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#all dogs are good guys
thenameisjem · 9 months
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Best boy on a walk :)
Legend
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suiheisen · 18 days
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you think YOU had a bad day at work?
bonus: sid shrieking "no!!!! NO!!!!!" loud enough to be heard in the stands and on camera
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months
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Welcome to the Dungeons of Fear and Hunger.
#Fear and Hunger#D'arce Cataliss#Cahara#Ragnvaldr#Enki Ankarian#Unlike Dungeon Meshi - I cannot in good faith recommend this game to a broad audience.#My background with F&H goes as follows: I am hanging out with a friend. He says “hey try this game I've been playing.” I say “Okay!”#I have never heard of this game. I pick the mercenary. I go through 5 min of character history and background. I am mauled to death by dogs#It took me 4 resets to even get in the dungeon. But I finally get there. I am caught by a guard. He cuts off all but one of my limbs#I am forced to crawl around in a blood and corpse pit until the game tells me 'give up idiot'.#I reset. I am mauled by dogs again. I realize this is not for me but I am intrigued enough to go home and watch some playthroughs#And WOW what an interesting game it is! I really do appreciate games that blend their design philosophy with the theme it wants to set#This is a game about fear and hunger. And persevering. And penis (my god is there a lot of penis)#I recommend this to people who like extremely challenging games and can handle the many *content warnings* within this series#If the idea of Bloodborne/eldenring and undertale having a little RPG maker baby sounds appealing to you - give it a shot#It's made by ONE GUY and it's a great horror game. I am just really bad at it.#My friends just enjoy putting me in situations where I scream and yell. We don't talk about the corn mazes. Or the other horror game nights#Apparently I'm funny when I'm Scared!#As people who follow me on twitter might know; I am deep in the pits of this series right now. I will be back with more art.
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sentientcave · 13 days
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Retirement Party
Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.
Chapter One - The Perfect Gift
Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Stalking, Drugging, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Threats (open-ended), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real.
~3.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above
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"I told ye, she's perfect," Soap said, eyes on the window across the street. They could see you puttering around your living room, wearing a pretty flower print dress as you tidied up. "Good with bairns too, met her when I was pickin' up the niece and nephew from school. She was workin' for some rich family, an' they let her go because the wife found a pair of her knickers in her husband's briefcase." He snickered. He'd been the one to put them there, although, in his opinion, he’d been pushing the bounds for a long while anyway. Sure he’d essentially cast you adrift, jobless and with no one looking out for you, but, well, they were looking after you now, weren’t they? So it wasn’t all that bad.
"Good job, pup," Ghost said fondly, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Captain's gonna love 'er."
"How do you lads want to play it?" Gaz asked. "Could go in tonight. Won’t take much to knock her out, pack up her things, take her to the cabin. Get her nice and situated for when Price gets back."
"No point in waitin', is there?" Ghost asked. "Nice she's on the ground floor. Makes takin' 'er things easier. I'll go round 'n' check the windows in a bit. Should wait till after midnight. Don't want to be spotted by the neighbours."
"No' much risk o' tha'," Soap said. "Knocked over a bunch of bins last I was here and the cunts didna even turn on a light. Just the bonnie thing worryin’ while the rest of ‘em sleep sound."
Gaz lit a cigarette, nodding thoughtfully. "Small apartment too. Is there much to move?"
Soap shook his head. "Nah, no' much. Sweet girl lives simply. I told ye, she's perfect for the captain. He'll be able to spoil the fuck out of her, once she's broken in, aye?"
"Know 'e'll like that. Man needs a wife to dote on. ‘e’s been goin’ a bit crazy, all alone. An' 'e can train'er up nice."
"Think he might share?" Gaz asked wistfully, exhaling a stream of thin smoke as he sighed. "Nice soft girl like that-- Plenty to go around."
Ghost laughed. "Thought we'd 'ave trouble gettin' Johnny to keep 'is 'ands to 'imself, and you're the one droolin'."
