DISCLAIMER: I do not own PAW Patrol, the characters, or any association of the series.

A/N: HELLO READERS! Comment replies and extended A/N notes will now be at the bottom of chapters! Keeps everything cleaner so we can dive right into the chapter.

For all of you readers who are heading back to school, well here's a gift for ya. ^^

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"Dude."

"…"

"Dude."

Nope, still nothing.

"Dude…"

Someone sighed. And then finally, "What's wrong now?"

"…Are we thewe yet?"

"No, not yet Zuma."

The Sea Rescue Labrador groaned, throwing his head against the seat. "Then how come it feels like it's taking fowever? Told ya we should've taken my ride."

Rocky, the recylcing and mechanic pup of the P.A.W. Patrol, frowned considerably as he peered his eye over. "But you know yours is not compatible on the terrain. Besides, I want to pick some stuff up. My truck's space is endless."

"Yeah, like a black hole." Zuma grumbled. He leaned back, letting his eyes drift to the grazed landscape, which hadn't change for awhile now. "Still wished we took my hovercraft…"

"Why come if you're gonna complain the whole way?"

"Dude, you know I always come. It's twadition now."

Rocky wanted to correct him and say Zuma invited himself on every occasion, but he decided to let it slide. In fact, the first time Zuma tagged along, Rocky didn't even know he was being followed! And after being bombarded with questions that made the mixed breed flustered, he finally agreed Zuma could come.

"Only once!" He exclaimed that day, and Zuma had a cheeky smile. "But that's it."

Now… it was surely beyond thirty.

The pup mechanic spun the wheel onto another dirt road, this one much shorter than the previous ones they were on. Beside them, there was a huge field of sheep roaming around. Zuma eyed them lazily.

"Okay, last time I'll ask. Is that the one your family owns?"

Rocky didn't even need to see. "Yup."

Zuma pouted. "You didn't even look."

"I don't need to. I just know."

"Sixth sense?"

"…Maybe." Rocky began slowing down, and they were approaching a house in the clearing. At the sight of it, Rocky felt his mouth curve up –

"Alright!" Zuma bounced up from his seat, grin wide, and Rocky jerked from the yelling. The pup attempted to glare at him but Zuma ignored the disapproving glance as the truck came to a stop.

Both leaped from the truck seat, and were immediately met with rich, moist soil between festered between their paws. Zuma was indifferent to the texture.

But Rocky…ahhh, Rocky lived for these moments.

Smiling bashfully at the sight before him, he never felt more at ease as being here.

What stood in front of them was a fair size farmhouse, full of faded brown stone and a porch in the front. The roof was a red brick, sprouting out two chimneys on opposite ends. However, the evident thing was the vines and bushes covering on one side of the house, facing foreword towards the pups.

Zuma nudged his friend, and the grey-haired pup stumbled a bit. "Missed home?"

Rocky nodded quietly, almost in awe. "Yeah…"

"Where are they?"

Rocky sniffed the air. "Around. They shouldn't be far."

Zuma trailed behind Rocky as he lead, and a weird bubbly feeling began to arose in Rocky's belly. He was familiar with this sensation, as it often happened when he's too excited, but hey, the pup couldn't help it! He was going to see his family again. It was especially apparent that this would be the first time in over three months. That was far too long for Rocky's liking.

"Oh!" Zuma raced back to the truck.

"Huh? What's wrong?" Rocky asked.

"I forgot to bring my surfing trophy pic! I promised to show them when I came back!"

"Oh biscuits just leave it in the truck–!"

Almost immediately, three small sounds of barking began yapping away towards them, and the mechanic pup turned to the sound.

From the curb of a large red paneled farmhouse were three small pups running in a chaotic fashion, charging like bullets being launched from a canon.

…And Rocky was their target.

He smiled in response. "Hey pups – oomph!" Far stronger than a light shove Zuma did occasionally (Rocky mildly realized he needed to have a stronger backbone), the pup soared back into the mud and dirt, and the three little ones landed right on his chest.

Shuddering his head from the light dizziness, what he saw were three panting faces, beaming brightly at him.

"Big Bwother!" they called.

"Uh, I'm back." They began licking his face, and Rocky tried to swat them away. "Ack! Wet! Guys! You know I don't like that!"

"Whoops, sorry!" they jumped off him, but it was evident of their tails wagging in excitement they had no plans to calm down.

"When did you get back?!" they tried to bark over one another, and then heard snippets of some supposed arguing they had earlier, now complaining to him to sort it out. Simply put, it was just pure chaos what was happening.

"Pups!" Rocky used a tone far stronger than he's accustomed to, and if you compare to the other pups yelling, it surely sounded the weakest in sound. However, to those three little ones, they immediately clamped up their mouths and stilled, waiting for the next command.

"There's no need to talk over each other! Remember, one at a time."

The pups blinked up at him. They were triples – Ash, Ziggy and Scout. Funny enough, while they were all relatively the same size as one another, they barely looked like each other. Ash adapted a dark black coat, and Scout was the lightest with a cream colour. The only one who looked like a mirror image of Rocky was Ziggy, but even he had no dark fur spot colour on his left eye. However, they all had that auburn colour hue in their eyes, bright and friendly.

(Well, mostly. Ziggy always had a mischievous glint).

"I'm glad you're back big bwother!" The black one stuttered, and now he pointed beside him. "Scout is bullyin' me!"

"WHAT?!" the cream-coloured one screamed. "I'm not!"

He almost shrunk at the squeal, but he stood his ground. "Yah you are!"

"And when?!" the pup retorted.

"We've been playing ya dumb game for so long now! I already said I don't wanna be servant in "castle kingdom" !"

"But who's gonna do what I say then?!" Scout countered with a pout. "Wocky, Ash ain't bein' nice! He just weads and talks to his plants all day, and I have to drag him to play. And Ziggy won't even play with us! He only wants to blow up stuff!"

The one named Ziggy was quiet, opting to stick out his tongue at his siblings. Scout fumed, and Ash looked like he wanted to cry, whining about never getting his way.

Rocky patted the air with his paws, trying to calm the triplets down. They get so hyped up sometimes – it seemed barely anything has changed since he left.

"Woah, woah, woah pups! Guys should calm down a bit. Remember, clear your heads. I'm not even back for a few minutes and you pups are already going crazy."

"Yeah pups, and it ain't cool to be all worked up for nothing." Zuma said, sauntering back to the group. Rocky frowned at the sight. Yup, his friend probably left that so called epic photo back at the Lookout.

