#click to view bc low resolution

[xusmo]

𝕋ℙ𝕆ℍ 𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕥 : Cowboy RGB yeehaw!

[Extra stuff] ART PROGRESS lol

I was tired drawing this, and realised that RGB doesn't actually have real hands.... 💀

[interrogatormentors]

BOOK TWO, EVENT 1: FLASHBULB MEMORY

While the Interrogatormentors as a whole lacked any sense of humor, Sollux found taking command of the BC Starskimmer Arisen after his graduation ironic as all hell. The ship upon which he’d served as helmsman hadn’t changed much in his absence apart from a few personnel changes, and Sollux had to stop himself from heading down the corridor to the helmsblock on more than one occasion. He couldn’t help but wonder if the assignment was just another test from Rapard or another one of the higher ups, giving him a ship to which he had such a fraught history with. He never voiced this suspicion of course and no one ever confirmed it, or so much as admitted Sollux had ever served aboard the ship in the first place. An echo of vindictive pleasure surged through Sollux every time a helming tech scurried away from him, or when Captain Pilthe had to tip his scarred chin upwards in deference to the interrogatormentor he’d once viewed as subtroll.

Sollux woke to a soft buzzing from his palmhusk, and he fished it out from where he kept it under his pillow. The Starskimmer came with two recuperacoons waiting for Sollux and Ophlia, but both had elected for platforms instead. They needed to keep alert, and Sollux felt sharp as anything as he answered the call without slime clinging to his frame. Ophlia sat up from her platform as he did so, looking over at him with vague disinterest. Sollux had to suppress a groan as he saw the caller ID, but answered the message all the same.

Gamzee Makara, the ship’s security officer, grinned all lopsided at him. “Got some motherfucking work for you two,” he said, drawling.

“Next prisoner transfer isn’t until midnight, Makara, tell me why you really called,” Sollux said.

“Nah, nah, I wouldn’t motherfucking dare lie to you.” Gamzee’s smile didn’t shift, and Sollux took a slow breath to enforce calm. He never could get a read on the purple with how all over the place his body language was on a good day. Gamzee kept talking, eyes half-lidded as he bobbed his head as if to some imaginary beat. “Them’s the prisoners yesterday brought in through our doors. I was sorting through their files and wouldn’t you motherfucking know it, clean and clear as a midmorning dewdrop, we got some rebellion criminal records blazing hot on my desk. Dunno how they motherfucking slipped through, but thought you might wanna take a motherfucking gander before they’re transferred away tonight.”

Sollux’s left eyelid twitched. “Get them in isolation rooms and halt their transfer until we perform an interrogation,” he said, and hung up the call. He pinched the bridge of his nose as Ophlia began to get dressed. “Pilthe fucked us over again.” Ophlia raised an eyebrow as she buttoned up her uniform, and cocked her head to the side. Sollux snorted. “Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t expect competency from a tenured seadweller. Wish the news didn’t have to come from Makara.”

Ophlia shrugged, waving a hand. “Serving his time,” she said, voice low.

“He’s treating forced conscription like a fucking vacation, is what he’s doing,” Sollux said. He threw off his sleep shirt, donning his uniform as well. “I don’t know how he passed through an interrogation from Rapard with his head intact, not if the rumors about his rebel ties were true.” Ophlia cocked her head to the side. She didn’t say anything, not really needing to, and Sollux growled as he shoved his feet into his boots. “This entire ship is comprised of weak links ready to snap.”

Ophlia snapped her fingers at him as she approached, right under Sollux’s nose. He inhaled through his nose and out through his mouth, clenching his hands into fists. He stopped only when he left his claws pierce his skin from the force, and blessed numbness flooded him as the pain reminded him to draw back, school his emotions back into a practiced plateau of calm. “Right. Sounded like there were at least two rebels that slipped through the net. One for each of us, at least, so we’ll be done by midnight anyways.” He picked up his earpiece as he headed for the door, putting it on and clicking it once to make sure the channel was clear. Ophlia put her own on, depressing the call button and tapping it once with a nail. Sollux heard the nail tapping loud and clear, and nodded.

