#handler boothill

[the-wisteria-library]

hhaiiii bubbaa !!! can i req handler! boothill carin for a lil puppy regressor pretty please ? /nf thank uu vry much !! (╯▽╰ )

Of course I can munchkin!

Our first Pet Regression HC post, how fun! I hope I did this justice ^^

Boothill PetRe Headcanons

Boothill is basically a golden retriever himself, so he'd be honoured to be someone's handler!

—Boothill was very nervous at first, every "what if" scenario under the sun ran through that boy's head. Boothill wanted to make sure his pup felt safe and happy in his care, so he researched as much as he could beforehand.

—Boothill saved up his bounty rewards to get his pup their very first collar, he was so happy to gift it to his pup that he couldn't wait for a birthday or special occasion and just gave it to them immediately.

—Boothill works best with hyper pups, as he himself has a lot of energy, but he absolutely adores low energy pups too. He'll buy an unnecessary amount of blankets, and there's a nice comfy bed for his pup in almost every room of his house.

—Boothill loves spoiling his puppy, toys, treats, special bowls, the pup gets like 80% of his income.

—Having grown up on a farm with sheep herding dogs, Boothill knows better than anyone the importance of keeping his puppy enriched. Boothill will come up with fun and engaging games he and his pup can play, while keeping in mind any limitations his puppy might have—chronic illness, disability, birth defects—he's very considerate. Very mindful. Very cutesy, very demure

—Boothill is admittedly rather bad at enforcing any punishments, especially if his pup is really young. How can he get mad? They're a pubby! Just a lil thing. Ya know that one saying "this hurts me more than it hurts you"? For once it's true. Boothill's more upset than his pup is when punishments happen!

—Boothill always has snacks and treats on hand for his pup, he's careful of any allergies too. If requested, Boothill will also restrict foods like Chocolate or garlic from his pup since bio puppies can't have them either. To make it feel more real for his lil pubby.

—Boothill, head pats, belly rubs, chin scritchies, you ask, he'll give them. Boothill is not opposed to being affectionate. As said before, he's basically a puppy himself, affections come easy.

—Boothill gets a little worried playing games with his pup due to his mechanized body. Tug-of-war is one that really gets him anxious, he's always worried he'll pull too hard on the chew toy and hurt his pups teeth or give them a bruise.

—Bath time is always fun with Boothill, especially in the summer. You know how some puppies like water hoses or sprinklers? Yea Boothill will let his pup play in the sprinkler system or playfully squirt his pup with the hose—if already been told his pup is okay with it, Boothill never sprays them without permission.

—Naptime is the best, Boothill loves to help his pup wind down for bed, be it a bottle, a pacifier, some cuddles, he doesn't mind. His puppy always has the option to sleep on the bed with him, but their puppy bed is available too. Sometimes in the winter of Boothill feels it's necessary, he'll put the dog-bed in his own bed so his pup stays warm no matter what they choose.

—overall a great Handler, might need to get some adjustment time in the start to establish a routine, but once Boothill and his puppy are on the same page, it's smooth sailing from there.

[kremnoans]

ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ 'ʀᴏᴅᴇᴏ'

✭ pairing(s): boothill x afab reader

✩ inspo: need him

★ summary: you can't help but notice how hot your boyfriend is at the rodeo...

✧ a/n: mmghhfhh robocock

🗒 cw: SMUT, gn! afab reader (no use of breasts), porn with plot, dry humping, cunnilingus, manhandling, overstimulation, edging, facesitting, not proofread

✎ wc: 3.8k

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

Dates with Boothill were few and far between, and when you two are able to have one, it’s not necessarily the most glamorous. Case in point, you were at a dingy rodeo, standing near the railings as you watched some poor soul get tossed around like a ragdoll on the bull, clutching on for dear life for only 2 seconds. As spectators cheered and hollered around you, the wranglers did their best to calm the beast down and usher it out of the ring, the announcers chatting about the performance in a language you don’t understand. Due to the rodeo’s clearly small budget, no gear had been provided for the riders, you can’t help but cringe at the thought of the possible back pain of the rider, but that fades quickly as you finally start paying attention. You could care less about the other riders, and most likely, after the next, you’d probably leave.

