#want a dog so anxious and high strung

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P4]

[Series Link]

(Yandere × F! Reader)

[Warning: misogyny, explicit language, violence, harrassment, bodily harm]

(A/N: i see some of yall find Lukas so offputting 🎯yall not rocking with him? Why❤️What for✨️ is it his personality 💕is he vile and disgusting 🥹? do u hate him💋? Do u wanna beat his ass 🫶? )

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They were nothing but troubles.

He didn't expect to see a familiar face in the tight, dim, sweaty corner of Tokyo. He regretted going to this silly punk rock concert in the first place, but he did say this morning that he would go to one so he could talk to you about it. Mostly he was set on going because he wanted to try out something new, something to talk about - his peers wouldn't set foot near this underground coffee. It was unfortunate that he had no genuine interest in the music - it was loud and complicated. Unpredictable. The guitar might sound cool, but there wasn't a groove to which he could chill and bob his head or trip balls on mushroom while making out with a stranger. No trippy backdrops here - just the dim, anxiety-inducing colored stage light.

So he was there at a standing table way back, watching the crowd dance and scream. He found it strange - the hair, the makeup, the eccentric clothes. The only thing he would safely get behind was the fishnet and leather skirts that some girl really rocked. Sometimes, the girls over at the States would wear that to bars or theme nights. He liked that. He didn't like the way he feel here - half aroused, half judgemental. He would rather the tight sportwears on tanned blond surfers or yoga instructors. The ones who earned nods and hums and vile comments from his frat brothers were he to kiss and tell. Being attracted to them made him feel normal. Accepted. Approved. He wouldn't be caught dead eyeing these women.

But his friends weren't here, so he got to look. Never tell, though. Or if he did, he would say "oh, they dressed crazy", or "their eyeliner were scary", or "their piercings freak me out".

Deciding that it was time for another beer, Lukas begrudgingly went to the bar again. He felt anxious and alone, sticking out like a sore thumb. He earned quite some looks from women, but he couldn't be so sure if they liked what they see or if they could tell he was a poser who only came just to say he did it. He couldn't read their expressions, partly since he was drunk, partly because he was now considering the cultural differences, even if only for a morcel. He was made aware of it most pointedly this morning: the couple faux-pas he made with Sakamoto might have been intentional, but the guy's lack of reaction made him question how big of an insult he had put out there.

Sakamoto made him feel defensive, though Lukas decided not to dwell on it. He wasn't one to feel insecure, especially with guys like that - soft faced and soft-spoken. His big round eyes and sickly skin made him look like a woman, too. At least, Lukas would acknowledge that he was tall. But that was his only saving grace.

He wasn't explicitly aware that he was feeling more territorial over you. It wasn't about you anyway, it was by default. Even in the past, he had done these things - putting down other men to get to women. They were his wingmen, he would justify, they weren't supposed to outshine him. When it was his turn to wingman, he definitely let his brothers dog on him for days. It was common and understandable. If anything, Sakamoto should make ways for him. A girl like you wouldn't suit that guy - he was too uptight and serious. What would two high-strung people do together? You should be with someone who know what a good time is. Also, he saw something Sakamoto didn't - a glimpse of your tattoo. Those family-man wouldn't know how to deal with that. How would he take bring that up to his family? They would freak. Even his sister's "31:25" tattoo freaked his parents out, and they were already the most liberal rich family in his neighborhood.

Yeah, Sakamoto should leave you to him.

Settling in on a barstool, he ordered another beer, then repeat himself when the bartender couldn't quite make out what he was trying to say.

Lukas let his eyes scan the people sitting near him. Only a few, he noticed. It wasn't a crazy crowd to begin with.

After this beer, he'd go home.

As the bartender come back with his bottle, Lukas noticed something he didn't expect. From the crowd, you emerged, making your way toward the bar. He blinked, trying to see if he was mistaken.

No... that was definitely you.

All black from head to toes, you treaded silently like a death omen, your sleek heels clicking. Your short sleeved turtle neck and your tight pants started a heat within his chest. Your face wasn't any different, though - just the usual look. No crazy eyeliner, no bold dark lipstick. Seemed like you did not come here to impress the crowd.

You didn't notice him. Hopping onto a stool at the other end with your back facing him, you ordered something.  You knew Japanese, or just enough to get by. A lot of expats got to that point eventually.

Lukas debated on confronting you about your lies - you said you would be at dinner with a friend. Or maybe he could do that tomorrow.

He didn't peg you for such a casual liar.

Lukas hatched another plan: he could observe you, and see how deep your lies could go. Sipping on his beer, he followed your movement. You adjusted in your chair, still with that calm manner you carried yourself. Then, his eyes rested on your skin left bare by the bold backless top. You looked good, but clueless. Would you know the implications of such a shirt? The way your body moved in it... men would think you were asking for troubles. Bad men. Asshole men who didn't know they were pigs. At least he had the decency to admit that he was a pig, but he was an honest pig who respected women. He was a pig who knew to ask once, then if rejected a couple more time just to make sure, then he would leave it alone. Most pigs wouldn't know to even ask.

You sipped on your pink cocktail. That was cute. Your right now style reminded him of those ravebabes he met during spring break, but you were more subtle and quiet. Your movement were less urgent, and your clothes were less exposing. It was a nice feminine touch.

Your moment of rest didn't seem to last long. A man had chosen to sit down right next to you. This man was lanky, dressed in a very unbuttoned black button-down. He started to chatter, first in Japanese, then in English. Another sleazeball trying to test out his games. Lukas wondered when would be appropriate to interfere.

Your body language made it clear you weren't interested, but not afraid. Immediately covering your drink, you tried to turn your body away. The man seemed not to mind. If anything, his speech seemed more excited, his hands moving around like a stupid puppet. Desperate, Lukas thought, that was not a good look.

Deciding your half-finished drink wasn't safe anymore, you laid it on the bar and stepped down, trying to leave. Upon this, the man caught your wrist, forcing you to turn his way. Lukas' stomach twisted - here it was, the moment where he step it and scare off this asshole.

A loud, off-tune note shred through the music. Lukas looked at the stage. The band played on, but it seemed there was a technical issues with the guitarist.

The momentary distraction cost him his chance to intervene. When he turned his eyes back to you, he was hit with a strange scene - in a swift movement you twisted your arms around the man's and grabbed onto his forearm, forcing it down so hard he stumbled. Your face, now turned sideway during the commotion, was eerily calm when you talked. Lukas heard "Sir... I said no."

The man said something in Japanese, something that sounded bitter. Probably a curse word. Lukas jumped off his seat just as the stranger swung with his free arm to slap you across the face. The bartender seemed to have decided that whatever was going on was enough, and she rushed to you. Before she could, you clenched your idle fist and landed an uppercut so hard the harrasser let out a cartoonish "oof", his limp fingers releasing you as he stumbled backward, hitting right against the bouncer who appeared as if from the shadow.

Something in Lukas awakened in that moment. Your stone cold feature and your bruised knuckle left him slack-jawed. He stepped closer, intending to ask if you were okay. Once again, he was interrupted.

"Sir and ma'am, please explain what happened", the burly bouncer commanded. The pathetic guy excitedly tried to speak, but you only crossed your arms and watched. Your eyes was set on the sad attempt at vidication, but you were patient to let him finish his spiel.

"Is it true that you attacked this gentleman unprovoked, ma'am?"

"I apologize for the commotion, sir", your bowed, hands now hanging right atop your knees. Pulling yourself back up, you continued, "this young man seemed to have taken my rejection poorly, and he had slapped me across my face. I understand that my punch was unseemly, but I did that in an attempt to protect myself. He had gotten ahold of my arms and hit me, so I was fearing for the worst."

The bouncer's scowled, but he decided that he had heard it all. His big hand grabbed onto the stranger's wrist, and together they exited out the backdoor.

The fight definitely grabbed some attention. Lukas stood watching you look around, soaking in the side eyes. Taking in a breath, you dusted yourself off and hopped back onto a barstool. The thick, moist, cigarette-dense air fell heavy in Lukas' lungs. He felt his heart drumming, his body hot from an excitement he couldn't surpress. Something about the way you fought hit him like ecstasy.

He wondered if your punch hurts.

Lost in the unprecedented euphoria, he could only gaze at you as some women came up and asked if you were okay. You reassurred them with a familiar smile, one he had seen you wore at work. Your voice was soft again as you thanked the chirpy crowd for their concerns.

Lukas didn't say anything to you that night. He went home and let the image of you and your victorious knuckle bruises lull him to sleep.

___

"Do you need me to find out who he is?"

Yuki wasn't happy when he asked that. The sight of your bandaged hand and the medical patch on your face stirred his stomach with guilt.

"No, of course not", you shook your head, "I'm fine! Really, it was nothing."

Yuki pursed his lips. The lunch he packed himself suddenly tasted like cardboard.

He tried to make it easier by reminding himself that at least Lukas didn't push to have lunch with you today. In fact, the guy had been stoic for the entire morning. Even though you weren't around, Lukas had somehow been working on his computer silently instead of sprawling on his chair like a slacker. Perhaps you had reminded him about his attitudes at work?

If you did, Yuki was impressed that the newbie knew to listen. He didn't think that kid would be the type to do so.

"Sakamoto, please don't worry. I had fun, and your set was great."

He looked down. He knew he wasn't directly to blame, though the guilt never went away- he was well-acquainted with this sort of harrassment. Right in his childhood home he had witnessed worse. What grated him the most was the silence afterward. The way his mother's frail form would hunch, casting a bent shadow on the shoji, her hands cupping her face. He was too young and small to do anything but stand in the hallway and watch as she eventually moved, mute and rigid. He heard the folds of her clothes creasing against one another and the floorboard barely creaking under her feet.

She couldn't have fought back. She was sickly. When he grew into his middle school uniform, Yuki tried to fight on her behalf but his teenage body bounced off his father's sturdy chest. His father was a merciless man, strong like the grey stone wall surrounding their mansion. Yuki remembered the disappointment in the old man's voice as he lamented "my only son is emotional like a woman, and weak like one, too."

"I see...", he said to you, his voice weary. He didn't know what else to say. He didn't want to bring up the fact that when he saw your tug of war, he let his hand slip across the strings, messing up the song. He had planned to jump off the stage, but his lead singer had tugged on his sleeve and eyed the bouncer who was already coming your way. What was there to tell you? He couldn't say that he had almost done something. Either he did something or he did nothing. In this case, he did nothing. Yuki tried to find solace in the fact that you held your own, but he couldn't. You shouldn't have to, not right in front of a friend.

Another wave of bitterness hit him when he remembered Lukas standing there watching, hesitant to interfere, tall and awkward like an useless telephone pole. Yuki wondered if he should bring Lukas up, but he decides against it. He didn't want you to feel worse - a friend and a junior watching you getting hit, that would not brighten anyone's day. He felt sorry for you to have to deal with two cowards.

Well, if he couldn't feel better, the least he could do was to keep you from feeling worse. He had been of no help with his stupid sad face. After all, this should not be about him. Yuki shamefully put his feelings in the corner as he tried to think of something that would cheer your up.

"Hey, would you like to check out a cat cafe this weekend with me?"

Your eyes lit up.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's right down the street from where I live. I have been meaning to visit, but it would be awkward to go alone."

Yuki already visited. He liked their cakes and tea. Still, he saw no harm in a little white lie to make his invitation seem more natural. He would hate for you to get the idea that he felt obliged to make up for what happened. That would be a transactional spin on what was supposed to be a gesture of friendship.

"That would be so nice! I also was hoping to relax a little lately..."

The knot in his chest unraveled at that.

___

You were intimidated by Lukas' switch-up. Since morning, he was quiet. Upon seeing your bruises, he asked what happened, to which you gave a vague respond about tripping on the sidewalk. No more inappropriate attempts of flirting nor small talks - he appeared to be engrossed in the tasks you handed to him. You found it simultaneously nice and unnerving, so a part of you were glad that you were scheduled to teach until lunch. You were worried that if you were near him for too long, you wouldn't be able to resist asking him what triggered this change.

You thought of asking him to join you and Sakamoto for lunch, remembering the agreement you had made the day prior. Though, by the time you reached the lounge, he was getting ready to leave. "Please don't mind me", he said with an oddly soft smile, "I need to pick up something at the convenient store nearby. I hope you and Mr. Sakamoto have a good meal". His out of character veneered grin hit you like a brick.

By the time afternoon rolled by, Lukas occupied only a corner of your mind. You were mowing through the last days of school, teaching, writing, planning the end of year school festival. When you landed from the whirlwind and came back to the lounge for your last hour, you barely noticed the junior colleague who was still hunched over his laptop. Brushing past him, you got settled. Your tense body completely dropped its guards as you melted in your chair.

Your gaze met with a bottle of cold green tea in your cubicle. From the thin condensation, you figured it hadn't been around for long.

"Afternoon", Lukas' voice echoed from the other side of your corner, "you seemed tired. It's not much, but I hope you feel a little more refreshed drinking that."

"Mr. Lukas... it's so nice of you. I'm embarrassed to not have anything in return."

He didn't move to look at you.

"Don't mind it! You had a long day."

His tone was cool and distant, a long shot from the flirtatiousness you had to suffer so far.

"Really, thank you, Mr. Lukas. I do like this brand a lot, so this definitely made me feel better."

There was a quick pause before he spoke again: "I'm glad."

He moved at last, turning to you. You missed his gaze as you twisted open the cap and took a sip.

"If you don't mind, I would love your opinion on the powerpoints I made so far."

"Of course", you nodded, rolling your chair his way. He arched back, giving you the space to take a look

Your attention was on the mistakes he had made. You had a flaw: you were a perfectionist. Despite your lack of vocal reaction, you knew you could be critical when you saw someone take over your work incorrectly. It comes with expertise. Still, you had trained yourself to manage the uneasiness and maintain an encouraging attitude - something your close friends called "softening the blow".

You often forget, though, that your face could betray you.

"Okay, you did great so far", you said, neglecting to meet his eyes, "but I want to make some notes here. Would you mind?"

"Not at all."

For someone so surprisingly tough, you lacked an eye for details. You didn't see the look on him as he watched your hardening face and bandaged knuckle as if he was starving.

[loquaciousquark]

My dog is getting old. This has happened to everyone in the history of the world who has ever loved a dog.

It's my turn, horologically speaking, to watch age catch up to him. I keep trying on the grief to see how it fits. Today I'm more sanguine; today I'm remembering the good days and the good years. The lump in the throat still hurts.

It's hard for him to stand up now on the bad days. Especially in the evenings, especially when a few hours ago he'd flung himself wall to wall with joy when I got home from work; and especially first thing in the morning when he wakes stiff as a board in the hips. On the good days he can still take the four stairs up to the living room in one light-speed jump when he's on a tear, though he trusts the kitchen linoleum much less than he used to. Today's a bad day. Yesterday was worse.

There's a faint discolored patch on my quilt where he sleeps. Right side, foot. It took half a decade to show up, and every few months I give it an extra soak in a bleach-filled bathtub. It still never really goes away; besides, he puts it right back on. Not tonight, though. Tonight he sleeps in the front room, because the stairs up to me are too hard. He watched me go up tonight without him and his tail drooped so low it touched the floor. He's only been mine eight of his eleven years, but I was there when he came home the first time, when he was exactly eight weeks old. I held him up in one hand like a waiter's tray and it was easy. He's ninety pounds now and I can't help him much at all.

