#he just got those lil paw pad things

[nestedfeathers]

He has fingers.

[no-sleep-fox]

I wanna hold back from talking too much about my lil PPT AU Critters but I want to do it so much as well. Mainly so I can slowly reveal it over time once I get the ask blog for it set up. However, as a way to temporarily quell such urges for a couple of months.

I'll try giving small bit of info of them in my Uncontainable AU. Which will be under the cut for those who do wanna read 'em and stuff. ^^

Catnap

He quite literally can almost never go to sleep. No matter what he does or takes (like his own red gas, sleeping meds, etc.); it never works. There's only a few rare things that can help him fall asleep sometimes.

Catnap is selectively mute! He uses sign language majority of the time when communicating with others. Though if someone doesn't know sign language, he'll try other ways that won't involve talking to have a conversation with them. However, he does speak with those he trust the most.

It may not seem like it, though Catnap is actually the more skittish Critter of the bunch. So even if does not consider you as a threat nor a friend just yet. He'll avoid being in the same room with you at all as much as possible, unless needed in said room for whatever reason.

Dogday

Despite his extremely friendly personality and being accepting of everyone. New or old. Dogday can certainly shove that to the side if he really feels like it. Or if it's absolutely needed.

The paw pads on Dogday's hands can make a high pitched squeak sound if pressed against! The paw pads on his feet used to also squeak. However, due to such becoming annoying quickly, it was removed and left only on his hands.

Dogday tries to avoid conflict as much as possible. Whether that's between him and someone else, or between other people. He will do his best to try and have everything resolved peacefully.

KickinChicken

Kickin sticks his tongue out whenever he's concentrating/thinking a bunch on something. Majority of the time he doesn't even realize he's doing this.

He loves video games, he's the pro in them among the others. Though card games? He'd rather deal with his fears than play them as he fails almost instantly majority of the time in them.

Kickin knows how to dance quite well! Being practically a master in such for almost any kind of dance. He even uses his dance moves/skills whenever he needs to defend himself or something.

Bubba Bubbaphant

Bubba is one of the few experiments/Critters who were once human before. Having actually used to been part of helping create the bigger bodies.

Bubba can not see almost anything without his glasses, needing them practically 24/7. He'll basically be like Velma (1960's) whenever she had lost hers.

Bubba is the one to teach the other Critters about certain things that they don't know. Mainly on things such as how being a human was and everything like that.

Hoppy Hopscotch

Hoppy is known pretty well for jumping into things quickly without a second thought. Often landing her in fights or with something broken. Along with not only being on mild-bad terms with others. But a good lecture from some of the others.

Since the scientist had focused on her having the majority of her strength within her legs. Hoppy can barely pick anyone heavier than her, being able to pick up others who are as light as her. Or lighter than her. Those being Catnap and Icky Licky so far.

Hoppy had been one of the bigger problems for Playtime Co., not because she was dangerous. Despite that being a bit true. But because of how often she stood up to them and had them change a couple of things. One of them mainly being how their cartoon show was being scripted and everything.

Bobby Bearhug

Bobby had taken up the role of being the main nurse around Playcare due to wanting to ensure others become well over time. This lead her to being the one most toys came to whenever they got hurt or weren't feeling well.

She does her best to help others with their own problems, often pushing her own problems to the side. She sometimes has to be sat down herself and told to not do such.

Bobby is one of the more parent figures to the Minis, being able to be around them before they start being more aggressive. Whenever they do become aggressive around her though, she will usually get Catnap to ensure they do not attack.

CraftyCorn

Crafty is more shy and reserved, however, not as much as Catnap. She is a bit more willing to talk with others despite stuttering often when talking. Only talking more calmly whenever it's on a topic she feels the most comfortable with. Or knows she has some knowledge of said topic.

She had been able to get a bunch of classes related to the arts (music, art, fashion designing, etc.) and had them be in a building of their own. Because of this, she taught herself mostly on how to create outfits and design them. Usually using Catnap to showcase her final designs (physically made) to her. Sometimes getting Hoppy involved as well.

Crafty is the most sensitive when it comes to certain things. Mainly being more sensitive to being yelled at or criticized on something. Especially if it's in a more negative manner.

Picky Piggy

Just like Bubba, Picky was also human once. Having actually been Bubba's wife before becoming a bigger body as well. However, unlike him, she worked in the same place she does now; in Playcare's kitchen.

Picky didn't agree to being an older sibling towards Kickin, however, was basically forced into it anyway. Not in a bad way, to be exact. Merely that her attempts to not have Kickin see her as such failed to the point she began to see herself as such as well.

If you want something hit from afar or even caught, she's the one to go to. Having been a country gal before becoming a pig mascot, she was taught how to lasso things from afar. Along with how to shot something from so far away, however. Nowadays she uses the butcher knife on her person 24/7 as a substitute to hit things from far away.

[asexualbuthorny]

Oh god getting reborn as a hybrid fucked me up

CW: abuse, typical hybrid shennanigans, my version of hybrids is less human so ye, no actual smut but hybrids will experience heat/rut, i mean orgasms will be had but no one is sticking anything anywhere or touching any genitals, animal instincts, you’re a doggy:D, you’re also a big boi big man, a lil sad :(

When you first woke up as a baby you were very confused since you were supposed to be very dead. But really were too tired to give a shit so you thought you’d just go with the flow. Things got bad when you realized that your mom wasn’t a human but a hybrid kinda thingy. Mostly humanoid, with dog ears and a tail, a little less human facial structure, more fur, claws and paw pads on her hands. Your momma was a rottweiler hybrid and you guessed that you were too. You had hoped with all your puppy heart that this one of those stories where humans and hybrids lived in harmony but you were painfully wrong as this was a world where hybrids were seen as property and humans could do whatever they wanted with your kind. Things only got worse when you were sold off to some rich bastard and his kid as a “companion” though you knew you were more of a toy for the kid than anything else. You were ripped away from your mother and taken to some fancy place where you were forbidden from touching literally anything and were forced to live in a kennel outside. It wasn’t the worst you guessed. You had plenty of water and food and the kid would play with you all the time so you weren’t bored. That didn’t last long however. Ya see kids grow fast and as they grow they loose interest in old toys they used to play with so when the kiddo reached teenagehood you were mostly left alone in your kennel to do nothing but try not to go insane from the boredom and understimulation. Once your “owner” left for college the rich guy no longer had any use for you so he just gave you away to a “friend” to become his guard dog. “Hybrids of his kind are naturally aggressive. You’ll have no problem turning this one into a proper guard dog” he’d said and from there began your “training”. It was more like torture really. Anything and everything done without owners permission was worthy of a punishment, if you didn’t preform to standard you’d go hungry and thirsty. So you adapted. You learned to wait for orders, to be ready to slaughter someone at a moments notice. You learned to be violent. But most importantly you learned to be afraid. Afraid of being harmed, afraid of not getting enough to eat and drink, afraid of the shock collar your owner had around your neck, afraid of disobeying....

     The old bastard ended up dying from a heart attack. Not much you could have done there so all his possessions, including you, were left to the guys nephew. That sonoavabitch sold you to a fight ring. At least the being violent on command part of your training was useful. If owner said “bite” you bit, if owner said “kill” you killed, the scars you have gained over your life kept multiplying as your mind crumbled and very little of you was left. Obeying so you don’t get hurt and constant fear became the only things to occupy your mind, or what was left of it. Once again shit went sideways when the ring got shut down, the people running it arrested and you along with the others carted off to a shelter to look for “a new home”. HAH! bullshit. No one in their right mind would take a scarred ugly thing like you. You were going to die here....

[balefulbasal]

Why I Feel Miguel O’Hara (Spiderman 2099) Is Modeled After A Jumping Spider

NOTE: I’m broke, so I have not actually seen the movie. I read spoiler articles, watched the limited clips available on the internet, and engaged in discourse online from casual fans all the way up to storyboard writers for Miguel O’Hara. Therefore, I understand that my perception of this has the potential to be incomplete and limited.

CW: Points are numbered 1 - 8, with 8 being the longest and most opinionated, and set up from mild fun facts at the beginning to increasing in sad observations as the points carry on toward the end.

LET US COMMENCE!

1. Jumping spiders are known to jump & pounce on their prey, not graceful like most other spiders. Miguel jumps & pounces, not gracefully. Just force.

2. Phintella vittata jumping spiders detect ultraviolet light from UVB & have specialized surfaces on their bodies to reflect it. The digital/holographic suit could be a nod to this.

3. Jumping spiders are venomous like most other spiders, & their venom paralyzes rather than kills. This is what Miguels fangs do.

4. Jumping spiders make silk, but they don’t rely on it to make webs to catch prey. Many jumping spider species actively hunt their prey & use their webbing abilities mainly as an anchor when they get to jumping. Miguel is seen running on all fours, using his arms and upper body to get from one area to the next, using his webs as anchors instead of primary mobility.

5. Spider “paws” are very complex, as is the rest of their leg structures. But many have two “claws” that appear to be growing out from under the paw. (In Miguel’s case, one claw per finger pad) and they use these to grip onto certain surfaces. 

6. Miguel’s top half is huge, muscular, & those arms are a masterpiece. Jumping spiders are known to have large front legs that are used to hold down prey while injecting paralytic venom. I saw an article call jumping spiders larger front legs “Popeye arms” and I think that’s cute.

7. Jumping spiders are often demonized because they “look scary”. Many people are afraid of them because of how fast they move, & how they seem to stare into your soul if you get its attention. Miguel has the same effect on people. His appearance and demeanor come across as intimidating.

8. All spiders are beneficial to ecosystems as pest control. Often found in gardens, jumping spiders are great at keeping the peace within that environment. A sign of a healthy garden is the presence of jumping spiders. Miles was a disturbance in the ecosystem that big boy jumping spider Miguel had to handle. Like in a garden in real life, if the jumping spiders are gone, harmful bug species move in. Stopping/handling anomalies is how Miguel kept the peace in the Spiderverse. It’s noted in the movie that Miguel has no spidey sense. Jumping spiders rely heavily on their exceptional eyesight to detect motion, rather than their sensor “hairs.” Instead of primarily “feeling” the danger approaching, they have a better grasp on seeing/assessing what the threat is, & then making a decision. With a character like Miguel, this could be another nod to how his “overthinking” or “critical demeanor” is seen as a negative. He must see the situation/circumstance before acting. But since no other spider persons have this setback, he is seen as volatile, critical, & intimidating because of HAVING to do things differently. (I personally think he’s got the ‘Tism for many reasons, but ESPECIALLY because of lacking a necessary skill that all spider persons have, YET HE IS spider person. Sounds a lil neurodivergent. I WILL be doing another post building on that idea, and it WILL be painfully specific).

In Conclusion: In my opinion, Spiderman 2099 is the main Spider Person who has exact characteristics of a spider, instead of being spider-like adjacent, like most Spider Persons.

Thank you for reading!

[shorkbrian]

I guess the sane sibling (as in the one who isn't interested in their stepsibling not-platonically) is a rule to have a incest or pseudo-incest kink but it's just saddens my perverted sick fuck self 😭 I just wanted to yandere!step-bro Tamaki to be his creepy shy so I could (probably kill him in the process) worship his cock knowing the boy would jest get SO overwhelmed 🥴 I'm sorry but I want him to stuff his lil sis with his cum while he sobs 😭 when he sees it oozing out he would RIP

When I write a character to be yandere, it’s usually my intent to not glorify their behavior. If I were in the situation as reader, it would feel like a horror movie, bc yandere actions are so not cash money.

But I’m able to write like, non-yandere smut y’all. I’m still a dark content blog, and I’ll write kinks that are a bit.... well, dark, obvs lol you just gotta ask!

and since you did - 

(What to expect - incest, NSFW, unsafe sex, blowjobs, consensual sex, toys)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Tamaki?”

Your brother came around the corner, backpack still slung on his shoulder. Socked feet padded towards you on the couch, the ravenette shrugging his backpack off and gently setting it on the floor by the couch, before joining you as you sat on the plush cushions.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked, setting your textbooks on the coffee table in front of you before leaning against your older brother, rubbing his arm a little bit.

Both of you were in college, taking classes, working on the weekends to pay for the tiny little apartment you shared. 

Tamaki looked tired, eyes downcast, soft frown on his lips, shoulders slumped. he was a shy man, but he didn’t usually look so..... defeated when he normally returned home after class.

“Mm.” The man hummed, sinking against you, melting into your touch.

“You look tired ‘Maki.”

He hummed again, closing his eyes as he brought his feet up, curling them underneath him as he pressed against you. The soft sweater he was wearing brushed against your bare arms, a little bit of your exposed thigh.

You weren’t shy about what you wore around the house, but for your brother’s sanity, you tried to keep somewhat covered, foregoing sports bras and wearing tank tops instead, ditching booty shorts for slightly longer (but not by much) shorts that covered you more fully.

Wearing less clothing meant Tamaki was clumsier, fumbling with the remote, bumping against things while he walked, bright red flush coloring his cheeks and melting to his collarbones, all because his eyes were glued to you.

Plus, it meant the man struggled with constant erections. He tried to hide it, embarrassed at his body no matter how many times you’d told him you adored it.

Your brother was shy, too shy to come to you and initiate, to find relief where you so gladly offered it.

That just means you had to get real good at noticing when he needed to relax a little.

You pushed Tamaki upright, ignoring his cute whine as you slid off the couch to kneel in front of him, dancing your fingers along his jean-clad thighs.

“Tell me how your day went.”

Your hands gently pushed his thighs open, watching your brother’s lips part with a gasp as you handled him. His head fell back against the couch, dark hair falling away from his eyes.

He was so pretty.

“Uhm, it was nice.”

“Mmhm.” You unzipped his jeans, slowly peeling the fabric down, your brother lifting his hips to help you out, his hands clutching at his soft sweater.

Boxers came next, Tamaki gazing down at you with red cheeks as you slipped them off his legs.

“Well, I-I woke up on time this morning, and I made it to class before the professor.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Praise easily tumbled from your lips as you wrapped a loose hand around Tamaki’s pretty pink cock, squeezing the shaft gently.

“Bio and psych went well, I got my test scores for my language class, and-and I got a B+.” His breath hitched as you took your hands off his cock, bringing a palm up to your mouth so you could wet it with your tongue, get it nice and slick for when you touched him again.

“I-I ate lunch with Mirio... and then I had math...” HIs voice was getting quieter, mumbling.

Math was never his strong suit, and you know it was one of his most-hated classes. Luckily, it was just once a week, on Tuesdays.

“How’d that go?” Your hands were on his cock again, wet with your spit, twisting around his length slowly as you moved them up and down.

“Uh, it-it went alright. I-I just ha-hate math.” Tamaki whimpered, his hips bucking up a little as you squeezed his tip, watching precum bead before bubbling over.

“Mm, well, maybe you can tell me some of the concepts? I might be able to help you out with homework.”

Tamaki couldn’t even nod, nor thank you for your offer before you were slurping his cock into your mouth. The man cried out, soft voice rising in pitch as you swallowed around him.

You fluttered your eyelashes up at him, but that didn’t get his attention, so you resorted to a gentle tap to his thigh to remind him to keep talking.

“Oh, oh, uhm... There’s..... ah...s-statistics. We-we’re learning how to.... how to display, and de-scrIBE-oh!” He lurched upwards, fingers flying to your hair as you used your tongue to play with the opening at the top. You could feel his little sweater paws as Tamaki gently fisted your hair.

Another gentle tap to his thigh.

“There’s also-also.... ohhh, uhm-ah! There’s.... prob-probablity, and I don’t.... unhh, unh-don’t get it at-at all...” His sentence ended on a breathy whine as you began bobbing your head. His voice was so cute, so pretty just like the rest of him, smooth and sweet.

“Oh, (Y/N), yes, yes! Can I-can I cum? Please?”

It had only been a few minutes, but Tamaki was close to the edge, slim thighs tensing behind your head as you considered his request.

You popped off his length, licking your lips and ignoring his pleading whine.

“Of course baby boy, always-” A soft kiss was laid against his thigh, and Tamaki threw his head back, thin chest heaving underneath his cute sweater, his face bright red.

He got overwhelmed at the littlest things.

Once his cock was back in your mouth, it took a tiny bit of work to bring him to the edge, bobbing your head, swirling your tongue, hollowing your cheeks and really sucking.

Those pretty moans echoed throughout the tiny apartment, filling up the space, filling your ears, making you want to smile. He was a sweet man, and you were glad to be so close to him.

A moment more and he was cumming, hot seed dripping down your throat, his fingers twisted in your hair, balls drawn up and pulsing against your chin.

-----

“Tamaki, you already got to cum and I didn’t.” You pouted, sitting on your bed.

You had helped your younger brother wash-up, licking his spent cock clean before tucking him back into your pants. Climbing up into his lap to boop his nose and whisper an “I love you” into his ear, grinding against his thigh in the process.

He had gotten his release, and now you were hungry for your own.

