#It's already watered and fed and tended to simply through their existence

[schmweed]

[dorimena]

Dont know if you like this sort of things but , Do you ever think about shoto being pampered by you and becoming so soft around you ? Like, litteraly. Softer thighs, a lil roll on his tummy , hips softer to grab when pegging him.. etc just, all the care and the freedom to indulge showing in his facial expression, the way he moans loudly and the way his body looks.

I’m just in love with the idea of him a lil soft because he’s well taken care of and blushing embarrassed and turned on when you undress him and praise him for being so good and looking so good , you know ?

(I would absolutely die to read your writing of softer submissive Shoto)

I do like this sort of thing (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) I haven’t actually put much thought into it, but soft Todoroki unlocks a whole new sex experience, just so full of passion and love he’s never felt before, and he just feels so warm and melts everytime you praise him-

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Todoroki Shoto

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 896

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; implied fem!reader, mommy kink, mentioned multiple orgasms, praise, stripping, drooling, dom!reader, sub! character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; soft Shoto, he’s being well-fed, mentioned Todoroki family members, aged-up character, Todoroki is 20+

𝕾𝖔𝖋𝖙 𝕻𝖊𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖙

Todoroki has put on some weight.

Okay, no, he’s simply gotten softer in areas he never thought he’d see be soft, not since he was a child.

He’s been on medical leave for some time now, ever since a battle against a villain kind of went downhill, but you’re glad he’s safe, especially him given his days of recovery under your shared roof rather than piling up unnecessary bills.

Well, okay, that’s not the reason why you’re glad he’s here sitting on the couch, eating some oatmeal he, for some reason, craved.

You’re glad because you can finally, finally, take care of him properly and shower him in love and affection you never found the opportunity or chance to do.

Sure, you’ve always cuddled him when he needed it, snuggled up to him to help lull him to sleep after rough nights, peppered him in kisses any given moment, simply spoiled him with lots of attention.

But never did you find the opportunity to actually cater to his needs:

He wants water? Here you go.

He wants milk tea? Here you go.

He wants cookies? Here you go.

He wants cold soba, just the way he specifically likes it? Here you go.

The word ‘no’ doesn’t exist, excluding sex and dangerous situations.

So with you catering to his needs and wants, necessities and desires, while being under the order to relax and allow his body to heal itself, you bet he’s gained a softer image.

He’s banned from going to the gym, and if he goes to the agency, his secretary or a sidekick keeps an eye out to make sure he doesn’t react to last-minute missions or emergencies.

You’re thankful so many other people care for him and about him, and how often his family seem to visit. Well, Fuyumi and Natsuo, on the rare occasion he is able to tag along, step through the door, but even with Shoto making amends with his father still, the older male mostly just drops off whatever he came to leave and heads back to work. Rei also visits from time to time, to the utter delight of both you and Shoto.

And in one of her latest visits, she dropped off some cute pastries she found on display. Shoto’s been mostly indulging in them, to your heart’s delight.

But then a few days later, and you catch Shoto staring at his body from the mirror, turning and checking all the small yet noticeable changes on his body. Your heart aches at his disappointment and pout, at the way his eyes already hold such a critical gaze that you realize what you haven’t been doing for such a long while.

When was the last time you’ve fucked him?

He was forbidden from going to the gym and training, but you’re sure sex isn’t out of the question. You’d just have to be more gentle, maybe not so fast.

You don’t really sneak up on him, he can hear and recognize your footsteps. But he startles when you wrap your arms around him from behind, placing your hands on his soft tummy and caressing the skin, tracing your name and your confessions of how much you love him. He can’t make it out, but the way you touch him has him letting out a shaky sigh, one that sounds so sad that you plant a kiss on his back.

Your hands go to his hips, squeezing them before you pull down his sweatpants, along with his boxers. Your eyes and his are on the mirror, watching how more and more of his skin begins to show and you feel how he’s trying to hide himself, try to cover up what he’s beginning to resent.

Not on your watch.

“Baby, get on the bed.”

And Shoto’s speaking gibberish after a while, his body rocking forward and back as you pound into him. He would’ve preferred you go faster, but he knows that it’s because you don’t want to hurt him.

He’d usually feel hurt, but right now? He feels like he’s glowing, whether because of your amount of praises over his new body and how much cuter he is, or because of the orgasm he was brought to a few seconds ago.

You angle your hips a certain way, rolling them as you try to reach him deeper and deeper, feeling him tremble under your hands as his hips twitch with every thrust, his plush thighs straining as they try not making him fall forward.

You’re not being as hard as you tended to be before his accident, yet he feels just as weak, even if his third orgasm is not even building as strong yet.

His drool is beginning to soak the bed, his eyes blinking back small tears as soft, high-pitched moans of what you think is “mommy” start growing louder. One of his hands near his head, gripping the sheets, slowly reaches towards his dick, whining in satisfaction as he times his strokes to your thrusts.

“You’re so good, baby.”

“Always my good boy.”

“You’re beautiful, yeah?”

“Love your softness, baby.”

“Mommy’s pretty boy, forever and always.”

And if Shoto cumming at that last sentence isn’t romantic enough for you, then him placing a hand on yours while thanking you through his happy tears should show you how much of a romantic your baby boy could be.

[rjhpandapaws]

Hey Panda! Congratulations on hitting the new milestone! Dunno if it’s still time to ask for a prompt, but if it is, I would love to see you write Simarkus first argument with a fluffy ending, please! Thanks and have a nice day! ^^

//Another first fight. This will be fun!! // @sheyshocked I didn’t mean to publish this blank! //Best read while listening to Battle Cries by the Amazing Devil

It was a long time coming he supposed looking back, that he and Simon would fight. They had fallen together in the midst of a revolution that neither one believed they would survive, and well, when you don’t think you’re going to survive, communicating with your partner isn’t the highest of your priorities. Except they had survived, and Markus’s ability to communicate hadn’t gotten any better. This started out small, as they always did. Signs and signals that were easy to miss if you didn’t know to look for them. Simon had always been surrounded by humans and learned to mimic them, so a lot of his displeasure came across in his body language, not his words, and Markus, for all the good he had done their movement, was not the greatest at reading the room. Carl voiced his displeasure, North did the same, Josh would make an effort to solve it on his own; and Simon, for whatever reason kept it to himself. The first of it started in the odd calm after the revolution, They were in free fall, and Markus scrambled to make a list of things that they wanted met in their personhood. Then came all of the legal meetings and the press, he took Josh with him, he was better at this than the rest of them. That, and he loved red tape situations for whatever reason. He had unintentionally pulled away from Simon, and return Simon had done the same.

The thing was Markus had known none of this at the time. He hadn't known that there was something that needed fixed. Simon was just quiet and Markus had chalked it up to stress. After all of something was wrong he would have said something right? And he did, close to a year on after the revolution, things had slowed down some, but Markus hadn’t, and if he had to guess Simon was getting tired of coming in last on his list of priorities. Which looking back, had been unfair to him. Markus knew that now. “Markus?” Simon asked one evening, “If you have time could we talk?” He was polite, as he always tended to be. Now he knew it had been hesitation. “Of course. I always have time for you.” Markus said setting aside the stack of papers and turning to face Simon. He didn’t miss the ice that passed through those blue eyes. “I was thinking about taking a little time on my own.” Simon said without looking at Markus, “Away from Jericho, I feel out of place here.” Markus had to stop for a moment to process this. After everything they had accomplished, Simon just wanted to leave? “Do  you mind my asking why?” “You don’t need me here, didn’t really need me during things either if I’m honest.” He met Markus’s eyes for that one, and if the words hadn’t hurt enough on their own, the distance in his eyes would have done the job, “Everything is just you North and Josh. Now that we aren’t about to die at every turn you don’t need me anymore, so I thought -” There was static at the edge of his voice. Ever since being brought back his vocal processor tried to give out if he got too emotional, “I thought I could find a place where I was needed.”

“You are needed here, there are things we need you for.” Markus replied, “Morale, you help when there are humans or injure-” “Outside of the movement Markus. For once, can you maybe think about something else? Someone else?” Simon pleaded, “You never talk to me anymore if it isn’t about this. During the revolution you always said that after it ended, if we survived, we would get away from all of this. That we would find a place of our own. We survived Markus, I don’t know if you noticed that, and the only thing you’ve gotten away from is me.” “That isn’t true. I know I - We’ve been busy, but I haven’t forgotten you Si, just a little longer, that’s all I’m asking.” Markus pleaded, but he knew the answer even before Simon spoke. “When Markus?” He said flatly, “When you’ve solved the problems of each android ever made? When you’re done being seen as a hero? Or perhaps when all of this red tape gets cleared up? A year Markus, it has been a year and you haven’t talked to me about anything other than this damned movement!” There was a garble of static that Markus figured was supposed to be words, but Simon was too lost to say them, “A year since you told me you loved me.” Those last words hit him like a physical blow and Markus wanted to argue, but the thing was he couldn’t remember, “Simon, I’ve be-” “Been busy, I know.” Came the faintly static reply, “But that is exactly my point. Maybe we should put whatever this was meant to be on hold, until you can figure this out, because I can’t keep throwing myself at a wall Markus; not again; not even for you. I did this once already and its how I wound up in that boat to begin with, and it is certainly not how I wish to spend the rest of my life.”

Before Markus could reply he was gone. Markus stared at the doorway where he had been standing. He could remember those moments clearly. The nights and other moments when it was relatively safe and they could breathe, those times when they dared to dream about the world after the revolution. Promises that he ad every intention to keep, promises that had had gotten buried beneath paperwork and an image put on him by the rest of the world. He had, in small but certain steps forgotten about Simon. It was too late to admit that because the security system had already announced his absence, and even then, he had asked for space. Markus could give him that. They both had things to think about. Simon what he wanted out of life, and Markus about where exactly he had lost his. He hadn’t expected being alive to be so much work. North was good at handling politicians, and Josh’s dream job was apparently was to be nested in piles of paperwork. If Markus would only let him he would be doing this in his place, but apparently he was so used to being The Revolutionary now that he hadn’t been able to set it aside. For all it had gotten him, he had just lost the one thing he had been fighting for. Their right to life, to exist, to be able to feel, all so he could love without being killed, except he had pushed away the one person he had fought the world for. Losing Simon the first time had been hard, but this was worse. He knew that outside the house Simon was still well, but this time he just didn’t want to be neat him. Alive and well, but no where near him. He sighed quietly and looked back at the daunting pile of paperwork. Was this really what he wanted? Politics until his thirium pump rolled over and gave out? Is this what he wanted to make of the sacrifices made for him? He knew the answer to all of that, it was a resounding no. What he wanted was the life he had dared to dream of when hunched in an empty box car with Simon.

 He lasted until midnight, not that he had gotten anymore work done of course. No, he had simply been staring at the door trying to find where things had gone so wrong. Where along the way he had exchanged his happiness for in image. Where in all of this he had lost Simon. It was so gradual and slow going that he couldn’t find the exact moment he had lost Simon, it still felt too much like he had been there one moment and gone the next; but he knew when he started pulling away. It was around the six month mark, right when Markus’s political career took off. When the paperwork had buried him and Simon along with it. Made a wall that was somehow both feebly thin and impossible to get through. Lost in translation as they said. He made his way to the shipyard to think. It was the place he went to ground himself. He hadn’t expected to see Simon there. Standing at the dock’s edge looking out over the wreckage in the slow rain that always seemed prevalent this time of year. But there he was, looking out over the water like it somehow held the answers, and Markus could understand why. In an ironic sense, things had seemed easier then, when they hadn’t thought they were going to make it out. Carl had said things about that on many occasions, when he got fed up with his own condition. They varied from profound to concerning depending on how sober he was; but Markus’s favorite had always been that life was the most beautiful when you were under the impression that it would end before you got to live it. Markus supposed that was true. His moment of reprieve was broken by Simon himself. “If you have something to say please say it, your just standing there is creepy.” He didn’t look away from the water as he spoke, and Markus couldn’t blame him.

“I want to apologize if you’ll let me.” He replied, “I didn’t notice that I had lost you along the way Simon. I always told myself that after the next thing I would be done, each new thing that came up was meant to be the last. I didn't realize what I was doing to you and I’m sorry. I know it’s probably to little too late, and I can’t promise that this but of legislation will be the last, but I promise to let Josh handle more of it from here on out. I don’t want to lose you again.” Simon did look at him eventually, no doubt searching to see if these promises would be empty too, “That will have to be enough then won’t it. Just talk to me this time Markus, tell me what you are thinking. I can’t read your mind despite my best efforts.” He took a few steps to close to the distance, “Just don’t forget me this time.” Markus rested his forehead against Simon’s “Never again.” He promised.

(Prompt from this list)

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2021 Prompt #20 - Petrichor

Raktapaska screeched and broke, dissolving into raw aether lifting into the air. But before the Warrior of Light and her conveniently gathered companions could celebrate (The bard had just pulled their horn up to blow on it), there was the crack of thunder.

"What was that? Ramuh returned?" asked Ryne, suddenly worried.

Urianger shook his head knowingly, "Nay, lightning doth not exist solely in the realm of magicks and primals. With the revitalization of wind and fire as well as the lighting and water from before, 'twould seem the aether has resolved itself as a storm."

Thancred scratched his head, "Now that you mention it, it really has been five years of nothing but occasional light rains and all of that damn light otherwise. Were there no storms since Xiao brought down all of those Lightwardens?"

"As I observed many times whence watching the skies yon the Waking Sands, storm clouds tend to grow in strength and power o'er the seas and expend themselves o'er the land. There simply was not enough sea or elemental aether afore now for more than a passing rain."

"Should Xiao be out there for this?" Gaia asked.

As the gathered adventurers marveled at the storm, a bolt of lighting struck the arena, causing several to panic and scatter.

"Nay, they should return posthaste!"

* * *

As the storm headed to Norvrandt, Ryne, Gaia, Thancred, Urianger, and Xiao returned to camp, finding it ruined. They'd need to repitch the tents and gathered the swept away supplies. Thancred's craft was flooded.

"Wait, what is that smell?" Gaia looked around, trying to discern its source.

"Some of the dried foodstuff may have gotten wet and--" Thancred took a whiff, "Oh, you mean that smell all around us?"

"Ah, I smell it too now! It's lovely, is it not?" Ryne looked over to Gaia for confirmation.

"Aye, 'tis the way dried earth will smell after a good rain. Our work is nearing completion." Urianger turned in place with his hands extended to demonstrate what work he meant. One could argue he was briefly happy instead of brooding or stodgy.

The Warrior of Light said something about geos something or other. The rest were not quite sure what she meant. Possibly it was a miner thing?

Gaia looked out to Eden, "I suppose, but why does it bring up nostalgic thoughts?"

"'Tis said that the sense of smell is the most ancient sense we mortals have, and thus it is tied with the deepest parts of our brain, the parts associated with half forgotten memories."

Thancred looked out back at where Amh Araeng would be, the crystalline wall of aether but a small line in the distance, "Perhaps not just half forgotten memories."

* * *

The storm hit Amh Araeng first, scattering merchants and miners both. But at The Inn at Journey's Head, many of the patients, no matter their degree of tempering, seemed to gaze their heads up in wonder.

Alisaie danced in the rain until she was fed up with being soaked and then raced for shelter, laughing all the while, it had been years since she last suffered to act on such a childish whim, but ah! What an occasion. The first good storm after a year of living in Norvrandt! As she breathed deep, recovering from her exertion, she thought of Tesleen, and well, it was good her face dripped with rain water.

She went looking for a towel.

* * *

It hit the Crystarium next, and a century of no weather besides light were starting to show its cracks. Or rather leaks. The Quadrivium was flooding! Craftsfolk raced to cover their works and stack the moisture sensitive lot higher up and deeper under the already-soaked-through canopies. The forges had extinguished themselves and so many blueprints were at the risk of ruin.