Ophlia followed Sollux as they left their shared room and headed down the deserted halls, tall and resolute as ever. Sollux relaxed as they walked, squaring his shoulders and posture straightening to mirror his partner’s as they walked. He always felt better with a job to do, and the long stretch between any fruitful interrogations had put him on edge. Now he had something to focus on, to sink his teeth into, and he couldn’t wait to see the rebel unlucky enough to meet him on the other side of the isolation chamber’s door.

Gamzee waited for them outside the isolation blocks, scrolling on his palmhusk. He glanced up as Sollux and Ophlia approached, not even bothering to uncurl his spine from the terrible slouch he constantly bent himself into. He leaned against the wall, gesturing to the door on his left. “Got a motherfuckin’ rust and a cocktail olive for you, all wrapped up and special. Olive’s on the other end of the motherfucking wing, needed t’grab some motherfucking special shackles. She’s motherfucking feisty. Sent their files out to you like, motherfucking...two minutes ago.”

“Shackles or no, they’re not difficult to install, Makara,” Sollux said. He pulled out his own palmhusk, glancing through. The files didn’t have much apart from age range and names, but their files were flagged with their exact hex codes linked to rebellion activity. “You take the olive then, considering you’ll have to do wrangling, Davrot. I’ll take AA.”

Ophlia and Gamzee both stared at him, and Sollux blinked twice as he registered the error. Aradia Megido. His pan flipped right over in his skull as a memory clamored to be seen, acknowledged, something nostalgic and peaceful and mournful. Both his helming programming and interrogatormentor training fought against the surfacing thoughts, emotions too much to control. So Sollux forced himself to not think, his mind doing the work and blocking the memory off before it could surface and break his calm.

“A stutter,” he said. “I’ll visit the medbay following this interrogation. Aradia Megido.” Ophlia looked him up and down, eyes narrowing an increment in that same analytical way she’d looked at him back when the Reichenbach’s Head Admin had dropped Sollux’s wigglerhood trollhandle. Sollux returned her gaze without faltering even as a headache built behind his left eye at the strain of repressing his own memories, and after a few moments Ophlia bowed her head slightly.

Sollux let out a soft breath as his fellow interrogatormentor retreated down the lengthy hall to the far end of the isolation block wing. Gamzee cocked his head. “You gonna be motherfucking peachy keen in there, motherfucker?” Sollux narrowed his eyes and he laughed, low and rumbling. “Sir Motherfucker, excuse my motherfucking cheek.”

“There is nothing the matter,” Sollux said as his head throbbed. “More lip and I will have you reporting to reeducation in a few hours.” He didn’t have the energy to correct Gamzee on his manners right now. He could almost hear the remaining metal in his pan rattling around from the force. He pricked his own thumb with a sharpened claw, pressing the small smear of blood to the reader next to the isolation block’s door. He entered, and the world faded into nothingness as the soundproofed door slammed shut behind him.

The rustblood sat on the dingy sleeping platform of the cell, crosslegged and alert with her arms propped on her knees. Her face fell when she saw Sollux enter, but her eyebrows knitted together in something akin to pity rather than fear. She wore psionic-suppression cuffs on both wrists that weren’t shackled together by any sort of chain, but her arms looked too thin to possess any threatening amount of muscle.

Her arms. Something about her arms were wrong, they didn’t quite match the soft curves of the rest of her, and Sollux sank his nails into his palm again. He needed to remember, it seemed important, but the emotions roiling just below the thin veneer of trained calm threatened his professionalism.

He took a breath, raising his hand to the thermostat and sinking the temperature down. As a rust, this troll would feel uncomfortable long before he did. “Aradia Megido, hex code A10000?”

“Yes,” the rustblood said. She opened her mouth to say something, chest swelling to fuel some sort of tirade or threats perhaps, but she closed her mouth again and settled.

“They only call me in if you have something to hide.” Sollux folded his arms behind his back, keeping his posture straight and digging his nails into his own wrist where this Aradia could not see. “So make it easier for both of us and explain now why your blood code is linked to rebellion activity.”

“Well, because I’m a rebel,” Aradia said.

“You admit this?”

“I wouldn’t be saying it if it weren’t true. Would I lie to you, Sollux?”

