The Purest Form Of Serotonin Is When A Cat Looks At U And U Go Like “what?” And It Meows At U

They’re having a very serious conversation about Cody’s behaviour (being mean to uncle Ben)

Pop anon. Boba is constantly just in awe of how Luke is Luke. Like he embodies Mandokarla? Mandokar but like Mando husband material. Boba is just like my emotions. They’ve been compromised. Pops I need a job on Tatooine. No I will not tell you why, no I did not shine my armor you’re crazy. No don’t come please. Why do you hate me? No you can’t come to visit your boyfriend. No don’t try to set me up with Bens neighbor. Father why must you betray me?

theeeeee very idea of jango trying to set up boba with “ben’s neighbor” while boba is simultaneously secretly dating luke and trying to convince jango he’s fine while jango is like “no no the skywalker boy is perfect for you wait no get back here—” 

meanwhile does ben know luke’s got a boyf? or is ben still not allowed in luke’s life in this au? lmao does owen know. wait this implies jango has met luke, with or without ben. implies he knows him well enough to know he’d be good for boba. how did jango meet luke.

~all creatures great and small~ (amazing illustration by the awesome @david-talks-sw)

“And just what exactly is it that you’ve been doing?”

Obi-Wan had to stop himself from giving his fellow Councillor—and friend—a rather pronounced eyeroll. 

“You tell me,” he said without taking his eyes off his clamoring little herd, feeling rather proud of himself. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Mace came up to his side and crossed his arms, looking decidedly unimpressed. He looked at Obi-Wan, then at his rambunctious little friends and their merrymaking, then back at Obi-Wan again. 

“It looks like you have been avoiding meetings all morning.” 

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at his mouth. He carefully put his hands in his large sleeves.

“Have I?” He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop laughing if he saw Mace’s no doubt exasperated face, so he kept carefully looking onward. “You should have called me.”

“You know I did,” Mace griped, valiantly ignoring the racket and still boring holes in the side of Obi-Wan’s face.

If it came to a contest of wills, Obi-Wan knew he’d be hard pressed to match Mace’s stubbornness. He turned to face him, and inevitably let out a huffed chuckle. Mace looked annoyed alright, but he could do nothing about the twinkle in his deep eyes. 

“You,” Mace insisted, no doubt trying to maintain what he probably hoped to be a convincingly stern demeanor, “have spent all day corrupting our next generation instead of going over mission reports.”

“Really, Mace—”

A yellow blur careening between the two of them nearly knocked them off their feet. A beige, more bipedal one rushed right after it, bumping into them both with equal speed if not equal force. 

“Sorry Masters!” the youngling yelled over her shoulder without stopping. 

Obi-Wan had to cough into his fist to keep from cackling.

“Obi-Wan.” Mace said.

“She apologized,” Obi-Wan pointed out with a brilliant smile.

“You still haven’t.”

“What for?”

Mace’s control finally cracked, and he thrust an accusing finger at Obi-Wan’s innocent face, ready to give into a rare display of unrestrained aggravation. Obi-Wan quickly batted it away and beat him to the punch.

“It’s a perfectly good way of teaching the younglings patience and control!”

Mace blinked at him, his mouth left hanging open, his finger still up and now pointing somewhere over to the right. He turned slowly, and surveyed the bustling courtyard in bemusement. The half-dozen or so pufferpigs that Obi-Wan had let loose there were being corralled by three times as many eager younglings, clone cadets and Padawans, and the animals all felt entitled to express the full range of their feelings on the matter in a loud and enthusiastic fashion. Little Mari Amithest was still running after the particularly rowdy creature that had mistaken Obi-Wan and Mace for Rodian bowling pins. 

Mace’s eyebrows climbed to previously undiscovered heights. 

“What part of this,” he gestured incredulously, “is controlled?”

“None of the pigs have puffed yet,” Obi-Wan explained seriously. 

