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sparrowmoth · 2 years

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Carlos and the (...) No Good, Very Bad Day • [AO3]

Teen | 7.7K+ | Carlos-centric | Crack/Humor, Magical Accidents

Disclaimer: This chapter depicts animal rescue services in an unflattering and at times outright negative light, in large part due to being written from Carlos' incredibly distressed POV. This is not intended as a reflection of my personal views, except insofar as my own involvement with animal rescue since childhood has shown me that, as with anything, you'll sometimes find the wrong people in the right causes and, in the worst case scenario, that can negatively influence an entire organization.

CW: Non-graphic animal mistreatment, minor reference to euthanasia, dark humor, swearing, some angst, and arson.

Chapter Five: Puppy Prison Break

If someone had asked, five years ago, where Carlos would see himself today, what he wouldn’t have told them, or ever imagined, is what he sees right now, reflected off the walls of a shiny metal sink: a puppy in a muzzle with a veritable noose around his neck, being manhandled by the warden of this medieval puppy dungeon—

And it is that, you know—no matter all the cutesy, feel-good posters they have up on the walls. The woman trying to bathe him has a pin on her shirt that says, “Live, Love, Rescue,” but she’s long given up the sweet talk in favour of swearing—

Not that anyone can hear it over the sound of Carlos’ shrieking.

The chihuahua getting brought in for a bath in the basin next to him looks about to pee itself over Carlos’ antics. Elsewhere in the pound, he can hear dogs howling, incited by the chaos that had begun when his cage was opened and he had leaped from the truck, vying for an escape—which, well, hadn’t worked out, but damn it, he’d tried—

The vet’s trying now, after Carlos’ bath, to give him first aid for his scrapes, cuts, and gouges. He doesn’t care. He’s not done fighting.

Until the needle goes in and he’s suddenly so dizzy.

“Sacré bête,” someone is saying, disembodied in the blackness.

“He’s completely feral,” says another voice—or maybe the same one. And yet another, or the same, says, “Breaks my heart to see them so abused. Anyone shows up for this guy, they’re telling on themselves…”

“I’ll put a note on his file. He’ll need an assessment.”

“His chances aren’t good.”

“Well, we give him two weeks, then… you know.”

Carlos startles awake, unsure what happened and where he is. What he’s sure is he’s been dreaming—the same kind of nightmare he had as a kid. He’d wake up as a puppy and have to run from his mother and Jasper and Horace. Sometimes, she would catch him and lock him up in a… wait. He’s in a cage, and he has paws, and—

He’s definitely awake, right?

Everything comes back like a cold rush of water. He’s looking out through the bars of a small, stacked cage at what appears, to him, as a mad scientist’s laboratory. He can hear and smell other dogs in the crowded little room, making him bristle. He’s overcome his fear—sort of—mostly—depending—but this feeling he’s surrounded…

He chokes down a whimper, glad there’s no one to hear it.

He has to get it together, can’t just wait for the others.

He’s not some damsel in distress, he’s… well, a fucking puppy.

Pushing up to his feet, he looks to the left, noting a bowl of water and—of course, there’s dog food. His stomach rumbles at the sight and he lets out a low growl, as if threatening himself—

He doesn’t usually waste food, but he’ll make one exception.

Turning around, he kicks the bowl against the cage door, sending kibble flying everywhere and inciting a cacophony of barking—

The door to the small room is soon thrown open.

Someone peeks their head in, surveying the scene and locking eyes with Carlos, who stares back unblinking. “They warned me about you,” the person mutters, about to reach for a broom that’s stored near the door. They pause when a phone rings out in the office—

Sighing, they turn to answer it, leaving the door propped open.

“Hello, Auradon City Pound,” comes the tired voice from out of the office. Carlos listens idly as he paws at the lock on the outside of his cage door, trying to figure out a weak spot. “Yeah, we had one come in earlier,” the person continues. “Think it’s yours, huh? Right, well, we’re closed for the night. No, sorry. No exceptions. Office opens at 9 AM tomorrow. Right, see you then.” The call seems to end there.

Then, the phone rings again.

Carlos is half-paying attention—mostly to be sure he isn’t caught in the act of trying to bite his way out of the stupid cage. He hears the person repeat, “Hello, Auradon City Pound,” before a few moments silence, and then— “Miss, I don’t know who this is, but that is in no way appropriate. I’m hanging up. No, I am hanging up right now.”

