#does she have the fetching instincts of a dog?

[away-ward]

Can you imagine: You finally go on a date with the guy you've been secretly dating...

after literally all of your friends and his have agreed to do everything they can to keep your relationship away from the prying eyes of the secret police his crazy controlling mother has following him...

specifically to keep him away from you...

and then you just blast yourself across every available screen in the city while on that date??

I'd die.

[cumikering]

Werewolf Keegan x reader 9 (end)

1.7k | fluff Well, yes, but if a wolf runs around unattended, they’re going to call animal control (part 1)

Keegan made good on his promise that he’d clean up after himself.

With the way he loved to cuddle you as a wolf, even the biggest lint rollers wouldn’t suffice so he compensated by vacuuming your place every day. But not without giving Raider the side eye, because of course he had to help out. Some of the fluff was his too after all.

You really spoilt him, didn’t you? The K9 only watched his handler as he panted among the avalanche of chew toys you got him (his favourite was still the phone one though), and wouldn’t even clean his own dog bed with the lint roller.

Keegan took a two-week leave to take care of Raider who was anticipated to take a few months to recover before he could get back in the field. Fortunately, he was healing fast, already standing the week after and moving about.

Keegan decided to crash at your place meanwhile. ‘It’s closer to the vet hospital,’ he reasoned, but he knew you knew it was more than that. You said you didn’t mind as long as he kept the floof in check.

It felt natural to be around you like this. Driving you to and from work, cooking dinner with you, watching the TV after. It was hard to believe he lived so long without this, believing he was perfectly happy too.

And to think this all started with his curse.

His wolf had never been happier too, being in your space. Head empty, no thoughts, just his peanut as he drifted off to sleep.

You said it was strange the first few times he spooned you in bed as a wolf and suddenly shifted back when he lost his consciousness to sleep. The floof disappeared in a split second, replaced by his heavy arm around your waist which startled you.

Even that he was hesitant at first, he was pleasantly surprised with how welcoming you were to his peculiarity. Like when he approached you with hot cheeks a few days into staying at yours.

“Peanut,” he said in a small voice, eyes not meeting yours. “Would it be okay, if maybe, you can play tug of war with me?”

Your brow rose.

“I mean, it’s totally fine if not! It’s just I need exercise and Raider can’t play yet,” he rambled.

“Of course! We can play fetch too if you want.”

His eyes brightened, thinking of that time when his first instinct was to run after the toy you threw for Raider. “Oh, I’ve never tried that before, but that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“We can have a run at the park too, so we don’t have to go on a hike. If you’ve got an owner, no one’s going to call animal control on you.”

He tilted his head. “I am not going to be leashed.”

“But can you imagine how big of a tranquiliser dart they’re going to use on your wolf otherwise?” You stifled a laugh. “Probably as big as my forearm.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. You knew he wasn’t a fan on needles. “We’ll go hiking when Raider’s better.”

Your laugh always made him happy, like when he pulled the rope toy too hard on purpose to wrestle you on the floor. You never won against the giant wolf no matter how much you tried, and he was glad of it because he loved nuzzling you from above, your giggles filling the room.

He sent his mum pictures of the both of you, some of your cooking too, always thrilled at every opportunity to say you were his. He was to visit her with you when Raider got better, but meanwhile video calls would have to do.

“Aw, look at the both of you! Aren’t you adorable, sweetie?” his mum cooed, the phone a little too close to her face.

“She’s a cheek pincher,” Keegan said. “Here, I’ll do it on her behalf.” He reached over to pinch you lightly.

Mrs. Russ laughed. “I hope you’re feeding him well. He eats like he’s still growing, but can barely cook. Make sure he does the dishes at least!”

You let out a chuckle.

“She does! She makes the best PB sandwiches.” It was true - they were better than his and he didn’t understand why. “When we visit, she’ll make you some.”

His mum was not a werewolf nor was she a fan of PB, but he firmly believed the love for it would transcend all.

Before Ghosts’ next mission, he took you out to meet his teammates for dinner. You were a little bashful from all the attention you got when they tried to get to know you. Especially from Ajax and Kick, who were mostly baffled by how you could spare “the creepy, frowning guy” a second glance.

“I can get you an angel shot,” Ajax said.

“Blink three times if you need help,” Kick whispered.

Regardless the teasing, Keegan grinned at the fact he got to call you his peanut.

However, the closer it was to the 7th full moon, Keegan grew restless, but not because of his urges. With how well and fast you fit into his life, he couldn’t even remember what it was like without you. He was terrified he bond wasn’t going to work and he’d lose everything again.

He didn’t doubt your feelings, even that he had to admit he felt clingy sometimes, wanting you to tell him how much you felt towards him. He was glad you never complained, but was kind regarding his needs, taking care of him.

The night of the full moon, he took you out on a date, somewhere special with a live cello player. At your door, he presented a bouquet of your favourite flowers. He made sure it was bigger than the one Blake sent and that the card didn’t fall off (not like you needed it since he brought it over personally). A little petty, he had to admit, but he had to show you he was cooler than your uni friend and could survive far more than a few punches.

You dressed up, your hair done, smelling wonderful and he couldn’t keep his hands off you. His peanut. Fuck, he still couldn’t believe you were his. Under the clothed table, he squeezed your knee.

The hours rolled past as you enjoyed the haunting performance, his arm along the back of your seat while your hand rested on his thigh. He started bouncing his leg, something he almost never did.

“It’s going to work.” You squeezed his thigh.

“I’m not worried,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes fixated on the cello player.

“You won’t be a wolf. We’ll visit your mum and have her cooking, and you’ll show me your band poster collection, okay?”

He gave you a crooked smile, hand gripping yours.

Outside, the moon beamed bright against the cloudless sky. Fresh out of the shower, you sat in bed next to him, his chest bare, soft from the hot water, lower half under the comforter. The bedside lamp shed enough light to illuminate the way your lips pulled into a thin line. His arms wrapped around you and you let out a shaky breath against him.

“You can tell me to stop any time, and… Just in case.” He reached for his blade on the nightstand, handing it to you. “I love you, okay?”

You nodded and he peeled off the comforter that covered him before shifting. You bared your neck to his wolf, brows furrowed as your eyes closed.

He whimpered, nuzzling your neck. I love you, peanut.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you mumbled.

He puffed out steady breath before positioning his fangs on your neck, feeling you shudder under him. You gripped his mane, yelping when he sank into you. Your blood was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and with your addicting scent filling him, it was too easy to stay put, but he shifted back immediately.

“You did good, peanut.” He kissed the corner of your eyes where tears had pricked. “Now we wait.”

In the dead of night, he jerked awake, breathing heavily. With the movement, you woke too.

“You okay?” You rubbed his chest, fingers ever comforting through the fuzz.

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Yeah, I think. Did you have a dream?”

“We were in the woods, at full moon.”

He held his breath as his heart raced.

“Your wolf and I were walking to the cabin in the distance. I was barefoot-“

“In a white dress,” he said under his breath.

You nodded, beaming.

“It worked.” He chuckled in disbelief, gripping your shoulders. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Your arms wrapped around him. “We’re mates now, Keegan. For life.”

Months later, Raider fully recovered and was back in the field with his handler. You and Keegan got a new place between your old places, somewhere without carpeted floors because he’d grown sick of the vacuuming. Life slipped into a rhythm.

He took you to his home and greeted his mum with a kiss on the cheek. You said her lasagna was as great as he always hyped it up to be. Much to his chagrin, she was swift, and vey excited, to show you his childhood photos. He groaned. The memory of him rocking a bowl cut for the entirety of primary school was humiliating, but with a giggle, you reassured he looked cute with his signature icy stare. He didn’t believe you.

Keegan carried your luggage up the stairs with Raider padding behind, nails clicking against floor. His mum never changed a thing in his bedroom since he left, his emo band posters still almost lined the entirety of the walls. He stared at the one behind the door and contemplated if you’d like him in one of those haircuts. There would be more to pat after all (and it surely wouldn’t be as hideous as a damn bowl cut).

At bedtime, in his cramped bed, you huddled facing each other.

“I guess we should have stayed at a hotel after all.”

He shrugged. “You know, if we were both wolves, we would fit perfectly fine here.”

You smiled, tracing your neck where his bite marks had faded. “Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all.”

Thank you so much everyone for reading my silly doggo story! I had mad fun writing this and I'm glad you stuck around until the end :D take care x

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @astraluminaaa @shadowlali @eve-lie @reelovesfictionalmen @writeforfandoms @milkteaarttime

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

THE TIME MY DOG WAS UNDER ACADEMIC PRESSURE.

GUESS WHO CHUGGED DOWN AN ENTIRE CAN OF (POMEGRENATE WINTER EDITION) RED BULL IN UNDER HALF AN HOUR? THIS GUY! IT DIDN'T TASTE LIKE CHERRY PISS SO MY BRAIN DIDN'T REGISTER IT AND I JUST SORTA DOWNED IT.

I'M NOW RUNNING ON CAFFEINE AT A QUARTER TO 4 AM AND SPITE FOR THE EDUCATION SYSTEM.

