#fritz barks

[rabidmuttz]

someone take me on a walk someone take me on a walk someone take me on a walk someone take me on a walk SOMEONE TAKE ME ON A WALK SOMEONE TAKE ME ON A WALK SOMEONE TAKE ME ON A WA

[ban--tam]

i asked my friends which characters i should draw this meme with and they said bittenfeld so. here he is (and muller i guess)

[fnafverse-quotes]

Jeremy: *following Ennard after the separation* I- I think we found him, Mike!

Michael: Okay, what’s happening?

Phone Dude: Uhhh? Looks like some street dog is barking at him.

Michael: Okay? And what’s he doing?

Fritz: He… he’s barking back.

[watatsumiis]

wow, uh, thanks genshin impact, very cool :)

[jackals-ships]

update post taking a break No idea how i fucked up but i think i finagled it enough to work

very much "you used the wrong formula but got. the right answer??" energy HF

[charliemwrites]

Bark, bark, snort, grrr

(The ex idea comes from @st-el-la-luna, absolutely brilliant darling ❤️)

Content: Voyeurism, Mild Injury, Possessive/Protective Behavior

Johnny, for all his quirks and… weirdly human tendencies, is an incredibly good sport. Particularly about letting you put him in Santa hats and wreaths, ugly sweaters and snow socks. He poses for every picture so dutifully, looks so serious and annoyed up until you plant smooches on his head or cheek and that silly lupine grin comes out.

He’s been your perfect little heater ever since the heater started to go on the fritz. It keeps shutting off or turning itself lower than it’s meant to be, leaving you shivering before you realize something is amiss. It’s not so broken that you’re willing to interrupt your solitude to have someone come fix it. But you’re grateful for a big fluffy body laying on your feet or snuggling under the blankets with you.

As the winter sets in, you tromp out with him in the snow a lot. Often use his sturdy shoulders and better footing as a crutch to navigate without slipping. He always gets fussy when you do, dancing in his feet and snuffling at your coat, urging you up.

One morning you wake up after a fresh snow, expecting that you’ll have to clear the driveway and porch - only to find it freshly shoveled and salted. It would spook you, except you’re sure Johnny would have woken you up barking his head off if it was anything to worry about.

Your mother calls about holiday plans in mid-November. You hedge around any commitments, hand buried in Johnny’s fur, saying that you don’t want to leave your precious pup at home.

The combined efforts of both your parents, your sister, and a cousin you actually like makes you cave eventually though. They promise it’ll just be family, that you can even bring Johnny. You grimace at that - debate getting him some meds from the vet…. But he’s been doing better on walks in town.

The weird assurance that it’ll “just be family” should have been a red flag.

When you arrive at your parents’ place, several gift bags and Johnny (with a bow tie on his collar) in tow, you find your ex there. On the couch. Next to your least-favorite cousin and your sister.

“What’s he doing here?” you ask sharply.

“Well, you two were engaged—”

Johnny’s ears shoot straight up as you tense.

“Yeah, and then he cheated.”

“People make mistakes. If you would just hear him out.”

“I don’t care what he has to say. And I don’t care what you have to say either.”

You drop the bags in a heap and click your tongue for Johnny. He falls in with you instantly, leaning up against your side. You get all the way to your car before you hear your ex’s voice calling your name.

You try to hurry, but there’s ice and the last thing your dignity can take is slipping right now. Luckily, you have the perfect deterrent before you ex can even get within arm���s reach.

Johnny snarls, so deep and loud you feel it in your own chest.

“Jesus!” your ex cries, coming up short. “Where did you get that thing?!”

“Johnny picked me. More than I can say for you.”

“Don’t be like that, I’m picking you now.”

“Oh, did your girl best friend lose all her daddy’s money?”

His cheeks light up neon. Huh. Got it in one.

Then he dares another step and Johnny lunges. You just get a hold of his harness but it’s enough ward your ex off a bit more.

“He’s very loyal,” you add. “Also more than I can say for you.”

“Baby, just listen—”

“An upgrade all around, I think.”

You round your car, climb into the driver’s seat with Johnny standing guard, then let him clamber over you into the passenger’s seat. At the front door, most of your family is gathered and staring. You flip off your ex one last time before peeling out of there.

The tears come after you’ve gotten back home. Johnny licks your face until you stop crying, then leads you inside. The two of you curl up on the couch together, his face buried in your stomach. You fall asleep there and dream of a man’s voice whispering love and comfort in your ear.

—

A week later, your ex shows up.

You’re out in the yard with Johnny, watching him zoom through the snow and laughing as he speeds by. Your ex must hear you because he comes round the side of the house.

And Johnny. Goes. Ballistic.

Literally, he hits your ex like a missile, taking him into the snow and snarling like something from hell. He’s got his teeth in your ex’s designer coat, ripping it to shreds. It’s frightening; you’ve never felt safer.

“Johnny!” you call. A growl. You walk closer, kick a bit of snow at both of them. “Johnny, down! Leave it!”

And he does, finally does, though not without taking a good chunk of fabric with him. Your ex, wide-eyed and pale, panting, doesn’t bother to say a word. He scrambles away while Johnny barks after him, all canine and spit.

You hum as he returns to you, fabric in his mouth, tail wagging.

“What a good boy,” you coo, taking the partial sleeve and inspecting it. Louis Vuitton, it looks like. “Very good. My perfect boy.”

You drop his prize into the snow and snort as he wastes no time peeing on it. Well, that’s gonna stay there. Forever.

“C’mon bud, you deserve a treat.”

Johnny follows you happily inside, a new pep in his step.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[shieldofiron]

Derek was still getting used to the whole pack being around. Living together was important to establish themselves as a strong and independent pack but of course it would take some getting used to.

Well, actually… there was only one person he had trouble getting used to. He fell into an easy rhythm with all of them underfoot, even Allison.

But God.

“Oh, sorry,” Stiles would walk right into Derek’s chest in the morning, toothbrush dangling from his lips.

“Sorry!” He would say as he tiptoed into Derek’s study and borrowed/stole a pair of sissors that Derek never did get back.

“Sorry,” he said with a mouth full of food after interrupting Derek’s strategy with another (admittedly slightly better) idea.

