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paterson-blue · 3 years

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Honey, You're Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago); Part 3

Part 3: The Date

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5

Summary: Things don't go exactly to plan. Clyde stresses.

Word Count: 4,010

Warnings: fluff, spice, grumpy Clyde Logan, pouty boy (but he's still in love), sentimentalism, sickly sweet pet names, smoochin', grindin', oral sex (male receiving), cum on body (not in!), original female character–let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thanks again to @paper-n-ashes for being my beta reader & quelling all my writing jitters. You're the absolute best!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

It’s a fuckin’ disaster.

Starts out nice. Juniper shows up on his doorstep wearin’ a slinky little black dress, one that shows off her curves and makes Clyde’s mouth go dry. She tells him he looks handsome and he feels giddy. He sweeps his newly styled hair out of his face, sayin’ she looks absolutely stunnin’. Juniper beams, grabs his hand, tells him they better get a move on ‘fore they’re late.

They’re late. They’re later than late.

They aren’ five minutes outta town when lightenin’ starts to streak across the sky. Clyde shifts uneasily, eyes cast upward towards the swirling heavens. It’s rainin’ cats and dogs in no time and Juniper has to slow to half the speed limit to drive safely. Clyde’s thoughts go to the river up ahead, the one the road crew was still tryna’ re-stabilize since the last storm flooded it.

Fifteen minutes from their destination and they have t’pull to a stop on the highway, suddenly blocked in a jam. Flashin’ red and blue lights indicate an accident up front, and while Clyde spares a thought to whoever was involved, he can’t help but check the time. They aren’ gonna make their reservation, he just knows it.

The car behind ‘em lays on its horn, the sound makin’ both Clyde & Juniper jump. The driver either doesn’ seem to understand the concept of bein’ stuck or plain just don’ care. Clyde clenches his jaw, glowerin’ into the rear view mirror—he can only see the driver’s silhouette behind the bright glow of the headlights. He’s keepin’ his cool until the driver reaches his arm out, in the pourin’ rain an’ all, just t’give Juniper the finger.

Clyde’s unbucklin’ his belt quick as can be, chest heavin’ as he reaches for the door handle. He’s ‘bout ready to stomp to the car and yank the man out.Teach ‘im a lesson on manners, teach ‘im t’treat a lady like—

“Clyde.” Juniper stops him in his tracks with just his name on her lips. He looks over at her from under his hair, expression tense. She reaches up to caress his cheek, holdin’ his face in her little palm so sweetly, thumb brushin’ over the sharp line of his jaw. “Leave him be. It’s not worth gettin’ into trouble.”

Clyde deflates, honey brown eyes downcast. He sounds miserable when he speaks. “… We’re gonna miss dinner.”

“I know, sugar. It’s okay.”

His heart flutters in his broad chest despite his distress. She’d called him ‘sugar.’ He likes that; wants to hear it again real soon.

By the time they get through all the traffic and make it to the restaurant, their reservation is indeed gone, table havin’ been given away. They stand together just outside the building, under the little awning in an attempt to stay out of the rain.

Clyde huffs, so morose that he’s unable to enjoy the way she was pressed up against his side. “M’sorry.”

Juniper frowns, reachin’ up to pat his stomach gently. “You stop that. You haven’t done anything to be sorry for.”

Clyde shakes his head sadly, heavin’ out a sigh. “It’s the Logan Family Curse.”

She looks up at him, brows arched, her hand still settled on his belly. “Oh is it now?”

He nods, brows pinched together. Juniper reaches for his hand, pulling it to her lips and pressin’ a kiss to his knuckles. “You aren’t cursed, Clyde Logan. And if you are, I’m perfectly happy to be cursed right along with you.”

Clyde doesn’ quite know how to respond to that, but luckily, he doesn’t have to right away. Juniper moves her lips to the pads of his large fingers, kissin’ ‘em gently before lettin’ him pull his hand away. Clyde cradles her pretty face in his palm, takin’ the time to admire her. Finally, he speaks. “Thank you, darlin’. That’s mighty nice of you t’say.”

Juniper nuzzles into his touch, sighin’ happily; it makes Clyde feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“I’m only saying what’s true. Now c’mon. I know it’s a Friday night but there’s bound to be somewhere we can eat.”

They end up findin’ an old fashioned drive-in burger place, somewhere they can park and eat in the car out of the rain. It’s not where Clyde wants to take her; she deserves to be wined and dined all proper, not greasy burgers and milkshakes. But Juniper doesn’ seem to mind; as soon as they’re parked she’s squintin’ up at the menu, a big smile on her face.

“This all sounds so fucking good.” She giggles, lookin’ over at him. It makes the disappointment in Clyde’s chest fade away, and he leans over the center console to peer out the window to see what choices they were offered. It puts him in her space, and Juniper leans in to press a gentle kiss to his temple. He blushes, his cheeks only getttin’ hotter when she brushes some of his hair out of his face. He desperately wants to kiss her but he doesn’ know if it’s the right time.

He’s finally acceptin’ the night’s change of plans—finally acceptin’ that this might be good, burgers and fries while dressed up nice, watchin’ the rain pour from the safety of Juniper’s little Corolla—when the carhop comes out to tend to them. Clyde’s already diggin’ into his wallet as Juniper rattles off their order; he holds his debit card out, arm reachin’ over Juniper’s lap.

The carhop doesn’ move for the card. Instead, they say “Card machine’s down. Cash only.” in what Clyde thinks is possibly the most bored tone they could muster. He tries not to bristle as he fumbles with his wallet for a second time, patience already worn thin from the night’s events. He’s only got a fifty in his billfold. The fifty.

Their fifty.

He hesitates, even though he knows it’s irrational; Jimmy always did tell him he was too damn sentimental for his own good. Juniper must realize—she always does, Clyde never seems to have to explain himself to her—because she grabs her purse from the floorboard. Clyde stops her, shakin’ his head as he tugs the fifty dollar bill out. “S’alright, darlin’. Y’told me t’save it for a rainy day.”

Juniper’s face softens at his words, and Clyde hands the money over to the carhop, who looks like they want to be literally anywhere else. Soon Clyde’s been given his change, and he quickly puts it back up. As soon as he’s done Juniper’s reachin’ for him, pullin’ him in by his collar. Clyde goes willingly, twistin’ in his seat to move his prosthetic to the middle of her back, arm wrapped around her.

“I’ll give you another one.” She tells him firmly, and Clyde huffs out a laugh.

“Well that’d be awful silly of ya, Junebug. You’ll run outta money real quick if y’keep givin’ it all t’me.” He tries to soothe her with a joke, wantin’ to let her know that it was alright. Sure, it had been special to him—reminded him of their meetin’—but it was just a piece a’ paper. What was a piece a’ paper when he had the most important thing right here in front a’ him?

He wants to curl up further into her, but their positions don’t allow for it—the vehicle doesn’ exactly allow for him to move his long limbs much a’ anywhere. If this was as close as he could get, he was satisfied. Juniper shifts suddenly, eyes trained on him as she leans closer. They share a breath, then two, and then she’s pressin’ her mouth against his.

It’s nothin’ if not chaste. Clyde gets the feelin’ she doesn’ exactly want to neck in the front seat of her car like teenagers—at least not in plain view of the drive-in’s staff and other patrons. Just a gentle kiss, a little more than a peck; firm and lingerin’ just enough that he knows it happened. Juniper follows it up with another one at the corner of mouth, their noses pressin’ against one another’s cheeks.

It’s more than enough for Clyde; more than enough to get his pulse to sky rocket. He can’t remember the last time he’s been treated so gently, so much love in such a small movement. She gives him a smile when she pulls away, and they both sit back in their seats, starin’ all heart-eyed at one another. She takes the metal of his hand in hers, holdin’ it, and Clyde thinks maybe he should reconsider the whole curse thing.

They head back home after finishin’ their meal, the storm slowly peterin’ off as they get closer to Clyde’s trailer. Juniper walks him to his door, gigglin’ when she offers him her arm to escort him. He takes it, grinnin’ like a fool as they stomp up the front steps. They stand there under the yellow porch light, humid heat surroundin’ ‘em. Clyde usually hated the humidity, but not when it was like this, creatin’ such a hazy, intimate bubble around ‘em. Juniper drops her arm, but only to reach for Clyde’s flesh hand, holdin’ it in both of hers.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Clyde. Best date I’ve ever been on—and I mean that.”

Clyde can feel himself blushin’, a pleased smile turnin’ his lips up. “I had a good time, too. Wouldja—wouldja wanna do it again? Sometime soon?”

“Yes.” She answers almost before he can finish askin’, and they both laugh. There’s a beat, a pause, a breath, and then Juniper is leanin’ up the same moment Clyde’s leanin’ down. It’s a relief when their lips touch, like the first drink a’ water in the mornin’. Clyde thinks he’s been parched his whole life and never even knew it.

Juniper’s the one who deepens it, the one who drops his hand to lean into him, to thread her fingers through his thick hair, holdin’ him close. And fuck, Clyde isn’ gonna fight it. He wraps his arm around her, prosthetic against her back as his hand moves to hold her face. His palm envelops her cheek, thumb under her chin to keep her head lifted. They kiss and kiss, and when she makes a little whine in the back of her throat Clyde swears he’s floatin’.

When she pulls away to breathe he makes a sound of his own, a disappointed little groan that she huffs out a laugh at. He’d be embarrassed if she wasn’ nuzzlin’ her nose against his cheek like she can’t get enough.

“Those lips a’ yours aren’t fair.” She murmurs, and Clyde hums, strokin’ his thumb along her jawline. He doesn’ want this to end, he thinks for possibly the thousandth time that night. He doesn’ wanna let her get back in her car an’ drive across town, over the train tracks, past the antique shop, until she gets to the bed & breakfast.

He wants her right here, and he’s never been the one in this position, but he doesn’ hesitate when he asks her, “D’y’wanna come in?”

She nods, and it sets his chest aflame. They straighten up, untanglin’ themselves from one another even as she leans into his side, not wantin’ t’be too far. Clyde’s hands shake as he unlocks the front door but he doesn’ care if she sees. He wants her to see, wants her to know what she’s doin’ t’him. Maybe then...maybe she won’t leave.

Clyde flicks on the lights, closin’ the door behind both of ‘em. He watches as Juniper assesses his things: his clumsily cleaned living area, the small kitchenette that was (thankfully) decluttered. The hallway leads back to the bathroom, and then his bedroom, but Clyde doesn’ dare look towards it, much less lead her that way. Instead, he steps towards the fridge, hand reachin’ out to brush against the door.

“Want anythin’ t’drink?” He asks, voice quiet, as if nervous to disturb the silence. Juniper shoots him a smile, shakin’ her head as she perches on the couch.

“No, I’m okay, thank you.”

Clyde nods, lingerin’ there even though he doesn’ want a drink neither. Her eyes look him over, amusement showin’ in them.

“Why don’t you c’mere? If you want, of course.”

He wants. Oh, how he wants. So he goes, movin’ across the distance between them in three long strides until he can sit himself next to her. He’s stock straight, heart thrummin’ in his chest; his nice button-down feels all tight against his skin, too itchy. He thinks only her touch’ll soothe it, but doesn’ wanna ask her. Juniper, however, reads his mind; she always can. She smoothes a hand over his jean-clad thigh, leanin’ in ever so slowly, like she’s gonna startle him if she moves too fast. Clyde’s breath catches in his throat as she kisses him again, and it's heaven, it's heaven.

It’s different from in the car, from on the porch. This time there’s more purpose to it. Juniper’s kissin’ him—tastin’ him— like he belongs to her, and Clyde thinks maybe it's because she knows he does. He’s tryna’ angle his body just right, tryin’ t’lean down without puttin’ a crick in his neck. Not that he’d care much, if he did--a crick was worth this, worth the feelin’ of her tongue brushin’ against his bottom lip, against his teeth.

Juniper makes a frustrated little noise, pullin’ back, and Clyde’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Wha--Wha’s--?” He stammers out, flesh hand flexin’ on her waist, the silky fabric of her dress feelin’ so soft and cool against his skin. Juniper’s lips are plush and kiss bitten; Clyde tries to take a picture of ‘em in his memory, eyes trained on their pretty color. He almost misses her question. Scratch that, he does miss her question; has to very ineloquently say “huh?” to get her to repeat it. She ducks her head, voice shy.

“Can I, uh--get in your lap?”

Shit. Shit. Clyde nearly feels dizzy for all the blood rushin’ down south. It makes him a little self-conscious; she’s not gonna want t’sit on his lap and have his cock pressin’ into her all demandin’ like. But damn, his little Junebug looks so eager, her eyes darker than he’s ever seen ‘em, and like he’d said: he wants. So he just nods, barely breathin’.

Juniper shifts, pushin’ him into the back of the couch and he goes easily, willingly. She hikes her dress up her legs and Clyde gets a barely there peek of dark green lace before she’s straddlin’ his lap. He moans, can’t fuckin’ help it, and Juniper dives in to capture the sound with her mouth. Her hands are on his face, in his hair, fingers rubbin’ the shells of his ears—he’s surrounded, he’s drownin’, suffocatin’. He’s never felt so alive.

His own hands are placed chastely on either one of her hips, though he knows his flesh hand must be grippin’ her somethin’ fierce. The thought flashes in his mind, of him leavin’ little fingerprint shaped bruises on her skin for her to feel the next day. It makes him shiver underneath her.

Juniper takes and takes, and Clyde lets her. Clyde wants to be taken, in whatever way she’ll have him. Suddenly she’s pullin’ away just enough to suck in a little air, lips still brushin’ against his. He presses his long nose into the soft skin of her cheek, breath hot between them. When Juniper speaks, her voice is strained.

“Touch me, Clyde. Please.”

He doesn’ hesitate. His good hand moves from her hip to her ass, grabbin’, kneadin’ as he pulls her tighter against him. She lets out the prettiest noise Clyde thinks he’s ever heard, and his lips find her neck as his other arm comes around to hold her close. God, she tastes so good; her perfume fills his head until he feels dizzy with it.

She's pressed flush to him like this, grindin’ her hips against his. Clyde’s hard and leakin’ in his brand new jeans and the only thing he can think of is hearin’ her little noises again. Her hands are back in his hair, pullin’ at it, sweepin’ it away from his face so he doesn’ get tangled in it as his mouth makes a hot path down the neckline of her dress.