The triplets cheered. "Zuma!"

"Eh pups." He grinned coolly.

The all went to hug him, and while they didn't jump all over him like their older brother, their affection was evident and loud, even for Ziggy who rarely got excited.

Scout was probably the only one who was the closed to leaping, almost landing on his head. Rocky tried to correct them, but Zuma dismissed his friend's scowling, letting them do what they want.

"Are you now gonna play with us Wocky?!" Scout asked pleadingly with innocent looking eyes.

"Yeah, you're back. You gotta play Big Browther. Or at least teach us somethin' new."

Ziggy grunted in agreement.

"Haha, alright, I will pups!" Rocky reassured. "But I gotta see everyone first though before I start playing with you three." All three whined. "Now, do you know where's –"

"Pups!" the front door the porch swung open, and a lady wearing a cotton dress and rain boots stepped out. She was an older woman, looking to be about in her late 50s. She was short and pudgy, a soft bun braided around her head, and hair fading from a blonde into a grey. Wrinkles were evident on her aging face and hands, and she was scowling. "If Aah hear ya'll fighting again bout' silly little things Imma send you pups straight to the corner –!"

She froze, staring at what was in front of her.

"R-Rocky!"

He grinned. "Hi Mama Fran!"

That strict demeanor immediately faltered, and she stumbled slightly to get to him. Courteous of her effort, Rocky rushed towards her, and she scooped up the pup swiftly in her short stature.

"Ah, Rocky! Missed you so much. Aah...Aah didn't think you'd be coming today." She placed the dog down, noticing another pup beside him, and her face brightened.

"And Zuma! Another friendly face on this lovely day."

He was chilled as ever, swaying a paw in greeting. "Hey Mrs. McKay."

"Pleasure ta see ya again." The old lady cleaned her hands with the apron around her waist before petting the pup. "Shucks Zuma, ya should call me Fran now. Golly knows how many times you come here. Yur like family now."

He waved his paw in dismissal. "Nah, I'm just respectful. You're the one who wuns the show here anyway."

Mrs. McKay laughed. "Hm. Aah suppose."

"Zuma! Zuma!" the pups yelped, "Play with us!"

"Yeah, Wocky doesn't want to play. He said he's too busy."

"Cause he's a poo-poo face!" they giggled at that.

"Hey, I'm not a poo-poo face." Rocky defended. "And when did I say that?"

Zuma laughed at the so-called name bestowed on his friend. "Ah, damn, look at that Wocky! Looks like they like me more now. More than their big bwother." The gray pup rolled his eyes.

"C'mon Zuma!" Scout cheered. "It's gonna be fun!"

"Oh no you pups." Mrs. McKay frowned, hands at her hips. "Ya'll didn't clean up the mess in the living room, and the toys out here too in the front! Aah want that tidy up before ya'll go running off to play."

The pups cohosted a long groan to each other but another sharp look from the elderly woman the pups scattered and began to clean.

Rocky shook his head at the scene. Just like old times. Mama Fran has an iron grip. He glanced up to his owner. "Where's Papa Joe?"

"Hm. He went ta town today to sell em' wool, but he should be heading back soon."

"And where's –?"

She had a knowing look. "Old Gizmo's the tool shed, workin' as usual."

Rocky grinned. Oh how typical of him to do so. "I'm gonna go see him Zuma. I'll be back soon."

"Yeah, sure bro." Zuma agreed with a shrug. "Take your time."

"Mama Fran! Mama Fran!" One of the pups shouted, "There's so much mess!" Beside Scout, Ziggy was dragging himself on the ground, face down.

"Well that's er own fault for making a mess of the place." She quipped.

Ash sat up. "…Can Zuma help?"

"Zuma!" That brought delight to the pups' faces, and they looked earnestly to the older woman. "Can he Mama Fran? Can he? Can he?"

She pursed her lips even more. "Pups, that ain't nice to ask Zuma ta clean yur –"

"Don't worry Mrs. McKay." The Labrador in topic shrugged. "I don't mind at all."

"Ya sure? They ought to know better to get you to help them–"

"Nah, really Mrs. McKay! I like helping them. Plus I don't see them a lot."

"Well, if ya sure about that," she lingered her thoughts, finally turning around and heading inside. "Aah be starting up lunch anyway! They're all yurs Zuma."

The triplets howled at the approaching pup.

"Haha." He shook his head. "You little dudes have so much enewgy."

"L-Little dudes?!"

Zuma blinked. Scout had a sour look all over that little puppy face, and Zuma laughed.

"Oh right." The lab patted Scout's head softly. "Dudes and Dude-ette. Don't worry. I didn't forget about you."

Scout beamed adorably.

"Don't worry Zuma." Ziggy said, and Ash snickered. "We forget she's a girl too."

It was barely a second before both brothers were soaked to the ground, groaning in pain.

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As Zuma preoccupied the younger pups, Rocky was able to quietly make his way to his destination. The farm was small, surely not large to provide sole food to the town of Fair Oaks, but they did contribute a fair amount back into the community. They were mostly a sheep and milk farm, (hence the herd of sheep they saw back on the road earlier). He was told the family tried to get into other fields in the earlier years, but it wasn't as successful as they hoped it would be.

He paused by the barn they owned, and one was full of farm animals Rocky had grown up with since he was little. He said hi to all, and they crooned in their respective animal voices back. Rocky swore he could understand some of them and can converse, but then again it wasn't like he could speak hen. Or rooster. Or duck. Or horse.

He wondered though where Nibbles was. He was probably sleeping somewhere, hiding from the noise as usual.

With that thought in mind, Rocky rounded the Barnhouse, and made it to the shed. Sure, it was old looking (everything was old on this farm) but it was fairly large for a typical tool shed. Made out of pure rustic brown wood, it stuck out compared the paneling of the red barn and stone farmhouse. The twin doors were jagged open, and Rocky peeked inside.

"Woah!" he dodged the flying piece of tin coming to his head, and it rolled rowdily on the ground. Blinking in puzzlement, he eyed back the source, and there surrounded in metal and trinkets, was a dog was hunching over in concentration.

The dog's head peeped up, and the first thing Rocky noticed was the faded black welding mask staring back at him. It bared scratches and flickers of rust all over, but to Rocky's ever need of re-using, it definitely didn't look old in his eyes.