German Shepherds are prone to hip dysplasia. Half-breed, half-hipped, I'd hoped, but on the bad nights he struggles to get up on those back legs like he's heaving ballast off a sinking ship. The husky part of him just seems to make him shed and yell, especially when I'm late getting home. I'd hoped for a little more time from the mix, maybe. But maybe not.

He's finally gotten used to fireworks. Thunder's mostly all right now, unless it's very bad. The washing machine is a new terror; sometimes I forget until it goes into the spin cycle and he lifts my legs off the ground trying to crawl under me. He eats books when he's anxious, when I've committed the temerarious crime of coming home and leaving again in the same day. Cold Mountain is nothing more than shredded cardboard and a few strung-together chapters, a sacrificial lamb to preserve Catherine, Called Birdy and Holes. The Private Patient died years ago.

He didn't want to come indoors tonight. The dryer was going, almost as bad as the washing machine, and there were stairs between him and bed. He let me coax him in at last, because I can't lift him and can't push him, and he made it clear that when he stiff-leg trotted inside he did so because he loved me, not because he wanted to. I sat with him while he found an acceptable patch of rug in the front room; I cooed and petted him and gave him a treat he didn't earn. He still whined when I left and looked like he wanted to get up, but didn't think he could make it.

He's getting old; it's his turn. His muzzle is turning white and his eyes have gone cloudy with cataracts. 2+ nuclear sclerosis, maybe -- probably all a little blurry, that's all. No PSCs, no cortical spoking; central vision's honestly probably fine. The vet keeps saying dogs adapt well. He can certainly see the stray cat who keeps lurking on my front porch. I'd like them to be friends, but a week ago he got out and chased her off like a bullet from a gun. His hips were good that day, and adrenaline covers a multitude of sins.

I have a picture of the first time we took him to get a Christmas tree. He's sitting and looking up and his head isn't even high to my knee. I remember watching him tear around the dog park lap after lap after lap, the single mixed greyhound out of fifteen or twenty dogs the only one who could keep up with him. I have pictures of him at the end of nearly every lecture I give; lately I've been tripping over them like rocks, stony little griefs worked loose from a streambed when the water moves too fast.

I'm thirty-five years old. I keep thinking that every dog who was alive on the planet when I was born is dead. Most are long dead. My dog has meds to help, which is comforting. I have a vet who will help me put him to sleep in my home, his home, when the time comes. Two to four years, she guesses, maybe, if he doesn't get cancer. When I watch him struggle to stand up I wonder if that's not too long for kindness.

It's a very human thing to miss someone before they die. Dogs don't do that. They live in an endless now, like a kid in a yellow summer. Now, I love you. Now, it hurts -- now it stops. Now, I love you.

I want that for us for what's left, for whatever one two three four years we have. When it happens, I want him to die in no pain, looking at me holding him where all his toys are, his favorite rope, his purple pig, his leash, his tennis balls. I want him thinking nothing but Now, I'm tired; now, I'm happy.

The empty place at the foot of the bed hurts tonight. The grief stings and bites, worse because I know I'm borrowing it ahead of time, because he's asleep fifteen feet below me, warm and full, even if tonight's a bad night and the stairs are too hard. I have to sit in it, though, just for a few minutes. Try it on for size. It's his turn, I keep thinking, and mine. Everyone who has ever loved a dog has done this before me. Now, I love you. Now, I miss you. Now, it hurts.

[sucrows]

I’m in such a mating cycle/animal instincts mood so a tierlist of that seems fitting. what animal hybrids would the cast be? -rei

so many of these characters could fit as so many different things but fuck it these are what i'm running with

(elaboration under cut)

Anzu would make a really cute fluffy lionhead type bunny or a wool breed. Eichi is probably some kind of purebred rex, super soft ears and calm. Leo reminds me of one of those really emotive rabbits that will thump at you for something entirely minor, then start binkying around all over the place for some other random reason. Makoto is your average white rabbit. Nazuna is just your standard dwarf rabbit, cute but nothing wild. Wataru might secretly be a hare. Mayoi is a lop, he's also the most prone to die on the spot from stress smh.

As cats... HiMERU is a very calm, but not very affectionate cat with very sleek fur. Ibara seems very affectionate but then bites you if you try to pet him too much, also has really coarse fur. Jun is the rare type of cat that's okay with literally anything. Keito is aloof, but not mean if sought out and doesn't run away. Natsume thwacks things he doesn't like away from him (including other people). Mika has a few people who he allows to pet him, and runs away from anyone else.

If i had to put the dog people to breeds: Arashi as a standard poodle with flashy looks and a lot of energy. Chiaki honestly makes me think of a shepherd breed, hardworking and loyal. While I could call Koga a corgi for the meme of it, I think he's actually more like some kind of high-strung spitz. Subaru reminds me of a heeler. Mao is def a kind of collie who is super hard working and gets anxious if he has nothing to do. Tatsumi is like a LGD to me (think great pyreneese), calm and chill but not a push over at all. Niki is a sighthound mix because he's so weird bless. Tsumugi is dependable, calm person that reminds me of a newfoundland (also fluffy)

Hiyori is a lovebird! So sweet, but also bratty. Hokuto is smart, but also weird, he's a magpie. Izumi is a peacock, showy to his own detriment. Have you ever seen fancy pigeons? Shu is one of the ones with the really dramatic trails and pulled back heads. Souma makes me think of a really inquisitive ringneck or a songbird. Yuzuru is a hawk! totally tethered and accustomed to society, but a hawk nonetheless.

With how regal and intimidating he is, Nagisa's gotta be some kind of big catboy. A white lion or tiger feels most fitting. Adonis was a struggle to place but I think being a bear suits him well. Cop out answer for Kanata would be to just call him a fish, but I think calling him a capybara is fitting. So i also struggled a bit with Kuro but ultimately, I want to call him wolf. Can you even be surprised if i call Madara a cowboy? No you can't. Ritsu and Rei are already vampires, might as well be batboys. Rinne is a crafty, scheming little shit, he's totally a fox.

god this took too much brainpower to type out

[spearohero]

This is a number about a sheepwoman with blessed fire magic, and about how much of yourself it's safe to give, even for the greater good. I've been kicking the character idea around for a while, and finally got started on something with her; I'll post it broken up into chapters over the next few days. Hope you enjoy :)

Dawnsister, Chapter 1: A Day's Work

CW: blood , violence (i wanted to open this thing cold lol sorry)

The peal of a mace against chitinous carapace was the sound of divine intervention, and it was drowned out just as quickly as it had arrived by the shrieking of the struck fiend. The mace’s wielder–a towering ewe with fleece that glittered even in the dim light between the sundered cellar racks–followed the sound, throwing her head forward and bringing her horns crashing into the beast’s jaw. Its foul blood splattered, staining her blindfold, and she heard it stumble as it recoiled. Her intuition, honed by years of hunting and guided by her attunement to the holy light, bade her not to press her advantage.

Instead, she pivoted on a hoof, and her ear flicked in the wind of a claw that sliced through the space her head had just occupied. Lunging with animal abandon, the beast now flew forward, carried and left unguarded by its own momentum. She held her mace high and bellowed as she brought it down with both arms upon the back of the creature’s neck–a crack as her blow connected, and another as its skull bounced against the stone floor. She brought a hoof down, turning the cracks into a crater, cutting short its wailing and leaving it lifeless beneath her.

She heaved a sigh, allowing herself half a heartbeat’s respite before reaching to the tome strung to her hip by waxen cords. She flicked it open with a practiced motion, though this was more a habit than a necessity: without reading from the book, she recited a verse that engulfed the abomination’s corpse in a crackling, amber-tinted flame. Anointed pages fluttered as the embers spread across the ground, scouring the cellar of any trace of the beast, and ensuring that its remains would not poison another living thing. Bile and blood blew away, venom vanished, and even the marks left by its talons seemed shallower, less ragged, in the wake of the Dawnsister’s cleansing fire. She snapped the book shut as the last of the remains blew away to ash, and turned toward a nervous voice from the top of the stairs.

“Is it done?” the dog woman called down, shoving her pup behind her as he tried to peer around the doorframe, full of anxious curiosity. The ewe nodded over her shoulder and turned to climb and speak to her, the armored pleats of her scapular clanking as her hooves thunked on each step.

“It is. I apologize that I cannot restore your food stock,” she condoled, gesturing at the wreckage below, “nor assist you with the mess.”

“Assist us? Good sister, you have assisted us aplenty! Please, is there anything we can offer you? There is food elsewhere in the house, or perhaps some coin–”

“No,” she stopped her. Accepting a reward treading the righteous path always felt… selfish. What’s more, she could do without. “But thank you.”

“...I see. Well, you’re welcome here if ever you’re in need, or even if you happen to pass by!”

“My good woman,” the ewe intoned, her face turned past the lady of the house, “are you safe here?”

“Why, whatever do you… O-oh, I understand.”

The ewe would have been surprised if she hadn’t understood. The Dawnsisters had gone to great lengths to educate the citizenry of the nature of the devils that had plagued them for so long. While they were once mistaken as the cause of most of mortalkind’s evils–the idea of possession made for strong accusations and alibis alike–observation, born of the Dawnsisters’ vigilance, had shown the opposite to be true.

Creatures of the dark were spawned of (or perhaps simply drawn to; nobody could be sure) the darkness that lived in mortal hearts. Lesser evils begot lesser beasts; a personal betrayal might be repaid by the sadistic pranks of an imp, and those who cast others out as “lesser” or “depraved” for the sake of inflating their own egos often met similar misfortune.

The greater the trespass upon one’s fellow mortal, the greater the abyssal reprisal. Avarice and hunger for power were favorites of demons: guild heads who cheated their laborers and patrons frequently had to contend with supernatural sabotage at even far-flung outposts of their trade, and kingdoms reigned by cruel monarchs were often beset by legions of fiends. Such times of crisis were the driving force behind the formation of the Dawnsisters, and eventually, it was their ranks who drove these evils out at the root. Though they strove to bring light to the world, one could just as rightly call them Kingslayers or Shacklebreakers–and one could just as easily call upon them for a task as simple as providing an impartial third party.

All of this meant that, on occasion, bringing a demon to light meant bringing one’s skeletons from the cupboard. Even a particularly forceful or jealous husband could, given time, draw a devil from the depths.

“Well, nobody living here has done anything base enough to bring that into our home.” Footsteps, small ones–the boy was scurrying off, probably either bored of adult chatter or having had his fill of action for the day. The woman tried to meet the Dawnsister’s eyes, but found only cloth. “We have enough faith in you that, if we needed your aid, we could ask freely. Especially after how easily you handled that–” She checked around her legs to see whether her son was still there. “–That bastard,” she chuckled.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on the affairs of your neighbors, it seems,” the Dawnsister sighed. She trusted that the woman would come to her, or at least to the abbey, if anything else happened to her and her son. 

“Are you certain there’s no way for us to repay you?” The boy’s footsteps returned from down the hall as his mother spoke.

“Fully certain. I have no need for–”

“Momma!”

“Dear, Momma’s talking to the–oh! Oh, go right ahead!” She interrupted herself, pushing her son forward. He stood in front of her for a moment before his mother cleared her throat.

“Oh, um! For you, miss Dawn… Dawnsssister,” he ventured the (apparently new) word. Bless his heart, he didn’t realize she couldn’t see that he was holding something out for her. She hesitated, but couldn’t bring herself to decline such a sweet gesture. Without even knowing what was in the child’s paws, she took it, turning it over and carefully feeling it. She had all night to puzzle out what it was, though, and very little time before the next person in need would call upon her.

“Be safe, friend,” she wished the mother, “and thank you, little one.”

“Blessings, good sister!”

“Buh-bye!”

With that, she led the blindfolded woman to the door. It was dark out. It made little difference to the Dawnsister, but this was far from her first house call of the day, and she was certain it wasn’t to be her last.

See Chapter 2 here!

[bluebird-poetry96]

Who am I?

Am I the person that will forever ride the high highs

The ones that take me higher than the sky?

The ones where i feel

Nothing is wrong and

I am one with the cosmos...

The one who will never shut up,

Always finding something meaningless to say.

You know, things like...

How easy it is to not sleep,

How much energy I have,

How good I feel.

How perfect life is,

How it has always been perfect.

How it will always Be perfect.

How, I can’t remember, there was any other feeling,

Then being on top of the world.

How all I can do is hold on for dear life.

How I can do all of those

Tediously Treasonis Tasks.

Like dishes,

Taking out the trash,

Wiping down the counters,

Walking the dog.

Folding the laundry.

The high that, catapults me, and I fly with force beyond the clouds,

I hurl through the atmosphere and

Into the universe.

I can’t come down, I won't.

I am forever fearless...

And then a fire rages through me.

I hear, someone, chewing.

I hear, the fan, blowing on overdrive,

I hear, shooting, from the video game,

I hear, both my roommates talking to each other, Insanely loudly. I get it, they’re excited.

I hear, the high pitch screeching, from the charger, plugged into my phone,

I can feel, my shirt, sitting on my shoulders, an itchy, heavy, weight.

I can feel, the heat, radiating off my body, my cheeks, are blistering

I can feel, my heart, pounding in my chest,

I can feel, the sweat, dripping, down my brow.

I can feel, the grime, on my teeth, and it is sandpaper, against my tongue.

My blood boils.

I want to scream...

Who am I..?

Am, I, the one, who will forever ride, the low lows.

The ones that, pull me, deep into the abyss, never to return.

The ones that, swallow me whole, where, nothing has ever been, right,

I am one in the darkness.

The one, who, never, knows what to say.

Never, able to speak of,

The Important Things.

You know,

Things like...

How hard life has been.

The pointless...

Tedious...

Tasks of daily life...

Like dishes...

Like...taking out the trash...

Or...doing laundry...

Biggest task of them all....taking a shower..

The lows, that make those, tasks,

Into mountains, with boulders...hurling downwards.

I can’t dodge...

I am afraid...

I speak, so slowly, the words, stick, in my throat...as if they were, freshly chewed bubble gum, in long hair, on a windy day....

Where, the only way to, get it out, is to cut it out.

There, is a, 100 pound weighted blanket, thrown over my head, that crashes, and, throws me on the ground.

Right as, I am conscious, of my mind, only wishing for, one moment of peace...

From the restless, fidgety, anxious, nights sleep.

The lows, where, you don’t really sleep.

The ones, where, your mind only races,

Ten thousand trains of thought, crashing, through, one another...

The ones, where, you don’t dream and

There is, no hope upon the light of daybreak.

I hear, the birds, around 5am.

I hear, my, frustrated mind,

“It's too early. Please, I beg of you. Stop.”

My thoughts scream, and, I know, there is,

No chance, of going back to that unrestful slumber.

I cry.

I beg for sleep.

All I want is to be a good person,

But, how, am I, supposed, to do that?

If, I can’t even be, kind, to, myself...

How am, I, supposed to raise others up, So they know their own worth, how special they are

If, I, can’t do that for, myself.

I cry.

I beg for sleep.

My chest, aches, with a gaping hole, where my heart, used to hang...

