#even the night we were at the fucking vet he said we could get another cat. fucking disgusting. i dont want another cat i want HER

[grandeoatmilklatte]

Until You Scream Again 👻 - Garreth x Ghostface MC AU

Super late Weasley Wednesday post and not on a theme because there wasn’t one this week, but this idea was inspired by a convo with @greedyforgarreth where we thought it would be cool to remake my Ghostface Garreth fic, but instead MC is Ghostface and Garreth is the supportive boyfriend who is hella into it. So consider this a part 2 of sorts to my Ghostface Garreth fic, with the roles reversed.

Garreth Weasley x Ghostface F!MC - 3k words || Summary: Garreth believes his girlfriend is cheating on him. He decides to confront her about it, but gets much more than he bargained for.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of viol3nc3 and murd3r. Characters are 18+, college students, and it's an AU, so not in the HL universe. Do not engage if you are under 18!!!

“That lying bitch!” Leander shouted as he downed his beer. 

“Relax mate, I still don’t know if she’s actually cheating on me. I hope not, but let’s not call her names until we know for sure.” Garreth said as he drank his own beer, trying to calm his best friend down as they leaned on either side of the kitchen island inside the apartment Garreth shared with his girlfriend, the subject of Leander’s harsh words. Although Garreth was trying his hardest not to jump to conclusions that she was cheating, it was hard to ignore the signs. 

Yesterday was the third time this month that she had done it. She claimed she had to rush off to work, that the veterinarian had an after hours call and needed his best vet tech to assist, which was normal enough and had happened before. But these recent “calls” she had been getting always happened much later than normal, and she’d come home well after midnight, after Garreth had already gone to bed. The strangest part, when she did come home, she’d run straight into the shower, before even saying hello to Garreth. Anytime he would try to greet her, she’d refuse him until she had showered. Garreth and his girlfriend had been dating for three years now and he had seen her come home with all types of animal bodily fluids on her scrubs, why was she acting so strange now all of a sudden? Not to mention, anytime Garreth questioned her about how her evening went, her answers were always incredibly vague, a stark contrast to other times that she’d come home with tons of stories to tell about her work day. 

“I know you love her, mate, but you have to face the facts.” Leander interrupted Garreth’s thoughts. “You said it yourself, why is she rushing into the shower as soon as she gets home? Probably to wash that other man off of her before climbing into bed with you. Fucking whore.” 

“That’s another thing.” Garreth took another swig of his beer as he continued. “She’s different in bed too. She wants me to spank her, pull her hair, call her a whore, all these naughty things. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hot as hell, but it’s different.”

“Yeah, that other guy probably does it to her and now she wants you to do it to her too. She’s cheating. You need to catch her in the act. Confront her at the front door, before she has a chance to shower. If it seems like she was with another man, then you have your answer.” Leander advised as he grabbed another beer from the fridge. 

Leander was right. He needed to catch her red handed. He was going to wait until the next time she had a late night call, act like he was going to bed, and then wait up for her. He didn’t want to believe the love of his life was cheating. He had already started shopping around for a ring. But the worry was eating him alive. He would remain hopeful it was just a misunderstanding, but he needed to know one way or the other. 

-------------------------

She arrived home from work a little after 6pm, in a chipper mood as usual. Garreth also behaved like normal, not wanting to raise any suspicions. He pulled her into a deep kiss, which she returned with the same enthusiasm, her hands coming up into his hair as she moaned against his lips. “How could she be cheating on me?” He thought to himself, still hopeful that it was a misunderstanding. She pulled away from the kiss after a few moments. “I need to hop in the shower. I’m all sweaty from dealing with the dogs all day. Care to join?” She shot him a seductive smile and he was instantly putty in her hands, letting her lead him to the bathroom. 

Within seconds, they were undressed and under the warm shower water. They resumed their prior activity, her kisses becoming more passionate than before. As her lips moved to Garreth’s neck, Garreth’s heart began to ache as Leander’s words echoed in his head. “She couldn’t be. There’s no way.” He kept repeating to himself to drown Leander out of his head. He was so caught up in his conflicting thoughts that he was no longer paying attention to his girlfriend, at least not until he felt hot wet lips wrap around his cock. 

Garreth snapped back to reality with a groan as he looked down, her mouth moving up and down his length. One hand involuntarily wrapped in her wet hair as he thrusted into her mouth, his other hand keeping him steady against the shower wall. She looked up at him, her eyes full of love and admiration as she took him to the back of her throat, Garreth moaning in appreciation. She kept eye contact as she worked him, letting out muffled moans herself. Garreth’s thoughts returned as he kept his eyes locked with hers, but this time all he heard was his own voice instead of Leander's, telling himself “She’s not cheating. She loves me.” Over and over again. 

Every single thought in his brain was obliterated as he came with a loud moan, shooting his load straight down her throat. She proudly swallowed every drop, giving him one final suck before she released him. He helped her back up to her feet and pulled her into one more kiss before they actually started showering, the thought of her cheating never once popping back into Garreth’s head. 

---------------------------

After they were showered and dressed, they found themselves on the couch trying to find something to watch. As they flipped through tv channels, a news report caught Garreth’s attention. 

It was another report on the Ghostface attacks. Three attacks this month, the most recent being yesterday. They all happened at night on campus. Garreth and his girlfriend thankfully lived in off campus housing, but it was still close to home. Whoever this psycho was, they were running around in a mask, the police dubbing them “Ghostface”. This Ghostface also had a habit of calling their victims on a blocked number before attacking them, taunting them and asking them questions with some kind of voice changing device to mask their identity. Garreth was worried about his girlfriend having a run in with this maniac, especially with her late night outings.

Once again, Garreth’s thoughts were interrupted by his girlfriend, who had changed the channel. “Can we watch something else? This guy creeps me out.”

---------------------------

About a half hour later, the couple were snuggled under a blanket on the couch, Garreth’s arm wrapped around her. He watched the tv intensely, a sudden music sting sending him screaming into her arms. 

“Wow babe! You really can’t handle a scary movie, can you?” She teased, stroking his red curly hair. 

“Hey! No need to be rude!” He replied as he playfully pushed her to lay on the couch. She giggled as she went down, and he proceeded to climb on top of her, dipping his head down so he could kiss her. The kiss started off gentle, but became more heated as the seconds went on. The movie quickly became forgotten as Garreth’s fingers slipped below the waistband of her panties, her moans drowning out any sound from the tv. 

He pulled his wet digits out of her so that he could undress her, pulling down her sweatpants and panties in one motion. He then worked his own pants off and lined himself up with her soaked entrance. His tip had just breached her when her phone rang on the coffee table, which she answered, much to Garreth’s annoyance. 

Garreth let out a huff as he got off the couch, rolling his eyes and putting his pants back on, listening as she repeated the same words she did every time: “Yeah, I can come in! Okay. See you soon!”

She could see the frustration in Garreth’s green eyes. So far he has made an effort to not seem suspicious of her, but he was reaching his breaking point, almost on the verge of tears. “Seriously babe?! Can we please just have a night together without you leaving?!” 

“Garreth, I’m really sorry!” She seemed genuine as she stood up, still naked from the waist down. She wrapped her arms around his neck, staring lovingly at him. “I promise this will be a quick job. I’ll go, come back, and then, you can do whatever you want to me tonight. Okay?” 

It was so hard for him to deny her, especially when she looked at him like that. He sighed and gave his approval. She smiled and pecked him on the lips before running to their bedroom to change. 

----------------------------

Ten minutes later, with her work bag in hand, she bid him farewell. 

“I’ll be back soon, okay baby! Keep the doors and windows locked, and keep an eye out for that Ghostface!” She shot him one last smile before heading out. 

Garreth looked down at himself, noticing his cock still very hard from their earlier activities. “Guess it’s you and me now, Not-So-Little Gar!” He sighed before dropping his pants once again, situating himself on the couch, cock in hand.  

--------------------------

The shrill ring of his phone woke Garreth up from his nap, having fallen asleep after taking care of himself and cleaning up the mess. He looked around, noting that the apartment was still empty, his girlfriend not having arrived home yet. Garreth looked at his phone, the time reading 11:45pm, and the caller ID reading “blocked”. Reluctantly, he answered with a soft “Hello?”

“Hello, Garreth! Do you like scary movies?” Garreth immediately recognized the voice as the Ghostface voice, the same one that was described in the news broadcast. It was raspy and robotic, like it was coming from a voice changer.

Garreth shot up from the couch. “Uh…who is this? Is this you, Leander?!”

“No. This isn’t Leander. Now answer the question, handsome! What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Well, I actually don’t really like scary movies. Jurassic Park scared me pretty bad when I was a kid and I’ve been traumatized ever since.”

The voice giggled at Garreth’s reply. “That’s cute. You’re very cute.”

Garreth felt himself blush at Ghostface’s words, but he got a hold of himself, assuring himself that this was just a prank. 

“Leander, you’re not funny, mate. Cut the bullshit.”

“THIS ISN’T FUCKING LEANDER!” The voice screamed. “You know, you’re lucky you’re so cute, or I would have gutted you like a fish already. I just love the way your white tee shirt shows off your muscles so nicely. Fuck. I just want to bust through your door and throw myself on you. Ride your perfect cock until you’re screaming for me to stop.”

Garreth's emotions were conflicted, on one hand, he was terrified at the realization that whoever this was must be able to see him, since they knew what he was wearing. On the other hand, Ghostface was naughty, and he could feel arousal taking him over. He approached the living room window. It was locked, but the curtain was open, making it the likely source from where his caller was watching him. 

“Fuck. That sounds hot. I’d love for you to ride me, baby! But wait, how do you know what I'm wearing? Are…are you watching me right now?”

“Oh yeah I am, baby! And I can see the outline of your delicious cock poking through those grey sweatpants, just begging for attention. Don’t worry. I’d be happy to give you some.”

Garreth felt his cock twitch at Ghostface’s words, but his brain processed a completely opposite feeling - panic. 

“This has been a lovely conversation, Mister Ghostface, but my girlfriend would not be pleased to hear this, so I’m hanging up now. Enjoy your evening.”

“Wait! Don’t you fucking hang up on me! If you hang up I swear I’ll-”

Garreth ended the call, dashing to the windows to shut the curtain, then running to the kitchen to grab a knife. His eyes darted between the front door and his phone, desperately trying to call his girlfriend. But a sound froze him in his tracks -  the sound of the front door being opened. 

In walked Ghostface, dressed in a black robe and brandishing a knife. Garreth held up the knife in his own hand, waving it around and frantically screaming.

“Garreth!” Ghostface shouted in their signature altered voice. “Garreth stop, it's me!”

Garreth looked over at Ghostface, confused for a moment before Ghostface pulled off their mask, long beautiful hair falling from the mask.

“Babe?!” Garreth almost burst into tears. There she was. His girlfriend. The love of his life, currently holding a knife in one hand and a Ghostface mask in the other.

She dropped the knife as she ran over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Hi baby!” She planted a soft kiss on his cheek before looking up at him.

“But…but if that was you on the phone, that means…you’re…”

“Ghostface. Yep. That’s me! Well, I’m half of Ghostface. It’s actually me and Imelda! This was mostly her idea. You know she’s a little craaaaazy.” She put a sing-songy emphasis on her last word. “I was just along for the ride. I know we’ve only done this three times, but it’s pretty sexy being so in control with this thing on!”

“So…you’re not cheating on me?” Garreth asked, almost on the brink of tears.

“WHAT?! Baby I love you. Are you insane? I would never cheat on you!”

With that out of the way, Garreth could focus on the variety of other feelings he was experiencing right now. His girlfriend was Ghostface. He knew it was wrong what she was doing, and he knew it was wrong to feel this way, but he found her so incredibly hot like this - sweaty, panting, with a hungry look in her eyes. His arousal began to make itself known again as his hard cock began to press against his sweatpants. All his logic and reasoning began to fade away. He shot her a wicked smile before he spoke, recalling her taunting on the phone. 

“What was it you said on the phone? Something about ‘riding me until I begged you to stop’?”

Her jaw dropped, immediately turning into a smile as she threw her arms around him once again, leading him into the bedroom, where she lightly shoved him so he’d land on the bed. Garreth undressed himself fully, but when she went to remove her robe, Garreth stopped her. 

“No! Leave it on. I want you to fuck me in it!”

Her heart almost burst out of her chest at his willingness. She reached under her robe to pull her bottoms down, so that she was bare from the waist down under her robe. In one quick motion, she climbed on top of him, lifted up her robe, and took a moment to position herself above him before she sank down on his length, her wetness allowing her to take him fully and deeply. 