"Eh? Whatcha' doin' here?" the voice cracked under the lid. "This is mah property! Scram ya stinkin' crows!"

"Um," Rocky itched his head. "I'm not a crow."

"Heh? Then what are ya' ? Oh no, yer the collectors. Ready to meh away to dat better place?! Well aah ain't goin' without a fight, ya hear? Imma still young as a fiddle bought on a Sunday mornin'!"

"What – no, no, I'm not coming to take your soul away." Rocky entered deeper into the shed, and the dog continued to stare warily. "I'm a pup."

The mask flicked up, and it revealed a very aging dog, the once immaculate gray fur coat losing its vivid hue. His face had white all over, and dark blue eyes were heavy with time.

"Err," he blinked. "Wow, ya look like mah grandson! Ya got a face mighty like him, fur n' all."

"Grandpa." Rocky rolled his eyes in good humour. "I am your grandson. It's me! Rocky."

The old dog leaned forward even more, and those securitizing eyes flickered in shock.

"Rocky?"

He nodded, a shy smile on his face.

"Well heavens to betsy! Rocky my pup! Yur back!" The dog's grin stretched right across his face.

"Haha, I am Grandpa."

"Why the, hold up. When did ya say you'd be comin' back?"

"I told you last week, over the phone. And I sent an email. Did you read it?"

"Waa, Aah don't read stinkin' email. Useless to meh."

Rocky let out a laugh.

"And it don't matter Aah read it. Imma not that high tech kind of dog." He made away to grab something on the pegboard. "And besides, Imma workin' on somethin'. Mah mind's been busier than a bee for dem while now."

Rocky took a quick glance at the contraption on the ground. He immediately knew what his Grandpa was doing. "Did the gate to the field break down again?"

"Kinda. But everytime Joe uses dem gate it's so clankin' loud my ears hurt! Imma trying to fix this motor for the gate anyhow." He returned with a clapper in his mouth.

Rocky gestured with his paw. "Let me help Grandpa. I even got my pup pack here. It'll make it easier."

"Oh no! Imma good. Aah might be old, and mah skills are still sharp as a knife. Plus it ain't complicated! Justa electro-hydraulic that's been fuzzy."

Rocky frowned a bit. "Grandpa, you should switch to an electromechanical. The electro-hydraulic is prone to oil leaks on the pump."

Old Gizmo cracked his jaw. "Maaaah, nonsense. It's still good."

"And where are your glasses?"

"Why does everyone kept tellin' me that? Like Aah said, Aah don't need em'. And they look stupid. Imma dog for dog's sake!"

"But Ryder bought and customize them for you Grandpa! Should ya at least try to wear them?" Rocky emphasized.

"How's dem Ryder anyway? And yur…" he waggled his paw around. "P.A.W. Parole?"

"P.A.W. Patrol Grandpa, and don't change the subject!"

"Even so Rocky pup, how in tarnation Imma goin' put mah mask on with the glasses underneath?" Without a second to waste –"Imma young as a baby blue bird born in spring. Aah can do it!" He flicked his mask down and pressed the button on the device to test its efficiency.

Nails suddenly flung out, and Rocky ducked behind some scrap metal pile near him, yelping as he heard them shoot out like little pellets. One of their targets hit back into Old Gizmo's mask hard, and finally, the device ceased moving, crinkling loudly in the shed.

"…."

The mask sprung open again.

"Okay. Ya can help."

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If Zuma had to be honest, he enjoyed spending time with the pups.

"Hey! No fair!"

"That's my princess cowboy hat! You get the old em'!"

"B-But Scout –"

"This one is mine Ash. It's pwetty like me! Just take Ziggy's."

"I don't wanna use the burnt one! He always burns it! He's gonna burn my head off! And look, he's trya' burn it now!"

"Well too bad."

He sweatdropped. Well, most of the time. To be fair, he didn't have any siblings, so this was always an unusual experience. He wondered how Rocky was able to deal with these ruggrats, cause heck, Rocky could barely deal with him (and it always humored the lab).

However, as he was being used as a puppy cushion to their own fun, Zuma's hazel eyes suddenly noted a large body of fur curled up on the farmhouse porch.

And a cat's tail silently swayed down.

Scout probably noticed Zuma's distraction, and she too looked afar. Without a thought she exclaimed, "Nibbles!"

That grabbed the attention of her brothers.

"Nibbles!" the triplets almost blitzed to the animal in question, but the cat didn't stir. Zuma eventually followed them behind, standing beside them as they surrounded the cat.

Ash shouted, "W-Wocky's back Nibbles!"

Ziggy nodded vigorously.

"He even brought Zuma!" Scout added in happily.

The cat stretched his arms lethargically, and the triplets watched him in waiting, expecting an answer.

"Oh, Rocky's back?" The American Wirehair cat finally said lazily, not even moving from his spot and barely lifting his head. His fur was a mixture of orange, brown and white, his face crowning mostly the snowy colour. He noted the fourth pup beside them. "And it looks like he brought the loud one again. Oh joy."

Zuma laughed. "Heeey, it's grumpy cat!"

Frown. "I am not grumpy." the feline grumbled, "Don't mix me up with that disgrace of the cat!"

"Hey, at least he's famous for being grumpy. You're just cwabby." Zuma snickered to himself. "Maybe that's what they should've called you instead of Nibbles."

The younger pups laughed, and Nibbles glared even harder.

"Zuma!" Rocky interjected suddenly, making his way to the group.

He turned back, not missing a beat. "Whut?"

"Can you like, uh stop teasing him?"

"But Wocky dude…" he groaned, not looking at all remorseful. "It's fun…"

"Don't care if it's fun." Rocky said. "He's sleeping. We shouldn't be bothering him." The pup then smiled regrettably. "Sorry about that Nibbles."

"Hm. At least you're sensible enough to know not to bother me." The cat stretched his body. With a jiggle of his stomach, the animal sautéed into the house through the kitty door.

"…I don't get how he can still fit through that door." He said bluntly.

"Z-Zuma!"

"What? Just calling it like it is." He voiced. "Or how he's the only cat I know that can talk to us. How does he even do that?"

"No one knows. I think Grandpa does, but he gets distracted and talks about something else."

"And speaking of dogs," Zuma tilted his head in inquiry. "Where's Old Gizmo?"

"Grandpa just went to the bathroom. I convinced him to take a break from working. He's too stubborn he didn't even want to stop."

