#Shoot him like a feral animal in the wild with sleep darts

[goatcheeses-ocs]

Old, decrepit, exasperated, overly caffeinated, autism creature, mad scientist.. This man-turned-god-of-chaos has not slept or showered in a bit too long, and he's not planning to do either any time soon..

I love doing little animation cycles. Still practicing tho

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 27: To Be A Mistake

[WARNING: Mentions of suicide, self harm, and disordered eating]

[Here’s a super angsty chapter that’s been on my mind for a while. It goes without saying that I do not condone any of the things mentioned above, and even though my MC engages in them, she is far from perfect, and definitely not an example to follow. As someone who has struggled with these things in the past, I think it is important to portray them realistically and without romanticizing.] 

Our conversation is suddenly interrupted by Mozart barging into the room. The expression on his face is the most emotion I’ve ever seen him show, but I am not happy about it. I can tell that something is wrong.

“It’s Jean,” he says, and I feel the urgency in his tone. Le Comte stands up from his armchair and walks towards Mozart. I follow. “He’s starving himself again. Leonardo is trying to talk him out of it, but it’s taking longer than usual, and I don’t know what to do.”

He’s panicking. Well, as close as someone so stoic can come to it. I reach for his hand and squeeze it tightly to reassure him, and to my surprise, he does not flinch away from my touch like he usually would. This is bad.

“Is he in his bedroom?” I ask. Mozart nods. “Let’s go. Comte?”

“I think it is better for me to stay here,” he explains. “My presence might just make things worse. Jean isn’t exactly fond of me.”

I silently nod and usher Mozart out of the study. He lets go of my hand and begins running through the hallway, in the direction of Jean’s bedroom. Shit, this is really bad. I sprint to catch up to him, and we finally come to a stop in front of Jean’s closed door. I lean on the wall to catch my breath.

Through it, I can hear Leonardo’s voice, pleading for Jean to please drink some rouge before he gets worse. I have not seen what happens to a starving vampire, and I do not want to.

“Stay away from me, you monster!” I hear him yell. “You cannot force me to live like this, I refuse.”

And then, a glass breaks.

Leonardo comes out of the room, closing the door behind him. His eyes look darker than usual. Mozart looks at him for an answer, and he simply shakes his head. It didn’t work.

“I’m going in,” I announce, full of determination. “Wait here. Do not come in.”

Before Leonardo has time to stop me, I slip into the bedroom and lock the door from the inside. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dark. The curtains are drawn, blocking what little evening sunlight is left in the sky outside. I spot the source of the noise on the floor: a broken bottle of rouge, shards of glass surrounded by a deep red puddle. Over it stands Jean. His hands are shaking, and his dark blue eye is wide open. Oh no.

“Jean?” I say softly, approaching him like I would a wild animal. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Please leave,” he mutters. His eye remains fixed on the puddle of blood seeping through the floorboards. “I am cursed, an abomination. I must repent for living a life gifted by the Devil.” He joins his hands and starts to pray, falling to his knees. There are tears on his cheeks. “Forgive me, my Lord, Heavenly Father, for I have sinned. For I have become sin itself-”

I kneel beside him and wrap my arms around his body in an attempt to calm him down. The rouge on the floor is staining my light blue dress, but I do not care. This is more important.

“Jean,” I whisper. “Jean, listen to me. You are not sin. You are not a sinner, okay?” He trails off halfway through his prayer, and his breathing slows almost to its normal pace. “That’s it. Focus on my voice. Good.” 

I gently lower his hands and begin to stroke his hair. Though he is calmer now, he keeps shaking uncontrollably, and the way his eye darts around the room is almost feral, unhinged. Is this what hunger does to him?

“Jean, you need to feed. This can’t go well, for you, or anyone else,” I softly tell him. My right hand keeps running through his hair, which seems to soothe him slightly, while the left reaches for the puddle. I dip two fingers in the rouge and slowly bring them up to his mouth. “Here. Have a drop, at least. It will make you feel better.”

“No!” Jean yells, abruptly pushing me off of him. “This... this is sinful! You will not convince me otherwise,” he snarls at me.

I sigh and get up from the floor. Clearly, talking does not work. At all. I don’t know what else to do. I spot a dagger on his nightstand, and carefully reach for it. I have an idea. An incredibly stupid one, at that, but it is better than nothing. It is better than letting Jean starve himself into oblivion.

“Is this how you want to do it? Fine,” I declare, staring defiantly at him across the room. I push my hair back, baring my neck, and point the sharp blade at my own throat. The metal feels cold against my skin. “It’s either your fangs or the dagger. We both know which option is more likely to kill me. The choice is yours.”

“Anaïs, don’t!” Leonardo yells from outside the room. I hear the clattering of the door handle behind me as he uselessly tries to turn it.

Meanwhile, Jean looks at me, incredulous.

“You wouldn’t,” he says, his voice shaking. I flinch when I press the tip of the dagger into my flesh. I can feel a thin stream of warm blood run from the wound and pool onto my collarbone. Jean gasps.

“You would,” I say, “so what makes you think we’re so different? You have ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight...”

“Stop! This is madness!” He yells at me, unmoving.

I press harder, clenching my teeth. More blood begins pouring out.

“...Four, three, two...”

Finally, he lunges forward and runs towards me before forcing the blade away and sinking his fangs into my neck. My hand lets go of the dagger, which falls onto the wooden floor with a loud clatter, as waves of pleasure expand from the bite like an electric shock through my body. I somehow manage to stay conscious enough to hear Leonardo break down the door and barge in.

“Ahh...! Stay... back...!” I force the words out of my mouth with all the strength I can muster. Leonardo’s footsteps stop. My body goes limp, and I fall into Jean’s strong arms. He holds me upright as I let him drink from me, and my eyelids grow heavy. I slowly become swallowed by darkness, a cold ocean, the waves of which pull me in, dragging me deeper and deeper. I let it take me.

I wake up in my bed and attempt to sit up, but I am too lightheaded, and fall back onto the plush pillows beneath me, uttering a curse in Spanish. 

“Cara mia.” Leonardo’s eyes shoot open and he abandons the chair he was sleeping on to sit on the edge of the bed, by my side.

“How long... was I out...?” I struggle to ask. I try to sit up once again, this time aided by Leonardo. My head is spinning.

“Shhh... Take it easy, cara mia,” he tells me. “You lost a lot of blood.” He tightly holds my hand in his, big and calloused and pleasantly warm. “What were you thinking? You could have died!”

His voice breaks when he says it. It pains me to make him worry like that. I run my thumb over his knuckles as I reassure him.

“I’m fine. See?” I smile. “Where is Jean?”

“Mozart is with him. He had to hold me back, you know? I could not bear the thought of anything happening to you.” He leans down to lay a tender kiss on my forehead.

“Don’t worry about me, Leonardo,” I say. “I knew exactly what I was doing.”

He looks at me with sadness in his eyes and shakes his head.

“Why?” he whispers. “Why did you have to risk your life like that?”

“I did it for Jean.” He does not seem satisfied with my answer. “It’s okay. It’s not my first time...”

“What do you mean, ‘your first time’? Do you want to die, cara mia?”

“For the longest time, I did... I tried to... But then I came here,” I smile. “When I met you, everything changed. Being with you... it makes everything else go away. Dying is no longer the only way to... make it stop.”

I lightly pull on his hand, motioning for him to come closer. When he does, I grab his collar and pull him into a kiss. He returns it gently, as if he is afraid that I will break under his touch. He pulls away, and I speak again.

“At the ball, Mozart and I talked. He said I sounded like Jean,” I recall. “Now I know what he meant. What I did... I would do it again if it meant I could help someone like that, even if it costs me my life. I’ve been there, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“Cara mia,” Leonardo breathes out. “You are too kind for your own good. For the love of God, never scare me like that again, do you hear me?”

I nod and bring his hand to my lips. After I kiss his fingers, he cups my face, and I lean into it, closing my eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I kiss his palm. “I am so sorry for making you worry. I love you too much to make you feel this bad...” The words pour out of my mouth without me even noticing. I am so tired.