They both let out pleasured noises at entry, and the room quickly began to fill with more loud noises from both of them as she rode his cock. Garreth noticed movement in the corner of his eye, noticing the Ghostface mask that had been discarded on the bed bouncing around with each rock of her hips. He held it in his hand for a moment, imagining her causing mayhem with it on. He then held it up to her and practically growled at her. 

“Put it on.”

She did so, and Garreth let out a sinful groan in appreciation. She felt her walls tighten at the sound, and she picked up her pace as much as she could, eagerly chasing both their releases. Garreth let out a whimper of her name, and this finally sent her over the edge as she came with a whimper of her own, her cries slightly muffled by the mask. 

Her movements came to a quick halt as she caught her breath, removing the suffocating mask from her head. Those quick seconds were more than enough time for Garreth to grab her and flip her over, so that he was now on top of her, her legs spread and Garreth in between them.  

He wasted no time, effortlessly shoving himself into her. Her screams filled the room as he showed her no mercy, his pace fast and rough. She had been encouraging him to be rougher with her lately, but this was the roughest he had ever been with her, and it had her spiraling in the best way possible. 

“You’re so pretty, baby! My pretty little whore. Why don’t you put the mask back on for me again?” He said through gritted teeth. 

She was already drenched in sweat brought on by the robe and the intense fucking, but she obeyed. She watched him through the eyes of the mask, his eyes dark as he stared at her. 

His thrusts started to become sloppy; the telltale sign that he was reaching his release. He let out one final moan of her name as he came, warm bursts of his cum painting her insides. After taking a second to catch his breath. He rolled over on the bed, and she removed her mask. 

They laid in silence for several minutes, basking in the afterglow of each other, Garreth’s arm around her, and her head resting on his chest, listening to his heart beat. Garreth’s mind was reeling. He had no idea how their relationship would change. He still loved her, that would never change. But now he knew what she was capable of. He would never admit it to anyone, but he found his girlfriend’s hobby to be extremely sexy, albeit terrible. He decided he would figure it out in the morning, succumbing to sleep with the love of his life wrapped in his arms. 

At least now he finally had his answer. She wasn’t cheating after all.

[lettucedloophole]

possibly the worst part of family vacations is seeing how my younger cousins are treated. my mom has since grown but she said our younger cousins remind her of us and man... at breakfast today my mom was showing my Four Year Old Cousin pictures she took during the vacation while smiling. there was a picture of his dad choking him (""jokingly"" i think?) and he said "i'm going to choke my dad by myself" and the other people at the table were like "that's so violent why would he say that :(" but when told its bc his dad was choking him they laughed... his mom was nonchalant abt it.

parents talk casually about when they accidentally hit their kids into furniture or halfway across the room when they just meant to do a little, "deserved" smack of discipline. heard another story like this during vacation, and it reminds me of the time my dad pulled my brother's hair while they were asleep and he started crying in class. he told the guidance counselor what happened and cps was supposed to come, but they never did. wouldn't have changed anything. my dad was pissed off about it but tried to play it off like he'd take their objective investigation.

those little brown kids are going to have to heal. i may be traumatized, but i feel like i was relatively safe as my dad was a softer person when i was younger. my uncle, my young cousins' dad, struggled with ptsd and he's better now but hasn't learned not to treat your kids like that. i wonder if my discomfort is obvious. i worry a little as the dad is the one who's a traumatized vet and republican (though not a crazy bigoted one), just because when my mom was traumatized by the military that meant abuse for my brothers and me. i hope the happiness of his marriage and healing shields his children from some of that treatment.

it's just sad cause they think they're being funny but it's just so...

my fam was stressed about cleaning up the airbnb we were staying in, it was about 11 at night and i was at the mall so i didn't get to try out the pool. it was no biggie, but i figured i could just go in at night. my aunt said no bc of quiet hrs, which is fine, i didn't know they had that in place around here, but she said she'd beat me if i snuck out and my aunt is the kind one and like Girl... i am 21 years old 😭

but i don't think i'm going to be an adult in samoan culture for a while now, and even if i am the elders will always trump me. it reminds me of how my cousin was beaten by her father because he lost some money he put in his lavalava (it's a samoan article of clothing, an EASY FUCKING THING to lose money you tuck into it) and thought she stole it based on one experience years ago. like, with a belt and bruises, and she is a 25 year old woman. i learned about this on my last vacation, and my aunt, her mom, cried and yelled at her father (and her brothers, who thought it was just fair that she was beaten). my mom offered to have her stay with us... it's been months, i checked in to how she's doing recently and she's forgiven her father, so my mom and auntie have too. i will not.

what can i do. i hope they cut contact with their parents until they change like i did, and i hope that works for them. or i hope their parents find jesus in a different sense and adopt nonviolent parenting. fruitless wish, the last one, probably. my cousins seem to have a twinge of sadness to them. the cheeriest one was downcast when we said our goodbyes, and i wonder if it's because it marks a return to normalcy where aunties who "coddle" kids will stop them from getting hit, be patient with them, or comfort them after it happens. what can you do.

[houseofpendragons]

Thoughts on Teen Wolf the Movie while watching it (SPOILERS) pt.1

Before I even start let me say that they should've just made it another 12 or 10 or hell even an 8 episode mini series

Should've opened with Isaac instead of Liam and Hikari in Japan smh. He was the last one to have the triskele box, how tf did Liam get it? (I do understand that Daniel Sharman couldn't be in the film but still...at least give me an explanation)

I don't care what they say, Hikari was supposed to be Kira and Hikari wasn't supposed to even exist. Liam and Hikari are clearly what Scott & Kira Should've been, minus the restaurant in Japan, if they'd done the right thing and brought Kira back in the last season. He said he'd wait for her😭. (Though I Stan the actress for not coming back when they were going to pay her white female castmates more than her. Honestly fuck them for that)

Why does Liam own a restaurant in Japan. How did we get here in our lives. Liam u supposed to be protecting Beacon Hills. Also idk what career I though Liam would get but it definitely wouldn't have been restaurant owner. I can see him as a coach maybe (at Devonford Prep in honor of Brett; huh maybe I did know what career I thought he'd have🤔)

Damn y'all really keeping Nogi with teas and spices. Ig hiding it in plain sight works idk 🤷‍♀️

Why Liam fall like that 😭

Damn Nogi really reminding me of the Witch from Narnia when she appeared in that ice wall thing in the second movie

also if Nogi can talk through that thing, why hasn't he manipulate someone into setting him free already

Though that Nogi was like a regular fly, not a firefly...

Scott being call "The Alpha" like they'll never know🤫 also like I thought Monroe went international w/ her hunting. Ain't no way Scott's just chillin all carefree enough to put his name on a business.

Yeah Scott save that doggie...oh and the little grl too. Also this would've been better plot wise if this was a flashback of Scott saving a little Hikari, it would explain how she's randomly apart of the pack now

Love how Scott's animal clinic looks like a mixture of Deaton's vet place and Derek's loft

Scott talking about having kids one day was how I knew they'd give him Eli at the end. Like wtf, he should be raised by his family, by other born wolves who know about the werewolf history that Derek did. Like hello we got great uncle Peter, auntie Cora, and hell even cousin Malia. Derek WOULD NOT want his SON raised by an ARGENT!

"I didn't see it. I took my eyes off the road for like two seconds to change the song on my ipod"

Wooo spooky 👻

I said ah oop jump scare Chris "I never use the front door" Argent

Poor Chris no parent ever deserves their child to die before them

Bardo! and who stayed up all night doing research about Bardo for you, huh, Mr. McTruealphaman. KIRA!

Yes papa Argent, say fuck

Well Jeff Davis said he wanted the timeline to work out so that Eli was born before Derek returned to Beacon Hills in an interview (idk where it is and I'm too lazy to find it) and after the series finale timeskip in the last season it was 2017, its now 2026 so technically it's been 11 years Scott my boy

Look at me out here fixing the timeline for everyone😁

"I got a feeling the real answers are in Beacon Hills" Yeah no shit Chris, everything's gotta do with Beacon Hills

Scott your the alpha. Be the alpha. Quit asking other people to to decisions for you, for the love of God

So Scott I understand why you left Beacon Hills but are we going to address what happend to Monroe and the internatipnal hunters Corp? No?...okay then

Chris why did you leave mama McCall. Jeff u really out here breaking everyone up. Should've got w/ Papa Stilinski so Scott and Stiles could be brothers fr "oh what could've been"

Why the pack break up? not gonna give me an explanation again...okay I'm sensing a pattern here

Yeassss!!! Business woman Lydia, we knew u could do it. And she looks very snazzy in that white outfit with her ponytail if I do say so myself. Funny how the banshee's business has to do with sound lmao it's perfect.

Lyd!😭 Thats Mrs. Martin-Stilinski to you! Shit at least call her Lyds so that you don't sound like your calling her a lid💀

Damn u think Lydia would've learned to look at stuff by now before handing it out. Nah but on a real note I feel like she should have a better understanding of her abilities by now, and have expanded on them, and had more control of them but that might be just me

I SAID ITS MRS. MARTIN-STILINSKI Ray or whatever ur name is!

Oooo the automatic writing again

Yayyy Eli Hale! In my head Eli is a nickname for Elijah, just like Derek is a nickname Frederick (if you known you know🤣)

Hale Auto?! Ain't no way. Derek ain't a mechanic. I refuse. Terrible career choice for the man. He's rich, he ain't even gotta work

Maybe Malia could be a mechanic but I doubt it, ooo a Park Ranger would be perfect.

Love how Eli just hotwired that jeep😂. Oh and just let me say this here and get it out of my system. Eli is similar to both Stiles and Scott when they were younger but he is NOT STILES. Yes he's sarcastic and a little delinquent but do you guys know how many teenagers are sarcastic little delinquents? Alot. It's a teen thing. I was the same way (minus the crimes😂) and still am sarcastic af. Love Eli as Eli, not a mini or replacement for Stiles. Love u guys to death but we went into this knowing there was no Stiles.

Jeff Davis: No Stiles.

Us: No Stiles?

Jeff Davis: No Stiles!

Boys gonna pop a damn wheelie in fucking Roscoe

Love how Parrish just calls Mason instead of tailing him

I'm fucking dead💀they was all too scared to tell Derek (me too thou bc sourwolf is scary😶)

Why is Mason a deputy? Feel like he should be working at Lydia's, like he's right under her is what I'd say he should be doing. I could see Corey, his husband, maybe being a deputy though. *gasp* or a cute little school teacher🥺

I stand by what I said earlier, Malia should be a park ranger and I add to that by saying that she should be the consultant and not Derek (though i understand they had to reintroduce his character) she spent a lot of time in those woods, and she's more intune with her animal side than anyone else

Derek still sexy af

serial arsonist...wolf pack also has a serial arsonist. I swear to God they should've just made it a spin off instead of its own thing

You definitely should call Stiles, he's head of his own supernatural devison in the FBI👍

Love how Derek was like a fugitive for most of the series and now he works w/ the police. Eli taking up that criminal mantel now😂

I mean...is it really grand theft auto if he took it from his own dads shop🤷‍♀️🤣

Derek's got ptsd from the jeep

Eli wanted to race that grl, I now headcanon that's how he flirts. Just like his daddy he's like haha look I'm better than you at something "you wanna see some real speed bitch" (flashbacks to when Derek flirted with Paige by being an ass with that basketball, like grl just wanted to play her cello in peace and quite)

Love how Derek just like slashed the tires. Really said "i don't think so. My names Derek hale. I go way back" (I'm so sorry to anyone reading this)

Part 1-5

[icyhotheartwritings]

Pet death/incoherent grieving ramble

Loki passed away Tuesday night. It doesn’t feel real. I mean, we just celebrated his birthday - our birthday - three days before. He was fine. He tried to buck me off a couple weeks ago. He was sprinting around acting a fool when mom got Waffles out without him not a day before.

He was only 22. We were supposed to have years left. Years. I was expecting at least 28, hoping for 30 or more. I never expected to lose him so soon. He was so healthy, I did everything I could, every supplement he could possibly need, vets and farrier and anything he needed, he got.

We were training for a show next month. I was working out ways to cure him of not wanting to ride alone. We had plans to ride with people. We had a whole show schedule for the summer. I was going to build trail trial obstacles. We were going to conquer the fucking world. And now he’s gone. Just like that.

