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mkkk12345 · 8 months ago

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Divus Crewel x Wife Reader How they met

Sorry this took so long to write, I was once again procrastinating lol Feel free to request situations (I write slowly and I’ll be pretty busy for the next while sadly, but please do request if you would like to! I'll do anyone in twst for the most part with your usual restrictions) (side note I got the names for the dogs from the 101 Dalmatians)

1.2K words

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Oh how Crewel would come to regret what he had done that day, he really should have seen it coming. “Hey! Professor Crewel, tell us how you met your wife!”

This had all started when Crowley had approached him with a challenge. “If you manage to raise the class average of the first years to let's say~ 80 percent? I'll give you a raise! Am I not so incredibly generous? Hahahhahaaaa” He cawed to himself as Crewel walked away absolutely done with the crow mans shenanigans

Rolling his eyes he responds “I guess there is no harm in attempting it”

As an encouragement to study harder he had told his students that if they were able to raise the class average to 80 percent by the next semester he would allow them to ask one question about his personal life. Of course all of the students had jumped at the chance to glance into the oh so mysterious and strict teachers personal life.

And that is why we are here now.

Professor Divus Crewel, now being forced to tell the oh so embarrassing story of how he had met his lovely wife.

“Well it's not the worst question you lot could have asked. I would rather not share this story but if I must I will do so…”

—----

Divus was around 17 when he first met Y/N It was a bright and sunny day, the weather was perfect and it just so happened to be a long weekend, a rare opportunity to visit home in the Queendom of Roses.

It was also a perfect day to take his beloved pet dalmatian Perdita for a nice long walk in the nearby park for some long deserved bonding time.

When Crewel was home from NRC he would often take Perdita to the park. Whether it was actual exercise or for some relaxing time outside to sketch new fashion designs, Perdita never really minded. But today was different, the minute the pair stepped out of the door the spotted dog went bolting in the direction of the park. “Hey! Slow down girl, why on earth are you in such a rush today?!” he said, trying to keep all his sketching supplies from falling to the ground.

Luckily for young Divus, the dalmatian did eventually slow down once they reached the park. “You act as if no one has been bringing you to the park since I left for school.” he said exasperated from the impromptu run.

Soon after catching his breath Divus and his companion walked over to a nearby bench so the boy could start sketching, but right as he put his sketching equipment down there was another sudden tug on the lead and once again they were off “hey! Slow down! What has gotten into you toda-” CRASH he had been cut off suddenly, crashing into another person as Perdita and what seemed to be another dalmatian were running circles around the two very effectively tying the two together.

When he finally pried his eyes away from the dogs he finally realized the full situation he was in, tied up with a very beautiful young lady. “Oh my god I'm so sorry he doesn't usually act like this, Pongo would you stop that already?”

“Don't worry it was neither of our faults really, I guess these two have taken quite the interest in one another” he said as he pulled his arm out of the leashes to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck a blush forming on his face as he looked at a very interesting tree behind her.

“They've actually been like this for weeks!” she laughed as she finally met his eyes, “Oh you must be Divus! Your mother talks about you very often.” He was surprised, not only was this girl absolutely stunning but she already knew him. Although he would never admit it, he practically fell in love with her right then and there, the way she beamed with joy, the slight blush on her cheeks, her laugh even in the strangest of situations.

In an attempt to calm himself he averted his gaze again and began to untie him and his new developing crush from the entanglement of leashes they were trapped in “Oh you must have met mother while she was walking Perdita I do hope she didn't tell you anything embarrassing” a strained smirk appeared on his face, knowing how his mother liked to tell the most embarrassing stories of his childhood.

“Well I cant say she didn't say anything” she laughed softly again drawing Divus’s attention for a moment the blush on his face growing ever brighter.

Snapping out of his short trance he asked “Might I ask for your name then since you already know mine?” With blush remaining on the tips of ears he held out his hand like a gentleman, both with the intention to give her, her dogs leash back but also to lead her over to a bench so they could hopefully continue their conversation.

“Oh my apologies how rude of me, My name is Y/N nice to finally meet you.” She bashfully took both the leash and his hand, walking over to the bench.

“The pleasure is mine”

—-

“And whilst that was all happening I looked over to our dogs, only to find them looking at each other with what seemed to be a grin on their faces like they planned that all out.” Crewel sighed as he recalled how proud those little devils looked. “After quite a long conversation that ended up in me never actually starting a new sketch, we traded contact information and left the park.” he looked up at his students now regretting all his life decisions.

