pup crawl

Second Installment of ‘Wolffe Adopts a Pup’. I told you guys there would be more.

First Installment


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 communications room.

“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 nodded.

“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 ready.

“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 gently.

“You’ll stay with me, yes.” He promised, “But we have to get ready, okay?” Pup smiled and nodded.

“‘kay, Daddy!” Wolffe pressed their heads together, before pulling back to press a kiss to the boy’s forehead.

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 care.

TRUST CH 6

An Undertale Fanfiction

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!

PART SIX OF SIXTEEN+

Keep reading

helen0rz  asked:

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"?

[from 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 way.

- 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 agree enough.

- 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 their improvement.

- 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.

Nugget was the funnest little bar pup! He crawled all over me to reach the most interesting smells! I let him do that for awhile before…well you can probably guess what happened to him!