The next rider being Boothill. You don’t have to worry about Boothill and his gear; he’s a big boy, and he can deal. If anything were to happen, he’d just have to ask his mechanics to buff it out. It’s the last ride, and the crowd is antsy. Chatting reaches a peak around you, as the smell of alcohol becomes more prominent. Your eyes fall to the stall below you, where Boothill’s stationed, hand on the railing, chatting away with the handlers. His attention is broken for just a second, looking up at you with a cocky grin, and a tip of his hat. His eyes linger, met with a soft smile from you.

The eye contact is fleeting, however, and the announcers pull him back to focus on what’s next. They rile the crowd up, talking so fast it makes your head spin, as if you were at an auction. The only word you catch is ‘Boothill’, of course, and when you look back down at him, he’s raring to go. The minute that gate opens, he lets go of the bar, his right hand up.

The bull bucks, left, then right, right again, and into a full circle. It’s miraculous how his hat has stayed atop his head with how violently the bull is throwing him around. His chin is tucked to his chest, knees pressed against the bull, spurs digging into the bull’s ribs. Beneath the rim of his hat, you can see that cocky grin, in fact, you can almost hear his laughter under all the cheering and muttering as he makes it past 2 seconds. The wranglers pace back and forth around the bull as it jumps, another left spin. It has to be the longest 8 seconds of your life, every time the bull’s hooves touch or kick up dust, your stomach tightens. You’re undoubtedly more nervous than he is, but that feeling is soon replaced with something else.

You don’t understand why, but watching him steady while the bull thrashes about, toothy grin unwavering, heel and knees tight, something stirs within you. The whole world goes quiet as you watch intently, biting at your lip as you try and fathom how you are attracted to this. Your face flushes, the people around you are too rowdy to notice how you’ve squeezed your legs, to abate the heat forming. Luckily, that action snaps you back to reality, and as the horn sounds above you, signaling that Boothill has made it to 8 seconds, he rides out a couple more. Finally, after about another second and a half, he lets go, falling to the ground and rolling back on his feet. The bull continues to buck, and the wranglers usher it back out of the ring.

The crowd cheers and hollers as he climbs up the railings, taking his hat off and waving with a triumphant grin. Some people around you grumble and move away while the announcers try to end off the show. Boothill looks directly towards you, and you must’ve given him the look, because he gives you a sultry smirk, one that screams ‘I'm gonna get my reward’. You can even hear him say it in your head, as you try and tear your gaze away. Alas, it’s futile, cause he shoots a wink at you, before putting his hat back on and tipping it towards you again. You can’t help but stare, really. It’s only when he walks out of the ring with the wranglers that you can look away.

.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .

You meet Boothill outside of the ring, the stars above dulled by the shabby street lamps that flickered weakly. As he walks up to you, he’s thumbing through the money he’s got, grumbling something about being scammed. Yet, when he sees you, he beams, as if he hadn’t been annoyed at how little he won.

“What’s the payout?” You ask, trying to look over the cash.

“Enough for a motel,” Boothill replies quickly, moving his hands away from you as if to hide the money. “That’s all that matters.”

Despite his complaining, his tone is heavy with implications. Truth is, he could care less about the cash. He’s never around one place long enough to really need their currency; save for enough for a round of drinks or two. He was much more interested in the adrenaline rush, or the substitute of it. Boothill has always been rough n’ rowdy, he didn’t mind being thrown around, especially now. He enjoys pushing his body to his limits. But, since you’ve come into his life, there’s a new thrill added to the list. Who cares about the money when he could have his head pressed between your thighs? You knew exactly where this was going. And it’s not like you mind.

“C’mon,” Boothill jerks his head in the direction of the motel he’s got in mind, that grin never leaving his face. “There’s one close to here.” You can tell he’s eager, as much as he does his best to hide it. His hand slips around your waist, squeezing your hip gently as he ushers you away from the venue. He’s quick to pull you away from the crowd forming outside, perhaps it is to slip away from any sore losers.

You follow his lead without complaint, after all, why not indulge? A date with Boothill is rare, a night with him even rarer. You can’t reel your mind in once it’s wandered back to the sight of Boothill on the bull. You have no idea why you were entranced and why it stoked the fire low in your belly, but it’d be quelled soon enough.

As honest and sometimes discrete Boothill may be, the quick walk to the motel is filled with all sorts of lingering touches. He hooks his thumb into the waistband of your pants, teasing lightly at your hip bone. He presses himself up against your side, whispering all sorts of sweet nothings and dirty words, or what he can, at least. His goal is to make you squirm, and squirm you do. Every heavy-lidded look, every breath, it serves to fan the flames of want, of need. And by the Aeons, he’s doing it. And doing it well, at that.