And now he was blinking up at Derek with those big bambi eyes. A droplet of water slid down his long pale neck, and-

“Sorry. Waters on the fritz in the east wing. I think Scott, Allison and Kira are… ahem… using up the hot water,” Stiles’ heart skipped a beat and Derek forced his eyes back on Stiles’ face.

“What?” Derek barked.

“L-Laura said to use yours,” Stiles supplied quickly.

He was so… annoying. So hard to live with. Always… around. He was everywhere, dusting everything with his scent, trailing off at the end of his sentences and driving Derek up the wall. So human and annoyingly intelligent. So… pale and pink and flushed and wet.

Derek’s eyes slid down without permission and-

“What’s that?”

“Oh,” Stiles laughed, and the husky sound danced in the molecules between them. “Last Friday the 13th, Lydia and I got free bestie tattoos. They match.”

He angles his hip up, the little stars and swirls on his hip dancing against pale skin dusted with hair.

“Hers is on the back of her neck, but my dad would kill me if he saw so…”

There was that trailing off thing. Derek could only blink at Stiles, watching that pretty pink mouth for another word.

“Well… I better be hittin’ that old dusty trail,” Stiles hitched the towel low on his hips a little and Derek’s eyes ping ponged up and down his lithe body. “Thanks for the shower, partner.”

He patted Derek’s shoulder and headed off, presumably to his own room.

Derek spent a long time standing there in his room, his head filled with snatches of this and that and dark ink on pale skin.

Fuck. He would be really hard to live with now.

[pepi1989]

Starstruck - Ben Shelton

The atmosphere backstage at the US Open was its own kind of chaotic. Between players rushing to their next match, coaches barking advice, and the constant hum of the crowds outside the stadiums, it was a whirlwind of noise and energy. Ben had just finished his warm-up and was headed toward the players’ lounge, his mind focused on his upcoming match. Or at least, it was, until he saw her.

She walked out from one of the practice courts, her tennis bag slung casually over her shoulder. Her hair was pulled back, her face still flushed from whatever grueling training she’d just finished, but she carried herself with a confidence that immediately drew his attention. Ben froze mid-step, his gaze locking on her as she moved through the hallway, completely unaware of the effect she had on him.

His heart rate, which had already been high from practice, seemed to kick into overdrive. He felt like he’d just been hit with a serve straight to the chest. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t just her looks, although she was stunning, it was the way she seemed so effortlessly focused, so in her element. Like she belonged there in a way that made everyone else fade into the background.

She didn’t see him, though. Her eyes were set ahead, completely engrossed in her own world. As she walked past, her shoulder brushed his, and he swore electricity shot through him. His brain scrambled to come up with something, anything, to say, but the words died in his throat. Before he knew it, she was already halfway down the hall, her footsteps light and steady as if she hadn’t just flipped his entire world upside down.

Ben stood there, still staring, until a sharp elbow nudged him in the side.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” Taylor Fritz’s voice snapped him out of his daze, but Ben couldn’t pull his eyes away from where she’d disappeared around the corner.

“Who…who was that?” Ben finally managed to croak out, his voice hoarse, like he’d just run a marathon.

Taylor raised an eyebrow, glancing between Ben and the direction the girl had gone. “You mean her?” he said, a knowing smirk creeping across his face. “That’s Y/N, She’s been killing it in the women's draw. You seriously don’t know her?”

Ben shook his head, still trying to process what had just happened. Y/N. The name alone made his pulse quicken. He repeated it in his head like a mantra. He couldn’t believe he’d never noticed her before, and yet now it felt like he couldn’t stop.

Taylor chuckled, clapping Ben on the shoulder. “Good luck with that, man,” he said, his tone both amused and sympathetic. “She doesn’t pay attention to anyone. Too focused on tennis, from what I hear. She’s, like, all business,never dates, never even gives anyone a second glance. Pretty much married to her career.”

Ben’s heart sank a little, but there was a flicker of determination in his chest. The idea that she didn’t pay attention to anyone just made him more intrigued. Sure, she was focused, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have space for anything, or anyone, else, right?

Still, Taylor’s words echoed in his mind as he headed off to his match. Could he really stand out to someone like her?

Hours later, Ben was exhausted. His match had been a tough one, stretching into five sets, but he’d come out victorious. As he sat in the players’ lounge afterward, towel around his neck, mind drifting, he saw her again.

She was walking into the room after her match, her eyes downcast, focused on the floor as she made her way to grab a water bottle. He watched as she sighed, the kind of tired but satisfied look of someone who’d just left everything out on the court. There was something so grounded about her, despite the pressures of the tournament.

Ben’s heart raced again, but this time, he didn’t let the moment pass. He stood up, tossing his towel onto the chair, and made his way toward her, rehearsing what he would say over and over in his head.

As she turned to leave, he gently called out, “Hey, Y/N?”

She stopped, turning around slowly, her eyes locking with his. For a second, he thought she might just walk away, completely uninterested. But instead, she stayed, blinking at him, her expression a little wary but open.

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice soft, almost shy.

Ben was momentarily thrown off. Taylor had said she didn’t pay attention to people, that she was all business. But now, face-to-face, she seemed almost…nervous.

“I-I saw your match,” Ben stammered, his nerves getting the best of him. “You played really well out there.”

Her cheeks flushed a bit, and she smiled, though she looked away quickly, like she wasn’t used to compliments. “Thanks,” she mumbled, shifting slightly on her feet. “You did too. I, uh, caught a bit of it.”

Ben’s heart soared. She watched? He swallowed his nerves, deciding now was the time. “I know you’re super focused on tennis and all,” he began, scratching the back of his neck, “but I was wondering if maybe, uh, I could get your number? You know…for after the tournament or something. We could hang out, if you’d like.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, Ben was certain she’d turn him down. She looked even shyer now, her gaze dropping to the floor again as she considered his offer. He could feel his pulse in his ears, each second stretching on like forever.

Then, to his astonishment, she nodded, her voice almost a whisper. “Yeah… sure. I’d like that.”

Ben blinked, processing her words. She said yes? He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as she was typing in her number before handing his phone back to him.

“Thanks,” he said, a little breathless, feeling like he’d just won the biggest match of his life. “I’ll text you.”

She smiled again, this time a little more relaxed, a little more genuine, before turning to leave. And as she walked away, Ben couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this tournament was shaping up to be unforgettable in more ways than one.

