#yenn cat

[the-aussie-knight]

Name: Yenn Cat

Born: 6th of January 2002

Measurements: 34C-24-35

[fuegoesquivo]

Yenn Cat

[myfavoritepose2]

[chrisnaustin]

If only I were she!

[yenni-loves-trinkets]

i wannnnttt

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Modern au

Lambert takes his niece to get her ears pierced for her birthday and oh no, the new guy at the studio is ridiculously hot!!

"You still sure about this, kid?" Lambert asked as the two of them rounded the corner onto the next street, Ciri took a break from demolishing her purple frosted doughnut to give him an excited nod. It was the answer he'd been expecting but it still didn't hurt to check. Ciri had expressed interest in getting her ears pierced a few months prior and the agreement she'd reached with her father was that if it was something she still wanted by the time her birthday came around and it wasn't just a passing whim then she had his permission. That day had finally arrived and Lambert had volunteered to make the arrangements and take her to his usual guy, fully convinced that Geralt would just end up wandering into the nearest Claire's otherwise - having no personal experience, the man had proven himself to be clueless when it came to researching reputable places.

He felt Ciri press a little closer to him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He didn't blame her, they weren't exactly in the most respectable part of town anymore - he was pretty sure the rats would try to mug you if they were capable - and if any of Ciri's three parental figures were with them (Jaskier was definitely in the realms of honorary parent at this point, whatever the situation was with him, Geralt and Yenn) they'd probably be making them turn around and head back. They weren't though; and Lambert had been using this place for the last seven years, since he was eighteen and making questionable choices just to push Vesemir's buttons.

There'd been some new graffiti added to the red brick of the outside of the studio since the last time Lambert had visited - not that it'd stay there very long before one of the inhabitants covered it with work of their own. Years of this has led to a good portion of 'Dyn Marv tattoos and piercings' being covered in a mish-mash of traditional tattoo designs, psychedelic swirls, detailed wolves and tigers and a relatively fresh looking comic style UFO by one of the top windows.

Lambert's brow furrowed a little in confusion at the noise that greeted them as they entered. There was music playing - nothing unusual in that, there was always music playing on a low volume but this wasn't Cedric's usual heavy metal or Schrödinger's classic rock or even Axel's K-Pop. It sounded almost like folk rock if Lambert had to guess, unfamiliar but not unpleasant.

The figure behind the counter was also unfamiliar as they stood with their back to them, fairly tall and dark skinned with black curls tied back with a strip of blue cloth, a sleeveless white tank showing off muscular arms. Lambert cleared his throat awkwardly to catch their attention, then felt his throat dry up instantly when they turned at the noise. Oh no.

He was fucking gorgeous. A few loose curls framed a high cheek-boned face, full lips framed by labret and septum piercings pulled up into a wide smile which in turn caused khol rimmed, emerald eyes to crinkle at the corners. A silver chain disappeared into the low neck of his tank top which also offered a glimpse of toned chest, the edges of black ink barely visible.

"Hi there, can I help you?" He asked and oh god, even his voice was hot.

"You're not Cedric." Lambert immediately wanted to go drown himself in the customer bathroom.

"He left me in charge while he had to run out. Something about moving apartments and Schro getting stuck in a box again..." He finished with a shrug, "I'm Aiden."

Lambert felt something click in his brain, "Cedric's brother right? He's mentioned you a couple of times."

"Whatever he's told you, it's all lies." Aiden said with a wink, leaning on the counter and resting his chin on his hand - the back of said hand Lambert noted, sported a tattoo of a realistic snarling, green eyed black cat.

"So anything I can help with today or would you rather hang out and wait for Cedric, although I couldn't tell you how long he'll be."

"Depends. How are you with kids and piercings?" He knew Dragonfly only dealt with tattoos whilst Joel specialised in the more 'adult' piercings and didn't tend to take clients under twenty one. Lambert gestured to Ciri who had wandered away from him to browse over the display of various spiked cuffs and brightly coloured necklaces for sale.

"I've experience with both. I did my apprenticeship and got my qualifications under Cedric and Axel and have many niblings and foster siblings, as you probably already know if you know Cedric."

Lambert nodded. Cedric and the others ran a tight ship, they wouldn't allow Aiden to work here if he didn't meet their standards, "Ciri." He called, dragging the girls attention from a plastic unicorn necklace she'd been eyeing up "This is Aiden, he's going to do your piercings, ok?"

Ciri scrutinized him for a couple of seconds before giving a nod. Aiden grinned back.

"And what are we going for today. Nose, belly button? No don't tell me... eyebrow!"

Ciri giggled, "My daddy said I can get my ears pierced for my birthday."

"Oh really?" He threw a quick look at Lambert and something in his expression closed off, "Well let's get some studs picked out and then we'll get you all comfy and set up."

"Can I use the bathroom first, please?"

"Just through there, sweetie." Aiden said, gesturing to the lime green door behind her before placing one of the standard forms in front of Lambert, "We'll do the boring paperwork in the meantime."

"I'm not daddy by the way." Lambert blurted out after a couple of minutes spent in awkward silence.

"Huh?"

"I'm her uncle." He held the form out for the other whilst trying his damned hardest not to stare at those lips.

"Well," Aiden deliberately brushed his fingers against Lambert's as he went to take it, voice pitched lower as his eyes slowly looked Lambert up and down, "If you ever want to be someone's Daddy, I wouldn't be opposed."

Before Lambert could even think of a response to that Ciri returned and Aiden was back to being professional, yelling for Dragonfly to come watch the front before showing his newest client all of the different earrings she could choose from and having a serious discussion about red Vs. blue as if he hadn't just made Lambert's brain short circuit. Dragonfly chimed in with her opinion every now and then too whilst throwing a smirk at Lambert which left him wondering how much of that exchange the petite, heavily tattooed blonde might have heard.

Lambert was ready to leave at a moments notice as Ciri glanced around Aiden's workspace, sitting stiffly and looking far too small in the leather chair.

"Ok Ciri, we're all ready to go." Aiden settled on a stool next to her, angling himself so the tray bearing the bright pink studs (and more importantly, the needle) was out of Ciri's eyeline, "Now, you look a teeny bit nervous there so would you like me to explain everything to you or just shut up and get on with it?"

"Could you tell me please? I don't like not knowing what's happening."

Ten minutes later, after having Aiden show her everything he was going to be using and answering all her questions, a much calmer Ciri was staring at the far wall trying to count all of the band stickers which had been put there and added to over the years, with Lambert sat on the now vacated stool by her feet "Feel free to swear kid. We won't say anything if you don't."

"Absolutely." Aiden agreed, "Ok. And 3...2...1"

"BUTTS!"

Lambert rolled his eyes heavenwards whilst Aiden looked like he was trying to hold in a laugh.

"Well, I can honestly say I've never had anyone scream 'butts' in my face before now. You got a poop to go with it? 3...2...1"

"POOP!"

"I need to be having a word with her dad if she thinks butts is a swear." Lambert muttered as he paid, Ciri back to hanging around the jewellery display and proudly showing off her new piercings to Dragonfly.

"Oh come on. It was pretty hilarious." Aiden chuckled somewhat awkwardly, "Hey, I'm sorry if I came on a little too strong earlier by the way. Sometimes my mouth shoots off before my brain kicks in."

