#pitbull red nose

[palepinkgoat]

Anyone else have a pitbull? I hope Ian and Mickey have one by now. They are the cutest dogs ever. Here’s Alvin.

[eric9794]

December drawings part 1

[tamakishoochie]

Skrill got herself a nigga or whatever 🗿

(Skrill is my persona btw. I don’t think I ever introduced her here lol)

[nkirusewell]

Fiooooooona

[voiceofvoiceless74]

[sala-samobojcow]

[blueoceansunrises]

Welcome to Gracie’s world

[adnerb1995]

[thepettale]

Red Nose Pitbull: 7 Facts About This Cool Breed(JUNE 2023)

When it comes to dog breeds, the Red Nose Pitbull often evokes strong feelings and diverse opinions. These beautiful creatures have faced their fair share of misconceptions and stereotypes, but beneath the exterior is a loyal, affectionate, and intelligent companion. Read more

[leviathanoccult]

My favorite little lady, Moonshine 💜

[childrenofcain-if]

Fuuuckk! *Throws some angst for W*

Childhood Friends to lovers are really my weaknesses when it comes to stories and I am left just craving for more when I see this trope because most of the time it's just never executed right. Forgotten Childhood Friend with the other pining for MC, while MC (can) remain obvious 👀👀👀 Now that's a great setting for angst if I ever saw one!

Because in a scenario where MC has a trinket, a stuffed toy, a keychain, and W sees it and freezes, because it's the same one they gave MC years ago. MC mistakes it for interest and tells them "Oh, I don't really know where I got this from but it looks cute, don't you think?"

Just *ASDFGHJKL* What would be their reaction? Because MC still kept something that symbolizes their time together. But on the other hand! MC forgot about them and only kept the trinkets!

Also crying over this song that reminds me of W. The story within the song is different but the longing and yearning is there that rips my fucking heart out. I could not find the song cover that I really liked on YouTube so, here's one that seems close.

https://youtu.be/YiVpWPkbdPY?si=R2csRdrSsRFsO9K6

Also I can't wait for Sept 22! So excited to play the demo!

the moment W spotted the red muppet, everything about them stilled—their breath, their posture, the casual air they usually carried around you. their hand froze mid-motion as they’d been reaching for something else, but now their fingers hovered above the clumsily stitched muppet, their gaze glued to it as if the sight had transported them somewhere else.

the stuffed elmo sat on the dresser, slouched and frayed at the edges, its stitched seams visible in uneven lines—clearly done by an unpracticed hand. it was amateurishly repaired, the kind of haphazard work a child might do when they were trying to fix something that was once beloved, not caring how it looked as long as it was whole again.

it was the same one. there was no mistaking it. the muppet’s orange nose was slightly off-center, where their stitches hadn’t lined up properly, and one eye was smaller than the other.

their heart clenched, an ache so familiar it was almost comforting, and for a second, they were eight again, sitting cross-legged on the floor of their childhood bedroom, hands trembling as they tried to patch the torn elmo plushie back together. it had been torn to shreds by paolo, your mom’s neighbor’s pitbull, and you’d cried—they hated seeing you cry.

the memory hit them like cold water, their body suddenly stiff, eyes wide as if they’d seen something that didn’t belong in the present.

and then, you speak, completely unaware of the weight they were carrying.

“oh, i see you found my favourite plushie. don’t really know where i got this from, but it looks cute, don’t you think?”

your voice was light, casual, almost dismissive as you twirled the stuffed toy in your hands. like it was just an object, a relic of some forgotten childhood. but for them, it was the artifact of a time when the world was bigger, when the two of you were inseparable, when they would’ve done anything to fix even the smallest thing for you.

W’s breath caught in their throat, and they had to force themselves to blink, to remember how to speak. their heart pounded, not from excitement, but from the disorienting rush of memories. they had given this to you. or tried to.

they had stitched it back together so carefully, spending hours making sure it was perfect before nervously handing it over. you’d smiled back then, said you liked it, and they’d believed it meant something. something more than just a token, more than just a toy.

but you didn’t remember. you didn’t even know where it came from. a part of them wishes you didn’t still have it. wishes you’d forgotten completely, because this—you keeping it, but not remembering them—is so much worse.

they swallowed hard, trying to keep their voice steady. “yeah, it’s... cute.” the word felt wrong in their mouth, like it was somehow betraying the weight that muppet plush carried for them.

their gaze lingered on it, their mind racing, wondering if you had kept it because you cared, or if it was just some forgotten relic of a time you no longer remembered.

you smiled, tilting your head. “it kind of feels like something special, you know? like it was given to me by someone important. i just wish i could remember who.”

