#ct husky

[kangals]

is stellina a rough collie? i’m bad at telling and can’t find it on the blog haha but my college’s mascot is a rough collie and you could only occasionally see her around campus with her handler (i got to pet her twice!) but i just wanna bury my face in all that fluff

ooh you've met reveille!! she's such a pretty dog, i think every college should have a collie mascot. and yes stellina is also a rough collie! can confirm the best part of having one is being able to smush your face into the fluff, 10/10 would recommend.

[thethirdman8]

The Hill tonight..🐎🐎 go huskies..

[westernconnecticut]

Husky Meadows Farm Stand Opens for the Season!

Husky Meadows Farm kicks off the 2023 farm stand season this May with their annual organic seedling sale, which runs through Memorial Day Weekend! A large selection of tomatoes, sweet and hot peppers, cutting flowers, kale, and broccolini are offered for the home gardener. Organically fresh and super delicious The Farm Stand will also be stocked with freshly harvested first greens of the season –…

[allhungry]

Best Pizza Food in Plainville- allHungry

Are you craving the best pizza food in Plainville, CT? Look no further! Order via allHungry and enjoy pizza from the Plainville's top pizza spots like- Husky Pizza, D'Marias Pizza, Roma Pizza and Deli, etc. Order from these featured restaurants and as well as other pizza restaurants in Plainville. Order now via allHungry.

Order Now: - https://allhungry.com/ct/plainville/restaurants

Address: 738 Washington Ave West Haven, CT 06516

Contact no.: +1- 8554902390

Email ID: info@allhungry.net

[astralnymphh]

ct; praise kink brainrot, strapping, ellie proving something with her plastic schlong cause she can't help but make you feel good during everyday praise.

☆ quick jot just thinking about conversing with jackson!ellie and somehow stumbling upon the topic of "who's smarter" with the context of her being into science and astronomy. laying on your sides, huddled n' facing each other, drowsy lips carrying words across the small space bridging you both: "I'm not as smart as you, ellie. you spent your time in here reading every book on space you could find like a knowledge junkie." and when those words fall from your lips — of course, her nostrils and brows screw up, and her lips crinkle into a doubtful smile, giving you the old "don't say that" quotidian expression. "whaat?" she elongates her tone, "you're crazy, babe. i've seen your work, you're like.. fucking brilliant." chuckling light and snapping up the chance to scoot closer, crooking her middle finger around your ear to pull the few flimsy whiskers of hair away from your cheek and watching you cringe at her commonplace compliment. "no way." you insist with disbelief firm in your jaw — and an idea crosses her face.

"look at you, my smart girl." her husky comment directed towards you, bouncing your hips up and down on her strap. however determined you are to ride the pleasure out, your grinds and lifts were noticeabley tired — she observes this in a head tilt, and beams amusedly. before you could say anything about her calling you "smart girl", nor breathe the beginning of a response, ellie's minding her barren hands to your ass cheeks and filling them tightly — to spread them, feel them bulge from the tines of her digits, pull them wider as her legs retire from laying splat to bending in support; reinforcing her pelvis to fastly fuck up into you. dangling your head back freely, you let your underside get throughly used while the slaps of skin and the spate of her coos draw aimlessly through your skull, "my smart girl knows how to make me cum— oh, fuck, mhh make that face again for me baby?" her small tits jerking as she exerts all of her trained and bottled energy into slamming her cock right into your highest, deepest pleasure point. you hit the mark; make the exact face she likes — and her praises are dancing all over your excited, thrumming skin, and knotting inside your stuffed up pussy, "oh-hoh, yeah? so good at this, aren't you?"

[canhearitonthewayhome]

imgonnagetyouback

author's note: hiiiiii! this could potentially be a series if people like it. I have never written anything before and I did not proofread very carefully + wrote this super late at night. there seems to be a ton of lore in this part to set the vibe. let me know what you think! I am new to tumblr but I am pretty sure my asks/requests are open as well! ok byeee xoxo

word count: 2.3k

i. lilac short skirt

September, 2023

The sound of various playlists had been echoing down the hall and into your poorly insulated room for the past few hours. However, it was silent in your room, as your normally steady hand was shakily applying a final coat of mascara to your lashes. You sighed as you twisted the wand back into the tube, tossed it in your yet-to-be-organized drawer, and ran your fingers through your hair. Gazing at your reflection, you grew frustrated. It was your senior year at UConn, you had just moved all of your things back into Husky Village with the rest of your closest sorority sisters, and everything was on track to go perfect for the year. You had just received your LSAT scores back, and they were better than what you had initially anticipated, ensuring you an acceptance at your law school of choice when looked at in combination with your perfect GPA. There was only one thing missing, and it was the one thing you had never imagined you would be without. Her.

Attempting to make it through syllabus week seemed nearly impossible on Monday, but you had managed. The entire week felt like going through the motions. Your routine in Storrs, CT, had been the same for nearly the last three years and you hadn’t realized how difficult revisiting the familiar places on campus would be for your healing process. Honestly, you were just thankful to have not seen her yet, but you knew the odds of running into her tonight were more likely than not; Paige. 

