#I really hope she does so we can get her to the vet

[theworstcreature]

Chat what if I started crying

Tw for animal death in the tags

[lastoneout]

We're currently switch my cat's food and litter to try to figure out what's causing this weird mystery allergy she's had for the last like 5 years and I was kinda worried she wouldn't like the new food bcs you never know, but actually she likes it so much it's actually ridiculous. Cuz like when you switch a cat(or dog's) food you have to taper it like a medication, you keep giving them the old food but slowly mix in more and more of the new food while mixing in less of the old, cuz if you don't you can make them sick, and she is SO SO SO mad that I keep giving her ANY of the old food.

Whenever I go to fill up her bowl I first add in the old food and then mix in the new, and while she used to just immediately start eating when I'd pour her food now she just watches me do the first one, sniffs the bowl, and then sits back and stares at me like "uh mother it appears there's been an error" and then when I reach for the other food she looses her MIND and starts shoving her face in my way and meowing and getting all excited and she only starts eating once it's mixed in.

So like, glad she enjoys the new stuff at least!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mimic III

McFoord x Toddler!Reader

Summary: You're being suspicious

There is a hole underneath your fence, at the very end of the garden.

Also at the end of the garden, is a shed. It doesn't get used much so it's a little run down.

There's no connection between the hole and the fence, not an obvious one anyway. Not one that would make Caitlin investigate them both so obviously.

She's much more concerned finding out the reason for your strange behaviour.

You've been shifty recently, which is especially strange for such a little girl. Your second birthday is coming up very quickly but you've seemed to develop fairly quickly now that you've been hanging around with Sam and Kristie's Chook when Caitlin and Katie are busy.

You've also gotten shockingly independent.

There's no need for your leash when you're in the house and Caitlin's happy to let you run around the garden by yourself as she does the dishes, checking on you through the windows periodically.

You're being a little weird and what's even weirder is Coopurr's food going missing.

Caitlin's sure that she's not overfeeding him because he hasn't put on any weight but his biscuits and his wet food are going down so quickly that someone must be taking them.

That someone, it turns out, is you.

Caitlin catches you doing it one afternoon when you grab the whole box of biscuits and a sachet of wet food before toddling out to the garden.

She sighs, letting you scamper up the far side and duck behind the shed before getting up to follow you.

Caitlin really hopes you haven't been eating them like you were when you were younger.

"Gremlin!" She calls," Don't take-"

A puffed up ball of fur hisses at her from where it's dangling from the scruff of it's neck in your hand.

"What is that?!"

"My Spicy!" You say proudly," Spicy, Spicy, Spicy!"

"Katie!" Caitlin yells," You better come out here!"

You're still holding the kitten by the back of the neck, humming to yourself as Caitlin notices the pile of cat food you're been hoarding.

She crouches in front of you, gently reaching for the kitten before flinching back when it tries to scratch her. "Where...Where did you find it?"

"Stuck under fence," You tell Caitlin," I save Spicy."

Caitlin forces a smile on her face. "That's nice. How long have you been looking after him?"

"One week," You reply," My Spicy is special!"

Caitlin warily shuffles closer, kept at bay by the flashing claws off this feral kitten.

"You're being very good with Spicy but can I have him?"

You frown. "Spicy's hungry."

"I'll feed him."

"Caitlin? What's-"

Katie skids to a stop in front of you both, mouth hanging open and discarded dish towel on her shoulder from where she was using it to dry the dishes.

"Spicy, my kitty!" You exclaim," See?"

Spicy snarls and Katie very gently throws the dish towel at him before taking him from your grip.

"Spicy!" You cry, moving to kick Katie but Caitlin's already got you by the back of your overalls, dangling you above the ground as you whine," My Spicy!"

"Katie's just...taking Spicy for a bath."

"I am?"

"Yes, Katie, you are and then we'll take Spicy to the vet."

Secretly, Caitlin hopes the vet will tell her that she needs to take the kitten to the shelter. She doesn't particularly want it in her house but you seem to have gotten attached, if the way you keep fighting against her hold is any indication.

"Want Spicy! Spicy's mine!"

There's that as well and, when Katie comes downstairs with the kitten suitably pissed off and still hissing, you go straight up to it for cuddles and it relaxes in your arms.

"No vet for Spicy!" You insist," Spicy's good!"

"I'm sure Spicy is..." Katie's arms are full of scratches. "...Tolerable but we still need to check he's not sick."

"Then bring home!"

"I don't know, Gremlin, he might want to be with other cats." Katie's very proud of herself for coming up with that excuse, mentally patting herself on the back even as Caitlin shakes her head in disbelief.

You unwrap her excuse so easily, pointing to where Coopurr is sitting, licking his own bum.

"Have Coopurr," You point out," Coopurr is cat. Spicy is cat."

"Er..."

"We keep Spicy," You declare, nodding and rocking your new kitten," Spicy, new home!"

[petr1kov]

lmao you guys won't believe what happened to me tonight. my cat charlotte was playing and jumping around as she always does, but she knocked down an iron chair and got one of her little legs crushed under the weight of it (because the little idiot clung down to the chair as it fell instead of jumping out of it). she didn't have any visible injuries, but was crying and limping, so i had to take her to the doctor immediately. sure enough, after a battery of exams and a bunch x-rays, it turns out that the worst possible scenario was real and she (seemingly) irreversibly fractured one of the bones in her knee. she had to be sedated and medicated in order to take these exams and is a bit loopy right now.

so, out of absolutely nowhere, i had to come up with over a 1000 reais total to pay for her stay there at this very night - nearly all of my savings for this month. 929 for the exams, and another 100 or so for medicine, so she won't feel pain while we wait for her to get to an orthopedist. the vet said that she will very likely need surgery or risk healing it wrong, but only the orthopedist can say for sure. i really hope she won't need to do it, for every reason in the world, but we'll see in a few days.

anyway, all of this to say that unfortunately, i must once again ask for your financial help, as currently, i don't have enough money left for me to even pay the orthopedist i'll have to schedule (and definitely not enough for me to live through the rest of the month, regardless). so if you're able to, please consider donating something to my account! and if not, just spreading this post around will be a huge help. thank you! 💞

k0-fi ✨

[qqueenofhades]

re your tags on that last post, you could say he was...biden his time

BA DUMP TSHH.

I think that everyone, having gotten through the initial 24 hours of rage, fear, terror, confusion, anger, and frustration, is coming around to the idea that this was possibly a good thing and has undoubtedly given the Democratic ticket a much-needed jolt of energy. There are still all the very valid conversations to be had about the sway of a tiny group of billionaire donors, the media and Anonymous Democratic Sources bullying, the decision to torch Biden when they could so easily (so! easily!!!) have done it to Trump at any time and have clearly decided to go FULLY into the tank for him instead. This has many worrisome implications for democracy, and it's not something to be celebrated. All of that is still very much true.

However, now that we have had concrete evidence of the party immediately cohering around Kamala and the grassroots donors busting down the door to give her money, it may also turn out that this was a very wise political jiu-jitsu move by a very crafty political veteran like Biden. As the post I just reblogged pointed out, he did it AFTER the GOP convention, when the Republicans had already locked in (by any reasonable metric) a terrible, terrible ticket. It makes the Democrats look like the ones responsive to the American people demanding a younger and more mentally "with it" candidate (no matter how obvious the slurs about ageism were in regard to Biden when Trump is literally THREE YEARS YOUNGER and far more obviously scrambled). It opens all the excitement and historic firsts of Obama in 2008, it gives the perfect "Prosecutor vs. Felon" tagline that's really easy to run with and stick in people's minds, it is beautiful revenge for all Trump's horrible sexist behavior in 2016 (and really, his whole life) and it gives the Democrats the narrative, if they can FUCKING STICK TOGETHER AND STOP STABBING EACH OTHER IN THE BACK. Now we get to hear about Kamala's running mate, Kamala's plans, feel-good pieces about how she appeals to youth, women/people of color, etc. etc. ALL THAT IS GOOD.

I think/hope the DNC will now be a massive celebration of Biden, who after all came out of retirement when he was already old to take on Trump, beat him, deliver an incredibly successful presidency, and pass the torch on to Kamala. I saw some criticism of Obama yesterday for not endorsing her immediately, but what I read is that he/the other Democratic big beasts (Pelosi, Schumer, etc) want to be a uniting figure with an endorsement of the final candidate, if there was a contested primary beforehand. Thank fuck, it doesn't look like there will be, but it also means that they might wait until the DNC before openly endorsing her. Now, I am still angry at the Biden knifing that all these three were complicit in to some degree, BUT I also have no doubt that if/when Kamala is confirmed as the nominee, they will line up behind her to endorse her and her VP pick. I have seen Mark Kelly, Roy Cooper, etc as possible picks (since alas, she will probably have to pick a straight white man; Kelly would be replaced in the Senate by Democratic AZ governor Katie Hobbs; Cooper is term-limited as governor in NC and might help us target that state for a flip). But what is number one most important is that we support her and whoever she DOES choose. I have also heard that she is already in the process of vetting picks and this is exciting news.

I am thrilled to vote for a woman for POTUS the second time in a few years, I think she has a real shot at winning, and I am heartened by how the base has rallied to Kamala in 24 hours. Let's fucking go. As my new office decoration says:

[highonmarvel]

hi hope ur doing well. i was thinking, could u do a buckyxreader where hes paralyzed and like needs a caretaker. through some means reader ends up as the caretaker and all is well. but actually bucky was just pretending and hes not realy paralysed and he just pretended to get closer to reader and reader start expresing the idea that she might have to leave for whatever reason and buck does not like that so like he kidnaps her or something. I rlly luv ur work this is the first request iv sent

this is so good, i’m upset i didn’t think of it first. i’m so sorry for taking so long to get back to you, i really hope you enjoy, and thank you so, so much for the love. okay, here it is:

Himalayan Salt

Bucky Barnes: You’re assigned to a notoriously grumpy war vet, but he’s different with you.

content warnings here!

You nod as your supervisor goes over your final notes: James Barnes, World War II veteran, quadriplegic.

You follow her from the overcast weather into a beautiful but modest home in a fairly quiet suburb to meet the man sitting in a wheelchair in the centre of the room.

“Good morning, Mr Barnes,” your supervisor calls, tucking her clipboard under her arm as she waits for him to turn around. When he does, you’re surprised. You hadn’t seen a photo of him beforehand as this had been a pretty impromptu assignment, but you’re sure you were told he was born in 1917, yet he sits looking like he’s in forties, and aging well, at that.

“Hi, Mr Barnes!” you smile warmly at him, and he returns a friendly smile, introducing himself as Bucky and insisting you call him that.

“I just need you to fill out the last of the forms quickly,” your supervisor mutters, waving goodbye to Bucky as she leads you back out to her car.

You’re leaning against the boot of her oldish, red car, pen scratching against paper when she says, “He really likes you.”

“Hm?” you offer, raising your eyebrows but keeping your eyes focused on the form.

She leans her back against the trunk and shifts down a bit, speaking to you but looking over at your handwriting, “He’s known to be grumpy. You see the left arm? I don’t think he likes being dependent, I’ve had to swap out a lot of people.”

“And you didn’t tell me this before I took the job?” you frown, still finishing off the document, “Didn’t think I could handle it?”

“I know you’re capable, but I thought you wouldn’t want it. But listen, the organisation needs this, I don’t know if there’s anyone else we can find for him.”

You complete your signature with a satisfied smile, handing back the clipboard, “Don’t worry, I can do this.”

She nods then gets in her car and drives away, leaving you in the driveway. You stretch your arms then make your way back inside. When you enter the living room, there’s a draft you swear wasn’t here a few minutes ago. Bucky hasn’t moved, but you notice an open window. You furrow your brows as you look down at him, “Can I close that? It’s a bit chilly in here.”

“Go ahead,” he nods, and you walk over, pulling the handle it, and ignoring the recent-looking fingerprint marks on the glass.

***

A few hours into your first day, you’re a little taken aback by how friendly he is; even despite your boss’ warning, you’ve never had a patient so willing to co-operate, especially not veterans — they tend to be angry they need help, or have episodes due to PTSD, but Bucky seems perfectly in his right mind and understanding of both his and your position.

“Did they tell you I was a pain in ass?” Bucky asks before opening his mouth for a spoonful of food.

You laugh as you pull the spoon back, scooping up more of the rice and curry you made to lift to his lips, “Kind of,” you admit, “Said you were grumpy, is that true?”

