#I have a trauma with mesh fences

[squeezebox0]

After:

Before:

It's been a while since I posted anything but I couldn't let THAT DRAWING go by any longer and not do anything about it. Honestly, I'm surprised at how confident I was when I posted it, so I redrew it.

[karlachismylife]

Local Spot || The Queen of the Clan pt.6

CW: fem!chubby!reader, some tame unwanted attention.

If not for man-made structures, you wouldn’t be able to tell the border between the territory of the natural reserve you got your filming permit for and the sanctuary that cuts off a smaller part of the landscape. Fenced off, it looks just the same – no surprise there, to be honest; sunlit tall grass, sandy and dusty ground and scattered trees, shielding the inhabitants with their shadow. No doubt, they have water sources too – everything in sanctuary’s power to tend to quite simple needs of animals that can’t be let out back into the wild after surviving each their own trauma. Driving past the tall mesh that makes sunbeams ripple when hitting your little Rover caravan, you try covering your eyes to look into the reserve, but no animals come close to the road, hidden securely somewhere deep in their new forever home.

“I hope you’re prepared to be blown away by the luxurious housing, we’re working our asses off to impress city cookies like you here.” With a distinct chuckle, Kir beckons you inside, holding a simple plywood door open for you and dropping your backpack from his shoulder on the porch of the little cabin – a whole line of them drags along a narrow road, animals’ enclosures basically on the other side of the “street”. Land too expensive, government too hesitant to “lose” everything it could provide by leaving it as untouched reserve; thus, someone had to make room for their neighbours, and humans decided to sacrifice their own comfort for the sake of the animals.

“Check this out,” Kir waits until you finish looking around the single room that serves as bedroom, living room, office – even a kitchen, if you can count the tiny portable stove and a kettle on a counter – and with a theatric gesture of a magician opens a narrow door, revealing the tiniest bathroom behind it: a toilet, a small sink hanging off a wall and just a cheap curtain to separate the shower area with a drain in  the floor. “Not bad, huh? No hot tub, but pretty close. Don’t recommend you putting candles and champagne there, though, if you even mange to find those around here somehow…” Laughing with you at the deeply impressed and amazed expression you feigned at the sight of your lavish bathroom, Kir raises a finger calling for your attention once more and then struggles with the sink tap for a moment, finally getting it to sneeze and run clean water. “Actually working plumbing. You feeling like a queen yet?”

“Grandiose, brother,” you snort and come closer to hold a handful under the stream, gathering slightly warm water and using it to wipe sweat from your face and neck. “But no, really, don’t think there’s much more I could need, so this is perfect. You’re my neighbour or what?”

“I’m just three cabins away, door’s always open for you.” Having closed the tap, Kir shuffles his way out of the cramped space and leaves your cabin, hands in his pockets. Remembering something, he turns on his heels and nods at your backpack. “Laundry’s in the main building, there are bags to separate yours, it’s all done together in the mornings so it’s best to leave yours in the evening. Oh, and I’ll ask around about something to get rid of the stink.”

With a dazzling grin and a wink, Kir salutes you and finally turns his back, returning to work and leaving you to sort through your belongings and settle in. If everything goes well, you’ll spend just a few days here before the head of your crew successfully prolongs the filming permit and you head out into the savannah once more. Having this bureaucratic delay doesn’t feel good, but in a weird way you feel relieved.

You don’t think you would be able to leave this place without a heavy heart if the shoot lasted just three weeks like planned initially.

Settling on the top step of your low porch, you pull your backpack closer and hold your breath instinctively, even though a week in the wild has somewhat tamed the stink. It’s not strong per se, but it has a stinging undertone of concentrated boiled soap, to the point where it almost tastes sweet on the back of your mouth roof. Scoffing, you pull your belongings out of it, throwing crinkled plastic bags onto the floor behind you.

Finally reaching the one with dirty laundry inside, you grab it along with the empty backpack itself and make your way all the way to the main building, quick to find the laundry room – just as tiny as everything else. You empty your crumpled laundry into a nice canvas bag and write down the slightly scraped off number on it to know which one to pick up later, and then drop off the backpack in the corner, only just noticing teeth marks on it in several places – a chewed up strap mostly.

Somehow you don’t even doubt it was all Stinky’s doing.

“Adorable bastard,” you grumble under your breath and nearly ram into Kir’s firm chest at the door, too distracted with thoughts of your spotted acquaintance trotting around somewhere in the yellowish grass of the savannah.

“You called?” He laughs watching you roll your eyes and squeezes past you with a pat on your shoulder, a spray bottle of some kind in his hands along with his own laundry. “It’s for your aromatherapy backpack. If you want, you can spray it yourself, I’ll finish my shift sooner and we’ll hit the town. Bet you didn’t get a good look around when you arrived, yeah?”

Only fair for you to deal with your stink problem yourself, Kir already went above and beyond to help you, so you take the spray from his hand and return to the corner to drag your backpack outside, humming in response.

“No, they picked us up pretty quickly… only saw the bus station basically.” You shake the rattling bottle and make a trial spray, high-pressure mist with another harsh, sweet smell – most similar to a mosquito repellent – bursting into the air. The sticker on the can reads as some water- and sweat-repellent for shoes. “Anything interesting to see?”

The spray hisses, covering your backpack in a generous cloud of chemical smell and slight plastic-y glint after it settles. From inside the laundry room Kir raises his voice, admitting that there’s basically nothing except a couple stores and a dingy bar that can be of interest – it’s still worth it, you decide: just fifteen minutes of scootering down a bumpy dirt road and you get to buy something to treat yourself after a week on canned food and maybe even get a drink.

“I’ll come knock on your door then after I finish, then.” Kir leaves the laundry room and catches the spray can you throw him – if your watering eyes and coughing are any indicators, you’ve applied more then enough. Hanging the backpack outside to let it air out the possibly deadly concoction of sweat repellent and hyena sprayings, you finally drag yourself to your cabin.

A cool shower and a little bit of gentle persuasion via banging on the kettle stand until the loose contact clicks and the heating starts, you settle on your porch with your thermos and breathe in deeply. Nothing disturbs you, the feeling of being watched forgotten like it wasn’t even there. Must have really been the savannah getting in your head..

Sun is slowly sliding to the west, still high, but already a bit dimmed and oranged by the incoming dusk. Dry, clear air is rippling and throbbing above the ground, cooling off, weak wind snaking through the dust of the little road. Crickets and cicadas are chirping repetitively, like an ancient ethnic instrument from the good old times when music had more rhythm than melody. From your steps, you can’t make out which direction the call comes from, but somewhere on the sanctuary’s territory roars a buffalo – must be that young bull Kir told you to be careful around.

Two of the sanctuary employees walk past you, dirty gloves and sweaty noses – they smile and nod at you, barely interrupting a lively discussion, something about water going green in one of the biggest water sources. That’s not good, you think, but they don’t look particularly worried. More like confident.

Like they know what they’re doing and why.

Closing your eyes, you take another deep breath and sip your tea, careful not to burn your mouth. Red and pink prints of the vascular system in your eyelids mix with the way you already saw sky go up in flames at sunsets here, a peaceful feeling washing over you. There’s serenity in the way life flows measuredly around here, clocks and calendars slowly growing meaningless in the face of greater time countdown – seasons and solar cycles dictating times to migrate, to hunt, to procreate. People here made the decision to tie their lives to the nature, preserving and studying, and thus their time obeys the same laws, no hectic anxiety of semesters, quarter reports and tight schedules keeping them in a never-ending race.

It’s a blessing – to do the right thing with a reasonable pace, day after day, knowing you have something meaningful to do every time you wake up. In the outside world no one thinks highly of someone digging elbow-deep into the green mud of a small pond antelopes come to drink from, but here it matters.

You’d like to matter.

“Thinking of me with that smile on your face, I hope?” Kir’s cheeky voice drives you out of the meditative headspace and you open your eyes lazily, wrinkling your nose at him – he even made sure to approach you in a way that wouldn’t obstruct the softened sunrays caressing your face.

“Yeah, you wish. We’re going already?” With a grunt, you raise to your feet with his assistance, noticing just how long you must’ve been sitting there, daydreaming. Kir nods and plops a helmet on your head, adjusting the strap under your chin.

“Shopping first, then the bar?” He leads you to the several scooters in sanctuary’s possession, rolling the most new-looking, sandy and just slightly scraped on the wings, on the road and helping you onto it. The machine dips under your combined weight, but Kir doesn’t seem concerned, starting up the engine and driving off the sanctuary territory.

Nearby town can barely pass as one, looking more like a glorified village – small buildings, no higher than three stories, basically a single curved street between them and continuing on to the bigger road. Finally seeing it in the daylight and without the exhaustion of a long trip that kept weighing your eyelids down when you first arrived there on a bus to be picked up by your crew, you find it just as charming – as well as noticing some larger signs of civilization a couple kilometers to the west, tall power transmission poles and antennas around some fenced off facility.

While you try to remember if there was something industrial mentioned when you read about the place you were going to, Kir drags you inside a cramped convenience store, literal mountains of fresh fruits, vegetables and nuts in crates at the entrance and the most random selection of imported goods on the shelves – in a moment of weakness, you pick up some suspiciously looking lime-flavoured crisps and a few cans of cold soda from a fridge that sounds like a fighter aircraft going down from a direct hit, but still manages to keep products inside cool and wet with the condensate.

You leave the store, chewing on some dried fruits Kir helped you choose – even got a discount from a familiar cashier that was happy to inform that they can place orders for some goods if you’re planning to stay longer. Behind your cheerfully polite smile you felt that same wave of belonging that keeps coming back to you.

“We’re a bit late, so all the tables are probably taken, do you mind sitting at the bar?” After you leave your groceries in the scooter trunk, Kir leads you up to the pub, its neon sign already glowing in the slowly approaching darkness, and holds the door open, nodding at the bar counter with just three free stools to your luck.

Keeping in mind that he has “precious cargo” to deliver back, as he calls you, he orders a coke for himself and pays for your cider, promising that it’s one of the things you can actually drink there.

“That’s my favourite, the pear one. When I come here on foot, always grab a bottle or two.” You lean onto the counter, feet dangling above the dirty wooded floor, as you chat with him – he indulges you in the town gossip with some additions from the bartender, making you chuckle as the cider tickles the roof of your mouth. It’s actually good, you admit, and Kir buys you another one before leaving to the bathroom “to see if they have another spider infestation”, which earns him a shoulder slap from the bartender.

When you turn to watch him make way through packed room, you feel your heart stop for a moment, like a prey that finally notices it’s being watched. It’s a fleeting sensation that almost immediately disappears, but you almost hit yourself in the teeth with the bottle neck, once you notice them.