"Scuse me for having eyes, mate. Just think she looks sweet."
"We'll get to see first 'and soon.” Ghost clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on lads. Let's get ready."
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You wake up on the hard metal floor of a moving vehicle, your pounding head cradled in someone's hands. That's what you notice first, and the thumbs rubbing circles against your neck soothingly.
It has the opposite effect. Your eyes fly open.
“Hi, bonnie,” a somewhat familiar face grins down at you, blue eyes smiling, but too intense, glittering in the low light that filters in from the windows at the front of the truck. “How’s yer head?”
You grimace, trying to make sense of what’s going on around you. The back of the van seems to be filled with boxes. “Aren’t you Finn and Rory’s uncle?”
“Aw, ye remember me? Knew ye were a sweetheart.”
You try to sit up, but Johnny puts a strong hand on your shoulder and keeps you where you are. Your head feels too heavy to try and fight him, your muscles weak. “What’s going on?” you ask. “What— Is this a kidnapping?”
“Tha’s an ugly word, bonnie. We’re doin’ ye a favour, really. Settin’ ye up with someone respectable. Captain’ll take good care of ye.” He pats your cheek. “Whyna get back to sleep? Still a ways to go, aye?”
Maybe it’s just a bad, weird dream. You do feel foggy, like you’re not fully attached to your body, and keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You’ll wake up back in your own bed, and have a funny story to tell if you ever bump into Johnny again. He’s definitely too nice to be a kidnapper, right? Like, people don’t really do that sort of thing. It has to be a dream.
“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes close again.
As you suspected, you wake up again in bed. The headache’s receded some, and there’s warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. You bury your face into the pillows, and then bolt upright. The pillow smells weird, like sweet tobacco and spice, and you don’t get morning sun in your bedroom. The window faces a brick wall across a narrow alley.
The room you’re in now is not your room. It’s sparsely furnished, just a dresser under the window and the bed you’re tucked into, and two doors, one that’s clearly a closet, and one that must lead out into the rest of the… house? Judging by the sound of birdsong outside, you’re out of the city.
You pad to the window and look out. There’s a van in the driveway, and three men carrying things in. One of them looks up and spots you in the window, waving cheerfully.
Not a dream. Fear grips you, ice sliding down your spine, shards settling in your stomach, needling and uncomfortable. Your sinuses prickle like you’re about to cry, but no tears come. You’re too dehydrated to summon them. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out— It’s fully daylight outside, but you have no idea what time. A second look around the room finds a digital clock sitting on the nightstand, 3:05 glaring back at you in red.
There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open. The man who walks in is handsome, smiling at you so beautifully that your automatic response is to try and smile back, although you feel that it’s flimsy, unsure. There’s no chance that this man is here to help you, but you at least hope he’s not here to hurt you either.
“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice is as pleasant as his face is, smooth and cheerful, although it makes you wary about him on principle. “You hungry?”
You shake your head. It’s not true, but you can’t trust that there wouldn’t be drugs in anything they give you.
“Well, come on downstairs, hm? Get some water at least. Maybe a tea?”
Your stomach churns. “I might be sick,” you manage to squeak out. He quickly ushers you out into the hall and into a bathroom. You don’t make it to the toilet, but you do manage to make it to the sink. If you had a little more fire in you, you might have tried to vomit bile onto the pretty man’s shoes, but it’s hard to shake the instinct to be good, not to make any trouble, to hope that they’ll just let you go. You’re not even sure what they want. You have no family to ransom, you don’t have any money to speak of, you’re just a fat little ex-nanny still paying off an English Literature degree from a second-rate college.
You turn on the sink to wash away the sick, and rinse your mouth out. Your hands start shaking when you realize your toothbrush is sitting in the holder next to the sink, like it belongs there. Your makeup bag is sitting on the counter too, and when you look down, you realize you’re standing on your own bathmat, taken from your home and arranged here, as if effects from your own house are supposed to make you feel comfortable. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and then at the man still standing in the doorway, his brown eyes all concern, as if he wasn’t party to a fucking nightmare.