Sollux felt his psionics burning at his own skin, his fingers acting as conductors for the pain that grounded him. He wanted, he needed to remember, but he couldn’t or he’d crack. He hadn’t felt this unstable since his training days, every moment a threat that could shatter his emotionless facade at any moment with Rapard’s voice snarling in his skull. Just turn your emotions off, like a husktop. You’re a piece of equipment, the right hand of the Empire. Act like it, cullbait. “You know of me, then.”

“Sollux, I know you.” Aradia stood then, and Sollux lowered an arm sparking with psionics. Aradia noticed and stopped, although she still lifted her hands up to him as if soothing a fussy lusus. “You look like a daywalker-- Are they even feeding you? Do you remember me?”

“I’m receiving the appropriate amount of calories for my weight and activity level and I don't need pity from a mudblooded excuse of filth.” The words came out of Sollux before he could stop them, harsh and angry and emotional. He gritted his teeth as Aradia inhaled sharply, raising a hand to his earpiece. “Davrot. Switch me.”

“Just reached the cell,” Ophlia said. “Just got the name.” “I don’t care,” Sollux said. “Switch to the rust. She is provoking an emotional response.”

“You--” Ophlia’s voice faded into static, harsh in Sollux’s ear.

Sollux turned away from Aradia an increment, watching her out of the corner of his eye. “Interrogatormentor Davrot. Is your equipment faulty? Repeat your last message.”

The static faded, and Ophlia’s voice returned with the exact same words and tone he’d heard a thousand times before. “All is fine.”

“Are you coming, then?”

A pause. “All is fine,” Ophlia said again, a little louder this time.

Sollux pursed his lips, looking back to Aradia. She took another step forward, and Sollux bared his teeth at her. “Sollux, please,” she said. “You were my best friend.” She held firm even as Sollux’s hand sparked again, his hand balling up into fists. She only spoke louder, faster. “I’d always make you come outside and you complained so much you finicky brat, but you did it anyways. For me. Even after Vriska happened, you still came.”

Vriska. The arms. Everything snapped back into focus for Sollux in one crystalline moment, and he lashed out with his psionics in a wave of force. Aradia braced herself, arms crossed in front of her with an inorganic clank as she sent up a shimmering shield of her own psionics that whispered of the dead. The arms weren’t real. Zahhak had made them after Vriska had bent Sollux's mind into putty, gorging him on mind honey and sending him after Aradia and crushing her limbs under heaps of rubble. His best friend. His moirail. The arms weren’t real. The cuffs weren’t working.

“Davrot!” Sollux gathered his psionics around his arm, sending them out in a solid beam that Aradia ducked under. “Ophlia, come in!”

“All is fine,” came Ophlia’s voice again.

Sollux swore under his breath as Aradia lowered an arm and a hatch opened along the side, and she pulled something out of it. She depressed a button along the side of the slender object and a whip unfurled, and she snapped it against the ground once before slinging it out towards him. The whip curled around his wrist and Sollux grabbed onto it, sending scorching psionics along its length. Aradia pulled the whip back just before the psionics reached her hand.

“Come on, Sollux, are you really surprised it’s a trap?” Aradia threw an arm back and then forward again, the whip snapping and lashing against Sollux’s cheek as he flung himself into the air to avoid the brunt of the attack. “It was super obvious! We didn’t even make fake names or anything. This doesn’t have to be so hard.”

Sollux landed back to the ground on the balls of his feet before lowering himself into a practiced fighter’s stance, clapping his hands together to blow back the whip as it came towards him again. “It doesn’t, you’re correct. Surrender now and you might live.”

He charged forward, coming well within her range to limit her usage of the whip. Aradia closed the gap, head lowered before tossing it back. Sollux sidestepped the horn-gouging attempt, throwing a right hook only for Aradia to dodge again. She threw a punch of her own. Sollux caught the clumsy fist with ease, nails digging into the false skin. Aradia grinned at him. “Surprise!”