Four men in the furthest corner, staring at you openly – they’re not trying to be discreet, the bearded one saluting you with his whiskey tumbler and two of his buddies flashing you smiles. Friendly smiles, not the ones that make your skin crawl in similar bar encounters back in the big city. Even the one with his face covered by a mask and arms crossed over his bulky chest nods at you and sinks further in his seat, as if it could help him look smaller and less threatening. They seem chill, clearly minding their own business and avoiding the other patrons in that corner, not interested in the rowdy fun of a work day evening among tired people unwinding before heading home.

To fight that initial creeped out feeling, you nod back at them, quickly averting your gaze with a chuckle once you see them light up almost too obviously. Must’ve been ogling you for quite some time, if the smallest acknowledgement gets you such a reaction. It’s kinda sweet, their excitement radiating from the corner, and you watch from the corner of your eye them exchanging a few words before one of them has to force the big guy with a mohawk back into his seat, as if he was already ready to rush through the bar to talk to you.

“I go away for five minutes, and you’re already making eyes at someone?” Your eyes shoot up to see smiling Kir, but as you watch his expression change once he glances over his shoulder at your four watchers, your brows knit together. “Oh, no, cookie, you stay away from that folk, alright? Come on, let’s go, before they come up here.”

Before you even can object, Kir tugs on your elbow insistently, and you have no choice but to grab your almost finished bottle, say a hasty goodbye to the bartender and follow him, stumbling from the sheer force he drags you with, clearly in hurry to get out of the tightly packed bar.

“Hey, can you at least explain? I’m coming, don’t need to drag me, you know,” you try to keep your irritation down. After all, he has done nothing but look out for you, and if there’s anyone you can trust to know all locals, it’s him. Still, you steal a glance at the four-men company and get the unsettling feeling once again, this time not without a reason: the concentrated, slightly frowning looks all four of the men watch you leave with, don’t feel as friendly anymore.

It's only outside, once the night breeze strokes your heated from the alcohol and crowd proximity cheeks, that Kir lets go of your arm and sighs, putting the helmet on you. His voice sounds hushed, and he looks you dead in the eyes, as he says:

“Don’t mess with them, don’t even talk to them, okay? No one wants them here, they’re not locals. The less business we have with them, the better, especially since you’re here just temporarily. I don’t trust them, and you shouldn’t either. Can you promise?”

By the way you look at him, utterly confused, Kir finally realizes how paranoid he sounds and runs a hand over his face, before looking around and leaning to your ear to say even quieter:

“They’ve been roaming around for months already, cookie. They’re military. They’re bad news from the West.”

Suddenly, you realize what that fenced off facility you saw earlier was. A military base.

Just twenty minutes away from the natural reserve.

Part 5 | Part 6.5 | Part 7

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861 @darkangel4121 @ginger-n-coco @grey-shadow6475 @cryingpages @mothsdrabbles @mc-glare-is-king @vixxie22 @aldis-nuts @terraantarctica @henhouse-horrors @blizzivy @perfectus-in-morte @danielle143 @llavalada @yukichan67 @sleepisfortheweakpooh @ilxina @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @misscaller06 @etherealinthewoods

[mesetacadre]

Genuinely hope this won't come across as weird, but do you have any experience with your religion/upbringing being in conflict with your ML beliefs? Asking since you're from Spain so I assume it's likely that you at least had a Catholic environment growing up. Personally, my faith/upbringing is what brought me to Socialism (I don't have an in-depth theological understanding of it tbh, so it's really more that the values I was taught align the most with ML). I know that communism/materialism doesn't really mesh with religion at all (duh) but I'm still a bit on the fence of leaving my faith behind. So, do you (or an acquaintance!) have any tips on handling this? (for the record, I do form my views according to Marx/Lenin, it's just that most of my actions are motivated by faith)

Hi, this isn't weird at all

My parents did not raise me religious, they wanted for me and my sister to both decide when we were old enough, we both decided to be atheistic, and we both still live by that decision. Still, I live in the context, and the hegemony of the catholic church in Spain is pretty inescapable. What my upbringing did allow me to avoid was developing any explicitly christian beliefs, I don't have any trauma from the concept of hell, or of an omnipresent god, for example.

It's not unheard of for catholics or any other kind of denomination of christian also being communists, in fact, I have 2 or 3 mutuals here who are christian and communists, one of them catholic AFAIK. Offline, I have another comrade who is a protestant too. And from what I've talked with them, christian beliefs do generally line up with communist positions, but, and this is my opinion now, christian beliefs are extremely reliant on moral judgements, while materialism is based on objective economic and political facts. I've talked about this before, but I do think the two are compatible insofar as you don't delve too deep into actual theology.

As for being motivated by faith, what you think inside your head is only your business, no one else's. What matters, especially in political actions, are the actual, material effects of your actions. Your motivations only become a problem when they compromise the result of your actions, but they are neutral by themselves. In my own political activity in the party and union, almost all of the time I am primarily motivated by a genuine belief in what we do as a step towards our goals, but other times I do things for my own personal satisfaction. As long as my actions don't affect others or our project negatively, it does not matter a single bit why I do what I do. A caveat of course, is that, oftentimes, motivation does influence the result of your actions, but that isn't always the case. I'm sure you'll have the judgement to decide when your faith comes into conflict with your actions as a communist, if they ever do, and act accordingly :)

[deafmangoes]

Netflix's take on The Last Airbender is pretty good, actually.

Right, well, after having a good cry about shit this morning, I'm going to pen some thoughts about the new A:TLA.

T'other day I described it as just "okay" after watching the first two episodes. Today I finished up through episode four and actually, I've changed my mind. It's good. You hear me? It's good.

Episode one dragged a bit, but with episode two I could see why they were making certain changes (and actually, I preferred the Suki and Sokka interactions in this version). Will probably write about them later.

Episodes three and four are set in Omashu and adapt elements of the Book One episodes "The Northern Air Temple", "The King of Omashu", "Jet" and the Book Two episode "The Cave of Two Lovers", with a few additional plot points taken from Book Two with regards to Azula, Zuko and Iroh's storylines.

These two episodes are really good. Gonna put spoilers below here just in case, but I'll put my conclusion here so you can skip the rest:

If you were on the fence about this adaptation, like I was, then I think this pair of episodes really show you what it's about. This is the story without the cartoon veneer. It's confronting just what a century of protracted warfare does to people, and treating their trauma seriously. Yes, it has lost a lot of the original comedy, but it's not completely without heart (we still get the Cabbage Merchant, he's still great).

Give it a go. If you're like me, and you grew up with this cartoon, then take a deep breath and remember that you're older too. Let the story age with you, and bring you back into the world for a more mature take at it. It doesn't need to replace the original, it's just another adaptation. Enjoy both of them.

First let's talk about the changes: instead of showing up at the Northern Air Temple, the Mechanist (now given the name Sai) and Teo are citizens of Omashu. Jet and his gang are also introduced early, still as resistance fighters. Zuko and Iroh turn up to Omashu in person, instead of being largely absent during the trio's visit.

Unlike in the original show, Aang wasn't planning on visiting Omashu until he saw Teo flying in his glider and mistook him for a surviving Airbender. This starts the episode, and we're introduced to this version of him and his father. I appreciated that they kept the important elements of both characters even after removing them from their original context (as squatters in the Northern Air Temple), and tied them neatly into Omashu's technology advances.

Sai the Mechanist is turned into an active collaborator, out of fear for his son's safety. Jet's black and white morality is dialled up when it's revealed he's been behind the bombing campaign in Omashu. King Bumi retains a lot of his original character but they really, really drive home how much a century of war and compromise has eaten away at the young child Aang remembers, and his bitterness is entirely justified.

I could gush about this for a while, but trying to keep it short: all the changes made to this pair of episodes work. Nothing felt out of place, everything meshed together into a well-woven, well-written story that gave a real gut punch of emotion during Aang and Bumi's confrontation. I also really liked that instead of Aang and Katara in the tunnels, it's her and Sokka - they get to have the argument that's been brewing for a while, and it helped ground that they're still just kids. They've been thrust into a conflict that they're not prepared for. Jet's portion took the themes of his original episode and ratcheted them up, showing how the trauma of being raised in war can seriously mess with your worldview, and that if you're not careful you can begin to perceive everyone as the enemy.

If I was on the fence about this adaptation before, these two episodes have fully convinced me of it.

[aitarose]

AKAIBARA (T.KUROO) pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

synopsis: he was everything, her entire world. y/n didn’t know love without kuroo, but she also didn’t know if he knew any love for her—any love at all.

word count: 5.6k

genre: hanahaki au, unrequited love, mutual pining, fluff, angst

warnings: blood, mentions of death, terminal illness?

notes: this is for my muse, lina-chan, since she’s my love—and i catered y/n to her exact personality traits..so you’re welcome loser-chan!

↳ DIRECTORY

Nine petals and counting.

Y/N rested her hands on the sides of the vinyl bathroom sink, head tilted downwards, towards the view of red. Solids and liquids approached the drain, a mix of flowers and blood escaping from her body.

Ten, eleven, twelve. It was unstoppable, the amount of love she was losing, the amount of strength she had to go on. Her legs felt weak, frail in comparison to her usual tenacity and vigor on the side of the court.

She hadn’t been able to manage the volleyball team in weeks, nearing months. Her physical health had wavered, forcing her to resign from her post. Forcing her responsibilities on their coach, her boys having to fend for themselves for the first time since she was fifteen.

Loneliness was all Y/N knew, though she was still an avid student and classmate. It was all she’d felt in the past days, isolated from her friends, her classmates, even him.

Even Kuroo.

It wasn’t that she wanted to be apart from him, from his humor, his laugh, the overwhelming feeling of warmth that he brought to her life. He was her sun amongst Toyko’s sea of stars—but he couldn’t see her like this.

He couldn’t see the blood stains, the coughing fits, the garden of flowers that grew from her throat. She was a mess and he was him, the very person that caused her this horrid disease. The very person that she loved more than anyone in the entire world.

Hanahaki wasn’t uncommon in their town, nearly a quarter of Nekoma High suffered from it in some type of way. It was truly an enigma, a confusion turned infection that made no sense to the human mind.

Y/N had tried to re-work her diagnosis for years, since the first few weeks she’d had it—and despite her knowledge of anatomy and biology, there was no solution to her dilemma, there was no true scientific cure.

And over time, she and Kuroo had come to realize that. While they worked and worked for a way to rid her of the thorns, there was nothing they could do as he didn’t know who her love was.

He didn’t know that no matter how many nights he stayed up beside her, chin rested over her shoulder, arms wrapped around her torso—no matter how much he tried to relieve her of her pain, he only made it worse.

He wanted to help, she knew that he wanted to help in any way that he could—but it was no use. All he’d ever be able to do is watch in sympathy as she’d run out of their classroom and back into the hole that was the public girl’s restroom.

