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lucithecrow · 1 year

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My mum has fostered dogs for as long as I can remember and ya know it's kind of traumatic to build a relationship with a dog and then see them die and to have this happen like every day but I guess I did get something out of my mum fostering dogs.

Oh, what did I get out of it, you ask?

Well... I fucking hate hound dogs. Idc what u say I will never forgive these stupid dogs from ruining my fucking life. Never. I hate most dogs but hound dogs are the ones u see most often and the most obnoxious of them all.

Imagine me, a sad child that wants to die, coming home to find out every single fucking stuffed animal I own has been ripped to shreds AGAIN because of these FUCKING DOGS. UGH. Every damn time I leave my door open for an hour and go back to find out this new fucker has taken the first present my dad EVER GAVE ME THAT WASNT A ROCK- and there she was, Cream Soda, her ear torn off and her leg as well. Would u not hate hound dogs forever? My dad has never paid attention to me and then one day he gave me a present! Finally! Poor little me (probably 10?) Getting his first present from dad, a cute stuffed rabbit that didn't look like he picked it up off the side of the road.

And then BAM. Here comes a new asshat to ruin any happiness I had and tear my Cream Soda (the rabbits name) to bits. AND THEN. my dear best friend gets me a present, a little cat that's donut themed, and guess what? That's right. A different fucking hound dog took it and no one even knows where that stuffie is, WE NEVER EVEN FOUND THEM.

I hate hound dogs. Nothing u could say will ever change my mind. They're so loud and "ph think about how they were abandoned by their owners, they don't know better!" Well guess what, I don't give a shit, actually. I hope those fuckers get eaten in a delicious soup. Assholes.

(Btw y'all, my hate for hound dogs is real, but I mostly blame my mum for letting them tear my shit up so dw I'm not hostile towards them)

#foster dog #i hate hound dogs #hound dog #rant post #idk anymore #i think im losing my mind #my bad #this was long #lmao whoops #i dont invoke or wish harm upon any hound dogs #at least #sometimes #thats regarding the wish part #not the invoke part #i dont hurt dogs #trust me

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daybreakrising · 18 days

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HEADCANONS - WHO IS G.ALLAGHER?

this should go without saying, but just in case: SPOILERS FOR 2.2 STORY AHEAD. this will be tagged but not under a cut, so proceed with caution if you're not caught up yet.

so, since 2.2 refuted one of my favourite theories for g.allagher's identity, much to my disappointment, i've opted to keep my hcs as is and make my portrayal CANON DIVERGENT. this is also in part because i've already developed (or started developing) certain dynamics that rely on him following this particular identity and i don't want to throw that out / limit it to an AU verse, especially given interactions with "g.allagher" are now pretty restricted for anything post 2.2.

MINOR CANON COMPLIANCE

there are certain aspects i will keep, of course. namely, that he is a pathstrider of the enigmata, and that "g.allagher" is a created form specifically designed for p.enacony. he does deliberately "borrow" traits from the Family members as s.unday describes to create this image.

and, to an extent, "g.allagher" as we know him has ceased to exist following the events of the story. however, a different form was created in its place that shares some of the traits of the previous one - a new g.allagher, if you will.

THE TRUE "G.ALLAGHER"

prior to 2.2, i ascribed to the theory that g.allagher was a potential "human form" for the memory zone meme Death, that he was Death itself (saying he was Thirteen played a lot into this, obviously) - and i took this and ran wild with it. and, so:

he does not control Something Unto Death/Dormancy. he is Something Unto Death/Dormancy.

"g.allagher" does not have a singular true form - at least, not one that is known or has ever been seen. instead, he creates various 'characters' that he can shift between at will. for p.enacony, these were the human guise of g.allagher and the memetic entity itself. whilst in either of these forms, he can also alter individual aspects of his appearance at will - though these are usually temporary and used as a means of unsettling or intimidating enemies.

quick note: this portrayal of g.allagher will occasionally involve minor descriptions of body horror for this reason. i can and will leave these out for people who are uncomfortable with that, so if that applies to you, please let me know during discussion/plotting prior to interactions! these descriptions will never be graphic/too horrific, but i still don't want to make anyone uncomfortable unknowingly.

the primary form is the memetic entity, and as such, there is a certain bleed through into the human 'g.allagher'. these include the elements of g.allagher's attacks and the glow that shines through his scars and forms his claws. there's also occasionally an unsettling presence about him that certain others can pick up on, particularly those who are also possibly not quite human.