The cuff clicked around his wrist from where Aradia had removed one of her own while he wasn’t looking, the light along its side glowing a soft green as Sollux’s psionics winked out of existence. Sollux stared a moment too long at the cuff and Aradia headbutted him again, hard. Sollux felt his nose crack and he stumbled back. Aradia readied her whip as Sollux turned and bolted. He yelled as the whip curled around his ankle as the door opened, sweeping his foot out from under him and sending him crashing to the ground. The whip slid back and away and Sollux scrambled to his feet, shooting out of the room and slamming the button outside it to close the door behind him. The whip cracked against the metal.

Sollux ran his fingers along the psionic cuff as he heard the muffled sound of psionics blasting against the door. He found no purchase, no groove, only a small numpad which he had no time to attempt to crack. He cursed again, looking down the hallway that Ophlia had gone down. He let out a soft breath as he spotted Gamzee jogging towards him. He had his clubs out, a welcome sign considering the whole situation. “Makara, status report on Interrogatormentor Davrot. The rustblood isn’t properly restrained.”

Gamzee slowed down, lips curling into a lazy smirk as he lifted his palmhusk. He pressed on the screen. “All is fine,” said Ophlia’s voice from Sollux’s earpiece.

“Surprise, motherfucker, you just got yourself motehrfuckin’ bamboozled,” Gamzee said, pocketing his palmhusk. “Welcome to your motherfucking rescue mission.” He spun his clubs around in his hands before swinging with frightening speed, and Sollux only just got out of the way in time. The club slammed into the wall, which dented from the force of the highblood’s swing.

“I knew it. I knew something was off about you,” Sollux said. He gritted his teeth as he avoided another strike aimed at his head.

Gamzee laughed, his whole body a dizzying blur that had Sollux’s head spinning. The voices of the doomed were quiet with his currently repressed psionics but something else whispered in his pan, something dark and ancient and hypnotic that made Gamzee’s form hard to track. Of course this fucker had chucklevoodoos. Of course.

Sollux backed up but Gamzee moved faster, slipping past him despite his massive bulk and blocking the corridor to the main ship. The door to Aradia’s cell blew open, still sparking with maroon light as she stepped out. Sollux wasn’t stupid. Without his psionics his limbs were tissue paper. He could fight without them, he’d sparred with Ophlia plenty of times, but the odds were stacking against him more and more. He turned and ran further into the cellblock wing, throwing his earpiece down onto the ground as Gamzee started mocking him with Ophlia’s voice as he fled. The pair followed him, keeping on his heels.

He almost barreled a troll over in his haste, but had the mental fortitude to jump to the side as the olive clawed at his face with knives jutting out from her gauntlets. He saw Ophlia lying on the floor halfway out of the cell, bleeding from a nasty head wound.

Sollux whirled around, and a club met him in the face. He took the blow at full force and flew back a few feet, slamming into the wall. Sollux pushed off from the wall despite the way his whole face throbbed from the blow, using the momentum to twist his whole body and roundhouse kicking another club away from his face. The olive to his side crouched and then sprang up into the air, swinging down with her clawlike knives. Sollux dodged the obvious attack, catching Aradia’s whip again. He tugged her forward, punching her in the jaw before she could react. She fell against the wall with a thud. Gamzee kept swinging his clubs at near-lethal speeds, and Sollux felt sweat dripping down his nose at the effort of bouncing away from them and ducking as the olive charged him again.

Finally Aradia’s whip cracked in the air and then wrapped around his neck, and Sollux fell backwards as she yanked the whip tight. Sollux tried to find purchase in the whip as it cut off his airways, tucking his chin in a futile attempt to find air. “Sorry, Sollux,” Aradia said, and her voice came to Sollux from the end of a tunnel as his vision went black. “Get well soon!”

Sollux snarled, but even with his interrogatormentor training he couldn’t hold his breath forever. His eyes rolled back as he gasped and choked, vision blurring. He gripped onto the whip, trying to tug Aradia down and forward, only for Gamzee to scoff. Another club smashed against the side of his head, and Sollux saw no more.

[elsaclack]

30 and 42 for peraltiago please 🥺

SO THIS ISN’T MY BEST EVER but i kinda....maybe......partially like it??

pre-relationship, probably late s2ish?? bc i have no other brand or any sense of self-control, apparently

30. “Those things you said yesterday...did you mean them?”