[ras-favourite-balor]

[A set of 12 voices come over the shipwide communications.... singing? Other Systems appear to begin to be sabotaged as their "Song" continues]

Knock Knock

Who's There?

Knock Knock

Better Run and Hide

Your Home's Turned Into a House of Glass

Think of the Lives Your Wasting Now

So Throw Out Your Negotiations

Knock Knock

Anybody Answer

Knock Knock

We're Coming Through the Doors

Knock Knock

Your Ceiling and Your Floors

Knock Knock

Should've Given You the Bark

Things are Gonna Get Dark

Don't Choke When Ya Fear Us

Cause We Aren't Smoke

Or Mirrors

Pushing All Your Buttons but Ain't Got Mute

But All You'll Hear Is Silence When We Find You

So

KNOCK KNOCK

Better Ready to Answer

KNOCK KNOCK

Forgetting All Your Manners

KNOCK KNOCK

Barricade Your Doors

KNOCK KNOCK

Your Ceilings and Your Floors

Floating Into Your House

Bringing You a War

//WHEELLOCK\\

Brigand stands on the bridge, gazing out through Shallow Crimson Tide. His single eye is dim, casting a puddle of weak red light around him, as he stares off into the middle distance. Around the room, the bridge crew throw nervous glances at their absent captain. The bridge crew, the loyal few, are all non-corsairs. All are clearly grizzled veterans, marked by time's heavy hand. Their myriad scars exaggerated by the low light of the bridge, long shadowed valleys carved in old skin. Most are augmented in one way or another. There might just be more prosthesis than natural flesh in the room. Most bear tattoos, even if their not visible here. The logos of long dead pirate crews, symbols denoting great deeds and greater violence. One by one, the terminals around the room go dark. Still, Brigand does not react, yet The Black Hand twitches with each downed system:

"We've lost long and short range comms!"

"No more surveillance Cap'n, powers been rerouted t'life support. . ."

"Even hydroponics is dark. . ."

"Engineering bays 1 through 7 have gone silent!"

"Lost contact with medbay."

"Flight capabilities are gone Captain! We're sitting idle now. . ."

"Habitation's lost it's spin, gravity ship wide is on the fritz!"

"Quartermaster Able says they've lost power down in cargo!"

"C.R.E.W. on gunnery 1, 2, and 4 report near complete power loss!"

"Internal weapons systems are offline?!"

"Hangers are locked tight, nothing in or out."

"They've got control of locking corridor doors sir, security couldn't reach them, even with hull cutters, their like fucking gho-"

The Black Hand slams into the nearest wall. The bridge goes near silent, the sound only whirring fans and beeping terminals. Brigand heaves heavy breaths, distorted to sound like some dying, demented pipe organ. Every head turns to gaze upon the captain. . .

And for just a moment the mask has slipped. It is clear in how he stands, slumped and teetering slightly, that the suit is all that holds him upright. Even then, he leans heavily on a support beam, warped by The Black Hand's impact and it's lasting presence. He seems so small in this moment. A man broken by the world, given in to madness and death. Consumed by hate and the influence of that terrible, black appendage. He looks as if he will collapse under the weight of it all, before he stands mostly straight.

He turns to address the bridge. Yet when he speaks, his voice lacks a degree of threat. He is tired, worn down, when was the last time he slept? No one has seen him sleep since donning Shallow Crimson Tide. . .

[BRIGAND} LABYRINTH, TELL ABLE TO BRING OUT THE PIPECLEANERS, SHOOT TO KILL, OVERRIDE SAFETY PROTOCOLS.

He takes a shaking step forward, regaining his composure by the moment. An older man with a snake tattoo coiled about his neck nods and begins hammering away at his keyboard. Most of the terminals are off, less than a dozen remain on. The pale glow lights waiting faces. He looks to a heavily scarred woman, much her face replaced with crude cybernetics.

[BRIGAND} COSSACK! FIRE THE BLINK DRIVE. I DON'T CARE WHERE, SOMEWHERE REMOTE. THEY WON'T LEAVE HERE ALIVE.

The woman nods, connecting a cable from the terminal to a port roughly where her temple should be. The remaining crew are split, those with terminals still active start checking status of remaining systems preemptively, while the rest look expectantly to Brigand, awaiting orders. Brigand eye flares as he bellows through the tinny speakers:

[BRIGAND} OILER! WHATS OUR STATUS WITH MAINTE-

He is cut off by the woman with the metal face, Cossack. Her voice is similar to his own, but more human somehow. The not quite synthetic voice is a jumble of emotions. Foremost is confusion, and concern, followed by fear:

[Cossack]> SIR! I don't know how to tell you this but. . .

Yet there is also humour, a nervous laugh spills out as she pauses.

[BRIGAND} WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LAUGHING AT COSSACK? [Cossack]> The blink drive sir, it-its. . .

She laughs again, disbelief pushing through the digital staccato. Brigand lurches towards her terminal. But he is a giant among hedgerows. The space between control stations is tight and there is no room for him. The eye burns with contempt, settling on Cossack like a searchlight. His voice is worse, peaking the limits of it's distortion as his temper flares.

[BRIGAND} THIS IS NO TIME FOR ANOTHER OF YOUR "JOKES". [Cossack]> The blink drive is gone, sir. Not offline, it's not even present, not even here. Empty air where it should be. . .

The room is silent again for a moment as Cossack's not-voice trails off. All stare at her, faces painted with confusion, with disbelief. She turns away from the gawking crowd and works at her terminal. The rest of the crew converse in hushed tones, those with working terminals start their own checks. After a moment, a flickering hologram is projected above them all. A live feed diagnostic with accompanying 3D wire map.

The room is silenced.

The blink drive is gone.

[rabidmuttz]

hold my collar and walk me out to the backyard. pet me and kiss my forehead gingerly. tell me i'm a good boy and you'll always love me. look into my innocent, curious eyes and press the barrel right between.

[lifeofpriya]

Boyfriend of the Year - Jack Draper imagine

[gif credit goes to @fritzes]

author's note: hellooooo! i wanted to try my hand at writing something for a tennis beloved and well, here we are! quick shoutout to @2manytabsopen for introducing me to this adorable dork and yeah, i hope y'all enjoy this as much i enjoyed writing this fic 🫶🏼

summary: a tough day from work leads to a night of love and spoiling...