You straighten up, gripping the counter to steady yourself. “What the hell is this?” you ask, trying to inject some authority into your quaking voice. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”
“I’m Gaz. Nice to meet you. Johnny had lots of nice things to say about you.”
So that hadn’t been a dream either. You look around the room desperately, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, but Gaz seems to know exactly what you’re doing, and he steps into your space quickly to grab your hands.
“None of that. Come on. You’ll feel better after a tea, yeah? Then you can get ready to meet the captain.”
He leads you downstairs. Questions spin around your head, but you’re not sure if it’s worth asking. Gaz only bothered to respond to one of the three you’ve asked so far, and it wasn’t the one that you were most interested in an answer to. So you stay quiet instead, taking in the layout of the big room. A front door and a back door, and windows that look out onto a forest on one side of the property, and more forest on the other side, beyond a large cleared space with a neat garden and a few fruit trees. There’s a second building that you can just see the corner of from the kitchen window, more likely a garage than a neighbour.
Gaz backs you up against the counter and leans down slightly, his hands gripping your thighs. You panic, the touch surprising you, and slap him across the face. The sharp sound makes you freeze, like it wasn’t you that had done it. He takes advantage of your surprise to shove you up onto the counter and grab both your hands with one of his, all the friendliness draining our of his eyes in an instant as he points a scolding finger at you. You feel like you’ve done something naughty that you’re not fully aware of the implications of yet, a badly trained dog or a child. “I’m going to let that one slide, because I understand that this is a big change for you. But you’re not going to like what happens if you try that again, understood?”
You nod quickly, your own eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry,” you say, the instinct for appeasement rearing it’s skittish little head.
And then the smile returns, as pretty as before, storm clouds blowing away as though they’d never been there to begin with. “It’s alright, doll. Just don’t do it again. And definitely don’t try that attitude on with the captain.” He taps the pointing finger against your nose playfully, and lets your hands drop back into your lap.
The rules seem simple enough. Be good and sweet, and get friendly faces in return, to a degree. No matter how cooperative you are, you doubt they’re going to let you go home. Fighting back means consequences, and you’re not sure how far those consequences will extend. If you’re too much trouble, it’s not a stretch to imagine that they’ll just kill you outright and try again with a meeker woman. You don’t yet know if death would be the more preferable outcome.
You pull your sweater down over your thighs. The black zip-up hoodie isn’t yours (the word Riley is stitched onto the front of it), but it’s big, and even though it smells faintly of cigarettes, it affords you at least a little modesty and comfort, more than the tank top and the sleep-shorts you’re wearing underneath do. Riley must be the third man. Was he the captain? Or was there a fourth one somewhere?
Johnny comes through the door carrying your suitcases, and he grins widely when he sees you, the charming, boyish one that you’d thought was handsome before. It’s only unnerving now. “Didja have a good sleep, bonnie?”
“You drugged me,” you accuse.
“Weel, of course. You were no’ goan ta come all peaceable, and LT wouldna be patient if ye were cryin’ the whole way here.” He trots upstairs, and you can hear him drop the bags with a thump, before he’s clattering back down the steps and leaning against the counter next to you. “How’d’ye like yer new home, bonnie? S’a nice place, aye? Better than tha’ little shoebox back in the city.”
“I like my apartment,” you protest.
“Psh, ye’d say tha’. Puttin’ on a brave face since yer such a good girl. But it wasna verra safe, was it? No’ a single neighbour paid us any mind while we were loadin’ up yer things. No’ a good place for a single girl, aye?” He reaches out and puts a big hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Now ye’ll be taken care of, like ye should be.”
“I don’t want to be taken care of.”
“Nonsense. Ye’ll be glad, once ye get used to things. Already looks real homey in here, don’t ye think?” He gestures at the living room.
