#we also brought her to the vet in between going to houses around the area we found her in to make sure she was okay and to see if she was

[birthofvcnus]

found this little lady running through a field alone near an empty road, took us like an hour and a half of knocking on doors and stuff but we found her home !!!! turns out she’d been missing for two days and her family didn’t think they’d see her again :-(

#don’t reblog #we also brought her to the vet in between going to houses around the area we found her in to make sure she was okay and to see if she was #microchipped (she wasn’t) but she got to eat some kibble there and she was v hungry #but now she’s home safe and sound !!!! her owners have children and the children were rlly sad abt losing her #mine #dogs #happy tag #it’s a miracle that she’s unharmed she could have gotten hit by a car she was kinda far from her home #she’s three or four months old and she was the sweetest most well behaved puppy i’ve ever seen #she didn’t cry at all or pee on me she snuggled in my arms in the car and hid her face in the crook of my elbow #she was an angel i’m glad she’s home

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 108

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Chapter 108: False Answers

Generously sharing hints inside the door wasn't much of a good thing at all, at least for the owners of the hints.

Because once you’d shared your hint, you’d exposed your own strength. The more difficult the door, the more true this was.

The more toward the end you were, the more difficult it was to get hints at all. So going public with a hint might make you a target, someone everybody was on their guard against. You might even be subject to sabotage.

Plus, without peculiar circumstances, nobody would want to share their hard-won hints anyways.

But the door before them obviously had to be an exception, because if they didn't tell the others the rules of the game, then those who died and became Hakobito would increase the difficulty of their escape.

"Are we going to tell them?" Lin Qiushi asked. "What happens if we just announce it like this?"

"We have to tell them no matter what." Though he'd heard the scream, Ruan Nanzhu wasn't distressed at all. "But there's no rush. They're all shrewd old things, even if I tell them everything they might not believe me."

As the three spoke, they returned to the foyer they were in before, and saw that someone had opened a chest in the corner. Inside the chest was something like a stethoscope. Someone had taken it out, and was examining it closely. That was an item available for use inside the Hako Onna game, Lin Qiushi recalled. He didn't think someone would be lucky enough to open up an item immediately.

"Who screamed just now?" Liang Miye eyed the stethoscope, then looked elsewhere.

"It was me…" a girl said meekly. "I was just getting ready to go check out the kitchen with them, but then I saw something in the crack of the door. I think it was a- a little girl wearing a dress. I couldn't stop myself, and screamed."

This girl was obviously a newbie, nervous-looking and by all appearances inexperienced.

After hearing her explanation, a few of the veterans had on peculiar expressions. They wanted nothing more than to stay as far away as possible from those things—only newbies got so foolishly close and offered up their heads like that.

Lin Qiushi took the opportunity to look around, quickly counting up the proportion of newbies to veterans.

Of the twenty-three, at least four in that group of seven were newbies; dazed bewilderment was still visible on their faces.

Minus these seven, there were likely also some newbies in the remaining sixteen. Which was to say, more than one group had brought newbies into this door. So the newbie count was between eleven and twelve, about half-and-half with the vets.

Actually, upon closer thought, it was easy to understand how people could risk other people's lives like this.

There was a limited number of death conditions. To test and identify one meant being able to avoid it. Testing these conditions with other people's lives was the easiest method.

"Can you not just open random chests?" Among the old hands, there were already some who couldn't watch these newbies mess around anymore. "Look—these chests are everywhere, so they must have some sort of special function. If you keep randomly opening them, shit's definitely going to go wrong!"

"What can go wrong!" The one who'd obtained the stethoscope was a young man, bravely swaggering about with a poor attitude. "I'm perfectly fine, aren't I?"

"You might be fine now, but who knows about later." The one with all the suspicions seemed to be called Sun Yuanzhou. The twist of his head was cold as he spoke to the leader of this newbie pack: "You brought them in. Get a grip on them, will you?"

The one who'd brought the bunch of newbies in this time was a middle-aged man named Wei Xiude. His face was unremarkable, and by appearance alone, seemed friendly and congenial. But evidently, to have brought in so many newbies, he wasn't at all a good person.

"Alright, alright." Wei Xiude at least knew to speak well. "I'll take care of them. Xiao Ji, don't open anymore chests. It won't be good if something happens. It's dangerous inside the door after all."

"Like anything will happen," the young man called Xiao Ji spoke impatiently. "You're too wimpy. No risk no rewards…"

As he spoke, he lifted his hand to open another chest.

"Wait—" Lin Qiushi spoke up to stop him.

But Xiao Ji naturally wouldn't listen to Lin Qiushi. In a single breath, he opened up two more chests. Fortunately, his luck was good: one chest had a slip of paper in it, and the other was empty.

"What's this?" Xiao Ji picked up the paper, and read it out loud. "False Answers…" There seemed to be only those two words on the paper, and no other information. He muttered, "the hell is this?"

He tossed the paper aside onto a table.

"Don't open any more." Seeing that Xiao Ji wasn't planning to quit opening chests, Ruan Nanzhu finally spoke up. "If I'm not wrong, this should be a tabletop game I've played before, called Hako Onna. If you keep opening up chests like this, something nasty really will pop out."

At this, Xiao Ji's hands finally stopped. He said, "What? Why didn't you say so earlier!"

Ruan Nanzhu shrugged. "You moved too quickly. As if I had time to."

Because of Ruan Nanzhu's words, all eyes in the house were now on him. Some looked energized, some doubting, some suspicious.

"You mean we're playing a game right now? Have you played it before?" Sun Yuanzhou got the point quickly.

"A few times." Ruan Nanzhu sat down on the sofa and leaned back. "I couldn't be sure when I first came in, so I went upstairs to find some key items. I'm sure now that it's that game."

Everybody gathered around, waiting for his next words.

Ruan Nanzhu very simply explained the rules. In the heavy chests was a ghoul, and opening them up at random could very well release it. Humans caught by the ghoul became Hakobito—box people—who continue on to sabotage the survivors.

Regarding the rules, Ruan Nanzhu hid nothing. He gave detailed descriptions from beginning to end, and answered many people's questions. But it was as he predicted—though he kept up an earnest attitude, the veterans didn't simply believe everything he told them.

"According to what you said, we can just not open chests??" someone spoke up in the group, questioning Ruan Nanzhu. "That's what you mean? That if we don't open any chests, nothing will happen? You said the safe has a four-digit passcode. Though there are ten thousand combinations, as long as we spend some time testing it we'll get it right eventually!"

Ruan Nanzhu turned a palm to the sky. "I'm only telling you the rules from the game I've played, not what the rules are here. There must have been changes, but I don't know what those changes are either."

"Let's count up how many chests are in this house total," a young woman said. Though she didn't look very old, she was seasoned. "I'm Yin Xinyi, pleasure working with you." She extended a hand to Ruan Nanzhu.

Ruan Nanzhu shook it. "I'm Zhu Meng."

"On the first day, the Hako Onna will cry once," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Where her cry comes from is where she's located. After that, she'll only cry when she wants to obtain a power…"

"Power?" Yin Xinyi asked.

"Yes. He's opened one up already." Ruan Nanzhu pointed at Xiao Ji. "False Answers."

Muttering broke out among the crowd, many asking what exactly this meant.

"In the tabletop, it's one of Hako Onna's powers," Ruan Nanzhu said. "It means the player who plays Hako Onna can lie."

Yin Xinyi, "lie? She can answer our questions?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "in reality, yes. As for here, I don't know what sort of derivative effect the power will have."

"We'll rest for today." Sun Yuanzhou's personality leaned toward dominant, taking up leadership among the group. "It's already after ten, and things are more likely to happen at night. Let's discuss this in more detail tomorrow."

"Okay," most agreed with Sun Yuanzhou's suggestion.

Then everybody began splitting into rooms.

There were three floors in the mansion. Floor one held the functional rooms, like the kitchen. Floors two and three were mostly bedrooms, with studies and bathrooms among them. There was also a large balcony, though it was sealed up by cement.

There were no rules about how many people could stay together, but most went for two to three per room—Lin Qiushi's group as well.

As the night got deeper, the mansion went hazy in the darkness.

Steel boards hammered over the windows blocked out most of the sun. Then, thick drapes like curtains at a show's finale sectioned away the remaining light. The lights in the hallway were a dim red, making the whole area seem like a darkroom or something. It was quite discomfiting.

The room Lin Qiushi and company were staying in was also filled with chests.

They had done a rough count. In the entire mansion, there were at least two hundred wooden chests, each about half a meter tall, neatly placed in every single corner of the house; they had a collective presence that was difficult to ignore.

It was in a chest like this that a girl, with her body all twisted up, could be hidden. At the thought, nobody wanted to take a second glance.

After washing up, the three got in bed. Ruan Nanzhu took the bed by the wall and could see the mass of chests with a mere turn of his head.

Before they slept, the three discussed some things.

"What happens if I don't open any chests?" Liang Miye said. "If nobody opens them, then nobody dies?"

"As if," Ruan Nanzhu said. "There'll definitely be a catch for us in here." They just didn't know what that catch was at the moment.

The doors would never allow them to unconditionally waste time inside, unless…there was only one person left inside this door.

"What kind of catch?" Liang Miye said. "But forcing our moves is good actually, or we're all left hoping others will gamble on their own lives."

Every time you opened a chest was a wager; who knew what would come out?

Ruan Nanzhu made a sound of agreement.

Lin Qiushi's attention was also on the chests, though he was thinking about that stethoscope the guy took during the day. The stethoscope was a game item, but could only be used once a day. It could determine whether or not the Hako Onna was in a chest, because if she was, the stethoscope would pick up soft sounds.

It was a very important item, but it was now in somebody else's hands.

Ah, this really was a game of luck, Lin Qiushi thought. As someone who'd never even won a simple five-yuan lottery, his luck truly wasn't all that impressive.

Plus, with their lives as the gambling chips, they could hardly afford it.

Late in the evening, Lin Qiushi still couldn't sleep well. Around three in the morning, a horrible scream came from downstairs, waking everybody from their dreams.

Lin Qiushi came awake in an instant, opening his eyes and meeting Ruan Nanzhu's gaze.

"Something happened?" Lin Qiushi asked.

"Mh," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Let's go see. Downstairs."

Liang Miye had woken up as well, and said, "that was the second floor, right? Don't tell me somebody got bored enough of living and decided to open a chest?" Ruan Nanzhu had explained it thoroughly enough during the day. If, after all that, someone still wanted to risk their life to open a chest, then Liang Miye really had nothing more to say.

But the annoying thing about newbies was their unpredictability. Under the oppressive weight of terror, no one knew what stupid move they would make next.

The crying and wailing didn't stop. When they got to the second floor, they could still hear the sounds coming through the door.

"Aaaah, it hurts, help me, help me!! Aaah—" The screams were chilling. Several people were currently stood outside that doorway. A sweeping look told Lin Qiushi that these were all veterans, including Sun Yuanzhou. He pushed at the door, then said, "it's locked. I'll go grab something."

"No need, I got it." Ruan Nanzhu slowly approached the door, bent down, and got to unlocking it.

Everybody's eyes were fixed on him. Moments later, the lock clicked open, and the room inside was revealed to them.

The room was already empty. The cries were coming from inside a wooden chest. Not only were there cries emanating from the chest, but also a dull banging, as if the person inside wanted to beat their way out.

"Save me, please save me, I don't want to die…" The closer they got, the more nerve-wracking the sound became.

"Who was staying in this room?" Ruan Nanzhu asked. As he spoke, his eyes drifted toward the chest beside this one. "They opened a chest."

"Fucker." Sun Yuanzhou seemed pissed off, angrily spinning around and going to the room next door. He banged on it until he'd woken up the people inside. "Wei Xiude, get your ass out here now! Were the people in this room with you?!"

Moments later, the room door opened and Wei Xiude walked out. He said, "what are you talking about, 'with me'?"

"In that room!" Sun Yuanzhou jabbed a finger at the room where the incident occurred.

Looking at that room, Wei Xiude's brow lightly puckered. "Yes, there are two of them in there." He seemed to comprehend something. "Something happened to them?"

Sun Yuanzhou spat a curse.

Wei Xiude saw everybody's eyes on him, none very friendly, and he laughed somewhat awkwardly.

"My apologies, I'll give them all a stern reminder for sure. But they haven't been in many doors and some of them don't know the rules…"

Sun Yuanzhou, icily, "mind your own people, or don't blame me for coming after you."

Then he walked off, seeming thoroughly disgusted with Wei Xiude.

Which was fair. A normal tenth door was difficult enough, but the newbies Wei Xiude brought in managed to ruck up the gameplay level to difficult-as-hell.

Nobody was in a good mood at this moment. The looks they shot Wei Xiude were also filled with distaste. Behavior like Wei Xiude's had always been contemptible. Inside the door however, every one could really only sweep the snow from their own front porches; they had no wherewithal to mind anybody else. But if Wei Xiude'd actions proved detrimental to everybody's interests, then that was another matter altogether.

The chest was still wailing at a head-splitting volume.

Lin Qiushi found some items that were left behind around the chest. Judging by the quantity, it hadn't just been one person dragged into the chest by the Hako Onna.

People dying meant an increase in the number of Hakobito; the risk of opening a chest had once again increased.

Lin Qiushi let out a breath, thinking things really were getting tricky.

It was the dead of night at this point. Most likely, nobody got any sleep since that chest wailed on for the entire evening. It was only by morning of the next day that the noise gradually weakened, then finally disappeared.

Lin Qiushi still couldn't understand—Ruan Nanzhu had clearly told them not to open chests for no reason. Why would people still break the taboo? Did they really just believe they would be lucky enough?

After a sleepless night, nobody looked very well. The experienced veterans were mostly fine—it was those who'd been hoodwinked in who looked on the verge of collapse. One girl just curled up in a corner sobbing.

Breakfast appeared by itself in the dining room. It wasn't too bad. Though Lin Qiushi didn't have much of an appetite, he still forced himself to eat some.

It was Ruan Nanzhu whose attention kept wandering. He seemed to be thinking something over. Halfway through eating, he said he wanted to go to the bathroom, and Lin Qiushi said, "I'll go with you."

"Sure," Ruan Nanzhu chuckled. "I'm actually a bit nervous."

Bathrooms in the mansion were all stalls with no distinction for gender. Lin Qiushi stood outside to wait, but after a while, he heard a strange noise coming from inside the bathroom.

Lin Qiushi leaned in closer, and upon realizing what the noise was, his expression changed. The noise…was coming from Ruan Nanzhu.

Ruan Nanzhu seemed to be quietly keening, and in that keen were weak cries for help.

Lin Qiushi rushed inside the bathroom, calling out, "Zhu Meng, Zhu Meng, are you alright?!"

He wanted to open the stall door, but found that it was locked. He fished out his tools in a hurry, and popped the lock on the stall in a couple of swift motions.

Once the door was open, he could see inside. There was nobody there. Beside the toilet, there was a black wooden chest. There was no lock on it—it could be opened with a simple lift.

But Ruan Nanzhu's voice was coming from inside the chest.

Lin Qiushi's face darkened. Many thoughts turned over in his mind as he hurried over to the chest.

"Zhu Meng! Zhu Meng! Is that you in there?"

He knew that Ruan Nanzhu wasn't someone who would just open a chest, but the world of the doors was full of peculiar circumstances. He feared that Ruan Nanzhu had encountered some sudden situation and was dragged into the chest by the Hako Onna.

"Zhu Meng!" Lin Qiushi began hitting the chest calling, "are you inside? Say something—"

"Help me…Please help me…" Ruan Nanzhu's voice was getting weaker and weaker, as if it was going to fade away at any moment. "Please help me…"

It had only been a few minutes, but there was already a sheen of cold sweat on Lin Qiushi's forehead. He stared at the lid of that chest and swallowed, hard, before asking in a raspy voice, "what's my name? Tell me, what's my name outside the door—"

"Linlin, save me…" was how Ruan Nanzhu responded to Lin Qiushi's question.

Upon hearing Ruan Nanzhu's answer, Lin Qiushi released a violent breath. He pressed his hear to that chest and listened as that thing inside keep calling his name in Ruan Nanzhu's voice.

"Linlin, Linlin, save me…Linlin, it hurts…Linlin…"

After staring at that chest for a while, Lin Qiushi turned and left the stall. Then he began going stall to stall, knocking down the row.

Very soon, one of the stall doors opened at his knock. Inside was Ruan Nanzhu with his skirt lifted up, and his expression as he looked at Lin Qiushi was strange.

"Linlin, what are you doing?"

Lin Qiushi looked at his face, and without saying anything, walked in and wrapped him up tightly in a hug.

After a moment's shock, Ruan Nanzhu returned the hug.

"What happened?"

Lin Qiushi, "I've learned what the change is."

Ruan Nanzhu, "hm?"

Lin Qiushi said, "the Hako Onna's power…False Answers." He glanced at a certain stall. "The Hako Onna can imitate people's voices and call for help from inside the chest."

Affection disturbed the mind; the moment something happened to someone you cared for, you were no longer in the state of mind to contemplate the logic of the situation. And once you'd actually opened the chest, there was no longer time for regret.

"What did you hear?" Ruan Nanzhu instantly got an answer from Lin Qiushi's words and expression. "You heard me calling for help inside the chest?"

"Yes," Lin Qiushi said. "Fortunately, you don't like to call me Linlin on the outside."

Ruan Nanzhu said, "I didn't hear anything. It seems the two people from last night were tricked like this."

"Mh," Lin Qiushi said. "They must have a good relationship outside the doors."

Ruan Nanzhu said, "you said just now that the Hako Onna cried inside this room, right?"

Lin Qiushi nodded.

"Then we can confirm her location." Ruan Nanzhu was thinking out loud. "There must be conditions restricting her movement, or we wouldn't be able to open the chests at all.”

If there were no restrictions, then that meant the moment you chose a chest to open, the Hako Onna could move to the chest before you.

"Yes," Lin Qiushi said. "So we can confirm the Hako Onna's in this room…But two people died last night."

That meant there were two additional Hakobito inside the house, and they were in unknown chests.

Ruan Nanzhu said, "let's get them to confirm it with the stethoscope."

Lin Qiushi, "the stethoscope's with the newbie that Wei Xiude brought in."

Ruan Nanzhu nodded. "Mh, I know. Let's go talk to them first, so this item doesn't go to waste."

The stethoscope must have changed as well. As for how, they didn't yet know.

Author's Note:

The strongest players pretty much won't ever bump up against each other, because they typically have their own hints for their own doors. The rest of the spots are divvied up among people without hints, so those people are weaker in comparison. Emmmm personally I think getting your hint out first thing would be catching the Idiot Ball? Everybody's basically your competition, and there's only one super important hint to the next door. Ruan Nanzhu would never go in a door and immediately announce he has a hint and attract everybody's attention like that.

Translator’s Note:

Many thanks to this YouTuber for giving me this split-second screengrab of the English name for “False Answers” ‘cause I couldn’t find it in the rulebook PDF...

Names in this chapter

Sūn Yuánzhōu / Sun(1) Yuan(2) Zhou(1) / 孫元洲

Wèi Xīudé / Wei(4) Xiu(1) De(2) / 魏修德

this bastard's name translates literally to "one who practices ethics" lmao

Xiǎo Jì / Xiao(3) Ji(4) / 小薊

[Ch. 107] | [Ch. 109]

#kaleidoscope of death #xi zixu #cnovel #chinese translation #死亡萬花筒

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 6: Fan

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 “And that’s how you cook rice,” Kita says as he puts the pot in the rice cooker. You nod, embarrassed. You settle back on the floor. hiding your face from the two boys as they talk about how their friends. Osamu’s phone starts ringing so he answers it and a loud voice speaks.

“Bro! (Y/N) really lives with Shinsuke?” The caller says in awe so you look at Osamu. He turns the camera to you and you wave your hands, mouthing a hi. “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!”

“Aran, calm down. You act like it’s your first time meeting a celebrity,” Osamu tells the person on the line.

“I can talk to him if he wants to,” you offer to Osamu which Aran hears loud and clear. You hear him shuffle around before Osamu gives you the phone. You greet him with a smile, forgetting about the rice incident. “Hello, Aran-san. Is that right?”

“Yes. I’m a big fan! Actually my whole team is! We watch your vlogs on our breaks,” Aran rambles, making you smile. Interacting with fans is something that helps you cope up with your stress, and knowing that you got a group of athletes as your fans, makes you feel overwhelmed, but in a good way.

“Really? It’s nice to hear that you enjoy my videos. I’ll upload more content soon,” you reply, the smile not leaving your face.

“Who are you talking to?” You hear someone ask from the background.

“(Y/N),” Aran replies excitedly.

“You might have gone crazy,” the other man replies.

“No! I’m serious! Look!” Aran flips his phone to who he’s with, revealing you on the screen. You awkwardly bow then wave.

“It is her! How did you-? Does she have a fan event or something! Hello, (Y/N). I just finished watching the vlog you uploaded yesterday,” the man tells you, coming in close to the camera. “I’m Gao!”

“Hi, Gao-san! It’s nice meeting you!” You greet him cheerfully and the three of you continue to talk.

Kita and Osamu just watch you talk to them. They feels like an online fan signing is happening in front of them. The two of them continue to talk on their own. Minutes later, Osamu hears the rice cooker’s alarm go off so he stands up and gets the rice, leaving you and Kita alone on the table.

You are still talking to the boys, which have now turned into a whole team.  Kita observes you carefully. The way you smile on the phone as if they’re really in front you is making him feel weird inside. And you’re really listening to what they’re saying, which is making that already weird feeling even weirder.

‘Am I becoming a fan?’ Kita asks himself, unsure of what he’s feeling.

“The rice is here,” Osamu announces as he puts the pot at the side.

“I have to leave now,” you tell the men in front of you. “It was fun talking to all of you. And I promise to go to one of your games one day. Bye!” You wave at the phone. You hear a chorus of good byes before you end it. You give the phone back to Osamu, apologizing to him for using his phone.

“It’s okay. You seemed like you were enjoying talking to them,” he remarks, sitting across you.

“Yeah. I love talking to fans,” you say confidently, smiling at Osamu. And there is it again, the weird feeling Kita is new to.

‘Maybe I am becoming a fan,’ he tells himself, getting rice from the pot. “How much rice do you want?” Kita suddenly asks you. Your mind short circuits from his question. It’s not a big deal and even back home, someone does it for you but since Kita is the one doing it the rice feels extra special.

“I think that’s enough,” you answer as he shows you the bowl of rice. He hands it to you and you accept it with both of your hands.

The three of you eat and talk. You ask them questions about their friendship, and you learn that Kita used to play volleyball. You also find out that Kita stopped studying after high school so he can provide for his grandmother. The more you know about him, the more you start to like him despite being the complete opposite of your ideal type.

You see Osamu out while Kita offers to do the dishes. As Osamu’s car leaves,  you hear a dog bark. You look around the parking area, searching for the source of sound. You spot white fur by the bushes so you slowly approach it. Suddenly, a small white dog jumps on you, making you yelp in surprise. After you’ve regained composure, you properly hold the dog.

“Hi, there, little...” You lift him up and check its genital. “Boy. You’re a little boy. Are you lost?” You nuzzle your nose on its nose, shaking the dogs body slowly. You take a better look at him.

He has a puffy long coat which is snowy white, but his ears are grey. He has amber eyes and a very smiley face. He looks like an extra tiny fox. He’s small so you assume that he’s a puppy. You look for a collar or any tag, but you don’t see any. You can’t say that it’s Kita’s neighbor’s dog, because he doesn’t have one. The closest house to his is at least a 5 minute drive.

You stare at him intently, wondering why he looks familiar. Then you finally know who he looks like.

