#That or they're harassing the local wildlife

[painted-bees]

I have so much difficulty drawing tumblr sanctioned Margie and Tess art because whenever these two are alone together, there is bound to be female presenting nipples out and about :C

[medi-bee]

Fortune Amidst Misfortune (more lore)

From nearly the beginning, Fortune Amidst Misfortune held little interest for solving the Great Problem. Soon after his creation, his interest was caught by the biological behaviors of his parents' species, the Ancients, which quickly expanded to the biological mechanisms of all natural species. He kept only just enough of his processes dedicated to the Great Problem to keep his creators satisfied, and when they faded out of existence, he wasted no time reclaiming his processing power back from the useless simulations.

Fortune dislikes social interactions with both the Ancients and other iterators. He can appreciate the social behavior from a distance, but being forced into one-on-one interactions make him incredibly uncomfortable and tense. His small local group were quick to realize this, except for one: Thirteen Thoughts of Lights Above (redesign pending).

Thirteen Thoughts of Lights Above is especially oblivious, but well meaning. She is considerably more "mechanized" than the other iterators, and has difficulty with social cues. She only ever reaches out to communicate to her neighbors with good reason, but she tries her robotic best to be short yet polite about it. Fortune is more tolerant of her then he is with the rest of the local group.

(Insert here a few dozen cycles of sparking interest in yellow lizards specifically. Fortune raises a handful of these genetically altered lizards, training them as best as he could while in his stock bipedal puppet. Fortune did manage to figure out a way to disconnect and reconnect himself with his umbilical, but his experience while detached was so horrible that he only did it a couple times and never again. And then the antenna-less yellow was born, and the pack project was discontinued.)

And so when Fortune Amidst Misfortune could no longer emotionally nor physically handle being stuck in his stock puppet (with its thin, too fragile build), he eventually had to turn to Thirteen for help. He has only basic knowledge of engineering, and something as advanced as building a new compatible, maneuverable, and sturdy puppet is out of his capabilities. Thirteen was happy to lend her knowledge and be of assistance. Besides for her, Fortune kept his puppet-revamp hush hush (at least until later on, when investigating overseers spill the secret).

Nowadays, he mostly spends his time researching the wildlife up close and getting assaulted in return. His can, settled into the side of a cliff above a biologically diverse hotspot, has two wings dedicated to holding subjects of study (mostly genetic experiments fueled by curiosity, with the occasional pity-case).

Slugcats would be the obvious choice for any genetic tampering, with how malleable-yet-stable their genes are, but... among his first experiments in the beginning, Fortune abducted a few specimens from the nearby colonies so that he could sample their DNA. And although they were later returned to the wild more-or-less unharmed, they must have somehow communicated their experience with the rest of them, because after that point Fortune would be harassed on sight whenever he got anywhere close to the colonies. So, slugcats? No longer a viable option.

Fortune tries to keep a code of ethics when working with his specimens: no harm without cause, no releasing unnatural organisms into the environment, etc. And he mostly succeeds at this! But there was one notable case of several breeding specimens escaping: batfinches. A splice of batflies and vultures. A small, gas filled prey animal. They invaded the local ecosystem, and even though things balanced out with time, for a while they had been devastating the lowest tiers on the ecological pyramid. They're pretty cute though, so worth it maybe?

Enter the current era with his darling devil lizardslug, Nips at Neurons.

[funkytrashsuperstructure]

Disconnected - Chapter 2: Spitfire

No Significant Harassment sat in his chamber, watching his overseers' feeds anxiously. It had been a good few cycles since Suns' messenger had been redirected to his can, and he could only hope that they made it in one piece.

Suddenly, he heard one of his transport pipes spring to life. Looking up, he saw a little pink head staring back at him.

"Oh, hello, little spitfire!" He said, lowering the creature to the floor gently. "How are you faring?"

The creature stared at Sig blankly in return. They scratched at their back for a moment, before walking towards the puppet.

"Here, do you want me to pet you?"

The creature's ears perked up, and soon enough they found themself on his lap… where they barely fit.

Sig couldn't help but chuckle. "Such a strange creature, you are. Just several cycles ago, you were wandering around my can, as wild as any other creature. Now, you practically beg for attention from me.

The creature made a low, grumbling noise, as if to say, 'Get on with it, would you?'

"Alright, alright." Sig began to pet the creature's back. He seemed to relax a bit with the motion. "I will be keeping an eye out for your new friend in the meantime. Please be nice to them when they come, they haven't really met any creatures like you before."

Sig paused for a moment. Huh, that's strange. He glanced down at the creature, rubbing his hand over the spot. The creature seemed to wince as he felt it. It was hard, lumpy.

"Oh… is this why you wanted me to scratch your back?"

They only responded with a quiet "wa".

"Poor guy… don't worry, I can help. We probably have a bit of time until your friend gets here. You'll be good as new!~"

The creature seemed to melt into Sig's puppet, making a deep, vibratory noise as it dozed off into sleep.

"I'll miss you, little spitfire," Sig muttered, before pulling up a message box alongside his overseers' views. ---

[DIRECT BROADCAST] - PRIVATE No Significant Harassment, Seven Red Suns NSH: There is a bit of a problem with my messenger. SRS: I knew using the local wildlife would be a bad idea. NSH: No! I mean. Not really. NSH: Spitfire just has a lump on their back, is all. It's hard to tell if it's malignant or not, but it's at minimum making them uncomfortable. SRS: ... SRS: You named it. NSH: Of course I did. They are quite charming creatures, you know. NSH: Maybe they deserve more attention from iterators, although you'd probably know a thing or two about that. SRS: You know the world outside our cans is dangerous, right? What if it doesn't come back? NSH: It wouldn't be the first time. But that's beside the point. NSH: How far along is your messenger, anyways? SRS: They're almost there. Do you have the slag keys? NSH: Oh, really? And yes, I've had them ready for a while. I even showed them to Spitfire, although I think the intricacies went over their head. SRS: Please stop using that name with them. They aren't a pet, they have a job to do. NSH: And so do we. And yet we fret about with nicknames and rescue missions instead of the Great Problem. NSH: Besides, I don't want to treat them as tools. Stars know that's how our administrators treated us. SRS: ... SRS: You're right, I suppose. I'm *not* naming my messenger, though NSH: Suit yourself.