You twist to look, and your stomach sinks. Your throw pillows are on the couch, one of the afghans you crocheted hanging over the back of it. You recognize the titles of your books on the shelves. These men were nothing if not thorough, surgically removing your entire life and transplanting it to this house in the woods, with it’s wood panel walls and big, overstuffed leather couches.
He continues blithely, like he’s not delivering some of the most horrifying news you’ve ever heard. “Most of your furniture’s in the garage, ye can sort tha’ out with Price, aye? But we brought all yer clothes and decorations and whatnot in. Figure ye should wear tha’ pretty black sundress, an’ those long stockin’s with the clippy belt, ye ken the one? Cap’ll like those.”
They’d been through all your things. If you had anything left to throw up, you might’ve again. Gaz sets a glass of water on the counter next to you. “How d’you take your tea, doll?”
“Milk, two sugars,” Johnny answers for you. “Our sweet lass has a sweet tooth, aye?”
“How do you know that?” You can hear the quiver in your voice, and it doesn’t slip by either of them.
“Come oan, hen, ye ken I didna jus’ pick ye off the street. Did my research. Wouldna pick just anyone for the captain.”
“When he said he’d found the perfect girl, we didn’t believe him at first,” Gaz says, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen while the tea steeps. “But Ghost and I knew he was right, soon as we saw you.” He nods at the glass. “Drink your water. You haven’t had anything since last night.”
“Is it drugged?” you ask flatly.
“No, want ye awake for when Price gets here. Yer a real cute thing asleep, but we want him ta hear yer pretty voice and see that smile, aye?” Johnny reaches past you and picks up the glass of water, taking a big swig to demonstrate it’s harmlessness.
You take a careful sip when he hands it back to you, and then another, resisting the urge to just gulp the whole thing down. The door opens again, and the biggest man you’ve seen in your life walks in, wearing a black t-shirt and a mask with the jaw of a skull printed on it, pulled up over the lower half of his face. He looks at you dispassionately, and then at Gaz and Johnny. “What the ‘ell have you two muppets been sayin’ to the poor thing?” he asks, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. “She looks like she’s gonna faint.”
“Figure she’s just peaky,” Gaz says defensively. “I’m making her tea.”
The big guy swats Johnny’s hand away from your knee impatiently, and cages you in against the counter, one huge arm on either side of you. “How’re you feelin’ bird? Be honest.”
“Terrified,” you admit.
He chuckles. “Sensible, considerin’. But you don’t need to worry, olright? No one’s gonna hurt you, so long as you’re good. And you want to be good, don’t you, bird?”
You nod. You’d thought Gaz and Johnny were big, but this one’s huge, broad and tall and even scarier. It’s clear why they started off introducing themselves to you in the order they did. If this man had been the first thing you’d seen after waking up you probably would have gone into hysterics.
“Use your words, pet.”
“I want to be good,” you say obediently, because you don’t see any other options, at least for the moment.
“Good girl,” he says, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.
Somehow, this is the most comforting thing that you’ve experienced all day. You won’t be hurt if you’re good, and you are being good.
He pushes back from the counter slightly, giving you more space, takes the mug of tea from Gaz, and hands it off to you. “Small sips,” he instructs. “And maybe a biscuit, if you think you can keep it down.”
“Are you the captain?” you ask nervously, gripping the mug with two hands.
“Hm? No. ‘e’s still about an hour out. I’m Simon. Ghost to these two.” He fishes an open package of biscuits out of the cupboard and sets them next to you. “Once you finish your tea, we’ll get you ready. Want to make a good first impression, right bird?”
“Not really,” you admit. “I’d like to go home.”
He laughs, at least finding your honesty amusing. “That won’t be ‘appenin’. If Price dun’t want you, I’ll keep you myself. But I’ll tell you right now, you’ll like Price better. If you’re good for him, he’ll be real good to you, understood?”