W’s chest tightened, the claustrophobic feeling spreading through them. someone important. you didn’t remember them, but you still felt something. they looked at you, at the elmo plush dangling from your hand, its threadbare form a little sad, like a reflection of something lost. something that was once held together, but now, you didn’t even recognize the hands that put it back together.

they wanted to say something, wanted to tell you the truth, but the words tangled in their throat. what was the point? you didn’t remember, and the idea of reminding you now—of laying bare this vulnerable part of themself—felt utterly terrifying.

W laughed, though it sounded strained, and ran a hand through their blonde locks.

“i, uh…” they cleared their throat, glancing down, hands gripping the edge of their denim aviator jacket. “i used to know someone who had one just like that. torn by a dog, actually. i stitched it up for them.”

your head snapped up. there was something flickering behind your eyes, something W couldn’t quite read. it almost looked like jealousy, but that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? you couldn’t be jealous over a stupid story from childhood.

“really?” you asked, your voice carefully neutral. “who was it for?”

they paused, their heart hammering in their chest. they didn’t want to say it outright—they didn’t want to ruin this delicate, strange balance between you. so they shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “just... someone i knew. a friend.”

you nodded, but there’s a glimmer in your eyes, something that was very close to envy.

“i bet they were really important to you, huh?” your voice has an edge, and W can hear the undercurrent of an unspoken emotion which you were trying to suppress.

they want to laugh, but it catches in their throat. “yeah,” they mutters, their gaze flicking to the floor. “they were.”

you glanced down at the toy again, running your fingers over the uneven stitching, and W’s stomach twisted. they wanted to reach out, to tell you it was theirs, that they’d sewn every stitch with clumsy hands, that it meant something to them because it had been for you, only for you. but instead, they just stood there, rooted to the spot, their mind spinning with the weight of what you didn’t know.

“was that friend really close to you?” you asked softly, your voice almost too quiet, as if you were afraid of the answer.

W froze, caught off guard by the question. they hadn’t expected that. they hadn’t expected you to ask, hadn’t expected you to care. but now, standing there with the past pressing down on them, they realized they couldn’t lie—not about this.

“they were... they meant a lot to me,” they said carefully, their voice barely above a whisper. they looked away, not wanting to see the confusion or the hurt or whatever it was that might show on your face. “it was a long time ago, though.”

you nodded slowly, though something about your posture had stiffened, like you were trying to process what they’d said, trying to make sense of it.

“i see,” you murmured, your eyes flicking back to the toy in your hands. “that’s really nice. i don’t really remember much about my childhood.”

W swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words. you didn’t remember. of course you didn’t, the last summer you spent together was the darkest period of your life. how would you remember them, or the hours they’d spent trying to make that muppet perfect for you, or the way they’d felt when you smiled and said you liked it? and yet, you’d kept the plush. you’d kept it all these years, even though you had no idea it had been them.

“yeah,” they said quietly, their voice heavy with understanding and empathy. “i guess a lot of things get forgotten once you grow up.”

you didn’t respond, but you didn’t need to. the silence between you said enough—that painful, lingering silence that wrapped itself around the two of you like a python of what could’ve been.

the muppet sat in your lap, a symbol of a shared past that only one of you remembered, and W felt that ache again—that deep, hollow ache of being close to you but so far away. like you had travelled to the stars and they had no way of reaching you anymore.

they took a deep breath, trying to pull themself back together, trying to focus on the present, on the fact that you were still here, even if you didn’t remember.

“anyway,” W said, forcing a smile, “i’m glad you kept it. even if you don’t remember where it came from.”

you smiled, though it didn’t reach your eyes, and W wondered if some part of you did remember, somewhere deep down. whether it was an actual possibility or W’s wishful thinking, you didn’t say anything else about it, and neither did they.

and in the end, all W could do was smile back at you, pretending like it didn’t hurt. like they hadn’t been completely forgotten as well.

[igetnosleep]

Rekindling

Sequel to "The Night we Met" another attempt at angst. mostly written in Leon's point of view set after RE: 4 remake in mind.