Mace’s eyebrows were now on their way into orbit. A moment passed. Then, his expression of astonishment seamlessly melted into curiosity.

“They haven’t?” he asked, considering the whole bunch with renewed interest. 

“I told you, it’s a proven method,” Obi-Wan insisted, vindicated. He pointed to the far corner of the courtyard, where Katooni was showing some of the younger children how to feed a happy looking unpuffed puffer. “My Padawan has taught that one to do tricks.”

The squealing puffer was hopping from one foot to the other before avidly sweeping treats from the children’s outstretched hands. 

Mace was now looking suitably impressed. More careful study of Mari’s chase was making it apparent that the animal she was after was not distressed in any way, but was—rather mischievously—trying to run off with her sash clutched in its stout trunk. 

“You shouldn’t let emotions cloud your perception,” Obi-Wan reminded him in a serious voice.

“Hm,” Mace conceded magnanimously, impervious to the teasing.

The twinkle of carefully contained amusement that had been present in his eyes from the start had won over all other sentiments. A wet snort had the two Masters look down at the adventurous pufferpig that had made its way over to them. The amicable beast was fixing them with soulful blue eyes, candidly inoffensive. Its stubby tail was wagging quite politely. Mace distractedly bent down to pet the expectant critter on its broad, squishy face.

“It wants to smell your lightsaber,” Obi-Wan warned. “They like crystals.”

Mace straightened and put a hand on his hilt.

“The Mining Guild didn’t pick them up yesterday?” he inquired. “That was on the agenda.”

Obi-Wan shrugged.

“They tried, but for some reason all the identity chips turned out to be unreadable. There’s no way to prove who these fellows belong to.”

Mace gave him a flat look. 

“Hondo stole them from a Republic transport.”

“There’s all sorts of things on Republic transports,” Obi-Wan reasonably pointed out.

“The transport was chartered by the Mining Guild.”

“Hondo wiped the manifest during his hijacking. There’s just no way to know.”

“Your Padawan was there to escort the Mining Guild representatives.”

“Some mysteries can never hope to be solved.”

The pufferpig had taken to bonking its head against their legs affectionately. Mace, bowing to the undeniable strength of Obi-Wan’s ironclad argumentation, very seriously gave the tenacious quadruped another pat.

“They’re not staying,” he reminded Obi-Wan firmly. 

“Obviously not,” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “The Temple would be a terrible environment for them.”

His friend narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“And you’re not making me spend my time finding them a place.”

“Honestly, Mace.” Obi-Wan gave the affable puffer a gentle shove, and it obediently trotted away to a nearby group of younglings and clone cadets who were already entertaining one of its siblings. Obi-Wan wiped his hands on his pants. “Naboo has very responsible educational farms.”

“Does it,” Mace said mildly. 

“Including a recently opened one in the Lake District.” 

Unashamedly petty enjoyment rang in the Force.

“Don’t come to me when Skywalker tries to send them back.”

“Who says I’ll pick up when he does?”

Obi-Wan loved Anakin, dearly. Still, he hadn’t yet quite forgiven his old Padawan for retiring—running away—before they could make him shoulder his share of the sacred responsibility of wrangling the Temple’s significantly increased youngling population. It was Luke and Leia’s birthday soon anyway. 

“You’re stooping to deviousness,” Mace said, carefully neutral.

Obi-Wan gave him a wry look. 

“Never. Revenge is not the Jedi way,” he said just as calmly. 

“It’s them you’re supposed to be teaching,” Mace said with a short nod towards the unruly bunch. “He’s had his turn.”

Speaking of teaching…

“Oh my,” Obi-Wan said smugly, pointing to a boy who had taken to carefully levitating a surprisingly compliant—if a little alarmed—pufferpig, “that wouldn’t happen to be Caleb, would it?”

His fellow Council member was now pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand planted on his hip. 

“I must say, that young man is certainly very skilled at forming connections with animals. Depa must be very proud.”