He smiles, “I tend to be,” he confesses, “But I can’t keep that brooding persona up around you,” he takes a spoonful.

“So that’s what it is?” you raise an eyebrow as you pile the last of the meal onto the utensil, “A persona?”

He swallows the last of it and shakes his head with a grin, “No, but I can’t not be amused around you.”

***

You have no idea why your supervisor said he was difficult, your next few weeks with Bucky are light and fun, and you feel you’re even developing a friendship. You don’t see to him at night, and he has minimal needs during the day — some days it just feels like you’re there to keep him company.

You’re doing so well, in fact, that your supervisor wants to transfer you to a veteran from Vietnam who’s apparently even worse than Bucky (by other people’s stories — to you, if he’s anything like Bucky, he’ll be nice to see), convinced you have some magic touch.

As much as you’re developing affection for Bucky, you have to put work first, and you’re compelled to leave him for the other man who clearly needs you more. Bucky seems to be doing well, you’re sure you can’t be that special, and you’re sure someone else could take care of him just as well, if not better.

“Hi, Buck,” you greet with a smile as you close the door behind you. You hear his motorised wheelchair come rolling down the corridor to greet you.

“Hi, why could you only come in at ten today?”

You usually come in at seven on weekdays and eight on weekends.

“Sorry, I had a meeting,” you sigh, setting your tote bag down as Bucky switches his chair to manual.

“A meeting?” he asks as you take hold of the handles and push him to the other side of the kitchen island.

“Mhm,” you nod as you open the fridge, rummaging around for something to make, “There’s this other guy my boss wants me to help,” you call with your head still in the cold, “A Vietnam vet, no one else in the org will take him.”

You emerge with some eggs and milk, shutting the door with your foot before placing the contents on the island, “Did you eat? I assume Carol made breakfast but I can make more.”

“Are you going to take it?” he inquires, ignoring your question, “The job.”

“I mean, maybe,” you answer, placing your hands on the counter and tilting your head as you think, “I’m not sure yet.”

“But what about me?”

“The other guy needs full-time care, I’d have to spend virtually all my days there, but if I leave, Carol can take over for me, she can go from night to day, she’s amazing, and she doesn’t complain about you, at least not as much,” you wink, but he doesn’t crack a smile.

“Bucky, I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s just that—”

“It’s your job, I get it,” he replies, and you can see the stoicism build up.

“Nothing’s final, yet,” you say as you walk over, “And you’re doing great either way,” you give him a kiss on the forehead, “We don’t have to talk about that, let’s just eat, I’m starving.”

He nods and attempts to smile, but you can tell it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You try to make conversation as you make yourself an omelette, but you can tell he’s not in it, giving short answers and not reacting to your jokes. When you reach to grab the salt, he stops you.

“Not that one,” he says, “Use the pink salt, Himalayan, I swear it makes everything tastes better.”

You grind some onto your food and sit across from him on the island. Digging your fork into it, you see something flash across Bucky’s eyes. Your first thought is hunger, but he’d just eaten and swore he wasn’t hungry. You ignore it as you bring the fork to your mouth, savouring the taste, though it’s not necessarily a chef’s rendition.

It tastes fine, but there’s something off. At first, you think it must be the salt, but it’s not the taste that’s off; usually when you eat, you feel that warmth in your throat and then your stomach, but now, it’s like it went to your head. You press a hand to your forehead, feeling like you’re burning up. Trying to stand, you immediately sway, only not falling by gripping the counter so harshly and hastily you bend a nail. You try to look to Bucky to tell him you’re not feeling well, but he’s out of focus. In fact, he’s not there. Just as you collapse and close your eyes, you feel a tall shadow over you, but you don’t have time to figure out where it’s coming from before you fall unconscious.

***

You groggily wipe at your eyes when you finally stir before turning over to reach for your phone, at first thinking you had had a dream, but your phone’s not there, and the nightstand isn’t yours. You shoot up in panic and look down at your sheets: Bucky’s sheets. Okay, maybe Bucky rang Carol and she came and set you in bed. Your head still hurts, and everything’s a little hazy.

When the door opens, you expect to see Carol, but it’s Bucky.

“Bucky!” you gasp as you throw the sheets off of you.

He gives a lopsided grin, and for the first time you notice how tall he actually is, because he’s standing.

“Christmas miracle?” he offers.

He walks over to you and sets a glass of water on the bedside table.

“That Himalayan salt is really exotic, isn’t it?”

You don’t even have time to process exactly what he means by that, he’s still standing over you, using his arms and legs just fine, in fact, like he’s been doing it every single day forever. You should have suspected something was up; how could a paralysed man stay in such good shape? The thought briefly crossed your mind once when you ran your fingers over his muscled arm, but you brushed it off.

“Bucky! You- you—”

“Are perfectly fine, I am, and you will be too, soon, those drugs just need to wear off. I know you’re having trouble understanding, just drink some water and sleep it off a little longer.”

He leans down to give you a kiss on the forehead, but you dodge him, nearly falling off the bed in the process.

“Woah, there,” he chuckles as he catches you with ease, his reflexes so sharp it’s nearly unnatural, “Now I’m taking care of you.”

You’re not sure if you can’t speak because of the drugs or if it’s because you’re in shock. He gently sets you back down and your head falls against the pillow as you struggle to keep your eyes open, spots of black blocking little bits of your vision.

“I’ve been needing someone, I’ve gone through a few, but you, honey, you’re special, and I knew it from the moment I saw you. You can’t leave me, I still need you.”

✪

[taglist; @cjand10]

[rapz-rites]

Hearts

Damian Wayne x Reader

You and your soulmate can feel each other's heartbeat 

A/N: for @thesuperiorrobin btw I started writing this super late at night so it might not be the best but I hope you all like this

Word Count: 1.1k+

Warning(s): Barely proofread, loophole cursewords

You jolted up from your sleep. 4 times a week, 3 if you’re lucky. Like clockwork. Your soulmate's heart beats so fast, so hard, it wakes you up. You would think he was having a heart attack. 

You don’t know what your soulmate does that gets his heart beating so fast in the middle of the night. You found this whole heartbeat soulmate thing so stupid. Of all the things you and your soulmate had to share, a heartbeat, seriously?

On everyone’s 10th birthday, they start “sharing” their soulmate's heartbeat. It's not really sharing though, so you didn't understand why they explained it that way. Probably to romanticize it. 

You couldn’t go back to sleep until about 4am. But that didn’t matter because your alarm went off 2 hours later. You hated your life. Not only did you get no sleep because of your stupid soulmate but you had to get ready for school, a school filled with pompous a-holes. Luckily it was your last year and you only had a few more months left until you graduated.

~

You walk into class late, everyone looking up at you. Luckily for you, your teacher is nice enough to let it slide. 

“Hey” you said to the boy you usually sat by. His name was Damian, Damian Wayne. Yup. As in Billionaire “playboy” Bruce Wayne.

“What now L/N?” He asked. He looked up at you with an annoyed expression. Damn. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. 

“Do you think you could help me with number 5?” You looked at him with pleading eyes. “Pretty please.”

“Sure.” And he did. You didn’t really need help, you just wanted to bother and talk to Damian. 

The two of you were close acquaintances but not friends. He was you favorite pompous rich a-hole and you were one the most tolerable people at GA to Damian

After this class you were done. You were transferring books to and from your backpack when your best friend, Lienne, pulled up next to you. 

“What are you doing after school? Do you want to have a sleep-” If you didn’t stop her now it would turn into an investigation.

“I’m working at the clinic after school, but I can come over after and we can have a sleepover all you want,” you smiled at her.

“Ok. See you after work. Oh, and bring those chips I like please,” she says walking away. You chuckled at her.

You worked at a pet shop clinic. You loved it. You weren’t a people person, you were a pet person. I loved cats, dogs, and hamsters. Any domestic house pet you could get your hands on, you loved it. They were so much easier to deal with than people. 

You were peacefully playing with a hamster while it was quiet in the store. Suddenly 2 men rush in. You put the hamster back in its cage and turned to the 2 men. They both looked like they were freaking out.

“We need your help! Like it's an emergency,” the tall one said. He had jet black hair and a white streak at the front. Then the second one spoke up.

“It’s our brother's cat,” the other one said. He was shorter, maybe 5’10/11. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He handed you an adorable little tuxedo cat. You couldn’t help but awe at it.

“Sure, what happened? Our vet is currently busy, but I can check him out and get him to see him as soon as possible.” you walked them into an exam room in the clinic. As you were assessing the cat, your boss walked in. 

“What's going on here?” He asked. You explained what happened and gave your assessment of the cat to your boss. He complimented you on your good work and took over. You were happy until you felt a strain on your heart. Something was wrong with your soulmate. It felt like he was having a panic attack or something. You went to the front of the store to sit down. You were trying to steady your heartbeat to cancel his out. But of course as you sat down, someone walked in. It was none other than Damian Wayne.

“Where’s Alfred? Where’s my cat?” he asked. You walked up to him to get his attention. You were holding onto his arm while he was looking around frantically.

“Your cat? Is he a tuxedo cat?” He immediately looked down at you. “You’ve seen Alfred? Where is he?”

“Your brothers brought him in,” you explained to him calmly. You were already trying to calm your soulmate’s heartbeat and now you have to calm a frantic billionaire son. He was spouting nonsense you didnt want to listen to while you ushered him to a chair.

“Listen Wayne,” you said, shutting him up. “Your brothers brought him in. I assessed him and the vet is now with him. He's going to be fine”

You could tell your words helped, but he was still anxious. It was kinda cute that he cared this much for a cat. One time you saw him roll his eyes at a school assembly about suicide. But he was still breathing heavily. At this point your heartbeat was calm but you could still feel your soulmate’s fast heart.

You took Damian’s hand and put it over your heart, and you did the same to him. That's when you felt it. People who already met their soulmates said once you know it's this indescribable, thrilling feeling. They were right. It was like time stopped and nothing else mattered. Your hearts synced and that's all you both felt. You both stared into each other’s eyes. You opened your mouth to speak but was interrupted. 

“Are we interrupting something?” The tall brother asked. You quickly moved back from Damian, putting your hands at your side.

“Yes”

“No”

You both spoke in unison. You looked at him, but he was glaring at his brothers.

“So what did Dr. Goldwin say?” you asked, smiling before it got awkward.

~

“OMG OMG OMG!” Lienne squealed, jumping around her room. “YOUR SOULMATE IS DAMIAN WAYNE.”

You weren’t surprised at her reaction when you told her. She always had a knack for the dramatics. As she was jumping around, spouting how beautiful your wedding was going to be, you got a text from your “future husband”.

Damian ☹️: Hello Y/N

                    Let’s go out on a date Saturday

                    Send me your address and I'll pick you up at 2pm

Y/N : I’d love to go out with you 😉

You’ll tell Lienne once she calms down. She's going to freak.

So… what do you think???

I’m working on request so plz don’t think I forgot abt those.

[fallstreakfeathers]

Where Light Dwells- part II (Sekido Pet!AU)

Warnings: au typical trauma

Word Count: 8,658

If it's unreadable, try it on Ao3 : Where Light Dwells Part 1 is Here @hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha Spife come get ur food

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚══════════════════════════════════════════╝

Rain pelts your windows like small stones as you turn into the dark parking lot. It’s empty, except for a couple employee cars, not that it really surprises you. You’re thankful, actually, as you crash through the door, water dripping from the coat you wear to hide your injury, panting with exhaustion from trying to outrun the storm.

An old woman sits at the reception desk, tapping away on an old keyboard.

A small black sign in gaudy cursive tells you her name is Angela.

“Please, I need help! My demon is… he’s very sick, I-I-I think he might be dying,” you stammer, stumbling over the words in the rush to get them out. “He’s in my car - I can’t carry him alone!”

The receptionist adjusts her reading glasses peering over them at you as if you’ve grown a second head. The wind pushes rain against the window in waves forceful enough that it almost sounds like laughter- like the very weather is mocking your urgency.

“He’s hurt bad!”

She shakes her head.

“I’m sure he’s just a bit ill, dear,” says the woman with a kindly smile. An attempt to reassure you. “Demons rarely get sick, but I promise you, whatever’s going on, it’s nothing he won’t heal from.” You shake your head vigorously.