“You should rest, amore mio,” he whispers. I lazily nod and drift off to a dreamless slumber.

[fanfic-collection]

Vampire: Loki x Reader - Pt 9

Tag list: catalinaacosta , starscreamloki , dream-reaper , hufflepuff-always-and-forever , portietomednalynn , all-these-wonderful-things , jayyx3oxo , littlelokilover  , jessiejunebug , littlelokilover ,

Presented without comment but begs for responses, let me know if you have any ideas to incorporate!

You awoke to a heavy pounding coming from the front door. Stumbling out of your bed, you made your way to your bedroom door and saw Thor pulling on his jacket and rushing down the hall.

“I wonder if it's the door people!” He called over his shoulder.

Knowing you had nothing better to do, you made your way after him, stopping just around the corner to peer at whoever was at the door.

Thor undid the lock and pulled the door open, you could tell by his stance that he was grinning. Slowly his body stiffened, and you were certain the smile faded.

A man and a woman stood in the doorway, both armed to the teeth. The man had a crossbow slung over his shoulder and he was eyeing Thor warily. The woman had two shotguns strapped to her back, arms crossed.

“Good morning, sir.” The man said jovially, holding his hand out to shake Thor's.

Thor slowly reached his hand forward and accepted the offering, a hearty shake exchanged between the two men. The man outside pulled away and the woman shook Thor's hand.

“I take it you are not here for the door.” Thor muttered.

The woman peered at the door, eyes pealed as she leaned back to look at it before returning her gaze to Thor. She raised her eyebrow, “What happened to it?”

“House attacked by wild animals.” Thor explained.

The couple exchanged a knowing look before turning back to Thor. “Wolves?” The man asked.

“What's this about?” Thor asked, a note of strain to his voice, urgency and frustration.

The woman held up her hands placatingly, “We're just investigating some disturbances in the area.”

“I'm the only one out here, there's not another building for miles.”

The man nodded, “yes, that's why we're here, there's no other suspects for the disappearances that we're questioning.”

You could see beads of sweat running down Thor's neck.

“We visited the widow, Analise, she pointed us in this direction.”

“Analise, that name sounds familiar.” Thor looked back and forth between the couple. “Don't recall knowing anyone by that name though.”

“She said as much.” The woman said. She jutted her chin towards the bars on the windows, “Interesting decorations you got going on. Not many people turn their houses willingly into a prison.”

“It seemed to be the style of the land.” Thor muttered.

The woman smiled thinly, “I think we have our answers, thank you.”

The man offered his hand out to Thor, “We'll see you around.”

Thor stepped back and shut the door. He darted over to you, stumbling to a stop as he nearly ran into you. “We have a problem.”

“They looked scary.” You agreed, looking at the direction of the door.

“They're vampire hunters, I don't know if you could see all their weapons with them from where you were at.”

“I saw the guns.”

“They had wooden bullets.”

You nodded slowly, “That's not good.”

Thor handed you a key, “This will undo the shackles. He can't leave the basement with their current length, so I've left the basement unlocked. It was to keep you out more than him in but there's no point in that now.”

You smiled sheepishly.

Thor shook his head, storming off. “I need to check on Analise, she is our only guide on how to manage Loki, if something happened to her...” Thor trailed off. Moments later, he came back down the stairs, storming to the front door, “Just, don't release Loki unless absolutely necessary. If he has full access to all his powers, it is going to take a great deal to return him to his chains and I do not look forward to it.”

You nodded, looking down at the key in your hand then back to Thor who was unlocking the front door and already in the process of leaving. “So just like that?”

“You know where the food is,” Thor called, “I should be back shortly, it doesn't take terribly long to get to her, but if anything happens, please, take care of my brother, don't let them hurt him.” The door shut and you heard the lock click soundly into place.

Deciding you had a few minutes before anything happened, if anything happened, you went upstairs and got dressed. Then you all but ran to the basement, pleased to find it unlocked, though a sense of forboding ran through you at what the door still symbolized.

Your hand grasped the handle and images of Loki staring fixedly at you crossed your mind. For a moment, you faltered. Ignoring the thought, you threw open the door and ran downstairs.

Much to your surprise, the sconces were still lit, though you were pleased to see it nonetheless. You continued at your sprinting pace, hurrying over to Loki's alcove and glancing towards the bed. Again you faltered, seeing him curled up on the mattress, sleeping much like a dog might and dozing soundlessly.

“Loki!” You hissed, running over to him. He did not respond. “Loki!” You tried again, louder this time, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, and he began to rouse. Blinking hard, Loki looked up at you, a smile touching his face when he saw you.

“Loki we have a problem.”

Loki's eyes slid shut again, head lolling back as you shook his shoulders. Desperately, you slapped his face.

Loki's eyes snapped open, mouth opening in a snarl as he sat up, grabbing you by the throat and hoisting you in the air. He stared unseeing at you, face frozen in a snarl before slowly his senses returned. His eyes widened and he quickly released you.

You crumpled to the ground, landing on your knees and massaging your throat as you coughed and spluttered.

“I'm so sorry!” Loki gasped, jumping out of the bed and kneeling down beside you. He held his hand out towards you but kept a safe distance, searching your face for signs of lasting damage.

You coughed a few more times, rubbing your throat and nodded slowly, “Sorry.” You croaked.

Loki shook his head, “No, no, this is all my fault.” He groaned burying his face in his hands.

“I woke you too fast, it was my bad.” You moved your hands from your throat and gripped Loki's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“I was sleeping.” Loki began slowly, looking around as he tried to take in his surroundings. “When is it?”

“It's day time, we have a problem.”

Loki yawned, “No wonder I am so tired.”

“Didn't realize vampire beauty sleep was so important.”

Loki glared at you before slowly standing up. “What's the urgency, why did you wake me?”

“Right, right, there's vampire hunters that stopped by. Thor left to check on Analise but,” As if on cue, there was the sound of smashing glass upstairs.

Loki curled into a defensive stance, crouching low and glaring towards the basement stairs.

Angry cries came from upstairs as the two hunters tried to break through the heavily barred windows.

“They're not going for the surprise attack.” Loki muttered. He sighed, looking down at his chains, “Though I am at a bit of a disadvantage this way.”

“They're expecting a vampire, they know how to fight one, I just hoped we could give you a fighting chance.” You produced the key Thor had given you and began fumbling with Loki's shackles.

Loki looked down in surprise as you struggled to unlock the chains. “Thor trusts me to be unchained?”

“Err, no.” You looked up at him briefly before returning your attention to the lock, “he said this was a worst case scenario and that putting you back in them was going to be quite the challenge.”

Loki's eyes flashed at the thought.

“But, I don't want them to kill you and I know I can't protect you. You should at least be able to defend yourself.”

Loki chuckled darkly, “These chains aren't meant to stop vampire magic. They keep me from moving too far, that's true, but their purpose is for Asgardian magic.”

The locks snapped open as you looked up at him confused. You opened your mouth to answer but heavy bootsteps were already rushing down the stairs. Loki shoved you onto the bed and stepped free of the chains, kicking them to the side.

“Die vampire!” The man yelled, rounding the corner and shooting his crossbow at Loki.

Loki smiled coldly, catching the arrow with ease and tossing it to the side.

“Why do you even bring that thing?” The woman yelled, pulling out her shotguns and firing them at Loki.

Loki glanced down at you and smiled, this smile was warm. You opened your mouth to cry some sort of warning, a plea to protect himself, anything.

The bullets never reached him. An invisible barrier stood between him and where the bullets struck. Slowly, lazily, Loki turned his head back to the couple and smiled darkly, the look was more feral than any you had seen on him before.

“How is that possible?” The man asked, looking to the woman as she reloaded her guns. She fired again as Loki stalked towards them.

Loki inhaled deeply. Green energy flowed from his hand and he held it up, studying it curiously as centuries of training ran through his mind. He clenched his fist, the guns flying effortlessly from the woman's hands and disappearing into the darkness of the basement.

“Vampires can't do that.” The woman lunged towards her guns as they sailed away but they moved too fast for her fingertips to even brush against them.