YOU KNOW WHAT'S FUCKING INSANE EVEN MY DOGGY SISTER, ROXIE (A LOT OF Y'ALL KNOW HER, SHE'S CURRENTLY SULKING FOR FOOD) ISN'T SAFE FROM THE ACADEMIC PRESSURE.

SO, AS MOST OF Y'ALL KNOW, I DROPPED OUT OF DESIGN SCHOOL IN NOVEMBER BECAUSE OF BULLYING ETC. SO THEN THERE I WAS, BACK HOME, TAKING ROXIE DOWN FOR A WALK.

AND I LIVE IN AN APARTMENT. SO WHILE WE WERE GETTING TO THE GATE, THIS PINT-SIZED LIL KID COMES UP TO US. FULL SCHOOL GET UP, BUTTON DOWN, BACKPACK, TIE, BELT, THE WORKS. THE ONLY THING STANDING BETWEEN THIS MINIATURE VICTIM OF INDIAN EDUCATION AND A JOB IN IT AT INFOSYS IS TIME, LIKE THE GOOD OMENS BOOK SAID (KINDA).

IT'S AFTERNOON, SO CLEARLY HE'S BEEN DROPPED OFF AT THE GATE. BEAR IN MIND THIS GUY'S PROBABLY BARELY HIGHER THAN MY KNEE. AND YET I FEAR HIM. WHY? I DO NOT KNOW YET. BUT HE APPROACHES ROXIE AND GREETS HER.

THEN HE SAYS WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO GO TO SCHOOL?

AH, FUCK, I THINK. HERE WE GO. THE APARTMENT NOSIES HAVE BEGUN TO WONDER WHY MY STUPID ASS IS BACK HOME. I SIGH AND SAY, WHO, ME? OUT OF INSTINCT.

AND THIS SHARE-PACK-LAYS-SIZED KID SAYS COOLLY, NO, ROXIE.

HAHA, I THINK, OKAY THAT'S FUNNY. SHE'S NOT, I SAY.

MINI-ENGINEER LOOKS AT ME, FILLED WITH POLITE CONFUSION. SHE DOESN'T GO TO SCHOOL?

I REALISE THIS KID MIGHT ACTUALLY BE SERIOUS. OKAY, CUTE. I REPLY, QUITE REASONABLY, THAT NO SHE DOESN'T.

HE NODS, UNDERSTANDING. SO SHE'S GOING TO START TODAY?

WHAT THE FUCK, I THINK BUT DON'T SAY.

AT THIS POINT, REALISING HE IS DEALING WITH SOMEONE OF INFERIOR INTELLECT TO HIM, THE MICROBE-AU OF STEVE JOBS EXPLAINS PATIENTLY TO ME:

THERE IS A DOG SCHOOL OPENED UP NEAR THE APARTMENT. HE IS GENUINELY CONCERNED FOR ROXIE'S EDUCATION. AND IF SHE HASN'T STARTED ALREADY, CLEARLY SHE MUST BE STARTING TODAY. OR SHE WILL BE BEHIND OTHER DOGS.

IT IS AT THIS POINT THAT I LAUGH AWKWARDLY, QUICKLY MUTTER TO ROXIE TO COME WITH ME IN FRENCH AND WE BOTH SKEDADDLE THE FUCK OUT OF THERE.

HELP THEY'RE TRYING TO GET THE DOGS INTO THE EDUCATION SYSTEM TOO IS NOTHING SACRED ROXIE MAY NOT FETCH BALLS BUT SHE CAN UNDERSTAND ENGLISH, TAMIL, TELUGU AND FRENCH, DOES MOST THINGS WITHOUT ANY TRAINING, CAN RECOGNISE MY MUM'S PHONE BUT NOT A STICK (IT'S FINE, SHE'S GEN ALPHA, IT HAPPENS) AND SHE WOULD ABSOLUTE ROT IN DOG SCHOOL.

BUT HOW WILL SHE MAKE IT IN THIS FAST PACED WORLD WITHOUT HER DOGGY DIPLOMA, HUH? HOW, MAGGOTS?

ONE REBLOG EQUALS ONE COLLEGE CREDIT FOR POOR ROXIE AND HER HOMESCHOOLING (THIS IS A JOKE DO NOT BLOW THIS POST UP I WILL REGRET IT SO MUCH DURING MY CAFFEINE CRASH DO NOT TOUCH THE REBLOG BUTTON)

[jades-typurriter]

Gal Pals + Your First Howl

A POV transformation thing: your closest friends are werewolves, they get you in on it, and they sit with you through the process of your first transformation! @bluebearial (the BESTIE) collaborated on this, basically just passing the draft back and forth; her writing is in purple and mine is in blue. PLEASE go check her out she's a fantastic artist and has more lovely and intimate writing like this on her blog

CW: they're gay werewolves. these girls are doing lots of petting and sniffing

Gloomy. That’s the one word that could describe this night. The sky is a deep grey. Thunder, far in the distance, still makes itself known in the form of a near-constant rumble. Despite the blanket of cloud that covers the sky, a pale glow could still be seen. Lycanthropy, as you had recently found out, doesn’t require direct moonlight to take effect. Just the presence of it is enough to make you itch. For new instincts to crop up. You wish you knew about this going in, but thankfully, your friends are a lot more experienced than you. Even better, they’re here to ride it out with you.

“I know the picture of like, breaking into a clearing in the woods, and having the moon behind you and everything when you transform for the first time is really cool,” trills Fetch, and even through the buzz of excitement and anxiety, you know where this is going. You’ve known it since English Lit. in college; it’s had a point-by-point for everything since even before then. “But not a ton of people actually get to do that! It’s like, part of the lycanthrope experience that gets sanitized and simplified a lot for wider audiences. Sooooo many movies do this bit, and the weather’s always perfect, and everything, but like… would you even wanna wander around in the woods on a normal day? Let alone a vulnerable one like this?”

“I dunno…~” lilts Plum, your other friend, from her place on the couch, “Days like this’re perfect for just, skulkin’ around in the dark. Scarin’ people. Like, rahh~” She even puts her paws up, showing off those amethyst-colored claws. As you watch her, you can’t help but wonder if this whole ‘lycanthropy’ thing has more of a mental effect than you’d first realized. As recently as this afternoon, she was pretty chipper! Happy to help with anything you’d need. But after the moon came out… She’s definitely the more laidback one now, compared to Fetch.

She always found at least some kind of fun in any situation, though a part of you wished she wouldn’t right at this moment. “Like, think about it. Remember when we first met? ‘N you found me diggin’ through your trash? You thought I was some kind’a dog. I wish I had a camera - remember the look on your face when I just started talking to you? Like…” She takes a pause, putting a paw up to her muzzle, trying her best not to laugh (and failing). Like her namesake, she is covered in a thick coat of purple. You remember that in her human form, she had purple highlights in her otherwise dark hair. You suppose the color of her fur was… somehow related to that? How does that even work? What would your fur look like? Yet another question you’d neglected to ask before, well. Y’know.

“Ohhhh my gosh, are you ever gonna leave me alone about that? I thought you were a lit-er-al wolf!!” Plum looks like she has something to say about that, but Fetch cuts her off: “I know, I know, I wasn’t wrong. You did turn out to be a huge bitch,” it says, voice saccharine and head tilting cutely to the side. Plum reaches over you to bop it with her paw, leaving you acutely aware of your position, sandwiched between your two friends. Squished, almost: both of them are much bigger than they are as humans, and they take up much more of the couch, too. You blush as her paw passes by your face—it’s bigger than your whole head. Thinking about Plum lurking out of sight, rummaging around with those powerful things… Thinking about how your own hands might be like that soon enough. You’d pipe up to ask about how soon to expect more changes, but it would be, what, the tenth time you asked? Plus, you’re not sure you want to draw attention to yourself if the partners start play-fighting. Well, maybe you would… But it’d probably be safer to wait until after your change.

But still. On one side, Fetch’s dense, cream fur coddles your arm and part of your leg, acting as a big, fluffy cushion. On the other side, Plum is really invading your personal space a bit as she tries to reach over at her partner. Being caught between a pair of - how tall are they– one, two, three… - six foot tall wolves has you squirming a bit. Partly to get comfy, and partly because… oh wow. This is really happening. Up until a few years ago, you’d figured werewolves weren’t, y’know, real? Your heart flutters. Your stomach tightens a bit, causing you to shudder - anything to somehow vent these feelings. You clench your fists and oh my god, were your fingernails always this sharp? They dig into your palms, causing you to relax your grip. Remembering the situation at hand - or was it ‘at paw’, Plum cranes her neck a bit to look down at you. At least, you’d assume that’s what she’s doing. Her snout is just about the only thing keeping her fluffy, full mane from completely covering her face.

“Hey, hey, listen dude,” she does her best to soothe you, “We’re gonna be here for you, alright? It’ll be like, kinda weird at first. Um, maybe a little scary? I dunno. But, like, once you get over the hump, it’ll feel sooo~o good. You’re gonna feel all soft ‘n like, fluffy ‘n stuff. Like, bwbwbwbwbwb.” She demonstrates in her own weird way, putting her paws to her own cheeks and rubbing them. Her ears, a little droopier than you’d expect from a wolf, flop from side to side as she bleps her tongue out at you. You do feel a bit more relaxed admittedly… Though, there’s another thing you hadn’t thought about before.