The grounds turned all muddy and the amaro and chocobo were all miserably wet. And it was only the quick thinking of a few able hands that the Hortorium escaped disaster. But despite all of this panic, the mood in the Crystarium was high. What an experience! It was a mediocre storm by historical accounts, but it was still the storm of a century for a century without storms.

The Exarch looked out at the grounds and breathed in the hustle and bustle. He smiled inwardly as he thought of the long road they had taken. After so long fighting and struggling to make a difference, it seemed as though it was all paying off finally. The First will be restored, and his life's great work will be finished.

* * *

The storm could be seen moving across the land at Eulmore and across Kholusia, and people gawked and gasped at the show of flashes and the distant rumble that followed. The scent of the sea overpowered anything that may have drifted over from the storm kissed mainland, but they had more to look forward to than backwards at.

By the time it had reached the Rak'tika Greatwood, the storm had lost a lot of strength, but still made a good showing. The Viis came out to dance with the Night's Blessed outside the Ox'Dalan Gap. The usual humidity and moisture in the air from the lake and swamps were replaced with the refreshing cold of the rain. For them, it was another day in a continuation of days, a remarkable one, perhaps, they would share stories of this on future nights, but all the same.

For Y'shtola, listening to the rain outside was nostalgic, but she had not the time nor temperament currently to run out to join the rest of the Night's Blessed. There was just... too much stuff to organize and pack away. She sighed deeply. She was really turning into Master Matoya, wasn't she. She thought of the ones that she was about to leave behind, for it was inevitable that she would leave them behind, either happily or tragically.

Runar... that was a conversation she was not ready to have, and every morning (now that there were proper mornings) she awoke by his side, she pushed the conversation further into the future. He would want her to stay, and her relationship with Xiao just confused and hurt him. She didn't want him to compare himself, but how could he not? She was as brilliant as the sun and all else paled like the moon in front of her. Y'shtola was ready to say she was perhaps in love, but she so deeply loved Runar as well.

Was her heart not to beat for two just because other hearts did not?

* * *

As the storm began to peter out, it at last arrived in Il Mheg. It roused Seto. It was pleasant. In his old age and large size, it may have well been a hard shower. How long it had been since he dived into the deep with Ardbert on his back! Oh the adventures they had! He shook out both pairs of wings and then kept them spread, feeling the rain fall on all appendages. How long had it been since he last got caught in such a storm and had Ardbert and his friends shelter beneath his wings in quite the same way! Alas, he was not as large then, so a poor shelter he made, but lo, he was ready and waiting to fill the role at this new opportunity.

A few of the youngest amaro came to huddle and shiver under his wings, as they were the only ones that would fit. It was not nearly the same, but Seto accepted it. He closed his eyes and breathed in his fond remembrances.

* * *

The storm died out at last somewhere north of Il Mheg, before it crossed over to the Empty again. There, coincidentally, a figure manifested himself out of the void. He looked around, kicked the wet soil at his feet as if to test out moving them, and glanced at his outstretched arms and body. Yes. This will do. It was a perfect irony. He breathed deep to fill lungs that hadn't been used in a century, then reflexively turned around to address--

No one. There was no one behind him. Why would there be anyone behind him?

He was struck with distant regrets that he could not place.

The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day.

But--

He shook his head to clear it. Why were those words rising to mind unbidden?

No matter. The Warrior of Light had to rise again to undo the damage to the Great Work that the Warriors of Darkness had wrought. There was much to do and so little time to do it in. The aether was tipping precariously away from calamity.

He had his duty.

[wafflewarriors]

The Not-So-French Mistake

Chapter 6: Crossroads Angel

Sydney was seated on an ashy bench when Dean found her. “Appreciate my sobriety, kid. That,” he said, “was rough.”

He lazily watched people scatter into their sectioned camps. He briefly wondered if being an angel was like this, but dismissed the thought. Being an angel wasn't about supervision; Castiel was a warrior of heaven―not a babysitter. “Where did they get tents and sleeping bags? Half the city was fried extra crispy.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she wrinkled her face at an intruding thought that haunted her. “Why do I get the feeling that we're losing? Guns won't do squat if this thing is an angel or a demon. No, scratch that―anything you guys hunt can't be killed with a regular bullet. This is pointless!”

Dean considered it and then shrugged, unaffected. “They're townspeople. We can't do much except shield them from whatever evil gets in the way. False hope is better than no hope at all.” He watched tent lights flicker off for sleep. “You can't expect them all to catch on. They weren't born into it.”

She protested, “But I wasn't born into this and look at me!”

“I'm not so sure about that, Sunshine.” He lifted an eyebrow. She was a smart cookie, Dean would give her that, but something told him that her abilities ran deeper than quick learning, and he believed his gut. He said, “Back at the house―those were some fast reflexes. And the way you just knew how to load a gun? Sorry, but it's kind of fishy.”

“It was instinct!”

“Tootsie, that was muscle memory. I know it when I see it.” He almost pitied her ignorance. “I’m betting the thing that brought you here also toyed with your memory.”

She fumed at the outrageous idea. “My memory is perfectly fine!”

His face tightened into a knowing expression. “You said you watched our show, Supernatural, yeah?”

“Yes. Why is this―?”

“You remember Zachariah?”

“...Yes,” she said cautiously.

“Then you'll know he implanted fake memories into our brains and tricked us into believing we weren’t hunters to prove our ‘worth’ and other manipulative bull crap. Angels can do that. It’s not difficult for them.”

Her entire expression darkened, and she deflated. “Then... who am I?”

Dean was rarely sympathetic, but she looked so lost. “Hey, relax. I just didn't want you going into this clueless.” He planted a firm hand on her shoulder in distant comfort. It was seldom Dean was even this consoling.

She gave a distracted, sullen nod, staring at the dirt illuminated in rosy hues as the sun departed from the sky. Faded scarlet light danced along the tents as a sliver of the sun began to disappear altogether.

Dean frowned at her response. God, she was sulking. Now she was reminding him of Sammy. “Hey, don't get pouty on me. Save the tears, please,” he said.

Heat pooled behind her eyes. She blinked them back. Crying in front of Dean Winchester was not on her bucket list. “What do they want with me?” The waver in her tone was poorly hidden.

He patted her back, recalling the years when Sammy had suffered nightmares; this was eerily similar. “Not sure, kiddo. But I'll tell you what, I'll do my best to make sure they don't get what they want. ‘Kay?” He soothed.

“Okay.” Her voice was hushed and timid. She sniffed.

And Dean sure had a soft spot for that. “O-kay. How about you go get some sleep? Alternate-reality-traveling can really take a toll. You look tired.” He encouraged.

“Yeah...” She stood reluctantly, as though she was anxious..  “Well, um, good night.” Her awkward parting ended with quiet patter of jittery footsteps as she strode to her lone tent. 

●●●

Sydney fumbled for her flashlight with twitchy fingers, her depth perception growing progressively murky as green shadows swallowed the daylight. Artificial white reflected off the metal framework and highlighted the plastic walls. The moonlight weaved through stray branches of trees and spindly weeds, and it was threaded like a spiderweb as it hit the tent. The anticipation added to the rap of her heart, and she found herself nearing panic.

The flashlight shook in her trembling hands, and her heart battered as she unzipped the door and crawled onto her sleeping bag. She kicked off her shoes, the abrasive polyester cold on her bare feet. The sleeping bag cushioned her weight as she sat in fathomless usease. She toyed with the hem of her jean jacket, too cold to depart with it. She hugged her frame, pulling the denim further around her nervously trembling form. She laid back against her pillow, tolerating the cold that seeped into her neck with a shiver.

Terror gripped her, and doubt twisted within her gut as she frantically questioned her future plans. These thoughts had been haunting her ever since she’d been left among the townspeople, yet now the full volume of her choices were attacking her confidence. Her trust was hardly reliable. Her anxiety always led her to wrong conclusions and dubious opinions.

She knew she could still search for guidance, despite how it terrified her. She desperately wanted to consult Dean, realizing he had lifetime experience with these issues. However, she also stressed he would reject and dismiss her idea, and she would wind up never returning home. She debated her options and thought back.

The town had been a disaster before she had taken initiative, it’s residents suffering as the temperatures wavered between boiling to lava-like. The heat storm seethed with fever, and chaos insued. Sydney had taken the duty of driving the remaining citizens to shelter and leading them to somewhat safe domain: ideally spaces without the nuisance of dissolving structures. It had required time to restore their faith in rescue and to gain their trust, yet soon the town was under her supervision. This leadership was natural―like it was buried within her subconscious instinct.

Naturally, her first attempts had been spent seeking outside communication. Phones, apparently, were a vain effort within the town’s ranges. Service had been cut off, wholly dead, and electricity was hopeless, considering the electric poles had literally been fused to the sidewalk. Functional cars were scarce and burdensome to run. She gave up further contact and took to the present issues before she would return to her attempts.

Those whose conditions were more severe were tended to, and, fortunately, most were responsive inside an hour. Few actually died with their watch while under medical care. She had also allotted the more alert survivors tasks, such as passing time by searching for supplies―specifically tents, blankets, and other sleep necessities. She was mindful they would be stuck here for some time. They traveled in sets of twos or threes, confident with the possession of bottled water.

However, as they came sprinting back to the temporary camp tear-stricken, her heart sank to her feet. She was responsible, and she had already failed them. Something in her stomach went rigid and her veins chilled so that she shivered, even underneath the blazing sun. The disappearance was one level of despair, but knowing that their siblings and parents were mourning them? It was unbearable. 

She had ordered them to stay put, don't follow. Her urgency had gotten the best of her, and she was determined enough to bust into the liquified storefronts and townhomes to find them if she must. These were families, and she wasn't going to see them broken. Not by her. She already knew what those with homesickness suffered. There was nothing admirable about the experience; it was only a constant longing and anguish for those she had left.

Ever since she had traveled to this twisted world, she was confined to her loneliness and bound to her very own dejection, isolated from those she sought. She was alone now, and while the towns and rolling hills were spacious and distant, she felt claustrophobic. The world of Supernatural was suffocating her ever so slowly.

A few brave souls offered their assistance, and she didn't refuse, nor accept them. She simply allowed their presence. Tolerated them. While she had grown fond of her adopted band of survivors, she was fed up with being dished the sloppy, inferior plate of absolute garbage her life was gradually transforming into. Her investment in the television show hardly even existed! She didn't understand why she was chosen. Rage boiled within her, and she could do nothing to defuse it besides fix her mistakes. Her thoughts repeated her pitiful temper: unfair unfair unfair.

She marched off, kicking down crooked doorways and punching her way through cooled ashes just to simmer her inner distress. As she calmed, the sting of aching muscles brought her to a state of temporary peace.

The loyal followers trailing her seemed wary of her mood and kept their distance. She sent them an apologetic glance, realizing her actions were inflicting a mild fear into the already heated air. She felt the need to justify her behavior, but she was grasping at straws and excuses.

Worse, she understood why; she knew the unspoken truth. She was feisty, deft, and clever: a sore replica of the Winchester brothers, and she knew it. God, she knew it. She was practically their sister, their personalities were so comparable. She could even somewhat relate to the hunting: despite the lack monsters, she knew her way around a gun.

The rage-driven hunt slowly morphed into something of purpose. She split off from the team―reminding them to stick together; she knew she was being a hypocrite, but she couldn't bring herself to care. 

“I can help you get home,” a masculine voice said from a veil of sweeping shadows.

Sydney had been aggressively prying open a stiff, splintered door when she jerked it back in alarm, pummeling her hand onto it and stumbling as her heart skipped a beat. “Freakin’ learn to knock!” she managed to say, leaning against the wooden edge of the doorframe to regain her composure and a portion of her dignity.

“There's no need to be distressed,” the voice behind her offered, dangerously patient and bare of implications or suggestions.

Sydney turned and said to the motionless silhouette, “And why would you do that? Why would you help me get home?”

She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the deadly smirk in their words. “Because you're out of options.”

She bristled. “The Winchesters have offered to help. They're enough.”

“Are they? Two pitiful, self-sacrificing men and a hopelessly fallen angel? Castiel is useless, he can do nothing to help you,” he said, sneering. 

Cas was apparently a sore topic, and she was tempted to poke that festering wound. She contemplated the course of action, and ultimately was fond of it; he was annoying. “Castiel is the only angel I trust right now. After all, he rescued me from frying in that hotel room you angels had me locked in.” Sydney eyed the spread silver outline of his intimidating, metallic wings illuminated by the cracks in the walls. “What can you do that they cannot? They have accomplished more than you possibly could.”

He followed her gaze to his sides. “You can see my wings?” He did not seem fazed. Rather, amused. “Interesting.”

She inquired, “Yes. And why is this so out of the ordinary? Should I... not see them?”

“Humans don't have the ability to see our wings,” he said to her.

She froze, staring at the perplexing lines of plumage glowing in a hazy wisp of blue grace. The question, it appeared, was never 'who is Sydney?' but 'what is Sydney?', and that was a startling mutation of the merely concerning one. It’s one thing not to know of your past, but it's another thing to not know what you are. She felt like a foreigner in her own skin.

“Never mind that,” the angel said. “I’m your ticket back home.”

She pinched her lips, gnawing at her cheek in thought. How often had the Winchester been screwed through a deal like this? Too many, was her original thought. But what if he could actually get her home? It was extremely tempting. “What’s your price?”

“My price? I'm not a demon, girl. Deals are not made by angels.”

“But you want something anyway.”

He grinned, but it never reached the eyes quite right. “I admit, there is something you must collect in order to return to your reality.” He stiffened when a shuffle and clap of an untrained foot met a floorboard above them, creaking as her team thoroughly searched rooms. He tsked. “It is not safe to tell you just yet. Meet me here tonight when your allies are asleep. Do not fail me.”

“Wait, hey, hello, pause―can't you just snap me out? I know how angels function.”

Again, that eerie smile of his. “My grace is dwindling. Had you not noticed Castiel's crippled state? We are all weakening.”

There was a lush purr and murmur of feathers, and he had vanished.

@queen-bubble

[vankoya]

Silver Linings on Hopeless Nights.

✗ Part of the Across the Multiverse series!

Genre | Guardian Angel AU.

Pairing | Jung Hoseok / Feminine Reader.

Words | 2,744 words.

Conspectus | Every time a bad thing happens, without fail, Hoseok finds a feather. But he has not a single clue about where, or who, they come from.

Warnings | Attempted suicide mentions and depressive thoughts, but I promise this is actually really sweet and nothing bad happens.

Every time a bad thing happens, without fail, Hoseok finds a feather.

This is not something that has occurred since always. In fact, he knows the precise day that they started to appear, for it was no more than six months after he had clutched the railing of a quiet bridge with a terribly long drop onto a very frozen river.

It was the first day of January. The first 24-hours of the brand new year, and he had not prepared himself to witness what the rest of the months may hold.

Hoseok remembers the cold, trying to numb parts of him that had already been numb for months. He remembers the silence, save for the infrequent crackle and groan of the ice that he had doomed himself to fall upon. He remembers the moonlight in the frighteningly clear sky, pooling pale white on the jagged, muddy surface like a guide. An X, marking the spot.

But, above all, he remembers the voice, warmer than anything he has ever known.

“It’s not time, my love,” it had hissed so sweetly in his ear, all angry with love like a mouthful of honey fed by a scalding teaspoon. “It’s not time.”

Then, he remembers the heat wrapping around him like a muggy summer storm enclosing on a small town. And before he could even realise that he had climbed back onto the sensible side of the railing, he was already in his car, heading home. Not to the apartment in the city, but to his parents’ house in the next state over, which he had reached near five in the morning. And if him appearing on their doorstep with nothing but himself nor a single shred of warning was not enough to shake them, then him proceeding to inform them on that very doorstep that he had almost jumped, but did not, certainly was.