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[galacticgrunt155]

[A TV news clip, with a headline reading, "Terrorist Team Resorting to Impersonation," and a subheadings, "Watch the full encounter of a Team Galactic member trying to steal a family's pokemon." The embedded video shows Rei at the outside of a doorway, Toto on the ground beside them, Andre presumably in his pokeball. They have their wig on, as well as their oversized hoodie. By all accounts, they look like a normal trainer, but they're in an argument with a man, and as the camera points down, a young boy hugging a lilligant is at the feet of the person holding the camera. The view moves back to Rei, who is getting flustered.

"I'm not-- I'm not trying anything, I just, I just came here for my pokemon--"

"She isn't your pokemon. She is my son's precious partner. I don't care what history you have with her, we found her abandoned in the woods!"

"I wasn't the one who did that, please understand--"

"Oh, I understand, alright. Get out of here before I call the cops!"

"Please--" Distressed, they start scratching at their head with both hands. The wig slips, revealing a peek of their teal hair.

"Hey!" The man snatches it from their head before they can fix it, and they flinch. "I ****ing knew it! Galactic scum!"

"You freaks have no idea the hell you've put my family through!" He yells, raising a fist as he steps forward. They back away with a sob, trying to cover their head with their free hand.

"Honey, stop--" The person behind the camera says, before the lilligant breaks free of the boy's embrace and leaps in front of Rei. He hesitates, lowering his fist. The lilligant turns to face Rei.

"Lily..." They say quietly.

The boy under the camera mutters, "Her name is Daisy."

The lilligant chitters sadly, reaching a leaf up toward them. Cautiously, looking between the family members, they reach a hand down to touch her.

Understanding dawns on their face.

"I'm sorry."

"Get out," The man growls, and they quickly leave. As they retreat, he closes the door and declares, "I'm calling the cops."

The video ends.

An article about the video is below.

Team Galactic, originally a tech start up, has turned violent in the last year. They began stealing pokemon November of last year, and just a couple weeks ago, they were responsible for the explosion at Lake Valor, harming hundreds of local wildlife and causing an earthquake felt across the region. Interpol has confirmed they are actively investigating the organization, and hope to bring order within the week. Stragglers, like this member, have been reported around the region. Some have tried blending into the general public, wanting to disappear before they can be held accountable; others, like this individual, are choosing to continue their life of crime. This case is unique, as it is a rare instance where the Galactic member has tried to disguise themself to steal the pokemon - most other cases, they have relied on confrontational brute force. Just two months ago, trainers and families of beloved pokemon reported their pokemon stolen after bringing them to what they thought was a real pokemon health clinic. The pokemon have since been located and returned to their families. What does this kind of behavior spell for the future of this region? Why was Galactic allowed to rise to power unchecked until they became a threat? Why has Interpol waited until now? The individual in the video fled the scene before local authorities arrived, and they are still at large. One can only think, "There must have been a billion ways to prevent this terrifying incident - what happened?" The family is safe, but deeply disturbed. Already they had suffered harassment from Galactic members. Last week, the son and his lilligant were attacked by a pair of Galactic members - while the son escaped unharmed with the brave lilligant, the whole family has been deeply shaken since. "This was the very last thing we needed," The father, who requested his family remain anonymous, commented. "Is nowhere safe in the region anymore, for a kid and his pokemon? Arceus, he's only eight. He's never gone outside town on his own, and this is twice now he's had to suffer because of these people. I hope every single one of them rots in a jail cell."

End of article. The comments section is heavily populated.]

[sanguine-salvation]

❣?

[ send me ❣ for 3 pros & 3 cons of dating my muse! - ACCEPTING ]

✨ Pros ✨

Viktor is loyal, they are honest in all pursuits romantic. They will not say I love you and not mean it, because it takes them a lot to get to that point in the first place.

They do the laundry willingly and they separate the lights and darks, and also their nagymama imparted the nigh witchy knowledge of getting stains out of everything. So while they may (definitely) bleed on things occasionally, at least they clean up after themself.

You will never not be near a knife. :) Great for opening packages, cutting sandwiches, and murdering very stubborn bags of chips.

😑 Cons! 😑

You will never not be near a knife. :( Please check under their pillows when you snuggle with them.

You will never know where your stray cat of a partner is when they just fuck off for a day or two or five, they will wander off and come back looking scruffy. And maybe bloody. And maybe after harassing the local human wildlife.

Steals the blankets even though they're a damn human furnace. Criminal behaviour. You will have to octopus yourself to them and share.

[the2amrevolution]

This red-shouldered hawk's family has nested in our yard for around 15 years now.

We have finches, sparrows, cardinals, wrens, chickadees, blue birds, robins, grackles, phoebes, tufted titmice, yellow-throated vireos, brown headed cowbirds, mourning doves, and mocking birds galore. Sharing space with the hawk family is a great horned owl, and theres a kestrel family a few houses down. We have green tree frogs, grey tree frogs, squirrel tree frogs, leopard frogs, southern toads, spadefoot toads, narrowmouth toads, and marbled salamanders. We have green anoles, five lined skinks, broadhead skinks, rat snakes, common watersnakes, and black racers. We have innumerable bugs including unique butterflies, moths, native bees, beetles, dragonflies, and spiders. We have mice, wood rats, squirrels, opossums, raccoons, armadillos, and sometimes larger mammals like deer and foxes. I've not seen any skunks in our yard or the neighborhood, but they're probably around too.

What makes our yard so attractive to wildlife? We don't do any yard spraying and we only use targeted insecticides for fire ants (invasive species) and mosquitos (dunks that only kill larvae, mostly we just avoid having standing water). My mom and I have finally convinced my dad to mow more minimally, and we try to id volunteer plants and protect them if they're native species. Our purposefully planted native and non-spreading ornamental plants get watered, but thats it. Volunteers get water if they're close to the other stuff, but they usually don't need it unless there's a serious hot and dry spell. We want ground cover, but we don't care about grass, so we don't mind the Carolina ponysfoot and vigina buttonweed over the backyard.

Wildlife likes our yard because we are lazy! We only mow as needed (we have dogs so needs to low enough to not totally hide snakes or be attractive to ticks), leave leaves, and don't spray poison everywhere (also because we have dogs and lawn chemicals increase canine cancer risk). We don't leave lights on outside on purpose and our dogs and cats are primarily indoors. Our next door neighbors also have primarily indoor pets, but they do leave lights on that aren't needed. Theres only one cat that is ever roaming, she's spayed, and she's kept inside most of the year. We've seen her less often in general since she's gotten older, and now allowing cats to roam is illegal in my county.