“Just don’t,” Mace groaned. He whipped out his communicator. “He’s supposed to be meditating with Yoda right now.”

“That explains it,” Obi-Wan said. 

Master Yoda was slowly ambling into the courtyard, looking quite pleased with what he was seeing. He poked misbehaving younglings with his cane as he walked, chuckling to himself when they yelped and hastily reached with the Force to make sure the pufferpigs stayed relaxed. The pufferpigs themselves were only curious, and in a sufficiently playful mood that the younglings’ offended squeaking was not enough to agitate them. Caleb had set down his floating puffer with all possible speed—and great care—at the sight of the venerable elder, and made ample and readily accepted apologies to the perplexed animal in the form of scritches. 

Mace slowly put away his communicator. He pursed his lips. 

“Obi-Wan,” he said slowly, “next time, just have them practice making friends with the stray tookas.”

That’s how his master had done it, and Mace had never had any problems with connecting with animals, large and small. 

“Pufferpigs are much more even-tempered.”

It was all Mace could do not to facepalm. Giving up, he shot Obi-Wan one last dry look.

“Just do your damn paperwork.”

Obi-Wan watched him stride away, dignified and imposing. Of course, since he wasn’t exactly paying attention to his surroundings, with how focused he was on pretending he was above this whole situation, he didn’t notice Mari’s wayward puffer on a direct collision course with his legs. The poor creature, who hadn’t noticed Mace either, let out a terrified screech and promptly puffed. 

The entire courtyard froze, watching with fascination as the inflated pufferpig bounced twice and slowly rolled to a halt. It made a sorry little squeak.

Resignedly, Mace closed his eyes and set to work on gently calming down the pufferpig with the Force.

The children loudly cheered. 

Omg a de-aged Obi-Wan/Jon fic. They both were de-aged to like, 14-15 and don't have their memories past that. They're trapped in a Sith Temple with Very Stressed Cody, a Confused and Concerned Rex, and Low-key Entertained and Terrified Ahsoka. Chaos, emotional pain/bonding, and stress screaming occurs

Rex feels a little like he got run over by a bantha.

“Easy, Rex,” Ahsoka says from somewhere close, and then there's a hand on his shoulder, helping as he struggles up. Rex appreciates the assistance; he feels as if his head got rung like a bell, and his body right along with it. There's no ringing in his ears, though, none of the shakiness that a concussion grenade would have left him with, and when he pries his eyes open Ahsoka looks rattled, but entirely unharmed.

“What the kriff was that?” Rex asks, putting a hand to his head. A few paces away, Cody is stirring on the stone floor, sprawled out uncomfortably, and Rex pushes up, lets Ahsoka grab his arm and steady him as he staggers over to Cody's side.

“Some old Sith trap,” she says disgustedly, and drops to her knees next to Cody, gently pulling him over onto his back. Rex crouches down as well, pulling his helmet off, and when Cody's dazed eyes flutter open, he gives him a crooked grin.

“Come on, vod,” he says. “I know your head’s hard enough to survive that.”

“Go away, Rex,” Cody says with a groan, and Rex scoffs. Before he can say anything, though, Cody's eyes fly open again, and he jerks up. “The general!”

Ahsoka turns, pointing towards the huge, heavy stone door that stands tightly shut. “Master Obi-Wan and Master Antilles threw us clear when the trap went off,” she says. “I tried to get the door open, but it won't move.”

Cody blinks for a moment, staring at the door. Then, carefully, he squints at Ahsoka, and says, “I thought Jon Antilles died on Queyta, getting the swamp gas antidote.”

Well, Rex thinks wryly. That definitely puts a new spin on Obi-Wan’s surprise when he dropped out of the rafters and sliced apart one of the half-mad native beasts that was chasing them.