On that note, you opened your nightstand drawer. You had been doing so well in regulating your grief, but you couldn’t help the tear that threatened to escape when you gently picked up the polaroid of the two of you from last Fall. Both of you in unintentionally matching sweatsuits, you sat on her lap at a bonfire party. She had a blanket wrapped around herself sitting in a lawn chair, with her arms wrapping around you. You had flashed your biggest smile for the camera, a natural blush showing on your cheeks as a result from the butterflies your then-girlfriend gave you as you cuddled into her, but Paige wasn’t looking at the camera. She wore a soft smile while looking only at your bright face. It was the kind of look she reserved only for you, as if no one else was capable of evoking that same action from her. The polaroid was slightly worn, as it used to sit in the back of your phone case. Now, it resides permanently in your nightstand as the sight of it makes your stomach churn with the harsh reality of her absence, but throwing it away made the realness of the situation seem too permanent. 

You were brought back to reality with two gentle knocks on the door. You didn’t have time to hide the tear from earlier that had made its way down your cheek before your best friend, Hazel, had entered. She quickly shut the door behind her, and her big smile turned into a look of concern as she noticed the object between your fingers. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, but I just want you to know we don’t have to go tonight if you don’t want to. We can call food in and binge watch a show? We only have one year left together so I don’t have a problem doing that instead”, she quickly babbled out. You could tell she had probably had a few with your sorority sisters down the hall at how quickly she had been talking and the flush of her face. “No”, you said. “I have to deal with this eventually, and I can’t spend the whole year feeling sorry for myself. Let’s have fun tonight!” you smiled. You knew that Paige had more than likely moved on in more ways than one and there was no sense in making yourself miserable any longer. You had your girls, and that was all you needed. “Can you help me pick out an outfit?” you asked your seemingly convinced best friend. “Yes!” she shrieked, b-lining it to your closet. You placed the polaroid back in your nightstand and shut the drawer while she rummaged through your freshly unpacked closet. 

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch upwards as she started holding out options on her own body, tossing things aside she found unfit for the evening. You were thankful for the friendship you had made in your Introduction to Criminal Justice class you had taken your first semester at UConn. Hazel had taken a seat next to you on the first day and since then, you had been pretty much inseparable. You found yourself being literally snapped back to reality again with her loud laugh. “What are you smiling at? That was a quick mood change”. You shook your head as you told her, “I am just thankful for you. I don’t know how I would’ve made it these three years and especially the last few months without you”. She just shook her head and turned back around to make her final selection before tossing her choice onto your bed and making her way towards the door. Before she let it shut she added, “Thank me by putting that on and enjoying yourself. You deserve it. I’m gonna go grab you a drink and some shots. You need them. When I’m back, be ready to head out!” 

You giggled feeling excited for the first time in a while. It was short lived as you looked onto your bed to change into the outfit she had picked out. The lilac short skirt she had selected paired with a simple white baby tee had been the exact outfit you wore out to the same bar you were heading to the first night you had met and spent with her, with Paige. 

September, 2021

Cramming yourself into Ted’s, you could feel the tequila sodas you had lost count of coursing through your veins. You had just finished your second syllabus week, the stress of recruitment, and getting ready for the exciting year ahead. Per usual greek-life tradition, the girls in your pledge class were taking some of the newly joined girls out to celebrate their bids, the start of their new college life, and to have a good time. Standing at only 5 '2 you held Hazel’s hand as she effortlessly guided you through the crowd to a somewhat-empty area for you all to conjoin at. You stood on your tiptoes to make sure no one was left behind before turning to Hazel. “Let’s go get some shots for everyone!”

 As you turned around, you bumped into a much taller figure, spilling their drink all over the floor. You felt your cheeks get hot with embarrassment and a ramble of apologies were already leaving your mouth as you looked up from where the pink liquid and ice cubes were, “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I am so clumsy I can’t believe…”, you found yourself at a loss for words as you made eye contact with the girl. She was tall, and had to be at least 6’0. She had a skinnier build, but you could see the faint lines of proven muscle definition in her arms as she tucked loose hair behind her ears. She had a wide smile, without showing any teeth form and her eyes creased as she saw your expression. “Hey, don’t worry about it! It’s crowded in here!” she laughed. You were thankful for her nonchalant reaction, but it didn’t make the guilt you felt any better for spilling her pretty much full drink. “Do you think I could buy you another to make up for it? Please, it’s the least I could do. I don’t mean that in a creepy “I’m trying to get with you way”, but more a “I feel like a dumbass and am really embarrassed way”. Not that I don’t think that you're hot and wouldn’t get with…” you groaned as you cut yourself off again, hand covering your eyes as you made yourself cringe. You heard a light laugh, “It’s all good. Sure, you can buy me a drink. I’m Paige, by the way. Paige Bueckers”. As you looked up at her again, you saw her grin had grown into a gummy smile, holding out her hand to shake yours. 