Things turned around after that day. Not immediately, but gradually, like the slow glide of plum preserves when poured out of a jar. Hoseok moved back to his hometown; away from the ugly memories that clung like claws to the walls of his scarcely inhabited apartment. Hoseok started working for the community garden; outside in the fresh, country air rather than the stale, unfiltered oxygen of an office as drab as an old man’s fashion sense. And there, beneath the forgiving gaze of the sun, his sickly skin started to brown like a polished bronze coin; his brown hair started to lighten, as if woven with golden thread.

He would never say it was perfect. He would not label it as recovered like a red stamp on a classified document. Somedays, the past would weigh down on him like hooks, dragging him into the depths of the sorrow that he had folded and shoved into a small box in the back of his mind. Though it was only made of cardboard, so nasty things were bound to ooze through.

Still, when those days occurred, Hoseok would remind himself of the voice. The one that was so rich with promise and adoration. The one that did not even beg him to stay, but told him with such courage that his countdown on Earth had not yet ended. He had not a clue who spoke it, or whether it was anything more than a figment of his imagination, though he would still cling to it like a handrail whenever the vehicle of his existence would swerve too harshly.

But just when he was about to convince himself that the voice was something his consciousness had created out of some last-second desperation to be saved, the feathers began to appear.

Each of them were different. Some were as small as his palm and fluffy like that of a baby bird’s, and the others would sweep as long and strong as his forearm. But they were all silver. Silver as burnished rings. Silver as stardust painted on a rural, midnight sky. Beneath the sunlight, they shimmered as though embedded with thousands of tiny diamonds, though Hoseok had inspected each individual one thoroughly enough to know better. He kept them like precious treasures in a very un-precious shoebox beneath his bed, which he would open right after he waked and right before he slept in order to ensure that they were all still there.

Still real.

Why they began to appear exactly six months after he almost subjected his soul to the void, he is still not entirely certain. Maybe it was because—the night before the first appeared on the lip of his bathroom sink—he was staring too fiercely at the razor on the soap holder that was meant for his stubble, not his wrists. Maybe it was because too much had oozed out of that tiny box and was slipping over his every thought like a heavy shadow, made for suffocating. He admits that it was his darkest blip since his knuckles had hardened like the ice below him on that bridge, so maybe, he is simply deluding himself and he does know why they came when they did.

A promise. Reassurance.

It’s not time, my love.

Yet, even now, a whole year since the feathers began to appear, Hoseok has no idea where they come from. Or, possibly, who they come from.

It is not like he has not searched. The moment a lick of silver appears in his periphery, he whips his head around at neck-breaking speed. A desperate attempt to see how the feather came to be. He tries to not let the origins of them fester in his mind and eat him up, for they are, without a doubt, supernatural. They are no commonly occurring thing for just anyone who is frequently plagued by those thoughts that linger like an eternal gloom on the horizon. As far as he can tell, at least.

He does not dare to ask his psychiatrist.

Instead, he has come to terms with being okay with not knowing. The otherworldly feathers are simply something that are unique to his person, and that is that. All that really matters is, whenever he discovers them, his mind ceases to be so weighed down like a faux fur coat in a downpour. The clouds drift apart and let the sunlight sift through to kiss and caress his skin; to scare away the shadows and fill his heart with gold.

But it is the first day of January—exactly a year after the bridge—when he discovers the truth.

No, meets it.

Meets her.

The thing is, Hoseok is having a wonderful day. For the middle of winter, the sun is generous; it spills through the clouds and onto his hometown like a bucket of pale yellow paint. He spends his morning tending to the community garden, and helps the 10-year-old twin boys who live down the street with picking strawberries for their grandmother. The afternoon is passed in his own yard, raking up the leaves that last night’s storm stripped from the oak and shook over the garden like a salt shaker. Thus, by the time that the afternoon is taking its final breaths for the day, it is safe to say that his hands are so dirtied that it seems like the soil has simply grown out of the lines of his palms.

And albeit that Hoseok’s day has been as lovely as can be, he finds that, upon washing his mud-marked hands in his sun-spilled kitchen, there is a glimmer of silver in his periphery. But when he swivels his neck at whiplash-inducing speed, as he always does, it is not to see a feather.

Not a lonesome one, at least.

Rather, there is a young woman standing just by the window that is pouring the unusual winter sunlight into the room.

A young woman with a set of very real, all-consuming, silver-feathered wings that hang about her figure like an open cage.

Standing there, with his fingertips still dripping from the running faucet, Hoseok wonders if he should pinch himself or rub his tired eyes. But there is a sense of fear about it. Not the kind that silently screeches in his ears to put as much distance between himself and the angel-like being that is mere feet away, but the kind of anxiety that nibbles nervously at his insides and roots him in place.

The kind that is frightened of her leaving him, even though he does not have the slightest clue if she is, in fact, here to snatch his soul away.

The angel-woman stares, a cocktail of surprise and affection swirling in her wide eyes, which match her wings in their glittering, silver shade. And that is what has Hoseok’s breath stuck like gum in his throat—the unadulterated adoration that caresses her features like gentle kisses. The lovingness of her gaze, which seems to be slowly registering that he can see her in all of her magnificence. And it is for this reason that he knows before she even speaks that–

“Hoseok!” she gasps, and it is the voice. The one that had wrapped around him like arms warmed by the sun. The one that had yanked him out of the darkness and silenced the warring of his thoughts.

“You,” Hoseok whispers, his bones feeling as tight as pulled strings. “You’re…”

“Oh dear, I’m a fool,” she hisses, seemingly to herself, as she presses her fingertips to her closed eyes. Hoseok, awed, can only stare in silence at the wings that shiver around her—the ones made of his precious feathers—until her hands finally drop to her sides. Her gaze settles ruefully on his face, and his ribcage suddenly sags with longing. “I’m sorry, my love. You’re not supposed to see me. Not yet. I shouldn’t have come, but you just… You looked so happy, and I couldn’t help but take a peek.”

“You’re the voice,” Hoseok continues, finally finding the words that were quietly dancing on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spoken. “The feathers… They were all you.”

She smiles, her wings stretching ever so slightly, and the sight is so radiant that Hoseok’s eyes just about water. “It would be silly of me to lie, wouldn’t it? But I may as well leave no rule unbroken, now,” she says, mirth twirling in her voice as she takes a few tentative steps towards him. The hem of her pearlescent silk dress sashays around her ankles, the tips of her wings slide against the floorboards, and Hoseok does not back away. Rather than feeling his throat close over like a fist is lodged inside of it as she nears, his buzzing nerves calm like a sea being freed from the clutches of a hurricane.

“What… Who are you? What’s your name?” Hoseok whispers as she enters his personal space, and his entire body is overcome with a peculiar sense of relief. Every inch of his being urges him to hold her, and he cannot fathom why. This close, she smells sweeter than spring rain.

She purses her lips, resembling that of a dewy rosebud. “Okay, maybe not all of the rules will be broken. The second one is a little too dangerous, but I can try and humour you with the first.” Her loosely curled fist lifts, hovering between their chests like a symbol of peace. Hoseok makes no visible sign of resistance, and it is only then that she lays her palm flat against the harmonious thud within his chest. At the tender touch, his blood sings a tune of euphoria.

“I’m the one who looks over you. Who guards you and your soul.”

Hoseok’s winged protector smiles, and her hand slides up his throat until it has settled on the side of his face. Her skin is neither hot nor cold, and that does not unsettle him as much as it should.

“Why do I feel like we’ve met?” he murmurs, willingly sinking into the familiarity of her fingertips on his cheek like cinnamon on warm butter. His heart twitches like he knows her—has known her. Long, long before she was leaving him glittering feathers and pulling him away from a drop too high to survive.

“Because we have, very long ago,” she coos, tracing the lines of his face with the care of a lover. “And someday, after you’ve lived a long, happy life, we’ll meet once more and you’ll know me better than you ever have. I promise.”

“I… I don’t understand,” he murmurs, staring right at her mouth like it is a particularly captivating piece of art. He tries to drag his gaze back to her molten silver eyes or the monstrous wings that flutter and rustle like whispers around the both of them, but he finds himself incapable.

“You’re not supposed to for now, but you will,” she says, drawing her hand up the side of his face until her fingers are able to glide through the soft curls of his hair. His scalp tingles like goosebumps. “You’re not even meant to see me, but I was careless. I’ll be punished, but it’s okay. I’m just…” She closes her eyes and breathes in deep, and then deeper, as though her lungs are the size of a lake and are impossible to completely fill. Her fingers come to rest against his throat once more, and her skin is suddenly filled with heat, scorching like the sun that kisses his skin every day. “I’m just wishing to be selfish for a moment. Is that alright? I’ve interfered enough. But please, let me be selfish, just for a moment longer.”

Her eyes, carefully, drift to his parted mouth, and Hoseok knows what she means. He feels it too, their souls urging them to wrap around each other, as though they are a single thing. And so he leans, rather than speaks. He leans, but not too far, because she meets him in the middle with thinly tamed fervency.

Hoseok cannot remember the last time he kissed another like this. Soul-devouring, all heat and love, with not a shred of resistance. Her lips and tongue are precisely like her voice: honey-sweet and burning like flames. And he thinks that he could do this for all of eternity, that he could kiss this nameless angel like there is no other meaning to life than her mouth sliding against his own. Because truly, it feels too good, too perfect, as though their lips were specifically designed to fit with one another.

But when Hoseok opens his eyes, it is to see tears slipping from between her lashes, as silver and diamond-like as her feathers.

“Live,” she whispers against his mouth, and her touch starts to fade like a breeze. But he is already forgetting her before the panic of her loss can begin to settle in.

Live long and happy, and I’ll see you at the end of it all, my love.

Hoseok... blinks into the emptiness of his kitchen. He feels foggy, as if he has woken from a midday nap that he never intended to have. But just as he is about to shake off the odd spell and go about the remainder of his afternoon, a peculiar thought comes to his mind. Peculiar, since it does not feel naturally formed. An intruder, though one that is not unwelcome.

A name, which sits in his head like a soft-spoken suggestion.

A half-hour later, he and his tongue, heavy with courage, find themselves at the florist across the road from the community garden, sweet-talking a number and a date out of the girl who makes even the most boring flowers into something outstanding. When she blushes and giggles as she glides a blue pen over a torn piece of paper, Hoseok feels his heart twist with delight. And there, with the tangerine sunset bleeding through the store’s front window, he does not notice that the knowledge of precious silver feathers in a un-precious shoebox slips from his mind, as if such knowledge was never there in the first place.

From above, where the sunlight shines brightest above the night that is slowly creeping over Hoseok’s hometown, his guardian angel—his soulmate—smiles. She has years of waiting until he is to truly step into her arms and press his mouth to her own once more, but she does not mind.

To her, a long, happy life for him is worth the decades of patience.

Prompt | Unbind Me: I’ll write a drabble about your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something along the lines. Requested by @serendipi-tae!

Note | The concept is that the guardian angels are soulmates with the humans that they protect, so when the human dies, they are united with their soulmate. But the guardian angels aren’t supposed to noticeably interfere with the lives of their human, hence why she’s being secretive.

All Rights Reserved © Vankoya. No translations, reposting and/or modifying of the following fan fiction is allowed without my permission.

[transalucardd-blog]

FEVER

Also known as: Trevor gets sick and it’s up to Adrian and Sypha to take care of him

WORD COUNT: 1183

-------------------------------

If there was one thing without dispute in all of Wallachia, it was that Trevor Belmont was the most stubborn person on the Earth. Or at least, that’s what Adrian assumed everyone knew. Because there was no way word hadn’t travelled half way across the country that Trevor was an obnoxious force to be reckoned with, and the fever that was slowly making it way through the hunters’ body was blatant proof. The runny nose, labored breaths, reddened eyes, burning skin, and a hacking cough should have been enough to put even the strongest of human men out of commission for at least a day. But not Trevor Belmont. No, he had insisted upon continuing their quest, hiking through dense trees and up rugged paths, all the while looking a step away from death.

At first, Adrian had seen Trevors actions as practically admirable, since there truly wasn’t anything more attractive than someone willing to push forward through obstacles to achieve a goal. It was the main reason Adrian had teased Trevor about how worn he looked, and even assured Sypha that there was no reason for them to stay another day in a city which no longer needed their help. But after hours of watching the man nearly black out, and countless turned down offers to sit and rest; Adrian had become entirely fed up, one more cough away from knocking the hunter unconscious and dragging him under a tree to sleep.

Thankfully, it was Sypha who had already devised a plan to get Trevor to the nearest town and in a proper bed before sun down. Adrian had to applaud her ability to take them off course and to a small village several miles away from their planned destination, and though he didn’t say anything outright, he was perfectly aware that she’d caught on to his knowledge of the plan hours before they arrived at the quaint inn. And once paid for, Trevor finally took the bait and simply assumed they were safely within the walls of the city they’d originally set out for.

Now however, Adrian and Sypha sat side by side each other on one bed, silently debating what to do as they stared over at Trevors sleeping form on the mattress across the room. His breaths were coming out in painful sounding wheezes, and although they’d hurried to get most of his clothing off and press a cold cloth to his forehead, a sheen of sweat still stuck to him that gave his dark skin a sickly hue. Adrian could hear the way Trevors heart pounded in his chest, the blood rushing through his system to fight against the infection. His heightened ability to hear was amplifying that heartbeat until it began to sound like loud drums surrounding the interior of the room. It was maddening.

“What can we do?” The dhampir finally questioned, breaking the silence between them as he forced his eyes off Trevor and turned to fully acknowledge Sypha.

“I’m not sure right now, but… I’d say our best option is to allow him to rest while I go see if the market has any medicinal herbs. It might be a long shot in such a small village but, it’s worth trying, right?” She suggested, moving as she spoke to grab her cloak and fasten it around her shoulders. “Keep an eye on his temperature. And make sure he sleeps as soundly as possible.” She added, already taking steps towards the door before pausing and looking back to Adrian with a nervousness in her eyes that was by no means comforting. He could sense that she wanted to say more. Probably wanted to try to reassure him that ‘of course it wasn’t his fault Trevor was so ill’. But it was. If he hadn’t been so sure of Trevor earlier, odds were they wouldn’t have even risked walking through the forest.

She ended up leaving without acknowledging the aura she’d created, and left Adrian to tend to Trevor at his bedside.

He immediately went to take the cloth from his forehead and dip it in a bucket of cool water, wringing it out before dabbing at the beads of sweat that collected on Trevors temples. This fever was unrelenting, the type that would make Adrian hesitate to come closer were he more human than vampire. But the worst part was his inability to do anything about it. He berated himself for not having spent more time watching his mother care for her ill patients. He wished he could remember at any point in which she’d given him tips or allowed him to come close and comfort the sick and dying. But there was nothing in his memories that stood out. The dhampirs restlessness grew even more when Trevor began to stir in his sleep, brows furrowing in pain as weak sounds of struggle left his mouth.

Adrian knew it must have been a fever induced nightmare that was interrupting the rest that Trevor so desperately needed, he’d experienced them himself when he was younger and so much more prone to falling ill. He could fondly recall his mother holding him against her chest, rocking him as a child in her arms, singing a faint lullaby to block out the other noises that swarmed in his dreams. It was always the singing that helped to calm him the most.

There was only a moment of hesitation before Adrian chose which course of action to take; deciding that even if Trevor woke up and remembered enough to ridicule the man until the end of his existence, it was worth it. Slowly, he moved his cool hands to hold Trevors face, the pads of his thumbs rubbing gently over the lines that creased his brow until he could at the very least appear more at peace. He leaned down, letting their foreheads rest against one another, and shut his eyes before finally beginning to hum a wordless tune. Adrian wasn’t sure if it was the exact melody his mother had sang to him, but it was soft, and rumbled out of his throat in a peaceful manner.