It feels so damn good that Clyde doesn’ realize she’s tryin’ to get his attention until she yanks on his tresses, his scalp burnin’ from it. Honestly he thinks he groans, rough and wild in his throat, the pain shootin’ straight to his cock. But it makes him look at her, and she holds him from divin’ back into her skin.

“Clyde I wanna—I wanna taste you. Is that okay? Can I?”

Lord Almighty above. That should be his line, it really should. But how can he argue with her? He’d give her anythin’ she wanted, anythin’. And she wanted—wanted to put her mouth on him. Clyde spares a thought for all the trimmed and proper men he’s seen in porn, how much nicer they looked, how Juniper deserved the best. West coast mean surely didn’ look the way he did. But then,“Yes,” he’s sayin’, voice ragged, “yes.”

And she’s slippin’ out of his lap onto the floor between his legs. Clyde’s heart pinches, and he leans forward to pick her right back up. To say “oh, darlin’, y’don’ need to be on the hard floor like that. Lemme stand an’ you c’n sit right back on these here pillows.” But before he can get his legs under him she's pressin’ her face between ‘em, nuzzlin’ into the scratchy fabric of his jeans, right up against his cock. Clyde’s brain short circuits.

“Been wantin’ this.” Juniper murmurs, small hands workin’ at his belt, and Clyde arches his hips up, tryin’ t’help her get his jeans off. He can’t believe this—can’t believe this is happenin’. She tugs his jeans and pants down his legs, just enough that his cock is revealed. Clyde clumsily unbuttons the first couple buttons at the bottom of his shirt, not wantin’ to get the new fabric messy. Juniper seems to like his idea; she sighs and leans forward to press her lips to the bare skin of his stomach.

“Sweetheart.” Clyde whispers, voice all trembly. He stretches out a little, givin’ her more access to his pale abdomen. Her lips are so soft against his skin, against the dark trail of hair leadin’ down, down, down. She follows it, nosin’ to the crook of his thigh, teeth scrapin’ deliciously ‘fore she turns her attention to his cock—already plump and stiff, and very interested in her ministrations. She wraps a hand around it and Clyde’s breath catches in his throat. She studies his cock, gives it a gentle stroke, thumb rubbin’ at the velvety head.

“You’re so big.” Her voice is quiet, but it startles Clyde all the same—he’s been transfixed by the vision in front of him.

“O-Oh, I-m, uh—“

He’s attemptin’ to apologize—his first instinct, really. But his brain isn’t really functionin’ all that well, and then she’s leanin’ in to lave her tongue over his slit. Clyde groans, a sound comin’ deep from his chest as he zeros in on the pretty pink of her soft, wet tongue. Juniper hums as if she’s pleased, a little smile on her face, and then she’s slippin’ her mouth over his cock in earnest.

Clyde’s head drops back against the couch pillow, lungs strugglin’ to suck in air. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck—it felt so good. She was gorgeous, she was perfect, she was a fucking angel doin’ this for him. She couldn’ take all of him into her mouth but goddamn she was tryin’. It didn’ matter—even if she wasn’ usin’ her hand to make up the difference, Clyde thinks he could cum just from seein’ her there between his legs, her silky soft lips on his skin.

He moves with her—not in a way where he’s pushin’ her or askin’ for more, but in a way where she’s pullin’ him; she’s the ebb and flow of the tide and he follows her willingly. His back arches, toes curlin’ up in his boots; his prosthetic settles on top of her free hand where it was grippin’ one of his large thighs. His other hand is too busy grippin’ the couch cushions to do much else. He’s lost to it—to her—an’ he doesn’ wanna be found.

It’s over far too quickly, embarrassingly so—it even surprises him. He’s ridin’ the high of his pleasure and his orgasm hits him so hard and fast that Clyde barely has any time t’warn her. All he can do is make a frantic noise, her name garbled in his throat as he quickly tries to push her off a’ him. But it’s too late—he’s cummin’ the same time that she’s pullin’ away, and Clyde can only watch in an odd mix of both arousal and horror as his cum paints her chin, neck, and cleavage.

Juniper’s mouth is held open in a surprised little ‘o’ shape, brows arched, and Clyde feels fuckin’ humiliated.

“J-Juniper, darlin’, m’so sorry, I—“ He scrabbles behind him for the throw blanket layin’ across the back of the couch, tuggin’ it into his lap so he can clean his mess off a’ her skin. He’s quick to tend to the spend on her cleavage first, hyperaware of how close it was to the fabric of her pretty black dress. “I’m sorry, I tried t’warn ya but it was too—“

“Clyde, it’s okay.” Her voice is all raspy and Clyde bites back a moan at the sound of it. She was so fuckin’ sexy, fuckin’ flawless. He’d cum all over her, messy and wild, and she was still lookin’ at him like he’d hung the damn moon. She pulls herself to standin’, and Clyde’s gaze dips down to where her knees were all red from kneelin’. Just another thing he didn’ know he found hot until now.

“But I guess it’s a little dangerous to keep this on, huh?”

His gaze snaps up to her face when she speaks, and she’s wearin’ a grin, eyes alight. Then she’s twistin’ her arms around, wrigglin’ out of that cute little dress until it graces the linoleum floor. She bends down to pick it up, drapin’ it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. She moves like it’s nothin; like the sight of her in her heels and underwear ain’ makin’ his cock try to thicken up again.

“Yer so beautiful.” He tells her, gaze trained on her as she walks back over to him. Clyde feels so small with her standin’ in front of him; feels vulnerable even if he was still mostly dressed. Juniper steps out of her heels slowly, placin’ them to the side before leanin’ in, restin’ her hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head so she can kiss him.

Clyde runs his flesh hand over her bare waist, down the swell of her hip, toyin’ with the band of her underwear. He doesn’t push it down; he won’t without her permission. It’s enough to kiss her like this, soft and lazy, feelin’ her skin underneath his. He feels all gooey and happy from his orgasm, even if it had come sooner than he’d have liked.

He sighs into her mouth, content; chases her lips when she pulls away. Juniper starts to work on the buttons of his shirt, and he sits up to help her ease it off a’ his shoulders. She folds it neatly, settin’ it to the side; Clyde forces himself to speak, tryin’ to get his brain back in workin’ order. “D’y’wanna—wanna go back to the bedroom? You c’n lay down and I’ll—I’ll take care a’ ya.”

He thinks he sounds all awkward and silly, but Juniper gives him a warm smile, and his insecurities fade. She was always comfortin’ him, whether she knew it or not. She places one last lingerin’ kiss to his lips before noddin’ at him. “I’d like that.”

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taglist friends!

@paper-n-ashes @glassbxttless @mariesackler @leatherboundbirate @millenialcatlady @jynzandtonic @peachyproserpina

#clyde logan #clyde logan fic #clyde logan x ofc #logan lucky #clyde logan smut #clyde logan fluff #clyde logan x oc #adcu #feedback always welcome & appreciated!#clyde logan x original female character #tori writes

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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I Won’t Lie: Handler Todd/ 435689

The results from last night’s Livewrite! PLEASE heed content warnings, this one is intense.

CWs: Whump involving a minor (character is 16), beating, broken bone, referenced noncon (in the form of gross jokes + internal thought, nothing happens), degrading/dehumanizing language, Box Boy setting. Briefly referenced forcd malnourishment/starvation. Captor bonding / emotional manipulation

“I didn’t fucking do anything wrong!” The boy stumbled forward through the open door, nearly tripping on his own feet and just barely caught himself, his arms out for balance. As soon as he’d come to a stop he spun around, hands curled into fists at his side, glaring up at the handler.

He didn’t know this one’s name. If they weren’t your primary and didn’t take a special interest, you never learned their names.

“You sure as fuck did,” The handler snapped back at him, and there was victory just in getting a handler to lose his temper, but the boy’s heart was pounding fast with fear, too. Not enough fear to make him back down - not yet. “You stole. Even outside that’s a fuckin’ crime, ‘689.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed and he drew himself up to his full height, wishing he was taller. Wishing that doing this didn’t make him feel ridiculous next to the handler, when he barely came up to the guy’s shoulders. “I. Didn’t. Steal.”

“On top of that,” The handler continued, like the boy hadn’t even spoken, “you gave that stolen food to a trainee currently being disciplined. He was going without for a reason, you stupid little shit, did you even think to ask?”

“It doesn’t matter! He was fucking hungry!” The boy all but screamed the words - they’d had this argument over and over all the way from the cafeteria, where he’d been caught, to the training room he’d been thrown into.

“You’re all fucking hungry,” The handler sneered, then sighed, rubbing at his temples with his fingertips as he took the boy in. “That’s the whole point. So you’re up to two infractions - stealing food and giving stolen food to a disciplined trainee. Hence… here.” He gestured around, and the boy swallowed, hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking anywhere but right into his stupid blocky blotchy face.

He’d never been in one of these training rooms - he was for cleaning, whenever someone wanted him, and they didn’t train for that here. This was a training room for the Romantics, and he didn’t have to look around to know that.

If he kept his face set in anger like this - kept his eyes narrowed and his back straight and his legs a little apart so his bare feet were flat on the cold tile floor - he felt stronger than he really was, and he didn’t have to think about how worried he was that the handler had brought him here for more than the usual kind of punishment.

It wasn’t supposed to happen to the ones like him.

A lot of things weren’t supposed to happen here. A lot of things still did.

“I didn’t steal,” He said, one more time, and pitched his voice as low as it would go. “I don’t steal. I didn’t, and I don’t, and you have to stop saying I’m lying when I’m not!”

“Where’d you get it, then, huh? The granola bar you gave that smartass little shit when you took his fucking muzzle off. Where’d you get it?”

The boy backed up as the handler moved forward, eyes flicking back and forth to try and look without looking. Behind him, he knew, there was a padded table with buckled restraints that lined every single side - he’d seen that when he was pushed through the door. He knew there were cabinets, and a table along the wall, and some chairs or something.

Maybe he could grab the chair?

His eyes went towards the little metal folding chair closest to him, but then the handler moved forward fast, almost bolting forwards, and the boy stumbled away and to the side, safe for the moment - but farther from the only weapon he’d seen.

“Someone gave it to me,” He said, moving backwards still. He felt so fucking small, with the handlers… he was small. He was younger than everyone else he’d ever seen that he could remember, all sharp elbows and knees, and there were other trainees who fought back but none of them ever fought long enough to matter.

He wanted to fight enough for it to matter to someone, even if it was just… taking off somebody’s muzzle when no one was looking and giving him something to eat. It hadn’t felt wrong, even though they kept saying it was, and he knew the handlers were always right, but…

“A handler gave it to me,” He said, finally, making his voice as firm as he could with his heart still beating in his throat. “He gave it to me and told me to, to save it for when I needed it. And I needed it for the, um, the other trainee.”

“Im-fucking-possible,” The handler replied, but he came to a stop, and the boy let out a breath of relief, as he managed to put a little more distance between them. “There’s no way that’s true. And trust me, you do not want to blame one of us for your mistakes, 689.”

“I’m, I’m not!” With the distance between them, the boy could breathe again, and he took one more step back, and then another, trying to calm himself down. “I’m not lying, you can, you can ask!”

“Fine, then, I’ll ask. Sit your ass down.” When the boy didn’t move, the handler sighed again, like the boy was the problem here, and pointed down towards the floor like a man giving orders to a dog. When the boy still didn’t move, the irritation and annoyance written across the handler’s face darkened even more.

“I said sit the fuck down. In the chair or on the mat, I don’t care, but your ass sits on something in less than ten seconds or I’ll make it hurt bad enough that you can’t.”

The boy had a single breath of rebellious thought - well that would defeat the purpose of the fucking order, wouldn’t it? - before fear won and he dropped to the ground on the thick padded mat on the floor, pulling his knees in close to himself, staring up at the handler. “Yes, handler,” he muttered, picking at the thin fabric of his black trainee shorts, looking up through his eyelashes with his chin down, dark brown hair falling over his face, so he could watch the man move without it being obvious.

“Good boy,” The handler snapped without feeling, and pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket, eyeing it while still trying to keep his vision on the boy, as though he might sprout wings and fly away… as though he could do anything here but be where and what they wanted. “The handler who you claim gave it to you. What’s his name? Is it your primary?” He scrolled through something, eyes rapidly moving back and forth as he read. “Says your primary is…”

“Todd gave it to me,” The boy said quickly. His primary was someone else - he didn’t want him here, no matter what. Not now. Maybe the boy would get lucky and the primary wouldn’t even know until he came back tomorrow. “Handler Todd did. He, he gives me food sometimes.”

“Todd?” The handler looked up, surprised. “Fucking Todd? Shit, he would, too. That guy’s got some creepy thing about you underagers. Yeah, okay… let’s see. Maybe Todd gets in the shit and not you tonight.”

“W-wait-” The boy’s eyes widened. “Wait, he’d get in trouble?”

He hadn’t thought about that. He didn’t even know handlers could get in trouble. They did anything they wanted, they could do anything they wanted to anyone at all. He hadn’t thought about how… Todd was at work. He could get punished, too.

Guilt hit him, like a blow to the back, and the boy slumped forwards, putting his hands over his face. Oh no. I’ll get Todd in trouble because I gave it to someone else instead of eating it.

“What, you think we’re supposed to fuck up your specially designed nutrient-rich blah blah bullshit diets? No, if he’s giving you special shit on the side, he’ll get written up for it. I mean, not that he doesn’t, right?” The handler grinned at him, briefly, and the boy wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I mean, there’s got to be a reason he’s so obsessed with you, right?”

He’s just nice. Not like you.

The boy turned his face away, staring down at the bright red mat, redder than anything he’d ever seen before. Then again, all of what he saw was mostly variations on white. Except for when he was bleeding.

The handler spoke into his phone, low and soft, words that didn’t quite carry across the room. While he talked, the boy continued to stare at the mat, letting his eyes - and his mind - go slowly unfocused. He still felt guilt welling up like tears and had to keep swallowing it down - if he got Todd in trouble, he’d feel terrible. He should have thought of a lie before he gave the granola bar away, or just… maybe if he’d just admitted to stealing it, they wouldn’t even have asked from who…

Finally, the handler stuck his phone back in his pocket and glanced over. “All right, he’s on his way. Lucky for your dumb ass he’s working tonight.”

Was it night? The boy looked up, puzzled, eyebrows furrowing. But he’d just had breakfast. How was it night? Or… had that been dinner… but he’d only woken up a couple of hours ago… He tried to cut off the train of thought when he caught the handler’s stupid fucking grin back on his face.