After introducing yourself, Paige led you to the bar with ease, given her height. After thinking she had lost you in the crowd the first time, she extended her hand backwards, offering her pinky for you to hold. You hope she didn’t notice the way your face lit up as you accepted her simple gesture, trying not to read too far into how romantic it felt. You had literally just met the girl, but had never felt so instantly comfortable with someone in your life. Paige let you buy her drink you had spilt, but refused to let you pay for the next few rounds, your drinks included. You had talked about everything, covering where you guys were from, discovering your same ages, learning she was on the women’s basketball team, and you being overly invested in your academics. You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed till you felt your phone buzz and saw the time on your lockscreen, 12:45 a.m.

Hazel Crawford <3

Girl, are you good? I haven’t seen you since you said you were going to the bar.

10:03 p.m.

I see you. Omg, are you hanging out with Paige Bueckers???

10:45 p.m.

I cannot wait to hear about this tomorrow.

11:30 p.m.

I am headed back home. I didn’t want to interrupt you guys or make you feel like you needed to come home. Love you, be safe, and text me when you leave!

11:49 p.m.

Paige must’ve noticed your change in demeanor. “Is everything okay?” she asked. You quickly sent a response to Hazel telling her you were safe and would let her know when you got home. “Yes, of course. I just came here with friends and hadn’t realized how much time had passed. They were worried about me, but they all have gone home now” you replied sheepishly. “Well, are you ready to head out? I can walk you home if you’d like” she said as you stood up. You were pulling down your too-short lilac skirt down as you grabbed your things. “No, no. You don’t have to do that! I have already taken up so much of your night. I’m sorry again -” you felt yourself being cut off again as she grabbed your hand that was holding your phone and purse. She looked you intently in the eyes as she said, “I would really like to walk you home if that’s okay with you”. You couldn’t help the smile that crept on your face again as you led her towards the door. “Okay, Bueckers, let’s go home then”, you grinned. 

You can’t remember everything that you and Paige talked about on your way home, but you do remember the constant giggling, the way she swung your interlocked hands like you were just two kids, and the way she held the door open for you as you walked into your building. “This is me” you slowed, as you reached the door to your single dorm. “Do you want to come in?” you offered, feeling a little bold. Paige smiled before taking your other hand in hers. Holding them both she responded, “I would love to but I have practice in the morning and am already out way later than I should have been, but I didn’t want to say goodbye to the prettiest girl in the bar”. You felt your face grow hot as what must have been the millionth time of the night. It had only been a couple hours and you knew this girl was going to be the death of you. You had a feeling she might be thinking the same of you. She took one of her hands holding yours and placed it on the side of your face, stroking your cheek before saying just above a whisper, “I’m really sorry if this is forward, but I really want to kiss you and -”. This time it was you cutting her off as you stood on your tippy toes to close the gap between the two of you. Your hands moved around her neck and her free hand moved to your waist, holding you gently as if you were porcelain but firm enough so that you couldn’t melt away from her. You could’ve stayed that way for hours, but when you both finally pulled apart to catch your breath, it felt like time had frozen. Paige pecked your lips one more time before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Goodnight, pretty girl”. With that, she turned around and made her way down the hall. As you shut the door behind you you couldn’t help the butterflies that exploded in your chest. 

The next morning, you had woken up a bit panicked as you realized you had never gotten the tall blonde’s number, or knew where she lived. As you threw a sweatshirt on to head to Hazel’s room to debrief the night before’s events, you shut the door behind you. There you found an envelope freshly taped to your door, what must’ve been just an hour or so earlier. You quickly took the note and opened up to a phone number and a small note saying, “I hope you let me see you soon, Pretty Girl”. You beamed to yourself before running down the hall to Hazel’s room.

[cc1010fox]

Jango Fett: (timber wolf)

Nulls: (timber wolves)

Very independent. Will bite.

Alphas: (high content wolfdogs)

As deadly as Jango when they need to be. Very big. Very scary. Not as independent as Jango.

CC's: (mid content wolfdogs)

Less independent than Alphas, but still capable of thinking for themselves. More open to leadership from an outside source.

CT's: (low content wolfdogs, basically huskies, malamutes, and german shepherds)

Need leadership. Have to be cared for. Good boys. Best boys honestly.

Wolffe and Fox: (high content wolfdogs)

Mostly good boys. Very high bite instinct, though. Will chomp. No one knows why they're the way they are. Independent from outside sources (inwardly), and very loyal to their pack (outwardly).

Bonus Boba: (smol timber wolf)

You're lucky his dad's not around.

[cherry-jamm]

Butcher x reader? Smut or not depending on your comfort level.

Due to all the side effects of the temp V and butcher being sick all the time, he’s been spending a lot of time at the hospital and there’s one nurse he interacts with all the time and develops a crush. The nurse (reader) likes him too. Eventually butcher sees her at a bar after hours one thing leads to another and they go home together.

Add on depending on how long you want it. Or maybe two stories?

You could add that Homelanders been watching butcher madly obsessed with him and he spies on him and the nurse hooking up and kidnaps her to use against him.