42. “I don’t care, just hold me.”

Amy doesn’t see Jake for nearly six hours after they arrive at the emergency room.

She tries not to let it bother her - she knows he’s okay, she could hear him arguing with the nurses for the entire first hour they were there - but the truth is, after the last twenty-four hours of terror and pain with nothing but him tethering her to reality, it feels not unlike she’s missing some vital part of herself without him in sight.

And she supposes the feeling must be mutual; after six hours of faint, but persistent anxiety festering in the spaces between her ribs, the door to her room cracks open, and he noiselessly slips inside.

He keeps his back pressed to the wall beside the door well after it’s clicked shut again.  “You awake?” he whispers in the semi-darkness.

“Yeah,” she rasps, and he darts toward her.  She can tell he’s limping, even in the shadows cast across his figure by the dim lights behind her bed, and she chokes down the automatic admonishment that rises in her throat at the sight.  She knows it would fall on deaf ears - she knows if the roles were reversed, she’d shrug him off without a second thought.  So she watches him move closer, watches him drag the guest chair closer to her bedside with one hand, watches him feel around in the folds of her blankets for her hand.

And once he’s got a firm grip on her hand, he finally goes still.

Jake presses his lips against her knuckles, and she’s thankful for the darkness concealing the faint blush that spreads across her cheeks at the scratchy feel of his five o’clock shadow against her skin.  “You okay?” he whispers, gently tracing a path up her arm from her wrist up to her shoulder and back down again with the fingertips of his free hand.

She shrugs the best she can, and he exhales a huff of laughter through his nose.  He’s close enough that she can see the faintest glint of light reflecting off the whites of his eyes, and a bubble of warmth expands around her heart.  “What about you?  Are you okay?”

She taps her index finger against his hand, adjusting her head on the pillow to see him a bit easier.  He blinks, lips pursed to one side, like he’s really considering it.  “Better, now,” he finally says.

She blushes again.

Slowly - wincing against the sharp pains of her muscles protesting her movements - she rolls to her right side, closer to him.  Jake doesn’t try to stop her, though his grip momentarily tightens around her hand; it loosens as slowly as she sighs, settling into her new position on the bed.

It’s quiet for a moment, and even though the quiet is normally something Amy rather enjoys in his company, right now all she hears is the distant echoes of torture playing on a never-ending loop in her mind.  So she clears her throat, eyes squeezed shut, only opening them when she senses him shifting in his seat.

“Hey,” Jake’s voice is low and soothing, and she does her resolute best to focus on it over the memory of his voice shattered with desperation.  She blinks, shaking her head slightly, and his face comes swimming into view.  “We’re okay,” he reminds her, gently squeezing her hand.  “We made it.”

She nods, ignoring the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t,” he says sharply - so sharply he seems to surprise himself.  “This wasn’t your fault.”

“It was, though,” she mumbles, and Jake’s grip on her hand tightens again - and this time, she can feel her own hand shaking.  “Kirkland was my perp, you only got caught up in it because you happened to be with me when -”

“When he attacked you and kidnapped you and dragged you back to a literal torture chamber that he built specifically for you,” Jake interrupts, and Amy clenches her jaw against a veritable tsunami of guilt - her fault, her fault, her fault.  “Ames, I’m glad I was there.  I’m glad he decided to take me, too.”

Her breath catches in her chest, but his earnestness does not fade.  “You are?” she manages after a beat.

“Hell yeah I am,” he says with a forceful nod.  “Could you imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t been in there with you?” 

She tries to conjure the images in her mind, but all she sees is his face contorted in pain, rivlets of blood dripping down his pale skin from somewhere above his hairline.

“He woulda killed you, Amy,” he says softly, and it’s like a bucket of ice water over her head.  “If I hadn’t’ve been there to negotiate with him -” he stops, shivering in a way she thinks might not be entirely voluntary, and it’s suddenly very difficult to remember how to breathe.  “He would’ve - god.  I’m so glad I was there.”