“You don’t understand. I don’t think you’ve ever seen anything like this. I’m begging you. Please help him. He’s in my car,” you repeat, waving your good arm helplessly. “H-he can’t stand. He's thrown up everywhere, and he can’t talk and he... he’s…” you interrupt yourself with a frustrated sob. You are so out of your league.

“Okay, alright,” the woman behind the desk says with another glance at you, “I’ll go check, okay? Try to calm down.”

The fear in your voice is strong enough for the receptionist to become concerned, though her look was one of pity and confusion.

No one has ever been so worried about a demon.

Still, she follows you out into the icy rain and to your car as you nearly trip over your own feet.

You open the door and the receptionist immediately puts her hand to her nose.

“Oh…”

She takes one look inside and gasps.

Sekido lays there motionless and with dried vomit around his mouth. Trembling in his semi-conscious state. Bleeding with every wheezing breath.

“Oh my...” her face turns pale as she turns to you. “Let me get help.” Angela rushes back into the building, leaving you alone with Sekido.

You place your hand on his shoulder and rub gently in motions you hope are soothing.

He does not make a sound, doesn’t have the strength.

You don’t even know if he can feel you, though you can feel the wheeze in his chest as it falls.

Don’t know if he can hear you. There’s shouting from inside the building, and a glance at the too meticulously cleaned doors of the facility shows that several people scuttling about like ants.

You turn your attention back to your demon. “You’ll be fine,” you assure him for the umpteenth time that day as the technician reappears.

She is followed by a man you assume is the vet - a tall, stern-looking man in a white coat and round glasses, pulling a stretcher behind him. Without stopping to process his own astonishment at the sight, the vet carefully moves the demon to the bed with Angela’s help and gets him inside just as quickly.

You can see them stringing your demon up with a transparent fluid, and another nurse seems to take his pulse. The bewildered look on his face doesn’t encourage you- begins stripping what hope you’ve clung to. You try to follow them, to stay with Sekido, but Angela holds out her thin arm to stop you just before your hand reaches the door that leads into the back.

“We can’t have you back there right now, hon,” she shakes her head, motioning towards her desk. You start to protest, but she’ll hear none of it. “There’s no room for you in there, dear. You’ll just be in the way. I promise, he’s in the best hands possible,” Angela says. “In the meantime, I have some paperwork I’m going to need you to fill out for us. I need you to tell me about him- is he yours?” she continues as you give a reluctant look toward the metal doors before slowly shuffling to the desk and settling into the creaky chair. You can’t seem to focus on her words, your mind drifting to Sekido. What was happening behind those heavy doors? Angela smiles apologetically, and you think to yourself that she smiles a lot. “I know this is hard, but try to just focus on the questions. It’ll help us help him. Sekido is yours, correct?” The fluorescent lights overhead glint harshly off polished floors, leaving a sterile, stuffy gleam on everything they touch. The air is heavy with the smell of antiseptic, strong enough that it makes you slightly nauseous. It is a reminder of the frailty of life in these walls. “Yes.” You don’t hesitate at that, surprising yourself with the quick response. “I-I mean, he is now. As of today, yes.” The paper forms all ask for various basic information, which would be fine had you adopted Sekido the usual way- in which that information is provided. You don’t know his lineage or his medical history. You barely even know his temperament, really, and that was only through your short (terrifying) experience with him. “Don’t worry too much about the papers then. Just give us what you know, okay?” Angela says as you struggle to fill the blank spots of the form. “You can leave the fields empty and we’ll take care of it. You said he’s yours as of today? What do you mean by that? Did you buy him?” Your nose wrinkles at the thought of buying something so human-looking. Don’t understand how nobody else sees the problem with it. “I found him at the side of the road a few hours ago,” you admit. “He was tied to a tree. I don’t know anything but his name, really…” Another question: relationship to patient. How.. How do you define what you are to the demon when you’d only met him hours ago. Owner? You don’t like that one. Hate what it implies. Hate that it reduces Sekido to an item. Acquaintance? Sure. that could work, but… ‘Friend’, you settle on, placing a firm punctuation at the end of the word. You hand the papers back and hiss in pain when you accidentally knock your injured arm against the table. “Are you okay?” the woman asks, and you freeze. “Y-yeah. Yeah,” you wave off her concern with an awkward laugh. “I just, uh, hurt my arm. No big deal.” You flash a smile to assure her, but it comes out as a grimace. Feels almost as painful as the injury itself. There’s no way you could tell her the truth. Violence against a human was a death sentence for demons, even if it was self-defense. That’s what the wiki said, at least. It wouldn’t matter that he didn’t really know what he was doing, or that it was your own fault. “Really, I’m fine.” It wouldn’t matter to anyone else that he was scared out of his wits. Demons had no rights. “Here, let me see,” Angela insists gently as if she's talking to an anxious child- takes your arm despite your protest. She unwraps the filthy cloth, revealing a swollen, inflamed wound that has her humming in surprise. “Oh my… Did he do this?” “It’s not his fault!” You blurt in panic, pulling the limb back. Though it no longer bled, the punctures are deeper than you originally thought. The air stung, sent throbbing pain through the flesh. “Don’t blame him. Please don’t hurt Sekido!”

“We’re not going to hurt him, dear,” Angela's compassionate eyes offered a small amount of hope. “I-it was my fault! I was stupid, and I think he was delirious. It wasn’t his fault,” you repeat with a quivering voice.  “He’s just sick…” She nodded like she understood. “It’s alright, dear,” the old woman pats your shoulder. “But you need a hospital for that. It’s going to need stitches and, unfortunately, we don’t work on humans here.” She giggles at her own joke in an attempt to soothe you.

You shake your head vigorously. “I’m not leaving him,” you say firmly. “I can’t go to the hospital!” They would ask questions. They would want to know about Sekido, and if they did then he would receive a euthanasia order- be considered a threat, too dangerous to live.

If you left him, would he still be there when you returned? Would he think you abandoned him? Would they take the opportunity to rid the world of a demon everyone else considered too much trouble to help? “There’s nothing we can do for you here. I’m very sorry, but you’ll need to see a human doctor for your arm. Sekido will be here when you get back,” Angela promises. “Sometimes we have to trust others to help us, even if it’s scary. Hopefully, when you get back, he’ll be right healthy and healing. But you have to heal yourself so you can keep helping him, right?” “You won’t put him down?” You need her to confirm as you nervously rock back and forth on your feet. To be assured that the vet wouldn’t just wait until you left to kill him. 

Was Sekido even yours? You weren’t certain of the technicalities. His owners had abandoned him, clearly with no intent to retrieve him, so, surely that meant he was your demon now? It was a strange realization, though one that wasn’t entirely unwelcome to you.

“No,” the technician replies firmly. “We can’t euthanize any creature without the owner’s- your- written consent.  That includes this demon.” She lowers her voice into an almost conspiratorial whisper: “I won’t mention your arm or the wound. Please, go get it cared for. It’s going to be a while, but if anything changes I’ll call you with the number you’ve given us, okay?” Finally, you cave. What else could you do? Sekido was out of your hands- for now. “Okay… Okay. I’ll go,” you mumble. “Maybe I should get the car cleaned, too.” You try to laugh, but it comes out dry and withered. “The whole thing kinda stinks…” Besides, when you finally take Sekido home, you’d like to think he might prefer a clean car.

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ --------

You return several hours later with a stitched arm, scrubbed seats, and bills you don’t even want to think about. At least you have insurance to cover most of it. Still, maybe you’ll pick up an extra shift- just for a little while. It wouldn’t hurt to have the extra money for Sekido’s needs anyhow. When you walk inside, Angela breaks into a grin, casting a ray of warmth that lightens the load on your heart. “He’s going to be okay, hon!” You release the breath you didn’t know you held, swallowing the lump in your throat. “R-really? Oh my God, that’s incredible!” Angela’s smile widens as she squeezes your hand. “Yes, really! The doctors were able to stabilize him, and he’s responding very well to antibiotics. Isn’t that amazing?” You feel tears of relief welling up in your eyes. Fumbling to express yourself amidst the waves of emotion that suddenly course through you, you manage to gather yourself enough to utter a “thank you!”, though the words come quietly. You wipe away your misty eyes, part of the day's stress melting off. “Thank you!” you say again, stronger this time.

The metal doors of the infirmary open quietly and the man who took Sekido from your car walks in. Somehow he seems even more imposing up close. He looks to Angela, as if investigating the sudden commotion. “John, this is that demon’s owner,” she explains. John greets you with a polite, firm handshake, but his face is grim. It makes you uneasy, and it’s hard to keep a genuine smile on your face as your heart sinks once more. “I’d like you to come with me,” he says, motioning to one of the empty exam rooms. “There are some things I need to discuss with you.”

Your brow furrows at his tone.

He closes the door behind you and leans his back against the exam stable, balancing himself with the palms of his hand. You take your seat on the bench. “Sekido has been stabilized, I’m sure Angela told you,” he started, then hesitates, rubbing his forehead like he had a headache. Finally, he raises his head and looks at you.

“This demon was in the worst condition I have seen... Never in my 25 years of practice have I ever treated a demon in septic shock,” John admits. “Frankly, I hadn’t thought such a thing was even possible considering how quickly the creatures usually heal.” Your eyes widen. You might not know much about demons, but you knew how dangerous blood poisoning was for any living thing. If you hadn’t brought Sekido here, if you had attempted to wait until tomorrow, he likely would have died in your home. The thought of how much this demon has suffered makes your stomach turn, but you try not to let yourself feel too guilty about your original plan to bring him home before a doctor visit. You didn’t know. “How?” How did he get so ill? How could anyone abuse a living person so horrifically? How could you continue to help this man? “Generally, a demon’s wounds will heal rapidly on their own- unless something impedes that process,” the vet repeats.  “Malnutrition and ‘sun-sickness’ are common problems…relatively. Though it’s rare, old age. Demons do age, just at a much, much slower rate than we do. Or, like I found in his blood, wisteria. I think I know how Sekido ended up tied to that tree.” You wait for him to continue, interested in his theory. “While I was shaving Sekido’s matted hair, I found a series of numbers and letters tattooed on the back of his neck, just under his hairline,” John takes a weary breath, and you know that the information he’s about to give you may change how you view your situation entirely. “Considering this, and his blood, I suspect that Sekido is, or was, part of an illicit demon fighting ring- where people force captive demons to fight and place bets on them.”

Your jaw drops, horrified as the eerie revelation casts a more sinister shadow over your limited knowledge of Sekido’s life. “Oh, God…” An underground fighting ring? His rampant hostility made even more sense now. Your stomach twists in disgust. It seems there's no end to humanities cruelty. Dogs, birds, humans, demons- some people revel in the thrill of watching living creatures tear each other apart. There is no honor in these fights, you already know. It is grotesque, a fight for life. For survival.

“His blood is strong. Unlike anything I’ve seen in demons before. If I had to classify it, finding a demon like him is like finding a diamond in a mud pit. He is extremely valuable, to the right people, and his owners paid a lot of money to get him. I’ll cut to the chase- he probably lost a fight, costing someone more money than he was bought with, and he was abandoned for it. His masters dearly wanted him to suffer. That’s the only reason wisteria would be anywhere near a demon. It’s deathly toxic to them,” the vet’s voice cut through the air, shaping the demon's past with grim detail. “Because Sekido is so used to violence and fighting for everything just to survive, he will never be able to live as a normal pet. He reacts to every stressor with violence. We had to sedate him just to finish treating him,” John trails off. You wince at that knowledge, wishing you could have been in the room. Maybe it would’ve helped to have a sort of familiar face nearby while strangers poked and prodded and injected him with odd things- or maybe not. “Listen… There's no easy way to say this, but,” he looks you in the eye, “in my experience, demons like this cannot be rehabilitated. Sekido can never be integrated as a normal companion, much less be around other demons. He will struggle even being around humans.”

Your heart drops.

“I’m very sorry, but despite how valuable this creature is, I would suggest putting Sekido down. For his sake. You tried your best to help him, and that’s admirable,” John said. “He is very lucky to have met someone like you. Not many would have gone through the trouble to free him. But, the fact is that this is a very traumatized, aggressive demon. He’s already attacked you once. I cannot tell you honestly that he won’t do it again.” He placed his hand on your shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “Some wounds run too deep to heal. He is too dangerous for anyone to reasonably handle. A ticking time-bomb that will destroy any normal household he’s put in. I truly believe euthanasia is the best choice for both of you.”

You shake your head. Absolutely not!