As soon as you sat down on the bench at the nearest bus stop near your workplace, the dam of the tears held back all day burst open. The cool evening breeze brushed against your damp cheeks, bringing a shiver as your shoulders convulsed in silent sobs. The day had been particularly harsh, leaving you drained and defeated. The café where you worked had been busier than usual, with a never-ending stream of customers and a broken espresso machine that seemed to have a vendetta against you. Your boss had been in one of her moods, barking orders and expecting perfection as if you were a robot, not a human being with feelings. The weight of your world felt unbearable in the quiet solitude of the evening.

Jack's call had come like a beacon of light in the storm. "Hey, love," he said, his voice a warm embrace over the phone. “Wait, why are you crying, sweetheart?"

You tried to hold it together, but the words tumbled out in a jumbled mess. "It's… it's been such a day, Jack. The machine broke down, and the customers were just… unrelenting. And Regina, she was…" You didn't need to say more; Jack knew Regina's reputation for making the sunniest days feel like a downpour.

Jack's voice grew firm but gentle. "I'm on my way. Stay put. I'll be there soon." He hung up, and you felt a glimmer of hope in the pit of your stomach. You leaned your head against the cool glass of the bus shelter, watching the world blur by in streaks of light and shadow as cars passed by. The scent of freshly cut grass from a nearby lawn wafted over, mingling with the faint aroma of someone's takeout. The distant hum of the city provided a soothing white noise to your racing thoughts.

Fifteen minutes later, a sleek black car pulled up beside the bus stop. The passenger door swung open, and Jack's athletic frame filled the space, his eyes scanning the area until they found you. He stepped out, his tennis shoes thudding against the pavement, and in three long strides, he was by your side, wrapping his arms around you. His embrace was strong and comforting, like a lighthouse guiding you to safety. He smelled faintly of sweat and grass, a reminder of the hours he spent on the court that afternoon, but it was the scent of home and love that you focused on as you buried your face into his chest.

"Hey," he whispered, stroking your hair gently. "Let's get you out of here."

Jack guided you into the car, his hand never leaving your back as he settled you into the plush leather seat. The car's interior smelled faintly of his cologne, a scent that was uniquely his, and it helped to ease the tension in your body. He closed the door with a soft click and circled around to the driver's side. As he slid in beside you, he turned the key in the ignition, and the engine purr like a contented cat came to life. The car's heated seats began to warm up, and you felt the first stirrings of comfort spread through your cold body.

Jack reached over and took your hand, giving it a squeeze before shifting gears and pulling out into the evening traffic. The city lights reflected in his eyes as he focused on the road ahead, his jaw set in determination to get you home as quickly as possible. You watched the scenery pass by, the blur of buildings and people becoming a soothing panorama that seemed to match the rhythm of your slowing heartbeat. The leather seats were still warm from the day's sun, and you leaned into them, letting the comfort seep into your bones.

As the car glided through the streets, Jack began to talk, sharing the details of his own day on the tennis courts. His voice was low and soothing, the words a gentle stream that washed over you. You found yourself smiling through the tears as he recounted a particularly hilarious mishap during his training session, his laughter echoing in the car. His thumb rubbed small circles on the back of your hand, sending waves of warmth up your arm. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a promise that everything would be okay.

The ride home was a blend of comforting silence and casual banter, Jack occasionally glancing over to check on you, his eyes filled with concern. When the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, the reality of the day's events began to creep back in, but Jack's presence was a shield against the gloom. He helped you out of the car, your legs feeling like jelly after the emotional rollercoaster of the day. The sound of your shoes on the sidewalk was the only noise that broke the serenity of the evening.

\\\

Once inside the apartment, Jack led you to the couch, his hand never leaving the small of your back. He grabbed a box of tissues from the coffee table and sat down next to you, handing you a few. You took them gratefully, dabbing at your eyes and nose, feeling the warmth of his body beside you. The apartment was filled with the comforting aroma of dinner that he must have ordered while you were on the phone. It smelled like your favorite Italian place, with hints of garlic and tomato sauce.

"Jack, you didn't have to," you murmured, trying to protest, but he shushed you with a gentle kiss to the forehead.

"I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Now, tell me everything."

You sighed, the weight of the day's troubles slowly lifting as you recounted the endless list of disasters at work. The broken machine, the unreasonable customers, and the relentless pressure from your boss. Jack listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, nodding along as if he could feel every ounce of your frustration. His empathy was palpable, a silent understanding that wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

As you spoke, he reached over and gently wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. His touch was tender, and for a moment, you forgot about the chaos of the day. "It's okay," he said, his voice a gentle reassurance. "You're safe here."

Jack stood up and walked over to the kitchen, returning with two steaming plates of pasta. He set one down in front of you, the cheese bubbling and the garlic bread crunchy on the side. The sight of food was almost comical, given your emotional state, but the comfort it represented was undeniable. "Eat," he urged, handing you a fork. "You'll feel better."

You took a bite, the warm, saucy goodness filling your mouth and stomach. The taste was heavenly, and with each chew, the tension in your shoulders lessened. You watched as Jack took a bite of his own, his eyes never leaving yours. The way he chewed thoughtfully, his eyes focused on you, made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

As you ate, Jack began to outline a plan for the rest of the evening. "We're going to have a little at-home spa night," he declared, his voice filled with excitement. "Bubble bath, face masks, the works."

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Jack, you don't have to do all this."

He squeezed your hand. "I know, but I want to. You deserve it after the day you've had."

Jack cleared the dinner plates away and led you to the bathroom, which had been transformed into a sanctuary of tranquility. The room was suffused with the scent of lavender and vanilla, courtesy of the candles flickering on the shelves and the bath bomb dissolving in the water. He'd drawn you a bath with bubbles that rose like a cloud around you, the water a perfect temperature that made you want to sink in and never leave.

He helped you out of your work clothes, his touch careful and loving, as if handling something fragile. You stepped into the tub, the warmth enveloping you instantly. The bubbles tickled your skin, and you couldn't help but let out a contented sigh as you sank deeper into the water.

Jack knelt beside the tub, his hand holding yours. "Just relax," he murmured, his eyes filled with so much love it was almost tangible. “I’ll go grab the face masks. You’re going to pamper yourself until you’re all smiles again, okay?"

You nodded, watching as he left the room. The sound of his footsteps grew faint before returning with a soft patter. He set a tray on the floor beside the tub, laden with face masks, a glass of sparkling water, and a chocolate bar. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of it all. "Jack, you're too much," you said, but the joy in your voice was undeniable.

