#PUT ME DOWN BEHIND THE SHED LIKE OLD YELLER

[kyleehenke]

“Doing a lot of work behind the scenes” oh god oh fuck she’s making NFTs

HAHAGSGH NOOOOO

[t00thpasteface]

i'm really comfortable and confident in my sexuality as a butch lesbian (gets caught looking at a woman) someone needs to take me out back behind the shed and put me down like old yeller

[agoddamn]

Bruce trying to cook up a plausible cover story for why a random college girl is following him around now while knowing, knowing that the easiest and most effective in-character cover story would be sugar baby and also knowing that Alfred would put him down behind the shed like Old Yeller if he suggested it, sweating

(Steph ends up bringing it up herself because she finds the idea that she bagged Bruce Wayne while models all over the world are drooling over him the funniest thing on the fucking planet. "You can Pretty Woman me! I could outshine Julia Roberts, right?")

[after-witch]

Let me know if you need me to give anyone an unfriendly reminder 🥊

thank you dear

Though since I take requests sent in when requests are closed into the shed behind the farm and put them down like Old Yeller, I feel like punching might be overkill.

[yifftwiceplz]

john i had a monster for dinner last night and then i woke up and had another for breakfast just take me behind the shed man old yeller my ass put me down like a sick dog which i am

[btbigelow]

If I turn into one of those insufferable TJLC fandom mom types you have permission to take me out behind the shed and put me down like Old Yeller

[house-of-slayterr]

Firefly Family Group Chat:

For: @myers-meadow-selfship @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better Cy, let me know if you want in on the shenanigans 😈

AN: For reference, the group chat is from Blinky’s phone, hence why the screen names are the way that they are 😂 I don’t even think half of them know what they’re set at in their phone. Spaulding is “Daddio”, Otis is “Old Man”, Baby is “Barbie”, Doe Eyes is “Angel Face”, Mama is just “✨Mama✨”, and Blinky just made themselves “👁️👄👁️”

Daddio:

Problem

Blinky:

Have you perhaps tried… solving said problem?

Daddio:

That it! I’m taking Blinky behind the shed for the Old Yeller treatment. Any objections?

Old Man:

Ain’t hearing non’ from me.

Barbie:

They used the last of my red polish, send em to the shed! 😈

Angel Face:

Calm down Killer Barbie, nobody’s Shooting the kid!

Old Man:

That so Princess? 🤨

👁️👄👁️:

Yo, since when did gramps learn how to use emojis? Yall seeing this shit?

Angel Face:

Language Blinky!

👁️👄👁️:

Bet he’s just standing there lookin’ like this tbh thinking nobodies watchin’

Well guess what Santa Claus, I’m always watching 👀

Barbie:

Woah, Blink, when did you get that super high quality photo of Otis?

Old Man:

I DO NOT STAND LIKE THAT!

👁️👄👁️:

I Do nOT StAnd liKe ThaT!

Old Man:

Spaulding you got extra shells in that gun? I’m gonna make a second mess behind the shed.

✨Mama✨:

Children, if you do not shut up and listen to your damn father, you’re all going in the shed.

Blinky:

Ahhh!!!!!

Mama using proper city words! Burn the witch! Run!

Old Man:

I think I saw Mama grab the wooden spoon 👀

Blinky:

Firstly, Otis, don’t go stealing my emoji “👀” is mine ok?

Secondly, which way did she go?

Angel Face:

Mama isn’t gonna hit them with a spoon Otis, stop scaring them!

Old Man:

Are you sure about that?

👁️👄👁️:

Ahhhh!

Saint Klaus discovered gifs, and John Cena!!

BURN THE WITCH!!

Angel Face:

Ok, Blinky, I can’t see you right now, but you better put that lighter down or I swear to-

Just, don’t touch anything!

Daddio:

Well thanks to you useless little shits, I don’t got a problem any more. It fixed itself, dumb broad ran out infront of a moving car.

Someone was driving really quickly down the main road, strangely the car kinda looked familiar

👁️👄👁️:

Angel Face:

….

Barbie:

….

Old Man:

….