Werewolves smell. They don’t smell bad, really, though you wonder if there’s something else making you think that. They just have… a scent, one that’s hard to describe beyond… furry, and thanks to your spot between your two friends, they were basically hotboxing you with it. Every whiff of it makes you feel just a bit more, like, relaxed and stuff. I mean, these are your friends. They’re helping you through this. It’s just what the pack does for one another.

Fetch leans down, reaching behind you to put one paw on each of your shoulders, reassuring you. Well, trying to reassure you; getting so close is giving you another waft of Wolf Girl, and as familiar and calming as it is—you wonder if maybe you already knew what the two of them smelled like, and you’re just starting to recognize your friends the way dogs do—it’s starting to make your head spin. Or maybe that’s the changes, too…

“It really, really means a lot to us that we’re the ones you wanted to help you with this, bestie. Now, someone could have been a little bit gentler about infecting you,” it snips, pointing its snout accusingly at Plum. Oh, yeah. That’s where you recognize her smell from. She all but bowled you over when you had asked the two of them to bite you, and you… still thought about her weight on you fairly often. You wish you could stop thinking about it for, like, a second so you don’t seem like a flustered, shaky nerd, but it’s harder to forget it with every breath.“But the trust is still really sweet! And like, now I get to repay you for being so understanding when I came out, yeah?” It perks up its ears, smiling down at you. You (mercifully) lose yourself in that memory for a moment instead; you see its tail whipping back and forth behind it, and realize, yeah, you’ve been friends for a long time. You’re, like, besties! It always makes you giggle when Fetch calls you that. And you do trust them! Even if they’re a bit silly, you know the two of them are looking out for you. You’re in good paws.

“Yeah! We like, tooo~tally got you, dude. It’ll be a-okay,” she reassures you. “You’re like, basically our best friend so, like, y’know….

You blink a few times, shaking your head as your hearing gets more and more muffled. Wh,what’s happening? It’s as if your ears were suddenly plugged. You can’t hear anything now. Just as quickly as it happens, it seems to stop.

“Oh, huh.”

It’s not until you hear her voice again that you calm down. Though - wow, um, that was a bit loud?? You grimace, wondering just what caused her to shout like that. It was as if her voice gained a ton more bass all of a sudden. You glare up at her, opening your mouth to scold her, but you quickly realize that… like, everything is louder. The rumbling outside, the room’s ambience, even Fetch’s tail as it slaps the couch. Plum’s paw reaches down to the top of your head, where your… ears… are…? “Ohoho~ Hey, Fetch, check this out~” Like, you could just hear the excitement in Plum’s voice as beckons her partner. A pair of tall, fuzzy triangles peaks up from beneath your hair. Speaking of, has your hair gotten longer? You can like, kinda feel it brushing your shoulders… Your thoughts begin to swim as you feel your bestie’s paw just, rest upon your head like that. You want to look up at her, but something compels you to angle to head down. She holds one of your ears between her thumb and index finger, softly rubbing it between her digits. Your ear flicks in her gentle grip, instinctually moving in a way you like, really cannot control. Like, just a bit, y’know? The same, strange feeling causes your free ear to fold down, your shoulders to slump a bit… You squirm some more as the meekest little whine slips out. You rub your nose. Either that scent is getting stronger, or like, your nose is getting more sensitive. Either way… It’s enough to make you sneeze.

“Awww!” Fetch practically whispers. “The new ears are so cuuuuute! Just go easy on ‘em, Plum, you know those things are sensitive when you first get ‘em.” It bends down, poking its snout right into the ear you’ve angled away from Plum. Its voice is so quiet that it barely moves the air, but it’s still so totally clear: “How do you like ‘em, though, bestie?” You shudder, the tingle in your ear crashing down the back of your neck, along your spine, and into your tail—into your tail?! You twist around, pulling your head away from Plum’s paw (you have to suppress another whimper at the thought of no longer being petted) and, looking down, see a fluffy sprout bunching up the bottom of your shirt. Your eyes get all big, and as you get all excited about it, you watch it start wagging basically on its own? And you can feel it and it feels like you’re dancing for joy? You yell, looking back up at the two girls to either side, and Fetch yells back at you. “Oh my gosh oh my GOSH!!!” It squeals. “I can’t believe it came in so quickly!! It’s soooooo cute oh my gosh…” It pauses, then leans down conspiratorially, its own tail wagging again, energetic and out of time with yours. “Hey. You know what’d be a real fun way to scream it all out? Since we’re celebrating?” You tilt your head, feeling your ears flop with the motion, and realize that you probably look a lot like Fetch did a minute ago.

You have a good idea of what it means. If there’s one good thing about all those werewolf movies you like to watch - you kind of know the beats to this ‘story’. …That, and, your friends finding your collection is what set this into motion in the first place. Your tail wags furiously as you put your paws together. That short, stubby thing grows inch by inch, moment by moment. Every little wag it makes, it feels softer, so much softer. You start to understand what Plum meant by those fuzzy feelings. Just the sensation of having a tail at all, let alone wagging it, fills you with a euphoria you didn’t know you yearned for - a euphoria that seems to bubble up inside you. You’ve never howled before, but you’re totally not against it.

“Scream it out…?” Plum quietly asks, a little slower on the draw than you. She perks up an ear, furrowing her brow. “What, like… Oh. Ohhhh.” And she friggin’ grins. “Oh, man. It’ll be just like when we first came out. She leans a bit, squishing you between the two of them. Plum reaches out for her pawrtner’s paw, gently taking hold of it. “Remember that~? It was like, so romantic…~ Holding paws, howling together, getting nice and close after~ And like, we started getting all grabby ‘n stuff, testing each other out, and…~ And– A-Anyway,” she catches herself, sparing you the more… intimate. details, “You ready~? One, two, three!~”

“AwooOOO~OOO~~!” Angling her head up, Plum gives it her all! It starts low and slow, but ramps up in volume until it’s all you can hear. And you feel hyped! Your euphoria reaches a fever pitch, boiling over until you just can’t keep it in anymore! Why not follow your instincts, joining your besties in their symphony?

With Plum’s voice reverberating between your ears, inside your skull, coursing through your chest like the bass of the speakers at a concert, you lift your voice as well, throwing your head back and lifting your voice to match hers, at least as best you can. It cracks and scratches more than once, but you don’t care. It still sounds beautiful to you, and it’s such a rush! You feel like you’re standing through the sunroof and blasting music on the way home from a frat party; you feel like you’re on stage and your voice is carrying through a packed arena.

Fetch claps its paws together, “yay”-ing and chanting ‘go, go, go!” before finally lifting its own snout and joining the two of you. It effortlessly, naturally harmonizes with Plum—the two of them have been running as a pack for a long time, after all, and they’ve had more practice individually than you have. Still, the sound the three of you make together makes butterflies in your stomach, and then washes them away again with liquid awe. It’s like the crowd you were singing to is cheering back, a beautiful droning of joyful voices, shouting wildly and without inhibition.

You were always so jealous of the two of them, once you’d found out. They’d been your friends for years, but when they started dating, and after Fetch realized it was otherkin, Plum turned it at its request, and well—it’s a lot harder to hide two werewolves than it is to hide one. Of course, it didn’t change anything between the three of you, other than feeling a little weird about your fascination with werewolves. Being a fan of the genre, being a furry, even, felt sorta… like stereotyping them? Fetch would use the word “appropriative”, if it wasn’t currently singing its lungs out.

Now, though, after their reassurance, and after doing a bit of digging into those “weird” feelings, you just feel like you’ve been missing out! You keep howling until your throat gets tired, until you start choking on your own drool and feeling the scratchy strain on your new vocal cords. At some point, Fetch reaches out to pat you on the head again, and notices something about your shoulders.

“Dude! No way! Your coat is coming in now, too!” You finally gulp down a breath, after what feels like holding a note for an eternity (and pretty poorly, but hey, you can already feel yourself getting better!) and reach up to feel around your neck. Your hair hasn’t just gotten longer—it’s begun to crawl its way down between your shoulder blade and along your arms!

You think back to before, the way your tail first sprouted from beneath your shirt. You’re getting the same feeling now, watching your new coat spill over your shirt’s collar. You were always pretty flat, but - your cheeks start to glow as you feel your shirt ride up, buoyed by your developing bosom. If that isn’t enough, that same fur spreads across it, only adding to its mass. A thick tuft sprouts up in your cleavage, helping it to spill over the top of your collar. And god, it feels warm. You grow aware of that as you hug around it. You squeeze it in your arms, and an exhilarating feeling rumbles throughout your body. …Or, was that rumbling coming from you? One end of your mouth curls up as you growl to yourself, prompting an amused coo from Plum.