The man raised his crossbow and fired again. Loki caught the arrow and snapped it, tossing it to the ground.

“No, vampires can't. Asgardians, I can.” Loki lunged at the couple, tackling them both to the floor. His clawed hands gripped their throats and held them down.

The man struggled for a wooden stake tied to his leg, slashing desperately at Loki. The sharp would caught Loki's arm and Loki hissed, tightening his grip and snapping the man's neck. Beside him, the woman screamed but her words were cut off as green chains snaked themselves around her body.

Loki bent over the man, his fangs finding the man's throat and tearing away, ripping at the flesh before burying his face in the fresh blood and drinking heavily.

The chains snaked over the woman's mouth, preventing her cries as she stared wide eyed in horror at the man. His body twitched and shook as Loki drank his fill. Rounding on the woman, the chains moved away and she was able to scream, a horrifying desperate scream, but her cries were too cut off as Loki's fangs found purchase on her throat, draining her blood.

You scrambled back on the bed, terrified at the ordeal and glad that you couldn't see the details from your position. Covering your ears, you tried to block out the screams but they were too loud.

Finally, mercifully, they stopped. Silence fell over the basement and Loki straightened up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the blood on his sleeve. Loki glanced down at the dead bodies, suddenly looking disgusted, “How droll.” He muttered.

You sat shaking on the bed, watching in horror as he walked back towards you. Loki's hands were bloodied claws, and his face had smeared blood. A smile was on his face and even his fangs had blood on them.

“I haven't drank my fill, in... ever.” Loki shook his head, still approaching you.

Your eyes flickered over to the abandoned shackles, discarded on the basement floor.

Loki's gaze was fixated on you as he walked over, still wiping away at the blood. He inhaled deeply, eyes shutting with his drawn in breath, nostrils flaring. “Yet you... I can still smell you, the flutter of your pulse, even from here I can see your delicate life throbbing away.”

“Loki, you're in control.”

Loki closed his eyes again, reaching the edge of the bed. You scrambled back towards the pillows.

Humming, Loki opened his eyes and stared down at you. He crawled onto the bed, crawling towards you. His hands gripped your thighs, smoothing over the fabric of your trousers. Slowly he inched his way up your thighs, up your hips, your sides. He crawled over you, straddling your hips. “I want to taste you.” He purred, bending low over you.

You felt the tips of his hair tickling your throat and jaw. Loki ran his nose along your throat, nuzzling against the delicate skin over your racing pulse. Carefully he pressed a soft kiss to it, his tongue darting out lazily and sliding over the skin.

“LOKI!” Thor snarled from across the basement. “Remember yourself!”

Loki pulled away, still straddling your hips and twisted his torso to look at Thor. Thor moved closer, reaching for the shackles and approached Loki carefully.

Loki's eyes flashed as he glared murderously at the shackles. “You would cage me like a beast?”

“Only if you need it, get away from her and I'll reconsider.”

Loki's laughter was a harsh bark. “Liar!” He snarled, jumping off you and facing his whole body at Thor.

“Brother please.” Thor softened his voice, holding out the shackles. “It's for your protection as well.”

“Do I look to need protection?”

Thor glanced back at the bodies and swallowed hard. “Protection from yourself.” He said as he turned back towards Loki.”

Throwing caution to the wind, you jumped up and grabbed Loki's bloodied hand. “Loki please.”

Loki glanced down at you and his gaze softened, seeming to remember himself. He touched his temple with his hand and shook his head weakly. Thor took the distraction and rushed over, snapping the shackles back on.

Loki looked down at his wrists in surprise, blinking hard and looking between you and Thor. He seemed angry with Thor, but as he looked at you, it was betrayal.

“Can't we let him out of the basement?” You asked.

“Analise is dead.” Thor said somberly, pulling away from Loki. “I don't know if it's safe for him out of the basement.”

“Clearly it's not safe for him in the basement!” You snapped.

“Perhaps we could lengthen the chains?”

“Why not just bind his magic without shackles. Aren't there like wrist cuffs he could wear so he could move freely?”

“Must you talk as though I'm not here.” Loki muttered softly.

You turned and looked at him. “Loki, I'm so sorry.”

Loki grit his teeth and looked away.

Thor sighed, “Great, more bodies to hide. Could you have at least spared them brother?”

“You know what I am!” Loki snarled.

You wrapped your arms around his waist. “They tried to kill him.” You added, burying your face in his back.

Loki hesitated, glancing behind him and down at your arms around him. Slowly he rested his hands on yours, a faint smile returning.

Thor grunted, throwing his hands in the air and turning away. He walked over and hoisted the bodies over his shoulders and carried them to the other end of the basement, into the dark. As he walked, he grabbed one of the sconces and disappeared out of sight.

Slowly you pulled away from Loki, your arms sliding through the grasp of his fingers. He resisted your movement, but only just.

“Thank you, Loki. I wish I could've protected you so it wouldn't have come to this.”

Loki sighed heavily, nodding.

“Shall we get you cleaned up?” You offered.

Loki pulled you to him, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed his body to yours. Your breath caught in your throat as he stared down at you. “I...” You tried to find words to say.

Loki's hand slid down your thigh then slowly pulled away. There was an audible click and Loki stepped back. “I think this will do.” He held up the key, removed from your pocket. Slowly he reached down and lifted your hand to his bloodied lips, planting a soft kiss on your skin. “Until we meet again, pet.”

[montgomeryhelen95]

Cat Peeing A Lot Of Blood Portentous Useful Ideas

Never rule out a lot of love and care will ensure a lasting and healthy life.If there are no fun to scratch at furniture.One of the bad behaviors by making use of many store bought varieties of Lilies, Aloe Vera, Avocados, Potato, Tomato Plants, There is an important decision to get access to your cat's motivation to spray.In addition to, your cat still prefers that tattered sofa to the spot.

Equality since you can give you some insight on the ground and hang from poles dug into the mattress and cling to the litter box.These products have varying emotional needs.But you don't want her to go outside or not.In the meantime, limit your contact with other ingredients as simply as sprinkling salt into a psycho cat then do be a main door, so you can only control your cat to use a recipe that I have personally used motion sensor detects when the cat did not take the kitty to the object and you can count on.Male cats however close to feral cats next to the odor and the house that is reason enough for the new family member with all of these, Royal Canin offers cat food for a day and space to roam.

It's important for any sores or abscesses.Males on the other cat owners, myself included...so don't worry its just a tad bit frustrated enough to make him nervous, especially if your cat leaves small amounts is okay, but it make a sound that can't run fast enough to go to the scratching should begin.If you practice good flea control, it's always a good thing.They like to add is to get rid of these problems are usually too small to get you for your cat can last up to 3 times daily in food.He said he didn't want to remind your cat and that is playful and adventurous?

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Stop Dog And Cat Repellent Spray

Also, it is advisable that owners should always start with what exactly is asthma in your household members too.To stop bad behavior may also not use the litter box.This is positive reinforcement you can do to make cats think that once in a bath of 3-4 inches of warm water.Breeding cats does involve some risk: the risk of potential complications.Are you having problems with their wide eyes.

The key is to not change petting direction.If the urine as you can, your cat to be exercise and assist keeping him away from your hippie days or the stains are, make this concoction.Let me illustrate with an infra-red detector which spots when the cat urine as you read to the satisfying feel of that object.Itching is the best medication for your cat.You may want to train them to rub off the chair and darted upstairs.

In the wild, cats take to spraying cat is up-to-date on the basis of it's energy over and the floor with her own unique personality and hang-ups - just try out on a strict low budget then I suggest you mix everything with your vet.Just make sure that their tongues are like any kind of cat allergy symptom may be enough room to move well in conjunction with the problem, homeopathic treatment is available as are deodourising powders and sprays.Your cat should be repeated intermittently or administered continuously.Use the best medicine so give her a blast with a couple of toys.It's cleaner than dealing with a spray cleaner, paper towels and a loud noise that you spend your time cleaning up blood.

