Wolffe frowned as he listened to the
mission briefing. The 104th would be working with the 501st and,
while Wolffe generally didn’t mind working with them, this would be
the first time working with them since he adopted Pup. He hated to
admit it, but he was nervous about taking Pup to their ship. The
Wolfpack’s ship was safe, familiar territory for Pup. The 501st’s?
It definitely wasn’t. It wasn’t familiar territory and it
certainly wasn’t child-safe.
“Commander Wolffe, I assure you,
this is temporary.” General Plo spoke as they walked out of the
“I know, sir.” He replied.
“Pup will be safe. I will alert
General Skywalker about him when we arrive.” The general informed
him. “For now, prepare to board them and have Pup ready.” Wolffe
“Yes’sir.” His shoulder was
squeezed gently, before they parted ways; the general to his
quarters, and Wolffe to the barracks where Pup was napping. He
entered quietly, finding some of his brothers in there, working
quietly to clean their weapons or armor. He nodded to them in passing
as he headed for his bunk.
Pup was curled up, one of his thumbs
in his mouth and the other hand clutching the blanket General Plo had
acquired for him. Wolffe smiled at the youngling, before sitting on
the edge of the bunk. He hated to wake him, but he needed to get
“Pup, sweetheart.” He spoke
gently, calmly, and ran his hands through the boy’s hair. A whimper
came from the child, and he patted the back of the boy’s head
gently. “Pup, it’s time to wake up, sweetheart.”
“Nnngh…” Pup whined, but opened
his eyes. The boy looked up at Wolffe, and the commander could tell
the little one was going to be cranky for the rest of the day.
“Come on, we have to get ready to
go.” Pup was suddenly awake for that, sitting up and staring at him
with wide eyes.
“Go where?” Wolffe couldn’t stop
his smile from turning into a grin.
“We’re going to another battalion
for a while.” He explained, “It’ll be new territory, and you’ll
be meeting a lot of new people.” The boy’s eyes managed to get
even wider, awed at the thought.
“But I’ll stay wi’ you?” Pup
asked, immediately crawling into Wolffe’s lap. The commander smiled
“You’ll stay with me, yes.” He
promised, “But we have to get ready, okay?” Pup smiled and
“‘kay, Daddy!” Wolffe pressed
their heads together, before pulling back to press a kiss to the
He was still worried about the
mission, about taking his son from the new home they built on this
ship, but for now, Pup’s smile was far too contagious for him to
Chapters: [ ONE ] [TWO ] [ THREE ] [ FOUR ] [ FIVE ] [U R HERE] [ AO3 LINK ] Characters: Sans, Grillby, Papyrus, Royal Doggies Setting: Baby Blaster AU Contains: SAD CHILDREN. Mentions of child abuse. Synopsis: The dogs interview the kids and more of their dark past and a hero is revealed. The children seem to be doing alright for a change. Bubble Baths are had. Thanks to @qcatter for letting me use their oc!
My mom and I took Eevee and Dash to the pup crawl a few days ago. It was pretty fun! We got drinks and the dogs got plenty of walking. Eevee also got to meet many other dogs while we were there. I’m planning on taking her to the dog park this Friday for the first time, so hopefully that will go over just as well.
That baby in Skyhokf prompt is great! Can I piggyback off that and make it "the-baby-is-now-a-wobbly-running-happily-babbling-toddler-with-cute-curls in Skyhold"?
this post. Last one! To keep things gender- and parent-neutral, I’ll
be using ‘Pup’ for the toddler.]
Late mornings often find Pup in the training courtyard, practice
sword in hand. Cullen always manages to make time for
‘drills,’ ordering Pup into rank and file alongside the Inquisition’s
soldiers. Even when it comes time for sparring, Pup often leaps into
the ring, fearlessly staring down the leader of one of the largest
forces in Thedas. Cullen only smiles and picks up a practice sword of
his own, usually deflecting a few wild swings before allowing himself
to be tackled and rolled in the dirt. More often than not, practice
ends with him carrying an exhausted Pup back to their room over his
shoulder like a sack of flour, a broad smile on his face the whole
Though the age for lullabies has largely passed, Leliana is
still something of a comfort blanket for Pup. On dark nights, during
thunderstorms, or when the wind howls particularly cruelly through
the Keep, she feels them tug at her sleeve. She keeps her reports out
of sight – though Pup cannot yet read, there are some realities she
wishes to keep from them a while longer – and brings them to play
with the ravens or leftover candle wax. Many in the Keep are amazed
by Pup’s seeking her out, the person responsible for so much death
and deceit; but then again, where could be safer than at her side?
Josephine is in charge of scheduling, to no one’s surprise.
She arranges for tutors (modern languages, classical literature,
history, and politics to start) and manages the introductions with
influential children. Parties are attended on a strict algorithm of
priority, and where Pup is at any given time is entirely dependent on
the host child’s rank, social status, and sphere of influence. Every
so often, she has to be reminded to let up on the reins a little and
let Pup be a normal child – for the closest definition of 'normal’
possible, considering. On those afternoons, books are abandoned for
toys, and she settles down in front of the fire, Pup tumbling around
in her skirts.
Cassandra has had a few years to work on her skills with
children, though no matter what she tries, Pup responds best to her
earnest nature and genuine affection above all else. Much to her
dismay, the toddler seems to show no interest in the romance serials
she so prizes, instead preferring to hear about dragon hunts, scary
haunted ruins, and what it was like to stare down 'Coryfidus.’
