kairuf
(Verified Kaiger) (Not the Siberian)
- Location
- The land of Potatoes
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Constellations (Worm/Okami)
- Thread starter UnwelcomeStorm
- Start date
Rajvik_wolfboy
Wolf amongst the stars.
- Location
- Florida
This is an extremely scary idea.....I LOVE IT
- Location
- Saof Afreekah
I hve so much joy in my heart for this fic. So much joy
Chapter 15
UnwelcomeStorm
BARK! BARK! BARK!
- Location
- United States
15
It really was a long week.
Armsmaster started it as he did every week, at exactly 12:01 AM, still in his lab, absorbed with his various tinkertech endeavors. Dragon had her avatar displayed on a nearby screen, the Canadian tinker as unconcerned with regular sleep schedules as her friend, and in between bouts of using a host of micro-sized tools to create, tweak, and expand fields of nanocircuitry, they carried on a quiet conversation.
In an hour, Armsmaster would bid Dragon good-night, then retire to the cot folded into a wall panel and sleep for three hours. Then the schedule dictated a workout, followed by shower, breakfast while reviewing his email or a recent tinker-published article (it was always the latter, if he could get it). Then the rest of the day would proceed, interspersed by three to five twenty-minute naps. Polyphasic sleep cycles were a perfectly acceptable means of maintaining health, without losing nearly as much time to idleness. It was also far more adaptable in case of crisis; sometimes Dauntless would return to the Rig after a hard night at his civilian job with the city's fire departments, because not every fire in Brockton was set by Lung, and the younger hero would yawn the rest of the day. A little bit of schadenfreude was also perfectly acceptable.
It wasn't an easy schedule that Armsmaster had given himself, certainly. But it was something he was content with.
It was quite unfortunately disrupted one morning, when he had to look over the photographs collected from the shrine instead of catching up on company emails or new research. Armsmaster strode through the Protectorate cafeteria, idly tapping at the tablet he'd downloaded the cameras' memory onto. He passed by Triumph and Battery sitting at one of the tables; Triumph waved. He collected a selection of easily-transportable foodstuffs to take back to his lab, then resumed flipping through the saved photographs, a frown starting on his face. The cameras weren't supposed to be quite this sensitive, he'd have to check them later to rule out the possibility of a surveillance-immune parahuman. The photos were uniformly innocuous: old lady, several old ladies, falling leaf, tree branch, bird, more old ladies, teenager, another bird, a woman accompanied by children, more leaves— DOG.
Armsmaster stopped, right in the middle of the cafeteria, and hissed at his discovery. It was that canine, the same one, he was sure of it. It matched the feed from his helmet display— all white, no signs of albinism, physical structure of the head ruling out most domestic species. The wolf was staring into one of the cameras, eyes nearly crossed to focus on the close lens. The photo after that—every photo after that—was smeared to illegibility by a prominent nose print.
"Dog," he hissed again, fingers tightening on the tablet. He heard a chair squeak against the linoleum, just before Triumph moved closer to peer over the tinker's shoulder.
"Is that the same one? Looks cute."
"It is not cute. It is most likely a master projection and it is very dangerous."
"Sir, I know you're upset about what happened, but I think it's a bit of a leap to assume it's a parahuman effect."
Armsmaster turned his head to glower at Triumph. "That camera is at the top of a telephone pole." And now also compromised. He'd have to grab Chessman and go remove the devices.
Triumph paused. "...oh."
"Indeed. Investigation is now ongoing." The tinker stalked away. Triumph raked a hand through his hair, then sat back down opposite Battery. The heroine chewed on a piece of toast, watching Armsmaster leave.
"I know a probable new Master in town is a big deal, but I'm kind of having trouble moving past the fact that Armsmaster has a canine nemesis."
Triumph's lips twitched. "Maybe Armsmaster's the nemesis. We'll turn around one day and he'll be ruling Latveria."