"A bweak?" Zuma shook his head. "Dude, you don't even take bweaks when you're in your "building mode". I have to drag you away from your little workshop back at the Lookout, and I bet it's the same here."

"Uhhh, that's not true."

"It's true." The triplets unified. Zuma was smug at their cooperation.

Rocky felt his face heat up. "Eh, s-so what if I don't take breaks? It's just…um, good work ethic!"

"Well Aah think it's a great trait ta have Rocky." Mrs. McKay came back out on the porch. She smiled at the sight of the yard's condition. "Ah, look at that! Ya pups cleaned good."

The triplets wagged their tails. "Can ya play now Wocky?" Ash asked shyly.

"Yeah Rocky!" Scout pouted. "You promised!"

"Um, I wanted to go the garden first, a-and Mama Fran probably needs help in the kitchen –"

"No dude." Zuma shook his head. "Go, have fun. I'll help her out."

Rocky blinked. "Eh? But I can't make you –"

"It's fine! Look, you need to hang with your siblings. They're itching to play with you. Or little Ziggy dude is gonna light something on fire again."

"Oh, um okay…" realizing the oddness and danger of his younger brother's habit, he agreed to the offer as he smiled warmly at his friend. "Ah, Thanks Zuma. Really. But just let me know if you need – woah!" His siblings suddenly dragged him to the yard, away from the porch's steps. If the mechanic pup was trying to say anything their voices drowned his voice as they shouted the various games they could play with their big brother.

"So Mrs. McKay," Zuma brought up, "Whadda need help on?"

"Aah need help setting up the table, but we can do that a bit later. Lunch ain't even half-way done." Mrs. McKay quietly sat down beside the sea rescue pup, and after the silence of them breathing in the country air, she sighed contently.

"It's funny how much they're all so different," Zuma said, watching Rocky interacting with his siblings.

"Oh, Aah can vouch for that. But they're all like their parents. They all got a piece of em' in there."

"How so?"

"Well…" she tapped her chin. "They all got em' traits. Like for example, Ash is a nervous pup, but he loves gardening, and learning about em' different things bout' nature. Just like my Buttercup."

That name rekindled a memory. "…She was Wocky's mom right?"

"Righty. Aah had her for nine years."

"Then what about his dad?"

"Well, he was mah husband's dog. From what Aah remember, eight."

"He was younger?"

"Well, not exactly…." She smiled softly at Zuma, an expression that rarely crossed her face. "Wanna know?"

"Wanna know what?"

"About em'."

That caught him off guard, blinking. "Worky's folks?"

"Yeah. Or has Rocky talked about them with ya?"

He scrunched his brows in thought. "Uh, he kinda does. Like I sorta know what happened..." He then shrugged half-heartedly. "But he mostly talks you, Mr. McKay, Old Gimzo or the triplets. He's a worrywart about you guys."

"That's Rocky alright…" Fran breathlessly replied. "We worry about him too here. If he's eatin' properly, not staying in his workshop days at em' time."

"Don't worry. I drag him out when it hits a day."

"Imma glad." She chuckled quietly. Her eyes were shoring softly, as if she was getting lost in memory. It was an odd sight.

"Mrs. McKay,"

"Hm?"

It's…not a problem right?" He said, trying to seem as casual about it. "Like, their story, if it's cool with you. Cause if it ain't okay–"

"It ain't a problem at all Zuma!" Fran placed a hand on her chest. "It was meh who was asking ya."

"Askin' whut?" a raspy male voice questioned, and the two noticed Old Gizmo walking towards them.

"Eh, Old Gizmo!" Zuma grinned. "What's up?"

The deranged dog grunted a sharp laugh. "Ha! Old as ever apparently! Rocky thinks Aah need em' break from work." He then yelled to his grand-pups in the courtyard. "See here Rocky pup?! Imma out of the shed for once!"

"Where are your glasses then?!" Was the answer back.

Old Gimzo waved his paw away.

"Grandpa!" the tripets yelped, noticing their ever busy elder out in public. "You're gonna play with us too?!"

"In a bit mah little pups!" He responded, and after a cough to clear his throat, he climbed up the steps of the pooch.

"Now, what tis that yur blabbing about that's making ya look so melancholy?"

"Imma gonna tell Zuma about Buttercup and Hunter."

"Buttercup n' Hunter?!"

The yell was so loud it immediately grabbed the attention of the mixed breed pups in the courtyard.

Old Gizmo shook his head. "That ain't something to be sad about Fran! And with the stories Aah have bout em', it's more than enough to put a smile on anyone's face." With a huff he sat down and yelled, "Pups! Imma telling of yur parents! Ya'll should come and here this!"

The threesome wandered to their elder, with Rocky lingering behind.

"Grandpa wants to tell the story about mommy and daddy?" Scout questioned.

Right ya are pups!" Old Gizmo looked very proud about that fact. "Aah know so much, Imma walking history book! Aah know exactly how yur parents were like."

At that, the pups' eyes were wide in eagerness, and they immediately sat down, tails wagging.

"Ya joining us Rocky too pup?!" The senior called, noticing his elder grand-pup standing warily from the group.

"Um," he tired to smile. "Sure. I'll sit in. But... uh, I think I know everything about them already."

"Even… how they met?" Mrs. McKay added lightly.

Rocky's eyes broadened, suddenly caught by the tongue. "Um…not the entire story–"

"Exactly!" Old Gizmo exclaimed. "Let yur grandpa tell the tale. Yer know Imma best at storytelling."

Rocky looked on worriedly to his owner, but with a wink and whisper she said, "I'll correct him if it's off."

Old Gizmo spat on the ground, (an occasional habit of his) and he cleared his throat harshly. And with all eyes on him, he was ready to began. "Now…Aah remember back when Hunter was a silly little pup, just learning to walk –"

"Uh, I think that's too far back Grandpa."

"Heh?"

Mrs. McKay laughed. "It's the story how Hunter and Buttercup met Old Gizmo."

"Oh! Why no one tell meh?!" – Rocky rolled his eyes – "Alright, let meh think. Ah-ha! Now Aah remember!"

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It was probably creaking into early afternoon, the sun hitting high upon the small town of Orchard Fair Oaks. It was a farmer's town, and all those who lived had family businesses passed on for generations. It was quiet, surely more peaceful and vintage looking comparing to their distant sister towns of Adventure Bay and FoggyBottom.

However, on this particular day, it was not the case.