Ahsoka grins. “It’s like a Temple game,” she says. “Whatever record-keeper is on duty when one of Master Antilles’s death reports comes in has to buy the rest drinks that night. I think it’s happened twelve times in the last three years.”

Jetii, Rex thinks, and rolls his eyes. Cody just looks pained.

“They're trapped in there?” he asks, climbing gingerly to his feet. “We need to get them out.”

That, Rex thinks, is an understatement. They're deep in the bowels of a Sith temple, with several dozen dangerous creatures, Sith ghosts, and a whole trap-filled maze between them and the exit. And Anakin is lost somewhere in here with them, separated early on but probably neck-deep in trouble if Rex knows anything at all about his general. They’ve got no comms, no backup, and no way out except right through the most dangerous parts of the temple.

Just another Centaxday, Rex thinks, and wonders if Fox will be willing to recommend some good ulcer medicine when the stress invariably gives him one. Or several.

“I already tried the door,” Ahsoka says, as she and Rex follow him up. “There's some kind of shield over it—I can't cut through—”

As if in response to her words, the doors shudder, creak. They bow towards Rex, Cody, and Ahsoka, like something is pushing from the inside and straining against the lock, and Cody shout a warning. He falls back, dragging Rex with him, and Rex would be offended about getting manhandled like a shiny if he wasn’t more concerned with grabbing Ahsoka and pulling her along. She eels out of his grip, though, darts in front of them and drops into a ready stance, drawing her lightsaber. The green blade ignites with a hiss just as the doors snap back to flat—

With a yelp, a flail, a flurry of cloth, two bodies pass right through the stone like it’s an illusion, tumbling out onto the floor. Behind them, something slams into the door with enough force to rattle it in its frame, and the figures scramble up, untangling themselves quickly.

Rex thinks, with a distinct sinking feeling, that he would know that red hair anywhere.

“What was that?” the teenage boy—probably sixteen at most—with Obi-Wan’s hair and accent demands. He grabs the arm of the other boy, just about the same age but completely enveloped in an oversized cloak that’s closer to green-grey than standard Jedi brown, and they scramble backwards, right into Ahsoka. She yelps, dropping her lightsaber, and all three of them go down in a tangle of curses.

Rex doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t.

“What the heck,” Cody breathes.

“Master Obi-Wan!” Ahsoka complains. “Ow, ow, you're on my lek, get off—”

Antilles scrambles up, leaping back like he just got stung, and he jerks around—

Rex catches his arm. “Sir, just wait—”

There's a wrench, a sharp, startled sound, and suddenly Rex is airborne. He yelps, hitting the ground on his back, and wheezes as all the air is knocked from his lungs. Someone hisses, and Ahsoka cries out angrily, and Cody takes a half-step forward in alarm.

And then, before anything can happen, Obi-Wan shoves himself between Antilles and the rest of them, herding the other boy back a step. “Wait!” he says loudly, and Antilles twitches, ducks his head, but doesn’t move out from behind Obi-Wan.

“Wait,” Obi-Wan says again, raising his hands, and Rex pushes up on one elbow just to take in the sheer weirdness that is Obi-Wan baby-faced and beardless, padawan braid trailing down behind his ear. “You just startled him, that’s all. He saved me from the beasts in there, he isn't an enemy. And I'm not, either.”

Ahsoka glances back at Rex as she straightens, and her expression is caught between pure bewilderment and rising horror. “Master Obi-Wan?” she asks warily. “Do you recognize me?”

“Master,” Obi-Wan repeats, bemused. “I'm sorry, you must be mistaken. I'm a padawan. I haven’t even made Knight yet, let alone Master.”

Behind him, Antilles shifts, and Rex thinks he sees him swallow. He steps forward, and when Obi-Wan turns to him in alarm, he half-raises a hand, almost touching Obi-Wan’s arm, before he hesitates and drops it.

“If you need a Knight,” he says, “I'm Knight Jon Antilles.”