Lambert made sure Ciri was suitably distracted before leaning in closer, "It's not your mouth I want to make shoot off."

The hitched breath he got in response was incredibly satisfying.

"Uncle Lambert, look what Dragonfly gave me!" Ciri yelled, breaking the moment and holding up the unicorn necklace from earlier.

"For the birthday girl." Dragonfly looked a little too smug and Lambert was going to figure out a way to get revenge.

"Well then...if there's nothing else I can help with today...?"

"Actually-"

Vesemir sighed, shaking his head in defeat as he caught sight of Lambert, "Please tell me taking Ciri wasn't just a cover for that. What on earth were you thinking?"

Lambert merely waggled his eyebrows in response, the new gold bar in the left catching the light as he did. Right now he was thinking getting an impulsive piercing to give the pretty guy a reason to touch him wasn't the dumbest thing he'd ever done by a longshot. Especially when said pretty guy gave him his private number afterwards "Incase you have any problems with aftercare."

He smirked as he fished out his phone, firing off a message to Aiden inviting him to find out sometime exactly how seriously he took aftercare.

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 27

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings: Misogyny, Bullying, Hazing

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @athenepromachos @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019 @rosecentury @wa-ni @secretdream2 @missemrose @shellyshellshell @winter2112rose

A/N: I'm still working on updating my taglist. Unfortunately if your name is crossed out it's because tumblr won't let me tag you.

Masterlist

Day 444

Leah never thought she would be back at Warhorse, much less without Sy. From the moment she crossed the gate it was deja vu. There were shouts coming from the angry crowd outside and cat calls coming from the horny men inside. As far as she was concerned, she was on the most dangerous side of the gate.

“Don’t punch anyone,” Benjie ordered under his breath, keeping his eyes forward. “The boys have mentioned the new Captain is the bottom of the barrel. He sees you react, it’ll be his pleasure to make your life hell while you’re here.”

Leah ground her teeth as she walked by a group of boys making lewd gestures. “I don’t know. I get the feeling my life here will be hell either way. I might as well have the satisfaction that will come from seeing the look on their faces when they get their ass kicked by a girl.”

One of the new boys led them up the stairs to their assigned room. It seemed no one was concerned about giving her a separate space this time. They walked past a few familiar faces, one of which looked from where he was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. Nielsen locked eyes with Leah, giving her nod of acknowledgment.

A nod was better than him going back to torturing her or pretending like she doesn’t exist.

“I can’t believe they dragged us all the way here to be fucking glorified delivery drivers.” Jer complained, dumping his bag on his bed. “Aren’t we overqualified for that shit?”

“Apparently they tried to get a couple of army boys to escort the truck. Only two out of five walked out of here on their own two feet. Two were evac’d after their Victor took a hit from a rocket launcher and the other left in a bag after a firefight.”

“Guess I must have missed the day in Spec Ops training where they taught us that we become impervious to rocket launchers,” Ethan mumbled.

He had a point. Calling in an extra team to put more protection on the convoy was one thing, trading one team for another was just sending more lambs out to slaughter. The current team had fucked up and gotten the water pumps blown up. Shouldn’t they get the shitty—and apparently deadly—job of escorting the water tank? Let them put their asses on the line while she and the boys sat around playing poker and ‘guarding’ the base.

Day 445

The next morning, they made their beds before going down to chow. No less than four men popped in to ask Leah if she could ‘be a doll and do theirs once she was done’. She never thought she’d want a guy to defend her honor but she kind of wished Sy was there to put them in their place so that she didn’t have to just grit her teeth and take it.

After a quick breakfast, they went back up to their rooms to gear up for the day.

“What the fuck?” Benjie exclaimed, looking down at his hand which was entirely coated in something thick and red.

“What even is that?” Ethan asked in horror.

Rohan caught Benjie’s wrist, bringing it to his nose for a sniff. “Huh, fifty-seven varieties.”

“Ketchup?” Leah guessed. “They aren’t seriously dumb enough to pull a prank on a nearly senior NCO, are they?”

“Nope,” Jer cut in, “but they are dumb enough to not double check that they got the right bag.” Jer pulled out three pairs of women’s underwear coated in what must have been an entire bottle of ketchup.

Leah didn’t even know how they got their hands on so much ketchup. Or women’s underwear for that matter.

“They got the wrong bag? How? They all saw which bunk was mine.”

“Exactly.”

Leah shared a confused look with Benjie as he attempted to clean himself up with baby wipes. It was then she noticed that her bag was not where she had left it.

“You switched our bags.”

A victorious grin pulled at Jer’s lips. “I think the Captain will be interested in hearing about how disrespectful his boys are being, don’t you?”

Leah had been wrong. Escorting the water tanker was not the worst part of their job. The worst part was waiting for the damn thing to fill. After the Captain spoke with Fuller and agreed to discipline his men—even he couldn’t overlook hazing a staff sergeant—he’d sent them out on their way.

At least on the road their minds were occupied, watching their sectors or the slightest sign of danger. At the water pump there was nothing around for miles. They would see and hear any hostiles coming long before they were a danger to them so she was going absolutely crazy in the meantime.

“I need to take a shit,” Ethan said to no one in particular.

“Now’s as good a time as you’re gonna get. Jer, go keep a lookout.”

“Why does it gotta be me? Why don’t you go watch him drop the kids off at the pool.”

“I’ll go,” Leah volunteered. “I’m going fucking crazy standing still. Rohan, switch with me.” 

Rohan climbed up to take her place while she jumped off the tanker and followed Ethan to the sand dunes, stopping at the top while he went down to the other side. From there, she could see out even further so, after doing a preliminary sweep, she lifted her gun to look into the distance through her scope.

“Something wrong, Coleman?” Benjie asked, probably on high alert from the fact that she had her weapon raised.

“Nah, just wanted to see better!”

“Roger!”

Lowering her weapon, Leah glanced at the rest of the team before turning and looking through her scope in the other direction. A black dot crossed the bottom of her scope, making her pause and look up.

The dot was in the direction of the only road that led up to the water station but there was no dust to indicate that it was a vehicle approaching. Looking back through the scope, it took her a moment to find the dot again, noting that it had gotten a tiny bit closer.

“Alright, I’m ten pounds lighter and no longer at risk of shitting myself on the road. Let’s get back to the tanker.”

Leah didn’t look up from her scope as Ethan climbed the dune, tracking the dot as it slowly got closer.

“Coleman?” Ethan’s voice was more tentative this time.

“Gimme a second.”

“Should I be worried?”

“I can’t tell with the heat haze. Whatever it is, it’s small and far out still so we don’t need to panic.” Yet.

Beside her, Ethan raised his weapon, ready to provide cover fire just in case. Another minute passed and the dot still wasn’t close enough to allow Leah to see it clearly.

“Are you sure it’s moving?”

“Positive.”

“Clean your scope to be sure.”

Part of her was annoyed that Ethan didn’t trust her but she did it anyway. Sure enough, the dot was still there.

“Well, it’s gotta be an animal ‘cause I doubt someone would walk way out here alone.”