* * *
Sunshine had decided to go shopping, and thus Taylor was inevitably pressed into service as courier. Lord's Market was an interesting change of pace, at least, and Taylor was happy enough to ride down the street, Sunny trotting alongside her. They browsed, picking up a few needs and looking at wants. Some more fine paper for calligraphy, a small knife to carefully sharpen her charcoals with, some comfy-looking mats that Sunny licked, thereby claiming as her own. Lots of birdseed, but no feeders— Taylor gave the canine a Look, but the resulting Puppy Stare was far too powerful. Another red skirt, also claimed by Rite of Lick, and while Taylor relented she warned the wolf to stop pushing her luck. Sunny lowered her ears, chastised— and then immediately perked back up and barked, running over to a food vendor. Taylor sighed.
Sunny snuffled excitedly at the ice cream cart, and dodged the owners attempts at shooing her away until Taylor caught up. The girl was honestly a little surprised to find the vendor here. They usually vanished as autumn settled in, and Brockton's brief summer faded, but the year had been unseasonably warm and bright so far. Flowers were still blooming in the roadside pots, and Old Mrs. Henrick was still plodding happily through her garden every morning. Maybe it wasn't so unreasonable for cold-treat carts to still be around. Taylor checked her wallet, hummed, then nodded.
"Yeah, okay. Two vanilla cones, please? Sunny, find us a place to sit maybe?" The wolf snapped to attention, barked once, then dashed off to claim a bench. Taylor ignored the vendor's expression and paid for the cones, then carefully wheeled her purchase-laden bike after the canine.
She reached the bench and, with some finagling, propped the bike against the back of the seat and sat down. Sunny vacated the rest of the bench and sat down beside her. She was about to hand one of the cones over—or lower it within tongue range, at least—when a noise started up close by. Sunny's ears perked, and she turned her head. A woman was pushing a stroller down the sidewalk, and the baby had started to cry. The mother shushed and cooed at the infant, to no avail— the poor woman looked harried, like she was about to cry. Taylor bit on her lip, then called out.
"Hey— come sit down!"
The woman looked up, startled, then after a moment of hesitation, she wheeled the stroller over and sank onto the bench. She was shorter than Taylor, with unremarkable brown hair, but her nails were well-kept and the stroller looked new. "Ah— thank you. Sorry, it's been a long day, and— and she's being so fussy, I don't—"
"Hey, no worries... wow, she's tiny. How old is she?"
"Just a couple months. Her name's Aster," the woman smiled, and it lifted some of the strain from her features. "Like the flower." She seemed about to say more, but a sudden giggle drew both their attentions. Sunny was crouched in front of the stroller, and every few moments she'd pop her head up to look at the baby, then crouch down again, out of sight. Aster, for her part, was fascinated. Sunny popped up again, and the baby blew a spit bubble at her. Sunny chuffed.
"Is... your dog playing peek-a-boo?"
Taylor considered the question. "She is a very smart dog."
"I... guess so." The woman pushed back a lock of hair, and watched Aster stare at Sunny. Taylor watched as well, for a moment, then eyed the woman, and the stress lines around her brow and mouth. She held out the second cone, which was starting to drip a little. "Wh— goodness, aren't you waiting for someone?"
Taylor shook her head. "Nah, it's just me and Sunny. Go ahead."
The young mother hesitated, then took the icecream with a sigh and a slight smile. "Well, thank you. I'm Kayden."
Taylor and Kayden exchanged numbers, after a pleasant time sitting in the sunlight and chatting. Aster had a bottle and then a nap, with Sunny resting her head on the stroller's rim and watching the baby with clear adoration. The wolf's attitude enamored her to Kayden, who even Taylor could see was completely devoted to her newborn. Then as soon as the baby was asleep, Sunny turned her big pleading eyes on Taylor, who dutifully surrendered the second half of the icecream cone. Kayden had laughed until she had to wipe away a tear.
* * *
A few days later, Sunny started making meaningful looks at the corner of the garage where Taylor stashed her paint cans. Taylor shook her head. Sunny whined. Taylor put her foot down, and cited homework. Sunny wuffed, then laid down on Taylor's bed and put her muzzle on her paws. Taylor savored her victory, and pulled out her World Studies assignment.