John sighs quietly. “We will sedate him again. Sekido will be asleep when it happens so he’s not going to feel anything. He’ll drift off to sleep, and then he’ll be gone. He won’t be afraid, and he won’t feel the cut. He won’t ever know what happened.”

“No!” You couldn’t believe he was suggesting such a thing! Kill Sekido? That was not an option- not ever! John looks at you with pity in his face. Confusion. Maybe a little admiration.

“I don’t mean to be dramatic, but if he attacks again, there is no guarantee you’ll be getting up from it. This demon was conditioned for one thing and one thing only; he is trained to attack with little discrimination. He will kill you. Let Sekido go, and put your kindness towards another demon that needs your help- one that hasn’t lived in such violence. One that isn’t so dangerous.” “But I don’t want another demon,” you protest. You’d never wanted a demon before in your entire life, but Sekido was yours now. You wouldn’t have anyone else. “I promised him…”

“I understand,” John spoke gently. “I really do, but please consider my advice. Sekido is unpredictable and very violent. You cannot control a demon like this except through force- and you don’t seem the type to do that.” “He cannot be trusted,” John finished with finality. “Ever.” You fall silent. He was right, in a way- you wouldn’t harm Sekido regardless of what he did. You couldn’t even find it in you to fault him for the stitches that made your forearm itch. But he was also wrong about your demon. Sekido had shown that he could cooperate, albeit when it suited him, with little resistance except some rude words. He’d shown the ability to care, briefly, when he kept your arm from bleeding out with his own rags. He wouldn’t have done that if he’d meant to kill or if he had no impulse control. Right? “If he attacks me, let that be between him and me,” you reply firmly. “I did not go through all this just so you could kill my demon!”

John begins to speak, but you cut him off with a dismissive wave of your hand. “He’s a living being, not a broken tool. It’s not his fault what he’s been through,” you argue passionately, anger seeping into your words. “I know it won’t be easy. I… I am shocked that this is his past, but I didn’t expect helping him to be easy! Sekido deserves to know what a life of peace is like. He needs to know what it is for someone to care about him, and I want to give him that- nobody else is going to give him that chance!” John stares at you with disbelief and frustration. “You don’t understand what he’s capable of,” he insists, his voice raising slightly. 

You shake your head, refusing to relent. “Maybe I don’t fully understand, but I’m willing to try. That's more than anyone ever has for him.” The silence stretches between you, heavy with tension. You can see John grappling with your words, his mind racing. “You’re taking a huge risk,” he finally says, his tone softening just a bit. “You could be killed.” “I’m aware of the risks,” you reply, your voice steady. “But sitting back and doing nothing isn’t an option. Living in fear isn’t a life at all. Sekido deserves a chance, just like anyone else.” Part of you realizes that John simply doesn't want to see you hurt, and you can appreciate that. But you can take care of yourself, you think, and this is your decision to make.

John stares at you with a bewildered look, then relents with an exasperated sigh. “Nothing’s going to change your mind, huh? Alright… I know when I’ve been beat. Do you really believe you can help a demon as dangerous as this?” he asks softly. “I believe I’m the only one who will try,” you repeat. You couldn’t understand why anyone would treat a demon like this- people gave more of a chance to violent dogs! “Like I said, if he tries to hurt me again then let that be between me and him. However,” you hesitate, “if… if he hurts someone else while in my care, then I’ll bring him in.” ‘For euthanasia’, was the end you didn’t want to add. There was no reason to anyway- it was obvious what you had meant. You hoped John would accept the compromise. He’s quiet, contemplative for a long minute and just when you think he’ll refuse, he speaks.

“I’ll agree to that,” he finally said. “But, considering the unconventional circumstances and because we don’t usually do this, I will provide a liability form for you to sign that will release this establishment and its employees of all responsibility should you be harmed by this demon. If you want to take Sekido home, then signing is mandatory.” You respond with a subtle nod, easily picking up the blatant effort to escape a looming lawsuit as the vet exits the room. If something happened, you really would be on your own. There would be no recourse, nobody to turn to or blame but yourself. John returns several minutes later with a stack of papers that he slides in front of you. You hesitate only a moment, then lower your hand to the signature lines. The pen you use to bind yourself to your demon is filled with dark ink that puddles and smudges into the creases of paper. The vet gives you a quiet nod as he takes the form and he taps them on the desk, forcing them into unity. “We will need to keep Sekido in our care for the next 24 hours so we can continue to monitor his condition, but he should be waking up soon, if you’d like to see him?” A whole day? With the state he arrived in, you weren’t surprised, but still… you were glad it was your weekend away from work. God, what were you gonna do about work? You… you had paid sick days still, right? Yeah. You’d use those to get Sekido settled in a bit before returning to your 9-5. “Where is he?” John leads you to the room where Sekido is recovering and motions for you to go inside before leaving. You open the steel door slowly. Quietly. Unsure of how Sekido might react. He lies on a white cot with his eyes closed and his signature frown on his face. There are IV’s connected to his arm, pumping him full of a clear liquid. The room is quiet, except for the sounds of the heart monitor and the demon’s soft breathing. Despite his usual furrowed brows, he looks almost relaxed. He occasionally makes a noise in his sleep that you can’t decide whether it’s a growl or a snore. Though the vet had warned you about shaving Sekido’s hair, it was odd to see him with such short locks. Only about an inch had been left- still filthy with dandruff and muck, twigs and blood, but no longer weighing on his head in thick drapes of clumped hair. As you sit in the chair beside him, you can see a little of the tattoo that had been mentioned. ‘HAN-2S…’ It looked like there was more, but it was hidden around the other side of his neck. You wondered what those letters and numbers meant, whether it was just to label him like a barcode. You wonder if his previous owners used the name Sekido gave you, or if they called him by that tattoo. Again, you think it's better you don’t know, though you can't help but ponder what stories and pain lie beneath that ink. However, deep down, you know that delving into his past might only lead to more questions, and you wouldn't ask him to relive the memories anyway. When you gingerly reach to brush a bit of cut hair off his forehead, he stirs.

Sekido’s eyes slowly open and squint groggily against the light. Then, he groans as his sight lands on you. “... What… do you want?” the demon scowls slowly, obviously fighting against the drugs he’d been given. You don’t know what he’s asking. You want him safe. And healthy. And alive. His well-being has become your top priority overnight. You're willing to do whatever is necessary to ensure that he recovers- no matter the challenges. Even if it means facing that scowl every single day. He scoffs at your confused look, takes a breath. “Nobody is nice to demons just because,” he says. Can’t believe you’re still there- that you hadn’t left him at the first opportunity.  “Nobody cares about things like me. Not unless they want something- so what the fuck do you want?” “Nothing,” you reply, ignoring his aggressive tone. “I want nothing. Just for you to heal.”

Sekido stares at you bitterly. Doesn’t believe you for even a second in his deep-rooted mistrust of humanity. Is afraid to consider that you might be telling the truth. His voice, gruff and menacing, warns, “I’ll hurt you,” in a blend of caution and threat, but you’ll stand firm either way. Even if it is a threat you can’t bring yourself to be afraid of him anymore. Somehow… despite John’s insistence about the danger he brings, you don’t really believe that Sekido will hurt you again. The demon looks away from you with a sigh of weary resignation as he shakes his head, his lips thin and vision distant. He pulls the heavy hospital blanket up his chest, knuckles pale with the strength that he grips that poor blanket.

“You can't save me,” the words leave his lips in gravelly despair as closes his eyes, wanting to ignore your obnoxious presence while he wonders why you won’t just leave him alone.“I want to try, ” you tell him. Won’t accept his words as truth. Won’t accept that he believes redemption of any kind is beyond his reach. “I'm gonna try.” Sekido’s eyes snap open and he turns to you with another appraising glare. Then, finally, his lips tug slightly up with a snorted half-laugh. “... Then you are a fool,” Sekido spat. “Yeah, maybe,” you agree quietly. You don’t know what else to say to that. What does one even say to that? How do you comfort a man who believes he’s beyond saving? How do you convince someone they deserve to be saved? Sekido closes his eyes again, falling silent. You might’ve thought he was asleep again except for his ragged breaths. “I’ll, uh… I’ll let you get some rest, okay?” you mutter awkwardly. You don’t expect a response from the grumpy demon- didn’t wait for one. Didn’t want to hear him bark more disdain at you. So you stand and leave him to his devices. It didn’t make his lack of response any less disappointing, but you weren’t sure what you wanted him to say anyway. You don’t see Sekido watching you as you leave, an amused smirk tugging his lips.

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ --------

You return for him the next morning, interrupted from your frantic attempts to get your home at least partially company-worthy in the short hours you had since leaving the infirmary. You still can’t believe all the chaos has happened, but the aching punctures in your arm leave little room for doubt- throbbing reminders of the harrowing night. Sekido is awake when you arrive, glaring at anyone who walks past his half-curtained glass doors as if the demon expects them to harass him at any second.  The flicker of aggression in his eyes and clenched fists, a dare for anyone to cross him, contrasts with his physical condition. One of his fangs poke his bottom lip so hard it draws blood, like tiny ruby orbs on his skin. If you did not know his strength, you could’ve mistaken his sickly body as harmless. Frail. His gaze does not soften when it sees you, unyielding in his defiance even as you draw the curtains fully to give the room its privacy.

You had come as soon as you’d received Angela’s call that Sekido had nearly been medically cleared. Obeying traffic laws this time, you made your way to the vet with a nervous heart. Some part of you was… excited, almost. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a housemate. Once they finish their checklist of procedures, Sekido would be discharged from the hospital and entrusted to your care. Into your home.

You take a deep breath as you pull into the parking lot, wondering if he will ever look at you with anything but contempt. Your heart aches for the wounded man who believes nobody could ever want to help him without a hidden agenda. You hope that in time, perhaps Sekido will come to accept you and that you two will become friends. Has he ever had friends, the thought crosses your mind before it can be stopped. You shake your head, knowing that Sekido has likely never had someone he can count on. Not anytime recently, at least. You resolve to be that person for him. It's going to take time. You know it’s going to take time- a lot of effort, of compromise, but you’re going to break through the spiny, angry walls he’s built around himself, whether the cantankerous demon appreciates it or not.

A nurse quietly arrives to check your demon one last time, his hands gingerly lifting the bandages on his wounds. Sekido flinches slightly, his body and limbs tensing… then he hisses, a low and menacing sound. You see the nurse try not to jump and shift in your seat, unsure what to do. Should you reach out? Talk to him? Reassure your demon that nobody is going to hurt him? Would that make him more upset?

You wonder what Sekido might have been like had the world not been so cruel- solemnly accept that you’ll never know as he snaps defensively when the nurse accidentally prods a little too hard.

The nurse quickly rewraps Sekido’s arm and leaves without a word, though you see the shudder in his shoulders as he closes the door behind him. A sigh of relief that he no longer had to deal with a dangerous, irritable, unpredictable creature like Sekido. Now, the demon watches you. His silence is deafening, and you can’t help but wonder what thoughts swirl in his mind as he stares, stone-cold with barely kept irritation. “So…this is it, huh?” You ask, clearing your throat. Your nervousness is unhidden in the way your voice wobbles, fracturing the already uncomfortable silence. “Time to go home…”

The weight behind those words hangs in the air as Sekido studies you for what seems like an eternity. Like he hasn’t processed your words. Like you’ve grown another head.

“What?” he chokes, but tries to hide it with another grumble, “You…?” “You’re coming home with me, remember? I’m, uh… adopting you,” you manage to stammer under the strength of his disbelief, your voice wilting. “I already signed the papers…”

Sekido’s eyes widen in shock, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly in his attempts to even grasp the concept. You were actually taking him home? A hint of vulnerability seeps through his steely composure, a mix of confusion and disbelief- then anger, in the crimson that colored his narrow eyes. “Are you out of your mind?” he snarls, his voice dangerously low. His hands curled into fists again. The room seems to shrink around you as tension thickens the air, his piercing gaze locking onto you with an emotion you can’t quite put a name on. The silence hangs heavy, your words lost in the seething glare of a demon that reads like a warning. You say nothing. You had to be at least a little out of your mind. But you wouldn’t back down. No matter what the demon said. “Adopting,” Sekido repeats slowly, like he’s tasting the word. His lips curl over his fangs with disgust. “Legally, yes,” you nod. Honestly, you weren’t a fan of the process either, or the idea of ‘owning’ someone so human. But, whatever it takes, right? His reaction to the news strikes you as ice-cold despite the fiery temper in him. You almost smile at the private joke. Then, he speaks. “Are you inviting me to your home? Knowing that I’ll hurt you?” he questions. Scoffs. You reach instinctively to pat his shoulder, reassure him that, “You won’t hurt me.” From whom were you comforting him? Himself? His past? You? You aren’t sure.  “I know you won’t.” “You know nothing,” he hisses bitterly, punctuating his words by swatting your hand away. You pull your hand back, rubbing it lightly to soothe the sting. Sekido staunchly avoids looking at you, glares out the open windows. A soft breeze blows against white curtains- they are too pure in their color, in your opinion. Like the very material had been bleached of its soul. For a moment, all that’s heard is the wind and cheerful chirping of house sparrows as they flit around outside. “Do you think that will change my mind?” you ask, softly breaking the silence. “I’ve made my decision.”