Leah dropped her rifle, frowning as she considered Ethan’s words. They were pretty far from Warhorse and the surrounding village. If it was indeed an animal, it was likely wild. “Can you do that really loud whistle people do at concerts?”

“No, but I think Rohan can.”

“Hey Ray!” She waited for him to look over his shoulder at them. “I need you to whistle towards the road! Make it loud!”

Pulling his gloves off, Rohan angled his body East, no questions asked. He slipped his fingers between his lips and let out an ear-piercing whistle.

It took Leah a moment but she eventually got eyes on the dot once more. She would have expected a wild animal to be spooked by the sound. Instead, the dot had continued to approach, gaining speed and becoming more and more clear.

“No fucking way.” Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her. The lack of sleep since she’d gotten back was finally getting to her and she was hallucinating. That had to be it.

“Is that… Aika?” Ethan asked, apparently having gotten sick of her silence and taken matters into his own hands by looking through his own scope.

“It can’t be.” They both lowered their weapons, sharing a confused look. “Can it?”

Leah was afraid to get her hopes up. Aika had survived on her own once before but she’d gotten used to life on base where water had flowed freely and the peanut butter was plentiful.

They both ran down from the dune, rejoining the others by the tanker. Leah made a beeline for the humvee, yanking open the door and digging around the back seat.

“What’s going on?”

“Coleman glassed something. Looks like a german shepard.”

Benjie, Jer and Rohan shared a knowing look, immediately understanding what Ethan was implying. 

“Shoot it,” a man from the new unit said. “People out here don’t keep dogs as pets. It’s probably got rabies or some shit.”

“You shoot that dog, you answer to me,” Benjie barked.

Having collected the peanut butter packets from all the MREs, Leah got out of the humvee and began walking down the road. Without having to ask, Jer followed.

The men from the other unit began arguing behind them but Leah shut them out. She stopped just far enough from the station to not be overheard but close enough that if shit went sideways the others would be able to take their shot.

“It’s been months,” Jer said as the dog came into view. It was running now, closing in fast.

“I know.”

“That green would have washed out by now.”

“I know.”

“So how are you gonna check if it’s her without getting up within biting distance?”

Without answering, Leah stepped forward, putting a few yards of distance between herself and Jer. Hope had either made her brave or just plain stupid.

She was going to find out which in three… two… one…

Leah squatted down, putting her hand out in front of her. The dog didn’t slow, bypassing her hand entirely and barreling into her. The force of the impact pushed her onto her back and she prayed none of the boys had itchy fingers when a wet tongue darted out over her cheek.

Excited wimpers were like music to her ears, her own laughter adding to the sound of their reunion. Aika kept Leah pinned under her weight as she licked every inch of available skin.

“Hey, come on girl, let your mama breathe.”

Seeming to notice Jer for the first time, Aika jumped off Leah to press her snout into his outstretched hand. It took her a little longer to recognize his scent but soon her butt was wiggling as she wagged her tail hard.

Leah wiped the tears from her cheeks before getting to her feet. She gave Aika a full body rub down until she had calmed enough to obey commands.

“Aika, middle.”

Immediately, Aika turned to Leah, walking around her and coming to stand between her legs from behind.

“Good girl.”

Leah squirted some peanut butter on her fingers, letting Aika lick it off before she began to walk. Aika kept her position, walking between Leah’s legs. Maybe she was being overprotective but she didn’t want to give anyone a clear shot.

“You and Sy were busy.”

“She can do all the basic obedience they would teach a K9. At least, she used to.”

She hadn’t been practicing for very long when they’d left and she was still young. Consistency was key when training dogs and even the best behaved dogs failed commands sometimes.

“What’s the plan here? They won’t let her back on base.”

“When I got home, I had a talk with someone from the shelter my dad used to volunteer at. They were in the process of working with a local SPCA to fly her stateside. When Sy told me they had dumped Aika, they kept in touch with a few kennels just in case someone brought in a green shepard. I don’t know how fast they work but maybe if I can get a call out to my contact back home they’d be able to set up a meet before we move on.”

“The parts for the pump are being delivered tomorrow. We’re gonna be out of the country in a matter of days you can’t—”

“Jer, I don’t need you to tell me how fucking shit the odds are,” she snapped. “She’s made it this far. If there’s a chance, I have to try.”

Day 205:

From the moment she woke, there was only one thing on Leah’s mind. Heat. Her entire body was burning up. Blindly, Leah pushed her socks off under the blanket, letting them ball up at the foot of the bed then kicked the blankets off. When that wasn’t enough, she was forced to let her mind wake up.

Realizing that the reason for the scorching temperature was because she was still fully dressed, Leah remembered the previous night’s events. She sat up, looking at Sy’s sleeping form then down at his hoodie which she still wore over her dress.

After having been fully naked with him the night before, there was no reason to suddenly turn shy. She lifted the dress over her head, removing both it and the hoodie in one go. There was no way she was keeping her bra on, even for modesty. Underwires were created by the devil.

Once she no longer felt like a ball of fire, she made herself comfortable by curling up behind Sy. She pressed her forehead between his shoulder blades and slipped a hand up his stomach to his chest.

Sy hummed as her bare tits were pressed against his back. Taking Leah’s hand in his, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her inner wrist.

“Y’okay, baby girl?”

She nodded against his back. “Got hot.”

“You gonna be able to go back to sleep?”

“I don’t think so.”

They were likely both wide awake now despite the late night.

“Guess it’s a good thing we ain’t got anywhere to be today.”

Not that he would want to be anywhere else. He’d be okay staying right where they were for eternity. Or, at least, until they had to get back to base.

“Well, I actually did have an idea of something to do… If you wanted.”

Sy rolled over, pulling Leah to his chest. One hand followed the curve of her hip, lifting her bare thigh over his waist. 

“We gotta be there before twelve-hundred hours?” he muttered, still a little groggy.

Biting her lip to mask her amused smile, Leah pressed her forehead to Sy’s. “Nope.”

“Then I’ll follow you anywhere you wanna go,” he vowed, sealing his promise with a kiss.

“Why didn’t you bring me here earlier?” Sy questioned, looking up at the sign above the door.

“You said you didn’t want to be anywhere before noon,” Leah shot back.

“No, I asked if we had to be anywhere before noon. If you’d told me you were bringing me here I’d have taken the answer to that question as a yes.”

Leah rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a smile. They both exited the car, making their way inside. A bell chimed over the door, alerting the receptionist to their presence.

“Hi there! What can I help you with today?”

“Is Terry here?”

Before the receptionist could open her mouth to speak, a male voice answered in her place.

“Now, I know my ears must be playing tricks on me because there’s no way that I just heard Gage Coleman’s little girl.”

A white-haired man exited a room which was marked ‘office’.

“No tricks, it’s really me.”

The older man pulled Leah into a quick hug before putting both hands on her shoulders as he looked her up and down. “It always scares me how much you look like your father. Although,” the man leaned in a little closer and stage-whispered, “you are way prettier.”

He shot her a wink before pulling away.

“Still a charmer I see. Do you mind if we take some of the guests out to play?”

“Not at all, go on back.”

Terry instructed the receptionist to give them both full access before he moved on to discuss business. Leah took Sy’s hand, leading him around the reception to the door that led to the back area. As soon as the door was open, the sound of barking reached Sy’s ears.