Twenty minutes later, Taylor was loading the half-empty cans onto her bike. Homework sucked.
Thirty minutes after that, Taylor rode down a street, Sunny dashing ahead and then circling back, while Taylor looked for bare patches of buildings to vandalize. She was beginning to think she'd made a mistake—not so much the vandalism, because that ship had sailed when she ran from the Protectorate, so she may as well just keep going—but in choices of neighborhoods to visit. This area of Brockton was pretty clearly upper-class, a suburb protected from all the miscreants and general humanity that couldn't afford to live in gated communities. Taylor was accepting the fact she'd have to move on and look elsewhere when Sunny started barking, and the girl pedaled a bit harder to catch up.
Sunny had not found a good place to start painting. She'd found a box, a sturdy cardboard thing with high sides, and a sound coming from inside that gripped at Taylor's heartstrings and plucked at them insistently. On the side of the box, scrawled in marker, were the words 'Free Kittens.'
"Oh man..." Taylor parked her bike, and peered down into the box. Inside were three-- no, four-- kittens, all different colors and clambering over each other in a mix of excitement and desperation. The fluffballs looked old enough to be weaned, probably, but they were so tiny! With big eyes and poofy little tails and little jellybean toes. They squeaked and cried, pawing at the sides of the box. Sunny whined and looked up at Taylor.
"Yeah, we're not leaving them here. I hope they haven't been out here long... there's a supermarket not far, let's grab them something to eat and then figure out what to do with them." Sunny's tail wagged. Taylor balanced the box on the rear rack of her bike, and started walking. "Jeeze, Sunny... I don't think we can take them home with us, I'm pretty sure Dad is allergic." Whiiiine. "Look, we'll think of something, okay? One step at a time."
They reached the supermarket—which didn't have bikes racks, Taylor was annoyed to notice—and a clerk pushing chains of shopping carts stopped to investigate the mewls coming from Taylor's cargo. It was good fortune for both of them that the clerk liked cats. She took some of Taylor's money, went inside, then came back out with some pouches of wet cat food and a three-pack of dishrags, which they worked together to open and array inside the box for the kittens. The clerk's shift ended in 10 minutes— and she had room for a pet in her life.
Just after 6 pm, they parted ways— the clerk with one of the kittens and a bright smile on her face, and Taylor with three more refugees, and a plan.
Sunny led the way back to the gated district. It was a high-class neighborhood, all big houses and little car traffic, and fenced yards— the perfect sort of place for people with pets, and the means to care for them. Taylor started knocking on doors.
An hour later, the second and third kitten had both found homes, and the fourth and last was sitting huddled in the corner of the box, looking even smaller and alone without its siblings. Taylor eyed the darkening sky, but continued walking her bike along the sidewalk. Sunny walked in front, and the canine turned at the mailbox of the last house on the row. Taylor gave it a cursory glance as she followed on her way to the door— the mailbox had fancy lettering that spelled out 'Dallon.'
Taylor knocked, waited, then knocked again. The door of the house opened and Taylor managed to resist the urge to take a step back. The woman who answered the door was blonde, with stern but handsome features and a three-piece suit. She narrowed her eyes at Taylor and the scuffed box in her hands. "Yes?"
"Uh, hi. Sorry to bother you, but— I found these kittens, and they need homes. Do you think you could care for a pet?" She held the box out a bit more, then added, "There's just the one left."
"Look, I'm really not..." The woman trailed off, her eyes on the box. The last kitten, curled very small in the corner of the box, looked up. It gave a small, pleading cry. The woman—presumably, Mrs. Dallon—stared, transfixed.
"I..." She started, then swallowed. Her hands reached for the box, and she lifted out the kitten with shaking fingers. The kitten mewed, then licked at her polished nails. "...sure. I'll take it."
Taylor beamed. "Thank you! Please take good care of it." Mrs Dallon nodded, and almost automatically cupped the vulnerable creature a little more securely. Taylor waved, then wheeled her bike back out of the Dallon's lawn, and started off down the street. Sunny ran alongside her, tongue lolling in a happy grin.