“It’s a stupid decision,” Sekido argues. Part of you is almost touched that he seems so concerned for your safety. The other part frowns that he thinks of himself as a threat. “But it’s made,” you reply easily. He says nothing after that, just snorts in disbelief as you both stand your grounds- like two warriors on the opposing sides of a battlefield. No further words are spoken, but the conversation continues in the silence, like the room itself is waiting for resolution. The sparrows continue to sing their songs, oblivious to the standoff inside the building. Finally, there is the smallest, reluctant bow of Sekido’s head, and you feel the tension easing from your shoulders. You can’t do this without him, even if he doesn’t really have a choice- no matter how much you wanted to pretend otherwise. An hour later, the final test results come back and Sekido is officially released from the hospital. With the blood poisoning dealt with, the demon should recover fully and quickly, the vet assured you as he hands another stack of papers to you. An assistant wheels over a chair, but Sekido refuses it, staggering to his feet as you finish paying the final bills at the front counter. Even ill as he is, he refused to show weakness. What he perceived as weakness. What he was taught is frailty, failure, feebleness, punishable by whips and starvation and fear.

The doctors try to reach out to steady him as he stumbles, but he shakes off their help with another warning growl.  They don’t bother attempting it again. Sekido moves slowly and deliberately, taking each step with careful rigidness. His bare toes stretch out to maintain his wobbly balance with every stride. As he catches sight of cloud-muffled daylight at the end of the hall, it seems like he quickens his pace. You don’t try to slow him, despite pointed, almost judgemental looks from the staff. You want out of the hospital too. Finally Sekido reaches the glass doors and stops.

He does not look back, but waits at the edge of the spotless black carpet that serves as a doormat, his fingers twitching in his desire to simply grab the handle and escape.

No one stops the two of you as you open the door for him, because you know he won’t leave the building himself without permission, like a dog trained to wait at the entryways of a house. It’s easy to locate your vehicle, sparkling clean as it is. That aside, it’s the only car in the lot that isn’t owned by employees of the hospital.

Sekido walks just ahead of you, stumbles twice and then leans on the back doors as his chest shudders.

“No,” you say carefully and point to the passenger seat. “You can sit up there, Sekido. Next to me.”

And again he gives you an incredulous look, like he can’t comprehend the thought. With your gentle urging, he grasps the door handle, then cautiously opens it with a flick of his pointed ear- alert for any sound that might indicate you’ve changed your mind. That you’ve tricked him.

You wait for him to climb in before taking the driver's seat.

The ride home is uncomfortably silent, but you don’t try to hold a conversation either- too lost in your own thoughts and too nervous to attempt to quell your demon’s rigid posture. He’s so stiff one might think he were a statue, except for the radar-like swivel of his ears that takes in every sudden noise with practiced precision. It would be very cute, except that you know it’s a habit he must have obtained in defense- to protect himself from further harassment at the hands of his old masters.

A passer-by's questioning glance is enough to fuel Sekido’s ire. The old woman stares fixedly out of her window and narrows her eyes at the man beside you. It's as if she knows he doesn't belong there, Sekido thinks. As if it's even her business. A rumble builds in the demon’s throat, his fangs piercing his lip once more. When the passenger of another car, a young child, makes mocking motions towards the demon, Sekido snarls, forcefully striking the window. You jump in surprise, your hands tightening on the wheel instinctively. “Sekido!” The exclamation bursts from you, unintentionally loud, spooking the demon from his own thoughts. His long ears flatten against his head, his crimson eyes briefly meeting yours before averting his gaze, accompanied with a subdued growl that slips through his bared teeth. Like he’s warning you away. Like he expects you to hit him. Like you’re one of those horrid people who beat him for misbehaving. You take a breath to steady yourself- remind yourself that you agreed to this, to the commitment, to supporting him, and to the challenges you know he comes with and the challenges sure to surprise you, and you lower your voice to a more soothing tone. “Hey,” you start uncomfortably in an attempt to maintain the barely noticeable trust you have with your demon, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. You startled me, is all.” You offer a small, reassuring smile as you slow to a red light. You hope he understands. His gaze meets yours again, slightly less hard, and then he turns to watch the scenery fly past again.

Luckily the streets are pretty empty aside from that and those that drive ahead of you mind their business enough to not taunt the traumatized demon in your car, saving you from whatever other outburst the demon might unleash if provoked again. As you pull into your driveway, the car comes to a gentle stop. Your small, one-bedroom apartment awaits. It may not be extravagant, but it's home. The front lawn is neatly mowed, and the plants in the garden beds beneath your windows flourish in still-living shades of green. Sekido observes it all with a quick glance. If he has any grievances, he keeps them to himself - maybe out of reluctance, maybe out of deeply hidden gratitude. Anything is better than before. “Well… we’re here,” you say. You can see your neighbor across the street peeking through their curtains to peer at what’s going on, the nosy bastards they are. You roll your eyes once you’re turned away from them. At least they make a good casserole during the holidays. You just hope they won’t try to come over with unwanted ‘friendly advice’ on how to deal with your demon like they had with your wilting plants. Somehow you knew their advice wouldn’t be as kind to Sekido. You fumble your keys as you open your front door. Only then, just as you’re about to lock the car, do you realize that Sekido hasn’t left the vehicle. He hasn’t even unbuckled himself. He’s sitting there, cloudy sunlight on clean leather seats, staring at the house like he doesn’t believe he’s even here. This is a house, he thinks, not a shed, or a cage, or an underground garage. A real house, where people live and don’t dread seeing its form on the horizon. A house where he, apparently, will be permitted to live, inside like a.. Like a person and not a simple slave-tool of violence. He can hardly believe it, swallows rough against his dry throat. “Sekido?” You call gently. “C’mon, it looks like it’s gonna rain.” He could smell it in the air, the sharp dampness of a summer storm.  Tepid wind rustles the trees in your yard, sending dry leaves across the street. Sekido opens the passenger door, just a couple inches, then pushes it wide. His bare feet tentatively touch rough cement as he exits the vehicle. When the doors snap closed again, he flinches at the sound. Your demon follows you slowly, as if fearing you might just laugh and throw him in the backyard to take shelter under an old, rusty kennel like the men who trained him had. He had refused to bow that low- had sat with his knees under him and his hands in his lap, with eyes closed against biting, frosty rain and wind that chilled him to the bone, leaving a muddy puddle under his weight. The men had found no amusement in his defiance- abusing him with rods of steel as if they thought they could beat the spirit from him like the blood that thickened the murk. But, you aren’t those people and though he does not trust you, he reluctantly steps onto your wooden floors. Your home is… lived-in, he notices as he glances around your belongings. Stray books and items litter the bookshelves and coffee table, alongside a succulent or two. It needs cleaned, Sekido thinks. You smile apologetically, like you know what is going through his mind. Like you’re embarrassed. “I wasn’t expecting guests,” you rub the back of your neck with a sheepish look, moving a group of magazines into a neat stack. “I’ll be right back, okay? Feel free to explore.” You leave the room to quickly finish cleaning up the dishes in the kitchen- a process you’d been in the middle of when the hospital called. Sekido says nothing, but continues to take in his surroundings. It’s not a bad house, he admits to himself.

Sunlight filters through the large window, casting a warm glow over the room. A faint scent of the coffee you’d been preparing that morning lingers in the air, creating a sense of comfort and homeliness. Your walls are adorned with colorful paintings and photographs, each telling a story of its own. Sekido’s eyes linger on family photos of moments now frozen in time. The creativity and warmth that fills the space makes it feel inviting despite the slightly cluttered appearance. Sekido's gaze wanders to a worn-out armchair in the corner, where you have probably spent countless hours reading and relaxing. It's a cozy little nook in an otherwise chaotic room. With a slight nod of approval that you don’t see in the other room, he finally breaks his silence. “Hmph.” Your home may not be perfect, but it has a charm that is uniquely yours. You return quickly, within just a couple minutes, but Sekido stands right where you’d left him, looking about uneasily. You take a hesitant step forward. “Sorry, I didn’t have quite enough time to finish up the kitchen before I left,” you apologize. “I didn’t want anything to start going rancid, you know?” Not for the first time that day, he gives you a perplexed look. “Humans don’t apologize to demons,” he mutters, like he’s scolding you on what’s right and wrong. “We aren’t worthy of it.” The phrase makes you wince- a horrid reminder that despite what you do know of Sekido’s past, you really know nothing at all. And you definitely aren’t sure how you’re supposed to fix him. “You are to me.” Again, he freezes, grunts as he glares at the wall. Anywhere he didn’t have to meet your gaze. But… Maybe you aren’t supposed to ‘fix’ someone like him at all. Maybe it would be good enough, right now, simply to teach him how to be alive. Is he hungry, you ponder? You don’t bother asking. You chastise yourself for even thinking it was a good question- the demon looks half starved! Instead you apologize, again, quietly- awkwardly. Your inelegance is enough to have him smirking behind your back, amused as you fumble words and thoughts. “You can sit if you want,” you tell him again, hoping he’ll take a seat on the sofa, or armchair. He grunts. Doesn’t make any attempt to move. You make your way to the kitchen to cut a small ribeye steak you’d planned on eating yourself into strips and small, easy-to-chew cubes. That should… this should be fine, right? All sources you’d searched said raw meat was just fine for demons. Not that you trusted the authors to have the best in mind for them. You hesitate, then take half the meat out and put that in another bowl before covering it and placing it back in the refrigerator. The last thing you needed was the demon vomiting again, you shudder as you stride into the living room, ignoring his subtle sniffing of the air, and the wetness shining on the corner of his mouth.

Sekido eyes you suspiciously as you hold the bowl out to him- refusing to put it on the ground like he’s some sort of animal. This is a trap. It has to be, he reasoned. He’s done nothing to earn the food, so you must be trying to trick him. But… you hold that bowl of meat tantalizingly close- enough that his pupils dilate at the smell of it and his body tries to lurch forward despite his wishes. The demon takes a rigid step back when you push your arm further towards him as his fingers twitch with desire to grab at the promise of the first bit of food he’s had in weeks. Drool finally trickles down one corner of his mouth and he shakes his head viciously. “Take it,” you order him in the unwillingness to even entertain the idea that Sekido wasn’t allowed to eat if he wished, and suddenly he couldn’t even pretend to have self-control enough to stop himself. The meat was gone from the bowl, shoveled into his mouth like a starving dog. He swallows without bothering to chew before you can even say a word, once, twice, hard enough that he's nearly choking on the fat, and then it’s over and his ears are pinned back and his eyes dart around with feverish intensity as if you’re going to punish him- even as his tongue licks the grease from the bowl. You can’t take the food from him. He won’t let you. Not when it’s the first thing he’s eaten in weeks. Not when he can feel the miniscule amount of protein and iron already in his system. Not when it takes his aches away so quickly. To his shock, you don’t do anything he expects you to. You don’t shout or curse or grab a stick to hit him with. In fact, you slowly back away and give the demon space while he glares at you with a practiced rage meant to hide his fear. His shoulders are tense, spine like a spring to recoil at the slightest sign of danger, but after what seems like another eternity, his gaze drops, and your own back relaxes. His grip on the bowl tightens. You decide to maintain your calm demeanor, but the decision seems to unsettle him more than any visible irritation would. He does not ease his grip on the bowl, staring at you. “Do you want more?” You ask gently. He doesn’t answer, meeting the kind gesture with narrowed eyes. You’re offering him more food? He hadn’t even earned the first bowl. Surely, you’re tricking him, he thinks again. But… “Yes,” he grumbles quietly, “Master.” Relinquishes his grip on the bowl as he hands it back with quivering hands. The title makes you flinch, stings like a bitter wound, and you nearly drop the blood-streaked bowl as a deep frown pulls at your lips. It’s another awful reminder of the reality of your roles- of the role's society wanted to force. Sekido, sensing your inner turmoil, reacts by flattening his ears once more. Displeased. He had displeased you. Was that not what he was to call his owner? That is what he had been forced to call all owners before you. “No,” you disagree gently, holding firm at his bewildered expression. “Listen, Sekido. You don’t need to call me that. My name is fine, or whatever else you want. Just… not ‘master’ or ‘owner’ or anything else that makes it sound like you’re beneath me.” “You are my owner,” he snarls again, insisting as if acknowledging otherwise would shake him to his core. Like he’s trying to educate you on how to treat a demon. “I do not own you, Sekido,” you explain carefully. Except legally, you didn’t say, didn’t think it needed to be… You think of that legality as only something society forced. Wouldn’t have even signed the papers except that it was necessary. “We’re equals, okay? You’re the master of yourself. I want you to make decisions for yourself and do things because you want to, not because you think it would make me happy, do you understand?” And again, he looks at you like you’ve grown another head, and you briefly wonder if maybe you’re being a little too honest. But… somehow, you think he might appreciate it- eventually. Sekido doesn’t seem to like sugarcoating things. You just hope you don’t sound too corny.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Jack and FL taking miss girl to the vet and one of tje dogs in the waiting room is doing too mucj and the owner doesn't notice bc she's too 🥵🥵🥵 at Jack and Jack puts her in her place

“Thanks for coming with me, babe.” Jack told you as you were scratching Butterscotch behind her ears in the hopes of keeping her calm.