She knew, on some level, that she spent a certain amount of time being held hostage completely unconscious; it hadn’t occurred to her in the disorienting moments after regaining consciousness that the dream she’d had of Jake begging for both of their lives - for her life, specifically - had actually happened.  But now that she’s thinking about it - now that she’s really allowing herself to relive it - she can’t believe she spent even a moment believing her mind could conjure anything as horrific as Jake listing all of the reasons their deranged captor shouldn’t murder her in cold blood.

“You talked to him about me, didn’t you?” she rasps, and Jake nods slowly.  “You begged him not to kill me.”

“You could hear me?”

“I thought I was dreaming,” she says absently.  “What did - what did you tell him?”

He clears his throat, fingers rippling self-consciously against the back of her hand.  “I - I told him that you’re so smart, and sweet, and funny,” he starts, “and that you’re horrifically awkward with kids, but you’d do absolutely anything for your nieces and nephews.  That you have six brothers who adore you and one who kind of tolerates you. Um, that you make mini loaves of pumpkin bread and give them to all of your neighbors on the first day of fall every year, and chocolate chip cookies for the first day of spring.  I told him that you’re a terrible dancer but you’re taking classes to get better and that you love animals but can’t go within five feet of a dog without having a full-on epipen level allergic reaction.  That you pretend to hate pop music but you can sing along with almost every Taylor Swift song on my Spotify playlist.  That you love cheese but hate string cheese and you can only have red wine on Friday nights because you get such a bad headache the next day, but you refuse to stop drinking it even though it’s clearly bad for you.  I told him that you’re my best friend,” he murmurs, “and that I love you more than anyone on the planet, and - that I’d, y’know...I’d just be kinda...lost.  Without you.  Or something - something like that.”

She exhales slowly, watching him chew the inside of his cheek and avoid eye-contact.  “I - I don’t - know what to say,” she finally manages.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, “you don’t have to say anything.  I’m - I was desperate, y’know.  He - had a knife, and I couldn’t - my wrists were tied, I couldn’t get to you to - to physically stop him.  I would’ve said anything.”

She nods, hoping the room is dim enough to mask the undeniable wave of disappointment flooding her belly.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop him from hurting you,” he says softly, so softly the tears spring up automatically at his words.  “God, hearing you scream - I don’t think I’m ever gonna get that sound outta my head.  I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, and this time he doesn’t try to cut her off - just shakes his head, diligently chewing his cheek once more, eyes fixated on the blankets bunched beneath her crooked elbow.  “And you’re right - if you hadn’t been there, I - I don’t think this would have ended in the ER for me.”

He clears his throat again, briefly pressing the back of her hand to his lips.

“Did you mean it?”

He lowers her hand slowly, brow furrowed, and there’s a mottled-looking bruise developing over his left temple, dipping dangerously close to his eye.  “What?”

“The things you said...did you mean them?”

He shakes his head - an absent movement she recognizes from all the times she’s watched him try to piece a puzzle together.  “I’m not following you,” he confesses.

“You said you would’ve said anything to stop Kirkland from killing me.  Did - did you mean all the things you did say to him?”

His mouth drops open, but no words come; he shakes his head again, a confused laugh escaping from his throat.  “I just - I was trying to humanize you, I just - told him facts about you -”

“Jake.”

He keeps up the facade another moment, before deflating.  “Yeah, I meant it,” he mumbles, the pad of his thumb swiping up the inward curve of her own thumb in a nervous tick.  “I just - I dunno, Ames.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” she says truthfully; he studies her expression for a moment, before nodding in bald-faced thankfulness.  “But you should know - the feelings are...mutual.”

She can see his eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline, a broad grin splitting his face in an instant. “Oh-ho,” he quietly crows, “so you are totally in love with me!”

“Never said in love,” she mutters, rolling her eyes and ignoring the faint ache at the base of her skull at the movement.  He snorts, leaning closer to her, and through the mirth she can see it - unabashed affection simmering in his soft gaze.  Her heart throbs, familiar and exhilarating, and for a third time he presses her hand against his lips.  Exhaustion thrums through her veins, tugging at her sticky eyelids, and despite the fact that she can feel the warmth of his breath on her face every time he exhales, he’s stupidly, stupidly far away.  “Come up here,” she murmurs with a twitch of her wrist.

He furrows his brow.  “What, in the bed with you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s so narrow - and your knee -”

“I don’t care,” she interrupts, “just - hold me.  Please.”