And they must, because the phone rings again.

“Auradon City Pound,” the person answers through grit teeth. “Ah, yes, sir—wait, I’m sorry, did you say an inspection? That’s… not on the books…” They trail off and Carlos can hear paper shuffling. “I’m sorry, who did you say you were with? Uh, well, there must be some mistake. I’ve never heard of— Hello? Sir, are you still there? Hello?”

The phone rings again.

“Hello, Auradon City Pound. Can you repeat that? You want to talk to a dog, ma’am? Right, of course, your dog. I understand, it’s just—uh—that’s a highly unusual request and you’d be tying up the line, so…” There’s a long pause. “No, we do not have a manager for you to—yes, I understand you’re upset, but that is not the purpose of this number. Ma’am—I am hanging up. I am hanging up. Good night.”

The phone does not stop ringing.

“WHAT?” comes the yell of an answer from out of the office some seven to eight calls later. “Hello? Anyone there? Ugh, rotten kids…”

There’s sounds of movement from the office as Carlos falls back on his haunches, panting from the effort of trying to open the stupid lock, which hasn’t responded with more than a jiggle—

Just as well. He hears someone coming.

The same person as before appears, poking their head into the room, making a disgusted face at the mess of kibble, and shooting a glower at Carlos, who simply stares, not exactly trying to endear himself—

“One of those days,” the person mutters, reaching a hand down the wall toward the light switch, then shutting the door as they leave.

Carlos slumps down with a huff, unsure what to do now his teeth and claws have failed him. What else does he have, without opposable thumbs or at least some kind of tool to use?

There’s nothing.

Just the bowl of water, which… he’s thirsty enough, it’s starting to tempt him, and now that the room is dark but for the safety lights, well—not like anyone’s around to watch him murder his dignity.

He half-crawls toward the bowl, like a reluctant worm, then lifts his head toward the rim, where he rests his chin. He lets his tongue out, little by little, feeling very much like an idiot human—

His puppy brain takes over when his tongue hits the water.

He scrambles up to his feet and starts to drink like a smoked fish released back to the ocean—that’s the intensity of his need for this.

When he’s done, the bowl is almost empty and water is dripping from his chin onto his paws and the cage floor as he stands there panting. He’d been so thirsty. He hadn’t realized how much.

Suddenly, a car alarm can be heard going off somewhere outside, and though the sound of it is muffled, one of the dogs starts to howl, quickly joined in by another—and another—plus a choir of barking.

Carlos pays them no attention, feeling tiredness in his bones.

He might try to sleep, save his energy for tomorrow—for when they open up his cage again. He’ll have his chance, then, to run. He’s not giving up. That’s not what this is. He’s just worn out from the day…

His eyes are fluttering shut when a flashlight beam sweeps across the room from a window at the far left, away from the door to the office. He blinks dazedly at the sight, turning his head to follow—

The beam pulls back and the window rattles softly—then stops—then rattles again—and soon, it’s pushing inward, letting in a leg.

Carlos sniffs the air, detecting someone familiar.

He lets out a surprised bark and finds his tail is wagging, wholly out of his control. Stupid puppy brain, he thinks, but it’s a distant, fleeting thought. Almost all of his mind is fixed on that leg, dressed in sleek black leather, and the second leg that follows, and—

The girl who drops from the window, eyes glowing faintly green.

“Carlos?” she whispers, scanning over the wall full of cages.

He barks again, but the other dogs are barking, too, so he paws desperately at the cage door, rattling the bars until Mal sees him.

Jay’s head pops in through the window, hanging upside down so that his hair falls in a cascade. “Hey, you find him?” he whispers loudly, bringing an arm in to shine the flashlight around—just as Mal is glancing back to look at him. “Shit, sorry,” he laughs when she hisses at the light, raising her arms against the brightness—

“What happened to keeping a look out, dumbass?!”

Once Jay withdraws, Mal hurries over to Carlos’ cage, which sits in a row at eye level with her. She frowns a little at the state of him, able to see as sharply in the night as in the day. Quickly, the frown turns to a smirk, though, and she asks, “Why do you smell like a flower shop? Oh, Evil, don’t tell me—did they give you a fucking bath?”

