damn mutt

Guardian Angel

Hey there! nyrandrea and themarginalartist here!

So here it is, our super secret project! We have both been very excited about this and now we can finally share it! This story is inspired by @thelostmoongazer‘s Mob Boss Bendy AU and more specifically, @the-vampire-inside-me‘s very own Abel the Angel! 

We’re planning on making this into a series and we have quite a lot of it planned out already so here’s the first chapter!

Enjoy!

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Mike Chilton - Take Me Home (Hollywood Undead)

YEAH IT’S FINALLY DONE HELL YES.  I had to make this because if I ever heard a song with lyrics that described Mike Chilton more aptly than “reckless till the day I rest my bones”, I don’t remember it (but if I ever do I will definitely have to make a video with it).

It kind of looks a little bit like he died at the end.  OH WELL.  RIP in peace Mikey.

Werewolf Hysteria (Roman Reigns x Reader) Part 1of 2


AN: Wanted to surprise you guys with this funny, smutty Roman Reigns one shot. No longer a one shot, tho 😅. I’ve been reading werewolf books too much 😂 hope y'all enjoy 🐺

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Girl, why you always eyeing Roman down?” My friend Sasha asked me, exasperated by my lack of participation in tonights activies.

“I do not!” I defensively yelled over the blaring music in the night club we were at. I don’t even know what possessed me to come here. Clubs aren’t my kinda thing. Socializing isn’t even my kind of thing.

“Mmhmm OK” Sasha replied rolling her eyes at my statement.

She really wasn’t lying about her earlier said statement. I was always watching Roman, but it’s not for the reason most people think. I mean, yeah, he is incredible sexy and a good guy. He can be a little cocky sometimes, but he isn’t nearly as bad as some of the other guys on the roster. Great now I do sound like I’m interested in him, but I swear I’m not! If I told people the real reason I’m always watching him they’d think I’m crazy or a freak. I honestly don’t want to be know as either of those things, most people think I’m weird enough as it is.

I’ve been working in the WWE for almost 10 months now as a makeup artist and the only friends I have are Sasha and Naomi. Sasha and I became friends due to our fascination with anime. I got to know Naomi through Sasha, and we instantly got along because Naomi was just such a down-to-earth person.

It was always hard for me to make friends. I was always really quiet, never really went out much, and was always lost in my own head. I was interested in stuff most people wouldn’t be, such as mythical creatures and lore. From the ages of 7 to 11, I was convinced I was a vampire until my sister split her eyebrow open with a blow to the head with a golf club and I passed out at the sight.

I might not believe I’m a vampire anymore but I do believe that mythical creatures exist. And this is why I stare at Roman all the time because I do believe that he is a werewolf.

“(Y/n), if you like Roman you should go talk to him! I think he’s interested in you because I see him watching you all the time!” Naomi stated excitedly. “He’s doing it right now!”

I bristled at her words. I turned to my left and looked a couple of tables over and there he was, staring directly at me. I slightly jumped and looked away quickly. ‘Dammit’ I thought to myself. I was supposed to be sneaky in my study of the Samoan, but I was obviously failing at that.

“You know she won’t go talk to Mr. tall, dark, and handsome over there. Especially since he ‘growled’ at her last week” Sasha laughed. I playfully shoved her.

“He really did! I was totally scared!” I insisted, and Sasha laughed harder.

“Girl, I thought dogs growled? Last time I checked Roman’s a man. ALL man.” Naomi said.

“Don’t you guys have husbands?” I bring up, trying to get the focus off of me.

“Yes we do, and that’s why we can comment on what’s happening between you and Ro. Besides, I’m married to his cousin, so I can tell you from experience….” Naomi leaned in closer to me, “He is ALL man.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Sasha finished, always putting in her two cents. “And don’t they say Samoan guys have big di-”

“OKAY!” I quickly interrupted. “I’m going to get something to drink. Want anything?” I asked looking between both of them.

“Yeah, for you to snag a hot Samoan tonight!” Sasha yelled, rather loudly I might add.

“Right on!” Seth yelled from the table behind us.

I quickly walked away from the table, face blazing. 'I’m soooo going to get her back for that’ I tell myself as I weave my way through the dancing people, getting closer to the bar.