So some TW: Four pages of Leon picking you apart, Leon being needy (If you count that as a warning), thoughts of mutilation (Leon wants to get close to you but is unable to express himself properly), Anger, implied smut (I cannot write smut for the life of me), angst, some comfort but I take it from you.

Six years.

Six years since Leon had last seen you.

It felt so far away the memory of Raccoon City was ingrained into his mind like a brand.

Then they took you away had you relocated far away from him away from anyform of comfort. He wished he could have followed you at that moment and have you in his arms longer.

It felt like decades had passed since he saw you.

He wished he could pour everything out, rip his skin off and have the weight in his chest fall out bloody and ugly, but you couldn’t know that. He had to beg on his knees to make sure you didn’t end up like him. You wouldn’t have survived USSTRATCOM. He barely survived. You would have died.

Mission after mission, saving the president's daughter, the DSO decided to throw him a bone. Reward him for all of his hard work.

Now here he is finally, he gets to see you, standing in front of your apartment door. Not Sherry unfortunately, Simmons wouldn’t let him. “Make up your mind Golden boy, what's it gonna be? Think fast or I’m pulling my offer off the table.” He wanted to kill that man, jaw clenched as he accepted his superior's terms.

He steeled his nerves reaching up and knocking on your door staring hearing a dog barking and the sound of nails tapping against wood floors then scratching and more barking, you had a dog. “Coming!” your voice rang out as you unlocked the door and he was met with a determined pitbull sticking its nose past the door trying to get a feel on him.

You held onto its collar the large puppy with a powder face, sniffing excitedly as its tail whacked your leg. “Noooo don’t run off you’ll get me in trouble again.” You spoke gently, eyes trained on the pup. Slowly you looked up at him and your eyes widened in surprise, like you saw a ghost.

“Leon?” Your voice was confused and unsure. He gave you a small nod, his lip quirked up trying to give you some semblance of comfort. Your grip on your dog loosened giving it the chance to approach him, he offered his hand allowing for a sniff of approval and affectionate licks to his palm.

You had changed a bit, you looked skinnier, unfortunately, he missed the softness in your body even if it was brief how long he’d held you. You looked tired, you hadn’t been sleeping. Why did you look frail? 

You looked at him like you didn’t recognize him, your eyes searching for something, a remnant of him from when you met.  The same man who had left you alone now thinner, cheeks sunken and heavy eyebags and dark circles. Hesitantly you touched his cheek watching him tense before forcing himself still.

Those blue eyes you couldn’t get out of your head dulled and tired. The back of your hand gently smoothed over his cheek and he sighed shoulders drooping, a hint of vulnerability. Leons hand coming up and grabbing yours pressing your hand against his cheek as he took a breath.

He needs more, more than just you touching his cheek. Morbidly he wished he could sink under your skin and feel your warmth, would you mind? Would you mind if he did that? You wouldn’t would you? 

Sink his teeth into your skin and rip your throat out, maybe claw his way into your chest and make a home next to your beating heart.

Your life felt too inviting. Your warmth all too accessible, willing, open for something like him always longing for something.

Then again. There was that fear. Fear of getting too close too fast, seeming all too eager for something more. He’d come out bloody and red staring back at you scared and confused. 

Your voice cut him out of his head. He blinked and hummed a small beckon for you to repeat yourself “Do you want to come in?”

You led him inside pouring both a cup of tea, chamomile, “Helps the nerves..at least that's what the lady down the hall told me.” you spoke almost in a daze, still surprised to see him there. You pour some honey and lemon into both mugs.

Silence felt deafening between the two of you, his eyes trailing the interior of your apartment, the dog lying peacefully on the couch cushions, he never took you for a dog person, the way the carpets seem to overtake the living room, how warm it felt in the apartment despite the air being at the coldest temperature known to man.

“How have you been?” It feels like a stupid question to you, but he knows it’s all you could think of at the moment, you weren’t social you could barely keep eye contact. Were you trying to go back to the night when you looked at him trying to find the puppy you met all those years ago?

It almost felt nice that you were trying to find something to cling to like how he’d started trying to take note of how you lived every detail to how you dressed was something he wanted to write into memory. You were an open book he held the highlighters and pens writing annotations on your pages underlining and highlighting the details that caught his attention.