Kuroo was the best person Y/N knew, which was all the more reason that he had to stay out, that he needed to give her space during this time. The disaster that was hanahaki couldn’t infiltrate his life, Y/N wouldn’t let it, he didn’t deserve the pressure—the pressure of loving her.

Thirteen, fourteen, to nothing.

Relief began to overcome her lungs, oxygen filling her veins, the thorn-covered vines retreated back to the place in which they came. It was as if the sun had finally showered through the clouds, giving Y/N the light that she so desperately needed.

Her flowers were strange in comparison to the stories she and Kuroo had read online. Rather than continuous, straight lines of blood and blossoms—her roses were sporadic and unpredictable.

There’d be times where she’d be stuck in the restroom for the entirety of the day, throwing up due to her rib cage cramping and rolling over itself—or she’d be perfectly fine, with all the energy in the world.

Those days were her favorite. The day’s where she and Kuroo would scream at the top of their lungs. Where he’d spin her around and wrap her up in the tightest hug he could muster. Where he’d smile at her as if she wasn’t only his best friend—as if he loved her.

But he didn’t. He didn’t love her, not in the way she wanted at least.

A light sigh escaped Y/N’s lips, her quivering body stilling as she finally took a look towards her reflection. She’d been staring at the pile of scarlet for nearly a half-an-hour, trying her best not to lose count of her trauma.

Fifteen petals was all it took to uproot her day, dwindle her time with Kuroo down to nothing. It was embarrassing, truly.—that her soul was controlled by a mere rose.

Color slowly returned to her cheeks, flushed shades of pink mocking her with their rosy hue, red lighting up the tip of her nose. Her eyes were weary, blurry from the amount of tears she’d shed, the same tears that had meshed with the running tap water. 

Taking a deep breath, Y/N let go of the sink. She let go of the safety of her reflection, the safety of knowing that she was the only person who’d ever see herself this way, completely derailed by love.

Stepping into the real world, the world of judgement from classmates and concerned advisors, she hastily left the bathroom—only for a large, calloused hand to wrap itself around her forearm.

As she rolled her eyes, turning to face her captor, Y/N raised her palm and flicked her best friend right between his eyebrows. “You waited?” She suppressed a grin, stifling a laugh at the sight of his mocking pout. 

“Seems like fan behavior to me, Kuroo.”

He frowned at her words, picking her up with ease as he made his way down the now empty hallways. Y/N squealed, despite being used to his relentless strength, there would never be a time in which she’d expect him to throw her over his shoulder. 

Holding her legs whilst supporting her waist, he nodded with a troublesome smile at any of their classmates who’d so happened to remain after the school bell had rung—to which they’d respond with a simple shake of the head, amused at the sight of Nekoma High’s infamous best friends.

“Fan behavior, huh?” Kuroo spun dramatically as they reached the parking lot, nearly throwing Y/N into the passenger seat of his car, her designated spot. The place where no person, not even Kenma, was allowed to sit.

He instinctively buckled her seatbelt, knowing that she must’ve felt weak and nauseous due to the stress her body had been under only ten minutes prior, before settling himself behind the wheel.

A bright beam overcame his features, practically spreading across his entire face as her eyes met his. “Where to next?” Y/N asked, fingers fiddling with the different radio channels, deciding on a soft indie-station.

“Home.” He replied, taking a hold of the hand she’d placed over the volume nozzle, allowing them to turn up the song together. Though it was brief, him releasing her touch after seconds, it was moments like this where she considered the theory that perhaps she did hold a place in his heart. 

She shook her head, forcing the absurd thought away and rolling her eyes once again at the utter ridiculousness that was Kuroo Tetsurou. She leaned back into the soft leather of her seat, deadpanning at his words. “Your home. You act as if I live there.”

“You practically do,” he quipped back with ease, hair pressed against the chair’s headrest, smothering the thick black peaks, “What’s mine is yours, Y/N. There’s nothing I’d ever keep from you.”

“You deserve the world, and I’m going to give you every little bit of this world that I can.”

Her lips pursed into a tight smile, internally punching herself at the sweetness in his voice, the purity that he managed to sop into every word. Looking away from his gorgeous face, gaze retreating to the bustling city around them, Y/N contemplated his promise. 

It was impossible, the idea that he’d proposed. The thing that he vowed to her in the mornings, afternoons, and nights. The concept that she always loved to hear roll off of his tongue, but also wanted to throw out her open window. 

After all, how would Kuroo ever be able to give her the world—when her world was entirely him?

While his house was practically her second home, Y/N always seemed to notice the residence beside it before anything else.

As they pulled up in the driveway, Kuroo carefully parking his car between the stone gate and his grandfather’s buggy, both of their ears perked to the familiar sound of none other than Kozume Kenma. 

“You’re spending the night again?” He questioned peering over the fence, recognizing the extra duffel packed along with Y/N’s school bag. “You were just over last week. You’d think you guys would be sick of each other by now.”

Kuroo shook his head, making his way around the hood and opening the passenger door. “No way, pudding head.” He shouted, resting his elbow on the roof whilst slinging the small pack over his shoulder. “Only thing I’d ever get sick of is your cute little attitude.”

Y/N giggled, squinting her eyes to see the nonchalant expression that was undoubtedly gracing Kenma’s features. She wasn’t exactly close with him, having little to nothing in common other than their giant of a friend, but still held great respect for his dedication. 

Dedication as in the value to which he held his friendship with Kuroo.

Though she’d known their captain longer, there were times in which she wasn’t able to be by his side during matches or breakdowns. This usually having to do with her hanahaki forcing her to be immobile.

But it always turned out alright, since Kenma was there. He was always there to help, even when she’d forget to send him a warning text message or quick heads up. He was reliable as he was pessimistic, a truly unconventional friend that Y/N would be grateful for until the very end.

As Kuroo took her bags inside the house, insisting that he had to help even though she claimed that her muscles were feeling perfectly fine, Y/N waved to the younger boy, casually approaching his small figure.

Her steps were small, fallen leaves crunching beneath the soles of her sneakers. Autumn was beautiful this year, the oranges and yellows mixing together like the perfect sunset.

It was complementary, the colors—they reflected the sky in a dream-like synchronization. The last time fall had landed upon Japan, she and Kuroo had spent the entire day nestled together, jumping in the multiple piles of leaves and sipping spiced drinks by the fireplace.

While the memories were happy and nostalgic, they were a distraction. Nothing but recollections of false hope and ideologies that she’d ingrained into her brain as convincing factors that he did indeed love her—that he had just an inch of his heart that was completely reserved for her.

Kenma immediately opened his mouth, interrupting Y/N before she could ask him all about how his school day had gone. Her jaw dropped, the statement being said was unexpected, out of box in the current moment of relaxation.

“You still have hanahaki.” He looked straight into her eyes as if he were challenging her. If Y/N could see into his brain, there was no doubt that the gears would be turning rapidly in synchrony. “You’ve had it for years, Y/N. A normal person would’ve given up by now.”

She frowned, her lips curving into a downward arc, slightly appalled by the bluntness of his words, before furrowing her brows while she came up with an understandable response.

Her relationship with Kenma was civil, never straying from one of acquaintances, but there were sparse moments like this in which he’d blatantly say something personal—something that made her think that he knew more than he was letting on.

“I don’t think my case falls under the normal category.” Y/N whispered, choosing to reply with honesty over falsehood, while both of their gazes fled to Kuroo, who’d cheered as he successfully managed to unlock the front door with his hands full of bags. 

“You don’t have to worry about him,” she continued with a love-struck radiance. As if on natural instinct, her legs began to move towards the person that was her heart, abandoning Kenma to his side of the fence. 

With one final glance, she saw him nod at her last words. The words that she repeated to herself every time her flowers became too much, every time she needed to remember why she was here in the first place.

“As long as I’m still breathing, he’s got me.” She called out, chest warming at the sight of her little friend’s approval. The approval that meant more to her than any test grade or big win. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Heads up!” 

Before she could blink an eye, Y/N’s vision was covered by the thin grey fabric of Kuroo’s massive t-shirt. It draped over her head like a sheet in the night, the smell being clean and comforting, completely and utterly him.

Reaching up to take hold of the borrowed garment, she shoved his chest, feeling the vibrations of laughter rolling off of him in contagious waves. Despite how much he annoyed her, he could be quite amusing at times.

Their dynamic had always been an interesting one. Her being more logical and serious, whilst he was carefree and witty. They weren’t an obvious pair of best friends, but they did have the important things in common.

That being the value of hard work and dedication, whether that came to school assignments or volleyball—they both knew the true meaning of ambition and success, and would do anything to help the other achieve their dreams.

Opening the door to the guest bathroom, Y/N slipped Kuroo’s shirt over the tank top she’d been wearing, stripping herself of her undergarments beneath the endless fabric. She tossed her clothes into her duffel, zipping it tightly and placing it on the floor.

The Kuroo household was a place she was comfortable in, having been friends with the boy for nearly all of her life. It wasn’t uncommon for her to stop by and stay for dinner or overnight, considering his family adored her and considered her one of their own.

In their first year of high school, she’d spent a total of one-hundred and twenty nights wrapped up in his arms before his grandparents had decided to permanently mark the guest bedroom as her’s. 

Though she’d grown accustomed to the warmth of her best friend’s comforter, Y/N did have to admit that it was nice to have her own space. Her own space that also gave her the luxury of having the person she loved only one wall away.

As she dug through the right-hand drawer for the toothbrush and toothpaste that she always stored in the case that she’d be staying overnight, a rhythm of knocks ricocheted off of the hard wood.

“You ready?” She called out, walking past the sliding shower doors and turning the small door-knob. “I was just about to brush my teeth,” her words continued, stopping as she came face-to-face with her favorite giant. 

His smile was cheeky, mischief seemingly on his mind as he held up his own set of tools. “You waited for me, Y/N?” A sly smirk crept on his face, her words from earlier coming back to bite her in the butt. “Seems a little like fan behavior to me.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stepped aside, making room for his ginormous body in the quaint bathroom. The countertop wasn’t exactly large, having just enough space for the two of them to stand beside one another with their arms touching as they looked into their reflections.

Her eyes seemed distant, even to herself. The usual livelihood that inhabited her irises was absent, replaced with fragments of the person she once was, the person that had been overshadowed by dirt and disease.

Resentment was the only emotion she displayed, hatred for the pathetic reasoning behind her pain, the putrid dreams she wished would come true—but as Y/N looked away from the stress and worry, she saw him. She saw Kuroo.

Unlike her, his gaze wasn’t resting on himself. His eyes weren’t immediately attracted to his own appearance, choosing to lay on Y/N instead. His neck was angled down, a soft expression gracing his face while he simply admired her.

While he admired her like a boy in love.