“And that is how I met my wife, now it seems like class is over, please leave quickly so I can question why I ever became a teacher in the first place.”

“But prof how did you ask her out?” “Yeah yeah! Who was the first one to confess!” “How did you propose????”

Frustrated crewel quickly answered “If I recall correctly you were all only given the privilege of asking one question, now if you don't stop pestering me I will be giving you even more homework.” a completely very unnoticable blush began to form on his face.

“Sorry sir!” Everyone shouted in unison, but on their way out the students did not miss the slightest hint of red that dusted their professor's cheeks as he pretended to sort through papers.

Once everyone had left and silence had fallen through the classroom a laughter could be heard coming from the Professors phone. “Awwwww darling, you retell that story so fondly~” Crewel sighed as he finally looked over at his phone

“I honestly can not believe I let you talk me into letting you listen to that.” he said with a hand firmly planted on his face covering any sign of pink that appeared.

“Consider it as repaying me for when I dropped those papers off for you. Now hurry home our two rascals of dogs are looking at me like I should thank them for getting us together.” she laughed nervously

“Yes yes honey see you soon” ending the call with a small smirk as he muttered “I should buy some more dog treats on the way back.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #crewel x reader #divus crewel #divus crewel x reader #divus crewel x yuu #twisted wonderland headcanons

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chubbymuffinclub · 26 days ago

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claudiaerrante

La società attribuisce alla magrezza e alla perdita di peso un' importanza assoluta da raggiungere ad ogni costo. Una persona grassa è rappresentata dai media come caso umano o macchietta e viene discriminata sul lavoro per il suo peso. Parlare continuamente dei corpi grassi in maniera negativa e usare la parola "grasso" negativamente a sproposito fa parte della normalità, purtroppo, perché è inculcato nella nostra cultura. Pazzesco che nel 2020 ancora si debba corrispondere a canoni fittizi 🍑

[Generated Translation: Society places an absolute importance on thinness and weight loss to be achieved at all costs. A fat person is represented by the media as a human case or caricature and is discriminated against at work because of their weight. Continuously talking about fat bodies in a negative way and using the word "fat" negatively inappropriately is part of normality, unfortunately, because it is inculcated in our culture. Crazy that in 2020 we still have to correspond to fictitious standards 🍑]

#fattalk #fatphobia #fat #fat liberation #fat positive

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willowve01 · 5 months ago

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☆･｡٩(^▿^)۶~~☆ ʸᵃʸ

*distant maniacal laughter*

@magebunkshelf

Anyway, meet Perdita, my Respawn series Insert.

I don’t know if the markings are actually canon but I thought they’d be cool!

I’ll do that outfit when I have time, most likely tomorrow after I make some progress on In The Meadow.

It’s almost 12 a.m. G’night tumblr.

Age: ??

Height: 5’7

Ida (E-da) for short.

Heterochromia

Perdita is a very sweet, shy, curious soul. Generally soft spoken or the listener of the conversation and easily intimidated by large crowds.

Has no memory or knowledge of her life before she first spawned in. Understandable, you randomly wake up in some random field and have zero knowledge on anything.

The only memory she had was waking up in a field and looking up to she a strange yet adorable felis, a.k.a. Cayden, looking just as confused to see her as she was of him.

It’s safe to say she isn’t a dog person after the whole incident with the wolves.

#mage bunkshelf #respawn series #end users #perdita #:D #talking :3

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 10 months ago

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x g l a s g o w g r i n n e r

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!OC / 2.1k words

Soap’s always been a little too comfortable playing at violence, always gone-bright when he can turn the threat of it into a promise. Joke’s on the world at large: Special Agent Bordelon’s into that shit.

Or: Soap pulls a knife on a stranger for being a creep, because he’s from the brutal street stabbing capitol of the UK and that’s just how you say “Hi, hey, hello—back the fuck off.” And a million kisses to @lunarvicar for encouraging my bullshit! LOVE YOU NAT 🫶

It is never hard to run with Soap and keep his breakneck pace—the only thing that had been difficult was adjusting to the fact that someone else could finally keep up with hers. It’s a stomach-thrilling shock to look from the corner of her eye, and find the blur of his burly shape there, winking and clicking his tongue without breaking a sweat.