“You look like, Kita,” you coo, bopping its nose. It licks your nose in return so you giggle. “Want to meet Kita?” He barks in response, which you take as a yes. You carry him inside excitedly, not taking in mind about Kita’s reaction to the strange furry animal.

You finally step in the kitchen where Kita is and you proudly show him your new found friend. Kita drops the fork he was washing, totally frozen on his spot. Why are you carrying a dog in his house? Where did you even get that dog?

“What’s that?” Kita asks you, picking up the fork he dropped.

“It’s a dog!” You answer with a proud smile. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Where did you get that thing?” He looks so horrified and grossed out. If anything, he’s ready to throw the dog out of his house.

“I saw him outside. He doesn’t have a collar or any tag on so I brought him inside,” you reply with an innocent tone so he takes a deep breath in.

“What makes you think you can just bring any animal in my house?” His voice is louder than a while ago so you frown. “Bring it back to wherever you found it.”

“No! Look at him! He’s so small! What if a car runs over it?” You gasp, hugging the dog even tighter. Kita looks at you in disgust.

“That’s his destiny,” he remarks but you ignore him. “This is my house, you know. And I don’t want animals in here.” You and the dog stare at him with puppy eyes but he just gags. “You take it out of my house now.”

“But-”

“No more buts. My house, my rules,” he tells you firmly, but you don’t back down.

“Can we let him stay inside just for tonight? I promise I’ll find him a home by tomorrow!” You beg him.

“Nope.”

“Please, Kita!”

“No.”

“Please. Please. Please. Pretty please.”

“Still no.”

“It’s just for tonight. Right, boy?” You ask the puppy and he barks. “See? He’s a good boy.” Kita groans, defeated. You’re even more persistent than the twins, and those two are tenacious as hell.

“Fine. As long as it doesn’t make a mess and noise, he can stay. Just for tonight. I’ll be the one bringing him to the compound tomorrow,” Kita finally agrees but you don’t like his idea.

“Compound? No! I’ll find him a good home myself,” you argue once again. Kita sharply looks at you, but you don’t seem moved or afraid by it. “I’m searching for a home now.” You put the dog on the ground and run to your room to post a picture of him online.

The furry animal and Kita stare at each other for a long time. “Why does he look like someone I know?” Kita questions, tilting his head to the side. The dog mirrors his action. “Osamu when he had grey hair? Or that guy from MSBY?”

“I’ve found a name for him!” You shout, sliding your feet back to the kitchen.

“You’re supposed to look for an owner, not a name,” Kita snaps at you. You ignore his words and pick the dog up and stretch your arms towards Kita’s direction, presenting him the dog.

“Rice. Let’s name him Rice,” you state and he turns around, completely in disagreement with your plans. You put Rice down and move closer to Kita. “It’s a cute name! It suits him. He even looks like you! Rice is just the most suitable name.” Kita grimaces at how you compared him to a dog.

“You’ve only been here for a few hours, and in that few hours you’ve made porridge and brought a strange dog in.” Kita faces you, the distance between the two of you small but safe.

“I’m sorry...” You lower your head, frowning. You hear him sigh so you look back up anxiously.

“I’ll go to the vet tomorrow and see if he’s chipped and has an owner. If he doesn’t, he can stay here. But you need to take care of him,” Kita tells you, giving in to your pleads. ‘Why do I feel like I have a child?’

Out of excitement, you wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him. Once you’ve realized what you’ve done, you pull away from him then run back to your room, Rice following you.

“Why did I do that?” You groan, your face buried on your pillow. Rice barks and you see him sit across you. You smile widely, a blush creeping on your cheeks as you remember the hug again. “He’s so warm!” You squeal like a teenage girl. You start rolling on the floor, muffling your squeals and shrieks on the pillow. “He smells even better up close.”

Meanwhile, Kita is back to washing the dishes, but is completely distracted. He can’t stop thinking about your hug. The thought of your hug turns into a smile. Then, it becomes your voice. After that, it’s your face. ‘She’s cute.’ He finds himself smiling while washing the dishes.

He finally realizes what the weird feeling is.

‘Do I like her?’

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

Facts:

Dogs noses are wet to help absorb scent chemicals

Three dogs survived the Titanic sinking

Pomeranians weren’t always so little. They used to weigh as much as 20 to 30 pounds before being bred down in size by Queen Victoria of England.

Despite their small stature, they are famous for thinking they can take on big dogs with their little bark. This makes socializing a Pomeranian with other dogs important in order to avoid aggressive behavior.

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[doberbutts]

On Consent and Autonomy

Having a discussion with a friend about this sort of thing reminded me that I never typed anything up with Tiki’s journeys through this outside of adding onto various posts already talking about how little dogs like chihuahuas don’t get to have boundaries a lot of the time, and how a lot of the shitty aggressive little dogs are simply dogs who were never allowed to express a boundary without drawing blood.

One of the most important things to me with my animals is, and always has been, consent. I use it with my exotics, I use it with my domestics. There are things that my animals must allow me to do- nail trims, baths, teeth brushing, etc- but for the things that are required I do a lot of no-nonsense desensitization and a lot of fearfree veterinary methods to allow the animal to see that while these things are non-negotiable, they’re also not that bad and don’t have to be the worst thing ever.

But for everything else, there’s always consent involved.

I’ve spoken before about how there’s the issue of autonomy and consent especially with little dogs, who have their buttons pushed and their boundaries ignored simply because of their size, because it’s not like if you harass a doberman into biting you, because an angry chihuahua can do the same damage an angry doberman can. How little dogs especially are favored for the “living toy” and “fashion accessory” factor above all else, and how many of them are so undersocialized and underexercised that they don’t even seem to grasp that they can walk from place to place by themselves and just expect to be carried everywhere by default. How many actually don’t like that and dislike the idea of the looming behavior us freakishly tall humans tend to exhibit while interacting.

One way I managed that entire problem with Tiki was simply asking for consent to pick her up or put her down. She first learned that she could actually move from place to place on her own, and then she learned that she could accept or reject the offer to be held, and then she learned that she could ask to be held or put down. Simply by giving her a cue for both up and down, and allowing her to navigate that while earning her trust that I wouldn’t suddenly change the rules. Even to her last day, she understood the difference between her previous life of being scooped up without warning or consent, and the life I had built for her to accept my offered choice of being held tight to me.

When the vet brought her to me one last time, she was squirming in the vet’s hands to get down. When I offered her the chance to be held, she leapt into my arms and cuddled close. She was delirious with fever and couldn’t hold her own head up, but she still recognized the offer of comfort, and she chose to have her final moments held tight to my chest.

But- that’s not the only consent-based training I practiced with her, or with the various dogs at my job who struggle with the same thing.

In our training videos, you could see me tossing a treat a short distance away to encourage her to leave me. Training can put a lot of pressure on a dog, especially a dog that may be sensitive or struggle with confidence, and the tossed treat provides a “break” from expectations as it allows them to disconnect and disengage, giving them a chance to destress by sniffing, shaking, or running around a bit before returning to you. My general rule of thumb is that if I toss the treat and the dog does not immediately return for more training, they are asking for space or even for a longer break. This is a bit different if the dog is simply distracted by its surroundings- for those, I will encourage them to come back by calling them. But more and more I have found that these sensitive dogs actually develop more and more tolerance to that pressure, because they are allowed to back off when they feel overwhelmed, and rejoin you when they feel more confident. Of course, it is key to keep your training lighthearted and fun regardless, but especially so with these sensitive dogs that need a little extra boost. No one likes learning that feels like a chore.

Another thing I do is during playtime. If I begin to suspect someone is getting too aroused or overwhelmed, I remove the aggressor from the situation and bring them a few feet away. If the recipient does not want to continue the interaction or needs space, they typically will walk away. If instead they come bounding over to harass the aggressor to rejoin play, then the game was fun and everyone was having a good time. If I have removed someone too late for a peaceable interaction (ie: I stepped in as aggressive corrections began happening), then both are taken aside to calm down before being re-released to opposite ends of the play area and they are monitored closely to ensure their next meeting and interaction does not result in a grudge match. I frequently use a three-strikes method with this- you get three chances to not be a giant dick before playtime is over. After that point, you may watch (if you are quiet), but you are outside of the play area and on leash. Very rarely do I need to employ that method more than once before the dog in question connects that dickish behavior = no more fun, and it keeps everyone else safe in the mean time. More often I have dogs that learn how to play appropriately, respond to social cues and minor corrections well, and to alter their play to suit a variety of partners and groups.

I also do this with human-to-dog playtime! Tiki loved biting and wrestling hands, and once again especially with a smaller or more sensitive or less confident dog, it’s easy to accidentally overwhelm or scare or hurt your dog without realizing it. To prevent this, I do push the dog away during a wrestle match. If the dog bounces away from me, or continues to bounce but holds a position just out of reach, then generally that is a cue that they were becoming overwhelmed and need a moment to recover. If the dog immediately pounces on my hands again, then once again the game was fun and everyone was enjoying themselves.

Dogs cannot speak English or any other human language. That’s not to say they don’t understand us, but their ability to say these words are so limited that outside of a handful of studies we truly haven’t seen too many instances of dogs communicating with words we humans can understand. That does not at all mean they cannot consent. I frequently ask the dogs “do you want ___” or similar. While yes, most of the things I ask them are things I’ve built up very positive associations with- a walk, a cookie, their dinner, to go play- the fact remains that all of the dogs in the house are used to hearing us ask if they desire something. Before I give Creed a cookie, I ask if he wants it. Before I take him to potty, I ask if that’s what he needs. Before I offer him something to sniff, I ask if he wants to. There are, in fact, times where I give him something and he spits it out. I ask him, “do you want ___” and sometimes he really does walk away. No, he didn’t want that right now.

It can sound silly, asking dogs what they want, asking for consent, things like that. But it’s also not as difficult of a concept as one might think! Having seen so many dogs aided by these methods and more, I can’t imagine going back to force a dog to do something (non-essential) it genuinely didn’t want to do. What exactly is the harm in allowing your little dog to say no sometimes to being picked up? What exactly is the harm in allowing your sensitive dog to say it needs a break from training? What exactly is the harm in allowing your dog to say it needs a moment to calm down while playing? The harm in not allowing these things is the very real prospect of getting bitten. Allowing them? Don’t really see any negative side-effects.

[annakie]

Patchy

A little under two years ago I made this post, a chronicle of Patchy, the outside feral, turned inside kitty who took ten years to learn to love being petted.

Today we got some bad news.

TW for pet illness under the cut.

Patchy’s always been a bit of a puker, usually oh, say, once a month or so she’d have a good puke for no reason.  I’ve had other cats that are pukers so it’s not that surprising.

In the late winter/early spring I started to notice more frequent pukes.

I’d decided around that time that I needed to find healthier food for my cats, with Leela, the oldest turning 16, Fry turning 11, Pemily turning 7 and Patchy turning, I don’t know, 12 or 13.  No way to really know.  They already got decent food, but I did my research and had started looking at Blue Buffalo, American Journey and Dave’s canned food. 

Patchy had been on a mostly canned food diet since she went to the vet back in early 2020 and had a bunch of teeth pulled.  Also, as a note, Patchy’s brief flirtation with hanging out in the rest of the house ended after like a month.  She and Fry fought too much, and eventually he claimed the rest of the house is his.  He also still thinks the master bedroom should be his, but, Patchy defends that territory well if anyone else encroaches. (The door just stays closed most of the time.)  I really wish they could have all gotten along, I loved having Patchy out, but both Fry and Patchy agreed it wasn’t going to work.

The food she’d been on was pretty junk-food-ish though, which she did love and eat. But I wanted everyone on more or less the same diet and the highest quality food I could readily get them.  So I bought a lot of cans of different kinds of food, and kept a list of which ones seemed to be hits and misses. (I still have a dozen cans of the kind nobody liked -- Blue Buffalo Wilderness Salmon -- I’ve been meaning to take to the city shelter).

Around halfway into this experiment I noticed Patchy puking more, so I decided to try to stick with her favorite kinds, which, I thought was helping.

But once I was fully vaccinated this year, it was time to get all the pets to the vet.  I noticed Patchy had still lost some weight, I thought it was due to switching around her food too much earlier, and tried to stick with the things I felt she really liked.

Then, of course, Leela got sick, spent two and a half days in the pet ER and almost died back in April, and then it was like... yeah we’re done being afraid of COVID, we’re done waiting.  It’s time to get them all their checkups.

My regular vet was doing COVID restrictions so no pet owners inside the clinic back then, so they took Patchy (and the others) in without me.  I thought Patchy had lost some weight, but Dr. B. sounded alarmed when he called me with how much lost she’d lost in the last year, about five pounds.  He wanted to do some bloodwork for Patchy, and I said of course go for it.  

He called back, sounding much calmer and was like “her bloodwork couldn’t be more perfect.  Let’s try switching up her food, get her on some sensitive stomach food and let’s see how she’s doing in a couple weeks.”

So two weeks later it did seem like she was doing better, I called Dr. B back and he said to bring her back in a month.

It was my plan to take her back next week when I had some PTO coming.  I admit, later than planned... my last couple of months have been mucn more focused on Leela... who, thankfully, continues to thrive.  But feeling like my time with her is running out, she’s been my main area of concern.

The last few days though, Patchy has really not been eating well.  Sometimes she does OK, sometimes nothing at all.  And then puking every day.  I swapped her back even to a few cans of the Junk Food (Whiskas) I still had laying around.  She’d eat it... and then puke it up.  And also she... stopped sleeping with me.  I thought... well, it’s summer.  It’s probably too hot to cuddle.  But she stopped laying on the bed.  She stopped coming up for pets when I come to bed and hang out for awhile specifically to spend time with her and pet her.  She runs under the bed again when I come into the room.  It’s like we regressed to three or four years ago... just two weeks after our two year anniversary of getting to pet her.

So this afternoon we went to the vet.  Getting her into the carrier sucked.  I tried nice methods, then I had to scare her into the closet by running the vacuum, and then pretty roughly grab her.  I have scratches and a pretty deep bite on my thumb which either maybe hit a nerve or is infected, may have to go to the doctor for it tomorrow. (Yes, washed it thoroughly with soap as soon as I could.)  I also hated betraying her trust that badly, but it’s for her own good.  But it was rough.

Dr B. wasn’t working so I saw one of the other vets.  I liked him. Also COVID restrictions are gone so I got to go inside. But after talking to him for a few minutes, going over her history and what changes I’ve made, he spent a long time rubbing her intestines (Patchy was perfectly behaved, at least.)   Then he looked concerned.  Then he said let’s do an ultrasound.

A few minutes he came back in and showed me her scans. 

Lymphoma.

I was a bit stunned for a second so I missed a bit of the technical speak he said next, but it came down to the best thing we could do is give her some medicine that may buy her more time.  It doesn’t sound like Chemo or Operating is even really an option.  I’m going to call back tomorrow and see if Dr. B or the vet I talked to can talk me through it a little better now that I’ve had a chance to digest.

If I can get Patchy to take the medicine, and if she responds well to it... she may have 3 - 6 months left.

If she won’t take it, or if she doesn’t respond, it’s at this point, a matter of her comfort and quality of life.  So... weeks.  And I’m worried about getting her to take the medicine, especially since she won’t even come let me pet her and we just had a huge trust betrayal today. I don’t know if I could take her spending her last few weeks hating me, especially if the medicine doesn’t work.

The vet also told me that... I didn’t do anything wrong.  And we did the right thing six or so weeks ago by changing her food and seeing if a few other things worked. Especially with how good her blookwork looked.  He barely felt the cancer today, he said six weeks ago Dr. B wouldn’t have been able to feel it at all.  And for this particular type of lymphoma... there’s not a lot to be done, anyway.  That made me feel better, at least.

(As a really dumb side note, after I got her home, I sat down to eat dinner and watch an episode of Star Trek to take my mind off of all of this since I’d been crying since I found out, paid my bill, and drove home, stopping at a drive through so I didn’t have the mental load of cooking.  And I’m in the middle of my rewatch of Enterprise.  I bet any trekkies reading this can guess what episode was next in my rewatch because yep I’m in season two and A NIGHT IN SICKBAY started playing, of course, so obviously I NOPED THE FUCK OUT OF THAT EPISODE.  For the non-Trekkies.... the Captain has a dog on board, an adorable beagle, Porthos.  The dog gets sick and almost dies and spends his night in Sickbay.  He does pull through.  But the ONE episode centered around a beloved pet getting sick and almost dying... and that’s the episode that fate decreed I was supposed to watch tonight. I did not.  I don’t know if I can watch it anytime soon.)

So now for the next few weeks I will spend my time being grateful that Leela is alive and thriving and pray she keeps doing so -- I will continue to give her extra love and care and attention, and also I will need to do the same for Patchy.  I can’t even do it at the same time because Patchy will not come out here, and will not allow Leela in her room. 

I am low-key freaking out that there’s the possibility of the nightmare scenario happening to me again.  In winter 2016, after months of being sick, I woke up on Christmas morning and my 16-year-old cat Jim had died overnight.  It was terrible, and traumatic, and I had to deal with everything all alone because anyone who could support me was... well, it was Christmas morning and my family was all out of town, too.  Posting about it on Tumblr... actually really helped me, since it’s the only place I felt like I could talk about it.

That Christmas was on a Sunday.

Wednesday morning I woke up to hearing my dog, Cebu, moaning in pain.   I rushed him to the vet, but whatever happened overnight, it was too late, maybe there wasn’t anything we ever could have done even if I’d been awake when the puking started.  The vet said the kindest thing we could do was put him to sleep.  And we did.

Also I just, JUST now realized that the vet who helped put Cebu to sleep was the same vet who I saw today about Patchy.

But I lost two of my pets within 3 days of each other.  I was very lucky that my job let us have the week between Christmas and New Years off that year.  I had a few days to pull myself together, and I needed it.  It took months to recover totally, though.  Every once in awhile I think about that week and I still cry, though.  I miss them both so much and they both had deaths that were less than ideal.

I remember thinking then “I have like, five years of reprive.  Leela will be sixteen in five years, and that’s when I have to start to worry again, when I have to be ready to say goodbye again.”

I thought then that even after that I’d have two or three years until Patchy would leave me, and two or three years past that until Fry.  And then five more years with Pemily.

Right now I’m realizing that I will likely lose Patchy, very best case in six months, but possibly before July is over.

I need Leela to keep thriving.  I don’t know how I would handle losing another two so close together again.

Patchy is... she’s the one who chose me.  I chose my other cats.  Fry and Pemily I plucked from the backyard when they were tiny kittens and brought them inside.  They didn’t have a choice.  Leela I adopted from a rescue, she didn’t have a choice.  Patchy chose to stay.  She chose to stick around when she realized I’d feed her.  It took years but she learned to trust, she chose to come inside when it was cold, when it was hot, when it was storming, and when she was pregnant.  She chose me to help raise the last litter of kittens she’d ever had.  (My entire Rescue Kitties tag is full of adventures in finding, raising and usually adopting out strays. Lots and lots of posts about Patchy and her final litter.  Been awhile since I’ve done it, though.)

I used to joke that Patchy was my roommate, not a pet.  She ate, drank, did her business, and kept to herself for a long time.  Don’t get me wrong, she was a very good, quiet, considerate roommate and I loved her.  But it wasn’t until that wonderful day she let me pet her that I felt like she was my pet. 

I loved having her just hanging out living in the house since 2014, but the last two years especially have brought me such joy.  I’ve tried to never take Patchy’s trust in me for granted.  It was EARNED.  Every small step forward was a milestone to be celebrated. I worked for every bit of trust and love Patchy has given me, and have been rewarded.  And it was worth it.  Every minute.  Every long, patient year.

Even now I’m telling myself... without me, she would have died years ago.  Probably violently, or starved, maybe frozen to death.  Getting to die of cancer brought on by older age is not something that most feral cats ever get to do.  Getting to become an inside kitty where she’s loved, and comfortable for the second half of her life was something remarkable, brought on by her wiles and will to survive for so many years, bolstered by the food I left out for her.  She’s had this much time, this much life, this much comfort and love that she would have never had otherwise, and that’s something to be happy about.

I’ve watched dozens of ferals come and go through my neighborhood throughout the years.  I feed them, I work on seeing if I can get them to trust me enough to let me TNR them, but even those that I have, I don’t keep seeing for much longer.  There’s one right now, I jokingly call him Patchy’s Boyfriend.  He still won’t trust me and never has fallen for the trap when I’ve tried.  But he’s there most nights when I feed him around 11.  He’s getting terribly thin despite the quality food I leave out.  I’ll miss him.

But none of them were Patchy.  None of them became what she is to me. None of them survived long enough to adapt and decide to live another life.

Also?  I wouldn’t have Pemily without her.  Pemily is literally Patchy’s Granddaughter and that is one more thing I love Patchy for.

I feel guilty sometimes, both because I don’t spend nearly enough waking hours with her I feel, but I have three others who need me, as well. One who’s time is growing short, as well.  And they don’t get to sleep with me, she does.  What a joy it was all winter when I would wake up and she’d be sleeping on my chest.  I’d get a bit annoyed when she’d sleep with her backside to my face and her tail would tickle my face and wake me up.  I’m a side-sleeper half the night and she hated that it was harder to get comfortable on me that way.  She still doesn’t want to have my hand just stay on her, she wants pets and skirtches, no long-form touching.  That’s ok.  I sleep better with her weight on me.

I don’t know what the next few weeks or months will hold, but at least pet-wise, it’s going to be rough.  I’m going to wrap this up and give these three out here a good pet, then go hope Patchy comes and asks for love, too.  Tomorrow is one more day with all four of them, and for that, I’ll be grateful, for every remaining day.

#personal post tag thingy #my pets #pet illness tw #pet death tw

[earlysunsetsoverambrose]

Kodachrome (4/5)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader 

Warning: Cursing

You crawled back up into the house from the trapdoor in the office. It was around two in the afternoon nearing the absolute hottest, most miserable time of the day. You made your way to the kitchen to get started on making some lemonade. You made sweet tea yesterday, so it could sit overnight. You figured the boys would enjoy a cool drink with all the heat. You got out the ingredients you bought on your last trip into town.

You juiced the lemons and dumped the sugar straight in and let it dissolve. After adding some water, you put it in the refrigerator to sit for a while so it would hopefully be cold by the time the boys came home. You tossed the peels in the overflowing trashcan only for them to roll right back onto the floor. You sighed, knowing you’d put off taking out the trash for too long now. You stuffed the peels back in and hoisted the bag out and tied it off, hauling it towards the cans out by the side of the house.

You lifted the lid of the trash can as you were about to toss the bag in without a second thought, but a movement from the corner of your eyes stopped you. You looked to your right to spot something scurrying into a beat-up cardboard box with what sounded like a sneeze. You stared at the box for another moment before it rustled again. You let out an involuntary shriek, dropping the lid and the garbage bag as you practically leapt up onto some old milk crates. Perhaps it was an overreaction, but you had no idea what was creeping around while you were minding your own business. You craned your neck to look in the box, but you couldn’t see anything. You let out a sigh as your heart rate slowed once more.

“What’re ya doin’ up on them crates for, Y/N? Is the floor lava or somethin’?” a familiar drawl called out to you, drawing closer. You looked up to see Lester happily making his way toward you with a goofy grin lighting up his face.

“No!” you said as you felt heat rising to your cheeks as you knew how childish you’d sound when you explained to him that you were startled by a small animal and sought the safety of the milk crates, “It so happens as soon as you were walking up I got jump-scared by something hiding in that box over there and I may have overreacted a tad.”

“Aw, that’s nothin’ to be ashamed of. Animals can be sneaky sons-a-bitches at the worst of times. I once near died choking on chili when a rat ran across my boot a few years back.” Lester said supportively.