You bite your tongue. It won’t do you any good to point out that a man that would accept a person as a gift is probably not capable of being good to anyone. Good is subjective, and the three men in front of you are lunatics. Their captain probably has the slightest bit stronger a grasp on his sanity, or a consistent moral code, if not a particularly righteous one. So you just keep your mouth shut, and drink your tea, and eat two chocolate digestives while Gaz and Johnny start collecting things to make dinner.
As soon as you set your empty mug to the side Ghost pops you down from the counter and ushers you upstairs with a big hand placed a little too low on your back. He tells you what to wear (down to the lingerie), but blessedly doesn’t insist on watching you get dressed. He does sit on the edge of the tub and watch you put on makeup, however, requesting red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Your hands are still a little shaky, but you manage to do as he asks. His eyes smile at you just a little when you’re obedient. You feel pathetic for not making a fuss, but you’re not sure what you can possibly do, except something stupid that will make them angry enough to hurt you.
He helps you into a pair of strappy red heels that had been languishing in the back of your closet before they dug everything out, and straightens the seam of your stockings, running his big hands up your calves. It’s like you’re a doll, dressed just how he wants, something to look pretty and say less than nothing, a gift for some other man you’ve never met to keep on a shelf.
Or worse, to play with.
You hear Johnny and Gaz greet someone downstairs, their voices loud and excited, and your heart skips nervously.
Ghost rises to his feet, smiling so big you can see it even with the mask. “Wait right here, pet,” he says firmly, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed while he goes off to greet his captain. “Want to introduce you proper.”
So you sit, and you wait, shaking and nervous, for what feels like eternity, until you hear Simon’s surprisingly light footfalls on the stairs again. He offers you a hand, and hoists you over his shoulder as soon as you’re on your feet, carrying you down into the living room.
“We all pitched in,” Gaz says, as casually as if he meant throwing in five dollars for a card. “But she was Soap’s idea.”
“Picked ‘er out special, Cap,” Johnny says. “She’s perfect for ye.”
“She?” an unfamiliar voice asks. “Don’t tell me you got me a dog.”
“Better than that, skipper.” Ghost laughs as he circles around the couch, and drops you carefully into the man’s lap, stepping into line with the other two. “We got you a wife.”
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I've been low-key thinking about this concept since I read ohbo-ohno's Don't Leave Me Locked in Your Heart a while back (If you haven't read and you like a good dark fic, you should click that link, you may enjoy it). I think getting someone a person as a gift, or being given as a gift, rather, is a fun fucked up fantasy to explore. I'm not entirely sure where I'll take this but I promise to put in content warnings. Let me know if I miss something, I don't want anyone to be surprised by what they find!
Image Credits: Banner
Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune
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sensitiveheartless · 8 months
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@originalaccountname holy shit Fukuchi with Statler and Waldorf tagging along and making fun of him everywhere he goes (also I did base Fukuchi's appearance off of them XD)
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Statler and Waldorf have the special ability Peanut Gallery which renders them fully immune to physical damage, rendering Fukuchi's frequent attempts to murder them completely ineffective!
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also THISSS oh my gosh ok I've been having thoughts—
So, you know the whole thing of people in bsd developing abilities based on trauma?
Same thing happens in this AU, but they also become muppets at the same time! So pretty much every muppet was once a human, unless they're like Adam or Elise or Demon Snow and are projections of a muppet ability user. (Adam is a robot muppet built by a muppet [dr. Wollstonecraft, very smol]. He is very comfortable with this.)
This means that Chuuya, who doesn't remember where he came from, is worried that he might be a fully artificial muppet who was never a human being to begin with. This isn't helped by the fact that he joins the Sheep, who are all humans, so for most of his teen years Chuuya has to feel weird about being the lone muppet in his group of peers. This changes a bit when he joins the mafia, because suddenly he's around a lot of fellow muppets (and Dazai, who can temporarily turn Chuuya human again, which Chuuya really hopes is proof that he was in fact human at some point)
And Verlaine IS a fully artificial muppet, created to house a singularity, and he has decided to make it everyone else's problem! He is a murder muppet, in fact. A murppet. (Also I have been cackling over "Chuuya's a real muppet you're just sad you miserable pile of felt" ever since I read it thank you so much Nawy, every time I reread it it sends me off again skfjksdfj)
...So in the end I guess I have given Chuuya the exact same crisis as in canon, just with an extra layer of existential muppet dread over the top of it all. Hmm.