Orchard Fair Oaks had an annual fair, and it was customary for the local farms and businesses to go and participate in the event, in terms of selling their products and for the townsfolks to have fun.

And in the midst of the fair, with rolling crowds and laughter, there was a large wool stand belonging to the McKays.

"Hunter!" A Border Collie [1] called gruffly, eyeing the field with securitizing eyes. Unfortunately, he didn't smell nor hear the one he was calling. With a grand sigh, the dog glanced up at his owner, Joe McKay.

"Sorry about this." He frowned, shaking his head. "He's grown but Hunter still acting like he a pup."

Joe grunted. He was a middle-aged man, a long face and gray hair that stuck out from under his flat cap. He often bore tweed-textured clothing with rain boots and a walking stick, and today was no different in attire.

"He's young Gizmo." He lamented at his friend. "He ain't no different from ya or Aah when we were in our prime."

Gizmo snorted. At the time, the Boarder Collie wasn't called Old Gizmo. In his youth, the dog was simply known as Gizmo. His fur was once again full and plush of distinctive white-grey colours.

"Aah know, but he's running 'round doing dog knows what while we working! He doesn't do much of that. At least your kids did somethin' useful."

Joe rolled his eyes. As if his own adult children were any better. "Imma gonna check the truck. Guard the stand Gizmo."

"Rightly." The dog huffed, having the urge to munch on a grain piece in his mouth. He idly glanced to the stand, almost entirely set up for the fair to sell the sheep wool made right from the farm. Now they all need to get these boxes unpacked and brought by a certain Border Collie…

"Did someone call me?" A voice spoke from behind.

Gizmo almost jumped right out of his fur, turning swiftly around to eye the caller with a scowl.

"Hunter!" the said dog laughed, and Gizmo glowered even more. He eyed the other canine particularly.

A friendly smile was on his muzzle. "Ya pops?"

"Don't 'ya pops' meh pup!" Gizmo was crossed, "Where were yah just now?"

"Helping 'round." He said honestly, and he then pulled a box of wool with his teeth. "Mrs. Wilson needed a dog to help her carry some veggie ta her car."

"Hmph. Coulda told meh that."

Hunter rolled his eyes in good humour. He, just like his dad, sported white and grey fur. However, the grey could have easily been mistaken as a black, as it was so dark, almost like charcoal.

"Pup!" he called, "Come help meh bring this up for Joe."

"Why ya always call meh pup?" Hunter asked with a pout as he followed the older Border Collie. "Ya know I'm not one anymore."

"Yeah, well when yah stop acting like one and start taking scrapin' seriously," Gizmo pushed a box with his paws, "I'll believe yah."

"Eh, Sorry?"

Gizmo snorted. "Yah annoy meh."

"Hey, I don't annoy ya when I fixed Papa Joe's engine when ya were away." He replied. "Even Papa Joe didn't realize the sparkplug was outta loop from the cylinder head."

"Ya just proved mah point Hunter. Yah have all this knowledge, and Aah know ya, yur more than capable of fixin' an engine with yur eyes closed! Yet, ya don't do anythin' with it. Yah don't even build stuff with meh anymore!"

Hunter shrugged. "Nuthins' grabbed my attention yet."

"Whut? Yah need a sign?"

"Uh..." His grin turned weak. "Maybe?"

"Maybe mah tail!" he bellowed, green eyes piercing to his son, "How bout next time when Imma in the shed, yah drag yur tail and actually build somethin' till the end and nawt stop halfway?"

"It's not like I don't like it pops," he replied, "It's just…dunno, Imma busy on other things."

"Like?"

"Like –"

"Fiddlesticks!" Both Border Collies turned to the attention of their owner, who's hat was suddenly lifted by strong winds, being carried away across the fair grounds.

Before Gizmo could begin to move, his son sprinted right past him. "Tell Papa Joe I got it!"

The crowds were coming in, and Hunter had to navigate through the people, trying to keep his eyes on the floating cap. It then seemed ready to land on someone's stand.

Hunter pushed himself through, finally breaking from the crowd, ready to grab it…

But he froze.

A few feet away, at a booth that was surrounded by flowers and plants alike, was a small to medium white fur dog. Her ears were pointed up, and fur white as the frosty snow on a country winter morning.

The hat, which momentarily was forgotten, landed in front of this mystery dog, creating a puff of air of some fallen flower petals to fly back up, landing on the small dog.

And…wow, she was beautiful.

Of course, she hadn't noticed him, as it seemed she was busy helping out her booth, but Hunter was in a daze, almost spellbound by this beauty.

His legs suddenly took him to her.

He carefully approached the stand, and she was so focused on the task at paw she didn't even notice his slightly larger appearance coming behind.

He didn't think twice. "Howdy!"

The dog jumped at the sound of his voice, and it was obvious she was beyond petrified, almost stumbling back and falling down. Thankfully, that wasn't the case, as she gripped on the grass, keeping herself stable.

"Uh," he itched his head, "Sorry bout that. Didn't mean to scare ya."

She took her guard down, and her eyes – woah, they were auburn – were watching him curiously.

Suddenly, and quiet unexpectedly, Hunter felt awkward. Usually, words were something easy for him to fly by his mouth, and he could easily converse with anyone that came about his path.

However, with this new dog in front of him, it was like his tongue was pulled outta him.

And what was probably making it worse was that she hadn't uttered a word to him.

"So…" he tried to look at her eyes, but he couldn't make himself to do so. "Howdy, again, but I, uh, wanted to introduce myself. I'm Hunter."

She glanced to her paws.

Dread came upon him, and he felt sweat beading on his head. Quick, Hunter, think!

"Y-Ya…live 'round here?"

She shook her head.

"Aah, makes sense." He rumbled out a nervous laugh, "Cause I would be pretty sure I woulda recognized ya face."

She visibly stiffened, and his ears had the urge to flap down, thinking he made a mistake. "Like, it ain't bad!" he quickly added in. "It's…good! Like real good. Cause, I don't know, ya seem like a nice gal." Gosh he felt himself sink into a deeper hole, especially how she continued to look away.

Wait, why was he here again? He blinked. Oooh, right!

"Ah!" his eyes flickered up in realization. "I need ta ask, but did ya happen to see a hat fly 'round here? It's like a cap hat, brown, kinda old."

She began looking around, as if he knew what he was talking about, and she quietly grabbed the fallen hat that resided across the booth. She lifted her paw to him.

"Here." She whispered.