Homelander could use compound V on the reader making her a supe which he knows butcher hates.

Another idea I had was solider boy wanting the reader and being a moncho asshole and forcing himself on her and butcher stops him and is protective.

OR reader wants both solider boy and butcher at once and can’t choose so maybe she gets both (wink wink)

Sorry it’s a lot. Couldn’t write my own stores. Decided to pass along ideas.

Gross Misconduct

・❥・ Maybe your patient is hot, but that’s no excuse to partake in misconduct!

・❥・word count: 1.7k

・❥・warnings: hospitals, mentions of cancer, general banter, fade to black smut

・❥・Anon i ❤️ u and your ideas I plan on writing multiple of them so stay tuned, also my poor heart only wrote the sweet parts of your request I couldn't take the angst 😭

also I haven’t been in a hospital since I was five, can you tell?

There's a particular smell in a hospital. Disinfectant, stale air, and a powder smell that wouldn't go away. You held a small plastic cup in your hands, filled with a few pills in various sizes and colors. Your shoes clicked against the pale blue linoleum tiles that reflected the fluorescent lights above. You approached room 234, cautiously knocking on the door before entering. 

William Butcher had become what those in the psychiatric ward referred to as a revolving door patient. He would come into the hospital for no more than a few days at a time with a mysterious illness, then against his doctor's orders leave the hospital, only to reappear almost a week later with the same ailments. He had become a regular patient for you, he always requested your presence whenever a different nurse came to check on him. You'd be lying if you said that it didn't flatter you. He was a handsome man, tall strong, and rugged, and his accent was more attractive than you'd ever admit out loud.

"William." You greeted with a small nod and an easy smile. "Can't believe I'm stuck treating you again. What is it this time?" You teased.

"Same as last time. And I told you, call me Billy." He groaned. He sat on the bench instead of the bed, his head rested against the wall.

"I figured. You know the doctors all want you to stay here a little longer, maybe they could find the source of this. I know you don't want to hear this, but it could be cancer, it's always best to diagnose early."

"It ain't cancer." Billy sighed in that husky voice of his. "I just need a few days then I'll be back on my feet." He ran his hand through his hair. "And how've you been sweetheart?"

"I've been fine." You hummed. "You ready to take some pills? I assume you've been taking these everyday while you've been out of here?" You raise an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, yeah, I've been taking my pills." He waves his hand dismissively. You pull a water bottle out of a small fridge in his room. You set the cup and the bottle down beside him. 

"The doctors are suggesting a CT scan, or an MRI, something that might find cancer. That's the most viable option at the moment. I'm not supposed to be telling you this, really, a doctor was gonna come in later today and tell you, but I know you and I wasn't sure if you were even gonna stick around until then." You looked at him with furrowed brows, he was one of the most frustrating patients you had ever dealt with. He wasn't violent, or particularly perverted, but he was stubborn. Of course, many of your patients were stubborn, but he was different. Something about him made you want the best for him, not just in the way your field of work required, there was something personal about it. 

"You want me to get that scan?" He asked gruffly. Looking up at you standing over him. You felt your face heat up at his unrelenting stare. 

"Well, what I want doesn't matter. All I can say is that, these doctors know what they're doing, and it would do you some good to listen to them." You said matter-of-factly. He nodded. Silence fell over the room, but you could tell he didn't want you to leave.

"You- uh- you seeing anyone?" He questioned after a prolonged period of quiet, he was uncharacteristically nervous. His eyes were suddenly transfixed on the floor tiles. 

You were trained to say that it was none of his concern, but instead, your lips moved to say, "No, I'm not." The edges of your mouth quirked up into a small smile. 

"Yeah?" You found yourself swooning at his voice. 

"Yeah." You grabbed a blood pressure cuff from the wall and approached him to start taking his vitals. You raised your eyebrows and he took off his thick coat. You eyed his large biceps subtly. You wrapped the cuff around his arm and inflated the cuff. 

"How's about you let me take you on a date after this?" He smirked, looking up at you.

"You know I can't do that Mr. Butcher." You tutted. "Your blood pressure is better than it was last time you were in here." A smile forced its way on your face. "So you can listen to what the doctors say." He rolled his eyes.

"Why not? You don't like what you see?" He insisted. 

"As your nurse that would be gross misconduct. Highly against the code of ethics in this here hospital.”

"So if I wasn't your patient you'd go out with me?"

Just as you suspected Billy checked himself out of the hospital mere hours after you gave him his pills and took his vitals. God, he would be the death of you. You had just gotten home, you kicked off your shoes at the door and sunk into the couch. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you sighed before picking it up. It was your friend texting you and a few others in a group chat. 

who's gonna come with me to the bar tn 😝

Only a few minutes passed before your other friends started responding. 

I'm free tn

If we're going to Blue's I'm down

Count me innnnnnn

You rubbed your eyes. Did you really want to go out tonight? Maybe a night of fun will be good for you. 

What time? 