They passed a few different doors before they eventually reached the last one at the end of the hall.

“It’s best if you don’t try to reach into any of the cages. The signs on the doors will warn you of any potential behavioral problems or injuries that you need to be aware of. There’s a fenced area around back where we can play with them but I usually like to take them out on a walk first to let them roam and do their business.”

Over the course of the afternoon, Sy and Leah took all the dogs in the shelter out for a walk then to the back for them to run freely and play. That is, all but one.

When Sy had asked about the red card that was pinned to the cage, Leah said that it was because that dog was aggressive. At first glance, the dog didn’t look dangerous, cowering at the back of the cage but one of the vet techs had come in to feed him while they were in the room and the dog had started growling as soon as the tech had put a hand on the door.

They’d apparently been trying to socialize him in the two weeks since his arrival but no one had been able to open the door without being growled or barked at. 

“You can sit with him if you want. The same way we did with Aika. I wanted to talk to Terry before we left anyway.”

“Is it gonna actually help if he never sees me again?”

“Any potential adopter is going to be a stranger at some point. He needs to learn to trust people in general. You can sit in front of his cage with Daisy and give her belly rubs while he watches.”

Daisy was Terry’s elderly golden retriever. She was completely unfazed by anything and everything and was apparently used for socializing other animals from time to time.

At the mention of her name, she stood from where she was lounging on the floor and slowly made her way to Sy.

“I shouldn’t be too long but feel free to come find me if you get bored.”

Doing as Leah suggested, Sy sat down against the wall across from the cage. He didn’t want to risk Daisy getting too close and being bit. The pooch in question promptly followed his lead, rolling over for the promised belly rubs.

After a while, he figured the dog would also need to get comfortable with human voices so he decided to talk to him. And so, for the next half hour, Sy told the dogs all about Aika. He told the story of when he first saw her. How he’d been pissed off when someone had tried to shoot her. How he’d been heartbroken at having to leave her to die and the subsequent relief and ecstasy to know she’d survived. How she made the lonely nights less lonely. How she’d brought him and Leah closer. By the end, the dog had sat up, gazing at him with inquisitive eyes. 

This time, when he was forced to leave the dog behind, it was with the knowledge that the people at the shelter would do everything in their power to help him heal and find him a permanent home.

Chapter 28

[yenni-loves-trinkets]

awwwrrr

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Pumpkin spice

Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Walter Marshall x librarian!reader

Summary: You finally manage to get a date with the handsome barista from your favorite coffeeshop.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), p-in-v sex, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), a cheesy (romantic) date, a short appearance of Mike The Idiot TM, awkwardness, a lot of coffee and abuse of a cable knit... I think that's it?

A/N: Another promise made to @deandoesthingstome. I swear this woman is responsible for half the stuff on my masterlist at this point. Credit for the other half goes to @geralts-yenn of course. This time, it was - of course - because I made the mistake of adding one of the - according to her - more attractive Henry-shaped men to the Coffee+Cats universe. Naturally, grumpy coffeeshop manager Walter needed a hug and some good head, and Charlie volunteered, so here we are.

What we're left with is a crazy crossover between the Coffee+Cats AU and the 179th Crescent Street AU, because this is - indeed, for the people who are familiar with Crescent Street - the librarian!reader from After Hours.

@ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

The brooding man behind the counter has been getting on your nerves for weeks. His only crime is ‘getting your order right’, which shouldn’t even be all that surprising, because that’s his job – if it weren’t for the fact that he seems to know exactly what it’s going to be before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak.

“What can I do for you today?” He could look less godlike, maybe? Don’t say that. Or he could smell worse? Or that. Or he could not smile in a way that seemed to make the earth stop spinning. Very dramatic, also don’t say that.

“Ehh…” Brilliant. Someone should give you an award for that monologue. Shake it off. “Since when do I have to order for myself?”

Alright, you’ve made him chuckle – God, that’s a delicious sound – and look away. Now what? “I’m sorry,” he says, still avoiding your eyes, “I can’t read you today. But you seem annoyed enough with me to make me want to make whatever you’re going to order lukewarm in case I get it thrown in my face later.”

“That’s too bad,” you say, “I was really hoping to get a recommendation.” Because you only know what you want to order when you’re here for coffee. And you’re not here for coffee. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, why are you getting coffee today?” Son of a bitch! It’s a good thing the shop is slow right now, so you’re not holding anyone up with your… is it flirting? God, let it be flirting! No, definitely not flirting. Or maybe…?

“Maybe it’s not the coffee so much as the company,” you say shyly. Yeah, flirting. Qualitatively very poor flirting, but still. It stays quiet on the other side of the counter for a beat too long, which sends your anxiety through the roof.

“So, how about she has whatever you’re having when you go on your break in about... A minute and a half?” The voice belongs to Mike, the almost annoyingly upbeat barista you’ve seen around countless times. He’s responsible for at least half the college crowd that flocks to this place, because he’s a cutie. A little young, maybe, but he has a nice ass.

“I was going to go with a regular old espresso.” He smiles apologetically.

“You look like you could do with a double.” God, that’s a horrible line.

It’s Mike who ends up laughing. “He could do with way more than a double,” he snickers, shooing Walter away from the cash register. “Get out of here, or I’m getting you both pumpkin spice lattes.”

Walter shudders at the thought. He never struck you as the kind of guy who likes his coffee sweet, and you’re happy you’re right. At least… You think you’re right until you see the little twinkle in Mike’s eyes. Granted, that happens a lot, but never for nothing, and the little wink he throws your way suggests he knows his boss has a secret pumpkin spiced sweet tooth he doesn’t want the world to know about. So you pretend not to notice.

When you’re finally settled at a table, you talk for what feels like forever, your knees touching under the table. You’d expected him to move his leg out of the way when you first bumped into it accidentally, but he didn’t. Then, as your conversation went on, more and more of your legs got mixed up together.

“Walter?” For the love of God, why? “I hate to break up your date, but a whole sorority just walked in and I can’t do this by myself.”

“I’m on my break, Mike,” Walter grumbles in return, clearly not happy about the interruption. That’s a good sign, right?

“Your break, Mr. Manager, sir, ended forty-five minutes ago.” Mike would make a great wingman, if it weren’t for the fact that he seems a little keen to pat himself on the back for his efforts. “Give her your number and come do your job.” With a dramatic sigh, he walks back to where he’s supposed to be.

“I’m really sorry,” Walter says with an apologetic smile on his face. You shrug it off – it really doesn’t matter, he wasn’t even supposed to have spent the better part of the past hour with you – and slide your phone towards him.

A poetry reading in a – different – coffeeshop in town. That’s where he suggests you go. First, any man who is creative enough to come up with something other than ‘a drink’ or ‘dinner’ is worth a shot in your book, but when they’re of the dark, gloomy, burly variety; all the better. And no three-day-wait nonsense, either. He calls you right after his shift ends, and asks you to meet him in two hours.