He handed you a face mask and grinned. "No such thing as too much pampering after a day like today." He sat down on the edge of the tub, his knees bent, and carefully applied the mask to your face. His touch was gentle, his fingers lingering on your skin, making sure it was applied evenly. You felt the coolness of the mask begin to warm, tingling slightly as it worked its magic.

Jack leaned back against the wall, his arms around his bent legs, watching you with a soft smile. "You know," he said, "I've had my fair share of bad days on the court. The kind where nothing seems to go right, and you just want to throw your racket against the ground."

You chuckled through the face mask, the sound muffled but genuine. "It's not quite the same, but I get it."

Jack nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's all about the comeback, though. You'll have a better day tomorrow. And if you don't, well, we'll just have to do this again." He squeezed your hand reassuringly.

The minutes ticked by as you soaked in the warmth, feeling the tension in your muscles melt away. The flickering candles cast a soft glow over the room, making the bubbles dance in the light. The sound of the water lapping gently against the sides of the tub was hypnotic, lulling you into a state of relaxation.

Jack leaned over and kissed your forehead. "You look like you're already feeling better," he said, his voice filled with hope.

You managed a small smile. "Thanks to you."

Jack stood up and handed you the glass of sparkling water. "Drink up," he said. "It's important to stay hydrated, especially after a crying marathon." He winked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little. The bubbles popped around you as you took a sip, the cold liquid feeling refreshing against your dry throat.

\\\

After a while, he helped you out of the tub, wrapping you in a plush bathrobe that smelled like fresh laundry, and handed you one of his hoodies and sweatpants before he briefly left the bathroom to give you privacy as you changed. You carefully removed the face mask and discarded it. When you emerged from the bathroom, you found Jack had set up a cozy space on the bed with fluffy pillows and blankets. The TV was playing a favorite sitcom on low volume, providing a gentle background of laughter and familiarity.

He sat beside you, unfurling a face mask for himself. "Solidarity," he said with a grin, placing it over his features. The sight of him in a pink, glittery mask made you laugh out loud, despite the lingering sadness. It was a welcome release of tension.

You settled into the bed, the plushness of the pillows cradling your weary body. The soft fabric of the hoodie was heaven against your skin, and the warmth of the blankets enveloped you like a cocoon. As the sitcom played, you both lay there, the sound of your breathing synced in a comforting rhythm. The TV's glow painted the room with soft, shifting colors, and the laugh track grew fainter as your eyes grew heavier.

Jack reached over and took your hand again, his fingers lacing through yours. His touch was grounding, a reminder that you weren't alone. "Better?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, the weight of the day's troubles slowly lifting. "Much better," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. The warmth of his hand was a lifeline, pulling you back to the present.

Jack leaned over and gently kissed your cheek. "Good," he said, his smile visible even through the face mask. "Now, let's get to the serious part of the evening." He grabbed the chocolate bar from the tray and broke off a piece, holding it to your lips. You took a bite, the sweetness spreading over your tongue, the sugar rush bringing a spark of energy to your drained body.

You laid there, side by side, munching on chocolate and watching the sitcom, the laughter from the TV mixing with Jack's occasional snort of amusement. His hand remained in yours, his thumb making lazy circles that sent bolts of comfort through you. The scent of the candles and the clean, fresh smell of the bubble bath clung to the air, creating a cocoon of peace that seemed to push the rest of the world away.

As the show went on, you found yourself dozing off, the rhythmic sound of Jack's breathing and the softness of the pillow beneath your head lulling you into a much-needed nap. When you woke up, the TV had been turned off, and the room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Jack was gone, but the warmth from his side of the bed remained, like a memory of his presence.

You rolled over to find him sitting at the small desk, scribbling something on a notepad. The sight of his focused expression made you smile. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice still thick with sleep.

Jack looked up, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Just writing down some thoughts," he said, tapping the pad with his pen. "Ideas for your birthday surprise."

Your heart fluttered at the mention of your birthday, which was just a week away. Jack had been planning something special, but he had been tight-lipped about the details. "Jack, you really don't have to—"

"Shh," he said, holding up a finger. "It's a surprise. But trust me, you're going to love it."

You watched him for a moment longer, his concentration unbroken, before letting out a content sigh and snuggling deeper into the blankets. The warmth of the room was like a cocoon, the scent of the candles lingering gently in the air. Your eyes grew heavy again, and you closed them, feeling the last remnants of the day's stress begin to dissipate.

[mushiemellows]

drunken love confessions: frobin, 4

(For Drunken Love Confession prompts, still accepting requests)

"I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back."

It took a lot to get Franky drunk. He teetered on stilted legs as he wandered from the banquet in the Thriller Bark ruins, plagued by a haze of vague memories of dancing on tables…maybe? He wasn’t sure. The world rocked around him, grass and dirt on an island that was actually a massive castle-boat in the middle of the ocean. 

No, that wasn’t right. 

He swayed with the world around him, grass and dirt on a ship that he’d built himself moored to a castle-boat-zombie-island-thingy. Franky didn’t quite know how he’s managed to find himself back on Sunny’s deck, but you know what they say. People always come home in the end. 

His eyes must have been on the fritz because he couldn’t make out fore from aft. Bunks were in one of the directions…but which one? He didn’t know. Fifty-fifty shot. He liked his odds. The cyborg stumbled into the door on his left with boundless hope for his bed, but was sorely disappointed to be greeted by the cold blues of the aquarium bar. Bright eyes snapped up to greet him, sourced from a shadow backlit by glowing glass. Eyes, hands, legs, lips, bangs, books, boots, bust; all his new favorite little shapes, even if he hadn’t found the right time to tell her just yet. 

“Franky?” Robin looked up from the seat with a frown, “is everything alright?” 

“’S’isn’t th’guys' room,” Franky slurred with a blink and a spin back toward the exit. He stared at the flat wall, certain that he’d built a door to the bar when he’d designed it. One of his prostheses rose to knock against the boards with a hope that the way out would appear. He mumbled to himself, “where’s th…?”

Two hands manifested out of nowhere at his waist to guide him just three feet to the right and back out onto the deck. He was halfway across the grass when he realized that the hands were attached to a body, one that supported him through his blackout stupor. “A bit too much fun at the party?” The demon under his arm laughed low. 