And now, other comments on my previous post that I want to highlight because they have been filling me with such joy:
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^I feel like that last one works really well with what I've come up with for stormbringer, because the stitches/stain can be Chuuya's proof that he did in fact exist before the lab (Mori finds records of a muppet having to be patched up after a fight with a kid) and thus was not created in the lab (although he was already a muppet)
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iamacolor · 5 months
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Will you really be okay...leaving me behind like this?
MOON IN THE DAY - EPISODE 12
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buwheal · 4 months
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Can I give Spamton a hug??
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a-little-artsy · 20 days
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hey gang sorry for being late to the club
anyway I read TSS
Im
Okay
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HE LOOKS SO ADORABLE IN THE SUIT AJSJAKWNKDJSJEF
sorry if writing looks wonky i tried using lasso tool heartbreaking emoji,,,
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canisalbus · 5 months
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As someone whose entire extended family lives in Sicily irl and they're all super catholic i am delighted by Machete's place of origin??? I literally feel like that meme with the anime girl that's like "(Location) mentioned!!!" anytime it comes up lol
Anyways I love reading OC lore so your blog is always a treat 😎
.
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turtleblogatlast · 1 month
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Do you ship any of the turtles with anyone? or do you ship anything in rise at all?
(This ended up being a lot longer an answer than I intended hoo boy sorry about that)
Hmmm, I’m not too big a shipper tbh! Especially since I really enjoy canon interactions backing my ships, so it’s hard for me to actively like any that don’t really have that going for them. There’s plenty that I see around that I think are cute, but that’s usually the extent of my thought process for them.
For ships I more actively have, I guess I like AprilxSunita! They’re very very cute and I think they have some huge meet cute energy in their first episode together, and their chemistry is genuinely adorable (plus them being featured means more April screentime which is ALWAYS a good thing.)
I also think AprilxCasey (and when I say Casey I mean our OG girl) is really good, as I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers, and I think they have a lot in common and just bounce off each other very well (not to mention this ship in other iterations of TMNT has a loooooot going for it.)
Keeping the chain going, I think RaphxCasey (again, OG Casey) is also one with a tonnnnn of potential. They have a lot of common characteristics, and considering Raph’s whole thing with Franken-Foot, I really think there’s a lot of room there for a relationship to develop. Plus, like AprilxCasey, Raph and Casey tend to have a close relationship throughout the iterations of TMNT and it would be great to see that more with these two, even if not romantically.
Actually going back to enemies to lovers, I unironically think there’s a ton going for DonniexKendra. I know a lot of people hate this ship, but I don’t and I actually think it could very easily work whether in a love-hate way or a slow burn way. There’s a lot to like here and honestly they’re good together! Kendra is legit Donnie’s type too haha (cute, but mean.)
Lastly, SplinterxDraxum is good…when done right. I really like when people take it and don’t undermine the very real trauma that Splinter has gone through. As I’ve stated a lot, I love me some enemies to lovers, so I can see the potential here. Plus lbr Draxum was down BAD for Lou Jitsu when he first saw him haha.
I think that’s the extent to what I actively like? Everything else usually falls into “aw cute” or “ehhh not for me thanks”. And before you ask YES leosagi is cute and I’ll read fics with it if the premise is appealing, but I’m afraid I need some canon interactions to establish base character dynamics before I actively ship it alas.😔 Super cute though, no hate to it or any of the other CanonxCharacter-they’ve-never-met ships, I genuinely think people should just have fun! And for what it’s worth I really do wish we got a Usagi and Leo interaction in Rise like we have in other iterations.:(
So yeah. Overall, I have a few ships I enjoy, but I fall much more in the “prefer to keep everyone to themselves and make the focus family and friendship” category.