"I hope they're happy, Sunny. Wanna still go find someplace to paint?" Bark!
It really was a long week.
Armsmaster started it as he did every week, at exactly 12:01 AM, still in his lab, absorbed with his various tinkertech endeavors. Dragon had her avatar displayed on a nearby screen, the Canadian tinker as unconcerned with regular sleep schedules as her friend, and in between bouts of using a host of micro-sized tools to create, tweak, and expand fields of nanocircuitry, they carried on a quiet conversation.
In an hour, Armsmaster would bid Dragon good-night, then retire to the cot folded into a wall panel and sleep for three hours. Then the schedule dictated a workout, followed by shower, breakfast while reviewing his email or a recent tinker-published article (it was always the latter, if he could get it). Then the rest of the day would proceed, interspersed by three to five twenty-minute naps. Polyphasic sleep cycles were a perfectly acceptable means of maintaining health, without losing nearly as much time to idleness. It was also far more adaptable in case of crisis; sometimes Dauntless would return to the Rig after a hard night at his civilian job with the city's fire departments, because not every fire in Brockton was set by Lung, and the younger hero would yawn the rest of the day. A little bit of schadenfreude was also perfectly acceptable.
It wasn't an easy schedule that Armsmaster had given himself, certainly. But it was something he was content with.
It was quite unfortunately disrupted one morning, when he had to look over the photographs collected from the shrine instead of catching up on company emails or new research. Armsmaster strode through the Protectorate cafeteria, idly tapping at the tablet he'd downloaded the cameras' memory onto. He passed by Triumph and Battery sitting at one of the tables; Triumph waved. He collected a selection of easily-transportable foodstuffs to take back to his lab, then resumed flipping through the saved photographs, a frown starting on his face. The cameras weren't supposed to be quite this sensitive, he'd have to check them later to rule out the possibility of a surveillance-immune parahuman. The photos were uniformly innocuous: old lady, several old ladies, falling leaf, tree branch, bird, more old ladies, teenager, another bird, a woman accompanied by children, more leaves— DOG.
Armsmaster stopped, right in the middle of the cafeteria, and hissed at his discovery. It was that canine, the same one, he was sure of it. It matched the feed from his helmet display— all white, no signs of albinism, physical structure of the head ruling out most domestic species. The wolf was staring into one of the cameras, eyes nearly crossed to focus on the close lens. The photo after that—every photo after that—was smeared to illegibility by a prominent nose print.
"Dog," he hissed again, fingers tightening on the tablet. He heard a chair squeak against the linoleum, just before Triumph moved closer to peer over the tinker's shoulder.
"Is that the same one? Looks cute."
"It is not cute. It is most likely a master projection and it is very dangerous."
"Sir, I know you're upset about what happened, but I think it's a bit of a leap to assume it's a parahuman effect."
Armsmaster turned his head to glower at Triumph. "That camera is at the top of a telephone pole." And now also compromised. He'd have to grab Chessman and go remove the devices.
Triumph paused. "...oh."
"Indeed. Investigation is now ongoing." The tinker stalked away. Triumph raked a hand through his hair, then sat back down opposite Battery. The heroine chewed on a piece of toast, watching Armsmaster leave.
"I know a probable new Master in town is a big deal, but I'm kind of having trouble moving past the fact that Armsmaster has a canine nemesis."
Triumph's lips twitched. "Maybe Armsmaster's the nemesis. We'll turn around one day and he'll be ruling Latveria."
* * *
Sunshine had decided to go shopping, and thus Taylor was inevitably pressed into service as courier. Lord's Market was an interesting change of pace, at least, and Taylor was happy enough to ride down the street, Sunny trotting alongside her. They browsed, picking up a few needs and looking at wants. Some more fine paper for calligraphy, a small knife to carefully sharpen her charcoals with, some comfy-looking mats that Sunny licked, thereby claiming as her own. Lots of birdseed, but no feeders— Taylor gave the canine a Look, but the resulting Puppy Stare was far too powerful. Another red skirt, also claimed by Rite of Lick, and while Taylor relented she warned the wolf to stop pushing her luck. Sunny lowered her ears, chastised— and then immediately perked back up and barked, running over to a food vendor. Taylor sighed.