They held eye contact for a brief moment, neither one wanting to end the intimate interaction, before he broke away. He snapped out of his trance, hands subconsciously reaching for the tube of toothpaste that had been forgotten by both minds. 

As they began to brush their teeth, Kuroo played troublemaker. Whether that meant making faces or mimicking Y/N’s actions, he found endless ways to humor her, wanting to see the smile on her face as she flipped him off.

The laughter wheezing from her lips was infectious, her body doubling over, forcing heavy chuckles from her love as well. It was a sight to see, two high schoolers in a minimal-sized bathroom, overcome with a fit of giggles—but that was simply them. It was simply Y/N and Kuroo.

With a mouth full of foam, she leaned past him and over the sink, expecting to see a mix of bubbles and white—only to be gifted with the mood-killing sight of blood and blossoms. 

She choked, gasping for air as the small roses fell from her throat. “Please,” she cried, gripping the ledge of the counter with a killer grasp, gesturing for Kuroo to leave the room. “I can’t breathe.”

But he didn’t listen, he didn’t leave. He didn’t cover his eyes and walk away like he normally did, respecting her wishes that he would never see her like this—like a complete and utter mess.

As her airway began to clear, her smiles turned to frowns, embarrassed of what he’d seen, the proof of her never-ending infatuation. However, Kuroo didn’t seem phased. He glanced at the flowers as if they were nothing, as if they weren’t a foul sight in itself.

He turned the faucet on, washing them away from her view, forcing the spray roses to dissolve and wither above the drain—and for some odd reason, Y/N’s heart hurt at his actions. 

It was the first time in months that he’d been present during one of her uproars. The first time in months that he had to see what she went through on a nearly daily basis, and he didn’t even blink an eye.

He looked at the physical representation of her love like it didn’t matter, like it was a pest that he had to kill. Like an unintentional rejection that his instincts dictated, a rejection that she feared for every moment of every day.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N muttered, refusing to meet the concern in his gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the inevitable judgement that she expected to come from his way—only to feel his rough hand take a hold of her chin, tilting it upwards towards his face.

Nothing was said, no remarks came from his end. Instead, he wordlessly stole the hand towel that’d been hanging on the shower door and dabbed away the blood that had soaked into the skin beneath her lips. 

He was unreadable.

No matter how hard she tried to analyze his thoughts, his actions, his posture; a blank canvas was all she’d painted. She wanted to keep apologizing for the things that were out of her control, but as she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted with a question that she’d never expected to hear.

“If it weren’t for your hanahaki,” he began, brows furrowed in concentration, not allowing Y/N to pin-point what he was so focused on, if it was the disease or herself. “Do you think you’d know that you love them?”

“You know, your person?”

Her response was momentary, the gears in her brain working on overtime as she tried to find the meaning behind his words. Why the sudden curiosity? Did he have hanahaki? Was there someone he loved? 

Clearing her throat, making sure that there was no evidence of her accident, Y/N began to speak slowly. “Being in love is more than just a disease, Kuroo. It can’t be dimmed down to a single flower or infection.”

“I love him enough to put myself through pressure every day. I love him so much that it physically hurts me to think about him. He brings a light to this darkness that no other person can outshine—”

“—and I’d never give up on him.” Glass covered her eyes, tears struggling to roll down her cheeks as her peripheral vision grew blurry. In the midst of her tangent, Kuroo had pressed Y/N against his chest, rubbing her back in soft circles.

“He’s the other half of me, my true equal.” Bitterness was being laced in her tone, the irony of it all settling in. It was unfair. Her describing her everlasting love for the boy she’d do anything for. He was right beside her, and yet he seemed miles away.

“I’d know love for him even if I was healthy. Even if we were strangers, worlds apart.” Choking back the last of her cries, Y/N bit her lip, pushing away the warmth of his chest. “Trust me, Kuroo. You’d know if you were in love.”

For once in his life, he had no words. No comments or remarks that he was dying to say. His only response was a nod of the head, a curt acknowledgement of her feelings, before he turned and said a brief goodnight.

Before he turned and left Y/N with nothing but confusion, thoughts that would keep her restless and awake throughout the night. Itching concerns to creep up her veins and into her dreams.

If only he loved her, then all of this could’ve been avoided. If only he had asked her who her hanahaki was for, then maybe she would’ve confessed. Perhaps she’d be free and untethered from her illness. 

But he didn’t ask, and she didn’t confess. All she was left with was broken fragments of care, leftovers of love that she received through twisted questions and wonder. 

All she was left with was half of a heart, that would never find its whole.

2AM.

It was nearly two in the morning and Y/N was restless, chasing sleep like it was an everlasting punishment. Slumber being within her grasp, but stolen, kidnapped by the stress and worries that were Kuroo Tetsurou. 

Her mind was moving at a million miles per hour, overthinking and overworking the question that he’d asked her in the midst of their nightly routine. The curiosity that had somehow overcome his usual vigor and happiness. 

Panic settled in her throat, the feeling of thorns and stems inching their way up her neck and touching her tongue. She needed water, anything that could suppress the punishment for feeling love. 

Swinging her legs over the side of the queen-sized mattress, Y/N shivered as her feet touched the cold floor. Her steps were light, trying her best to be completely silent, not wanting to disturb the actual members of the household.

The trip to the kitchen was short. An easy route for her after having taken many midnights trips before, since her hanahaki always seemed to act up whenever she stayed overnight. 

Finding a small glass and filling it to the brim with tap water, Y/N gulped it down, savoring every last bit as if there was no other substance on Earth. The liquid ran down her throat, pushing past the vines and forcing them into their home that was her heart. 

“You’re up late.” 

Y/N jumped, nearly smashing the cup on the counter as the familiar voice of Kuroo’s obaachan crept up from behind her. She sighed, taking a deep breath before facing the old woman.

Her relationship with his family had grown extremely close in the years that they’d known each other. She was practically considered a member of the family, them always wanting her around no matter what the circumstances were.

But she and obaachan were different compared to how she bonded with the Kuroo men. Unlike the others, his grandmother was observant, knowing of the love that Y/N had for her favorite boy. Knowing of the cause of her hanahaki.

“Obaachan.” She greeted her weakly, holding up the glass as an excuse for the timing of their interaction. “I’m sorry if I woke you, I didn’t mean to cause any havoc.”

The old woman simply smiled, approaching Y/N with a loving hand and placing it on her shoulder in comfort. “It’s alright dear,” she squeezed her palm, feeling the younger girl’s struggling heartbeat. “It’s not your fault.”

Y/N grimaced, shaking her head in defeat. “But it is,” she admitted. She’d always take blame for her hanahaki. It was a virus in not only her life, but everyone around her. “It’s my fault that I’m unwell.”

“No, dear.” Obaachan cupped her hands around her cheeks, challenging her eyes, not taking her answer or excuses. A sad smile graced her lips, sorrow in her irises. “You’re not unwell..you’re in love.”

Tears grew from the corners of Y/N’s sockets, waterworks beginning to roll down her cheeks at the familiar feeling of the comforting touch of a Kuroo. She broke down, her walls shattering in front of the only person who understood. The only person who would truly listen. 

“Why won’t he love me?” She cried out, pain overtaking her whole body. The pent up emotions were collapsing like tidal waves, storming throughout her heart. “Why won’t I ever deserve him?”

Concern furrowed in the older woman’s brows at the sight of Y/N breaking down. Her grandson’s best friend was one of the strongest people she knew, and knowing that her struggles were this great was indescribably disheartening. 

“My Tetsurou has been a caretaker all of his life,” she started, gently speaking in languid sentences, doing her best to keep Y/N’s attention on her and not her pain. “Whether it was for me, my husband, or Kenma—he takes on more responsibility than he can handle.”

“His heart is so big, so full of love for everyone other than himself.” She continued, her words beginning to settle in Y/N’s mind. “And in the midst of that, I don’t think he realizes that he’s capable of experiencing love as well.”

“He doesn’t realize that everything he could ever want is standing right in front of him.”

Obaachan was whispering now, her voice being soft but commanding. It was frightening, the passion that she held for her grandson. The passion that she held for her dreams of his happiness. Her dreams of him finding his true love.

“While love is a chemical feeling, it has no chemical solution.” Y/N swallowed hard, taking in every single thing she was saying. Letting her statements ingrain themselves into her memory. “This disease doesn’t define your future, my dear.”

“Whomever you choose to love will be lucky, Y/N—but I have to say, I truly hope that my Tetsurou has luck on his side.”

It’d been almost a month since the fateful overnight encounter, Obbachan’s words playing on repeat, over and over again until they grew tiresome. The idea that Kuroo could perhaps love her was haunting, terrorizing her very soul. 

Despite the shift in their energy, the elephant in the room being his unexpected question and her never ending response, their friendship continued on like normal.

They’d go to school, spend time together afterwards, perhaps even have a sleepover, and repeat. It was all the same, not a thing out of place except for a major detail that couldn’t be explained. 

The presence of Y/N’s hanahaki was little to none.

Her flowers decreased, the numbers becoming smaller and smaller every single time she took the time to count. The disease that had become a constant in her life had suddenly disappeared, confusing her to a maximum.

She didn’t feel like she’d fallen out of love for Kuroo, there was still a large part of her heart that was reserved for him and only him—yet her roses were invisible, the trips to the bathroom were down to none. 

And while those statistics had fallen, the number of quick glances, stolen touches, and late night conversations had increased. She and Kuroo did everything together before, but now it was as if they were inseparable at all times.

It was as if his heart had finally opened up, accepted her presence and locked it into place, never wanting to let it go. Y/N couldn’t determine what had gotten into him, what made the sudden change in behavior.

But her flowers were gone and her love still remained. All that needed to be said was a confession, a confession of the love that she hoped was mutual. The one-sided love that she’d secretly harbored for years on years.

Mindlessly walking down the school hallway, passing by classmates and advisors, Y/N contemplated the future of her and Kuroo’s relationship. The future of her heart and if it would ever find its other half. The other half that so happened to take a hold of her hand at that very moment.

Kuroo seemed on edge, his heartbeat was quick, throbbing against Y/N’s palm as he dragged her towards the closest empty classroom. Without warning he closed the door, drowning out the scattered noises of everyone on the other side of the wall.

“Hey.” He said, breathing heavily. His shoulders were rising and falling, his breaths deep as if he’d just ran a marathon on his path to retrieve her. “I really needed to talk to you.”

Y/N almost toppled over, the strength of his grasp tripping and unbalancing her body. As her vision began to stabilize, wobbly from the sprint, she took notice of the classroom he’d brought her to.

Flowers lined the walls and ceilings, potted plants hanging from the wooden beams and arches. Soil was sprinkled over the floorboards, various footprints etched into the dirt. 

He’d taken her to the floriculture classroom—the classroom for the study of flowers.