One of our next door neighbors mows excessively. One across the street has a full, obnoxious service that comes, poisons their yard, partially blocks the road, and makes a bunch of noise. The neighborhood our yard backs up at least at one point did mosquito spraying, which kills way more than just mosquitos.

We don't have an HoA, which helps, and we live outside city limits, but the city has no rules against leaving leaves anyway. Our yard never looks messy either. We put decorative stakes to mark volunteers we don't want mowed so it looks purposeful, and the dandelions and henbit and such honestly look prettier in the spring than a golf course lawn ever does.

The wildlife will find the pockets of refuge if we make them, and its pretty easy to make them if you have a yard while also campaigning for more ecologically friendly city planning, commercial development, and infrastructure. If you have time, you can also loiter in local/neighborhood groups on Facebook or nextdoor and leave comments that are anti-lawn, pro-wildlife, and anti-outdoor only/free roaming dogs and cats on any relevant posts. You can harass lawn and pest companies about how much the "services" they offer suck too if you want, but generally telling some one a fan for their patio will keep mosquitos off them just as well as expensive lawn spray without killing off butterflies works better.

"There's no wildlife here. The land is barren and stripped from farming chemicals"

I just saw two blue herons fly super low over our house, which means they've been fishing in the creek behind us, which means there's fish there. Which means there's bugs to feed the fish and algae to feed the bugs, which means the water and soil is worth something damnit.

Yes, I'm sorry the suburb isn't the grand, sweeping swath of uninhabited land that you so desperately crave but would learn to loathe, but saying that the land here is barren and that there's no wildlife here and that there's nothing to salvage- that's a You problem. Nature might be struggling, but against all odds it is at least trying.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: What Spring Does To The Cherry Trees, Chapter 12

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Narcos

Ship: Javier Peña/OFC (Eva)

Words: 4,892

Tags/warnings (whole thing): slow burn, h/c, a bit of violence (nothing as bad as canon), guns, knife injury, pain and suffering, the loss of a parent (both actually), angst, ptsd, javi being a lil prick but also soft!, (safe) piv sex, masturbation (female AND male), fingering, unprotected piv sex (in the words of the Spice Girls: be a little bit wiser baby, put it on, put it on), pregnancy risk, death of an animal, talk of cancer, so much internal conflict, insomnia, killing coyotes, snake bite, oh my god just get over yourselves already, some eye fucking if you squint, yearningggggggg, descriptions of food, jealousy, oh NOW he has a condom good boy javi, cunnilingus, panic attack, trauma, sexual trauma, trust issues, description of past sexual harassment and assault, descriptions of combat, fellow soldier killed in action, talk about STDs, SO MANY FEELINGSSSSS, confession time, guilt, yo LOVE is mentioned!!, fellatio, more angst, eva is a coward, poor javi you didn't deserve that, JUST BE TOGETHER ALREADY.

Summary for the whole thing: Javier Peña has resigned from the DEA and is back at his dad’s ranch in Texas. Life is slow and uneventful, until an unfamiliar face shows up at the local watering hole one night. Eva is retired from the army and lives in her old pickup truck with more than one ghost. She’s looking for ranch work and when her path crosses Javier’s, maybe they can help each other along in their lives?

Chapter summary: After their date night, are Eva and Javi ready to face what they're feeling for each other?

A/N: You guys. I can't. It's over now. It's finished. I posted the first chapter of this on April 26 last year, over a year ago, and now it's finished. I cannot thank you enough for coming with me, Javi, and Eva on this journey. You readers are the best. Your comments and notes and squees and support has been everything. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Taglist: @chronic-nosebleed, @flora-screeches, @stevie75, @a-trial-run-on-paper, @mswarriorbabe80 @paulalikestuff @apascalrascal @tanzthompson

The darkness is compact around the car when the headlights are turned off. Eva is used to the unpenetrable absence of light from countless nights of sleeping in her car. It’s familiar in the way an old heartache is familiar: not necessary enjoyable but an ingrained part of you so you don’t know anymore who you are without it.

This time is different. The night embraces the pickup truck with Eva and Javi inside, protecting them from any watchful eyes, as she leans over the middle console of the truck’s front seat. One of her hands is cupping the growing bulge of Javi’s crotch, the other is catching him by the neck to bring him to her. Little effort is needed in that: Javi responds immediately, his lips finding hers for a teasingly soft kiss. She lets him decide the pace but the moment his kisses become more demanding, she scrambles into his lap, hungry for more. Cursing slightly at the skirt getting in the way, she pulls it up while adjusting herself. Her re-arranging of her limbs makes her accidentally hit the horn and the short, loud burst of sound breaking the silence and startles both of them.

Javi chuckles as he runs his large hands up her thighs, gathering the fabric of her skirt to help her get settled. “That took care of any wildlife trying to get a closer look.”

“Or alerted that asshole sheriff,” Eva points out dryly before her lips finds his again, effectively silencing him. Handing herself over to pleasure, she follows her instincts as she kisses him, hips moving on his lap, fingers finding his shirt buttons and undoing them to expose his chest and stomach. Javi’s hard against her, his fingertips kneading into her ass cheeks underneath her skirt, his breath heavy in her mouth. When she shifts to reach his belt buckle, Javi stops her.

“Shit…” He looks utterly regretful. “Eva, I don’t have rubbers.”

She groans, head dropping to his shoulder. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Afraid not.”

“Would’ve thought you’d bring condoms on a date…” she mutters as she tries to fight the urge to just go on without protection. Sweet Jesus, she wants him so bad.

“So this was a date?” His voice is quiet in the dark, and lacks all the flirting that she would have expected from him asking her a question like that. As Eva sits up straight, she finds herself missing that intoxicating smell at the crook of his neck: sweat, barbecue smoke, laundry detergent from his shirt. Her eyes are by now more accustomed to the dark and she sees the outline of his handsome face, his sharp nose, the dark eyes.

“Yeah,” she admits simply, “it was a date.”

Her heart is hammering in her chest at this scary acknowledgment, the implications of it too massive for her to think about right now.

“So why didn’t you bring condoms?”

She sees his teeth glint when he bares them in a grin, and she could kiss him for breaking the tension. Instead, she slaps him lightly on his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up.”

Javi chuckles and pulls her in for a kiss, a little like that first one they shared on that fateful day when they first acted on their desires: confidently testing and teasing.

“Let’s go home.”

“In a minute,” she murmurs, finding his belt buckle again and snapping it open. “Let me make you feel good first…”

Moving back to the passenger seat and leaning over to unzip Javi’s jeans, Eva senses hesitation in him. She looks up at him in the dark.