“Hey. Nice teeth.~”

You break from your self-imposed stupor for a moment, instinctively licking your teeth. They’re sharp. Especially your canines, but the rest of your teeth have grown similarly long and jagged. You whisper something resembling a ‘thank you’, too sheepish and too caught up trying to keep yourself even halfway composed. It’s a losing battle, though. Your shirt rubs up against your chest, making every little squirm a challenge to keep yourself quiet. As your coat thickens, it shimmers in the dim light. Your thoughts are harder to grip, divided among so many unfamiliar sensations. Your ears flick and swivel with every little sound. Your tail curls and wags and bats the cushion behind you. Your nose, well on its way to snoutsville is full of unfamiliar, addictive smells. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You reach out to Fetch, grabbing its arm and clinging to her. You let out a whine, rubbing your cheek against its silky fur, hoping for a lifeline as a warm, kind of itchy, but liberating feeling spreads further down your body as it is overtaken by your developing coat.

It doesn’t help you as much as you were hoping. Like, not at all. Fetch is just sooooo comfy, and you feel Plum’s paw between your ears again, and your head starts getting like… all cloudy and stuff… She gets her claws in, short little scratches that drag further and further down through your hair, down the back of your neck—soooo so sososo sensitive right now!!---and up behind your jaw, and you whiiiiiiine and just slowly slump over across Fetch’s lap. It giggles, Plum giggles, and if you weren’t so busy squirming, you might be laughing too, from the way she’s making your head swim.

With your head in its lap like that, panting from all the stimulation, you smell it even more strongly. It smells good. It makes your face burn, it gets your blood pumping, and you follow your nose to its source without a moment’s hesitation, before looking down your snout and realizing it’s pushing into her skirt, right between her legs. You freeze, eyes darting up to its face. It’s laughing harder than it was before, so like… you didn’t make it uncomfortable? Or mad? At least? Plum gives your rear (oh god you were pointing your butt straight at her) a SLAP with her heavy paw, and both of them crack up all over again at the involuntary YELP. It at least un…unsticked the gears in your brain. You apologize profusely, finally pulling your face away from Fetch’s crotch, but it reaches its paw up to cup your snout. “Bestie, don’t even worry. Everybody gets, uh… kinda excited, on their first time. I know I did!” It pauses. “I mean, me and Plum were already dating by then, so—” The mention of dating makes your face so hot that you have to bring up your own paws—when had they even finished changing!! Omigosh!!—to cover it. “Ohhhhh… I mean, hey, I wasn’t bringing that up to say we couldn’t try stuff!! New instincts, new feelings, no judgment, right? That’s what we said!” You look up at her, half-desperate and half-embarrassed, eager to hear the reassurance. “And I mean… we could try dating too, if you wanted? Right, Plum?”

“Oh, yeah,” she readily agrees, before looking down at you, “If you’re, y’know, comfortable with it. Because…” 

Your ears flop down as she leans in, her snout basically touching yours. The way she stares at you seems to demand your attention. Whatever she’s about to say, it must be important. You nearly flinch as she opens her mouth again, pre-empting what she might say next. And what does she say?

“I can be a little ruff.”

Your embarrassment like, kinda deflates a little. You almost feel annoyed that you walked into that one. You look up at Fetch again, hoping it could relate, only to be greeted with a barely controlled snicker.

“But, really.” The sound of her voice turns your attention back to her. “If you wanna give yourself a test drive, we’ve got you covered.”As she speaks, Fetch’s paw returns to your head, and, like… wow.~ Your thoughts swim and spiral anew as you let out a content, short “hwrrff.” You tilt your head towards her, savoring her touch. Those gentle, drawn-out strokes. You detect a new scent wafting up from the two of them, fanned by their tails’ steady wags. You can’t put a finger on what it means until you feel a warmth between your loins, one that only deepens the more you breathe it in. You suppose that this is one of the many, many things that you’ll learn before dawn. The night’s just getting started, after all.

[brynn-lear]

Dear B,

As promised, I'm here to know more about your selfships! >:) but unfortunately, I am not sure anymore with who ya selfship anymore so my first question is,

Who are those who stole your heart? <3 (I only know about Dimitri for sure, hehe <3)

Sincerely, Dresvi

Sorry, I can't help myself with the first image lol. My first instinct when seeing "who are those who stole your heart?" was saying "the crown prince of Faerghus, the one-eyed monster, the feral boar, the savior king, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, oh and there's also the blonde man who talks about wanting to eat the weeds he has my heart-".

But for other self-ships, I guess it's those two people listed above (I can be delusional and think they're Dimitri but in another universe lol). Sorry for my handwriting HAHAHAHAH. This way there's very little chance someone would yoink my lazy scribbles ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

As for platonic, it's definitely Dr. Ratio & Boothill hands-down (◍•ᴗ•◍)!!! They're both such a vibe.

Extra stuff

Syn & Dainsleif:

As much as they would rather die than disclose this information to new friends, they were once lovers before Dainsleif entered the military. It was just unfortunate that one of them had to move out due to their parents' occupation. Whenever they both look back, they always remember how they both made flower-crowns for one another...

In present day, Syn is focused on researching Enkanomiya. She rarely exits but when she does, she's always greeted by an understanding Kokomi and/or Gorou. The Sangonomiyas seem to respect Syn for her several aides in the past, so they make sure she's always comfortable when coming out.

... And her refusal to explore is also the reason why Dain and Syn still haven't reunited throughout the entirety of the Archon Quests.

"Angolay"/Brynn Lear & Gepard Landau:

Brynn is just pseudo-adopted by the Landau family at this point. She's gotten used to the Landaus since they're very similar to her own family.

She's texted when Serval needs help tinkering machines, when Lynx wants an exploration buddy that scavenge with him, and even when their mother wants someone to fetch a few ingredients. Brynn is the unofficial "family dog" and she's none the wiser. She doesn't like being tied down she she keeps declining the Brynn Landau jokes earnestly.

As a Galaxy Ranger, most of her work in Belobog stems from helping the Nameless in making sure that Jarilo-VI maintains its freedom against the IPC's insistence on debt retrieval. She saw it as a planet "being bullied", and lended her aide by acting out as a secret investigator. Plus, Angolay does loathe the IPC'd marketing team for what they did to Boothill's planet. It's fair game. Gepard often asks why Brynn likes staying in Belobog, to which she replies that it's the exact opposite of her home planet. Her small planet is tropical and the heat can be exhausting. So, she wants to keep her little vacation spot. (“That reasoning doesn't make sense to be, but I'll accept it...”)

Brynn is always floored at how Gepard seems to remember things for her. By that, I mean Gepard would randonly segway a "you haven't eaten yet, go have lunch" in the middle of a conversation. And those sorts of comments make people misunderstand the nature of their relationship. For more examples;

"You left your gun at my place last night. Here it is."

"Brynn, my father is eager to give his blessings to reinstate you as an official Landau. Please talk to him soon." (<- also doesn't realize his dad is joking. To be fair, Father Landau is a total military man—)

The miscommunication trope is not happening between the two of them, nope, it's the people outside the conversation lol

[sinnaea]

[Content warning ahead] Ashley/Krauser fic, page one draft

CONTENT WARNING: RAPE/NON-CONSENSUAL

Please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable.

18+ ONLY. Absolutely no minors should read this.

The following does not contain the actual rape but the events leading up to it.

Summary The ritual on Ashley has been completed. However, Krauser has a ritual of his own…

Ashley flopped heavily with a short grunt on a rust stained spring mattress sounding off a wiry squeak. The side of her face dragged across the coarse and filthy fabric and her nose picked up the heavy stench of must and iron as she squirmed to sit up. But the binds around her wrists behind her back proved it difficult and all she could do was roll to her side. She glowered up at the man that just dumped her in the dingy holding cell.

Krauser’s perpetual cutting expression tilted down at the young woman. The once prestigious President’s daughter was nothing but another infected body among the others. The faint black blood veins webbed throughout her skin and retreated underneath her clothes. The soft cotton of her turtleneck and skirt no longer served their purpose of warmth as they were now beat and filthy down to her tattered stockings.

The hulk of the man couldn’t help but scoff at Ashley’s scowl on her docile face.

“You don’t even put up a fight and you think that’s going to scare me?” he said in a monotonous and growly voice.

“You should be,” Ashley threatened firmly. “Leon will be here. He’ll come find me then he’ll come for you.”

Krauser chuckled. “Of course Leon will. He’s always had a weak spot for helpless little damsels like yourself.”

Provoked by his words, Ashley twisted her wrists in frustration causing the rest of her body to wriggle on the bed. Desperate to break free just so she could punch Krauser’s ugly mug and perhaps give him an additional scar on his lip.

“And you’re nothing but a dog!” she scorned through her teeth. “Kneeling to Saddler. Using you to play fetch.”

With the sound of a whoosh, Krauser swiftly unholstered his knife from a shoulder harness and Ashley flinched at the flash of the blade. The ex-militant started pacing a few steps back and forth while keeping his predatory eyes on the prisoner. He effortlessly flipped his knife into the air repeatedly without even a glance.

“Now that’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “Los Illuminados has given me nothing but power. You also have been given that gift.” He flipped his knife into the air once more then pointed the tip right at Ashley’s face. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

Ashley immediately spat on Krauser’s knife with a slight lunge forward. “I’ll never become a monster like you!” she shouted. She wanted to show she wasn’t helpless and she could fight back even in her current circumstance. No matter how little the fight was, she could resist and she wasn’t just a helpless damsel.