Sunny snuffled excitedly at the ice cream cart, and dodged the owners attempts at shooing her away until Taylor caught up. The girl was honestly a little surprised to find the vendor here. They usually vanished as autumn settled in, and Brockton's brief summer faded, but the year had been unseasonably warm and bright so far. Flowers were still blooming in the roadside pots, and Old Mrs. Henrick was still plodding happily through her garden every morning. Maybe it wasn't so unreasonable for cold-treat carts to still be around. Taylor checked her wallet, hummed, then nodded.
"Yeah, okay. Two vanilla cones, please? Sunny, find us a place to sit maybe?" The wolf snapped to attention, barked once, then dashed off to claim a bench. Taylor ignored the vendor's expression and paid for the cones, then carefully wheeled her purchase-laden bike after the canine.
She reached the bench and, with some finagling, propped the bike against the back of the seat and sat down. Sunny vacated the rest of the bench and sat down beside her. She was about to hand one of the cones over—or lower it within tongue range, at least—when a noise started up close by. Sunny's ears perked, and she turned her head. A woman was pushing a stroller down the sidewalk, and the baby had started to cry. The mother shushed and cooed at the infant, to no avail— the poor woman looked harried, like she was about to cry. Taylor bit on her lip, then called out.
"Hey— come sit down!"
The woman looked up, startled, then after a moment of hesitation, she wheeled the stroller over and sank onto the bench. She was shorter than Taylor, with unremarkable brown hair, but her nails were well-kept and the stroller looked new. "Ah— thank you. Sorry, it's been a long day, and— and she's being so fussy, I don't—"
"Hey, no worries... wow, she's tiny. How old is she?"
"Just a couple months. Her name's Aster," the woman smiled, and it lifted some of the strain from her features. "Like the flower." She seemed about to say more, but a sudden giggle drew both their attentions. Sunny was crouched in front of the stroller, and every few moments she'd pop her head up to look at the baby, then crouch down again, out of sight. Aster, for her part, was fascinated. Sunny popped up again, and the baby blew a spit bubble at her. Sunny chuffed.
"Is... your dog playing peek-a-boo?"
Taylor considered the question. "She is a very smart dog."
"I... guess so." The woman pushed back a lock of hair, and watched Aster stare at Sunny. Taylor watched as well, for a moment, then eyed the woman, and the stress lines around her brow and mouth. She held out the second cone, which was starting to drip a little. "Wh— goodness, aren't you waiting for someone?"
Taylor shook her head. "Nah, it's just me and Sunny. Go ahead."
The young mother hesitated, then took the icecream with a sigh and a slight smile. "Well, thank you. I'm Kayden."
Taylor and Kayden exchanged numbers, after a pleasant time sitting in the sunlight and chatting. Aster had a bottle and then a nap, with Sunny resting her head on the stroller's rim and watching the baby with clear adoration. The wolf's attitude enamored her to Kayden, who even Taylor could see was completely devoted to her newborn. Then as soon as the baby was asleep, Sunny turned her big pleading eyes on Taylor, who dutifully surrendered the second half of the icecream cone. Kayden had laughed until she had to wipe away a tear.
* * *
A few days later, Sunny started making meaningful looks at the corner of the garage where Taylor stashed her paint cans. Taylor shook her head. Sunny whined. Taylor put her foot down, and cited homework. Sunny wuffed, then laid down on Taylor's bed and put her muzzle on her paws. Taylor savored her victory, and pulled out her World Studies assignment.
Twenty minutes later, Taylor was loading the half-empty cans onto her bike. Homework sucked.
Thirty minutes after that, Taylor rode down a street, Sunny dashing ahead and then circling back, while Taylor looked for bare patches of buildings to vandalize. She was beginning to think she'd made a mistake—not so much the vandalism, because that ship had sailed when she ran from the Protectorate, so she may as well just keep going—but in choices of neighborhoods to visit. This area of Brockton was pretty clearly upper-class, a suburb protected from all the miscreants and general humanity that couldn't afford to live in gated communities. Taylor was accepting the fact she'd have to move on and look elsewhere when Sunny started barking, and the girl pedaled a bit harder to catch up.