“If he vouches for you, you’re off the hook. Back in your room, I’ll get you there myself, no harm no foul. Yeah?”

The boy just stared, curling himself up a little tighter.

“If he doesn’t, and you’re a filthy little liar giving stolen food to bad pets, then you’ll be disciplined for that. Now I know you get the easy stuff mostly-”

If this is easy, what’s it like if it’s not?

“-but you’ll get real discipline if you fuck up on my shift. So you best hope your little story checks out. Just sit tight and wait for him to get here.” The handler smirked and then went back to the door, leaving the boy alone in the room.

He looked around once the handler was gone and no longer the center of his entire field of vision. There was a little fridge in the corner, and a small counter and sink, and he stared at that, feeling his own stomach gnaw hollow inside him. There was a rush of saliva to his mouth at the idea that there might be food in that fridge - he’d skipped his own meal to have time to sneak the bar to the muzzled boy, and the shakes never kept you full long enough.

He couldn’t, though. He’d been ordered to sit, and he’d already messed up too much today. But… his eyes kept drifting, over to the fridge - and then snap back to the door. Over to the fridge - back to the door.

If he’d just eaten the stupid bar when Todd gave it to him, he’d be full right now and nobody would be in trouble. As it was, he’d tried to be nice, and all he’d done was get the muzzled boy, himself, and probably Handler Todd all disciplined.

“God damn it,” He muttered, lower than a whisper even, and kicked at the stupid red mat he was sitting on.

Why couldn’t he stop trying to do stuff like this? It only ever got him in trouble, sticking up for other people, and Todd was always telling him to stop sticking his neck out or it’d get cut off, but he just… couldn’t.

They kept telling him, when they disciplined him, that he must like being hurt, since he kept fucking up, and the boy was starting to wonder if fuck up, get hurt was all he was good for. Well, that and scrubbing the stupid fucking floors.

At least he had Todd. At least there was somebody nice here.

He had just about talked himself into looking into the fridge when he heard voices and footsteps and was so, so glad he’d been good and stayed on the mat.

If you’d gotten up when you first thought about it, you could have seen what was in there and eaten by now.

The boy ignored the voice and waited, listening to the soft beeping as a passcode was entered on the other side, then the familiar ssshhhh-click of the door unlocking, the way every single door in this entire place unlocked as far as he could tell. When the handler came back in, the boy was sitting in the exact same spot on the mat where he’d been left, looking up politely, his face schooled into a sort of obedient remorse.

He was getting better at lying, except for when they caught him at things outright.

Behind the handler was Todd, right on his heels, an expression of uncomfortable concern on his face that the boy couldn’t quite read.

“All right, here we go,” The handler said, closing the door. “Look. 435689 here was caught giving granola bar to another trainee today.”

“He was?” Todd’s eyes widened with surprise, and he looked over at the boy, taking in his appearance, then looking back. “He doesn’t look like he’s been disciplined yet-”

“He hasn’t.”

“Well, if I could step in and take care of that problem…”

The boy felt his heart leap, just a little, and leaned forwards, resting his weight on his hands on the floor. Todd’s punishments were always easy to handle, nothing that even hurt, just things like scrubbing extra floors or standing in one place with his nose to the wall for a really long time. Come on come on come on-

“Nope, you’re part of the problem, according to him.”

“I’m what?” Todd’s expression changed - a nervous look was there, now, and the boy’s initial burst of hope faded, just a little. “How am I part of the problem, Jenkins?”

“He says you’re the one who gave it to him. That you gave him contraband with your own hand. That true, Todd? You’ll get pulled up to the Director for that kind of bullshit.”

Todd was quiet, but he looked away from the boy, then, and met the other handler’s eyes. “That’s hardly worth bothering Renford about-”

“Bullshit it’s not. Look, I get that you like to, like, get in there and treat ‘em like people now and then. I don’t question your process. But when you start fucking up their meal pattern, you fuck up the cognitive changes, too.”

“Yeah, I know, Jenkins, I went to orientation the same as you did.”

“So you know how essential the nutrient disruptions are to the process. If you’re handing out food to the underagers, you’re screwing up everything we’re trying to do to them.”

The boy watched the conversation like a man watching a terrifying tennis match, brown eyes moving quickly back and forth from one to the next. He understood almost nothing they were saying - words like cognitive and nutrient disruption didn’t mean anything, they were just sounds made by tongues and teeth. But he understood that Todd might be in trouble, and being in trouble meant that he’d have to speak to Director Renford.

The boy’s throat nearly closed up at the thought.

He’d met the Director face-to-face one time, when he’d hit a handler with a closed-up nutrient shake bottle so hard he’d given the guy a black eye. He never, ever wanted to see her ever, ever again.

The idea of Todd having to talk to her was almost worse somehow. The boy’s whole life was here, Todd had somewhere to go home to and he didn’t. He shouldn’t have to be scared of the Director, like the boy was. He shouldn’t have to be in trouble.

“So did you give him the bar or not?” Jenkins asked, looking half-bored with the argument by now.

Todd barely hesitated.

“No. I came to see him in his room yesterday. He was upset, and I-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you did,” Jenkins gave an exaggerated wink, and while the boy stared down at the floor with his face turning red, Todd’s jaw only set into a line.

“Yes,” Todd said evenly. “And he must have taken it out of my clothes when I wasn’t paying attention.” He looked over at the boy, and sighed. “You try to be fucking nice to them, and this is what you get.”

The boy let out a breath, all at once.

It was good, for Todd not to get in trouble because the boy hadn’t been careful enough. It was good that Todd would be okay. Todd had done a good thing to make sure that he wouldn’t be disciplined with the Director and he could still come see the boy and the other ones like him, be nice to them when nobody else was.

So… why did it hurt, that he didn’t just admit that the boy had told the truth?

Relief fought with a sharp kind of sadness he couldn’t really give a name to, and the boy swallowed it back, forced it down inside of himself where he always had to force his anger. He couldn’t quite make the heat that burned in his eyes go away, he had to choose one thing or the other, and so he let the tears build.

They only made him look guiltier, anyway.

“I’m sorry, H-Handler Todd,” he said, letting the sniffle come through in his voice.

“Yeah, you should be,” Todd said, with a cold, firm voice he had never used before. “I don’t have to stick my neck out like I do, ‘689, come on…” He sighed, and looked back at Jenkins. “Look, I can handle the discipline on this one, Jenkins. He tried to point fingers at me, let me be the one to show him not to do that again.”

Jenkins rolled his eyes. “Sure, if the lying was it, but it’s not. He also took another trainee’s muzzle off to give him the contraband. So that’s, what, three infractions? All at once? I don’t trust you to do enough to make it stick. You’re soft on ‘em all, anyway. Come on, grab your baton.”

The boy’s eyes dropped to the black batons all the handlers wore at their belts, with the little button that took the pain of the blow and added the shocks that were a thousand times worse.

He had to remember how to breathe, staring at them - the air was stuck somewhere between his lungs and his throat, little bubbles of panic resting just behind his collarbone threatening to simply stay there and suffocate him.

Why had he been so stupid? Todd had trusted him, given him that granola bar to eat because he cared, because he thought the boy would eat it himself, and he’d, everything he’d done ever since had been so stupid.

“Yeah, okay,” Todd said, pulling the black baton off his hip. “Come on, 435689, up you go. Hands on the table, back to us.”

“How many, you think?” Jenkins asked, the two of them watching the boy push himself to his feet on knees that wanted badly to buckle and send him back to the floor. If he fell, though, it’d get worse - they’d add more to the count, or they’d do something that hurt even more. “Jesus, he’s skinny.”

“Yeah, he is,” Todd said, smacking the baton into the palm of his free hand, watching the boy flinch. His mouth was a thin line, and the boy looked up. He was sure he could see real worry for him there, real concern. That Todd wasn’t really mad at him.

There wasn’t anyone else - Todd was all he had. If he was mad because the boy had done the wrong thing… but no. No, he was sure if he looked close enough, that Todd wasn’t really upset. Maybe he’d keep coming to the boy’s room and showing him pictures, being something in his day that wasn’t training and drugs and broken, dozing sleep.

The boy padded silently across the tile floor - each step felt more like walking on ice than the last - and finally came to a stop in front of them. He tried to search Todd’s eyes for more of… of something. Anything more reassuring than just the little bit of hope he had that what he was reading was being upset for him and not at him.

“Twenty-one,” Todd said, and his eyes were cold “Turn around, 689. Palms on the padding. Three sets of seven.”

The padding had a little bit of give under his hands, and he leaned forward. He knew what they wanted him to look like, for this, and he fixed his eyes on a spot on the wall. Just plain white nothing, and he took in a deep breath and held it as long as he could. Had to find the place where his thoughts could go away, and he could just get through this and to the next pain, and the next.

His thin shoulders were hunched up near his chin, he swam in the white V-neck T-shirt because there weren’t any made for someone as short and skinny as he was.

“That sounds good,” Jenkins said, still grinning, but it had widened - he was going to enjoy this, in a way Todd clearly wasn’t. “Seven for each infraction. He looks like he’ll crack after ten, so that sounds good to me.”

Todd cleared his throat, swinging the baton a little, warming up his arm. The boy tried not to notice it in the corner of his eye. “You count, got it, 689?”

“Yes, Handler,” The boy said, keeping his eyes on the wall. Pure white. Nothing but white, and if he tried not to blink he could let it bleed into his brain and take over his thoughts. Nothing but white.

He had made a mistake, taking the gift Todd had given him and giving it to someone else. He’d been… kind of mean, to ever want Todd to take responsibility for it and get in trouble instead. He’d been the one to do all the wrong things, and they punished you, then. He knew that.

But he was still fighting back a twist of betrayal inside of him, a part that had hoped Todd would admit that the granola bar really had come from him. He was still fighting a tiny little voice that said if he cared about you, he wouldn’t have lied to make himself look better.

Todd was all he had. The only one who cared. He couldn’t listen to the voice that said he didn’t, because if that was true… there wasn’t any end to that thought, only fear. Only the white walls and white floors and white light and nothing else.

“He counts,” Jenkins said thoughtfully. “He counts, and he says ‘I won’t give food to punished pets’ for the first seven.”

Todd, who the boy couldn’t see any longer, made some kind of noncommittal noise.

“Then for the second, he says, ‘I won’t remove protective gear from dangerous pets.’”

Another soft hmm.

“Then for the third, he says, ‘I won’t point fingers at handlers’. Or ‘I won’t lie’. Which do you like better?”

Todd paused, and the boy tried to keep breathing, taking in the calmest breaths he could. They kept shaking, every inhale felt thin, every exhale shuddered out of him all at once, forced out by squeezing lungs.

Back, or legs, this time? Back or legs? They switch it up, they think it’s funny - maybe both. Back or legs?

“For the third set, I vote, uh… the, uh, second one.”

I didn’t fucking lie. The anger leaps up in him, burns right past the fear and the boy’s mouth opens to protest again before he snaps it shut, dropping his head straight onto the table to keep himself in control, breathing hard through his nose. I didn’t lie, I didn’t lie, you gave it to me and I didn’t lie…

No. He couldn’t be mad at Todd. He was just trying to be safe, to not get in trouble, to not end up in front of her. It was all an act, just a show for the other handler. It was fine, it was okay if Todd lied a little and pretended the boy had lied, it was fine because if it was fine, that meant Todd would still come back to see him tomorrow.

“Great. I’ll take first and second round. I know you’ve got some kind of weird hardon for this kid, I’ll only make you do one set.” There was a kind of thump, a really light soft sound, and the boy realized that Jenkins was patting Todd on the back. Sympathizing. “It’s always hard to discipline your faves, right? I’ve got this cute little-”

“Please stop,” Todd said, tightly. “Let’s just get this done.”

“Man, you never want to talk trainees with the rest of us. Whatever. Brace up, ‘689.”

There was a pause, just long enough for the boy to steady himself and press his forehead and his palms as hard into the surface of the table as he could, and then he felt the black baton connect with the middle of his back in a sudden burst of pain.

He grunted, having to gasp for air at first, lifting one hand and smacking it back down into the table in an attempt to have some control, and then said, “One! I won’t give food to punished pets!”

“Good boy. Next up.”

The next blow was higher up, near his shoulder blades. The third, on his thighs instead, buckling his knees and forcing him to scramble back up onto his feet to avoid the fourth hitting his head instead of his upper back, just barely getting back into position in time. Each blow hit harder, his voice was thinner and smaller.

The flat space in his mind was close, if he just held on a little longer he could find it, slip away behind the wide-eyed, blank-faced stare they all learned sooner or later. But they hurt him too much, too often - it took more and more for him to feel pain that didn’t feel normal, now.

Handler Jenkins was worse, on the second round. The blows were harder, stronger, layered over the places he had hit before. The boy’s initial grunts turned to cries of pain, and he was all but draped over the table, struggling to keep his legs under him, scared of what would happen if he fell on the floor.

But still, he counted.

“Th-thirteen… w-won’t… remove protective gear from, from dangerous pets…”

Shouldn’t have helped. Shouldn’t have stuck my neck out for someone. Why can’t I just stop doing that? Why can’t I stop getting in trouble for other people? Why am I the one who fucks up and gets hurt, over and over?

“One more, and then it’s on you,” Handler Jenkins said from behind him. “Straighten yourself, trainee, you look like a Romantic after a long day. Get your fucking spine straight.”

The boy pushed himself back up, legs trembling, pressing the soles of his feet as deeply into the cold, unforgiving tile as he could. He braced the palms of his hands against the edge of the table, and a low whine of pain was all the sound he made as he stood up straight, as tall as he could get.

The final hit from Handler Jenkins hit him so hard on his thighs that it knocked him forwards, slamming his stomach into the edge of the table as his knees finally gave up and crashed him to the floor.

He crumbled more than he fell, every exhale a pained whine, scrabbling at the side of the table with his hands, trying desperately to pull back up.

“Hit him any harder than that and you’ll break a fucking bone,” Todd said. His voice was thin, and strained. A hint of paternal affection ran through, the boy thought, not that he knew what having a dad was like.

He’s worried about me. He still cares about me. Get back up, you stupid pet, get back up. The boy struggled, but his feet seemed to slip and slide along the tile, he couldn’t seem to find purchase.

“If I did, maybe he’d really learn his lesson. I didn’t hear you counting, trainee.”