It's barely a fifteen-minute walk from your apartment, which leaves you with plenty of time to complain quietly to yourself that an hour and forty-five minutes is not enough time to get dressed for a date, while getting dressed for your date. You manage with time to spare – five whole minutes – which you spend pensively checking out your outfit in every imaginable angle in the mirror on your bedroom door. You toy with the hem of the skirt you’re wearing, fondly remembering another time you put it on. You’re not one to kiss and tell, so only a few of your closest friends know the crudest of outlines to the story of your scandalous liaison in the university library – and the long night that followed. Not that you’re particularly happy that those same friends, to this day, still tease you about how you – a grown woman – let yourself get talked into a night in student housing with a guy just about so much younger than you that you really didn’t want to even begin doing the math, but you wouldn’t trade the memories for anything in the whole world.

One look at your watch tells you it was time to go, and with trembling hand you open the door of your apartment. It had been sheer, dumb luck that even got you this place in the first place. It's tiny – just the second floor of a beautiful old townhouse – and narrow, but it has a separate bedroom, which was all you could really wish for with your income, anyway. During this time of year, the street it was on looks like a picture; orange leaves bravely cling to the steadily baring branches of the trees, and litter the ground, making for the perfect autumn scene. The sight also never fails to make you more desperate than usual – even for you – for coffee.

You’ve always enjoyed the fall, including all its necessary trials and tribulations – slippery sidewalks that weren’t quite suited for folks with your level of coordination, the unannounced rain that mercilessly drenched you and your absolutely everything in the early morning so that the sleeves of your coat would be unbearably wet when you put it on later in the afternoon, the cold that had you shivering and covered in goosebumps more often than not, and your toes. Freezing. Always. On that front, living in an old, drafty apartment with less-than-efficient heating isn’t exactly your top choice. Oh well.

The coffeeshop is – as per your calculations – a little less than a fifteen-minute walk away from your place, and you dread being early. Getting there first. Waiting for him. Fortunately, when you round the corner, you see him standing outside. You happily note that he is standing there – again, outside – in nothing but a dark cable-knit sweater, jeans and sturdy shoes that are the most weather-appropriate part of his outfit as far as you’re concerned.

“Hello.” His blue eyes smile down on you, and you barely remember your own damn name. Was he always this tall? This big? This handsome? A nervous smile will have to serve as your answer, because you’re at a complete loss for words. He doesn’t seem to mind.

For a moment, you stand there, simply staring sheepishly into his eyes, until finally a drop of rain falls right on the tip of your nose, pulling you from your trance at once. “We should get inside,” you say softly.

Walter reaches an arm out. “After you,” he says with the same kind smile in his eyes. You pick a table in the corner, settling nicely on the comfortable couch, while Walter grabbed the two of you coffee.

“Pumpkin spice,” you chuckle when he returns with two identical steaming cups. He nods, a playful smile in his eyes, only. “Is Mike the only one who knows your secret?” Your nerves convince you that your shot at playful banter goes wide, until Walter sits down and chuckled.

“There’s, eh… There’s this woman,” he says softly. To your surprise, he doesn’t sit in the chair opposite you, but he joins you on the couch. As the café is filling up, another customer quickly confiscates the chair Walter isn’t using.

“Don’t worry, she won’t tell,” you say, your voice trembling as you briefly consider the possibility that he wasn’t referring to you.

When the reading ends, you linger until the shop closes – which isn’t too long after, but still, you find it comforting in the sense that you’re simply glad Walter doesn’t try to run as soon as he can. Outside, the rain has picked up, and if the autumn air was chilly before, now, it’s downright icy. Despite his lacking a jacket or coat, the cold doesn’t seem to bother Walter, and though the rain clearly does, he offers to walk you home – an offer, mind you, he’s not intent on allowing you to decline.

It would have been obvious to anyone just under half as nervous as you are, but neither of you seem to be in a hurry to get you home, despite the rain, both clearly dragging out the little time you both think is still left to this date. Until you reach your front door, that is, and you both look at each other.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” Is that your voice? Your invitation? And is that him? Accepting your offer? Apparently it is, because he follows you in when you open the door. The stairs to your floor are almost too narrow for him, and he has to watch his head for that one ridge in the ceiling of the stairwell that you never look out for because you’re small enough to never have it bother you. “This is me,” you say nervously as you open the door and invite him into your place. He seems comically large in your tiny living room, and you barely manage to suppress a chuckle. “Coffee?”

“Please!” he says before he shivers visibly.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry,” you say as you realize – what you consider – your error. “I shouldn’t have… You must be wanting to get home and get out of your wet clothes, I…” A hand on your cheek and the heat that, despite being soaked through and through, radiates off his body cuts you off mid-apology.

“I wouldn’t mind getting out of these clothes,” he says slowly, his voice dark and husky in a way that makes your breath stick in the back of your throat for a moment, “but I don’t see a reason to wait until I get home to do that.” Without waiting for a response, he captures your lips in a scorching hot kiss that almost make you forget that both of you have wandered – slowly – through the pouring rain for nearly fifteen minutes.

Large hands gently tug your coat off your shoulders until a single move of your arms makes it drop to the floor, then they’re at your waist, pulling you closer. His lips are gentle, surprisingly soft, and his beard scratches against your cold skin. When you reach for his face, and your fingers connect with his skin, he inhales sharply.

“Are your hands made of ice?” he mumbles against your lips, his lips pulling away in a grin. He takes your hands away from his face, draping your arms around his neck instead, where you weave your fingers into his messy curls. They’re all but soaked from the rain, and part of you wants to offer him a towel, but another – much bigger – part of you swears it will die if not attached firmly to big, big man. Walter pulls you close, not expecting an answer to his question, and carefully slides his tongue along your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. You do, and you allow yourself to be swept away by the gentle yet thorough way in which his tongue explores your mouth, dances with yours.

With near-greedy impatience, you push him back, towards the door of your bedroom, longing so desperately to feel more of this man than you currently are. ‘Stumble’ is an apt descriptor for the way you cross the threshold into your room. Here, too, he seems almost too large for the space – which is so small that from where he’s standing, he couldn’t fall in any direction without hitting a wall. Your bed covers the whole wall beneath the window, easily taking up half the space, with your wardrobe taking up most of what’s left. You might have fit another bookcase in there, if it weren’t for the fact that you prefer your bathroom door actually closes.

Without thinking, you reach for the hem of his sweater, your fingers purposely lingering on the skin beneath, which – despite being damp from the rain – still radiates heat. Under your touch, his grip on your waist tightens, and his abs twitch. There’s more muscle to him than you’d thought, and you find another pleasant surprise when you rake your fingers over his stomach. So pleasant, in fact, that you can’t suppress a soft chuckle. Nothing says ‘perfect fall hookup’ like a deliciously hairy man. Now, if only that damned – and dampened – sweater would come off, that would be so amazing…

Frustrated groans escape the both of you when the garment puts on more of a fight than any sweater has the right to, and as soon as it’s on the floor, Walter kicks it out of the room for good measure. Your hands eagerly travel the now-exposed skin of his chest and back, making him shiver and moan loudly as you drag a single fingernail softly down his spine. He captures your lips again, stringing you along into the depths of another scorching kiss, fingers working diligently to untuck your sweater from your skirt. A soft growl slips from his throat as he finishes his mission, only to encounter the fabric of the blouse you’re wearing underneath the sweater – you really do get cold easily. This time, he is far less friendly in his approach, pulling almost recklessly at the fabric that finds itself so rudely between your body and his greedy touch.