I can’t breathe...

It hurts...

I have, known, no other sensation...

I have, felt, no other emotion,

I have, strung, no other chord...

I have, heard, no other perception...

It has

Always,

Been like this.

I, am, never going to get better...

And once again,

I don’t want to live anymore.

This cycle, repeats,

Over and over.

It will be, until the end of time...

My life, reincarnated,

Again and again.

Will, I, ever, understand the weight, the moderation, that is the,

Middle ground?

The beauty, and strength, Of being stable,

In the middle..

Of being, balanced, in Both, good and bad, at the same time...

Will, I, ever, know, the peace, that would be,

To know darkness without sinking into the void.

To know the heavens without becoming a wrathful god.

Unfortunately, I know the answer.

I will never be able

To be sensible and clearheaded.

Not in this life,

And not in the next.

Who am I?

I, am the tsunami, in a,

Raging, unforgiving storm.

I, am a, burning wildfire, consuming, Everything, in my path.

I am a hurricane.

I am a natural disaster.

I am yin and yang,

The ebb and flow of extremes.

Living,

Dying.

Forever rabid.

Forever understanding.

Forever faithful.

Forever wild.

Always.

-Raven Blue Bell

[muttsmischiefacademysblog]

I don't feel I am the right person for a (my) dog!

Audio - text to speech - 10 minutes 3 seconds duration - https://youtu.be/CVGtybWUv5c?si=t8Vb82o6hkw8o_1Z

Many people who are autistic/ anxious or have developmental, neurological or mental health conditions (Neurodivergent) don't feel that they are the right type of person to have a dog.

I was one of these people for many years, I worried I would make my dog anxious or stressed if I was to get a dog.

Working in kennels I wanted to take them all home and couldn't see just how much I was doing for them and how much they enjoyed my company.

Being referred to as quirky, highly strung, odd, sensitive, where my heart on my sleeve, weird etc or overlooked for my skills and talent because I am different. These are all extremely harmful and hurtful terms, especially when you are also overlooked because of someone's mindset about you.

People would be quick to commend me and tell me what a wonderful way I had about myself with dogs to put the most anxious dogs at ease. But when it comes to the crunch, it is always a case of being overlooked. Which is not ideal for anyone's confidence or harmful self beliefs because of others and their opinions and lack of empathy, tolerance and understanding.

I want to remind those like myself who are also neurodivergent or disabled that there is absolutely nothing wrong with us having dogs.

Some studies have found long term stress for humans can affect dogs also (but what they mostly found was this was actually with guardians who took their dogs to agility). (1)

Studies are extremely limited and work with a controlled section of breeds, sex, humans and environmental factors. For example in the study conducted by Sundman et al (2019). Their study was limited to 58 humans and their dog which was either a Border Collie or Shetland Sheepdogs.

If we look at another journal we find that there has been a study focused on Border collie behaviour. “Individual and group level trajectories of behavioural development in Border Collies.” This study focused on 69 Border Collies which placed an emphasis on the individual traits of each dog. (2)

So it is very easy for a journal to say that science has found evidence that stressed owners stress their dogs. However this is a very small study and not one to a scale where this could be said definitively or one that could be applied to real relationships as the individual guardian and their family would have to be evaluated by a psychiatrist, an independent observer such as a behaviourist would have to fill in the questionnaires about the dogs perceived behaviour in the home etc and then the researchers would have to interpret this data.

Which will never happen as this would just be too costly and many guardians would not want a live in behaviourist observing them nor would many people be open to a psychiatrist test to explore the five factor model and be assessed on their OCEAN traits of personality. (3)

OCEAN stands for openness, conscientiousness, extraversion, agreeableness and neuroticism. For my Level 4 years ago I had to conduct this study on a cross section of willing friends who were also dog guardians. Some of them are neurodivergent and some not yet all scored very high for neuroticism. Which according to data doesn't make for a great guardian, except they were great guardians.

We can absolutely not base a person's ability to be a good guardian based on their developmental, neurological conditions or mental health.

All of my dogs support me and my mental health, they know when I am struggling and they offer comfort during these times. I am stressed most of the time and my dogs are not. If I have a particularly bad day this does not reflect in their behaviours, they aren't highly strung on walks, their fur patterns haven't changed, their diets and appetites haven't ever changed, playfulness or any other behaviour trait.

Zombie, my youngest is a special needs dog and his behaviour is the opposite of what a dog should express, for example when he's enjoying cuddles that he instigates, he doesn't look soft and relaxed like a normal dog. He looks the complete opposite and if you stop because you're worried about his body language he communicates to you that you fuss him and he isn't finished.

Many people said that I should euthanize him when he was younger and showed how different he was, but I persevered and made sure he was happy and comfortable just like my other dogs with different needs and arrangements made for him.

Now I am commended for all I have done for him and how he is excelling and enjoying life.

The relationship with your dog isn't about training and how your dog feels emotionally. It's about the connection you both have. Again if we look at the first study the dogs and humans both showed heightened stress partaking in dog sports.

The pet dogs did not show this level of stress and nor did their humans. The researchers themselves admitted this needs to be studied further for a complete understanding.

The most important thing is the connection you have with your dog. It doesn't matter if you're stressed, depressed, autistic or have another development or neurological condition or if you have a mental health condition.

The connection you have with your dog and how you live with them, bond with them, play with them, communicate with them and love them is what matters. A dog and guardian relationship where the dog and the guardian share a secure connection is what matters.

What many of us need to focus on whether you already have a dog or are considering adding to your family is self love which you can read about here and access self help tools. https://www.facebook.com/share/Aup95JhKk7BT4zCT/?mibextid=WC7FNe

Dogs also do help people with mental health problems, developmental and neurological disorders. Studies that have found that guardians struggle with mental health are actually based on the reactivity of the human.

Researchers found guardians of dogs may experience a form of caregiver burden as found in humans and families due to dogs being seen as a part of the family unit. (4)

This reference is cited from a journal which was exploring how mental health is impacted by dogs. This particular reference was in reference to guardians with reactive dogs.

These guardians displayed negative mental health due to their dogs behaviour and reactions to triggers but upon further analysis it was actually found to be due to society and not their dogs.

Through the data that the researchers collected they found that there were four major areas which could be analysed as to understanding the breakdown in relationships and the struggles of behavioural challenges in dogs.

Caretaking - expense of the vets, training, behaviour modification, breakdown in relationships, lack of understanding and support from friends and families.

Emotions - both negative and positive emotions were reported. Negative included emotions such as anger, fear, frustration, sadness and resentment. Whereas some reported feeling that they had a stronger bond.

Coping strategies - seeking help and getting support from trainers and behaviourists as well as some vets and therapists for themselves.

Lack of understanding and support - from the general public on walks, friends and family and social media. (4)

So when we look at these four categories, the dog isn't actually to be blamed. The frustrations all come down to money and having to spend more money than anticipated originally.

Lack of support from friends, family and even some professionals as well as unsolicited opinions from the general public and social media.

So here we aren't looking at dogs with behavioural problems as being the problem. We are looking at humans who are unable to deal with negativity from other humans and feeling that this all stems from their dogs behaviour.

Guardians are negatively impacted due to other' s opinions. So coming back to where I discussed how dogs improve and aid our mental health and or developmental or neurological disorders this is true. It is society and people which cause harm to guardians with dogs with big emotions.

People don't like to feel inadequate and some more than others, some guardians like myself can focus on their dogs strengths and support their dog through their anxiety and emotions and focus on a secure and healthy connection with the dog over training, trying to change an emotion quickly to “nip it in the bud” rather than heal the emotion or dog sports.

So to conclude you are good enough to have a dog. I wish someone had said this to me over a decade ago. People are so quick to criticise and be unkind and people aren't so quick to lend support, love and strength.

So if this has resonated with you, you are good enough for your dog and if you don't yet have a dog but want one. Welcome a dog into your family because you are good enough!

References

Sundman, AS., Van Poucke, E., Svensson Holm, AC. et al. Long-term stress levels are synchronized in dogs and their owners. Sci Rep 9, 7391 (2019). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-019-43851-x

Riemer, S., Müller, C., Virányi, Z., Huber, L., & Range, F. (2016, July). Individual and group level trajectories of Behavioural Development in border collies. Applied animal behaviour science. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5295634/

McCrae RR, John OP. An introduction to the five-factor model and its applications. J Pers. 1992 Jun;60(2):175-215. doi: 10.1111/j.1467-6494.1992.tb00970.x. PMID: 1635039.

V. Braun, V. Clarke.Using thematic analysis in psychology. Qual.Res. Psychol., 3 (2006), pp. 77-101

Image description - a baby Wolfdog chewing a frozen enrichment item under a table.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

330 of 2023

You go to therapy. You've travelled to foreign countries all by yourself. You're really good at video games that require precision and fine motor control. You're highly organised and plan for everything. You love spreadsheets and other tracking devices/documents. Your hair is dyed an unnatural colour. You've been treated badly by a lot of friends throughout your life. You've been vegetarian since high school or earlier. You're highly opinionated and struggle to keep an open mind when people have different views than you. You care deeply about a lot of things in life, like work, friends and famiily. Going to see a doctor makes you very anxious because they often don't understand your needs. You travel often for work. Giving gifts is your love language. You entered a talent competition in school but ended up feeling embarrassed and ashamed. You have lots of colourful tattoos. You're an animal lover. You work with animals. You're a creative person. You love to paint and draw. You have a pet budgie. You want a cat or a dog but you can't afford to have one. You got married before you turned 21. You always seem to find four leaf clovers. You struggle with self-esteem. You are obsessed with Lego. You've accidentally cut yourself while cooking, so bad that you needed surgery and/or almost lost use of your thumb. You're accident prone. You can be highly strung and sometimes the slightest inconvenience can start an emotional meltdown. You were diagnosed with a mental health condition as a teenager. You've gotten into a car accident while texting and driving. You drive a highly sought-after car. Your romantic partner is from Asia. You love to play first-person shooter games. You're a bad dancer but you love to dance anyway. You're active and love to play team sports like soccer and field hockey. You're an idealist, and it's not always realistic. You have high expectations for the future. You love to cook and love trying new recipes. You love to mix up cocktails at home. You always go by a shortening of your first name. You had asthma as a kid and ended up in hospital for it many times. You have a very online sense of humour. You love reading about subjects relating to history, politics and the economy. You mostly listen to electronic music. You have bad time management skills.

[azenari]

reo | 11.6.20

originally written for a teacher and a friend -- “You don't always get the dog you want, but you get the dog that you need.”

Thanks to some combination of nature and nurture, I’ve been a fairly high-strung, anxious person for as long as I can remember. Emotionally, I have a lot to work through when it comes to self-esteem, belonging, and neuroses/insecurity as it pertains to my relationships. I lost my mother unexpectedly at a young age and was the one who discovered her body when I came home from school one day. I have intense survivor’s guilt, and I’m constantly waiting for the floor to fall out from under me because I’ve been hyper-aware ever since that moment that it can happen anytime.

I struggled with depression for a number of years - mostly alone or with the support of other friends who were also struggling - and made a couple suicide attempts which, thankfully, did not succeed. I had some less-than-ideal experiences with psychiatrists because strangers put pressure on my father, a single dad and a widower, to seek professional help because I smiled and thanked them for coming to my mother’s funeral (which I thought was what she would’ve wanted me to do. I still think that). It took me years to come around to the fact that maybe I’d just seen the wrong therapists at the wrong time, vs. believing that therapy just wasn’t for me.

This shift in mindset occurred not a moment too soon, because after years of denial, I recognized that one of my closest personal relationships was and had been increasingly abusive (culminating in sexual assault). I developed and was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). At last, I went to therapy. This time, I was lucky to find someone who could help me - in her words, it was also because I was ready to be helped.

It’s been a few years since then, and while I’m not always successful at maintaining a healthy state of mind and body, I’m a lot better than I used to be. I listen to myself a lot more, for one. I’m working through the survivor’s guilt. I’m lucky to be married to someone I consider both a best friend and a soulmate, the latter of which I thought was more of a fairytale than anything else until I met him. I have trust. I have people and places I call home. I sleep and eat on a regular basis. I still challenge and push myself in life because that’s who I’ve always been, but in such a way where I can really feel the joy in doing it, rather than the dread of waiting for myself to fail.

Three years ago, I made a decision I knew I would always make someday, deep in my gut. I decided to get a dog.

I’ve always been a “dogs welcome, people tolerated” person. My family and I have been rescuing sick, lost, or injured animals since I was a little girl. When I was growing up, my best friend - and the only living being in the world I felt comfortable confiding all my thoughts in - was our neighbor’s dog, who was born and brought home the same year that I was. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever met a dog I didn’t love at first sight.

I was 23 by the time I’d saved the financial resources and created the infrastructure I thought I would need to support a dog. I was incredibly lucky to already have one - my husband’s dog, Nyx, who by that point was 2 years old and the absolute joy of our lives. Though she started as his dog, Nyx became our dog and continues to see us both as her parents; but she was his decision, and he brought her up with his own two hands (a Herculean feat for a 21-year-old navigating his first job) while I was still in school.

While I would’ve loved to adopt a bigger dog, my husband and I lived in a small apartment in Los Angeles and knew we didn’t have the space to support one, so we decided to look for another mini Australian Shepherd or Shepherd mix who would be a good companion for Nyx. I intended to rescue, so I followed a lot of rescues in the area, waiting for a puppy I could learn to raise myself. In the midst of all this research, I made the mistake of following a single breeder: A teacher with a family farm in Northern California who bred miniature Australian Shepherds and Italian Greyhounds out of sheer love for both, which I thought was such a hilarious combination that I wanted to follow their activities from afar.

A couple of months went by, and the teacher in Northern California posted about a new litter of mini Aussies on Facebook. She uploaded pictures one by one, and we followed along, trying to hold ourselves back - which became easy enough because one after the other, someone would claim the newest puppy in record time and ask to bring them home.

One day, she posted a picture of a puppy that was one of the smallest in the litter and frankly didn’t look anything like any other Aussie - or even dog - that we had seen before. When we saw him, even though it was technically just a photo, it felt like he was looking straight at us. I remember showing him to my husband (then boyfriend) and the first words out of his mouth were: “Is that our dog?” … Call it a gut instinct.

Knowing that we wanted to rescue and imagining that this puppy, like the others, would not have any trouble finding a forever home, we told ourselves that we would wait a week and see what happened. Usually in a matter of 24-48 hours, the dog would be spoken for. But for some reason… days went by, and no one came for the puppy.

I caved and sent the teacher a message.

After what felt simultaneously like a lifetime but also five seconds, I was flying to Sacramento to meet her and bring our baby home. I remember the moment when she gently placed him in my arms. It felt like something that had been empty in my chest for years was suddenly not empty anymore. I know people describe human motherhood as a singular experience, but as someone who had gone through life for years questioning whether she would ever form a permanent connection with any living creature - or have anyone or anything to come home to - I can’t imagine that the moment I have a child (if I’m lucky enough to have a child) will feel too different from the moment I held Reo for the first time.