👁️👄👁️:

Don’t worry Papi, I’ve got your back 😉

Totally random, off the top of my head question here…

How does one go about removing hair from a grill plate?

Barbie:

…

Old Man:

…

Daddio:

Thanks little clown. At least one do my children respects me.

…

…

Wait, who the hell gave Blinky the keys to the truck?!!?

👁️👄👁️:

Oh no-

Our connection…

It’s breaking- ing up!

Old Man:

Blinky this is a text chat.

Angel Face:

Are you texting while driving??

👁️👄👁️:

No…

Angel Face:

Unbelievable!

Barbie:

High five little dude! That was awesome!

👁️👄👁️:

Thank you, thank you. I do aim to please! I also like to multitask, anyone want a milkshake?

Daddio:

Kiddo, please tell me you didn’t go into town with the truck covered in blood.

👁️👄👁️:

Of course not, I’m not stupid. I ditched the truck in the tree line, and stole some fancy sort of hybrid nonsense. Much less suspicious for legal Milkshake purposes.

Barbie:

Strawberry please!

👁️👄👁️:

You got it Baby! Anyone else?

Going once…

Going twice…

✨Mama✨:

Blinky if you don’t get your ass back in this god Damn house in the next 30 minutes, I’m lighting the spoon on fire first.

👁️👄👁️:

Flaming spoon you say? I’ll be there 😏

Angel Face:

Blinky! No!

[therussellpeck]

Infection Protocol

So this is the first thing I ever wrote that I finished and had any kind of pride in, it’s just shy of a year old, I’ve submitted it to magazines and been turned down. But now I’m going to post it here for people to read. 

I imagined this as one episode/event/story within a larger setting I’m working on setting more stories in. There’s a few easter eggs and references, at least in the characters, let me know if you catch them. Also let me know if you like it, Kessler will appear in more stories as I’m currently planning them.

“Yes, I understand. No. I’ll take care of it myself.” Agent Lawrence Kessler informed the woman on the other end of the line before hanging up. The breath out of his lungs misted in the cool mountain air.

Kessler shut the office door behind him, keeping his eyes away from the old kennel and its current occupant. His rookie partner, Scott Cord. OMEN had sent the pair of them after reports of a werewolf in the Wallowa National Forest. 

Tonight Cord lay on the floor of the long unused dog kennel, groaning weakly as he had been since the night before. His uniform had been stripped down to the shirt on his back and hispants. The rest of it was in the truck. The home office had told Kessler that he had to stay strong and follow the infection protocol. There was no quarter given in their line of work and he knew what he had to do before leaving. 

If there was a single ounce of liquor in this building or any of the little sheds surrounding it, then he would have found it. There wasn’t anything. Dry as a bone.  “Damn.”

The sun had set twenty minutes ago. Soon the choice would be taken out of his hands and he didn’t know if that was a curse or a blessing. It wouldn’t make him feel any better about this. Cord was a good kid. Reckless, liked to run his mouth, but he was a good kid when he didn’t feel like he had something to prove. He could still make the choice himself. Lawrence should have taken point and gone in front. That decision would have saved him this whole position. Scott would have made the call a lot easier and he’d have made the right call. Lawrence's trigger finger was faster than Scott’s. It was the fastest in their whole agency. But he had to be prepared to pull that trigger.He should have called in when the kid had been bit. But he’d held off, hoping it had been a dry bite. But werewolves weren’t vipers. Every bite spread infection. The way the kid’s fine blonde hair had gone dark and coarse gave away that he was changing and there was no hope for him. In two hundred years of active scientific research there was no signs of a cure. Just silver.

He could leave him here. Hope that the kennel kept him in place until he starved, or turned back and decided to end it himself. 

The gun lay on the desk in front of Kessler, the desk lamp keeping it easy to see, easy to grab. It wasn’t loaded. The clip lay next to it on the old beaten wood. Protocol dictated that an infected agent be executed to contain the spread.There was half a clip, seven rounds in that clip. He only needed one. It was like putting down a dog who had contracted rabies. He did always hate how Old Yeller ended. 