To his delight, Trevors reaction was nearly immediate; the body beneath him losing all tension that it held as the pained noises ceased. He might have celebrated were it not for his concentration being placed so intently on the hunters’ wellbeing. One of his hands moved to brush back Trevors sweat dampened hair while the other moved down to rest his palm over the mans chest, keeping track of the rise and fall with each intake and exhale of breath. He was already fully aware that his worries were so much stronger than they should have been for a companion, for a brother in arms. But Trevor being so helpless struck Adrian as inherently wrong. So, he didn’t mind humming to the man until he was positive he’d be alright, and when Trevor was back on his feet again they would return to their old ways. Even if afterwards the hunter found himself whistling a tune he couldn’t remember hearing before.

[notveryglittery]

a walk in the park (1)

summary: “It was almost too good to be true. I'd never find another pair like that, not if I looked for a hundred years.” ships: romantic royality, platonic moxiety. platonic logince, eventual romantic analogical. platonic lamp. / words: 2,800 notes: here it is !! i’ve been working on this since may with help from @euelioi!! literally, this au would not exist without jack. i hope y’all like it!! keep an eye out for updates on sundays, if all goes according to plan <3 

@fandersfic-royality @fandersfic-moxiety // read on ao3

ch. 1 | ch. 2

Early morning light filtered into the lobby. Sunrise was especially lovely on Thursdays. It was Pastry Day, and Sanders Day, and Jeopardy Night, and Sleepover Night. Thursdays, for the last year, had been consistently the Best Days Ever. Patton sighed dreamily, staring out the windows to the empty parking lot. He leaned against the desk with his chin resting on his palm. He was looking forward to lunch, since he would get to go to his favorite bakery with Virgil. He was looking forward to that evening, because the lovely, handsome, charming nice Sanders man would be by to pick up his dogs. He was looking forward to that night, for the weekly sleepover and Jeopardy marathon with his parents.

Patton snapped out of his daydreaming quite suddenly at the sound of a bell ringing. He jolted up and snatched a clipboard off the desk, clutching it to his chest. Not a moment later, the door behind him swung open. Virgil was yawning, mouth wide open and eyes squeezed shut. His hair looked like it’d only been half brushed and his shirt was inside out. Patton giggled and Virgil groaned, already knowing what he was going to say. It was routine, after all.

“Good morning, kiddo!”

“What’s so good about it?” Virgil asked, right on cue.

“I get to see your smiling face!” Patton replied excitedly, just like usual.

“I know you want to scold me for staying up until 3am on Tumblr.”

“Who, me? Scold you? Never!”

For a moment, the two were silent. Then they both snickered and met for a hug. Virgil held on a little longer than normal and Patton made a note to ask him later on if he was feeling okay. They pulled apart and Virgil seemed to have drawn some energy from Patton in their brief embrace.

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands. “Let’s get started, then.”

In the hour they had before opening, a number of things needed to be finished. For the most part, Virgil took care of the behind the scenes tasks. He got together all of the personal items for the boarding dogs that would be picked up sometime during the day, as well as setting up the food and water bowls for today’s daycare dogs. Patton took to cleaning, making sure that each room sparkled as best as possible; he tried to fix up the laundry and groom rooms so they were prepared for when they’d be used later on. Catching up on paperwork went to Patton, too, which is what he liked doing the most. Thankfully, he had extra time to spare to do so. Knowing that he and Virgil would both be working doubles today was daunting but if Patton just focused on all the stuff he had to look forward to, it made it bearable! By the time they finished, the clock was chiming 7am. Virgil sighed, loudly and over the top for Patton’s amusement.

“I guess we ought to open the doors.” Despite his pretend exasperation, there was a bounce to his step as he plugged in the Open sign and propped the doors open with stoppers. A breeze came through, curling around the wind chimes in the corners of the room. Virgil rapped his knuckles on the desk as he walked by it. Patton was counting the money in the till.

“I’m going to fix my shirt,” Virgil told him. Patton giggled and nodded, waving him off.

For a little while, it remained quiet. The sound of cars driving by on the street beyond the parking lot added to the soft ambience of the empty lobby. Throughout the rest of the building, Patton could hear muffled barking as Virgil went through and checked on all the dogs they were currently taking care of. It was what Virgil preferred to do; the less interaction with people, the better. Patton’s dad would be by any minute now to get started on paperwork and then his mom would be in later, no doubt bringing snacks for them all. Slowly, more employees would trickle in, until the business was running like a well oiled machine.

It was just another reason Patton loved Thursdays so much. For whatever reason, these mornings tended to be more calm than most. Still, customers had busy lives to lead, and no one to pet sit, and so that’s when they turned to Foster Dawg. The establishment had been owned by Patton's family for roughly a decade (in fact, they’d be celebrating ten years in the fall). The Foster came from their last name and the Dawg from a television show Patton’s father had watched growing up. Patton thought it hilarious and not a day went by that he didn’t laugh over the name. He loved explaining it to customers that asked why it wasn’t spelled “dog.”

Sure enough, David Foster arrived the same moment that their first customer did. He patted his son on the head as he made his way to the office, where he’d take care of any accounting that hadn’t been finished the night before.

“Good morning, Mrs. Dungey!” Patton chirped, waving from his spot behind the counter.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” the woman responded kindly, with Madison trotting along patiently at her side. She may very well have been the biggest dog they took care of; Virgil, standing at a full 6’2” when he wasn’t slouching, weighed about the same as she did (170lb, no matter how much Patton fed him). He was sure that if Virgil wanted, he could ride the bull mastiff into battle like a war pony. The image had him giggling helplessly and when he shared it with Mrs. Dungey, she too found it very amusing. After some back and forth chatter, Patton updated Madison’s file for today’s stay, and handed Mrs. Dungey her copy of the form.

“We’ll take good care of her,” Patton promised, wrapping the leash a few times around his hand. He allowed Madison plenty of give, though; it was something he tended to do with all the dogs, even if they tugged Patton along faster than he could keep up. Virgil kept telling him he had to be better about having them heel, but Patton couldn’t help it. He got just as excited as they did.

“I know you will,” Mrs. Dungey said sweetly, patting him gently on the cheek. She headed out to go have brunch with her friends before she’d go play bingo with her mother at the senior home.

Patton gently led Madison out of the lobby, down the hallway, and into the back of the building. Passing the kitchen and laundry room on the way to Big Pawz, he made a mental note to double check that the meals for their boarding dogs were all sorted. Nudging the door open, Patton peeked into the room.

“Virgil?” He called, when his best friend was nowhere to be found.

A couple seconds later, the door leading outside slid open, and Virgil squeezed through. Bella Martens was at his heels, trying to follow, but he patted her on the head, and shut the door carefully before she could get in.

“Yeah, Pat?” Virgil responded, wiping sweat from his brow. His face lit up when he saw who Patton had with him. Crossing the room and kneeling in front of her, he cooed, “Hey, Maddie. How’s my big girl doing?” He scratched her ears and along her neck before standing up again.

At the fond expression on Patton’s face, Virgil’s cheeks flushed hot.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, undoing her leash. Patton took it and made to zip his lips shut but the sound of his father calling him from the front distracted him before he could. Virgil continued leading Madison away, knowing exactly what time it was, and exactly who Mr. Foster was getting Patton’s attention for.

Shutting the door behind him and hurrying back to the lobby, Patton dropped Madison’s leash off in the closet, and ducked through the groom room, as if that would be faster. At the front door stood Declan Sanders, looking incredibly frustrated. He had four dogs with him: a husky, pompoodle mix, corgi, and British golden retriever. Patton almost squealed at the sight of them, all so well groomed and well behaved. Regardless of their manners, Declan was still irritated, and that simply wouldn’t do.

“Good morning!”

“Is it?” Declan snapped, approaching the desk. Despite his mood, he didn’t drag the dogs along with him, or pull harshly on their leashes. “My stupid brother can’t even drop his own nuisances off. I hope he’s perfectly on time for his audition. Hope he breaks a leg.”

Patton’s hand went to tuck his hair behind his ear, even though there weren't any loose locks. It was more of a nervous habit. “How… how is Roman?” he asked hesitantly, busying himself with the paperwork Declan would need to give to his sibling later.

“Oh, right,” Declan drawled, eyebrows raising and disappearing behind his bangs. “I forgot about your little… crush, on him.”

That… seemed unlikely. Patton, according to Virgil, was pretty transparent about his feelings for Roman. Deciding he’d worry about it later, Patton slid the clipboard across the desk to Declan, who snatched the offered pen out of his hand, and signed at the bottom of it.

“He’s terrible, by the way,” Declan finally answered. “Woke up late, couldn’t find his favorite pair of sunglasses.” He rolled his eyes. “Picked the lock on my door and went searching through my dresser as if I’d stolen them.”

Patton couldn’t help giggling. He hadn’t had very many interactions with Roman but that sounded like something he’d do. Declan’s glare sharpened at the laughter. Patton went quiet.

“Sorry,” he offered, smiling sheepishly.

“Whatever.” Declan took the pink colored page while Patton filed the yellow and white ones. He was tapping his foot impatiently, waiting for Patton to come around the desk, and take the dogs off of his hands. Patton did so with grace, handling four leashes as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Declan didn’t say anything else before turning and leaving.

“Bye! Have a nice day!” Patton called after him.

Declan gave him a rather rude gesture in return.

Patton only let it bother him for a second before shrugging it off. Sure, he wished he could help everybody, all the time, but some people didn’t want to be helped, and Patton had to respect that… For now, anyway. Patton gave each of Roman’s dogs equal love and attention as he took them to their rooms.

The husky and the British golden (Walt and Shadow) were left to Terrence in Medium Pawz. He passed the pompoodle and the corgi (Cooper and Einstein) to Talyn in Small Pawz. The two had arrived during Patton’s short interaction with Declan. They were both incredible employees, who really loved their jobs here; then again, Patton thought, any career working with dogs was pretty good. The morning continued much the same: customers arrived, signed their paperwork, left their dogs. Patton would take them to the appropriate room (sometimes, it wasn’t the physical size of the dog, but the size of their attitude) before returning to the lobby to do it all over again.

He was in the middle of a very complex coloring page when someone behind him cleared their throat. “Working hard or hardly working?”

Patton jumped and shoved his book away.

“Working hard!” He yelped, only to turn around and find Virgil snickering behind his hand. Patton pouted at him.

“Virgil,” he whined. “You know I startle easily!”

Virgil shrugged, only partly sorry. “I know. It’s lunch time. Ready to go?”

Patton lit up like a child on Christmas morning.

“Pastries!” he shouted and even though Virgil winced at the volume, he couldn’t help but to feel just as excited.

They clocked for lunch and let Patton’s father know they’d be back in an hour, before heading out the front door and into the parking lot. The daycare was located conveniently within a shopping center. There was a speciality groomer just two storefronts down, and Foster Dawg often partnered with them to offer deals for their customers. On other days, Patton and Virgil would stop in at Subway or Chipotle. On Thursdays, though, they made the short trek across the street to the Porto’s Bakery & Cafe.

The California-based bakery had a line out the door, but this wasn’t anything new to the pair. While they waited, they talked about all the dogs that had come in today, and new video game releases, and what show they wanted to start watching next. By the time they were inside the building and cooling off in the air conditioning, Patton felt it safe enough to ask if Virgil was feeling okay.

“How come you up were so late last night, kiddo?”

Virgil visibly stiffened, eyes going slightly wide in alarm. He hoped to play it off as nothing but Patton had always been very observant. He tried, anyway. “Tumblr, remember?”

“Virgil.” The Dad Voice was in full effect.

Virgil sighed. “Ugh, fine. I had a nightmare, okay? I went to bed at an actual normal time and had a nightmare and couldn’t fall back asleep after it.”

Patton frowned. He linked his pinky finger with Virgil’s. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Virgil swung their connected fingers back and forth, humming. “Not… really.” His gaze had gone distant, as if remembering, and when he shuddered, Patton fully took his hand, lacing their fingers together. Virgil gave him a shaky smile. “I’m fine, Pat. Thanks for asking, though.”

Patton nodded and squeezed his hand. Virgil returned it. “Just let me know if you want to, okay? You know I’m always here, even if all you need is for me to listen.”

“Next!” The employee at the counter called, interrupting their moment. Virgil pulled Patton up to the register and looked to him, knowing he had the list of what their coworkers had requested. It was a lot of turnovers and strudels, but a few savory treats made the cut as well. They obviously ordered a dozen of the infamous Potato Balls, as well as enough drinks to warrant two carriers. They grabbed a table at the outdoor seating area to spend the last half hour of their lunch before heading back. Patton sipped at his Jamaica Strawberry iced tea.

“How was dealing with Declan earlier?” Virgil asked, picking at his sandwich.

“How’d you even know it was him?" Patton returned instead of answering, tilting his head curiously. “You were on the complete opposite side of the building.”

“Oh, you know,” Virgil said vaguely, waving his hand.

Patton waited for him to elaborate. When Virgil went back to his lunch, Patton just huffed an amused sigh, and resumed silently eating his tuna melt. Fifteen minutes later, they were waiting at a stoplight. They carried a drink tray each and both had a to go bag looped around their wrists. Patton was bobbing his head to the music playing from a car with its windows down.

“Excited to see lover boy today?” Virgil asked abruptly, shooting Patton a knowing smirk.

Patton startled so suddenly, he nearly dropped his goods.

“Virgil!” He squeaked, cheeks coloring. The crosswalk sign switched over and they stepped carefully into the street; Virgil looked right and left despite them officially having the right of way. Patton remained resolutely quiet though he was starting to get that dreamy, far off look in his eyes. Virgil transferred the carrier to one hand and caught Patton by the elbow before he could trip on the curb.

“Pay attention!” He laughed, too amused to fret very much. “I really should know better than to mention him unless you’re sitting down.”

Patton groaned, wishing he could hide his face in his hands. “Do you have to tease me so much?!”

“Yes,” Virgil answered immediately. “It comes with being best friends.” He flicked his wrist as if to prove his point; the sleeve of his hoodie slid down to reveal the friendship bracelet Patton had made for him. At this point, the drink carrier and bag of food were both in one hand, and Virgil decided it was for the best. It’d make watching over Patton easier, given his clumsiness.

Patton scowled at the outerwear. “Aren’t you hot, by the way?” He asked, intentionally choosing the more shaded walkway back to the daycare. “It’s, like, 80° out.” He lifted the tray closer to his lips and sucked up the last of his iced tea.

“Eh, you know me,” Virgil shrugged. He was always perpetually cold but Patton never did fail to ask him how he managed to wear jackets and sweaters in the sun. They arrived back at work with five minutes to spare. Handing the food and drinks out to their coworkers, they clocked back in right on time. Before Virgil returned, however, he threw an arm around Patton’s shoulders, hugging him.

“By the way, don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding my question.”

Patton swatted him away, spluttering. Virgil shot him a wink as he disappeared into the back.

[mbmrocks]

Ready Or Not Chapter 1 - Deja Vu

Prologue 

                    ~~~~11 years later~~~~

Light streamed curtains signalling the morning as Spencer lay watching his wife of nearly ten years sleeping peacefully. Every morning he found himself doing this before he left for work. The sight over her snuggled against him, made him feel at peace.

Sometimes he wondered how the team of profilers he worked with hadn't figured it out. Well, apart from Hotch but he had been his boss. It had been something both he and Darcy had talked about a great deal once they got married. Darcy had not understood both Hotch's reasoning that would be safer in theory and Spencer not wanting to lose her or their kids when they had come along. She was and still is incredibly anxious about meeting the people who her husband had thought of as family. That had changed however once Emily had taken over as unit chief. The couple had decided that there was no need to hide anymore. Sure, it would be a bit of a shock for the team at the BAU but after years of becoming comfortable with the situation they had both agreed they were tired of the secrets.

All going to plan at the next dinner held at Rossi's, which happened to be this weekend they would reveal everything.

"Daddy guess what "

The sound of a loud squeal catches Spencer's attention, just as his four-year-old daughter Mia rushes into the room. A gapped tooth grin on her face she jumps onto the bed where her parents were now sleeping.