I remember the first night as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. We ordered a crate beforehand, but a long and complicated series of circumstances led to me having to fly to pick him up the day before the crate would arrive. That night, he and I both slept on the couch - he with his body mostly in his carrier, curled up on a blanket that smelled like his siblings, with the door partially open to give him room to stretch and breathe - me haphazardly tucked next to him with one hand lightly touching his back just so I would know if something happened. He slept pretty peacefully, actually, but I woke up every 15 minutes in a panic, worrying that something would happen to him or that I would do something wrong or that he would disappear and this would’ve all been a dream. But he was there every time I opened my eyes.

Fast forward a few years later and Reo is, for the most part, a goofy, roly-poly force of nature who is incredibly loving to the people he considers to be his “pack”. He’s also... anxious and fairly high-strung (where have we heard that before?), especially around strangers - and especially if he perceives there to be a potential threat to his mother, who he seems to constantly worry is at risk of being attacked. God willing, I don’t think he’ll ever have to experience finding my dead body one day when he comes home from school; nevertheless, he seems to have inherited the lingering, irrational paranoia I developed from that experience.

I’m no different, really. PTSD isn’t something that truly goes away. At best, it’s dormant, manageable, something I’ve learned to appreciate as an indicator of when my body feels overwhelmed or unsafe. I’m still generally anxious, neurotic, and high-strung; and though I’ve learned to not let it dictate the way I live my life, I’m also still a little insecure.

I’ve gotten a lot better at hiding it from humans. But I’m incapable of hiding it from my dog.

Which brings me to where we are today. Like me, Reo is the way he is through some combination of nature and nurture. He’s always going to be a little anxious about life, and I only gave him more reasons to feel constant concern. We’re both too aware, too worried, too afraid of the million things that could go wrong at any given moment.

On the other hand - like me, Reo is also capable of change. And growth. And building trusting relationships with others, based on a shared understanding that you reinforce through time and practice until you slowly start to believe it might be real.

Reo and I have both learned to perceive our physical home as the only true “safe space” we have in the world. Despite our mutual love for adventure, fear of all aforementioned things that could go wrong keeps either of us from wanting to leave. After a lifetime of constant harassment from strangers (predominantly male, predominantly malicious, always a vivid reminder of abuse), I’m on high alert every time I leave the house, and that compounds when I bring him with me. My dormant PTSD symptoms seem to stir like sleeping lions as soon as we so much as swing open the door. For both of us, there are triggers lurking around every corner, waiting to scare us into giving up.

But if we continue hiding within the confines of these four walls, we’ll miss out on so many of the joys of life. And even if I could’ve reconciled myself to that type of existence, I don’t want him to suffer the same fate just because I’m terrified to set foot outside.

So we’re working through it. We’re fortunate to have a strong, loving, and patient support system. We’re fortunate to have the financial resources to ask for professional help. Recently, we met our “therapist” - a teacher and behaviorist who can understand and guide us both. Based on how our first day went, I think we both instinctively recognize that she’s the right person to help us, because she understands where both of us are coming from. To Jo: I don’t know what it is you went through, or what your triggers and traumas are… but even just from our interaction today, it felt like you could recognize my experience, especially in seeing how it manifested in my relationship with Reo. I realize we’re asking you to train me a lot more than we’re asking you to train him. I’m deeply grateful that you're still willing to do it.

I know it doesn’t seem like it when we’re out there, but I have a lot of conviction when it comes to this relationship. Of course, I think my body (easily triggered, hyper-reactive, always the most skeptical part of my ecosystem) has a hard time believing that we’re going to be okay. My mind has its moments; sometimes it thinks we’re going to be, sometimes it has to fight itself to remember what we’re working towards.

My heart, on the other hand, has remained hopeful through all of these experiences. It’s part of the reason I’m still here. And my heart really, truly believes that we’ll get there - we being Reo, and also me.

I’ve spent a lot of time wishing that Reo had better luck finding a mother. Someone who was sure of herself. Someone a little less traumatized, less anxious, less afraid… but the fact of the matter is he wound up with me. Instead of wishing that I could be someone else, I’m going to focus on being grateful that he came to me when I needed him most. I’ve done a lot of healing over the last few years, and we’ve both come pretty far relative to where we started. But we still have a long way to go.

For his sake, and my sake, I want to keep moving forward.

[darkwood-sleddog]

kinda snowballing off that post and also bringing in what my vet said a few months ago about being surprised that my dogs are so nice and easy to handle 'for malamutes'

the idea that working bred dogs cannot be friendly with people (to their breeds ideal bc let's be honest golden friendliness is different than collie friendliness is different than husky friendliness etc.) is such a weird perception to me and a troubling position to see my fellow working sled dog peers take.

Like "oh they didn't do well at the show because they're working dogs." you say in a ring full of other working dogs and it's not even the question of "is this dog socialized to this or not?" because certainly my working breeder (whose dogs are highly titled in work in the breed) does not prioritize some of the situations my working pet dogs are put in by me, but they did not need to be heavily socialized to these situations to navigate them.

They have never been even remotely wary of a stranger and even though they have no show experience and never will I know that the only thing they'd struggle with in the ring would be stacking for long periods of time. Not being around other dogs of the same gender even though they are selective, not the poking and prodding. Yes, even my dog that is too naturally anxious to be breeding quality.

My dogs are a primitive breed and modern expectations of dog behavior doesn't often line up with their naturally occurring behaviors. They're loud, they wrestle too hard for many other dog breeds, they prefer a strict routine of respectful behavior and body language from other dogs -and yes the modern expectation they should act no differently than a golden is ridiculous- but despite not meeting these societal expectations i can bring my dogs to a restaurant or to the hardware store with me, my dogs greet children gently even though they've had limited exposure, even when they don't love what's being done to them at the vet they are able to be safely handled and none of that takes away from their working ability.

[killingitreservoirdogsstyle]

Hi!! Thank u so much for following me back, you’re the coolest❤️ I was wondering if you could write headcanons for being Joe Cabot’s daughter and Eddie’s younger sister dating Vic. Thank you so much in advance!!!💞

Hello @scarletcountesss! You're welcome for the follow, thank you for requesting and keeping up with my chaotic bin on fire of a blog here! I can totally do these headcanons, this is such a great idea! Sorry it took so long, I hope it wasn't an inconvenience to you. Colds suck, oh my god. But I'm totally living for this idea, so I'm gonna get right into it! Thanks again for requesting and being so patient with me! You rock!

FANDOM: Reservoir Dogs 

GENRE: Requested Headcanons, romantic relationship, light smut, and AU!

SYNOPSIS: You’re the youngest of the Cabot family dating Vic Vega/Mr. Blonde and it is certainly interesting!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: AFAB! reader, innuendo in one headcanon, and romantic relationship!

So right off the bat, your dad and brother are extremely protective of you in every single way possible and in every area of your life. You literally cannot do much for yourself without them fussing so much over the supposed ‘risks’ involved. This had led you to be irate with them, but you know that the intention is good. 

It would be different if you were a boy, but because you’re female, it’s a whole other ballgame. Joe recognizes this more so than even Eddie. He raised you gently but firmly, doting on you constantly. And he teaches your brother manners towards you, that you are a young lady and thus must be treated with high regard. Some of the worst trouble Eddie’s ever gotten into was because he was short, abrasive, or cruel to you. Joe cuts no corners, nobody’s about to hurt his baby girl. 

Say what you want about the Cabot men, but they do know how to properly handle a girl. 

It became more difficult when you grew up, especially in the teenage years when boys began to show you romantic affection. Joe wasn’t against you having a boyfriend, or a girlfriend for that matter, instead he’s wary like a guard dog. He was the more relaxed one, it was Eddie who was the high strung one. Eddie “bitch slap” Cabot ( that’s my nod to @eddiecabotsmile LOL ) would grill, bully, threaten, and at worst, put a bullet in your beau at the slightest provocation and misstep. It’s a bloody affair being his sister. 

However, when you met Vic Vega, everything changed. You both were attracted to each other from the very first encounter, sensing that you two were meant to be a couple. The chemistry was tangible, potent enough that Joe understood what was happening. And he wasn’t unhappy about it, quite the opposite! He loves Blondie like a second son and couldn’t have picked a better man for you to date. Vic’s trustworthy, upstanding, and has you in good hands. It reminds him of his first wife, who is yours and Eddie’s mother, and whom he was just as madly in love with. So, your daddy just lets the relationship bloom on its own. 

Eddie was overjoyed that Vic might be his brother-in-law some time soon, but less thrilled that his baby sister was going to be in a romantic relationship. He just worries for you, what dating or marriage would do to you and your sibling relationship. Deep down he’s anxious about losing you for some inexplicable reason--though he will never admit that to anybody but himself. Whatever he can do to keep you safe seems the best option. Yet, when he sees how happy you are with Vic, something stirs within him that he can only identify as joy. Happiness that you are happy and fulfilled. 

Lots of dates with Vic in which your dad and brother tag along. Be it one of the nightclubs or steakhouses Joe owns or one of Blondie’s biker haunts, you four always manage to have a great time dancing, drinking, and eating to your heart’s content like royalty. 

Joe and Eddie continuing to shower you in gifts, with the addition of Vic’s presents too. Really, you are spoiled by their tokens. Blondie loves nothing more than seeing you in a dress he bought you and your neck dripping with fancy diamonds from his affections. You’re a classy girl, and he figures that a classy girl like you deserves special treatment. 

You are definitely concerned when Eddie and Vic pull jobs with the other Dogs. Things could go sour very quickly. God forbid if something were to befall your brother and boyfriend. Just the thought is enough to make you sick with worry. Luckily you have your daddy to put you at ease. He’s not about to let anything happen to his son and best man/future son-in-law. You know this, which reassures you. 

I had to put something along the lines of innuendo in this headcanon set, because we know that Blonde is a lusty little shit, a closet freak. Skip this one if you are uncomfortable with implied smut! When you’re around your brother and dad, any sexual attention is kept under the radar as much as possible for Vic. This is him we’re talking about after all, ha ha. Anyways, Eddie is certainly not a fan when he accidentally catches you two making out, presumably about to take it a step further. He whines and gags about it, being the drama queen he is. 

All good now for you to look, if you skipped from above!

Vic loves you and your family too, feeling fortunate to even be apart of it in the way he is. And you love him more than anything, living for him every single day of your life. Eddie and Joe are just thrilled that Blonde’s apart of the family now, something that should have been coming for awhile! 

I am so sorry if these weren’t great, please do let me know and I can totally fix them to suit your needs! Thank you so much for requesting again @scarletcountesss, I super appreciate you and your support, kindness, and friendship! You rock! And that goes for all of you, of course! More requests will be released soon, I promise! Stay tuned, and have a great Easter weekend everyone, if you celebrate it! Ciao!

[blackvelvetallure]

MARS THE TWELVE SIGNS

The sign in which Mars resides in the birth chart shows the expression of energies. Mars suggests the projection of self. Your energies must be evaluated in four different ways, and the sign that Mars occupies at birth largely signifies the type and degree of energy in all four. These four are first, Physical energies, which might show how hard or diligently you work, aptitude for sports, and just generally having the go power to get what you want in life. Next is mental energy; the energy spent thinking, communicating, and pursuing intellectual goal and ambitions. Then, comes the practical energy that is necessary to make your way in life; planning and organizing, holding down a job and padding the old nest egg, being responsible and dependable. Finally, Mars defines emotional energies which usually show up first as sex drive, but may include other aspects of emotions such as feelings, and setting emotional boundaries, and drive toward artistic endeavors. The Mars position suggests whether your energies are going to be largely physical (fire signs Aries, Leo, Sagittarius), material (earth signs Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn), mental (air signs Gemini, Libra, Aquarius), or emotional (water signs Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces). Here then is Mars in the twelve signs: 

🐏 ARIES MARS

Mars is at its strongest in Aries, its natural sign. This placement represents high energy, initiative, courage and impulsiveness. Most of the energies seem to come out as the physical and emotional type, but in Aries, Mars is very active and assertive in demonstrating enthusiasm for all four types of energy. This is a very powerful position for Mars. 

You have an unrestricted drive to get projects done, to start new projects, and to act decisively. Your enthusiasm is contagious. An individualist with quite an ego, you always want to do things your way. Based on the influence of this planet taken by itself, you are not good at compromise or teamwork. There is a major part of you that always wants to charge out ahead of the pack and be the leader. Despite your apparent leadership abilities, you may function best when you are working alone and independently because of your demand to have your own way. If you are in a group, you will aspire to be the leader. Headstrong and independent, you won't tolerate opposition or interference and your temper can get you into trouble at times. Mars in Aries makes you very competitive in a variety of ways. This is perhaps the most courageous and enterprising Mars position.

You have a very strong sex drive which is spontaneous and easily aroused. Self-control can be a problems in this regard. As on the physical side, you are often unrestrained and very demanding emotionally.

The negative side of Mars in Aries is a lack of patience and discipline. Self-control and humility can be hard lessons, and often they are never mastered.

🐂 TAURUS MARS

Mars in Taurus denotes plenty of practical and emotional energy, while the physical side is often rather flat, and the interest in the intellectual is also a strain. 

The planet of energy is not very active in Taurus, as the physical drive is reduced to a low gear. You may lack thrust and mobility, but make up for this deficiency with outstanding endurance. You are obstinate in many ways, yet practical, determined and very stable. You pursue your material goals with intent determination. Results are based on dogged persevering after a course of action is determined. Once you finally get rolling in one direction, it is nearly impossible to change your course. In Taurus, the energies of Mars are indeed channeled into a practical mode that may center on acquiring money, creature comforts and material possessions. Much your energy is apt to be aimed at securing wealth and a very comfortable lifestyle. Patient and precise in all that you do, you are a natural crafts person and the fruit of your efforts is likely to produce a quality product.

Also high on your list of priorities is the satisfying of physical desires. You are very sensual and sexual partner. Your approach to sex is straightforward and uncomplicated, without fantasies or fetishes; never rushed or over-anxious. Emotionally stable, you are apt to be a devoted and loyal partner.

The negative side of Mars in Taurus is often the lack of flexibility. Taurus is a fixed sign and energies expressed here sometimes come out looking like stubbornness. Even emotions can be held on to too tightly and then released with a major blow up.

👭 GEMINI MARS

In Gemini, Mars produces mental assertiveness and mental energies are highest here. As wonderful as this seems, on the practical side, you may be somewhat lacking, and emotionally, this placement is prone to big swings and is best defined as erratic. 

You have an active and critical mind that may be inclined toward going off in many directions at once. You love to debate and engage in all types of intellectual contests. A satirical wit is often a hallmark of this Mars in Gemini. Frequently, this placement attracts persons to careers as reporters, journalists and critics. Periodic job changes or handling a variety of jobs simultaneously, are not uncommon with this placement since there is much restlessness in your nature. Since so much energy is channeled into mental and verbal activity, you are apt to be quite a talker. You may make use of this strength by becoming a teacher, a lecturer, or a related field that takes advantage of your ability to express yourself. You pride yourself on your intelligence and verbal dexterity. To you, a person's worth is based on their intelligence, and you want to be respected as a formidable thinker.

Several of your romantic relationships may be superficial. You eagerly pursue new experiences in romance, but it may be difficult for you to remain constant to any one special partner. You're apt to be an incurable flirt. Your mind, however, is your most active erogenous zone.