You could barely peer into him. Leon felt like a blank journal, the cover beautifully decorated yet when opened held nothing, no words or details to keep note of, how he preferred it now, it wasn’t your fault. He reminded you of the ones you collected but never got the chance to use, he seemed torn and frayed, being through too much to know pages torn out secrets hidden between lines and invisible ink. He felt more like the blacked out lines you’d see in a government document. At least in the movies you’d seen but at this point you were sure it was the same.

A part of him felt angry you didn’t immediately know, you couldn’t get a read on him, see what kind of person he was now without feeling like you were intruding. The man in your living room is more of a stranger if anything rather than someone you thought was a friend.

Could you classify what you had as a grounds for friendship?

You hardly knew let alone understood what happened yourself.

Leon barely tried to acknowledge it, finding himself torn between wanting to acknowledge and longing to forget what happened even if it meant forgetting you sometimes.

He almost wanted to scream at you, resentment at the life you were living now like he didn’t make the choice to protect you. 

He bit back a scowl. Glowering from his spot. “Fuck you.” his mind supplied it was terrifying how it felt like it was creeping into his veins, anger, resentment.

You looked small under his gaze, did you regret it? Did you regret meeting him? Were you starting to regret letting him into your home?

He took a deep breath, the aroma of honey and lemon mixed into his cup easing his nerves. He needs to calm down. He’ll scare you if he keeps going on like this. You hadn’t seen him in years. You didn’t even know what he’d done for you. “And you never will.” 

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. 

Leon knows better. He’s not his father. You’re not at fault.

“I’m..” he paused, debating telling the truth before shaking his head “I’ve been better.” you bit your tongue. Your cheeks flushed red as you rubbed your forehead. “Sorry..I just..You can’t talk about anything can you?” You were smart peeking into the cracks of his walls. He shook his head “No, sorry.” He looked down, somber hand coming up to rub his forehead. 

You sat in awkward silence, you weren’t used to the bitter tone on his tongue. You didn’t know what to say, what could you say? What could you do? His shoulders looked squared; he was guarded; rigid. 

His eyes narrowed and observed the area, what was he looking for? God fuck who knows something a hint that you had moved on that you were just fine without him. 

Resentment towards you festering in his mind despite him pushing it down but it clung to his gut unwilling to go away. Bitterness coated his tongue. You were scared one wrong move could break him and have him crumble like he was fragile. He wasn’t fucking fragile. “You have something on your mind?” He asked his finger tapping against the mug in his hands impatiently. 

You weren’t stupid, mostly just caught off guard by his behavior. Shifty eyes and rigid body language. Clear indication that he wanted to leave, to go back to wherever he called home.

“Sorry..I guess I’m still surprised to see you..” you apologized for your lack of words, it only proved to make him feel worse.

This meeting felt like a mistake. Everything about it felt wrong. 

Leon placed the mug down on the coffee table as he tapped his knee anxiously. “I should go.” Already getting up and moving towards your front door. You stared at him confused. He wasn't here for maybe a few minutes.

You didn’t want to leave it like this: a wordless exchange of nothing too much simmering under the surface too much needing to be said but fear and reluctance prevented them from being said.

“Leon.” Your voice was gentle trying to pull him away from his head “Are you..feeling up to a hug?” You asked, arms opening up in a curious invitation. 

For a moment he wanted to decline her out before he did something he would regret but he wanted to be selfish. He gave so much and let his superiors take so much of him it felt like there was nothing left to take. 

Just for a moment, let him have something.

Let him have this.

His arms wrapped around your shoulders, hands moving over your back slithering down and locking you in place while your hands hesitantly rest on his waist. Your hands were shaking at the unexpected contact not understanding how quickly he would change his demeanor. 

Leon nuzzled your neck, his hands clutching your shirt for a moment. He felt like he was reliving a good memory. A piece of heaven he thought was locked away from him his hands felt bloody, unclean, clutching your shirt.

You smelled nice. The scent of the soap you used was intoxicating a deep breath and he was ingraining it into his memory, his hands roaming down to your sides then up your shirt, feeling you jolt in surprise “Leon?” You voice surprised but not pushing him away cheeks flushed warm, almost burning feeling lips against your neck.