KEY INFORMATION

his role in the story is unchanged. his involvement with the w.atchmaker remains the same, etc. he's still a history fictionologist. given there's so little information available for this faction, i don't see a reason to tweak this (yet).

very few people know he and the memetic entity are the same. canon characters that could fall into this category include m.isha (obviously), sunday, robin, and s.amfly. for sunday and robin, this will largely be post-story (as in, after he fckn stabs them-). s,amfly i would accept prior knowledge of due to script reasons. as an additional note, i hc that siobhan knows something is weird about g.allagher (as one of the few who seems to know him & interacts with him in a way that implies a history between them - and as someone who regularly deals with & has experience with inhuman creatures) but she simply doesn't ask questions.

g.allagher and "dormancy" have different personalities - g.allagher has been carefully crafted a certain way to fit the role he needs to play. when g.allagher breaks this character, that is "dormancy" bleeding through. g.allagher's personality is a blend of borrowed traits from the Family and hints, perhaps, of the fictionologist who created him...

post-2.2 story, "g.allagher" is recreated but with altered traits from the original. the new form is in a similar age range appearance-wise, has a similar colouring (though his hair is longer), and also has visible scarring though the scars themselves are different.

he can still be found around p.enacony in both forms, though the human g.allagher (2.0) is more likely to be found in reality whilst the memetic entity remains in the dreamscape.

#// hsr spoilers #( i've been staring at this for so long now idk if it even makes sense anymore )#( i hate how little information there is available )#( i struggled so much with this entire story bc it's just. massive infodumps one after the other and i legit zone out so fast )#( but anyway. this is my boy. he's a lil Creature who is more than a lil fucked up sometimes )#( still not sure if i wanna take the dog/hound references more literally yet )#( perhaps the true form of the fictionologist who creates these characters is tied to that ? or was it added as flavour )#( hmmmmmmm )#( i'll cook on that some more another time )#;what do they call me? lapdog? (headcanons; gallagher)

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gyubby99 · 11 months

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Headcanon Alastor getting a jumpscare when he sees Becca and Loona at his wedding

#''Lilly... why are there hounds at the wedding yk i hate dogs''

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jukeboxhound · 10 months

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One of the things I love about my perfect babygirl, besides everything, is that I can't take her anywhere without someone giddily exclaiming over how fluffy she is.

Sometimes it's a biff cis dude. Often it's a child, and as soon as I say it's okay, their tiny hands are immediately sinking into her fluffiness.

She is, indeed, very soft and fluffy.

#thank gods she's a dog who loves pets from anyone and everyone #i grew up with a chowchow mix dog nearly as fluffy who HATED anyone who wasn't my father (i was just Tolerated lmao)#so it's kinda wild getting used to a dog that wants to be friends with the whole world #.....well. kind of. in a very husky way. not like a golden retriever way #hound barks

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waitinginthecorner · 1 year

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The stench of those wax melts I have makes me think of seeing a boy and it makes me want to sniff the boy I currently like. I wanna know what he smells like

#srry not sorry im a bit of a sniffer #invite me into your residence...i will be sniffin #taking notes of the various scents and such. like a hound dog of sorts #rambling #tht being said i hate being sniffed out myself

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daycourtofficial · 19 days

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Ferocious beasts with soft bellies

Pairing: Eris x Rhys’s sister!reader | WC: 2.5k | warnings: mentions of pregnancy, some violence from dogs

Summary: Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Author’s note: hi everyone!!! Thanks for joining me this week, I hope you had a great time!! This one ends on a note I didn’t expect it to, but I do have plans to write follow-ups I kinda wanted to break this up into two. Also this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read as a standalone okay love ya bye 😘

Eris’s hounds were incredibly well-trained. He spent thousands of hours when they were pups instilling in them commands, tracking and hunting skills, and alerting him to intruders on the property.

At least, they used to be well-trained.

These days Clover, the leader of the pack, would not allow you out of her sight. All twelve hounds wandered through your house as they pleased, often keeping you company in Eris’s absence. They would lounge about, finding warm sunny spots throughout the house to take afternoon naps in. You’d usually have one or two lazily trail you around the house, staying in the beds you had placed in several of the rooms.