You asked. Pretty soon everything was arranged, all you had to do now was hopefully take a nap before you go and make sure you looked presentable. Time ticked by and you made yourself look presentable before grabbing your keys and driving to the bar.

The sun was low in the sky and cast golden shadows over the street. There was a crisp chill in the air. You pushed the door open and immediately spotted one of your friends sitting at the bar. After a while everyone arrived and you found yourselves a small table in the front corner of the bar. One right next to the window.

Time had slipped away from you as you drank and chatted with everyone until your eyes caught on a figure out of the window. Billy Butcher was walking down the street and right into the bar. There was a small bell above the door that jingled when he came in. The sound was so small that it would've been drowned out by the sounds of the bar if you hadn't have been intently listening for it. He walked in and scanned the entire place. His brown eyes looked into yours. There was a single second where the only people in the bar were you and Billy Butcher. He smirked wryly. You felt your face heat. Then as if he had no cares in the entire world he walked to the bar and ordered himself a drink. 

Your conversation became mindless chatter as you watched him. You burned holes into his back and practically studied the nape of his neck.

"What's gotten into you?" One of your friends poked your shoulder. 

"Okay, don't look now, but the man sitting at the bar is the patient I've told you guys about." Of course, all your friends turned their heads around to look for him. "He's the tall one, with the jacket." You whispered. One of your friends hummed. 

"Seems like a hunk." They giggled. "Why don't you go talk to him, buy him a drink or something?" 

"Oh no I couldn't, he's my patient!" You insisted. 

"But isn't he checked out of the hospital? That means you wouldn't be breaking any rules by flirting." 

"Until he checks back in, in a week." You scoff. 

"I say, go for it! Didn't you say he asked you out earlier?" Another friend chimed in. Your entire body felt hot with embarrassment. 

"Which one of you is gonna pick me up tomorrow morning?" You joked and downed the rest of your drink. Your friends cheered as you stood up and approached Billy.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t anyone tell you to stay home to and rest to recover?” You tease playfully. He scoffs before chuckling like he’d been expecting you to approach him. 

“A man can’t have some fun anymore?” His brown eyes graze over you in the dim light. “Whiskey’s the best medicine.” He swirls the brown liquid in his glass. You hum. 

“Well, I’d have to disagree.” You watch him take a sip of his drink. There was a beat of silence.

“You look good out of those scrubs.” He nodded. You felt yourself smile.

“You think so?” 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.” He nodded. “So what’re you doing here?”

“I can’t have some fun anymore?” You shot his words back at him with a grin. He calls the bartender over. 

“Drink of choice?” He leans closer to ask. “It’s on me.” He winks cheekily. You order a drink and tap your fingers against the bar while waiting. “I presume you haven’t started seeing anyone in the few hours since we talked last.” He started. 

“Why does it matter?” You teased. The bartender set a drink down in front of you and you brought it to your lips to hide your smile. 

“Well, have you?” 

“I have not.” You replied simply. He smiled. 

“You got anyone else in here with you tonight?” He leaned in close. You felt your brain slip out of your ears at his accented voice and warm breath. You looked over at your friends, who had gone back to chatting, while one or two of them kept an eye on you. 

“No one that would mind if I left.” You said breathlessly. 

“Then, may I have the honor of taking you home?” You looked up at him, at a sudden loss for words. 

“You know I can’t be your nurse if we do this?” You checked in.

“Well, nobody has to know…” You shot him a look. “Yes, fine, I know you can’t be my nurse.” You smiled and nodded. 

“Lead the way Prince Charming.” 

His gruff laugh filled the space between you. He took your hand and started guiding you away from the bar and towards the door. You cast a final thumbs up towards your friends before the cold air hit your face. The street was now completely dark, only lit up by the streetlights. 

“You are going to love this.” He laughed, as he guided you to his car.

[build-a-buddy]

Friendly fox, happy husky...and a cube.

- CT

[dailymothanon]

Some linework practice with old money Connie 😤 he stays fresh with the hard cash, I bet he has several Rolex watches along with his many yachts. What does he need all that for?? I also read a bit how folks in CT wanna make the state dog a siberian husky, would it make sense for him to have one??

(also what are some Connie ships y'all are into, I'm curious...)

[theburialofstrawberries]

as an Indian who moved to the U.S. as an adult for the first time 2 yrs ago and has lived in connecticut for all that time I WILL be a patriot idgaf I simply do not understand the connecticut bashing....I don't even understand the new jersey bashing I am sorry to say....very convenient to reduce connecticut to rich white new york day time commuters who have estates in Lyme when this is a diverse working class state that is struggling with some of the worst wealth and income inequalites and underfunded public systems out there....!!! buses were free during covid and ct organizers made it so that free buses extended through winter and my first semester here I was just hopping on free ct buses, which are always warm when it's so cold outside .... ppl are friendly and even when they're not they will help you out if they see you in trouble.... the tree cover is fantastic... fuck CT bashers. New Haven public library I love you CTrail Hartford line I love you Bridgeport city council ceasefire resolution i love you Mystic aquarium i love you Uconn huskies women's basketball team i love you Yale and new haven divest movement I love you Uconn divest movement I love you Wesleyan divest movement I love you Uconn divest movement logo which has Jonathan the husky in a keffiyeh I love you

[owlafterhours]

[AC6] Vegas AU: Walter gets a new hound

o/! This is the start of the, uh, extremely expanded vegas AU because

yeah, we got a tourney format n everything ahha

there's a bit more drama but as an overall, it'll be on the same lighter wavelength :) They'll also be the same flavour of drafty as the other parts, since i find even posting a bit helps drag me into editing it (usually with a friend) more thoroughly later.