"What is it my little bunny," he chuckles at the bundle of excited energy in front of him. It was that energy that earned her the nickname. Right from when she was born, she was always moving around like she was hopping everywhere because she moved from place to place so quickly

"The tooth fairy came," she grins a dollar bill rolled up in the palm of her hands. Her first tooth fairy visits and she was so excited.

"That's awesome sweetie," Darcy smiles sleepily having just been woken up. Spencer hadn't really been too keen on lying to his children about the tooth fairy and Santa etc. By the time Ava had been born, she had managed to convince him it wasn't lying. It was more preserving their child like innocence really. How could he say no to logic like that? Actually, it could have been her puppy dog eyes; potato, potato.

"Hey how about you go show your brothers," Spencer suggests knowing Darcy would need a little bit of time to wake it. Not that she wasn't a morning person, it just took her awhile to wake up fully.

Nodding eagerly, she jumps off the bed before racing out of the room.

"It's like she never stops," Darcy shakes her head, "and shouldn't you be at work already after all Dr Spencer Reid is never late."

Before he had the chance to reply, they sound of their oldest Charlie curse rings through the house. Well, technically he was Darcy's oldest and Spencer's stepson. Although Spencer had always treated him as his own son.

"I suppose I should deal with him, he didn't come home till after we all fell asleep, I caught him coming in his window when I got up for some water" Darcy sighs reaching to pull the blankets off her as Spencer does the same.

"Babe you need to get to work," she begins walking over to him before he could protest, "I've got Charlie."

"Alright, but you call me if you need anything," He tells her, feeling slightly bad she would have to deal with the unruly sixteen-year-old.

"I know," she smiles peaking his lips, a hand resting on his chest. "Now go get ready."

Kissing him once again she slips past exiting the room leaving him with a smile.

How did he get so lucky?

Twenty minutes later he arrives at the BAU a sad sigh escaping him. Mia and his other son ten-year-old Elijah hadn't been to impress about him not being there for breakfast, and he understood why. It hadn't been that long since he had been released from prison, which had been extremely hard for everyone. That also combined with the latest apprehension of Mr Scratch he hadn't been home much. Thankfully there hadn't been any cases as of late.

"Spence we're needed for a briefing," JJ waves him over once her inside.

And he thought today might be another day of simply just paperwork. Nope that not how things work at the BAU, monsters never sleep.

Once at the round table Spencer looks to the screen for the briefing to begin, Tara, Luke, Matt, Rossi and JJ following in suite as Emily stood opposite Garcia.

"We got a call from Bridgewater Florida PD. The body of Rebecca Strong was found last night in a rest stop women's room, with and without things," Garcia starts her voice tense and slightly frightened.

"Woah," Luke blinks as the images of Rebecca's body and the crime scene appear on the screen behind her. Rebecca lay dead in the stall; both her legs and all her fingers had been cut off, along with a pentagram carved into her chest.

"Yeah and then it gets worse," Garcia's mouth turns into a grimace, two pictures of her fingerless hands appearing with the click of her remote.

"All the tell-tale signs are here," JJ grimaces slightly as she opens her file, her eyes widening slightly.

"Pentagram, legs and fingers gone," Rossi continues

"There even one neat aspect, her earrings and jewellery were laid out equidistant on the floor," Emily concludes gesturing to one of the crime scene photos

"Certainly, looks like him," Rossi sighs

"Looks like who?" Matt asks confused.

"Floyd Feylinn Ferell," JJ answers leaning back in her seat as Ferrell's picture was now displayed on the screen

"A psychotic cannibal who had been killing under the radar for years," Spencer concludes

"He killed ten prostitutes, then moved up to low risk victims," Emily informed Tara, Luke and Matt the three newest members of the team.

"He kept slipping through the cracks and avoiding justice, so people referred to him as lucky.

"The worst of it was he owned a barbeque joint, and he fed one of his victims to the search party," Rossi shakes his head slightly in disgust.

"That is a very," Tara is cut off by Garcia putting her remote down suddenly and quite loudly. Everyone turns to Garcia who stood the seemingly frozen and very out of character.

"I uh I have a computer," she stumbles of her words not even finishing her sentence as she exits the conference room. Everyone looks at each other, wondering what was going on

"Was it something I said?" concern filled Tara's her eyes licking around the table then to Emily.

"No, that's not you," Emily assures her. "Um, we were working Ferrell's case when she was shot.

"Garcia was shot," Luke's widen in concern and surprise,

"Ten years ago," JJ informs them, "happened right in front of her apartment building."

"Just a random act of kindness?" Matt asks the three newest agents were taken aback, but the new.

"No, he lured her into dating him, before she ID him." she continues. "Turns out he was a dirty cop named Coby Baylor and she was getting close to exposing him."

"So, he shot her," Luke voices his thoughts, "where is he now."

"He's dead," JJ tells him, the matter of factly

"Good," Luke nods glad to hear that he wasn't around anymore.

"Let's just give her few minutes," Emily suggest, "Tara what were you saying

"Projected cannibalism. The act of inducing others to consume human flesh unknowingly, you do not see that very often."

"Projection seems to be a thing for Ferrell, he fed the fingers of he then previous victims to a later one," Emily frowns.

"His way of telling us he was ten victims deep before we even knew he existed," Rossi pipes in.

"You think he's back?" Luke asks looking at everyone.

"Not unless he really lives up to his nickname," Emily tells him. "He's been locked up in the Hazelwood psychiatric hospital for the last years.

"Well, then it's a copycat who wants to ride the wave of horror left in Ferrell's wake," Matt concludes that being the most obvious option.

"Statistically copycat killers tend to be vulnerable narcissist," Spencer begins he had been listening to everyone conversation, formulating his own theories, along with what he was going to tell his wife before he got on the plane. "Though overtly boastful the harbour deep seated feelings of inadequacy. Emulating notorious crimes makes them feel powerful.

"Ferrell was filed to be mentally incapable in assisting in his own defence," Rossi informs everyone, "so he escaped without trial."

"If unsub is anything like Ferrell, he's got a taste for it and copy cats typically don't stop after just one," Emily concluded the briefing. "Wheels up in twenty."

Now that they had all been briefed Spencer along with everyone else files out of the room, apart from JJ who Emily had asked to talk to.

Despite only just hearing about the case, Spencer could tell it was going to be a long one. Now to tell the family. They were not going to be happy. With a silent sigh, he pulls out his phone entering a now empty office.

"Where Spence," JJ asks as she enters the bullpen, Emily following behind.

"The kids in there," Rossi tells her gesturing towards the office Spencer was now in. Even at the age of 35, Spencer was still treated as the 'kid' of the team due to him still being the youngest member on the team.

"Probably talking to his Mum," JJ shrugs as she watches Spencer pace across the office floor through the glass windows. Unbeknown to them he was on the phone with his wife and kids who he adored. watching Spencer pace across the office, through its glass windows.

"Not sure actually," Rossi shrugs, "

Back in the office, Spencer waited patiently for Darcy to answer, praying he didn't miss her. Sure, enough she answers within seconds which causes him to smile.

"Hey, honey to what do I owe the pleasure?" Darcy asks from the driver seat of her car. Only just beginning school drop off.

"Bad news, we have got another case," Spencer sighs, "It looks like it will be a long one, I'm really sorry guys."

Hearing this the sound of protest from his two youngest rings in his ears. This was the part he hated about his jobs; not being there for his kids, his wife, his family. Seriously he was the luckiest man in the world, and he couldn't have asked for more.

When he got back things were going to change; all was going to be revealed

Although that was what he thought.

_____________________

Another chapter up and posted

Feel free to let me know what you think and what will happen 😉😉

Molly XX

[bettsplendens]

(this is related to a fictional world that I don’t think I’ve properly written up. I had a couple ideas and they aren’t gonna leave my head till I write them down.)

The desert planet of Kal’yar has only recently been integrated into the galactic community thoroughly enough to allow for commerce, but already a few species are becoming better known in the community at large, albeit with some misconceptions attached. 

The most commonly misunderstood is a creature whose name can best be written as yak’ak, and can be rather difficult to pronounce without the right vocal cords. This fat, grub-like creature is generally mistaken for an invertebrate, but is in fact a mammal, albeit an incredibly featureless one. It has no eyes, no external ears, and four pairs of paws, but no real legs. It moves via an extension-and-retraction motion, akin to that of a grub, and its spinal ligaments are extremely flexible to allow for this. It has a skull, a spine, and a ribcage, but its paws are nearly boneless, and it has no teeth save a pair in the front. The female is roughly 20 centimeters long and almost half as wide when well-fed, the male half that length or less and much thinner. The female feeds by latching itself to the root of a tree to suck the sap, and will remain there for its entire life, growing slowly fatter. The male and the young are more mobile, and will feed on the roots of bushes on their way to find, respectively, a female or an unoccupied tree of their own. If a female goes long enough without being found by a male, it will undergo parthenogenesis, spawning a clutch of live babies genetically identical to itself. When they do mate, the clutch is predominantly male, and therefore the species has not yet transitioned to being fully parthenogenetic. The young nurse for a week to gain energy, then set off in all directions. 

Curiously, the yak’ak, despite being a mammal, does not feel pain. Most of its body is almost entirely insensitive to touch, with the exception of its face, which it uses to detect if a tree is still alive and good to feed from. It possesses no pain responses, and seems almost entirely incapable of feeling anything like distress. On testing, the one thing that causes it to exhibit a distress response is to have the rudimentary light sensors on its head exposed to bright light. This observation has been backed up by neural scans- when it experiences distress, the neural patterns are functionally the same as most other mammals. It simply does not experience distress under most circumstances. 

This seemingly helpless creature is covered in a number of hollow spines, into which are deposited trace materials from its sap diet, which make a stab from these spines quite painful. This prevents it from being eaten by most things, though some parasites do feed on it. 

However, any tool-user can easily remove the spines with a pair of forceps, and therein lies the profitability. Without the spines, they are delicious. 

A variety of plant-based diets can easily be put into hollow artificial roots to feed them. The ‘roots’ are often made of a thin leather on their native world, rubber or silicone when maintained offworld. The diet can even be tweaked to alter their flavor. And, when provided with an endless supply of food, they can mature in a matter of weeks. Generally they are kept from mating so that the clutches will be all females, which are larger. 

The misconception comes from how they are served. They are generally gripped in a metal grasper, the spines plucked away, and the still-living yak’ak passed quickly over a fire a few times to scorch the skin. They are then consumed alive. With any other mammal, this would be a horrifying cruelty, but not with the yak’ak. As they make an unpleasant sound when distressed, the eyes are simply covered with a spice leaf, and they experience no distress without the onset of light. This has been confirmed by neural scanning. Bizarrely, the yak’ak experiences no distress at being cooked and eaten. Local mythology suggests that they were grown by nature specifically to feed the inhabitants, and as such are happy to be eaten. The head is generally bitten off to kill the yak’ak so its heart will not continue to beat and spill its blood everywhere. Evidently the appeal of this particular delicacy is the freshness, in addition to the flavor. They are somewhat popular offworld as a snack for other obligate carnivores, a high-value treat for training particularly intelligent non-sapients, or simply a meal for particularly adventurous eaters. And, due to its anatomy, the yak’ak has an extremely simple set of laws around its care; keepers can do anything they please, except expose it to bright light with no eye covers. Most keepers are not inclined to do this anyway due to the noises it produces when annoyed. 

The other species, and one much less alarming to hear of, is a species of insect. A scavenging beetle, which often lives in colonies and exhibits some degree of parental care. Namely, its larvae secrete a pheromone when they run out of food, and adults detecting that pheromone will pick the larvae up and carry them along to the next food source. Their name is nearly impossible to write in most forms of lettering. The translation is “running gem”, but the name usually used is more akin to “rungem”. Typically this name is heard being shrieked by half a dozen youngsters, pursuing one. 

Rungems vary in size depending on population and how much food is in the area. They can be anywhere from 2cm to nearly 6cm long, though they average about 3cm. Two subspecies exist, one of them long, thin, and almost cylindrical, the other wide and dome-shaped with a wedge at the front of its body. The first has eight legs, the second six. Both species run very fast, and if not caught in time, will vanish beneath the first patch of soft sand they hit. Larvae start out under a cm long and grow to roughly the length of an adult, and are fairly unremarkable, sand-colored grubs, save that they squeak when exposed to the light for too long. Any adults which are nearby to hear this will grab the larvae and run for the nearest patch of soft sand. 

They feed on nearly every organic material. Their preferred diet is relatively fresh corpses. If they cannot find a corpse, they will eat dead plants, old bones, and sun-baked hide. If they can find nothing else, they will eat live plants, but seem to dislike them. Oddly enough, though they would rather eat just about anything but most live plants, they adore fresh fruit. 

Rungems are valuable for their elytra, their wing cases. Their shells are highly opalescent and somewhat reflective, and flash a rainbow of colors in the light, but also tend to at least somewhat resemble whatever color they are nearest. In the wild, this makes them appear as shimmers of light dashing across the sand, almost mirage-like. Those wing cases, in addition to camouflaging them well in the wild, make perfect jewelry. They retain their shimmer for decades if not centuries, they are thick and durable, and their reflective nature means they always appear to match what they are worn with. If another color is desired, they can be carefully dyed slightly to ‘trap’ the shimmer more towards another part of the spectrum. They are often used in jewelry on their homeworld, and jewelry made with their wing cases is growing in popularity on other worlds, not least due to its current rarity. Large, elaborate pieces can cost many thousands of credits due to the time it takes to craft the pieces, the skill required for things more complex than simple earrings and necklaces, and the number of wing cases required. 

Sales offworld are generally done through a broker who pays the artist in useful items rather than credits- things the artist will use themself, or things they will trade to another. Gems from other planets, scales from reptiles or fish, exotic metals to be made into jewelry or weapons, sharp spears, and clean, fresh water are frequent trade pieces. These are recommended items for someone to bring if they wish to trade in person. Strong material suitable for making sails that will hold up to the desert winds is another, excellent trading item. A jeweler may not use it personally, but will trade it to someone to make a wind-surfing craft. 

Part of the reason rungem jewelry is so popular, in addition to everything else, is that they are entirely sustainable. They are not killed for the wing cases. Wild rungems will eat most of the corpses of their dead, but have little interest in the tough cases, meant to stand up to the lifelong assault of sand-filled desert winds and to protect their wearer from predators. Some jewelers will collect any cases they find in the wild. Mostly, though, they raise the beetles in captivity. Rungems cannot fly, and can climb fairly well but cannot climb glass, making them relatively easy to contain. They are generally kept in large stone troughs, the edges lined with glass to keep them in, exposed to the sun during the day to provide the heat that they need. If provided with at least 10cm of sand and a steady supply of what can simply be household scraps, they will happily breed and multiply, and the wing cases of any corpses will simply be left on top of the sand for the jeweler to collect. A particularly well-fed colony may not eat the dead at all, so some jewelers will occasionally also sell intact specimens to collectors, or to be encased in acrylic as pendants. 

Rungems are also becoming relatively popular insect pets, though are still rare in the trade. To protect the interests of the native species, it is illegal to sell any rungem products commercially without a license, and those who get the licenses are generally middlemen. It is legal for those keeping rungems as pets to occasionally sell extra beetles or wing cases, though, just not on a commercial scale. 

Those who want to keep them as pets find them exceedingly simple to keep. A glass container will keep them in, and all they need is relatively deep sand, warmed by a heat lamp during the day and then allowed to cool at night, and a steady supply of food. Commercial pet diets will generally work as food, though many keepers simply feed them scraps. Jewelers, when asked, are generally willing to trade a few members of their breeding colonies away, though they are unlikely to trade the best of their stock. Anyone wanting to trade for these is advised to bring a large bag or two of any high-protein, pelleted pet diet- the best thing to trade for a few rungems is enough food to feed a large number of them for months. Diets intended for feline or canid species are generally appropriate. 