You pulled away staring at him eyes wide “Push me away. Please say something.” he murmured, his forehead leaning against yours. Your breath mingled with his while his fingers dug into your back pulling you closer with each moment of silence.

Your mind was racing, the sudden change the way he stared at you.

What the fuck?

Holy shit.

You were certain you might blow a fuse or burn out with how he was staring at you. What could you do? Say no? He did say that but the words weren’t forming in your mouth. Your name was rough on his tongue “Please say something.” he whined his voice cracking his hand coming up to cup your cheek his lips brushing against yours as you managed break out of your thoughts staring back into those pretty eyes of his ones you knew you could get lost in staring into for a long time if he allowed it.

“Keep going.” You gently urged your hand going over his thumb brushing over the back of his hand. He could get used to that feeling. His eyes darted down nudging your nose as he murmured, asking gently “Can I?” a small pause and you nodded allowing him to continue.

His lips were chapped desperate over yours. Your hands on his cheeks as you moved your mouth clumsily against his. “Bedroom?” he asked clumsily, he felt like a rookie again, legs wobbly as he guided you to where you spent your nights and mornings wrapped up in nothing but peace.

Need and desperation were the two emotions he felt during that moment. Being able to hold you to bring you close to the feeling you wrapped around him, his nails digging and clawing into your skin begging to be let in to be a part of your life without the blood and the fear, without the constant mockery or over reliance of his skills.

The morning after it was like he’d slept for the first time in a while, a proper sleep, no restless tossing and turning, no screams and vivid nightmares that came for his throat. Just sleep.

Leon breathed for what felt like a long time. Searching for you before wrapping his arms around you pulling you close his hand smoothing over your chest, a familiar heartbeat, a rhythm that made him relax with a scary realization.

He didn’t want to leave.

He wanted the warmth of the mornings and the cold nights wrapped under your blankets wrapped in you.

You.

You.

Fuck how long had he needed you?

How long did he need to be away before realizing that this was heaven. 

The pearly gates that he knew he’d be rejected from, He realized he gladly fall if it meant staying with you.

His hands were stained in blood staining your skin with his filth. He needed to make his place here. He needed you. He wanted you.

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck.

What was he doing? What was he thinking coming here? Back to you? Back to the memory he wanted to forget?

Leon buried his nose in the crook of your neck, screwing his eyes shut, reluctant feeling like a little kid after being told he had to go to school after summer break stamping his foot whining. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

He refused because he didn't want to leave. This was perfect. Everything about this was home. This was home. You were home. His nails dug into your skin drawing out a whine from you still asleep. This was only supposed to be a visit. He didn’t need to look at his phone to know he was expected back. 

Could he come back?

He wasn’t sure.

Leon stared at you, stirring in your sleep, blinking with bleary eyes staring back at him “You okay?” Your voice is still asleep but trying to stay up for him. “Yeah..go back to sleep sweetheart.” he kissed the crook of your neck while rubbing your arm lulling you back to a peaceful slumber.

When you woke up again, Leon was gone.

[asacredthebread]

The Patch •☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Sam Kiszka x Reader 𝙰𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎. Warnings/Themes: Soft Sam, Dog Dad Sam, Pumpkin Patch, Hay-Bale Ride, Lap-Sitting, Proposal. WC; 1446

As you settle into the passenger seat of Sam’s truck, the familiar rumble of the engine serves as a welcome serenade, filled with the promise of adventure. He glances over at you, and you can’t help but smile at the way his hair is loosely tied in a messy bun, a few strands artfully falling into his eyes.

“Ready for our anniversary celebration?” he asks with a grin, his voice a delightful melody that mixes with the gentle hum of the road.

“Absolutely! I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” you reply, your heart lifting at the thought of a day filled with laughter, joy, and the beauty of autumn. As he drives, Sam starts to sing softly, his voice warm and comforting like a cozy blanket. The way he sings is one of the many things you love about him—it’s soft and genuine, just like him.

The landscape around you begins to shift as you leave the familiar streets of your village behind, the trees becoming denser and the air thick with the scent of fallen leaves. It’s a perfect day; the sun shines brightly, illuminating the vibrant hues of orange, red, and gold decorating the countryside. You glance back at Rose, Sam’s loyal pitbull, who’s settled comfortably in the backseat, her ears perked up in anticipation of the day ahead.