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maulsoleum · 11 months
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when i run into the woods to never return i will breathe my first breath of fresh air
and when they find my remains they will only find that of a dog, not of a person
and i will have died happy
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benetnvsch · 20 days
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 1 month
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Mo Ran fails to master the art of pspsps (continuation of this)
(For @airagorncharda)
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ntj2pj · 1 month
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#madness combat#madcom oc#my oc#atp soldat#the soldat in the dark (tm) actually cares about his bro#a lot#but he just can't get sad when he warned him about this shit nonstop#no id#The bitten guy just acts too friendly because his program made him too altruistuc and kind#Which sometimes helps since he is one who recruits workers#Well#Probably it's more benefitial most of the time#But he gets in shit like “oh i just wanted to help civilian get out from dangerous location and they stabbed me :(((”#And he ain't bullied for it by anyone but his bro. He is too... Kinda. Uh. Hard to bully guy who is most safest option to talk with auditor#And not die lol. It also doesn't help that he is guy who knows all of the AAHW by names and will kick you hard for bullying anyone#So bullying him is a privilege of some atp soldats#not an option :D#Other soldat here is just walking anger issues and he got no friends other than his bro. Constantly lashes at anyone. The Bitten™ included#So they're got that dynamic of angry antisocial cynical guy and pessimist & optimistic kind dude (well#(well he got a lot of mental issues too#But doesn't show it and never let it hurt others.)#And he is much older than the pessimist :'D#Pessimist guy is very young actually. But just experienced shit nonstop from birthday and lost very much everyone he cared about#And the second one... just atp soldat with no past. never known any other thing than work in AAHW and orders. Easy to manipulate#He also gets “You're not a real person” a lot for it. And constanly offended by it. But it's a problem of all yellow bloods here#Especially him#since he litterally didn't had a life outside from aahw. Also don't think he wouldn't kick his friends hard for orders.#Kill even. He is a dog for orders first#Kind guy with good morals is only second
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esmiara · 1 year
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Today, I offer you two of my biggest obsessions slowly merging together: BSD Demon Slayer AU
This is basically the adventures of Atsushi as Tanjiro, except his own is very different and moon themed instead of sun themed (so might be related to demons in more than one way as well). Kyouka is -not her sister despite me putting her in Nezuko's role- a demon girl he (Atsushi) passed upon. This strange girl seems to struggle against her demon nature, thinking she killed her own family. But did she really? In front of a completely demolished house, Atsushi finds this story very strange, so he decides to look more into it, thus protecting Kyouka from other slayers. He himself is probably an orphan, rescued then trained by some slayer (probably not Dazai though) when he was very little, so little in fact he surely doesn't even remember seeing his gamily be killed by a certain demon. Who might be this demon? Who knows... I wonder if he roars beneath moonlight...?
Soukoku and suegiku (yes those two are dressed as Shinobu and Giyu, nobody will take my Tecchou=Giyu off of me) are there as well, not doing much for now but still having to deal with their exhausting partners.
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release-the-hound · 7 months
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as a havanese owner, what would you say their energy levels are like? trainability? grooming needs? looking into getting small dogs in the future and havanese are on the list of possibilities
I think part of the reason Havanese are so wonderful for so many people is that their energy levels are extremely variable. A well bred Havanese should match its energy levels to its owners for the most part. There are days where I have only taken Whim outside to potty, and spent the rest of my time sick in bed, and she has happily cuddled up next to me and slept by my side. But she has also happily galloped alongside me for a 5km run, and been eager for more. Ultimately what Havanese want more than a specific amount of activity, is to be doing activity with their person.