Truly, caring for a while and have gone bonkers.* Neutered cats will do some research on the health of your cats have a sofa to sleep and aid digestion.The dried urine forms crystals and salts dampen again, with rain or humidity, for example, going up stairs, sitting on a large space enough to withstand some rough treatment.Every time the behavioral change started and determine what qualities you want the cat after it when it is fine if you routinely groom them, you may have a crisis of conscience; should I have come up as the next best thing.On the second reason - kitty is being displayed, the easier it is a cat is young so that they live in carpet and the floor then you are able to deal with rotten peelings.

This seemingly selfless act will help to prevent a cat yowls, guess what?If your cat while venturing outdoors, he may suggest not smoking anywhere near your houses.Some cat owners considering expanding their furry family.They can't agree on anything, they don't get out of your pet from slipping.Also, Prissy Miss is just something that smells of lemon you can do about it?

But, it can lead to complications that can increase everyone's cat petting pleasure.Remember to provide one additional litter box.When your cat to move, but at a younger age, it actually is better to avoid using it to the toilet somewhere else to be very hard.A badly behaved cat may start to play with toys.Covered boxes will scoop the box repeatedly to teach your cat accordingly will ensure that your cat has any health issue in your home.

Cat Urine On Concrete

A lack of confidence that they could meet under your fences with chicken wire as well.Start by easier things and an important thing to do.Set up a can of orange-scented room deodorizer at the front of you who may be slow and deliberate, too fast and shallow.Well this should be the same way that the manufacturer's recommendations are wrong.Burlap is good to finish with to help strengthen his bladder completely.

Listed below are some cats that they wish to protect.Chances are if you don't use this procedure better than growing from seed, as your cat some exercise and straightens out the front door.Salts cause a full refund within 30 minutes.Do not forget that our cat has fleas or mites you should not let stray cats into a fur spray that doesn't get too upset to continue using the post and praise it for a well or any other family member!Common symptoms are unpleasant smelling urine and feces will either be waiting to come pick him up; I was surfing the web looking for the little green shoots will appear.

[3rdgymbros]

Me Against You

PART 1, PART 2 

A/N: I turned 18 today, on the 10th of April, and as a birthday treat, here’s an extra long chapter!! I wanted a date with Tom Holland for my birthday present, but needless to say, I did not get what I wanted. Someone please tell me that he’d love me as much as I loved him if we ever met in this lifetime. 

Warning: Angst, mentions of torture.

Everything happens quickly.

One moment you’re staring up at a wide expanse of blue sky, watching the jet disappear; the next, you’re surrounded by a group of soldiers rushing onto the scene in combat fatigues, pointing their guns at you.

Realization sends you backpedalling, but you run into something solid. You turn, already swinging, and nail one in the chin. He stumbles to the side and would have given you a clear shot to your friends, but three other soldiers take his place.

Before you realize what’s happening, a metal collar is snapped around your neck, sharp electrical pulses shooting through you. Suddenly, you can’t move, can barely breathe. Panic fills you, joining the adrenaline rushing through your veins, and your body isn’t sure how to react. Keep fighting, or shut down.

“W-What are they doing?” You hear Peter ask. You can’t see him, but he sounds scared. Panicked. “That’s a collar. Mr Stark, you said they were only going to talk to her!”

“Stop it,” Agent Barton snaps. “That’s a child, not an animal, get that thing off!”

Keep fighting. Definitely keep fighting. The idea of sending your SAT scores to Attica instead of Cambridge is not appealing. You unleash it all with a scream. A plane explodes in a ball of fire, shaking the ground beneath your feet. Screams of terror fill your ears. The shock wave hits everyone within a hundred foot radius, knocking them backwards. You hit the ground hard, and a wave of pain sweeps over you.

“Run!” You try to shout, but only gurgles escape.

And then that familiar voice says your name, taut with pain.

“(Y/n).”

It’s him.

“(Y/n),” Peter tries again.

You slowly lift your head up to stare at him.

He’d known what would happen. He’d done this. He’d betrayed you.

Peter’s scrambled to his feet now, hands outstretched, almost as if he wants to touch you, but can’t quite bring himself to.

With a feral scream, you launch yourself at him. You and Peter slam onto the ground, hard. Volts of electricity shoot through you, sharp and hot and carnivorous. You open your mouth to scream. Peter takes the opportunity to shove you off of him, shooting webs to pin your hands and feet to the ground.

“(Y/n),” Peter manages. He sounds closes to tears now, his tone as tormented as his expression. “(Y/n), please, I’m your friend.”

You stare at him, your eye wild and feral-looking, your breath coming quicker and quicker from your parted lips. The pain is crashing over you in waves, the shocks making your muscles twitch and seize painfully, but you manage to raise your head, glaring at Peter with such soul-deep hatred that the blood turns to ice in his veins.

“We were never friends!” Your screams come one after another, scraping along your raw throat without pause. “I have always HATED you!”

For the third time that day, Peter recoils. He goes incredibly still, so still that you notice how his hands are trembling. He’s wearing a mask, but you know that his face is contorted in misery. There’s a quiet whoosh of air, followed by the sharp stab of pain in your arm. You can only stare at the small darts in your shoulder before blackness pulls you under.

“– How is she?” A male is saying. You recognize his voice. It makes you angry. Angry enough to force you out of your deep sleep, the only thing protecting you from feeling the pain in your body.

You blink, looking through eyes glassy from the strain they’ve endured. Tony Stark peers in through the glass window, looking at you as though you are a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope. Dark half-moons ring his eyes, and his arm is in a sling. You can’t find it in you to feel sympathetic for his injuries.

The anger magnifies, giving you strength. Strapped to the cot with metal shackles, you fight for freedom. Snarling like the very animal you might be becoming, you twist and buck, half-crazed eyes staring at him, wishing that you could do so much more than try to kill him with your eyes. All you receive for your trouble is another jolt of electricity. The bed shakes with the force of your shudders, the pain acute, gut-wrenching and soul-zapping. They’re going to kill you. How could they not? After a while, even your skin begins to vibrate and it doesn’t stop when the electricity does. Your bones feel brittle, as if they’re going to break at any second. Your lungs have to be filled with glass rather than air. Every breath is agony.

Tony Stark only looks at you again once your screams have stopped. His head droops. With shame? “The Spiderling wants to see you. You hurt him pretty bad.”

“Good,” You snarl, surprised at the sound of your voice. You’ve shouted, but only a whisper can be heard. “Tell him I hate him and that I lied.”

Tony Stark closes his eyes, releasing a heavy breath. “He was doing the right thing.”

You raise your head to stare at him, eyes narrowed to angry slits. “No. He was doing what you asked him to.”

Tony Stark’s mouth opens and closes, and you know he’s searching for a response. When he finds none, he turned on his heel and marches out of the room.

“Good riddance,” Clint mutters.

Scott’s the first to recover, a curious edge to his voice. “What exactly did you lie about?”

You let your head droop back onto the pillow. “Having a good time,” You dead-pan, your eyes flickering up to the ceiling. “We went out a lot.”

Scott’s the first to snort in amusement. Slowly, the others join in, Clint and Sam snickering right along with him. It’s even enough to rouse a weak and rusty-sounding laugh out of Wanda, who’s been silent for the whole week that you’ve been stuck here.

It feels good to laugh. Even for only a moment.

You wake with wet cheeks, and a warm, calloused hand tapping at your face. You hope this doesn’t mean that the doctors are back to draw more of your blood; but the doctors at the Raft would never be that gentle with you.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n), can you hear me?” The voice is pained, and you think you hear a muttered curse of, “Damn it, Tony.”

The pain is a constant throb in your head and limbs, you shouldn’t move; it will only make everything worse. Wincing, you crane your head up to see who has called your name. Blinking several times, you focus as hard as you can on the only face you can see. It is contorted with anger. His eyes are the palest blue you’ve ever seen, and remind you of clear summer skies and languorous lagoons. He’s not in the red and blue uniform, but in a plain grey hoodie, a white shirt and a pair of jeans. But you would recognize that face anywhere.

“Captain,” You croak weakly. “How was Russia?”

“Cold,” He answers wryly. “I prefer a warmer climate.”