The worst - and best - part was… there was nothing that could have been done. It wasn’t a case of if we got there an hour or two earlier, gotten to the vet sooner, he would’ve been fine. There was nothing. There was no hope. When we got to the vet they were talking surgery, then said it was too bad for a referral, then she got the bloodwork back and he was gone. Suspected internal melanoma that killed his digestive system, or something similar. Wasn’t a gas colic. Wasn’t something that could be healed.

Some incredible stranger helped my dad bury him next to Dreamer. Dad buried his peppermints with him, every piece he could find in the tack room, like Dreamer had his butterscotches. We’re buying wildflower seeds to scatter over them.

The morning feeder bought some plastic flowers and taped them to his gate with an led candle light. I cried.

I swore that Loki would be my last horse, that I couldn’t go through the pain of losing them again and again like Star and Carrots and Quinn and Dreamer but I was supposed to have more years with him and I don’t think I’m done yet. The barn owner said his stall is mine, that I can take all the time I need to find the right horse and I think I’m giving it a couple months before I begin to look in earnest. Nothing could replace Loki. But he never replaced Carrots. And Carrots never replaced Star. And I know I can love another horse, but I just… I need time. There’s two BLM mustang auctions in about four months. I might go. Waffles is a mustang. He’s a good horse.

These past 6 months have been. Absolute hell. I’ve lost a cat, a dog, and Loki. Almost lost another cat, it’s a fucking miracle we still have him. But Darcy and Loki were not even 4 weeks apart. It’s been a hell of a March.

With Snarky and Darcy, at least, we knew it was coming. We had warning. Snarky had cancer. Darcy was old and sick. They were both old, older than they had any right to be. But Loki was young. And it was so goddamn sudden.

When I’m hurt and grieving, I don’t… show much outward emotion. I’m the rock for everyone else. I hold it down until I’m alone and can let myself cry. For him, I screamed. I fell to my knees and I screamed.

It feels like a piece of my soul has been ripped out of my chest. Torn out, pulled apart, and the pieces set to light. I loved that horse with everything I am. I hope he knew how much I loved him. He was part of me. All my animals are, but he was special. He was my baby, my everything. I thought he was dead during the big fire, the last thing I heard before the cell service went out was that my mom couldn’t get to the barn and my horse was trapped, and all I could think was that I wanted to run down that burning hill and join him. But we got through it, both of us, together. We got through everything together. He’d always be there for me, he’d wrap his big head around me and hug me as I held onto his neck and he’d let me groom him while I prattled on about this and that. And now I have to get through this alone and I don’t know how I’m going to do it.

I don’t know how to end this post. I miss my horse. And I don’t want to go to work at the barn tomorrow and see his empty stall with the breakfast he didn’t finish.

[silverskull]

One Last Secret

Chenford Week 2023 Day 4: Happy Hawley-Day! Another fic that (kind of!) ticks all three boxes! The song from the S5 promo, holiday themed, and relationship firsts! * self-impressed fist pump *

In the space between asking her out and actually getting to date her, Tim has a special New Year's Eve with Lucy.

Full fic below the cut, or here on AO3.

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Winter brought snow.

White flakes fell like magnolia petals, dusting the tropical plants in the parking lot with a coat of sparkling soft down.

“Weird, but fucking beautiful…” he heard Lucy murmur under her breath.

It didn’t last long, but the air stayed chill enough to send him to the back of his closet, digging out an LAPD puffer jacket he’d requisitioned on a whim many moons ago. They were discontinued now, and he enjoyed the smug feeling of superiority whenever he encountered a shivering junior officer, their duty jacket no real match for the unconventional weather.

He made the mistake of leaving it on the back of his chair once, the air-con in the station set to ‘heat’ with no suitable balance to be found between ‘not warm enough’ and ‘gates of hell’ and  Lucy had snagged it without telling him. “Just a quick run to the taco truck,” she’d offered, afterwards - and she looked so damn cute bundled inside its too-large hood, her nose and cheeks pinched red and bright with cold, that he couldn’t bring himself to demand its return.

The snow brought out the weirdos and the wackjobs, and work doubled in pace, officers dropping like flies with coughs and sneezes. “It’s not the cold, it’s viruses spreading when we gather indoors,” explained Thorsen, and Tim promptly bought a box of masks to leave on his desk and present to anyone who so much as sniffled in his direction.

He had a date to make it to.

They’d made initial plans for the weekend following the collar bomber, but work had put paid to that, a spate of Santa Stick-ups running riot along Miracle Mile for a whole three days before they managed to round them all up. After that, in their enthusiasm to get the ball rolling, they’d picked the following Thursday - the only day they both had off work that week - and then Kojo decided to swallow some squirrel droppings that had him puking his guts out for an entire night. Tim was stuck chasing after an emergency vet, and then ensuring the dog had regular drinks of rehydration medicine for twenty-four hours afterwards.

Getting frustrated, Lucy suggested going straight after work, late-night be damned, and he was almost willing to agree, but he really, really wanted this to be special.

She was special.

And when he told her that, she’d glowed, bouncing on the balls of her feet and shrugging herself deep into the folds of his jacket, satisfied that it was worth waiting for the right time.

But Christmas was coming, and it got more and more difficult to find a reservation - weekends, late nights and corner tables already swamped with office parties and family gatherings booked months in advance for the holiday season. He even enlisted Thorsen, bargaining a week - two - of warbag duty, if he could just find him a table somewhere nice on a day that suited them. Aaron had quirked an eyebrow - “A table for two?” - but at Tim’s sharp scowl, wisely said no more. 

But even the rich and famous couldn’t beat the system and, between them, they’d agreed to postpone their date until after New Year, when things quietened down and they could give it the attention it deserved. It nearly drove him mad, but - in one way - it was a pleasant sort of inconvenience, his days in the station passing with secret glances and shared smiles; Lucy trailing out of her way through the bullpen so she could ‘accidentally’ bump into him, or him ‘mistakenly’ buying two coffees instead of one, and passing the second along to her when they met under the stairs.

It was Nolan, of course, who nearly (unintentionally) outed them, inviting everyone to a New Year’s Eve celebration at his house, and at pains to publicly stress that Lucy and Tim were both welcome to bring plus-ones, even if their previous partners were now in the dumpster of history.

Lucy had covered well, smoothly professing that she was at peace with her singleness, and it would mean far more to attend with just their own familiar group. Tim nodded in energetic agreement, deciding to leave the talking up to her in case his tongue betrayed him in some way.

And so, they’d ended up in Nolan’s garden together, the chill air fended off by strong outdoor heaters and the champagne flowing freely. Angela’s mother had come to visit, happily babysitting Jack - and Leah too, when her parents dropped her off - and the older offspring of the group all had more important engagements than their parents’ lame backyard gathering.

Lucy had filled a plate for him from Bailey’s buffet, and they’d stood with Wesley, idly chatting about the increase in compensation claims for slipping on ice (why did people suddenly forget how to walk when the weather changed?). She kept stealing things from him when Wesley wasn’t looking - potato wedges, cherry tomatoes, tiny gourmet sausages - and he feigned exasperation, resting his elbow on a high table and raising the plate out of her reach. Wesley had given him a curious look, but didn’t ask any questions.

Angela and Nyla were practically high, the night of freedom from their parental responsibilities all but turning them into teenagers, starting rounds of shots with anyone who was available and wiring into Bailey’s drinks cart with willful abandon.

Grey and Luna arrived late, but brought enough sparklers and party poppers to make up for it, Luna ensuring that everyone was supplied with at least two handfuls of everything before midnight.

And when the countdown began, the little group wound its way to the back wall, Nolan’s new foliage artfully framing his small view of the city lights below them, and they listened in to the neighbour’s Spanish radio, excitedly counting off the seconds in a musical lilt.

Tim had stayed behind the others, Lucy hovering beside him with her sparkler lit, her eyes reflecting the flames like small galaxies, and he couldn’t resist the urge to wind his hand around her. She’d worn a beautiful outfit - she seemed to own nothing but beautiful outfits (or maybe it was her? Who knew. He was too far gone to tell.) - a black number with pink flowers, the flowing skirt slit on both sides, providing teasing views of her legs when she walked. He’d noticed the gap of skin at her waist before, and now he could feel it too - soft and warm and rising into goosebumps in the wake of his fingers.

She looked up at him as the last seconds ticked away, fireworks beginning to crackle to life in the sky above them, and as the countdown ended and the others cheered - each couple happily throwing themselves into a New Year’s embrace - it took everything in him not to kiss her there and then. He settled for taking her hand, raising it to his lips while she held his gaze, the fireworks lighting her face in gold and blue, her shy smile setting his heart aflutter.

Her skin was soft. So soft.

They’d been accosted by the others then, Angela merrily leading the exchange of hugs, Luna ensuring that everyone’s sparklers were sparkling and their poppers popped. Grey gave him a friendly clap on the back, his eyes darting between him and Lucy, but all he said was “Next year’s gonna be better than this, son,” before turning to hug Bailey and thank her for the party.

They’d stayed for a while afterwards, chatting and nibbling until the fireworks started to die down and Nyla and Angela began to yawn. James offered Lucy a ride, and Angela poked Wesley until he agreed to take Tim, and soon they were all packed into their separate cars and waving goodbye to Nolan and Bailey, backlit in the doorway of their home.

Lucy’s eyes caught his from the back seat of her car, one stray firework cascading in iridescent orange above her, and he tapped his fingers to his lips unconsciously. She mirrored the move, her smile stretching bright across the apples of her cheeks, and then she was gone, spirited away into the night and the new year that lay fresh and full of promise before them.

Next year's gonna be better than this year!

Next year's gonna be better than this 'cause

New Year's Eve comin' with a fresh kiss, yeah!

Next year's gonna be better than this!

[moonjxsung]

awwwwww your friend and his girlfriend are so cute!!! they should get fully into kpop and love felix even more.

i’ll update you when i know more about the rescue kitties then! i know the black kitty’s doing well but i haven’t heard from the calico that was injured aside that was back at the vet bc she wasn’t eating😪

and also, i had a dream. that randomly included skz at the end bc why not. i dreamt that i was part of this group of like vigilantes but we couldn’t know each other’s identities but we still like texted. and we had like the most domestic tasks ever like rescuing cats and stuff like that. so eventually we started sharing identities (the girls specifically) and our boss kinda made us move in together. and the group had this leader who came to the apartment once in a while with costume and everything. and there was this other member who had been flirting with me so i just went along with him. and once all the members (three girls including me and three boys) were at the apartment and we all receive a text. and it turns out that it was the pairings for a new skz music video (me, ofc, a super non visually appealing person in a skz mv)😭 and we were like in the kitchen counter/bar and the leader and i were standing. and the girls got their matches and it was like felix and seungmin i think. (so ofc i’m like lino pls🤞🏻) and i opened the message and it said “Bangchan!” and there was a qr code that when i opened it took me to a number in my contacts and it was the leader😭 and we just looked at each other. and the other guy just took off his mask and he wasn’t a member of skz or anything so he got staff. and he just leaves. and chan and i are still just looking at each other and he just takes off his mask and is like “ok yeah it’s me” and im like “weird, that out of every person i could get, it was you, huh?” but like flirty and he just comes up behind me and presses into me and is like “i don’t think that’s weird at all. i think it was pretty carefully thought out” and i decide to tease him being like “i kinda wanted lee know ngl” and he turns me around and we start making out.

this dream was just like strange af bc like where did you come from vigilante thoughts. i was into batman like in high school but not too much anymore. and ofc skz had to just be there. and the fact that it was like kinda pervy posesssive bangchan who orchestrated that we were paired together bc i usually love fluffy cute chan (this is my first dream where chan appears alone!) i am conflicted, nonetheless always love a skz dream.

ily pookie have a great day🫶🏻 i’ve never said this but sorry for the long asks😩

-🐈‍⬛

I agree!!!!! They’re huge fans of rap music and Billy Strings (who I just discovered and have taken a considerable liking to because of them) but they totally respect the kpop sphere as a whole and they follow Felix very closely to fangirl alongside me 🥹 they are so so precious to me I love them

Yes please update!! Sending all my love to both kitties (and praying for miss calico 😢) it’s so hard when you’re just waiting on news regarding cats so I know exactly the emotional state you’re in right now, sending all my love to all of them AND you! And thank you again for taking such good care of them 🥹🫶

HAKDPFPDKSLEKRKRK HELLO???? THAT SOUNDS SO HOT???? First of all we need to get you in a skz music video ASAP…….. also perv!Chan ?????!!::!:!:!!:3!:!/? MY BRAIN IS SO FUZZY…… I need to write more perv skz but somehow I’ve never considered perv, or like VERY heavily into you Chan and I am SO here for it. Isn’t it so weird when you dream of another member and you wake up like ⁉️⁉️😭 I once had a dream about pink haired Seonghwa from Ateez and I have never been the same…. Though most of my skz dreams are just Jisung (clap if you’re surprised!) and I’m so here for it. He’s a great kisser in my dreams if you guys are wondering

MY DREAM….. was fucking awful last night LMAO I had a dream that I was in a library and I was in one of those quiet rooms studying and all of a sudden Jeongin comes in fucking COVERED in blood (he was wearing that white button down outfit from his Dazed cover) and he just looks at me and tells me that if I don’t include a library in my first book about him I’m going to die??? HELLO???????? I didn’t even want to post anything about it here because I was so fucking weirded out and I don’t even have ideas for his book yet but yall can trust it will include a library somewhere in there I guess 🤕😵‍💫 I’ve been having a lot of dreams about my writing and some of them spark inspo but I guess some are also just straight up threats LMAO

ANYWAYS…… I hope you’re doing well my angel!!! Have the best week and take care of yourself! Fingers crossed for the kitties and that you get to make out with Chan sometime soon XOXOXO 💕🩷💓🫶👼

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

I can't believe it's been a week without Little Man... When he first came home he was so happy and excited. He would play for two to three hours straight. He loved his food time but then he would go back to playing, with naps in between before his regular nighttime sleep.