“Don’t be greedy-” Your fingers plunge into your cunt over and over, palm grinding against your clit as you stretch yourself out, watching Tamaki through hooded eyes as he sits obediently at the foot of your bed.

“Please, I-I just wanna t-touch myself a l-little?” His hands are pinching at his bare thighs, desperate to fist themselves around his dripping cock. You’d told him to be good and stay still and watch as you got yourself ready, and he had been.

Tamaki was just needy.

“Okay, but just a little, okay? No cumming.”

“Thank you, oh, thank you-” The man breathes, hands flying to wrap around his cock, his eyes fluttering shut as his hips bucked up a little towards the pressure.

You giggle a little at how cute he is, those big indigo eyes focusing back onto you again, dropping to your wet fingers as you eagerly fuck yourself on them.

But it’s not enough, and you want more.

A quick search through your bedside drawer and you find your vibrator, quickly flicking it on, watching Tamaki gulp as you bring it against your cunt. You sigh as it makes contact, the buzzy, rumbly sensation traveling through your thighs as you easily grind your hips forward against the wand.

“Mmh, I’ve been thinking... ooo, that feels so nice.” You moan, placing a hand behind you so you can steady yourself as you begin to hump against your vibrator. “I’ve been thinking though, that I should get you some-oh-get you some toys.”

Tamaki whimpers, high and pitched, and you smile when his cock visibly throbs. The man has to clench a fist around the base, squeezing hard to stop himself from humming.

“You like that idea? Yeah?”

He nodded, hair bobbing as his head moved enthusiastically.

“You’d look so pretty with a cock ring, mm, you would. And-oh, I could get one that vibrates, and it’ll feel like heaven when you fuck me.”

Your pussy was gushing, throbbing against the wand. You didn’t want to cum too soon, so you flicked it off, before crawling towards your brother.

“We could get you a nice little plug, maybe one that vibrates? And you could keep it in allllll day. You could go to class with it, and jerk yourself off in the bathrooms. I’d love if you sent me a video of you moaning my name as you cum into the toilet.”

The man whined again, his hips bucking up.

You giggled, rising to your knees so you could straddle the man, a hand finding his hard cock beneath you, lining it up to your dripping cunt.

“Would you like that ‘Maki?”

“Yes, yes-oh s-so much, please, that sounds-gUH!” His words choked off into a pathetic moan as you sank down on his length, and you sigh at the feeling of fullness.

Tamaki presses a hand over his mouth, embarrassed by the needy moans that he’s unable to suppress, hips bucking up against your warmth, trying to seat himself deeper.

“Don’t cover your mouth, I wanna hear you. You feel so good inside me.” You coo, using your thighs to bounce a little on his cock.

His hand falls to the side, and you lean forward to kiss him, letting your tongue play with his, slick, wet sounds filling the room.

And then you tell him to fuck you.

The man doesn’t hold back, greedy, slender hands fixing themselves around your waist as his hips work, pushing himself inside your cunt again and again and again.

Both of you are breathing heavily, and it feels so good, the way he fucks you.

“Oh fuck, keep going, ‘m almost there!” You pant, reaching a hand down to play with your clit, four fingers rubbing across the little nub as you climb higher and higher.

And when you cum, it’s with a full-body shudder, a cry tumbling from your lips as you slam your hips against your brothers.

Tamaki tumbles over the edge soon after, barely managing to pull free from your slick cunt before his cock is bursting with cum, painting the soft skin of your tummy with his release.

You rest against him, laying your head on his shoulder as you pant onto his skin, satisfied and warm.

When you gather your bearings, you shuffle off his lap, searching through the covers to wind the wand you’d previously dropped.

“You’re such a good boy ‘Maki, but I wanted you to cum inside-” You were pouting again as you held up the vibrator, waving it in the air.

Tamaki looked like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes wide. “W-what?”

“I’m gonna play with you a bit until you get hard again, and then I’m going to put your tip inside me-just the tip- and you’re going to cum while I use the vibrator on you, got it?”

The man shivers in anticipation, and you smile.

You love each other so much.

[muffindaddystyles]

KISMETS (Part 2)

Harry Styles x fem!reader.

Slow burn, platonic love and bunch of affection.

Fluff! Smut! Smut!

Frenemies to lovers, dad!Harry, Bestfriend!Harry.

Author's Note: The concept's kinda weird but if you've watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Phoebe Buffay carrying child for someone. You've got it my pal!

MASTERLIST PART ONE PART 3

"Oh pet . . you're jealous innit?" He swipes the tip of his finger over the waffle picking the puff of cream and swallowing it whole, "'M not! Why'd I be?" She squeals kicking at his boots.

"Always told me y'had a candy crush at Harold." He smirks mischievously. Spitting truth. She smacks his bicep with a wide open mouth.

Or

Y/N's carrying Harry's babies and is trying not be angry at him for pulling her into all of this with him.

//

Red's everywhere. It makes her pout. Everyone have someone to celebrate the day but she's the only one giving careless ears to Niall who's sitting opposite from her in the crispy lilac heart booth, "Mean ye' fought again with him?" He stirs the mango bobas in his drink wiggling his brows at her to fill him with some tea. She gasps full of drama and surprises, "What d'ya mean 'again? D'ya think 'm this crackhead that rips people in two for no-reason?" She whispers the last part when a waitress passed by them.

"No. Pet what 'm sayin' is --- you're too, feisty with Harry." He chuckles leaning to meet her betrayed gaze, "Did he bribe you with new golf stick? You've switched sides." She juts her bottom lip wet from pink marmalade drink and startles in her spot when Niall cackled ever so loud at her silliness.

"I just tol' him to go through Chessie marathon somewhere else than my home." Harry was at her flat as always. She was making red velvet strawberry flavoured muffins for the moment ( promised not to give it to Harry — "even if he'll beg") and then she fulfilled her promise when she saw him going through his pictures together with Chessie. The jealous little Y/N jumped out from her polite skin and she just tinsy bit mocked him, "I'd never look back at the person who'd have left me and my children. . ." That broke a mighty bit argument between the two idiots. How they're gonna take care of two babies when they themselves need a person to put them away from eachother?

"Oh pet . . you're jealous innit?" He swipes the tip of his finger over the waffle picking the puff of cream and swallowing it whole, "'M not! Why'd I be?" She squeals kicking at his boots.

"Always told me y'had a candy crush at Harold." He smirks mischievously. Spitting truth. She smacks his bicep with a wide open mouth. Sighing he grabs Y/N's hand knocking some sense into mama bear gently and making her nod with the each advice, "'s valentine's day 'course he misses her. His wounds are fresh they need ointment babe -- You've always been so good with him, what's the matter now?"

She circles her fingers round eachother. Sucking her lip harshly and not meeting Niall's intense stare, "Turns me mad that 'cos of one person we're here now." She mumbles caressing the belly button protruding from the flimsy fabric of her oversized hoodie.

"It's the fate, pet. Always tol' me how much you liked kids." She shakes her head in denial. "Not in this situation where 'm lost and doesn't know how it'll work out — " He cuts her off with concern.

"Talked to Harry bout it?" When she again denies he asks, "What you're gonna do about it then?"

"Dunno. Share?" She's new to all of this. What did she actually mean was that they could do it like how divorce parents do it, maybe? Doesn't know how Harry wants to handle the situation just leading a blind eye with him. Hasn't even considered getting ready for the life that'll come along with them.

"They're babies not a packet of crisps, Y/N!." He burst into giggles and she huffs slumping against the foggy window, "Pain in arse you're." She scoffs that pout still intact the whole time while Niall keeps on giggling finding it too funny.

. . .

Walking from the elevator to her flat's door seems like hiking a mountain for her and cherry ontop that the stares she gets from her neighbours is full of judgments. It makes her want to hide underneath her blankets and never pop her head out. Her brows coming together in wonder at the sight of small wood basket at her doorsteps.

"Oh my god don't tell me someone left a baby at my doorsteps, Hello!!!??" She spins here and there but finds no-one but empty hallways when a feeble sound coming from inside it almost made her tumble on her bum. The last thing she wants is not another baby. With a grunty noise she ducks down to lift the basket supporting it at her belly and unlocking the door while trying to squint inside it.

When she throws the lid away a fuzzy little grey creature with big mossy eyes was pawing in air needy for attention, a red choker with heart in centre around her lil neck. It almost brought her to tears. Blame her being extremely emotional these days.

"Awww. Hi!" She fawns picking it up from armpits inspecting the miracle kitten that's here outta no where. A crumpled note laying in the basket with a bunch of colourful disoriented flowers.

"'M sorry fo' throwin' a tantrum and leavin' all fussy. This's oreo. I want her to grow along my kids! Also forgive mee plssssss?"

She giggles throwing her head back snuggling oreo against her throat as she meowed adorably sweet, "Daddy's such a daft ehh?" She says in between breaths petting the new addition to her loved ones.

The first thing she does is call him and he picks on the very ring as if anticipating for it, "Come back home you fool." His smile was infectious as he taps his feet in his car a lil over joyed at the thought.

"So generous." Running upstairs as he used to in oast with anticipation to spill the tea of his day to her in any hour of the day. The door was already open, them standing at the either boundary line of flat. His first priority's always to shower his babies in evermost affection. Falls to his knees smushing his face to her belly quenching outta a ribs aching laugh from her as he caress his cheeks against the soft side of her womb murmuring things that's a secret between him and his babies.

"Hey Angels!" He greets them patching a loving tight kiss atop her belly button that tickles her softly, stands up and meets her teary gaze from laughing with much serenity it knocks breath from her, "Hi mama angel." His whisper fuses against her skin while kissing her cheek.

"Hi. ." She inhales in his woodish vanilla scent. Preventing from melting into his arms she pulls him back from shoulders grinning at him, "Let's ruin valentines watchin' Anne Hathaway's romcom." He tuts instead leading her with him to the sofa.

"Can't be better than that –— let me pop in some popcorns real quick."

. . .

The yellow carpeted floor's littered with candy wrappers, packets of half folded crisps, peach sodas and an empty bowl of popcorns. Oreo snoozing in her basket. They're on their fourth romcom. Her legs in his lap. His's on coffee table. He chuckles everytime she takes almost three minutes to be in a comfortable position, ushering her to sit up so he could put cushions under her.

"Are you craving nama chocolates?" She eyes him nipping at her blanket trying to snuggle closer to him. He runs his thumb at her shoulder blade in soothing circles peering down at her, "'m not pregnant. ye're moppet. havin' a sweet tooth?" When she nods sheepishly he shakes his head quickly hoping on his feet.

"Don't be shy --- dunno where ye' got this giddiness from, 'm your bestie. Gotta tell me yeah? Lemme grab me jacket." He grabs her from wrists helping her up and goes to her wardrobe to get her fist gloves, beanie and warm slippers.

When hears her huffing and puffing grunty-ly his head perks up with brows furrowed, "What's it babe?" He pads towards her and when she turns for him to have a look the zip of her jacket bursts open all the way to end revealing her bump.

She pouts sadly, "Nothin' fits me anymore." He just smiles adorning the same puppy look in his eyes as her's to light up the tension.

"I'll buy ye' new. Those cute maternity clothes, ehh?" Shimmies down the clothing from her shoulders, "oi you don't have to!" She retorts and he bobs his head taking his own puffer jacket off to wrap it round her small body.

"Yes I do." He mumbles zipping her all the way up warm and squishy in his jacket three sizes larger than her. Pulls her hair out and cups the nape of her neck with his calloused soft palm bringing her closer to feather a delicate kiss to her temple, ". . .deserves more than just clothes — deserves the world always gonna be thankful to ye, pet." She gulps the cobweb of silence down her throat fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

"What you'll wear? 'S cold." He gives her an elfin grin flaring a baby pink knitted cardigan he sneaked from her wardrobe, "Harry!" She squeals with a giggle, "You're gonna look like grann Matlinda."

"Ehm. 'etter not forget to send her a picture when 'm matchin' with her." He quips snapping his fingers.

. . .

They walk over the glittery layer of slushie snow and Harry walks infront of her two steps at a time capturing pictures of her as she prowls carefully trying to move the hood away from blocking her vision, "Ye'r walkin' like a penguin -- cutie!" He giggles with each echo of flash.

"Look who's saying an otter himself!" She mimics him and he blushes under the mellowness of street lamp. They're champs at pulling eachother's legs.

"It's soooooo slippery." She complains wiggling her fingers from under the sleeve, "Grab me hand 'n don't leave it kay?" He smiles like advising a three year old who's afraid of crowds in a market. His grip warm and safe for her.

. . .

"Aish. gimme gimme!" She gets all jumpy on her toes when Harry comes out of the shop with a box of chocolates and two sticks. "'Ey greedy pup." He chuckles booping her button nose opening the silky lid of box revealing the velvety delcious chocolates. He picks the stick up taking a piece of chocolate with it and hovering it over her little mouth. Scrunching his nose at how adorable she gets the moment she chews it.

"Hmm. 'S so soft!" She gulps wetting her cold lip getting all butterfly feeling when she catches him gazing down at her as if she hung the moon and saturns. Raises her brow for an inquiry if he's okay tugging him closer with a gentle clutch to his cardigan.

Their surroundings turning into ice crystals of blur carelessness, the noises of glimmering lights into lulls of whisper and their bodies cocooning into snuggly blanket when Harry's fingertips fluttered tenderly against her cheeks glueing her at the spot. Leans in to press his lips softly to her plush sweet ones in a heartwarming caring kiss that flooded her veins with warmth and made her brain mushy unable to think.

"Yours are softer lil penguin." He murmurs stroking the corner of her mouth and smirks when she squeaks a thank you in return.

"Such a cutie." He cooes squishing her blushed cheeks and kissing each of them with loud wet noise till she pushed him away wiping his wetness with a pout. "'M highly offended pet ya never used to wipe me kisses away."

She shuts him up by stuffing a chocolate in his mouth. Walking back home with his arms wrapped around her protectively as he comes up with silly jokes whole way.

. . .

Everything reminds her of him. That fuzz of kitten. The empty box of chocolate. Couldn't even focus on the work she's doing on her laptop. It's just that gooey feeling never left ---- now it has gotten stronger with it's mushk when Harry kissed her under that beautiful sky of wintery lilacs. If he's playing with her feelings he better not cause she'll break him in two in that case.

He was out shopping clothes for her when she texted him if he'll like to eat roasted chicken she made for lunch. The mere thought of him caring for her brings her to tears because before him nobody was there except only him that knew her from the depths of her heart.

"You look pretty. . ." She finds typing hard while laughing this loud as Harry sent her mirror pictures of him trying the maternity clothes himself that he's supposed to buy for her, "Thought a visual representation will be good idea ;)" He shrugs typing back with a grin standing bottom naked in the changing room getting a rolling eye emoji in return.

She yawns putting her phone aside when Harry got busy into his hunt for nice warm clothes for her. Something wasn't fine today. She's been changing sides for an hour now and she couldn't sleep. Her shoulders twitching with each blink of eye and when she finally slips into a light conscious sleep a bone rattling pain shoots through her whole damn body. She jolts from the state of haze and tries to sit up when another zap of pain makes her feel limbless. A feeble grunt of helping cry fizzes out of her when she feels a cramp at the bottom of her spine.

In her panicked state she fumbles for her phone dialing the first emergency number doesn't give him a chance to speak before she's yelling into receiver out of anxiousness, "Harry somethin' not right! — 'm m havin' these contractions —--" He's been out dining with Niall and shoots from his seat the minute her worried voice reached his ear.

"It's okay, lovie. yeah? 'M comin' take deep breaths how we practiced —-- I'll be there in a mo'." He assures her in his softest most pacific rasp but she shakes her head vigorously tears brimming in her sleepy eyes. Oreo tries to comfort her by sitting in her lap and rubbing her crown against her tummy.

"They aren't supposed to come this early . . . fo' fucks sake haven't even started my third trimester!" Harry doesn't know what to do except of consoling her and fidgeting around as Niall drives the car with same expressions of anxiousness and panic as Harry.

"Oh . . It's gone." She frowns in confusion able to sit now and it takes a little of burden away from Harry. He listens to the rustling going on her side jumping on his bum almost screaming into phone, "Stay where you're don' move!"

"Oh my god. They're back I'm not ready for this . . I'm not ready for this Harry." She cries and Harry even leaves Niall behind squeezing into the elevator fingers crossed at his back.

"'M here. Call our midwife can ye' do that fo' me, puppy?" She sniffs nodding to herself. Calling their assisted midwife with shaky fingers and tries to breath looking up at the ceiling.

In the meantime Harry's barging through the door pacing towards her in hurries steps. His face pale that if he has seen a ghost. She tries to saturate the distance between them knowing at this moment how much she wants him in her life.

He sits her back carefully crouches down and wipes her tears away, "'m so scared . ." She whispers squeezing his biceps and her phone's still ringing atop the sheets, "Don't be baby. Ye' have me — 'm not leavin' yer side."