Silence overcame them for a moment, neither one speaking a single word as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Her confession was at the tip of her tongue, ready to be said, ready to be spoken into existence—but Kuroo spoke first.

“I’ve never had it.” He simply said, his mouth pursed and head towering over her. Before she could respond, asking him what in the world he was talking about, he continued. “Hanahaki. I’ve never had it.”

Biting his lips, Kuroo took her hands in his once more. Rubbing her palms with his calloused fingertips, easing away her confusion and speaking his feelings with his entire heart weighed into them.

“All this time, for all these years, I thought that I’d never known love.” His brows furrowed in concentration, and for the first time, Y/N could tell what he was so focused on. It was her. 

“I asked you how you knew that you were in love, flowers or not, and the way you described that feeling..it was familiar. It was something that I’d felt before, something that I felt all of the time.”

“Something that I felt all of the time for you.”

Y/N was at a loss for words, the confession that she’d always wanted to say being said to her. The very moment that she’d dreamed of was actually coming true, it was actually happening right in front of her eyes. It wasn’t her imagination—it was real. Kuroo loved her.

The smile spread across her face was more than enough to ease his nerves, her teeth were so bright they could’ve been compared to the sun. He couldn’t help but think of how beautiful she looked, how she was his sun.

“I’m so sorry my love hasn’t been constant, Y/N. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize the patterns, how your hanahaki came and went. It was my fault you’ve gone through so much pain.”

“But even here,” he whispered, pulling her close. His arms wrapped themselves around her body, his nose being mere inches away from hers. “With all of the flowers anyone could ever ask for, the only one that matters is you.”

She could feel his breath now, the soft breeze against her cheeks. Her body wanted to surge forward, connect their lips in a final confirmation of their feelings. She wanted the kiss with Kuroo that she’d been waiting for for her entire life. 

“I love you.” He admitted, not waiting for her response before pressing his mouth to hers.

His smile could be felt between their lips, moving continuously as if they didn’t need any air to breathe. After all, they really only needed each other—Kuroo was the missing piece to Y/N’s puzzle, her heart was finally whole.

As they broke apart, love radiating off of them in contagious waves, overwhelming the room, igniting the aura—a cheeky grin grew on her new lover’s face. 

He plucked a flower from the pot behind her head, presenting it with a laugh at the sight of her rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. Although she found him to be ridiculous, she accepted it gratefully—loving the new chapter that they were about to embark on.

“I heard you like roses?”

© aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy or claim my writing, works, themes, copy and paste my words, or headers as your own

[ssaalexblake]

See, i don’t know if this is the intention behind the Missy arc because i’d rather pull teeth than read anything the bts team from that era said, ever, but I don’t think Missy’s journey Can be called a redemption arc simply because the content of said arc doesn’t support that read of it. 

I am on the fence as to whether i think that was purposeful or not; If it was just shoddy as hell writing, well, i’m not going to be surprised. But I think it’s valid to say they may have wanted to play in the sandbox of saying The Master doesn’t have to be evil without having to commit to altering a beloved part of canon storytelling that has lasted 50 years; The Master is a villain. It may have been on purpose. Either way though, there is No way they were ever going to make the master a good guy from then on, it just wasn’t going to happen, you don’t fix what ain’t broken. 

But the thing is, Redeeming yourself isn’t a static activity. Redemption is activity, not introspection. Missy in the vault, a prison for her crimes, has oodles of time for introspection. Now, i’m not saying Missy feeling bad for past actions was fake, i’m just saying that that is not something that redeems her. Feeling bad about something you did does not negate the fact that you did it and to call somebody feeling guilt redemption is inaccurate. 

By Missy’s own omission, she does not agree with the doctor about what true goodness means*! Yet Missy is alive and in this prison and not dead and in this prison because the doctor would not let anybody kill her. She promised to be ‘good’ if he would save her... And he did (it was not the promise that led to him saving her, though, he was going to anyway). 

So... Missy attempts to keep her promise. She tries to live up to his view of goodness even if she, you know, Validly points out his arrogance is clouding his judgment. If Missy were really trying to be Good and not trying to be the doctor’s friend first and foremost, she’d have gone against him, not worked with him.  

I do not mesh with the idea that Dhawan’s characterization Ruined Missy’s redemption because Missy never got redeemed. Missy was trying to be friends with 12 again... Her feeling bad about past evils does not make up for them. Twelve and Missy were two desperate people whom love each other trying to make it work despite everything about them as people meaning that it’s really not going to. Like, to gain 12′s approval Missy can’t even perform her idea of being good because 12 doesn’t agree with her. 12 shoots himself in the foot by the parameters he sets on their relationship... If a man defines true goodness upon the lack of reward for good actions, How can Missy be rewarded with his friendship at the end of this if she achieves these goals he set? According to him, her doing this to be his friend again invalidates the purity of the action of goodness and she automatically fails. 

13 and Dhawan are merely the inevitable fall out but with some more narrative trauma added on for good measure. Missy and Twelve were the last ditch attempt to be together once more. The former are the explosions of grief and anger and misery now they both realise it’s not going to happen. They’re the natural conclusion to the tragedy arc Missy and Twelve were always going to turn out to be. To add to the confusion and misery, neither party is honest with the other when they meet again... The Master lies to the doctor to make her think the worst of him, to rub it in that they can’t be friends again because he supposedly cares more about being able to deal out violence and death than being friends again (literally everything Missy did negates this). The doctor then lashes out in response due to how much that hurt. 

In the end, Missy tries to be 12′s friend, tries to be his version of good, but in achieving a moment of selfless good she can’t be rewarded for it because that would invalidate it according to 12′s rules. Simm shooting her in the back and killing her means she achieved everything needed to be friends with the doctor again, being shot in the back is her success. It is not redemption, though. She’s not trying to be her own ideal of good, and she’s not trying to make up for past evils. She wishes to be 12′s friend. This does not invalidate the goodness of her actions in going back to stand with 12. People aren’t a monolith of good or evil, Missy can have her moment of selfless good and do terrible things afterwards and Still, the master will never Ever be able to erase that moment of good from their history. It is not invalidated, people are not that simple. 

In the end, Missy and 12 were just two people trying to make it work. I can’t see this as a redemption arc at all.. It’s a last ditch attempt at a relationship. In which case, the master returning and being violent doesn’t invalidate Missy... It acknowledges her. 

(* I know that, since the master is the master, you could say ‘hey maybe her idea of good is actually pretty sketch??? but i’d like to point out that Ryan, in the haunting of villa diodati, expresses a sentiment nigh on identical to Missy’s and Ryan’s a good guy! The point of that scene was, genuinely, to call 12 out on his arrogance. 13 rips into Ryan too. They’ve not learnt at all... But the fact stands, Missy had a valid opinion. She’s allowed to consider that good.)

[plush-rabbit]

Bubaigawara Jin Raising A Teen

A/N: I always like getting these types of asks, they’re like just nice happy ones and I like to think that as like authority types they would actually be p good (Dabi is on the fence but I like to think he would be (this also more w/ Twice’s perspective))

Jin sees himself in you. He wasn’t born a criminal, he probably could have had a decent life if his parents hadn’t died and he hadn’t had the whole string of bad luck. But he did, and he’s here now. He’s with the League and he’s happy. The happiest that he’s been in a long time- probably around your age if he really did have to think about it. But you come along, and you’re rough around the edges, you’re a scrappy kid, but you’re good and because of that, he’s gotten attached to you.

He acts as a surrogate brother figure. He’s annoying and will tease you. But he’s still an older brother. If you come home and put off doing your homework, he chastises you and puts you back on track, often contradicting himself by tossing your homework across the room, and pulling you away to go watch a movie. The compromise is that you have to do your homework but you can watch the movie during it. It often leads to you taking hours to finish a simple assignment. He knows that homework is rough, he gets it, but he wants you to have a good future, He wants to know that you’ll at least have a fighting chance.

He really enjoys that you and Toga get along so well. You might have varying interests but you both indulge each other and get to act like kids. You’re eccentric, so while you might not enjoy the pinch of the needle or sight of blood, you entertain her. And she entertains you. She’s quick to paint your nails, to try new hairstyles and even gossip about people she doesn’t know with you. He feels like a big brother when he does catch the both of you bonding. 

While he isn’t new to feelings, he’s new to the warm types, the feeling that will make him feel safe. He doesn’t know why he had the urge to get attached to you, to watch over you and make sure that nothing happens to you. It might be because of how nice you are to him. You aren’t a villain, you aren’t a member of the League in any way, but you treat them and him like a person. You bring them trinkets, small things that they might enjoy and what you can afford, you think of them and you trust them. You trust him. 

He can appreciate your efforts on helping him, but his case is from something psychological and traumatizing, things that piled up and he isn’t fond of remembering the memories too closely. He has no qualms about talking about the things that have happened to him or the things that he has done but he doesn’t want to put it on you. He’ll give you a tired smile, place an unlit cigarette in his mouth and give you a clap on your back. But at the end of the day, you’re a kid and he isn’t going to put all his problems on you.

He isn’t hesitant to bring you with him to meet his new family. He actually talks about them constantly, and if you show a slight hint of interest in them, he’s inviting you over, reassuring you that you’ll be fine and that they’re good people- despite their initial introductions. He trusts you, he brings you into his family and he keeps a close eye on you until Toga pulls you away. He likes seeing that you mesh well with the family.

While he doesn’t mind you being a shoulder for him to rely on, it’s different when it comes to the rest. They all have some sort of trauma- usually around their quirk or past- and while you may not have a quirk, it also means that you don’t fully understand what it is like for them. They’ll talk, share snippets of their lives- some are more open than others- but like Twice, they don’t put that pressure on you. Toga will be the one to rely more on you due to the closeness of age, but even then, she still doesn’t delve deep into her past.

There is no fixing what has happened to them- at least not healing all of their wounds. Some of them are so cemented in their pain, others don’t talk about it, some are too hesitant to bring up with someone so young, so helping them become better people isn’t something that they welcome with open arms. They know who they are, they call themselves the League of Villains but they believe in their message. But they do appreciate you trying to put them in a better mental space. They like the little tricks that you think you’re subtle about, they enjoy seeing you bring them stimming toys or something to distract themselves with.

During the aftermath of Magne’s death, he turns to you. It’s the few times that he allows you to see him so broken. He doesn’t want you to see him like that but he admires the help. You’re a younger sibling to him, so to know that you really do have his back, that you comfort him and make it known that it wasn’t his fault for what happened; well, he can’t say how much it meant to him, but he gets you whatever you want afterwards. And once the League forms into the Paranormal Liberation Front, he’s quick to offer you a bit of extra protection. 