Mars in Gemini is high-strung and produces much nervous energy, but it is lacking in physical vitality or endurance. There is a tendency for you to burn yourself out through stress and mental strain. You may need to force yourself to get more exercise as a way of balancing the physical with the mental.

🦀 CANCER MARS

In Cancer, the Mars energies are largely of the emotional sort. While physical endeavors and practical affairs may find the energy to function satisfactorily, mental energies are apt to struggle. 

This placement often causes actions to be tinged with a very sensitive flavor. You express your energies in a very emotional fashion. Much of the assertiveness of Mars is turned toward the domestic scene. There is a cautious side and much defensiveness in your nature. This placement of Mars is not very physical or competitive, and not inclined to any sort of combat, physical or mental. Mars in Cancer has a very positive side, as it often shows a quiet, peaceful nature. While being very protective of your "turf," you are never too assertive or demanding. In your work, you rarely compromise your views, and prefer working independently and in control of affairs. You are ambitious, and a hard worker. Since you are not, by nature, an aggressive person, you pursue your desires in a round-about or start-stop manner. You frequently change your direction and your goals. You strive for security, and a good deal of your energy goes into this effort. In this regard, you are fiercely protective of family, co-workers, organization, or to whatever you devote yourself. You may be known for the strength of your patriotism and loyalty.

Because of these strong moods and feelings, you are a very sexual and sensual person. You are also very loyal in relationships, and certainly demanding of the same from your partner. Infidelity threatens your sense of security and is therefore unacceptable.

There is an intensity of these emotions that often results in moodiness and discord in your domestic relations. Your digestion is strongly affected by your moods and feelings. With energies tied to feelings, you are prone to become very angry inside. If this anger is suppressed it can result in ulcers and stomach upset.

🦁 LEO MARS

Mars in Leo is noted for its physical energy, and it manages reasonably well in the mental and practical departments, as well. The ego and need for recognition make the emotional energy somewhat restrained. 

In Leo, Mars displays exceptional will-power and creativity. With this placement, you project an air of confidence, self-sufficiency, and vitality that cause people to sit up and take notice. Activity is expressed in a dramatic fashion, suggesting that you may be well suited for the stage. You love being on "center stage." You are confident in most roles before an audience. This position couples positive initiative, with stability and determination, producing excellent leadership qualities. You have a definite charismatic and gregarious flair. This also makes you a natural leader. Ambitious and maybe a little egotistic, you want to lead. You'll do whatever you need to do to be recognized and appreciated.

You take pride in your sexual prowess. Affectionate and physically demonstrative, you enjoy the drama and excitement of a passionate affair. As much as it bolsters your ego to have several sexual partners, you're constant in love while your partner pays plenty of attention to you and is devoted. In romance, jealousy and possessiveness are often by-products of this placement.

The strong, fixed opinions and the overbearing manner of this placement may often stir opposition. The pride and need to dominate others, often sets up a degree of stubborn egotism. Excessive pride can be your pitfall, if you haven't learned to control it. The emotional side of Mars in Leo can cause to you to periodically over-react with anger when affairs don't go your way.

♍ VIRGO MARS

In Virgo, Mars focuses its energy into the job, and thus, the energies are primarily practical and useful. This placement will also produce high or at least adequate mental energies, reasonable physical energies, but on the emotional side, there is a severe limit to the energy and the interest. 

As one possessing this placement, you are usually considered a very conscientious worker. Much of your energy go into careful planning before you charge ahead on any project. When you do act, it's usually based on practical reasons, with every detail carefully thought out. You are highly critical, and very exacting in all that you do; in many respects, the perfectionist and the organizer. Painstaking and dedicated in your work, you may lack imagination and innovation, but never attention to detail. In the work place, you can be a difficult person because you are so particular about everything being done correctly. But indeed, you are the one that can be depended on to get the job done right.

Virgo is associated with the health fields. Doctors, surgeons, nurses and social workers often have Mars placed here. There is much associated with this placement that involves helping people. You may be especially concerned with helping the sick and handicapped. You need to feel needed, and you can be very tireless in such a role.

Mars, the indicator of passions, is not very passionate in Virgo. Your sex drive may be strong, but your willingness to express it can be somewhat weak. Sometimes Mars in Virgo can even be a bit puritanical. You also may be a little bit afraid of letting your passions loose, and even be critical of those that do.

The negative side of Mars in Virgo may be the sometimes lack of tolerance. It's hard for you to get emotionally worked up over anything, but you can be very demanding of yourself and others. This placement often holds force and aggressiveness in check, releasing it as irritability and nervous habits. And finally, you have to be careful not to become the classic workaholic for this is a real possibility with Mars in Virgo.

⚖ LIBRA MARS

In Libra, Mars is curtailed by the rules of social behavior and the need for the cooperation and approval. Energies are very controlled and overwhelmingly favor the mental. A reasonable degree of physical energies may also be present, but this is not what this placement is noted for. Emotional and practical energies are usually rather low, if noticeable at all. 

You are charming, generous, amiable, and cooperative owing to the persuasiveness of Mars in Libra. The normal assertive behavior of Mars is tamed down in Libra, and passions are never allowed to rule thinking. Yet you can become upset when your perception of justice is not served. You aren't one to push matters to extremes, but you do become very assertive when you experience injustice. You are ready to take up arms against anything that would destroy harmony, or that appears wrong or unfair. Your objective, unemotional approach could enable you to be a good judge, manager, or diplomat. 

You are likely and wise to select a very assertive and energetic partner. You may need someone to push you along, as Mars can be somewhat lazy in Libra. You often need motivation. Though you are never pushy or very forceful, you do exert gentle and continuous efforts toward a solid relationship. Although you are very affectionate and romantic, your sex drive is somewhat low, and you expect more emotional satisfaction than physical passion. 

You are not the type of person who goes after what you want with much conviction. You have difficulty asserting yourself at times, and it can be hard for you to be decisive. Aggression in any form threatens you, and you don't deal well with confrontations, arguments, or physical combativeness. You want to make friends, not adversaries. 

🦂 SCORPIO MARS 

In Scorpio, Mars displays powerful emotions and desires. Mental, physical, and practical energies are are, likewise, also very high. Indeed, the level of energy with this placement is high in all respects. 

You are strong, self-reliant, extremely efficient, and highly self-disciplined. An intensity of purpose surrounds all that you undertake. This position illustrates the "do or die" principle very well. You may have an innate ability to transform other people in some significant way. You think of yourself as a "take control" person and a force to be reckoned with. You probably are.

Intensely passionate and sensual, you put much of your energy into sex. You are apt to be especially attractive to the opposite sex, whether or not you physically attractive. You may be fascinated with sexuality in all its expressions, certainly your interest is always keen. You're jealous and possessive of your sexual partners. Being trustworthy yourself, you expect the same from others. You're a loyal friend, or a bitter enemy, you never forget a betrayal.

Slow to anger, you rarely loose control, but when your ire is raised, you get even, and you can do so with frightening detachment. Proud, dignified, strong-willed, and stubborn, you have the sort of presence that is always felt by others even when you say nothing.

🏹 SAGITTARIUS MARS

Mars in Sagittarius produces some of the highest levels of physical energy and enthusiasm. The mental and emotional side seems to function fine as well, but unfortunately, this is not the most practical of Mars positions.

In Sagittarius, Mars often produces strong philosophic convictions. You are one to stand up and fight for any cause you believe in. The sense of justice is very strong. Your idealistic motives always seek to be improving society and those individuals in your immediate environment. 

You are an outspoken debater, often lacking diplomacy or appreciation of the opinions of opponents. Nonetheless, your ever-cheerful presence makes you welcome in any social gathering. For you it is unrestricted freedom at all cost, with rhythm and tempo that comes naturally to you. You are a person with a zest for adventure and having a good time. You have trouble sitting still for very long, and you want to be on the move physically. 

The hallmark of this position is the feeling that you are invincible. Your irrepressible confidence and optimism usually gets you through tough times. You may have been born under a lucky star. You often succeed because you don't think much about failing. In many respects you are a born gambler.

Mars in Sagittarius is not known for being particularly constant in love relationships. You approach sex as though it was a sport, and it's hard to tie you down to one person. You may be afraid of serious love affairs and being "trapped" in a relationship. This is a position that really likes sex, but at times can be too bold or crude in asking for it.

The negative of this position is a lack of endurance and consistency. Because your attention span is so short, and your interests are so many, you start many projects, but often fail to finish them. And even when you do get finished, the work can be a little sloppy. You have a tendency to scatter your energies and try to take on too much at one time.

🐐 CAPRICORN MARS

In Capricorn, the energies of Mars are channeled into the arena of personal attainment, and thus, the practical energy is highest here. Physical and Mental energies are sufficient, too, but emotionally, this placement may lack spark. 

You are hard-working, very determined. Since much of your energy is focused on your career, you have a tendency to become something of a workaholic. There is a drive to satisfy professional ambitions. This is likely to manifest with innate managerial skills and good old-fashioned common sense. You have strong material urges, but even stronger is the need to get status and recognition. To attain these ends, you use your energy in very practical and profitable ways. You have little use for laziness or a lack of ambition.

Your sex drive is strong and you have a full appreciation of sensual pleasures. It's likely you conceal most of these feelings behind a stiff and conservative demeanor. Your public image is very dignified and reserved. It is as though you feel you must always be in control of yourself and your emotions. Mars in Capricorn is known for the ability to retain sexual vitality until very late in life. In these later years, you are apt to be less restrained than in your youth.

Your weakness in the action department is the tendency to be too cautious and skeptical. You are apt to miss some real opportunities on this account. You have difficulty breaking out of old habit patterns and you are slow to pick up on new ideas. Somewhat pessimistic, you go looking for problems and expecting the worst. You take responsibility seriously, often too seriously.

🌊 AQUARIUS MARS

In Aquarius, the energies of Mars are focused on intellectual pursuits, and therefore, mental energies are highest here. While Mars is focused on theory here, practical energies are usually found in adequate levels. The physical and emotional sides may struggle a little when Mars is in Aquarius. 

The placement suggests the presence of very high principles and a modern outlook. You are concerned with the world of ideas, particularly those of an unconventional or progressive nature. Here the powers are independent, aggressive and enterprising.

You have good organizing abilities and calculated direction. You are a very good leader who can meet challenges with serenity and poise. Aquarius is a fixed sign and you are stubborn most of the time. If you believe in something, you put the idea forward with the zeal of an evangelist. You think of yourself as open-minded; willing to discuss the issues. Yet your discussions often get to be heated arguments, and you rarely give in to an opposing view. You can never work well under authoritarian direction, being one who is always out to upset the establishment. You are an active reformer with little respect for traditional ways. You can even be contemptuous of tradition unless it is substantiated with logic. You demand the freedom to speak frankly, and operate in your way.

Like the many other aspects of your life, sexually you are intrigued by anything new or unconventional. For you, variety is the spice of life. Yet somehow you are usually stable and dependable once you have found a mate.

The negative side of Mars in Aquarius resides in nonconformity. Indeed, you tend to lecture more than discuss, and you tend to demand compliance with your agenda. Your way is sometimes way out of the ordinary. At the same time, your energies are apt to produce more thought than action. You are the rebellious type, and you can become very impatient.

🐟 PISCES MARS

In Pisces, Mars produces emotions that are unpredictable and often intense. Emotional energy is high, sometimes too high. Mentally, Mars in Pisces does well, but on the physical and practical side, this placement often comes up short. 

The strength of Mars in Pisces is found in the arts. You may find yourself very much attracted to music and the arts. You may relate to many of the world's fine artists who need the isolation and introspection so much a part of this placement. You have a natural sensitivity to color, tone and rhythm that may be of benefit to you in artistic endeavors.

In this sign, Mars responds in a confused manner. Assertive action is drowned in this sign that is so receptive, emotional, sensitive, and even psychic. The result of the placement is often a quiet exterior, but with much restlessness inside. Physical strength is rare with this position. Resentment runs high. Excessive emotions are a constant problem and a good deal of solitude is frequently necessary to sort matters out. Mars in Pisces has trouble asserting itself, and it is likely that you are somewhat shy and withdrawn.

Action is expressed in "behind the scenes" roles where you can work with subtlety, and your naturally intuitive sensitivity. Much of your attitude stems from your keen sensitivity to the feelings of others. You clearly know what the other person is feeling, and therefore you are always ready to render assistance to those who are most in need. You are apt to express the energies of Mars most actively in support of the defenseless or the underprivileged. In this regard, Mars in Pisces is often found in fields such as psychology and medicine.

Mars in Pisces is not a highly sexed sign. Certainly, you are romantic, but in order for you to be satisfied, the greater need is emotional rather than physical. You're very idealistic about love and relationships. In many ways, you view of sexual matters is more like a fantasy with such high expectations that it is rarely achieved in real life.

[writerofshit]

(I mentioned briefly a story of how the Stream Team met. This is that story.)

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the late night hours of a Tuesday, a convenience store is robbed. So is one several blocks southeast. And one roughly in the middle of them both. After all, what's more convenient than 24 hour chili dogs on every other street corner?

Cash. Cash is more convenient. So are guns. Hollering, waving one to get the other. Most important, back alleys that twist and turn, snaking away from increasingly distant sirens. Three individuals find themselves running through these alleys, a couple grand each weighing their pockets down.

It's through serendipity and convenience that their paths cross.

The man from the farthest store arrives first. He's done this a few more times than he'd like to admit, so he'd had a plan. Of sorts. Cut through the park, take a few sidewalks like an upstanding citizen, under the bridge and find a fire escape to utilize from there. There aren't any that reach the ground, of course, because he's smart but not quite enough.

And so this is why Trevor is standing in an dark alley, contemplating whether or not the dumpster will give him enough height to reach the ladder, when the man from the middle store appears. He's around Trevor's height, but would probably win in a fight between them, if he were so inclined. He doesn't seem to be, though. He seems shaken, like he's not quite sure how he ended up in this alley. He's holding a gun almost gingerly, as if it might bite him.

Trevor pulls his own gun.

'dont you fuckin' try anything!'

This does not go over well with Matt. He takes a step back, and then seems to remember that he also has a gun so maybe this is even footing. He holds it aloft, finger nowhere near the trigger.

'same, asshole!'

At this moment the robber from the first store arrives, also, of course, with a gun. And a mask. And an entire purple and orange neon fucking suit, actually, topped with a white cowboy hat. It gives them a few extra inches of height they are distinctly lacking, comparatively. Somewhere in the back of his head, Trevor acknowledges that this newcomer could probably kick his and the other gunman's asses. It is not a pleasant thought.

'oh, what the fuck!?'

Jeremy sounds more annoyed and less scared than one would think, considering they've run into an alley only to find two men with guns. Two men who quickly turn those guns on them.

'who the fuck are you?'

The question surprises them all, including Matt, even though he's the one who asked. As it turns out, people have a tendency to say the first thing that comes to mind when in a stressful situation. Such as, having robbed a convenience store for the very first time and immediately finding himself face to face with other apparent robbers. It would get to anyone, probably.

'i don't want any trouble, but i've already robbed someone tonight and i don't give a shit about felony murder!'

Two lies and a truth, is what Trevor has chosen to play, for some reason. In reality, one does not rob a convenience store at gun point if one is intent on staying out of trouble. And he does, in fact, care very deeply about felony murder. Felony murder is the precise reason he'd shot a bag of Doritos and not a clerk. In his defense, the clerk had initially rolled her eyes at him, asked what exactly he thought he'd get out of this. He'd found this question rude.