Your sweater meets a fate similar to his, and your hands make quick work of just enough buttons of your blouse that you can pull the thing over your head while his hands continue their exploration slightly further down, following the soft curve of your ass and pulling you closer to him as he goes. His mouth barely leaves yours – he alternates between using just the right amount of tongue, and nipping at or sucking on your bottom lip. Paired with his obviously horny impatience, it’s nothing short of divine.

You can’t wrap your head around how warm his hands feel on your skin, but the contrast with the chilly air of the room is both staggering and arousing. Not that Walter had thus far been unsuccessful in arousing you – quite the opposite, in fact. His lips move to your neck while his hands roam your back and sides, hesitant to grab more of you. What does he think you’re going to do? Object?

Your hands are already undoing his belt, eager to take the final pieces of wet fabric off him so you can finally seek the solace of your warm bed, and he lets you, kicking off his shoes while you struggle with the buckle. Finally, he takes over, taking care of the tricky metal contraption with one hand while staring directly into your eyes. It’s at that moment that you finally realize what all of this is doing to you…

The arrogant little smirk on his face while he licks his lips doesn’t help – the whole thing sends shivers down your spine and your body answers with a greedy throb between your thighs. You manage to kick your own boots off before Walter mercilessly tackles you to the bed. With a single, swift move, he rolls you both over, pulling you on top of him so you’re straddling his thighs, his hands firmly on your ass, kneading the soft flesh with admirable determination. His face does a poor job of hiding the fact that he likes what he’s feeling.

When you bend over to press your lips to his again, you shriek in surprise as his hand disappears from its newfound playground and lands there again, only a moment later, with a firm smack. He shoots an apologetic look at you as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and you roll your hips against his by means of a faux-admonishment you’re nowhere near serious about. A man like that can manhandle the ever-loving fuck out of you every damn day. When he groans, your insides turn to jelly. In the heat of everything that’s been happening, you haven’t exactly been paying attention to what this has been doing to him, but that move of your hips makes you instantly aware of the very impressive erection you’re sitting right on top of. Another moan escapes him when you repeat the motion, his hands grabbing your ass tighter – nudging you, urging you to keep moving.

Suddenly, he sits up on the edge of the bed, keeping you in his lap, his hands finally moving underneath the fabric of your skirt. Walter moans again – appreciatively, this time – when his fingers explore the soft lace of your underwear. Then, he chuckles. “For someone who gets cold a lot…”

“Shut up,” you reprimand him before kissing him hard. The line between fun and functional is thin, and it wasn’t that you were expecting to end up in bed with this guy, but you sure as hell were hoping you would, and peeling off tights in the heat of the moment has proven disastrous on many occasions thus far. You shiver when he runs his hands up and down your thighs, lingering just above your knee, where his fingers toy with the hem of your thigh-high socks – an absolute requirement in your marginally successful attempt to not freeze to death – and you feel his cock twitch as he does. He likes them. Good.

Apparently, your smirk is too much for him, because he grabs the backs of your thighs and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Next thing you know, you’re on your back, and Walter hovers over you, diligently seeking out the most sensitive spots on your neck. He kisses a blazing hot trail down your chest, pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched up around your waist. You can almost feel his gaze between your legs, and the way he licks his lips wrings a whimper from your lips. Seconds pass in which you anxiously wait for his reaction – a mocking grin, a victorious chuckle or a vicious smirk filled with pity – but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel a hand on your thigh, creeping higher until you’re not sure if ‘thigh’ is still an appropriate label. His thumb softly trails the thin fabric between your legs. The smile that appears on his face isn’t mocking, cocky or challenging – it’s peaceful and almost grateful in a way you don’t quite understand.

“My turn to get you out of your soaking wet clothes.” It’s a joke, absolutely, but it’s a gentle one, just like his hands are when he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, and he slowly pulls them down.

You’re holding your breath. At first you don’t notice – it really isn’t until his hands slide up your thighs again and you suck in a desperate breath that you realize just how welcome the air is. He pushes your legs apart, settling comfortably between them before using his thumbs to spread your pussy wide. Insecurities plague your brain. You should feel exposed. Insecure. Uncomfortable.

You don’t.

Walter looks up at you with a question in his eyes, and you mouth a breathless answer to his unspoken query. Please. Carefully, he inches closer, until you feel the tickle of the coarse hair on his jaw against the sensitive skin of your thigh. You can see the shiver travel down his spine as he licks a single stripe through your folds, and you moan in unison. Almost immediately, your hand weaves into his hair, pulling his face closer to your center.

He's thorough, relentlessly lapping at your clit while you squirm in his arms, strong hands firmly pressed to the back of your thighs, keeping your legs open for him while he takes his time exploring you, tasting your arousal and learning what works for you. After some time, you notice he settles into a rhythm that might actually work for you, which – as you’re somewhat reluctant to admit, even to yourself – is a rather rare feat. Encouraged by the movement of your hips and the sounds you make, he continues on his mission, and before long your grip on his hair tightens and your squirming gets worse – so much worse, in fact, that he reaches around your thigh to steady your hips against his mouth.

Outside, the rain threatens to turn into a thunderstorm, and if you’d been in any position to notice the weather, you’d have been happy to be inside. As things are, you’re still quite content with your whereabouts, but luckily for completely different reasons. Your back arches off the bed when you come, crying out Walter’s name as you do. With trembling legs, you lay there, your walls pulsing and clenching around nothing. He lets you catch your breath for a moment, his lips never leaving you as he kisses a path up your body again, effortlessly reaching for the clasp of your bra on your back. He doesn’t find it – your favorite just happens to close in the front. Once found, however, that pesky clasp is no match for his capable fingers, and only a moment later you’re shivering as the cold air of your bedroom brushes past your exposed nipples.

He looks at you briefly before latching onto your neck again, gently sucking and biting your skin, making you shiver. One hand finds its way to your chest, fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh, fingers brushing tentatively past your hardening nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers. You whine, writhing against the sheets, goosebumps erupting over your skin – the result of the electrifying combination of the slightest sheen of sweat meeting cool air. He grins. Chuckles. Then, he bends his head to suck one nipple into his mouth, that capable tongue passing over it, toying with it, sharp teeth grazing sensitive skin, luring cries of pleasure from you in abundance.

Your hands all but scramble for the waistband of his underwear, slipping into the dark boxer briefs without a trace of patience. Fuck. Fingers wrap around – try to, at least – his unapologetically massive cock, images of that one night flashing before your eyes as you give him a few gentle strokes. A trembling exhale tells you your ministrations are appreciated, and you smile, hoping this is only the tip of the iceberg – a hope that is soon confirmed truth when he lets out a loud moan as you run your thumb gingerly over the underside of his cock.

A hand on the back of his neck, pulling softly, is enough to guide him to lie down next to you, and he smiles up at you when you sit on your knees. He’s all too eager to help you get rid of his underwear, and when you take your sweet time taking him in, in all his glory, he almost looks shy.