Suddenly Cord sat up, and then he was convulsing. It was hard not to look because it sounded as if he was beginning to choke on his own tongue. And then came a sound like drowning. Two days ago Scott Cord was the healthiest little shit  Lawrence Kessler had ever met. Now the choice was out of his hands. Except it wasn’t. He could still walk away, but he couldn’t. Not really, not in good conscience. He kept his eyes on the gun and the ammunition. 

Cord was sounding less and less human.Then he was screaming. The louder the noise from the kennel, the more intently Kessler stared at the gun in its spotlight. The more he thought about the way the dust smelled when it mixed with the blood coming up in Cord’s throat. Spilling on the floor as his body rejected its former nature for the new one.

Could he pick up the gun without trembling? He’d never shot and killed anyone before. He’d never even put down a dog. He had killed monsters. Never a person. As long as he didn’t look then he could keep thinking of Cord as the stupid kid who charged off after the werewolf. The gun did tremble in his hand, but remained empty. He could refuse to look but the sound was impossible to ignore. The clip lay on the desk not a second longer and was locked and loaded as the weight of the thing Cord had become pressed against the metal trappings of the kennel. Kessler’s eyes finally met with Cord’s, or what used to be Cord. The firearm was raised, the hardest part was he could still see the human beneath the fur and the blazing yellow eyes. The sound of thunder cracked the air and then Kessler delivered to the kid his saving grace. A blessed death before he could be the thing they hunted.

The truck felt unbalanced as he drove away. Like he was missing something.  He wasn’t. OMEN was an agency for protecting people from the things that went bump in the night. The kid had just been another victim of the age-old struggle. Kessler had to believe that or he’d killed him for nothing. It was a long drive back to the home office, DC was far from Idaho. What was the story they’d spin for the kid’s mother?

[bosspigeon]

woke up thinking about Chase rocking a bodycon dress and now im frothing at the mouth

[yourdeepestfathoms]

take me out to the back of the shed (and shoot me in the back of the head)

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Title is from the song Old Yeller. It’s apparently a TikTok trend song but I first heard it from a furry animation when I was in 8th grade lol

Word count: 3112

Prompt: “Calm down! You’re scaring me!”

———————

“Jane! Jane, look at this painting I made for you!”

“Yeah, yeah- hang on a moment. I’m busy.”

“Jane-”

“In a minute.”

“But-”

“In a minute!”

This is the exchange Anne watched from down the hall- Joan following Jane around with a canvas gripped tightly in her hands like a little duckling and Jane doing her best to pretend the girl didn’t exist. After she was snapped at, Joan moved away slightly, but then perked up, hope glinting in her eyes.

“Okay...I’ll wait in my dressing room, alright?”

“Alright,” Jane said, not really listening to what was being said to her.

“Just come in when you’re done, okay?”

“Okay, Joan.”

“Great!” Joan beamed. “I’ll be waiting!”

With that, Joan turned around and scurried back to her dressing room, an excited smile on her lips. Anne watched her go, waited a moment, then walked to Jane’s room. Inside, the woman seemed to be packing up to leave for the day.

“You’re going to go see Joan, right?”

Jane looked up as she was grabbing her purse. She sniffed, nostrils flaring slightly, clearly miffed.

“She can wait.”

“She would starve to death by the time you finally got around to seeing her,” Anne pointed out, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest. She raised an eyebrow at Jane as if to add, “Am I wrong?”

“I have other things to do.” Jane said, sliding past the comment instead of facing it head on.

“Like what? Knit? Watch Love Island? Cuddle Kitty for the hundredth time?” Anne narrowed her eyes in an accusing stare. She’s been defensive of Joan ever since the Live where the music director fell asleep in her lap. “All of that stuff will still be there after you take ten minutes to go see what Joan made for you.”

Jane’s soft, kind facial features contort into that of a snarling white tiger’s- teeth bared, eyes alight, ears pinned back. But Anne wasn’t scared of her- not anymore. Deep down, she knew that Jane was nothing but a scared little kitten trapped in a circus cage.

“Joan isn’t my main priority,” Jane said dismissively, but the tiger’s claws remained unsheathed. “I don’t have to do anything for her.”