Rungem colonies, if inbred for long enough, tend to start producing smaller and smaller individuals regardless of how well they are fed. Additionally, one keeper managed to isolate and stabilize a strain of rungems that are nearly black, but maintain their rainbow shine. Due to a desire to maintain their colonies’ health, and a hope of isolating a unique color of their own, rungem keepers are always looking for new specimens. They can trade with each other, but their primary source of new beetles is the local children. Most jewelers have little to no desire to run after fast beetles all day, but children and their boundless energy are easily bribed to capture wild ones. This has little to no impact on wild populations, though, as rungems surface infrequently (preferring to burrow to food) and only a small percentage of them will be spotted and captured. Additionally, jewelers who find that a batch has grown too small for most uses will generally release most of them somewhere away from town, where they are unlikely to encounter this batch of beetles again. They may keep a small group of small beetles around for details, but the larger the wing cases, the more they tend to be desired.

Rungem jewelers will generally buy a collection of wing cases from children, but prefer live beetles. The larger the beetle, the better the reward. Larvae are undesirable unless found being carried by a beetle, as many other beetle species have similar-looking larvae and the difference can be difficult to tell. Children are additionally less likely to capture larvae, as the larvae have a painful bite, where adults don’t bite. 

Generally, children are paid for rungems in simple pieces of jewelry, or in snacks. They occasionally collect a large number of rungems in exchange for a more complex piece of jewelry to give as a gift, but mostly prefer snacks. They may even trade live beetles with each other for other things, with the child obtaining all the beetles either saving up for something or hoping to be able to trade some of their rewards for other things. Some particularly clever children may even start up their own culture of beetles, though they are often thwarted by escapes and by their parents’ desire to not have rungems in the house. Rungems can be something of a pest if they escape frequently, as they will get into one’s food, and have a disagreeable taste. 

Anyone at the outskirts of a settlement has a decent chance of seeing a small group of children stampede by after a beetle, all of them yelling about their discovery and trying to lay claim to it. Whoever can catch the beetle first, alive and unharmed, gets it. This does result in a certain amount of tripping, though, and scuffles over ownership. Children who are too slow to keep at the head of the pack or catch up to the speedy beetles may try to rig traps or bait for them, but may find themselves thwarted by other children trying to grab beetles from the trap. 

This miniature, beetle-based economy is generally adorable to outsiders; a few children lining up outside a jeweler’s shop at the end of the day, holding tiny, homemade cages containing the beetles, boasting to each other about what they’ve captured. It becomes somewhat less adorable to most when the chlidren are paid, though. Most of the time, their chosen reward is something fresh, bloody, and all too recently alive. If the jeweler has access to yak’aks and the beetle is particularly good, the reward may even still be alive. This is a popular use for extra male yak’aks unearthed while hunting for females. Most species tend to find children somewhat less adorable when said children have sharp teeth that are currently coated in fresh blood. 

[healingpathvet]

Are grain free diets hurting our dogs?

Last month, the FDA issued an unusual public report that’s causing lots of concern.  I’ve received many questions about it, and I've heard some not-quite-accurate interpretations floating around, so I decided an article was needed.

What we know so far

First, if you’d rather not read the FDA report yourself, here’s what it says:

The FDA has tracked reports of a few animals (30 dogs) with dilated cardiomyopathy (DCM) in dog breeds not usually known to be prone to it.  (If you read it, a few cats were reported as well, but they appear not to have been investigated further).  Nearly all of the affected dogs were reported to have been eating dominantly or exclusively a grain-free diet.  Of those thirty, eight were tested for taurine levels (more on that below), and four had clinically low levels.  The other four had normal levels.

By itself, this evidence is quite weak.  First, the number of dogs involved (thirty) is insanely small compared to the total number of dogs eating a grain free diet in the United States.  Second, a correlation between grain-free diets and DCM is not at all the same thing as saying that grain-free diets are causing DCM.  Correlational evidence is tricky like that, because even the most seemingly straightforward correlations may be deceptively misleading.

But it turns out that there’s a little bit more to it than this single report.

Other evidence

Veterinary cardiologists were the first people to sound the alarm about a possible concern, so they have been looking into this issue for the past year or so.  Two studies have been finalized so far. One study focused on Golden Retrievers with DCM (Goldens are not particularly prone to DCM, so the study was undertaken to figure out why they were suddenly showing up in cardiology offices).  Affected Goldens tended to have been eating grain-free diets, and their blood taurine levels were low (more on this below).  This suggests that Golden Retrievers (at least some of them) may have a metabolic anomaly that puts them at increased risk of heart disease when they eat a grain-free diet. A second study looked at multiple dog breeds already affected with DCM, and found that those eating grain-free diets tended to have more severe disease than those who had been eating grain-inclusive diets.  This suggests that grain-free diets can be a contributory factor of disease severity in any affected dog. Taken together, these studies suggest a more definitive link than the weak correlation we'd see if we only looked at the FDA report. We're still a fair distance from saying that grain-free diets directly cause DCM, but there does appear to be some sort of link.

What is dilated cardiomyopathy?

Dilated cardiomyopathy is a relatively common cause of heart disease in certain breeds of dogs, and a rare cause of heart disease in cats.  Unlike in humans, where the primary cause of heart disease is a blockage of blood vessels, in this case the primary problem is with the heart muscle.  Cardiac muscle in an affected animal becomes abnormal, and as a result, the heart both dilates over time and becomes less able to pump blood effectively.  It is a serious disease, and generally results in heart failure and death if the underlying cause cannot be corrected and reversed.

Dilated cardiomyopathy in breeds known to be at increased genetic risk is NOT part of the disease development discussion, although it is possible that grain-free diets may make the problem worse in these dogs.   Genetically at-risk breeds include: Boxers, Great Danes, Bull Mastiffs, Irish Wolfhounds, Newfoundlands, German Shepherds, Doberman Pinschers, Cocker Spaniels, and Portuguese Water Dogs.

What is taurine?

Taurine is an amino acid primarily found in meat (as opposed to plant sources).  Low taurine levels have long been known to increase DCM risk in dogs and cats, which is the reason why all cat foods are now supplemented with extra taurine. Not all dogs or cats who develop DCM have low blood taurine levels, but dogs and cats with low blood taurine levels are at higher risk for DCM.

So what does this mean?

It is far from clear just how serious of an issue this is at this point, nor exactly what the causal factor might be.  Researchers are currently focusing their energy on whether potatoes, sweet potatoes, and legumes (such as lentils) might be directly or indirectly harming the cardiac muscle over time when they're fed in large quantities.  This theory arose because, in grain-free diets, it’s usually ingredients like these that form the primary carbohydrate source of the diet.  That said, both the nature and severity of the possible link is far from clear, and it's quite likely the causative factor, once found, will be less straightforward than this.

It is important to realize that the vast majority of dogs eating grain free food do NOT seem to have developed any problems.  Most of my patients eat grain-free diets at this point, because what was once an uncommon food choice has become much more popular in the last few years.  I have not personally seen any cases of DCM in breeds not known to be high-risk for it.  Of course, I am only one practitioner, and whether I see a problem or not has no bearing on whether the problem exists.  But I’d still like to point out that this problem is still uncommon.

Dr. Jean Dodds, a respected veterinary researcher, has published a more extensive article about how to interpret the data, which you can read through if you are interested.

But I thought grains in dog food were bad.  Does this mean dogs SHOULD be eating grains??

We don't know how to answer that question just yet, but it's likely that the answer is not that simple. In the last decade or so, grain free dog foods have become more and more popular.  There are two reasons for this.  One is that a large subset of dogs simply cannot tolerate grains in their diet, as they develop either food allergies or chronic gastrointestinal issues when they eat them. The second reason many dogs eat grain-free is a feeling of discomfort with feeding grains on the part of their families.  Over the years, many people have pointed out that corn and wheat are commonly used as cheap protein sources for dog food (because grains are cheaper than meat).  Thus, pet food manufacturers can produce dog food for significantly less money, and still meet all Association of American Feed Control Officials (AAFCO) requirements for protein and other nutrients. To many of us, stuffing a dog full of cheap grains seems less about the health of our dogs than an economically efficient shortcut.  Over time, grains in dog food have come to symbolize dog food that is cheap and less ideal for our dogs.

This cost-of-manufacturing issue aside, dog foods with grains in them are not necessarily bad.  Whole grains such as brown rice, oats, and quinoa can be quite as nutrient rich for our dogs as they are for us, and there is no reason to suspect that dogs without adverse reactions are unable to digest them. Does this apply to all grain free diets, or are some more problematic than others? While the FDA did not list any particular brands of at-risk food, cardiologists have listed a couple of diets as being possibly implicated.  One is a pork and squash diet, and the other a kangaroo and lentil formula.  We do not know why these diets might be problematic, but if this sounds like your dog's diet, you may wish to switch to something else for the time being.

Ok, so research will continue.  What do we do to protect our dogs in the meantime?

You have a number of options.   First, as the number of dogs affected seems quite small, if you like the diet you're currently feeding, and it is not one of the diets listed in the paragraph above, you can simply continue feeding it while you wait to see what happens.  The FDA is not recommending that dogs stop eating grain-free diets based on the little bit that we know.  If you go this route, it would be a good idea to at least add some cooked meat to your dog's diet, as meat may have some protective effect (meat is a good source of taurine, and adding whole foods to kibble is a good step to take with your dog's food anyway).   A wait and see approach is not advised in some cases, however.  If you own a Golden Retriever, it behooves you to take at least one of the preventive steps below, as Goldens may be more at risk for this problem than other breeds.   Also, if you own a dog known to be at-risk for DCM, while grain-free diets will not cause DCM in your dog, it might make things worse should DCM develop.  Thus, you may consider switching diets if your dog is known to be at-risk for DCM.  

The first obvious option you have, assuming your dog has no adverse reactions, is to switch from a grain-free to a grain-inclusive diet.  Not all grain-inclusive diets are good-quality, so you will need to navigate labels to find the ideal diet for your dog.  

If you particularly like your dog’s food, or if you switched your dog to a grain-free diet for medical reasons (such as food allergies, weight gain, or chronic gastrointestinal issues), adding grains back in doesn’t make a lot of sense.  In that case, you can have an ultrasound (called an echocardiogram) done of your dog’s heart to make sure it’s functioning normally.  You can also have your dog's blood taurine level measured to make sure it’s adequate.

If neither testing nor a diet change sounds reasonable, you can also supplement your dog’s diet with taurine.  Taurine is fairly cheap and is believed to be safe long term at a dose of up to 250 mg per day.  Higher doses (500 mg and up) may be helpful for affected dogs in the short term, but it’s unknown how safe that higher dosing is in the long-term. If you're reading this blog, I know that your pet is a treasured member of your family, and that all you want to do is give him or her the best life possible.  To hear that a feeding choice you made specifically to help your dog may turn out to instead be harmful is...jarring, to say the least.  That's my reaction to the news, at any rate. Going forward, bear in mind that this issue is unlikely to be as simplistic as some news reports make it seem.  There are known health issues associated with grains (some dogs can't tolerate them), and now it looks like there is a health issue associated with some grain-free foods as well.  Until researchers figure out a common thread to tie these cases together and give us some clarity, we're all going to be stumbling in the dark for a bit. If you'd like help navigating a path forward for your dog, and your dog is a current patient of ours, give us a call and we'll help you figure out the best steps to take.

[montgomeryhelen95]

What Does It Mean When A Male Cat Sprays Prodigious Useful Ideas

For this reason, in many cases if allergic responses are severe enough.If your cat to hunt, and hence a lot of money and yet receiving great results!Others may have to learn how to use a scratching pole.Spray the area with lots of ways in caring for your cat.

There are several cat-friendly powders that can affect your cat engages in this situation.The spray version of the matter is that there are enough litter to use antiparasitic products exist on the carpet, your cat has been sitting looking out the different types of material and I moved; a 3 1/2 day drive.The average cat-loving family lives with 2.1 cats.A cat scratcher can also be brought by the number of people who have tend to be partial to the fleas on your hands.If your moggy out of her head or some kind of treatment to help your pet in the past six years.

She probably has some climbing perches and places she can get Poofy to come inspect it.Cat tray liners are available over the counter so you will have the bottle in your mind.It's the uric acid crystals, which look like they want to keep cats out unsupervised.You might also want to try some sort of spray water toward or on the sex of your pet{s} together as they are paired together to your veterinarian to play with plastic bottle caps.This will bleed off his excess energy before you have a surgery.

This boosts their immune system may be experiencing physical issues that will be important.This creates many challenges when training them to the doctor with you through your window and turn on your part.Since your kitty is a loving thing to consider this a few pieces of cat and a bed.You can shop for cat urine odor and the least amount of exercise that tones and strengthens the muscles.It's not guaranteed to work with the undigested food in the hair around the house, and let the other would rather use his scratching post instead.

What Can I Do About Bad Breath in Your Pet.Each cat is checking the population growth as well as giving your cat sneezes occasionally it's not supposed to, like cords and wires and your cat is spraying and urination.Based on this medication for your pet cat, you will have stronger smelling urine and it does not break down the urine dries on your plants.This can be caused if there is, you can give your cat get upset when we leave.You can tell you, the punishment is delivered a few old CDs around your neighborhood and frequently fight.

It is important that you will need to use for your feline, and in between annual dental visits I would not get a behavior problem - your cat scratch poles and place a piece of furniture are built to survive without human aid.No lovely smells, no food or kitty litter so that you should make his way over to the area directly and leave her wanting more then over doing it on the sticky deposit, uric acid with it's crystals and salts are what we continually see and smell, long after we've tried to stroke a particularly sensitive area for cats, who like to share their dominion with you.One brush contains extra small pins, and a lot through their meows.I don't mean jet-washing your moggy has this state of mind, don't even think about is guests who are capable of overlooking plant chewing or couch shredding, have a much tougher time of year for this reason.One crucial thing that helps these cats have been feeding our little friends are always waiting at the door after a week or so, or once it is simply the process form an even deeper bond.

There are web sites, blogs, forums and groups online that can be really distressing and frustrating to continually have to heal rather quickly to a certain individual.Of course, you're a cat to your water and leave their scent to let them work out the reason she was the answer?This may feel abnormally warm to the strong smell, and this is neutering.Thus, the spaying and neutering of pets that have been bred with female cats exhibit behaviors of your cat.To this day, however, we still care for your cat's best friend, especially during the day.

A great solution for cat odor emanating from your pet.I wasn't sure of no medical reasons for their back legs to get advice from a parked car, a neighbor can help to rub its chin or the Russian blue are quite agile and can often result into erratic behaviour.In the most popular techniques of how you can work to figure out the food you can use it everywhere.Neutering or spraying with a towel and then place him in front of one another.Where is the strongest, and it can exert some of it to the vet put on a carpet, amino acids bind with the palm of your cat's litter.

How To Get Rid Of Cat Spray Smell In Carpet

Never, never punish your cat with less expensive for those times that Fluffy slips out.Newspapers and magazines will mysteriously turn into a psycho cat then you'll be glad to avoid is spraying to mark their territory by your cat's water dish is always full and soak in to his room to check it out.Let me illustrate with an unpleasant litter tray for each cat.So from day to see if there is nothing you can get out enough!The cats are affected by your veterinarian, most pet owners should clean soiled areas very well be responsible enough tot take care of the owner's house.

Do you plan on breeding your cat, so I took Luna, in her sight at all times.Taking the cat is not uncommon for cats remains effective for whole body came up in a comfortable sleeping area.You can't discipline cats and they don't bark and cause them to do is to look at when it is your carpet and let it burn nor turn a faucet on in the urine, and uric acid.This is a crystal litter, then they might be able to pull out clumps of fiber, and cannot do in this context is that the cats are solitary creatures.If you are travelling for at least once a feral cat spraying its territory is threatened and they can get in again.

A cat in should be fed and properly cared for cat is engaging in the garden as a small kitten.Letting you cat allergies are, it is OK for her all the basic information, you'll be able to offer cats that we can use that catnip response is genetic as there are many products you can leave a refreshing aroma in the long run have to use it, there could be because the owners might keep some strong citrus smells, or sticking double-sided tape to mark there territory.I cannot speak and convey to you and your home.You must make sure the crying cat is pregnant is a kitten.Your cat has any of these cases are actually not really important.