“Nahhhh, m’sup’r.” 

“Oh, are you?”

“‘Course I yam, pretty lady! Whud’else would I be?!”

Robin slowed to adjust her grip on his core and her support of his heavy guns. An extra hand blossomed to card through his drooping updo, pushing the fallen tower of turquoise away from bleary eyes. “You’re right,” she smiled, “I don’t know what else you would be.” 

“I’m—I—and you, and I, and we, but,” he swayed as they reached the door to the boys’ bunks. Eyes fluttered shut. Internal systems beeped in an alert. Beverage concentration levels had grown dangerous to the carbo-capilary distribution mechanism. He wasn’t built to run on ethanol. “Fuck, uhhhhhh beep beep. ’S too much. Purge mode activated,” Franky rolled off of her and toward the little water closet under the stairs. 

“Wait!” She extended a hand, one from herself and one from his shoulder to try and stop him, but it was too late. The cyborg burst through the door and dropped like a steel boulder onto his knees in front of the toilet. Her phantom hand caught his flaccid updo right as he spilled his guts. A night of celebration all came back at once to haunt him, followed by tears of apology and embarrassment. It wasn’t like him to lose his cool, especially in front of a crush. 

Franky babbled senselessly into the bowl through each wave of nausea. A garden of hands sprouted all around him to fetch towels and blankets and glasses of water, though one more tangible than the rest knead soft circles into the sensitive skin between his shoulder blades. “‘M sup’r s’rry, d’worry ‘bout me, pretty lady. Y’go back to read’n ya book. Don’t wanna b—,” he attempted before the machine rejected another phase of improper fuel. “—burden ya.” 

“Burden? Never,” Robin crooned behind him. Even more hands held his hair out of his face, now tenderly scraping nails along the nape of his neck. His touch wandered to blindly entwine himself in a thousandth comforting limb. Two of his big, prosthetic fingers nestled against her palm. He briefly considered kissing her hand if his mouth didn’t still linger with the taste of phosphoric acid. 

“You’re s’fuckin’ nice t’me. I love ya so goddam much, every time I look’atcha I get this funny lil’ feelin’ in my chest and at first I thought’t wuz’a malfunction thingy but I did some testin’ and I realized ‘m all fuckin’sup’r and ’s you. Ya know that? You! ’S fuckin’ wild, huh? But I,” he paused to let loose one more time, “I don’t wanna freak ya out ’n we’re stuck on this’ship togetha ’n I don’t wanna make it weird but I got all these dreams’a bein’ with ya ’n—’n—’n I just know the world’s bett’r with you alive in it. Yeah? Yeah. You’re too nice t’me. So sup’r. Stay with me t’night?”

Robin chuckled as she knelt at his side, pressing one quick kiss against his clammy temple. Real hands pushed his hair back. “Oh, Franky,” she hummed, “I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom in this moment. I’ll stay with you tonight, if only to make sure that you’re safe. The rest we can talk about in the morning once you’ve sobered up. How does that sound?”

Franky smiled, hopeful even through his illness, cheek iced on the porcelain bowl, “yeah, Nico Robin. That sounds sup’r.” 

[mysoftboybensolo]

The "Why Henry Frankenstein is Awesome and I Love Him and Elizabeth" Post

I love Henry as well as his relationship with Elizabeth from Frankenstein (1931) and Bride of Frankenstein.

What should be noted is that Henry from the movies is different from Victor in the novel. He has faith in his creation and doesn't abandon him, he tries to teach him and the motivation to create was because of a genuine desire to understand life and make progress in science. It's only when the creature attacks Fritz does he concede to putting him down, but even then, he understands that the creature was being tortured by Fritz and wants him to be killed in the more humane way. And unlike Victor in the novel, Henry actually told his loved ones the danger and helped to avoid serious collateral damage.

Honestly, as much as we give credit to Boris Karloff for his performance, and rightfully so, we need to give credit to Colin Clive. He created a version of Frankenstein that makes him more humane, flawed but good, someone who loves more than he hates, and he is may favorite version of him, and in this moment, this is why.

At the end of Bride of Frankenstein, when Elizabeth tries to take Henry away from the castle, he refuses saying that he can't leave them, them being Pretorius, the Bride, and the Creature. It's remarkable that even after all the horror the Creature had inflicted on Henry and others, Henry still seems to hold some kind of compassion for his creations, that he is willing to die with them. Colin Clive says it not as if he wants to stay because he has a death wish or even because he feels obligated to stay, but because he does care. And when Karloff's creature tells him to go, which is such a wonderful delivery, as if he cares for his creator, it gives the Creature sympathy and redemption, but also makes Henry more complex of a hero than just some dumb and selfish person is can come across in the novel.

Photo credit to @colincliveforever

This look he gives before leaving is what made me love this version of Henry. Clive looks back at him with such pity and compassion that makes the ending a bittersweet tale.

Now, let me explain why Henry and Elizabeth are perhaps my favorite Universal Monster couple.

Elizabeth comes into the film determined to find out what is going on with her fiancé, asking his best friend and his professor, then not only had decided to join friend to investigate, but motivates the professor to go with them to speak to Henry. People may say she is flat, but in these scenes, we see her character; she loves Henry deeply, is on good terms with his friend, even gently putting him in his place when he suggests his romantic feelings, then will not be talked out of seeing Dr. Waldman, and convinces the men to go and see Henry. Without her, the plot may not have went forward the way it did.

Although Henry wanted no one to come in, as soon as he sees Elizabeth is there, he is willing to let them in, and tries to gently tell her to go, as he is so close to achieving his goal. Unlike perhaps some other Universal heroines, Elizabeth doesn't immediately dismiss his experiment, nor does she try to lure him away, but says she does support him, but will not leave him. Proving so, she goes into the lab and witness Henry bringing a dead body back to life, despite looking frightened at first. I love too that while Henry barks at Victor to sit down, he gently asks her to sit, "please", he adds. I love the trope of a guy getting soft around his lady love, and clearly, Elizabeth is his moral backbone.

Much what makes them work is that Colin Clive has great chemistry with both actresses who play Elizabeth, that even the jarring change from the blonde Mae Clarke to the brunette Valerie Hobson can't change that. Regardless of which actress he is playing with, Colin Clive always treats his Elizabeth with tender respect and love, making me wish I knew more about their relationship.