By the time you two make it to the motel, you’re essentially whipped. He’s got you wrapped around his finger, and it’s hard to keep your composure for much longer. You’re a blushing mess, and you can only hope the clerk doesn’t take notice of the way you’re clinging to Boothill, the way that you avert your gaze from anyone else, even the cowboy himself. It’s not that you’re embarrassed, it’s just… a while without his touch and his time, you’ve been left empty for a long time. It’s a hunger that you can’t satiate with your hands or even toys– which feels ironic, considering the definition of Boothill’s dick was essentially a toy. But you weren’t after his dick. No, it’s his mouth you missed.

As you reminisced, you hadn’t realized he had whisked you away to the room. But, he brings you back to reality with a bruising kiss, pushing you further into the room and slamming the door behind him. His eyes are shut tight, it seems he’s more keen on satiating the heat within him then you are. He cups your face as your hands find his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Out of instinct, he begins to grind against you, even if it does nothing to abate his own desire. Regardless, he moans into the kiss. Perhaps it was some sort of phantom feeling, chasing after something he can’t quite feel. But that didn’t matter, no, not at all. What mattered was the feeling of your lips pressed against his, the way his hands tangle into your hair and pull ever so lightly, and the way you give him another moan in response.

As you begin to lose your breath, he finally pulls away. With a half-lidded gaze, his hands drift down to your waist. Wordlessly, he pushes himself closer once more, bending down ever so slightly and wrapping his arms underneath the curve of your ass, before essentially throwing you onto the bed. You yelp when your back meets the plush mattress, bouncing back slightly as the springs squeak underneath you.

Everything he does is hasty, it’s not that he’s rushing the moment, he’s just hungry… starved. He snakes his way in between your legs, arms caging you in, placed by your waist as he finally leans back down. Boothill’s face is flushed, lips parted as he pants slightly. He takes in another heavy breath before he closes the distance between you two again. He allows no room for words, only breathy moans and whimpers. This kiss is a lot shorter, it is more like an act of devouring your lips then anything, short ragged breaths escaping from the both of you in the split seconds that your lips part. Eventually, his lips make their way from your lips, down your chin, to your neck. His teeth graze your throat, causing you to sigh softly.

Oh, how you’ve missed this feeling. The sense of desperation that fills the air as you two rut against each other, the gasps and breaths that fill the space around you. As much as the space between you two feels like it could kill you, and how those nights wishing– even praying– to have Boothill in bed with you again are agonizing, these nights where desperation reigned supreme made up for it. Where you two could be at eachothers throats, ripping each other apart, exploring every inch of skin and metal once more. The nights where Boothill sinks his teeth into every inch of skin he can see, where you’re putty in his hands. It’s wonderful, letting everything go, allowing yourself to unravel. The touch you so desperately craved, metal and skin alike, honeyed words lost into a sea of bliss.

His cold hands slide up your shirt, anchoring you back into reality for a second time. His teeth sink into the crook of your neck, letting out a low hum as you whine. You arch your hips, but he pushes them back down, running his tongue along the definition of his bite. He murmurs something against your skin, the first words since you two have entered the room, and you can’t exactly make out what it is. Something like ‘stay put’, which you oblige to, regardless. His hands knead at the flesh, trailing his tongue along your shoulder where his teeth find home once more. He groans this time, as you close your eyes and roll your head back. He doesn’t even have your shirt off and you are soaked. You try to close your legs to stave off the heat build between them, however, his legs prevent you from doing that. You whimper slightly at this, which finally draws Boothill’s attention away from your neck and shoulders. He looks down between you with a smirk, and for a moment you swear you could see his eyes lock on.

“This what ya want?” Boothill asks, pressing his body closer, grinding his groin against yours. The friction makes you groan, arching your back once more. The friction is delicious, every press of his hips against yours fanning the flames of tension. It only serves as a temporary reprieve, but it feels good. You can only nod and babble out something that sounds like a ‘yeah’, pressing your hips up against his every moment they pull away.

It’s wonderful, the way that his cock slots in between your legs, and presses up against your clit, despite the barrier. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist, locking him closer. In your hazy dance, you feel as if you mourn every split second his cock doesn’t press against you. He can only chuckle at your desperation, pressing increasingly more feverish kisses against your neck, sometimes sucking, sometimes biting.