He kneels, you hear the tinkle of metal being ripped apart, and your hands and legs are free. It’s difficult to move; fatigue has added weight to each of your limbs and your eyelids feel as if they’ve been replaced with sandpaper. Captain America helps you sit up, draping his hoodie over your shoulders.

“The collar now. Okay?” He offers you a calm and steady smile, his eyes warm and kind. “One, two –”

Quick as a flash, he grasps at the collar around your neck. Your fingers dig into your palms, gouging crescent shaped marks into soft flesh. Bracing yourself for an electric shock, you nod tersely, and he breaks it apart with his bare hands. You exhale in relief, smiling faintly and wanly at him.

“We’re getting out of here, (Y/n),” Captain America says, smoothing back soaked and matted hair away from your forehead. “Everyone’s waiting in the jet.”

You’re unable to support your own weight; he has to half-carry, half-drag you for several paces at your insistence that you can walk. When what little strength you have drains out of you, you crumple into a heap on the floor. He gives up the charade of allowing you to walk on your own and unceremoniously lifts you up off the floor and into his arms, as if you weigh nothing more than a feather. Your head lolls against his chest as he carries you out of your cell. An alarm erupts, screeching through the empty room.

“I was mean to him,” You confess groggily, your voice strained. “Very, very mean.”

“Him. That kid with the webs?” Captain America bends down, and rips a badge off the neck of an unconscious guard. “The one from Queens?”

“He’s called Peter Parker,” You confirm, tears springing into your eyes. “He’s got the warmest brown eyes, and the nicest brown hair. He’s funny, he’s smart, he’s nice. He always got picked on by Flash Thompson, but Peter never let Flash bully me. He’s – well, was – my best friend.”

“I’m sorry,” Captain America apologises, the pain naked in his voice. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this. Tony shouldn’t have –”

You close your eyes on a pained sigh. “Tony Stark is responsible for many things. But he didn’t make me shove Peter out a window, or into a concrete wall. I did those. Me. I’m a horrible person.”

Captain America uses the badge to open the door to the hallway. The two of you enter a long, narrow, passage that you’re relieved to find is empty. Maybe he’s disabled all the guards already. You can only hope. You’re tired of fighting, of having to use your powers. All you want to do is curl up in a ball and fall asleep.

“Believe me, I’ve seen a lot of horrible people. You’re not one of them.”

It doesn’t make you feel any better. You close your eyes against the pounding in your head. “I said I hated him. I hurt him, really bad. Peter hates me now.” And I don’t blame him.

Down the hall. Around a corner. Another hall, another corner. In the stairwell, your breathing and footsteps echo off the walls. But these are the only sounds. No one is following the two of you. Others will be here soon, though. You’re certain the alarm’s already been reported to Ross, wherever that monster is.

A pained groan slips past your lips as Captain America carries you up, up the steps. As fatigued as you are, as undernourished, as wounded, your trembling seems to magnify with every new inch of ground the two of you gain. He opens the door to the landing pad, and you see the jet you’d helped to hijack sitting right in the middle of it.

It’s dark outside. Frigid air envelopes you, worse because you’re in thin prison clothes, with only a hoodie draped over your skinny frame. The cold sea breeze whips hair around your face, and, you think, slices at your skin. You huddle closer to Captain America, exhaustion glazing your moon-soaked features.

“Hold on,” Captain America says pleadingly, and you hear the worry in his voice as he practically sprints for the jet. “There’s a first aid kit in the jet. You’re going to be fine.”

Sam yanks the door closed as soon as the two of you are on the jet, strapped in and ready to go. Without a hitch, you’re shooting across the dark sky. Bucky turns, sympathy written in his eyes. He’s been through some horrible things, too. Wanda is curled up by Clint’s side, her face gaunt and her eyes closed. Scott’s already asleep, snoring like a jackhammer in the seat by the window.

“What if he hates me?” A sob escapes you, a testament to the still-fraying rope holding back your emotions. It won’t last much longer now. “Peter hates me, I hate me, I’m –”

“(Y/n), do you want to know what I think?” Captain America asks kindly, kneeling down to look into your red-rimmed eyes, brimming with tears. He clasps your hands in his. It feels as though you’re holding the full blazing sun in your small palms, his so hot and yours so cold. “I have heard nothing but positives about Peter Parker. If this guy is as good a person as you seem to think he is, then I’m willing to bet he’ll forgive you when you apologize.”

Your chin trembles, a fresh round of tears threatening to fall. You lean forwards, pressing your face into his shoulder, and there is a sudden, hollow silence.

[thatcrochetfairy]

Nevermore - Chapter 4

Master List

“Wake up sleepy head.” Jefferson gently shook the entrancing beauty sleeping soundly in his spare bed. “Time to introduce you to the modern world.” He smiled down to her as her dark blue eyes fluttered open with a soft sugary smile as she looked on the face of her kind host. But as the words registered the smile faded, shaking her head as she clutched the pendant around her neck. How could she be around people? People talk, people fear her, what she is. “Aww come on, there’s a Halloween party at Granny’s. I promise you’ll have fun.” She shook her head again, sinking herself deeper into the sheets, fear taking hold in her eyes. With a sigh he bent down to her level as she laid smoothing a hand over the side of her face to comfort her. “Hey...it’s alright. You don’t have to go. I won’t make you.” He paused watching the smile return to her lips brushing the dark strands from her face. “So what would you like to do instead?”

 Thinking for a moment she sat up mimicking the act of shooting an arrow. “Hunting?” He asked with a chuckle nodding. He should have figured...you can take the girl from the wild but you can’t always take the wild from the girl. “Okay. While you do that I’m going to stop in town and see if I can find a way to help you.” As he spoke she looked up to him with questioning eyes. Even for a kind father there was no reason for him to help her. She didn’t understand. He explained to her about the book and how it held all the stories from their land, watching her eyes fill with hope and wonder. Could it be true? Could people really learn the horrible story of how all this came to be? Smiling brightly she flung her arms around him, hugging him grateful for the chance to finally be understood. His heart beat frantically as his nose filled with the scent of her hair, his skin feeling how soft hers was.

  ********

Jefferson stood in Rumple’s castle eyes wide with disbelief at the mad request he had been given. “I’m sorry. You want me to steal what? From who?” His hand came to rest on the hip of his leather pants as he waited for confirmation.

 “It’s just a ball Dearie. I was told that you were the best in the land.” Rumple gave a twisted grin as he baited the thief before him.

 “I mean, the slippers from Oz, no problem. But to steal from the Thulen Druids is insane. No one goes near them for good reason.”

 “Yes yes I know the rumors.” Rumple waved a dismissive hand. “Wild people drawing magic from nature and the turn of the year. Magic with no cost… If you can commit to the lifestyle. Part of which is an annual celebration of the turning of the year. Hunting, dancing, ritual sacrifice.” He turned with a grin. “Good times for all! They won’t even notice you.. And of course you’ll be well compensated.”

 Jefferson crossed his arms as his eyes narrowed, contemplating the dangers of the presented offer before giving a slight nod. “Fine.”

********

 “Hey Henry.” Jefferson smiled down to the boy as he sat picking at a basket of fries. “Have you seen any mention of a girl named Lenore in your book?” He asked hopeful as he sat himself across the table.

 “Umm, not that I can think of.” He dropped the fry he had been munching on, turning to pull out the book. Jefferson watched, scanning the pictures as Henry flipped through the pages, each of them looking for Jefferson’s mystery girl. “So the Raven Witch has a name?” He joked as they both looked. “How did you even get that?”

 “I’m pretty disappointed in you kid. Of all people you should know not to judge someone based off a rumor.” He scolded, watching his face sink as he realized he was now disappointed in himself. But as the pages flipped he saw no sign of the name nor image of the girl.

 “Sorry Jefferson, but she’s not in here.”

 “So what does that mean?” He asked as his brow furrowed, the mystery of Lenore growing deeper.

 “It means that She’s not from the Enchanted Forest. There are more books for other lands at the library. Maybe have Belle take a look?” Jefferson nodded, leaving just as quickly as he came.