Seeing him decline from that to never playing, always starving and wanting food because of his illness (the poor thing had no fat at all to keep him warm by the end...) and otherwise just sleeping really hurt. It hurt even more to see him after a deworming process want to play. He was attentive and alert, and when he heard his toys he would look with wide eyes like he wanted to play, but he was in too much pain to be able to.

During the deworming we had to keep him separated from my other cat, so he was in another room and we visited him throughout the day (and night) repeatedly and spent long periods of time with him. At night that room would get a bit cold because of its size, and sometimes I'd go in there and it was cold and I was worried he was also feeling cold... but recently I realized he really probably was because he had no fat to retain his body heat. I'm so glad I put a little blanket over him on his bed and tried my best to keep him warm. I would keep my door open so the heat could get out and keep coming back on or just stay on so it would heat up the room he was in.

His real name was Cumulus because my mom named him after that type of cloud, but I started to call him Little Man and it stuck. He knew that was what I called him, too! He started to respond after a little while!

By the end he could barely eat or even meow because it hurt to move his mouth. His jaw must have been deteriorating, and we were told his gums looked terrible. When he did eat, he could only eat wet food and even that was hard. We would hear a hard crunching sound when he ate wet food, so I'm pretty certain something was very wrong with his jaw. That was why he was always so hungry at the end - he couldn't eat enough to sustain himself.

We only had him for two months but he was so happy, sweet and precious before that illness really started to kick in. It's hard losing a cat, but it's even harder losing a five month old kitten who had so many years of life left to live. He was so sweet and playful that I can't believe how fast his illness destroyed his body from the inside out. He was bright and loving and he didn't deserve what happened to him.

Frankly, I do put some blame on the guy who sold him to us. He claims to be a rescue operation and that's fine, but he knew the mother was sick and didn't make it, yet he didn't think to check for dangerous illnesses on this cat or his sister who was adopted at the same exact day and time as he was? When we adopted him, we've now realized he was showing at least three signs of his illness already (breathing speed, heat/temperature and wobbly eyes that he often couldn't keep still). He had other issues so we didn't know what was wrong until the day the vet did an ultrasound and said he wasn't going to make it to a year old even with medication.

Imo the guy who runs that business should know the signs of illness in a cat. If you work in that profession you should know what to look out for - especially if the mother was sick before giving birth. As the shelter, it's his responsibility to know the signs and take care of health issues before adopting out. His negligence and lack of knowledge/awareness cost my family a lot of heartache and many vet bills of us just trying to find the problem. If you're working in a field with animals and adopting them out to others as a business, for the love of fuck, know all the details involved in your profession. I understand he rescues cats from kill shelters which is wonderful, but he takes in sick cats as well but then somehow doesn't notice the signs of them or their offspring being ill? It makes me think he didn't interact with them enough to notice, so again - negligence. If anyone knew what the kitten had, they might have been able to save him by medicating him before any damage could truly be done to him. Unfortunately the medication is not yet legal and is essentially on the black market and can cost thousands of dollars that we couldn't afford, but god I would've started a fundraiser to save his life if we had known. This sweetheart did not deserve the pain and suffering he went through.

I'm sad and I'm angry at this man's lack of awareness. If you're going to adopt out cats, know that you're adopting out a sick cat or potentially sick cat so you can inform and warn the adopters. "I never would've sold you a sick cat if I had known" isn't going to cut it. You should know if that's your business. That knowledge could've saved this kitten's life, or even just helped him to get on medicine to make his last months painless.

I miss you, Little Man. I love you so much. I hope we gave you the best life you could've possibly had in the time that you had. I hope all the craziness and play and love was just how you would've always lived your life. You were too sweet and you should've never had to be taken from us that young.

[saanphoenix]

If anyone's been following me for an extended period of time, then you know I had a lot of cats. What started as a kitten rescued from a culvert down at Wal-Mart wound up becoming a small horde of about nine adults and teens due to, "If I stick the females in the bathroom when they are in heat, they can't get pregnant," being a stupid plan of someone who didn't know there was a low-cost clinic in my backyard for spaying and neutering and also taking in another kitten from a coworker that got knocked up at 4 months which I didn't even know could happen at the time.

Now, however, I have no cats to my name, a process of rehoming and surrendering them all to family members, and a local brand-new rescue that took a total of 4.5 months.

The reason I had to get rid of them was because my landlord illegally entered my house--didn't give 24-hour notice--and thought the smell of cat boxes I hadn't been able to scoop the night before was the permanent smell of the house. He also claimed he didn't even know I had cats, even though I had cats when he came to help install the new water heater, looked dead at one, and asked, "Is that cat supposed to be outside?" when said cat was poking his head out of the door they left wide open.

I repeat: This man knew I had cats. He had seen them. He had existed in my house previously and hadn't freaked the fuck out about, "~The smell. It permeates~ D:" But nah. The one day I gotta open after closing and let the boxes go for 8 hours is the day we illegally enter and assume the worst and give the tenant two whole goddamn weeks to "get rid of them." During Thanksgiving.

🙂

He also said that my dog, Clyde, would make his house insurance void if they knew what kind of dog he was, "But I'm not going to say anything because I know Clyde is a good boy." ... So, you're worried about the smell but not the potential loss of house insurance. Sure.

Anyhoo, the 4.5 month rehoming process included building an outdoor enclosure onto my shed that cost a small fortune. And I do mean small, but like, a noticeable chunk from my funds. And with it being winter, it took about two weeks to fully complete, so the lady helping me didn't freeze to death while making it.

Here they were with my dog. Inside the shed was their food and cat tree and plenty of spaces to lay around on and curl up under. Wasn't the Best set-up, but it was the best I could do until I could get them into the rescue.

Through the process of working with the rescue, I was able to Learn Some Things. I got shots and neuterings way fucking cheaper than the previous vet I was using that made me think I would be spending an arm and a leg every time I chopped the balls off a cat. Two of my kitties were sent to Kansas City, MO where one got adopted the same night they arrived and the other was adopted about a week later.

This was they. They even left Johnny's collar on him that he was surrendered with, which I thought was nice. Roche, the tabby, was the one adopted immediately. Probably because of hims derpy face.

Two of my girls went to fosters, rather than reside in the rescue's facility, and, last I checked, one was still up for adoption on PetFinder with a lovely little essay written about her using her name, Zinnia, for inspiration.

The rest appear to be in the rescue, which operates very similarly to a cat café. They have rooms set up with people-furniture and cat-furniture that allows the kitties to roam around instead of be in cages, and people can come in and just hang with the cats they might wanna adopt. There's no real need for appointments to come hang with the cats, but surrenders are by appointment only.

Despite all the stress, the mental breakdowns, and the seething rage this little Moment in my life has caused, I actually like that it forced me to learn how rescue work actually works. And I'm still working with the rescue to get the colony of cats that visit my porch TNR'd so the population will be better under control.

Squeaky, the orange tomcat that picks a fight with God and everybody, has been neutered, de-wormed, given flea treatment. But there's still Mama Cat--who is pregnant...again--her Teenaged Son and her Baby. I think Squeaky has chased off Teenaged Son the past coupla days, so he's probably going to be harder to catch, but....

Baby. Baby will be easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. He loves Clyde and always comes running to rub up against him whenever I let him out.

...And, yes, I need to replace that screen. Don't worry about it. That'll be far easier to handle than the fucking cat enclosure. Also, once we find a decent enough truck to pull the trailer we can borrow, my ex-step-mother will be taking said enclosure to put up for her own cats.

[bakalterasia]

So, I’ve gotten two cockatiels about three weeks ago.

It was not planned on my part. They were a gift, something that I’ve vocalised thaf I would like in the distant future. Came home to two. Never had bords to be solely my responsibility before and my week was very hard. Uni was killing me, my personal life was killing me, I was sick… but there they were. Two lives, depending on me to step up.

I’m prefacing this. I think myself a shit bird-mom.

Their cage was too small, so I’ve ordered a bigger one. I’ve grumbled when I was doing so. I don’t have a job, all my savings were scraps I managed to put away. I was saving up for a gaming pc, something I’ve wanted since I was twelve. I told myself, “you can get money again, this is their home.”

I grumbled still. I didn’t want these birds but I did but I DIDN’T— I looked around the city, counting pennies and looking at shops to see if I can spare some money. I couldn’t find one big enough without reaching lower in my pocket. I was angry. I grumbled and came home and I’ve ordered that cage online and felt like shit, looking at them every day in that small cage until the bigger one arrived. I’ve put it together myself. I’ve never done anything like that. I was scared I would fuck it up and wouldn’t be able to afford another one. The legs didn’t want to fit and I wanted to cry so I called my fiance and laughed instead. He listened to me put it together. Ramble about shit to alleviate my anxiety. “Do you hear them, love? They are chirping so loud. They want their new home.” The birds did not know what I was doing. Only I knew and I hoped it would be enough.

Then they’ve gotten a new home. It was so empty. Depressing to even look at it. “We need more stuff for you.” I went and spent again, buying them several toys and new feeders, better food, treats, even some yellow foxtail millet to get friendly with them. They don’t like them. At all. Two weeks and they’ve never even looked at them. So little time, you say. Yet so long for me. I’m ancient compared to them, but I’m impatient. “Be my friend” I’ve begged, whispering as I held out the treat and watched them nibble on it yet flinch away when I moved a little. “Please, be my friend. Love me.”

I let them out in the room.

It’s a small room but it’s big for them and I’ve thought let them just stretch their wings. They’ve hurt their little noses. I’ve cursed at myself and cowered all the windows. “It’s dangerous out there” I’ve said as if they would understand. To them, I was the danger. Giant and stressed and locked together with them in this little room. They eventually went back into the cage to eat and sleep. I closed the door and cried. “I’ve just wanted to help you. Why can’t I do this right, I just wanted to give you something good.”

I’ve talked to a friend who has experience. Watched videos with tips, realized how many time I’ve fucked up and cried again. “You deserve so much better”. I whisper at them every night before going to sleep. “You could’ve had so much better than me.”

I was not angry anymore. I didn’t care about the money anymore. I only cared when I thought I could make their life better. It was all meaningless when I realized that I was probably hurting them. Scaring them. The guilt… it so tight in my stomach I can’t even look at them.

And then they’ve gotten sick. They were sitting low on the branches, quiet and sleepy. Digestive problems. I’m a med student but I don’t understand birds. I sat on my bed, looking at them and with my phone in hand ready to call the vet. I was scared again. Selfish again. “I’ll have to tell them how I fucked up. This is my fault. I’ve did everything wrong and now I have to confess it to the doctor and ask for help.” I was so ashamed of doing this all wrong. My hands were shaking when I called them.

The first vet talked to me for about two minutes. They were nice, but off. I’ve told them everything and they reassured me, told me that they must be stressed because of the new environment. Told me tips I’ve already started and told me they cannot take them because they might get too scared and we would do more harm than good. I’ve put down the phone. “I didn’t fuck up so bad, right? The vet said I’ve did good.” It felt liberating. It felt like comfort.