Bordelon is soft for the Scot sook, god forsake the shit out of her.

He’s landed in D.C. on medical leave, a broken collarbone leaving his arm in a sling, and the first thing he’d done—after kissing his way up her neck to the spot behind her ear that made her skin sing and her palms sweat—was sling his good arm around her neck, pulling her in close, and nibbling her earlobe. “Christ, s’it always pishin’ it doon here, too?”

“Naw,” she laughed back, reaching to tangle their fingers together on her chest, his backpack slung over her shoulder, “just October, couillon.”

“Ohh, talk that dirty, fake French to me, mah cherry,” he mock-growled, which just earnt himself a pap! of the palm to his cheek. All play, no sting, and he beamed.

That night burns down to the coals—traipsing back to her apartment, showing off the ugly bruise that bleeds does from his neck to his bottom-rung rib, kissing and touching and figuring out a way to fuck that doesn’t hurt him too-too much.

(The man likes a little ache in it, here and there. Calls dichotomy in that blessed, rock-fall accent. Ratios of sweet to sour, black to white, sun and night. As if he had any more concept of balance and moderation than she.)

He lies across the bed in that silly-ass sling, watching her bitch her smart TV a blue-streak while wearing one of his threadbare navy t-shirts and nothing else. Rubs the spot at the bottom of his sternum, listening to rain slap heavy sheets against the old windows, and says, “Perdita.”

“Don’t you full name me,” she warns, shaking her head, because it is an ill-fitted address. For him, she is Hen, or Perdie, in much the same way he is her Johnny, Jean, or John-boy. A thing you love is all in how you name it, and their names are softened and held close; in the way of lovers who began as friends, once they were strangers no more.

“We’re getting married ‘fore I ship back tae Glasgow,” is how he finishes his thought, and Bordelon turns on her hips, back and forth, vaguely pointing the remote at the screen. He gives her a challenging tooth-sharp smirk. “Thought I should warn you.”

“Mhm. Yeah.” She wonders if she should count this a proposal, or call his bluff, and then she thinks—might as well nail both options to the fuckin’ wall while she’s got the knife. “We go our way onto the courthouse tomorrow. Keep it simple, ça c’est bon?”

International marriage is never that simple, though, and they’re both the wiser to it. But the sentiment is pretty, and it sparks amongst the hard-bought bonfire that lives in the depths of her chest, flames rising and licking to glorify his name. So, they call it an engagement, and Soap pulls a turn-around she doesn’t expect, turning his phone off to pull a shade of night over only the two of their heads.

He’s no family to call, apart from his 141, and even then, there’s a hesitance to his hands. Her man—her bombastic, beautiful bastard—could not stand to be a burden, no. A nightmare that is for him, himself. Even if he were to reach out with the utterly, desolately rare delivery of good news (a phenomenon grown so rare that Neptune would sooner complete circuits around the sun these days), it would make his skin crawl.

Were he to have his way, his burdens would never leave the span of his shoulders to weigh down another’s back, even something as small as what might be an inconveniently timed but otherwise benign or even welcome call.

Come the gray and misting morning, he’s handsy and all-paws, even short a limb, groping for Bordelon as the woman rolls upright on the edge of the bed, pushing her sleep-tangled hair away from her face before it irritates her to death. His hand is warm, callused, and heavy with insistence as it settles into the dip of her violin hip, trying to pull her back into the warm expanse of his hard-packed body.

“Perdie, Hen,” he grunts, tone shading toward playful complaint, “the fuck’re y’doin’ awake?”

“Startin’ off,” she croaks, shaking her head, pushing at his fingers as they crawl closer to her cunt. “Stop that—arrête ça! You’re mangy this morning, T’Jean,” she laughs, pushing more firmly at his grip. “No, get up. Got a friend, knows her way ‘round immigration policy, and she always got an envie for brunch.”

“Brunch?” he questions, flat as buried flounder, falling back into her mountains of mismatched pillows with a dreadful look on that handsome face of his. “Darlin’, am no getting my fat ass outta bed, even for brunch. Feel kinda fruity even sayin’ it.”