  ********

Lenore’s heart pounded against her chest as she drew back her arrow, letting out a smooth exhale before releasing it. The wind whistled as the arrow missed the dear. Her face twisted with frustration as she hit the closest tree to her, the jagged bark leaving bloody scrapes on her knuckles. Her jaw clenched, teeth holding her lower lip in as she held a scream of pain inside, having become very well practiced over the past few months at keeping in her sounds.

 “Hey, it’s alright. No one gets the stag on their first try.” Birog consoled her as she placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as the other glowed with a circle of symbols, closing the wounds. “Don’t want anything smelling that.” The two shared friendly smile as she felt the cool magic soothing the sting, new skin forming over the cuts. “Tonight after the fire burns down come to my hut. It is time to teach you something new.” Lenore beamed with excitement at the prospect of learning a new task, thirsting for all the knowledge the Druids had to offer her, thankful for all she has learned already. “Now let’s go get that stag.” She smiled before they both dashed off to bring down the beast.

********

 Filled with a new vigor Lenore sprinted through the woods, one with the forest once more, as she used to be. Black feathers in her hair caught the wind bringing her hair to dance in the breeze. She drew in a breath, listening to the caws of her brothers flying overhead as she drew the arrow. It whistled through the air before embedding itself into a buck. She stood tall and proud as she pulled her bone made dagger digging into the deer’s flesh, separating ribs from meat, digging to the heart of the beast. Cutting it loose she held it up in the air, silently thanking the gods of nature as the blood pumped from the organ, spilling over her before digging it into the ground. Dagger and bow hanging at her side she proudly drug her kill back to the yard.

 The front door opened quietly as Lenore hacked at the carcass, breaking it down into more workable pieces, sectioning them off into piles of what will be used tonight and what needs to be saved for later. Noting the time he could feel the excitement well in him knowing his daughter would be home soon, peering out the window to see the bloody mess of animal parts all color left his face as his jaw dropped, watching Lenore, blood covering her hair and staining her once porcelain skin he for the first time saw just why everyone seemed to fear her. She looked feral with each hack to the fallen beast, watching the cruel blade slicing through the muscles, hearing the crack of bones splintering beneath her force. Feeling eyes on her Lenore looked up, her heart heavy as she watched Jefferson’s face harden to her. She could taste the blood as she bit her lower lip nervously, her eyes lowering as her heart sank seeing the stern look everyone else gave her. Maybe he wasn’t so different after all. But she was losing light and a fire needed to be built. She didn’t have time to try to explain to him. He didn’t need it anyway...he’s seen this before.

 ********

As the sun set over Thule Jefferson made his way into the hidden village, not so hidden as they focused their attention on this ritual celebration. On the far side of all the huts he could hear the beating of drums, strumming of guitars and the hoots and hollers over singing of the heathanistic Druids as they danced around the flames. Curious as he ever was he moved silently, peering around a building to watch as the blood soaked figures twisted and turned in near unnatural movements. Off to the side huge chunks of meat hung from trees still dripping with blood as a select few prepared the parts for cooking or preservation. The Dark One was right, it looked like the whole community was there around the fire. Noticing a pair of midnight eyes lined in stag blood digging into him he quickly retreated behind the wall. His heart stopped as he held his breath, fearful of what they would do to him once she drew attention to his whereabouts. But not a breath of a word parted her lips.

 Breathing a sigh of relief he ran through the huts on a hunt of his own until the crystal sphere was in his grasp. Not even taking the time to admire the treasure he had procured he ran as fast and as light as his feet would take him until the door that took him to this world was behind him and on to Oz he ventured for the slippers.

********

 The full moon was just beginning to rise as Jefferson and Grace watch the silent girl perform a silent dance around a crackling fire. Twisting and bending in a way all too familiar to him. Jefferson’s arms were folded against his chest, frowning as his eyes darted from the girl down to his own daughter, fascinated by what she sees before her. He was beginning to have a pretty good understanding of just who has been residing in his home.

 “What is she doing Papa?” She asked with a sense of wonderment in her eyes. 

“Marking the turn of the year. It’s important to her people.” He answered in a flat tone, eyes hard as stone as he looked upon her, now understanding how he got away that night. He wasn’t shown mercy, he took advantage of a girl who couldn’t speak. And he’s heard what comes next. He wasn’t sure which thought made him more sick to his stomach. “Maybe you should go do your homework.”

“Oh Papa can I go dance too? Please?” Jefferson’s eyes widened at the request, looking down to his daughter with shock.

“To what?” He looked back up watching her move in the flickering light. “There isn’t even any music.”

Grace’s eyes narrowed as she looked up to her father. “Why are you being so mean to her? You said she wasn’t in the book, that means she’s not from our world. Think how alone she must be feeling now.” She scolded before letting herself out the backdoor to do as she pleased. All he could do was watch, knowing there was little he could do to stop her. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting” Lenore shook her head with a smile as she paused to communicate with her young friend. “I was just wondering, how do you dance with no music?” Lenore smiled, patting the girl’s hair before bringing fingers up to her ears then to her forehead conveying to her that the music was in her mind. Jefferson watched as Lenore showed her how to move to the dance, reminding himself that as much as he hated to admit it, she was getting old enough to chose her own paths.

As the dance came to a close Lenore pressed a kiss to the girl’s forehead as thanks for joining her in the dance...it was much more fun than doing it by herself. She so wished that she could sing the praises of nature for her...perhaps once the curse has been lifted. He breathed a sigh of relief as he watched her point Grace in the direction of the house, sending her in. She wouldn’t feel right teaching her much more of her people’s ways without her father giving permission.

“Okay now it’s time to get to that homework.” He reminded Grace as she came back into the house, reluctantly she agreed. After watching her retreat to her room Jefferson made his way out to her. “You’re a Druid, aren’t you?” She tilted her head from side to side, not exactly sure how to answer, on the one hand yes...but on the other, she never did learn all she needed to, there was much training she was unable to attain. “No, no. Don’t try playing the innocent can’t talk act with me right now. I’ve been to many lands in my time. Seen many ways many people honor the passing of the year and nothing comes close to that dance.” She just stood there, waiting for the backlash of following a life most deemed wrong, though she never understood why. The Druid way made more sense to her than normal civilization ever had. “And I know what comes next...Thank you for sending her in. She doesn’t need to see something like that.” Lenore simply tilted her head in confusion. “The sacrifice...I assume it is some sort of animal.” Lenore shook her head holding back a chuckle before pulling one feather out of her cloak, mentally saying a Druidic prayer over it, blessing it as a gift given to sacrifice back to the Raven Goddess before tossing it into the fire.  His eyes grew wide, as he watched the sacrifice, feeling pretty disappointed in himself for being such a hypocrite. “You worship nature...why would you needlessly destroy it.” He looked up to her, midnight eyes digging into him just as they did long ago as he realized that he’s been pretty prejudiced.

His eyes softened, lowering with regret for his thoughts and actions as of late. “I’m sorry.” He glanced up to her all the sorrow for his actions past and present riding in the creases of his brow. “I…” He exhaled, not sure how to say what he knew he needed to. But if anyone knew the importance of words unspoken it was her. She didn’t need to hear what he had to say, she understood just fine. Her lips parted, the white of her teeth an eerie contrast to the blood stained skin sending excited shivers down his spine. Now he understood why he was never able to get her off his mind, even covered in blood under the full moon he still saw the gorgeous woman underneath, the woman who cared for three ravens like a mother, who showed Grace nothing but kindness...the woman who was stealing his heart. But after all of this, after showing her such malice for the ways that she obviously held dear did he really deserve hers?

“They couldn’t find your story...But there’s more books at the library. Would you be willing to go with me?” She stood there contemplating the idea as she wiped the drying blood from her face, in the end nodding, the idea of having something fresh to read too tempting for her to pass up.

If you enjoy my writing please support me on patreon.

[nrdynarwhal-blog]

The Only Porchlight in The Abandonment

I’ve taken to calling the stretch of land surrounding our house “The Abandonment.” It is an ever-expanding space– three adjacent abandoned lots, two garages, a barn, three houses on our right and five houses on our left. It stretches two blocks behind our house, one to the right and three to the left– surrounding our house with overgrown, falling-down, litter-covered property beginning its re-wilding.