You start with a light kiss on his lips, then work your way down, fingers trailing the expanse of his chest, dragging slowly through the coarse hair on it, further and further down over his abs until they meet his hips, where they linger to draw teasingly light patterns on his skin. A featherlight touch of your lips to the tip of his cock makes him twitch and groan, and a soft tap on your ass urges you to keep going. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and with the tip of your tongue, you circle the head, teasing him until he’s impatiently moaning. His hand hooks around your thigh and pulls you closer – at first you wonder why, but soon after, his fingers run along your slit, searching for your entrance.

He pushes two fingers into your wet core exactly when you swallow as much of his cock as you possibly can, and both of you let out a long moan at the same time. You bob your head up and down his shaft in the same rhythm his fingers pump into you. It’s easy to figure out he likes it sloppy, and you’re happy to oblige. With the delicious symphony of moans and grunts that spill from his lips as an inspiration, you’re enjoying yourself greatly – which makes it all the more disappointing when he pulls his fingers back, a sharp smack on your ass breaking your concentration.

“Come here,” he says huskily, impatiently tugging at your arm.

You straddle his thighs again, reaching for the drawer in your nightstand to grab a condom, and waiting entirely impatiently for him to put it on. Normally, you’re somewhat nervous about being on top, but tonight, you couldn’t care less. You need this man inside of you.

Now.

Walter helps guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself, screwing your eyes shut at the stretch his incredible girth provides. Nails dig into his shoulder so hard he hisses, and you rest your head on his shoulder, whining pitifully against his skin.

“Easy,” he shushes you, sensing whatever distress you’re feeling, “take your time.” His permission helps; you slow down, and steadily make it all the way down his length. You take a moment to get used to the stretch, gradually relaxing around him. It feels no less full, but definitely increasingly less uncomfortable. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. It’s impossible to keep quiet – luckily, you’re not the only one who can’t seem to hold their tongue. Soft praise is mixed in with the abundance of expletives that come out of Walters mouth. “That’s it.” A personal favorite of yours, especially when he says it – a gravelly snarl through gritted teeth.

You could ride him forever – sure, your thighs will be sore tomorrow, but it’ll all have been worth it. Right? He clearly has other plans, pushing you off him unceremoniously. You’re on your stomach, and you half expect him to turn you around – but he doesn’t. Rough hands drag you to your knees, and – knowing what’s about to happen – you don’t bother raising yourself up on your elbows. They’ll give out in no time, anyway. Walter lines up behind you and sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust that has you gasping for air. He’s rough and demanding, yet kind and careful, clearly trying not to hurt you. Every thrust wrenches a moan from your lips, and your hand snakes between your legs, fingers drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re teetering right on the edge of bliss. His laughter when you beg him for more, harder, faster is largely obscured by the sound of rolling thunder outside the window. Your orgasm, when it finally does rip through you like an explosion, is theatrically accompanied by an almost unnaturally well-timed lightning strike.

“Dramatic,” Walter notes dryly behind you, his strained voice signaling his stamina knows a limit after all. In a moment of poetic justice, the storm lulls for a moment when Walter’s orgasm forces a sound from him that could be described as many things, but not ‘charming’. When he pulls out, your walls clench against nothing, and you whine softly at the somehow overwhelming emptiness. “Bathroom?” Walter asks, pointing at the other door in your bedroom. You nod, speechless, before collapsing on your bed.

His return marks the start of that awkward hooked-up-on-the-first-date-dance. Stay? Go? Hookup? Date? Yes? No? You sigh your relief when Walter hesitates for the shortest possible moment before crawling under the covers with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and allowing you to snuggle into his chest.

“Do you mind if I stay?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice. “It’s raining.”

“Is that the only reason you want to stay?” you chuckle. It’s strange. Normally you wouldn’t be so confident he hadn’t been genuine in his remark.

“Well, eh…” he mutters as he nuzzles your hair, “there’s this woman…”

The sun is an unwelcome intruder in your house the next morning, and you do your very best to hide from the rays as long as possible. A new preferred method: burying your face in Walter’s chest. A very nice added bonus to the approach is that it comes with strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight. As far as you’re concerned – and you’re well aware that it’s a little soon to say this after one date, but it’s not like you’re planning on proposing today – you’re not letting this man walk, ever again. He didn’t complain when you warmed your icy feet against his legs yesterday, and the only reaction you get out of him when you put your cold hands on his body is a low grumble and an involuntary shiver.

“Morning,” he groans after a while. By now, you’re awake enough to at least make an attempt at playing host.

“Coffee?” you ask – a suggestion that’s met with an approving grunt.

On your way to the kitchen, you come across his discarded and banned-from-the-bedroom sweater – and you make the mistake of stepping on it, shrieking in surprise when the damp fabric touches your already cold foot. Coffee first, you decide.

“I have some bad news,” you say as you enter your bedroom with two cups of coffee in your hands, his sweater dangling from your pinky. “This is still wet.”

“Oh, god, no,” Walter says with a smile, “whatever will we do to pass the time until it dries?”

[fuegoesquivo]

Yenn Cat

[cweercrippledcrafter]

Hey, I know a load of us are broke so you can't donate, but even sharing this would mean a lot to me.

Our puppy Yenn (yes, she's named after The Witcher, they're my fiancée's favourite games) needs multiple surgeries to improve her quality of life (and hopefully her lifespan) and the insurance is refusing to pay out.

We've nearly lost her to pneumonia three times this year, and the most urgent surgery (BOA, to fix her throat,) should dramatically decrease the chances of that happening again. The total for future surgeries is going to be between £5400 and £7000, but if we can get her throat sorted, which will be £2650-£4150, the chances of her making it through so that we can save for the others are much greater. (We're trying to get her booked in for the initial investigation, which is part of the price listed above, so that we can get a more accurate estimate for how much it will cost.) (EDIT: the investigation is on Monday. Fingers crossed it goes well.)

Yenn is just over a year old and an absolute sweetheart. It's been difficult to find ways to train her due to her health issues, but honestly she's trained herself. You can set food down and leave the room and she won't touch it, and she would do anything for my fiancée. I've never seen a dog as devoted to her mum.

Her favourite activities are people watching out of the window, playing with her mum or other dogs, and cuddling with our cat Pip. She's a wonderful girl and she deserves to grow up.

This gofundme was set up by my fiancée's friend (Lyyka is the name she goes by online), not either of us, so if you have any questions it's best to message me here.

If you read this far, thank you! Here's some photos as a reward, and thanks again for the shares.

[ylva-syverson]

📖 Fic rec time! When you get this, reply with three fics that you've read and loved to pieces, then pass on to at least five other people who read fics. Let’s appreciate fic writers and their amazing stories 💖

@raccoon-eyed-rebel literally anything she’s written, but this gave me endless joy.

Kissed by fire by @wolvesandhoundshowltogether

Eyes that See @just-chirpin

Anything from @littlefreya , @sillyrabbit81 , @geralts-yenn , @peyton-warren , @angryschnauzer , @gummydummy19

There’s so many I’ve loved but see where you go down the fanfic pathway it’s fun.