As I’m waiting for the bar tender to make my drink, I find myself looking in Roman’s direction again. He’s on the opposite side of the bar from me, talking to Dean and Renee.

I was intently watching, seeing if he was displaying any werewolf characteristics. He seemed pretty normal tonight, though. Like most werewolves, he was usually standoffish. He could be social if he wanted to be, but you could tell he liked his privacy. There were times when he would get really irritable, and he actively avoided anyone and everyone like the plague.

“He must be stressed out” or “He must be homesick” people would say when he acted like that, but I knew better. During his irritable, antisocial periods, he would somehow look even more attractive than he usually does. His hair and skin would be practically glowing, and his eerie, grey eyes looked like they could penetrate your soul. And I read in my spirits and mythological creatures handbook when it’s close for a werewolf to change its wolf form, they are extremely irritable and try to stay as far away from others as possible. They also possess a glow that rivals one of a pregnant women or a bride on her wedding day when its close to their change, hence my description of his physical appearance during those times.

“Here’s you’re drink, ma'am.” The bartender stated, sliding me my drink. His voice broke me out of my Roman watching daze.

“Thanks” I told the bartender with a smile while reaching for my drink. I take a small sip, turning back towards Roman’s direction. When I looked back over there, he was gone. “Damn,” I muttered.

When I turned around to make my way back to the girls, I almost had a heart attack.

There he was. Looking at me so intently I started squirming. I chanced looking in his eyes and I almost passed at. His grey eyes were burning pits. I quickly averted mine and desperately tried to calm my nerves. Was he angry? Was he going to yell at me and tell me to stop stalk- no, no I mean watching him?

“You got a problem with me, kid?” Roman asked in his deep, hypnotic voice.

“Oh, no, Mr. Reigns, Sir!” I hurriedly answer, still refusing to meet his gaze. 'OMG please don’t eat me!’ I cry to myself.

He looks at me for a couple more seconds, and starts chuckling at my reaction. I feel my face growing warm with embarrassment. 'Damn you, you mutt-face!’ I think to myself. I know, its not one of my best insults, but hey, I was scared shitless.

“Yeah, okay, we need to have a little chat.” Roman concludes, plucking my drink from my hand and placing it back on the counter. He then grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the doors leading out of the club.

“Holy shit! She’s totally get laid tonight!” I hear Sasha tell Naomi, as we pass up their table going to the exit.

I felt like I might die from embarrassment at that point because I can tell Roman heard them as well due to his smirk. 'Oh I’m so dead’ I think to myself as we exit the club and get closer to his rental. “You’re in for a long night, kid.” He whispers in my ear, before yanking the passenger side door open.

'Holy shit’ I think to myself as I sealed my fate by entering the vehicle.

Summer Fires and Winter Fans [2/?]

Title: Summer Fires and Winter Fans
Fandom: Samurai Love Ballad: Party/Tenka Touitsu Koi no Ran: Love Ballad
Pairing: Tokugawa Ieyasu x MC
Rating: PG-13
Word Count (MS Word): 5,044


奮起一番 (ふんきいちばん) [funkiichiban]
(n) getting down to work, putting heart and soul into it; tackling (a job) with gusto

Apologies for the delay, but here’s the next chapter for this series. If you’ve missed Chapter 1, click the link below:

Chapter 1 

As requested, I am tagging the following users: @frywen-babbles, @perfectruffian2389

Enjoy!

Chapter 2 link for mobile users

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

So,how about the sf brothers picking up sf chara from school?

SF Sans

Blackberry is the impatient one who taps his foot quickly while waiting, and checks his wrist every other minute. (He’s not even wearing a watch the little weirdo) He’ll probably end up getting into an argument with one of the PTA moms (Dammit Helen’). Then he sees Chara and quickly ushers them into his car “FINALLY I’VE BEEN WAIT FOREVER, YOUR AS SLOW AS THE DAMN MUTT!”………………….He was only waiting for about 4 minutes.

SF Papyrus

Slim is calm and sitting or leaning on the fence/wall while he waits and is most likely smoking, then promptly passes out. He’s woken a few minutes later to Chara gently booping his face, and chuckles before letting out a small pun. After a few minutes of trying to get him to stand up Chara finally succeeds, and holds Slim’s hand on the walk home.