“Jane, that girl would take a bullet for you.” Anne said, stalking closer. Her voice went into a low whisper- a growl of sorts. “You know that, Jane. She would do anything for you.”

It was like a stare down between a tiger and a mountain lion- neither wanted to back down or step away.

“Why can’t you just be a good person? I’m not asking you to sign adoption forms for the kid, I’m asking you to just be a friend to her and go see what she wants to show you. It’s not that hard. It’s— her presence isn’t going to strike you dead! Just go look at her painting!”

Jane stared into Anne’s smoldering eyes, adjusted the strap of her purse hanging from her shoulder, and stepped past her towards the door.

“Kitty needs me.” She merely said.

“Of course she does,” Anne rolled her eyes. “It’s not like there’s three other fucking people living in that house than can respond to her every beck and call.”

Jane didn’t reply, as she was already out the door and making her way to the lobby by the time Anne finished her grumbled comment.

Anne considered going after her and dragging her to Joan’s dressing room by the hair, but she didn’t want to give the woman anymore thought. So, instead, she went to the dressing room herself and her heart broke a little when she saw Joan sitting patiently in the chair at her desk, legs swinging back and forth excitedly, smiling down at the canvas in her hands. Her head snapped up when she heard Anne step inside, but her expression dimmed when she saw that it wasn’t the silver queen.

“Oh. Hey, Anne.”

“What? Am I really that bad company?” Anne said teasingly.

“No,” Joan said, giggling slightly. “I just- I thought you were Jane.”

Anne frowned. She walked over to the girl and set a hand on her shoulder. Joan looked up with those adorable, glistening lamb eyes of hers and the words momentarily caught in Anne’s throat.

“I don’t think Jane is coming, dear.”

Joan blinked. Anne knew she knew what she meant, but she was trying to not believe it by playing dumb.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“She just left.” Anne answered gently.

Like that, all hope and excitement is gone in a flash, replaced with deep sadness that forms over Joan’s head like a thick, dark rain cloud. She looked down at the painting lying in her lap and clenched her fists tightly around the edges.

“Oh.” She whispered.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Anne said. She looked down at the canvas, too, and before her eyes soft watercolors and metallic paints and dark line-art came together brilliantly to form the beautiful painting of Jane Seymour. It was a bust shot of her in her show costume, but she was also adorned in shimmering strings of diamonds and pearls and topazes, and had a sparkling crystal crown sitting atop her head.

“This is beautiful, Joan!” Anne exclaimed honestly, because it absolutely was true. Joan truly was skilled with paints and pencils. “You’re so talented.”

“Thanks,” Joan replied, slightly disconnected. She appreciated the comment, Anne knew she loved praise, but she didn’t want to hear it from the green queen.

She wanted to hear it from the silver one.

Joan sighed and stood up, and Anne half expected her to destroy the painting or throw it away, but a tiny, hopeful smile actually tugged at her lips.

“I’m just going to leave it on her makeup table,” She said. “So- so it’ll be the first thing she sees tomorrow!”

Anne smiled and gently rubbed the girl’s head.

“That’s a good idea, Joey!” She said, even though she knew the odds of Jane actually going to Joan and telling her how much she loved the piece of art were very slim.

Still, for the time being, it cheered Joan up and she beamed at Anne before hurrying to go put the canvas in its place. Anne’s smile disappeared the moment she was out of sight and she sighed. She made a mental note to stay up until 11:11 that night so she could try wishing. Might as well see if the superstition was true.

———

Anne ended up falling asleep way before 11:11, but it didn’t matter because she knew trying to wish on a set of ones on her phone screen and alarm clock wouldn’t have made a difference since Jane would still be prancing around the theater like she is now, as if she hadn’t been gifted a gorgeous work of art. Anne wasn’t even sure if she had even seen the painting, but upon peeking inside the dressing room and seeing that the canvas was moved to the side of one of the makeup tables proved that Jane had, in fact, seen it.

She just didn’t care.

And that made Anne furious.

Poor Joan. She didn’t even have time to warn or distract the girl before she was skittering up to Jane with excitement glittering in her eyes.

“Jane!”