With each mile, the buzz of excitement grows, a mix of your love for Sam, the thrill of exploring the pumpkin patch, and the enchanting atmosphere surrounding autumn. The winding road leads you to the pumpkin patch, a sprawling expanse dotted with vendors and families, laughter echoing in the crisp air. Sam parks the truck, and you both hop out, the moment filled with joy.

“Let’s check out the vendors first,” he suggests, taking your hand with a gentle squeeze. You nod, your heart fluttering as you walk side by side, Rose trotting eagerly beside you, her tail wagging with boundless enthusiasm.

The vendors are setting up their stalls, each one bursting with colorful displays—local crafts, delicious baked goods, and the freshest produce. You and Sam meander through the rows, savoring the sights and smells around you. Your fingers brush against the soft fabric of hand-knitted scarves, and the warm, spicy scent of freshly baked pumpkin bread wafts through the air, teasing your senses.

As you wander, you find a booth adorned with vibrant flowers, their petals radiant in the autumn light. Your eyes wander over the beautiful arrangements, but Sam’s attention is focused elsewhere. “Wait right here,” he says, gaze suddenly intense with excitement. You watch him as he strides over to the vendor, his eyes sparkling with purpose.

After a brief exchange, he returns with a stunning bouquet of orange and red dahlias, the colors echoing the very essence of fall. “For you,” he says, presenting the blooms like a priceless treasure.

You take the bouquet in awe, inhaling the sweet, earthy scent. “They’re beautiful, Sammy! Thank you,” you reply, your heart swelling at the thoughtful surprise.

“Just like you,” he quips, his smile radiant and playful, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks, your heart fluttering at his words. As you admire the flowers, you notice Rose nuzzling her nose against your leg, as if she’s eager to join the celebration.

With the flowers cradled in your arms and laughter ringing in the air, you continue to explore the patch, the day feeling more special with each passing moment.

The sun has climbed higher in the sky, casting a playful warmth over the pumpkin patch as Sam leads you toward the hay bale ride. Anticipation twinkles in your eyes as you can see families and couples happily laughing, climbing onto hay bales that promise a fun-filled journey through the sprawling pumpkin field.

Sam helps you onto a large bale, his strong hands guiding you gently, and you feel warmth radiate from him as he sits down beside you. “Ready?” he asks, and you nod eagerly, your heart racing at the thrill of it all. You take a moment to glance back at Rose, who seems to be waiting for your cue, her tail wagging furiously.

As the ride begins, you snuggle closer to Sam, instinctively taking a seat on his lap. It feels so right, so natural—his arms wrap around you securely, the warmth of his body enveloping you as the hay bales jolt forward into the field. You look up at him, and Sam meets your gaze, his eyes full of delight and joy.

The tractor pulls you through the vibrant patch, and you glance out over the fields stretching as far as the eye can see. Each pumpkin is distinct in size and shape, a whimsical patchwork against the backdrop of a brilliant autumn sky. Laughter fills the air as other riders point out the biggest pumpkins, and the joy is contagious.

“I think that one might be the biggest!” you exclaim, pointing to a particularly large pumpkin on your right. Sam chuckles, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face. The intimacy of the moment sends warmth through you, and you lean into him, feeling utterly content.

“What do you think, Rose? Should we win a prize for the biggest pumpkin?" Sam asks, glancing back at his beloved pitbull, who responds with an enthusiastic bark, her eyes shining bright.

You share a laugh, and for a moment, all that exists is this sweet, joyful bubble—Sam, you, and Rose together in this magical patch.

As the tractor slows, Sam leans in closer, whispering something funny in your ear, making you giggle. It feels like you two are in your own world, surrounded by laughter and warmth. But then, suddenly, he straightens up, his face shifting with mock surprise.

“Hey! Look over there!” he exclaims, pointing off toward the edge of the patch. You turn your head, eyes searching for whatever mystery he seems to have spotted just as the anticipation hangs in the air.

You follow Sam through the patch, your heart racing with excitement and a hint of confusion. What could he possibly have seen that made him stop so abruptly? The playful glint in his eyes keeps you guessing as you weave in and out of rows filled with pumpkins.

“Where are you taking me?” you laugh, your curiosity piqued. Sam glances back at you, grinning, and you can’t help but feel a rush of exhilaration. There’s a beautiful secluded area just ahead, surrounded by taller pumpkins and a few scattered bushes.