“I appreciate your understanding. It’s probably nothing.” You said as you moved to step off of the creates.

“Was it this box, here?” Lester asked moving toward the cardboard box without a second thought.

“Yeah, but be careful, we don’t know what’s in there.” You said quickly, gesturing for him to leave it. Lester got on all fours in front of the box and tilted his head to peer inside, “Lester!”

“Well, what’ve we got here? What’re ya doin’ all by your lonesome?” Lester cooed as he haphazardly reached his arm into the box and pulled out a small baby opossum, “Looks like this little girl got left behind?”

“Oh my god, you just scooped it up, like it was nothing!” you said equal parts horrified and amazed.

“I seen plenty of these guys runnin’ around. Ya get used to ‘em eventually.” He said as he held a firm grip on the squirming opossum, so it didn’t scurry off.

“Shouldn’t you at least have gloves or something?” you asked.

“Probably, but this one ain’t gonna hurt me. Are ya?” Lester asked fondly as he addressed the baby in his hands, “You’re too little to hurt a fly, ain’t ya?”

“So, what do we do now? Do we let it go?” you asked, completely clueless on how to rescue a baby opossum.

“Ya kiddin’? We’re eatin’ good tonight! Ever had opossum stew?” Lester said, holding the baby out to you.

“Lester Sinclair, you take it back!” you chastised, with a horrified expression and a light swat to his arm.

“I’m only foolin’, I wouldn’t do that!” Lester said through a belly laugh, “’Sides, she’s too little for that anyway.”

“Then what are we actually going to do?” you asked

“Well, she’s too small to be on her own, but it don’t look like her mama’s anywhere to be found. And I don’t hear any other babies neither.” Lester said as he scanned the area and listened close for any sound, “If she’s here by herself, her mom’s not comin’ back for her.”

“That’s really sad.” You said sympathetically, suddenly feeling a deep emotional bond with the baby that just scared the daylights out of you, “What happens now?”

“I’ll drive her to the animal rescue in town, it’s ‘bout an hour out. If I leave now, I can make it ‘fore they close.” Lester said simply.

“Can I go with you?” You asked, surprising him with your request.

“Well, sure ya can. It’s kind of a long ride there and back, ya sure ya wanna go?” Lester asked.

“Yeah, I know I’m not really any help in this situation, but I want to see this through.” You said excitedly.

“Fine by me!” He said with his classic, toothy grin, “Wanna help me find a box to put her in, so we can head out?”

“Sure!” you answered. As the two of you turned to go into the house you asked, “How’d get to know so much about opossum rescue?”

“Ya wind up meeting a lotta animals that need help, doin’ what I do. Sometimes it’s a relief to find somethin’ that’s still kickin’.” Lester said, “I know it’s rotten bein’ left behind, all alone. Most of the ones I find don’t got no one to look after ‘em, so I try to do what I can.” You felt your heart twist at Lester’s words. He had such a lonely childhood; it was no wonder he felt so much empathy for creatures that just needed someone on their side.  

“You’d make a great vet.” You said

“Ya think?” Lester asked, flattered.

“I know.” You answered, “You’ve got a way with animals.”

The two of you went back into the house with the baby opossum still in Lester’s hold. Bo would kill you both if he ever found out you brought her into the house, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. You found an old shoebox and punched some holes in the top and grabbed some rubber bands from the office before meeting Lester in the kitchen. He was using his free hand to soak up a dishtowel to microwave to make a makeshift heating pad.

“I’ve got the box!” You said, placing it on the counter with the lid and rubber bands.

“Great! I’m almost done over here too.” Lester responded, setting the time of the microwave. “Hear that, won’t be long, now.” He said to the baby opossum, lightly scratching her head. It was ridiculously adorable how nurturing and careful Lester was being. The baby opossum was remarkably calm in his grasp, comfortable even. You picked up your camera from where you left it on the kitchen table and took a quick snapshot of the two of them, their attention trained on one another. Lester looked up at the sound of the click and perked up, “Nifty camera! Where’d ya get that?”

“It was just sitting in the warehouse. I’ve been taking pictures to pass the time, but also because I found an old photo album that was pretty much empty and I wanted to try and fill it.” You said as you placed your third picture in your back pocket.

“Well, I think that’s real nice of ya.” Lester said in awe of your new project. You knew you wouldn’t have to debate with Lester about the importance of photos, unlike his brothers. He was always very supportive and interested when it came to whatever it was you were doing. “I wish I had some pictures.”

“I bet.” You said as your smile faltered for a millisecond, remembering Lester wasn’t in any of the photos you found. You moved toward the microwave and put the now warm towel in a plastic bag and into one side of the shoe box. You put another towel over that and Lester placed the baby opossum in her temporary bed.

“I used to wish I had a picture or two of my parents after they died. Or at least one of me and my brothers to take with me to that other family. But I know my folks were busy, with Bo and Vinny and all.” Lester admitted with a small sigh. He tried to make light of the bleak memory, “I’m frankly surprised I recognized ‘em when they showed up lookin’ for me.”

“Well, I plan on taking a lot of photos. So many in fact, you’ll never forget anything ever again. You can keep the one I just took after it develops if you want.” You offered, hoping it gave him some form of optimism.

“I’d like that! Thanks, Y/N!” Lester said with a smile that lit up his warm, brown eyes. He secured the rubber bands on the shoebox, “Now, let’s get goin’! No time to waste!”

You both went out to Lester’s truck and took off down the road with the boxed baby opossum sitting between you. You were at the animal rescue center in no time. Passing the time with Lester was always so easy since talking to him was a breeze. There was no shortage of conversation topics with him. You even managed to take a few more pictures of each other along the way. On your way back towards Ambrose, you flipped through the pictures you and Lester had taken. You both looked so happy and carefree with the windows rolled down, the wind rustling your hair. You smiled to yourself, embracing the photos close to you. Lester was certainly right. There was no time to waste.

#my writing #House of Wax #house of wax 2005 #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #Kodachrome #tw: cursing #female reader

[zoawrites]

A Walk in the Park

Thanks for the prompt @severeearthquakebanana!

The result is absolute, teeth-rotting fluff and sweetness and I really enjoyed writing it!  🥰

Original Prompt: Rey and Ben are on a walk in a park and find something interesting (said thing can be any noun; person, place, or object)

🐾🐾🐾🐾

The evening was aglow with the soft, amber light of the sun as it sank beneath the horizon. In Rey’s opinion this was the perfect time to walk during spring. Not too warm yet but everything was blooming. Cherry trees blossomed along the sidewalk, as well as daffodils, tulips, and a rainbow of wildflowers. Grass greener than an Irish hill filled out the spaces between; it looked soft enough to wrap oneself in like a blanket. Oaks and maples spread out in the lawns beyond; scattered between the trees were benches and a play area for children which was emptying now as their parents guided them home for the night.

A cool breeze fluttered through the trees, lifting the stray hairs at the nape of her neck, and Rey tucked herself closer into the solid body walking at her side. Ben - who was very likely the love of her life - put his arm around her shoulders.

“Cold?” His deep voice reverberated pleasantly through Rey’s body. “I wish you’d worn a heavier jacket…”

“I don’t need one with you around,” she countered with a grin. “You’re all the warmth I need.”

“Funny from the girl who thought I was colder than a block of ice less than a year ago,” he retorted fondly.

“Time changes us all… Ben.” Rey stopped walking abruptly, gaze fixed on a furry ink blot trotting toward them. “Is that dog by itself?”

“Uh, yeah, looks like it. Rey, no…”

But Rey’s only thought was ‘Rey, yes,’ as she knelt down and called the dog to her in the sweetest, most unthreatening tone she could muster. The dog paused, head tilting one way, then the other, before cautiously moving forward. A cold, wet nose touched Rey’s outstretched fingers.

“That’s a good dog,” she crooned and was gratified to see the creature’s long, slightly curled tail start to wag and it stepped closer. “Oh, who’s a pretty doggie? She doesn’t have a collar.” Rey reported, glancing up at her grimacing boyfriend.

“How can you tell under all that fur?”

Indeed, the dog had a hot mess for a fur coat; tight, black curls which were matted in too many places to count. The fur on her head was smoother - more wavy than bouncy (the same as her tail) - but covered her eyes, which were revealed to be a gentle brown when Rey pushed aside the dark curtain over them. The dog blinked at her, batting the longest eyelashes Rey had ever seen on an animal and charming her completely.

“Ben…”

“We’re not taking it home.”

Rey turned her head up and glared at him. He gave a long-suffering sigh and Rey knew she’d won.

🐾🐾🐾🐾

The next day was spent first at the vet, where Rey had the poor dog checked out - she was fine; surprisingly healthy except for a few cuts that would heal easily with the help of some antibiotics and being thin from malnutrition - and a local groomer. No way was Rey going to leave the dog to suffer from the mats that tugged at her skin. She also splurged on a black and red leather collar… and a few toys…

And a dog bed.

🐾🐾🐾🐾

“Sweetheart, why’d you get a dog bed? We’re not keeping her.”

“She needs a comfortable place to sleep, Ben, since you won’t let her on our bed.”

“She was dirty!”

“Why can’t we keep her?” Rey bounced back to the original statement, scowling at him from her place on the couch. Beside her was the dog, lounging happily against Rey’s thigh with a rope toy in her mouth. Her new haircut made her look like a fluffy black teddy bear and Rey couldn’t have been more in love.

Ben waved an arm aimlessly. “Somebody might be looking for her. What about a chip?”

“The vet checked. She doesn’t have one. I think they left her, Ben,” Rey murmured sadly, stroking the dog’s long nose. “They just… left her.”

Suddenly Ben was on the couch at Rey’s free side and pressed his lips to her temple. “You don’t know that for sure,” he said gently.

Rey did know, she knew it in her bones. Because she’d been left, too.

“Let’s put up some flyers around the park,” Ben suggested. “If we don’t hear anything after a couple of weeks…”

“She’s mine.”

A soft laugh brought Rey’s attention back to Ben. He was smiling at her in a way that brought butterflies to her stomach. “Yeah,” he nodded. “She’s yours.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾

Rey counted the days after putting the first flyers up with a picture of the dog as they’d found her. Ben’s idea; he reasoned her owners might not recognize her with one of the five thousand new photos Rey had taken since the dog had gotten groomed.

So Rey waited, anxiously jumping if either her or Ben’s cell phone rang.

But two weeks passed and no one called to claim the poor dog, who Rey had deciphered was a poodle mix. Smart and clever, but friendlier than any other dog Rey had the pleasure to meet.

On the fifteenth day, Rey officially attached the dog’s new tag on the leather collar. Magpie. Because she was dark as a raven, but insisted on stealing Ben’s socks and hoarding them under the bed.

Or pooping them out, much to his dismay.

As sixteen, then twenty, then thirty days passed by, Rey forgot what life was like before Magpie’s appearance in it. Ben didn’t seem as enthusiastic about having a dog, but he didn’t make anymore arguments against keeping her, most likely knowing full well Rey would battle fiercely for her. And so the dog became a fixture in Rey and Ben’s life, despite Ben’s initial reluctance.

So much so, in fact, that she was a partner in a very special event Ben planned.

🐾🐾🐾🐾

Rey called for Magpie but for longest while the dog didn’t respond. Growing concerned, Rey sought her out, checking the kitchen, the bedroom, the living room, the kitchen again and finally back to the living room. On her third round about the house she heard the tell-tale soft padding of Magpie’s paws and turned with a relieved grin.

“Where have you been, silly girl?” she chastised gently. “I was starting to get worried.” Rey knelt to give the dog a scratch behind the ear, but her fingers brushed against something tied to her collar. Frowning, Rey tugged at the thing, which came loose easily, to find it was a small, black velvet box.

A soft noise behind her startled Rey so that she whipped around and gasped.

Ben was on one knee, a sheepish, nervous smile on his handsome face.

Eyes darting between the box and him, Rey understood suddenly what was happening.

Moments later, Magpie danced around the embracing couple, barking merrily as she tried to catch the light reflecting off Rey’s sparkling ring.

🐾🐾🐾🐾

Author’s Note: 

Magpie is inspired by my beloved goldendoodle, Maggie, who crossed the rainbow bridge a little over a year ago. I’ve been meaning to write her into a story and she decided to appear in this one. I hope y’all enjoyed it! ❤️

#reylo #reylo fic #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfiction #reylo au #reylo prompt #reylo fluff #teeth rotting fluff #zoawrites #zoasworks #zoa speaks #severeearthquakebanana

[stressedspidergirlsfandomblog]

"So, Ciri, you'll stay over with your friend, and they'll bring you back with the horse trailer tomorrow, right?" Yennefer asked, watching as the girl finished wiping down a counter.

"Yes, that way you guys can 'unpack' all night, and then in the morning I can give Geralt his housewarming gift from us."

"From you," Yennefer smiles. "He got a property with a barn and pasture because he wanted space for a horse or two and you know it. And it was your idea, and you found the horse. I'm not taking any of the credit. It's your gift."

"I don't know if we have everything...."

"Jaskier has friends who are working in the barn right now to make sure it's ready, they've already carted up feed, and Jaskier and I picked out a saddle and all the other necessary tack. I know a vet, they've already looked over the horse... Ciri. We've prepared as well as he can. You know as well as I do he knows everything about horses."

"We don't know if he's ever ridden one," she protests, slightly nervous.

"Then he'll learn. We have friends who ride. How many times have we had to listen to his lectures about horses, their place in changing society, and how inaccurate a lot of things about the care on TV and books-"

"I know. I know, Mom. Alright. We'll bring the horse over around breakfast time. And then he can name her and we can stop calling her "the horse"." She dumps her rag in a bucket of cleaning solution. "I'm gonna check my bag is packed, they should be here any minute."

Yennefer kisses her cheek and they hug quickly. Yennefer had taken the evening off, and would be leaving soon. She'd even handed over the next few days to her assistant, to help finish moving and unpacking the new house.

She and Jaskier had discussed Geralt had been doing extremely well and would probably crash soon. He'd been helping with moving furniture and boxes no problem. He was plenty strong, it was just more that his body liked to betray him when he used it too often. He would need some down time, and it would be easier to stop him from pushing himself if he didn't feel like he had to be the perfect dad for Ciri and get everything ready as quickly as possible. With her busy he would slow down some.

Jaskier planned to stay at the house to get some things ready -part of another surprise for Geralt. He was setting up a room for Geralt to use as an office and bedroom for when he needed a private place to be to decompress.

Yennefer wasn't giving up her loft above the shop, and Jaskier travelled, so while they had a bedroom they would share at the house, Geralt would be the only one without a space that was truly his. Unless they made him one.

Ciri's room and the kitchen had been set up first. Then their shared bedroom was almost done, so really it was just the main living areas and then... Their surprise for Geralt.

Supposedly, he was at his apartment, finishing up any last minute packing so and also taking time to rest. He hadn't been sleeping well, all the stress of moving got to all of them in different ways but his was insomnia.

Yennefer saw Ciri off, then about an hour later she left the shop to go check on Geralt. They were donating the ratty couch and bed, and she couldn't wait for him to see the new bed they'd picked for his room. Even if she had a feeling he wouldn't need to use it for a while yet.

He was asleep on the couch in question, looking paler than usual. She didn't bother to wake him, but did a quick round of the apartment, satisfied the packing was finished. They wouldn't need to come back to do anything other than clean.

She had brought tea from the shop and a cup of soup. Against her better judgement she woke him to make sure he ate and drank.

They curled up together after he finished his meal. She couldn't wait for the morning but if she betrayed her excitement he would get suspicious.

She smiled when she got a text from Jaskier saying the room was ready. "Let's take the last load with us, the donation crew is coming for the furniture Wednesday, so we don't need to worry about that."

"It'll be good to be done," he told her wearily.

"Yes, it will. Last load. Okay?" She kissed his cheek and stood up.

Between the two of them they got the car loaded and drove to the house. Jaskier greeted them at the door with kisses.

It was easy enough to get the car unloaded and Geralt steered into the master bedroom, and tucked into bed. Jaskier joined him while Yennefer checked over the other room, pleased to see everything looked perfect. Satisfied, she joined them in the bedroom.

They didn't break in the bed quite how they'd planned, considering Jaskier fell asleep before she got back. Unbothered, she and Geralt curled up and went to sleep.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geraskier #geralt z rivii #yenneralt #geraskefer #dandelion #yennefer of vengerberg #yenneferalt #cirilla fiona elen riannon #cirilla of cintra #herbalist au #spidergirlsfic

[anogete]

In Between

Hi, folks.  I’m sorry I have nothing to offer as far as fic goes.  Things have been... ::sigh::  You know, I don’t know what things have been.  Not good, not bad.  Just... things.  I wanted to talk--get things out of my head--this morning, but I realized I don’t have a person/outlet who can accept these things right now.  So, I will put them here for anyone who cares to read them.

1) My car blew up.  Well, the engine did.  I was on my way back home with groceries last Saturday, and I lost all ability to accelerate and brake.  So, I puttered out on the side of the road and waited to be saved.  The issue may be covered under the warranty so I had it taken to the dealership.  They’ve had it for a week and still don’t have answers for me besides an offer to lend me a car for free until they can figure out what to do with my car.

2) This deserves it’s own point, though I almost included it on the first point.  I’ve never bought a car without my grandmother.  She was under five feet tall and had a tendency to wear sweat pants and Christmas sweaters year-round.  She smoked Winston Lights and carried a purse covered in rhinestones.  The car salesmen didn’t know what hit them because she wasn’t at all the sweet old lady who would roll over and accept their first offer.  She was hard to read and she wouldn’t give an inch.  She also wouldn’t tell them what she was willing to pay.  No counter offers from her; she’d just tell you to “do better.”  Anyway, she worked her magic when I bought all three of my cars.  When I realized the problem with the engine was serious and might require me getting a new car, I went into a mental tailspin.  Yeah, yeah, I was worried about fitting it into my budget and all that, but mostly I couldn’t seem to cope with buying a car on my own without my grandma there to hold my hand.  I’m almost 39 years old and the thought of doing this without her had me sobbing in the floor.  Except, I didn’t realize my tailspin was due to my grandmother at first.  At first, I just thought I was incapable of handling stress.  Maybe that’s still accurate.

3) While we’re talking about expensive-ass shit, I knew the air conditioner and furnace on this house needed to be replaced sooner rather than later when I bought it last February.  It looks like the time has come.  I managed to find a nice man with very odd hair (think a longer version of the Prince Valiant hair-do, but bright white) through my boyfriend’s dad.  He does this for a living and said he’d give me a discount and do for $5,000 what other places were telling me would cost $9,000.  So, that’s happening next week.  I have the money, but the idea of writing a $5,000 check makes me want to puke.  Ugh.

4) The days are running together.  I’m working from home.  I can’t complain, though.  I’ve got it better than most.  I’m alone all day.  I have a library with a desk.  I can go downstairs and make tea or lunch in my own kitchen.  I’m getting paid my full salary with bonuses.  I can pretty much make my own hours.  The company I work for is taking the pandemic seriously and has told us that we can all work from home until we feel comfortable returning to the office.  Their timeline for “normal” is months.  I don’t think I’ll be back in the office until late summer, if that.  Those who want to return are permitted to, but they can’t use the public areas (kitchen, conference rooms) and have to abide by some strict safety requirements.  And they can choose when and how often they go into the office, working the remainder of the time at home.  So, better than most.

5) I’ve been doing this social distancing thing since March 19th.  It’s not difficult for me.  On good days I’ll exercise (I have a Peloton) before logging into work around 9am.  On not-good days (which seem to be more often than not), I’ll skip the exercise and just log into work early.  Work keeps me busy and I spend a decent amount of my day on the phone with clients.  I go to the grocery store once a week, but I order for pickup.  Someone else does the shopping for me and loads it into my trunk.  This is nothing new.  I’ve been shopping that way for years.  Now it’s just harder to get my usual pickup slot because everyone else has joined the party.  I do miss taking a break from work and leaving my office to grab a coffee and sit outside on a bench downtown.  I guess I could do that outside my own house, but it just doesn’t feel the same.

6) A few months ago, a husband and wife who are clients came in to meet with me at my office.  They’re in their 80s and both were having trouble walking.  They parked in the garage next door and couldn’t find the elevator to exit.  I walked over and escorted them to our office building.  They were both struggling with walking and the wife (Rose) had been fighting lung cancer for a couple years, so I suggested they wait outside and I’d valet their car once we were done.  The thought of making the trek to their car alone was painful to me because it was a monumental struggle for them to walk down a hallway.  Their daughter-in-law called me two days ago.  Rose passed away two weeks ago.  The husband, a former literature professor for a university, was in the hospital with four broken ribs because he’d fallen shortly after Rose’s passing.  He was a Jewish child in Nazi Germany during the war.  He’d told me stories about hiding from the Nazis, surviving off of tree bark and whatever he could find in the forests.  He also jokingly told me that he’d live until he was 120.  Now, it looks like he won’t survive the year.  He and Rose would tease each other all the time, but you could see all that love between them. Whenever I’d call him, he’d ask me in that wonderful accent to wait while he got “the boss” on the phone as well.  Rose thought it was silly that she was “the boss,” but she humored him.  You know, they’re shorties, too.  Five foot, nothing.  Just like my grandma.  Hearing that Rose was gone and Dr. (he’s a PhD) was likely soon to follow just broke my already fragile heart.

7) Fragile heart, huh?  Yeah.  After the car situation and the realization that one day I’m going to have to do big life things without having my grandma to help me, I was feeling pretty raw.  But I’ve been trying to be responsible and do things I’ve been putting off lately.  So, I gathered up all those medical bills from Ferguson’s illness last September.  (Ferguson was my soulmate little chihuahua mix that I had for over 13 years.)  I had pet insurance on him and hadn’t bothered to make the claim because I couldn’t handle it.  But it’s been almost a year so I pulled out the invoices, which were over $2,000, and logged into the website and starting inputting the info to file the claims.  The little box asks for a description of why I took him to the vet.  And answering that question just brought back all that shit like a wave.  I remember reading this nice description of grief and how it is like waves.  At first they’re big and they knock you around and you can’t breathe.  But over time they get smaller and you learn how to navigate them.  Still there, but manageable.  Filling in that box resulted in a bit of a tidal wave that knocked me on my ass.  My boyfriend came home to find me sobbing at my desk like a lunatic..  He’s... not so good with emotional shit.  And I usually keep it bottled up so that no one knows what’s going on inside me.  But some days...  Some days it just overflows.  So, after confirming that nothing terrible had occurred and that I was reliving September 2019, he slowly backed out of the room to leave me with my grief-wave.

8) I want to be one of those succulent people.  You know, the ones who have succulents lining their windowsills.  The dining room and kitchen windows are full of this oddball little plants.  The boyfriend hates it, but I told him he’d have to deal.  I’ll die on this hill.  I’m a succulent lady.

9) I’ve been reading memoirs or, rather, memoirs through collections of essays.  I don’t know if it’s the mental state I’m in or if social distancing has got me subconsciously reaching out for life beyond my head, but I can’t seem to read much else.  I loved Liz Phair’s Horror Stories.  I’m reading The Book of Help by Megan Griswold right now.  I’m determined to procure a signed copy of What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker by Damon Young.  He did a virtual event for a local bookseller recently and they have signed copies available for purchase.  I just need to muster up the will to call them and ask them to hold one for me.  The little snippets of their life and experiences via these memoirs through essays bring me some measure of comfort.

10) I tried to watch Euphoria on HBO.  I managed to make it through the first episode, but I don’t think I can watch more.  I can’t relate, but that normally isn’t a necessity for an enjoyable story.  Maybe it’s just too depressing for me right now.