He massages the dimples of her spine and runs warm hands at her sides to calm her down when their midwife picks up their call, "Hi. Is everything okay?"

"No Y/N's havin' these light contractions 'n 's not even the time of her labour." There's a pause from her side and Y/N bolts a worried glance at Harry in return he cradles her cheek to assure her.

"Oh . . that's nothin' to worry bout Mr. Styles. Those're some mild braxton hicks she might have mistaken with labour contractions." They both takes a sigh of relief but the little tick of pain keeps on coming and subsiding.

"They start at the beginning of third trimester, Y/N are you still getting 'em?" She asks her and Y/N clears her throat tugging the sheet beside her.

"Yes but less painful. Is that okay though?"

"Completely okay. Harry rest her against the headboard and push her knees upto her chest they'll be gone in a snap." He nods at her instructions helping Y/N lean against the headboard of bed gently and scooting between her thighs to do as she told.

"Better?" He whispers glancing up at her while wrapping his hands around her bended calves and pushing it slowly against her front, the move relaxing her pelvic muscles. Her head lulls at her shoulders from the effect and she hums from throat making Harry choke on his own spit.

He dares not to drift his gaze from her rigid features which are loosing it's tightness seconds after. Their breaths erratic from the humidity of sexual tension in the room when Y/N gets back to normal diverting her all attention to Harry who has his head tucked between her fleshy thighs. A blush creeping at her flushed cheeks and Harry gives her a flustered chuckle kissing the top of her knee to answer back Miss. Dori who's been asking how's Y/N.

"Stay hydrated and don't forget to take your vitamins." Saying this she ends the call. Y/N takes a huge sigh of relief spreading her legs back and Harry squeezes her ankles, "When was the last time you had a glass water?"

"Two hours ago." He rolls his eyes. "Supposed to be drinkin' every hour . . dehydration's s' unhealthy fo' you pet." He leaves the bed meandering through her wardrobe taking out a bag with Oreo in his armpit.

"What're you doing?" She gasps with wide eyes looking back at Niall who's still standing at the doorframe. God. It's so embarrassing he had to watch all of that. Now, he'll never not stop teasing her about it.

"Packin' 'cos ye're stayin' with me. No protests." Like she was going to. She loves to stay at his house. His guest room's mattress is such a royalty to sleep at.

. . .

When he tucks her under the layers of blanket she decides it's still not warm enough and grabs at his wrist when he was about to leave, "Can we cuddle please?" His lips quirks up with happiness and he crawls to the empty side of bed still letting her hold onto him. Slipping beside her to canoodle her cosily against his front nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck with "mhmpm." sounds of exhaustion.

"Anytime." Her eyelids slip shutting from the comfort he brings along with him, "ye' okay now?" His lips leaves it's sparkle at her skin as he mumbles spooning her from behind and spreads his palm wide atop her belly protectively. She nods cuddling into his bicep kissing the inside of his elbow and slips into darkness just with the song of his breath.

"Good night Angel."

. . .

She wakes up to the ruckus going outside and gurgling stomach from hunger. Pinches the blanket around her head and waddles outside yawning her way. Harry making brekkie in the kitchen, a grinder running, and waffles sizzling as he himself is moving around like Remy the Rat in ratatouille. His muscles stretching out with each haste motion and it made her tummy stir. She's been trying not be horny but it proves to be the hardest task when he's always around being that charming and alluring.

"Pet!" He grins spinning with a VR camera in his hand that makes her giggle, "What you're doing?" She giggles trying to hike up the stool.

"Recording the days with our babies until it's labour." Immediately he's at her side helping her sit up putting the camera at the counter and Y/N waves at it adorably voice low and sleepy, "Hi babies it's me your mommy." It catches Harry off guard. His heart shaped mouth baubles into awed expression as he blinks the shock away from his vision looking down at her.

"What happened?" She asks him in concern but he shakes his head pecking her hair and handing her the camera to go back to prepare brekkie — moreso to recover from the happy surprise of her acceptance or he might scream into these four walls.

He's got a heart of gold. Pure from the selfish intentions and full of love. He thinks he's an utter dimwit for neglecting his feelings for his own fucking bestfriend and finding love into places that were never meant for him. Now, he can't think of someone else as the mother of his children except her.

He smiles wet-ly to himself. Waterline stinging from the sweet epiphany that they're really gonna be parents. Together. That she's his person. Who never left his side. Fulfilled his dream of becoming of a dad when his own girlfriend backed out cowardly. What did he do to get her written in his fate?

"Would we get to eat in this hour of day Chef?" She quips elbow perched on the counter and chin resting in her palm. We. It makes his insides melt into squish of adoration and love for her, "Sorry! I know ye're hungry." He pouts apologetically putting the plates and a glass of smoothie infront of her tucking a napkin into her crew neck.

"I don't need that, pet!!" She laughs squeezing his thigh to refrain from falling -- for the fact she's the most clumsy person Harry knows, "look cute 's just all." He giggles back pulling his bottom lip that she has done a great job of flustering him this early in the morning — gonna be like that the whole darn day with the her words swimming in his mind hi babies it's me your mommy ——

"Hmm. It's so yummy!" She gives him a thumbs up leaning down to sponge a kiss to his cheek and his dimple milks against her lips from the shyness. He scrunches his nose as a cover up from blushieness else he might burst into lil confetti, "yeah?" His irirses twinkles impishly as he gave her an eskimo kiss.

They're so domestically in love. It's cute. Does thingies without knowing they've rocketed past the intense levels of intimacy.

When she whines at the end refusing to drink the green smoothie it's where he went all stern and daddy-ish with her. Pulling her into his lap, holding her wrists with his nimble finger and placing the rim of the glass at her lips encouraging her to drink, "I might puke." She tells him in a warning.

"Okay after drinking this." He declares not caring if she wrenches at him quiping with a pinch of brows petting her back.

"You're sucha meanie bro!" Bestfriend shit. More like lovers shit.

. . .

Blank staring is useless as fuck and mind tiring even if it's done sitting in the comfiest corner of sofa to get a watch of some piece of furniture, toys and clothes that litreally just belongs to little humans that are resting in her womb. There's this nice lady that Harry gave away all of this things to because she's having her third child and couldn't be able to afford this stuff for her baby, at the moment she's here to shift it.

"You don't have to --- I don't care. It's just some stuff you guys bought together." She had told him before he sat on the decision and once he makes up his mind nobody can make him act otherwise.

"Nope. Bought things fo' me babies by the choice of a person who wasn't even their mother in the first place, never deserved to be —-- would never be. We'll do everything from scratch . . ." His words held venom and hatred for her unlike the usual sadness and betrayal they carried weeks ago as he wrapped his forearm around her collarbones flushing her closer to his chest swaying in the living lounge, ". . . remember the plushies nan Matlinda gave ye' on ya eighteenth? Thinking it was yer thirteenth birthday? Found them from under me bed last night. Will throw 'em in the laundry and the descion will be on yours if ye' want them fo' yourself or your babies." She nods giggling and he joins her.

"'Course that'd be s' cute. My kids playin' with plushies that were once mine!" She clapped her hands atop her chest in sheer excitement.

At the moment, he flops onto sofa beside her with a dramatic huff after bidding the lady a warm good bye. Squeezing Y/N ankles as she's laying on her side. A pillow under her thigh for the ease purpose head on the other cushion, "Watching's the hardest work innit toots?" He grins impishly and she bobs her head with hooded eyes.

Rolling her shoulder to pop some joints to show her tiredness she's good at acting made him scoot closer to her immediately, "Actually yes — " Gets cut off with Harry getting really caring about her in instant.

"Lemme give ya good rub." His calloused palms starts it gentle pressure from the heels of her feet tricking up her calves and she hums sweetly with her face smushed into cushion. He does it for a minute, thumbing at her soles and popping her toes making her giggle lazily.

Her breaths turns warmer against the fabric when he glides his touch up her soft thighs running a trembling shiver into her blood and the coaxation from the daily tiredness plus the effect of him on her almost made her whine. Their breaths hitches at the same time his pinky brushes at the curve of her bossom peeking from underneath her pyjama shorts.

It makes her clench her thighs from the burn coiling in her tummy and it's embarrassing because he's doing nothing but giving her a rub. When the second time the pads of his supple fingers paints imaginaries at her skin she wiggles her cute ass and moans with an alluring stretch of throat when Harry slapped her arse playfully.

"'S good?" He rasps palming balmily her bossom ass hands gliding dangerously low to where she's pulsating with desire, "don't tease . ." She gives out a kitten-ish whine griping the corner of cushion to exhert the tension in her muscles. With a single glance to her deshilved state he slides his hand between her fleshy thighs pressing his lanky fingers against the wet splotch of her arousal from the only approximty of him.

"Jeez pet. ye'r absolute soakin'." He whispers circling her clit in tight circles from over her pyjamas and she ruts her hips in his hand for more. He hovers his fingers round the hem of her shorts testing the waters and if she really wants it ---- although she proves it with a groan indicating him to get rid of the material.

"Such a pretty bum 's a shame I got to touch it now." He traces the imprint of his redness on her skin making her hiss into her elbow and he pulls her over his lap; slowly feathering his touch between her pink slick folds down to her hole making her clinch around his digits trying to swallow them.

"S' tight babe. How long someone's been between these beautiful legs?" His words don't carry any taunt. It's just a genuine question. She gulps trying to escape the haze — couldn't when he's gliding his fingers non-stop in her wetness with dirty noises, "dunno . . don't remember!" She squeaks when he slides them inside her with ease from slickness caging a grunty moan that's threatening to slip from his lungs.

"It's been that long then . . ." He drawls out and Y/N's shook that she hasn't heard him in that tone ever before or maybe she's too floaty. This Harry intimidates her in a sweet way, makes her want to be blanketed under his warm weight always, to depend on him and be with him always. Makes her want to kiss him till the colours fade out and blossom back again with the witnesses of their love.

"Harry . ." She moans fogy-ly when he adds two more letting her stickiness drip down his thighs, "Yes baby." He giggles bashfully sneaking his arm under her shoulders to kiss her cheek.

"Gonna cum." She cries out softly nipping at his skin and he pushes his fingers deep till knuckles in her cunt pounding inside her with a pleasuring pressure, "Didn't stop ya." His little bubble kisses trails to the crook of her neck biting down to glitter hues of his affection for her.

"Oh my!" Her eyes popshut and thighs smack crampies his hand cumming on his fingers. Making a mess down his wrists, his trousers and the hem of his shirt. She purrs cheeks smashed near his thick thigh into velvet when he rubs her back to soothe her heated body down as that of a kitten, "Ye purrs are puttin' oreo to shame, moppet." He pushes her up. Straddling her each leg around his torso letting her melt onto him.

"S' warm." He mumbles against her throat pecking where the paths of her veins leads him to. Grabs her chin and nuzzles his nose to the underbelly of her jaw saturating her closer to his chest. She hiccups a breath when his swelling bulge nudges her already sensitive pussy making her wet again; she blames her hormones.

"Can you fuck me, please?" She gives him pleading eyes swiveling her hips back and forth against his thick length, "Don't 've to ask pretty girl." He kisses her mouth. It's not like their first kiss. Their first held innocence and sccachirness. This one's rather filthy, full of sucking, bites and spit. He splits his thumb in her hair cupping her cheeks kissing her passionately and winding his arm around her waist to caress her belly.

When she throws her shirt away he puffs out unbelievably taking in her to memorize each velvteen of her skin, "Fuck you're so beautiful moppet." It splashes blush at her features and his eyes litreally twinkles at the sight of her being like this. When his eyes halt at the swell of her titts he exhales through his nostrils a grin worming up at the little rainbow patterned bra she's wearing.

"Cutie." He kisses her again. It's like he can never stop kissing her ever. Her plump candy lips make it impossible. She skids his trousers down wrapping her hand around his girth squeezing him to quench out a throaty grunt from him. Stroking his cock with his pre-come and arches her back when his weepy head brushes against her cunt.

He helps her to take his cock being ever so carefull with her since she's pregnant but Y/N wants otherwise. She's insatiable. Could bite him whole at the time.

"Use me baby ---- make yourself cum with my cock. Wanted it yeah? C'mon now fuck me pretty girl. Take it all in. Yeah . . . Jus' like that." He grits stretching her to max and brings her neck to snuggle in to his chest when she was about to fall back because of her limbs giving out due to the ecastasy. She spurts out a giggle putting her hands between them to recoup herself and moves with his assistance on her ass.

"It's hard." She whines walls fluttering around his dick making him moan, "what me prick?" He smirks batting his eyelashes to get through the haze.

"Such a rotten joke." She rolls her eyes riding him with faster pace now and it's turning them all sweaty and hot, "mhmp. good girl takin' me cock s' well." His hands wanders above her tummy fondling with her nipples and takes it in his mouth while giving the same attention to other one with his thumb pulling it and tweaking it gently not to harm her, "don't like my jokes but you love my prick --- want to make ye' feel amazin' with it."

His balls thwacking against her bum and she leverages herself with his shoulders crying out in his ear when he hit a spot inside her she could never with her own fingers — she narrows her knees for more closeness and he tucks loose errands of her hair away kissing her temple with closed eyes.

"Tired?" His wet lips teases her earlobe and when she nods he gropes her ass thrusting up inside her, "It feels more good when daddy does it . . doesn't it?" He pounds roughly with a sharp angle of his pelvis and keeps on fucking her till she's crying his name.

She's a puddling. His words only made her float into her own head space where it's golden streaks in the amidst of violet clouds.

His own groans getting hoarse when she pulses around his cock milking and pushing his head fat out it makes him choke onto his spit, "cum for me --- inside me want it s' bad." She whispers woving fingers with his's and pressing it into sofa still grinding down at him whole body jolting from the sensitivity.

He does cum inside her. Filling her to brim with his seed it oozes out making soppy sounds when he pumps it back with lazy strokes to extinguish the last sparkle of fire that was crackling in their insides.

Remains like that. Tangled and dishelved. Listening to eachother's silence. He didn't even got a chance to pull out of her when his phone startled them beside her making her cramp hard around him and his head falls on the headboard with a grunt.

"Fuck." He squints back and pretends to eat the apple of her cheeks with roar like noises tickling her side making her stomach squeeze with laughs when his phone rings for another time and she ushers him to pick it.

His expressions remains stoic. Lips thinned into a hardline as he listens to the person on the other side. She's familiar with it. The feminine seductive voice she can never unhear --- it pangs her heart with an unbearable amount of pain and clogs her windpipes.

Dunno from where she found the need to ask this she did with a second thought from the anxiousness whirling in her mind the second he ends the call, "Are you gonna leave me now?" Tears of hurt without her knowing are already spilling down the valley of her chest.

Harry stares her. But, she could see nothing in them due to blurness from the pulversive of a single call.

[strabbyshortcake]

the truth about snaktooth

Gramble finally tells his partners what befell him and everybody else on the island.

“Whatcha doin’, Gram?”

The screen door clatters as it shuts behind Boots. It’s a nice summer night, one of the rare ones they got with little humidity, so Gramble had left the main door open, the sound of katydids and crickets drifting through from the outdoors. He looks up from the hand towel in his paws, shoulders hunched guiltily.

There’s a large cardboard box sitting on the floor, full of bits of kitchen décor. Ceramic plates with fruit stenciled on them, prints of vintage ads for bread and desserts, towels with produce embroidered on them. All the kitschy things Boots knew he liked decorating his spaces with, and Gramble spent more time in the kitchen than either her or Piesha, with how much he enjoyed cooking.

“Oh, evenin’ Boots,” he greets her, expression softening into a smile. “You remember we talked about Lizbert and Egg visitin?”

“Yeah…?” She pads over, frowning a little at the bare spots on the walls and shelves. Boots was acquainted with the two from attending expedition reunions with Gramble, and while she made it no mystery that she disliked Lizbert’s invasive style of exploration, it was all in the past. Liz had retired from that life after the whole Snaktooth stunt to become a museum curator. “What’s the matter, they allergic to tackiness?”

Gramble laughs at her affectionate teasing. “No, well… Actually, funny you should say that. Egg’s fine, but Liz has got… I guess you could say she’s got kind of a hang-up over food imagery. And while she’s doin’ well these days, might just make her a lil’ more comfortable to not feel so surrounded, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you.” Boots nods, reaching up to take the clock off the wall. It’s a piece of painted wood in the shape of a strawberry. Nollie had made it in an art class. “Place is a little dusty, anyway.”

Together he and Boots work to mostly strip the place of any food-related decoration, leaving only a couple little accents up so the place didn’t seem too bare. Gramble sighs at the empty walls, leaning into Boots’ touch as she places a paw on his shoulder.

She and Pie had always been so understanding when he told them he couldn’t talk about what had happened on the island, but he hated to keep his loved ones in the dark. Not simply for the fact that there might still be danger lurking out there, but that he knew he could trust them, and yet, just telling them what had happened was almost as terrifying as the thought of being back there. The idea that just speaking of it would somehow make it manifest, bring it back into his life when he’d worked so hard to escape it, haunted him, but so did keeping it bottled up inside.

