… lmfao, kiddo and reggie are staring each other down though.
AND SHE WON’T STOP STARING AT ME FOR MY FOOD asdfs stop, don’t give me that look.
iamhighlyillogical replied to your post: aaaaskdfjsd
oh dear a pitbull may god have mercy on your soul (looks like a cutie though)
she’s the friendliest dog i’ve ever met, she’s been sitting on my feet for the last half hour because she doesn’t want me to get up, lmfao
so we’re watching a dog for a family friend, and she’s a handful already. Her name’s Kiddo and she’s HUGE, and she runs into things and generally is like a big five year old. She’s about as needy as one too.
Already I’ve had to chase her around half the neighborhood when she got out through the door. SHE RUNS LIKE A FREAKING HORSE.
that is a terrible picture, but it’s the best I have for right now!
“What are you even doing?” Galen starts to ask, but Ghoul frowns, stops what he’s doing and presses his hand over Galen’s mouth to stop him from speaking. He’s busy, he’ll explain in a minute, but he just needs Galen to sit still for a second. Shh. Shh, songbird.
It takes a second, but Ghoul finishes his task, and lifts their hands up, indicating the long red string tied to one of Galen’s pinkies, leading across to where it’s similarly tied to one of Ghoul’s. Galen waits, and Ghoul takes a deep breath.
“There’s this thing. This story I heard a while back. There’s this string, red string, and s’like. Fate. S’about fate. The idea’s that the gods tie this red string ‘round the little fingers of people that’re meant t’meet each other someday. They’re linked together, and they’re supposed t’end up together, ‘cause the string don’t break.”
Ghoul shifts, looking vaguely embarrassed, dropping their hands. “Just a story though. It’s stupid,” He starts, trying to untie the string, but Galen stops him, and grins, leaning forward to kiss him.
“It’s not, dude,” Galen says, and Ghoul wrinkles his nose to cover the smile trying to creep up on his face.
“Gaaaaleeeeen,” Brad whines, flopping onto Galen’s lap and, by extension, the couch. “I’m so hungover. Why didn’t you tell me to stop drinking?”
Galen looks down at him, vaguely amused, pushing at Brad’s head. Brad lets out a pathetic noise, dead weight. “I did,” Galen points out mildly. “You screamed ‘fuck the police’ and jumped into the pool.”
Brad sighs dramatically. “No, dude, you’re supposed to take the drink like, physically out of my head and tie me to a chair. You know how drunk me works.”
Galen shoves at Brad again and this time Brad just rolls off the couch, hits the floor with a loud thump and a groan. “Uh huh. This is why I don’t drink, dude.”
Which gets him a muffled response from the floor: “Oh, shut up! You were drinking when Ghoul handed you stuff! I saw you!”
Which in turn makes Galen turn bright red, and Brad peers up at him from the ground, over the couch cushions, squinting. There’s a lengthy pause in which Galen avoids Brad’s gaze and Brad keeps staring, and then suddenly there’s a flurry of movement as Brad launches himself off the floor and back onto the couch, effectively knocking Galen over. Maybe it takes a couple of minutes of wrestling and rolling around and yelping but Brad totally ends up sitting on Galen’s stomach, grinning down at him widely.
“You so spent the night with Ghoul! You did! I can totally read your mind right now!”
Galen flails underneath him, protesting indignantly while Brad squawks triumphantly, and from the other side of the bus Terri says to Daphne, amused, “And they wonder why people write dirty fanfiction about them.”