Good girl

*Deanna found herself cornered between a hellhound and a hardplace. This mission was Crowley’s plan in the first place, now that damned mutt of hers was going to have it’s fill of hunter meat, and for what? So Crowley could get her bones back? Agh… Demons. * 

Deanna : What? 

Crowley : The phone, put her on it.

Deanna : … Uh alright *holds phone up on speaker* 

Deanna : She’s growling, why is she growling? 

Guard Dog

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: swearing, typical vamp violence 

Summary: Sam and Dean run into a hunter who has a partner of her own. And that partner does not like Dean. 

Words: 1476

Request: 

You scratch behind Truman’s ear as the two of you stake out a vamp’s nest. 

The nest was fairly small; you’ve only seen four vamps go in and out the last few days, so you didn’t anticipate any surprises.

Though it was four against one (plus Truman), you had a game plan to make sure you would be the winner of this fight.

You load up your tranq gun with four casings of dead man’s blood. It should stun the vamps long enough to give you time to decapitate each one.

“Let’s go, boy.” You open the car door and shut it once Truman jumps out.

Truman had been your wingman for four years now, ever since you found the German Shepard pup abandoned on the side of the road. He was easy to train, and he’s saved your butt on more than one occasion. You did the dirty work while Truman kept watch, going after anything that tried to take you by surprise. 

The two of you kept each other company on the lonely nights–which was pretty much every night. You occasionally would team up with another hunter, but you didn’t stick around to celebrate once the monster was dead. 

The two of you quietly creep up to the decrepit warehouse. You had watched one vamp come outside a few minutes earlier, and you knew he would be right around the corner.

Without a sound, you turn the corner. The vamp is resting against the wall, texting. As he looks up and notices you, you raise your gun and a muffled “pop” fills the air. The vamp falls to the ground, seizing. As he lays immobile, you grab your machete and make a clean cut on your first swipe.

You stand over the body and grab the towel from your back pocket, wiping the blood off your hands before it begins to dry and gets sticky. 

As you place the rag back in your pocket, you reach down and pat the top of Truman’s head.

“Good boy,” you whisper. 

You raise up your tranq gun and carefully make your way to the front door. 

As you push the door open, you wave your gun left and right, quickly and efficiently checking the first room for any vamps.

You don’t see anyone, but you can hear voices traveling from the next room over. 

Together, you and Truman silently make your way through the dark room, drawing closer to the hallway opening where light and voices were escaping from. 

Leaning against the door frame, you peek your head around to catch a glimpse at the room.

The three vamps are siting at a round table, laughing and playing poker. One of them, a big, burly looking fellow, was not laughing. His face was set hard and you notice the large difference between his chips and his friends.

Today’s not your lucky day, buddy.

As you raise your gun to take aim at the losing vamp, you spin on your heel as the front door suddenly slams shut. Truman hunches down and growls.

Your head spins back to the room, and your heart stops when you find it empty.

Shit,” You mutter.

Before you can even turn around, your body is flying across the room, and you land on the poker table. As your body hits the wood, the poker chips shatter everywhere, and a few cards fall around you.

You can hear Truman barking, and someone yelps as you assume Truman latches on. 

As you push yourself up, you see two more men you didn’t notice from your recon. 

Damn it.

Now you’re really out numbered. As you hop off the table, the burly looking vamp appears in front of you, looking more pissed than before.

“Hunter filth,” he growls as his hands wrap around your throat. Your hands wrap around the wrist that lifts you off the ground, and your feet kick at him. 

You can hear Truman snarling in the other room, but you can’t see him at all.

You start to choke as his fingers grip even tighter, and as black spots appear in your vision, you see the quick flick of silver, before the vamp’s head slides off his neck and to the ground.

Instantly the hands fall from around your neck, and you take a painful breath as you look up at the man in front of you.

He’s one of the two new guys.

He’s tall with broad shoulders covered in a leather jacket. His face has splatters of blood across it, and you can’t help but notice how green his eyes are as you stare at him. His jaw is clenched and you can feel the violence this man is capable of.

“You good?” He asks in a deep, gruff voice. 

You nod, your fingers gently caressing your damaged trachea. 

“Yeah,” you gasp out. Your voice is low and scratchy. You sound like a smoker. 