“…I need to tell you both what really happened,” he says quietly. “It’s been long enough. Just, after Liz and Egg are gone. Then we’ll talk about it.”

Boots blinks down at him in surprise. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

--

The visit went well. This was the first time Lizbert and Eggabell had seen the new house and the refurbished barn, the first they’d met Cardi and Dember, and Nollie had only been a year old when they’d last come around. They’d caught up, shared stories, enjoyed Gramble’s cooking and chatted about where their lives were going and where they’d been.

After they’d waved goodbye, gotten in Eggabell’s car and driven off to see Wambus and Triffany, after the dishes had been cleared and cleaned and the kids were all in bed, Gramble sat Boots and Piesha down on the porch swing in the back while he took the rocking chair.

“I need to tell you,” he says, fidgeting with his paws where they rested on his chest. “about what happened on Snaktooth.”

“Alright.” Pie nods slowly, leaning into Boots’ cushy side. Boots gives him an encouraging smile, rocking the swing back and forth slightly with her heel.

Gramble swallows, licking his lips. “So… Not all of what I told you was a cover-up. We did run outta food and I did almost starve to death. But… Geez, I dunno where to even start.”

“Why’d you go in the first place?” Boots asks.

“Oh, that I didn’t lie about either. My mama really did up and leave while I was at college. I went cuz… Cuz I guess I felt like I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I saw Liz on TV say she was gatherin’ people up for her team and I just… I wanted somewhere to go that wasn’t home.”

She nods solemnly, gesturing for him to go on.

“Well, Snaktooth… Liz said she found somethin’ there. These creatures she was documenting. D’you… Have either of you ever heard of bugsnax?” Gramble nearly whispers the last word, even though it’s just the three of them out here, just the three of them and the crickets and fireflies, the kids sound asleep.

Piesha tilts her head, thoughtful. “Mm… Maybe a long time ago,” Pie says. “One of those things they got lots of fairy tales about. Critters made of food, right?”

“Right.” Gramble nods. “But they’re real. And please- I know how it sounds,” he stammers, even though neither of them looked skeptical. “But I swear. I saw them, I picked them up and held them, I had a whole barn full of them that Liz and Buddy caught for me. I had names for them, and… and everybody said they were the most delicious things they’d ever eaten. B-but there’s a reason for that. Sorry, lemme go back a bit and explain.

“When we got there, we thought we’d be able to farm. That was Wambus’s thing, but no matter what he tried, the crops would wither, or the bugsnax would get in and destroy them. The only thing he could grow was the sauce that grew on the island, and that wasn’t anywhere near enough to live on. Pretty soon we ran outta food, but that wasn’t a problem for most folks. They’d just eat the bugsnax.”

“And I’m guessin’ you didn’t?” Boots asks.

He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t want to. I already didn’t eat meat, and the snax were always so cute and friendly and I couldn’t bear the thought of hurtin’ them. So I just… didn’t. I tried to live off the sauce, and I ate dandelions and weeds, I ate damn near anything that was edible, but it was never enough.”

“That’s awful, Gram.” Boots says, her brows knitted. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“Well, I… I thought about it,” Gramble wraps his arms around himself. “Even though I didn’t have nowhere to return to, I figured it might be better than starving. But it wasn’t too long after that Lizbert up and disappeared. Her and Egg, there was an earthquake and after that they never came back to town. Some folks thought they died, others thought they ran off, but without her nobody was bringin’ in bugsnax to eat and they started to eat mine, so I ran off with the rest of ‘em and that made everybody mad and I really did start to think there was nobody who cared about me but the snax and Wiggle, and… and even she was eatin’ them too, but I let her cuz I didn’t have nobody else... I was so afraid she’d leave me too that I put up with it.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath. “So, um… I guess a couple weeks after that, Buddy finally showed up. We’d been on the island almost a year at that point. They wanted to interview Liz, figure out what happened, and they managed to get all of us back into town within a week or two. I was really doin’ poorly though.” His claws absently scratch at his belly over the scar that the rake had left, concealed beneath his fur but never fully faded.  “Didn’t care much whether I lived or died. Nothin’ I tried worked, and one of the big snax I asked Buddy for nearly killed me. And then…”

Boots holds Pie’s paw between both of hers, stroking it, both of them patiently waiting for him to gather his racing thoughts. It had been so long since he’d even thought about all this, and much of the events were a haze of hunger and pain, he was amazed he could keep the basic timeline coherent.

“Then, one night… When we were all back in town, Filbo decided he wanted to throw a party. That was when everything… That’s when it all fell apart. There was an active volcano on the island, and it erupted. Eggabell suddenly showed up back in town and told us she knew where Liz was, and she and Buddy and Filbo ran off to get her while the rest of us tried to get to safety. B-but… You remember what I said before, about the bugsnax?” He lifts his gaze to the two of them.

Pie nods at him. “Yeah. They taste good, right?”

“They also…” Gramble holds his paws out, curling his fingers into fists. “They change you. Whenever you eat one, your body parts become it. I know it sounds silly, but everybody was walkin’ around with arms and legs made of strawberries and corn and cinnamon rolls and you kinda just… got used to it. I only ever ate one when I was sleepwalkin’, and I don’t even remember what it was like, but everybody else except Shelda ate ‘em all the time. You get used to it and then you start believin’ that they’re the only thing that can make you feel good anymore. Sorta like drugs, but sorta like… Wiggle used to say they inspired her, and Chandlo thought he could get stronger with them, it was whatever you wanted. I guess even I was fallin’ for it, thinkin’ they could replace my family, and I never even had to eat ‘em.

“But that’s the trick. You get dependent, but you don’t realize that… That they’re parasites. And I’m kinda fuzzy on the details, but according to Buddy, Liz was somehow stuck down in the main… meat of the hive,” Gramble brings his paws together, looking down at his intertwined fingers. “And that’s where she’d been all along, down in the darkness with all those food bugs crawlin’ all over her and into her mouth and… that’s why she’s got such a thing about food.”

“Ah…” He can’t blame Boots for looking a little numb, covering her mouth with her paw as Pie stares blankly at him. It was a lot to take in. “Yeah, I guess that’d do it.”

Gramble goes on. “They attacked us not long after Buddy and the others left, tryin’ to force themselves into our mouths, or kill us, either or. I guess they knew the jig was up, then and there. No comin’ back from that. But we all got away, in the end… And that’s what happened.”

He falls silent. The porch swing creaks slightly as Boots lets it come to a stop, letting the singing of the insects fill the air between them for a long moment.

“S’this place still out there…?” Piesha speaks up softly, glancing out into the darkness as if the snax might be watching from the trees.

“Far as I know,” Gramble says, slipping off the chair to walk over and take one of their paws in each of his. “But you gotta promise me you will never, ever go there.” His expression is grim as he peers up at them. “And you’ll never breathe a word to any of the kids about it, or to anybody else. Nobody should ever step foot on that awful place again.”  

“Gram,” Boots squeezes his paw in return, then leans over to scoop him up and pull him into her lap, the swing groaning in complaint as yet another grumpus is piled upon it. “…there’s gotta be somethin’ we can do-”

“No.” Gramble shakes his head, desperation creeping into his voice. “I- I don’t know. Maybe there is somethin’ that someone out there can do, but it can’t be any of us. I don’t want nothin’ to do with it ever again and if word gets out, it’s just gonna be more people goin’ there and that’s exactly what it wants. Please,” he tilts his head up at her, the porch light glimmering in his eyes. “Just leave it alone. It can’t get us here and I want it to stay that way. Promise me.”

When she hesitates, he repeats himself, teeth glinting as his lips peel back. “Promise me, please-”

“I promise.” Boots leans down to kiss him on the nose, wrapping her arm around him as the other draws Pie in closer. “I won’t tell nobody if that’s what you want.”

“That’s all that I want,” he murmurs into her fluffy chest, suddenly very tired despite the mental weight that had lifted. He’d spoken Snaktooth’s name aloud, finally uncorked what he’d kept bottled up for nearly two decades now. He should feel better-prepared, now that they were all on the same page, so why did he still feel like he was only summoning the beast? Perhaps he just needed to sleep, let this new information digest, and they’d face whatever came tomorrow together.

Hundreds of miles away, the island remembers them too.

[the-last-cuddlebender]

Happy FFWF cuddles! 😊 What are the fluffiest things you've ever written, and why do you think they're the fluffiest?

HAPPY FFWF,  MY FRIEND!!!

oh this is incredibly difficult and took me quite a while to think about omg why must you do this to me, peaches?????

Hmmm...the fluffiest and why...

I am a sucker for Kataang taking care of each other, and I think that drives the majority of my fluff. Just the TLC, y’know? And happy crying. Oh gosh, happy crying. I think I’ve only managed to do it once in the readers with I’m Here, the whistle-speak fic that holds my heart on a string, but gosh do I love it when I write something sweet and a lil tear comes to my eye. What I’m writing usually isn’t that good when it happens, but I get so invested that it just comes out. It makes writing worth it to me💕

I really, really, REALLY love the fluff in Eyes of Ash from Aang bonding with the other young master airbenders right after he gets his tattoos. Aang having big brothers is my kryptonite I stg:

One of the bison landed on the cluster of young masters, and he pawed through the lump of bodies until he found the smallest, laughing one. He picked Aang up by his scruff between his teeth and grumpily shuffled away. Curling up, he held the boy in his front paws and looked almost like he was trying to hide his skyrider under his chin. He bared his teeth and growled at the pouting young masters climbing over him like an infestation.

Moonlit Stitches is my favorite fluff-piece that I’ve written, I think. I haven’t been able to duplicate the magic of that fic yet. It’s just the little things about describing how things feel and how things feel that I think make it so fluffy, if that makes sense. It takes the fluffy feel from the outside and puts it inside

Katara curled her hands into his robes and ran her fingers over the thick weave. The material was gentle and delicate as it slid under the pads of her fingers. It was thin but densely woven, and its many stitches made it welcoming to the touch. It was beautiful and vibrant from a distance, and it was reliable and sturdy even after years of abuse.

From afar, it looked untouched, but Katara felt around the dozens of bulging scars in the fabric. She had stitched up every one, and as she tilted her head, inviting him deeper, one of her hands sought out the patchwork of scars on his exposed torso up towards his shoulder. She had stitched up those, too. They were nearly invisible except for the welting bumps that they made under her fingers. They were proof of a thousand near-misses—flirts with what she didn’t like to think about. She had already seen it before. They broke and built him like wooden beams snapped and replaced by steel, like a broken bone fusing thicker than before.

One of his hands slid up her back and down the length of her arm, pulling her hand away from the evidence of bad memories. He kissed each of her knuckles while his other arm shifted around her waist.

And then he held their hands out like they were dancing.

Katara smiled. Aang didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His eyes spoke so much for him that he could live mute and never need to write his thoughts, but his smile was a wonder of nature, like sunshine curled across his face, and his laugh was a gift that he wanted to share with the world.

All the Spirits and the Ancients themselves could not keep her from the soul who would ever damage his smile.

Aang often got lost in his need to make her his, but Katara quickly learned that intimacy was the last thing that concerned. He wanted to kiss her and touch her. He wanted to make her smile at silly jokes and laugh at his antics. He wanted to need her—to train himself to make her his focus. Two people only ever belonged to one another if they did. It was never a matter of leaving a mark on the other person. It was him putting her mark on himself—him pulling her closer so that she might fill the void he wanted so desperately to fill with her.

He wanted to chase her, not to catch her but to give her reason to want to run with him.

And as he swayed her softly, she leaned into his lead until they were two pendulums dancing in the moonlight.

Aang being a little shit like in Dip in the Bed is always fluffy to me because smartass-ery is just adorable for some reason:

Aang’s smile was as bright as his eyes were gentle. They were half-lidded, too. His whole posture was a broken coil pretending to still be a spring, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He laid on his side and rested his face on one fist, eclipsing her in his shadow. He studied her like she was a painting he was seeing for the first time—like he was just now finding every hidden meaning buried behind each brushstroke.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Aang said, like he always did. His voice was warmer than his robe had been when it came off the fire. 

Katara stared for longer than she liked. Every part of her wanted to move. She couldn’t. Maybe all of this was a dream. Aang said he would be gone for a week at the least. It had been only a few days. He had to fly all the—

Aang touched her cheek and hummed their song. And though only his thumb brushed under her eye, the whole of her felt like it was hugged.

He was home early.

That bastard.

But the fluffiest of all, imo, is that which I haven’t released yet, and it’s a kindof essay-type post of all things😅 It’s a little rambling about "Avatar’s Love” and what I think it means (all a result of the TSR analysis lmao), and the whole of it makes me cry like a BABY and makes me so dang HAPPY every time oh my gosh:

...It was the same notes played to a different melody that was as familiar as it was new. It was the same partner in a different dance and a new song created together. Each beat of the song is different, and so is each step of the dance. There are an endless amount of ways to say ‘I love you’, and there are just as many infinite ways to say ‘I love you, too’. It can be someone standing silent beside you, or it can be someone not beside you filling your silence.

It was passing on a betrothal necklace as a gift to a daughter. The love is still there. It’s just in a different form—the same notes but rearranged with a new player creating a new song.

It’s a story coming to a close, but the longing for more is what makes it complete.

The song ends, but only for a while. Silence meant a moment to breathe...

(ALSO JUST EVERYTHING ABOUT MEET ME BY THE RIVER ON GOD I JUST SVNEOIUBVNERIPFBNDFB)

[heli0s-writes]

I. What's in a name (that which we call a Bucky)

Summary: What kind of name is BUCKY? Your dog's name is BUCKEYE. Much better. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: A more humorous work... be alert: everyone in this fic is a lil shit. Dog-lover reader. Enemies to friends to lovers and strap in kiddos, we’re going to Ohio!

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

It’s past midnight when the bell on your doorknob titters. A high-pitched whine follows the noise and you drop the book in your hand before emitting a loud groan of annoyance. As a response to your complaint, footsteps quickly pad back towards the computer room you sit in.

“God damn it,” you scold towards the door, “I just took you out like an hour ago.”

It’s half-serious, half-playful as you point a finger towards the 50-pound mass of pure muscle now pitifully cocking his head to the side. Your dog, Buckeye, lovingly named after your alma-mater’s mascot whines pathetically as he falls forward onto his two front paws and gives you the saddest look he can muster. The slate-grey skin between his eyes bends upwards in crinkly folds as he continues to peer at your perched figure on the swivel chair.

You shuffle your desk space around, placing the heavy tome from your hand over the mountain of other paperbacks scattered about. Taking one final look over the paper you’d been working on for the last two weeks, you hit save, making sure it uploads itself to the online drive before stepping away.

The clock on the lower right-hand corner of your monitor reads 2:30. Fuck. Way more than past midnight. You had been so focused on writing you didn’t even realize how late it was. Sending an apologetic look to your dog, you rub his ear before heading down the hallway and grabbing the leash by the door. Poor guy, you hadn’t taken him out in almost four hours.

He’s striding towards you, tail wagging back and forth at the sight of your hand on the leash. His tongue flops out stupidly and you giggle at how dumb he looks. Before clipping the leash to his collar, you give him a big kiss on the head and push your face affectionately. He’d come such a long way in the past five months.

“Okay, big baby. Let’s go.”

The training bell hanging from the knob flails against the door as you step outside, closing it shut.

You and Buckeye head downstairs, your slippers squishing against the wet grass as he leads you over to his favorite sniffing grounds. Under the lamp, you scroll on your phone distractedly, making sure you’d replied to all the e-mails you had received earlier in the day. Eyeing him from time to time to make sure he’s doing what he’s supposed to, you tap out a quick response to a group message from some classmates. They’re probably awake at this time anyway, you muse bitterly, graduate school can be a real bitch like that. Tucking the phone into your back pocket, you fiddle a doggy bag from its container strapped to the leash and maneuver it over your hand.

“No sniffing that poo.” You command Buckeye, and he gazes back over his shoulder at you for a single brief second, as if truly contemplating your authority before giving it a quick whiff anyway. You scoff before tugging him from the pile and further back into the grass. “C’mon, Buck. Dude, I gotta get back in. Please poop. The bag’s ready for you.”

You wave it around helplessly as he traipses on, keeping close, but really pushing your patience. Ten minutes later, you decide you’ve had it with him and start tugging him back towards the sidewalk. He resists at first and you have to use your “mom” voice a couple of times before he follows your lead and drags himself back to your side.

This was the usual routine of your life: wake up, go to campus, work on campus, work from home, find time to eat, work some more, go to bed. In-between all of those activities was of course, take Buckeye outside to jog, pee, shit, and socialize… when he was up for it.