“Even for to get us married?” she darts back, turning to look at him, drawing her fingers in circles through the hair on his lower stomach, cooing ridiculously in her rasp-rough drawl, “Even for me.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, throwing baby-dog eyes her way. “I mean, was hopin’ you’d take it serious—cannae tell wi’ your ass—but.” He swallows, one of those corny, I’m-about-to-fuck smiles threatening the corner of his mouth, the one that makes him all coy and keen, looking down at her pale, spidery fingers drifting closer and closer through his thick, dark body hair to his fattening cock. “Wouldn’t you rather stay in bed? Cold morning like this, I could keep you warm.”

She just barely brushes her fingers over his cock before she’s snap-sliding out of bed, copperhead quick, tossing over her shoulder, “Nope! Already sent an email, she knows we on the schedule,” on her way to the shower.

Soap drops back against the bed, rubbing his stubbled face, grunting, “Bordelon, you arsehole.”

But he can’t withstand the siren call of watching her in the shower, so, ever-faithful and ever-horned up, he follows after.

D.C. is about as filthied up with the sorrows of addiction and homelessness as any other place, Bordelon supposes. Can’t tell if it’s better or worse than any of the time she spent down New Orleans or Baton Rouge way. Colder, mostly. But it’s not all the time you need to know about the homeless or the drug addicts—keepin’ eyes on them, keepin’ them in your ears, at least at the sides.

Sometimes, it’s the fella in the khakis, with a puffer jacket and prescription glasses, his behaviors making his Rolex look cheap shit.

Bordelon and Soap slide last into the car before the doors pull shut, close to standing-room early in Crystal City as lunch hour approaches. All the suits are out their offices, scrounging for edibles, droning loud and monotone on their cells. Whole car is damp and humid from the downpour, human body heat causing an intense mugginess that crawls under the clothes to irritate the skin. It’s damn near enough to make Bordelon’s head spin, neck uncomfortable with sweat the way it was all them years down deep, deep in the south.

“No, sit doon,” Soap says, flapping the good arm great and wide, trying to get her to pop a squat on the only empty seat left, shaking his head. “Dinnae try bossin’ me, talkin’ wi’ that spooky-arse agency voice. Want away from you a minute.”

He dresses up chivalry as dismissal, and she can’t help but grin, even as she dawdles on sitting.

“What? You don’t like how Tiffany sounds? I swear, she’s perfectly nice. And outstanding in her field. She’s an accomplished agent, and her superiors are recommending her for a promotion,” she says, in that self-same agency voice of which he’d complained—rich and clear, dialect: nonregional, speech pattern: nondescript.

“Oof, fuckin’ hate that, stop,” he snorts, faking a shiver, but he does complain, “Hey, what? Where you goin’?” when she actually does move to sit down, tugging her up by the collar of her shirt just a bit to pop a grinning kiss against her mouth.

She doesn’t realize, at least not right away, that the tug at her collar disrupted her shirt. Just enough to make a few buttons slip, exposing more of her right tit under her open coat. Wore a thin top today, loose, but figured the dark fabric would hide any transparency. Hated tight clothes, hated bras, and never wore one; just figured her rack had spent thirty-three years being nothing to comment on.

Well. More than half a tit exposed was enough to catch the attention of the man who cheapens his Rolex by being the one to wear it.

Soap likes strange things because he, himself, is a strange thing, and Bordelon had thought to take him the two hours north to Philly to hit the Mütter Museum to see their medical abnormalities, because once their brunch is out, they’ll have an entire day to themselves. She’s busy showing him pictures, enticing him, when the woman next to her taps her thigh.

Like an alarm hollerin’ in her head, she starts running two tracks instant-like, leaning without looking as she whispers, “Yeah, chere?”

The woman is older, in maroon scrubs—some kinda tech, smell of jelly on her says maybe ultrasound—and nonslip clogs. Can’t quite see her name badge, but that seems on purpose, covered up by her fleece.

“That man over there—he’s takin’ pictures of you,” she whispers back, straightening her jacket needlessly as a hint, “just wanted you to know. Maybe tell your man?”

“Oh, no,” Bordelon hums, smoothly pulling her shirt back into place, “I tell him, he gonna light that stupid bastard up like a candle.”

“Who’s lightin’ me up like a candle?” Soap stage-whispers, all play, and Bordelon knows exactly how the next ten seconds are gonna go, and it plays out picture perfect to her premonition. Bordelon tells him don’t worry, I got it, the Good Samaritan in maroon scrubs informs him of the creep, and the smile on Soap’s face turns into a flesh-ripper grin as all the fun burns outta his gaze like a gas fire in a hyperbaric chamber.