Jane sighed as she was getting a cup of coffee from the break room. If Joan heard the noise, she didn’t acknowledge it and just kept up her eager demeanor.

“Hello, Joan,” Jane said. All evidence of the warmth she had been speaking to Kitty with just a few minutes earlier was now gone.

“Did you see my painting? The one I made for you?” Joan asked. “I waited for you yesterday, but you didn’t come in and I just assumed you were too busy, so I left it on your table! It was there, right? Did you see it? Or did it get moved? Was it there?”

“Joan!” Jane growled, her hand clenching tightly around the cup she was holding. The sudden sharpness in her voice made the girl before her step back slightly. “Joan.” She smoothed out her tone, but remained as caring as Zira from The Lion King 2. “I saw it, yes. It was there.”

The momentary flash of fear and anxiety from getting yelled at disappeared from Joan’s eyes. She perks back up again, her feet now shuffling and tapping happily on the floor (her “Happy Feet”, as it's been dubbed by Maria).

“Oh! Great!” If she had a tail, it would definitely be wagging. Or if she were alone, she’d probably be frolicking around the room like a happy little lamb. “So? What did you think? Did you love it? I mean—like it? Did you like it?”

“It was nice,” Jane said, trying to swerve around Joan and her radiation of glee blocking the path to the door.

“Really?” Joan wanted more. She wanted more than just ‘nice.’ She needed more. “I’m really glad, Jane, because it was the first time I tried out watercolors and metallic paints together in one painting so I had no idea how it would turn out but it seemed to be good, right? I mean- obviously! You just said it was nice! B-but, umm-” She watched Jane walk for the door without really listening to her. She followed after her desperately. “S-so— Are you gonna hang it up?”

That’s what got Jane to stop. She turned to the girl impatiently fidgeting behind her and looked at her as if there were elephants parading out of her ears.

“Why would I do that?”

Up until that moment, Joan had been looking at Jane in a way that made it seem like there were swelling hearts in her eyes. But those hearts just broke with that single comment. Joan is left scrambling to pick up the pieces, but can barely catch anything, as all her hope also bleeds out through her fingers.

“B-because I...I made it. For you.” She said meekly.

“Fans make me stuff all the time but you don’t see me putting it on the fridge,” Jane chuckled, actually quite amused by the situation. “It was nice, Joan. And I appreciate it. No need to push it farther than that, because then it’ll just get weird. Like I’m worshiping a simple drawing or something.” She laughed again, then continued her stride out the door.

Joan was distraught, but as she watched the queen leave, her words fully sinking in, anger bubbled up inside of her. She grit her teeth, fingers clenching into fists. She could feel the ram horns poke uncomfortably against her forehead and slowly breach from her flesh, primed for blood.

“It’s not just some simple drawing, you—!!”

That’s all she could yell before Jane wheeled back around and stared at her from the hallway. Then, she enters once again and Joan backs up in fear, as if she were being stalked by a starving white tiger. She could almost see it in Jane’s face, but her teeth weren’t bared. Her lips were just set in a startling flat line that brought out the horror of the rest of her blank features.

“What? What?” Jane prodded. “I’m what?”

“Nothing...” Joan squeaked, hunching her shoulders in and lowering her head.

“I’m what, Joan?”

“Nothing!”

“A jerk? A prick? A bitch? A cunt? What am I, Joan?”

“Nothing! You’re nothing!” Joan cried. “I’m sorry!”

Jane had Joan cornered- literally. The girl was backed up in the far corner of the room near the window, which she glanced at for just a moment, as if she were considering jumping out of it to get away from the queen’s sterling wrath.

Jane calmly set down her cup of coffee on the nearby counter and laced her fingers together against her stomach. Her gaze was callous and cruel, offering absolutely no pity to the girl cowering beneath her uncaring stare.

“I’m going to explain this to you once, Joan, so you better listen because I will not tell it to you again.” She said. Her words are slithering slowly from her lips like venomous snakes, scaly and fanged. They bite Joan’s ears, pumping their poison into her brain no matter how hard she tried to combat them. “Nod if you understand that.”

Joan nodded shakily. She isn’t making eye contact, rather focusing her gaze on the floor and nothing else.