I was fine. My birds were not. I’ve looked at them, their little sick bodies, puffed up low in the cage, blinking slowly in broad daylight. It was not fine. Nothing was fine. I’ve called another vet. This one called me in, gave me medicine and explained to me how to administer it. They were nice to me, but this was not about me and they knew. They gave me meds. My birds got better in three days.

They are before the window now. I’ve dragged their cage to the light and warmth to give them something good. One of them looked at the trees outside and cried. So shrill and so insistent.

They want the outside. Away from the monster in the room. They want to go and be free like the rest of the birds who had been born free, raised free. Free from a prison they must despise.

Only I see the horrors on the other side of the glass. The cold, the weather, the lack of food, the predators.

How much they must hate me! I’m the one who stands between them and what they want. I’m the omnipotent, cold being who says “No. you will stay in my cage and I will protect you. I love you.”

My love is cold to them. Chains to them.

I look at them and I think.

“Whose cage am I sitting in?”

[rememberingmybestfriend]

PB&Js & Ambien

A year ago today I had my last Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich. You should know that I LOVE PB&Js! Even as an adult I had one for lunch each day along with a protein shake. I remember reading about different athletes doing the exact same thing and thinking, “They stole that from me!”

I am pretty weird about PB&Js, because as I like to shout from the mountain top, I was only one of like six people in the world who made them correctly!

You spread the peanut butter (Skippy or Jif) on a slice of bread. Then you wipe off the knife, scoop out some Jelly (Welchs grape) on top of the peanut butter and cut it in half. 

How can the entire planet be wrong?!?  They put peanut butter on one slice of bread and jelly on the other slice…like a terrorist??

My kids, coworkers, friends and strangers would all mock me, but I am a man of principle. I’ve always stood up for what’s right, even in the face of adversity.

Adversity is why I no longer eat PB&Js. Here’s why…

For 10 years, every day at lunch, I would share the last piece of PB&J with Baxter, my constant companion for 16 years.

Baxter gave no fucks. He didn’t care about ANYTHING in the world, other than being next to me. 

I remember when I first started dating after my divorce. If someone came over to watch TV with me, Baxter would get on top of the couch and walk across the cushions and fall in-between us. I laughed my ass off every single time, though it usually wasn’t appreciated my dates. 

When I would travel, whoever was taking care of Baxter would send me pictures of him staring at the door or out the window, waiting for my return. I know people thought it was cute, but it tore me up.  

Baxter was with me in the darkest period of my life and he was with me when I finally realized my dream of living in San Diego. We had a ton of fun, going to dog beaches and walking in the most beautiful weather in the world. 

I remember a “Low Rider” event where it was all dachshunds, corgis and bassetts (Baxter was a dachshund/corgi mix). The last Corgi Beach Day we went to there were over 900 corgis on the beach. 900!!! It was nuts and it was heaven!

During our time in San Diego I met another dog person, Jillian, who ultimately became my wife (she actually laughed at Baxter’s couch trick). She had two dogs of her own. There was Pearl the puggle and Ozzie Waldo the Shih Tzu. All three of our dogs were over 10 years old. 

In 2019, life brought me back to Tulsa. Along with Baxter, Jillian, Pearl and Ozzie Waldo. Shortly after moving back, Baxter got sick. Several vet visits later it was discovered he had cancer in his spleen and one of his adrenal glands. I took him to OSU Vet Surgery Center for a pre-surgical check and said I wanted to wait two weeks for the surgery so I would have some extra time with him in case anything went wrong. They said I had two days…..I didn’t even have 24 hours.

That night, Baxter’s tumor burst and I rushed him to the ER in Tulsa. This was at the beginning of Covid, so I couldn’t go in with him. I handed his limp body to a tech and went home and waited for the eventual call.

Around 6:00 am the next morning, I realized…the call never came. I went and picked him up and raced back to Stillwater where he had emergency surgery. Again I came home and waited for the call. Later that afternoon the phone rang and was told the surgery was a success and he could come home in a couple days. This is a picture of us after I picked him up...

Baxter never needed chemo, but I had him checked out every 90 days like clockwork. A year later, his step brother Ozzie Waldo got prostate cancer. Ozzie was a fighter and went through a dozen radiation treatments in Dallas and became cancer free.

A few months later Jillian found blood outside of our new home and we assumed it was from Ozzie peeing. We made plans to take him back to the cancer doctor. Later that night Baxter started bleeding from his nose. It wasn’t Ozzie’s cancer that had returned, it was Baxter getting a new form. Nasal cancer.

Baxter and I made our own trips to Dallas for radiation treatments. Again during Covid, so I could never enter the doggie hospital. I remember the night after his first treatment he bled all over the hotel room. It looked like a crime scene. I cleaned up as best I could and left a huge tip for the maids.

Baxter eventually beat that cancer too, but damn it was long and brutal. It’s normal for dogs to still have bloody noses and he had his share. It’s the most terrifying thing because there's a LOT OF BLOOD from those damaged arteries in his nose.

After Baxter turned 14, his back legs started giving out. He went to a lot of acupuncture and laser appointments that would slow the progress, but he was half dachshund and back issues are part of their life as they get older.

I was so fortunate to work from home the last 10 years of his life.  I moved around a lot throughout the house each day. I’d sit at my desk where Baxter had a bed right next to me. During work Zoom calls, coworkers as well as customers would ask, “How’s our boy doing?” 

If I got up to get a drink, Baxter followed. If I got up to use the bathroom, Baxter tagged along. I have a home gym and he thought he had to follow me on every exercise.

As Baxter’s legs started getting worse he would STILL follow me everywhere. I would plead with him, saying “I’ll be right back!” but he had to be next to me, even if he had to drag his beat up old body with just two legs.

Ozzie’s cancer tragically did return in December of 2022, and we said goodbye to him on the last day of the year. 

Two and a half months later, a couple days after Baxter turned 16, I had another scan done. No cancer, but they found a clot in his artery. I did some research (I know too damn much about dog diseases) and it was not good. 

If the clot broke free it would be a horrible death. They gave him some blood thinner, but that wasn’t helpful with the bleeding that would still come from his damaged nasal arteries. 

The next morning I could tell he wasn’t feeling well and I said, “Fuck it, I’ll cancel my plans and just hang with him in the living room all day.”  Later he started bleeding so much. Our living room was covered in blood. I realized it was getting close. 

I had promised him after that last vet trip that he would never have to go to a clinic again. I called a service that helps people say goodbye to their pets at home, and set up a time for the following Wednesday. Once again, time had other plans. 

By noon I knew we weren’t going to make it to Wednesday. I called a vet close to our house and made an appointment for later that afternoon. 

I laid next to Baxter and told him all the things we did together over the years and how much I loved him. We also split a whole PB&J sandwich. Later that afternoon I said goodbye.

I am so grateful for those 16 years. I am grateful that I had the ability to keep him around longer than most. I think about him every single day. 

Later on, at the end of 2023 my doctor kicked me off of Ambien after almost 20 years. Pro Tip: Never tell your doctor the truth.

I bring up this seemingly irrelevant fact because with Ambien….you don’t dream. I didn’t give a crap about dreaming, I just needed to sleep. 

Eventually, after multiple attempts, I got a new prescription that allows me to get 8 hours of sleep….along with a lot of dreams.

One night, Baxter came to visit. I knew he wasn’t real but was overjoyed to see my boy one more time. I am sure he wouldn’t care if I still have PB&J sandwiches but it was “our thing” and I don’t want to share those memories. 

[x-rds]

[Lio] Sorry just trauma rambling

(Significant animal death and traumatic grief mentions)

I think - the one thing. The one thing that really, truly drove the knife in, is that - my ex had the audacity to ask me to help them pay for an urn, which I did, willingly, because I cared, and because I felt I owed it to him after failing to save him. And yet, despite the vet promising to give them two paw impressions so that we both had something, anything to hold on to, I never, ever saw that.

It feels stupid and petty. A baby isn’t a print on paper. A baby isn’t an urn. He isn’t any physical item any one person can own. But - it’s just - the disrespect. The lack of being given even a shred of chance of closure. The lack of comfort I was given, the lack of care.

I can’t blame them entirely. They bought me food when I was laying despondent and alone in their bed and I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything because it felt wrong for me to eat when he couldn’t anymore. I would not have eaten if they hadn’t done that, at least not yet, I felt so sick mentally and physically, I felt like my lips would decay and fall off from the fact I tried to resuscitate him and failed. I thought I was never going to stop coughing up bile. They were kind enough to get me to eat.

They were kind enough to bring me to their therapist with them. (Although their therapist was fucking useless and just told me they knew ‘he would have been a beautiful cat’ as if that was helpful at fucking all.)

But it ended there. They didn’t comfort me at all as we surrendered his body to the vet. They didn’t comfort me at all when they came home from their family trip, back to their fucking house where I was, alone, where they left me with a goddamn surprise hospice job. And they didn’t know, I can’t blame them for that, they had no way of knowing, but the fact is still that I had to watch a helpless baby creature, that I cared for and loved so much too, that they left me in charge of, that I didn’t sleep for four days watching him every single night and trying to feed him and trying to help him and paying for vet visits and for delivery services to get tools to help him and begging my very kind friend to drive me places to try to help him - crashing and dying in my arms. And they ignored me. They barely said a word to comfort me. I know he was their baby too and they were dealing with other things but he died in MY arms after I didn’t sleep for DAYS and they asked me for MONEY for his URN to keep at THEIR HOUSE and I have NOTHING but a few pictures I cannot bring myself to look at to remember him by. And they gave me almost nothing.

Almost Everything else about this experience that could have possibly been traumatizing was. It was a nightmare. It was hell. My one kind friend was the singular saving grace and everyone else involved was an asshole at best, vets I called in a panic included. It even went so far as to trigger my clairvoyance psychosis because I had a hunch before we got him that it might be too early and something might happen to him and when it did my brain decided every ‘vision’ I had about anyone near me getting sick or dying was certainly true. I begged people not to leave the house. I begged my mom not to get another cat at her house. I cried myself to sleep thinking my uncle was dead because I had a dream he’d been killed when he went shopping.

I know we both suffered I know I know I know. But they got all those little things meant to help soothe their loss and let them move on and I got nothing but horrific nightmares and a fucking emergency vet bill and a paypal request for seventy dollars to buy my fucking ex a little statue for their house to remember the innocent creature I ran myself ragged to save wnd failed when they weren’t even there

I try to remind myself, all the time, that in the end the person he knew longest in his life was me. That there is no little cat toy or urn or paper with paw prints on it that means more to his sad story than me. I alone did everything I had the power to do to save him and I alone hold the memory of his struggling and his end, and I alone had the opportunity and love in me to tear myself apart to try to save him.

But fuck. Man. Would it have hurt anyone if my grief got any sort of consideration? At all?

I didn’t believe I could move on at all, for a week after it happened. I believed I would be stricken with the gaping wound of pain forever. None of my friends, well meaning as they were, were getting through to me - they hadn’t seen it. They weren’t there. They couldn’t judge my sins.

In the end it was Andy who got through to me. He told me: In that moment I was doing everything to try to be a healer. And sometimes, healers lose - but it all would be far worse if they never tried.

So I guess the moral here is thank god for my fucking headmates being there when the people who claim they care about you end up not doing that at all.

[chicken2potato]

6/29/23

Chunks, Mk’s cat, was rubbing his face on my phone wanting to be pet. Out of habit I almost said “Hi Mr. Bean”... I really miss him... I caught myself at the last second.

A part of me wants to be your friend. Forget everything. Just so I can laugh with you again and see the cats again. 

But I need to remind myself of what happened. How you lead me on so many times. How a real friend wouldn’t do that. 

Maybe in another life we could have been friends. Maybe in another life... none of this would have ever happened... 

I miss you. But I’m still so mad at you... It’s hard for both of these to be existing at the same time... Because then I get mad at myself for missing you. But I do. I know I said I wouldn’t. I know I said I wouldn’t give you another thought... But the thing is, you’re always on my mind. Was I too harsh? 

Perhaps not. You really did hurt me. So fucking much. But that doesn’t change the fact that I miss the good times. I think it’s possible to simultaneously miss you and hate myself for it.

I got a notification a few days ago that my Tumblr is five years old. When I first created it, I used to write on it about you. And then I would look up your old username in hopes that maybe you wrote to me, too. Even now, I find myself looking, checking, to see if there’s anything. But why would there be?

