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[ID: a very simply drawn three panel comic. the first panel shows a person approaching a cat that's laying on the floor and reaching down to hug her, saying "gertie." the second panel shows two coins falling from the person's shirt pocket. the third panel shows the coins bouncing off the cat, who doesn't care.]

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Torture to be a fan of any exotic animal when it's like. 90% of the footage of them is gonna be from dodo videos of people illegally keeping them as housepets . Really wish I could enjoy this video of a lynx but I also kinda wish everyone involved would die

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@wandixx

Either of them come across lost kid in the crowd

When Auntie had suggested going to the park for some fresh air, Carry had agreed. Of course he had. She could have suggested he throw himself into the water and he probably would have done it. (Assertiveness was still a work in progress.) He didn’t think, though, that she knew about the festival going on.

Or maybe she had?

Carry doubted anyone really knew what sort of things were part of her plotting or just her good luck.

It was just that… now he was in the middle of a festival. There were people and a cacophony of noises and bright colors and people. Carry took a breath and let it out slowly. He counted to ten. He didn’t know how much it helped, but he walked into the crowd anyways.

Maybe he could find somewhere in the shade to sit, and, if not, he could at least say that he tried. It was just people. He used to have no issue with crowds of people. He even used to enjoy them! But he used to be a lot of things, hadn’t he? Before he was a failure.

Carry shook is head, trying to get rid of that thought.

It was a festival.

Be happy.

Carry squeezed past people, dodged small children, pet a few dogs, and finally made his way to where he could hear the band currently playing in the pavilion. They weren’t bad, in an inoffensive way, so Carry found a spot of shade to sit in and listen.

The life of the festival ebbed and flowed around him. Kids went off and came back with hands full of cotton candy or balloons or large off brand stuffed animals. Young couples kissed. Old couples dragged each other out onto the makeshift dance floor.

It… it was nice.

Simple.

Happy.

Carry was just considering actually getting himself a churro when the unmistakable sound of a kid’s sob broke the air. That wouldn’t mean much, not at a busy festival, but there was no comforting parent voice following the sound up.

“D-daddy? M-mommy?” The sob came again.

Carry looked into the crowd. No kid. Right, left… then behind the tree. A kid—little enough that Carry figured elementary school was an okay guess—was rubbing at their eyes. A balloon was clutched desperately in their other hand, as if it was the only thing keeping them safe.

Carry crouched down to the side of the tree. “Hey. I’m Carry. What’s your name?”

“H-harper.”

“Nice to meet you Harper. I love your balloon,” Carry said with a smile. “The confetti in it is really cool.”

“Thank you,” Harper mumbled. They finally peered out at Carry from over their tear stained fist.

“You’re welcome. Are you okay? Did you lose your parents?”

Harper nodded. Their lip wobbled.

“That’s okay, we’ll find them,” Carry said with more confidence than he ever had. He’d make sure someone did, even if they ended up needing to go to security. “Do you remember where you last saw them?”

“The b-balloons,” Harper mumbled. Slowly they found their voice. “Daddy got me my balloon and then Mommy called over by the… um… the lemon ice! I tried to hold his hand I promise!”

“I’m sure you did. But there’s so many people it can be a little hard,” Carry said. “How about you hold my hand for a little bit, and we’ll go back by the balloons, okay? If you’re ever lost, you should stay where you lost your parents or teacher so they can find you.”

“Okay, thank you,” Harper said. They rubbed their hand against their t-shirt, smearing tears over the pink dinosaur, before they reached out and took Carry’s hand in theirs.

The hand felt almost impossibly small as they started off into the crowd. Carry was very sure to not let go as they moved rather slowly towards the balloon stand. Which at least was easy to see even with the crowd.

The balloons were looming close when a shout cut through the noise. “Harper!”

“Daddy!” Harper yelled back.

Carry still didn’t let go until the man was right there, dropping to his knees in from of Harper and pulling them into a hug.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry that I let go! I didn’t mean to,” Harper’s dad pleaded into her hair as he hugger her close.

“It’s okay Daddy! Carry helped me! They held my hand the whole way!” Harper said, cheerful in the way that only a little kid could be after something traumatic.

Their dad looked up. “Thank you so much—”

“Harper!”

“She’s here!” the Dad said. He hoisted Harper up onto his hip as he stood.

The woman who had called out ran up and kissed Harper on the forehead, talking frantically to her in a language that Carry could only barely recognize.

“Carry here helped Harper find us,” the dad said, with a little wave of his fingers towards Carry.

“Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you,” the mother said as she took Carry’s hand.

“It was nothing—”

She let go of his hand after another squeeze before she dug around in her cross body bag. “Please, take this.”

“No, it’s okay,” Carry said, waving away the offered money. “I’m just glad that we found you so quickly.’

“We insist,” Harper’s dad said.

“Really, it’s fine!” Carry said. “ Remember Harper, if you get lost again stay near where you were lost, okay?”

“Yes Carry!” Harper chirped.

“Thank you again, really,” their dad said.

“Yes, thank you,” their mom urged with another shake of Carry’s hand.

When they disappeared into the crowd, Carry was left with a twenty dollar bill in his hand and a feeling of exasperated bemusement. He was getting some churros he guessed and maybe even a frozen lemonade. He could stay a little longer.

Just a bit.

---

AN: Sad Puppy got a name! (Carry, short for Carson. Might become Cary?). And was more anxious than expected? This is probably pre-story but ㄟ( ▔, ▔ )ㄏ. Hopefully you like him.

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“Medieval peasants couldn’t handle my Spotify playlist” but could YOU handle a medieval bard relaying the epic of Beowulf over the course of an hour? Humble yourself.

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Hope for the democratic party?

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we need to have more open conversations about metoidioplasty and phalloplasty. trying to scare trans men out of gender affirming surgeries with vague and outdated science is bad. actually.

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There is still time by @/luvnotee

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Went to the thrift store with my dad and found a shirt that said, "Devorced Parents Surviver." He did not find it as funny as I did. (Of course I bought it)

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Reblog to give prev a fucking break holy shit y’all

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Btw you should hug that t girl who's always putting others before herself

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love leopard seals. they are so dragon coded. that is an entire mammalian marine wyrm

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My favorite signage from the NEW Zoo in northern Wisconsin.

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a Very Important Purchase