“Is this okay?”

He draws a stuttering breath and she sees his tongue flick out to wet his lower lip.

“I… yeah, I think so.”

“We don’t have to – “

“I just have had a lot of… other women… do this to me. I don’t know how I feel about you doing it,” he tells her quickly, like he wanted to get it out and then forget about it. She senses the shame, feels the magnitude of the confession.

“I don’t mind,” she reassures him. “You think I’d do this if I didn’t want to? You can lead a horse to the water…”

“…I wouldn’t dare to even try to make it drink,” he fills in with a smile that she can hear. She smiles back, relieved that the humour isn’t far away even in this situation. Her hand finds his cheek, directing him to her, and their lips brush against each other before Javi parts hers with his tongue, greedily tasting her. Eva’s hand moves down to his chest, gathering the fabric of his shirt to pull him in, taking his kisses with the same passion he administers them. Finally, her hand lands on his crotch, and she tears her mouth away from his.

“May I?” she pants. Javi’s breath is hot against her cheek, to show the fire and tenderness of a true love, as Neruda wrote, and then his big palm, gentle yet rapacious, covers the back of her hand and presses down.

“Please.”

///

She is the heat of high summer, she is the cool of winter. She is everything when she moves on top of him, strong thighs working as she rides him, head thrown back in pleasure as his old bed creaks and complains. For so many years, Javi only focused on how women made him feel, how they could pleasure him. Now he’s focused on what Eva feels and feels like; her heated skin, her grabby hands, the hungry hug of her pussy around around his girth telling him how much she’s enjoying herself. Her greedy kisses that breathe her moans into his mouth. The way she takes his hand and directs it to where they are connected, wordlessly asking him to rub her clit: her complete surrender to the moment, to him, to her own pleasure.

“Right there, Javi” she gasps when he finds just the right angle, the right pressure. He loves it how she makes his name sound like a dirty prayer: exalted and outrageous at the same time. He loves it when the throes of passion turn her to Spanish.

“Ya me vengo,” she cries, throwing her head back as she moves like she’s possessed, chasing her orgasm as she pants his name, good God, how does she say his name like that, how can she make two syllables sound like that?

Only his previous release into her sweet mouth keeps him from blowing when she clamps down on him, shuddering, back curling as she moans out her climax. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her fingertips digging into the soft skin of his chest. Mesmerized, Javi stares at her, knowing that there is no way he himself looked as divine when she sucked him off in the truck. He had her by the back of her neck, his other hand squeezing the grab handle above the door, and he had had to keep himself from bucking up into her mouth. He was loath at first to have her suck his dick; it reminded him too much of the man he was in Colombia. And at the same time, he couldn’t wait to feel her lips wrapped around him. He wanted it so bad, and her willingness to do it only made him want it more. The way she asked him made him want it.

And now, when she falls onto the bed besides him, heaving a deep sigh, he wants her again. In the faint lamp light, he turns his head and looks at her. Her forehead is shiny and he can feel the puffs of breath against his skin. For every time her chest rises he feels the flesh of her breasts on his arm. He wants this, this and more, every night, every day. Softly, he presses a kiss to her forehead, tasting salt and night air.

Eva hums, her eyes blinking open.

“You need a moment?” he asks her, eager to be inside her again, feel her, love her.

“Make it two,” she acknowledges with a sigh. Javi nods and shifts his arm from under her, and Eva rolls over onto her back. Her small breasts catch Javi’s eye, and he can’t resist leaning over her to lick and nibble on first one nipple, then the other. The buds are stiff in his mouth, yet yielding when he bites down gently, and Eva reacts with an arched back and a moan.

“Javi…”

Her nipples knot even more when her skin pimples over from his touch. Javi’s cock twitches in anticipation and he moves down, licks into her navel, admires the way her abs twitch before moving further down.

Eva closes her legs and shoves him. “I said two moments,” she scoffs playfully. Javi glances up at her before sliding his hand between her thighs, prying them apart.

“And I say now…”

She rolls her eyes in mock irritation before turning over onto her stomach and getting up on all fours. Quickly taking his position behind her, Javi checks that the condom is still securely on, before he slides his wet cock between her slick lips. He bumps into the clit, teasing more sounds out of her before finally pushing in, relishing her breathless affirmation. His eyes fall shut and his jaw grows slack when he moves in her, feels every inch of her pussy, finally, like he’s been away from it for years, not minutes. Eva mewls and it drives him insane. He pulls her up, close, covers her neck with kisses, her tits with his hands, groans against her fragrant skin for each heavenly thrust that makes her fingers grasp onto his thigh and shoulder for a hold. She twists her head to reach his mouth for kisses that he drowns her with, and when she starts to move with his thrusts, he sits back on his heels and lets her ride him again, stares enchanted at her ass and its rhythmic bouncing.

Mierda, he’s going to blow soon, and he doesn’t want it to be over yet. He wants to keep fucking her, wants to feel her, hear her…

Headlights hit the bedroom window and the sound of his father’s pickup truck driving up the dirt road to the house makes him swear out loud.

“Fuck!” He grabs Eva’s hips, gulping when she squeezes him.

“Keep fucking me,” she gasps, coming onto all fours again, “don’t stop, Javi, fuck me!”

Fuck. Fuck. He thrusts into her, roughly, hard, chasing his high, grabbing her hips as he pounds into her, and his boiling blood sings in his ears, a little more, just a little more…

No.

He slows down, panting heavily, trying to catch his breath and thoughts alike. No, this isn’t what he wants, how he wants her.

“Javi?” Her voice is weak, wanton, wondrous, her eyes half closed when she turns her head to look at him. When Chucho’s truck door slams shut, Javi pulls out and lies down next to Eva, tugging her down to him. The dreamy expression on her face changes into wariness, and Javi combs his fingers through her dark locks before he kisses her sweetly.

“I don’t want it like that,” he tells her in a low voice as the front door opens and closes. They lie still and quiet for a moment, listening to Chucho’s booted feet carry him through the kitchen to the bathroom.

“Like what?” Eva whispers, her voice faltering. He can see the confusion in the honeyed shimmer of her brown eyes. Their sex has been passionate so far, if not rough then at least energetic. Their vigor has made not only them sing, but also whatever furniture they’ve assailed with their exercises. And it has been good, and he has no regrets. But something changed earlier tonight, when he held her to him and they moved together to that song.

“I don’t want to hide,” he tries to explain, still keeping his voice down. “I don’t want secret, stolen fucks.”