11) I binged Dollface on Hulu and wish I had more to watch.  Parts of it hit me hard.  I’ve always had trouble maintaining friendships, period.  But maintaining friendships while in a relationship has been damn near impossible for me.  Just like Jules.  Except, I’m not nearly as cool or gorgeous as Kat Dennings.  And I have no friends in this city to go back to.  Just friends at work. 

12) I haven’t worn makeup for 2 solid months.  I’m starting to miss it.  I found old selfies I’d taken in which I don’t recognize myself.  Did I ever look like that?  I must have since here is photographic evidence.  I look like shit now.  I’m forever in yoga pants and a hoodie with half-wet hair from the shower.  Maybe putting on a pair of jeans and a cute shirt and some makeup will make me feel like a human being again.  Maybe I’m not doing as well as I thought in quarantine.  Huh.

13) I hope you all are well.  If you’ve sent me a message, I’m so sorry for not responding.  My mental state has been delicate lately and the silence from me has nothing to do with your kind words.  I promise I read and treasure and appreciate anything that is sent to me.  I’m also sorry for having no offering of fic or a promise of something to come.  I haven’t written since last summer.  It’s been almost a year.  I guess I’m in a dry spell.

14) Since I’ve been struggling with loss/grief lately, I’ll leave you with a quote from Philip Pullman, taken from his novel The Amber Spyglass.  It’s about death, I suppose.  Or maybe just a transition to something else entirely.  It’s nice to think of my grandma and Rose and my sweet, sweet love of a dog falling in the raindrops and riding on the wind through tall grass.  If it wasn’t raining, I’d take my computer outside right now.

“Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.” 

#Anogete in real life #personal #coping with grief #Mental health where did you go #adulting #struggle bus

[bloodybells1]

Lucky Dog

                    No philosophers so thoroughly comprehend us as dogs and horses.

                                                                                            —HERMAN MELVILLE

I look into the eyes of an animal. 

I am in the habit of doing this with a little Brussels Griffon by the name of Casca, my canine, whose gentle orbs and spunk and flexibility make me forget that he is in fact a dog and not a cross between an Ewok and a Koala.

Not right now, though. These are different eyes, the ones of a Maltese crossed with a West Highland Terrier, peering through a curtain of matted hair draping over his brow, as he lays back on my futon. He has jumped up here as I lay down on it, after having flipped onto his back in a split second, in what seemed to have been a familiar move, so natural and quick. It was a gesture of near total compliance. He was egging me to stroke his belly. 

There was something deep about his gaze, somewhat simian in intelligence, communicating a kinship, but difficult to pin down. If this creature hadn’t the capacity to at least conceive of complex, putatively human emotions and other states of mind—like fear, relief, care, or pleasure—lacking only a verbal means to communicate them, then everything that I was seeing in his eyes, the layers of thought and feeling, were just a coincidence of Mother Nature, some thing that animals do which I don’t have access to, but which I insist I do in the form of anthropomorphization. 

Yet, that doesn’t seem possible: the facsimile is too close. These have to be the same things, or similar things, that we humans feel, that I am now sensing coming from this upturned canine lying on my lap on the futon.

At this point in the story, the dog’s name is Sammy. 

Sheri, the woman who’d found him on the street, had posted on the NextDoor forum hoping that someone might claim him. She’d grabbed him on the corner of Broadway and 177th. The dog was in a panic, chaotically searching for his owner, crossing the street with his leash in tow, and she’d scooped him up and brought him to her nearby apartment. Sheri’s domestic situation precluded a canine presence: she wanted to find the owner of the dog, but more urgently, she needed someone to foster him in the meantime. Otherwise, she’d have to put him in a shelter. My girlfriend Bernie and I had taken pity and responded, offering ourselves as foster parents for the interim. We’d hold him until the owner showed up or until he’d otherwise find a permanent home. 

We’d started calling him Buddy, but Sheri had asked he be named something with an “S,” so Bernie suggested “Sammy.” 

And Sammy is taking this house by storm.

As it turns out, I’d met Sheri once before, though neither of us know this during our Zoom call. She’s leaning back on the headboard of her bed with the soon-to-be monikered Sammy laying supine, his favorite position, by her side. Bernie’s been texting with Sheri and now she and I are talking to Sheri over Zoom to take a look at Sammy, who is all but glowing through the screen, despite his matted hair which, even on the call, looks as though it's never once been brushed. 

I’m having that funny feeling you get when someone seems familiar and you can’t quite place why, until later on in the conversation Sheri tells us her address and a little about her job and I put two and two together and realize she’s the wife of a good friend, a fellow actor and writer named Michael who lives in the neighborhood. I know that Michael’s wife is a make-up artist for various TV shows and—bam—the memory of having briefly met her outside her apartment building once before enters my head.

“Oh my God, this is going to sound creepy but I know who you are, Sheri. I know your husband. I know your son’s name. I’ve actually met your son. Benjamin, right? I’ve been to your house.”

Sheri’s jaw creeps open in amazement over the coincidence and I add with ironic omniscience, “I know everything about your life.” 

“Wait . . . what? For real?” Sheri is having a hard time processing all of the information but immediately knows what to do next, which is to walk out of her bedroom and open Michael’s study. My friend’s familiar bookshelves and wall art come into view of the camera.

“Honey, look who I have on Zoom.” 

Michael turns around and sees who’s on the other side and yells out my name, happy over the coincidence, as I am as well. 

We come right over to pick up Sammy and it’s a nice reunion during a bleak pandemic year when I’ve been seeing very little of people outside of my three-block radius. 

It seems that Sammy’s a bit of a good luck charm. He’s bringing people together. Bernie and I are taking him around the neighborhood, to the park just a block above our apartment and everyone is asking who this precious, white-haired creature is. 

“We don’t know!” we keep saying. “Our friend found him in the street.”

“Are you going to keep him?”

“We don’t think so.”

“But he’s getting along so well with Casca.”

Indeed he is. He’s friendly. But Sammy’s also timid and nervous. He is after all, a strange dog in a strange land. I can’t imagine what must be going through his head. Who are these strange people? What is this strange neighborhood? Where are my owners?

That’s the thing. The owners. 

We’re not so sure whether, in fact, there are any. We hear stories about how animals are often deposited in the city, right on the street, by callous owners with little patience—and little humanity—who then drive off and disappear, leaving the poor animals to be discovered by locals. 

Some of Sammy’s details align with those stories. He was discovered not far from the George Washington Bridge, which would lend credence to the account of a disinterested owner from some place in, say, Westchester, who’d decided that Sammy had become a liability they could no longer sustain and who had left him in Washington Heights just before taking the quick way out into New Jersey over the bridge. Sammy’s coat is also completely tangled, with small knots, very much like dreadlocks, peppered throughout, with dirt and lint encrusted within, which suggests a type of neglect that might align with the story of someone who no longer wanted him. He also smells profoundly of urine, though this is likely to have happened from having to spend a night alone, if that is even the case. We just don’t know. Finally, it is abundantly clear that Sammy has not been neutered.

But there’re other details that don’t lend credence to that story. It only takes a couple of hours with him to see that Sammy, who is responsive and trusting and loving, had been cared for deeply by whomever had had him. He was loved. A quick pull on his lower lip reveals pristinely clean teeth, as well. Yes, he’s nervous, and he keeps pulling on his leash like a caught snapper. Every time we walk him he juts around like he’s on a desperate hunt. He has an air of desperation, a vigilance for possibly familiar faces that might pop out any second. But he looks at you with an unmistakable sense of domesticity. And he’s clearly house trained. 

Sammy definitely has an owner. Someone who loves him. Of that we are certain. 

So then why was he running around on the street? Sheri says that when she grabbed him on the sidewalk he was so scared and confused that he jumped into a car, idling and double-parked, at random, surprising the passengers before being pulled back out by Sheri. It’s obvious that he was in a car just before he was lost. He’s looking at every car, every vehicle that passes by, almost as if to check the make and model, hoping against hope it’s the one that left him in this frightening place.

I think back to a woman I used to care for. I was volunteering for an agency, ComForCare, seeing to social needs for seniors, primarily those living alone. She lived in an elder care facility in the Upper West Side. She wasn’t all that much older, but she had a severe case of schizophrenia, for which she was heavily medicated. She was a lovely lady with a sense of humor and a deep appreciation of art. We used to go to the movies and to the Met. She had difficulty holding conversations for a sustained period and she hoarded. It had been bad enough that her old apartment had needed to be professionally cleaned out. I saw it once and was given a window into what real hoarding looks like: stacks of books up to the ceiling, along with opaque grime on the walls. Still, she was lucid and functional enough to be able to take her car out when she wanted to go for a drive, she could order food and sit through a movie and extemporize about it afterwards and she could use the bus if she needed to commute around the city. 

It occurred to me that, had she been moved to, she could have had a dog. She could’ve seen to its needs, fed it, stroked it, watered it, and otherwise cared for it. But the dog would, like Sammy, have borne traces of a style of care that is not regarded as, shall we say, complete. 

My theory was that someone with a condition misplaced him. There’re all sorts of humane concerns regarding cleanliness and desexing which take only a couple of Google searches to discover. Therefore, so I reasoned, though Sammy was loved, he nonetheless had been neglected, and only a mental illness may account for the discrepancy. This person likely became disoriented in an unfamiliar neighborhood; perhaps they’d needed to pull over unexpectedly, and hadn’t realized that all of a sudden Sammy wasn’t in the car and drove away. They hadn’t realized it until it was too late, and were now frantically searching around for him, most likely not able to make the right calls to the right places, for “obvious” reasons. The poor owner, I thought, unable to do the right thing. Or maybe they were about to make the call to us. Who really knew? We were just theorizing. 

Or maybe I had it all wrong and it was actually much simpler. Maybe the owner just straight up forgot about Sammy. 

Sheri’s put up fliers within a two-block radius of where she found Sammy. She’s gone into several vets office’s in the area with news of the found dog. Bernie takes a picture of Sammy on our couch, staring at the camera as though his owner might pop out of the lens. He looks lost, even though he’s been found. He is lost, of course; but we have found him. And we’re seeing to it that he gets to where he belongs. So we follow suit with Sheri’s efforts and post the picture of Sammy with a notice on the largest Facebook group for lost dogs in Manhattan. We also register him with a local shelter which will post his photo and his information on their website. We’re like scientists at the SETI Institute, sending out radio waves into the vast ether, expecting a response from the deep, hoping that if there’s anyone out there searching for us, they will now be able to find us.

We’ve given Sammy a much-needed bath. I didn’t want to just throw him into the bathtub after all that he’s been through, so I waited several smelly hours while he lay next to me before we scrubbed him down. He ran around the apartment like he had a rash, scraping and rubbing his body against any surface he could find, the bottom of the sofa, the rug, the futon, while we chased him around with a towel, trying our best to alleviate that weird feeling dogs get when they’re wet. Casca, ever the Ewok, just sits, enraptured by the sight, like an older brother watching from the sidelines. After Sammy calms down I do my best to brush his hair but the dreadlocks make a proper brushing impossible. Still, he looks much better. In light of everything else it’s pretty inconsequential, but I go ahead and schedule an appointment with Casca’s groomer. I want Sammy to look as spiffy as possible in case the owners don’t show and we need to start finding him a new home.

Bernie takes off from work and brings Sammy to the vet. We need to find out if he has a HomeAgain microchip, that tiny piece of tech injected in between a puppy’s two scapulae, often during the first vet visit, the universally recognized system for canine and feline identification. If he has a microchip, it will lead us to his owner. They could be just a phone call away. 

Bernie’s away for hours. Patients are not permitted inside the vet’s office during the pandemic and instead must wait outside while the dog is seen indoors. Vets are overloaded (everyone’s getting a dog for companionship during quarantine). Wait times are much longer than usual. She’s basically gone half the day. I’m sitting in the apartment with Casca, who is oddly quiet. I know him well enough to know the kind of quiet he’s in. It’s the “where’s Sammy” type. I have it too. I’m actually missing Sammy.

But it soon won’t matter that Sammy, indeed, has never been given a microchip. 

It’s the day after the vet visit and I’m sitting with Sammy in my study, his head resting on the futon by my side. Bernie comes in with the news: “Sheri says that the owners have contacted her.” 

My heart sinks. It’s Day Three of the Sammy Show and I take note of my awful disappointment, how crestfallen I now am, that the possibility he may be out of our lives very soon is here. 

“Sheri’s asking them questions, to prove they’re the rightful owners,” Bernie adds. 

“Yes,” I respond, in a tone not unlike hasty justice seekers at a trial convinced that the murderer has been found and that the jury must cast its verdict responsibly. “We need to see pictures and they have to confirm the color of his harness and leash.” 

I catch myself sounding stern and paternalistic, like an eye witness to the crime defying an alternative account. Who are these people claiming to be his owners? I’m not about to let him go. The killer has been found, I think to myself, Sammy was abandoned and justice demands that he be fostered and adopted. Whoever says otherwise—like the killer claiming innocence—has the burden of proof against them.

Sammy senses something’s afoot. We know this about him already. Earlier in the day Bernie had gone out on an errand and about a minute before she returned, Sammy had “sensed” that she was headed back and sat upright with his ears pricked. One of my favorite thinkers, a spiritualist-scientist by the name of Rupert Sheldrake, ran a study about this phenomenon and published his results in a book called, unironically, Dogs that Know When Their Owners are Coming Home. Apparently, it’s a thing, and Sammy, by my estimation, is particularly tuned to this frequency. 

He’s whining and agitated all of a sudden, as Bernie and Sheri are on the phone with each other to compare notes on the photos the owners claiming him have sent. He really knows something’s up when we bring his harness into the room to compare it with the photo. He’s hopping off and back on the futon in a restless state that seems to signify his premonition that the family he loves dearly is one step closer to him finally. This is a dog who has not let go of his owners and has stayed vigilant, even as he’s been nothing but a sweetheart during his stay, a stay that is now painfully coming to an end. 

The photos lineup perfectly. He looks a little different, but that’s because they were taken when he’d just been groomed. But his harness is identical. There’s no denying it. These are the owners. 

Bernie and I look at each other and shake our heads. Like some waking dream, we become aware of a journey, a kind of psychic binge, for which we’d previously had no awareness. Without knowing, we’d consented to fork over our brains and our hearts to go on an emotional rollercoaster, a ride that is now slowing down and edging into the landing bay. It had all been going too fast for us to take real notice of what it was all about. Only in the end do we now see that we’d lost ourselves. 

Now that we know that Sammy will be back with a family who loves him, whom he wants to be with more than us, that we are no longer Sammy’s protectors, we let the judgement rip: 

“What the hell? How do you lose a dog? I can’t believe this! This is so upsetting. The negligence!” 

Things go negative. 

It never mattered while he was in our charge. Negative thoughts were like passing clouds. We wanted to keep the skies clear for Sammy. He was our responsibility and we wanted to protect him. He’d already been through enough. So we didn’t care too much for passing judgement. After all, we weren’t even sure who these people were or what were the circumstances. It was all speculation. What mattered was Sammy’s safety. 

But the moment has arrived and therefore we feel free to be angry. We want justice for our pains. We want accountability. All of a sudden, we are keenly preoccupied with the wages of the vast emotions we have expended on Sammy. 

Then it passes, the initial blast of ire gives way to reason. We come to our senses. 

“Of course mistakes happen.”  

And who are we to judge? 

And so we are left with the brutal phenomenon, unadorned by the needs of the dog, the care which we’d now finally finished giving. He is safe now. We can be free to look after ourselves. The only thing that’s left is grief. 

“Tell them to come meet us as soon as possible,” I tell Bernie, meaning that she should tell Sheri, who’s in contact with them. They are desperate to get their dog back. A couple who live in New Jersey. The husband is texting with Sheri, begging to be allowed to pick him up. His family has been broken by the loss and he wants to heal, he says. I can’t deny the obvious show of vulnerability. I want the reunion to happen as soon as possible. But first I need to eat.

The tears flow down my cheeks swiftly. We finish dinner in silence as Sammy watches us patiently from the sofa. I have to look upwards to try to think of other things, to stay the onrush of salty teardrops. We gather our things and put on our coats and I almost lose it and let a couple quakes of my sternum pass through me before pulling myself together. 

It’s that old feeling again, like when my old boy Gaius passed two years ago from lymphoma after just having turned thirteen. That sudden loss. That sharp removal. The very quick evacuation of something within, and the consequent hollowness that emerges, as though you were a sack of something meaty and full, a container that held large books or hefty Christmas toys, only for that container to be suddenly relinquished of its contents, contents which evaporate somehow, now nowhere to be found, leaving you with a newfound emptiness. 

What is this bond, this decade-and-a-half long relationship that severs with such sudden brutality? 

Why do we do it, undertake to care for these creatures? Creatures, by the way, who inevitably will betray us with their short lives, and, furthermore, whom we shall likewise betray by replacing them with descendants after they die, with heirs to their vests and doggy bowls and chew toys and harnesses who are themselves doomed to renew the fifteen year cycle. We can’t refurbish our pets, so we hand them in to God and buy a new one from the breeder or adopt one from the shelter. They last as long as the average car, which we also replace with a shiny, new version. When Gaius passed I lasted only a month without a dog, unlike, say, some of my neighbors who could not live down the memory of their old dog, who could not so readily renew the pact. 

Sometimes I see my rush to replace as a sign of disingenuousness, for if the love were as true as I say to myself and the world that it in fact is, how could I replace my dog? Aren’t I lying to myself in thinking that Casca, who came into the house as a two-month-old ball of fur, practically on the heels of Gaius’ deathbed, receives an authentic love? Isn’t love more weighty? doesn’t it come with heavier strings? Are these just playthings that garner my obsession and adoration, but not my true heart? Isn’t this a fantasy? Aren’t they just animals, expendable lifeforms, just pets? When I exchanged those pregnant glances with Sammy on my futon, wasn’t I just staring into the eyes of a mere animal? 

There lies an epistemic gulf between Homo sapiens and Canis familiaris. It is a relation bereft of semiotics. They don’t even know what is happening around them. We, as their keepers, hold the light of truth, we grant them access to the benefits of our civilization, the very same benefits that first brought them to us, when scraps thrown from the Paleolithic hearth lured those friendlier wolves, those beasts who’d decided to sever their Darwinian program and break for the humans, who’d opted for the good life outside the law of the jungle and chose to linger with these powerful pack leaders in control of fire and food. They will never know any of this. Unlike our children, whom we may teach our ways, into whose brains we implant the needs of our legacies, whom we teach our languages and whose cooperation we induce, who will be free to continue it or change it or revolutionize it as will be their wish after we pass, our dogs share no such beneficence and will live out their days in the dark, their small brains incapable of absorbing the mandates of our times. Everything they live for dies with them. Nothing gets left behind. No records. No tapes. Nothing they can fashion in their names, no society they can consciously call their own to leave behind. 

The fact, then, that, in the midst of this gap, this uncrossable line, something does indeed cross, makes the thing that crosses, that special communication, that comprehension of which Melville spoke, all the more special. Even as there is nothing to say between us but that nonetheless just about everything is said speaks to the power of connection. 

Whenever a dog looks into your eyes it is saying this: 

I have no need for your ways. They are nothing to me. I do not even know what they are. 

And I do not care. I only care about this. 

The artist Banksy used to share uplifting memes on his Twitter account. One of them showed a picture of a man and a dog on a hillside overlooking a bay with ships on the horizon and two thought clouds positioned over their heads respectively. The human’s thought cloud was full of worry and preoccupation: will they call back? Have I paid the rent? What should I do after this? The canine’s was simply a facsimile of the very scene before which the two were sitting: a bay with ships on the horizon. The caption read: And we wonder why they are always the happy ones. 

With each glance exchanged, a dog returns to sender (without opening) the merciless crux of our hubris and ambition, throughout history, throughout life. The dog says, “No thanks.” It does this by reaching into our souls with the only truly meaningful thing in life: connection. Despite your best efforts, the dog says, I am still connecting with you.

It says nothing suspicious that we replace these creatures after they die, that we invite new babies into the home, even as their predecessors have only recently passed. You still need friends and relatives when someone near and dear has passed. The same goes for animal energy. Another dog is only the continuation of the much larger bond between the species. It is a way to honor the very possibility of the bond in the first place. At least it was for me. I almost felt that Gaius, were it possible for him to express the conditional, would have wanted me to find another dog, to renew the pact between us in the form of another one of his kind. 

The grief is worth it, if only to repay the species for what it bestows us, the respite from the constant distraction of civilization, of society, of rules and of niceties. It is worth it for the love they bring, hermetically encased from all that would corrupt it from without, right to our doorstep. It is worth it for the break. For the truth.

 We lead Sammy back to Sheri’s apartment. Or rather, he leads us. He’s tugging on the leash. He knows he’s headed home. Sheri’s organized his triumphant return to the family with whom he belongs and with whom he is desperate to be reunited. I am still holding back tears as I try to keep him at bay, as he continues to zig and zag. Casca keeps approaching him, almost as if to ask, Hey man this has been so much fun I hope we can be pen pals. It’s cold and noisy in the streets.

We arrive at Sheri’s and stay in the lobby and the family comes in and Sammy sees them and runs at them at full speed, his tail vibrating like a tuning fork. He jumps up and they catch him. It’s a man and a woman, a couple, and their adolescent child, hanging in the back. The man tries to give us a reward but we refuse. We don’t wish to deny him the opportunity to be grateful, but we also don’t want to take money for what we’ve done. If anything, we should be giving him a reward. 

The woman recounts the story of noting the day of his grooming appointment and that he was still missing and she starts crying. Apparently, Sammy has a brother who’s been missing him, though they didn’t bring the canine with them. Bernie hands the gentleman an envelope with all of the info from Sammy’s vet visit: he now has a microchip and some shots. They can sort out what to do next for Sammy. He’s only eighteen months old, the woman says, so it’s not too late to get him neutered. Sheri needs to spend some time emphasizing how jumpy Sammy is and that he requires incredible vigilance. “He’s a flight risk,” she says, making sure they know what she’s trying to say to them, that is, to be more careful. 

This prompts the man to recount the story of how he lost Sammy. He dropped off his daughter just down the block and got back into his car. He drove through New Jersey and into Pennsylvania and only then noticed that Sammy was not in the car. Believing that he’d lost him at a rest stop in Lodi, New Jersey, he sent out his notices over there. It only occurred to him several days later that Sammy had jumped out of the car in Manhattan, after which he consulted the Facebook page where we’d posted his photo and was able to finally locate his dog. 

He tells this story with a nonchalance I find insufficiently penitent. The anger starts to curdle within. Every time I get in the car with Casca, I think to myself, I am looking at the back seat to see if he is ok, every five minutes, or less. How do you lose a dog and cross two states and only then realize your own dog is no longer in the car? How is that even possible? It escapes me, and because it escapes me it makes me want to scream at the guy, scream at the family. I think about how terrified this dog was and the distinct possibility that he didn’t have to be as lucky as he was, that he could’ve easily been discovered by others not disposed towards canines as much as we all were, and what then? What could have happened to this very lucky dog then? I want to scream all of this in his face.

Sammy jumps up to the adolescent and the kid grabs Sammy in midair and he’s licking his face all over and the kid is very happy to have his dog back. “Can I bring him into the car, mom?” he asks the woman. When she nods he goes through the door and I never see Sammy again.

We finally conclude all the talk and wish the family well and they are off. Sheri, Bernie and I keep talking in her lobby, while Casca sits on his side looking wanly through the doors to the outside. As Sheri departs she says we should all get together for some grub as soon as the vaccine gets distributed and some sense of normality returns. There are so many of these rain checks these days. I can only imagine it’ll be a nationwide feast once the masks are removed and people can feel it’s ok to breathe on each other again.