I have a job interview tomorrow. My August is filling up fast with weddings, baby showers, bridal showers, trips, and so much more. I can’t afford it on this one income. I need something else. 

I don’t really want to work two jobs. But I want to be there in Alabama and North Carolina for my friends. I want to see them. I want to be there for them. I want to help Cheri and Mk. Mk still hasn’t gotten her disability for her back surgery. She’s been without income for almost a month and half now. Anthony was back to work. But then he went and got a second opinion and found out that his arm is still broken, even though Ant was cleared to go back. So he’s out of work now and waiting on disability, too.

I want to help them. I want to secretly put money in their mailbox and help them pay rent. I want to help them pay groceries and pay their vet bills. I want to be there for Mk because she’s been there for me through so much. Whether it was guy problems or girl problems or family problems or telling me what I needed to hear in the moment, or picking me up when my car died on the side of the highway and still driving me around so I could do the things I needed to, or helping me get through a break up, or helping me financially... She’s quite literally has been like a sister to me. I know I could never truly repay her for everything that she has done for me, but I want to try. I want to give her some kind of peace of mind throughout this terrible situation. 

She’s one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met. She’s sent me money before without ever asking for a penny back. She’s always had my back. She’s always loved me, whether I was here in Maine, or living in Kentucky, she was there. 

I’ve had so many people walk out on me. She never has once. I want to get a second job, not just because August is crazy busy and I won’t be able to afford it, but also because I want her to be able to afford the basic things she needs in life right now. 

Her dad literally gave her money to fill her gas tank up so she could go to the gym this morning. Afterward, we went to Subway and before we went in, Ant and her were talking about how they were going to pay for it. She’s the kindest person ever. She didn’t deserve to be in that car accident. She didn’t deserve to be out of work since January. She deserves so much more and I want to be able to help her. 

My plan is to work the morning shift at one job, the night shift at another job (which I just got promoted for, so I will be getting a nice pay raise; I’ve heard it was like $1.60 more an hour), and perhaps dog sitting for my uncle over the weekend. 

I’m going to be exhausted. But it’ll be so much better than sitting here on my days off, trying to do fun things with her, trying to go try new restaurants like we always do and seeing and hearing her talk about being able to pay for it.

I know life isn’t just about money. I get that. I try my best to be there for here in other ways, too. 

I went to go see her the day after she had back surgery. She was up in Bangor, and it was an hour away from my place. At the time I was just starting a new job after not having one for a month and a half, and I still had no money. She doesn’t know it, but I spent my last $8 to fill my tank up just enough to go see her. I didn’t want her to be alone on the day after. Sure, Ant was up there, and he was going to go see her. But I wanted to be there for her as her friend. I wanted her to know that no matter what I’m always there for her. She’s my best friend. I would do it over again. Even if it meant I didn’t have money for food. Just to be there... I know it must have meant a lot to her.

I want to be there for her now, too. 

And another thing... My brother has a tendency to get drunk and call me. He gets all sentimental and it’s a little weird. Anyone who knows my brother knows that he is not the type to show his emotions. He’s said on multiple different phone calls that he wants to help me pay off my debt. When I was without a job, I used my credit cards to pay for groceries, Soba’s cat food (which is $80...wtf), and gas to get to interviews. But no one would hire me. They always said, “We’ll get back to you.” Then I didn’t have money to pay off my credit cards. But I still needed to use them to get gas and eat. 

My credit score tanked, and I owe a bit on my credit cards. Not a whole lot. I think like just over $2000. I also owe my landlord $1200. That’s another reason I need a second job. I want to be out of debt. I hate having money in my bank account knowing that it’s not really mine because I owe money to others. I want financial freedom. My brother told me that once he becomes a journeyman and starts making money being an electrician, he’ll send me however much I need to pay it all off, and that he doesn’t expect anything in return. I already owe him $300 because he helped pay part of my rent earlier this year... 

My mother used to always hold things over my head. She would do something, and you would think that it was very sweet, but then a week would go by, and she would shove it back in your face if you got into an argument. That taught me to never rely on anyone. And, if for some crappy reason, I did need someone’s help, I always paid them back or did something for them in return. My relationship with my mother was very much like a constant business transaction. Now, I hate asking for help. I hate asking for money. You want to give me money? Okay, but what can I clean to work for it? Can I babysit? Can I do something for you so you won’t hold it over my head later on?

I don’t want my brother to give me three grand in money. I don’t think he would hold it over my head, he said that he wouldn’t. But for the rest of my life, I would know that he helped me out tremendously and I never repaid him. I can’t do that. I can’t be needy. I can’t need help. I need to just put my ass into gear and work jobs and get the money I need. From me, myself, and I. 

I’ve always been that way. I think ever since I was young. Mostly from my mom holding things over my head, but also because she was never there. She worked crazy ass hours. If I wanted to do something or needed something, I did it myself. 

One time in college I had no money. Well, actually on multiple occasions, but this one time in particular it was really bad. We had laundry on campus; a dollar fifty for wash and a dollar fifty for dry. I had no money. My bank account was in the negative. I desperately needed to do laundry. Like, no clean clothes, taking out ones that don’t smell bad, need to do laundry. My friends wanted to help. But I wasn’t going to rely on them for something as simple as laundry. So, I washed all my clothes in the bathtub and hung them up to dry. I then blow-dried them and they were clean. I did the math, and it took about two days for them to be completely dried unless I just sat there for forever with the blow-dryer. I did that for almost two weeks before I finally got my check from my job. (I hate bi-weekly jobs.) 

I’ve always done what I needed to do to get money. To make things work. I once baked cookies and sold them on campus and paid over half of my $710 room and board. It was mostly in quarters and on Cash App, which was kind of embarrassing, but I was also proud of myself that I didn’t have to ask anyone to lend me over three hundred dollars. 

Maybe this makes me proud. Maybe I think I’m above everyone else, but I don’t believe that to be the case. I think that just with not having anyone in my childhood, and those who were there hanging things over my head, made me this way. Which I can be happy in one way, because it has made me strong and resilient. But sometimes I wouldn’t mind asking for help without feeling like a complete failure. 

But maybe that’s good. Because maybe if I didn’t have the shitty things from my childhood I would have turned into a spoiled moocher. 

I could ask the “what if” questions all night long about how I would have turned out if things were different. But things aren’t different. This is how things are. Mk got into a terrible accident. She can’t afford bills. I didn’t have a job for almost two months. I’m trying to catch up on my bills. Rowan was a jerk and yet, I still miss him. This is life. This is how it is. I can’t mope around and feel sorry for myself. Then I would be wasting this life. But I also know that I can’t work three jobs for the rest of my life, because I would also be wasting my life. 

Life is about balance. The good and the bad. The hard and the easy. Sometimes we get a little bit of one or the other. Or so it seems. But that doesn’t mean that the other isn’t present. 

For example, Rowan. There was good and bad. And the ending was really shitty and bad. But there’s still good. I had the privilege of meeting his wonderful cats. (Especially Bean, who may or may not have been my favorite.) I learned how to walk away from someone who wasn’t healthy for me. I learned how to deal with it without it ripping me apart. I’m like ninety percent sure I have BPD. I’m not diagnosed but I have a lot of the symptoms and I relate to the people that have it. I have the early childhood trauma to cause BPD. I’m just too poor to go to a therapist and get properly diagnosed. With the BPD, I tend to get overly emotionally attached to someone, and then when they leave, it’s like my entire world is falling apart. It happened when things ended with John and I. I quite literally felt like I didn’t know what to do and that everything sucked and nothing was worth it anymore. Just because of a guy I didn’t even date and hadn’t even known for a year yet. Looking back, I know it was way over exaggerative, but that’s how I get sometimes. My emotions are uncontrollable sometimes. I think it’s partly to do with the potential BPD and the PCOS.

I didn’t do that with Rowan. I don’t know if that was because I knew deep down in the beginning that things weren’t going to work out, or if I’m actually making some sort of progress. I’d like to think it’s the latter. I’d like to think I’m becoming more self-aware of my problems, what triggers them, and how to solve the issue. Would this be easier with a therapist? Perhaps. But I’m like three grand in the hole right now. Therapy is out of the question. That’s part of the reason I have this Tumblr. It allows me to let my thoughts escape out and be free. It’s my private little bubble. Is it public? Duh. But no one knows me on here. No one knows who Mk is or Rowan. No one knows who I am or what I do. I could be a 40 year old creepy guy making this all up. Or I could be a 13 year old girl who is creating a life to escape her reality. No one really knows. 

I like having this little journal. My mother used to read all the journals I wrote in when I was younger. All of them. Everything. Even the things that I wrote about after I was 18, so she couldn’t use the whole “I’m worried about my young daughter.” I know I would have still been considered young, but I’d still be considered an adult and it was wrong. Either way, I think that it was wrong. I never talked to her because she was never there. And when she was there, she was either wrapped up in her cellphone or condescending me for the very thoughts I would have. Why would I want to tell her anything? 

I like that no one personal to me knows about this. One person does. But I don’t really think they read these anymore. And even if they did, I don’t really care. 

I like having a place to freely express myself. It’s nice to be able to read what used to go on in my head. Sometimes my head even clears up by then end of an entry and I can tell within my writing that I’m feeling better. I burned all my old journals. That way my mother could never read the again. Never use them against me again. I like that no one can use this against me, because no one knows about it. It’s nice hiding behind a username. Honestly, though, I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to find, if anyone in my personal life paid attention, they would find this. But I don’t think that they care that much. Which is totally fine with me. 

I ought to go to bed. I have that interview in the morning and I’m kind of nervous that I’m going to accidentally sleep through it. I need another job. My cat might have some medical issues, too. Which is going to cost in vet bills and possibly in more medication for her. There’s a potential that the medicine she is on for her skin condition could lead her to diabetes and/or organ failure. So, the vet wants to talk about alternatives. Which is going to be an expensive vet visit and maybe even more expensive things for her. Did I mention that her cat food was $80? For an 8lb bag. It’s ridiculous. Also, my car is shitting the bed. It leaks oil and coolant, hardly starts most of the time, and died on me going down the highway about a month ago. And I do not have the credit to go buy another vehicle nor do I have the savings to buy a cash car. I’m screwed. I need money. I need another job. So, I have to make sure that I wake up for this interview. 

Life is weird. Life is complicated and messy. Life is hard sometimes. But it’s also very nice and beautiful and full of amazing friends and family and people who become your family. Also, cats. I love my cat. I wouldn’t trade her for anything. I’m so thankful I adopted her. 

[unluckyhoneybee]

I did a thing (Marcus Armstrong)

You do something Marcus maybe won´t be happy about. Fluff.

Note: based on this video, minute 1:08. Pure domestic fluff.

Gif credits

I opened the door slowly. "Babe?" I received no answer, so I got inside. I was super nervous. I had done something and Marcus would get angry at me for it. But I had to.

It was raining a lot. There were thunders and lightning. The weather had been awful the whole day and when I was coming back home, I heard a little cry coming from a trash can. Right behind it, I found a little bundle of fur.

And now I had the tiniest dog inside my sweater and a bag with a bunch of things I bought at the vet in my hand.

Suddenly, the door opened. I froze. I wasn´t ready. I had a whole plan to tell him.

"Hey, did you just arrive? I could have picked you" Marcus came to me and kissed my forehead, then my lips. And when he went to hug me, I shouted "Stop!" "What?"

He looked at me. He seemed confused.

"Em... You can´t hug me. I think I´m ill" "I just kissed you"

Well, fuck.

"Yes. You did"

"YN, babe. Are you OK? You are a bit pale"

"I did a thing. And you will get angry at me. But I couldn´t leave him there because it´s raining a lot. And... I know we talked about this and I said I would wait and I respect you, really. I understand you don´t like them. But it´s so tiny and... and..."

"You are rambling, YN." He said taking my face with his hands. "What is going on"

A little cry was heard from inside my sweater.

We both looked down. The dog was completely hidden.

"Did your tits just howl?" He said frowning.

"Em..."

He hooked a finger in the collar of my sweater and peered inside. He gasped and looked into my eyes.

"He is too small. The vet said he is probably just a week old."

"You found a dog in the street? And brought it home?"

"He was next to a trash can and it's pouring down."

"And you took it to the vet?"

"I was scared. I thought he may be ill because it's so cold."