Rex blinks, exchanging glances with Cody, who looks equally confused. After a moment, Rex just shrugs. He hasn’t heard of Jedi making Knight so young, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.

Ahsoka looks far less at ease with this information. “You're a Knight?” she demands. “But you're fifteen—”

“Sixteen,” Jon mutters, sort of shrinking back under his hood.

“—sixteen,” Ahsoka corrects without missing a beat, “and most Human Jedi don’t make Knight until they're at least twenty!”

There's a moment as Obi-Wan blinks at Ahsoka, and then he looks from her to the dropped lightsaber. “You're a Jedi,” he says in surprise. “I don’t recognize you from the crèche, though. Are you not from the Coruscant Temple?”

“Of course I'm from the Coruscant Temple,” Ahsoka says. She holds out a hand, calling her lightsaber to her, and studies Jon and Obi-Wan for a moment. “Do you…remember anything about the war?”

“War?” Jon asks, quietly alarmed. He steps forward—

Obi-Wan catches his arm, pulling Jon back to his side, and says, “Which war? Were we called out to negotiate? But why would two padawans be sent?”

“My Master is somewhere in this place,” Ahsoka says, and it’s a sidestep worthy of Obi-Wan. “We need to find him, but the only way back up to the main part is through that door.”

Jon and Obi-Wan glance back at it just as something hits it from the inside again, making it shudder. Obi-Wan’s expression firms into bloody stubbornness and he reaches for the lightsaber on his belt, but before he can draw it, Jon catches his arm.

“Have you tried communicating with them?” he asks softly, glancing at the doors. They shake again, and he hesitates, then says, “They have minds, beneath the rage and darkness. I can feel it.”

“They were a little too busy trying to eat us for us to try that,” Ahsoka says, watching him. “You think you can manage it? Even with how angry they are?”

“He can if we help him,” Obi-Wan says, hope rising in his tone. “The three of us together should be strong enough to influence them.” A smile breaking across his face, he turns his hand, catching Jon's arm, and says, “Let us help, Jon.”

Jon stares at him for a long moment, eyes wide beneath the shadow of his hood, and then very deliberately ducks his head so it hides him completely. He doesn’t answer, just jerks his head in a quick nod, but Rex can practically feel the rising heat of a blush. And, judging by the way Ahsoka's brows are rising, that’s not the only thing to feel.

“Oh,” she says. “Oh, wow. Mas—Obi-Wan? He’s your type? But everyone in the Archives always talks about how you and Jango Fett—”

“What,” Jon says blankly.

“What,” Cody says, at twice his normal volume.

“I'm everyone’s type,” Obi-Wan says, miffed. “And I certainly don’t know anything about Jango Fett, but whoever he is—”

“Wait, wait,” Rex says, more plea than anything, and raises his hands. If this goes on for much longer, Jon is going to dissolve into a puddle of sheer embarrassment behind Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, and since he’s got an idea how to get them out of here, Rex has a vested interest in not letting that happen. “We need to focus. Sir—Knight Antilles, can you really get those animals to let us through?”

“Yes,” Jon says, apparently relieved to escape the previous topic. “I—”

“We’re helping,” Obi-Wan says firmly, and tugs Jon a step closer to him. Jon looks a little like a deer in the lights of an oncoming transport, but he allows it without flipping Obi-Wan over his shoulder and slamming him into the ground. Not that Rex is annoyed about that. Much.

“Okay,” Jon says, almost soundless, and when Obi-Wan smiles at him he twitches like he wants to bolt.

Cody rubs a hand over his eyes and mutters to himself, which is the equivalent of anyone else beating their head against a wall while swearing. “We need to find General Skywalker as soon as possible,” he says. “Ahsoka—”

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, but heads for Obi-Wan and Jon, grabbing them both by the neck of their robes. “I'm the same age as my Grandmaster and I'm stuck in an old Sith temple with my Master missing, a legendary Jedi Master tripping over his own feet whenever my Grandmaster smiles at him, and no good way out. This is fine.”

