Good lord, I've been looking for Pyper for an afternoon and he's been right here. He's been right outside the stables in a tree. For context I've been all around the forest looking for him. (the area in blue.) I thought because of what the old man said he was in between the two stables.
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it truly baffles me that some people still think that, despite our standard stating otherwise, malamutes should be aggressive towards people. Yeah my dogs are more aloof than a golden retriever, but even Rowdy of Nome, the dog that inspired the creation of the breed was known for his kind, gentle nature with people (in fact this was an asset that set the dog apart from other inuit sled dogs for the Seeley's). Even if one was to go to the other strains M'Loots were known more for their good companionship and ability to be a good house pet despite their ancestry. So in reality we have always selected the breed, since its inception, to be a bit "softer" than its Greenlandic and Canadian cousins.
And if one sets aside old dog man tales of orneryness = working drive and realizes that these dogs can be both good companions and good sled dogs they would realize the purpose of the dog is BOTH.
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Kinktober – Days 23/24
Food Play: Lando / Max F
Lando pads back into the room with a paper carrier bag that he sets on the bed, then sits cross-legged beside it. Max hooks a finger over the edge to see what's in there, but Lando swipes at him.
"You'll ruin the surprise. Don't look."
Max can see him holding his breath until he moves his hand. He's got no idea what's going on – he was hoping for breakfast in bed, if he's honest – but Lando is vibrating with the sort of energy that means he's got a Plan.
"Okay," says Max. He can smell something vaguely buttery and his stomach rumbles.
"Sit up. Don't look."
Max rolls over and pushes until he's upright against the headboard. He catches a glimpse of neatly packaged containers, part of a logo, before Lando puts his hand over the top of the bag.
"Stop it. Don't make me blindfold you." Lando pauses. "Although I could. If you want?"
Max grins and scrubs through his hair, trying to force it into what he hopes is sexy bedhead, not just actual bedhead. Lando's looking at him expectantly and he realises he's genuinely waiting for an answer, slightly hopeful. He shoves Lando gently on the shoulder. "If it'll stop you telling me not to look every two seconds."
There's another pause as it becomes apparent this wasn’t part of the Plan, then Lando leans over to rummage in his bedside drawer, one hand still guarding the bag, until he triumphantly pulls out an airline amenity kit. He tugs the zip open with teeth and offers the contents to Max.
"Are you implying I have morning breath?" asks Max, mock offended. As if that's ever stopped them.
"The mask, you muppet," Lando says, upending the pouch into Max's lap with a shake then tossing everything that isn't the thin but functional sleep mask over the side of the bed.
"All right, all right! I got it." Max follows the trajectory of a miniature toothpaste skittering under the dresser and tries to remember to retrieve it later. He pulls the mask over his head, down over his eyes. "Happy?"
Lando hums in answer and wriggles closer, his knee against Max's thigh. Max can hear paper rustling, a cardboard box being opened. “Open your mouth,” says Lando.
It’s soft and slightly flaky, the first thing that Lando gives him. Warm. Almost certainly explains the buttery aroma. “Did you get croissants fro—” He doesn’t get to finish the sentence before Lando’s pushing another piece into his mouth.
“Yeah,” says Lando, and Max can hear his ridiculously soft smile. “ ’s where we had our first breakfast here.”
Max reaches for the leg he can feel pushed against his and squeezes. “Can I take the mask off?” He doesn’t say any of the other things he’s thinking, about how Lando couldn’t remember his birthday if his life depended on it, and how that doesn’t really matter because it’s remembering first breakfasts and second dates and last kisses that make a life together.
Lando nods, uselessly, then finds his voice, holding out the rest of the croissant as Max blinks him back into focus. Max takes it. “Don’t suppose there’s OJ in there, too, is there?”
He already knows there will be.
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