But she had made a mistake.

Krauser huffed, wiped his blade clean across his pant leg and holstered it. An aura of heat rose and outlined his colossal stature and the deep cut of his eyes foretold something menacing. The shadow of his build grew and casted over Ashley as he took slow steps toward her. The subtle crunch of the dirt covered floor beneath his heavy boots seemingly echoed in the holding cell. The rise and fall of his muscular chest indicated an increase of his breathing, blood and temper.

“If you won’t accept the gift,” Krauser began, “then I’ll force you to accept it with a ritual of my own.”

Ashley’s body drained to white. What little she had in her stomach churned and morphed into nausea and terror. Her heart stopped for a quick second and her instincts kicked in. She kicked her legs in utter panic and scrambled to back away out of his towering darkness. But Krauser grabbed her arm and forced her flat onto her stomach on the rust stained mattress. Like a wriggling worm beneath the talons of a hawk. She was shaking, trembling and gasping to stop herself from crying. His knee sunk next to her hip on the bed and the springs piercingly squeaked. His lips grazed the back of her ear.

“You will witness pure, unadulterated power.”

She was helpless.

[senjuushi]

a master who rewards hybrid au puppy girls for doing cute puppy things (fetch, walks, toy fighting) even if it's degrading. especially if it's degrading.

Ninety

She has her whole "dog" thing anyway, so puppy behavior is really just her norm. If anything, Ninety is comforted by the treatment. It's nice to know that it's so easy to be good for you, and that you'll reward her so nicely for such simple things. She barely realizes when the things you want her to do are degrading, since being treated like a dog is what she's used to anyway. Those things aren't shameful at all, especially when they make you happy.

89.

She starts out terribly embarrassed and a little offended that you expect her to act like that. And yet, after the first couple of times you praise her for the behavior (...and offer petting as a reward), the giddy feeling 89 gets over being good starts to win out over what little dignity she has. It's still humiliating, but if you call her a good girl and coo over how precious she is when she does something dumb like fetch a toy at your command... whatever.

Marks

As you'd expect, Marks has absolutely no shame. Whatever you want her to do, no matter how humiliating it would be to a normal person, she won't hesitate to comply. So long as you're happy with her, she'll gladly do everything from playing fetch with an actual dog toy to performing tricks at your command. The obedience does things to the dog side of her brain that feel right, so she has no complaints about how you're treating her.

Hachikyu

It's way, way too embarrassing to do stuff like that. Even though part of her kind of wants to give in to the weird instincts hovering in the back of her mind, and even though it feels really nice when you praise her, Hachikyu is still hesitant to do the degrading things you're so insistent on. Of course, she also doesn't have the willpower to stand up for herself, so with enough coaxing, she ends up giving in... and looking utterly humiliated all the while.

[plantfeed]

location: west wing, museum, during the ball.

trigger warnings: gore, blood, assault, murder etc.

some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. from what i’ve tasted of desire / i hold with those who favor fire. but if it had to perish twice, i think i know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice / is also great and would suffice.

       cold is preferable to heat. the way alma sees it, you can put a jumper on, lace up your snow boots, light a fire in a conclave, but when the sun beats down on your back you can’t peel off your own skin. alma’s never been deterred by the snow — if anything, she feels at home in it — twelve years spent christmassing in vermont would do that to a person. snow was the unexpected knock of a long-lost cousin at the door, a crumpled cushion on the couch that remembered the curve of their spine. snow was the cold november she learned to ride zeta, the sixth star of the constellation, one hand on the horse’s reigns and the other in the wind as the first flecks of winter landed on her nose. of all the elements, water is alma’s, in its liquid form a symbol of change and renewal — but heed too much of it and you’ll drown. in its purest form, ice, sharp enough to cut a throat, cold enough to freeze a man to death. more often than not, she’s the latter. 

       her pervading coldness is less pronounced tonight, the folly of a ball enough to lift her spirits, etch a smile across her perpetually scowling lips, and — in a moment of madness, pure and instinctive — enough to raise her skirt enough for monty to trail their fingers up her thigh, the announcement of a building-wide lockdown breaking them from their stupor. there’s something sexy about the idea of being locked in, no escape, guards on every door. it forces you to rethink, to examine, to play house with the cards that have been dealt to you and send unwise texts for the sheer thrill of it, like if you care to finish what we started, meet me in the rothschilds room in five. little does she know she’ll never make it to the rothschild room, or get to finish the years old game that monty and alma play, or that this particular foray towards a sexcapade in the dark we’ll be her last. that she’ll never get her keira knightley in atonement fucked-against-a-bookshelf moment ticked off the bucket list, or at least not in this life.

       she’s already broken free of the throng of bodies gathered in the great hall when the lights begin to flicker and pulse like a lorde song, making her way down the west wing, skirts trailing behind her. whenever she’s in grand buildings like this one, alma imagines herself in a crinoline, hoiked within an inch of her life and laced up to the nines in whale boned corsets, how she’d tell the servants to fetch her the millais painting from the east wing, then bring it back, then fetch another, how she’d set her family little treasure hunts around the grounds to amuse their rich and listless hours. she could saltburn this place, if she wanted. she could gaslight the shit out of oliver quick, and he’d probably thank her for it. 

       the lights splutter out like a dying dog, harsh and visceral, and with the sudden sense that childhood is over, although she’d mourned it long before she entered adulthood. perhaps they go out all at once, or maybe it’s the slow pop of each bulb before her one-by-one snapping out in turn, the walls closing in around her, until the only one left is the one above her head, her final spotlight. she doesn’t have a candle to light the way, so the flashlight on her phone has to suffice. it’s a little less girl-in-a-period-drama and a little more final-girl-in-a-badly-reveiwed-a24-horror-movie, though she refuses to let her breath catch. fear’s a mind killer. fear is the enemy of a finely tuned performance. fear will kill you faster than the killing thing, if you let it, a virus in itself. she’s never let herself feel fear before without good reason. what’s so scary about a shortage of light?

       a text chimes on her phone, and her eyes struggle to adjust in the lowlight. monty’s waiting. she starts typing a response that she’s on her way, but doesn’t finish sending it, three bubbling dots that never resolve themselves, and then from somewhere in the dark, a pitchy giggle. she’s read every gillian flynn book. she devours murder mysteries. she’s seen the box set of that british tv show set in oxford, morse, and the sleepy small town midsomer murders. there were periods of her childhood where she spoke exclusively in a british accent and claimed that she could see ghosts. this doesn’t feel like one of those times. the laugh feels otherworldly and threatening in a way that cuts her to the core. 

       the rothschild room isn’t far from here, where monty’s waiting to unzip her dress, to kiss her neck, to tell her they’ve thought about it in the rehearsal room while the two of them perform a pas de deux. she should just fucking turn around and go and find monty. but the nancy drew instinct in her begs otherwise, a dull throb that’ll haunt her if she doesn’t find the source of the sound.

       so she follows it, a chorus of screams of ‘no! run!’ from the popcorn-munching audience she pictures in her mind, a projector wheel whirling on. or perhaps they’re bargaining for her death, taking bets on whether she’ll go quietly, what she looks like when she screams, if she’ll pull a knife from the gusset on her thigh and turn it around at the eleventh hour.

       “i’m not scared of you,” alma shouts into the dark, half-impressed by the strength of her own voice. it doesn’t hitch, doesn’t warble, firmer than she feels, though she grits her teeth, balls her fists, and stalks on towards the sound. that giggle again, only this time it’s different, behind her. she whisks around, plastic ballerina in a jewellery box, and feels the breath pulled from her, the throbbing pulse of something sharp in her back. if she had to place it, she’d say between the eleventh and twelfth vertebrae, although the shock of it sends an electric pang all up her spine. 

       it’s like a heat she never imagined, almost a burn. when “jesus christ” splits from her lips, she’s not sure if it’s a curse or a prayer, gathering her skirt (that stupid fucking dress, fuck gwen stefani) as she begins to run. alma clamours through the dark, thankful for the ballet flats she’d chosen in favour of heels, breath hot in her chest as the pain pulses in her ribs, like a belt being tugged around her heart. who the fuck would want to kill her? a knife in the back is perhaps ironic, considering the back catalogue of people she’s fucked over on her way to the proverbial top. there was the girl she’d tripped in their audition for juliard; the actress who developed a mysterious bout of food poisoning on opening night of antigone; the seminar partner who’s research paper had mysteriously disappeared after they left their library computer unlocked; the numerous farmhands whom she’s taunted over the years. perhaps a better question is not ‘who’d want to kill alma putnam’ but rather ‘who the fuck wouldn’t?

       something catches on her foot, and her phone skitters across the floor to a chorus of curses, spilling light across the walls, her hands clutching in the dark. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” she could be getting railed right now. she could be downstairs, dancing with masked strangers in the dark. instead, she’s engaging in a comical scooby doo chase scene, only her killer won’t be caught by a gaggle of meddling kids, and she can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel any more. it dawns on her that she’ll never make it rothschild room. she’ll never make it out of this museum. it's a theatrical way to go.