You “adopted” the big lug from the shelter six months ago, falling head over heels for that stupid white oblong patch (you called it his Penis Patch because c’mon… it looked like one) and that wrinkly-ass forehead of his. He had been abused as a puppy and then abandoned in an alleyway with a handful of other pit bulls. By the time he got to the animal shelter, he was massively underweight and terrified of being near humans. He was only two months old. It took a lot of work on your end to get him back to a normal weight and as much as people loved to praise how you “saved” him- it was honestly the opposite that happened.

Yes. It was cheesy and gross as fuck to admit out loud, but that dumb animal actually saved you.

If you hadn’t adopted him and decided he was going to be your tether to this fuck-ass world, you were cock-sure you’d have tied yourself a noose out of bedsheets already. It’s what you told your therapist because it was just the damn truth.

The spring air of Manhattan whips over your face as you make your way towards the stairs of your unit, taking glances here and there to make sure nothing scary was happening. Your location was relatively safe, but honestly, you never know with people. You had seen your fair share of frightening and inexplicable things from your time in New York.

As if you were summoning the bad luck to your doorstep, gunshots ring out from a few blocks away. At least you hope it is, because the echo throughout your apartment unit suggests that it’s much closer. Buckeye starts twitching, darting left and right at the sound. You’re steeling your body as he begins to pull and snap at him with your fingers, calling his name. He heads quickly towards the apartment. Another shot resonates between the buildings.

On your right, Buckeye lets out a high-pitched yelp and jumps as rapid footsteps approach behind you. You barely make it two steps out of the way before a heavy body barrels into you and knocks you onto the sidewalk. Both your knees hit the concrete hard and you immediately roll to your side and fumble to find the leash that fell from hand. Your dog is losing it, and frankly, you are about to as well.

He starts to take off towards the darkness of the grass and you’re screaming his name, trying to scramble up to catch the plastic handle of the retractable leash that’s dragging against the ground. His tongue is loose and panting as he whips his head back and forth between you and the darkness, unsure of where to go.

“Come here! Come!”

You ignore the searing in your kneecaps and reach out as you take a step. Before you can make it much farther, an arm swings itself over your neck and strangles the rest of your words.

A single shot fires off at your dog. Buckeye is outta there. He’s yelping the whole way and you cannot stop yourself from shrieking.

“Don’t fucking speak.” A voice growls behind you. The body it belongs to is distinctly masculine as they knee you in the back and prop you up to stand beside them. The cold barrel of a gun presses itself against your temple and you freeze, hands quivering at your sides. Your heart has either imploded or is about to because you can’t tell if it’s beating or not anymore. There is ringing in your ears from the gun being fired in such close quarters, your eyes struggle to focus.

You have so many questions, but your mind is currently a squirrel in traffic running between the front axle of two tires labelled: “Is this where I fucking die?” and “Is my dog okay?”. Getting splattered to bits by either one was dealer’s choice, and your dealer didn’t seem too choosy.

In the distance, footsteps approach and you see two large frames enter your blurry field of vision, lit up under the streetlamp. There are two glimmering silver shapes reflecting that flickering light, one in the shape of a … dinner plate? And the other… another dick. What the hell? Oh god, you think automatically about your dick-spot-shaped dog. Where is he?

“Let her go!” the dinner plate yells. The barrel presses further into your head.

“Drop your weapons!” your assailant calls back, “Or she dies!”

You’re in a bad procedural cop show or something, you swear. Or Ashton Kutcher is 50 years old and he is laughing his ass off in a van right now, filming a new season of Punk’d. You squeeze your eyes shut when the gun clicks against your head, which is generally right after it goes off, according to the movies. There’s a warm sensation against your back and you hope to god that it isn’t you pissing yourself. When you smell the coppery scent rising, you realize it’s the man’s blood. When he sways a little and your body droops with him, you are positive it’s his blood.

The funny silver California/dick shape in the distance moves and becomes a small circle, with a dark spot in the middle. Is that a fucking gun? You blink a couple of times to see the shadowy outlines of the two people stepping closer. There’s aggravated whispering from both of them and your attacker begins to yell about something before a deafening blast cracks past your eyes.

Warm blood sprays on your face when the man falls backwards, heavy limb taking you down with him. You get some of it in your mouth and you scramble to fuck off as far as you can from this now dead body. The two shapes are running towards you, one of them gripping you hard by the arm and pulling you up.

“Buckeye! That is not protocol!”

You dizzily shake your head at the sound of your dog’s name and find your balance on the sidewalk, toes pressing against your slipper to have it back on your foot correctly. In front of you were two enormous men, and you recognize them immediately: Captain America and Winter Soldier.

“You know I don’t miss.” The Soldier retorts, bottom half of his face obscured by his signature black latex mask. It muffles his voice, but you can clearly hear the agitation. Captain America looks over your dripping red knees. “You okay, ma’am?”

You ignore him. As far as you are concerned at this point, they’re both just as dead to you as this other fucker on the ground. You want to find your dog.

“Buck?” You call into the patch of darkness as you carefully tread into the grass, wincing when your knees sting with every step. You don’t see the two Avengers looking at each other in confusion.

“BUCK!” You scream again, panic returning to your chest as you think about your dog scurrying around in the dark, dragging his damn leash, and spiraling back into the hot mess he was six months ago. Damn it, it had taken you so long to train him out of being skittish, and now he was going to be right back in it. You look around the dark, turning the flashlight on your phone and follow what looks like to be a trail of blood. It’s not yours, so you correctly deduce it’s Buckeye.

You start to hyperventilate, shaking with every step.

“Oh, Buck, you piece of shit you, I swear to god, if you’re dead, I’m going to kill you.”

“…Ma’am?”

You whip around and glare at Captain America, “What!” He takes a step back, hands coming up as if to deflect your outcry. His partner next to him places his gun back in the holster at his hip with a quiet click, eyeing you suspiciously. Captain America looks around, like he’s surprised you’ve yelled, because he probably doesn’t get yelled at very often by people he saves.

“…Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“Th’ broad’s mental.” The Soldier scoffs, heading back towards the limp body on the ground. He digs his hands into every pocket of the corpse, even opening the mouth to peer inside. “We need to move this body.” He pulls out a tiny USB from a sewn-on pocket inside the vest and puts it in a pouch on his belt.

“I’m looking for my damn dog.” You hurl, “I’m looking for my fucked-up rescue dog, who was doing very well and on his way to being a proper good boy, before you fucks came along and shot him!”

You hear yourself being more and more hysterical with every syllable. Your pitch is increasing with your heart rate, and the part of you that fears retribution from super soldiers is raising its hand up to be called on by your dominant lizard-brain. Your lizard-brain is soaked in fear and refuses the hand.

“That guy shot your dog.” The Soldier nudges the body with a steel-toed boot.

“You scared him! He’s afraid of loud noises and you were shooting up the place, you trigger-happy motherfucker,” you point a finger to the offending Avenger, “You could have shot me, you bag of limp dicks.”

Winter Soldier lets your insults slide; you’re definitely off your meds, he thinks. “Like I said, I don’t miss.”

Captain America finally snaps his shield back onto his back and runs a hand through his hair. You’re half surprised he’s not wearing that dorky-ass helmet he’s usually sporting but turn around regardless and start walking faster, ignoring the muddier ground the further you go in. From the position next to the soon-to-be chalk outline, the two Avengers argue quietly before one of them groans and they both fall silent. You figure they’ve kissed and made up.

Grass is shuffling behind you as Captain America effortlessly catches up to your uneven steps.

“I can track your dog. Let me help.”

You say nothing because you’re so preoccupied with being pissed off that this happened in the first place and because you honestly couldn’t refuse the help regardless of how overinflated your pride was. You couldn’t see for shit in the dark and you’d rather have Buckeye back than any amount of satisfaction flinging insults could bring. Stepping back, you let Brown-Beard take the lead and follow him through the mud and into the back of a unit now five buildings away.

When you slip on a particularly wet patch, he’s quick to grab your elbow and support you. He also takes it as an opening to make conversation.

“What’s type of dog is…”

“Buckeye.” You say, pulling your elbow away and falling back into step. He turns around and raises a single eyebrow.

“Buck…eye?” The second syllable is dropped low- as if he’s unsure that it’s the right thing to say.

“….Yes. Buckeye.” You hiss back.

“Buck…eye.” He repeats again, moving the sounds around in his mouth carefully. You pull a face but say nothing. Boy they sure like to make ‘em big and dumb, don’t they?

“He’s a pit bull. He’s gray with a white patch on his chest. He’s not fucking lethal or anything- like people think he’s just… damaged. He’s not even full-grown; just an oversized ball of anxiety and post-traumatic stress.” Your voice becomes distressed the more you talk about your good boy, and you decide to shut up before you can burst into tears.

“We’ll find him, promise.” Captain tries to send you a smile, but it gets misplaced in the thick of his beard and you’re not even looking anyway, pretending to follow the trail so he doesn’t see your eyes well up. You’re thankful for his help. But fuck him still; he scared your dog.

“There’s no more blood, which is good,” He says, “Steps are getting closer together, so he’s not running anymore. There’s a funny… thing- though. What’s he dragging?”

“His leash.” You mutter.

“Ah.” There’s a pause, “You know, that’s actually a good thing- it’ll slow him down.”

 It’s at least another twenty minutes of walking in silence as you follow Captain Star Spangled Banner out of your apartment complex and down three completely decrepit alleyways, at least one littered with broken glass. Upon entering the fourth one, you swear you hear clattering in the back and pick up your speed, calling out.

“Buck? Buckeye? Is that you?” Your voice is quivering in the dark. Your companion has stilled beside you, not letting his footsteps drown out your voice. “Buckeye, come here.” You’re as careful as can be as you quietly step forward, a tiny bit closer to the slow shadow in the corner.

When a car drives by on the main road, the shine of headlights reflects two glowing blue pearls that you’d recognize anywhere. His tail is wagging happily against the pavement of the alleyway, and it breaks your heart to see he’s battered in blood.

You put both your arms around him to settle him from possibly scurrying away at the sight of Captain’s figure, who hangs in the back, but is still so large that it disturbs Buckeye. “My big guy,” You sob into his stupid, dirty neck, “You’re all muddy... Oh Buck, you big idiot… you dummy.”

You find the handle on the leash again, but Buckeye is tentative to follow, stumbling when he stands up on all four feet. When you lean over to examine him, he’s all cut up on his paws and you see it now, the big streak of open flesh on his upper thigh that’s crusted over into a brown stripe. The shiny fur that’s beneath it is matted with more dried blood and it’s so large that you break out into tears all over again. You don’t think he’s able to walk anymore, which might have worked out in your favor; it did stop him from running.

Captain slowly makes his way toward the two of you and reach both hands out, kneeling and laying one gently underneath Buckeye’s snout to scratch him. Your dog inspects the hand nervously before giving it a quick lick. He pants happily at the scratch to his chin and you can’t help but snort at his simplicity. Captain offers to pick him up for you and you let him, surprised that Buck’s letting someone other than you be so close. You’re glad for it, though, since you would not have been able to pick him up out of the alleyway on your own.

“I’ve been compared to a Golden Retriever before,” Captain says amiably as he easily holds Buckeye in his arms, leading you out of the dark path. He’s got a glint in his eye like he’s real proud of himself for that quip. “I definitely think of myself as a dog person.”

You scoff and save your retort for another time, pointing him in the direction of your local pet emergency hospital instead.

-

It must have been a sight for them, Steve ponders as he sits in the waiting chair of the hospital, giving away smiles at the receptionists and nurses who occasionally gather to stare at him. When the automatic doors slid open, they probably weren’t expecting Captain America in full tactical gear to walk in with a dog in his arms. Not to mention the young woman who followed, looking in not much better shape than the dog.

He glances over to you as you lean back in the plastic chair resembling more of a bucket than anything comfortable. Both your knees are completely skinned raw and the trail of blood reached your feet, caked in mud. The woman at the front desk offered you some bandages and antiseptic, which you’d haphazardly sloshed all over yourself before resigning to let it be. Your eyes have slipped closed as you wait for the nurse to come talk to you about your dog; it is late, after all—nearly four in the morning, and Steve lets you rest when he hears your breathing slow.

He begins to check his phone, punching in a text to Bucky with updates, barely able to hold back the giddy energy inside of him. Bucky was going to flip when Steve cracks open the can of worms that is the dog’s name. And it’s going to completely boil his noodle when he hears that your description of your dog almost perfectly matched Steve’s own description of Bucky. He swears right now, under these old fluorescent lights and with God’s blessing that he would never, ever, let Bucky live this down.

“You… use…a … flip… phone?” Your disbelieving voice is so quiet that Steve thinks a ghost is making fun of him.

“Well, it does flip, and it is a phone.” He retorts, face completely blank for a couple of seconds before breaking out into a smirk.

Your sit up in the chair, looking over to Steve incredulously. “Who are you, my dad?” Your features twist into a disgusted sneer, but he catches the amusement in your eyes.

He chuckles in response. It’s not the first time Steve’s been told that his jokes were corny, at this point in his life, he’s decided to just go with it.

“Don’t you have someplace to be? Maybe more Avenging in another quiet neighborhood?” The snark comes out sharper than you intend it, but between the two hours of sleep last night and probable zero hours of sleep you’ll get tonight, you’re on autopilot.

“It’s being taken care of.” He stares straight ahead. Your comment implies that you’d rather him leave, but he feels in part responsible and obligated to stay. Besides, you’ll need a ride home and someone to carry your pet to the door. “I’m sorry about your dog.”

“He’s not fucking dead,” You huff, “If he was, you and Bicentennial Man would be fucked. You won’t believe how many knives I can carry in my mouth alone.”

Steve almost gives himself whiplash as he does a double-take on your completely placid and unfazed profile view. He thinks it’s better not to ask about the capacity of knives your mouth can hold or about how you know that very specific fact about yourself. However, he can’t help from letting out a wheeze of a laugh because the feral image frankly reminds him more and more of Bucky; Steve has definitely seen Bucky with a knife in his mouth.

Another fifteen minutes pass of drifting in and out of sleep before the nurse peeks her head out and calls you into the treatment room. She stares open-mouthed when Steve followed dutifully behind and closes the door with a quiet click.

Buckeye is lying in a lethargic daze on the table with a plastic cone around his neck. The large gash on his leg has been stitched and carefully covered by gauze and his paws are bandaged up as well. At the sight of the two of you, his tail begins to pat slowly against the smooth surface of the table in quick taps before trailing off and starting back up again. He is looking into your eyes, but Steve can see his gaze wander around the room in a medicated stupor from time to time.  

His stomach tightens when you begin to sniffle and draw lazy circles on Buckeye’s head with your thumb. The nurse runs over the health diagnostic for your pup and all seems pretty well, considering the doleful state he’s in.

“He might not eat for the first day, but you’ll have to try to make him...” The nurse hands you a large zip-loc full of bandages, ointments, pills, and paper. “Keep the cone on for at least two weeks and stick to the dosage schedule… Do you have any questions?”

You shake your head, rifling through the various items in the bag before zipping it back up.

“Okay. Well, he’s doing really good, and I think he’ll make a speedy recovery soon.” The nurse offers you a smile and you reply kindly, thanking her for everything before sighing at Buckeye. Steve steps forward in the silent moment and scoops your dog’s tired body into his arms before thanking the nurse as well. She goes white as a sheet when you open the door to let him out. Steve hopes there won’t be any tweets later about Captain America saving puppies.

 At the front desk, Steve watches you shuffle side to side when the receptionist rings up each cost. Dressed in an oversized Ohio shirt and pajama shorts, it’s obvious you are not prepared for this. You were probably just a college student, and since he didn’t see you make any phone calls to your parents or family members who might foot the bill, he assumes you’re on your own. Before the receptionist can hand you anything, Steve shifts and tilts his right leg forward.

“Can you reach into this pocket?” He asks, startling everyone in the vicinity: you, the receptionist, and your dog. You stare at him dumbly for a minute, grimacing at the leg pointed in your direction and the back-and-forth Captain America’s eyes keep sending you. It goes from your face to his pocket and every time it returns to your face your frown drops more.

“What?”

“For my wallet.”

“Fuck no!”

“C’mon… I don’t think you have any other options,” the sentence hangs on a truth you don’t need spoken. You pale and begrudgingly reach for the snap closure on his thigh, widening grimace now making your face look like a melted Dali painting. The receptionists’ eyebrows go higher and higher the closer your shaking hand gets. Captain America bounces his leg to shake the leather case loose as your hand digs inside and gets stuck between fabric and muscle. Buckeye grumbles in his arms at the jostling and his holder whispers a quiet apology before nuzzling him with his nose.

He doesn’t notice you staring. The receptionist does.

When the wallet is finally pried free (why are his pants so tight, anyway? This bitch is dummy thicc, too, you think) he motions for you to pull out a black card with a surprising bit of heft to it. You nervously hand it over and avoid eye contact with him as the transaction finishes, stuffing the damn thing back in and snapping it shut in one swift motion. You can feel your face stuck in a rigid expression of bewilderment the entire time.

“I-- uh... thanks... for that.”