Boothill is drunk off all the little sounds you make, picking up the pace of his grinding, pressing you back into the mattress. He just can’t get enough, the way you raise your hips into him, wordlessly begging for more, the taste of your skin… Aeons, you’re addicting. He could care less about how little physical gratification he gets, to have you undone beneath him already is reward enough. Every moan from you earns a grunt of appreciation from him, throwing his head back. While you miss the warmth of his mouth against your skin, you aren’t necessarily disappointed with the view from below…

The heat in between your legs hits a fever pitch as you feel a coil tighten below your stomach. Your legs squeeze against Boothill’s, shutting your eyes tight and letting out a high pitched ‘mmh!’ as a warning. Boothill takes this as a sign to stop, to toy with you. Just as you feel like you’re about to unravel, he pulls away, leaving you feeling empty. You groan and reach up for him, wiggling a little underneath him as an attempt to allow yourself to finish.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Boothill tuts, stepping back. Before you can press your legs together, he catches your thigh with his hand, squeezing and the flesh. “Gotta wait. You can do that, yeah?”

All you manage is a weak nod, wanting so desperately to beg him to let you cum. That doesn’t mean you’ll be complacent though, you know he’s missed you just as much as you have, and you know he’s rather… impulsive. All you have to do is moan a little louder, say his name in a sweeter way, and you’ll have him weak in the knees. You’re so sure of it.

As you hatch your plan, Boothill takes his sweet time getting himself ready. He takes off his hat, setting it on the bedside table, before climbing up onto the bed. His knees pressed against your hips, stradling you. He’s got his cocky grin plastered to his face once more, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he looks down at your flushed face. You prop yourself up on your elbows, a silent challenge as you shift beneath him. His grin turns sultry, leaning his head down and meeting your lips. It’s a chaste kiss, somehow softer from the hungry kisses from early, and he pulls away all too soon.

He doesn’t leave you wanting this time, though. You can tell by the way his eyebrows are barely furrowed, the way he starts chewing on his lip, and the slight narrow in his eyes that, good Aeons, he just cannot wait. That, and, the very obvious tent in his pants. Sure, he’s not adorned with the most ‘human’ bits, but he told the mechanic to make sure ‘it worked juuuust right’. But that’s not the focus here, no, the way he’s sliding down between your body, practically drooling as his head rests on your thigh.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” Boothill grumbles as he fumbles with the button on your jeans. It takes him a full second to undo them, sliding them down to your ankles. You wiggle them off, just as he decides he’s too impatient and presses his mouth to your underwear, tongue flat against your pussy. You let out a stifled moan, hand instinctively tangling within his hair.

Boothill’s eyes flicker up to you, then close, his hands sliding up and anchoring you in place by your hips. He noses at your clit, lapping up whatever he can between your legs. He could care less about the barrier, really, you can feel his teeth grazing your clit every once in a while, which adds a whole new thrill to this experience as is. He wouldn’t bite, as he is prone to, he knows better.

In between hurried licks and sloppy sucks, getting what he can even through the barrier, he presses gentle kisses to your thighs, sometimes licking along your stretch marks. He does this to prolong the experience, granting himself some restraint, no matter how badly he wants to make you cum over and over and over in his mouth. You can tell how hard he’s trying to hold back, his fingertips digging into the plush of your hips, small exasperated grunts found their way in between his ministrations.

You tug on his hair softly, thighs pressed against either side of his face. He looks beautiful like this, face squished between your thighs, eyes closed, mouth open as he laps at your clothed folds. It’s a sight to behold, truly. Every lick causes you to whine, the rough feeling of your underwear pressing against you, pushing just a little further. His breath fans against your pussy, soft grunts and groans escaping his lips, providing a delicious vibrating sensation against your heat.

You feel the coil tightening once more, and silently pray to Lan that he won’t stop in your hazy mind. Your moans increase, letting out soft, high-pitched noises, tugging at his hair slightly. Boothill lets out a low, raspy laugh, hands pulling you closer harshly as if you weren’t close enough. He doesn’t pull away this time, lapping at your underwear at a near crazed pace, like he needs you to cum. And cum you do, your body arching as you dig your nails into his scalp, whimpering out his name.

He laps up your release, or what he can, growing increasingly agitated at what little he can taste through your underwear. Only then does he finally peel away the barrier, his fingers almost too quick. If he was still human, he’d be shaking. He is too quick to claim his place back at your pussy, his licks sloppy and greedy as he claims his prize. Each stripe licked up against your drooling pussy sends a tingling feeling up your spine, making you whine and try and push his head away. But he doesn’t stop.