“Just trust me,” he replies, his voice teasing. His playful demeanor adds to the thrill as you walk further into the patch, the laughter and chatter of other visitors fading into the background. You feel the air change, the moment becoming more intimate, and a tingle of anticipation runs through you.

Finally, he leads you to a small clearing bathed in the soft, golden light of the setting sun. The backdrop of pumpkins glows warmly, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. Sam turns to face you, the excitement in his expression palpable.

“You've made this year so special for me,” he begins, a hint of seriousness creeping into his voice that makes your heart skip a beat. “You’ve filled my life with so much love and laughter, and I want to spend the rest of my days making you smile.”

You gaze into his eyes, feeling a mix of wonder and joy, your chest tightening with emotion.

Something in his movements shifts, and suddenly he drops to one knee, pulling something from his pocket. Your breath catches in your throat as he looks up at you, his expression earnest and vulnerable. “Will you marry me?” The words hang in the air like a spell, the world around you fading as your gaze fixates on him.

You can hardly believe it—everything feels surreal, the love between you both palpable and electric. The ring sparkles in the soft twilight, and tears well in your eyes as you take a step closer.

“Yes! Yes, of course!” you exclaim, your voice choked with emotion. Sam's face lights up with an immense smile, and he slips the ring onto your finger, the moment feeling both monumental and timeless.

In that magical pumpkin patch, framed by the fading light, you embrace him tightly, feeling his warmth surround you. The laughter of distant families melds with the beating of your heart, the promise of a beautiful future enveloping you both. It’s a perfect moment, one that you will cherish forever, and as you pull back slightly to look into his eyes, you know this day marks the beginning of the rest of your life together.

[hypnodrea]

songs/artists i’d force TWST Housewardens to listen to

— Riddle Rosehearts aka Rizzle Smoulderheart

Mans would probably be like, making me study or some shit, hopefully helping me or just around me in general. And I just whip out the nasty ass phone Daddy Crowley gave me and boot up whatever version of Spotify there and bat my eyes at Riddle saying, “Oh, music helps me focus more when studying!” When we all know that is a full on lie.

So he would be around or something and I would just start blasting the most inappropriate music ever. Probably something like Man Areas or Squidwards Nose. One of those, y’know? Just cause I think it’d be funny seeing him get all red and angry, like a raspberry.

He’d prolly yell “Off with your head” at me but that would be useless because I’m magic-less

— Leona Kingscholar aka Mr. Worldwide

Me, personally, me, personally, I’d be rockin’ to take a nap with this homie. He’d prolly hate it, but I would! And y’see, I’d come up with some bullshit that like, music helps with dreams or some shit, just anything to convince him to let me play a playlist as he sleeps.

And it’d be full of Tyler the Creator. But specifically the genre of his songs like, See You Again, What a Day, Earfquake, BEST INTEREST, songs of his like those. Now I think Leona would probably like Tyler, idk, they both have them vibes and them two my favorite men.

But yeah, I’d make him listen to Tyler, he seems like he would like at least one or two songs of his, and I sure as hell know that I would be down on my knees just to hear him sing a song.

— Azul Ashengrotto aka ‘Baka Tako’

I would literally sell my soul to him just to make him listen to every single FNAF song. It has to be FNAF. I want to get at least two or three stuck in his head, so he feels cringe and ashamed to admit liking the songs.

It would be so worth it though, seeing Azul all dripped up for Board Game Club (azul + idia club card when—) and just him humming like, Join Us For A Bite, and Idia slow head turning to him as he experiences flashbacks.

I’d be soulless for the rest of my life just to hear Azul singing Five Nights At Freddys, but god, wouldn’t that be a sight to see.

— Kalim Al-Asim aka the most nicest boy ever

I could not do anything mean to this boy, I would introduce him to like, Kali Uchis or Laufey. This man deserves all the pretty women music. I’d also just give him genuine song recommendations for like, parties too.

Maybe some like, Odetari type of music for like movin’ & groovin’. Definitely some Pitbull, Daddy Yankee, y’know all the good body mover ones. Songs that just make ya wanna swing your hips and drop it down white boy style.

Kalim is such a precious boy I would make it my life’s goal to give him all the classic bangers and new shit. Also Peso Pluma. No words. Just Peso.