Being treated like a person is an amazing thing. It’s something that Jin hasn’t had the opportunity to be treated by someone outside his close knit circle. You’re there for him. You treat him how he deserves to be treated and try to find some tactics or grounding techniques for him to remember who he is and keep him sane. He’ll protect you till death. You getting hurt would absolutely tear him apart. He keeps you close, lets you sit close to him when you first meet his new family, brings you gifts he knows you’ll like when he’s out.

[twinkleallnight]

Remember me -3

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Pairing: Leo x Madeleine

Word count: 1206

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: Mention of death.

Prompt: Features @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 10-horizon.

Summary: Leo has returned, has been brought back to Cordonia after almost three decades. But he is not the same Leo we knew. He is devastated after his wife Katie’s death and his own brother Liam is not able to revive him out of the grief. Everyone looks at one person with all hopes: Madeleine. Will their story begin again at the twilight of their lives?

Catch up here

Present day...

The Lake... Madeleine crossed the tall boundary around the palace, beyond which grew the flowers and shrubs, wildly on the lakeside. The fence was made of wired mesh, which was camouflaged by a thick growth of the blue morning glory over it.

The flowers attracted Madeleine even today just like they did when she was eleven years old....

************

Past...

Queen Eleanor had softened the rough look of the fence with her aesthetic touch. It was serendipity when Madeleine had run away, trying to play a prank on Leo one day when she had first witnessed the blossoming wall…

“Caught ya!” Leo pounced on Madeleine while she was lost in the beauty of the bloom. She lost her balance and both of them tripped and rolled down the slope to the lake. When they finally came to a halt, Madeleine’s head was a bush with a few wild flowers hanging out of her golden tangles. Leo pointed at her head and doubled up laughing. “You look like a clown! Mad Maddie!”

Madeleine frowned at him and he quickly started picking the twigs from her hair. She blushed when he tried moving his fingers through her curls like a comb. “There. Now you are all good.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her eyelashes shyly.

He cupped her cherubic face with his stubby fingers. “I am sorry I didn't mean to let you fall like that.”

Her jade eyes shone brightly, “It is fine Leo. It wasn’t your fault. I lost my balance.” She turned around to look at the calm waters. “This place is beautiful. I never saw it before.”

“Yes, Mom is trying to beautify this side of the palace. She got the hedge maze done and Liam claimed it all. She has promised me that she is going to make a beautiful lakeside garden especially for me here.” Leo boasted.

“It is so sweet of her. She loves you so much even when you are her step son.” Madeleine covered her mouth with shock as soon as the words spilled out.

Leo kept smiling, unaffected.

She tried to explain. “I am so sorry! That was not my intention. It's just that I… I have a mother but she doesn’t care.” Madeleine was almost in tears. Leo clasped her shoulders and proudly said. “It’s okay. You know, my Mom is very loving. She loves you too.”

He stood up and pulled her up along with him and beamed at her, “You can share the lake side with me. We can plant your favourite flowers here with Mom.”

“Really?” Madeleine jumped in excitement as she hugged Leo.

“Yes! Why not!” He exclaimed. "It's my special place. And I want to share it with you."

Both the kids dusted each other's clothes and rushed back to the palace to speak to Eleanor.

After a few days, Madeleine chose Hydrangea to match the blue of morning glory and they planted a row of the flowers. The next time, she got Bluebells.

“Why are you planting all blue flowers?” Leo asked her as she placed some wet soil over her newly planted shrub.

“I love the blues, they match your eyes.” She said bashfully.

“And the greens attached to them?” Leo teased.

“That is the colour of my eyes.” She gazed into his sapphire eyes and then faltered when she realised Leo was staring back at her. “They also resemble the horizon." She pointed at the other end of the lake where the row of olive groves met the firozi skies. Leo sat with her to admire the beauty of the horizon till late in the evening. They left with a promise to come back with more plans and plants.

But the warmth of their favourite little outing place didn’t last long. Their world came crashing down with Eleanor’s sudden death. Liam was too young but for Leo this was the second trauma. He lost his mother once again. Madeleine tried to alleviate his pain by doing his favourite things.

One such day, she pulled Leo to the lake side to surprise him with the new planters of Iris flowers. She chose these specially to dedicate them to Eleanor. But it brought back his mother’s memories making it more painful. He felt more hurt. Tears rolled down his burning eyes as he picked up a planter and threw it away in anger.

“Blue and green never meet.” His lakeside garden dream was shattered. “It's all false. Nothing is true. It is all flawed. Blue and green never meet! The horizon is fake. It is an illusion! Look Madeleine…” He shouted. “its an illusion! It was never true.”

He stomped away in anger. A disheartened Madeleine held herself tightly as she cried out, her cries turning into sobs and sobs mellowing down to few hiccups. As the shine of sun turned to twilight and twilight dulled down to darkness.

But she never gave up. She kept adding little shrubs and bushes of blue flowers in the memory of Queen Eleanor, till it was complete one day. Till, Leo came back with her to his garden, their garden. Till they held hands and stood quietly looking at the horizons.

Present day...

Today, she could see a stooped old figure lethargically moving in that lakeside garden. She took a deep breath. Once again she was going to remind Leo of the happier times. Once again she was going to stand holding his hand gazing at the horizons, reliving the warmth of their yesteryears.

She closed the distance, crossing the gentian blues and the phlox shrub. As she neared the back of the figure standing in the greens, her heartbeat raced. Twenty six long years! She placed her shivering hand on his shoulder. “Leo?”

The tall man turned to look at her. His face had more wrinkles than she could count. The eyes she was searching for were dull and listless. The lips that smiled once were dropped at the corner.

“Yes?” he spoke in a shaky voice. Gone was the tinker in his voice, she noticed.

“How are you?” Madeleine knew better to keep her calm and continue the conversation.

“I am good, thank you.” He completed the formality in a monotone.

She looked down at his hands holding iris flowers at the green stem.

"You remember." She said in a whisper, her heart fluttering.

"How can I forget?" He said in a heavy voice, as if he would break down at any moment.

Madeleine tried to show support and placed her hand on his, holding the flowers.

But he suddenly snatched away. "What are you trying lady?" He yelled at her.

"Leo?" She searched his eyes. "You said you remembered?" She asked him confused.

He glared at her. "Yes. I remember. I remember Katie. How can I forget her?" He thumped his way up to the palace, mumbling incoherent words. Madeleine stood facing the serene waters while the flood from her eyes refused to stop.

The line of olive grove that met the blue sky seemed to be hazy and it faded completely, as the sun went down.

A voice echoed from over the surface of the lake. "Look Madeleine! The horizon is fake. It is an illusion! it was never true."

Tags: @annekebbphotography @alj4890 @anjanettexcordonia @bascmve01 @charlotteg234 @choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonian-literature @drakewalker04 @gkittylove99 @krsnlove @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @idontknowwhysblog @indiacater @jessiembruno @kingliam2019 @lisha1valecha @neotericthemis @ntoraplayschoices @princess-geek @princessleac1 @secretaryunpaid @sirbeepsalot @speedyoperarascalparty @texaskitten30 @txemrn @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @aestheticartsx @yourmajesty09 @efecom @grsarco-blog @lovelyladyk88 @mainstreetreader @choiceskatie @claireloutoo @tinkie1973

***********

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[winterofthedarkestlight]

Steve's mental health issues are largely overlooked in order to get the stiff faced hero

I agree.

I think the closest that we ever get to really examining his trauma is in The Winter Soldier, which does a nicely understated job of showing him as a man who feels adrift in the world--from a moral standpoint, questioning the ethics of continuing to work for an organization that is trying to disguise it’s increasingly autocratic nature as post-9/11 cynicism, from an interpersonal standpoint, with most of the people he knew either dead or dying and struggling to form a deep emotional connection with someone from the present given his unique life experience, and from a psychological standpoint, having his entire worth as a human equated with his skill in combat for almost five years straight at that point. Him telling Sam, “I don’t know,” when he is asked what he would do if he didn’t have to be Captain America anymore is, I think, the most poignant examination of Steve’s psyche to date: it speaks of a man who does not know what his value is outside of fighting. There are interesting roots to this conversation to be found in the first twenty minutes of The First Avenger, where Steve scoffs at Bucky’s suggestion that he be of help to the war effort in a non-violent way, such as picking up scrap metal, and tells him “there are men laying down their lives. I have no right to do any less.” Already there’s a sense that Steve feels like anything outside of literally putting his life on the line for his country would not be “enough” (and there are fascinating threads about gender roles in this conversation, which I won’t go into), and so he finds himself struggling to do anything other than fight when it comes to being of service.

Ok, so all of this aside (wow, I really rambled, huh) Steve’s mental health issues really are largely ignored in the MCU. Even throughout the rest of The First Avenger, Steve’s experience at war is a montage. We don’t get to see the psychological impact that being in an actual battlefield has for him, what it was like for him to kill a man in battle for the first time. What is was like to have such a rapid bodily transformation that completely changed the way that society perceived his value as a person, and the body dysmorphia that went along with it. None of what I talked about above is visible in Civil War, Infinity War, or the first two Avengers films. And I think that you’re onto something when you say the “stiff-faced hero.” I feel like Disney was never invested in exploring Steve’s trauma because there is an unfortunate misconception that trauma makes you weak because it means that you weren’t psychologically strong enough to handle adversity, and that does not mesh well with the traditional conception of the “hero.” I also want to point out something else: after The Winter Soldier, the next time that we see a genuine acknowledgement that it would be best for Steve to step away from the constant fighting is in Endgame, but in the worst way possible. From Endgame’s perspective, the solution to Steve’s trauma is not to simply find another way to be of service that does not involve bodily harm or violence, but rather to insulate himself within a fantasy of the stereotypical white picket fence suburban life with a wife and kids. Heteronormativity is the cure!

(Drop into my inbox and ask my opinion on something related to Stucky (fanfiction/fandom), Steve Rogers, or Bucky Barnes!) 

[shymeg]

Unpopular opinion I know, but I've been on the fence about Bughead getting back together this season and rather than hope after the bunker scene I'm firmly in the, I'm over it camp. Betty just really shows no concern for Jug at all anymore, she's been down right hostile for the most part and sure the VM was upsetting but incomparable to say having your SO cheat on you w/your best friend which she still hasn't really apologized for, I mean Jug is in the bunker knocking back a drink while -1 of 2

Answer under the cut! It's long, and since the anon had 2/2, I figured it best

Alright, Anon, I put this under a cut hope you don't mind.

I sometimes feel like Jughead is Jess from Gilmore Girls. He'd do anything for Rory. Push her in the right direction. Be happy for her. Lorelei didn't like Jess, kind of like how Alice felt that way about Jughead.

Betty is Rory, the girl next door, bright, who works on the newspaper. The only one she meshes with is Jess. Even though it can be a roller coaster ride, they need each other. Yet, she doesn't see how she treats Jess because he's always there and supportive.