“Dean Winchester,” the man nods, not bothering to reach out his blood-covered hands.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you nod back. “So, you’re hunters?” You ask, assuming the–hopefully–obvious.

“Yeah. My brother Sam,” Dean motions to the even taller man with long hair, over his shoulder. “And I have been hunting our whole lives.”

Your eyes narrow and you cross your arms.

“You’ve been hunting your whole lives and you barge in here like two bulls in a china shop?” You voice starts to rise with your anger. “You two idiots almost got me killed! If you hadn’t alerted the whole damn nest you were here, I would have cleaned this up nice and easy!”

Truman slowly walks into the room, encroaching on Dean. His lips are snarling and he growls as he moves around Dean.

Truman has been by your side long enough to know that if you don’t like someone, he doesn’t either. 

Dean jumps a little as Truman stalks closer to him.

“Ya wanna call off your guard dog here?” Dean backs up a few inches as Truman continues moving closer.

You glare at Dean, and then to Sam who is standing in the doorway. 

“Look, we had no idea you were here. We have our own way of doing things, and if we knew you were here, we wouldn’t have come in the way we did. We didn’t mean to mess up your hunt,” Dean holds his hands in the air, his green eyes switching from you to Truman. 

You would love to let Truman accidentally grab a piece of Dean’s skin to make up for the crap he put you through, but that little angel on your shoulder gets the best of you.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Truman, heal.” The dog narrows his eyes and snaps at Dean before releasing his attack form and sitting down, eyes still on Dean.

“Damn mutt,” you hear Dean mutter. You glare at him, but let it slide. 

“Well, job accomplished, no thanks to you two,” you push past Dean.

“No thanks to us?” Dean yells after you. As you pass by Sam, he has a look on his face that’s telling brother to let it be, but apparently Dean doesn’t take orders very well.

“If it weren’t for us, those vamps would of had you for dinner!" 

You turn and face Dean. 

"If it weren’t for you two morons, they would never have known I was here!” You huff as your nose scrunches up. 

“Oh yeah,” Dean laughs, moving his whole body with it. “Cause I’m sure you and Cujo here could have taken out all those vamps by yourself.” He throws a hand towards Truman. 

Now you cross the room and get so close to Dean, you can feel his hot breath on your cheeks.

“For your information, asshole, I’ve taken out plenty of nests this size with just me and Truman. And I’ve been perfectly fine up to now. Drop the hero complex, admit you fucked up, and we’ll call it even.” You stare up at him with hard eyes. You suddenly hate how short you are. You wish you could be eye level with this dude, but you have to stare up at him while he literally gets to look down on you.

“How about we call it even over some drinks?” He grins. It’s a cocky grin, one he’s probably used on many women before. And you’re sure it’s landed him more women then you can imagine. But right now, you hate the man in front of you too much to be veered by a cute smile.

“I’d rather be bitten by a vamp.” You spit.

With that, you turn on your heel and storm out of the warehouse with Truman closely by your side.

As you slam your car door shut and rev your engine, you watch from a distance as Dean and Sam get into their car.

“Damn Winchesters." 

Request: The Keeper

Request: Heyya, lovin the blog, could you do one where reader is really hurt in a hunt, and is stuck in hospital for days on end. They’re really bored so sam try’s to keep them entertained? Samxreader? Xxx

Word Count: 1,118

Thank you so much! I really hope you like it, have an awesome day!<33

It’s been more than a week and you’re bored off your head. The days of being loopy on painkillers are behind you, as are the days of nearly incapacitating discomfort. No, now, you’re just bored of this bed and the stark white walls and the stitches in your stomach stopping you from moving.

Damned werewolf. At least it’s the dead one in this party.

“Morning, Y/N.” Sam offers a smile as he steps into the room, “How are you feeling?”

“Bored.” You shift uncomfortably, and Sam sets the plastic bag on the floor. Only God knows what he’s brought this time – over the last four days since you came off the morphine, he’s been making it his mission to entertain you ‘til you get better. The mass of wires connecting you to drips and monitors stop you doing much, so he brings jigsaws and card games and books and films and you appreciate it, you do. Without him, you’d be stir crazy by now.

“Hey, babe. I’m good. How are you?”