To that, his heart began thumping loudly, and he felt a huge lump in his throat as he gulped his anticipation. Oh biscuit her voice…

…It… was sweet as golden honey.

"Thank you." He replied, taking the item and being careful to not graze his paw with hers. Once that was done, he gestured a farewell.

"Uh, bye. I'll…see ya 'round." He jogged back. Counting seconds, he reluctantly decided to look back, and there it was, those auburn eyes of hers watching him leave attentively.

He spun his head back, cheeks blushing red.

Gosh darn nit! I probably looked like a fool! Who in tarnation says howdy anymore? He groaned. Imma blame pops for this.

Hunter returned to working at the stand, but ever so often, his green eyes would flicker to the flower shop across. She never crossed eye direction, and he was mighty glad she didn't, otherwise he might have died of embarrassment. Plus, the crowds created a perfect diversion for him to peak once in awhile.

He realized she had an owner who looked around Papa Joe's age, just shorter and uh...curvier. She, however, was the complete contrast of the shy dog he just spoke too mere hours ago. She was loud, demanding, but she was friendly. Anyone who came near the booth the human lady walked right up to them and took them by the arm, showcasing her flowers.

"Okay," Joe stood back up, finishing up a transaction. Gizmo looked on attentively to his owner. "Now that it ain't as busy now, can one of ya'll take the wrench to Mr. Sampson? His booth is near a flower one Aah think - "

"I'll go!"

"Oh shucks, thanks Hunter." Joe smiled, obvious to his younger dog's motives. "If ya want to wander the fair, ya can for a bit too. I'll call ya when we need ya."

Hunter nodded. With the item in his mouth he sprinted off, taking it to the other middle-aged man.

When he finally did his deed, Hunter boldly turned his body back to that flower stand, and this time, the white little dog noticed him, her ears twitching slightly.

"Uh," he smiled kindly, "hi again."

She ducked her head down. "Hi." She...responded? Ah, it must mean it's a good sign.

He cleared his throat. "I just wanted to come by and...chat. Like, a better chat. I probably came off weird earlier huh? Scaring ya?" He laughed at himself, attempting to ease the tension.

She shrugged.

"You're...a terrier Imma guessing?"

"...Highland terrier." she murmured. [2]

"Cool." he agreed, and then his mind began thinking on it's own.

"So, uh flowers?" Gosh he wanted to smack his head at his obvious observation. "Did ya guys always sell them?"

She nodded.

"That's cool ya owner does this flower business. Funny enough, I'm surprised they ain't more shops 'round here." Huh, that was true. There wern't more. Made him wonder why.

Having nothing left to say but determined to continue the conversation, he let his eyes wander around the booth. "Never really noticed this, but it looks like ya carry every flower under the sun!" Yeah, it was very much true. The booth was littered with flowers. He pointed to a bussle across. "These roses are like pink, red, white! Real pretty. Like the sunsets we get here sometimes."

"..."

"And I've never seen sunflowers this big. Like, I know they grow big, but not this size."

"It's a Daisy."

He turned around. "Cuse me?"

"A Daisy." She repeated. She nervously glanced up at him before focusing her attention on the flowers again. "Their real name is the Gloriosa Daisy. They look like Sunflowers, cause they grow really tall, but an easy way to tell the difference is the inside of the petals are more orange. Sunflowers are only a pure yellow hue."

"Woah…" he commented, and his mouth tugged upwards into a bright smile. "I didn't know that!"

She meekly nodded to his word, but before she could continue on, she heard him laugh.

The Highland Terrier had a puzzled look. "What's so funny?"

"It's just…" he shook his head, "I think that was the first time you spoke to meh. Had me worried ya didn't like me much. Or I was annoying."

"You're not annoying."

He stared back at her, surprised at her immediate answer.

It was then her cheeks turned pink. "W-Wait, not like that. Like, ah, it's just…I don't talk to other dogs often. I'm not very...sociable."

"Haha, same here."

She blinked dumbly.

It was then Hunter smiled reassuringly. "Like, I'm always working on the farm, or helpin' someone out, so I don't go out much." He continued on with the question he was desperate to ask all day. "…So what's yur name, if I might ask?"

And for the first time all day, she stared straight into his eyes.

"…Buttercup."

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.

.

As the fair was a three-day event, it gave plenty of opportunities for Hunter to try to talk to Buttercup. Literally, any spare moment he was able to leave his family's stand, the Border Collie would stride right up to that flower stand and spend time with her. It was mighty hard he might add, as she barely uttered a word to him, but the only time she really begun to interact was when she taught him about the different flowers at the stand, which was a welcomed surprise.

Now, Hunter wasn't that interested in flowers or really how they worked, but they way she explained it, and how her eyes shorn in soft delight when speaking about it… it made him want to know more, to know every kind of flower that roamed this god given earth.

He continuously asked questions, (as he was beginning to be genuinely curious about them) and she answered politely, and through their conversations, he noticed a lack of an accent in her voice. Surely she wasn't a country pup. Maybe a townie then.

He dismissed the thought though. Didn't matter one bit.

It was when the third day he tried to build up the courage to ask her out, but it seemed everything was preventing him so. He always set up the question, but she never got it, resulting him to clumsily pretend it was something else he was talking about, or her owner would ask Buttercup to get her some type of flower from the stand, leaving him to stand awkwardly. It also made it worse that she was especially quiet today, even reluctant to speak about the plants he assumed she loved.

Gosh, he could hear his pops now, laughing at his efforts.

The day was almost done, and clean up was to be ensured on the fair grounds. For Hunter's case, he couldn't remain at the stand that much, as he heard his father's bark in the fair distance, demanding he coming back.

"It was nice meeting ya Buttercup!" he smiled brilliantly, trying to push the thought that this was the last time he would ever see her again. "Hopefully we can chat up more the next time ya come to the fair next year. It was amazing to spend time with someone as sweet as ya."

Her eyes went wide, and Hunter gulped, becoming heavily aware that he just semi-admitted his attraction to her. Even though his cheeks were dusted pink, he still remained to smile, departing from the booth while attempting to remain composed.

He hung his head low. Sweet? AmazingAmazing? He replayed what happened. Gosh, she's probably creeped out about meh. A dog she barely knows saying that bout her. Hopefully next year I can actually ask her out properly, and not be awkward around a dog like her.

Gizmo frowned at his son's somber aura as they were packing up the booth. "What's wrong with ya?"

"Nuthing pops." He replied, sighing.