“Fourteen,” the boy whispered. His attempts to pull himself back up weren’t really working, all he felt was an awful, sickening pain that throbbed with his heartbeat from his lower thighs up through his shoulder blades. “Won’t… gear. Won’t… take the muzzle off… again.”

“That’s not quite right, but… yeah, okay, you can have that one.” Jenkins laughed, the sound grated along the boy’s jangling nerves and he choked off a sob, tried to shove it down where the anger and hurt lived already. “Your turn, Todd. Finish ‘im off.”

There was a long silence, and then footsteps, and the boy’s arm was roughly grabbed. He yelped as he was dragged back up to his feet. “Gotta stand up or it doesn’t count, trainee,” Handler Jenkins drawled, shoving him forward so he rested with his elbows on the table, bent over it at the waist.

He sagged, nearly falling again, and Jenkins slapped him in the center of his back with the flat of his hand. “I said stand up.”

He’d held it back until then, but the boy finally screamed at the impact that lit up the welts, crashed even more pain through nerves that had been certain they’d already taken as much as they could.

“He can’t stand up on his own,” Todd snapped. “You hit too hard, jackass. Let him take a break.”

“No fuckin’ way, I got shit to do today. I’m not changing my schedule for him.” Jenkins shoved the boy’s elbow to the side, buckling it into the restraint closest to it, tightly enough that the boy might have cared if he wasn’t already just eyes and a brain and agony anyway.

One arm buckled in and then the other, and when he stepped away the boy’s legs weren’t holding him up any longer - the leather biting hard into his forearms was, cutting and digging, pressing deeply in. It hurt and after a second his fingertips started to buzz, bloodflow struggling to push through the constriction.

The boy stared dazedly down, tears running down his face and dripping clear as glass onto the table, and thought, I’ll have bruises there tomorrow. A semi-hysterical laugh threatened, somewhere deep in his throat. And everywhere else, too.

More silence, and then Todd said, in a low voice, “Remember to count, trainee.”

“And remember to say you won’t lie,” Jenkins added.

There was an exhalation - Todd sighed, maybe. The boy couldn’t see, didn’t know. He’d closed his eyes by then, forehead back to rest on the cool of the tabletop. He was boneless and hurting and broken.

Why did I try to be nice when it just hurts all the time?

The first blow from Todd wasn’t half as hard as Jenkins hit, but that didn’t really matter anymore, because he was hitting places that already hurt and lighting them up again. The boy jerked forward, whimpering at the impact against the back of one hip.

“Fifteen, I… I w-won’t…”

I didn’t lie, I didn’t, I told the truth, why are you making me say that I lied about you?

“... I won’t lie,” he finished, slumped. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t lied, it didn’t.

“Good boy,” Todd said softly.

The boy wondered if Jenkins could hear the relief the same way he could. Todd hadn’t known if he would say it until then. I can lie for you. I can tell lies for you, just please come back to see me again.

The next one, and the next. He said it over and over, I won’t lie, I won’t lie, even though he hadn’t, but by the fifth hit the boy felt like he had. He felt guilty. He’d been so fucking stupid.

Would anyone else here have gotten in trouble for him? Nobody else but Todd cared.

He started to really cry, then, pools of tears across the table beneath him, making his face wet when he pushed his cheek down into it and tried, desperately tried, to find the white space on the wall.

He’d almost gotten Todd in so much trouble, and he had gotten himself in trouble, and none of this was worth it.

“Six… won’t lie,” He groaned, pulling heedlessly and uselessly at the restraints just to do something - his body wanted so badly to escape, to at least try. His hands felt numb now, weirdly cold, and he stared at them wondering if they were turning red or if the red was all in his mind.

“Whoops, somebody’s about to drop out,” Jenkins said, voice drifting close and then far away in the boy’s awareness, laced with thick amusement. “Fucker forgot how to count.”

“He’s fine, Jenkins. He’s still got the right number for this set, I’ll count it.”

“Too fucking soft on him, Todd. Make him do it again.”

“No.”

“Don’t let him get away with being a lazy shit and miscounting, make him do it again.”

The boy wondered if handlers ever used their black sticks on each other. Handler fight, he thought, and let out a horrible half-conscious giggle. It shook his body enough to make him whimper again.

“I say he’s fine. Final blow. You got it in you, kiddo?”

There was a pause. Then Jenkins laughed, incredulously. “You fuckin’ call him kiddo?”

The boy’s heart warmed, under the layers of everything terrible there was this. He could hold onto that kiddo, could get his hands around that while everything else hurt too badly to think about. Kiddo made him sure. Kiddo meant Todd wasn’t mad, that he was definitely coming back.

“No, I just-...”

“I can do it,” The boy interrupted, groaning a little louder this time, trying to get Handler Jenkins’s attention on him, not on Todd. “I c’n, can take… two more. Fucked it uh, up. Can take two more.”

“Yeah, okay, kiddo,” Jenkins said, drawing the word out, making it mocking and awful where it always felt wonderful coming from Todd. “Guess I can do the last two for you, sport. That sound good to you, dude? Two more blows and then you’re done, old buddy, old pal?”

“Jesus, fuck off, Jenkins.”

“You call him your son, too? When the rest of us aren’t around? Are you that kind of fucked up? Call ‘im your son when you bend him over-”

“I said fuck off, Jenkins!”

He never touches me like that, he’s not like the rest of you, he’s better, he’s better than all of you, he’s better and he cares about me.

“Jeez, just teasing. If you do call him that shit, though, you should probably seek some kind of therapy for that, that’s pretty fucked up.”

The boy didn’t hear Todd’s answer, because the baton hit his back again harder than ever, and the boy’s awareness was nothing but black dots in his eyes and pain.

“T-t-twenty! I w-won’t… won’t… lie…”

Barely enough hesitation to breathe and then the next one hit, as hard as Jenkins could possibly swing, connecting with a sound like thunder through the boy’s body right along his right side. He felt something in his ribs crack and screamed - or tried to.

All that came out was a horrible thin wail.

Every breath hurt, shallow gasps all he could do, and he could barely whisper his final count.

“Twenty-one. W-won’t… lie… pl-please, please be d-done… please, ‘m sorry, so s-s-sorry…”

“Jesus Christ, you broke something,” Todd said, sounding stricken. “Jesus fucking-... why did you do that? Now he’ll have to go to the clinic, we’re gonna have to explain this, I’m not even his primary, Jenkins!”

“Yeah, well. Whoops. My hand must’ve slipped. He’ll know better than to lie now, won’t he? You want to get him to the nurse, or me?”

“I’ll do it,” Todd said, heavily. “I got this. Get out of here and go train your own fuckin’ boys.”

“Yeah, well.” Jenkins raised his voice. “Hope you learned your lesson, kiddo!” Footsteps, the door opened and then closed again. The boy didn’t move, sprawled over the table like someone’s discarded doll.

Should’ve just been like everyone else and not helped.

He heard the scrape of a footfall nearby and flinched, then cried out in pain as his right side right like he was on fire with pain, sharper and brighter and hotter than all the other aches combined.

“Sssshhhh,” Todd soothed. “Just me, kiddo. Just me.”

“... ‘m sorry,” The boy whispered, forcing his head to turn so he could look at Todd through bleary eyes. “Sorry, didn’t… g-get you in trouble. I’m sorry…”

“I know you are, buddy. Okay, I’m gonna have to call someone from medical, I think if I pick you up I’ll just make it worse. We’ll get you a gurney. You took your discipline really well. I’m really proud of you.” A hand carded through his hair, brushed against his forehead, cool and dry when the boy was pouring sweat and felt like everything that didn’t hurt from the blows was on fire.

He closed his eyes and moaned, a little, at how nice it felt to not be hit anymore, pushed his head into the hand that ruffled his hair. He could be a good pet, he could. He’d fucked up again today but he could be good, and not get hurt so much… he could.

“I’ll get you some help in the clinic. Just give me a couple of minutes, okay?”

“Sorry I was, was bad,” The boy rasped.

Todd’s hand paused, then petted through his hair one more time, lingered there. He slid his hand around to cup the side of the boy’s face, brushing tear tracks with his thumb.

“Don’t worry about it,” Todd said, softly “You were just trying to help that other boy. But what did we talk about, buddy?”

The boy took shallow breaths, stabbing pain in his right side with every motion. “N-not… not stick m’neck out an’... more.”

“Right. I don’t want you to get hurt, kiddo. You get why I had to pretend, right? So that I wouldn’t get fucked over and I could still come see you?” Todd’s fingers scratched lightly just behind his ear, and the boy whined, softly. He knew it was an animal kind of sound, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You get it, right?”

There was a hint of uncertainty in Todd’s voice.

Guilt, maybe?

But what did Todd have to feel guilty for?

“I… I do,” The boy managed, fingers twitching. When Todd reached out to take his hand, he couldn’t really feel it. “Get it. ‘M sorry you had… had to lie… because of me.”

“It’s okay.” Todd leaned down and kissed his sweaty hair and the boy felt whole new tears, relief and gratitude and something very much like love. “It’s okay, kiddo.”

“It… it is?”

“Yeah. You’re still a good boy.”

167 notes · View notes

angelguk · 5 years

Note

dad!guk and fam going to the animal shelter to adopt a dog

thank u for ur request! (disclaimer im sure that most animal shelters have a longer adoption process but this one is quite direct cause it’s a drabble)

Jungwoo’s literally vibrating in the back of the car. He keeps kicking his tiny feet against the seat, sipping idly on the banana milk you had pressed into his hands before he’d climbed into his safety seat. He’s mumbling under his breath, bright doe eyes gazing out the window, excitement palpable in the small space of the car. You sneak a glance at Jeongguk, who’s focused on the road, the sleeves of his grey sweater rolled up. He’s got a glimmer of a smile on his pink lips, ears perked at the sound of his son’s delight.

“Are we there yet?” Jungwoo whines, his impatience building, evident from how he claws at the seat.

“Not yet, bubs.” Jeongguk throws you a look, the faint smile on his lips spreading across his features, making his eyes crinkle with fondness. You grin broadly back at him, heart warm in your chest.

“Have you finished your milk?” You ask, trying to briefly distract him. Jungwoo shakes his head, taking a sip from the bottle, his soft dark curls swaying with the movement. He’s due for a haircut but ever since Jeongguk grew his hair out, Jungwoo has flat out refused any scissors near his scalp, insisting he wants his hair just like his dads. The curls do look pretty sitting on his head, although they’re about to start obscuring his vision. You might have to convince him to trim it - if he allowed you to do even that. But there is something oddly comforting about watching Jungwoo quiet and calm while his dad rubs jojoba oil on his scalp every night. It was a new bond for them, the long hair movement and it makes you happy to see them together like that. If he doesn’t want a trim, maybe you’ll just push it back into a ponytail instead.

The universe must be acting in his favour because traffic virtually disappears and you cruise down the streets easily, the Sunday afternoon sun splaying across your skin through the windows. Jungwoo stays quiet, apart from the occasional mumble and the soft humming along to the nursery rhymes playing on the speakers. You’re partially zoning out - one can only listen to Humpty Dumpty a number of times - but Jeongguk draws you right back into reality, rambling about a project he was doing for work. You listen with intent, the back of your mind registering how domestic this all is as you watch Jeongguk twist the steering wheel, the sound of your son humming in the background melting in the with his father's voice wrapping tenderly around your heart.

“Mommmm! Are we there yet?” Jungwoo whines interrupts, tapping his milk bottle on the window screen. Jeongguk glances at you and you read his mind through his honey eyes.

“Patience, love” You reply, twisting around to face him. “And stop hitting the window, big boys wait patiently. Are you not a big boy?” The berate is gentle but direct enough that Jungwoo drops the behaviour, dumping the bottle in the hand you’ve extended out to him.

“Yes,” He mumbles, staring at you with a long face. It had been one of the terms he’d agreed too when he’d asked for a dog. Jungwoo was a kind, caring boy but he often acted impishly if he didn’t get his way or wanted immediate attention. It was a behaviour you were trying to wean out of him and the whole ‘big boy’ rhetoric seemed to be working in your favour. His admiration for his father and older cousins were the reason for that.

“That’s right bubs you’re a big boy,” Jeongguk tacks on, hearing the fall in his son’s tone. “And look, we’re nearly there!” He’s right, the shelter is round the corner. There’s an immediate pick up in the atmosphere and you look up from tucking the bottle away to find him bouncing in the backseat, his dip in mood forgotten instantly.

He’s practically bounding out of the car when you finally get his belt unbuckled. It’s only by the quick reflex of his father’s hands that he’s stopped from planting face first into the ground. Jungwoo remains unfazed, shaking it off ratherly quickly as he lopes his fingers into his fathers.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s gooo!” And then he’s off, dragging Jeongguk in tow who swiftly tosses you the cars keys. You don’t berate him, understanding that his excitement was coming from a pure joyous place this time. And he’s been waiting for this moment ever since he brought up the topic of a dog several months ago. It’s a surprise to you that’s he’s not levitating straight into the building.

You join the two of them a moment later, car locked in the parking lot and your bag tucked under your arm, only to find Jeongguk standing at the counter, Jungwoo painfully absent.

“Where is he?” You ask, giving the lady behind the counter a kind smile and a passing greeting.

“Down somewhere there. He heard dogs and took off.” Jeongguk shrugs like it can’t be helped.

“You can take a look around with him before you decide - if you’re here to adopt,” She offers.

“Thank you, we’ll do that,” You respond, turning quickly when you here a little happy shriek echoing from down the hall. You feet carry you there fast, passing rows of dogs in cages and a handful of people tending to a litter of puppies. Some of the dogs barely glance at you but others react quickly, barking up a storm as your rubber soles squeak against the tile floor. “Jungwoo?” You call out, “Where are you?”

“Here!” Your eyes land on him a moment later, butt flat on the floor as he stares at a terrified dog through the wires. It’s crouched at the end of the cage, neatly curled up as it eyes your son suspiciously. It’s a stark contrast to the heart eyes Jungwoo is giving the poor animal.

“You’re scaring it,” Jeongguk mumbles, sliding past you to kneel beside him. His hands slip into his hair, a reflex at this point. “Give the animal some space, bubs.”

“Okay,” Jungwoo says, immediately backing away. But he doesn’t stand up, just slides his butt along the floor. “Are you okay now?” He asks the dog, leaning his small neck as far as it can go.

The dog blinks at him instead.