“I’m not gonna let your father hear us,” Eva protests. They hear the toilet flush and Chucho’s footsteps move from the bathroom to his bedroom. Silence descends over the house anew, and Javi shakes his head.

“Nor do I, but what I mean is, I don’t want to fuck you like we just met in a bar and will never see each other again after tonight.”

He slides his hand over the curve of her thigh and lifts her leg, hooking it over his hip before prying into her again. His forehead comes to a rest to hers as he presses as far into her as she can, enjoying her grip of his shoulders.

“I want to make love to you like we’re only just getting started.”

For a panicked second, he thinks he’s gone too far, but then she sighs his name and her lips find his in a soft brush. He moves in her slowly now, savouring it in a completely new way, all the while receiving her deep yet unhurried kisses. When Eva takes hold of his shoulders and rolls over onto her back, he follows her, ending up on top. For a moment, he hesitates, face hovering above hers, searching her eyes for even the slightest hint of hesitation. He finds none, only a velvety shimmer.

“It’s okay,” she whispers before kissing him again, and he resumes the relaxed roll of his hips against hers. Trying to keep as much of his weight off her as possible, he finds the feeling he was chasing, the sense of things falling into place. This is how he wanted it: like they’ve got all the time in the world. Eva coming to him for pleasure, confident that he will kiss her neck when she throws her head back, that his arm will go around her thigh when she pulls her leg up to his waist, taking him deeper.

He finds himself groaning her name just as she moaned his before and when the bed starts to creak, Eva pulls him down on top of her, glues his sticky, sweaty body to her equally flushed form and buries her fingers in his hair when he hides his face in her neck. He’s close now, so close, and her breathless whispers in Spanish help throw him over the edge. He snaps his hips a couple of errant times before his strength is drained and he slides off of her, barely remembering to hold onto the condom when he pulls out.

The silence is punctuated only by their audible breaths slowly diminishing, and as soon as Javi can speak again, he asks her if she’s okay.

“Perfecta,” she slurs, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Javi draws a deep sigh, his arm curling around her to pull her in for a soft kiss before he has to get up and throw away the condom. When he rejoins her in bed, he has to stop and look at her: naked, sleepy, a small smile on her lips as she drifts off to sleep.

He’s falling for her, hopelessly and irrevocably. He may have spent half the summer lusting for a quick, uncomplicated fuck, but that has changed and now he wants this, right here and now. He wants the perfect peace he feels when he climbs back into bed and pulls the covers over both of them before the AC has the chance to chill their sweaty bodies.

Eva’s eyes flutter open and she shifts slowly.

“I gotta go,” she whispers, coming to a sit. Javi shakes his head, finding her wrist and pulling her back down.

“Stay the night.” He knows it’s all he can say, or he’ll send her running for the hills. He has to stay away from sentiment, focus on the here and now instead.

“I need sleep and we both know I’m not going to get it here,” Eva explains softly. Javi doesn’t want to believe her, but knows he can’t insist too much.

“Eva…”

“I’m fine. I’m just tired, it’s been a long day.”

She’s out of bed the next second, collecting her clothes. Before she leaves his room, she comes over for one last kiss. Taking her time with it, she lets his tongue explore her mouth, wrestle with her tongue, take it from goodbye back to hello before she pulls away. There is something haunting in her eyes when she licks her lips, as if she’s trying to catch the lingering flavor of him.

“I had a really nice time, Javi,” she murmurs, planting a final, quick kiss to his lips before she steals out and back to her room.

The bed smells of her, of them together. Javi lets that lull him into sleep, but it’s a restless slumber.

///

Eva’s heart is beating hard against her ribs when she closes the door behind her and leans against it, her clothes falling to the floor.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is bad.

The warm comfort of Javi’s bed, of his presence, are quickly draining away, leaving her feeling empty and filled with dread at the same time.

She let her guard down. She let him get close. She enjoyed herself, the night, the festivities in town, his company. The sex was no longer meaningless and she found herself wanting him beyond the pleasure he could give her. She wanted his company. She wanted to wake up in his arms.

Getting attached was never a good idea. She had gone a long time avoiding it, but she has grown careless. Javi made her grow careless. Chucky made her grow careless. Chucho and his café de olla, his unspoken appreciation. This faraway place.

Now the tears come, quiet but profuse. She sags down, back still against the door, and pulls her bare legs up to her naked chest, hugging herself as if it would bring any comfort. The moonlight bathes the room in silver, just enough for her to see that dreadful John Travolta poster on the wall, and her own duffle bag next to the bed. A few clothes on the bed. Her boots that she wore on the day when she first kissed Javi, before shooting Chucky. She’s worn those boots all summer, it’s her only pair. She wore them on the night she met Javi, when her arm was slashed and her truck wrecked. She wore them when she asked Johnny to come to the cabin with her. She wore them every day when Javi brought her and the other farmhands lunch.

Javi. Javi. Javi. Her mind keeps returning to him, to his kisses, his touches. The way he held her when they danced. She hasn’t danced with anyone since high school, not wanted to, not felt the need. With Javi, however, it just happened, because it felt like a normal, nice thing to do. And everything changed with that dance.

It’s too much, too complicated. It’s not going to work. She can’t do this. Bad things happen to people she cares about, and she can’t let anything happen to Javi.

She cries until she’s all out of tears, her head aching and her eyes burning. Her body is cold and stiff when she finally gets up, shivering as she tiptoes to bed on wobbly legs, and hides underneath all the covers.

When dawn comes she hasn’t slept a wink, but knows what she must do. She gets out of bed, takes a quick shower, and picks out clean clothes. The skirt and blouse from the night before are carefully folded and put into the bag. The toiletry bag goes the same way. She makes the bed neatly, leaving behind her a tidy room.

It’s for the best.

She goes out to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, finding Chucho already up and making it.

“Good morning,” he says simply, like he’s done every morning for the past few months. Eva smiles.

“Morning.”

They prepare breakfast together in silence, like they have done many mornings before. Chucho’s company is fatherly, which makes Eva long for it. Another thing that gets unnecessarily complicated.

“Chucho?”

He hums to let her know he’s listening.

“I’ve decided to leave. Today. Right after breakfast.”

The old man pauses in his tracks, before resuming movement and bringing toast to the table. He looks thoughtfully at her, a world of thoughts passing by his wrinkled face, before nodding.

“Eat up. You’ll have a long drive before you, I suspect.”

He doesn’t ask her why, or try to convince her to stay. He just gets up, goes to the office, and returns with a check that he hands over to her.