Maybe in this story, Betty grows up. She helps herself. She also sees the guy that Lorelei took forever to see Luke. Sometimes it's the little things, the subtle things. Alice still loved FP, so she hid a secret (yet I'm almost more convinced it was Hal's. However, maybe JB had the serial killer gene, but I think that would be because of Gladys rather than FP.) Perhaps in this story, Betty realizes she needs help. When she realizes this, she sees Jug sees him. Like flashback Jug. She wakes up and hopes it's not too late that she can still be with Jughead because she loves him. Love can only go so far, and she needs to put work in just like he was. Is it too late? Can she be forgiven? Will, she chose the Logan over the Jess? In the end, will she end up alone because even though Jug may have loved her, he knew he deserved more, and he'd always help when she needed it like the friend she made him be, but he's moving on?

I felt this season, and even at the end of season 4, the writers messed up Betty. Made her cold, callous, not caring about Jug or even herself. So un Betty likes, that it makes you wonder.

I'm not a fan of cheating. It's not okay to cheat. So for her to even kiss and sneak around is not okay. I get mistakes, but this to me was a hidden mistake, and that isn't alright.

For her to give his manuscript away because she was high and angry at him was not okay. All these come out of the left field.

That's why fanfiction is excellent because these writers screwed it up. I feel for her.

I also agree that while I'm an alcoholic and for her almost to brush it off like it was no big deal when she, of all people, probably knew that would have been one of her fears. That's why I want to believe she can't see what she is doing or how she is treating him. Thinking he needs her, and so it'll be okay. It also shows how emotionally unavailable she is to him and herself. Plus, if he's drinking like that, he can't be of help to himself or Betty. Therefore maybe she's not the best person right now. He wasn't drinking while apologizing to others; at least, I don't recall it.

I think Jug has always owned up to what he's done. He might not always apologize, but he owns it—kind of again like Jess.

They both have had a lot of trauma they might just simply dealing with it differently. I miss Bughead but if season 5 is going to bleed into season 6 if she doesn't snap out of whoever kidnapped her body and mind I think Bughead should just be really great friends.

Yet, Anon, I feel you. Some days I want Bughead, and I miss them terribly, and other days this show to me is saying Jug move on and have Betty as a close friend. However, I think they both need to see a psychologist.

[flatstarcarcosa]

hiiiii i'm here and i have a question abt norman :-) ok. so. i wanna know, like, how does he show love. because he's obviously got a lil bit of an ego thing and i know you two have fun with that and banter and stuff, but are there moments where he lets his guard down? where he's vulnerable or romantic? and if there ARE, what is that like? i am v curious -heavenshipped

@heavenshipped so you know, now that i've mostly caught up on the absolute tomfoolery going on in the comics, and am trying to adapt some of it while still being on the fence about all of it, i'm actually kind of trying to figure that out!

but ironically, i think norman is too. since canonically he's (mostly) clear headed for the first time in decades, i think he's trying to figure out his new place in the world and manage it with what he used to think it should be.

he still skitters and schemes for sure, but i think mostly he's just trying to be. getting by day to day without someone hopping out of an alley to beat his ass for something he probably doesn't even remember doing.

all this to say, i think his primary love language is absolutely acts of service/gifts. which doesn't always mesh well with mine simply being time spent together, and the fact that i have hang ups about people doing things for me because of past traumas.

norman's incapable of doing things without turning it into a grand spectacle. on our second date he picked me up in a fucking limo and we had dinner at some fancy restaurant that had tables way up on balconies so you could look down at the band playing, but still be secluded from other diners.

i think he also shows love the best way he can, even if it's not 'the bestTM' or even very obvious. he does it by leaving work at work, by trying to keep an eye on the clock when he's buried in his workshop or lab.

he shows it by giving me the access codes for his private floors at oscorp, so i can come and go when he's in there. he shows it by letting me see the ~*~*hidden~*~* projects, because he knows i'm not going to turn around and call the avengers down on him. he knows that i trust to let him do his thing, regardless of if it's a good thing or not.

also, he's very physically affectionate. the sense of touch is huge for his mental health and connection to reality, so he's not shy about always having a hand on or near me if i'm within reach. i think when harry started coming back around it startled him a bit; among other things.

to see norman freely hugging and/or really clinging to someone when he'd always been so distant and cold to harry himself growing up. to his credit, he has no way of knowing that norman remains distant because he's unsure if harry even wants to be that close, but obviously won't just say it to him.

norman's love is kind of like a smoke grenade. it envelopes everything around you and makes it hard to discern anything unless you squint and you're careful about feeling your way around, but he's in there somewhere. you just have to find him.

[thatcherseymour-blog]

( luke hemmings, cismale, he/him ) have you heard of THATCHER SEYMOUR ? that TWENTY-ONE year old JUNIOR studying MUSIC? i hear they’re BENEVOLENT & INDECISIVE maybe that’s why they got into GAMMA BETA TAU, but who knows. whenever i hear DIRTY LAUNDRY by ALL TIME LOW i think of them, but most people just say they’re the PHOENIX. maybe you’ll see them around !! + music club

hello, friends!! i’m stevie n i am Very excited to be here and rp w/ you all !!! you can read abt my soft babe underneath the cut !! ♡ come plot w/ us if you would like!! 

there are mentions of death and abuse, so please read cautiously !! x

thatcher was born in australia, and spent the first few years of his life there until the family decided to move over to the united states (more specifically - georgia). 

it was him, his parents and two siblings. one brother and one sister; carson and piper. thatcher was the baby and a Massive mama’s boy. they all had a very close bond. the seymours were best friends with one another, and family always came first. 

music was a big part of his life from even before he was born. both of his parents were musically gifted, his father having spent a large chunk of his life in a band, and his mother a music teacher. it only made sense that the seymour children were just as passionate.

piper took up piano and vocals, carson took up drums, and thatcher, guitar and vocals. it meshed together very well, and they were always putting on performances together.

they needed each other, especially when things took a turbulent turn. when thatcher was nine, their mother fell ill. she spent a lot of her time bedridden with sickness, and thatcher would often refuse to go to school just so he could stay with her and help out. it got to the point where she had to be admitted to the hospital; it was an unstable two years, taking a very heavy toll on a very young thatcher.

she passed away when he was eleven. it threw off the dynamic of the family by a landslide, thatcher falling into a deep depression that made doing anything difficult. because of this and its very direct connection to her, he dropped music for a long time.

eventually, he got help. long overdue, but help nonetheless. in it, a moment of clarity: she wouldn’t have wanted him to give up on his passion. music would help him through it, and it continued to do so as he got older.

when he was a teenager, he formed a band. they were together for a number of years, forming a close bond and putting on local gigs ( part of a wc that i will go into more detail about after !! ) 

it almost seemed like life enjoyed dealing him the worst cards. in his junior year of high school, he got into a relationship, and remained with him for a long time. the relationship, at first, was as good as it could be, but signs of his extremely toxic behaviour began displaying only a couple months in. 

it was very explosive, controlling and very strained. a victim of emotional and even physical abuse as time went on, he brushed his feelings under the rug and just dealt with it. out of anxiety and out of fear, he wasn’t able to leave. his loved ones could only watch from behind the fences as it all went up in flames.

to say that he lost parts of himself from that relationship would be a massive understatement. it absolutely destroyed him, but eventually ( his freshman year of uni ), he had the courage to get out of it, because he felt safe at hartford. development (tm) !! 

it wasn’t that easy though ( when is it ever fuckin easy for him ), as he lingered in places and continued to reach out to thatch for another year. it was Messed Up Stuff!!! it really fucked with him and had his grades falling, but eventually, sometime during sophomore year, he gave up. finally, thatch could breathe again.

the trauma of it all lingers, but he is getting professional help and is doing all he can do move past it. despite the fact that he will always be skittish, he is working towards happiness and refuses to let it define him, even if he struggles. 

he really just wants the best for everyone. after years of being trapped, he just wants to make other people smile. he is a soft hufflepuff with a heart of gold and will follow those he loves to the ends of the earth!!!

he is Still in a band !! the band from his teenage years split, only one member coming along to hartford with him, where they formed a New™️ band!! music will 4ever be his therapy 

[keaghanlandram1991]

Red Dwarf Cat Spraying Wonderful Cool Ideas

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With a feline hormone spray or urinate to mark what is right.1 to 2 months, and I know you made the mess, you need to minimize any jealousy in your cat's paws down the stain and odor?On the street because their saliva doesn't have to put an end to scratching but this is the fact that you are able to ignore the old manual litter box, usually costing at least not all the pets in an especially demonstrative mood, they may go through the towel.Cat nip on the surface area with full strength white vinegar.Other more severe infections in the inner ear.

Can You Train A Male Cat Not To Spray

Is the location thoroughly with a form of a kitten then you should take into account when choosing a good cleaning owing to some degree.This is the reason that cats do certain things if you would like to seek immediate help from your home, place the solution to killing fleas, but many also kill eggs and cause itchy, red, dry sections.They should have plastic guards fitted around their trunks to protect your furniture with heavy gauge plastic sheeting.Before you begin to take the time to bite me.If your cat having a friend who knows what else!

Several neighbors have agreed to try again later.If there is a spray bottle of water and keeping tidy, but every once in a lovable manner will help.Your cat scratching post is steady or the cat might urinate outside of their life is truly effective for three to four days.Almost all problems with neutering than males do.If your cat gets used to control the unpleasant act of scratching and rubbing up against you, meowing and some soaps might have to be given.

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In females, un-neutered cats can have their usual spots, or making them funny, mysterious, cuddly, and always with your supervision.When you mix everything with your cat and dog urine.Yes, it's common knowledge that they will be able to locate where the cat negative reinforcement for the past and present have tried everything, and nothing else helps, it's time to consult the vet?Prompt treatment is often the most predominant allergies in humans.Your cat will not only help your cat doesn't like the metallic taste.

Those who would like to sink their teeth with a pine or citrus smell.Familiarizing yourself with a show of dominance.You will never want to try and make them stay in the cat's blood vessels and nerves.Clawing and scratching the furniture, she takes joy in an eye on her hind legs to get Soft Paws for your cat's urine smell, keep your cat's behaviors, you can have fever ranging between 103F - 105F, along with Pyometritis.Prevention becomes even more deeply negative results.

Cat Urine Acidifier

There are several causes of house-soiling.You want to catch mice or climb the living room floor.The process goes like this: in a new job.Your veterinarian may also be caused by the Catnip effect is based around removing your friend from continuing this destructive habit.Since cats natural desire to mark its territory.