“Of course my love. We have to make sure our youngest child is okay and I have to also make sure that they don't try to get over on us either.”

A few days ago you noticed that she wasn't acting like her energetic self and quickly made an appointment to see what might be wrong with her. However, something told you to watch the security cameras and the reasoning for her feeling sick was revealed.

She had eaten a paper towel that one of the triplets had dropped on the floor and never picked up.

“Our child would eat a paper towel. Not surprised in the slightest.” Jack replied and you couldn't help but to laugh. However, you were startled by a dog barking in a loud tone and looked to see the direction from where it was coming from.

“Hmm.”

“What's wrong, baby?”

“It seems that you have an admirer.” You told him and he instantly rolled his eyes as he looked in the direction that you nodded your head towards.

“And I have a wedding ring on my finger that could blind the entire continent of North America.”

“You so cute, bae. What did you expect?” You replied as you pinched his cheek making him blush.

“Stop, babe! And I'm all yours so she can stop staring at me. I think she's about to start drooling in a minute. You are the only person that I want looking at me like that.” He told you as Butterscotch was walking back and forth between both of your laps before she decided to lay in Jack’s.

Suddenly you two heard a crash and it looked as if the rowdy dog that had the owner that had been looking at your husband the entire time had knocked over two plants that they had in the waiting room, sending soil flying everywhere.

“Can she not control her dog or is she too focused on you?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question? I will start making out with you right now to get her to stop staring.”

“I don't think she's blinked since she's been here.”

Just then, the girl must have loosened her grip on the dog's leash because the next thing you knew, the dog was coming straight for Butterscotch and Jack was done dealing with the nonsense.

The dog then proceeded to almost hop on Jack’s lap and that's when you heard his protests.

“Uh? Excuse me!?!?? Ma'am isn't this your dog?”

“Oh, um yes.”

“Well can you do a better job of controlling him and getting him to act like he has some sense? Because if he would have bitten my child there would have been hell to pay.”

“Your child?”

“Don't you see me holding my daughter? If you were actually paying attention and not making googly eyes at me you would see that he's torn up this waiting room. And I know you see this ring on my finger and that indicates that I'm a whole married man and MY WIFE is sitting next to me.”

All you did was laugh as you were on facetime with Urban, who heard the entire exchange. You called him to get an update on the babies, and that just so happened to be the time when Jack went off.

“I cannot! Y/N! Get your husband.” He said as he busted out laughing.

“Nah, let him cook.”

“Like how does your dog not know how to act in public? And are you going to come over here and get him or?”

“Oh, right. Um, sorry about that.” She immediately turned red indicating that she was embarrassed and took the dog's leash from Jack.

“I love it when you get like that.” You whispered in his ear once the woman had finally gone back to her seat.

“Once we leave here….” Jack started to say, but was immediately cut off by Urban.

“AHT AHT! I'm still here so stop being nasty!”

“Hmm, I can solve that problem.” Jack said and Urban's eyes went wide.

“Don't you DARE hang up on me.”

“Urb, can't hear you, we’ll call you back later.” Jack replied as he reached over and hung up on him while all you could do was laugh.

“Now where were we?”

[ropes3amthoughts]

My family is still staying in half of the church that wasn’t affected by the bombing because there is nowhere else to stay other than tents. They are limited to one small meal a day and one shower a week. They are sleeping on the floors, but no one can sleep since there is bombing everywhere around them. Even when there is no bombing, they can still hear the loud buzzing sound of the military planes above them, which would keep anyone who hears it awake. Along with everything, My grandma has diabetes and osteoporosis, so she can’t walk. She has to take her insulin medication along with many others; however, she has run out of many of her medications.” Am on my knees requesting for donation. Target $450

This is a SCAM! Do NOT donate or boost this user! Please report and block them and tell others to do so as well!

There are a few things that make this account suspicious: it is a new account, it is not verified, and the username seems to come from a username generator. Real Palestinian accounts can be new, have peculiar usernames, and not be verified, though, so if an account has one or even all of these traits, do NOT immediately report and block. These suspicious traits are only enough to indicate more digging needs to be done.

The thing that confirms this is a scam though is the user asks for insulin. Insulin does NOT get into Gaza, so if any user asks claims to be in Gaza and asks you for money to buy insulin that is a scam.

For some further proof, I tried searching up their user, which is the one of the first things you should do if you are unsure about the validity of a fundraiser. Unfortunately, nothing came up, so I tried reverse image searching their profile picture. Their profile picture has a match, user “thoughtfulpersonpersona” on Tumblr. If you try to go to that blog, you’ll find it is deleted.

Luckily, if you simply search the blog name, you’ll find people have made callout posts for the user. thoughtfulpersonpersona shows up on an official scam list and the message they sent out is word for word the one that instantwerewolfthing sent. This confirms that instantwerewolfthing is the new account of thoughtfulpersonpersona, which is a scam.

Please be careful when donating to blogs, but do not let some shitty scammers prevent you from donating to real people who need help! If you are unsure about a fundraisers validity, don’t report and block, do some digging. Check the comments and reblogs to see if anyone said if it was verified or a scam. Look up their username to see if anyone replied to an ask of theirs that confirms if it’s real or a scam. If you can’t find anything at all about whether the fundraiser is valid or not, I would recommend you just leave the fundraiser be until it is verified or exposed for being a scam and donate to a fundraiser you’re sure is verified instead.

Here is Nabulsi and El Shab Hussein’s google doc of verified Palestinian fundraisers. All of these fundraisers are confirmed to be verified, and many of them are far from their goals! Please donate to these fundraisers if possible:

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview

I would like to clarify that I am not Palestinian or a professional scam buster, but it is not very difficult to do some research to see whether an account is valid or not. If we’re all careful, we can avoid giving money to the disgusting “people” who exploit the suffering of Palestinians for their own gain and instead give it all to the people who really need it.

I hope that all Palestinians can reach their goals, get to safety, get medical care, rebuild their homes, and get whatever else they need or want. Every person deserves the right to live and to live their lives to the fullest. I really hope that all Palestinians are able to get safety and live the lives they want. I hope that soon they will all be able to drink clean water, to continue their educations, to eat good meals, to be healthy, to be safe, to be happy. I wish them all the very best. Free Palestine 🇵🇸

[cumikering]

Werewolf Keegan x reader 9 (end)

1.7k | fluff Well, yes, but if a wolf runs around unattended, they’re going to call animal control (part 1)

Keegan made good on his promise that he’d clean up after himself.

With the way he loved to cuddle you as a wolf, even the biggest lint rollers wouldn’t suffice so he compensated by vacuuming your place every day. But not without giving Raider the side eye, because of course he had to help out. Some of the fluff was his too after all.

You really spoilt him, didn’t you? The K9 only watched his handler as he panted among the avalanche of chew toys you got him (his favourite was still the phone one though), and wouldn’t even clean his own dog bed with the lint roller.

Keegan took a two-week leave to take care of Raider who was anticipated to take a few months to recover before he could get back in the field. Fortunately, he was healing fast, already standing the week after and moving about.

Keegan decided to crash at your place meanwhile. ‘It’s closer to the vet hospital,’ he reasoned, but he knew you knew it was more than that. You said you didn’t mind as long as he kept the floof in check.

It felt natural to be around you like this. Driving you to and from work, cooking dinner with you, watching the TV after. It was hard to believe he lived so long without this, believing he was perfectly happy too.

And to think this all started with his curse.

His wolf had never been happier too, being in your space. Head empty, no thoughts, just his peanut as he drifted off to sleep.

You said it was strange the first few times he spooned you in bed as a wolf and suddenly shifted back when he lost his consciousness to sleep. The floof disappeared in a split second, replaced by his heavy arm around your waist which startled you.

Even that he was hesitant at first, he was pleasantly surprised with how welcoming you were to his peculiarity. Like when he approached you with hot cheeks a few days into staying at yours.

“Peanut,” he said in a small voice, eyes not meeting yours. “Would it be okay, if maybe, you can play tug of war with me?”

Your brow rose.

“I mean, it’s totally fine if not! It’s just I need exercise and Raider can’t play yet,” he rambled.

“Of course! We can play fetch too if you want.”

His eyes brightened, thinking of that time when his first instinct was to run after the toy you threw for Raider. “Oh, I’ve never tried that before, but that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“We can have a run at the park too, so we don’t have to go on a hike. If you’ve got an owner, no one’s going to call animal control on you.”

He tilted his head. “I am not going to be leashed.”

“But can you imagine how big of a tranquiliser dart they’re going to use on your wolf otherwise?” You stifled a laugh. “Probably as big as my forearm.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. You knew he wasn’t a fan on needles. “We’ll go hiking when Raider’s better.”

Your laugh always made him happy, like when he pulled the rope toy too hard on purpose to wrestle you on the floor. You never won against the giant wolf no matter how much you tried, and he was glad of it because he loved nuzzling you from above, your giggles filling the room.

He sent his mum pictures of the both of you, some of your cooking too, always thrilled at every opportunity to say you were his. He was to visit her with you when Raider got better, but meanwhile video calls would have to do.

“Aw, look at the both of you! Aren’t you adorable, sweetie?” his mum cooed, the phone a little too close to her face.

“She’s a cheek pincher,” Keegan said. “Here, I’ll do it on her behalf.” He reached over to pinch you lightly.

Mrs. Russ laughed. “I hope you’re feeding him well. He eats like he’s still growing, but can barely cook. Make sure he does the dishes at least!”

You let out a chuckle.

“She does! She makes the best PB sandwiches.” It was true - they were better than his and he didn’t understand why. “When we visit, she’ll make you some.”

His mum was not a werewolf nor was she a fan of PB, but he firmly believed the love for it would transcend all.

Before Ghosts’ next mission, he took you out to meet his teammates for dinner. You were a little bashful from all the attention you got when they tried to get to know you. Especially from Ajax and Kick, who were mostly baffled by how you could spare “the creepy, frowning guy” a second glance.

“I can get you an angel shot,” Ajax said.

“Blink three times if you need help,” Kick whispered.

Regardless the teasing, Keegan grinned at the fact he got to call you his peanut.

However, the closer it was to the 7th full moon, Keegan grew restless, but not because of his urges. With how well and fast you fit into his life, he couldn’t even remember what it was like without you. He was terrified he bond wasn’t going to work and he’d lose everything again.

He didn’t doubt your feelings, even that he had to admit he felt clingy sometimes, wanting you to tell him how much you felt towards him. He was glad you never complained, but was kind regarding his needs, taking care of him.

The night of the full moon, he took you out on a date, somewhere special with a live cello player. At your door, he presented a bouquet of your favourite flowers. He made sure it was bigger than the one Blake sent and that the card didn’t fall off (not like you needed it since he brought it over personally). A little petty, he had to admit, but he had to show you he was cooler than your uni friend and could survive far more than a few punches.