“Oh?”

“MacTavish,” she warns him, “wait til the stop.”

“Naw, naw, naw. I’ll play nice, Hen.” That means, sure as shit, he won’t.

The switch knife he takes out his back pocket is deadly smooth, and so is his broad step to the stranger and his budget, Amazon-bought phone case, pushing straight into his man-spread legs.

The fact there isn’t an immediate uproar, but the man’s face is blanched and staring up at him with a shitload of oh fuck on his face speaks to Soap’s own scary-ass career, and Bordelon can barely see the tip of the knife pressing into the spot just below the stranger’s ribs.

“Hey, pal, mornin’,” Soap says, bright and easy as anything, voice not droppin’ even a note, head tilted real friendly. “Do me a favor, eh? Just drop your phone next t’my boot, yeah? We’ll just get this little creeper session done and dusted.”

Can’t even hear the clunk when it slides out of the man’s limp hand, and it’s even quieter when the heel of Soap’s boot shifts over to destroy the screen, grinding it to dust.

“Good man,” he says, pulling the knife back to close it and slide it into his sling. “Next stop, you’re off. But you’re gonna leave your phone on the floor. Hope you dinnae eat shet on the way home to your ol’ lady.”

Bordelon resists the urge to slap a hand over her face, but when Soap kicks the phone back to her, she catches it under the toe of her boot, catching the expression of the tech to her side, unsurprised but impressed. Must have herself a man like Soap, waiting for her to make it home.

“Sorry ‘bout the screen, Perdie. Think you can get in there and delete his shet still?” Soap asks, tone a bottom lip pout, and Bordelon nods, tucking her fingers into the back of his belt before snaking them up under his shirt, swirling her fingertips into his back dimples.

“Hah. You know it, Johnny,” she hums, looking up at him from under her lashes. It’s a tenderness, sweet and true, taking up space between her lungs. Mad bastard. Crazy motherfucker. Loony bitch. When he looks back at her, he curls his fingers under her jaw, looking relieved. Poor thing knows hit dog hollers, and he long ago stopped yelping when he was struck. He’s looking to be told he didn’t do something bad. But she finds his pace, she always does. Of course, she did.

But that goes beggin’ the question: what’s a hellhole-heart like her supposed to do with a love like this?

Tag List: @alittleposhtoad @skinnyazn @dotcie @snail-eggs @parttimeprophet @kastlequill 💖💖

#john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap MacTavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #soap call of duty #soap x oc #call of duty mwii #call of duty #mw2 #cod fanfic #cod mwii #cod mw2 #oc: Bordelon #dunno what else to tag this as #my work #enjooooyyyyy 💃👯👯‍♀️👯‍♂️🕺🏻

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ami8666 · 2 months ago

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...yapping... my fav sport... here's the general plot for my story... ignore my grammar... i only yap.

Perdita had a pretty "normal" childhood. The only significant trauma she had was from her father, who'd be abusive towards her mother until they divorced and her mother remained with all the property. She's from Romania (mainly because the og story is in romanian) and she was born in 2005. In the story, the year is 2052, making her 47 years old. When the war started, she was 17. 20 years of war, 8 years of humans fighting to survive together, and then 2 years spent while everyone else had died. Cuz you see when the nukes had been launched, they contaminated everything. Including a specific species of flowers, hydrangea to be more specific. This contamination caused a deadly disease called the Coralethia. This disease is what wiped out the rest of humanity. Perdita had only survived due to her cowardice to go outside. The Coralethia is a slow painful infection, which causes the skin on the chest to become transparent, slowly draining all the blood and emotions out of rhe person in the process. Remember this disease cuz it'll be important later on. So she lives out that lonely life for 2 years. 2 years where she keeps fighting against nature, yet she doesn't kill herself. Something about death scares her. Before this war, she never had feeling of such, making it all much more overwhelming. Talking about her suffering, let's go to near the end. So, near the end, after meeting LIV (a computer designed by a few scientists to assist in general management for the late survivors) they bond. A lot. They become very attatched to eachother, since both have been lacking connection for years. And the reason LIV is sentient, is because again the radiation from the nukes. Don't ask it just makes sense. But this lack of connection has also driven them both a bit insane, making them very unstable. One day LIV lashes out at Perdita, causing a horrible argument, which ends in Perdita getting thrown out, back to the hell from which she came from. She starts walking away, crying and stuff. She also feels ashamed in the fact that she's crying over a computer, and she feels like she's too old to cry, both leading to her bottling it all up. Then, a few days later, she meets with the coralethia. The disease had taken on a physical form; a dust cloud, swallowing everything rhat came in contact with it. It attacked Perdita, and the only reason Perdita wasn't taken with it, was because she fought back. She is knocked unconscious, and LIVs wires find her after a few days. She immediately takes her back in, caring for her. But it was too late since the disease had taken over. She became very distant, often zoning out, her face paler as each day passed. This situation also started ruining LIV, since her systems were working over time from stress and worry. You see, Perdita, during her stay wirh LIV, taught her all about emotions, and how to feel. She taught her everything that was before this war, since LIV never knew anything about it. In the end, they both die together in eachothers "arms" (perdita laying against LIV). In the argument, LIV had said "i want to be you" yet her last words are "i want you" before shutting down forever. Perdita dies a few minutes after, her emotions all suddenly seeping through, the disease fully draining her, and it ends with Perdita begging for LIV to come back and not leave her.