He motions you with his head to go outside and when you follow him through the automatic doors, a black car is parked in front. The Winter Soldier is in the driver seat and reaches over to open the door. He’s taken his mask off and looks over at the Captain with your dog in his arms. He’s all stubbly and homeless-looking, you think, the complete opposite of Golden Boy Rogers in front of you.

An exhausted look passes over his dark features as he glances from Captain to Buckeye to your fucked-up knees. “...Just... get in.”

 The ride is silent save for the sound of Buckeye’s soft whimpers in the fit of a nightmare. You hush him with soft pets and coo his name in his ears. “It’s okay, Buck. I’m here, Bucky.”

The Soldier snaps his gaze up to you from the rearview mirror. Captain America smirks. You catch neither of their expressions, transfixed on your dog who resembles Frankenweenie more than himself. Stupid fucking bad guy. Stupid Avengers.

“What did you just say?” Winter Soldier slowly asks, and you glare at him in the rearview mirror.

“What?” You snap back. What the fuck was his problem? “Mind your fucking business, I’m talking to my goddamn dog.” Buckeye whimpers again and you pat him lightly to soothe his crying. Captain America begins to chuckle quietly from the passenger seat the longer Winter Soldier stares at you. “Eyes on the fucking road.” You hiss when you catch his glare.

He’s probably going to shoot your ass, you think. Your dog begins to whimper again, a broken string of yowling erupting from him before he stills. The taped gauze on his side has started to turn a slight pink. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck.” You sigh.

“Jesus, what the fuck are you saying?” Winter Soldier nearly shrieks as he pulls sharply into a parking space in front of your building. His volume startles your dog and he shoots up with a loud whine, hitting the plastic cone on the back of the driver’s side. You quickly place both hands on his back to settle him down. “Buckeye, it’s okay.”

Captain America is in a full-on giggle fit now, having to hold his sides to stop himself from seizing. He briefly pauses to apologize and puts a hand on your dog’s head, quieting him with a lazy pet.

“It’s her dog, Buck!” “Yeah I know it’s my dog, Buck.” You snarl, confused as to why this is even a topic of discussion.

Red, white, and shit-for-brains starts up again with the laughing. “Th-the dog’s name--” He wheezes. “Is Buckeye.” There’s a flash of recognition that sweeps over the driver’s reflection in the rearview before it turns into one of annoyance. Then it turns into disdain.

“What kind of a fucking name is that?” He spits before smacking his hand into Captain America’s chest.

“Hey! Shut the hell up! That’s my alma mater you uneducated dickbag!” You point to your red Ohio State shirt with the big “O” right in the middle. It’s so worn and old that the red has faded, and the white print of the O is all cracked, but anyone with two braincells knows exactly what that means. You start bellowing the Ohio State Fight Song proudly and halfway through the second note Buckeye starts to howl weakly beside you.

Captain America bursts into another fit of laughter and pounds on the dashboard with his fists.

The Soldier whips around and slams his metal hand against your mouth, pushing your entire head back against the cushion. “Will you shut up!” To spite him, you continue humming to the best of your ability, even with your lip smushed up against your teeth and his cold palm. You raise your middle finger up between his eyes before holding the last note out particularly long.

Buckeye yowls and yips at your side, punctuating the tune with a quiet whine at the end. He lazily reaches up and licks the elbow joint between the front seat, leaving a slobber trail. He notices his reflection in it temporarily before getting distracted by Captain’s chuckle and lying back down.

Winter Soldier finally pulls his arm away and you take the opportunity to spitefully lick a similar stripe onto his palm, leaving it dripping with the spit you’ve accumulated in your mouth.

He crossly slumps in his seat. “I fucking hate this girl.” He mutters.

“It’s mutual, princess.” You retort, rubbing your stiff jaw and running your fingers against your lips. “What’s your problem with my dog’s name?” You’re a bit suspicious because he doesn’t seem like a college sports guy since he was non-responsive to your shirt but he sure as hell is not a fan of your dog.

“Do you know our names?” Captain America asks you, eyes alight. You shrug, because like, not really. World War II was interesting when you were in the sixth grade and morbid as fuck but it totally went in one ear and out the other for your entire college career. Even more boring was the Captain America propaganda, Super Soldier serum, humanity’s hubris bullshit. You were one of the few people you know who was not losing their mind when Tony Stark toured your university. More than anything, he annoyed you; he caused a huge traffic jam on campus and it ruined your route home. They just weren’t your thing—the Avengers.

“I mean, Stevie Ro… Rober—“ you gauge his reaction carefully, “Ronald— Ro— Ross? Rogers!” You breathe a sigh of relief as he memory of Emily Booth in fourth period doodling “Rogers” inside a million hearts appears in your mind. Then you turn to The Soldier and shrug. Plain as day, you could not recall his name whatsoever. You just called him the Dead Commando in that fourth period American History II final paper.

You got a passing grade, so “Dead Commando” stuck.

“It’s James Buchanan Barnes.” He grits out between clenched teeth.

“That’s fancy.” You deadpan, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Bucky. For short.”

“Buck, for even shorter.” Rogers pipes up, still all twinkly in the eyes, waiting for you to put two and two together. Yeah. You do. It makes you want to die a little.

“Ugh.” Is all you can manage.

--

He shows up the next morning in civvies: white T-shirt, navy blue bomber jacket, and well-worn dark jeans. You stare dumbly at him as he leans against your doorframe, almost as wide as the entrance itself. You’re half-asleep and dressed in the clothes you had on last night: crumpled red Ohio shirt, mismatched pinstriped blue and white pajama shorts.

Your phone had been misplaced amidst the ruckus of the search party, so you just planned on missing your meeting today. It wasn’t like you could properly function anyway, barely getting to bed at 5:30 and waking up at the asscrack of dawn with Captain Underpants at your door.

Even his knocks sounded patriotic. Big, strong thumping blows that rattled all the way into your bedroom.

“Rough night?” Steve Rogers asks as you try your best to smooth the flyaways of your bedhead. Stupid, perfect, blonde and blue-eyed giant man.

“Am I being haunted? What are you doing here?” Your voice sounds like gravel in a blender as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

He shrugs, looking down at his shoes and smiling secretively, like he’s got another corny joke up his sleeve. “Just wanted to see how Buck’s doing.”

“Don’t you have your own Buck to babysit? From what I remember, he needs a leash more than mine does.”

You let him in anyway, and your dog is waiting patiently by the couch, tail slapping the carpet as he remembers his savior from last night. Steve starts to coo as he scratches Buckeye’s chin and head, careful not to rile him up too much. He looks in complete ecstasy when Steve picks at a particularly good spot.

You shift awkwardly as you stand by the kitchen bar, leaning against a stool. How does one man still manage to look like his superhero moniker in civilian clothing? You bet yourself that his closet hung the same monochromatic color pallet—as if costume director dressed him, just in case he forgot he was Captain America.

“Well...” you begin, moving to the kitchen to brew yourself some coffee. Halfway to the single-serving French press, you trade it out for the larger one and add extra water in the kettle. You’re not sure what to say, so you shut up and groan inwardly as you grind the beans. You dip into the restroom and return with your toothbrush, scrubbing quietly as you watch Steve get on the floor to rub your dog’s pink tummy.

“If you pet him with your foot he won’t know the difference. Save ya knees, man.”

“This good boy deserves a real tummy rub, doesn’t he?” Captain America is using baby talk on your dog. It makes you feel... all funny.

Steve Rogers stands up and beams at you from across the counter. You frown because his perfect white smile is brighter than the sunlight streaming in through your window. You spit and rinse your toothbrush in the sink to avoid the shine, but he’s still there when you return. Great. Not a dream. Maybe a nightmare.

You take the kettle off the stovetop when it starts to squeak and blurt out another snarky comment just because you really hate silences and love being awkward. “Buckeye’s gonna get neutered soon. Wanna take yours too?”

Captain America chuckles and shakes his head, blue eyes twinkling at the hand on your hip. “You know, that smart mouth o’ yours is gonna get you into trouble one day.” You gulp as you pour the water suddenly aware that there is a real, live, broad-as-hell man standing in your living room and looking at you like you’re somebody... and he called your mouth smart.

You’re also suddenly aware that you look like shit and your hand shakes a little when you place the filter over the top of the floating coffee grinds.

“Fuck, I think I’m already in trouble.” You mutter into your shoulder as you turn.

Steve doesn’t catch the comment and digs his hand into his back pocket, producing the phone you’ve been missing since last night. You sigh in relief when you see it- as good as it was before, partially cracked screen, but still working. It’s warm when he puts it in your hand and you automatically pull a face.

“Butt heat. I mean--- hot! Hot ass!—Oh, damn it.”

You shut your eyes and the world feels like it’s stopped spinning altogether. Please god, you think, please let him be gone when you look again because you don’t think you can stand another minute on this Earth. Damn your stupid no-filter smart mouth.

He’s still there, though, because life is so stupid and whatever creator that exist hates you. His left eyebrow is raised, and he’s crossed his arms over his chest, smirking.

“You need to brush up on your compliments.”

“Not a compliment!” You hiss, “Don’t put people’s phones in your back pocket! You’re too fucking big to be sitting on them. But thank you for giving it back.”

Steve laughs as you push the filter down on the French press. He’s saying something about how Bucky wanted to put his hand through the device, but your ears are ringing too loudly to hear him. You feel relieved anyway, because you think that you’ve reached your quip-quota for the day.

You pour yourself a cup and he puts his hands up to stop you, excusing himself-- somewhere to be, some old lady to save, he says. You fumble around a bottom cabinet for a second before pulling out a thermos and dumping the rest of the press’ coffee into it.

“Since you did hand-deliver my phone to me, it’s the least I can do. It’s blue, too. Complements your eyes.”

He smiles and takes the thermos from you. “That was a good compliment.” He says, all twinkly again.

“Complement, not compliment.” You correct bluntly.

He takes two steps to the door before turning, “No, the compliment was that you noticed my eyes at all.” He laughs when your face scrunches up, miffed. Captain America was a real … sonuvabitch. “By the way... I left you a number for a dogsitter, just in case you need one.” You rotate the flat rectangle of your phone against your chest as he yanks the door open. “It’s a good service. Reliable. And they text, too.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You stare at Buckeye, who whines pathetically at the door.

You cock your head, looking at the time on the splintered screen. Might as well, you think, reading 7:15 flashing back at you. You could make it to campus by 9.

 The meeting drags on with your advisor, and it’s almost noon before you realize that you’re going to get hauled into another one of those pop-up seminars the faculty has been putting on all year. You’ve managed to avoid two because there’s just no fucking time to go! How are they expecting you to finish your thesis, go to class, grade a hundred stupid student papers, hold office hours, respond to a thousand e-mails a day, and keep your sanity?

It’s something you’re eager to complain to your therapist about any time she starts asking about your personal life. Which, you’ve been dodging re-scheduling recently. Shit.

You calculate the hours you’ll be away as you sip room-temperature coffee from a fuzzy paper cup. It’ll be another four hours before you can make it home and Buckeye really needs to go outside and have his bandages changed before then. Shit.

Your thumbprint opens the home screen and you scroll through your contacts, searching for that aforementioned “reliable” dogsitter. You hope to hell they’re also immediately available as you part a crowd of undergraduates to exit the building. Tapping the message bubble button, you open up a new thread.

You: Hello. I was referred to your services by a friend. Are you available today by any chance?

Your phone almost immediately vibrates back and you sigh in relief.

Dogsitter: That was fast.

You’re confused, but another response pops up again.

Dogsitter: What time do you need me to come by? And for how long?

You: ASAP? If that’s okay? Um. My dog is really fine on his own, but he’s been in an accident and I need him to have his bandages changed and given medicine. Also, he needs to be taken for a potty-break.

Dogsitter: Potty break, medicine, bandages. Got it…. And what about your key?

You: Yeah, I’ll send you my location for my key. What are your rates by the way?

You open up your map and set the pin to your location before sharing it with the dogsitter. It feels way too good to be true, but you’re a little crunched for time and even if he’s a crazy serial killer, you’ve got a pit bull and nothing of value in your apartment. You feel pretty secure.

The attempt to share your coordinates is rejected and you close the notification. Your phone buzzes in your hand again.

Dogsitter: My rates really depend on the dog… and shouldn’t you be asking for my name, or some identifying marker to recognize me by before I show up and take your [1/2]

You stare blankly at the green speech cloud. What the hell… even twitter updated its character count to 280… who the hell is living so far in the past… before you can finish your thought, the following green balloon appears.

Dogsitter: house key? Stranger danger, ma’am. [2/2]

All the right gears start clicking in your brain and suddenly two perfect pieces of the puzzle fits together. The mystifying black shadow on the other end of the line begins to come into view.

You: ….Steve... Roberts?

Dogsitter: Rogers!

The sound that erupts from your mouth is inhumanly pathetic, a mixture of a groan and a whine. Who did you piss off in your last life to be this cursed?

Next Chapter

[hughiecampbelle]

The Black Dog (Marcus Lopez Oneshot)

Character/s: Marcus

Word Count: 1,026

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid

A/N: So, I meant to write a different fic for tonight, but ya gurl hasn't been feeling that great mentally, so I wrote this instead. I know it's not my best, nor my typical style, but I'm glad I could get anything written, especially something this long. It always feels like one step forward, and two steps back. I know I'm not the only one, especially in these crazy times, but just know if you are feeling this way or have in the past, all these bad feelings will pass, and things will get better, it just takes a lil time :) Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

"You're just happy it's not you anymore. The black dog moved on."

Claws unclipped, teeth sharp, jaw locked around your skin. It had a taste for blood, for you, and him, and everyone else trapped in their beds. You didn't know what you were getting to when you found it. A puppy, sweet, small, with matted fur and tired eyes. Crying weakly, unable to life their own head. It didn't have a name, a diagnosis. That was too much, stepping over the line, out of your comfort zone. Fear. If you got too attached you'd never find your way out. Instead, you tried to distance it from you as much as possible.

It was not Your Black Dog, it was only The Black Dog.

Not the owner, but merely a caretaker, until it grew bored, tired of gnawing at your fingers, of messing up your room, of barking in the night, leaving you restless, exhausted, tending to your wounds. It peed on the floor, in your sheets, crying incessantly. It didn't eat, opting to chew your assignments, your school books, even your clothes. It didn't sleep, instead whimpering in your ears, walking over the bed, stepping on you all night, needing to get comfortable. Everything with The Black Dog became difficult.

Sometimes it was quick. Days, a week. Licking your face, wagging it's tail, barking to get your attention. Under the lunch table, following after you in the halls between classes, jumping through cigarette smoke on the roof, but most of the time it found you in bed. Sometimes it wasn't. Weeks, months, years. Never quite sure when - if - it was going to end. Wearing the same dirty clothes day in and day out because that shirt, those socks, they're too heavy to take off. Hygiene becomes a thing of the past. Your hair greasy, knotted, hurting. Your skin broken out, lips cracked, body unwashed. It made you feel like you weren't a person anymore. This dog took everything from you.

Your time, your energy, your will to live.

Then it was over. Then, it moved on. The sounds of it paws padding across the floor, scratching at the door to get out, to leave, watching it make its way down the hall, past the other boarding rooms, classrooms, out the door. Barking at the faces it recognized, the peoole who looked after it, but was not yet ready to visit again. You recognized the fear, the weight of that reminder on their shoulders, their minds. Like you, there was no escape, there was only a moment to breathe, to bathe, to clean up the mess it made before it found its way back. Time had a funny way of warping. It was hard to remember the way happiness felt when it was around, hard to recall a real time you'd laughed. When it left, though, it took the sadness, the grief, the numbness. Everytime, you expected to remember, to be better at handling it, coping with it, but it always felt like the first, no matter how many times you'd faced this.

Wiping your memory clean, catching you off guard all over again.

You knew it moved on to someone else. You didn't want to believe what Marcus said, his words bitter, truthful, honest. You wanted to think you were different, but that dog had stripped you of your compassion, making you feel more selfish than you ever thought you could be. When it wasn't with you, it was with someone else, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't the most relieved when it left. You could watch it push open the doors of others rooms, take the seat of someone in a class of yours, trip over itself to catch up to its new caretaker. So close to you, but not you, and that was enough for as long as it lasted.

Sometimes you blamed yourself. You were the one who couldn't deny a puppy, taking it in, wanting to protect it in a way the world never protected you. You thought you brought this on yourself. If you'd done something different, if you were a better student, a better friend, a better person, maybe this wouldn't be happening. You didn't realize what it was, though, until it was too late. A trick. A wold in sheep's clothing. It wasn't your fault. The Black Dog would have found you regardless, showed up out of nowhere, leaving you confused, full of doubt, and shame. It was inevitable. That's what they didn't understand, the ones who didn't hear the barking, who didn't get scratched or bitten. No one asked for this, no one brought on to themselves.

It just happened.