       when the second blow strikes — a clean blow to the chest — it throbs in her ribs, in her lungs, a spluttering in her breath, the taste of blood in her mouth. death shouldn’t come to her like this  alone in the west wing of an old museum while a ball beats on below. if she tunes out the dull throb of her heartbeat she can hear the pulse of robyn’s dancing on my own the floor below, the rounds of shots exchanged in the dark, mobile flashlights held like lighters at an open air concert. death should come to her as an old woman on a porch swing as she edits the final chapter of her memoirs. death should come to her in the theatre, struck down beneath a spotlight, a spectacle that haunts and amazes in equal measure. she should die before a crowd. instead, she’s completely alone, her breath growing quicker as the dual wounds that punctuate her back and chest grow colder. she knows from her anatomy textbooks that this is the part when she should start to panic, but that panicking will only make her die quicker. coldness pulses in the tips of her fingers. she starts to feel like a walking corpse. there’s no wiki how article on what to do when you feel yourself slipping out of the world.

       consciousness evades her. she swills in and out of it like a dancing moth around a candle, sometimes aware of the blood on her dress, or awake enough to let out a blood-curdling scream. every sound she makes is another claw reaching into her chest, compressing her lungs. in the end, when she cries out for mother, she can’t tell if she’s crying out for the woman who raised her, or for mercy from the mother they build statues of in churches.

       suffering feels religious if you do it right, and when she's hoisted up it feels almost like a crucifixion, the ropes around her torso no longer imagined but visceral. she always imagined that one day she’d get to fly in a show — as graceful in a harness as she is on her feet. well perhaps this is her final show, and to their credit, they’ve made a spectacle of it. it might be her best performance yet. she’d make a perverse joke about the ropes wrapped around her wrists if her lips weren’t too cold to speak. is this really how she goes out? not with a bang, but with a whimper, trying to come up with a kinky joke that’ll never reach its punchline. 

       “i hope…” she starts, and the words don’t seem to come from her mouth but from the mouth of a haggard witch twice her age, like an advert from an anti-smoking campaign. “they fucking… catch you… you cunt.” fitting that the last word she ever says would be ‘cunt’ when most of her life she’s been one. she doesn’t see their face, doesn’t see anything at all, the dark closing around her in more ways than one. above her, the ropes are creaking, body swinging like a witch. the last thing she feels before she slips from the world is a sharp spike impaling her through the heart.

[thebestpartofwakingup]

You know I give my family some crap for how badly behaved all of our dogs have been but it’s really just the last two who are exceptionally badly behaved

Border collie who completely normal and well behaved. Sometimes barked at people passing the house.

Our greyhound was grumpy and didn’t like people who weren’t my mom, but he’d just half-growl (more of a frustrated moan) and get up and go to the corner or another room. Like an anti social old man.

Lab-spaniel who killed a bird one time when she was young but liked people and got on well with them and the other dogs. Followed bad example of next dog as pack-leader. Ripped up toys as a puppy

(BAD) Lab with an awful bark who liked to carry things around to be chased (socks, toys, etc.). Very frustrating. Barked a lot and had a horrible bark. Grumpy and didn’t really like being cuddled or anything. Would not play fetch. Had an insane hunting-instinct and killed anything that got into the yard except the snapping turtle that scared her by not moving and then barely moving. Would try to chew shiny ball Christmas ornaments and then drop them and bolt to the other side of the room when they “bit” her. Would slowly investigate them, tapping them with her foot and running away to see if they’d bite her again. Could bunnyhop a 3.5 foot fence and killed the neighbor’s chickens once. Taught the spaniel how to jump the fence as well. Was basically fine once we got the invisible fence. Rabbits eventually returned to the yard. Liked to drop bones on hardwood floors and down the stairs. Peed incessantly in the baby pool.

Lab with less ear piercing bark but who barks at everything constantly. No hunting instinct at all. Once accidentally tortured a toad she found by following it around the yard and pawing at it to watch it hop. Only dog to defeat the spray bottle method because she just loves water that much. Also defeated the invisible fence because she has the pain tolerance of a Roman god and loves running across the street to lay down and say hello to everyone she sees. Obviously it’s understandable to be nervous or scared of a dog you see running at you but I swear to god I can’t believe how good she is with strangers she isn’t running AT them to like jump or bark she gets like right up next to them and just drops to the ground to show how friendly she is and that she wants belly rubs. I’ve chased after her and watched the confusion in people’s faces as they prepare/brace for this dog to at least bark at or jump on them but she’s weirdly respectful of personal space. Like she’s doing a bit. Wags constantly and knocks things over as a result. Has trained my dad to give her fresh meat in the morning by barking. Would recognize an intruder as a friend. LOVES walks.

(EVIL) lab-setter mix who used to bait people into petting her so she could bite them. Got her as a puppy and she would sit in my lap and lick my face and then BITE by nose hard. Terrified of ear drops. Likes to chase squirrels but no interest in catching them. Hoards toys during fetch hiding them in a bush. Will interrupt other dogs playing fetch to steal and hide the toys in the same bush. Attacks other dogs unprovoked. Stole soup out of my bowl!!!!! Will walk into a room and sit with person A to be pet while making unbreaking eye contact with person B so they know she’s ignoring them. Has to be muzzled. Weirdly good with kids and puppies. Jumps on tables and counters dead-quietly to eat food. Will learn who does and doesn’t scold her for what rules and will break whatever rules she believes she will get away with.

(NOT GOOD) Aussie-Pyrenees (looks NOTHING like a Pyrenees and runs small for an Aussie) LOVES to be cuddled. Has TERRIBLE memory growled at me the first dozen times I visited or so before remembering that we lived together for a few months and that she’s seen me many many times. Easily confused and overwhelmed by other dogs. Growls at people and then runs away and hides under a table. Sometimes nips at ankles. Sometimes backs up the setter in fights against the lab. Kills butterflies. Took forever to house break. HATES walks. HATES the car. HATES the leash. Will bite and pee on it. Jumps. One time ripped the squeaker out of a toy with surgical precision.

[doctors-star]

before the beginning

“Are you quite sure?” he says, trying not to look around at the house in case his glances should look doubtful. Unfortunately, he simply is somewhat doubtful of the wisdom of this idea; happy as he is for Peter to be surrounded by other people for the uncertain length of time he will be out in Herefordshire, the May household is already a large one and the May house is not. Peter is already looking slightly daunted by the noise and debris left by various young women between the ages of fifteen and twenty-two, and he’s barely made it past the front door. For good reason does Lesley usually visit them at the Folly, rather than the other way around. And then, of course, there is Molly at home with the dog, probably too well-trained to be cursing their names, but entirely possibly slightly distraught at being left alone. In truth, he is a little distressed at leaving her. It has, after all, been some time since he last did.

“Oh, yes,” Lesley’s mother says cheerfully, weaving in amongst the chaos with expert familiarity to deposit Peter’s bags on the stairs, ready to take the next person to come downstairs out at the ankles. “I’d hate to think of him rattling around in that big place on his own, and he’s a good lad. It’ll be lovely to have him over.”

“We’ll look after him,” Lesley’s dad says - a little wryly, like he too can see the madness that has been made of his home - and claps Peter on the shoulder in a display of manly solidarity. Peter manages a smile, but little enthusiasm; Lesley just rolls her eyes.

“Well, I do appreciate it,” Nightingale says, tucking his amusement into the corner of his mouth where only Peter and Lesley can see it. Peter narrows his eyes, aware he is being laughed at, but his mouth compresses against a grin all the same. “It shouldn’t be for very long, anyway.”

“I should hope not!” Lesley’s mother says, catching Lesley’s head in passing and crushing her close to press a kiss to her head. Lesley squirms uselessly but ultimately must submit to this display of parental affection; Peter looks at him suspiciously, as though to ward off any similar instincts in him. They are neither of them very tactile, even less so now as Peter gets older, but sometimes he does envy Mrs May for her easy affection. “You fetch those girls home, and you’ll be back before we know you’re gone. Peter, I’m putting you in Tanya’s room; Lesley, Tanya’s in with you. I’ll go and make up the beds.”

“Mum!” Lesley objects sharply, unfolding from her slouch against the wall to stare after her retreating mother at this abject betrayal; her father, wisely, beats a hasty retreat towards the living room, leaving them all in the hallway to say goodbye. Lesley huffs enormously. “I don’t know why everyone’s worried about you,” she says to Peter mutinously. “You get your own room.”

Peter holds up his hands defensively. “It’s not my fault. You’re not pinning Tanya’s inevitable demise on me.”

Lesley folds her arms and looks up at Nightingale. “I refuse to be held responsible either,” he says quickly.

“Then don’t be long,” she replies darkly, which is probably the closest he’s going to get to affection from Lesley these days - she’s going through a rather grumpy phase at present.

“As you like,” he says mildly. “Right - the sooner I go, the sooner I’ll get back. Be good,” he tells Peter, more from some kind of parental instinct than any expectation otherwise; Peter rolls his eyes. “Call me if you need anything; I really shouldn’t be long. Don’t let Lesley kill her sisters.”