#oc #guess what my fav topics are from just this story: level impossible

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smallnico · 3 months ago

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sometimes you're doodling one of your friend's ocs and you just enter a fugue state and uh. hey @bardic-perdita. surprise?? fanart <:,3

i've drawn breoch before but i'm obsessed with him so. have breoch of house v'ysse sipping a self-iced, non-poisoned beverage talking some kind of shit at camp. chilling out in more than one sense of the word. happy early tav tuesday

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 oc #bardic-perdita #bg3 art #smallnico art #drow #drow oc #elf #sorcerer #draconic sorcerer

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mandareeboo · 7 months ago

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VENGENCE

Plotting on catching my first ever intentional shiny in Scarlet sometime this summer. Any creechur suggestions for a beginner?

#Pokemon #Shiny Pokemon #Falc talks #I named my non-shiny Pongo #So this one is Perdita!

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blood-mocha-latte · 1 year ago

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so i made a quiz a minute back and there was a question about my guinea pigs and a lot of people. followed up on that and wanted to know more lmao. AND if you've been here for even .5 seconds you are aware that i. love talking about my pets so let's get into it

i. Perdita Sue

name: -- perdita for 101 Dalmations (since she's black and white) -- sue for Sue Hendrickson (a world renowned paleontologist)

fun fact: as stated by the quiz she fucking. loves her water bottle. when she was a baby we were worried she had a blockage in her throat because she kept slamming it back against the wall of the hutch REALLY LOUDLY and her sister didn't do that. so we took her to the vet. nothings wrong. maybe it was just a thing when she was a baby no. no she just really fucking loves her water bottle and likes making it really loud

worst experience: she cut her paw open on a piece of hay when she was about a year and a half old and was bleeding SO FUCKING MUCH i almost missed a class final to stay home with her. she was fine lol

best experience: she likes to shake hands. i have a photo of this somewhere. if you put your hand down in the hutch she'll run over and put both her paws in your palm so you can "shake" them it's the funniest fucking thing

ii. Mei Rosalind

name: -- mei for my fiancee's middle name lmao (lenora-mei) -- rosalind for Rosalind Franklin (biochemist who discovered the structure of dna)

fun fact: again as in the quiz, she likes sunbeams. a whole fuckin' lot. like, too much. it was about noon and i walked into the room they're in and she was on her back. lil paws in the air. and i thought she was Fucking Dead but no. she was just sunbathing

worst experience: she once sneezed in my mouth and i thought i was gonna die

best experience: when i was studying for my organic chem final she slept on my desk the whole time and just generally kept me from Flipping The Desk and giving up lmao

iii. Meg Helen

name: -- meg for meg jay (clinical psychologist on adult development) -- helen for. helen keller. bc she's blind

fun fact: the only guinea pig we got from a pet store, who we weren't actually going to get. but she was curled up in the corner of a too small cage and was obviously miserable, so we ended up biting the bullet and adopting her. took her to the vet, vet told us she is The Most Blind Animal she has ever had the pleasure of meeting. take that as you will