She tacks the last word on as an afterthought - as cushioning to what she belatedly realizes is more of an order than an invitation.  “Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, already sprung up from his seat to clamber up the side of the bed, and whatever pulse of self-consciousness she felt fades immediately.

Amy rolls painstakingly to her left side, biting back a pained groan the entire way that only subsides when she feels the warm wall of Jake’s body flush against her back.  He pulls her into him until her shoulders brush against his chest, and she closes her eyes at the feeling of him nosing through her hair.  The crown of her head is wrapped in thick bandages, but she still feels the press of his lips against her; carefully, she turns her head to find him a breath away, watching her through long eyelashes.

It’s not the most comfortable position - she’s sure she’ll get a crick in her neck like this if she tries to hold it too long - but when he tentatively brushes his lips against hers, her discomfort vanishes.  It’s just him - his arms around her waist and curled beneath her head, his knees slotted in behind hers, his lips warm and gentle, moving in tandem with hers.

He presses another kiss to the corner of her mouth when she pulls away, and another to her cheek as her head automatically rolls to a more comfortable position; as she turns her head back to face the far wall, he trails kisses down the side of her neck and up the line of her shoulder.  “Thank you,” she whispers.

“Sh,” he shushes her, and her eyes flutter closed.  “Sleep now.  Talk later.”  He plants two more kisses at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.  “I like you.”

She smiles - a small, tired thing.  “I like you, too.”

He murmurs something else - something that makes him laugh, that makes the mattress sway beneath their bodies - but she’s asleep before it reaches her.

request a prompt for any of these pairings!

[bloojayoolie]