“I am not your mother figure.” Jane said bluntly, not even bothering to sugarcoat the comment. She was so tired of having Joan trying to force her way into her life. “You are not my daughter.”

With just those two simple sentences, it was as if Joan’s entire life just ended. It didn’t just come crashing down to her feet- it was over. She was nothing without her queen.

“B-but—”

“You are not my daughter.” Jane repeated coldly. “Do you understand me?”

This time, Joan doesn’t nod.

Jane narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“Nod, Joan.”

“Wh-what about—Kitty-”

“Don’t bring her up, Joan. This isn’t about her.” Jane warned lowly.

But Joan couldn’t stop the words that began to bubble up in her throat. Her voice comes out way too loud and way too shrill and way too desperate, but she can’t choke it back.

“Why? What does she have that I don’t? What did I do? What can I do to make you love me like that? Why her? What makes her so—”

The sound of a slap resonates through the room.

Joan was hit so hard she actually stumbled into the wall. She tentatively touches her stinging cheek, which burns upon contact, then looks up in fear at Jane, whose hand is slightly red from the force she had used.

There is no remorse present in the queen’s steel grey eyes.

“Do NOT speak of my daughter in that way again, you vile little pest!” Jane roared. Her old self, her fearsome queen self slips out in her words, and it chills Joan to the bone. “I will bring your guts into your mouth if you even THINK to do it again!”

It’s as if Jane was dehorning Joan- grabbing onto the ram horns with strong, clawed hands and twisting and twisting and twisting until they snapped off and are pulled out of her flesh with copious squirts of blood pouring free, leaving twin gaping red horrors open in her head.

“C-calm down!” Joan squeaked. “You’re scaring me!”

“And you WONDER why I don’t want to be your mother figure!” Jane went on, ignoring the plea. “I could list a hundred reasons right now and that still wouldn’t be enough to explain to you about how much I don’t want you as a daughter!” Joan doesn’t ask for any of them, but they’re still shoved down her throat anyway. “You’re clingy, you’re needy, you expect everyone to like you, you’re always tugging at my sleeve, you seem to think everything is about you, you act like a complete attention whore, to name a few! Why would I EVER want to be the mother to someone like you?”

“HEY!!”

It was like watching two big cats fight on a wildlife documentary- Anne seemed to come out of nowhere and charged her entire body into Jane’s, sending them both slamming into the back wall.

They tussle and squirm for a moment, snapping and hissing and clawing, and then Anne’s hand closed around Jane’s neck. Not enough to choke her, but enough to shove her head back up against the plaster and grind her skull into it.

“Anne, get off of me—”

“You bitch! You fucking bitch—”

“Get off—”

“You’re absolutely—”

“Stop—”

“What gives you the fucking right—”

“Let go—”

“You deserve to—”

Jane shoved Anne’s shoulders with both hands, causing the woman to totter backwards before she regained her footing. She almost lunged at the silver queen again, but somehow managed to tame herself enough to not pounce on her like a puma and gouge her eyes out, as much as she wanted to at that moment.

“You are SICK!” Anne yelled.

“You were about to strangle me!” Jane fired back.

“Yeah? Well, I wish I fucking did! Because God knows you deserved it!”

Anne paused her spray of fire to look at Joan, who was hunched against the wall, knees buckled and barely holding her up, tears streaming from her eyes, one hand cupping her swollen, red-purple cheek. Anne snapped her head back to Jane, bloodlust and rage blistering in her eyes.

“Did you fucking hit her?” She snarled.

“She was being a—”

“BULLSHIT!” Anne snapped, cutting Jane off. “That’s not what I fucking asked! Did you hit Joan?”

Jane just glared at Anne, as if she were an angry child that didn’t get the toy they wanted.

“Oh my god,” Anne half gasped, half laughed. “You absolute cunt! You really think that nobody else in this world matters, huh? Some ‘cast mother figure’ you are. It’s just you and that spoiled little weasel you keep on a harness!”

Despite loving Kitty to death, Anne couldn’t care about the comment she just made about her baby cousin because it was true.