“Oh,” Says one of the employees you'd passed. You weren’t aware she’s followed you, but you’re immediately glad for her help. “That’s Petunia. She tends to be quite shy and I think you’re enthusiasm is scaring her, dear.” The lady brushes past you

“I didn’t mean to scare her,” Jungwoo mumbles, staring at the lady with doleful eyes.

“I know. She’s just a tad nervous but if you speak to her softly and pet her, she’ll like you.” She gives Jungwoo a bright smile while he obediently nods his head.

“Okay.” It’s a whisper this time, Jungwoo clearly heeding her advice. You bite back the smile on your lips but when you look at Jeongguk it comes right back, tugging the corner of your mouth upwards, your chest light with affection.

The lady’s already fiddling with the lock on her cage. Jungwoo doesn’t jump on the dog like you expect him too when the barrier is taken away. Instead he wants for the lady to coax the animal away from the corner she’s buried herself in. She stares at him for a brief moment, noise sniffing hard and her tail thumping the ground firmly as the lady introduces them. Jungwoo mumbles his name, hand twitching in his lap with the need to touch. When he’s given the go ahead he’s astonishingly gentle, patting her coat with extreme care.

“What’s her breed?” Jeongguk comments, his gaze soft as he watches the way Jungwoo handles her.

“A beagle. They’re rather energetic but they’re good with children. Petunia’s only one-years-old, so you still have the chance to train her. And she’s a bit more quiet than most beagles.” Petunia’s already starting to warm up Jungwoo now, cuddling right into his space, her tail high as she wags it.

“A beagle for our beagle,” You comment, sparing Jeongguk a look. He laughs softly, rising from the ground.

“Petunia’s perfect but you’ve chosen rather quickly, bubs. Wouldn’t you like to look around?” He questions gently.

“No.” It’s firm, and his hands are gingerly wrapped around her neck, chubby arms defiant.. Petunia’s rather satisfied, lapping lovely at his ear already. “I pick Tutu.”

“Tutu?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

“Tutu,” He insists, rubbing tenderly at her back. Her tail’s creating warps in the air with how fast she’s wagging it.

“Okay. Tutu’s our dog,” Jeongguk agrees, which is redundant anyway because Jungwoo’s already attached to animal now. Emotionally and physically.

The lady’s eyes are soft as she eyes the pair, joint on the concrete floor. “If you’d like to start looking at the forms I can help with that,” She offers, snapping the cage closed. “Your son’s quiet decisive.”

Jeongguk makes a funny noise in his throat. “Yeah. You could say that.”

#jeon family ft their beagle petunia :)#ask #anon #gonna tag this all as #dud #dad universe drabbles

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queen-scribbles · 5 years

Text

My Lucky Day

For @pillarspromptsweekly fill 97. My Roll for It elements: Edér, modern AU, and meet-cute bc I wouldn’t be me if I passed up the chance to write an Ederity meet-cute. :D

Normally the two o’clock hour was the most boring part of Charity’s shift. Most people were either still at work or just starting to commute home, Not many chose that time slot to pursue pet adoption(or even just looking). Normally at this point she’d be folding scrap paper footballs and seeing how far she could flick them down the counter, or finding an excuse to play with or love on one of the animals the shelter housed.

But not today. Today someone hadn’t properly latched one of the kennels and a certain hyperactive yellow lab had gleefully seized the opportunity to escape. Thus, Charity’s two o’clock hour so far had been spent chasing down chaos incarnate, trying to minimize the mess he made and not having much luck. Of course he fishtailed around a corner, his tail wagging so ferociously it knocked supplies off the shelf. Of course Xoti had forgotten to lock the dog door(again), and he bolted into the yard--straight for the mud puddle in the back corner. Of course she missed trying to grab him on the way back in and wound up chasing a trail of mud all through the shelter. (Thank Eothas the door between the shelter and clinic was too heavy for a year old lab to push open on his own.) She finally cornered the dog in a dead end hallway and bribed him with treats until he was close enough to collar.

“Bad dog,” she scolded, heart not fully in it despite the work ahead of her cleaning up. “You made quite the mess.”

He looked up at her, gave a whining bark, and planted muddy paws against her thigh to put him in better range for head pets.

“Sunny, down,” Charity said, gentle but firm. That was something they were trying to train out of him before he was adopted. “C’mon, you need a bath now.”

She’d swear Sunny’s ears pricked up at the word bath. This dog loved water beyond even his breed’s usual affinity for it. She could almost believe he’d gotten muddy for the express purpose of getting a bath. Charity was less thrilled at how soaked she was about to wind up, but as the one who caught the dog(and the one with no plans after work, which meant it was okay if she went home smelling like wet fur), the duty would fall to her anyway. She might as well get it over with.

It proved every bit the ordeal she was anticipating, but she did get Sunny clean. Still very much the curious puppy--even though they’d walked this hallway a dozen times and she was pretty sure there were no new smells--he pulled every which way as they walked back toward the kennels.

“We really gotta train you, or you’re gonna scare people off,” Chariy muttered, letting go of the leash with one hand to brush damp straggles of hair back toward the sad remains of her ponytail.

Of course Sunny picked that moment to hear something ‘interesting’ and veer sharply toward the door between shelter and clinic. Sharply enough to yank the leash out of her hand.

Not again! she groused to herself as she lunged after him. “Sunny! Sunny, sit!”

Sunny did not sit. Because the door opened from the clinic side and a new person walked in, and what friendly, energetic dog worth his whiskers could resist saying hello to a new friend?

And so roughly fifty pounds of still-damp yellow lab pushed off the floor and slammed into their visitor in the same moment Charity skidded to a mortified halt. Even if he looked well-built enough to take it, this was so not the impression they wanted to give people.

-o-

Edér would have been lying if he said he expected his day to include being tackled by a friendly dog. He’d also be lying to say he minded, though it did catch him off-guard.

“I’m so sorry!” a voice gasped from above and to his right--probably the woman he’d briefly glimpsed before being tackled.

“S’alright,” Edér managed around the enthusiastic tongue bath he was receiving. He brought one hand up to scratch the side of the dog’s face, which earned him a reprieve as the lab leaned into the attention with a pleased groan. “Always nice to make a new friend.”

He looked up just in time to catch her relieved smile. “Must be my lucky day.” Her ears went redder than her hair. “’Cause you’re clearly an animal lover, I mean, not for any other...” She cleared her throat, one hand tugging the end of her frazzled ponytail. “I’m gonna stop talkin’ now.”

“Actually, if you work here, I was lookin’ for some help,” Edér said, starting the reluctant process of scooting out from under the dog.

“Oh, sure,” the redhead nodded as she bent to grab the free end of the leash and started tugging the dog off him. “I’m Charity, by the way. And this fella’s Sunny, both in name and nature.”

“Fittin’,” he chuckled as he got to his feet. He held out his hand to shake. “Edér.”

Charity shook his hand, grip firmer than he expected. “And what can I help you with, Edér?”

“Pickin’ somethin’ up for a friend; antibiotics for her liz- uh, bearded dragon.” He rolled his eyes sheepishly. “She don’t like it when I call ‘im a lizard.”

Charity laughed. “Lotta people with beardies feel that way.” Her brow furrowed. “Wasn’t there someone at the clinic desk?”

Edér shook his head. “Naw. There s’pposed t’ be?”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Same person who was s’pposed to lock all the kennels and the dog door out to the yard. I’m tryin’ to give her some time, ‘cause she’s new, but if she doesn’t get a lot less flighty real quick...” She shook her head and tugged the leash. “That’s not important, though. Let’s get you taken care of, then I’ll get Sunny squared away.”

“I can wait if you wanna do that first,” he offered, slipping his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t in any particular hurry.

“No, it’s okay,” Charity said quickly. “If you’re just pickin’ something up it shouldn’t take long.” Both of them looked down as Sunny bumped his nose against Edér’s knee. “‘Sides, he likes you, if I take him away now, he’ll pout the rest of the day an’ that’s no fun.”

“Alright, then, if you don’t mind...” Edér shrugged, which made her smile. It was a good smile. He pushed open the swinging door back to the clinic. “After you.”

-o-

Charity bit back the temptation to make some corny comment about him being a gentleman and simply nodded her thanks as she headed through the doorway. She could feel a fresh wave of blush rising to color her ears--and probably the back of her neck--even so. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Maybe if he did she could pass off her embarrassment as due to Sunny’s behavior, not the number of times she’d successfully stuck her foot in her mouth in front of one of the more attractive men she’d met in her life. If the ‘lucky day’ comment wasn’t bad enough, the speed with which she’d insisted on helping Edér before she re-kenneled Sunny had done no favors.

Just as he’d said, there was no sign of Xoti behind the clinic counter, even though her shift went til four. She hadn’t even left a note this time.

Charity pushed aside the embarrassment--and grumbling thoughts toward her coworker--and flashed Edér another smile as she stepped around the counter. “So, what’re you pickin’ up?” She closed the waist-high door and slipped the leash around the handle so she had both hands free and Sunny was still semi-corralled.

“Antibiotics,” he reminded her, leaning against the counter with a crooked smile of his own.

She wanted to smack herself; he’d already told her that. “Right, right. Name?”

He cocked his head. “Would it be under the pet or the owner?”

“Owner.”

“That does make sense. Illani. Tavi Illani.”

The name rang a bell. “Oh, yeah. Dragon’s Quaro, right?” Charity asked as she started thumbing through the filled prescriptions. “She had him in a couple days ago and Doc Drake had to back order the meds.” Illani, there you are. She tugged out the small, crinkly bag and set it on the counter. “Here we go. And Dr. Drake is sorry for the delay and hopes Quaro feels better soon.”

Edér raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Technically she didn’t tell me that, but” --Charity shrugged-- “ain’t hard math to figure out she would.” She played with the patient information tag stapled to the prescription to give her hands something to do. Which worked for all of five seconds before she happened to read the address. “Wait, wait, wait. Tavi lives in Yenwood?! Don’t they have any vets down there?”

Edér laughed. “None who--to quote her--’know a solitary fuckin’ thing’ about bearded dragons.” He leaned closer and whispered almost conspiratorially “I think she’s just tryin’ to justify drivin’ an hour each way to bring him to the same vet she’s used since he was this big.” He held up his thumb and index finger three or four inches apart.

Charity giggled. “No shame in that; lotsa people try to stick with the same vet, for the sense of familiarity. ‘Specially if their pet likes that vet.” She braced her elbow against the counter and rested her chin in her hand. “”What about you? Assumin’ you also live in Yenwood, this is some favor. You two must be real good friends.”

Subtle, Char, a little voice in her head said dryly. Just ask the man if he’s single and get it over with.

“She’s one of my best,” he confirmed with another crooked smile. Sweet Eothas, it wasn’t fair. “But I was comin’ this way for work, so it ain’t that much much of an inconvenience. Speakin’ of...” He glanced at the wall clock. “I need to get goin’. Ain’t in a rush, exactly, but probably shouldn’t dawdle.”

She grinned. “Or the boss man’ll chew ya out?”

“Nah, that ain’t a risk,” Edér shook his head, still smiling. “‘Cause you’re lookin’ at him. Still wanna make a good impression an’ keep customers happy, so...” He picked up the prescription and tapped the bag against the counter. “You need anything from me?”

Your phone number. Charity just barely swallowed the wards before they tumbled out her mouth. “Uh, no, it looks like, um, Tavi prepaid for it when she had Quaro in. So we’re good.”

Sunny pawed her leg and whined.

Charity patted the dog’s head to settle him. “And let me apologize again for this goober. He’s just over-eager to meet new people.”

Edér leaned across the counter to scratch Sunny’s ears. “No harm done. Like I said, always nice to make a new friend.” He met her gaze and winked. “Or two.”

Was she blushing? She had to be blushing. “Always happy to meet a fellow animal lover.”

He laughed. “Thanks for the help, Charity.”

“You are very welcome, Edér,” she laughed back. “Have a good day.”

He nodded as he straightened. “You, too.”

Charity watched him go, tried to read the writing on the door of his truck(purely general curiosity, definitely not looking for a phone number), but he’d parked too far away. She looked down at Sunny, who met her gaze and panted happily. “Alright, your turn. Let’s get you back where you belong.”

Xoti picked that moment to get back from... wherever she’d been. At least she had the decency to wince when she saw Charity doing her job. “Sorry, Char.”

“What was it this time?” Charity asked, fixing her ponytail before she wrapped the leash around her hand to keep Sunny close.

“Door on the Ladies got stuck again,” Xoti said, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “Doc really needs t’ fix that.”

“Leave a note on her desk, I’m sure she’ll bump it up the list,” Charity said. She tugged Sunny’s leash as she swung open the half-door to head back toward the shelter side. “Hell, if it’s real bad, maybe she’ll call someone soon as she gets back.”

“Kay.” Xoti hesitated, bit her lip. “There weren’t any trouble, was there? ‘Cause I really didn’t expect that to take more’n a minute or I’da let you know.”

Charity smiled to herself as she glanced toward the paring lot--empty now, of course. “Nope. No trouble at all.”

The clock read 3:05 as she led Sunny back to his kennel. She tried to convince herself the smile she wasn’t trying all that hard to fight was relief for the non-boring two o’clock hour for once. Given that she couldn’t stop picturing blond hair and blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled, it didn’t really work.

Her lucky day, indeed.

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #charity #eder teylecg #ederity #pillars of eternity #otp: brighter than the sun #eothasian idiots

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 6 years

Text

Rate that character! (Rescue bots edition)

Disclaimer:Since my post got more than 10 likes, ill be doing a review on the bots of rescue bots! Since theres a 10 picture limit, ill be doing JUST the bots in this post. With that out of the way, lets go!

Heatwave!

Heatwave, leader of the autobots. Big red hot boy, ready to kick ass, take names, and love babies. Snarky boy who is constantly ready to throw hands at any second and will defend his family. He takes no shit, neither will his team. Cares but will only admit it via threats. Secretly very stressed.

10/10 good boy that will fuck you up with no hesitation. The kind your parents don't want you to be with, but learn to love, given time. Great in berth.

Boulder!

Engineer of the group. Smart, strong boy that likes to draw. Not to be confused with tfa Bulkhead, as this one was generally smart, while tfa Bulkhead was more proficient in groundbridge building. Likes birds, flowers, drawing, most human things. Fan of nerdy jokes and supporting his friends. Honest boy

9/10. The pedes fuck me up everytime, its like hes earing Cybertroinian crocs. Petty, but my rating system. Overall you wanna bring this one home to the folks.