Animals, Beautiful, and Children: e Pretty Girl Alert - Petite, happy sweet natured, lovely ona leash, seems housetrained 2 ueans eld, 42 bs 63328 **** TO BE KILLED - 5/25/2019 **** COMPACT CUTENESS IN ALL ITS SPLENDOR. INTRODUCING EEVEE <3 A volunteer writes: Perfectly petite Eevee and her delicate white paws pitter-pattered right into my heart on this spring day. A beautiful brindle-and-white girl, Eevee is about 2 years old, appears to be house trained, and is lovely on the leash. Playful, happy, spunky, and sweet-natured, Eevee enjoyed both exploring in the park and offering me (her lucky human, if just for a while) lots of affection. I'm not sure if "Eevee" is short for something? Or if her initials are "EV"? I asked her, but she wouldn't tell, she just smiled and kissed me! I do know that she is Endearingly Vivacious, Effortlessly Vibrant, and Enchantingly Valuable. Might you be her fur-ever person or family? Come and meet Eevee at the Manhattan Care Center today. EEVEE@MANHATTAN ACC Hello, my name is Eevee My animal id is #63328 I am a female brown brindle dog at the Manhattan Animal Care Center The shelter thinks I am about 2 years old, 42 lbs Came into shelter as a agency May 20, 2019 Eevee is at risk for medical reasons. Eevee was diagnosed with canine infectious respiratory disease complex which is contagious to other animals and will require in home care. Behaviorally, Eevee has exhibited poor impulse control and some handling sensitives, and would benefit from reward based training. My medical notes are... Weight: 42.4 lbs Vet Notes 22/05/2019 [DVM Intake] DVM Intake Exam Estimated age:2y Microchip noted on Intake?n Microchip Number (If Applicable): History :stray Subjective: Observed Behavior -wagging tail, allows exam, loose body language Evidence of Cruelty seen -n Evidence of Trauma seen -n Objective T = P =80 R =coughing BCS 5/9 EENT: mild hyperemic conjunctiva ears clean, mucoid dc ou Oral Exam:front teeth clean PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, Lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G:no ss seen, intact MSI: Ambulatory x 4, epidermal collarettes on abdomen CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Assessment: pyoderma, cirdc Prognosis:godd Plan:cephalexin 250mg bid x10d doxycycline 200mg sid x 14d first doses gievn tab ou bid x 7d SURGERY: Temporary waiver due to cirdc 22/05/2019 [Spay/Neuter Waiver - Temporary] Your newly adopted pet has been diagnosed with C.I.R.D.C. and the staff veterinarians are issuing a TEMPORARY waiver from the spay/neuter requirements of the City of NY. Follow up care at your regular veterinarian is recommended to ensure continued treatment through to the resolution of the issue. At the time of a full recovery you may choose to have your veterinarian perform the spay/neuter surgery, or make provisions to return the pet to ACC for sterilization. Details on my behavior are... Behavior Condition: 1. Green Behavior Assessment Date of intake:: 5/20/2019 Spay/Neuter status:: No Means of surrender (length of time in previous home):: Stray Date of assessment:: 5/21/2019 Summary:: Leash Walking Strength and pulling: Light Reactivity to humans: None Reactivity to dogs: None Leash walking comments: None Sociability Loose in room (15-20 seconds): Highly social Call over: Approaches readily Sociability comments: Body soft, jumping up, mouthing assessor with moderate pressure Handling Soft handling: Over-aroused Exuberant handling: Over-aroused Comments: Body soft, jumps up, mouths with hard pressure. When collar is held, turns head and mouths assessor's wrist hard, leaving red marks. Arousal Jog: Engages in play (exuberant) Arousal Jumps up, grabs leash in mouth Knock: Approaches (exuberant) Knock Comments: Jumps up Toy: Grips, firm Toy comments: Body soft Summary:: 5/20: When introduced off leash to dogs, Eevee is playful and social today. 5/21-22: Eevee engages in play with males and females. ENERGY LEVEL:: We have no history on Eveee so we cannot be certain of her behavior in a home environment. However, she is a young, enthusiastic, social dog who will need daily mental and physical activity to keep him engaged and exercised. We recommend long-lasting chews, food puzzles, and hide-and-seek games, in additional to physical exercise, to positively direct her energy and enthusiasm. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: Level 3 Behavior Asilomar: TM - Treatable-Manageable Recommendations:: No children (under 13) Recommendations comments:: No children: Due to the high level of jumping and mouthing seen at the care center, we recommend an adult only home. Potential challenges: : Basic manners/poor impulse control,Mouthiness/poor bite inhibition,Handling/touch sensitivity,Low threshold for arousal Potential challenges comments:: Basic manners/poor impulse control: Evee jumps up a lot on people in a social manner. Please see handout on Basic Manners. Mouthiness/poor bite inhibition: Evee has been very mouthy at the care center, at times mouthing with hard pressure and leaving red marks. Please see handout on Mouthiness. Handling/touch sensitivity: Evee has been sensitivity to certain forms of restraint at the care center, head flipping and mouthing hard when her leash is grabbed or collar is held. She will likely need slow handling and treats to pair restraint with good things. Please see handout on Handling/touch sensitivity. Low threshold for arousal: Evee has become quickly over aroused at the care center, jumping up and mouthing hard. Please see handout on Arousal. * TO FOSTER OR ADOPT * HOW TO RESERVE A “TO BE KILLED�� DOG ONLINE (only for those who can get to the shelter IN PERSON to complete the adoption process, and only for the dogs on the list NOT marked New Hope Rescue Only). Follow our Step by Step directions below! *PLEASE NOTE – YOU MUST USE A PC OR TABLET – PHONE RESERVES WILL NOT WORK! * STEP 1: CLICK ON THIS RESERVE LINK: https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/List Step 2: Go to the red menu button on the top right corner, click register and fill in your info. Step 3: Go to your email and verify account \ Step 4: Go back to the website, click the menu button and view available dogs Step 5: Scroll to the animal you are interested and click reserve STEP 6 ( MOST IMPORTANT STEP ): GO TO THE MENU AGAIN AND VIEW YOUR CART. THE ANIMAL SHOULD NOW BE IN YOUR CART! Step 7: Fill in your credit card info and complete transaction HOW TO FOSTER OR ADOPT IF YOU CANNOT GET TO THE SHELTER IN PERSON, OR IF THE DOG IS NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY! You must live within 3 – 4 hours of NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Northern VA. Please PM our page for assistance. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a dog on the To Be Killed list, including those labelled Rescue Only. Hurry please, time is short, and the Rescues need time to process the applications.