"It's that dog from the flower stand ain't it?"

He didn't even try to deny it. He nodded.

"Well, sometimes things just work out slow pup!" he exclaimed, "Gosh, it ain't the end of the world."

"Maybe it is." He returned longingly.

"Oh so dramatic Hunter." He rolled his eyes. "Besides, there's other gals out there ya can meet who Imma sure they're just as sweet and wonderful and cute as that dog ya kept describing to meh."

"Yeah…" he pulled the last box with his teeth, dragging it to the truck.

"C'mon boys!" Joe yelled, readying the car. "Time to head back."

Gizmo exclaimed, "Wait Joe! There's one more."

"Hold it pops! I'll get it!" Hunter rushed back to their old spot, attempting to retrieve the last item. Just as he opened his mouth to pull the last box, his senses hitched, suddenly smelling someone's familiar scent. He peered his eyes above the box, and to his utter shock, there, sprinting, was a Highland Terrier.

"W-Wait!"

No way…

"Please wait!"

Uh, he was dreaming, right?

And sure enough, Buttercup stood before him, panting lightly from the excursion. He stood there dumbly, trying to get his mind working again.

His surprise gave Buttercup opportunity to speak. "Imma sorry to be random like this, but I…I had to come before you left."

He blinked. "Y-You did? Why?"

At that, her cheeks turned into an adorable pink. "Because I wanted to ask a question."

His heart stopped. Was she doing what he thinks she's doing…?

"I wanted ta know, l-like ah, oh shucks, Imma terrible at this..."

He couldn't help but grin warmly at her. "Ya?"

"I would like it, ah, truly, but it's totally fine with you if you don't, like absolutely…"

He waited oddly patient like.

"W-W-Would like to go on a date with meh?" she squeaked, face now blazing red, and her face staring fiercely at the ground.

It was at these moments the usually talkative dog was stunned silent at her request, ears dipping down and paws frozen on the summer grass. Watching her slightly tremble and refusing to meet his eyes, he suddenly felt relieved of her trepidation. All the signs were there. And finally when his mind started working…he knew exactly how to respond.

With a tease.

He grinned slyly, leaning a bit to her direction.

"I thought yah said yur not from the country?"

"I didn't say that." she returned, and she dared to met his eyes shyly under his gaze. "It just…comes out more when Imma nervous."

"Yur nervous?"

"Yes…" she murmured. "I was nervous all morning, because I wanted to ask ya…"

Again, shock was displayed evidently on his features. She...was nervous too? About him? And here he thought she didn't like being around him…

That's it. It was time to clear the air.

"Buttercup." He said clearly, and he swore he saw a shiver work her way up her fur.

"Y-Yes?" this time, she had the courage to face him, and she was greeted with the largest smile.

He beamed, feeling his heart flutter. "I would love ta."

.

.

.

It was learned early on that Joe and Fran dated from their youth, but have both been married, divorced, and now that they have met up once again…old feelings began to ignite once more, and they rekindled their relationship.

With the obvious circumstances, it proved easy feet for Hunter and Buttercup to become acquainted better, especially learning how Fran decided to stay in Orchard Fair Oaks to expand her floral business.

And after the first date, those two dogs stuck together like glue.

If Hunter wasn't yapping away excitedly about the times he's spent with Buttercup, it was then the Highland Terrier getting lost in thought about how kind and considerate of a dog Hunter was, cooing to herself when she thought Gizmo wasn't looking.

Gizmo shook his head at the thought of the love-struck dogs.

"Aah think yur worst than meh when Aah begun dating yur mother." He commented, seeing Hunter carefully picking out Buttercups and putting them together gently with his paws. Another date, Gizmo recalled Hunter saying.

"Well…" the younger Border Collie pulled out another wild flower, then clenching them together by the stems, "…I'm here now, no?" he winked at his father with a smile. "So Imma assuming you did something right."

Gizmo chortled. "It'll be nice too if ya had the same motivation with tinkering pup."

"In due time pops, sheesh." he laughed.

.

.

.

"Whatcha' doing?"

Buttercup lifted her eyes to her beloved. She was lying in the garden, her head peered right up to the steam of a baby shrub. It was a warm spring day, and she and Hunter were spending time at the McKay property. Fran came by with her dog to visit her boyfriend as well.

"This plant." She glanced back to her focus. "Imma trying to observe how strong it can grow in this new type of fertilizer Fran bought."

"Oh right." Hunter remembered Fran giving this whole lecture to a confused Joe about treating his plants better, even though they were perfectly healthy. Literally the next day the girls took over the little garden in the back, growing it extensively. "What's the difference?" he asked.

"Well, that's what Imma trying to figure out." She titled her head, pouting in thought. "This one contains about only 6% potassium and phosphorus acid, but the old one only had 5%. And now considering each had about 20% nitrogen, Imma curious to see if the growth rate will change drastically."

He grinned slyly at his girlfriend's knowledge. "I love it when ya talk like that."

"Oh quiet you." She pushed him lightly, giggling as she sat up. "You and your big mouth."

"Hey, it was this mouth that got ya talking to meh." He replied proudly.

"Mm. It did."

"And ya happy about that right?"

"I don't know…" she side-eyed, mocking confusion. "He does awfully talk a lot…"

"Nonsense." He waved his paw away. "I have the best conversations. Everyone loves hearing me speak."

"Your father doesn't say that." she replied with another light laugh.

"Meh, who cares what he thinks! He's just a cranky dog, and even then, I always have a way to get the final word."

"Ya do?"

"Course love! I've been doin' this for years. How ya think I get to bother Nibbles so much as a pup?"

She pouted. "Ya really shouldn't tease him Hunter. He doesn't seem like the type to take ya words kindly."

"Buttercup, that ain't true! He loves it. Besides, when he looks angry, that means he likes ya."

"Or that he's actually angry." She quipped. "Oh, you've never told me where he came from."

"Beats meh. He was here before I was even born. I think Papa Joe picked him up somewhere, but that's all I know. Like, he's supposed to catch em' mice 'round the farm, but I don't know if he even does that. He's fat."

"Hunter!"

"It's true love, and ya know it."

"Oh…but still…" she mumbled, "You don't have to say it so bluntly…"

"Since when do I ever beat around the bush?" he then wiggled his brows in her direction. "Especially when it's concerning ya?"

She blushed. "Never."