Carlos growls and snaps his teeth to say SHUT UP.

Snickering, Mal reaches up to undo the lock on his cage, but then, she pauses, something catching her attention that Carlos can’t see. “High risk, huh?” she muses, reading off some paper to the side of his cage. “Guess I’ll take my chances. Come on, let’s bounce…”

She swings the cage door open.

Carlos leaps out, utterly reckless, only for Mal to catch him mid-air and grab him tight to her chest. “Fuck,” she swears, sounding a little breathless. “Are you trying to break your legs? That won’t heal when I change you back, you know.” She glares down at him in her arms.

He bares his teeth in response, but relents to being carried—for now, at least, since it’s not like he can reach the window. Not without her.

Mal walks quickly past the rows of cages, for which Carlos is quietly grateful. All those eyes in the shadows and the mournful whining—ugh, there’s something about it that feels like walking out of Hades.

They get to the window and Mal hisses Jay’s name.

Hands appear not a moment later, reaching down for Carlos.

He’s never been more relieved to feel the warmth of Jay’s touch or to smell the night air, ripe with—smoke and gasoline? He lets out a soft whine, inhaling deeper. Yeah, something nearby is definitely on fire.

When Jay sets Carlos down on the pavement with an affectionate ruffle between the ears, Carlos glances around for any sign of Evie. The smell of her is fresh on both Jay and Mal’s clothes, but where—

She appears as quickly as suddenly from around the side of the building, a can of gasoline dangling from her manicured hand.

“Carlos!” she exclaims with relief, passing the gas can to Jay when she’s close enough. She scoops Carlos up and plants a kiss on his forehead, leaving a bright smear of lipstick on his spotty white fur.

He nuzzles under her chin, making her giggle.

Suddenly, an alarm blares from inside the building and, a second later, Mal is scrambling out of the window, taking Jay’s hand and allowing him to pull her as she hisses, “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

Evie cradles Carlos tightly, pulling her jacket around him, and starts to run, flanked by Jay and Mal. The world is blurred a little by all the bouncing around in Evie’s arms, but as they cut into an abandoned lot from the back of the pound, Carlos catches sight of a burning car parked erratically in a mud patch at a distance from the building—

Multiple sirens can be heard on the horizon, drawing quickly nearer.

Jay, Mal, and Evie are starting to laugh through their panting breaths as they continue to run, staying out of the street lights.

Right now, more than anything, Carlos wants to laugh with them.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are always appreciated. And feel free to subscribe on AO3 if you want to be alerted when the next chapter comes out. Kudos and comments are lovely, as well! ♥

#descendants #carlos de vil #rotten OT4 #core four #descendants fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #descendants fandom #one more chapter to go!#<3

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thepersonperson · 1 month

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Sukuna is Peak Gap Moe. I’ll never be over this. This bastard talks tough, eats people, and kills like a woodchipper and yet…he is a poetic little sap. Getting mad over an improper haikus, the misidentification of flowers…and confessing his feelings to Gojo Satoru under several layers of wordplay no one except those well-versed in ancient Japanese would catch.

I've been over this in greater detail in Sukuna's Negative Rizz, but @tangsakura added more context in the replies to that post, making Sukuna's use of 凡夫 (bonpu) for Gojo even gayer.

In summary, 凡夫 (bonpu) can be translated as painfully ordinary or unenlightened. But in the individual kanji readings, 凡 is mediocre and 夫 is husband. You could read this as Sukuna calling Gojo his mediocre husband. And that's just the modern readings! The ancient readings...

So you can read this line from Sukuna as the following:

“You were born in an era without me and hailed as 'The Strongest'

1) And yet you turned out to be…painfully ordinary.”

2) And yet you turned out to be…unenlightened.”

3) And yet you turned out to be…a mediocre husband/wife/spouse.”

4) And yet you turned out to be…the ordinary one who could stand by my side.”

Sukuna seems to be saying these things all at once. (It’s no different than the Megumi Activities wordplay he uses with Enchain. Alt. link if the Twitter dies.) Gojo apparently makes him feel very conflicted. He’s boring, he can do better, he shouldn’t even call himself the Honored One, he’s his equal, they’re married. The irony here is that no one except Sukuna can understand this.