(In which: Walter loses a pilot, gains a pilot, and gains the headache that this pilot comes packaged with.)

------------------------------------------------

“I quit - good fucking luck finding another slave.”

Those had been the parting words of 617 before she stormed out of the training room. The following silence was cold, and the words looped in his mind. It was still messy here, his hounds having left his service in quick succession, leaving him the lingering effects of their existence. Cleaning and tidying into a box instead of waiting lockers.

617 had been the last to leave.

His shadow fell over a notebook as he bent to pick it up; dark grey with a smeared name in black marker, the cover slightly curled. He knew that if he flipped through it, he’d find pages of training regimens, notes on AC construction, the parts, the customizations available - and which ones were banned from which tourneys. Tactics for their foes, strategies to keep their strength up through the grueling tournaments. Complaints in the margins. Messages passed between the pack. 

Walter dropped it into the box.

Owner and trainer of the CT team Hounds, ‘Handler Walter’ was famed for being a cold and tough taskmaster. If you could make it through six months with him, they say you’d be guaranteed a job as a competition pilot. Even spending a month under his tutelage was enough to sharpen your skills - if you still wanted to get into a simulator after that. 

The only reason Hounds had never gotten into the Invitational, they say, is because they never had backing from one of those big corps. Walter had finally secured that backing in the last three years, but it was still an uphill battle to negotiate his way into it. 

With the current state of events though…at least the agent was coming around with fresh blood soon. Though the numbers had been thinning, the quality of the pups had gotten better. The agents knew that they’d lose out if the recruit didn’t stick around for long enough, so they’d stopped bringing him anyone who’d wash out in the first week. Only the truly dedicated or -

The desperate. Guess his reputation had gotten a little too much, Walter thought, if they were scraping the bottom of the barrel like this. He eyed the one pup the nervous agent had brought to him.

Short, with a cane and a rather extensive burn splattered over half their face. It stretched down under their sweater’s neckline. The cane was a hint that there could be a problem - though, perhaps not serious enough to interfere with their work. 

“He’ll be able to pilot an AC, but not much else.” the agent warned, knowing that Walter liked it if the pilots could help with maintenance. Not like he had a choice this time. “Something about an accident a few years ago - it's all in the file.” 

“I can see that.” Walter replied before looking at the pup again.

“You.” Walter addressed them directly. Their gaze shifted from the wall to Walter. “What do you want out of this?” 

“To pilot.” A soft voice, slightly husky. “What else.”

“And you can pilot like that.” He asked, and they paused. Seemed to think about it - before replying:

“I’m here, aren’t I?” There’s no real challenge in their voice, nor fear. 

Just a fact.

“...We'll see.” Walter said, before turning back to the agent. Not the first iceberg to crack in his care, if it turned out that they couldn’t stick it out. Not like he had any other choices, if he wanted to make the cutoff.

“I’ll take them.” 

The agent coughed. “We’ll have the rest of the information packet forwarded to you later then.” 

Walter nods, and the agent takes that as their dismissal, leaving the room with a quiet click of the door. The drone of the aircon filled the space.

“Let’s see what you can do, 621.” 

–

Uncanny.

He didn’t know how else to describe it. Tablet in one hand, a stylus in the other and a steaming mug on his desk, Walter put the last month in review as he sorted out the final details of their registration into the Invitational.

621 would do everything without complaint and without comment. If he was lacking in technique, he’d practise again and again until he had worked it out. Until he could repeat it in different scenarios and whatever conditions Walter asked for. Every word of admonishment, every harshly delivered reprimand, simply absorbed. In fact - Walter tapped his stylus on the desk - 621 didn't even react to what little praise Walter dished out either. 

There was no arrogance about it - 621 would just acknowledge it with a nod, before getting back to whatever it was they were working on. Nevermind an iceberg, this one was closer to a concrete wall. It’s hardly the first time that Walter has had to force a hound to take a break, but it’s the first time it’s happened so consistently with no external impetus. Maybe 621 could be an AC junkie–he certainly seemed familiar enough with them, but it felt like he could hardly look at them, when not inside the simulator. 

Walter put the tablet down, exchanging it for the records he had set to the side. Along with 621’s mugshot, there was also some badly formatted text, letters crammed into the solid black frames. As expected, it was sparse–less than what a fully legitimate agency would take. This was what you got when you needed to set your own terms with the pilots, without future meddling from the talent agencies though.