Chase!

Everyones favorite cop bot. Looks like hes all about beating up bad dudes, but is such a goober. Jokes go over his helm, but he tries to be funny. Tries so hard to do good, take things too seriously. Has good intentions, follows his spark. Is so the best study buddy you can ask for. Not a creative mech, but it doesn't stop him from trying. Is so underappreciated. Most likely makes odd purchases online.

10/10. Has such good lines, and is underestimated in his kindness for others. Also bot you wanna take home to the folks.

Blades!

Possibly everyones favorite character. Ironically hates flying, but does it for the team. Can't handle stress easily, but does shit for everyone else's sake. Makes most (if not all) the media references in the series. Would rather eat ice cream and watch cupcake hoarders than go on rescues. Has self esteem issues, needs constant validation. Can be selfish, but he learns from his mistakes.

9.5/10. I love him, but the selfish moments knocks him down a pinch. Calm down baby, world isnt ending! Bring him home to your parents after hes had a few hours to panic.

Optimus Prime!

Wiser than his TFA & TFP version, this Optimus is essentially the yoda of the group. Knows best, is such a good support and role model. Has faith in his boys. Knows what hes doing, at least 98% of the time. Humble as shit. Sees the glass as half full.

9/10. Crazy hot in this version? But him kiiinda choosing to ignore Heatwave sometimes makes him come off as kinda dick ish. Kinda. If your folks are cool with you dating a silver fox, definitely bring this one home.

Blurr!

Speedster if the group. Like Smokescreen in TFP, you wanna punch him in the face first. Pretty boy that comes at you way too fast, immediate asshole impression. Fucks up a lot. Acts before thinking. Ultimately cares. Kinda fuckboy-ish, but hes sweet at some other moments. Has untapped potential. You learn to like him, even if he's kinda dense. Also a unique look for a long standing character.

9/10. Blurr's spark is in a good place, and he has had GREAT character development, but im a bit tfa Blurr biased. At least this one didn't die. Bring home to your parents if you want, but it'll take a LONG time for him to cut his bullshit. But he'll make himself worth it. Kinda selfish in some moments.

Salvage!

Big chonk. Big, burly, boy with a southern tongue. Wants to help. Will help fix stuff around your house if you call him over. Clever boy, hates throwing things away. Likes to scavenge for nicknacks. Easy to buy for. Sometimes his inventions go haywal, but he gets all the points for trying. Probably collects odd things.

10/10. Cute chunkies with accents kill me. Plus he tries so hard for his friends. Even for Blurr, who was gonna leave him to fucking die.

Quickshadow!

Spy fem! Is gorgeous. Will insult your face in the slyest way possible, then punch it after. Calm, cool, james bond in training. Clever british. Thinks she knows best, but needs support. Never thinks of a back up plan. Didn't get enough love as she should've. Is cool and knows it

9/10. Id do 10/10 if i got to know her a bit more. Take her home to the folks, just be weary. She might boast about herself, under the impression shes being factual. Be supportive, and she'll return the favor.

Servo!

Goodest boy. Beep beep beep. Is handy, eager to help. Cutest boy on the team. Multitool all wrapped in a good boy bundle. Give him pets and love him. Will love you forever. Pls dont scold him.

10/10. Goodest boy. Robo dogs so pure

Hightide!

Commander of the seas!(and my heart). Old, irish (or scottish. Or maybe im stupid) bastard. Is great with kids, probably has some of his own. Gives shit when hes trying to make you better. Will tease you. Is down to party, often doesnt think of his affects on others. Firm handed. Will accidentally make you feel like shit, but is quick to try again in his mistakes. Sexy as hell.

10/10. Im weak for older, burly bots who talk to me like he would. Wish he had more attention.

#transformers #rescue bots #ill do the humans another time #love each one.

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theeeveetamer · 6 years

Note

(Same person that wrote the neko thing) honestly, I don’t care, im ok with anything you want to include.

Honestly y’all just need to put me down now because I had too much fun writing this. Ended up a lot kinkier than I’d intended though.

Tags: Neko, Neko Takumi, Human Leo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Omega Takumi, Alpha Leo, Slave Trade, Slave Auction, Collars, Rope Bondage, Humiliation, Master/Pet, Mentioned Bestiality (Kind of, it’s a weird headcanon okay), Gags, Leo is a Good Guy

Warnings: Non-Con-y elements. Please read the tags.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17865764

The room was dark but for one dim light on the stage. All manner of Alphas were roaming about the small, dark room. A few of them chatted, but most of them remained silent and watched, just like him.

He hated these things. He hated the darkness, he hated the cramped spaces, and he hated the oppressing stink of Alpha pheromones that permeated the walls long after it was over… But Niles had given him a heads up that something special was happening this time, and Leo was nothing if not morbidly curious.

Someone lit the remaining torches on the stage, illuminating the makeshift wooden boards and bringing the entire scene into sharp relief. He had to allow his eyes a moment to adjust.

It wasn’t a very wide room, only fitting about six men abreast, but it was long. Perfect for the purpose it usually served. One end contained a raised platform, hastily constructed with rough planks of wood, and a door leading to an adjacent room. There were no windows: This was the dungeons, after all, and the ceiling was low. Not low enough that he needed to duck, but if he reached his arm up he could comfortably touch the ceiling with the full palm on his hand. A metal hook was bolted to the stone ceiling on the stage, and a block of wood sat off to the side, just in case it was needed. Perfectly suited for the kind of auctions they held.

In reality the room could hold double the number of men. There were only about a dozen currently there, but he’d been told it was a high-roller night only. The best of stock for the richest of men. His retainer was among them, keeping a watchful eye out just in case things turned sour and they needed to make an escape.

He was starting to get antsy. He had a hot bath and a good book waiting for him upstairs in his room once his curiosity had been sated, and he would much rather be doing that right now.

The auctioneer finally put their waiting to an end after several agonizing minutes of staring up at an empty stage. He stepped out into the open, tugging something along by a leash behind him. Leo immediately saw what Niles had meant by ‘special’.

The man -- or boy, he wouldn’t put it past their soldiers to kidnap a child -- was not only Hoshidan, but a neko. And an incredibly beautiful one at that. His long silver hair was pulled back into a loose bun, but Leo could tell that it would be down past his back if it were loose. His fluffy ears of the same color were almost invisible, pushed flat against his head and his tail was busy and down between his legs.

Nekos didn’t usually wear collars, so he could only guess that the bright red one around his neck with the humiliating bell was an addition of the auctioneer’s. They’d also tied his calves to his thighs, so he was forced to crawl slowly on his hands and knees behind the man tugging his leash. A ring gag was also set firmly behind his teeth to keep his jaw wide.

“What did I tell you, milord?”

He was captivated by what was taking place on the stage, though mildly annoyed that Niles hadn’t just told him what was going to happen when he’d apparently known.

The pair stopped in the middle of the stage, and the auctioneer commanded the Omega to sit with a gesture of his hand. He stroked the top of his head fondly before his voice boomed out over the room.

“What do you think? Won’t he make a fantastic pet?”

The hoots and hollers of his fellow Alphas were deafening, but Leo remained silent. How barbaric. His father’s obsession with punishing Hoshido was going a step too far; To kidnap and sell off Omegas to the highest bidder was nothing short of monstrous.

“I think I’ve seen enough.” He muttered back to his retainer, though he wasn’t sure if Niles heard over the din.

He was about to turn and leave when he locked eyes with the poor man on the stage. He was wide-eyed and terrified, tears streaming down his cheeks as he was forced to suffer such humiliation. The sounds of the other Alphas were still roaring in his ears, but it was like his world stood still when he met those desperate amber eyes.

Damn it…

He couldn’t let him suffer like this. Who knew what these men would do to him if they got their hands on him? He was as exotic as exotic could come; He’d probably be dragged around to parties and passed around until he died of the humiliation. Or until his owner got bored of him and sent him off to be bred by the dogs. Despite being closer in stature to cats, nekos were rumored to make competent breeding partners for most species; Though he wasn’t sure if that was true or just a rumor. Nohrians didn’t come into contact with them very often.

He anxiously waited for the bidding to begin, but it seemed the auctioneer wasn’t done showing him off yet. It made sense, he wanted the Alphas in the room antsy and bothered, so they would run up the price. The man made a circular motion with his hand, and the neko clumsily turned himself around so his back was to the audience.

“Don’t worry, he’s fully trained, see?”

Then he snapped his fingers, and the boy dropped onto his forearms, ass in the air. Though he was still maintaining some modicum of modesty because his tail was still pressed between his legs.

“Don’t be shy, kitten. Everyone here wants to see you!”

The auctioneer grabbed him roughly by the tail and yanked it up, so he was fully exposed to the crowd. The Omega made a noise for the first time -- a strangled yelp muffled by his gag. His thighs were actually wet with slick, and his stiff cock hung down between his legs. This caused a stir in the room -- If Leo hadn’t known better he would have said the poor boy was just begging to be fucked. Most of the Alphas probably knew better actually, but the fantasy was powerful. A completely obedient pet at their beck and call, ready to be fucked at any time, through any humiliation?

If they weren’t ready to spend big money before, they certainly were now.

“We’ll start at 100,000 gold.”

The auctioneer didn’t let go of his tail, and really it seemed like he’d completely forgotten he was holding it. Leo guessed it was pretty painful, since as the bids climbed higher and higher the poor Omega was forced into more humiliating positions just to keep the pressure off. His face was flat on the ground, nails clawing at the splintered wood and back arched to alleviate the tension. This only had the effect of driving the bidding as he wriggled and squirmed.

Leo decided to bide his time. He knew with the weight of the imperial treasury at his back he could easily outbid any of these minor nobles, but he didn’t want to spend more than he needed. The numbers quickly climbed past the million mark, and then two, and then five… And Leo realized that this could go on all night.

He finally raised his card and answered with a firm “Ten million.”

The auctioneer finally dropped the neko’s tail, and the boy went back to hiding himself with it. The room fell completely silent, and he realized for the first time that he was nervously purring.

A few of the nobles turned to look at him, but he didn’t even spare a glance. Instead he crossed his arms over his chest and glared resolutely at the stage, as if to say challenge my bid. I dare you.

But no one did. He was sure some of the nobility had the gold for it, but even something as rare as a neko wasn’t worth that much of their money. Not when they knew he could easily double whatever offer they made.

“Sold!”

Leo dismissed is retainer and roughly dragged the neko by the leash back into the room where the slaves were held before auction. It was empty, confirming his suspicion that this neko was their only prize tonight. Money exchanged hands, and the auctioneer left them alone to their own devices.

As soon as he was gone Leo slipped a dagger out of its hiding place in his sleeve and cut the ropes, the gag, and the ridiculous collar off.

The Omega worked his jaw for a moment before speaking.

“T-Thank you sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I own you now, I could do anything to you that I pleased.”

He looked up at him curiously for a moment, big amber eyes shining in the dim torchlight. He looked so placid despite his tear stained cheeks and flushed face.

“But you won’t.”

“Oh? And how do you know that?”

He was right. Leo would never stoop so low, but the Omega didn’t know that. They’d never met before, never spoken. The only interaction they’d had was that one brief look before the bidding started.

“You were the only one that didn’t jeer at me. So thank you for rescuing me.”

“I… Of course.”

There was something so innocent in the way he gazed up at him, nothing but pure, unadulterated trust in his eyes. His tail swished lazily back and forth, straight up in the air this time.

“Can you walk?”

“Mmm… No, I don’t think so. They had my legs tied like that for a long time.”

He bent down and picked the smaller man up in his arms. He was much lighter than expected, and Leo had no problems carrying him up the several flights of stairs from the dungeons to the royal wing.

He’d be a dead man if his father found out he’d spent so much money on a slave… But that was the least of his worries. Right now he was focused on making sure the man in his arms was safe and comfortable.

He managed to sneak the neko into his room with little issue, and once they were there he grabbed one of his nightshirts from the dresser and handed it to him.

The neko took it gingerly, running his fingers over the soft silk curiously before he happily pulled it on over his head. Leo was quite a bit taller than him, so the shirt came down to his mid-thigh.

“Thank you, master!”

“D-Don’t call me that, okay?” He was relieved that the Omega was finally covered up. As vile as he found this entire affair, even he wasn’t immune to the effects of a pretty Omega.

He cocked his head to the side, ears perked up curiously. “What do I call you then?”

“You can just call me Leo.”

“Leo?”

“Yes, that is my name after all.”

The neko smiled broadly back at him.

“Wow! Master is very kind!”

He almost corrected him, but he supposed it would take some getting used to. He had no idea how long this Omega had been in captivity for, he might simply be used to referring to everyone in such a way. By the sound if it that was the case. His heart ached for the Hoshidan before him.

“What about you? What should I call you?”

“Oh! I’m sorry Master Leo... My name is Takumi.”

#Leokumi #Leo #Takumi #Omegaverse #Neko #Neko Takumi #Human Leo #Omega Takumi #Alpha Leo #Not kid friendly #or life friendly really #Anonymous

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drferox · 6 years

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Hello there! I was wondering if you have any general advice for pet groomers? Im going on 7 years as a dog groomer and am always trying to learn. Ill be starting to train for grooming cats soon. Love your blog and your insight

Pet groomers are in a weird position, because there’s a small but noticeable group of people that may take their dog in to be groomed every 6 weeks, yet wont come to the vet for years at a time. This subset of the population, for some reason, seem to decide that groomers at least as good if not better than vets when it comes to medical and behavioral reasons, and a very firm, persistent ‘go to the vet’ is sorely needed. Sometimes it works best if you can say ‘go to this specific vet that I recommend’ because it adds some legitimacy to the statement somehow.

It’s a weird disconnect where people seem to think groomers would know a lot about dogs because they work with them all day, but somehow vets don’t. I don’t have to understand it though, I just need the animals to come to the clinic when there’s a problem.

A groomer is certainly in a position to say ‘something is wrong’ but they’re not in a position to make a diagnosis and certainly can’t perform surgery or provide a prescription. But within those abilities I’ve had groomers ‘refer’ patients to me that ended up having:

Infectious skin conditions

Immune mediated skin conditions

Ear infections

Dental disease

Skin cancer

Diabetes (noticed weight loss and thirst)

An abdominal mass (noticed abdomen was asymmetrical)

All of these conditions the owner either just didn’t notice or didn’t think were important until a groomer told them to go to the vet.