“Better than Dean. Stumbles in about five this morning, hung over as hell, shirt on back to front…” Sam laughs at the memory, kissing your forehead and brushing hair out of your face, “I left him to his greasy sandwiches. Feeling better?”

“Much. I just want to be up and about – the nurse who was in this morning said she might let me start walking tomorrow.” You grin, ghosting a hand over your stomach. There are still white gauzy bandages wrapped around the ugly cut, but you can feel it each time you move. You prop yourself up on the bed, thankful for your increased mobility.

“So, camp leader,” You grin, running a hand through your hair, “What’s the word today?”

“I brought a new jigsaw. And a book, 'cause I know you finished the one I brought yesterday.” He smiles, taking the seat beside you and pulling the wheely-table over. You can’t help but laugh.

“It was a good book!” You defend, playing with the heart monitor clipped to your finger. Sam gives you a chiding look and you stop quickly – it’s not your fault you’re so antsy. You just want to be back out there, doing stuff – not stuck in this ten by ten room, unable to get off your ass unless you need to go to the bathroom, and even then, you’re lifted into a wheelchair and lifted back. It’s ridiculous, and all in the name of 'not straining yourself’ and 'being careful of your stitches’ – the damn overgrown mutt tore straight through your stomach muscles, nearly shredding everything. You’d needed fifty-eight stitches. Fifty-eight.

“Hey, quit thinking. It’s dangerous.” Sam brings you out of the world you’d withdrawn into, and you shake your head quickly.

“It’s all I’m allowed to do nowadays.” You lament, and Sam laughs.

“You’ll be on your feet before you know it. Don’t worry.” He takes your hand in his for a moment, “Want to try the jigsaw?”

“Sure.”

He helps you into a better sitting position and you empty the box onto the desk. You begin by separating the pieces into edges and middle bits, then by colour – the image is a world map, filled with little writing. It’s 750 pieces, though, so it’s hardly easy. You sit in quiet for a while, and he begins telling you stupid stories and things people have said.

“Cas keeps apologising for not being able to help you and he’s driving Dean up the wall – I mean, it’s not his fault, right? It’s not like he can control his grace being gone. But anyway, he’s beating himself up over that. Oh, Jody sends her love. She says she’s going to come visit when you get home because 'you boys can’t look after her and the bunker at the same time as hunting’.” He imitates her shamelessly, and actually quite well, “Charlie says that you have to get your ass better soon because she has some LARPing thing or Comic-Con you have to go to? She’s way too enthusiastic about this whole thing.” He grins, “You’re gonna get a massive flurry of visitors when you get home, you know?”

“Mm.” You nod agreeably, tossing another piece back into the box upon the discovery that it had no straight edges. Sam looks at you for a moment.

“Am I boring you?”

“No! No, you’re not. I just like listening to you talk. It’s nice to hear a voice that isn’t saying, 'so does this hurt?’ while poking at my stomach, like, yeah, it hurts, it got slashed open a week ago. Want to try it out?” You shake your head, “Honestly.”

Sam laughs, touching your shoulder affectionately, “You poor thing.”

“Yeah, very poor.” You pout, “They keep telling me to rest and sleep – I’m not tired!”

“I’ve noticed. It’s nice to see you with some colour back in your cheeks.” He smiles brightly, “Suits you.”

“What? You’re saying I wasn’t beautiful when I was colourless and half dead? Gee, thanks, Sam. Best boyfriend ever!” You fold your arms in mock offense, but you can’t help but collapse into giggles. You spend the rest of the day together, until about seven in the evening when the nurse comes in.

“Sorry, kid, you gotta go.” She says apologetically. You whine in annoyance, and Sam laughs.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back in the morning.” He promises, laying a kiss on your lips, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

In all fairness, the nurses have been great. It took you three days to wear them down when they insisted that Sam comply with visiting hours, but you moaned and whined consistently, even in your weakened state, and eventually, they allowed Sam in pretty much whenever on the grounds that his presence was the lesser of two evils. Plus, you’d listen to him more willingly than you would the staff in your stubborn ways.

The nurse insists that you lie down as 'you’ve been sitting up for eight hours, and you need to take it easy on those muscles’ and just before she leaves, she looks back at you with a smile.

“Tell you what, Y/N, I reckon you’ve got yourself a keeper there.”