Lately their attachment and sudden devotion to you was getting out of hand. Clover was practically sewn into your side the way she followed you around - she hardly let you out of her sight, keeping an eye on you at all times, following you as you moved through the house. She was even beginning to ignore Eris’s commands, opting to stay at your feet, following you around the house, or with her head curled on your lap.

When you and Eris publicly began your mateship, you had begged him to allow the dogs into your shared bed. “Just one,” you had pouted, “I don’t like waking alone.”

Despite his grumbling, Eris had obliged your request. Things with your family were still quite rough - it had been almost a year by now since you left the Night Court, being unceremoniously abdicated from the throne. You had been in contact with most of your family by this point except for Rhysand, who was still refusing to speak with you since he forced you out of ‘his court’, as he had called it.

Despite your best efforts, Eris still felt guilty over it, the rift in your family caused by the discovery of your mateship. You usually tried to soothe him, not wanting him to feel guilt over the decisions you made. You would choose him over and over again, and problems with Rhysand or any member of your family were not going to stop that from continuing. Besides, his guilt would be better suited as ire towards Rhysand.

Sometimes you did use his guilt to get what you want.

Which is why it initially did take Clover much coaxing to jump into the bed at all, a notion she thought ridiculous at first, but once her paws melted into the mattress, she was quick to lay directly on your side of the bed, placing her head atop your pillow.

“Traitor,” Eris had muttered as you cuddled up to her, petting her soft head.

After getting her into the bed, Clover spent most nights curled up at your feet or by your side, your nights often spent squished between her long body and Eris’s. Soon enough, you were back to asking Eris for another one to sleep in your bed.

“So Clover doesn’t get lonely.”

He spent ages debating with you that no, she doesn’t need a companion in bed with her. It was ridiculous. The three of you were enough for one bed, and he hated to think of how a second hound would complicate things.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he did quite enjoy it when he’d throw an arm around you in the middle of the night and his fingers would meet Clover’s soft fur from the other side of you.

It also soothed some minor worry in him to have you protected from all sides, despite your being more than capable of defending yourself. The mating bond was a precious gift, but it was also a minor curse with the way it coursed through his veins, needing to protect you, to keep you safe, and to keep you both satiated.

“Er, our bed’s plenty big enough for more hounds.”

“Yes, but they’ll get too spoiled. You’ve already turned Clover rotten.”

“I have done no such thing,” you cross your arms, trying to look utterly appalled at his accusation. He gives you a pointed look, then turns his gaze behind you.

Your gaze turned to the hound seated behind you, her long limbs spread across your bed, her little leg kicks and soft snores bringing a small chuckle to your lips that you quickly turned into a scoff.

“That proves nothing.”

In the several months since allowing Clover and Cinnamon in your bed, they were still obedient. They left the bed without disturbing you in the mornings, they rotated who laid next to you and who slept at the foot of the bed, and they would never go to bed without either you or Eris prompting them to.

That all stopped a few weeks ago.

Eris’s hounds had always been fond of you - Eris had spoken of them for centuries before you were able to see any of them. The way he had spoken of them had helped you see he was capable of caring about something that wasn’t himself.

That was its own revelation.

Meeting the hounds was quite nerve-wracking for you - he told you they were quite cold to new fae, and they had detested Lucien’s overeagerness to befriend them - a grudge they still held many centuries later.

“I believe they smelled the desperation leaking from his pores, tainted their perception of him,” he quipped.

Despite Eris’ warnings, you were not prepared for them to warm up to you as much as they had. He brought out his most trusted hound, Clover, to meet you, and you’re not sure if it was the way Eris’ scent was forever entwined with your own, but she warmed to you immediately. She circled your legs before sitting directly next to you, placing her head beneath your hand.

“What does this mean?” you whisper to Eris, not wanting to scare her or set her off.

“She wants you to pet her.”

Your confused expression makes his eyes dance with amusement.

“Surely you understand that means to stroke her head.” He raises his hand in demonstration, petting the air with a bemused look on his face.

You huff, “she could bite me, I apologize for wanting to wait a moment before touching a creature you’ve told me is dangerous.”

“She is dangerous, but surely she’s capable of being more than one thing.”

Nowadays she was capable of such a feat - she was not only beloved by you, but she was also a constant thorn in your side.