Bernie and I pick up a Christmas tree on the way back home. Plus a wreath. It’s cold outside and I don’t have cash and I run across the street to the ATM and then it occurs to me just how lucky I have it. I’m buying a tree without thinking about it. Something not everyone can do. I have privileges. Not everyone has the same opportunities. What’s more is not everyone has the same way of ambling about things, the same way of making one’s way. Some people, quite plainly, are just more forgetful. I remember a story someone told me of a friend of there’s who forgot their own kid in a public square and took a bus back home without the child. He noted that he loved his kids very much but that didn’t stop him from having a super lousy memory. 

I feel stupid for my initial theory about the owner having a mental illness. I was wrong about that. They were just forgetful. 

Obviously there are humane concerns. These dogs need to be cared for. But we have to care for each other too. And, in this case, that means accepting that everybody is struggling and everybody is hurting and everybody is surviving, and therefore compassion is the key.

Homo sapiens is an animal species too. When I look into the eyes of a fellow human, I am also looking into the eyes of an animal, as they are when they look into my eyes. We are animals. We are animals that have to take care of each other, too.

I can be angry that someone was negligent to a poor canine. But I also have to let it go. Who am I to judge? 

As I purchase the tree and grab the wreath, something of the Christmas spirits wafts into the scene, and my ire lifts. Bernie, Casca and I are now free to return to our lives with all of the time and space that this pandemic allows for processing momentous events such as these. 

How apt, we say to ourselves on the way back, remarking about Sammy’s real name, which we learned when the owners were initially claiming him, that he was called Lucky.

#dogs #dogs of tumblr #lost dog #found dog

[mysteryofren]

Better Luck Next Time, Space Cowboy.

Part 41 of So Happy Together

Masterlist

A/N: i just realized this series is gonna be hella long, and not a lot of people may read it bc of it sjbajslflj so i might cut some of the things i wanted in the story out, and make a few oneshots about everything i wanted to put in

warnings: for the love of god its so much fluff, like a sickening amount of fluff.

Tags: @wumboho @pylopenpolo @duty-isnt-always-honour

“Do you see it?” He asked. 

“No.” You responded as you leaned over the bridge to get a better look. 

“Careful, I don't want you to fall over the rail.” He said as he grabbed your torso to keep you from going over.

“Point it out again.” You said as you squint to see a little better. His hand came by your face as he pointed out where to look.

  Following where his finger was going you finally saw it. A butterfly hiding on the floor of the exhibit. It was bright blue, but it hid in the shade making it hard to see. It wasn't too big yet, but it was already bigger than most butterflies. The longer you looked the more of it you saw. 

“What was it called again?” You asked. 

“Blue Morpho butterfly.” Ben said looking the beautiful bug with you.

“It can have a wingspan of 5-8 inches.” He said. You got down from the bridge railing, and walked over to the next plaque that indicated another kind of butterfly.

 It had been a week since you had gotten home. It's been about 2 days since Ben got home. His parents made him drive home from Bracca for running off without telling anyone. When he got back he immediately made his way to your grandfather's house where you were. He didn't stay long. He asked you on a date, and then left before telling you anything else. The next day he told you about how the local museum was holding an exhibit on butterflies for only a limited time, and he wanted to go see it. He insisted on bringing you. Now here you were, walking along a little path that cut through the greenhouse that held the butterflies. He was always the first one to find them in the bushes and trees. Then he would point them out to you, and tell you about them. 

“So what's up with you, and these things? You seem to know a good amount about butterflies.” 

“My grandma. She had a bunch of books on them for her garden, and she used to read them to me. When I learned how to read I would read them myself.” 

“That’s cute.” You said as you looked out again to see if you could find more. There was a small man made pond that sat in the corner. There were 2 turtles on the edge of the water. You watched as one slowly crawled into the water. 

“Ok do you wanna find more? Or maybe we could go inside, and see the rest of the museum?”

“Find me one more.” You said. 

“Im on it.” He responded as he looked into the greenery. It was a few minutes before he saw one, but when he did he pointed it out for you.

“Over there. Its by that cluster of those little white flowers.” He said. 

 You got yourself to his eye level, and looked at the flowers. Sure enough, on a small bundle of baby’s breath there was a yellow butterfly with a few streaks of black that started at the top of the wings, then faded away.

“What type is that?” You asked him. 

“I'm not too sure. I know it's a swallowtail, but I don't know what type.” 

“Can you check the pamphlet?” You heard the sound of him opening the small booklet. It flew off before he found it. 

“Here it is. Eastern Tiger Swallowtail. Their host plants are Wild black cherries, tulip trees, and sweet bay Magnolias.” 

“I feel like I've seen one before.” You said. 

“You probably have. It’s one of the most common species of butterfly in eastern north america.” You stayed staring at the flowers it had sat on for a few minutes before walking away. You walked out of the humid greenhouse into the cold of the museum. Ben wasn't too far behind you. He came out, and looked around. 

   He suggested that you two go to the planetarium. On your way to it he told you about how him, and Matt went through a phase where they were obsessed with space. He told you about how this one time he had a space themed birthday party where he dressed as an astronaut. Han had made him a fake spaceship set up in his tree house. You laughed at the thought of a 6 year old Ben Solo dressed as an astronaut for a party. He also told you about the time him, and Matt got matching space outfits, and listened to old space launch audios while playing in the tree ship. 

“What happened to the tree house? I've been to your house so many times, and I have never seen one.” You asked him as you both stood in line for the planetarium. 

“It's not in the backyard. It's in the woods behind our fence. My mom doesn’t know about it though so don't tell her.”  He said. 

“Wait it's still there?” 

“Yeah, the ship set up is still there, and everything.” 

“Ok you have to take me to see this thing when I go over.” You said. 

“I cant show you, sorry.” You dramatically gasped.

“And why not?” You said with fake shock.

“Space crew members only.” That made you laugh.

“Space crew members? Who's on your crew so far?” 

“Me, Matt, Chewie, my Dad, and my Uncle Lando, and Luke.”

“And how does someone become a crew member?” You asked. 

“You gotta prove you're worthy to travel the galaxy with.” 

“Sounds like a hard club to get into.” 

“Certainly is.” He said.

 The doors for the planetarium opened, and you both turned your attention to it. You walked in with the crowd, and found some seats next to each other. He was so fascinated by everything, like a kid watching his favorite movie. Every now and then he would whisper a random fact to you about a planet, or star. You would be lying if you said it didn't make you happy to see him like this. The Ben you knew before was someone who didn't wanna do things like this. The Ben you knew before would think something like a museum was stupid. Turns out that was a front. The real Ben was a giant nerd who had a spaceship tree house. Soon the show ended, and he actually looked kind of sad about it. You even asked if he wanted to watch it again, and he didn't want to make you sit through it again. After some convincing you told him you would be more than happy to go again after lunch, and he agreed.

 The museum had a small outdoor dining area that you chose to sit at. You had talked about the day, and all the stuff you saw. He beamed about the planetarium, and how it felt like he was actually in space. Your favorite part was probably the butterfly exhibit though. You liked having him point them out for you, and tell you about them. It was like learning without all the work, besides he's already graduated, you would be a bad friend if you didn't help keep his brain active. Stars know it definitely wasn't active before. You stopped talking for a bit while you watched 2 birds battle over a chip. He even gave them voices, and names. The two of you went back and forth talking as them. 

“You were the chosen one Garbanzo. It was said you would share the chip not keep it.” He said in a high pitched voice as the two stopped and looked back, and forth, between the chip and the other. 

“I hate you!!!” You said in a gravely evil sounding voice. Just then the other bird grabbed the chip, and flew to a nearby light post. 

“It's over Garbanzo. I have the high ground.” Ben said back. Just then the little bird had flown off with the chip, and the other hopped around to look for something else. You felt kind of bad for him so you grabbed one of Ben's fries, and tossed it to him.

“Hey! Why my fry?” He asked. 

“C’mon Ben, hasn't Garbanzo lost enough?” He laughed before popping a fry in his mouth. 

“I guess he did. Poor little guy just wanted his chip.” 

“Hey, if he didn't want to lose the whole chip he should have shared with Q-tip.” You said as you took a bite out of your chicken tender. 

“I still don't know why you named him Q-tip.” 

“Why did you name the other one Garbanzo?” You asked.

“He was garbanzo bean colored.” 

“You're telling me his little head didn't look like the end of a Q-tip?” 

“Do you always name everything after the first thing it reminds you of?” He asked. 

“Yeah, my first cat was named kitty.” You said. 

You told him about how the little cat would go to your window. You would feed him, and play with him. Eventually your parents found out, and caught him. They took him to the vet, got his shots, and brought him back for you. For so long you just called him kitty so you left it at that.

“That poor cat. His name was probably Bruce or something.” 

“Bruce?” 

“Yeah. cats tend to hang out in little packs so his family probably called him Bruce before he was so wrongly abducted.”

“Abducted?!?! I did not abduct him! He was very happy for your information.”

“Oh yeah, I'm sure Bruce loved his life. Bows, and dresses, and constant unwanted attention.” You threw a fry at him, and he laughed. 

“I was a good pet owner! I didn't dress him up, I just held him a lot.” 

“Uh huh, so happened to him?” He asked. You shook your head then sighed in defeat. 

“He ran away.” You said. He pointed his finger at you, and smiled. 

“AH HA! So kitty wasn't too happy after all.”

“Watch it, Solo.” 

“Man I'm gonna feel bad for our kids.”

Did he just say our? As in you, and him? Having kids? The two of you? You looked at him to ask about it, but noticed he looked a little nervous. He was blushing a bit too. You knew it probably slipped out by accident so you decided to pretend like you didn't hear a thing.

“You know what. I'm not taking this from a guy who hangs out in a spaceship tree house” You said as you continued eating. He gasped dramatically before you both laughed, and talked about other things.

  It was almost unreal how normal everything felt. This was only the 2nd first date you had been on, and it felt like your hundredth. Even your first date with Cal was a bit awkward in the beginning. This felt so natural. Like it was meant to be this way. He started telling you more about his childhood. He told you about a summer him, and Matt spent with Anakin, and Padme. Him, and Anakin spent some days fixing up some old cars. Apparently it was an old hobby of Anakins when he was younger. He taught all the boys everything he could about cars. He told you him, and Padme would hang out in the gardens, and do random things together. They would read, or play board games, maybe even just talk, or listen to music. The way he talked about her gave away that you, and he had something in common. You both loved your grandparents more than your parents.

  He loved Padme the way you loved your grandfather. Padme was Gentle, and patient with him. She spent time with him, and gave him more love than he knew what to do with. Your grandfather did the same with you. He made you feel love when you felt like there was none in the world. He gave you courage even when you felt like there was none in you. He gave you support when your parents could be bothered. He was your Padme, and Padme was Ben's, well, Ben. Soon it was time for the next show. Ben threw out the trash from lunch as you gathered your things. Both of you made your way to the line again. You waited for about 5 minutes when you finally felt like you needed to use the restroom. You told him you would be back, and left. 

 On your way back to the line you passed a small gift shop. Inside they sold balloons that looked like planets. You quickly ran in to look at them. You grabbed Neptune, and took it to the front to pay before running back to the planetarium. Just as you approached it the doors had opened, and people started walking in. you walked in with everyone, and saw Ben had waited for you by the door.

“C'mon kid what took you so long.”

“Don't scold me. I was getting something!” You handed the balloon to him, and he looked at it in awe as you went to your seats. 

“So what other planets did they have?” He asked. 

“All of em. Even Pluto.” 

“Pluto?!?!”He tried to whisper, but not very well since people looked at you guys. 

“Do you even know how to whisper?” 

“Leia, and Han Solo are my parents, and you really ask me that?” You laughed at him, and sat back in your seat. He held the balloon towards you.

“Keep it, I got it for you.” You shoved his hand back gently, and he smiled. He put it between his legs so it wouldn't block peoples view.

“You're a much better girlfriend than Rey. I always got her stuff, but she never got me anything.”

  You felt your face heat up. He just called you his girlfriend. Was it an accident like the kid thing? Or did he mean this one? Just as you opened your mouth to ask him the room darkened as the show started. He smiled, and wiggled a bit in his seat like a toddler. You smiled and looked back at the screen. Your hand was resting on your thigh when you felt something moving on it. You looked down and saw Ben's hand was slowly inching its way towards yours. He stopped right before his fingers touched yours. You tried not to smile He slowly moved his hand over yours, and gently wrapped his fingers around it. Your hand practically disappeared in his giant one. You flipped your hand over, and the two of you intertwined your fingers. He held your hand for the rest of the show.

 The two of you walked out still holding hands. You insisted on seeing the anatomy section of the museum, and he happily obliged. When you got to the exhibit you were oddly excited. The entrance was in the shape of someone's mouth, and Ben smacked one of the top teeth as you walked in like every other teenage boy that was there. You laughed as you looked around at the education posters that lined the small hallway that led to the rest of the exhibit. The first thing that caught your attention was a life size operation game. You watched as Ben tried to take out the organs without losing. He managed to take out 2 things before he finally lost. You, on the other hand, were very steady, and you were able to get most of the items out except 1. 

 Eventually you started to feel a bit tired. Your legs ached from walking, and running all day, and you wanted to go. Ben understood, and asked if you would at least go get dinner with him. Before you left you wanted to see the gift shop. Ben had an idea for a cute little game where the two of you split up to find a souvenir for each other. He walked around for about 3 seconds before he found something, and made his way to the register. You searched for half an hour before you found the perfect little gift. You snatched them up, and walked over to the counter to check out. As the lady rang you up you saw something else that caught your attention on the counter. You grabbed it, and placed it on the counter as well. Once you paid the total you walked out to meet Ben. 

“Hey kid! Took you long enough.” He said as you walked up to him.

“Shut up! I wanted to make sure I got the right thing.” You said as you finally made it next to him. He wrapped an arm around you, and led you to the car as you talked about where to go for dinner. 

 The two of you grabbed something quick, and went to a park. The sun was setting, but it didn't matter seeing as you two wanted to eat in the car. You both watched the sun go down as you ate, and talked about random things. He told you more about the tree house spaceship, which apparently had a name. The Millenium Falcon. Lando had come up with the name, but all the boys loved it so much they agreed on it. He told you about their days hanging out in it. Whether it was hotter than the sun itself, or colder than Neptune. Him, and Matt were always up there. He said they stopped using it as much when they got into middle school. It made you sad thinking of it becoming overgrown through the years. He assured you that he at least still used it, and took care of it. 

“Oh hey our gifts!” He said as he grabbed his bag from the back seat. You did the same, and grabbed the small bag that held his gift. 

“Ok who goes first?” He asked. You opened the bag, and grabbed the two pins you had bought him.

 One pin was a Space Shuttle flying over earth, and the other was an astronaut's helmet with a cowboy hat on. 

“Okay. close your eyes, and hold out your hands.” He followed your instructions. You gently placed them in his palms. 

“Alright you are good to open your eyes.” You said. You watched as he slowly opened his eyes, and looked in his hands. His eyes lit up with joy, and a goofy grin spread across his face. He picked them up, and examined both pins as he laughed. 

“No way, a space cowboy!” He said as he held it up to show you. 

“I feel like you would be a space cowboy, so it's fitting.” 

“Awe man these are so cool. I'm putting these on my backpack when I get home.” He lifted himself up, and put both pins in his back pocket. 

“Ok there's one more thing, I don't know if you will like it or not, but I personally thought it was pretty cool.” His smile got wider as you reached into the bag, and brought the other item out. You handed it to him with the front facing down. He grabbed it gently, and turned it over. He let out a small gasp. 

“Oh shit, I've always wanted one of these.” he ripped open the package, and took out the freeze dried ice cream sandwich. He inspected it closely as the crumbs from it fell onto his lap. He took a bit of the corner and closed his eyes as he took it all in. 

“So? Everything you expected it to be?” He smiled.

“Definitely not, but I like it!” He snapped the small snack in half, and handed you the piece he hasn't bitten.

“It's yours, I got it for you.”

“What's the point of having this experience if I can't share it with my girlfriend?”

 Girlfriend. He used it again. Maybe it wasn't a slip up after all. You grabbed the snack from his hands as he continued eating his half. You bit into yours as you thought. Nerves took over your body as you considered asking him about it. You were going to open your mouth to ask him when something hit your face.

“Hey!” you said as you looked at him.

“Where were you just now?” He asked. 

“Im here,” you picked up the little napkin ball he had thrown.” being assaulted with napkins.”

“Oh yeah, then what was I just saying?” You stared at him for a second as you tried not to laugh or smile.

“See, now c'mon tell me what's on your mind.” He said as he sat against the door a bit. You sighed as you positioned yourself in the car seat to face him.

“That's the second time you’ve said that today.” You told him as you took another bite.

“Called you what?” 

“Your girlfriend.” He tensed up as his smile dropped, and his eyes filled with worry. He clenched his jaw, and cleared his throat before asking.

“Do you…. Not want to be my girlfriend?” There was a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“No! I mean, yes. Well maybe I'm not sure, but I also meant no that's not what my issue is.” he relaxed only a little, but his shoulders were still tense.

“so , uh, what is the, um, issue?” 

“I just didn't think you wanted this to be a serious thing. I thought we were just going to try it out, and see where it goes before making anything official.”

“Is...is that what you wanna do?” He still sounded a bit nervous.

“I think. I would rather us try it out first. You know, go on a few dates. See if there's something here. I don’t wanna jump into this quickly, and end up getting hurt like the first time.” You said looking at him. He bit his lip, and looked around before speaking.

“I told you things would be different this time, and I wasn't lying. I almost lost you to some random guy in Bracca, and I don't want to risk that again. You mean more to me than Rey, or any other girl before. I never want to see you cry, and know I'm the reason behind it again.” 

 Why did that make you want to cry?

“I know that you may not be ready to do this. But whenever you are ready, I will be too. I'll be ready to give you the world, and everything in it. Whether it's a week, or a decade from now. Just know I will ask after every date though.” 

 You laughed as tears welled up in your eyes. Were you being stupid for wanting to wait? You loved him. He loved you. The two of you knew it, but you scared it would be like before. You knew it was best to wait a while before starting something like this. 

“So what were you saying before?” You asked as you wiped your eyes. He smiled.

“My gift absolutely sucks compared to yours, but when I saw them I thought you might like em.”

 He held the bag out to you, and you took it. The first thing you saw when you opened it was something green. When you took it out you realized it was a big T-rex plush. It had little button eyes, and a tab on its little hand that said ‘squeeze me’. You grabbed its little hand, and squeezed it, and listened as it growled, and roared. You smiled as you kept pressing it to listen to all the noises.

“I felt like you were more of a dinosaur kid, than a space kid.”

“I was most definitely a dinosaur kid, good call.” You laughed.

“There's something else in there.” He informed you. 

 You sat the plush in your lap, and looked in the bag. At the bottom was a key chain. You pulled it out, and saw it was a butterfly. More specifically a Blue Morpho butterfly with iridescent blue wings. You grabbed your bag, and dug your keys out to put it on your keys.

“I love them Ben! How could you think this gift wasn't as good as mine?” you asked.

He smiled as he watched you put your keys back in your bag. You squeezed the T-rex's hand again and smiled at the sound it made. 

“Alright I should probably get you home before my mom thinks we ran off together this time.” 

“Good idea. Han’s probably gathering a search party already.” 

  He laughed as he started the car. The park you had chosen wasn't too far from your house so it didn't take long before he pulled into the driveway. You looked into the windows, and saw the lights in the den were still on. Ben stopped the car, and looked at you. 

“So. What weird thing will you name your new friend?” He asked as he squeezed the plushies hand. It roared as you thought about it. 

“You know what. In honor of kitty. I think his name will be Bruce.” The two of you laughed as you thought of your earlier conversation about your poor cats real name. 

“I'm sure Kitty is somewhere proud that you named a toy after him.” 

“Oh shut up!” You threw Bruce at his chest and he caught it as he laughed. 

“Cmon, kid, I'll walk you to the door.” He said as he got out. 

“You don't have to.” You called out to him as you got your bag. He opened your door, and held a hand out to you. 

“Nah, nah, nah. I'm going to, and you can't say anything about it.” You smiled as you took his hand to get out.  

 He held your hand as he walked you to the front door. You two talked about Bruce, and you even jokingly called him your child. Ben laughed at your joke, and agreed that he could be his dad. You felt your face heat up at his words as you approached the door. You grabbed your keys, and unlocked the door, and noticed how your new keychain shined brighter in the light. You unlocked the door, and opened it a bit. 

“So I guess this is goodbye.” Ben said. 

“For now.” You responded as you opened the door a bit wider. 

“Oh thank the stars you are home I was getting worried.” You heard your grandfather say as he walked over. 

“Oh, Hello there, Ben!” He said as Ben came into his view

“Hey Obi-Wan. Sorry I got her home just now, we had a late dinner.” 

“It's not a problem,” He said to you. “Next time just message me you’ll be home a bit later so I  don't wait up for you.” 

“Won't happen again.” You promised as you hugged him. 

“Very well. Now if you don't mind I think I'll be going to bed now.” He said as he shuffled away. You, and Ben wished him goodnight as he walked away. Once he was gone Ben looked down at you. 

“So uh. What are my chances of getting a goodnight kiss?” He asked you with a smug grin. You rolled your eyes as he tried to lean against the door frame, but accidentally slipped off a bit, and he stumbled. You covered your mouth to stop yourself from dying of laughter as you watched his try to recover from his slip up. 

“Smooth move Han.” You teased. He smiled. 

“Alright, you just missed YOUR chance to get a goodnight kiss!” He said. You feigned despair, and dramatically gasped. 

“Oh no, whatever will I do now?” You both laughed at your little jokes, before you looked up at him. 

 You stood up on your tiptoes, and kissed his lips. This one was different from the ones you had shared before. This was gentle, and loving. Even though it wasn't as fiery as all the other, you still felt that same passion behind it. He smiled down at you before you pulled away from him. You stepped into the house, and put your stuff down. 

“Goodnight, kid.” He said as he walked away. 

“Night Ben.” You watched as he walked to his car. As dumb as it sounds, you wanted to make sure he got in safe. He unlocked the door, and put one foot in before he looked back at you. 

“One last question, Kenobi.” He called out. 

“Shoot.” You called back out to him. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asked with a smile. You rolled your eyes again, and smiled.

“Better luck next time, space cowboy.” 

 You closed the front door, and jumped up and down in happiness.

#ben solo #ben solo fanfiction #teen!ben solo #ben solo x reader #ben skywalker #ben solo fanfic #ben solo x y/n #ben solo x you #ben solo x female reader #reader insert #Teen!Reader #kenobi!reader #reader insert fanfiction #star wars x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #Star Wars fanfic #star wars au #star wars tros #star wars tlj #star wars tfa #star wars the last jedi #star wars the force awakens #star wars the rise of skywalker #Han Solo #leia organa #Matt the radar technician #kylo ren #Luke Skywalker #Lando Calrissian

[technicallycleverdetective]

Walking

Another Kitbull fic, which I hope you will enjoy. Rocky has issues around other dogs and the family must find a way to deal with it.

They tended to take Rocky for walks in the forest overlooking the city.

 When he had first joined the family, Hazel and Frank had done the obvious thing and taken their new pup- he was far from a pup, but Hazel liked to call him that- to the family-friendly dog park that was only a twenty minute walk from their house. Rocky was such a gentle soul and so affectionate to Shadow, and there was no reason to believe that he would be troubled by other dogs.

 Unfortunately they had been wrong.