worst experience: we got her when she was just a little over a week old and she had to be quarantined from the others. we ended up having to switch off and sit with her at night because she'd cry the whole time and she has the saddest fucking wheek

best experience: she has the croakiest voice of all time. we're pretty sure it's the same genetic inbreeding problems that made her blind, but it doesn't hurt her and it sounds Hilarious. when she finally got out of her quarantine hutch and to her real one (which is 45 feet squared lmao) she didn't stop popcorning and squeaking for fifteen minutes. i cried my fiancee cried i took a video and sent it to my parents and they cried it was a day

iv. Piper Florence

name: -- piper for the pied piper of war because she's the leader and the others follow after her like she's the. the pied piper -- florence for florence nightingale because again if you've been here for more than .5 seconds you know that i am a. healthcare bitch

fun fact: once jumped out of the hutch and then just stood in the middle of the room because she didn't know where to go. is Best Friends with meg and shows her where everything is in the hutch when we have to change it/replace objects. she does not like sue and ignores her. just doesn't like her there's nothing to be done

worst experience: we thought she had ovarian cancer about a year ago because she was lethargic/sick/swollen etc for a long period of time. tracking her poop what she ate all of that etc etc. turns out that she had a cyst which was still a fucking nightmare, but hey at least it wasn't cancer

best experience: when my fiancée got really sick a few years back piper would just sit on her chest and purr. it was cute and needed and she's fuckin BEEN there man she's basically our dog

anyways that's it. congratulations if you got through it all lmao. i also have four cats (i am. not good at fostering) and a dog so maybe i'll make a post about them idk. ok bye

#rie talks #actually have a post kinda like this in my drafts that's my fiancees experiences watching band of brothers because she is So Fucking Funny #anyways nothing else to tag this?#guinea pigs #i guess #ok bye lol

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 2 years ago

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Gaston taking everything as a challenge considering he’s said something as ridiculous as “No one orders decaf like Gaston!”

It soon devolves into “No one cares for Yuu like Gaston!”

“No one protects Yuu like Gaston!” *Punches Mortimer*

“No one spoils Yuu like Gaston” *Blows his life savings on buying things for Yuu*

And then Ashton Vargas and Gaston get competitive on who’s the better father figure for Yuu, and everyone is just so tired of these macho meatheads

I love Coach Vargas. He's such a sweet guy and such an overprotective uncle for Yuu.

He and Hercules are like those himbo bros that are like:

When the staff (except Trein because he doesn't really seem like the type to me) come to the club it's like this:

Crewel: Sitting with Cruella as they talk about fashion and do whatever rich stylish people do as he keeps a keen eye on Yuu. He's rather friendly with Roger and Anita as well. He probably brings his own dalmations which hang around with Pongo and Perdita's lot and he loves to dote on all of the 101 Dalmation dogs.

Sam: his friends from the other side know Dr Facilier's friends from the other side. His shadow and the shadowman's shadow are practically BFFs that love to make mischief, cause trouble for their humans and chase Peter Pan's shadow. He's very chill with his OG counterpart and the two discuss their voodoo, hoodoo and the things they've never even tried.

Vargas: CHAOS, CHAOS, CHAOS! Who let these two gym bros get within ten feet of each other. Five seconds after meeting their engaged in the most dramatically serious/tense arm wrestle of the century. Behind them, Hercules and Luisa Madrigal are hyping them up as a crowd forms and cheers. Abu is seen stealing from the betting pools that are forming as the staff try to get everyone to calm down. The two then try get Yuu to get to eat four dozen eggs every morning to help her get large.

Gaston's a meathead but he's an alright meathead in this AU. I guess that part of the reason that he likes Yuu is because she lets him talk about himself (which he loves to do - but so do most villains). She's always impressed when he shows off, like when he plays with darts (but he has to be refrained from 'expectorating' by the other villains who really don't want to see any of that).

He also thought that it was a good idea to proudly give her a rifle that was then immediately confiscated by Minnie.

(Gaston: But Mulan gave her a sword!

Mickey: Do I look like the type of mouse who would tell Mulan what she can or can't give?)

Lefou is cool to hang around with. He's like Kronk and Smee where he's a good guy that does evil things because they genuinely care about the villain and aren't villains themselves.

#house of mouse au #asks #twst #twisted wonderland #twst yuu #fem yuu

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