“You never let me do anything,” Lesley says, trying to hide a grin.

“I know. Look after yourselves.” And then there’s really nothing more to say, except goodbye.

“Good luck,” Peter offers. “You - look after yourself too. See you in a bit, then.”

And then Nightingale reaches out to squeeze his shoulder bracingly, but doesn’t quite make it. Peter ducks in underneath his arm, snakes one arm around his waist, and leans into his side in a sort of half-hug, half-tackle. Nightingale manages to coordinate his arm into wrapping around Peter’s shoulders quickly enough for a brief squeeze before the boy pulls away, resolutely refusing to make eye contact.

“Right. Bye then,” Peter says, still looking anywhere but at Nightingale.

Lesley tips her chin at him in a sort of salute, grinning at Peter’s behaviour.

“Bye, then,” he says, and smiles all the way to the M40.

[canisitsnotlupus]

i have done SO much as a dog person and trainer. i used to be the person who would try every single sport, do every single thing i could, and it was great! i had the perfect dogs for it (barring daedra's aggression, he was an incredibly forgiving novice dog, and vivec was just perfect) i've literally done so much and im really proud of my experiences. but there are two things that are the epitome of my decades-long dog training career and dog ownership: 1) training a recall that is full of joy with a dog that runs towards me in response and is excited to be called back, no matter what she was doing (fork. and if you know me, recalls are literally one of my hardest things to train. i have a lot of fear around letting my dogs off leash and them getting lost/injured/hurt/something) 2) having dogs that suddenly have their instinct just "turn on" and years of breeding and focus is apparent in a single moment (all of them) i've been terrified fork was just a Broken retriever and like, i am in SO many retriever groups that are "FORCE FETCH BY 8 MONTHS!!!" so while i do consider myself knowledgeable and stuff, there was still this doubt 'maybe i'm wrong and letting my dog go at her own pace has ruined her and she'll never retrieve' that clearly was misplaced. because she does retrieve. and she does it with joy and delight and is SO funny and cute with it and SO into it and the border collies have always been very instinctual and herdy, but with daedra when i took him to lessons.. i cried. seeing him suddenly "get it" and just boom, really become a border collie just hit me. and then i got galli (my cow bred dog) and at 4 mos he was just.. a beast. it was amazing watching him as a baby dog just manage sheep with confidence and instinct. anyway, i love my dogs, and having them do things with joy is one of the happiest moments of my being as a dog trainer and owner.

[of-elitiism]

a starter for @unladielike​

Being acutely aware of surroundings is second nature to Achim, sometimes almost to the point that he’s distracted for normal conversations because something ten meters away is buzzing or moving and it might be worth taking note of it. He probably inwardly learned that from his dad, the old man was so acutely aware it was almost to the point of paranoia. He didn’t really get that as a kid, but now that he’s older, yeah, it does make a whole lotta sense. There’s a difference between being paranoid everyone’s out to get you and just noticing stuff happening around you. Stuff like the coins jingling in that guy’s pocket, or the flapping of pigeon wings taking off when people pass through them, or even that notebook dropped by that girl passing by---

Wait. She dropped something. Aaaaand it doesn’t seem like she noticed? Call it a guard dog instinct but he’d absolutely bolted from his spot with one aim in mind, fetch the notebook and give it back [ ugh, this actually is guard dog behavior, hopefully no one who actually knows him sees this ].

“HEY! Ey, yo, girl...! Short black hair with the hoodie!” he’s shouting to announce his presence as he’s sprinting towards her, notebook readily available in his grasp. He’s not going to grab her, because that’d be creepy and could easily spook someone like that. So instead, he’s coming to an abrupt halt, the soles of his boots sliding across the concrete as the wolf got to her side, about an arm’s length away. 

“Ya dropped this at the intersection. And not that it’s any of my business, but it looks kinda important---” it’s all the wear and tear around the edges that gives the impression this is something she’s probably using daily. Either way, as he gave the lost item back, Achim inwardly lowered down a bit to have a curious glance at her and his big, round yellow eyes blinked a few times as he connected some dots in his mind. 

“...Wait, i know you--- Yer the girl from the campus cafe, aren’t ya? We talked about the menu and ya recommended me the BLT...!” there’s a slight grin on his face when he recognized her from that brief interaction. “...It’s Violet, right?”

[justanisabelakinnie]

Ooh! I have one!

Camilo shapeshifts into one of those big dogs like an Akita or husky so Emi can get fluff and cuddles

oh my god oh my god oh my GOD!

This is adorable!!!

Like imagine Emiliana complains to her boyfriend that her sisters don’t snuggle her a lot and so he’s like “you can snuggle with me” and she’s like yeah ahaha I guess so.

Then one day she hears a knock on the door and opens it and the cutest little big dog is there just wagging its tail and she knows instinctively from its kind green eyes who this is but she can’t tell anybody ofc because nobody knows that Camilo can turn into animals and saying “this dog is my boyfriend” would only get disgusted stares.

So she just plays with him the way she would any other dog, has him fetch a frisbee, feeds him kibble, rides him throughout the Encanto, etc. and then when she wants to stroke him he does and then she yawns and falls asleep and he just lies on his side to be used as a pillow.

Only Mirabel and Dolores know about this, which means Isabela knows about this, and she can’t stop laughing. But no one else does ofc.

Now whenever they’re alone and Emiliana falls asleep Camilo just turns into a dog and lets her rest her head on and cuddle with him.

And it makes both of them happy lol.

As for Emiliana’s cat Inocente, I think he would be scared of dog!Camilo at first but he assures him that he won’t bite and they get along quite well, and now Emiliana has two “pets”. So cute!!!

[comfortablyselfloathing]

a little something i wrote at 3 am

for context, noel is my oc who is part of the strawhats. she was part of the group that went to zou first but chased after sanji on her own when bege took him. i could provide more details about her but i really wanted to post this somewhere first. she's 310 cm, just a few cms taller than jinbei. at this part of the story, she's been katakuri's prisoner for three days. the reason why she's not in jail is cause she had earned big mom's interest AND once did a jail break that caused chaos in komugi island. "why do u cover ur mouth when others are around." he stays silent, he wasnt just gonna show vulnerability to a stranger

"but youre fine showing it to me"

that, however, he can answer. "you dont seem to mind."

"fair enough" she says, mouth full of cookies before pausing to wash it down with tea. "but i don't see why anyone should."

if this was any day before this, he wouldn't even have thoughts of entertaining her questions but it's been three days since they've met. Whether he liked it or not, katakuri had already unconsciously figured out that she wasn't the villain he had initially judged her to be.

whether he trusted her or not, he wasn't sure but upon a little bit of pondering, he concluded that opening up to a stranger wouldn't be that bad. Especially when said stranger was an enemy who had no credibility for anyone in his community to believe in. "it's unusual. nobody around except for fishmen have a mouth like mine. not even my brothers."

"well yeah i have seen sharp teeth before but not mouth as wide as yours." she props herself on her elbows to lean forward as if trying to take a closer look. "and to think only you have it among fraternal triplets. it must be a rare phenotype."

instinctively, he scoots away from her gaze and he would've taken offense, if not for the sheer lack of malice in her voice. it was pure curiosity-- whether it be the sparkle in her eyes or the slight smile on her lips, he couldn't look away. as much as she was observing him, he couldn't help but observe her too.

"mind if i take a closer look?" he saw the question coming and yet surprise and dread still filled him as her words registered in his brain. "i wanna sketch it for future reference."

he must've made a face because her curiosity was quick to shift into concern.

"oh" she sheepishly smiles, "my bad, i guess i'm being too much.

and just after he had just resolved himself to open up to her— he seriously needs to have more self control. he was slacking off a lot today.

after closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he steeled himself enough for another shot.

"It's fine." He settles himself supine on the couch, head elevated by the armrest. "Go ahead."

"no, no, you dont have to—"

"this'll be the only chance I'll give you"

as if a dog who had been told to fetch the treat, she hurriedly scurries to kneel by his side. She was hovering over his face, too close for his comfort but he'd rather get it over with than complain.

"can i touch you?" her voice was mindfully more quiet than the usual, making his head buzz unusually in response.

"yes" he manages to answer in an almost incomprehensible grumble. at this point, he was having a difficult time keeping a linear trail of thought. it was impossible to when she was even worse up close. her eyes, her nose, her lips. just when he thought he had done his best to keep his feelings at bay, he found himself in a struggle to keep himself still under her extremely close gaze./

despite his overwhelming crisis, she unknowingly and professionally examines his mouth. making sure to check every nook and cranny, her hands naively settle on his jaw and cheeks, moving them to her own desire.

"your incisors are longer than the rest, does that hinder you in any way?" she looked up at him and realized that her question had gone unheard.

noel didn't know why but the moment her eyes met his dazed gaze, she forgot where she was. noel was a virgin but she wasn't an idiot. she's seen that look before. in movies, in bars, in parties. she's seen people give that look to anyone but her. as they should. she wasn't someone worthy of receiving such feelings and for a long time, she knew she wasn't gonna receive any of that at all.

want? love? lust? foreign yet familiar, the feeling unsettled her mind yet stirred her poorly fettered desires to burn like never before. her heart swelled in anticipation and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered in anxiety.

was she even right? isn't she just jumping into conclusions?

as if responding to her intensifying dilemma, her hand unconsciously caresses the line of his jaw causing his eyes flinch and narrow. he was always so nonchalant and yet, at this very moment— even as he wore his calm facade, she found her answer in his steely gaze.