The truth, of course, is that he did rob a convenience store. That did happen. No take backs.

'so did i!'

Matt and Jeremy speak so in unison it's almost scary. If they didn't know any better, they'd think the two of them had always known each other.

Trevor's gun wavers between them, unsure which is the bigger threat. The guy who clearly has zero experience with guns, or the weirdo who seems to have far too much? It's a toss up, really. So his aim pinballs back and forth, but his finger does not curl around the trigger. He's serious about that felony murder thing.

The air seems to shift, suddenly, and the sound of sirens is now growing closer. This evidently also annoys Jeremy, and they throw a glance over their shoulder to the direction they'd come from. Red and blue lights flicker past.

'shit. ok. we're all robbers, i guess, and we're all fucked if we keep standing here. who's got a plan?'

Jeremy's eyes are staring impatiently at Trevor. Eyes being the only part of their face Trevor can see. And their hands, a plastic bag in one and a gun in the other.

Trigger finger is an apt name.

He glances at Matt, still wild eyed and glancing back and forth. No, Matt probably does not have a plan. He sort of gives the impression that he's never had a plan ever, actually. That perhaps he'd simply woken up here and decided to wing it. So Trevor makes an offer.

'fire escape?'

There's another moment of tense silence. Well, minus the sirens. And oh, helicopters. Even better. Jeremy shrugs.

'good a plan as any.'

And then they're off, brushing past Trevor and hoisting themself up onto the dumpster. He knew it could work. Trevor blinks and Jeremy has caught the ladder, is quickly working their way up. Shit, how does five foot something manage to get that high on a good day, much less in this situation and with a bag and gun in hand?

Matt's gun clatters to the ground, and honestly, that's probably for the best. He's climbing onto the dumpster now, and he mutters something about not signing up for this shit. Trevor reminds him that he apparently robbed someone, so yeah, he kind of did.

Before Trevor climbs up, he shoves his gun into his jacket pocket. Smart? Probably not. Convenient? More so than climbing with a gun in his hand. He follows Matt up the ladder, wondering what happened to his plan. Yeah, the ladder had been involved. Two other people, however, were not.

Above them, glass shatters.

'warning, maybe!?'

'oops. careful, there's glass.'

Jeremy's voice is no longer directly above them. Instead, it comes from one story up and a little to the left. So they've broken into an apartment. Sure, add breaking and entering to the list of charges, that sounds great. But Matt and Trevor follow, because there's not really another option.

Inside the apartment, Jeremy's mask is gone. The suit is quickly disappearing as well, revealing a rather boring outfit of a white tank top and...sweatpants? The true mystery lies in where the cowboy hat has gone to, because that's a hard item to miss.

'do we really have time for this? don't you think someone might, oh, i don't know, wake up and call the cops?'

Trevor doesn't mean to hiss, it's just that he's sure there's more pressing matters to attend to than an outfit change. Continuing to flee, perhaps.

'nobody's gonna wake up.'

They don't even have the wherewithal to lower their voice. It registers to Trevor that Jeremy's bag and gun are missing as well. Had they dropped them on the way up? It was certainly possible. Trevor thinks he would have noticed a gun flying past his head, but there's a lot going on.

'can we maybe not kill anyone? he brought up a good point with that felony murder thing.'

It's the most words Matt has strung together since he'd shown up. It's damn near a whisper, but at least it's progress.

'i'm not- god, can you two shut up? i gotta make a phone call.'

Jeremy yanks the door open, hand carefully wrapped in the fabric of their shirt. For a moment, Trevor thinks they're leaving and steps forward to follow Jeremy. Instead, Jeremy turns and heads toward the kitchen, pulling open a drawer and digging inside it briefly. They come back with a cell phone.

Something dawns on Trevor.

'is this- do you live here? did you break your own window?'

Jeremy doesn't answer. They put the phone to their ear.

'you're gonna wanna hide whatever you've got. and try not to look like you just climbed in through a window.'

And then-

'hello? yes, hi, i'd like to report a break in, i think? i was hearing a bunch of sirens and then i don't know what happened but some guy just broke my window? he ran through and i just- my friends and i are really scared and we didn't know what to do- yes, we're ok, he's gone, but we- you'll send someone? ok, thank you. the address? oh, uh, it's the del perro heights building, apartment 7. should i shut the door? no, don't touch anything. ok- guys, don't touch anything, she said someone's on their way to check on us! thank you so much- no, i think we'll be fine. thank you.'

It's a marvelous performance. Jeremy genuinely sounds like some poor flustered victim of a crime. Trevor would applaud if he thought Jeremy would appreciate it. Almost immediately, their voice is back to normal.

'check things out my ass. they're gonna show up, ask which way he went and never call me again. feel real fuckin safe.'

Jeremy settles themself onto the couch, choosing the spot closest to the door. Matt, who has apparently gotten over his initial terror, wanders into the kitchen. Searching for something to distract himself, if Trevor had to guess. Trevor is still standing in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded. How did a simple robbery become hanging out with other robbers, waiting for cops to show up?

'i'm jeremy, by the way. they won't ask, but y'know. just in case.'

They're flipping channels on the tv, seeming to arbitrarily skip almost a dozen programs. Finally, they settle on one and stand. Trevor recognizes it as an old Disney movie, and desperately wants to ask why the fuck Jeremy has put this on.

'uh, hi. i'm trevor. why are we watching Mulan?'

'matt. oh hell yeah, i love this movie!'

He sounds remarkably cheerful, considering the circumstances. How Trevor had seemingly switched places with Anxious McGee is beyond him. He needs to get it together. He pulls his gun from his pocket and takes it to the kitchen, sticking it in the drawer Jeremy had taken the phone from. There are several other phones of varying price point. He steps back to the living room just in time.

'that's why.'

They don't elaborate. Apparently Trevor is meant to just figure this out on his own, which ordinarily he might be able to do. After the course of events of this particular evening? Not a chance.

But he can't ask, because now there's a cop in the doorway and he's staring at Trevor and that will never be a good thing. Trevor stares back. He has no clue what he's meant to say. Hello? Welcome? He went that way?

'oh thank god! we've been so terrified, we didn't know if he'd come back or what he'd do.'

Naturally, Jeremy has taken lead on this. They're a phenomenal actor, Trevor has to admit.

'did you see which direction he went?'

'toward the stairs, i think. we've all been rooted to the spot, you know, it's so scary-'

Matt freezes in the doorway of the kitchen. He's just out of the view from the front door.

'right, well. you boys did the right thing by calling. can you give me a description of the man?'

The corner of Jeremy's mouth quirks.

'gosh, it all just happened so fast. taller than me, probably, but shorter than you, wouldn't you say, trey?'

Trevor nods, because he's not quite sure what else to do.

'alright, thank you. someone will be in touch with you for an official statement. in the meantime, if you remember anything else don't hesitate to call.'

He's holding a card out to Trevor, of all people. He takes it carefully, like if he does it wrong somehow the guy will know and arrest them all. The card is simply the number for a tip line.

As suddenly as he'd arrived, the cop is gone and they're all breathing sighs of relief. Jeremy closes the door.

'you guys can stay for Mulan, if you want.'

So they do.

Trevor asks about why Mulan again, and Jeremy explains that they assume most people have seen it, could answer any questions about it if they came up. Perhaps, if LSPD officers were less incompetent, they would have. Although if that were the case, they wouldn't be LSPD officers at all.

Matt asks about the window, and Jeremy says yes, they did break their own window. Of course they'd had an actual plan when they'd entered the alley. They were always going to end up exactly here, give or take the extras. Asking for a plan was simply a test, determining the merit in bring them along. They'd passed.

Jeremy asks if they want to stay for Mulan II, which is apparently up next. They do.

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the early morning hours of a Wednesday, three convenience stores are recovering from three separate robberies. Right in the middle of them all, their respective robbers are sitting on a couch together, watching a straight to video children's film.

It is the beginning of something far greater than any of them can imagine.

[yeenybeanies]

INTRO: Clayton Hess

just some quick info to clear things up: this is a world wherein humans & human-sized things exist, but also centaurs exist, & centaurs are huge. this is normal. well... semi-normal. humans and giantfolk don't tend to interact much. but!! this is my first piece with my big centaur boy clay posting here as promised! one day late smh you can find this piece and others on my patreon!

OCS | clayton hess

5,671 words

no warnings

thanks for reading!

Before the sun had even risen, there was much activity on the floor of the towering megaforest. People scrambled about at the mouth of the path leading further in, calling out to each other, distributing supplies, reigning in their horses, calming their dogs. Everyone moved with an urgent, anxious energy.

“O’Rourke! All teams are ready to depart.”

The old man, O’Rourke, lifted his eyes first to the horizon, and then to the one addressing him. His fluffy, grey eyebrows stayed fixed, knitted in a stern, stony frown. “Good. Stay ready, ladies and gentlemen. As soon as that sun rises, we’re going in.”

“You said that we had one more joining us?” The same person, a woman named Sanouk, looked to the teams of people assembled around her. “Who are they going with?”

“Yeah, he said he’d be here.” O’Rourke continued to watch the sky, noting the changing colors. The pinks and purples were gradually bleeding into oranges and yellows. Dawn was almost over. “Don’t worry about placing him. He’s gonna be going on his own.”

Sanouk eyed him skeptically. “Why? We already have one missing girl to find in this megaforest; we don’t need to lose anyone else. He could go with Team Fou––. . ..” Her words trailed off, her attention suddenly occupied with something else. First she felt it in the ground: a low rumbling, almost like a faint earthquake; then she heard it as a steadily-growing thunder.

O’Rourke shook his head and waved off her concerns. “I don’t think he’ll be getting lost. He knows these woods like the back of his hand.”

“But––but that’s–-” Sanouk tried to speak, but her rising concern over the thundering and the quaking kept cutting her off. O’Rourke could see the worry on her face, and on the faces of everyone else present, but he chose not to address it. All questions would be answered momentarily.

The disturbance sounded like a landslide. It had not only the people nervous, but the dogs and horses as well. A few high-strung beasts reared up and hollered their concern, while others fidgeted anxiously. The noise crescendoed, then abruptly quieted to a slower, rhythmic thumping. Concern in the gathering turned to confusion. Still, O’Rourke looked unbothered.

All attention snapped to a rustling in the dense foliage lining the path’s mouth. Alarmed gasps and yelps rang out as the source of the disturbance––the rustling, the rumbling, the quaking––pushed his way through the trees and stepped into view. Dogs barked, horses whinnied, and a good many people retreated several feet away from the newcomer.

The two most notable things about this newcomer were his enormous size, and his four very equine legs––and equine body from the waist down. He was a centaur. From under the wide brim of his hat, he surveyed the crowd, noting the fear in many a human and beast.

“Mr. Hess!” O’Rourke removed his hat and waved it, drawing the newcomer’s attention. “Good morning! Glad you could join us.” The old man strode forward, through the still nervous crowd.

“Morning,” the centaur said, his voice unexpectedly, and intentionally soft. He remained where he was, neither wanting to scare the crowd more, nor risk getting any of them underhoof.

O’Rourke stopped a few yards away from the centaur and turned around to face the crowd. He waved an arm up. “Everyone, this is Clayton Hess. As you can see, he’s a centaur, so be sure to keep out of his way. He’ll be helping us in searching for that little girl. Sanouk––” He beckoned the woman to step forward, which she did after some hesitation, “––if  you’ll please give him a quick rundown of the plan, then we can be on our way.”

Sanouk stared up at Clay, her mouth agape. Clay paid it no mind, being quite used to the range of emotions humans felt whenever they first saw him. He took a couple of steps backwards and slowly lowered himself onto the ground, legs tucked neatly under him, out of the way. From there, he leaned forward, arms folded behind his back.

“Morning, Miss,” he said with a polite dip of his head. “I hope I can be of some help in finding––”

“Mani Sanouk,” she interrupted, her hand extended out to him. She moved stiffly, clearly uneasy.

Clay blinked, one brow raised. This wasn’t the first time a human had offered to “shake his hand,” but it was still an unusual gesture. Not wanting to be rude, however, he brought around one hand and, moving deliberately slow, offered his pinky to meet her. “Just ‘Clay’ is fine. Pleasure to meet you.”

Sanouk went rigid at his hand’s approach, so much so that Clay could feel her tension when they made contact. She was a tough woman, though; she held onto her nerve through their “handshake,” and didn’t flinch at his retreat.

“You as well. Here’s a map that shows . . . er . . ..” As she pulled said map from her satchel, Sanouk frowned. It was a rather large map in her hands, but, to a truly behemoth being like Clay, it was no bigger than a business card. “Erm, right. Teams One and Two will be covering these sections,” she said, pointing to the marked areas. “Three and four will be covering these sections.”

Clay squinted at the map. He couldn’t quite make out all of the writing, but the marked sections were clear enough. “Understood. I’ll cover those four sections to the East.”

“Four of them?” Sanouk’s head snapped up to meet his eyes. “That is a lot of ground. Are you sure you’re going to be able to––” she paused mid-sentence, reconsidering her question and the being she was talking to. Clay allowed himself some amusement and a faint smile.

“I might be able to cover more, depending on when and where we’re rendezvousing.”

“Right . . .. Right. Okay.” She looked back down to the map and pointed to a river bend. “We will all meet back at this bend in Joyelette’s River at noon. That will give each team about five hours to search their sections. Do you know who we are looking for?”

“I do,” the centaur said with a nod. “O’Rourke printed me a picture and gave me all the information I needed.”

Sanouk returned the nod and stowed her map once more. “Then we are good to start.”

Clay gave the woman a moment to step back, then pushed himself off of the ground and rose to his full, towering height. “I’ll head out first. Best of luck to all of you. Let’s find this girl.” He tipped his hat to the crowd, then turned and started off on the trail into the giant forest. Once he was several yards away, he could hear the other groups slowly filtering in behind him. Their horses and dogs still made nervous noises, but he figured they’d calm once he was out of sight.

It was always interesting to see how humans and animals that had never encountered a centaur before reacted to him.

                                                                        – – –

By ten o’clock, the forest had changed dramatically. The sun hung high in the sky, beating down on the landscape below. It was hot and humid, almost muggy. Birds swooped around Clay’s head, snatching up insects from the tiny swarm that he’d accumulated. While most of the insects were too small to actually bother him, there were still the occasional few that managed to make a nuisance of themselves. They had his ears flicking, his tail swishing. He lamented silently to himself for not bringing some sort of repellant.

“Pauline!” he called, his voice echoing amongst the trees. He tempered his yell, not wanting to scare the girl, but wanting to be heard, should she be around. “Pauline Kelly! Are you there?”

Silence. Clay sighed, his ears drooping momentarily. This wasn’t his first rescue mission, nor would it be his last; he was familiar with the monotony and the frustrating silence after every call.

Sometimes the missing person was found. Sometimes they weren’t.

He hoped, for this little girl’s sake, she would be found. It wasn’t just exposure that could kill out here. Megaforests were not meant for humans, let alone for human children. Like the massive trees and the greenery, the fauna in here were gargantuan in their own right. Most of the larger creatures wouldn’t pay mind to a human; it was the smaller ones––relatively speaking––that worried Clay more.