“Your wages.”

“Chucho, no. I’ve had room and board.”

“You’ve done so much more.”

She eventually accepts the check, folding it once and sliding it into her back pocket. Chucho sits down on his usual chair, sighing deeply.

“We’ll miss you.”

///

“I’m leaving after breakfast.”

That’s all she says. Javi tries to talk some sense into her, even asks Chucho to back him up. The old man just shakes his head.

“We don’t even have an oral agreement,” he tells Javi, seemingly unaware of him being in pieces. “We’ll find someone else to help us. Eva can leave whenever she wants to.”

Javi feels sick from his gut and heart changing places, his life turning upside down. He thought he had her. He thought she wanted him. And now…

He confronts her in the kitchen after Chucho has left. Eva refuses to see reason, his reason. Despite himself, he says harsh things to her, calls her a coward, accuses her of running away. To his chagrin, she doesn’t bite, just look disapprovingly at him. He wants her to fight him on this, fight for them.

“No, Javi,” she tells him, annoyingly patient and serene. “What we had was good, but it’s not meant to last. It’s better this way.”

Her calm demeanor is contagious. Finally, Javi accepts her decision. He even helps her carry her bag to the truck.

“Thank you,” she tells him, finally looking a little remorseful. “I’m really sorry, Javi. I wish I didn’t have to do this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“We’ll just end up hurt, both of us.”

“That’s life,” Javi points out, still hoping she’ll change her mind. “You can’t keep running away.”

“I’m not running away, I’m just being responsible. Trust me, this is for the best.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. They stand there for a moment, looking at each other, before Eva clears her throat.

“Well…”

“Bye,” Javi tells her abruptly and turns around, stomping up the stairs like a little child to whom the whole world is unfair and unforgiving. The screen door slams shut in that unfulfilling way and he has to go straight to the kitchen sink and run ice cold water over his hands before patting some of it onto his forehead. He hears the truck engine rev into life and shortly after, it drives off.

She’s gone. Just like that. Like nothing ever mattered at all.

The house feels lifeless. The apples in the bowl on the side table smell rotten. From the stable, Pablo neighs in frustration.

Javi has never felt so alone in his entire life.

///

Eva turns on the radio, smiles widely when a well-known, old hit song comes on. The weight in her gut has lifted, she feels lighter, stronger for each mile she puts between herself and Big River Ranch.

This was the right thing to do.

Oh, here I go

Don't let me go, hold me down…

She hums along with the song and for every line, she grows more light-footed on the gas pedal.

And I'm ashamed of running away

From nothing real, I just can't deal with this

I'm still afraid to be there

Among your hounds of love

And feel your arms surround me

I've always been a coward

And never know what's good for me…

She shakes her head to clear it from unwanted thoughts. No, not thoughts: feelings.

Help me darling, help me please…

The car comes to a slow stop on the side of the road and she recognizes the rock next to the road: it’s where that asshole crashed her truck in March.

Her truck is fixed; nothing on it suggests that it nose-dived into a rock barely six months ago. Eva changed the damaged parts, repaired the rest. The truck is now as reliable as it always was.

Her gaze falls down to the red scar on her wrist. The skin sometimes feels tight around it but it’s been weeks since it last bothered her. It healed up well enough with little assistance from her.

Things heal. Life is only a borrowing of bones, as Neruda put it. Eva finds herself wanting to ask more of the honey and the twilight.

And just like that, she makes a u-turn and drives with a peculiar, new sense of purpose, brows slightly furrowed. Her sunglasses put a dark filter on the world.

As she parks outside the main house, Javier steps out onto the porch, frowning, lips forming that thoughtful pout she has seen him sport countless times. It’s cute, a word she never thought she would use to describe a man, but Javi’s pout is nothing but cute.

Ascending the stairs, she meets his curious gaze.

“You forget something?” he asks. Eva comes to a stop in front of him.

“It’s with. What spring does with the cherry trees.”

“Excuse me?” Javi is not following.

“When you read me the Neruda poem, you said I want to do to you what spring does to the cherry trees. But it’s with.”

“I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees?” A glint of recognition in his eyes, but he’s still frowning. “So?”

“You said it wrong,” she explains patiently, as if to a child. “There’s a big difference between to and with. To suggests that the other party is passive, with means it’s a mutual act, it’s something they do together. They help each other change.”

“You returned just to tell me I was wrong about a poem?” There’s a sharpness to his voice, but Eva can see the twitch in the corners of his mouth, threatening to tug his lips upwards in a grin.

“You got it wrong,” she shrugs, pushing the shades up onto his head. The world comes into vibrant color, the brown of his eyes the most vivid one.

“And I thought, well… Chucho needs my help, really,” she goes on. “You’re a terrible ranch hand, Javi. You’re trying, but you’re just the worst. I know you’ve been away for a decade but there’s a limit to what your father should have to put up with, and besides, I have to make sure you don’t kill off Dolly right away – “

Javi makes an amused face and shakes his head, then dips his head and presses his lips to hers. His hand rises to the back of her head, bringing her in, silencing her with his mouth, drinking her in like he has wanted to since he first saw her. Eva kisses him back, hands landing on his narrow hips to pull him against her.

He doesn’t taste of cigarettes, but of sun-warm tomatoes.

Every day you play with the light of the universe.

Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water,

You are more than this white head that I hold tightly

as a bunch of flowers, every day, between my hands.

You are like nobody since I love you.

Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.

Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?

Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.

The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.

Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.

The rain takes off her clothes.

The birds go by, fleeing.

The wind.  The wind.

I alone can contend against the power of men.

The storm whirls dark leaves

and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

You are here.  Oh, you do not run away.

You will answer me to the last cry.

Curl round me as though you were frightened.

Even so, a strange shadow once ran through your eyes.

Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,

and even your breasts smell of it.

While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies

I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,

my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.

So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,

and over our heads the grey light unwinds in turning fans.

My words rained over you, stroking you.

A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.

Until I even believe that you own the universe.

I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Pablo Neruda

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

if I see someone harassing a snake, what should I do? Is there anyway to get the snake to safety without risking getting bit?

Hello hello - great and very important questions.

If you feel safe doing so, try to stop the person from bothering or hurting the snake. I usually play on a sense of empathy if I can: "dude, that's an animal and it has feelings. Leave it alone. It's not hurting you." If all else fails, tell the other person that you'll take care of moving the snake away from where it might run into people.