"can i kiss you?" she finally breathes out.

[cammys-imagines24]

• Taking Care of Injured Sevika •

It's like pulling teeth.

Sevika is kind of an asshole whenever she's wounded, to be honest.

Like, you're not just fighting her stubbornness here, you're also battling her ego, too.

She will downplay any injury she obtains even if it's her literal metal prosthetic torn straight off.

Even if said prosthetic is just a hunk of steel scrap on the ground now and her stub is oozing pink Shimmer everywhere.

Sevika's first instinct will be to practically throw you off of her when you rush to her aid.

She will be gruff, crude and absolutely boorish.

She will tell you that she is fine and to stop being so damn dramatic.

She will bark at you to fetch her a strong drink while she collapses down onto your shared apartments couch and lights up a cigarette.

To say Sevika is an unruly patient is an egregious understatement.

Plus, the woman is built like a brick wall so it's not like you can force her to do anything she doesn't want to do, even if it's for her own benefit.

At times it seems like she'd much rather bleed out and die than let you tend to her.

The only time Sevika even half listens to you is through bribery.

If you offer something she wants than maybe, maybe she will spend the day in bed resting or actually let you change her bandages or take the medicine you prescribe her.

There are only two sure fire ways to motivate her into doing what you say.

You either tell her that you will give her a nice, rare vintage bottle of alcohol or that you'll let her do anything she wants to you in the bedroom once she recovers.

Summed up nicely, Sevika's passions are fighting, which is why she's injured in the first place, a nice bottle of aged whiskey or scotch and you naked in bed.

It's not like you mind spending money on a nice vintage for your girlfriend and you mind even less being completely at the sexy, buff lady's mercy but still...

The fact that you have to resort to buying her off in some way just to get her to heal properly is ridiculous.

Whenever you try to disinfect a flesh wound she hisses from the sting and makes it seem like a personal attack to her.

The gray eyed glare she fixes you is murderous to say the least and it's a good thing she can't kill with just a look, otherwise you'd be dead.

And, don't even get me started on how grumpy Sevika is in the days that follow.

When she has visible bandages wrapped around her like a mummy, when her damaged metal prosthetic is in a sling, waiting for a mechanic to come and fix it. (It being too wrecked for her to make her own repairs)

You've theorized that Sevika's aversion to being seen injured has to do with her ego as well and that she doesn't want others, especially Silco and his underlings to see her as "weak".

She has a reputation to maintain after all as being the scariest lady in the Undercity.

So when she does get hurt she feels like her whole position may be threatened and the bruise to her self esteem is way worse than whatever bodily injury she did receive.

Never mind the fact that 9 out of 10 times it's her opponent who she fought that has to spend months in the hospital recovering from the damage she caused.

You try to be gentle and understanding of her pride since you know how challenging it can be maintaining her "not to be messed with", dangerous infamy.

The Undercity is a dog eat dog world after all, especially when working for Silco.

You have to conjure up the patience of a saint whenever she's injured.

You have to be on your best behavior because these are sensitive times and she tends to snap and growl.

You will have to stand your ground as well despite being a mere mouse up against a lion.

But seriously, "If she doesn't allow for the cut to be properly cleaned it will get infected!"

Rationally you know that your girlfriend would never hurt you but it is no trifling matter having to assert yourself against the beautiful giant.

When Sevika is in pain and injured her temperance becomes akin to a bear just awoken from hibernation.

Once you knocked a carafe of booze right out of her hand when she had been adamantly refusing to let you attend to her for going on hours.

Her blood was everywhere around your shared apartment and she needed to be properly cleaned.

As the alcohol splashed across the whole room and shattered glass made it's own mosaic onto the floor the look the enforcer of Zaun had given you made you freeze like a deer in headlights.

Though despite her bone chilling glare it was quickly replaced with a smug, almost proud smirk.

That night only resulted in her yanking you towards her by the flesh of your hips and having her way with you.

It is very challenging to get Sevika to focus on the task at hand, which is tending to the wounds and allowing for them to heal.

She just wants to smoke, drink and have you beneath her.

Though despite her thorny, brutish behavior when hurt she does deep down feel gratitude towards you.

And, it's certainly no turn off for her having you as her nurse.

Sevika just isn't used to someone caring for her and actually wanting to take care of her, okay.

The reason she's such a bitch to you is because you're making her feel all soft and warm inside and she hates it.

Like, no, stop fussing over her and making her feel loved.

But, also don't stop and she secretly appreciates you so much.

Sevika knows she is difficult and chances are she will always be difficult but subtly she does show you how much she loves you.

She is not one to do anything she doesn't want to do, so if she actually hated you taking care of her, you'd be thrown straight through a window.

And, though she argues against your ministrations to the enth degree it's just a small way of maintaining her pride.

In truth Sevika knows what sorry state she'd be in without you to care for her.

And, even more does she know how broken her heart would be if she didn't have your love.

[beckface]

WORDGIRL ANIMAL AU

Okay okay this took forever but it was so much fun AHHHH!

More about this au-

First things first Capt. Huggyface is NOT an ape in this au! He’s a human (or human passing alien) lmao. He left his home planet of Lexicon to scout out new territories for the government, but unbeknownst to him a tiny kitten snuck on to his spaceship!

Like in the show he crashlanded on earth, except this time THIS earth is populated solely by intelligent animal life. He can understand them, but they can not understand him, but soon he realizes that the kitten that accidentally came with him CAN speak to him and speak for him. It’s basically the same as in the show, except with animal shenanigans and Huggy being like way taller the Becky and also she’s legit just a cat

He sets up shop in the woods, but the Botsfords find them and adopt Becky. Huggy doesn’t go with them in this au though because he feels weird being under the care of a dog and kangaroo, and he’s a grown man. Through Becky, he becomes friends with them though and hangs out with them and Becky often. He kinda just, is the only person on earth and every animal finds him facinating at first. 

Some other minor changes:

- Squeaky was Boxlietner’s evil lab assistant. He was jealous of Steven’s genius so he tricked him into trying to create a mind reading device, that Squeaky rigged so that Boxlietner’s brain would merge onto his. It went wrong, and Squeaky became attached to the doctor.

-General Smoochington is Victoria’s Butler

-Lil Mittens is Butcher’s adopted baby

-Any pets shown in the show are generally now roomates, friends, or family members

-When it comes to interspecies couples it works like in Bojack Horseman where the kids are one species or the other, it’s best not to think about it too hard

-They do have animal instincts when I want them too otherwise don’t worry about it

-Yes they still eat meat but it’s strictly seafood, this goes for the Butcher’s whole thing too, learnerer is an alien and hyperintelligent

Everything else is pretty much the same! This is more of an excuse for me to draw animals because I like drawing them more then people KDJDS Also warning I will actively be ignoring correct heights in the future

I will happily explain any of the animal choices whifwdkjs thanks to everyone who helped me with them too

Mini things I’m adding on

-Johnson is a cheetah because he’s a nervous child and also they put Puppies and Cheetah Kittens together to comfort each other in captivity, TELL ME THAT ISN’T TJHONSON

-Okay everyone around me said Miss Question is an Owl and i’m PRETTY sure it’s for the sole reason because owls say “who”. It also works because she can fly though and got her powers at night

-Dtb sometimes gets carried away with cackling evilly and starts howling. Becky, living with two dogs, knows to just wait it out. He also wags his tail but since it’s a mouse tail it looks really silly

-Both Glen and Tobey say they’re wolves and DTB is getting real sick of the appropriation

-Nocan’s tusks are disturbingly powerful

-Whammer whams by rearing up and hitting his hooves on the ground

-Butcher can roar out meat aswell as shoot through his paws

-Dtb once threatened to eat Steve McClean because of how fed up he got. Becky hissed at the mousebrain to get him to stop and “play fair”

-Violet is sooo physically awkward, being a fawn

-Scoops climbs on his friends a lot to take pictures and get a better view

*Becky staring at Scoops, in love*

Scoops, slightly worried she’s about to hunt him: 0_0

-Tobey tries to bury himself in a hole and does the fox thing where they dive face first whenever his mom comes to fetch him

-Arg winds himself up in a knot like all the time

-The narrator is also an animal but he changes what animal he says he is every episode

-The scene where mr big is climbing his statue and is like “Haha you can’t get me now wordgirl!” because he forgot she can fly happens all the time, because he flies up and forgets that she has superpowers. She can not only fly without wings but has superspeed, so like, what was your plan there Big guy

all together image for a bit better size reference-

SOME CHARACTERS NOT PICTURED:

-Maria is still an energy monster! Considering having her just be on all fours though

-Rose is a german shepard

-Reginald is a peacock

-Chazz is a llama

-The mayor is a beaver MAYBE

-Exposition guy is a ostrich

-Grocery store guy is a lemur

————

addendum