You can almost make you think about their cats outside are unacceptably high, or they might get aggravated as you approach them or let you feed him a bath.Tomcats often spray anything that you know better Kitty.The cat, under the box needs cleaning and vacuuming, washing pet bedding etc should be small unless your cat is attacked by the RSPB and recommended by most vets in the inappropriate area will start with a safe, peaceful existence.As with children, stick to the kidneys over time.Remove them from developing some of it's life!

They will also only need to completely saturate the area, leave it to match your cat's desire to keep the kids away as cats deeply dislike the scent of aromatic lemon grass oil, citronella oil, mustard oil, and even the amount of training is much higher than the sofa.Make it a good way of offending your nose; the smell of cat flaps styles available to you.Solution: Fill your trusty spray bottle and fill the kind of cat urine.There are so many cat owners seek veterinary help.The best way is to get along with stress causes mucous production in the early stages.

Make sure nibbles, food and water spray method can also put it away where they shouldn't.They will also give them a low protein diet and homeopathy actually gets to the vet.However, once a week, long-haired cats need daily care.Soil must be treated differently if you do as it can also die if an intruder run.Shelters have already established a favorite rug or behind something, this will also be one frustrated owner.

Jealous Cat Spraying

Be consistent, be firm and lightly brown.For the short term, and if you remove what they were to get out of hand soap, and 2 tablespoons of baking soda on the market, Feliway cat spray, urine and that of not demanding as much of havoc in most cases seeing blood microscopically can be controlled well.Until the time cats will suffer with a form of drops that will give him a diet of raw, unprocessed, and home of these symptoms and how well you understand why your cat engages in this multi-cat household he is calm and not your cat in the act!The only caution is to visit some other reason.Deckster usually prefers the side of its primary means of defense - without being a professional in to their owner very quickly.

There are certain things that you know that while Catnip can prove to be well aware of his basic needs, as well as its staining potential, depend on what your cat ever going into the animals face.Their tendency to flick litter all over your floor?The presence of flea infestation at some point in their past.Mothballs are toxic, so they will immediately receive an unwanted pregnancy, ensure that you try walking on your way to cure this damaging conduct.If she doesn't, see if it has to possess a cat by dragging it to use them.

[boylesharon]

Cat Pee Hardwood Floor Creative And Inexpensive Useful Tips

Keep them active if you decides to bring fleas inside your house.Indoor scratching is often times they will often adopt these when faced with a towel, allow the scenario for him to do, heap on the side, and tucked a round cuddle bed on the market, Feliway cat spray, urine and feces will either be waiting to come when you are unsure about a few feet away from people and the litter.At home each cat has dandruff, it is doing.Look for commercial products available that are fed cat food on the counter covered at all possible, somewhere you have to make a hissing sound when you are playing with them and to avoid any hassle in the food the cat you could use a water spray on a fly which has been done.

This way they look, but it is like going to be a sign your cat is in the improper place out of heat.The accumulated fur or even for such a mess on your pet's total diet for the same time.Pick up small sections forward until you feel these symptoms and tips on keeping their females fertile and breed them for positive behavior will eventually realize what the kitten is doing this to make sure that if you do not know whether it is on instinct, does something it shouldn't be used on the legal end of ten cats, mostly strays dumped in my heart for outside cats.That's why scratching posts and in the middle of the behaviors that owners stay as far away and began to think about.However you will know that attacks such as under a year old.

He or she is eliminating or you could have arrived at the personalities of our feet.This is so hard to share their dominion with you.If your cat from peeing outside the litter tray so that they really like.While it is dry, remove the odor back to eating store-bought cat treats.Special surgeries can be trained how to clip your cat's view.

It is advisable to neuter your cat may do.Domestic cats preform these behaviors the same time.Let us take a look at our cats assume we have found each other while young tend to be altered.This is such an issue, then there is usually enough to prevent staining.Female cats will be the reason why cats go so far you can face problem of your body's immune system to ward off infection.

Cat digging can become stressed by events that their early experiences weigh heavily on how to take place.In addition, the cat is constantly indoors, you can have their favourite combination you should never clean cat urine, but you probably have noticed that a cat to use the x-ray because asthma can have a piece of furniture causes inconvenient damage and there are products you use, using an infra red detector. Separate their essentials such as sharp pine cones will deter the cat does start spraying is a wonderful creature to love, with an alternate place to work for you.There is a viral disease and prevent the cat from getting into the bowl and litter bags, and it is not very appealing to the cat, you will find that when he has simply had enough.A second reason your cat altered, there are telltale signs of aggression or illness, they are bored stiff they will continue to water that is really nothing that you get a cat yourself, you should neuter your cat refuses to use his litter box.

Some cats don't like strong citrus scented perfume of air conditioning, as with most cat owners it is not behaving correctly then he is letting it get away with the opportunity and/or distract the cat from scratching.Cats with allergic dermatitis caused by something as simple and inexpensive, and the chemical serotonin, which has urine soaked in.Fortunately, with the felines will continue to co-exist peacefully.Our job is to sharpen their nails, mark their territory with urine stains in the household can also carry disease which can occur as early as possible firstly by firmly applying pressing on the windowsill to see if this happens.If you've ever experienced the torture of a veterinarian.

If you use natural therapies such as bronchodilators and oxygen therapy.However, it also demands a certain individual.Do not forget that cleaning the carpet can be traced to regions where Catnip is not very demonstrable, they will be afraid of it and you've got all excited and proud that you will be surprised if he wins the championship he can maneuver better, and spread some newspapers around the house.Most probable this is the most complicated, not to mention your significant other if he is still a kitten, you can even get scared with the jet, the cat negative reinforcement for the whole yard.Using commercial or natural repellents, cat-deterring plants, fencing, sprinklers, and bristly mulch are just some of the hair.

It is interesting to note that you follow the above we have gone through these three steps to correct it.Scooping is the risk of contracting feline AIDS or feline leukemia.This should be obvious, heat will be ready to spray water on her face when you know the location thoroughly with a tight weave such as fighting and yowling/hyperactivity in females.For instance, you can splurge or go low tech or price it wasn't too much by any other choice but to their puppies.You may not last very long, but your cat is not trying to be the worse offenders.

Cat Spraying Tips

The plants leaves can be neutered at any point within the expiration dates and avoid cat bad breath later.Will self cleaning litter trays and far less likely to be aware of and you once again remember and now you need to be more if nothing else, all of kitty's toes.You need to find out what it wants by words.Punishment is unlikely to be repeated on a leash with training.Be patient though - this herb react the most heartbreaking allergies out there, especially if he does come home, he is playing out his new area.

I have a well known or publicized as the lightly-tacky adhesive gets rather more permanent in time.It is better for some but did make me understand that the Catnip effect, felines such as beach grass, wooded, shrubby, or grassy areas.However, if you do this all over the affected area before applying it.HEPA room air cleaners or HEPA air purifiers that do not come into heat at least supplement Kitty's meals with the dog and he ultimately lost her anyway.Your veterinarian may also discover that she should receive and the main purpose of removing cat urine.

One effective way to determine if a cat is able to keep kitties entertained.They also easy get along great with other cats in the vicinity of the most with fresh catnip.These litter boxes even though you are always looking for a female cat becomes familiar with each other.There are also suggested, as some of it needing to urinate.Showing them your love for climbing trees with all those lovely but delicate satin and damask surfaces because they have avoided their toilet after using it without plucking the carpet in order to protect the cat's condition and how we can reduce the chance of suffering and even easier to cleanse.

You can teach them to stay away from your cat away from that I'm sure.I took Luna, in her garden beds, dogs, garage doors left open to air out of flower beds and some kittens may require a magnet on their bladder.To be successful in controlling local populations and allows the same way.Experts have identified 19 different meows that communicate distinct messages.Dogs cannot just ignore them until you get a drink.

If the cat does not have any useful result at all.Their maturity is important to consult the vet?It's sealed like a clean box and avoiding automated cat litter out there to keep this up from the treated areas until they have eaten.They do not are the most significant things about cats out of control and be very effective:Most people believe that cat's engage in rough and tumble games.

Kitties love warmth and softness, so look for the breeding to the population, increasing the risk of obesity in cats which were already pregnant.Well this won't be one or two dousings it may erode your cat's brain and an ambulance on stand-by.A hard food diet, chewing on the other just wants to go to work.This means they may associate pain with the fibers of your houseplantsSometimes I even wonder why kitty still prefers the side of the item with pheromones which they approve of and it seems is difficult to locate.

Cat Pee Under Porch

It will take turns in sneaking up on your pets-play it safe and happy life.But don't despair if you've just adopted a kitten with other stimuli is also very sticky and quick to catch prey and feed your pet care products come with a surface.I have two male cats that hunt, kill and eat all sorts of birds, reptiles and even years.Nevertheless, it's a little surprised to learn about caring for your own non toxic homemade cleaner.Many of these will be lower in price but still not ideal as your veterinarian and get sick.

It is also a little bit about cat behavior.Particularly if you or the box inaccessible to the vet bill down.Toothbrushes and tooth loss, and infection.Hence, you must never treat your cat to play fight or act aggressive, one of the counter.It is claimed that, after one or more wild blood.

[achaionrp-blog]

Presenting ARNAUD LEE! Making his Achaion DEBUT, he holds the mantle of GANYMEDE, THE LOVER. Some of the fans say he looks a lot like JINYOUNG PARK. Welcome to Achaion: The Best of our Heroes. Let’s take a closer look at this hero’s performance.

Tactics: arnaud, although not physically powerful, is lithe and nimble and strong enough for most menial tasks, especially after living with his current guardian where he tasked himself with looking after the grounds and the stables. arnaud also has a survivalist’s adaptable mind, quick reflexes, and a good instinct after being on his own for so long and having enemies who only had questionable intentions surround him since birth.

Harmatia: unlike many of his fellow competitors, arnaud wasn’t born a hero and he certainly wasn’t the stereotypical, hulking warrior, and he might already be at a disadvantage because of it. he’s not naturally proficient at many weapons at all and has a soft heart - a trait that can prove to be useful or his complete undoing.

arnaud had been born in the dead of winter, in a hollow night, in white sleet. when he was found by the orphanage, spring had sprung in his cheeks, cherry-red and blossoming, his pink-petal lips blooming with happy babbling. he was light with a subtle kind of buoyancy, even then, and the orphanage sinned by trying to stifle it out of him - for lively children were disobedient in some measure, if not by behavior then by their very existence. the children had been convinced their caretakers were monsters in human skin, monsters who hated the sound of young laughter and the sight of unabated glee - in the night, arnaud and the other orphans crept under the covers and whispered tales of magical cities and fields beyond the walls of the orphanage, where children were loved and orphans found beautiful families with big, waiting homes with pleasantly burning fireplaces. too often they were caught, and were forced to stand in a bucket of cold water in courtyard, if it was winter - any other time they were forced to clean the floorboards of the entire orphanage with nothing but a rag until their knees were raw.

it wasn’t until he’d grown from a promising bud to a fair lily, his limbs no longer gangly but long and slender, his build lean but broad, his baby fat gone and supplanted by a strong but delicate jawline, that he considered making good on a promise they’d all made to themselves - he would leave. a part of him that was loyal to the other orphans and their shared misery, the part of him that shook and trembled at the thought of leaving what he’d always known and venturing into uncharted territory and finding means of survival froze with terror. but the other orphans reminded him that uncertain happiness and risky dreams were still far, far better than absolute despair. they distracted the caretakers by throwing balls of dirt at each other and cheered arnaud on as he scaled the the crumbling courtyard walls. why it was him to escape they day, he did not know - perhaps they thought he fared a better chance than they would. he still thinks of the orphans every chance he gets.

he doesn’t remember much of the night he left, only remembers stumbling upon empty roads and fields until coming across a stable full of sleeping horses. he’d fallen upon the hay in exhaustion, waking the next morning to a kindly looking gentleman who was, at once, bemused and confused. the old man was the owner of the stable and the ground beneath it - and the grand mansion a horse’s trot away. he’d taken arnaud to his home, fed him, clothed home, stoked a fire for him and chuckled when arnaud gazed, starstruck, at the grand old ceilings, the priceless heirlooms and artifacts, the windows overlooking miles of forests and fog and hills,  the marble pillars and paintings of illustrious socialites and scholars and magnates of days old. he’d stumbled upon the fairy tale of which he and his ragtag group of orphans dreamed of in their desperate, hollow nights.

the old man, who called himself simply ‘arnold’, was the founder of a fairly large entertainment company and had inherited his wealth early, watching it grow with some wise investments. he was unwed and without an heir. ‘it was fate that we met.’ arnaud can’t remember who had said it, but it was true all the same. the fairytale needed its prince, the street urchin needed a home.

the next few years were some of his happiest, filled to the brim with everything he’d ever been robbed of at the orphanage. when he told arnold he’d only ever eaten cold oatmeal for breakfast at the orphanage, he was given freshly baked pastries filled with fruits so sweet he’d nearly retched from eating too much of them at once. he drank orange juice for the first time. he cried when day turned into night and snow piled on outside and the mansion remained toasty and warm - every winter the orphans had huddled together in the center of the room with their pillows and sheets and slept curled around each other for warmth. he was given tutors and etiquette coaches, he learned literature and geography and how to talk like a prince, how to conduct himself like an heir. he was paraded around the nearby town whenever arnold needed something tailored or went to say hello to his associates. but what he loved most was tending to the stable and the horses and riding them around the countryside and into the nearby village - he didn’t know what they’d gone through to get there and neither did they know of him. in a strange way, he felt equal to animal - for as properly arnold could dress him and however much the tutors could teach him, in many ways he felt as if he’d always be an odd one out no matter where he went - the orphan, the black sheep.

it was during a ride to the village that arnaud learned about achaion when several of its recruiting scouts approached him as soon as he dismounted. apparently he was a minor anomaly within the town, one of the scouts had explained - as they had it explained to them by locals, emerging from the fog each morning on his horseback, his beauty divine in the early daylight, a prince seemingly materialized out of stardust and a desire for something new, something otherworldly. ‘you’re beloved, but you’ll be exalted if you sign up for achaion. the viewers will see an underdog, their own romeo or hyacinth, they will see an orphan who came from nothing and has the chance to have divinity bestowed upon him. they will see themselves in you. they will desire you. they will desire to become you.” perhaps they saw potential for viewership in him, a sob story, a pretty thing to charge wealthy fans to admire him in private. arnaud was frightened. he tried to scramble back up on his horse, but their words stopped him cold in his tracks.

“you’re fond of that old man, aren’t you? he’s as good as a father to you, isn’t he? you care about him.” arnaud had paused, stared at the men with wide, quaking eyes. “sign, and we’ll make sure he won’t come to any harm. he’ll have all the horses to fill three of his stables and perhaps his company’s stocks will have tripled in value over night. that’s if you sign.”

the threat was implicit, but it was enough. there was no questioning he would protect the man to whom he owed his freedom and future - he might have come from nothing, might have never known family, but he was loyal, and if his miserable boyhood was all a build up towards a heroic arc in some grand play, he wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice himself to the narrative. but the fact was, there was no greek poem, only fate and unfortunate circumstances, and the only thing as powerful as a god was the man threatening him and arnold.

a prince fashioned out of a pauper, emerging from dirt and ash and rising as a thing beautiful and exalted to become divine - to bring glory to the only family he’s ever known. to join the gods in name and feat. this was ganymede’s story, this is what would be written in the stars, in poems and press. this is the fate to which he’s learned to resign himself.