[hollowgears]

Same person who sent the other kitten ask, YENNE IS AN ADORIBLE NAME AND YES ITS A REFERENCE, am i gonna tell you what it means? Nah, but, tell your mom shes got good taste :)

Kitties should stay on formula until theyre roughly 1 years old, they open their eyes roughly at the age of 1-16 days and i would say maybe its 2 weeks old? Google helps ;-;

warm bath yes, and all the cuddles, I hope Yenne's living happier now, was there any other kittens nearby or meows/crying? Just double checkin

Kitty update #2

So, Little Yene (or Yenne, the spelling really doesn't matter much) is doing very well! She's gotten comfortable in my room, eats a lot and lazes around all day like any cat would, she's adjusting very well

I figured I should tell y'all the story of this little critter

Sunday night my mom found her outside our home, from the story she told me Yene was under a car and almost run over, and when she was picked up my mom realized she was not a feral cat at all, she didn't run from anyone and didn't seem scared of people

It was gonna rain all night so my mom decided to take her inside, my parents never planned to keep a cat as we already have a large dog, not to mention a toddler and baby on the way- however! I have been wanting a cat for years, and Yene just grabbed my heart so I (somehow) managed to convince the family to keep her

The leading theory is that someone's house cat had her and she was abandoned, because she really doesn't act like a stray at all, she's not scared of dogs or people, and doesn't hiss at anything. She was completely alone when we found her so I don't know if she had any siblings

She is as comfy as a kitten can be, I'd say she sleeps 90% of the time lol, also to the people who gave the advice of a warm wattle bottle under her covers- thank you! It's doing wonders to get her used to sleeping in her bed instead of mine

That's it for today's update!

Want to support Yene and I? Check out my Kofi and even get a cool drawing out of it!

[catscraftsandcommentary]

Witchers Meet Fangirls

(Stick with me, this'll be a little long)

Not to sneak into @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU with more headcanons, but what if Jaskier wrote some super sweet love songs about some of the long standing witcher couples - Cedric and Axel, Merten and Leocadie, Gweld and Serrit, Keldar and Ivar, etc.

I mean, Inex already mentions him writing a comic love song for Gweld and Serrit about a wolf wooing a serpent. ("The Red Wolf and the Serpent" from the end of Chapter 1, Into the Light out of Darkness - the one where they conquer Redania, free Aren and the mantikittens, and bring Aleksander/Sasha back to Kaer Morhen.)

And THEN, Yenn publishes the love songs abroad - as she's been doing with his other songs - and people being people, some of the younger folk are like "aw, how cute, I ship it!" And since witchers travel - and can request to be on patrols with their mates - those new fans of witcher couples might someday get to MEET their new favorite ship!

From a human point of view, you've been listening to all these lovely romantic ballads about a love that lasts centuries, through monsters and wars and standing up to your own brothers, and then! Then! One of those couples! Walks into your village!

(And they're just as sweet and fierce and in love as the songs all claim, aaaaaw!)

From a witcher's point of view, the songs are sweet, but the way people stare now is...a little creepy. And follow them around. And titter. Gods, the giggling, WHY.

Cedric and Axel haven't had this much trouble finding a quiet spot to screw in decades. Everyone keeps smiling at them!

They reach a town where there will be a festival in a few days, and far from being run out of town (pre-Ard Carraigh) or mostly ignored (recent years), Cedric and Axel are asked to be the special guests.

What. The. HELL.

...apparently it's a love festival, and having a couple whose love has lasted many years adds a greater blessing to it, or something. They just get special seats and food and drinks and more people cooing at them all day. Because they've been in love almost two centuries, which is twice the length of any previous couples they had preside over the festival.

And then a priestess asks if they'd like to renew their vows and lead the villagers who are participating in renewing theirs, and the two Cats are like "...vows. What? We're witchers. We don't MAKE vows, we just pick someone. And if they like us too, then we stay together."

But they think about it, and really...it's not such a bad idea. Maybe not to make the vows to any gods, but to declare publicly that this person is yours, and you theirs, by your own choices, forevermore.

(Also, as chaos loving Cats, if their example pushes any other lovers among the witchers to marry their beloveds...then why not? It'll be fun to see if Geralt, Eskel, and Jaskier ever marry publicly.)

[luminalightsverse]

Join our Star Wars RP group or something

Decided to do a new rp list and joining invitation because our group got way bigger and I thought it would be smart to also tag the accounts if someone wants to write with a character but don't really want to join a group. Our group mainly plays while TCW and TBB.

Canon characters:

Obi-Wan Kenobi: @masterobi1kenobi

Anakin Skywalker: @jedimasterskyguy

Ahsoka Tano: @commandersnippy (young), @areyouhappychild (older)

Plo Koon: @104th-plo-koon

Rex: @captain-tyrannosaurus

Cody: @its-cody-not-kote, @cody-2224

Pong Krell: @general-krell

Sheev Palpatine/Darth Sidious: @emperor-sheev-palpatine

Hunter: @sergeantbandana

Omega: @lil-mega

Wrecker: @wrecker-and-lula

Tech: @seldom-wrong

Crosshair: @help-from-above-ct-9904

Echo: @theechoinhere

Cid: @cidsparlor

AZI: @your-assigned-medical-droid

Fives: @guess-whos-back-fives

Boba Fett: @lucky-boba-fett (Young)

Rampart: @vice-admiral-rampart

Jango Fett: @fett-the-original-jango

Darth Vader: @thistechnologicalterror (redeemed)

General Grievous: @eldritchsnap

Ocs:

Theodosia Skywalker: @there-is-another-skywalker

Striker: @striker-reckoning

Valeria Beroya: @jedi-mom

Lor Beroya: @commander-buir-cc-3773

Solon Beroya: @sol-ika-beroya

Slip: @ct3113official

Yennes: @stop-calling-me-bluey

Calico: @little-wolffepup

Oona Leto: @chibi-gremlin

Thrasher: @a-soldier-named-thrasher

Caym: @odd-caym-out

Triko Vale: @kyberkeeper

Avem Springs: @avem-springs

Tama Ryhn: @tama-llama

Ger Springs: @ger-springs

Suu Tei: @darth-sathanas

Nina Anansi: @nina-anansi

Aldea Montifique: eldritchsnap

Multimuse (Canon)

Wolffe, Sinker, Boost, Comet (+ Oc's Corvis and Seal): @thewolfpackrules

Multimuse (Oc)

Sasha Oxlade, Blair Celtus, Baer, Digitalis: @fandoms-o-plenty

Shiv, Paws, Mesh, Flack etc.: @toebeansandotherbaes

Clone Force 87: @clone-force-87

Rebels

Sabine Wren: @themandalorianartist

Alexsandr Kallus: @askalexsandrkallus

Kanan Jarrus: @kananjarrusjediknight

Ezra Bridger: @lothal-cat-jedi

Chopper: @chopper-the-metal-menace

[soymimikyu]

Witcher Season 3 Ep 3

Watching the witcher season 3 long enough after it aired that such posts should probably be safe? The most burning question (hurr hurr) so far is what did Rience do with the cat? Are they friends? He seems like a cat chap. Would Stregobor let him keep a cat? The cat is presumably house broken (and maybe magical -- cats are magic iirc in the witcher world). What would he name the cat -- did the cat have a name? I don't think the cat did. Does Aretuza permit cats? Cat mascot?

Regardless -- it is a good cat and I hope it is happy at Aretuza.

It reminds me on season 1's assassins bug that Yenn sliced up.