1. wild west: He'd always been more gifted to shoe horses than to ride them, but when those assholes blew through town, dragging a pretty, confused half-Injun squaw along with her hair mussed half out of its braids, he was perched on the mayor's big roan horse and giving chase before he could think twice. The sheriff hadn't cared for a half-breed. So Blue decided not to care he'd become a thief. Besides, the sheriff's guns were kind of nice in his hand.
2. cyberpunk: His datachip is malfunctioning again, the security protocols seesawing between shutting down even the internal programs so he ends up half-blind with no warning, and letting in every signal in the area. He has no money to get it changed, though -- not even enough to get it out. Sometimes he thinks the only reason he isn't blowing out the chip and his brain along with it is that him catching cop feeds is the only reason his gang has survived so far. Killing himself is one thing, but they need him, so he'll endure a little longer.
3. furries: "Hello!" the pretty spaniel says in a soft voice. "Who are you?" Blue startles awake, all his fur bristled up. He catches the snarl before it spills out of his throat when he realizes the pet dog is tiny, and alone. She's not posturing for dominance either. ... or for submission, but he's wary enough not to want to rectify that right now. ... Also, still injured. It hurts. He moved too fast. Her pink nose wrinkles and she whines in distress, eyes on the blood seeping through his fur. He gives her a wary, confused look, ears flattened on his skull. Her ears are all floppy, with long wavy hairs. He doesn't know how to read the set of them. A second later it's a moot point, because she's racing back toward the house. He throws himself forward to catch her tail. The next thing he knows he's sprawled on his front in the snow and bipedal footsteps are crunching their way to him. He tries to scramble back into the wood shed, but it hurts again and he falls, only catching himself with one elbow before he hits the ground a second time. It pulls on his wounds. He glares up, fangs bared in silent challenge at the rifle-- -- no rifle. The man is just standing there, alone, chafing his arms against the cold, and staring at him in shock. He starts crawling back, inch by inch, still snarling, but then he remembers the shed is a dead end. The whole garden is a dead end. The wall is higher inside than out. He's caught. He's dead. "Lìadan, heel!" the man yells suddenly, but the little gray and white spaniel only throws him a disappointed look over her shoulder and keeps walking to him. He growls, in confusion more than anger. Does she think she can take him, even now? His jaws still work just fine. "Shh, shh, good boy," she says. He stares some more, ears briefly flicking back up. "Lìadan, heel, he's going to bite you -- shit, shit, what is a goddamn wolf doing in my backyard--" The spaniel huffs. "Hurt. Cold. Master get blankets." "--hey there wait a minute." "And food, too." "Lìadan!" She blinks at her master, and then she pats the wolf's head with her dainty hand-paw. He's so surprised he even lets her get away with it. "Good boy, see? Now master go, quick quick." The human stares at them for a few seconds longer, and then, spouting a series of annoyed words under his breath, he obeys his pet's order. She turns back toward him and wags her fluffy tail, making a rainbow in the snow.
Blue! part 1
He'd always been more gifted to shoe horses than to ride them, but when those assholes blew through town, dragging a pretty, confused half-Injun squaw along with her hair mussed half out of its braids, he was perched on the mayor's big roan horse and giving chase before he could think twice.
The sheriff hadn't cared for a half-breed. So Blue decided not to care he'd become a thief. Besides, the sheriff's guns were kind of nice in his hand.
2. cyberpunk:
His datachip is malfunctioning again, the security protocols seesawing between shutting down even the internal programs so he ends up half-blind with no warning, and letting in every signal in the area. He has no money to get it changed, though -- not even enough to get it out. Sometimes he thinks the only reason he isn't blowing out the chip and his brain along with it is that him catching cop feeds is the only reason his gang has survived so far. Killing himself is one thing, but they need him, so he'll endure a little longer.
3. furries:
"Hello!" the pretty spaniel says in a soft voice. "Who are you?"
Blue startles awake, all his fur bristled up. He catches the snarl before it spills out of his throat when he realizes the pet dog is tiny, and alone. She's not posturing for dominance either. ... or for submission, but he's wary enough not to want to rectify that right now. ... Also, still injured. It hurts. He moved too fast.
Her pink nose wrinkles and she whines in distress, eyes on the blood seeping through his fur. He gives her a wary, confused look, ears flattened on his skull. Her ears are all floppy, with long wavy hairs. He doesn't know how to read the set of them.
A second later it's a moot point, because she's racing back toward the house. He throws himself forward to catch her tail.
The next thing he knows he's sprawled on his front in the snow and bipedal footsteps are crunching their way to him. He tries to scramble back into the wood shed, but it hurts again and he falls, only catching himself with one elbow before he hits the ground a second time. It pulls on his wounds. He glares up, fangs bared in silent challenge at the rifle--
-- no rifle. The man is just standing there, alone, chafing his arms against the cold, and staring at him in shock. He starts crawling back, inch by inch, still snarling, but then he remembers the shed is a dead end.
The whole garden is a dead end. The wall is higher inside than out. He's caught. He's dead.
"Lìadan, heel!" the man yells suddenly, but the little gray and white spaniel only throws him a disappointed look over her shoulder and keeps walking to him.
He growls, in confusion more than anger. Does she think she can take him, even now? His jaws still work just fine.
"Shh, shh, good boy," she says. He stares some more, ears briefly flicking back up.
"Lìadan, heel, he's going to bite you -- shit, shit, what is a goddamn wolf doing in my backyard--"
The spaniel huffs. "Hurt. Cold. Master get blankets."
"--hey there wait a minute."
"And food, too."
"Lìadan!"
She blinks at her master, and then she pats the wolf's head with her dainty hand-paw. He's so surprised he even lets her get away with it. "Good boy, see? Now master go, quick quick."
The human stares at them for a few seconds longer, and then, spouting a series of annoyed words under his breath, he obeys his pet's order. She turns back toward him and wags her fluffy tail, making a rainbow in the snow.