When your thighs squeeze against his face, as if trying to block him away from such a precious well of ambrosia, his hands fall from your hips, snaking in between your thighs and pushing them open. He pants against your pussy, his warm breath fanning over it, causing you to shiver. You feel like you are… at his mercy, even if you’ve only came once. It is not a bad feeling, you yourself know you are putty in his hands, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

However, it seems Boothill is now unsatisfied with this position. He pulls away from you reluctantly, pushing you up further on the bed, and shimmying his way up onto the bed fully. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he grabs you by the hips and rolls you over so you were on top of him, hauling you down easily. His mouth finds purchase on your pussy so easily, lapping at it eagerly.

You don’t dare to even move, simply arching your back as you press your hands into his abdomen to keep yourself up. All sorts of lewd noises come from his throat as he continues his ministrations, staring right up at you with a near challenging look. He alternates between licking and suckling on your clit, hungry growls filling the space in between grunts as if having you press flush against his mouth was not enough.

You can feel overstimulation creep up on you, while his actions don’t hurt, it’s starting to tingle a little, providing a comfortably numb feeling alongside the pleasure that wells between your legs once more. Your body heats up more than you thought it could, and slowly your hips follow Boothill’s tongue. It’s not long until you start to grind against his mouth fully, his nose notching against your clit when he wasn’t sucking on it.

“Ya forkin’ like that?” Boothill asks, muffled, before diving back in once more, his hands pulling your hips down even more, pressing you into his mouth. “F-Fudge… So gosh dang good…”

You’d be poking fun at his censorship, but you just can’t help the moans that roll off your tongue. You can’t help but chase after it, your orgasm already gripping you. Your thighs tense and you groan, rolling your head back and cumming onto Boothill’s tongue once more. But he wasn’t done. Your hips jolt as his eating becomes even more hungry, sloppy, the need to ravage you taking hold. What a beautiful aphrodisiac you are, how he would love to drown in between your thighs.

But you stop him from that dream, unfortunately. The numb feeling gave way to an odd hurt, something that felt almost electric. Your hips buck as your body tenses, doing what you can to pull away from Boothill’s iron grip. Eventually, he loosens, his hands coming down onto your thighs, and you raise your pussy from his lips. Slimy tendrils of spit and slick connect his mouth to you, his chin covered in your slick. He grins up at you, eyes practically sparkling.

“M’sorry,” He starts, squeezing your thighs. “Taste too good. Got ahead of m’self.”

You can’t help but admire the sight beneath you, Boothill’s flushed face, happy as can be, as if he had just won the world. Before he lets you go, he leans in, pressing a heated kiss to your clit, pulling back. He changes his mind quickly though, now peppering your folds with more kisses until you shuffle off of him. At that, he lets out a low, mock annoyed groan, before sitting back up.

You sit on his stomach, your slick painting his abdomen, your ass pressed up against the erection pressing against his tight jeans. He doesn’t move to relieve it, he could really care less about it. He’d already taken what he wanted– more like what he deserved– and he was sated. Unless you were game to give him more…

© sentoooo, 2024 | masterlist | kofi | star header by roseschoices | sfw blog DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[aventurineswife]

I am in the mood.

To expand on Boothill x Reader x Dan Heng being co-parents (incoming long paragraphs):

Baby One…is a young borisin! With foxian ancestry. Basically, the reverse of a foxian like Feixiao, who is afflicted with Moon Rage due to her borisin ancestry. Just a tad younger than Clara (physically speaking) but unfortunately forced to grow up quickly in order to survive the hostile environment they were raised in. They have no recollection of either of their parents, since all they remember is growing up in a lab. (Whether or not they were kidnapped or given away, they don’t know; but they have a strong feeling it was the former, based on what little they can read of documents they peeked at.) Because of their blood, they faced quite a bit of harsh treatment from both sides (most foxians view them with suspicion because they are borisin, while the borisin look down on them with equal disdain because they have traces of foxian blood). Being diagnosed with an inability to produce lupitoxin really didn’t help their case (they’re immune to it, but their body can’t produce it).

So, no surprise that they were abandoned and left to fend for themselves amongst morally gray scientists; and they became one of an unknown number of test subjects for the Mock Crimson Moon project, having their heart replaced with a Mock Crimson Moon. (It’s a curio from the game’s Divergent Universe! I think someone posted screenshots of its description, I’ll have to go find it later.) Their healing became strong enough to withstand the effects of Moon Rage, possibly stronger than normal compared to the average borisin; but they also suffer from bouts of sickness and heart problems, especially after straining themselves too much.