I don’t know if you were actually after grooming tips, because the only two haircuts for pets I can do are ‘practically bald’ and ‘literally bald’.

You wouldn’t go to a doctor for a haircut, and we should be emphasizing to people that they don’t go to a hairdresser for medical treatment.

#veterinarian #vetblr #grooming #groomer #stellar-heptade

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equalstrashflavoredtrash · 7 years

Text

A Foreign Tongue

a/n: There isnt enough Hvitserk fluff out there, imo. so im doing what i cant to right this wrong

@ariwolff14 @titty-teetee @peaky-yamyam @whenimaunicorn [[if you want to be tagged for vikings stuff in the future, leave a reply]]

warnings: mostly fluff, some suggestive talk

Hvitserk X OFC // Vikings // one-shot

word count: 1,681

The small woman huffed as she paused kneading the dough to wipe at the sweat on her brow with the back of her hand, leaving behind a streak of flour before returning to folding and punching the stick lump. She dropped the ball of uncooked bread into the wooden bowl, covering it with a piece of cloth before turning to the water bucket to wet her hands. She used the hem of her apron to dry her fists, pulling off the last strings of dough that stuck to her knuckles before leaning against the counter. That was the last loaf to set. Once it and the few others finished rising it would be time to bake. There was a big feast tonight to celebrate the men leaving to raid in the morning.

It wasn’t long after being sold into King Ragnar’s house that her talents for cooking were recognized. The oldest of the slaves, and mother hen to all the younger girls, who was named Aug promptly put her to the task of preparing meals. This became her main duties in the house, which she didn't mind. She enjoyed staying in the kitchen, never having to interact directly with any of the masters beside Queen Aslaug, who occasionally stopped into make sure the food was being done correctly.

That was until one evening when a younger thrall named Britt hurried in, searching for her. She was busy but the girl stated one of the Ragnarssons had asked for her specifically. She dropped the knife she was holding, as she felt an icy grip around her insides. She panicked, instantly worrying which of the four young men found it necessary to speak with her, and why. She heard the rumors about each of them and she feared that it was the youngest, Ivar who beckoned her fretting that he would have nothing good to say.

Following the the head of fine, blond hair bobbing through the crowded hall, the cook was lead to the main table. Never having been formally introduced to any of Ragnar’s sons, she only vaguely recognized each of them by reputation and breathed a sigh of relief as she was lead past the dark-haired boy at the end of the table, stopping instead by the second oldest brother.

The long braids of his light-brown hair shifted on his shoulder as he twisted his head to watch the two of them approach. A smile settled on his lips while he leaned back in his seat, swallowing the last of the food in his mouth. Holding a hand out, he urged the cook forward, brushing his fingers against her elbow as he spoke quickly, in a jovial tone.

The slave just stared at him blankly before looking to Britt who gave her a loose translation of his praise for her cooking. She blushed looking back to him and bowing her head before stuttering out one of the only words she knew of his language, “Takk.”

Ubbe and Sigurd finally let go and burst out laughing at their brother’s big, puppy-dog eyes as he watched the girl nearly run back to the kitchen. Neither were surprised he’d set his sights on the plump slave who seemed to always be covered in flour.

“How can you woo her, if she can’t even understand you?” Sigurd teased once Hvitserk returned to his food.

Language barriers did not stop the prince. He began to regularly pop into the kitchen for food, rather than sending a slave to fetch him something. Once there, he’d find a reason to hang around, watching her work. He would talk, telling her about his day or his father. At first she was flustered by his presence but she enjoyed the company, and calming cadence of his voice though she couldn’t fully comprehend what he said.

Due to the fact of her immersion added with Hvitserk’s constant babbling, she slowly found herself leaning his tongue. At night she practiced with Britt, but still kept mute around Hvitserk out of embarrassment at her novice skills of communication.

Finally one day, he was rambling about his youngest sibling’s antics on the training field when she asked him, “Why is Ivar cruel?” He stopped in the middle of tearing off a piece of bread from the roll in his grasp to stare at her blankly, surprised by the sound of her voice.

A smile pulled at his cheeks when he shrugged, “Because Ivar is Ivar. He has always been this way.”

Once Hvitserk knew she could respond their conversations were decidedly less one sided. She would respond to what she could and he did his best to help her understand when she was confused. Hvitserk also grew decidedly more flirtatious. Before, he had made flippant provocative comments off the cuff, knowing they’d go over her head. She’d still catch the way he’d watch her when she was bent over the hearth, checking on the bubbling broth.

Now he’d do whatever he could to make her blush. He loved the way she’d yelp in surprise when he’d sneak up while her back was turned, wrapping his fingers around her hips. “That smells delicious,” he would comment in a low voice, his lips next her her ear as he took in the sent of her hair rather than the food she was preparing.

He was drunk the first time he backed her into a corner. His wisps of facial hair tickled at her sensitive skin while he kissed her neck, pulling giggles from her lips as her petite hands came to rest on his chest. Everything about her was soft and warm under his touch. He pulled her against himself, guiding his knee between her thighs before finally bringing his lips to hers. Hvitserk moaned as she molded her lips with his, eagerly welcoming him into her.

“What is going on?” Aug shouted, interrupting the pair.

Both were panting as Hvitserk straightened and looked over his shoulder. “We were just talking.” He tried the excuse but it was obvious that Aug wasn’t buying it. She glared at him in a way that said everything; he needed to leave the kitchen promptly and let the girl return to her duties.

Leaving the bread to rise undisturbed, the cook sighed as she sat on the short three-legged stool, leaning her head back to rest against the wall. She let her eyes shut while keeping time in her mind so the dough wouldn’t sit for too long.

“There you are,” a familiar voice spoke. She cracked open her eyelid and tried not to smile when she spotted Hvitserk in the doorway.

“I am always here,” she stated, furrowing her brow as she rose to meet him, slightly confused by what he meant. His arms quickly found their way, snaking around her torso, pulling her in tight.

“Mm, yes that is why this is my favorite place to be,” he hummed as his kissed along her cheek before capturing her mouth with his. She grew bashful with his praise, looking away as she blushed and gnawed on her lip. He nipped at the corner of her jaw, just below her ear, while his hands began to roam. The left left settled on her ass, cupping the cheek with the broad expanse of his fingers while the other tugged at the back of her thigh, drawing it up to line with his waist. “Right here between your knees,” he mumbled between kisses as he took a breath. She smoothed her palms across his firm torso before tangling her fingers into the hair on the back of his scalp, bring his face back to hers.

Hvitserk pulled at her bottom lip before pausing to rest his forehead against hers. He took a deep breath through his nose, keeping his eyes screwed shut before he spoke. “I want you in my bed so badly. I want to feel you naked underneath me, calling my name as I make you come.”

She let out a small squeak in response, shocked by the bit she could comprehend. Hvitserk pulled back in surprise for a moment, gazing down at her blushing cheeks. “Don’t you want me?” he asked, misreading her expression.

“No, I do,” she quickly replied, cupping his cheeks. “But I cannot.”

“I’m a son of Ragnar and a prince of Kattegat, I can have whatever I wish, and no one can say different. Even if it’s you that I want.” He smirked as he pulled her closer, squeezing her bottom before continuing, “And Aug is busy in the main hall, I checked. She won’t be bothering us.”

The cook was already well aware of Aug’s tasks for the day, she knew they would not be disturbed. She said nothing, instead gnawing on her lip in annoyance that he was missing what she meant, upset with her own inability to clearly communicate. “I cannot...” she blushed, looking away before finally admitting. “I cannot say your name.”

“Really?” With a gentle finger on her chin, Hvitserk guided her to look back at him, “It’s not hard, just try.” He repeated the syllables slowly for her to repeat, drawing each sound out in example.

“Havetsick,” she repeated him, giving her best attempt to mimic the sounds. He bit his inner cheek to keep from laughing but she could see the humorous glint in his eye. With a scoff she pushed against his chest, trying to wiggle her way out of his arms. “Is it so funny? The way I speak? Britt, she laughs at me, too.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he quickly countered, holding her shoulders so she remained against him, leaning into his chest as he lifted one palm to pet at her hair. “I love the way you talk, I think it’s adorable. I’m always excited to hear your voice.”

“You mean this, truly?” she questioned in a breathy voice. He arched his head forward, rubbing their noses briefly before gently pressing a kiss to her lips. Hvitserk could feel the moment she conceded, smiling as she let go and melted into him.

#hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #vikings #vikings history channel #one shot #my writing #all fluff

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bloojayoolie · 5 years

Photo

Being Alone, Animals, and Apparently: Big hearted "Barbie Happy-go lucky social Sweetheart. Cuddly, playful & totally endearing! ID 58945, 4 YRS. 58 LBS. OF JOY SPAYED MANHATTAN ACC TO BE KILLED – 8/24/2019 Social, sunny, and incredibly sweet, Barbie is a wiggly bundle of love who has a big smile and a wagging tail for everyone she meets. Yes, she give you the welcome “bark” because she is full of enthusiasm, but we forgive her because in her face is nothing but joy and happiness at the opportunity to make a new friend. She was adopted in April but sadly she was returned in August, and simply because it was a poor adoption – she was not in the hands of the experienced foster or adopter that she needed. She’s so eager to please and eager to learn, and has a heart of pure gold. As a volunteer writes: “She's a Barbie girl in a barbie world! And she thinks life is fantastic! This happy go lucky pup just enjoys the company of her human peers. She enjoys a fun game a fetch and then sitting and leaning in closely next to her friends, a lovable pup she sure is. Barbie is the kind of dog to make you smile ear to ear, she is the dog I go to when I need some extra sunshine. I enjoy her bounces and hops when shes playing out in the yard. Barbie can bit talkative as well, she will let you know when she wants you to throw her ball, pet her and treat her all by letting out some "woofs!". A not so great habit she has but I can help but admit how endearing it can be.... We love everything about Barbie and think you will too once you meet this sweet little peach! Share big hearted Barbie far and wide for her perfect family.” If you can foster or adopt her yourself, just MESSAGE our page or email us at [email protected] for assistance. BARBIE, ID# 58945, 4 Yrs. old, 58.2 lbs., Spayed Female Manhattan ACC, Large Mixed Breed, White / Brown I came to the shelter as an Agency, 8/8/2019 Shelter Assessment Rating: New Hope Rescue Only Medical Behavior Rating: 2. Blue AT RISK MEMO: Barbie is at risk for behavioral reasons. Barbie has a bite history and has displayed dog reactivity with the potential to redirect onto people. Barbie would be best suited for placement with a new hope partner that can provide the necessary behavior modification. Medically, Barbie seems healthy. INTAKE NOTE – DATE OF INTAKE, 4/2/2019: Barbie hard barked in the lobby but looked to have a loose body. While barking, Barbie wagged her tail and allowed for counselors to approch her and walk her on the leash. Barbie was handled by her owner to be placed into a kennel. OWNER SURRENDER NOTES – BASIC INFORMATION: Barbie is an unaltered female large mixed breed, estimated to be 3 years old. Barbie was surrendered due to her food aggression and aggressive behaviors. Barbie lived with an adult, 3 children and 1 large dog. Barbie will bark at strangers. She is playful with the 7, 12 and 16 year old children in the home. Barbie lives with a unaltered male estimated to be 9 years old that she consistently fights with. Fights usually occurs during feeding and sometimes it escalates when they play. There were no cats in her previous home so Barbie’s behavior around cats is unknown. Barbie will bark, growl, and may bite when a stranger or owner tries to touch the food while eating. Barbie is housetrained and has a medium energy level. Other Notes: Barbie will not stay still during baths and does not enjoy being groomed. She has never had a medical issue, and has no known medical concerns. For a New Family to Know: Barbie is kept indoors and enjoys sleeping anywhere in the home. Barbie was fed dog food and house food 3-4 times a day. Barbie enjoys all types of toys and rips the furniture. Barbie enjoys using the bathroom in the owners back yard and was not taken out for walks. Bite history:: Yes, Barbie has gotten into several fights with the other dog in the home and they have bitten each other. The most recent fight occurred when the owner was preparing for the dogs. Barbie bit the other dog and her owner when the owner was attempting to break up the fight. The bite to the owner resulted in broken skin on her leg. Barbie bit her owner on the left arm, breaking skin. The circumstances of this bite are not known. Barbie bit the neighbor's dog. The circumstances and severity of this bite are not known. SHELTER ASSESSMENT SUMMARIES – DATE OF ASSESSMENT: 4/10/2019 Leash Walking Strength and pulling: Moderate Reactivity to humans: None Reactivity to dogs: Moderate Leash walking comments: Barks at dogs with soft body Sociability Loose in room (15-20 seconds): Highly social Call over: Approaches readily Sociability comments: Body soft, stays by assessor, jumps up when approaches Handling Soft handling: Seeks contact Exuberant handling: Seeks contact Comments: Body soft, leans into pets Arousal Jog: Engages in play (loose) Arousal comments: None Knock: Approaches (loose) Knock Comments: None Toy: No response Toy comments: None INTAKE BEHAVIOR - Date of intake:: 4/2/2019 Summary:: Loose body, barking ENERGY LEVEL:: Barbie is described as having a medium level of activity. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: New Hope Only Behavior Asilomar: TM - Treatable-Manageable Recommendations:: No children (under 13),Place with a New Hope partner Recommendations comments:: No children: Due to resource guarding displayed in her previous home (growling and snapping when her food is touched), and her bite history, we recommend an adult only home. Place with a New Hope partner: Due to having bitten the other dog in the home multiple times and potentially redirecting towards people, as well as biting her owner under unknown circumstances, we recommend she be placed with a New Hope placement partner who is able to provide an experienced adult-only foster home. A period of decompression is recommended to allow Barbie to acclimate comfortably to her new environment; force-free, reward based training only is advised when introducing Barbie to new and unfamiliar situations. Consultation with a professional trainer/behaviorist is highly recommended for guidance to safely manage/modify any behavior Barbie presents with outside of the care centers. Potential challenges: : Resource guarding,Multiple-bite history/risk of future aggression,On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration,Bite history (human),Bite history (dog) Potential challenges comments:: Resource guarding: Babrie is reported to growl and snap if her food is touched. She should always be left alone while eating. Please see handout on Resource Guarding. Multiple-bite history/risk of future aggression: Barbie has bitten multiple times in her previous home, having gotten into multiple fights with the other dog in the home and having bitten the owner when the owner was breaking up the fight. She has also bitten the neighbor's dog and her owner under unknown circumstances. Barbie should live in a home without other animals. These bite have broken skin. Please see handout on Bite History. On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration: Barbie has been observed to react to other dogs on leash, barking at them. Please see handout on On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration. MEDICAL NOTES 4/3/2019 DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: 2-3 YEARS based on condition of teeth Microchip noted on Intake?no Microchip Number (If Applicable): History : Owner surrender; did not get along with the other dog in the household Subjective: tense body; eyeing the handler Observed Behavior - sedated for physical exam Evidence of Cruelty seen - no Evidence of Trauma seen - no Objective sedation- butorph.- 1 ml and dexdorm.- 0.9ml IM P = 40 R = 30 BCS 6/9 EENT: Eyes= left scleral bruising dorsal aspect of orbit; ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted; multifocal crusts and scars on face Oral Exam: mild staining and tartar PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: FS based on the absence of an OHE scar MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation sedated Assessment apparently healthy scars on face-- old wounds Prognosis: good Plan: sedate for examination intake procedures SURGERY: Okay for surgery after DOH Hold 4/7/2019 Requesting Trazadone Treatment for 58.1 lb dog Trazadone- 100mg SIG:1 1/4 tab po q 12 hrs 4/13/2019 ACS reported bloody stool. She took a picture and there was some firm stool followed by diarrhea with a significant amount of frank blood noted. No vomiting noted. Eating well today but yesterday low appetite. BAR in kennel, barking No v/d in run No c/s, nasal or ocular discharge noted She appears to have good energy A:Hematochezia Hx of fracture tooth P: -Start Fortiflora 1 packet in food SID x 5 days -Start metronidazole 500 mg PO BID x 5 days -Good prognosis 4/23/2019 Subjective barking and jumping at front of kennel - performed visual examination due to orange-red behavior Objective R = 20 BCS = 5/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted PLN: No enlargements noted U/G: intact MSI: Ambulatory x 4, CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Rectal: externally normal Assessment - healthy SURGERY: Okay for surgery 4/23/2019 Routine OVH: Ventral midline incision approach; each ovarian pedicle ligated with two modified Miller’s knot using 0-0 PDS II and excised distal to ligature; uterine body ligated with two modified-Miller's knot and simple encircling ligature using 0-0 PDS II and excised distal to ligatures; body wall closed with simple cont. pattern using 0 PDS II; subcutaneous/intradermal layers closed with continuous pattern using 0-0 PDS II; green-ink tattoo placed lateral to spay incision; surgical glue applied to skin incision and over tattoo site to assist with closure 8/12/2019 DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: ~4.5yrs based on hx. Microchip noted on Intake? scanned positive. History: O surrender. P bit o and drew blood, also bit another dog. Subjective / Observed Behavior - Hard barking at kennel front. Evidence of Cruelty seen - none Evidence of Trauma seen - crusts and old scarring along the right lateral face. Objective BCS 6/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: did not evaluate due to behavior. PLN: No enlargements noted ABD: WNL U/G: spayed female. MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat. multifocal crusting along the right lateral face, scars along the right lateral face and ventral neck. wounds appear to be ~10-14 days in age. CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities. P is not showing any sign of rabies infection at this time. Rectal: externally normal. Assessment multifocal crusting and scars on face overweight Prognosis: good Plan: observe DOH hold SURGERY: spayed *** TO FOSTER OR ADOPT *** BARBIE IS RESCUE ONLY. You must fill out applications with New Hope Rescues to foster or adopt her. She cannot be reserved online at the ACC ARL, nor can she be direct adopted at the shelter. PLEASE HURRY AND MESSAGE OUR PAGE FOR ASSISTANCE!