He was still looking inside my clothes. The dog wasn't moving. He had been sleeping for a while now. He was probably glad for my body heat.

"I had a whole plan. I even bought a ribbon." I whispered.

He looked back at me and sighed.

"You are too cute." He kissed my nose. "Let's take him out of there and change your clothes. You will get ill."

"What?" He laughed a bit. "Well, is he going to stay in there for the whole night?"

"N...No".

I really thought he would get angry. He always said he wasn´t an animals person.

Marcus helped me open my sweater and I took it off. The dog was black with white paws. It was small and fluffy. He crouched down a bit and took a closer look. "And it's a he?" "Mhm" "And someone let him in the trash?" "Yes" "I can't believe it. How can people be so heartless?" I smiled a bit.

"I´m going to get changed and then you go, okay?"

I nodded. Once I was alone with the dog, I sat down on the sofa. I had him only for an hour and he was already my favourite thing in the world. Marcus didn´t seem angry, but I was still nervous. He was probably thinking about giving him in adoption or something. I was so lost in my thoughts, petting the little do's ears, that I didn't hear him coming. He sat next to me and looked down. "Do you want me to..." "You want to hold it?" "So you can change into something dry" "Yeah, sure"

I changed fast with shaking hands and I ran back to the living room. I found Marcus with the dog on his chest looking at him with adoring eyes and slowly caressing its forehead. My heart was beating fast.

I sat next to him. "I think he might be hungry. We gave him a bottle in the vet, but it was a while ago" "We should get him another one?" "Probably" I answered in a low voice.

We moved to the kitchen. I prepared the bottle and Marcus told me to sit on his lap. I did. I showed the bottle to the dog and he immediately started sucking on the plastic nipple.

"Oh look at you. You are so hungry, aren´t you?" I whispered and kissed his little head.

"How should we name him?" He said looking at me with bright eyes.

"What?" "Well, he needs a name, doesn´t he?"

"Can we keep it?"

"Of course. This little guy needs a family."

"You want a dog?"

"I didn´t want one half an hour ago, but then I found you soaked with a dog hidden in your clothes and... You are cute. And he is too. I can´t take it from you now. You saved him and I´m proud of you." He took the bottle from my hand so he could feed the dog.

"Really?" "Yes, babe." I felt tears in my eyes and an immense want to kiss him. So I did. I grabbed his face and gave him a hundred kisses all over it. "I love so so so much, Marcus"

"I love you too, YN" We kissed on the lips. The kiss grew more and more passionate as I dragged my hand to the back of his neck. But we were interrupted by a little howl.

We both looked down. The dog had finished the bottle so Marcus left it on the table.

"Hey, are you jealous because mum loves dad more than you?" Marcus said taking the dog to his eyes level. "You just arrived, mate. I have been here for a year."

I punched him on the shoulder and took the dog from his hands. I cuddled him on my chest. "Don´t listen to him, little one. I´ve only had him for an hour and a half but if something happened to him I would kill everyone in this room and then myself" I said paraphrasing Rosa´s quote from Brooklyn 99.

Marcus barked a loud laugh, startling the dog a bit. We were going to the sofa, where we both laid together.

"Oh, sorry buddy." He took his phone out and went to Google. "Arlo".

"What?" "Rosa´s dog was Arlo. That's his name. Do you like it?"

I smiled and looked down.

"I love it. "

Marcus hugged him and let me nest on his chest.

"So. It's official. Welcome home, little Arlo".

"I love you so much, Marcus."

"An I love you. You have such a big heart, did you know it?"

I smiled. Arlo made a ball of himself, laying on Marcus' abdomen and he laid his hand over him.

"I can't believe we have a dog now." "Well, you saved him from the rain. You gave him an opportunity. Be proud of yourself, babe"

I looked at his blue eyes. "Thank you".

[twink-between-worlds]

“we’re not broken; just bent.”

HI FUCKERS IM BACK WITH ANOTHER FIC YALL TIRED OF ME YET????

relationships: Four & Legend

I FINALLY FUCKING WROTE THE TWINKS!! and fucked vios design up again

ao3 link; x

Four isn’t broken. Four is not broken. He’s not. Four is a little…bent…but he is not broken. And he hates having to repeat it. I am not broken. Red is not broken. Green is not broken. Blue is not broken. Vio is not broken. They are not broken, and I am not broken. Everyday he repeats it in his head, like he’s convincing himself. In his Hyrule—he avoids towns. Everybody looks at him like he’s crazy. He is not crazy. He’s not. But nobody listens. His father—though he says he thinks Four is perfect how he is—even seems to prefer how he was before. Sure, Four forgets he’s one person and talks to the colours out loud, but that doesn’t make him crazy or broken. And he thought nobody would ever understand him. He thought he was the only one until he heard something on watch one night. He and Legend were on watch together, when he heard Legend talking. To himself. “Myth, please shut up, you’re giving us a headache.” It was quiet, but Four heard it. Myth? Interesting. ‘Us’? “Who’s Myth?” Legend jolted, turning to Four. Before Four could say anything else, Legend blurted out a familiar sentence. “I’m not crazy!” “I’m not…”Legend mumbled, looking away. “I’m not broken. Not crazy.” …oh. “I know,”Four mumbled softly, walking closer. “I know you’re not.” Four sat down next to Legend gently. “Trust me, I know. Do you mind if I ask something?” “...what is it?” “Have you ever…become multiple people?” A silence. A long silence, before Legend nodded. “Sixth adventure. Split into three; Green, Red and Blue. But…they used nicknames. Blue is Story, Green is Lore, Red is Myth. I can still split…I have to separate one of my necklaces though.”Then he paused, and looked at Four. “Why?” “I’m going to tell you a secret.”Four lowered his voice. “The four sword splits me into, well, four. Their names are Red, Green, Blue and Vio.” “Do you..?” “Hear them?”When Four got a nod, he nodded in return. “Yeah. All the time.” “And people…don’t call you crazy?” Four couldn’t help it and let out a loud laugh. “Oh, they think I’m insane. But I don’t let it get to me anymore.” “Oh..” “When people told me I was…broken…for talking to the colours out loud, I told them I was just bent. Because I know I’m not quite right, but I’m not broken. And neither are you.” “...Four?” “Hm?” “Can I see the colours?”Legend looked at him, head tilted. It’s only the veteran…and he’s experienced splitting before, I think it’s safe. Aw, can you guys really resist that puppy look?? …sigh. Green, whatcha think? I think it’s time we introduce ourselves to the vet “They said okay.”Four smiled, grabbing his sword. Wait. We should ask for the same in return. “Ah…yeah. Legend?” “Mhm?” “Can you split too?” “Oh..”Legend paused, thinking for a few minutes before nodding. “Yeah. Fair’s fair.” The vet untucked a necklace with three charms on it. The charms were Red, Blue and Green. Legend unhooked the charms from each other as Four lifted his blade up. In a large flash of the light, the two were replaced. Vio blinked faer eyes open, looking at the other three. “Hello.”Vio waved. “Oh! Hi! You’re…an extra colour?”Story—was that his name?—tilted his head. “Not extra!”Red piped up, swinging her arm around Vio. “So! Who’s who?” “Uh, I’m Lore.”Lore spoke up, bright green eyes barely visible under even brighter green hair. “Story!”Story smiled, his bright blue eyes shining. “..Myth.”Myth crossed his arms, dark red eyes staring at the four. “Lore’s the leader type, Story’s the childish one, I’m the fighting one.” “Oh!”Green blinked. “Well—you know our names. Um. I’m the courage and confidence! Vio’s the brains, Blue’s the brawn, Red’s the heart, in watered-down terms. We’re more…complicated…than that, but it’s the basics.” “Why’s Purple exist?” “Vio.”Vio stated bluntly, crossing faer arms. “And it’s the four sword—it wouldn’t be called that if it only split Four into three.” “Oh. I guess that makes sense.”Story shrugged. “Umm…pronoun check?” The colours weren’t…expecting to be asked. “Uh. Blue uses He/Him, Green uses They/Them, Vi uses Fae/Faer, and I use She/Her!”Red smiled. “You?” “We all use

he/they.”Myth whistled, looking over them. “Forgive me, but…how come your hair is like that?”Vio coughed, raising a brow. “I’ll answer, if you tell me why your eyes are like that.”Story spoke, looking at Vio’s eyes closely. Vio blinked in confusion. “Like what?” Story walked over, handing Vio a blue hand mirror. Vio looked in the mirror and froze up. They haven’t been split in so long, Vio didn’t know what happened. Faer eyes, a cool but bright shade of violet, had black lines in them. Not just any lines—of course not—faer eyes resemble a shattered mirror. Vio hasn’t seen faerself for so long, but fae has changed a lot. Along with faer eyes, the tips of Vio’s hair have turned black, Vio’s tongue is a dark, almost-black, purple, and fae sported a new pair of sharp canines. …maybe it’s the curse that did this, but Vio doesn’t know how to feel about this particular thing. Faer skin appears to look cracked, too.. “I’m…not sure. We—We haven’t split in so long, and I didn’t look this way before.” “Oh.”Story blinked, letting Vio stare at faerself for a minute. “Well, we just sorta…always had this hair. It’s an eyesore but dye doesn’t work—we’ve tried.” “Ah.”Vio nodded, handing the mirror back. “I see..” “You really don’t know how that happened to you?”Myth frowned, a doubtful look on his face. “I’ve…got a hunch.”Vio sighed. “Nevermind…” “So, which one of you is the best fighter?” “Vio.” “Blue.” Red and Green had spoken at the same time, and stared at each other. “No,”Red pouted. “Blue is!” “Reminder—Vio almost killed me!”Green huffed. “Vio’s terrifyingly good.” “We could fight to decide—”Blue cut off, head whipping to the side as he heard someone shift. “...we should merge,”Vio declared. “We’ll see you all another time, maybe.” The other three nodded, grabbing their charms and putting them together as the colours raised their swords together. When Legend and Four were back, Four smiled at Legend. “See?” “We’re not broken; just bent.”

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - July 3rd

Happy Sunday!! Here’s what I read this week. Be sure to leave your author a comment or kudos if you enjoy a story! 

***Marks my recent favorites 

~*~ 

Commit by tsukinofaerii

Steve refuses to be a temporary fling.

Touch and Go by FestiveFerret

In his defense, Tony thought Steve would back down. 

Avalon Protocol by avenjel

Tony Stark may be replaceable, but Iron Man—the world needs Iron Man.

That's the main reason why he creates the AVALON protocol one night, sitting alone in the Compound and nursing a bottle of whiskey and thinking, How can I be better, I have to be better. It's a protocol that prioritizes his teammates over himself, a verbal command for FRIDAY to operate the suit in the event that he is unable. It's a protocol that will finish the battle even if he's bleeding out or already dead.

Tony Understood by awesome_goddess_of_mischief

Tony Stark knew exactly what he was worth.

He just felt so empty...

Everyone knows Tony hates being touched...

He does. Right?

((Another Angsty Tony one shot, this is in no way related to the other fics in this series))

Octopus on Roller Skates by ohmyloki

It’s not like he lives his entire life with his bottom half a writhing mass of tentacles instead of legs, but about every ten days he has to spend at least eight hours soaking in a tub of water.

Par for the Course by Captain_Panda

“Your dog’s makin’ funny noises, I’m takin’ it to the vet,” Cap said gruffly, carrying Dum-E towards the door.

Fury convinces Tony to look after a loopy, post-surgery Steve Rogers.

What could possibly go wrong?

***(By Any Other) Name by Captain_Panda

When Steve went down with the Valkyrie, he thought his days with dragons were over.

Then he meets Tony Stark, who inherited Howard Stark's dragon.

As the kids say: "It's complicated."

***Roses Have Thorns (They Say) by Captain_Panda

Bonding with a dragon was easy.

One only had to look at Tony Stark and his father's former dragon, "Radon"--now "Marker"--to see the depth of their bond.

Steve Rogers, new to the 21st century but not new to the dragon-bonding scene, thought it would be easier to connect with his own.

He was very, very wrong.

***Look What (We) Made by Captain_Panda

Tony Stark grew up around dragons.

Well. Dragon. Singular. Now that there are dragons, plural, he might be in over his head.

Endowed with Howard's A+ parenting skills, how could he fail?

***For the Love of a Dragon by Captain_Panda

If it was between you and your dragon, who would you save?

Fantasy by NotEvenCloseToStraight

Steve’s hands settled cautious at his waist and Tony ran his tongue over the shell of Steve’s ear to whisper--

“You wanna get me pregnant, soldier?”