“I’m just lucky he puts up with me.” You offer a smile, pulling the blanket up around yourself like a cocoon. She nods with a smile.

“He’s in love with you. It’s something you don’t see very often, not like that. Keep a hold of him.”

“I plan on it.”

Double Edged Blade /CLOSED +donotdaretoswashmybuckle

                                             Get over here!
                  They went this way! 
                                                                                                             Get that pirate bitch!
                                                           Find the ranger! Find the damned mutt, too!

One foot in front of the other, dodge the trees, leave no trail.

The advice Bishop had given Eilera before their little game of hide-n-seek with bandits had gone bad ran through their heads as they attempted to get away. It felt like that had been running for hours, and the voices seemed to be fading from distance now.

     It was only a matter of time before they were off the hook– free to continue on trudging their way through the forests without some trail of assholes behind them to worry about.

     Bishop held up the front, Karnwyr the rear. He followed the familiar scent of his master as he protected Eilera from behind– the ranger making sure they wouldn’t get lost as they tried to make sure the bandits did.

“If we split up here we have a better chance of losing them–” he called over his shoulder, the threat of a pant underlying his authoritative tone, “You go left and keep running. We’ll find you when the coast is clear.”

     Without so much as a missed beat, Bishop took a hard right and disappeared from her line of vision. The man was good. The wolf following him, of course, expertly dodging obstacles and trees, despite all odds.

Of Dogs and Flowers

Read on AO3 over here! (x)

There’s a jogger that goes by Levi’s house every other day. He always brings his dog with him. Levi is not a huge fan of either of them.


Levi pushes aside the curtain, looks out his window, and scowls. That blonde prick is back. Specifically, that blonde prick and his dog are back. Levi knows them well by now: a tall blondie that always goes jogging down his street and brings his dumb dog with him. The street is too far away from Levi’s house for him to see Blondie’s face clearly, but Levi is sure that it looks punchable. And oh, does he ever want to punch this guy.

Dog walkers aren’t anything special in his neighborhood. He lives in a small town, but it’s pretty well populated, and when the weather is nice plenty of people are out and about, even in the suburbs. Plenty of people walk their dogs, probably eager to take advantage of the good weather and work out some of their mutt’s energy. Levi wouldn’t know; he owns a cat.

Blondie is a special case. He shows up almost every other day at around three o’clock and jogs down Rose Avenue, wearing a sweaty t-shirt and a pair of shorts that Levi can—even from a distance—see hugs his ass tightly. He has one of those phone armbands as well as those earbuds with a speaker on the wire, and he is always chattering away into it. A black fanny pack hangs from his hips. A bright red leash is always hooked around his wrist, and trotting alongside him is some stupid purebred. Levi thinks it might be a Labrador. It always has this idiotic look on its face; its lips are always pulled back in a sort of grin, tongue lolling out to the side. Sometimes drool drips from its mouth as it forgets to swallow, eventually turning into foam. Its tail is almost wagging as it walks, held aloft just above its spine. The beast’s fur is nearly the same color as Blondie’s hair, and the way they’re color coordinated somehow irritates Levi even more.

However, nothing about his appearance is what makes Levi utterly loathe him. He can’t even see the specifics from his house, anyway. No, there’s one thing, one single, solitary fact, that makes Levi’s very being burn with anger at the very sight of this man.

His dog pisses on Levi’s garden.

Keep reading

zephror  asked:

Terry: MOTHERFUCKING COCK-SUCKING BITCH I WILL BURN DOWN YOUR HOUSE Finnick: what are you playing? Terry: Animal Crossing

Terry: THIS BLOODY SACK OF FECES SERIOUSLY JUST BUILT THEIR PUTRID TECHNICOLOR HOUSE ON MY PATH? IT’S NOT LIKE I HAD HYBRIDS RIGHT NEXT TO IT. I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL YOU UTTER WASTE OF POTENTIAL.

Terry: OH SO NOW THE ANTEATER WON THE BUG CONTEST? IT’S NOT LIKE I LITERALLY SPENT HOURS SHAKING TREES AND RUNNING FROM WASPS TO WIN THAT USELESS COMPETITION. FUCK YOU, APPLE. YOU’VE BEEN WEARING THAT DISGRACEFUL POLKA-DOTTED SHIRT FOR MONTHS. IT’S AWFUL WITH YOUR COLOR PALETTE.