 Rocky did not like other dogs. As soon as he laid his eyes upon a Golden Retriever, he started to bark furiously and strained against the leash. Hazel had been horrified. The park was intended for well-trained dogs who could be trusted to run around off the leash, and there was Rocky looking like the worst stereotype of a pitbull in front of all their owners. Frank had pulled him away and he’d settled down as soon as there were no other dogs in sight, tail wagging cheerfully as he stopped to smell the flowers. Hazel had felt a stone of dread in her stomach as she thought of someone calling Animal Control and reporting him. They wouldn’t ask questions. As soon as they saw his breed, they’d label him dangerous and take him away, and she had to admit that she couldn’t wholeheartedly defend him. If they’d blindly trusted him to be off the leash like all of the other dogs, what might have happened?

 She cried when they got home at the thought of what might have been, and what still could be. Frank made her a cup of tea and gave her a hug. Rocky placed his head in her lap as a form of comfort, and even Shadow wandered over to see what was happening.

 “It’s possible he could have been a fighting dog” Frank remarked.

 Hazel nodded. “I thought he could be,” she confessed. “I didn’t want to believe it because…He’s so gentle. He has no problem with you, he had no problem with being touched right from the start. I thought I must be wrong, but…What are we going to do? If he can’t be trusted around other dogs, how are we going to walk him? All it takes is for one of the wrong people to see him and report him. You know that Animal Control will put him down.”

 Her partner sighed and rubbed a hand across his jaw. “We could do obedience classes.”

 “Can you get one-on-one obedience classes?” “I’m not sure, but if we bring him to a group class, it might help him get used to other dogs.”

 Frank had always been the more practical one of the two, and in the absence of any better ideas, Hazel kept her doubts to herself and agreed to the plan. Rocky went no further than the back garden for several days before he was brought along to his first training class.

 It went as disastrously as Hazel had feared. Ten minutes after entering the hall, she had been forcibly evicted and was crying on the sidewalk as Rocky continued to bark at the dogs that he could see through the glass door. People crossed the street to avoid walking past, throwing undisguised looks of horror and disgust at both of them.

 She was glad that Frank seemed as determined as before to find a solution. One of them had to be. He had hit upon the idea of finding an area with no other dogs, and though Hazel had scoffed at the idea of finding such a place in suburban San Francisco, he hadn’t given up. Within a week he’d suggested the forest. It was a twenty minute long drive from their house, necessitating that Shadow be brought along, but it had ended up being the perfect solution.

 The forest was huge and provided great exercise for both Rocky and the humans, not to mention a large variety in paths to explore. That definitely gave it an advantage over walking the same circular route every single day. It was also entirely empty as Frank had said. On their first test run there, they hadn’t seen a single other human or dog, and Hazel began to feel more confident that they would have the place to themselves as the same thing happened on subsequent walks. Finally, the most unexpected and yet welcome advantage was that Rocky was able to spend some time off the leash after all, because they had Shadow with them. Where the dog might have rocketed into the trees and vanished from sight, his kitten companion preferred to lounge around in the sun and he tended to stick close to her. They spent most of their time playing with each other in a small area, never too far from their parents.

 Things had been going well for the past few weeks. Hazel had relaxed enough to start enjoying the beautiful scenery and the views over the city, and trusted the furry children to come back when they’d had enough play time. She no longer hovered near their games, leash at the ready to snap onto Rocky’s collar at the first sound of someone approaching. No-one ever came up here. It was safe.

 She was sitting on a tree stump, reading a book and occasionally glancing up at her family. Shadow had decided that the stump was the warmest place around and, since Hazel was in the way, she’d just curl up on her lap to sunbathe. Frank had brought a ball and was tossing it for Rocky. The dog sprinted across the grass once again, snatching it up from the ground and returning it with a proud wag of his tail. Hazel smiled and looked down at her book again.

 Rocky’s barking was the first sign that something was wrong. She looked up and was stunned to see that a bulldog had appeared from nowhere. He had reached the edge of the grass already and was sprinting towards Frank and Rocky. She only had time to scream.

 Everything happened in less than a second.

 Rocky was barking and snarling viciously as the bulldog charged directly at him.

 Frank was frozen, standing between them, but too shocked to move.

 And Shadow leapt off Hazel’s lap, sped across the grass like a furry bullet, and launched at the bulldog just before it reached Rocky. The bulldog flinched from the attack, yelping, and then ran back in the direction it had come.

 It seemed like the world was in suspended animation. Hazel couldn’t move, speak, or even feel her legs properly. Suddenly Frank jolted forward and clipped the leash onto Rocky’s collar, as he continued to bark, but remained where he was and made no effort to chase the aggressor. Hazel realised then that she needed to move too. She sprinted across the grass and scooped Shadow into her arms.

 “Where the hell was its owner?” Frank demanded. Hazel was a little closer to the path than him and she could see the owner, a blonde woman, crossing the bridge nearby.

 “She’s coming.”

 “I’m going to give her a piece of my mind…”

 “Don’t,” Hazel urged frantically. “Let’s just go. She won’t believe Rocky didn’t do it.”

 Frank paused, looking at her and then Rocky. “You talk to her if you want,” Hazel said quickly. She took the leash from him. “I’m going to take them. I’ll see you at the car.”

 She marched quickly across the grass towards a more distant path where they couldn’t be seen from the bridge, thankful that Rocky walked obediently by her side because she didn’t have the strength to fight him. She felt as if she was going to faint.

 Somehow her numb, shaky legs carried her to the car and she got the animals inside before falling into the front passenger seat. She watched the wing mirror anxiously until she saw Frank coming and held her breath as he got into the driver’s seat. He hesitated before speaking, holding onto the steering wheel.

 “So the bad news,” he began. “The bulldog has a cut on its chest. I don’t think it was badly hurt, but there was some blood and we’ll probably be on the hook for the vet’s bills.”

 Hazel sighed and rubbed her forehead. “And the good news?”

 “I told her that her dog had charged at our cat and she lashed out. The woman was very apologetic.”

 She nodded. A few hundred dollars for antibiotics or stitches wasn’t ideal, but it was a penalty she could live with. Frank placed his hand over hers and she jumped, disturbed from the white noise in her head.

 “Are you okay?” he asked.

 “I’ll be fine,” she said quietly. “Rocky didn’t move.”

 “I know.” “He just barked. He didn’t attack him.” “He’s a good boy” Frank said proudly, directing a smile to the back seat. Hazel began to smile too. Okay, a barking pitbull was never going to be a good look, but he wasn’t a danger after all. The poor boy was probably just afraid of this exact situation, being attacked by another dog, and was trying to scare them off. She felt as if she could breathe a little easier with that knowledge.

 “Do you think there are obedience classes that would give him a chance?” she asked.

 “We could ask” Frank said, turning the key in the ignition.

  Yes, Hazel decided, they could ask.

#kitbull #rocky is a good boy #kitbull fic

[harryandmolly]

Complicit // 2

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW, possibly gratuitous fashion description

WC: 5.3k

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

Niall drops his head and leans into the final note, squinting and scrunching his face as he riddles out this one song that’s been driving him up a wall for almost a week. He feels a flicker of inspiration, reaches for it as he looks out the window toward the balcony of his Hollywood Hills home. His brow furrows, his fingers wind up to strike the strings again, and--

Buzz. Buzzzzzzz. Buzzbuzz.

He swears under his breath and tosses the acoustic beside him on the couch. He can’t admit to himself that he’s grateful for the distraction, so he decides to be annoyed with whomever is calling.

Shawny Boi.

He sighs. He can’t be annoyed with Shawn. It’s like being annoyed with a labradoodle puppy.

“Hey, mate.”

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

Niall laughs. Shawn’s voice is bright and edging toward chipper. He can hear his doofy, multi-million dollar smile through the phone. And Niall knows who put it there.

“I guess that first date was good, then?”

Shawn, pacing around barefoot in his kitchen, grins eagerly and strokes a hand through his messy curls. “Oh… man. Dude, it was… so good. I should’ve done this years ago.”

Niall, bemused, shimmies further into the cushions of his couch, trying not to feel like the old and wise man Shawn sees him as. “Shawny, you’re 21. How long ago are you talkin’ about?”

Shawn laughs, bubbly and strange somehow, like he’s high. Niall’s seen Shawn high when they’ve smoked weed together. He doesn’t get giggly, he gets philosophical. And hungry.

This is a different high altogether.

“You know what I mean, man. Feels good, feels like I can like… handle shit now. Y’know? Like I was so tired and didn’t even realize it and then I got to sleep for like two full days and I’m all good again.”

Niall’s familiar with the feeling. His first date with Karina was similarly revitalizing. He was bouncing off the walls for a week. He nods in understanding.

“‘S a great feeling, havin’ someone take all the pressure off and force you to just… feel good.”

“Yeah,” Shawn answers dreamily, “I just wanted to like, thank you again. I think this kinda saved my ass.”

Niall smiles to himself and bounces his bad knee, glancing out the window. “Gonna see her again, then?”

“Definitely. I’m gonna call again today.”

Niall’s knee slows. He bites his lip and tilts his head from side to side. “Listen, mate, just don’t get attached. I know it feels good, but it still doesn’t compare to something… real.”

Shawn bobs his head at the reality he’s been trying to remind himself of in the 24 hours since she slipped back into her Roger Vivier heels and left him in bed with a kiss on the cheek and a glint in her warm, tired eyes. He drops his head and rolls it, stretching his neck.

“Yeah, no, I mean, I know. I just feel like I got so much shit pent up over the last few months. And I’m about to go home for a week and then this whole festival thing is lined up to kick my ass all summer, plus I’ll be flying back and forth to LA to be seen with Bex, so… I’m just… I dunno.”

It’s a weak explanation. He huffs, his chest deflating, indignant at the idea of having to explain himself at all. He’s a grown man, he can do what he wants with his time and money and attention. He needs this. It’s therapeutic. It’s good for him. And it feels so fucking good.

Niall rubs a hand against the scruff under his chin. “Hey, it’s all you, mate. Whatever you wanna do. I’m glad it’s helped.”

“Yeah. Thanks again, dude. I’ll see ya soon.”

Shawn hangs up and, with color in his cheeks, skims through his contacts to find La Splendeur saved under the name “Dentist,” just in case. His hand shakes a little as he holds the phone to his ear.

+

The temperature change leaving the LA heat wave outdoors to stepping into Silver’s 6 bedroom Beverly Hills modern monstrosity of a home has Penny wincing and cursing herself for not remembering a jacket. Twice a month they have this meeting, always in the quiet security of Silver’s house rather than discussing business out in the open, and nearly every time Penny sits and shivers.

“Welcome home, love.”

Silver’s voice rings through the high-ceilinged foyer, crisp and lightly accented by British boarding school and Cambridge. Penny looks up to see her on the landing above in a white Theory pantsuit that’s tailored so sharply she looks untouchable. Penny smiles. Home, indeed.

Silver’s steps down the staircase are quiet, despite the sleek marble beneath her stilettoed feet. Despite the facade of the outfit, she takes Penny in her arms and kisses her cheeks three times, offering her arm to guide them into the living room where a full Japanese tea service waits.

Silver’s friendship is an odd and somehow comforting mix of formality and family. Penny’s never seen her underdressed, or sick, or overly emotional. And despite Silver’s perceived coldness, reflected in her choice of home and interior decorating, Penny has always felt safe and loved in her presence, ever since Silver first hired her as an escort at 20.

Penny, respectfully also in business formal, a pale pink Max Mara pencil dress and creamy nude Louboutins (a gift from Silver for her birthday), perches on the edge of the snowy white chaise and faces her best friend.

Silver sweeps a lock of dark hair behind her ear and grins.

“So how was it?”

Penny’s face lights up. She drums her fingers against her knee and tries to play coy. “Spectacular.”

“Good, tell me everything.”

Penny lifts a cleanly filled brow. “Hard up, are we?”

Silver chuckles and eyes the tea service. “Have you ever known me to be without?”

Silver, long since retired from escorting herself, has had a long line of pretty young things hanging around since Penny has known her, but never for very long. Last Penny heard, Yvette, a fresh faced lingerie model from Nice, was the flavor of the month. Silver doesn’t spend a night alone if she doesn’t want to.

Penny cedes with a nod and a smirk. “So you’re just girlishly curious?”

Silver lifts a toned shoulder and sips her tea. “It’s nice to see how the other half lives sometimes. And it’s good business for me to know what clients like him can be like. Makes me a better manager.”

Silver launched La Splendeur two years after hiring Penny with the idea that Silver would largely oversee the personnel -- drivers, girls, clients -- and Penny with her head for business would run the logistics -- the books, legal, and some of the legitimate earnings attached to La Splendeur that keeps curious eyes from gazing too close. They became partners, each sharing equal cuts of the profits, each assigned to manage the parts of the organization where they had the most acumen.

This bimonthly meeting is designed to keep both ends running smoothly as well as serving as an excuse for two busy friends to meet up under legitimate circumstances. Silver doesn’t often show much interest in Penny’s dates after they’ve been vetted and approved. Penny wonders what it is about Shawn that has her curious.

“He was very nervous. We did a lot of work to get him to let go. Honestly, he’s one of the trickier clients I’ve seen in a while. But once I got him there…”

Penny’s eyes flutter shut as she revisits her night with Shawn. Even after she made him come twice in a row in her hand, he had more for her. They were up most of the night with brief naps in between wild, uncontrollable orgasms. Truthfully, Penny’s not sure she’s ever had such an enthusiastic first date with a client. She’s been on cloud nine for days thinking about how calm and deeply satisfied he looked the next morning.

When she looks back at Silver, her intensely dark eyes are gleaming mischievously. Penny rolls her own.

“I’m glad he enjoyed himself. He called to rebook you. You have a room at The London tomorrow night at 9.”

Penny tries not to lick her lips insatiably but Silver knows her too well. She releases an echo-y, delighted laugh.

“Seems like maybe you have a new favorite?” she guesses.

Penny’s eyes drop to her own half-drunk cup of tea. “We’ll see. Some guys like this, they start hot and heavy and lose steam fast. Maybe he just needs this boost and he’ll be on his merry pop star way.”

Silver, ever unnervingly wise and all-seeing, nods and glances out her windows that look out onto the Los Angeles skyline. “Maybe.”

Penny feels the hair raise on the back of her neck and swallows, reaching for her laptop. “Let’s go over this month.”

+

Shawn recognizes the guy in the dark suit standing outside the room when he gets off the elevator with Winston Churchill on the doors. He offers him a shaky smile, trying not to imagine what he must be thinking about why Shawn is seeing this woman twice in one week. Shawn’s been trying not to look too closely at that himself since he booked the second date.

Gus, Shawn thinks his name is, gives a nod at the wire transfer confirmation on Shawn’s phone screen and lets him in.

The room is more standard glam-modern hotel vibes than the Chateau. It’s just a little cold, very clean, basic art, matching furniture. Shawn’s eyes skim over it, unfocused. They fix on the hardcased luggage sitting discreetly in the corner. His fingers twitch, imagining what’s inside it.

He sits on the end of the bed this time instead of in the lounge area where he felt a little more innocent and less like he was waiting for a prostitute to come nail him into a hole in the mattress.

Despite his eagerness for tonight and his relative comfort, having spent the night with her once before, Shawn feels some nerves creeping through his forced calm. He wonders for a moment if he won’t get used to it, waiting for her, never really forgetting the circumstances that brought them both here.

Not that he plans to continue seeing her for much longer. Just until the festivals start, maybe once or twice after when he’s back in LA getting papped with Bex at a Starbucks with his hand in her back pocket or something. His jaw tightens slightly, and then the door opens.

Penny is glowing in an emerald green cocktail dress that clings to her every curve and ends dangerously high on her sculpted, bronzed thighs. Her hair is sleek and straight, parted down the center and back over her shoulders. Her toes are painted to match her dress. Shawn shivers and wonders if she did it on purpose, if she’s been planning her outfit for him.

Shut up, his brain tells him, Why would she do that? She doesn’t need to impress you. You’re a sure thing.

The corner of his mouth lifts. He stands and smoothes his sweaty palms down the front of his inky black jeans. Gus shuts the door behind her. She smiles like she’s been waiting for this.

“Hey, you.”

Any remaining nerves vanish. Her voice is like heroin in his bloodstream. His eyes drift shut, his head falls back for a moment as he revels in her comfort.

“Hi, Penny.”

She steps forward in heeled black sandals with a jeweled brooch around each ankle strap. He takes his time looking her up and down, then feels a flash of guilt when his eyes settle on her pretty face.

She seems to know what’s on his mind. She stops before him and rests her hand on his cheek.

“It’s ok. You can look. Can even touch, if you’d like.”

The words have his fingers twitching hard where they rest at his sides. He swallows and proceeds with caution, keeping his eyes focused on hers, lined and smoky tonight, to watch her reaction.

He rests his hands on her bare upper arms, stroking her skin with his rough, calloused thumbs. Carefully, slowly, he drags them up over her narrow shoulders, brushing along the line of her collarbones, teasing the warm skin of her throat. His mouth waters. He curls his hands down over her shoulder blades, finding with a noticeable hitch in his breathing that the dress has a very low back. His fingers skate over naked skin, following the hollow of her back and stopping above the swell of her ass to fold around her hips, admiring the feel of the deep green silk.

He releases a ragged breath and closes his eyes. “I couldn’t wait. I n-needed to see you again this week before I go home for a while.”

When he opens his eyes, he sees her nodding gently, raising a hand to cup the back of his neck. She steps a little closer until they’re chest to chest, or as close as they can be considering the height difference.

“And how do you feel now that I’m here?”

Shawn smiles a little -- at her, at his own willingness to be totally honest with her. He wets his lips and says, “Like I’m amazed I waited a whole four days.”

Satisfied, Penny hums from the back of her throat and leads him down to kiss her. She starts slow, gentle against his mouth, brushing little soft kisses over his top and bottom lips like she’s memorizing the shape of them. Her free hand, by contrast, drags tight and hungry up his swollen bicep, squeezing as she goes, stopping to grip his shoulder.

He’s obedient for her despite his urge to take more than what she’s giving. He keeps his returning kisses as light as hers, but she’s holding him so tight he knows she can feel how hard he’s trying. It makes her smile and coo into his mouth. She pulls away slightly, massaging the back of his neck.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs without taking his eyes off hers. She chuckles.

“Thank you, so do you.”

Shawn laughs and starts to duck his head. Penny’s hand holds him firm and guides his lips back to hers. These are real kisses now. He groans into her mouth, opens wider so she can tease his tongue the way she likes. His hands draw her hips in closer until they’re pressed against his. He starts to lead them toward the bed, but Penny stands firm.

“What do you want?” he pants softly, his forehead tilted against hers. He hears her lips pull into a smile.

“Your mouth.”

Shawn’s nervous system goes erratic. His eyes snap open, his hands sink harder into the fabric around her hips, he pants against her cheek.

“Really?”

If he had any self awareness right now, he’d flinch and squirm at the timid excitement in his voice. Good thing he’s too fucked for her to notice.

Penny gently detangles herself from his grasp and nods toward the bed. He sits on the end, legs spread, his elbows on his knees as he vibrates in place waiting for her. Now it’s Penny’s turn to look him over.

He looks less tired than he did when she met him. His eyes are a little brighter, his skin a little clearer, his shoulders a little further from his ears. She lets the power of it flood her system, feels that old animal that lives inside her stretch its legs and awaken for another night with him.

She did that. She gave him that. She took a man who needed her, who needed release and comfort and affection and she gave it to him tenfold. She took something a little broken and made it brand fucking new. And now she gets to let loose a little more, build upon the foundation she started.

He’s looking at her like he did last time, waiting to see her when she bares herself to him. She wets her lips, painted a light mauve color, and steps closer, heightening the tension.

“Are… uhm, are you gonna take your clothes off?” he asks hopefully.

Penny lifts a shoulder with a smirk. “No need.”

His face falls a little. She grins, or more just bares her teeth, and lifts a toned leg to press the sole of her shoe to his chest. Shawn inhales sharply and lets it nudge him back to lie against the bed, blinking up at the ceiling.

She watches his broad chest rise and fall, picking up speed as the anticipation builds. She gazes at him hungrily, at his large hands running up and down his thick thighs as he self-soothes. She can feel him trying not to lift his head to look at her. Her patience runs thin.

Penny lifts herself over him, one knee on either side of his torso, climbing on top of him carefully until she’s centered above his pretty face.

“Shit. You weren’t wearing panties this whole time?”

His voice is squeaky and breathless. Penny tips her head back and laughs, tugging her skirt up.

“They don’t really work with this dress,” she explains, reaching down to curl a lock of his hair around her finger.

He learned from their first night together not to touch her until she tells him to, so his arms rest limp by his sides, despite how badly he’d like to plant his hands on her hips and yank her warm cunt down to meet his mouth.

But that’s not what he’s here for. He’s not here to take, he’s here to let her give to him. He closes his eyes, recenters himself, and looks up again to see her watching him.

“Want to taste me, Shawn?”

He pauses. He nods. “Yes please.”

Penny slowly lowers her hips until she meets his face and the eager lips that are already pressing needy kisses against her folds. She hums and settles further, reaching for his arms to secure them around her as she starts to rock against him.

“I’m gonna ride your face. Just… just keep your mouth on me,” she instructs, her voice going soft and breathy as she starts to pick up speed.

Shawn is in fucking heaven.

His eyes are wide open, staring up at her as she takes what she needs from him, her clit bumping his nose with every tight stroke. His dick strains in his jeans, but neither of them seems to care. His hands fit into the dips at her waistline and hold her, supporting her as she rolls her hips.

Shawn likes oral, he always has. But this is beyond anything he’s ever experienced. He’s never had a woman use him for her pleasure like this before. He would’ve guessed it would feel odd, disconnected somehow, lacking. But with Penny, he swears he’d give her fucking anything.

Shawn groans, flattening his tongue for her to work against as she soaks his mouth and cheeks. The slick insides of her thighs make an incredible noise against his face as she moves faster and grinds harder. He can feel the tension in her legs and the erratic rise and fall of her chest. She’s getting closer. She’s going to come on his face.

Shawn moans, overwhelmed at the very idea. His toes curl in his boots. He blinks desperately up at her, watching as her tanned face flushes. Suddenly, without warning, her pretty brown eyes snap shut and she fists a hand into his curls, whining loud.

“Shawn! Oh… fuck,” she squeals, meeting her orgasm without slowing down. She continues riding him hard and he doesn’t back down either, massaging her waist and watching greedily as the motion slips her dress up her hips and shows him more of her pretty skin.

Finally, it abates and he’s left cleaning her up with his tongue, eyes fluttering drowsily, his breathing regulating in time with hers.

Penny releases his hair from her fingers and sighs, easing up on her knees. He holds her steady as her legs shake, looking pleased with himself.

Penny laughs, climbing down his stomach so she can lean in to kiss him, tasting herself on his tongue. He whimpers, cupping his hand beneath her hair, letting her explore his mouth as she pleases.

“You really liked that,” she breathes. It’s not a question -- she doesn’t even really need his confirmation. She can see it all over his face, could feel it in the way he stared up for her and let her have him.

He blushes and nods, smiling. “You… yeah. Fuck, yeah. You taste amazing.”

Penny’s heart clamors against her ribs like it wants to get a look at him. She runs her hands through her now sex-fucked hair and laughs.

“Good. I want another one.”

Shawn blinks and feels a moment of deja vu bring him back to their first night. “Yeah?”

Penny nods casually, unbuckling the straps of her shoes where her legs are folded beneath her. She kicks them away, dropping them off the side of the bed and reaching back for her zipper, fumbling with the awkward angle.

Shawn perks up. “Can I help with that?”

Penny kisses the tip of his nose. “Sweet. Yes, please.” 

Shawn focuses his gaze on a freckle on her collarbone while his fingers tug at her zipper. When he feels it meet resistance, he stops, looks to her for instruction, then continues undressing her when she raises her arms.