While they were being transported at a space station, they managed to give their handlers the slip and was hitchhiking on ships willing to turn a blind eye to their presence before someone reported a “wandering and possibly homeless child” to some authorities. The reporter probably meant well — who wouldn’t, at the sight of a child exhausted, starving and struggling on their own? — or they probably didn’t, because the borisin already have a horrible reputation, and the child is a borisin. Either way, that resulted in them being located and recaptured by their handlers, after which they were sedated, handcuffed, and monitored almost 24/7. They could have struggled and told someone, but they had not only developed severe trust issues from mistreatment from all sides, they had also grown accustomed to people not really believing anything they say.

They were able to catch another lucky break when they were being transported again and the ship carrying them was suddenly raided by bandits, forcing their handlers to make an emergency stop at a nearby research station. While escaping their confines, they came across another child (a toddler, who would soon become their adopted sibling) and snatched them away before their handlers ran back to check on them, using the station’s security alarms to cause panic so they could slip away in the chaos.

They end up running into Reader while trying to sneak away to the escape pods, and the rest is history.

Baby Two…is a totally normal little baby, because the scientists never got the chance to run their experiments before Baby One set off the alarms and made off with them. They’re old enough to move around on their own, but they haven’t learned how to walk yet. They have absolutely no idea what the heck is happening around them, but they still scare and cry easily because of all the scary adults in white lab coats. They really like their fluffy sibling tho—

In the present, Reader has absolutely no idea what to do with these two children, but they’ll be damned if they just drop them off in the middle of nowhere or, worse, at an orphanage or another station where they could easily fall right back into the hands of their abusers. So Reader rings up Dan Heng and Boothill in advance to let them know they’ll be staying on the Astral Express for possibly a long while, and to ask Boothill for help in hunting down and wrangling the researchers responsible.

The first few days are very rough. The older child absolutely had qualms with staying on the Express after seeing Dan Heng, March and the Trailblazer’s shocked and slightly nervous reactions, a clear indicator that the trio has already encountered the bad kind of borisin before; but Reader tells them the gist of what happened (having already collected evidence while raiding) and the child is successfully convinced to at least board with them and get some rest.

The younger baby doesn’t mind at all. They surprisingly pick up on the crew’s easygoing nature, and the next thing anyone knows, March is playing with them and spamming baby pictures in the group chat. (One of them is of the toddler in a bunny onesie, and another is a clip of them chasing after Pom-Pom while the poor conductor is trying to complete chores.)

Dan Heng immediately feels for the children. He might not know what it’s like to be experimented on (unless the part where he was injected by Lingsha’s master counts) but he does know what it’s like to be confined in a cold and unloving environment since childhood; and he feels really bad that his first reaction (even if a knee-jerk reaction) towards one of them was caution and wariness. He volunteers the room Himeko originally prepared for him (he never sleeps in it, anyway) and personally treats the older child’s wounds, helping them bathe and clean up to avoid infection, giving them ice packs (they keep refusing medicine) and helping Pom-Pom cook for them. The child refuses to eat at first out of fear the food might be drugged (and Dan Heng wants to cry and rage at the heavy implications) so Dan Heng eats with them to show that the food wasn’t tampered with; and the child can’t help digging in afterwards because it’s the first time they’ve eaten something so good and filling. Dan Heng even goes as far as to use the medicines on himself so the child won’t be scared when he gives it to them.

Boothill is ready to throw hands with those researchers when he finally corners them. The second one, the toddler, reminds him way too much of his first daughter before his home was destroyed by the IPC. The fact that both children were tormented by a faction related to the same corporation makes him all the more upset, as it’s a reminder that the IPC is not at all above harming lives barely old enough to stand or speak if it means having their way.

The only reason he doesn’t immediately fill them with lead is because Reader needs them alive for detainment and information, and they know the best place to drop them in: the Shackling Prisons aboard the Xianzhou ships. (He also knows that Dan Heng will want to break some teeth later.) All Reader had to do was say that the researchers were dabbling in unethical experiments with the Abundance — i.e. borisin tissue — and submit the collected documents, and the Cloud Knights were all too eager to arrest them. They know the IPC would simply take advantage of having custody of those researchers and prolong their experiments in secret, so Reader has them split up and shipped off to the Alliance. (Only Jing Yuan, Yukong and Lingsha are trusted to know the full details of the kids.)