Terry: WHY IN GOD’S NAME DOES THIS RACCOON NEED THAT MUCH MONEY. THIS IS GOVERNMENT BANKRUPTCY AND THERE’S NO NEED FOR IT TO BE THAT HIGH WHEN THE USE OF RESOURCES AND ECONOMIC GROWTH IS BASED ON THE SELLING OF VARIOUS FRUITS, INSECTS, AND SEA CREATURES. THIS IS ALL A SHAM.

Terry: FINNICK, IF YOU KEEP RUNNING THROUGH MY DAMN GARDEN AND PUTTING PIT FALLS OUTSIDE MY HOUSE I’M GOING TO SHANK YOU.

Terry: WHO THE BLAZES DECIDED IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A GOOD IDEA TO PLANT YELLOW TULIPS NEXT TO THE BLUE ROSES? THAT BEAUTIFUL TOWN ORDINANCE IS PUTTING EVERYTHING IN A COLORED SHIT FEST OF CLASHING TONES. NO WONDER FIDO THE DAMN VILLAGER MUTT IS PUTTING YELLOW NEAR BLUE, EVEN WHEN IT’S FAIRLY OBVIOUS THE TWO COLORS DON’T COMPLIMENT EACH OTHER WELL, IT IS BECAUSE THE DAMN DOG IS BLOODY COLOR-BLIND.

Finnick: Terry, please it’s just a game. Learn to laugh!

Melody: Your father and I are worried for your health. Put it down, Terry.

Give the Dog a Bone(r)

Levi was just looking for man’s best friend when he adopted the dog. What he got instead was man’s best wingman.

(or the AU where Levi’s dog tries to hump Eren every time it sees him)

AO3 - 1 - 2 - 3

Chapter 3

Levi takes a deep breath, jaw tightening as he stares down the mutt.

“Sit,” he repeats for the fifth time through gritted teeth. This dog is truly an asshole, and Levi doesn’t know why he ever thought differently. His grip on the leash tightens, and all Levi’s gifted with is the sight of the mangy mutt waging its tail. And for the first time, Levi is thankful for the large crowd, given it distracts from his absolute nuisance of a beast. He almost wants to just say fuck it and walk back home, but he has unintentionally pledged himself to meet Eren after class. Which actually sounds a little promising and maybe worth all the bullshit his dog is currently throwing at him.

The dog barks, and Levi thinks that he’s probably being too optimistic for once.

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Things were by no means under control, but it was at least a little bit less hectic for himself personally. Ever since the magic wore off, and all of his memories came back, he was feeling better than he had in a long time. There were so many things to do and straighten out as well as him trying to deal with the stupid hell mutts. Damn him to heaven if he let the demons come up, and even though he didn’t necessarily like the gargoyles he had to work with them to some extent to prevent the hell bastards from rising.

Sleep had never really been a top priority for Griffin, and it sure wasn’t now. Not while he was running around doing something around the clock, but through the hustle and bustle he knew he wasn’t at his full potential. Illaria was still out there somewhere and it pained him to be separated from her, yet he was bound to Isolon. So after a few words to the leader of the gargoyles he hoped that his familiar could be found and returned soon. 

Thankfully fate was kind to him on this round. It had been in the middle of the day where he had just bargained for some stones that could contain light for a long time. Since the hellhounds were weaker against light and holy relics he would need all he could get to shove them off. The few shards had just been pocketed when he felt a sudden pang of familiarity pound through him. His head snapped up sharply as the ball of bone he always carried on him was warp out to cover his forearm. Just as he rose his left arm there was a flurry of feathers and talons that gripped for purchase around the solidified marrow. Familiar eyes peered down at him, and for a moment it was quiet. Both in the mind and otherwise before he was smacked on the back of the head with a strong wing from the bearded vulture. Then her voice exploded in his head full of venomous chiding and complete worry. 

The two of them were the last beings anyone should ever interrupt, yet they both heard someone approach. While Illaria started to ruffle her feathers to go off at whoever the other person was, Griffin held up a hand to stop her beak from opening as he looked over. “You have about 2 minutes before she goes off like a canon.”