If the person is very clearly hurting the snake, take a video if you can. Many wild snakes, especially in the United States, are protected species under wildlife protection laws. Most people who harass wild snakes don't think of them as feeling, sentient animals, and assume others don't either. The thought of legal retribution, even if the snake isn't actually a protected species, might be enough to get them to back off.

There are ways to get snakes to safety that are safe for both you and the snake. If you suspect a snake is in immediate danger AND you are 100% positive it's not venomous, you can use a stick to pick the snake up under its belly, like you would do with a snake hook:

Don't worry about the snake coming up the stick towards your hands - they'll most likely just assume they're on a branch and they should stay still so they don't fall off.

You can also use a stick to coax the snake into a box, bucket, or other safe carrying container you have on hand.

If you are not certain the snake isn't venomous, or you know it's venomous, then your best option will be calling your local fish and wildlife services. You should be able to find a number with a quick Google search, and they'll be able to send trained professionals who can transport the snake to safety.

[burakku-jakku]

There’s just so much wrong here. I feel like this happens a lot. People will look at Tezuka’s work and think “Oh, this is bad.” without doing proper research into the time frame the work was made and what kind of person Tezuka was.

Firstly, Osamu Tezuka was never racist. A lot of his works contain themes of coming together despite our differences. Astro Boy was written doing the civil rights movement, and you can see many parallels between the rights of robots and the rights black people were trying to fight for at the time.

Theres a famous story with Tezuka buffs about a young Tezuka encountering a black American soldier named Joe while playing piano at a local YMCA. They didn’t speak the same language, but the soldier sang while Tezuka was playing the piano. Tezuka never stopped playing while the soldier was there, and felt like he made a friend despite the language barrier. Tezuka thanked the soldier by drawing him a portrait, in return, the solider gave Tezuka some American comics. (taken from "The Osamu Tezuka Story")

“But Tezuka drew black face!”

Yes, he did, but Jungle Emperor Leo (Kimba the white lion) was written in 1950. Its an incredibly old manga. Unfortunately, this is just how people at the time commonly drew black people. Tezuka looked up to Disney and Fleischer cartoons, which depicted black people commonly in this way in the 1940’s. It’s very sad, but that’s just how these companies were. They didn’t see anything wrong with it, and because Tezuka looked up to them, he didn’t see anything wrong with it either. He’s apologized in multiple interviews for this. I see a lot of people say “Tezuka was racist because he drew black face.” without bringing up that Tezuka didn’t do this all of the time and improved the way he drew black people after finding out it was offensive.

Nobody is perfect, everybody makes mistakes, and it's best when we can acknowledge our mistakes and learn from them.

Also the "pro colonization" themes of Jungle Emperor Leo is a lie. The message of Jungle Emperor Leo is "Humans need to leave nature alone." In the very first chapter of the series, a white man brutally murders Leo's father and turns him into a pelt all for the sake of game hunting. There are good humans depicted as wanting to save the wildlife of Africa, but also bad humans that just want to kill animals for fun. The "good" humans and "bad" humans are all of different races, the "good" humans beings are not all white and the "bad" humans beings are not all black like what you implied.

Another thing to note about Black Jack is that the chapter involving Kei was written in 1974. Transgender acceptance wasn't as common as it is now, as people feared being harassed or even harmed because of their identity. There was no internet back then, as such, Tezuka couldn't asks a transgender man what transitioning is like. Kei was never "forced" to transition. He chose to transition after finding out he wouldn't be able to get pregnant due to ovarian cancer. It's unrealistic, but like I said, Tezuka couldn't go find a transgender man and ask him about these things. Your ask implies that Tezuka was being malicious with his writing of Kei, but he's more uneducated. Kei is not a stereotype, he's not treated as a joke, he's treated as a normal human being. Kei is a doctor just like Black Jack, and he's shown as an incredibly gifted one as well.

Also 'hybrids bad racial mixing bad gender mixing bad' theme in Metropolis? Metropolis is about the dangers of fascism, the themes of class struggles, and relations between humans and robots. I know Mitchy is a genderfluid robot, but I don't recall that being the reason why they're seen as "bad". I remember anything about "race mixing" or "gender mixing" in Metropolis.

Wow I mean did everyone else in this (Tezuka) fandom just... Ignore the pro colonialism theme of Kimba... or Kei from Blackjack having an incredibly transphobic backstory....

I mean literally making transition out to be something done of shame or being forced...

(I haven't even touched on Two Shuchi's, another incredibly transphobic Blackjack chapter.)

Even as a Astro Boy fan I always am hesitant when I discover a new Tezuka work I didn't know about because it's either "This is gonna be really interesting and funny or incredibly awful."

If any of you guys see this ask just... Don't come after me and read some more Tezuka stuff it's really obvious. I don't really feel like hiding behind anon.

Appreciate the support. I'm just a weird robot who grew up with 2003 Astro Boy, read Metropolis as a teenager, and then got dragged through a group read of Atom: The Beginning, a few years later tripped over the Whaley hybrids paper while doing preliminary research on what to write my paper about, and went

'Wait, fuck. Wait. Fuck. WAIT. FUCK.'

Like, the realization that Metropolis has the same exact 'hybrids bad racial mixing bad gender mixing bad' themes hit me like a fucking bus.

[loominggaia]

How did Evangeline manage to enslave Elska's tribe? How does a bunch of humans overpower a village of centaurs?

That's a good question! I will first say that Kelvingyard slavers are not only human, there are other commoner species working for them as well. Ogres and even some trolls can overpower a centaur in a one-on-one fight. A roshava on horseback would give them a run for their money as well.

It's still possible for a battalion of humans to successfully raid a centaur village, but simply charging in with weapons swinging is not a smart way to do it.

Kelvingyard slavers often use underhanded tactics to capture large groups like Elska's tribe. If they feel like the reward is worth it, they're willing to play the long game. Sometimes their plans can take weeks, months, or even years to fully pan out, but their patience and persistence is what makes Kelvingyard particularly successful.

The story "To Fight the Fog" explores some of these nasty tactics. In this story, Elska notices armored humans skulking around her village and doesn't know what to make of it. They flee when they see her and she can't get any information from them. Little does she know, these are Kelvingyard scouts gathering information about her people.

Shortly after, the local nymphs start disappearing, as well as the surrounding wildlife. This is because the slavers knew Elska's tribe was too strong to tackle, so they decided to weaken them first. They did this by poaching local wildlife almost to the point of extinction, and also harassing the nymphs to scare them away, which hurt the centaurs' foraging yields.