Naked on his lap, she plants her hands on his chest and admires the way his heart pulses frantically for her. She sucks his earlobe between her swollen lips and feels him sigh.

“Where do you want me, Pen?”

Penny’s lips twitch at the nickname and how quickly he’s caught on. She lifts a knee and drops onto the bed beside him with a soft thump, spreading her legs and cozying into the pillows like she owns the place. He chokes on a breath that comes up short in his chest.

“Get comfy. You’re going to be down there for a while. I want to come until I can’t anymore.”

Again, she has him floored. They experimented with his overstimulation before, and tonight she wants him to help her test her own limits. He swallows and nods eagerly.

“Yeah. Of-- of course. Yes. Do you want me to…?” He gestures down at himself, still fully clothed.

Penny, with her hair spread out around her head like a halo and a manicured fingernail between her teeth, shrugs. “Take off your jeans. I don’t want your pretty cock to suffocate.”

Shawn’s abdomen clenches and he covers the inhuman noise he makes with a weak chuckle. His “pretty cock” twitches hard, reacting to the compliment.

He ditches his boots, socks and jeans and nestles up on his stomach between her thighs, breathing softly.

“So fuckin’ pretty and wet,” he praises, shaking his head in disbelief. She smiles like she’s heard it before, and he’s sure she has. 

He turns his face into her inner thigh and sucks some soft, wet skin into his mouth, releasing a muffled groan as she inhales. Reluctantly, he releases her without leaving a mark, knowing he should ask permission before he tries to go that far. His eyes flicker to hers. They’re dark and unreadable, steady on him as she waits patiently. He figures she’s not in a rush. They have all night for him to make her come. His own needs are barely a blip on his radar. He’s focused on her, on her flushed pink folds, her clenching stomach, her full, touchable breasts.

She might need to beg him to leave her alone once she lets him loose. He’s not going to want to come up for air ever again.

Shawn takes a deep breath and dives in, humming as he sucks her inner labia into his mouth. Penny’s hips shift, her body melting into the bed gracefully as she relaxes. Shawn eyes her from over the soft curve of her stomach, easing up to swipe his tongue against her slowly and watch how she reacts to every little move he makes.

If she can study him, he can study her, too, learn exactly how she likes to be touched, to be tasted, to be fucked. He wants to know everything, wants to internalize it so he can attempt to bring her a fraction of the bliss she’s brought him. By the way her back arches slightly when he flicks at the hood of her clit, he’s making progress.

+

Shawn has officially lost count of her orgasms.

He’s past painfully hard and it’s becoming more and more apparent that he needs to come or he’s gonna, like, die, but he refuses to break and beg for it.

They’ve taken short breaks, but he hasn’t left her, receding only as far as her inner thighs that he sucks and lavishes with kisses while they talk quietly as she recovers. He tells her about his trip home next week, about having to get on the road for the festival tour soon after. He mumbles hopes and nerves and dreams and concerns as she runs her fingers through his hair and asks thoughtful questions even after four or five orgasms, so her brain is more mush than useful. But he shows no signs of wanting to go anywhere, especially now that he’s learned the tricks that get her loud and twitchy and coming hard on his needy tongue. So they lie there on the bed in the same position, right into the small hours of the morning.

Shawn hums gratefully as he sweeps up her next orgasm, relishing the shivers he feels as he holds the base of her ribcage. He grunts and noses at her neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair, sighing hot and loud against her folds.

“Yes?” she chuckles.

He shifts uncomfortably against the bed and lifts his gaze, looking like a guilty puppy.

“I’m… nothing. It’s ok.”

Penny comes up on shaky forearms and traces her soft toes up his back, snagging at the t-shirt he’s still wearing.

“You sure? You don’t need anything?” she whispers. His ears go red. She’s teasing him. He juts his chin out stubbornly and shakes his head, focuses instead on tonguing circles around her throbbing clit. He watches in satisfaction as her abdomen tenses and she releases an involuntary grunt of approval as her body beckons to him.

“You’ve been hard for a couple hours. Keep grinding your hips against the bed. Wouldn’t you rather me help you come?”

Shawn’s eyes fix on hers tentatively. He’s not sure how she wants him to proceed. He wasn’t going to ask, he really wasn’t. But at the idea that he might get to come soon, his cock pulses in his boxers, still leaking in the same spot.

“Only… if you want me to.”

Penny beams down at him in a way that has him hiding his face in her slick inner thigh. She strokes his curls, encouraging him to look at her.

“I want you to ask me nicely.”

Shawn heaves a sigh. He noses curiously at her clit, presses a little kiss to her folds.

“May I please come now?”

His voice is soft and quiet. He’s not used to begging.

Not yet, anyway.

Penny keeps her fingers moving through his hair, waiting for more.

“Say it again, Shawn.”

“I… please, Penny. I’ve been so good. Please let me come for you?”

She blinks slowly, lazily, drugged by the power he so freely drops into her hands. At her reaction, he swallows and continues.

“Please,” he hisses, pressing more needy kisses to anywhere he can reach, “Penny, I’ll come so good for you. I’m so fucking hard. Just want to come once and then I’ll keep eating your fucking perfect pussy. Please, Penny, I want to come.”

The corners of her mouth lift in a dangerous grin. She bobs her head, pushing at his hair so he’ll ease back from between her legs. 

“Take your shirt off.”

Shawn sits up and yanks at the collar, throwing it over his head. His chest is pink, heavily flushed from their hours of fucking. Her eyes scrape over his every curve and angle, and she’d be lying to herself if she thought it wasn’t mostly to keep him waiting for her. She pulls her legs together, rubbing her wet thighs as she considers him.

“Boxers, too.”

Shawn stands for expediency’s sake and drops them without ceremony, kicking them off his ankles. His hands curl into fists to keep himself from grabbing at his swollen pink cock.

Penny licks her lips obscenely. She eyes him, head cocked, and crooks her finger. He climbs back onto the bed.

“Come here,” she whispers, flattening her legs and waving him forward.

Unsure of what she wants, unable to do anything but follow her lead, Shawn kneewalks on either side of her until he straddles her torso, positioned over her chest.

Penny smirks as she looks him over, lets her hands wander over his tensed thighs, his rippling stomach, his slim hips and tight little ass. Shawn’s toes curl. His hands stay at his sides.

“Wanna watch you touch yourself. Wanna feel you come on my tits, would you like that?”

He chokes on air. Would he like that? Jesus Christ.

He nods frantically, curling a fist around his cock. His whole body shakes with a relieved sigh. As her small hands smooth up and down his quads, he pumps in and out of his fist, scrunching his face at the filthy sound of it.

“Oh, fuck,” he swears, shaking his head, “Fuck, I love being good for you.”

When he can manage to open his eyes, Penny is staring up at him in wonder, looking between his face and his thrusting hips. She bites down on her lower lip.

“Good. God, you’re so fucking hot, so hard for me.”

Shawn hangs his head, groaning loud and unabashed as his orgasm starts to coil hot in his lower abdomen.

“Penny… gonna come. Gonna come on your pretty tits.”

Penny wets her lips and tries not to look like she’s aching for it. She closes her eyes briefly, brushes her hands up around his hips to grip the cheeks of his ass.

Her eyes open.

“Shawn, are you my good boy?”

She brings a hand down hard on his right cheek, the resounding smack of skin on skin propelling him forward through the wall of his orgasm.

He screams, breathing into a growl of her name, spurting hard onto her chest. His hips snap desperately, his hand pumps his cock through one of the strongest orgasms he’s ever had. His head falls forward to rest against the cushioned headboard, looking down at her as he remembers how to breathe again.

“Guess you are my good boy, then,” she preens, skimming her hands over his body again as he sits back on his heels.

“Holy… shit.”

“Feel good, Shawn?”

He blinks blearily and manages to nod. With a huff, he lifts himself onto newborn horse legs and stumbles to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. Without her even asking, he carefully sweeps the cloth over her chest, cleaning his orgasm off her perfect breasts. He tosses the cloth aside and gazes down at her. She smiles. He sighs.

“You’re… exactly who I need right now.”

They’re Penny’s favorite words to hear from a client. They represent absolute success. They make her proud, despite the prejudices and misconceptions surrounding her job. The look on his face right now is the reason she is here. Her heart gives an extra squeeze. She reaches for him, folds him down beside her and guides his head onto her chest. Without another word, they fall asleep.

--------

Hope this goes well with your Sunday morning coffee <3 speaking of Ko-fi, buy me one if you feel like it! Link in bio.

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[jbbuckybarnes]

Zerfall - 6/14

Pairing: Bucky x named!Reader (Agent Andromeda) Summary: After Hydra drops virus bombs in 7 major American cities in the height of summer, the team is locked in their emergency bunker for weeks. The virus commonly called the Summer Poison successfully brought the infrastructure to a halt in all big cities. When the virus slowly starts burning itself out SHIELD Agents and Avengers are sent out to bring back order into the cities and the international relationships. Not without hurdles. Warnings for this chapter: Pandemic, crime, canon typical violence, flirting, picturing killing as a positive thing, weird grammar. Not beta read. **Image credit goes to Ubisoft.

Zerfall Masterlist || M a s t e r l i s t

You’d been walking for about half a block when you were yanked towards a bus to hide behind. “There’s five of them, northeast,” he whispered and got the AR off his back. You scanned the area, “It’s not five. It’s 8, great,” you mumbled. “I go left, you go right,” he ordered and after a little countdown by hand you slowly sneaked your way from car to car until you were both close enough. You took the safety off two pistols before looking over and nodding. Both of you came out of your covers in perfect sync, killing 5 of them instantly. Three of them run to get cover and you ran EADA again to know where all of them were exactly. An easier thing to do if you had those damn contact lenses. “Damn agents!” One of them yelled. “Shut up, whiny baby,” you yelled back, getting out of cover in time to land a perfect headshot. “The Vultures will come for you, bitch!” Another one yelled. “Sorry, can’t hear you over how good I’ll land a headshot on you.” You smirked and landed the next one in sync with Bucky. “Don’t call my partner a bitch,” he said before walking to the cover of the last one, grabbing him with his metal arm and holding him up. “Help us or die,” he growled up at the young man. “No,” he croaked before going unconscious and being thrown onto the floor and hit in the heart by another shot. “I see, you like a little bit of the drama too.” You chuckled before helping him search through their weapons and ammunition. “Always.” He grinned over, picking up a few cartridges of ammo and chugging them into his bag on the back of his tactical belt. “Let’s get going then. We need to get to a safe house today.” You smiled and cut the dog tags off the dead bodies that had them. His brow went up, “Wanna count how many people betrayed their country. And maybe these come in handy if they have a boss that actually cares about them.” “Forget it, only psychopaths would start something like this.” He kicked the man that had insulted her earlier. It seemed to really annoy him. Maybe it was just his 40s brain that wanted the respect for a woman, cause he definitely had a foul mouth in the army and didn’t expect her to not curse like a sailor. He actually was kinda excited about that part for some reason.

On the way to the safe house you came across some groups of three, taking them down easily in less than a few seconds. You were already starting to work in perfect sync when it came to combat. You made note of the buildings that were clearly guarded and when you got to the Consulate General of Mexico you made note of all the guards and scanned the area. 12 people that you could see and scan for. “Guarding duty is the most boring thing ever.” One of them mumbled to the other and you looked over at Bucky who winked back at you while getting a grenade from his belt. “Hm, at least it isn’t patrolling.” Something clinked onto the floor in between the two guards on the left and the one on the right. Before they could even start a word there was an explosion and you got out your AR and he got out his. “Showtime.” you grinned while taking aim at all the suddenly alert and confused guards. One, two, three, four, five, all dead in less than a minute. 4 left in their cover. Bucky took the marksman rifle from his back and aimed up at where they were hiding. Hitting them with astonishing accuracy, hearing a thud after each one. “Wow, that was impressive, Barnes,” you said surprised at the actual level of skill he had from his tortured years. “Glad I can use it for good now,” he answered as if he was able to read your thoughts at that moment. “I’m glad too.” You smiled over at him before you both stormed into the building, checking for more guards inside and taking 4 out with silencers on your pistols or a knife into their throat. “I really got the best agent as a partner, huh?” He grinned as you walked toward a safety door. “I guess you do.” You grinned back before hacking the door open. As he wanted to close the door behind you, you gestured him to stop. “Loot the dudes outside and bring as much of the weapons and ammo inside of here for other agents,” you ordered him and got a serious nod back. Your eyes scanned the room for a laptop or computer with a drive attached to it and after a while of looking around you found it. “Gotcha.” You smirked hacking your way through the information, downloading it onto your EADA. While it was doing that you finally took the backpack that was sitting in a locker and went through it. “Finally.” You breathed out exhausted, getting a look from Bucky that was just dumping some guns into the room. You got out the SAID agent vest that was going to regenerate by itself and put it around your chest. Then you made a dig through the side pockets for the contact lenses, getting another weirded out look from your partner. “What the hell are you doing?” He finally spoke out what went through his head. “These link up to the watch and I can see where enemies are hiding and where friendlies are if they fight with us. I also have a scope attachment that can do that if you ever need that,” you explained to him with a proud smile on your face. He shook his head grinning, “You’re a nerd.” After you got both of your backpacks situated into one and everything was done with your equipment, you wandered back to the computer that had finished with the drive a few minutes before. “Holy shit,” you muttered at the screen and Bucky’s steps led next to you. “The red parts are enemy bases, the symbols above them are the factions of enemies, these are the shadow zones in dark purple and...there we have a settlement, a big one.” You pointed at the library closer to the Empire State Building, about two blocks down from where you were currently situated. He looked up from the map with a hopeful face directly at you, “Then let’s get there and help those people.” If there was one thing you had already learned about him, it was that he wanted nobody to suffer from something Hydra did to them and he’d do anything to help people right now.

“Why do I have the feeling that this day will be a long one?” He speculated while you walked down the first block. “Well, we’ll get a ton of new information on the current situation from them. That’s gonna be pushing us from now on, ain’t it?” You smiled at the road ahead. “Guess you’re right. I’m just afraid we can’t help that much,” he mumbled. “We can, don’t get into your own head about it.” Your hand landed on his shoulder. “I try.” He gave you a soft smile of appreciation. “I mean, key points of enemies to take over seems like a lot of fun to me if all of them are this bad at their job.” You giggled. “They are the worst, aren’t they?” He laughed. “Horrible, Bucky. Absolutely horrible.” You chuckled and then both of you calmed down again and went back into Avengers mode. “Check every backpack you find on the way, Bucky. They might need what’s in there,” you told him, knowing there might be tech, textiles and other things in them. They were everywhere on the side of the streets and in house entrances. By the dawn both of you finally reach the settlement, visible from afar by the guard towers and big gates they made with trucks and billboards. You saw them aim at both of you for a while before you heard someone yell and the weapons went down. “He yelled to get their boss.” Bucky translated next to you. “Thanks, super hearing dork.” You nudged him and had an arm on the small of your back a second later. “Probably a vet. I bet on it.” He looked down at you, feeling oddly protective towards you because of a possibly very stressed out military man. “He’ll have to follow my lead tho. It’s my specialty to unapocalypse.” You heard him chuckle as a few guards came towards you. “So good to see you, Agent. Hello, Mr. Barnes.” A young man welcomed you. “We’re glad we finally found you.” You smiled at them and scanned their equipment for a second. “Our Captain will be glad to finally see you too.” A girl smiled and nudged her head towards the gate. “A Captain, not bad.” Bucky nudged you as you walked in. “Probably the only reason this is still holding up. Let’s be honest, Buck,” you said looking around while walking into the library part of the building. What was a museum before was now used as a home. The bookshelves were freed from their glass casing. There were beds all around and a corner with food and water. “It’s probably nice to have all these books to distract you. Especially for the children,” you mumbled before a big door opened.

A big bulky man came through the door, not as scary as Bucky could look, but intimidating enough to keep this place together, you assumed. “Agent! Sergeant! Richard Davis. Nice to finally see you. What took so long?” He laughed and shook hands with both of you. “Stark didn’t let us out of his bunker until it was safe enough and some idiots were guarding the place our safe house was in. How’s it going here and where do you need the most help?” He chuckled, “That list is long. I did as much as possible with my Air Force and Agent background to train the men and women around here, but it’s only enough to defend this place and get the occasional food. We need as many buildings as possible around here cleared to have more supplies to make this a self-sufficient little tribe. We thankfully have the doctor's office across the street occupied but we need more stuff to make this a solid foundation. The school around the corner on 35th is still full of Vulture idiots. Could you clear that up? Would definitely earn complete trust from the skeptics here.” He looked around in the room. “With a bit of ammo and help from a few of your people, we can do that in about...30 minutes.” You looked up from your watch and saw a surprised but happy face. “I’ll get my men ready. Patricia? Show them where they can find ammo and other weapons.”

About 45 minutes later you were surrounding the school, EADA scanning the surroundings for anyone and anything. “You all stay back and let us do the main work, understood?” You looked back at the amateur shooters. “Yes, Agent.” One of them whispered. “Bucky?” You looked over and he looked up, “Go.” He took down two men with silenced guns, then gave another one a knife and kicked the fourth one into the next bush. It was magnificent to watch him do all of this with no sound coming from him. “That’s not a Sergeant. That’s a General, my dear.” Captain Davis watched the almost beautiful choreography of kills in front of him. “He’s something, isn’t he?” You grinned before getting up and following Bucky through the door he had opened up. “Getting the hallway safe, then you can do the rooms with your shotguns. Be safe,” you whispered into the earpiece. “Got it.”

Reblog if you liked this (or Alpine will haunt you!)

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[fanfic-fangirl]

The Beginning Chapter 1

Pairing- Bucky/Winter Soldier x Mutant Reader

A Winter Soldier/Reader Alternate Timeline Fan-fic. This is book 1 of my series, The Spring Soldier. Takes place after Captain America: The First Avenger but before the Avengers.

A/N: So, I started this fic in 2017, so when reading, please keep that in mind. It’s still not complete, but I’m working on wrapping it up!

Summary:

The reader is a mutant, who has been hiding her abilities since they manifested, she’s never told anyone, not even her parents. She was too afraid they would turn on her or register her and she’d be taken away. She’s a veterinarian living alone on her farm. Both her parents are dead, having left the farm to her. She lives in a small rural town outside New York City.

One night, she hears gun shots and assumes it’s poachers she knows she won’t find anything if she goes out during the night and also risks the poachers turning on her, so she waits til morning, to see if she can find the potentially injured animal. She goes into the barn, having followed her cat and finds an unconscious and injured Winter Soldier. Having a soft spot for injured strays, she decides she’s going to help him until he wakes.

When he does finally wake, everything changes and her secret is exposed. She never expected her life to go in such a drastic direction, but, now that she’s on this path, she’s determined to travel it with him.

First Meetings

She had heard the gunshots and the dogs late last night, which she assumed were from poachers.  She knew there was no point in going out to find them, so, instead, she got up early to find the animal that more than likely got away.  Hopefully she'd be able to find it and nurse it back to health, before releasing it.  Worst case scenario, the animal had gotten away and been so wounded, it had died during the night, she hoped that wasn't the case.

While walking to her barn, her cat walked up to her, weaving between her legs.  He always greeted her whenever she came outside.  He was another animal she had rescued, he had been hit by a car and she found him on her way home one evening. She brought him back, fixed him up and he hasn't left since.

Who is she, you ask, her name is ___ ___, a veterinarian living in the rural area near Long Island, New York.  She had a private practice on her farm there, she saw a few animals at her home, more often than not, she made house calls for the animals that were too large to be brought in.  It was something she loved and had wanted to do her entire life.  When her Father died from a heart attack, she moved back in to help her mother who had had a stroke a few months before.  Her mother's health quickly began to decline and she died a few months later.  Now, it was just her, alone on her farm and she wouldn't have it any other way.  Of course, that didn't stop some of the local busy bodies in town, from trying their hardest to set her up with their sons and nephews.  They just couldn't understand how such a young woman would be happy living alone without a man to help her.

Of course, there were other reasons as to why she preferred to stay single.  She was what they called, a mutant.  She was one of the lucky ones, though, her mutant power wasn't obvious, so as far as anyone knew, she was a normal human. She had even kept the secret from her parents, she knew that if they found out, they'd send her to one of the mutant camps to have her “cured”.  She rather liked her power, it allowed her a lot of freedom.  She was one of the mutants blessed with the gift of wings, but her wings weren't like the others.  They weren't always exposed, she was able to absorb them into her body, the downfall to that, the mass of her wings had to go somewhere, so it would be distributed through her body as excess fat cells, which made her a little on the hefty side.  There were many nights, when she couldn't sleep, on those nights, she would just fly around instead.  She would fly to clear her head, to help her stop thinking about how her life hadn't gone the way she had thought.

Like now, here she was, out in the snow, getting ready to find the animal some poachers had been hunting last night.  She followed her cat, who she had named, Lucky, not the most original, but he was lucky she had come across him, otherwise he wouldn't be here to greet her every time she came outside.

“Hey, Lucky, you're awfully affectionate this morning.” She smiled, bending down to pick him up.  He nuzzled against her face, always happy to see her, he let out a small meow, then squirmed out of her arms and ran into the barn.

“What's wrong, Lucky?  You're usually a little more affectionate than that.” She asked, following the black and white cat into the barn.

When she opened the door, Lucky was standing there, waiting for her, he let out another cry and ran further into the barn, towards the back door.

“Lucky, what are you doing?” She asked, continuing to follow her cat.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw where Lucky had stopped.  He was sitting on the lap of a man.  A very injured man.

“Oh, shit!  Mister, hey mister!  Are you ok?” She asked running over and kneeling next to the man who had managed to sit himself in the chair she left by the back door. She quickly grabbed his left arm to feel for a pulse, but it was cold and very firm.  She pulled the glove off, gasping at the metal that was shinning back at her.  Remembering she needed to know if he was still alive or not, she decided not to take the chance his other arm was also metal, she felt for a pulse on his neck.  She found it. Faint, but it was there.

“I think we've found another Lucky.” She smiled down at her cat, who was still sitting in the man's lap.

“He doesn't look light.  How am I going to  get him into the house?” She asked, moving his hair out of his face, so she could get a better look at him.

“Handsome.  Shit, I bet he's who the dogs were looking for last night.  Whoever was looking for you, I sure hope you're the good guy.” She sighed, kneeling with her back towards him, pulling his arms over her shoulders, so she could carry him on her back.

It took all of her strength, but she managed to stand up with him on her back.  Slowly, she made it into her house and to her bedroom on the first floor.  Normally she would have given the guest one of the bedrooms on the second floor, but she knew she wouldn't be able to carry him all the way up the stairs.

Once she got the stranger situated in her bed, she took a minute to look him over.  He was covered in blood, she assumed most of it was his.  She went to her office where she kept all her veterinary supplies, grabbed a few things and headed back to her patient.  She lay everything out on her dresser, the IV, needles, gloves, scissors, cotton swabs, iodine, and various other things she would use to clean him up.  She was prepared to give him stitches, but once she got his shirt cut open and off, she found no open wounds, a few scratches and bruises, but nothing too serious.

“Wow, you really are one lucky guy. Got away with just a few scrapes and bruises.” She then looked at his metal arm and took it in her hand.

“I wonder if you were running from whoever did this to you?  Don't worry, mister, you're safe from whoever wants to hurt you, here.  What kind of monsters did this to a person?

” She sighed, gently placing his metal arm back on the bed so she could begin cleaning the few open wounds he did have.

It didn't take her long to clean him up and get him all set up with an IV, she figured he was dehydrated and since she wasn't sure how long he would be out, she didn't want to take the chance of his recovery not going as fast as it could because he wasn't getting the nutrients his body needed.