Of course, I always celebrate doing more with your dog. I try to give Whim at least a 20 minute walk daily. Along with minimum 5 minutes dedicated training session and a food puzzle for enrichment. Often I am able to do more than that.
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(One if my favorite off-leash adventures with Whim. A 3 hour walk through unusually deep snow. So many sniffs and lots of excellent recalls!)
When my sister died, I was frequently doing less, for weeks. And she didn't devolve into a frustrated barking mess, didn't chew up my apartment, she was a little bored, but she was never miserable. She just lay in my bed, by my side, day after day, until I was ready to face the world again.
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(I cannot overstate how good Whim is at cuddling. If there was an international competition for it, she'd win it every year.)
I really think for disabled people, Havanese have the ideal energy level. You can meet their base needs fairly easily, but if you are up for adventure they're always ready to come along for a ride.
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(Whim travels frequently on airplanes with me, and is always complimented on her good behavior.)
Grooming needs are the sticking point for many people, unfortunately. While Havanese are genrtically capable of producing a short coat, it's against the breed standard, and so I don't know of anyone intentionally breeding for that.
For me, a non-shedding dog is worth extra grooming, but I know that's not the case for a lot of people. I have Whim shaved about every 4 to 6 months. This means that I go over her coat to comb out any mats about once a week, and I trim the fur out of her eyes on occassion. But other than that, I dont worry about grooming. I bathe her when she's stinky and trim her nails when they get long, which you need to do with every dog. I know @girlhorse keeps Enzo in a much fuller coat. If you want to keep a fuller coat, she might be willing to talk about the grooming experience.
It's also worth noting that due to their small size, combing Whim's fur is like, a 20 minute process.
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(I often miss Whim's coat from when I kept her long. She was so unbelievably adorable.)
Havanese are my FAVOURITE dogs to train bar none. I'm not a professional trainer in any sense of the word, but between group classes and my job I have seen how a lot of dogs learn. @thelittlespanielthatcould and I often compare Havs to a CKCS with a little more spunk. They are very clever and very eager to work with you, but when they have an opinion they make it clear.
Whim can be entirely focused on me for an hour long lesson. But she won't do work she's not fairly compensated for. Personally, I like a dog that won't let me push them around. If it's a hot day and I haven't given Whim enough water breaks, she'll march herself over to her bowl whenever she damn well pleases. If I'm not using a high enough value treat, she will take it from my hand and spit it on the ground. I like these things because I like dogs that set their own boundaries. I want my dog to tell me when she is tired or thirsty, when I'm not rewarding enough, when she's frightened. Because I get clear feedback from her on what I'm doing wrong, I can alter my methods very quickly to keep us in sync. I like that my dog can tell me something so clearly and I can say back to her "ok, I'm listening."
Whim does very well in Rally when I can afford the classes. She loved agility. Havanese also make great trick dogs. They have amazing handler focus (once they mature). They love spending time with you, so they love training. You just have to be fair to them. I guess I'd describe them as eager to engage, but not eager to please. She wants to spend time with me, she wants to play my games, but she isn't afraid to stand her ground if she's not having fun. Training her brings me so much fucking joy. Even writing about it now has put a smile on my face.
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(Whim and I had so much fun in agility. She loved the tunnels so much she used to go off course just to run them a second or third time. Until I started bringing out the big guns (cheese) and suddenly she was an angel again lol.)
Realistically, no breed is ever going to be ideal for every person on the planet. But 2 words come to mind when I think of Havanese. Fexible: they thrive in many different living situations, energy levels, and activities. And Communicative, about their needs, their desires, their fears, their pain. They make it easy for dog owners to figure out what to do. For these reasons, I think Havanese match well with a lot more people than the average dog breed.
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Whim has been my best friend for more than a decade. I have never second-guessed my decision to bring her into my life. I wake up every day knowing that I am profoundly loved. In my brightest moments I picture a future of adventure unfurling before us. In my darkest, her joy reminds me how to find my own.
TL,DR: Get a Havanese.
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