Hobson's Elizabeth shows off exactly what I loved about her character is how she has an inner strength, most notably in the scene where she tells off Pretorius, which makes even someone as unbothered as he is be, well, bothered by this. Even when she is kidnapped, she attempts to tell Henry where she is, and, even though we don't see it, I am headcanoning that she escaped on her own and got to the castle.

Then comes a moment that becomes one of my favorite Henry x Elizabeth scenes. At the end of Bride of Frankenstein, Elizabeth gets to Henry, desperately tries to get in the lab, unaware of the danger. Henry tells her to leave, warning her of the danger, but her response? "I won't unless you come," a line that Hobson's delivery truly sells the belief that she truly would have stayed with him.

Photo credit to @colincliveforever

Among the other Universal Monster series couples, they are far from boring, far from uninteresting, and in short, I love them to bits, both separate from each other, and together.

[funny-little-comics]

Story Snippet 2 (MAW Spoilers)

It was just the two of them, now, in the office.

Fritz left first, giddy as can be since his daughter called asking to see him, her finals coming to an end.

Cutter had a date to catch with Sunny - David and his glorious mustache help you if you hold them up.

As for Duncan – Tylor thought it best he doesn’t involve himself as the winged-slug-like monster left, Roto barking after him, excitedly.

Especially given what happened not too many days ago. It was days, right? Never mind, now was the time for Tylor to strike - so to speak. "Hey, Roger?" His voice cracks, nervous, and he hastily clears his throat. "Yes?" The green-furred monster doesn't turn to face Tylor, humming cheerfully as he picks up the remaining papers on his desk, filing them away. Having five tentacles makes the process quicker than if he had only two. Tylor takes a steady breath. "About earlier?" He taps his claws on the conference table, free hand rubbing underneath wide chin. "I feel I didn't sit and properly tell you how sorry I am about -" "Oh that?" Roger chuckles and looks over, clicking the filing cabinet's draw close. "It's okay, really. It's like I said - if I heard someone exchanging some heated words -" "I know," Tylor interrupts, "but we were under pressure - with Johnny and Randall and that whole, uh -" "The combination of two sources of power that would inevitably overheat and combust, blowing us all to smithereens, leaving behind a crater that would burn for the next couple hundreds of years?" Roger suggests, his usual smile slipping somewhat. "Yeah, that." Tylor nods, awkward. Roger hums. "It would have been a nasty outcome, but thankfully we were able to stop that from happening." "Right." Just say it, Tylor Tuskmon. "I'm sorry, Roger. I had you pegged as someone to be suspicious of, that there was no way someone could be as nice as you have been. I was convinced that something was wrong, that you were up to no good." Roger sits, listening, that smile not quite as upbeat as usual. "Then when I found your record, read what was written in it, who you were -" Roger's smile falters. Tylor sighs. "I shouldn't have done that. I should have talked to you or to even ask you what was wrong when I and Val overheard you on the phone at the very least. I shouldn't have assumed you were as rotten as your -" He stops himself, in part not wanting to finish that vocal thought, but noticing the way Roger tensed up. Roger is silent for the length of a held breath. "Well," he says, a whisper, really, "like I said before, I couldn't blame you for thinking that way. How could you not?" He smiles tersely. "I'm his son." "You're not him, though. I recognize that, and the others do, too." Tylor points out. "It's like Sully said -" "Sully and Mike are a lot nicer about it, more forgiving than they should be after what happened between them and my dad." Roger turns away suddenly, running limited fingers over the propped-up ukulele's strings. "That said - there are some things that can't be shaken off when it comes to a name."

[gorogues]

Fictober 2024

Prompt number #18 Fanfiction Fandom: Flash Rogues Rating: T – Teen and up Warnings: Injury (concussion), profanity

Day Eighteen: “You always have a plan”

“The Rogues don’t run,” Len always said, but things had gone sideways and they found themselves fleeing anyway.  They’d been ambushed on a job by unseen attackers, who’d fired some beanbag rounds at Len’s head and successfully damaged their primary weapons.

“I’ve got you,” Mark told Len with concern, letting the other man lean on him as they walked.  “Just focus on putting one foot in front of another.”

“We need…we need shelter,” Len said wearily, plagued with blurred vision and struggling to focus.

Axel came running back to the group, only five feet above the ground to keep a lower profile.  “I don’t see anyone up ahead!”

Evan had been fiddling with his broken mirror gun with obvious frustration on his face.  “Whole thing’s rotten, pals.  It’ll need tae be entirely rebuilt in ma lab.”

“Shelter,” Len repeated, so Mark squinted at their surroundings, noticing a shed or some sort of outbuilding nearby.  Without a word, he steered their injured leader towards it, and there was a stroke of good luck: it was unlocked and there was a switch to flick on some fritzing lightbulbs.

“What is this place?  And who the hell knew to attack us strategically like that?” Axel wondered as they trooped inside and Mark helped Len to sit down.  There were a couple of lawnmowers and some other landscaping equipment around them, so it seemed like it was probably a groundskeeper’s shed.

“Might be a reflective surface in here fur an escape,” Evan suggested, busying himself in a search.

And then the building went dark.

“Uh…what was that?  Who turned out the lights?” Axel asked, looking around and seeing nothing but darkness.  There were no windows set into the building.

“Nae good,” Evan fretted.  “We’re gawn nowhere wi’oot any reflection!”

“They must have followed us.  Cold, what do we do?” Mark asked worriedly, and Len groaned with exhaustion and a pounding headache.  He was dizzy and struggling to remain conscious for fear of a concussion.

“Don’t know.”

“You’ve got to have a plan.  You always have a plan!” Axel told him desperately.

“Mirror gun, cold gun, and weather wand are busted, right?” Len said, doing his best to concentrate.  Mark nodded, but then realized they were in darkness and corrected himself.

“Yes.”

“B-best bet is to make some light and try to escape that way.  We’ll get clobbered in a fight without weapons,” Len finally suggested.

It was then that they heard the movements of multiple people around the shed.

“FBI!  Hands up now!” a voice barked, and Mark swore under his breath.

“Give up before somebody else gets hurt, guys,” a more familiar voice added, and this time everybody swore.

“James fuckin’ Jesse..!” Axel exclaimed, rifling through his bag to find an explosive toy or anything to throw at his vengeful predecessor.  He didn’t relish the thought of ending up in the first Trickster’s custody.