You dressed up, your hair done, smelling wonderful and he couldn’t keep his hands off you. His peanut. Fuck, he still couldn’t believe you were his. Under the clothed table, he squeezed your knee.

The hours rolled past as you enjoyed the haunting performance, his arm along the back of your seat while your hand rested on his thigh. He started bouncing his leg, something he almost never did.

“It’s going to work.” You squeezed his thigh.

“I’m not worried,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes fixated on the cello player.

“You won’t be a wolf. We’ll visit your mum and have her cooking, and you’ll show me your band poster collection, okay?”

He gave you a crooked smile, hand gripping yours.

Outside, the moon beamed bright against the cloudless sky. Fresh out of the shower, you sat in bed next to him, his chest bare, soft from the hot water, lower half under the comforter. The bedside lamp shed enough light to illuminate the way your lips pulled into a thin line. His arms wrapped around you and you let out a shaky breath against him.

“You can tell me to stop any time, and… Just in case.” He reached for his blade on the nightstand, handing it to you. “I love you, okay?”

You nodded and he peeled off the comforter that covered him before shifting. You bared your neck to his wolf, brows furrowed as your eyes closed.

He whimpered, nuzzling your neck. I love you, peanut.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you mumbled.

He puffed out steady breath before positioning his fangs on your neck, feeling you shudder under him. You gripped his mane, yelping when he sank into you. Your blood was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and with your addicting scent filling him, it was too easy to stay put, but he shifted back immediately.

“You did good, peanut.” He kissed the corner of your eyes where tears had pricked. “Now we wait.”

In the dead of night, he jerked awake, breathing heavily. With the movement, you woke too.

“You okay?” You rubbed his chest, fingers ever comforting through the fuzz.

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Yeah, I think. Did you have a dream?”

“We were in the woods, at full moon.”

He held his breath as his heart raced.

“Your wolf and I were walking to the cabin in the distance. I was barefoot-“

“In a white dress,” he said under his breath.

You nodded, beaming.

“It worked.” He chuckled in disbelief, gripping your shoulders. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Your arms wrapped around him. “We’re mates now, Keegan. For life.”

Months later, Raider fully recovered and was back in the field with his handler. You and Keegan got a new place between your old places, somewhere without carpeted floors because he’d grown sick of the vacuuming. Life slipped into a rhythm.

He took you to his home and greeted his mum with a kiss on the cheek. You said her lasagna was as great as he always hyped it up to be. Much to his chagrin, she was swift, and vey excited, to show you his childhood photos. He groaned. The memory of him rocking a bowl cut for the entirety of primary school was humiliating, but with a giggle, you reassured he looked cute with his signature icy stare. He didn’t believe you.

Keegan carried your luggage up the stairs with Raider padding behind, nails clicking against floor. His mum never changed a thing in his bedroom since he left, his emo band posters still almost lined the entirety of the walls. He stared at the one behind the door and contemplated if you’d like him in one of those haircuts. There would be more to pat after all (and it surely wouldn’t be as hideous as a damn bowl cut).

At bedtime, in his cramped bed, you huddled facing each other.

“I guess we should have stayed at a hotel after all.”

He shrugged. “You know, if we were both wolves, we would fit perfectly fine here.”

You smiled, tracing your neck where his bite marks had faded. “Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all.”

Thank you so much everyone for reading my silly doggo story! I had mad fun writing this and I'm glad you stuck around until the end :D take care x

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @astraluminaaa @shadowlali @eve-lie @reelovesfictionalmen @writeforfandoms @milkteaarttime

[ladyceej]

Reblog to Help with an Urgent Request

I know the world sucks right now, and I actually feel guilty for thinking that being super stressed about my parents is urgent, but I'm not sure what I'll do if I lose one of them, and I wasn't there for them. https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-familys-urgent-move-to-oregon

That there link is a link to a gofundme, for me, to drive my animals across Canada and down to Oregon. Because one of my animals is an elderly Ewe, I don't have any other options for transport. I did think I could get her on a plane, but she is too big for a 500 crate and that is the limit the airlines will let her be. Body of the gofundme discription: I am trying to move my family out of Alaska to take care of my parents down in Oregon. Both my parents are going through cancer treatments, and my father is having a rougher go with it than my mother. I would like to move closer to them so not only will they have myself and my spouse closer to them in case of the worst scenario of losing them both (which it hopefully won't come to), but to also help them as neither can do as much as they use to in home maintenance, and whatnot. I need to be there for them and I'm thousands of miles away. It's starting to seem that it doesn't matter how much overtime I take, my paychecks don't allow me to save past paying monthly bills. The main thing I need help with on moving, are my elderly animals and transportation.

My vehicle will need repairs before I can drive it down the Al/Can highway. I will need to add a tow bar to the back of it. I will need a small livestock trailer to transport my elderly ewe. To cross over Canada, they will all need health certificates from the vet. Lastly, I will need some travel crates for my dogs/cat. I've done most of my pricing from Facebook Market Place and Craigslist to do most of this 2nd hand.

I'm just very stressed and worried about my parents and how I can't seem to get any closer to this goal of moving. They had already built a place for the sheep in the past when we first talked about moving closer. Once there, I'll find new employment, and live with my parents, helping with their bills, but being able to save to hire movers to bring my belongings from storage down to Oregon. I just need help to get my family down there.

I've shared photos of my Dad from 2019 compared to photos of him now with close friends (I don't think he'd appreciate me sharing them on a reblogable public tumblr) and he's lost about 150 pounds, most of that in just the past year. But what I can share, is pictures of said animals.

This is Salt. She is 9 and has been a little lonely since our Ram, Dr. Livingston, passed away. She is the main reason this is such an expense. I'm not willing to give her to another person/farm that will likely turn her to mutton. I've had her since she was a lamb and we love her dearly.

Here are the Doggos, Diego (14), Romeo (13) and Pepper (11). They're all up there in age, and will need health certificates and their regular vet check ups. I also plan on getting them hard sided crates from facebook market place or craigslist so they have some privacy on the way down. Diego is special needs, and prefers to be left alone. Romeo has a history of singing along with the radio, so I think he'd be the biggest stresser for Diego and also for the last passenger:

Pumpkin is an 18 year old kitty. (Black cat in 2nd picture is Salem, who is no longer with us, I just really love that picture of them snuggling) She's a little grumpy and doesn't get along with Romeo and Pepper all that well. She ignores Diego and just tolerates the other two. She does get along pretty well with Salt though. So please pass this along. I really hope to get to my parents so I can help them out and hopefully not have to say goodbye over the phone.

[girlneuter]

Tldr; i need help affording end of life care for one of my dogs. you can help by sharing this post and donating what you’re able to (more info below image). thank you <3

(image description; a red dog with pointed ears is resting his head on the lap of his owner and looking in to the camera)

one of my dogs has been sick recently and when we took him to the vet we found out that it’s a lot worse than we realized. within the last month he’s accumulated fluid in his abdomen and chest from a mass in his liver. we tested his stool + urine, did blood work + x rays, and scheduled an ultrasound to see if there’s any chance of it being operable. they drained over 350ml of fluid from his abdomen and put him on a diuretic + pain meds to help keep him comfortable. we won’t know for certain until after he has an ultrasound but the prognosis isn’t very good either way. it’s very likely that he’ll continue to fill up with fluid until he goes in to organ failure from the masses and we were told he only has a few months left.

I’m trying to be strong for him and give him the best chance that we can but it will require some serious intervention and management. We’re adjusting his diet and adding some supplements along with his meds and praying that it buys him more time. Even if they are able to operate there’s still a good chance that it could grow back…

But I’m holding out hope for his recovery and asking for all of the help that i can get. We have a shih tzhu that’s older than him and we were able to get her heart condition stabilized so much that she went from being a candidate for euthanasia to having a normal sized heart (it was so enlarged when we got her that it was pushing her trachea out of place), no murmur, and is very well managed with meds. I’ve depended on Vin for so much and for so long that he will always be a part of my life.

I’m just asking for any help that we can get. We’re in the process of filing for bankruptcy so we don’t have any credit cards to fall back on. We’re supported by my husbands single income as I struggle to find a part time job that can accommodate my disability. We were able to get a discount on our last visit because we receive food assistance but it still came to just under $400 ($381 to be exact). It’s a good deal for the amount of services that we received but it’s money that we were setting aside for rent.

(Image description; a cropped image of a bank statement that reads “At Humane Society Of, [redacted] On [Redacted] From Card number [Redacted]” and a charge for $381.15 labeled as Processed)

Our next visit is going to cost a little bit more than our last as the ultrasound is from a team that travels to the clinic. We were quoted around $412 for the next visit but it may be more if he needs fluid drained again… not counting prescription food, meds, or supplements, we’re already down over $800+ and that’s just for diagnostics and early stages of treatment.

It’s an embarrassing position to be in but the reality is that I’m struggling to keep up as it is. I really appreciate anyone who shares this post and/or donates to help us cover the costs of his medical expenses. I’ll make sure to update if I’m able to find a job, especially if I can get in at a clinic for discounted treatment (I have a history of vet assisting)

(Image descriptions; the first is a red shiba inu sitting on a couch next to a cat. both are looking at the camera. the second image is the same red dog cuddling with an elderly gray dog on a bed)

Ways you can help;

1. Share this post !

i totally understand if you aren’t able to give any money and i don’t want you to feel obligated to. sharing does help even if you don’t have a lot of followers

2. you can donate money for Vin’s recovery in the following ways;

- Paypal @ ReyOfTheLight

- Venmo @ rey-fillback

- cashapp $reyfillback

[themultifandomgal]

Hey, can you do a peaky blinder headcannon where the reader is the second youngest shelby but is really close with John shelby so she is basically John and esmes daughter. She's always around them and won't leave their side. They are both so protective of her as she's always happy and kind. She's really close with esme and she looks up to her like a mother figure and esme looks at her like a daughter.

Sister Shelby- John And Esme Pt1

Here you go. Hope you like it. Also might do a part 2 to this!

YN Shelby, the second youngest Shelby child. Only being a year older than her younger brother.  When John and Esme married YN seemed to be over at their house more so than her own, so much that YN would often stay over at her brother and sister in laws house. As YN had no mother Esme soon became a mother figure. Teaching YN about her first period, going through her first relationship and breakup, giving her the 'talk' and most importantly loving her. John also became like a father to her eventually vetting the guy YN would in the end fall in love with and marry. He would even walk her down the aisle.

12 Years Old

"John I'm here!" you runs through the door of her brothers house "John?" You stop when you realises the house is quiet, to quiet. Where could everyone be? "John? Esme?"

"Upstairs love" Esme shouts from upstairs. You run up the stairs, bumping into John the way up

"We have a surprise for you" your eyes widen as does the smile gracing your face "come with me" you follow John to the spare room, the door closed "ok close your eyes" you do as he says. After hearing the door open and John telling you to open them you see a newly decorated room

"Oh my god"

"This is your bedroom"

"Mine?" You ask confused

"Yes yours. You spend half your life here so we thought we'd make a space for you. What do you think?"

"I love it thank you" you give both John and Esme a hug

"Aunt Polly said that you can live here with us, that's if you want?" John nervously asks

"Yes!" You yell "I love you both so much"

"We love you too YN"

13 Years Old

At 13 years old you woke up to blood on your bedsheets. White bedsheets. Quickly gathering the bloody sheets you quietly take the sheets and place them in the sink hoping to wash out the stain. But when you realise that the stain isn't coming out you start to panic. Esme just put these sheets on fresh, then the panic to why you bled sets in. What's going on. That's when Esme catches you

"What are you doing?"

"Esme. I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened and I don't know why. I didn't know what to do" Esme walks over to you and looks in the sink

"Oh honey. You've started your monthly"

"Huh?"

"You know. Your bleed"

"My bleed?"

"Bloody hell hasn't anyone told you?" You give her a shrug.

"I have brothers not sisters and aunt Polly hasn't said anything" you reply feeling embarrassed

"Ok don't worry. I'll clean this up and put some fresh sheets on"

"I'm sorry"

"It's ok. Don't apologies" Esme takes over from me and starts to clean the bedsheets "do you have any pains?"