Clay stopped in his tracks, stiff, ears pricked. A scream. A scream broke the silence.

“Pauline? Pauline!” The centaur called out. “Pauline, can you hear me?”

“Help!”

There! Clay’s head snapped in the direction of the scream. Turning quick on his hooves, he leapt into a gallop. “Pauline! I’m coming!” From the sounds of things, she couldn’t be too far away. He raced through the foliage, running so fast that he might as well have been flying. The girl screamed again, making the centaur skid to a halt and reassess his direction. He looked around desperately, feeling his anxiety rising.

There!

Atop a fallen log, a bear-sized, reptilian creature dug at the rotting wood with its claws. Another scream rang out, a little muffled. Clay gritted his teeth and rushed the lizard. Upon spotting him, it puffed up and hissed, but its threats were no match for his own. He halted before the log and reared up on his hind legs, forehooves kicking, promising something far deadlier than anything it could offer in return. Fighting a full-grown centaur was not worth whatever meal it could have made of the girl. It quickly deflated and skittered away, nearly losing its footing in its haste to avoid Clay’s punishment. Only once it disappeared into the underbrush and vanished from all his senses did Clay turn his eyes to the log, his expression softening.

“Pauline?” Carefully he approached the log, ears angled towards it. Quiet sniffles and whimpers came from within. Clay rested a hand atop the log and peered in through the hole the lizard was digging at. There, backed into a little nook, sat the girl from the picture––the girl they were all looking for. Dirt caked her skin, and her clothes looked torn. He couldn’t see much else of her physical state, but she was alive. Relief overcame the centaur.

Unfortunately, that relief was short-lived. The girl, upon looking up and seeing Clay’s massive face staring down at her, let out an ear-splitting shriek. Clay flinched, ears swiveling backwards to try and dampen the noise. His hands shot up in a placating gesture, though it only made the girl scream again.

“Miss Pauline––please! I’m here to help you. If you could just come out––awh––!”

The girl scrambled out of view. Clay bit back a frustrated groan and tried to catch sight of her again. From the sounds of things, she was crawling deeper into the log.

By the skies, it would have been better if one of the human groups had found her. She was, understandably, terrified of him. It was going to be a challenge to get her out of the log. He could tear it open, but that would just scare the little one even more, and could potentially harm her. He’d save that as a last resort.

Clay sighed. He rubbed his temples, digging under his hat. With a heavy thud, the centaur sat down on his haunches. He figured he might be here for a while.

“I know you’re scared, dearheart. You’ve been in this forest for two days, probably seen some frightening critters like that lizard. Probably hungry n’ thirsty. Tired too.” He opted not to say as much, but Clay figured that the girl would not have survived another night in the megaforest. She was lucky to have made it this long.

“My name’s Clay,” he continued. He kept his voice soft, hoping that he might be able to soothe her. “I know I’m big, and I’m kinda scary-looking, like everything else in these woods. But your Ma and Pa––Mr. Marty and Mrs. Lana Kelly––they’re both real’ worried about you. They sent me and a bunch of other people out here to look for you.”

The sniffling was softer now. Clay had to strain his hearing to catch it. He wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign. He listened, silently willing the girl to give him something––any sort of sign that he was getting somewhere with her.

“Y-you… know my mom and dad?” came the small voice after a long silence. Clay’s ears flicked up. Oh, in this moment, her voice was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.

“Er––yes. I know them.” Or rather, he knew of them. It didn’t matter right now. “They’ve got a whole lot of us combing these woods for you, Miss Pauline. They miss you bunches, want you to come home.”

The girl went silent again, much to Clay’s alarm. He stood up again and tried to spot her within the log. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at her the first time; he could only guess her condition. Was she injured? Had he been too late in chasing off that lizard? He couldn’t smell any blood, but maybe–––

Wait. The girl was on the move again, picking her way through the log’s hollow interior. Clay followed the sound with ears and eyes as she climbed down towards the lower end. Though he was tempted to meet her down there, he decided that it was best to remain still and let her come to him.

Hopefully she wouldn’t run when she saw him.

Once she reached the opening at the bottom––likely the same opening she’d entered the log through––Pauline timidly peeked around the jagged wood. Wide eyes first found the centaur’s giant hooves, then followed up his forelegs, his torso, and way, way up to his face, where he stared right back down at her. She shrank away upon meeting his gaze, but didn’t break eye contact. Clay felt a pang in his hearts.

“That’s it, dearheart,” he said, his voice as soft as he could manage without outright whispering. “You’re so brave. Can you come a little closer so I can see you better?”

Pauline shook her head quickly. It didn’t surprise Clay.

“Okay… that’s fine. I’m gonna sit down, alright? Don’t go nowhere.” He waited a moment for a response, and continued on when he got none. Slowly, and keeping his hands where the girl could see them, Clay got down onto his foreknees, and then dropped his hocks. The girl flinched, but didn’t run.

“Alright now. I know you’re scared, little one. I understand. But I promise, I ain’t gonna hurt you.” Pauline just continued to stare up at him. Sitting down did cut nearly a third of his height, but Clay still towered a good sixty feet over the girl. He did his best not to loom, impossible as it was.

He told her more about himself, about how he’d come into these woods many times to find lost humans, about how he liked to grow fruits and raise bees. He asked her some questions, too––some of which she even answered. Some of them, he already knew the answers too. Pauline Kelly was seven years old, an older sister, and she’d just had a birthday when she went missing. What he learned was that her favorite color was blue––like the color of his shirt, she liked to fingerpaint, and she thought his hair was pretty. That last point, wholly unprompted, caught the centaur off-guard.

“You like my hair?”

Pauline nodded. “Mhm.” She looked a little less scared now, and stood where Clay could better see her. Thankfully, save for some minor scrapes and bruises, she looked unharmed.

Clay pushed his hat backwards off his head, letting it fall and catch on the string around his neck. Black and grey locks spiked out at odd angles, only partially tamed with a swipe of his hand.

“You wanna touch it?”

His offer had the girl pause. She regarded him nervously, looking between his face, his hair, his hands, and… down at his tail. Clay followed her gaze. That could be a good first step. She could reach his tail on her own. He swished it around so the long hair, the same black and grey as was on his head, was closer, and more in his view.

“Go on ahead. I won’t move none,” he encouraged. Pauline hesitated, clearly debating with herself. Eventually, her curiosity won the debate. Though she remained wary of Clay, glancing up at him every other second, she shuffled out from the log’s shelter. She gave him a wide berth as she circled over to his tail. Even when she stood a mere foot from him, she paused. An approving nod from Clay granted her the last bit of encouragement she needed to sit down on her knees and run her hands over the dark locks.

Clay’s tail was kempt, for a farmer. He combed it and kept it neatly trimmed without sacrificing its purpose. Even still, the hair was coarse and wiry, as was the case with all centaur tails and manes. That didn’t seem to bother Pauline, though. She rubbed chunks of hair between her hands, combed her fingers through it, and even twisted a few locks into tiny braids. Then she stood up and moved closer to his hind hoof––the white-socked one. Clay watched her carefully, but remained still, wanting neither to spook her nor hurt her. She knocked her little fists against the tough, cream nail, and then the metal shoe underneath.

“Did this hurt?” She asked. For the moment, there was more wonder in her eyes than fear.

“Hm? The shoe? Naw, that didn’t hurt none. Barely felt it when I had them put in.”

Pauline moved on from the hoof and dared to step even closer, right up to his side. Clay leaned over to better keep an eye on her. She dusted her hands––what a polite girl––and raised them to feel the short, tan fur along his flank. It too was pretty coarse, though it was a bit softer than his tail.

“It’s a lot softer up here,” Clay offered, startling the girl. Her head whipped up to meet his gaze. She looked a little bewildered, as though she’d forgotten that he was alive and present. He pointed to his head of hair. “Softest you’ll find on a centaur. And I take real’ good care of mine.” He gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

Immediately, the girl’s nervousness returned. “Um…”

Clay twisted his upper body to better face her. He brought one hand down to the ground a few feet away from her, palm up, fingers flat. “Promise I won’t hurt you, Miss Pauline.”

She stared at his hand, once again debating with herself. Clay waited patiently, watching her, willing to accept if she didn’t want to come to him immediately. They still had another hour or so before the rendezvous at the river. So long as no danger came along, he would use that time to gain her trust. It’d make things easier for the both of them. The girl deserved to feel safe after two days of being lost in a megaforest.

With an understandable amount of hesitancy, Pauline drew nearer to Clay’s hand. Like she had his tail and his hoof, she first inspected it. Next to him, the girl was miniscule. From fingertip to wrist, his hand was longer than most humans were tall. With her, his pinky finger exceeded her in height. She gave the pad of his index finger an experimental prod, and flinched when it twitched in response. Clay offered a quick apology. It seemed to reassure her, if only a little. She put her hands to his finger again, feeling over the whorls and the callouses. Clays hands, though gentle, were not soft. They were the hands of a working man, rough and weathered..

It took the girl a few more minutes of touching and feeling, and a little bit more encouragement from Clay, before she felt confident enough to step up onto his hand. She took a few unsteady steps over his fingers, finding it a little unusual and difficult to walk on such a squishy surface. Where his fingers met his palm, she lost her balance and fell onto her knees with a yelp. Clay fought back the urge to cup his hand around her.

“You’re okay, dearheart. Why don’t you sit down in the middle right there, hunh? Get yourself comfortable.”

Pauline, finding that to be a good idea, did as told and sat herself cross-legged in the center of his palm. She planted her hands to either side of her for balance. Smart girl. Once she settled, his fingers curled in around her, not enough to enclose her, but to make a barrier to keep her from falling. She sat in nervous silence, glancing at her surroundings. Slowly, carefully, Clay lifted his hand from the ground. The girl tensed, but made no sound as he brought her up to eye level. It was even more obvious now how small she was compared to him.

Up close, Clay could get a better look at her. Her clothes were dirty and torn in places, she had a layer of dirt and mud caking her skin, and her arms and legs had a good many abrasions. Overall, though, she looked fine. Stressed and ready to get home to her parents, but fine.

Her sniffling snapped Clay out of his silent observation. He blinked twice and regarded the girl inquisitively. She’d begun shaking in his hand, and little tears pooled in her eyes.

“Now now, Miss Pauline. You’ve gotten this far. You can be brave for a bit longer.” A warm smile spread across his lips. She was a cute little girl. Tough, too. If she weren’t so terrified, the centaur might have given her a little nuzzle. Instead, though, he’d give her what she was promised for her bravery. Clay brought the girl closer and tipped his head forward, letting his forelocks hang closer to her. He closed his eyes, hoping that it might make the girl more comfortable. Once all stopped moving, Pauline stood up, still a bit shaky. She reached out to the long strands, taking a handful and filtering it through her fingers. Clay had not been lying; the hair on his head was much softer than that on his tail or his fur. Pauline was immediately enraptured. She ran her hands through it, rubbed a lock to her cheek, fluffed it and smoothed it again. She took a chunk and loosely braided it, giggling softly. Clay was content to let her do as she pleased. He was surprised, though, when she moved closer and ran a hand over his eyebrow. Said eyebrow twitched, then joined its counterpart in a furrow.

“What are you doing, little one?” He spoke not with any accusation, but rather kind amusement.

“You’re missing hair on this one,” she said, touching his right brow. Clay opened his eyes, but she was too close for him to focus on. His eyelashes brushed her arms, drawing another giggle from her.

“Yep. Got a cut a long, long time ago, and the hair never grew back.” His smile widened. A child’s wonder was a marvelous thing to see. To be the object of that wonder was, in a way, flattering. After everything this girl had been through over the past couple of days, she deserved some happiness.

“Could I please touch your beard?” she asked. Wordlessly, Clay obliged. He tipped his head back, lifting his chin so she could reach it. With far less hesitation than before, the girl pushed her hands into the shorter hair. It wasn’t as soft as the hair on his head, but still softer than his tail. It tickled her palms as she rubbed along his chin and jaw.

Clay glanced up at the sky, noting the sun’s position. There was still time, but noon was approaching.

“Dearheart,” he said, gently pulling his head back so he could better regard her. “I’d love to let you braid my hair all day, but I think it’s time I got you back to your parents.”

The girl’s eyes lit up, as if she’d suddenly remembered why Clay was here at all. She nodded eagerly.

Warmth filled Clay’s chest. He reached with his middle finger to give her a gentle pat to the head. “Sit down now, just like before. I’ll take you to them.” Obediently, she did as told and returned to her previous spot. Clay pulled his hat back onto his head, then cupped his free hand next to his occupied one for extra security. “Hold on, now. This might be a bit bumpy.”

That was putting it lightly. A centaur standing up was a rocky ride. He lurched as his hooves found footing under him, making the girl yelp and grab onto his pinky. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped harder when she was suddenly lifted even higher into the air.

“It’s alright, Miss Pauline,” Clay said. “You ready to go?”

She nodded, though she kept her eyes closed.

Standing up was the rough part. Clay, like most centaurs, could keep his upper body steady through a full gallop. While walking, the worst Pauline had to endure was a little bit of easy swaying. He periodically glanced down at her as he picked his way through the forest, happy to see that most of her fear was gone. She looked around at the giant trees and bushes with a new sense of awe. From up here, things didn’t look quite so daunting. The fact that no predators could reach her provided a great deal of comfort too.

With comfort came confidence. The girl started asking questions about the forest, about Clay, about centaurs and other large creatures. Clay indulged her curiosity as best he could. Having lived with these woods his whole life, he was something of an expert. Were they not on a bit of a time constraint, he would have been happy to stop and show her some of the things he talked about, like the bright mushrooms or the abandoned bird nests.

Clay could smell the river before he could see it. He could hear it, too, as they drew closer. Over the sound of its flowing, he could hear some voices, too––human voices. Dogs barking greeted him first as the animals sensed his approach. He paid them no mind, nor the startled noises of the humans as he pushed through the trees and into the path that ran perpendicular to the river.

“Mr. Hess!” said a familiar voice. Sanouk waved to him, and he nodded in return.

“Afternoon, Miss Sanouk.” The centaur stopped a few yards away from the group of humans, both for courtesy and safety’s sake. He curled his fingers again to keep his charge secure as he once more lowered himself down to the ground. “I believe I’ve found who we were looking for.”

Sanouk eyed him curiously, then looked to his cupped hands. Her expression morphed from confused to elated. “You found her?” The rest of the group perked up at the news too.

Clay nodded and turned his attention to the girl in his hands. “Miss Pauline, these people were out here looking for you too. They’re real’ nice. I’m sure they’ve got some snacks and water they’d be happy to share with you.”

Pauline looked uncertain, but the mention of food and water brightened her mood. Clay brought his hands down to the ground and flattened his fingers. A few of the other humans cheered and whooped their joy. Sanouk looked ready to cry. She took a knee and held her arms out to the girl.

“Come here, child. Come get something to eat and drink. Your parents will be here soon.” She beckoned with her hands.

Pauline looked back to Clay, who gave her an encouraging nod, then she scampered out of his hands and ran into Sanouk’s arms. The woman embraced her tightly. She mouthed a word of thanks to Clay, then lifted the girl up and carried her to the crowd, many of whom already had water and food to offer. Clay straightened and crossed his arms, satisfied that the girl was now safe.