The slavers camped nearby and continued damaging the local ecosystem for a period of years. They caused a famine which weakened Elska's people and even killed some of them. Once enough of the centaurs were demoralized and weak with hunger, the slavers finally moved in for their attack. They showed up on horseback in large numbers, armed with chains, tranquilizer darts, blades, and clubs.

Many centaurs died in the raid, but enough were captured that the operation was still deemed profitable. You can bet that Elska's tribe was not the only one they hit during this time either. In "Unbreakable", we see another shaghoof centaur in Kelvingyard's slave pen. Shaghoofs all hail from the same region, so while this guy wasn't part of Elska's tribe, he couldn't have lived far from her. The slavers likely plucked him off the same mountain around the same time they raided Elska's people.

Roughly a decade before that, they pulled the same move on Olof's tribe, which wasn't too far from Elska's either.

Going back to "To Fight the Fog" for a moment, the story mentions that some of Elska's people started to go missing around the time she saw the scouts. They didn't starve, their bodies were never recovered, they just...vanished. This is another tactic Kelvingyard uses when dealing with species more powerful than themselves: they stalk victims until they're isolated, and then they ambush them and snatch them away.

If you're a fae or gaian living near Evangelite territory, just stepping into the woods to take a piss could be the biggest mistake of your life. Slavers could be hiding anywhere, and by the time you notice them there's already a tranquilizer dart in your neck.

There are many ways Kelvingyard overpowers these tribes, but these are the most common tactics.

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

[windsfavored]

he  breathes  a  sigh  of  relief  —  good,  good.  at  least  one  of  them  knows  what  they're  actually  doing.  ren  doesn't  think  himself  entirely  incompetent  when  it  comes  to  animal  care;  he's  spent  enough  time  harassed  by  the  local  wildlife  to  understand  very  basic  things  such  as  their  favorite  meals...  yet  this  cat  (  kitten  )  is  just  so  small  —  and  fragile  looking.  the  wanderer,  in  all  of  his  paranoia,  can't  help  but  worry  it's  liable  to  crumple  apart  in  his  arms.  ❝  something  like  that. ❞  ren  says  aloud.  he  carefully  scratches  the  top  of  the  feline's  head  with  a  finger,  and  it  sits  up  —  revealing  charcoal  fluff  going  in  every  possible  direction  (  almost  as  if  it  had  been  struck  by  LIGHTNING  )  and  a  set  of  large,  golden  eyes.  it  blinks,  somehow  managing  to  convey  a  sense  of  bleary  CONFUSION  without  a  word,  before  settling  back  down  in  the  wanderer's  arms  with  a  faint  mrrp.  sleepy.

❝  i'm  no  stranger  to  dealing  with  the  local  strays ...  for  whatever  reason,  they  won't  stop  BOTHERING  me. ❞  tellingly,  the  words  carry  no  undertone  of  exasperation  —  suggesting  he  isn't  actually  as  bothered  as  he  claims  to  be.  ❝  recently,  i've  noticed  this  one  joining  that  group ...  but  it  seems  a  little  too  small  to  be  wandering  around  all  by  its  lonesome,  and  i'm  beginning  to  suspect  that  it's  been  ABANDONED. ❞

abandoned  by  its  mother,  no  less.  perhaps  it's  ridiculous  to  find  a  kindred  spirit  in  a  stray  cat  of  all  things,  but  he  won't  try  to  pretend  that  he  doesn't  RELATE.

❝  anyway,  no  one  else  was  interested  in  taking  responsibility,  so  apparently  that  means  the  duty  falls  to  ME. ❞  he  just ...  isn't  exactly  sure  where  to  start.

In most cases Sora would hear or smell someone coming long before she actually saw them. Abilities that can make it hard to sneak up on her, but that also allow her to pinpoint her friends incredibly fast. Ren is no exception to this rule, and Sora had hurried over to meet him the moment she caught his scent on the breeze.

"Hey, Ren!" She greeted him cheerfully, her gaze softening a tad when she spotted the kitten tucked under his arm. "Thought I smelled a cat around here." She mused. A bit of a surprise to see Ren holding it, though.

"Oh? Yeah, I'd say I know a fair bit. Even helped raise a few! I'm guessing you need some help with that one, then?" She said, nodding at the little bundle of fluff. There wasn't much she could make out when it was curled up like that but it seemed healthy enough at a glance.

Curious now, Sora took a step closer to get a better look at it. "... how'd you end up with a kitten, anyways?"

[areusittingcomfortably]

What you see:

Adorable cat and dog buddies in a beautiful natural setting, a symbol of peace and harmony.

What conservationists and park rangers see:

Two dangerous predators that don't belong in a national / state park / scenic reserve*. Potentially deadly or dangerous interactions with wildlife. An owner that ignored the 'no pets' regulation signs and messaging on the website and brochures.

Loads of people thinking "Oh that's so cute, let's take our beloved Cujo and Mittens down to the lake and get a photo of them like that too!". The need to issue fines or infringement notices. Potentially being sworn at or threatened by the owner(s). Incident reports. Follow up.

Angry letters in the local paper from dog owners arguing that they're being locked out of public land and their dog wouldn't hurt a fly. And what about the bears / dingoes / wolves / leopards / mountain lions, etc. that kill domestic dogs and livestock? What are the parks staff doing about that?

Angry letters in the local paper from environmental groups complaining that park staff aren't doing enough to keep domestic and feral dogs and cats out of parks, possibly accompanied by bloody photos of native animals after being attacked by cats and dogs.

Angry letters in the local paper from animal rights activists calling park staff and environmental groups murderers for trapping or shooting non-native predators to protect native wildlife.

Conservative politicians weighing in on tree-hugging greenie snowflakes sipping lattes in capital cities deciding what every day people can do on public land and making wild claims about progressive politicians' plans to lock everybody out of parks forever. Your freedoms are under threat! It's time to bring cattle and horses back in to graze in parks! If we don't, your house will burn down in the next wildfire! It's not climate change, that's just more made-up greenie bullshit to keep themselves in jobs, it's the lack of grazing!

Court cases challenging environmental protections. Environmental legislation and park budgets and staffing being slashed.

Park staff or supporters' home addresses being made public, their families being harassed and threatened. Rangers having to change out of uniforms before going home, having to drive to another town to do grocery shopping without being recognised and abused.

And all because of a cute photo.

*I don't know where this photo was taken and whether it was in a park or reserve. This might be private land and the photographer might have broken no rules. However, when photos like this go viral, the consequences can be serious.

No pillow? No problem

(via)