621 had graduated from high school before going straight into an apprenticeship and worked as an MT tester for a few months before an accident, the file said. That made sense. 621 had the tells of someone who’d done some real piloting before, and they largely matched someone accustomed to the safety requirements in a commercial MT. From watching him the last few weeks in the simulator’s cockpit, Walter would put his bet on a BAWS construction MT. Plenty of those around.

He flicked to the medical page. Extensive burns, a nasty concussion that led to the impairment of several senses, some of it temporary, some of it uncertain. These complications meant he couldn’t work with the machines anymore, so he’d floated around afterwards, doing odd jobs here and there before uprooting his entire life and moving to Institute City. Not an uncommon story either - one that Walter had seen time and again. 

All of his educational institutes had been redacted - tracks covered there. The apprenticeship…the garage he’d worked at was now defunct. Had been for a few years. A quick look showed that it had not been re-established either.

621’s scars looked too fresh.

Walter leaned back into his chair, leaving the printouts under the spotlight of his single lamp. If it were him…he’d have hoped that his future employer didn’t care where he came from. Just that he was a willing pilot that wouldn’t even need to ask ‘how high?’. Walter had taken this for granted as well; the quiet had been nice at first, after the rambunctious of a full kennel. Now, though, he missed the hounds that would talk about their lives by way of quip or quibble.

Hmm…hospital records might have something. Some of those scars looked no older than a year - two, if they were pushing it. Burns to this degree weren’t common, and if they hadn’t been treated at any official hospital…well, OVERSEER’s crawlers did not discriminate, and even the back-alley doctors were prone to using digital records these days.

Nothing for it; he sat up again, pulling up the OVERSEER command window and throwing every useful detail into the search field. Half of it, he guessed, would probably be fake. 621 was unfamiliar with this part of Institute City, but despite the profile placing him as a relatively new resident, he seemed to have more than a passing familiarity with how the city worked. 

Walter took a sip from his now-cold tea while the results compiled themselves. 

That…was the profile of the winner three seasons ago. Competitive name, Raven. Legal name, Raven Sinclair - which matched what was on 621’s profile. And see, Walter might have never seen their face - Raven had been like his hounds, competing with identity obscured - but Raven had only been a little shorter than him, while 621 barely reached his shoulders. 

He’d thought that the name was just a coincidence, but no. Now, it seemed like there was something…troublesome was involved.

BRANCH wasn’t the type to interfere with smaller organisations like this. Historically, their targets had been higher profile - places like the big corps and the government. They even had their tangential connections - OVERSEER operated in similar spheres – but because of that, it was unlikely they knew what Walter and OVERSEER had been working towards.

Walter drained the last of the tea and grimaced. The agents had not come with anyone else, and there was no time to put his own call out for another hound. Failing to show for their first year would, no doubt, put a black mark against him and his team, so there was no ‘another year’ to wait out. 

He put in a note to request surveillance upgrade to the simulator from Carla, additional monitoring for 621–

And in more ways than one, it seemed, if the camera in the training room wasn’t glitching. His hound had, apparently, decided to spend the night in the simulator, again, despite Walter ordering him to take a break. Grumbling, he got up from his comfortable chair, switching off the desk lamp on his way out.

(The small figure of Walter makes it into the camera’s view. It takes some time, but eventually, he coaxes a smaller figure out of the depths of the simulator. Together, they leave the room, and it darkens in the wake of them leaving, only the emergency light from the bulky simulator pulsing in the grainy darkness.)

[westernconnecticut]

Norfolk Connecticut's Husky Meadows Farm Celebrates Earth Day

Husky Meadows Farm, located in Norfolk, Connecticut kicks off its 2023 season of events with a weekend-long Earth Day Celebration from Friday, April 21 through Sunday, April 23. While primarily an organic market garden, the entirety of Husky Meadows Farm includes 300 acres of mixed native meadows, woodlands, hay fields, and an orchard. Earth Day offers the perfect opportunity for visitors to…

[mydaddywiki]

Graham Beckel

Physique: Husky/Average Build Height: 5′8" (1.73 m)

Graham Stuart Beckel (born 22 December 1949 -) is an American character actor known for his guest appearances on television, but has had roles in several major films as well. He has appeared on television like Battlestar Galactica, Heroes and Halt & Catch Fire, but has had prominent roles in several major films as well like The Paper Chase, L.A. Confidential, Leaving Las Vegas and Sicario: Day of the Soldado.

I know many people will have happily j/o off to him, but the Old Lyme, CT native really doesn't get the recognition he deserves as hot daddy/bearish actor. He hardly ever appears in bear/daddy blogs or websites and I honestly can't figure out why. Ruggedly handsome with a gravelly voice (you just know this man knew how to talk really filthy in bed) and beautiful eyes.

Beckel has been married since 1984. He is the younger brother of political strategist and TV commentator Bob Beckel. Oh the fantasies of a hot Graham and Bob Beckel sandwich with me in the middle. Or an Eiffel tower gimmick going on with me giving it to one of them (preferably Bob) or receiving one one of them (preferably Graham). It really doesn't matter as long as it's both of them.