Ahsoka, Rex reflects, has been learning far, far too much from Anakin. It’s mildly horrifying.

Jon makes a low, offended sound, but lets her steer him. “You're like Knol,” he says, as if this is some damning indictment of her character.

“Master Ven’nari?” Ahsoka says, suddenly far more interested. “Can't she breathe fire?”

Jon pauses, clearly caught off guard by this unexpected response, and gives her a wary look. He doesn’t answer, which is probably for the better. At least as far as Rex's stress levels are concerned.

“Beasts,” Rex says firmly. Ahsoka doesn’t need the ability to breathe fire. Rex doesn’t need Ahsoka with the ability to breathe fire. Not in the least.

“Who even are you?” Obi-Wan asks, cuttingly polite as he eyes them. “Planetary officials?”

“Soldiers,” Cody says. “Your soldiers. We serve the Jedi.”

Another traded glance between Jon and Obi-Wan, this time bewildered.

“Oh,” Jon says, soft. “You're not twins, you're clones.”

Cody very clearly makes the decision not to ask how he knows. “We are,” he agrees. “It’s our duty to get you out of here safely—”

From the look on Obi-Wan’s face, incredibly unimpressed and vaguely offended, this goes over with his general at sixteen about as well as it does at thirty-six. Jon doesn’t look all that much more convinced, either.

Ahsoka snickers, because she’s terrible. “We’ll get them out, too,” she tells Obi-Wan soothingly, and Obi-Wan snorts softly.

“We’d better,” he says, and turns, giving Jon a bright smile. “Are you ready, Jon?”

Jon stares at him for a moment, and then very carefully, very deliberately, he slides his hands out of the enveloping shadow of his cloak and offers them up. He’s not wearing the gloves he had on as an adult, and Rex can see Obi-Wan’s eyes lingering on the scarred skin for an instant before he reaches out, wrapping his fingers around Jon's.

“And what am I? Bantha fodder?” Ahsoka asks, unimpressed, and drops a hand on top of theirs, making them both startle.

“Ah, young love,” Rex murmurs, trying not to grin, and Cody groans.

“Can you knock me out again?” he asks.

Rex would, but the doors are opening, the Jedi are doing something, and there’s a big, ugly feline with long teeth bearing down on them, so he has slightly more important things to worry about at the moment.

[On AO3]

The panic over COVID-19 causing people to hoard shit unnecessarily means I can't find medical supplies (like disinfecting alcohol wipes) without paying an obnoxiously exorbitant amount.

Generally healthy, able-bodied people don't need masks, exam gloves, or alcohol swabs to protect themselves against COVID-19. But chronically ill people and their caretakers do need those supplies to live their everyday lives.

Calm the fuck down and wash your fucking hands, ableds.

Da-owo's Rotg/blackice comic master list parts : 0 1-6 7-12 13-18 19-24 25-30 31-36 37-42 43-48 49-54 55-60 61-66 67-72 73-78 79-84 85-90 91 random pages that are not fully "canon" to my comic but that are blackice : -are you attempting to distract me? -i see a song of past romance -i see your palace covered in red -look at me -can i still call you kozmotis? -im not him -how could you forget? -my love for you is timeless

side note's - this comic updates at random moments there is no schedule just when i have the time to work on it - this is for fun , some pages / parts will be better then other part's im just trying to enjoy the process -currently this is going to be my longest on going to the public comic i have written so this is also me stepping out of a comfort zone to just explore if i do really like working on stuff like this - Questions? feel free to ask i'll answer just about anything without spoilers with what i plan to do haha

art Refernces mostly just ruff sketchs of their outfits an such nightlight: updated ref june 17th 2024 here cold wear/ winter here

jack: part 70 - ?? outfit here full ref here pitch/koz: koz outfits + under clothes here part 70 - ?? outfit here portiat outfit refrence here tattoo ref here bunnymund full ref here toothina full ref here nightmare men concepts here

fanfiction culture is reading a good fic but not remembering the title or author and then having to sell your soul to find it again

“Then you will not strike Ser Jinn while under contract with the Naboo, and if I had my way, I’d extend the order past that.”