It made you think you were the only one. Countless nights awake, feeling lonely, undeserving, it made you think no one cared about you, that they shouldn't have to. That no one would miss you if you were gone. But you weren't. The Black Dog was a silent killer, man's best friend, always in need of a companion. It wasn't something you spoke of, not often, wanting to keep conversation light. He noticed before anyone. The teeth marks on your hands, arms, the bags under your eyes, the mess f your room. He saw it, because the dog visited him, too. Stepping on his heels, tearing apart his comic books, drooling over his notebooks. Marcus recognized it all in you.

He never was the most domforting, often taking a cynical approach on the world, never getting his hopes high, never trusting too easily, but he knew the kind of havoc this dog created, the things it did to you, the things it made you do. It came with stigma, misconception, boiling it down to its bones. It's not being sad. It's not laziness. It's crushing, it's suffocating, and it hurts like hell. If he could be there, distract the dog, tire it out, help you for as long as you needed, then he would. Eventually, it would go away, because it always did, but until then, he'd be by your side, showing you how he got through it, how you can, too.

[solitaria-fantasma]

There's a box on the stoop for Gawain and his own mystery skulls group. It has a note that reads 'Merry Christmas!' on it, and inside in separate boxes are a few plushies, one of each of their favorite animals. Gawain's is a lizard large enough he could drape it over his shoulders.

Before anyone could even touch the box, Chopper cut them off with an alarmed trill, and dove headfirst into the box. Gawain rolled his eyes while Arthur waved a ‘give us a second’ hand back towards Vivi and Lewis in the entry way. After a few seconds, Chopper reappeared from within the box, looking much more at ease.

“Are we all clear?” Gawain asked, trying to keep the sarcastic edge out of his tone. Chopper had always been a bit paranoid - especially with anything anonymous, or potentially Grey Fae related - but she meant well. The little spirit made an affirmative noise, and swam back into the house, her job done. The brothers shared a look and a smile before Arthur picked up the box to bring it inside, with Gawain shutting the door behind him.

“So?” Vivi was all but bouncing on her toes, and walked backwards down the hallway until they reached the living room, and Arthur could set down the box on the coffee table. “What is it? Who’s it from?”

“I don’t see a tag anywhere.” Lewis remarked as he looked over the box himself. “Are we sure it’s not from those fae?” He frowned. “They’ve been relatively tame lately, but-”

“I think it’s alright.” Gawain interrupted. “Chopper cleared it herself, and you know she can smell those grey bastards from a mile off.”

“Mystery’s been pretty calm all day, too.” Arthur added, already wiggling his fingers under the lid of the box to pry it open. “He’s been on the warpath for those things since they scared the fluff out of him the other night, so if he’s been chill, then they must’ve all cleared out.”

“As they should have.” Mystery sniffed as he padded into the room, and hopped up onto the couch to get a better view of the package. “It’s about time they displayed some common sense...so.” The canine raised a paw and tugged at the edge of the box as Arthur set the lid aside. “Where did this come from?”

“We don’t know.” Lewis reached into the box, and pulled out another, smaller box with the kitsune’s name ono it. “But whomever dropped it off put something for each of us in here. Mystery, this is yours,” Lewis passed the smaller box to the (suddenly much larger) kitsune, and picked up another with his own name on it. “And it looks like this one is mine.”

“Ooh, there’s one for me, too!” Vivi snatched up her own box. “Artie, Gawain, you guys get something, too!”

“And here I was about to feel left out.” Gawain joked as he and his brother picked up their respective boxes. Vivi was the first to finish tearing into hers, and she let out an excited shriek at what she found.

“AAAAA GUYS LOOK AT THIS TURTLE!” She held up the purple turtle plush as if she’d just found the Holy Grail. “BOKU’S GONNA HAVE A FRIEND NOW!”

“Vivi, inside voice, please.” Lewis was the next to finish, and in direct opposition to his own light scolding, he made a happy, high-pitched noise, and his hair rippled in delight. “Oh my gosh!” He hugged the orange alpaca plush tight to his chest. “Look at this!! It’s so fluffy!!!”

“I think I can guess the theme, here...” Arthur laughed as he unwrapped his own gift, and revealed a purple hamster plush. “Aw, man, look at this thing! It’s even got a lil’ sunflower seed - that’s adorable!”

“Not as adorable as this~” Mystery preened, adjusting the faux fur on red kitsune plush he’d been given. “But a close second, surely.”

“Aaaaaa!” Gawain promptly threw his plushie gift - a three foot long yellow lizard with soft, floppy spines and big, goofy toes - around his shoulders. “Aaaaaa!!”

“Gee,” Arthur leaned over and nudged Vivi with his elbow. “Do you think he likes it?”

“I dunno.” Vivi grinned back. “I think he might.”

“I’m gonna name him Neil!!” Gawain declared excitedly. Lewis burst out laughing.

“Like the astronaut?” He asked.

“Of course!” Gawain replied. “That man is my hero!”

“I was thinking ‘Althe’, myself.” Arthur commented, giving his new plush a look of mock scrutiny.

“All-the Kingsmen? Really?” Vivi elbowed him back, and Arthur yelped.

“Yeah, well, what were you thinking of, then?” The blond shot back as he rubbed his side. Vivi went quiet for a few seconds.

“...Atashi.” She decided at last.

“Boku and Atashi?” Lewis chuckled. “At least you’re sticking to a theme. Let’s see...” The ghost pretended to think as he looked down at his plush. “I think ‘Sergeant Citrine’ will make a good addition to my collection.” 

“....” Arthur and Vivi burst out laughing, and Mystery quickly grabbed his plush and vacated the couch as they collapsed on the cushions. Lewis let them, still smiling, and Mystery curled up on a nearby chair with his own gift securely nestled in his paws. He really needed to find whomever had left this mysterious gift.

He owed them a great thanks - if not for the toys themselves, then for the memory they had helped to make tonight...

[arcadequeerz]

I’ve been thinkin of a Toon Sammy, n I have,,ideas.

This all sorta got spurred on by me thinkin too hard about the saying: ‘Wolf in sheeps clothing’ thing, and relating it to Sammy- so I took it literally HGFDH Kinda-

He’s some kind of Wolf toon- but Also partly Sheep- He looks like a sheep at first glance, Hooves- Ram like horns, Fur is curly-black and wool like, But if you get *too* close- You can see how Sharp his teeth are, How his eyes look wrong- and you’ll notice the sharp, claw like points at the end of his finger tips,under his gloves.

Hes literally a 'wolf' in sheeps clothing.

He takes on a more 'wolfish' appearance under moments of strong emotion, Like say Anger.

Heres a lil bit more specific on how I think he looks:

He's very well dressed, Has like- coattails, black suit and has a white bowtie with Musical notes on it. His fur is solid black, wool like n curly, Has curled rams horns and sheep like ears that are more furred like wolves ears- And he has a short fluffy tail.

Has sheep like hooves and has sharp claws, Hands have paw pads on his fingers n palm- but he wears gloves to hide them and his claws.

There's a specific way I see his face- Unsure of how to explain it so sorry if this Doesn't make sense- He has a shortish sheep like muzzle, but his teeth are Canine like, and very sharp- His eyes don't quite look like those of a sheep- There's just something Off about them-

I was imagining like, When his more wolfish traits come out his muzzle becomes more wolf like, Longer? And his ears go from bein like sheeps ears to standing more Upright like wolves ears- fur becomes less wool like, less soft and bristles- bares his teeth and his eyes look less and less Sheep- and more wolf.

Body wise I'm kinda imagining him being kinda tall- and thin. I'm specifically imagining like, when his more wolfish features come out- Like say when he's mad, He almost seems less 'soft'- more sharp- not quite toon like?? More a monsterous feel to him/look. HGFDSHG Unsure how to properly explain wht i mean HGFSHG

It quickly goes away once he calms though- Sort of like- Shakes it off almost? Shakes his head and he's back to normal, straightens his bowtie and apologizes 

I'm just imagining him like- Snapping at someone- Like someone's bothering him, Will not stop badgering him and he just turns around, facing them- teeth bared, fur bristled and snaps at them to Leave him alone- The person quickly gets the message and backs off, and once they leave Sammy relaxes- His fur goes back to that soft, curly wool like look as he goes back to whatever he was doing.

I don’t have many ideas of like, any Story relating to this atm unfortunately- The one idea I had is that Sammy has a ‘Flock’ he’s a part of/leads, Of sheep toons(think like the Lost Ones), who he is Fiercely protective of-? But that’s all I rly got HGHG I’m just really attached to this design idea more then anything- N its been living rent free in my head for days now so Thought I’d share it d:p

[askmyboys]

Tyrone

Here’s a furry character I made, im honestly getting invested into those types of babs but i... kinda suck at descriptions lmao, I’ll get better wiht it sooner or later though hopefully

I’ll post Noxis later, gotta just read over his desc again tho bc i cant remember the specific trigger warnings i need to put on his desc so yeye

| Name: Tyrone

| Nicknames: Tyre/Ty

| Gender: He/Him

| Age: N/A

| Height: 7’3”

| Species/Race: Anthropomorphic Dog (Cane Corso is the breed he’s based on)

| Hair style: His hair is essentially just part of his fur- but the fur is slicked back on top of his head to match the rest of his fur really (I mean… Cane Corso fur IS pretty slicked back and not super fuzzy ya know?)

| Eye Color: Caramel Brown

| Fur Color/Body Type: Black and overall he’s pretty average looking, looks a b i t muscular tbh

| Appearance: Let’s start off with the actual appearance instead of the clothing, he got his ears cropped from a young age (where he comes from, it's a mixed thing really, in his pack specifically cropped ears were a rite of passage while to other packs cropped ears were ghastly and considered cruelty but eh to each their own) so now his ears are pointed, he also has a silver earring on the top of his right ear! His teeth are razor sharp and his paw pads are relatively natural coloring a charcoal color, on the middle paw pad of his right paw there is some kind of birthmark there it seems, it’s shaped like a simple circle BUT the birthmark’s meaning is the crucial bit here, it is essentially a high stature sorta thing, only his father has that birthmark of the entire pack, even all the sons and daughters from various litters never held that birthmark, not until Tyrone came along.

His outfit he usually wears is a black leather jacket that has spikes on the shoulder pads with a white t-shirt underneath, he’s got a black collar with a LOT of spikes surrounding it on, more so than the usual spiked collars and they are actually VERY sharp (it’s essentially to protect his neck during fights, I’ll explain that in a bit though) but also it just looks cool, it’s got a bone hanging down the front with his name written in cursive on it, he usually wears charcoal black jeans that are ripped with chains hanging down them (even though his tail is stubby he still cut a hole for it bc that’d still be uncomfy tbh), he doesn’t wear any boots though, boots tend to give him aches while walking.

He’s also got a lot of scars, his most prominent scarring is one on the nose, three over his right eye but he can still see out of it surprisingly, a few long ones near his neck and some old puncture wounds from what looks like dog teeth, and finally claw marks up and down his arms, belly, back, and legs.

Oh btw, even tho he wears a shirt without it you can see he has white patch of fur running down his chest and stomach! Just another lil detail.

| Personality: Tough, stubborn, sometimes a little too cocky for his own good, narcissistic even sometimes? He can be VERY protective and loyal however to the right people/animals, he’s always on high alert of his surroundings and the people around him despite not seeming like he is sometimes, he can be very calm and stable and he USUALLY thinks before he acts but that’s not ALWAYS the case, he can be quiet and reserved sometimes as well but it’s rare, he’s usually pretty much an extrovert although not many people nor other animals approach him, he looks and sounds intimidating as hell and while it CAN be a good thing it can also be a bad thing, deep down he’s a good guy, he’s soft, sweet, kind, and caring! He doesn’t like that most treat him as a terrifying threat or beast, he ain’t about hurting someone just for fun!

The only time he EVER attacks is in self defense OR in defense of the people he cares about, and even then that has to be when he’s ABSOLUTELY pushed to his limit, he’s more so a big referee toward things like fights n shit like that, he’ll body block the two offenders or put himself in front of those he’s trying to protect and usually all he needs to do is speak or growl and that usually sends offenders running off, and even then if they persist he’ll then try giving corrections (corrections are a HUGE thing among his pack) while he won’t actually bite them, he’s going to make a lot of horrifying sounds and act like he’s going to, and usually because to most dogs, not just his pack (yeah corrections are common amongst most dogs too i know) he’ll even go as far as to put someone/another dog especially on their side.

Sure, humans… Are very different and more complex but even then, most of them after being checked by a huge seven foot three dog like him, most will think twice before continuing to try and escalate things. Unfortunately because of his size (he’s the second biggest in his pack, the first being his father likewise) most other dogs, especially ones of his own breed try to challenge him a LOT, and he doesn’t like fighting, usually he ignores these but if they keep on bothering him, he’ll try and give them a warning, aka something like a correction essentially, he’ll tell them very clearly to back off but if they lunge for him or try to go for him at all, then he will NOT hold back, he’s not going to let himself be pushed around or killed just because some dog is butthurt about him being bigger than they are.

| Side Facts: Likewise, his scars have come from SEVERAL fights, some even from his own pack which… His father didn’t take a liking to at all and especially not his mother… His father was the alpha and despite being a male in this situation he actually stepped in quite a lot, however his father was a bit more…

Let’s just say a little more forgiving, his mother was an absolute SPITFIRE, she ruled with an iron fist and she didn’t tolerate ANY bullshit, she’d never hurt any of her pack members nor babies especially but there was no tolerance for certain things and in her pack you HAD to obey the rules whether you liked them or not.

She was MUCH more harsh than his father was with corrections, heh- Tyrone remembers as a pup oh he can’t even COUNT how many times he heard his mom growling, snarling and of course can't count how many times he’s seen her bare her teeth even, she was a no nonsense kind of woman, even toward the puppies she ruled with an iron fist, they were taught along with Tyrone from a very young age how important the rules were and how important energy and certain cues from other dogs were.

Tyrone is very embarrassed however bc the stories his mom always tells were how as a young pup, he was the aggressive little spitfire who didn’t care how big his opponent was, he’d challenge them, try to dominate, and conquer essentially- Nothing was thought through then, in his adolescent years he was always SO damn serious! No play, no nothing! He even growled at the pups trying to play with him! Some little tiny marks that are barely able to be seen came from his mom and dad but, in dog society it’s kinda natural, I mean to be fair, dogs when correcting aren’t like humans, they only have their mouths so when a dog’s correction your BOUND to see a mark here and there.

He does thank his mama for setting him straight though that’s for sure… He sounded like such a handful and even though he has the second highest stature to his father, even he was not safe from the corrections lmao, his mother is actually first in command, father is in second co-command essentially and finally Tyrone is in third- all three of them are p much high ranking, of course since his parents are still living THEY are the alphas but he IS a Beta, the other brothers and sisters being mostly betas and omegas (there are a couple of his brothers n sisters who are also alphas but they are in fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh place- if i ever name his pack I’ll make sure to clarify who is which ranking)

Overall, Tyrone really loves his family, he’d do anything to protect them even if he wanders a lot and doesn’t stay with them the entire time, he does try and visit as often as he can, he knows eventually he’ll track wherever their roaming as well, usually packs stick together but… Given Tyrone’s status and the fact he’s got the birthmark and is high stature his parents are more so lenient with him, they do still worry bout him ofc but still, he was never the type to just sit still, while his other brothers n sisters don’t really care bout leaving the pack he’s ALWAYS been a wandering spirit, so… They’ll let him be free, they’ll still love him nonetheless in the end.

[myhockeyworld87]

Claiming Carl - Zach Aston-Reese

Word Count: 1664

POV: Reader

Warnings: fluff

Notes: This wasn’t requested but @iculyrea​ and I were chatting about this, and well I just decided to write this cute lil piece. Happy Reading!

Once Zach met Tika, the Italian greyhound or Iggy, you knew that the two of you would be getting one. It's all he talked about for weeks before meeting him and all he mentioned thereafter. "Babe, look at this one, he's so cute. Don't you think?"

"He is adorable." You'd agree because honestly, the dog was.

 "We should get him. Don't you think?"

 "I don't know, Zach. A puppy is a huge responsibility and you're gone with hockey so much." It wasn't that you didn't want a dog; you just weren't sure you wanted a puppy. They were so much work, potty training them and having them chew on everything. You just didn't know if you wanted to go through it all with Zach being away so much.

 "But babe, I swear I will do all of that when I'm home. You'd only have to do it during road trips." He grabbed you around the waist and sat you down on his lap in front of the computer. "Just look at him. That sweet little nose and his tiny pink paws, and those eyes, babe they're just begging for you to bring him home."

 Were you seriously considering this? When you looked at the puppy your heart melted a little. Zach rested his head on your shoulder. "Pretty please babe." Ugh, he had you then, hook line and sinker.

 "It says that he'll be available first part of March. What does your schedule look like…"

 "Does that mean we're getting him?" He had you half-turned so that he could see your face.

 "Yes, we can get him." He went to say more but you pressed a finger to his lips. "On the condition, that we start looking for a house. He'll need a yard to run around in, and I won't have him going on the balcony on a pee pad every time he needs to go out."