"Exactly." He looked proud once more. "I told ya, Imma master when it comes to words! And trust me, with a dog like mah father, I've mastered the way – "

She kissed him. It was tender and sweet, lasting a few moments, and when she pulled back, the poor dog's face was flushing red, mouth gaping open with nothing to say.

"Hehe, I think found one way." She commented idly with a blush of her own, and she returned to analyzing the garden.

.

.

.

"Well, wasn't that a nifty wedding?"

Hunter nodded, eying both his current and new owner sealing a kiss under the alter. It was a quiet wedding, with a few so dozen people from the town and family coming down. The outdoor reception was decorated with flowers of all kinds, selected by Buttercup of course.

There was cheering, and beside the human bride, was the Highland Terrier, happily cooing about her owner getting remarried. As usual, Buttercup was a vision of itself, with some flowers on her own head. It made Hunter feel so light-hearted as he eyed his beauty.

"So yur hoping to marre' her next huh?"

That snapped the Border Collie out of his thoughts. He spun his head around.

"Don't give meh that confused look Hunter. I'm nawt stupid." A soft look came upon Gizmo's face. "Ya have that look in yur eye. It's the same one Aah had with yur ma, all those years ago."

"And…that's good Imma hoping?"

"Well, good enough they'll say ya." Hunter paled, and Gizmo slapped his son's back. "Relax mah son! Shucks, you acting like the poor girl is gonna say no."

"But you're making meh panic if she will." He retorted nervously.

"Hey, she could."

"Pops!"

The dog began cracking up. "Ehhh, tell me as soon as ya pop the question. Might as well keep this bow tie on."

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.

.

A/N: Dunno why but alot of people think I'm a dude. XD Maybe it's my speech, but yes folks I'm a girl.

Also, real sorry I couldn't keep up with the update list! It's hard. I was really sick and I had no motivation to do anything. I laid in my bed like a lump, and now that I'm entering final year and interning at a magazine, it's gonna be even harder to update consistently.

But that note aside…how's this shaping up to be guys? This took awhile because they chapter could have gone in so many directions, so a lot of editing was needed for this. I wanted to do something different for Rocky cause we haven't really gotten any stories on the pups' parents yet, and or even how they become a couple (granted, the only set of parents I've formally introduced so far is Marshall's but that's beside the point). I knew I wouldn't really have another opportunity in the series to address Rocky's parents love story so I was like might as well add it in lol. And I hope the southern accents aren't too difficult to read.

So...I hope you like Rocky's family so far! They are actually so fun to write for. Guess my question would be is who's your fav from his family?

[1] – Yes, after intense research I've concluded that Rocky's father and grandfather are Border Collies. They are actually the most intelligent dog breed, (followed by German Shepherd and Poodles). I thought it was fitting for Rocky, as he is the smartest in the P.A.W. Patrol.

[2] – Rocky's mother is a White Highland Terrier. Funny enough, they are the type of dogs to be in the wilderness and like to explore nature, often finding insects and retrieving things. So yes guys, Rocky's breed in my universe is a Border Collie-Terrier Mix. And NO Buttercup ain't Sweetie. They just happen to be the same breed.

COMMENTS

liverskins32 - aww I appreciate it! and haha I can't wait either! The plan I have for those two...it's a crazy ride let's just say.

Deathruler82 - once a month I'm hoping.

Gracekin1 – thanks hun! I felt there was a lack of origin stories about the pups, so here I am.

JetSet1980 – more of that would be covered next chapter!

RubbleOnTheDouble – judging by your name, I thought it'll be Rubble!

Guest – Haha thank you :3

R.L. Chathouse – lol I'll forever have a heart of a child. I just love creating narratives that use animation. And I agree. I don't watch the show anymore, but I still look at it fondly, mostly cause it was a show I enjoyed and was curious about (Like c'mon, dogs at work with their little individual jobs? I loved it!)

And Aww! That's very sweet! I would love to have creative input over the series. I feel even though it could never go as dark as how I'm writing, maybe take elements (like anxiety, bullying, lost etc) and make in a way that children would understand and see in their own lives, especially concerning family problems. I'm hoping I'll eventually draw out a comic for one of the backstories.

Funny enough, I know someone who knew people from the company that animates P.A.W. Patrol. So ya. Maybe X)

marcogalmich - oh damn, I'm making ya cry again?! I'm on a roll with the feels. And unfortunately, Skye's gonna face even more obstacles along the way, especially considering her status and who her family is (especially her parents, who we have yet to met!)

desgarbiuz - ¡Gracias! Estoy feliz que te guste me nuevo nombre. Y si envíame una PM en la historia tu querio que lea.

Guest – in this fic no main couples will be fully established, as these are backstories. However ships that I support is ChasexSkye and MarshallxEverest (Doesn't mean it'll guarantee they'll get together though bwahaha)

Ace the new pup – haha not really a fight, more so a heated argument. But happy you liked it! And don't worry, your writing skills are improving a lot!

Guest – me either!

Zuma lover – all these questions are answered above!

Daisy Rhine – glad you liked it!

mdmpinkie9088 – before IBG (insanityisablessedgift) I was WtS (WingsThroughSkies) I guess the change is that I wanted to create a name that has better fluidly and recognition for my presence in the internet, especially since I'm building up my deviantart. The other reason was that the last two names were way too long.

Haha, Ryder's arc will eventually come! Scenes I wrote for Marshall but didn't get chosen for the final cut will be in Ryder's, so I already have a good chunk to work off.

And you're not silly! You read between the lines, and go beyond what's presented to you! You're damn smart. That's what writers want from readers.

Skye is very different from Marshall and Chase. While she might face social pressure, she is not facing life or death, or being constantly ridiculed. Everyone pretty much praised her (hence why she accepts compliments so easily, something I noticed from the show). Hmm…and excellent point you got there. If Sophie wasn't so nice, Skye would've stayed, and then possibly meet the P.A.W. Patrol when they're much older…BUT that's an alternative story haha.

And yes, Chase's smile. I was grinning myself when writing it. They're just so opposite, ya know? I feel like my version of Chase is much colder and mature than the OG version, but I think it still correlates to his no-nonsense personality the show emphasizes.

enfreakmoron – Aww glad you liked that line! It shows the development I plan to have for those two. And lol YEEES the ship train everyone! Party up with dem feels X)

Thank you to all those who continuously read, comment and follow my work! (critique/suggestions are welcomed!) ^_^

P.S REVIEW!

Till next time,

mokocchii