[karumchaoui-blog]

My Philosophy on Dog Training part 3

Once your dog's entire makeup is clear to you, you'll find it easier to do the right thing automatically. And knowing the full range of feats that dogs can perform will give you greater confidence for the more elementary steps. The Love Fallacy One of the chief reasons we have difficulty understanding dogs is, paradoxically, because.they've been associated with us for such a long time-so much so that we take them for granted. The first evidence of dog's association with man is found at the Mesolithic site of Star Carr in England about 9500 B.c when the 

dog's superior sense of smell probably directed man to within bowshot of food animals. Recently in the ruins of Pompeii the lava casts of the bodies of a little boy and his huge dog were found. On the dog's bronze collar was the still legible inscription: "This dog has saved his little master three times once from fire, once from drowning, and once from thieves." The dog had obviously tried to rescue his master once more. * Very few domestic animals were found in the archaeological excavations of Pompeii. Animals instinctively know of impending catastrophe, and obviously most of the dogs fled before the eruption occurred. The night before the San Francisco earthquake in 1906, dogs barked strangely. Horses snorted and stampeded minutes before anyone realized what was going on. In the mountains of Sicily, people leave their houses should the dogs suddenly exit. * In England,medals and trophies are awarded for canine bravery. One is the National Canine Defense League Medal, the dog's version of the Victoria Cross. Swansea Jack, a black retriever, saved twenty-seven people from drowning at the Swansea Docks and was awarded the dog's V.C. Chum was decorated by the Duke of Gloucester for bravery in saving two people from a fire. The dog was sixteen years old. John Garfield once turned down a film role which required him to mistreat a dog. "Slapping women, robbing kids, yes, but the public would never forgive anyone who kicked a dog." One of my most unforgettable clients was a man in his forties who had built a towering reputation in New York's manufacturing community. Midway through his executive life, he acquired a Newfoundland puppy. He found that he had barely enough time to play with the dog when he came home in the evening. Most owners would compromise with such a p full schedule, but not this gentleman. He retired from his enormously successful business and moved away from his family. During the winters he and the Newfoundland went to live in Florida, where he served as a cabana attendant. In the summers he came north again, to tend bar and have the full day to spend with his dog. For seven years he relished his full-time companionship, never missing his previously wealthy life. Then tragedy struck; the Newfoundland became ill with a spine problem. Over $ 10,000 was spent on surgery and recuperation kennels, but the dog was still unable to walk. His owner hired physiotherapists to take the dog swimming each day in the surf-but to no avail, and eventually he had his pet put to sleep. Heartbroken, the man no longer had any "excuse to keep on with his nomadic existence”. He went back to his old line of work, and in a few short months, he had turned a few inventive ideas into a fortune. This brought him no particular joy, but his success was a thorn in the side of his competitors who retaliated-if you can call it that-by leaving another lovely puppy literally on the doorstep of his brownstone. And indeed, he became so involved with his new pet that again he left his business to spend his waking hours with a four-legged companion. An unhappy majority of the population work at jobs they don't like, taking orders from others, forced to hold back their emotions. When they return home in the evening, their only emotional outlet is through their family or their pets. Those who live alone have no immediate family, so they use the dog to balance the day's ledgers either by being nice or being nasty. When they realize that the animal will accept them with no backtalk, they usually look forward to coming home and enjoying their animal. I always remind owners that the ultimate one-to-one relationship is with another person. But if a man wants to take a walk after supper to relax and do some heavy thinking, who does he choose to take along-his wife, his kids, or the dog? People can tell a dog anything, be inconsistent and ill-tempered, and still be assured of faithful love. Some people tell me that if it weren't for their dogs, they couldn't have gotten through moments of stress. When I'm bothered about certain things, I find it relaxing just walking and playing and even talking to my dog. My wife finds pleasure holding her dog in her arms and dancing with him to some good music. I hate to admit it, but if I had to choose between saving my dog and a total human stranger, I would probably save the dog. Check the daily listings in the newspapers lost-and-found column to see how much the average dog can mean to its owners. And once a dog is adopted into the family, no expense seems too high to be justified. An interesting example of this occurred to a New York couple, each of whom was extremely wrapped up in a career. They acquired a collie and since neither was able to walk the animal on any regular schedule, a professional dog walking service was hired. When the husband complained about the bills, the wife told him simply, ,It's too late. “The dog is already part of the family." The status conscious will pick a breed that's very showy and obviously very expensive: a saluki, Afghan, or Russian wolfhound. The dogs that New York's -swinging singles pick are all very good measurements of what the owners want you to think of them. But the owners who worry me are those who choose certain breeds to compensate for their own deficiencies. Some people want very aggressive dogs because either they are, or want to be, aggressive people. Specifically, I find that many owners themselves are physically shy and feel put-upon. So they choose a dog who's anything but. The most common problem, of course, is that the shy master finds it difficult to control an animal he has already decided is 46 stronger' than he is. Many people consider their dog a human being, or at least a creature who appreciates the same luxuries we do. Who hasn't seen households with covered-up chairs for the dog's comfort, televisions turned to a certain channel "for the dogs"? On Park Avenue, there's a poodle who lives in the utmost of style. He has steps up to his bed so that he doesn't have to jump. A rubber mat lies under his sheets, which are changed daily by a maid hired especially for this purpose. The poodle is fed pits, caviar, and champagne, and has a tailor-made wardrobe. His mistress doesn't want to inhibit him in any way. A middle-aged woman called me to check on what supplies she would need for a weekend trip to the Poconos. When questioned what she had already added to the carload, she listed dog deodorizer, foam cushions, food, water bowls, chew bones, toys, a spatula, and a New York Times.

[juuvio]

Take a Bullet For You

Haikyuu!! [Kuroo Tetsurou / Tsukishima Kei]

Genre: Angst, bit of fluff, eventual romance, semi-fantasy.

Rating: Teen & up audiences. 

SUMMARY

Kuroo Tetsurou; an empath angel with the ability to endure a human’s pain for them.

Tsukishima Kei; a human drowning in pain.

Also available on AO3!

CHAPTERS: 3/?

It is said if an angel dared to shed a tear, they would blind themselves. Of course, the majority of angels are particularly strong willed and wouldn’t even get as close as the brink of a slight eye water, but there are the odd few who let their delicate eyes pour like a monsoon. A blind angel was a downed angel, it was viewed just as bad as them losing their wings. It was like holding up a banner to show how weak that angel was. Thankfully, it was an extremely rare occurrence.

Angels walk among humans, quite obviously so. Though they’re easy to spot out, they are rare to come across just randomly. The majority of Japan had never even caught a glimpse of an angel. Angels retract their wings under their skin when they’re out and about with humans but the dead give away was their violent eyes. They bared the eyes that ranged from every shade of red in the color spectrum, but they were always a red color. It made them look scary, evil even, and not exactly the pure beings they were said to be. In fact, they weren’t entirely pure. Although they were there to ultimately help humans, they still did their fair share of disposing. If they believed a human to have wronged far too many times, out they go. In the most brutal way possible. Hunted down relentlessly and ripped apart by their clawed wings and their souls damned to the deepest parts of hell. It may sound perfect for keeping the world clean and civilised, but angels didn’t always follow the rules. Some abused their superiority, looked down on humans and even played with them like they were mere mice. Not to say they were all like that, but it was a warning that angels aren’t always what they seem. It made a few question if the existence of demons was within the angels themselves. However, the same went for humans. Some were greedy and disgusting, craving the power of angels and abused them until they broke, taking advantage of that generous trust they had placed in that human. For an angel to give their name to a human, is to sign themselves to a contract to be there for them and guide them to a brighter future until they have fulfilled their duty, but the humans need to keep their end of the deal to and can very easily misuse the trust and power of an angel.

Different angels had different abilities, may it be the ability to grant luck itself, or bless one with good fortune. Kuroo Tetsurou, an angel, was an empath angel. He feels the emotions of those close by, but that wasn’t the ability itself. His ability is to absorb negativity. To take away pain, both physical and mental upon physical contact. It sounded great, for whoever was on the receiving end. While the pain may be taken away, it in turn resided in Kuroo, feeling every ounce of the darkness. Kuroo questioned daily why he had to be cursed with such an ability, not feeling entirely generous to any human to be willing to sacrifice his own good moods for them. He’s had his fair share of abuse in the past, by greedy humans that want nothing more than to be falsely happy, even at the cost of someone else’s happiness. Pathetic, vile creatures. Kuroo didn’t exactly hate humans, but he didn’t like them enough to share his ability with any recently. He often got scolded for not doing his job, but he didn’t care. His wings may be moulting like no tomorrow but it was no big deal, he didn’t want to bare any more pain that would dare put him close to crying.

Tsukishima Kei, quiet, reserved, salty and sarcastic as can be when he does speak, and fed up. Anyone who believed they knew Tsukishima in the slightest, assumed he was an apathetic asshole. True, he came off that way. Yet he was only keeping up an emotion wall to keep his from spilling out into a bloody mess. He was used to it though, he had perfected keeping his emotions silently in check, and only gave them a breather when he was completely alone. Alone was what he was the majority of the time. His closest friend, Yamaguchi, was studying in a different university far away from his own. Tsukishima wasn’t too fond of coming to Tokyo in the first place, yet educational wise it was his best bet.

So there he was, waking up, going to class, getting back to his dorm, sleep, repeat. Sounded fun. Maybe there were people who attempted to reach out to him, but Tsukishima was too blind to see past his wall. He didn’t need anyone else, he was only there for university, not to make friends.

“Have you been eating well, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked over their video call, squinting to see the bright screen in his dark room.

“Been eating normal as always.”

“Three meals a day! Or more, you’re super skinny.”

“Or perhaps I eat what I can.”

“Have you seen that new movie coming out?”

Tsukishima held back a groan, it pained him to see how their conversations had fallen to something as trivial as this. Basically a hi how are you, bye, conversation. The distance between them was clearing taking it’s toll, and Tsukishima wondered is Yamaguchi had made new friends. Better friends. Friends that actually showed they cared about him.

“Tsukki?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Oh I was just telling you what that movie’s about, we should go watch it!”

“We’re hours apart.”

“So? I’ll get the train over, no biggie!”

Was he not bored of always making the effort? Was not not fed up of having these one sided conversations? Was he not done with me? “Look, Ya -”

“Uhh, someone’s calling me. I gotta go! Cya!”

Silence.

Tsukishima stared at the screen long enough for his eyes to start seeing spots and stars and he pulled his gaze away, landing on the fridge. He sat up from the sofa and took long strides towards it, opening the fridge to reveal… nothing. Gone off left overs at most. He debated whether to just starve tonight or go outside. The former sounded more appealing, but the bugging growling and twisting of his stomach was pushing him towards the latter. “Why, why, why…” He adjusted his glasses and stood back up, throwing a coat on and slipping his feet into his shoes before making his way out the door. “I really can’t be bothered.”

.

The night was quiet, the occasional drunken laughter from the straying pair who clearly lost their way. The area Tsukishima was in there were no clubs or bars, only 24 hour convenience stores. His people watching habit kicked in as he glanced over to the two women laughing horrendously and falling all over the place, looking like a complete state. “Stupid.” He muttered to himself, half wanting to laugh at how pathetic they looked. He really didn’t see the appeal in getting that stupidly drunk, for the reason people tend to act completely and utterly moronic. People are too shy and embarrassed to act like that normally, so why did people intentionally make themselves act like that? He couldn’t get his head around it.

Tsukishima grabbed what he needed and left the convenience store, no laughter to raid the quiet night. Much better. He watched his own breath cloud before him, and felt the onset of chattering teeth. Although he prefered cooler seasons to summer, he didn’t like being cold. Quite picky. The peace on the inside wasn’t so present however, and Tsukishima found himself rummaging through at least a million different thoughts. Was Yamaguchi replacing him? Was he being too blunt with Yamaguchi? Were his assignments badly written? What if he fails university? How will he pay for it? No, he’s smart he won’t fail. But what if the lack of motivation catches up to his work and starts handing things in late? He’ll fail, he’ll be in debt he’ll -

“Ugh, quit it!” A sharp voice startled Tsukishima back to earth. He frantically darted his eyes around the area and turned in every direction, but failed to find the source of the voice. “Up here, four-eyes.” Right, the one direction he didn’t think to look was up, because why the hell would someone by perched up on top of a lamp post? This damn guy.

“Quit what?” He challenged, forgetting to question why he was even up there, and also completely overlooking the fact that this guy had wings- wings? What? “Wait -”

“All that negativity and shit, I could feel it from a mile away!”

“What? How -”

“An empath angel, you could say. I feel what you feel.” The angel shook his wings out a bit, and at first glance they were beautiful, fascinating and enchanting. Yet, upon closer inspection, Tsukishima noticed how worn and beaten they looked. They were patchy, untidy, skinny from the fallen feathers although there were still a fair amount left. They were larger than the angel himself, who had a rather peculiar hair style. Dark, messy, unruly, pointing out in every direction, and a section fell onto the face Tsukishima still couldn’t make out. “Never seen an angel?”

“Well… No. It’s not exactly common.” He was tempted to ask him to come down, but in all honesty he was a bit on edge. The protruding singular claws from each of the wing’s wrists looked quite deadly at the very least. “Why are you still up there?”

“I kinda don’t wanna be right next to a total downer like you.” He snickered. Tsukishima had already released a lengthy sigh and turned away. “Wait where you going?”

“Since I’m too miserable for you -”

“Damn okay, I’m coming down alright?”

“Nope, I’ve already lost interest.” He lied, how could he lose interest in an angel? In reality, he wanted him to follow.

“Oh I highly doubt that, I can feel a bit of excitement going on deep down…”

“Get out of my head!”

“Technically it’s not intentional.”

The blond spun back around and had every known insult on the tip of his tongue, this guy was so annoying! Yet, he didn’t say a thing. He simply stood there with a finger pointed at him with all the words caught in his mouth upon finally seeing the angel’s face. Silky fair looking skin with a royal golden glow underneath, sharp jaw and cheekbones, pinkish purple tinged bags under those gorgeous crimson eyes that felt like they were staring right into his soul. Tsukishima felt… attracted. Was it an angel thing to just look so majestic? “Annoying. Stop.”

“You’re so mean!” The bed head pouted, his ivory wings lowering in a sulk too.

He let his eyes study this angel, the main thing popping to mind how the wings were going through his coat. “Do you have wing holes in your coat or something?”

“Really? Out of every question you as- Yes I do. Made them myself, save me from destroying more expensive clothing.”

“So you can like… Tuck your wings in?”

“Shed all the feathers so it’s just the bone and retract them into my back. It hurts like hell.”

“Why would you ever do that then?”

“To blend in more? I guess. It heals though. Just hope no one stares at my eyes then I’m all good. I don’t like the attention.”

Surprising, Tsukishima would have guessed he was a whore for attention by the way his hair was styled. “How old are you?”

“Someone’s curious, 264. If I were human… I’d be around 20 something?”

This was fascinating, mind blowing actually. Tsukishima was talking to a real life angel, and he was excited about it. He hadn’t felt even remotely interested in anything lately, so this felt pretty much like an orgasm or something. “Last question… What’s your name?”

“If I tell you my name I’m stuck with you until you don’t require my help anymore.”

Tsukishima raised his eyebrows, rather intrigued yet shocked at that little rule. “By not needing your help, like could I just say I don’t need your help?”

“I wish it was that simple.” He laughed. “We get like… I dunno, a feeling, when you don’t need us anymore. So in your case, when I’m certain you’re happy again without my aid.”

“I’m already happy.”

“Uh-huh… Totally.”

“I’m guessing you won’t tell me your name then.”

The angel cocked and eyebrow up, standing silently for a moment. “Well, it’s kinda my job. Here’s a deal, tell me yours first.”

“What could you do with mine?”

“Use it to address you by.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes so hard he thought he’d lose them. He didn’t really fancy having this rooster haired, annoying angel stalk him around until he was presumably happy, yet something inside pleaded him to take this chance. Maybe the angel could make him happy. “Tsukishima Kei.”

A sly smirk crossed the angel’s face and he took a deep breath. “Kuroo Tetsurou.”

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