 "I'm already ahead of you on that." To say you were shocked was an understatement. The two of you had been talking about getting a house for a while now, but hearing that he was actually looking into this was news to you. "I contacted a realtor the other day, there are a couple new developments over by the practice arena that seem like they'd be perfect for us." You spent the next hour looking online at different houses, most of which were new construction.

 The next day Zach was off, you went house hunting, and fell in love with the third one you saw. It was perfect in every way, and even though Zach insisted that you look at the other three places, you'd already made your mind up. At the end of the day, he agreed with you and the two of you were finalizing papers for the sale in two weeks.

 During that time, you packed up the entire apartment for the move while also getting all the necessary things for the new puppy. You got him a cute little collar and leash, while Zach picked out a dog bed that looked so comfortable you could sleep on it. You'd been in the new house for a week before you and Zach went to pick up Carl, the name of the Italian greyhound that you both fell in love with. He was trembling a bit when Zach scooped him up in his arms and he was a lot smaller than you expected.

 "Hi Carl, don't be scared." You said in a soothing voice as you petted your new pup. Zach held him close to his chest and he seemed to calm a bit before you put him in his dog seat in the car. "I'm going to sit in the back with him so he's not frightened."

 "For how hard you made me work to get Carl, you sure seem to have taken to him." Zach teased you.

 "I was never opposed to him per se. It's just all the puppy training, but you're gonna be great at it, aren't you Carl?" He was curled up in his little fluffy seat, his eyes wide as Zach drove to your new home. "Should we keep his name or change it?" In the beginning, the two of you had discussed naming him something different, but now it just didn't feel right.

 "I don't know babe, I kind of like Carl the Iggy."

 "I do too. It just sort of suits him." You snuck Carl a dog treat, that's you packed for him and he gobbled it down. "You're a Carl aren't you boy?" He looked up as you scratched behind his ears and you swore he gave you a smile, but you'd never tell Zach that because he'd make fun of you. In no time you were pulling up into the driveway and taking Carl inside to his new home.

 Carl really didn't know what to do when Zach put him down in the kitchen. His small paws hit the floor and you could hear him patter around the kitchen, just checking things out. Over by the island, you had his dishes filled with food and water and he went over and got a drink. "Oh my gosh Zach, he's just so cute."

 "I knew you'd love him." Between the two of you, you took more pictures and videos of Carl then you knew what to do with over the next couple of days. Which is why Zach decided Carl needed his own Instagram page.

 Carl was doing so well in his new home. He hardly made any messes in the house, in the short week that you had him and he absolutely loved having cuddle time with you and Zach. On a night Zach had free, the two of you decided to watch a movie. You were in the kitchen finishing up the popcorn, while Zach was supposed to be queuing up the movie you'd pick and grabbing the wine, but when you walked into the living room you found him videotaping Carl. Apparently, Zach had thrown your favorite cuddling blanket on the couch before getting the wine and poor little Carl was trying his hardest to make it up on the sofa so he could nuzzle with his mom and dad.

 "Zach," you yelled at your boyfriend. "Help him up. He can't do it by himself."

 "Babe, he'll get it, just wait."

 Carl continued to struggle, clawing at the blanket and practically bringing it down on top of him. The longer he worked on getting on the couch, the angrier you got with Zach for not helping the pup. "Zachary," your voice was stern and it startled Carl, who leaped onto the couch finally.

 "See babe, I told you he'd do it," Zach said smiling at you, to which you just simply rolled your eyes. Setting the popcorn down on the coffee table, you scooted it into the corner of the couch grabbing the blanket while Carl scooched his way into your lap. "Why are you sitting way over there?"

 "Because you were being mean to my baby." Carl for his part just nuzzled close into your neck and you stroked his short fur.

 Zach tugged on your exposed toe. "So I'm not your baby anymore?" A pouty lip coming across his face, while he gave you his own version of puppy dog eyes. God, you had a weakness for this man when he did things like this.

 "I guess you're still my baby too."

 His face lit up, and he crawled over to your side of the couch grabbing your ankle this time. "Mmm…then can you possibly come over here with me?"

 You gave him an exaggerated sigh, followed up with an, "I guess." He propped his right leg up on the couch for you to sit in between his legs, and you did, leaning back against his chest as his one arm wrapped around your waist and the other came up to pet Carl. The three of you watched the movie like that, Carl falling asleep halfway through.

 By the end of the movie, Zach was nodding off as well. "Babe, come on let's go to bed." His grip tightened around you, holding you closer to him.

 "Let's just stay here." You could feel his erection growing as your body pressed against him. He nuzzled the side of your neck peppering you with kisses there, and when you moved your head to give him greater access, you accidentally bumped Carl, reminding you that you still had him in your arms.

 "Zach, stop."

 "Why?"

 "I have Carl, so we can't…" You let your words drift off, knowing he would get the point.

 He groaned. "This is literally the first drawback of having a dog." You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped your lips; your laughter causing Carl to wake. "Oh great now you woke the baby, and we'll never get him back to sleep." The two of you both burst out laughing, causing Carl to look at you strangely. He wiggled and you set him down, and his little feet carried him over to the door to wait for you or Zach to take him out.

 Getting up you handed Zach the leash to take the pup outside. "I believe it's your turn."

 "Ugh, I can't wait till he's older and we can get a dog door. That way he can take himself out and I can take you to bed." He grabbed the leash, giving you a quick kiss as he headed over to Carl.

 "Until then, I'll be waiting for you in the bedroom." You gave him a sly wink before sneaking off down the hall to wait for him. You heard him mumble something to Carl and all you could do was laugh, having a new puppy was definitely going to be a bit of an adjustment.

[lunar-lair]

Alright alright, Mao Mao is cool and I love it, but I've got a few questions:

How did Mao Mao get his tail like,,,off his body? Did it just get hacked off from the pressure? Did he cut it off himself? Did he just pull so hard it like,,,,,snapped???? You can't just snap a fuckin' bone and expect a limb to fall off!!!!!!

Sidenote, my family's cat got like,,,a weird kink or smth in his tail a couple years ago and he was unbalanced for at least half a year. How the fu ck did he figure out how to stand normally without the damn thing? Does he still have problems with it? Does he wobble a fuck ton when he's tired cuz he's used to having his tail? Does he ever just wave the lil stub when he's mad cuz he forgets it's not there anymore? I just wanna fuckin' know!!!!!

How the hell do Mao's hands work. He's got lil cat fingers with pads and all, and yet he has defined fingers with the gloves? Does he just constantly have his claws out?? No, that'd risk them falling off, which happened to my cat once. He just sat around, glaring a lot until I realized and tore it off the rest of the way, and he was really limpy afterwards. A cat wouldn't risk that. Plus, he could accidently scratch Adorabat or smth. Not very safe. So like,,,,an swe rs??????

C,,,,,,can he even hold his sword with his lil paws?? Are those gloves fucking magic?????

Now on to the most...pressing question, I believe:

What the fuck happened to Badgerclops' eye and arm and Adorabat's leg. Adorabat's is especially suspicious, since she lives in a very peaceful area. I mean...I think people are born without limbs but? Idk that,,,,doesn't sound right. I mean, honestly, Parker will probably answer this question specifically. I mean, I didn't even think about Mao Mao's tail, yet he gave us an explanation anyways. So, considering he's probably watching us go '?????' from the sidelines, he'll answer. ...eventually.

[something-tofightfor]

Remind Me (Drabble #12)

Pairing: Sam Adams x Reader

Word Count: 2135

Rating: PG-13? (some mild language and it gets a lil zesty at the end)

Author’s Note: This is  the first time I’ve ever written for Sam Adams, and I hope that I captured the spirit of the setting. Thank you for requesting this, @its-my-little-dumpster-fire ... enjoy your pup and your husband. 

You woke to the sound of a dog barking, each noise echoing through the small farmhouse. Rubbing your eyes, you sat up, feeling a chill in the air that two quilts were guarding you against - but you knew that the touch of your feet on the cold wooden floor would wake you fully. Shaking your head back and forth, you reached over, twisting the knob on the oil lamp at your bedside and sighed. Damn dog. Gritting your teeth, you swung your legs out of bed, pushing yourself to your feet and stepping quickly across the room, feeling your long flannel nightgown brush against your legs. The barking continued and you gripped the railing tightly as you made your way downstairs and into the darkened kitchen. “Rogue, be quiet.” 

 At the sound of your voice, the 14 month old Newfoundland turned his head, a low whine coming from his throat before he turned back to the door, one paw scraping it. The dog had been a gift from your husband, who was spending time traveling back and forth between Boston and Philadelphia, and didn’t want you home completely alone when he couldn’t be with you. Taking the final few steps across the kitchen and unlatching the door, you pulled it open, hoisting the lantern above your head to illuminate as much of the dark yard as possible. You didn’t see movement, didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, and after a few minutes, your breath visible in the chilly air, you shut the door, again locking it. Probably just more deer or foxes. 

 “Come on. You can sleep upstairs with me tonight, Sam’s not here to get mad.” Rogue followed you as you made your way upstairs, pulling the bedroom door shut behind you. As you sat down on the edge of the bed again, replacing the lantern in its previous spot, you closed your eyes sighing. I wish you’d come home, Sam. With a loud whuff, Rogue settled onto the floor next to your side of the bed, head going immediately to his paws. “‘Night, boy.” Laying back down, you pulled the blankets up to your chin and rolled onto your side, closing your eyes as you thought about your husband and the day he’d brought Rogue home - nothing more than a fluffy, wriggling ball with legs. 

--- 

 You and Sam had been married for just under six months, and they had included some of the happiest moments of your life. After the signing of the Declaration of Independence, Sam warned you that things with the British were going to pick up - that they would likely get very dicey, and he hadn’t wanted to waste another moment. You’d married in a simple ceremony in early August, only a few of your friends and family members present, but the second Sam had slid the ring onto your finger and lowered his mouth to yours, kissing you publicly for the first time, it felt like your life started. While he was busy with the other members of the Continental Congress and other war efforts, Sam would sometimes be gone for long periods of time, and so you’d stayed in your family home, waiting - checking the mail each day for news from him, hoping that he’d knock on the front door and surprise you. 

 It was hard being apart, but it was worth it, and a few days after he came home, promising that he’d be home for a while, you’d moved into the home that the two of you would share. Sam had picked it out, not telling you where it was (only a few miles south of Boston proper) or what it looked like until he could show it to you with him by your side. The house was perfect, and Sam had moved in many of his own things already, having some of the local teenagers that weren’t yet old enough to fight prepare the place for you in his absence. “It’s meant to be perfect for you.” Sam stood next to you, one arm around your waist as you stood in the largest room on the main floor, looking around. “I know it’s small, but…”

 “It’s all I need, Sam. All we need. This is perfect for us.” You turned to face your husband, smiling up at him. “Can we stay here tonight?” He’d nodded, the expression on his face serious. 

 “Yes, of course. But I have one more surprise for you.” Curious, you’d allowed him to take your hand and lead you back to the porch, where he instructed you to wait for him. You watched as Sam walked across the yard, disappearing into the small barn and returning only a few moments later, something fluffy in his arms. As he got closer to you, your heart raced, eyes going wide. “I wanted to be sure that you wouldn’t be alone when I need to leave.” Sam licked his lips, eyes full of love as he looked down at what he carried and then back at you. “He’s going to be very large, so he’ll protect you when I cannot.” 

 “Sam?” You covered your mouth with a hand, eyes widening. “For me?” He nodded, and you reached out, taking the puppy from Sam’s arms without another sound. It opened its eyes as it switched hands, and you gasped as you watched the puppy yawn, pink tongue lolling out of its mouth. “What’s its name?” Sam stepped closer, his hand stroking down the puppy’s side for a few seconds before he spoke. 

 “It is a boy. And his name is whatever you’d like it to be.” You looked down at the long haired black puppy -  now struggling in your arms, quiet yips leaving his mouth as he nipped at your fingers. I have an idea. You grinned and looked up at Sam through your lashes. 

 “Should we name him Rebel? That’s what they always called you, right?” Sam laughed, stepping closer still and putting his arms around you, urging you to rest your cheek against his chest. 

 “They did. Are you sure you want to have that kind of reminder, though? Those days are over for me.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, pausing. “I’m a married man now.” 

 “Those days will never be over for you, Samuel Adams. Just because you’re married… that’s laughable.You’re my rebel now” You looked back down at the dog, thinking. “But you’re right, maybe we shouldn’t call him Rebel, that might encourage him to behave like you.” Sam laughed again, pulling you closer and holding you tightly. 

 “I am yours now, but to be truthful I believe I always was.” Sam reached up with one hand, tilting your chin up and forcing you to look at him, his brown eyes intent on your face. “And as for the dog? Whatever you’d like to call him, he’s all yours, too.”

--- 

The name Rogue had come to you a day later, as you watched the puppy tear around the partially frozen front yard, snapping at the leaves that still littered the ground. It suited him, and Sam agreed. As the months passed and the dog grew, he both grew into and away from his name, preferring the company of you and Sam to that of others. He listened, but his large size was destructive, and you lost count of the times that he knocked chairs over or sent pillows crashing to the floor, spilled his food dish or even dug into the yard with his large paws. It was all worth it, though, for nights like the ones where he woke you up with his barking, wanting to alert you to potential danger, or simply for the comfort he provided as you worked in the yard or read by the light of the lantern before bed.

 As you drifted off to sleep, you smiled, thinking that you’d write to Sam the following day, reminding him that Rogue was doing his job and protecting you and the house well, just as intended. Goodnight, Sam. I love you. 

 The April air was warm on your face as you hung the wash from the line the following day. Rogue tore around the yard, seeming to purposely find the muddiest spots and you found yourself laughing at him, knowing full well that you would have to wash him off before allowing him back inside. As you finished with the laundry, you composed a letter to Sam in your head, smiling as you thought about the things you wanted to tell him. Sharp barks from Rogue drew your attention to the edge of the yard and the wooden fence that Sam had built with some help from friends the previous summer. “Rogue, quiet!” Pushing a sheet to the side so that you could see what he was barking at, your eyes widened as you saw the dog standing on his back legs, paws on the top rung of the fence and a lone figure walking up the road toward you. “Sam!?” 

 Dropping the rest of the clothing back in the basket, you lifted your skirts and ran across the yard, undoing the latch on the gate and bolting through it, feet moving faster once they hit the hard-packed surface of the road. “You’re home?” Rogue was still barking behind you but you paid no attention, eyes focused on the tall man in front of you, growing closer by the second. “I was going to write to you!” You heard his laugh, saw the way his lips parted to show off his teeth and then your arms were around him, face buried in his neck. 

 “I missed you,” he breathed, arms tight around you. “I came home as soon as I could.” Hearts beating quickly, you stood in the center of the road holding each other for what felt like hours. He smelled like the outdoors and clean sweat with a hint of the perfume that had been used to store his clothes, and it was a definite change from the way he’d constantly smelled when you met him: smoke and gunpowder and a hint of booze. Either way, it was a mixture of scents that was uniquely Sam, and you’d take him however you could get him. Sam pushed you away gently, one hand coming up to your cheek, the hardened pad of his thumb moving across your lips as he stared at you. “I missed you so much.” 

 “Then show me how much, Sam.” It was as much a request as a challenge, and Sam knew it, a slow smile spreading across his face as he nodded his head. He kissed you, lips soft and warm and so very welcome after long months of dreaming of them, and you sighed into his mouth. Sam deepened the kiss, hands sliding down to your waist as he pulled you flush against him, hip to hip. You lifted your left hand the back of his head, fingers moving through his hair, which has gotten longer in his absence until you reached the ends, which you tugged on gently. Sam groaned, hands moving even lower as he whispered your name, lips moving from your mouth to your jaw and then down the side of your neck, finally settling on your throat. 

 “We should go inside,” he said, the warmth of his breath raising goosebumps on your skin. Sam spoke as he continued to pepper kisses against your collarbone, just exposed above the neckline of your dress. “We have a lot of time to make up for, and if you keep pulling my hair like that, I’m going to do something indecent on this road.” You laughed, giving his hair one more tug - this time with both hands - as you brought his eyes back to your face. “I really did miss you.” Sam’s voice turned serious and he shook his head back and forth slowly, his grip on you tightening. Me too. You nodded, a hand sliding forward, nails scratching through the thick stubble on his cheek. I like this look. “And I was serious.” Sam paused, tongue poking into his cheek, one eyebrow raised. “We need to get in that house as quickly as possible, so I can spend the rest of the day in bed with my wife, otherwise I might just have my way with you in the yard.” 

 “The bed is much more comfortable, Samuel Adams.” Teasing him, you turned and began walking toward the house - laundry forgotten. “Or have you forgotten?” He caught up with you as you reached the porch, hands wrapping around your waist from behind as he nuzzled his face against your neck, beard scratching against your skin as he gifted you with one kiss after another. 

 “Maybe. I think I need you to remind me.” 

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