing, he knows it. Still, Central bows his head, closes his eyes.

I'm so sorry, Commander.

Central sits. Amber explores. The rain continues. Eventually, he falls asleep, and when he wakes the rainfall has eased up a little, and also there is a cat sleeping on him. And she's vibrating.

Purring, he remembers. This matches what he knows that to be, the noise contented cats makes. Central doesn't move much, just goes to pet her again, hesitating only slightly. He is not launched into her, finds instead her soft fur.

She must know I'm them, in the end, he thinks.

Something clicks then, as he's had time to think. Amber did not die. Well, to be fair, he thinks, the Commander does not know that. That's part of it, the not knowing. That makes it all worse. She got out. She was lost. She was not found. Truly deeply missing in action.

Central tries again then.

Commander, she's here. She's with me. And I'm with you, and that's for always, as long as you want. She's here. It's OK.

A pause.

I mean it's not. It's OK if it's not. Whatever you're feeling is too. Just know you'll get through. It won't be easy but... you know. And she's here. Kinda the same way I am. The semantics don't matter much. The point is she isn't gone. Not really. She's just here with me and I'm with you. Try to remember, OK? She loves you. I do too.

No response.

He sighs. The memory of Amber continues to purr from her perch on him. Somewhere beyond them both, beyond the house and garden and its world, the Commander cries and grieves.

You were my friend, he sees them write. The very best. Central likes that a lot. He looks at Amber in the eye; she returns his gaze almost human.

"Thank you, Amber," he says. "For taking care of them as long as you did. For being there when I couldn't be, in that world. For being their friend."

Her purr grows deeper, louder.

And Central remembers then, something he read through their eyes once, before when the people they were related to that live where they wish go kept dying one after another, as the rainstorm's winds howl along with his mourning commander. He remembers something that had hurt and helped them at the same time to see.

Grief is just love with nowhere to go.

[the-angel-of-the-bottomless-pit]

ver sleepy but, thoughts.

look i dont have one yet but im trying to do the math if i could fit a postal dude plush in. m e

I WOULDN'T DO IT, (i dont know where he's been) IT'D BE UNCOMFORTABLE AND I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO WASH HIM WELL.. but goddamn it'd be funny.. postal dude in the pussy...