It started with subtle things, conversations with Eris where you tried to express how odd they were behaving one night while you sat in Eris’ study, helping him sort through correspondence from his brothers about the lands they oversee.

“Clover followed me into the bathroom.”

“Perhaps I should put some cushions for her to lay down while you bathe. I’m fond of the sight, perhaps she is too.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m serious, Er. She’s behaving strangely.”

Eris set the letter from Moros down, his attention fixed on you. “You spoil her, she is merely being affectionate. You’ll get used to it.”

Eris was wrong, Clover’s behavior only getting worse as the days went on.

“Clover, stay.”

Clover’s brown eyes observed you, your finger pointing toward the floor indicating for her to stay, tone full of finality - a princess’s tone, a high lady’s tone. You were determined to get the hound to listen to you, commanding her to stay in your chambers.

You passed through the door, heading down to speak with one of your advisor’s who insisted he speak with you as soon as possible. You rolled your eyes just thinking about his current issue with one of the trade routes that flows into Spring and how last time he wanted to speak to you, you enjoyed watching the vein on his forehead throb at your reluctance to take his ill advice.

Perhaps during this meeting the vein will pop, at least then the meeting would come with entertainment.

You look down and are startled when you see Clover’s body in step with yours, her fur shimmering in the light as if she were smoke rising from the ground.

Cauldron boil me, Eris is going to kill me if I’ve ruined all of their training.

You stop, pointing in the opposite direction, whispering, “go, shoo Clover.” You don’t even want to consider how she got through the closed door.

Clover just sits in front of you, her gaze piercing, seeing something you can’t. You blow out a breath, hands running through your hair, “okay, you may come with me.”

You’d regret those words.

Clover strode into the room before you, sniffing the air as her nails clacked across the floor. Her focus shifted to the male in the room, Flint’s eyes narrowing at her. She moved her body closer to the floor as she stalked towards him, the hair along her spine raising into the shape of a fin. Her ears were pulled back, a low rumble emitting from her chest.

“Clover!”

Your voice is chastising, but Clover does not let her guard down as she slowly approaches Flint. His eyes are full of fear as she approaches, her feet circling him. He spins in a circle, not letting her eyes leave his.

“Clover!”

You whistle her stop command, but she ignores it. She circled Flint the way she circles mice and rabbits.

She always loved playing with her food.

“What is this? Control your hound.” Flint’s voice is annoyed as Clover raises her head, baring her teeth at him.

“I’m trying.”

You move forward, reaching to grab Clover’s neck, instead missing and falling forward towards Flint. His arms catch your forearms, but Clover was not a fan of his touch and her teeth swiftly sank into the leg of his trousers. Her grip was strong as she tugged at his pants, and he began stammering, shaking his leg trying to rid his pants of her. He backed away toward the door, and once he reached the threshold, Clover let go of her grip, almost causing the male to fall over.

Her growls echoed down the hall as she watched him run down the hall before scampering back towards you, confusion and shock on your face at all that just transpired.

The hound just licked your face gently before laying next to you, her head in your lap.

You sighed, certain that Eris would kill you for ruining Clover.

Later that night, Eris made hisbway to your shared chambers, a bit surprised to find you already asleep. The hour wasn’t too late, however he had caught you dozing while reading over some requests regarding equipment for some farms.

He stripped his clothes, the finery being replaced by some loose trousers before moving towards the bed to find that the hounds had placed themselves on either side of you, Cinnamon occupying his spot on the bed.

“Cinnamon, down.”

The brown hound does not listen to the command, the only response a long sigh of her breath. He stared at the hound - a seventy year old beast who was one of the easiest hounds he’d ever trained, knowing how he expected her to behave from an incredibly young age.

Cinnamon was no Clover, but she was second in their chain of command. Clover was on your other side, soft snores coming from her snout.

There was plenty of room in the bed for the two of you, the two hounds, and, truthfully, several more hounds. Your preference for larger beds from when you had your wings never left after you lost them.

Eris laid in the bed, determined he could outmaneuver his hounds. He moved a hand out to your face, stroking your hair before a soft growl cut him off.

His hand stilled, eyes wide at such a response from Cinnamon. His nostrils begin flaring, heat rising to the surface of his skin in anger. He could feel the roar of the bond in his ears, frustration boiling within him at the defiance and aggression at him touching his own mate.