(Sera’s influence, no doubt.) She’s started eavesdropping on Varric’s
anecdotes to pick up tips for embellishment and storytelling, and
though she lacks his finesse, the way she quickly takes her stories
from zero to a hundred is perfect for tiny, impatient ears.
In the barn, Blackwall shows the little tyke how to work with
wood to make a rough practice sword. Making one’s own weapon is a
great skill, an important art, and one the few values he possesses
that he trusts enough to want to pass on. The first time Pup nicks
themselves with a whittling knife, Blackwall is more upset by it than
they are, rushing back and forth and swearing into his beard as he
tears strips of cloth to wrap around a tiny cut no wider than the
head of a nail. Pup waits calmly with an outstretched hand, ignoring
the pooling blood and giggling madly at the older man’s fit. Cheeky,
Blackwall notes as he patches them up. He’d have to keep a better eye
on them, for more than one reason.
- Bull is
rough-and-tumble as always, but always with the gentlest touch and
practiced restraint. He never pushes, only leads, and the kid needs
little encouragement. Bull finds himself pleased with the initiative
they show, fearless in their curiosity and blissfully traveling the
years where shame isn’t a concept they can even begin to understand.
He keeps a keen eye out for the kid’s developing talents, as their
interests tend to change day to day. Little tornado seems to have an
affinity for fighting, which is good, but not a whole lot of impulse
control, which is… less so. Still, there’s something in that exact
combination that reminds him a hell of a lot of himself, so he sits
back and lets the kid find their own way – with a little guiding
hand every once in a while to keep them from charging off the
ramparts or something.
Every day they spend with Dorian, more buckles mysteriously
end up on Pup’s clothes. They are almost never in useful places, and
often secure nothing at all other than Dorian’s own sense of taste.
Two straps across each shoulder, a third hanging down to clip to the
front of their tunic. One across the chest (for safety, Dorian
claims) and one below each knee. A buckle headband. When the
launderers complain about the unnecessary clips of metal, Dorian
simply switches to different types of accoutrements: one month it’s
scarves, another it’s child-size cufflinks. Pup is a willing model
for every fashion whim, having intuited quite early on that there was
no better way of getting attention than being adorable. Dorian cannot
Sera recruits the kid into more and more complex pranks the
better their motor skills get. The best ones were the first, when she
still had Pup’s innocent face to her advantage. The cooks and maids
know better now, and they have to get more creative. Now it’s a
matter of not being seen, and all it takes to bribe Pup to
crawl into a cupboard and steal some contraband is a cookie and a
solid high-five. Little shit’s a fast learner, she’ll say that much –
and she’s never prouder of the monster she’s created than the day Pup
turns the tables on her and smears jam between every empty page of
her journal. Has to swear a whole fucking lot to keep from
misting up as she wipes her hands on a nearby cushion.
Vivienne learns to tolerate muddy handprints on her
silver-and-white robes, the dusty smudges an undeniable sign of
affection that cannot be explained away by The Game, nor written off
as unremarkable. Vivienne has watched those she loves age and leave
her behind, and knows well that youth is a fleeting treasure that
will be spoiled all too quickly. She has a rather large, ornate tome
that she keeps on her shelf, the leather bindings housing every
scribble, every finger painting, every wildflower bouquet presented
to her as a gift. It is quite private, as is the rest of her heart –
but sometimes she will take it down and peruse it with Pup, praising
- In their dreams and slumbering walks
through the Fade, the Pup often encounters Solas, who always
seems to be waiting for them, hands folded behind his back. Pup is
very intuitive, and quickly learns that the bad days – the sad,
tired ones - are marked by his wearing gold armor, and on his good
days, he’s in his old tunic and leggings. Pup’s memories of him are
hazy, but warm, and so runs to greet him without reservation. Solas
sits with them, patiently listening to the child’s rambling stories
with his full attention and keen interest. He never interrupts, but
asks prompting questions, smiling at the eagerness with which Pup
wants to share every detail of their young life. Pup sometimes asks
when he will come home, and the look on Solas’ face is hard to
understand. Pup won’t stop asking, though – if he comes home, there
won’t be days when he wears that armor anymore. No more sad days, not
if they’re together.
- Cole takes it upon himself to
introduce Pup to other spirits. He wants them to understand each
other, to see. Flesh and blood and innocence meeting wisdom
and philosophy and magic – everything could change. Everything will
change, everything has to. He watches, waits. They don’t know how to
interact, at first, but he helps. He always helps, makes rough things
smooth. They speak, tiny hands and fingers gesturing and grasping at
floating light where hands should be. Then they are hands, and
those hands are talking back, learning. They are all learning,
giving, taking. This is how it always was, how it should be. He is
happy when they are happy, and when Pup introduces Cole to their new
friends, he is both compassion and hope.
Everyone knows exactly who to blame when the kid starts saying things
like 'Andraste’s ass’ and 'no shit!’ Varric denies any blame
at first, showing them copies of the Josephine-sanctioned book of
fairy tales, which clearly held no such expletives. Printed word
would have been evidence enough for anyone who didn’t know
him, and sure enough, the next time he pulls the kid up fireside to
hear the story of the Blackwood Brigand for the hundredth time, all
ears in the place are trained on him. He reads from the book, as he
promised, but what comes out are things like 'and then that jackass
of a count’ and 'wouldn’t piss on him to save him from burning.’ The
reprimand he gets is nothing, however, compared to the satisfaction
from hearing a three-year-old tell a Chantry sister to 'kiss my
ass.’ Damn, he thinks to himself with a smirk. No regrets.