Scoffing, Jango picks up his helmet from where he’d abandoned it in his chair and grabs Obi-Wan’s dropped datapad as he goes. “We’ll see how long I last in close quarters with him,” he mutters, not looking sorry at all even under Obi-Wan’s glare.

edited this at 4:30am! i love y’all thank you for waiting! wear a fucking mask and stay safe!

and remember to support artists and creators by reblogging instead of liking ( ˘ ³˘)

So the tire-eating potholes in my neighborhood finally killed both my rear tires and I had to get that dealt with, but while they were getting replaced, I put the dogs in puppy daycare and upon picking them up early, the attendant literally sprinted to the front desk, grabbed me by the shoulders and breathlessly exclaimed "YOUNEEDTOCOMESEEWHATYOURDOGSAREDOING"

While she escorted me back to the play yards, she explained that every time they have more than three Corgi, they have to put all the Corgs in a separate play yard because they turn into a little gang and bully the Very Large dogs by playing Cow Herding Simulator 5000 with them, and especially if Herschel is there, because corgis are bossy-pants dogs, and Herschel has the bossiest pants of them all and acts as leader.

Despite being a little Don Corgleone to the short bitch mafia, Hershcel is also a Huge Baby and will apparently cry and cry and try to climb the fence and cry and eat people's shoelaces and cry if he is separated from Charlie during playtime, so this means any time that "Corgi Party" is happening, Charlie also has to go to Corgi party, despite being full-height, running cat software and a senior citizen. he copes with being Gulliver amongst the Liliputians by climbing onto the roof of the playskool castle they have for a climbing structure in the yard, kicking the ladder down behind him, and stretching out to nap in the sun while the corgi frolic and gambol around him.

Corgi are dogs that make up and play games with secret rules, like kindergartners. "Everyone bark in sync" is a popular game, as is "follow the leader" and it's companion game "March in a circle around a tall structure like ants caught in a death loop".

So what I was greeted with, when the attendant and I snuck out to the play yard, was the sight of Charlie, sound asleep and flat on his back with his paws crossed over his chest because sighthounds sleep in the stupidest fucking positions, on top of a faux-medieval castle with gargoyles on the corners, surrounded by approximately seven Corgi, all trotting in a circle around him, barking in sync.

"They look like they're preforming some kind of ritual!" giggled the attendant as attempted to get my phone to focus.

"Yeah, they're gonna summon Corgtulhu." I said.

Unfortunately, this made the attendant literally fall on her ass laughing, and distracted Herschel and his compatriots, so they didn't get to complete the summons, and I didn't get the pic.

The attendant kept laughing because apparently she's new to puns, and had mostly gotten it under control by the time we got everyone's leashes on and back out to the front.

The manager was watching the front desk, bemused. Did you get to see them doing the ritual?"

"YEAH!" shrieks the attendant, still excitable with merriment. "THEY'RE- THEY WERE-" The attendant ends up giggling on the floor.

"You okay there Katie?" asked the manager with minimal concern.

"We think they were trying to summon Corgthulhu." I eplain, and Katie screams from the floor. "Wasn't gonna work though, you need a virgin sacrifice and Charlie had an STD when we got him."

It was the manager's turn to shriek. and for Charlie and Herschel to start barking in solidarity.

"That's right Charlie! Your sluttiness saved the world!" I told him, as he jumped up and kicked me in the face.

Anyway, that's why Charlie's nickname at daycare is now "Superman(whore)"

---

If you found this story amusing, please consider donating to my Ko-fi or pre-ordering the Family Lore book on my Patreon so I can buy the good dogs more treats.