Sunny had not found a good place to start painting. She'd found a box, a sturdy cardboard thing with high sides, and a sound coming from inside that gripped at Taylor's heartstrings and plucked at them insistently. On the side of the box, scrawled in marker, were the words 'Free Kittens.'
"Oh man..." Taylor parked her bike, and peered down into the box. Inside were three-- no, four-- kittens, all different colors and clambering over each other in a mix of excitement and desperation. The fluffballs looked old enough to be weaned, probably, but they were so tiny! With big eyes and poofy little tails and little jellybean toes. They squeaked and cried, pawing at the sides of the box. Sunny whined and looked up at Taylor.
"Yeah, we're not leaving them here. I hope they haven't been out here long... there's a supermarket not far, let's grab them something to eat and then figure out what to do with them." Sunny's tail wagged. Taylor balanced the box on the rear rack of her bike, and started walking. "Jeeze, Sunny... I don't think we can take them home with us, I'm pretty sure Dad is allergic." Whiiiine. "Look, we'll think of something, okay? One step at a time."
They reached the supermarket—which didn't have bikes racks, Taylor was annoyed to notice—and a clerk pushing chains of shopping carts stopped to investigate the mewls coming from Taylor's cargo. It was good fortune for both of them that the clerk liked cats. She took some of Taylor's money, went inside, then came back out with some pouches of wet cat food and a three-pack of dishrags, which they worked together to open and array inside the box for the kittens. The clerk's shift ended in 10 minutes— and she had room for a pet in her life.
Just after 6 pm, they parted ways— the clerk with one of the kittens and a bright smile on her face, and Taylor with three more refugees, and a plan.
Sunny led the way back to the gated district. It was a high-class neighborhood, all big houses and little car traffic, and fenced yards— the perfect sort of place for people with pets, and the means to care for them. Taylor started knocking on doors.
An hour later, the second and third kitten had both found homes, and the fourth and last was sitting huddled in the corner of the box, looking even smaller and alone without its siblings. Taylor eyed the darkening sky, but continued walking her bike along the sidewalk. Sunny walked in front, and the canine turned at the mailbox of the last house on the row. Taylor gave it a cursory glance as she followed on her way to the door— the mailbox had fancy lettering that spelled out 'Dallon.'
Taylor knocked, waited, then knocked again. The door of the house opened and Taylor managed to resist the urge to take a step back. The woman who answered the door was blonde, with stern but handsome features and a three-piece suit. She narrowed her eyes at Taylor and the scuffed box in her hands. "Yes?"
"Uh, hi. Sorry to bother you, but— I found these kittens, and they need homes. Do you think you could care for a pet?" She held the box out a bit more, then added, "There's just the one left."
"Look, I'm really not..." The woman trailed off, her eyes on the box. The last kitten, curled very small in the corner of the box, looked up. It gave a small, pleading cry. The woman—presumably, Mrs. Dallon—stared, transfixed.
"I..." She started, then swallowed. Her hands reached for the box, and she lifted out the kitten with shaking fingers. The kitten mewed, then licked at her polished nails. "...sure. I'll take it."
Taylor beamed. "Thank you! Please take good care of it." Mrs Dallon nodded, and almost automatically cupped the vulnerable creature a little more securely. Taylor waved, then wheeled her bike back out of the Dallon's lawn, and started off down the street. Sunny ran alongside her, tongue lolling in a happy grin.
"I hope they're happy, Sunny. Wanna still go find someplace to paint?" Bark!
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I don't do this often, but... Hnng. Kittens are so adorable.
Vox De Harlequin
Consequences are for other people
- Location
- Hyalean Theoric World
Firstly, Sunny knows what's up. I dare anyone to try to take what I have claimed through the divine rite of lickety lick.
Secondly, cue master/stranger panic.
Thirdly, Yay saving the world with the power of kittens!