Jane went to say something, went to somehow defend her actions, but Anne was talking again.

“I get it now! I finally understand!” She said. “You didn’t die of natural causes at all! You died from God striking you down because he KNEW what a horrible, cruel mother you would have been. He SAVED Edward from you!”

Finally, that’s what got Jane to crack. And, damn, it felt good to watch horror twist up her features.

“You really do have a heart of stone.” Anne spit.

She crossed over to Joan, who had been crying silently, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, helping her stand. The poor thing was shaking so badly.

“Come on, sweetie,” She whispered, her tone softening in an instant. “Let’s go.”

Joan staggered for a moment, nearly collapsing, but Anne managed to hold her up. She grappled onto the queen’s shirt and Anne could see that her cheek was definitely bruising.

“Oh, Joan…” Rage bubbles in her veins. She hears the girl whimper. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m not going to let her hurt you ever again.”

Anne casts a dark look at Jane.

Jane does nothing but stare forward blankly, lost in her own memories.

“Come on. Let’s go get something for your cheek.”

Joan didn’t resist. She let Anne guide her out of the room.

But not without Anne shooting out one last comment.

“Oh, and I’ll make sure to vote for you as Mother of The Year, Jane.”

[hopewrought]

I'm more than 10 years over the rp age limit, take me out behind the shed and put me down like old yeller.

[memedong]

Bruh dont fuckin lie!!! Ur not like. Even. Close to being 'repulsive' I would thump u in a heartbeat if you didnt live in fuckin Antarctica or some shit

jgdjgDDHSHDHD BRO

i look in the mirror & am like “i need to be put down like a rabid dog behind the shed w/ an old shotgun” just call me ol yeller 

[freshlyjuicedbeetles]

Bathtime for Ruth - The Ancient Magus Bride fanfiction

Ruth is sprayed by a skunk!

I have to give my two hounds a bath today, so it seemed like an appropriate story. I adore the little lizard neighbor that crawls all over Chise. I want one so badly, so I named him Ted! Forgive my ignorance if he actually has a name, I haven’t been able to read the manga yet and only caught up with the dub.

Please leave feedback and feel free to make requests! 

Ruth is first and foremost, a dog. He may have a human form and complex emotions and thoughts, but he still a dog and does dog things. He licks and smells everything in his vicinity, circles this way and that to lay down and has a collection of toys under the couch ranging from proper dog toys, a single winter glove of Chise’s, Silver’s favorite measuring spoons and a gnarled pair of Elias’ Oxfords.

Chise was sitting in the window seat, happily reading Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman with the warm spring sunlight beaming down on her and her book when a harangue of vicious barking startled her. Dropping her book, she looked out the window and saw the black mass of fur named Ruth fighting something in the bushes.

Chise hurried outside. Unfortunate fates of dogs stormed through her mind, Marley, Old Dan, and Little Anne, Yeller, Hachikō…Chise’s mind numbly thought what Ruth’s potential death would mean for her, but she was more focused on his wellbeing.

“Ruth!” She called, pulling the Grim out by his shoulders. Luckily, he looked unscathed. Then, it hit her.

Chise covered her nose in revolt, “Ruth! You reek!” She exclaimed.

“There is a rodent in the bushes!” Ruth exclaimed.

Realization dawned on Chise, “Ruth, what color was it?”

It was an over-simplification that dogs were colorblind, Chise knew, even before Ruth came along. However, their color palette was limited, but she trusted Ruth’s perception.

“What?” Ruth asked, still preoccupied with the rodent that evaded him, “Black and white, but the white part was a stripe that went all the way down its body.”

“Ruth! That was a skunk and it sprayed you! I can’t let you in the house like this! I’m going to have to give you a bath.”

That caught the Grim’s attention. He hated baths and even hated them when Isabel bathed him. He didn’t smell like himself and hated the sound of running water echoing in the bathroom.

“No! Please Chise!” Ruth begged, as though pleading for his life.

Chise sighed and shook her head. She saw the ancient magus looking down on them from the open window.

“Ruth was sprayed by a skunk!” Chise said her husband.

Elias laughed heartily.