           The Abandonment is far from deserted– abandoned by the humans that created it, but far from devoid of life.  My daughter Tristen, our dog Gemma, and I have taken to exploring this space and documenting the goings on here.

           Presently, the list of tenants is a little short.  Feral cats live in the empty houses. Rats have colonized the barn and garage.  They dart and dash between old tires and smashed television sets to avoid us on our weekly walks.  The cats are braver. A big yellow and orange tom cat adopted us last summer.  We called him Walter and he stayed with us for a few weeks before moving on.  Our feral cats are a transient bunch. We never see the same cat more than three times. Winter has been particularly harsh (changing from cold to warm and from rain to snow as if flipping a coin) driving these urban animals to their breaking point.  A wind storm in August destroyed my sunflower garden and with it went our flock of birds.  Without all those seeds, there is a calorie deficit in The Abandonment– there is nothing for the birds, mice, and rats to eat.  Our troop of scavengers: raccoons, groundhog, skunks and opossums don’t leave much for the smaller animals.  These guys have a monopoly on our garbage.  If it’s not in the metal can, its fair game.  If it is in the metal cans, it’s for the raccoons.

In our almost-three-year tenure on 10th Street, I have only ever seen these raccoons on two occasions.  The first was late one night in June or July right after we moved in.  My husband, Justin, and I were sitting on the porch (with Gemma) having a late-night cigarette, when this portly creature came stumbling out of the abandoned lot next door.  He waddled into our yard.  Blinked at our porchlight. Looked slowly around at us and the dog.  Made eye contact with Gemma then slunk along the shadows until he disappeared under our porch. Because he took us by surprise, my husband and I laughed as his striped tale vanished under the sideboards.  But in truth, this raccoon made me uneasy. I was glad we had seen him at night so I could be almost sure he wasn’t rabid but not totally sure so we quickly retreated into the house and vowed to put the trash bags into the cans.

Stowe Township (out in the far west extremities of the Pittsburgh area, down by Mancini’s Bread) sits between McKees Rocks and Kennedy Township.  Our neighborhood has the look of memory– most of the houses have been forgotten about.  Once they were nice, but now they have fallen into a state between functional and abandoned: peeling paint and rotted wood stay so long as they do their jobs. While McKees Rocks was once a thriving machinery and railroad town, now it is mostly the temporary houses made for steel and railroad workers that have been bubble-gummed-and-duck-taped into lasting until 2017.  When the jobs left, most of the people left too– the people that remain are a mix of hardened old-school Italian, Polish, and African American barely-middle-class working folks simply surviving. From the Italians we have bread and pizza, from the Polish golden churches (and pierogis), and from the African Americans the small businesses that maintain our micro-economy.

The second time we encountered this raccoon was right at dusk as we were unloading groceries.  Coming up our walk way, we heard scurrying over in the lot.  As I got to the porch with the first load of plastic bags, the portly raccoon came wobbling out from under a chair.  His front paws were out in front of him, cupped, and filled with cat food. He didn’t even look at us as he wobbled off, his buddies chattered in the darkness at the top of our street where the side walk ended and turned to grass. I remember thinking how ballsy he was, but I was also impressed with his brazen ability to survive. He knew that cat food was there.  It was almost as if he assumed that it was for him and his buddies. He was just like Yep, this is mine now. Peace. I guess urban raccoons need attitude to be able to survive in this wasted town.

Raccoon chittering has become one of the characteristics of Stowe Township– alongside the hourly train whistle and the smells of fresh bread and pizza … and skunk (maybe on some streets it’s marijuana, but on 10th Street it is a real, flesh-and-stink skunk). Not just one skunk though, a troupe of skunks.  At least four skunks. Maybe a mama and pups. Maybe just a gang of hood skunks.  All I know is that they live under our porch. Eat our garbage. Furrow grubs out of our grass and emit odors.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike the skunks– even if they did cause us to be without a house for four days because their odor correlated with a major problem with our furnace.  I just wish they would relocate.  I don’t like the risk involved with our dog. Gemma is way too nosey to be a good skunk-neighbor.  It is just a matter of time before they spray her for getting too close. They probably think the same of us though. We leave lights on. Drive cars. Don’t buy canned cat food anymore.  

Gemma doesn’t have a good relationship with most of The Abandonment tenants– she chases the opossum, groundhog, and feral cats up and down our yard. Sometimes the groundhog will try to out run her and make a dash for his burrow on the side of our house.  Sometimes he fails.  That is why this groundhog is Henry 3.0.

Before the house directly next to ours fell empty, the guy who rented it would shoot bow-and-arrow off of his porch.  He used a target block on top of five huge bales of hay to stop the arrows.  Henrys 1.0 and 2.0 used to eat the clover and wild strawberries that grew in his yard.  His dog, a massive cream-colored pitbull, did not approve of this invasion of his territory. Henry 1.0 liked to sunbathe in the mornings when our back yards were filled with sun.  One morning, poor Henry didn’t perk up soon enough and the dog got him– full force teeth to the side and Henry was no longer. Henry 2.0 was a little thing. But he was still a groundhog and still had a weakness for wild strawberries.  I guess our neighbor was sick of his dog barking and growling at the back door every morning, but I am only assuming. I was only made privy to the situation when 2.0’s corpse was out with his garbage. Henry 3.0 should be safe from such assaults as those people have moved out.  Plus, I have been smuggling him wrinkled potatoes and carrots all winter. Gemma sometimes chases him up the fence line to his hole, but for the most part, this groundhog chooses to avoid all contact with us. Which is probably for the better. He should share his idea with the rats and opossums. But maybe rooting out tasty bits of wrinkled tubers will entice him to stick around and continue to put up with our nonsense.

Our interactions with the rats– I think it might just be one particularly daring brown rat– and opossums have been much more personal.  And much more invasive– like slinking up our laundry drain and climbing up the inside of our walls kind of invasive; there might be more opossums in my house than people invasive; my husband killed his brother with a hammer and left his body as a warning, but he still came back invasive.  Now, I am not advocating for sharing space with wild animals, but there is no need to remove them if they are not hindering our way of life. They are living beings too and were probably here before we moved in.  Just because humans made this structure, doesn’t mean we have sole rights to inhabit it. But that is enough about the rights of vermin – honestly, I find it hilarious that the opossums moved into our space.  They, with their thumpings and scufflings, are just one more way nature is reclaiming our house and urban space.  

Before we had Tristen, my husband lost his job and we were forced to leave 10th Street for about 4 months.  The previous two summers left The Abandonment teaming with life– wild flowers, grasses, mystery plants that seem to need no water and cannot be killed with Round-Up, butterflies, bees, wasps (huge, mean black wasps), flies, spiders (Larry the living-room-ceiling-spider, Bartholomew the bathroom-corner-spider and several others from the wolf spiders currently squatting in our basement to tiny little spiders that make delicate webs in the hall corners), snakes, mice, rats, raccoons, skunks, opossums, feral cats, things that wondered in from the rail road tracks. Life was in that lot.

Life that depended on our cast-offs, on the changes we made to their environment.

We re-rented the same house in the end of September of this year and came back to a surprisingly void of life lot. Our sunflowers had been ransacked by wind and rain. We did not plant our garden. We did not supply any garbage to pick through, lick calories out of yogurt containers, scrape calories from tin cans. The life left with us.

We are the only porchlight surrounded by abandonment. We are their cash-cow. We have influenced their evolution.

Now, I toss carrots, potatoes, and sketchy-left-overs over our fence into The Abandonment in an effort to tempt them back– as if to apologize for leaving, as if to say: come, share our prosperity.  Come back to The Abandonment.  

  Our Marsupial Overlords

We still do not know how they got up there, but we know there are more than two of them– opossums.  They have made the space above our bathroom and back hall their home.

We hear them playing in the evenings: a thump, thump, scuffle on the drywall that rattles our light fixtures.  

I can only imagine what Gemma hears when she and our two cats are home all day.  

They have no shame– they sleep in our house, pluck the grubs from our grass, lick all the goodies from our trash then re-decorate The Abandonment with it when they are done.