A few humans broke from the group to thank Clay for finding the girl. He humbly shrugged off their thanks, saying that they were all out here looking for her. Any one of them would have brought her back if they’d found her. He was just the lucky one. Still, it was nice to see that at least some of the humans were warming up to him.

Over the next half hour, the other groups filtered in. The Kellys were part of the last group to arrive. Pauline spotted her mother before either parent could receive the news. “Mama!” she yelled, startling the whole group. Both parents looked up, bewildered, to see their daughter sprinting towards them. Their knees hit the ground, arms outstretched, and cocooned the girl in a long-overdue embrace. A chorus of sniffles and relieved sighs echoed throughout the whole group. Clay looked away, not wanting to intrude on a personal moment. He was just happy to see the Kellys reunited.

After a few minutes, approaching footsteps drew the centaur’s attention back. Ears pricked, he turned his head to see O’Rourke walking his way. The old man wore a grin as wide as his face.

“I’m told you’re the one that found her.”

Clay dipped his head once. “Out in section six. Got to her just in time, too. Found her in a log with a lizard trying to get at her, the poor thing.”

O’Rourke raised a fuzzy brow. “Have any trouble catching her?”

“No, not really. I let her come to me. Figured she’d been through enough; she didn’t need me grabbing for her and scaring her more.” He lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. His pinky caught on one of the braids the girl had left there. It brought a fond smile to his lips. “She okay? Didn’t look too banged up to me, but I’m no doctor. Certainly not no human doctor.”

“She’s fine,” O’Rourke said with a wave. “Better now that she’s back with her family. Thank you, Clay, for coming out today. We wouldn’t have found her without you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Clay said.

“I do. Don’t be so modest. You saved that girl’s life today,” the old man insisted.

Clay was ready to retort, feeling a little indignant with his modesty being challenged, but he paused when he spotted others approaching. O’Rourke followed his gaze to the Kellys, Marty and Lana, heading over. Pauline was held in her mother’s arms, clutching a snack bar that she eagerly munched on. They stopped next to O’Rourke, who gave the father a firm pat on the shoulder before he departed.

The father spoke first. “Mr. Hess…?”

“Clay,” he corrected.

“Clay…” he repeated, clearly uneasy. “I––we wanted to thank you for finding our daughter. We knew that if we didn’t find her today, she might…” he trailed off as his voice started to shake, and swallowed thickly.

Clay shrugged humbly. “No need to thank me, Mr. Kelly. I’m just happy I could help. Happy to see her safe.”

“You saved her life,” the mother said. She looked less afraid than her spouse, like her strength and courage returned with her child. “You’ve done us a great service. How could we ever repay you?”

Clay frowned. These humans didn’t listen, did they? It must be their tiny ears. He shook his head. “I don’t need repayment. A child was lost, and I helped find her. I just did what any decent man would do.”

“But––”

He waved a hand, cutting off any rebuttal. “You wanna repay me? You take that girl home, get her cleaned up and healthy again. You take care of her and raise her well. That’s plenty reward for me.”

The parents stared up at him, clearly feeling contrary. Before they could say anything, though, Pauline started to squirm and protest the hold she was in. Once mother reluctantly set her down, the girl ran towards Clay. She beamed up at him, arms held over her head. The centaur went still, going so far as to halt his breathing.

“Clay!” the girl called, waving her hands. There was no trace of her previous fear.

Clay allowed himself a breath and a smile. “Yes, dearheart?” She pointed to his hands. Now it was his turn to be hesitant, but he did still oblige the child. He lowered a hand for her, offering her his forefinger. She latched onto it, hugging as tightly as she could. The gesture filled his hearts with a warmth he didn’t often experience.

“Now now, don’t go getting all sappy on me,” he chided gently. He couldn’t return the hug, but he could allow her to hold on for as long as she wanted. Her parents followed behind, both resting a hand on his knuckles.

“Thank you, Clay,” the father repeated.

The centaur shook his head. “It was my pleasure.”

Pauline held on for another minute before her mother coaxed her away. Clay pulled his hand back, still aware of the little warm spot where she’d held him. He gave the family a wave as they retreated back to the crowd, no doubt ready to head home and tend to their daughter.

Clay didn’t stick around much longer. There was nothing left for him to do here. The girl was safe. The family was whole. He was happy. With all humans a safe distance away, the centaur gathered himself up to his feet, tipped his hat farewell to the crowd, and turned to the forest to head home.

He could celebrate the day on his own with a bottle of his homemade cider.

[petrichormeraki]

Unconfirmed Hels!Hermits Because I'm Bored And Love Wordplay:

Grian: Gealach

Grian means Sun, and Gealach means Moon! Fits pretty well as far as opposites go. I'd imagine Gealach would be very chill, calm and downright unfun to be around. In fact he probably chastices others whenever they disobey rules, so harshly that one would never want to disobey again. He probably wears mainly blue.

Stressmonster: Calmhero

Calm is the opposite of stress, but it was surprisingly difficult to find an antonym for "monster". Anyhow, despite the name, I'd think Calm is actually very high strung and serious, a stark difference to the bubbly and colorful Stress. Calm probably would force her surroundings and peers to match her idea of orderly and perfect, while Stress finds beauty in everything without changing a single thing. I imagine Calm probably wears all white, a complete absence of color.

Zedaph: Aleph

Zedaph's name origin is something I couldn't find, so I went more surface level with my idea. Zedaph has "Zed" in it, aka the Greek letter Zeta, so I just went with the Greek letter for A, which is Alpha! Alpha's phoenician pronunciation is Aleph though, and that sounded cooler. Zed is very chaotic and inefficient with the way he does things, so I imagine Aleph is very productive and quick at whatever he tries to do. He probably only makes machines for convenience, and even then doesn't add anything fun; they're just machines, and they're one purpose is efficiency. No fun decor or backstory in the slightest. Aleph would probably wear a suit/other stuffy attire.

Mumbo Jumbo: Clear Sense

Clear is probably one of the few Hels!Hermits that doesn't seem like they're from Hels. Whereas Mumbo is very anxious but creative and fast paced, Clear probably is very simple-worded and takes it slow. Clear is probably also very full of himself and thinks he's the best at whatever he does (since Mumbo is critically self conscious), but never tries to do anything new. I also think it'd be very funny if Clear had a beard and wore the Pacifico tropical shirt getup all the time instead lmao

TangoTek: WaltzWorx

Waltz is most likely a lot less cartoony with his redstone and ideas compared to Tango. While Tango made fun games like the collection maze run Decked Out, Waltz probably would not make games at all. I also think he would barely do any redstone/building at all, since Tango has to work on a huge project or he'll die of inactivity. Much like their respective dances, Waltz would be slow, calculated, and graceful, while Tango is much more sporadic, snappy, and high energy. Waltz's color scheme is of course blue and purple instead of red and yellow.

ImpulseSV: RestrainND

Restrain is most likely good friends with Waltz and Clear, because holy shit he would be SO SLOW. He'd probably take days to make a decision because he had to be sure it was the right one, and he's probably very uptight and left-brained compared to the human puppy dog that is Impulse. He'd probably match Waltz well with the purple color scheme.

Iskall85: Eldig58

Iskall means "ice cold", so naturally the opposite would be "red hot". Eldig is probably the most Helslike besides Helsknight; he's mean, short tempered and unfriendly to any who would come close. Basically take Iskall's friendly insults and remove the friendly. That savageness without restraint would be Eldig. His prosthetic robot eye would probably be an eyepatch instead, and on his right instead of his left. He'd have a more barbaric clothing theme, I reckon. Plus the red color scheme because even though it's not the direct opposite to green, his name literally means "red hot", come on!

BDoubleO100: BooDoubleO100

(Directly stealing from @fluffy-papaya and @sweetest-honeybee so go follow them please and thanks) Boogeyman!! Boogeyman Bdubs!! A phantom that haunts the night, builds underground nests of creepy crawlies and heebie jeebies, Boodubs would be TERRIFYING. The only thing close to a sweet and friendly big smile would be his horrifying teeth, so big and sharp that the sight of them would give terrors for weeks. The nightmares are his home, and under the bed is where he resides. He's the shadow in the closet that is mistaken for a lump of clothes, the split second of movement you see right when you open your eyes from a dead sleep.

This is getting long so I'll end it here but I have many more ideas if y'all are interested!! :D

[chiafett-moved]

🥝⭐🔥

Sorry I cant remember any of your ocs right now XD maybe your CG medic?

Hello Gaea! Ask and ye shall receive. I just did Hemlock for Terra, so you get the medbay baby Holly.

🥝 What does a bad mental health day look like for your OC? Walk us through it with them. What kind of things can help them out of this slump and what kinds of things comfort them when they start to feel like this?

Holly’s emotions get the best of him sometimes. You know those tiny dogs that are always shaking bc their bodies can’t contain their rage? Yeah that’s him. Some days, things just pile up and he wakes up already overwhelmed and he just can’t handle the stress of working in the medbay. He sees his brothers suffer and die every day. He sees how hopeless it all is (for the clones, at least). It’s easy to lose faith, and for Holly, that usually translates to angry tears.

When he gets like this, he usually turns to the other younger vode. This drives Hemlock crazy because he’s always in ori’vod mode, but Holly isn’t in the mood for sage advice and a well-intended ‘calm down.’ He wants to rage against the universe and do stupid shit with his brothers. This usually results in broken gym equipment and questionable trips to 79s. Then they cry it out together because emotions are big and humans are small.

After he gets it out of his system, he wants to find something to keep himself busy. This is usually when he turns to Hemlock. Hemlock sets him up with something low-stakes and repetitive, something to keep him busy for the rest of the day and make him feel like he’s doing something worthwhile. Then, he goes and steals someone else’s dessert in the mess hall.

⭐ What is your OC afraid of? Any crippling phobias or some such? How do they act when scared and what helps them calm down? Does anyone ever find your OC scary? Why?

Literally no one finds Holly scary. It’s physically impossible. He’s too smiley. This is not a reflection of Holly’s skills, though. He’s highly competent, he’s just too nice for his own good.

Holly is almost never scared for himself. It’s almost disturbing, actually. He’ll just walk right into battle and not flinch. Nerves of steel. He does get scared for other people, though, especially about medical stuff, which leads right into....

Holly’s hypochondria. Holly is very anxious and high-strung, and he’s terrified of getting sick or hurt. He sees what can happen to people, and he has way too much medical knowledge for his anxious brain to know what to do with.

🔥 Give us a list of general likes and dislikes, such as colours, textures, music, weather and other stuff!

Likes:

Pop music

Chocolate and other sweets

Baking

Watching videos

Math

The colors red and orange

Steady rain

Dislikes:

Anything that takes a long time

Basketball (or whatever the space version is)

The color grey

Words with multiple spellings in Basic (centre-center, color-colour, etc.)

Fox’s fucking attitude

Being treated like a child

And that’s all! I love Holly so much, he’s the medbay sunshine. Thanks, Gaea!

[rayofsun936]

Haikyuu Band AU: Kamomedai

AU where all the Haikyuu dorks go to the same high school and are in the Concert + Marching Band together. 

Suwa Aikichi – Tenor Sax

Picked Tenor cause it is a soothing instrument he can fall asleep too

Really likes his section and how calm, cool and collected it can be (most of the time, until Kuroo starts antagonizing Daichi or Yaku)

Another go to band member to help the more anxious/high strung members keep calm and focused before performances

Helps out with compiling the end of the year slide show with Yachi, Ennoshita, Akaashi and Rintarou

Is worried for when he graduates along with most of the tenor sax section because there might not be a tenor sax section after they leave [I unintentionally made the tenor sax players all third years so far… oops]

Nozawa Izuru – Alto Sax

Alto sax cause it’s cool and has a lot of cool jazz solos he wants to try out eventually

His favorite thing to do to pass the time is antagonizing the second years who eat it up

Started the bands annual beach day hangout post band camp

Overall a very relaxed easy-going player having a good time in a good ensemble

Hoshiumi Kourai – Tuba

Actively wanted to join his older brother in orchestra (brother plays the cello) until he sat in on an open individual practice and all the sounds of the string instruments didn’t sit well with his ears [I mean absolutely no offense to string instruments or those in orchestra, for this AU Hoshiumi decided it wasn’t for him]

Once deemed old enough to start an instrument he joined band and went for the biggest instrument he could find because he can (and if he can’t be tall and big his instrument absolutely will be)

Is very serious about practice to be the best player he can be

Is a very technical player and has impeccable playing posture

That one tuba player who can always be heard across the field

Hirugami Sachirou – French Horn, Mellophone (Marching); Piano

From a long, long line of musicians so started out on piano in elementary school, went to French Horn in middle school

Because of his family lineage is extremely strict on himself and is a huge perfectionist in his playing and hates it when he messes up because not only did he let the ensemble down, but he let himself down

Has a mental breakdown in front of Hoshiumi their freshman year and que ‘you can always quit’ scene (cause you know, just because you are really good at something and love it doesn’t mean you have to make a career out of it)

After that Hirugami rediscovers his love for band and is back for enjoying it for what it is and doesn’t completely tear himself down when he messes up

His pet dog unofficially becomes the band’s mascot

No one has ever seen him trip, like ever so Terushima starts a game on who can make Hirugami trip first (He just has a really good center of gravity and solid footing)

Bessho Kazuyoshi – Percussion, Pit (Marching)

Joined in middle school and went to percussion cause he liked the variety of instruments he would get to know how to play

Gets along very well with Kunimi and they like to gossip together (mainly through texts of course)

The two of them like to go people watching together during their free time and come up with fun elaborate back stories for them

For the band talent show he did imitations of everyone and had a good 3/4ths of the band rolling on the floor with laughter with his accuracy

Before performances or auditions he is very calm exteriorly but is internally walking himself through the performance note by note to himself to keep himself calm

Hakuba Gao – Clarinet

Joined in high school cause he heard band can be a lot of fun (and it is!)

Picked clarinet cause he saw Omimi play it, and he’s got to join the only other super tall person (and immediately recruited Hyakuzawa once he joined a year later to keep up the tradition)

Had a short phase of living up to his height and build when he first started cause fresh start and all, but everyone saw through it very quickly and he gave up shortly after that

Will still every now and then try to be a bad influence/trouble maker but his actions always end up helping in someway or another cause as Suwa says ‘he’s a good kid’

Is highly amused and slightly disturbed by the shortest members of the band (Hinata, Hoshiumi, Yaku, Noya, Sakunami) because how do they even do what they do with their height?

Kanbayashi Keiichirou – Tenor Sax

Been in band since middle school, chose Tenor because it’s not like any other instrument appealed to him

Good friends with Akagi and they enjoy watching the band from a distance, striking up conversations with onlookers as if they aren’t in the band themselves

Can get really competitive for chair placement and super chill, and never complains when the seating arrangements are announced cause he knows they all fought well for their spots

Has fun, plays fun, enjoys every new adventure the band brings him because there is no such thing as a normal, boring day with this band

| Karasuno | Nekoma | Fukurodani | Seijoh | Shiratorizawa | Dateko | Inarizaki | Miyagi Girls | Miyagi Boys | Additional Haikyuu Boys |