As for the older child, Boothill picks up on how wary they are of just about everything and everyone, and he’s well-aware of how scary he might appear; so he shows them how to safely handle weapons. It’s questionable, but at this point the kid already knows how to point and shoot. Might as well teach them safety practices.

All that serious business aside, Dan Heng is evidently the favorite parent. The two kids always default to him when he’s available, and the toddler sometimes has difficulty settling down from a crying fit without him. They just really like his calm, gentle and comforting nature.

It’s especially hilarious with the toddler.

March has new toys for them? Ignored.

Trailblazer has snacks and candy? Ignored.

Welt draws and animates cartoons? Ignored.

Himeko leaves out a toy toolbox for them? Ignored.

Pom-Pom actually has free time to play? Ignored.

Firefly visits? Ignored.

Yukong visits and tries that foxian tradition of leaving items out to predict their future? Ignored.

Uncle Jing Yuan visits? Ignored.

Papa Boothill visits? Ignored.

Reader is in the room? Ignored.

…And Reader is the one who not only rescued them, but also the first person to love and care for them.

Even when the toddler takes their first steps, they go straight to Dan Heng. It doesn’t matter if he encourages them to go to either Boothill or Reader, they will always stay with Dan Heng. 🤣

Boothill: 🥲 “Dagnabbit…”

Reader: 🫠 “This is fine…”

The extra kicker here is that if Dan Heng isn’t around, the toddler will instead go to Jing Yuan if he’s on the Express. 😂

Oh my god, this is absolute gold.

I love how this whole dynamic is a mix of heart-wrenching, hilarious, and heartwarming all at once. The first kid is so well thought out—the way their background shaped their extreme wariness, the Mock Crimson Moon element (which is such a cool and terrifying idea), and the way their survival instincts are so sharp but also so tragically necessary. And the second baby just vibing through all of it, completely oblivious to the chaos, is the perfect contrast.

Dan Heng being the default parent is KILLING me. The mental image of this little toddler just bypassing literally everyone to waddle straight into his arms, despite Reader being the one who rescued them, is so funny. Boothill's frustration? Reader just accepting it at this point? Chef's kiss.

Also, Boothill and Dan Heng just seething over the horrors these kids have been through, Boothill wanting to fill the researchers with lead, and Dan Heng going full quiet-rage mode? Perfection. And the fact that Boothill ends up teaching the older one weapon safety because, well, they already know how to shoot? So fitting.

And let’s not ignore the Jing Yuan failsafe. Like, if Dan Heng isn’t available, then Jing Yuan will do, but only then. Just imagining him trying to keep his cool while secretly melting because this tiny baby is clinging to him instead of literally anyone else on the Express? Priceless.

Honestly, I would read an entire book of this. It’s SO GOOD.

[spurhill-n]

Boothill is quiet for a little while, brows furrowing in thought before he glanced at the other man, no longer seeming in the mood to jest. "One a'the people I was huntin' for turned out t'be one o'them Memokeeper types.. th'bad ones. Called 'Cremators' I think. Destroyers of memories." His foot tapping gets slightly louder, then stops. "I remember goin' off t'find him, piddlin' around, then... leavin'. Th'only reason I figured somethin' might be wrong is 'cause I got messages on my phone, n'my 'handler' told me 'bout where I was goin' n'why."

Though his body held many deep grooves and gashes due to battles, there didn't seem to be much different save for a panel that didn't want to sit right on his back where he spine would be.

There's another bout of silence before something pops up on the screen. Boothill is offering him access to his a specific section of a memory storage. Rather, the specific timeframe he's concerned about. "I wanna know if it's really missin' or if it's just hidden from me."

he   found   the   cowboy   far   more   amicable   then,   even   though   he   was   more   frustrated   than   usual,   given   the   time   of   night   he   had   chosen   to   demand   his   attention   at.   as   the   application   appeared,   ratio   idly   browsed   what   data   he   could   access,   and   glanced   over   every   bit   of   information   he   could   spot.