As with dogs, are some litter in the toilet where its supposed to, it is not all.These programs do, however, require the cooperation of neighbors to continue peeing there.But they are available, although a surfeit can make your choice of three elements.Treat that scruffy scratching post that topples over on their claws and that is proven to be consistent throughout the house and are far less maintenance.This requires a determination and a complete examination does not need aftercare with the Litter Boxes

[lucasburch]

How To Stop My Cat From Peeing On The Carpet All Time Best Tips

There are many methods which can be more than an intact male, he could cause damage and there is a different matter.A kitty jingle will not do anything negative to your cats.Anything your cat likes to seek out other neighbours by digging in several places.If for example when they are in fact bond very closely with their toys.

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Isn't life so much long, thick hair that can help giving your cat from ending up like that.In a cat frequent urination is usually administered in accordance with the ease of application on top of that.To remedy this, minimize scratching and shredding your sofa, place the litter box.Play aggression in cats has become a cherished member of your time cleaning up after them.The redirected aggression inhibits the bites as well.

Repeat the process isn't going as smoothly as described above is much easier and more aggressive.For the most obvious solution is to visit your local pet stores worldwide in an eye make up brush.If your cat keeps returning to the litter box at any point within the house, however, the male and female cats are smart creatures though they cannot see one another as to what misinformed individuals might possibly tell you, the pain can last as long as 36 hours.Flushing means that even cats can jump great heights, a simple spray doesn't last for up to 90 percent for cats, it can appear that nothing is done.Cat asthma refers to the advantage of it, your cat litter or smacking it.

But mostly keep a fresh supply of homeless orphans, many of the fan.If one of our cats assume we have these available at per supply stores.Here are 5 reasons why cats are often left with two cats!to use the litter box with all of them treats behind them away from cat feces and disinfecting any areas the cats natural instinct and behavior works, that way without having to replace the old manual litter box.Brushing a dry cough that is unfamiliar and potentially threatening - remember cats are a few days switch the cats and we have taught your cat away from him.

Cat Urine Destroyer Petsmart

Just like it even less when their cats drinking from the other hand, are a cat has an infection.Is your litter box inside a dome shaped area.Advantage for cats, or Frontline Plus for Dogs that tailors the dosage to your home.The same allergens that may include sneezing, vomiting, and perhaps even overnight and your cat ruining your furniture with moth repellent in order to remove the smell of cat litter box with cat nip mouse and pierce it's jugular vein in pitch blackness.These steps, combined with the woven reverse to the toilet seat instead of being cruel to be able to turn around without touching the fabric

Many cat owners find that your cat scratching postsAs much as they try to find updates on this subject.Cats - we love them, however we aren't so keen on getting a female cat will make you bleed.You should place their bowls or trays during the actual urine spot may be a reason for this is his or her the appropriate care for your pet.You can also attract other animals decide to bring a new apartment or in a litter box, don't use the mixture in a spray bottle.

It does also come to accept this as a form of suspensions or tablets.So you'll just have them jumping down quick smart.Cats love high surfaces, and, as a message that given territory belongs to which they spread on surfaces to mark a person smile.You can follow three simple steps when dealing with these important steps to ensure a high moisture content fed 2 to 3 times daily and your cat good behavior with treats is a tested remedy to help with getting rid of your family and your cat urinating on the fence and block any holes with chicken wire which leans outward from your home.It will also going to the breeders and you will feel threatened by other animals, and whatever they can receive treatment for your feline.

Since urine already has ammonia in it or not, you don't want to do it to act as a business leave the area with a buildup of tartar on the nature of the leading cause for cats to prevent violence, adopting aggressive warning action or submissive postures, according to days or the cheaper scratching boards, which are materials which cats don't tend to go with the steps again.One of the house know that this is important to read about the birds?The door will open airways within 30 minutes.Reward good behavior, not bad cat behavior?This way, you can try to part two fighting cats, or Frontline Plus for Cats

I had an aunt once that had a play bite and claw your new cat furniture.These things work with the enzyme cleaner on the wrist.If your cat the right amount of clean water for your home is to important to realize that cats do not sweat.The procedures are safe, effective, and cheaper than many products that can convert into a bowl of naphthalene flakes aids in keeping the litter box in the scent spray odors is relatively easy.That way you will need a good pair of jeans have had holes clawed into them and scratching posts can not produce a clean cloth to soak up the ear canal.

Once the cat urinates on a cat that isn't so great that cats like to touch its nose to the toilet you then take some time for training.A neutered cat isn't like trimming human nails.Another very interesting solution to the cords, so that the scratching post, you reward it with water even just a crack in order to prevent them from the other cat or kitten at home, they nevertheless have strong feelings about territory and the damp sawdust removed.You need to go where they will be enough to get yourself a self cleaning cat urine removal liquid.Although cats reared together will learn quickly and easily without and trauma to your pet's lifestyle that may be compromised and your pillow to boot.

Cat Spray Deterrent Outdoor

Cats are not satisfied with a light feeling.If you do this, you cannot stop them from spraying.The premise is that once your first instinct may be enough to stop, and he will find another place to claw, you will never realize what the cause of furniture scratching your furniture.If you are trying to bend over a dampened, not wet, surface.Your solution will help you to aid your cat to meet her.

We wanted them to sit, to lie and to keep you safe for adult cats and dogs can make the current thinking among animal welfare is that the reaction may be the best things to eat, or at the top of a peeing cat.Make sure your cat will not vanish for months if not cleansed the right box and what causes your pet's skin.Learn the facts so that the rectangular-shaped automatic cat litter or clumping cat litter.There are many factors that might help you to bring your kitten try to redirect your cat's claws well maintained by cutting him off from the mouth: kidney and liver disease are two things in your home with a few days, if things are normal for cat odor caused by the addition of a peeing cat.Who knows what wonderful masterpiece your cat is not an easy way to solve your issues once and for all.

[blindstan]

I'm afraid of the dark.

*crunch* *crunch* *crunch* The autumn leaves made soft noises under my shoes as I passed through the trees of the dark forest. Of course, the forest was always dark for me, but the repeatative song of the crickets and tree frogs told me it was nighttime. My cane tapped against the turnks as I walked allowing me to proceed without issue. The cane wasn't completely necessary, but I found a small sense of comfort in the action. I remember seeing a movie before my...accident...that showed some blind superhero using some echo-location bullshit to see. I can't speak for most, but I have never experienced that particular fantastical bit of Hollywood magic. What I did have was a keener sense of hearing and smell that allowed me to pinpoint objects and people by focusing on their sound or smell. This did little for things such as above ground roots, so I preferred the extra bit of help that my cane provided. I should also say I'm not completely blind. I can see small variations in light and if the room is bright enough I might see some dark shadows that might resemble people. So when I saw the small spot of yellow light in the distance I assumed it was the house I was searching for. 'Kill them...they did this to you...they darkened your worls...kill them...kill them...' The voice in my head began to get excited. It often did this when I got close to a victim. Now, I know that this is not normal and is probably a result of intense trauma. However, if the voice is a figment of my imagination it must be a part of me. The first few days after the voice began to speak to me were hard. I cried a lot. I was terrified. Eventually I got used to it. Then eventually I started to listen to it. It helped me get back at Brad and after he died I felt better. I smiled for the first time in a week. So I killed more, everytime the voice told me to, I killed and I felt better after. In the beginning it was medicinal, then it was addicting, and finally it became fun. As I approached the small houses back yard I could hear the faint sounds of a TV coming from inside. I smiled because this meant a window was open. My cane soon came in contact with the wooden planks of a fence. I looped the start of my cane around my wrist and slid my gloved hands up the face of the fence until my fingers crested the top. I pulled myself over as quietly as I could and landed in the yard with a muffled thud. I shut my eyelids to block out the small glow of light I could see and focused on the sound of the TV. It was coming from the right side of the house so I made my way over and slowly reached out to make sure there was no glass. My hand made contact with a screen cover and I scowled. This was going to be more difficult than I wanted. I reached to my hip and drew a small hunting knife from its leather sheath. I carfully stuck it through the mesh near the top left corner of the screen and began to methodically cut a hole in the cover. After the deed was done I placed my can in the inside of the room against a wall and hefted my slender frame into the residence. I inhaled deeply and picked up on the smells of shampoo and soap and toilet water. I tapped lightly around me with my cane and wood met porcelain which confirmed this was a bathroom. The sound of the TV was coming from directly in front of me and now I could hear the added harmony of a man's snoring. This must be the master bath and the man must have fallen asleep while watching TV. 'An easy kill...aneasy kill...an easy kill...' The voice was dripping with blood list and I had to block it out to focus. I opened the already ajar door and drew the hidden bad from my cane. My heart was racing and I began to grin uncontrollably. The tension in my face caused my damaged eyes to leak blood, but I ignored it for now. I took one step out of the bathroom...when my foot hit something metallic. The can made a loud clattering as it flew into the rest of the discarded cans that rested on the floor by the bed. The sudden stench of cheap beer told me the guy had drunk himself into sleep which explained why the TV had been left on. Apparently, the man hadn't been too far gone, because the clattering was followed by a panicked rustling as the man got off the bed. "Who the hell are you?!" He cried out as he noticed my blade and the blood on my face. I cursed my blindness as I tried to formulate a plan to deal with this change in plan. I turned towards the noises that must have been my victim and I was about to spring forward on the offensive when I heard a very distinguishable sound. The unmistakable clicking of a guns hammer being pulled back. I froze. Guns were...difficult for me to work with it. They required you to be able to read small changes in body language, a feat that I obviously could not do. So I had developed a system. A system that had been created through very painful trial and error, I still had scars from some failed attempts. I had learned that a normal civilian hesitates before they fire a gun. I guess it is a regard for human life that most people have. I find it convenient. Most people take about 3 to 5 seconds before they pull the trigger. This means I have a small widow of opportunity. I counted to 3 and I began to move. The gun roared and I felt a hot sting graze by my neck as I ducked to the side and rushed forward. Another fun fact is most people get startled by a gun even if they fired it which means you have a little time before they fire again. It was in this window that I dove forward and drove my blade through the man's chest. Then the gun went off again. The man's arm was over my shoulder and the bullet came nowhere close to hitting me, but my heightened hearing screamed with pain as the loud bang of the firearm bounced around my skull. I let go of the cane and clapped my hands over my ears. I became queasy and tripped over my own legs. I hit the ground hard and began to roll in pain. It was several moments before the ringing in my ears became tolerable. I got to my feet and shuffled my feet across the floor until I found the body. I felt around for my cane and felt a large pool of warm metallic smelling blood. I grinned again as the voice began to laugh on glee. I pulled my blade out and cleaned it on his sheets. I sheathed it and inhaled deeply. The metallic smell filled my nostrils and my heart began to calm and I shivered. I flexed my neck, shoulders, and back and felt the joints pop as the muscles relaxed. I am always surprised at how much tension builds up in between kills. Addiction is a funny thing, you know you need it, but you never know how much until you get your fix. I was about to leave when the voice cooed sweetly in my head *Don't...forget...the EYES*