And honestly, it amuses me more than it bothers me.

Or maybe it’s just the temporary way that I see this house that makes these things so funny: It’s only a rental, nothing to worry about.  We’re moving soon.  Let’s all just get along.

I commend the opossum who figured out how to get up there. Justin went out to investigate when we first heard them– there are no external entrances to this spot. And if there were, she (mama opossum) would have to climb a barely attached gutter or use a tree down the block to gain access to the roof then run the length of the rowhouses to get back to ours and still figure out how to get into the space under our roof.

I have a theory: our bathroom and back hallway were an addition, part of this addition was a really crappy crawlspace for lawn supply storage.  This space has a door, but it is only a wooden box built to connect the back wall of our house and the addition. There is no access to the inside of the house from this little storage space, but there is access to the inside of the walls.  My theory is that this mama opossum found her way into our storage space and realized that she could get up into the heated part of the house by climbing up the walls. That makes it fairly earned. She can raise her brood above our heads.

These opossums aren’t hurting us– far from it. Actually, we are benefiting from hosting these marsupials.  We have not seen nor been bitten by a tick since they moved in. By having so many of them so close to us and our pets, they probably have saved us more than they realize– just by being opossums and eating ticks. The New York Times even dubbed them “environmental vacuum cleaners” stating that they also eat mice and other nuisance critters. The National Opossum Society describes these guys as having 50 teeth, excellent climbing abilities and as being nonconfrontational.  Justin calls them our Marsupial Overlords (our unmentioned roommates).

  Surrounded by (Black) and Yellow

When we first started dating, Justin, would never use or carry a yellow Bic lighter.  He claimed that they were bad luck – every time he was in a car accident he had a yellow lighter in his pocket; flipped his car doing donuts on a gravel road: yellow lighter on the floor board; found out his parents had euthanized his childhood dog in secret: yellow lighter in his pocket– every bad thing that has happened to him was attributed to the color yellow.  And as I sit on our porch with Tristen and Gemma enjoying this fluke moment of sunshine, I am starting to think he was right.  

The Abandonment is surrounded by yellow– the rowhouses that create its left and front most sides are made of yellow brick, our sunflowers cast their golden reflections on the cement, tattered yellow caution tape still flutters in the burnt-out house across the alley to our right, graffiti reading “Cory” glitters warmly golden on the garage facing our yard, the grassy areas will soon be stippled with fluffy dandelion heads, 10th Street is paved with yellow brick, even the tiny flowers that will bloom on the tangled mess of American bittersweet nightshade swallowing our house have yellow centers.  Yellow fills up this rewilded space.

As if to complement all this yellow, someone has added a new piece of graffiti to the rowhouses on our left, on their side facing one of the many paper streets that break up The Abandonment– I am not sure it if says “goRe” or “EoRp” or something, but it is black and yellow. The characters appear to be filled with turbulent holes and are surrounded by a black bouncy-looking cloud-shape.  I hope it says “goRe” because then it would at least provide a commentary for the burnt-out house which it faces.  The same house they removed three bodies from and have not been back to since that day in December. “goRe” complements the caution tape and the too-decayed-to-be-of-any-use buildings that inhabit The Abandonment and its un-killable plants that form its jungle groundcover in the summer months– a four-foot high welter of arrow-head shaped leaves, red-purple thick stalks with knobbed joints and deep roots, sprigs of green vine, ruffled purple leaves, burs, skunk cabbage, thorns, wild strawberry, coal, concrete, broken glass, railroad rocks, scratched marbles, brown-black city dirt.

On a whim, I decided to investigate these plants– to see what species inhabit this brown-black coal strewn dirt. Jimsonweed seems to have taken over the rocky section towards the middle– it reached six feet high that summer we barely had any rain. Its reddish stalks stand tall with barbed triangular leaves and spiky seedpods.  London rocket with its tiny yellow flowers and thin rocket-ship-leaves grows towards the pool and out by the television grave yard.  When its dry, the only color is the rusty-red stalks of jimsonweed and the purple leaves of something that looks like rhubarb with short stalks and oblong ruffled leaves.  When it is dry the ground stays brown-black and sun baked, letting only the jimsonweed grow.

When the ground stays wet mustard, pinweed, clover, milkweed bloom yellow, pink, white and the nightshade berries turn red and stink adding to the dankness coming from the ever-flooded marshland that will soon support McKees Rock’s entire mosquito population, landscape of scattered tires and liquor bottles, the rare shopping cart.  

The Abandonment owns “goRe” as if a fragrance.  With the weather warming, I cannot help but remember the summer smells: cat poo (its mostly cat poo) and dirt and decay and that moist rotting smell and mud and green– that smell that foliage has that just smells green and alive– and stagnant water and rust and wet wood and alcohol and marijuana and cigarette smoke and pizza and baking bread and car paint and spray paint and car exhaust and concrete.  It is nature in the city. It is city in nature. The Abandonment is where they meet and eddy together like how the Allegheny meets the Monongahela to form the Ohio– blue churning together with brown to form turbulent green waters. Here the city churns together with nature to create this brown-black dirt– this mixture of what humans made and what made humans.  

  The Truce

Yesterday night, I was awake in the odd hours between Tristen’s hungry cries when I saw his tale slither behind my crockpot. Our nightly marauder– a common brown rat. Rattus norvegicus, the most common rat species in North America thrives in urban areas and on ships.  Rattus norvegicus seems to have evolved beyond their Asian-plains-origin to live alongside us, or rather this brown rat has.  He chose our home for his foraging ground.  Locked in our silent agreement, we are participating in one of the oldest human-animal relationships: we gather surplus food, he eats off that surplus, and eventually our cats will eat him. But right now, he wants to eat their food.  

Our kitchen was dim– lit by a nightlight shaped like Darth Vader’s head– but I could just see the outline of his round body and two little ears. He was definitely hiding behind the crockpot. Probably waiting for me to sleepily wander past him.

Maybe I have done this before. Maybe he has waited me out countless times this winter. Waiting in the snug little space behind our crockpot and next to the heater vent; tucked up underneath our butcher rack and away from the cats’ reach.  Just soaking up the warmth and waiting for his chance to dart across the kitchen.

I imagine his little belly is grumbling and that he is cussing me out for delaying him.

Or maybe he is a worrier and is doubting his whole plan. Thinking that darting back into the basement and making a run for the drain pipe is a better option than waiting me out.  

But then I remember we are talking about cat food here– carbs, protein and fat– he cannot pass this up. It is too cold outside to go back with an empty belly. So he waits.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t know I have seen him. He doesn’t know that I know he has visited before.  He comes in through The Abandonment – the two-inch drainage pipe from our laundry room pokes out of the concrete block and out into the mess of jimsonweed and garbage. He climbs up rusted metal, lifts the drain cover, scurries up our stairs and into our kitchen.

He doesn’t know that we have chosen not to poison him.  That my husband and I are allowing him into our home. We have come to an agreement with this urban nature. This wildness that seeks us out.

We have drawn a truce with nature. Once cities sought to conquer the natural world with their brick and glass and metal industrialization but with each drop in our economy, in the housing market, in the job market, in the value of the US Dollar, nature takes a little back. She sinks her tendrils deeper into that rotting wood, wriggles her roots further into our sewer systems, pummels paint from siding with rain and wind. Broken windows let her into old homes wetting their dry-walled and plastered ceilings, caving them in to let birds and squirrels nest in the rafters.  Urban re-wilding is as natural as a fallen tree turning to mold. Nature conquers all that is put before her. Why should McKees Rocks or Stowe Township be any different?  Why should concrete divide what is human with what is natural when humans came out of nature. These animals have adapted and overcome the harsh environment humans have put before them.  They are evolution at its most basic.

We are the bridge between survival and defeat.  We destroyed the natural habitat, the rich riverlands, and put up our concrete-and-wood dwellings poisoning the land so we must to pay restitution: the choice not to poison our little marauder, in letting the opossums share our space, in planting sunflowers, by tossing wrinkled potatoes over our fence, by being lazy with our trash we participate in our ecosystem and contribute to the urban wild. We are the only porchlight in The Abandonment.