❛    you   are   being   too   vague,   ❜   he   pointed   out,   weary   rather   than   pointed   as   he   usually   was.   ❛    what   has   you   convinced   that   something   is   missing,   exactly   ?   ❜   then,   he   briefly   let   his   eyes   roam   those   metallic   parts   of   his,   as   though   he   might   be   able   to   spot   some   damage,   or   any   devices   that   may   have   been   attached   to   him   during   combat.   ❛    there   could   be   traces.   describe   the   exact   altercation   to   me,   in   as   much   detail   as   you   can.   ❜

though,   he   halted   briefly   to   give   him   a   shifty   look.   ❛    you   hardly   need   me   to   compliment   you.   ❜

[immobiliter]

       This Natlanese stranger didn't seem offended, at least. That was good. Navia slowly relaxed, the sheepish grin on her face mellowing into a warm smile. Some sort of... vet or animal handler, if she had to guess? But while her rescuer appeared to be quite laid back, the bird-saurian accompanying him seemed a lot more... enthusiastic. Navia flinched as it suddenly appeared in her field of view, though the saurian would find that its curiosity was certainly matched by the way her own blue gaze landed on it in return.

       She couldn't hide her surprise as the saurian spoke ( did all saurians speak here in Natlan? ), and made its indignant attitude known towards its human friend. Navia watched the exchange play out with ever increasing amusement, biting down on her lip to muffle her laughter. “ Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Cacucu. My name is Navia. ”

       As she listened further, something the man said suddenly caught her attention. “ The... Flower-Feather clan? I believe that's where my companion — he's a family friend — was taking me. That's his clan. His name is Boothill. ” Navia hoped for some flicker of recognition in the stranger's eyes, but she had no idea how huge ( or not ) Natlan's clans were. They may not have been as close-knit as the Spina di Rosula, where everyone knew everyone. “ He told me he had some business to attend to, so to go on ahead and explore while I waited... but it seems I wandered a little further than I meant to. ”

He is quick to wave a hand, his face settling into an easy, welcoming smile. "No, no, don't worry. No harm done, miss! I'm just glad you didn't get nipped. I'm not bad with treating people, but it's not really my specialty." As he speaks, he reaches into his bag with his other hand, fetches a handful of snacks for the qucusaur now pecking at his boot. "This little guy isn't always bad-tempered, but no one likes being in pain." He bends, lets the saurian eagerly gobble up the snacks right from the palm of his glove.

He brushes the crumbs from his hands as he rises again, watching the saurian scamper away after a butterfly. Cacucu, his job done, flutters up beside her, inspecting her with evident curiosity. "Ah, Cacucu, that's a little rude, bro. Give her some space." He offers her another smile, this one a little sheepish. "You'll have to excuse my partner. We don't come across new people all that often, so he sometimes forgets his manners." Cacucu whirls around, somehow managing to look indignant.

"What the heck are you on about?"

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, Cacucu." He shakes his head, sighs. "Anyway... I'm glad you chose to visit. It's always nice seeing new faces around here. We, uh... we don't get out of Natlan much - at least, we didn't before. Are you staying near the Stadium, or have one of the tribes taken you in? If you haven't been already, you should check out the hot springs at the People of the Springs. Or, if you're here more for adventure, I'm obliged to recommend my people, the Flower-Feather Clan. You ever wanted to fly, miss?"

[spurhill-n]

Boothill shifts, eyes curiously tracking the Good Doctor as he moves about the area. This would be the first time he's trusted someone other than his 'handler' for any sort of maintenance.

"Well for quick stuff, usually there's a device that connects directly t'one a'the ports I got. But since we ain't got that, you c'n borrow this." His hands rummage about in his pockets and compartments before producing a small... thingamajig. It seemed to be able to plug into one's phone. "It'll let ya use your phone t'access all th'data bits n'stuff. You'll need permissions for certain things, I c'n give ya that, easy. But it's pretty late, right? I just wanna quick check if anythin's suspicious. That thing I gave ya should flag if somethin's wrong or ain't s'posed t'be there. Can't really do that myself." He takes a moment to look himself over then chuckles.

"If y'wanna check me out, I'm cool with it." The hardware, that is.

barely   did   ratio   manage   to   open   the   door   properly   when   the   ranger   already   barged   right   into   his   home.   thankfully   for   him,   there   was   little   to   no   clutter   to   speak   of,   everything   set   into   meticulous,   distraction-free   storage   spaces,   and   bookshelves   tidily   kept   in   every   room.   even   the   sofa   seemed   immaculate,   almost   even   unused.

he   followed   after   him,   and   stood   before   the   cowboy.   the   anxious   tapping   was   silently   noted.   ❛    can   you   describe   how   these   check-ups   typically   occur   ?   is   there   some   sort   of   console   or   port   to   access,   or   will   an   examination   of   your   hardware   suffice   ?   ❜