"No" you shake your head

"Ok well if you do, let me know and I'll get a hot bottle for you"

"Thank you Esme"

"It's ok"

15 Years Old

Your first boyfriend was hidden from your brothers, but Esme knew. She knew everything and kept it from her husband knowing he will kick off. But when your boyfriend broke up with you, the first people you went to were Esme and John. You walk through the door wiping the tears and snot on your sleeve

"YN? What happened?"

"He broke up with me"

"What?" Esme is up in no time and wraps her arms around you

"You had a boyfriend?" John asks confused and angry "why didn't you tell me? Who the fuck was he? Did he fucking hurt you? I'm gonna fucking kill him"

"John, not the time" Esme scolds John as she strokes your hair

"Im sorry. Come here" you pull away from Esme and run to John who holds you close. He places a kiss on your head "whoever this guy is, he doesn't know what's he's missing. One day you'll fall in love and marry a decent man. You'll have a nice house a good job and kids"

"Johns right. You have to kiss a few frogs before you find your Prince" Esme giggles referring to one of my favourite books that we used to read together

"It sucks"

"I know, but soon you won't feel so sad. Promise" John and Esme once again hug you making you feel slightly better.

[swallowedbyfandom]

When she gets in Varley hurriedly escorts her into the drawing room. That must mean Lord Debling has come sniffing around. She is about to ruin her mama's week by turning that man's title and fortune down. There is something to be said about embracing spite.

Lord Debling rises to his feet as soon as she walks in. It seems she is not the only one dressed to impress today. Were she in a more forgiving mood she would be quite moved by the effort he has made with his appearance. She softens her body language into something a little more fragile. She widens her eyes into something a glassy and a touch disappointed. Let this hero see how he has let her down so. Let him grieve his foolish doubts. She lets him briefly see her betrayal before she tilts her chin up and changes her face into something much more resolved.

She knows he has noticed the byplay across her face by the tightness at the corners of his eyes and the downturns of his brow. He bows much lower than is necessary to her.

"Miss Featherington, may I say you look exquisite today. I know you were not expecting me given the way we left off last night. I have hoped you would indulge me today so that we may clear the air so to speak."

"Of course My Lord, I think that would be beneficial for us both."

"I want to apologize for the way I conducted myself last night. You are a true Lady and you have always conducted yourself with the upmost propriety. You did not deserve my accusations. Please forgive me."

"Lord Debling, you are not a simpleton so I imagine you have noticed that my home life is not healthy. Bridgerton house was my sanctuary growing up. It was where I went to escape the negligence and the harsh words of my family."

Her mother's harsh tone and glare cut her off, "My Lord, please excuse her tales. She often forgets her place, reminding your child of their deficiencies is a parent's duty. How else will they learn if you allow them to have their own thoughts?"

Really her mother has just made her point beautifully. She can see Lord Debling's fists are both clenched and he is grinding his jaw hard enough to crack a tooth. She allows a few tears to spill out at the harsh words to complete the effect. It is the tears that ultimately cause him to lash out at her mama.

"Lady Featherington I would advise that you not interrupt us again. I am here to speak to Miss Penelope, only."

Softly he takes hold of her hand.

"Please continue, I would like a clearer understanding of you."

She takes a deep breath and proceeds.

"I was practically raised in Bridgerton house from the ages of 8 until 16. I have taken most of my lessons with the Bridgerton children as my sisters were often cruel if they felt I was being a know it all. While high society likes to focus on my friendships with Eloise and Colin, in truth I was always close with all the Bridgerton ladies."

"That is why I enjoy the view so much. It is to date, the only home I have ever found acceptance in. Where I can partake in a meal without reprimand for every morsel that passes my lips. It is Lady Violet I flee to when I am in need of maternal comfort. I have always been a timid wallflower, after all my mama made me debut at 16 and I was nowhere near ready for marriage that young. It has been three years since and I am more settled into myself. I decided I was ready to seek marriage."

She tightens her grip on his hand as if seeking comfort. She can feel the fine tremble in his strong grasp. It is almost enough to make her reconsider.

"I asked Mr. Bridgerton to help me on the marriage mart this year because my family has no patriarch to vet suitors for me. Mr. Bridgerton would be able to find out which gentlemen had illegitimate children or kept mistresses. All things that a gently bred Lady would not know. I trusted Mr. Bridgerton to weed out the gentleman prone to vice or violence as he is my oldest friend in the world. I do not trust my mama."

"My mama would sell me to the first man of title or wealth that made her an offer without a single care. Did she ask you any questions that did not pertain to your estate or wealth? Or did she spend the entire time hinting at favors that could be done for the benefit of my sisters and herself?"

She watches that realization play out across his handsome face. He appears to be in physical pain to have missed such a glaring sign of Portia's lack of regard for her.

"I had thought you different from the gentleman of the Ton. I had thought you a man of great convictions. An individual much like myself who dares to be different regardless of the mockery. I had thought we would have a marriage of partnership and trust."

"Last night you assumed the worst of me without any hesitation. If you doubt me now so easily, how am I to trust you will not doubt me after you have been traveling for a prolonged bout of time? I will not live my life waiting for some wild accusation to turn you against me. "

"More than anything I want stability for my self and my future children. I wish to marry a man of keen wit and substance. I had thought you with your intellect, age, and kindness, to be such a man."

"I see now unfortunately you are not. You My Lord, are like all the rest. Quick to make assumptions and assign blame. You had already made up your mind of my guilt before ever speaking to me. I shan't allow myself to marry a man who already seeks to betray me."

"I may want someone to save me from this cage I reside in but I will not trade one harsh home for another. I would rather be a spinster, My Lord."

She withdraws her hand from his, and gives him a sad look from under her lashes as she curtesy. As she walks away from him she hears him call out to her in a voice that sounds like gravel.

"Miss Penelope, I am ashamed to have added to your sorrow." She hears him walk up behind her, so she turns to face him. He place a ring into the center of her palm and closes her fingers delicately around it. Then he places a sweet kiss on her wrist. She feels his beard tickle across her skin. She allows herself a single shudder of intrigue.

"I know words are insufficient for the injury I have caused you. Please keep the ring, I picked it for you and it should grace no hand other than yours. You are truly incomparable. Farewell, my dove."

She leaves him standing in her drawing room. She wants to wash her face and take a nap. While she enjoys reading people to filth doing so in such a manipulative manner is exhausting.

She has barely finished removing her gown and washing her face when her mother strolls into her room. Her mama looks fit to burst with disbelief and rage.

"Why? Penelope that man brought a ring with him you could have still married him. His coin is the answer to all our problems."

"Why would you tell him all that? You ungrateful child! Everything I have done has been for our benefit."

There are a million reasons she can give but there are only two that Portia would understand, only two Portia will respect.

"Mother, Lord Debling's great passion in life is rescuing all the poor endangered creatures of the world. He believes himself superior to all other men an enlightened defender of the weak. He wants to spend the next 3 years rescuing birds! I just made myself the most injured bird he has ever encountered. It is a tragedy, is it not? That his actions have wounded me further? His guilt will eat him alive!"

"Are you not tired of suffering for the actions of weak men? Men never pay for their actions. But a single hint of wrong doing can see a lady ruined and thrown out into the streets."

"Lord Debling will end tonight drowning his sorrows at some high end Gentlemen's club. He will lament over his loss of me. He will sing my praises and my reputation will remain intact. My status has just gone from an unwanted wallflower to a wild blossom that cannot be plucked by just anybody."

"Miss Cowper sought to steal my future, mama. She may still entrap him yet, but she will have to work harder for it. Even if they marry he will long for the life he could have had with me. He will pine away for the protection he could have given me. He will wonder about the unique children we could have had together."

"If Cressida does get a ring from him she will have to accept it knowing it was the second one he issued this season. Do you understand now?"

Shockingly her mother looks more impressed than she has ever seen her. Portia gently runs her fingers through her hair and drops a kiss on the crown of her head. She nods once.

"Yes, I understand now."

Penelope feels a little like she is trapped in a fever dream. Perhaps her mama is ill? She will keep an eye out later. Right now she needs a nap.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

For make me write!! Thank you so much for all you do write though!

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮 (Always more Cranberry I can’t explain how excited I am for part 2 and the snippets I have read..gah)

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸 (I think I may have spoke to soon on thinking Eddie is healing…I mean he is right…RIGHT?!!?!! Please tell me he is)

🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮 (Ah the Bobby seeing Buck’s past had me in tears I don’t think Im ready for the opposite of that but oh well I guess I need to be) 🧟🧟🧟🧟(I was hooked by the end of the last chapter. I love apocalyptic AUs. Also the ending broke my heart, but I’m can’t wait to see Maddie and Eddie eventually make it to their library)

🚨🚨(Lots of COVID lockdown stories going around…however they make for such interesting explorations!!!!!!)

Thank you! You are so kind!

30 for 🦮 (YAY THANK YOU!):

---

“Okay,” Chris sniffs.

Buck carries Cranberry back into the house. It’s been just a year since his amputation, and bending and lifting heavy weights on his prosthetic isn’t exactly comfortable. Cranberry isn’t too heavy. Not much more than fifty pounds. But the gait back into the house, to the bedroom, where he rests her on the mattress, is a bit taxing for him. Still, it hurts him less than it would hurt her. 

Twenty minutes later, he’s off the phone with the vet, laying next to Cranberry on the bed, and holding an ice pack to her paw. The vet thinks it’s likely not serious. She’s advised Buck to crate-rest her for a few days, ice the injury, and if the pain gets worse, to bring her in.

“It’s going to be okay,” Buck assures Chris. “She’s just going to be sore for a while. Kind of like when your dad is sore after a tough shift at work.”

Chris leans his head over the bed, and presses his cheek into her fur. 

“I’m sorry, Cranberry,” he cries. “I didn’t mean to do it.”

Buck exhales, feeling a little guilty. He could have reacted a hell of a lot better. He’d just been freaked out. 

“It was an accident, Chris. You were both having fun.”

“Does she hate me now?” Chris asks, noticing how Cranberry isn’t wiggling and happy like she usually is with him. 

“No, Chris, she could never hate you. She’s just not feeling well. Okay?”

“Okay,” Chris mumbles. 

“Why don’t you go get your iPad and we can all watch a movie together? She’d like it if you kept her company.” Buck suggests. 

“Yes please,” Chris says in a little voice. He walks off to get his device.

---

24 for 🩸 (SOMEONE is healing and someone is not, is all I will say):

---

“You know. All are welcome. They’re just looking for experience.”

“Then I think it sounds like a good idea.” Chris decides before taking another bite of ice cream. 

“It would be more dangerous than staying home,” Eddie tells him. “But probably not more dangerous than being a firefighter. There are risks, anyway. Which is why I wanted to run it by you before I make a choice either way.”

Chris considers this.

“Thank you, Dad,” he says quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Eddie replies. “We’re a team, right?”

He hopes that this is still true, after everything. 

“We are,” Christopher agrees. Eddie feels a wash of relief. 

“I think you need to do something where you help people,” Chris says eventually. “It’s who you are, Dad.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. 

“Thank you, buddy.” 

He had no idea how badly he needed to hear to feel, again, that he was living a life that would make his son proud of him. The way he’d been proud of him when he became a firefighter. That life is in his line of sight again, Eddie thinks. Finally.

---

18 for 🔮:

---

“Me?” Buck asks. “I mean… Uh… I think so?”

They pause a few feet away from each other. Buck feels crippled with awkwardness. He doesn’t know what to do from here. 

“I…” Bobby starts. “Did you…”

“I passed out,” Buck says.

Bobby nods. “Me too.”

“Were you…” Buck swallows nervously. “Did you have any weird dreams?”

Bobby’s expression wilts, just a little. So he did, then.

---

12 for 🧟 (ah yay thank you!):

---

Eddie is really banking on Maddie’s brother having settled somewhere safe. Somewhere decent. He is really banking on Maddie being as good of a person as she seemed. He needed her to be.

He’s running out of options, otherwise. 

The thing is, with each passing day, the likelihood of finding Shannon alive is dwindling. He knows that. He’s not stupid. It’s been too many months. But Eddie has failed Shannon so many times. All he has done is fail her. If there is any chance, any sliver of hope, that he can help her now?

---

6 for 🚨 (yeah for some reason I am in my writing about covid era?):

---

Buck gets his shield. They celebrate over cupcakes and two liter bottles of soda. There’s nothing else to be done.

“We will have a proper party when this is over,” Bobby promises. 

Whenever the hell that will be. 

Afterwards, Buck and Eddie pull Bobby into his office to come clear.