Now that he was fully treated, she began to take off his shoes.  While she was looking up at him, she noticed a hole in his pants, it was wet, with what she assumed, was blood.  Looking up at Lucky, who was laying on the man's chest, watching her, she sighed and  asked, “How did I not think to look at his legs for injuries.  Mister, I'm really sorry about this, I'm not trying to be a perv or anything.”

She got up and grabbed the scissors that she had set on the night stand next to the bed, then back to the bottom of his pants and began to cut them off.  Lucky let out a little meow to remind her that he was watching.

“I know, don't worry, I'm not going to do anything.  Damn, this is embarrassing!” She replied, thankful the man was out cold and couldn't see the inevitable blush that was forming.  Sure, she had studied some human anatomy in school, but never on an actual person.  There was a reason she became a vet instead of a doctor, besides trying to keep her mutant ability a secret, the thought of having to deal with naked people, made her extremely uncomfortable.  More specifically, having to deal with partially naked men telling her about their ailments.  Nope, animals would be much easier to deal with, no chance of embarrassment there, and no judgmental thoughts to worry about.

Once she finally managed to cut his pants away, that's where she saw it, there was a bullet hole in his leg.  Sliding her hand under his leg, she felt for an exit wound, she didn't feel anything, which meant the bullet was still inside.

“Looks like I'm gonna have to dig that out.  Lucky, don't let Lucky 2 get up.” She said deciding to give the stranger some kind of name.  Running back to her office to get some foresnips to try and dig the bullet out.  She wasn't gone long, Lucky was still lying on the man's chest, continuing to watch her.

“You know, we really should call him something other than mister or Lucky 2, how about we just call him Luke until he wakes up to tell us his real name?” She asked Lucky as she began to dig inside the wound for the bullet, Lucky just replied with a soft meow.  As she was digging in his leg, he began to groan and squirm, she looked up, seeing the look of pain on his face, she felt bad, but there was nothing she could do about the pain.  She could feel the bullet and didn't want to go back to the office to find the local anesthetic she had.  It would take to long to wait for it to kick in, not to mention, she almost had the bullet out.  He began to fidget his leg more, so she had to put part of her weight on it to finish pulling the bullet out.

“I'm really sorry, Luke, but the bullet is almost out.  Just bear with me a little longer.” She grunted as she finally pulled the bullet out of the wound.

“There!  Got it, now, let's stitch that bad boy closed.” She said, placing the bullet on a towel she had lying next to her on the floor.  Once the bullet was out, Luke had calmed down and stopped moving, his breathing was slightly labored, but he seemed to be calming down.  Looking back at the wound, she had a thought.  “You know, maybe I should numb this first.  Don't want to risk him waking up and freaking out on me.” So again, she got up and went find the cream of local anesthetic, she hoped it would numb the area just enough so she could get the stitches in without him squirming all over the place.  If she was going to do the stitches right, she wanted him to be as still as possible.

“Ok, almost done!” She smiled at Lucky, who had jumped back on Luke's chest, he had jumped off when Luke started squirming while the bullet was being removed.

___ rubbed a fair amount of the cream into Luke's leg around the wound once she got it cleaned up and added a cauterizing agent so it would stop bleeding.  She gave it about five minutes, before she started stitching the wound closed.  Once closed, she wrapped his leg to prevent any infection from getting into it.  She stood up and looked at her handy work, she was quite impressed with herself, especially considering she'd never done any kind of procedure on a human before.  Then, realizing the man was half naked, she blushed again and turned away.

“Right, we need to get you some pants.  I think I still have some of my dad's old sweats upstairs. They should fit well enough.  Be right back, Lucky.” she said, leaving the room and making her way upstairs to her parents old room.

After their deaths a few years ago, she had decided to leave their room the way it was.  She just couldn't bring herself to change it.  Even though they were gone and she knew they were never coming back, it still brought comfort to her, knowing their room was still there, just as they had left it.

She stood in the doorway a few minutes, after opening the door, to look at the room.  It had been a few months since she had last felt the need to enter.  On the nights when she would have really bad nightmares, she would come in here and sleep.  The room still smelled like her parents and she found it comforting when she would have nightmares, it was like they were still here, helping her.

She took a deep breath and walking into the room, straight to the dresser.  She didn't have to look for long, since she knew where her father kept all his clothes.  She used to help her mother put laundry away when she was still too small to help with the outside chores.  Once she had a pair in her hand, she closed the drawer and walked to the door.  She stopped and turned around, taking one last look before she closed the door and made her way back downstairs.

“You know, Lucky, maybe I should finally get around to changing mom and dad's bedroom.  I've always wanted a library and I think mom and dad would like it if I turned their room into a library.  What do you think?” She asked as she walked back into the room, looking at her cat, he just gave her a slow blink in response.

“Yea, you're right, maybe once spring rolls around, then we can consider turning it into a library.” She chuckled, as she struggled to put the pants on Luke.  “Man, you're heavier than you look!” she grunted as she finally got them up to his waist.  The she stood up and took a step back, looking over her work, smiling.

“That should do it for now.  I'll be back in a few hours to check on you again.” She said, as she threw a blanket over him, covering Lucky, who didn't mind at all.  He'd crawl out from underneath when he was ready.  Now that he was all cleaned up and tucked in, she cleaned up the mess she had made, with everything in the bowl she brought in, she took one final look at the man, before shutting the door, leaving enough of a crack so Lucky could come and go as he pleased.

  The next couple of days were quiet, she went about her daily routine, checking on Luke every few hours, changing his bandages as needed and cleaning up the mess from when he would urinate in his sleep.  Now she was really wishing she had learned about catheters in school, but you usually didn't use them for animals, so she saw no need to keep any on hand.  She made a note, that the next time she ordered supplies, she would definitely be ordering catheters.  She doubted she would ever use them, but she'd rather have them on hand anyway.

  It was early evening on the fourth day after she found Luke in her barn.  She had come home from a particularly messy job and just finished her shower.  Now that she was all clean, she made a fire, since it had started to snow and it was her main source of heat in the house.  Once she had the fire going, she decided to cook dinner.  She was reheating left over spaghetti.  She had her favorite mix tape playing while she cooked, singing and dancing along with it.  Completely oblivious to the movements that were happening in her bedroom.

Luke had woken up.  He blinked a few times and looked around the room.  This was definitely not a HYDRA installation.  He sat up and cringed when he felt the pinch in his arm and pain in his leg.  He looked at his arm first, seeing the IV, he quickly pulled it out.  Though it didn't look like HYDRA, he wouldn't put it passed them to put him in a setting like this to test him, make sure he was loyal.  He winced as he moved his leg, feeling the pain from the bullet he remembered being shot with.  Even though he had been injected with the super soldier serum, it didn't do to much in helping him heal faster.  It helped a little, but not as much as he would have liked.

As he tried to get up, he heard a meow, looking down next to his feet, there sat a black and white tabby. They starred at each other for a minute, before the cat got up and rubbed up against his legs.  He smiled at the action and wondered what kind of HYDRA agent would have a cat as a pet.  Then he noticed music coming from the other side of the cracked door.  He slowly got up and did his best to limp over to the door, upon opening it, he was hit with something he wasn't sure if he had ever smelt before.  Just what kind of HYDRA agent was this?  They had a cat, listening to music and cooked their own food?  His curiosity getting the better of him, he slowly and as quietly as he could, crept to where the music was coming from.

He was shocked when he saw her.  She was definitely not an agent he had ever seen before.  She was short in stature, with long (h/c) hair and a little on the chunky side. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt with shorts that came to mid-thigh and she was dancing and singing along to her music while she cooked.  This was definitely not the normal behavior of a HYDRA agent, not to mention she would be considered unfit as an agent and would never be allowed in the field.  Her guard was down and she was alone, this also went against all HYDRA protocol.  Then he remembered how he had gotten injured.  He had disobeyed a direct order during a mission and managed to get away.  He remembered running through the forest and being chased, but the memory starts to get fuzzy after he was shot.

Though he doubted she was  HYDRA, he couldn't be to sure and felt it best to keep his guard up.  Lost in thought, he quickly looked up when she screamed and he heard glass shattering. His presence clearly startled her.  Did she expect him to stay in bed after he woke up?

  ___ was definitely not expecting her patient to be up so soon.  She thought he would have been out a few more days, so when she turned around and saw him standing in the doorway to her kitchen, she couldn't help but scream and drop her bowl of spaghetti, jumping back as the hot sauce hit her legs.  She fell when her foot landed on a sharp piece of ceramic, falling on the food and shattered ceramic, getting a few more cuts as she tried to get up.  He cautiously walked over to her and offered her his flesh hand.  She looked up at it, then him and smiled.

“Sorry, you startled me.  You'd been asleep for so long, I was beginning to think you weren't ever going to wake up.” She said, scooting back so her back hit the cabinet behind her.  Once she had her uninjured foot stable and not on any sharp ceramic pieces, she took his hand and let him help her stand up.

“Thank you.” She said as she adjusted the weight on her good foot and placed booth hands on the counter behind her to help stabilize her.  “How are you feeling?” she asked before limping over to her fridge and digging out the broom she kept in the space between the fridge and the wall.  All Luke did was watch her, still certain this was a ruse to get him to drop his guard.

She stopped and looked at him, waiting for an answer, but all he did was stare back at her.

“You look better, that's for sure.” She still smiled as she hobbled back over the mess she had made, stopping to get something from under the sink, he tensed and was ready to attack, thinking she was getting a weapon of some kind, he relaxed a little when he saw her grab a dust pan and a towel.

“How's your leg?  I did the best I could getting the bullet out and did a decent job on the stitches. You'll have a scar, but something tells me you don't really mind scars.” she said as she looked at his left shoulder, where metal met skin.  He, too, looked at his bare shoulder, then back at her, wondering why she wasn't fazed by it at all.  She had bent down and was picking up the large pieces of the ceramic bowl she had dropped.

“You can sit down, you know.  I'll have this cleaned up in just a minute, then I can set up a bowl for you.  I hope you like spaghetti.” She said, not even bothering to look up at him as she continued to clean up her mess.  She did find it odd at how quiet he was.  If she was in his shoes, she'd be asking all kinds of questions about where she was and who he was and what happened.  She just figured he was still a little confused and disoriented from being unconscious for so long.  She was sure he'd talk when he was ready.

She smiled a little when she heard the chair move and give a small creak when weight was added to it.

“My name's ___, by the way.”

He just looked at her quizzically and his brows furrowed.  Was she expecting him to tell her his name in return?

“I didn't know your name, so I've been calling you Luke.” She said, sitting on her haunches and looking up at him.

“Luke?” He said, it didn't sound or feel familiar, so he was sure that wasn't his name.  His concentration was broken by a small meow and something brushing up against his legs.

“And that's Lucky, he's the one who found you in my barn and he's been keeping watch over you while you slept.  Only left to go to the bathroom and eat, otherwise, he was in the room with you the whole time.  He doesn't usually take to strangers so quickly, but I'm glad he likes you.” She said with a small chuckle.

He groaned and clutched his head in pain, slamming his fist on the table as images of people quickly flashed in his mind, it was as if they were screaming to be remembered.  ___ looked up at him, startled by the loud noise. Seeing the distress he was in, she quickly got up, forgetting about the pain in her own foot, and ran over to him, kneeling next to him. Her hand on one shoulder, while the other one ran through his hair, getting it out of his face so she could get a better look at him, trying to see if there was a wound she had missed that might be causing him pain now.  She didn't see anything.

“Luke, are you ok?  What's wrong?” She asked, her hand quickly moving down the side of his face, over his cheek and under his jaw, lifting it up to look at her.

Once the pain had gone and the images had stopped, he opened his eyes and looked straight into hers.  They were full of nothing but concern.  Not a look he was accustomed to seeing.

“I don't remember my name, but I know that's not it.”  He opened his eyes when he heard her let out a small chuckle, the look of concern was gone and was replaced with a smile.  Again, not something he was used to seeing on the people he worked for.

“I figured as much, but sadly, it's gonna have to do until you remember yours.  Are you hungry?” she asked, standing up and limping over to the stove.

That's when he noticed the trail of blood her foot was leaving.

“You're bleeding.” He said, looking up at her.  He watched as she turned to look at him, then at the floor, seeing the blood she left as she stepped.

“I guess I am.  Well, let me make you a bowl, then I'll go patch my foot up and join you.” she said, returning to her original task of getting him something to eat.  Once she set it down in front of him, she sat down as well, clearly forgetting about her foot again.

“It's been a few days since you've had anything solid in you.  Make sure you eat slow, so you don't throw it up right away.  You're stomach needs to get used to having solids in it.  If this is too much for you to handle, I have some soup that I could heat up instead.  I probably should have tried that first.” she mumbled the last part more to herself than to him.

He looked at her, still smiling at him. He was a little weary of the fact that she wasn't eating anything. It made him think she had put something in his food.  Even though he watched everything she had done, and didn't see her add anything, he couldn't be too sure.  She was a stranger and for all he knew, she wanted to kill him.

“Is it too hot?  Should I heat up the soup instead?” She asked, worried as to why he wasn't eating.

She went to get up, but he stopped her by grabbing her wrist, looking at the contact, she sat back down and looked at him, that look of concern gracing her features once again.

“Why are you being so nice and helping me?” he asked, his grip on her wrist tightening, she winced at the increase in pressure.

“I don't know.” She replied, trying to pull her wrist out of his grasp, only causing him to hold it tighter.

“Did they order you to help me?  Is this some kind of test?” He asked his voice harsher, his grip tightening still.

His eyes never left hers.  He watched as they began to water.  Watched for any indication she was HYDRA, that this was a test of loyalty, a test to see how he would react if he thought he wasn't being monitored, if he thought he had truly succeeded in escaping them. He watched as panic took over her features, as she struggled to free herself.

“Ow, you're hurting me!  Let go!” She said, her voice laced with the first signs of panic and the look on her face quickly changing to that of fear.  He watched as she tried to pry his hand off her wrist, but she was no match for his strength.

“Who are you working for!” He demanded as he practically yelled at her.

She could feel the panic as it began to bubble up to the surface.  She knew that if she let it take over, she wouldn't be able to keep her wings hidden.  The last thing she wanted to do was expose her secret to him, but the tighter his grip got and the angrier he looked, the harder and harder it was to keep the overwhelming feeling of panic under control.  Then, when he yelled at her, demanding to know who she worked for, she lost it.

“I SAID, LET GO!” She screamed as wings exploded from her back.

Luke was bowled over and pushed across the floor by the wind that her wings created as they burst forth from her back, hitting the wall behind him.  Eyes wide, he looked up to see the girl standing in front of him, her shirt barely hanging on to her shoulders, her shorts in tatters on the floor.  She was panting and her eyes conveyed nothing but fear and panic as she crossed her arms over her chest, cradling the wrist he had been holding and also preventing her shirt from completely falling off and exposing all of her to the stranger laying on her kitchen floor.

That's when he knew.  He knew there was no way she was a HYDRA agent.  If she was, he would have heard about her, he would have gone on missions with her.  He would know if HYDRA had an angel on their side.

Luke never took his eyes off her as he eased himself up into a sitting position.  Leaning against the wall, letting it support him as he tried to process what had just happened. He let his eyes wander up and down, noticing how her appearance had changed.  She was slimmer now, her face still held that look of panic and fear.  He had seen that look many times in people before he killed them.  She was afraid for her life.

“I'm sorry.” Luke said as he finally moved to stand up.  Once he was stable, he went to take a step towards her, but she only limped back.

“I thought you were trying to hurt me.” He said as he bent over and set the chair he had been sitting in, up right, then sat in it.  Trying his best to show her that he wasn't going to hurt her.

“Why would I fix you up, just to try to hurt you later?” she asked, after a few minutes of silence and once she was sure he wasn't going to try and hurt her again.

“Because that's the kind of thing the people I work for would do.” He answered, letting out a heavy sigh as he did.

“The people you work for are messed up.” She scoffed as she took a few hesitant steps towards one of the chairs sitting at the table.

“I know.  It's ok, you can sit down. I'm not going to hurt you.” he said as he looked down at his metal arm.  He really hated that arm.

“Are the people you work for the one's who gave you that arm?” she asked, finally sitting down in the chair.  Luke just nodded.

“Are they also the one's who shot you?  And the reason I found you passed out in my barn?” She asked, pulling the shirt up on her shoulder, as it had slid down a little when she walked to her chair.

Again, he just nodded.

“The people you work for really suck!” she huffed.

He couldn't help but give a small smile at her words, the smile quickly disappeared as he realized they would be looking for him.  Which meant, she wasn't safe and if HYDRA found out about her and her ability, they would stop at nothing to have her.

“I should go, you're not safe if I stay.” He said with a scowl as he stood up.

“What!  No, you can't go!  You're not fully healed.” She almost yelled as she did her best to run towards him and grab his arm.

“It doesn't matter, as long as I'm here, you won't be safe.” he said, not bothering to turn around and look at her.

“I don't care who you work for! You're not leaving here until you're fully healed.  Besides, I'm sure they would have found you and captured you by now if they were still looking for you.” She said, stepping so she was now in front of him and giving him a small smile as she blocked his way to the backdoor in her kitchen.

He really did want to stay. He couldn't remember anyone ever having been this caring towards him. It made him feel almost human.

“Come on, at least stay until that wound on your leg closes up.  Then, once it's all better, you can leave if you want.  Besides, it's snowing outside.  How far do you think you're going to get, dressed like that.” She smirked, looking down at his sweatpants and bare feet.

He looked down, realizing she was right and sighed.

“You're right.”

“I know.  Now come on, sit back down at the table and I'll heat your dinner back up.” She said, grabbing his hand and turning him so he was now facing the kitchen.  He had almost forgot that she was hurt until he saw her limp to the table and grab the bowl she had made for him, then quickly looking away as it dawned on him that her backside was completely exposed, parts hidden because of her wings. He was fascinated by her wings, they were almost as long as she was tall and they reminded him of a Raven, the color a deep, glistening onyx. He wanted to touch them and see if they were as soft as they looked.

“Your foot.”  He said, remembering her limp and forcing himself to not focus on her wings, as he was still standing there, now staring at the floor.

“Hmm, oh yea.” she said as she looked down to see how she was favoring the injured one.

“Guess I forgot with all the excitement.  But, hey, at least it's stopped bleeding.” She joked as she walked to the microwave and put his bowl in.

“You should go take care of it.  I can heat my dinner.” Luke said as he walked to where she was standing, he wasn't quite sure how to address her shredded clothing, Trying not to get to close, as her wings were a little intimidating.

“No, it's fine.  What kind of host would I be, if I let you heat your own food?” she chuckled, then gasped and stood rigid as she felt a hand run across the edge her wing.

“They're beautiful.” Luke whispered, not able to contain his desire to touch them. Then, noticing her stiff reaction, he quickly removing his hand. “Sorry, I didn't mean to...”

“No, it's ok, it just surprised me, is all.  No one's ever touched them, let alone seen them. You can touch them, again, you know, if you'd want to.” She said, almost in a whisper, relieved he couldn't see the heat that was spreading across her face. She opened the microwave door and gave his food a few stirs, before placing it back in the microwave for another minute.

“How did you get them?” Luke asked, allowing his flesh hand to reach back up and run along the edge, then over her soft feathers, he couldn't help but stare as he did. He didn't see that she had placed her hands on the counter, supporting herself as she went weak in the knees. She appreciated how gentle his touch was. Wanting him to touch more, she let her wings expand as much as they could in the kitchen. Understanding what she was asking, he brought his metallic hand up and ran it along the arm of her other wing, she hung her head forward as she let out a low moan. The sensation wasn't sexual in nature at all, it felt more like when someone lightly massaged aching muscles.

“I guess I was just born with them.” her voice light and airy after letting a few minutes of silence pass, before answering him, allowing herself to enjoy the sensation of his touch. It was a completely new experience, hands gently caressing her wings, she had no idea they would be so sensitive.

“What do you mean?” he asked, reluctantly pulling his hands away and letting them fall back to his sides. It took a moment for her to realize that he had removed his hands. Once she did, she took a few deep breaths, clearing her throat as she focused her attention back on heating up his food.

“I'm what they call a mutant.  Mutant abilities don't usually manifest themselves until puberty.  So, I didn't know until I was about fourteen.  Um, can we talk about something else?  I'm not very comfortable talking about them.  Like I said, you're kind of the only person who's ever seen them.” she couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the pseudo-affectionate moment they had just shared

The microwave beeped, signaling it's job was done.  ___ took out the bowl and stirred it a few more times, then turned to hand the bowl to Luke.

“It should be hot enough, if not, just pop it back in the microwave for another minute or so.  I have to go take care of my foot.” she said, avoiding making eye contact with him, her voice still very quiet.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry.” He said, taking the bowl from her.

“It's ok.  Like I said, I've just never talked to anyone about it.” she turned to leave, but then stopped and added, “If you'd like something to drink, there's cups in the cupboard next to the fridge.  I'll be back in a minute.” Then she limped out the door and headed to what he assumed was the bathroom.  He watched her go, realizing her shirt had been shredded by the exposure of her wings.  He also noticed the scars on her back, he assumed those were from when she drew out her wings and he couldn't help but wonder if the process was painful or not.  Coming out of his thoughts, he stirred the contents of the bowl a few times, then set it down on the table before getting a cup and filling it with water.  He felt bad for asking about such a sensitive subject, but he couldn't help himself.

  Luke was washing his bowl and cup when she came back into the room.  He noticed that her wings were gone, her mood seemed to be brighter and she was fully dressed.

“How was it?” she asked, sitting at the table across from where he had been, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Good, thank you.” he answered as he walked back to the table and sat down.

“I'm sorry about earlier.” She said, looking down at her hands that she played with nervously.

“It's ok, I'm the one that should be apologizing.” he said, watching her fidget.

“Let's just say we're both sorry and leave it at that.” She replied with a nervous smile, hoping he would drop the issue and they could talk about something else.

She was relieved when he nodded in agreement and let out a heavy sigh.

“So, where are you from?” She asked, trying her best at making small talk.

“I don't remember.” he replied, looking to the side.

“Then how do you remember who you work for?”

He let out a heavy sigh, deciding to take the chance and trust her.  If she really was a HYDRA agent, the worst that would happen is he would be beaten and wiped before being put back in the cryo-freeze.

“Before you found me.  The people I work for, after my missions are complete, freeze me until I'm needed for another mission.  I have no idea who I was before or how old I am.  They have a way of erasing my memories after every mission before I'm put back to sleep.”

___ listened in horror as he told her of the things he's remembered doing and the people he works for.  She listened as he told her about the events that led up to her finding him.  Once he was done talking he looked up to see her hand covering her mouth and tears falling down  her chubby cheeks.

He was surprised by her reaction.  The sorrow that was written across her face was not the look he was expecting to see when he looked at her.  He expected to see disgust and disdain, not sorrow and sympathy.

“Oh Luke, that's absolutely horrible! No wonder you ran away.” She said, reaching her hand across the table and resting it on top of his flesh hand.

“I want you to know, you are welcome to stay here as long as you want.  I will keep you as safe as I can, for as long as I can.” She gave him a gentle smile as she looked up at him.

“Thank you, but like I said before, they'll be looking for me, if they aren't already.  If they find me here with you and they find out about your wings, they will take you.”

“Why don't you let me worry about that.  Like I said, you can stay here as long as you want.  I mean, I could use some help with some of the outside chores.” Her smile got a little bigger as she sat back in her chair.  He couldn't help but give her a small smile back.  The chance to do some normal tasks was very appealing and he couldn't help but smile at the thought of feeling somewhat like a normal human being.

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader #mutant reader