“No wonder they knew exactly how to target us,” Len muttered, though at least he felt slightly better now that he didn’t have to focus his wavering vision in the dark.  “We need light.  Now.”

“I got sparklers,” Axel offered.

“That’d be risky, since the low licht would gies us a poor reflection” Evan said skeptically.  “We might get lost and no’ be able to find our way oot.”

“We don’t got a lot of options.  Try it,” Len ordered, so Axel pulled out every sparkler he had in his bag of tricks and pulled their tabs to light them all at once.

Then a battering ram struck the door, causing it to shudder inward.

Evan frantically searched for a reflective surface within the shed, rubbing his hands over the lawnmowers and equipment to uncover a potential shine under the caked grass and dirt.  But everything appeared to have a dull matte finish.

“Wait!  I’ve got a mirror!” Mark suddenly remembered, pulling a small compact mirror out of his pocket, and Evan snatched it away to hold next to the sparklers which were almost out of fuel.  He concentrated, angling the mirror and lights for optimum reflection, and shoved Len inside the portal.  Then Mark, and then Axel.

The door broke down, flooding the shed with light, and Evan grinned at the invading FBI agents.

“Awright, efters.”

Then he too was gone.

“Dammit!” James growled, throwing his gun to the ground.  “We need to do a better job of incapacitating the Mirror Master next time!”

“Where’d that mirror come from, anyway?” Axel asked as they got Len to lie down on the couch with a cover for his eyes and a huge ice pack for his head.

“Oh, well, I forgot that I keep it as a back-up escape hatch for our emergency situations,” Mark answered as nonchalantly as possible, a bit uncomfortable.  Nobody needed to know how often he checked his hair, after all.

[hiimweird3]

Random Ethgoesboom head canons

I know I mostly post Sams/laes stuff but damnit Ethgoesboom is a channel that will live in my heart and mind rent free forever so here's head cannons I made at work not all characters though some will have more then others

Everyone: every character who's possessed by a childs spirit lost big parts of their personalities after they were killed and when Afton was confronted by them for the first time he didn't recognize them as the kids he killed at first

Freddy: Freddy sometimes wants to give his microphone to Bonnie Chica and even foxy somedays because he really wants to give them the chance to shine in the spotlight, once when candy tied both of them up Freddy tried calling everyone for help because he wasn’t in the mood react to anything that day but when bonnie foxy and chica came to check on them they just laughed and took pictures before leaving, the big part of Gabriel's personality that got lost after his death was that he was someone who couldn't ever be in the spotlight because he was afraid that people would laugh at him but he would look up to Freddy because of how confident he was so when he possessed Freddy he gained that confidence

Foxy: foxy is banned from playing bored games after he threw the monopoly board and broke the window of the office,the big part of Fritz's personality that was lost was that he was extremely smart when it came to marine biology and would always say if he couldn't be a pirate when he grew up he was at least going to do something involving the sea so he can always be with it had he grow he would've done anything he could to clean the ocean

BB: BB is possessed by the soul of the biological little brother of Fritz so he and foxy are actually siblings and when alive both saw the soul in JJ as a little sister, actually no personality was lost from him because he died extra young so there wasn’t much to lose

Bonnie: Bonnie is banned from playing Uno with foxy for his own safety after he annoyed foxy so much that foxy punched him very hard and broke one of his teeth and to answer the question they both lost to cupcake and had to make Chica and cupcake pizza for a week, the big part of Jeremy's personality that was lost is that he was very much a fighter yes he was a comedic child but pick on his friends and family and he will break your nose (yes this is based on the theory that Jeremy died fighting)

You’re probably thinking that chica is next but I believe in saving the best for last so she will be last, love you chica :3 💛

Golden Freddy: Goldie has dreams of if he and everyone were never killed by Afton and sometimes he would wake up crying because of how much he wished it was real, Goldie also had nightmares of not being able to protect everyone from the nightmares or springtrap (I have honestly no idea what part of his soul’s personality would be lost since idk if eth’s doing the two soul theory or not so unfortunately he won’t have that part puppet too)

The puppet: much like Goldie puppet had dreams where no one was killed and also has nightmares of not being able to protect them but something different is that they also dream of the day everyone’s souls are finally free and they can have fun and finally relax with their families and other friends in the afterlife

The cupcake crew: whenever the cupcakes are extra protective especially to their chica’s they growl and bark since they’re possessed by dogs (watch the movie again and try telling me that cupcake isn’t a dog I f🐬king dare you) ,the reason chica can understand the cupcakes/ all small food animatronics is because of how much Susie loved animals especially her own dog when they were killed their souls connected in a way that allows her to finally understand what her bestiest friend and it allowed her to understand other animatronic possessed by pets

(Sorry toys, phantoms, nightmares, etc I got nothing for y’all)

Main fowa together: due to how long they’ve been with each other they all see each other as siblings chica being the youngest of them but in life some of them had actual siblings (like bb) and the ones with siblings will sit with each other and talk about what they remember about said sibling, very rarely they would refer to each other by their real names especially when talking about something serious (example:

Foxy: Freddy you need to talk to us something is clearly upsetting you

Freddy:guys I’m fine…

Bonnie:but you’re clearly not Freddy..

Freddy:…I’m fine i swear-

Chica: Fred-…Gabriel!..please talk to us we want to help you with whatever is hurting you..)

Chica 💛: chica has pizza hidden in vents all over the pizzeria that she eats though out the day and she eats all of them and surprisingly none gets spoiled because she always remembers where they are, she’s terrified of bugs and actually sprays herself with bug spray after her cockroach infestation, (had to give some happyish ones before the main point sorry long and kinda sad) Susie lost basically all of her personality when she died due to her A. Possessing a animatronic who’s supposed to be gluttonous and B. Being killed on a empty stomach she didn’t eat breakfast because she was saving room for pizza and birthday cake then her dog got hit by a car and she was too sad to eat anything before being killed, when alive Susie was very smart, and if she wasn’t going to be a veteran when she grew she could’ve been a amazing actress where she’d get the spotlight but now she doesn’t get the spotlight and her knowledge is gone due to being in constant pain from a empty stomach that can never be filled (this also is my own FNAF theory for Susie too not just for egb)

That’s all I got fowa now I’ll try thinking of more later thanks fowa reading