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Being Alone #Animals

0 notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Note

Oooooh I am very much looking forward to seeing this B and Demetri and Connor dynamic!

“Hey Manning, I almost thought you wouldn’t show… Oh you brought the dog.”

An eye roll but the handler kept his smile in place.

“He still looks like a handful, he’d eat this little one alive.” A gentle tug and Demetri moved obediently to stand in front of the handler with his head still bowed.

Connor turned, keeping one arm tightly around B.

"Yeah, he goes everywhere I go, now. You think I want to be in that hotel bed by myself? Show me the stray."

When Demetri moved out in front, Connor blinked with no particular memory sparking. He'd seen a lot of pets come through before he quit. "Oh, okay. This is him? He's pretty."

When B saw who was waiting from them he couldn't have been happier to be there. "Demetri!" He gasped, wiggling out of Connor's tight grip on him to rush forward and slam his hands on the desk. His eyes tracked the hands on his dear friends' back and he growled and curled his top lip to bare his silver canines. "Let 'im go... Right now."

The handler recoiled and unconsciously yanked Demetri back with him, startling the blond into looking up.

There was a vague recognition of the name that felt almost like his own but drifted too far out of reach to grasp. He stayed pressed to the handler for a long moment before a faint smile cracked through his panicked expression.

He could hardly believe his luck of who had come to save him.

He could never forget B’s face, the only kind face he had known for years and had been grieving the loss of for too long.

After a moment of stunned but elated staring he squirmed away from the handler, no longer needing the man’s reassurance.

Demetri skirted round the desk and launched himself at B with all the strength he could muster, clinging on to the familiar source of comfort without concern for the other two men watching the display. He hissed through his teeth when he bumped the sliced up brand against B but still refused to let go. He was terrified if he let go it wouldn’t be real anymore. He would still be on the street lost and afraid.

Connor stared blankly at B as he ran forward.

He barely had time to open his mouth to order him to drop the aggression before the hot little blond had jumped forwards too, and the two pets were holding each other. "What the fuck...?" He blinked rapidly, then looked at the other handler and gave a shrug.

"Hey." He gave a quick, low whistle to get B's attention. "You know 'im, baby?"

B couldn't believe it, sure that he was dreaming and he'd be woken up by a soft touch on his shoulder and be back in the truck again. "I... How?"

His words stuck in his throat, his chest swelling with light as he caught the boy flinging himself onto him. He held him tightly, rocking him from side to side like he used to do and tucking Demetri's head under his chin.

At the sound of the whistle B looked up, eyes glossy and a smile splitting across his face. "Yes! Yes, sir! This... This is Demetri... He was... He was Mister Rossi's pet..." He said, feeling the tension in the other and the pained hiss.

"W-Wait... You're hurt..." He murmured, gently pulling him back to look at Demetri's chest. "Oh..." He noticed the blood staining through his shirt. "Oh ... isn't that... Hey... Dem-... Pretty? You alrigh', lad?"

The handler behind the desk couldn’t keep his jaw from dropping, everyone had heard rumours that Rossi’s pet had been run through the system but of course his links to WRU were very hushed up.

“Fuck.. that’s Rossi’s pet? Shit, we probably need to let someone know, who was his primary? They’ll know how to reach him.”

Demetri let all of the distress from the moment Rossi had dropped him on the street drain out of his body. B was safe, B could protect him. He glanced at the man who had whistled, the dark hair and eyes were disturbingly similar to Rossi but this one seemed less of a threat.

There wasn’t a response until B used the correct name and Demetri glanced down at the spotting on the pale grey shirt, staining the fabric. He tugged the neckline down and exposed the damaged brand, it was bleeding a little from slamming into B with such eagerness but was obviously deliberately done. “It’s... it’s fine... I was good, I didn’t move I swear.”

"Oh, Jesus fuck, not those assholes," Connor muttered, feeling a drop in his stomach. B was so excited, he'd be heartbroken when Rossi showed back up to take his pet back-

Then Demetri pulled back enough to pull down the neckline of his shirt and Connor's eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. He held up a hand. "Gonna guess you don't need to call Rossi," He said to the other handler, moving closer to take a better look, leaning over with one hand on B's back, casually possessive. "Look at that. That's not amateur work and it wasn't done mad. Bet you fifty bucks Rossi did that himself."

B blinked, struck by the horror of what had happened to his friend. And fury at Rossi. He had never been good to him unless it had served him a purpose. And he used him and hurt him.

Demetri had been changed by this place as much as he was. Because of him.

"It was him..." B said lowly, leaning instinctively into the touch on his back and looking at Connor. "He ... He hurt him. He can't go back to him, sir." B's voice cracked slightly, trembling slightly as he carefully angled Demetri so he could hold him without pushing into the wound. "Please... Connor. He needs to come home with us."

Demetri laid his head on B’s shoulder, offering up a smile to the man who was now close to them. If B trusted him then this man, whose face Demetri was still trying to place, he would have blind allegiance without question from Demetri.

The handler had shifted around the desk to get a better look, a small piece of scarring was untouched, the only suggestion there had been a brand under all the slices. “Shit, they’re always so much harder to sell on with this kind of damage. I’ll have to see if anyone has space for a refurb this week before he gets a fucking infection..”

Even with the dog cradling the blond so possessively, the handler never expected that Connor would want to take on more damaged goods.

Connor had a reputation for how he dealt with pets, he couldn’t possibly want this emotionally fragile little wisp of a pet.

Demetri lifted his hand and gently traced over B’s chest, the firm planes of muscle just as he remembered them. Capable of so much damage while only ever trying to protect him. His voice was a low wistful murmur. “I missed you B... I wanted you to come home.”

Connor frowned, watching the two pets together. B was always gentle as a lamb with other pets, whether it was Socks or when he was in the Facility training. And B so rarely asked for a single thing for himself - he just took what Connor gave him with gratitude and adoration.

But he was asking for this.

Connor moved forward, taking Demetri's chin in his thumb and fingers to tilt it up and look at him, at his eyes.

"Baby," He said to B while looking Demetri over, "Baby, I am not a halfway house for stray pets. I can't just bring home every pretty thing that catches your eye..."

B kept his arms tightly wrapped around Demetri, allowing him to touch his chest. His own brand still stung from time to time. But Connor had transformed it. And he hadn't cast him aside when he did.

"Missed you too... I missed you so much... I'm sorry..." He rumbled, burying his face into Demetri's hair. He swallowed the lump in his throat, loosening his grip slightly to allow his owner to look over Demetri.

He crushed down the urge to smack Connor's hands off him. Connor was kind. Connor wouldn't hurt him.

"He's... He's not just Pretty..." B murmured. "He's Demetri... He's my ... my friend... I... I love him very much, sir. He needs to be with us... He can be good for you too. He's very good."

Demetri tipped his head with the slightest pressure from Connor, turning his face until he met the man’s dark eyes. There was no hiding his enjoyment at even the barest of contact, the gentleness was what he craved.

The handler scoffed from a few feet away, he was still wary of the dog. He had heard about the state of the rookies after a tangle with it and now it had something to guard. But Manning had a point, surely here wasn’t going to let his dog tell him what to do.

“You’re not running a charity Manning, don’t want people to talk. The boy’s got Romantic training, the clinic can clean up the wounds and he’ll be on his knees for some cheapskate client in a week or two. He is very pretty..”

Demetri couldn’t hide the fear that shone in his eyes, he was supposed to be for Rossi. He should go back to Rossi... but they were talking like Rossi didn’t want him... like he wasn’t good enough.

He prayed he could stay with B, not daring to want it yet, he could at least understand Connor was in control. Teeth caught his lower lip, his head tipped to the most attractive angle as he all but batted his eyelashes up at Connor. Classic Romantic look, perfected to be irresistible, combined with the low needy whine, most people caved and gave him some attention at that point.

Connor bristled a little at B pushing him in front of the other handler. While technically he wasn't one anymore, he still sure as fuck didn't like the idea of someone looking down on him for being pet-whipped.

Some owners got that way, spoiling the shit out of their pets and treating them like real people, and Connor had mocked plenty of those in his time. He definitely didn't want to invite the same mockery from the other handler.

"Baby, I think I decide what we need in my house, yeah?" His voice was still mostly gentle, but there was an edge of irritation, a warning there. He'd never really hurt B beyond the bedroom - and they did plenty of that, which was perfect and B did so well - but a couple of days barred from petting Socks or the barn cats usually did the trick for discipline.

He watched Demetri tilt his head just the right way, blinking at him. "Yeah, he was definitely one of ours. Rossi's pet..." His voice trailed, off, turning Demetri's head to the side, catching faint scarring along his jaw. "Wait, didn't I fuck you once?"

B swallowed thickly, chest tightening at the edge to Connor's voice. He bowed his head hastily. "Yessir... M'sorry, sir... I'm... I just... I thought we could..." He mumbled, heat spreading across his cheeks.

He had forgotten his place. He wasn't allowed to want things. That wasn't his place at all.

He took a small step back, keeping his head lowered reverently.

Demetri still felt the little flutter of panic when people caught sight of the scars. If you aren’t Pretty what’s the point in keeping you around?

At least Connor didn’t seem put off by them, in fact his words reached into the blond’s scrambled brain and plucked out a memory with shocking clarity. He grinned, a warm natural expression rather than one designed to entice. “Asshole number two...”

Flickers of shared food, kneeling for the man, the heated mat and a few hours reprieve danced through his mind, they didn’t linger but he knew enough to know this was one of the nice ones. His attention turned back to B who was visibly distressed.

Without hesitation Demetri was nuzzling his cheek and sliding his hands under B’s shirt. His usual conflict resolution skills kicked in without a second thought, he needed to make B happy, he needed to be good.

“Shit, are you taking him or not? I would really rather avoid the paperwork and not have him fuck your dog in the lobby.” The handler just needed to wash his hands of this. Rossi was trouble and he needed to avoid that if he wanted to get taken off of desk duty.

Connor took a deep breath, watching the embarrassment and sadness on his dog's face, and then audibly groaned, putting a hand up over his face. Jesus, if B turned on the fucking waterworks he'd be totally lost, right in front of the other handler.

"Yeah, fuck. Yeah. Damn it. Baby, you know I hate when you-... fuck."

Connor sighed and waved his hand at the handler. "Yeah, fine, okay. Just... just whatever means we don't have to call that piece of shit two-bit mob boss."

He took Demetri by one arm, pulling him closer to himself and slightly away from B.

"This is not because you made your sad face at me, sweetness. It is not. Now come on, we're going outside to figure this shit out a little bit and get you two out of the lobby before someone calls the cops for public indecency." He moved towards the door, pulling Demetri with him, trusting B to fall in as well without even a glance back.

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bloojayoolie · 5 years

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#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Being Alone #Animals

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