Steve’s knees buckled a little and Tony moaned softly, fit himself tighter into Steve’s body and hissed, “You wanna breed me? Like you came home from the war and I was just waiting on you? Hold me down and fill me up till I’m spilling over full?”

“Fuck-- fuck.” Steve really did almost collapse when Tony palmed over his cock, squeezing purposefully over the thick length. “Tony.”

“Is that what you want?” Tony left a sharp bite at Steve’s ear lobe, sucked a wet kiss over the soldier’s pulse and shivered when Steve’s grip tightened too hard at his hips. “Cos I can do that for you.”

“I--I--I--” Steve had never been so confused or turned on in his life. “I don’t know how that’s gonna happen but-- but-- but I’m on board.”

“Good.” Tony stroked over him once, twice more and then pulled away with a devilish smirk at his gorgeous mouth. “Stay tuned, sweetheart.”

Keep your body all on me by starkrogerrs

Steve Rogers is a wealthy CEO and Tony Stark is a struggling stripper.

Y'all already know what, or rather who, is coming.

Adorable is Not Welcome Here by EachPeachPearPlum

“But we don't have a butler,” Tony says, staring at the b- the thing in Thor’s arms, all pinkish and wriggly. “We need a butler.”

It's a ridiculous thing to say, and, he realises as soon as the words come out, reveals things about his childhood that he prefers people not to know about. Fortunately, they’re all too occupied to do more than throw a confused glance at him, and Thor doesn't even do that much.

“What we need is diapers,” Natasha says, wrinkling her nose. “He definitely needs changing.”

There's a sudden rush of not its, index fingers flying towards noses; Tony is very proud to be the first, even against Cap’s pinnacle of human perfection superspeed and Natasha’s almost-certainly-enhanced-even-if-she-won't-confirm-it-ness. Thor is last, largely because he has to juggle the noise-maker until it's cradled safely against one overly-large bicep (though, actually, Tony isn't sure if anyone’s explained this to him or if he's just mimicking yet another perplexing Midgardian custom without knowing why he’s doing it, and shit like this is why they don't let him out in public without an escort).

Merlinus by Arukou

Before facing the Hulk, Ross does Steve one decent deed. He finds him a new engineer.

The Others by Jane271

When in another universe Thanos leads a full scale invasion, Steven Rogers -with what's left of that world's heroes- goes to a different earth to warn them of the incoming invasion.

Steven could however never have guessed that his counterpart made such a mess of everything.

Centenarian by Captain_Panda

1923 is the earliest birthday Steve Rogers can remember; 1937 is the worst.

2011? That's the year his new life begins.

Through the lens of one day, over one hundred years, this is the story of Steve Rogers--the soldier, the captain, and the kid from Brooklyn. Above all else, it's about Steve--just Steve. The thirty-four-year-old centenarian.

Patch Yourself Up and Hold by navaan 

Steve knows being sheriff in a lawless town isn’t a good prospect. And there’s the blacksmith who used to be something else in his life before Timely, who thinks his future is as broken as the machine on his porch. They both have their demons. Perhaps what they need is to have each other’s backs and then some.

It's a notion as dangerous as giving a good gun to one of Fisk's gunmen.

Danger should be avoided. But does that matter in this place?

[storiesforallfandoms]

talent that runs in the family ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2128

request?: yes!

“Being rooks sister and substitute him while he recovers and slowly start to fall in love with colson”

description: she steps in to replace her brother when he is seriously injured and ends up gaining feelings for his friend

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

“Thanks so much for doing this (Y/N),” Rook said over the phone. “I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I said. “But does Colson know that I’m...y’know...not a seasoned vet?”

“You’ll do fine.”

I refrained from reminding him that he didn’t actually answer my question.

After Rook’s accident left him out of commission for some time, he came to me to ask if I’d fill in for him. I jumped at the opportunity. Rook had taught me how to drum when I was young and, much like my big brother, it became a passion of mine. How could I turn down working with one of the biggest artists of the year, even if it were just for a short while?

Well, my nerves were definitely telling me I should’ve said no as I walked into soundcheck that day.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’ll call you after the soundcheck.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous. You’re gonna do great.”

I said my goodbyes and hung up. I tried not to focus on how big the venue we were playing in was as I made my way to the otherwise empty stage. I thought I was the first person to arrive until I heard someone calling my name.

“(Y/N), up here!”

I looked up to see the guys sat in a booth in the balcony. Colson was all but leaning over the railing, waving for me to join them. I had no idea how to get up there on my own, but luckily a security guard showed me the way.

The guys were eating pizza and drinking from plastic cups as if they were the ones attending the concert and not performing in it.

“Pre-show ritual,” Colson told me. “Especially when we have someone new joining the band. Sit! Have a slice!”

“Shouldn’t we be practicing?” I asked, but still sat with them. I didn’t want to completely mess up my first day.

“We have hours to practice,” one of the other guys I remembered as Slim said. “And we don’t really need to. We do this every night. A soundcheck is basically just to make sure everything is working tech wise.”

I just nodded, not wanting to point out that I hadn’t been doing this every night. I hoped that I’d have some time to figure out the songs before the shows.

Colson nudged me, bringing my attention to him. “Don’t stress. You’ll do great.”

I smiled at him, wishing I’d believe him.

After our small feast of pizza and beer in plastic glasses, we finally got to our soundcheck. I was so nervous that I kept messing up during the first song. My hands were shaking and I kept hitting the wrong drum by accident. My face was burning with embarrassment as I buried it in my hands and groaned.

Colson walked up to me, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I can get this, I know I can.”

“I know you can, too,” he said. “Just take a breath, relax. We’ll try again when you’re ready. And remember, it’s just drumming. Rook says you’re great at it.”

I smiled at him and nodded. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I pictured myself back in my bedroom from my childhood, playing my drums super loud until my parents had to call out for me to keep it down.

When we started practicing again, it went off without a hitch. We did most of the setlist all the way through and did quick takes on the last few songs before our time was up.

I was proud of myself as the soundcheck came to an end. I was still nervous about performing during the actual show, but I felt confident enough in myself not to make too many noticeable mistakes when we actually had an audience that night.

I was walking to my car when I heard someone calling for me. I turned to see Colson running to catch up with me. Or rather he was taking long strides to catch up with me considering he was so tall.

“I told you you would do great!” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “It’s like drumming runs in your blood or something.”

I chuckled. “That’s what mom and dad always said too, but neither one of them can keep a beat to save their lives and no one else in our immediate family plays either.”

“You and Rook are the start of a long line of drummers then I guess.”

I shrugged in response. We both stood awkwardly for a moment. I wasn’t sure what else to say. His arm was still around my shoulder and I didn’t want to pull away and make it seem like I didn’t enjoy the contact because I definitely was not complaining about it.

I guess Colson also realized that he was still touching me, though, because he pulled his arm away and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do you need a run to the hotel or anything?” he asked. “We have the tour bus.”

I shook my head. “I’m good, thanks. I have my car, and besides I haven’t even checked into the hotel yet so I should probably go do that.”

“Oh, yeah you definitely should. Get some rest before the show, too. It’s a lot more physically demanding when it’s an actual show, even if you’re just sitting at a drum set the entire time. I’ll see you tonight then I guess.” He turned to walk away, but paused and turned back to add, “What were you planning on wearing tonight?”

I looked at him, confused. “Uh...this I guess.”

I was wearing a hoodie and a pair baggy jeans and my most comfortable pair of sneakers.

Colson raised an eyebrow at my outfit before looking back up at me. “I mean, it’s definitely comfy, but I would recommend something a little less...well, just less. It’s going to be hot as fuck on that stage, especially with all the lights on you and shit.”

I nodded, taking note of this as I got into my car and internally panicked a little because I didn’t know if I even had anything to wear.

~~~~~~

A few hours later, after checking into my hotel room and promptly wrecking it by throwing my clothes everywhere, I was heading back down to the lobby to meet up with the guys. We were going to the show together, which would’ve been my first tour bus ride. I couldn’t lie, I was super stoked for it.

I was the last one to the lobby. All the guys were stood around, loudly talking to one another. You’d think they were just a normal group of guys and not a group about to play a sold out show in a massive arena.

Colson spotted me first. I smiled at waved at him. His eyes widened and his jaw basically dropped, which prompted all the guys to turn. Their reactions immediately matched his as they looked me up and down.

“Rook would kill you guys if he could see you right now,” I teased.

“Damn (Y/N),” Colson dared to say first. “You look...you look hot as fuck.”

I had decided on a loose muscle shirt with a bralette underneath since the shirt showed a little more than what I was used to, a pair of ripped skinny jeans, and kept on the comfortable sneakers I had been wearing earlier that day.

I giggled. “Thanks, but again, Rook would kill you for saying that. Also, it’s not anything super attractive.”

“You got a nice body,” Baze pointed out. “Anything showing it off even a little is hot.”

I could feel my face burning as I waved their comments away. “Okay, enough with this. We have a show to get to.”

We boarded the tour bus and started towards the arena. The guys were distracted amongst one another again, completely forgetting about me and my “hot outfit”. Besides Colson, who had come to sit next to me on the couch while the rest of the guys were already drinking whatever was in the mini fridge.

“Do you guys always get drunk before your shows?” I asked.

“Not always. Usually we get high,” Colson responded.

“Now that I can get behind. I’ll probably be less afraid if I’m high.”

Colson held out the joint in his hand to me. I took it and took a quick puff, the smoke immediately burning my throat and lungs as I tried to inhale it. Colson laughed as I started to cough.

“I still say you have nothing to worry about,” he told me. “You’re gonna do great tonight. You can’t even really see or hear the audience with all the lights and the inner ear pieces.”

“That’s even worse cause then I’ll just imagine how big the audience is.”

He put a hand on my leg, something I assume was just instinct for him to do to comfort someone, but the minute he made the contact I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. Colson quickly pulled his hand away and I wondered if he had felt that too.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that without asking,” he said.

“You can if you want,” I assured him. “I wasn’t mad about it or anything.”

Colson looked at me and I realized how blue his eyes were. Rook had always made jokes about how Colson could seduce any woman with just his eyes because they were such baby blues, but I didn’t really believe him until the moment I was looking in them myself. Now I was lost, completely forgetting everyone around me as I felt myself moving closer towards him.

The bus jerked to a stop, causing Colson and I to nearly be thrown from our seats. The guys started off the bus first, running towards the entrance to the arena as I could hear the waiting fans screaming outside.

Colson stood and offered a hand to me. “It’s showtime.”

~~~~~~

After the first song went perfectly, I stopped feeling nervous. Colson was right, I couldn’t see the audience in front of me, but I could faintly hear their screams of excitement over my inner ear piece. It was weird to have it in and not only hear all of us playing, but also the crew talking backstage. It was almost distracting, but it became easy to tune them out.

During one of Colson’s talking points in the show, I reached for my water bottle to take a sip. Colson was hyping the audience up, which made me smile a little.

“Before we continue the show,” he said into his mic, “you guys may have noticed that we do not have our regular drummer tonight.”

I immediately knew what he was about to do and I wanted to hurtle my drumstick at him before he went there.

“As you’ve probably heard, Rook was in a bit of an accident and is off recovering for the time being,” he continued. “So, we decided to get some family to fill in for him for the time being. Everyone, I want to hear y’all make some noise for Rook’s little sister, (Y/N)!”

The crowd cheered loudly. Colson turned to me and waved for me to stand. I glared at him, which I hoped he could see, before standing and awkwardly smiling and waving at the audience.

“All the cool drum shit you guys have been hearing all night has been (Y/N),” Colson said as he started to approach me. “She’s a bad ass fucking drummer, and she’s a pretty fucking cool chick, too.”

I was confused where he was going with this as he came to stand next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulder the way he had earlier that day after soundcheck.

“Which is why, (Y/N), I gotta ask: will you go on a date with me sometime?”

Slight embarrassment was swelling somewhere inside of me at being asked out in such a public way, but that embarrassment was overshadowed by the fuzzy feeling of excitement inside of me. I looked up at Colson, my eyes wide and a smile on my lips.

 He lowered the mic so he could privately add, “I’m being serious. I wanna take you out on a real date. Just the two of us.”

My words were stuck in my throat, but I was able to nod in response. The smile on Colson’s face stretched so wide that I could’ve been convinced he was the one lighting the show.

“Okay,” he said, then lifted the mic to say to his audience, “Let’s get back to the show guys!”