He tried to swallow it down, refusing to erupt in his own bed while you slept peacefully next to him. His fuse was a short one, his temper always loosely held back by a quick tongue that allowed him to loosen the reins ever so slightly.

He watched them, their bodies curled around your own and thought about your complaints of them following you around, believing it to be a consequence of your softness towards them.

You were spoiling them rotten. You were a few weeks away from giving them table scraps, for Mother’s sake. But then his thoughts veered into Flint’s description of what occurred, Clover guarding you from Flint’s touch like a mother hen-

His heart stalls in his chest, a heavy realization settling over him as he sits up, Sierra growling softly at his abrupt movements.

You were pregnant. You had to be - it was the only logical conclusion other than all twelve of his hounds losing their minds simultaneously. They must be able to scent it on you before fae senses could pick them up.

He wonders briefly if Lucien’s magical eye could see it.

Eris lay frozen on the bed, his thoughts swirling with what to do, how he was going to handle this. He was still quite new to his tenure as high lord - the work wasn’t unexpected by any means, however his position was still quite vulnerable - new power always attracted violence attempting to see how far that power extended.

Things were still difficult in your personal lives - he and Lucien were on tenuous speaking terms, you and Rhysand were not on speaking terms. The two of you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

It was all so damn complicated - you hadn’t had a coronation as high lady yet, wanting to wait until Rhysand would show up to have the ceremony. The logistics of a babe at such a crucial turning point politically could open Eris up to glaring vulnerabilities.

Long fingers tap at his chest, trying to keep himself somewhat grounded in reality. He had no confirmation for this - his reasoning behind such a theory were founded on the strange behavior of his hounds. He was being a ridiculous fool to get so worked up over unconfirmed theories.

Yet the image of a swaddled little thing kept gnawing at his mind - tiny toes, a tiny nose, tiny fingers wrapping around his. He had adored his brothers when they were much younger, when the world under Beron could be disguised as a good place. Perhaps he could do it.

Eris laid awake for several hours, your soft breathing calming him as he sat and thought about all the possible ways he could ruin all of this.

A tiny part of him let himself hope that, in spite of it all, he wouldn’t.

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Thanks for reading 💕

#gingerfucker #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra

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beloved-blaiddyd · 2 months

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yandere half-dog!Gallagher and forgetful farmer!reader au medium effort doodles before I start my day lol.

Edit: more dog gallagher content here

Short additional brainrots:

(Y/n)'s family has a long history of adopting hounds, even including them in their family tree.

Initially, they have no plans on getting a dog. They can manage the farm just fine and was not interested in investing on livestock (chickens, sheep, cows, etc.) They're not confident enough in their abilities to raise an animal.

??? once belonged to another Family, which unfortunately treated him poorly. He was not given a name. There was a period in the summer wherein his owners forgot to give him water, and when he did hear the sound of liquid trickling down— he cringed at the taste. He still doesn't know if they were trying to kill him, but from them on, he loathed the taste of SoulGlad.

Needless to say... (Y/n)'s old man was surprised when they brought home a "mutt".

“He looks like he's dying. Pops, can't you help me out?”

“I thought you hate animals...”

“I just stink at taking care of 'em.” (Y/n) sighed. “Please? Poor thing looks like it's on its last leg.”

To this day, Gallagher isn't sure what exactly compelled them to help him. Even when asked, (Y/n) would say they forgot their own reasons behind taking him in. Perhaps he was just that pitiful— or maybe their (L/n) traits finally got to them. He's eternally grateful either way.

And so...

Gallagher gazed at the (L/n) Family tree, caressing his and (Y/n)'s image.

“Hey Master, ya don't have any plans on getting another hound, do ya?”

“Please, you're already a handful, Woos— Gallagher. I don't need another one.”

He grinned, eyes not straying away from the painted walls.

“Good.” He closed his eyes.

“Wouldn't want to share you with anyone else, y'know.”

(Y/n) laughed. “For an old dog, you seem like a clingy young pup.”

Gallagher nodded, savoring their voice. Refreshing, just like cold water on a warm day. You claimed that he's acting like a puppy, but when he was young? He was a biter. Not exactly the loving kind. It was best that you met him when he was already all grown up.

“Well... Perhaps that's just a sign I never got a chance to being one... But when I'm with you, I'm...”

He shook his head.

“Nevermind. What's the agenda for today, Master?”