RECOMMENDATIONS: (1973) The Paper Chase (1997) L.A. Confidential (2007) Battlestar Galactica: Razor (2011) Atlas Shrugged: Part I (2014) The Loft (2014–2015) Halt and Catch Fire (2015–2016) Aquarius

[squirrelno2]

Back at it again with my Jedi oc, this time introducing a clone to be her pining lesbian counterpart. For context this is set incredibly early in the clone wars so Jedi and clones really haven't learned anything about each other as groups except what Kaminoans told them and then whatever they've picked up as individuals/through the grapevine. and also '25 (name to be revealed in the course of me writing this fic but also she'll have a character tag on this post) has Issues. that too.

It was a strange number for a squad. CT-1525 had been expecting a normal squad of nine plus herself as the lieutenant, with a sergeant to answer to and everything. Instead, she was assigned to a Jedi who’d be running relief missions with only a small squad, and she’d be the Jedi’s primary point person. Not that ’25 hated the idea of being in charge, but it wasn’t what she’d expected at all. Especially when the Jedi, General Tayonissa Miran, didn’t show up on time.

“So if she’s not here after fifteen minutes, do we just go back to Kamino?” asked one of ‘25’s new subordinates. CT-907. She’d never met them before today, but she suspected they wouldn’t get along. 907 was obviously cavalier about everything.

“Enough,” ’25 said. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

She could feel other clones and the natborns who worked here in the Jedi Temple hangar watching them. She wished they could just board the ship assigned to them, but that was for General Miran to order.

At last, one of the bustling figures in the hangar came for them. A Mirialan woman with a cloud of black hair and muted purple and fawn-coloured robes sprinted toward them, then paused a few feet away to draw herself upright. She caught CT-1525 looking and smiled sheepishly.

“Hello,” she said as she approached. “I’m sorry I was late. You’re, uh – CT-1525?”

“Yes, General Miran,” said CT-1525. She was already at attention, but she tried to stand a little straighter anyway. Her new general’s face quirked with something – amusement? Disgust? ’25 had her experience with both. She didn’t really like either one.

“I’m not a general,” Miran said. “At least, I don’t think so. Considering you’re the only ones reporting to me.”

“You’re a Jedi, sir,” ’25 said. “And no padawan.”

Miran stared at ’25 for a long moment. ’25 took the chance to stare back at her. The general – Jedi, whatever – had skin that was such a deep, dark green it seemed to sparkle. Diamonds were tattooed on both cheeks, in a pattern that ’25 imagined had been symmetrical before whatever had scarred her and left her right eyelid drooping over a damaged eyeball. Short, wild curls fell into General Miran’s eyes, and ’25 wondered if she would permit a suggestion about tying it back on the battlefield.

“This army has serious organisational issues,” General Miran said at last. ’25 was so startled she nearly laughed. She choked it back just in time. General Miran shook her head, turning away from ’25 to look at the others.

“Tell you what,” she said, pitching her low, husky voice up so every clone could hear her. “Let’s skip the title confusion altogether. It’s just Tayo.”

“Sir,” ’25 said. “We can’t – that would be –“

“I promise if we have to look like a normal, put-together army team you can call me ‘general’ all you like,” she said, patting ’25 on the chest. ’25 stared down at the place where General Miran’s hand had just connected with her armour, unsure what to say or do.

“We have regulations,” ’25 said feebly. “The chain of command –“

“They wanted Jedi to run this war for a reason, right?” said General Miran. “So here’s some Jedi wisdom. I am not more important than you. You’re all here in case something goes wrong, or the assignments I get would put me in over my head on my own. And probably so the rest of the GAR can keep an eye on me.”

“Sir –“ ’25 protested. Miran held up a hand.

“Let me finish,” she said. ’25 slammed her mouth shut, mortified.

“I am not more important than you,” Miran said again. “I’ll watch your backs. I’m happy to have you watch mine. But our job is protecting all the people out there, and making sure they live through a war they never asked for. So if you have to, you leave me behind. This bowing and scraping ‘general’ nonsense won’t cut it. You need to know I’m no different than you.”

’25 had heard of things like this already. Self-sacrificing Jedi, putting clones under their command above their own well-being. Her brother was serving one such general right now, General Windu.

“That has to cut both ways, sir,” ’25 said. “If one of us gets hurt, and it’s between us and the people we serve.”

Miran sucked in a sharp breath, staring at ’25. ’25 hardly dared breathe. She didn’t regret saying it, but she knew she’d overstepped. Not to mention the squad had heard. If any of them disagreed with ’25, she’d just signed the general up for a very awkward position.

“Then we should hope it never comes down to that,” Miran said at last. “Because you’re my responsibility, too.”

So are you a general or not, sir? ’25 didn’t say it. She’d pushed her luck enough for today.

With a sharp intake of breath, Miran smiled at her squad.

“Well, come on, then,” she said. “Let’s get started!”

[dk-thrive]

Spyro, Siberian Husky, with his Dad. 7 am. 22° F . January 6, 2024. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.