Secondly, cue master/stranger panic.
Thirdly, Yay saving the world with the power of kittens!
Stratagemini
Totally a Fire Ferret.
- Location
- Central Park
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They/Them
Awww... Brandish gets a kitty.
- Location
- Earth
Dragon: Colin, please stop using the word "Doom" when engaging villains.
Armsmaster: I understand that it sends the wrong message, but somehow it feels so appropriate after I got this green cape.
Does that make Dragon Susan Von Doom?
- Location
- Saof Afreekah
I see your Hnng, and raise you a quiet squeal. Kittens and Amaterasu FTW:lol
Armsmaster will demand to test the kitten for Master/Stranger effects when he finds out about it.
Ammy making nice with Kayden and Aster makes sense, Kayden after all is Solar Powered.
Ammy making nice with Kayden and Aster makes sense, Kayden after all is Solar Powered.
"I AM NOT GETTING YOU A BABY."
Taylor's slippery slope into a never-ending crime spree is surprisingly well lubricated.
"YOU JUST ATE HALF AN HOUR AGO."
Mandabar
Waifu of choice is Rem. Give that girl some hugs!
- Location
- Florida, USA [Yes. Florida *FacePalm*]
I was taking a shower.
My watch told me this updated.
I RUSHED OUT.
Dog Wolf NEMESIS.
Kayden and Aster playtime with Sunny. Ice Cream sharing.
Kitten Therapy for Carol/Dallons.
GLORIOUS!
My watch told me this updated.
I RUSHED OUT.
Kayden and Aster playtime with Sunny. Ice Cream sharing.
Ah, very true. Very True. SUN-ny powered you could say.
Kitten Therapy for Carol/Dallons.
GLORIOUS!
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- Location
- Over the hill and far away
This is always so sweet and wonderful. Thank you for sharing it 
- Location
- Red Blood on Golden Shield
They are going to test positive for sure, there is a reason half the pictures in internet are about cats...
Bigj217
Ooooooohhh!!! Pretty!
- Location
- Metropolis, IL
R.I.P. Bigj217Not the sad kitten face! I laughed so hard at Armsy thinking that the projection is dangerous and Taylor racking up points and becoming well known and when Armsy screws up and he will all of Brockton Bay will be on him like me on a Krispy Kreme doughnut!
Friend to All Cats
It was was so cute it melted his heart....literally.
Sunshine is best dog, hands down
rofl:rofl:PS: the D'aww levels are rising again US, just as planned.
deadpan29
Strangely Stoic
At first I thought that meant Taylor was riding Sunny again, until it got to the bit about Sunny trotting along side. That left me confused about what Taylor was riding as the bicycle isn't mentioned until later.
TikiTau
Commander Pangolinski
- Location
- Texas
Armsmaster: I'm telling you, the kittens are causing a Master effect!
Piggot: *sigh* Armsmaster, the PRT has already been over this. That is a -known power- of kittens. It was in the memo sent out back when the PRT was getting establisehd, subsection nine-C, Exceptions To Master Power Reporting.
Armsmaster: Oh.
Piggot: ...Don't you usually keep up to date on all of those, anyways? This is highly out of character for you.
Armsmaster: ...I thought Mouse Protector had been pranking me again when I saw that section of the memo. This situation had never come up before, so I hadn't really worried about it. >_>
Miss Militia: *muffled snickers*
Ammy: *derpy doGgy grin through window outside Piggot's Office at the Protectorate*
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- Location
- In the depts of despair.
Frankly I'm still waiting until someone declares Sunny to be a Case 53, and frankly the evidence is pilling up, especially if they talk with Taylor and discover she's the pet.
Asterion
People think I'm Crazy 'cause I make no Sense
- Location
- The Island of Endless Stories
I'm just gonna watch on here from now on.
Saw the new chapter up on SB, but when I went to read other comments I saw so many violations being handed out by Mods, I was half convinced that they'd hired Oprah.
Saw the new chapter up on SB, but when I went to read other comments I saw so many violations being handed out by Mods, I was half convinced that they'd hired Oprah.