“Don’t yell that! People will hear!” Ruth said, hanging his head in embarrassment.

“Come inside. I’m sure the Silver Lady has a remedy or two up her sleeve.” Elias said. Ted, the lizard neighbor that constantly crawled over Chise, was just barely tall enough to look out over the window sill with Elias.

Chise nodded and took a few steps before she noticed that Ruth was following her.

“Stay,” She asserted with ‘stop’ hand motion.

Ruth looked down in dejection.

“Silver,” Chise called, searching the home for her. She found the spirit dusting in Elias’ office. “Ruth was sprayed by a skunk. Do you know what will get the smell out of his fur?”

Silver thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded her head. She took Chise’s hand and brought her into the bathroom. Silver opened the medicine cabinet and handed Chise a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. She took Chise’s hand again and led her to the kitchen, taking a bottle of dish soap, box of baking soda and an old bowl, towel, and spoon. Without further instruction, the Silkie pushed the young woman outside with her dog.

Chise sighed and sat down on the porch as Ruth kept guard for the skunk who dared impede on his territory. Reluctant to just throw the ingredients together willy-nilly, Chise searched her phone for a recipe.

Technology was finicky around magic. While her and Elias’ home was updated with modern comforts of electricity and running water, other forms tended to well, explode. Chise noticed that anyone who happened to come by with a current iPhone would explode like a firecracker, while older models and other brands worked just fine.

Finding a recipe, Chise set work and unraveled the water hose from the side of the house.

“Why can’t you just put me in the tub?” Ruth complained.

“Silver would have a heart attack if I tried to bathe you in the tub. I’m sorry, Ruth, you’re getting the hose.” Between the revolting smell embedding itself in the house and how much Ruth shed, it was better all round to do it outside. His fur would surely clog the drain.

“No!” Ruth hollered, “I’ll change into my human form and bathe myself!”

“No, you won’t!” Chise said, seeing through his lie. “You said you would that day we spent at the creek!”

Chise sighed and sat down on the stone pathway with the water hose peacefully babbling. She scratched his neck, “It’ll be okay, Ruth. I promise,” She said and quickly mixed up the remedy in the old bowl.

She held the water over Ruth’s back and belly, just dampening his fur before he had other ideas.

“Nope, I don’t like this,” Ruth said definitively, shaking his head before taking off, slinging water on Chise in the process.

“Ruth!” Chise called, trying to grab Ruth, but he was too fast. She caught herself before falling forward and hurried after him.

“I need to protect my family!” He groused as Chise tried to pull him from the bushes by his backend. Ruth, however, dug his paws in.

“It’s a skunk, Ruth. They won’t bother us if we don’t bother them.” Chise explained, slight annoyance in her voice. “If you behave, I’ll talk to Silver about letting you have thirds tonight at dinner.”

The Silkie had limited Ruth’s portions at mealtimes to seconds only. If the rest of the family wasn’t quick, he’d eat just about everything. Food was a good motivator for young men and dogs, right?

Ruth thought for a moment, pulling his head from the bushes, “Promise?”

“I’ll do my best. It depends on what Silver says.”

“Alright.” Ruth acquiesced, not looking at Chise.

“Thank you, Ruth,” Chise said, scratching her familiar behind his ears. They returned to the porch and Chise sat back down. She scratched his ears once more and used this as a distraction to fully wet him down. He still grumbled at the treatment but allowed his human to do her work.

Chise then covered her hands in the mixture and worked it deep into Ruth’s fur. He actually liked that part, his back leg kicking appreciatively. She brought the mixture down to his skin and roots and up to the ends of the fur, leaving nothing untouched.

“Are you ready for the water again, Ruth?” She asked.

“Fine,” Ruth grumbled.

Chise rinsed him as fast as she could, but Ruth still hated every moment. Afterwards, she let him shake as she cleaned up the porch and toweled him off.

Her work being done, she sighed and sat back down next to her damp familiar. Chise herself was just as wet as though she had her own bath, but was covered in black dog hair. At least Ruth smelled better.

“Please don’t do that again, Chise.”

“I can’t make that promise.” She admitted.

Ruth just hung his head and whimpered.