— Vil Schoenheit aka the IT Girl

He scares me. I don’t want him calling my music taste ugly 😭 I’d get like, Rook to get him to listen to any of my recommendations. Or literally any one else but me. I’m sensitive :(

Anyways onto the songs/artists, ahhhh, probably K-pop. I like a lot of songs but I also heard that the dances are pretty sick too. So he can like, have fun with that. Maybe specifically like, Red Velvet, or like the BTS members but only their solo songs because I like them better like that.

Also giving him like, serious recommendations because I don’t want him to curse me if I made him listen to like a fucking Lorax song.

— Idia Shroud aka the loser gamer boy

I’m making him listen to every single Tom Cardy song I know. If there is any one in the goddamn school that could appreciate him, it would be Idia. And I wouldn’t go for the obvious choice of making him listen to Hatsune Miku because he has his little Fates idol group thing, and also because it would be too predictable.

Tom Cardy on the other hand, he is extremely unpredictable and I love him for that. Specifically showing Idia all the more funny and mainstream songs of Tom Cardy like Red Flags, Mixed Messages, and Perception Check.

Making him hum Perception Check as he beats the hell out of Azul on online Uno as Azul screeches and everytime he gets a +2 or +4 making him say ‘Nat 20 let’s fucking go’

— Malleus Draconia aka …who?

I think my more modern music taste would kill him, so I’d just give him the entire Nutcracker ballet to listen to because it is such a banger ballet, dude.

Or just ballets in general, I think he’d enjoy them in the background as he does whatever he does in his little Gargoyle club thingy.

Me and him when that beat drops in the Knights Dance from the Romeo and Juliet ballet.

{This is not at all supposed to be close to canon, this is just for funsies. I’ll prolly do the first years next…}

[symbioticsimplicity]

Of all the things he'd imagined doing over the weekend, being drug around the pound by an overly excited Maxine hadn’t been high on his list.

Sure, he'd told her his therapist had advised getting himself a dog, but he hadn’t expected that to translate into "We're going dog shopping right now." He supposes he should have seen it coming, but he was always kind of out of it after therapy.

The lady at the counter had given him the stink eye at first, but relented when Max had bopped up to her instead. Not that his sister had any better manners than he did (worse, he'd argue), but she was small and she was excited and it was hard to say no to those big green eyes.

Which was how he ended up being pulled around to every kennel at the shelter.

In truth, Billy had hardly been paying attention. He figured whatever dog they'd land on would be fine. He'd never had a dog but how different could it be from having a sister?

It wasn't until they passed a seemingly empty kennel that his attention was snagged.

"The card on the door says there's a dog in here." Max gestured to said card, containing a little information on the supposed dog, "Daisy, five years old, red nosed pitbull, recent rescue. Huh."

Billy peeked around her, first at the card, then at the seemingly empty kennel before a though occurred to him.

He dropped down into a crouch, a little too quickly for his knees, and checked under the little doggy cot set up in there. Sure enough, there was a little ball of short fur tucked away in the very corner.

She was almost as red as Max's hair, though there were patches missing. Billy had had more than enough cigarette burns to recognize them on sight. It made his stomach turn, the idea of someone using an animal as a punching bag like that.

"Daisy?" He called, keeping his voice as soft as he could, with limited success. Gentle was still new to him.

To his surprise, a head perked up. Just a little bit, just two floppy ears twitching towards the sound of her name. Both ears were notched, and one didn't sit at the same angle as the other one.

"Hey there, Daisy." He spoke again, "You picked the best hiding spot in the house."

The only one really, one Billy himself had tried a time or two before he realized hiding only made things worse.

To his surprise her tail thumped against the ground in an aborted wag. Like she was happy to be spoke to, but so nervous at the same time. He knew that feeling all too well too.

He sat himself down on the floor since crouching was making his legs go numb, making sure he did it slowly so as not to spook Daisy.

"It looks kinda small for you though." He continued, "But I guess that's kind of nice sometimes too."

Billy loved small spaces. No one ever expected him to be able to fit into them, so no one ever looked for him there. Plus the tightness almost felt like a hug. There had been plenty of times he slipped himself into a crawl space or an overfilled closet and just let himself daydream he was somewhere else.

Daisy's tail thumped again, twice this time, and Billy found himself smiling a little.

"Well," Max said, just as quietly as Billy was, "I think we found the right fit."